#or poke at a dead topic

[sharkinlovewithadolphin]

You're right and you should say it

not to stir shit up but... 🤷‍♀️ it was nearly traumatic back then but now it's honestly just funny and ironic how we didn't even need to make in-depth analyses or anything, we could just be citing canon material and then be met with 1) "yeah but mh are best friends so like... can i make it any more obvious" 2) "no!!! this is fake!!! rin is abusive!!!" 3) death threats or 4) all three

[atthebell-moved]

as a religious studies scholar watching western television try to grapple with anything that isn't bland american protestantism is really heinous

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking about married teacher steve and rockstar eddie.

steve’s students like to poke fun at him for “not being cool” or “trying to be cool”, and steve just feeds into it and plays up his cluelessness to modern things and what’s “hip” nowadays. he always just tells them they have no idea, and they’re gonna eat their words one day when they see how cool he really is, but all the kids just laugh and think he’s being sarcastic.

one day a group in his class is talking about the popular rock music star eddie munson, about his music and how much they love him, and steve joins in, asking them about eddie and what kind of music he makes and so on. he says something like “oh yeah, i think i know munson. yeah he’s cool, makes good stuff” and the kids are like “as if you know eddie munson, mr h, there is no way”. steve just chuckles and says “if you say so”

meanwhile eddie EATS EACH STORY UP when steve comes home with a something new to tell him all about what his kids were saying to him today

honourable mention but eddie also is WEAK for steve’s teacher outfits, the button ups, the vests, when he wears a tie WITH his glasses consider eddie a dead man.

on the last day of class for the year steve has given his class almost a free period of sorts to just chat and muck about being that it’s so close to vacation and all, and ofc the topic of steve’s uncoolness comes up again, and he’s just all laughs and smiles not even trying to fight back while they poke harmless fun at him, just looking smug as shit knowing these kids are in for a treat.

the bell goes and they all start to pack up their things to leave, and steve calls out to get their attention, remember the homework, stay safe, have a good break and all that, but THEN who else walks through the classroom door but eddie. munson. heading straight towards steve telling him “hey babe, ready to go?”

“yep, just let me grab my stuff” steve says back, and the class is stunned silent. eddie walks over to steve’s desk and puts a hand on his back as steve is leaning over it putting books and pages into his bag, “you guys are all free to go” he looks up to the class, smug as ever.

as he and eddie head towards the door, steve stops and turns around back to his class one last time, whisper shouting over his shoulder “who’s cool now?”

eddie is laughing infront of him as they walk out together, listening to the classroom they’d just left erupt into chaos.

[blood-orange-juice]

I swear, Dottore was written by a former STEM graduate. People don't normally write mad scientists this way.

Whenever I try to dig into deep lore, his research repeatedly turns out to be among the most useful data I have.

I know a good study when I see one. I've been on both sides of the academic hiring process, I've written grant proposals and I've reviewed them and I've seen better scientists than me discuss them, so please understand how much weight I put into this: these are very good studies.

(except for, you know, ethics)

His research topics seem random but he actually pokes at the most fundamental questions of Teyvat with each one.

His Eleazar studies dig at the relationship between forbidden knowledge and dead gods (surprise: these are different things. I might have lumped them together if not for his notes).

Cloning himself pokes at the difference between machine and man, and also it's the technology of Eclipse Dynasty, Teyvat's main historical enigma. Have you ever wondered whether all ruin guards were men once? Or why did they switch from alchemy to ruin machines so abruptly? Or why they were cursed.

(I have a suspicion it also pokes at the nature of time and stories, the way he talks about a need for an ideal observer, and also the way Khaenri'ahn history went)

Delusions answer the question of why does Teyvat need Archons for Visions to appear and for humans to be able to use elemental magic. We don't know the answer but Dottore does.

I'm eyeing his artificial god because I don't think that what we saw in Sumeru was the final project. He seemed so nonchalant when it failed.

This is theoretical science at its finest. As a cherry on top, every project also yields practically applicable results.

He's a dream of every grant commitee.

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part II

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

"Can I hold her?" You dread the question. The way he asks it, the way he looks at you, the way you know he's going out of his comfort zone to come to your house, knowing you don't want him there.

"Sure." You put your pride aside, having the best interest of your baby in mind. The little girl is placed carefully in his arms, and it breaks your heart to see just how well she fits there, like a missing puzzle piece.

"She's so beautiful." He whispers, brown eyes fully focused on his daughter—his daughter. For someone who avoided the topic of family like the plague, the concept was still weird to even think about, despite the way the girl in his arms looked just like him when he was a baby, countless pictures hung around his house before they were permanently destroyed by his father in attempts to torment Mrs. Riley.

"What was that, Captain?" Simon crooned teasingly, leaning his head closer to the baby to try to understand the babbles that were slowly becoming more and more clear each passing week. Of course, she was still too young to talk, though the little girl loved babbling out at any given moment.

"She's lovely, isn't she? Shame she looks like you." Your words came out teasing for the first time ever since you saw him again, the banter in your previous friendship coming back for a second as he playfully glared down at you.

"Shame she acts like me too." He jested, the baby's mannerisms very reminiscent of his own. You poke your tongue out at him jokingly before looking back down at your daughter, the strings of your heart being pulled the more you stare at her. The little creature doesn't cry much, luckily, so you have all the time in the world to simply admire what you created— what you both created.

"Look at her tongue stickin' out." Simon pointed out to the baby's tiny tongue sticking out, a quiet laugh leaving his lips at the way she imitated you. You gently pinch her chubby cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead as a small laugh escapes you too. It's not hard for her to steal your heart, Simon noticed.

"Hush, darlin', daddy's busy flirtin' with mommy." He knows he's overstepping, but... it's worth the risk. He wants what you used to have back then, despite knowing he doesn't deserve it. He'll prove himself, Simon promised since the first time he saw you again.

"Just so you know, this—" You point between him, the baby, and you. "Doesn't mean we're together. Not a chance." You try to be stern, though you both can't deny the look in your eyes. Still, you resist, not wanting to be disappointed again. Simon leaving is an open wound that never healed.

"I know." He replied after a few seconds, not looking at you. His eyes were focused on the baby, holding her close to his chest as she cuddled up to him, quieting down from her babbling. He sat down on the couch, one of his fingers absent-mindedly running over the features of his daughter.

"I'm thinkin' of retiring within a year or two, once Makarov's dead." He starts hesitantly, not daring to look at you just yet.

"Do you think the three of us can be a family? I know I messed up, and I'm sorry." He finally looks up at you, though only for a short second before he's getting up again, gently putting the baby in her crib. He gives her a small plushie to cuddle, soft blanket wrapped over her tiny frame. He comes back to you, bare hands hesitantly reaching for yours before noticing you're about to recoil back. He doesn't blame you.

"I'll do anything." He swears, taking a step back to respect your personal space. You look away for a few seconds, arms crossed and a small frown on your lips. The thought of Simon leaving or dying is always there, eating at the back of your mind.

"You're retiring?" Is all you can ask, not bothering to hide the sheer curiosity and confusion. Simon has been a soldier since he was 18— it's all he knows. He has given up his entire life and family— why stop now?

"Yeah. Think it's time to slow down... actually live life a little, for once. I had to retire at some point, yeah?" It wasn't an easy choice at all. He has bled for the army countless times, lost his family because of it, lost so many allies he can't even count them in his head, yet the tiny girl was the one that made him realize enough is enough.

"Interesting." It's all you reply, eyes slightly narrowed as you look deep into his, seeking for any signs of hesitation or lying. You find none.

"I'm serious. I can be a father to her, and... a husband to you, if you let me. Just like you wanted." Just like you told him you wanted things to be. Just like he thought about before breaking up with you after 4 years.

"Don't have to give me an answer now, but I'm retirin' and that's final." He went to grab his backpack, pulling out a folder. He placed it in front of you gently before giving his sleeping daughter a soft kiss on the forehead, eyes fully focused on her as he memorized her features. It's gonna be a long time until he sees her again.

"I'm deploying in an hour." He mentioned, his back turned towards you as you read the papers. His will, updated to include your daughter. Previously, it was only you there.

"Not comin' back for a long while, unless things go well. If shit hits the fan..." He knows it's always a possibility when dealing with Makarov.

"You'll both have enough to live a good life." He was getting choked up. Not crying or tearing up, but uncomfortable enough that he was struggling to speak.

"Simon." You call out and he turns his head towards you, slight surprise in his features. It's the first time you call him Simon since he came back into your life— it used to be Ghost, much to his dismay, to place even more space between you. He never said anything about it.

"Something to keep your heart safe." You walk up to him, both of your hands holding one of his, placing a hard object in his palm. He looks down at it and his heart almost stops.

The ID bracelet your baby wore shortly after she was born. He nods his head once in acknowledgment, expression growing more determined as his fingers trace the outline of the plastic.

"Come back to her safe." Your hand hesitantly went to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead was against yours. He lets you, and you're both stuck looking deep into each other's eyes for what feels like forever.

"Come back to us." You plant a soft kiss to his forehead before letting go, basking in the slight sense of normalcy, ignoring your worthless pride for once. He leans down and returns the kiss to your forehead, nodding once. He stares down at you, memorizing your features the same way he did with your daughter before turning around and leaving, swearing to keep the silent promise with a newfound sense of determination.

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Taglist:

@skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf

[exhaslo]

Okay but like...

How about a werewolf!Miguel and reader who like to do role play in bed.

Like he comes home and walks through the bed room door to find reader in like red lingerie and a red hood.

Miguel is using all his inner strength to keep his from showing excitement as he crawls ontop of her like a predator. But his tail wagging aggressively behind him was a dead give away.

I feel like I had an idea for a Werewold!Miguel a while ago, but I can't remember what it was...Hopefully I will remember!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, roleplay, overstimulation, slight breeding kink

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Earth-40382

A mythical world where humans coexist with those of what people in other worlds call, 'monsters'. From vampires, to mermaids to even leprechauns, nothing was out of the ordinary in this world.

Not even your Werewolf boyfriend, Miguel O'Hara.

In this world, you were the Spider-Woman who fought crime. Miguel was your loving boyfriend who supported you. Even when you got recruited to the Spider Society; however, there have been times where he would get jealous of another man's scent on you.

You didn't mind because you loved seeing Miguel jealous, that and the sex was over the moon!

Which was why, when you saw a movie from one of the Peter's world, you had a devilish idea. You have told your boyfriend about how other worlds differ from yours greatly. Plus, whenever you could, you would sneak some movies and shows from other worlds too.

Recently, you showed your boyfriend movies about Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.

While taking offense to some of the topics in the movie, you couldn't notice how Miguel's tail wagged as the character with the red hood appeared.

This sparked an idea.

You had finished work early and had no missions or drama happening for the rest of the day. Well you hoped the later would still remain silent. On your way home, you stopped by the tailor, hoping that your new outfit was ready.

Thank god it was.

Unable to hide your glee, you took your new suit and hurried home. Miguel was still at work, so you had time to make the mood perfect. You were going to have fun tonight.

------

Everything was set. All you had to do was wait for Miguel to return home. You put on the cute red riding hood dress you bought, double checking to make sure it fit perfectly. This was something new and you hoped Miguel would like it.

"Mhm, what if he doesn't like it?" You muttered to yourself.

"(Y/N), I'm home." Miguel called out.

You jumped from hearing Miguel's voice, a little worried about the idea now. Taking deep breathes, you poked your head out from the bedroom door, spotting your boyfriend sniffing the dinner you made. His tail wagged and ears pointed upwards, which meant that he was in a good mood.

"Hm? (Y/N), why are you hiding?" Miguel asked with a chuckle as he caught your scent.

"I'm not hiding~ I'm waiting~" You cooed.

Miguel sensed your playful tone as he hurried over. You giggled to yourself as you crawled onto the bed, waiting for his reaction. Once Miguel opened the door, his eyes widen as you laid before him in the beautiful red hood.

"Welcome home, my big bad wolf~"

Miguel was at a loss for words as he drank you up with his eyes. His tail uncontrollably wagging as his pupils grew wide. Miguel slowly made his way over to you, climbing over your small frame compared to his.

"This is dangerous, (Y/N). I just wanna eat you up." Miguel said with a low groan, his head buried against your neck.

"I don't have work tomorrow, Miggy. Won't you be a good boy and play along?" You asked with a pout.

Miguel groaned once more before capturing your lips in a deep kiss. His hunger for you was strong as his tongue devoured your mouth with little time for you to fight back. His grip was heavy against you waist, his hands desperate to strip you nude.

As Miguel explored the cavern of your mouth, he broke free from the kiss to adore you. His fangs poking out while his pupils dilated. You had done your job and managed to get your boyfriend horny.

"(Y/N), I won't be able to hold back,"

"Then don't. You know I can handle it," You said, catching your breathe.

Miguel just chuckled as he started to lick and suck against your neck. His hands now massaging and groping your breasts while his bulge rubbed against your clothed cunt. You whimpered a moan as Miguel rutted roughly against you.

Honestly, despite your super powers from being Spider Woman, Miguel still dominated over you in bed. Your stamina was nothing compared to your werewolf boyfriend. You had learned the hard way whenever it was a full moon.

Your body had been sore for days.

Recalling the moon, your eyes widen as you tried to look over to the calendar beside the bed. You had forgotten to check when the full moon was! Gasping, you noticed that it was none other than today.

Of course.

"Mig-Ah~" You moaned as Miguel took your breast within his mouth.

You were starting to feel dazed as Miguel toyed with you with the dress. His fingers had already dipped down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles against your sensitive bud. His tongue roughly licking and sucking against your nipples, desperate to make you cum.

You tried to call out to your boyfriend, wanting to remind him of the moon, but you couldn't focus. Your core was burning up as you felt the urge to give into Miguel's movements. Your body arching from the pleasure.

"Ah~ Mhm~" You moaned as you cam.

"Haaaah, (Y/N), I can't hold back," Miguel groaned as he striped himself.

You wanted to marvel at his body which seemed to sparkle like a god. Your eyes focused downward towards his erect dick, already accepting your fate.

You weren't going to work for the next week.

"M-My, Miguel...what a big dick you have..." You giggled, trying to play along. Miguel just chuckled as he poked his dick against your entrance,

"All the more to breed you with."

And there it was. You gasped and moaned as Miguel thrusted his cock deep inside you. You hadn't even noticed when he ripped the panties off your dress. Tears formed against the corner of your eyes since the full moon affected Miguel differently.

"So tight. Just for me," Miguel whispered as he started to thrust into you, "Perfect for my babies."

"M-Miggy~"

You called out to your boyfriend, wanting to remind him to be a little gentle with you. Your walls were stretching with each thrust of his dick, bruising your cervix with every hit. You gasped and moaned with every slap of his hips, falling deeper into his lust filled attack.

"Little Red wants my babies, don't you? Such a naughty girl, my only girl." Miguel growled lowly as he pinned you into mating position.

You cried out as you felt Miguel reach deeper inside you. His words turning your mind into putty as you just agreed to his desires. Your body cumming and giving into his wishes, squeezing and begging for him to fill you.

"Miggy~ Ah~ R-Right there~" You cried out.

Miguel grunted as he slapped himself into you. Your cunt fluttering against his cock as your juices formed a white ring around his dick. All this causing Miguel to lose himself into you. His teeth marking your body as his thrusts became rougher.

"My mate. Mine." He growled, cumming inside you, "Not enough,"

"Hah, hah...M-Mig...F-Full...moo-ah~" You arched your back as Miguel kept thrusting into you.

Your legs were starting to grow weak and your mind was fading fast. Miguel tore your dress by your breasts, taking one with his mouth as he rutted into you.

"S-So....m-much~" You moaned, feeling his thick cock push his cum deeper inside you, "Ah~"

"Mine. Pretty red," Miguel grunted, capturing your lips in a kiss as he felt you cum once more, "Gonna have my babies, (Y/N). Don't waste a drop,"

You laid against the bed, a babbling mess as you let Miguel fuck you stupid. It was safe to say the dress worked...perhaps on a different night you would have enjoyed the roleplay a little more.

"Once more,"

Nights of the full moon were always restless nights if you couldn't give Miguel some sleeping pills. It had been a while since Miguel fucked you as rough as he did, but you never complained. You enjoyed being filled and loved.

"Aye, sorry (Y/N). I went overboard." Miguel apologized the next morning as he whimpered and showered you with kisses.

"It's okay....I should have paid attention," You whispered softly.

Miguel whimpered more as his ears and tail fell. He carried you to the shower to wash you up, wanting to take care of his precious mate. Rubbing his head against yours, Miguel gave you a sad puppy look,

"I didn't transform...did I?" He asked. You giggled softly, kissing his head,

"If you did, I'd be even more exhausted and full,"

"Sorry, (Y/N)," Miguel apologized once more. You pecked his lips as he washed you,

"You can apologize by getting me a new red dress."

"Of course!"

Another great thing about having a werewolf boyfriend....Miguel would always make-up to you after once of his restless nights.

Not that you complained.

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Hope you enjoyed!!!

[syrma-sensei]

→ Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.1: Tenderly.

pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!reader.

rating: explicit.

setting: pre-canon; in the early 1980s.

warnings/tags: Ben's foul mouth, sexual innuendos, misogyny, racism, antiquated mentality...

summary: soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes at Legend, “No, ain't doing another stupid song. Let Noir do that shit, the kid's been so fucking eager to see his star shine.”

“It wasn't that bad, people loved it. Your fans loved it, and they want more from you,” Legend tries to reason, “Plus, can't win a Grammy award for best record of the year if it sucks. Moreover, it's pretty popular among the young folks.”

The supe sneers, taking a gulp from his drink, he relishes in the burning in his throat even if it's momentarily, “The young folks can suck on my balls. Honestly, the fuck went wrong with young men these days, huh?” He clicks his tongue, “Christ, it is true; good times do create weak, sappy men.” His head jerks to the side sardonically, “Bunch of pussies seeking some women's attention with shitty songs and snivelling lyrics. Chicks don't want no men like that.”

“Yeah well,” Legend shakes his head, a sly grin on his face, “The world's changing, Soldier Boy, if you don't keep up with it, you might end up outdated, just saying.”

Soldier Boy raises a conceited eyebrow, “I'm America's son, hero of all heroes, an actual fucking legend; people practically worship the ground I walk on. In what fucked up sense would that seem to you outdated anytime soon?”

“Time is a tricky thing,” Legend answers with a sigh, “But only for us I presume. I mean look at ya, your sixty-fourth birthday was last month and you don't look a day past thirty. Some lucky bastard you are.”

Soldier Boy grins smugly, placing his glass on the coffee table in front of him where they sat in the living room of his personal quarters in Vought America tower.

Legend decides not to take the time topic any further, because he knows better, such discussions with the strongest supe ever lived are futile and meaningless. Furthermore, he doesn't want to poke Soldier Boy's massive ego, the latter isn't infamous for his temper for nothing. Legend is back to ground zero. So, he tries another way.

“You'll be doing it, though. It's your next mission.” The playful tone from Legend's voice vanishes, a more professional, assertive one replaces it, “It's nothing you can't do. Think of the gals who'll cream their panties when they hear your voice singing their favourite hit.”

Soldier Boy’s lips flip pensively, “Tempting. But still no.”

“Can arrange a collab with whoever female singer you want.” Legend tries again.

“Can ya pair me up with Monroe?” Soldier Boy gives his manager a shit-eating smile.

“For fuck's sake, Soldier Boy,” Legend says with a frown. The little shit, greatest superhero or whatever else, can honestly be a huge pain in his ass. “Be serious.”

“Oh, I'm dead serious,” Soldier Boy grumbles, “Can you do it or not?”

“She died thirty years ago for Christ's sake, of course I can't pair you up with her.”

“Then the answer's still no. I'd rather spend time rubbing one out at Pauline from Donkey Kong than contributing to entertaining a pansy dogshit audience.”

Fuck you. Legend really wants to spit it out loud but he carefully curbs himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Can't help but notice that making my work harder everyday is your new favourite sport, isn't it?”

“C'mon, don't be such a wuss,” Soldier Boy drawls, “Where would be the fun of an easy job? I'm doin' ya a favour; making you truly earn each penny you get paid. It's something we used to call 'hard work' back in my days.”

“Hard work can kiss my ass in that case,” Legend says humorously, shaking his head. Soldier Boy shares an amused chuckle with him.

“Seriously though—”

“Noir's cut out for that shit, not me. He'll be thrilled to do it.” Soldier Boy smirks wickedly as he interrupts him. The kid may not be funny. Fuck, he ain't, and that's precisely why he didn't get Axel Foley at Beverly Hills Cop — but it'd be hilarious to watch him fail in singing. Even if he didn't, nobody can beat Soldier Boy's performing talents.

Before Legend can answer he proceeds, “And tell him while you're at it that he has me to thank for giving him a window like that. He may as well make it fucking count. Make sure he does.” Legend shakes his head.

Soldier Boy and Legend continue to discuss business for another half an hour. Among the offers though; Nintendo wants to make a video game about Soldier Boy.

“For fuck's sake, do those Nips have any dignity?” Soldier Boy jeers.

“Well, it's all about business nowadays.” Legend says. “Arcade games have a large foot in the market, y'know. And, we're hiring many Japanese developers into our new entertainment department. So, I friendly remind you to tune down your slurs.”

Soldier Boy scoffs again. “I’ll see about that…”

When the talk is done, Soldier Boy dismisses the Director of Superhero Management of Vought.

“See ya at the wedding.” Legend says before he steps out of Soldier Boy's quarters.

“Hope fucking not.” The supe murmurs, taking the last gulp of his drink.

This evening Soldier Boy is to attend Dr. Jonah Vogelbaum's daughter's wedding as the guest of honour. The bride is a huge fan of his; her father has personally invited him to the wedding. What more honour can one get than having the greatest superhero ever lived as a guest at their wedding?

Soldier Boy heads to his dressing room to choose a formal outfit for the occasion. He's not going to wear his supe gear even though Vogelbaum made it very clear that he should. But Soldier Boy takes no shit from a nobody, and who the fuck Vogelbaum thinks he is to tell him what to do? Plus, that attire is for business, and him going to that wedding is a mere pursuit for pleasure. He isn't on some mission tonight but to find a good fuck for himself. Women, nonetheless, would throw themselves at his feet regardless of what he puts on. However, fancy tailored suits and bowties seem to pull women more effectively into his charm. When he clads in his supe suit, he's more intimidating; a god walking among men. Women would sigh at his sight and eye-fuck him, but beneath the layers of infatuation, he can perceive the lick of fear in their eyes. Like he's an invincible idol that cannot be touched by lesser hands. Not that he doesn't fucking relish in having such an impact, but he still prefers to pluck a catch in such occasions. Some nice chick who's eager to warm his bed in fearless vigour, some girl who can actually handle his raw strength and superhuman stamina. Especially when Countess won't be up his ass sulking like the bitch she is whenever he pays another woman his attention.

His relationship with Countess is nothing but for show. Pure business. Vought thought they looked good together and had an appealing chemistry in the public eye. Power couple and that shit. But in fact, Soldier Boy has no ounce of romantic feelings for her. Sure, they fuck around every now and then, but nothing more to add to it.

When he's fully dressed and spruced up he looks at himself in the full-length mirror and nods in approval. He'll definitely make the ladies' panties drop tonight.

Soldier Boy arranges a few lines of coke for himself on the coffee table. It'll help him  handle all of the cock-sucking kiss asses he's going to interact with tonight.

God fucking damn.

It takes the mightiest of his steel aplomb not to roll his eyes or hiss a curse. The moment he arrives at the wedding in the swanky hotel, he has everyone's attention all to himself. Guests swarming around him with hearts in their eyes, already forgetting about the wedding. Happy shrieks emit from the gals, and full admiration in the eyes of pals.

Ben puts on an expertly-feigned and charming smirk as he nods his head and shakes hands.

“Oh my Gosh, it's really him!”

A pretty woman in a dashing white dress wobbles down in his direction. The fucking bride. Soldier Boy's grin couldn't get any wider. The girl practically left her fucking husband standing with his groomsmen and came marching to him. Something huge and satisfying sprouts in the depths of his chest when he sees the young man briefly stink-eye in his way.

“If it ain't the queen of the show,” He drawls with a stentorian voice and a conceited raise of his brow. The bride holds a breath, her companion bimbos of bridesmaids sighing dreamily, “Well, congrats on tying the knot, darlin',” Large hand taking the bride's gloved one as he leans down to press a light kiss on her knuckles, and the girls squeal.

“Thank you, sir,” The corner of Soldier Boy's lips curls up into a half grin as he hears the groom's curbed voice, “A huge pleasure for us having the greatest man alive honouring our wedding,”

The man extends his hand out for a shake and Soldier Boy doesn't disappoint. “What can I say, Sonia is one of my best girls,” He sends a playful wink to the bride, and her groom's face rises in colour. However, she giggles timidly with blushing cheeks, and covers her mouth slightly.

“Thank you again, sir, for coming,” Sonia chirps, “Means a lot to us… to me, right, darling?”

Her new husband answers with tight lips, “Yeah, of course, please enjoy your time here, sir.”

Sure hell I'll do.

After signing some autographs, which mostly came from the bridesmaids on this special occasion, Soldier Boy lets out an elongated sigh before plucking a flûte of champagne from a server wandering around with a full tray of pleasantries. With the first sip invading his strong taste buds, he regrets it instantly. That shit is extra fruity with enhanced floral notes, it made his face controt in disgust.

“You're late,” The Doc's voice comes curt when he appears next to him, eyeing him disapprovingly. His unpleasing presence made the twitch of his face worse. The little shit. He should be kissing his ass and thanking him for wasting his time on this crap. Soldier Boy should hand it to him, though, he's got some balls. He scoffs. Ever since Vogelbaum gained Stan Edgar's infinite corroboration and support, he's become insufferable. And perhaps sometimes looming dangerously close to make Soldier Boy's hackles rise.

Ben grins indifferently at him, “Had a tight schedule,” Be glad I'm here you ungrateful old fuck.

Vogelbaum stretches his lips and nods, “You have my thanks anywho,” He grumbles, “Though I strictly told you to honour us with your presence in your suit.”

“Yeah, you did,” Soldier Boy replies with a shit-eating grin, “But wasn't in me to steal the light away from your breathtaking helluva daughter,” He patted the doctor's shoulder, “Cheer the hell up, Doc, it's your daughter's wedding and you have the greatest man ever lived as your guest!”

Ben can't endure another second of this man's company. He hands him the flûte and threads his way to the bar to order a drink. A real fucking drink. He sights a vacant stool next to a pretty woman who seems to be without company. He grins to himself when he catches a better angle of her. She is a beauty. Maybe she's the lucky one tonight. He smoothes his suit jacket and adjusts his bowtie before sliding nimbly on the stool.

He orders a strong liquor from the bartender and the beauty next to him cooes, “Make it two, please.”

He turns his head to her with an arched eyebrow, because fuck does he appreciate a woman who's not a lightweight, “Tough night?”

Her painted mouth curls up into an inveigling smile, “Should I ask you the same question?”

Brave. Tempting. He loves brave. Whereas most women are intimidated by him, this one here though, she looks unfazed. He likes it. He wonders what she's gonna sound when he's balls deep inside of her. Timid, brave, strong, weak, they all sound the same in his bed when he touches the magic button. One thing he was certain of was she'd sound pretty in her throes of pleasure.

He gives her figure a quick scan; she isn't one of bridesmaids that's for sure. She's wearing a forest green dress. Her skin is glowing beneath the velvet, and a pleasant fragrance emitting from her body. Her neck and ears are adorned with gold and rubies. She looks hazily beautiful.

“Groom's or bride's?” He asks when their drinks are served.

She flashes him a grin with those tempting lips, “Why wouldn't you hazard a guess like when you do on a minefield?” She winks, taking a gulp of her drink.

Interesting, he raises an amused brow. At least she ain't playing easy. He has to give her that; she's making his night way more entertaining. He likes to play prey and predator let alone when she's practically inviting him to do so.

A playful grin graces his lips, replying, “Can't risk bursting a pretty lady like you tho, can I?”

She lets out a small laugh, “God forbid, what kinda superhero would you be then?” His eyebrows knit together slightly as he watches her grabbing her purse and preparing herself to leave.

“It was nice running into you, sir,” She remarks, “But you'll have to excuse me…”

“Sure, sweet cheeks…”

She nods as she moves away with such grace and swiftness. Ben doesn't realise he was holding his breath until it clicks within him. Fuck, he forgot to ask her her name. But nothing to worry about, he catches her entering the powder room. In moments, he'll go after her and take this rather interesting conversation somewhere else.

He waits though. For more than fifteen minutes. Vogelbaum makes his way on the stage to raise a toast to his daughter and her groom, and he doesn't forget to give Ben a word of gratitude for being here. People cheer and applaud when the lights shine upon him, and he smiles and nods at them. On another occasion, he'd enjoy this to the fullest. His mind, however, is occupied by finding a pretty seductress. Can it be that she left? No, he doesn't think so. Fuck, if only he could distinguish her voice out of the many nattering and yapping voices despite his superhuman hearing. He considers asking Vogelbaum about her later. Maybe the man would be useful to him for once. But he will not have to, though.

The lights of the hall ebb away, save for the ones above the music stage.

A wide grin slips into his lips when he sees her behind the microphone, and their eyes lock for a moment. She gives him a teasing wink.

The little minx, he thinks.

Tender music emanates from the piano and she starts to sing with a silky voice.

The evening breeze caressed the trees tenderly

Damn, he likes that song. And her voice couldn't be more on brand for it!

The trembling trees embraced the breeze tenderly

He feels the said breeze of her cooes and it makes him shiver.

Then you and I came wandering by

And lost in a sigh were we

Ben conjures a vivid image of her sighs of pleasure.

The shore was kissed by sea and mist tenderly

She's the shore, and his mouth is the sea.

I can’t forget how two hearts met breathlessly

Your arms opened wide

And closed me inside

You took my lips

You took my love

So tenderly

A loud applause erupted from the guests when she finished, and Ben found himself amongst the riveted clappers.

God fucking damn.

Ben knows a lot of singers, hell, he works with them sometimes. But never has he ever heard such a mellifluous voice like this one! How come he hasn't known of her before? A new face, he guesses. He wonders if Legend knows her.

Ben stops clapping as his conversation with Legend that afternoon flashes through his mind. That's it.

Shortly after the wedding, Ben heads back to his quarters in Vought's tower, impatiently dialling Legend's number.

“That sappy song you wanted me to do—” He says right away.

“Well, good evening to you too,” Legend drawls from the other end, “As happy as I am to hear that, Ben, but I'm kinda fucking tired to talk business right now. Despite my marvellous traits, I'm still a human.”

“I'll do it.”

Soldier Boy could hear Legend switching the handset of the telephone to the other hand. And before the latter says anything he proceeds.

“Only on one condition...”

🦅 Next Chapter: A New Window.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

🦅 The Boys Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin...

[vampyrixdarling]

Hi I have a request! (I know it’s not the season but-I wanted to know) do you do Yandere Werehog Sonic? Of a reader who actually love’s werewolves?(if not that’s okay?)

— 「𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬」

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MASTERLIST

╰┈➤ [yandere] Sonic the Werehog x reader

: ̗̀➛ synopsis; How would yandere Sonic act to you in his werehog form?

: ̗̀➛ Type; Platonic/Romantic Headcanons

: ̗̀➛ warning(s); yandere behaviour, obsession, brief mentions of kidnapping, brief mentions of murder.

Likes/Reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

☆ Sonic in his Werehog form isn’t that different from his usual form. Other than the obvious changes in appearance, he’s still the same funny guy. Just.. a bit more huge and fluffier. Truth be told, he didn’t even know you liked werewolves.

☆ He found it weird— yet oddly comforting—that you didn’t really mind his new form. He loved how you didn’t mind his razor sharp teeth, or the unsettling growl tinting his voice every time he spoke. You loved to feel his fur, and occasionally poke at his fangs to see just how sharp they really are.

☆ Sonic as a yandere would be Clingy, obsessive, possessive & paranoid. This only gets worse when he’s a werehog, as these traits amplify significantly.

☆ Speaking of, I think his clingy and obsessive behaviour would become stronger during this. He already hates being away from you normally, but it just gets worse when he’s a werehog. His jealousy would also skyrocket. He’d also be way more protective of you.

☆ On the topic of jealousy, I don’t think he minds getting his hands dirty. If he feels he needs to, for any reason, he’ll do it under the guise that he’s protecting you. If it’s someone he doesn’t like, he’ll convince himself they’re bad news and need to be taken care of. He’s very protective of you, and he won’t let anything horrible happen to you, so why should he just stand by and let some guy who’s obviously making you uncomfortable talk to you? He’s a friend? Sure he is. You’re just blinded, surely. That’s the only explanation the werehog can come up with after all.

☆ I also think he’d inherit at least some animalistic traits and instincts. I think his sense of smell would be heightened, and so would his needs to protect you. He’d also be a lot faster and stronger than he was before. He’d become familiar with your scent rather quickly, and it’s like a drug to him. He craves you, to hold you close and claim you as his, but he knows better than to kidnap you. Not immediately, at least. Besides, he knows you can never outrun him even if you tried your hardest, much less be able to struggle against him. Sure you can try, but he’s not letting you go that easily.

☆ Taken over by his animal instincts, he can’t help but give you gifts of his own. It’ll start small, with little dead animals such as mice or even flickies. But then it’ll grow bigger, with every kill Sonic commits in your honor being delivered straight to your house. Whether you choose to accept his gifts or run away is completely up to you. But that doesn’t mean they’ll stop, nor will Sonic. He loves the chase, after all. Plus, he’d act like a wounded puppy if you found out it was him and expressed your distaste.

☆ I think he’d find it adorable how tiny you are compared to him. He loves to pick you up and spin you around. There’s just something about you being smaller that just drives him crazy. (No, not like that.) This would be followed by him squishing you in a hug, allowing you to be basically wrapped around his warm fur as he smiled, his sharp teeth allowing themselves to be seen. That’s one of his favourite things do to with you— to hug and cuddle you. It makes him think he’s protecting you, and allows him to be closer to you, both physically and emotionally.

[spoopyblues214]

Can I have the Rise boys with a reader that yaps constantly and dosent do a lot of touching other than small acts of hand holding, poking, and just being physically close-? Like can and will talk about anything under the sun, like cats, space, their toaster they named Bermuta whilst being next to Donnie while he’s working, or holding Leo’s hand whilst Helen he’s reading a comic, poking Raphs arms or cheek when he’s doing something, and their head on Mikey’s shoulder while he cooks/draws.

But on the rare occasion they’re silent, like dead silent, not even a hello or good evening just nothing. And they’ll sit down on the ground next to said turtle and lean their head on the turtles legs slash thighs and wrap their arms around them, looking really zoned out or just not there because they had been yelled at or got into an argument with someone else or their parents for being so animated and talking so much.

Also I really love your writing!! Small reminder to rest up and take care of your needs, have some roses for the road :333💐

I'm gonna take this as a headcanon request, and tysm for the request(s) and reminder! You're greatly appreciated. Yapper hcs here we go!

°•.•°

Raph

He doesn't mind one bit, your constant commentary reminding him of when he and his brothers were turtle tots

He finds it really cute, and is sure to listen just enough to keep up with what you're saying

Eventually he starts to prefer listening to you yap about your day over his music when he's working out

When you start poking him it makes him laugh, opting to lift you instead of the weights, which gets you squealing

The fact it brings him so much joy makes it all the more heart wrenching when you end up sitting on the floor in his room, quiet with distant eyes

When you grab his leg, his eyebrows knit together, confused even as he finds it a little endearing

He'd press for an explanation on what had you so quiet, voice quiet and gentle, and your answer would make him sad

If it was your parents, he'd offer a sleepover, preferring you stay at the lair then at home when things were turbulent

Leo

You and Leo could go on and on and on if other things didn't get in the way, he was just as talkative

That also meant he was especially attentive laughing and nodding and giving input

Even when he was reading or trying a new trick on his skateboard, he'd still have something to add when there was a pause for him to

He also rather enjoyed the little bits of affection youd offer, sitting right next to him when he'd read or on movie nights

The first time you're silent his beak wrinkles, as the quiet is the most unwelcome thing in the world

He's much more aggressive in asking what's wrong, refusing to drop it until you told him what happened

Once you would, he'd go off immediately, saying the person who told you to shut your trap was a loser and boring and all sorts of other things

Then, after getting through his own rant, he'd raise an eyebrow considering you're still attached to his leg, mischievous mind working before he'd start walking with you hanging on, trying to make you laugh

Donnie

He likely struggles with it the most, but the fact you speak so much means he doesn't have to worry about small talk

Even so, he mentally catalogues every topic of conversation, able to keep up with anything and everything you spew

He feels a little bit of accomplishment everytime he can add input based on things you've mentioned before

As for your less typical signs of affection, they matched him perfectly; he greatly appreciated being able to focus on his projects while you're nearby

But then one day you're not saying anything after a surprising amount of time

When he swivels in his chair, you're on the floor, and immediately he's set into a panic, asking what happened

He'd be pretty similar to Leo, insisting you tell him, and then scoffing and bad mouthing the plebeians who dared to raise their voice at you

As for your clinging to his leg, it's a little odd, but he never comments on it, just standing in place until you're done, maybe ruffling your hair

Mikey

Mikey loves talking to you, listening to anything and everything that comes from your mind

It makes him laugh, why wouldn't he enjoy it, especially when you hold his hands or sit in the kitchen while he cooks

Even when he's feeling creative, you still choose to sit with your side against his, more intent on whatevers caught your attention that day then what he's working on

When you started poking him, though, he'd do it right back, which would end in a tickle fight that he'd never lose

When you're quiet, it's a different story, and he's sensitive to your feelings

You hug his leg, eyes unfocused, making him frown and meet you on the floor, sitting with his knee up so you can keep hugging him

He wouldn't push on what's wrong, instead asking if you wanted to talk about it, and if you did he'd listen and offer his sympathies

If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd sigh but nod, and rub a hand over your back, talking himself to fill the quiet when you had nothing to say

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: E-Vite 4/20 [A New Hire interlude]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Word Count: 4,382

Summary: Ari’s mate finds herself invited to a brunch featuring more than just bottomless mimosas. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Drugs, Recreational Drug Use,  Mob AU, Age Gap, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: i’m so sorry this is so late! but (i hope) it’s worth it! takes place roughly a week or so before reader and Ari leave for Paris. a little character development i think you’ll all enjoy. divider by @firefly-graphics​. dedicated to @cocobutterqwueen​, who prompted this work ❤️

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

You purse your lips, your brows drawing together critically as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You heave a dissatisfied sigh, brushing imaginary dirt from the hem of your white tennis skirt. 

 “Too much?” You mutter, rocking back and forth on the heels of your matching ivory sneakers. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” The silver charms on your bracelet jingle softly as you begin wiggling out of your skirt, trying to undo the hook-eye closure on the back. You aren’t expecting to see your mate there, leaned in the doorway of the walk-in closet with an amused smile playing at the edges of his full lips. 

 “Third outfit in fifteen minutes, Sweetheart. You nervous?” There’s a teasing note in his voice that makes you pout, shaking your head even though it’s obvious he’s right.  

“No, I’m not nervous.” You continue fiddling with the zipper until Ari closes his hands around yours. It’s silly, to be this anxious about meeting a bunch of people you’ve already been talking to for weeks, but you are. Joining Moms of Riverside County had been a whim. At most, you had expected to find new dinner recipes, maybe a few fun things to do with Liam. Instead, you’d found… a community? 

 Some of the members were a little out there, but there were far more good apples than bad. People posted pictures, shared memes— not pronounced “may-mays” as Ari had pointed out, to your embarrassment. There was even a group-chat, which you had recently been invited to—✨🔥 Cool Moms of Riverside County🔥✨, which had given you a good laugh. You weren’t particularly active yet, but even so you had been tagged and invited to a private brunch being hosted by one of the members you actually talked to with some regularity. 

  Come if you can! We’d love to see you! Sabrina’s casual message outside of the group chat had left you scrambling to respond last night, typing out at least thirty messages and showing them to Ari before deciding on one. 

  Okay! Thanks for inviting me, I wold love to come!

 “I-it’s just a facebook group thing.” You mumble, and he chuckles, kissing your forehead. 

 “It’s okay to be a little nervous about meeting your internet friends for the first time.” He must feel it in the bond, the electric apprehension running through every one of your limbs and down to the tips of your fingers and toes. “Just be yourself, Sweetheart. Trust me, they’ll love you.” He turns to exit the closet, but pokes his head back in. “And I like the skirt.” 

 An hour later, you’re in the Jeep on your way across town, Sabrina’s address punched into your phone’s GPS. You’re trying to think of potential conversation topics in your head, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel. You’d already checked the list of people in attendance—only ten, including you. 

  Exclusive.

 Sabrina’s house is half an hour outside of the city, nestled in the rolling hills off the highway. The private drive is blocked off by a wrought iron gate that you have to pull up to an intercom to get open. You lean out of the window, jabbing your thumb into the button. 

  “Yes? Who is it? Shh, Adrian!”

 You lick your lips nervously. “Um, it’s uh, it’s—”

  “Oh wait, I know who you are! I can see you on the camera. Come on in, girl!” The intercom buzzes loudly and the fence slides smoothly out of the way. It takes a full three minutes to get from the gate to the house, and when you pull up, there’s a line of expensive looking cars parked along the side. You take up the rear, taking a deep breath before hopping out. Gravel crunches under your feet, and as you’re heading up the stairs the front door opens. 

 “OhmyGod Hi!” You recognize Adrian from his pictures, his long dark hair piled up in a bun on top of his head. “How are you? Come in, come in,” he motions you forward with a wide smile. In one hand is a half full glass of wine, and he hugs you with the other. Underneath his rather fruity cologne is a distinctly Alpha scent, and when you pull away, you spot half a ring of teeth marks on the skin beneath his collar. 

 “Good, thanks,” you sputter, stepping over the threshold. It’s a monster of a house, the ceiling looming far above you. The air is heavy with the scent of warm sugar and brown butter, like someone’s baking. You cast a look around the foyer, there are pictures of Sabrina with her children, her husband—who just so happens to be the headmaster of Liam’s school. You toe off your shoes in the entryway, and Adrian scoffs. 

 “Oh, you don’t need to do that. Sabrina doesn’t give a shit about mud on her carpets,” he laughs. 

 “Habit, I guess,” you say, your own nervous laughter ringing awkwardly in the air with his. “I, um, have-have you been in the group long?” The questions you practiced in the car tangle confusedly together on your tongue. 

 “Like three years, I think?” He waves his hand as he shrugs. “But it got a lot more fun when Sab starting modding. Way more jokes.” He fixes you with a sly smile.  “Let’s go  get you a drink!” You tail Adrian through the house, and the sound of voices gets louder and louder as you go. The long hallway opens up into a massive kitchen, and a gaggle of people surround the marble island in the center of it, only a few of whom you recognize. 

 “Ladies,” Adrian claps his palm against his khaki-clad thigh, holding his wine glass aloft as he raises his voice to get their attention. “And gentle man,” he giggles, placing his palm against his chest, “Our last guest has arrived.” You duck your head in embarrassment as a little cheer ripples through the rest of the attendees.

 “Sorry I’m late, I think the e-vite said 4:20—”

 “Girl please.” You recognize Keisha’s fiery orange locs from her profile picture. “I just got here ten minutes ago. Sabrina! Girl where are you? You know I don’t know where you keep the glasses in this maze.” By your count, there are about seven people here, eight, including you. “Are you sure she’s the last one, Adrian? I thought Barb and Hannah were coming, too?”

 “Kayla’s got chicken pox, they cancelled this morning,” Adrian replies. “They’re fine, though, said she’s holding up well. Marathonning every episode of Bluey, apparently.” As the two of you join everyone else at the counter, Sabrina appears in the opposite doorway. 

 “Sorry, I went to get a lighter. Glasses are above the sink—hi! I’m so glad you could make it!” Sabrina is tiny, strawberry blonde curls piled on top of her head and secured with the biggest, pinkest bow you’ve ever seen. She reminds you of a Malibu Barbie—mansion and all. Sabrina rushes over to you, quickly depositing the tray of what looks like cigarette papers and lighters on the counter before hugging you tightly. 

 “Thanks for coming!” Sabrina looks genuinely happy to see you. They make room for you around the island. “I just moved here like a year and a half ago and it is so hard to make friends.”

 You let out a relieved breath. “I know exactly what you mean.” You had been nervous about coming, about whether or not you were actually going to fit-in . It feels like there are huge holes where general knowledge should be about how to act, what to say. All the culturally relevant gossip you know hit it’s expiration date a decade ago—but surprisingly, you don’t feel as terrified of that as you had been before arriving. 

 The conversation flows easily, and you finish your first glass of wine with a comfortable, warm buzz. Adrian makes it his business to serve the cooled cookies, and when you take two, he laughs. 

 “Okay, girl, I see you!” You blush as you bite down, gooey chocolate coating your tongue. 

 “I didn’t eat before I came,” you admit, polishing off the first cookie and starting on the second. “These are so good,” you add, and Sabrina preens. 

 “Thank you! I baked them myself.” Sabrina ducks down beneath the island countertop, and you hear the sound of a drawer rolling open, and then shut again. “I will admit I found the recipe online, though.” As she stands, she tosses a plastic bag of—

  Oh my God.

  Your eyes widen as the baggie of weed lands on the table, and they dart worriedly to the faces of everyone else there. No one seems surprised or upset, in fact, Keisha claps excitedly. 

 “Good,” she chirps, plucking a single paper from one of the packs on the silver tray. “I’ll roll.” 

 You shift nervously on your feet, unsure of what to do. You’ve never smoked before—the most you’ve ever done is drink alcohol, and even that you don’t do with any regularity. Ari’s beers in the fridge at home remain mostly untouched by you, and the occasional glass of wine is the extent of what you generally allow yourself. Not that you mind, really—

 You tap jittery fingers against the granite, and Adrian clucks his tongue at you. 

 “What’s wrong, babes?” His eyebrows crease with concern. “Not a joint person?” 

 “N-no?” You force yourself to calm down—these are all adults, and it’s not like it’s… illegal here, per-say. “I um, I haven’t actually ever… smoked. Marijuana.” 

 “You haven’t?” Sabrina’s gaze moves worriedly from your face to the half-eaten tray of cookies and back again. “Are you… kidding?”

 You sigh, dragging an embarrassed hand down your face. “No. Ugh, my… my parents were um. Really strict. Sorry. I’m not a narc or anything, I just, um, never really—” Sabrina grabs your hand with a soft smile and the rambling word vomit screeches to a halt. 

 “You don’t have to explain yourself at all. I just, well, I kind of thought you knew, to be honest.”

 “Knew?”

 “Yeah, it’s said 4/20 brunch, on 4/20,” she looks at you with a leading expression, but whatever reference she’s trying to make flies entirely over your head. You raise an eyebrow. 

 “That wasn’t… the time?”

 “420 means weed girl!” Adrian yelps, doubling over with raucous laughter. He rests a hand on his hip as he gasps for air. “This was a weed brunch!” You pinch the bridge of your nose, groaning. “Oh my God the cookies! You ate two of them!” Cold realization crosses your face as you turn to face them in horror. 

 “There was weed in the cookies!?”

 —

 Ari is waiting for you in the kitchen when you call—he’d been expecting you home half an hour ago, and though he wasn’t worried, he was beginning to get antsy. The bond is open—wide open, in fact—and your hazy amusement permeate it like smoke. 

 “Hi, Sweetheart. You okay?” He asks, and you giggle. 

  “ I’m good. I’m so-oo-oo good, ” you sing, drawing out the syllables. There’s a loud splash, and Ari raises an eyebrow as you gasp loudly through the receiver. 

  “Don’t drop your phone!”

 “I’m not gonna dro-op it,” you hiccough, and Ari can practically hear your pout. “She said I was going to drop my phone, but I’m not going to drop it—”

 “Kitten. What is—”

 “Can you come get me?” You say, cutting him off in a dreamy, small voice. “I don’t think I should drive. The floor is moving.” Ari pulls away from the phone, staring at it with confused, narrowed eyes.

 “The floor is… moving.” He repeats your babble, just to make sure he’s hearing it right. You heave a relieved sigh, as if he’s validated some previously held suspicion. 

 “Yes. And I really don’t think I should drive. I’m all wet.” 

 “Okay baby. Can you send me your friend’s address? I’m going to call Martine over in case Liam wakes up, and then I will come and get you.” 

 “Okay.” You hang up with no warning, leaving your confused and exasperated mate staring at his phone. It takes several minutes—and quite a few nonsensical strings of emojis—before the address comes through. 

  She’s drunk, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. A little wry smile plays at the edges of his mouth as he buckles himself into the Bentley. She has to be. He’s not upset as he turns out of the driveway, skirting generously around Martine’s car. He’s glad you’ve made friends—the tight fist your father had kept around your life has left a lasting impression, one Ari is eager to erase. 

 The traffic choking the highway eases as he circles around the city, the exit dumping him out into the rolling foothills on its outskirts. The address you’d sent him is one that takes him into familiar territory, and when he pulls up to the gate, it buzzes open before he has a chance to push the button on the intercom.

 Ari exits the vehicle, taking stock of each car lined up in the driveway—including yours. He pauses at the front steps, listening, before making his way around back instead. The sounds of music and laughter grow louder as he rounds the side of the house. Your scent is here too, cut with others and diluted by the smell of chlorine and charcoal smoke. The yard opens up before him, carefully manicured green surrounding the deeply set in-ground pool. 

 “I don’t remember inviting the mob.” An amused voice makes Ari turn, before he scoffs. 

 “You wouldn’t have to, Sabrina, you married it.” He replies, shaking his head before reaching down for a hug. “It’s been a while.” Sabrina tokes long and hard on the joint in her hand before she laughs. 

 “You’re telling me. What are you doing here?”

 “My mate is here.” Ari peers over Sabrina’s blonde head, squinting at the pool. “The one on the pizza floaty.” 

 You’re sprawled on the double-wide rubber float, chatting animatedly to a man sitting on the pool steps up to his waist. Sabrina claps her hands, loud, animated laughter escaping her grinning mouth. 

  “That’s your mate? Oh my God. I think—I think I’m gonna pee.” She doubles over, while Ari frowns down at her. “Sorry. Sorry. I just—Odd couple. In my defense, she is the sweetest person on earth, and you’re… you.” Ari purses his lips.

 “Yes, well, you’re related to me,” he says dryly. “I still don’t think you’ve forgiven me for putting worms in your hair.” 

 “I haven’t. It was disgusting.”

 “I was eight.” 

 Sabrina ignores him, flicking a honey-blonde lock over her shoulder before making her way over to the pool. She wades in, waving to get your attention. You look utterly relaxed, your limbs draped loosely across the floaty. Your fingers and toes trail in the water as a you drift. You sit up as Sabrina approaches, and for a moment, your wild hair is framed perfectly in the light of the setting sun.

  Little lioness.

 The words she speaks to you are snatched away by the wind as Ari approaches, squatting by the edge of the pool. You’re wearing a swimsuit you no doubt borrowed from Sabrina, a bikini he suspects is at least one size too small. Sliding off the edge of the pizza-shaped float, you wade over to him, a dopey smile on your face. 

 “Ari!” 

 “Hi, Kitten.” He leans down when you reach wet hands up to hug him. Ari doesn’t mind, drawing his fingers affectionately over your bare shoulders and back as he presses his face to the side of your throat. He can’t help but check. Underneath the heavy scent of the chlorine—and a light coating of weed-smoke—is your true scent. Just yours, like he’d known it would be. He kisses your forehead. You giggle. 

 “I did what you said,” you whisper loudly. “It worked! I just said, um, that I never smoked, but then I ate the cookie—two cookies, I think. Maybe more?” The story devolves into meaningless ramble that leaves Ari laughing. 

 “I’m glad you’re having a good time, Kitten.” 

 “So this is the mate.” A lanky Alpha with a joint in a rather fancy looking cigarette holder appraises Ari, his other hand resting on his hip. He offers it to shake. “Adrian. The pleasure is yours.” Ari shakes it. “We did try to keep her out of the pool but she made some very convincing arguments.” 

 “I see,” Ari replies, chuckling as you give a stout nod from the pool. “She does have a habit of getting her way.” The resulting pout that forms on your full lips is worth the half-truth. You make your way toward the pool ladder, slipping once before finding your footing. You’re sopping wet, water running in rivulets down your soft skin. Up close, the swimsuit you’re wearing is even smaller, the fabric straining to hold back the supple flesh of your breasts. 

 Ari clears his throat, and Adrian snickers. He shoots the other male an irritated look, but Adrian only grins. 

 “I packed you a to-go bag, chica. It’s in your purse. You crazy kids have a good night.” He winks, and you wave absently.

 “You too, Adrian!” You turn back to Ari. “He’s nice, right?”

 “Yeah,” he replies, dragging his eyes up from the curve of your hip where the tie is sinking sinfully into the soft skin there. “Nice. Where did you get this?” He fingers the spaghetti thin strap at your shoulder. Sabrina sidles up next to you with a knowing grin, looping her arm around your shoulders. 

 “Well, I couldn’t let her just jump in, Ari.” He levels an annoyed glare at her. “What kind of cousin would I be if I let your mate ruin her nice clothes?” You gasp exaggeratedly. 

  “Cousin?”

 “First or second, or something like that,” Ari grumbles. She laughs.

 “Remind me to tell you the worm story,” she replies conspiratorially, clapping you on the back. “You go get your clothes.” 

 “I’ll be right back,” You press a kiss to Ari’s cheek. He can’t help but watch you walk away, the damp fabric wedging itself neatly between the cheeks of your ass. God-fucking-dammit. 

 “It reeks out here,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You’d better not be turning my mate into a pothead. I don’t want to have to get into weed distribution, you know how messy that is.” Sabrina waves a hand dismissively. 

 “Nonsense. Thad’s got a great thing going on with Rogers and Barnes on the east coast. He can cut you in if you want.” She winks. “I like her, you know. Genuinely had no idea she was, um. Yours.” Ari smiles, in spite of himself. 

 “It’s hard not to love her.” 

 Ari opts to wait out front, and he isn’t out there long before you stumble out clutching your purse. Your shirt is unbuttoned and untucked from your skirt, exposing the swimsuit you’re still wearing underneath. You look up at him apologetically through your lashes.

 “Thank you for coming, Ari, I’m sorry—”

 “Don’t be, Kitten,” he chuckles, helping you down the steps toward the car. “I’m glad you had a good time.” 

 You loose a high pitched giggle. “I had so-oo much fun. S-Sabrina’s so nice! She said she wants to hang out more. And—” You gasp, turning to him with a suspicious glare. “She said you put worms in her hair.” Ari laughs, shaking his head as he opens the passenger side door. “How could you do that?”

 “I’ll bet she didn’t tell you she dumped cat litter on my head the week before,” he replies, shutting the door before you can respond. He can see that you’re talking anyway, chirping brightly to yourself as Ari rounds the front of the car. He’s not quite sure why, but the sight of it makes his heart swell, even as he shakes his head. 

 “—gross!” You finish, looking at him definitively. 

 Ari slides into the drivers seat, nodding. “It was.” 

 “Will we come back for the Jeep?” You ask in a small, guilty voice. “I like the Jeep.” Ari nods, chuckling.

 “I promise.” The stoned, dopey smile you shoot him in response makes Ari wonder just how many “cookies” you’d eaten. You slump lazily in the passenger seat, stretching like a cat as he pulls out of the driveway. You sit there, blissfully unaware of the way that fucking bikini is eating away at his nerves. You drag a hand across your bare midsection, absently playing with the loose bikini strings.

 Of course you can’t see the way the edges of your dark, puffy nipples spill just over the edges of the triangular scraps of fabric. Sabrina’s attempt to help you maintain your modesty has done exactly the opposite, leaving you so indecently exposed that Ari finds himself wondering how the soft, plump lips of your cunt even fit in the bottoms. 

  God-fucking-dammit.

 Ari knows he should be focusing on the sparsely populated road, on the hour long drive it will take to get you home— not on the way he can see the pebbled outline of your perfect fucking nipples through that flimsy excuse for a bathing suit. Ari dares to glance in your direction again and groans quietly. You’re running your hands along your bare thighs, giggling and gasping at the sensation of your palms on your own skin. 

 “Ari, I didn’t know I was this soft,” you mumble, your eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Did you know that?” 

 He scrubs a hand down his face. 

 “Jesus, Kitten, you trying to kill me tonight?” He moans, dropping his head back against the seat. You lean over the middle console, an apology already on your trembling lips. 

 “I’m sorry.” It’s like you’re completely unaware of it, the thrall you have him in as you rest a warm little hand on his thigh. “How can I make it better?” 

  Martine’s fine at the house with Liam, right?

 —

  “Oh-oh God!” Your face is hidden, pressed against the hood of the car. Ari has your trembling legs spread as far apart as he can manage, his cock disappearing between the cheeks of your ass. “F-feels— oh— ” You’re even less articulate than usual, your sopping, needy cunt squeezing down around him like a vise. 

 Ari’s got your little white skirt rucked up around your waist, and the offending bikini pulled to the side so he can watch you take him. Seeing your pussy stretched open wide and straining around the veiny length of his cock is almost as good as feeling it. Ari doesn’t resist the urge to crack the palm of one hand against the cheek of your ass. You squeal, and God the way you fucking clench down is almost enough to make him bust right there—

 “Ari!” His name sounds like a desperate prayer on your lips. You’re practically writhing underneath him, your hands forming little fists on the hood of the Bentley. “G-God, feels—” He loves you like this, the words all gibberish on your loose tongue. “Fuck!”

 He especially likes it now that you’re high, hoarse curses falling from your lips as you raise yourself up onto your tip toes trying to meet his thrusts. It’s like some of your carefully crafted filter has come apart, allowing through the Kitten that isn’t afraid of judgment or reprisal. 

 “M’so full,” you whine pathetically, peering over your shoulder at him pleadingly. “More?” He isn’t expecting your breathy, perfect little plea, and the softly uttered request seems to go straight to his cock, and it throbs hard inside you. Ari groans, his head lolling back on his shoulders as he stares unseeingly at the night sky. “More, please.”

 The knot at the base of his cock is already starting to swell, and Ari clenches his teeth. Bracing one hand between your shoulders as he anchors the other to your hip. 

 “More, Kitten?” He asks, chuckling darkly. “Greedy girl. Can you even take more?” Ari draws back until the head of his cock pops out, and he slaps it wetly against your cunt. Slowly, he presses himself into the fucked-swollen mess of your pussy. He doesn’t stop when you begin straining against his knot, murmuring dark words of encouragement. 

 “You asked for this,” he reminds you, grinning when your forehead hits the hood with a thunk, and you let out a muffled cry. Ari joins you, a harsh growl tearing from his throat as his knot pops inside. “That enough, Kitten?” He asks through clenched teeth. “Your hungry fucking pussy finally full, Sweetheart?” 

 You push back against him, a lewd squelch filling both your ears. That’s enough of an answer for Ari. He growls, clamping down on the back of your neck with one hand as his fingers sink deep into the meat of your hip. His thrusts are shorter now, but fuller , and each one leaves you mewling and crying.   His whole world is condensing down to a single point. You’re all that matters, you, this moment, his cock buried in your slick, sweet core—

 “Oh f-fuck, God, Ari, c-cumming—” The nonsense that you manage to string together only barely precedes the way your cunt clamps deliciously around him like a hot wet fist. The pleasurable buzzing in the back of Ari’s skull becomes unbearable, traveling down his spine and shooting like electricity to the base of his cock. 

 Ari groans, bending over your back to sink his teeth into your shoulder, holding you still while he cums. He still doesn’t know how to explain how right it feels to press inside you and let go—like he’s supposed to. Fuck and the feel of you—Ari groans as you shift, your velvet walls shifting against his still hard cock. He leans back, releasing you so that he can stare appreciatively at your cunt.  Lips bulged out from the heavy girth of his knot, a mixture of both your fluids leaking out around it. 

 You peek over your shoulder at him, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Your eyebrows are creased together, your glassy eyes shining with real worry. 

 “Ari?”

 “What’s the matter, Kitten?”

 “I think I left my phone.” 

  end

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[lqveharrington]

Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

5: The Winner’s Guilt (Series Masterlist)

summary: Your father makes another deal, and Coriolanus Snow wins the 10th Annual Hunger Games, but Dean Highbottom won’t let him feel too good about it… Especially when he knows his weakness.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: reader’s dad being a dick, major fluff at the beginning, allusions to sex, kissing, death, mentions of murder, yelling/screaming, mentions of cheating, mentions of heartbreak, italics are flashbacks, bold italics are Coriolanus’ thoughts

word count: 4.4k+

a/n: oopsies, sorry for the long wait 😔 ALSO THIS STORY IS NOT OVER YET, DONT WORRY

Waking up and hearing your father’s nonsense about the Hunger Games was not the best way to start your morning as a mentor. Especially when your tribute had just survived the blood bath by the skin of her teeth and an ally. You really did not want to stay home any longer, but your father insisted that you stay and listen to his thoughts about the games, asking about your own thoughts and strategies on how you were going to get the young twelve-year-old to win.

“Mhm.” You nod mindlessly, poking your food in boredom. You were grateful for the food made by your wonderful staff, but your father was just ruining it.

“Be glad your sickly tribute had an alliance with the other District Eleven tribute. She would have been dead otherwise.”

You hum again, sipping from the tea this time. It took at least ten minutes before he switched the topic, something that made you want to listen to his speech about the Hunger Games instead.

“How are you and that young Snow doing?”

The question was out of the blue, which meant it was attached to something much worse afterward.

“We’re doing as fine as it always is.” You meet his eyes, the weight of your rose charm suddenly becoming prominent. “Why?”

“Can’t I take interest in my daughter’s relationship with a boy who isn’t worth anything?” Your father raised his brow, an entitled chuckle following. You glare at him, gaining his attention back. “You know his songbird won’t win. She barely escaped. And she’s friends with the other tribute who got bitten in the neck. They won’t make it out even if they tried. Plus, I know he would do anything to win, even if it means breaking a few rules—”

You shake your head, “Is this going anywhere? Or are we going to keep talking about the games?”

“Ah, you take after your mother.” He smiles at the memory before switching back to his authoritative tone. “I was speaking with Porcius Creed about his eldest son—”

“Father—”

“---And if all else fails with young Mr. Snow, he would be delighted to have his son wed you.” He finishes, looking at your expression with amusement. “What?”

“I hate you.” You seeth and push away from the dining table, taking your coat and leaving the Lovett Manor.

Your father had been talking about setting you up with another one of your peers after the games. You didn’t expect him to already arrange something without knowing if Coriolanus was going to win or not. Sure, his chances were slim, but you had the hope that he would win, even if that meant your tribute couldn’t. And it was hell knowing that if he lost you were stuck with Festus for the rest of your life. He wasn’t as bad as the other prospects your father had brought up, but there were others more worthy of you than Festus.

Including Coriolanus Snow.

There were several times when you knew you wanted to marry Coriolanus. You could be separated from him for months and still want to marry him. It was something you believed that would never change.

Lovett Manor was filled with the most prestigious families of the Capitol. Your father had invited almost everyone he was business partners with and those in control of the government. He had left little invitations for you to give out as the majority of them were already well acquainted with you through the Academy. Luckily, you were able to sneak an invite to the Snows, having the power to veto your father’s own opinions.

After all, it was your eighteenth birthday.

However, you had zero say in how your party was supposed to go. Your father had planned everything and hired the best staff to make the house and ballroom presentable for your birthday. All you did was watch from the living room and pick out a dress from the dozens your stylist brought in.

And with all the families present in the grand ballroom, you thought it would be best to sneak away while the party was still hot and heavy, taking quick steps up to your room.

Entering your room, you swung open the balcony doors to reveal the vast garden looming over the backyard. You could still hear the muffled songs playing from the ballroom from below as you leaned against your balcony’s concrete railings.

It felt like only a few minutes before someone came knocking on your door, making you release a heavy sigh.

“Yes?” You ask, body still facing away from your room.

“I haven’t seen you all night, beautiful.” Coriolanus entered, watching your eyes light up as you whipped around.

You smiled and let him pull you into an embrace, wrapping your arms around his torso. You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He held you by the hand and twirled you around, admiring your figure. “You look stunning.”

Truth be told, the dress and makeup were truly beautiful. You wore an off-shoulder, silk red gown that cascaded down to the ground, with ruby earrings dangling and shining from the moonlight. Your lips were painted a daring red, matching your complexion beautifully. Not to mention the necklace hanging around your neck, which was Coriolanus’ favorite jewelry you’ve ever owned. But really, he loved the way you looked all the time.

“You look so beautiful.” He breathed almost intimately, his blue eyes now focusing on yours.

You continued to smile brightly, taking note of his matching outfit. You wondered how much Tigris had to spend just so he could look proper at your party. The thought gnawed in your mind for a bit before you snapped back, coming up with a quick compliment to cover your silence. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

A new song started up in the ballroom. A slower song preferably for the couples and single men your father wanted you to dance with. Coriolanus tilts his head at the music, a playful glint in his eyes as you raise a brow in curiosity.

Coriolanus formally extends his hand out to you, “Would you like to dance, beautiful?”

You shake your head with a small smile, placing your hand on top of his. “Of course, Coryo.”

He kisses the top of your hand and pulls you into a graceful waltz. One hand was placed delicately on your waist while the other held your hand that wasn’t holding onto his shoulder. He guided you effortlessly across your balcony, matching the song’s pace. You two spoke about your day and brought up memories from the past. It was refreshing to talk to someone you genuinely wanted to talk to.

“Thank you for the flowers.” You mention, remembering the orchids that were sent up to your room earlier while you were getting ready, Coriolanus’ handwriting scrawled on a piece of paper attached to it. “I love them.”

“I have another gift, but that won’t come until later.” He winked as he spun you around, watching your face flush red as he caught you.

“I hate you.” You bite back a smile, your heart wanting nothing more than to kiss and marry the man in front of you. You promised yourself you could never actually hate him. You knew there would never be a chance where you could have the strongest emotion to hate him.

He let a small smirk slip through, “You love me.”

“Yeah, I do.” You reply with the softest voice.

Coriolanus dipped you as the song came to an end, holding onto you tightly. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You smiled widely at him, knowing that he was the only one who completely swept you off your feet.

He pressed a loving kiss to your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. It seemed like fireworks went off in your stomach as the actual fireworks went off in the night sky, signifying the end of your birthday party.

“And Happy Anniversary,” Coriolanus spoke when he parted your lips briefly, gazing into your eyes filled with adoration.

By the time you snapped out of your memories, you arrived at the Capitol’s Citadel. You were unaware of how long you were disassociated with the world around you until the horns honking behind you grew more aggressive and loud. As you left the car and entered the impending building, whispers were going around of another tribute’s death. Many suspected it was another one of Coral’s, but you knew the truth and didn’t dare say a word about it.

Soon enough, Lucretius Flickerman announced the death of the tribute.

“Wakey wakey, my Capitol friends! I’m Lucky Flickerman and welcome to day number two of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games.” He introduces himself to the camera once more. “Now while most of you were getting your beauty sleep last night, something scintillating occurred. Bobbin, from District Eight, slaughtered.”

The screen flashed to the boy’s frozen body, the buzzer indicating the official death.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resting your hands on the back of your seat. You glanced around the huge room, looking for a particular blond when Lysistrata and Festus came over to where you stood, supposedly finding someone new to rope into their conversation about the fallen tribute.

“We have a question for you.” Festus clasped his hands together and pointed toward you. You blinked for a second, hoping that he wasn’t going to bring up anything your father recently told you. “Why do you think they wouldn’t show us the death of the young boy?”

You shrug and slip into the mask of a Capitol student with no care after realizing Festus didn’t know what his own father roped him into. “Maybe they lost the footage.”

“How can they? They were live all night.” Lysistrata furrowed her brows, glancing up at the screen. “Something is off.”

“Maybe they’re building suspense, Lyssie.” You silently thank whoever was in charge of the program for changing the camera feed. “Who knows what could have happened. Maybe the death was just too brutal.”

Festus shook his head like your thought wasn’t something practical. “Obviously it was one of Coral’s. Everyone else we’ve talked to said that no one else has moved throughout the night except her and the rest of her pack.”

You zoned out from their conversation as they started to argue more about the young boy, picking at your nails. The sounds around you meshed into one while the Citadel filled with Academy and University students, along with families of the remaining mentors. With your distracted self, you hadn’t realized Coriolanus arrived and was well aware of your disassociation.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Coriolanus slipped an arm around your waist as he left a quick kiss on your cheek. He quickly noticed you being absent-minded, rubbing soft circles in your waist. “What’s wrong?”

You hummed, taking his hand and lacing them together. “A lot of stuff.”

“You can’t be vague.” He clicks his tongue and lets you mess with his fingers. “What happened?”

You tilt your head up and peck his lips. “I love you a lot, you know that, right?”

“I do.” He murmurs, looking between your eyes. “I love you more than you realize… What did your father say to you?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the mention of your father, cursing your boyfriend’s quick judgment. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fine.” He gave you another quick kiss, unbuttoning his blazer. “What are they talking about?” He titled his head to the duo to your right.

“Tribute’s death.” You loop a finger around your necklace for a bit and then move your hand over to Coriolanus’ left shoulder, gently massaging as he tenses. “Are you feeling any better?”

He shrugs, “Hoping for everything to end today.”

You give his shoulder one last squeeze, “You better sit down. Flickerman looks like he’s gonna murder Festus for standing around.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” Coriolanus removed his arm from you and placed a brief kiss on your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You reciprocate.

Truly, you found it strange that Coriolanus became more attentive and doting toward you recently. But who were you to complain about your boyfriend’s sudden increase in affection?

You took your seat as the screen flashed to Jessup and Lucy Gray down in the same spot from last time. You weren’t interested too badly until the male tribute moved to attack Lucy Gray. You weren’t expecting it, nor did everyone else watching as gasps emerged from the stands. Everyone was fixated on the screen as the camera switched to the main part of the arena, capturing the chase.

“Jessup, going for Lucy Gray.” Flickerman commentates, more gasps and murmurs coming from the stands inside the Citadel.

You shifted your gaze over to your right, watching Coriolanus converse with Lysistrata. You knew he was trying to talk his way into getting his tribute to survive, but you were silently hoping Jessup took out Lucy Gray. You weren’t one to wish death upon someone, but the little memory locked in a chest started to break open the more you thought about your father’s words. However, you knew Jessup was done for the second you caught Lysistrata giving in to Coriolanus’ efforts.

She sent a drone out with water, the glass smashing against the tribute’s chest which sent panic to course through his body. Everyone watched as he tried to balance, but he fell over the concrete ledge and promptly died, the buzzer indicating the time of death. You watched as your peer walked out of the room with a broken face, avoiding the eyes of her classmates.

Your eyes flickered back to the screen as you heard the crowd’s murmur increase in volume. Lucy Gray was surrounded by Coral and her group and it felt like she had lost the game as more donations started to roll in for the other tributes. There were positives and negatives to Lucy Gray’s life in the games. If Lucy Gray died now, you would be stuck with Festus. If she survived and won, you were sure you would be stuck with seeing red everywhere, even if you had Coriolanus to yourself.

And as if he heard your thoughts, Festus looked over at you and then to Coriolanus, watching both of your faces to find any change emotionally.

“Oh, look at this! The pack doing what they do best, packing it in!” Flickerman switches his gaze over to the mentors as he hears a computer switching keys. “Mr. Snow going for his community packages.”

You reach up for your necklace’s charm, watching as the horrid drones come pouring into the arena and smashing into the tributes. You were thankful that Dill was safe and away from the chaos that happened within a span of just a few minutes. If anything, you would rather have Dill stay hidden for the rest of the games and let everyone else fight for their lives.

“Hey! You can’t attack the tributes.” Vipsania stood from her seat, all heads turning toward her and then to Coriolanus.

“I’m just sending water.” Coriolanus shrugs, looking at you for a split second in amusement.

Honestly, you were on the verge of letting a small laugh out at his response. Of course, he used the drones to attack the tributes, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them, right?

Instead of looking back at the screen like the rest of your classmates did, you let your eyes train on Coriolanus. He was just so immersed in the live feed and you couldn’t help yourself. His tongue would slightly poke out and his eyebrows would furrow every couple seconds. It would have been cute if you weren’t mentoring the Hunger Games or if there wasn’t a buzzer just now.

When you said you were going to study with Coriolanus, you weren’t thinking that you were going to study for the next four hours after class ended. You studied for about thirty solid minutes before you started to lose focus.

You shifted your attention from the Latin textbook in your lap to the blond next to you. You smiled at the sight. He was focused on reading a passage in Latin that he didn’t realize his tongue was poking out with the scrunch of his nose and brows.

“Coryo.” You shifted from your spot on his bed, sitting up as he hummed. “Do you know you look like an angry kitten when you read?”

“Pardon?” He looked up at you, watching your eyes shine in delight.

“Well, you make a face that looks like an angry kitten whenever you focus on something…” You hide your face behind his shoulder, suppressing a short laugh. “Never mind.”

Coriolanus swore his heart skipped a beat at your laughter, falling deeper and deeper in love with you each day. “Beautiful, I won’t be compared to an angry kitten outside of this conversation.”

“Fine.” You bite back a smile as you peer up at him from your spot. “But I’ll be thinking about it whenever I see you do it. It’s cute.”

He felt the tips of his ear warm at your words, “It’s not cute.”

“It is.” You peck his cheek. “It so is. I’ll take a picture of it one day and print it for you.”

“Again, falling. Ending a tribute’s game.”

Your attention shifted back to the screen as Lucy Gray ran up into the fallen stands and into the air ducts. The second she locked herself in there, another buzzer went off moments later.

Coral killed one from her pack. Despite having an alliance together, she had zero hesitation to turn against someone to prove her worth and not let anyone get in her way.

“Seven tributes remain. Merciless Mizzen, cunning Coral, treacherous Treech. Dill, Reaper, of course, and the little ones. Little Wovey and Lucy Gray.”

You blew a small breath out, watching as Coral and her pack left to get Wovey. You felt bad for the poor girl, but you would rather have them after anyone else who wasn’t your own tribute. You shut your eyes for a moment, but you could sense something bad was about to happen with all the silence filling the room.

“And who do we have here? Ah, it’s ill Dill. Tuberculosis on legs.”

Your eyes immediately shoot open as you hear your tribute’s name being called. You wish she could have at least waited for Reaper to go with her out in the arena. She had no weapon, and it wasn’t practical to be in the Hunger Games without a weapon. You were just praying that no one would see her, hoping that she could get the water and go.

She looked around the arena before taking a sip from the water left by the pack. Dill placed it back down and coughed a fit, something that confused you. She was coughing a lot more than the other day. You creased your brows as she moved to lay down on the ground, continually coughing. You swore she was better before she entered the arena. And if she wasn’t, you gave her medicine to take during the games.

Coriolanus dropped his gaze down from the screen and glanced over to you, knowing the truth of what happened to the girl. He knew that your tribute already lost the games by drinking the water.

You watched as Reaper came running across the screen, shaking her awake before dread spread through your body as he flipped her over. He screamed, looking around the arena.

“No no no no no no.” You mumble, eyes glazed over. “How did that even—? No no no no no—“

The buzzer went off. Officially indicating the death of your tribute. You bit your tongue and left, not daring to look back at the screen where your tribute lay dead or meet your lover’s eyes which were burning into you.

You stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall, holding back sobs for the young girl. You promised yourself you would get Dill out, and you couldn’t even keep it. Mentoring the games increased your hatred for them, but the deaths of each tribute shot the hatred far past the point of return. You wiped stray tears that managed to get away from you, the tears darkening your red Academy uniform. You were about to head back to Lovett Manor when you heard someone clearing their throat beside you, making you freeze your movements. You saw Dean Highbottom waiting for you with what seemed like a videotape in his hand labeled: NIGHT 3, CAPITOL ZOO.

Fireworks went off in the early evening as Coriolanus entered one of the most important Capitol buildings. He was instructed that his tribute was waiting for him inside, but he still wanted to find you. You were not present when he won the Hunger Games and no one knew where you went.

Until now.

“Lucy Gray?” Coriolanus called out in the monumental room, the peacekeepers escorting him waiting by the front. “Lucy Gray?” He called one more time, voice echoing.

He slowly spun around looking at the table in front of him, the color draining from his face as he saw his father’s handkerchief and his mother’s compact. Albeit confused as to why a television was placed amongst them.

“Coriolanus.” Your own voice reverberated around the room, entering the room with your own pair of peacekeepers.

“Beautiful,” He loosened his tense shoulders, smiling at your presence. “Where were you? I—“

“I heard you won.” You frown, walking over to him. “Congratulations.”

He creased his brows at the way you carried yourself. It was different. “What’s wrong—“

“You cheated, Coriolanus.” You glance at the items laid across the table, tapping the videotape the dean gave you against your palm. “You know that’s against the rules.”

“Yes, but—“ Then he cut himself off as he noticed your puffy, bloodshot eyes. He knew were crying for a while if they had gotten to that state.

“You cheated.” You said again. This time, your voice trembled at the thought. “Was I ever going to know?”

Coriolanus kept quiet, waiting for you to continue. There was no way you knew about it… Right?

“Coriolanus, when?” You quickly wipe a falling tear, keeping your composure up.

“Never.” He spoke as he reached out to you. “But it was all for you! I don’t���“

You pull away from his touch, shoving the tape down onto the table. “Play the tape, Coriolanus.”

He sighed, taking the recording and putting it inside the slot, the television coming to life.

The video that was played was a recording from the Capitol Zoo. And according to the timestamp at the top, yesterday.

You couldn’t watch the screen even if you tried. You knew that if you did, there was no coming back from breaking down and sobbing for what seemed like the nth time today.

“Beautiful…” Coriolanus runs a hair through his hand, watching the tape. “That kiss with Lucy Gray meant nothing.”

Apparently watching it happen and hearing it coming from your lover’s mouth was entirely different because you snapped the second he mentioned those three words in one sentence.

“You kissed Lucy Gray, Coriolanus!” You yell, tears now free-falling from your face. His eyes widened at your tone, looking between your fiery eyes. “You kissed her so you could win! You manipulated the poor girl! You thought I wouldn’t find out about this? You gave her your mother’s compact filled with poison and it killed my tribute! It’s not—”

You took deep breaths, shutting your eyes as your heart slowly broke with each second passing he said nothing.

“Do you want to know why I was upset earlier, Coriolanus?” You quickly wipe a tear. “Because my father and Festus’ father agreed to let me wed Festus if you didn’t win. You won, but at what cost?”

He wanted to comfort you, but the second he touched you, it was all over. He knew that his touch would be unwelcome.

“You kissed Lucy Gray when you promised I was your top priority.” You disregarded the few tears that continued to pour out of your eyes. “You kissed her when you promised wherever we go, you stayed with me.” You bite your lip, looking down at the floor, almost whispering the next words. “You kissed Lucy Gray when we were together like I meant nothing to you.”

“Were?” Coriolanus questioned your use of the past tense to reference your relationship status. “What do you mean were?”

You flicker your eyes up to his, “As in we were together. Coriolanus, you cheated on me. And no, we can’t just fix this issue this time or forget about it. You could have come up with any other way of getting Lucy Gray to win, but you chose one that could hurt me…” You crease your brows at the inflection of your words. “And it did. You think you did the right thing, but choosing to kiss someone else to be with another is not how this works.”

“Beautiful…”

“I can’t.” You murmur, unclasping the necklace off of you and handing it over to him. “You can’t expect me to stay with you after you cheated on me. After you reassured me that you weren’t acting a certain way with Lucy Gray.”

He paled as the necklace fell into his palm, the weight of the silver burning his hand like the burden it was. “You know I never meant it like that. I wanted to win for you.”

“I know.” You gave him a bitter smile at the thought of your father’s deal, calming yourself from your earlier reactions.

Coriolanus wrapped his fingers around the hot necklace, watching you become more and more distant with him. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know.” You replied as the peacekeepers signaled for you to wrap it up. You let out a shaky breath as one last tear fell from your face, getting ready to leave before Highbottom came.

Coriolanus couldn’t help but wipe it off, causing you to frown at his cold touch. “Please.”

You take a hold of his hand, squeezing it. “Coriolanus… It’s not fair to myself.”

Before you could leave, Coriolanus pulled you into his arms, one hand holding your hip while the other held your back. He kissed the top of your head, “I’m sorry, beautiful.”

You choke back a sob that threatened to escape, bringing your hands to your mouth. You knew you had to leave, but it wasn’t like you could leave his embrace. It gave you comfort even if you didn’t want it from him. And he held you. After everything, you let him hold you tightly.

Everything was wrong. The wrong place at the wrong time. And the only thing that both you and Coriolanus felt as you left him was fallen snow melting on burning silver.

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[emmyrosee]

i am back once again and reading your atsumu and kuroo works 💪💪💪

personal favs are probably dad!au’s because OH LY GOSHSKE THTEYRE SO CUTE like no need to make me scream at the most random points throughout the dayJEJSSJJSDJS

idk. i DID have a random thought when reading one of the atsumu stories (i think it was the one where hisako was being a little rat???) and i wanted to share.

the thought was about hisako randomly calling her father old and i imagined papa tsumu getting all insecure and sulky whenever the topic of age comes up. bro literally ends up checking for white hairs in the mirror even though he knows damn well he just dyes over them, even checks his behaviour to see if he does anything that’s considered “old school” iykwim ?? AND HISAKO DOESNT MAKE THIS ANY EASIER FOR HIM BECAUSE SHES A MENACE (like her father frfr)

no idea what i’m doing, actually. just wanted to share 🙏🤭🤭🤭🤭

HE LITERALLY BECOMES “how do you do, fellow kids” IM SO DEAD-

-

“Baby, do you think I should completely go blonde?”

“No, Atsumu.”

You continue to fold your clothes while Atsumu pokes and pulls the hair at his scalp, searching and digging for any semblance of grey that may try to peak out. He’s gotten a few from the undercut, but now the ones at the fluffy mop of hair adoring the top of his head is harder to find. He’s determined, and if it wasn’t making him so self conscious, it be cute watching the corner of his tongue sticking out as he plays with his hair.

“You sure? Because my grey’s aren’t as visible.”

You sigh and make your way to your husband, laying a hand on his shoulder, “honey, I don’t care if you have blonde hair, or straight grey hair. I love you. I’d just hate to watch you change your entire being because our little terror has been a little more feral lately.”

He pouts and pulls you in for a hug, “I’m getting old.”

“We both are, baby.”

“Yeah, but you’re aging beautifully. I’m aging like milk.”

“Okay, that’s it-“ you say firmly, leaving the room briefly to head to hisako’s, who’s playing with her toys post-bath and in her favorite jammies. “Hisako, baby, can you come talk to daddy? I think you made him a little sad when you were teasing him earlier.”

“Daddy sad?” She asks, eyes curved in worry.

“A little bit. Come on. Let’s go get daddy.” You scoop her up in your arms and make your way back to your bedroom, “atsumu, hisako has something she’d like to say to you.”

He winces, but she reaches her arms out to him to be held, which he does. “I’m sorry daddy!” She chirps. “Was only teasin’ like uncle Samu. No hurt feelings!”

He smiles and rests his head against hisako’s, “thank you baby… daddy was just feeling a little self conscious about it.”

“No, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to…”

“I know angel girl,” he assures, kissing her temple. They stay close, relishing in each others warmth while you smile close by, but when hisako pulls away and tugs a grey hair out of Atsumu’s head, you pinch your eyes with a smirk.

“Got it daddy!” She giggles.

“You little brat,“ he pinches up her sides while she squirms in his grip, but it seems only to be playful as she gives him a childish, wet kiss on his cheek after.

“Just kidding daddy!”

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Something I Can Turn To

And now for something different again! I took the AU in 'Domestic AU' and I ran with it! So this is your classic sort of everyone's alive alternate universe, set some nebulous time in the current-ish era, wherein Charles and Edwin attended school together and both survived (slash saved each other from) their canon deaths. It's just a sweet and slightly sad little thing that doesn't go into a huge amount of detail, but I got very attached to it so who knows, maybe in future I'll expand on the backstory! Warnings for references to their pasts and the bullying, child abuse etc. that went on there, as well as to injuries, scars and trauma that resulted from it. But we're not getting into super nitty-gritty detail and hopefully the overall vibe is one of love and safety! Still, tread carefully if those topics are at all triggering for you 💛 2.3k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Charles!" Edwin called — bravely poking his face out from the warm duvet to be heard. "The advertisements are over!"

"Coming, coming!"

Charles scurried into the room moments later, two cups of tea in his hands. He huffed and puffed as he padded along the floorboards in hole-riddled socks. "Cold, cold, cold," he muttered, thrusting the cups towards Edwin in a sloshy, mildly dangerous manner. "Grab these a sec!"

Edwin did so, wincing as his arms breached the bounds of the duvet nest to the frigid air beyond. Once Charles had his hands free he wasted no time diving into bed, burrowing into the pocket of warmth.

"Mate, it's fucking cold," he said, reclaiming his mug. "Freezing my bollocks off out there."

"Perhaps we should have prioritised buying that space heater, after all," Edwin mused.

"Oi. 'Nuff of that. That kettle's a bloody essential bit of kit."

Edwin sipped his tea. Scalding hot, just as he liked it. "Hmm. Agreed."

Charles squirmed around getting comfortable, taking care not to spill his tea. He almost succeeded. "Ow. So! What'd I miss?"

"Nothing whatsoever — you made it back just in time." Edwin settled in as well, against the headboard — though by headboard, he of course meant the bare magnolia wall. "I must say, I'm intrigued by this one. I wonder how Detective Columbo's going to get this villain dead to rights."

"Always fakes you out, don't he?" Charles grinned, finally finding his space — pressed up against Edwin, hip to shoulder. "Mm — pass us the biccies."

Edwin handed him the somewhat depleted packet of ginger snaps. "Do be careful of the crumbs — we've only one fitted sheet to our name."

One sheet, one duvet. Two pillows. No bed frame. It was a modest sleeping arrangement. Particularly for two grown men, squeezed onto a mattress that was only a double by the barest technicality. But on these cold winter nights, that closeness had its benefits. Several benefits, in fact.

As though reading his mind, Charles grinned. "What?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Never messed about on a bed of biscuit crumbs?"

Edwin groaned and, lightly, pressed his palm to Charles' face and pushed it away. "You're revolting," he said.

Charles just laughed. "What? It's just like sex on the beach, really." He bit down on a biscuit. Loudly. "Bit crunchier."

"You will never persuade me that sex on a beach is a good idea," said Edwin, with a shudder. "The sand..."

"Sex in the sea, then?"

"Best of luck with your urinary tract infection."

Charles’ laughter rolled pleasantly in Edwin's ears as he nestled in properly, head on Edwin's shoulder.

Edwin chuckled in turn, draping his arm around Charles, fingers sinking into his hair. He played absently with Charles' unruly curls, as Columbo talked circles around his latest hapless ne're-do-well.

It was a strange little life they'd carved out for themselves, here in this sparsely-furnished nest. They had Edwin's scholarship to thank, and the student housing fund he'd received alongside. Though Charles helped as best he could with his meagre earnings from his part-time job at the local gym, they barely scraped by. Charles might've also been able to apply for student loans, once upon a time. But he'd never managed to bounce back after the sharp decline of his grades in year eleven. And what else could anyone have expected? It had taken all of his considerable strength to get back on his feet after what happened to him. Every ounce of his tenacity to return to his life after the incident that had almost ended it.

Edwin would not soon forget those hideous, harrowing weeks. Counting days of silence, of filling the Rowland family's voicemail to no acknowledgement. Of pitying expressions from hospital staff as they turned him away, time after time. Stewing and seething in the fear and the worry. In the rage of being told that he had less of a right to visit his best friend than the man who'd covered his back in belt scars did. Edwin didn't sleep, he didn't eat, he worried himself away night by night, and the boys who did the damage? Oh, they were suspended. For less time than it took for Charles to return to form. Back to school with a slap on the wrist. Any notions Edwin might've still held about there being justice in the world had been quite thoroughly quashed by that ruling.

It was a miracle Charles even found the strength to attend school for his last two years — let alone the same school. The one where he had, to reiterate, nearly lost his life to hypothermia and internal injuries at the hands of his hooligan 'friends'. Edwin had scarcely believed his eyes when he'd spied Charles across assembly that Tuesday morning. A month with no word and suddenly there he was, beaten and battered and more beautiful than Edwin's heart could take.

His parents — or at least his mother — had wished to transfer him, of course. But Charles, in true Charles fashion, dug in his heels and refused to be moved. Edwin had cornered him that very morning, on the stairs after assembly. He must have been angry — because he shouted at Charles when all he truly wanted to do was collapse into his arms.

"I cannot believe you would stay here in this barbaric horror show after what those boys did to you," Edwin had snapped, eyes stinging with the threat of tears to fall. "That is so fucking stupid it's unbelievable!"

"Sorry," Charles had replied — not sounding sorry in the slightest. His stitched-up split lip curled with his weary smile. "No version of this where I don't stick this out with you, is there?"

And that, as far as Charles had been concerned, was the matter closed.

The simple fact was that Edwin had never had a choice in which school he would attend. St. Hilarion's was in the family tradition; his father, grandfather, great grandfather, all honoured alumni. And if Edwin's own incident a year earlier hadn't been enough to convince his father otherwise, then nothing else would. The only way Edwin was leaving that school before graduation was in a body bag. And Charles, the stubborn fool, could only be convinced to leave Edwin in the same manner.

And so for the last two years of hell they had tried, in their own ways, to keep their heads down. 'Tried' being the operative word. Charles could never leave well enough alone, and fights were amassed. But every time he showed up to their hideout in the attic with a black eye or bloody knuckles, it was always the same story. One where he saw someone else being bullied, and threw himself at the situation as a substitute punching bag. Sometimes, the person he was protecting was Edwin. More often than not, it was some boy he'd never exchanged two words with. Made no odds to him.

And no matter how it terrified Edwin, or how he admonished Charles, he could never truly take issue. To resent Charles for being protective would be to resent him for being tragically, quintessentially Charles. In the end there was nothing he could do but patch Charles together with his pilfered first aid kit, and plead with him to be more careful. Maybe, just maybe, it would sink into his thick skull one day.

While Charles spiralled, Edwin studied. And studied, and studied, and studied. During slow lessons, after hours in the library, in the dead of night under the covers — he preferred to catch his sleep in daytime naps, anyway. For obvious reasons, sleeping in the dorm around the other boys had lost its appeal. There were days where he was so exhausted he could do nothing in his lunchtime trysts with Charles but sleep. At times it seemed there was no safe place in the world besides that dusty attic, with Charles' thigh as his pillow.

It was worth it, the sleepless nights, the borderline mania of his studies. With his stellar grades at sixth form, Edwin secured a scholarship on the other side of the country — fully paid. Meaning freedom, at last, from the golden shackles of his father's money. He'd packed everything he could carry into a backpack and his grandfather's old leather travel case. And with the first money he'd ever had to his name and no one else's, he made his first purchase: two train tickets. One way.

It wasn't an entirely seamless escape, of course. When he'd walked to the Rowland house to collect Charles, he'd found him scrambling through the narrow window of his basement bedroom. Nothing on him but the clothes on his back, and a fresh bruise across his jaw. But escape they had — and Charles had slept the entire way to Edinburgh, head on Edwin's shoulder. Safe and sound, at last.

It had felt good to be able to rescue Charles, for a change. He'd been playing the hero for others long enough.

Edwin scratched lightly at Charles' scalp as the Columbo credits rolled. He smiled when Charles snuffled and nuzzled into the sensation in the manner of a contented old dog.

"What's on next?" asked Charles, drowsy.

"I believe there's an episode of QI on the next channel." Edwin enjoyed that programme — some of the humour was a bit crass for his tastes, but he almost always learned something interesting.

"Tenner says Alan comes last place."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Easy money. And I haven't got a tenner."

"Fiver?"

"No."

"One-er?"

Edwin laughed. "I shall wager you... a kiss."

Charles perked up. "I'll take that action!"

"I hope you never take up a gambling habit, Charles," said Edwin, fondly. "Why on Earth would you place bets for something you can have at any time, in abundance?"

"Yeah, but it's not just a kiss, is it? It's a victory kiss. I get to be all smug and that."

"Charming."

"Oh, I'm a charmer." Charles smiled up at him crookedly, eyes hooded. "All the fit lads love me."

Affection bubbled in Edwin's chest as he looked down upon him. It was a flagrant hollow boast — Edwin knew better than anyone how dire Charles' opinion of himself could be. A situation that had only worsened in recent years, as the beatings from home and school grew more frequent and harder to hide under shirts. The scar on his lip had never fully healed. Nor had the proud sweep of his nose recovered from the time it was broken and poorly reset. He was a war-torn thing, and a bit of a hodgepodge. Elegant frame under rugged wounds, topped off with subtly effete highlights of gold earring and smudged eyeliner. Eyes older than his years, and a newly gap-toothed grin that could still light up the room. He was a strange young man, a walking contradiction; and Edwin loved him dearly, fiercely, and oh-so-terribly.

Edwin leaned down, dropping a sweet kiss between Charles' eyes — just above his broken nose. "I should think so. You're very easy to love."

Charles blinked up at him, a flash of vulnerability in his dark eyes. Edwin gathered him close under his arm before he could do something silly like second guess his affection, or shy away.

"Now shush," said Edwin primly, cupping his warm tea to his chest. It was an awful mug, scrounged from a charity shop with a chip in the rim. It declared the holder a certified 'Tired Old Queen', and it was always Edwin's mug without question. "Mister Fry is about to tell us the theme of the week."

And for a little while, that was that. Edwin followed the programme, rapt, humming in interest at new information — and rolling his eyes at the obvious blunders of the panel. Charles did not speak for some time, still warm against Edwin's side. Sometimes, upon being paid a compliment, he needed to sit a while and let it absorb.

It was the ad break, and Edwin was considering braving the arctic chill of the unheated flat for another tea, when Charles spoke again.

"Edwin?"

"Hm?"

Charles wrapped the arm clutching his — now empty — chequered mug around Edwin's waist. "When the Beeb come and drag me away for not paying the telly licence, will you visit me in prison?"

It was so out-of-pocket that Edwin couldn't help but laugh. "Well. Technically, I will be the one going to prison," he said. "It is my name on the apartment lease."

"Would you want me to visit you in prison, then?"

Edwin flicked Charles' earring, playful. "Obviously, Charles."

He could feel Charles' grin against his shoulder. "Brills. You tell me the layout, and I'll bust you out."

"That is not what I agreed to."

"I'll chat to that new girl at the gym, Crystal? Bet she'd help with a prison break. Reckon she's got a wild side."

"Charles," he said, flatly. "I'll not have you imprisoned with me when your madcap scheme goes awry."

"Why not?" said Charles, giving Edwin a warm squeeze. "That's the whole point of doing it."

Edwin scoffed — but his heart was beating ten to the dozen. "Charles —"

"Nope. Sorry." Charles took Edwin's empty mug from his hand — and leaned up to plant a loud, obnoxious kiss on his cheek. "Looks like you're stuck with me. Prison's not getting you out of this relationship, mate."

He made as if to leave the duvet igloo — and immediately hissed at the cold. "Although this bloody apartment might — fucking hell. Going outside; I may be some time."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Oh, for goodness' sake." He inched over to the edge of the bed and gathered the duvet about both their shoulders like a cape, tucking his arm neatly around Charles' waist. "There. If we make haste, we can be back before the general ignorance round." He met Charles’ eyes, stoic. “No man left behind.”

Charles’ smile was a soft and doting thing; somehow it warmed Edwin deeper than any space heater ever could. He wrapped his arm around Edwin's shoulder. Their feet dangled side by side, toes flexed to avoid premature contact with the chilly floor. "Together on three, then?”

Edwin smiled back, and nodded. "One."

Charles bumped their heels together in companionship. "Two..."

Edwin returned the gesture, in commiseration for the unpleasantness to come. A cold and bitter expedition to the kettle lay ahead; but as in all things, they’d tough it out together.

"Three!"

~~

Thanks for reading, this one's very dear to my heart - would love to know what you think 💛 Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the lovely comments you guys have been leaving on my fics - I have SO many to catch up on but I promise I'm gonna reply to them! I love talking to you and really appreciate you talking to me 💛💛💛 Not sure right now whether there'll be a fic for tomorrow (canon divergence/case fic) or the day after (free day). I have nothing written, none of my ideas are really sticking, and I'm still feeling kind of ill. I might end up just posting some ink sketches instead! But whether there's fics tomorrow/Saturday or not, there will defo be a fic Sunday 💛 Thanks so much, my lovelies - I'll be seeing you soon 💛💛💛

[wildrangers]

I’m Sinking, Our Fingers Entwined // Matt Smith

Synopsis: Fem Journalist x Matt Smith, part three {part one, part two}

Tropes & Topics: work angst, super brief miscommunication, fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

A ding! followed by a soft curse rouses Matt from his slumber. It takes him a moment to orient himself in the purple room he finds himself in, only having seen it in the dead of night previously. He sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face as he observes the details of your room. It is absolutely covered in books. One wall’s entirely mismatched bookshelves filled to the brim, there are small piles on each nightstand, and another precariously balanced stack stands in a corner. The open walls are covered in either film posters or dark, gothic prints. 

He rises, seeing the oversized sweats you’d laid on the foot of his bed for him and smirks, noting you had not laid out a shirt for him. He quickly gets dressed, stretching as he exits your room and follows the sound of your fingers on keys. He finds you with his back to him, laptop open before you, and freezes at the sight.

Your hair’s in a messy bun atop your head, a baggy tee and underwear your only clothing as you sit cross-legged on your desk chair. You have glasses on and your face is free of make up. Despite all you’d done together last night, Matt thinks this is the most beautiful version of you he’s seen so far. He can’t stop himself from snapping a quick photo; the morning light hits you in the most beautiful way and your head is tilted as if you’re lost in your thoughts. 

“Good morning, beautiful” he greets and you turn towards him beaming. 

“Morning Matty” you reply, standing up to wrap him in a tight embrace. Normally, he doesn't love being called Matty (how does it make sense for a nickname to have more syllables than your preferred name?), but he adores how it sounds coming from your mouth. “Sleep okay?”

“Like a rock, you?” 

“Wonderfully, thanks” you reply, eyes nervously glancing up to look at him. He smiles softly and the tension eases from your shoulders as he places a gentle kiss to your mouth. As your hands curl around his neck, fingers massaging his scalp, he fears no one else’s touch will affect him the way yours does. You pull back and he places a quick kiss to your nose, drawing a giggle from you. “Coffee?”

“Please, black would be great” he answers, reluctantly letting you walk away to grab him a mug. The ding! that had woken up pulls his eyes to your screen and he feels his stomach drop as he accidentally skims the email preview: Video Call ASAP (re: fraternization policy).

“Want some food too?” he hears you call from the kitchen. “I went out and grabbed some bagels.”

“Sure, thanks” he replies tensely, worry lodging in his stomach as he makes his way to you. That email couldn’t be about him, could it? How could they know already? “What does your day look like?” 

“Ugh” you groan dramatically and he smiles despite his fears. “I should be preparing for an interview we have this week but I finally figured out this plotline I’ve been stuck on, so I think I’ll work on my book instead. I should feel guilty about putting off that prep another day but it is Sunday after all” you shrug, running a hand across his shoulders before brushing past him to return to your laptop. 

“Your creative work is more important” he argues, getting his breakfast together. You don’t answer him so he cautiously pokes his head around the corner. “Everything okay?”

“I have to get on a Zoom call with my boss” you reply quietly, your face drawn. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you google my name?” you request and his heart patters nervously as he does so. 

A buzzy new romance! 

Puppy love on Buzzfeed set?

“How bad is it?” you ask quietly just as the first link opens. He sighs, motioning for you to join him. You tentatively stand beside him, resting your head on his shoulder as he scrolls through the photos and video someone sent to DeuxMoi of you two at the bar last night that several tabloids had subsequently picked up. 

“I am so, so sorry” he says earnestly, closing his phone screen and turning so he can pull you into his chest. He feels some relief as you wrap your arms around his middle, burying your face in his chest. 

“You don’t need to apologize, I knew this could happen. I just didn’t care” you admit and he places a kiss to the top of your head. “Can you be honest with me?”

“Of course.” 

“What did last night mean to you?” 

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, “I don’t want it to be a one night thing, if that’s what you’re asking. The sex was obviously incredible but it’s more than that for me, personally, anyway,” he fumbles at the end, worried suddenly he could have misread your interest in him.

“I feel the same way, I’m just trying to imagine what a relationship with you would even look like.”

“Meaning?” he replies, flinching away from your comment. You must note the upset you accidentally caused as you quickly thread your fingers through his in silent apology. 

“Meaning I’ve never dated a well-known actor before and I have to decide if it’s worth figuring that out and losing my job before I meet with my boss in…” you check your phone. “3 minutes.” 

He nods, “I understand if it’s too much and I’m happy to talk it through but I don’t think that can happen in the next few minutes alone, darling.” 

“I know” you reply quietly, nervously chewing on your bottom lip in a way that he finds unfathomably adorable. “Fuck it.” 

“Fuck it?” he repeats, uncertain. 

“Can you wait in the kitchen while I have this conversation?” you request and he nods despite his confusion. 

“Good morning, Y/N. I’m assuming you know why we requested this call?” 

“Yes and to simplify things, I’m submitting my resignation effective immediately” 

A long pause follows, making Matt’s heart pound faster. “Are you sure of that decision?”

“Yes, thank you for the experience. I wish you all the best.” you reply and he hears the call end. He’s frozen in the kitchen unsure if you want to be alone or if he should comfort you. Within a few moments, the keyboard’s clacking again and he follows the sound. 

Your face is impassive as you type rapidly on the Word document you have open. “Y/N?” he questions softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“...you just quit your job.” 

“Yeah.” 

A pregnant pause, “How are you feeling about that?” A long sigh escapes your mouth and that’s when he sees your hands are shaking slightly. “Oh, darling.” 

“It’s fine, really, I just can’t believe I finally did it. I’ve been debating quitting for months to focus on my writing.” 

Matt settles on the couch and you quickly scurry from the desk chair and into his lap, head nestled in the crook of his neck. “Why hadn’t you?” 

“Because I was scared” you admit, lazily playing with his fingers. “But I want to see what we could be. And I wasn’t happy there anyway, so it just seemed like the right time to do it.” 

“I’m sorry your hand was forced, if I had known this would happen…I just feel terrible.” 

“No, please, dont” you say earnestly, pulling back to gaze into his eyes. “I think this was just meant to happen. That’s what I’m choosing to believe anyway. I have an almost finished manuscript, a few leads on agents, and now we can see what this turns into, if anything” you finish shyly and he grins, placing a kiss to your palm. 

“I have to go to London for a few days, for the final Dragons premiere.” 

“I’ve never been to London” you mumble and his heart thumps wildly. Is this a terrible idea? Well, if you can do it…

“Fuck it, want to join me? I can show you around, you can be my guest.” 

“Yeah?” you ask cheerfully, your face splitting into a grin that he feels deep in his chest. 

“Yeah, if you’d like? I know it’s sudden and we’ve just met but...the reality is I’m often flying around place to place. And you wanted to see what dating me would be like, right?” 

“Is this you asking me on a vacation date to your hometown, Matthew?” you ask, faux-shocked.

“I suppose it is, yeah” he replies, chuckling. 

“Okay, let’s do it then. Plus, I can hang out with Liv more now.” 

“Your real intentions have been revealed” he jokes and you nod enthusiastically as your front door slams open, Trudy charging in and jumping into your lap. 

“What the hell have I missed?!” the woman he presumes is Sage asks with wide eyes. “Also, a neighbor left a note taped to our door, I’m going to presume it’s for you two.” 

taglist: @littlehorrorlover @slayraxes-blogs @decaffeinatedparadisepost

I have no idea where we go from here so stay tuned I suppose lol but also please be patient! Any feedback or thoughts are appreciated 🫶🏻

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the mysterious blonde (PART 3)

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re gigi’s best friend but the project is now over. does that mean the little moments you shared with her brother are over too?? that’s what you think until she invites you for a beach day…. but someone special comes along and it makes your day a whole lot better as well as shaping a future

parts: PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

warnings:

a/n: ‘the mysterious blonde’ has two parts prior to this one and it would make way more sense if you read those first. they linked above if you want to check them out or remind yourself of what happened…

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @peterlcsingwendy @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zoyaaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77

After the project was over, there wasn’t much of an excuse for me to see Grayson. But luckily, Gigi was shipping us together so hard that she created lots of helpful excuses in order to create interactions. Except I wasn’t so good at the ‘creating interactions’ part. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the guy, let alone start a full conversation. That’s why at school, when me and Gigi were on lunch break, she sat me down and told me we had to discuss something.

“You need to talk to him more,” she says, staring me dead in the eye.

“I am trying,” I reply, sounding too unsure for it to be true.

“Liar,” she pokes her tongue out.

“Okay but isn’t it going to be super obvious if I just start having conversations with him,” I try to reason with her.

“No,” she shrugs as I’ve just asked her if the sun is green.

“Gigi have you ever talked to a guy before,” I ask her.

“That is offensive,” she gasps, fighting a smile.

I roll my eyes, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Besides the point,” she announces, “you need to talk to him.”

She brings is back to the topic I was trying to change the subject from. Annoyingly there seems to be no way out.

“What about? I don’t even know what he likes,” I groan, “maybe we’re just not meant to be-“

“No I refuse,” Gigi interrupt, putting her palm on my face, “I want to be a bridesmaid at this wedding so I’m going to make it happen.”

I sigh as a comfortable silence falls upon us. I wish I had the courage to talk to him like a normal human but I’m so conscious of what he might think of me that I always seem to back out. There’d been times when I’d been close, for instance last night. We walked past one another and we smiled at each other and I almost turned around and mentioned something he’d said at dinner, but my heart was racing too much and the nerves took over.

“Swimming,” Gigi suddenly decrees.

“Huh?” I say, still partly in my thoughts, trying to process what she said and why.

“He likes swimming,” she clarifies, with a hand gesture.

Now that explained his body.

“Swimming?” I raise my eyebrows, attempting to figure out how I could possibly bring up swimming in a one on one conversation with him without sounding like an absolute stalker psycho.

“Don’t judge your husband,” she replies, slapping my arm lightly.

“Gigi,” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Look he’s coming for dinner tonight and I am going to make sure you guys are left in a room alone together so you have to talk,” she explains.

“That sounds really creepy out of context but thanks,” I grin.

This girl was a life saver. I mean she was literally making my, albeit questionable, love life actually happen. I couldn’t ask for anyone better. I make a mental note to buy her the worlds’ supply of chocolate covered pretzels when I get enough money.

“You’re so welcome,” she smiles, booping the tip of my nose as the bell rings.

***

Gigi stays true to her word, later that day I’m at her house. We’re just been hanging out as usual when she suggests we go downstairs into the living room. Coincidentally Grayson is there, looking gorgeously concentrated as he takes notes on something or other. We sit down on the sofa together, books in hand, when Gigi abruptly gets up. This is it. This is the moment.

“Sorry,” Gigi says to me quickly, “I’ll be back in a mo.”

“Okay,” I nod.

She gives me a wink before she leaves completely. I open my book. I need a distraction. I look down at the pages, the words all mushing into one giant mess. I can’t concentrate when Grayson is around. My hands are sweating and my leg is bouncing up and down uncontrollably. The silence is deafening. I need to start conversation but he looked so concentrated when I walked in. Would he be annoyed? Weirded out? Or would he not care at all? I stare harder at the mess of letters on my page praying for a drop of courage to emerge to the surface.

“What book are you reading?”

My heart almost stops there and then. His voice startles me so much that I my body jerks forwards and a small gasp escapes my lips. I look up to see Grayson looking at me, at me.

“Sorry, did I make you jump?” he asks gently, his tone laced with concern as his eyebrows pinch together

“Just a little,” I laugh nervously, before flipping to the cover on the book, “it’s Pride and Prejudice,”

A smile tugs at his lips, I’ve never seen a man so beautiful when he smiles, “it’s a very good book.”

“You’ve read it?” I say, surprised as my eyebrows fly to forehead.

“Multiple times,” he nods smoothly.

I smile, “woah.”

There’s a few beats of silence before he offers, “you know if you ever wanted to maybe talk about your opinion on it, I’d be happy to-“

“Really?” I cut him off before he can even get his sentence out, being too shocked he’d even ask to keep myself from blurting out a reply.

“Of course,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“That would be really nice,” I reply, hoping my blush wasn’t as prominent as if felt, “thank you.”

“Of course,” he says again, as if it should be natural thing for him to want to talk to me, as of it was no problem

Theres a few beats of silence. I count as the second stick by, trying to work up the courage to use my voice, to say at least something.

“Gigi tells me you swim,” I manage.

I want the ground to swallow me whole. Murder me, murder me, murder me. Why did I say that and why did I say it so awkwardly? There was nothing, I repeat, nothing, that could have worsened my situation.

Grayson looks back up from his avid note taking and replies with a sweet, “I do.”

I couldn’t sense if he was trying to end the conversation there or didn’t know how to continue it but he didn’t seem to be carrying on with his work and he didn’t break my eye contact, so of course my stupid mouth has to carry on blabbing.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, I find it quite calming,” he explains, “it gives me space to think.”

“Oh it’s one of those hobbies for you,” I say, feeling less apprehensive about naturally talking.

He nods.

“I like hobbies like that,” I continue, “things that just take you away from reality because it’s too much.”

“Do you swim?” he asks me.

“I mean I know how to but not competitively or anything like that,” I shrug.

I stare at his facial expression which is unwavering. Why can’t I read him like I can read Gigi? Is he disappointed? Pleased? Does he even care? I’m running around in circles like a headless chicken.

“What do you like to do?” he says, his voice so soft.

He asked about me. I’m taken aback. He cares enough about me to ask what I like. Maybe I’m being slightly delusional but I don’t care, sometimes delusional thoughts are just better than reality. Then again, why would he have asked if he didn’t acre? Could it just be small talk or is he genuinely concerned? I ponder my answer for far too long.

I almost reply but Savannah walks in asking a question, “hey where’s Gigi, I’ve been looking for her everywhere?”

Typical timing, I mentally sigh. I abandon my conversation with Grayson turn to her instead.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “she said she needed to go for a couple of minutes.”

“Where?” she says, gesturing with her hands.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, “she didn’t really specify.”

“That isn’t helpful,” Savannah groans.

I raise my eyebrows slightly, silently asking her if she was okay. She moves her head forwards slightly, letting me know she is actually okay. She has dark circles under her eyes and a restless look on her face. I can only assume she’s exhausted, annoyed and probably has some sort of headache.

“Have you really checked everywhere?” Grayson pipes up.

“Why? Think you can a better job?” she challenges, arms folded and eyes narrowed at him.

“I was only asking,” Grayson shrugs, “you know what Gigi is like, she-“

“Did someone say my name?” Gigi calls from what sounds like the hallway.

Footsteps approach slowly and Gigi appears behind her twin.

Savannah turns around, “Where have you been?”

“Bathroom,” she answers but I can tell she’s lying by the way she fidgets with her thumb and finger in circular motions.

“I checked there and you weren’t,” her sister replies, her tone rather short.

“Well I went to my bedroom first and then the bathroom, you must’ve just missed me,” Gigi shrugs. Lie number two.

“Okay,” Savannah says sceptically, narrowing her eyes.

***

After my encounter with Grayson on that day I haven’t seen him since. I’ve been over to Gigi’s but she’s explained how he’s been away with his brothers for a bit. I start to lose hope and feelings feel like they might be fading. But it’s the day Gigi invites me out to the beach for the day that things sort of began to change. She texts me the night before and tells me to pack for a beach day. At first I’m a little uneasy but I get over it as she hypes me up to come, via facetime. Now I’m locking up my house and getting into her car, beach day ready. Oh the power of Gigi Grayson’s persuasion.

“We’re going to have the best day in the world,” she assures me as we walk from my door to her car.

“You say that almost every day,” I chuckle lightly

“Can you just not be a Debbie Downer for one day?” she whines at me, her eyes almost glossy.

“I am not a Debbie Downer, I am a Rachel Realist,” I reply, scrunching up my nose playfully,

“That’s not a thing,” she insists, folding her arms across her chest.

“It is now,” I laugh.

“You look more like a Ruth,” Gigi snickers, proud of herself.

My face falls flat, “hey! That’s just mean!”

She sticks her tongue out, throwing her head back as she laughs even harder at my disapproval. When she eventually calms down she looks me in the eye and tells me, “oh and by the way there’s a little surprise for you in the car.”

“Why am I scared?” I ask her, my tone failing to stay steady.

“Have fun,” she sing-sings with a little wink.

“Gigi what did you do?” I say accusingly, worry creeping up into my thumping heart.

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” she replies, flapping her arms about for me to get into the car, but I’m still too scared.

“Three nothings equal a something,” I exclaim, panicking slightly. A million and one possibilities race through my head.

“How?” she furrows her brows.

“It’s basic math,” I say.

“Just get in,” she groans, pushing me towards the door.

I have no choice. And even after a million and one possibilities, none had prepared me for the one infront of me. Grayson Hawthorne was in the drivers’ seat. My jaw physically drops and I stare at Gigi. She would be getting an earful later. I can’t believe he’s actually here and coming with us. He turns around in his seat to look at me. Grey eyes are pinned to mine and a small smile lands on his lips.

“Hello y/n,” he says gently.

I almost melt right there and then. What is this guy doing to me? How is he doing it to me? Why is he doing it to me? The butterflies in my stomach seem to have multiplied since our last encounter.

“Hi Grayson,” I smile back

“It’s good to see you again,” he replies.

I am internally screaming. I can’t believe he just said that. I can practically feel Gigi’s excitement radiating off of her. I try and keep my cool.

“You too,” I say, then look to the passenger seat, “hey Sav.”

“Hey,” she grins at me, “you okay?”

I nod.

“Let’s drive!” Gigi yells, as Grayson starts up the engine, “oooo can I do the playlist!”

“You packed the snacks,” Savannah complains, “I want to at least get a choice in something.”

“Yeah but your music taste is horrible,” she counters, with a sweet shrug.

“Is not!” she protests, throwing her hands in the air.

I can feel Gigi’s eyes burning holes into the side of my face, I look back at her. She stares at me expectantly.

“Why are you looking at me?” I ask slowly.

“Back up,” she explains.

I am about to be in the middle of a sister argument and I really don’t want to be.

“Hey I’ve never said anything about Savannah’s music taste,” I say, forcing part of a laugh.

“Yeah but I can hear you thinking it,” Gigi tells me

“No you can’t!” I reply, then turn to Savannah, “some of it is good.”

“Ha!” she grins at Gigi, jabbing a finger towards her face.

“I don’t know why you’re ha-ing Savannah, I should be the one ha-ing, she half agreed with me,” she replies, arms folded.

“And half agreed with me, stupid,” Savannah rolls her eyes.

“Do you have to be a peace maker between the two of us?” Gigi turns back to me.

“I am not getting in the middle of this,” I tell her, my hands up in the air as if I’ve been accused of a crime.

“Good choice.”

My heart flutters. Every time he talks my heart flutters. I bite back a smile as I catch his eye in the rear-view mirror. A kind eye, a sympathetic eye, a beautiful eye.

“Oh you can stay out of it Mr I only listen to depressing old man music,” Savannah scoffs, lowering her voice an octave or so.

“It’s called being classy,” he says, “you might be unfamiliar with the concept.”

“I would punch you if you weren’t driving,” she grumbles.

“And I would easily dodge,” Grayson replies.

“Guys were making y/n uncomfortable,” Gigi pipes up suddenly.

“I’m fine,” I say quickly and insanely awkwardly.

“She’s seen us fight before Gigi,” Savannah scowls, probably still bitter about the playlist comment.

“Not like this,” she replies, “let’s all just stop, I want a nice day.”

Silence hits us like a bus. A massive double decker bus. No one speaks for a full twenty minutes. The silence is awkward and uncomfortable and I don’t think anyone knows how to break it. All I know is I’m definitely not going to be the one to break it. Suddenly it becomes apparent that Grayson flicks the radio on, as music starts to play.

The drive is mostly smooth sailing from there and conversations pick up here and there. None of which have remotely argumentative undertones, thank the lords. Though at various points Gigi would stick her head out of the window, scream or sing, and then Grayson would tell her off for being so dangerous and explain how worrying it was. I think it is adorable, personally but I think I’m a little bias. Savannah talks a bit about her upcoming basketball tournament, it’s an important season apparently and me and Gigi agree to make every game. But unfortunately for me, the person who spoke the least was Grayson.

***

When we finally arrive at the beach and park the car, we all get out stretching our stiff limbs. That’s when I take Gigi’s arm and drag her off to the side, talking in a low enough tone so no one else can hear us. I want answers and I want them fast.

“You didn’t think to tell me!” I hiss.

“It needed to be a surprise,” she replies, knowing exactly what I’m talking about.

“I don’t like surprises,” I tell her.

“How can you not like surprises!” she exclaims, looking slightly offended.

“Gigi why would you do this?” I sigh, getting back on track.

“I’m trying to help you out,” she says.

“This isn’t helping me out, it’s going to be awkward,” I groan.

“Just talk to him,” Gigi shrugs, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“I can’t, I actually can’t,” I explain.

“You’re going to,” she orders, “today.”

“Gigi, no.” I reply, a warning undertone laced into my voice.

“y/n yes, “she says firmly, “you know nothings ever going to change if you don’t make it happen.”

“Why isn’t he trying to make it happen?” I retort, arms folded.

“Because you’re not and he might think you’re uninvested,” she suggests.

“And what if he’s uninvested,” I press on.

“I don’t think he is,” Gigi tells me, “but it’s the best way to find out.”

“Gigi!” I exclaim, almost slapping her arm.

“Look if anything just have fun okay, we’re at a beach,” she shrugs.

She had done all of this for me, to help me and my sorry excuse for a love life out. And I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful but this is probably the worst thing for my love life right now. I couldn’t pull myself together around him. He makes me so nervous, so self conscious… but I suppose now I have no choice.

“You two coming?” Savannah shouts over her shoulder.

“Yeah!” I reply, beginning to walk over.

Gigi follows and we make it to the boot of the car. I look for my bag but can’t seem to find it. I do a double take but still can’t seem to spot it.

I begin to ask, “where did my-“

“I’ve got it.”

Tingles run down my spine. I don’t understand how just his voice can do this to me. It’s not normal. I turn around to see Grayson carrying several bags in his hands including mine. Our eye meet suddenly and I want to say so many thing yet each set of words just die in my throat.

“You don’t have to-“ I say.

“It’s okay,” Grayson replies.

“Seriously I don’t mind,” I reassure him, extending my hand out.

“I’ll carry it down for you,” he tells me.

“Are you sure?”

“Very,” he responds, a kindness in his eyes.

“It’s kind of heavy though,” I say, recalling how much I’d shoved into one tiny bag.

“All the more reason for you not to break your shoulder carrying it,” he grins at me.

“What if you break yours?” I say tilting my head to the side.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he shrugs simply.

I gape, wide-eyed, very tempted to ask for more details on the story but before I can he continues.

“Besides it would be worth it.”

I think I almost faint, I feel my knees go slightly weak. I really hope he meant it how I thought he meant it. It would be worth it, worth breaking his shoulder… for me? It is stupid, it’s utterly stupid that I’m overanalysing five stupid words. I shake my head and collect myself.

“Can we get coffee?” Gigi skips along the pathway.

“No,” Grayson says almost immediately.

“I fancy some too though,” Savannah says, “y/n?”

“I could do with some coffee,” I agree.

“Three over one,” Gigi says in a sing-song tone, booping the tip of her brother’s nose.

“You’re getting decaf,” Grayson tells her, sternly.

They continue a little argument, backs and forth like a ping pong game. Me and Savannah share a look stifling our giggles behind our hands. As we walk behind, I admire Grayson. I can’t help it. He radiates this beauty, that’s so addictive that is struggle to look away. I’m still so embarrassed he felt the need to carry my things… was it just a nice gesture or did he think I was weak or maybe I was just reading too much into the whole affair. My mind races with so many different thoughts, so fast and so hard I’m beginning to get a headache.

We arrive outside a drinks place and find a place to sit down. After the long drive there’s nothing more I wanted than a cold coffee. Not to mention I’d forgotten to make my morning cup this morning. My mind finally decides to slow down to a dull humming. A waitress comes over and takes our orders and I notice Grayson telling her quietly to make sure Gigi’s was decaf as her and Savannah get into deep conversation.

Then Grayson turns to me, “you know they’re starting to show old movies at the movie theatre on Saturday nights.”

“Oh that’s so cool,” I reply.

“This weekend the 1940s version of Pride and Prejudice is being screened,” he tells me.

“No way!” I exclaim my eyes wide with excitement.

He nods, with a small smile. The waitress comes around with the coffees and as soon as she’s gone I return the conversation.

“I just finished it yesterday,” I explain to him.

“And…” he asks, prompting me.

I pause for a moment and then say, “I’m conflicted.”

“And why is that?” he wonders aloud.

“Because I loved every second of it and now it’s just over,” I groan, “gone. I can never relive the first time again.”

“You can’t relive the first time but you can relive the moment again,” he says, “and it’s not over forever.”

“How so?” I reply.

“Stories shall forever continue in our minds and as long as we have the power to tell them they never really go anywhere,” Grayson says, almost wistfully.

“Huh…” I murmur, trailing off slightly, “I’d never thought of it like that before.”

“You guys should go together,” comes Gigi’s voice, surprising me quite suddenly.

“What?” I ask, more quickly and loudly than I’d intended.

“The Pride and Prejudice movie one Saturday,” she clarifies, “you both seem really into it.”

Grayson looks slightly alarmed and replies, “I’m sure y/n is very busy and I don’t want to pressure her into-“

“No I’m free, completely free,” I cut him off. I mentally face palm as I realise how horribly obvious that sounded. Gigi shoots me a knowing grin which I choose to kindly ignore.

“Oh… then would you like to go with me this Saturday?” Grayson asks, looking me dead in the eye.

His eyes are so distracting if the question hadn’t been so important I most likely would’ve forgotten how to answer.

“I would love to,” I smile, trying not to sound too eager.

We lock into this trance of staring at one another. Magnetised by our eyes, unable to be the first to look away. The smile on my lips was beginning to make my jaw ache but I didn’t cadre stop. Only an idiot would give up a moment like this.

“Hey y/n, I need the bathroom, come with me real quick?” Gigi asks, prodding my shoulder.

“Of course,” I nod, grabbing my bag, finally tearing my gaze away.

“We’ll get set up down at the beach,” Savannah says, nodding to Grayson.

“What about the coffees?” Gigi pouts.

“We’ll take them, don’t worry,” Savannah rolls her eyes with a smile.

As soon as we’re out of earshot and view, Gigi holds my hands a squeals and so do I. After little jumping up and down, hugging and screaming and a lot of weird looks we take a second to absorb what just happened.

“I’m going to a movie with Grayson this Saturday,” I finally say it out loud, the reality actually hitting me for the first time. I didn’t realise how in shock I’d been until now.

“It’s basically a date,” Gigi says.

“Literally,” I shrug, ignoring we’re completely delusional.

“I think he likes you,” she sings, giggling a little.

“That’s because you want it to happen,” I sigh.

“No I saw him looking at you,” she tells me.

“Well yeah, I was speaking to him,” I deadpan.

“No, when you weren’t looking at him dummy!” she exclaims, rolling her eyes melodramatically.

“You sure?” I ask her, my voice small and uncertain.

She nods enthusiastically.

“Gigi I can’t thank you enough,” I gush, a sudden surge of gratitude coming over me.

“Why?” she replies, looking very confused.

“You literally made it happen, you’re the reason I’m going out with him on Saturday,” I explain, suddenly regretting being so mad at her earlier for inviting Grayson as a surprise.

“All in a days work,” she winks at me.

“I will name my firstborn child after you, to show my gratitude,” I say.

“Awwwwhhh a little Gigi Hawthorne,” she says, putting her hand over her chest.

“A little Gigi Hawthorne.” I confirm, “hopefully anyway.”

We decide that we probably should get back to the others now and make our way down onto the beach together, laughing so hard we struggle to keep ourselves up right or walk in remotely straight lines. People give us strange looks but our bellies are aching and our lungs are dying far too much for us to care.

“Can you see them?” I ask, short of breath from wheezing.

“No…” Gigi says, giggling.

“Oh there’s Grayson,” I say, spotting our beach towels and umbrellas set up, with Grayson lying under them.

“Of course you spotted him,” she teases me.

“Shut up!” I exclaim, slapping her arm.

She laughs again as we make our way towards a very shirtless Grayson. I mean I’d seen him without a shirt before but today it was just different. The sun bounces off of his skin at a perfect angle, and the crown of blonde hair on his head glows.

“Quit gawking,” Gigi snaps me out of my trance, “that’s still my brother you know.”

“I am not gawking,” I hiss at her.

“Oh please, there’s drool running down the side of your mouth,” she tells me, pointing.

“Really?” I ask, self consciously wipe the side of my mouth.

Gigi winks at me laughing. I roll my eyes, unamused and slap the side of her arm.

“You’re not funny,” I say.

“I think that was hilarious,” she grins.

Grayson now spots us and waves us over. We both walk a little faster towards him. Savannah and Grayson had clearly already set up the umbrellas and beach towels perfectly, though I couldn’t see Savannah with him.

“What’s got you so smiley Gigi?” he asks, as we approach.

“Oh nothing,” she sing songs, smiling at me, “where’s Savannah?”

“I think she went to go and hire a surf board,” he explains.

“Ooooo I want to do that!” Gigi says, jumping up and down with excitement.

“It’s over there,” he points her into the right direction.

“Coming?” she turns to me.

“Yeah I’ll pass,” I scoff, imagining what an idiot I’d make of myself on a surf board.

“You’d be missing out,” Gigi tells me, poking my stomach.

“I’ll settle for missing out this time,” I reply.

“Okay then,” she shrugs.

Gigi rushes to take off her shirt and shorts, ready in her bathing suit and promptly runs off, far too excitedly as I sit myself down on a beach towel beside Grayson. I offer him a small smile which he returns with a wider one. I quickly look away as I shed my shirt and shorts, leaving me feeling very exposed in my bathing suit. When I look back towards him, I’m aware that he too has looked away. My cheeks heat up at the thought of him being so gentlemanly as to give me some privacy. I begin to rustle around in my bag in search for my sunscreen when a familiar voice freezes me in my tracks.

“Hey,” Grayson says.

I look up, happy I can now use sunburn as an excuse for my flushed cheeks, “hi.”

“How have you been?” he asks me shyly.

“Okay actually, yeah,” I nod, “how have you been, I haven’t seen you in a while?”

“Yeah I’ve been with my brothers a bit,” he explains.

“All okay?” I make sure.

He nods, “more than okay. My older brother is getting married.”

“Oh my gosh that’s amazing,” I beam.

He smiles, “they’re planning it for three months time.”

I put a hand over my heart, “that’s going to be lovely.”

“Yeah, he has a wonderful fiancée and I think he’ll be really happy,” he tells me, a real brightness in his eyes when he talks about them. It warms my heart.

“I’m glad,” I reply.

We fall into a silence and I grab the sunscreen out of my bag and begin to apply.

“Do you need some help?”

It takes everything in me to not let my jaw drop. I freeze mid movement and don’t know what to do with myself. There are fireworks going off in my brain and my heart is close to exploding.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” I mumble shyly, looking down.

“Of course not,” he smiles, holding out his hand for the bottle.

I pass it to him and turn around, delicately moving my hair out of the way. I feel his hands soothingly rub the liquid in, you’d think he was a professional masseuse. He’s so gentle and careful with my skin. I’m so glad he can’t see my face right now because I don’t think I’ve ever been more red.

“Sorry,” I say quietly.

“Why are you apologising?” he asks, as his hand slips under my strap.

I bite back a gasp to answer his question, “because you have to rub sunscreen into my back.”

“I didn’t realise it was an offensive affair,” he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“You know what I mean,” I smile.

“I’m not sure I do,” he says, pressing for me to carry on.

“Is it not awkward for you?” I ask.

“No, I’m helping a friend out, nothing awkward about that,” he replies and I can hear the shrug in his tone.

Friend. The word echoed through my brain bouncing off every surface. It would torture me at every waking hour, replaying like a broken record. He said ‘friend’. But how else was he meant to word it, how else would I have worded it. But if he felt the same way to me as I did to him would he have still said ‘friend’. Why am I like this? Analysing every second word the guy says. I need to stop driving myself insane.

“I suppose,” I say, trying to not let my disappointment shine through as I turn back around to face him.

He hands me back the bottle, “about earlier, if you felt pressured into Saturday I’m not going to be offended if you don’t want to go.”

“No I do, really,” I say, “why? Did you not want to?”

And suddenly I was on edge, that ‘friend’ comment had really thrown me off and now I was second guessing everything he mentioned.

“No, I absolutely did,” he tells me, an honest look in his eyes, “but I was just making sure.”

“Thanks,” I smile sweetly.

I’m about to continue when Gigi appears in front of me, out of breath and slightly wet.

“What happened to surf boards?” I ask her, shielding my eyes from the sun.

“I fell off too many times and gave up,” she shrugs, “so you’re coming in the water with me now.”

“No I’m okay here,” I say, forcing a small laugh.

Gigi doesn’t even bother replying and instead grabs my arms and pulls me forwards, breaking out into a full on sprint towards the water. I try to drag her back but I’m too weak from laughing so hard, it’s like all of my limbs have gone to jelly.

“And now we go in,” she says, gripping onto my hands tighter.

“It’s gonna be cold!” I whine, taking a few steps back.

“Oh shush, you don’t know until you try,” she scolds me, bringing me back forwards.

I dip a my foot in and immediately retract, “I’ve tried, it’s cold.”

“Come in a little,” she pouts, “for me.”

I groan and oblige. After a few steps in I decide it isn’t as bad as I’d thought until we’re about thigh deep, then I want to turn around.

“No you can’t, we’re barely even in yet!” Gigi exclaims.

“I’m in enou-“

I don’t get to finish my sentence as I’m cut off by my own scream on surprise promptly followed by a face full of water. Trust Gigi to push me in. Before I come back up to breathe, I swim underneath her and tackle her legs so she too topples over. When I get to the surface I’m soaking and salty and highly unamused in contrast with Gigi’s bright eyes and giggles.

“See, wasn’t that fun?” she grins at me.

“No, I’m wet,” I grit through my teeth, trying to hide a smile.

“Well duh… it’s the sea,” she tells me.

I roll my eyes and the put a hand up to block out the sun’s glare. But two people catch my eye.

“Is that Savannah and… Grayson?” I question.

Two heads of golden hair, contrasting with the blue of the ocean, ride on surf boards, tackling waves with smiles on their faces. They look more like siblings than usual.

“Is he surfing? Did you know he could surf? He looks like a professional,” I babble suddenly.

“I didn’t know he could surf,” she says, “then again Gray can probably do any sport ever.”

“He definitely knows how to surf,” I reply, not being able to tear my eyes away from his precision and focus.

“Is that a green flag for you,” she teases, “are you into the surfer boys?”

“Oh put a sock in it,” I laugh, pushing her into the water.

She comes back up gasping for air and laughing, “hey!”

“Payback,” I shrug, “and I’ll do it again if you don’t shut it about my love life.”

“You were thanking me earlier,” Gigi grumbles at me.

“Not anymore,” I sing.

“So bipolar,” she rolls her eyes playfully.

“Shhhh I’m trying to watch!” I say, my eyes still fixated on Grayson.

“You mean stare at his abs,” she raises her eyebrow.

“Well they’re really nice too,” I reply, giving up on being in denial.

She wrinkles her nose, “my brother right there.”

“Hey you brought up the abs thing,” I defend.

“Because you’re staring at them!” she exclaims, looking very disgusted.

Before I can reply to her Grayson catches my eye and for a moment it’s just him there and no one else. He beckons me over with a hand.

“Was that at me?” I whisper to Gigi.

“Who else is he signilling at?” she asks.

We turn around simultaneously and see an old man behind us with a snorkel on. He shoots us a dirty look and we turn around, barely keeping it together. As soon as our eyes meet we start absolutely dying with laughter.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s you,” Gigi wheezes, holding her belly.

“I’m going to swim over,” I say once I’ve pulled myself back together.

“I thought you didn’t like the sea,” she challenges me.

“I do now,” I grin at her.

She shakes her head smiling, “I would be mad at you but I really want a Gigi junior.”

“Exactly,” I say, still trying to work out how I’m going to get out of calling my firstborn child Gigi.

“Don’t do anything naughty,” she winks at me, with a cheeky kind of smile.

“Gigi! We’re on a public beach and we’re not even a couple!” I exclaim, reminding her.

“You never know,” she shrugs

“What have you been reading?” I ask her, eyebrows arched and arms folded.

“Never you mind that,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

“Dirty romance again?” I giggle, poking her shoulder.

“Go get yourself a boyfriend,” she says, detracting from the conversation, “he’s waiting.”

I look over to Grayson who still has his gaze fixated on me.

“We’re coming back to this conversation later,” I tell her.

I don’t give her a chance to object as I dive into the water, out of my depth and swim over to Grayson. When I reach him a rest my arms on his surf board, keeping me afloat.

“Since when could you surf?” I look up.

“Since I was about ten,” he tells me, “my grandfather took me and my brothers.”

Beat.

“Come up, here.”

“On the board?” I ask.

He nods and I ungracefully attempt to clamber onto the surf board. I struggle up and the fall right back down, feeling like a world class idiot in front of Grayson.

He smiles softly at me, “need a hand?”

“Nope,” I grunt, slipping once again, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that,” he chuckles, his head titled slightly sideways.

“Yes,” I say determinedly and then, “… actually no, can I have some help please?”

“Here,” he laughs, extending his hand, “grab onto my wrist, the grip will be stronger.”

I do as his says, holding on tightly to his wrists, I push upwards as he pulls me towards him. His hand slides around my waist, which was now exposed out of the water and he lifts me up onto the surfboard. Once he’s sure I’m on there, he slowly removes his hands. My waist tingles where his fingers have been and so does my face as it rises in temperature.

“Ever been on a surf board before?” he asks me.

“Is it that obvious?” I grin.

“No,” he laughs kindly.

I give him a look, my eyebrows raised, letting him know he doesn’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.

“Well maybe,” he says, a little sheepishly.

“How come you didn’t surf earlier then?” I ask him. He could’ve gone with Savannah and Gigi to hire a board but he chose not to, which made me curious to say the least.

“I didn’t want to leave you on your own,” Grayson shrugs.

My pulse quickens and my face lights up. But I play it cool, or at least I’d like to think I do.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself,” I tell him.

“I know but I didn’t want you to feel alone,” he says. He says it like he actually cares, like I actually mean something to him. And it feels magical.

“Thanks,” I say, “so what are we doing?”

“Paddling out, then we’ll stand up,” he explains.

“You’re joking,” I scoff. There is no way that I could possibly do that.

“The waves are babies on this beach,” he says, gesturing to the seemingly unthreatening waves.

“They’re still waves and may I remind you I’ve never done this before,” I reply, eyeing the water intently.

“There’s a first time for everything,” he murmurs.

“You surprise me with your spontaneity,” I hum in response.

“And you surprise me with your reluctance,” he replies.

“I’m not reluctant!” I defend.

He shoots me a pointed look as I sit there with my arms folded.

“I’m not reluctant,” I sigh before hesitating slightly, “…I’m just scared.”

“You don’t need to be scared,” he tells me, “I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen.”

“Okay….” I say hesitantly, “what do we do first?”

“First we need to paddle out, so we have to lay down on the surface board,” he explains, showing me what to do.

I mirror his actions and slowly lay down on my belly beside him, as he lifts an arm and puts it over my shoulders, so he has one hand on each side of the board.

“Feeling good?” he checks.

“Good isn’t quite the word I’d use to describe whatever I’m feeling,” I reply, trying to steady the shake in my voice.

“Okay, now we’re going to paddle out,” he instructs, “you think you want to?”

“Yeah,” I breathe

Slowly and cautiously, feeling a little more comfortable with Grayson by my side, I help paddle out until it feels like we’re in the middle of the ocean. The middle of a vast expanse of salty blue water.

“You see the wave coming up now,” he says, his voice soothing and calm.

I hum in reply.

“We’re going to catch that one,” he explains.

“Okay.”

“I’ll stand first and then I’ll help you.”

I agree. He stands up with ease and good balance, like he’s done it a thousand times before. I presume he has.

“Do you trust me?” Grayson asks.

“Yes,” I say with no hesitation.

“Hold my hands,” he instructs me.

I take his hands in mine and hold them tightly, until my knuckles have gone white and my hand bright red.

“Stand up,” he tells me.

I shake my head, convincing myslef that there are at least eighty different ways to die right this second.

“Stand up, I’ve got you,” he reassures me.

“What if I fall?” I ask worriedly, my voice unfamiliar.

“Then I’ll catch you,” Grayson says, his eyes twinkling.

I stand up, wobbling a little. He catches me by the waist, his palm fitting perfectly in the dip, stabling me. Goosebumps raise on the surface of my skin and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m cold and shocked. Though my face feels a little too heated for it to be blamed on the cold.

“Spread your arms out,” he tells me.

I slowly spread my arms out and his hands don’t leave my waist. It’s my very own titanic moment, though I hope if this is going anywhere it doesn’t have the same end result. And suddenly it’s just him and me in the middle of the ocean alone on a surf board and nothing and no one else matters.

“Ready?” he say into my ear.

“Ready.”

The wave is not a big as I’d thought it would be and we easily ride it. I even find myself laughing and slightly enjoying myself. That lasted for the grand total of five whole second. Then I slip off into the water. I’m quick to kick my way to the surface and grab ahold of the surfboard. Grayson is on his knees looking a little pale, worry lines creasing his forehead.

“Are you okay?” he rushes, lifting me up onto the surfboard.

“Yeah,” I cough, sea water residue in my mouth.

“Are you sure?” he asks worriedly, checking my pulse, vision, hearing and mobility. He placed a gentle finger under my chin and tips my head back.

“I’m sure,” I chuckle, tilting my head back forwards, “but I think that’s enough surfing for me.”

“Understandable,” he nods, dropping his hand, “come on, let’s get back onto shore.”

Together we paddle back to shore, our bodies so close to each others it’s making me nervous. We spot Gigi waiting on the beach for us, looking excited. Before we get there Grayson turns his head towards me.

“You know I’m proud of you,” he says.

“Proud?” I ask trying to focus on the conversation and not how close our faces were.

“You gave surfing a go,” he says, “even though you were scared.”

“Well I had a good teacher,” I murmur, our noses almost touching.

“Thanks,” he smiles and… did he just blush?! I shake the idea out of my head, it’s probably just the lighting or sunburn.

We drift back onto the sand and Gigi runs up to us, beaming, “I found a crab and made friends.”

I shiver, “a crab?”

“He’s cute!” she exclaims

“He?” I ask.

“I’ve names him Bubblez with a ‘z’ at the end and I’m emotionally attached,” she tells me.

She looks at Grayson, her eyes wide and hopeful. A pleading look on her face.

“You’re not keeping the crab as a pet,” Grayson deadpans.

“How did you know I was going to ask?” she groans.

“Because you tried to adopt eight stray kittens and two stray dogs in the last month,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Gigi replies but I don’t hear the rest of the conversation as someone grabs my attention.

“Hey y/n! Help me drag my board in!” Savannah hollers at me.

My brow furrow, Savannah doesn’t ask for help. Ever. Let alone to pull in a surf board, something I knew she’d done a thousand times and was plenty strong enough to do herself. I know something is up, I just can’t figure out what.

“Meet you back at the umbrellas,” I smile at Grayson.

“See you there,” he replies.

I walk over and grab one side of Savannah’s board, waiting for her to say something.

“I thought you didn’t like him,” she hisses, her voice low, almost dangerous.

“Me too,” I shrug, not even bother to hide it from her anymore.

“y/n!” she exclaims.

“Savannah!” I mock her back.

She rolls her eyes and tugs the board sighing, “please think it through.”

“That’s what I told you about Duncan and you didn’t,” I snap back

She flinches, like I’ve hit her across the face. She drops her side of the board so I drop mine. Guilt floods through me, but I push it back. This needs to be addressed. She readjusts herself and holds her head high.

“It’s different,” she says, trying to mask the tremor in her voice and failing.

“No it’s not,” I counter.

“Yes it is,” she insists, her eyes fiery.

“Grayson is a good person, he cares about you and Gigi-“

“How would you know?” she snaps, cutting me off.

“Because he’s told me,” I yell, “when he talks about you two his whole face lights up.”

She looks taken aback and loses her words for a minute so I take the opportunity to continue.

“He’s kind and gentle, why is it so bad that I want someone like that?” I ask her.

“Because…” she falters, “because if you break up whose side do I take.”

“Hold your horses there, we’re not even together,” I try to smile.

“Hypothetically then,” she says.

“His,” I shrug, “and I’d understand, he’s family.”

“So are you.”

My heart swells and a lump forms in my throat. I’d always been close to Gigi, we’d been like sisters from the start but Savannah and I took a lot of warming up before we became closer. We butt heads often, both being strong characters. Never once did I think she viewed me like a sister. I never thought I was of that importance to her, that significance in her life. But the fact that she does really hit me hard. And now I’m the one who’s lost her words.

“And I don’t want him to steal you from me,” she murmurs, her eyes a little glossy.

“Oh Sav,” I say, wrapping my arms around her, “you think I’d let him?”

“Love makes you do stupid things,” she chokes, “I should know.”

“Then if I do I give you full permission to slap me until i come to my senses,” I joke.

“Okay,” she laughs, wiping a few stray tears away.

“Come on,” I say, picking up my side of the board, “the others will be wondering about us.”

She nods and lifts the board as we begin walking again in a comfortable silence.

“y/n?” she says quietly, gently, almost carefully.

“Yeah?”

“I am really happy you like Grayson and if you guys do ever get together, I would be very happy for you,” she says, “I want you to know that.”

“Thank you,” I smile, “I still think you can do better than Duncan, but if you love him I’m behind you. Except if he treats you like dirt, then I’ll take him bungee jumping without the rope.”

She giggles a little and then grows serious, “he’s good enough to me.”

I don’t want to argue anymore so leave it at that. But my mind is screaming ‘is good enough, really enough?’ I’d have the conversation another day, I decide. We trek back up the beach to Gigi and Grayson who are sunbathing on the beach towels. As we approach Gigi sits up and flicks her sunglasses onto her head.

“What took you so long?” she calls.

“I’m like a donkey with mitten and couldn’t keep hold of the board,” I lie.

“Classic y/n,” she winks playfully.

“Hey!” I complain.

“I practically dragged the whole thing up here single handedly,” Savannah adds.

“Did not,” I mutter.

“I was thinking we should all go for ice cream,” Gigi says, “they have this ice cream bar where you can add as many toppings as you like for free.”

“I didn’t see that when we walked to the beach,” Grayson replied a, joining the conversation.

“Well you obviously have no priorities then,” his sister responds, offended and shocked.

“Priorities?” he questions.

“Beach priority number one, always look for the best ice cream spot,” she exclaims, “you should know this! Have I taught you nothing?”

“The only thing you’ve taught me is to not give you coffee or any drink that is remotely caffeinated,” he says and I try not to laugh.

“Talk to the hand,” Gigi grumbles at him, thrusting her palm into his face, then turning to me and Savannah, “now who’s coming for ice cream?”

“I’m in,” she shrugs.

“Same here,” I nod.

“I’ll come too,” Grayson sighs, but part of me think he actually wants to come.

Her face lights up and she jumps up excitedly, “yay, let’s go!”

We all walk back up the beach, following Gigi who is practically sprinting to show us the way. We eventually reach a little establishment she takes us into. It’s cool inside and all of the walls are brightly coloured, so much so it hurts my eyes a little. There’s every ice cream flavour one could imagine and even more toppings to choose from. Gigi looks like she’s in heaven. I grab a scoop of my favourite flavour and moderately top it with a few bits and pieces I liked the look of before I went and paid. I notice Grayson already standing there with his cone.

“Wow I didn’t pin you as a vanilla kind of guy,” I comment, my eyebrow raised in surprise as I analyse and severely judge his ice cream choices.

“What did you pin me as then?” he says, the corner of his mouth turned upwards slightly.

“I don’t know something like coffee or rum and raisin,” I shrug.

“Do you think I’m a sixty year old man?” he asks.

I laugh, almost choking on my own ice cream, “no, I just thought you had…“ I struggle for the right words, “…refined taste.”

“Saved yourself there,” he teases, “that was a close one.”

I poke my tongue out at him and then realise that maybe that was a little too comfortable of me. But he’s laughing so I take it as a good sign. As Gigi finishes paying for her extremely colourful icecream cone, she links arms with me and begins to tell me all about the extravagant flavours and extras she’s topped the ice cream with.

***

The four of us walk down the beach, eating our ice creams. Most of the way it is silent, with odd pockets of random conversation dotted about the place. Then we lay on the beach for hours, sunbathing, sleeping, just being. I haven’t felt this relaxed in a while. Occasionally one or two of us would leave to take another dip into the sea. Gigi and I are lying on a towel playing with the sand on either side of us, letting it tickle our fingertips as we gossip about school drama and hot celebrities. Though I don’t think there’s any celebrity I could’ve found to rival Grayson Hawthorne right now. I mean he’s just sat there looking gorgeous. How could someone be doing so little and still looking so gorgeous? I can’t wait to tell Gigi about all the things that had happened between us today, I’m practically ready to burst.

“Can we stay until sunset?” I ask, leaning my cheek on Gigi’s shoulder, “we have to see this beach at sunset.”

“We can stay until sunset,” she replies.

“What do we do now then?” Savannah asks.

“What we’re doing is fine,” I shrug.

“We’re not doing anything,” she says, bored.

The thing about Savannah is, she needs to move, like all of the time. The art of doing nothing and just relaxing, Savannah did not enjoy. I made a small bet with myself that she was going to suggest we okay a sport soon.

“Precisely,” I smile, lying back down, closing my eyes,

“What about a game of volleyball?” she suggests.

Won the bet then.

“That sounds good,” Gigi agrees.

“I’ll play,” I say, sitting back up and trying not to sound as halfhearted as I was.

“Gray?” Savannah asks.

“Alright,” he nods.

“Good you’re on my team,” she says.

“Hey! No fair!” Gigi exclaims immediately.

“Ouch Gigi,” I mumble.

“Sorry but we have to face the facts here,” she says with a hand up, “when’s the last time you played volleyball?”

“I don’t know,” I respond.

“Exactly our problem,” she says, “Grayson probably has a secret volleyball career and-“

“I do not,” Grayson interrupts her, sharply.

“And Savannah is good at all sports, our odds aren’t really looking good,” Gigi continues, completely ignoring Grayson’s comment.

“Then let’s just have fun,” I reply.

“Okay,” she grins at me, then looks to the other two and narrows her eyes, “prepare to go down!”

“Pssstt, Gigi,” I whisper-yell so the other can still hear, “I thought you just said we’re going to lose.”

“But we can lose with confidence,” she replies, optimistically.

I shake my head laughing, “you serve first then.”

***

After several volleyball matches of the other two beating us in every game bar one, which Gigi and I would not shut up about, we sit and watch the sunset, per my request. I sit on my beach towel in between Grayson and Gigi staring at the sky covered in shades of pink, orange and yellow.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” I sigh.

“It is,” Grayson murmurs.

I glance towards him and he quickly looks away. Gigi nudges me and I turn to her, there’s a smile plastered on her face. I jerk my eyebrows together asking her to explain. She mouths ‘he was looking at you’. My eyes mirror the size of saucers as I silently ask her if she’s sure. She nods and my heart thumps loudly against my rib cage.

***

It’s only when the sun starts setting down and the sky is a little dark that someone suggests we pack up and head back to the car. By the time we finally reach the car the sky is fully dark and only lit with little twinkling stars.

“I’ll drive,” Grayson offers, once we’ve stuffed the boot full of our things.

“No you drove on the way here, so it’s my turn now,” Savannah says, nicking the keys.

“I call shotgun!” Gigi yells quickly.

I did the math. Me and Grayson were in the back together. Matchmaker Gigi strikes again. I open the door to sit down but before I can get in the seat Gigi dumps the sandy beach bag on the left seat.

“You wouldn’t mind sitting in the middle right?” she asks, loud enough for the others to hear.

In the middle. Right next to Grayson. Of course. I don’t know whether to smile or dread the experience, so I do both.

“Not at all,” I reply, situating myself in the middle seat.

I fumble around with my seatbelt to avoid eye contact with Grayson. Our bare legs are touching, sending the butterflies in my stomach fluttering and tumbling all over the place. Savannah start to drive and the bumps in the road just mean the two of us keep accidentally knocking each other. I try and hide the blush that keeps blossoming darker each time we touch but eventually give up. Another jolt, another spark of electricity shoots across my body. But by about twenty minutes into the drive exhaustion catches up on me, binding my mind together like some sort of kidnapper. I can feel my eyes drooping down and my head lolling to one side.

“Are you tired?” Grayson murmurs.

My heart throbs my chest, so much so I could hear the beating in my ears. I look up into his pools of grey and I nod, yawning a little.

“Lean on me,” he whispers.

“What?” I blurt out, as soon as I’ve processed the three words. I practically jump out of my seat, suddenly awake and alert, my eyes wide in shock.

“Lean on me,” he repeats, just as softly as before.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, still trying to mask my pure shock.

“Would I have asked if I wasn’t?” he replies smoothly.

“Thanks,” I say with a small smile.

Hesitantly I rest my head on his shoulder and attempt to relax. I breathe in. He smells divine. The cotton shirt he wears is so soft against my skin. He places his head on top of mine and I feel reality begin to slip away as darkened swallows me whole.

***

A jolt awakes me, but not fully as I’m still groggy. Even thought I’m half asleep I’m very aware I’m leaning on Grayson Hawthorne. I can smell him.

“Where are we?” I murmur sleepily.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, “we’re quite far from home.”

Comfortably situated, resting on Grayson, I listen I his soothing voice as my eyes slowly lull themselves shut again and sleep becomes my captor for the next couple of hours.

***

I wake up disoriented and confused. I’m no longer in the car. I can feel that my face is pressed up against someone’s chest. I open my eyes and realise that I’m in Grayson’s arms, bridal style.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, suddenly sitting up.

This puts Grayson off balance and I begin to fall to the ground very ungracefully. Luckily he catches my waist just before I hit the ground. His hands are strong and steady on the small of my back.

“Sorry,” I murmur embarrassed, as he helps me back up, his hands only dropping from my waist when I’m upright and completely stable. They linger for a little longer than necessary but I’m not complaining.

“No, my apologies I didn’t mean to drop you,” he says.

“If you didn’t I think you’d have a broken wrist,” I reply, “so it’s a good job you did.”

“Gigi suggested I carry you in as you were asleep,” he explains suddenly.

“Did she now?” I say, almost smiling. What would I do without my Gigi?

He nods and then passes me my key, “she found them in your bag.”

“Good to know my best friend respects my privacy and dignity,” I grin, a little sarcasm playing on my tongue.

“Of course,” Grayson plays along.

“Well thanks for letting me use your shoulder as a pillow and for carrying me to the door,” I say, a little awkwardly.

“No problem,” he smiles, “should I pick you up from here on Saturday?”

“Are you sure?” I ask him, “I don’t want it to be any trouble, I can just take the bus.”

“Of course I’m sure,” he nods, “maybe we could go to dinner together before?”

“I’d like that very much,” I beam, my cheeks heating up.

“I’ll get Gigi to pass me on your number incase I need to contact you,” Grayson suggests.

“Yes, I’ll get her to do the same for me,” I agree.

“Got any books on the go since Pride and Prejudice?” he asks me, continuing the conversation, making me very happy.

“Haven’t had a chance,” I sigh.

“Think you can wait another day to start one?” he asks me.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he grins, “but can you?”

“I think so,” I say sceptically, “what do you have planned?”

“You’ll see,” he replies, a little mischievously.

“When Gigi says that I get scared,” I laugh.

“Well I’m not Gigi,” he replies, “I’ll see you Saturday then.”

“See you on Saturday.”

a/n: I AM SOOOO SORRY. I don’t even know why this took me 12 billion years to write but it is finally here and for anyone reading this I really appreciate your patience with me. I hope you enjoyed PART 3 and you guessed it… PART 4 is in the works!! Hopefully that one will take a bit less time

I didn’t realise how long this part was until I’d written it. I actually had to cut PART 3 in half because it was so long but hope you enjoyed this!! Thanks for reading my loves 🤍🤍 this fic is the only thing keeping me sane waiting for TGG

btw I know nothing about surfing or surf boards so don’t come at me.

and a quick thank you to anyone who participated in my little Grayson icecream poll, you’ll notice the results have been put to good use… though I don’t personally agree that it would be vanilla.

TIG masterlist

[notsohappynotsosad]

Emperor, Stelmane and Gargauth

Sorry I haven't been posting, I got hyperfixated on this theory. Drawings will resume from now

If you’ve completed the game, there’s a chance you know of the reveal that Emperor’s previous associate, Duke Stelmane, has been in fact his thrall. Upon further inspection you may gain some seemingly contradicting information and lots of questions with no answers. This post will be long, but I promise that at the end, most of these questions will be answered. Also, there are pictures.

TLDR: Emperor and Stelmane used to be besties before he enthralled her, but they couldn't defeat Gargauth with their power of friendship.

So, for the uninitiated, what are these questions?

Firstly, when the party enters Rivington and Dream Visitor is revealed to be the Emperor, he will tell us about his life, including that he was partners with Stelmane, though he doesn’t say anything about the thrall bit of course. At this point neither he nor the party knows the Duke is dead. As far as the Emperor is concerned, what he shared might greatly compromise him and he never shares such information when he simply could’ve concealed it.

If you poke around, other questions may arise, such as why was Stelmane’s condition improving after the Emperor's visits? Why was she asking for him? Why was she excitedly talking about him at the Tavern? Why did they hug? Why was she at Elfsong, where he could find her the most easily? Why did she drink wine, which he used to force her to do? Why didn’t she warn anyone about him? Why was she looking through people before the stroke? Why would the Emperor mind control her? Why does he keep her portrait next to his desk? Is he stupid?

Now that I have you hooked (probably), let's introduce our cast.

Emperor – The one and only, our favorite topic for daily arguments. Sluttiest waist in game.

Duke Belynne Stelmane – Gods’ most perfect princess. We all agree to fuck the Emperor for what he did to her (some of us literally). She used to be a member of the Council of Four[1] as well as leader of Baldur’s Gate branch of Knights of the Shield[2]. Had ties to Hhune patriar family, possibly even related. Low levels of waist sluttiness.

Gargauth – better known as the Hidden Lord, a powerful pit fiend imprisoned in the Shield of the Hidden Lord. His portfolio includes betrayal, cruelty, political corruption and power brokers[3]. The Shield has been kept underneath Baldur’s Gate for over a century, spreading corruption in the city due to his presence alone. Such is his influence, that on the condition he’s taken away from the city, the crime rate might drastically drop[1]. He is known to have been communicating through the Shield with a past leader of the Knights, providing him with valuable information and helping the order grow in power while trying to gain worship[3]. Only some of the Hhune family and the highest rank members of the Knights knew about his existence, though in the present day no one is aware of his infernal identity[2]. Gargauth will try to steer his current owner towards acts of cruelty and domination in hopes of condemning their soul to the Nine Hells[1]. In the “Descent into Avernus” ttrpg one of the baddies wants to use the Shield to drag Baldur’s Gate into Avernus in the same fashion it happened for Elturel, but a party of adventurers takes it away before this evil plan is realized[1]. No information on waist sluttiness due to being imprisoned in a shield.

Now that I established myself as a squid fucker and Stelmane as a leader of a devil-worshipping organization, I know what you’re thinking – I’m gonna say that the Emperor had to enthrall this evil cult leader to save the city. Haha, no. Keep reading. Here, have a meme so I don’t lose your attention.

I must begin by clearing some misconceptions. It’s easy to assume that because of the Stelmane scene, all the Emperor told us about her up to that point was a lie. It wasn’t. They had a functional relationship before the mind control took place. (If you already know this, feel free to skip to the next meme.) There are two notes in the game pointing us to that conclusion: a journal found in Hhune mausoleum commonly attributed to Stelmane and a transcribed conversation heard in Elfsong tavern.

This existence of a past relationship also explains the portrait of Stelmane that the Emperor keeps next to his desk and one of his dialogue options when the PC hugs him in act 2.

Later, in act 3, he also has some lines painting a vague picture of the relationship’s nature.

So she was beginning to trust him before he caused the stroke. This makes things so much more messed up.

There’s still one written document, which doesn’t make sense, namely Patient Log:

This is clearly written after the Emperor took mental possession of her and caused a stroke. Why then does he help her and why does she keep asking for him?

Have you ever gone into the Hhune mausoleum and saw this note?

After giving up on solving the puzzle and looking it up online have you wondered who is “HE”?

It’s Gargauth, the Hidden Lord.

In “Descent into Avernus” module the party may encounter an NPC who is a member of the Knights; she is kept by Vanathampur family as a leverage in case it transpires that Vanathampurs stole the Shield of the Hidden Lord from the Hhune crypt [1] – the very same mausoleum present in game. And it just so happens that the key to this very mausoleum is in the Elfsong Tavern’s Knights of the Shield headquarters, where Stelmane and the Emperor had their rooms.

That’s not all. When you solve the Hhune mausoleum puzzle, a secret wall will open, revealing a small room full of the Knights’ symbols. If the Shield hasn’t been stolen, the Hidden Lord would be revealed too, just like the note says.

And what is that on the table? It’s Stelmane’s journal I was referring to earlier.

Stelmane had access to the Shield. And if she did, the Emperor had too.

(Kudos, if you already know where I’m going with this.) Here’s my proposed order of events.

Stelmane and the Emperor meet. At the time she isn’t yet a Duke nor the leader of the Knights. Like any normal person she’s terrified at first, but unlike any normal person she’s willing to collaborate for the sake of the Knights and her own ambition.

Due to having an illithid ally she quickly climbs ranks of the Knights. She grows to trust him and vice-versa. Things are as good as they can be for a determined politician working her way up in a corrupt organization and a renegade illithid helping with this task.

They finally advance to the seats of power. Stelmane becomes a Duke and leader of the Knights of the Shield. Perhaps thanks to this position or due to Emperor prying into minds of the members, they become aware of the Shield of the Hidden Lord kept in Hhune mausoleum.

They begin speaking with the Shield. Neither of them knows the true identity of the entity within it and the Hidden Lord does everything to keep it that way. His information and advice is always good, so turning to it for guidance becomes a habit.

Gargauth being Gargauth makes every effort to corrupt them; it’s not particularly hard. Keep in mind they’re not good people to begin with. She’s someone willing to collaborate with a mind flayer for the sake of taking over an evil organization and he’s one DC 20 persuasion check away from enslaving the city. The devil causes their worst traits to flare up and pitties them against each other.

This results in a power struggle which culminates in the Emperor dominating Stelmane and causing her seizure.

The Shield gets stolen and soon after taken away from the city.

Without Gargauth’s direct influence they (especially the Emperor) realize the fuckup, but the damage has been done.

They recognize the fiend’s influence in this transgression. Emperor starts treating Stelmane, maybe they try to make their relationship how it once was, though it might not be possible.

Emperor gets taken by Gortash and soon after is sent on the Astral Prism heist. Events of Baldur’s Gate 3 happen.

That’s all! Have a meme!

Here’s an extra bit for the interested.

The see-through people gaze is most likely caused by Gargauth’s influence. And before that Wyll says:

Sounds familiar? And from one letter in the game we can learn that Stelmane has a mansion in the Upper City, where the patriar families such as Hhunes reside[2]. Could she be related to Thione-Hhune?

Huge thanks for reading it all! What do you think? Did Larian originally plan to have this side-story of an aftermath of Gargauth’s corruption?

Sources in order of referencing (sorry, I don’t have a better system)

[1] “Descent into Avernus”: p.162, p.174, p.225, p.5, p.40

[2] “Murder in Baldur’s Gate”: p.36, p.51, p.39

[3] “Lords of Darkness”: p.151 (all the info)