#i saw an edit the other day of them and I had to reflect on everything wrong with the world for a moment

[grandprixwinnerlandonorris]

Friends Don't | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: you go out to celebrate George's home race win, not even imagining what the night will bring

Warnings: smut, drunk driving, unprotected sex

A/N: you will maybe have to necessarily read part 1 and part 2 hehe. For the sake of the plot, we'll pretend some things already happened. I've spent the whole week writing this and only got it to all click together from the third attempt. Third time's a charm, right? But at least had a blast while editing, which is a rarity. I actually enjoy writing these 'chapters' and building this world sm <3

Sundays were a day for rest and relaxation. A day for sitting down with a good book and a cup of coffee. A day for cuddling up with a loved one and watching a movie. A day for taking some time for yourself; a day to reflect and recharge.

That was, of course, unless your best friend was George Russell. And that your Sundays didn't consist of spending most weekends a year at different race tracks around the world. Not all of them, but you tried to be there for him at least once or twice a month, as much as the opportunity allowed.

That afternoon, George took the checkered flag in Silverstone in P1 and now you were in your room, preparing for tonight's celebration. The victory party was going to be wild, and you knew it. You had seen how George celebrated previous wins, and tonight was going to be no different. Especially because it was his home race.

You took a deep breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. You had dressed to impress, wearing a sparkly blue dress that fit you perfectly. Finishing your look with a pair of strappy heels and a silver necklace, you couldn't help but think about how previous events with George brought you even closer together.

Your friendship kind of became more... intimate. No pun intended. Guess you were both afraid not to lose each other over the past experiences, and that deepened your bond whether either of you wanted to admit or not. Now your only fear was that your closeness wouldn't tear you apart.

A soft knock pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see George standing at the door with a sheepish grin on his face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his hair tousled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and husky. "Ready to party?"

Never before have you paid any mind to the nicknames he called you, but now a thrill ran down your spine. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only person in the world.

"I am," you said, smiling at him.

As you stepped out of the door, George took your hand in his and led you to the car waiting outside. The drive to the club was short, but the anticipation was high. The party was in full swing when you arrived; loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

George led you to the VIP section where his friends and family were already celebrating. You saw his siblings and a few of his close racing buddies. You could hear their loud cheering as they saw George walk in with you and feel the envious glares of the other women in the room.

George handed you a glass of champagne and raised his own in a toast. "To the best damn team in the world," he said, looking at you and his friends.

Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together. You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, feeling it go down smoothly. The night was young, and the energy in the room was electric.

The party kept going on as the night deepened, and the noise of the songs blasted through the room. Glasses were filled up with drinks constantly, making it more of an effort to ignore the effects of the booze. You found yourself on the dance floor, surrounded by George and his friends. The bass of the music throbbed in your chest, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm.

Throughout the night, each person had a chance to take their turn with you on the dance floor, and eventually you were spinning around in George's arms. The heat of the club mixed with the buzz of the alcohol made your skin flush against his. You could feel his muscles flexing as he twirled you around, his hand firmly holding onto yours. The closer you danced, the more the tension between you grew.

For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was watching. You moved on him like it was just the two of you in the world, your hands moving over his body like never before, and hips swaying in perfect synchronicity. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. You felt yourself getting lost in him, and something stirred inside you.

And it seemed like George caught up on your odd behavior as the song faded away. He grabbed your arm and started leading you away from the dance floor until you reached a quiet corner. But your drunken mind wasn't understanding his intentions.

You threw yourself onto him and he had to secure your hips with his hands to stop you from slipping. You let out a hazy chuckle as you started grinding against him once more before he pushed you back against the wall.

"Stop it, that's not why I brought you here."

But you didn't listen. You pulled yourself even closer, letting your lips brush against his neck. "Then why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, your breath tickling his skin. "The drinks have gone to your head. I brought you here to take a break and cool off a little." he avoided telling you that you were drunk and not acting like yourself, afraid to provoke any unnecessary argument between you two.

Still, you weren't paying any attention. You were too inebriated to realize that your behavior was a little out of character, and you certainly weren't considering the consequences of your actions. You clasped your hands around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him again.

George tried to keep a respectable distance between you, pushing his hip backwards as you pushed yours forward, fighting the urge to get too close. That got you into an interesting position; you were leaning against the wall in between his arms with your shoulders as he leaned into you with his upper body. Your hand naughtily ran down his side, poking him. You knew you probably shouldn't touch him, but you couldn't stop yourself. His muscles strained as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're getting awfully close to me," he murmured, unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. His fingers slowly slid from their grip on the wall.

"Then don't push me away," you said back.

His face was just inches away now, and your lips unconsciously moved closer. The atmosphere between you two was thick with anticipation, a feeling that you currently relished in. Your lips were only a breath away from his when he spoke.

"We can't." his eyes locked with yours.

"Why?" you asked breathily.

"Because we're best friends." his voice was barely a whisper.

He hoped the reason he gave you would remind you of everything you asked from him that first time. But he didn't tell you that he feared you'd regret it when you sobered up, and that it would be his fault for not stopping it.

"And?" in the state that you were, did he really think that would stop you? He couldn't have been more wrong. You wanted to push him to feel something. Anything. "Best friends can do a lot of things." you smirked.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still on yours. "No, they can't." he gritted, shaking his head.

"You're right." you said, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "They can't do this." and your hips finally met his.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay level headed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in desperation, his hands pressed flat on the wall behind you, trying their best not to touch you as they dangerously started slipping down.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palms as you glided them down his torso. "Remember how you said you can read my body language?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding his head.

"What is it telling you now?" you whispered against his lips.

"It's telling me we're going to be in big trouble if you don't stop this," he replied. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"Then don't fight it. Show me." you murmured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. Your arms snaked around his neck and fingers twined through the hair at its nape, pulling him closer. You couldn't believe that you had done all those other things, but never kissed. And when ultimately his mouth closed on yours, it was like finally locating the elusive jigsaw piece on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday while tidying up your home that you thought had been lost forever. It made you almost not want to kiss anyone else ever again — almost, because deep down you knew you shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his head tilted to get a better angle. The kiss was soft, tentative, like both of you were very aware of what might happen. You pressed your mouth against his more firmly, tasting him. Parting your lips slightly, you felt the silky wetness of his tongue on yours. You bit his lower lip, letting out a deep moan when he groaned in response, hands that were in his hair tugging on the strands slightly. He groaned into your mouth again, pulling you even closer against him. You had no idea how long you were kissing, but it was definitely not enough.

The kiss broke, and you leaned your face against his neck, panting heavily. He glanced down at you, his lips so close to yours that if you had merely lifted your head, they'd be touching again. The warmth emanating from your body made him want to do things he knew he shouldn’t. He placed his forehead against yours, trying desperately to get control of himself.

"We should get back." he said between breaths. Your head was spinning from the alcohol and his scent and the magical kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were no longer kissing him. You opened your eyes and met with him.

"We should, before they realize we're missing." you nodded. He frowned, but his eyes were smiling. He was relieved, but he was also worried for you and what tomorrow might bring when you sobered up.

"Lets go," he said, turning around, but kept an arm around your waist so as to not let you get lost. You looped one arm around his neck, holding onto his shoulder, and gently hit his other shoulder with your head.

The night was still young and the party was still going. Music was playing, people were dancing, and laughter filled the room. Your friends cheered when they saw you two come in together, but neither of you paid any attention to them; all that mattered was that you were here, with him. Guys grabbed drinks for the both of you from different parts of the room and put it in your hands.

You found a spot on the couch and George sat next to you, his arm around your waist protectively. The conversations flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you both forgot what had happened earlier as you joined the rest of the group in drinking, singing along with music and laughing.

He later found you on the dance floor swaying around completely out of rhythm with a drink in your hand. Your face lit up when you saw him.

"There you are, my champion." you leaned into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"I won the race, not the championship.” he chuckled.

“Mm, don’t care. To me you are the champion.” you slurred, pouting.

“Hey, is everything alright?" he asked, supporting you.

"Mmhmm." you mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." you could hear the frown on his face. "You're drunk." he spat as he attempted to take away the half empty glass from your grasp.

"I'm not." you said, feeling yourself lose your balance a little as you swayed back and forth. He put his arm around you to help you balance.

"Yes, you are. I should've taken you home the first time around." he sighed, somehow not surprised you managed to get even drunker. You were both intoxicated for that matter, it's just that George knew how to hold his liquor. And he looked to never go over his limit in case something like this happened.

"No." you tried to pull away from him.

"I'm taking you home." he tightened his grip around you, leading you out of the party. You mumbled something in response, not quite sure what you were saying.

He helped you into his car and buckled your seat belt for you, before getting in himself. He drove slowly, carefully navigating the roads while you were almost passed out in his passenger seat. Every now and then he'd take a hand off the wheel to reach over and brush your hair away from your face or wipe away a stray tear from your cheek if one escaped your eye. As he turned into your street and parked the car, your eyes fluttered open.

"Um, could you walk me to the door?" you asked.

"I was planning on it," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Both of your arms wrapped around his left one, holding on for support, as he walked you to your apartment. Your little nap helped clear the haze from your head, but you were still tipsy. When you reached the entrance of your flat, you propped yourself against the door and blinked up at him.

"Do you want to come inside?" inviting your best friend into your home have never before seemed more dangerous and George should've known better than to say yes.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you asked to break an awkward silence that fell among you the moment he shut the door.

Before even waiting for his answer, you made your way towards the kitchen, but he extended his arm and grabbed your waist, preventing you from moving further.

"I think we both had enough to drink tonight," he said.

"Then what do you want to do?" you whispered.

"I want to claim my prize." he must have had a few more drinks than usual at the club to summon up the courage for that sentiment.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the alcohol still fogging your mind but not enough to miss the implication of his words. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. His hand still rested on your waist, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress.

"Is that what I am, a prize?"

"No, no." he said quickly, his eyes softening. "You're so much more than that, you know that." his hand cupped the side of your face. "When I saw you looking up at me on the podium today, I realized I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one who had been cheering me on from the sidelines all this time. You've been there for me when no one else was." he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You've been my lucky charm all these years and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

The way he was looking at you made your chest heave with a mixture of emotions. You were both under the influence, and you knew this was not the best time to make decisions, but you couldn't resist him. You leaned in and attached your lips together again, only this time with more passion, more desire. You could feel his hands running through your hair as he kissed you back, his tongue playing with yours, his body pressing against yours.

He pulled away, looking at you with a hunger you had never seen before. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to say anything. His lips crashed onto yours, hungrily claiming your mouth as his own. Your body responded to his touch, your hands roaming over his chest and tangling in his hair. He lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Climbing on top of you, his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. You moaned softly, your hands gripping tightly onto his muscular back. He pulled his lips away from you, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

You nodded, reaching up and pulling him back down. He gently kissed you again and you responded in kind, but he pulled away again.

"I'll stop if you tell me to." he whispered. "I don't want to do this unless you want to." 

"I want to." you murmured. The alcohol may have distorted your judgment, but it surely helped your courage.

"Are you sure?" he asked a third time. You laughed softly, trying to push him off. He had you pinned to the mattress, still pressing you down.

"Yes, I'm sure." you said, no longer laughing.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you hard, his fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of your dress. He ran his hands underneath, gently resting them on your ribs, and pulled your dress upwards. You lifted your hands above your head, freeing him of the task of removing your dress as you squiggled out of it and freed yourself from the restriction that was your dress.

He kissed you again, letting his hands run over your bare skin. His lips kissed down your throat and chest, his hands undoing your bra. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, taking in the sight of you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. You blushed, and he smiled. His lips traveled down your leg, gently caressing the outside of your thigh. "But I'm a little jealous, you know?" his lips traveled back up, his tongue tracing over the slope of your breast and hands kneading them softly. "You got to taste me, and I..."

He kissed his way down your body, his hands going over every inch of exposed skin, reminding you how skillfully he handled you that very first time. He reached your inner thigh and slid his hand underneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers brush against you before a long finger slid inside you. You moaned loudly, spreading your legs apart for him. He smiled against your neck, his teeth taking in your skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind.

His finger slowly moved inside you, circling you before sliding in and out. His hand pulled your underwear down, you kicking them off to the side. His mouth moved down your figure, hovering over your breasts. He teased you for a moment, blowing against your nipples before drawing the tip of his tongue over one. He did the same with the other, his fingers never ceasing to move. His kisses continued further down, over your stomach until they reached your mound.

"Can I?" he asked, peeking at you.

"Please..." you tried to hide the shake in your voice.

His tongue slid between your lips, gently licking you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. He teased you, his tongue circling your clit before sliding inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart. You spread your legs even wider, your body arching up to him. He leaned in, gently sucking on your clit and you moaned loudly, his tongue moving faster. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against his face.

You were nearing your end, your moans growing louder with every movement of his tongue. You could feel his lips smile against your skin, enjoying the sounds you were making. You cried out, your body tensing as you came, shaking against him. He pulled away, slowly kissing his way up to the top again. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, not hurrying you up as you sucked in his bottom lip, squeezing out your own juices.

"Taking that trophy is the second best thing that has ever happened to me." he whispered. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "The first, of course, being you. You're my greatest reward." he continued as you trailed kisses down his neck, removing the shirt off his shoulders.

"Stop talking, George."

"Sorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes, surrendering above you.

You kissed his chest, your nails raking up and down his sides, feeling his muscles tense. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and could sense the urgency in his touch. His hardness pressed against you, begging to be liberated. You pulled away from him, reaching for his belt buckle and his eyes shot open, hands reaching for yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again. He knew if you go any further there would be no going back and some irreversible things would be done.

"Are you sure?" you asked back, smiling mischievously. "I thought this is what you wanted." your nail dangerously circled around his lower abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with every word he spoke.

"I-I do. I'm just making sure you're not doing it just because I want it." you could tell he was really struggling to hold himself back.

"I think we've already established that..." you whispered against his lips and prompted your body more to his.

"Okay," his hand moved away from yours, and you undid his belt.

His pants fell around his feet and he kicked them off. His boxers were the last thing left, and you reached for them, slowly pulling them down. His hand held the back of your head as he kissed you, his tongue twirling around yours. You moved to pull away but he held on tighter.

His boxers hit the floor and you looked up at him, his hands resting on your frame. Gently taking your hand, he placed it on his dick. You gasped, feeling it grow even more underneath your touch. He pulled away, his lips planting kisses down your neck as his hand guided yours up and down his length. You felt him shiver as you grazed the tip with your nails, his breath hitching. He removed his hand, and your eyes shot open when you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

He teased you, running it up and down your slit. You threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching against him. The more he prolonged what you needed the most, the more your neediness grew. You tried to guide him inside you but he resisted, placing a finger on your lips instead. He dragged it over them before he made you suck on it, his eyes never leaving your face as he blew a stream of air out. Your eyes widened when you felt his head brush against you again, making you gasp audibly, his name falling from your lips.

"Please," you remembered what he told you the first time he had you in his arms like this. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." you chanted over and over again.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Hearing you beg for him made his head spin again. It was like you'd put him under a spell every time you'd utter that word and he'd not be able to deny you anything. Not that he ever wanted.

He slowly pushed inside of you, stopping at every inch to wait for you to adjust. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he began to move again. He kissed you, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you more. He was so gentle, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. This was not the normal rough, lustful sex. This was the man who loved the sight of you, the sounds of your pleasure. This was the man who wanted to make love to you, to show you what true pleasure was.

Your fingers sank into his back again, and he responded by thrusting into you harder, your moans getting louder. His lips traveled down your chest, his tongue flicking a nipple as he pushed into you again.

"Oh, god." you moaned, George's name falling from your mouth repeatedly. Your hands dug into the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"You feel so good... so damn good," he kissed your skin. "Making me feel like I don't ever want to take anybody else again."

"Don't stop, please, whatever it is that you're doing, please, just don't stop." you cried, twining your legs around him to press him deeper.

He moaned in pleasure when you did, his hands tightening their grip around you. His breathing grew heavier and faster, your bodies reacting to each other. He was so close, and he could feel you held right on the edge.

You cried out his name, your form shuddering under him. He had no intention of stopping, and he continued his movements as you kept shaking, your voice loud enough to wake up the whole apartment complex.

"You, George, only you…" you whispered into his ear as you were coming down.

You felt his whole build shake, his cock pulsing inside of you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to hear him as he climaxed. You wanted to hear the sounds he made, the sweetest song in the world.

"George… George…" you panted, your breathing coming out in jagged breaths.

He cursed, as his body trembled with pleasure. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he came. You buried your face in his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. He kissed you, holding you close to him. He wanted to stay inside you forever, to feel the sight of your face as he pleased you. You did that to him. You were the one making him see another reality where only he and you existed.

But he pulled away, your eyes searching for his as you slowly came back to reality. He kissed you again, his lips landing on yours.

"That was amazing… you were amazing…" he whispered, stroking your face gently.

"So were you." you said back, playing with the bangs that fell over his forehead.

He rested his head on your chest, finding a comfortable spot, your hands moving into his hair.

"Are you going to stay?" you whispered, uncertain.

"Only if you want me to."

"Always."

He hugged you tightly and rolled over so that you were now on top of him. His fingers softly ran along your back as your body let go and fully relaxed. The peaceful sound of your heartbeats and his breath seemed to take over the room. You drew near to him, feeling the up and down movements of his chest gently rock you to sleep, matters of your friendship left for tomorrow's morning news.

Next part

[unboundprompts]

Different Ways to Describe Blue Eyes

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She had eyes like the sky on a warm, sunny day.

His eyes were of the darkest blue, like the ocean that threatened to drown sailors on a stormy night.

Their eyes glowed with anger, resembling the blue flames of an unforgiving fire.

His eyes were like ice: cold and relentless.

She had bright blue eyes that seized all the sadness in his heart when she looked at him.

His eyes were fire in the water.

Their eyes were the exact same shade of blue as the bucket he used to take with him down to the pond as a kid.

Her eyes reminded him of watercolors, blues and greens and purple mixing together like paint on a canvas.

He had eyes like sapphires: big beautiful gems that watched her every move.

She had never seen eyes like theirs— the lightest blue color that they were nearly silver— and she couldn’t help but to stare.

Their eyes were like deep blue pools, and he felt that he would get lost in them if given the chance.

His eyes were the same as the blue-green mountain lakes, reflecting the hue of evergreen trees and the sparkling sun.

With just a glance at her blue eyes, he could see a lifetime a struggle that she had never spoken aloud before.

In their blue eyes, she saw rings of gold like a new sun.

He had eyes like the midwinter sky.

Her blue eyes fixed him in the best ways.

They had never realized that blue eyes could look like such hot fire until now.

His eyes were the blue of the dark sky, lit with dancing northern lights and bright stars.

Her blue eyes had the sweetest traces of caramel.

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[murdockbarnes]

you'll have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

pairing: eloise bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: eloise bridgerton has successfully chased away a flurry of lady's maids. has she finally met her match?

wordcount: almost 3k

warnings: fluff, angst, no happy ending. 18+ minors do not interact. nothing explicit, but still.

A/N: eloise is aged up in this, around 24. partly inspired by this gorgeous artwork and good luck babe by chappell roan.

i try not use y/n in my fics but i started writing this over two years ago and a good chunk of it was already written using y/n, so i am just too lazy to change it now. sorry it that bothers anyone! any feedback would be greatly appreciated. have a great day!

*not edited, all mistakes are mine*

viscount bridgerton was worried. a slew of lady's maids and none were strong willed enough to deal with his storm of a younger sister, eloise. of course, he loved her passion dearly, just not so much when it felt like he had to look for a new lady's maid every other week. the last lady's maid lasted two days. anthony just hoped the new one would last a little longer.

eloise was proud of herself - she had just broken her personal record: two days. in the years since she had made her debut, she had driven away at least 20 lady's maids each year. it wasn't that she enjoyed tormenting them, it was just that she hated society's expectations of her and her sex. she hated the lady's maids on principal, it was nothing personal, even though they did make her life easier. she had thought that anthony would finally give up, so imagine her surprise when she went down to the drawing room only to find her mother sitting with whom she guessed was to be her new lady's maid.

"you must be joking" eloise scoffed.

"eloise-" violet began.

"quite the contrary, ma'am," you began as eloise's eyes once again slid over to yours. "i am to be your new lady's maid. my name is y/n y/l/n."

"don't bother getting too comfortable, miss y/l/n" eloise flashed you a sugary sweet smile before turning on her heel and departing.

the next few weeks saw you exhausted, as eloise did everything in her power to vex you enough to make you quit. but you were determined. each night, after whatever ordeal she had put you through for the day, whether it be going shopping and swiftly disappearing into the crowd, sending you up and down multiple flights of stairs to look for something she had with her all along, or whatever torture she thought of that day, you would smile brightly at her before departing for the night.

that night, right before you closed the doors to her room, you saw her crack, saw her frown. eloise was understandably confused. you should have given up by now, you should have broken and quit. yet, here you were two months into this arrangement. the longest yet. to be really quite honest, eloise was running out of ideas to scare you off.

another ball passed with more judgement from the mamas of the ton. eloise could feel their eyes burning into her back like the power of a thousand suns. she was just exhausted of this constant routine and wished she could escape. and she wanted this blasted dress off her.

you started unlacing the back of the dress, your fingers accidentally brushing her soft skin, goosebumps appearing in their wake. as you brush her hair and see eloise's reflection in the mirror, a prominent frown between her brows, you realise this ball must have taken more of a toll on her for her to be so docile with you. you blow out all candles save one, and even when you exit, eloise is deep in thought in front of the mirror.

hyacinth was debuting this season, and violet swears the effort to find both hyacinth and eloise husbands is taking years off her life. she loves how fierce and passionate her daughters are, but she wished it was easier to find them husbands, as at the end of the day she wants to see them happy with their own little family.

eloise is forced out to promenade with hyacinth, and as always, her lady's maid is to be her shadow. eloise is perturbed to see her so unbothered by her antics. when she crosses the street boldly in front of an oncoming carriage, so does she. when she takes a detour and leaves hyacinth and her own lady's maid behind, she follows. as she looks over her shoulder to see her walking a few paces behind, her foot hits the stump of a tree and she goes tumbling down.

the pain radiates up eloise's leg, and she feels hands on her in seconds. the next moments are a blur and eloise does not remember how she finds herself in her bed, a physician standing at the end of her bed claiming a broken foot, and her mother and youngest sister fretting over her.

"i'm afraid the foot is broken, lady bridgerton," the physician finishes his examination and wraps her foot in a bandage.

"how long will it take to heal, doctor?" violet asks worriedly.

"two to three months, my lady. possibly even more, depending on the severity."

"she'll miss the entirety of the season! maybe even more. can nothing be done?" violet queries. eloise, on the other hand, feels as though her wish of an escape has actually been granted.

"i'm afraid not, she must try to keep her weight off of it as much as she can. there is not much else that can be done, it will take time. maybe the countryside and fresh air will help, away from the busyness of the ton and the social season."

violet does not miss the way her daughter's face lights up. eloise, sensing her mother is about to refuse, speaks up.

"please, mama, i promise i'll be good. i'd be bored to death here anyway. at least at aubrey hall i'd get to enjoy the library." eloise can see the hesitation on violet's face, but she can see the moment she relents.

"alright, but your y/n is going with you."

eloise's smile drops but she knows arguing will just result in her stuck in london. so she agrees ruefully.

it's just you and eloise in the carriage on the way to aubrey hall, the rest of the bridgertons busy with the social season. you help eloise to her room, making sure she is comfortable before leaving to go make arrangements for dinner.

the short walk up the stairs to eloise's room that she insisted on staying in took a lot more out of her than she expected. her foot really was in a bad condition, that was true, but not bad enough that she would need to supervised at night too, she thought.

she's just settled into bed with a book after you helped her get ready for bed after dinner, when you walk into the room again, this time in a nightgown of your own, and a thin rolled up mattress, pillow, and sheets in hand.

"i'll be fine for the night, you can go," eloise says, briefly looking up from her book, slightly irritated.

"i'm sorry, miss bridgerton," you begin, already setting up your sleeping area for the night. "but i'm under strict instructions from the dowager viscountess and the viscount. i am to constantly be by your side, should you need anything, and that means sleeping in the same room as you."

you see as the irritation begins to bleed into her face, brows closer together, a slight frown on her lips.

"can't you just tell them you did and not actually sleep here? i'd quite like some privacy."

"my apologies, miss bridgerton, but i can't. i take my job and my duties to you and your family very seriously. i wouldn't do anything to jeopardise the trust your mother and brother have placed in me."

"i do not care about any of that! i just want a moment's peace from you!" eloise bursts out, red splotches high on her face. she makes a move to get out of bed but the pain in her leg flares up. within seconds, you are by her side, warm, gentle hands carefully positioning her foot back on the pillow.

"i'm afraid i have to disappoint you, miss. but i'm here to stay."

days in the countryside slipped into a routine. you would wake up first, prepare breakfast for eloise, along with a book. you'd get her ready for the day, and then station her by the large windows, refuse her when she wanted to walk around, and help her should she rebel anyways.

you confused eloise. why had you still not budged? and despite your stubborn moments, why did you always otherwise treat her with gentleness? here, in the countryside with less people around, she had seen you smile more. your hair was in a slightly looser updo, and your usual uniform not as strict. more than a few times, eloise found herself looking much too closely at you.

last night for instance, when you came back with your bedding after getting eloise ready for bed, in a thin, worn shift that hung loosely off your frame. the fire illuminated your silhouette through the thin shift as you stood facing it, getting ready for bed. eloise found her concentration completely off her book, a funny feeling in her chest. she could feel her cheeks heating up and her heart beating faster. she had never felt like this before, this flustered. she only prayed the candlelight was dim enough for you to be unable to make out the blush she was sure was on her face.

it confused her even further. being the analytical person she was, she read into every look, every touch. did she leave you as flustered as you did her? did you also feel this shortness of breath, this disappearing heartbeat?

she feels your fingers gently run through her scalp. everything feels different since that night. she can't help but try to look for clues, discern your expressions, your emotions, feelings. did you also feel this foreign feeling? she had bathed with the help of many a ladies' maids, but why does it suddenly feel so intimate? as though baring her unclothed body to you was akin to baring her heart out flat? the thought terrified and thrilled her at the same time, that you might truly see her, understand her and her feelings better than anyone.

the lukewarm water trickles down eloise's back as you gently move her hair and run the washcloth over her shoulders. you're kneeling by the bathtub, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with eloise even though you feel her eyes on you. you switch to focus on washing her legs next, taking precaution to be extra gentle with her healing foot. your mind has just drifted to the thought about how intimate giving a simple bath to your employer can be if you harbour specific feelings for them, when eloise's hand, warm from the bath, wraps around your wrist. you finally make eye contact, and the desperation and emotions you find in her eyes knocks the breath out of you.

warm, wet hands cup your face gently, and you feel drawn to wherever they are pulling you to. you wait with bated breath, afraid that she'll stop, afraid that you would stop feeling her breath on your face, noses a hair's width apart. instinctively, your eyes close, and then you feel the softest pair of lips you've ever felt on yours. the perfume from her bathwater clouds your senses as her lips run over yours a little clumsily, but the hunger in the kiss makes up for it. you have never felt this kind of unadulterated desire in any other kiss before.

you kiss back with the same amount of hunger, tongue running over the seam of her lips, silently asking her to grant you permission, and she does. your fingers sink into damp hair, the feel of which you know all too well, as hers map the curves of your face and neck, and dare to go lower. a finger runs against your collarbone, taking advantage of the first few buttons undone and splaying against your sternum. you let her pull you into the bath with her, uncaring of your dress getting wet. when she further unbuttons your dress, you don't protest, letting her hands explore.

when you pull away after what feels like hours, there is a soft smile on her face, unlike her usual smirk, blush high on her cheeks and lips swollen, hair damp and skin glowing under the lamplight. you have seen her in many situations but you think she has never looked more divine.

things change between you after that. stolen kisses and casual touches behind closed doors, not a moment out of eloise's bed at night, going to sleep with the feel of her lips on yours, her taste still in your mouth. eloise grows more confident with her touches, no longer hesitant to mess up your appearance during your stolen moments, her hands slipping beneath the hem of your shift. as her foot heals little by little, she shows you further into the estate, taking any chance she can to leave your lips swollen and your cheeks hot. everything is so picture perfect that you are afraid of the bubble bursting when you do have to inevitably return back to ton.

and, inevitably as predicted, it does. the season ends with eloise's foot still on the mend, but her family's return to the countryside, while she finds that a joyous prospect, means distance between you both. still, it's not bad, you two still get to spend most of your time together, and you both master the art of stolen moments. it is not until the next season rolls around that the bubble is well and truly shattered.

a suitor starts pursuing eloise earnestly, and eloise doesn't seem entirely opposed to the idea. you know she was still trying to get over penelope's marriage to her brother, and the end to their future plans of spinsterhood. the spiral it sent her on had caused a rift between the both of you, but there was nothing you could do to bridge the distance, no matter how hard you tried; eloise had retired to her thoughts ever since.

eloise spent less time with you, and you found yourself spending more time with her footman, john, in an effort to distract yourself when thoughts of eloise consumed you entirely. john was a good man, he made you laugh and forget your problems with eloise, if only for a moment.

eloise walks into the drawing room and finds her mother and you, so reminiscent of that first day. instead of irritation or apprehension this time, her chest fills with knots. she hasn't spoken to you properly or spent time with you in weeks. she was too preoccupied in her own thoughts and refused to let you in. you won't meet her eyes now and the heavy feeling keeps growing heavier. you feel worlds apart. she never meant for the distance to happen.

"oh, eloise dear, come here," violet exclaims. "oh this is most wonderful news. y/n is getting married!"

"i- what?" shock colours eloise's voice. "to whom?"

"to footman john. now don't be impolite, eloise, isn't it just marvelous news?"

"yes, marvelous indeed." she chokes on the words, the fear of losing you coming to life. she was so scared, preoccupied with wallowing in her spinsterhood without pen, that she pushed you away. she feels her throat start to close up. "excuse me, mama, i just remembered i have to do something."

you watch with worried eyes as eloise departs, and follow after her, seeing if she needs anything. after all, that is what your job is, and it was stupid of you to think you that your relationship with her, whatever it may have been, could ever amount to anything more.

when you walk into her room, you see eloise pacing around, clutching her chest, tears streaming down her face.

"i do not want to see you right now." hurt colours her tone.

"eloise, i-"

"you do not get to call me that! you do not get to shatter my heart and then call me that."

"what do you want me to do, eloise? you cannot expect me to sit around waiting for you while you search for a suitor for yourself." you burst out, tears of your own now making a path down your cheeks. "you can't expect me to chaperone your promenades with suitors, bear that hurt. you cannot expect that of me. not when you don't want to give us a chance, not when you don't want to give us a future."

"i- that is not true."

"if that is not true, then tell me what i am to you. tell me that you are not considering marriage with any of your suitors. how long will you keep denying yourself love, deny what you and i are? marrying any of these men will not solve anything, even though i know you think it will. i love you, eloise, i gave my entire heart to you. can you say it back?" you have moved closer to her, eyes pleading with her to respond.

but she doesn't, turns away from you. "i can't, you know i can't."

you never thought words could hurt this much. the sting of tears is still fresh when you see eloise for the last time. "then this is goodbye, eloise. i hope you manage to find happiness."

when sir phillip kisses her at the altar, her mind drifts to her last kiss, a few years ago now. the ghost of soft lips on hers, feathering light kisses across her cheekbones and eyes, of lips curving into a gentle smile against hers. she feels the wrongness of this one, the stubble rubbing against her chin, slightly rough lips. but she'll drown herself on it nonetheless, choke on it until it erases her memories from her mind, takes with it that fateful final day. she can't turn back time, so she'll settle for this, the ghost of a soft kiss and gentle arms around her.

[zerosuitsammie]

If I can take a moment to share my experience as a trans woman on the internet

My experience is by no means unique, it's just one experience in the plethora of trans feminine experiences and not unique to only tumblr. Though, I'll mostly talk about what I've experienced here. In the light of recent events, the reaction of "the ceo," and the comments he contributed regarding dog pile harassment; I simply wish to share my experiences that I have had to juxtapose the dynamic of his statements against a lived experience.

This account started as a way to document my social transition and eventually my journey with HRT. Tumblr had always had a large lgbtqia+ community. The queer people here inspired me and gave me hope. What I didn't know, but soon learned, is that there were people here who hated me for being trans. Being early in my transition I was a prime target. TERF groups would plan raids on my account. What this entailed was: rebloging my selfies into circles that would say the most vile things about me, threaten to kill, tell me I was ugly, tell me that everyone I knew thought I was a joke, I was a monster, my family hated me, that I should kill myself, they'd download and edit my photos into caricatures or depictions of violence. They would fill my ask box with hundreds of asks detailing how they'd kill me, call me slurs, describe the ways that I should kill myself, and pretty much everything else I mentioned above with the reblogs. Their words were carefully curated to try and break me, break my spirit, break my will to live. I tried reporting it. But it was impossible to keep up with, and like many others I saw no real response. Eventually I learned that I had to block all of them. 100's of blogs, eventually 1000's of blogs. My block list these days is incredibly extensive. I had to wade through their blogs, traverse sickening hate speech and imagery to eliminate entire circles of people harassing me. I became jaded to the hate speech, hardened to it. But mind you, I shouldn't have had to expose myself to all of this just to be at peace here amongst my community. I received no help, I was left to my own devices to protect myself. The people who hurt me never saw consequences. It was painful, it was unfair, and no one else should have to put the hours upon hours of effort and exposure to hate in to protect themselves like I did. But again my experience is not unique.

I have had to repeat this process of preemptive blocking periodically once a new circle discovers me. Blocking them all before they can start the process of hate all over again. A process of hate that seems to be hitting my community with rapidly increasing fervor as of late.

I've seen others experience far worse than me. The TERF circles will hunt down their personal information and doxx them. Expose their home address, telephone numbers, names of their family members. I can't begin to imagine the terror my queer siblings must feel when someone tells then that they want to murder them all while showing them that they know where you live. This is not a new thing, not a rare tactic, it happens. And we've all seen the news stories of trans people being murdered by people who planned it and were vocal about it.

I know this is depressing. And it doesn't reflect all of my experiences. I've had wonderful experiences here, met amazing people, made close friends, found inspiration, found hope. I found a community.

And it's my community, and I never want to let it go.

I do have fear that making this statement will get me banned. But, I wanted to say it. I wanted it to exist in the world so that everyone who doesn't know our experiences has a chance to understand and with luck empathize.

I'll part on these words and hope for the best both for myself and for every member of the community.

[bro-atz]

all tatted up— back tattoo

in which: there's a really good reason why san never called you after you hooked up

pair: san/afab!reader

word count: 3.8k

content: smut, san gets tipsy/drunk but in this world he's a horny drunk... not a cute drunk..., bedroom sex, unprotected (consensual) sex (remember to wrap it up irl!), tattoos, he calls you kitten a lot, creampies, spanking, a lot of what happened the last time but more?, completely consensual!

author's note: yes i saw the performance yes i stopped breathing yes i cried. two things: 1. help; 2. let's pretend that san didn't have all the brushstroke tattoos in the previous ff yeah? he has the wolf, the hand tattoos, the warrior across the ribcage, and the bands around his arms (i also edited the ff to reflect that...) and yes this is definitely a continuation of all tatted up you're welcome

tag list: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis apply for the permanent taglist here! part one | part two | part three

“Hey, Y/N. How’s it going?” your bouncer friend greeted you with the most irritating smile.

“Why is your face like that?” you asked with a frown.

“Well… Remember that one guy? The guy who was standing next to you when we had that big birthday party call in?”

Your blood immediately began to boil. San. Choi San. That asshole.

“Tell him to fucking get lost.”

The bouncer flinched and looked at you with slight fear in his eyes.

“W-why? I thought you’d be happy… He was like asking for you, and he was super sweet while—”

“Dude, just shut up,” you took out your irritation on the poor guy. “You don’t know anything. I don’t wanna deal with him, so just get him the fuck outta here.”

“Sorry, hun, but until he comes onto you, I can’t kick him out.”

“Ugh! Fine. Just keep him away from me then.”

He opened his mouth to say another thing, but you were done. You needed, like needed, that drink stat. You greeted the bartender, who was a little busy since the bar was busier that day, and sat your ass down in one of the bar stools and waited for your drink instead of conversing with them like you usually did. And, just as your drink arrived, so did the one human being you didn’t ever want to see ever again.

“Hi, Y/N,” San greeted softly, a gentle smile on his face.

“No.”

You turned away from him, but he just walked to the other side of the stool. You should’ve just gotten up and walked away, but you were stubborn— you were there first, so why the fuck did you have to move? You turned away again, hoping that he would give up the more you kept turning.

“Come on, don’t be like that…”

“What the fuck? You don’t get to fucking say a thing, you prick! I haven’t heard a single word from you since that night, so what the fuck dude?”

You turned away again, but San appeared right in front of you again. He reached out to you as if he wanted to hold you to keep you from turning again, but he stopped. He knew his place.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” his apology sounded pretty sincere (which it was). “I have a reason why, but I’m sure you don’t wanna hear it.”

“Yeah, I don’t.”

You turned away once more, only to turn yourself back this time because you couldn’t resist the urge to confront him. You were pissed, and you seriously wanted him to know that.

“Why the fuck are you here, anyway? What happened to not wanting to go to a bar?”

“My friends wanted to go drinking, so I chose this place in hopes I’d get to see you again.”

“Hah!” you scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You could’ve called, San. You could’ve even texted. You even fucking said that you wanted to go on a date— you were the one to ask that, not me, so what the fuck happened man?”

“I know. I’m sorry, kitten, I know I should’ve called or texted, but I just got so caught up in my own world.” You held your breath and nearly hiccuped when he brought his face near yours, his warm breath hitting the skin on your neck as he whispered, “But I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I seriously doubt it,” you responded while pushing him away.

“I promise you I seriously did think about you all the time and loved every moment with you! Tell me. How can I prove it to you? How can I make it up to you?”

“No idea. You can try, but I doubt you’ll succeed.”

With that, you stood up, took your drink with you, and fully walked away from him. Truth be told, if you really didn’t want to interact with him, you would’ve just left the bar, and even though it had been a whole fucking month since you last saw him, he still made your pussy tremble. You challenged him already knowing he’d win, but you wanted to see how he’d try to win you over.

So, it completely took you by surprise when you saw him order a beer from the bartender. You thought he didn’t drink, so this was… New. It kind of excited you in a way— you knew how he fucked while he was sober, but drunk? Definitely something you wanted to explore.

San didn’t come to you as soon as he got that beer. No, he stayed at the bar. He finished one beer, then two within thirty minutes. When he got his third beer, he finally approached you. You turned away from him, but then decided that was the worst fucking idea because he could grind into your ass. So, you faced him. He didn’t utter a damn word while he was standing before you. Even as the bar got more and more packed, he just remained standing, but the distance between he and you closed fairly quickly. Then you were pressed up right against him. You could’ve moved away, taken a step back, or fully left, but shit. San was built like a soft but firm wall and you just wanted to lean against that wall all the live long day.

The other reason you didn’t move was because he was so turned on. You looked up and saw that his face was flushed red (most likely because of the beer), but he was acting so nonchalant despite the fact that his cock was ready to burst at any given moment. He was looking away from you and somewhere, God know where, into the bar. Just that side profile and what he looked like drinking his beer while his tight, black turtleneck showed his muscles rippling from the side could’ve knocked you out from the beginning.

San noticed you staring and looked down at you, a slight smirk on his face.

“Will you let me prove and make it up to you now?”

San’s apartment was the same as it was a month ago, but this time things were a little different— you and San slammed his front door open, kicked your shoes off haphazardly, and tore through his place until you reached his bed, your lips locked with his the entire time. His tongue was annihilating yours the more he shoved it into your mouth, his hungry, animalistic kisses wrecking your lips as well.

San tossed you onto the bed and immediately started stripping. He pulled his shirt off incredibly fast, flung it to some place in his studio apartment, and pinned you down, his lips yearning for yours once again. And just as quickly as he tossed his shirt away, he tossed your shirt and bra as well, a short gasp leaving you as you wondered how the fuck he was able to strip you down so quickly.

“Do you want me to prove it first?” he asked you breathlessly in between kisses.

“How?” you barely managed to get out.

You whined slightly when he stopped kissing you to sit up. His hands grabbed onto the waistbands of your pants and underwear, bunching the fabric up in his hands before pulling down and sending them flying at the speed of light. San was a fucking magician when it came to stripping, apparently.

A loud cry of pleasure left your soul and echoed throughout the apartment the second San rushed two of his thick fingers into your pussy. They immediately target the g-spot, and before you could even think straight for one second, he had you cumming, squirting all over his bedsheets.

“Fuck, that was quick, kitten,” there was a hint of a laugh in his words.

“Well, it’s been one fucking month, San.”

“What, you haven’t fucked anyone else since then?”

“Do you think anyone can compare to you?” you shot back. “No one will ever compare to you, you fucking beast.”

San shivered— hearing you call him beast was such a turn on, a turn on he didn’t even know he had— and grinned.

“Well, I’ll make it up to you, but first, lemme prove myself.”

With that, San dove right into your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue pushed its way through your entrance and inside you. You gasped loudly and pushed your head back into the mattress. You were still recovering from the high of your last orgasm, still raw, so him just going at you ruthlessly had you squirming, writhing, crying.

“Oh! Oh, fuck! San-ngh, I’m—”

You couldn’t finish your sentiment. You cried loudly as pleasure washed over you, your pussy convulsing and staining the sheets with your slick. You were practically sobbing at that point, tears trickling down your face, the pleasure simply becoming too much for you to handle.

Just as San pressed his tongue flat against the lips of your pussy and dragged upwards, you reached for his hair and grasped it tightly, pulling him up and away from your pussy.

“You,” you panted, still recovering from the high of back to back orgasms. “Proved your fucking point. You proved yourself. Now make it up to me.”

“How would you like me to do that for you, kitten?” San asked while wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Fuck me senseless. I want to feel your fat cock pile-drive me into next year. I want you to fill me up until I’m overflowing and spilling everywhere. Make those tattoos dance again, lover-boy.”

San raised his eyebrows in surprise first, then smiled with a slight smirk. Wordlessly, he got off the bed and turned around to take off his pants; and that’s when you saw it.

“Woah, wait, stop,” you told him as you pushed yourself up and crawled over to him.

“W-what?”

You grabbed the waistband of his pants and sat his ass down on the edge of the bed before running your palm over and down his spine. You seriously thought the tattoo was going to rub off, so you were completely taken aback when it did not.

“When— What— How— Huh?!”

“Oh, yeah, that,” San let out a light laugh. “That was part of the reason I never called.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

“I got that tattoo like two days after we slept together. It was healing, kitten. I wanted you to scratch my back and show me how fucking good I make you feel.”

Your face got hot red as he explained himself, your entire body flushing with lust and desire.

“And you can’t really scratch a tattoo while it’s healing,” he continued to explain. “Otherwise it won’t turn out as pretty as it did.”

“Fuck…”

You, at first, were going to tell him that he still could’ve fucking called, but knowing you, the second you heard his voice, you want to fuck him immediately. He definitely played it safe.

“It’s all good and healed now, though, so go ahead.” San smirked as he quipped, “Scratch away, kitten.”

The horrible pun made you want to not fuck him anymore, but once he finished stripping down entirely, that opinion immediately changed. God, his cock. You dreamt about it ever since you slept with him the first time, and you even told yourself you’d do anything to have this cock in your life again.

Turning around so that you were on your hands and knees, you looked over your shoulder and wiggled your ass, making San’s dick twitch and rise higher. Running his tongue over his lower lip before biting his lip, San got on the bed and knelt behind you, his hand resting on your asscheek.

“Raw,” you stated the second you felt his hot touch on your skin.

“Of course.”

San rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds before swiftly thrusting into you, his cock gliding in because of how wet you were. You cried out when his waist hit your ass with incredible force, the sound of the slap drowning in your moan.

Quickly and without remorse, San pounded away. He would slap your ass sporadically, and you would yelp every single time. Your asscheeks got redder with every slap, and the stings of his slaps immediately subdued when he gripped your ass so fucking hard that his fingers were digging into your skin.

“You like that kitten, don’t you?” San bit out, his voice low and nearly growling. “You like this beastly cock ripping your insides into shreds, huh?”

“Yes! Fuck! Oh, God! Ye-es!” you responded in between each slap of his waist against yours.

San pushed your upper back down so that your ass would raise and your back would arch with a slope that made his dick go insane. His thrusts sped up when your ass was in the air and you were pressing your breasts on the bed. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as you cried out for the man more and more, the pleasure making your eyes fog up and your tongue nearly loll out of your mouth.

“S-san!” you cried loudly, trying your best to overpower the sound of his thrusts into your red, sore pussy. “I wanna— Angh— Hold your hands.”

There were two things San could’ve done: one was to bend over you and press his hands over yours as he continued to fuck you from behind, and the other was to flip you around and lace his fingers with yours properly. He opted for the latter.

You were on your back, your legs splayed out so your pussy was on fully display. San filled your pussy so quickly and pushed himself in between your legs with such force you felt like he was going to split you right open. Lacing his fingers with yours, San had your hands resting on either side of your head, pinning you the same way he would even without your hands tight in his grasp.

San wasn’t thrusting as fast as he was earlier, but God, he was slamming his pelvis into yours so fucking hard that your ass was digging into the mattress. The harder he thrust, the closer he got to your cervix— he was going so deep into you that you were losing your sanity with every slam. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, and you were chewing on your lower lip trying so desperately to at least keep your words sane since the thoughts in your head were anything but sane.

“Kitten, don’t do that,” you heard San say in that baritone voice with tiny pants in between word.

Your eyes were barely able to focus on his face as you tried to make eye contact and see what it was he was telling you not to do. It wasn’t until his thumb pulled on your lower lip and he quickly sucked on it did you realize he didn’t want you to keep quiet.

“Don’t hold back. I want you to scream my name, make me go deaf.”

“FUCK!” you immediately cried, moans and groans and other profanities tumbling out of your mouth. “SO GOOD! SAN! HARDER, OH GOD I’M SO FUCKING CLOSE!”

“Oh yeah, there we go kitten,” he said with a slight grin, satisfaction laced in his words. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

San sped up the tiniest bit, and you fucking lost it. You flung your head side to side as the pleasure made you writhe entirely. San grabbing and squeezing your breast did not make it better at all. You so badly wanted to cum, but you weren’t quite there yet. So, you did as he told you to. You wrapped your legs around his waist, then your arms over his shoulders, your nails immediately digging into the skin on his shoulder blades. You clawed at him, yearning for more.

“FUCK! FASTER!”

You heard San’s throaty chuckle in your ear as he dropped his head and gave you exactly what you wanted. He was moving so fast that the whole bed was shifting back and forth with his power. You clung to his back and cried his name when he finally rammed just hard enough into your cervix. You came loudly, your cunt clenching as you entire body trembled, your orgasm fully wrecking you.

San fucking lost it when you clenched that hard around his fat cock. After quickly grabbing both of your arms, the insatiable beast was pinning you down and hovering over you, sweat dripping down his face, neck, abs, and arms. His eyes were hazy, and his jaw was clenched tightly. With the way he was holding your arms, you felt like could snap them in half at any given moment. That look of his— that incredible intense version of San— made your cunt tighten.

His eyes got sharper, and he definitely dissociated. He held both your arms up above your head with one hand while choking you lightly with the other. Just seeing him grit his teeth and look at you with such intensity while constricting your breath made tears roll down your face because it felt so fucking good.

Your mind went blank when San slammed his waist into you without remorse, his cum rushing heavily into you. You felt his cock twitch and throb as he came, a deep groan leaving his body.

San pushed himself up and held onto your waist, raising it up slightly as he continued to move in and out of you, cum still spurting out of his cock. Finally, he pulled out, and along with his soft, thick cock came a flow of his cum. He caught his breath and watched his white stickiness trail down from your red, raw pussy in between your asscheeks and over your hole— and just like that, he’s hardagain.

You felt his cock stiffen and rub against you as it rose up. Before the man could even say anything, you were moving (pretty slowly because your hips and waist were on fire) towards him. You lightly pushed his shoulder back, and it was his turn to lie down on the bed.

Spreading his thighs out, you knelt in between his legs and took his firm dick into your hands. You stroked him up and down with both your hands and watched as the man ran his fingers through his hair and held it back, gasps and grunts leaving his lips with every stroke. But you wanted more— you wanted to hear him beg and leak profanities from his rosy lips.

Slowly, you took him into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the head of his cock briefly, the man’s breath hitching. You slowly lowered yourself, taking more and more of him in. But, you took in a little more than you were able to. The tip of his penis hit your throat, making you gag.

“Ngh, yes, kitten. Just like that.”

You pressed your hands into his thighs as you continued to blow him. You wanted to mix it up when you gave head— for instance, you took him in completely, then would release as if you were sucking on a lollipop, or you just moved quickly while moaning and humming. Regardless of what you did, San fucking loved it. When you moved your head all the way up gasping for air, the mix of your spit, your cum, and his cum all mixed together and trailing from your mouth and tongue to his cock was too much for him to handle. You took him back into your mouth once more and moaned, the vibrations finally getting to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— kitten, I’m—”

San couldn’t finish what he was saying because you pushed yourself all the way down on his cock once more and gagged, the gag sending him to pure bliss. He immediately reached out for your head and pushed you down as he came into you mouth with a loud groan.

Seconds later, the high wore off, and San looked at you to see him gazing at him with the glazed, wide eyes of yours that fucking turns him on, your cock still in his mouth. You waited for him to calm down before gulping down his cum, his eyes locked on you. You sat up and wiped your lips with your thumb to lick the rest of his cum that lingered on your face off.

“Oh my fucking God,” San groaned and squeezed his eyes shut before immediately sitting up and pinning you down.

You let out a little giggle as you felt San’s grasp on you tighten, his eyes and lips quivering as he said, “Goddamn it, kitten! Why are you so naughty?!”

All you do in response is run your tongue over your lower lip, bite it sensually, and then let out the tiniest giggle, provoking him once again to completely demolish you.

San woke up mildly confused. He usually got morning wood, but he was extremely turned on— how was his morning wood that intense?

Then, he blinked the sleep out of eyes to see you pressed into his chest, your arms wrapped around his torso. He looked a little closer and saw that you were fucking cockwarming him this early in the morning. You planted a little kiss on his chest before moving away from him slightly to gaze at his dazed and confused face.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“Fu-uck kitten, you… You’re really…”

San couldn’t find the words after that— he was speechless. So, he did the next best thing and showed his gratitude by grabbing you by the neck and kissing you roughly this early in the morning, his thumb pressing into your neck a little too much, so much that it turned you on and made you roll your body against his, making San take in a deep shuddering breath.

“Just saying,” you purred into his ear. “If you ghost me again, this is what you’ll miss out on forever.”

You then swung your leg over his waist and intentionally rolled your body into his this time. Then, you took his hand and moved it to your ass, the man immediately rubbing and clenching your ass cheek.

“So, will you ghost me again?”

“Fuck no,” San said definitively. “God no.”

“What about if you get another tattoo?”

“Even if I get another tattoo, I’ll let you scratch the shit outta it— Fuck, Y/N. You’re so fucking perfect. I will never ever ever let go of you now.”

He leaned in to whisper, “You’re mine, kitten.”

“Good boy.” You grinned and kissed his chest lightly. Then, you brought your finger to his neck and trailed a line while saying, “Now, about that neck tattoo…”

[fl3shm4id3n]

ₜₕₑ ₗₒᵥₑᵣₛ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐰𝐧. 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: (ᴘᴀꜱᴛ) ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴛᴀᴠ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Star-crossed lovers concept, Cazador, vampirism, medieval sexism, abuse of any kind, manipulation , blood, torture, torment, violence, suicide attempt/mentioned, mentions of intimacy, death, murder, stake to the heart, angst, reincarnation. Not edited, pictures ain't mine, I got them off Pinterest.

Masterlist

Your whole life changed when your parents had sent you off to marry some Lord known as Cazador. He had been in search for a concubine. It was pretty normal for noble men to have a concubine. He could have as many as he could afford. Your parents were thrilled by the idea of you, their only daughter being with a powerful Lord. As much as you didn't to, you had to. It was your duty as their child to follow their orders. Whatever they say, goes. It was settled then, you were going to become Lord Cazador's concubine for as long as he lives. That day that you left your home, was the same day you never saw your parents again. His castle was strange, his servants were strange. They were like puppets that only followed their master's word.

The first couple months weren't so bad. Cazador was respectful, and he had given you time to adjust to your new life. He had began to spoil you, giving you things that you'd never thought you've ever see in your eyes. From the finest tailored dresses, to jewelry, makeup, books, and so on. You were basically given the life that many girls would dream off. Despite all that, it still felt strange, as if something was wrong, but you didn't put to much mind into it. You passed it as if you were home sick. As much as you tried to ignore it, the worry got bigger, as if it was a weight on your shoulders getting much heavier and heavier throughout the weeks. One night Cazador had decided to make you his. You felt nervous since you've never been with a man in your life. But that night, would be the one you'd remember for the rest of your immortal life.

Its already been years, those years became centuries. You were still Cazador's concubine. Everyday you'd wake up and just have the though of what Cazador would have planned that night. It was a routine that just kept on going. You'd wake up, and have the maid spawns come dress you. You no longer had a choice on what you could wear. It was all Cazador, he'd pick everything about your look for the night, from dresses, shoes, makeup art, hair style, jewelry and hair. Everything was either a blood red or black. His favorite colors. If you refused to wear what he'd pick out for you, then you'd wear nothing. You'd remain bare until you've learn to appreciate what he does for you. That was a way to manipulate you, he made you think that he did so much for you and the least you could do is learn to be more appreciative of what he has given you.

Its been a while since you've seen your reflection. You've almost forgot how you'd look like. Sometimes you'd spend hours and hours looking in the mirror, trying to form on how you'd look like before, but nothing. You'd just see the furniture in your room along with other things in the room. As some kind of gift, Cazador had commissioned a painting of you, he's often tell how generous he was and how he didn't have to do this. You were dressed like the night that you had been turned into a vampire spawn. Sitting still as the artist painted your every detail. You'd look at that picture as if it was the only thing keeping you alive. That painting made you remember on how your face might have looked like. But there was one thing that you didn't like, and that was the scar on your left side of your neck. It was a scar, caused by Cazador's bite of that night. It may have been a small detail, but it was noticeable. It was also some kind of reminder of what he had done to you. Everything you'd see that small bit of the painting, you'd feel a sharp pain on your neck, right on your now scarred side. Sometimes you wish you could cover it, but due to the dresses you wore, you weren't able to.

Whenever you'd disagree with Cazador on something, he'd threated to burn the picture and to never get you a new one. You'd often cry and beg on your knees for him not to do it, also to forgive you for speaking out of term. He seemed to love making you cry, he'd watch how the makeup would roll down your cheeks, messing it up and how you were on your knees with your head on the floor, begging or how'd you'd hug his knees and cry in desperation. It was some kind of sickening pleasure of his. He also love to torment you to the point that you have a breakdown. It would happen constantly, you'd never catch a break.

Not only that, but you were force to learn how to play instruments. As a way to entertain yourself and Cazador. When it came to string instruments, he'd have you play for hours and hours until your hands sore. If you'd mess up a note, you were force to restart and play the instrument until the tips of your fingers bled, even your nails would break and dig into your already cut and bleeding skin. When you were done, your hands would be shaking and raw, with blood running down your hands and fingers. You also liked to embroid, or at least he liked how you'd embroid. If he didn't like the work, he'd have you start all over again, or he'd make you sew until you hands were weak. He just loved seen you in pain. He loved watching you tear up as you sewed and played instruments, in pain. As a way to 'heal' you, Cazador would lick and bite at your bleeding fingers, to add to the pain.

Some nights you wished you could just walked into the sun, but that was impossible. Most of the night you'd be in your room. For hours, only coming out when Cazador would want you to, he'd basically keep you locked in. You barely spook to the spawns at times. Sometimes you'd write down notes and slide them under the door for the spawns to see. This was a form of punishment, even though you didn't do anything to get punished. Not just that but the only way for you to have blood was by begging for him to allow you to feed, he'd leave you starving for days until you were fed up and needed a doze of blood. But he'd have you drink the blood from his mouth, as much as you didn't want to, you did. You had the choice to just stop feeding and either go insane and violent. But you knew he wasn't going to allow you to do that. If you attempted to, it'd become worse.

One night things were different, Cazador had been gone for a while. You assumed he was probably looking for another mortal to fall for his trap and make him another spawn. That night you were in your room again, looking at the empty mirror as if you were trying to find yourself again, but you knew that was useless. Then Cazador bursted in the room. Causing you to flinch an grip onto your clasped hands much harder, digging your nails into your skin, fearing that he might due something to you, again. Then he introduced you to his new spawn. A man. He was in his late thirties, with brown hair, pale complexation, green eyes and his clothes were dirty, as if he was covered in dirt. You noticed that his right side of his neck had wound, a bite. That was already scaring. The other spawns didn't have those markings. Except for you and now him. You learned that his name was Astarion.

Once you were introduced, he made his new spawn get on his knees and kiss the toe of your shoe. This was something he'd have his spawns do, just to see them on their knees, humiliating themselves, by kissing the toes of your shoes. You'd often say that you were his one and only high raking 'Spawn Concubine'. As much as you didn't want him to go through that humiliation, he did so anyways. He already seemed scared of Cazador and what he'd do if he didn't do what he wanted. As he began to get up from his knees, you and him locked eyes. You could see the fear in each other's eyes, as if it was reflecting. You were both scared of him. And he knew it. Not only that, but he loved to see the fear that you both had.

That same night in your room, you could hear the screaming happening in the cellar and the smell of blood. You could hear how Cazador was already 'branding' his knew spawn, just like the others. You didn't get branded like they did, he'd explained to you that you're above the spawns and there for you shouldn't be branded, besides. He had already branded you. It was a reminder on your neck. For the attire night you could hear the screams echoing through the castle, as much as you wanted to not hear it, you weren't able to muffle out the noises. You felt horrible not being able to stop Cazador's torture. Last time you attempted to, was bad.

Then Cazador had come up with a great idea, his new pet, would now be in charge of going out and bringing back a prey for him and you feed on. He believed that Astarion had the perfect face to lure in any person he got his eyes on. Astarion tried to refuse and disobey, as a punishment, he locked him up in a cellar for over a whole year. With no light what so ever. You had tried and asking Cazador to please let him out, but he refused to listen. You were his concubine, not his wife. He never made you his wife, because he knew that if he did, he'd have to treat you as his equal. So he never married you, he only kept you as his concubine, as his possession for his pleasures. Finally, Astarion had been out of the cell, except his appearance changed. His once brown hair was now white and his once green eyes were now a blood red. That whole year in the cellar had changed him. Since then on, he began to obey his master.

So he began to bring back a prey, either a man or a woman. Cazador would be pleased with this, and would 'reward' him by giving him a rat to feed of. If Astarion refused to eat the rat, then he'd be killed by the other brainless spawns. You and Cazador would feed from the victim, together. He'd go for the neck and you'd go for the wrists, you were never allowed to go for the neck, if you did. Then you'd be punished severely. He'd just add that you should be greatful that you're allowed to feed. Some victims he'd keep as his spawns and others he'd kill just for his fun. This went on for a couple of years.

During those years, you had actually grown close to Astarion. You knew he only did what he did for survival, like you. You normally wouldn't ask Cazador for anything, but you had asked him if Astarion could he your personal servant, when he isn't out getting a prey. He found it odd, but allowed it. He saw no harm in that. So you had Astarion be with you for most of the evening and nights he wasn't out. He was shy at first, he thought that you too were like Cazador, due to his master's concubine and because you had a much higher rank. Except you were different. You too were a victim, except you weren't treated as a spawn, but a possession.

Him and you did a lot of things that you'd normally do on a daily. When you'd practice playing an instrument, Astarion would watch and listen to you. He too began to learn to play when you had offered to teach him. Same with reading, you'd read him books that Cazador had given you throughout the centuries. This was something new to Astarion, ever since he was brought by Cazador, he'd be constantly tormented by him. Until you had stepped in and asked for him to be with you at all times. When he wasn't out. Not only that, but you were kind to him, at first he thought you were the same as his master, but no. You were way different than the man you both feared.

Astarion loved to spend his time with you, it gave him some reason to not give up. Your kindness was keeping him alive in a way. At times when you weren't together, he'd be staring at the painting of you, hanged in the middle of the stairs of the castle. The way that you were painted was angelic like, you looked like a Queen. But he also noticed the same scar on your neck. Of course he knew that it was Cazador's doing. Besides that, you were just so beautiful. He almost couldn't believe that you were kind to him. Every time he'd be back from getting a prey, he always looked forward into being with you for a couple of days.

You were surprised Cazador had allowed this in the first place. Because you were often kept isolated front he other spawns and weren't really allowed to form any kind of friendship with them. That's the biggest reason why you'd be locked up in your room and barely able to speak with them. But Astarion seemed to be the only one you were allowed to speak to, for a while before he becomes a brainless spawns like the others. You hoped that it didn't lead to that. You really liked your new friend, it was as if you and him had formed a bond. A friendly one at that, but you felt more towards the now white haired male. It felt wrong in a way, but at the same time.

That evening was a nice one, you were doing your needle work with Astarion. Working on a black shirt that belonged to Cazador. You were sewing with a gold colored threat. Making flowers. That night Astarion didn't have to go to get prey. It was a nice and quiet, and no Cazador lurking by, since he had to take care of some 'business'. You were used to him disappearing out of nowhere with the excuse of being busy. You were to focused on the peacock you were working on while Astarion tried to follow your lead. You began to teach him how to embroider since he had asked and he was curious on your handy work. He had seen your work, specially on his Master's clothing.

Astarion was focused on the cloth in the hoop, trying to match the flower that you were making. Then he pinched his finger with the needle. Hissing in pain and dropping the hoop. You stopped what you were doing, looking over to him. You placed the shirt down and moved over towards Astarion. "Let me see." You said, then you took his bleeding finger into your hands too look at it. "I'm fine my lady." He said, respectfully. Watching you care for his pricked finger. You then leaned down and gave his injured finger a kiss. He felt his face heat up, by this gesture. You've done this so many times, and yet it feels like the first time. You didn't seem to mind getting blood on your perfectly red painted lips. You looked over at him and smiled. "Better?" you asked him, seen the flush look on his face, he nodded almost shyly like the first time you met.

You both locked eyes. Remaining frozen as you both looked at one another. You didn't even realize how you and him began to lean into one another. Slowly closing your eyes, then you both kissed. Your cold lips molding into one another's, softly. You've never been kissed this nice and sweet before. Cazador was rough and impressment. But Astarion? He was slow and passionate. You placed your hands on his shoulders, as a way to hold onto each other. He then snaked his hand at the back of your head, carefully holding your head up. Not wanting to mess up your perfectly combed hair with many hair pens and other flowers adorned to it.

The kiss was short, you pulled away and looked at him. He did the same. You didn't have to exchange words, it was clear that you and him loved that kiss. And you wanted to kiss him again. So you did, you kissed him again, a bit more eager this time. He followed your lead. You both completely forgot about what you were doing before. Now you were focused on this. You laid your body on the soft cushion of the couch. Pulling Astation on top of you. He didn't hesitate to get on top of you. He placed himself between your legs. As he continued to kiss you, more deeply. Then you ran your hand up his white shirt, feeling his cold skin against your cold fingers. Slightly touching his scarred back. Asatrion was too caught up in the moment to care, he took began to slide his hand up your skirt. Feeling your soft and delicate skin. He then pulled away and look at you.

You had a look of concern. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" you asked nervously. "No, it's just. I don't want to take advantage of you. I wouldn't want to do something that might hurt you." He explained, you knew what he said was true. You placed your hands on both sides of his cheeks. "It's okay, I want this to happen. But if you don't, then I understand." You responded, with a small smile, as a way to comfort him. "I do too, but before we go any further. Please tell me that I have your consent. I wouldn't want you to be hurt... like he has hurt you..." he said worriedly. It was no secret that Cazador always got what he wanted no matter what. You understood why he'd ask for your consent. "You have my consent, but I have yours?" You asked him, it was only fair that you'd asked for his since he asked for yours. Astarion gave you a genuine smile. "Yes, you have my consent." He responded. Then you and him went back into kissing on another. You were too focused on one another that you didn't even noticed that you were actually being watched.

It's been a while since that happened. You'd think about that night a lot. You've never been intimate with anyone, besides Cazador. But this was a new form of intimacy, Astarion actually cared about what you wanted. Unlike his Master who didn't care about anyone but himself. You felt shivered running up your spine, just thinking about Astarion's hands touching your cold skin again. As much as you wanted to do it again, you didn't want to get caught but Cazador and have Asatrion be punished. If anything, you'd be the one to take the punishment instead of him.

Then the doors of your quarters were open, it was Cazador, he looked much calm, very calm. It was almost concerning. "My dear, may I have a word with you?" He asked, you felt a lump build up in your throat and you got nervous. "Yes, what is it?" You asked him, trying to remain calm as possible. "I've heard something from one of the Spawns. That you and Astarion engaged in something, that didn't involve, embroidery." This made your non beating heart sink, now he knew. "Just say yes or no. No need for an explanation. Just yes or no will be fine." He explained to you. There was no hiding it, he knew and you know what happens when you lie to him.

Taking a deep breath, you answered. "Yes, we did, what you think we did." You responded. Cazador only nodded, then he walked closer to you, taking your hands and brought you up from the bed. He looked at your eyes for a moment, then he leaned in for a kiss. That was odd, he was calm? You thought, as he continued to kiss you. Then he pulled away, placing his hand on your cold cheek affectionately. You only stared at him, confused. "How I'm going to miss those eyes." He said, only making you even more confused. Then your eyes widen and tears developed in your eyes. A strong pain grew in your chest.

Looking down, you saw a wooden stake, piercing through the red decorated fabric of the gown. Blood already pooling on your chest. You looked back at Cazador who had a look of displeasure, with the stake in his hand. He pushed it further and pushed you down, making you whimper. Then you fell to your right side, you were having a hard time breathing in pain. You touched the now bloodied stake. Attempting to pull it out, but it was no use, you'll be dead in a bit. Your hands were shaking aggressively. Laying on your back, in pain and tears pooling in your eyes. As you tried to keep your eyes open, it was no use. You were growing weaker by the minute, the last thing you saw was Cazador watching you die as someone had come in to the courters.

As soon as Astarionn saw you on the floor, bloodied. He couldn't help but feel a wave of shock grow in his eyes. He covered in mouth in disbelief. Seen your now deceased corpse on the floor. With a stake to your heart and blood on your beautiful gown. He didn't hesitate going over and pulling you towards him. "No no, my lady." He whimpered, trying to see any sign of life, but nothing. You were gone, forever. "Be grateful that it wasn't you. I wouldn't want to loose you too soon now." Cazador taunted at him. Astation was more focused on you. He felt all sorts of emotions going on in his mind. All he could do is hug you close to him, holding your head near his lips. Trying to process what was happening. He had accidently touched the blood that was pooled on your gown and accidently smeared it on your left side of your face. He couldn't believe what was happening.

He stayed frozen with your body in his arm. Mumbling that he was sorry many times. Wishing that you'd wake up at any moment now. But now, you remained limp, not moving one inch. You were gone, the love of his life, was gone. He was forced by Cazador to let go of your body, he didn't want to. He too wanted to get flayed just to be with you again, but he knew that his master will not allow it. Your body had been burned, along with most of your belongings and such. As a way to erase you for good. Despite burning everything that you owned, that was not going have Astarion forget about you.

Two centuries had already passed and Astarion had still not forgot about you. You were in his mind for ages, he still remembered your face, smell, voice, everything. He was not going to allow your memory of you to be forgotten. The painting of you had been moved into Cazador's quarters since he had decided to keep it as his biggest trophy. Astarion had got a few glimpses of the painting when entering the room, he hated the fact that he painting was moved. But one night, he got a small sheet of paper and pain, drawing only your face on the painting. He did a decent job drawing your features, they weren't the best, but he did what he could. He also left out the scar on the left side of your neck, knowing that you didn't like that scar. He kept the picture with him at all times. He would spend hours and hours looking at it. He'd tear up almost all the time, allowing his tears to land on the soft vanilla colored paper. Often wishing that it was him who got staked instead of you. You didn't deserve to die so coldly by HIM.

Then he got captured by the mindflayers and things headed towards another direction. He was taken far from Baldur's Gate, with a tadpole inserted in his brain and now he had to find a way to get rid of it. Just great, that's exactly what he just needed. Then he came across a party of people. Maybe he could join them and help them get back to Baldur's Gate, as well as whatever needed to get done. Perhaps he could use his charm for his advantage. It was an easy plan, but then, he set his eyes on their leader. He couldn't believe it, was it possible You had the face of someone he knew, someone he loved many centuries ago. Perhaps, you may remember him in a way? Or did your new life had made you forget about him? Whatever it was, he wanted to be with you in your new life, maybe he could protect you better or even start an actual relationship with you, but will he fall for you or the person that you once were?

ₙₑₓₜ ₚₐᵣₜ

[navybrat817]

In His Hands

Pairing: Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky's new project is his favorite one yet for a very special reason. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Fluff, implied sexual content, pregnancy, slight feels (it's me), minor flashback, canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My first Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 2) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in Into the Woods AU and time jump from Valentine's Day Tradition, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The buzz of the table saw echoed in the barn as Bucky carefully cut through the maple board, inspecting it to make sure it was even. He put a lot of thought and care into each project and design he created. Everything from cost to maintenance to longevity. His current project was especially close to his heart.

My favorite one yet.

After the fight, coming to grips with his trauma, everything, the city felt different. Bucky longed to have a simpler life. He unexpectedly found a bit of peace in the form of woodwork. Using his hands to build things, and not damage them, kept him busy and happy. But the thing that brought everything full circle was you.

His wife.

"Doll, I still can't believe you said yes."

"Who would say no to you, Jamie?"

He glanced at a photo of the two of you on the wall, still in disbelief that he got to wake up beside you every morning. He found it more and more difficult to get out of bed when he wanted to stay tangled up with you, but the bills wouldn't pay themselves and he had to work to get a paycheck. Lucky for him, his "office" was in the nearby barn. The yard was a decent size, too.

"Great place for a family one day, isn't it?"

"Just about perfect, doll."

Like Steve, he hadn't expected to love living a quiet life outside of the city, but he did. You made a beautiful home together and it wasn't that far of a drive if he wanted to visit. He wondered some days if he was living in a dream because things seemed too good to be true.

If so, he never wanted to wake up.

"Need you to be perfect," he said to himself as he cut another board.

He checked the design again, his eyes narrowed as he thought about how long it would take to finish. You gave him your seal of approval when he showed his idea and reminded him not to put too much pressure on himself. He had plenty of time to make it and other projects came first.

But he hadn't had a task as important as this one.

He removed his safety glasses when the sun shone through the window, giving the place a soothing glow and him a moment to pause and reflect. He made love to you that morning. There was no pain in his left shoulder. Steve planned to stop by this evening. It was just about a perfect day.

How is this my life?

"You know, I think that is going to be your best work yet."

Bucky turned his attention to where you stood in the doorway. He couldn't keep the smile off his face when he noticed you had one of his shirts on. You looked good in his clothes, always had. And seeing you enter a room still took his breath away. He didn't think he could love you more, but he did each day.

If I ever stop breathing from the sight of you, at least your face will be the last thing I see.

His gaze went to your stomach before he closed the distance between the two of you and placed his large hand on it. He hadn't built a crib, but he did his research to be sure he'd make the best and safest one possible. It would be something to hopefully pass on to future generations. Another tradition.

But first and foremost, it would belong to the baby.

Our baby.

"I'm just getting started, but I think you're right," Bucky said, sinking to his knees and kissing your belly. "Only the best for our little jellybean."

Most days he couldn't keep his hands off of you, but it got worse once he found out you were pregnant with his child. You were glowing, more than usual, and he was a moth drawn to the flame. Thankfully you didn't mind and let him indulge.

Your need matched his own.

He'd never forget the joy he felt when you told him you were pregnant. You often brought him snacks or lunch while he worked, but that day you brought him a small gift box, too. It wasn't his birthday or a special occasion, so he had no idea what it could possibly be. Inside were two positive pregnancy tests. He almost dropped them, too stunned to speak. His heart almost burst through his chest when he saw the happy tears in your eyes.

"We're having a baby, Bucky. You're going to be a dad!"

It took a minute to sink in. You were having his baby. He was going to be a dad. You were giving him a family. A life he had only dreamt of.

'I still have to see a doctor, but-"

His mouth came down on yours before you could finish what you had to say, his massive hands framing your face so he could deepen the kiss. He poured his love, passion, soul, everything into it. He took you right there on one of his empty work tables, his left hand on your stomach the entire time.

"I love you, doll. Love you both so much."

He brought you back to the house and made love to you all over again, taking his time to worship you. He didn't get any work done the rest of the day. It was worth it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern filling his eyes when you yawned.

He always checked on you during his breaks to make sure you felt okay, even when you insisted that he didn't need to. Days like this when you visited the barn first, he still had to ask. Any discomfort or pains, he wanted to know and help however he could.

"Just fine," you assured him, tucking a few strands of hair that came loose from his ponytail behind his ear. Just like he couldn't stop touching you, you always found an excuse to run your fingers through his long, brown locks since he grew it back out. "A bit tired, but fine."

"You're not wearing your mama out, are you?" he asked your belly. He pressed his ear against it and felt a slight kick, as if he got an answer. "Good because she needs rest. She has enough to deal with taking care of me."

"We take care of each other," you said.

Bucky wanted to believe that. You had a good set-up in the city before the two of you decided to move and he worried you'd regret going with him. You reminded him that you were still going to work from home and it was a choice you made together.

Partners. Equals. Soulmates.

"Yes, we do," he said fondly, focusing on your stomach again. "But can you believe she had the nerve to ask if we should buy you a crib? Like she forgot I could make you one. Don't hold it against her, jellybean. Hormones and baby brain."

"Bucky!" you scolded before you laughed.

He chuckled as he kissed your stomach a second time. "I'm kidding. Kind of. I did have to drive all over town the other day to find the potato chips she wanted."

Bucky would drive to the ends of the earth to satisfy any craving you had.

"Hey. Our baby is the one asking for them and it was the only flavor that would provide any satisfaction," you defended yourself. "And I balanced it out with fruit, so everyone wins."

"Yes we do and I'm glad. I need you both nice and healthy," he said as he stood up.

"We're both fine. You know that," you smiled.

He hadn't missed a single appointment, wanting to be there every step of the way. Listening to his baby's heartbeat was like hearing his favorite song again for the first time. He actually waved at the screen when you had your sonogram. And he swore the baby waved back.

Bucky also bought a few books on babies and parenthood. While he knew some life lessons couldn't be learned from a book, he wanted to be prepared. You supported him in that and baby proofing the house in advance.

Your only request was that you didn't want to know what you were having, which he agreed to.

It would be a beautiful surprise for both of you.

"Need you both safe, too," he added.

"We are safe," you said, glancing around. "Our home is safe. You don't need to worry."

Bucky tried not to. Your home was secure and he kept a clean and safe shop in the barn, but he didn't want to take a risk by having you too close to any of the tools or get irritated by the dust. The only table he let you touch was the empty one where he made love to you. Maybe that was why it was still empty.

"I guess you're right," he said, brushing his lips against your forehead. "You know if we have a girl, I'm never letting her out of my sight."

"Oh, I know," you giggled, putting your hand on his wide chest. Feeling the wedding band through his shirt was one of his favorite things. "And if we have a boy, you'll teach him to be a gentleman. Though I imagine he'll probably be just like you."

"Hey, I am a gentleman, ma'am," he smiled.

"Mmm. You keep telling yourself that," you teased.

Bucky hoped they took after you. Kind, but fierce. Loving and fair. Whether he had a daddy's girl or a mini version of himself, he just wanted to have a special place in their heart.

"And you really don't mind that I'm making the crib, do you?"

"Of course, I don't," you said, frowning. He immediately kissed your lips to make it disappear. "Why?"

"Just making sure," he said, rubbing your belly. The source of comfort from such a small gesture amazed him. "I think I just feel better knowing our baby is truly in my hands."

It was silly, but Bucky thought if he made the crib that it would be like he was holding your child as he or she slept. That no matter what, they would be safe and cared for. Surrounded by familiarity and warmth.

Your baby deserved that and more.

"I think that's a beautiful thing," you assured him, placing a hand over his. "You work so hard for us and I know our baby will one day appreciate that you built them something with your heart and hands."

His hands, like the rest of him, were massive and strong. A man his size was meant to destroy, which he did in battle and worse. He also proved that he was meant to create. His size never intimidated you. In fact, you once said that one of many things that made him special was how deceptively gentle he could be.

That the only ruin he would bring you with his touch would make you whole again.

In my hands, you'll always be loved.

"I'll always work hard for my family," he promised.

He hadn't told you yet, but he planned to build a rocking chair for the nursery, too. He wanted it to be a surprise. He could already picture the two of you sitting in it with a soft blanket to keep you warm.

The image made his heart swell.

"And if I have my way, we'll have one more. Jellybean could use a companion."

"Now you sound just like Steve. Both of you wanting to keep your best girls knocked up," you smiled, sliding your hands up his muscular arms to his shoulders. "You think you'll convince me?"

"I don't think. I know," he smirked, kissing you before you could argue.

As excited as Bucky was for the next part in your journey together, he was also afraid. He knew he'd be a good father, but not a perfect one. He'd make mistakes and stumble along the way. He wouldn't always have the answer. What he did know was that he was going to give his child unconditional love and care.

Starting with the crib built with his heart and hands.

Bucky is going to be an amazing dad, right? And how about Steve? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[vhstown]

miles away

— 1610!miles morales x gn!reader

summary: Long distance is hard — even more so when your boyfriend's mom is Rio Morales.

warnings: fluff, spanish that is hopefully right??? (pls feel free to correct if not)

word count: 2k

a/n: worst eboy known to man. another miles one-shot i thought of way too late at night lmao my boy miles is STRUGGLING somewhat edited

convention boy is online.

Miles was active: the cute boy you'd met at a Brooklyn science con last year and had been talking to for the past few months — your boyfriend? He might as well be, if it weren't for the absurd distance between you two. You almost missed the call icon with how fast you tapped it, buzzing with anticipation at the thought of speaking to him again; you hadn't talked properly in so long you almost thought he changed numbers.

Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing...

You stared at your own reflection, which was frowning back at you as the call rang for longer than usual. "Convention boy" (you'd definitely have to change that soon) was probably just busy, but your day had been infinitely boring, and you really wanted to talk to him. The both of you had chatted pretty much every day after you left Brooklyn, and despite the time difference, your calls went on for hours, making conversation about school, art, the science convention you were both forced to go to, how you almost got run over for the hundredth time — nothing and everything.

Miles probably knew more about you than your actual friends. You had jokes that nobody would be able to understand even if you tried explaining them, thousands pictures saved of each other, lots of random games you played together (that you always seemed to win somehow) and so many messages where you were flirting like you were in a middle school relationship; embarrassment was a foreign concept in your chat logs. The only thing you didn't have was... Miles himself.

He was in Brooklyn, probably the most exciting place right now. Maybe it was for the fact that Brooklyn had Spider-Man, or you were getting sick of living with your parents. Either way, you were glad you were getting out of here soon; your parents hadn't told you much, but you knew you were going to New York for school. That meant you'd be closer to Miles. Maybe you could even meet up — if Miles picked up, that is.

Beep, beep, beep!

The line went dead, and you were left staring at your own string of messages. They were read, but there was no response; he was ignoring you. Did he just... give up on you, or something? Was he no longer interested? Surely not... Should you try calling again?

He was offline now, and you flopped on your bed with a groan. It had been a whole week since you'd even texted — surely he'd let you know if something was up? It was late in New York right now, but that hadn't stopped him before. Maybe you'd try again tomorrow; he couldn't be available for you all the time.

That didn't stop you from being petty, though.

Missed voice call at 10:29PM

k Read 10:31PM

You gritted your teeth when you saw that it had been read, stopping yourself from typing another text as you rolled on your side, throwing your phone out of sight. Maybe you should ghost him — okay, you were definitely just being petty. He could still have a reason for being radio silent for so long that you just didn't know about.

The lack of his voice or even just a "hey" made you miss him, though, and the pillow you held just made your arms feel more empty than usual. You were being a little unreasonable, but you hadn't exactly had the best week. Maybe you should leave his contact name as it was, because right now it seemed like he didn't want to be anything more than some kid you met at a convention. And you thought he was supposed to be your boyfriend—

Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! You reached for your phone, a preview of your own face coming up on screen. "convention boy" — he was video calling you? That was weird; as much as you did video call, he was always reluctant to turn his camera on, and he never started them. He was always "on a run" or on low battery or something; maybe he wasn't today? You realised you'd been staring at your own face for too long, scrambling to fix yourself up a little and accept the call before you missed it.

Miles' face appeared on screen; he had his headphones on, brows drawn together and eyes fixed somewhere else for a moment, before he looked back at his phone. He gave you the tiniest wave and that wonky smile that always made your stomach flip.

"Hey," you muttered, hating the fact that you probably didn't sound as mad as you wanted to be. "What's up with you? You okay?"

Miles just nodded silently, giving you another smile that looked more like a grimace before glancing off to the side again. Weird.

"...Are you sure?" you asked again, raising an eyebrow at him. Whatever Miles was trying to convince you of was completely thrown out the window, his lips pressing together in debate before he mouthed something. You couldn't make it out.

"Uh, what?" You squinted at the screen, your brows drew together even more in confusion.

"I'm GROUNDED," he mouthed again, his own brows raising to emphasise what he was trying to say. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

"You're GROUNDED?" you mouthed back, trying to keep the teasing smile from spreading across your face.

It didn't help, Miles' eye twitching a little in embarrassment as he mouthed back "YES!"

"So you're like, grounded grounded?" you continued to mouth, making Miles narrow his eyes at you. "Like, actually grounded?"

He didn't seem to entertain your mockery, just crossing his arms at you and moving away on his chair. His phone appeared to be propped up on his desk, and you caught a glimpse of his textbooks in the corner.

You gave up, rolling your eyes. "Fine, fine, but you can't like, speak at all?"

He shook his head, before you heard his door creaking open. The camera immediately went black as he shoved his phone underneath the textbooks before you had a chance to say anything.

"Mijo, what are you still doing up?" You could recognise the voice as his mom's. Oh boy.

"Uh, just studyin', ma." You could tell he was lying by the way he was speaking, but you stayed silent despite his headphones, hoping his mother didn't catch on.

"You better be studying Español, then." Miles laughed awkwardly in response, but you couldn't tell if it was a joke or a threat. He'd only ever referred to you as a "friend" to his mom, so you turned off your camera just in case, hoping Miles had some God to pray to in the mean time.

"Yeah, uh, estoy estudiado—"

"Estudiando", she corrected, with rapid execution. You decided she was scarier in Spanish, and Miles seemed to as well, murmuring something in apology you couldn't catch.

You decided to look through your notifications while Miles was keeping his mom at bay to see that he actually had texted you back after you sent that very creative message.

sry im grounded

i dint mean 2 ingore u

dnt be mad pls :(

He must've resorted to calling you. At least your pettiness had worked.

"Estoy estudiando..." (I'm studying...) you heard Miles continue carefully. "And tired, so I'll go to bed soon."

"That light better be off, niño," (boy) she replied, and you heard the door faintly creak again. A few moments passed before you heard Miles' chair move and the door very quietly shutting all the way before he retrieved his phone and looked down at it from his lap. You had no idea what on Earth Miles had done to get grounded, but the way his mom spoke to him and the worried expression he was wearing right now didn't tell you anything good.

Miles looked back at his door for a second longer before picking up his phone, hesitantly preparing to say something. If it weren't for your own tension, you would've probably laughed at the way his face looked from that angle.

"Why's your camera off?" you heard him whisper, his worried expression still stuck in place.

"Do you really need to see my face?" You decided to tease anyway, despite his predicament, getting a sigh out of him.

"Ba—" He winced as he caught himself, eyes automatically trailing to his door again. Miles was lucky he couldn't see your amused grin. Baby? Babe? Hopefully not basta—

"Please?" he mouthed, almost looking hurt.

You turned your camera on so quickly it was almost embarrassing. You also prayed it was dark enough for him not to see the blush burning away at your cheeks; you just couldn't say no when he looked at you like that.

"Thank you," he nearly whispered. He let out another breath, shaking his head and smiling before mouthing something you couldn't make out.

"Huh?" you asked way too many times as he tried to mumble it a little louder. Both of you were too stubborn to end the call, so it was like playing charades, but with someone who really sucked at charades. He was pointing to his face, and then at you, and then trying to draw it out in the air.

"Just text me," you sighed, letting out a slight chuckle at his defeated expression.

you look cute

Your stomach flipped, cheeks tingling with warmth again as you stared at the text message for far too long, almost forgetting Miles was in the corner of your screen.

"...Thanks, you too," you mumbled out, hoping you didn't sound too weird over the call. "You sure you don't wanna just text...?"

na

wnt2 see ur face

n hear u speak

A part of you wanted to decline right now out of sheer self respect; you were so hot in the face by his... simple words that the darkness of your room definitely couldn't hide how flustered you were.

"Fine," you murmured, trying to keep your eyes on the screen as he watched you. "Can't you at least try to text properly, though?"

Miles frowned, and you could hear the gentle tap of his fingers on the screen as another text followed.

tryin 2 keep up w u gimme a break

The two of you shared a smile before you talked for a bit through this awkward system. It was good enough for now; at least Miles didn't have to watch his back so often.

ur cute

"You already said that..."

cutie

"Dude." Miles seemed to forget you could see him, sporting the biggest, stupidest smile on his face as he scrambled to keep texting you.

dont call me dude

my pride

thought we were passed that

past*

convention boy is typing...

hol on gank is txting me

"Gank...?"

romm mmate

You decided to let it be, watching Miles' cheeks puff with air as he switched over to text his "romm mmate". It was taking a little long and you didn't want to start missing him when he was right in front of you (albeit just on your screen) so you decided to talk anyway.

"Uh, there's something I wanted to tell you," you started, and Miles' eyes flicked upwards for a second, kind of like if you were actually sat opposite him.

"I'm moving states soon — for school." He raised an eyebrow, the tapping of his fingers slowing down a little. "New York. I don't know where exactly, but I should be getting an email soon? I was thinking maybe we could like... meet."

Miles stopped texting entirely, eyes wide as a grin spread across his face.

"After you get uh, un-grounded."

The smile faded just as fast. His eyes fell in defeat, lips twisting awkwardly as he got back to texting "Gank".

"I haven't checked my emails in a while actually, let me see..."

You scrolled through your email— well, it was a shared email (an email you often deleted a lot of school-related stuff from.) An email you'd missed ages ago caught your eye; you assumed it was from the school you were supposed to go to, the sender titled "Ms. Weber."

"We would like you welcome you with open arms to our academy..." The email bored you with its formalities and packing list and many many flourished attachments. You didn't read through it properly — most likely because you didn't want to face the fact that you might actually miss your home here.

What caught your attention, though, was the school name; it was in Brooklyn. Miles was in Brooklyn.

"Miles — the school's in Brooklyn, that's even better!" You couldn't hide your giddy smile, Miles' eyebrows raising in interest as so many thoughts swirled through your head. You could actually meet up again. Maybe you could even go on dates that weren't to do with science conventions. Maybe you could actually be a couple.

Bzzt! Miles' text appeared at the top of your screen.

what school is it?

"Uh..." You paused, unintentionally dramatically as you checked the name again. "Brooklyn Visions Academy."

"WHAT?!"

Miles' mouth went agape as you saw him roll back on his chair, bringing his face towards the camera to look at you almost hysterically. You were about to ask why he was so taken aback before—

"¡MILES! ¡¿CON QUIÉN ESTÁS HABLANDO TAN TARDE?!" (WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO THIS LATE?!)

Maybe your meet-up would have to wait a little longer.

🕸️🔭🎧

omg this was ... longer than expected anyways i could not get this idea out of my head haha i wrote it partly for myself and my friend chewy (who helped me w the summary ily i suck at em) and now its for u! hope u enjoyed (also if the spanish is weird pls correct i literally take spanish as a subject but i suck)

reblogs appreciated as always i get so happy when ppl reblog lol <3 catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

[inkyycapp]

How I Think Characters

Would Ask You Out

Adventure Time Edition

(Alt Au?)

TW; none that i know of. Fluff.

Feel free to leave a request. I do other fandoms as well. (Material list in the making.)

Finn

You're his friend, and eventually he views you in a new light. Be it during a fight, or relaxing in a feild of green(red), he feels his face grow warm. Finn remembers this fuzzy feeling.

He's nervous, of course. But calm, oddly enough.

He goes over what he feels; questioning how his view had changed. Once he saw your hand as something you use (against monsters, play music, or rule your subjects), now he sees it as something he wants to hold. Late night talks feel so much more. He wants to make you happy. Your smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you really laugh. Those awkward moments, those stupid moments, those joyous moments. It can't be anything else: It's love.

Finn has had bad experiences, yes, but I feel like instead of those experiences making him more anxious/nervous, he learned from them instead. He knows better what to do, and what not to do.

He'd try to be romantic, but would fail in such cute ways. Finn knows better than to take advice from Jake....

.....but, he ends up taking the advice. It spirals, and a monster throws the whole plan off course.

Once the beast is dealt with, Finn gets a bit upset his attempts at asking you out romantically were foiled by the sudden intrusion, but you both get a good laugh out of it.

He's happy you feel the same, and gives you a beautiful magic staff you both looted off the monster. (It's covered in flowers, vines, and leaves. The staff itself is a dark wood, tinted a color to match the flowers.)

Finn walks you home, holding your hand. He promises to take you out on a sandwhich date on a floating island to make up for the day. On the way, you both test out the magical staff, laughing about stories, and jokes. He's just glad to be there with you.

Finn hurries home, and tells Jake, BMO, and NEPTR. They have a big pasta dinner.

Fern

He's so nervous. Much more nervous than his counter part(s). Very anxious, and fidgety.

Fern has no relationship experiences, so when he feels his feels flowers bloom over his shoulders, and out his hair. Something's up. His face is warm. So very warm, and and he can't help but stare. Which he denies. Awkward silence falls, only breaking when he clears his throat, standing abruptly to: "grab some water."

Fern spends that time staring into the water, watching his reflection, hugging his knees close to his chest.

He feels very awkward. He doesn't have a good grip on these feelings, but it's certain he wants to keep looking at you. Fern wants to look at you any chance he gets, and he wants the attention in return.

Fern goes to Finn, of course. And, Jake overhears the conversation. He wants to help. Finn tries to warn Fern, but it's far too late, Jake is already handing Fern his loot suit.

It takes Fern a while to actually ask you out, failing multiple times. Eventually BMO catches on to what he's trying to do. BMO catches him staring, and sees it in his eyes and giggles.

Fern is embarrassed, but BMO gives advice to him, telling him you're his friend because he's him: he's Fern. BMO belives that Fern can be scared -- it's kind of scary -- but, it's a new experience. Times like these, so calm, so peaceful are rare. Very special. Who knows how long it'll last. It gives him some motivation, and he takes his chance.

He's covered in blooming flowers. Fern begins to laugh a bit, holding his face in his hand. These feelings are something he may not have a grip on, but he's glad to have you to guide him through it.

Fern wants to take you on an adventure to the far cliffs to see the wide landscapes covered in a lush green. To lay and watch the clouds would be a nice way to spend the first date. Adores warm, and vulnerable moments like these. It makes him feel so fuzzy, and soft.

Ice!Finn

Another nervous fellow. Acts like a regular kid in love.

His parents are a bit intrigued on his different behavior. They notice he'd be out more often, talking about you at the dinner table, and he's slightly warmer than his usual frosty self.

Finn becomes a bit more jealous of people, and is very irritated at himself for that. Often asking himself why. It leads him to spiral sometimes.

Talking to someone he dislikes, people flirting with you, touching you, or being rude to you will cause some ice spikes to form around his feet, and shoulders. The area gets a bit colder as well.

Finn will normally excuse himself, upset why he feels this way. So he asks Jake. Jake isn't very helpful. But, it's nice to talk out his feelings. Talking them out makes him realize he feels more for you than he believes.

Finn goes to his mom first. He's very nervous explaining it, but his mom's so happy he went to her. Seeing her son all grown up, crushing on his bestfriend.

His mom explains love, and how he may feel with such care. She's so gentle, making sure he understands what she's saying. Finn feels a tiny bit relieved to know these feelings are normal for a guy like him.

Finn's dad overhears and makes jokes on how he met his mom, and of course Finn cringes but laughs. He goes to bed, relieved.

The next day, Finn sends Jake right up to you. With a blue flush on his face, he points the the collar of his dog: it's a letter.

Opening the letter will make a miniature snow storm over the note, each snowflake somewhat resembling a heart. The note reads on his feelings for you, obviously, followed by a cheesy conclusion like an awkward teen asking a girl out to prom.

Fluffy snow flakes are falling around him, taking your hands in his cold ones. His face a stark contrast, so warm despite the cold blue.

Wants to take you on a peaceful nature walk, just you and him. Dropping you off home, hand in hand, he practically sprints home with Jake to tell his parents about how it went. They're very proud of him, and cook a big dinner. They make small jokes about having you over more often to eat dinner together.

Straight after dinner, he spends his time in the backyard, practicing his ice magic to show off for you. He draws shapes with frost, and makes little snow goobers that follow him around like baby ducks to give to you.

[e-spexially]

cowboy like me

pairing: billy the kid x lucy gray baird

summary: "sure would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances."

ib: these two edits by @lg.baird and @beatrixsfx on tiktok

note: this is purely self-indulgent, I saw these and felt SO angsty and inspired :(

The saloon was nicer than most that Billy had entered in the past. Smoke danced in the air and the room was dimly lit by the oil lamps placed on each table, giving the entire room a dreamy haze.

They even had live music. Not the kind where drunk men played the piano or gave some warbled rendition of an old folk tune, either. No, up on stage was a band. Two young women and two young men, playing instruments that appeared well cared for. The one singing looked to be the youngest of the bunch, blonde and fresh with her vocals.

It was a fast-paced melody and the already tipsy men and women of the saloon were on their feet in the small clearing between the tables that served as a dancefloor.

Billy walked up to the bar and bought himself a drink, trying to blend into the crowd. The music was a breath of fresh air from the constant drone of the outdoors he had been spending his time in lately. Being on the run was tiring and it was nice to finally sit in a real chair, surrounded by other people.

As he hunched over his drink, considering a game of poker, the song ended with a wave of applause, and the blonde girl spoke out to the crowd.

"Alright, y'all! For this next number, help me give a big, warm welcome to my cousin, Lucy Gray Baird!"

The blonde's energy was infectious and her request drew more applause from the crowd, even Billy. He supposed the group must have been well known, but he was out of the loop these days.

Then something unexpected happened. Onstage, walked one of the prettiest girls Billy had ever laid eyes on. Lucy Gray Baird was a dark-haired beauty, with a sweet smile and an air of confidence. His attention was hers without the girl even having to try. But then again, so was everyone else's. More applause rang out as she shot the crowd a smile, delicately cradling her shining, black guitar.

"Evenin', everyone!" She said to them in a melodic voice. "I hope y'all are enjoyin' the night so far. For this song, I'm gonna slow things down a bit and give everyone the chance to hold that special someone a little bit closer."

Billy felt the need to sit up straighter, to show that he was giving her performance the respect it deserved. And it truly did.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

As rough as a briar,

Like walking through fire

As Lucy Gray sang, he realized his father had been wrong before. The stars weren't a reflection of his own light, but hers. He'd spent countless hours staring at the night sky and he'd never met anyone that made him feel the way that view did. Not until tonight.

People were dancing, just as she had hoped. They held each other and swayed to the simple tune. She watched them proudly with a bright smile, as though her intention was merely to create the noise that seemed to move them, not be their sole focus. But he just couldn't help focusing on her, he couldn't look away. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd and Billy felt his heart skip a beat.

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary

It's why I need you

You're as pure as the driven snow

That's when they locked gazes with each other and the haze of the room matched the one he was feeling. Lucy Gray smiled a little wider when this happened and something inside him wondered if she knew what he was feeling. Did she? Or, better yet, did she feel it too?

The song continued and then ended, too quickly. She sang two more, their eyes meeting again and again. His drink was gone, the poker game long forgotten as well. Once her set reached its close, she immersed herself in the crowd with another young woman, the others onstage keeping the atmosphere going. Billy watched Lucy Gray being praised by many for her songs and smiled to himself.

She really deserved it. His leg bounced anxiously and the air felt electric, like something was fixing to happen. He knew what Jesse would say if he was here.

"Better make your move now, kid. 'Fore someone beats you to it."

Billy inhaled sharply, trying to give himself a boost of confidence. He suddenly felt thankful that he decided to wash before leaving the rooming house that night. Giving the bar a quick tap, he rose to his feet and made his way through the crowd to her.

She was in the middle of speaking to the women about her dress when he walked up, excusing himself and hoping she didn't find him rude for interrupting.

"Good evening." He held his hat against his chest. Lucy Gray stared up at him with a curious glimmer in her eye, catching sight of the pistol around his waist momentarily. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could buy you a drink?"

She looked pleasantly sheepish. Exchanging a quick word with the other women, she nodded.

"I don't see why not."

He breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for her to go first, setting his hat back atop his head. He didn't have much money left, but spending it on her felt like the right choice.

Purchasing two whiskeys, he handed her one and watched as she perched on the stool.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," she spoke, taking a sip.

"Right," said the man, wiping his hand on his pants before extending it, as if he were afraid to get her dirty. "I'm Billy."

Lucy Gray smiled and shook his hand. It sent a jolt right through him and he averted his eyes for a moment. She stared at him thoughtfully, resting the whiskey glass against her shoulder.

"Are you enjoyin' the show, Billy?"

"Oh yeah," he replied, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "I liked that first song of yours, the one about the snow."

She looked pleased by this and he could tell she liked speaking about her music.

"Really? I'm glad to hear it!" Sipping her whiskey, she had an excited, almost nostalgic look in her eye. "I wrote that one a few months back when we were still up north. It snowed all the time up there and it just got me to feelin' inspired."

Billy leaned against the bar, taking in the smokiness of her voice. He could listen to her talk forever.

"Up north? You travel a lot?"

Lucy Gray nodded.

"Us Covey travel wherever the fancy takes us," she said. "We spent a good while doin' shows to keep ourselves fed and moved around until we needed more money. Then this fella named Jones picked us up somewhere in Sacramento and said he'd help us get our very own tour through the lower United States."

Moving from state to state by choice was a luxury he couldn't fathom. Ever since he was a boy, moving had been about survival. Billy thought he'd like to live a life like Lucy Gray's, to see the world of his own accord and not because he was running from something. He finished off his whiskey.

"That sounds nice, just bein' free," he mused, mainly to himself. This earned a head tilt from her and her mouth turned up in a small smile.

"I figured cowboys were as free as they come." That made him laugh and he set the glass down.

"I'm no cowboy."

"Well, you sure look the part," joked Lucy Gray. She looked around the saloon at the crowd and then her eyes found the dancefloor. "Hey, how 'bout a dance?"

Billy looked over his shoulder at the patrons slow dancing, feeling a bit more bold on account of the drinks he'd had. He glanced back at her and held out his hand.

"I don't see why not."

She drank the last of her whiskey before letting him lead her out onto the floor. He pulled her a bit closer, his hand finding her waist and hers his shoulder. Something about her demanded to be seen, to be admired. He might not have been the smartest when it came to women, but he knew from the start that she had all the control. What's more, he wasn't even sure it was intentional, but he knew he liked it.

As they danced, she studied his face a bit more.

"You're that outlaw, aren't you?" Billy felt his face flush and looked around for a moment before she laughed. "Don't worry, I wouldn't say anythin'. Not before I heard your story, anyways."

"My story?"

"Sure, everyone's got one." He pondered this for a moment, giving her a shrug.

"S'not exactly the kind people like to hear," he admitted. "It's got lots of sad bits."

"Well, those kinds of stories make the best songs." Lucy Gray looked up at him through her eyelashes. He wondered what his life would sound like through her pen, if she'd be able to take something dark like that and make it beautiful.

Maybe he'd tell her another time. He hoped there would be another time.

"I'll tell it to you someday." It felt like a promise, mainly to himself, that he'd see her again.

"I hope you will." She seemed content to let it rest at that for now. "Those posters don't do you justice, y'know? You're much more handsome up close."

A soft blush appeared on his face and he laughed it off.

"I'm sorry you had to see those, they're not exactly a likeness."

"You're right," she said gently. "I expected someone much scarier, the way people talk about you."

Billy's heart sank a bit at that. He hoped she hadn't heard anything too bad and if it was the truth being passed around, he only hoped she wouldn't judge him for it.

"I hope you'll give me a chance to prove that m'not so scary."

"Don't worry, gorgeous, I don't scare easily." He chuckled and she leaned in a bit. "This is the part where you spin me."

"Yes ma'am," the man drawled, obliging by holding onto her fingertips and twirling her around. Lucy Gray moved gracefully and she gave off the scent of fresh linen with a hint of wildflowers. He imagined her traveling through a field of them somewhere, carrying her guitar in one hand and a suitcase of all her belongings in the other.

What did she take with her? Were there pictures, family heirlooms she held dear enough to carry on her travels? Billy thought back to his mother's gold ring that rested in his pack back in the room he was renting. Did Lucy Gray have anything that precious to her?

She giggled as she spun back into him, bringing that field of flowers right with her. He maneuvered her around into a smooth circle around him before wrapping an arm around her torso.

"You're not bad on the dancefloor for an outlaw!" She said.

"All that time on the run, you get good on your feet," he joked. He savored the laughter that left her chest. It felt genuine and warm, just like her.

The song ended and she went to hold his hands in her own, smiling up at him as the crowd began thinning, the blonde on stage announced that the band would be heading out for the night.

"Thank you for this, Billy," beamed Lucy Gray. "It's just been wonderful."

He nodded earnestly, hoping he had made an impression.

"No, thank you. I can't remember the last time I had a drink and a dance with a nice girl, especially one as pretty as you." Her eyes sparkled at that, almost like she didn't want it to end. He knew he didn't. "Could I walk you out?"

She agreed and they returned to the stage to retrieve Lucy Gray's guitar, along with the bottles of whiskey given by the owner for their work. Then they headed out behind the saloon with the rest of the band, the others buzzing in excitement about the energy of the audience.

"These Texans sure do like their dancing. And their bars!"

"I'll say, you see that man spinnin' his wife around? I thought they were both liable to topple over the way he was drinking!

They were walking in the direction of a small cabin that resided some yards away from the building, a lamp left on the dirt by the front step. It looked cozier than the rooming house for sure.

Billy stopped just as the band piled into the cabin, leaving the door open for Lucy Gray. He could hear the chatter continue from inside.

"Will I see you again? I'd sure like to hear another one of your songs."

"You might see me around. If you're on the run like you say you are, we'll cross paths again."

He hoped so. God, did he hope so.

"You have a lovely voice, my mother would have liked to hear you sing." Lucy Gray sensed the twinge of sadness in the tone and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"They're never far, the ones we love." She studied him for a moment before plucking the striped feather from her dark curls and holding it out to him. "Here, take this. Add some life into that hat of yours."

He huffed in amusement at the feather but took it and tucked it into the band of his old hat.

"How do I look?"

"Like a cowboy." Lucy Gray nodded approvingly. "I hope you could return it to me someday soon?"

"Oh, you bet."

"Good," she said. "You still owe me that story, William H. Bonney."

McCarty, Billy wanted to tell her. His name was McCarty.

"And then you still owe me a song," he replied lightly, deciding against it. Lucy Gray nodded, looking wistful.

"You got yourself a deal." She held her hand out to him and they stayed there for a moment, hands joined. Could he say goodbye? Did he even have a choice? Lucy Gray was free and he wasn't. Sure, he could have joined her on her travels, but no good came with moving alongside an outlaw.

No, none of that. For tonight, he'd let her go and pray that fate would bring them together again.

"Good night, Lucy Gray." He spoke first. She smiled up at him and gave his hand a single shake.

"Good night, Billy."

After that, he watched her walk into the cabin and shut the door, but not before giving him a final wink. Once she was out of sight, he let out a deep sigh. It felt like he'd just woken up from a dream, the good kind that you hope you have again.

Feeling his boldness leaving him and the night's activities taking their toll, he turned on his heel and started for the rooming house, humming Lucy Gray's song all the while.

[waitmyturtles]

Last Twilight, episode 12: final reflections

Wow. It took me all of this past weekend to process this finale, notwithstanding the usual life craziness that has dogged me lately.

Let me preface this whole thing by saying that I'm confused by what I watched. I'd say that, overall -- I actually quite liked this series, and I especially, absolutely ADORED JimmySea, Namtan, and Mark, and their acting. JimmySea kicked major ass, and I really hope they get another big and complicated show to chew on.

I also want to say that between episodes 11 and 12, I felt that I saw uncharacteristic editing clunkiness from Aof Noppharnach and his team that left a lot of necessary emotional and ethical processing on the cutting room floor. I think that's what's ultimately making me feel uneasy about the process of watching this, but -- funnily enough, I'm not nearly as "angry" about the ending as I was with other bad shows that fell apart in their last quarter recently. It was obvious that MhokDay were going to get together.

But I needed to walk a few more steps with them on their journey to that end.

Before I got my eyes on the finale, a few reactions on social media, from Tumblr to Twitter gave me the case of the jibbles. Namely: that the story of Last Twilight would have worked better if Day had stayed blind through the end.

I wasn't really understanding how that construction could work without walking through some sort of ethical minefield.

Now that I've seen the finale -- especially that infamous 4/4 segment -- I understand better what those arguments were saying.

Yet, I'm still dogged by a kind of ethical confusion here. And maybe that was one of the points of this finale, another one of Aof Noppharnach's perhaps now-famous-or-infamous emotionally inconclusive endings.

To me, there are two ethical potholes that this show stumbled on:

1) The ethics WITHIN the fictional piece itself for a character to not depict the process of considering the various fates he might face vis à vis a potentially reversible impairment, and

2) The ethics of a REAL audience ultimately wanting a different outcome for a fictional character to NOT have an impairment reversed.

TL;DR — I don’t think Last Twilight spent enough time having Day consider the permanence or impermanence of the various fates he faced, including permanent blindness. I don’t think the characters, and as such, the audience, spent enough time understanding that a corneal transplant was always going to be Day’s endgame.

Last Twilight was marketed as a show focused on disability, on a man going blind in a society that prioritizes the able-bodied, and how he would adjust to his disability, and of course (this being GMMTV), his falling in love. As fans, we were prepared to receive a whole show about a character with a disability, not as a side pairing, à la Heart and Li Ming in Moonlight Chicken.

It so happened that Day's visual impairment was corneal deterioration -- a condition that could lead to permanent blindness, and thus qualify him for a corneal transplant.

What I'm struggling with is the crux of the ethical dilemma that this show was ALWAYS going to have to deal with: that a corneal impairment of the kind that Day experienced, in the prime of his life, could very well be reversed with surgery, a surgery that has tremendous success rates.

As such -- as we got that clarification in drips throughout the series -- this show was actually not ONLY going to be about the newfound adjustment of a recently-impaired man to an ableist society. It was ALWAYS going to have this door of ANOTHER major change, the reversal of the impairment, just slightly cracked open. I'm not sure that I, as a viewer, was fully prepared for this, even as Night and Mae Mhon spoke about "eye donations" as givens in the middle of the series. I believe the show needed to be much louder, earlier, about the "hope" that Day could "go back" to "living a normal life," instead of framing the high majority of the show around his adjustments to his impairment.

As we went through Day's adjustment to life outside of his room, I believe we needed to hear, FROM DAY HIMSELF, that a corneal transplant was a conclusion that HE believed in, that HE wanted. A failure of this series was that we unfortunately only heard that from his family members, leaving us to only ASSUME that the conclusion of the reversal of his impairment was ALSO Day's intention.

For a story that was very much about an individual's developing agency and self-advocacy: I believe I needed to hear from Day himself that he was good and ready for the final surgery. I only assume that was the case, as I saw his own body and mind in the hospital. But I believe, for dramatic success, that I could have used a basic, "I'm ready," from him, to make segment 4/4 more complete and contextual, against the story of adjustment and resilience we had so far seen before then.

And what a story of adjustment and resilience we had gotten, as Day had established a full career for himself, without Mhok next to him, during one of the time jumps of episode 12.

For my sake, as I process what I watched this weekend, I want to come to grips with what I thought were the major themes of this show, and see if I can come to some sort of sensible conclusion about what happened here.

This show was focused on:

1) the romance between Day and Mhok, 2) Mhok's caretaking and companionship being the lever to help Day out of his room and back into the world from which he had retreated after the onset of his visual impairment, 3) Day slowly learning how to function again in a society that prioritizes the able-bodied vis à vis his visual impairment, 4) Day learning how to self-advocate for himself in the face of those who condescend to him and/or keep him trapped in compassion bias postures,

and more that I'm sure I'm missing, but those are the themes that resonated the most with me.

I think the general feeling on Tumblr is that, save for the romance, that themes 3 and 4 were contradicted out of existence in the face of the sudden flip to the surgery of segment 4/4.

I think not hearing from Day himself that he was ready and willing for the surgery was a lost moment. I don't believe Day was ever acting as if he would choose anything else OTHER than surgery throughout the series. BUT, AT THE SAME TIME: what we had watched prior to 4/4 was his story of adjustment.

My biggest ethical concern here, vis à vis the audience reactions that I've read, is that NO ONE -- in fiction or in real life -- owes me a story of heroism. If there is an individual who has been impaired since birth, or is dealing with a degenerative condition later in their life, and has the opportunity to address or reverse the condition, who am I to say that that individual SHOULD NOT address their condition?

For me, this is huge. I believe this is a huge ethical dilemma that Last Twilight ultimately does not face. I wish this series had been much more centered, earlier on, about the utter REALITY that Day could have his condition reversed by surgery, in words he'd say himself, rather than assumptions made for him, on behalf of his family, who.... I presume were established to be some sort of legal conservators for him, as Mhon continued to be the one to receive eye donation text messages.

(I concede that I don't know if this is a more common set-up for disabled individuals in Thailand, as I would assume in the States, that Day himself would have been the one to receive that message directly.)

For this show to have seemed emotionally and artistically complete: I needed to hear from Day himself that surgery was an endgame that he was banking his hopes on. I also needed to understand, much more statistically clearly vis à vis the show, of the absolute risks that Day faced towards having permanent blindness for the rest of his life. Because the show ALSO needed to focus on the establishment of the romance between Mhok and Day, we missed out on the show taking time to explain to us, the viewers, of the absolute risks that Day faced in any of these scenarios -- and thus, we would have had MUCH more context into the nuances of the resilience that Day needed to establish for himself as he re-adjusted to society, with his numerous fates lying before him.

I'm going to borrow the words of @hallowpen in their final review here, to say that this show at the end needed much more "breathing room." I think @hallowpen is so right in saying it like this, because these two factors that I just laid out, geez -- the first 7/8ths of the series being about Day's social adjustment against the utter suddenness of the successful surgery and his sudden jump back to what's been translated as his "normal life" -- just clash so tonally. (I do wonder if we're getting as nuanced a translation on "normal" as we could be.)

I think this is about the most confused final review of a show that I've written. There is an ethical heaviness to all of this that's weighing on me, that I think I still need time to comb through.

I also feel that I simply do not know enough, by way of my lack of cultural competency into how Thai society approaches issues of public and private health, if Day’s unseen choice to get the surgery would have been a given among majority Thai audiences, AND that majority Thai audiences would not have asked for the kind of internal debates that I think the show could have used.

I feel thrilled that Day can see Poomjai/Mee, after making that wish in episode 11.

But I think, if this show was about a journey for someone to learn how to successfully advocate for his own agency -- that, at the very end, I needed to see that agency exercised, by him, to get to the part of the reversal of the impairment that I assumed he wanted.

Again: Day doesn't owe me his story of heroism. If fiction doesn't want to give me that, from a character with a recent impairment, I don't have the right to ask for it.

But the missing bits of artistry to get me, the viewer, to only an assumption, has led me to surprising ethical places, that will leave me wondering about what happened in this series for a long time.

[unboundprompts]

Different Ways to Describe Green Eyes

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

He had eyes like the fields after a sweet summer rain.

Their eyes reminded her of the forests at night.

Her green eyes were like leaves with golden sunlight shining filtering through them.

Green eyes— usually a symbol of grace— had never held such a look of hatred.

She had eyes the same color as the bottle of poison tucked away safely in the inside pocket of her jacket.

He stared deep into her green eyes and saw forever reflected in them.

Their eyes were the same color as the moldy piece of bread he found under the couch a couple days ago.

She bit into the apple— the same color as her sour green eyes— and flashed him a wicked grin.

He stared at the green walls of his childhood bedroom, but it only made him think of [Name’s] eyes that always teased him.

Their eyes reeked of danger, the color of acid and a threat.

Her eyes were the color of the woods at twilight.

His green eyes kept a lifetime of secrets locked away behind them.

Their eyes reminded him of a cat’s: mischievous and quick to chase.

She had eyes like spring and the memory of a childhood summer.

His eyes matched the emerald ring he wore on his finger.

They had heard the saying “the grass is greener on the other side” their entire life, but after seeing her eyes? They finally thought it might have some truth to it.

Her eyes made him think of germs. It wasn’t the most colorful of metaphors, but he thought it went well with the way it made him feel. Sick.

His eyes were as green as the potions that lined the shelves in their glass bottles.

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[badnoahmens]

4am

Noah Sebastian x reader

A/N Do yourself a favour and watch this quick scene from the TV show ‘Dave’, it was the kind of thing I was going for, but just at a different time and place, and just less sad. Thanks!

4:07 am. The dim glow of the alarm clock illuminated the room just enough to make out silhouettes of the furniture. There was the low hum of the wind outside that was the soundtrack for this winter night. There was a chill in the air that made the thought of leaving the comfort of your bed seem almost impossible, but as you rolled to see the vacant spot next to you, you couldn’t help but wonder where Noah was.

Tentatively, you slip one foot, then another, from the cave of warmth you have created, and tip-toe lightly to the door that was slightly ajar. From around the corner you could see light, growing stronger the closer you walked down the hallway. As you turn the corner, you could hear a tune, being played repeatedly, over and over again. It would start, sometimes play for 10 or so seconds, before starting again. Each time it played there were slight changes to the pitch of a note, altered to best suit the melody being played.

A sigh escapes you as you know exactly what has happened. Once again, Noah, your boyfriend of 6 years, has allowed himself to be all-consumed by his music yet again, staying up until ungodly hours trying to perfect his craft. You step around the corner, seeing the profile of Noah, who looked like he was in a trance-state with eyes fixated on the screen, headphones adorned over his beanie with his hair poking out at the bottom. He was still dressed in the same clothes as the day before, a long-sleeve white t-shirt and a pair of black jogger pants, although now it looked like they were wearing him instead. He was slouched over, hands moving ever so slightly with the flick of the mouse or a stroke of the keyboard. Bags hung under his eyes, and his eyelids looked heavy. You could almost see the reflection of the screen and the colourful bars from Logic Pro X in his eyes, like he was hypnotised by it.

His hand raised and adjusted the headphones that were blocking out any sound other than his current project, long fingers grazing some of the buttons on the side and shifting them so they fit more comfortably. Without looking to his side, he reached over towards the door, closer towards you, as he hovered his hand in the air in search of what you assume was his guitar. You could see it, it’s long neck laying against the couch behind him. He still absentmindedly waved his hand trying to locate the guitar, but it also looked like he forgot what he was doing. His arm dropped with a slight thud to land on the desk next to him. When his arm retreated, he hung his head and rested it in one hand, the other slipping off the headphones and then joining to support his hidden face, now behind his palms, with elbows leaning on the desk and nudging the keyboard away from him.

You heard him huff, and decided you needed to step in, otherwise he would keep going until he dropped dead. With a very gentle step forward, you place a hand gently on his shoulder. He tilts his head up and you finally get to see his full face, and it was worse than you had thought. The poor man looked like the lights were out inside, but somehow he was just sleep-walking his way through this editing process. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks, and this album was always on his mind. It made you wonder how it wasn’t making him go crazy, but then again, with what you saw in front of you, maybe he wasn’t far off. When he looked into your eyes he almost looked guilty, like he felt bad for what he was doing. You give him a small smile and walk closer, this time both hands snake their way around his chest as you stand behind him. You rest your chin on his shoulder and lean into him, and he does the same back to you. It was so comforting the way that he responded to your touch. Your hands interlocked over his shirt, and one of his hands came up to intertwine with yours. Still no words had been spoken, but you knew that he needed you there for just a moment.

“How is it sounding?” you ask, and he strains his neck to the side to look at you with a puzzled look on his face. You guess he was expecting you to be upset, or even mad at him, but how could you ever.

“Uh, I think this track is nearly done. I switched up some of the melody so now it has a panpipe, and have a listen to this harp track I put in…” his fingers flicked over the mouse again, and the colourful bars zipped past on the screen right back to the start of the song. He tapped the space bar, and leant back in his chair. As the tune began to play, you slipped around and sat atop his lap, swinging legs over the side of his chair and curling up onto his chest.

One of his hands held your back, and the other rested on top of your knees, tapping along with an imaginary click-track that you are sure was playing non-stop in his own mind.

It was a new song, one you hadn’t heard yet. You thought you had heard them all by this point, but this one took you by surprise. It was slower, more drawn out, and it took its time to build up and work through the first verse.

“I haven’t heard this one before” you whisper, as though not to interrupt the song playing.

“I only made it today,” Noah responded, a little sheepishly. “I’m sorry”.

“Did you really just apologise? For doing something you love? And maybe staying up a little late because you want it to be perfect?” you look at him with an eyebrow raised, hands knotted behind his neck.

“I’ve got an idea” he says, reaching over and grasping a second pair of headphones. He delicately places them on your head, tucking your hair back so that the headphones sit snugly. He picks up his own headphones again while skipping back to the beginning of the song. It starts delicately and quietly, and before the melody begins Noah starts speaking into his microphone.

“What if we add a little adlib to the start?” he spoke, and you saw the little bars indicating it was recording on the screen jump up and down.

You lean forward and reply, “what kind of thing are you thinking of?” It was a little startling hearing your own voice reverberated through the microphones, and you could pick up just the most subtle hint of a pitch corrector to make your voice sound more fluid.

“I don’t even know,” he said through a smile. His eyes were drooping, half closed and you could tell he had an idea but his brain wouldn’t let him process it.

“What if we just talk?” you say, starting to speak in a sing-songy voice. Noah starts the song again, and starts a new recording.

“You know that it’s 4am…. and you are here with me…” he spoke, elongating some words to match the tempo of the beat.

“No place I’d raaaath-er be” you sing, “but what is this soooong about?”

“Why don’t you fiiiind out,” Noah sings back. Somehow even in his state, at this hour, and even with just talking, he manages to hit perfect notes.

“Is it a haaaappy one?” you ask, still trying your best to not sound too forced, but when you were comparing yourself to Noah’s vocals, there wasn’t any chance of sounding good.

“It’s aaaabout us” he responded, “so it’s the best- song- I- have- done.” Drawing out the last part of his sentence, timing it perfectly with when the tune began to change.

You lean back into Noah’s chest, the headphones pushed against his chest distorting his shirt just enough so the tattoos on his chest were a little more exposed. He rested his cheek on the top of your head, almost nudging the band of the headphones with his nose.

As the two of you listen to the rest of the song, and you really started listening to the lyrics, you couldn’t help but smile and feel a warmth inside you grow beyond measure. It was a story being told, your story. The one of how you met, how Noah was so nervous to talk to you he actually avoided it. He had told you about this long after you started dating, and how he kicks himself now because of it. The story continues, describing his perspective of when you started spending more time together. He talks about the thoughts in his head, the doubts he believed, thinking he wasn’t good enough for you. There was even mention of the time where he let those thoughts win and you had to convince him otherwise.

It was a raw and rare insight into his mind, and what a beautiful and scary place it must be. Knowing only little of what he had been through before you met, you knew his trauma from his past still haunted him today, and you did everything in your power to try and keep those ghosts away.

You were caught up in your own thoughts while still listening to the song, in a little bit of disbelief at the sudden vulnerability he was willing to share with the world.

“That’s beautiful” you comment, wiping a tear away that you hadn’t realised had formed.

He lets out a half laugh and glances back at the screen, scrolling along through the tracking of the song. “It’s been a lot of work, but it’s getting there. It took me a long time to try and find the right words. Album number 4 has to be my best work yet” he comments. You know more than anyone that he is his own harshest critic, and the pressure he puts on himself is more than anything else you have witnessed.

“Do you think maybe, now with something new added, stepping away from it for a little while will help? Come back to it with a fresh view?” you ask, being very careful to choose which words don't sound demanding.

“Maybe you’re right” he commented, making a few more final clicks to ensure that his project was saved, before switching off the screen. A new and comforting darkness fell in the room, and you slowly stood up from Noah’s lap. He reaches up, and wraps his decorated hands in yours. You tug a little, and he listens, standing up next to you. You start to walk out of the room, and he blindly follows you, feet falling a little clumsily and you think he is starting to fall asleep standing up. You guide him back to the bedroom, pull the covers off and give him a gentle shove. He falls back and chuckles as he does, head hitting the pillow for the first time in a while. It wouldn’t be rare for him to just not come to bed some nights, sleeping on the couch that was in his studio, and sometimes even at the very desk you found him at.

As you walk around to your side of the bed and climb in, you can just make out the outline of his face. Your finger delicately traces the sides of his cheeks, down and across his chin, back up and along the bridge of his nose, and then your fingers intertwine with his hair, smoothing back some of the locks and pushing his beanie off his head. He was humming, enjoying the touch. It didn’t take long at all, less than 30 seconds, and his facial expressions relaxed, mouth hanging slightly ajar, and breathing pattern falling into a steady rhythm.

He fell asleep so quickly it made you think that if you hadn’t gone to him, he would have been there all night, either awake or with his head on the desk. You loved that he loved his work, that he was so passionate about what he did, but it came as a curse too. No one knew how hard he worked, no one knew how much his own judgements ruled his life. So you did everything in your power to help him, be by his side, there when he needed you, even if he didn’t even know it himself.

[kennediffed]

Reflections

pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

description: you're casually playing the RE4 remake when you learn that the main character that you've been crushing on can talk directly to you (aka 4th wall breaking shenanigans)

word count: 548

contents/warnings: 4th wall break, gender neutral reader (no pronoun usage), ooc leon(?), shenanigans ensuing, barely edited/proofread

this is so fucking goofy im so sorry MASTERLIST

AO3 VERSION

REQUEST BOX

~

You couldnt help but stare at your screen while in a safe area at the character you've been controlling. The sight of him made you want to kick your feet and twirl your hair like a schoolgirl who had a crush.

You see, the remake to one of your favorite games had just come out and you intended on spending the whole weekend playing the game from start to finish. Well, that was the plan, until you started staring at the protagonist with heart eyes. The way the devs modeled him was… oh boy. The things you would do to him.

You couldnt help it though, Leon Kennedy was a looker, there was a reason why you, among many other people, simped heavily for him.

Man, why cant you be real? you thought silently to yourself, continuing to stare directly at him. Although you were alone, you couldnt help but feel like someone was watching you while you eyed him.

that was when something unexpected happened.

"y'know, im flattered, but are you gonna keep ogling me or are we gonna get a move on?" a familiar voice spoke in an annoyed tone.

that earned a jump from you. did… did leon just… address you? you looked at your screen to see Leon looking at you, a disappointed look present on his face and arms crossed.

"Yeah, you… y'know its rude to stare, right?"

You sat there in shock, he WAS talking to you. but HOW? this was supposed to be something that was one-sided. why was he talking to you?

"cat got your tongue?" he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"w…wait have you been able to see me this whole time?" you asked hesitantly. "and… hear what i say??"

He gave you a small smirk "yeah, you could say that"

"uhhh" you trailed off, scratching the back of your head gently "well this is embarrassing". Since you deducted that he could hear you, you realized that he most likely had heard your thirsty comments about him. and that was enough to fluster you. "sorry for the comments" you mumbled, almost embarrassed by your actions

you heard a soft chuckle in response "dont worry, im used to it by now…" he replied "but i bet youre confused right about now, am i right?"

you sat up in your chair, putting down your controller before making eye contact with him once more. You had so many questions but you werent even sure if you were to get any answers to them. you started out with a simple one; "so… how long have you been able to hear what ive been saying?"

"since you started playing the other day, i'd say" he responded flatly.

"gotcha, gotcha…" you responded. "guess i gotta watch what i saw now since i know you can hear me now…" you twiddled your thumbs in pure embarrassment.

"hey, like i said, its all good," he reassured "im kinda flattered that people see me like that"

you picked up your controller again, ready to move on with the game "i think im gonna keep playing now" you mumbled "do you just… emulate what im doing with my controller or… how does this work?"

"something like that… lead the way" you heard him say in response.

[juniperskye]

I Almost do

Sneak Peek: Song Fic using “I Almost Do” by Taylor Swift.  Aaron and you had broken up some time ago but, after months alone, you’re beginning to wonder if that was a mistake. There's a flashback as well as thoughts and feelings over your relationship with Aaron, as you reflect on the way things were.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Angst

Word count: 2129

Warnings: No use of y/n, Implied age gap, mention of food and eating, mention of your past relationship, mention of an unhealthy relationship, brief mention of Haley, no mention of Jack, mention of canon typical case work, reader struggles emotionally throughout the fic. Let me know if I missed any others.

Not edited - please be kind.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

1:00 am, it was one in the morning, and you couldn’t sleep. You thought about what you used to do when you couldn’t sleep and that had you reaching for your phone. Scrolling through your texts, your thumb ghosted over his name. The last text having been from him, a simple “I miss you”. That was 2 weeks ago.

Aaron and you had broken things off about five months ago now. This had been the longest five months of your life. The breakup had kind of been mutual, you both had just come to the realization that things weren’t working anymore. You sat there thinking about that night:

**You were sitting in your bed, movie long forgotten, checking your phone for the hundredth time. Still nothing. No texts or calls to inform you of Aaron’s return. A tear had made its way down your cheek and dripped off your jaw onto the screen of your phone. When did you even start crying? Why were you crying? Things had been like this for the last two months; Aaron would get called away on a case and leave while you were sat at home to continue on with work like everything is normal. And while that may seem like it would be your normal, things had shifted two months ago. Aaron used to call, text and even facetime you when he could while on a case, but those things started to dwindle down to nothing. Which brings you back to tonight, it had been six days since you had heard from Aaron, he could be dead for all you know. But you do know thanks to Penelope, she had a habit of texting the respective partners to inform them of the teams’ safe arrivals and returns. You decided that enough was enough, you needed to go and talk to him – it couldn’t wait any longer.

 Aaron and you didn’t even argue, there was no yelling, no accusations, no throwing of things, nothing. The two of you spoke about how your communication had disintegrated and you rarely saw one another. Aaron explained that it was his job and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do, he apologized for the lack of texts but clarified that his job was very important and that it was his priority when he was away. How could you be mad at that, he was right, his job was very important. Which is exactly what you told him. You let him know that you understood the importance of his job but that you were having a hard time being with someone who wasn’t present. There was a silence and a knowing look before you both stood, exchanged a hug and a final kiss and nodded at one another. As you went to leave, you turned around and told Aaron that you would always love him and that you were sorry that you couldn’t handle his job. To which he shook his head and replied that he loved you too and he was sorry that his job was as time-consuming as it was. He walked over and sat in his favorite chair, the one that you had dragged over by the window on a rainy day to read in, the one that he never moved back, and that’s when you left.**

I bet this time of night you're still up I bet you're tired from a long hard week I bet you’re sittin’ in your chair by the window Looking out at the city and I bet Sometimes you wonder about me

Thinking about your breakup had you wondering about Aaron. Was he awake right now? Had he just gotten back from a case? Had he moved the chair back, or was it still by the window? Was he thinking about you? You locked your phone and tossed it on your bed, heading into the kitchen to make some tea. You stood there in a trance still battling with yourself on if you should just give up and call him. A quiet “ding” had you snapping out of your thoughts and racing to your room. Had he felt it too? Was he thinking about you?

The “ding” had that you had desperately hoped was Aaron reaching back out ended up being a notification from Gopuff, letting you know they had some late-night deals on ben and jerry’s ice cream. Your heart sunk, maybe you should just call him. You scrolled through your contacts and stopped at his name, you shook your head at yourself, it wasn’t a good idea. But how easy would it be to just click his name and call him, tell him how much you missed him and that it has been so incredibly hard to ignore his messages – but at the time you had thought it was the right thing to do. You wanted to tell him that you still loved him and that you wanted to be with him. You were going out of your mind trying to navigate these thoughts on your own. You needed to talk to him…

And I just want to tell you It takes everything in me Not to call you And I wish I could run to you And I hope you know that Every time I don't, I almost do I almost do

It took everything in you, but ultimately you decided not to call him. You continued scrolling through your contacts and clicked Penelope’s name, she and you had remained friends despite your breakup with Aaron, she had been your shoulder to cry on when you questioned whether or not you had made the right choice. She remained neutral and supported you.

She answered on the third ring, you apologized for waking her up but quickly explained that you needed her. Penelope listened to you as you explained how you had been feeling. That you had wanted so badly to call Aaron and try again. Penelope had expressed a little bit of shock at your confession. She explained to you that there had been a rumor amongst the team that Aaron was convinced that you were officially done with him.

You were quick to dispel this and went on a long rant about how he had reached out and you couldn’t bring yourself to reply because if he wasn’t 100% in then you’d be crushed all over again and that wasn’t a risk you could take given the current state of your heart. You had asked Penelope to elaborate, and she had simply explained that JJ may have overheard Aaron talking to Dave about having texted you and not hearing back, so he figured you were done with him. This only broke your heart more. You had been in hysterics, telling Penelope that you had been a mess over all this for the last month or so. You had thought you had moved on, but there was a part of you that was hung up on Aaron.

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you Cause each time you reach out, there's no reply I bet it never, ever occurred to you That I can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye

Getting off the phone with Penelope left you shocked; how could he think that you had moved on? You had done nothing but put all of your energy into every other aspect of your life to try and keep your mind off of the Aaron sized hole in your heart. Maybe ending things had been a mistake, maybe the two of you just needed to put more effort into your communication and maybe you were simply being too codependent, needing him around all the time.

You knew what you had signed up for when getting into a relationship with him. You knew that his work had been the downfall of him and his ex-wife, you had told him that you would be different, that his work wouldn’t drive you away. You had broken that promise…his work had driven you away as well. But was it his job? Was it the fact that he had stopped putting in any effort to talk to you while away? Was it that even when he was here, he wasn’t really present? You were overanalyzing every aspect of your relationship because you needed to pinpoint where it all went wrong. What you really needed was to sleep and sort this all out once you had rested and had time to process all these emotions running through your brain.

Oh, we made quite a mess, babe It's probably better off this way And I confess, baby In my dreams you're touching my face And asking me if I’d want to try again with you And I almost do

Your alarm had you jolting awake, disappointment immediately settling in your gut. It hadn’t been real, Aaron hadn’t been there reaching for you, his hand gently resting on your jaw, looking into your eyes, telling you that it had all been a mistake. He said he wanted to try again. Only he hadn’t said that, your dream version of him had said that. You thought that rest was going to give your mind a chance to clear up, only now you were more confused than before. Your subconscious brain had brought you back to Aaron, but you still weren’t sure if that was a wise decision. You had the past five months to be on your own and process these feelings and truly become yourself again, would it benefit you to turn back and try again? You got yourself ready to go to work and figured you could come back to these thoughts later.

It was late when you were finally heading home after work. You were exhausted both emotionally and physically. You were driving mindlessly, deciding that it would be good to stop and get something to eat. You hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of food on your break, but now your stomach was growling, and you couldn’t neglect it any longer. Driving through the closest place, you thought about all the times Aaron would come home late with food for you both, knowing that you’d have forgotten to eat, too busy with work and then too tired to cook once you got home. You weren’t sure what to do really, your mind and heart were working against each other and the friends you had spoken to had all said the same thing “you need to do what is best for you”. Things with Aaron had been so amazing in the beginning, and you tried to pinpoint where things went wrong but you couldn’t. At some point it just stopped being amazing. You thought of him again, wondering if he had been thinking about you since that last text.

I bet this time of night you're still up I bet you're tired from a long hard week I bet you're sittin’ in your chair by the window Looking out at the city and I hope Sometimes you wonder about me

Aaron had been driving home, it seemed like he had hit every single red light, his typical 13-minute drive becoming nearly 25 minutes. He was almost home when he hit yet another red light, he huffed out a sigh and looked down to check the time – 10:47 p.m. The team had just returned from a case, and he couldn’t wait to go to sleep. He glanced around and had to do a double take at the vehicle to his left. There you were, you were eating French fries and singing to whatever song was playing through your stereo. He sat there, willing you to look his way, even for just a moment. He thought that maybe if you saw him then it would spark something in you to return his messages, maybe you could meet up for coffee and agree that this breakup was a huge mistake and that you could try again. Only, you didn’t look his way. The light turned and so did you, heading left down the main road the led to your place. The car behind him honked signaling him to go. He made the rest of the drive home in a haze – clouded by images of you. He picked up his phone and typed out a short message…

Aaron: I can’t stop thinking about you.

Aaron was ready to surrender all hope and go to bed when the three little dots appeared. He was anxious to see what you’d reply, but glad that you’d actually return his message this time around. He was quick to check his phone when it alerted him to a new message. A small smile broke out on his face when he read your reply…

Should I write a part 2?

[kierancaz]

Soo I saw that you were looking for some writing inspiration/requests and I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a Thorin x Reader fic where Reader is part of the company and both of them really admire each other but are too afraid to admit it at first and before they confess their feelings there's some sort of miscommunication?

This just came to my mind and I hope it could inspire you a little :)

hey !! thanks so much for requesting something !! I tired my best but I have not written for Thorin before so sorry if he's a little ooc haha. Also sorry this took so damn long I kept starting and stopping and also screwed up my sleep schedule and then 3 days in a row kept getting stomach aches and just couldn’t write more than three lines T_T. If it feels inconsistent or confusing I’m sorry I got lost in the sauce and COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT I WAS DOING but I hope you enjoy anyway :)

warnings : none details : reader is human, marriage plot that isn’t super important besides like ^^ the request

pre-post edit: I just went back and read the request again and this might not actually be what you asked for so uh, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna post this anyway bc well it’s written but if you don’t like it lmk and I will try again :)

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

It was safe to stay that Thorin was not the happiest camper when you joined the company, but he couldn't deny that you intrigued him a bit. Only a little though, you must understand.

You had joined the company a fair bit later, when they were stopped by the tolls. You had arrived just before Gandalf and saw the group tied up. You were going to ignore them and just carry on your way, after all it wasn't any of your business. But watching the little hobbit try and stall for time while none of the dwarves caught on was amusing enough for you to lend your aid. You had a talent for sneaking around, you made no noise when you walked, had no scent you left behind, and with little effort could blend into any environment.

You crept up onto the rock behind where the group of dwarves was tied and dug around in your bag until you pulled out a mirror. The sun was coming up and just peaking over the rock that the trolls had been staying behind. Laying down flat you brought the mirror in front of yourself and moved it until it caught the sunlight and began to reflect it. You bounce it around for a moment, attempting to get a good angle. Finally, you hit the troll standing farthest away right in the face, there was a small noise it made but it was cut off by it's mouth turning to stone. Quickly its head and shoulders and chest also turned to stone.

"Huh, you say something?" The one troll that had been talking to the hobbit said as he turned around along with the other one that was standing over by the fire. They both gasped and the one that had been talking to the hobbit rounded on the little guy again, "what did you little ferret do?!"

"Ferret?" The hobbit stuttered for a moment, doing his best to hop away but fell on his butt. "N-Nothing, I- we didn't do anything."

"Why you little-" The troll made to grab the hobbit but you quickly adjusted your mirror and light been to hit the troll on the side of the head. It started to turn to stone and in an attempt to stop it the troll reached up to block the light but only managed to turn his hand to stone. The other troll shrieked in terror.

"The dawn will take you all!" Cried someone from atop the bolder with a booming voice. A second later he slammed his staff down and the bolder cracked in two, letting the sunlight pour through. All the trolls turned quickly to stone and the dwarves set quickly to setting themselves free. You slid back down the bolder and pocketed your mirror. For some reason, you didn't immediately leave.

"I think we owe someone our thanks." Said a older white haired dwarf as he walked up to you. Gandalf followed him.

"Y/n, fancy running into you here, though I can't say I'm upset." The old wizard smiled at you. You smiled back at him.

"Good to see you too, Gandalf." You turned and offered a bow to the old dwarf and "the name's Y/n, at your service."

The old dwarf smiled, he seemed very pleased with your politeness, and bowed back, "Balin, at yours."

"Is this the company you mentioned Gandalf?" You asked turning back to your old friend.

"What do you know of this company?" Came a rumbling deep voice from your left. You hadn't realized that someone else had joined you. His arms were crossed and judging by the slight crease in his brows he was not very happy.

"Ah- well," you cleared your throat and looked to Gandalf for help but he offered none. "You must be Thorin," you bowed the same as you did for Balin. "I know of your journey, Gandalf told me." Yes, blame the old wizard, that's fine.

Thorin turned to Gandalf with a glare, silently demanding an explanation from him. Gandalf cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet slightly, "I first asked Y/n to be our burglar, however she refused me."

"I had family business to attend to at the time." You said and Thorin turned his glare onto you, you stiffened slightly and suddenly wished you didn't say anything at all.

"What are you doing here now?" Thorin asked.

"Well... I was looking for you guys. I figured if I followed your road I'd come across you eventually."

"Why?" Thorin was not looking very pleased. You felt small under his stare and began to fiddle with your hands.

"I was hoping that, well, you may have room for another walker in your company?" Your expression changed into something unsure as you shrugged your shoulders. All Thorin did was stare and you glanced at Gandalf for help.

"She can be of use Thorin, she's very quiet this one, great for sneaking around." Gandalf nodded his staff towards you.

"She also did just save our skins." Added Balin and you were very grateful he had not walked off.

Thorin thought for a moment, but it felt like en eternity. He eyed you up and down before turning away and beginning to walk off. "Fine. But don't slow us down. If you do you'll get left behind."

You've been traveling with the company since then. So far you've made very good friends with everyone but particularly Fili, Kili, Balin and Bilbo. Over time you've also begun to greatly admire the leader of this company, Thorin.

You couldn't deny that you thought he was attractive, you had thought that from the moment you met him. But it was more than just looks you liked about him, you admired how much he cared for his people, his sense of duty to bring them back to their home in Erebor. He carries such a huge burden all on his own and is able to do it with grace and dignity, you understood a little of what that meant, though on a much smaller scale. He was brave and even though he was a king he was always first to throw himself into a fight to protect those around him. And even though he seemed cold on the surface it's very obvious that he cares for all his companions and would do whatever it took to make sure they were safe.

"Watcha lookin' at?" You jumped, Kili had his face right next to yours leaning over your shoulder. He laughed and sat on the rock next to you with his back facing the fire, you smack his arm.

"How long were you there?" You grumbled.

"Oh I don't know, long enough to notice you staring dreamily off at my uncle." He clasped his hands together out in front of him and bat his eyelashes at you in a teasing manner before bursting out laughing like someone told the most hysterical joke known to man.

"I was not! I was just thinking and I zoned out..."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say." Kili said once he stopped laughing. "You know you're so obvious right? Everyone sees it."

"Sees what?" You asked with a raised eyebrow and Kili rolled his eyes.

"That you're in love with him!" Kili hit you on the shoulder. "I think it's a good thing personally, Thorin needs someone like you. Someone fun who can lighten his mood, he's always so stoic these days, believe it or not he used to be fun."

"I'm not in love with him." You said and put your chin in your hands, your mood had soured and Kili didn't understand why. "I'm due to be married."

Oh. Oh. Thorin stopped listening.

He had realized you're staring a while ago. He thought, or maybe hoped, that you where staring at him, but it seems you really where just zoned out and didn't realize you where looking in his direction. He started paying attention more when Kili wandered over and tuned in when the two of you started talking. But now he didn't want to listen, you were probably going to go on talking about whoever it is that you're going to be married to and he didn't want to hear it.

"You ok there laddie?" Balin asked appear at his side.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" And it came out a little more snappy than he would've liked.

"No particular reason, just looked like you were staring off into space. But by your tone it sounds like something is on your mind?" Thorin thought for a moment before deciding he shook his head.

"I'm going for a walk." Was what he settled on and he got up and left.

"You what?!" Kili said in shock. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said. Once I go back home I am to be wed."

"You don't sound very happy about it..."

"I'm not." You said. "I don't want to marry him."

"Then why are you?" Kili sounded almost mad. You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

"Because I have to Kili. I'm the oldest in my family and with our dad dead I have to be the one to bring in money somehow. There aren't many jobs for women where I am and this guy has enough money to keep my family off the streets and well fed. The reason I decided to seek out this company and join the adventure is because this is the last one I'll be able to go on..." Kili was silent.

Suddenly he shot up on his feet and rounded the rock to stand in front of you. "Thorin is a king. We are going to reclaim our home that is filled with mountains of gold. Tell Thorin you love him and then you can be happy and save your family! It's as simple as that!"

"Thorin is a king. It's not as simple as that."

Kili was making that face he does when he's confused and upset. Eyebrows creased together, pouting, and over all looking like a sad puppy dog. "Get up," he said and tugged roughly on your arm to pull you to your feet.

"What are you doing?!" You half shouted at him as you tried to pry yourself free. "Let me go you lunatic!"

"I'm looking for my uncle." He said and you froze for a second before beginning to fight him again. "He deserves to be happy and so do you, all it takes is for you to admit your feelings to him."

"How do you know that's all it takes?" You snapped and stopped struggling for a moment. "How do you know he thinks of me in the same way I think of him?"

You were every serious, Kili however was not and was looking at you like you had just said the stupidest thing he had ever heard. He sighed exasperatedly, your face crumpled in confusion. "Where is he? Do you see, Thorin?"

You took a look around the fire, "um, no, I don't."

Thorin was walking through the woods, he could still see the campfire and hear the voices of everyone so he wasn't far if anything went wrong, but he was far enough that he couldn't properly see any of the individual figures. You had a fiancé? You were going to be married. Thorin didn't know how to describe how he was feeling in this moment. Upset? Mad? Disappointed? Perhaps blindsided was the word, but how could just being blindsided by this information be enough to make him feel this bad. Why did he even care so much?

Well actually he knew why he cared so much. It probably had something to do with that intense warmth that spread throughout him whenever he looked at you. That tightening in his chest whenever you smiled, even if it wasn't at him.

He had noticed a while back the way he was beginning to think of you, but he shoved it down. Hid it away in fear that it would start to interfere with this quest. He needed to make a conscious effort to treat you the same as everyone else. But he still always caught himself wondering if you were tired and needed to rest, if you were warm at night, if you had enough to eat or drink. After a battle or after running away from orcs he always made it a point to check on you personally and he couldn't relax until he did so.

When you first met he thought you were attractive. Just a passing acknowledgement that, for a human, you were nice to look at. But over time, after seeing the way you would blend with the others in conversation, how even though you were the best fighter you still valued the others safety and were willing to put yourself at risk, how much Fili and Kili liked you. You were so kind and unassuming and you always offered to help.

One thing that stood out to Thorin, and that he especially admired about you, was that you stood up to him. It might sound weird, but he liked that you questioned him, and when you thought he was wrong you pointed it out. It didn't happen often, but when you did say he was wrong about something you were usually right. You argued with him when no one else did and somehow he thought that was very attractive of you.

He let out a long sigh and rubbed his temples, all of this thinking was useless. And also making him feel worse, like the hole in his chest was growing. The laughing from around the fire tuned him fully back into his surroundings and with one last look around (so he could at least say he was checking the parameter) he started to head back to camp. As he exited the trees and came back into the little clearing he heard the sound of his nephew.

"Aha! There he is!" Looking to his left Thorin saw Kili and he was pulling you with him. Well, not so much pulling as he was dragging, you were tripping over your own feet with every step and looked about ready to fall.

Kili then yanked you forward, practically throwing you into Thorin with a grin on his face that Thorin just knew meant that Kili knew something he didn't. Thorin reached out and caught you before you could face plant. "Kili, what's going on?" You scoffed as you stood up straighter and brushed yourself off, you had a very sour look on your face that just made Thorin more confused and slightly concerned.

"Y/n has something to talk to you about." He said and winked before running off to go whisper about something with his brother. There was a long stretch of silence and it was very quickly becoming awkward.

Thorin cleared his throat, "there's something you wanted to talk to me about?"

You jumped slightly, Thorin was standing there, hands clasped behind his back and face as un-telling as ever. You chuckled, "oh, uh, it's nothing really. Not that important or anything, you know Kili this is just one of his- uh- things..."

Thorin just grunted in response and turned away. You probably could've used this opportunity to run away but for some reason you didn't. There was another long silence, the two of you just standing next to each other and looking at the rest of the company sitting around the fire. At some point you saw Gandalf look over at you two and when he looked away you could've sworn there was a knowing smile on his face.

"I hear you're getting married once you return home after the journey." Thorin said suddenly.

"What?" You said whirling to face him, "how do you know about that?"

"I over heard you and Kili talking about it." He answered simply and without looking at you. You creased your brows before turning back to look at the company and the fire. Thorin glanced at you, "whoever he is, he's a lucky man."

"And I an unlucky woman." You said with a huff. "I don't want to marry him."

"Oh? Why not?" Thorin asked and turned to you.

"Why? Well for one he is the most arrogant self righteous man I have ever met. He thinks he's the gods gift to man and that everyone he interacts with owes him something. The only reason I even agreed to this arrangement with him is because if I don't my family will lose everything. I much rather marry-- someone else."

After your rant Thorin was feeling significantly lighter. He caught your stutter at the end and the side of his mouth corked up. "Y/n, what was it Kili wanted you to tell me?"

You turned to look at him, eyes wide, but were comforted by the smile on his face. "Well," you said looking up and away to avoid eye contact and clasping your hands in front of you. "Kili wants me to tell you that I'm in love with you. And I am, in love with you I mean."

Thorin chuckled and you peaked back at him, he had a soft smile on his face. "Maybe you're not as unlucky as you thought armâlimê.”

You opened your mouth like you were going to say something, but then what he said seemed to register. You paused and then looked over at him, “what did you just call me?”

He smiled at you softly and took your hand and looked down at it as he spoke, “we can figure out what to do about your family’s situation after the quest, I trust it won’t be to hard to find a solution then.”

Silently your hand tightened around his, touched by what he had said. “And just for the record,” he added looking up into your eyes, “I love you too.”

From a little ways away, over by the fire, you could hear whispered cheers and groans, and the clink of coins being exchanged. You looked over and Kili grinned back, shooting you a thumbs up and you couldn’t help but laugh feelings as light as air and happier than you ever have before.