#instead of finding a way to make it about taylor

[swaps55]

From a future chapter of Mezzo:

~

When the bartender brings their drinks, Shepard lifts his up and ponders it like it has the answers to the universe, as so many others, turian and alien alike, have done before him. No one ever finds those answers, but it doesn’t stop anyone from looking.

“You know biotics have freakish metabolisms?” Shepard says, still peering at his glass.

Garrus hums in surprise. “Biotics? I remember all of Mess Sergeant Greico’s griping about you, Alenko, Wrex, and Liara constantly eating him into the cracks.”

Shepard tilts his head. “I thought all turian metaphors were about sand.”

“We have a lot of metaphors.”

Shepard makes a sound of acknowledgement as he takes a sip. When he finishes, he sets the glass down and wipes the corner of his mouth. “Higher metabolism has always made getting drunk something I had to want. Thankfully, I never wanted it much.”

Garrus gestures to the glass, and the evidence of the ones that preceded it. “I take it that’s changed.”

“I’m testing a theory.” He takes another, longer sip.

“What theory?”

“How much Cerberus fucked with my new meatsuit.”

A distasteful thrum runs through his subvocals. “Charming way to put it.”

“Meat and tubes is how Taylor described my corpse. Just telling it like it is.”

Garrus’ mandibles flare. “So…what? You think you can’t get drunk?”

“That’s the theory.”

“If getting drunk isn’t something you wanted to do before, what does it matter now?”

Shepard glares at him. “Because fuck off, that’s why.”

Garrus holds up an apologetic hand. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir. I lost my rank when I died.”

And it appears Anderson didn’t offer it back.

“Well, as the first turian to deal with the resurrection of a superior alien officer, I’m making the executive decision to still respect your old rank, if that’s all right with you.”

Instead of a smile, Shepard just mutters under his breath, face still painted in a deep scowl.

Maybe this was a mistake. Rank or no rank, Shepard was the person Garrus took his orders from. Pissing him off wouldn’t be the stupidest thing he’s ever done, but perhaps testing that boundary wasn’t in anyone’s best interest. Garrus half-rises off his stool. “Sorry I bothered you, Shepard. I’ll lea—”

Shepard reaches out and grabs hold of Garrus’ upper arm. “No. Sit.” His voice wavers. “Please.”

[reluctantbylerblog]

I don't expect to get good feedback but I feel like I need to say this: not everything is about taylor swift. yes, her ex posted an article about gaza on his instagram story the day of her birthday. but to call that a targeted act of malice, done solely to make her look bad, in my opinion, is in very poor taste to the current situation in gaza. don't get me wrong, I love taylor, some days she's all that gets me through the day, but she is NOT the center of everyone's universe. joe alwyn called for a ceasefire LAST WEEK, along with many other celebrities, among which taylor was not one of them. I don't even keep up with what the guy is up to and even I knew he called for a ceasefire. I think it's likely, with this being her first birthday since the breakup and with her living her life much more publicly, he knew fans were going to be paying more attention to what he posted and rather than give fodder to that certain subsect of swifties that like to hate on every person that was once in her life (I'm looking at you, people who were making fun of karlie kloss for her seats at so-fi stadium) he decided instead to turn heads to the current genocide in gaza! let me repeat that: there is a genocide going on! not everyone is thinking about taylor swift rn bffr!

furthermore, if you think his speaking out makes her look bad, think about why that is. I don't think celebrities have an obligation to "speak out" just because they are celebrities, but there is no denying taylor speaking out in support of palestine could literally be a key factor in turning public opinion in palestine's favor.

using the actual human suffering of the palestinian people as a way to make things about cheap celebrity gossip and "throwing shade" just to make your favorite celebrity look good is fucking tacky and it makes me ashamed to be in this fandom. if you're going to be doing that, the least you can do is click a button every once in a while too

[unproduciblesmackdown]

The Billions Showrunners Go To See Bway Bmc like lgw "the problem has always been me" and they look at each other approvingly and nod like now he's getting it :) and then the squip's deactivated and everyone's embracing the realities of being a person and rejecting the idea there can be, should be, and is a set of standards to meet to get everything you want and preclude yourself from being mistreated and they're like nooo what a powerful tragedy :(

[sevikasfemme]

my hands are shaking from holding back from you —

— baby's first fic 🥺👉👈 !! i'm a poet and this is my first time writing a full fic for a character so of course it's about our wife, Sevika ❤️

💋you and sevika broke up a month ago; you taunt her to the point of lightly embarrassing you on a phone call with makeup sex 🤭

💋title is just direct lyrics of Dress by Taylor Swift ; fic has loose inspo/association— middle photo tile is a crop from a piece i commissioned by danacrowart❤️

content tags: lesbian sex, reader has a vagina, femme!reader, bottom!reader, top!sevika, jealousy, possessiveness, dom/sub undertones, strap-on use, impact play, implied/referenced drug use, breakup/makeup, some fluff, semi-public sex

word count: 4.6k | read on ao3 | bluesky

You and Sevika had broken up nearly a month ago. She had given you some bullshit excuse about fearing for your wellbeing because of her line of work—fucking self-sabotaging martyr that she was. You called her out on it; told her it was a stupid reason to end the relationship, and she didn’t even argue. Instead, she had the nerve to attempt to reassure you that, despite your shared social circles, things wouldn’t be awkward because the two of you would still be “best friends.” 

You later found out from Ran that there had been some threat made by a disgruntled enforcer involving you, and knowing Sevika, that was probably the impetus that led to her even considering ending things with you. Your safety being at risk. It didn’t change that you were heartbroken, angry, and tear-stained on the best of the days after she left. Not to say that she was doing much better; she’d started chain smoking between glasses of whiskey in the mornings, losing terribly in her games at the last drop; hell, she’d been too dysregulated to work the first three days following the breakup. Silco had never seen her so emotionally volatile.

Despite your heartache, you spent the weeks apart trying to forget Sevika, while all she did was mope in the memory of you—wrestling with her decision that led to her own misery. Inevitably, your friends encouraged you to ‘get back out there,’ to which you, a bit too eagerly, agreed. Were you almost solely motivated by the thrill of potentially seeing Sevika at a location she was known to frequent? Maybe. Still, you let them preen over you, hyping you up as they fawn over how pretty you look; hair and makeup done in the way you knew Sevika liked. The dress you slipped into was not one she had personally seen or had the opportunity to praise. Still, it was her favorite color— something you’d intentionally noted when you bought it out of spite, vying for the opportunity to flaunt it in her direction. It had become the catalyst in your daydreams of getting back together with her— daydreams that were borderline maladaptive, at this point... Still, if she was going to insist on remaining apart, you were going to make her regret it.

The Last Drop never changed— buzzing and neon; alive with shimmer-filled patrons whose pupils were too wide. Arms linked with your friends, letting them move you, you enter the familiar space—your eyes were trained on Sevika’s regular spots; searching for her. You hoped to see her brooding at the end of the stairwell, peacocking while she plays poker in one of the round booths, or smoking near the exit door in the back. Alas, to your disappointment, your eyes don’t find hers, and you are suddenly less interested in being out at all. 

For most of the evening, you mindlessly swipe on one of your dating apps, barely engaged in the conversation amongst your friends. You match with several mildly interesting people—you even set up a date for later that night—but you’re bored; and your eyes keep flitting around the space, hoping for a glimpse of Sevika. The hours tick by, and you’re almost ready to make your friends take you home—but then you hear her voice behind you, saying your name, her tone riddled with confusion, inquisition, and something else you can’t place. 

For a moment, everything around you seems to just stop. Your eyes lock with hers and it’s as if the last month apart never happened. 

“Why are you here?” she continues— and her tone; it doesn’t sit right with you. Your features settle into a glare, as the prior month of yearning to be with her slams to the forefront of your mind. You were pissed. You open your mouth to give her a smart-ass reply when her voice cuts you off.

“C’mere. We need to talk,” she grunts, her prosthetic fingers curling around your arm unexpectedly, drawing a noise of protest from you. You roll your eyes before letting her drag you upstairs to her office, shooting your friends a look that says, ‘I’m fine’ before she pushes you into the room and kicks the door closed. 

Now she’s scowling down at you, and you’re giving it right back to her, crossing your arms.

“A ‘hello’ would have been preferable.” you snap. Sevika doesn’t flinch or react, sighing before leaning against the door. 

“Why are you here?” she says again, although this time she almost sounds sad. 

Your expression falters only slightly before you reply harshly, “Am I not allowed to be?”

Sevika scoffs, shaking her head, her short hair falling in her face. “You never come to The Last Drop unless I’m with you. You have no interest otherwise—”

You snort, interrupting her. “That was when we were dating,” you clarify, stepping forward and tilting your head slightly to glare up at her. Her eyebrows pull into a concerned arch, her expression softening. She’s looking at you like she’s worried about you, almost making you ease up. Almost. You step closer, examining her. You still cared about her…still loved her, so of course, seeing the subtle bags under her eyes made you wonder if she was taking care of herself. 

“Are you…mad that I’m here?” you ask hesitantly, trying not to fidget with your nails. You were worried; feeling guilty for being so desperate to see her, considering your appearance at The Last Drop had made her look at you like you as if you were a ghost. Now, of course, you were ridiculing yourself for potentially hurting her more by being here. Nevertheless, you were also grappling with the fact that she broke up with you; so did she really have any right to look so distraught at your presence alone? 

She seems surprised at your question, glancing down at your almost-fidgeting fingers, and then it clicks for her; your aloof, irritable demeanor is disingenuous.  A smirk crept onto her face, and you picked up on the upward turn of her mouth. 

You scoff, stepping back away and shaking your head, “Forget I asked—” Now she’s grabbing your arm again. 

“Sweet of you to care, but m’not mad,” she mumbles, “just surprised. Thought I broke your heart,” she clicks her tongue, shaking her head and looking you over. “But clearly you’re doing just fine,” she notes, her eyes lingering on your curves too long. 

“You did break my heart– you insufferable––” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath and rolling your eyes. You let her circle you before raising your eyebrow at her. “You don’t own the place, you know…” you protest, wanting to know what she’s thinking–what her intentions were, trying to coax it out of her. 

Sevika runs her prosthetic fingers over the strap of your dress, tugging it lightly to bring you closer to her, humming, “Interesting choice of words…” She moves to touch your face, and you swat her hand away. 

“Stop flirting; why did you drag me up here? I’m not leaving just because you’re pissed off that I’m —” 

She huffs at you, snapping the strap of your dress back to your skin, “I’m not pissed off, you brat,” she snaps, pushing you back into the door, her prosthetic arm caging you in as she leans against you, her flesh hand gripping your waist to move you slightly, then reaching behind your hip to lock the door. 

You huff back at her action, “and why are you doing that?” you ask, your eyes flicking down to her hand. Sevika laughs mockingly and runs her hand back up your side. 

“Do you want to be interrupted?” she asks, grinning at you. You look at her in disbelief, a laugh escaping you. 

“Oh no, we are not having sex,” you shake your head, “you have lost your mind if you think—” Your words die on your tongue as her hand shoots up to grip your hair, tugging your head back to look at her. 

“Say that again,” she demands lowly “Tell me, ‘we aren’t having sex’ again, and I’ll stop. I’ll stop coming to The Last Drop altogether,” she smirks, watching your eyes flicker, glazing over–briefly–before sharpening back into a glare. 'Stubborn', she thinks to herself. She chuckles at your lack of response, dropping her head to kiss at your throat. Under normal circumstances, this would be enough to make you cave, to let her throw you on her desk and submit to her like she wanted—but now? You were livid, shocked at her audacity— she broke up with you.

“You have lost it.” You hiss, pushing at her with your fists on her chest. Her gray eyes look hurt before she narrows them at you again, grabbing your chin with her prosthetic hand to make you look up at her. 

“Are you truly trying to pretend that you didn’t come here, dolled up how I like you,” she wets her lips as she eyes your dress “in this new little number, hoping to see me?” she goads, challenging you. You push at her again, and she laughs. “Admit it—you’re dressed up for me, you want me back,” she smirks. 

You turn around to try and leave through the door, fed up with her attitude as you fumble with the lock. Then you feel her grab your wrists, pinning you to the door once again, her front now pressed to your back.

“Admit it” she repeats. You shake your head, rolling your eyes, deciding to poke the bear… 

“I have a date tonight,” you snap, looking at her over your shoulder, watching her face fall into anger. It was as if you had knocked the wind out of her; she could not stand hearing that you had a date planned. The thought of someone else, the sheer potential of someone else, looking at you, touching you, kissing you, hearing you moan their name the way you moaned hers— she wanted to choke you for even suggesting that as a possibility; wanted to hold you down and remind you who you belonged to. 

“Cancel it.” She hissed. 

“No—” you snipe back immediately, your eyes flicking to your phone in your bag. 

Sevika followed your eyes, and rage struck through her as she realized you were planning to keep your date. She wasn’t thinking straight at this point, her possessiveness and jealousy pushing her over the edge. She released one of your wrists, whipping you around to face her and reaching to snatch your phone with the other. Her body was trembling from anger as she loomed above you, her dark gaze locking on yours, her expression cold. 

“Cancel your date.” She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument, but it just eggs you on, and now you’re fully committed to pissing her off. 

“Why would I do that?” You ask innocently, your teeth dripping with saliva as you smirk at her. “You’re my ex, Sevika, I don’t have to listen to anything you say,” you sneer. Sevika blinks, shocked at your disobedience, something she was not used to in her relationship with you. 

You take it further, grinning, “What? Are you not used to hearing me tell you no?” you taunt, “maybe you should have thought about that before you—” 

SLAP.

The sound of her flesh hand connecting with your cheek is followed by buzzing silence, and you’re acutely aware of the heat pooling in your tummy. You blink back tears, your widened eyes finding hers again. She’s glaring. 'Oh fuck', you think, your face flushing pink from the sting of her slap. 

“You know better.” she says, rubbing softly at the spot on your cheek she’d smacked. You open your mouth to say something, but she’s shaking her head. Sevika grabs a fistful of your hair in her metal hand and drags you across the room, sweeping your legs up and from under you onto the couch before pushing your face into the worn linen of the cushion. 

“If you won’t cancel your date on your own–” she mumbles, lifting your ass and angrily shoving your dress up around your waist, your dampened panties now on display for her, “I’m going to help you,” she snaps, smirking down at your arousal seeping through the cotton of your underwear. You move to sit up, and she splays her fingers across your back, keeping you down. Sevika sucks her teeth, shaking her head as you hear her move her other hand to un-do her pants. That’s a sound you’re familiar with… 

“Sevika–” you protest with warning before your breath catches at the feel of her tugging your panties to the side; familiar silicone slipping up to nudge your clit. You jolt, your back arching further under her hand on your back. Sevika could not believe you had so casually refused her. She may have been the one to end things, but that was for your own safety; how could you be so oblivious to that rationale? 

It didn’t matter now, though. As far as Sevika was concerned, you were hers, and you apparently needed a reminder that no one else could give you what she could; that no one else was allowed to touch you. Her expression softens as she leans over you, nudging your ear with her nose. 

“Tell me,” she starts, a gentleness in her tone that was agonizingly familiar, “do you want me to stop?” she asks, earning a quick shake of your head as you look back up over your shoulder to meet her gaze. She smirks. “Atta girl,” she murmurs, pecking your cheek.

 “And your pretty face? you okay?” she soothes, letting her lips linger on your cheek until you nod again. Then she’s moving back up and positioning herself behind you. She bites her lip, pleased at the way your thighs spread for her as she begins prodding at you with the tip of her strap. She grunts, her hand on your back moving to dig its nails into the soft flesh of your ass.

“Fuck…” she curses under her breath, squeezing your rear before shifting her grip, opening you more for her as she slowly leans her weight into you, her eyes glued to how your pussy swallows her cock, inch by inch. Sevika’s too mesmerized to register you groaning at first, but when she hears you, she stills, rubbing her thumb over the soft skin of your ass, like she’s contemplating something. Then, suddenly, Sevika leans over you, snapping her hips so that she’s hilted inside of you completely. 

You yelp; panting as your fingers grasp onto the throw pillow your head was propped on. 'Mine', Sevika thinks to herself, pleased with your lack of protest. Sevika was fully convinced that she was the only one allowed to have you, and thinking about the reality that you had actually planned to go on a date—planned on letting someone else even look at you; it was more than she could damn well take. She was angry, jealous, desperate to remind you that you were hers; she slammed her hips into you repeatedly, not giving you an opportunity to adjust to her properly; she couldn’t. She needed you now. 

You whimper, eyes hazy and half-lidded as you look back over your shoulder at her. Sevika smirked, digging her fingers into your hips. Her breathing was becoming more and more dysregulated as she picked your phone back up, thumbing through your messages. She looks at you smugly.

“Do you still want to go on that date?” she asked; a syrupy, taunting sweetness in her tone as she pushed her hips against you in a hard and possessive thrust. You whine, shaking your head, unable to form words. Sevika laughs, leaning down over you again, her body covering your own as her hand tugged at your hair. 

“No?” she growls against your ear, her lips trailing against the side of your jaw “Why the change of heart, hm?” she mocks. 

A breathy, “Just want you, Sev–” leaves your parted lips; your cheeks flush with embarrassment at how easy you were for her. Your gasped confession, combined with the fact that you used her nickname, made her heart rate elevate. She knew exactly how to break you; how to make you submit. 

“What was that?” she whispered against your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she continued to softly pound into you. You groan in embarrassed frustration, struggling to form words. In your blissed-out state, you fail to notice her tabbing over to the contact of the date you had set up, and pressing down on the call button. 

Sevika couldn’t help but smirk as she did so, hearing the line start to ring. It was such a petty thing to do, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of satisfaction she got at the idea of cutting your date short before it even started. She wanted to hear you try to tell your date that you were no longer available. 

The butch remained over you, still thrusting, and held the phone to your ear. Your eyes widen and you try to silence yourself, tucking your head into the throw pillow to muffle your moans. She grinned as she saw your head turn. 

“No,” she said firmly, yanking back on your hair to pull your face out of the pillow. “Don’t you dare hold your voice back, baby.” You freeze when you hear your date’s voice on the other line as they pick up.

“Hello?” they greet, and you bite down on your lip to quiet yourself. Sevika’s smug expression remained plastered on her face as she heard them pick up. She nipped at your opposite ear, whispering to you as your date repeated their greeting, trying to get a response from you. 

“Tell them you can’t go on your date tonight,” she instructs, no longer thrusting into you, only grinding continuously, the tip of her strap rubbing deep inside you, bumping your cervix lewdly. You hesitate, and Sevika tuts, moving the hand that was gripping your hair to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t make me repeat myself—” she hissed, pulling almost entirely out of your cunt before quickly shoving herself back into you, causing you to squeak. You try, you truly try, to keep your tone even as you speak.

“H-hey—” you start, clearing your throat, “I—” 

Sevika is laughing against your ear, her hips slowly picking up pace, wanting to hear you struggle to tell them you couldn’t go. Needing to hear it. She squeezed your throat a little, encouraging you to continue. You swallow thickly, eyes rolling softly before you try to speak again.

“I’m so – ah– M’so sorry—” you stammer out. “I need to raincheck our—our—” 

Sevika chuckles at you struggling, licking the shell of your ear. “What was that, doll? I don’t think your date heard you properly.” She teased, letting go of your throat and running her hand down to palm at your breast. Your cheeks are burning pink, and you struggle to stop yourself from moaning out her name. 

“I’m just— n-not able to go tonight—” you pant through suppressed whimpers. Sevika felt a wave of possessive satisfaction rush through her, her pupils dilating. She was greedy, though, and found herself needing to drive the point home harder. She nibbles at your ear again.

“Who are you canceling this date for?” she demands. You whimper, cheeks hot as you try to avoid her question; you knew what she was doing. She hums, nipping at your earlobe and neck, her lips sloppily sucking at you. “Who? Hm?” she repeats. You couldn’t contain yourself any longer. 

“Sevika—” you moan sweetly, head dropping on the pillow again and eyes fluttering closed as you succumbed to the pleasure she was giving you, knowing your, now canceled-on date had definitely heard your erotic declaration. 

Sevika kissed your ear as she heard the moan you finally let slip after trying desperately to keep your voice in check. She moved her hand to tease at your now swollen clit, causing you to yelp. She put the phone up to her ear, ego-tripping on the way your back was arching to meet her thrusts as she spoke.

“Sorry,” she practically purred into the mic of the cellphone, her tone sardonic. “She won’t be able to make it on that date tonight. Something…came up,” she said as she imagined the confusion on your date’s face at the sound of her voice, but it was all the more satisfying when you whimpered again. She continued to speak, her fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your twitching bundle nerves. 

“Yeah,” Sevika breathes, her own eyes half-lidded now, squeezing harshly on your clit and moaning when you jerk back on her in response, “yeah, she’s quite busy.” 

You’re keening, looking over your shoulder again to pout up at her, your cheeks rosy—embarrassed by the pornographic squelching of your cunt wrapped around her cock.​​ She caught your gaze, her eyes softening at yours as she pressed firmly on your clit again, chiding as she shook her head, her mouth pulling away from the receiver of the phone to direct her words to you. 

“Aww, baby, what’s that pout for, hm?” she coos. “Blushing because they can hear you taking it like the good girl I know you are?” 

Your lip wobbles, overstimulated and flustered; a strained cry passes your lips –“Please—no more—” 

Sevika takes pity on you, and her touch becomes gentle as she puts the phone in front of your face, her thumb hovering over the button to switch to a video call. You shriek and duck your head back into the pillow.

“Ohmygod Sev!” you protest, causing her to laugh and press a kiss to your shoulder before ending the call, tossing the phone aside. 

“Just messin’ with you, princess,” she hums, rubbing her hand soothingly through your hair before gripping at the roots, tugging your face up. “Now,” she sighs, slipping out of you and using her grip on your hair to guide you onto your back. You whimper in protest, feeling painfully empty as you pout up at her.

“What did I say about pouting, hm?” she scolds, tracing your bottom lip with her thumb. You blush under her stare, suddenly self-conscious without the distraction of the phone call. Her lip twitches into a grin as she slips her copper claws under your dress, scratching lightly at the soft fat of your torso. Your eyebrows turn upward, and your eyes close, mouth agape as you try to find words again. Sevika kisses at your jaw.

“Flattered you wore this just for me,” she coos, “but I wanna see you, honey,” she says softly, rubbing her hands up and down your sides before tugging up the hem of your dress. “Arms up, babygirl,” she instructs, slipping it up and off, immediately groaning at the sight of you, bra-less, left only in your underwear before her. Her lips are instantaneously on your neck, hands cupping your chest eagerly. 

“Missed you, baby—” she mutters into your throat. You wanted to deny her, to punish her in some way for ever leaving you in the first place, but you were too far gone, you just wanted to be close to her. Sevika slips your panties off before hiking your legs up around her hips, pressing her forehead to yours as she thrust back into you, moaning softly. Your arms come to wrap around her neck, burying your face into the dip of her shoulder. Sevika hums lowly at you clinging to her.

“M’sorry, angel,” she mumbles into your hair, kissing at your head as she fucks into you. You knew what she meant. She had clearly missed you too. 

“You– better be—” you choke out, your lower lip still puffed out slightly. Sevika moves to hold your throat, rubbing her thumb over your pulse before reaching down to roll one of your peaked nipples between her fingers, her hips snapping to you rhythmically.

“Fuck, baby—” she moans, “taking me so good— so good, angel,” she praises, moving to press two of her organic fingers against your plush lips.

“Open,” she commands. You don’t argue— your mouth parts and she slips her fingers into your mouth. “Suck,” she orders, pinching your other nipple before trailing her hand down between your legs, tapping on your clit several times as she watches you jerk from the stimulation from her prosthetic, the cold metal sending streams of isolated pleasure through you. 

She chuckles, bringing her lips to kiss at your neck—her hips were grinding into you, her thumb was on your clit, her flesh fingers were pumping in and out of your mouth, and you were seeing stars. Sevika sucks on the sensitive skin at the base of your throat, biting harshly, earning a muffled yelp from your full mouth, before laving at the spot with her tongue; soothing you. 

You paw at her shoulders, feeling overstimulated and too close to orgasm to speak, your eyes rolling as you mewl on her fingers. Sevika’s biting turns to kissing on your neck. 

“Close, hm?” she mutters against you, panting as she withdraws her fingers from your mouth, moving her right hand to work at your clit, pinching it suddenly when she pulls her metal digits up to hold you by the back of your head, tilting you so that you’re looking at her.

“You’re mine, understand me, angel?” she says firmly, drinking in the sight of you; disheveled hair, pink cheeks, mouth agape, and dilated pupils. You nod weakly, your back arching sporadically as you feel your orgasm cresting. 

She kisses your lips briefly before letting her head fall to your neck “Come for me, princess,” she encourages. “Need to feel my girl’s pretty pussy come for me,” she coos. 

Her words send you over, a strangled cry leaving your throat as you cling to her, legs trembling as your cunt clenches around her cock, your climax crashing over you; clit throbbing from Sevika’s attention. 

Sevika moans, biting down on your neck to ground herself as she continues to softly rut into you, letting you ride out your release. Her eyes flick up to stare in awe at how your lip trembles as you try to regulate your breathing. Her hips eventually still, and she releases your neck from her teeth, beginning to pepper kisses over your face, bringing both her hands to cup your cheeks. 

“My girl,” she mutters into your skin. You melt into her touch, mind still reeling from the fact that she had canceled your date in such an inflammatory way. She seems to pick up on your thoughts, and she laughs, nuzzling into your neck and sighing. 

“I’m not dumb enough to let you go twice… if you’ll still have me…” she murmurs, sounding much more vulnerable and much less cocky now. You smile, smirking softly as you scratch softly at her scalp. 

“I’ll always have you, Sev,” you reassure her, kissing her forehead. “And for the record…” you start, slyly, as she looks up at you, eyebrows raised.“I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” you say matter-of-factly. She lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head affectionately as she pulls you into another kiss.

[casscainmainly]

Why Duke Thomas Should Be A Dick Grayson Hater

Dick and Duke is such an underrated and underexplored relationship. Here is my pitch for why Duke should be a Dick Grayson hater.

1. The Rooftop Thing

Reason number one and the start of Duke's grudge should be the rooftop incident in Robin War. Dick, as part of his plan or whatever, leads Duke to a roof and abandons him to the cops.

LOOK AT DICK'S SMUG FACE. Tell me you wouldn't hold a grudge too if this was the FIRST major interaction you had with him?? Duke should use this against him at any possible opportunity.

2. ACAB

From We Are Robin #2. Once Duke finds out Dick used to be a cop, it's OVER for him.

3. Jason and Damian

Duke is quite close with Jason and Damian (in my head, particularly Damian - that's his LITTLE BROTHER). Anyway, these two are obsessed with Dick. You have Jason, with his miles-long brother issues that puts Dick on a pedestal, and you have Damian, who thinks Dick is the best person on Earth who can do no wrong. They would talk Duke's ears off about him. Duke would HATE IT.

4. Robin

This panel from Night of the Monster Men sums up quite nicely the difference in the way Dick and Duke approach vigilantism. Duke is the 'idealised' Robin, whose Robin-ing isn't contingent on Batman; Dick is more or less too tied up in Bruce. I think, because the Robin identity means a lot to Duke, having the original Robin be like this would irk Duke a LOT.

5. Tom Taylor

SPOILERS FOR CURRENT NIGHTWING RUN: in Nightwing #116, Dick gets framed for murder and Babs tells him to reveal he's Nightwing to clear him of suspicion. She says Bruce suggested it, and recounts everyone who agreed:

Hm. Is someone missing here? Oh yeah: DUKE. TT probably just forgot Duke, but where's the fun in that? Instead, if Duke is a Dick Grayson hater, you have the funniest scene imaginable. Everyone gathered in the Batcave, laying down their identities for Dick, and Duke is like 'I don't give a damn. He can rot in jail.' and peaces out.

BONUS points if he does this to get back at Dick for reason number 1.

6. Parallels

Duke's origin deliberately mirrors Bruce's, but that means it mirrors Dick's as well. Duke and Dick parallels go insane: they both had loving families, lost both parents at once, were in the foster system (varyingly for Dick but for the purposes of this post I'm gonna include it), were wards/not adopted by Bruce initially, have a huge reverence for family, have a thing about heights, view Robin as separate from Batman, forged their own identities, etc.

Tell me this page doesn't slap:

Anyway Duke would HATE this too. He'd be so annoyed that the person he has the most in common with is Dick, and that would fuel his Dick Grayson haterism.

Dick, on the other hand, has no hard feelings towards Duke. Duke would be glowering at him from the corner of the room and Dick would meet his gaze and be like 'ah Duke is so cute' and smile back. This would make Duke 10000x angrier.

Anyway that's my ideal Dick and Duke dynamic, feel free to add or modify or disagree with anything!!

[cuteandhughesy]

You Were Right There All Along | Mat Barzal

summary: you've been harbouring an embarrassing crush on your best friends brother since the moment you laid eyes on him in the 8th grade. during a drunken game of truth or dare with all your friends, mat finds out your secret. but when things start changing between you and mat, you're unsure how to navigate the new dynamic.

[word count] 4.8k

warnings: best friends older brother! mat | oblivious idiots | drinking | kissing | fluff | generally awkward situations | mature themes and dialogue

a/n: the end of 2024, I put out a poll asking which players you wanted to see my write for (that I haven’t done yet) and mat barzal was a clear winner! it took me a hot minute to figure out what I wanted to do for him, but as soon as I settled on this it was a done deal. hope yall love it 🤭

🎵 stargazing by myles smith, messy by renee rapp, wait for you by jake miller, + sparks fly by taylor swift

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you absentmindedly trace a droplet of condensation, following it's dewy trail as it slowly trickles down your glass bottle of beer.

your friends loud conversation and even louder laughter is all but faded to the background as you fiddle with the bottle in your hands—lost in the smell of the beach still lingering in your air dried hair, and the heat of the bonfire warming your legs from a few feet away.

summer is and always will be your favourite time of year. not necessarily for the overwhelming canadian heat—although, that is a bonus—but rather than for the fact that it's the time of year when everyone gets to be together again.

your friends, who seem to now live all over the place, all come back to toronto for the majority of the summer months every year, without fail. so instead of battling through time changes, uni classes and hockey games, you all rent a place up in muskoka and just be with one another.

the days always consisting of too much sunshine—which inevitably leads to mat getting sunburnt and whining until you're rubbing aloe into his red, crispy skin—sandy toes and the overwhelming smell of chlorine and tanning oil, and nights consisting of s'mores, seltzers and stupid horror movies the guys insist are masterpieces.

it's perfect—and tiring, which means this is the time of night were, combined with three or four beers after a delicious dinner, your vision starts to get a little blurry and you begin curling in on yourself—campfire chair almost buckling in protest.

not that the creaking noises stop you from trying to ball up further though, half tucked under one of the designated bonfire blankets mat keeps in the back seat of his truck.

"truth or dare, y/n?"

liana's half slurred voice pulls you away from your condensation coated beer, and across the fire where your best friend sits, mirroring you position—minus the throw and double the drinks.

she's got an excited glint in her gaze, letting you know that she's enjoying the party game way too much for almost 1 in the morning. but she's not the only one, because most of your friend group is in the same boat.

you take a sharp breath, a playful look of contemplation pulling at your features. shifting slightly in your chair, you wince. "truth?"

liana snorts, "you sound unsure."

"yeah, well after danielle dared austin to chug hot sauce i've been unsure about everything." you physically shiver at the memory of your good friend, and upmost dare devil, turning beat red as the franks red hot coated his throat.

it took him 20 minutes and four glasses of milk to even begin returning to a normal state.

danielle, your other good friend, snickers from behind the rim of her beer next to liana. "okay, dramatic—it was a half a shot." she corrects, shooting you a teasing side eye.

"all the same." you chime, waving dismissively in their direction—lightheartedly and gently, making the two drunk cackle queens almost loose it. and obviously the sound of them laughing gets the group going, because you're all seagulls, truly.

after a giggly beat, liana shushes you between small giggles. "okay, shut up everyone. i'm trying to think."

"god this could take awhile," mat's cheeky remark doesn't go unnoticed by you, half because he's sitting beside you and the other half because he's so far from a whisper that it's almost embarrassing.

but considering one of mat barzal's favourite things in the entire world is annoying his sister, you think his volume level is completely intentional.

"fuck you, mathew." liana spits, her eyes closed and fingers to her temples like she's a physic rather than your best friend trying to conjure up a silly truth or dare question.

the sound of mat's familiar and joyful chuckle has your stomach swirling, your gaze naturally flickering over until you're looking at a sunburnt, eye crinkled smiling mat.

he catches your gaze, and like the cheeky bastard he's always been, mat winks. it's so quick and natural that you almost don't catch it—but who are you kidding? of course you catch it.

because for as long as you can remember, anything your best friends older brother does catches your attention. whether he's simply just walking past you in the barzal childhood house while you're coming back from the bathroom, or throwing popcorn at you from the other end of the couch while liana and his parents aren't looking during movie nights—mat barzal has always been in your head.

it started the day you came home after school with liana—both of you young faced and frizzy hair—and mat was sitting at the kitchen table, homework sprawled out all around him. you remember freezing in the archway, feet stuck to the ground as you stared at a sophomore mat, long grown out hair and braces adorning his face.

you don't remember how long you were caught in the embarrassing, lovey dovey stare, but you do remember the polite smile he sent you, and the elbow liana dug into your ribs to get your attention.

years past and the initial crush you blossomed for mat never dimmed—no, if anything it exploded. for the longest time you couldn't even be close to him without getting flustered, which really wasn't ideal. so with lots of time and practice, you learned to mask it.

which thank god, because otherwise that hot, casually wink would've sent you to an early burial.

your response is lame, because you're just a girl who, although may seem casual about it on the outside, is still freaking out on the inside—you roll your eyes playfully.

it only makes matters worse because mat smirks.

your body flashes with heat. pulling your legs away from your chest, you attempt at crossing your legs underneath the throw blanket, which only gets you tangled in the islanders branded material, before it completely falls to the ground.

before you can even blink, mat is picking up the blanket and covering your legs again. "don't go throwing my precious blanket into the fire now, tater tot." he teases, big hands tucking the blanket between your thigh and the seat. fucking hell.

oh yeah, and of course the torture doesn't just stop there because he's also the only one who calls you tater tot.

tater tot because the very first breakfast you had after a sleepover at the barzal house in 8th grade, you half choked on a tater tot. liana had been too busy snickering and recording your coughing, red face, leaving mat to pat your back until you calmed down.

the most humbling experience of your life, quite possibly.

"thinking about me choking again?" you prompt with a quirked eyebrow, flicking an imaginary piece of lint of the blanket in an attempt to look casual. you look back at mat, "such a perv."

mat takes his bottom lip between his teeth, laughing breathily through the hold. just as he goes to respond, danielle's loud voice echos over the casual conversation of austin and your other friend mark, and the cracking fire.

"oh!" she looks like there's a floating light bulb over her head. "how about..." danielle trails off devilishly, leaning across her navy camp fire chair to cup a hand around lianas ear.

"what?" marcus wheezes, "I feel like that's not allowed."

"technically it is," austin shrugs lazily before taking a slow gulp of his beer, foam sticking to his moustache before he licks it away.

"whatever."

liana gasps loudly, "oh my god, yes!" your best friend, clearly pleased with whatever question danielle has conjured up, sits forward in her chair—looking as if she's trying to bewitch you through the glow of the flames.

you give a half curious, half anxious look as you wait for liana to continue—because of course she paused for dramatic affect.

you already know mat is rolling his eyes at his sisters antics.

"okay, y/n...who did you have a crush on in high school."

the question seems innocent enough to the majority of the group—harmless, even—but you feel like you've just been hit in the head with a damn baseball.

because obviously danielle and liana know about your crush on mat. you can barley keep secrets to save your life, and if you didn't tell someone about the feelings you'd been—still are—harbouring for the eldest barzal sibling, you surely would've imploded.

you're kind of just stuck right now. mouth opening and closing like a fish while your two best friends smirk and laugh across the fire pit.

beside you, mat steals a glance at your side profile, and at the sight of your blank expression, his posture goes ridged. "liana," mat says her name in a warning—in a way that only an older sibling could.

"don't liana me! come on it's a good question." she giggles, a small hiccup following as she falls back into her camping chair, her loose crop top shifting and giving everyone a view of her sparkly belly button piercing.

you can't be mad at her or danielle—or the stupid question, for that matter. you know they're drunk, and they're filter is gone, and they're is no ill intent behind the stupid game. but your heart still pounds and your hands are clamming up like crazy.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to find your words. "it's really not," you half mumble, trying to make your tone as light hearted as possible? as you can feel all your friends curious eyes on you.

mat's eyes on you.

but liana, who is unable to catch the edge to your tone, continues to dig your grave—and this time, coldly shooting you in the process. "y/n, trust me when I say that nobody here cares that you're totally down bad for my brother! just say it."

her words are half slurred and barley audible but it feels like they were screamed from a roof top.

"what did you just say?" mat asks, seeking confirmation to the words that, he too, heard just fine.

but of course he's asking his half way gone sister to repeat herself, because the bomb she just dropped quite literally turned everything on its head.

you don't dare look over at mat. you can't see his face right now, not when you're sure he's in a state of horror while he digests the new elephant in the room—the elephant being your deepest secret, lingering in the air between you all like a pest.

it takes liana one look at your frozen face and tense shoulders for her breath to hitch, falling back into her rickety camp chair again as she realizes what she just blurted out to the entire group.

"wait, fuck my tongue isn't working right," she swallows, guilt lacing her eyes as she blinks hopelessly. "I didn't mean to say that."

the tension lingers in the air, sitting heavy and weaving through the dwindling flames. nobody really knows what to say, especially liana—her sobriety slowly creeping back in as she wallows in further guilt.

you nod in her direction, quick but soft, to let her know that you know you're not mad. fucking mortified and embarrassed, but not mad. you couldn't be. not when it's been the other way around between you both many times—like the time you blurted out that liana had snuck out to meet up with her boyfriend in highschool in front of mat and their mom.

a beat passes before somebody clears their throat awkwardly—austin probably—and then mentions something about roasting spider dogs. it seems to momentarily do the trick, and your friends easily fall back into their usual banter, stabbing raw hot dogs on their wooden sticks to cook.

"i'm gunna grab another drink." you push the throw off your legs, not sparing a glance towards mat as you get off your chair, making the short walk to the sliding back door of the air bnb.

as soon as the door closes behind you, and your left in the silence of the dim kitchen, you cover your face with trembling hands.

"shit," you curse hopelessly, skin burning with embarrassment, "shit, shit, shit."

dragging your hands down your cheeks, you resemble a decaying zombie—hell, you feel like one too. a combination of despair and fear and everything in between sits hot and heavy in your chest, while your best friends playful said words echo through your head.

you didn't look at mat after she practically told him that you're in love with him, for obvious reasons, but you could feel him.

feel the way his spine straightened and his shoulders rolled back in a tense pause. you only picture the way his gaze would’ve narrowed in his sisters direction, plump lips parting in shock as he listened.

he has to be angry, right? or worse, he's not angry but instead he's pitiful.

god, the thought of that is somehow worse, and another curse passes through your lips.

you've got use to living in mat's shadows—or so you thought—keeping your feelings for him buried deep down to not upset the steady stream between you, your best friend and her older brother.

so much hard work from the time you were 13 to now...all for what? for your embarrassing crush to get revealed in a drunken game of truth or dare. a secret that is surely to disrepute the calm of your friendship with mat.

you never wanted messy. and now, here you are.

the door slides open behind you, the sound making you spin on your heels just to see mat enter the kitchen. unfortunately for your already racing heart, mat barzal looks glorious.

his dark hair is at the perfect length to tuck behind his ears, but always falls away because it's not quite long enough. and although he's sunburnt, the colour on his face makes him look beautiful.

he's wearing a pair of board shorts and one of those earth rag sweaters you can buy at carnivals, one that he's given you many times over the years when you're shivering on board walks or sitting on boats without a second thought.

your eyes meet, and you groan, hands falling to your sides in defeat. "oh no, you followed me."

mat walks right up to you, bare feet padding on the tiles because he insists that in the summer he doesn't need shoes—tell that to him everytime you're pulling thorns from the bottom of his foot, which inevitably happens at least once a summer.

his brows draw down towards his nose, like he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth—as if those are the words he can't believe out of everything he's heard tonight.

"of course I followed you," mat says, tone his usual mixture of firm but also toeing the line of playful.

confusion bubbles in your veins, eyes narrowing on his seemingly calm and carefree expression as he looks at you. looking at you how he always does—like your friendship just didn't get pushed off the deep end.

"are you mad?"

mat's furrow deepens, but the faintest ghost of a smile graces his mouth. "why would I be mad?"

your lips part, close, and part again as you attempt to collect your scrambled thoughts. you quickly cross you arms—some kind of defensive attempt that only feels silly, because hello? it's mat—and just as fast they're back at your sides.

and then, the scrambled word vomit ensues in the form of a run on, stuttering sentence, if you can even call the words you're hyperventilating out a scentence. "well—because—did you not hear—I used to—"

mat, ever the steady stone in your life, gently cuts you off, big and warm hands squeezing the meat of your biceps. "slow down," he commands gently, "take a breath."

and like a trained puppy, you do—inhaling sharply through your nose and letting it all out in a shaky exhale through your lips, mat's hands on your body for the entirety of it, which you're chalking up to him just being too kind for his own good.

he nods approvingly, "okay good now, one thing at a time y/n. my minds kind of all over the place here." mat admits with a breezy chuckle, knees bent just enough so he's peering into your eyes.

it makes your knees feel weak.

"your minds all over the place?" you repeat incredulously, "my deepest secret was just spewed out—a secret that very much involves you, by the way—and now i'm totally freaking out."

despite mat's firm grip on your arms, you manage to drag a hand down your face again, a high pitched whine muffled beneath your palm as you do so. after a pause, you look back into his gentle gaze, "i've definitely creeped you out, haven't I? I mean, god this is just the worst."

he shakes his head, "you could never creep me out ."

"well you should be creeped out," you breathe lightly, "hell, you should be scared, mat. seriously this is like stalker level type shit."

"it's not," he laughs.

you gnaw the inside of your cheek, "this is the part were you let me down, right?"

mat takes a deep breath, "y/n."

"oh god...just say it. I've had enough drinks for the guy i've had a crush on since the 8th grade to reject me so I don’t not curl up in a ball and die." you pause, "actually, that may still happen I haven't decided yet-"

"y/n."

the way he says your name has you pausing.

you swallow, throat bobbing anxiously. "mat."

"just....stop rambling and hear me out for a second, okay?"

you groan, fully ready to get rejected and spend the rest of your life pretending it never happened. you can already picture it—mat, happy on his wedding day with some model blonde, while you sit in a meaningless row. watching. single. and very much still in love with your best friends older brother.

regardless, you nod. "okay."

mat's eyes dart all over your face, assessing every single part of your expression. you barley notice the way he's looking at you, not when you can feel his fingers pulsing on your arms.

he licks onto his bottom lip, a hushed curse following suit as mat pulls his arms off your skin.

you want to frown, but you refrain, focusing your attention on mat as he grips the back of his burnt, thick neck. he looks almost distressed? or maybe nervous? and it makes you want to comfort him. god, even on the brink of rejection you still want to coddle the man.

after a beat, mat's hands falls back to his sides, eyes meeting yours once again. he doesn't look anxious for himself, but rather for you—and that only makes you want to spiral.

but then—

"If I was to tell you that i’m in love with you, would that freak you out or could we talk about it?"

you blink.

and blink again.

"I—what—you? are you kidding? I—don't know—mat."

"this feels a lot like you freaking out."

"no! i'm as cool as a cucumber," the way your voice cracks says otherwise.

mat snickers, because he doesn't need your voice to crack for him to know that you're most definitely freaking out. "yeah, okay cause that's so you."

he takes a step impossibly closer to you, toes almost touching yours.

your breath catches, head tilting back so you're able to keep eye contact. "mat..." it's a warning from you, one that says if he's not serious about this, he needs to stop.

but mat doesn't stop. he doubles down.

"I love you, y/n."

you shiver and press a shaky hand to the center of your forehead, attempting to at least ground yourself. "what the actual hell is going on right now?" you mutter to yourself.

"breathe baby."

the pet name slips off mat's tongue so easily that his words have the opposite affect on you—you're so far past trying to breathe that you're on the brink of dying.

"oh my god, i'm going to pass out."

he laughs again, breezy and light. "you're not."

"I'm not sure about that."

mat gently takes ahold of your face, keeping your chin tilted upwards and in his direction. "hey...." he trails off, a playful edge to his tone and a boyish smile pulling at his lips.

you are so confused that you may just die. "hi?"

"I love you."

you swallow thickly, your mouth so dry that it feels like two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together. "yeah, I got that part," you croak.

"you going to say it back? or are you just going to keep babbling like a fish?"

"a fish?! i'm not a fish."

"it's okay," he shrugs, the slightly calloused pad of his thumb gently brushing over your cheekbone—just once, as if he's trying not to startle you. "you're a cute fish."

shuddering a breath and skin heating up under mat's touch, you gently shake your head—perhaps in disbelief, or perhaps obliviousness. regardless, you keep your wide, glassy eyes open, peering up at mat with a combination of doubt and optimism.

"I still can't tell if you're being serious or if this is some kind of weird dare they've put you up to."

"I would never joke about something like this." mat says quickly, voice hard and leaving no room for argument.

but being the worry wart you are, you can't help but to narrow your gaze, a sure look of skepticism crawling across your face. a look that mat clearly registers, because he's letting out a little sigh—one that's not irritated, but rather knowing.

because mat knows you, and he knows you need to hear him say that he loves you without actually saying those three words.

"okay," he starts hopefully, "what if I told you that i've loved you since you used to wear those above the knee plaid shorts when you were 13. and when your hair used to always be in tangles because you didn't like people brushing it. i've loved you since you asked me to peel your orange for you because the smell on your hands drove you up the wall—it still does."

your jaw goes slack, "oh."

"yeah," mat grins, "oh."

even if you didn't realize it back then, your best friends older brother was looking at you—paying attention to you, in a way most people don't. he remembers your clothes, and your hair and your distaste for the smell of citrus.

but it's more than that. it always has been.

it's mat keeping a blanket in the backseat of his truck because you are always cold, and it's him teaching you the perfect way to toast your marshmallow when you were 14 during a camping trip you took with the barzal family—his knee is touching yours and the fire not being the only reason you’re hot.

it's the first day of summer, swimming in the pool with mat while liana fills up a pitcher of lemonade inside when you were 16, and mat tugging on your wet hair playfully.

it's coming home from the bar on your 19th birthday and piling into a car full of your friends, and mat letting you sit on his lap once you noticed that all the seats are taken.

it’s mat always buys your ice cream, and walks on the part of the sidewalk closest to the road—without second thought—and it's him playing your favourite music anytime he's on aux so that he can hear you sing along.

"that long?" you ask tentatively, wringing out your fingers hopelessly in between your bodies  

mat hums, "mhmm hmph."

it's mat crashing your first date with a few of his buddies when you were 15, embarrassing you at the movie theatre until you started tearing up. then immediately feeling bad, and buying you almost one of every treat at the concession stand.

it's mat never approving of your crushes or boyfriends—turning his nose down at them and bumping their shoulders with his roughly on the way by.

it's him warding off every guy at school to stay away from you.

"oh god," you groan, "i'm so stupid."

“you're not stupid.” mat reassures you like it’s second nature. and perhaps it is.

it’s mat making sure that you know it’s your ex-boyfriends loss when they ghost you or leave you stranded at a stupid high school party.

it’s mat who ensures that your skirt isn’t too short, and if some sleaze makes a comment—‘he can fight.’

it’s your best friends older brother who has truly, unarguably loved you all along.

you let out a pathetic laugh, “I should've realized.”

he grins, all boyish and with all his teeth—the sight of that teasing look makes your heart flutter. “you were too infatuated with me to realize.”

“mat!”

he laughs, all loud and proud, head thrown back and exposing the thick column of his throat. “It was soooo obvious by the way,” mat continues to tease once he looks back at you, grin unwavering.

“please,” you beg loosely, eyes fluttering close as you head drops forehead, a lame attempt at hiding from him. “i'm already embarrassed as it is.”

but mat isn’t done—obviously. “always staring at me, and laughing at my shitty jokes. sitting beside me whenever you could.” naturally, he tilts your face back up, giving you a nice view of the admiration swimming in his gaze. “it was so fucking cute. made me wanna kiss you all the time.”

the admission has you feeling shy and flustered, but you don’t back down. not anymore. not when mat barzal is looking back at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars—like you’re the most important thing in his life.

“yeah, well I did all that because I liked when you would tease me, and pinch my leg when you thought no one was looking.”

he nods, once. “I know.”

a beat passes with no words spoken between you. the only thing to be heard is the dull laughter and voices of your friends outside and the consistent humming of the refrigerator in the corner.

you’re still looking at one another, all timid, nervous smiles and loose limbs—glassy eyes for a different reason than tears.

it’s you who breaks the comfortable, belly swooping quiet with a breathy, excited sound. “you're holding my face in your hands! I can't believe this is happening right now.”

mat quirks an eyebrow in question, “this feels like the beginning of another freak out,” he states, “is it another freak out?”

“no.” you say all to quickly.

he grins, “yeah, I think it might be. don't freak out baby-“

“oh my god—baby!”

“it's just me and you,” mat ignores your babble, soothing you with his voice, “nothing has changed.”

“expect that you love me now,” you remind him.

“I told you that i've always loved you, so no, nothings changed—expect now you just know about it.”

it’s then, with those reaffirming words, you realize that you've never been uncomfortable around mat. or scared. or truly embarrassed—not even with this entire situation. because here you are, speaking freely regardless of the circumstances without a second thought. because he's still mat. your mat. never judging or dismissive, and always patient and a listener. and don’t tell liana, but mat barzal is your best friend.

and that, combined with all missed signals and signs from mat, going as far back as you came remember, that you know that he loves you.

and it may of taken you more than a decade to notice—and with a more than a nudge from him—but you’re here now.

“you love me.”

a slow, lazy smirk grows on mat’s face. “I do.”

“I love you.”

“you do.”

“oh my god.” you mutter with disbelief.

“okay, now take a deep breath for me.”

“what? why?”

“because i'm going to kiss you.”

you blink and open and close your mouth like a baby bird—completely taken back, in the best, hottest possible way. “fuck me,” you curse in shock.

“not right now baby.” mat’s sly remark comes instantly, already leaning in, in search of the lips he’s been thinking about kissing since he was 15.

“god, you're such a loser—“

his mouth is on yours before you can even finish your sentence, and you accept the interruption with open arms. your hands catch up before you mind does, moving on their own accord and sliding up mat’s strong chest, over his collarbones until your cupping his neck.

mat smiles against your lips at the feeling of your nails digging into his sunburnt neck, and your tongue easily gliding with his. one of mat’s hands makes home against the back of your head, scratching at your scalp absentmindedly while his other hand drags you closer.

it’s smooth, and easy and perfect.

it’s just you and mat, held together but the same thing that’s always had you drawn to one another.

undeniable love.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i only see daylight

summary: a few months before the Pittfest shooting, Dana calls you to the ED to calm down Dr. Robby, who's had a rough shift. This is a follow up to a fic I’ve already posted, linked below. This is a prequel, so it’s not strictly necessary to read that first! previous wc:  2 k+  a/n:  Please feel free to send any requests my way! Title taken from Daylight by Taylor Swift warnings: general fluff, canon typical stress

A single text from Dana had sent you running for the emergency department doors. ‘Any time to stop by today?’ You did your best not to panic, but she wasn’t one to ask you to come to the hospital without reason to. It was your day off from the bakery, but you’d spent it in the kitchen nonetheless. Batches of banana bread had already been packed in a bag that you planned to pawn off on the next emergency department worker that was sure to stop in the next morning, but there was no reason to wait, emergency or no, so you threw it over your shoulder on the way out the door. 

The walk was short, but stretched out in front of you dauntingly. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you did your best to take steadying breaths in the interest of not needing a bed once you arrived. You’d long ago been given permission to come through the ambulance bay, but it still felt like you were committing a bit of a crime. You smiled at the EMTs waiting in the ambulance bay and made your way to the nurse’s station, finding Donna on the phone with her glasses perched on her head. She spotted you and tucked the phone against her chest. “Hey, doll,” she called, before whoever was on the other end of the receiver demanded her attention. It seemed the emergency could wait a moment or two. 

You snuck into the staff room, depositing a few loaves of banana bread on the counter along with a little note inviting people to take a slice along with a few plates and napkins. It wasn’t uncommon for all of the dishes to be stuck in the sink, so you took it upon yourself to keep some paper plates and things stocked for them, bringing extra with any treats as well. You allowed yourself a small smile before heading back into the fray. 

“He’s on a tear today.” Heather had fallen into step beside you. You peaked at her, not breaking your stride. There was no need to ask who she was talking about, there’s only one doctor you seem to have a special sauce for calming down.

“What provoked him this time?” you ask, clasping your hands in front of you. 

“What makes you think someone provoked him?” she asked, laughing softly. “You are too nice, sometimes.” 

You shrug, unsure how to respond. 

“Thank god you’re here.” Frank falls into step on your other side. “I wasn’t sure Gloria would live to see the end of the day at this rate.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” you sigh, but take his sarcasm as a sign that things are maybe not as calm as you first suspected. “Banana bread in the breakroom.” 

“If I wasn’t already married…” 

“Go before I tell Abby about this.” you laugh, bumping your shoulder against his arm. The threat was empty, just like his flirting. It used to freak you out, but after meeting Abby and seeing the way they worked together, you knew that he was harmless. Some assurance from Michael on the matter hadn’t hurt either. 

He turned on his heel, marching straight for the room you’d just left. “How bad is it?” you asked Heather, searching the central rooms instead of meeting her eyes. 

“He’s been snippy, Gloria’s caught the most of it but he’s…” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “You know how he gets.” 

You nod, knowing that this likely wasn’t an easy day for anyone. You were searching for the right thing to say when a med student appeared at Heather’s side, pulling her away. She gave you a look that said ‘I’m sorry’, but you were quick to give her one that insisted you were okay in return. 

You flopped into a chair on Dana’s right, glad to see that she was off the phone. “What can I do for you, my love?” you ask, turning the chair side to side. 

“He’s finishing up with a patient in Central 7,” she said, not looking up from her tablet. 

“And?” 

“And we both know you’ll calm him right down.” 

“High expectations,” you huff, examining a hangnail you hadn’t noticed until now. 

You felt Dana’s gaze on you before you even looked up. “I tried it all. I fed him, I plied him with coffee and that special creamer you left last week.” you fought down the heat in your cheeks, knowing that you’d been caught. You always insisted the things you left were for no one in particular, and you were a terrible liar. “We ran interference on Gloria but she’s slippery today.” 

For someone who was not employed at this hospital, Gloria was a surprisingly large thorn in your side. She had a way of choosing the most inopportune time to bother your friends, and you were left to pick up the pieces. You heaved a deep breath, steadying yourself for what you needed to do. “I’ll give it my best shot.” 

Dana laid a hand on your shoulder, squeezing firmly. “I know, doll.” 

The curtain to Central 7 thwipped open, revealing your grumpy friend rubbing at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath before shaking his hand, shoving his hands in the pockets of his zip up. You gave him a once over, noting the lines between his brows and the way his shoulders were nearly touching his ears. Gloria really did a number on him. You waited for his gaze to drift your way, not wanting to overwhelm him if he wasn’t ready to talk. You knew how to help but you weren’t keen on making him feel like he had to accept it. 

He stopped to talk to Samira, who was your favorite of the residents, not that you’d ever admit to having one in front of anyone else. After a few moments, she caught your eye over Michael’s shoulder, and her eyes lit up. She offered you a little wave, but Micahel didn’t see, already checking over his shoulder. 

You gave him a sheepish smile, doing your best not to curl in on yourself. He said a few words to Samira, nodding once before making his way to the nurse’s station. He leaned on the opposite side of the counter, shoulders hunching as he leaned on the desk. He gave you a once over, checking you over for signs of sickness or injury, half a byproduct of his job and half because he had a tendency to worry about you more than most. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joke, breaking the silence. 

You can see a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but all you get is a heavy sigh. “I’m fine.” he insisted, voice heavy. 

“Mmhmm. I brought banana bread.” you gestured behind you to the staff lounge. 

He gave you one more once over, another sigh heaving from his chest. You lean forward, resting your chin on your folded hands. You do your best to look innocent, but his eyes narrow and you have to admit you’re losing the battle. “I’m fine,” he insisted. 

“You promised you wouldn’t do that with me.” your voice is soft, a stark contrast to the sounds of the ED that echoed around you. 

His head dropped, forehead resting against his arms. Your fingers twitched at your side, wanting to comfort him in a way that you knew would be more effective, but you were unsure if it would be appropriate at the moment. Probably not a good look for the attending to have his hair smoothed mid shift. After a few moments, he peeked at you, shield slipping just a bit. 

“You don’t have to tell me now, or at all for that matter, but please don’t pretend.” you took a breath, centering yourself. “I’m not going to break.”

You could almost see the thoughts swirling in his head. He’d confessed before that he worries about overwhelming you, or dulling some of your shine if he talks about a particularly bad shift. You didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t spook him. You’d settled on a simple thank you, and the laughter that fought its way out of him had only made your heart warm. 

He nodded, his own deep breathing mirroring your own. You glanced at the clock, glad to see that it was late enough his shift should be ending soon. “Plans later?” He shook his head. “You wanna walk me back?” A nod. You smiled, some of the tension in your chest loosening. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Go finish saving lives.” He smiled, backing away a few steps and nodding again. “No pressure, though!” you called after him, and his laugh washed away the remaining worry. 

“You did good, kid.” Dana said, and you swiveled your chair towards her, unaware that she had been watching. “Thought I was gonna have to send Abbot up after him.” 

Jack had mentioned their trips to the roof so casually, you weren’t sure if he was being serious at first. But when you’d stopped by with a few treats and a coffee with his name on it and found him on the wrong side of the guard rail, your heart stopped. He’d climbed back over the instant he saw you, and you did your best to quell the guilt over him having to comfort you. 

You shook your head, shooing the memory away. “Glad it didn’t come to that.” you say, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Dana caught it, smiling to herself. “Hasn’t in a while, dear.” Her tone implied she wanted to say more, but the charge phone broke the tension and you were saved for a bit. The time passed quickly, a few med students stopping by to complement the banana bread, fielding questions about the fall menu from Princess and Perlah. 

“That bad today, huh?” you looked up from your phone to find Dr. Jack Abbot, backpack slung over his shoulder and a mischievous smirk on his face. 

“It’s been relatively calm since I got here-” 

“He usually is after you show up, long as you’re not too banged up.” There was no humor in his voice.

This time, your face went hot within seconds. It wasn’t a secret that you had a soft spot for Michael, and that he was a bit protective over you. But it wasn’t something either of you talked about. “I, um-” 

“Dr. Abbot, can I get your eyes on this?” you were saved by a med student, iPad in hand. Jack gave you a final once over before lending his full attention to the student. 

You blinked a few times, willing your thoughts to clear. You were stuck for a moment in the middle of the aisle, the sounds of heart monitors and other various equipment making it a bit difficult to think. A rough hand rested softly against your elbow, grounding you. You turned to find Michael, familiar backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You ready?” he asked, eyebrows scrunching together above his nose. 

“If you are!” you said, mustering up some false cheer. 

“And you promised not to do that with me.” You spared him a sheepish look, knowing that you’d been caught. All you can do is nod, and let him lead you out. You waved goodbye to Dana, who was leaving in the opposite direction and did your best to focus on Michael’s hand on the small of your back, warm and sure and grounding. 

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so freaked out?” he asked once you were a few blocks from the hospital. 

“Just something Jack said.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not.” you laughed, although the nerves were still hanging around. “I thought I’d make dinner, if you’re up for it.” 

He laughed, the smile finally reaching his eyes. The little crinkles that appeared when he smiled made your stomach flip, in the most platonic way possible. “You’re a terrible cook.” 

“Fine, you make dinner then.” you huffed. He wasn’t wrong, you could make incredibly complicated french pastries, but cooking was often too freeform for you to really wrap your head around.  

“I ordered a pizza about three minutes before we left, we should beat it home by a couple minutes.” 

You smiled, looping your arm through his and doing your best not to focus too hard on how he’d referred to your place as home. There was time to worry about it later.

[acid-ixx]

— masterlist !

i'm thinking of this one au where it's not really a neglected batfam fic but it's within the timeline of again &. again. a darker fic, where instead of being taken in by the family, you were left to fend for yourself after your mother's death— which basically turned you into a version where you're more traumatized than you are with the awareness that bruce, who was supposed to be your father to take you in, never once came to find you after the incident.

which cues to you following your mother's footsteps: becoming the same wo/maneater. but instead of working in the streets or finding bars to perform and sell your body to— you force yourself to learn to be more promiscuous at an early age, find your mother's old clients, become trained by other criminals associated with her— your mentors aren't the greatest, they only use you to up their customer counts, they don't care about you, whether you cry or not, whether the clothes you wear are too tight or if you're tight in budget to even afford food.

you're exposed to the cruelty of the world at an early age. learn that bluntness, letting go of any empathy for people will be the only thing keeping you alive.

leading to your adult life: you became an underground model. with no known last name, with the reputation of an enchantress. your life is shrouded in mysteries, in conspiracy theories and endless rumors and dirt about your name—

but that doesn't matter, scratch that, your point of view doesn't matter because in this fic idea, i just want to focus mainly on how the batfamily starts becoming obsessed with you. i want to create something inherently focusing on their perspective of it all.

your mystery, your allure, your overall poise and stage presence. maybe bruce once forced himself to watch one of those boring runway performances, and he just sees you and sees himself in you—

which leads to this: one day of finally being able to attend one of bruce's fancy galas, courtesy of a very personal invitation from bruce from backstage. each member of the family manages to have one single interaction with you. any casual talk, any jokes thrown their way, a dance with one, a light, almost hesitant laugh to another— colored contacts hiding the ugly dimness which in turn piques tim's interest, makes him want to dissect your thoughts.

like, i don't know if i'm formulating my thoughts coherently enough for this concept to be entertained. but to sum it all up, just imagine those shows where it's told through a perspective of multiple people focusing on one cryptid, on a case long unsolved, a creature which holds no known record to human history— and soon those people's lives become revolved around that one mystery, consumed by familiarity at most.

because you are part of their family, none of them ever knew until the very end. think of that horrendous tom taylor plot twist within the nightwing run where there's this one girl who confessed being dick's long lost sister— now imagine you actively trying your best to stay unknown to them, long since given up through idolizing them through broken tv screens and focusing on yourself instead. you're well aware they're up to something, that they're pinning their curiosity onto you—

cue to me telling alexa to play anxiety by doechii, where like i said: not one thing is revealed about your thoughts unlike in the original a&a series, but rather me writing a series of everyone else's personal thoughts on you and how they each spiral into straight up obsession and the need to keep you for themselves despite never knowing why really.

because in their eyes, you've always been just a model who randomly piqued their attention. they never knew that you were always connected to them from the start— not until the very end at least.

any thoughts on this idea or do i scrap it?

just send in a comment or an ask because i'm in a writing crunch hehe.

[practistyles]

everyone wants him (pt 1)

in which Harry is obsessed with Y/N but she doesn't want anyone to know about them and for good reason

In this part: popular college football star Harry, fluff, Harry being cute & obsessed w Y/N, no warnings i think!

Inspirations: “Slut!” (Taylor’s Version) [From The Vault] by Taylor Swift, Teenage Dirtbag by @freedomfireflies, that nick and priyanka moment when he pulls her chair

1.6k words

Y/N's textbook disappeared from under her bent over head just as suddenly as she felt her chair being nudged. She gasped, then looked up. And his face in front of her  - it just made sense. Of course it was Harry. She always chose the quietest, most remote place in the library, but he always managed to find her. 

Harry morphed his face into one of fake thoughtfulness as he stared at her textbook. “So, Y/N, true or false? A consistent heuristic is always admissible.”

Y/N groaned. “I would be able to tell you if you would just stop interrupting my studying.” 

He lowered the book and looked right at her. He was still a bit sweaty, which meant he was off doing some football thing. 

“You like when I interrupt your studying,” he said, his grin returning and Y/N felt her own face betray her by breaking into a smile. 

“I do not. I’m seriously going to fail my exams.”

He pulled the chair beside hers and collapsed into it. “You are not. You’re gonna ace the exam.”

“How do you know? Have you seen the paper?” Y/N retorted. 

Harry placed the book back in front of her and rested his chin on his palm. “No, but I’ve seen you. It’s gonna go great.”

Y/N smiled at his compliment. “How was football?”

“Boring. Missed you.” 

“Oh? Did you miss my obnoxiously loud cheering or my incredibly helpful tips on kicking technique?”

Harry chuckled. “You have no idea how it works, do you? No one cheers in practice.”

Y/N shrugged. "Maybe they should. Might help you kick the ball better."

Harry’s mouth tugged at the corner. “Come here,” he said, gentler than before, and reached forward to drag her chair closer to him. He lifted a hand up to her face, carefully cradling her jaw, making her eyes meet his. 

“That’s better,” he said, and leaned forward, lips pressing at the corner of her mouth. 

Y/N smiled, her hands reaching up to rest on his waist. “You really did miss me, huh?”

She felt his breath on her neck. “Always, Y/N.” 

Y/N felt warm and bubbly inside. These days, Harry seemed to get more and more… needy. There was no other word for it. He kept finding her at random moments in the day, he kept saying how much he missed her everytime they weren’t together. She never felt the way she did when she was with Harry. In the two months they’d started this, he’d more than proved to her that he was sincere, but everytime he was even slightly affectionate Y/N felt her defenses go up. His touches and his affection made her incredibly giddy, but it also made her feel guilty. And sad. And terrified. 

Two months ago, when she’d let this wonderful, talented, golden boy kiss her, she’d made him promise no one could find out about them. About her. And at first Harry seemed to understand, he almost agreed. His teammates were assholes, Y/N’s classmates were huge gossips, and she honestly just thought he was too good for her. This is what she’d believed: she was easy and lonely, he was bored and famous. No cared about her, everyone cared about him. 

But she didn’t think that was true anymore. Or at least, most times she didn’t. Harry was wonderful to her. Sometime it almost felt like she was hurting him by not letting him be with her around other people. But she was scared that once they let it out, he would realise what he was actually missing out on, all the other wonderful people he could be spending time with instead of this girl whom he made his entire day revolve around. 

There was a rustle behind them and Y/N suddenly remembered where they were. Who she was. She pulled away suddenly. Her cheeks reddened and she tried to subtly  glanced around. She felt Harry gently squeeze her fingers where they were intertwined with his, and as she turned back to him the look on his face was slightly worried. 

“Sorry,” Y/N murmured, “for being so paranoid. I just - ”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry replied. “I understand. It would be absolutely shameful for you to be seen with me.”

Y/N’s jaw fell open, but then she saw the look on Harry’s face, his wide grin, crinkles near his eyes, and she swatted his arm. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he said, and pulled his chair out to stand. “I need to go shower and then head to class.”

Y/N nodded. “I need to study the shit out of this textbook.”

“Don’t worry your pretty self too much.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Y/N nodded and watched him walk away. She couldn’t focus on any studying for a while after he’d left. 

****

At night, his call was unexpected. Y/N was at her table, stress clouding her mind, considering just going to bed and going over the material she was trying to revise in the morning. When her phone rang, she groaned, because the last thing she wanted to do was speak to someone. 

Except the person who’d actually phoned her. Just his name on her phone had improved her mood entirely. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Y/N,” Harry’s voice came from the other end, slightly grainy due to the terrible service on campus, but she could hear his smile through it. 

“You good?” she asked. 

“Now I am,” he said, and she swore her insides fluttered. “Were you about to sleep?” he asked.

“No, not really.”

“Okay so listen, I was thinking if you’d be up for something.”

Y/N plopped down on her bed. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Harry cleared his throat at the other end. “There’s this game next weekend. It’s here as well, and super important. You probably don’t want to know about the leagues stuff, but if we win we could get into the finals for the next season.”

Y/N felt her heart lurch. She knew where this was going. “Okay, and?”

“And, there is this after party later.”

“Right.”

“Which I would have to attend.”

“Because it would be for the team in which you play, yes.”

“And also because we would win.”

“Oh? How do you know you’ll win?”

“If you will come to the party with me, I’ll win it.”

Y/N was silent. She knew what her answer was gonna be, but she didn’t know how she would make him accept it. 

“Harry…” she started, her voice already lacking conviction. 

“Okay, listen, I know. I know,” Harry scrambled in the aftermath of her reply. “I get it, Y/N. But think about it - it’s gonna be a huge party, no one is really going to care about us. And I really want my friends to know you. My life would be so much simpler if I could talk about you to my friends. Because I always want to fucking talk about you. I feel like I need to keep it in all the time.”

Y/N smiled sadly. She imagined Harry lying on his back with his arms folded beneath his head, phone lying next to him on the pillow. Or on his side, phone clutched in both hands, expectantly waiting for her to say yes. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said. 

He sighed at the other end. “Whatever you’re worried about Y/N, I’m not going to let it happen,”

“I don’t - It’s just  - we both know everyone is gonna be confused seeing us together and I just don’t want to -”

“We don’t even have to be together!” Harry said, excitedly. “I mean, if you just came, we could just stay apart. Can’t promise I’ll be able to, though. But we could sneak around and no one has to see. I would just love it if you came.”

Y/N felt  a little ache in her bones. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I want,” Harry said. 

The entire night Y/N kind of tossed and turned around in her bed. She could never really explain to herself fully why she was so paranoid about them. Y/N felt like she had been stringing Harry along, even though they both knew that wasn’t really true. 

She was just simply scared of a repeat of last year, which she thought was a very valid fear. She never really spoke to anyone about it except her parents. Y/N shuddered at the small flashbacks she got. She wondered if all of Harry’s teammates still remembered. And how had Harry never even known about her? She had become a private joke for them. They way she’d let Jacob treat her… Y/N had sworn to never let it happen again. And now she was putting herself in that exact situation.

****

The next day, she met Harry in the parking lot outside the cafe.

"What are you doing next weekend?" he had a smug grin on his face and Y/N just knew he was not going to take no as an answer. She had to just get through it.

"I have no plans yet. Are you proposing something?"

He turned her away from the side of the cafe and put his arms around her waist, drawing her close.

"What if I am? Will you say yes?"

Y/N's eyebrows raised. "Propose first."

Harry stepped away from her and got down on one knee. Y/N feigned surprise, hands flying up to cover her mouth.

"My darling Y/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and come to the afterparty with me, but kind of not with me, on Saturday? "

Y/N couldn't help but beam down at his honest, beautiful face even as everything inside her still remembered the horrible feelings she had felt.

"Yes, Harry. Yes, I will."

****

omg omg omg my first post ever. i am so excited for pt 2 hopefully i can actually write it soon. i have no idea how to do this but i really wanted to start!

also, read the second part to this here !

[bright-molina]

fearless

tyler owens x reader synopsis: tyler comes home to find you not pleased whatsoever with his latest tornado wrangling trip warnings: none! although it is not edited, that's a later problem a/n: I NEED HIM IN A WAY THAT IS CONCERNING TO FEMINISM (this is my way of asking everyone to pretty please send me requests i literally cannot get him off of my mind its fine) song rec: fearless by taylor swift, it belongs to him actually

Tyler knows something is wrong when you stay standing on the porch, not moving a single muscle. You just stare at him silently, arms crossed tightly in front of you, as he gets out of his truck. He doesn’t move either, so used to the way you always sprint to him in a whirlwind the second his feet touch the ground.

Finally, he opens his arms and flashes you a smile and there’s a look on his face so soft it’s practically a silent plea for you to come to him. “Hi, baby.”

You don’t move. Not then, not when he drops his arms and pouts, and not even when he walks towards you instead declaring how much he missed you. You simply keep staring at him as he closes the distance, finally stepping onto the bottom step of the weather beaten porch.

You’re nearly his height like this and it’s incredibly easy for Tyler to uncross your arms, take your hands, and pull them around his neck. He in turn wraps his own around your waist and pulls you in close, breathing you in for just a moment.

“I missed you.” He repeats, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair on instinct and he sighs, a little bit in relief and a little bit content with the feeling.

“You’re an idiot, Tyler Owens,” you tell him after a moment as you press a kiss to his shoulder and pull him in a little tighter.

Tyler knows you missed him too when you say it. You kiss him again, on his cheek this time, as he starts pulling away and tells you, “I know.”

You don’t look away from him. Your eyes scan his face as your hands slip from around him to hold it in your hands, gently tipping his head side to side to take him in completely. There’s an already healing cut on his cheek and you trace your fingers over it softly. The memory of the video playing on the screen of your laptop is clear and your breath hitches a little bit in the same way it did then.

And Tyler sees it all. He doesn’t quite know what he agreed to being an idiot about but he’s sure you're right. He can see the fear lingering in your eyes, can feel the gentle way you touch him, silently testing to see if he’s really there. His hand comes up to lay on top of yours for a second before he takes it and kisses the back of it, green blue eyes never leaving yours as he does so.

You hear the soft patter of the rain start again before you can scold him some more and one glance behind him confirms the sight you knew you’d find. It’s falling gently, barely making a noise as it hits the ground outside the comfort of your covered porch. Tyler notices it too, letting his head tip backwards a bit to get a good look at the heavy storm clouds passing over.

When he turns back to you he has a wicked grin on his face and your eyes go wide. You forget every single fear, every worry, every bit of leftover irritation and anger. It all falls away and you try to hide the bubble of excitement that flutters deep inside you as you make a halfhearted effort to plant your feet in place.

“Tyler, no,” You shake your head as you feel his hands slip into yours. He takes a step back and one small tug has you falling forward and onto the step he’d just been standing on. “I’m trying to be mad at you, you can’t drag me out here!”

“Yes I can,” He takes another step and pulls you with him, both of you now standing in the rain already starting to fall a little faster. He drops your hands and takes a couple steps back, hoping you’d follow him further into it. “I just did.”

“This is my best dress, it's gonna get soaked if the rain picks up.”

“Well then I guess you’ll just have to let me take it off you when we go inside, won’t we?” Tyler’s smile softens and he holds out one of his hands again. “C’mon sweetheart, dance with me.”

He jumps forward suddenly, right into a puddle already forming, and the water splashes all over you. Your laugh rings out clear all around him and he thinks nothing in the world could be better than this moment right here with you.

You take his hand and he immediately spins you once and you swear you’ve never felt more content than in that moment. Head tipped back to look at the sky, rain already quickly soaking you to the bone, Tyler holding on to you tightly. There’s a deep rumble that echoes through the world around you as thunder sounds off in the distance. It doesn’t scare you in the slightest.

The rain keeps falling, keeps picking up the longer you and Tyler stay underneath it. You keep dancing, alone and together, keep kicking the water from the puddles at each other and keep laughing together like nothing was ever wrong.

Eventually the rain starts slowing down again and the song playing in Tyler’s head seems to end. He takes your hand one more time, twirling you underneath his arm again before spinning you into him and catching you with ease. One of his arms falls around your waist and dips you back while the other keeps holding your hand in his own.

A moment passes where he looks for any kind of uncertainty in your eyes. Any sign that something might really be wrong. He looks for hesitation in you but he doesn’t find any. The longer he keeps looking at you with that look, so concerned and caring and full of so much love, the dizzier you get. He’s so close and he could kiss you at any second and it’s all you’ve been craving since the moment he left and the butterflies in your stomach are getting harder to control and he was gone but he’s here now and he’s safe.

And you sigh a little bit. You don’t move. “I watched your live stream when you were out there.”

Tyler understands everything in that moment. He understands why you were upset with him and knows why you didn’t jump into his arms and why you’re looking at him the way you are now, still a little bit scared through the relief.

That’s when he kisses you. He kisses you long and slow and deep enough to make you let out one of those little noises he loves pulling from you so much. It grounds you, he knows by the way you grip onto his shirt a little tighter. You pull back first and stare at him again. He drops your hand and instead puts his own on the small of your back, tugging you even closer. Close enough that the two of you start leaving your mark on the rain, the shadows of it starting to morph to fit around you.

“You promised me you’d stay safe.”

“And I was,” Tyler brushes loose strands of your hair, now wet and sticking to you, back behind your ear and tries to offer you a reassuring look. “For the most part. I tried the hardest I could.”

You shake your head immediately and resist the urge to step back from him. “That’s not good enough, Ty.”

“We just,” He hears the words you don’t say loud and clear. I need you. Here. With me. He’s at a loss for a second, realizing that maybe it was always like this when he was gone. Maybe you always worried and just didn’t always show it. “We weren’t expecting it to get bigger, that’s all that happened.”

“Tyler,” You shake him a little bit, bringing him out of his own thoughts with another kiss. The need to feel him as much as he always said he needed to feel you while he was gone became overwhelming. “I saw your truck flip over. You got hurt and it could’ve been a lot worse than it was”

“Some loose debris knocked us out of place, I’m okay, sweetheart,” Tyler tries offering you a smile to prove his point but it doesn’t work. So instead he loosens his hold on you, twirling you in the rain one more time before placing his hat right on top of your head as he pulls you in again. He laughs at the look you’re wearing, unamused as the raindrops trail down your face as you look up at him.

The sound of his laugh echoing around you louder than the rain and thunder, pulls a smile from you again. “You make it really hard to stay angry at you, did you know that?”

“It’s cause you love me so much.”

“I don’t know why I do,” You can feel the fabric of the dress you’d put on, Tyler’s favorite that you had very much chosen on purpose, sticking to you now. One look at the clouds above you tells you the rain has no intention of stopping any time soon. “Can we go inside now or did you want to stay out here all day long?”

“You know I’d stay anywhere with you, sweetheart.”

“Of course you would,” The smile stays on your face as you roll your eyes at him, finally unraveling yourself from his hold on you. “Well I’m going inside, your choice whether you wanna follow or keep playing in the rain.”

“Wait,” Tyler stops you before you can turn around completely. He reaches for your hand and pulls you back abruptly, kissing you again before you can get another word about. It’s heavier this time as his lips move against yours. Filled with a need so intense he thinks it’ll consume him and burn the rain right off his body. He keeps kissing you until he can’t breathe anymore and when he pulls away his head drops to rest his forehead against yours, eyes wide open and staring directly at you so you hear his words. “I also promised I’d always come home to you, didn’t I?”

Your words sound as breathless as you feel. “You did.”

One more kiss, a way to plant the words he’s saying to you firmly into place. “I haven’t broken that promise yet and I have no intention of ever doing so.”

Just like that you believe him. Every single fear left over in your body from the last few days slips away. There’s nothing left there but you and Tyler and the knowledge you have that he’s always gonna be right there at your side. He’s wild and fearless and too smart for his own good. He dances with you in the middle of storms and makes you worry sometimes when he drives right into them but you watch every trip he takes without fail and every single time he comes home to you.

And you really don’t know how it could get any better than this.

tagging: @nerdalicios

[theoccultz]

How does your lover see's you ?

Inspired by love hangover ❤️‍🔥

Intuition based reading

Not gender specific , anyone can read this

This is for anyone who's manifesting/ manifested a person , you can also see this as how they would perceive you (:

Timeless reading

Pics and headers not mine credits to their rightful original owners

Pile A. Pile B . Pile C .

Pile l .

....Oh I need no cure , I have got the sweetest hangover 💋

They see you as very playful , you give off a gemini venus vibe , very innocent, unpredictable and childlike , everybody loves to be around you , you might be a very quiet person but in their presence you just feel very comfortable to be yourself, you may tell them random facts and they love to hear about it lol , you are very random & unpredictable in their eyes , it's like if this person calls you in the middle of the night you would not be in your usual spot 😭what I meant to say is instead of being in a bed you would be sketching, sewing or on a beach taking a walk ... your energy is very uplifting for them , you are one of those people whose absence is felt , I'm getting you are very optimistic ...you don't stress about little stuffs , if your friend is crying you will cheer em up , they don't see you as very demanding, they see you as very fulfilled and comfortable within your own energy , they think your self esteem is much better than half of the people on earth , they also love your dressing sense they think you look comfortable in whatever you wear ...you make everything look extra expensive and beautiful .

They think you are a person with a lot of different interests , you are that person who will participate in a singing competition even if you don't sing like idk taylor swift you just want the experience you want to try , they think people love you or get attracted to you easily or you make friends easily even if you don't feel like it , this person feels very lucky to have you in their life they think sometimes they can't show you the love you deserve, they also love your body specially your chest area , they think you sacrifice a lot for the people you love , they see you as family oriented, yeah this person is glad that you are very different from them (: they appreciate it a lot .

Extra : glasses , scuba diving, beaches , pets , car , foreign , cinema , astrology, graphic designer, history lover , marvels .

Chanelled song :

Thank you for reading 🦋

Pile ll .

💋I don't really mind when you play me , wanna switch it up & go crazy ...

Your energy is so intense and infectious, I wanted to move on to your reading anyways don't tell pile 1 , your person is very happy they feel like they have manifested you , your person is very possessive over you they get jealous very easily but they don't show it , aww this person is in pain lmao anyways back to you ..

They feel like you are a very empathetic person , they think you have a lot of patience in dealing with things n people, they think you have dealt with invasive people with a lot of integrity and grace , yeah they see you as very proper and graceful idc if you are a messy eater they still find you very pretty , they love your height difference , you guys may be the unexpected couple like you guys may look different they may look like an anime lover boy/girl and you may look like idk a fairytale lover/boy so there's this difference they adore , they think you guys are very compatible you guys have been through ups and downs in this relationship, they respect you a lot , they think you can handle them for some reason they also feel very regretful umm idk what happened or why they feel that way you would know better , yeah this person is very thirsty for your love pls don't mind me guys it's not me I'm chanelling 🙂‍↕️✋🏽This person has this energy of worshipping you they feel on top of the world , they feel very happy that you are their person , you guys may have different astrological placements that creates ruckus sometimes but it's still a very passionate connection n chemistry that you guys share , hmm other people can really feel their love intensity towards you and it kinds of concerns them like why is this person so possesive? So annoying...but yeah this person is just intense when they are in love they may act out of character. This person also feels very much on edge like uhh where are they ? Have they arrived safely blah blah n stuff , it might irritate you at times as well .

Instead of how this person see's you I picked up a lot on how you make them feel , they are feeling a lot pile two🙃 (: you are their number one person for sure they prioritise you like crazy , this person keeps an eye on you for sure , they need to be updated about your life , how your day went , do you like white sugar or brown sugar in your latte etc ... You are kind of lucky pile 2 this person will go above n beyond for you , they are not disgusted by anything related to you like they are not ashamed about anything related to you , idc if you're insecure I don't see it so you shouldn't care ahh so cheesy ...*it's not me guys trust me my cap stellium is screaming* Do you guys look similar in some way I'm seeing that couple who look alike after sometime lol like morph effect or Smth + this person throat chakra needs some healing or maybe you are sick , so how do you manifest such a cute person drop your tips guys we are jealous 🙂‍↔️🫴🏽

Extra : Paintings , red horse , pikachu , table /coffee /books , indoor dates , plants , corset , broken watch ,brown mirror, tarot , religious ,spanish , late night show , insta login , butter .

Chanelled song :

Thanks for reading 🦋

Pile lll.

💋And every time I do , I wake up with this love hangover....

Ahh my high vibrational people, nobody can get under your skin you will step on their throat if they involve you in any stupid drama , this person is extremelyyy attracted to your fire , they haven't seen or met anyone like you , they really love your independence, are you a law student? anyways they think of you as someone who's intelligent as fuck , they feel like they won't be able to move on from you if they loose you like you guys have so many options , you can get anyone blah blah blah ....You guys are very attractive and you know it *yassss * like you can put them in their place and they would love it , you would step on them and they would thank you lmao 😭✋🏽if you feel like you are too much , you have too much opinion , you dress up too much dw they love it infact they like that about you , they love a person with OPINIONS they love how you are not submissive but understanding they love your raw nature helppp * it's not me guys I'm chanelling* first of all this person thinks you have that jaw dropping sexual appeal like they don't mind being on their knees for you ,they can't tame you infact nobody can and they love that , you guys are very secure & confident like nahh ahh you are not that person who will stick with stupid fucks they are your past not your present ahh who is this divaaa *sorry guys * I love your energy like your energy speaks for itself, you guys have this moon energy you have this mystery that intrigues others , you are so giving but you are not stupid either you have that perfect balance , you guys are always changing always transforming yourself into a better version ,your lover see's you as very inspirational and addictive.

You guys don't need extra confirmation messages this is your pile for sure .

*That was a dramatic full stop btw ....guess what a fire cracker went off outside of my apartment lmao they love this high energy , they can't attain this with dr!!gss at all Also if you guys are not college student that's fine they feel like a teenager with butterflies in their stomach anywaysss *

I have never channeled like this pile 3 don't judge me , if you send them selfies throughout the day randomly they kick their feet under the desk yess I exposed them or you should why won't you ??? They want it lol

My heart was beating extra full speed while channeling your message guys they're nervous lol

Chanelled song :

Thanks for reading 🦋

[writingforrhys]

i can see you

eris vanserra x reader contents: listened to speak now TV (its been 2 years since i started this someone arrest me) and had this fic appear in my head like a fuckin vision. pls pls PLS if you ever do anything i say, make sure it's listening to "i can see you" by taylor swift on repeat while you read this. forbidden love ;) ...or just a really forbidden hook up. also slight unrequited az x reader? i literally didn't intend for that to happen

p.s i think this is a bit of an au? this is before utm and eris defo did not have this kind of relationship with the inner circle yet and velaris was a secret 💀 so just take it with a pinch of salt LMAO

word count: 5.9k warnings: pure smut my friends ;) this is also my first time writing for eris so please be kind 😣

masterlist

You brush past me in the hallway And you don't think I can see you, do you?

If there was anywhere in the world you didn't want to be right now, it was certainly this meeting between the High Lords of Prythian. Your feet ached and your eyes drooped standing behind Rhysand's chair alongside Azriel.

You typically enjoyed your trips to the Day Court. Helion was someone you considered a close friend and you always found your way to his extensive libraries when you visited, holing yourself up and breathing in knowledge until your eyes became red.

But right now, even as the light streamed in through the chiffon curtains hanging over the tall windows and the cool breeze kissed upon your neck, you just wanted to go home. It was Rhys you cursed, recalling his insistence on your presence at the meeting.

"I need Az to keep people in check and you to keep me sane", you remembered he'd said. You'd only rolled your eyes.

They'd been fighting for hours now. Just as six began to agree upon a solution, one would have an issue. Hours upon hours of snide remarks and magic thrown and egos bruised left you fatigued and downright moody.

A scarred hand falling upon your shoulder tugged you out of your stupor and you looked up to find Azriel with a gentle smile on his face.

"Time to go, love."

A beam lit up your face, and a relieved breath left your lips, "It's over?"

"It's over," Azriel chuckled, "Helion thought we should probably call it while they're all still alive."

"Oh, thank the Gods," You began to lead Azriel to where you could see Rhys now talking with Kallias and Viviane, "Not because I care a great deal about their mortality - I just, I really need a bed."

He chuckled again.

You bid Kallias and Viviane a quick hello and a goodbye rolled into one before turning to Rhys for permission to excuse yourself. He gave you a small smile and a touch to your shoulder; a promise that he'd be by later to check on you. Where your Rhys would usually part with a kiss to your head and a hug goodnight, he had been replaced with the High Lord of the Night Court instead. You didn't mind too much, especially not with the way every muscle in your body was screaming at you for a hot bath and a rest.

You could've skipped through the winding hallway, body thrumming with excitement at the idea of finally getting off of your feet. Your euphoria appeared troublesome soon enough, as your quick paces almost sent you hurtling into a flash of reds and browns.

You manoeuvred your body quick enough to avoid any disastrous collisions, yet your efforts were in vain as the front of your torso brushed completely upon another's.

You turned around, prepared to send an apology through the hall, but only found yourself startled as Eris Vanserra stood before you. Well, he didn't really stand. Actually, he didn't even bother to halt his movements at all. The male simply threw his head over his shoulder, gave you one long look straight from your head to your feet, and then up again, and set off with a smirk cast your way.

You prayed that your bath would wash away the lick of fire that spread through you.

I've been watching you for ages and I spend my time trying not to feel it But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

"Vanserra."

He smirked, "L/N."

"You know, I'm surprised you agreed to this at all - and I'm even more surprised that Mor hasn't torn your head from your body yet."

Rhys had pulled you into his office a week prior, warning you of his intention to invite Eris to your family dinner. Considering you were his advisor, he really should've been asking you, but he had made his mind up about appearances and alliances and it had made it very difficult to disagree with him.

You wanted to disagree with him, truly. Yet, that little part of you - that flame - became so hard to ignore when Rhysand had said the Autumn Lord's name. Perhaps it was uncouth of you to pretend to begrudgingly agree to his proposal, when you'd later returned to your bedchambers and snuck a hand between your legs at the thought of seeing Eris again.

You stood in the dining room with him now, watching intently as his lips turned up with the exhale he let out at your comment.

"How could I turn down such a thrilling invitation?"

You busied yourself with pouring yourself another drink to distract from the laugh that wanted to make its way out of your body. The heat that flooded your cheeks at his crooning tone.

"You owe me an apology, by the way."

"Oh?"

You turned your body to face his again, "In the hallway at Day, fireling."

Save for the small, upturned quirk of his lips, nothing about Eris' body language denoted pleasure in conversing with you. You'd noticed that about him - his surefire ability to never reveal his hand. You'd noticed the air of arrogance he carried with him and how it perfectly covered any tells you had been trying to find about the male for months.

"And what, exactly, am I apologising for?" He said.

"You didn't stop yourself after you bludgeoned into me, so I'm sure now is a more appropriate time for you."

Hands in his pockets, Eris let out an amused huff and leant against the dining table, "It is with my sincerest regrets that I apologise for walking through the same hall as you."

"Very quick witted, Vanserra. Do you treat every female this way?"

"Only the special ones."

It was shameful how quickly your cheeks burned. He was teasing, he wasn't serious. He was flirting with you to gain the upper hand on your court and here you were, blushing like a schoolgirl.

You recovered as quickly as you could. You tried to be subtle about the clearing of your throat and the cool hand you laid upon your face, however, it was most likely in vain. Eris could be very perceptive.

"I daren't think about how you treat the rest of them." You tried to be brave now and look at him - you quickly regretted it. You'd forgotten how handsome he was.

"Certainly not as well as I'd treat you."

Your mouth bobbed open for some reply, you weren't sure what it was going to be, and then a glass rang out somewhere in the hall. You turned to find your family all starting to gather at the table, slight grimaces and glares being sent toward your conversing with Eris.

You'd been saved this time, thank the Mother, but your luck was sure to run out soon.

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall for me And I can see you up against the wall with me What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I could see you

Dinner was tense.

The Vanserra male was incredible at antagonising your family. To your luck, he'd been sat opposite you at the dining table. To your chagrin, Cassian and Azriel had both chosen to flank you at the table. Not a coincidence, you were sure.

You knew that Eris had made some comment, you weren't sure what, (you were much more entertained with admiring the way his throat bobbed every time he took a sip of his wine), but it had made Mor storm out of the room.

You really, really wanted to care. You knew that this was wrong. To not give even one flying fuck about your lifelong friend's emotional turmoil at the hands of this male. But you couldn't breathe.

Not with the way he was now grinning down at his own plate, fire glinting in his eyes, cutting up his piece of steak as if oblivious to everyone's wrathful stares. With the way he leaned back in his chair, wiped his mouth with the cloth, and made unwavering eye contact with Rhysand as his foot touched yours underneath the table.

Your breath was stuck in your throat, your face warming and your hands trembling.

"If you'll excuse me." You mumbled, standing from your chair.

Your family watched you rise, and three pitying glances were sent your way. They assumed that Eris' presence was grating upon you - that Mor's upset was making you upset. They assumed that you were going to check on her; their dearest, kind-hearted Y/N.

But Eris watched.

He watched as you fled the room, smoothing your skirt and clearing your throat, and then watched you walking left down the hallway.

...He had just seen Mor turn right.

Eris kept eating. He tried not to think about your absence, but how could he ignore it? The Illyrian brutes certainly weren't as enticing and the thought of seeing either of them in a state of undress made him want to bring his dinner back up.

The male stared at the dining chair in front of him and couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. He let himself grow hotter at the memory of the dress you were wearing - the way your breasts were so perfectly exposed atop the bodice. He recalled how delicately your hair cascaded down your back, tucked behind pointed ears, and how he so desperately ached to nose at your neck and inhale your scent.

It was the image of your pretty hands wrapping around his cock, instead of your wine glass, that had Eris rising from his seat a mere five minutes later, and excusing himself to the bathroom.

You washed your hands in the sink, took care to splash some on your cheeks, and gathered the courage to enter the dining room again. You hadn't a clue why it was Eris Vanserra of all people making you feel like a young girl with a crush again.

One thing you knew for certain was that you needed to find out what was hidden under that attitude of his.

Pulling open the door, you exhaled heavily, and then immediately stopped in your tracks at the sight before you. Here was Autumn's heir apparent, leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom with complete ease.

"We have to stop meeting like this, Vanserra."

Eris didn't do anything but hum at your comment, tilting his head and running that stupid, annoying look down your body.

"Everything alright?" You asked, fingertips clenching onto the doorframe.

He pushed off from the wall now and only two gentle footsteps had him towering over you.

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine. Are you alright, L/N?" He purred at you, eyes flitting over the expanse of your face.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You tried to keep your face as stoic as possible, eyebrow's taut in a faux scowl.

Eris reached a warm hand to your hair, fingertips dancing gently around a strand. He leaned forward, and you could feel breath mingling, as he whispered just before your ear.

"Because you can't stop staring," Your breath quickened at his tone, "And it would take an imbecile to not notice the scent of your arousal, Y/N."

"Nobody else seems to have noticed." This charade of nonchalance was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up. Your vision fogged with the overstimulation of Eris filling your senses.

He simply smirked, "I don't think that counters what I said."

"You're abhorrent."

"Perhaps so," Eris hummed, "But you like it."

As you gazed into the male's amber eyes, you knew there was no coming back from this. Not from what you were about to do. You could call it now; shove him out of your way, run back to the safety of your family, and tattle on him. That would certainly go over much better than if they found out about this.

If they found out about how you lost all resolve and threw yourself on Eris Vanserra.

Lips collided and bodies brushed as you reached for him, and the ache seemed to disappear instantly. It felt right, the way you slotted together, even though it was so, so wrong. His hands came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you flush to his body, and you felt how his fingertips dug into you every time you tugged on his auburn hair.

His warm hands caressed you as you attempted to get impossibly closer to the male, teeth clashing and hands shaking. As Eris tugged you closer, you could feel the hardening of his length brushing upon your body - the wetness already forming in your underwear was now soaking the garments completely.

Eris' lips found purchase on your neck, nibbling and sucking the point just below your ear that had you mewling into his shoulder. One of his hands was quick to clasp over your mouth.

"Must be quiet, Y/N," He tutted, "Can't let your brood of barbarians know that their perfect girl is getting defiled by a Vanserra, can we?"

"D-Don't," You sighed as his hands reached under your skirts, "Don't call them that."

Eris' lips hovered over yours. The teasing touch was accompanied by his fingertips grazing your inner thigh, stroking the lining of your underwear.

"Oh, I think I can do whatever I want," He smirked, "Isn't that right? Hm?"

You simply stared at him with quick breaths and a racing heart.

"I could do whatever I like to you - and you'd take it. Better yet, I'd have you begging for it," He murmured onto your mouth, "Jump."

Your legs were quick to wrap around the Autumn Lord's waist. You were only slightly ashamed of how good it felt when your body harshly met the wall.

Eris' fingers finally breached your underwear and a whimper left your lips as his thumb stroked through your folds. He quickly pressed upon your clit, small circles with just enough pressure to have you tensing.

He was back to kissing your neck now and you knew that you were fucked - that you'd never get past this. You'd never forget the way his hot tongue felt on your chest and the way his other hand palmed at your breast, readying to remove your garments completely so he could place that skilful mouth onto your nipple.

And you'd never forget how the sweat dripped down your back as Eris' fingers had you climbing and climbing and-

Are you okay, darling?

Rhys' voice in your head sobered up any climax you were close to. Your eyes grew wide and your heart dropped as you pushed Eris so hard off of you that you practically fell to the ground.

"What?" He panted where he stood, hair and clothes disheveled.

"Rhys," You swallowed, "He- He was in my head. Asked if I was okay."

"Well, I certainly don't need another male on your mind while my fingers are inside of you." Eris mocked a frown.

Gods, you forgot what a prick this male could be. Your expression soon turned sour - only a scowl sent Eris' way as you fixed your dress.

"I'll tell him I'm retiring for the night. They'll smell you all over me."

Eris made a noncommittal sound as he reached to stroke your jaw, "And wouldn't that be an awful thing."

"Let's just say I'd rather take my chance in the Mortal Lands than admit to what happened here. Then again, that's probably where I'd be headed if they ever found out." You chuckled slightly, reaching a hand to Eris' chest to softly shove him away.

Before you could make your exit out of the hall, Eris' fingers wrapped around your own and held your hand to his chest. He had pulled you just enough so that your body almost tumbled into him.

A lupine smirk grazed his features.

"Well, I guess this will have to be our little secret. Won't it, starshine?"

Then we kept everything professional, 'cause Something's changed, it’s something I like They keep watchful eyes on us so It's best that we move fast and keep quiet

Three heads turned as the mahogany door creaked open.

The room was dimly lit; only two faelights illuminated the spacious, yet cozy, office. A chair had been saved for you, your favourite one, plush with a deep green material and even darker fluffy cushions. The shadows at your feet tugged you incessantly to the welcoming expanse of the room.

"You wanted to see me?"

Violet eyes flickered with delight at your disheveled appearance. It wasn't your fault you'd already been tucked up into bed when the High Lord's talons had tapped and scraped delicately at your mind.

"Did we wake you, petal?" A teasing grin tugged at Cassian's mouth.

"Bite me, General."

Cassian was already eager to reply with whatever filth his brain had conjured, eyes full of mirth and lips parting quickly to release his retort, when Rhys was already interrupting him.

"We have a dilemma, darling," He picked at an invisible piece of lint on his suit, "We have reason to believe Beron is up to something. He's been sending spies from Autumn to our border."

"They didn't get very far." Azriel spoke up, a smirk dancing on his face.

"I don't get it," You frowned, "What do you need me for?"

Rhys' forlorn gaze drifted to the Shadowsinger and returned to you quickly, worry dancing in his eyes. Your face fell as you sighed a breath, closing your eyes at the memory forming.

You remembered it well - so well that it had been keeping you awake the past month. It was meant to be a simple recon mission. Get in, get your information, and get the fuck out.

It had only been yourself and Azriel snooping that day. Rhysand had entrusted the both of you with the task, one he knew you could fulfil. The two of you had done it a million times over and it had practically become second nature.

Yet, one moment you remembered heading back to your checkpoint to meet with Azriel, and the next you were waking in a pool of blood, freezing half to death in the snow. You had taken days to recover, but he had taken weeks.

You recalled crawling to him, holding onto your own deep, internal wounds, trying anything to get him to wake. You could make out his torn leg through your hazy vision, but it was the sight of his slashed wings that had made you panic.

You still didn't know how they had gotten the drop on you so quickly, and the more you thought on it, the more you really didn't want to know.

"I'm sorry, Az, I didn't even think." You dipped your head.

He simply sent you a soft smile. You didn't fail to notice the shadow curling around your ear.

"Don't worry, I can do it," You sent a teasing smile to Rhys, "Mother knows you can't send that oaf. Beron would find him elbow deep in the pumpkin pies before he'd even gathered any information."

"Hey!" Cassian whined as the room erupted in laughter.

You tucked your knees under your chin, curled in the chair, "When do I head off?"

"When can you be ready?"

Your head snapped to your High Lord.

"Eris is on his way to collect you."

You swallowed harshly. Your throat instantly dried, and it felt as if needles had covered all the way down to your lungs. Sweat began to form on both palms as you rubbed them on the arms of your chair.

"Eris?" You practically squeaked.

Rhys frowned, "Is that okay? I'll have him turn around the second you say the word."

"No!"

Every pair of eyes in the room were on you immediately. A deep set glower rested on Azriel's face, lifted eyebrows and open lips from Cassian. Rhys simply squinted.

"I mean," You stuttered, "If I'm gonna do this, I'll do it right. He'll be a pain in my ass, but... he'll be helpful."

"That's what I'm hoping," Rhys muttered, "Just try not to let him get to you."

Get to you. Gods, it was an effort to not laugh out loud. You hadn't seen Eris since that day in the hallway; the very thought of seeing his face again made the hairs on your body stand upright. You didn't know where this left you - you wondered if he'd pretend it never happened.

He'd made no motion to contact you, then again you highly doubted he was the type to woo a casual lover. If that's even what you were to each other.

Trepidation flooded your body. Would he say something? Make a teasing comment and expose your transgressions to your family? You internally cursed at the belief you truly had in the Autumn male, that little voice that told you he wouldn't.

You rose from your chair, feigning annoyance, "Give me twenty minutes."

"Don't try to escape." Cassian smirked again.

Rhys and Azriel snickered before the former sent a nod of his head your way.

"We'll be downstairs."

The next twenty minutes of your life consisted of pacing through you room, haphazardly throwing items of clothing into your bag as you swore under your breath. You felt like a ticking time bomb - like you could feel Eris getting closer to the estate.

The time passed too quickly for your liking, and before you knew it, you were in your leathers and heading down to your doom.

He was already here. He stood casually at the door, a hand fixing one of the cuffs of his sleeves as he pointedly ignored the looks from the other males in the hall. He looked divine.

You allowed yourself a few seconds to covertly examine his figure. He was sporting a tailored, deep maroon tunic that fell over the chestnut trousers adorning his hips. A pair of heavy, black boots were buckled on his feet. The coat was purely sinful. The material fell to his knees and fit his wide shoulders gloriously, only to tuck in at the waist, taunting you with his physique.

You wanted to rip it all off of him.

His amber eyes settled upon yours as you descended, and they glinted with something you couldn't place. He released a breath of amusement.

"Well, you look ready for war."

Before you could snark a response, growls were already pulling out of Az's and Cassian's lips. The Autumn Lord held his hands up in mock surrender as you rolled your eyes.

"I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone." You said gently.

"Doubtful." You barely heard Azriel mutter under his breath.

You said your goodbyes to the trio, hugging them each, before you turned to Eris and placed your bag in his hand.

"Come on then, Lordling. We have work to do."

You walked out before him - if you had turned, you would've noticed as he scanned your frame. You would've noticed the hunger in his expression.

When the door was closed firmly behind you, only then did you turn towards Eris. You simply looked at one another for a second, taking in all you had missed over the last month. You wondered if he missed this view just as much as you secretly did.

Eris took your chin in between his pointer and his thumb and you tried not to quake as you recalled the position you'd been in when he last did this.

"Did you get all dressed up for me?" He smirked, "I must say, you are a vision."

You clenched your jaw in annoyance, putting a hand over his wrist and tugging it off of your face.

"Can we get on with this? I can't say that you're particularly tantalising company."

The look on his face told you he knew you were lying. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Nonetheless, he simply crooked an elbow toward you, and the world disappeared as the two of you winnowed to the Autumn Court.

You won't believe half the things I see inside my head Wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened yet

It was a brisk day in Autumn that you'd arrived in. Eris had winnowed you both to the forest and the chill winds had hit you immediately. You noticed he was yet to remove his elbow and shuck you off - you dared not mention it.

The trip to the cabin was relatively quiet, save Eris informing you of his plan. You were to stay in a cabin in the vast forest, spending your days spying around and gathering information; he stated he would help where he could and keep an eye on his father.

You were glad he hadn't planned on sneaking you into the Forest House. Were you happy to spy in Autumn? Yes. Were you intrinsically afraid of Beron Vanserra? Gods yes.

You must've been walking for at least half an hour before the wood of the cabin came into view. It was a quaint little place, decked in a few faelights on the porch, and overlooking a small pond in the distance. You doubted the High Lord of Autumn knew of its existence.

Eris climbed the steps and opened the door for you, a faint scent of cedar and cinnamon flooding your nose. It was somehow even cosier as you stepped inside.

It was warm. A fire was roaring by the front entrance, illuminating the couch and the armchairs that sat by a window. To the right seemed to be a kitchen and a dining room in one; you got the impression there was rarely more than one person staying here at a time.

What shocked you the most was the life inside. Plants were growing on every surface they could sit, plush blankets were strewn across the seats, and a book was open, face-down on the tea table.

You heard the door close and turned to find Eris standing, now without your bag, a pink tinge on his cheeks.

"This is your hideout, then?" You spun around again, walking to take in the view of the room.

"Mhm," Eris reclined in one of the armchairs, "Beron is unaware of it. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Don't worry," You chuckled as you leaned to look out of the window, "I don't plan on encountering your father while I'm here."

You could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he said coyly behind you, "And what do you plan on doing while you're here?"

And what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

A tingle ran down your spine at the implication in his words, a decision quickly being made in your mind. You smiled to yourself, twisted your head to look at him over your shoulder, and pushed yourself off of the sill.

Eris was adjusting now, long legs spreading wide as a hand held his head up on the arm of the chair. You took slow steps to him, never breaking the eye contact he held deliciously. His eyes bore into yours, a lazy kind of amusement flickering in them.

His head tilted upwards and you drew nearer, your legs colliding with the plush of the armchair as you mounted his lap. With you straddling him now, he took the opportunity to run his hands from where they were placed to the back of your thighs, rubbing delicately.

"I can think of a few things." Your voice was low as you smirked, and it only took a second before Eris was reaching a hand to your chin and bringing your lips down to his.

You didn't know this feeling could get better, and somehow, it had. This time, the both of you were unhurried. There was no where to be, no risk of being caught. And though that feeling had you exhilarated last time, and you'd most certainly touched yourself to the idea of someone finding you with Eris between your legs, you liked this more.

You liked the way his tongue was caressing yours, now with no sense of urgency. He was learning - mapping your mouth and body and trying to memorise what made you tick.

Your hands were in his hair, shaking slightly as they tugged and caressed. You convinced yourself it was eagerness; it certainly was not because of how nervous Eris made you. How excited.

The male ran his hands from your face slowly, slowly, slowly down to where your leathers were buckled at your hips. His deft fingers made short work of the straps, pulling the clothing apart just enough to place a warm hand on your skin.

His thumb stroked gentle patterns into your hip bone, staying just far enough away from your centre to tease. The intimacy had you mewling into Eris' mouth.

"For as much as I hate the Night Court, I'm suddenly feeling rather grateful for how little they have you wear." He muttered against your lips.

Eris chuckled when you bit his lip as punishment.

Your hands fell clumsily on his torso to begin untying his shirt without pulling your face from his. It proved hard work and didn't take either of you long to lose patience and tear at each other's clothes.

You barely noticed the garments flying across the room - you were far too busy focusing on the heir of Autumn sat naked underneath you.

He was fucking glorious.

The expanse of chiseled torso seemed to extend for miles; freckled, pale skin swelled with every breath as he took in your bare form, now only decorated with undergarments. His strong arms wrapped around your middle made you feel small. Everything about this male made you want him to manhandle you. Ruin you.

You looked to meet Eris' eyes but he hadn't yet lifted his gaze from your body. You felt exposed as he trailed each and every detail of your skin with that infuriatingly sultry smirk.

"I cannot believe they would keep you locked away from me up in that treacherous place," His lips descended onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, "This is where you belong."

"In your lap?" You were breathless.

"Is this not an adequate throne?"

You groaned as his sinful tongue fell upon your breast, sucking and licking and kissing, until he carried you by your waist and laid you on the dining table. The cold of the wood met your back and you realised, somewhere down the line, Eris had removed your brassiere.

Audacious fuck, you chastised silently.

Your back arched as his calloused palm slowly trailed all the way from your clavicle, between your breasts, and down to your drenched briefs. He removed them slowly, amber eyes feasting on your own. First, he kissed your hip. It was slow and gentle. You weren't sure what you were expecting from Eris Vanserra as a lover, but you were certain it wasn't tenderness.

He took his time with you here. Teasing you and building tension until you were sure to explode. It was only when you began to writhe that he smiled amorously and pounced on you.

Gods, his tongue was incredible.

You never understood when other females said that they'd seen stars; your lovers were never anything more than adequate - you did most of the work and certainly were not compensated fairly. But here, with Eris? He didn't have you seeing stars. You were sure you were seeing galaxies.

It felt like being plunged into the cosmos - soul removed and bones like jelly, one with the universe and higher than anything that had existed before. Something warm filled your body. It felt like a star had exploded inside of you, like you were lighter than air, like something had snapped into place.

You were sure it was nothing.

Eris continued his pursuit on your cunt, licking and lapping and sucking in all the right spots, and when he found just the right one, he made his home. He didn't stop until your release was covering the table.

You heaved a pleasured sigh and looked up at him. The table wasn't the only thing covered in you, it seemed. You giggled lightly, hands reaching for him like a babe as he heartily chuckled, too.

Eris' lips met yours once more and you wrapped your legs around his waist, practically begging for him to enter you.

"Want something?"

"Don't tease, fireling."

"Do you really think now is an appropriate time to goad me?" He accentuated his point by pulling your hair taut and nipping at the skin of your jaw.

"I think now is an appropriate time for you to fuck me."

He hummed lowly, "My, my. That mouth of yours ought to get you into trouble one day."

Sick of waiting, you reached down between your bodies. You felt a shiver wrack Eris' body as your fingernails scraped gently along his abdominal muscles, before wrapping around his very substantially sized cock.

It was the biggest you'd seen. You wouldn't be telling him that.

"Today better be that day." You looked up at him through your eyelashes and watched desire fill his eyes.

Eris laid you flat against the table once more and had no hesitation is dragging you by your thighs to the edge of it. He pumped himself once, twice, before lining up to your entrance and loosing a breath.

Was he nervous?

It didn't matter if he was, because any cohesive thought soon left your mind as Eris sheathed the tip of his cock inside of you. The sound that left your mouth was borderline humiliating, but Eris seemed to revel in it as he plunged deeper inside of you.

You expected him to set a bruising pace outright. Instead, you were met with the most unholy of rhythms. He rocked inside of you, gentle but firm, moving his hips in a way that had you tearing at the skin of back.

His mouth hung open as he panted above you, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and he finally caught his breath enough to ask, "What do you need?"

The question was enough to make you preen, not one you'd been asked before, and you barely garbled some version of just you.

His pace quickened slightly at your words. He fucked you like it was the last thing he'd ever do - like someone was going to steal him in the night and this was the last touch of another person he'd ever be allowed. It was desperate and dirty and depraved and you couldn't get enough of him.

You were treated to a second orgasm just from the penetration alone, and a third from his fingers working at your clit.

When he finally spilled inside of you, it was with a muffled cry into your neck. The table was digging into your back and you were absolutely starved, yet you hoped nothing would interrupt this moment between you both. You laid there for a moment, panting together, with something in the air you couldn't quite out your finger on. But something was certain.

"Rhys is going to fucking kill me."

[theetherealbloom]

You Are In Love, True Love

Summary: A lasting love with Pedro Pascal.

Or… you and Pedro get engaged.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Proposal, Engagement, Fireworks, Loud Sounds, Sparklers, PDA, Fruits, Instagram Posts and Comments, 

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: WELL— um, hi! Happy New Year, my loves! I’d like to start off by saying thank you all so much for supporting me throughout this year, and to all the new followers and old ones, just know I appreciate literally each and every single one of you. Lastly, huge shoutout to @mrspascalsworld for coming up with this idea and to the 🌼!anon request.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift, You Are In Love (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift

← Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST |

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — DAY

You hummed softly under your breath, the tune indistinct but soothing as your hands folded the last of Pedro’s shirts. You carefully smoothed out the fabric, placing it into his suitcase with meticulous care. His cologne, a comforting blend of cedar and spice, lingered faintly in the air around you.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Pedro’s voice broke through the quiet, warm and tinged with amusement.

You turned, finding him leaning casually against the doorway, his arms crossed and an endearing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat. Dressed in a soft cotton t-shirt and worn jeans, his hair slightly tousled, he looked effortlessly handsome.

“Someone has to make sure you look presentable for tonight,” you teased, holding up a crisp white shirt. “Can’t have you showing up to a New Year’s Eve party looking like you’ve been wrestling stray dogs.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, feigning offense as he stepped closer. “Is this just a clever way of saying I’m hopeless without you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “If the shoe fits…”

Pedro chuckled, his laughter low and rich as he reached for you. He didn’t touch you, not immediately. Instead, he watched you, his gaze softening in a way that made your chest tighten.

“What?” you asked, a little self-conscious under his scrutiny.

“Nothing,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “Just… you. Like this. It’s perfect.”

“Oh, stop,” you said, rolling your eyes to mask the heat creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me while I’m trying to fold your underwear.”

He laughed, the sound filling the room like sunlight. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.” But even as he said it, his hands found your waist, pulling you gently toward him. “For now.”

You let yourself be drawn into his orbit, your arms instinctively looping around his neck. His touch was warm, grounding. “What’s gotten into you today?” you asked softly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

“Nothing,” he said, though the slight tension in his voice betrayed him. His gaze dropped for a moment before meeting yours again, and he offered a small, crooked smile. “Just thinking about… everything. Projects, the future. It’s a lot.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his scruff. “You’re going to be amazing, Pedro. You always are.”

“You think so?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

You nodded firmly. “I know so. And you don’t have to do it alone, okay? I’m here. Always.” You held up your pinky. “Promise.”

Pedro’s lips twitched into a genuine smile as he linked his pinky with yours. “Promise.”

Then he kissed you, slow and deliberate, as if to seal the vow. The world outside seemed to blur, leaving only the two of you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I would do this every day if I could,” he murmured, his voice a soft confession.

“You can,” you replied, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest as you swayed gently to an imaginary tune. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Pedro’s grip tightened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw something unspoken in his eyes. But before you could ask, he leaned in to kiss you again, and whatever it was melted away into the warmth of his embrace.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — AFTERNOON  

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer white curtains of the open-air restaurant at Hotel Esencia, casting a golden glow over everything it touched. The gentle hum of the ocean in the background, paired with the soft tinkling of glasses and plates, created a tranquil yet vibrant atmosphere. The restaurant’s lush greenery blended seamlessly with the warm tones of the terracotta floor and wooden furnishings.  

You sat at a circular table with Pedro, Omar, Franklin, and Lauren, the sound of their laughter mixing with the gentle rustling of the palm trees outside. Pedro sat beside you, one arm draped casually over the back of your chair. His fingers occasionally brushed your shoulder in soft, fleeting touches as he engaged in a lively debate with Omar about the best way to cut a mango.  

“I’m telling you,” Pedro said, gesturing emphatically with his free hand, “the best way is to slice it like a hedgehog and then flip it out.”  

Omar snorted. “That’s beginner-level mango cutting. You gotta peel it and slice it thin, man. That’s the pro way.”  

Lauren leaned in, sipping her drink. “Why are we even debating this? The hotel staff cut it perfectly for us. Just eat it!”  

Pedro turned to you, a wide grin spreading across his face. “What do you think, cariño? Hedgehog or pro slices?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “Honestly? I think you both just like the sound of your own voices.”  

The table erupted into laughter, and Pedro, ever the showman, pretended to be deeply offended. “Traitor,” he teased, leaning closer to you.  

As the conversation continued, Pedro reached for a small plate of fruit in the center of the table. He speared a slice of mango with a fork and held it out to you. “Here,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Taste this and tell me I’m right.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully but leaned in, letting him feed you the fruit. The sweet, tangy flavor exploded on your tongue, and you couldn’t help but smile.  

“Okay,” you admitted, licking your lips. “That’s really good.”  

Pedro’s face lit up with triumph. “See? Hedgehog for the win!”  

“Does the mango really matter, or are you just using this as an excuse to feed her?” Franklin teased from across the table, his eyebrow raised in mock suspicion.  

Pedro didn’t miss a beat. “A little of both,” he admitted, squeezing your hand under the table.  

You felt your cheeks warm, and Lauren sighed dramatically. “You two are so gross. Like, cute-gross. But still gross.”  

“Oh, come on,” you said, laughing as you leaned against Pedro’s shoulder. “We’re not that bad.”  

“Yes, you are,” Omar interjected, pointing at you with his fork. “The way you two look at each other? It’s like a rom-com in real life. I’m waiting for the dramatic love confession during a thunderstorm any day now.”  

Pedro chuckled, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. “Sorry to disappoint, but I save my dramatic love confessions for sunny beaches and candlelit dinners.”  

“Of course you do,” Franklin said dryly.  

The banter continued as plates were passed around and stories were exchanged. At one point, Pedro leaned closer to you, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke softly. “You look beautiful today, by the way. I don’t think I’ve told you yet.”  

You turned to him, your smile softening. “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself, you know.”  

His grin widened, and he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll take it.”  

As the lunch wound down, Pedro took another piece of fruit and held it to your lips, his expression playful. “Last one?”  

You bit into it, laughing as he exaggerated a swoon. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.  

“And you love it,” he replied confidently, his eyes sparkling.  

Omar groaned. “Seriously, can someone separate these two before I die from secondhand sweetness?”  

Lauren raised her glass. “Here’s to our disgustingly in-love friends. May their PDA always remind us how single we are.”  

The table burst into laughter, and you felt Pedro’s hand tighten around yours, grounding you in the midst of the playful chaos.  

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice just for you. “I’ll make it even worse later.”  

You nudged him gently with your elbow, unable to hide your grin. “I’m holding you to that.”  

With the ocean breeze swirling around you and Pedro’s warmth beside you, the moment felt like a scene from one of your favorite romance novels—perfectly ordinary and yet entirely magical.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — EVENING

The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing by the time you and Pedro arrived. The beach was transformed into a luminous paradise. Fairy lights strung between swaying palm trees bathed everything in a warm, golden glow. Lanterns floated lazily in the night sky, their soft flickers mirrored on the rippling waves. The mingling sounds of music, laughter, and the gentle crash of the ocean created a magical atmosphere that felt otherworldly yet comforting.

Pedro walked beside you, his hand firmly gripping yours, a quiet, grounding presence amid the bustle of the party. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, a wordless reassurance that seemed to say, I’m here, and I’m not letting go.

You greeted friends with smiles and exchanged well-wishes for the new year. Omar cracked jokes that had everyone in your group doubling over in laughter. Franklin and Lauren danced barefoot on the sand, spinning and twirling under the fairy lights. Pedro chuckled softly, pulling you closer to his side as you watched the others, your heart swelling at the sight of such joy.

At one point, Pedro leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I have a surprise for you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Oh? What kind of surprise?”

He grinned, a hint of mischief lighting his eyes. “You’ll see. Come with me.”

With a quick goodbye to your friends, Pedro led you away from the crowd. You followed him down a narrow path lined with flickering candles in glass jars. The sound of the party faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore. Each step seemed to draw you further into an intimate bubble, a world that consisted only of you and Pedro.

When you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks. A secluded section of the beach had been transformed into something out of a dream. Strings of fairy lights hung between tall wooden poles, casting a warm, golden light over a blanket spread neatly on the sand. Soft, colorful pillows were arranged in inviting clusters, and a bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket nearby. Candles flickered in the gentle breeze, their flames casting dancing shadows across the scene.

“Pedro,” you breathed, your voice catching. Your hand flew to your chest as you took it all in. “What is this?”

He turned to you, his expression softer, more serious than you’d ever seen. “Something I’ve been planning for a while now.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Pedro took both of your hands in his, his fingers warm and slightly trembling. His thumb stroked over your knuckles, grounding both of you in the moment.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “About everything we’ve been through. About how much you’ve changed my life. You’re my best friend, my partner, my everything. You’ve made me laugh on my worst days and held me together when I thought I’d fall apart. I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling up in your eyes. He squeezed your hands, his gaze locked on yours.

“I want your midnights and late-night snack hunts,” he continued, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I want to slow dance in the kitchen with you, humming our favorite songs. I want every moment, big and small, because you make all of them better just by being there.”

Pedro dropped to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. The sight stole the breath from your lungs.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, his brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you?”

You were nodding before he even finished speaking, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “Yes,” you choked out, your voice trembling with joy. “Of course, yes.”

The world seemed to hold its breath as Pedro slid the ring onto your finger. It was delicate and timeless, a gold band adorned with a diamond that shimmered under the fairy lights. You recognized it instantly as the one his mother had worn in old photographs. The significance of it made your heart swell.

Pedro stood and pulled you into his arms, spinning you around as laughter bubbled from your lips. Tears mingled with joy as you clung to him, your face buried in his neck.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his hair.

Cheers erupted behind you, startling you both. You turned to see Omar, Franklin, Lauren, and a handful of other friends holding sparklers, their faces alight with joy as they cheered and clapped. Phones were out, capturing the moment from every angle. The scene felt surreal, like something out of a fairy tale.

Pedro’s smile widened as he kissed you again, his lips soft and lingering against yours. When the fireworks began, you flinched at the loud bangs, your body instinctively tensing. Pedro’s arms tightened around you, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. “Always.”

You pressed your face into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. When you looked up, his hand was already there to wipe away the stray tear trailing down your face.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, taking your hand. “I want to start this year with just us.”

You nodded, letting him lead you back to your suite. The walk felt like a dream, the buzz of the party and the distant sound of fireworks fading into the background. When you entered the room, the warmth of his hand never left yours.

Pedro closed the door gently behind you, his eyes soft but brimming with unspoken emotion. He stepped closer, his hands cradling your face as he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“You’re my everything,” he murmured before his lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the intoxicating taste of him.

Clothes were shed in a trail leading to the bed, each piece falling away with whispered promises and quiet gasps. Pedro’s hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of your body as if committing them to memory. His lips followed, leaving a trail of fire along your skin that made you shiver.

He laid you down gently, his body hovering over yours. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice low and reverent.

“Never,” you whispered, your hands threading through his hair to pull him back down to you.

The night stretched on, filled with love and passion. Pedro’s touch was both tender and consuming, every kiss and caress carrying the weight of his feelings. And as you lay tangled together afterward, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew this was the first of countless nights you’d spend like this.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Happy New Year,” you echoed, your voice soft and full of love.

With Pedro beside you, the future felt impossibly bright.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — MORNING

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow. You stirred awake, the warmth of Pedro’s arms wrapped securely around you. His chest rose and fell against your back, the soft rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a sense of pure peace.

“Good morning, fiancé,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “Good morning, fiancé.”

Pedro’s lips curved into a lazy grin as he brushed a kiss against your temple. “Fiancé. I like how that sounds. Doesn’t it sound so official? Like I’ve been upgraded.”

You laughed, rolling over to face him fully. “Oh, it’s an upgrade, all right. High maintenance, though. Hope you’re ready for that.”

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. “Worth every bit of maintenance,” he said softly, his brown eyes locking onto yours with a gaze so full of love it made your heart ache.

After a few blissful moments of cuddling, you sat up, the blanket slipping off your shoulders. Pedro reached for his phone on the nightstand, his fingers brushing yours as you both instinctively checked your messages.

The notifications on his screen were wild—texts from friends, family, and coworkers all pouring in, congratulating him. You could already hear Franklin’s teasing voice in your head: “Finally! You pulled it off without tripping over yourself.”

Pedro chuckled at the chaos. “Looks like the engagement buzz has already started.”

You glanced at his phone over his shoulder, spotting a text from his sister. “Let me guess, your sister is already planning our wedding?”

“Not just her—my cousins have entered the group chat. They’re plotting from all angles.” He scrolled further, smirking as he turned his phone toward you. “Look at this: Lauren sent a voice note. Wanna bet it’s just her screaming?”

You both laughed as he played the message, and sure enough, Lauren’s excited squeals filled the room.

“I love them,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“And they love you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Speaking of love… I was thinking. Maybe it’s time I post something. You know, about us.”

You raised an eyebrow. Pedro was famously private when it came to his personal life. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He turned to you, his expression serious but full of warmth. “I want the whole world to know how lucky I am. I want to shout it from the rooftops—or, you know, post it on Instagram.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you nudged him playfully. “You’re such a romantic, Pascal.”

He grinned, already opening the app. “Only for you, amor.”

Pedro scrolled through the photos you’d taken during the trip, landing on one from last night. It was a candid shot that Franklin had snapped during the proposal. You were mid-laugh, tears of joy sparkling in your eyes, and Pedro was on one knee, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

“That one,” he said softly, showing you the picture. “It’s perfect.”

Your heart swelled. “It’s us.”

Pedro typed the caption, pausing dramatically as he turned the phone toward you. “‘Guess what 💍.’ Too much?”

You burst out laughing, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “It’s perfect. Post it before I change my mind and make you write a paragraph.”

He tapped the screen, and the post was live.

It didn’t take long for the post to gain traction. Within minutes, the comments flooded in, and Pedro couldn’t stop grinning as he scrolled through them, reading some aloud.

@ franklinlatt: FINALLY. My boy did it. I’m crying. Call me later or I’m disowning you.

@ laurenalexander: AHHHH!!! We need a wedding planning spreadsheet STAT.

@ omar.apollo: Pedro Pascal is officially off the market. RIP to all of us. Congrats, you two!!

Fans were equally unhinged:

@ pedropascalfan101: I AM SOBBING. LOOK AT THEM.

@ fiancégoals: Pedro, how does it feel to have found the literal love of your life? Asking for a friend.

@ pedropascalfanaccount: HOLY CRAP HE DID IT. DADDY IS OFF THE MARKET.

@ pedropascalforever: We love this for you but also… who do I cry to about this???

@ pedrostan: She’s GORGEOUS. Look at them. LOOK AT THEM. I’M SOBBING.

@ cocoullrich: About damn time, man! Congrats to you both!

@ pascalloml: Pedro Pascal is the blueprint of a man. Take notes, everyone.

@ hollywoodbuzz: Pedro Pascal announces engagement in the most adorable way ever. We’re not crying; YOU are.

Pedro chuckled, showing you the screen. “I think they’re happy for us.”

You leaned against him, scrolling through the comments. “Some of them are a little heartbroken, though.”

He kissed your cheek. “They’ll survive. I’ve already won the lottery with you, anyway.”

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — LATER THAT MORNING 

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. After a decadent breakfast in bed—mimosas fizzing in crystal glasses, pancakes piled high and dripping with syrup—you and Pedro moved to the balcony. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, its gentle rhythm matching the easy calm between you.  

Pedro leaned back in his chair, a slight breeze ruffling his tousled hair, his eyes fixed on you with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You were turning your engagement ring slowly between your fingers, the sunlight catching on the delicate details of the band.  

“It was my mom’s, you know,” he said, his voice breaking the peaceful silence.  

Your head shot up, surprise and awe softening your expression. “Pedro…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you’d trust me with something so meaningful.”  

He reached across the small table, his hand enveloping yours, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles over your skin. “It’s not just trust, amor. It’s love. Belonging. This ring belonged to her, and now it belongs to you. Because you’re my family now. You’re the person I want to build my life with—the one I want to pass this kind of love down through.”  

The sincerity in his words undid you. Your eyes filled with tears, but you managed a shaky smile. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you? Were you saving all this charm for after the engagement?”  

Pedro laughed, the sound warm and rich, leaning forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not the only one evolving here. I’m in full fiancé mode now—expect poetic declarations, grand gestures, and probably some embarrassing moments along the way.”  

You giggled, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. “I don’t think my heart can handle much more.”  

He grinned, the dimple you loved so much making its appearance. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”  

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away—the waves, the breeze, the distant hum of life below. There was only Pedro and the quiet magic of being his.  

Then, his phone buzzed on the table, pulling you both back to the present. Pedro glanced at the screen and groaned. “It’s Lux. She’s FaceTiming me. Should we answer, or let her stew a little longer?”  

“Answer,” you said, laughing. “You know she won’t stop until you do.”  

With a resigned smile, Pedro swiped to accept the call, holding the phone out so you were both in the frame. Lux’s face appeared, and her mock-outrage was immediate.  

“Finally!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I’ve been waiting for this moment forever. And no heads-up? No exclusive family memo?”  

Pedro smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Some things are worth keeping a surprise, hermana.”  

Lux rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Well, surprise or not, I’m happy for you guys. You’re disgustingly perfect together, and I love it. But don’t think this gets you out of celebrating properly when you’re back.”  

You leaned into the frame, grinning. “We’ll be ready for whatever chaos you’ve got planned.”  

“Good. Oh, and don’t forget to call Dad, Pedro,” Lux added, her tone turning maternal.  

Pedro groaned. “Yes, yes. I’ll call him right after this. Thanks for the reminder, coach.”  

Lux laughed. “Love you both. Now go enjoy your engagement. And call Dad, or I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”  

As the call ended, Pedro set his phone down with a shake of his head. “That woman. It’s like she’s my manager and life coach rolled into one.”  

You smiled, leaning your chin on your hand as you gazed at him. “She’s not wrong, though. You should call your dad before he finds out from the media.”  

Pedro sighed dramatically but nodded. “You’re right, as usual. I’ll be back in a second.”  

He disappeared inside to make the call, leaving you on the balcony with the soothing sound of the waves and the weight of the ring on your finger. You turned it slowly, marveling at the reality of it all.  

When Pedro returned, his face was lit with joy. “He cried. Happy tears, don’t worry. And he’s already planning a trip to wherever we’re going next.”  

You laughed. “Guess we’d better get ready for some family bonding.”  

Pedro sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything.”  

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling with love. “I feel the same way. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”  

He leaned down to kiss you, soft and lingering, as if sealing a vow between you. The world felt bright and endless, full of promise. And for the first time, you were certain: you were exactly where you were meant to be.  

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 8

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

Sadly, Max didn’t get to push George Russell of the track. Instead he accidentally hit Oscar in the first corner, which definitely hadn’t been on purpose…and also resulted in another penalty point and a 10 second penalty.

He was really done with this season.

At the same time, Charles carved his way up from P19 to P2 in which, what Max was pretty sure, could only be described as going on the warpath. Max was honestly just impressed at the speed with which Charles had managed to claw himself up to P2, and he would have applauded the effort if he hadn’t been so damn frustrated with everything else.

At this point, he just wanted to get the race done and over with and go home. He'd have time to worry about the penalty later - he just wanted to get this race over the finish line so that he could get a flight to Monaco and to Colette.

With that thought in mind, the last 12 laps went by in a blur, and it felt like no time at all until the checkered flag appeared.

For the first time all season, Max didn’t bother trying to push beyond the limit for an extra few seconds of time.Because quite frankly, it didn’t actually matter.

McLaren had gotten the constructor championship for the first time in 26 years.

"t may not have been the fastest race but I just wanted to say a big thank you for the season, guys. It hasn’t been easy at times, we still have quite a few things to improve on but we still won a world championship.  So, thank you for all the hard work the whole year," Max said into the radio. "Enjoy your time off and then we’ll go back at it again next year. Thank you, guys."

And now Max finally got to go home to Colette.

GP's voice came over the radio. "Get weighed and then we need you to come into the garage as quickly as possible, Max." 

Max furrowed his brows at the words. That was…odd. Why would he need to go to the garage immediately?

"Is everything alright?" he demanded. 

GP didn’t answer immediately, which did nothing to diminish Max’s worry.

His heart skipped a beat when the engineer finally responded, hesitantly. “Just come to the garage, please. Quickly.”He had wanted to apologise to Oscar about their incident in the first corner at the start, but that was quickly forgotten, at the tone in GP's voice.

It sounded alarmed and anxious, and that got Max's heart racing. Something was wrong, something was wrong, and he needed to get to the garage to find out what it was.

It took him an incredible amount of self-restraint not to outright bolt out of the car and charge into the garage, but he somehow managed to get out of the car, weighed himself in and all but dashed towards the garage.

"GP?!" he called out as he stormed into the garage. "What the hell is going on? What’s wrong? Why-"

GP was the one who dragged him into one of the side rooms, where no cameras would see the exchange that followed. There was Christian waiting, as well as his father. 

This wasn't good.

The sight was alarming enough to make him freeze. His heart seemed to skip a beat.

"I-” Max cut himself off, staring at the three men. "What- what's going on?"

"Colette is in labour," Christian answered. "Her brother Arthur texted me. Your pilot filed flight plans thirty minutes ago. There is a car waiting to take you to the airport."

For a moment, Max’s brain just froze altogether, his thoughts screeching to a halt.

His vision wavered as the words echoed in his head, and he had to reach out and grab a hold of the wall next to him as his legs tried to buckle.

He couldn’t have read those words right. There was no way - she had four more weeks. They had more time, Colette couldn’t be in labour.

But it was GP's voice that was cutting through the fog in his head. “Max.  Are you with us?”

Max had to take a deep breath, forcing his mind into action.

"Yeah," he heard himself croak out. The only thought in his mind was that he had to get to the airport. He had to get home as fast as he possibly could.

“We need to get Charles," he demanded. “I don’t care how you do it. I’ll pay whatever ridiculous fine the FIA demands. But if he finds out I left without him, he’s going to kill me.”

There was no doubt about that. 

Max was dimly aware that all three men were looking at him with varying levels of sympathy - but he didn’t care. He only had one thought in his mind, and that was getting to Colette as soon as goddamn possible.

"Gemma is getting him right now," Christian promised him. "I already talked with Ferrari...or screamed at them, that is more likely. So did Arthur apparently. I need to warn you though, the press is swarming outside, especially after your father's little interview," he said darkly.

"What interview?" Max asked, staring at his father. What interview were they talking about?!

"I talked to Sky News about your anger issues," his father said drily.

"Correction," GP snapped. "You told Sky News that Colette and Max are a couple and that their baby is due any day."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and they were like a punch to the gut. His father had done what?

"You told the damn media she’s having our baby?" he exclaimed, staring at the older man. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"

"No, I merely said it’s due any day," Jos snapped. "Not that it's actually on the way. Calm down, I only said it because you need to stop denying that you two are an item, it’s getting ridiculous!"

Max honestly didn’t even know how to react to the words. Normally, he would’ve been furious right now. His father had just gone and announced their private life to the entire world. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the fact that Colette was currently in labour…

"He also said and I quote It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough!" GP snapped, looking and sounding more furious than Max had ever seen him before. 

For a moment, Max almost choked and he whirled to his father, his eyes wide. "You-" the words got stuck in his throat. "We’ve been trying for nearly three years. Colette had two miscarriages!"

All of a sudden, the anger that had been boiling inside of Max just evaporated into thin air, leaving only cold, burning rage behind. He took a shuddering breath, his whole body trembling violently. "How. Dare. You," he spat. Even he was surprised how menacing it sounded, but he was also way beyond caring.

"You never said," his father said, nearly silently.

“Clearly I had a good reason,” Max bit out. “We lost two babies. And you are telling us that we took our time? How. Dare. You."

There was a flicker of something in his father’s eyes, which looked awfully similar to pain and regret, but Max was far too furious to care about some kind of guilt.

"You have no right-" he bit out, his voice trembling with anger, "No right to talk or say anything about-"

"It was already out anyway," his father defended himself.

The words made Max freeze again, and he slowly straightened, the cold fury rushing through his veins and making him feel lightheaded. He clenched his jaw, fighting to find the right words, even if he was pretty sure he was about to completely lose it.

“Another word. About her, about our baby. About either of them,” he snarled, his words low and dripping with venom. “ And I will have absolutely no problem with completely and permanently cutting you out of my life, vader.  You’ll be dead to me. To Colette. To our baby. Is. That. Clear? Colette is not something that we are going to negotiate about. It didn’t work when I was 15. It‘s not working now!"

Surprisingly enough, Jos didn’t reply. The only sound in the room was of Max’s ragged breathing.

He didn’t notice Christian’s worried glance in his direction, but GP’s low and quiet voice cut through his thoughts. "Max."

Max flinched, and he forced himself to get a grip. For a half a second, he couldn’t bring himself to turn to look at the people around him.

Finally, he straightened, forcing his legs to move and his mouth to form a response. “Yeah.”

“There is a car waiting. Go,” GP told him calmly. There really wasn’t any reason to linger, and if he were to say anything else, he was in serious risk of exploding.

Max took a deep breath and moved towards the door, the need to see Colette driving every thought out of his mind.

All the anger and adrenaline made it very easy to push through the hoard of reporters and journalists waiting just outside the garage, his mind laser focused.

There were cameras flashing and reporters shouting questions, but he ignored them all. His only priority was to get to Colette.

At the same time as his single-minded determination helped him to power through the throng of people and reach the car waiting for him, his mind was also whirling with a thousand different questions.

What happens if the baby came right now? What if something went wrong? What if-

***

Charles had known that something was wrong. But then...he had been having that feeling for days. Colette was feeling anxious and scared and angry and a thousand other things and Charles would have known that she was feeling that way, even if he hadn't texted her. 

They had always known if something was wrong with each other. They had always known what the other one was feeling.

That had always been their connection…He loved his brothers more than anything. He did. But they weren’t Colette. They weren’t his twin sister. 

Two lives, two halves of one whole. He would never feel complete without Colette. 

Charles could always tell if something was wrong with his twin. And for days now, something had been very, very wrong.

And still he had soldiered on. He had dragged his car from P19 up to P3. Just behind Carlos...two podiums for Ferrari but not enough to clinch the constructor's championship.

He had only done so because he had known that Colette was never gonna let him hear the end of it if he didn't do his very best.

Just like she had been with him during that Formula 2 race less than 48 hours after their father had died…and she had told him to get into that damn car and race in circles, she had done the same this time. 

And he had listened. 

Of course, he had. 

Still...he had never been more thankful that a Race was over than he was of this one. He was just happy that it was over. 

He followed along to the cooldown room on autopilot, Lando already, then Carlos following after him.

The absolute drama that went down there next...well, it simply started with a commotion. And screaming.

The next things they knew, there was Camilla, PR from Ferrari, in what could only be described as a screaming match with Gemma from Red Bull...with security following along as Gemma more or less threw herself into the cooldown room, completely ignoring what anybody else was telling her. 

Charles stared, utterly bewildered. What the hell was going on here? 

Why was Gemma here, literally shoving her way into the cooldown room and throwing herself at him, security struggling to stop her?

"He deserves to know!" Gemma snapped at Camilla. "You cannot keep this from him! This is about his family. We have tried to talk to Ferrari, you are either ignoring our calls or telling us that there is no way you'll tell him until after the interviews are done. What is wrong with you?"

“What the hell is going on?” Charles managed to finally find his voice. What was happening? What were they talking about? What the hell was wrong with Ferrari? "Someone, anyone, give me an answer!"

The only person who seemed willing to answer was Camilla and the look on her face was completely unapologetic. "You are a Ferrari driver," she said simply, as if that explained everything. "There is nothing that goes on with you while you are driving that takes precedence over your job."

"He isn't driving now," Gemma snapped, as she turned towards Charles. "Your sister is in the hospital. Max's pilot has filed flight plans. There is a car waiting to bring you both back to Monaco."

That got Charles' attention like nothing else would have done. In one second, he went from baffled confusion to absolute shock and alarm. His eyes widened, his heart beginning to pound as adrenaline and fear suddenly flooded his system. "She's...she's...what?" he asked hoarsely.

"In the hospital," Gemma repeated, giving him a pointed look.

"What happened?" Lando demanded suddenly. "Is Colette alright?"

"Is something wrong with the baby?" Charles choked out. 

With the baby. No. No. Not again. 

He had seen his sister utterly heartbroken twice about her two miscarriages. 

And these two miscarriages had been horrible. Heartbreaking. Devastating. Had destroyed her. But they hadn't been...They had been early on in the pregnancy.

They hadn't been after Colette had spent months pouring over baby name books and buying things for the nursery, after she had let him feel the baby kick in her belly...after...after all of this...

"What baby?!" Lando blurted out suddenly, but Charles ignroe that. 

"Max's pilot has filed flight plans. There is a car waiting to bring you both back to Monaco," Gemma repeated. "But you need to come with me now, Charles.” 

"He's not coming with you!" Camilla snapped. "Charles has media obligations!"

"I don't give a fuck about my media obligations!" Charles snapped back at her. He was literally shaking with the sheer strength of his anger. "My sister is in the hospital! I am going. Now."

Charles didn't wait for a response. He was already headed towards the exit, his blood thundering in his ears as confusion and fear and anger raced through his body. The only thing that was going through his head was Colette was in the hospital, Colette was in the hospital, Colette. was. In. The. Hospital.

If anybody tried to stop him now, he would have absolutely no problem going straight through them.

"You are a Ferrari driver," Camilla growled.

"And," Charles snarled, whipping around to look at her. "I am a brother. And a twin. And she is my other half. She is in the damn hospital, and you tried to keep that information from me. What, did Ferrari think that I just wouldn’t care?"

That seemed to render her speechless for a moment, but only for a moment. "We believed," she said coldly, with an undercurrent of anger beneath. "That you would remain professional and focus on your job as you were paid to do so."

"Are you serious?" Lando snapped at that moment. "His sister is in the hospital and you want him to do interviews!?"

"I was not speaking to you, Norris," Camilla said, in a voice that could freeze water. "It is none of your business. We are trying to deal with a delicate public relations issue here that you don't understand."

"I have sisters too," Carlos snapped. "And you better believe that if one of them was in the hospital, I would be there too." 

"Go," Lando told Charles at that moment. "GO."

Charles didn't need to be told twice. He was already halfway out the door. There was only one thought on his mind. Colette.

[vevobly]

Yellowjackets Friends With Benefits Headcanons! [Pre-crash] (1)

A/N: I wrote this with female reader in mind, so I apologize in advance for those who wanted it to be vague and up to your interpretation! This is sort of an AU since Jeff is Jackie's ex here.

Jackie Taylor:

Aside from the fact that Jeff was terrible in bed, Jackie would absolutely love the arrangement you two have. Unlike him, you actually manage to make her feel the real thing. Honestly, If it weren't for the fact you're a girl, Jackie might have just dated you instead. Still, that doesn't stop the golden girl from feeling something for you. You treat her better than Jeff or any of the other guys she's dated ever did. And you're not even her lover—just a friend she hooks up with from time to time!

To Jackie, it’s all just a game where she holds the upper hand. To her, it’s casual—nothing more, nothing less. Until it isn’t, and she finds herself craving more than what you both agreed to initially. She starts flirting with you constantly, literally flaring up with jealousy anytime someone else so much as looks at you. You're practically hers with how glued she is to your side. Despite the boundaries you set up, Jackie wants you guys together. She wants something official, something real.

"So, are you seeing anyone else? Not that I care or anything, just curious."

Shauna Shipman:

All is well until it isn't. Shauna doesn't know when or how it happened, but she fell for you. While she DID agree to keep things casual with you, she's quickly regretting it after discovering she wants more than what this stupid arrangement you guys have with each other originally entailed. Jackie never really looked at her the way you did, and let's be honest—Jeff only looked at her when she didn't look at him. But you? You, on the other hand, look at her and actually see her for her.

It’s no surprise to Shauna that she fell for you. You are you. And while she does try her best to keep things as they are, she can't help but wonder. Did you want more with her or was she just reading too much into it? Shauna doesn't know what to do. She's trying everything to separate her feelings from you and the arrangement you guys have, but it's not working. Shauna wants you, she wants all of you to her.

"I mean, it's fine if it's just fun. Totally fine."

Taissa Turner:

Tai really prides herself on her self-control. So imagine her utter surprise with herself when she realized she wanted more than the things you guys agreed on in your arrangement. Baffled, even more so with the context of your relationship with each other. Immediately, she's putting her feelings for you to the side. What you guys have is an arrangement, something mutually beneficial to both of you. It's that, and nothing else more.

But dammit, the heart wants what it wants. And while Tai does want you, she's not gonna go ahead and push her own desires onto you. Not unless you wanted to, of course. Tai is very respectful towards the boundaries you guys set up, but that doesn't stop her from being protective of you. Protectiveness, which starts being a little more like possessiveness over time, especially when someone else than her hopes to catch your attention.

"As long as we’re both on the same page, this can work. But if it gets complicated, let’s talk."

Van Palmer:

Van, out of all the girls, would be the most laid back about it. Sure, she'd love to be more than what you are now, but she's going to push unless you want that too. That doesn't mean it's easy for her though, especially when you're doing things far beyond what friends should typically do. She can't help but want more than just to be your friend. Still, Van refuses to make things messier by letting her feelings complicate the situation. She'd rather keep things as they are than lose you.

To cope with her whole situationship with you, Van jokes every once in a while about your arrangement with each other. And while she says it with laughter usually, you can't help but feel like there's a sad undertone to it. Yeah, she's all big smiles and laughing about it, but there's always this sad look in her eyes when she jokes about what you guys have. What she is to you, and what you are to her. But you don't know, maybe you're just reading too much into it.

"So, what do we call this? Friends with benefits? Or... close gal pals?"

Natalie Scatorccio:

Natalie fully knows that what you guys have is an arrangement, a deal you both agreed on for your own benefit. Yet, she can't help thinking about it as more than just that. Yeah, she acts like the whole thing doesn't mean much jackshit to her, but deep down? It means more than anything. Nat wouldn't fully admit to herself, much less to anyone else, but despite the fact you both aren't dating each other. Hooking up with someone else than you feels like cheating on you.

It's those kinds of thoughts that make Natalie come to a realization of what exactly she feels for you—love. Fuck, as if life hasn't screwed her too much already, she just had to go ahead and fall for you. She tries everything she can to keep things the same but fails. When she can't do that, she starts doing her moves. It's all subtle to her, at least. But others? No. Natalie does anything for you without a second thought, she doesn't expect you to return the favor but still.. she's hoping.

"We're just having fun, right? No need to overthink it."

Lottie Matthews:

Although Lottie did agree on this whole arrangement with you, it hasn't been doing much other than causing a real stir within her. Yes, this whole thing is meant to be casual. And it is casual. For you, at least. For Lottie? It isn't. Despite the whole fuss you guys made about not doing anything with each other outside of this—Lottie wants to kiss you, she wants to hold your hand, whisper sweet nothings to your ears, and explore your body with love. Not lust, or for pleasure.

Lottie is aware of what she feels for you quickly. And at first, she thinks about breaking it up with you. But Lottie wants you, she needs you. And so, instead of doing that, she decides to keep up this arrangement with you. Whether it's intentional or not, Lottie starts dragging intimate things into what you guys have. She takes you out for dinner, you guys talk for hours, until she's taking you home then kissing you goodbye on the cheek—it's those that bring Lottie to realize she loves you.

“I'm okay with this. I'm okay with you, and I'm okay.. with us.”

Laura Lee:

Laura Lee feels torn about what’s going on between you two—not because you’re a girl. No, that's never been an issue for her. But because to her, sex is something sacred and this feels like it goes against everything she believes in. Still, her feelings for you are so strong that she convinces herself it doesn’t matter. It works for a while. Things between you seem perfect, until you're leaning in to kiss her and she finds herself wanting you. No, needing you wholly. Kissing you softly for an eternity.

Laura Lee is lost as to what she should do. So she does what she does best when she's lost, she prays. She asks for guidance about this arrangement you guys have with each other, hoping for some clarity on whether this whole thing that you both agreed and went fully board on with was a good choice or not in the end. Like the rest of the girls, she tries her best to keep it as the way it is. But it's hard to do that when you're looking at her like she put the stars up in the skies, and made the world shine much brighter at night.

“I just think we should… talk about where this is going. For both of our sakes.”

Misty Quigley:

Misty would throw herself into this arrangement with you in full enthusiasm. Depending on how much she valued and liked you, she would see this whole thing you guys got on going as some sort of sign about how close you guys are to one another and so. And knowing Misty? You bet your ass that this girl will have trouble keeping things casual with you because despite what you guys agreed on and what she said in response to it, she's growing increasingly attached to you.

Misty being Misty would go above and beyond just to please you. Crossing a bunch of your boundaries from every once in a while just because of it and her own eagerness to keep you close around her. Whether you talked to her or not about keeping this whole thing just the way it is and nothing else more, she would still pursue you. The girl will tell you that she's fine with this arrangement going nowhere else while basically contradicting her words by her own very actions.

“I just think we’re really great together, don’t you? Like, we could be even more, but... no pressure!”

[trexiejan]

Friendly reminder that DC and Dickbabs writers are gaslighting you into thinking Dickbabs are childhood sweethearts that are always in love with each other since day 1.

Dickbabs is the most superficial manufactured by retcons ship.

Babs was deaged for this crap to work.

Here is Original Barbara Gordon working as a congresswoman in the Senate when Dick was just the little kid Robin.

She was much closer to Bruce and Clark's age than Dick's.

Barbara refers to Dick as a "kid" and "little brother.

Dick had a small puppy crush on her but it was seen as a precocious crush. It was controversial when they first kiss (to make Dick shut up) because it involved a grown ass woman kissing a teenager.

Dickbabs was hated the same way modern Brucebabs is hated today.

Even the writer of that book admitted he never intended for them to become a couple.

Babs was more into older guys.

- she was viewed as an equal love interest to Batman

- she went out on a date with Superman

- then got engaged to her coworker Jason Bard.

Dickbabs shippers always try to deny that Babs was deaged and her history was altered for dickbabs in an effort to defend their ship.

They say it's not true because according to them Babs has been deaged long before dickbabs became a couple.

Here's the thing though:

Babs has been deaged twice.

Just because she wasn't deaged to be with Dick in her 1st deaging doesn't change the fact that she was deaged to be the same age as him in her 2nd deaging which happened in dickbabs content.

The 1st time she was deaged was in Crisis on Infinite Earths, it was so Jim could be younger but they only decreased her age slightly because she's still written as older than Dick, here is a panel from Secret Origins #20 that was published in 1986 exactly 1 year after she was first deaged in Crisis on infinite earths (1985) she said Dick is too young for her and that batman is always the one on her mind. So Dickbabs during this time still couldn't work because they still have that age gap and Babs was still into Bruce.

The 2nd time she was deaged is in dickbabs comics and tv shows where she was finally made the same age as Dick so dickbabs can finally work as a romantic pairing.

Instead of being older, she's now written as a part of Dick's generation.

From a congresswoman to a young girl who went to highschool prom with Dick.

Even Tom Taylor had the two first meet when they were young little kids so he can also portray them as childhood sweethearts in his run.

Tom Taylor claims Barbara still has a law degree but isn't it sad how instead of using that degree to find an actual job, she wasted her time following Dick around like a dog in Bludhaven ?

She has no job of her own, no friends of her own, no hobbies of her own outside of Dick.

She's just Dick's clingy lovesick girlfriend who is a total standby for him in his solo books.

Dickbabs shippers who deny this and get mad at people who point this out are the people who don't care about Barbara Gordon as an individual.

They don't care that Barbara lost her PHD degree, lost her own career, lost her own agency, lost her history, lost her self identity for the sake of shipping.

Their only concern is defending dickbabs and making it look better.

Because if they truly like Barbara separately from Dick, all these valid anti-dickbabs criticisms wouldn't bother them.

What's even funnier is that they are the very same people who accuse Starfire of being reduced into Dick's love interest despite the fact that Starfire hasn't been in a relationship with Dick in the comics for 20+ years due to the fact that dickkory's history was ignored and erased in favor of dickbabs. NASTY HYPOCRITES.

At least Starfire wasn't deaged to fit Dick and you can never see Starfire following Dick around like a dog in his solo books 💀