#she needs to get her shit together and be worthy of him

[widogaspmauk]

E94 spoilers ahead

Very unpopular opinion, I’m sure, but Fearne doesn’t deserve Ashton.

When Ashton fucked up, her reaction was to hit him and try to break his things.

When she fucked up, they were concerned and supportive.

She owes him one hell of an apology to start. Callowmoore was my backup ship for ash if Ashrym didn’t pan out until the shard incident. Now??? Ashton deserves better.

[chipper-smol]

So...... Loop and Odile huh?

v THE OTHER RESPONSE I DOODLED v

yeagh

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead. 

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants. 

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse. 

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit. 

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits. 

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault. 

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim. 

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about. 

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight. 

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine. 

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look. 

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes. 

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror. 

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it. 

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face. 

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him. 

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you. 

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said. 

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same. 

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after. 

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle. 

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to. 

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead. 

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills. 

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself. 

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again. 

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands. 

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones. 

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore. 

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it. 

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her. 

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her. 

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved. 

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved. 

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you. 

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them. 

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?” 

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage. 

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe. 

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again. 

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better. 

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years. 

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan. 

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house. 

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves. 

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home. 

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real. 

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up. 

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this. 

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them. 

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better. 

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad. 

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can. 

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real. 

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand. 

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do. 

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying. 

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch. 

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture. 

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself. 

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob. 

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything. 

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway. 

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since. 

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt. 

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse. 

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better. 

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh. 

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive. 

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped. 

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you. 

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy. 

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns. 

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight. 

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you. 

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room. 

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something. 

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him. 

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said. 

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now. 

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him. 

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face. 

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings. 

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in. 

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.” 

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @allllium  ♡ 

[himbosandhardwear]

Eddie scans the room, looking for who or what he's not sure, just keeping his eyes peeled for something interesting. It's Saturday night, a packed house, some of the usual suspects but some new faces too.

One in particular stands out, especially considering his Sears Catalog attire and artfully tousled hair.

There's something about his loose body language that draws Eddie's eye. He's out of place but he doesn't act out of place. Eddie can respect it.

Unfortunately, when their eyes meet, he gets a kicked gut reaction that makes it clear this guy is off limits. The guy looks away immediately, probably thinks Eddie is more likely to pickpocket him than buy him a drink. Oh well. No great loss, he didn't come to get laid anyway.

He makes his way to the bar, gets a shot of Jack and a Miller Lite and waits. Teddy will probably show up before too long, maybe they can bar hop. He sips his beer and looks around some more, noting the older Mexican lady who runs the flower stand on the corner. You wouldn't guess it just by looking at her but she can drink anyone in the place under the table. He should really get her name.

Sears Catalog has moved to a table on the right side of the room, standing with a presumed girlfriend. Their heads are bent close together. He looks up and catches Eddie staring. They both look away again. He's really gotta stop doing that before he gets hate-crimed. It's a known problem, his type being untouchable preppy boys. He's sure if a shrink studied him, they would say it was because he didn't think he was worthy of love, or some shit, but he can't help it. The straighter, the meaner, the cleaner cut, the more Eddie falls all over himself. It’s a miracle he ever gets laid. Thankfully there’s always closet cases. He swore to himself he wasn't going to do that anymore though, he needs to have some self-respect, not let asshole jocks use him and drop him the second an emotion is displayed.

“That outfit is hideous.”

Eddie jolts in his seat. He finds Sears Catalog smirking at him like what he's said is the height of wit.

Eddie wastes no time pouring the rest of his beer over the guy's head.

He stares back at Eddie in shock, almost hurt. Fuck him. He doesn't care, he's not letting some dumbass gymrat hone his bullying skills on him. Not today.

The guy's girlfriend jogs over with a handful of napkins, which is when Eddie splits.

“I told you not to use that line!” He hears her exclaim. Eddie stops in his tracks.

“But…but...he didn't even let me get to the good part,” Sears laments. Eddie can't turn back around, he's frozen in place.

“Yeah, dingus, because it's a stupid fucking line. I'm sorry you had to find out like this but not every guy who makes eye contact with you wants to fuck you.”

“I know that! I just thought… I don't know. Let's just get out of here.”

He sounds so defeated. Eddie did that. He assumed the worst and reacted accordingly. Like an asshole. Like a bully.

They're halfway to the door when Eddie's feet unstick themselves from the floor. He rushes to intercept.

“What was the rest of the line?” He shouts.

Sears turns, eyes wide, unsure.

His…friend? Looks Eddie over, unimpressed. “What's it to you?”

He winces. “Just…uh…I guess I thought you should know, some of the guys who make eye contact do want to fuck you, they're just too stupid to realize they're being hit on.”

Sears and Mean Friend make their own eye contact. Mostly ‘Beat it' and ‘Are you serious?’ and ‘Yes, oh my god, please go.’

Eddie respects their bond.

Once Mean Friend has sufficiently rolled her eyes and threatened Eddie with bodily harm should anything worse than beer befall her friend, she stalks off into the night.

“You should take it off.”

“Huh?” Eddie responds, stupidly.

Sears smiles. “That's the rest of the line. ‘Your outfit is hideous. You should take it off.’”

Fuck, it really is a terrible line. Something a middle aged creep would use. If he'd waited long enough to hear it the first time it would've made him laugh though, which would have broken the ice.

“Awful. Zero out of ten,” he says while grinning. “Looks like you already offended one guy.” He looks at Sears’ wet shirt, appreciating his own handiwork.

“I'll keep workshopping.” His hand comes up slowly, like Eddie might react badly again. “Steve.”

It's his honor and privilege to clasp Steve's hand in his own.

“Eddie. And can I say, your outfit looks great. It would look better on my floor.”

Steve practically twinkles at him. “Stop, I'm already a sure thing.”

He uses the hand still in his grasp to pull Eddie forward and smash their lips together.

When their grandkids ask how they got together, Eddie is going to have to lie.

[humanpurposes]

Mine All Mine

Michael doesn't have a lot of friends, nor does he want them. Now he thinks he might have found his perfect match, and he has no intentions of letting her slip away

Main Masterlist

Michael Gavey x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, Michael Gavey being a little shit (affectionately), possessive behaviour (yk the drill here)

Words: 7k

A/n: This ended up leaning into more of a cuter side, I definitely wanna do something creepier with him at some point! Also available to read on AO3.

He gets to the room early, before the tutor has even arrived. It’s his first tutorial of the year and his first ever at Oxford. He stands straight with his head up and his hands unmoving, a picture of neutrality. He has his problem sheet in his satchel and runs through the questions in his head, not because he needs to, not because he doubts himself, but simply because he can.

He doesn’t even like maths all that much, but he’s always been good at it. He had considered doing something a little less straightforward, physics or economics, but then what would be the point in getting into Oxford to be anything less than perfect?

He knows his tutor’s name from his schedule, Stephen Breyer. He arrives only a few minutes later and they go inside. The tutorial room is small, with three of the four walls covered in bookshelves. In the centre of the room there is a table, an armchair on one side and a small sofa on the other. 

Michael takes the seat closest to the door. It puts him in a slightly more direct line of sight with Stephen. It also means his tutorial partner will inevitably have to climb over his legs to sit down and the thought amuses him.

“How are you finding it so far?” Stephen asks, unpacking a thermos flask and a notebook from his bag.

“It?” Michael repeats.

Stephen pauses and looks at him, slightly bewildered. “Well, the course, the college, Oxford. All of it.”

“Right,” Michael says. He takes his time taking out a pencil and his problem sheet before placing them on the table. He sits back against the sofa and rubs his lips together in thought. 

He supposes it’s been exactly as he had expected. Lectures have been fairly straightforward, Lincoln college looks the same as it had in the prospectus, and so far, most of the people seem insufferable. So many of them have no sense of urgency, no drive to truly succeed because to them, Oxford is a rite of passage rather than an earned privilege. He’s met maybe one person he’d consider worthy of his time, and even then, Oliver Quick is only a literature student. He might as well get a degree in overthinking.

Stephen is looking at him like he is still expecting an answer. Michael stares back. He’s never been one to bother with smalltalk. 

“Alright then,” Stephen says, then nods to the empty place on the sofa. “Do you know if–”

The door opens and a girl walks in, closing it gently behind her. “Sorry I’m late,” she says, eyes flickering around the room and settling on the space beside Michael. 

He’s seen her before, in lectures, in the dining hall, walking around the college with her little group of friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were all Cheltenham girls by the way they talk and dress in the stupid outfits rich girls wear to make themselves seem like normal people.

He watches her as she walks towards him, the awkward little smile she gives him before she steps over his legs. 

“Sorry,” she says again, falling onto the sofa. Michael almost winces at the sudden jolt of movement and the faint scent of a sweet perfume drifting from his left. “Had some trouble finding the room.”

“You’re right on time,” Stephen says, “we haven’t started yet.”

She’s better at the smalltalk than he is. She has a constant smile on her face and a bright look in her eyes, already having plenty of humorous anecdotes to share, despite the fact it’s only their second week. 

As they go through the questions on the sheet, comparing calculations and answers, Michael is horrified to find that he’s a little nervous. His throat feels dry and he can feel his heart pulsing in his chest. It’s her fault, he thinks. Everything about her is distracting, the sound of her voice, the satisfied little hum she makes when she realises she’s got another question right. Her black tights, the way her skirt rides up her thigh when she crosses her legs.

He wants to think she’s vapid, a pretty face dressed up in black boots and a denim jacket, but to his dismay, all of their answers are the same, down to every detail in their calculations.

That is until they reach the last question. It’s terribly complex and he had almost struggled with it. Almost.

He steals a quick glance at her sheet and notices their answers are different. Because she’s missed a step, he realises. He feels a smile creeping across his lips.

He proudly goes through his working out, delighted at the surprised look on her face as she goes over her own sheet.

“I got something different,” she says with a shrug.

Stephen invites her to talk through her answer. Her voice is quieter and softer than it was before, but not as defeated as he’d like.

“She has you beat there, Mr Gavey,” Stephen says.

It’s like being punched in the gut. “What?”

“Overextend yourself a little,” he explains, drawing a line through the last few calculations on his paper. “Make sure to read what the question asks of you.”

His blood is boiling and his fists are clenched. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been wrong. A dangerous impulse in the back of his mind wants to scream his throat raw and tear his paper to pieces.

Then he feels a warmth settle over his knuckles. She’s placed her hand over his.

“It’s a compliment, really,” she says to him.

He looks up at her, only more infuriated by the gentle expression on her face. But he knows better than to let anger get the better of him. It will only leave him feeling ashamed. So he forces a smile and nods. “Thank you.”

She smiles too, sweet and reassuring. 

He can’t bear the humiliation. Once they’re dismissed he packs up quickly, practically storming out of the room before she even has a chance to stand up. 

He spends the rest of the day in his dorm, looking over the same problem and pulling at his hair, because now his mistake seems glaringly obvious. How could he be so useless? So careless as to not even read the fucking question properly?

His room is on the second floor, overlooking the quad. There are always people around, walking between classes, sitting on the grass, their voices and the smell of cigarette smoke rising and drifting in through his window. He hates it. He hates the noise, the distraction.

But as he goes to close the open window he spots her. It’s only for a moment. She’s walking towards the library with her hands in the pocket of her jacket and her backpack slung over one shoulder. She’s not with any of her preppy friends, in fact she looks rather solemn. 

He feels a slight twinge of guilt in his gut. Perhaps he had been a little unfair to her in their tutorial.

He keeps noticing her, especially at meal times and during lectures. Whenever he enters a room he finds himself searching for her, and if he cannot find her, he waits for her to appear. He plays guessing games with himself, waiting to see what outfit she’ll wear, the pretty mini skirt or a pair of faded blue baggy jeans. If she’ll be with her friends or if she’ll be alone.

He never approaches her. He waits for her to look at him, and once they’ve made eye contact she’ll smile at him.

He likes watching her, and comes to the conclusion that she is charming and polite, but not overbearing, and that’s what's so intriguing about her. She knows how to talk to people, even the most insufferable of their peers, but she’s not nearly entitled enough to truly be one of them.

It’s a Friday evening the next time they actually speak. The library tends to be quieter at this time and he has a textbook to look over before his next lecture. Only, when he goes to find the book, he discovers the last copy has been checked out a matter of minutes ago. Fucking typical.

He goes to stalk out of the library, debating whether or not he can be bothered to ask Oliver if he wants to grab a drink in The King’s Arms, when he sees her.

She’s alone, with her chin in her palm, writing in a notebook as she looks at the textbook open in front of her. He’s willing to bet that’s exactly the book he needs.

He approaches her slowly, waiting for her to look up and notice him, but she seems utterly absorbed in what she’s doing. Only when he puts a hand on the back of her chair and leans over her shoulder does she react to him.

He sees her jump when he gets too close. “Jesus Christ!” she hisses, clutching her hand over her chest.

“Sorry,” he mutters, still hovering over her. “Did I frighten you?”

She hums a laugh but composes herself quite quickly. She turns her head to look at him. “I’m guessing you want the book?” she says, her breath fluttering over his cheek.

He straightens his back so he can look down at her. “Will you have it for long? Only I think I’ll get through the reading quite quickly.”

“Oh yes of course, you’re a genius, right?” she says with a grin.

Irritation scratches under the surface of his skin, hot and restless. That’s how he usually introduces himself, but it’s the truth. 

“We could just share,” she says, gesturing to the empty seat beside her, “that is, unless you don’t think I’ll be able to keep up.”

There’s something exciting about the way she holds his gaze, the hint of a smile on her lips.

She offers to go back a page so he can catch up and admittedly, he skims through, only writing down a few notes before he tells her to move on. He can find the book again if he really needs to.

He has to lean over his left arm rather significantly to read the book properly. She notices this, and pushing it closer to him, shuffling her chair over to follow. They’re close enough that he can smell her perfume again.

“None of your little friends around then?” he asks quietly, so as not to disturb the other students.

“What?”

“That group of girls,” he says, “I’ve seen you sitting with them in the dining hall.”

She brings her chin back to her palm but doesn’t look up from her notes. “They live on my floor. I don’t need to spend every waking moment with them.”

“Touchy subject?” he asks, perhaps a little too hopefully.

His heart leaps in triumph when she looks up at him. “No. I’m just not sure I’d count them as friends, necessarily.”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Not my kind of people,” she says.

“Why not?”

She frowns briefly. He thinks she might scold him for being so direct, for asking so many questions, for being too intrusive. But she doesn’t.

The textbook is forgotten. She tells him about the village where she grew up, a sad little place by the sounds of it. She spent most of her schooling surrounded by the same twenty or so kids.

“For a long time, I knew there was something people didn’t like about me,” she says. “I didn’t understand why. I was never rude or cruel, I just kept my head down and did my work. The other girls told me I was a freak, the boys used to tease me, pull my hair, tear pages out of my books. Mum said people hated me because I was clever. Dad said I should stop complaining. So I did.” 

He can’t help but draw a comparison to himself. He can feel it when he meets someone new, the inherent distrust, the sense that there is something inherently unlikeable about him. In a way he likes that people are unnerved by him because at least it’s something he can control. He has never been one for friends or common ground, a consequence of being the smartest person in every room.

He watches her intently as she tells him about a private school a few miles outside of her village, a proper posh place, Victorian buildings and sprawling estates. For her, it was her one chance of escape, and while her parents worked hard to make ends meet, the only way she was going to get in was with a scholarship. So she worked for it, got all A*s in her GCSEs, started at the posh school, and from there, set her sights on Oxford.

“You’re rather deceptive,” he says.

She smiles at him. “It’s not like I lied. Were you expecting a daddy’s money brat?”

“There’s enough of them about,” he says.

She huffs a laugh and rolls her eyes. “Fucking tell me about it.”

They start to make a habit of studying together, at first it’s by coincidence, and then she gives him her number so they can organise themselves more effectively. They meet at the library every Friday to share a textbook or go over problem sheets, in preparation for their lectures. They even start to meet before their tutorials together, to compare answers and make sure neither of them are left out. Sometimes they go for coffee after their classes, and branch off to chat about things that aren’t maths.

He tells her about the grammar school he went to, that most of the boys there were rugby playing morons. He tells her about his family, his mum, his dad, the family cat that’s been around longer than he has. He tells her about his summer, running numbers for his uncle’s accountancy firm.

She tells him about the posh school, that starting at a boarding school was like being thrown into a different universe. Sure, she had been the odd one out and got the odd “povo” comment, but it was the first place where she had felt like she didn’t have to be ashamed of her own intelligence. She learnt how to fit in, to the point where he can’t tell if she actually likes her preppy friends or if she just puts up with them for the sake of it.

He starts to wonder if he could consider her a friend. He likes that she’s smart and sharp, the slight air of competition when they compare notes or go through a problem together. He likes challenging her, making her second guess herself, watching the way she squirms and tries to hide that she’s flustered. Just once, he thinks it would be fun to one-up her, but of course, she never slips up, and she never makes a mistake.

On Halloween she mentions a party at Magdalene College being hosted by one of her old school friends. Of course he’s sceptical. Hanging around a bunch of stuck up posh kids, who no doubt will all be in slutty costumes and getting off on each other’s egos, isn’t exactly his idea of fun. Although, part of him is intrigued to see her in a different setting.

So he agrees to meet her outside her dorm at 10pm exactly. He doesn’t bother with fancy dress, opting for jeans and a black jumper so that he can just fade into the background. 

She appears with some of her preppy friends. They’re all in pastel dresses of differing colours, matching wings strung on their backs, glitter on their cheeks, a little pack of fairies. She’s in white mini dress that floats around her thighs as she moves, more like an angel.

She introduces him enthusiastically to the girls, already giddy from their pre-drinks, pink gin and rosé. None of them seem that interested by his presence and he grunts in response. 

She links her arm through his as they walk over the cobbles, through the maze of ancient buildings to the dorm where the party is being held. She talks about everything and nothing. She tells him who’s going to be there, who’s been uninvited but might show up just to stir shit, how many girls are going to be there and that they’re all going to be trying to get into Felix Catton’s Calvin Kleins.

“Are you going to get with anyone?” she asks.

He makes a sound of disgust.

“Come on, Michael, live a little!” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think– I don’t know–”

She puts her hands on his shoulders and turns him to face her. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

He swallows thickly. It’s not something he’s ever been ashamed of before, now it feels like a weight crushing down on his chest. “No,” he says, simply, determined to remain indifferent.

“Get with someone tonight!” she says excitedly, “just for the fun of it, we’ll find you someone good.”

He hates the idea, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her. Perhaps it seems like fun to her, but to him it seems like an impossibility, and he thinks he’d rather have the consistency of being unwanted.

The party itself is loud and sparsely lit by neon lights. He starts off on bottles of beer to ease himself into it, but seeing everyone else is doing pills and white lines, he thinks he might need something stronger to get through the night, especially when she keeps getting distracted. The angel is quite the social butterfly and insists on saying hello to everyone, even the people she’s never met. 

He finds himself in a common room and reaches for a bottle of whisky and a cup when he spots her. She’s leaning against a wall, wings discarded on the floor beside her. A tall boy, wearing nothing but jeans, a pair of feathery costume wings and a horrible Carpe Diem tattoo on his forearm, has his hands on her waist. She’s smiling and giggling into his neck every time he goes in to kiss her. Of all the girls Felix could go after.

His skin feels tight. He fears if he keeps having to watch this little display he’ll retch his guts up, and yet he’s utterly hypnotised by it, the way she had her arms around his shoulders, the way her fingertips trace the base of his neck. And fuck, he’s never seen her look so beautiful.

He ends up downing the rest of the whisky straight from the bottle and most of the night becomes a blur after that. At some point he thinks he starts trying to talk to one of her pastel fairy friends. He doesn’t catch her name, and he wouldn’t care to remember it anyway. She plays with his glasses, tries them on and giggles hysterically. He thinks she must be completely off her face, considering the look of utter disgust she had given him at the start of the night.

Somewhere in the noise of the party she throws her arms around his neck and they sway clumsily to the overwhelming bass of the music. He thinks he feels her lips graze his cheek, his jaw, his neck, but where he can help it, he keeps his eyes on his angel. Felix has one of her legs around his waist and his hands halfway up her skirt. 

Fuck this.

He pushes the nameless girl off him and storms over to put an end to the scene before him. He grips Felix by his shoulders to pull him off her, grabs her by the arm and drags her out of the dorm. He doesn’t look back to see if Felix protests, he’ll probably find some other throat to stick his tongue down. 

She tries to shout over the music. “Where are we–”

“I’m tired,” he snaps, bringing his face in close to hers. He gets closer than he means to, pressing his nose and his forehead against hers. He’s breathing fiercely, he realises, desperate to contain the full extent of his anger, his jealousy. “I want to leave.”

She stares back at him with parted lips, and nods.

He feels better the moment they’re outside, away from the disorientation of the party. He takes deep breaths of the night air, cold and sharp in his lungs. He snatches off his glasses, runs his hands over his face and his hair to find himself drenched in sweat.

His angel tucks herself in against him, under his arm, huddling her arms around herself and shivering.

“Do you want my jumper?” he says. His voice and the words on his tongue feel strange. His limbs feel weightless as he pulls it off and helps her into it. 

“Hmm, thank you,” she says dreamily, clinging onto his arm as they stumble back to Lincoln College. He burns where she touches him, her fingertips digging into his skin. He loves it, and hates that her hands were on someone else before him.

“You were getting rather cozy with Miranda,” she says.

“Who?”

“Lilac fairy costume,” she says, playfully hitting his arm. “Did you kiss her?”

His heart sinks. He presses his lips together but she doesn’t seem to pick up on his annoyance. “No,” he says with a tight jaw.

“Oh no,” she says, looking up at him with a comically sad pout. 

“It’s not important,” he says.

“It’s your first kiss! Or should have been your first kiss. It’s important. Did you at least have a good time before you got tired?”

“No,” he says, “your friends are all imbeciles.”

They walk the rest of the way back to her dorm in silence. He makes sure she has her keys, holds her face between his hands and tells her to drink a whole glass of water before she falls asleep. 

She leans into his touch with a sleepy smile. “Yes, yes, I will,” she whines.

The sound stirs a wanting in his stomach. Suddenly his heart is beating faster than it ever has before.

“And call me if you need anything–”

“Would you want to kiss me?” she asks.

His eyes flicker down to her lips. His hands are still cupping her cheeks. “What?”

Her eyes are wide and alert. “I just mean, I could be your first kiss, if you wanted to.” She places her hands on his wrists, tracing her fingertips over his skin, along his forearms. It’s such a simple touch, and yet he can feel it driving him slowly insane. 

He imagines her hands running over the rest of his body, down his chest, his stomach, teasing over the growing hardness in his jeans.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, terrified of how desperate his voice might sound.

She rises onto her toes, inching her face closer to his, drawing her nose over his cheek. “So?” she says, lips brushing over his skin, “I promise it’ll feel good.”

Their lips find each other in a simple movement. It’s easier than he thought it would be, following the movements of her mouth, letting his hands fall from her face and rest on her waist. He can feel her breathing, the little hums she makes as she kisses him and runs her hands through his hair.

He decides, in that moment, that she is perfect. She is bright and beautiful, passionate and kind, soft and sharp, everything he wants for himself, the only person he has ever felt a need for. That need burns through his bloodstream, goes straight to his head and makes his mind hazy. It tightens in his gut and only makes that wanting feeling in his chest feel emptier. His heart races, his trembling hands graze over the thin, silky material of her dress.

His glasses come askew. He feels her smile against his lips and it feels good. Really fucking good.

His hands clench into a firmer grip on her waist. He needs to keep her close, to touch her, feel her, know she wants this as much as he does.

Only she’s slipping away.

Her hands come away from his neck and the cold night air stings his skin in her absence. She pulls her head away, not abruptly, but that’s the pain of it. He leans forward to chase her lips but he has no choice but to let her go in the end.

She looks up at him with a vague smile. “See? It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice in the moment. Pure torture that he’ll have to spend the rest of the night clinging onto the memory, only able to imagine how good it felt.

After that night he cannot escape the thought of her, when he’s in his lectures, when he’s in the library, when he’s walking between classes, when he’s in the dining hall. If he’s with her he cannot help but notice every little detail about her, her clothes, her hands, the colour of her nail polish, every micro expression, every word, every laugh, every sigh.

And when he’s alone, he can’t help but picture her in that white dress, the sound of her voice, the feel of her lips. He can’t help but imagine what it would be like to run his hands over every inch of her skin and make her a breathless, whining mess. When he’s in his dorm, it’s inevitable that his hand will end up dipping into his boxers, stroking himself until he spills over his knuckles with a grunt or a whisper of her name.

He’s never known himself to be so distracted.

Worst of all is the rage that comes with the wanting. He hates walking into the lecture hall to see her chatting to someone else, seeing her with her preppy friends around the college or drinking with that old school friend in the King’s Arms. None of them deserve her. None of them. Does she even realise it? How long before she loses herself, before she decides she doesn’t need him?

He knows he’s not a sentimental person. He doesn’t have a lot of friends nor does he want them. People have come in and out of his life, but this girl is different. He feels a draw to her, a hunger that he can’t satiate with his own imagination. She is everything he wants for himself, and he has no intentions of letting her slip away.

As Michaelmas terms comes to an end, the colleges and libraries are covered with garlands and wreaths. Despite the lingering worry in the back of his mind, Michael is rather happy with his collection of outcasts, though poor Oliver Quick seems rather unhappy at being a designated Norman-No Mates. 

He finds it easier to get her attention as the term and the workload progresses. They’ve had tutorials and summative assignments, and she’s finally starting to struggle. 

And then there was the incident about the scholarship. One of the preppy friends let slip that she wasn’t paying for her tuition fees or her accommodation, likely done out of jealousy after she’d gotten close to Felix at the Halloween party. He was there for her with a perfectly good shoulder to cry on when half the girls in her dorm started teasing her for it.

He tells her that she doesn’t have time to get distracted with parties or friends who won’t help her succeed. 

He’s sitting at a table in the library, ready for one of their Friday evening study dates. She’s late but soon hurries in, pulling off the thick red scarf she has wrapped around her neck and shrugging off her denim jacket.

He has the textbook open at the right page and places a Crunchie in front of her when she sits down.

“Did you know there was a college Christmas party tonight?” Michael asks as she takes down her notes. “We’re NFI, apparently. Not fucking invited.” He’d checked his pigeonhole, and Oliver’s for good measure. 

In the corner of his eye, he sees her look up from her notebook. 

“As if we’d actually want to hang out with those vapid cunts,” he says, laughing to himself. He turns his head to check if she’s laughing too.

She doesn’t look very amused. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me,” she says.

He pauses, hovering his pencil over his worksheet. “You got an invitation?” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” she says, “I was chatting with some of the literature guys the other day, you know Farleigh Start–”

“What the fuck were you talking to him for?” He asks in a voice like ice.

She stares at him with wide, almost accusing eyes. “What, am I not allowed to talk to anyone besides you?”

“They’re not worth your time so stop acting like a fucking bootlicker” he hisses. “They’re all self-obsessed and cruel, and I don’t know why you’re so desperate for their approval.”

“Desperate,” she echoes.

The silence of the library is screaming at him. He has an awful feeling in his stomach, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s pushed a little too far.

It’s Halloween all over again. He can feel her slipping away, and he can’t reach out for her, can’t hold onto her and make her stay where he wants her. He curls his fists as he feels his body start to tremble.

“I guess I won’t waste any more of your precious time then,” she says sharply as she starts to pack up her things.

“No,” Michael utters. He reaches his hand up as if to stop her but she stands up, out of his reach. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She throws on her jacket, wraps her scarf around her neck and turns around, glaring down at him with sad, glassy eyes. “I need to get ready,” she says. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” Then she sweeps out of the hall with a cold rush of air and a slam of the doors.

Michael groans and lets his head fall into his hands. How had he managed to fuck up that badly? 

He can’t think about the problems on the sheet in front of him, or think about the reading from the textbook. All he can picture is her in some skimpy dress, letting some sick trust fund baby put his hands all over her. It makes him want to tear his hair out. 

He stays there until the evening has turned to night, until any other stragglers have left the library, to attend this stupid Christmas party or to make their own fun.

He can’t understand why she keeps trying to befriend the people who would abandon her the moment they got bored of her, the very same people who shamed her for her scholarship. 

He’d never leave her, never let her feel anything less than worshipped.

When he finally packs up his bag he finds himself walking to her dorm. A few girls are leaving as he arrives at the building and he easily slips in while they’re busy chatting. He knows which floor she’s on, and then all he has to do is find her name on one of the doors… and there it is, under the number 205. Perfect.

He glances up and down the hall. It’s deathly quiet. He wonders how many students have already cleared out of their rooms, how many will be at this party, at the pub with their friends.

He can hear music on the other side of the door, a voice singing softly to a song he doesn’t know.

He brings his knuckles up and taps four times against the wood.

She seems happy when she opens the door, but her face falls when she realises it’s him.

He buries his hands in his pockets, keeps his chin down as he looks up at her. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

She sighs and purses her lips, but steps aside enough for him to come into her room. 

It’s not as neat as he imagined, but it’s cosy. There are photos and posters all over the walls, clothes strewn everywhere, an opened makeup bag on the floor by the mirror, pieces of paper and used mugs on the desk. His eyes are drawn to her bed, to the colourful comforter tossed carelessly over the duvet and the pile of mismatched pillows. It smells like her perfume, and something else that is distinctly her.

A red dress hangs on the front of her wardrobe, her outfit for the party, he guesses. For now she’s dressed in her favourite pair of baggy jeans and a tank top, her hair slightly damp and her skin dewy.

She sits on the edge of her bed with her legs crossed. She doesn’t prompt him, but he knows what she wants to hear.

He stands in front of her, his knees almost touching the bed. He tries not to look at the cut of her tank top, the way it clings to her torso and teases the swell of her breasts.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “You were right, I was being unfair.”

She looks up at him, furrowing her brows and catching her lip between her teeth, like she always does when she’s thinking. It makes his stomach drop. 

“You can be cruel too, you know that?” she says, “and so full of yourself, but you hold it against everyone else you meet.”

“But I’d never lie to you,” he says, “and I’ve never pretended to be someone I’m not.”

She keeps frowning. “Neither have I.”

He hums a laugh. He can’t help but reach for her, taking her chin between his fingers. She doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t question it when he gently strokes his index finger over her cheek. “Silly girl,” he says, “you care too much about what people think of you. You’re smarter than that, but you’re happy to hide it.”

Her breath hitches as tilts her head further back and lets his thumb drag over her lower lip.

“Michael,” she utters, pressing her palms against his chest, but not enough to push him away. Her hands grip at the collar of his jumper and she nudges her nose against his.

He doesn’t know where the sudden recklessness comes from. Perhaps it’s in the way she said his name, the way her eyes are gazing up at him, but every part of him feels hollow. 

He leans in closer. “Why bother? Why do you want to dumb yourself down when I could just fuck you stupid?” 

She leans in to kiss him and he indulges her, letting his hand settle against her cheek as they clash together in a mess of lips and tongues. It’s more frantic than the night of the Halloween party, wetter, clumsier.

She comes up onto her knees, snaking one of her hands down to the hem of his jumper.

“Have you fucked a girl before, Gavey?” she says between their kisses. He can feel her smiling.

“No,” he says, practically tearing his jumper and his shirt off, “but I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Anyone in particular?” she says, palming over the bulge in his jeans.

“Who do you fucking think?”

His hands are on the buttons of her jeans, ripping them open, dragging them down her legs before she’s on her knees again. He slips his hand between her legs, against her clothed centre and she ruts against him like a bitch in heat.

With his other hand he grabs at her waist, impatiently pulling her tank top over her head to reveal a lacy black bra underneath. He can’t stop himself, planting firm, desperate kisses over the flesh of her chest as he undoes the clasp.

He tosses her bra aside and takes one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue over the sensitive bud. He loves how she whines for him, how she runs her fingers through his hair and pulls when it feels good.

And then her phone rings.

She sighs in frustration before she shoves Michael away and crawls over to the table by her bed. 

Michael groans at the loss, wanting nothing more than to grab her and pull her back across the bed. “Who is it?” he asks, adjusting his glasses.

“Could be Farleigh, or one of the girls, I said I’d meet them before the party–”

That’s all he needs to hear. In an instant he’s on top of her, pinning her wrist to the mattress so she can’t reach her phone, legs on either side of her body as he presses her down.

She writhes underneath him, unintentionally grinding her rear into his crotch. She tries to turn her head over her shoulder, but it’s hard when she’s caged in underneath him. “Michael! What the fuck are you–”

“When are you going to get it into that pretty little head that you don’t need them?” he says, letting his lips brush against the shell of her ear. He feels her shudder, feels her heartbeat racing against his chest.

“I know I don’t need them,” she says.

“Hmm,” he says, leaning back to undo his jeans enough to free his hard and eager cock. I’m not convinced.”

He takes his time pulling her panties down her legs, kneads at her thighs and her ass, pulls her hips up and parts her legs so he can get a look at her slick, glistening cunt. He’s almost fascinated by it, drawing his thumb through her folds, noticing how she reacts to his touch, the sounds she makes, the way she fists the bedsheets when he gets close to her clit, but just enough to keep her on edge.

“I could be so good to you,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her shoulder, “so fucking good, so why do you act like you don’t need me?”

“I do,” she breathes, interrupting herself with a light moan when he presses firmly against her clit. “I do need you.”

“There you go, you’re starting to get it,” he coos, circling over her most sensitive spot with the pads of his fingers. He may not have the practice but he has the knowledge, and he needs this to feel good for her.

She responds beautifully, sighing and rocking her hips against him, and she just melts when he presses the tip of his cock against her entrance.

He has to push harder than he expects, pausing when she gives a little yelp of what sounds like pain, but she assures him she’s fine.

He grabs her hip for leverage, hissing through his teeth as he pushes in deeper. She’s so tight, so wet, so warm.

“You can move,” she says, letting her head fall against her arm. “Please, I need it.”

He starts slowly, focuses on the drag of his cock through her, the way she stretches around him, but he can’t hold back for long. Once he finds a rhythm he gets a little more reckless, snapping his hips against her rear, keeping his harsh grasp on her flesh as he fucks her into the mattress.

Her moans are heavenly and obscene. She’s given up struggling but she’s trying to look at him, trying to touch him but she can’t. She calls his name and it sounds so pathetic but so endearing.

He chuckles lowly to himself. “Silly little slut, didn’t know what she was missing, did she?”

“No,” she whines. He can feel her clenching around him and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to last. “Fuck, Michael, it feels so good…”

He pulls out of her, only to turn her back and slam back in. Suddenly she’s all over him, running her hands down his torso, wrapping her arms around his neck. She has her face buried into the crook of his neck, grazing her lips, tongue and teeth over his skin. 

It feels good to have her close, but he’s still not entirely satisfied. 

He pulls away to hold her down again, one hand on her throat, the other on her stomach. “Mine.” he huffs as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “All mine. Fucking say it.”

She places her hands over his, urging him to hold her tighter, press harder. “Yours,” she utters, “all yours.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans, and feels her respond to his voice, cunt fluttering, back arching, another whine sounding in her throat— maybe she likes that. “My clever little girl.”

He feels her come undone around him, back arching as he lets out a breathless moan, practically squeezing him to his own release.

He pulls out and with a few strokes of his hand, paints her belly and her thighs with his spend.

She’s trembling, smiling, reaching out to touch him again, grabbing at his wrists and pulling herself up. She guides him to lay back in the bed and straddles him, tracing her finger over his lips, his jaw, along his nose to push his glasses up for him. He can hardly see through them, the lenses fogged up and smeared with sweat.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” she says.

“Yeah,” he breathes, pawing at her hips, watching his cum as it drips down her body. He can feel a sense of pride swelling in his chest, the arousal in his gut starting to tighten again.

He gasps when she drags her wet cunt over his already hardening cock. “You.. want to go again?”

She tilts her head, looking down at him with that familiar excited look in her eyes as her mouth spreads into an eager grin. “You’re adorable,” she says, tracing her fingertips over his chest, down the lines of his abs, to the trail of thin hair on his navel.

She leans down, reaching between them to take his cock in her hand, moving with agonisingly slow strokes. When he tries to protest she silences him with little more than a peck on his lips, before she trails down to his throat. “I stand by what I said, Gavey, and you’re not leaving this bed until we’ve taken that ego of yours down a notch.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

[silversodas]

Interesting Alastor Insights

I think I may have figured out what was up Alastor’s ass in Dead Beat Dad. On one hand it may be a deeper issue that I am missing some context for, but I actually think it’s a little simpler then we think.

Even before Lucifer arrived, Alastor was clearly not happy about him coming over, and yes Alastor was 100% full of shit in the dad off song, BUT! Something note worthy is that he was not only being possessive of the Hotel (claiming to be its host and even greeting Lucifer as the master of the house does) but is also weirdly possessive of Charlie

And right down to the “fuck you” to Lucifer’s face it was projecting “get your feet off of my damn coffee table and get outta my house” energy. At first I was wondering what crawled up Alastor’s ass and died, and then Hell’s greatest Dad starts playing and..

“Who’s been faithful as a Nun? Who’s been here since day one?”

And it dawned on me and I was like “Alastor, why are you acting like your being replaced?” And Charlie is just as confused at Alastor’s behavior, like this came out of nowhere. Apparently Alastor was determined to show Lucifer who the Genie of this bottle is. But I didn’t believe it at first, I was like “nah it has to be something else” but then Mimzy gave some VARY interesting insight

When Mimzy first arrived, Alastor has a look that says (oh this is all I need right now) but he still seems happy to see her

Like holy shit, he happily reciprocates the hug, but that’s not to surprising if you know who Mimzy is if you have been fallowing Viv for a while

When she mentioned that he frequented the club (speakeasy)that she preformed in I was like “oh! They are drinking buddies!” Drinking Buddies are someone you generally only know the fun side of because you only hang out together at the bar, but Mimzy highlights a different side to their relationship

“Put on some Jazz, and pour a few fingers of Rye, and he becomes a kitten”

This gives me insight that while they were alive, she wasn’t just his drinking buddy and dance partner, she was his comfort zone. The way she phrased this sentence, made it sound like this was something she used to do for Alastor when they were alive, maybe she was a soothing presence as well as an entertaining one in Alastor’s life. But bar friends can sometimes be pretty high maintenance friends outside the bar, actually I think a lot of us have had something close to a friend like Mimzy in our lives. Apparently she is so bad that even Husk is concerned enough about Alastor to try and talk to him about her

“You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something. That bitch is trouble, and who knows what demon she fucked with to come running to you this time”

Alastor’s response threw me for a loop

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t worry Husker, who would cross me?”

So Alastor is not immune to having toxic friends? I always assumed he would just drop anyone who became to much trouble, this is an interesting surprise. And on top of that he’s…an enabler!? Huh…that is super interesting to know. Putting a pin in the rest of this interaction for another post because there is a lot to unpack with husk and alastor. Except for the being on a leash thing because it made me realize something.

What if the reason he felt upstaged by Lucifer was not because Lilith told him to keep him away (yeah I am subscribing to the Lilith theory, it’s to much to Be a coincidence) but because he is legitimately afraid of no longer being needed by Charlie? What if, if he isn’t needed by Charlie then he has to go back to wherever he was the last 7 years? Everyone assumes he is free because he acts as such, but is he? Like real question, what if he was a straight up gift to Charlie in a way? Even if it was a “look after my daughter” command I would still call that sending a gift.

And oh man, what if he was suppose to tell the whole truth to Charlie but gave the whole, “I am here for entertainment” speech instead.

And your probably thinking, Charlie wouldn’t tell him to leave. Yeah but does Alastor know that? And he probably thinks Lilith might call him back anyway if he is not needed but just hanging out. But as we have seen, he cant even except his own situation

I will unpack this whole encounter later, but for real I don’t even think he is that mad at husk, he was mad at the reminder that his soul doesn’t belong to him any more. Like look at his face, it’s the most upset we have ever seen him, and it’s so detailed. He looks enraged, but also hurt at the same time. He and Charlie are not friends, yet, but I think he does feel some what safe at the hotel and maybe that’s enough for now

I also think there is some stock in Alastor hating that Lucifer is a bad dad theory, because that contempt was so raw and he did calm the fuck down a little bit during the “more then anything” song

But those are my random insights of Alastor, there were more but this is already to long I just hope it’s coherent

[love-belle]

modern day romeo and juliet !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their love was the modern day romeo and juliet, with a happy ending.

or 

for when you find your forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language, alludes to sex, mentions of sex, whatever.

author’s note - hello!! i REALLY hope u all like this one bc it was so fun to write like it was so chuckle worthy so i really hope u enjoy it!! thank u so much for reading, i love u <3 i will try to post once more tonight bc i have 10+ drafts rn with almost 20 requests and i'm trying to do them all one by one, thank u so much for being patient <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe, carlossainz55 and 873,268 others

yourusername got railed and he walked out and came back with cherries and roses for me??? is this true love???

8,628 comments

username Y/N OH MY GOD

username THIS GIRL HAS NO FILTER HELP

username THE CAPTION OMG

lewishamilton boss man is on his way to confiscate your phone

-> yourusername thank u for the heads up 🙏

username MOMMY??????

username IM SCREAMING WHY IS SHE SO BEAUTIFUL

username the caption has my jaw slacked

lilymhe girl it's the truest love

*liked by yourusername*

username no bc i would happily d!e if someone did that for me like CHERRIES AND ROSES AFTER SEX WOAH

username me pretending like i can relate to this knowing damn well my single ass is getting none

username don't be scared gf drop his @

carmenmmundt i'm going to ignore the caption and just say that you look gorgeous baby

-> yourusername as if u weren't the first to message the gc BUT THANK U MY LOVE

-> username not y/n exposing carmen 😭😭😭😭

username god when will i have this ?

landonorris gross we don't need to know that

-> yourusername look away child

username we really lost mother this time huh?

username i can only imagine the look of horror on toto's face

charles_leclerc idk to me it sounds like it's TRUE true love

-> yourusername RIGHT??? that's what i was thinking

username charles what r u doing here

-> username thoughts are being thunk rn

username to have someone who would bring me cherries and roses after getting railed :///

username oh she's GLOWING

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱ 

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 874,926 others

charles_leclerc the water's getting colder let me in your ocean

8,627 comments

username CHARLES???????

username GOODBYE

username NOT HIM QUOTING CHASE ATLANTIC OMG

username i just wanna know who got him quoting this song I SWEAR

username NAH MY MAN'S DOWN BAD

carlossainz55 my eyes.

-> charles_leclerc why do you think i texted the gc before posting???

username WHO IS SHE OMG

username SWIM OMFG

username girlies we officially lost him

username y/n soft (hard) launched her man too and now charles.............are we seeing this shit

-> username i have made the connection

-> username u didn't make shit

-> username i have made it

maxverstappen1 please there are kids on this app

-> charles_leclerc look away landonorris

-> landonorris ur both just as bad as each other

-> username not to alarm anyone but that's EXACTLY what y/n said on her post

-> username oh.

yourusername swim 🌊

-> charles_leclerc swim 🌊

-> username WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱ 

liked by paddockgirlies, y/nwolff44, f1wags and 62,628 others

paddock.club charles leclerc and y/n wolff spark dating rumours after they were spotted out on a date, only adding into them as they shared a kiss. leclerc and wolff have been having coy interactions on social media for a while now but they were barely seen interacting outside the paddock. both of them, separately, have been hinting at a relationship for a few weeks now although we had no reason to believe that they were together, until these photos resurfaced. click on the link in our bio for more details about the new potential f1 couple.

3,527 comments

username OH MY GOD

username WHATCTHEBFUCK

username pretty people (charles) ruining it again for the poor (me)

username i will be taking months to recover from this thank u.

username charles is really on his path to get y/n disowned huh

username THOSE THIRSTY ASS POSTS MAKE SM SENSE NOW

username they're MY romeo and juliet

username this information is life altering like ACTUALLY

username y/n this isn't u babe come home the kids and the cats miss u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ u can bring him too ig

username charles leclerc i am under ur bed

username not a vroom vroom guy stealing my wife the fuck

username i would do anything to be at the mercedes garage rn

username i had already made the connection

-> username u didn't make shit

-> username i had already made it

username they'd be such a power couple like WOAHHH

username BOTH of my parasocial relationships are in shambles rn

username off topic but she's so barbie coded and he's just ken

username MOTHER and then it's just some silly guy

username HOW'D HE PULL HER 😭😭😭

username charles leclerc teach me ur ways

username if he can pull someone like y/n then i have hope for myself

username no bc i don't know who to be more jealous of

username not the entire comment section bullying charles and thirsting over y/n 💀💀💀

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱ 

liked by charles_leclerc, susie_wolff, francisca.cgomes and 898,724 others

yourusername his swagless looks and cringe fail personality have captivated me

tagged charles_leclerc

11,628 comments

username PLEASE

username OH MY GOD

username SIS REALLY CAME FOR CHARLES LIKE THAT

lewishamilton finally someone addressed the swagless looks

-> yourusername listen i love him but it had to be said

-> charles_leclerc both of you are dead to me.

username SHE'S SO UNSERIOUS I LOVE HER

username she really secured the rival team's driver for future use for her dad and roasted him on the internet while announcing their relationship

-> username this is the most y/n thing y/n has ever done

-> username i know who my 🐐 is

-> username that's what i call iconic.

francisca.cgomes this is the equivalent of u saying "where the hoes at" im heartbroken

-> yourusername babe i just said that so i could avoid that area

-> username fuck charles and pierre it's kika and y/n ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username bf who is so babygirl and gf who is just a silly little guy

-> yourusername im getting this comment framed and hanging it above the mantle

username i apsire to be her

charles_leclerc can't believe i got violated by my girlfriend like that

charles_leclerc mom amour why

charles_leclerc this is unbelievable

-> yourusername relax i'll fuck u let me be funny first

-> charles_leclerc ........yeah okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-> username CHARLES 😭😭😭😭

-> username Y/N OMG

-> username i fucking love this girl sm

susie_wolff please answer my calls. - toto wolff

-> yourusername give susie her phone back

-> susie_wolff call me. and have charles call me too. - toto wolff

-> yourusername who's that question mark

-> susie_wolff y/n y/m/m wolff. - toto wolff

-> yourusername goodbue ou mu god

username toto is throwing another set of headphones i can FEEL it

username parents 🙏🙏🙏

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, georgerussell63 and 899,724 others

charles_leclerc ma belle looked so pretty today i almost cried

tagged yourusername

12,728 comments

username GOD WHY CAN'T SOMEONE LOVE ME LIKE THIS

username OH MY GOD???????

username need a man to be obsessed with like RIGHT now

username i cried leclerc get on my level

*liked by yourusername*

carlossainz55 almost?

-> charles_leclerc haha don't make me block you.

-> landonorris is he wrong tho?

-> charles_leclerc no comment.

username HE'S SO OBSESSED WITH HER AHSJSJKAK

-> username can't blame him bc SAME

-> username if my girl was y/n i would be too tf

georgerussell63 you are toto's number 1 enemy!

-> charles_leclerc i have been living life in fear since the day we started dating

-> yourusername i kinda like u too much ur sticking around

-> charles_leclerc ahahahahahahhahaah!!! okay!!!!!!! ahahahahhaha!!!!!!

-> lewishamilton y/n he's doing that thing again

-> yourusername he'll be back to normal i swear just give him a min

-> username same charles SAME

susie_wolff so happy for you both 🤍

-> susie_wolff i will be seeing you at tonight's dinner, leclerc. - toto wolff

-> charles_leclerc thank you so much susie 🤍

-> charles_leclerc babe your dad is being mean again yourusername

-> yourusername dad.

-> susie_wolff can't wait to see you, charles. - toto wolff

-> charles_leclerc why was that more threatening than the previous one.

yourusername good. need a man on his knees crying and screaming and throwing up bc im too hot

-> charles_leclerc you can have me like that anytime of the day just saying

-> yourusername BOY MY DAD'S ON THIS APP

-> charles_leclerc YOU ACT LIKE YOU HAVEN'T SAID WORSE

-> yourusername catch these hands

-> charles_leclerc we're now holding hands haha! this is nice!

-> yourusername u dumbfuck i adore u so much what.

username im SICK rn like OH MY GOD

username i see u on street and it's on SIGHT for destroying my carefully curated parasocial relationship

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, danielricciardo and 798,626 others

yourusername he got jack's approval and that's all that really matters

tagged charles_leclerc susie_wolff

7,816 comments

username HE MET THE FAMILY OFFICIALLY OMG

username what would i do to be an atom during this whole vacation

username JACK AND Y/N MY BABIES ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username JACK APPROVES WE WON

landonorris does toto like him?

-> yourusername we're making progress.

-> danielricciardo does it look promising?

-> yourusername uncertain but hoping for the best.

-> carlossainz55 copy. keep us updated.

-> charles_leclerc why are you like this

username JACK MY FAV WOLFF FRRRRR

username i think charles is traumatized by now

username SHE LOOKS SO ETHEREAL IN THE THIRD SLIDE LIKE OH MY GOD?????? A LITERAL ANGEL???????? IM SPEECHLESS

-> username charles it's ok u can comment from ur main acc

*liked by yourusername*

username THIS WHOLE FAMILY HAS MY HEART

username susie and wolff the ultimate power couple 🔥🔥🔥

username baby brother agreed everything is ok now

carmenmmundt missing my love

-> yourusername i miss u so bad

-> carmenmmundt i was talking about jack but i miss you too ig

-> yourusername fuck u actually

username well he got 3/4 wolffs on his side that's something ‼️‼️‼️

susie_wolff had the most amazing time, y/n!! even toto said "it was okay." ❤️

-> yourusername i love u guys sm ❤️

-> susie_wolff he still not getting within 6ft radius of you. - toto wolff

-> yourusername dad u do realise that everything that had to happen has happened?????

-> susie_wolff i suddenly need to talk to him. very urgent. - toto wolff

-> charles_leclerc WHY DO U NOT WANT ME TO HAVE A GOOD TIME

-> yourusername oh shit sorry dw u will be fine!!!!!!!!

username i missed the whole wolffs content sm :///

username BABY JACK AND Y/N

charles_leclerc little dude loves me

-> yourusername after u brought him 26281927 toys

-> charles_leclerc a win is a win

-> yourusername ok babe.

charles_leclerc your dad is looking at him like he wants to break my every bone while counting i am scared

-> yourusername just say that i would be upset if he did that

-> charles_leclerc he left me alone thank you my love ❤️

-> yourusername anything for u ❤️

-> username is toaster waterproof???? let's find out!!!!!!!

-> username they make me feel single in 262828 languages it's not funny anymore

username to have what charles and y/n have :///

username if my relationship isn't exactly like this i don't want it.

username they're my parents ur honour

[mythicmanuscripts]

This blog is now officially my favourite and I'm totally addicted to all your content on Aemond and Aegon.

There was a comment on how Aemond probably immediatly tries to fulfill all his wives wishes even if it wasn't serious (that one was mainly about killing people but anyways) and I was wondering if we could get some thoughts on a situation where he can't to that. Maybe they're travelling and she mentions how much she would love a hot bath or her own bed (without meaning anything by it) and he just can't do anything about it

I should have known that one of you lads would find a way to make that crack post serious and a little angsty. We love torturing men on this blog.

There is implied sub!aemond in this answer but no explicit thoughts so I won't be letting you all hide behind a cut, you know what you're getting into here!!

So for anyone who missed the ask this is referencing: I made a joke a while ago about how Aemond would reach a point where he's just no thoughts head empty do whatever pretty wife says. Aemond is a service sub through and through and he absolutely loves being able to do things for you. More than just like it, he takes extreme pride in it?

Not just because he's your submissive, but because he's also your husband. He needs to know he's being a good husband, that he's worthy of a wife like you and he gets genuinely distressed if he thinks he's disappointed you or angered you in any way.

When this specific thing happens, I like the idea of it maybe being when you're both travelling somewhere on Vhagar? Like maybe all the members of the royal family are expected to show their support for something all the way up at Winterfell. Most of them are all going by horse and carriage, but Aemond of course would take Vhagar and he asks if you'd like to join him. Aemond LOVES when it's just you, him and Vhagar and he absolutely adores flying and travelling with you. Plus, Vhagar loves you just as much because from the moment she met you she knew that you were so good for Aemond.

Anyway, the point is that you were able to instead go by comfortable horse and carriage, stopping at inns every day and being welcomed by all the common folk in the area. Instead, you chose to leave a week after everyone else with Aemond and to fly on Vhagar instead, which is only a three day journey because of how fast she is and how long she can fly for.

But those three days flying means that for two nights you're pretty much just camped out wherever Vhagar lands for the day. Right from the start Aemond offered to check the maps and find inns for both nights but you told him not to bother.

You know that Aemond will be uncomfortable staying in inns, especially because he's so recognisable and so he knows all the people in the area will want to speak with him. Forcing him to show up at Winterfell and show his public support for something he couldn't give less of a shit about is bad enough, he doesn't need to also be a roadside attraction for two nights.

More than just that, you know Aemond could really really do with three days of just you, him and Vhagar.

The first day of flying you don't even speak much. You're seated behind Aemond, your hands wrapped around his waist and it's just perfect.

When Vhagar lands for the night, you set up camp while Aemond checks around to ensure it's a safe place to spend the night.

When he comes back, you have everything set up and you make an offhanded comment that you miss your nice warm bed. You don't even think much of it and continue putting the twigs together for the fire. It's only once you have the fire going fully that you realise Aemond still hasn't come to sit with you and has instead stayed standing where he was when you made the comment.

You ask him what's wrong, and to your shock he's silent for a moment before he asks, "Do you not want to stay with me?"

You have no idea where that came from, and when you ask he says that you mentioned missing your bed. You can't help it, you have to laugh at your sweet husband. You motion for him to come sit with you and when he does, you link arms with him and lean against his shoulder.

"Of course I want to," you tell him, "it was just an offhanded comment, I love being here with you."

You can feel him relax a little, no longer sitting as straight and tense, but he's still not satisfied. He speaks up again, "I don't know what to do," he says, "I can't... I can't do anything about that."

You frown and lean more against him, pressing a kiss under his jaw and telling him that he doesn't need to do a thing. You promise him that you love being with him, and that you never would have agreed to come if you genuinely didnt want to sleep out here with him.

Even with that reassurance, he's still a little unsettled throughout the night, and you can see this by the way he tries even harder than usual to please you. He double and triple checks that you don't want anything, he folds your clothes himself, he offers you extra blankets, just does everything he can because he feels like he's failing you by not being able to make you comfortable.

You can see he's spiralling, and I actually think the best thing to do might be to give him a command? No amount of reassurance will help his brain relax, he needs to feel like he has done something good for you.

Maybe you just have him brush your hair for you? There's not much you can ask him to do in the middle of nowhere, so you grab your brush and ask him to take your braids out your hair and brush it through. He's so so gentle with it, really taking his time to ensure he doesn't pull you.

When he finishes you turn to face him and give him a kiss, thanking him for helping you and telling him how much you're loving being with him.

After you arrive at Winterfell, Aemond tells you that he never wants to travel another way with you again.

[f10werfae]

Expect the Unexpected Baby

pairing: Henry Cavill x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Henry breaks up with Y/n, only to discover he’s left something of his behind, his baby. Does he try and reconcile? or Does he just accept the path he’s made? (requested by @depressedneedingrevenge )

Likes, Comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️ Library: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist Lumberjack!Henry

“Are- Are you really doing this to us Henry? I thought you said we wouldn’t give up on us?” Y/n sniffled taking off her engagement ring, watching as Henry packed the rest of his stuff from their house, he had only broken up with her a week prior. “Bab- Y/n I- you know I didn’t want this, I’ve got to work for longer, I need someone that’s willing to be there for me, give me something to come home to”

“So because I still haven’t been able to provide you with a baby, a family, i’m suddenly not worthy enough to keep you? Is that what it is?” Y/n snarked throwing her ring at him, watching as he scoffed and lugged the rest of his luggage out, throwing his house keys to the floor; leaving Y/n alone in the now lonely house. Y/n felt sobs wreck through her body as she collapsed to the ground, the sobs were so hard to a point where she felt herself gag and had to rush herself to the toilet.

Recently the couple had been on the edge of it, after being told their chances of conceiving were low due to Y/n’s hormone imbalance, their hopes and dreams of building a family together was shattered. As a result, they grew distant, both of them focusing on their careers as an actor and as a nurse.

“Shit, fucks sake” Y/n groaned pulling herself up from the bathroom floor, looking at the now broken version of herself in the mirror, “You’ll be okay Y/n, you’re stronger than this” She whispered to herself, studying the look on her face before forcing out a smile. This wasn’t the end of her happiness, Y/n L/n was a strong woman who was capable of anything if she put her mind to it; that includes being a single mother.

A few weeks after Henry had left her, Y/n fell ill to a point where her best friend Jess had to sleepover constantly just to make sure she ate properly and didn’t collapse from exhaustion. “Y/n You should really see your doctor, this surely isn’t normal, you’re a healthy young woman” Jess winced as she patted her friend’s back, watching on as she continuously vomited into the toilet bowl.

“I’m scared, come with me?” Y/n whimpered sitting back and wiping her mouth with a spare towel, her stomach had not been able to stomach anything but saltine crackers and water; she just wasn’t feeling her best at all. Usually it was Henry that accompanied her to the doctors, knowing how bad her anxiety got, but now she had no one; well Jess of course.

“Of course babes, wouldn’t let ya go there on you’ own, give me the number and i’ll book the appointment for you” Jess said taking Y/n’s phone and finding the practice’s number in her contacts, phoning them then and there to schedule an appointment for the next morning, it was an emergency after-all.

So off they went the next morning to the doctor, who out of the blue asked if she was sexually active after hearing the ongoing symptoms, was this normal? “Uh- well I was a few w-weeks ago” Y/n stuttered watching her doctor note things down and click a few things on her computer. “Miss. L/n, i’m going to need a urine sample if that’s alright?”

“What do you think is wrong with me?” Y/n whimpered holding onto Jess’ hand tightly, after giving in her sample all she had to do now was wait, and thankfully the practice wasn’t as busy today and she’d be able to get the results on the same day. “Nothing chick, you’re sweet, I know you are and it’s probably just something from a bad takeout-“

“Miss L/n, I have the results” The doctor smiled walking into the box white room, a clipboard in hand as she sat down in front of Y/n.

“You’re 2 months pregnant”

Y/n felt her world stop, was she really about to have a baby? That thought was out of the question for her, she thought she was destined for a childless life, and she’d spend everyday blaming herself despite it not being her fault at all.

“A-are you sure Dr. Brown? I thought my chances of conceiving were low? Is the baby okay? Wait- are you joking with me?”

“I said your chances were low, not impossible Miss L/n. Now we can talk through your options now, or, you can choose to go to the front desk and schedule for your first sonogram” Dr. Brown smiled already knowing Y/n’s answer, watching as Jess stood up cheering beside her gob smacked, and now pregnant, best friend Y/n.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Why does he look like an alien at 8 months?” Jess giggled looking at the baby L/n on the picture, it’s head looking odd with the 3d angle. “Shut up you, don’t listen blueberry you’re already so handsome” Y/n cooed looking down over her stretched stomach, seeing the imprint of a foot push against her marked skin, the stretch marks telling a story of hardships.

“i’m actually going to be the best god-mother, going to spoil the hell outta him” Jess smiled feeling the tiny babe kick at her hand, now that Christmas was in a few hours she felt it would be best to spend it with Y/n, who was unfortunately unable to spend it with family this year. “Yeah course you are, look Jess I know you hate me saying this but, have you tried calling Henry again? I know you hate his ass but, he deserves to know about blueberry right?”

For the past few weeks Henry had clouded Y/n’s mind, sure he had broken her heart, but she couldn’t help but yearn for his touch and love especially now that she was carrying the perfect mix of them both. Her baby blueberry. Anytime she tried to call him, it would cut off, meaning he had now changed numbers which would make sense. He was now working on a movie somewhere abroad, so he would need a new cell; unfortunately meaning he had now lost complete contact with her.

“Y/n L/n, you don’t need a man, you’re a strong independent mama alright?”

“I know I know, but if there’s a chance I don’t have to go through this alone, even just as a co-parent- OW FUCK” Y/n suddenly exclaimed feeling a strong pulse of strain go through her pelvis, her had going to support her stomach, protectively caring over her baby boy.

“Y/n, okay shit uhm, we gotta get you to a hospital your water has broken early sister; we got a Christmas present comin’ in hot”

“B-but is it not too early?! Blueberry isn’t due till later January” Y/n groaned feeling another contraction ripple through her body, groans leaving her body as Jess helped her get into the car, her body sweating despite the cold air. Pouting Y/n tried to calm herself down by talking to her baby, the single mother had only began nesting, buying hundreds (not exaggerating) of baby grows and bottles; even decorating the nursery with a DC theme to honour her relationship that produced her source of light.

“I don’t give a fuck honey, we just need a doctor, AND QUICK” Jess shouted out the window once they arrived at the emergency bay, immediately catching the attention of on duty nurses and doctors who skilfully transferred Y/n into a wheelchair, an oxygen mask being thrown over her head once inside the hospital to stabilise her breathing.

Y/n felt her whole world being turned upside down, nurses pushing her to God knows where, her hair now tied up by one of the doctors who just knew exactly what she needed then and there. When all of a sudden a dark haired man caught her eye as she was wheeled past A&E,

“Henry?” Y/n said drowsily through her mask, watching as the man turned his head just at the right moment to make eye contact with her, she’d know those blue eyes anywhere. “Y/n? Y/N?!” Henry shouted seeing his ex-fiancée being wheeled away in emergency, groups of nurses and doctors all fussing around her. Forgetting his hurt hip, his instincts took over and he found himself rushing after the woman he still loved, the woman he left for a job opportunity that he thought would fulfil the emptiness of not having a family.

Weeks into working abroad did he realise, Y/n was his family, he realised a bit too late. His contract was signed, he wouldn’t be able to return home for good until he finished this new series, he wasn’t able to come home; that is until now. Henry Cavill was back home, sure he was injured, but he was home back on the soil.

“J-jess, Jess that w-was Henry. I-if something happens, make- make sure he sees blueberry okay?” Y/n cried throwing her head back from the pain once she was carried onto the bed, her best friend panicking beside her realising the seriousness as she was made to sign a “next of kin” document. Her friend’s life was in danger.

“For fucks sake Y/n, you’re going to be okay ya hear me? You’ll be able to show him to Henry yourself once you get this baby out, y-you have to!” Jess sobbed, there was no way in hell she was letting her friend accept death, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. “Excuse me miss if you’re not the father/partner, due to COVID regulations we can’t allow you in here”

The nurse said apologetically quickly ushering Jess to the door, “Are you guys serious?! She’s scared and in pain, there’s no way i’m leavin’ her here!” Jess fought trying to wrestle her way back to Y/n, “J-jess i’m scared, I don’t wanna do this alone” Y/n cried reaching for her friend, the doctors around her were buzzing with adrenaline, grabbing all sorts of equipment and liquids.

“So you’re telling me the baby’s father can be here right?” Jess exhaled, sprinting once she got the nod of approval from the nurse, relief filling her once she ran into the red-faced Henry who had clearly been running circles around the hospital after losing track of Y/n.

“Look Henry, no time for questions you need to fuckin run to room 304, Y/n is having your baby and- and she’s alone and scared-“

Not even letting her finish Henry began running for his life, not caring about his swelling pelvis, the people shouting at him to slow down; he just needed to see his Y/n and his baby. It didn’t take long for him to find the room with people constantly moving in and out purposefully, introducing himself to the nurse from earlier, she smiled gratefully handing him scrubs from the storeroom.

“Are you Henry? She’s been screaming for you even when we gave her some medication to calm her down” The nurse whispered bringing him into the room, his eyes widening seeing her laying down on the bed, her legs propped up. “H-Henry is that really you?” Her voice rasped, a tired smile on her face as she reached out for him, not wasting a second his hand intertwined with hers.

“So we’re having a baby huh?”

“Yes, our blueberry”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Wow h-he’s gorgeous” Henry smiled tearing up, his finger softly running over his tiny son’s cheek, the delivery hadn’t been easy at all with even there being mentions of a possible C-section. Thankfully Y/n was able to deliver naturally with help from an epidural, and honestly she was just glad to have someone by her side.

“Yeah he’s perfect, our blueberry” Y/n smiled nuzzling her cheek against her baby, his small fingers outstretched on her breast as he fed eagerly. The both of them cooing as he heard his tiny grunts, “Poor chap, musta been starving” Henry joked meeting Y/n’s tired eyes, truthfully she had never looked so beautiful to him than at that moment.

Not just because she had just birthed their child, but because she still smiled at him the same way she did all those months ago; not an ounce of hatred to be seen. “Yeah, s’jus like his daddy I suppose” Y/n giggled, just feeling relieved her baby boy was now here safe and sound. The room falling into a comfortable silence before Y/n revealed the name, “His name is Clark, it’s not up for debate just so you know” She joked smoothing the slight hairs already showing at the top of his head.

“Y/n, i’m home now, let me do it right this time”

“We can talk about that later Henry, let’s just look at our baby, please?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“ Blueberry, where are you?” Y/n giggled pretending she couldn’t see her now one year old hiding behind his daddy, who was busy building the new batman Lair they had gotten Clark for Christmas. The tiny tot giggling as if his dark curls weren’t visible from behind his daddy’s arms.

“Babe, have you seen our blueberry anywhere? Was gonna give him kisses and cuddles” Y/n playfully pouting sitting beside Henry on the floor, knowing damn well Clark was on the other side of him giggling triumphantly. “No sorry momma, haven’t seen the champ since bath time this mornin”

“Well I guess m’gonna have to give you his kisses and cuddles instead then” Y/n smirked peppering kisses to Henry’s face and lips, her arms hugging her man tightly, knowing damn well that would coax her baby Clark out of hiding. “NO MAMA” She heard him screech, rapidly tumbling out of his spot like superman and clinging to his momma, pushing Henry as hard as possible.

“Ah! There he is, my baby blue” Y/n cooed blowing raspberries into his neck, her smile widening as his laughs grew louder; Henry’s arms coating around the both of them, bringing them into his side. After Y/n had given birth, they worked hard together to co-parent alongside couple’s counselling, finally reaching the last stage by moving back in together and functioning as a healthy couple. Some turned their noses at Y/n taking him back, whilst others scoffed at Henry for being “baby trapped” But the couple knew it was no one else’s business but theirs, if they were happy and if Clark was happy, what else mattered?

“We need to tell Jess to stop buying him so many complicated toys” Henry sighed turning the screwdriver as he built another floor of the batman building, “You know this is her way of punishin’ you right?” Y/n laughed letting Clark nuzzle into her neck, a sign he was getting sleepy and running out of energy.

“I know, and i’d do this a hundred times over, just to see the lil guy destroy it into pieces happily” Henry chuckled seeing his mini me slowly fall asleep in his girlfriend’s lap, leaning over he placed a soft sensual kiss on her lips; an act he now got the privilege of repeating every single second, minute, hour and day.

“I love you Y/n, n’ I hope you know that, i’ll keep reminding you anyway”

“Ya wont need to, as long as you’re here with me, i’ll know you love me and you’ll know I love you too” She whispered against his lips, kissing the corner of them lightly. “I think we’re due for a family nap, i’m feelin like pulling a Clark and hiding in mama’s neck too”

———

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[ladykailitha]

Sweet Surrender Part 4

Here we are guys, the end of the sequel of the summer Valentine fic. Thank you all who liked, commented, and reblogged this lovely story. I love seeing my regulars interact with their comments and tags. It's makes me so happy.

And if regularly do and haven't lately: I get it, it's not always easy to comment (whether as a comment or in the tags) on every part, just know I missed seeing them.

Sadly no prom-posal because they can't really go together-together, but Eddie did go over and ask in person. He's not a complete idiot.

This is my longest "chapter" I've written clocking out at 3700+ words because I refused to split it up further dammit!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Damn it scheduled for 10pm not am but here we are just a few minutes late.

~

Eddie sat at the back of the class as he always did, trying to come up with ideas of what to do for prom. Because of course Steve said yes.

Steve’s eyes lit up and he swung Eddie around chanting, “Yes, yes, yes!” until the pair of them fell to the floor giggling like children.

They kissed and laughed until they couldn’t breathe.

Steve already had a suit, he really hadn’t grown that much since the funeral and just needed a nice cummerbund to make it school dance worthy. So he didn’t go with the Hellfire boys to get their tuxes.

Jeff had gone for a blue suit jacket with black pants and bow tie with a white button up. Gareth went for a double breasted black jacket and bow tie with matching pants. Brian had picked up a white jacket and bolo tie with black pants.

Eddie though?

Eddie had gone for a thin black neck tie and tight dress pants and then was going to wear his leather jacket over the top.

Steve was positively salivating at the thought.

They were sitting at the table discussing prom ideas when Nancy came up to Steve.

“Hey, do you have a date to prom?”

Steve and Eddie shared a concerned glance before Steve just shrugged.

“These guys didn’t get dates either,” he explained, “and offered to let me go with them as a group. Why? You asking?”

Nancy’s face twisted in disdain. “No, of course not. I’m not going to that meaningless high school mating ritual.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Jonathan didn’t want to go, huh?”

“He won’t let me pay.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stomped her foot.

Steve rolled his eyes and shared a glance with Eddie who shared his exasperation.

“What do you want, Nance?”

She pursed her lips and looked down at the floor. “I thought that if you had a date, then we could double and Jonathan wouldn’t feel pressured to spend a lot of money.”

Jeff and Brian looked at each other and then burst out laughing with Eddie joining in.

“Tell me you’ve never been poor without telling me you’ve never been poor,” Brian huffed out between gales of laughter. “Jesus H. Christ, he’s gonna feel even more pressure to spend a lot because he’s gonna see Stevie here go all out for his date and he’s going to get flustered and upset he can’t do the same for you then there’ll be huge fight, leaving you stranded at the prom waiting for Mommy Dearest to pick you.” He wiped away a tear of laughter.

Steve nodded and then half shrugged. “I’m with him on that one. It’s a guy thing. You’re out to wound his pride and you’re only going to catch hell for it.”

“Here’s a thought, Nancy Drew,” Eddie said with a menacing grin, “why not skip it and do it next year. At your actual senior prom since he’s so worried about it. Give him time to save up for it so he can do something nice for you and stop pushing people around.”

Nancy’s jaw dropped and she turned to Steve. “Are you just going to sit here and let him talk to me that way?”

Steve swirled in his chair to look up at her. “We aren’t dating, and he’s not wrong. Plus, I’ve been asked to prom by a couple of very forward girls and had hints broadly dropped that I should ask them to prom. Tammy Thompson was the worst of the lot. Talking about how a king should be with a proper queen or some shit like that. And I’ve turned them down because all of them want the Harrington charm and money and not me, also they’ll want sex or worse, to go steady and I just can’t handle that right now.”

He looked pointedly at her.

She frowned for a moment and then her eyes went wide and her mouth formed a silent ‘O’.

“Yeah,” he said, turning in his seat to out his back between them. “So you’ll pardon me if I don’t want to do you any favors.”

She slunk off back to the table with the rest of her friends and Jonathan.

Gareth shook his head. “The absolute nerve. Jesus Fucking Christ.”

Steve could only agree.

~

“Come on, man,” Gareth huffed, crossing his arms. “If we all pool our money we could rent a limo and show up in style.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

They were all sitting around Gareth’s garage making the final plans for prom.

“Dude, you could,” Steve agreed. “But those things take up at least three parking spots and you will have the rest of the student body hate your guts for all of time for it being in the way of everyone else.”

Gareth slunk further into the couch with a sneer. “It can’t be as bad as he’s making it out, he just doesn’t want us to have any fun.”

“That’s because you were a freshman when Tommy H. and Carol Perkins did it for junior prom last year,” Steve said, shaking his head. “They got so much shit for it, and it took Tommy bullying certain people to get it to stop.” He raised his hands. “Something I didn’t condone by the way.”

Jeff winced and shook his head. “Hard pass on being hated more than we already are.”

“I’m with Jeffy on this one Gare-bear,” Eddie said with a grimace. “Let’s take Mr. Romance’s advice on this one, yeah?”

“Fine!” Gareth growled. “But I refuse to get in the fuck ugly Bimmer of Steve’s and I’m not to be seen in these nice suits in Eddie’s van.”

“I never said we couldn’t rent a car,” Steve said reasonably, “just that we shouldn’t rent a limo.”

Suddenly the four other boys were leaning forward in their seats, looking at him in rapt interest.

“What did you have in mind, Stevie?” Eddie asked, slowly licking his upper lip.

“Who hasn’t had the dream of showing up to school in a shiny convertible?” Steve asked with a smirk. “It’ll be nicer than a limo, and most likely cheaper, too. And of course I bet we could get Eddie’s Uncle Wayne to rent it for us, with the little bribe that he gets to drive it around first.”

Eddie threw back his head and cackled. “That would work! He would love the little bribe, too.”

The other three boys looked at each other before Jeff said, “All in favor of getting nice convertible for prom?”

All the hands went up and Steve sat back, looking like that cat that got the cream.

~

Steve stayed over at Eddie’s the night before the dance. The plan was that after lunch, Steve would go home and get ready for the dance and then Eddie would pick everyone up for dinner then they would go to the dance.

Eddie had other plans, of course, but Steve didn’t know about those. Yet.

Around ten o’clock in the morning, with the two boys still tangled up in each others limbs there was honking of someone’s horn, followed by Wayne yelling at them to get the hell out of bed.

Steve and Eddie blinked bleary-eyed at each other for a moment before the fog of sleep cleared and they were on their feet in an instant. Steve threw on some sweats as Eddie yanked on a pair of jeans. They were out the door before Wayne could honk again.

He was leaning up a red 1984 Chrysler LeBaron five seater with white upholstery with the top down. His arms were crossed and had the biggest smile on his face.

“So what do you think, boys?” he said cocking his head to the side. “You think it’s fancy enough for that dance of yours?”

Eddie and Steve shared matching grins. They ran down the stairs in their bare feet up to Wayne and the car.

Steve was already running his hands over the body of the car. “Wayne, she gorgeous. She wasn’t too much was she?”

Wayne shook his head. “You boys’ money more than covered it for the night. I’ll return it tomorrow with a full tank of gas, no worries.”

Eddie hugged his uncle tightly. “Tonight is going to be the best night ever!”

Wayne hugged him back as Steve continued to admire the car.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to find one that would fit all of us,” he breathed, “but fucking hell. It’s perfect Mr. Munson!”

“I’m glad you’re happy with it, Steve,” Wayne murmured as Eddie let go of him to follow Steve around the car. “Brian will probably have to sit in the front seat to be comfortable, but other than that, you’ll be golden.”

“Well, old man,” Eddie said after Steve and he looked over every inch of the car, “She’s all yours. Just bring her back by five so I can pick everyone else up.”

Wayne chuckled and opened the driver’s side door. “She really is a beaut, Ed. I can’t wait to let her unwind on the open road.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, knowing that he wanted to do the exact same thing. He followed Eddie into the trailer, a skip in his step.

Eddie made for the kitchen to starting making them breakfast and Steve sat down at the small table they had nearby.

“So we’re going out to eat at Enzo’s,” Steve murmured. “Which I really don’t want to know how Gareth pulled that off, considering everyone goes there for prom and getting reservations are vicious. It’s almost a blood sport.”

Eddie chuckled pulling out the eggs to scramble. “Gareth’s mom is friends with the owner and she always has a standing table there.”

“Well that’s a relief,” he said wiping his brow. “I thought he had murdered a couple of our fellow students for the privilege.”

“I love that it’s Gareth you think would be the murderer,” he called over his shoulder, “instead of anyone else coming with us tonight.”

Steve half shrugged and started counting them off on his fingers. “Brian is a staunch pacifist, Jeff gets sick at the sight of blood and you are so sweet that it’s impossible to believe that would harm anyone unless they started shit first.” He tapped his fingers on the surface of the table. “But Gareth is the quiet one and everyone knows that serial killers are the strong and silent types.”

Eddie poured the beaten egg mixture into the heated frying pan and began to stir it around.

“I guess that makes sense,” he said after a few moments. “I love your absolute faith in me, by the way. If there were any serial killings in this town, the mob would come after me first.”

Steve sighed. “True that. Unfortunately.”

Eddie scooped the cooked eggs onto two plates, bringing them over to the table with a couple of forks.

They settled down to eat. After a few minutes of silence Steve asked. “You thinking of doing anything after the dance? I know we haven’t really talked about what we’re doing after.”

Eddie got that soft secret smile that made the butterflies in Steve’s stomach take flight. “There might be a couple of things I might have in mind.”

Steve shook his head fondly. “And let me guess, it’s a surprise and I’m not supposed to know?”

“Yup!” Eddie replied with a grin. “No eat up, I have plans for this morning...” he wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

Steve started immediately shoving egg into his face to Eddie’s cackling glee.

~

To say Steve was nervous would be a fucking understatement. He’d never been picked up for prom before and not knowing when Eddie was going to show up only made his anxiety spike further.

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t know when Eddie was going to leave to start picking everyone up, it was that Steve was third after Brian and Gareth, who were first and second respectively.

In his hand was a corsage for Eddie. It was black rose wrapped in a silver ribbon. And he was doing everything in his power not to crush the clear, plastic box it was in.

There was a knock on the door and Steve’s face fell a little when he saw it was Gareth at the door.

“Wow,” Gareth snarked, “don’t look all excited and shit to see me or whatever.”

“I–I guess I was expecting Eddie...” Steve muttered. He shook his head and tossed the box on the table. “I’m ready to go.”

Gareth frowned a little bit and then his expression cleared when he saw what was in the box. “Oh hell no.” He held up a finger and dashed back to the car. He yanked Eddie out of the driver’s seat and toward Steve’s door.

As they neared Steve heard Gareth grumble, “You are not fucking this up already!”

Eddie opened his mouth to protest when he saw Steve at the door looking dejected. He snapped it shut with an audible click. He saw the box on the table and looked back at Steve.

“You got me flowers?” he breathed. He couldn’t believe it. He had told Steve that he was taking care of everything.

But he forgot one thing and the fact that Wayne hadn’t brought it up, meant that Steve had gotten it for him as a surprise but told Wayne to keep Eddie from buying one for himself.

Steve gulped down the lump in his throat. “It’s just a silly corsage. The other guys aren’t wearing one, so I’ll just tak–” he reached up to remove his own white rose corsage when Eddie put his hands over Steve’s.

“No, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. “I screwed up. I was supposed to be wooing you tonight and I already misstepped. I should have come to the door to pick you up. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled still trying to remove his corsage.

Eddie took his face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Baby, it is. Because it’s important to you. So what we’re going to do is, you’re going to stop trying to remove yours so it doesn’t get ruined,” and immediately Steve’s hands dropped to Eddie’s waist. “Good boy, now the next thing you’re going to do is pin that pretty flower you got for me on my leather jacket and then we’ll go get Jeff, okay?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and then nodded. Then with trembling hands he took the black rose out of the box and pulled out the pin that would be used to attach it to Eddie’s jacket lapel.

Eddie wrapped his hands gently around Steve’s quivering hands again, this time to calm him. “Take your time, Stevie.”

Steve took a deep breath and looked Eddie in the eyes.

“There you are, princess,” Eddie cooed at how much calmer he looked now. “If it helps, I can knock on the door and we can start over.”

Steve shook his head but took a step back. He brought Eddie’s lips to his and kissed him deeply. “This will just be some stupid story we tell our grandkids when we’re old and grey.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Only a month in and you’re already planning our grandkids! And I thought I moved fast.”

“Nope!” Steve teased, kissing him again. “You move fast, I move faster.”

Eddie giggled as a more confident Steve pinned the corsage to his leather jacket. They walked out and got into the LeBaron. Steve hopped into the back seat with Gareth who grumbled under his breath.

“I told him he should have gone up there and not send someone else, but noooo,” he muttered darkly. “I’m a little squashmore who’s never gone on a date in my life, what would I know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Rub it in. And where oh font of wisdom did you gain such knowledge, hmm?”

Gareth erupted, throwing his arms in the air. “I watch movies!” he huffed as Eddie pulled out of the driveway. “My mom and brother love romantic comedies. The dude always goes to the door unless he’s meant to be the douchebag loser.”

Steve burst out laughing. “He’s got you there, Eds.”

“Mistake made,” Eddie said dryly, “lesson learned.”

They got to Jeff’s, who’s mother had gotten Brian, Gareth and her son all corsages. They all had a single red rose to match Eddie’s black and Steve’s white roses.

“Ooh,” Eddie murmured. “Uncle Wayne was playing the long game, wasn’t he? He told you not get me and Steve corsages because Steve had them covered, didn’t he?”

Mrs. Laurence shook her head, barely containing her smile. “Steve coordinated it with me and I filled your uncle in.”

Eddie shook his head fondly and took Steve’s hand.

She took pictures of everyone in the tuxes and then sent them off with a wave.

~

Dinner was amazing. Especially with Steve gently guiding them with which forks to use, the meal was delicious and company was even better.

Their waiter even commented that he wished him and his friends had thought about just getting dressed up anyway and going to prom as friends. It would have been better than them sitting at home eating pizza and feeling sorry for themselves.

Steve just smiled up at him as the rest of them filled him on the rest of their plans. Well... all but Eddie anyway.

They got to the dance and while Mrs. Click was absolutely fuming, she couldn’t bar their entry because there was nothing in the rules that said they had to bring dates and as long as they had their tickets, she had to let them in.

Eddie took great pleasure in smiling at her as they walked into the gym.

The theme was of course Sweethearts so the gym was decked out in hearts of every size and of every shade of pink and red imaginable.

Steve chuckled as Jeff and Brian gagged. Gareth smacked them upside their heads and went off in search of punch, the other two boys shuffling behind him.

Eddie and Steve stood at the entrance a moment.

Eddie rocked back and forth on the balls on his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide how never he felt. “So what do you do at a dance when you can’t dance with the one you want to?”

Steve looked over at him and tilted his head. “Make yourself as big a menace as possible, of course.”

Eddie grinned as Steve grabbed his wrist and they melted into the crowd.

~

About an hour into it, Eddie led Steve away from all the loud music and sweltering mass of teenage bodies.

“Eddie!” Steve protested with a laugh. “Where are you taking me?”

Eddie just cackled and kept pulling him along. They got the drama room and Steve was amazed he could hear the music.

“How?” he whispered.

Eddie grinned again. “They have speakers in here from the gym. They’re usually turned off as some brave stage crew managed to figure out a way to stop it from streaming in so kids could practice their lines and shit and not have to listen to basketball scores, but I got someone to turn them on for us.”

Steve turned to him in shock. “Us?”

Eddie nodded and led Steve further into the drama room. It was decorated in fairy lights and sparkling hearts.

“Oh, Eds...” Steve breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“I paid one of the drama kids to do this for me so I could surprise you,” he murmured.

Just then a soft love song came over the speakers and he held out his hand to Steve. “Dance with me.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle and folded into Eddie’s arms. They danced cheek to cheek to the music and were still dancing slowly when the song changed to something more upbeat.

“I was so worried I couldn’t dance with you up there,” he murmured into Eddie’s ear, “and then you went and found a way for us to do it down here instead. God, I love you so much, sunshine.”

They kissed and danced until the announcement came over the speakers that they were crowning the prom king and queen. They walked back to the gym hand in hand.

“I tried to get myself removed from the ballot,” Steve said softly just as they reached the doors. “I told them that I didn’t want even be here, but they refused. Said that I was nominated by someone else and only they could remove from the ballot. They wouldn’t even tell me who. But then you came along and I still don’t want to be prom king, but I figured at least being here with you would be worth the price of admission.”

Eddie smiled and kissed him gently. “I think you’d look pretty in a crown, darlin’.”

Steve let out a nervous giggle. “You would.”

They let go of their hands and walk back in.

Steve made prom king. Like everyone assumed he would. And even though Billy hadn’t been on the ballot he came in second place with a lot of write-ins. Steve suspected that Billy had actually won, but as he wasn’t on the ballot and the principal not wanting it to go to a thug like Billy Hargrove had cinched Steve’s bid for the crown.

Prom queen was Tammy Thompson. Which she obviously had insider knowledge of when she broadly hinted to him to take her to prom. She even hissed about him probably wishing he had taken her when he had the chance as to not leave her poor date standing there on the sidelines.

Steve just smiled and nodded and suffered through their dance.

Once it was all done, he handed the bouquet of flowers to Jeff, the sash to Gareth and the crown to Brian.

“You’ve got nothing left, baby,” Eddie murmured as they walked out of the gym and into the darkened halls of the high school.

He gave Eddie’s hand a quick squeeze. “No, Eds. I’ve got you.”

That night after they had done all their after dance activities, they would make love in the back of the LeBaron under the stars at the quarry after they had dropped everyone else off and in the morning after they waved off the LeBaron as Wayne drove it back to the rent shop, Steve would drag Eddie back into the shelter of the trailer and kiss him senseless.

But until then, they had each other and that was enough.

~

Also if you saw this yesterday NO NO YOU DID NOT!

Tag List: COMPLETE

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @spectrum-spectre

2- @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

3- @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv

4- @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @dam28lh

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @fullpoetrybread

7- @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @moonshadows-13

8- @skyewaytohell @swimmingbirdrunningrock @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @lololol-1234

9- @dotdot-wierdlife @ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself

10- @w1ll0wtr33 @kultiras @sadisticaltarts @micheledawn1975

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part eight

part nine: see you come running

Eddie was slowing realizing that introducing Robin and Nancy to the Corroded Coffin crew was the perfect way to lose all of his sanity in one go. Eddie had continued chatting with Robin and bouncing ideas off of her but nothing was clicking and Eddie finally broke down and decided the whole crew needed to come together over pizza to write and score some not cheesy but totally grand gesture worthy songs for Steve.

Eddie's label wasn't thrilled with the abrupt u-turn from an angsty heavy break up album to a single song in that vein and then sappy love songs for the rest of the album but thankfully Corroded Coffin had earned enough cachet over the years that Ronnie was able to convince the label that the songs would still have their signature flair just less angsty and more romantic -- more I would bleed for you and less I would watch eagles rip out your intestines and laugh.

As a group, Corroded Coffin was generally ambivalent towards love most of the time. Ronnie was not interested in dating much more content with her plants and foster kittens. Jeff had been dating the same girl since kindergarten basically and while she was lovely and totally worth swooning over, Jeff had gotten his cheese out early on through middle school notes passed through lockers. Frank and Gareth kind of fluctuated between meeting people at shows and trying whatever fad dating site existed for celebrities at the time but hadn't had serious partners in several years.

All that to say, Eddie was fucking banging his head against the wall for the fifth time in so many hours trying to find another rhyme for love that wasn't glove or shove and his bandmates had taken to throwing little pieces of things into his rapidly frizzing messy bun. They needed reinforcements.

By the time pizza and the girls arrived Eddie was laying upside down with his head dangling off the couch singing an over the top version of I Miss You and hoping none of his friends ever told Tom Delonge. Robin and Ronnie promptly cut him off so his hair didn’t land square in the pepperoni.

"Alright let's get the show on the road," Nancy stated after she had ushered the group together onto couches in some semblance of order after the empty pizza boxes had been bussed.

"You can't rush art, Nancy," Eddie snarked which was probably overall a little too daring based on the look Robin sent him.

"But you can actually write something down instead of flipping through Steve's instagram and sigh over his hair," Ronnie responded earning her a high five from Robin.

Nancy had brought over a big flipchart and colored pens and was starting to jot down ideas that were being thrown around the room. So far Eddie had added a doodle of himself looking up at Steve but hadn't really contributed anything else to the board.

"What are you guys known for?" Robin asked.

"Uhm mostly spooky shit and more recently a break up song that low key ruined my life?" Eddie answered.

"What Eddie means to say is that we generally write fantasy based albums that have some sort of an overall theme or story and tend to be a heavily metaphored summation of something one of us was dealing with," Ronnie clarified after thumping Eddie on the back of his head.

"Examples?" Nancy asked.

"So our debut album was basically growing up in our small town and not fitting in but told through the metaphor of the nine circles of hell," Jeff piped in.

"Definitely aren't beating the satanist allegations back home, fam," Gareth chimed in from the kitchen.

"Okay so why don't we do Steve and Eddie's story through a metaphor y'all haven't done yet. Greek myth?" Robin suggested.

"Already done that," Ronnie answered.

"Lord of the Rings vibes?" Nancy threw out.

"Second album," Frank answered.

"Constellations?" Robin asked.

"Fourth album," Jeff said.

"Okay well what haven't you done?" Nancy was growing impatient with twenty questions.

"Eddie, I think it might be time to pull out the original Munson Mythology," Gareth said through a mouthful of cold pizza.

"I feel like there's a story there," Robin prodded.

"I mean, kind of. So I think y'all might know some of this but my family is mostly from Appalachia and I moved with my uncle to a bigger city where I met the rest of these guys so he could get a job at the plant instead of in the coal mines. We all became friends because we were part of a ttrpg group in school and I ran a campaign based a lot on the old stories Uncle Wayne used to tell me about the mountains. It became nicknamed the Munson Mythology and we've been thinking about putting it into an album basically since we started but I could never get it to sit right and our label wasn't the most excited about americana and metal," Eddie summarized as succinctly as he could.

"I think we could get them around to it now. Especially with how popular the single got. We could do a whole like americana cryptid vibe and keep it kind of spooky but ultimately romantic," Ronnie added.

"No pressure though, Eddie. I know Steve is already a personal subject matter but talking about your family lore adds a whole 'nother layer. We'd understand if you wanted to go another direction," Jeff said.

"I think I might be ready for it, guys. I mean Steve's the closest I've come to finding home outside of the mountains and it's something different than we've done before. I think Gare might be right. It's probably time," Eddie said.

"Then I guess we are writing a metal appalachian love story, friends," Robin clapped her hands as if to indicate it was time to get to work.

"Alright, Eddie. Time to tell us some stories," Nancy said.

"What do y'all know about skinwalkers?" Eddie asked as he settled in to tell some folktales.

***

through a random twist of events (aka someone actually wanting to find my fic which holy crap is so flattering omg) i've come back to this work. thanks anon for kicking me back into this au which is so fun to write. the boys will be back together soon just wanted to add some buddy hijinks as i think Ronnie and Robin would be cautious besties and i wanted to see that happen.

also it's been over two months since i worked on this so if you see plot holes no you didn't. one of these days i will put this up on ao3 and go through and make sure i'm consistent with everyone's backstory but for now just go with it. :p

it is a truth universally acknowledged for some reason i absolutely suck at tagging. i think i have been consistent but all these parts should be tagged "was it over then ficlet" if you have trouble finding them. i also might have to work on a master list situation as i will probably not get better at tagging anytime soon. but here we go:

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast

@mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging

@lunaraquaenby @stripey82 @lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly @sherrylyn0628 @steddieinthesun @wonderland-girl143-blog @counting-dollars-counting-stars @bookworm0690

@knightly-reblogs @rjwinterfell @kcsplace @y4r3luv @thedragonsaunt

[bizlybebo]

thinking about ollie now btw.

thinking about him and chip, first of all. thinking about how chip saw this little kid and he saw himself, and so he desperately began to scramble to be everything he needed as a kid that he never got. chip ended up getting caught between 'do cool shit to impress him' and 'keep him safe'. and you can practically see and mark the exact moment where it teetered over into 'keep him safe'. chip's found people that make him want to be a better person and it's so gahgdjhkjwehtjk to think about.

thinking about chip chastising ollie for cursing despite ollie picking up every bit of it from chip.

thinking about ollie calling for chip when things go awry.

thinking about chip just taking the time to check on ollie every time he gets the opportunity.

thinking about ollie clinging onto him and begging not to go home just yet because of the adventures chip's brought him on.

and thinking about the way it haunts chip to hear it because he so desperately wants ollie safe and the albatross isn't always safe. ollie shouldn't be as violent and rowdy as he is at 12 or 10 or 9 or whatever his canon age is.

thinking about ollie and gillion. thinking about gillion being this massive immovable force, this strong warrior in the eyes of a child. thinking about how gillion likely doesn't know how to act around ollie at first because he was never socialized around other kids growing up. but he and ollie actually have so much in common and their friendship is so fucking precious too.

thinking about ollie telling gillion about his journal before he tells chpi and jay.

THINKING ABOUT THE BATTLE THE 2ND TIME THEY WERE IN ALLPORT. thinking about gillion very clearly prioritizing ollie's safety; telling kuba kenta (paraphrased) 'youre going to let him run back to the ship and youre not gonna fucking hurt him' and preparing to use magic or some other spell to protect ollie.

thinking about ollie probably asking to hold gillion's sword. gill's probably like 'hell yeah, but only the worthy can support its weight!' and he lets ollie hold it but magically or however tf holds some of the weight himself so that ollie can actually keep it upright.

THINKING ABOUT OLLIE AND JAY OH MY GOD. thinking about how ollie calls her 'miss jay' which is just fucking adorable. thinking about how he seems to think she's the coolest one on the albatross,, thinking about how he's probably enthralled by jay's inventions and the things she tinkers together.

thinking about how, after jay got her 'wings' (the magical tattoo that allowed her to cast flight), the first thing she did was fly ollie around.

thinking about her trying to be a good role model for ollie because she's like 'well the other two are kind of idiots but i think i can do this right at least'.

thinking about her watching ollie talk about his mother and thinking about her own mother, her own family, and just silently whispering a prayer to the stars, please let this boy's family be good (and as far as i know, his family is good).

[hqbaby]

twenty-three — real talk

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.6k content. swearing, mentions of hazing, mentions of sex

Suna barely remembers most of what happened at the party. It’s a real shame that what he does remember doesn’t look so good—and he definitely remembers what happened with Atsumu.

He avoided his friends all weekend in hopes of: a.) Atsumu forgetting everything he said, b.) possibly getting in a major car accident that renders him completely useless, or c.) postponing the aftermath until training on Tuesday. Try as he might, it seems like the third option is all he’s left with.

For the whole afternoon, Atsumu ignores the whole thing. He sets to Suna, hands him a water bottle, even tells him he played well. It’s like they’re nothing more than best buds, like everything is fine, good even.

“We need to talk.”

Of course all good things have to come to an end.

“Yeah, sure,” Suna says, trying to keep his cool as he follows Atsumu outside of the gym. They stop near the football field, empty save for a couple talking in the stands. “What’s up?”

Atsumu sits down on a bench and sighs. “I know.”

Suna takes the seat beside him and looks away, looks at the sky, the birds, the trees. Everything but Atsumu. “Know what?”

“About what happened between ya and Y/N.”

“Right,” Suna murmurs. “That.”

He feels like bolting. He’s never been one to stick around difficult situations. They just aren’t his thing. He’s pretty sure that’s why things ended up the way they did between the two of you.

“Did she tell you?”

His friend places his hands on the space behind him and leans back, staring straight up. “Yeah,” he says. “She told me that ya slept together. That it started before I even met her.”

Suna swallows thickly. “We stopped before you got together officially.”

“I know, she told me that too.” Atsumu looks at him. “Why’d ya do it?”

“Do what? Sleep with her?”

“No. Why’d you hide her like that? Make her feel like shit?”

The brunette shakes his head, turning to face Atsumu. “I didn’t mean to do—”

“But ya did,” he says firmly. “Everyone knows ya sleep around. For fuck’s sake, everyone sleeps around. What did it matter to ya if people knew about Y/N?”

Suna gapes, searching for the words. He slumps his shoulders and stares at his feet. “I don’t know.”

The twin gives him a knowing look. “But ya do know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ya really love her, don’t ya? Ya just got scared of yer feelings so ya kept her at arm’s length.”

He shakes his head furiously because no, that can’t be it. He’s just an asshole. An asshole who made you feel like you weren’t worthy of care or kindness or love. He’s just a selfish asshole. He never deserved you.

“Come on, Atsumu,” he says. “I don’t love her. You know that.”

Atsumu frowns at him. “Ya don’t need to lie, I already know.”

Suna doesn’t know if he wants to punch Atsumu, hug him, or cry into his shoulder. This is the guy you deserve. This is the guy you should be with. He can see that, everyone can see that. So why can’t he just accept it? Why can’t he just let you be happy?

“Ya need to leave her alone.”

What?

“What?”

“If ya really love her, ya need to leave her alone,” Atsumu says. His face is hard and serious. “Ya gotta let her be happy, Suna. She was never gonna be happy with ya.”

“You can’t just tell me to—”

“She loves me.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. A knife to the chest. A kick to the groin. It makes him ache all over. Atsumu would never lie, Suna knows this, it’s honestly one of the most annoying things about him. If he says you love him, you love him. He wouldn’t make that shit up.

“If ya really love her, leave her be,” Atsumu says. “Ya had yer chance, man.”

Suna clenches his fists. “Did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That I love her?”

He looks up to find the blond pursing his lips.

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because ya already hurt her enough, Suna! Can’t ya see that?” The boy gets up and looks at him dead in the eye. “Don’t ever tell her ya love her. Don’t make her suffer more than she already has.”

Suna glares at him defiantly. He would stand too, but something in him says he shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve to. “And what if I do?”

A strangled silence passes over the two of them. They’ve gotten in fights before, of course they have. They’ve known each other since highschool, there was bound to be tension eventually. But not like this. Never like this.

Atsumu’s cold eyes reach Suna’s. And he smiles.

“If ya ever hurt her again,” he says slowly, smile morphing into a snarl, “I’ll fuck ya up.”

You try to ignore it, the burning question in the back of your mind. It doesn’t matter, really. It shouldn’t bother you so much.

But it does.

“Fuck,” Yukie says, taking another slice of pizza and nudging the box towards you. “You should eat. Stress isn’t good for your stomach.”

You’re sitting on the hood of Kaori’s car, waiting outside the forest for the new recruits to finish their initiation. You always hated the whole hazing process, but what can you do? It’s tradition.

Kaori chews loudly. “What did Suna tell him exactly?”

“I don’t know!” You groan. “That’s the problem! I just know that he found out and Tooru said he didn’t tell him, so it must’ve been Rin, right?”

Your friends share a look.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Yukie says.

“Yeah, nothing,” Kaori says.

You roll your eyes, nudging Yukie with your shoe. “What?”

She glances over at Kaori who gives her an unconvinced nod. “It’s just.. you still call him Rin.”

“I what?”

“You call him Rin,” she repeats. “You know. Suna. You still call him by his first name.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t realized. “What’s the big deal though? So I call him Rin. It’s still his name.”

“The name you called him when he was fucking you,” Kaori reminds you. “I’m just saying, for someone who’s been in a committed relationship for a few months, you still seem pretty attached to your old fuckbuddy.”

You pull a face. “Don’t call him that.”

“See, that—that right there is problematic,” she says, pointing at you. “I thought you just said you love Atsumu.”

“I do love him,” you say stubbornly. “We’re good for each other.”

“And what about Suna?” Yukie chimes in. “Do you love him?”

You grab a slice of pizza and take a big bite. Your friends look at you like “seriously, dude?” as you hold a finger up, chewing the pizza and washing it down with soda.

“I love Atsumu.”

“Real convincing.”

“I do!”

“But. What. About. Suna?”

“Ri—Suna is irrelevant,” you say. “Not part of the conversation at all.”

“Well, he did tell your boyfriend something about the two of you,” Yukie points out. “I wouldn’t say he’s that irrelevant.”

You finish off your pizza, grimacing as you chew. What did he say? “Yeah. That’s really gonna bug me.”

If she’s being honest, Ayame started this whole thing with Suna because she was bored. Just like every other girl on campus, she thought he was hot and cool and absolutely perfect in the most terrible ways. She wanted something fun and exciting, so when he texted her the first time, she was ready to embark on the most loveless affair of her life.

She wanted to get railed. Plain and simple.

She absolutely did not expect to be involved in his whole lovelorn journey chasing after you, the impossible standard. Unlike most girls, Ayame doesn’t envy you. She doesn’t hate you either. She sees how boys chase after you, how they treat you like some object, how they turn you into a game for their own selfish desires.

She mostly feels bad for you, but she also admires the way you manage to get through it all. Most girls would fold under the pressure, but you don’t.

No wonder Suna—heartbreaker and universal one-night stand—is in love with you. Who wouldn’t be?

She stuck around because she felt sorry for him. She highly doubted that he’d ever get you and she was worried he’d crumble if she left him entirely alone. In highsight, she knows this was probably shitty reasoning. 

Shitty enough to lead her to this messed up conversation she’s having.

“You want to date me?” Ayame asks, raising a brow. “Like be my… boyfriend?”

Suna nods, staring at her blankly from the other side of the table. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ve been hanging out for a while. It seems like a good idea.”

She wants to laugh. She really does. “By ‘hanging out,’ do you mean we fuck and you imagine I’m your crush?”

He glares. “I need to let her go,” he tries to reason. “She’s happy. She’s in love. I don’t—I’ll just fuck things up for her.”

“So you’re using me as a stand-in? Is that it?”

“Don’t be mad, I—”

“I’m not mad,” Ayame tells him. She really isn’t. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

He furrows his brows. “Why not?”

“Because!” She lets out an exasperated sigh. Boys are so dumb. “Your solution to letting Y/N go is getting in a relationship with someone you barely know—a relationship that you weren’t even ready for with the girl you literally love.”

“I know you,” Suna insists. He knows how silly he sounds. “Fuck. Do you wanna be my girlfriend or not? It’s a simple yes or no.”

Ayame groans. She really doesn’t have much of a choice now, does she? “Fine,” she says. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He smiles at her. “Good,” he says. “Great.”

As he starts eating his dinner, looking a little better than he usually does, Ayame wonders how long it will take for his brilliant plan to backfire. She hopes she gets a few weeks at least.

What can she say? He’s a good fuck.

notes. hi. bye. lol.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Idea I've had for highschool sweetheart to make könih further rot in guilt because it's silly and amusing that I simply had to share <3

In cliques of the nature of his bullies there are always the internal dynamics people outside don't see. Like how one person is never felt true compliments, only back handed ones if not just straight up insults. Fed lies about how no one else would ever be friends with them, the punching bag of within the clique to keep the glue of the group strong and firm. Naturally it would have been the shyest and most bookish person within the group. But you've known these people your entire life they didn't always act like this they used to be kind and good. (right? they, they were kind once right?) so day dreams become an escape because how could anyone be friends with you? How could anyone tolerate you? Especially after you were around the clique, how could you ever approach the quiet boy who you knew they picked on. He must hate you. You longed to be friends (don't delude yourself you didn't wish to be friends you wished to be lovers but start small right). How could you ever approach him. And then graduation comes and you're abandoned. You can heal and begin to find your personhood. You can pick the shattered pieces of your confidence up off the floor and glue your life back together. It takes years but eventually you gather up the courage to reach out to the boy after he misses the reunion. You want to apologize for your passivity at least. You must after all. (You were children and both victims in your own right but how could this ever be spoken of? You must play the role of the bystander because who would ever believe otherwise? You may have healed but there are still cracks of course.) and much later maybe he learns all this, maybe he reads it in a journal or a letter addressed to him, maybe you finally get the courage to tell him. And the guilt and rot grows like fungus over his heart, eating his anger alive and churning out something like grief in return. Not that you'd noticed the anger, you just saw the second chance, of course he would be wary of you, of course he would have changed over the decade, but a decade of growth was only done on the foundation of the boy you loved before. How could you not love the man he's become now?

tee hee I'm going insane I hope you enjoy my little ramble

Yes yes yes the delicious reveal of how it was for her, that she wasn’t having a happy time in the clique, that she, too, was suffering! ❤️‍🩹

In my opinion König would eventually come to his senses. If we’re treating this scenario with actual seriousness, he would eventually see that what he’s doing is useless and stupid and hurtful and unjust to both of them. I mean he’s clinically insane, he’s nasty and troubled and traumatized and works for a fucking PMC and tortures people but... he’s not rotten to the core. König is like a stray dog that bites if it feels like it’s about to get cornered and beaten again, and that’s his viewpoint with high school sweetheart actually. It may sound silly and misplaced but he’s just too triggered to see that he’s about to do a royal fuck-up with her.

And the unbearable shame when he realizes? When he faces the thing he has become? It’s simply too much to bear, he has worked so hard on himself & to put that shit behind him, he’s built confidence from scratch, he’s built actual, physical muscle just to feel better about himself, he probably joined the military because it was his middle finger to the world. Yes, he had aspirations and actual passions concerning the sniper dream but he’s also driven by this need to prove a shitload of people wrong.

And in walks this babe who reminds him of a time when he was nothing. Absolutely nothing. How do you love that? Because ultimately, it means you have to love yourself and who you were before you became the incredible Austrian Hulk. At the core of it is a 6 feet deep insecurity because König doesn’t feel he’s worthy of her at all.

I think the only thing that would cleanse his heart from pain is the revelation that she suffered too. As sad as it is, that’s what makes his heart crack open because then he gets to play the savior. But then comes the “Do you still love me even if I almost turned into the monster I always battled against” part… Because König would pay her authenticity "generously" by revealing the bully he almost became. And I think that’s when high school sweetheart really needs to ask herself if she’s up for this kind of shit, if she’s actually ready to love this man who isn’t as cool and tough as she thought he was, who is deeply flawed and resentful and childish and cruel.

Part of her probably knows that already and even loves his flaws, but loving König is like loving that stray dog. He’s gonna bring fleas and dried-up mud into your house eventually. Especially if you feed him and give him a scratch… Put a nice, cosy bed for him by the fire... Tell him he's cute when he whines next to your bed... Teach him it’s ok to prefer to sleep with you instead :/

[threepandas]

Since you don't mind, I'll explain the idea, isekai guy! the reader in one of the goals (hits from the moment of birth), a hothouse guy - a knight from a not very noble family, perhaps in one of the bad endings he dies, protecting the main character with his body ... romantic, right? but the MC does not think so, he is the only heir of the family, he needs to think about himself, and about his mother, and about his sisters (of which there are many, because his father had many concubines). If he dies, then they will all be in danger, because of this the MC decided not to pay attention to the saint - a commoner (MC of the game), and in order to look at girls at all, first you need to successfully marry off your beloved sisters, preferably to worthy men, and for this you need money. He loves all his sisters, his mother is the temporary head of the family (until the end of his studies) with the help of her son accepted the illegitimate children of her husband and is calmly waiting for the time when she can give control to her son (she is confident in him). Platonic! Yandere - this story is his mother, his sisters and his older sisters' husbands (his close friends), some of his sisters he bought out of brothels (it's clear where his father went) and helped them enter society, others he simply supported (girls in the Middle Ages, and they already have life and sugar, and they are also illegitimate children), and was the light. His brothers-in-law (his sisters' husbands) also care about him, since he helped many of them in difficult times in life and brought them together with their beloved spouses, but they are more in the background somewhere. And then the sisters find out about a coquette who seduced a prince, a duke and a magician (or rather, just started doing it), and suddenly began making eyes at their brother. They will not tolerate such a girl near their brother. How they will get rid of her, I will leave to your choice ...

Thank you for your attention. Have a nice day / night / evening

Ooooh this is a VERY good idea! Not sure I could do it justice with my lvl of skill to be honest? Cause it would take at least a few chapters to unfold.

Reader is def a Pillar of Strength. The "I'm going to try and do the right thing, because no one ELSE fucking will" sort? Who is pissed and heart sick at the treatment of his half sisters? Probably wants to bring his father back to life just to murder him himself.

Heck, he even has the concubines to worry about, assuming they were decent ladies. Those are his sister's MOMS. This is less a family and more a small LEGION. Noble blood or not, the house can only afford so much. ESPECIALLY after his father's fucking spending spree!

All HE really has is his body. His strength.

He can be a KNIGHT.

Try desperately to navigate the politics of having so many sister to marry off. Because? It's DEFINITELY making certain factions nervous? Marriages are ALLIANCES. They bind houses together!

Why are you trying to unit so many houses under your command, huh, boy? Up to something? Getting IDEAS???

No! No he is NOT! That and the constant background checks on the suitors. Education for the youngest. Education for HIMSELF. Because maybe if he marries some of his sister's abroad? There was a nice lord several nations over! But, shit, I don't speak that language! Guess I have to learn! Teach HER that language and the culture! Aaaaaaaah!

He?? Doesn't have TIME for romance! Are you KIDDING him?!

This is all ON TOP of managing the MESS of neglect his Family's lands have become! There are land disputes and bandits! Bridge inspections! Tax audits! YOU guys may be able to frolic around with the saintess, but HE is a Border Lord! His lands are both vital to the security of the county AND under his IMMEDIATE command!

Cannon Him was a negligent DUMBASS!

And? Obviously, he wouldn't be impressed by bloodline or wealth. Not for marriage prospects. He's not gonna SELL a family member just to make HIS life easier! Fuck that! We tighten the belt, sell a few ugly paintings, and ignore the sneers. We'll get through this. NO ONE is getting married to an abusive peice of shit on his watch.

So?

Second sons. Bastards. Those of poor birth but Great Ambition. Men who are BRILLIANT and SKILLED and ADORE their beautiful, magnificent, "how the FUCK did I get this lucky, every day is a dream" wives. Who turn around, WITH their beloved wife, and...

Want to Take Care of their poor, poor beleaguered Brother~♡.

The man who gave them THE WORLD. Who SUFFERS under the weight of it. Struggles and fights, exhausted, against an endless sea of FILTH trying to tear his family apart. Destroy him. When was the last time HE rested? Was taken care off? Relaxed? He tries so, so hard to protect THEM. They just... just want to be there for HIM, you know?

Be HIS support.

Have him turn around, relieved, smiling and say "oh thank goodness it's YOU! I can rest easy now, knowing YOU are here. I Needed You Here, You've Got This, I Trust You."

But then? THEN??? As his BELOVED family is gathering around? Preparing to... subtly... GENTLY, mind you! Maneuver him back towards home and out of all this STRESSFUL politics and gold gathering and general drudgery? That frilly little "Saintess", who does NOT seem terribly Holy if you ask them, sets her covetous eyes on THEIR dearest Brother/Brother-in-law/Son!

Don't Saints have TEMPLE Duties? Hmmmm? Unlike THEIR Brother, seems SOMEONE here has NEGLECTED their Duty! Holy my ASS. Have you even stepped FOOT in the Temple in the last DECADE? When did you last PRAY? Perform sacred rights? Cleansing rituals?

Besides! WE don't even FOLLOW those Gods! Yeah, didn't stop to ASK about that, DID YA?! No, you presumptuous *Censored!*! This country may have a STATE religion, but it doesn't enforce it upon others! Because it goes AGAINST said religion! We follow a local God from a different pantheon! *shouted theological rant by Sister number 6, the religious scholarly one.*

It'd be hilarious. One man's journey to take care of his family. That spirals WILDLY out of control with an endless serious of "oh... just one more thing..." and trying to find a SINGLE FUCKING DECENT MAN in the whole shit show of a country for his sister's to marry?

Only to accidentally?

Stumble upon "yandere" as the winning formula, not knowing it. They don't drink. Don't gamble. Would NEVER lay a hand on their beloved spouse. Are romantics and respectful, ambitious and want to make a good life for their family's. Extremely Loyal. Did he mention ADORE their spouses? Not JUST for their youthful beauty? No, no, for THEM. These guys will love them FOREVER.

It's perfect! *each red flag makes a whooshing noise as it sails merrily riiiight over his head* hmm? You hear something?

Unfortunately? Or fortunately, depending on the angle? They are IN to that! Freak to freak behavior! Yandere on Yandere marriages. WHOLE fuckin bloodline is probably cursed now. Rip everyone in THAT region. Cause that's a timebomb waiting to go off horrificly.

But not yet!

Right now? It's just interesting~☆

[newtonsheffield]

Kate, honey, winning a match doesn't mean you can't be sad and insecure. You can. And you can talk about this with Anthony. He is there for you, ready to support you, no judgement. And wouldn't you do the same for him? You absolutely would. So do yourself a favour and talk to him. Let him take care of you. 🙏🏽

They are both so used to dealing with everything on their own (despite the fact that they do feel the support of their respective families) that they keep harbouring their true feelings. It is so easy for them to show love and trust and support towards other people. But it's like they don't believe they are worthy of being on the receiving end of such affections.

I think this is the nicest thing about where their relationship grows to. The fact that Kate can be in another country to Anthony and she has a day where she feels overwhelmed, or insecure, or stressed and the first person she calls is Anthony.

Some days she’s already got him on the phone when she leaves practice.

“Hey what’s up, Babe?”

Hearing his voice makes her want to cry sometimes. “I just um… sorry, you’re probably busy.”

“I’m not busy.” Anthony said firmly, “I’m never busy if you need me.”

Kate let out a shuddering breath, relaxing against the cushions of the sofa in her hotel room. “I just really needed to hear your voice today.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Anthony was silent for a moment before he clicked his tongue, “Well, do you want to hear about how I’m now friends with the voice that lives in your fridge?”

Kate let out a watery chuckle, swiping at her tears. “I didn’t know my fridge had a voice.”

“It does! I’ve named her Pam. She’s ordered me a steak from M&S for tonight. Very excited about it.”

Kate took another deep breath, “I love you. I miss you. I fucking hate clay courts and my ankle still feels weird and I hate being photographed with Tom because they always try to start shit.”

She could hear Anthony rustling around before he cleared his throat, “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“You won’t be here for weeks.” It ached in her chest, the distance after being so used to seeing him every day.

“Well I just booked a train because it’s Friday, and I can come and spend the weekend and then come back here.”

Kate’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”

“Babe, France is… so close you can swim there. You want me there so I’m coming. I’ll just have to get Pam to cancel my steak.”

“I’ll buy you one when you get here.” Kate breathed, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Anthony hummed, “Oh! We can go to Disneyland and take cute pictures together!”

Kate but back a smile, “Yeah we can. Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Stay in the phone with me while I pack and we can stay on the phone while we’re on the train. I’ve treated myself to business premiere. Very exciting.”

“Are you sure if it’s alright if I hear the conversation between you and your new girlfriend Pam?”

“Of course just cover your ears.”