#if you know this song i love you for ever and ever

[kirby0strombolli]

Knee Socks

matthew sturniolo x reader

Summary: When Matt sees y/n in her Knee socks, he just can't resist her.

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Edging, Giving head, I think that's it.

A/n: I know, I know, I do love Arctic Monkeys songs, but LISTEN TO IT!!

I sigh, frustrated.

The rain pelts against the windshield, blurring the streetlights into smudged streaks of light. Frustration churns in my gut as I grip the steering wheel tighter.

I left work early, unable to focus on anything but one thing: the picture she sent me while I was stuck in the office.

The image burns in my mind, fueling a growing ache towards my erection.

With each passing mile, my boner grows steadily, pressing uncomfortably against my pants.

I shift in my seat, trying to alleviate the tension, but all I can think about is the picture, hovering around in my thoughts, driving me wild with desire.

Finally, I pull into the driveway of my darkened house. Rain pounds against the roof of the car as I sit there for a moment, collecting my thoughts.

With a frustrated grunt, I slam the car door shut and trudge towards the front door.

To my surprise, the lights are still on inside, casting a warm glow through the windows.

You got the lights on in the afternoon,

I check my watch as I reach for the doorknob. Minutes before midnight. Despite the late hour, my heart quickens with anticipation as I step inside.

And the nights are drawn out long.

The familiar scent of her perfume fills the air, sending a shiver down my spine. I kick off my shoes and make my way through the dimly lit hallway, my pulse quickening with each step.

As I glance around the corner, my gaze is met with hers.

She was sitting in the corner, a sly smirk across her face, my sky blue lacoste t-shirt too big for her over her knee socks.

I just wanted to bend her over the counter, and fuck her, there and then, in her knee socks.

"Hey, baby." She says, biting her lower lip, making my head spin.

"Did you get those pictures?" She asked, batting her eyelashes up at me, a seemingly innocent question, but it was far from.

And you were sittin' in the corner with the coats all piled high,

And I thought you might be mine.

Ignoring her question, I begin unbuttoning my belt instead.

She lifts her arms up ever so slightly, caressing my face, causing the shirt she was wearing to ride up intentionally, exposing her thighs, which were only barely covered by the knee socks she was wearing.

In a small world, on an exceptionally rainy Tuesday night,

In the right place and time.

"Strip." I demand, my desire growing, minute by minute.

As she obeyed, slowly stripping, I couldn't help but pause and admire her semi-naked state as she began to slide my top off, leaving her in her matching set paired with her knee socks that made me weak in the knees.

I pulled my shirt off, determined to get what I wanted, and now. As she goes to take her knee socks off, I stop her, smirking lightly, "Keep them on."

She looks up at me with a sultry smile, her cheeks lined with a tinge of pink, "Wanna fuck me in them?" She asks, her freshly manicured nails creeping up my neck, making me shiver.

I bite my tongue, hard.

I didn't know how long I could maintain my composure before I ripped all of her clothes off and fucked her over the counter.

My eyelids flutter shut as she reaches upwards, tracing my jawline with her fingernails.

"Do you want to fuck me in them, Matthew?" She repeats, this time insistent.

When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue Lacoste, And your knee socks.

"Fuck yeah, I do." I reply, licking my lips.

I let my trousers fall to my feet, and I step out of them, the growing tent in my pants painfully obvious.

Without looking up, I feel her grasp my jaw, smashing her lips onto mine. Although surprised, I don't hesitate to kiss back as I grip her hips tightly, backing into the wall.

The rain pounded against the window panes as our lips met in desire and lust, my erection growing with every minute.

I press her against the wall as I find her tongue prodding at my bottom lip. I take advantage, my tongue fighting for dominance, easily winning.

Groaning into the kiss, I feel her hands tangle in my brown curls, but then I remember that she needed a punishment.

I pull away suddenly, yanking her panties down, directing her to the counter, before she even has time to react.

"Bend over, Princess," I demand roughly.

She lets out a small shriek as I roughly push her against the cold kitchen counter, her naked lower half pressed against it.

I slap her ass harshly before yanking down my boxers, my dick springing out, the tip red and covered with pre-cum.

Without warning, I plunge my cock into her walls, she lets out a gasp, arching her back against my cock.

I grab her hips and pound roughly into her, one hand grasping her hair, holding her head up to whisper into her ear, "Not so brave now, are you?"

As I let go of her head, her head lolls back down, trying to reply, but failing, her words gibberish as I fuck her senseless.

I throw my own head back in pleasure, seeing stars from how her pussy clenched against my cock, how it was so perfect, how she could make me so hard just by thinking of her.

I bring my hands up to her white lace bra, and unclasp it expertly before bringing her tits into my hands, slowly massaging her nipples, in contrast to how fast I was pounding into her velvet walls.

"Don't stop," She whimpers, her legs trembling, and her chest heaving with sobs as I frantically hit her G-spot several times, cupping her breasts, making her moan weakly against me.

"You like that?" I tease, bringing my lips back down to her ear, only to be met with breathy moans from her parted lips.

"Shit, shit, shit..." She curses several times, her legs trembling as I mercilessly tighten my grip on her hips, plunging impossibly deeper into her, grazing her sweet spot, making her arch her back, moaning uncontrollably.

"Just like that..." She whimpers breathlessly, her back arching further as her lewd sounds power me to go on.

"Fuck, I'm almost there." I screwed my eyes shut, chasing my orgasm, and feeling her pussy clench tighter and tighter, I knew she was, too.

Then, a mischievous thought appeared in my head, a smirk forming on my face as I opened my eyes, a plan forming in my head.

I was going to edge her.

I let myself release into her, gasping as I shot my load into her throbbing pussy.

"Matt, fuck!" She cries out, her hips bucking up to mine needily.

Suddenly, just as she was about to come, I pull out harshly, pumping my cock, still in pleasure.

"The fuck?-" She whispered, confused, her voice nearly inaudible as she turned to face me, her elbows steadying her on the counter, cum steadily dripping from her.

I just smirk at her, not feeling sorry one bit, "On your knees, Sweetheart."

"But-" She starts before I interrupt her, bringing a finger to her red lips.

"I promise you'll get your time. Just after your punishment." I lick my lips, not hearing her protests, determined to get at least one more orgasm.

"Matty, please. I really need to come." She pouts, tilting her head to the side, in attempts to try to sway my decision.

"Sorry baby. After all, you were naughty. Sending me pictures at work, what did you think would happen, hm?" I reply, tilting her head up with my fingers to look at me, grazing her parted lips with my thumb.

"-It's not fair!" She exclaims, but as sees my face, she goes silent, getting on her knees, looking up at me with her wide doe eyes, making me go hard again.

"I'll make you come extra hard tonight, darling." She considers this for a moment, then upon realising she has no choice, she opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out as I lower my cock into her mouth slowly.

I feel her lick the base of my cock, and my eyes flutter shut as she takes it completely into her mouth, swiftly jerking off what she can't fit in her mouth.

I grasp her hair into a makeshift ponytail, forcing her mouth onto my cock.

"Fuck." I groan, bucking up my hips to her mouth as she quickens her pace, my dick hitting the back of her throat multiple times, making her gag.

She begins to bob her head up and down, throwing me back onto cloud 9, my head tossed back in ecstasy.

"So good for me baby-" I whisper, barely able to talk, from the way she can take me like this.

She hums in response, the vibrations from her voice making me even closer to my orgasm than before.

I grasp her hair tighter, navigating her on my cock, but my grip loosens as I feel my climax arriving, faster than expected.

"I'm gonna..." But before I can finish my sentence, I feel myself come into her mouth once again, and I groan in pleasure as she swallows every last drop.

I slowly pull out, wiping the corner of her mouth with the base of my thumb, and massaging her head with my hands.

I take her hands, helping her up, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Such a good girl." I praise, gently lifting her up by her ass and settling her down on the couch.

"Mhm" She hums, her fucked out expression telling me she wasn't ready for Round 3.

Yet.

[kenntolog]

Other than CoolBF! sukuna and loser gf! Reader, I can't believe many people aren't talking about loner! Choso 😭😭 it's so cute?? 😭 The MYRIAD of things that can happen to them like reader asking choso to do make up on him because 1. It's cute and 2. She wants to practice her make up skills 😭 both are cute

𝝑𝝔 an: thank u thank u thaaank uu, lovely anon!! hope you enjoy this <33 read more here!!

choso literally teleports to your side as soon as you call out for him from your bedroom. he puts away every task he had in hand and walks into your room, giving you a questioning look before he notices you sitting on your bed with a pile of cosmetic stuff by your side. you beckon him to come sit with you and crawl on his lap, making him hiss from the unexpectedness.

"choo~" you cup his cheeks with both hands and beam at him brightly. "can i do your make up?"

honestly, you can do anything you want to him as long as you're in his lap and he can run his hands all over your body, just like he's doing now. so he just smiles at you lovingly and nods in agreement, his heart warming when you squeal in happiness and lean down to peck his cheeks repeatedly.

it's also a bonus that he gets to be so close to you and listen to your endless rambles and watch your expressive face, one of his favorite things to do. to be honest, half of the things you say he doesn't understand generally, but he still nods and says 'sure' whenever you look at him for confirmation.

you put a lot of stuff on his face, he has no idea what is a 'primer' or 'conceaaler', but he knows what is a moisturizer since you force him to at least do that every morning and night. you dab about a million products on his face with a spongy thing while you hum along to your favorie songs and tell him to shut up whenever he joins you too.

"choso! you're gonna ruin the lip combo, stop!" "sorry, pup."

when it's time to put on eye makeup, choso has the opportunity to witness the cute face you make whenever you’re extremely focused on something; brows pinched together and the tip of your tongue sticking out of your mouth as one of your hands tilts his face to the right angle while the other glides the eyeliner over his eyelid. it kind of tickles and he has the urge to tickle you back, but he doesn't want to ruin your hard work so he just stays silent until you are finished.

"oh!" you exclaim as you pull away to look at him. your eyes are glimmering with joy and pride so he takes it that he doesn't look like a clown. "cho, you look so pretty!"

you give him a small mirror, "i do?"

one thing that surprises him is that his dark undereyes are almost fully covered while the tattoo on his nose is visible. his lips are also not colourless anymore, now contoured with soft pink and a covered with a lipstick that's a bit darker and a gloss. there's a matching shade of artficial blush covering his cheeks and his brows look more neat. his eyes have curled lashes and drawn ends, looking more graceful than ever.

"do you like it, choso?"

"if you like it, then i love it."

your smile is so wide that choso can't help his own from stretching on his coloured lips. if you're going to smile like this for him every time then he's ready to be your doll forever.

[witchywcmans]

PLEASE, EAT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after you've been bitten by a sea serpent, you know the consequences are either death or the possibility of turning into one yourself. thankfully for you, laios touden is the devourer of all things monster and he is dedicated to getting that venom out of you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ sex pollen-adjacent, cunnilingus + fingering, praise, breath play (kinda, if you squint), semi-public sex, multiple orgasms. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 3k

song inspiration ━━ too sweet, hozier / more than friends, isabel larosa

author's note ━━ this is the first time I've ever written and posted an x reader one-shot on here, so please be gentle with me lol. I usually only write x oc fics bc I'm a yapper and I love creating characters. but alas...I was perusing the laios x reader tag and wanted to read something with this plot, couldn't find it, so I figured I'd just do it myself 🫡

This was definitely one of the worst situations you’d been in.

You had joined Laios’ adventuring party just a few months prior. They had found you on floor 3 of the dungeon, shivering and mourning the loss of your father. His body, dead in your arms, and beside him lay the lifeless body of a ghoul you had killed. At first, the party’s leader, Laios Touden, had only been interested in taking the ghoul's body so they could use its bones for utensils after the flesh rotted off. But it was Marcille who noticed the tears in your eyes, how you trembled from the cold, and suggested they take you in. You almost declined, not wanting to leave your father’s body, but knowing he’d soon turned into a monster left you with only one option. Your father had been with you for the past twenty-five years of your life, and now, you were leaving his dead body in a dungeon to travel with a group of strangers.

You soon came to appreciate your new party, though, and you felt your father’s spirit within each of them. Marcille had his kindness, Chilchuck had a comparable wit, Senshi was gifted with excellent cooking skills, and Laios … well, you were still figuring that out. And surprisingly, it was Laios who you began to connect with the most. His knowledge of monsters was unmatched, and he had a passion for learning how to prepare them while they traveled deeper into the dungeon. He was overtly blunt, much like you, and possessed similar advanced fighting skills due to both your fathers' teachings.

Sometimes … sometimes though, you found yourself staring at him more than you should have. His face was abnormally perfect, as if he’d been carved by an artist. His tousled ash-blonde hair reminded you of a lion, and his eyes … sometimes you could’ve sworn they were made out of gold, shimmering like molten lava. Each time you thought this way, you smacked yourself when no one else was looking. I mean, Laios was your friend, your party leader. Having a crush, especially in circumstances like these, was unethical. You had always been focused on one thing: helping your party and making it out of this dungeon alive, for your father. You wouldn’t let a little crush deter you.

Everything had been all well and good until today, when you and your party reached the end of floor 4. When Laios had struggled to fight off a sea serpent, you joined him in the lukewarm water, using your crossbow to shoot the creature in the head. Finally, Laios was able to step in to slice the serpent’s head off … but not before the creature could snap its jaw, tearing one fang down your hip. You jumped back, screaming as you felt the venom seep into you instantly. Some said sea serpent venom would kill you immediately, others said it turned you into one of them, cursing you to haunt the waters with them as penance. As soon as the head was cut, Laios carried you away from the water, and the last thing you heard was Marcille cursing him out before you were rendered unconscious. 

You were woken up – hours, maybe days later – by a drop of water hitting your face every few seconds. Lifting your head from the makeshift tunic pillow, you took in your surroundings. You were at the entrance of floor 5, in a damp corner of cobblestone, while water dripped down onto the floor every so often. There was a moist bandage covering your side where the serpent’s fang had cut into you, part of your tunic ripped to shreds. Hunger boiled in your stomach, making you groan and rub your head. Laios was sitting just a few feet away, a small fire in front of him to keep warm. Marcille had to have helped him with that; there was no way to craft a fire in an area this damp.

“Am I dead?” You asked softly. 

Laios immediately turned in your direction, his mouth lifting in a smile. “Of course not.”

Your stomach did flip flops as you took in his smile, hunger consuming you. You needed something to eat – bad. Your body felt hot and sweaty, and you wondered if it was just from the humidity, even though Laios didn’t look affected. Sitting up, you informed him, “Well, that was one of two options my father said would happen from a sea serpent bite. Which means …” You lifted the bandage up, noticing the gills that started to form on the healing wound. A turquoise hue surrounded the gills, almost like a bruise. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered.

Laios stood, looming over you while asking, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the other option,” you replied, too hungry to cry. “The bite is –”

“– Turning you into a sea serpent,” Laios finished. “Honestly, I thought that was just a myth. But when the bite didn’t kill you …” His mouth twitched, tongue darting out to wet the corners of his lips. “We have to suck the venom out. That has to stop the mutation.”

Your head snapped up. “Huh?” 

But as soon as your eyes met his, you started to wondered if what you were experiencing was hunger after all. Perhaps … a different kind of hunger. Laios stared down at you, the sparkling gold replaced by a dark hazel. It was just you two in this little corner of the dungeon, but you suddenly felt exposed, so naked, under his gaze. Your body was hot all over, sweat sticking to uncomfortable places. And your thighs … a burning need emerged between them, soaking the thin linen of your undergarments. This had to be a symptom of the bite, but it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. Your worry had been replaced by an ache that only he could fix.

No – absolutely not. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. You were turning into a sea serpent.

But the need between your legs still throbbed.

“It’s like when a snake bites you on the surface,” Laios said, crouching down to your eye level. His closeness made your heart rate pick up. You realized then that he had shed his armor, kneeling in front of you in just his gambeson, which clung to his muscles and wide frame. “A sea serpent is part snake. Sucking out the venom should stop the mutation. You’ll probably experience symptoms from the bite for a few more hours, but they’ll stop eventually.” 

He started to peel back the bandage, taking a look at the gills forming on your hip when you gripped his wrist. Immediately, his skin burned, making you even more hot. You ripped your hand away from him, and with sweat trickling down the side of your face, you said, “Don’t you think this is … weird? Maybe Marcille should do it.”

“Marcille and the others just went back to another part of the level to find dinner. They won’t return for an hour, at least. This can’t wait.” He inspected the turquoise gills with concern, before his eyes snapped back to yours, noticing the way your black pupils filled almost the entire iris. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It’s just …” What exactly was the reason again? Oh, yes, it was pulsating hunger dripping between your legs from the bite, and you were terrified how you’d react the second his lips wrapped around your wound. The symptoms would just get worse. But he was right – this was the only way. Fuck, this had to be the most embarrassing thing you’d ever experienced. 

“Fine,” you finally relented, lying back down on the cobblestone. You did your best to get comfortable, but the makeshift pillow hardly provided much cushion between you and the floor.  “What should I do?”

“Nothing, just lay back and let me take care of it.” Laios lifted your tunic a smidge, and just the tenor of his voice made your ache even worse. “We’re just gonna … get this out of the way. And then …” His fingers hooked on the waistband of your pants, and you immediately clutched his collar. If you touched his skin again, you were sure to moan.

Laios looked from where your hand was gripping him and back to your eyes. “Your pants need to be off so I can have better access to the mutation. It’s on your hip.” You swallowed hard, knowing he was right, and your hand started to slip off his collar. “We’re friends, right?” He asked.

You nodded weakly.

“Good,” he smiled again, and you struggled to hold back a plea for him to touch you. He pulled down your pants, tossing them to the side. For a moment, he paused, taking in your soaked underwear and running his fingers over the mutation on your hip. He licked his lips again, and then said in a rather blunt tone, “You’re so –”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, snapping your eyes shut to prevent further embarrassment.  Though you had never minded Laois’ occasional lack of social cues, this was one of those moments you needed anything but. “Just get the venom out.”

Laios tugged your underwear down a little to see if the mutation had spread. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he informed you, lowering his head to your hip. “I’ve read that these bites can have a multitude of internal symptoms. Nightmares ... sweating … fever …” He ran his tongue over the gills, making your breath hitch instantly. “… And especially, arousal. Neat, huh?” He chuckled, and just his warm breath on the gills made you even more wet. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he assured before finally wrapping his mouth on the wound.

Your body burned even hotter than before as soon as his lips touched your skin. He sucked the venom out of you, spitting out blue globs every other second. His hands gripped your side, digging into your flesh and leaving crescent shapes from his nails. As you felt the gills start to close up, you couldn’t help but moan and arch into nothing. This felt better than any time you masturbated … any time you imagined your party leader above you … Fuck, who would’ve thought sucking sea serpent venom out of you would feel this good? Thank the gods the rest of their party was off catching dinner. You couldn’t deal with them possibly hearing this.

It surprised you when your orgasm flooded through you like a crashing wave. As Laios finished sucking out the last of the venom and the mutation closed, your arousal came to a definite peak and you let out a whine. You grabbed his arm, cumming from absolutely no stimulation.

Laios didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he was mostly preoccupied with inspecting the area. You opened your eyes, your cheeks tinged pink, and saw the globs of venom to the left dissipate to nothing but water. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry, I –”

“The mutation closed. I was right!” Laios looked down at you, a big grin covering his face. “How do you feel?”

“Well, I definitely don’t feel a second set of lungs on my hip anymore.” You lifted your hand when you noticed a trickle of blue staining his lip, wiping it away with your thumb. “But I … my body is still …” The ache inside you had simmered slightly, but it was still there, lingering underneath the surface. 

This was genuinely humiliating. Maybe you should’ve just decided to turn into a sea serpent after all.

Laios grabbed your wrist before you could pull away from his face. He leaned into your palm, running his long nose down to your inner wrist. “Your skin is so warm. I can still smell how aroused you are from the serpent bite.” His eyes burned into yours, keeping your hand close to his face. “I can help. Do you need another release?”

Your cheeks got even more red when he acknowledged your orgasm. Shaking your head, you said, “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I can just –”

“I’d be honored to,” he replied, quite gruffly and persistent. His fingers tugged your underwear down with precision and ease, despite the damp fabric clinging to you. He spread your legs wide and placed them on his shoulders. Lowering himself down, he inhaled the scent of your climax and hooked his arms around your inner thighs. He smiled up at you – your pretty face red with embarrassment – all dopey-eyed and grateful. “You lot like to call me the devourer of monsters. Perhaps I should devour the last bit of monster out of you.”

He inhaled again, groaning like he typically did when he was hungry. His hot breath against your achingly wet pussy made you whimper with desperation. “You smell so good down here,” he whispered. “I’d wager you taste even better.”

You gasped as soon as he dove between your legs, licking a stripe through your folds, tasting your recent orgasm. He flicked his tongue over your clit before sucking on it with feverish excitement. Slick gathered on his tongue and he whined, needing more. So much more. You were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. Better than any monster, better than anything on the surface. 

“So good,” he muttered into your pussy, lapping against your clit, doing anything that would get him more of your arousal. “You taste so, so good.”

You whimpered out his name and attempted to close your legs, but he held them opened with all his strength. His arms wrapped around your thighs went tight, bruising the sensitive flesh. Your jaw went slack while your own hands scrambled for purchase, eventually landing in his cropped hair. You tugged, hips bucking against his face, making him groan even more. This allowed him to hold your hips a little higher, and his tongue finally dipped into your leaking entrance. You heard him grunt the second he plunged his tongue deeper, his nose nuzzling your clit. 

He devoured you like a starved man. He devoured you like you were a boiled scorpion, or roast basilisk, or – even better – like sweet, delicious homemade cheesecake. 

“Laios,” you whined, feeling your fever dissolve with each lap of his tongue. “Laios, it’s … fuck – it’s okay, I feel –”

“Need more,” he muttered, his voice low and laced with need. He was practically humping the stone floor as he buried his tongue as far as it could go inside you. Your hips couldn’t stop bucking forward, riding his face as you felt your orgasm building at the base of your stomach. Laios was completely transfixed. He wanted to be here, nestled between your thighs, for every meal. He’d take you away from the rest of the group before dinner, lapping away to the sounds of your pleas and whimpers, so help him gods. He’d do this every day, every night, whenever you wanted, for as long as he was alive. Fuck monsters. He could survive off the taste of you for the rest of his life.

Slipping his tongue out of your hole, he went back to sucking on your throbbing clit and feeling your legs start to tremble. You had to be close to another release, and he was desperate to taste it. He paid all his attention on your clit, snaking one hand up and sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into your entrance in tandem. “Fuck,” you moaned, tugging on his hair once again, “fuck – gods, Laios. I – I’m s-so close –”

“Please,” he begged, smearing your slick all over his mouth. “Please, you’re so good. Need to see how you taste when you release on my tongue.” His own hips continued to buck against the floor.

You choked on a cry when you finally came all over his tongue. He groaned, loud and drawn out, when he finally got a taste of your sweet climax, knowing that it was him that brought you to this point. The orgasm felt long, like the ocean bringing you in and out, and your whole body trembled. He continued lapping at your clit as it pulsed under his tongue, his fingers curling inside you through your orgasm. When you finally breathed out and started to come down from the high of it all, Laios stayed between your thighs, allowing his tongue to gently swirl your clit. Maybe if he continued, he could taste a little more of you …

You found your voice, hoarse from overstimulation. “Laios, please, you have to stop,” you begged, yanking his head up from between your legs. His mouth was covered in your slick, and then he was giving you that dopey expression again, making your heart clench. Your body was no longer hot and sweaty. Laios had completely cured you of the sea serpent bite with that expert mouth of his. He unwound his arms from your thighs, bringing his fingers that were still covered with your wetness to his mouth, tasting the last of your orgasm. You watched him, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, until he was looking at you again with those golden doe eyes.

“That was amazing,” he said, like he was in a haze. When your eyes flickered down, you realized he was hard in his pants, but it wasn’t like he even noticed himself with the way he was staring at you. “We should do that again sometime.”

He stood up, and you scrambled to pull your clothes back on before the group came back. You stammered, “It’s okay, uh – we don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to. We could just –”

“I want to,” he cut in, a determined look in his eyes. “What are friends for, right?” 

[worldlxvlys]

Omg could you do a Matt version of the tiktok au thing you just made for Chris PLEASE IM BEGGING

TIK TOK

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: cursing, sexual jokes

a/n: since y’all liked the chris one so much, here’s the matt version !!

*click yes to actually watch the edits*

WATCH VIDEO ?

yes. no.

COMMENTS:

@ y/n

it’s me guys, i’m people 🤭

@lustfulslxt

the things i’d let that man do to me

-> @ y/n the things i’ve let that man do to me

-> @sleepysturnss OH ????

-> @sturncakez care to share w the class 🤨

@sophssturn

MATT + CARNIVAL IS SO 😫

-> @xoxo4chrisss I’M SAYINGGG

@ y/n

is it crazy to say that i moaned at this edit ??

-> @mattsneezing yes (same)

-> @mbbsgf it’s ok i moan every time i see matt 😋

-> @mattslolita i’ve found my people 🥰

@chr1sgirl4life

i’m a chris girl, i’m a chris girl, i’m a chris girl

-> @ y/n that wasn’t very convincing girl

-> @venusxsturnio it’s ok to love them both

-> @ y/n ok katherine pierce 😍

WATCH VIDEO ??

yes. no.

COMMENTS:

@ y/n

my eyes just rolled into the back of my head

-> @ mattsturniolo proof ? 👀

-> @freshloveee oh my !

-> @queen161718 MATT 😭

-> @starsturniolo i feel like i’m interrupting

@ y/n

THE RINGS THE RINGS THE RINGS I’M GONNA PASS OUT OH MY GOD

-> @ mattsturniolo this is why i wear them

-> @defnotayonna awww how sweet

-> @ y/n no not sweet he’s trying to kill me 😫

@robins-scoop

i’m in love with matt’s fits

-> @smoothies-are-cool i’m in love with matt’s face

-> @55sturn i’m in love with matt’s tats

-> @ y/n i’m in love with matt

-> @urmom2bitch i’ll be sleeping on the side of the highway tn !

@ y/n

this song is actually me @ matt

-> @sturniolowhore this song is actually me @ u

-> @hearts4chriss nah real cs chris is my man but matt ???? good lord 😮‍💨 (don’t tell chris)

-> @ y/n ok i won’t girl !! (@ christophersturniolo)

-> @ christophersturniolo this is why i have commitment issues 😕

WATCH VIDEO?

yes. no.

COMMENTS:

@ y/n

the amount of times i’ve made matt do push-ups in front of me bc of that one clip 😫

-> @bernardenjoyer girl next time record it tf ??

-> @ y/n who says i didn’t ????

-> @readerakayourname sharing is caring babe

-> @nikolastrn gatekeeping isn’t nice

-> @ y/n i fear i’m just not ready to share yet

@breeloveschris

my man is just so 😫

-> @ y/n aren’t you a nate girl ?? worry about him 😒

-> @rootbeerworshiper exactly like stay away from MY man tf

-> @ y/n nah girl nice try tho

-> @luverboychris my man’s brother looks so good here

-> @ y/n yesss there we go, chris is all yours bae

-> @ christophersturniolo DID YOU JUST GIVE ME AWAY ??? 😟

-> @ y/n uh….no 😄

WATCH VIDEO ??

yes. no.

COMMENTS:

@ y/n

GOD DAMN MY MAN IS FIIINNEEEE 😫

@ nicolassturniolo the way i just watched y/n fall to the floor while watching this

-> @endereies SHE’S SO REAL FOR THIS

-> @raysmayhem-72 she’s me, i’m her

-> @ christophersturniolo YOU EVER MAKE A BITTY HIT HER KNEESSSS

-> @ y/n chris stfu hoe you literally fell to the floor too

-> @ christophersturniolo CAUSE YOU PUSHED ME ??

-> @patscorner stop fighting guys, can’t we all just get along ??

-> @ y/n tell chris to stop and i will

-> @bernardsbendystraws nah keep fighting y’all, this is my chance to snatch matt up from y/n

-> @bueckerssturns you go, i’ll keep her distracted

-> @ y/n Y’ALL KNOW I CAN SEE YOUR COMMENTS RIGHT 😭

-> @junnniiieee07 you’re dreaming rn none of this is even happening

-> @ y/n NOT YOU TRYING TO GASLIGHT ME

-> @ christophersturniolo gaslighting isn’t real you’re just crazy

-> @ y/n i swear to god chris

WATCH VIDEO ??

yes. no.

COMMENTS:

@ y/n

i’m on my knees for this man

-> @ mattsturniolo aren’t you always ??

-> @teapartyprincess4two the way my jaw DROPPED

-> @imwetforyourmom OH MY GOD ???

-> @chrisloyalgf god, it’s me again 😔

@ christophersturniolo

just watched y/n add this to her matt folder of over 3k edits 😍

-> @ y/n the next time you ask me for a ride i’m letting your ass walk

-> @yamamasjumpercables WHY DID CHRIS EXPOSE HER LIKE THAT 😭

-> @vanteguccir this is what i mean when i say me and y/n would be best friends

-> @selenascorner me and y/n might actually be the same person

@ y/n

chris over here acting like he doesn’t have a matt folder of his own…

-> @ christophersturniolo i’m done with this app for the day 😒

-> @chrisstopherfilmed chris just got ate tf up

-> @bbglmfao she clocked him quick too

@evieolo

watching chris and y/n beef in the comments under matt edits is the highlight of my day

-> @l0ser43v3r they’re always exposing each other 😭

-> @ineedchriscock matt is always lurking and just watches it

-> @ y/n he thrives off of watching the chaos

-> @ mattsturniolo you’re not wrong

CREDITS:

@ m6ttfilms on tiktok

@ hcrrysgf on tiktok

@ stvrnielo on tiktok

@ skyesturniolo on tiktok

@ .sturniolocentral on tiktok

masterlist

[seobsroot]

GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THOSE BOOKS

summary: lee heeseung loves to annoy you while you do your work, it all goes south when you have to tutor him

contains: nerd x secretly smart guy who acts stupid just to get close to them, gn reader

you opened your textbook and got out your notebook and got ready to start to answer the questions. you heard the chair beside you move back and you already knew who it was. “y/nnnn heyyyy.” he said in a sing-song voice and you rolled your eyes. “hey heeseung.” you spat and he frowned.

“don’t be like that y/n. what are you working on?” he peered at you and you looked up from the limitless amount of words on the page. “the book questions. what you also should be working on.”

you’re probably wondering why you’re being so mean to him, it’s only because he doesn’t know how to leave you alone. unlike some people, you cared about your grades and getting your work done. “oh really? when is it due?” he asked and you huffed. “in 3 days.” he nodded and looked at your page. “how much do you have left?” you held up 3 fingers to indicate 3 more questions.

“wait how many did we have to do?” is his serious. this was assigned last week and he’s had all the time in the world. “20.” you replied and he nodded. you knew he was about to say something else and you shook your head, “no more questions.” he frowned and pulled out his phone when the teacher came up to him.

“heeseung. you’re failing this class.” he acted shocked, but he knew this was gonna happen. ever since he started noticing you, he stopped doing his work. he knew you were the top student in the class and he knew if he could fail at one point, he could finesse a tutoring session. “y/n. i hate to do this to you with your busy schedule, but do you think you could tutor him?” you sighed and nodded.

heeseung was jumping with joy on the inside at your agreement. you set up for the session to be thursday at 3:30. he was ecstatic waiting for the day. when the day rolled around he swore he raced in his car to your house. he had to act all nonchalant when he walked up to your door. he took a deep breath and knocked. “one second!” you shouted and soon showed up.

when you opened the door and he was shocked at what he saw. he was so used to seeing you all dressed up everyday at school, no wrinkles in your clothes. to see you in an oversized tee shirt and some basketball shorts. he still thought you looked beautiful and he walked inside.

“do you want any water or something?” he trailed behind you and said a quiet no. you ended up in your dining room. he looked around to see baby pictures, family pictures, and other things. he smiled at you in one of the pictures of you on the beach under the sand. “hey. let’s get out your stuff yeah?” you snapped him out of his thoughts and he nodded.

he pulled out his science book and go to work. he secretly already knew how to do this, but having you teach him how to do it made it all the better. halfway through, he honestly just stopped listening to you. he started staring at you and you stopped talking. “are you listening to me?” you tapped him and he shook his head.

“what’s the point of being here if you’re not gonna listen?” you shook your head in disappointment and he lightly touched your face. “can i kiss you?” he asked and you stared at him and slowly nodded. he was crashing his lips against yours. his lips were so soft and delicate. you deepened it more by putting both of your hands on his cheeks. his cheeks started to flush and you felt them.

you let off of him and he was still blushing. “that was nice” he said breathless. “you never needed help in the first place did you?” he shook his head no. “i actually know how to do all this stuff already. i just wanted to get you to notice me.” he admitted and you laughed. you leaned in to kiss him again. “well lee heeseung, you could of just said that.”

this might be my longest thing i’ve wrote

[b00tyliciousbabe]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

barbie tingz

marcus scribner x THICC male reader

summary: just marcus loving you like with his heart, soul, and FAT SCHLONG. slight feminisation - don’t kill me.

notes: LOVELIES! hope everyone is having a beautiful day. i wanted to let y’all know that i will be taking a lil break because it’s exam season. don’t be sad…because this means i have an entire summer of smutty content to write and catch up on! ps. each word in this fic is me being another squat closer to the fattest ass in the world. ENJOY!

ALSO! the met gala is tonight! my favourite event of the year, i might make a short rec…how do we feel about that?

song rec: ‘freak’ - victoria monét

marcus was well on his way to establishing a name for himself in hollywood. booking new roles, alongside his debut as a director, he was on track for a career that would rival his mentors. but if you were to ask him what his biggest achievement was, he would say being with you. the corny mf has actually reiterated his adoration multiple times during interviews, and the world is obsessed with how lovestruck he was. aside from being social media’s favourite young couple, you, yourself, had a blossoming career in fashion that meant you were styling your man to make sure he looked good for his press tours.

notoriously, you garnered a reputation for EATING UP on the carpet - zendaya being your only competition. this ain’t no exaggeration, but every time you’d step out, those fits would break the internet. thus, when the news dropped that you’d be attending the premiere with your boyfriend, all eyes would be on you - yet again. having you on his arm, instantly elevated his aesthetic. not that he ever saw you as some pawn too boost his career, you meant the world to him, but your beauty as his trophy wife made him even more palatable. usually, you’d have an entire glam team by your side cultivating your iconic, polished look. but, you and marcus had both been working so hard, to the detriment of your relationship, and so you decided to spend the night at his, agreeing to do all the glam yourself.

‘Y/N,’ Marcus bellowed from downstairs, putting on his rings, and spraying cologne onto his clothes. ‘baby, we gotta go.’

‘Y/N! over here! to the left! Y/N!’ a flurry of paparazzi screamed. ‘the body is TEA!’ one reporter exclaimed, making you laugh.

you graciously blushed. they weren’t wrong, your pear-shaped figure, defined abs, and toned arms were nothing short of a sculpted masterpiece. amidst the bbl allegations on twitter, and every tabloid claiming to have the secret to getting an ass as perfect as yours, YOU were the standard. a beautiful, androgynous mix of allure and charm. not even chris evans, america’s ass, said that you had the best glutes in the industry. it was a thing of wonder; something so many lusted for, and even more desired to have a piece of whilst having you in backshots. there were an array of wolf whistles from the public whenever you walked, swiftly followed by a gaggle of photographers snapping shots of your post-gym bawd.

marcus soon joined you on the carpet after finishing up on his interview. if the sensory overstimulation of flashes and cheers wasn’t enough, this was heightened when marcus snaked his arm around your lower back. whispering sweet nothings into your ear, spectators were foaming at the mouth by his public proclamations of love, hiding your blush from the world.

‘don’t be shy,’ he said lifting your chin to his face. ‘there’s that smile I love.’ the whole crowd was gushing, you could’ve cringed at how clingy he was being in public, but found his confidence to do so, all the more endearing.

one thing that you sly liked about marcus, was how he jealous he could get, so many of his friends and industry buffs would come up to talk to you during the interviews, coming up for hugs, and even though he trusted you, his need to protect had him riled. marcus had a great relationship with all of his co-stars and they all became such a family over the filming process. you being there made the family even stronger, embodying the role of MOTHERRR in more ways than one, and they all appreciated your kindness. always there to soften the stressful tones of your bf’s criticism.

you were particularly close with his friend from another project, and due to mutual management you spent a lot of time in the same spaces. he came up and hugged you from behind, before being whisked away to speak with another reporter. all but a few seconds, lasted an eternity, the worst kind, burned into the possessive psyche of your man.

moments passed and it was time for group pictures on the carpet. you and marc were dead center, with his large hands gripping you tighter than usual. you looked up to see he was scowling, ‘lighten up bubs.’ you giggled, to which your bf fixed his face - he could never stay mad when you were always there to calm his demons. not long after, the same face screw, that made his nose look so cute came back, as he remembered the voices of the media resounding in his head.

‘damn I’d hit that.’

‘Marcus is one lucky mf to be all up in dat pussy’

‘I bet the recoil on that thing is insane.’

it infuriated him to hear how the public spoke about you, as if you were some object, and not the kind person he grew so enamoured with. ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you gon’ beg me for mercy.’ he whispered , breaking that veneer of respectability for a brief moment, squeezing your butt, then turning back to smile at the cameras. you’d never seen that side to him, it’d be a lie to say it didn’t turn you on.

throughout the screening, he made sure to let you know that all your teasing would soon be dealt with. the vulgar remarks were still plaguing him, and you knew you were about to be on the receiving end of it. literally.

‘upstairs.’ he said sternly,

the two of you started kissing, unbuttoning his shirt as he unbuckled your pants to free the globes of juicy flesh he loved so much. strewn across the floor, all fear of creasing the custom couture outfit you were wearing had disappeared - the overwhelming desire to make love to your boyfriend clouded your judgement.

you get down to business, kneeling to align your lips with his cock head. ‘don’t take this the wrong way.’ marcus sighed, urging you to stand up, so frail against how tall your man stood.

‘Y/N, i just wanna fuck right now.’

you knew how badly he needed this, and a part of you liked how desperate he was to be inside you. but it was bizarre, marcus loved watching you suck him off, getting him all lubed to plough your hole, almost as much as you loved gagging on his meat. nonetheless, you obliged, bending over as you had your knees on the edge of the bed, hole puckering at the chill of the air. marcus grabbed your left cheek, caressing and massaging your upper hip.

‘so fucking soft.’ he whispers against your skin, kissing at your taint. it was as if he snapped out of his love drunk trance, and was left a primal shell of himself. he practically ripped off your underwear, leaving your naked bodies to rub up on each other as he scrambled to find lube.

‘fuuuuuuuk’ he groaned.

his thick schlong fit like a glove in your inviting hole, slick from your desire and his precum.

‘damn i missed that boy pussy’ - LIES. that man combusts if he isn’t inside of you at least 4 times a week - wtf was there to miss? this sentiment made you smile at how whipped he was for you though.

his pace quickened. pulling his entire length out of you, except his bulbous tip, and spitting directly on your pussy to get you even more slick. ‘hear that baby,’ he praised the ‘mac n cheese’ sloppiness of your hole. ‘your pussy was made for me.’ he was right; most guys love skinny twinks because their petite butts made their tops’ look hung. despite the voluptuous curves you had, you were ample in both chest and derrière making average look like a micro penis inside you. all but marcus. he overpowered you in ways no other man could, his thick, girthy cock stretched you out in a way that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. not to mention his length, during your first time he could barely fit half in without it feeling like he was stabbing your insides. but after some practice, you started taking him - ALL of him.

his grunts deepened. ‘practically begging me to cum inside that hole.’ gripping your hair up fucking you in doggy. style. marcus began leaving love bites on your neck, marking you for all to see. his big hand crossed to caress your childbearing hips. whoever said men can’t get pregnant must’ve never accounted for marcus’ determination. his dick wanted to make you a mother so badly, and nothing was going to stop him trying.

‘you can take it.’ he praises. ‘all. of. it.’ slamming into you with a bold rhythm on his final three words. and that you could. your hole was heaven for him. every time he would enter, your thick meaty globes would bounce like jelly on his lower abdomen, making marcus even more inclined to give you your reward. you moaned out in ecstasy, your bodies were made for one another.

‘who’s pussy is this?’ his grip on your neck became tighter, still allowing you to moan out in response, ‘it’s yours marky, all yours.’ fuck. you were whipped, almost as much as he was. ‘that’s right baby, moan for me.’

‘scream like the little bitch you are.’ you and marcus both enjoyed the passion of rough sex, but this was something you hadn’t ever seen in him before. he was a beast and you loved it, way more than you could ever admit. there was something sweet about the high you were on as you were being impaled by his dick.

particularly, he relished in hearing your slutty cries, ‘music to my fucking ears.’ praising you ‘my pretty little slut, fuck yeah, you want my load.’

‘fuck yeah marc, give it to me please.’ you screeched, loving how hard he was clapping your cheeks.

‘shiiiiiiit, baby, fuuuuuck.’ he spouted, spilling his pearliness into your pussy. he used his thumbs to kneed the dough around your hips, losing himself in the bakery he so enjoyed visiting every morning for breakfast.

gently, he collapsed on top of you, still inside the warmth of your flesh. after a gentle make out sesh, cockwarming your boyfriend until he was soft, your bf brushed up against you. massaging your thick thighs, marcus tended to the bruises he gave, kissing them reassuringly. you ushered him to lay his head between your pecs, as he put his entire body weight onto you. he sighed deeply, feeling safe in your warm embrace. ‘marc, is everything okay?’ you stroke his face, as your fingers laced into his curls. he snickered groggily, ‘shouldn’t i be asking you the same thing?’ - a fair question because he litch just wrecked your shit. ‘real, but we both know that in a couple hours i’ll be fine.’ a silence filled the room, concern brewing in your heart. you played with his ear, knowing how he becomes putty in your hands. ‘fuuuuuck, you ain’t gon’ stop unless i talk, right?’ you kept quiet, trailing the tips of your fingers on his lobe. he sighed deeply, ‘i just get so possessive over you.’ his last words muffled by your ample bosom as he came to the realisation that the press’ words got to him more than he thought.

sitting up, marcus exhaled deeply. ‘i can’t even blame them for ogling, you’re so beautiful.’ ‘but u ain’t an object, and i hate that people treat you like that.’ you caressed his cheek with a loving care. ‘call it jealousy, possession, toxic - I don’t care. you’re all mine.’ marcus always felt the need to take care of what was his, doing better than what he had seen throughout his childhood.

you had an idea, trailing your fingers down his torso, circling his belly button, ‘why don’t you show me again?’ whispering into his ear as he breathed out in pleasure.

you kissed his cheek, before slowly massaging his dick tip, ‘how much do you love me.’

marcus turned you over. stroking and licking his ear, y’all were so intimate. he held onto the grooves of your waist, fucking into you slowly, marking your neck with his saliva.

‘you’re such a dream to me Y/N,’ he always had a way with words that made you smile like a school girl. ‘I was so selfish before, you didn’t even come.’ you always placed marcus’ pleasure above your own, but he was never satisfied with just brutalising your hole. he needed you to enjoy taking his dick, just as much as he enjoyed gaping your hole.

‘guess I’ll have to fuck another load in, to get one out of you.’ he joked, sucking on the sweet skin of your plump ass.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

[arrow-luv]

Morning, Sweetheart

Pairings: GN!reader x Retired!Simon

Warnings: None really. Just fluff, but maybe a lil kissing, age gap (not explicitly said)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Simon stirred awake, groaning softly as he rubbed his eyes. He sat up, glancing over to your side of the bed, only to find it empty. His brows furrowed, but he heard the familiar sound of sizzling of bacon, or some sort of food, on the pan from the kitchen ever so faintly, and the music you always listened to, he knew where you were. He sighed softly in relief, his shoulders loosening.

He swung his legs over the bed, standing up and stretching out, his joints popping slightly (old man). He grabbed a worn pair of pyjama pants, slipping them on before he left to go downstairs, not even bothering about his mask.

When he saw your figure, standing in front of the stove and humming softly to the song, his gaze softened slightly. Simon still didn’t understand how you were so nice to him, showing him the love he needed. He was older than you, not by much, he was cold, distant, and hated people in general. But despite himself, he loved you unconditionally.

He came up behind you, now just noticing you were wearing one of his shirts over your sleep shorts, and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “G’mornin’, sweetheart.” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep, and he noticed the way a shiver ran down your spine. He chuckled at the thought of just his voice sending shivers through your body.

“Morning, Simon.” you chirped back, your soft smile melting his heart. You turned your head, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, and Simon savoured the moment, sighing softly.

“I love you, y’know tha’, righ’?” he spoke against your lips before you pulled back, his eyes still heavy with sleep. You snickered softly at his words.

“Yeah, I know. And I love you too, Si.” you replied, pulling out of his arms. “Could you do me a favour and watch the food? I don’t want it burning.” you said, going over to the cupboard to pull out a mug.

Simon watched you with a hint of confusion, but he brushed it off, shrugging slightly. He made sure to keep an eye on the food, but his focus was mainly on you.

He watched as you moved about the kitchen, starting to make him a tea. He chuckled softly when he realized what you were doing. “Luv, I can make my own tea, yeah?” he said, but you shot him a glare. He instantly backed off, putting his hands up in mock defeat. “Righ’, okay. I’ll letcha make my tea f’me.” he said, still chuckling.

It only took a minute or two, not even until you came back over, handing him his tea. “I didn’t put too much sugar in it. I hope it’s good.” you said, remembering the other day when you tried making him a tea and accidentally put too much sugar.

Simon just laughed it off, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “It’ll be perfect, honey. Don’ worry abou’ it.” he murmured, taking a sip of his tea. It was better, but still just a bit too much sugar for his liking, but he didn’t complain. He loved it when you made him things (he still wears the bracelet you made him when you first met ~7 years ago).

Just before you both could get too comfy, your attention was snapped back to the stove when you saw the food was on fire. You gasped, while Simon stood and tried not to laugh as you flocked about the kitchen, trying to put it out. He set down his cup and pulled you aside.

He turned off the stove, grabbing the pan and putting it in the sink, the now-on-fire bacon still inside. He turned on the sink, letting the water set out the fire, turning around to look at you. “All be’ter?” he snickered, watching the relief flood your face with amusement.

“Sorry, I wanted to make us breakfast!” you exclaimed, and it only spiked Simon’s amusement.

“Calm down, luvie. It’s al’ight.” he cooed, sitting down on the chair in the kitchen and pulled you onto his lap, tucking his face in the crook of your neck.

In his mind, this was better than anything. Being here with you, safe from the worries of the world in the cozy farmhouse he bought when he retired from the military almost a year and a half ago. This is how he wanted it to be.

Just as long as he was with you, he knew he was fine.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

do you have any particular rap recommendations? i'm open to the genre but i haven't really vibed musically with any of the more popular rap artists. i'd really like to listen to more of it but i just don't know where to really start looking

god do I ever. I have no idea who you haven't previously vibed with so if I say someone you don't like then cope, I'm telling you about my personal favorites.

first and foremost remember that love of my life Janelle Monáe raps like hell

Little Simz is simply electric and her album Sometimes I Might Be Introvert is one of the most breathtaking audio experiences I've ever had

Dua Saleh makes me insaaaaane xyr music is so good and also frequently NASTY gay shit (as linked)

I looove Doechii she hits you going like 4000 miles per hour brain go BRRRRRRRR

I just got into Flyana Boss when they opened up for Janelle on tour last year, they're so cute and funny and their energy is incredible

Tierra Whack does a lot of kooky silly shit I adore her

I never really got into BROCKHAMPTON but Kevin Abstract is my #1 sad gay man, this whole album is everything to me

I don't know, like, anything about Aminé outside of his music but that's fine because his music fucks like hell

and I'd be remiss if I didn't include Megan Thee Stallion and a song that reduces me to emotional shambles

[honeytonedhottie]

CONFIDENCE⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🛍️

i've reached a point where my confidence genuinely cannot be shaken by anything, like all the shadow work and everything is rly paying off and having confidence makes everything in life so much better so i wanna talk about it 🍭

GAINING CONFIDENCE = GAINING SELF LOVE ;

to begin with, confidence is not gained over night and its something thats built and honed with time. so be patient with yourself! confidence always stems from self love.

self love is the most important thing ever. no matter what u have to know that ur gonna love yourself thru THICK and THIN. ur the only one with u 24/7.

make ur mind a palace, treat ur body like a temple, give urself the tender love and care that u DESERVE 🧁💕

GET COMFY IN UR OWN SKIN ; 

i feel like the most confident people are dancers. i feel this way cuz of the way my own confidence SKYROCKETED after i started dancing. i feel like dancing gives u a sense of control over ur own body and its just amazing.

whenever i feel like i need a little boost of confidence or i wanna feel sexy and good in my own skin i DANCE. and i promise that it helps so so much. i dance around in my room all the time and it’s like therapy. 

embarrassment does NOT exist, stop making urself feel awkward or embarrassed for making mistakes sometimes, learn to laugh and not take everything so seriously.

MENTAL DIET ; 

honestly in my experience, manifesting has played a huge role in my self confidence and my self concept. honestly, self concept work goes hand in hand with self confidence work.

keeping a strict mental diet has made my self concept untouchable so definitely get into that. so SAY UR AFFIRMATIONS, dont EVER bully yourself etc.

SAY NO ; 

something about a confident person, they can ADVOCATE for themselves and they know how to say no/im not comfortable with _. practice saying no more and being in control of ur time.

some words that u can add to ur vocabulary to be more confident and advocate for urself properly is "absolutely not" or simply NO. theres so much power in the word NO so make sure to use it more.

THE MUSIC ; 

the music that u listen to on a regular day to day basis rly have an impact on ur mind for either better or for worse depending on what ur listening to. 

steer clear of music that talks about things like self loathing or self hate and instead go for songs that uplift you. a lot of the time when ppl bring up the relationship between the songs u listen to and ur mindset a misconception that ppl have is that like, u can’t listen to emotional or sad songs and that’s NOT TRUE. u can listen to sad songs and still be a confident, bad bitch.

HONEYS HOT TIPS ;

probably TMI but something that rly helps confidence is when u match ur bras to ur panties (IDEK WHAT IT IS) like the confidence boost is insane. when u look good -> you feel good.

again, embarrassment does NOT exist

no one is above you and no one is beneath you

surround urself with other confident individuals so that they can uplift u and u all can LEARN from each other, cuz the people u surround urself with matters.

[moris-auri]

Heaven is not fit (to house a love like you and I)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Baela Targaryen

Summary: The war, bloody and devastating, is over. Having bested his uncle over the God's Eye, Aemond returns to King’s Landing and to his elder brother.

But his victory is short-lived when Aegon dies in 131 A.C. without an heir. After more than a half year of peace, the realm is thrown into chaos once again. Made to choose a bride after having the ruby studded crown of Aegon I placed on his head and made King, Aemond chooses his cousin, Baela Targaryen.

And Baela Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, grows more than fond of saying "Fuck the realm."

WC: 8k

Beta'd by @vampire-exgirlfriend ILYSM Alex ❤️❤️

Warnings: NSFW 18+, spoilers for Fire and Blood (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The title sits like ash in her mouth, lingering on her tongue like sour, spoiled wine. It had ever since her arrival nearly three days prior; carried from the ship that had brought her from Driftmark to the Red Keep, she has done little else but think about it, over and over and over again.

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Her conviction only grows stronger each time the thought comes, her conviction that becoming his wife and Queen is the very last thing she wants. That Aemond is quite possibly the one person in all the realm she despises. She has still not forgotten the things he'd said and done in the past, the half-sullen, half-angry boy he'd been in their youth. She has not forgotten the words he had spat so cruelly in the tunnel the night he claimed Vhagar just after her mother's funeral, the same night Luke cut out his eye. Has not forgotten his toast to Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey the night her father took Vaemond Velaryon's head, nor has she forgotten the manner of Luke and Arrax's deaths over Shipbreaker Bay.

She's had dreams sometimes of what it would have been like to be Jacaerys' queen, late at night when she could not find sleep and spent half the night tossing and turning in her bed. Dreams that were hauntingly vivid, things of what could have been if he had survived the Gullet. Glimpses of what it might have been like if war had not broken out, damaging the realm so much it was near irreparable in some places.

But he had not.

None of them had, save for herself, Aemond, Rhaena and little Aegon. If only her uncle were here to see the utter ruin of their House, what their family had become.

The Crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided.

Divided indeed.

It's almost laughable, she cannot help but think, letting out a faint, mirthless huff of laughter, how the might and entirety of House Targaryen- a line going back to the Dragonlords of Old Valyria, was now all but wiped out in less than five years. And over a chair no less.

"I've been looking for you, girl."

The sound of her grandfather's voice from behind her drew her back to the present, his tone sounding sterner than she can ever remember it being.

"You've found me, grandfather," she said testily, resisting the desire to roll her eyes as she stood, still facing the windows of her chamber that overlooked the city, arms crossed over her chest, fighting the urge to shout her fury.

His voice came again, but she didn't catch whatever he said. Except for one word.

Husband.

"I won't do it," she says as she shakes her head. She crossed her arms over her chest, not caring in the slightest if he thinks she seems petulant as she squashes the desire to toss her head back and laugh, instead savoring the bite of pain that ricochets up her arms when she presses her nails into the skin of her palms. "Let Rhaena wed him."

Silence.

She immediately regrets it, feeling the guilt rise inside her, chasing the anger away like a tide. She knows as well as he does that the pit of snakes and rats that the royal court is would eat her twin alive and spit out her bones. "He's a kinslayer," she says instead, a not so small trace of bitterness lingering in her voice, "Or have you forgotten how he murdered Luke?"

"I have not. But he is king now." her grandsire reminds sharply, disapproval rolling off him in waves. "This realm has seen enough war and bloodshed, child."

Baela feels her cheeks heat at the chastisement, clenching her hands into fists at her sides again. "I won't do it," she repeats, but she can feel how futile her protests are even as she says it. She doesn't want this fate; the fate of so many women before her. She feels her eyes begin to sting then, the unwanted thought of what a Queen's duty was bouncing around inside her head, bile rising to the back of her throat. Would her fate be the same as her mother's? As Queen Aemma's?

Corlys sighs, the sound almost as heavy as the hand he places on her shoulder. "You'll be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, girl. Be grateful."

"Be grateful?" she says incredulously as she whirls around to glare at him, her anger returning stronger than it had before. "Be grateful? For being bartered off like a chest of riches?"

His face tightens, his hand falling back to his side. "Be grateful," he adds gruffly. "That the king has chosen you."

She snorted derisively. "As if you gave him any other option. I know he only chose me because you dangled me before him like bait." She hisses the words at him spitefully, eyes narrowed. "I wish Father had killed him," she added vindictively as an afterthought.

"Enough of this," he grounds out, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "You will. For the good of the realm."

"Fuck the realm." She says again. A final, futile effort to stop this.

"Baela!" His voice grows in volume, in frustration, all but bordering on a bellow. She doesn't so much as flinch, bold and willful thing that she is. Her mouth twists, blood roaring in her veins. She opens her mouth, but closes it just as fast when he sends her a warning glance.

You will marry him.

"Now," Corlys cleared his throat. "He requests your presence in the Small Council chamber."

"Now? But I'm-" she glanced down at herself, a thread of panic entering her voice.

"You look fine," Corlys said, as if he could sense her panic. The reassurance in his voice does little to calm her, though, made clear in the look etched on her face. "Now come," he said, steering her forward with a hand against her back.

**

She's barely been in the room for a minute before she feels the weight of Aemond's gaze land on her, the burning intensity of it making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She swallowed then, tucking away the unsure part of herself, pushing back the sliver of self preservation that reared its head in recognition that she was no longer the only dragon in the room, the sliver that felt like she could potentially even be prey when in his presence. The eyes she fixed him with then were hard, the weakness she resented shoved down deep within her, eagerly ignored.

She cannot help but admit how much he looks like a king in that moment, with his spine as stiff as a board and his hands clasped together before him in an almost penitent manner that was at odds with the unreadable expression on his face. The blank, carefully crafted expression on his face that made her feel disconcerted, wary and ill at ease at not being able to tell what he was thinking or what he was feeling. Did he hate this farce as much as she did? This plan to mend the shattered, broken shards their family had become? Or did he want it more than he let on?

And if he did, why?

"Cousin," her soon to be husband says from where he sits at the head of the long table, his hands clasped together in front of him. "Sit," he murmurs, the command clear when he gestures towards the vacant chair to his right. She does so without a word, but not before glancing at her grandfather, who only nodded at her with a look of pride on his face.

"Cousin," she returns once she's situated, her tone bordering on saccharine and falsely sweet as she forces herself to remain at ease, to remain calm and not spit a slew of curses at him when the rage in her eyes did not affect him in the slightest.

She ripped her gaze away from his face, sliding upwards before stopping, her lips parting as her gaze landed on the crown situated atop his head, the crown that had once sat on his brother's head. The sole ruby in the center winks in the light, the valyrian steel surrounding it looking almost black despite the sun shining into the room.

"What are your plans for the ceremony, Your Grace?" her grandfather interrupts after a long moment, elbows resting on the edge of the table as he leans forward.

Her gaze drops back to Aemond's face at the sound of the low hum he lets out in response to the question, watching as he presses his steepled fingers against his mouth, as if in thought. "In the Old Valyrian way, of course," he responds, casting a fleeting look her way, his gaze searching, before averting his eye almost nervously.

‘Let him be nervous,’ she thinks almost vindictively, feeling her mouth twitch in response. He says something else that she doesn't catch entirely, listening with one ear as they speak of other things pertaining to the realm that she knows she should care about but cannot bring herself to truly care about.

Not yet at least.

Her mind drifts to thoughts of her father as she tunes the sound of their voices out, knowing without a doubt how he'd make no attempt to show or let his obvious disapproval at this be known if he were here. Pain lanced through her at the thought of him, chased by the knowledge that he would never speak again. That she would never see his face or hear his voice again - not in this life, at least. Not when he was nothing more than a decaying corpse at the bottom of the God's Eye now.

"What say you, cousin?" Aemond asks as he leans closer to her, the sound of his voice dragging her back to the present. "The way of our House? Or the way of the Seven?"

"Excuse me?"

"For the ceremony," he repeated steadily as he met her gaze. His expression had gone unreadable again, save for the slight tightening around his mouth, the sound of his fingers drumming against the table drifting towards her.

Baela felt her cheeks go hot as her eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by the question. She swallowed her sudden apprehension as she opened her mouth to respond, a memory of the day her father had married Rhaenyra in the traditional Valyrian way resurfacing.

He was asking her what she wanted.

She hesitated a moment before biting her lip, her heart pounding behind her ribs. She stiffened her shoulders as she looked up at him from under her lashes, her mind made up. If she was to do this, she'd do it in a way she knew would've made the Rogue Prince proud.

"The Valyrian way."

**

The day of her marriage comes a week after her arrival and she wants nothing more than to scream. The bedchamber that is hers now has been a hive of activity for the last several hours, the space full of chatter from a handful of different voices, namely those of the seamstresses and the Dowager Queen.

She has seen neither hide nor hair of Alicent Hightower since she stepped foot into the Keep over a week ago, though she had heard far and few in between whispers from the servants. Spun tales of a bereaved, grief stricken Dowager Queen who had retreated to her bedchamber after losing almost everything but the son that now sat the Iron Throne.

She had not put much stock in them before, but the sight of her soon to be good-mother is more than enough to make her believe them. She remembered the woman who had sat at her Uncle's left, glowing and resplendent in rich green and gold, hair laying across her shoulders in a sheet of burnished auburn waves.

There is hardly a trace of that woman now.

Now Alicent Hightower is pale, drawn and almost ghostly. Her hair is done plainly, an unadorned braid wrapped around her head, her dress a shade of black that seemed to swallow her whole, making her look slight and diminutive. That had been another thing she had heard, her complete disavowal of wearing anything made in the colors of her House, and as much as she does not want to pity her soon to be goodmother, she cannot help it.

Drawn from her reverie, Baela turns her head at the sound of the head seamstress clearing her throat, her gaze falling to the final part of the ornate robes the woman held in her hands. Resisting the desire to roll her eyes, Baela made a motion with one hand, beckoning the woman forward without a word.

Rhaena only had to take one look at her face as soon as the final clasp on the bodice was closed, no doubt catching the steadily heightening agitation brewing like a storm cloud in her eyes, a wordless communication passing between them. "Leave us," she says sharply as she stands from the chair she had been sitting in since early this morning, the hem of her dress soundless on the flagstones as she neared.

If there was one good thing to this, it was that she still had her sister at her side as a pillar of support. Everytime she had thought about it, about being alone in this cesspool with only the distant attention of her grandfather, she felt dread churn low in her stomach. And so it had been the one thing she'd refused to budge on. 'If I must do this,' she had said to their grandfather the second night, the look in her eyes daring him to argue with her, 'I will have her with me.'

Baela shot a fierce, withering glare at the servant who wavered by the door, the order to get out burning in her gaze. "By the gods-" she mutters the instant the chamber is fully empty, her chamber now, she thought belatedly as she rolled her shoulders in an effort to lessen the tension. She could already feel the weight of the robes she wore bearing her down like an anchor, stifling and heavy; as did the ornate headpiece, brought from Dragonstone on such short notice. She reached up to tug on it, only to let out a startled yelp when Rhaena smacked her hands away with a glare. You'll mess it up, her sister's eyes seemed to say.

Baela scowled at her as she rubbed at the now stinging skin, but let them fall to her side nonetheless, her head twisting to the side a minute later at the sound of knocking, followed by a voice partially muffled by the thick wood of the door. "Are you ready, Your Grace?"

She let out a breath as she dropped her hands to her sides. She was not ready, and she doubted she ever would be but she raised her voice nonetheless, just loud enough to let her reply carry the distance to where the servant could hear her clearly. She glanced down one final time, inhaling a breath as she steeled herself silently, the thump of her heart as loud as a drum in her ears.

"You look beautiful, sister," Rhaena murmured, as if she sensed the conflict raging beneath her skin.

"As do you," Baela said as she shot her a grateful smile, squeezing her fingers gently. She let go of Rhaena's fingers a minute or two later as she pulled away, smoothing her palms over the stiff cloth, exchanging one last glance with her before stepping past her and out into the corridor.

**

The ride to the Dragonpit was torturous, and she hated it.

Her previously half pleasant mood was gone, having vanished like smoke what felt like ages ago, replaced with irritation and the steadily growing urge to snap at someone, despite the fact that it was only herself and Rhaena in the wheelhouse, a fact she cannot help but be grateful for.

"If I must suffer one more-" she all but snarled as she grit her teeth each time the wheels of the wheelhouse jostled over the uneven streets the closer and closer they got to the Dragonpit. Or what was left of it, half demolished as it was now.

Her hands dropped to her lap, resting one over the other as she began twisting the gold ring around the fourth finger of her left hand in a nervous tic.

"At least we're almost there," Rhaena murmured half under her breath from the seat across from her, an attempt at placating her, leaning forward to rest a hand on her arm. Baela made a wordless sound of agreement in her throat as she turned her head to the side, blinking every time sunlight filtered in through the star-shaped holes. Rhaena opened her mouth to say something else, but Baela had turned away, in no mood to hear another word.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, save for the jubilant sounds of shouting from the people lining the streets on either side of the carriage. "Gods above-," she grumbled out in relief when she felt the wheelhouse rock to a stop, seeing stars as she raised her hand to her eyes to block out the glare of the sun, the sight of their grandsire standing hardly more than a foot away, the Velaryon seahorse stitched out in silver thread, bright against the dark hue of his tunic.

"Grandfather," she greeted shortly as she stepped down, ignoring the hand he had extended towards her, exhaling when both her feet were flat on the ground.

"Granddaughter," he said gruffly in response as he set his hands on her shoulders, tilting his head to look her in the eye. She squinted against the sun as she tipped her head back to look up at him, caught off guard by the odd look in his eyes, one that she did not know what to think of.

"If only Rhaenys and Laena could see you now," he murmured, his words doing little except to startle her further, "They'd be so very proud of you. I know it."

Blinking in surprise at the mention of her mother and grandmother, Baela felt the pricking, tell-tale sting of tears in the corners of her eyes as his words sunk in. She opened her mouth as if to speak, a question on the tip of her tongue, but he turned away before she could.

She knew he grieved for his wife as she and Rhaena did, mourning her in his own way. He fell silent again, the look in his eyes turning into something more scrutinizing, as if he was studying her. "His Grace is waiting," was all he said, his voice turning brusque once more, brooking no room for an argument. Baela watched him go silently, the broad width of his back filling her vision as he ascended the steps of the Dragonpit before disappearing inside.

**

"Ābrazȳrys." Her husband's tone is cold and flat, carrying nary a trace of affection- not that she expects him to have any.

Husband.

It still felt more than strange to call him that, the sole word as foreign to her as anything, even though it's been a month since their marriage. No matter how fervently she wishes to forget, she can still remember some parts of the ceremony as clear as day. She doubted she ever would now, not with the way they all but clung to her like shadows in the back of her mind.

The feeling of the dragonglass Aemond had pressed to her lip and to the skin of her palm. The sharp pain that had followed it and the iron smell of the blood that welled in its wake. The look in his eye when he had drawn the Valyrian glyph for fire on her forehead. The look on his face when she had done the same to him, the glyph for blood standing out as red as garnets against his skin.

"What do you want?" she demands of him, knowing what he'll say anyway. She braces her weight on her elbows as she looks towards where he stands in the doorway, not missing the way he's still wearing the same tunic he had been earlier.

Aemond frowned at her words, a crease forming between his brows. "We must do this for the realm-" he starts to say, his voice now carrying a steely edge. "Our duty-"

He was standing close enough for her ears to pick up the breath he let out, the sound long and slow- a sign of his growing agitation. Baela fought the urge to smile as she half turned on her side to face him, her shift slipping down her shoulder. "Damn the realm," she said viciously as she all but bared her teeth at him like some wild beast.

Even with the urgings of the Small Council, as well as those of her grandfather and his mother, she had hardly, if any desire to know him. "I do not want you here. So go away," she repeated, her voice little more than a snap now, doing her hardest to ignore the heat crawling up her spine, more than acutely aware of his stare, feeling the heavy weight of his gaze burning into her skin. "You're more than welcome to go slake your lust elsewhere, husband."

He retreated a step or two at her words, a wounded look darting across his face.

"Another day," he said finally, when she didn't relent, making his way towards the door.

She ignores him anyway.

**

"Cousin."

Rhaena's head lifted at the sound of Aemond’s voice, eyes trailing to fall on his expression.

Even from this far, she could taste the tension all but oozing from him like wine overflowing from a cask, his brow furrowed, his mouth turned down in a frown, as if something was troubling him. He looked half out of place in her chamber, looking rather like an inkblot, the dark of his tunic and his breeches standing out against the lighter, paler colors.

"Ae-"

No, she could not call him Aemond- not anymore at least. He was the King now, and her sister's husband to boot. "Your Grace," she says cautiously, setting aside her book as she rises to her feet. "Is there something I might-"

He cuts her off before she can finish speaking, his eyes darting around her chambers before settling on her face. "Your sister," he all but blurts out, before clearing his throat, spots of color infusing along his cheekbones. "Baela," he amends as he twists his arms behind his back. "I…I do not know what to do. She-"

Rhaena tilted her head as she studied him, her gaze as sharp as a knife's edge, more than aware of how he seemed almost nervous, her good-brother, flustered in a way she cannot remember ever seeing from him- not even when they'd been children.

"What have you tried, Your Grace?"

"I-" he seemed to stumble over the word, glancing up at her before dropping his gaze downward to his feet. Rhaena watched as he removed his crown, holding it with one hand as he ran the other over his hair, sending the pale silver-gold strands further into a state of dishevelment.

"My sister is being unfair," she admitted, feeling a faint pity for him. "But she is headstrong, willful and proud. She always has been."

"You do know her best," he murmured quietly as he met her stare, a sliver of light skirting over his face in a way that illuminated the smudged, half-moon shadow under his eye. Her pity for him grew, though she kept it to herself as she nodded wordlessly, gaze dropping down to his boots, a slew of thoughts churning in her skull.

"If I might speak freely, Your Grace?"

He nodded, the bobbing of his almost eager in a way. "Please."

Rhaena hesitated. "She likes hawking," she said finally as she bit her lip in thought, "And riding. We used to do it on Dragonstone when the weather was favorable."

He nodded again, humming as he listened to her, a resolve growing in his eye.

His eye met hers then, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Baela would no doubt be angered by this, but her anger would fade, it had to- for the good of the realm. Rhaena let a half rueful grin form on her lips, practically able to hear the sound of her sister's voice in her mind, seething and laden with fury, as well as the saying she had taken to like a fish to water. Fuck the realm.

"Thank you, goodsister," he said lastly, half turned towards the door. Rhaena dipped her head, the sound of her braids sliding over her shoulders filling her ears.

She could only hope that it would work.

**

And it does.

As one turn of the moon becomes two, then three, the change within the Keep grows more than noticeable with each day that passes, much to the relief of them all.

**

They have been married for four moons when Baela enters his chambers, crossing the room in several short strides to stand before him, arms folded behind her back, tapping the heel of her riding boots on the flagstones, her stare lingering on the sight of his bowed head, unused to the sight of him without the crown, his hair falling loose and unbound over his shoulders. She does not blame him though, not really, not when she knows the weight of it.

"Will you take me flying? On Vhagar?"

Aemond's head lifted at the sound of her voice, grinning softly at the sight of her before him. "Hello to you too," he murmured as a greeting.

"Well?" she asked again, more than a little impatient now, rocking forward then backward on the balls of her feet. She could not help but think of her own dragon then, pretty Moondancer, who had perished during the fall of Dragonstone, and even thinking about her now felt like a shard of glass embedded in her chest, like a phantom limb, the pain of which would never truly go away.

Aemond's stare only seemed to grow sharper the longer he held her gaze, searching and almost intrusive in a way, as if he meant to cut her open from the base of her throat to navel, and Baela cannot help but shiver faintly at the thought of it. “Why do you want to go so badly?” he countered, voice laden with suspicion as he stands, unfolding himself from the chair behind the desk with a languid, effortless grace.

“Can I not wish to spend the day with you?” She grins, her tone taking on a teasing edge as she stared down the bridge of her nose at him. Or tried to at least, the action made all the harder by the inches he had over her. He only hums as he raises an eyebrow, standing near enough to where the ends of his boots touch her own.

She can practically feel the heat bleeding through his clothes, the blood of the dragon running hot indeed, she muses. His breath fans across her face softly, still smelling of the baked apples soaked in honey they'd broken their fast on hours before.

"I cannot simply abandon my duties to go flying. The realm-"

She huffs a laugh, raking one hand through the braid Rhaena had been successful in wrangling her curls into. "Fuck the realm. It can spare you for half a day. I am your wife and I wish to go flying with you." She says as she stares at him, daring him to protest more.

"Very well," he relented with a sigh, turning his head to the side to glance back to the stacked parchment on his desk.

She fought the desire to grin victoriously.

**

Her lips parted slightly at the sight of Vhagar before her, little opaque wisps of smoke coming from her nostrils as she slumbered.

Since the war had ended, she'd taken to sleeping more and more, her chosen resting spot the patches of now flattened grass just beyond the city gates. One of her eyes opened as they neared, the great orange pupil surveying them.

Aemond's shoulder brushed against her own as he moved forward, "Lykiri, Vhagar," he murmured as he laid his hand flat on her snout, the sight making the sliver of affection that had lodged in her chest grow, warmth pooling low in her stomach.

Aemond stretched out his other hand to her, the look in his eye almost gentle. "Come."

Baela stared up at him, hesitating for a moment, before she edged forward, keeping one eye trained on Vhagar as she slid her hand in his, letting him pull her up. She let out a sound, one as close to unbridled delight as Vhagar began to lumber forwards, each flap of her wings sending them higher and higher into the sky. She let her eyes fall shut at the feel of the wind whipping through her silver curls, lashing like shards of ice against her cheeks, the space all around them empty save for clouds and the blue of the open sky stretching as far as she could see.

It was peaceful, flying on dragonback this high up, so much so where she could almost forget anything and everything that was happening miles below her. Her breath hitched in her chest at the feel of Aemond tightening his hold on her, the arm he'd wound around her waist before they'd left the ground growing almost impossibly tighter, constricting like a serpent.

The aquiline slope of his nose nudged against her cheek as she half turned her head to the side, the sound of him muttering something against her skin drowned out by the shrill whistle of the wind, his words faint enough for her to miss, too distracted as she was by the sound of his breath against the shell of her ear. By the steady rise and fall of his chest behind her and the feel of his lean frame, a hard line at her back.

"Look," he rasped, his voice coming louder this time as he raised a hand from the ropes, applying the faintest bit of pressure on her face to turn her head forward again. They were still flying, but it wasn't the city under them anymore. Instead it was the coastline and the familiar waters of Blackwater Bay, the almost dirty gray hue of the water lit gold by the sun, and her eyes widened at the sight before her.

It was beautiful.

Startled, Baela shrieked when Aemond's hand tightened on the reins, angling them downward into a nosedive. She let out a sharper sound when Vhagar leveled, angling to the right, one wing brushing the water's surface and sending a spray of water into the air.

Full of exhilaration, she felt a laugh bubble up in her chest, blood roaring in her ears.

Oh, how she had missed this.

**

They had returned to the Keep just after the sun had set, the almost rose hue that had made the houses and buildings of the city all but glow fading as the sky darkened to the familiar indigo of the approaching twilight, the two of them windblown and stinking of dragon.

The servants had needed no further warning before a line of them entered one after the other, bringing in bucketfuls of steaming water. Baela had watched them fill the gleaming copper tub almost impassively, arms folded across her chest as she had waited until the last one had left before turning her focus back to where Aemond had sat in one of the chairs situated around the hearth.

His hair gleamed, shadows from the flames highlighting the angles and lines of his cheekbones, dancing across his face. She drew herself up tall, spine going taut like a drawn bowstring as she stared at him, desire pooling low in her belly.

"Aemond…" she crooned from where she stood, still wearing the black dragon riding robes she had earlier, her desire clear. "Are you going to fuck me now, husband?"

His head snapped towards her, half startled. His eye narrowed, lust warring with suspicion on his face, his fingers flexing against the arms of the chair. "You-"

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?" She cannot help but say snidely, watching his pupils dilate as she loosened the lacing on the front. "You're too far away." Come closer, she does not say.

He shot to his feet, not needing another word of encouragement. Baela shivered as he stalked towards her, the almost predatory hunger burning in his eye. He had the singular ability to make her feel exposed now, cut open and laid bare before him.

Weak.

Soft.

A mockery of everything she was. Everything she wasn’t.

His jaw clenched each time she took a step backwards, the predatory look in his eye morphing into something more dangerous, a wicked smirk cutting across his mouth as he followed her, stopping when the backs of her legs hit the bed.

His hands fell to rest on the curve of her waist, standing out stark and pale against the night-dark fabric of her riding tunic. Baela pushed at his chest slightly, scarcely daring to breathe as he drew even closer, resting one hand on her neck. Her fingers closed around his wrist loosely, every brush of his thumb over her skin making her breath catch in her throat.

She felt warmth heat her cheeks, taking the opportunity to look up at him from under her lashes, wondering if he could feel her pulse thrumming under her flesh. She watched him as he took a half step closer, his eye darting from her eyes to her mouth and back again. It almost seemed like he was just as nervous as she was, but she did not put much stock into it.

She trembled, half out of fear or something else she could not name, tentatively flattening her hands to his chest, feeling the muscle lurking beneath the surface shift under her palms as she stilled, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

He pushed at her riding clothes roughly, sliding the fabric down her arms before tossing the garment away blindly, his breathing seeming to grow shallower as his face lowered to loom mere inches from her own, his fingers disappearing into the curtain of her curls before kissing her again. Baela moaned against his mouth, her fingernails leaving half moons in the leather of his tunic.

He let out a low noise as her legs lifted then, wrapping around the narrow line of his waist, the sound hovering halfway between a snarl and a groan that had the coil at the base of her spine tightening. "You are a wicked temptress," he groaned again, eye closing at the feel of her pressing kisses to the side of his neck.

She reached for his eyepatch then, fingers stilling mere inches from it, an unspoken question in her eyes.

Aemond nodded, wordlessly bobbing his head, his hand splayed flat against her back.

Her fingers brushed over the raised skin of his scar, skirting upwards to slip beneath the square of leather before gently tugging it from his head. The sapphire in his eye socket was more lovely than she wanted to admit, glittering at her as it did now in the low light.

She traced the planes of his face, her touch gentle and as soft as a feather. Was he surprised by it? Surprised that she could be gentle with him? That she wanted to be? Her eyes slide over him, all but devouring the way he is almost beautiful. She kissed him again, her lips brushing across his own.

Aemond hisses quietly, a breath rattling from between his clenched teeth as she does. The sound is as loud as a dragon's roar in her ear, and were it not for the near-nonexistent distance between them, she's more than certain she would not have heard it.

His eye followed the path of her fingers, watching as they dropped lower and lower before coming to rest at the laces of his breeches, nostrils flaring with each breath, the sensation of her fingers brushing feather-light across his stomach almost too much to bear.

She glanced up at him from under her lashes, a half coy smirk lifting one side of her mouth up.

Tormenting him. Taunting him.

His eye trailed up again, the sight that greeted him made his cock ache all the more. He pressed closer, his lips dragging down the line of her throat, vaguely aware of her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders, the distraction of her kiss overpowering any rational thought he might have previously had.

"Only a dragon can love a dragon, Aemond. And you are mine."

Aemond moans in her ear at that, his fingers tightening on her hips, bruising almost. He could barely breathe, dizzy and almost breathless as the potent, rich smell of her all but ingrained itself into his senses so very thoroughly, like an insect burrowing into the ground. “If you want me to stop,” he rasped, feeling his heart slamming against his ribcage, “Tell me.” His voice was a low murmur in her ear, his breath fanning hot by her ear as he trailed his hands down her sides.

“No,” she breathed, trying to press closer to him, feeling his cock hard against her belly. “Please, Aemond-” She nipped at his skin, a barely noticeable scrape of her teeth against his pulse point, grinning as she felt it jump beneath her lips. She kissed him again, and again, feeling her pulse fluttering under the thin as parchment skin of her wrists and her throat.

Aemond only chuckled, the vibration from it rolling through her, only to choke out a moan a second later, the noise weaving and twisting with hers.

**

They are married five moons when she blocks his exit from the council room with a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump, thump, thump of it beneath her fingers.

She bit her lip as she held her breath, keeping her eyes trained on his face. "I'm with child."

His eye goes wide at her words, wider than she's ever seen it. She shifted on her feet, feeling the half elated sensation in her chest fading the longer he didn't speak.

"Truly?"

"Yes," Baela nodded, feeling the giddiness grow stronger, unfurling low in her belly like a ship's sail. "The maester confirmed it this morning."

A buoyant smile splits his face cheek to cheek. It was not the smirk she had all but grown used to seeing, a genuine one that stretched his lips, making his eye crease.

"Baela."

She stilled, the thought that this was the first time he's called her by her name echoing in her head as she turned to face him. "Say it again," she demanded.

"Baela," he repeated, drawing the word out slowly.

Between one blink and the next, she all but launched herself at him, twisting and coiling around him like a serpent around its prey. She thinks later that it was in that moment she could almost love him.

The news does not stay between them for long, and soon enough a feast is hastily prepared in celebration.

**

Glancing at Aemond from the corner of her eye, Baela could feel the tension thrumming under his skin, all but radiating from him in waves where he sat beside her, one hand curled loosely around his cup, his other tapping an almost agitated rhythm against the cloth covered table, the line of his shoulders stiff and his posture unrelenting.

She leaned closer, her hand grasping his arm as she arched upwards, ghosting her lips over his ear. "Dance with me," she murmured boldly, delighting internally when he stiffened at the contact.

"You know I abhor dancing, ñuha jorrāelagon."

Aemond’s voice is barely more than a whisper, low and hushed, in that manner that is entirely his own. It is a trait of his that she has grown rather fond of, his ability to not be one to speak when he did not need to, choosing instead to stay silent and observe those around him like a bird of prey.

"And you are-"

Her gaze sharpened, daring him to say it.

"Forgive me."

He must have sensed her irritation as not even a minute later she felt his hand settle on her thigh, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the fabric of her dress. She huffed under her breath, lips pressed together tightly. "I might," she says nonetheless, knowing full well the effect her words would have on him.

Sure enough, his hand tightens on her thigh, his touch turning slightly painful. She can feel the weight of his attention on the side of her face, not having to even turn her head to be able to tell his eye is heavy-lidded, his pupil no doubt swallowed and dark now.

"Do you think they'd notice? If we were to depart," she murmurs innocently, offhandedly, keeping her gaze straight ahead, pressing her lips together to repress a smile when the sound of his breathing changes, growing ragged and hoarse with each second.

**

They have been married for six moons now, and it is the first time she does not wake up alone.

"Good morning," she breathed quietly, watching as Aemond cracked an eye open, his breath little more than soft huffs of air against her face.

"You're watching me," he noted, his voice low and rasping, still carrying miniscule traces of sleep.

"Perhaps I like watching you, husband," she said in return, brushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear, letting the earthen smell of him envelop her then, the heat he radiated making their bed almost stiflingly hot.

His mouth twitched at her words, faint and almost hardly noticeable. There was a softness in his eye as he looked down at her, thumb swiping as light as a feather across her lower lip. “Gevie,” he murmured as he cradled her face between his palms,, the golden glow behind him caught in his hair, setting the pale strands alight.

"I love you," She breathed as she tugged his hand away from her face. She twined her fingers with his, turning his hand over to trail a nail over the lines in the center of his palm, lifting it to her lips, watching his expression as she did, knowing deep down that there was no going back.

Not now. Not ever.

**

More time passes, the months going by one after the other, her belly swelling until she cannot see her own feet. She has few visitors, not that she minds, having her twin and Aemond beside her more than enough. Though there had been times she'd been seconds away from snapping at him out of ire.

He is locked within the council chambers- has been since that morning, a fact that she is more than grateful for, to be honest. It is only Rhaena and one of her handmaidens now, both of them hardly breathing a word.

"Rhaena," she forces out, fighting to keep her face blank at the sharp bite of pain in her belly. "I think-" she does not have to say another word, watching with wide eyes as her sister scrambles to her feet.

"Should I-"

Baela nods, a single, sharp dip of her head.

**

She squeezes her eyes shut as she lets out a guttural breath from between clenched teeth and wishes the pain would stop.

"Push, Your Grace," the midwife ordered, not unkindly. Baela only glowered at her as she gritted her teeth, nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale she took.

"Where is he?"

"He's outside, sister," Rhaena soothed, squeezing her fingers lightly. "Waiting."

"Bring him here," she growled, uncaring of the way the midwives exchanged slightly uneasy looks with each other. "Do it!" she all but snarled at them. They did, scattering like a flock of birds, one of them moving brusquely towards the doors.

"Aemond."

He moved towards her quickly, half settling beside her. "Ñuha jorrāelagon," he murmured as he clasped her hand in his, pressing his lips to her brow.

The midwife comes forward again, mouth opening to speak, though Baela hardly hears a word as she closed her eyes, hearing Aemond's sharp inhale of breath as she squeezed his hand, her nails leaving reddened marks in the shape of half moons in his skin. Time seemed to tick by as slow as a snail's pace before she let out another breath, her chest rising and falling quickly as she half slumped against his chest, tendrils of her sweat soaked silver hair clinging to the skin of her neck, hearing the wailing of not one babe two split the quiet like a crack of thunder.

"Twins, Your Grace."

"Let me see them," she said as she held her arms out.

**

"She looks like your mother," her grandfather says later, the tip of his finger tracing over her daughter's face from where he stood beside Rhaena. "Does she have a name yet?"

"Laena," she says softly, "Her name shall be Laena. For my mother." She half turned towards Aemond, a question lingering in the depths, "And Aegon for your brother?"

Aemond shook his head. "No," he echoed, feeling his throat tighten, "not Aegon. Daeron."

"Daeron," Baela murmured in agreement. "It's a strong name for your heir."

"It is," he agreed, albeit weakly from where he stood over her, his eye flicking from the newborn boy cradled in her arms to the girl resting in Rhaena's arms opposite him. The boy who was the spit of Aemond, right down to the shape of his eyes and the slope of his nose.

His son.

His daughter.

Twins.

He swallowed as he took a half step closer, keeping his eye trained on them. "May I?"

Baela's head snaps upward at the sound of his voice. "Are you truly asking to hold your own children?" she asked, an incredulous expression spreading across her face. She let out a laugh as he sent her a more than unamused look. "I jest, husband."

He only frowned at her, hardly looking convinced, but let it go anyway.

She shifted against the pillows, careful not to jostle their boy too much as she sat up straighter. "Here," she said, softer this time as she placed Daeron in his arms. She watched them carefully, not missing the way Aemond stiffened, watching with rapture as his son's eyes opened, already a light shade of purple.

"He has my father's eyes," she noted, drawing a finger over the skin of his cheek, meeting Aemond's gaze when he glanced up at her, a look in his eye that she'd never seen before.

Rhaena had been right that day, she couldn't help but think as she grinned at him. He had been trying to be a good husband to her, patient even when she rebuffed and refused him those early months, refusing to budge over and over and over again.

Or maybe she had been too prideful, too full of her own hubris and too blind to admit it.

[eddaawrites]

Stay over?

Tara yummy

Summary- You and Tara have a sleepover and things escalate quickly

Warnings - Smut, cunnilingus, dom!reader, sub!tara.

Inspired by this request

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Getting into my car I back out of my driveway to go pick Tara up for our sleepover. It’d been a while since we’d hung out and I missed her so much. If I was being honest, I’ve had feelings for her for quite a while. And for good reason.

She’s one of the sweetest people I know, always putting others before herself. And the way she carries herself, like she’s the only person in the world. And don’t get me started on her looks, the woman is unconditionally and breathtakingly stunning.

The way her eyes shine in the light. Dark as the night sky, stars dancing on their surface.

The way her hair falls from her shoulders, so perfectly.

She’s everything I ever dreamed of and more.

So when I walk into her apartment after unlocking the door with my spare key, and see her dancing on the middle of the floor, swaying her hips to music playing on her tv while she packs her overnight bag. I fall into a trance. Time slows down and all that exists is her. Only her.

I zone out so hard that I don’t even register her walking towards me until I feel her arms around me, her fingers interlinking behind my neck.

It takes me a while to get my heart beating again, but when it does I wrap them around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Hey, angel” I say, pulling back to look at those eyes.

“Hi” she responds, and my knees almost buckle. Her voice in music to my ears.

“You ready to go?” I ask her, and she nods her head excitedly.

“Yeah, let’s go” she says as she grabs her bag and her keys and exits out the door.

Once we’re in the car I hand her the aux cord and she queues a couple songs. “McDonalds?” I ask although I already know the answer. “Duh” she replies.

A couple of minutes pass and I pull into the McDonald’s drive through. I don’t bother asking her what she wants since we go here so often that I’ve memorised her order.

When I’ve placed the order and driven to the next window I look over to her and see that she’s already looking at me. There’s something in her eyes, the way she’s looking at me, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it means.

“Are you okay?” “ I’m great” she replies. “Well I know that” I chuckle and she laughs.

God I love that sound.

“Thank you” she grins. I hadn’t realised I said it out loud. I feel my face start to heat up. She looks at me the way she did just a minute ago, what does it mean? A strand of hair fall onto her forehead and I feel myself reach for it, tucking it behind her ear, and letting my hand linger a bit longer than needed. And her cheeks glow a deep scarlet.

She’s so beautiful. Even when she’s not trying to be. She has me captivated by her beauty by merely existing. It’s astonishing.

She nuzzles her face into my hand and I gently stroke her cheek with my thumb.

The drive through window opens and a woman holding a paper bag speaks but her words don’t register. “Sorry?” I speak. “Here’s your order, have a nice evening.” “Right, you too” I take the bag out of her hands, roll the window up and drive.

The car ride to my place is weirdly silent, except for the music. She’s never this quiet. But I don’t get a chance to ask her why as I pull into the parking lot of my house and she practically runs in through the front door. I’m surprised there isn’t a cartoony Tara shaped hole in my door.

I follow after her with the paper bag. She’s already sitting on my couch, remote control in hand going through Disney+ looking for a movie to watch. Finally deciding on Lady and the Tramp.

I throw myself onto the couch placing the food between us and grabbing a blanket from the basket beside the couch and throwing it over both of our legs. We eat and watch the movie in silence, for the most part since Tara talks over the movie almost the whole time.

When the movie is finished she’s asleep with her hair in her face, so I brush it behind her ear and give her a light kiss on her forehead.

“You missed my lips by a long shot” she whispers. I chuckle “how very rude of me” “absolutely unacceptable” she looks up at me. “Well what do you suppose we do about that” she pauses for a second “I guess you’ll just have to give me two kisses to make up for it”. I smirk “Oh, yeah?” “Mhmm” she says as she leans in, her eyes darting to my lips. “Well if that’s the only way you’ll forgive me”.

Our lips meet in a slow and gentle manner. My hand glides up to her cheek, the other settling on her waist. She throws hers around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair and I groan as she gives it a soft tug, my hand tightening around her waist.

I glide my tongue over her bottom lip beckoning her to open her lips, she does. It’s messy, the kiss filled with lust and passion as I pull her to sit on my lap.

I let my hands travel her body starting at her waist, down to her hips, to her ass giving it a quick squeeze, and up again to her upper back and then letting them fall to rest on her hips, guiding her to grind on my thigh. She does so and moans at the friction, the sound making my lower stomach warm and I moan into her mouth.

Her hands fall to the hem of my shirt tugging on it and I raise my arms as she pulls it over my head and throws it to the side and I do the same for her, taking her appearance in and looking up at her, pulling her into another kiss, this one gentle and caring. “So beautiful” I whisper against her lips.

My lips trail from the corner of her mouth, to her jaw, her neck and finally the edge of her bra. I look up at her and she nods. So i take her bra off, my mouth watering at the sight and I bring her left tit into my mouth grabbing the other one with my hand. She arches her back into me and throws her head back.

When I twist the peak between my index finger and thumb and gently nibble on the other one she lets out the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “Oh fuck” she moans. She brings her hands to my belt buckle and looks down at me “please”. “Well since you asked so nicely”

I turn us over so she’s under me and kiss down her stomach. When I reach her pants I look up at her “are you sure?” To which she immediately responds to by nodding. “I need words, baby”. ”Yes, please. I need you”. “Atta girl” she responds by lifting her hips up for me to pull her pants down.

Once I’ve thrown them onto the ground with the rest of the clothes I lower myself so that I’m at eye level with her black lace thong. I wrap my arms around the backs of her thighs, pull her closer and kiss up the inside of her thighs slowly getting closer to where I want to be. I deliver a soft kiss to the wet spot on her panties and pull them down moaning at the sight.

“Jesus you’re soaked, is this all for me?” I breathe out. “All f’you” she moans. I slide a finger between her folds collecting her wetness, popping the finger into my mouth and rolling my eyes to the back of my head moaning at the taste. “God you taste so good, baby. You gonna let me have some more?” I ask. “Mhmm, can have as much as you want” she breathes out and I dive into her pussy, devouring her. Not letting a drop go to waste.

I suck her clit into my mouth, circling my tongue around it. Her back arches off the couch as she lets out a pornographic moan. “Fuck keep doing that”. She grinds her pussy on my face and I moan, the vibrations setting her own moans off.

I flip us over again so she’s sitting on my face and she instantly starts grinding down on my mouth. I slip my tongue into her pussy, and she grinds her clit on my nose. Her hands find my hair as her legs start shaking, her eyes rolling back and her head doing the same as she cums. Hard.

Once her moans die down I pull her off of me and place her down getting up and going to the bathroom to get a wet cloth to clean her up.

When I get back she’s half asleep so I try to be gentle so as to not wake her up. But when I accidentally touch her sensitive clit she hisses and clamps her legs shut. “Shh, I need to clean you up, baby”. She opens her legs again and lets me finish.

Once I’m done I grab us both some oversized T-shirts from my closet and put mine on, taking my pants off in the process and putting the second one on her. Then I lay down on the couch next to her pulling her back to my chest.

“Goodnight, Tara” I whisper in her ear before placing a kiss on the top of her head “Goodnight”

———————————————————————

A/n: Sorry this took so long I’ve been kinda out of it lately. And please be nice since this is the first time I’ve written smut. Love you guys!! ❤️

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ WHO’S GONNA KNOW YOU? (ME.)

↳ the chronicles of jj & smartiepants!

(american)footballer!jason grace x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

on the radio . . . the tortured poets department (taylor swift)

an SHES BACKKK!!!!! anw the song isn’t really their vibe i just got that line from there in case anyone was wondering!

you and jason have been through a lot together

from meeting in high school under the pouring rain, when he was the captain of jupiter high’s football team and you were just the new girl who transferred all the way from new york in an attempt to escape your past, to eventually dating, graduating high school and university and moving into your first apartment, it was safe to say neither one of you was going anywhere

which was why it was only natural for jason to propose to you eventually. if he could’ve had it his way, the two of you would’ve been married as soon as you threw your graduation caps up at the sky, but he he had to be patient. marriage was serious (jason knew this all too well, having seen how his own mother’s marriages turned out) and he wanted the two of you to be fully settled into your new lives outside of school before starting your journey as mr and mrs grace

so, he bided his time. he focused on his career, wanting to build the perfect life for the two of you in the future, getting into an nfl team right after university and beginning to write his own book only a year later. he also focused on your career, maybe a little more than his own - he couldn’t help it, his love for you transcended the heavens themselves and he couldn’t be prouder of you for growing into the woman you currently are

since he loved you so dearly, jason’s first ever book was obviously going to be written about you. more specifically, your story and how you brought life into jason’s existence the moment your destinies intertwined. said first ever book was also finally going to be published in a week, and with the two of you being at the height of all aspects of life, there was no better time for jason to pop the question

he made a special copy just for you, with a note written at the end, and asked you to read it, feigning uncertainty about his writing despite having gone over it with his editors several times. how could you say no to those sweet, baby blue eyes?

every time jason saw you reading his book, he felt his heart beat faster at the knowledge of what was at the very end of it. he’d already asked you to let him know when you got close to the end as according to him, there was a part he had to see your reaction to (not a complete lie, for jason could never lie to you). it only took you three days to reach the final chapter out of excitement for what jason could’ve written

“okay, i’m gonna read it now…” you said, a grin on your face as you reached for the book on your bedside table. jason sat to you on your bed, a velvet box with the ring of your dreams sitting prettily in the pocket of his sweatpants. he bit his lip, trying his hardest to calm his nerves down

this didn’t go unnoticed by you. looking up to see him in his state, your brows furrowed and you scooted closer to your soon to be fiancé, delicately cupping his head with your hand, “hey, i’m sure it’ll be really good, you’re a natural at writing, jase!” you gave him a soft smile and didn’t continue reading until he nodded and smiled back

the last chapter was short and nearly brought you to tears, but what really started the waterworks was the note written at the end

y/n, i have loved you from the moment i saw the smile on your face when i offered to walk you home under my umbrella. you may not know this, but i actually lived in the complete opposite direction to your home at the time, and i didn’t get home until the sun set that day. however, i couldn’t be happier. as i lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling of my room, i realized i’d walk to the ends of the earth if it meant i’d get to see your smile. no one has known me the way you do, and i don’t think anyone ever will, my very heart and soul belong to you and you alone. so, will you let me do the honours of becoming your husband and spending the rest of eternity going wherever you go?

PS. this isn’t actually getting published. it’s too intimate of a moment for me to do so, and i know we’d both hate it

PPS. if you don’t want to get married, i understand

your smile was wobbly as you looked at jason through tear-filled eyes. your sweet jason, who was currently tearing up himself as he presented the most gorgeous wedding ring to you

putting the book aside, you jumped into his arms and peppered his face with kisses, your tears mixing with his own as you did so. pulling away, you said, “of course i’ll marry you, jason! you’re an idiot for that last comment,” the two of you laughed then, and, finally having released your energy, you lay in bed with your head on jason’s chest and his arms wrapped around your waist

placing a kiss on the top of your head, jason grinned at you and said, “well, i’m your idiot now, aren’t i, smartiepants?”

“you’ve always been my idiot, silly,” you replied, a sigh of pure joy escaping your lips. despite the anticipation of the new journey you and jason were beginning together, the two of you found sleep immediately, dreaming of each other under the moonlit sky

[sirdindjarin]

A Ghoul and a Vault-Dweller Walk Into a Bar

Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard x Lucy MacLean.

TAGS: Fluff, pining, introspection lol.

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol consumption.

Based off of this post ! I loved the idea and couldn't get it out of my head.

AO3 link 🤠

A few days after the events of the last episode, the Ghoul and Lucy take solace in a quiet saloon, only to find their dynamic is changing.

“Ain’t this a peach,” the Ghoul muttered, taking in the New Vegas saloon. It was a postwar attempt to recreate what no one still walking had ever experienced, but it was faithful enough to send the Ghoul back to the set of a movie some two centuries earlier. He could smell the burn of the stage lights, hear the staccato of studio executives arguing, and see PAs stumbling over cables in the background. 

His bittersweet reverie ended when - what else - the Vault Dweller opened her mouth. Again. 

Bouncing on her tiptoes, her wide smile was interrupted only by her exclamation, “Wow! This place is right out of a history book. Oh, gosh, look at that!” 

Hanging from the ceiling was a myriad of materials in various stages of rust and decay. Grimy, glaring patrons grumbled as Lucy rushed past their tables to examine some memorabilia plastered to the wall. She gingerly ran her gray forefinger over the rusted farm equipment. “See these? They used to pull these behind a tractor, or a horse, and it made furrows in the ground. That made it a lot easier for them to plant things like corn, tobacco, wheat -” 

The Ghoul ignored her lesson. Let the history buff have her boring version of fun, it’d give him some peace. After the past three days, he needed it. He strode toward the far end of the bar, spurs clinking.

Lucy had been silent after the revelation with her father. Downright catatonic, almost. The following morning, still in sight of the Hollywood sign, and out of the daggum goodness of his heart (truly, he’d been a saint to even think about it) he’d offered her a hit of an upper, but she’d curled her lip in disgust. No skin off his nose, he’d thought humorously, he would just let her stew. 

Before the sun had set that next day, however, the girl abruptly flipped from traumatized silence to her usual non-stop chatter. He hadn't asked what changed. The Ghoul assumed she'd come to terms with her father being an evil sonofabitch. He expected her trauma would rear its ugly head at some point, but that was a future problem. Once she started talking again, he had again been a saint - he’d only thought about shooting her once. And that only because she had asked him a stupid question. 

You mentioned finding your family. You have kids?

Sidling up to the bar top, his ragged coat slapping gently against the stool, the Ghoul’s attention was drawn to a jukebox against the wall to his right. Colorful lights flashed, dimmed by a layer of dust; but the old machine advertised it was ready to sing. He glanced curiously at some of the songs, felt a flicker of some emotion he wouldn’t put name to, and turned away. He drummed his gloved fingers on the wooden counter, impatient to have something to smother the spark of sadness. Here, the weight of the past was literally hanging over his head.

The Ghoul had directed his focus on the other end of the bar, where the barkeep seemed to be pointedly ignoring him, when a dull scraping sound alerted him to someone sitting beside him - between him and the mocking jukebox. 

“Hi! Barkeep?” Lucy beamed and motioned between herself and the Ghoul, “Could we get a drink, please?” 

The gruff man looked more like a patron than a bartender, all heavy gait and uninterested stare, but he raised his eyebrows at Lucy. The Ghoul laughed under his breath. 

“What?” She asked in a whisper. Grimacing, she worried, “Oh… is that not how you’re supposed to do it?”

“There’s a laundry list of things you shouldn’t be doin’, Vaultie, but flaggin’ down the bartender ain’t one of ‘em.” 

Lucy straightened her posture. “You know, we have established a mutual goal and I would appreciate mutual respect. I don’t think being laughed at is-”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t laughin’ at you; quit bein’ so sensitive,” the Ghoul stated flatly. “Don’t we make quite the damned pair? A Ghoul and a Vault Dweller walk into a bar…” he trailed off with another chuckle.

Lucy relaxed her shoulders, still feeling awkward. “Oh, haha.” 

“All we got is distilled water and tequila. Which’un you want?” The bartender interrupted, though he spoke only to Lucy.

“Uh, I would like to try the tequila. I still have some water leftover and it’ll be fun to try something new.” 

The bartender sucked on his teeth, turned, and left - resenting serving a peppy Vault Dweller and outright refusing to serve the arrogant ghoul seated beside her as though it was a person.

“They don’t much like my kind here, darlin’,” the Ghoul grinned lopsidedly. He tapped his holster with his new forefinger. “I’ll have to get my drink a different way.”

Eyes wide, Lucy nearly stood on the rung of the stool as she shouted to the bartender: “Make that two glasses of tequila, please.” 

The barkeep went still for a brief moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it. He’d seen some weird shit, but if this wasn’t the strangest duo he’d ever served, he’d eat a radroach. He sent the shots sliding down the well-worn wood counter with surprising skill, and they stopped directly in front of Lucy. She nudged one of the grimy glasses toward the Ghoul, who grunted. 

In those old movies, the characters often clinked their glasses together. Excited to perform a toast in a real saloon, Lucy raised her glass toward the Ghoul. Her eyes sparkled so earnestly that the Ghoul briefly considered indulging her. Instead, he tipped the shot glass into his parched mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction.

“Ah,” he hummed. This was nothing like the chems he used to stay sane, and tequila wasn’t his favorite, but damn if it didn’t feel like the alcohol stripped off some of the layers of the past week's shit.

Upon opening his eyes, he was surprised by the mix of amusement and regret in his chest at the way the girl’s face had fallen. It was childishly funny the way he could disappoint her so easily - as though they kept the same standards of behavior - but the pleasure of her disappointment only took the Ghoul so far. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he goaded, his voice deep and persuasive. “It ain’t top-shelf but it ain’t lizard-piss, either.” 

“I don’t know what either of those mean,” Lucy mumbled as she brought the glass to her lips; she winced as fumes burned her nostrils. Abandoning caution, she threw the clear liquid into her mouth and swallowed as the Ghoul had. The liquid stung as it slid down her throat; her mouth puckered. Fighting the urge to cough, she cleared her throat instead. Lucy refused to let the Ghoul have anything more to bully her about.

Lucy blinked away the wetness in her eyes. The Ghoul was watching her. Lucy couldn’t discern the look in his eye, but it wasn’t one she’d seen before. The Ghoul had made certain of that. 

“That was, um, so good,” she grimaced. But the warmth in her chest and stomach was pleasant. “You want another?”

The Ghoul chuckled, “If you’re buyin’.” 

***

“No, I only meant it as a compliment,” Lucy slurred, blushing furiously. She was only four shots in, but the Ghoul was starting to get concerned that she would throw up on him. Lucy wobbled on her stool. “Really, they’re nice eyes. No, ‘m okey dokey. Wow, this stuff is strong.” She held her hand out in front of her and wiggled her fingers, fascinated by the way her vision seemed to be a half-second beyond reality. 

“Must be. You,” he pointed in her face, “can’t handle your liquor.”

"Hey, it’s my first try," she steadied herself. 

“It’s gon’ be your last if you paint my boots. You look a little green, Vaultie.”

Her big brown eyes refocused on the Ghoul. “Okay, well, distract me. I know you won’t tell me anything about yourself.” 

He tensed. 

“And that’s okay. But I don't even know your name." Lucy threw him a frown, "What if I have to call for you - what am I supposed to say?” 

The Ghoul chewed at the inside of his cheek, tearing away some skin as he considered. He’d had twelve shots. She wasn’t asking anything too revealing; and she had saved his life. And maybe all her “Do Unto Others” bullshit wasn’t bullshit, but he still wasn’t about to crack open like a can of biscuits. The Ghoul gazed down into her doe eyes, then he and the tequila made a decision.

“Cooper,” he answered after safely looking away, his voice rough over the word.

Something scratched at the back of Lucy’s brain. Tipsy as she was, she knew this was important - she did not want to ruin whatever progress they seemed to have made. She nodded and replied politely, “That’s a good name. Cooper.” 

Lucy watched the rainbow of lights as they reflected off the shiny bar. She slid off the stool and leaned over the jukebox, flipping idly through the songs. 

Cooper held his thirteenth shot in his gloved hand as he stared ahead at the blank wall of the now-empty saloon. After they had collectively purchased nearly twenty shots, the bartender had lost all sense of distaste for either of them; he now sat in a chair, dozing, waiting for the Ghoul and the Vault Dweller to ask him for more. 

A gasp came from Cooper’s right. His stool groaned as he turned, and he saw Lucy grinning up at him.

“Look at this song: I Walk the Line. It’s from one of my favorite movies -” 

Cooper's stomach lurched. 

“A Man and His Dog.” Lucy selected the song. “And the main character’s real name was Cooper. Used to watch those old Westerns with - with my dad all the time. The best ones are the ones with him. With Cooper Howard, I mean. He was always the good guy. He never hurt anyone. Well, unless he absolutely had to, of course.” She began to wax poetic about ethics, and her audience of one tuned out. The gruff croon of Johnny Cash filled the otherwise silent building.

Cooper Howard debated whether or not he should tell her the truth. He didn’t know how much she knew about his life as an actor - some of her questions about his family could be answered if she knew about his widely-publicized, definitely-public-record divorce - but seeing her face when she learned that her favorite cowboy movie star was the radiation-ravaged monster sitting beside her would be hilarious.

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Well, would it be hilarious? Cooper wasn’t so certain anymore. Lucy’s disappointment in him was rapidly losing its luster. Her cowboy had fallen a height that would’ve killed anyone else - had killed almost everyone else. The good man she idolized was dead. He wouldn’t resurrect him just to kill him again in front of Lucy. 

For the second time that afternoon, she pulled him abruptly from a reverie. 

“I wonder what it was like. Everyone in these saloons… with a jukebox playing while you dance with a handsome stranger,” Lucy gazed out at the empty room. “It must’ve been incredible.”

Cooper didn’t correct her about jukeboxes and saloons. Instead, he took his thirteenth shot, allowing it to burn away what was left of his judgment. 

“Well, come on down, darlin’.” He held out his hand - the one that was one-fifth her.

Dubious, distrustful despite their fledgling partnership, Lucy’s eyes darted between his outstretched hand and his dark eyes. This man had cut off her finger less than a week before. He’d tried to sell her. 

But this wasn't a desperate game of cat and mouse, and he no longer believed she was a lying murderer. (That conversation had been a hoot. One of the few times he’d asked her a question, Cooper had wondered what possessed her to cut off Wilzig’s fuckin’ head, and, after she told him Wilzig had left her no choice, she tearfully described the sound of his spine severing and nearly vomited. The Ghoul had laughed.) She was here of her own choice. Lucy chose to follow the Ghoul - Cooper - into the Wilds and the Wasteland. She trusted him now, and he her.

“It’s alright, Vaultie. Y’know I won’t bite,” he drawled with a smirk. “Of the two’ve us, which one has bitten the other?” 

“Wh-?” Lucy started to ask, then decided better of it. Cooper had given her his name and his trust. He had been as kind as summer by Wasteland standards, and she would be damned if her manners were the poor ones. She took his hand.

As sure as night is dark and day is light

I keep you on my mind both day and night

The room was spinning, and Lucy wasn’t sure if the blame should be placed on the tequila or the Ghoul who held her so gently. This was a far cry from the lasso he’d thrown around her last week. She opened her mouth, fully intent on telling him See, the Golden Rule is golden for a reason. But when his hand slid slowly from the curve of her waist to the small of her back, she found that the words were missing. 

He guided them in a small, slow circle. Cooper’s chest was pressed up against her own, and it was though his centuries-deep layers of leather and cotton, and her pristine, thick Vault-Tec suit were non-existent. The vulnerability set his teeth on edge, but it relaxed Lucy. She let the music, the alcohol, and the Ghoul take her. Uncharacteristically shy, and somewhat nauseous, she laid her head on his shoulder. 

Cooper hummed along with Johnny Cash, letting himself feel a modicum of peace in this improbable, inexplicable bubble. He could feel Lucy’s heart beating rapidly beneath her garish suit. His own heart felt like the tattoo of a horse’s hooves. Cooper’s jaw tensed as he wondered how she’d feel to know that. He found himself hoping. 

Hope and contentment were as foreign to him as a nose and hair, now. Yet he felt the gnaw of yearning. Lucy was a reflection and a time machine. Maybe that cowboy - the one who deserved both hope and contentment - could live again. 

And happiness I've known proves that it's right

Because you're mine, I walk the line.

[luffyvace]

The Luffy Package ☠️📦

(General & relationship headcanons as well as Luffy quotes (relationship implied) for his big day!!)

had to go all out for my fav 😊🤭

General Luffy headcanons:

Luffy has nails so short dirt can’t get under it 😭

not necessarily the booty diggers 🤭

but just really short, like almost booty digger ig—but not it

he has like 1% nail

its not intentional, they just never grow

i have a feeling someone taught luffy how to dance

idk who

it was likely makino, shanks or some else he cares deeply about

but he learned early on and has been a great dancer ever since!

maybe at parties since they happen a lot in one piece ⭐️

But just because someone taught him doesn’t mean he was awful at dancing at first

maybe he was a natural!

feel the rhythm typa thing 🎶 🕺

it’d be funny if he was

cuz imagine a guy that can dance but can’t sing

how you gon dance on beat to a out of tune song?? 😭

at least to uta anyway

ive always loved Luffy’s singing‼️

he never thinks about what the one piece is

but would be the most disappointed if it isn’t something cool

this dude is NOT interested in books so if the one piece really is just joyboy’s tale i don’t think he’ll be satisfied..😭 (I’m talking about the theory)

he definitely wouldn’t say it was all for nothin tho

he still has nakama, treasure and is the pirate king!! 👑

but…the one piece as books is just a mega L for him

Robin will enjoy ♡

you know that thing he does where he stretches his face real big? Like the time he was tryna cheer nami up when she was sick? And it scared vivi and zoro?

he scared himself when he first realized he could do that too

he was bored and started messing around with his devil fruit

at first he was outside and he stretched his mouth, and when realized he could see inside it, he was like ‘I wonder what this looks like’

so he went inside and did it into a mirror

he somehow managed to trash the whole bathroom running away from his reflection

he quickly got over it and realized it was kinda funny

he showed Ace and sabo who also found it terrifying

then preceded to scare people with it ever since

d end! :)

I feel like he’s thought about what the ‘D’ in his name stands for too

He came up with a bunch of outrageous names that likely aren’t it..

”Dingus?”

”Donkey?”

”Demarto?”

”Doorbell?”

”Dinosaur?”

yeah, dinosaur seems the most plausible 😊

Luffy Dinosaur Monkey!

‘HEY THAT SOUNDS COOL 🤩’

yup, that’s probably what it stands for 😁

sneaks into the usopp factory whenever he’s not in there

he ends up playing with his creations and destroys, it, other projects, and the factory altogether in the progress

he then runs out laughing

usopp later returns to the ruins only to find his months work of his greatest creation yet named “ultimate captain usopp three thousand smasher” has been reduced to fragments of metal nothing ☺️

listen idk if oda has confirmed Luffy’s favorite color but I would say it’s none

why? The same reason why you can’t ask a toddler their’s, it’s just gonna constantly change and you know it’s not the truth

arguably, if I had to pick an actual color based off canon, (IK it’s a shade but wtv) it’d be white

why? wym? Don’t you remember that one ep where luffy sang a song about how he loves snow cuz it’s so white?

(one of his lesser talked about songs 😭💗)

Relationship Luffy headcanons:

Luffy as a partner is really rambunctious and loving

But do note that loving doesn’t always mean romantic

for him it means loving you a lot but not being lovey dovey when showing it

you need protecting? He’s on the case!! He can’t and he has to beat someone up? One of your nakama’ll do it so stay with them!

your strong? Perfect! He’s gonna go fight this guy so you go beat up that one!

why am I mentioning that? Because it shows he has a great sense of trust and faith in you

Of course he does with all his friends but your reasoning is different

not only are you his nakama, your also his partner!! Which means he loves you in a intimate way!! Not just platonically

I say “just” because I swear sometimes Luffy’ll feel like a friend with you (best friends and lover typa thing 💞) he’s just as goofy and chaotic with you as he is Usopp and chopper

he feels extra lively when around you and always wants to play, whether you like this or not. Your personality depends a lot on how your relationship with him is but I won’t dabble into that today because it’s his birthday. 🎉 but honestly it doesn’t matter if you punch him like nami or laugh like brook-

he’s still gonna bug you! 💖 seriously you can’t get rid of this dude 🤨 Luffy will drag you on every single one of his adventures so I hope your either brave or fearless like him. The only time you two separate and he allows it is when he’s fighting the boss type thing LOL. Like Doflamingo or smth.

that said Luffy isn’t clingy he just likes being around you and seeing what your doing. Especially when you haven’t landed on an island yet and he’s bored. He’s always singing, playing with your face (ironic cuz he’s the stretchy one) or trying to get you to play some silly game he made up

that usually somehow manages to tick everyone off. 🤷‍♀️

will grab your hands randomly and make you dance to some song he made up about literally anything he sees or feels

he even made one about YOU once :3

”OOOOOHHH your my partner! Yes my partner! We’re having lots of fun! Going on adventures- YAHOO!! And dancing a ton! We’ll dance all arcross the grand line!! Take your hats off and let them fly!! YIPPIE!! We’re having a graaaaand TIIIIIIIME!” 😁🕺

Luffy quotes: (implied relationship between you two)

”HEY LOOK DO YOU SEE THAT ISLAND!! Cmoncmoncmoncmoncmoncmon!! HURRY UP I WANNA GO EXPLORING!!”

”can you sneak in the kitchen and steal some food from sanji? I’m really hungry and he won’t let me in anymore!!”

”LETS HAVE A PARTY!!!” — “we don’t need a reason! CMON!’ CHEERS!”

”lets tame that thing and make it our pet!!”

”what should we name em?” — “Junpi? SOUNDS GOOD TO ME!!” (You didn’t get a chance to respond 💕)

”HEY LOOK A RESTAURANT!! Grab on I’ll rocket us there!! HURRY UP IM HUNGRYYY!!”

”hey! Do you have any food on you?? I’m hungry!”

”Liar!! I can smell it!!”

”take a bath?! I don’t stink!!— EUGH!- okay yeah maybe….but I don’t wanna take a bath!! I’ll get all tired!”

”I’ll leave you with that guy! So go kick some butt! I’ll deal with that red forehead guy!!” (AN: There’s no actual red forehead guy that’s canon, I made it up 👍)

”⁉️ HEY WHAT HAPPENED?! Did that guy beat you up?! I’ll send him flying!! 💢”

”Shishishishi! Shh! Watch this! I’m gonna drop this on Usopp’s head! 🤭😂”

”Lets play a gaaaaame!! I’m so bored! 😞”

”can I have some of your food?” *Already stuffing a piece in his mouth* (the point is it’s not the whole thing ⁉️😱)

”HE LOOK MY BOUNTY WENT UP!! 🤩🤩‼️“

”Isn’t this fun?! 😆” (having a near death experience)

”don’t worry! My injuries don’t hurt at all! See? I’m dancing! I’m having fun!”

”oops. Sorry.”

”look!” (Two chop sticks stuffed up his nose and mouth)

”WOAHH A MAN KILLING BEAR!! LETS GO CHECK IT OUT! 🤩” (even if you wanted to say no your already being hoisted over there because you weren’t running fast enough for him)

”plan? Never mind that!! Let’s go! We’re gonna kick that butt head guys’ butt!!” (AN: another fictional villain I made up on a whim)

”HOLD ON TIGHT” (Gum Gum Rockets with hardly any warning)

”let’s play a game!! It’s called steal zoro’s swords without waking up zoro!! 😁”

”nyop!” (Puts you atop his shoulders 💓)

”nyop!” (Jumps on your back almost knocking you over 💝)

”look at my disguise! Nobody will suspect us! 😎👍”

”Cmere!” (Pulls you into his lap)

”HI! Is it almost time for dinner yet?” (Plops down in your lap)

Thanks for supporting me and my work—as well as my random disappearances too 💗🤗

Everyone! Say it!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUFFY‼️‼️

[smilingbuckley]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

who am I kidding. This is no tidbit. Right now I'm working full time on the fake dating fic - hopefully until I finish writing it. I think I only have one chapter left after this one. Though this chapter is getting loooongg. Anyways, enjoy!

“There are Mexican wedding traditions?” Buck asks him, surprised. He never really looked into that. He should.

“Well, you’ve got los padros y los madros, who are basically like godparents and sponsor the wedding. The well known mariachis, that perform religious songs. A lot of weddings take place during a mass. You’ve got wedding coins, el lazo… lots of things, really.”

Buck blinks a few times, “Did you di all that?”

Eddie laughs, “God, no. Shannon and I had a small and quick ceremony – Shannon’s family wasn’t religious. Or Mexican.”

Buck hums, “But… if you ever got married again, would you… want that?”

Eddie thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ve never really felt as in touch with that part of me as others did, you know? And most traditions are religious, which I… don’t know if I am. I’m still questioning that. But… I don’t know. Maybe some? Or like, just hints of them? Obviously I would include the food. And some music, look at those people swinging. Wouldn’t mind showing some salsa moves either,” Eddie laughs. “I don’t know. I’d probably just want the classic traditions, not really anything religious. Just close friends and family, not so big as this. And outside at a beautiful place. We’ve been to too many calls where floors collapsed.”

“True,” Buck nods. Someone offers them champagne and he takes it.

“What about you?” Eddie asks him.

“Well, I’m not Mexican, so I doubt it would be appropriate,” Buck answers.

Eddie snorts, covering his mouth and nose with his hand. He shakes his head as he laughs, “No, smartass. What kind of wedding would you want?”

“Oh. Right. That makes more sense,” Buck answers, his cheeks blushing again. “Uh, I don’t know. I guess if I just have the people I love with me, anything would be great. But I agree on the outside part… maybe in a garden with a lot of flowers… though I don’t know if that’s such a great idea for people with allergies. Could be a beach. In the spring, so people aren’t too miserable from the heat yet. And when flowers are blooming and still brightly colored. I’d maybe want some clichés, Maddie walking me down, Jee as a flower girl. Bobby my best man.”

“Bobby? Not me?” Eddie asks.

Buck had just taken a sip of champagne and starts coughing.

Hell no would Eddie be his best man! He’d be his groom. But he can’t say that right now.

Taglist:

@buddieswhvre @diazsdimples @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck

@theotherbuckley @jesuiscenseedormir @loveyouanyway @chaosandwolves @mattsire

@mel-vaz @inkmortal-trash389 @princess-of-the-snake-pit @nilletellsstories @laundryandtaxesworld

@specialbrownieeater @m1kayu @trustme-imnormal @darkrose6578 @mage8

Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hi maggots... I have to go out for an entrance exam in a half hour but here I am, stealing a while to talk to you all. I don't know, why are we always making time for the things that are important and using time for the things we have to do but always stealing time for what we want to do? What is wasting time, anyway? I don't know. I don't know much at all.

I made the mistake of playing a new song while typing this first bit. It's Birch, by Big Red Machine and Taylor Swift. Do new songs ever make you feel a bit nervous but excited, like you're experiencing some emotion for the first time and reading a book or watching a movie and you don't quite know how it will end and where it will take you on the way? It's not the kind of thing you do lightly. Well, I mean, it's not the kind of thing I can do lightly. I'll have to listen to it again, while I'm not here writing.

This counts, doesn't it, as writing? Why do I have to be writing my book or a poem or a song for it to be real writing? I'm putting words together and I'm putting them together for us, for you and me. God we make ourselves feel guilty with so many arbitrary definitions.

A familiar song is playing now, The Alcott by The National and Taylor Swift. I think their voices meld together beautiful, gritty and smooth. I think Swift is a skilled singer-songwriter, as well as a performer. I think a lot of things.

Why am I writing an entrance exam? Well, writing is an exaggeration, it'll involve sketching and maybe an interview. It's for an art school. The design school I got into, which I told you all about and was thinking of not doing, well, that got messy. They were... not very polite about a scholarship that they'd said they'd give. And I can't risk going to a situation like my last college. I don't wanna sully this post with it (how do I use words like wanna and sully next to each other, I really cannot pick a way to use this language) but well. It wasn't fun. I don't want to be an unfriendly/unsafe environment if I can help it.

Am I excited or nervous for the exam? Not really. Too many things have happened to leave any room for that. It's mainly resignation, a sort of oh, is this what's happening now? ok. That's sad. But I still care about things, I promise. Not the things I used to, like academics or grades or some abstract future. I care about you. I care about you so much. I think about you all the time. I care about my mum and my dog. About stickers and Good Omens and Sherlock Holmes and music and books.

It's a different kind of caring.

I have ten minutes left. I need to shower and pack my things in that time. I'm cutting it fine. Like a slice of whale. Some of you are confused by that. A lot of you are thinking Asmi, no, no, no. That makes me smirk. A fine slice of whalegina, loves.

I'll tell you all about it one day (hush, those of you still desperately thinking Asmi, no with a mixture of horror and fascination).

It's the sixth of May here. 2024, for those of you who've lost track of years. A Monday. Tomorrow is my twentieth birthday. So many things are happening in my life, not all of them good, but what's always good is you. It's us.

We're good. We're always good. I love you. So much.

I promise, maggots. We're more than friends, we're family. And to whoever it is reading this, maggot, even if we've never spoken, I care about you. Because you took the time to read this. You took the time to care. I care, too. I care about you.

I'll go shower now, in a bit of a rush, but smiling. Because of you. Because of all of you.

Love, Asmi