#these are about a year old now but I love them so much and I haven't posted them together anywhere

[neil-gaiman]

I apologize in advance, but I have been listening to the Good Omens audio book with my daughter. She enjoys it quite a bit, but of course she has questions and I do my best to answer them as objectively as I can.

She was having a hard time understanding why everything in the Bentley turned into Queen even if Crowley did not seem to even like listening to Queen. I eventually compared the Bentley playing Queen to the radio nowadays constantly playing Taylor Swift. I tried to explain that it was joke about Queen being overplayed and how if the book had been written today the Bentley may have very well been playing Taylor Swift much to Crowley’s chagrin.

I failed to understand how insulting to a 7 year old it is to even entertain Taylor Swift being a joke and Crowley being anything less than personally responsible for the Eras Tour.

(In her mind) The Bentley clearly has access to the radio so they HAVE to know Taylor Swift exists. How could Queen songs ever be good enough that the Bentley wouldn’t just immediately drop them for Bad Blood and Wildest Dreams?

While the mental image of the Bentley and Crowley chasing Taylor around the world with the rest of swifties is hilarious, the discussion of Queen vs Taylor Swift has reached a point where I can no longer remain objective or sane. I told her I would try asking someone who might actually know the answers to her inquiries.

So kind sir, do you happen to know how the Bentley-and I supposed by extension, Crowley- feel about Taylor Swift, her music, and her recent siege of the music industry?

(She’s also asked if Crowley ever took the Bentley to drive in theaters so they could see movies too.)

I very much hope the Bentley in the book would love Taylor Swift as much as it once loved Queen. Alas, there are no drive in movie theaters in the UK -- or if there are now, there weren't when the book was written. But if there were I'm sure he would have done.

[cutieleclerc]

Matchmaker | LN4

lando norris x fem!reader, background lestappen

summary: you try getting involved in max and charles' love lives, and it turns out they're also trying to get involved in yours

At the age of 21 years old, you joined McLaren after becoming a champion in all the junior categories. This made you the first woman in modern F1, and the first woman in several decades. And if people thought that Lando had a lot of energy, they had not met you yet.

Now that your rookie season was halfway done with, you've learned two important things. 1) Lando was very easy to get along with and 2) Max and Charles were certainly in love. 

There were a couple times when you had been on the podium with them, and of course you loved being on the podium, but having to third wheel that pair would drive anyone insane. 

So, when you got back from the summer break, you decided to make it your mission to get them together. Step 1 was telling Lando about your plans.

"Landooo!" you called out as you saw him walking in the paddock up ahead, running to catch up with him. 

"Hey, Y/n/n," he greeted you with a handshake. 

"I have a plan," you said devilishly. 

"Shit, that can never be good."

"Hey! Hear me out. So, Charles and Max, you know?"

"Who? I've never heard of those people in my life," he said sarcastically. 

"Ooookay, I could do without the attitude, thanks. Anyways, I'm sure you've noticed how in love with each other they are. Like hello? They literally scream 'enemies to lovers' trope. You know what I mean? I just need to find a way to get them to confess their undying love for each other." 

Lando's eyes widened and he looked around, making sure that no one was listening before pulling you to the side.

"Oh—jeez, so, you in?"

"The entire grid has been trying to get them together for years, you think that you'll be able to do it?"

"Yeah, obviously, but I'll need a sidekick that's why I'm telling you, so...?" 

He sighed. "Alright, tell me your ideas."

"Yes!"

"But I'm not your sidekick, we're partners in crime, okay?"

"Sure, sure. Anyways, step 1 of 'el plan' is to just subtly start mentioning Max or Charles when in conversation with the other. Get them in each others brains, you know? Like 'Oh Max was saying how he hopes for rain.'

Then, step 2, we start mentioning things that they've said about each other. 'Hey Max, Charles was saying how he always loves his on track battles with you the most,' stuff like that. Then we have to start interrogating them about their love life so they can hopefully admit their feelings. That's all I got so far."

Lando nodded, deep in thought. "Okay, this could work, this could work."

~~~~~~~~~~

Charles won in Monza, with Max and yourself completing the podium. While you were getting your interview done, the two of them seemed to be locked in their "debrief".

"Am I the only one who's noticed all the chemistry between her and Lando?" Max asked.

"You're definitely not the only one, mate. Being in a press conference with those two is unbearable."

"Ugh, yes, like just kiss already. I'm glad I'm not going crazy. We need to do something about it, get them to confess their feelings."

"I agree," Charles replied, staring into Max's eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Later, they were in the press conference room, waiting for it to start, and Max and Charles were chatting away.

Y/n: MATE

Y/n: HELP

Y/n: I CAN'T TAKE THIS THIRD WHEELING

Landhoe: you can't complain you got a podium

Y/n: i actually can complain, i've suffered too much

Landhoe: you like seeing them together, don't lie. 

You grinned at that, then glanced up from your phone to see Max and Charles looking at you. 

"Who you texting?" Max asked.

"Just Lando," you shrugged, confused as Charles and Max gave each other a look.

"You guys seem to be getting along well, no?" Charles asked. 

"Uh yeah, I guess. It helps that we're both pretty similar."

"Yes, yes, very similar," Max nodded, and you raised your eyebrow, side-eyeing them. 

"Anyway, you guys have anyone special in your life, yet?" you asked.

The smirk on Max's face faltered as he glanced at Charles for a millisecond before looking back to her. 

"No, not yet, mate."

"Me neither," Charles added. 

You hummed. "Hm, okay."

~~~~~~~~~~

In Suzuka, Lando and you were talking while walking towards the driver's parade. 

"So I'm going to talk to Charles and you're going to talk to Max, sounds good?"

"Yup, I know the plan," Lando confirmed. 

"Great, we'll debrief after the race."

You spotted Charles and quickly ran up next to him before someone else could start a conversation with him. 

"Hey, Charlie! Congrats on your podium in Singapore!"

"Thanks, mate."

"Man, it's crazy how fast the season flew by, it seems like just yesterday I was a scared little rookie rolling up in Bahrain. Anyway, I was hoping to get your advice on something," you said, trying not to bring up the topic too suddenly. 

"Yeah, of course, go ahead."

"Okay, well, let's say hypothetically in a situation where you like someone, but you're not sure if they like you back, and you don't want to say anything because it could ruin your friendship and it would be awkward because you have to see them for the majority of the year, what would you do?" you asked, trying to gauge his feelings about potentially confessing his feelings. 

Charles glanced somewhere behind you, and you didn't want to look but you would've bet a million bucks that it was at Max.

"Well, if you're feeling like that person even just maybe likes you back, I say go for it. You wouldn't want to waste precious time that you could be spending together because you were too scared."

"So you're saying that if you like someone, you should just go for it?" you confirmed. 

"Yeah."

"Interesting..." you rubbed your chin, then turned to look at Max behind you. 

Meanwhile, Lando and Max were deep in conversation. 

"What would you think if two of the drivers started dating? Cause some of these people have some real chemistry," Lando asked, trying to seem nonchalant. 

Max shrugged. "I mean, yeah, some of us have known each other since our childhoods. I wouldn't be surprised if some crushes have developed. It's not my business, but I don't mind. It would be interesting, though."

"What about Charles and Pierre?" Lando egged on, waiting for a reaction. 

He watched in satisfaction as Max's eyes turned a shade darker and his jaw clenched. "Nah, I don't see it. But you and Y/n seem to be getting awfully close."

Lando couldn't help the blush that painted his cheeks. He tried to say something but was at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. Max started snickering.

"We're just friends," he finally stuttered out.

"Alright, if you say so."

Lando sighed, turning away in disappointment. That did not go according to plan. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Max won the race, and because the McLaren was good in the high speed corners, Lando finished 2nd and yourself 3rd. 

You and Lando hugged as soon as you got out of your cars.

"Wohoooo! Let's go!" you cheered as you both ran to the fence of McLaren workers. 

You got done with the interview and was the first one in the cooldown room. You had put your helmet down on the platform and was drinking your water. You heard the others entering and turned around, bumping into Lando. 

"Oh, shit!" you exclaimed as you dropped your water bottle. 

You both bent down to grab it, causing your hands to touch and both of you to pause. Lando then grabbed you bottle and you both stood up, staring into each others' eyes for a couple seconds before you snapped out of it and moved to grab your water bottle. 

"Thanks," you said quietly. 

Lando was still looking at you, before quickly saying, "You're welcome."

You noticed Max watching you and the camera on you, so you cleared your throat and moved around Lando to sit on one of the chairs. 

"That was a good overtake, in the beginning," you commented to Max, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. 

Before the conference, Max was quick to get on his phone.

Max: Holy shit, I have so much to tell you about Lando and Y/n

Max: You should come to my hotel room tonight

Max: I think we're in the same hotel

Charles: I have stuff to tell you too. What time?

Max: Does after dinner, 9:00 work? 

Charles: That's perfect

Max: Great, my room is 1633

Charles: See you then ;)

And for some reason Max felt like a giddy schoolgirl at the thought of Charles coming to his hotel room.

You and Lando kept stealing glances at each other whenever the other wasn't looking, and it was so frustrating.

Later, when it was just around 9:00, Max waited (im)patiently for Charles to knock on his door, and he jumped when he finally heard the noise, getting up to let him in. Charles walked in nervously. 

"We can sit on the couch," Max commented, and Charles quickly situated himself on one end, and Max on the other. 

"Ok, you go first," Max urged. 

"Well Y/n came up to me during the driver's parade and she was talking about 'hypothetically' liking something but not doing anything about it because it could ruin their friendship. So of course I told her she should just go for it, and then she looked at Lando."

"Oh my God. Lando came up to me during the driver's parade and asked what I would think if two drivers started dating each other, and I said something about how close him and Y/n were, and he blushed. And then in the cool down room, they bumped into each other which made Y/n drop her water bottle, and when they both reached down to pick it up they touched hands. Then they just stared at each other for like 5 fucking seconds."

"Jesus, what is going on with them."

"I know right, like holy fuck just make out already! I'm sick of their pining."

Max shifted on the couch, causing his foot to touch Charles' leg. 

"Anyway, want to watch a movie?" Max asked, and Charles nodded eagerly. 

And that's how they ended up in the pitch dark, a bowl of microwaved popcorn in between them, some racing movie on the television. 

They both reached for the popcorn at the same time, causing their hands to touch, and both of them snapped their heads to look at each other. 

They stared at each other, eyes flickering down to each other's lips...until the sound of Max's phone ringing caused them both to jump apart. 

"Jesus!" Max exclaimed, quickly silencing his phone, and they reluctantly turned back to the movie, moment ruined. 

~~~~~~~~~~

A couple weeks passed until they were in Qatar. Max and Charles hadn't spoken to each other, and there was minimal communication between you and Lando. 

Max would be starting the race on pole, then Lando, you, and Charles. 

As the race went on, it seemed like that would be the finishing order, until halfway through Max started having braking issues. Lando caught up, overtaking Max for the lead, and you did the same a few laps later. 

The rest of the race, Max had adapted to the issue but still had slow pace because of it, which left him defending against Charles. 

The race ended in that order, Lando taking his first win.

"YEAHHH!!! LET'S FUCKING GO BABY! WOOHOOOOOO!!!" Lando cheered. 

They parked up in front of the podium boards. Lando opened his visor, got out of his car and stood on it, holding up his pointer finger and pumped his fist in celebration, fireworks going off in the background in the dark sky. 

You quickly got out of your car and removed your helmet, going straight to Lando. 

"You did it! You fucking did it! I'm so proud of you!" you told him as you pulled him in for a hug. 

He stared at you for a second when you let go, then immediately removed his helmet, putting a hand on your waist, pulling you closer and connecting your lips together. 

You were stunned for a second, before placing your hand on his cheek and deepening the kiss. Everything around you guys went still, like only the two of you existed. You eventually pulled away and could hear the booming of fireworks, the cheers from the crowd, and the whistles from the McLaren team a few feet away. You both blushed as you came to your senses. 

"I really fucking like you," Lando breathed out, slightly winded from the kiss. 

"I would hope so, after that," you teased, before pulling him in for another kiss. 

Max stood by his team, watching the pair from a far, his jaw dropped. 

"Fucking finally," Max sighed. 

But then he glanced behind him and spotted Charles walking to the FIA garage to get weighed, and an irresistible urge overcame him.

He followed Charles into the garage and grabbed his arm, dragging him behind one of the curtains.

"Did you see that! They finally—"

Charles was cut off as Max crashed their lips together.

"I think I've been wanting to do that for a long time," Max admitted when they pulled away. 

"I've been wanting to do that since I pushed you off the track in karting," Charles smiled, and Max smiled back, kissing him again.

—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—

a/n: i never intended to publish this anywhere but here i am. i literally never write written romance like this so this is really cringe and i cringed while writing it but enjoy ig. if you have any suggestions though please tell me!!

[suguann]

SAY YOU'RE MINE—GOJO SATORU.

✎.You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. | wc. 1.4k+

tags. fem!reader, age-gap, very shy reader, exhibitionism, reader wears glasses, a/b/o, 18+ only

masterlist

The big, awful truth nobody tells you about hosting your fortieth birthday is how the shine of the day wears off once you see your friends and acquaintances laughing with their loved ones, talking about their kids, showing off pictures of newborns swaddled in soft linens, and making plans for upcoming holidays. 

Gojo sips his drink, pretending to understand. He’s never given much thought to settling down, to take an omega as a mate and fill his big empty house with the sounds of pealing laughter and little feet racing down the many halls.

Forty years old, and he’s ready to admit that living the life of a bachelor doesn’t hold the same appeal as it once did. That returning from a two-week-long business trip might be better if there were somebody to go home to.

Forty years old.

Instead of cozying up in the living room with a family he longs to have, he’s going to spend the rest of his night picking up plates and champagne flutes after everyone leaves because he forgot to hire a cleaning company—all alone in his big empty house, wondering if his secretary remembered to pick up his dry-cleaning for the week.

An unmated Alpha—the reminder chafes as much as the fact he’s getting older.

He finally understands why his late aunt divorced and got married again twice in the same year, why people buy nice vacation homes on white sandy beaches that make the crow’s feet around their eyes worse, and spend too much money on sports cars even though they stay parked for three-fourths of the year. He gets it now.

It’s more or less an epiphany of a sad, pathetic truth that he swallows down with something cold and bitter.

In the middle of his backyard, standing between his neighbor and his pregnant wife, Gojo wishes he were anywhere else. Inviting everyone he knows within driving distance no longer seems like the well-thought idea he’d presumed it’d been.

He makes a few more rounds around the garden before sneaking inside, escaping another conversation about engagements and wedding dates to hide away in his study.

That’s until he sees you out of the corner of his eye, looking through the bookcases in his living room.

A pretty slip of a girl in your modest cocktail dress and wide-framed glasses slipping down the slope of your nose. An Omega, alone, just like him; your clean, sweet, floral scent sticking to the back of his throat like syrup until it settles in his stomach. Enough to make him dizzy.

You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. Not that it really matters because his back straightens, no longer wallowing in self-pity, and he studies you with interest.

After a few moments, you finally glance his way, only for you to hastily return your attention to the book you pulled down from the shelf. Cute.

Gojo adjusts the tie around his neck and feels his lips twitch.

“Sorry,” you say softly, long lashes fluttering against the top of your cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I was only—My friend invited me, and she—”

You are too busy working yourself up over an explanation that you don’t notice when he sidles up next to you and reads over your shoulder. "I have more in my office if you want to take a look.”

“E-excuse me?” You make this breathy, choked sound and peer up at him from under your lashes. This visibly timid type of girl who bashfully looks away at the sight of his smile. For some reason, that makes his mouth go dry—makes his teeth ache. 

It’s rare to be so driven by instinct and rarer to actually listen to that instinct.

“Books,” he says. “Do you want to see them?”

His words take a second to sink in, and he smiles when he sees liquid clarity in your eyes. You blink owlishly, scent spiking, pleased. He stands there patiently, finding how you start rambling endearing, a slight, private grin splitting across his face—silently amused.

He thinks you'd bolt if it weren’t for the fact that he’s probably standing much too close, trapping a mouse by the tail.

“I–I g-guess,” you finally stutter.

It’s too easy: You letting him usher you up the stairs toward his office. 

If Gojo were a better person, a less lonely Alpha—a better man—he might feel bad for how well it works.

It’s no small thing to work the tiny zipper at your back and watch your dress pool around your feet. He barely gets the top three buttons of his shirt undone before you are—delightfully, inexplicably—up on the tips of your toes, timidly pushing your hands through his hair, mewling into the hollow of his throat, close to where his gland sits.

By the time he has you pressed against his office window, you’re this flustered little mess with crooked glasses, fingers streaking the once pristine glass to keep your balance, and breasts sticky and wet with spit.

“Good girl,” he mutters, pulling back to look down at where he’s splitting you open. “Such a good little Omega for me, aren’t you?”

You don’t answer, and he crowds you closer to the window, grasping your chin and tugging your head up until you’re looking at him upside down. He squeezes your cheeks together, your pouty, supple lips pushed out, and kisses your mouth, tasting you—unimaginably sweet.

“Tell me—tell me what a good girl you are,” even though he knows you can’t with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but you try anyway.

“U-uh but—people c-can see.” 

The base of his cock tingles as he catches a line of drool spilling from the corner of your lips. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, soothing, and you steadily melt against him when he slips that same finger underneath the elastic of your underwear, lightly nudging your clit with the tip of his finger until you’re shivering beautifully again.

“That’s it. Don’t worry about them,” he coaxes lightly, but it comes out muffled because he says it with his mouth wrapped around the gland at the base of your neck, teasing himself with something he’s never allowed himself to have. Not yet. “Just you and me, okay?”

Gojo doesn’t let up until your back arches and shoulders tighten, his knot caught inside your cunt until all he can do is grind the tip of his cock against that spot that makes you squirm and whine. 

He smiles to himself when you hide behind your hands after realizing you ruined his pants, and he carefully falls back into his office chair, pulling you with him so you’re both looking out across the garden, where his guests walk around wholly unaware of the breathtaking little Omega who made his birthday worthwhile.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he muses, taking great pleasure in the way you start stuttering again.

On his forty-first birthday, he doesn’t throw his own party but still hides in his office, his pretty wife in his lap, flustered because he never turned the lights off this time. If anyone happened to walk by on this side of the house, they’d be able to see everything—his omega, soft and swollen from a piece of him taking root inside you.

Families are about making traditions, he thinks, and he’d like to start a few traditions of his own; leaving his party to fuck his wife in the quiet of his office being one of them.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader pt 2 pt 1

thank u guys for liking kliff!! he's so baby. felt kinda mean and thought about a scenario where reader is like, a regular monster fucker and poor kliff finds out he hooked up with another vampire and gets super jealous teehee... but this is wholesome tho.

content: reader is kind of a player, blowjob (reader receiving), reader loves tormenting the poor old man, more plot-focused than pure smut

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

after visiting kliff at his crumbling manor a few more times, you decided that you were getting tired of making the trip out into the woods everytime, and invited him over to your house instead, an invitation he eagerly accepted. though he kept a calm composure, inwardly, his thoughts were running wild - he would finally be able to bask in a whole home full of your scent.... maybe even steal a few small trinkets he could toy with whenever he felt lonely... or... or even get a feel of your bed, where he fantasised about waking up next to you and spending the rest of his days as your faithful househusband. oh, how delightful.

"thank you ever so much for allowing me to enter your abode. i am most honoured." thanking you profusely, he elegantly sat down on your sofa, only to immediately scrunch up his face in discomfort. you stared at him, puzzled. "what's wrong? you don't like my home?"

"no, no... it's not that... it's just that... this scent is so familiar. in an unnverving way..." he mumbled, talking to himself. suddenly, a look of recognition, mixed with horror, dawned on his face. "correct me if i'm wrong, but... there's not a chance you've had another vampire over.... is there?"

"oh! i forgot you vampires have a heightened sense of smell. yeah, i hooked up with another vampire like, 3 weeks ago." you said nonchantly, like it was the most insignificant thing ever. kliff merely gaped at you, aghast at your casualness. "so... so... i'm not your first vampire relationship?" he asked meekly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

"well, yes. i dated, hmm...." you start to list them on your fingers. "two vampires, one werewolf, one merman... oh, right, and one evil ass fairy. he was mean."

poor kliff looked like he was about to collapse, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. thankfully he was sitting down, otherwise he would have fallen over. "where on earth do you even find these creatures?"

"i get around."

"and you never thought to mention this?!"

"i mean, i didn't really think it was important..."

kliff sighed, suddenly feeling a little insecure at his complete lack of romantic experience in contrast to your many flings. "may i at least see what your past vampire suitors looked like?" he didn't want to admit it, but he was suddenly feeling very clingy, even more than usual. he had to be better than all your exes! so that you wouldn't leave him like you left them!

"sure. here you go." you pull out your phone and show him a picture, only for kliff to gasp loudly and clutch his chest even tighter. what a drama queen.

"HIM."

"you know him??"

"that little whore was going around sleeping with every man and woman in town a hundred years ago! i cannot BELIEVE he is still so promiscuous in this day and age. he even seduced you..."

"woah! language, kliff!"

kliff stops mid-ramble and clears his throat in embarassment. "my apologies. this is most uncouth of me. i do not know why i am getting so frustrated over this. the two of you are not seeing each other anymore, correct?"

"yes. you're the only one i'm seeing right now."

"and, if i may be so bold to inquire,,,, how was he like as a lover?"

"he was kinda annoying." kilff let a smirk escape his lips upon hearing this. "i knew it-" "the head was good though."

"what- what does 'head' mean?"

"he sucked my dick." you say bluntly.

"oh, good heavens."

"don't be a prude! wait... kliff, are you jealous of him?"

"i most certainly am not."

"at your big age? please be serious." you tease, amused at how possessive he suddenly got.

"do NOT make fun of me. i said i'm not." the pout adorning his face said otherwise.

kliff barely noticed it, but slowly he inched closer and closer to you, eyes scanning your neck as he frantically searched for bite marks.

"did he bite you anywhere? did it hurt? you must know, i would never even consider drinking from you, right?" he took your hand, eyes searching desperately for validation, any form of praise that indicated you thought he was the better vampire.

you rolled your eyes. "jeez, kliff. i didn't take you for the possessive type. don't worry, none of my previous vampire lovers have drunk from me."

that did little to reassure him, since he was on the same page. "then... then... i must be better at this 'head' thing!" he declares, face full of misplaced determination. you almost double over laughing.

"it's not a competition! my god, you're so unserious."

"it does not matter to me! i must be better than that lustful shame of a vampire at every aspect. especially since we are of the same species."

"okay, okay. calm down. i'll let you try."

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

"just let me know you can't breathe or whatever. i'll guide you through your first time, yeah?" kliff nods, a blush extremely prominent on his undead features as he knelt between your thighs. he quite enjoyed this... submissive position.

"also- watch the fangs." the authoritative, yet gentle tone of your voice sent shivers down his spine.

he himself could be considered a monster, but he paled in comparison to the monster that sprung out of your pants once he clumsily undid the zipper. kliff gasped, a look of pure lust and nervousness written all over his expression as your slightly erect cock hovered over his face.

"so... basically... you just put it inside your mouth, then start sucking it. easy enough, right? come on, don't tell me you've never heard of a blowjob in your entire existence."

"of course i have..... i admit, i own quite a bit of... erotic fiction." he mumbles, eyes still on your cock, cheeks growing redder by the second. "but, goodness, it's so different seeing a real phallus up close. especially one of your size."

"phallus??? just say cock."

"mhm...." he hesitates, unsure where to even begin. flustered, he looks up imploringly, silently begging for you to guide him.

you chuckle at his frozen state, completely at a loss on what to do. "so needy. i'll help you."

tenderly, you run a hand through his soft hair, applying just a little bit of power to tug his head forward, guiding him to your tip. obediently, he opened his mouth, taking the shaft inside. it was warm, his rough tongue grazing over your tip, causing you to grip his hair a little tighter. kliff let out a masochistic moan in response. slowly, he ventured further down your length, but unable to reach the base without gagging. he looked up at you with apologetic eyes, but you squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was doing well. "good job, kliff. you're a natural." spurred on by your praise, kliff found a lewd rhythm, mouth bobbing up and down in a continuous passionate attempt to make you feel good.

your small grunts of pleasure kept him going. panting, you ask, "you sure you've never done this before, kliff? you're so good." he frantically shakes his head, mouth still full of cock, as if the idea that he engaged in such intimate acts with anyone but you was horrifying. he was loyal like that. it was intoxicating, the head only vampires could provide - fangs lightly grazing your cock's sensitive areas, the slight thrill unmatched. merman head was sloppy, werewolf head was rough, but vampire head was a little dangerous. you liked that.

soon enough, you were about to cum. you warned him, patting his shoulder twice, he vigorously nodded, giving you permission to cum inside his mouth. he'd only ever been used to having blood in his mouth, so having your cum inside instead was a new experience. but he liked it. maybe a little too much, as he swallowed it so enthusiastically. you gazed upon him affectionately, finding his virgin excitement over such lewd matters endearing.

"how was i?" the breathless question hung in the air, a reminder of the atmosphere thick with your intertwined tension.

cupping his face with one hand, the other stroking his hair soothingly, you muttered the words he most wanted to hear. "you were better than him."

kliff jumps into your arms, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "thank you. you're the absolute best." he's so content to spend the rest of his days with you. treat him with care, yeah?

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

tags: @4eaever @szapizzapanda @flyingsquids @vampmasc

omg i'm so happy with this one, one of my fav writings i've ever done so far. i felt like i characterised kliff and captured their dynamic quite well here hehehe

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello. I read your bg3 marriage headcanons and was wondering if you could do a follow-up on what their first anniversary would be like? also add rolan, even though he wasn't in the original. only if you want to.

BG3 - 1st Anniversary Headcanons

[original ask in question X]

Gale

What does Gale ‘grand gestures are my love language’ Dekarios have planned for your first anniversary? Oh nothing special.

Just all your favorite meals cooked & ready for you. Starting with breakfast in bed. A small, light picnic at your favorite shoreline spot to watch the tides come in and enjoy the sea air. Ending with a romantic candlelight dinner that would put some of the finest Baldurian restaurants to shame.

He gives you a book of love poems as your present. Paper is traditional for the first anniversary after all. It is furthermore inscribed with his own, original poem on the front cover for you.

Astarion

He actually isn’t aware it’s your anniversary. Until he is reminded by someone. It’s not that it’s not important to him. Astarion has just never celebrated one before. How could he, when none of his previous lovers ever even stayed the whole night?

He has to work fast. But luckily Astarion is extremely clever and resourceful.

Playing it off like it was his plan all along to ‘pretend’ to forget, only for you to be further surprised is simply part of his plan. He plays it off so well that you believe him when he tells you that he got you a new necklace because ‘it reminded him of your eyes’. He makes a mental note to remember next year and be more genuine in his efforts.

A!Astarion

Of course, Astarion remembers the day you officially became his. Body, soul, and now legally.

Part of it may just be the celebration of having something that’s his. He hasn’t had anything for so long that he goes overboard. And with you, his most prized treasure, he can’t help it either.

The day, like all your days, is just about the two of you. He has a portrait commissioned for the two of you and commits to having one done every year, so you remember what you look like & how happy you are together. The old ones are kept in an archive below for safe keeping.

Wyll

He’s been looking forward to this day almost as much as getting married to you, the love of his life.

If he chose to stay in the Gate and become the new Grand Duke Ravengard, Wyll will host a ball so that you can celebrate with all those you hold dear. Old and new friends. He has the bard’s college compose a new song to commemorate the occasion, one that he can lead his partner out to the dance floor with and waltz them around all night.

If he went to Avernus to continue as the Blade, they will waltz together, alone, on the stoney rocks of the Hells. While Wyll hums a private tune between them to keep the music going.

Halsin

Halsin isn’t much for ceremonies or constructs of time. Nature and time move hand-in-hand with one another without making much note of their relationship, and he feels that they should do the same.

But…he can appreciate that something like this should be marked & remembered.

He will make time to get away from his duties as ‘Daddy Halsin’ to be a husband for a while; no matter how short it might be. He carves them a beautiful ornament. Something of a remembrance of their year to hang on a tree by their home. Halsin tells them that he hopes, one day, it will be filled with as many happy memories as leaves. The tree growing as with their love for years to come.

+Rolan

Who has time for such frivolities? Rolan has an acclaimed magic shop & literary archive to run, along with the magical commitments he has as the new caretaker of Ramazith's Tower. Surely, as his partner, they must understand that.

Lia gives him an extremely firm talking to about how selfish and narrow-minded he is being. That it’s not just about him anymore it’s about them.

Though Rolan will never admit that she’s right, he does make it up to his spouse. Apologizing to them for being so callous and making an effort to be more ‘traditionally romantic’. He presents them with a single white rose. Enchanted, so that it will never die, never wilt, and never fade. “It will always be as pure and radiant as my love for you. Should I forget to tell you every day, look upon it and remember. Though, I will try to remember to tell you everyday until my last ones.”

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫-𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐧✯

platonic!matt x reader

IN WHICH…Two best friends hold an annual tradition of wearing costumes in the summer, carving jack-o-melons, and eating all the candy their hearts desire...But what happens when they drift apart?

WARNINGS: no smut, angst, asshole!matt, that’s about it

Summer-ween, a fictional holiday from the animated Disney show Gravity Falls, that takes place on June 22nd.

Y/n and Matt fell in love with that specific episode so much, that they made it a reality. They begged their parents to make their costumes, they ran to the store and grabbed all the candy and watermelons they could carry, and they ran around the streets of Boston terrorizing their neighbors by asking for candy.

The neighbors quickly became use to it, always making sure to have some type of candy for the two come June 22nd.

However, only a few years later, the tradition stopped. It wasn’t by choice, it was by force.

The triplets' career took off causing them to move to LA, and leave Y/n alone. They still kept in touch with her, never being able to drop the girl they met in first grade.

Y/n was heartbroken her tradition with Matt wouldn’t continue, but she came up with a solution.

It wasn’t the same, but the two would sit on FaceTime and watch all the Halloween movies ranging from Twitches to Nightmare on Elm Street. It satisfied Y/n a little bit, but she missed dressing up, she missed carving the watermelons and sitting them outside.

She missed Matt.

So when Mary-Lou told her the boys would be coming back to Boston the week of Summer-Ween, Y/n was over the moon.

She quickly planned out costumes, thinking her and Matt could match this year. She ran to the store and grabbed the biggest watermelons and their favorite candy, She threw up all of the Halloween decorations and even put them outside.

She was ready to finally have her best friend back in her arms.

She couldn’t sleep the night before the triplets arrived back home, her jitters causing her to lay wide awake. As soon as the sun rose and she saw the time, she darted to the triplets' house. They were only a block away from her, so there was no need to take a car, so she sprinted.

It wasn’t long before she busted through the front door and ran into the kitchen where the family was eating breakfast. Seeing this would happen, Mary-Lou made sure to set an extra plate out for the girl she considers to be a daughter.

Y/n rushed forward and pulled Matt who had half of a pancake in his mouth into a tight hug.

“Matt! I missed you so much!”

“Jesus, can I eat my pancake first?” Despite the annoyance in his voice, he proceeds to wrap his arms around her, hugging her just as tight.

“Damn, where’s my hug?” Chris asks jokingly.

They finish eating breakfast before their parents head out and leave them be.

Y/n is quick to start talking about the plans she made and how she’s excited to finally celebrate with Matt again. The sparkle in her eye burned brighter at each word.

However Matt, didn’t seem to thrilled with the idea.

“Aren’t we too old to be celebrating still? I mean why dress up in costumes and carve watermelons?”

Y/n scrunches her face in bafflement, “Because it’s a tradition! We’ve always done it and we haven’t celebrated since you moved to LA.”

Matt rolls his eyes, “that’s not true, we have celebrated. You force me every year to sit on FaceTime and watch those dumb movies with you.”

Y/n frowns even more, pulling herself away from Matt, “I don’t force you…You said you liked watching the movies with me.” Her words are softer as the argument goes on. She doesn't understand why Matt is being so mean about this. They've always celebrated this way, what's different now?

Matt scoffs, “Do you really think I enjoy sitting on FaceTime for hours on end watching childish movies? I mean be serious Y/n we are all about to be 21 and you want to run around in costumes and beg neighbors for candy? I think it’s time you grow the fuck up.”

Y/n quickly becomes upset, “Why are you being mean?” She was beyond confused and a bit overwhelmed as Matt's irritation grew.

“Because it’s childish!”

“I just thought- Thought what? That I came back home to deal with your childish and annoying antics? No. We came back because we wanted to spend time with family, not you. You need to grow the fuck up! Life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows!”

Y/n feels her eyes begin to burn at Matt’s words, her throat feeling tight, almost suffocating her.

"I mean be serious, what do I look like acting like a child when I'm 20 years old and have a very big career. That would make me a laughingstock! Jesus Christ Y/n!"

Not being able to stand here and take the harsh criticism any longer, Y/n stands up.

“if you didn't want to do it you just had to say no, you didn't have to be an ass about it."

"I'm not being an ass- Yes you are! You're sitting up here calling me childish for wanting to spend time with you like how we use to! You move to LA and let all this fame get to your head, you changed! And it wasn't for the better!"

The girl grabs her things and storms out of the house with tears running down her face and a heavy heart.

Still not thinking clearly, Matt scoffs and looks to his brothers with crossed arms, "Can you believe her?"

"Can you believe You? Christ Matt, you were really an asshole just now!" Nick states as Matt's brows furrow in confusion.

"What are you talking about? I didn't say anything wrong!"

"Matt you sat up here and called her childish for wanting to spend time with you. Like she said, if you didn't want to do it all you had to do was say no and explain nicely why you didn't want to...You didn't have to throw being famous in her face, you make it seem like you're too good for her."

With that Chris and Nick leave the kitchen, leaving Matt alone with his thoughts.

As the days go on, Matt begins to feel bad.

Y/n was ignoring the boys, including Nate. They tried inviting her to their outings, but she never read their texts.

she wasn't even active on socials.

In the midst of all of this, Matt saw a few fans on tiktok talking about how the boys changed since they moved to LA. It hits him hard and he starts to believe it.

Is it really true? Did he change for the worse?

He throws his phone down and decides to turn on his TV. Oddly enough, Gravity Falls is on.

Matt feels his heart clench when he sees it's the Summer-ween episode. Seeing Mabel and Dipper argue because Dipper feels too childish dressing up makes Matt feel horrible.

Watching the siblings come together in the end has Matt jumping up from his bed. He rummages through his closet finding what he needs before grabbing his keys and rushing out of the house.

Y/n is lying on her couch, a solemn look on her face as she watches her favorite Halloween movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas. She would usually be watching with a big smile on her face and a bowl of chocolate-covered popcorn in her hands, but instead, she's lying down in pajamas and a Dr. Pepper in hand

Her doorbell rings and she ignores it, thinking it's the neighbors asking her to retrieve their football once again, but when it keeps ringing and the person begins to bang on the door, she finally gets up.

She swings the door open in irritation and is shocked at what she sees.

Matt stands in front of her sheepishly, dressed in a peanut butter costume that's a little bit too small, and his arms outstretched with a pillowcase.

"Trick or treat?" He says awkwardly.

"What are you doing?" Y/n asks softly.

Matt sighs and puts his arms down, " I'm trying to celebrate Summer-ween with you." Y/n crosses her arms and looks off to the side.

"Why? I thought it was too childish and you were too famous for that." Matt sighs sadly and takes a step into the house.

"I know what I said... And it was wrong. I shouldn't have treated you like that, I'm sorry. I just- you were right when you said I changed. I let fame get to my head and I felt like it would ruin my image if I celebrated with you."

Matt grabs her chin softly and makes her look at him, "But I'd rather have a ruined image than a ruined friendship. I care too much about you to lose you because I was being a dick head."

Y/n is quick to pull Matt into a hug, feeling happy that Matt is back in her arms. Matt smiles and returns the tight hug, happy that everything is ok.

Y/n pulls away and looks him up and down, cracking a smile. "You pulled out the old peanut butter costume?"

"Yup, and I have your strawberry jelly costume too!"

Y/n shakes her head, "Nope not doing that! That costume was ugly!"

"If I have to squeeze into this peanut butter costume and have my dick squeezed you have to wear the strawberry costume!"

Y/n laughs loudly before dragging him to her room, "Well I have better costumes!"

before he knows it, Matt is dressed as Dipper Pines and Y/n is dressed as Mabel.

The two ended up carving the watermelons, taking pictures, and even went to a few houses to retrieve candy.

The two are soon settled back in the living room of Y/n's home, changed into pajamas as they watch Halloween Town.

"Hey Y/n?" Matt asks softly. Y/n looks up at him from her place on the floor. "Can I ask why you want to keep celebrating Summer-ween?"

Y/n looks back down as Matt settles down on the floor next to her.

"I just...like you said you're more famous now...You live in LA and I never get to see you anymore. Celebrating with you in person or at least over the phone just reassures me that we're always going to be friends, or at least in each other's lives."

Matt can see the sad look in her eyes and he hates it. he hates seeing her sad, she wasn't supposed to be sad. She was always the happy-go-lucky one between the two and he plans on keeping it that way.

he pulls her into his side and plants a soft kiss to her forehead, his hand brushing down her boho braids.

"I'm always going to be in your life, always."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

liked by Y/n.luvs and more....

matthew.sturniolo: happy summer-ween from Dipper and Mabel Pines 🍉👩🏽‍🤝‍👨🏻

comments:

nicolassturniolo: Y/n is really the fourth triplet

⌊christophersturniolo: sturniolo triplets + Y/n! quadruplets does not hit the same!

Y/n.luvs: still mad you wouldn't post the peanut butter and jelly costumes 😔

⌊matthew.sturniolo: not happening sweetcheeks, keep dreamin'

⌊user2:SWEET CHEEKS?!?!

user1:i yearn for a friendship like this omg 😭

AHHHH I POSTED SOMETHING!!! IM BACK BUT NOT FULLY!!! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS!!!

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d

[mxstellatayte]

next door kind of love.

warnings: none, just some childhood best friends to lovers and tooth-rotting fluff. make your dentist's appointments now yall.

growing up living next door to the sargeants was an interesting experience. your parents were friends, having bonded when logan's parents moved in a few months after your own parents had. then, a few years later, they had dalton. just over a month after dalton's first birthday, you came along, and then eight months after you, on new year's eve, logan was born.

the three of you were inseparable as you grew up. you'd accompany them to their races and they'd support you at your roller derby tournaments. they would find a new way to climb the tree in your back yard and you would set a time record for climbing that route. the three of you had more inside jokes than you could count, made up more backyard games than anyone could ever begin to comprehend, and trusted each other beyond the ends of the earth.

when the sargeants moved to switzerland, though, you were crushed. sure, their plan was to only stay for two years, but those two years started to feel like an unbearable eternity after just the first month.

"mama," you said, a bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich in your mouth, "i miss logie and dalt. when are they coming back?"

"not for a long time, honey. i'm sure they'll come visit, though. how about we call them and see how they're doing?"

your face lit up. "yeah! can we call them now? can we can we can we?"

your mother smiled and shook her head, the papers surrounding her full of confusing numbers and big words like "homeowner's insurance" and "disability pension application."

"maybe, honey. we'll have to see what time works for them. first, though, i need you to finish your lunch, strawberries and all. can you do that for me?"

"sure, mama."

lo and behold, two years had passed, and the sargeants were almost back to florida. your father had the idea of surprising them at the airport, so you'd made a giant sign that said "WELCOME BACK SARGEANTS!" in bright blue magic marker. after selecting a spot you deemed visible enough, you craned your neck every time a new flow of passengers exited, hoping to see your best friends. every time you caught a flash of what might've been one of them, your heart skipped a beat, but when you finally saw dalton, logan, and their parents, it felt like you were on the moon.

you mustered up as much air into your thirteen-year-old lungs as you could and screamed.

"DALTON! LOGAN!"

every head in the airport whipped around to you, but you couldn't care less. your two best friends were running full speed at you, suitcases abandoned with their parents, and you couldn't stop smiling. you're slammed by the tightest hug you've ever experienced and you might be seeing stars from your ribs being crushed but that doesn't matter when you finally have dalton and logan back with you in florida.

you're muttering so many "i missed you"s and "i couldn't wait to see you guys"s and "i have so much to tell you"s into them, and it feels like forever before you guys let go of each other.

"you guys ready to get out of here?"

when logan won the karting championship in 2015, you'd never screamed louder. you were the first person he looked for after the race and the person he hugged the tightest.

when you made it to the top roller derby league in your area, he was the first person to congratulate you, and he brought you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers- baby breath, white tulips, and jasmine.

as logan worked his way up through the different levels of formula racing, you'd always manage to stay up to all hours of the night to watch him race or even send him a simple "good luck" text.

when he told you he'd been admitted to the williams driver academy, you almost tackled him to the ground with how much force you hugged him with. "i'm so happy for you," you said, repeated like a mantra.

"and guess what?"

"there's more?" you pulled back from the hug, looking up at him.

"i get to do a post-season test drive in abu dhabi."

"what?!" the smile on your face is not only from pride, but now also shock. "lo, are you serious? that's amazing! when did you find out?"

"maybe..." he checks his watch, eyes looking up. "five minutes ago?"

"wait. did you tell your parents? and dalt?" he hesitates, a blush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. you can't help but think, even for an instant, that it's... kind of cute?

"logan hunter sargeant, did you tell me before you told your parents?"

"i might have..." the scowl on your face deepens, and you pull away from him, remove the house slipper you're wearing, and whack him across the head with it.

"out of my house! go over to your own and tell your parents, your literal givers of life, that you're driving a fucking formula one car! out! out with you!" you wave him out of your front door and watch with a smile on your face as he runs back to his own home, laughing when he trips over himself and falls into the grass. a few minutes later, you hear dan and madelyn scream with joy.

"my best friend is going to drive a formula one car," you say to the wind. "holy shit."

a bit over a year later, when logan signs with williams to drive with them in 2023, he still tells you before his parents.

the tuesday after the austin grand prix, a new post on your private instagram account appears. its location is tagged as the circuit of the americas and the caption reads "one of the perks of your best friend being a formula 1 driver is getting to go to austin and get paddock passes for free. the other is getting to spend the weekend with your best friend."

in may of 2024, logan brings you to the miami grand prix. at the end of the race, you are the first person he looks for. you are the person he hugs the tightest. you are the person to tell him that it wasn't his fault that he crashed and he did everything he could. you are the person whose shoulder he cries into and the person who gently holds his face and wipes his tears away with your thumbs.

you are the person to stand on your tip toes to place a kiss to his lips, the salty taste of his tears reaching your own lips. you are the person he sees when he opens his eyes and, when you backpedal in the slightest bit, you are the person he pulls closer and kisses like he means it.

you are the only person that hears when he says that he's loved you since you surprised him at the airport when they came back from switzerland. you are the only person that hears him say that it's always been you that he's loved, that he's never seen anyone else besides you.

and he is the only one that hears you say that you love him, too.

[1d1195]

Thursday

Read Tuesday and extras here | 2.8k words

From me: based on this ask/suggestion

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst

Summary: A lot of things are back to normal. Like coffee dates, movie nights, and sharing a skin routine with Niall. But some things are a little uncharted. Like onions, bookmarks, dishes, and exes.

“What’s your favorite day of the week?” She asked.

“Friday of course,” Niall rolled his eyes. “What else would it be?”

“Saturday, obviously,” Harry stared at his friend as he brought a glass of water from the kitchen. He held it out to her. “Here, kitten.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking a long sip before Harry took it back from her and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. “Thursday is my favorite,” she told the pair. Harry fell into the seat beside her, his hand immediately resting on the inside of her leg, squeezing her thigh gently.

“Thursday!?” Niall’s eyebrows pinched together. “You still have a whole workday left! Why would you like Thursday?”

She shrugged. “Just... it’s a good day, you know? It’s anticipating for Friday. It’s nice.”

Harry stared at her dreamily. She could feel him look at her in her peripheral. It had been a while since someone looked at her the way he was looking at her. It hadn’t been long since they admitted they still loved each other. Only a few months. They settled back into the same normal routines they had when they dated the first time. “S’cute, love,” he squeezed her leg. “What movie are we doing tonight, Ni?”

“What number are we on?”

Harry shrugged. “Oh, I haven’t a clue. Think Mitch is keeping us on track.”

Since they started seeing one another again, she hadn’t come to one of their weekly movie nights. It made her feel better about not being overbearing and needy. But Harry invited her every week. Niall too. You don’t have to be here because of Harry. I want you here just as much as he does—maybe more because I’m ready to tie you to a chair to stay, Princess.

So finally, after countless invites, she finally caved. Not that it was hard. She was excited to be there. Their group of friends had been making their way through the Best Picture Oscar winners since the award’s beginning. It was cool to see how things changed over time, and it was really adorable to hear the way Harry talked about it. “I don’t have to stay for movie night,” she reminded Harry quietly. “If you want time with just your friends without—”

Although his mouth opened to protest, it wasn’t Harry that answered. “Princess, don’t be ridiculous,” Niall rolled his eyes. “Course we want you here. Help us pick out food.”

Niall cast his phone to the TV screen and was scrolling through the nearby places that would deliver to them in the next hour when their other friends arrived. “M’feeling pizza I think,” Harry suggested.

“Pizza it is,” Niall selected their favorite pizza place and began selecting way more pizza than seven people could ever eat.

“Make sure there’s one without onions.”

Her heart fluttered that Harry remembered that about her after all their time apart. Part of her thought about just going with it, never admitting the change in her palate. But she didn’t want to lie. “Actually,” she cleared her throat. “I like onions now,” she admitted almost shyly. Like she wasn’t allowed to change her mind.

“Y’do?” Harry blinked and turned fully toward her. A delighted smirk on his lips. It made the dimple in his left cheek pop through prominently.

She nodded. “Not sure how it happened. Think I accidentally ate something with onions in it and didn’t pick them out like a five-year-old. It actually tasted good. I like French onion soup now and everything,” she explained.

Harry’s smile grew, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead as if it was a bigger to do than it was; like winning an award or something. “I told y’that y’would like them,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and buried her face in his chest. “So brave,” he teased.

“Oh, shut it,” she laughed. “Did you at least warn them that I would be here?” She asked.

“Sarah is really looking forward to seeing you,” Niall once more took the lead in explaining. “She is tired of being the only girl around.”

While it wasn’t fully said, she knew Harry had been seeing a girl. In one way or another. It wasn’t a bad thing, she wasn’t judging. But Harry got exceedingly cagey about it whenever she tried to broach the subject. “What about—”

Harry squeezed her thigh again. A silent directive to stop her question. Niall smirked as Harry cut off her inquiry (and Niall’s impending quip). “Y’could bring a girl home, y’know,” Harry reminded him.

“She’ll be so jealous of our princess here,” Niall winked making her laugh. It really felt so easy. So simple. Just being back where she was supposed to be. Like nothing had changed at all. “Holding out for the one, Harold. You should know something about that,” he said knowingly and finished placing the pizza order. His phone screen disappeared from the TV, and he left the room.

She didn’t want Harry to feel like he had to hide part of his life from her. They were adults. He was allowed to see anyone he wanted. “You know...you can talk about someone you dated—”

“We didn’t date.”

“—pardon, fucked,” she smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a shade redder than she thought he needed to turn. It didn’t bother her that Harry had a life outside of her. He was unbelievably handsome. Unbelievably sweet. He deserved to be happy. She wasn’t jealous of someone else in his life when she had no claim to him in any way. “I jus’ don’t think s’polite t’talk ‘bout her t’you,” he shrugged. “S’rude.”

“Okay,” she nodded encouragingly. “If that’s how you feel, I just wanted you to know you could if you wanted to.”

Harry seemed a little less on edge about it after that, but she noted his grip on her thigh loosened. Even though she kinda liked how his fingers felt pressed into her skin. She figured she could tell him later when they were alone... and her clothes weren’t in the way.

*

They sat in the very coffee shop she used to work in. It was nice to get out and have an inexpensive date—even with two grown up jobs it was smart to sit and relax in the comfy seats and sip coffee they loved so much. It made her heart flutter that Harry still knew her order after so much time. Or maybe that was a comment on her stubbornness to change. “You should try the hazelnut drink they just got,” she smiled at him as they stood in line, holding hands. “It made me think of you.” The overlap of seeing him after two years and the new drink reminded her of all the things he loved and all the things she remembered loving about him. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek.

Once seated, Harry stretched his legs; they invaded her space beneath the table. But it didn’t seem to bother her. He admired her concentration on the book she was reading; the little furrow of her brow, the way her lips pursed together. She was so adorable, and Harry didn’t think she even knew. Beneath the table he nudged her leg with his knee, and she glanced up at him. He could tell she didn’t want to look up from her book. But he smiled at her. A smile that made her heart and stomach twist because he was so Harry, so perfect. It made her smile back.

“Harry!”

Both their heads turned to the voice. But after a brief moment, she turned to look at Harry. Trying to piece together the recognition. She came up short, but Harry stood and greeted the girl with a hug politely. There was a little flutter of jealousy that pinched her heart and she waited patiently.

“Kitten, this is Hailey,” his voice was neutral.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she cleared her throat and stood.

Hailey was beautiful. There was no question about it. When she left, she was going to ask about a thousand questions. Starting with if she was a model. Then asking Harry if she knew what kind of hair products she used.

“Same to you,” she smiled politely. Her voice took on a new tone as she turned back to Harry. It was obvious her problem wasn’t with her, for which she was grateful. “Hadn’t heard from Harry in a while.”

“That’s my fault,” Harry’s voice was low. As if he was exhausted. She could tell Harry wanted out of this conversation. Curiosity was getting the better of her as she tried to imagine if she had ever met Hailey prior or heard the name in any stories Niall had told.

“How long have you been seeing each other?” Hailey asked. She noticed her tone was getting harsher by the second. Her glare bored into Harry’s face.

She opened her mouth to say, ‘a few months,’ and get her attention away from her boyfriend. But Harry beat her to the punch. “Two and a half years,” he told her.

Hailey quirked an eyebrow up and she tilted her head at him curiously because while true, technically, there was a large two-year gap between the ‘two’ and the ‘half’ part of his sentence. But it did make her heart happy that he was willing to let the gap slide into oblivion. It would definitely require explanation, but it was nice.

Hailey looked at Harry for a long moment. “That’s news to me.”

“Hailey,” he said quietly.

“I can let you guys talk if—”

“S’fine, kitten,” he said quickly.

Hailey looked irritated beyond belief. She wished she fully knew why because right now the only thing she felt was overwhelming uncomfortableness. Quietly she sat in her seat and folded the page of her book down. Harry did a double take and shook his head before turning his attention back to Hailey.

“You ghosted me,” she said.

Harry closed his eyes. “I did,” he admitted. “But we were never...”

“I deserved more than that.”

“You did,” he agreed. It clicked. The girl that Harry wasn’t dating. The girl he was fucking in some arrangement that she didn’t know about. Her cheeks felt warm just knowing what happened. Hailey looked pissed. Her eyes were fueled with anger. “But we weren’t exclusive.”

She continued to glare at him. “You’re an ass.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded in agreement.

It almost seemed like Hailey was mad Harry was agreeing with her. Not that she could fully look at the scene unfolding in front of her to truly gauge it. She was taking extreme interest in her coffee cup. Hailey grabbed Harry’s cup of coffee, pulled the lid off and she closed her eyes as Harry braced for the cold liquid to cover him. “Good luck,” Hailey said in her direction then marched off to the exit. Once out of the shop and everyone was watching Harry drip from head to toe, she jumped into action. She asked her former coworkers for some towels, and she felt her face heat with embarrassment on behalf of Harry. If she wasn’t there, maybe that wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps Hailey would have had a conversation with Harry that she fully deserved and she wouldn’t have felt the need to dump coffee all over him.

“Kitten,” Harry murmured as she dabbed at his clothes and cleaned up the puddle at his feet. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. Are you alright?”

“M’so embarrassed,” he admitted.

She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here,” she squeezed his arm.

“But our date...”

She laughed quietly. “I mean, I wanted you out of your clothes anyway,” she teased.

Harry chuckled, his cheeks turning slightly pink with her flirtatious joke, and looked at his feet. “Yeah? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” She asked. There was a long pause as she gathered their belongings, returned the towels to the front where she thanked them profusely. Then she held the door open for Harry, sticky with coffee. He shrugged.

“I didn’t...” He sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you about her.”

“Why?”

“Because, kitten. If I knew y’were fucking some guy for the last two years without any strings attached I would be jealous out of m’mind,” he explained. “I’d be jealous if there were strings.”

She made a mental note to keep her ex to herself. “Well... I’m not mad. I wish you had told me so you could have ended things—”

“She was getting attached. I didn’t want a relationship. I started cutting it off weeks before I heard from you. I had only seen her once or twice in the months prior. She texted every now and again. I didn’t want a relationship,” he repeated. She got a jacket he had left in his backseat to lay over the driver’s seat so he wouldn’t have a car that smelled like sour coffee for the rest of time. They could always wash the jacket.

“No?” She asked. Harry took his seat and waited until she was in the passenger seat to continue.

He shook his head. “Now that I have y’back... I don’t know why we broke up,” he tapped his hands on the steering wheel. Her heart fluttered. “S’obvious now. M’not... I don’t know, kitten. Dating didn’t make sense after you. I tried. Really,” he assured her. “S’jus’... you were... you are special.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and felt the heat warm her skin with adoration and embarrassment. “You don’t have to pretend like you didn’t have a life while I wasn’t around.”

“I know. And I was wrong for how I handled Hailey,” he assented.

“Maybe, yes. But she didn’t need to pour coffee all over you.”

“At least it was iced,” Harry chuckled. She smiled. “Are we okay?”

“Of course,” she giggled.

Harry sighed with relief and grabbed her hand. He kissed her knuckles. Turning the car on and backing out of the spot. “Since when d’you fold the page of y’book like a serial killer?”

*

Harry always sucked at doing dishes. When she stayed at his house in the beginning of their relationship it drove her nuts to no end. He used too many and piled them high. Then he would leave them without soaking for so long it was miserable. It wasn’t even her responsibility to do the dishes but she felt like it was after he did all the cooking.

Which was why when he finished making dinner for them on a night in, she was floored to see him doing the dishes right away. Soaking and scrubbing them as she had done so many times over.

“You don’t like dishes,” she mumbled in surprise putting leftovers in Tupperware and condiments in the fridge.

He smirked glancing over his shoulder. “Didn’t realize how much I was torturing you all the years ago.”

She gaped. “What?”

“Niall went t’do the dishes after me shortly after we broke up,” he chuckled. “Said, ‘no wonder she broke up with you; I don’t even want t’be your roommate right now.’ Y’should have said something, kitten.”

Her cheeks felt warm. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“No,” he nodded firmly. “It was pretty bad, baby,” he nudged her with his hip.

She giggled and took the large pan that Harry had used to make stir fry (something that she had forgotten he made so well. It was delicious) and began drying it. “I don’t know, seemed like a bitchy thing to say ‘hey, I know you just made dinner for me and it was delicious and a lot of work, but I kind of want to strangle you for how difficult it is to wash the dishes.’”

He flicked water at her making her wrinkle her nose. The expression was adorable, made her look even cuter than she normally did so that Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Y’can’t hide stuff like that, kitten. Y’do that and I won’t know m’gonna lose you so I can fix it,” he winked.

“I hope you don’t lose me,” she mumbled.

He chuckled. “Whatcha say, love?” He wrapped his arms around her waist. His hands were still wet and he avoided her shirt as much as possible, holding her slightly awkwardly but it was cute. “Think m’gonna be stupid enough t’lose y’twice?”

She giggled and shook her head. “Not if I have a say in it,” she draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. He seemed to melt into the kiss—forgetting his hands were wet and getting the back of her shirt wet as well.

Which was fine by him.

He wanted her out of her shirt anyway.

—

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[murdrdocs]

spinnin' out waiting

description. you find TASHI DONALDSON at a hotel bar. you fall back into a version of your old self, a version that values tashi's opinion as much as you value the taste of her lips.

includes. SMUT 18+ MDNI, infidelity, 69ing, exes (again!), crazy amounts of longing, one mention of pegging, couple mentions of patrick and art, unnamed husband to r

wc. 4.2k+

a/n: art creds unknown. title from satellite by harry styles. barely edited as of 06/10

“Why'd you marry him?”

Tashi's words are soft, they’re inquisitive. They don’t seem accusatory, blending easily with the melody of the Bowie tune playing throughout the hotel lobby.

You hear her. You understand her over the clatter of glasses against table tops and shoes clicking against tile floors. You know exactly what she’s asking you. You have an answer, but beginning to act on the defense, you take your time formulating another one.

Here, at a hotel bar, you won't tell Tashi the real reason why you married your husband. You won't lay it all out for her to take, chew up, and spit right back at you.

You take a sip of your drink, ignoring how unfavored it is now that it's watered down, and you only speak once it's sitting back on the counter.

“Why did you?”

It's lame, nothing but a cop-out, but verbally, you aren't trying to impress Tashi right now. Right now, you're taking what you can, pathetically just trying to exist in her space for longer even if it means deflecting her words onto her. 

Physically, you’re trying to draw her in, attempting to impress her. It’s obvious in the way you’re sitting—shoulders pushed far back until there’s a pinch between your shoulder blades, your legs crossed at the ankles and your thighs squeezed together. You’re the picture of perfection, even holding your face in a way that you think Tashi will admire. 

Tashi takes the bait.

She shrugs, sighs, and dives into a calculated answer. “He's smart. Good at tennis.”

You think she means the words, or she had meant them at one time, but now they’re emotionless. They’re facts, not declarations of love. Her face doesn’t brighten like it should when talking about why you married your husband. 

You nod your head, rocking a little in your seat on the stool. Tashi has always been strategic, you aren't shocked that she doesn't mention her love for her husband in her admission.

She looks at you, eyes briefly taking down your body in a gesture so quick that you aren’t sure if it was intentional or not. You watch her lips part. 

“You were too.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “I was what?”

“Good at tennis.” Again, she says it so simply, so clear cut. To most, it would be. To most, it would be nothing but a fact, a compliment, even. 

With Tashi, it's something different. There is an admission in itself woven in her words. One you’ve waited to hear for years, one you only heard once before years ago. If you were weaker, still playing for her attention, maybe, then you would’ve let the admission draw you back to your coach who declared there would always be a place for you. Now, you only dip your head, watching your fingernail tap against your glass. 

“I'm out, Tashi. I'm done.”

The back and forth comes quickly. “You didn't have to be. You quit.”

“I retired.”

“You quit.”

You didn't expect the conversation to go this way, but you should have. You know Tashi. You may even know her better than you know your own husband. Perhaps she knows you better than your husband does. It's a thought you don't want to consider for longer than you need to.

You take your glass in your hand and finish your drink off. You don't bother ordering another. You won't be here for much longer. 

You don't know how the exit will be, if you'll be alone, or if Tashi will be in tow. But you can sense its approach.

“Why did you marry him?" She asks you again.

This time, you give an answer. It comes quick and simple. "Safety." What you don’t say is because I couldn’t marry you. 

You watch Tashi react. The corner of her lips lifts just a bit and she gets that look in her eye. The one that tells you that she has just found something out, a piece to add to the puzzle that makes up you.

She hums and you know she wants to say something. You want to hear it, but the words are likely to piss you off. They would ruin the small sense of harmony that exists in this space, and that's something you don't want.

So you let Tashi judge you. You sit there under her scrutinizing gaze and then when she's done, you watch her gaze soften.

“You had a few more in you."

It's tennis talk, but it's comforting.

“I watched your matches, you could've done a few more. A couple more years maybe. Wimbledon was always your strong suit I think you could've won it next year. Maybe Australia, too. France is a little rough on you, you move slower. But if yo—” You can't stand to hear it any longer.

You push your chair out from under you, standing over her. And for once, Tashi stops speaking. She's stunned, her dark eyes staring up at yours. Her lips stay parted, her unfinished words sitting stunted inside of her mouth. Her lips look so nice, and you try not to focus on that, but it seems like it's all you can focus on through the blurry sight. 

Your eyes burn, your nose stings. You're about to cry, and for what? Because Tashi is telling you that you're better than you thought? Truthfully, it's words you've been hearing for a while. Everyone has told you as such. But hearing it from her is different. It's like the words from God himself.

It should be embarrassing, how joyous you feel to have her attention on you once more. How delighted you are that Tashi Duncan—Tashi Donaldson is finally giving you the time of day again. It should be embarrassing, and maybe it would be if you weren’t so intently focused on keeping your tears at bay.

Nearly a decade and a half later, you’re still worshiping at her altar.

Patrick all those years ago was right. You’re no better than Art. You don’t think you wanted to be.

You stand with intentions to leave. Grab your bag, you tell yourself. Go upstairs to your room and to your husband.

But Tashi is looking at you. She's looking at you with kindness beneath her lined eyes. On the surface, it's unnoticeable. Maybe it's not there at all and you're just deluding yourself. But you think that under there, buried down beneath everything she uses to keep herself strong and above everyone else, is kindness. Towards you. Towards the situation. Towards herself.

“St back down,” she tells you.

You stay standing.

Tashi's hand reaches for yours. Her left hand crosses her body, resting on your left hand. You glance down, noticing the way your respective rings glint in the moody lighting. When you blink, a tear falls. You try to wipe it away before Tashi can notice it.

"Sit back down," She speaks slowly this time and it seems like a plea. So you sit back down.

Your pants are touching the cushion of the bar stool for only a few seconds before Tashi leans forward. There isn't necessarily hesitance towards her movements, but she moves slowly. It's as if she's giving you an out.

But there's no way you could want an out for the thing you've wanted for years. Finally, she's giving you an in, even if the circumstances existing outside of this bubble make the situation inappropriate.

But when you close the gap, you don't feel guilty. Because you had her first. Before any of the boys came into your lives, it was you and Tashi. 

And here, and now, it’s you and Tashi. Art, Patrick, and your husband don’t exist at this moment past the rings on your fingers and lingering chastising. Physically, in this space, it’s you and Tashi.

Her hand falls to your thigh. Your hand slides up to the side of her neck. 

She scoots her stool closer to yours and your back arches as you push yourself closer into her. A blast of AC brings her perfume to your awareness. She smells the same as before, a gentle vanilla, but there’s a new maturity to it. The scent is stronger, without being overpowering. It’s aged, with a deeper heat to it. 

It’s alluring.

When you pull away from her, you’re shocked to feel her lips chase yours. She kisses you, once, twice, and then she’s only stopped by your hands cupping her cheeks. 

You stare at Tashi. She stares at you, big brown eyes lined with smudged makeup. She should look intimidating, like how she appears in the stands. But she looks innocent, almost. 

“Tashi.” 

Her eyebrows furrow. It’s nice to see worry on her face when it’s directed at you. You like it when she cares about you. 

“What? What is it?” 

“Tashi, we shouldn’t.” 

Her eyebrows relax and her face morphs into something else. Disappointment? It’s a look that makes your throat sting. 

You’re close to taking your warning back, but you instead let it suspend in the air. You lick your lips, your grip on Tashi’s cheeks relaxing as you prepare to retreat. Your purse sits on the counter, and in it is your keycard to your hotel room. It would be easy to grab your things and slip back into your room for a quick shower before sliding into bed. But that’s not what you want. 

You want to see where this goes. 

If she’ll let you. 

You expect Tashi’s body to relax away from you, but it doesn’t. 

She stands, her hands resting on your thighs as she stares down at you. 

“Why shouldn’t we?” 

You have answers, many of them. Two of them sit just a few floors above you both, waiting for either of you to crawl back into bed and resume the role of the loving, supportive wife. 

You could give her reasons, but you don’t. Instead, you lamely stare up at Tashi, your best friend. 

It’s a title she hasn’t been the owner of for years, but you still find it easy to give it to her now. You’ll extend it for her to forever hold, an honor she doesn’t have to want for you to bestow upon her. 

You’ll let Tashi Donaldson be whatever she wants to be, so long as she’s in your life. 

Maybe that’s why you don’t resist at all when she leans down and presses her lips to yours. 

You kiss her with vigor you’ve never kissed your husband with. Vigor that could have never existed with him, because you’ve been burying it deep down inside just for her. It’s a build-up of all the times you cheered her on for a date. All the times you listened to her tell you about her endeavors and pushed down the images of you two in the described positions. The tears you hid with steamy showers and bottles of wine when you heard about her wedding from the tabloids and not an invitation. 

It all comes together as slides of your lips against hers. Full-forced presses of your tongues together. Wandering hands roaming through expensive hairdos and along even more expensive clothing items. 

You’re in public, sitting at a hotel bar, but you couldn’t care less. Even if it weren’t late at night, if the lobby were bustling with late check-outs and early check-ins, you don’t think you would care. Absolutely nothing could pull you from Tashi’s embrace. You convince yourself this when you stand to your full height, pressing your chest against Tashi’s. 

She turns you until your lower back digs into the edge of the counter. One of her hands cups your face and you can feel the bracelet on her wrist dig into your arm as she rests the other on the counter behind you. You hold her close with two hands on her slender waist, pressing into the thick fabric of her cardigan. 

You need to feel more of her. Her clothing is in the way. You need to feel her skin on yours in ways you had almost been privy to in college when tailored pants and overpriced sweaters were replaced by Victoria’s Secret pajama sets and Stanford sweatshirts. 

You do what you can in this public space, lifting the hem of her cardigan and pressing your hands into her torso beneath it. She’s wearing a shirt, but it’s cropped just enough for you to feel her taut abdomen. She’s soft, just like you expected her to be. 

You melt against her when you circle your hands around her back and feel even more of her skin. 

Eventually, Tashi pulls away. She doesn’t go far, pecking your neck and clavicle even as she struggles to catch her breath. You’re about to ask her where. You can’t let Tashi fuck you in a hotel bar, even if you would’ve let it happen if it weren’t so morally wrong, and you’re about to ask her where she could fuck you. 

The words are formed on your tongue, sitting right on the tip, waiting. And then the elevator dings. You don’t care immediately. You forget yourself. You forget that you’re in public, pressed against a hotel bar with onlookers just a few feet away. They might not be looking at you, but you’ve had an audience this entire time. You could have another member joining the audience, too, if that elevator ding is who you think it is. 

You forgot that you’re married, and not to her. 

But the sound of the elevator, followed by an excited squeal of his name and then your name, the one he gave you, quickly reminds you. 

You pull yourself off of Tashi completely. The only way to do that is to shove her away from you and even though you try to do it as gently as possible, it still hurts both of you. But it does the job. Tashi stands in front of you instead of against you. 

You try your best to collect yourself. Wiping over and around your mouth, fixing your top, righting the position of your ring on your finger, and doing the same for your necklaces. You clear your throat, awkwardly step around Tashi, and then you look at her. 

You look at her, really look at her in case you won’t get the chance to again, and then you turn yourselves around, grab your purse, and just look at her. 

You wait for him to come this way. You wait for the sound of his shoes against the laminate, the strong waft of his cologne, the deep rumble of his voice. You wait for him to pull you into his chest, press a kiss into your forehead, and sincerely tell you that he was looking for you. That he woke up to an empty bed and was worried sick. You wait for the guilt to settle in your gut like a rock. You wait for this energy to be disrupted for good.

When it doesn’t come, you don’t know what to do. 

Tashi cocks her head, crosses her arms over her chest. 

You can sense her wanting to ask you a question so you press your shoulders back and prepare yourself. 

“Are you gonna go with him?” 

You don’t answer. You lick your lips, flit through the array of bottles against the wall behind her, and listen for the sound of fans talking to your husband. 

Tashi only continues. “He’ll only be distracted for so long before he comes looking for you, right? So, are you gonna go with him, or are you coming with me?” 

You try to sit and consider it, juggling the thoughts in your head, but it’s nothing but a waste of time. Your decision has been made ever since she kissed you. It’s what you really want. But it’s what you cannot have. 

So instead, you grab your purse, spare Tashi one final look, and walk away from her. 

“What happened downstairs?”

You’re in the middle of brushing your teeth when he asks you. The action gives you time to consider. Consider the implications of his question. Consider the repercussions of the answer you’ll give him. 

You’re done when you spit the first time, but you go back for another round of brushing to give yourself more time. 

Your actions don’t deter your husband. He stands in the center of the entrance to the bathroom, blocking the exit with his hands in the pockets of his pants. You’d bought them for him for Christmas two years ago. 

Eventually realizing you’re not escaping this, you spit, rinse, and wipe before turning to face your husband. 

“Nothing happened.” 

It’s true to you. You were in Tashi’s embrace last night, but nothing happened. 

You look at your husband, watching him take your answer in. You’re preparing for further questioning, to be put under the white-hot light and spew out lie after lie in order to save your ass and your marriage. You don’t expect him to accept it so quickly. 

“Okay.”

You can’t help but ask him, “Okay?” 

He nods. “I’ll always believe you, you know that. Now come to bed before I start watching Scandal without you.” 

You try to stay put in your room tonight. It’s empty, left alone while your husband attends an event you should’ve been at. But you were sick, riddled with sudden guilt that fostered in your body, creating stomach cramps, headaches, and heat flashes. 

You needed to do something about it. 

You tried to drink it away with warm tea. You tried to wash it away with a hot shower. You try to relax it away in the best ways you know how—room service and an old match of your husbands. But nothing you did helped. You still found yourself in an empty bed, tossing and turning and craving a companion that you shouldn’t crave. 

You know the solution. She sits downstairs. You know she does. You don’t need visual confirmation.

But you get it anyway. Sitting in the same spot as yesterday, in the same cardigan as before. Her hair is pulled away from her face in a clip, but it’s still too short to stay pulled all the way back. Highlights frame her face, and short pieces of hair sit against the nape of her neck. Her head is down, staring straight at the bar where she has her hotel keycard in her hand, tapping the plastic edge against the marble. 

She doesn’t have a drink. You figure she won’t stay for long. 

When you approach her, she doesn’t look up. You don’t bother sitting. 

“Come with me.” 

When you say it, she doesn’t immediately respond. She doesn’t even acknowledge you until at least a minute later, but it could have easily been longer. She looks up at you and she looks like Tashi Duncan. With her hair framing her face messily, her eyes completely free of makeup and soft, she looks like your best friend. She also looks like she’s been crying, or maybe holding it off. 

You want to ask her if she’s okay, but you know what her answer will be, so you save yourself time. 

“Are you gonna leave me again?”

Her response punches you in the gut. It also riles you up. 

You scoff and consider turning back around. You stand your ground long enough to say, “I guess we’re even then, right?”

Tashi doesn’t need further explanation. She backs down, you can see it happening physically. Her shoulders relax and her lips quirk down for a split second. It’s long enough for you to notice it happening, but then it’s gone. She’s stoic, neutral. It’s a practiced look. One she’s perfected by now. 

“Are you coming?” 

She takes a moment, she takes a breath, and then she stands. 

You’re in your hotel room for long enough to hear the door click behind you, signaling that it’s locked, and then Tashi’s lips are on yours. 

It’s unclear who moves first. Maybe you move in tandem, finally satisfied to be with each other in seclusion for the first time in years. 

All that matters is that you’re leading Tashi towards the bedroom and your fallen clothing marks the trail. From the door to the bed lay her cardigan, tee shirt, pants, one of her shoes, your hoodie, your leggings, and both of your shoes.

You fall onto the bed and Tashi quickly follows you. She straddles you, long body curled up to hover over your form, reminiscent of a vulture. 

She kisses you in the same manner as before, but there’s more haste to her lips this time. 

She kisses you like she’s insatiable, taking more and more without taking a moment to see if what she already has is enough. You have a feeling that whatever she takes from you, whatever you give her, will never be enough. 

It’s the same for you. 

Finally getting to hear the sounds Tashi makes whenever you slip your hand between her thighs makes your head spin. It’s an addicting feeling similar to substances that produce the same effect, but this is much better. This is a version you’ll risk it all to have. The moans and gasps that Tashi releases when you press into her clit over the thin fabric of her panties are debilitating. It bruises you, only to build you right back up again. 

You need more. 

So you produce more. 

You slip your hand beneath the waistband and let your fingertips meet Tashi’s bare cunt for the first time. She shudders, so sensitive, and she’s so fucking wet. The first touch flatters you. It comforts you to confirm that you’re having the same effect on her that she’s always had on you. 

Even during times when you hadn’t seen her. During times when you relied on memory, getting yourself off in the shower. Or times when you caught a glimpse of her at a match that your husband was playing in, and you thought of her that night when your husband fucked you in honor of his win. Then, you’d been soaked beyond belief. Much like Tashi is now. 

You don’t waste any more time, giving the suggestion to Tashi with a grin. Of course, she’s quick to accept. 

You ask her if she’s been in this position since that time. She tells you she hasn’t, and she asks you the same. You say you haven’t, but you’ve been dreaming of it. 

You end up face-to-face with Tashi’s cunt, and she is in the same position with yours. Both of you make quick work of the other, no longer in the mood for playing with your food, especially now since it’s sitting right in front of you.

You assume it’s been a while since Tashi’s been with a woman, but she hasn’t lost any of her skill at all. She devours you with enthusiasm, working her mouth in ways that have you momentarily distracted from your own task. 

Until your competitive side kicks in. You refuse to let Tashi win, beginning to engage in a silent, but obvious, competition with her. 

She quickly starts to become more verbal, even her moans sounding breathless. It’s an ego boost. 

“Wish I … Wish I had the—” she breaks her words off to whine and it’s such a heavenly sound. “Wish I had the strap up here.” 

You lay your head back away from her cunt to speak. 

“You have it with you?” There’s humor to your words, and you break off into a laugh when Tashi responds. 

“Art likes it.”

Tashi giggles with you, and as soon as the fit dies down, she lowers her head, you pull her hips closer to you, and you both get back to it. 

The first time is over quicker than either of you anticipated. Tashi cums first, her back arching and her tongue stopping against your cunt. You, on the other hand, kept going. You licked and sucked and teased until Tashi was tapping against your thigh and begging that you stop. Then she continued, and it took barely anything to get you in the same position as her. 

You both finished, but you weren’t done. It was hard to stay off of each other, and even when you did stop, you would take a break and find each other again. You hadn’t fucked that much since your honeymoon. In a way, you felt like you were on your honeymoon. 

The clothes in the closet and the toiletries in the bathroom didn’t belong to Tashi, but you could pretend that they did. The ring on your finger wasn’t Tashi’s, but you pretended it was. You weren’t Tashi’s, but you pretended you were. 

Up until your husband calls you. 

The grogginess in your voice was real and he winced as he thought he woke you. He kept it brief, a quick warning that he was heading home and stopping by a place for food on the way. He sent you the menu, urging you to reply if you wanted something. And then he blew a kiss over the line and told you he loved you. 

You repeated his actions without any hesitation. 

When Tashi inevitably had to leave your hotel room, you kissed her cheek and told her you loved her without any hesitation. 

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

one thing I haven't touched upon yet is how well the showrunners handled the time jump between Camp Cretaceous and Chaos Theory and more specifically - how well they handled maturing the campers.

At least to me the transition is nearly smoothless. Like, a couple of years have passed for those kids and those included years when people tend to change a lot - from children they grow into young adults. And the show did a fantastic job of shaping their adult forms in terms of personality. Because all of them have the core traits that we associated them with in Camp Cretaceous but at the same time they are more mature and carry their experiences on their back - both the experiences that we know of and those that could potentially fill up the time jump space if you know what I mean.

I look at Kenji for example and I still see remains of the boy that he was - a little bit arrogant (it still shows! he is very proud just of different things!), someone who doesn't shy away from an argument; but at the same time I see a man who has spent hours teaching kids and adults how to rock-climb - he can be patient too; I see someone who had to re-evaluate a lot in his life, and I can see that it wasn't easy, that it took a toll on him.

Or for example Sammy! Someone who loves her friends and family dearly still, a girl who was willing to fight for those she loved. But at the same time I see a young woman who knows that sometimes a compromise is the best option (like that situation with her neighbor). I see someone who still learns when her love and affection need to take a backseat for others to develop. I see someone who knows that sometimes being apart, even if it hurts, may be a good thing. I see someone forgiving but persistent.

Ben too... A boy who went through severe trauma that made his personality do flip and then, once time passed, he started rebuilding what was left of his old core. Anxious he is, a little boy still, but also a fighter - because he had to be one. At the same time, I see a young man who is a little torn on where he stands, who still figures out the details of his personality but who also knows his strengths and capabilities. In the end, he is energy-unbound, and he is eager to learn about the world in so many ways.

Darius, a boy who lost so much, and a young man who lost just as much. Life hasn't been easy on him. In jwcc grief encouraged him to attend camp, fulfill his father's dream. In jwct that aspect of his personality develops even more - now grief spins him into action, he doesn't wait for things to happen, he acts. He can work with others but he can also rely on himself, he grew up; he knows that he can handle himself, he still learns that he can reach out and ask for help, but he's getting there. He really is.

Not to mention Yas who has always been a creative person. Yes, it may be surprising that I mention that first but look at her now - inventing stuff, conducting projects? Remember her sketchbook in jwcc? Yeah, look where that creativity took her, look where her compassion took her - she helps people by helping herself. It was such a problem for her in jwcc (esp at the beginning) and look at her now - she's miles ahead of her old self.

Their personalities make so much sense because they are a clear continuation of their personalities in jwcc, and that's one of the reasons why jwct is so freaking good.

[ariforshort]

loser!mizu as your girlfriend

︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

જ⁀➴warnings/tags— mentions of alcohol, sex/smut, homophobic jokes, sewerslide jokes, taigen, college au, no beta read we die like mikio and mama

જ⁀➴a/n— happy pride month, my loves!! I said I'd write some loser!mizu and I don't really have the energy for full fics right now, so here's some headcanons!! sorry it's a little short, but I've got something in the works right now! love u all —ari, disappearing🕷️🌀

sfw ! 𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

જ⁀➴she is CLINGY. especially when she's drunk, which isn't often. she's constantly got a hand on you— your hip, waist, shoulder, thigh, if it's within reach she WILL grab it. baby is touch starved as hell

જ⁀➴would pick up rocks for you and give them to you all the time, you have a rock collection in your room that is slowly taking over

જ⁀➴when you first met she quite literally could not talk to you— you were simply too much even to look at, but in the best way possible. she went home that night and cried because she couldn't talk to you.

જ⁀➴the best caretaker ever. you being you, you'll often come home drunk and barely able to function while mizu will always be waiting for you to come home, stone cold sober, to take care of you

જ⁀➴she washes your hair and body for you, helps you change, makes sure you eat and have some water, etc etc

જ⁀➴in the event where you're sick, she's an angel sent from the heavens. she'll stay with you at any chance she gets, never once leaving your side other than to get things for you. she'll let you give her your illness and still take care of you despite being ill herself.

જ⁀➴literally the sweetest thing, she's constantly checking up on you to make sure you're okay :')

જ⁀➴taigen bullies her constantly about how whipped she is, she'll tell him to khs and he will always reply with the same thing; "no you kys you're literally gay" and they will say the same things over and over again until you stop them.

જ⁀➴at your side CONSTANTLY. she ties your shoelaces, puts on your necklaces and bracelets, pulls up your socks, does your hair, fuck it she'll make an attempt at your makeup if you let her

જ⁀➴the second you give her even a little idea that you're insecure, she's all over you— hands, lips, eyes trailing over you as if she can hardly believe you're there.

જ⁀➴she finds it hard to believe you're here and you're hers, and she loses her mind when she gets to put her hands on you because you're so perfect.

nsfw! 𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

જ⁀➴has the most loser virgin energy ever

જ⁀➴this does NOT stop her from fuckin dirty, she is somehow really good at sex without knowing

જ⁀➴has a super high sex drive but refuses to let on to it

જ⁀➴stone top/service top :]

જ⁀➴she eats pussy like it's her first meal in years and her last meal on death row, pussydrunk as hell

જ⁀➴despite being soft as hell in most situations she is SO rough sometimes it's insane. initially she's terrified of hurting you but after finding out how much it gets to you she minds less

જ⁀➴is very much one for soft gentle sex though, the 'whispering how much she loves you as she buries her face in your neck' type, ya get me?? she's so soft it's adorable, you tell her this and she will INSTANTLY cum

જ⁀➴will eat you out regardless what you're doing— on your phone, reading, studying, in the shower, she's in-between your legs 95% of the time and it never gets old.

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter One / Thursday- George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

It's Summer and you've been dating George Russell, golden boy of the Mercedes Formula One Team, for the last year. Outwardly it looks like the perfect relationship, travelling the world hand-in-hand with your rich and famous other half but lately you've started to feel like an accessory to his success.

When you're invited aboard his boss' yacht for the week, you start to get to know the man who so often is the object of your boyfriend's affection, enigmatic Team Principal, Toto Wolff. Steely at first, as you get to know him, you start to see why your boyfriend is so enamoured.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Nothing spicy yet. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

THURSDAY MORNING

As you packed the last of your vacation outfits into your weekend bag you sighed, thinking about how you were going to survive this week. You’d been dating your boyfriend for almost a year and things had started well but lately, you felt something was off. 

For all intents and purposes, he was a catch. Good on paper as some people would say. He was a Formula One driver and a talented one at that, he was smart, he was funny (even though sometimes he didn’t mean to be) and he was kind. It also didn’t hurt that he was tall, easy on the eye and allergic to wearing a shirt ninety percent of the time.

Yes, George Russell was outwardly the perfect boyfriend. Just not the one for you. In your heart of hearts, you knew that he just wasn’t the one and it wasn’t fair to keep stringing him along. His work took precedence and you found yourself constantly making awkward small talk with random people during events, his focus entirely on his career. 

To begin with, life as a Formula One partner had been exciting, a glamorous world previously closed off to you now opened. You’d accompany George to races here and there, cheering him on from the garage, living the highs and lows and trying to support him as much as you could. Then there were tennis matches, charity galas, fashion shows, and even glossy film premieres and he always needed a date. 

He was quick to include you in his busy life but after a year of being treated like arm candy, playing second fiddle to George, the novelty had worn thin. You were no more than an accessory. Old men leered at you, girls were jealous and the mechanics thought you were some kind of bimbo gold-digger. It was decidedly less fun than it looked and you knew you owed it to yourself to put a stop to it.

It was difficult as George had not done anything wrong, he just sometimes forgot that you were a person and took your support for granted. You’d voiced your feelings but they were only ever met with empty promises. Even your Summer plans had been hijacked by his work as he’d cancelled the trip to South Africa that you’d booked in favour of accompanying his boss on his yacht for a week. 

You’d had numerous arguments about his overly close relationship with his boss, the mildly terrifying Mercedes Team Principal, Toto Wolff. You hadn’t spent much time with the man but George practically lived in his pocket. He even stayed at his house when they worked at the factory in the UK. It was strange, to say the least, and you’d had to learn to live with the unusual dynamic between the pair of them, awkwardly saying hello to the intimidating Austrian when you were in the garage but never quite breaking through his cool demeanour.

George on the other hand, loved his boss and was constantly “Toto says this,” “Toto recommends that.” So when he’d invited him onto his yacht for the Summer, he hadn’t hesitated to drop all other plans. Even if that meant you not getting to go on the safari you’d meticulously planned.

Casting your mind back to how the conversation had gone, you were still annoyed about it.

“It’s just for a week.” George had pleaded, “And it’s good for my career to be close to Toto. I owe him everything.”

You rolled your eyes, having heard this spiel before. “Why don’t you just ask him to formally adopt you and be done with it?”

George huffed, “That wasn’t funny before and it’s not funny now. Please, just do this for me, and we can go to South Africa another time. He’s never invited us before, if we say no, who knows how long it will be if we get another invite, if ever.”

Feeling slightly guilty, you replied, “Sorry, I know that was a little mean. Look, I was just looking forward to the safari.”

“I know,” said George, his bright eyes softening as he wrapped his arms around you, “But I promise you, we’ll go soon. And besides, Toto’s yacht will be nice, you can snorkel, you can paddleboard, you’ll love it.”

Smiling slightly, you knew you wouldn’t be going to South Africa any time soon, George’s schedule was too full on. And that’s why you knew you needed to end things soon. He hadn’t done anything wrong but you had lost yourself in George’s calendar. 

Swallowing your thoughts, you knew that he’d already said yes on your behalf so it was too late to back out, “I guess, and like you said, it’s only a week.”

“There’s my girl.” George kissed you lightly on the cheek, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

Having successfully packed, you and George had been driven down to the marina to board the yacht. You felt a little nervous as you walked beside George towards the imposing vessel you’d be spending the week on. It was one of the larger boats docked and you could already see various members of staff milling about on deck. 

You didn’t know Toto very well beyond saying hello and you weren’t sure what to expect outside of racing. He always seemed very serious and calculating, and still reeling from his acrimonious divorce, not the most fun person to holiday with. You knew that a few of George’s colleagues and their wives and girlfriends would be there too so you hoped that they at least might be somewhat entertaining.

Stepping off of the passarelle and onto the boat behind George, he suddenly dropped your luggage and started waving manically as he spotted his formidable boss standing on the sundeck above.

“Hi Toto!” he called out.

“Welcome!” Toto called out, disappearing momentarily before reappearing at the bottom of the stairs in front of you. He was dressed casually but smartly in head-to-toe navy with dark sunglasses.

“How are you both?” he said kindly, stretching out to George for a warm embrace before holding his arms out to you.

Half hugging him awkwardly, you replied, “Very well thank you, thank you again for the invite, we’ve been excited all week.”

Thrilled that you were buttering up his boss, George chimed in, “Yes, we’ve been counting down the days.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Toto, smiling contently, “The others arrived a short while ago so are at the front. Perhaps Livia can show you to your cabin and then you can come and join us for a drink?”

He gestured at a young blonde stewardess who had discreetly appeared from inside, ready to show you to your quarters.

“Thanks, Toto.” said George, clapping his boss on the shoulder enthusiastically before following Livia, “We’ll be right back.”

Taken aback that George had followed Livia without remembering to pick up your two weekend bags you shook your head as you were left struggling to pick them up and follow. Typical George.

“Here, let me help.” a deep, accented voice offered. Turning around, you were surprised to see Toto standing there, his arm outstretched.

“Oh…” you said blushing and tripping over your words, “It’s okay, honestly. I think George was overexcited to see his room.”

Toto smiled, taking the two bags from you despite your protests, lifting them effortlessly, “That’s our George.”

Smiling reluctantly, you agreed as you followed Toto inside, “Indeed.” 

At least his boss seemed like a gentleman.

THURSDAY EVENING

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pastel pink, dinner that evening was set against an idyllic backdrop. You and George being the last to arrive, all guests were now on board and the yacht had finally set sail for your week-long jaunt into the Mediterranean.

The crew had prepared a cosy dinner on the deck, complete with twinkling fairy lights and a long table set for seven. Toto was sat at the head of the table, yourself and James, the Mercedes Technical Director either side of him.

On your other side was James’ wife, Cara, and across from you diagonally was the Communications Director’s wife, Marion. Making up the other end of the table was George and the Communications Director himself, John, who were chatting animatedly and ignoring everyone else.

As the two other couples knew each other well, James, Cara and Marion were equally engrossed in conversation with Toto, leaving you awkwardly eating in silence, trying your best to not give in to the pang of loneliness you felt.

As the dinner progressed, you couldn’t help but notice how isolated you felt. The laughter and chatter of the others a stark contrast to your internal turmoil. You tried to engage in small talk with the people around you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to your problems with George. 

This was yet another evening you’d spent surrounded by people yet isolated because you didn’t fit in. You were a side character in George’s life, there when it was convenient and discarded when someone more important was around.

Not one to miss a trick, Toto noticed your distraction. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice gentle yet concerned.

You forced a smile. "Yes, just feeling a little seasick." You weren’t proud of the lie but figured it might be the best way forward to get out of this agonising dinner.

His eyes crinkled with concern, he nodded, understandingly. "Sometimes it takes a while to get used to being at sea. Would you like to go up to the sun deck? The air is fresher, it might help."

Grateful for the offer and the opportunity to escape, you nodded. "That sounds nice, thank you."

Excusing yourself from the table you made your way to the stairs up to the sun deck. You glanced back at George, not surprised to see he was yet to clock your departure from the table. More surprising, however, was the fact that Toto had gotten up to follow you. You hadn’t expected him to accompany you and were slightly taken aback as the tall Austrian followed you up the stairs.

Dreading yet more awkward small talk, you wandered to the front of the sun deck, where the moonlight was pooling on the pristine white sun loungers. You leaned against the railing, taking in the tranquil scene.

"This is beautiful," you said softly, more to yourself than to Toto who had slotted himself a few feet to your right.

"It is," Toto agreed. "It’s one of the reasons I love being out here. It’s a good place to think, to clear your mind."

You turned to him, genuinely curious. "Do you come out here often?"

He smiled, a distant look in his eyes. "Whenever I can. It helps me balance the chaos of work."

You nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I can see why. It’s so peaceful and you were right, the air does feel fresher."

Toto nodded and for a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, just listening to the sounds of the sea. 

Suddenly feeling somewhat awkward that you were standing gazing in the moonlight with your boyfriend’s boss, you chanced striking up more of a conversation. You were somewhat intrigued as to why George was so enamoured with the Team Principal and you had to seize the opportunity as quickly as it came.

“Thank you for everything you do for George,” you said, hoping to sound genuine.

Toto looked somewhat surprised and a little amused at your words, “It’s no trouble, he’s a good boy.”

Laughing at Toto calling George a boy, you pushed a little further, “I mean it. I honestly do.”

“I know.” said Toto, his gaze intense as he turned to you, “How are you feeling?”

“A little better actually,” you lied, “It’s also more stable up here, downstairs I felt like I was swishing around.”

“Swishing around?” Toto asked, quirking an eyebrow, “I don’t think I’ve heard it called that.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, not sure what he was getting at.

“Look, I could see you were not feeling comfortable at dinner.” he said, somewhat bluntly, “I see you when you are in the garage too. You always look ready to bolt. Are you not a fan of racing?”

Taken aback by his astute judgment and surprised that he'd noticed, you felt defensive and mumbled quietly  “It’s not that.”

Toto looked unconvinced, “I get it, you’re shy.”

“A little,” you confessed, “It’s a lot sometimes.”

Toto’s face softened, his brown eyes warm as he looked at you, “I understand. It’s not easy. You get used to it though.”

Thinking about the fact that you probably wouldn’t need to if you went through with your break-up plan, you just nodded, pretending that you agreed with his wisdom, “I hope so.”

“You will.” he said kindly, “So George tells me you like to travel a lot?”

“I do,” you said, surprised that he was now being chatty, “But not so much to the races, I like to escape in nature, it’s good for the soul.”

A smirk flickered on Toto’s lips, “I agree. If you’d like we can go exploring tomorrow. There are some coves around here we can stop at.”

“For real?” you asked, even more surprised that he was willing to bend his itinerary for you, someone he barely knew.

“For real,” he said succinctly. “And if the others don’t like it, they can stay on the boat and sunbathe.”

Laughing, you smiled at him, “Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m glad I can make you smile.” he said, his face serious, “You looked sad down there.”

Not sure how to reply, you looked down at your feet, choosing your words carefully before looking back up at Toto  “I’m just seasick. That’s all.”

Thoroughly unconvinced, Toto quirked an eyebrow, “Tomorrow you will feel better. I promise. Shall we go back to dinner? I’m sure George will be missing you.”

“I’m not sure about that.” you said quietly, causing Toto to raise his eyebrow once more, “He’ll be chatting away to John, I bet.”

“How much?” asked Toto as you both made your way towards the stairs.

“Two euros,” you said jokingly.

“It’s a bet,” replied Toto, holding out his hand to shake with all the seriousness that he would when making a business deal.

“Deal,” you said, taking his large hand in yours, grinning as you met the laughing Austrian’s eyes.

Sure enough, as you made your way back down the stairs towards the table, George was still chatting away to John, barely pausing for breath, let alone noticing the two of you taking back to your seats.

“How would you like to pay?” you asked Toto cheekily, as you both sat down, “I can accept cash, cheque or credit card”

“What’s Toto paying you for?” asked James, stopping mid-conversation, his interest suddenly piqued.

“We made a bet.” said Toto, clasping his hands under his chin, “It’s a secret though.”

James looked slightly sceptical, turning to you for more information, “Care to elaborate?”

“Deals have to be discrete.” you said, fighting the urge to laugh as Toto’s eyes sparkled at you, “Toto will be the first one to tell you that.”

Slightly tipsy, James laughed, not pressing further and returning to his animated discussion with the two older women. Glancing down at the other end of the table, George had barely looked up and once more you felt a pang of disappointment. He was clueless sometimes.

– – –

As dinner came to a close, Toto announced the plan for the next day. 

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll be exploring some of the coves around here. It will be an early start but should be fun. Who’s interested?”

George and John immediately expressed their interest, nodding eagerly. “Count us in!” George said, his enthusiasm reminding you of a child on a school trip.

James, Cara and Marion were less enthused about the early start and politely declined, deciding instead to stay on the boat, soaking in the sun.

Toto turned to you with a gentle smile. “How about you?”

You nodded, feeling genuinely excited for the first time in a while. “I’d love to.”

– – –

Having sussed out tomorrow’s plan and the seven am start, you bid your gracious host and fellow guests goodnight and you and George finally made your way to your shared quarters. The silence between you was palpable, each step echoing your unspoken thoughts.

Once inside the cabin, George broke the silence. “What were you doing going off with Toto?” he asked a hint of accusation in his tone.

You sighed, sitting down on the bed “I felt seasick and needed some fresh air so Toto suggested the sun deck. That’s all.”

George’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You could have told me.”

“I could have,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But you were busy with John and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

At this, George’s expression softened just a fraction and he settled down beside you. “Okay. I just... I don’t know… Let me know next time. I don’t want you feeling seasick and me not being there to help.”

You smiled sadly, knowing that for all of his faults, his heart was in the right place, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He nodded, wrapping his arm around you, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you said, leaning into him, feeling somewhat guilty that you had ignored him in favour of his boss.

“What were you talking about though?” he asked suddenly.

“We were talking about you and then this and that.” you said, before adding, “He’s actually quite nice. I get it now.”

At that, George looked a little put out but dropped the subject quickly, getting up to get ready for bed. As he busied himself unpacking his pyjamas, you couldn’t help but think of Toto, he was nicer than you’d given him credit for.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like someone had considered you as a person and not as George’s plus one. It was a good feeling to ponder as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the adventure that awaited you tomorrow.

[lvnleah]

Sick Days | Leah Williamson x Lia Wälti

Summary: Sage wakes up with a sore tummy and Leah and Lia spend the day taking care of their bubba.

Word count: 1.7k

This hasn’t been edited so ignore any mistakes!

Thank you to @scribblesofagoonerr and @wosoamazing for the amazing help you gave me when I struggled writing this!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Leah and Lia laid in their cosy bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the baby monitor screen. Sage’s room was just down the hallway and although she was now three years old, Leah liked having the baby monitor near her to keep her mind at ease.

Leah’s arm was draped over Lia’s stomach as the pair slept peacefully together. Leah’s sleep was soon interrupted when she heard Sage’s cries echo through the monitor.

She gently removed her arm from around Lia’s waist, rubbing her eyes before rolling out of her bed.

Lia blinked, disoriented by sleep, “Is that Sage?”

Leah yawned, nodding her head as she slipped her slippers on, “Yeah, I’m going to go check on her.”

“Want me to come with you?” Lia offered, concerned by the three year olds cries, “She never wakes up in the night.”

“It’s okay love,” Leah whispered, kissing Lia’s temple, “She’s probably just lost her teddy again,” she joked.

Leah left their bedroom and made her way across the hallway to Sage’s, the cold floorboards creaking as she walked down across them. The blonde flicked the hallway light on before opening Sage’s door, the light reflecting into the room so she could see her surroundings.

“Mumma!” Sage’s voice trembled, her cheeks stained with tears, “Tummy!”

Leah’s heart broke at the sight in front of her, she hated seeing her baby girl in pain, “Oh bubba, what’s wrong? Have you got a sore tummy?”

Sage nodded, “Hurts Mumma,” She managed to mumble through tears, “Tummy hurts.”

“My poor bubba,” Leah cooed, lifting Sage up from her toddler bed. “Wanna come into Mumma and Mummy’s room?”

Sage clang to Leah’s chest, slowly nodding her head against Leah’s shoulder. Leah scooped up Sage’s favourite blanket and teddy with her spare up, her hand gently rubbing up and down Sage’s back.

She carried the toddler across the hallway, her tears slowing down as she comforted her in her arms. As she entered the bedroom, Lia’s face was instantly covered with concern about their daughter.

“What’s wrong?” Lia asked, sitting up in their bed and flicking on the lamp beside her.

“Her tummy hurts,” Leah said, dropping Sage’s teddy and blanket on the bed, “I think she might have a bug or something coming.”

Lia’s brow furrowed as she reached out to touch Sage’s forehead. The little girl’s skin felt warm, and her eyes were still puffy from crying.

“Poor baby,” Lia murmured. “Let’s get her settled.”

Leah gently placed Sage between them on the bed. The toddler clung to her teddy bear, its worn fur comforting against her cheek as she cuddled into Lia’s side. Lia pulled the blanket up to Sage’s chin, tucking her in snugly.

Whilst Lia comforted Sage, Leah left the room to get some medicine. After a little while Leah returned with a bottle of kids medicine, she measured out the correct dosage before handing the syringe to Lia.

“Can you take this for Mummy?” Lia cooed, brushing Sage’s blonde hair away from her face.

Sage shook her head, burying it more in the crook of Lia’s neck, “No, yucky!”

Sage’s refusal was unwavering. She clung to Lia, her tiny face scrunched up in defiance. Leah exchanged a knowing look with Lia, both mothers determined to find a solution.

“Bubba, it’ll make you feel so so much better!” Leah tried to persuade the three year old.

“No!” She shook her head once again, “Yucky, not nice!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Lia said softly, placing a kiss on Sage’s forehead. “How about this, you take the medicine for Mummy and Mama and later on we can watch a movie during breakfast, deal?”

Sage eyed the medicine as she hesitated before slowly nodding her head. Leah gently guided the syringe into her mouth, Sage’s little features screwing up in disgust as she swallowed the medicine.

As Leah carefully set the syringe down, Sage's tiny body convulsed, and before either of them could react, she vomited over the bed. Leah's heart clenched with worry. She reached for the trash can by the bedside, holding it close as Sage continued to be sick. Lia rubbed Sage's back, murmuring soothing words.

Leah gently wiped Sage's mouth with a tissue. "It's okay, bubba," she whispered. "Mummy's here."

Lia held the trash can steady as Leah slipped away to grab a cold cloth. Both of their hearts ached as they watched their baby girl throw up, tears slipping down her face.

After a while, the sickness subsided, and Sage grew tired once again. Leah took charge of changing the bedsheets, while Lia changed Sage into a fresh pair of pyjamas. They worked together silently, their love for Sage binding them even in these difficult moments.

An hour later, they all climbed into bed together, Sage cozied between them. Her little hand twirled Leah's blonde hair, seeking comfort. As the room settled down, Sage eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Leah woke up to the warm sun peeking through the curtains. She stirred first, her eyes adjusting to the soft light. She turned to find Lia still asleep, Sage was snuggled up to her chest as Lia held her close.

After Sage’s little sickness spell, they were woken up a few times by the toddler. It had been a rough night for them all, Sage couldn’t sleep due to being hot one minute and cold the next.

Leah gently slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Lia and Sage as she did so. The couple were due at training in a couple hours but with the way things were last night, Leah was unsure if they would make it to training.

Lia stirred, blinking up at Leah. Their eyes met, and Lia’s lips curved into a sleepy smile. Leah leaned down, brushing her lips against Lia’s forehead.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Morning,” Lia yawned, running her hand over Sage’s blonde hair, “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty,” Leah said, “Is she still warm?”

Lia nodded, “Yep, poor baby. What are we doing about training?”

Leah sighed, “She comes first and I think today we should just leave training, both of us have hardly slept and it wouldn’t be good for us to go when we’re running on no sleep. We can’t risk it.”

Before Lia had the chance to answer Leah, Sage began to stir. Her blonde hair was tousled from the little sleep she managed to get.

“Mumma?” Sage’s voice was soft, still heavy with sleep.

Leah leaned over, brushing Sage’s hair away from her forehead as she stretched her little legs. “I’m here bubba, how’re you feeling?”

“Yucky.” the toddler mumbled. “I’m cold, Mumma.”

Lia grabbed Sage’s blanket and wrapped her in it tightly, “Better bubs?” Lia asked, getting a nod in response from Sage.

“I’m sorry Bubba,” Leah sighed, “Are you hungry? Would you like Mumma to get you some breakfast?”

Sage nodded her head sleepily. Leah picked up Sage and carried her to the kitchen. The toddler clung to her, her tiny arms wrapped around Leah’s neck while her body was wrapped in a little blanket to keep her warm. Lia followed, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

Leah set Sage down on the kitchen side, wrapped up in her little blanket. “What would you like for breakfast, my little sunshine?”

“Pancakes please,” Sage mumbled, her voice still groggy.

Leah chuckled. “Pancakes it is, my sweet girl.” She reached for the flour and began mixing the batter, while Lia pulled out a frying pan.

Sage reached out to Lia, making grabby hands for her, “Mummy snuggles?”

“You want snuggles, bubs?” Lia cooed, picking up Sage in her blanket.

Sage clung tightly to Lia, her arms wrapped tightly around her neck while her legs wrapped around her torso. Lia walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa, Sage was now sat in her lap but she could tell she wasn’t moving anytime soon.

Sage rested in Lia’s lap, her eyes fluttering as she fought off sleep. Her fingers traced soothing patterns on the toddler’s back. “You’re safe, my little one,” she murmured. “Mummy’s here.”

While Leah made the pancakes, Lia phoned Jonas to let him know neither of them would be in today. He was disappointed, he was going to be missing two valuable players from training, but he understood that their little girl came first.

The aroma of freshly cooked pancakes filled the room, and Leah brought over a plate of pancakes for Sage.

“Want some pancakes, Bubba?” Leah asked, sitting down next to Lia.

Sage shook her head, digging her face more into Lia’s chest. Leah and Lia exchange a look, knowing it was going to be hard to get Sage to have something to eat.

Lia placed a kiss on Sage’s forehead, her voice gentle. "Sage, sweetheart, how about we make a deal? If you eat some of your pancakes, we'll let you watch a movie."

Sage's eyes brightened. "Movie?" she asked, intrigued.

Leah joined in, playing along. "Yes, whatever movie you want"

Sage hesitated, neford she nodded. "Okay, Mummy."

Leah grinned, whisking the plate of pancakes closer. "Deal."

Lia cut a small piece and held it up to Sage's lips. The toddler chewed slowly, her eyes fixed on the TV in the living room.

Leah turned the tv on, “What movie do you want to watch, bubs?”

“Punzle!” Sage mumbled.

As rapunzel played, Sage's eyelids drooped. She fought to stay awake, but the combination of pancakes and cosy cuddles was too much. Her breathing evened out, and she drifted off, her little hand clutching Lia’s top.

Leah reached for the remote, lowering the volume. “She’s out,” she whispered.

Lia moved her head back so she could see Sage’s face, “Yeah, she must be tired. I keep saying it but poor Bubba.”

Leah pulled Lia into her chest, “I’m proud of you, y’know.” She kissed Lia’s temple, “We’ve worked well as a team last night and today. It’s her first time being properly sick and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I love you,” Lia smiled, leaning up and kissing Leah’s lips, “Maybe football isn’t the only thing we’re good at doing together.”

Leah chuckled, “I love you too, there’s many many things we’re good at together.”

As the sound of the movie enveloped the room, Leah and Lia found themselves sinking into the cushions of the couch. Their eyelids grew heavy, and the warmth of Sage's little hand still rested on Lia's chest.

Leah shifted closer to Lia, their fingers entwining the other side of Lia’s body. The TV screen blurred, the fall and rise of Sage's breaths being the only thing that they were able to hear.

In that quiet moment, Leah and Lia’s breathing synchronised, and the world outside faded away. The room held them, as sleep claimed them one by one.

[aziraphales-library]

Do you have any fics where one or both of them lose their memory? I love those kinds of fics!

We have plentiful #memory loss and #amnesia tags, so check those out for loads of fics! Here are a few more to add...

Your face is like a melody by Primroza (T)

Crowley accidentally takes over the bookshop. His new routine is interrupted by amnesiac Aziraphale returning. Crowley is determined to help him even though he knows Aziraphale will leave him again as soon as he remembers. *** “Oh my, I do apologize!” Aziraphale says. “I did not mean to startle you.” “Ngk,” says Crowley. He isn’t sure what’s the protocol for when the love of your life walks back into your life after rejecting you. But he sure as Hell knows that clumsily climbing out from under the armchair is a bad start.

The Clue (Love Is in the air) by Bildadthebaddie (G)

Archangel Aziraphale only had memories that go back a few weeks, or maybe months? Years? He doesn't know. He doesn't really know much- like who that stranger on the bench is, or why Heaven are checking up on him so often- but he knows that London is filled with an overpowering feeling of love

Shipwrecked, with no memory of who we were before by RCReveal (M)

Our two ineffable ones wash up on an island with no memory of who they were. Some fluffy fluff to watch them fall in love yet another time and maybe find themselves in a whole new way.

Far Away, Long Ago Glowing Dim as an Amber by guessimdemoms (G)

Anthony J Fall is a humble plant shop owner in a seaside English town with no memory other then being found by his friends (and shop mates) four years ago and nothing to his name but his plants, his shop, and an old copy of Pride and Prejudice with a ripped photo of a magician inside. One day, Anthony gets commissioned to provide the flowers for a wedding in Soho and when he arrives gets swept into a plan that not only is meant to help him regain his memory, but also stop the second coming.

Your Other Half by anyofmany (T)

Crowley is sent to the dungeons of Hell to execute a captive angel -- who stalls him with an absolutely insane story about averting the Apocalypse and a grand romance between the two of them. Hell's just taken Crowley's memory of it all as part of their punishment. How can Aziraphale gain Crowley's trust when everything about the truth is too fantastic to believe? Can he trust who Crowley is without any of the best memories of his life? And what will it take to save them both?

Strangers Again (patria sine memoria) by D_A_Cullum (M)

Months after Armageddon failed, Crowley stops by the bookshop to find its owner a stranger with no memory of him. The history is all there, from the garden to Tadfield, but Crowley isn't. He will have to start over with the angel while carefully sifting the past for clues as to what happened to his friend, and how it might be undone. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is ordered to get close to the demon who sauntered into his bookshop, to find out what he can about Hell's plans to restart Armageddon. That task is made all the more difficult as London falls under strict lockdown procedures. When Crowley defends him against a reconstituted Duke Ligur, Aziraphale begins to question the narrative he's been told. Now, as uneasy allies, they face whatever Heaven and Hell conjure for them. But will Crowley survive their future together, one where he remembers what Aziraphale cannot?

- Mod D

[sinnabum45]

Wright family 💕

[Image description: gray tone digital comic of Ace Attorney characters, Phoenix Wright and Trucy Wright. Page one: Trucy is 8 years old and she peaks into the kitchen to see Phonix slumped over the table with alcohol around him. He is crying and she watches from behind the wall. She moves away and starts crying, too. Text: “Daddy… Daddy is sad again…” Page two: Trucy looks up and clenches her fist with a determined look on her face. Text: “ I have to help Daddy become happy again! I will help daddy, then he won’t leave me!” She silently cheers with her arms up. Time passes and Trucy is fourteen. She is holding a wine bottle that Phoenix had hidden. Page three: Trucy looks at the bottle with sadness while Phoenix looks away feeling guilty. There are double boxes for the texts: “I’m sorry… I’m not good enough.” Page four: the comic is now fully colored. Time passes and Phoenix is putting his attorney’s badge onto his suit. Trucy is looking at him smiling. Phoenix turns to her and smiles back. Page five: Trucy hugs Phoenix with tears in her eyes. Phoenix hugs her back and is now crying. He says,” I’m sorry, Trucy… Daddy’s put you through a lot.” Page six: Phoenix and Trucy and smiling at each other with tears in their eyes. There are double bubbles with texts: “I love you.” End description.]

Links to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (palestine flag). End plain text.]

I have a lot of thoughts about the Wright family. Especially Trucy's experience being adopted suddenly after her father abandons her. I wanted to go into more detail about how the events in her life might have affect her, but that would've been very long-- I rarely see anyone bring it up (I could just not be seeing them of course). Her father abandoning her, then having to move in with a stranger (at first), then having to also live with and depend on Phoenix, who is struggling with his mental and physical health, and also being used by both of her dads in a way (making her turn in falsified evidence, help cheat for gambling, etc.). Also the fact that her mother disappeared and her bio dad literally getting murdered. There's so much more that happens to Trucy like-- BRUH give her a break 😭 I just feel like maybe these reasons are why she comes off like she has to shoulder a lot of responsibilities even though she is a child. She kind of takes on the parental role of scolding Phoenix when he drinks.

Of course, I don't blame Phoenix for struggling since he was also going through shit. I just also feel for Trucy as well 😢 Not every family is perfect, which is why I like how their family is portrayed! Even though they're struggling, they still know that they love each other and can depend on each other. It's still not fair to Trucy that she has to live/deal with the adults around her's mistakes and choices. I feel like she has a lot of trauma to unpack and heal from. I think that's also important to remember as well. Phoenix may not have been the best dad, but he tries and they love each other so much 😭🤲💕💕 I just love their dynamic. Especially how quick Phoenix just jumps into the father role 🥺