#sometimes I prattle on a bit too long

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. setting powder.

about. whilst getting ready to meet your new boyfriend’s extended family — you learn that he knows a thing or two about doing makeup.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up to 20s, enemies to lovers, meeting the family, new relationships, brief mention of injury and hospitals, reader wears makeup and dresses, pro hero!bakugou, nurse/doctor!reader.

“we’re gonna be late, sweetheart.”

leaning against the door frame, bakugou crosses his arms over his chest — his perfect lips pulled into a suave smirk as he watches you finish your makeup for tonight.

“wha…huh? you said i had twenty minutes?” you’re still half dressed, your boyfriend’s baggy hoodie from an old merch collection draped over your sweet little dress to protect it from your foundation, your hair is tied back and away from your face so it doesn’t get in the way and though you’re still trying to blend your cream blush in with one of those sponge things — katsuki thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the entire world.

pushing himself off the door frame, he sits behind you on the bed — still watching you work at the vanity whilst he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt. “that was twenty minutes ago,” the blonde rasps affectionately and grasps your at your jewellery laid out on the bed. the rough pad of his thumb traces over the ‘K’ on the silver heart locket he’d gotten you for your birthday before he undoes the clasp and places the chain around your neck — being mindful of your hair in the process. “y’said you’d be done by then.”

you catch your boyfriend’s vermillion stare in the reflection of your mirror — his subtle smile when he sees his initials dangling from your neck. it feels you with warmth to know that no matter what, katsuki will always find you beautiful and will always love you. even with how chaotic your makeup looks when half done. “i think i spent too long in the shower ‘n underestimated how long this look would take,” you sigh, reaching for your lip gloss next. you’ll have to put it in your purse, do your lips in the car. “do you think they’ll mind if we’re any later than this?”

“my parents won’t. neither will inko. deku — i mean — izuku will, but he’ll pretend he ain’t bothered,” bakugou prattles down the list, making a note of tonight’s attendees. it was tradition that the bakugous and the midoriyas had a monthly dinner together, it had been going on since the two pro heroes were children. only now, their partners were invited since they were family too. family included you.

you hadn’t gone to U.A and you certainly didn’t know katsuki until he became an up and coming pro hero. the first time he’d saved you, by the sidewalk of the hospital you worked at, you thought he was brutish and stuck up. you’d hated him and he’d hated you. but over time, and more frequent trips to A&E after saving civilians or sometimes after being wounded in villain attacks — you’d come to appreciate bakugou’s brooding personality and observant nature.

he’d come to like you too. how much you cared for others and wanted to make the world a better place. you reminded him a little bit of izuku, in a strange way.

so one night when you were on call, katsuki brought you flowers instead of a stomach wound that needed stitches and you’d given him a kiss instead of berating him about being careful, over vanilla and chocolate pudding cups from the hospital cafeteria.

signing impatiently, you bring katsuki back to present day. “i wanted to make a good impression on your aunty and on your best friend,” rubbing your arm nervously, you cast your gaze over the mess on your vanity — expensive products splayed across them in organised chaos.

“you will. they’re gonna love you. they already do,” bakugou stands behind you now, rough palms smoothing over your shoulders. “izuku says you’ve made me less bitchy at work. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle, eyes sparkling in delight as you look at the blonde in the mirror. “really?”

“really,” he nods sheepishly. the way you look at him makes him feel so loved. it’s new to him. nice to him. “now, whaddya need help with s’we can hurry up ‘n hit the road.”

you begin to ramble on, perking up at the idea of katsuki helping with the rest of your routine.“well… i’ve done my lashes, my eyes, my base and blush… i can do lips in the car. aside from putting on earrings and fixing my hair all i need is to set my face with—“

“settin’ powder,” bakugou grabs the little pot from your vanity as if he knew where it was all along, picking up a little face cushion as well as he prepares to get to work. “got it.” he dips the cushion into the translucent powder, rubbing the excess off on the back of his hand before leaning in real close to dab at the areas he thinks you need it. like your t-zone.

your boyfriend’s touch is like magic on your face, perfectly setting your makeup while making you feel like a pampered princess. “who taught you how to do this?” comes your shy mumble, his proximity to your face causing you to grow flustered and squirm in your seat. “h-how are you so good at it?”

“keep still, i’ll be finished faster if y’stop squirmin’ sweetheart. don’t wanna mess up what you’ve done already,” pausing his actions, katsuki gives you a toothy smirk — revelling in how bashful you’ve become under his touch while he helps you with your makeup. “…grew up behind the scenes of fashion shows ‘n shoots. so i picked up a thing or two i wanted to make sure i could still do it so i watched a couple of videos on it too. ‘n i noticed…you always put so much time ‘n effort into your makeup. wanted to help make the process easier for you.”

you feel as though you could melt at katsuki’s kind words and gesture as he dabs at your face a little more — tongue caught between the toes of his pew rlly white teeth as he sticks it out in concentration. he’s so cute it makes you want to scream. “you’re sweet,” you coo appreciatively, stilling yourself to let him finish before he pulls back — satisfied with his work. “i love you.”

it’s not the first time you’ve said it to one another, but the three words are still new to the both of you. “i uh…i love you more,” a pink, rosey hue rises on the surface of bakugou’s tanned skin and his red, loving eyes dart away from your face bashfully. “‘m gonna get your shoes ‘n jacket ready by the door while that sits. don’t forget your settin’ spray after you brush that shit off — oh ‘n don’t take my hoodie off until you’ve done that. don’t wanna ruin your dress, kay?”

“okay,” you respond fondly, hiding your smile at his very specific instructions. “i’ll be down in a minute.”

katsuki nods hesitantly, standing up as he gathers your belongings and outerwear — ready to load them up in the car, when he suddenly pauses in place. “you look beautiful tonight, sweetness. you always do.” he adds as one last parting message, before disappearing down the hall.

leaving you wondering how you ever lucked out with such a man. one who’s not only kind and gentle and loving, but a pro hero and a makeup artist at that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[nvuy]

Boothill is a “your pleasure is my pleasure” kind of guy do u agree 🎤

mdni. im snatching the mic. i got carried away ty anon for giving me an excuse to ramble about this loser.

he takes pleasing you very seriously. this is serious business. it’s like his day job.

he’s half-convinced he was given a second life just to cross paths with you, so once he’s got you, he’s not letting you go. not for a while, at least. he’s stuck to your hip like glue. wherever you go, he’s most likely right next to you.

he’s always making sure you’re catered to first.

it’s the same in bed.

he’s extremely touch starved, so while he’s got his hand between your legs, he’s also busied himself nuzzling his cheek to yours to feel you helplessly panting against his skin. or, his ear is resting against your heart. whatever works for him in the moment.

he’s absolutely smitten with how warm you get. he’s always, always, pressing himself against you one way or another. just touch all over his face, please and thank you.

he’s all for kisses too. sometimes, when he’s having a bit too much fun, he’ll get all mushy and gross. not that he already isn’t, but it somehow gets worse.

he’ll bite too. not enough to make you bleed, but enough to leave an angry mark for the next few days.

actually, he just nips you all the time. it’s a weird thing he does. don’t point fingers in his face. he’ll try eating them. he’s very strange in that way. sometimes you can be gesturing at nothing while you talk, and if your fingers get too close to his face, he’s trying to nip at them like a teething puppy. you got used to it.

great tongue too. bonus points because it’s actually real. he works his magic with it, but only after you beg enough. you gotta work to get your hands on the merchandise. his mechanics are expensive, so play nice.

if we’re getting into unserious business, the robocock is great fun. it’s got smooth ridges and it’s cold. probably customisable, too. it’s definitely possible, but whether he’s gonna wander up to some poor mechanic and ask them to add some special features… well.

either way, your pleasure is always his priority. his hobbies consist of biting every single exposed expanse of your skin and exploring new ways to make you squirm.

it’s bad enough you having to deal with this lump of steel and scrap—frankly, he doesn’t even understand what’s so appealing about it—but if you enjoy bouncing on his lap, go ahead. do it all night for all he cares. as long as you have that pretty dizzy smile on your face by the end of it all. it makes him melt into a puddle of liquid metal knowing how good he makes you feel.

he’s also VERY susceptible to puppy eyes. they’re your greatest asset, and his biggest weakness.

you figured that out after you pleaded with him to put on these clothes you bought him (and, yep. these clothes have just as many cut outs as his usual attire). you can also use them if you want to do his hair. please convince him to wear it in a high ponytail more. he has such a nice face, and it also stops his neck from overheating. those poor fans need a vacation.

it takes some convincing, especially when you show him the hair tie is actually a red sparkly ribbon. you’re going to ruin his tough guy persona. but he’ll drop anything for you, so he’ll comply. on the condition that you give him smooches afterwards. it’s also an excuse for him to indulge in how your fingers feel against his scalp.

puppy eyes, crying, begging, whatever, usually get people he’s apprehended nowhere. he doesn’t care for theatrics. not at all. a criminal is a criminal at the end of the day.

but you? aww, how can he say no to your angel eyes? wanna fuck his face? you didn’t even have to ask! just watch the teeth. and feel free to pull his hair. wanna ride him until he short circuits? sure! if you can keep up. he’s all yours.

and when you’re done, his aftercare consists of coddling and pinching your cheeks. he’ll prattle on about nothing. the subject will change to gushing over how pretty you look in his bed, to the weather tomorrow, to how he misses the taste of spaghetti. he’ll even kiss all over the marks he’s left on you. probably kicks his feet too.

he’s still so energetic it’s mind-baffling. he’s so casual about it too, acting as if he didn’t beg for you to cum on his face just ten minutes ago.

but that’s robot stamina for you. or maybe it’s just a boothill thing. who knows?

after a while he’ll calm down. i still haven't decided if he can sleep, but once you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll lay next to you and draw patterns on the nape of your neck with his fingers.

[mimiriko]

You are increasingly becoming aware that bringing the exact amount of change to the vending machine was a risk. A risk you never make because this particular machine is notorious for malfunctioning and dropping snacks.

It’s near midnight. A lone breeze brushes past and ruffles your nightwear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You could go back to your room, but there’s a tender soreness in your legs from the days work. It’s too troublesome for the mere purpose of sweetening your mouth.

But your chocolate…

“You’re still up?”

A figure shadows you. You look up to your right, and see the moon in the form of bedhair. Sometimes, he forgoes his glasses when everything is casted in black and slightly easy on his eyes, so you’re met with blue rimmed with snow peering down at you.

“Hungry,” you respond, focusing back on the task at hand. Cautiously, experimentally, you tip the machine further right, small uniform shakes to loosen the kitkat stuck on the edge, an arrow away from a bullseye. Satoru stretches next to you, idly releasing the kinks in his neck. “I wanted to sleep early today,” he bemoans, slumping to your side and stays put, even with you floundering with his weight.

“Quit it!” you yelp, tightening your grip on the machine. You’re finally making progress and he decides to set you back three steps.

“Suguru told me i’m getting eye bags,” he prattles, rubbing at the aforementioned place, “I cannot have eye bags. Imagine that! My perfect sky blue eyes and dull skin underneath. It will ruin my whole look.”

Almost there…you feel yourself going cross eyed from staring at the kitkat for so long. The hook of metal around the corner of the package is slipping, just a little jostle away from setting your chocolate free.

But you stop.

You notice it’s suddenly quiet.

The reflection of the display glass allows you to see him staring just as you are, attentively watching if you make it out of here happily or suicidal. You straighten a bit, weirdly put on the spot.

“Hey…why don’t you just—“ his hands shoot out, shaking it ten times rougher than you.

Your alarms blare. “Wait wait wait—”

Your kitkat is set free.

And you watch it drop to the row below it, on top of a juice box.

“Oh.” He says shakily, a nervous giggle following. “Whoops.”

You turn your face to his side profile, and he pointedly looks ahead. His neck is bared to you, unblemished and devoid of accessories. A solid mark left on him would paint a good picture, an outline of your teeth. It might be the first mark he has ever gotten.

You think of Yaga-sensei, and his strict protocol for punishment when a fight breaks out. Especially when it disturbs others, because you’re definitely sure his screams will bleed to the top floors. You’ll make sure it does. Shoko will give you a celebratory hug for finally giving it to him, but will be disappointed that you would have to miss your lunch together. Utahime from all the way in Kyoto will mail you a gift and you’re pretty sure even Mei Mei would send you some cash.

As if sensing your malevolence, he quickly backs away. “H-Hold on! Look—“ he digs in his pocket hastily and pulls out a note. With sweaty hands he inserts it into the machine, and takes your hand palm up and places another kitkat in your hold.

You stare at it, and then at his pockets. “Give me another.”

You end up walking back to your dorm with handfuls of chocolate and a broke Satoru holding more just for you.

[see-arcane]

Lucy and Jonathan

“We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were not already engaged to Jonathan.”

I’ll admit, while it probably wasn’t anything more than an airy throw-in without any real barbs behind it, the inflection on Lucy’s comment followed by the idle advertisement of upcoming character, Dr. John ‘Jack’ Seward, as a higher-up-the-ladder ‘what-if’ prospect, still kind of stung to hear. I know it’ll get sanded back in later chapters because—minor spoilers—context clues will show that Mina, Lucy, and Jonathan have known/been friendly with each other since they were kids, and comments from future letters will show a more mutual regard. So it makes me wonder what the reason for the implied derision was.*

*(Beyond her possibly trying to push Jack in a way that says ‘Nope, No, I Choose Not to See the Crush, No Thank You, Hot Potato.’)

My guess? It’s a bit.

Specifically, a holdover from hers, Mina’s, and Jonathan’s earlier days when all of them had grown into adolescence, social mores started getting hammered in in earnest, and Mina and Jonathan were just starting on their official courtship.

Suddenly, they’re no longer a trio of kids enjoying each other’s company. Now it’s two young ladies—one rich, one poor—and a charming young man—also from a lower class. Considering the period, it would be only too easy for whispers to start flying behind fans and cigars that the young Mr. Harker might consider leveling up his prospects, or that the lovely Miss Westenra, a veritable Victorian Helen of Troy, might idly snatch her low-born friend’s man out from under her nose on a whim. And aren’t they such a pretty picture? Quoting their Shakespeare at each other, so intriguingly close compared to most men and their ladies’ friends…unless there are certain extra friendly circumstances involved, ha ha.

A ribald comment too many from coworkers at Hawkins’ firm and a backhanded compliment or three at the latest spring ball probably shocked Jonathan and Lucy respectively into action. Bonus points if one of the inciting remarks came from some tittering debutante, “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You two are so alike! Such sweet bonny things, parroting the Bard at each other, prattling merrily about the latest little outing without stopping for breath. Really, Lucy, he would just do for you.”**

**(Some have wondered if Lucy was nudging Jack toward Mina due to certain similar traits they shared. Some morose aspects, intensely focused, interests in modern technology. You’ll see when you meet him. Either way, it’s another parallel to ponder here.)

Cue Mina having to endure her loved ones defending her honor from being dubbed a victim of romantic betrayal in the most vaudeville manner possible. Though she should expect no less from Theatre Nerds 1 and 2.

When they go out, Mina is permanently sandwiched between them as if they’re ducking behind a red-faced shield. Lucy brandishes a parasol to ensure they’re at least the shaft’s length apart; sometimes she’ll even open it to make sure they’re not swayed by looking upon each other, may Heaven forbid such scandalous temptation! Jonathan sits on the bench with them with his hat pulled down over his eyes for safety’s sake. At least a quarter of an hour at the start of each outing is dedicated to a back-and-forth of:

Lucy, nose up so high she’s looking more at the ceiling than him: Mr. Harker.

Jonathan, checking his pocket watch to see how long he must endure this most arduous company: Miss Westenra.

Mina, head in her hands: It’s been months.

Lucy, scoffing: Months of torment in his presence.

Jonathan, scoffing harder: Agony in hers.

Lucy, on a fainting couch: However can you stand him, Mina?

Mina, about to pull her hair out of its pins: You helped him pick out the ring, Lucy.

Jonathan, picture of woe: Tormentedly, of course.

Lucy, nodding: Agonizingly.

In short, Jonathan 🤝 Lucy:

[mellowsadistic]

Changing Her Hobbies

Your girlfriend may well have some hobbies and interests that you don't approve of. Perhaps you're worried being into football is making her hang out with the wrong crowd, or maybe you think chess is just too grown-up for a silly little thing like her. Whatever the case, the solution is simple. Just tell her she doesn't like those things anymore, and give her a new list of things she likes to do in their place.

Be firm, as she's likely to get very fussy over this. She might complain that she's the only real authority on herself, or insist that it's impossible for her to start liking something just because you've ordered her to. If that happens, just spank her bare bottom over your knee and remind her that you're her Daddy and you know best. Enforce her new hobbies with a strict discipline program and she'll soon learn to engage in them with a smile.

I promise you the results are worth it. I know a man who used this strategy to radically alter his girlfriend’s personality. He loved her very much, but he was sick and tired of her bad attitude and refusal to accept her place as his inferior. He put it down to the kind of activities she liked to take part in, so with a firm hand and a bit of patience, he changed them to better reflect her immature nature. Here’s a before and after of her hobbies:

Things she used to like:

Playing guitar

Reading classic literature

Trying on stylish clothes

Going clubbing with her friends

Having debates about politics

Playing hockey

Going out for romantic dinners

Things she likes now:

Playing with dolls

Watching Disney channel

Running around naked

Doing the housework

Wetting herself for attention

Practicing ballet

Sucking cock under the table

It was a difficult transition for her. She’d always been a bit of a tomboy, so it wasn’t easy for her to adjust to playing with Barbies and prancing about in a tutu. It wasn’t easy to get used to stripping off all her fashionable clothes and going streaking around the house in the nude periodically either, like a toddler with no concept of modesty. Nor was she keen to spend her time watching TV aimed at tweens when she wasn’t scrubbing the floors, making dinner, or doing the laundry. It was especially hard for her to learn that she liked to give frequent blowjobs (she insisted she hated them for the longest time), and she was in complete denial about her desire to regularly pee her pants for attention. However, with enough corrective punishment, she eventually learned to accept her true self.

These days she pouts at the suggestion of going out partying, but bounces up and down with excitement at the thought of mopping the floor. She has no desire to play guitar, and reading anything more advanced than a picture book would bore her to tears, but she can happily spend the whole afternoon glued to her favourite cartoons or prattling away at her baby doll, rocking it in her arms and changing its nappy (and hoping Daddy doesn’t follow through on his threat to put her in nappies because of all the ‘accidents’ she’s been having). She never talks about politics anymore, partly because she has no idea what’s going on in the world since her Daddy banned her from reading the news, and getting involved in rough and tumble sports like hockey would just be silly for a sweet little pirouetting princess like her. It’s much more fun to put on ballet performances for Daddy and her dollies. Modelling the latest trends is a thing of the past for her too; in fact, it’s a struggle to keep any kind of clothes on her since she’s always wanting to be Daddy’s little nudist - why wear a cute pair of jeans when she could just go bare-bottomed instead? And why would she want to go out to a fancy restaurant for a romantic meal when she could just serve Daddy his dinner herself before crawling under the table to suck his dick while he eats?

Sometimes she slips up. She looks bored while playing with her dolls, or casts a longing look at a guitar in the window display of a music store. She might go too long without wetting herself or forget to smile while she's doing the polishing. When that happens, her boyfriend is always quick to reacquaint her bottom with his hand, or even the paddle. A 'fake it till you make it' policy is important to enforce here. Make your girlfriend pretend to enjoy her new hobbies, and eventually, over time, she'll learn to like them for real. And if not, don't worry, because you won't know the difference!

[tokkias]

never requested before, hope im doing it right, but can i request one where lucy loves hand holding and is a bit shy of it and its basically just random occasions of her trying to hold natsus hand rather it be in the middle of the guild or at home just for a sense of comfort? much love 🫶🏼

thank you for the request! and sorry it took me 8 months. i went in a little bit of a silly direction with this one but i hope you like it nonetheless!

summary: Lucy is no stranger to affection when it comes to Natsu, especially not as they walk into a relationship together. Despite having his hands on her at almost all times, there's still one small affection that she's just a little shy to ask for. ao3

Lucy was no stranger to affection when it came to Natsu. He had always been handsy and affectionate with her long before their relationship stepped out of the bounds of platonic; their newfound romantic relationship was now just an excuse to show even more affection.

Lucy found herself fond of this new type of affection he shared with her. Though he still maintained his casual touches, like the way he slung his arm around her shoulder or the way his hand would rest on her thigh when they sat near each other, now they were interwoven with new touches that held a more romantic intent to them. Their once handsy relationship had grown even handsier, now littered with cuddles and tender kisses.

The way he touched her made her whole body tingle and set her heart alight. It felt like it could have come straight out of a romance novel. Lucy loved each and every one of her newfound affections, though perhaps her favourite was the way his fingers felt intertwined with hers. His hands were always so warm, his grip always so secure around her own. The feeling was synonymous with love, safety, and assurance to her.

Her only problem was that, for some reason, she always got just a little bit nervous when it came to initiating.

It was a silly, stupid problem that she had—it was only Natsu, after all, but she had just become so used to him being the one to instigate that she had all but forgotten how to do it herself. He wasn’t one to instigate handholding often. More often, it was an arm tossed around her shoulder or his hand resting on her waist, and though she certainly wasn’t about to complain about either, sometimes she wished that he would lock their hands together more.

For some reason, the idea of asking or being the one to initiate made her nervous. There was no real reason, no rationale. Before he was her lover, Natsu was her best friend, the one person she could confide in, share anything and everything with. They had faced countless dangers together; she had looked death in the eye and escaped from its clutches, so why was it this that made her hands shake and her heart race faster?

She glanced down at his hand, resting atop her thigh as they sat across from their teammates. She had long tuned out of the conversation, her mind wandering elsewhere. It was comforting, warm, his thumb mindlessly rubbing circles against her skin. The sight of his hand made her own feel… empty. It was right there and yet not in her own. That wasn’t to say she didn’t like the feeling of it resting there, but she just wondered why he would never hold her hand under the table.

She looked up at Natsu, his attention elsewhere, as he and Gray prattled on, then back down at his hand. She couldn’t interrupt their conversation for the sake of holding hands, but she wondered if he would mind if she tried to slip her hand into his own. Surely he wouldn’t. Surely he would let their fingers entangle quietly and without fuss. She considered it for a moment and then another, but it seemed like it was a moment too long.

She moved to let her hand rest on his, but in that same moment, his own was whipped away as he stood up, provoked by something Gray said on the other side of the table. It wasn’t long before he was out of his seat completely, his fist flying towards him, and the moment stolen from her.

Lucy let out a soft, dejected sigh, her upper body dramatically falling against the table, where her forehead landed with a thunk against the wood—not an uncommon reaction to this sort of thing. Mira shot her a sympathetic look, as she did every time this happened.

If only she knew just what Lucy had to lose this time.

.☆.

The ambient sound of the river rushing from besides them and the sweet serenade of birdsong had long since become familiar to Lucy since moving to her apartment on Strawberry Street. It wouldn’t take long for it to also become little more than white noise to Natsu, too.

More and more often, he found himself at her apartment overnight, the duo making their trek to the guild hall together the next morning. It was a routine that Lucy had come to enjoy, even if it meant Natsu smacking her as he sprawled out in bed at night. It had, of course, predated their romantic relationship, but it had grown more common after it, and there were little things that had changed about their routine. The men on the boats now knew to greet the both of them, one coffee order turned into two, and over time they inched closer and closer together, no longer a comfortable and platonic distance away from one another.

With each step they took, the backs of their hands brushed up against one another, his fingers grazing her knuckles. It would be so easy to grab his, to hold it, squeeze it in her own—it was right there, after all. She imagined their arms swinging between them as they walked, him keeping hold of her as she balanced on the edge of the river. The moment was innocuous enough that she could have slipped her hand in his without much question.

Each brush of his skin against hers sent sparks throughout her body and a warmth that went straight to her soul. She had wondered if it would ever fade, but now, even months into their relationship, as she got even the slightest touch of him, she still felt it in the very fibre of her being. Right now, she wanted more of that feeling; she wanted to feel his strong, warm grip around her hand.

She looked over at Natsu, a look of yearning hidden behind her eyes as they trailed down to his hands. Natsu hadn’t noticed her looking, his gaze fixed firmly in front of them on their trek—something Lucy should have followed suit in. Unfortunately, that would be her downfall, quite literally, when her foot caught in a crack on the pavement, causing her ankle to wobble. Had she not been wearing her stupid heeled boots, she may have been able to catch herself, but it seemed as though her choice of footwear was not on her side today as the small wobble turned into a larger one, and in an attempt to catch herself, she instead went plunging into the water beside her.

Her terrified scream alerted Natsu of her situation a moment too late, and even as he reached out to grab her, he was already much too late.

Stupid Natsu and his stupid, pretty hands for distracting her like that.

She coughed and sputtered up water as she broke the surface, treading water in an attempt to stay afloat. Looking up at the sidewalk, Natsu had given up on any attempt to rescue her and was now doubled over in laughter.

“What are you doing, idiot?” Lucy cried out. “Help me!”

Obliging with her request (though not without wiping a stray tear of laughter from his eye), Natsu got to his knees, reached his arm out to her, and helped lift her out of the water, not caring that she was dripping all over his feet. He took her into his arms, and she chose to ignore his cackles in favour of snuggling closer to his body to warm herself up.

Sure, she had wanted affection from Natsu, but this wasn’t exactly the context she had hoped it would be in.

.☆.

The crowded and busy streets of the Sunday Magnolia market were something that Lucy had long gotten used to. Whether she was shopping or not, if Lucy ever found herself leaving her apartment on a Sunday, she would inevitably be caught up in the hubbub of it all, and today was no exception. She wove between foot traffic with an expert step she had developed over time as she and Natsu made their way through the crowd to their favourite stall, lined with fresh bread and pastries.

Though she was used to busy Sundays, today seemed like a bit much. Maybe there was a special event or Magnolia had been featured on some list of desirable holiday destinations, but it felt like there were more tourists in town than usual. It had always been busy, but not this busy. For every agile step she made, she was still met with shoves against her shoulder as she was squished between the bodies of people desperately trying to make it from point a to point b.

Glancing over, she checked that she was still close to Natsu. She feared that if they were trapped in this crowd much longer, they would be separated, and based on the way someone shoved between them, that fear was not unwarranted.

“Natsu!” she called out the moment she saw him slipping from her field of sight.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he affirmed.

Their steps moved in tandem for the time being, a fragile pace so easily prone to rupturing in these conditions. This would be the perfect time to grab hold of his hand—a small romantic gesture under the guise of keeping them from being separated in the busy streets. As if by instinct, she reached out for him, searching for his hand within the sea of people. She wanted to lock their hands together, to hold onto him as they navigated the busy streets, but instead she was met with nothing but strangers passing by.

Looking up, she saw that in the brief moments that had passed since he called out to her, he had been swept away in the ocean of people. Only a flash of pink hair could be seen from her spot in the sea.

Lucy let her shoulders slump and allowed the frustrated groan to slip past her lips. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, she found herself shoved around and stumbling backwards, forced to do nothing but watch as Natsu got further and further away.

.☆.

The soft glow of the television illuminated the dark of Lucy’s apartment long after sundown. She was huddled up into Natsu’s side, bundled under blankets to protect her from the coolness of the night creeping in. Some horror movie was playing on the screen at Natsu’s insistence. It wasn’t something Lucy would have chosen for herself, but it was his turn to pick, so she conceded.

It was strange how they had been through scarier things than even fiction could conceive, and yet these silly films with bad special effects could still frighten and shake them to their core. Even when she knew they were coming, she couldn’t help the way she flinched at every jump scare. Though Natsu would insist it didn’t faze him, she could see the truth in the way he clutched at her arm.

Though she had failed every time before now, this seemed like the perfect time to slip her hand in his, veiled under the guise of much-needed comfort for the both of them. Her hand came to rest on top of his in a gentle attempt to coax his grip off of her, but before she could manage that, they were met with another one of those stupid screamers on the screen.

“Shit!” He cried out in panic.

Lucy could hardly register what was going on before she was practically tackled by Natsu, who was using his entire body to shield her from the threat on the screen. She let out a scream of fright, from either the sudden jump scare or the aggression of Natsu’s protection; she couldn’t quite tell. Both of their bodies were quivering like leaves in an autumnal breeze. Her hands were shaking much too much to even consider holding Natsu’s—after all, right now she thought the both of them needed a little bit more comfort than hand holding alone could provide.

Instead, she made better use of her hands by reaching out for the remote and flicking the TV off for both of their sakes.

.☆.

A gentle spring breeze ruffled Lucy’s hair as it passed them by. She was sitting on a picnic blanket spread out across the green grass, taking advantage of this easy spring day for a cute lunch date in the park, just her and Natsu.

It seemed as though they weren’t the only couple to have taken the nice weather as a chance for an outing. Various couples roamed the park, admiring the scenery and taking in the sun. Many walked together, hand in hand, and the sight of it sent a pang of jealousy straight to Lucy’s chest.

It was like fate didn’t want that for her.

What a stupid thing for fate to get in the way of.

Even though she tried to hide it, the sudden drop in her demeanour did not go unnoticed by Natsu beside her. He paused his indulgence in the lunch that they had packed, his attention shifting to her as he met her eyes.

“Lucy?” He asked, careful voice and concern in his eyes. “Everythin’ okay?”

His hand came to rest on her thigh in a display of comfort, but the feeling of his warm hand against her skin only had her feeling more agitated over the whole thing.

“I just-” The words seemed to catch in her throat as she tried to form some sort of excuse, but before she could stop herself, the word came tumbling out of her lips. “I want us to hold hands!” She squeaked.

“What?”

The concerned expression he had once regarded her with quickly turned into one of confusion, as if he wasn’t certain that he had heard her right. She was certain he had. Nothing could slip past those ears of his.

Her cheeks grew a deep red, her face feeling incredibly warm as what she said just sank in. She hadn’t meant to say that, but it seemed as though all the frustration had simply boiled over until she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"Well, why didn’t you just ask?” Natsu replied, head tilted in confusion.

“Because, I-” She paused, her mouth slack, as she tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. “Because it’s embarrassing.”

Though it was the truth, it wasn’t exactly reasonable. It was only Natsu, and the worst thing he could do was say no. Even still, she couldn’t seem to give herself the push to say it until she had practically snapped. She averted her gaze, fully expecting the inevitable teasing that was to come, but instead she felt Natsu’s hand slip into her own, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

“There, that better?”

He looked down at her with a grin plastered across his face—a smile of true, genuine love. Lucy's expression softened, and all of the worries she might have had melted away in that moment. He squeezed her hand, and her heart practically jumped in time with it.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

She squeezed his hand back, and he met her with a laugh that turned the flush of embarrassment on her face into one of soft love and adoration.

For a moment, the two stayed like that, hand in hand as they sat in adoring gaze, until the light-hearted teasing did ensue. Lucy rolled her eyes as Natsu began to poke fun of her irrational nervousness, though not letting go of her hand the whole time.

Still, it was well worth the price if it meant holding his hand like this.

If she had known it would be this easy, she would have done it ages ago.

[theflashesoflove]

break it to me

Jan Stevens x f!reader (nsfw)

summary: Jan Stevens and one of her female residents kept dancing around each other for too long. At one particular afternoon the resident couldn’t take it anymore and recorded a voice message to put Jan Stevens in her place.

a/n: watching this film was (not) a mistake. i can’t stop thinking about her. so here’s a quick and rather simple (?) one-shot since i’m pretty spent after writing the previous piece and needed to relax my brain (yes i’m weak and fragile like that when it comes to writing even if i enjoy it). but i had to release this off my head, ahhh!!!

warnings/tags: mentions of smoking, sub!jan and dom!reader dynamics, dirty talk, (dicta)phone sex

word count: 2.5k

One of the things that accompanied your residence at the Sonic Catering Institute was interviews with Stones, Jan Stevens’ documenter. It all consisted of rather simple questions about your background, about the relationship within the band and about your stay at the institution. 

You never really felt that someone would want to listen about your life, so usually you kept silent, not being shy, just keeping your thoughts to yourself. And there were quite a lot of them. So these interviews were a breath of fresh air, having the ability to prattle on about stuff because someone asked about it. A good conversation always made you so talkative it was almost impossible for you to stop. In a nice company, you felt comfortable to talk more, and Stones seemed like a decent man, though a bit manipulative with his questions on rather sensitive topics regarding your band. 

He asked you about the quarrel among your bandmates that you didn’t participate in, about what you would like to do after the program was over, about your relationship with your family and about your personal interests, apart from sonic catering. You answered the questions with a certain lightness in your chest, happy to be listened to for once. 

“And for my last question,” Stones started, his attention entirely on the notebook in his hands. “How do you feel- uh,” it seemed as though he was searching for words in his notes, “about the hostess of the institute? Do you like her?”

Oh, that. You and Jan Stevens had a certain dynamic since the first day you arrived. She seemed drawn to you, and you never really protested. She was friendly and helpful, generous and all that stuff. But sometimes she was also playful and tactile, and certainly chattier with you more than with the other members of the band. And did you like her? That would be an understatement. She ignited a fire within you that could never be put out. It was obvious that she felt pretty much the same. 

“Who’s asking?” you smirked and took a drag on your cigarette. 

“W- well, I am asking. So, do you like her?” Stones replied, suddenly very nervous. 

Why would that information be necessary anyway? It was obvious that you liked her. But maybe not to Jan Stevens herself? Even after you kissed? 

Yeah, that happened, too. What a strange encounter it was. Jan Stevens caught you in the backrooms and initiated a conversation that didn’t last very long. At some point, she gave you one last praise about your performance and, as if pulled by an invisible force, leaned down and kissed you. You were startled with such straightforwardness, but you liked it. It was a quick, softest kiss, you didn’t even have the time to wrap your arms around her. She pulled away, a somewhat terrified look on her face. For some reason she felt the urge to apologise and after muttering a soft 'I’m so sorry', she disappeared. 

Ever since that day she tried distancing herself from you, it was very obvious that she fought a battle in her head every time she looked at you during late night dinners and midday meetings with your band. Nothing could hide her yearning hungry gaze and how she squirmed in her seat every time you entered the room. You never asked her about that kiss, you never told her how much you wanted her. And sometimes it felt even enraging, how she decided for both of you to end something that didn’t even begin. She could come and get it, after all. If only she had the guts to do it.

“Jan Stevens reads your notes, doesn’t she?” Of course, she did. That was the whole point of the interviews. Stones nodded. “I don’t think my bandmates received that question, huh?”

Stones’ expression gave out that no, none of them did. Your lips curled into a grin, and you looked at the dictaphone on the coffee table. 

“Are you recording all of this? On this thing?” you asked. Stones nodded once again and you grounded the cigarette out in the ashtray. “I am very grateful for the hostess’ support. And yes, I like her. I like her very, very much. Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Yes, why?”

“Can you leave me to it? There are some things I want to say to Jan Stevens in private.” At first Stones wanted to protest but in the end he didn’t really care. 

“Alright, I need to go to the bathroom anyway.” And he left. 

You looked at the clock on the wall: 3:20 p.m. Oh, this is going to be a long message. Jan Stevens had no idea what she got herself into. 

“So instead of talking to me directly you send Stones off to me to talk about us? I have to admit, I am a bit angry. You really got under my skin, huh,” you started, grabbing the dictaphone from the table. 

“I… I meant it. I like you. And I know that you like me. Why did you run away that night? I see how you look at me. I see it all. And I could give you everything, if only you had asked. You could have just invited me to your house and I would rush to slip out of my bed and come see you. And you could personally ask me if I like you.

“I have something in mind, though. Please, if you don’t want to listen to all of this, you can turn it off. But maybe you need this. Maybe I need this. I just- I want you to know that I not just like you, I want you. And I never told you otherwise, so I don’t understand- okay. We can talk about it later.  I hope we will. Now, If you allow me by listening further, I could indulge you in something.”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and thought about it for a second. You had to just start. It would come to you naturally. 

Then, you started your monologue. Slowly, in airy voice, building up necessary tension and separating your words with languid pauses.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

“Please, make yourself comfortable. I am not used to performing with my voice, but I think I know a thing or two. And are you in your office right now? I hope not. If you are, I want you to press pause and go to your bed. If you are already in bed, just lay down and rest the dictaphone on your pillow. Good.

“Now, be a good girl and undress yourself, don’t worry, I’ll wait for you, but don’t make me wait for too long. I want you completely bare for this… Did you start undressing yourself? You better hurry up. I’m growing impatient, dear. And I don’t want to sit here for too long and make Stones nervous, after all. Yes, slide these knickers down your legs. I wonder what colour they are. Oh, how I wish to be there right now and take them off myself. You have absolutely no idea. Keep undressing if you didn’t finish already. I’ll give you a few more seconds…

“Very well. Lie back down on your pillows. Hmm… Close your eyes. Bring your fingers to your mouth, two is enough. Good, good. Make them nice and wet, push them as deep as they can go. I want you to push in and out, in… and out. Yes. A few more times just for me? Aren’t you a sweet thing, Jan Stevens? I wonder what you taste like. I wonder how it would feel to have your lips wrapped around my fingers. Now, you can take them out. Make sure they are really wet, don’t cheat. Alright, slide them down your body, slowly! Yes, yes, right between your breasts. When you reach your belly button, stop.

“I want you to touch your breasts. Don’t rush, just nice and gentle, just like that. Just like I would do. Play with your nipples, hmm, yes, you can rub them, you can wet your fingers once again and circle. You can pinch yourself, if you’d like. Yes, yes, I knew you would like that. 

“I can just imagine you laying there, are your legs spread? Yes, make sure you make yourself open for me, and no, don’t stop touching your breasts. Be patient. Oh, what a mistake you had made. You thought you could fool me with this stupid interview, but now I am the one in charge. And you will do as I say. Right, where was I? You can slide your hands down your sides, but don’t you dare touch that pussy. Just across your stomach, yes, yes, and you can stroke your thighs as well. It’s a Thursday afternoon, by the way. Half past three, I think? But you already know when that was recorded. I hope you’ll listen to it tonight. Don’t make me wait. You are the one who should be waiting like a good girl, spread on your bed just for me. And I will be sitting here and guiding you through it. You are so hot, dear. Feel how warm and soft your skin is under your fingers. Don’t stop until I tell you so. Oh, Jan. Can I call you Jan? I think formalities are long forgotten anyway. Jan, Jan, Jan. I like how that sounds. I would like to call you my mistress, but I feel like a good girl title suits you better. For now, at least. Now, say my name. Mhm.. you know I can’t hear it, but I can vividly imagine how it sounds on your lips right now. Louder… I. said. Louder.

“Imagine me sitting right between your legs and ask me nicely. Say ‘please’. I like how polite you are. Yes, yes, what is it? What do you need? Are you still following me? Oh, I can’t do anything with you if you don’t tell me what it is that you want. Do you want me to kiss you? Do you want me to fuck you? I am afraid you have to deal with it on your own. No, I didn’t tell you to touch yourself yet. Are you getting wet? I hope so, or I must be terrible at this, huh. Now, roll to your side. Left or right, I don’t care. But since you are right handed I would suggest rolling to your left. Are you settled? Good. Good girl, so good at following my orders. Grab your ass with your hand. Just like that. Mhm, I can imagine how soft that is. Squeeze it for me, Jan. I want your nails to leave prints…

“Now, I need you to slap it. Yes, you heard me. Just a light slap, oh, yes, feel how it wiggles? That’s what I like. That’s what I would want to see if I was there. Such a pity. Slap again. You deserve it. Harder. Yes, harder. Even harder. I do hope you behave and follow my orders. Yes, bury that pretty face in your pillow. One more time. One more. And one last time for me. Hmm… good. Stroke your skin, I’m sure it hurts. Softly and slowly, yeah. You can turn on your back. 

“Don’t forget to spread your legs again. Are you panting already? I barely did anything. Well, I did nothing, it was all your doing. Open your pussy with two fingers for me. Careful, don’t touch your clit yet. You can move your fingers up and down your lips, yes, nice and slow-“

Tum, tum, tum. 

“What is it?” you turned your attention to the door. 

“Are you finishing there?” Stones asked. 

“No, she’s nowhere near finishing. Now leave me alone,” you snapped and continued speaking into the dictaphone. “Oh dear, sorry. We wouldn’t be interrupted if you just invited me to your house. Now, what are you doing there? I hope you keep following my orders. Move your fingers lower. Mhm, feel how slick you are. Perfect. Make your fingers wet and touch your clit. Don’t rush. Never rush until I tell you to go faster. Circle it for me, right, just touch yourself like you always do. Like you do when you lay in your bed and imagine my head between your thighs. Do you do this every night? Every night since we’ve met? I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. Are you squirming already? Go slowly, my love, and don’t apply much pressure. Lightly, yes, such a good girl. My mouth is tired of speaking already, you know, I usually don’t talk much. But when it comes to you, the only way to shut me up… yeah, you guessed it. Fuck, I’m so wet for you right now. The picture of you in my head drives me insane…

“Stop touching yourself. I hope I don’t have to repeat myself. Don’t be upset, dear. Just push your fingers inside, it’s all I want. Very well. I’m sure it slipped in easily. Patience, patience, and push gently. Deeper. That’s what I would do to you. Do you like it? Is there something else that you need, Jan Stevens? So insatiable. I adore you for it. Keep fucking yourself and listen to me…

“Imagine me fucking you with a strap, thrusting painfully slowly. Deep. Making you grow impatient with every second of it. I would pound into you, gaining speed just to pull out and push inside of you again, and you would moan and beg for me to go harder. Don’t worry, I think of it every night myself. It puts me to sleep, thinking of all the things I could do to you. Or do you want me to fuck you with my tongue? To bring you to orgasm after an orgasm with my mouth. Or is it only my fingers that you need? I would stroke them up and down your needy cunt and taste you on my fingers before pushing them inside, but still. I would go so slow, I would make your legs tremble under me. And you would look so beautiful, just like you always do. I can imagine that pretty mouth of yours open. I bet you sound divine. Are you still listening? If you are, pay special attention right now,” and with that, your tone changed, growing even lower and hotter. 

“Pull your fingers out of yourself. I need you to call me right now and tell me to come see you. Yes, you heard me. If you have listened up to this point, you know what I will do to you. Call me. I am waiting. And I am impatient.”

You ended the recording and breathed out. If Stones wouldn’t deliver this to Jan Stevens, you would kill him with your bare hands. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

The night of the same day, Jan Stevens was lying on her sheets, absolutely ruined, desperate. A voice recorder on her pillow. Her chest rose up and fell back down in heavy breaths. She cleaned off her fingers and stood up from her bed, whimpering when her tights pressed together. She reached the stationary phone and pressed it to her hot cheek, panting, waiting for you to answer.

[am-i-interrupting]

Hello!I see that your requests are open so!If you feel like it,maybe something on Viktor with a touchstarved s/o who has trouble initiating physical affection?

The Warmth In A Touch

The first time Viktor touched you it was an accident, a misunderstanding of direction which resulted in the touching of shoulders. It was accidental, not at all deliberate, and something that should not have stuck inside your head but it did.

Warmth wasn’t something that you could often get outside of warm drinks and underneath a pile of blankets. When it came from someone else, when it came from Viktor, it stuck in your mind. It didn’t matter that it was an accidental brush of the hand or shoulder.

The first time he deliberately touched you, it was as he showed you something using his microscope. You hunched over so you could peer through the lense. His cane was propped up against the desk as he leaned close. One hand went to adjust the focus of the microscope and the other rested on your back, between your shoulder blades.

His hand wasn’t warm but it was warm in comparison to the slight chill of the lab. That one point of focus drew all your attention and you could only hum and nod along as he began to prattle on about a theory he was in the process of making. Even when his hand disappeared, the imprint was still there, like it’d been stamped on your skin. It lingered.

You quickly found yourself yearning for his touch but unable to ask for it. You were both friends, work partners. You couldn’t ask for his touch. It’d be breaking so many boundaries but even when those boundaries were crossed anyway, you couldn’t find it within yourself to ask him.

He was the one who’d asked you on a date. Of course, you said yes. It was hard not to when it was Viktor of all people who asked.

You had dinner with him. It was nice. You walked each other home, not living too far apart and within eye distance of one another. Things started to develop.

It was slow. He wasn’t afraid to lean into your personal space now. Sometimes you held hands. It wasn’t much but it left you yearning, hungry for more. It was hard to realize how starved you were of touch until you had an appetizer in front of you.

Jace had left for the day nearly half an hour ago, when Viktor walked over.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and he looked at what you had in front of you. You couldn’t help but lean into it just the slightest bit. You always did.

He gently massaged the muscles of your back, working out knots mindlessly. He rested his chin atop your head.

“I have a theory of sorts,” he said and you hummed. “I’ve been taking notes. At first, I thought it made you uncomfortable when I touched you and you never initiated touch yourself. It seemed very obvious but I had to test that hypothesis and I do believe it’s been proven wrong.

“You still seem to tense but you’ve also begun to lean into any touch. I thought maybe you’d bring it up yourself but you haven’t. So may I ask if I’m right?”

“I— I don’t mind when you touch me, Viktor, I just— I don’t—“ words failed you as you attempted to gather your thoughts and place them into something understandable.

“It’s okay,” he said, “you don’t have to explain, just answer this. Is it enjoyable when I touch you?”

A deep breath, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

And that night Viktor pulled you into his bedroom. He pulled back the blankets of his bed and laid beneath them, beckoning you to follow suit. Then he wrapped his arms around you and it was like you could breathe as the kind of warmth you so long craved finally engulfed you.

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Five

A/n: Hellooo! 25 is here!! Thank you for all of the incredible feedback on the last two updates! It honestly made my entire weeekkk, you're all so lovely it hurts. But, this part will be a little bit different, it starts off with a monologue of sorts from our very own G:) so I hope you enjoy that and then it just continues on from where we ended Part 23! :D

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Nothing much, angst, but when is there not with these two? and swearing as per usual:)

Masterlist

—GEORGE’S POV—

I made a promise. A very long time ago. 

On a street corner under dazzling lights.

Then again in a tiny little hospital bathroom.

Once more at a train station so hectic I could barely even hear myself think.

And I kept on making that same promise. Like a prayer on a loop forever inside my head.

At gigs; from across the top of our kitchen counter; on the tour bus; and during flights over seas. A prayer. A promise. So simple. Innocent, really. Always on the tip of my tongue. Scratched into the walls of my throat, there but never heard. 

An endless loop. A cycle.

I never once thought that I’d break it.

That I’d be the one to break her. Not after everything.

But I was.

I made a promise that I couldn’t keep and it didn’t just break her, it broke me.

…

I felt strange whenever I was with her. It started out as a nervousness, this tiny fizzing ball of it sat at the very top of my stomach. She’d waltzed into the music room I’d taken to hiding in most days and rendered my mind empty. She’d prattled away about this and that, and I’d quickly learnt that that was her own way of hiding. She was just simply better at it. 

It was so long ago now and yet, her smile hasn’t changed and neither have her soulful eyes.

I’d wandered around after her for a short while as kids. The nervousness that I’d felt had shifted into curiosity. The boys had been welcoming enough, but her. She was just something other. And she didn’t even know it. Didn’t see the lingering eyes that trailed after her. The sappy smiles and laughs she garnered. 

I’d bugged her at first, I knew that. This kid that never had much to say. I’d put her on edge, made her wary of the secrets she’d held too close to her chest. Because like calls to like. 

She was hard to figure out in the beginning, sometimes even after it, so strong and effortless in the way she went about things, in how she lied. But we were one in the same. And when she finally let me in, it was like everything clicked. And what she’d had yet to realise was that she’d disarmed me without even trying to. I’d have done anything she asked. 

There was this one night, the first night I call it, where she’d been battered to bits sat outside on a park bench not too far off my road. I’d spotted her from a mile off. Because of course I had, she was the lighthouse that called to my dull and aching sea. And I hadn’t known what to make of it at first, just a kid myself, but then I’d told her why I’d been out walking so late and in turn she’d dropped the facade and gifted me one of her truths.

I found out she preferred tea to coffee that same night, and that she hated hot-chocolate.

As the weeks bled into months she let me have a few more.

That summer in London had been one of the best ones of my life. Even now I think back to it and grin, wishing I could step back into it, smile at her one last time before I lost her again.

She’d sung to me one night during that trip, late late into the early hours of the morning. She’d been curled up against me, both our eyes heavy with sleep. But she’d sung, sweet as anything I’d ever heard into the curve of my chest. And I’d held my breath the whole while and just listened.

My Birdie, my little songbird.

By the end of the time we’d spent holed up in that house with her Nana, Aunt and Big Cyril too, she’d gifted me a lighter. The same one she carried with her every place she went. She had spent the morning gardening with her nan, the bullmastiff sprawled lazily on the grass beside them, and then she’d come back in to find me and let it drop into my hand. 

It was the one thing I treasured most, I took it everywhere. Even to this day. 

I can remember the one time I thought I’d lost it- this is years beyond the days spent in Bethnal Green, on the first proper tour we’d landed- she hadn’t been with me and it’d been all I’d had of her. 

I’d fucking lost it. Completely. Don’t think the guys had ever seen me so worked up. I’d torn apart every inch of that bus as well as our dressing room too trying to find it, only for Matty to come stumbling up the steps with it in his hand a while later, joint dangling from his lips. His eyes had never been stretched so wide, the way I’d gone off on him had not just surprised everyone else, but me too. And I’d realised later on, in the hours after the show had ended with me curled up in my tiny bunk, that it hadn’t just been about the lighter. I was stuck, half-way to losing my mind without her near. It’d felt like I’d left half of me back home.

And when things had ended between us…

When things had ended between us, I’d lost myself completely.

So torn up about things I’d been too scared to face. 

I’d left. I’d been the one to give up. To give up on one of the few good things life had ever given me.

And I’d sat staring at the clock trying to pass time for weeks after.

—

I love you.

Love’s a funny, fickle thing. Isn’t it?

It can build you up but just as easily tear you down again.

It stains, worse than red wine on cheap carpet or blood on a white tee.

It hollows you out, makes itself a hole right there in your heart. A hole which starts out so tiny, it’s barely even noticeable. Until it’s gone and you’re left with a throbbing empty wound in your chest.

I remember how much my mum loved my dad.

When I was little, like really little, they used to sing to one another. Dance about in our kitchen and laugh over cups of steaming tea. And when dad got ill that love only brightened, I saw it. In the small things she did. How’d she’d cook his favourite meal most days so that he could remember and read him the morning newspaper when he was feeling too tired to keep his eyes open. She loved him, I knew that. And she’d loved me once too. 

After he was gone I spent a lot of time down south. At Nana’s and Aunt Delany’s. Mum didn’t have much family, her parents both having passed long before I was even born, and her being an only child. So I spent time in London. A lot of time. Whilst she’d stayed home, pretending.

I’d only been young, nine or so. I missed him like you would a limb. I missed her too. I lost them both the day that he died. And I told Nana so, she’d just said that grief took time, and Aunt Del claimed that I reminded mum too much of my dad. My guilt frayed that day, unraveled itself inside me. And so I stayed in London long after the funeral until mum finally came and got me, she took me back home again. Only home wasn’t there anymore. And everything in that house reminded me of him.

I think my mum forgot how to love after. Like all of it left her when he did.

And I, well I was just a painful reminder of it. One she couldn’t bare to see. 

So I took the brunt of her emotions. A lot of them new. Just like all of the people she let in and out of the house. I learned to keep quiet, shut my mouth after the first few. Learned to cover up, to brave a smile. I became a liar. A skilled one too. But I still loved. I loved her because she was my mother. I loved her because I didn’t know what else I could do. But with her love, came blame, came guilt, came fault. And her love, once red, was now only blue. Hues of it, black and purple on tender skin. Cruel words dotted into sentences and distinctive falls of feet.

Love. 

It came to me in other ways as I grew older though. 

In friendships, like the one I shared with Vicky. And in people like Ross and Adam who bothered me greatly in ways that only brothers could. With Matty and all his eccentricity. Who’s love shined bright and came in bursts of all sorts of colours. His love kept me on my toes and breathless, it came with a family, how his sort of became mine. 

And then with George, who had shown me a whole new meaning to the word. Who gave me another place to live and to grow, a home who was just a person. He warmed me, made me feel safe. His love let me wander, and it let me feel free. His love came in gentle touches and kisses so deep. When I was around his love I wanted to forget my own name. And when he left me, I don’t know how I really stayed steady. The whole world tilted on its head and shook the ground beneath me. He left and I’d never felt that much pain. Everything around me grew silent, life dulled. That love I felt dimmed.

He looked up at me now, in a room so far away from the one we’d once shared. His very presence made me weak, made that grief I always felt so much more profound. He loves me. But I don’t know if I believe him. I love him. But I’m also a liar. That I knew. 

He’d given me the decision this time around. Because he’d been selfish the last, when he’d left with not even a warning. But it felt selfish now too, for him to leave it all up to me. 

Up to me… 

I love you.

His words, not mine.

I love you.

Said so quietly.

He’d left me with a choice. One he had to know would only rip me in two again.

And so I kissed him. It was almost a parallel to our first, over wrinkled bedsheets and in a house neither of us owned. It took me back. His hand was stilled my hair, his nose brushed against my own and the skin of my cheek. My chest ached with it. Lungs filled with lost air, dwindling.

I was tired of being brave, I thought. My whole life I’d been fighting. With him he made it feel so easy, but I was scared. Scared that letting him back in meant giving up. 

What was braver, to stay or to go?

I pulled away, kept my eyes closed as we caught our breath in the heady sun-warmed villa, foreheads pressed together.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

I paused. That hole in me ached again.

“I know.”

Then I asked him to leave.

—

The air felt different here. So many miles away from the little town I’d grown up in. 

The skies were bluer, clearer here. The sun shone brighter, warmer. Walking felt easier.

I let myself get lost in the old town, I gazed over the shore and the sand, murmured quietly to owners of quaint market stalls in the main square. I let my feet lead me this way and that. Under a aging clocktower as it gonged and behind a row of multi-coloured houses. I didn’t think. Wouldn’t let myself. I counted as high as I could. Reminded myself of the colours of the rainbow. Kept my gaze trained on every sound I heard, children laughing, mopeds speeding past, talks over early lunches. 

I didn’t know why I’d ended up here. Maybe it was because I needed to know. Know if I could love without him. If I could just try. I went and sat in the waiting room, cardigan clenched in shaking hands, eyes stuck on it.

I felt the bench beside me dip under his weight a little while later and I knew it was him without even having to look. He had this aura about him, this grace. He didn’t speak, didn’t utter a word, simply sat and waited with me, or for me rather. I couldn’t be too sure. I didn’t think I’d ever felt this confused. 

“How’d you know I was here?” I asked him after a prolonged pause. I hadn’t said a word to anyone after I’d arrived, just left it up to chance as I took a seat here in the waiting room to this massive hospital. 

I hadn’t seen much of it the first time around. 

Alvaro shifted next to me slightly, I could see the trim of his crisp white coat out of the corner of my eye. “My horoscope told me to be on the look out for an unexpected traveller.” He teased and I cracked a small smile down at my hands, before I glanced up and over to him. His eyes searched mine for a long second, before he then told me the truth. “I saw you here just as I was going on break.”

I nodded, guilt creeping its way in again. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”

He waved me off, shaking his head with a kind smile. “You could never. I mean, I could have just hidden, no? If I didn’t want to see you.”

I blew a small laugh out of my nose, “I suppose.”

He grinned over at me, pleased to see me smile it seemed. “I was hoping I would see you again.”

My eyes drifted back and forth between his own, “Oh?”

He hummed a quiet confirmation, grinning at a toddler that stormed on by, “You left an impression.”

I had to chuckle at that. “I’ve heard that a few too many times before.”

He smiled. 

We shared a comfortable silence then, letting the rush of the hospital fill the empty space between us. I fiddled with the wool of my cardigan.

“You know,” I started out quietly, thinking the words over before I let my tongue taste them, “When we first met, I thought you wanted to steal that chair.”

Alvaro’s expression turned to one of bemusement and I cracked another unavoidable smile.

“Not steal, steal. Just, the restaurant was busy, I thought you might’ve wanted the chair for another table. You know?”

He chuckled and dipped his head in an agreeable nod, glancing up at me with a coy smile. 

“But instead you just sat down.” I giggled, the absurdity of it still amused me even now. “You just sat down and you sort of… made me believe in people again. Is that weird?”

Alvaro looked back at me, eyes focused, sharp now, but still warm. He didn’t laugh me off or make me feel stupid, instead he took a small breath and shifted in his seat to better face me. “No. I don’t think it’s weird. It’s like how I didn’t know that me sitting down with you would lead to us talking for as long as we did. About the books we shared and the love of all things food.” He gifted me an affectionate smile. “Sometimes the universe, it just gives us what we need in the moment we need it most.”

“And did you need it?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, and I almost regretted it when I watched the way his expression turned graver, how he begun to toy with his thumbs. 

“It was my first day back.” I frowned at his vague reply, confused for a second, but he soon continued on, “I, I lost my mother, a few weeks before we first met, and I took some time off to…”

“Grieve.”

He nodded at me, smile small but there. “Yes. Sitting with you in that little bistro, it was the first time I spoke about her without breaking down. It felt like she was still there, you know? But not waiting for me to come home anymore, instead she was just all around.”

I did know. I knew that feeling very well. 

“That day, I was supposed to be on a twelve hour shift. I was, how do you say? Not looking forward to it.” We shared a mirthful smile. “Then I saw you and, I don’t know, you captivated me.”

I glanced away, almost embarrassed. Bashful. That was not something I’d heard before. 

Alvaro chuckled, but not unkindly. “You were alone, like me. I think I saw a likeness there. We were of the same.”

My first thought was that I couldn’t picture him sad. That it felt strange to even imagine. And I couldn’t even comprehend that this person sat beside me, so full of life, so open, could hurt the same. How he stayed so positive through it all. 

“If it had been anyone else, I don’t think I could have done it.”

“What, sat down?” I questioned, looking back at him now. He nodded his head.

“I just didn’t think about it. One second I was on the street looking in, and then…” he shrugged.

I let that sink in.

A truth for a truth? Was that the way of the world, or was that just ours? George and I’s. Or, maybe just mine now.

“Matty- you remember him? Crazy curls, big grin?” I said and Alvaro nodded again, laughing quietly whilst I smiled. “Well, he was the one to surprise me with this trip. I’d been… I’d been going through a lot. This past year, it’s been hard. Harder than I expected, to be honest. I sort of felt like I’d lost everything and had been forced to start over again.”

Alvaro blinked, casting his eyes down to the tiled floor then back up at me again, as though he was contemplating his words. “This has something to do with your other friend? The one who was here.”

It wasn’t really a question though. It was something he was certain of, but unsure on whether to bring up. I swallowed and dipped my chin in reply.

“He- We were together for a long time.” I revealed, voice soft, almost getting swept up in the hustle and bustle of the crowd which surrounded us. “We ended- well, really he, ended things rather abruptly. I, I just didn’t see it coming, you know? One second everything was fine, I was happy. I thought he was too. And then. Then he was gone and I was on my own again.”

I had to take a deep breath, calm the emotional storm welling inside of my chest. It still felt like it’d happened only yesterday. 

“I’d never really pictured life without him. From the minute we met there was just something about him. He had my heart before he ever even asked for it.” I went on, gaze locked on the cardigan I continued to cling onto like a lifeline. “I was on my own before. I had people. Friends. But never someone like him. I knew everything about him, and him me. Everyone thought we were it. The type that would hold out. But then I was stuck, he’d dropped me and I was just stuck wondering what I’d done wrong. He broke my heart, he broke me. And everything that followed…” I chuckled hollowly, defeated, “My life just fell apart after. I lost our flat, my job. The friends we shared. He was my entire world. And then he was gone.”

Alvaro’s hand reached out to carefully take mine, he unfisted it from the tight hold I had on my cardigan. I was crying then I realised, but not really. Muted tears that rolled down the bones of my cheeks. His palm fell onto the back of my hand and his fingers linked between mine effortlessly. My eyes slipped closed.

I heard him inhale beside me before he finally spoke again, quieter than I’d ever heard him before.

“When he arrived here, after you were admitted, I was sat in the ward. I didn’t know who he was or that he was here for you- God, I didn’t even know you were here.” He chuckled lowly, thinking back to it, “But he was panicked. The nurses were surprised, and I was too. But you often see people so full of fear in hospitals. The not knowing is hard, for everyone. I think he had a bag slung over his shoulder and he looked tired, but mostly just scared. I only remember because I was the one who spoke to him, whilst one of the on-call nurses tried to find any information to give him. He didn’t say a single word, but he looked… he looked haunted. Like a man who had a gun to his head. And it worried even me- this man, not much younger than myself, stood there in front of me just begging to be told something good. Silently praying for it. As though he would drop down dead there otherwise.”

I kept my eyes closed, lips pinched to keep from outright sobbing at his words. 

“I think the nurse said something because I remember looking over to her, and he must have heard first or seen something I hadn’t because he was gone in the next second. I tried to go after him but,” He stilled and then shrugged a single shoulder, “I had patients to look after, staff waiting for scans and test results. I only saw him again that same morning you were released. He wouldn’t look me in the eye, but I knew it then. That you were also the same, both so stubborn. You were upset with him and I didn’t know why, but you kept on stealing glances. I remember seeing you, too scared to look away and not find him still there, whilst acting as though you didn’t care whether he stayed or he left.”

A muffled, broken sob spurted from me at that and he cradled an arm around me to pull me in closer. I cried into his shoulder, not sparing a second thought to those around us.

“Sometimes the people we love they hurt us. Sometimes they leave. But often times they hurt too. So much that they can’t help the pain that spills out of them and onto us. I think,” Alvaro paused and I felt him tighten his hold on my hand a fraction, “I think you need to talk to him, corazón. Maybe then you’ll find some relief. Some happiness.”

I gulped down whatever lump had risen with my tears and pressed my lips tightly together before finally pulling away. I must’ve looked an absolute state and I heard how hoarse my voice sounded when I went to apologise for it, “I, I’m so sorry, Alvaro. I don’t know what came over me, why I even turned up here.” I sniffed, feeling so silly, but he merely smiled in turn, his hand still in mine.

“There’s no need for sorry’s, I’m glad that you came.” He assured me and I chuckled self-depreciatingly.

“What, even after I cried all over your shoulder?”

He laughed sweetly, “Even after you cried all over my shoulder.”

I smiled and wiped the tears from under my eyes, still feeling so emotional. “I am sorry though, for just turning up and disrupting your day.”

Alvaro shook his head, “It was a highlight, I promise!” 

I couldn’t help but blow out a soft chuckle as we both stood. He squeezed my hand once more before he dropped it and I stepped froward to wrap him up in a hug, beyond thankful for his presence. For the advice he’d given me.

“Make sure you stop in again before you leave, okay? Your friends too.” He murmured over my head and I smiled up at him and agreed. 

“Promise.”

“Good, good. And this man of yours, make sure you tell him everything, si?” Alvaro added, stepping away again. “Even if it hurts, because to hurt means to grieve. It’ll help.”

My head tilted to one side as my smile broadened. “How did you become so wise? Is it a doctor thing?” I was teasing but only just, he merely had a way with words it seemed.

“My abuelita.” He replied with a sheen to his eyes, smiling all the while. “There was nothing she could not fix.”

I stared up at him, cardigan now falling limp beside me. “And what would she say to me? To fix this.”

With a chuckle Alvaro spoke, not even needing to think about it. “Tardé una hora en conocerte y solo un día en enamorarme. Pero me llevará toda una vida lograr olvidarte.” He smiled at me softly, “It was something she often said to my agüelo whenever they squabbled.”

It took me an hour to meet you and only a day to fall in love. But it will take me a lifetime to forget you.

It was beautiful.

And I told him so around a grateful smile. 

Part Twenty-six>

[princelylove]

My Prince,

This is a bit personal, so feel free not to respond if you desire to do so. A fear I have is driving. I think I’m a bad driver. I get over it enough to drive, since I have to, but I’ve come home panicking over almost getting into a car accident. It feels terrible. My fear is that I’m going to accidentally kill/hurt someone and then I don’t know how I’d live with it. I’m mostly scared about myself driving, I feel less worried if I think the driver isn’t reckless.

I wonder if and how yanderes would use the fear to make me dependent on them.

They could screw up my car, sabotage it so it breaks down, or mess with my tires? They get to be a ‘knight in shining armor’ when they coincidentally show up to help if I’m stranded. Struggling to get money needed for repairs is also a good opportunity for them.

Show me videos or news reports of terrible car crashes or pileups to remind me of the danger, or tell me about people they knew that were injured or died in a car accident?

I don’t know how anyone could do this, but somehow orchestrate car crashes to happen around me so I see them up close?

Maybe they could make comments about my driving, insult my driving, make a joke out of it to hurt my confidence while driving and make me feel guilty? But I’d hope they would be at least somewhat gentle about it…

And then as I get more scared of being ‘behind the wheel’, they could slowly offer to take me places themselves, until it’s to the point I’m dependent on them for getting around. If I refuse to drive, they have significant control of my schedule and how I do things. It also makes it much harder to escape a kidnapping if I’m too scared to take transportation.

Who would most likely do these kind of things?

i apologize for this being so long, and it’s appreciated if Your Highness read through all this blabbering. Thank you very much.

You would like a yandere that scares you, anon? One that manipulates you? It's too easy sometimes.

I like it when my peons prattle, it's often cute.

Typical manipulators are going to abuse any sort of fear- Noriaki, Diavolo, Melone... the list goes on. Cars are tricky because they don't really come around until part two, and leave in part six. Part seven has very, very new ones- they count, I guess. There's a window where cars are just in development and not that reliable, but I don't see many yanderes in part three and behind as all that manipulative.

Sure, Caesar is, but he's too proud to take the easy way out. Lisa Lisa doesn't see the point in cars when you're meant to be living on her private island. Joseph respects the technique and isn't above sabotaging yours, but... that's pretty lame. He's more creative than that.

There's also the fact that some manipulative yanderes are out of touch or otherwise don't care for cars. Kars doesn't know what that thing is and he doesn't care to learn. DIO is newly acquainted, but isn't going to drive himself, as he's above it. Giorno is banned from being behind the wheel ever since the White Album incident. Leone is normally too tipsy to reasonably put himself behind the wheel, Bruno tends to walk everywhere...

Some yanderes could sabotage your car with their stand if they wanted to, but putting on the news works too. Court TV is on because knowing about the news is important, no you can't have the remote. Ohh, that man drove into a parade, that's crazy. They're saying he was drinking. Isn't that little treat you get during the day alcoholic? Ohh, no? I thought there was a lawsuit going on with the company that makes it, said they were putting it in and mislabeling it. Crazy, huh.

Mariah fucks with your car before she asks you to drive her anywhere. Kochi could easily attach "Heavy!" under your car in traffic, as he did in canon. Akira could- well, to be honest with you, I'm not sure how cars work, but I'm sure Red Hot Chili Peppers could mess with it somehow. Machines are always going to be just that- machines. They break, they stop working. Fickle things.

As for who I think definitely would.... Melone likes to do tricks on his bike to scare you, Hol Horse would do just about anything to get one up on you, and Funny Valentine is absolutely not above orchestrating a crash in front of you. Newly invented, so unreliable.

But some yanderes are very understanding about it, can you take the train or just walk? Maybe bike? They'll come with you so you don't get lonely! Josuke normally takes a train to get to his university, he can teach you how to use the little card and how to get a good seat or stand in a good place.

Or, you could get lucky and get Jolyne, who wasn't gonna let you drive anyway and takes safety super, super seriously. Or Rohan, who could easily rewrite any of your fears! (But won't.)

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Solitary Solace zine! The hard part of being a multishipper is wanting to write all the ships and not having the time to do so, so I cheat like this and smush them all together. XD Lots of ship teasing and 1 uncle teasing because I can't not put in Alois and his dad jokes

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Monday:

The only good days were cloudy days. Actually, no, as far as Bernadetta was concerned, the only good days were rainy days. No one forced her to go out on rainy days and she could hide in her room for as long as she wanted. The second-best days were the cloudy ones, when people didn’t like to linger outside, when they just looked at their feet and were fine with ignoring good ol’ Bernie as she went about her business.

That was probably the only reason she agreed to garden with Edelgard. Well, that and her Venus flytrap needed repotting.

Somehow, a simple task was starting to look like a workout. Bernadetta wiped her sweat, streaking soil across her forehead.

“Why is the dirt so heavy?” she grumbled, glaring at the bag of potting soil at her feet. Just who had thought it’d be a good idea to put all those bags in the far corner of the greenhouse, away from the tables?

“Need a hand?” Edelgard asked, looking up from her neat row of tomatoes. They all looked perfectly aligned. Bernadetta sometimes wondered if either she or Hubert were human, but she hadn’t figured out the answer to that yet.

“Yes—No, I’m good,” she quickly corrected herself, grabbing the potting soil bag again and ineffectively dragging it away. Considering how much of a stickler Edelgard was for practicality, she probably wouldn’t appreciate Bernadetta wasting resources on a plant that they couldn’t even eat. Maybe she’d toss the plant on the ground.

Or maybe she’d feed Bernadetta to it. There was a play with a plot like that, right?

“It’s clearly too heavy for you.” Edelgard stuck her trowel in the dirt before getting up. It was funny how normal she looked, dressed down in white buttoned-up shirt and black tights. She looked like any other student and not the Emperor. Grabbing the other end of the bag, she hoisted it up. “Here.”

Bernadetta cried out, almost falling over in surprise. “D-don’t scare me like that.”

Edelgard regarded her coolly. “I thought we already went over this? If you can’t handle your allies approaching you, how are you to deal with our enemies?”

“That’s…” She bit her lip. Honestly, if she just got to stay in her room, she wouldn’t have to worry about any of that. Other people could fight the war, she could live with any victor. Before Bernadetta could reply, Edelgard already started pulling the bag and guiding them to the potting area.

“Sometimes you worry me,” Edelgard sighed, though she didn’t sound angry or even disappointed. Just concerned. It was an odd sound.

Bernadetta didn’t know what to make of it. “Sorry.”

Edelgard waved it off. “It’s fine. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. That’s why we work on them and improve.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Bernadetta blurted out before she could stop herself. Unfortunately, she was holding a heavy bag and couldn’t cover her mouth or crouch and hide. Turning red, she hastily explained, “Gardening, I mean. Not that you’re a bad gardener but—”

“It’s fine, I get it.” Edelgard chuckled. “This isn’t the place you’d expect to find an Emperor, right? But that’s part of the new world we’re creating. Anyone can be anywhere, do anything. Even emperors and gardening.”

“And the vegetables?” Bernadetta asked, still expecting the bolt of lightning.

“Well, they’re practical plants and we have to eat. Even more—is that your old flytrap?” She paused, raising a brow.

Dropping her side of the bag, Bernadetta ran to her plant and hunched over it protectively. “Ahh, I’m sorry—please don’t destroy it—or me, don’t destroy me either, oh I should have known better than to—”

Edelgard stumbled backward slightly at the unexpected release. Regaining her balance, she owlishly blinked as Bernadetta prattled on. “What?”

Bernadetta moaned. Of course, she wouldn’t agree. “I knew it, it was too much to ask for, make the execution quick, oh I just can’t bear to watch—”

“No, that’s not—” Edelgard sighed, setting down the bag entirely. Slowly, like approaching a wounded animal, she stepped closer. “Why would I toss your plant?”

“Then you’ll toss me?” she gasped.

“No, I won’t do either.” There was a touch of impatience in her voice, but Edelgard kept her tone neutral. “Is this the same one from five years ago? It’s a lot bigger now.”

“You won’t?” Hesitantly, Bernadetta straightened, though she kept the plant close.

“I won’t,” Edelgard repeated flatly.

“Oh, good.” Bernadetta sighed with relief. “It has gotten really big—you’re not going to feed me to it, are you?”

Edelgard only sighed.

Tuesday

Bernadetta had never been afraid of ghosts and things in the dark. The dark was her friend, one of the few places where no one bothered her. She had many fond memories of walking through her school’s halls in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately, all of that was before the monastery got partially destroyed. The buildings were full of holes and burn marks, small gaps and collapsed hallways. Small rats ran in hidden tunnels and the whole building felt like a graveyard. Actually, it sorta was a graveyard, and that was partially her fault, if there were any angry spirits, they were definitely out to get her.

Like she didn’t have enough things trying to kill her as it was.

A pebble skittered across the floor and Bernadetta instinctively grabbed Hubert’s arm, pulling him close. “W-What was that?”

To his credit, Hubert didn’t so much as stiffen at the sudden contact, used to this from their many patrols together. Lifting their lamp, he moved the pool of light left and right before shaking his head. “Your own foot, most likely.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed, she pulled away. Not too far; the next one could be an actual attack, after all. As scary as Hubert was, he could scare away any ghost with just a glare. Though…he wasn’t that bad. Bernadetta glanced at the flower patch on his sleeve and smiled. No, he was actually quite kind.

“I am surprised that scared you,” he added, amused, before continuing their patrol.

“It’s dark,” Bernadetta protested, sticking right next to them as they checked the empty halls. “And it’s scary and we have the army, right? Can’t they patrol? At least at night, when there’s,” she dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, “ghosts and stuff.”

“Ghosts?” Hubert raised a brow, glancing at her. “I didn’t think you were afraid of ghosts.”

“I’m not usually, but…we kinda…you know.” Bernadetta gestured around them nervously. “And if anyone wanted revenge…well…now’s a good time.”

Hubert replied wryly, “I doubt that will happen.”

“You don’t believe in ghosts?” she asked, not entirely surprised. Between him and Edelgard, they had the market cornered on bravery and fearlessness. If only she could bottle up their strength and use it on herself.

“Not particularly. Even if there were…” Hubert trailed off, looking at her now. “Well, it’s the living that scares me more.”

Bernadetta lowered her eyes and leaned on him. “That’s…a good point.” It wasn’t a ghost, after all, who’d lock her in her room, threatening her. It wasn’t a ghost who attacked her when she went out. No, those were her father, bandits, enemies, people, all of whom were all too solid and all too real. “Yeah, they’re a lot scarier.”

“See? Nothing to be afraid of,” Hubert added gently.

In the distance, she heard another pebble roll across the floor. A ghost wouldn’t do that. A ghost couldn’t do that.

No, a person could, and the monastery was full of people. People armed to the teeth with swords, daggers, and magic. Clinging to Hubert again, she wailed, “That just made things worse!”

Wednesday:

Ferdinand’s tea was just like the man himself. Bernadetta inhaled the soft rose scent before taking a sip of the gentle, sweet tea. It was strange to think that for months, she’d been terrified of him. It was even stranger to think that they might have been engaged, once upon a time.

In another world, maybe they would have had tea like this on a regular basis and not just when they had a break from their wartime duties. Then again, in another life they might not have even become friends, and Bernadetta doubted she’d feel this comfy with someone she didn’t know. Well, ‘comfy’ in the sense that she didn’t mind their little tea breaks in the courtyard.

“Do you like it?” Ferdinand asked, his eyes bright as he watched her across the table.

“It’s good,” Bernadetta mumbled, never sure how to handle herself when he stared at her like that. She wasn’t used to the attention, and Ferdinand always gave his full attention to whoever he was with. It was like being in a spotlight. Oddly enough, she didn’t entirely hate it.

Pleased, Ferdinand smiled and took a sip himself. “I thought you would quite like the rose blend. It is mixed with some Queen of the Night, a flower that made me think of you.”

He was making fun of her. Bernadetta didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but at her core she was certain that it was true. She’d catch him in the act one day and—well, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, but she’d catch him one day. Picking up her needle, she returned to her sewing and shrugged noncommittally. “You really like flower teas?”

“There are few things better than their delicate flavours.” Setting down his cup, Ferdinand clasped his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles. “Another doll?”

Feeling embarrassed, Bernadetta nodded and lifted the partially completed doll up. It wasn’t much to look at, she knew, just barely in the shape of a person let alone a fairy. “Dorothea asked for one. I don’t know why.”

“Despite your doubts, you put in a lot of skill and love into your creations. Anyone would be honoured to have one.” Ferdinand hummed thoughtfully before asking, “Could I have one?”

“You?” Owlishly, she stared at him. “You want one?”

“Is it really that surprising?” He raised a brow before cocking his head. “Is that a no?”

“Well, I…” Flustered, she nodded. It had been one thing when Dorothea asked; she could pass that off as an accident. Two people wanting her creations? Well, that was preparation for some cruel joke—she just hadn’t figured out what yet. “What do you want?”

Ferdinand stroked his chin, eyeing her for a moment before smiling broadly. “Could you make one of yourself? That way you are always by my side.”

Bernadetta almost dropped her needle. There it was! The trap! “You don’t have to tease me about it!”

Thursday:

The library had always been a quiet, empty place. That much hadn’t changed even now. There were less students, sure, and a few missing steps on the central staircase that hadn’t quite been fixed yet, but the room was otherwise intact and exactly the same. Bernadetta always found peace whenever she entered the cozy room. Even her footsteps sounded muted when she shuffled through the shelves, picking a book to curl up and read.

She wasn’t the only one who thought so. As usual, she found Linhardt at her favourite nook, his head buried deep in his research topic of the day. Bernadetta wasn’t sure when she’d started to expect him here, when he started appearing whenever she needed some alone time. Together alone he had said, but she hadn’t taken him seriously.

Who’d really be interested in her company, especially like this?

Linhardt glanced up from his paper, eyes not so much looking at her but through her as his mind still pulled at his problems. “No paints today?”

“Just a book this time.” Bernadetta leaned against the wall as she settled into the nook, her knees bent before her as she rested the book on them. Having anticipated her, Linhardt had left the sunny side to her. With the two of them nestled in, it was a cozy space. Their feet almost touched. “Research?”

“Something like that.” Linhardt flipped the page and once more he was gone, buried deep in theories that were far above her understanding.

That was more than fine with her. She liked the quiet, the soft flip of a page, their lips soundlessly repeating quotes as they read. Bernadetta had always liked the alone part, but these days she was finding the together part wasn’t so bad.

Friday:

It was incredibly hard to pull out Felix’s smiles. Just like her, they liked hiding inside, only escaping when no one was looking. Ingrid and Sylvain had a far easier time with it than Bernadetta, but she could be stubborn when she wanted to be. After all, it wasn’t like other people just let her stay inside. No, that took dedication.

Dedication she was now pouring into finding Felix’s smile. She’d tried sweets, books, and even paintings. Occasionally, she managed to coax out a small half-grin, but nothing consistent. Nothing permanent. Well, that changed today.

Bernadetta pulled the sheathed dagger out of her pocket and felt a swell of pride. Felix would love this. It was pretty (though, he wasn’t really one for pretty things), it was practical (well, maybe not practical practical, it was more of a decorative piece), and it was for a blade (not the sword he was partial to, but a dagger was still a weapon, right?).

The longer Bernadetta stared at her gift, the less confident she felt. This was a terrible idea. A stupid one. He was going to laugh.

Bernadetta picked up a rock, rolling it between her fingers as she considered that. Well, laughter was kinda a smile, right? Maybe not the one she intended, but close enough.

“Bernadetta?” Felix raised a brow as he stepped out of the training grounds, a towel hanging around his neck. He rubbed the sweat on his forehead as he approached her. “Are you going to practice that move of yours?”

“That move?” Bernadetta frowned, her brow knitting until she realized what he meant. Immediately, she stepped back and shook her head furiously. “I can’t control that! I can’t even repeat it! If I could do something that easily, I wouldn’t have to be terrified.”

“Alright, alright, I got it.” Felix rolled his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, that.” Bernadetta gripped her sheath tightly. Should she give it? Goddess, this was humiliating. What if she’d guessed so wrong he actually stopped talking to her? “I…”

“Is that a sheath?” It was too late. He spotted the gift before she could muster the courage.

Hanging her head, she held the dagger out. “Yeah, it’s for you.”

He didn’t say anything for a long bit, his expression neutral as he turned it over. After pulling the dagger free from the sheath, Felix ran a finger along the edge before sheathing and pocketing it. Okay.”

“Okay?” Bernadetta blinked when he didn’t react further. Where was her smile? Hell, he hadn’t even frowned! Was it possible to hate something so much he couldn’t show his feelings? “You hated it didn’t you? I knew I should have gotten you something different, now you’re going to hate me and—”

“It’s fine.” Felix interrupted, tapping on her other hand. “I’ll take the rock too.”

She glanced down at the rock. It was an ordinary, black stone, something she hadn’t even thought twice about before picking up. “You want this too?”

“It’s a good slate.” His lips tugged up slightly as Felix took the rock, rolling it between his fingers with an approving hum. “Good to sharpen the dagger I’ll put in the sheathe.”

It was a smile, but the smile was for her rock. Bernadetta stared at his back, not sure if she should feel triumphant or pathetic.

Saturday:

“Hey, Bernie!”

Bernadetta yelped at the knock on her door, despite expecting and preparing for it. She cowered in her chair, taking a deep breath as she tried to calm down. “Y-yes? Please don’t kill me.”

Opening the door, Sylvain poked his head inside with a puzzled grin. “Why would I kill you, Bernie?” He laughed, stepping in. “I mean, first of all, I wouldn’t be able to read your amazing story.”

“Is that the only reason you keep me alive?” Bernadetta wailed, unable to believe her ears.

Sylvain laughed again, his eyes crinkling just so as he shook his head. “I was just teasing. We’re friends, right? Why would I kill a friend?”

Bernadetta shrank into her seat. He was worse than she’d thought. Society was only barely restraining him. “You’d kill me if we weren’t friends?”

“You slay me, Bernie. We go through this every week, and you still ask that?” He rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t drop. Casually, Sylvain ambled up next to her, peeking at her desk. Noticing a thick stack of paper, he eagerly picked it up. “Is this the next chapter?”

She resisted the urge to grab the bundle and toss it out a window. It was fine. It was fine. This was the reason he was here, the thing she had readied herself for all week. Her chapter was reaching its audience of one. “Y-yes.”

“Ohhhh.” Excited, Sylvain plopped on her bed and read the chapter title. “Escaping the chasm—oh, so she finally finds a way out?”

“Yes…” Bernadetta shifted anxiously in her seat as he started to read. Goddess, this was embarrassing. Even if he genuinely wanted to read her book—he’d been coming back once a month for the chapters, so she had to reluctantly admit Sylvain was telling the truth—there was no way he’d keep liking it. Her latest chapter might disappoint him. He might get bored.

A dozen more thoughts ran through her head and she jumped off her seat. “On second thought, read it outside.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed his arm, yanking him off her bed and through her door.  He didn’t fight, just sighing as he stepped outside. “Alright, alright, I get it. But, hey, I managed to make it through seven pages this time!” Sylvain glanced over his shoulder, winking. “One day, you’re not going to kick me out. In fact, you’ll be pulling me in.”

Face red, Bernadetta squeaked, “Is that a threat?”

Sunday

Bernadetta had been in many strange situations since she’d joined the academy—her teacher was a goddess, their world was at war, she had friends—but none of those negated the oddness of sitting in a small, cramped room across from the bulky giant Raphael. It didn’t help that his fat fingers were trying to stitch a small doll. Or, well, his attempt at a doll.

“Hey, Bernie.” Raphael looked up suddenly, his eyes crinkling as he smiled as bright as the sun.

“W-What?” Bernadetta started; it was automatic at this point. Even though she knew by now he was a gentle giant, more of a moose than a bear, the sight of him still made her heart beat as fast as a rabbit. Besides, she’d read somewhere that even the nice, kind deer ate birds.

If she couldn’t trust a herbivore, why would she trust Raphael?

Well, aside from the fact that they were allies in war, and he had saved her life a few times, and they were kinda friends and—

“Thanks!” His voice cut through her thoughts. Raphael held up the blob he had been patiently stitching for the past hour. “My sister’s gonna love this.”

“She is?” She squinted at the ragdoll in his hands. At least, she assumed it was a ragdoll—Bernadetta wasn’t sure if Raphael was just really bad with needlework, or if he was purposely trying to create some sort of tentacle monster. Maybe his sister had weird tastes. “What is it?”

“A princess!” Raphael’s grin grew broader as he held up his creation proudly.

“IT IS?” Bernadetta didn’t know if there was a definition of princess that somehow matched the multi-coloured jelly-fish like creature in his hands. People used to call her creations cursed, but clearly they’d never seen anything like this. There were no eyes, not even button ones, on the doll yet, but she could feel it staring at her.

“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” Raphael didn’t mind her shouts. “You’re a great teacher.”

Bernadetta flushed and ducked her head, embarrassed. She’d never helped someone before, not like this, not with her entirely useless hobby. And he was calling her a great teacher? Even though every one of their sessions started with her hiding in the corner? With the way Raphael acted, she couldn’t tell if he had been hurt by her reactions or didn’t mind, but there was no way she deserved any of this praise.

“It was nothing,” she mumbled, pleased despite it all.

“Definitely not nothing.” Raphael sat straighter as a thought hit him. “I know! I’ll make you a doll too!”

Her jaw dropped. Maybe he really had been hurt when she flinched away. That was the only reason he was going to curse her with one of those monsters. “I won’t be able to sleep then!”

Monday

“Knock, knock!” Alois called out as he rapped on her dorm door.

Bernadetta yelped, body tense as she almost dived under her bed. But it was only Alois—funny, sweet Alois at her door—and she relaxed automatically as she let him in. “Oh, it’s you.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to go!” Alois guffawed as he entered and slapped her on the back. “You’re supposed to go, ‘Who’s there?’!”

Bernadetta giggled. There really was something comforting about his goofy jokes and silly expression. Her uncle had been exactly the same when he’d been alive. It was probably the reason her parents never liked him. “Who’s there?”

Grinning, he replied, “Candice!”

Bernadetta raised a brow. “Candice who?”

“Candice open the door, or am I stuck out here?” Alois laughed at his own joke. After a moment, he glanced at the door and deflated slightly. “Though, I guess it doesn’t really work if I’m already in the room now, does it?”

“No, it really doesn’t.” She shook her head, though she smiled all the same.

“Well, anyways, I’m heading to town and wondered if you wanted to come?” As usual, he recovered from his own mishaps quick enough. Alois was as resilient as a dandelion. She wished she had half of his strength. “You’re cooped up in here enough as it is. I thought you could use a breath of fresh air.”

“Of course!” If there was one person whose company she’d never reject, it was his. It was fun going out with him. Maybe she’d do it more often if others were—

Bernadetta paused at the thought. Going out more often?

Actually, now that she thought about it, she’d been going out a lot lately. Almost every day in fact. She glanced at her room. When was the last time she’d actually just stayed inside all day?

“Bernie?” Alois raised a brow. “If you don’t want to—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” She hooked her arm through his and nodded. “Let’s go out.”

Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, actually, to go outside.

Even if today was sunny.

[fictionplumis]

Here's a fun little idea that's bound to rife with conflict and hijinks, one which I was not planning on writing this much on but I did. If anyone wants to write an actual Steddy Hands thing about this, fucking go for it my dude, but here's my rambling.

A modern AU, maybe a college thing, where Ed and Izzy are roommates, nothing more. But they've known each other for so long they might as well be married, y'know? Ed isn't a very touchy guy, but he's comfortable enough with Izzy to toss himself over Izzy's lap and annoy the shit out of him, and Izzy does the bare minimum of fussing because it's Ed and Ed can do whatever the hell he wants in Izzy's eyes. Izzy does Ed's taxes and makes sure the registration of his motorcycle is updated every year. He knows all of Ed's obscure passwords and makes sure the bills are paid on time. Ed knows Izzy's usual order from every takeout place in a twelve mile radius and then some and goes to most of Izzy's fencing competitions and listens to him rant about his day. 

Izzy is obviously in love, in love, right? Yeah. Everyone knows that. Except Izzy has no idea how to function in that state and truthfully, he's pretty content with things. Does he have sad, rough wanks whenever Edward isn't home? Oh yeah. Does he have sad, rough wanks whenever Edward is home? Of course. Would he be happier and better adjusted if Ed fucked him on the living room floor twice a day? --Why am I even bothering answering these, we know the answer is yes. But even without that, he has Ed, so it's like, fine or whatever. 

And Ed loves Izzy. That's his little shithead. His comfort problematic dickhead. He finds Izzy's dry wit and sarcasm amusing, enjoys mildly inconveniencing him to see him scowl, and just in the most basic forms, loves Izzy. 

Why aren't they a couple then? 

Because, like, they're dumb. Obviously. 

Izzy is an angsty little shit that doesn't think Edward is interested in him like that and is desperate to keep things exactly as they are so he doesn't risk losing Ed. Ed is just content and chill to keep things how they are and doesn't think Izzy is interested in him that way. He's just a sexually repressed little dude in general and Ed isn't going to take advantage of that, not to his best friend, so while he absolutely notices how often Izzy stares at his lips when they get into a heated spat over something, it doesn't mean anything. 

(It absolutely means something.)

Enter Stede Bonnet, the funky dude that shows up one day at one of Jack's parties, IDK. He's all dressed up and just really excited to be a part of the action, guys! Now usually Ed has taken to spending these parties scrolling on his phone, laying on the couch with his head in Izzy's lap because getting wasted and puking over the balcony of Jack's dorm has gotten old. But then he sees this blond angel in a salmon colored blazer and slacks and is like, "Izzy, holy shit," and the next five hours of Izzy's life consists of sitting there between the two of them, nursing a rum and coke that isn't strong enough while those two prattle on about their lives. 

They hit it off instantly. Izzy isn't jealous at first. It's just his usual amount of malice and whenever it rubs Stede the wrong way, Ed just waves it off because that's Izzy, mate, he's always like that. Stede is wary but accepting. Izzy is bored and assumes Edward's infatuation will eventually wear off and things will go back to normal.

For a little bit there's this awkward space where sometimes just Stede and Ed hang out, or a mash of their two friend groups, but it's often the three of them, and Izzy is pretty much just there, off to the side, not really interested in participating, and Edward is mostly focused on Stede, which isn't too much of a problem because he's seen Ed get like that before. They'll fuck or something, and then Edward will lose interest, no biggie.

Now from Stede's perspective, these two are a thing. Which is a shame, because he's really become very attached to Ed, and for a couple they don't really have great communication skills. Izzy always seems jealous and annoyed that his boyfriend is paying so much attention to someone else, and Ed never seems to notice. Usually in a situation like that, Stede might try to draw Izzy into the conversation, or draw Ed's attention to Izzy but-- 

But Izzy's kind of a bitch. 

So really, it's Izzy's own fault that Ed wants to pay attention to someone who isn't a bitch. Like let your boyfriend have friends, Izzy, damn. Ed's at least making an effort to make sure Izzy is around, watching movies with them, dragging him out places and such. Surely a good boyfriend would try to engage. So that's on Izzy. 

But then during a movie night a week and a half in or something, Ed kisses him. In front of Izzy. And Stede's brain kind of short-circuits, meanwhile Izzy hardly bats an eye. He'd been kind of assuming Stede and Edward had been macking on each other anyway, just not around him, and when Stede gets all flustered and it looks like Edward is interested in taking things a bit further, Izzy just stands himself up, says, "Yeah, you two have fun, I'm out," and heads for his room because fucking finally. Now Edward can get this out of his system and things can go back to being normal.

Stede's whole concept of things suddenly shifts. 

Clearly, Stede is now in a throuple. 

Which he's down with! It's just... Even if this is more of a Stede/Ed and Ed/Izzy dynamic, he really should learn more about his partner's partner, right? It's polite. So while Izzy spends the next week warily eyeing Stede and Ed, waiting for the attraction to wear off, Stede is spending his alone time with Ed asking about Izzy, and spending their time as the three of them trying to get to know Izzy.

It's... Not easy. Because Izzy suddenly seems more bristly now that Stede is officially part of the dynamic, more resentful that Edward is spending so much time with the new guy, and Stede gets it! Ed doesn't mean to, he's sure, it's clear whenever Ed talks about Izzy that there's a lot of love there and he's used to Izzy's eccentricities and doesn't have a problem with Izzy's standoffish attitude--and the way Ed talks about Izzy, he's someone Stede could easily come to like himself! Stede has no problem with a bit of attitude directed his way, just... Maybe a bit less purposely biting? And maybe not constantly. He'd like to have actual conversations with Izzy, like Ed does, and some comfortable but companionable silences, a bit of dry yet playful bantering and such. Surely Ed really doesn't mean to spend more of his time with Stede than Izzy, it's just that Ed is pretty easily distracted and these two really aren't the best at communication. 

Now, did Stede ever ask if Ed and Izzy were a thing? No. Did he ask if he  was now involved in a throuple? Also no. Did he ask if Izzy was okay with Stede being involved with Edward? Yeah, actually. He asked Ed first, specifically, "Are you sure Izzy is okay with this?" to which Ed was like, "Pssh, yeah, 'course, why wouldn't he be?" and then he later asked Izzy, "Hey, are you actually okay with... This?" and Izzy gave him a nasty look and said, "I don't fucking care what Edward gets up to." You know, like a liar. And Stede just assumed they knew exactly what he meant.

All this to say that Stede is equally fucking terrible with communication.

However! Stede assumes he's great at it and clearly these two need some help, so he decides he's going to help them become better for each other, and maybe that would make Izzy less unbearable to be around. 

So Stede starts kindly suggesting that maybe Edward make some more time to spend with Izzy one on one, so as to not make him feel left out. He doesn't understand Ed's initial confusion, nor he does he see the resulting fight when Edward confronts Izzy to ask if he said anything bitchy to Stede, because dude, stay the fuck out of my relationship, you've been acting like a dick to him from the beginning. And Izzy says some shit because he's angry and jealous and then he storms out and spends the next three days sleeping on Jackie's couch. 

Stede feels awful, because Ed is all upset about what Izzy said, and while no, it wasn't fair, and Stede is pretty upset about it too, it is kind of his fault. He admits that Izzy didn't say anything to him, he just thought Izzy seemed a little... Jilted. And Stede doesn't want to get in between them like that. It wouldn't hurt to make more of an effort to show Izzy he was cared about, would it? 

And Ed's like, "Well... No. Guess it wouldn't. Guess I haven't really been good at that, just took it for granted that he knew."

They brainstorm some ideas, like having more nights where it's just Ed and Izzy, maybe have a nice dinner in, try to cook for him or order something a little nicer. Make it a weekly thing. And Ed mentions Izzy's competitions and goes to look up when the next one is only to see in it's a couple days and Izzy didn't mention that. He always mentions that. Why didn't he mention that? Shit, fuck, had he really been neglecting Izzy so much that Izzy didn't even think it was worth mentioning his competition? It's a big one, too. Now Ed's all sad again and Stede is like, "This is okay, it's fixable. You know about it now, you can show up and surprise him!" 

So Stede helps Ed make a big sparkly sign that says GIVE 'EM HELL, IZZY! Ed's shown up to most of Izzy's competitions for support, cheers him on, but he's never made a big deal of it like this. The sign is huge, florescent, embarrassing as hell in a way that Ed loves and knew Izzy secretly didn't mind. Stede declines to come, because it really should be about them. 

Stede is so happy he's able to help Ed find ways of being a better boyfriend. 

Ed's so lucky that Stede is willing to help him be a better friend. 

Izzy is... Embarrassed. And flattered. And he's so distracted by Ed showing up with his big sparkly sign that he gets second place when he deserved first but fuck it, it doesn't even matter. 

Ed explains that it was Stede's idea, and that Stede helped him make the sign, and that he's going to try to be a better friend and be there for Izzy more. And that he thinks Izzy should talk about his feelings more, and Ed plans on doing the same, because it's good for them! He cares and he doesn't want Izzy to feel like they never have time to themselves, and this is all Stede's suggestion, he really knows what he's doing, Iz, and he doesn't want our friendship to be strained because of him.

Which Izzy finds so fucking stupid and suspicious and clearly this is Bonnet's way of making himself look better and make Izzy look like the irrational asshole. Or he's just pitying Izzy, and that's just as bad. 

So despite all of Stede's good intentions and Edward's willingness to make time and be more considerate of Izzy's feelings, things do not get better. 

Then we have Lucius!

Now Lucius and Pete are an official thing, but they're open. Pete's not interested in anyone else, but he's supportive of Lucius and when Lucius starts up a somewhat consistent thing with Fang, they talk it out to make sure it's okay, and then they let Fang know that they've talked it out and it's cool. And Fang's talked about it with his platonic partner Ivan to make sure it's okay, and yeah, everyone's cool all around. 

Lucius has been hearing about Stede's relationship off and on in dreary sighs and he's occasionally offered bits of advice that's been mostly ignored and really, he just doesn't want to get involved, because he's met Ed, and Ed is kind of intimidating honestly, and it's just like, absolutely not his business. 

But then he's over at Fang and Ivan's to work on an art assignment when Izzy slams his way in making a fuss over something, and Lucius hears Stede's name a couple times mixed up with curses and shit, and Izzy is an absolute dick to him, and a dick to Fang and Ivan, and when it becomes clear they're too busy to indulge in his bullshit, Izzy goes stomping away muttering about useless fucking shitheads too busy drawing dicks to be of any help. Lucius is like, "What the fuck was that all about?" 

And Ivan rolls his eyes and is like, "Izzy's been going through some shit with his best friend dating this guy..." 

So now Lucius has two wildly inconsistent and dubiously accurate descriptions on what the fuck is going on with Stede. In his brief interaction with Izzy, Lucius has determined that this is a man who's only orgasms come from sad, furtive wanks in his room and it's probably been that way for YEARS now, like Izzy Hands is so sexually frustrated and repressed it's not even funny except for the fact it's actually HILARIOUS, and he's so glad that he never really go involved in this mess, because it means he can get involved now and wreck Izzy's entire life in a way that's very much needed for him. Gonna get that fucker laid.

Lucius becomes an agent of pure chaos on a mission. 

So the next time Stede looks all dour and is sighing a lot, Lucius is like, "Okay, lay it all out for me, what's going on Stede? I want to help." 

And Stede, like... Sort of, vaguely lays it out with the most recent problem and Lucius nods sagely and goes, "You know, maybe you're going about this the wrong way. Maybe instead of trying to keep your life with Ed and Ed's life with Izzy separate, you should be trying to bridge the gap between you and Izzy." And Stede makes a face and Lucius is like, "No, no, hear me out for a second. You said things were a little tense but mostly fine when the three of you were casually hanging out, right? And then it got a little tenser once you and Ed starting spending more time together. It's even worse now that you're giving Ed more time to spend with him away from you. Maybe he doesn't feel left out from Ed, maybe he feels left out from you and Ed. Some people aren't meant to have a boyfriend who has a boyfriend. Some people are meant to have two boyfriends." 

Which makes perfect sense to Stede for some reason. 

So he brings it up to Ed, that maybe they should all three hang out more, like they used to. 

And Ed is like... Tired. 

Because Izzy has been so fucking frustrating, and he doesn't know what the fuck is going on with him anymore, and he's not really sure this is a good idea because Izzy had straight up become hostile and unhinged at this point. Little do they know it's only because Izzy is so fucking confused as to what Stede's GAME is. There has to be a game, right? This has to be some kind of trick. Pity. SOMETHING. And he hates it, he hates not knowing what Stede's intention is, and hates that his suspicions are only making Ed pull away more because Ed doesn't see that something is fucking wrong here, he doesn't see that Stede is probably a conniving little shit that's plotting something and thinks he's so much better than Izzy, but Izzy sees it, he SEES IT DAMMIT.

At least with the three of them hanging out more, maybe Ed will start catching on. 

Stede puts himself in the middle this time, between the two of them. Tries to reach out more Izzy, rope him into the conversation, tries to be friendlier. Is met with nothing but suspicion, confusion, and reluctance because for the life of him, Izzy can't figure out this NEW game. More pity, probably. He doesn't like it. He'd rather it be Ed, but Ed is usually silent and sullen and uncomfortable on the other side of Stede, because he lowkey hates listening to Stede try only for Izzy to continue to be a dick.

A few uncomfortably tense hangouts later, and Stede, in a desperate attempt to bridge the gap, realizes he has spent the entire movie night holding Edward's hand, so he reaches out to take Izzy's too. 

He feels Izzy go completely rigid and chances a glance over at him to see him staring back in absolute bewilderment. Stede gives him a soft smile, equal parts reassuring and imploring, and rubs his thumb over the back of Izzy's hand. 

And all hell breaks loose. 

Izzy's on his feet yelling at Stede. Then Ed is on his feet yelling at Izzy. And Stede isn't even sure what either of them are saying with how they're yelling over each other but he wedges his way between them, tells them to stop, and Ed stops, but Izzy is still livid, still yelling, only this time Stede can hear something about not wanting your fucking pity so he just. Does the stupid thing. And shuts Izzy up with a kiss. 

And it works! 

Izzy is thoroughly shut the fuck up enough that Stede can now go, "I don't pity you, you stupid, stubborn man! I just want us all to get along, for Ed's sake if nothing else! He deserve that, doesn't he?" 

Izzy just stares at him in some mix of horror and shock. So Stede hesitantly glances to Edward to silently ask if this was a normal thing, only to see Edward looking just as bewildered as Izzy had looked over the whole hand holding thing, and Stede realizes, well shit, he might have just crossed a line. Because he knew Izzy was more... Conservative when it comes to PDA. After all, Stede had never see Ed and Izzy so much as kiss in public. They're liberal with touches, or WERE anyway, but even hand holding never happened. 

And he's just like, shit, I crossed a line, didn't I?

Izzy is still processing. Edward is like, "Uh... Maybe? Dunno. I should say yeah. Most people would say yeah. I always thought it would be a line of mine. If you would have asked me where my line was, I would have said yeah man, right the fuck here. Definitely a line. Like. Seeing my boyfriend kiss my best friend should probably be a fucking line but it's not? It's not. Nope. Actually. Pretty chill with that. Maybe not chill, chill probably isn't the right word, I'm not chill right now, but I think if it happened a lot more often I could be chill with it. No, but right now I'm just... Wow, Stede, you really just fucking did that, just went in there and-- Damn. That was kind of hot." 

And Stede is relieved and flattered and like, "Well, I mean... I just thought-- Wait. Wait, hang on. Friend?" 

And Ed's like. "Uh. What?" 

"Friend. You called Izzy your friend." 

And by that point Izzy's brain has started to work again, vaguely, and he mutters a hoarse, "Best friend, he said best friend." 

And Stede is just. Confused at first. And then he thinks about it, about all of it, and the mortification starts seeping in until he wails, "I thought we were both dating Ed!" And when they look confused he flails around a bit and goes, "I thought the three of us were in a relationship! I thought you and Ed were together but open, and then Ed started dating me, and-- and--!" 

Ed catches on first and starts laughing. Izzy catches on and shoves Stede, not hard but Stede lets himself fall back onto the couch as Izzy starts chewing him out for being an idiot and what the fuck made you think something like that, you imbecile!

And Stede's only defense is, "You two acted like a couple who had been together a long time!" 

And Ed's like, "Yeah, 'cause we've been friends forever! But Iz doesn't feel that way about me."

And Izzy's like, "Don't fucking put words in my mouth, you're an imbecile too!" 

Which of course leads to them actually sitting down to have a frank and serious conversation about what the past few months have all been about, and about Ed and Izzy's relationship before that. There's apologies made, heartfelt from Ed and reluctant from Izzy. And when the conversation peters out and Ed mutters, "Okay, so... What now?" Stede looks between the two of them. Ed, with a pinch of guilt in his brows. Izzy, looking away, shoulders set miserably but his jaw clenched in expectation of a blow, and Stede just says, "Why don't we start over? Try this from the top, but this time do it the way I thought we were in the first place. The three of us. I think, now that we all know what's going on... I think maybe we can figure it out this time around."

(Spoiler: They do.)

[hwaitham]

Hi Coco! How have you been, my dear? It’s been far too long; entirely my fault, btw, but sometimes it’s nice to take a step back and take a breather. I’ve been good, a bit tired, but I’ve been baking a lot, which is fun. I learned how to make coffee cake, and I’ve almost perfected pound cake, a fact I’m pretty proud of. I’ve also been catching up on my reading list, which has been nice. Anyway, Tumblr hates me specifically, it would seem, because it tells me I have inbox notifications yet when I click on it it says I have no messages sigh love a fully functioning website

Nevertheless, I’m v excited about Al Haitham’s birthday celebration. As his bday weekend bestie, I’ll be sure to swing by and bring a few books (nonfiction ones, too!) and share my well wishes. I hope you’ve been well and that the universe is being gentle and kind to you. I know we’re both winter lovers, but there’s a beauty to spring, too, and I’m excited for all the flowers to bloom again. But enough prattling, love ya and hope you’ve had a great week <3

my precious pixie ohhh ! ! pwz do not fret — t's my fault too .. i hv been quite awful at reaching out to fwiends this past while , so for that i am vewy vewy sorries .. ( ྀི ˊ͈  ᵔ  ˋ͈ ) but even though we dont talk so often , i hope u kno i think about u with the utmost tenderness rather frequently ♡ especially when i make hot cocoa ( adding a scoop of coffee ice cweam to it is an absolute must ) or whenever a song by lamp starts 2 play ♪ u take up so much space in my heart ! ! !

im glad 2 hear u've been well ( albeit tired .. i feel that winter n more specifically the monf of january tends to do that to many of us T T ) n that u've been baking oooo ! ! all these yummy cakes ... i must giv them a try too hehe ! u saying u hv been catching up on ur reading list makes mi feel guilty for completely ignoring mine waaah ... all i seem to hv time for these days is lab -> coursework -> cello -> sleep ... my books gaze at mi longingly frm under all the dustbunnies that hv been collecting on them ehe .. ^^; i show them the love they deserve eventually .

the birthdays of two of my most beloved aquariuses ( aquarii ? aquarians ?? 0 w 0 ) draw nearer n nearer .. it is almost the days ! ! ! will you be doing anything to celebrate ? cutting a cake maybe ?? what flavour ? hehe , u'll save coco a slice , won't you ? ♡

[bibbykins]

Sneak-Peek of the Moonlight Reign rewrite

Hello all! I am here to deliver a fun little tidbit of the very first series I published on here but way, way, rewritten. I wrote the first chapter of Moonlight Reign not long before I turned 17, if I remember correctly, and I love the concept a lot but... not so much my execution so I, of course, changed it up a bit.

It is going to be my brand of kinda soft yandere and an ot7 x reader fic! The MC is going to be a school nurse with more or less the same background but 18 when she left and is now currently in her early to mid twenties. Jungkook will still have been a friend so here is a fun snipped into their friendship before shit hits the fan! Ask any and all questions you may have ofc and rest assured, I am still working on THB and have a lil snippet to give for that soon!

“You really shouldn’t leave your door open like that, you know.” He tsked like he always did.

You shrugged as you helped him unpack the food, “We’re the only ones on the top floor.” You reminded him, “it would be quite silly of a criminal to come all the way up to the 20th floor.” You chided.

“Still.” He tried to argue but quickly gave up. Jungkook knew by now that you could take care of yourself, but sometimes you wished you’d let him do it for you more often. However, he let this potential argument go, this time. He looked around and narrowed his gaze at the TV, “Why do you still have the news on?” 

You paused and looked up from your food as it prattled on about your family, “I guess I forgot,” You forced your casual tone, “Did you get-”

“Syndicates, huh…?” He echoed the news reporter’s words, eyes fixated on the screen with a curious look, “The news is so weird with this stuff.”

The chopsticks in your hand stilled. You wanted to say that the syndicates were even weirder since they were the ones that probably signed off on the script. As a little girl, that was the first thing you had learned: how to play chess outside on a park bench, how to play chess crushing people in your hands as you moved them. The world was just a series of moving parts to build your machine. It had all been the same to you for far too long. 

“Like I care, it’s just background noise.” A lie, you hated lying, but it was something you had to get used to doing for the sake of your safety.

“You aren't scared of these guys at all?” Jungkook looked at you like you were crazy, although his eyes didn't match the rest of his face's intensity.

Shaking off the weird notion, you rolled your eyes, “A world without you buying me dinner is pretty spooky but that,” You gestured to the TV, “Is a cheap haunted house in comparison to the hell of making dinner or worse, ordering it myself, on a Friday night.” You giggled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Is that all I am to you? A sugar daddy?” He asked in mock offense and you nearly spit out your drink.

You swallowed roughly before glaring at him as he laughed, “If you’re my sugar daddy, I need a new one.” You retorted and his laugh died while a childish pout settled on his face, “I mean, all I get is a measly dinner once a week and I still have to work and pay my bills?” 

“Well, what do I get, huh?” He crossed his arms, and it made you chuckle. Laughter had never come easy to you growing up, and it still had a hard time coming to you but after years by Jungkook’s side it was easier than ever to do, “Where’s my sugar?” He thrusted his cheek toward you, tapping on it with his index finger.

You rolled your eyes in spite of the flutter in the pit of your stomach and pushed his face away with your index finger, “My presence is your sugar, dummy.” You teased and how easy it was to be human around him made you smile wider, “Plus I let you watch your silly little shirtless men.” 

He clicked his tongue, “First of all, if you’re going to call them shirtless men, at least call them hot because look at him.” He pressed a button on your remote and his favorite fighter, Park Jimin filled the screen, “Second of all, it’s literally fewer syllables to just say MMA fights.”

You took a bite of your food and shrugged, “Don’t you have, like, a million boyfriends? Wouldn’t you make them jealous drooling all over Jimin?” You challenged, vaguely remembering Jungkook saying he had more than three boyfriends at some point. Not that it was surprising, most people had at least two significant others. Unless they were you, of course. You had no one to talk to but the man sitting in front of you, forget about a significant other. “He would make me pretty damn insecure.” You chuckled.

Jungkook scrunched his brows at you, “Six.” He corrected, mirth filling his eyes already.

You looked from the TV to him, “Hm?” You tilted your head to the side.

“I have six boyfriends, thank you very much.” He stated matter-of-factly, and you rolled your eyes at his tone, “Why? Are you trying to give me seven significant others?” He feigned a scandalous gasp, “Well, the relationship is open, you know, so I guess I could pencil you in–” You cut him off by shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth with a glare. The teasing made your chest seize for a split moment when faced with his teasing smirk, so this had been the best way to shut him up. 

---

Aren't they cute? Pain: incoming

Happy holidays, my dears! Thank you for remaining so patient, I hope this tickles some fancies and if you're an OG fan who read Moonlight Reign when I first released it, omg thank you for sticking around!

[tiredassmage]

falling asleep on the other’s shoulder for whatever pairing you’re feeling

Still sitting on a few of these, I promise! The end of the semester is just kickin' my butt. xD

Time to release some Dash x Leo content into the wild, methinks. 👀

[touch prompts]

x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Departures for Coruscant are currently operating on a three standard hours delay. We apologize for any inconvenience. Please see the nearest departures assistant for further details.”

Leo groaned as he shifted in the narrow, hard bench seat beside him, propping a shoulder into the unforgiving seatback. “I’m gonna have that engraved in my skull by the time we get out of here,” he grumbled.

Dash frowned, gaze drifting over the roving crowds of dock workers, merchants, and soldiers idling through the spaceport. “I’m going to shoot the next droid that tries to apologize,” he mumbled.

Leo craned his neck to eye his companion. “Don’ start that,” he said. “Your little security friends already loused me once for lookin’ at ‘em funny. We’ll be here even longer then.”

Dash rolled his eyes and sighed as he leaned back. “Suppose you’re right.” Sometimes it was a real shame they had to go through official Republic channels constantly for deployments. This all wouldn’t be a problem if they could just haul jets. “How’s your ship? I’m thinking we should’ve just taken it.”

“Better still be where I docked,” he said. “That Rodian bastard looked shiftier than a loanshark.”

“Why’d we take the shuttles again?”

“‘Cause you’re on leave and I am allergic to Republic Customs, remember?” Leo shrugged one shoulder. “Fuck, they prattle more than the bloody theater junkies back ‘ome, y’know?”

Dash rolled his eyes fondly with a puffed breath of amusement. “Alright, alright, I get it. Still, what’s the point of being friends with a starship captain if I can’t get a few free rides, huh?”

Leo stuck his tongue out. “My knight in shining armor gonna protect me when your fellow hounds start sniffin’ ‘round tryna steal my whiskey, then?” His eyes narrowed with the beginnings of a smirk, as if he was about to win whatever ‘argument’ he was playing at.

Dash shook his head, eyes making for the list of departures on a screen across the room - covered in far too much orange and red for delays for his taste. But it beat acknowledging the way a bit of warmth rose to his cheeks.

Leo knew he’d do a hell of a lot for him. But it was never a favor that went unpaid.

The smuggler puffed out a chuckle behind him. Smug bastard. Guess it took one to know one.

“You alright, man?” Dash asked rather than spin wheels any further, fixing him in a pointed stare. “You’re the one that looks like you’ve been steamed over by a Corellian tram.”

Leo waved a hand with another grunt. “‘M fine,” he muttered as he rubbed at his left eye - easier to not scrape the cybernetics that crossed the scarring on the right side of his face that way.

His eyes were a deeper blue than most horizons he’d seen.

“Take it easy, why don’t you?” he suggested. He tugged on the other’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he coaxed when he groaned stubbornly. “Look, it’s not like we’re goin’ anywhere fast and I’m not listening to you gripe later when you can’t sleep on the shuttle because it’s too crowded.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you would,” he muttered as he relented, scooting back to prop against Dash’s shoulder and kicking a leg out across the remaining seats.

They both ignored a few disgruntled looks from some passerby.

“Yeah,” Dash sighed as his arm settled around his shoulders, “I wouldn’t have much of a choice though, would I?”

A smile slipped across his lips even as his eyes closed. “Suppose so.” Dash’s shoulder was exponentially more comfortable without all of that stupid Republic armor on. Guess it kept him alive though.

And he was a helluva lot better alive than anything else.

Dash wasn’t waiting long before Leo was out cold. A smile flickered faintly across his lips as he shook his head. Idly, he tucked a stray lock of bangs back behind his ear. Idiot had a terrible semblance of a sleep schedule at the best of times, let alone when he decided to move gravity itself to put himself in the same sector when Dash got leave from service.

That was just the kind of shit you did for your best friends though, right?

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Title of Your Sex Tape

Chapter Three: Lie Still, Close Your Eyes

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight

All my work is 18+.

A/N: realized I forgot to post this here. Oops. Here ya go

Take it home, take it off, ‘cause I can’t take anymore; it’s your touch, it’s your taste, it’s your dress on the floor. Take it home, take it off, ‘cause I’ve been waiting all night for you and this is what I’m gonna do. Ice, ice, mealy your heart; baby girl, let down your guard. Rush, rush, for that touch; just one taste, can’t get enough.- The White Tie Affair, Take It Home

Tim texted her all weekend. At first, she wondered why he was texting her. She figured maybe he was contacting her about a work thing, though she had no clue what that might be.

As it turned out, it was not at all a work thing. He never mentioned work once. He really had wanted to know more about her schooling. He told her about his family, that his father was French, like from France levels of French, that he’d spent summers there with his grandparents as a kid. His sister was an aspiring actress, and he wanted to be one, too, but had some difficulty getting into more than just commercials. She wondered if he was any good.

By the time Tuesday rolled around, Lea knew tons about him. She knew his middle name (Hal) and she knew his birthday (December 27th). She even knew where he’d gone to high school.

He’d opened up to her so quickly, so easily, as if the story of his life was written on the pages of a book sitting in front of her, just waiting to be read. She found herself confiding in him, too; she told him about her mother and sisters, that her father had abused her mother and was no longer around. At one point, he’d ask her outright if that was why she’d never kissed anyone before, and she confirmed his guess despite her embarrassment.

Still, despite knowing him quite well by the time they next saw one another, she was terribly nervous about seeing Tim again.

When he came to pick her up and she slid into the passenger side of his car, he was beaming at her, looking her up and down.

“Hi!” he exclaimed happily. “You look adorable.”

Lea blinked up at him. “Oh, um.” She gulped anxiously. “Thanks.”

He drove off, prattling away about something or other. When they arrived, he opened the car door for her and offered her his hand. She took it, stepping out onto the pavement.

Tim was grinning down at her like she the mere sight of her was the best thing he’d seen in his entire life, and he didn’t let go of her hand as they walked through the doors.

He’d shot for so long that it was early one evening several weeks later by the time he was driving her home, and he walked her to her apartment building, the bustling New Yorkers swerving around them.

Lea turned back to face him, her cheeks pink from the memory of the orgasm he’d given her earlier that day as they’d kissed hungrily. “Well,” she said awkwardly, “thanks for the ride home. I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem,” he told her with a smile, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. She gave him a little wave and turned towards the door of her building to go inside, but he stopped her. “Lea?”

Turning back towards him, unsure of what the tone in his voice meant— if it meant anything at all, for that matter. “Yeah?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, like he was anxious.

What on earth could a man like that have to be anxious about?

“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” The words came out rushed, flowing from his lips like a waterfall of syllables, and it took her a few seconds to decipher them.

Once she had, however, her eyes widened until she rather resembled an owl. “W— what?” Lea squeaked.

Tim brushed his hair from his eyes, shooting her a small smile. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” he repeated, a bit slower this time.

“I…” She couldn’t seem to formulate words. Or maybe they just refused to come out. She wasn’t sure. Either way, it took a few loud thuds of her heart before she was able to force any sound from vocal chords. “Wouldn’t, uh. Wouldn’t that be like… a conflict of interest or something?”

He laughed quietly, taking a step closer. “No, of course not. Just me thanking a beautiful girl for helping me do my job.” After a moment of him staring down at her, he added, “I honestly don’t know how I ever managed without you.”

She swallowed. “Glad I’m able to help, then.”

She considered his request as he looked down at her expectantly. Would she get in trouble? She knew she couldn’t, like… date him or anything, of course not. He had sex with other women, and regardless of the reason he was doing it, how was she supposed to deal with something like that? But he’d said it was just to thank her for helping him and she did enjoy his company.

What could be the harm?

“Yeah, okay,” she finally conceded. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“Positive.” He seemed so damn happy about her agreeing that she honestly didn’t know how to react. He was… disarmingly attractive.

It was distracting.

He took her out the following night after she got out of class.

She did her makeup and dressed in a fairly nice dress, but not so nice she thought she might be seen as trying too hard.

Okay, so maybe she liked him a little bit. Big deal. It’s not like anything would ever come of it, anyway. He’d never made a move on her outside of work, and that was most definitely for the best on account of the whole… pornstar thing.

He was sweet and courteous and, as she understood it, a perfect gentleman.

On Thursday, Lea found herself being tugged by the hand into his dressing room, and she was immediately pinned against the door with his lips on hers and his hands squeezing her hips.

She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back. Tim hiked up the skirt of her dress and slotted his knee between her legs, rubbing against her panties insistently.

She was panting by the time he moved on to her neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin there as she arched into him. “Touch me,” she begged.

“Fuck.” The word was a groan against her throat, his teeth grazing her flesh, and he reached up with one hand to squeeze her breast. “So big,” he murmured. “What I wouldn’t give to see them. Suck on them.”

She leaned further into his touch, and he squeezed a bit harder. “You want to see…?”

“I’ve never wanted to see a woman naked so badly in my life,” he informed her bluntly, pulling back from her slightly.

Lea gulped.

Okay, so looking up at him now, she realized two things. First, that her feelings towards him were most definitely of the romantic sort. Second, she trusted him enough to see her naked. This was odd, as they were friends and nothing more—outside of work, of course—, but she actually kind of wanted him to, which was a bizarre realization in and of itself.

“I can… I can show you,” she told him hesitantly. His eyes widened, and she continued. “If… if you’d like to see, I can show you.”

“You don’t have to,” he assured her hurriedly.

“I know,” she said with a small, hesitant smile. “I don’t mind. I trust you.”

He smirked at her, then took her by the hand and walked backwards towards the couch before plopping down on it.

She was wearing a casual, flowy green dress that ended just above her knees, and he gripped the edge of the material lightly, watching her flushed face intently. “Why don’t you strip for me?”

“W— what?” she squeaked.

Tim’s hand traveled up beneath her dress, just past the hem. Not too high, but just enough to make her core clench. “Stra-rip,” he enunciated slowly.

She watched the way his mouth moved with each syllable; he was mesmerizing. Then, slowly, ever since slowly, she lifted her dress up over her head and dropped it next to him on the couch. She was wearing bright pink panties—with her hair being red, she never got to wear pink where people could see it, and she quite liked pink—, and her bra was a soft cream color with a little bow in the middle.

Bras in Lea’s size were always rather uninspired.

“God,” Tim groaned, yanking his shirt off. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly, fidgeting with a curl that had fallen loose from behind her ear. He was pulling his pants off, his boxers following shortly after, and Lea flushed when she saw how hard he was.

He pumped himself with one hand and trailed a hand up her bare thigh with another. “Do you still want me to see you? Are you okay with that?”

Nodding, she nibbled on her lip before reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra. She slid the straps from her shoulders and, without looking at him, let the garment fall to the floor. She watched it do so and then continued to stare at it as she bent over to pull her panties down.

When she stood back up, he stared at her for a moment before reaching out to touch her again, his hands lightly brushing against her outer thighs, then sliding up to her waist. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, rough. “Can I…”

Lea nodded jerkily, finding herself unable to speak just then.

His hands—so large, so warm, so soft—moved to cup her breasts gently, his thumbs swiping over her pebbling nipples, and she inhaled sharply.

“You like that?” Tim asked quietly, the words hesitant, almost. When she nodded wordlessly, he squeezed a bit harder. “You’re so beautiful. God, your tits… they’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

She laughed shakily. “I seriously doubt that, given your choice in career.”

He shook his head, squeezing again and pinching each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her whimper. “No,” he breathed. “No one else’s have ever been attached to you, Lea.”

She gasped, arching into his touch.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Can I suck on them? Please? I want them in my mouth.”

“Y— yeah,” she agreed.

He grabbed her by the hips and yanked her closer, latching onto one of her breasts immediately and beginning to suckle.

It felt incredible. She hadn’t been expecting it to feel quite so good, actually. Lea threw her head back, clutching his hair with a low moan. He growled against her skin, taking her nipple gently between his teeth. She gasped, pressing his face further into her breast. He reached around to grip her ass with both hands, squeezing it eagerly.

“So fuckin’ hot,” he muttered as he switched to the other breast.

“Tim,” she whimpered, “that feels—“

“You like it?”

She nodded shakily, her chest heaving.

Suddenly, he pulled back from her, gripping her arms and looking into her eyes intently. “Lea,” he began firmly. She blinked down at him in response, in somewhat of a daze. “Can I… can I eat you out?”

Her mouth fell open. “You… you wanna do that?” She swallowed anxiously.

Tim nodded vigorously. “I really, really want to. We don’t have to, of course, but…” He glanced down at the apex of her thighs. Most of what his eyes were searching for was concealed, she knew, but he could see some of her. When he spoke again, his voice was a little choked-sounding. “But god do I want to.”

She swallowed again—or tried to, anyway; her throat was too dry for her to manage it—before nodding. “Okay. If… if you want to.”

“Don’t feel like you have to,” he insisted firmly, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. “You can say no or tell me to stop or slow down, anything you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with is okay.”

“No, I…” Lea let out a slow, shaky exhale. “I trust you,” she said again. “And… I want you to.”

He groaned, pulling her down so she’d replaced his spot on the couch, and then he spread her legs and knelt between them.

Tim kissed her inner thigh softly, his gaze hot on hers. “You’re sure you want this?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He smirked. “Good.” With that, he nipped her thigh, chuckling softly at her little gasp of surprise before trailing more kisses closer and closer to where she really wanted him.

Was she shaking? She might’ve been shaking. One of his hands left her leg to reach up and squeeze her breast, rolling her nipple between his long, nimble fingers.

Lea whimpered, arching into his touch. He was so close to where she needed him. She was clenching repeatedly on her own emptiness, and she thought she’d die if he didn’t give her what she needed.

Then, his fingertips finally—finally—brushed against her wetness, and he hummed low in his throat with interest.

“Fuck,” Tim murmured, “you’re soaked. You really want this, huh?”

Too embarrassed to confirm this verbally, she clenched her eyes shut and nodded once.

“No, no,” he told her placatingly, moving the hand on her breast up to cup her cheek. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Lea squinted her eyes open hesitantly to find Tim smiling softly up at her, like he was trying to reassure her. “I like that I made you this wet. It’s sexy.”

She gulped. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He nipped her inner thigh again, and she chewed the inside of her lip.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, Lea,” he promised.

The way Tim was looking at her was heated, but it was also a question— he was asking for a final stamp of approval from her before continuing. She nodded once, and that was all he needed.

The hand on her cheek migrated back to squeeze her breast and tweak her nipple, and he dove in. Lea yelped when she felt soft, gentle licks along her slit, just barely brushing over her clit. Still, his eyes watched her face closely, reading her expressions and paying attention to each reaction he elicited from her.

“Can I put my fingers inside you?” he breathed, the heat of his exhalation on her wet, flushed skin making her shudder.

“Yes.”

The first finger slid in easily, and he curled it within her before pulling it out again and thrusting two fingers back into her this time.

She gasped, lifting her pelvis to meet his touch. “Fuck, you’re…” He inhaled sharply. “You’re really tight.”

Should she thank him? Was it a compliment? What—

Tim nipped her inner thigh again, and she yelped. “Stop overthinking,” he chided gently, looking up at her with dark eyes. “Don’t think. Just feel.” She nodded back at him unblinkingly, and he grinned. “I’m gonna lick you now, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed, focusing on the way he was moving his fingers inside her and not on what he was about to do and how self-conscious it made her.

With that, he brushed his tongue against her clit in a feather-light touch, and Lea jolted. It was strange— warm and wet and altogether foreign. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

He licked her again, just as light as before, but more slowly this time. He thrust his fingers in and out of her, curling them each time, never taking his eyes off her face, not even for a second. Swirling the tip of his tongue around her clit, he reached up with his free hand to squeeze her breast and tweak her nipple.

Lea whimpered, arching her back and throwing her right arm across her eyes. He licked a bit faster, and she moaned low in her throat, reaching down with her left hand to hold him against her without even really thinking about it. He chuckled softly, and the vibrations made her clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Feel good?” he wanted to know, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She nodded jerkily, her eyes clenched shut beneath her arm. “Good.”

With that, he resumed licking her, his tongue moving faster now, making her breath come in short, gasping pants. The hand she had in his hair clenched, and he must’ve known she was getting close.

Tim seemed to know her body better than she did, which made sense as he’d been the one to give her her first-ever orgasm just a few weeks ago, but she wasn’t able to think about that. As it happened, she wasn’t able to think about anything at all. Her mind had been filled with fog, and she couldn’t formulate a single thought.

He took her clit between his lips and sucked on it gently, curling his fingers inside her again, and she exploded with a gasp of his name.

Lea panted, her arms collapsing at her sides. The room was still spinning when he pulled his fingers out of her and sat up, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sat on the couch next to her.

“So,” Tim began, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him, “how’d you like it?”

She stared dazedly at the wall across from the couch. “That was…”

Words. Words were hard. How could she even describe that experience?

“…Amazing,” she finally decided.

“Good.”

Lea was about to open her mouth to say something—she wasn’t entirely sure what—, but there were several swift raps from the other side of the door that cut off her thought before it had entirely formed.

“We’re ready for you,” came the voice of a production assistant.

“‘Kay,” he called through the door.

Wait, she thought in a bit of a panic, I didn’t touch him, what if he’s not hard—

But then he stood, and she saw that he was, in fact, very hard.

“Here,” he told her quietly, handing her her clothes and waiting patiently as she dressed. “I’ll see you after, okay?”

Lea nodded, watching as he strolled from the room with that casual confidence she was quickly growing to adore, and tried to push down the jealousy brewing in her stomach at the knowledge of what he was about to go do.

Tag list: Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @vampire-reanimator

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