#i'm more confident on here than i am Anywhere else

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

[helaelaemond]

Hello 💜 Can we please get someone bold enough to sneak into Aemond's chambers (maybe a lady-in-waiting, servant, writer's choice) and smutty shenanigans ensue?? 👀

tysm for the prompt my angel!!

Pairing: Aemond x servant!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: You have had one moment of passion with Prince Aemond before, and you find yourself wanting another. So you go to his chambers, and find him willing. Wanting. - Heterosexual sex, vaginal sex, possessive Aemond

Warnings: none

It's late, too late for you to be anywhere but your own bed. Although the lights outside have faded to black, there is a fire between your thighs, and you seek the one who has sparked it.

It is the elder brother known for depravity. He takes what he wants and doesn't care for the whims of his targets. The young brother isn't like that, though. When he had first taken you roughly by the throat and pinned you to the wall, he had waited for you to say yes before continuing. Soon, he had you not just consenting but begging.

So that's why you slip into the prince's chamber under the guise of a full plate and flagon of wine. It's a sweet pink wine, less strong than the Arbour red his brother seeks oblivion with. Prince Aemond is sat in front of the great fireplace, and he turns his head to watch you slip in. His eye is fixed on you as you set the food down on the table and pour a cup of wine. With your gaze on the floor, you walk over to him and present it to him.

"I did not summon you." His voice is quiet. He looks at the cup, and then back at your face. He doesn't take it.

"No, my prince, you didn't." His voice is like silk over your skin, slipping across it and holding you fast.

"Then why did you come?"

"To serve."

His lips quirk up at that. "Try again."

Your eyes flick up to meet his. His silver hair almost looks gold in the light of the flames. "To take."

"Hmm."

With more boldness than you actually feel, you raise the cup brought for him to your own lips, and take a long sip.

"Is it just my wine you wish to take?" he asks.

You lick your lips. "What else are you willing to give?"

"Well, that's the thing about taking, isn't it? It can't be taken if it's freely given."

You try to hide your grin. Prince Aemond thinks he is far cleverer than he actually is. The folly of those born to high stations is misplaced confidence, you think. They always believe themselves to be the wisest and most intelligent people in any room they occupy. But they don't know anything, not really. "Oh, I don't know about that. I'd say you thoroughly took what was freely given."

Prince Aemond reaches out a hand and touches your skirt. "It matters not whether it was freely given or otherwise. As you said, you come here to serve."

"I am a servant, not a slave," you reply as you take a step back.

He watches you intently. "You think there is a difference?"

"You think there is not?"

"I still have my free will, my prince."

"Is that so?"

You nod.

"So if you wished to leave, you would, even if I commanded you to stay?" He stands up and takes a step towards you.

You have to tilt your chin up to look at him. "Why would you command me to stay?"

"For the same reason you came in the first place."

"What if I've changed my mind?"

He gently grasps your chin and brings his face closer to yours. You hate how being this close to him makes your eyes close. "Then we return to the matter of taking what is not freely given."

"I don't think you'd do that to me," you breathe. "You are not your brother."

"Hmm. Do you wish I was?"

"Do you wish that?"

His touch is rougher. Suddenly, he spins you in his arms and the cup of wine goes flying from your hands and clatters on the floor. Some spills into the fire, and it spits angrily. The prince's arms wrap around you possessively to pull your back against his chest. "You forget yourself, wench."

"I'm no wench," you remind him smugly. "You don't pay me for my cunt."

When he hisses against your ear, you press back against him. "Perhaps I should. Perhaps then you would remember your place."

"And what is my place, my prince?" You cover his hands with your own, and grasp his fingers through yours. It's satisfying how quickly he welcomes the touch.

"To not ask questions."

You laugh breathlessly. Against your backside, you can feel something hard press between you. He's as eager as a virgin. He was like that last time, too. A few exchanged words, one heated embrace, and he was aching. Perhaps he's neglected, touch starved. Ladies of the court are too afraid to approach him, and servants can't even look upon his face. It is lonely, perhaps, to be feared like this. Fear has always made you wet.

"You think I'm funny?" he asks between wet kisses to your neck. One hand moves to press between your legs over your linen uniform. The other tears off the cap you wear, and your hair falls free.

"I think you're needier than any man I've ever had before."

He bites the seam of your neck and shoulder. "You have other men?"

His attentions make your eyes close. "Of course. My favourite is one of the stable hands. He brings me flowers."

"I shall cut off his hands so he can do it no longer."

"Why?" you ask breathlessly. He is grinding hard against you now, rubbing his cock to your backside in steady thrusts that make you clench desperately around nothing. "Are you going to bring me flowers instead?"

"No." With one hand still applying pressure between your legs, the other roughly grabs your jaw and turns you to catch his deep kiss. It's messy, possessive, deep. He can taste the sweet wine on your tongue. You taste the fire on his. He groans between sloppy kisses. "But that doesn't mean someone else can."

Kisses have always been your weakness. You can't come without them. Prince Aemond found that out last time. Now, they're his weapon. Suddenly his hands are gone from you and he clasps them behind his back, and he seems to relish how quickly you turn around to properly face him and grab him. This time, it's your arms that hold him close - one is thrown around his neck to drag him down to you, and the other is around his narrow waist. He's more slender than you, and sharper, too. Last time, he swore how much he liked that you were soft and warm for him.

His breathing is raggedy against your intense kisses. His voice is no louder than a whisper. "Take off your fucking uniform."

Without missing a beat, you reply, "take it off for me."

That makes his head jerk back, and you see him bite his lip. He looks conflicted as he stares down at you with his one good eye. How much you want to see him without his eye patch. But that is the line he has drawn - that is something he will not share with you. Still, after a moment, he obeys you, and pulls off the red overdress, and then the pale shift beneath.

"No undergarments?" he murmurs as you stand bare before him, only your stockings and shoes still on. You wear the stockings that you paid a gold dragon for - there are silk ribbons at the top to keep them clinging to your thighs, and they're blue. Everyone knows a sapphire has replaced Prince Aemond's eye.

"I'd hoped to see my stable man," you lie.

It makes his lip twitch, and he shoves you roughly to the table where the food is long forgotten. "I'll cut off his cock, too."

"You want to be the only one who fucks me, my prince?"

"What did I tell you about questions?" As he gives you another burning kiss, he fumbles with his breeches. You hop onto the table and spread your legs wide for him, and as he sinks into you, you play with yourself.

"Oh, fuck!" you whine. He fits into you like he was made for you.

The mighty Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, lord of the skies, is reduced to a panting mess between your thighs. "You want this?"

"Yes!" The reply is ripped from you before you even have time to think. He holds your hips as he fucks you on the table. In the quiet chamber, the sound of wet skin slapping is obscene, especially mingled with his deep grunts and your high sighs. "Kiss me! Please!"

The prince doesn't. Instead, he wraps one hand around your throat again - how much he loves to do that, you think - and makes you lie back on the table. It's hard and uncomfortable, and you have to arch your spine to be comfortable. The change in angle is good, though. It means he can be faster, harder, deeper. With you where he wants you, he runs his hand to your chest and palms your breast hard. Then, he does kiss you, but not where you want him. His lips find your neck again, and then your shoulder. When he bites your collarbone, you wrap your legs around his hips.

What a sight you must be. How much you'd like to watch this, you think - you completely bare, the prince fully clothed. Even his hair is still worn half-up. Enough is loose to spill onto your chest when he suckles on your breast, though. It'll bruise, no doubt. Prince Aemond will never bring you flowers, but he'll give you blooms under your skin.

He pounds into you relentlessly. When he stands upright, he tries to push away your hand and drive the pleasure himself.

"You don't do it right," you whine, slapping his hand.

"Show me."

"No. Just- shit! Just keep fucking- oh, Gods, just keep fucking me!"

"Show me."

He's so demanding, so determined to learn. So as he pounds his cock into your cunt, you let his hand cover yours over your clit as you rub the flat of your fingers hard and fast. It's not gentle or teasing, not careful - it's hard, pushing yourself between your digits and the bones beneath. A testament to how high he's pushing you.

"I've got it," he grunts.

You fling your arms over your head and let him take over. "Harder," you moan. He obeys. But he's afraid of hurting you. "Harder!"

He glances up at your face with uncertainty in his eye.

"Fucking harder, my prince!" When his fingers are hard enough to bruise, you cry out in approval. "Yes! Yes, just like that! Oh, gods- don't- don't stop!"

The tightness of impeding completion scurries up and down your thighs until they're tight and heavy with it, and your stomach aches. It's coming quickly, but no matter how good he is, how attentive, there's something more you need.

Your body's response to his harsh ministrations pushes him over the edge first. He barely pulls out in time to come across your hip. He pants and groans, his seed as white as his hair. But he's good to you, and even as his orgasm makes his eye roll back and stomach tense and thighs shake, he rubs your cunt fiercely. There's incredible self control in the way he doesn't falter in the rhythm you set together.

"Kiss me!" you beg. The sight and sound of his completion is almost enough to push you over the edge, but you need that pressure, you need that taste, you need-

His mouth takes yours roughly again. It's all lips and tongue and teeth, as hard here as his hand between your legs. It chokes you, steals your breath, blinds you. When you come, you scream for the gods. He rubs you harshly through it, kissing you as you writhe and squirm, as your legs tense and clutch him closer.

"Fuck!" you cry. Tears leak from your eyes. "Stop, stop!"

Prince Aemond stills his hand but keeps it pressed against you. You're glad for the pressure. "I can feel your heart racing here."

You moan softly, and laugh. "Yes, my prince. There's a heartbeat between your thighs, too."

You stretch on the tabletop, and watch as he tucks himself back into his breeches. There's the glisten of seed on his cock still, and you wish he'd let you suck him clean. Instead, you catch his spend on your hip, and trace small patterns with it. He glances at you and sees you lick your finger clean.

"Don't do that."

"Mm. Why not?"

"It is filth."

"It is dragonseed. Is that not sacred?"

He snorts. But still, when you pull him down to kiss warmly, he doesn't protest. "Mmph. It's bitter."

You smile against his lips. "Then eat more fruit. Be sweeter for me."

Prince Aemond is more tender with you this time. Last time, he had seemed ashamed for what you had shared together, and he had sent you quickly from his chambers. This time, though, he enjoys kissing you. He touches the bruises his lips left in moments of passion, and he leaves you only to find a damp cloth to wipe off his spend.

"You would make a fine servant," you giggle as he cleans you. You're still lying back on the table. Maybe when he dines here with his mother and sister tomorrow, he'll think of fucking you again. "So dutiful."

"And you would make a fine lady," he murmurs. "So brazen."

"Do you like your ladies brazen?"

He answers quickly and quietly. "No. But I like you."

Of all the obscene moments you've shared with him, this is the one that makes you blush. "Well then, it is good I was born low, and you were born high. If this is the only way I can have you, so be it."

"You think you have me?" he asks, his brow arched.

You grin up at him, and hold his sweaty hand. "Certainly. I have taken you, after all."

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Nine

Summary: The morning after has a bit of a rude awakening but he's not gonna let that get between the two of you Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 2.4k~ Warnings: Hinting at smut but yeah not in explicit detail. a/n: Okay so I didn't realize I already had half of this chapter written so I finished it up today. I hope you guys enjoy and are looking forward to the next chapter 🤭 p.s. not edited at all cuz I'm feeling lazy today and I've got stuff to do 😅 Start from the beginning

My eyes flutter open when I start to stir awake and the first think I notice is the strong arm around my waist and the soft puffs of air fanning my neck giving me a ticklish sort of feeling. I try to bring my brain up to speed and remember what happened last night and when I take a peek under the blankets and see the tattoos on the arm around me I know that I'm safe. 

"Noona?" he mumbles behind me and I hum to let him know I'm listening. "Good morning" he say, the deep tone of his voice now sending shockwaves through my system and when he pulls me closer to him I let out a quite yelp in response feeling utterly mortified when he chuckles, kissing my shoulder and nuzzling into my neck. 

"Did you sleep well?" he asks and I nod my head, "Better than I have in a really long time actually" I admit and he continues to place a few lazy kisses on my neck. "Really did a number on you last night huh?" he smiles against my skin and I scoff and try to get out of bed but he tightens his hold on me before I can get too far. 

"Where are you going?" he asks, continuing to pepper kisses all along my neck and shoulder, making me lose any sort of motivation I had to leave the bed just a few seconds ago. "Breakfast?" I say and he chuckles before putting me on my back and hovering over me with a cunning look in his eye. 

"I was about to have mine so why don't you just relax yeah? Wanna make you feel good" he says, kissing me and caressing my waist making me give in with little protest. "What time is it?" I asks between kisses and he glances at the clock on my nightstand. "Early" he says, clearly showing he has no where to be except for right here in this bed with me.

"You don't have work?" I ask, knowing he's pretty busy with everything he has going on in his life. "Not till later" he says and goes back to kissing me and because I don't have anywhere else to be either I give in.

He kisses his way down my body, garnering soft sounds of pleasure from my lips already and I can tell that it gives him a sense of confidence, making him want to keep going even more. 

"Didn't know you would sound so sweet in the morning Noona" he teases and I chuckle. "Didn't know you would be so needy in the morning" I retort and he smirks and continues his down ward trail until he settles between my legs. 

"You sure I'm the one that's needy?" he asks, staring at my center and seeing how undoubtably wet I am. "It's your fault" I grumble and he chuckles "Good because I'm the only one who's gonna make you wet like this from now on yeah?" he asks, kissing the inside of my thigh and biting down on it when I don't answer, hypnotized by the sight in front of me.

"Only you" I respond and he smiles against my skin, licking the spot he had just bit before going on and doing the same to my other thigh, still taking his time and making sure I'm dripping for him.

~~~~

After he's thoroughly ravished me and gone another round...or two I'm left in a slumped daze, glassy eyed and ready to pass out again but it's well past ten in the morning and we still haven't left the bed yet. 

"I forgot that younger guys have a higher sex drive" I mumble and he laughs, his head on my chest while I run my fingers through his hair, "You keep calling me young but we're only six years apart" he replies drawing patterns on my skin but I sit up making him roll onto his back and look up at my clearly confused expression. 

"You're twenty two?" I say in disbelief, clearly misjudging his age. "Yeah I thought you new that" he says, resting on his forearms. "How old did you think I was?" he asks and I run my fingers through my hair, having some what of a crisis at the thought of this. 

"I don't know twenty four, twenty five. But twenty two? You seem so mature though and with all the tattoos and piercings I just thought you would've been a little bit older. Not older than me but still at least a little older" I say and the room falls silent for a bit, the tension palpable and this time not in a good way. 

"Is my age gonna be a problem for you?" he asks, getting worried now that he's seeing the way I'm reacting to it, the silence and the somewhat distressed look on my face being a clear sign that something isn't right. 

"Well no it's just...Jungkook I'm gonna be turning twenty nine this year" I say and he nods his head. "I know, and I'm turning twenty three" he says, trying to make light of the situation but I'm still worried that he might be a little in over his head. 

"I'm a married, well about to be a divorced woman and I don't really want to be playing games anymore when it comes to finding a partner" I say and he nods his head, listening and not jumping in to argue which just shows another reason as to why I thought he was older. 

"I'm not interested in getting into a casual relationship and even though I'm going to be coming out of this traumatizing marriage, if I'm going to be in a relationship with someone then I need to know that they're going to be serious about us" I say and trail off, not really knowing what else to say. 

"I am serious about us" he says, sitting up and cupping my face, not giving me a chance to shut him out. "Jungkook you're still young. You have your whole life ahead of you and I don't think you wanna be tied down to a divorced woman who is honestly really unstable right now. And on top of that is about to have a psycho ex husband" I say, looking down at my lap, feeling bad that I let him get so close to me. 

"Don't do that" he says and I look up at him again, "Do what?". "Think about how to let me down easy and tell me you're sorry you let things go this far" he says and I can't argue that that was where my mind was about to wander. 

"I know our age difference, I know about your soon to be ex husband and I know that you're not healed yet. I promise you, I've thought about this a lot before ever allowing myself to get too close to you" he says, his tone level and face desperate for me to not leave him when we've only just started. 

"You don't have to say anything now, but I want you to know you're not getting rid of me that easily" he says with a sad smile, nervous that I might actually try to push him away but when he makes moves to get up I grab his wrist. 

"Where are you going?" I ask, my voice in a panic, not wanting to leave things this tense between us. "Breakfast? Or do you wanna shower first?" he asks, getting back onto the bed and guiding me back down, him now peppering kisses along my already thoroughly  marked neck, no doubt a conscious effort to hide the bruises from Taehyung. 

"I think I'll s-shower" I stutter and when he smiles against my skin and picks me up I quickly have to correct him. "Alone...is that okay?" I ask, a sign of the need for approval being something concerning for him rather than cute. 

"You don't have to ask for my permission Noona, especially for something like this. I respect your wants and boundaries so if you wanna shower by yourself that's your decision" he explains and places me down on my feet before turning on the water for me to warm it up. 

"Although I won't deny it when I say I'll miss you...but I'll take one later" he says with what I would call an adorable smile if he wasn't standing in front of me completely naked, having fucked me senseless at least four or five times in less than twelve hours...I've lost track at this point.

He places a hand on my bare waist and places a kiss on my forehead before leaving to give me space. 

When I come out of the bedroom, completely dried off except for my towel dried hair I find him wandering about my kitchen and making us some ramen for breakfast...well lunch since he kept me in bed for so long.

He notices my presence after I had been standing there for a while, looking up at me and smiling softly. I can't even remember the last time someone has looked at me like. 

"Did you have a nice shower?" he asks, taking the ramen off the stove and bringing it over to the table, placing a hot dish under to prevent the table from getting ruined. "Yeah, it was warm" I say, wrapping my arms around myself when I catch a sudden chill which he notices pulls me in, wrapping me in his warmth for a second before letting me go and leading me over to the table. 

"Let's eat before it gets soggy" he says and I nod, agreeing and taking a seat while he goes around to the other side so he can sit across from me. 

"What time do you have work?" I ask after we've eaten in a comfortable silence for a while. "Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?" he says after he's finished chewing, taking a drink of water and sitting back a bit, shamelessly checking me out for absolutely no apparent reason other than to make me nervous. 

"No, I just wanted to know since you said you didn't have to work until later" I roll my eyes, taking a drink of water and standing up to pour the rest of the unused broth down the drain. "I technically don't have work but it might as well be work" he says making me glance over at him suspiciously, wordlessly asking him to explain. 

"I have to watch my siblings tonight since my mom is working the late shift" he explains and I nod my head, still so curious about them since he hasn't told me much about his family. 

"You could come with me if you want?" he offers I splash water on myself, surprised that he would suggest that already. "Come with you? To your house? To meet your family?" I ask, my pulse picking up at the thought of it. I don't know why that makes me so nervous but maybe it's because I haven't met anyone new in a while, let alone my boyfriend's family...

Can I even call him that yet?

"You don't have to. I just thought I would offer since I didn't know if you'd wanna be home alone after everything that happened last night" he says and I can tell from that alone that he really does have pure intentions behind it.

"You don't think it's too soon? Plus what about this?" I ask, pointing out my very clearly love bitten neck and he chuckles, clearly enjoying the external struggle I'm having in front of him as if he wasn't the cause. 

"You have a turtle neck yeah?" he asks, heading into my room with me trailing behind him sighing and deciding I'll go since I really don't wanna stay here by myself. "Yeah I guess I could wear one" I mumble pulling one out of my closet and grabbing a few more things to complete the outfit.

When I turn around I see him sitting down on my bed with his legs spread as if he were ready to watch me strip. "What are you doing?" I ask, both of us knowing damn well what he's doing but playing the game anyway. "Watching...waiting" he answers, leaning back on his hands and dragging his eyes up and down my figure. 

I give in just a bit, slipping my shirt off over my head and revealing the fact that I'm not wearing a bra but he clocked it when I first came out. I walk over to him, his eyes having been staring at the change to looking up at me, grabbing my hips once I get closer. 

"Sit down yeah?" he asks, wanting to go again since from what he told me it had been a while since the last time he had been with anyone, completely obsessed with making me cum but I don't give in this time and shake my head which results in a very cute pout from him. 

"Just for a little bit?" he asks as if I would ever believe him but with the way he's started to play and kiss my breasts it makes me start to second guess my stance. "I don't wanna have to take another shower" I say, stepping back and making him even poutier from having thoroughly tease himself and can clearly see how worked up he's started to get me but I choose to ignore it. 

I can't give in every time he wants to have sex right? No matter how good he makes me feel...

"Come on go shower, I'll wash your clothes" I say and grab one of his hands and lead him towards the bathroom. He sighs and starts stripping leaving me looking away, as if I hadn't seen it all just a few hours ago. 

"Are you shy now?" he teases and tosses his clothes at my feet, making me look down and grab them quickly. "No I just didn't want to stare" I explain but shoot myself in the foot since I basically admitted that I would stare at his naked body if he let me, which he probably would. 

"You can if you want to, I won't be embarrassed" he taunts, immediately proving my point. "Just go shower you pervert" I sigh and pick up his clothes, quickly shutting the door behind me, gaining me a few faint chuckles in response before I hear the shower turn on.

He's gonna be the death of me.

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[lalovi]

Hello! Is it okay if I request Royal Margarine Cookie or Capsaicin Cookie x (gender neutral) reader who seems to be all strict and stern yet ends up being easy to fluster (sorry if this is long! But i hope you understand 😭😢)

AN: I hope you don't mind that I made this a multiple char fic- 😓

``I am not blushing!``

Multiple x GN! Reader

ROYAL MARGARINE, Affogato, Prune Juice, AVENTURINE, HEIZOU, DAZAI, Rui Kamishiro

Warnings: none

"Come now, there's no need to be so serious!" He grinned, lifting his head with an almost taunting aura.

You crossed your arms, brows knitting in annoyance. "We are not dropping this. Punctuality should be a priority!"

A low chuckle escaped him. "You won't forgive me for being only a few minutes late?"

Your expression only grew more agitated from here. The shamelessness of this man is truely extraordinary. Though as his gaze continued to burn into you, your confidence began to waver.

"I just think-" your eyes wander off of him and instead shift to somewhere else. Anywhere else, really. As long as it wasn't him since you knew his glare and Cheshire grin were all it took for you to break. "I just think you should aim to be on time."

He seemed amused by you.

But why? It's not like you said anything funny.

"Oh my... are you still not going to forgive me?" He inched closer to you; so close that his scent began to haze your mind.

Your mouth opened slightly as if you were going to respond, yet all that came out was a single, broken, shaky breath.

"Maybe you'll forgive me if I were to..." His lips met yours in an instant, and they lingered there for a moment before he pulled away.

"Sweet." He mumbled to himself.

You were a mess. You had just been scolding him a second ago, hadn't you? Why was he the one in controll now? And just why did you have to fold under his charm so quickly?

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

His lips tugged into a snide smile as he observed your pathetic attempt at hiding the blush on your face. "Are you doing alright? You seem a bit redder than before."

"I'm doing fine." You still couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye.

"Really? I thought my teasing had become too much for you and you had started blushing or something.."

"I am not blushing!"

His teasing grin only widened, though it seemed like he decided to drop it in the end. "Of course. You never get flustered, after all."

You didn't say much; only uttering a "you suck," under your breath to which he immediately began laughing at.

"Well now that we have this settled, why don't we start on the actual reason for our meetup?"

《☆》 End

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I have a little bit of an interesting question! I know you stated you like writing horror and NSFW, or at least you do not mind dabbling in them, so I'm curious to your opinion:

(Please, very important onto this, keep in mind that, when I ask about 'Yandere', while yes, I mean this lovesick, obsessed character who goes to kidnapping/harming others/threatening/killing etc extremes to get the object of their affection/obsession, there's many yandere types. I PERSONALLY like only a handful of them because I am very careful with TW (I do not like toxic relationships where the 'darling' is deprived of privacy, is mistreated, forced to do things, has hands laid on them, has their emotional well being messed up by demeaning words, etc, and I do not enjoy abuse depictions of the trope either, so I cherry-pick a lot (due to personal trauma). Yanderes are often portrayed as straight up abusive when they needn't be, there's delusional ones, lucid ones who do not want to feel the way they do, others who rather give themselves to the object of obsession/affection and would rather hurt themselves than ever upset them, others who lean more towards manipulation, etc.). I say this because TW are important and while this is 'just a question in a blog' I want to inform you that there is NO EXPECTATION for you to write abuse, toxicity or anything of the sort. While being WELL AWARE that yandere relationships WILL be unhealthy in nature, it is that kind of 'unhealthy possessive' vibe you can enjoy IN FICTION, and should NEVER allow in real life. Take care of yourselves ❤️)

Obviously, none of the characters are canonically yandere, but do you have any opinions on who could fit the bill? And how/what way/what category they'd fit into?

Please ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable in any way and even if you simply respond without any headcanons/just a little ramble, remember to put TW so people who blacklist yandere stuff or feel trigger by any of it continue having a safe space here! Love your blog and what you do! Keep up the amazing work, and congratulations on such endless artistic talent!!

I haven't done a whole lot with the Yandere trope. I have one unpublished fan fiction for another fandom entirely that involves a yandere character in an antagonistic role. I don't tend to romanticize it because of how problematic it can be.

So needless to say, ⚠️ trigger warnings ⚠️ ahead for this topic, some more than others (lookin' at you, Doffy).

I feel like Sanji could fit the bill of being the lucid, regretful yandere. He knows that his obsession with you could be problematic, but he just can't help it. He gets insecure and jealous easily, and may be inclined to threaten any other men that happen to get to close to his beloved, platonically or romantically. He wants you completely to himself. Would be apologetic about his behavior and feel sincerely guilty for it, but just unable to keep himself from doing so. He also feels his behavior is protecting you in a way from being taken advantage of, and that's the only justification he can make for it—even to himself.

Mihawk, while his confidence and ego mean he's not really the jealous type, would still be a worthy candidate. He wants you aware that you are his in every sense of the word. You, your love, your mind, your body, all belong to him. No one else. He may very well be violent about it, though not toward you—just toward anyone who dares challenge his ownership over you. Toward his lover, he would be particularly doting and gentle, treating you like a fragile and priceless work of art. He would be incredibly disinclined to allow you to go anywhere without him; and if he finds out anyone else is attempting to court your affections or, heaven forbid, hurt you, then their days are going to be numbered.

Next would be Crocodile. Getting more ⚠️triggery⚠️ here. Prime candidate for a possessive yandere. Even if he doesn't have much time for you, you're still his property. He'll expect you to have time for him, to adhere to his schedule and his whims. He'll have a list of rules that you have to follow—no speaking with other men without him present, no going out in public without him or a guard that he has personally assigned to you; this is as much for the sake of keeping you safe as it is to ensure that you don't do anything he would disapprove of. In exchange, he'll shower you with lavish gifts, and treat you like a princess when he is with you...but if you break the rules, there will be consequences.

And lastly, and by far the most triggery, Doflamingo. Congratulations, you've caught the attention of an absolutely sadistic and manipulative yandere! He values total control over all aspects of your life. But he's going to make you think you have some freedom at first. He'll pout a little if you want to go somewhere without him, but he'll allow it...on the surface, at least. Then he'll hire some thug or other criminal deviant to scare you right back into his arms, whether with idle threats or physical force. He'll make you feel like he's your only source of safety and comfort. Make you defend him to your concerned friends and family of your own volition, until you have absolutely no one left but him to turn to. He'll justify it by saying it absolutely is for your own safety, and he sincerely believes that to be true; even if he wasn't hiring people to frighten you, there's still every chance that you could be hurt or enticed to leave if you stray too far from his side, and he can't allow that. Whether he views you as a lover or just a plaything, no one else is allowed to touch you but him.

[amputeewomen]

Laila and Alex

Laila: (sitting comfortably) Alex, I need to talk to you about something important. I know this change is big – I'm an amputee now, but I want you to know that it's not the end of the world. I've got these crutches, see? And I'm learning to do everything I did before. I can even wear a high heel on my right foot again.

Alex: (takes her hand gently) Laila, you don't have to play super strong for me. I love you for who you are, not for what you can or cannot do. This change… it doesn't change how I feel about you. You're still the incredible person I fell in love with.

Laila: (smiles, a mix of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes) Thank you, Alex. That means the world to me. But, there's something else… I want you to be a part of this new journey with me. Would you… (pauses, takes a deep breath) Would you touch where my leg used to be? I need to know that you're okay with all of me, as I am now.

Alex: (nods, his eyes filled with compassion and love) Of course, Laila. (carefully places his hand where her leg used to be, looking into her eyes) I'm here for you, every step of this journey. We're in this together, and I love every part of you, always.

Laila: (leans in, tears of relief and love in her eyes) Thank you, Alex. Your support means everything to me. I love you so much.

Alex: I love you too, Laila. More than words can say. We'll get through this together.

Laila and Alex remain by the classical column, a moment frozen in time as they navigate the new realities of their life together. The sun casts a gentle glow on the scene, highlighting Laila's smile and the depth of emotion in their intertwined hands.

Laila: (her voice steady, eyes sparkling with resolve) You know, this spot right here, next to this column, it's going to be a place of new beginnings. I can feel it. I may need these crutches for a while, but I'm still going to be here, laughing, living, loving with you.

Alex: (with a warm, reassuring smile) And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. This column, these gardens, they've seen many seasons, just like we will. And just like it stands strong, so will we.

Laila: (glancing at her crutches, then back to Alex) They're just an accessory, like this denim jacket or these knee-high socks. They don't define me. They're a part of my journey, sure, but not the whole story.

Alex: (gazing into her eyes) You're incredible, you know that? You're taking on this challenge like you take on everything else – with courage and a style that's all your own. And I'm here, for every step, every victory, every hard day.

Laila: (reaching out to trace the outline of the column with her finger) Just like these pillars support this structure, we support each other. And with you by my side, I feel like I can do anything.

Alex: (leaning closer to her) With our love as our foundation, we'll hold each other up, no matter what comes our way.

They sit together in silent understanding, the serenity of the pond and the steadfastness of the column serving as silent witnesses to their unshakeable bond. With Alex's support, Laila feels a renewed sense of confidence, and together, they look towards a future filled with possibilities.

[luvscrazy]

"I can save you." Pt5

Katsuki Bakugo x Fem reader (Enemies to lovers)

Summary: (Preview if you wanna overlook the series idea, the quirk, and the timelines that will occur.) You were born with a medical quirk called Life-Link, which means you can transfer your vitality to others at any time. You decide to take it upon yourself to apply at U.A. What will happen with your non "Heroic" quirk, at this school? Will you achieve your dream of becoming a hero? or are you just useless, like you've been thinking?

Warnings: Minor Language. Mentions of death, most will be gory. (For future reference.)

Word Count: 842

Parts: Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Defying the Doubts

💥Since this exercise was done we all walked back to the locker rooms. We changed out of our sweaty clothes and took a shower afterward. I kept thinking about the hot-headed blonde’s words. It's funny how he has a lot to say about me, even though I don’t even know his name. Once we’re all done the class meets up once again to go back to classroom 1B. The teacher goes over how starting from tomorrow we will be placed in dorms. 

💥I’ve seen the dorm building before, it's huge. It was built after mass destruction left by former battles between heroes and villains. The building is right next to class 1-A’s building. I have a lot to pack when I get home. I look over at Kendo and Shio, and they look back at me. Maybe they know something about the blonde boy who insulted me. I walk over to them and wave slightly. 

💥“Do you guys happen to know anything about that blonde explosion boy from class 1-A?” I ask. 

💥They both stare at me and blink a couple of times before nodding. 

💥Kendo is the first to speak up, “Yeah his name is Katsuki Bakugo. He scored highly on the entrance exam. Probably one of the best students in that class.” 

💥Shio chimes in after, “Yeah his quirk is very destructive and flashy. Why do you wanna know about him? Do you like him?”. 

💥A slight smirk lies on Shio’s face. My face turns into a disgusted impression. Him out of all people? No, never. 

💥“What no! Completely the opposite. He insulted me today and told me I wouldn’t make it as a hero with my type of quirk. He’s such an ass!”, I yell out. 

💥They laugh at my aggressiveness but nod and agree with my comment about him being an asshole. 

💥“You're completely right. He’s not the best communicator from what every one has seen. Don’t take his comment to heart, it isn’t true. Your quirk is very capable and you can bring people back to life! That is more than useful” " she assured. 

💥I nod and smile at her kind words, “You're right, thanks.”

💥She nods and gives me the “you're welcome” look. 

💥The final bell rings and classes are now over. I am one of the last people out the door, as I'm still trying to shove my books into my bag. I start walking out the front until I notice someone familiar standing at the entrance on their phone. Its Bakugo. I groan as I get closer to the entrance. 

💥“Doesn’t he know how to pull his pants up!”, I mumbled underneath my breath. 

Bakugo must have heard me as he looked over his shoulder and looked at me. 

💥“You said what now, Extra?”, He questions. 

💥His face is cold and his red eyes are piercing into my soul. 

💥“Nothing, mind your business”, I shrug him off. 

💥He rolls his eyes and his expression is serious and aggressive. 

💥“You said I need to pull my pants up. If you care so much why don’t you say it to my face”, He demanded. 

💥I rolled my eyes at him and his cold demeanor, “Okay. Pull your pants up.” 

💥He smirks and leans in closer to me, “Okay, you're confident. But don’t get too cocky, you're not gonna make it in this course. Someone like you with a quirk like that isn’t gonna get anywhere. Should’ve applied to nursing school, you’d fit in there. But here? You don’t fit in. Maybe trade your soul or whatever your power does with someone else to get a better power.” 

💥My eyes widen at his words. He smirks at me again and that tells me he means it. I feel a wave of anger come over me. Tears that I will keep hidden until he walks away. Then he starts walking away from me. I stand there and clutch my bag in my hand. 

💥“You asshole!”, I scream at him. 

💥He can hear me but decides to ignore me, and it pisses me off even more. When he’s out of my sight, the tears stream down my face. Damnit. I can’t let him get to me but it does, and it hurts. They keep rolling down my face until I get home. I stand in front of the door wipe my face with my uniform sleeve, and put on a smile. I walk in and greet everyone before heading upstairs to my room. The dinner that’s being made downstairs fills the air. It's delicious. I went into my closet and pulled out my suitcase. I pack all my outfits and spare uniforms. 

💥My jewelry, perfumes, and my makeup. I sit on my vanity. There's a younger picture of me framed and set on top of my vanity. I stare at it and smile. That’s my motive. She’s my motive. I'm my motive. To not give up, and become a great hero. Suddenly, all the things Bakugo said to me didn't matter. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[charmac]

What was was experience like when you met Charlie? I’ve only met Glenn but I’m seeing Charlie this week and I’m nervous lol

Prepare yourself... because he is the most genuine celebrity I have ever met in my life, lmfao.

I honestly, confidently can say that there is no greater person to meet than Charlie Day. He really is exactly what you'd expect and then some.

I've met him a few times at this point so in terms of the experiences I've had, I'll direct you to this post from October and the day following that. I feel like I didn't explain too much of the context here, but basically he organically noticed me in the audience and stopped the on stage convo to ask me if I got the tattoo yesterday, which was really cool, and then after the panel he came up to me at the stage to sign my S10 DVD and then asked if there was anything else I wanted which was just so insane and then we went to the pop up bar and got a ton of free shots and what not. You can see my immediate thoughts after all of that:

The next week following was the NYC TASP live shows, and again he remembered me when he saw me at stage doors and came right up to say hi, which was awesome, and I talked to Mary Elizabeth separately too and she told me Charlie told her about the tattoo which is insane?? There were just a lot of small interactions those two nights between us that were really awesome, again just genuine shit.

March, again, so much shit happened that it would just be an essay to write out so I'll direct you to my posts about it from then, when I saw Charlie again after months and he immediately recognised me and remembered my name, then when he asked me for my input on the Mac and Dennis furniture situation (and agreed with me lol), and during that he took so much time with me like wayyy more than he should have lol, and then later that night at the bar was even more insane. I am not exaggerating when I say he spent a solid fifteen minutes just talking to us about Sunny. Like an insane amount of time where he was just this extremely genuine guy who was talking to us like we were friends just chatting about the show. I have never had that intimate of a conversation with anyone as famous as Charlie Day, and it was a real back and forth. Another ask regarding interactions with Charlie that night.

In summary, after meeting him I would lie my life down for that man anytime anywhere. It might be cringe to say but the days/nights I got to interact with Charlie are some of the greatest days of my life. Not just because of him, because there were a million other factors at play there, but he contributed largely to how fucking amazing my experiences at Sunny-related events have been.

AND I get being nervous, I am nervous every single time I meet any of them, but don't fret too much! I'm sure it will be a great night and I hope you have a ton of fun! He is the most chill, coolest, kindest guy I have ever met, and I hear that from sooo many other people too. Take photos and videos for us!

(And remember he will be in the writers room only a few days after you meet him... so plant some seeds... hah jk..)

[leonspretty]

windows of opportunity

in which lance is a disaster romantic and misses every opportunity to ask you out

masterlist

pairing: lance x reader

tags: fem! reader, disaster romantic lance, blue paladin lance, oblivious reader, oblivious lance too, reader isn't a paladin she just, like, helps(?), very very tiny bit of angst, happy ending, fluff, mutual pining, flirty banter, no use of y/n, lance calls reader ‘pretty’ as a nickname, cheeky little taylor swift reference if you squint.

notes: as a huge hopeless romantic, missed opportunities with a happy ending and mutual pining but thinking the other doesn't reciprocate is my obsession. i also know i said the first one would be keith but then i thought of this and it fit lance more i think.

wc: 2.3k

“Rise and shine, work hard, carve out your name, Take aim, pull the trigger, hit the bulls eye for fame, Know the value of faith, an' family, and don't you complain, Open wide, your windows of opportunity" — Kate Denson's "Windows of Opportunity”

To say that Lance liked you was an understatement. He was obsessed. Not crazy obsessed, but obsessed in the way that you consumed his every thought.

Luckily this didn't extend to during fights, but even then he would still be acutely aware of where you were at all times, making sure he could hear your voice over the comms, often talking over Coran just to flirt with you.

You were no different. Having known Lance since before joining the Garrison, your feelings for him have come and gone repetitively. Each time you'd confide in Pidge, declaring that you were over him after seeing him treat someone else the same way he treats you, claiming that he'd only ever see you as a friend, he'd do something that would make you retract anything bad you'd ever said about him.

Yours and Lance's feelings were obvious to everyone and it bewildered them how you both thought they were one sided.

The kitchen was quiet, Hunk, Keith and Pidge holding conversation while each did their own thing: Hunk baking, Keith tracing his blade and Pidge on her computer. Peaceful.

"What if I say something and she thinks I'm weird and never talks to me again?"

Keith and Pidge immediately groaned while Hunk remained silent, watching as Lance walked past all three of them, interrupting their conversation and train of thoughts. He threw himself onto a chair at the table across from Pidge who had already gathered her things and gotten up to leave. "Nope, not dealing with this again," she said as she left.

"She already thinks you're weird, I'm surprised she still puts up with you," Keith says from the spot next to where Pidge was. Lance glared at him in response, ignoring him.

"I think you should just try. If her face when she looks at you is anything to go off, I'm pretty sure she likes you too." It was a usually useless statement that was many times returned with "You're lying," or "I would've noticed." This time however, Lance turned to face Hunk and instead said,

"I was on my way to ask her out just now but she was training with Shiro and was in a zone and I didn't wanna disrupt that cause- where are you going?" Lance cut his rant off with a question directed at Keith who was leaving the kitchen.

"To train," was all he replied with.

"So you're finally going to do it? Why are you in here then?" Hunk asked.

"Yeah I am. I'm sick of wondering if she feels the same so I'm just gonna ask. I've never had a problem with it before so why should I now?"

From there, Lance vowed to himself that he would ask you out as soon as possible. He didn't want to spend any more time not being able to call you his than he had to.

You heard your name being called from down the corridor as you made your way to the showers. Training with Shiro was one thing, training with Shiro and Keith was another when you weren't out in the field anywhere near as often as them. It also didn't help how Keith had mentioned he had come to you two to escape Lance's apparent rambling about you. It had thrown you off and to make up for it and stop Shiro's teasing, you had put even more effort in than you normally would.

Turning around, you saw Lance running to catch up to you. Despite wanting to turn and make a run for it to the showers to avoid any embarrassment, you stopped and waited for him to meet you.

Huffing slightly, Lance met up with you and stopped to take you in. You were beautiful. Even when you were clearly sweaty and exhausted. He had to shake his head slightly to keep his thoughts from turning dirty. "Finished training?"

"Yeah, was just heading to the showers, wanna join me?" you said with a smirk, knowing that your question could be taken a couple different ways.

Recognising your signature smirk you used whenever the two of you would 'harmlessly' flirt, Lance played along. "Of course."

"Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Lance froze up briefly. He had wondered if Keith had overheard him say that he was going to ask you out and had opened his big mouth to you. You quietened his thoughts by following up with, "You look like you wanna say something. If its to tell me I smell, I know, Shiro and Keith are not easy opponents."

"Yeah you do stink, but I hope you kicked Keith's ass." Lance joked. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask you the best way to ask someone out." Your smile dropped for a second before replacing it with a forced one. You knew he didn't like you and he wasn't yours to lose so why should you keep someone else from experiencing what you could only dream about.

"Oh, well, it depends who it is. Personally, I like when it's done in a way that shows the person really knows me, like with trinkets or using inside jokes as a way of showing their feelings rather than just saying it. Allura though, she'd probably like to be taken somewhere nice, so when you ask her out maybe do it on a planet with a nice skyline or sunset or something." You knew it had to be Allura he was planning to ask out. He'd been flirting with her ever since you all met her. It was only a matter of time. You felt the unwanted tears build up - you had to get away, and fast. "Oh look, we're at the showers, thanks for walking with me and good luck on asking Allura, I'm sure she'll say yes." You were out of sight in seconds.

Lance stood facing the door speechless and confused. Where did Allura come into this? Why were you so quick to leave? He had only asked how to ask someone in hopes to lead up to him actually asking but instead his window of opportunity had closed before he even let it open.

His next window was clear. He had his speech planned out, knew exactly what he wanted to say and how. Now was the perfect opportunity. You were the only one on the bridge, sat in his seat seemingly just relaxing. Why you were doing that here instead of in the lounge he didn't know but he decided to ask later.

You hadn't noticed Lance's presence until you head a "Quiznack" be muttered under his breath as he tripped over his own feet, luckily managing to catch himself. You sat up and turned to face him. "Finally falling for me, Sharp-shooter?" you joked, internally cringing at the use of the word 'finally'.

If Lance had noticed your slip up, he didn't mention it. Instead, he rounded to the front of the chair you were in and dropped to sit on the floor facing you. "You wish. No. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"How did it go with Allura?" Truthfully, you didn't want to know, but you were sure you'd hear about it from one of them soon enough so why not get it out of the way.

"How did what go with Allura?" The confusion on his face was obvious.

"You were gonna ask her our remember? You literally asked me how to do it like two days ago." You mirrored Lance's confusion.

"Oh." Silence. "Oh! No! I wasn't planning to ask her out! I actually wanted to ask you-" his voice, which was already turning very quiet was cut off by you sitting up and squinting at the window.

"What was that?" You asked yourself aloud. Lance mistook that as a question for him.

"I said-" he was cut off again when you quickly got up and ran to the window.

"Quiznack!"

"What?"

"Alert everyone. Get to your lions. Now."

At that, Lance looked outside to see multiple Galra ships appearing. He groaned internally. To you the groan was about having to go out and fight. For him, the groan was because yet another window of opportunity had shut.

Keith really just wanted to lay down. Not necessarily sleep as that had never come easy to him, but he was exhausted. Instead he had to listen to you whine about how Lance doesn't share your feelings. When he had asked why you were coming to him about this you had said that everyone who wasn't Lance was busy and she didn't want to bother them. At that moment he wished you hadn't found him sat in the lounge. As much as he cherished you as a friend, he was quite frankly sick of hearing about Lance. When there was a knock at the door of his room, of which you had followed him into and immediately flopped onto his bed mid rant, Keith rolled his eyes and opened it. He was glad it had at least got you to be quiet since you also wondered who it was.

"Hey have you seen, oh hi pretty, Keith have you seen-" Lance stopped talking. When he'd said hi, he wasn't thinking, it was natural instinct. When he realised you were laid out on Keith's bed, his brain caught up to his mouth.

You, on the other hand, were blushing. It wasn't the first time Lance was calling you pretty. In fact it's what he called you 90% of the time. But it was the timing. You had just been complaining about how he doesn't think of you except from if he has to or if you're talking with him then he calls you pretty, offhanded. You were going insane.

"What's up?" Keith asked Lance, aiming a sly smirk at you as if he could tell you were going crazy over both seeing the person who was the main character of your rant and at the name said person had called you.

"Actually I was looking for her but if you guys are busy..."

Keith took this opportunity to both get rid of you so he can lie down and also get back at you for talking his ear off. "No, no, please, take her, I'm sick of hearing about you."

Lance ignored Keith's comment, turning to you, "Can we talk?"

Your eyes went wide as you sat up, your heart immediately dropping. Had you done something wrong? Had he overheard you talking about how much you liked him? Was this the end of your guys's friendship? You'd rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. You just nodded and said bye to Keith as you left his room.

The door closed within milliseconds of you leaving the room. It was just you and Lance now. Alone. "Come on," Lance smiled and started walking to his room.

Arriving in his room, Lance's nerves began to pick up. This was his chance. Again. He promised to himself that this is it. He wasn't going to let another interruption keep him from telling you how he feels.

Being in his room alone with him was nothing new, so why did you feel so nervous. "Come sit down, pretty." Lance patted the spot next to where he had just sat on his bed. You plastered a smile on your face and sat down.

"What's up? You never ask to talk, you usually just... do."

Lance let out a snort at that, giving you a pointed glance. "Oh and you don't?"

"I never said that."

The light hearted joking relaxed you - it's what you were used to between the two of you.

Your previous nerves about what Lance had to say dissipated as the two of you continued to joke together a little longer.

"Lance. You didn't come find me just to hang out. I know you. What's up?"

He had been putting it off, nerves creeping up the closer he came to confessing and so he sought comfort in your company as it was. Lance nodded and cleared his throat, turning to look in your eyes. "Every time I've tried to talk to you about this, something interrupts me: you rushing off to the showers, then the galra finding us. And then you thought I asked Allura out which is crazy because yeah she's-"

"Lance." You cut him off, not wanting to hear about how the princess of Altea was perfect and dreamy. "Come on."

"As I was going to say, before someone rudely interrupted, again-"

You laughed and stuck your tongue out at him quickly and jokingly.

"Hey! Anyway, yeah Allura is cool, I mean, she's a princess. But she isn't you." He paused, but realised how that could be taken, he continued, "I don't want Allura... I want you pretty girl. And it has taken me way too long to finally tell you. There have been so many missed windows of opportunity, and I refuse to miss any more. It's you. It's always been you, and I'm sorry I led you to believe otherwise."

You were speechless. A confession wasn't even on the list of things you had expected to come from this talk. The smile that grew on your face was unstoppable. Not trusting yourself to let out a happy squeal, you threw your arms around the man who had just told you he chooses you.

The sudden force took Lance by surprise, but he was fast to wrap his arms around your waist and fall back onto his bed, pulling you down with him. You lifted your head to look Lance in the eyes. Lance took this as his chance to finally make things official. "Will you be mine, pretty?"

The smile you didn't think could grow any wider, did. "I will always be yours, Loverboy Lance."

notes: i low-key kinda don't like how this ended up but i tried. it's also only slightly proof-read because i wanna move on to a keith fic now. also, if you saw this before, i reposted it cause i wanted it after my masterlist stuff so its still the same just reposted. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. i also may make a taglist so let me know if you wanna be on it!

@cafekitsune made the dividers here!

thank you for reading!!

[heartfullofleeches]

Make a lady yan who has all the worst traits of the others. We need more nasty women I would do anything for an irredeemable shithead of a lady. She’s got V’s unrepentant nastiness, or maybe Amyas’ wet cat energy, Devlin’s chaos gremlin energy, Milk Tea’s immoral dom energy, Eggnog’s adorable creep energy, I could go on for so long but the main point is lady yan with the nasty traits people usually don’t give lady characters because I will simp so hard and build her an altar in my closet 🫶 heavy are the hips that wear the strap or whatever the saying is and I am willing to support those hips 🥰

(Combining the traits of the first three, meet our lovely queen of nasty Calliope) [mentions of violence, death]

Ah...

What's she doing out here again? Alone in a big scary alleyway, with a complete stranger no less. She's reminded of her torment and mission as she thinks back to the other day - the happy memory of catching you out by yourself ruined by this....thing. Laughing at every passive comment you made, clinging to your arm like you were already date. How desperate could a person be? Then they had to go and actually ask you out. And you said yes. She nearly lost her lunch on the spot. Why do the confident people get everything in life....

"Can we please wrap this up?.. I got get back inside and I have somewhere to be soon."

Right. Calliope swallows her non-existent pride and relaxes her fists in her pockets. There was still a chance. Every now and then there were the "good" ones. People who took pity on those like her if they sucked up enough. All she had to do was look weak, which was easier said than done despite her appearance. Think, think.. She thinks about what will happen if she doesn't. Your first day with it. It holding your hand, kissing you on the cheek, getting to watch you undress before bed.

"U-um... I overheard you asking someone out the other day and I-I was wondering if you... If you wouldn't mind letting me try my chances with them first!!"

The stranger grimaces, looking at her like a carcass on the side of the road - then anywhere but. It's too obvious. Her teeth chatter too loudly for the quivering of her lips to be noticed. Her eyes are too sunken and heavy with depravation to pull off that cutesy big eyed look. She's too pathetic for even this to work. Go figure.

"Look.. I get that this is hard, but I really like them too. I'm sure you'll find someone else who's right for you."

Right for her? There's nobody better for her than you. She picked you out as her only before you first spoke to each other - given you hadn't even done that yet. This fucker doesn't know what it's like. It probably wasn't even love at first sight like it was for Calliope. Either way it was clear they weren't going to give you up. And yet....

"Please! I need them! You don't know what my life will be like if I have to see them with someone else!"

The stranger, obviously taken aback as she latches on their arm tries to shove her off. Her fingers imprint on their skin as she twists their wrist. "Get off of me!"

"Please! Just one chance! I can make my confession better. I'm better for them than you'll ever be!"

"Get off!"

Wrangling free of her increasing grip, the stranger pushes Calliope as hard and far away from them as they can - air flying from her chest as she hits the brick way behind her. Winding, she slides to the filthy alley street - the weight in her pocket dragging her down. She clutches her side with her right hand. That hurt. There's stars in her vision. Tears too. It's not fair.

The panic and agitation on the stranger's face contorts as the water works start. Calliope ugly sobs into the open air, not carrying for the attention she was drawing to herself. She wails and pulls her knees into her chest as she shrinks against the wall. They cautiously step towards her which makes her flinch.

"Please don't hurt me.."

"Take it easy. I wasn't going to."

They offer her their hand. She takes it as she stands, hair falling over her eyes.

"That's a real shame."

She pulls her left hand out of her pocket, producing a rusty hammer.

"Cuz I was planning on hurting you from the start."

Calliope stomps down on their foot as it hits them. Head side up, she brings the hammer down on their skull; glee bubbling within her as the wet thunk rings throughout the vacant passage way. The stranger staggers backwards. Calliope jumps in place, taunting them by beckoning them forward. When they don't move she advances, steadies her arm - and strikes again, aiming closer to their eye socket.

Her body is so jittery she misses her mark, but she still gets a good blow to their upper cheek. They spit blood, flesh discolored from the bursted vessels in their face. Grinning from ear to ear, speckles of crimson spray across her lips and teeth, even hitting her tongue as she drawn back with maniacal shriek of laughter. She head butts then for the next attack, nose crunching from the weight behind it. As their legs start to wobble, Calliope takes the burden off them by sweeping them and pouncing on them once they fall. Unable to defend, she unleashes bow after blow. Rant after rant between her manic giggles.

"You."

Crack.

"Fucking."

Slam.

"Idiot! Did you really think I was going to let you win?!? They're mine. Mine!"

She hits them over and over, long after their twitching had stopped. There isn't a face anymore. Just broken shards of bone sticking through the pink, fleshy meat once enclosed in their head. Just meat. That's all it ever was, and would be. Calliope gets out a few more chuckles before she gets up. She starts to walk off when a phone chimes from somewhere. She grabs it from the coat on the ground. It's you, checking up whoever it belonged to. She's sure they're fine. There were more important matters at hand to be dealt with first.

"All good. What are you wearing tonight?;)"

[notmorbid]

the force of such beauty, pt. 3.

dialogue prompts from the force of such beauty by barbara bourland.

you're more interesting than i thought.

i'm sure i can get a ride home.

i'm not scared of being yelled at.

we found a plot to kidnap you on the internet.

i'm starting to feel like my own person again.

i didn't expect you to be funny.

tell me why i shouldn't feel scared all the time.

i never get to be myself, except when i'm with you.

it doesn't matter. nobody matters except us.

i loved being pregnant. every single person smiled at me.

it's immoral to be so careless.

there's a difference in experiences and accomplishments.

you're not more of a person than i am.

it does not matter what you do, as long as you do it with confidence.

the best parent is one that can be counted on.

don't swear at me.

do you feel like that? paranoid?

i think it's been a lot. i think you need a break.

you must tell me. i am here for you, but i am not psychic.

you must not think the worst of others.

you don't know what things were like, before.

you must not make believe that you are above the law.

you have always been the most important person in the room.

i'm never here and never anywhere else.

i wonder what it's like to own your life, be in control of it.

thank you for everything.

you're a vision.

you didn't forget. you avoided it.

oh, my stars. profanity.

i think these weekends will be fun, until they happen.

do you mind if we sit here and don't talk?

you call it egomania, i call it confidence.

i could have been happier somewhere else.

easy to forget one is on display.

what makes you so special?

you're what makes me special.

i don't have time to fool around.

i love you, and i know you'll grow up to be a good person.

how can you keep so much of yourself from me?

you lie to yourself like you lie to everyone else.

you're the first person to ask me that in years.

you need to start protecting yourself.

do you want the details?

you never cared. you don't have the right to care now.

i only need to be loved.

you thought it was a secret, didn't you?

you stopped wanting me.

i ran out of things to give you.

you're allowed to make mistakes.

i don't see what purpose there is in unhappiness.

life is not a one-way street.

it's one of those days when it feels like there's nothing to wear.

take it. it's the perfect color for you.

you have to get up every day and keep going, no matter what.

i could have learned a lot from you.

you're saving my life.

that can't be all you wanted to say.

i am sick of being uncomfortable all the time.

everybody speaks for me. i want to speak for myself.

[winesink]

How Easy You Are to Need

Part one

Porn with some plot. Mutual masturbation, oral sex (female receiving)

Banner by @/cafekitsune

The coals still burned hot in the hearth. The low light would be a lovely warm glow under any other circumstances, but the humid air and the sweat that clings to them made for a rather miserable time, entwined as they were. Still, for perhaps the first time in his sorry fucking life, Sandor couldn't much bring himself to be miserable. He stroked his hand up the little bird's arm, as if reassuring himself that she was real, took measure of the scrawny musculature she kept hidden within the belled sleeves of her pretty gowns. She'd grown stiff beside him when he'd asked after her whereabouts a few nights previous, though she was trying desperately to feign nonchalance now.

"I found a letter under my pillow…" she starts, voice timid despite all they'd done.

"Under your pillow?"

"Yes."

"So one of your maids left it?"

The little bird was too proper to roll her eyes at him, but he could almost hear the thought of doing so cross her mind. "No, I don't think so."

"Who else would have left it, little bird?"

Sansa rather strategically looked no higher than his shoulder. "A friend."

"Then your little friend was in your room, were they?" Clegane growled. He liked this not. Letters under the pillows of betrothed ladies seldom ended well, despite what all her pretty songs would have told her.

"I… I suppose so, though never while I was here as well."

That meant little and less, gods knew. "Well, what did the letter say , girl?"

The fingers she'd been idly combing through his chest hair turned suddenly still. "'Come to the Godswood tonight, if you want to go home.'"

He would have laughed, if the feeling of a bear trap snapping closed around both their ankles weren't so overwhelming. "And you did?" She nods, still unable to look at him. " Gods, girl," he seethed, grabbing her chin to tip her head back up toward him. "Have you learned nothing in your time here? Who was it?"  How many people am I killing tonight?

The lady just shook her head. "I thought it was a trap as well! I even brought a knife, to protect mys -."

"Who gave you a knife?"

Sansa blanched. "The scullery maid?"

A bread knife. She'd brought a bread knife to protect herself against an unknown foe. "You stupid little -."

"It's no trick, I swear it! Ser D -."

"'Ser!?'" he thundered.

"My lord please , we must be quiet -."

"And which 'ser's' been in your cage, little bird, hm? Which one wants to steal away with you? Tell me. " Her teeth chattered a bit with how hard he shook her, and he sprung off the bed, frustrated with himself. Frustrated with her more.

"I'll not," she huffs.

He loomed over her, a massive shadow that eclipsed her fireplace. "You will or I'll beat it out of you."

"I'll not and you'll not." He blinked, blindsided by her confidence in this assessment. "You'll kill him if I tell you, and I won't be part of it."

"And you think if I have to find out for myself, I'll spare him?"

"You -. You can't trail me, always. You've the king to shadow."

"Guess I'll just start killing knights at random then, aye?"

"It's not a plot, I swear. He isn't cunning enough for such."

"Not cunning enough to be a catspaw, but smart enough to smuggle you clear across Westeros?"

"Of course not. And I don't want him to. I only mentioned it because…" she trailed off, fingering the ends of her pretty locks nervously.

"Spit it out."

When she met his eyes again, hers were dark as the Blackwater. "I do not want him to take me anywhere. I want you to take me home."

Sandor couldn't help but scoff. "You must think me a cuntstruck fool."

"No, only -."

"You listen here, girl," he growled, beginning to pull on his armor. "This is no song. Hear me? I'm no knight come to save you, and neither is this buggerer in the Godswood. Any man who steals you away will only be doing it for themselves, and I'm not stupid enough to try. Not worth my head. So unless you want to find yourself ruined by some landless knight, you'll stay here and do as you're bid, and you'll thank me one day when your family's all dead and buried and you alone remain with your gilded royal children."

"Sandor, please -."

He didn't stay to hear the rest, her sobs echoing after him as he fled down the hall.

***

The Imp had given the king a crossbow. Sandor bloody hated crossbows. A coward's weapon - cowards who couldn't look a man in the face when they killed him. Cowards who shot at stray cats when they were mad, also. 

It wasn't even a good shot. The cat was long in dying, its mewls drowning out Ser Lancel's report of Robb's most recent win. It must have been quite a thrashing - reports were already blaming black magic. The king was furious, his glower growing more ominous by the second. Sandor didn't particularly wish to see another cat die, but he'd have given anything to bring all the strays in King's Landing to His Grace's feet if it meant he'd forget his favorite toy.

No such luck, it seemed.

"Fetch me my Lady." Meryn leapt into action immediately but the king stopped him with a glare. "Dog, you do it. I want her frightened."

'Aye, and she might be at that.' He'd not spoken to her since stealing a song from her and leaving her cage in a huff a few weeks past. She'd been miserable with him, the timid glances she used to send his way reduced to an obvious, steadfast refusal to even acknowledge his existence. As if it were his fault she'd gone and done a fool thing like asking him to help her escape. Honestly, it was a wonder her head was still attached, full of pigeon feed as it was. He'd told her as much, and been suffering her resentment ever since.

Her maids were still fluttering about when he knocked on her door. The oldest one - one of the queen's he was fairly sure - opened it and eyed him all over. That was good. She'd run back and tell Cersei the Hound had been sent away from the king to retrieve the little bird himself. She might come to investigate and when she saw her son tormenting the girl, she would be very cross indeed.

"His Grace has requested the presence of his lady."

"Well his lady is not properly dressed," she snipped.

Despite himself, Sandor's eyes darted above the maid's shoulder to Sansa's vanity. Their eyes met in the mirror briefly, but Sandor took in her bare shoulder where her dress hadn't been properly secured yet as well. "Get her decent, and quickly." He turned back to the maid and gave her a pointed look. 

She frowned in understanding and shut the door in his face, though she didn't bar it. Sandor waited as long as he thought it would take to tie off a dress and then barged in. He was kingsguard, after all, and Sansa was to be queen; it wasn't completely indecent, provided she was chaperoned. Sansa jumped a foot but the maids didn't think much of it, continuing to brush and fasten her hair, applying powder to the bags under her eyes he felt only slightly guilty about. 

"The longer you keep him waiting, the worse it will go for you," he warned her.

Sansa blanched at his tone and shooed the maid that had been tying her dress away, making much quicker work of it despite her shaking fingers.

He'd told her once that Joff would want her to be pretty. She'd taken it to heart, because she could be clever sometimes, but as he watches her cover some slight bruising on her cheek and lay her necklace just so, he wished he could tell her now to just forget it all. It would make the king angry, no doubt, but Sandor had seen his fair share of men like Joffrey. He wondered if it'd been wise to encourage her to get the little shit's blood up with her dainty jewels and dewy skin.

He walked next to her instead of behind like a proper escort would, trying not to become incensed by the way she positioner herself strategically on his unburned side. Today was going to go poorly enough for her, she didn't need him being a miserable arse on top of it all.

"Tell me what I've done," she breathed, "they haven't learned of… us… have they?"

"Not us. Your kingly brother."

"Robb's a traitor. I had no part in whatever he did."

"That's good. Add some begging." 

More lords had assembled by the time they made it back to the bailey, and Joffrey looked near apoplectic at being left waiting. As they passed, the drunken fool Dontos rode his little stick up to Sansa's side and whispered for her to be brave. He was not subtle, and Sandor could have beheaded him for risking the king's ire even more just for some stupid, empty words. Sansa didn't react to him at all, falling to her knees once they'd reached Joffrey and greeting him politely. 

"Kneeling won't save you now," the king seethed. "Stand up. You're here to answer for your brother's latest treasons."

“Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that, I beg you, please -.”

“Get her up!”

Sandor bent and pulled her to her feet as gently as he dared, his hands lingering no longer than was proper. At the king's prompt, Lancel repeated the tale of Robb's latest victory: the wargs and the sneakery, the cannibalism. Sansa did not reply immediately; Sandor wondered if she was trying not to laugh.

"You have nothing to say?" Asked the king.

“Your Grace, the poor child is shocked witless,” murmured Ser Dontos. The Hound eyed him suspiciously.

“Silence, fool.” Joffrey lifted his crossbow and pointed it at Sansa's face. Sandor swayed slightly closer to her. Whatever else he could not protect her from, Cersei would gift him Harrenhall if he just kept her little hostage bolt-free.

“You Starks are as unnatural as those wolves of yours. I’ve not forgotten how your monster savaged me.”

“That was Arya’s wolf,” she said. “Lady never hurt you, but you killed her anyway.”

“No, your father did,” Joff said, “but I killed your father. I wish I’d done it myself. I killed a man last night who was bigger than your father. They came to the gate shouting my name and calling for bread like I was some baker, but I taught them better. I shot the loudest one right through the throat.”

"Of course you did, you're an excellent shot." The cat mewled, still dying.

"Yes. Got my quarrel in his throat. There was a woman throwing rocks, I got her as well, but only in the arm.” Frowning, he lowered the crossbow. “I’d shoot you too, but if I do Mother says they’d kill my uncle Jaime. Instead you’ll just be punished and we’ll send word to your brother about what will happen to you if he doesn’t yield. Dog, hit her."

The rebuke was on his tongue but he never had the chance. “Let me beat her!” Ser Dontos called, shoving forward, tin armor clattering. He was armed with a 'morningstar' whose head was a melon. Before anyone could protest, the fat bastard was trotting around Sansa on his stupid little stick, shouting “Traitor, traitor,” and whacking her over the head with the hard fruit.

That would hurt, the Hound knew. Much worse than he would have hurt her, in truth. But Dontos didn't know that. Dontos thought he was protecting the lady from an ungodly vicious beating. Why would a drunken fool do that? Sandor wondered. Sansa was making a good show of it, staggering with every hit and feigning disgust at the juices that dripped down her beautiful hair. The assembled lords and ladies laughed but Joffrey did not even smile. "Boros. Meryn." Trant threw the fool to the ground while Blount seized Sansa. "Leave her face," the king drawled. "I like her pretty."

Boros slammed his fist into Sansa's belly. She lost her wind and her balance, doubling over as the knight grabbed her by the hair and unsheathed his sword. Sandor made for his own hilt but Boros only brought the flat of his blade down on her thighs as he usually did. He'd been holding back, it seemed. This blow was hard and Sansa screamed in pain, but the knight did not relent as he rained countless blows down on her.

"Enough," Sandor found himself speaking, the grip on his sword so tight he thought it might break.

"No it isn't," the king replied. "Make her naked."

Boros shoved a meaty hand down Sansa's bodice and yanked. The garment tore, loud and long. The sound of it combined with the laughter of the assembled lords. Sandor seethed, impotent and shamed. He did not look at the little bird's plucked breasts.

"Beat her bloody!" The king cried, "We'll see how her brother likes -!"

"What is the meaning of this?"

For such a little man, Lord Tyrion did carry a rather commanding voice when needed. It wasn't his wont, of course - usually content to make droll little comments and think himself clever enough to have made a jest his audience was too dull to understand if they didn't laugh. In Clagane's experience, it was more likely no one found him funny, but one could see the confusion, given no one was quite brave enough to say such to Lord Tywin's get. Even if the lion wanted the little shit dead. Still, the Imp could be occasionally effective, for which Sandor never thought he'd be so grateful for as when Blount dropped the girl like a hot coal at the crack of Tyrion's voice.

Despite his waddling, the little man breaks the crowd like water on a bow, his snarky little sellsword shield and one of the mountain savages he favored loping along in his wake. The sellsword - Bronn - needed no direction, coming to Clegane's side as he bounced his shifty little gaze between the three assembled kingsguard. He did not draw his dirk, but the grip he kept constantly on its handle like a green boy on his cock twitched eagerly.

"Is this your notion of chivalry, Ser Boros?" Tyrion asked, "What sort of knight beats a helpless maid?" 

"The sort who serves his king, Imp." Boros countered, raising his sword to meet Bronn's stance. 

"The Kingsguard protects the queen, too, Ser Boros, or did you forget that?" The Imp snarked.

Meryn came to join Boros then, drawing his own blade and showing what he thought of that.

"Careful with those," warned the sellsword, "you don't want to get blood all over those pretty white cloaks."

"Someone give the girl something to cover herself with," the Imp directed. Dontos flopped around on the ground as if he meant to rise to the occasion, but to rip his own cloak off was a simple enough matter. Clegane threw it to the girl, still not trusting himself to look at her.

“This girl’s to be your queen,” the Imp told Joffrey. “Have you no regard for her honor?”

“I’m punishing her.”

"For what crime? She did not fight her brother’s battle.”

“She has the blood of a wolf.”

“And you have the wits of a goose.”

There's more barbs traded. Kingsguardsmen are threatened. But for whatever else his faults may be, Lord Tyrion was certainly smart enough to outwit a boy king. Joffrey was sputtering mad by the end of it, but no one stopped the Imp when he made off with the little bird. She sniffled daintily, but did not protest walking upon her own battered legs. It's a struggle not to offer to carry her, but he'd more than earned the king's wrath for the day, objecting as he had.

Besides, after standing uselessly aside the way he did, he was no longer certain he was fit to touch her.

***

In Sansa's surly isolation, Sandor had had no opportunity to learn the identity of her benevolent knight savior. Hard to shadow the bird when she never went anywhere, after all. He'd considered haunting the Godswood on occasion, but had ultimately decided against it when reasoning stated finding only one half a pair was too flimsy a pretense to subject himself to suspicion for.

But there could be no doubt anymore who had sent the little bird her fucking letter, and he was determined to end this farce tonight.

'Be brave,' he'd said. As if he had even an ounce of bravery to lend her. 

Hollard was a fat, ugly little creature. He stank of piss more oft than not and waddled worse than the Imp. It would have made him easy to spot even in the dark, but Sandor needed not resort to such deduction when he spotted the drunken oaf stumbling around a particularly shapely birch tree. "My Jonquil," he said, "my sweet lady." And then thanked it for saving his skin from the king's ire so thoroughly he stripped the bark right off when Sandor finally unlatched him.

"Jonquil, is it? That make you Florian?"

"Unhand me!" Hollard's jowls quivered when he spoke. "I'm a knight!"

"You're no more knight than me," Sandor laughed, spinning the short man about so they could get a proper look at each other.

"Hound," Dontos blanched.

"Aye, me. King's dog come to ferret out who's been sniffing around his betrothed."

"I didn't -. I never -!"

"Hush," Sandor warned. "You're too much a halfwit to have plotted this yourself. Who sent you?"

"My lord, I -."

"You're no more knight than me, and I'm no more lord than you. You will call me the Hound, or I will have your tongue."

"Y-yes, s - Hound. Sorry, Hound."

Clegane huffed in begrudging approval, shook the smaller man a bit. "Answer me. Who sent you?"

"No one, Hound. I swear it -."

"I hate liars, Hollard. Hate them worse than befuddled idiots, and buffoons who make sport of scared little girls."

"Not sporting! I was -."

"So then you did intend to steal the crown's hostage?" The stupid git just gawps at him, spit soaked lips working like worms to form words that never come. "Or did you mean simply to lure the girl away to safety, hm?"

"Y-yes, Hou -."

"And where would that be? Last I knew, Hollard castle lay in ruin."

"No, not there…"

" Where , man?" 

Hollard's head whipped precariously about when Sandor shook him. "I was only meant to take her from the city! After the wedding! I know not where they're to go."

'The wedding.' There was something about the way he said it that drew his attention - as if there were a set date. "What wedding?"

Hollard blanched, caught. He tried to wriggle out of the Hound's grasp and got himself smashed up against a tree so hard it made his teeth rattle."The Tyrell girl! If it came to pass!"

"Missed your boat, then,' Sandor scoffs, "She's already wed Renly."

"Oh, uh. Right," the fool laughs nervously.

Bleeding idiot. "Who were you supposed to get out? Lady Sansa and who?"

"Can't say, my lord."

"Can't or won't?"

"B-both!"

He'd always been quicker than people gave him credit for. Cleverer, too. Like a viper, Sandor lashes out and sinks the knife from his belt none too deep into Hollard's ample belly, just enough to make him bleed a rather motivating amount. 

"The man I dealt with was no one! Just some soup kitchen proprietor! The plan was to sneak the girl away after the wedding. I was never to meet him until he took us both away!"

"A man, for certain?"

"I believe so, yes. My associate - he only ever referred to him as such. Please -!"

"And your associate, who was he?"

"Never asked! Less I knew -."

"A description, you blithering idiot."

"Lean! And tall, though not so tall as you, se - Hound. Simple garb. The kitchen was on Pisswater! I never did go; couldn't tell you the name." He wasn't lying, but Sandor reminded him he could smell one anyway, just in case. "It's the truth, my lord! Oh please, mercy! I -."

He died forgettably in the end. Knife between the ribs, up high where his fat didn't protect him. Sandor took his body back up through the bailey and told the guards at the armory the truth. "Overheard him thanking a comely birch tree for sparing his life from the king's wrath. None too gallantly."

***

She still had his cloak - an irony he refused to think too much on when the realization he could not protect her physically without endangering her person became clearer to him over the course of the next few days. The Hound was not much acquainted with the feeling of impotence the scene in the bailey had incited, but to have drawn steel would have only been a short term solution. That's what he'd told himself at the moment, at least. Then the bloody Imp had come and shown everyone assembled what it meant to have power.

"Unmanned by the fucking demon monkey," Sandor seethed into his cup. The tavern was a favorite of his; good wine and unfriendly patrons. His frequent visits were likely to gain him a tail one day, but that was a small price to pay for loose serving wenches who threw him a bone every now and again. There was one - Anyssa - with hair like cherry wood whom he favored. The sentiment likely wasn't mutual, but she took his cock happily enough and kept his goblet topped off with minimal conversation. 

But she was otherwise occupied that night.

"They say that demon monkey's been plottin'." The maid was bad company, but pretty enough he supposed. Her hair was lank, though blonde somewhere under all that grease build up. Her eyes were a nice, deep brown - black in the low candle glow. They glinted mischievously in the dancing light, eager to spill and sponge up secrets both. 

Sandor didn't even look at her. "No doubt." He paused, considering. "About what?"

"Plans to entice Highgarden to our side. Got a nice proposal for Renly's widow, I 'eard." 

"The Tyrell girl?" He squints at her, "And what do we have that Highgarden doesn't?"

"A king, for a start."

"Well, one of 'em, anyway."

"Aye, an' that king'll be needin' married soon, won't 'e?"

'After the wedding,' Hollard had said. "The Stark girl…"

"Got traitor's blood, she 'as. Wouldn't make for a good queen, says I."

Not here she wouldn't, no. "Where did you hear this?"

The girl balks. "Everyone says so, ser. Lady Stark, she -."

"The proposal," he growls. Anyssa knew better than to call him 'ser'.

"Oh. Well, I first heard it from Brighton - 'e sells us our onions, usually, but ever since the block -."

"Who else? Any knights? Squires?"

"Squires I wouldn't know, ser - ah, Hound -, but no knights. Fair few commoners repeatin' it."

Varys's doing, then. Or Littlefucker's. He'd no sooner darkened the Red Keep's gate after his return trip from the Vale than did new plots spring up all around the capital like mushrooms after a hard rain. Perhaps the Imp, who had learned long ago the power a rumor held. Ultimately, it didn't matter to him; for what good was the rumor itself? He needed to know the why of it, not the how.

The thing was, if the Stark girl were cast aside, it would open her up to a world of trouble. Unprotected by the promise of the king's marital cloak, Sansa would be subject to all manner of men. Not all of them worried with such trifles as marriage offers, either, not when they could simply take . No one would bother to behead a greater lord for defiling the daughter of a traitor - not when it would be much easier to marry her off to them; keep the lord happy and compliant while holding Sansa, and therefore the north, on a short leash. 

And which one of them wanted her more?

Not Varys, surely. Littlefucker or the Imp then. Neither prospect instilled him with any confidence. Baelish had an savory history with Tully women, but if any man could perhaps match the bastard's penchant for taking advantage of women, it would be Tyrion fucking Lannister.

It wasn't his concern, but he was concerned anyway. There were more rumors, more plots. The announcement of Myrcella's impending departure to Dorne left the queen more bitter and ornery than usual. 

When Baelish left for Bitterbridge to greet with Mace Tyrell, Sandor considered stealing the little bird away in the dead and being done with it. It was a fool's errand, he knew, and one he'd sooner lop his own head off than partake in, except she'd had that note. Another man's offer to escort her out of the city. A trap, clearly, but one she could fall for again unless he cut the head off the snake.

Or got her out of the snake pit.

***

The day Myrcella was due to embark for Dorne dawned humid and bright. The kind of day that let you know what it was about first thing. Sandor felt like to sweat through his armor as it roasted him alive standing outside the general shade of the Mud Gate with the king, listening as he bickered with his betrothed like a child. It would be a relief to see the girl moved to anger for the first time in months, if not for the general din of the city, or the sense of unease it brought with it. Sandor could feel the anxiety like static in his teeth. It buzzed around his scalp, kept his fine hairs puffed like a scared cat's against his helmet. 

It only got worse as they returned, a long session of courtly dresses and jewels flanked on either side by the glittering cloaks of the city watch. A fat vein of gold etched through the stones that made up the very city, just waiting to be mined.

When the commoners broke the wedge line, Sandor felt the unfamiliar burn of panic at the back of his throat. Behind him, knights and ladies alike were pulled from their horses and Sandor could not return to his own for the throng of people who tucked too close to allow for a decent swing of his sword. He saw Moore cut the hand off a peasant who reached for Joffrey, the spray arching across the cobbles in a slick, hot arc. The street stones, baked under the hot sun, steamed.

"Ride!" the Imp ordered, slapping a hand down on the rump of the king's mount. The column broke into a sprint, spineless Ser Mandon following along behind his king as Sansa's horse balked under her unpracticed hand. As the crowd flooded into the space vacated by the royals, Sandor let himself be jostled along, cutting when the opportunity arose and then cutting more and more as the peasants before him parted. They stank. Hot blood and sour piss. Sometimes, he'd catch a glimpse of rotted teeth or soiled clothes. None of it mattered. Most oft, he didn't even look at them. They offered no resistance other than numbers; but then, neither did rats. 

These rats were quite brave though, he could admit that. They swarmed Ser Santagar, fat Lollys, and even the bloody septon. Four more and they'll have the whole set, he thought blithely. They got greedy with the maidens though, trying to pull the little bird from her perch. They'd gotten one of her dainty slippers out of stirrup by the time he made it to her. One of the sorrier looking blighters was tugging her down by a tight grip at her waist. There was a stain there. Tomato, likely. Blood, possibly. Sandor added to it, striking down savagely and severing the offending appendage with a fountain of viscera which sent Sansa's pony into a panic. It stanced itself, began to rear. Sansa abandoned the reins in favor of clutching to its neck. Clegane grabbed the bridle before it could hop more than an inch, yanking hard enough to pull it back to the earth with a jolt that would make worry about its legs if he weren't otherwise occupied. Sansa, already perilously close to falling, slid ever closer. Coming around to her side, he shoved her back into place with ease, despite the way she slumped in relief when he told her she was alright now. He stole the stirrup she'd vacated, swinging his other leg clear over her to sit astride the horse with her at his back. She obliged instinctually, wriggling back to give him room and relinquishing the far stirrup to him.

The Hound dug his spurs savagely into the pony, the poor animal not used to such a mean, heavy rider. It whinnied but relented, driving into the fray like a true warhorse under Sandor's confident hand. The press of people jumped out of their way, or they did not and he rode them down. He was quick, efficient, one flick of his wrist and the path was clear, or a single swipe of his sword and the lingering hands fell away.

Their ride could not have lasted long, but it felt like ages. They saw more knights and lords he knew the names of all around, buried under mountains of flesh or still hacking away. Sansa remained silent, a trembling little thing who clung to him, who he'd sometimes hold back as best he could. It was hard work, moving against the flow of bodies, but Sandor and the horse both had had enough and before either of them could have thought possible they were free, the madness left behind as they clattered through Maegor's Gate. 

There was a commotion of movement he hardly registered, the press of guards and concerned lords barely noticeable after the overwhelming presence of the streets. But then Lord Tyrion was beside them, a hard face to confuse. "Are you hurt, Lady Sansa?"

Sansa's breaths were rapid and racking. She gripped the Hound tighter and dug her face into the coarse material of his white cloak, trying to collect her wits. “They… they were throwing things… rocks and filth, eggs… I tried to tell them, I had no bread to give them. A man tried to pull me from the saddle. The Hound killed him, I think… his arm…” The Hound yanked himself out of her grasp as his actions caught up with her. She covered her mouth in disgust as she sagged forward into the space he'd vacated, the pommel of the saddle digging under her breast. “He cut off his arm -!"

She looked near to fainting as he lifted her gently from the saddle and placed her on her feet. She swayed and held onto his bracers, trying to rest her head against his chest though he held her at arm's length.

“The little bird’s bleeding. Someone take her back to her cage and see to that cut," he barked. Maester Franken shuffled forward, his deep sleeves enveloping Sansa and steering her toward the holdfast as Sandor asked about his horse. 

"He was running with us for a time," Tyrion supplied, "but I don't know what came of him after that."

He felt fit to burst, but then news of a fire in Flea Bottom broke and Tyrion was turning away to bark orders, commanding Sandor to attend the water wagons with his pet sellsword. For a moment, he thought to disobey; but then he saw a flash of recognition cross the Imp's eyes and he acceded, grumbling about finding his horse.

***

The curfew is perhaps worse than the fires. Soot covered and exhausted, Sandor wanted nothing more than to crawl into the closest tavern and drink himself blind, but had to settle for pilfered red from the castle stores instead. The night found him holed up in an abandoned storeroom in the belly of the keep, unable to stomach the sight of his brothers in arms. He couldn't stand the sight of himself, either, and the lack of Serwyn's damn mirror shield staring back at him from the common room wall was certainly an added benefit. 

He kept the tapers unlit, the fire raging behind his eyelids more than enough flame for him. He could still feel it around him, heating his armor and poisoning his lungs. It wasn't all that haunted him. 

There was no sleep to be found despite his drunkenness. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the grubby hands of the men he'd killed clutching at silk skirts, or poor Lollys as she screamed in the mud. When he did drift for even a moment, her cries turned to the racking sobs of a girl taking the flat of a knight's sword to her rear; her dull hair rusting to copper in the sun.

He needed to see her, feel her whole and hale beneath himself. If he had been any later; if he'd cut through any more of the masses, been further out when Ser Mandon had abandoned her…

It was the hour of the wolf when gave up the ghost, slinking through the castle on a path he told himself he didn't know too well. She answered her door after the first knock, as if she'd expected him.

"Sandor," she breathed, but he fisted a hand in her hair rather aggressively to hold her still and she fell silent. 

"Quiet," he said anyway, and pulled her into a bruising kiss that had her scrabbling at his tunic. 

"You're -."

"I said, quiet. " He didn't know what made him so angry with her. Perhaps just her beauty, her delicacy. What did she expect would happen to her, walking around looking like that all her life? "Look at me, girl. Look. You ever let another man touch you like that again, I'll kill you both. Understand?"

"Y-yes, ser." A lie - there was no way she knew what he meant, no way she could keep that promise. It was a balm to him all the same.

"Show me." Confusion flickered across her face and he shoved her onto the bed. "Show me your cunt, little bird. Now."

Scrambling to get her shift hiked up over her hips, she spread her legs for him and let him slot himself between them. He shoved at her skirts impatiently, pulling the stays of her smallclothes so hard he nearly ripped them. "Careful," she peeped, and he snarled in frustration, sparing a hand to hold her down by her shoulder as he maneuvered the scrap of cloth out of his way.

He'd be embarrassed to admit the way he sighed in relief when he finally got her bared. "There she is."

She snaked a hand down between them, spreading herself for his inspection like a good, smart girl. "Still untouched. I'm okay." His breath caught in his throat at that and he nodded, his resolve returning to him. Her fingers found his, where they rested on her shoulder. "I'm still whole, promise. They didn't -." She broke off, cleared her throat. "I'm glad you've come to me. I wanted to thank you, for… for saving me." She touched his face. "You were so brave."

"Brave?" He withdrew from her, a snarl curling his lips. He hadn't been brave at all, he'd been scared witless the whole time and desperate to get to her - though it hadn't mattered in the end. "A dog doesn't need courage to chase off rats. They had me thirty to one, and not a man of them dared face me."

Face scrunched up in anger, she tried pushing her skirts down though he kept them in place with his free hand. "Does it give you joy to scare people?"

He couldn't help but laugh at her. "It gives me joy to kill people. Killing, and watching you squirm." To prove his point, he released her skirts to stroke her cunt, slicking himself with her juices. Despite her anger, she'd only grown wetter with his cruelty. 

Her breath stuttered. "I'm only trying -. I only wanted to -." 

"To thank me, yes. Just as if I was one of those true knights you love so well. You want to thank me, little bird, you sing me my favorite song, hm?" He slapped her cunt when she didn't immediately respond. "Hm?"

"Ye-yes, Sandor."

He watched raptly as her fingers returned to her seam, coating herself before stroking up to her pearl and shuddering under the attention.

"Such a good girl, Sansa. Keeping this cunt safe for me."

" You kept it safe, Sandor."

He shook his head at her minutely, stroking his thumb up her seam to collect the small amount of dew he could see gleaming in the dark. When he spoke however, he was all agreement. "'Course I did. That's my cunt, girl. Not like to let some flea bitten tanner's son take it from me." 

She panted as her strokes grew quicker, more confident. The soft sounds of her leaky cunt grew until he thought they'd echo down the hall. He couldn't help but dip his thumb into her then, feel how she clamped around even just that each time she left herself breathless. 

"So fucking tight. They'd have ruined you. Could still." She gasped and he laughed, tugging gently at the rim of her entrance. "Mayhaps I got to you too late. Start a rumor in a soup kitchen that some toothless bastard got his hands on you before I could, hm? They inspect you, find you broken. I say you had your skirts hiked up when I found you. No bloody plotting lordling would want you then."

She shook her head vigorously. "But you wouldn't -. You.. you -. Sandor, you -."

His free hand found her throat. He's gentle, a steady presence to turn her head his way more than a harsh grasp. "No, little bird, I wouldn't. I'm your proper fucking knight, aren't I? " He growled, making it a threat by sinking his thumb oh so incrementally deeper. 

"Ser!" Her free hand found his forearm, delicate claws gaining purchase along the thick musculature there. He moved his thumb within her, miniscule movements meant more to test her than to actually help her along. She was plenty wet, but he spit on her anyway, a long trail of saliva dangling onto her from where he stood upright over her. 

The way she peeped at him sounded admonishing, but the way her movements quickened gave her away. "Liked that, did you?" He adjusted his grip on her throat to pry her mouth open, leaned over ominously and spit in her mouth. She cried out in disgust but obeyed when he told her to swallow it. 

"Good little birdie," he told her, smiling wickedly when it made her moan quietly.

"Ser… ser, please -!" 

"Cum, girl. Let me see how well you love your true, loyal knight," he sneered.

She tightened like a coil, back arching prettily as she sighed and shuddered, a sweet mix of his name and the title she so favored spilling from her lips. It's the finest wine he'd ever get his bloody paws on. Better than he'd remembered, laid out on his cot and fisting himself as he thought of her quiet cries, her sharp little claws.

Lax and quiet, he moved her boneless body up the bed and crawled on after her, lowering himself to his belly between her legs. Instantly wary, she sat up enough to watch him dig his nose into her sweet curls, sniffing at her happily. 

"Please, ser. It's unseemly." She tried to wriggle away from him but he held her in place with a strong arm across her hips.

This time, he quieted her with lips and spit, stroking her sweet pearl with the flat of his tongue until her complaints turned to pitchy, aborted breaths. He pulled away with a wet smack. "Aye, girl, but you'll let me do it anyway."

'Let' would have been a strong word. Sansa squirmed and tugged at him, chirped about propriety and acts befitting her station. He didn't tell her her station would only ever earn her a cold, lifeless bed; how it would turn her very body into a life sentence, keep her full up of heirs until she couldn't make them anymore. He didn't want to give her anything befitting her station. He wanted to keep her sated, give her a litter of pups too low born to ever draw the attention of these scheming lords. So she squawked, but he never listened, stuffing her shift into her mouth as he carried on his assault of her cute little flower until her legs quaked around him and her fingers turned clutching, holding him to herself even as she whined about it. He stroked his cock in rhythm with the pulse he could feel on his tongue until she contracted again, bucking up against his face as her peak broke.

"Fuckin' soaked me, girl," he growled as he walked up onto his knees, keeping her spread open below him. He can smell her even like this, clinging to his beard and drenching her curls. She was breathless and flushed now, pink down to her chest even in the near-darkness. It took her a moment to get her wits back but when she did, she reached for him timidly and placed her hand against his belly. She stared up at him with wide eyes, mouth still stuffed full of her own dress despite her hands being free to pull it out. She mutters something that sounds like 'ser' before wrapping her dainty hand around his own as if to assist. He adjusted their grip, got her soft little digits under his own and squeezed until her grip was perfectly tight. 

"This is how you thank a man, Sansa." She nodded raptly, bringing her other hand to circle his head, watching with obvious interest as his sheath moved with them. "Gods, girl," he grunted, fucking into her grip with abandon. He pawed at her teats with his free hand, wishing he'd had the foresight to get her properly naked before losing himself to his pleasure. 

She stroked him sweetly through his peak, even after he abandoned his own grip to sink onto his fists and fuck her clutch with proper leverage. His spill staining her shift, she only stopped when he hissed in displeasure, his big hand engulfing her wrist as a silent request to stop.

Sitting back on his heels, he gave himself a moment to catch his breath. He couldn't help the sly grin that crossed his face as he peered down at her, sweaty and disheveled, painted with both their cum.

He pulled her skirts from her mouth. "Go on then, girl. What do you say?"

She looked like she wanted to slap him again for that, but she thanked him prettily enough anyway. It was no different when he collected his spend on his fingers, feeding it to her drop by drop just to hear her sputter her gratitude.

But when he flopped on top of her, sated and exhausted, her tone was suddenly far more earnest, thanking him by his name to let him know she was done with their little game.

"Not too 'unseemly'?"

"Don't tease me, please. I was being serious, before. You were so brave, Sandor. Thank you."

It's like a bucket of cold water to wake him up. She never learns anything. "I was being honest too, girl," he rumbled, and she frowned, remembering his response the first time she tried to thank him. "Wrinkle up your face all you like, but spare me this false piety. You were happy enough when I was killing for you. "

"For me?" She spit, "And that's why you killed Ser Dontos, is it? For me?"

" Ser Dontos?" His laugh was more a snarl. "I killed the bloody fool because he didn't even know to where or whom he was supposed to bring you."

She had the decency to wilt, at least. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. I was right all along, girl. Your fucking Florian was just a catspaw. I'd say not even a particularly good one, but somehow the fat bastard knew about the plot to wed the Tyrell girl even before I did. I wonder how he knew that, hm?"

Sansa frowned. "Tyrell girl?"

A beat. Another. "Fuck," the Hound hissed, raising himself to sit on the edge of her bed.

"Sandor?"

She shouldn't know this. He couldn't think of anyone who needed to know it more. "Littlefinger rides for Bitterbridge to entreat a marriage proposal with Mace Tyrell." She continued to blink up at him stupidly, so he clarified, "The crown hopes to persuade Highgarden to their cause by making Margaery queen."

Her understanding of the scope of her problems was evident in the way her eyes trailed sightlessly above his shoulder. "I'm to be set aside?" she laughed humorously. When Sandor leaned away from her, she rolled off the bed and settled her skirts around herself. She looked no more than a waif, pale and skinny and swallowed whole by the dark of the room.

"Little bird, listen -." He cut himself off, catching the open hand strike she whirled on him easily enough. "Careful, girl," he growled, despite the way his spent cock twitched uselessly. She didn't listen anyway, just as angry as him.

"You should have taken me from here," she hissed.

"And gone where?" he thundered, rising to meet her, still holding her delicate little hand in his own.

"I don't care!" she stomped her foot like a little baby, failing to wrench herself from his grasp. "Could have thrown me in the river for all it would have mattered to me, but we had the chance today, Sandor."

Her eyes glitter, Alyssa's tears. "And where was that chance, hm?" He yanks her into himself, towers over her ominously. "Should I have taken you through the Street of Silk? Gotten you raped in the process? Tried for the Lion Gate and been stopped by the blockade? Maybe I should have ridden us through Flea Bottom, burnt us both alive?"

This time, when she swung at him, he simply stepped away, leaving her to twist in on herself dejectedly. "Better than here," she sobbed, and Sandor snarled in disgust before leaving her yet again in a huff.

***

White Sword Tower never was a friendly place for a winesick fool. The hour was early yet, but the dawn always seemed to find his room first specifically, the geometry of the sunrise and the arrowslit of his window somehow always conspiring to land the brilliant, cold light of morning directly on his eyelids. Sandor was not yet abed when he saw the unwelcome shaft across his pillow, electing instead to stare sullenly at it from the floor behind his door where he drank the dregs of his pilfered wine and thought about the little bird's words. He wanted to fault her, scream and rage about how she wouldn't know the very first thing about burning. But as the shaft of light worked its way across the room and Sandor recalled how quickly Baelish had volunteered to carry the proposal to Bitterbridge, as if he had something at stake in the matter, Clegane couldn't help but feel that maybe she was right.

tag request: @isayweallgetdrunk

[rockitmans]

Ellipsis

A/N: This one is for @jazziergin who stumped me in the fic line game. She helpfully asked for Soulmate AU with a twist, obviously an easy thing to embody in a drabble 😛

But here we go, at least it's less than 1k this time. Hope you enjoy, love! Not convinced this counts as a twist but hopefully this is something different.

~~~~~~~

An ellipsis. That's what Kurt has tattooed across his wrist in the place that is meant to display the first words your soulmate says to you. A classic dot dot dot. The most mocking collection of punctuation ever conceived of. 

He has theories. But most of those theories all kind of point firmly in the same direction. He's probably destined to die alone. Even if the ellipsis is meant to indicate something, how is Kurt ever going to find the person that is embodied by something as abstract as a pause? 

He determinedly doesn't think about it when he gets to college. Either he'll find his soulmate or he won't. All he can do is keep an open mind and give himself the best possible chance of finding The One. He even signs up for an English Lit class with the absolute mammoth leap of logic that Lit students are much more likely to use an ellipsis in everyday speech than your average person. Like that’s something that’s likely or even possible to achieve.

He may be losing his mind. 

He regrets the decision immediately when he finds out the lecture is at eight am. He slumps in clutching his coffee and thinking fondly of his bed. He should drop this stupid class. It's way too early and he signed up for dubious reasons and they're reading Lolita for God's sake.  He doesn't need that kind of toxicity in his life. 

The bad mood lasts until the exact second an incredibly cute guy slips into the seat next to Kurt. Dark curls and warm eyes and a tiny waist that Kurt kind of wants to wrap his hands around. Cute Guy tosses an absent smile of greeting in Kurt's direction and it's the most radiant thing Kurt has ever seen. Holy fuck. He thinks he's halfway in love already. 

Kurt wants to say something, but is not caffeinated enough to manage witty repartee and this guy is hot enough to make him feel speechless on a good day. Instead, he goes to nod and then tries to change it to a wave. The result is that he just kind of twitches violently. Fuck. He’s lost it. A guy smiles at him and he’s completely lost it. He quickly grabs his coffee to try and cover for whatever the hell that just was and tries to pretend he’s anywhere else. 

The guy touches his arm, three gentle taps with his finger, and Kurt's eyes snap up, only to be surprised when a notepad is slipped in front of him with a single line of text. 

I'm Blaine. I'm not ignoring you, I just can't talk. 

Kurt blinks, frowning. And then he watches Blaine get his phone out and start up a text to speech app and it clicks. Oh. He gives Blaine a thumbs up and Blaine smiles slightly and touches his ear. Right. Blaine can hear. Which means that Kurt doesn’t have to resort to gestures as well. But he’s an idiot. So of course he did. He genuinely can’t wait for this hour to be over so he can go and walk into a deep fog never to be seen again. 

He does his best to focus on the lecture for the simple fact that the professor seems to be the sort to pick on people at random and he’s already suffered enough humiliation for the day without being caught not paying attention. It’s hard though. He can’t stop stealing glances at Blaine. He feels like he can’t breathe. His pulse is racing. He seriously wonders if he might be coming down with the flu or something.

He’s only dragged back into the moment by the most garbage take he’s ever heard a human being utter so confidently in a room full of total strangers. People usually save that shit for twitter.

"Humbert Humbert being a misunderstood genius is not the hot take I expected to be subjected to today," Kurt mutters before he can stop himself. 

He hears the intake of breath. He practically feels the way Blaine stills beside him. And then Blaine moves in a flurry, tugging up his sleeve to expose his wrist, shoving it under Kurt’s nose. Humbert Humbert being a misunderstood genius is not the hot take I expected to be subjected to today, it says in slanting script.

Kurt's mouth drops open. Blaine gestures, pointing at Kurt's wrist, a question in his eyes. Kurt slowly turns his hand over to show the three dots neatly pressed against his pulse. Blaine frowns and starts to sign something out before remembering. He grabs his notebook instead, scrawling out some quick sentences. 

Disappointed but not surprised to learn the soulmate system is so ableist. It can't even be bothered to have the first words I write to you? Unbelievable. 

Kurt laughs. Mostly out of shock and relief and the feeling of a heavy weight being lifted so suddenly it's like he could float away. All this time he assumed that the dots meant his soulmate would never speak to him for the worst of reasons. But his soulmate is right here. Blaine is here. Blaine is his. He’s literally won the soulmate lottery. 

"I thought you didn't exist," he whispers. "Because of this."

Blaine's eyes soften and he lightly brushes his fingers over the offending dots. But I found you, he writes. 

"You found me," Kurt repeats shakily. And maybe that's where he was going wrong this whole time. Years spent fretting over what the dots meant and doubting that he was ever going to find his soulmate.

It just turned out that all along his soulmate was meant to find him.

[hydrangeyes]

love language

So if you don't know, Yes this already existed, my old account was deleted (accident but I can tell I won't be getting it back), and am reposting my old x male reader works!

I don't know if I saved all of them but here is one that was saved to my AO3 account.

Edit: So shuffling through my docs It's been brought to my attention that wattpad (who I use as backup) Cut a lot of my fics in half??? anyway I'll be trying to fix that also

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lego monkey king character love languages

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wukong:

- It's physical touch

- like come on it's so obvious frfr this man is emotionally constipated

- that and gifts of any kind

- one day you get a shiny rock the next he's giving you an ancient and precious golden pendant or something

- more times than not you can find each other cuddling and sun bathing on his island or temple

- if he's feeling particularly soft or something that is when he speaks up, pulling you aside to play with your fingers as he nervously asks if you know just how much he loves you. (This def feels more constant after the lbd deal)

- at first it was sweet but towards the 3rd hour of him describing everything you basically kiss him silent

- work out around him and all that goes through his head is "buddah I'm so very gay, gay gay gay, my mate is so fucking hot."

- I whole heartily believe he would recite that audio of spike saying "I love a person who can beat him up, I want it to get embarrassing." Just towards you and it's so fucking funny.

Macaque:

- He's vocal and physical.

- vocal in a round about way but def the type to fuss when you have to get up from the cuddle pile for even a sec

- feel like Mac would recite poetry or lines from a play

- will beat someone up for you, a single frown and he's already plotting murder

- in turn melts when you give him a kiss anywhere

- his favorites are on the cheek

- anyway, he wouldn't give you gifts unless its during festivals and such, very much a practical use gift giver

- he doesn't want there to be any doubt that he loves you and knows you love him, and if there's a smidgen of doubt he's blunt in asking

- Besides sandy idk why but probably the most to be very hands down "communication is key" in the relationship

- idk why but he likes hanging or being on your shoulders, whether your short or talk my dude, he's on your shoulders in some way

Tang:

- I head canon he's demi on all accounts cause I want too, so everything starts as friendship

- as time goes he starts dragging you about to his fav places to eat or snack

- seems like the type to bring you back really good food

- he can't cook for shit but he just found this new food place and thinks you might like it

- in a non yandere way keeps tabs on everything you enjoy

- so I guess also a gift giver

- the gifts are food (I would say folklore books but I feel like that's more something you give him and you both read it together)

- hard to say what else as I've convinced my mind that tang is happily married (platonic or not) to pigsy and then both dating sandy, speaking of which-

Sandy:

- everything, he's a giver

- cuddles, gifts, kisses, cooking you meals, talking

- sandy I feel is very loving, just a big old cheese ball

- Just imagining him waking you up with a kiss on the forhead and the smell of your favorite tea and breakfast, mo purr on the bed as you guys talk about what to do today

- I def wanna say he's definitely a "look at my awesome handsome boyfriend/fiancee/husband/partner!" Will Smith pose style

- leaves stick notes of love letters and I love yous everywhere when he is in a rush for work or helping the gang somewhere

Pigsy:

- Easy

- he cooks you meals, he's great at it and it's something he's most confident in

- not just any but handmade and usually family recipes he doesn't make for the shop

- Spending time to show you how to make his family recipes

- a "Why would I buy you chocolates when I can make you chocolate from scratch for sweethearts day?"

- the calmest around you, not that you mind when he's being passionate (about hobbies and a new recipe he's thought of)

- his secret taste tester, before tang he let's you try all the new meals he has planned

- he tries to flirt but he sucks at it, you are kinda into that, it's cute

- He's very vocal but nervous when it comes to affection but gives it in abundance

- the way he proposes is asking if you wanna help parent mk

- if you ever fight (usually on work and taking breaks), you both give each other the silent treatment; pigsby usually caves first (hes hot headed but once he cools down its liek why was i even mad???) and goes to talk things out, usually the shop is closed next day and you both are on a date

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Remembrance of Summer

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

ACCESS: RESTRICTED DECRYPTION KEY: 9HLXY5M999$IKO-006 REP#: 74-EUROPA-REMOTE-AUDIO-DEVICE-MONITORING AGENT(S): AUN-326 SUBJ: VIP#1316 AND ERI-223 INTERACTIONS BETWEEN DARKNESS "LESSONS" - REMEMBRANCE OF SUMMER

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

"You'd think it'd be warmer."

"Why?"

"Because it's Summer."

"Seasons require a pronounced axial tilt in an orbiting body.  Europa does not experience Summer."

"But it is Summer on Earth right now."

"There is always somewhere on Earth experiencing Summer at all times. That is how seasons function."

"Fine, Moondust, but what I mean is it is currently Summer in the Tower."

"We are not in the Tower."

"What gave it away?  The blizzard?  Or maybe it's the knee deep snow?  Or or or... maybe the air so cold it feels like it's rippin' yer lungs out?  How do ya even breathe without somethin' coverin' your face?"

"The same way I can breathe while standing on the Moon."

"Magic?"

"Magic."

"Damn that wind is rough.  I hate ice planets.  Nothin' good ever come outta a ice planet."

"Europa is not a planet. Jupiter is a planet.  Europa is one of its moons."

"Whatever.  It's Summer in the Tower right now and we ain't there.  And if we were there it'd be warm and we'd have Solstice bonfires, an' street food, an' music, and fire dancers at night, and we ain't got none of that here."

"That sounds exhausting, except for the warmth."

"It's nice.  I'll take ya with me sometime if you'll let me.  It won't be exhausting."

"No. I do not like crowds."

"Lotsa spots up high you can go away from everyone and still enjoy it.  You were a Hunter, surely you had spots up high you could sit and brood all gloomy-like in the Tower."

"You think I am gloomy?"

"You think you ain't?"

"Tsch."

"That's not even a you thing.  That's just a Hunter thing that Hunters do.  They brood."

"Hunters are not the only ones who brood."

"Yeah but they do it more than anybody else."

"That is a reductive generalization."

"Uh huh, and you're avoidin' the question.  Back when you was a Hunter, did ya have spots up high in the Tower for broodin' or not?"

"That was another lifetime I can barely remember but... yes I did."

"I knew it!  We should go check 'em out together next time we're there.  See what's changed."

"Bold of you to assume I would be willing to accompany you anywhere."

"That's a great line coming from someone who's accompanying me right now."

"Ugh.  Regardless, the entire premise is foolish.  Unlike when I had my Light, I am now susceptible to falling to my death."

"I'd catch ya."

"Your statement does not fill me with confidence."

"We could tie ourselves together with rope."

"Or we could simply not do the inane activity at all."

"You're just allergic to fun."

"And you are allergic to focusing on the task at hand."

"It is freezin' fuckin' cold, Moondust.  And for reasons that have not been explained, Stranger insists we gotta keep a lookout out here while we wait for her to do... whatever the hell she's doin' in there which I'm pretty sure does not have anythin' to do with teachin' us Stasis, but whatever.  I ain't not focusin' on the task at hand.  In fact I am currently quite focused on the fact that I can't even feel any tasks in my hands because it is so damn cold!  Thinkin' about being warm is the closest thing we got to actually bein' warm right now.  Throw me a bone, here, would ya?  Surely you have some memory of Summer in the Tower."

"Hmmm... Very well.  There was a spot in the Vanguard library with a large window that looked out onto the Bazaar.  It had very comfortable cushions made of red velvet.  I would often sit on the ledge there with a book and the window open.  I remember the breeze on my face and the warmth of the sun."

"What'd it smell like?"

"Old paper and... spices."

"See, that's what I'm talkin' about.  What else you remember about Summer?"

"Mosquitoes."

"Ha! I hate those fuckers."

"There is... a plant.  It is an irritant to the skin and when one brushes against it, it causes blisters.  The itch is terrible and lasts for days.  The only way to soothe it is to use your ghost."

"Oh, I know that kinda plant.  There's a few like that but one is worse than all the others."

"Yes.  It was that one.  At one point, Eriana-3 and Wei Ning had a bet while the three of us were out on a week-long patrol in a heavily wooded area."

"A bet involving poison ivy?"

"That was what it was called!  Yes."

"Woah woah woah, go back to the betting part."

"The bet involved how long one could go without needing one's ghost to relieve the torment."

"Ha!  That's awful!  What kinda exposure-level we talkin' 'bout here?"

"A sleeping bag stuffed with it."

"Ooooh!  Damn!  Were you involved in this?"

"My involvement was that I advised against it."

"Smart.  Wait... Eriana-3 was a exo.  She didn't have human skin."

"Correct."

"That seems a little unfair."

"Wei Ning was never one to shy away from a mismatched battle."

"You're right.  She wasn't.  Drank like a fish, too."

"You have intuited correctly that the decision making process involved alcohol."

"Ha!  Did she win?"

"She did."

"At what cost?"

"Exactly.  It absolutely was not worth it."

"I wouldn't think so."

"I remember her vehement, colourful cursing.  Eriana, laughing.  The dappled light from the sun shifted in little spots of dark and light in the clearing we were in.  The patches of sun and shadow moved whenever the wind shifted the tree limbs above us.  Everything smelled of wet earth tinged with rotting wood.  There were birds.  One in particular was a woodpecker.  It was very loud.  We were being bitten constantly by mosquitoes.  Wei had not slept."

"Can't imagine why."

"She swore she would locate the bird and eat it for dinner as punishment for its failure to be silent."

"Did she ever find it?"

"No.  But she was very verbose in her multiple attempts. We were, all three of us, far too warm and sweaty.  The muggy heat made our clothing under our armour cling to our skin.  Insects biting us.  And Wei kept yelling profanity at the trees.  It was an uncomfortable and ridiculous morning, one I have not thought of in... over a century.  And yet...  despite being surrounded by snow... I can hear Wei Ning shouting at the woodpecker now.  I can hear Eriana-3 laughing at her.  And I am, even in this moment, stilling the urge to smack at mosquitoes which are no longer attempting to pierce my skin."

"You, Eriana, and Wei.  That's a Hunter, a Warlock and a Titan.  Got the full set for a fireteam.  One of each."

"Yes."

"You three must have got into so much trouble together."

"Hmmm... yes... I suppose we did."

"Oh hey!  Looks like Stranger's on her way back.  Time to pack up.  Can't wait to get outta this damn wind."

"Drifter."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Happy Solstice, Three-Eyes."

"Happy Solstice."

[END TRANSCRIPT]

Be sure to check out the rest of the zine! It's full of art and writing from multiple people, including several pieces written by me!

[crazyk-imagine]

Childhood Friends and Boyfriends

Pairing: Ben Wheeler x Fem!reader Characters: Fem!reader, Ben Wheeler, Danny Wheeler, Tucker Dobbs, Riley Perrin, Bonnie Wheeler, Emma Wheeler Warnings: Classic Baby Daddy things, Ben and reader really try to not make it obvious they’re together, Tucker wants to kill Ben, Bonnie stops him, Riley just wants to see someone get hit, Emma wants her tea party, Ben runs out before anyone can say no to babysitting, mentions of Tucker bringing home a hooker  Word Count: 1,995

A/N: There’s barely any content for this show so, I took the initiative to make some :p

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You show up to your childhood friend's apartment and knock on the door. 

A tall man opens the door. 

"Hi," you start off. "I'm looking for Tucker." 

"Oh. He's just-" 

"Oh my god!" Tucker sprints across the living room and barrels into your arms, hugging you tightly. "What are you doing here?" 

"Remember the job offer I told you about?" 

"Yeah, of course." He stares at you for a few seconds. “Could you tell me it again?” 

Your jaw drops. 

He chuckles, “I’m kidding. How could I forget the biggest dilemma you’ve ever had… except for that one time-” He whines holding his arm. “That was uncalled for. 

You roll your eyes, "anyway, surprise." 

Ben walks out from around the corner of the hallway and stops, standing beside Danny. "Who's the hot girl hugging Tucker?" 

You glance over Tucker, as usual. “Why does your voice sound familiar?” 

“My voice- wait, why does your voice sound familiar?” 

“Oh-” 

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Your friend pushes you further away from the Wheeler brothers. “You,” he points to Ben. “Are not going anywhere near her and that’s final.” 

“Hey, do you guys know-” Riley gasps as the door closes, “oh my god!” She squeals, calling your name before pulling you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming to town. What’s going on?” 

The biggest smile you could ever have stretches across your cheeks as you think about the next step of your life. “Oh, you mean other than the fact that I got the best job offer I could and am now moving to the one place I’ve always wanted to.” 

“Oh my god, that’s amazing.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Your Tucker’s childhood friend!” 

You turn back to face Tucker’s other roommates. “Yeah?” 

“It’s me, Ben. The one that always steals his phone when you call.” 

You check him out up and down. “You look...” 

“Incredibly hot and sexy.” 

“-Shorter than you said.” 

“Oh- well- okay, that’s just rude.” 

“Kidding,” you smile. “You look nice, the beard looks good on you.” 

He feels confident in himself after hearing that. 

“Don’t do that.” 

He looks away. 

“Wow, you get him to listen better than mom does.” 

You smile, “I’ve talked to him too many times. I know how his mind works.” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

You ignore Tucker’s stare and glance back at the Wheeler boys. “You’re Danny, right?” 

A wide smile stretches his lips wide from corner to corner. “Yeah, how’d you know?” 

“Just a guess.” 

Emma walks out into the living room and Ben picks her up. "Hey baby." 

"Is this the cutie I've been talking to this whole time?" 

Ben smiles, "you... oh you're talking to Emma." 

You furrow your brows at him, "yes, you weirdo. I'm talking to the baby. You can create fantasies in your head about me some other time." 

"I wasn't- I'm not-" 

"Nope." Tucker grabs your arm. "Not happening. Not in this lifetime. I'm going out, you can find someone else to babysit, man." 

"Oh, I can-" You try to offer your services. 

"Nope. Not happening." 

The door slams shut. 

"Sorry, honey.” The lawyer tells her husband. “I'm going with them, bye!" Riley closes the door, the smile leaving her face. 

-

"Okay, let's go. I want to get to know more about the future Mrs. Ben Wheeler." 

Tucker pushes the elevator door button. 

It takes you a few moments to process what she said. "Wait- what?" 

The elevator closes. 

"Why'd you say that?"

"Because you're the future Mrs. Ben Wheeler. You got him to listen to you faster than his own mother can. You are so going to- don't look at me like that Tucker. You know I'm right." 

"I don't want you to be right. I want to keep him as far away from her as I can." 

"Which won't be long." 

"Riley." 

"What? I'm not wrong." 

“Except for that one time-” 

“Shut up, Tucker… You really do get that a lot.” 

He nods, “I know.” 

"I'm leaving you two before I get trapped here any further." 

They try to pull you back into the elevator but fail as it closes on them. 

“How did she sneak out of here so fast?” 

“She’s always been crafty like that. I’m lucky she didn’t succeed in shipping me off to Russia.” 

Riley glances at him from the corner of her eye. 

“I accidentally ate some of her food when we were in middle school, but I was hungry, and we had just run the mile. What was I supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know. Not eat her food. Is that why you label yours?” 

“Yeah, I learned a lot that day.” 

They try to search for you and continue to do so even as you hang out with Ben and Emma back at the apartment. 

-

"You really managed to ditch them huh." 

You shrug and hand Emma her teacup. “It wasn’t that hard.” 

“Clearly, if they haven’t been here yet.” 

“Or maybe they got tired and stopped for coffee. Oh, hey. What happened to the big one?” 

“Who, Danny?” 

“Yeah, that one.” 

“He had hockey practice.” 

“Oh, that’s right. He's the hockey player. I always forget about that.” 

“It’s okay. I don’t always remember either which is funny because I’m his brother.” He glances over at you. “That didn’t sound good, did it?” 

“Honestly, no.” 

He nods, not wanting to say anything else that can make him sound like an idiot. “Mama.” 

“What?” You stare at Ben with wide eyes. “Where did she get that idea?” 

He struggles to respond, “I don’t know.” 

“Stories.” 

“Maybe her story time reading. She’s heard your voice so much it’s like ingrained in her mind or something.” 

“Ben.” 

“I didn’t do it.” 

“Why do I not believe you?” 

“Wha- okay, that’s rude but I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” He leans in closer to talk to his daughter. “Sweetie, you know she’s not your mama.” 

“Mama.” 

“Oh, God. You got another one pregnant!?” Bonnie shouts, stepping into the living room. “That’s it. Ben, come here. We’re doing this vasectomy today.” 

“What? No, mom! I didn’t get her pregnant.” 

“Wait- is this Tucker’s friend. The one you talk to all the time and obsess over?” 

“No.” 

“I am.” You push yourself out of Emma’s toy chair. “It’s so great to finally put a face to the name.” 

Bonnie smiles, “see Ben. People like me.” 

“I think we’ll get along just fine.” 

“If you like chardonnay. You bet your ass we will.” She glances over at her granddaughter, “sorry, sweetie.” 

You let her take the bottle. 

“We’ll make a trip for more later,” you tell her. 

“You’re officially my favorite, after my perfect little angel. Come on, sweetie. Grandma needs your help picking out a new top.” 

“And, then there were two.” Ben chuckles, patting his thighs. 

“Don’t be awkward.” 

“Right, no. Of course, not.” 

“Are you okay?” You ask and start cleaning up. 

“Yeah, I mean, other than the fact that we’re alone. Totally fine. Why can’t we tell Tucker?” 

“We can’t tell him because he will absolutely lose his mind.” 

“But what if he doesn’t?” 

“He will.” You put her toys in her toy bin. 

“But what if he doesn’t.” He stands behind you. 

“Did you not notice when he did as he pushed me out of here?” 

“Honestly, no because you were looking so cute.” 

You spin around, staring at him with furrowed brows. “What? When have you ever used the word cute in the same sentence when it comes to a female?” 

“Ever since we started talking,” he says, trying to butter you up. 

You hum, “keep going.” 

“You looked really cute when you first came over today.” 

“If cute means hot,” you wrap your arms around his neck. “Then I definitely don’t disagree with you.” 

He smirks, “good. Here’s to me hoping you won’t disagree with this.” 

You two kiss for- who knows how long but you know that it won’t be good when Tucker and Riley come back. 

“What is going on here!?” 

He spins around, “Tucker, hey man.” 

“You two are not doing what I think you’re doing. Are you?” 

“Tucker,” you slowly say, trying to see if he’s calm enough to talk. 

He takes off chasing Ben. 

Riley and you sit on the couch, letting the two men run throughout the apartment. 

“Do you ever plan on helping him?” 

You nod, “I do but I can’t do it now when Tucker is still pissed.” 

She nods, “makes sense.” 

Bonnie comes in, raising a brow at the volume of the apartment. “Anybody want to explain to me what’s going on.” 

You shake your head. “Tucker found out about her and Ben.” 

“Riley!” 

“Like it was going to be a secret.” 

“That doesn’t give you the right to share my information with everyone.” 

“Ben! Get back here!” 

“No, you want to hurt me!” The younger Wheeler man runs into the living room, past his bedroom. 

“You two stop it right now. Ben, come here.” Bonnie grabs Ben before he can run past you three. “Why are you trying to kill, Ben? So, what if your friend is sleeping with him. It just proves she has a bad type.” 

You snicker. 

“Hey.” 

She turns to face her son. “Am I wrong?” 

He doesn’t say anything and alerts his gaze. 

“And you can’t be upset when she is a grown adult who can make her own decisions.” 

“But-” 

She puts her hand up and shouts, “ah! Do not interrupt me when I'm on a role. You two, say you’re sorry.” They’re reluctant to do so until Bonnie gives them a look. 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Good. Now, you,” she turns to you. “Say you’re sorry.” 

“What? Why me?” 

“Because you two decided to go at it like bunnies behind everyone’s back.” 

“But I-” 

“Say you’re sorry so Tuck Tuck can sleep at night.” 

You sigh and push yourself off the couch to stand in front of your best friend. “Tucker, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I’ve been seeing Ben but I’m not sorry for moving to the big apple because now I get to see you and all of these crazy people you call family.” 

His expression doesn’t change until he wraps his arms around you. 

“I was hoping for more screaming.” 

You glance over your shoulder. “Shut up, Riley.” 

She raises her hands. 

“Does this mean I can cuddle my-” 

“No, I’d like to keep whatever innocence I have left,” Tucker tells his friend. 

“Oh, I can’t spend time with my girlfriend, but you can bring home a hooker? How is that fair?” 

“You just can’t let that go, can you?” 

“Not really, no.” 

Tucker shakes his head. “Now that this problem is solved. I’m going to go pour grandma a glass of chardonnay before I get ready to sit down for Emma’s afternoon tea party.” She smiles at her granddaughter as she walks into the kitchen. 

“Oh, mom.” 

“Yes, Benji?” 

“Could you watch Emma for like ten minutes?” 

You raise a brow. 

“Okay, for maybe like twenty minutes while we go out?” 

Before she can protest, he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the door. 

“No, thank you, mom. We’ll see you guys later.” 

The door slams shut. 

-

You giggle and cover your mouth, not wanting him to hear you. 

“And that is how you get people to babysit so you can go on a date.” 

“That was dumping your child onto your friends and family so you could get laid.” 

“I think my explanation was better.” 

“Of course, you do.” 

You two enter the elevator. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

“Somewhere you’ll like. You’ve just got to trust me.” 

“Take me away, Benjamin.” 

He groans. “Don’t call me that.” 

“It’s your name.” 

“Yeah, but you make it sound like I’m in trouble.” 

“Maybe you are.” 

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Or so you think.” 

He calls out for you as you walk through the elevator. “Come back here.”