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guilty-pleasures21 · 1 day

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hellO IT IS I! First off I'd like to start by saying hi! I love your writings; you are my favorite long story writer, and I want to STEAL your creative abilities. Reading one of your series rn actually :D

Just wanted to say that before I tell you: if you aren't taking requests or something in this makes you uncomfortable to just discard. OKAY NOW I HAVE AN IDEA

It's another Miguel fic where reader is also spidey. She's actually one of the more techy ones! Imagine engineer from tf2 but not necessarily Texan and can make things so advanced they nearly trump Miguel's devices, plus she has her own office/shop in the society where she makes stuff for other spideys. Reader can make almost anything with enough time and materials. The funky part is: she's really clumsy. Not like "oh no I dropped this stack of papers" clumsy. I mean ENGINEER CLUMSY. She'll hit her head on things, fall, get hit real bad in battle, eat a not-fully-cooked chicken sandwich, and every time she gets back up like it was nothing because she has high constitution. I'm talking slung across a room in battle, Miguel is screaming her name in concern, and she just. Gets up. And brushes dust off her spidey suit. Or she'll be up somewhere, fall from really high, die for a sec, then get up like nothing happened and go on normally.

Thank you for hearing me, I bow my head to you. Apologies if this was too long. Respect to your efforts, and have a good day/night!

AHHHHH!!! I don't know if you'd believe it, but this is my first Miguel request 🤩!! I don't get a lot of requests, so I'm really happy to take them! It gives me a chance to practise my creative writing skills and also a boost whenever I have writer's block (which happens A LOT as you can probably tell by how up and down my posting is 😅).

Thank you for the compliments! I always get a little worried my writings are too long sometimes, but it's nice to know that people enjoy them!

Okay, so I'm not familiar with TF2, but I did a quick search and I hope I've gotten the general vibe of what you were imagining 🥺!

The engineer

ATSV Miguel × clumsy techie fem!reader

Warnings: None.

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She leaned over Miguel’s arm to sneak a peek at whatever he’d been working on beside her. “You know, if you re-wired this connection here and took these ones out completely, you could increase the charge while using less power.”

He turned to her, an incredulous look on his face. But she just smiled.

“Just try it,” she suggested calmly. “You can always change it back if it doesn’t work.”

“Hmm.” She did have a point; he didn’t have anything to lose by giving it a go. He did as she said, taking out a few of the wires completely, then pulled the trigger on the taser. The end lit up with a spark stronger than it had ever done before and his eyes widened, impressed. “Wow. Good job, arañita.”

She rolled her eyes, but kept the amused expression on her face.

“I’m not your mentee, Miguel.” She turned to face him, then gestured between the both of them. “We’re on the same level. Just say ‘thanks’. Don’t talk down to me like that.”

She shrugged before returning her attention to her own gadget and Miguel raised his eyebrows: he’d only had people respond to him with anger, meeting him head to head and chastising him for what they perceived as his condescending tone. But she just corrected him like he simply hadn’t known any better. He turned back to his desk, suddenly keenly aware of her warm presence beside him, and the two settled back into their usual comfortable silence.

He walked into the cafeteria, unable to ignore his rumbling stomach any longer. But the lunch rush should have been over, so the area shouldn’t have been too crowded by then. His gaze landed on X, seated at a table with Ben, Jess and Peter, and his heart fluttered unexpectedly at the smile on her face. He pushed it down, not wanting to look into it, and walked over to the group. “What are we talking about?”

She shifted over on her bench, giving Miguel enough space to squeeze in beside her, and her stomach flipped when she caught his now-familiar woodsy scent.

“X somehow ate a raw chicken sandwich yesterday and now she says she’s fine!” Ben ousted her immediately.

“It was undercooked!” X insisted. But her correction did nothing to ease the thoughts of salmonella that flooded Miguel’s mind.

“¡Arañita! You can’t do that! Why didn’t you just come here?!”

X paused, caught off guard by the rare concern on his chiselled features.

“Oh. I was at work! But then I got to go home early.” She gave him a playful nudge, flashing him a conspiratorial smile, and Miguel felt his heart speed up again.

“¡Arañita!” he scolded her, trying to maintain his hard expression. But she just continued to fix him with that adorable smile and all he found himself able to do was hang his head and sigh. “What are you having for dinner?”

She twisted in her seat, swinging her leg over the bench to straddle it and face him fully. Miguel ignored the curious glances he noticed the others shooting them out of the corner of his eye and instead focused his attention on X. “Oh, I have some leftover pizza from … two nights ago? I think? So-”

“You are not eating leftover pizza, X,” he warned her, folding his arms across his chest and scrunching his brows together in a serious expression. X felt her stomach tighten at the way his muscles pressed against his suit, then she glanced away, embarrassed.

“Um, but …” What were they talking about again? Oh, right! Pizza! She lifted her gaze back to his. “But they’re serving cheeseburgers tonight!”

“But you always have your chicken patty,” Miguel pointed out, confused by her response. A few of the Spider’s had different food preferences to the others, so the kitchen staff always made sure to keep a stock of different ingredients.

“They ran out,” X told him, hanging her head in disappointment.

“Oh.” Miguel let his arms fall back to his sides, trying to come up with a solution to her predicament. “Well, we can … we can always go out … somewhere … with properly cooked food.” He crossed his arms again as he fixed her with a knowing look and her features broke into a smile. She hopped out of her seat, delighted, but remained standing by his side.

“Thanks, Miguel! I’ll meet you back here at seven!” She bent over to press a quick kiss to the side of his head, then ran off before he could process what had just happened.

“Uh, what just happened?” Ben asked when Miguel remained frozen in his seat, stunned into silence. Hobie’s lips curled into an amused smirk.

“I think boss-man here just asked X out,” he replied. “On a date.” He leaned forward in his seat, wiggling his brows to punctuate his point, and Miguel frowned.

“No, I …” He hadn’t asked her on a date. Had he? He’d never explicitly used the word, but … he had invited her to dinner. With him. Outside of work. Ay, mierda, had he just asked her out on a date?

Hobie laughed at how flustered the large man had become by the tiny little spider, then he started getting up from the table as well.

“Well, you might want to get yourself cleaned up first,” he suggested, nodding at Miguel’s scuffed up suit, the bruise on his cheekbone and the faint trail of stubble dotting his jaw. “I’m not sure if X is into the whole ‘I’ve been awake for the past seventy-two hours wrestling different lowlifes and creeps’ look.” Miguel huffed in irritation.

“She’s never-” ‘complained about it before’, was what he’d been about to say. But that would only make it sound like he cared what she thought about him - like he paid attention to what she thought about him. And then they’d only tease him even more about it being a date. He turned away from them, sniffing in offence. “It’s not a date.”

Jess snickered at his petulant attitude, her features twisted into a knowing expression.

“Okay, but you still have to look presentable, right?” she pointed out. “You’re not just going to drag her to any random restaurant in your Spiderman suit, right? Especially if she’s going to be all nicely dressed up.”

His body heated up at the thought of her being ‘all nicely dressed up’. What would she wear? He’d never seen her in anything other than her Spidersuit before. But she had some really nice curves - curves he’d find his gaze lingering on for a little too long at times. He shook the thought away, pushing his feelings of excitement aside.

“Uh, yeah. Fine. Whatever.” He waved them off, then stood up, shifting in position hesitantly before he walked away. “Message me if you need anything.” He marched away before they could tease him anymore on the subject, but his stomach flipped at the thought of seeing her again later that night.

He walked into the workshop, searching for the small form of his- of X.

“¿Arañita?” he called into the room when he couldn’t find her.

“Workshop!” she yelled from under the table, not knowing whether or not he’d already guessed where she was. “Ugh, where’s my- Ow!” She stood up and rubbed her head where she’d hit it on the underside of the table. And ay, Dios, she looked so cute in her little black dress, her hair neatly done, her features prettily made up. She gave him a sheepish smile as she walked over to him and Miguel felt his heart beat a little faster at the sight.

“Sorry, I was just- Whoa!” Her eyes widened in fear as she slipped on her wrench - lying on the floor in front of her - but Miguel shot a web at her, catching her before she fell to the ground. He tugged her towards him, pulling her into his arms, then he huffed in irritation.

“Be careful, arañita!” he chastised her. “You’re always … You need to be more aware of your surroundings, X.”

“Oh! I …” She trailed off, her mind going blank when she realised how close they were now. She took in his long, dark eyelashes, the flecks of gold in his copper-coloured irises, the tiny scar on his cupid’s bow. She swallowed hard as her gaze fixed itself on his lips and Miguel raised an eyebrow, confused by her silence.

“¿Arañita?”

“Huh?” She dragged her eyes back up to his, but her expression remained distracted as she looked up at him. “Oh! Sorry, I …”

She curled up against his chest, suddenly shy, and his heart sped up as he realised how close they were now: her slender fingers brushing against his chest, her soft curves wrapped up in his arms, her silky hair tickling his neck. He released his hold on her, his body heating up at the feeling of her pressed up against him. Then he turned his gaze away from hers, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh … Are you ready to go?”

“Oh!” X turned back towards her desk and reached for her handbag. “Let me get my- Hey! I’ve been looking for this!” She picked her drill up off the floor and gave it a little rev to check that it still worked. She smiled when it did, then proceeded to begin shoving the machine into her bag.

“What …?” Miguel reached over to take the drill from her and place it down on her desk. Then he fixed her with an exasperated look. “You don’t need a drill on a date, arañita.” He froze when he realised that he’d just referred to it as a ‘date’, but X just grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“On the contrary, I think drilling is the perfect activity for a date, Miguel.” He sucked in a breath at her naughty suggestion, his fingers gripping her waist tightly, and she bit her lip at the feeling.

“Uh,” he stammered out, his voice hoarse from all the dirty thoughts running through his mind at the feeling of her brushing up against him again. “Let’s … I …”

X snickered at his nervousness and stretched onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go, amor!”

She giggled at the word as she began making her way over to the door and Miguel felt his heart skip a beat as he followed after her.

“¡Arañita!” Miguel called to her, narrowly avoiding Doc Ock’s outstretched tentacle as he swung between the buildings. “Use your bubble gun thing!”

“I’m trying, amor!” X yelled back, hitting her gadget from where she stood on a nearby balcony. “Ugh! I need …” She searched her surroundings, trying to find a tool she could use to un-jam the damn thing. Then she spotted the glint of a coin lying on the floor. She cheered at the sight, then swung off the balcony to go get it. But Doc Ock caught her just as she leapt off the edge, swinging his tentacle at her and smashing her into a wall.

“¡Arañita!” Miguel screamed, flying after her as she began falling to the ground. He caught her just before she hit the hard floor, then set her back down on her legs, wrapping her up tightly in his arms. “¡Querida! I told you to be more careful!”

X shook her head, disoriented by the hit. “I’ll … I’ll be more careful, Miguel. I need that coin!”

She pointed at the shimmering object and Miguel shot a web at it to pull it over them. X flashed him a sheepish smile as he handed it to her, vividly imagining the exasperated expression he was probably wearing beneath his mask right that second. “Oh, right.”

“Hmm.” Miguel squeezed her hand before swinging himself back up into the air and slicing one of the villain’s tentacles off with the blades attached to his suit. X gulped at the way his lean body twirled and flew through the air, then she fixed her gun and took aim.

“Take that, you- What?!” She groaned as she found herself trapped in the mound of sticky bubbles that had shot out of the gun and right at her - she’d accidentally aimed it at herself instead. “Shit!”

Miguel turned to his girlfriend when he heard her screech of frustration, then he sighed and pressed a button on his watch. The bubbles slipped off her suit immediately, freeing her and leaving her in a confused state.

“What? How …?”

“I made some adjustments to your suit, cariño,” Miguel informed her, swinging over Doc Ock to slice off another of his tentacles. “Just as a precaution.”

X gasped, horrified by the thought of someone messing with her stuff. “You what?! You touched my suit?!!”

“Well, yeah!” Miguel responded quickly, not knowing what the big deal was - he’d touched her suit many times before already. And she’d never complained then. “I knew you'd somehow get yourself into a situation like this!”

X huffed and folded her arms across her chest. What if he messed up all her codes? Or altered the layout of her suit in some way? What if she pressed a button to activate one of her gadgets and it did something else instead? Ugh! Now she'd have to go back and remake her entire suit! How inconsiderate of her boyfriend! Were boyfriends supposed to be this inconsiderate? Or was hers just especially nosy? “Now I'm gonna have to go back and remake my entire suit!”

Miguel landed in front of her, his confusion obvious even through his mask. “What? Why?”

“Because!” she exclaimed, aiming her gun at Doc Ock as he took another swing at her. “How do I know you didn't fiddle with one of my settings?!” She pressed the trigger and this time, she reached her intended target. Doc Ock twisted his neck around, trying to free his appendages from the mass of gelatinous goo. Miguel crossed his arms, amused by the cute little glare his girlfriend shot at him.

“Oh, you mean like how you always do with my stuff?” he pointed out. X’s jaw dropped at the accusation.

“W-What?” she stammered out. “I'm not ‘fiddling’! I'm ‘improving’ …”

She sniffed and gave a little pout, offended by his dismissal of her enhancing his gadgets as ‘fiddling’ with them. But could he be right? Was this how he felt whenever she started playing around with one of his gadgets? But that was just a gadget, not his entire suit! But maybe she hadn't been so considerate either. She bit her lip as she peeked up at him, picturing the smug smirk on his face. She sighed. “Fine. I'll stop-”

“No,” Miguel interrupted her, making his way over to the struggling Doc Ock. “Don't even pretend like you aren't just gonna keep on messing with my stuff, arañita.”

X narrowed her eyes at him and frowned as she followed behind. “You're so mean, Miguel.”

He walked into the workshop just as his girlfriend handed one of the Peter’s back his web shooters.

“There! It should be as good as new. Better, even! But don’t tell Miguel.” She grinned mischievously and Miguel felt his heart flutter at the sight. Peter shot a few webs at the ceiling, testing out the repaired gadget, and his eyes widened with admiration.

“Whoa! That’s great! Thanks, X!”

“No problem!” She waved at him as he left the room, then her features lit up when she saw Miguel walking over to her. She ran over to him and he swiftly webbed away a stray screwdriver before she could trip over it. He should really look into putting motion detectors on her tools or something - programme an alarm to go off every time she got too close to one of them. “¡Querido! ¿Qué tal, mi amor?”

He wrapped her up in a hug as she slid her arms around his neck, then she pulled back slightly and stretched onto her toes to peck his lips. Miguel bent over, resting his forehead on hers, and narrowed his eyes. “Mmm. Better than mine, hmm?”

His girlfriend giggled and Miguel’s lips stretched wider at the sound. He slid his hands down her back, stopping when he reached her ass, and X sank into his chest, leaning into his touch.

“Oh!” She straightened, suddenly remembering something. Miguel kept his hands glued to her waist as she bounced over to her desk and grabbed her tablet.

“So, I've been trying to be more aware of my surroundings - like you told me to?” She twisted around in his arms and glanced up from her tablet, a proud expression on her face. “And my accident rate has dropped by seventy six percent in the last three months!”

Miguel grinned, not pointing out that that was the same amount of time that they’d been officially dating and that he’d gotten familiar enough with her quirks to anticipate her clumsiness. Instead, he tightened his grip around her, pulling her back into his chest so she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. “What about the other twenty four percent?”

She laughed at the way he murmured it against her lips, his voice smooth and suggestive. Then she pressed her lips back to his and smiled. “No one can be completely free of accidents, Miguel. I'm only human. I'm not perfect.”

“You're perfect to me, querida,” he retorted. X let out another soft giggle and stretched onto her toes to shower her boyfriend with soft kisses.

“And you to me, cariño.”

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watchinglikeafangirl · 2 days

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Does Ming actually have a crush on Tong?

This second episode shows us a lot of Ming's life and it puts things in different perspectives. We see what kind of relationship he has with his mother and with his sister May. The more I watch and the more I understand, the more I ask mysef if he really has a crush on Tong or if he's "just" lonely.

We haven't seen any other friends of Ming, so I assume he only has Tong but that means he has to share Tong with his sister and maybe that's the problem. Tong doesn't always have time for Ming, he cannot always be there and Ming knows that but still keeps on asking while trying to not cross a line. Ming is lonely and wishes for the days to pass by and time moves faster when he's with Tong. But as soon as Tong leaves, the emptiness Ming seems to feel eats him up and I think this emptiness is still there even if Tong is with him. Because Ming doesn't look too happy and he barely smiles at Tong. Ming is forcing himself and I feel Tong is the person keeping Ming from isolating himself and maybe even keeping him alive. So I believe Ming doesn't even have a crush on Tong.

In the first episode and the beginning of this second one, we still see Ming trying to see Tong in Joe. Last week, Ming kissed Joe's back and didn't see his face in order to pretend he is Tong. This week there is a sex scene in a men's bathroom and Joe kisses Ming's body and we can see Ming watching him in the mirror. We cannot see Joe's face, therefor he could be Tong. A bit later we see Joe complain or noticing that Ming is always taking him from behind, another way to pretend Joe is Tong.

It's why Ming rejects and insults Joe because he doesn't want to have feeings for Joe since it would mean he betrays his "crush" on Tong. But he still gets heavily jealous and after hearing Joe talk so fondly of him and spending the day with his sister, Ming decides to let Joe in. And he's immediatly different than he's with Tong. The feelings for Joe are real and not a fantasy and Joe actually makes him feel less lonely even at the times he's not around. When Tong leaves, Ming feels empty, when Joe leaves, there are lingering feelings. We can see it in the way he smiles but he still has to sort things with Tong. It's too complicated to just brush away.

We can see how truly unhappy Ming is and how much he doesn't like nor understand himself since he projects his insecurities about himself on Joe and becomes extremely jealous of Sol. "If I hadn't been here last night, I guess you would've used the condom." The way I gasped. It's so insulting and accusations like this after seeing Sol bring Joe home because he's drunk clearly come from a place of deep insecurity about himself. Nevertheless it's a huge red flag because even if he doesn't like himself, his behavior is not justifiable.

I think the reason why Ming likes Joe in the first place roots in his relationship with his mother. He is a closeted gay man who cannot please his mother and who needs to pretend when he's at home. As soon as he's home, his mother sets him up with some random girl he once saw in his life but doesn't care about. And I think it's the way Joe just accepts him the way he is that makes Ming feel so welcomed. He teels Joe not to talk about what's going on with them.... and Joe agrees. He want to apologize by cooking....and Joe is grateful. He pushes Joe away....and Joe talks about him as his boyfriend. I feel like Joe's sheer acceptance touches Ming's heart, so he takes a step towards Joe because Joe doesn't back off and is not afraid of what it would mean in the future.

But the thing is, when Joe talks about Ming with Sol, he mentions feeling lonely, so I guess Ming thinks spending more time with Joe would make Joe feel less lonely. Ming is doing the same he does with Tong, forcing himself and the other person in ordner to numb the emptiness instead of properly adressing the issue. And Joe being Joe, he naïvely agrees to move in with Ming because he likes Ming but Ming also hurts him because he doesn't like himself. This is going to be some "don't love someone else before you like yourself" because loving someone doesn't mean you will eventually love yourself. This other person loves things about you, you don't like and it's not going to make anyone feel better. Ming is breaking Joe's self-esteem and Joe is someone who doesn't notice the signs until it's too late. He scarily reminds me of myself in my first relationship. I didn't notice it until I lost weight and sleep. I hope someone will tell Joe and I hope Sol stays around to support Joe (but hopefully there's no weird love triangle, I would hate that).

Still, I can already feel some red flags here. Ming is very possessive and obsessive. Whenever he has time, he goes to Joe but that can be overwhelming sooner or later. He's immediatly jealous, he makes Joe feel lonely and he's pushing the relationship. I can already see some falling apart here.

But I absoluty love how Up plays Ming. He says mean things with such a blank face, it's funny. It's the way his voice doesn't waver like Ming means it 100% and sounds so unbothered saying it.

My theory for the upcoming episodes is that Tong is the antagonist plotting something and maybe outing them in public. I get a lot of "lovely writer" vibes with the way the story is progressing. Ming being the closeted one who doesn't want anyone to know. Tong knows about Ming's crush and feels threatened by Joe who seems to change Ming. Something like that.

#my stand in #up poompat #poom phuripan #this show is too good #the ep ended and i was here like “well shit i need to write about this”#it's ep 2 and i already have so.much to say #my stand in the series

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aflame4goinghome · 2 days

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Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter two

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking (marijuana), flirting, a little bit of arguing, lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn so no smut... yet ;)

A/N: Hi guys! Welcome to chapter two! I'm excited to continue this little story for you all. I hope you don't hate me too much for the slow burn ;) Things will really start to heat up once tour starts up, so stay tuned hehe. See ya soon

Listen to the playlist here :)

chapter one

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

You step off the stage after another successful gig and quickly retreat to the dressing room for a moment to freshen up before heading out for a few drinks. Unfortunately for you, tonight’s celebrations, along with every celebration from now on, will be quite different due to the required presence of a certain bassist. Jodie thought it would be a good idea for Sam to attend all your gigs, to make your relationship more believable as you started “launching” it to the public.

You were reluctant at first, but at the end of the day, it didn’t feel like that big of a deal. You didn’t have to be glued to his side the entire night or anything, or at least you hoped not. Nonetheless, you knew he was waiting out there for you, and you knew that he had come alone, which made it even worse. At least if Danny or someone had come along, you’d have some sort of buffer, but no– it was just the two of you. Lucy wasn’t even on shift tonight either, having taken the weekend off to go home and visit her family.

It’s only been just over a week since you agreed to this deal with Sam, and it was already exhausting you. You honestly haven’t even spoken to him since that day, since both of you have been swamped with rehearsals, but Jodie reached out and let you know that he’d be there. You were hoping that he had forgotten, but when you saw him in his usual corner booth during your set, you realized you had gotten your hopes up too high.

“Whatever! I’m strong, and I’m confident, and I don’t care,” you say to yourself in the mirror as you touch up your makeup briefly. The pep talk wasn’t really working though. “What’s there to be afraid of, anyway? He’s just a guy!”

“I’m a man, for the record,” you hear a smug voice say from behind you. God-fucking-damnit. “A damn good-looking one, at that.”

“Samuel, what are you doing back here? I was coming out any second now, you couldn’t wait?” you say, scoffing to yourself as you put your makeup back in your bag and turn to him.

You’re actually surprised to see that he dressed rather nicely tonight. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, paired with a red button-up with the sleeves rolled up. He had the top two buttons undone, but that was the most of it– not nearly as low-cut as Jake would do.

“What, your boyfriend isn’t allowed to come see you after a show?” he asks sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sam– not actually. Nobody’s watching us back here,” you scowl, slinging your tote over your shoulder and walking to the door. You walk right past him and b-line it toward the bar.

“Seeing us come out together will help us look more like a couple, obviously,” he says smugly. “Come on, Y/N, I thought you had some wits about you.” You stop in your tracks and turn over your shoulder to glare at him. You take a deep breath before feeling calm enough to reply.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just go,” you mutter, turning to walk toward the bar again. That was the closest that you could ever get to telling him he was right. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you suppose that it wouldn’t be bad for your image if you walked out together.

“Seb, double rum and coke, please,” you say, trying to brush off your frustration by faking a smile. Sebastian nods and then his eyes drift behind you for a moment. You nearly forgot, honestly. “Oh, and uh– whatever he wants, I guess,” you add, nodding to the tall “man” behind you.

“PBR,” Sam says behind you, and Seb turns to grab a can from the fridge and open it for him. He places both of your drinks on the counter with a sympathetic smile and then adds it to your tab.

Without saying anything else, you just turn to retreat to the corner booth, sliding in first. As you situate yourself, you’re startled by Sam sliding in to sit next to you on the same side of the booth.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask accusingly. Sam rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer before turning his body toward you, his long legs stretched out underneath the table.

“Sweetheart, no one is gonna believe we’re together if we sit as far away from each other as possible,” he answers bluntly. “You have to at least look like you like me and enjoy my presence.”

“It’s harder than you think,” you mumble under your breath, looking down at the drink in your hand atop the table. “But fine.”

“Second time I’m right tonight, y’know. Do I get a prize?” he says with a smirk. You find yourself stifling a laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s funny.

“Is the company of a talented pianist not enough?” you say, your lips turning upward slightly into a smile, subtle but still there. A chuckle leaves his mouth, which surprises you. You never expected him to laugh at your jokes before.

“I suppose it is, you’re one lucky lady, Y/N,” he says smugly. Damnit.

“Careful, Samuel. For a moment there, I almost thought you were complimenting me,” you warn with a smirk, taking a sip of your drink. Another laugh erupts from the man sitting next to you.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just dying for that, aren’t you?” he says, his tone bordering on teasing.

“For you to compliment me? Please. I don’t need you for that when I can easily find it elsewhere,” you bite back.

“Well, I don’t see any takers,” he remarks, looking around the room sarcastically. “Seems like you’re stuck with just me. Good luck getting any attention now, with me around.” You don’t even grace him with a reply after that one, just taking a long sip of your drink before putting it down on the table and turning your attention to the next act on stage.

He lets the silence stay, looking to the stage as well as his arm extends to sit behind you atop the back of the booth. As his arm moves behind you, you’re met with a quick waft of his cologne, smelling strongly of spearmint and pine. You’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit that the scent almost sent your eyes rolling in the back of your head, intoxicating you. But you quickly shake it off.

“So… you guys will be going back on tour soon, yeah?” you ask, trying to fill the silence and save yourself from feeling awkward. He turns toward you, keeping his arm behind you as his fingers graze your bare shoulder.

“Yeah! We’re heading back out in a few weeks, we’re still trying to get more studio time in so that we can finally start the masters on our next project,” he answers proudly. You knew he was passionate about the music, it was something you respected about him.

“That’s great. From what I heard in the studio the other day, you guys have something really amazing going on there. I really liked the blues roots in some of them, I caught it almost immediately,” you say with a soft smile. Maybe talking to him wasn’t as bad as you might’ve thought.

“See, thank you! Josh hates those bits– says they’re sonically boring. I completely disagree, obviously,” he says, a smile growing across his face. Despite hating to admit it, the two of you had aligning interests when it came to music, that much was clear.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! My favorite part was your transition from E major to C sharp minor, in that second song you guys played. It was so satisfying, that’s one of the best key changes in my opinion,” you say, starting to rant but catching yourself. You start to apologize for rambling but the smile on his face tells you that you don’t need to.

“I’m glad you caught that, no one else ever pays attention to stuff like that. I swear sometimes it feels like I’m all alone there, their minds just don’t work the same as mine,” he says, his smile widening as his thumb rubs softly on your shoulder.

“Well, I understand. It’s not exactly the same, but Lucy never gets it when I ramble on about music theory. As a writer, music is like a whole other language to her. I’ve never had anyone to really talk to about music before,” you admit with a shrug, looking over at him.

“Maybe we’ve found that in each other, then,” he says quietly, running his tongue along his bottom lip as your eyes watch carefully. You nod slowly, not sure what else to say. You’re not sure when you let yourself get so distracted, but you couldn’t help it. The proximity made your mind so foggy that you couldn’t think about much else.

All of a sudden, your attention is pulled away from your phone buzzing on the table. You pick it up to read the text you just received, which you see is from Jodie.

Jodie: Fans have already spotted you both out at the club! Some pics are already circling Twitter, look!

She attached screenshots of some tweets that have already been posted, questioning who you are and what you’re doing with Sam. The pictures show the two of you sitting close together, Sam’s arm wrapped around you as the two of you are smiling and laughing.

OMG, who is that with Sam???

He has his arm around her, look!

God, I’m so jealous.

They’re sitting awfully close to be just friends!

You have to admit that the two of you did look good together. You managed to make it seem casual and natural, which was good. To have the fans already buzzing about it was a good sign. After you finish reading the tweets, you hand your phone to Sam so that he can take a look.

“I swear, our fans know no boundaries. Who just takes a picture of someone who’s out minding their own business? Pisses me off,” he scoffs, handing you your phone back as he shakes his head, looking around to see if he can catch anyone looking.

“I know. But at least we have their attention, right? The seeds have certainly been planted. Now we just need to figure out some sort of hard launch,” you answer optimistically, hoping that he’s not too angry. He doesn’t seem to be, since his smile still hasn’t completely faded just yet.

“We look kinda good together there, don’t you think?” you joke, pulling up the picture again. You hear him laugh next to you, shaking his head as he looks down at your phone over your shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” he admits softly. You almost didn’t realize how close he had gotten, to the point where you could feel his warm breath against your ear. You try not to think about the it too much, with the fear of blush creeping over your cheeks.

“Wanna really give them something to post about?” he whispers with a smirk, his voice against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. Leave it to Sam to ruin the moment with relentless flirting once again. You turn your head to face him and realize that he’s much closer than you originally thought. Your nose brushes against his as your eyes lock. You clear your throat, trying to seem unaffected.

“As much as I’m sure you’d love that, I don’t think we need to rush all of that so soon,” you say softly, a twinge of sarcasm dripping from your voice. You watch as his smirk widens.

“Fine, you can be boring,” he says smugly, leaning back against the seat. “But I at least want to give them something interesting to talk about. Who cares if we’re just sitting and talking? Everyone does that, we could at least do something a little creative.” It truly was a performance after all. You just hum as a reply, not wanting to perpetuate the argument any further.

“Here,” he speaks again as his other hand moves to grasp your thigh, pulling your legs to rest slightly on his lap. His hand still lingers on your thigh, grasping firmly on your thigh right below the hem of your leather skirt.

“What’re you doing?” you say, in almost a whisper. His boldness has taken you aback, and you hesitate to fight back in that moment. The feeling of his large, callused hand on your skin clouded your brain so much that you almost thought you might like it.

“Giving them a show,” he smirks, turning to make sure people are looking before turning back to look at you. You couldn’t hide the flush of your cheeks now even if you wanted to. It didn’t take long for him to notice. “Am I getting you all hot and bothered, sweetheart? Is that it?” he asks with a smug grin, his hand moving an inch up your thigh as the other ghosts over your bare shoulder again.

“Pshh– what? No. No. That’s ridiculous,” you answer, obviously flustered.

“Just admit that you like it,” he says, leaning down to close more space between you. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Yeah, right. He’d never let you live it down if you even gave an inkling that you were enjoying this. You’d never give him that satisfaction. You clear your throat, inching away from him.

“Wanna get another round?” you ask, trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t budge.

“Answer my question,” he says assertively, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt teasingly. You breathe out a deep breath, but keep your eyes on his. He’s searching them, waiting for any hint of you giving in, but finds nothing.

“What would you do if my answer was yes? What then?” you ask, your voice breathy and quiet. His lips quirk slightly as he looks down at you.

“You don’t have to play these games to get my attention, y’know. You already have it,” he whispers, his nose brushing past yours. That’s it, you can’t do this anymore.

“Okay, I need a smoke. Let me out?” you ask, still backing away slowly with the hopes that he’d stand up and let you out of the booth. An annoyed sigh leaves his mouth as he complies, getting up from his seat.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, clearly not asking. You just roll your eyes and nod, walking out to the front of the club. Leaning against the front of the building, you reach into your tote and pull out your lighter and the blunt that you had rolled earlier that day. Given the stress from the evening, you thanked your earlier self for thinking of it.

Placing it between your lips, you quickly light it, taking a drag before lowering it to your side. You take a moment to look over at Sam, who’s looking down at you as he leans his side against the wall. Feeling like you were being slightly greedy, you decide to offer him a hit, which he gladly accepts.

“Didn’t take you for the stoner type,” he says casually, taking another hit before passing it back to you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sam,” you answer, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a long drag. You watch as his eyes flicker to your lips for a moment there. You knew what he was thinking. If you were crossed enough, you thought you honestly might let him. But not just yet.

“I’m starting to see that… I guess if I want to know anything about you, I’ll have to work for it, yeah?” he says with a shrug. That was exactly what you were going to say next– that he had to work for it. You hated that he could read you like that. Maybe you were more predictable than you thought.

“I suppose so. You should stop while you’re ahead though, I won’t give in that easily,” you tease, taking another hit as you look up at him, trying to read his expression. The weed is already mixing perfectly with the liquor in your system. Your head felt lighter already.

“I’m not afraid of you, sweetheart. And I don’t go down without a fight,” he says with a smirk, leaning toward you slightly. He towered over you, which felt slightly intimidating. You couldn’t really read him well, either, which made it even more difficult.

“What do you wanna know?” you ask, taking a hit and blowing it out of the side of your mouth.

“Where are you from?” he asks, taking the blunt in his fingers as you pass it.

“Here,” you answer bluntly, watching his lips purse as he takes a drag. It was way hotter than you expected it to be. “Well, not here exactly. I grew up in a town like, thirty minutes away. But I’ve been coming to Nashville all my life.”

“I see,” he says, a small smile on his face. You didn’t ask him where he was from– you already knew the answer, and he knew that. “Did you always know that you wanted to play music?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I started playing piano at 6, joined the jazz band in middle school, and it all just kind of grew from there. My high school band director is the one who set me up with my first ever paid gig, when I was 17. After that, I knew this was what I needed to do.” You can tell that he’s trying to hide his smile, but it’s not working. He was impressed by you, and for some reason, you liked that.

“I did jazz band too, amongst other things. It was honestly a great start on music theory, learning about chord progressions and improvisation and stuff like that,” he says with a shrug, passing your blunt back to you.

“Yeah, I agree. You learn a lot of important stuff there,” you reply, taking a hit. It was nice to have someone to talk music with, even if it was Sam. He knew what he was talking about, and it felt like he understood you. That’s not an easy feat.

“Have you ever been in love?’ he asks, looking down at you. You expected to find a smirk on his face, but there wasn’t one there.

“That’s a loaded question,” you joke, taking another hit as you try to think of what the hell to even say to that. “I don’t think I have, to be honest. There were times when I thought I was, but looking back…” you trail off. “Have you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, taking the blunt from your fingers and taking a hit. “Nothing ever stuck. Not sure why.” Surely you had a couple of good guesses, but you wouldn’t dare to say any now. The topic was somewhat vulnerable, which you didn’t expect from him. Why did he want to know this about you? You’re gonna take a mental note to ask about it another day when you’re both much more sober.

Some time passes, as the two of you share the blunt in silence. Near the end of it, you pass him the blunt and let him finish it off, watching him flick the butt onto the sidewalk and stomp it out. He doesn’t make a move to go inside, however, but instead moves closer to you. As you look up at him, your mind starts to spin as his head reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb smoothes over your cheekbone, the rough callus on it sending shockwaves throughout your body. You’re not sure why you don’t pull away, even when his face starts getting closer and closer to yours.

“Don’t run away this time,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours as your eyes travel to his lips. They looked soft and full, and you started to wonder if they would feel warm against yours. You knew you probably wouldn’t have to wonder much longer. For some reason, you didn’t want to run away. No, you wanted to stay. Something inside you wanted to know if you’d feel something– anything.

Your eyes lock with his as his other hand finds its place on your waist, tugging you toward him slightly. You search his eyes, seeing if you could read his mind. What was going through it? You knew he’d been persistent with you before, but why did this feel different somehow? You let your nose brush against his again, as you feel his breath hot against your lips.

“Sam!” you hear someone exclaim from behind you, causing you to jump from the brash noise.

“We’ll finish this later,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. You suck in a deep breath then quickly pull away, leaving at least a foot between you two as a girl approaches you– seemingly a fan. Sam puts on a brave face, smiling softly as he talks to her. He was gracious and kind, despite being visibly frustrated.

“Do you… want me to take your picture?” you ask softly, to which she nods feverishly. After snapping a few photos on her phone, you hand it back to her with a shy smile.

“So, who’s this?” she asks, turning to Sam. God, she was nosy. All the fans were, clearly. What did she care? Why would she need to know who Sam was spending his time with? Your angry internal rant comes to a full stop as Sam wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Actually, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he says proudly, his grip soft but strong on my side. You offer her a soft smile as her face lights up, and you know this will be plastered all over the internet by tomorrow. You suppose that was the whole point, though. This was bound to happen eventually, you just didn’t expect it to be on your first night out. You thought you’d have more time to prepare.

Luckily for you both, this girl was way too drunk to bother asking too many other questions. Soon enough, she says her goodbyes and swiftly leaves. You breathe out a sigh of relief, laying your back against the wall once more.

“Fuck, that was exhausting. How do you do that all the time?’ I ask jokingly, rubbing my temples. He lets out a soft laugh, which makes your lips turn upward into a smile almost immediately.

“It’s not always that bad. Usually, they refrain from personal questions like that… sorry. I know I kinda put you on the spot there,” he offers genuinely, which you accept.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know it would happen. I just wish I was more prepared– I mean, we don’t even have our backstory together or anything! We haven’t discussed any of the details at all,” you say, slightly exasperated. Another laugh leaves his lips. You think to yourself that you quite liked being the person who makes him laugh.

“Right, well I guess we’ll just have to figure that out then. We’ll need to be prepared, now that everyone is going to know,” he says. “How about we meet up for coffee on Monday and set all the details straight? That sound good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod with a small smile. “I can do that.”

“Great, I’ll text you the details tomorrow then,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He sees the time and his eyes shoot open, not realizing how late it's gotten. “Shit, it got late on us. Can I call you a cab?” he asks, looking up from his phone to look at you.

“Oh, no that’s not necessary. I only live around the corner, I’ll walk,” you insist, though you’re surprised he cares that much. It was a side of him that you had yet to see.

“Then I’ll walk you home,” he says, not even letting you answer before starting to walk off. How he knew what direction it was in, you weren’t sure. You suppose he’s seen you leave that way before and leave it at that.

Soon enough, you’re both stopped in front of your apartment building. It seems like you’re both unsure of how to say goodbye, considering the nature of your “relationship” was such a gray area. You knew he was about to kiss you earlier, and you knew that you were going to let him, but you’ve sobered up slightly now. It wasn’t a good idea.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you say softly, just choosing to back away without a proper goodbye in favor of avoiding any more awkwardness between the two of you.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says, offering you a soft smile as he shoots you a wink. You watch as he turns to leave and walks back toward the bar to catch his Uber home. As he turns the corner, you quickly turn around and retreat inside, hurrying to your apartment before finally entering your bedroom. You lean your back against the door and sink to the floor, your mind slightly boggled by the entire evening.

You have to admit that you ended up enjoying his company. The teasing was still excessive and he was arrogant, but there were times when this different guy shone through the cracks. You wanted to know that guy.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you’re sitting on your balcony on Sunday afternoon, enjoying the sunny weather with an iced coffee and a book in hand, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You slide a bookmark onto the page and shut the book, setting it down on your table next to your coffee before reaching into your back pocket to pull out your phone.

Sam: We still on for tomorrow?

You hum to yourself, checking your calendar quickly to make sure you don’t have anything else going on. You thought that he might have forgotten about your plans to meet up tomorrow, since it was already well into the afternoon and you hadn’t heard from him. But you suppose he isn’t one to rise early, as Danny told you last week. You typically weren’t either, but today was an exception.

You: Yeah, whenever works best for you. We could meet at the coffee shop across the street from Seb’s?

That place was your usual haunt, the baristas all knew your name by now. It was helpful for hangovers, so you always came in the morning after a night out and it soon became a habit. You knew Sam didn’t live in Midtown, but maybe he wouldn’t mind coming down.

Sam: Sounds good, meet at 2 pm? I’ve got a short meeting with the guys in the morning.

You: Yeah, that’s good. See ya then.

He doesn’t respond from there, so you just leave it at that. You never took him for much of a texter, so you didn’t read too much into it. You slide your phone back into your pocket and open your book back up, picking up where you left off.

Just as you were getting back in the groove of the story, you heard your apartment door close behind you. You turn around to see Lucy coming in from her weekend with her parents. She spots you outside and walks over, sliding the glass door open.

“Hi, love,” she says, coming outside and sitting on the chair opposite you.

“Hey, Luce. How was your weekend?” you ask, still keeping your eyes on your book.

“It was good! Tommy had his graduation ceremony this weekend, so there was a big party,” she answers with a smile. Tommy is her younger brother, who’s just graduated high school. You never knew him well, since their age gap was so big, but he was a sweet kid.

“That sounds nice!” you say, offering her a soft smile.

“How was yours? Anything interesting happen?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you. She knows something.

“What did you see?” you ask bluntly, getting right to the point. A chuckle leaves her lips as she smiles at you.

“Oh, nothing. Just saw a few pictures of you and a certain rockstar cuddled up at Seb’s last night, plastered all over their update accounts on Instagram,” she says with a smug smile.

“Why on Earth do you follow their update accounts, you weirdo!” you say, barely getting the sentence out before you both erupt into laughter.

“When you told me you’d be pretending to date him, I went and followed some of them! I knew you were bound to make it on there eventually and I wanted to see my best friend become famous!” she exclaims, pulling her phone out to show you the posts. There were photos of you both in your booth and standing outside the club. You did look rather close.

“I am not becoming famous. It’s just a couple of photos,” you say curtly. “And he might have told a fan I was his girlfriend,” you mumble at the end, hoping she didn’t hear.

“He what?” she yells, and your hand shoots to cover her mouth with a giggle.

“Shhh, shut up, the neighbors already think we’re crazy,” you laugh, taking your hand away after a moment. “It’s not a big deal. We knew he’d have to make it official eventually. We’re meeting up tomorrow to get our story together and stuff, so that we know what to tell the fans in case we get asked anything on the spot.”

“Wow, you guys are moving fast,” she teases. She had no idea. You were tempted to tell her about the kiss you almost shared the night before, but inevitably you decide not to. Talking about it will just complicate things even more.

“Whatever. He’s actually not that bad at times– but don’t tell him I said that,” you say with a small smile across your lips. “We just have more in common than I expected.”

“I’ve been telling you that for months, Y/N,” she says sarcastically, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go rot in bed for a while, talk to you later.”

“Okay, have fun,” you say, your smile widening as you wave her off and then open your book back up again.

You really couldn’t stay concentrated on reading today, it seems. You try your best to refocus, and you eventually do, reading until the sun starts to go down. Soon enough, you retreat to bed, getting an early rest before your coffee “date” with Sam tomorrow. That should be… interesting, to say the least.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you try and get ready to go the next afternoon, you’re completely stuck on what to wear. What does someone wear to a coffee date with their fake boyfriend to discuss the terms of their fake relationship? God, even phrasing that question made your head spin. You tried asking Lucy for advice but she was no help, just resorting to light teasing and not giving any actual suggestions.

“Why do you care what you wear? It’s not like he’s your actual boyfriend,” she said with a smug smile. You didn’t grace her with a reply, opting just to shut the door in her face and turn back to your closet.

You sigh to yourself before sifting through your clothes, pulling out a white linen button-up shirt. You decide to just go with a black tank top, with the white shirt on top, left unbuttoned. The weather was quite warm with the summer heat really starting to settle in. You throw on a pair of jean shorts, slip on your low-top white vans, and then throw your things into your tote bag before heading out the door. It was only a few minutes before 2 at this point, but you didn’t want to arrive too early. You assumed he’d be late himself, anyway.

As you turn the corner and cross the street, you see him sitting at a small table out front. Damn, guess you were wrong. Again.

“Sam,” you greet quietly as he stands up from the table.

“Nice of you to finally show up, Y/N. Was starting to think you stood me up,” he says with a smirk, opening the door for you.

“Shut up, I’m two minutes late,” you answer with a scoff, getting in line to order a drink. He stands next to you, leaning against the counter. You decide to stand in silence until after you place your order since your bickering wasn’t really the best idea in public. You order a chai tea latte and Sam just gets an americano, and the two of you find a table in the corner while you wait.

“So, let’s get started then, shall we?” Sam says, leaning back in his chair. “Where’d we meet?” Your lips quirked upward into a smile.

“Okay, getting right to the point, I see,” I joke, folding my hands and placing them on the table. “Well, that one’s easy. We met at the club. We’ll just say that you came to some of my gigs and just liked me sooo much that you had to say hi,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all. You watch as a chuckle leaves his mouth, and there goes that feeling again.

“Alright, sure,” he laughs as a barista comes to put our drinks on the table. “Thanks,” he says to them, taking a sip of his drink before turning back to you. “And we can say we started seeing each other… when? Maybe March?”

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” you shrug, taking a sip of your chai. “That won’t explain the girls you’ve had… relations with between then and now, though,” you add, looking up at him. He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair.

“If you’re jealous, just say that,” he smirks. “We can just say that we only became exclusive recently.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, but quickly decide it’s not worth the argument, opting to just scoff and change the subject.

“What do we say when they ask why I’m not going on the tour with you guys?” you ask, adjusting nervously in your seat as a look washes over his face that you can’t quite interpret.

“Are you not?” Sam asks, the tone in his voice sounding slightly accusatory. You’re not even quite sure how to reply, this wasn’t something you ever discussed.

“Wait, do you want me to?” you ask, straightening your posture. “I still have to work, you know. This is how I make a living, I can’t just ditch Seb for weeks on end.” He ponders your words for a moment, then leans forward a bit.

“You don’t need all that. Jodie said she’d help set you up in your career, and she meant that,” he says sincerely. “She can pay you for the entire time we’re gone, if that’s the problem. I’m sure we can find something for you to do on the tour. And then when we come back, we can get you in the studio to record your album.”

It all almost felt too good to be true. Too easy. What was in it for them, truly? Sure, having a likable and successful girlfriend would be good for Sam’s image, but is that really all it is? Why does it feel like you’re getting way more out of this than they are?

“I don’t know, Sam. I really don’t feel like I’ll belong there. What could I possibly do on tour besides act as your arm candy?” you say bitterly.

“Y/N, you’re not just my arm candy. It isn’t like that,” he says dejectedly. His eyes scan your face but you don’t seem convinced.

“You may be strikingly beautiful, but you’re much more than that to me, trust me,” he teases, coaxing a smile out of you. When he sees that his plan is working, he continues. “Maybe you could help me compose some piano fills for the shows or something.”

“You’d really let me do that?” you ask, your eyes lighting up slightly. A soft smile grows across his lips.

“Sure. You won’t catch me admitting this ever again, so don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart… but you’re a talented musician. I’m sure we could cook something up together,” he says.

You look over at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this is the same Sam that you used to argue with all those weeks ago. Obviously, it is, and he’s still keeping you on your toes, but something’s changed. You’re starting to think that this partnership may work out after all.

“Okay. Alright, I’ll come,” you answer. “How long is it, anyway?”

“We’ll only be gone a month, and then we’ll have off until the end of the summer,” he assures you. It can’t be that bad, you suppose.

“Okay, so we have that covered, I guess,” you say, taking another sip of your drink. “I guess that just leaves one more thing. We should set up some rules.”

“Rules? Seriously?” Sam scoffs, leaning back in his seat again.

“Yes, seriously. We have to be on the same page or else this is gonna end up becoming a big mess,” you say, returning his annoyed look.

“Fine. What rules are we talking about here?” he concedes.

“Well, first of all, do the rest of the guys know? Do they know it’s fake?” you ask.

“They think it’s real,” he shrugs. “Jodie thought it’d be better that way.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way then. But Lucy knows it’s fake,” you admit, and he gives you a disapproving look. “I tell her everything, it’s not my fault! But she’s the only one, even Seb thinks it’s real somehow.”

“Right, well. To the rest of the world, it’s real then. Anything else?” he asks, raising his eyebrow at you.

“We should agree that this,” you start, pointing your finger between Sam and yourself, “is only in public. When we’re alone, it’s just me and you, none of this happy couple stuff.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he says with a smirk, “...unless that’s something you’ll have trouble with, sweetheart?” he teases.

“Yeah, right. I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you, my bad,” you answer sarcastically. “Whatever, so that’s handled. Have anything you wanna add?” you ask, sipping from your mug.

“Yeah, what happens if one of us forms any sort of…” he trails off, pondering his words carefully. “...feelings.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you look over at him, almost spitting out your drink. You swallow it quickly and clear your throat.

“Feelings?’ you laugh. “Not that that’s ever gonna be a problem, but… if it is, then I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”

“What, you’re not scared that you’ll fall in love with me?” he asks, leaning over the table slightly. You mirror his actions, your faces mere inches away.

“Not in the slightest, Samuel,” you answer proudly, your eyes piercing into his. You weren’t going to back down, and neither was he. As you watch his eyes drift to your lips, you clear your throat, leaning back again.

“Anything else?’ you ask, looking down at your mug in your hands as you avoid his gaze.

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ loudly. You can just hear the smirk in his voice. You’re not giving in that easily, you know that the second you look up at him, your heart will jump into your throat.

“Great, so that settles it,” you say, taking the last sip and then putting your empty mug down on the table. You watch as his hand extends out to yours, to shake it.

“Girlfriend?” he asks, smirking at you as you finally look up at him. You have to hold in a sigh as you offer your hand to him, shaking it.

“Girlfriend.”

His eyes dart between your eyes and your lips again before he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. It takes everything in you not to fold right then and there, frankly, but you’re stronger than that.

His lips were just as soft as you thought they’d be. Not that you’ve thought about them before, of course not. Nonetheless, they were soft, and so warm. They lingered far longer than you wanted them to, and your instincts caused you to pull your hand away, placing it back in your lap. At that, you abruptly stand up from your seat, grab your tote bag, and put it on your shoulder.

“I have to– I’ve gotta go,” you say softly, and he quickly stands up.

“Okay, I’ll walk you home,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he follows you out the door. Again? That’s the second time just this week… You have to admit that it was thoughtful, but you don’t want to think too much of it. It’s just a nice gesture, nothing serious. He might be an arrogant asshole, but you guess he’s still a gentleman.

You walk beside each other on the sidewalk as you make your way down the street to your apartment. Every once in a while, his hand brushes yours as you walk, sending jolts throughout your body that you’re determined to ignore. You wondered why he asked you about the possibility of feelings being involved. Was that something he was worried about? Should you be worried about it? Surely not. Lucy seems to think you should be, if you told her about this she’d freak. But it’s not a big deal, right?

You stop in front of your building, the awkward opportunity of a goodbye leering over you both once more. You go back up toward your building in the same fashion as the other night, but a strong hand stops you before you get the chance to get too far.

“Josh is having a party on Friday,” he says quickly, as if he was spitting it out. “I told him I'd bring you.” You stop and look up at him, his grip on your upper arm still remaining.

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll be there,” you answer with a soft smile. His eyes light up, like he was expecting you to put up a fight.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at 8?” he asks. You nod, as his eyes continue to burn into yours. God, what now? Before you have the chance to do something awkward, his other arm lands on your waist and he bends down, placing a kiss on your temple and then backing away toward the sidewalk, leaving you in silent shock. “See you then, sweetheart.”

“Uh– yeah, see you,” you mutter, your eyes trained on him as he turns the corner. What the fuck was that?

As you slam the door of your apartment, you rush off to your room with hopes of avoiding any interrogation from Lucy. It doesn’t work, however.

“Y/N,” she opens your door with a smug look on her face, leaning against the door frame. “How was your date?” You scoff at her as you throw yourself onto your bed.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you groan as she enters the room and climbs into bed next to you.

She stays sitting up as you lay your head on the pillow, and her fingers comb through your curls as you debrief the events of your afternoon. Despite her occasional jokes and teasing, she seems to be really supportive of you going on tour with the band. After all, it will be a good start for the future of your music career. But at what cost? What will it be like to spend a month straight with Sam Kiszka and his band of brothers? You still had two weeks to prepare, but even that didn’t feel like enough. Your world was moving a mile a minute, and it was only just getting started.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for this series, or if you want to be tagged in all of my stories!

Taglist:

@highladyofasgard @gvfpal @childinthegardenn @myleftsock @peaceloveunitygvf @gretasfallingsky @gretavanfan @itsafullmoon @jordie-gvf

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic #sam kiszka #sammy gvf #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #enemies to lovers #sam kiszka gvf #greta van smut #greta van angst #gvf #enemies to friends to lovers #bad reputation #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #gretavanfleet #sam kiszka smut

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cherryblossombombs · 2 days

Text

I have an issue with the "the giga cover is likely fujobait" because I can't help but think:

if it was truly fujobait, why now?

Why try to get their attention if MHA is now in the 100M club? The series now so popular, hori/jump doesn't need queer shippers to increase its popularity.

Why try to get fujos and queer fans, if it's already popular in that group? Wasn't it apparently shown that MHA is more popular with women and LGBTQ+ fans?

Why try to get that audience when hori had the chance to do that back in 2016-2018 when Kr//bk was the popular gay ship? Wasn't there an interview where someone pretty much asked hori if he's for kr//bk, but instead of playing along, hori made it about bkdk (the ship that no one took seriously at the time) and said he saw the hand hold more about bkdk angst. Kr//bk was a popular ship, it had bones making official art of them. The smash parody manga had moments of it. Two heroes was their movie [I believe hori didn't really help in that movie. However, notice how in the second movie, (he was a part of that one one), focused on bkdk (again, the ship no one took seriously)]. Hori had the ability to use that ship as bait, but he seemed to be the only one out of everyone else to not go for it. Instead he kept pushing for the ship that was thought to be too toxic to even become a platonic ship.

If horikoshi did not want bkdk to seen as romantic, why isn't he stopping jump for implying it? You really can't say that he has no ability to, the guy went to bones and told them the ending. Now, notice how bones suddenly stopped making iz//ch moments and added a bkdk moment in the recap episodes (something that they would never do 2 seasons prior). The assistant (whom hori is friends with) is a loud speaker of dkbk lol. Hori follows him on twitter, there's no way that hori hasn't seen his dkbk art once. Same for katsuki's JP VA (who is also a friend of Hori).

Why try to bait the audience when the manga is ending?

Idk, maybe there's a chance he is actually queerbaiting and make iz//ch canon, but again, after everything?

After the togachako arc? He had made ochako confess her crush on midoriya, only for seconds later to not only brush it off as unimportant (unimportant in the sense of it was more of way to relate to toga and speak with her, it wasn't really used as a "canon izu//ocha" moment), she tells toga that she could have ochako's blood for the rest of her life (and we know that's toga's love language of returning/accepting her feelings) and she told toga that she had the cutest smile in the whole world. Like, didn't hori say that toga was made for ochako's character? I feel like it wouldn't make sense for hori to do all of this, then have ochako end up with midoriya, it would feel like a middle finger to toga tbh.

After chapters 285, 322, 362, 367, 403, and 404? The apology? The "you're the closest one to midoriya izuku, therefore I need to kill you in order to make him go crazy". The heart shaped black whip after seeing bakugou's dying body? The "their feelings became one" double spread? this bullet point could be spread to about 2-3 document pages, but I'm just going to summarize for this post lol. But overall, these chapters (and a few more), show me (imo) that it the "fujobait" claim isn't really strong to use against bkdk.

Again, maybe this is queerbait, because I know that there are times where other media/anime have done simliar and still had the MC in a heterosexual relationship, and leave everyone dumbfounded lol. Once again, all I say to this is "let's see what happens."

P.S. Isn't this the same author who said that he thought that naruto was going to end at 698 (the implied SNS ending) lol? Idk if it's true, that's just something I've heard.

#bkdk #dkbk #bakudeku

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mimisempai · 3 days

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Your loving touch

Summary

Aziraphale's fascination with Crowley's hair has only increased over the years, and now that he can touch it freely, he's not about to let it go.

Notes

I just obsessively like the idea of Aziraphale's fingers in Crowley's hair.

On Ao3

Rating G - 969 words

Crowley's hair.

One of his features that Aziraphale had always admired.

Whether he was an angel or a demon, the color of his hair was as warm as a candle flame, always changing and always so fascinating that the angel always wanted to touch it at the risk of getting burned.

Whatever the length, the cut, the style, he always had the longing to run his fingers through it.

All the times Aziraphale had had to resist the urge to touch it.

The angel's dancing curls that followed his animated movements as he spoke of his beloved stars.

The long, wavy hair that flowed down his back when they'd seen each other on the wall, angel and demon.

The short curls under the golden laurel wreath in Rome that had made the angel want to follow the outline of each with his finger.

And so, over the years, just like his never-changing outfit, his desire to touch the demon's hair had never gone away, growing stronger each time they met.

Like when they'd discussed the evolution of the Antichrist on the bus, and Aziraphale had almost felt a tingling in his fingers at the urge to untie the tie that held Crowley's hair.

But that would have been inappropriate.

At no time would it have been appropriate, but the urge had always been there and Aziraphale couldn't deny it.

Even less so now that he could touch the demon's hair whenever he wanted, for no particular reason.

If Aziraphale had imagined a million times what it would be like to run his fingers through Crowley's hair, he hadn't imagined how much he would enjoy it.

Craving had turned into addiction.

The angel would always brush a strand behind Crowley's ear, twirl another between his fingers as they embraced, simply run his fingers through the red hair, or bury a hand in it and hold it tight as they kissed.

What made it even more addictive was that Aziraphale knew that Crowley liked having Aziraphale touch his hair as much as the angel liked touching it.

It was probably one of their incredible complementarities.

Touching and being touched.

They were on the sofa, and once again Crowley was lying on it, his head in the angel's lap. Aziraphale had long since put down his book and was content to stroke the demon's hair, watching in fascination as the light played on the red strands that slipped between his fingers.

"Angel? Can I ask you something?"

Aziraphale chuckled and replied, "You're never shy about asking me anything, so go ahead."

Crowley turned his head to look at him and asked quietly, "Why do you like my hair so much? I've noticed you touch it a lot."

Aziraphale, self-conscious, wanted to remove his hands from the demon's hair, but Crowley held them back and added, "I'm not saying that because I don't like it, far from it, but I guess I'm just curious to know why."

Aziraphale cleared his throat and said softly, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, "I used to want to touch your hair just because I felt an uncontrollable need to, a need I couldn't explain, it fascinated me, in fact it still fascinates me. But now, in addition to fascination and admiration, I'd say I want to touch it because it's part of you."

He slid a hand forward and caressed Crowley's cheek, which leaned into his palm. Then Aziraphale continued to run his fingers through Crowley's hair.

Crowley, his voice filled with wonder as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing, repeated the angel's words, "Because it's a part of me..."

Aziraphale, brushing back a lock of red hair, nodded and replied, "Yes, because I love everything about you, not just a part of you. Your hair, like your eyes, your skin, your spirit, your playfulness, everything. I like touching your hair because it's something very intimate, because you let me, because you like it too, because you're not afraid to be vulnerable in my hands, for all those reasons."

Crowley didn't answer, but straightened up, and Aziraphale feared he'd said too much. After all, maybe Crowley had come to find it creepy. He didn't have to ponder too long, for the demon had sat down next to him and now leaned in to kiss him. ust as his lips touched the angel's, he grabbed his hands and placed them on his hair, letting him know that his fascination with Crowley's hair was fully accepted. After that, Aziraphale's hands were buried in the demon's hair, and the kiss lasted until they had to part to catch their breath.

When they had caught their breath, Crowley lay back as before, his head in Aziraphale's lap, his hands automatically resting on Crowley's head. In a now incredibly familiar gesture of intimacy, Aziraphale resumed his caresses of Crowley's hair, sliding the soft red strands between his fingers.

The demon said softly, in a voice clearly full of emotion, "You know, Angel, when you touch me like that..."

His voice broke and for a moment he couldn't continue. Seeing that Crowley was struggling to find his words, Aziraphale said nothing and simply continued to stroke his hair.

Crowley took Aziraphale's hand and kissed it gently before continuing, "When you touch me like that, it's like you're touching my soul. Whether it's my hair, my hands, or whatever you want, just keep touching me, because if you love to touch me, you can't imagine how much I love it when you touch me."

Since there was nothing more to say, Aziraphale said nothing, savoring the moment, continuing to run his fingers through the flaming strands and Crowley continuing to lean into his hands, which told him as much as the most beautiful of declarations, the love Aziraphale had for him.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love - Series post S2

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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blazinghotfoggynights · 2 days

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Wank is definitely trying to infiltrate the fandom. The proliferation of posts aimed at the fans of specific ships, fans who do not like characters or character development, or fans who point out unrealistic situations and behaviors is definitely frightening. So, I will say a few things and keep going.

(Disclaimer: If you don't like my views, kudos to you. It's called free thinking and free will. Maybe if you explain why you don't agree, it will open a fun dialogue.

Saying I am wrong or I suck doesn't bother me and does not count as supporting your views. You can't leave anon comments. You can thank a few who can't act like civilized humans for that change. I am always open to discussion and debate, if it is respectful.)

Here goes some of my thoughts on current fandom war topics I have seen:

BuckTommy is gross/pointless/forced/not believable.

I don't think it is gross. Lou isn't my type, but I can tell he is a handsome man. So, I understand someone being attracted to him.

I think Buck needs to explore himself, not just his sexuality, outside the 118. As for not being believable, I think it is. And there are many interpretations, I believe, that could be correct.

I don't feel this is forced in the way most of the posts I've seen are implying it. I think Tommy was a convenient character and maybe TPTB are using this as a way to get that character, and possibly his unit, more exposure. Spinoff maybe? When you think about it, it would have been just as easy to create a new character and have him force Buck to look within himself.

I think the relationship is very believable, but not for the most common reasons.

This is organic attraction and a natural progression.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

I believe that even though we are in a new season, Buck is still traumatized by dying. I think he is hiding it well. I think throwing himself into a relationship with someone who was obviously only into him due to his brush with death distracted him. But I don't think Buck has dealt with dying and what that dream showed him. There is no way he does not have a lot of unresolved issues.

I think Natalia was a distraction that actually worked for a while. But, if you go back to the scene where he tells Eddie they broke up, he is obviously in need of attention. He is blatantly resentful after Eddie says he is unavailable due to Christopher's date but asked Marisol to help chaperone. (Eddie is no better. Listen to how he says Natalia's name.)

So, we have a man who died, didn't deal with that at all, threw himself into a relationship with a death doula, the relationship ended, his safe place was now taken by Marisol, whom Eddie was asking to fill a parental role that would have been Buck's before.

In that one scene Buck was slapped into a reality where Eddie is not always available when he needs him, he is no longer Christopher's de facto second parent, and Eddie is trying to move on a build a family with someone else.

We know Buck doesn't have the healthiest coping skills. I was waiting for him to go off the rails. He was drifting alone.

Enter Tommy. Tommy who is instantly drawn to Eddie. If you never find out that Tommy is into men, and look at the sparring, the fixing Eddie's car, the FLYING THE MAN TO VEGAS FOR A SOLD OUT FIGHT, the intense focus, amazing adventures, and acts to impress Eddie still seem like someone showing off for someone they like.

You can interpret the scene of Tommy, Eddie, and Buck separating after watching Bobby and Athena as Tommy being smitten with Eddie, watch how he stares at Eddie, and Buck trying to draw Tommy's attention away from Eddie, whom he is already seeing slip away due to Marisol.

(I will probably explore this in another post.)

In other words, I think Buck was experiencing a breakup, seeing Eddie as slipping away, still shaken by his death, and not dealing. Tommy could very well be Natalia 2.0, a distraction when he needed it. Tommy was into Eddie but Eddie was taken and wasn't giving him any signs that there could ever be more. Buck needed someone and Tommy saw an opportunity with a hot man.

Buddie doesn't make sense because Eddie is not gay.

May I remind everyone Buck was canonically straight for six seasons?

Eddie doesn't have to be gay. He could be bi, pan, demi, or whatever. I've touched upon Eddie Diaz's unusual behavior with and toward women in prior posts. I have been on this Earth long enough to know that Eddie Diaz does not behave like a typical heterosexual male.

I also know sexuality is not as concrete and clear as we always think it is. A lot of people have figured out in their 30s, 40s, 50s, and beyond the sexuality they genuinely believed they were was not quite accurate.

Eddie's relationships have all been based on what he feels he is supposed to do. That man has never once shown a genuine sexual attraction to any woman he has been paired with. He never looks at any of them with that gleam in his eye.

But you know who he does look at like that? Buck. He has done it many times throughout the series. (That will probably be a separate post, too.)

Eddie doesn't pursue women. He doesn't feel comfortable with relationships naturally progressing with those women. When he finds himself in a relationship that is moving to another level he panics, literally. He basically has kicked every woman out, yet he invites Buck over all the time.

Eddie Diaz is not straight. Eddie Diaz has never had a functional, stable relationship with a woman. Eddie Diaz is just as messed up and in need of thrice weekly therapy appointments as Buck.

BuckTommy and Buddie can't coexist.

Why not? How many people here have only had one partner in their lives? It happens but it is rare.

Many seem to overlook that Buddie can't happen right now anyway because Eddie is with Marisol. So, just as Eddie jumped at Marisol because Buck dove into a relationship with Natalia headfirst, why would it be such a stretch to consider that Buck is throwing himself into an opportunity with Tommy because Eddie is taken.

I keep pointing out those two are the poster children for unhealthy dynamics.

Some fans don't like Tommy Kinard.

What's wrong with that? I've seen many valid reasons fans given by the fans who don't like the character. I've seen some that are ridiculous, too, but I scroll quickly past those.

Tommy, canonically, was a terrible person but is now a fan favorite and suddenly redeemed.

I get it. He says he was struggling with his sexuality and trying to fit in and all is forgiven. 🙄 Personally, I don't know why the hell Hen would ever forgive him. I understand forging a positive working relationship with him, but as a woman, I have seen so many men treat us, I am a woman who has worked with people of all races and sexualities, badly in the workplace and a simple "I'm sorry" is supposed to be enough to erase the damage and anguish that casual misogyny, racism, and homophobia caused. It hurts when you are insulted, humiliated, and punished for something you can't control, such as your biological sex, race, or sexuality. He wasn't a dumb kid in junior high trying to impress some kids so he could be their friend. He was a grown ass man who chose to bully a woman due to her sex, race, and sexuality. What makes it worse is he is gay, too!

Some fans have said they see negative personality traits in the character. I didn't initially, until I rewatched his scenes after reading some posts on social media. I missed a lot of little things. He's older. He's experienced. He knows how to woo someone. But he also talks down to Buck. When he says Evan, it isn't warm and loving like when Maddie or Eddie says it. It is almost scolding and reproachful. I also concur with those who say he uses snark to put Buck in his place and Buck doesn't even notice. (Let me stop right here and state that if those traits are meant to be subtly conveyed, Lou Ferrigno, Jr is doing a damn good job.)

It's perfectly fine to dislike the character. There is no rule saying fans have to like every character on the show.

BuckTommy and Buddie can't coexist. If Buck is with Tommy, it is a slap in the face to Buddie. If Buddie happens, it is a slap in the face to BuckTommy.

Buck and Eddie have been with other people. If they ever get together, their pasts don't matter. I hate to be the one to tell you, but wedding night virgins? Not common anymore.

Buck is exploring man on man sex with a man who knows what he is doing.

Eddie is in a relationship, too. He's learning about himself. Catholic guilt. Not living for himself.

Every single relationship they have had has shaped them and taught them something.

I wouldn't even be upset if Eddie figured out he liked men, then spent time with an experienced man.

Everyone in the 118 needs to find outlets beyond that group if you ask me.

I admitted early on I am a Buddie endgamer, but I am enjoying seeing slutty Buck openly thirsting over Tommy. I would enjoy seeing Eddie openly thirsting over some sexy man for a while, too. Bring on the breathless begging for the D. I get it. I have been there, baby. When the D is good, you don't mind begging.

So, those are just some thoughts based on the state of fandom right now.

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jace-writes-about-things · 22 hours

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A Conjured Bed

Alexa play Hot In Here! Yes, we finally have some smut! Bare with me please because this is the first piece of smut that I have written in a LONG time, I've tried to do this man justice but please if you feel like I haven't tell me! Pointers are always accepted, anyways please accept horny Gale <3

After stumbling across Gale’s apparent mentor, Elminster who had not only forced his way into camp but had come baring a mission from Mystra, a mission that she demanded Gale to basically kill himself to destroy the Absolute, needless to say Tav was seething with rage which considering Halsin had informed their party that he needed assistance protecting a portal from attacking forces so that he could retrieve Thaniel, Tav was more than happy to cut down some enemies in the name of blowing off some steam. Meant at least she would lodge her longsword in the heads of some bad guys instead of misplacing her weapon in the next innocent that annoyed her, or worse one of her campmates.

After a long battle of seemingly endless shadow monsters and undead being thrown at the party left, right and centre Halsin emerged from his barely standing portal clutching a small child in his arms, this must have been Thaniel the poor child looked exhausted, Tav quickly urged Halsin back to camp before taking a moment to assess the damage everyone had sustained during the rather strenuous fight. Glancing sideways she noticed a hungry look in Gale’s eyes pointed directly at her, the stares meaning going directly over Tav’s head she approached Gale with concern, “Gale? Are you all right do you need an artifact? Has Elminster’s magic on you failed?” Confusing his hunger for her with his hunger for magical items Gale seemed to redden in colour at the misinterpretation, “No, it’s just, it’s quite thrilling, to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially being at your side.” He seemed to pause, considering his next words carefully, “I once read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for… other forms of stimulation.”

“Have you ever read anything on that subject?” Tav couldn’t believe what she was hearing, the big bad barbarian reduced to, silence, stunned with what he was propositioning her with in front of everyone no less… “You’re attracted to me… in a place like this?” She wanted to flirt back but given their audience she was hesitant, “I can’t imagine anywhere that would turn my heart away from you, cursed or otherwise. You’d always be as beautiful, and as impressive.”

“Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking. But standing at your side through such darkness and disrepair. It only makes me want you more.” Tav was ready to jump his bones right there and then, again given if they hadn’t had an audience, she would have let him take her right there and then below the Last Light Inn safe haven, but her hooded eyes must have given her dirty intentions away as Gale simply smirked and shut down every thought racing through her mind.

“Unfortunately, this is neither the time nor place to indulge such feelings. So, we must be patient and push all such thoughts aside. For now.” With a wink and a smirk, he set off to gather any useful supplies from the bodies the party had surrounded themselves in, the wind knocked out of Tav’s lungs as she stood in disbelief, this wizard had stood and confessed the dirty things he wished to do to her and just walked off like she wasn’t standing there dumbfounded with wet panties, a pitied pat on her back from Karlach and a “No luck soldier” thrown her way brought her crashing back to reality, shaking off the daze he had thrown her into Tav quickly gathered herself and assisted the party in ransacking bodies for valuables.

Only after they had assisted Shadowheart in abandoning Shar and freeing the Nightsong did anything from that night of battle come to fruition. Returning to camp after freeing the Nightsong Tav found a mirror image of Gale standing in his tent where the real Gale should have been, given instructions by the rather goofy mirror image was she transported to a clearing in some woods and there in front of her he sat, staring up to the stars on his blanket he had spread out for the both of them to rest on. All the thoughts of that night came rushing back to Tav in an instant her body and mind remembering all the things she wanted to do to that man that night as he had stood dangling the prospect of a night of passion in front of her face. Turning round to look at who had joined him his smile set her core ablaze. She knew he wished to speak to her of his given mission from Mystra but all she simply wanted to do was spend a night under the stars with this man, this man who ignited such passion within her.

“I love this time of night.” Came his simple greeting as she allowed herself to sink to the floor beside him, “There’s almost a reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness when you’d almost believe the dawn will never break. The cradle of eternity.” Tav listened to the man’s poetry as he shifted his hand towards the sky, as if he himself was commanding the very stars himself she found herself staring at the beauty above her, unaware of Gale’s loving gaze, “The timelessness of lovers. The most beautiful of fantasies.” She was lost in his words, listening to this man seduce her with utter poetry made her melt, desperate to be consumed with him. As they spoke of his mission from Mystra, Tav noticed Gale becoming consumed by his need to flaunt his magic talents offering a night amongst the stars with her, but Tav was not swayed, she simply wanted this man in the most carnal, human way possible.

Standing, Tav dragged him to his feet willing to show her commitment to the moral man that the hunger inside her from that night had reignited full force, gazing at him with hooded eyes she slowly slunk to her knee’s gentle touches down his legs on her way down. Gazing up at him revealed just how touch starved Gale was, his fists clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from the true desire he craved, with a smile she gave him her full permission, “Don’t be afraid Gale, I won’t break, use me as you please.” With a swift hand grabbing her hair to force her back to her feet and his lips crashing into hers in a desperate kiss she paced backwards at his command, finding the backs of her legs hitting a soft bed.

Allowing herself to fall backwards out of his grasp, she fell backwards onto a rather soft, cushioned bed, gazing up at him taking in his dishevelled appearance, the usual put together wizard was panting, looking down at her with raw desire in his eyes that tried to convey every single way he wanted to take her, she definitely wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

Kneeling between her legs, his hands slowly trailing their way up to the waistband of her sleep clothes, looking to her with a plea, begging to let him remove the barrier and let him have his way with her. Her own hands shifting down to help him shimmy her trousers and underclothes down with them, his soft hands returning to her hips to caress her hips, “You are more beautiful than any skyline my hands could ever conjure.” Readying herself to reply to his compliments Tav was swiftly cut off with a kiss to her mound, her hips reaching up to meet him but a surprisingly strong arm clamping over her hips to prevent their movement fixed her to the bed below. His comments of a practised tongue came flashing back to her mind as he carefully took her clit into his mouth, laving it with all the attention she desired moaning into the night as her hands found their way into his hair threatening to rip the locks from his hair if he even dared thinking of stopping, her hips fought against him as he brought her closer and closer to her peak, and just before she got there he pressed a soft kiss to her mound and pulled away as much as her tight grip would allow him to.

“I’m sorry love, I know you don’t want me to stop but the only place you’ll be coming tonight is around my cock.” He was almost staring into her soul as he looked up, his beard drenched in her juices and all she wanted in that moment was to kiss him, let her taste herself on his lips.

Making his way up her body, gentle kisses and touches as he went, feeling his way along her hips, up her sides, to her breasts, committing her entire body to his memory before arriving at her lips, teasing him tongue at her entrance allowing her the opportunity to pull away if she found this uncomfortable in any way, but his doubts were quickly squashed with her lips connecting with his, drinking in her taste on his lips allowing herself to taste herself on his tongue. “Please Gale.” She pulled away, begging for the release she craved, release only he could give her.

Giving her a soft parting peck he knelt above her, removing his own clothing making a bit of a show of it with each piece of removed clothing, letting her hands roam his body to discover all parts of him, everything. Leaning back down he gently kissed her body before guiding himself to her entrance, holding eye contact as he gently slid in, allowing himself to moan out as he bottomed out, stilling inside of her finally slipping inside of her felt like absolute heaven and it took all of his willpower to not cum there and then. “You feel absolutely divine my love, you feel absolutely amazing.” He moaned into her mouth, kissing her softly she felt like putty in his hands, “Gale please I need you to move.” The words were gasped out as he began thrusting, like he had knocked the wind out her lungs with the force, her once words were reduced to moans and gasps, grasping onto his shoulders clawing at skin at the overwhelming pleasure.

Although she had had a number of fantasies and dreams about this moment, but nothing she had dreamed or fantasised could compare to being here with Gale, letting herself be consumed with the overwhelming feeling of Gale. He was all encompassing, he was everywhere all at once, in front of her, surrounding her, inside her, grasping at his shoulders trying to take him in deeper to become one with him, “I’m not going to last much longer love.” Gale gasped out as his hand reached down to circle her clit, suddenly it was stars surrounding her, not so dissimilar to the stars he had conjured for her, stars and then blinding white with gasp Tav let go, let herself be all consumed.

Back to reality, a sweaty and sated Gale lay atop her holding him closer as she ran her hands along his spine, helping to bring the man down from his high. Gentle breathing and soft kisses to her chest, she gazed down at him as he looked up at her with nothing but love in his eyes, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.” His hand reaching up to stroke her face, she could do nothing but smile at this man and his genuine love for her, such as soft man that she felt nothing but the utmost love for.

“Hope you know, we aren’t done just yet.” His smirk returned as he slid himself down, ready to continue their escapades into the wee hours of the morning, Tav definitely was not getting any sleep tonight.

Cross Posted on Ao3 - jacethed00d

#gale x reader #gale x tav #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #smut #gale smut #bg3 tav #tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fem reader #gale x female tav #gale x female reader #fem tav

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lmnlad · 1 month

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old // meltdown . 炉心融解 - iroha(sasaki) beached but give it drama. extras under the cut! reblogs are appreciated!

#lad.art #i used only one brush could you believe that #thats me in my junior prom dress #lad.rei

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snekdood · 5 months

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me and my boyfriend were having a conversation earlier about how creepy my dad is and how he 1 used to spy on my mom w binoculars in his car across the street after their divorce (she got a restraining order luckily) but also 2 i remember him threatening to kill my mom and her current husband and i said something about how "i used to be scared i'd see him outside of my window watching me, even though he would probably just go after my mom i was worried he might try to kidnap me-"

and then it all clicked for me. the reason zero is the way he is is bc of my dad. the reason my comic is the way it is is bc of my fucking dad!

#like yeah he has elements of my brother and sister too but ultimately they suck bc of my dad. esp my sister.#anyways hes maybe one of the worst ppl in the world actually!#vent #learning more and more that if someone reminds me of my dad? i gotta fucking avoid the shit out of them. my sister does. my brother does.#and so does my abusive ex. i just remmebered getting that weird vague feeling when i was with them but brushed it off. I really fuckin #shouldn't've though goddamn. right down to the compulsive lying and extreme manipulation tactics. oh and the wanting to kill me shit #bc i dare make them ever view themselves in a critical light ig.#kinda like what happened with my mom and dad!!!!!!!!!!!!!! today has been rough emotionally :))))))))))))))))))))#wish i could say its empty threats but hes an actual republican and has a shit ton of guns so yeah. doesnt matter how empty it is #everyones still gonna assume the worse when you're compiling guns and talking about killing someone you claimed to fucking love #and for him? it really was all about losing power over her. if he couldnt have her no one did. which was ironic bc he never even #fully appreciated her when he was with her and made fatphobic jokes about her. but suddenly she wants to leave and its an issue?#ig when the person you claim to find so unappealing rejects you too it bruises harder if you're a narcissist who relies on building #yourself up by putting people you claim to care about down.#and then he used me and my siblings as pawns in his game. in his 'war' against my mom.#this is why my ex has been so predictable this whole time... ive literally lived through it. it was LITERALLY my childhood #everyone but me believed him when he started making justifications for the way he physically abused her. but thats the #thing about ppl who are abusive in this way- slowly everyone starts to realize they're lying. and the only ones who stick around #are the ride or dies with no standards for themselves.

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maccreadysbaby · 7 months

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Some of My Favorite Ways to Describe a Character Who’s Sick

pressing their forehead into something cool or comfortable (this could be an array of things. the table, the floor, someones leather jacket, their water bottle, the countertop)

warm to the touch, or heat radiating from them (could be noticed if someone’s gauging their temperature with their hands, hugging them, or just generally touching them)

leaning into people’s touch, or just spontaneously leaning on them (like pressing into their hand when someone’s checking their temp, or just, like, literally walking up and laying their head on them from fatigue. bonus points if the character is usually feral and the other is scared to engage™︎)

falling asleep all over the place (at the dinner table, on their homework, in the car, in the bathroom — just being so exhausted from doing literally nothing)

being overly emotional (crying over things that don’t usually bother them, like their siblings arguing, or their homework, or literally just nothing)

stumbling/careening/staggering into things (the wall, furniture, other people. there is no coordination in feverish brains. running into chairs, hitting the door, falling over the couch, anything and everything)

slurring their words (could be from fatigue or pain. connecting words that shouldn’t be connected, murdering all of their conversations with the excessive use of ‘mm’ and ‘nn’ in place of words) (this is my favorite thing ever)

being overly touchy (basically like a sick kid — just hold them, please. do that thing where you brush their hair back out of their face, or rub circles on their back, or snuggle them. they won’t care. bonus points if this is also the feral character and they refuse to believe it afterwards)

being extremely resistant to touch (flinching away when they usually don’t so someone can’t feel the fever, not letting themselves be touched because they’re so tired they just know they’ll be putty in their hands if they do)

growing aggressive or being extremely rude (it’s a defense mechanism — they feel vulnerable and are afraid of being manipulated or deceived while they’re ill)

whimpering/whining/groaning (this was in my “characters in pain” post but it’s so good that i’m putting it here too. this shite is gold, especially if it’s just an involuntary reaction to their symptoms)

having nightmares caused by a fever and/or delirium (crying and murmuring in their sleep, or being awake but completely out of it and convinced they’re somewhere else)

making themselves as small as possible (curling up into a ball everywhere they lay, hunching over slightly when standing, wrapping their arms around themselves)

TW for vomiting below cut !!

sleeping in the bathroom floor because they keep getting sick over and over (bonus if someone finds them all weak and pitiful. bonus bonus if they find them there in the morning only to learn they’ve been there all night)

using their hands/other body parts to clamp over their mouth so nothing can come out (like pulling their knees up to their chest and using that, or like, their arm, y’know) (~maccreadysbaby who has emetophobia suddenly gets very awkward about this post~) (~yes i have a phobia of puke and still write this happening to my characters, shut up~) (~it’s about the hurt/comfort okay~)

sympathy pukers (people who aren’t the sick ones but get nauseous/vomit when they see someone else throw up) (~aka me~) (~okay I’m done now~)

dry heaving (it’s gross, but good for making your characters absolutely freaking miserable)

rolling/churning/spinning/cramping/ lurching and all those awesome words that describe what stomachs do when sick (i hate these words with a deep, fiery passion. but they’re good for writing or whatever)

#writing angst #creative writing #writing #writers #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing tips #writing help #word bank

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sweet-as-an-angel · 4 months

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so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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cherienymphe · 5 months

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A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque

summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.

You thought that it was over when you won.

That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.

Try your best to put him behind you.

So, why were you still being tormented?

When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.

…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.

“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.

His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.

“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.

The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.

…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.

“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.

That was all the confirmation you needed, really.

…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.

Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.

…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.

Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.

“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”

You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.

It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…

You’d die.

A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.

That was all.

You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.

So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.

At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.

“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.

Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.

“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.

The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.

If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.

You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.

That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.

Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.

You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.

You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.

“Of course.”

You didn’t know if you believed him.

…and Coriolanus could tell.

You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.

Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.

They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.

Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.

Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.

You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.

“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.

It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.

“…and why not?”

“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”

Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.

For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.

“…and if it does?”

He continued when you frowned.

“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”

“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”

You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.

“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”

The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.

You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.

You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.

“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”

You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.

“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”

His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.

“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”

You swallowed.

“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”

Another step towards you.

“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.

Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.

“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”

You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.

“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.

Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.

…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.

Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.

The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.

Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.

Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.

Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.

The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.

This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.

When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.

When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.

You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.

Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.

After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.

“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.

The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.

“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”

You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.

“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.

“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”

You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.

“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”

Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.

“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.

When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.

It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.

“I want you there with me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.

That thought did make tears spill over.

It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.

Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.

“I want you there with me,” he repeated.

You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.

“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.

His response was swift and clipped.

“You belong with me.”

When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.

Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.

You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.

When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.

You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.

“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”

You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.

You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.

He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.

When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.

You even thought you saw snow.

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