#this has been bothering me for almost twenty years

[bambamramfan]

Discourse knows, there have been too many articles in the UMC publications about polyamory, and I apologize for adding to the bonfire of think pieces. At least this one linked above is less obnoxious than most of them.

(The most obnoxious one is referenced in this article, the Atlantic piece saying that polyamory is bourgeois identity politics distracting from material change.)

And what gets me is that for a bunch of supposed Marxists decrying how polyamory is just cultural superficiality irrelevant to the superstructure of material conditions.... none of them can bother to write a Marxist analysis of polyamory! It's just throwing different names at each other, no discussion of material incentives.

And it's so fucking easy to write one, isn't it. Here's our starting points:

Marriage (and the relationship models that lead to it) is an economic institution.

The change in modern polyamory fads is, like most fashion, coming from the upper-class.[1]

I think we can all agree on these basic premises, and they provide a great deal of grist for economic analysis.

For instance, the middle class in America is falling apart. Especially if you are a recent college graduate. It's easy to get an internship that might be on track to a very lucrative career, especially in a big city. It's a lot harder to start a stable middle-class job somewhere between the coasts. So you can't really start planning for baby until you're 30 and after 5 different careers you maybe have one that will last more than a year, and can put a down payment on a home at maybe 35. (Housing costs rising, especially in cities, has really exacerbated that.

Does this apply to everyone? No. Does it apply to more people that in the past? Big yeah. So, what does a young educated something do in their twenties and early thirties?

But the upper class - I suppose we are supposed to say upper middle class, but c'mon programmer earning $250k you're fooling no one - is booming. It's easier to enter it, especially if you're smart, than ever (note that increasing from 1% mobility to 10% mobility is a big change, even if on the absolute scale it's still unfair.)

Polyamory - or extramarital sex - has always been popular among the rich. Because marriage isn't really an economic necessity for them. If a couple splits, well there's enough money to go around for all the kids to live in nice houses. Mormon bigamy flourishes when a male breadwinner is so ultra-successful they can support for 5 wives, and geek group poly houses flourish when one systems engineer can pay for the whole house on their own too (maybe there's one kid everyone chips in babycare for in the house, but no one is even thinking about enough children in the group house for a fertility rate close to 1:1.)

So if you cut out the ladder from the middle-class-monogamy path, and widen the highway for upper-class-laissez-faire-culture, then cultural norms are gonna flow from the former to the latter.

The thing about relationship norms that makes the change really noticeable is their NETWORK EFFECTS. Being the only polyamorous person in a monogamous community is basically irrelevant, right? Who you gonna date? Similarly if you are in an entirely polyamorous community, my sympathies if you happen to be monogamous and so everyone you want to date has incompatible norms.

But once you start getting away from the edges, they S-curve up real fast because there's finally the option to try the minority relationship style, and for the agnostics who are okay poly or mono, they start seeing people they think are cute in the other camp, and hey, why not try it out.

So combine the collapse of the middle class, the proliferation of upper class hedonism, and network effects and a poly-explosion seems almost inevitable, doesn't it?

...

Of course, I haven't presented any hard evidence, this marginal change at most applies to less than double digits percentage of the populace, and this isn't even how the story feels from inside my head (as a poly converted person.)

But it was. At least. An attempt. To do. Materialistic analysis!

Why are all published Marxists so bad at this.

--

[1] Polyamory, or extreme family/relationship/household flexibility has always flourished in the underclass. But the NYT isn't going around interviewing trailer parks in Appalachia to ask them about their exciting new lifestyle.

[readingrobin]

Fairy tale nerds of Tumblr I need your help.

I've been trying to find a fairy tale for AGES, this has been almost a decades long quest. I first read it in a Highlights magazine around the mid 2000s, when the theme was "Fairy Tales from around the World." Now I don't know if this is actually an older fairy tale or just one that was made up for the magazine masquerading as a story from somewhere else. I've done my own research and have come up zilch.

So, this story was about a prince that was cursed to be a wolf until he was able to bite a bride the night of her wedding. Well, it just so happens that such a woman is riding through the forest with her new beau, a very uncouth man that calls her his "little chicken." Long story short, a pack of wolves waylay their carriage, the wolf prince bites the lady, becomes human again, and they fall in love and marry.

And what happened to her original husband?

Well naturally he gets turned into a chicken and they eat him at their wedding feast.

Classic.

if anyone knows the title of this fairy tale or where it may have originated, please let me know! I'd love to see if I can read it again.

[meatriarch]

im still on my fuckshit but when i think of cc maria ( by extension also nosy maria but specifically noting the isolation aspect of cc );

can you imagine one day skimming the paper. its been a few weeks since all the commotion knowing your friends' had attempted to come find you but then were chased off. never actually heard or saw any of them, but you know they were around.

but you've been moved from the cells to a mattress upstairs. you're given more freedom, more wiggle room, you're allowed to do things - little hobby-type activities - you're given better foods, you're looked after by the older woman at the other house. the man who took you, who terrifies you still to some degree, slowly doesn't feel like such a stranger anymore, you're right to still be cautious around him but as the days, the weeks, pass by, there's simply a different air about him, and in the shack. lighter, in a sense.

you find yourself growing used to the new daily - the new routine. of waking to the sound of him getting ready for the day, of being left alone in there for hours sometimes, others trailing after him like a duckling, around the older womans' property, helping with an array of tasks. and you worry about upsetting her at first, unsure if doing so will earn a knife to the throat. you listen, you do as you're told, you find some kind of way to co-exist - all the while still, in the back of your mind, there's still a ray of hope,

that maybe, maybe, since the rest of them got away - that they're merely licking their wounds, that they'll get word out and even with all the silence since they had been on the property, there's that shred of hope that maybe? someone will waltz in, guns blazing so to speak, and you'll get out of this hell finally.

that is, until that day - that you're skimming through the paper, and you recognize yourself in a little column - and you realize you're staring at your own fucking obituary.

and in that moment everything seems solidified.

you're never getting away.

there's no point in it.

there's no one out there who are still trying to find you, get you back, bring you home, back to your mothers' arms, back to being an older sister, back to the circle of friends you loved so dearly.

you're dead.

not just to the world, but to those you loved - those who claimed to have loved you, too.

what else do you have at that point? where else do you go, even if you still tried to leave? who wouldn't look at you sideways for the blood that's already stained your hands? for the flesh caught between teeth?

who else is there, except the one murmuring encouragement and praise in your ear?

the only constant you've had in all these weeks? whose words rang true - clearly - that no one cared? that they abandoned you? left you there, didn't even care to make sure you were alive or not? only thought of themselves and got the fuck outta there without confirming if you were even still alive.

[meatriarchived]

i did not sleep yay for me im still on my fuckshit but when i think of cc maria ( by extension also nosy maria but specifically noting the isolation aspect of cc );

can you imagine one day skimming the paper. its been a few weeks since all the commotion knowing your friends' had attempted to come find you but then were chased off. never actually heard or saw any of them, but you know they were around.

but you've been moved from the cells to a mattress upstairs. you're given more freedom, more wiggle room, you're allowed to do things - little hobby-type activities - you're given better foods, you're looked after by the older woman at the other house. the man who took you, who terrifies you still to some degree, slowly doesn't feel like such a stranger anymore, you're right to still be cautious around him but as the days, the weeks, pass by, there's simply a different air about him, and in the shack. lighter, in a sense.

you find yourself growing used to the new daily - the new routine. of waking to the sound of him getting ready for the day, of being left alone in there for hours sometimes, others trailing after him like a duckling, around the older womans' property, helping with an array of tasks. and you worry about upsetting her at first, unsure if doing so will earn a knife to the throat. you listen, you do as you're told, you find some kind of way to co-exist - all the while still, in the back of your mind, there's still a ray of hope,

that maybe, maybe, since the rest of them got away - that they're merely licking their wounds, that they'll get word out and even with all the silence since they had been on the property, there's that shred of hope that maybe? someone will waltz in, guns blazing so to speak, and you'll get out of this hell finally.

that is, until that day - that you're skimming through the paper, and you recognize yourself in a little column - and you realize you're staring at your own fucking obituary.

and in that moment everything seems solidified.

you're never getting away.

there's no point in it.

there's no one out there who are still trying to find you, get you back, bring you home, back to your mothers' arms, back to being an older sister, back to the circle of friends you loved so dearly.

you're dead.

not just to the world, but to those you loved - those who claimed to have loved you, too.

what else do you have at that point? where else do you go, even if you still tried to leave? who wouldn't look at you sideways for the blood that's already stained your hands? for the flesh caught between teeth?

who else is there, except the one murmuring encouragement and praise in your ear?

the only constant you've had in all these weeks? whose words rang true - clearly - that no one cared? that they abandoned you? left you there, didn't even care to make sure you were alive or not? only thought of themselves and got the fuck outta there without confirming if you were even still alive.

[notafunkiller]

tying you to me

Summary: When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.

Pairing: boss!Bucky Barnes x marketing director!female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, sir kìnk, breasts insecurity, protected séx, bøndage, a little degrading, praising kìnk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s well aware he went too far. He noticed right when he finished talking and took a look at you, but what is said is said. And the last thing he wants is Steve annoying him about the meeting.

“I don’t question the way you deal with employees, do I?” Bucky snaps, tired and really wanting this day to be over.

“What has gotten into you? What bothers you so much about her? I just don’t get it.”

Bucky sighs deeply, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration. “It’s not just one thing,” he mutters, his tone weighed down by a mix of tiredness and anger. “It’s a culmination... She’s fucking impossible.”

“Bucky, I get you’re upset, but taking it out on her isn’t fair. She did an incredible job, but you didn’t even listen to her. What’s really going on here?”

“I feel like she’s not seeing the bigger picture. We disagree constantly, and it’s making things difficult. Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been building up for a while.” Bucky leans in as he speaks, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His voice carries an edge that Steve notices immediately. He knows there is something about you that affects Bucky, but he can’t quite put the finger on it. Ever since he hired you, Bucky’s been angry with him too, which has happened only two or three times over twenty years of friendship.

“I can see this is really affecting you, Buck. If there’s something personal or if my decision to bring her on board has caused you any discomfort, talk to me. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between us.”

He leans back a bit, surprised. “Personal? No, it’s not… it’s not about that,” he stammers, searching for the right words. There’s a subtle shake of his head, almost as if he’s trying to dismiss his own thoughts. He wishes there was a personal connection so badly that it messes with his head…

“Then what is it? I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I know you hate when things are not under your control, but I made the right call to hire her. And you were really unfair to her, look,” Steve waves around as he speaks, and Bucky turns to look at you through the glass door. You’re still there… working. “She’s not just smart and creative, but also ambitious and hard working. I know how much you value this as well.”

“I didn’t mean to come off unfairly. It’s just…” Bucky sighs, moving to shift his gaze back to Steve. “Our ways clash, and it’s hard to manage it. I value her skills, but finding a middle ground seems impossible sometimes.”

“Look, Buck, I understand it’s tough, but it’s important to listen to her ideas too,” Steve responds, his voice carrying a firm yet empathetic tone. “Today? You didn’t even look over the outlines. Try giving her ideas a chance or just suggest new things without trashing all of her work. You’d be offended too.” He pauses, and Bucky’s focus is back on you. His eyes narrow slightly, studying your determined expression as you delve into whatever you are working on that he dismissed today. And for a few seconds a pang of guilt flickers across Bucky’s expression, which Steve immediately catches. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand it’s not easy to step back and apologize, but it’s not about who’s right or wrong. And, to be honest, you were wrong anyway. It’s about ensuring a healthy workplace.”

“I appreciate your perspective, Steve,” he begins with a calm voice. “But I don’t think it would make a difference.” His gaze briefly flickers towards you before returning to Steve.

“Trust me, it’ll make a difference, not just for her but also for the team. Give it a shot.” Steve smiles, patting him on the chest before standing up. “I’ll leave you to it. It’s so late.”

“Alright, lovebird, off to your nest?” Bucky teases. “Natasha’s waiting for her captain. Better not keep her waiting too long.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, someone’s got to keep the romance alive around here. Good night.”

“Night...”

*

The audacity of this man is unbelievable. After all that shit he pulled on you today, he has the nerve to order your food! He’s the reason why you’re still working at eight pm instead of lying on your couch.

You are so close to crying out of exhaustion and anger, but you won’t give him this satisfaction. And you won’t eat his food.

“Are you seriously gonna starve yourself?”

“I’m not hungry,” you retort, your voice sharper than intended as you give him an annoyed look.

Bucky’s expression softens instantly, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Come on, you’ve been working the whole day” he insists, trying to reason with you. “You need to eat something. Did you even drink water?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Look, I-”

“If you don’t like Pizza, I can grab you something else.”

You raise your hand, waving around. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ll eat something when I get home.”

The idea of accepting anything from him like this feels wrong. You don’t want his pity.

“Stubborn as ever,” he sighs, muttering under his breath, and you look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension lingering from earlier.

What did Steve tell him to make him actually try to have a decent conversation?

“Look, sir,” you say through your teeth. “I don’t want your pity. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need to finish this.”

“This isn’t about pity.” His tone is firm. “You’re exhausted, and I’m just trying to help.”

“I said I’m fine. I’ll be done with these.” You lift your papers to emphasize. “And get home.”

“You’re not fine!” he shoots, surprising you. “And you’re too stubborn to see it!”

You’ve never seen him screaming before. Even when he is angry, he’s always the silent type.

“Don’t you dare!” you fire back all of a sudden, unable to hold back. If you’ll get fired, at least you should speak your mind properly. You can’t take more of this. He can’t step on you without consequences. “You are the reason why I am here anyway. Don’t play the concerned hero, just take your food and eat it...” You pause for a second before sarcastically adding. “Sir.”

“This isn’t just about the food, is it?” Bucky’s voice softens slightly despite his impulse to raise his voice again. “It’s about the meeting.” You keep looking him in the eyes, not denying the obvious. Of course it’s about the meeting. “Look, I am sorry, I know I should have handled things differently, but I’m trying to make it right.”

“You think a wannabe apology and food make everything okay?” You ask bitterly, standing up. “You humiliated me, Mr. Barnes. You didn’t even hear me out, you didn’t even listen to my ideas, what the team and I managed to do in the last few months. You disrespected them too! And I don’t get it...” You hate how tall he is. How perfectly his suit is ironed. How nice his hair is. Fuck him! “Ever since Steve hired me, you refused to communicate with me. It’s like you have decided who I am and what I’m worth without even giving me a chance, without acknowledging my efforts and results!”

“That’s not true,” he begins, trying to defend himself even though you both know you are right. “I made a mistake, I admit it, but I want to fix it.”

“A mistake?” You laugh humorlessly. “For months you’ve been treating me like shit, excuse my language.” You shake your head. “Actually I don’t. You should be the one apologizing! You look at me as if I am a scum, as if my presence bothers you. I come to you only when I have to, and you act as if I want to waste your time. Well, I wasted mine for months in this company. With you!”

Bucky snaps, feeling the frustration taking over him. “My decisions are based on what’s best for the company. It’s nothing pers-”

“That’s just a bullshit excuse to maintain the status quo!” you interrupt him, the tension escalating. You don’t care about this job anymore. Whatever will happen, let it happen. “You’re a stuck-up asshole, resistant to change and blind to new perspectives! My perspectives only, to be clear.” You see him clenching his jaw before his left hand covers his jaw. Oh, he’s angry. Good! “And it’s not even out of misogyny since you get along just fine with Shuri. So what is it? What is it, Mr. Barnes, that makes you hate me?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, his voice strained with the effort to keep calm. “It’s about maintaining stability. It’s about-”

“Bullshit! You’re threatened by anything that challenges your authority! You’re just frustrated and insecure. You’re scared that someone else can do better things in their own way. You’re just a tyrant! I don’t know how Steve is friends with you. He’s such a great man, and you’re a dick.” You laugh. “God, I wanted to tell you this for so long. And if it’s not clear, I fucking quit!”

You’d smile widely if it wasn’t for his snort.

“You’re not quitting,” Bucky’s voice is low, but you still hear it.

He doesn’t believe you, clearly. But he will because you’re not joking or backing off. You can’t take another humiliation session, especially when you did nothing to deserve it. As much as you admire Bucky’s intelligence and company policies, he’s a fucking douchebag. To you.

“Watch me,” you retort instantly. Your heart starts racing as he takes another step toward you. He’s so close that you only need to get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“No, you’re not quitting. And you’re not walking out that door until we settle this.”

“Settle what, Barnes? Your ego?” You try to maintain your composure, but the closeness makes it hard for you to focus.

He sighs, and your eyes find his lips again. They are pink and wet from his tongue. If only he was less of an asshole and not your boss, maybe you would...

“This isn’t just about me and my authority.”

“Then what is it?” You're confused.

“It’s about you challenging everything I’ve built here,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes.

“And you can’t handle that?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, but for once he doesn’t focus on that.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple, Mr. Barnes.”

“I... I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deal with this... with you.”

“Deal with me?” You puff. “You’re insufferable, I am the one who has to deal with you and your constant checkups. With your: that’s not good enough, that needs to be changed, do this, do that over and over again.” You mimic his patronizing tone. “You don’t give me real suggestions-”

“I just... struggle with change.”

“And I’m the change you can’t handle?” The question hangs heavy between you, and his eyes drop to your lips this time.

“You challenge me,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper. “You and your crazy ambition, your undying dedication, and your incredible ideas...” He pauses just to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at you.”

“Suffocating?” You roll your eyes. “How am I suffocating you? Just because I have an opinion and give you arguments-”

“I am fucking attracted to you, woman!”

You shake your head. He cannot just pull this lie and expect you to fall for it as if you are dumb. “Yeah, sure. Can you be a man for once and fucking take responsibility for your real thoughts and feelings? Just admit that you hate me!”

“Jesus Christ, are you that blind? For a woman so perceptive, you surely don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

You feel the anger take over your whole body. “Fuck you!”

“I wish! This is the whole point, the whole fucking point...”

“You want to fuck me for real?” You gasp, surprised and take a step back so you can look at him properly. He doesn’t seem to be joking.

“Deadly serious. And no matter how many times I tried to push this desire away, it just doesn’t work. You suffocate me. I imagine taking you all over my desk and couch. I imagine so many things, and I cannot focus.”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap him on the face lightly. Your palm is itching and gets red instantly, but you don’t care. As much as the info makes you happy, the context makes you super angry.

“So my team and I had to be humiliated just because you’re mad you want to get laid?”

“W-what? No!”

“No?”

“No. I deserved that,” he says referring to the slap. “But I meant what I said earlier. These are separate things.”

You cover your face with both your hands, not knowing what to say. What can you say? What should you think?

“I am sorry,” he sighs, and you hear him slowly walking away from you. “I should have said nothing. I am sorry. Please, don’t quit. You won’t have to work with me or even see me after this. Steve can take over, and you like him. I apologize not only for this, but also for my lack of… skills. I should have been more open to your ideas. And about tonight, I will wait for the HR email. I am sorry once again.”

Your head is spinning with all the things he’s just said. He wants you, but he’s also a bitch who cannot handle other opinions.

But you also want him. And you’ve wanted him despite how annoying he was. And he’s genuinely apologizing.

“Fuck it,” you whisper before going straight to him, pulling him by his tie toward you to kiss him.

He doesn’t hesitate at all, bringing his hands to your ass so you can feel each other better as he deepens the kiss instantly.

You shamelessly try to thrust your hips up a little as you let go of his tie, and his tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. His moan is low and hot, but you don’t let him breathe more than a second before you kiss him again, making sure to grab his hair and pull with force.

“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me right fucking now.”

He groans in your mouth once again, and you shiver.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you so well you won’t remember or think about anything else but my cock for days.” You instantly drop your hands so you can reach for his pants. Unbuckling them isn’t hard, but the zipper gets a little stuck, so Bucky has to finish the job for you.

“God, James,” you moan at the sight. “You’re leaking.”

He’s not embarrassed by this at all. On the opposite, he grabs his briefs too and pulls them down, letting them fall along with his pants.

You’re staring, but you can’t help it. His cock is so hard, and it even twitches as he grabs it to show it to you. It’s so thick.

“For you. This is all for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabs your shirt by the front placket and rips it in two. The buttons fly everywhere, one almost hits him in the face, but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. He’s so hot!

“Oh god, James,” you whisper, unclasping your bra before he can destroy it. It’s your best one, and you still need it.

“Yes,” he groans at the sight of your breasts, but you cannot ignore the wave of self-doubt that takes over you. They’re a little bigger than they should be for your height, so the sight is not the prettiest, in your opinion. This has always been an insecurity of yours, and even more after your last boyfriend made sure to emphasize this before you broke up. But Bucky seems fascinated. With his eyes glued to them and his mouth semi-open, he leans in, bringing his hands to both of your breasts before cupping them. You get goosebumps as he folds them eagerly, and you hear him groan when they spill over as soon as  he tries to pull them together.

“James!”

But it’s like he can’t hear you, too engrossed in watching your nipples hardening even more, and before you tell him what you wanted to, you feel his wet mouth sucking in one of your nipples.

You’re taken aback, so he uses his gloved hand to make you stop moving by placing it on your waist firmly.

He’s suckling at this point, making low whimpers as he’s looking at you.

You swear you never saw a more beautiful man in your whole life. His blue eyes are hypnotic.

“F-fuck,” you curse, bringing your fingers to his hair. You need to grab something before you fall.

He switches to the other nipple, and you feel yourself throbbing. You need his cock so much. You need his mouth... you need him to make you come. And you want to do the same to him. He’s driving you crazy.

“F-fuck me! RIGHT NOW.” You’re screaming, but he’s not surprised, rather amused as he takes his mouth off your breasts with a pop.

“Easy there, you sound quite desperate,” he giggles as if he’s just made the funniest joke ever. You are desperate.

“Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, and you won’t be able to touch me as I do. Your choice.”

You know he doesn’t like or do ultimata, but you have no alternative. You crave to be taken on his desk as hard as he can go.

“How can I fuck you if you still have your pants on?” He asks you extremely calmly, and you’re shocked. You expected a more... intense reaction. “Earth to you?” He waves his hand when he sees you zoning out.

“You didn’t take them off.”

“I don’t take your clothes off, love.” He smirks. “I rip them, so if you want them intact, you better do it yourself.”

You nod, enjoying how raspy his voice is, and take them off without looking away from his cock. Not that he could stop staring at your breasts. His eyes are glued to your nipples. Your underwear falls, and only when you step out of the pool of clothes and finally free your legs from the high heels, he brings his hand to your pussy.

“Oh God, look at this… drenched!”

You moan, moving a little into his palm as if you’re trying to ride it. You need him so badly.

“James-”

“I know.” He smiles, spreading your lips more. “I know. So needy, my poor baby needs her cock so she can relax.”

You whimper loudly as you close your eyes. “Take me, sir. Make me your little fuck toy. Take out your frustrations. You can... you can show me how I was wrong for quitting by fucking me until I feel your cock every time I walk. I need to,” you moan again as you keep grinding onto his hand. “Come on! Show me!”

Bucky’s eyes get so grey as he suddenly pulls his hand away, making you whine. You’re about to curse him, but what he does makes you stop. He starts to take off his tie quickly, and you smile.

“Good boy.”

That remark makes his snort, and he cryptically replies:

“Ah, ah, we’ll see about that later.”

“Take off that shirt faster, and your glove, too.”

That surprises him, his eyes immediately widening, so you decide to do it yourself since he’s not fast enough.

He freezes as soon as you pull off his glove, revealing a black with golden accents  prosthetic hand.

“This is so fucking pretty, oh my God! Why do you keep this hidden?” You turn his hand around, and you gasp, realizing what you’ve just said. “I am sorry if I seem insensitive, it’s just that...”

Bucky snorts, amused, not hurt, which makes you feel like you can breathe again. The last thing you wanted was to bother him.

“You got a kink for my arm now?”

“You talk too much,” you murmur at the same time you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. Your hands are trembling.

When he’s finally naked, you let out a whimper, instantly reaching to touch his chest with both of your hands.

“You shave,” you say, surprised.

“Come on, love.” He smiles. “Touch my arm while you still can.”

You don’t question what he means by that, not wanting to worry too much. You expected this to be a one-time thing anyway, so you better enjoy every second of it. The arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, and it's colder than the rest of his skin.

You trace a gold pattern all the way from his shoulder to his hand.

“I have a kink now,” you giggle when you see the sides of his neck getting pink.

“Well, I hope you have this kink, too, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches for the tie he had on today and smiles. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“W-what?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“You want to tie my hands?” You ask, taken aback by his demand.

“Did you try it before? Do you hate it?”

No, you didn’t try, but it doesn’t sound bad, surprisingly.

You usually hate not being in control, but it’s Bucky, and as annoying as he might be as your boss, you trust him. Plus, you quit after all, you should enjoy this as much as possible. The thought of him tying you up is really sexy for some reason, so you simply turn around and bring your hands together above your ass.

He doesn’t hesitate and quickly makes a knot.

“Too tight?”

“No,” you whisper. It’s not tight at all.

“You can tell me to stop any time, okay?” He wraps his hands around your waist and turns you toward him. “I’ll stop immediately.”

You nod, trying to get used to not being able to raise your hands.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, James.”

“Good girl.”

You’d lie if you said it doesn’t turn you on like crazy. You’ve been indirectly fighting with him for so long without getting any kind of approval or praise for your work. He made you angry and stressed more times than you could count, but you still respected him. You wanted his approval and you craved him...

You got yourself off thinking about him, you imagined choking him out of anger, but then it turning into a completely different thing. And it feels surreal this is actually happening, and he finally calls you a good girl.

“Are you clean? Anything-”

“I always used a condom, and I do checkups every six months. I assume the same about you.”

You nod, not bothering to tell him you don’t remember the last time you had sex, all thanks to him and his impossible to please ass.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask, moving closer to him again.

“In the car,” he curses, but before you can tell him that you can try without one since you are on the pill, he speaks again. “Wait!”

You giggle as you watch him run out of the office with his ass wiggling. No way he goes to his car naked, right?

You jump on top of his desk, pushing a few docs on the floor with your knee. It’s quite difficult because your hands are tied, but you don’t mind. You wait excitedly for his return just to tease him, but you’re speechless as soon as you see him unwrapping the condom package with his teeth before he quickly rolls it on.

“Won’t the neighbor mind?”

“What he doesn’t know,” he grabs your legs as he speaks. “Won’t hurt him. You’re not gonna run your mouth now, are you?” There is something about his patronizing tone that makes you hornier. Maybe because you know you’ve been on his mind so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Why? You want to keep my mouth occupied with your cock?”

You don’t expect to be turned around on the table instead, with your ass in the air. Holy fuck!

“How about I keep this pretty wet pussy of yours occupied, hmm?”

You close your eyes when you feel his cock at your entrance before he finally pushes in.

He’s crazy, he must be crazy if he thinks you can take all of his cock like this.

“B-Bucky!” You arch your back without realizing, fighting against the material of his tie so you can get free. The impulse to touch his back is absolutely overwhelming, and the coldness of his left hand drives you crazy.

“What happened?” His other hand goes up until it’s in your hair. “You got nothing else to say? Are you already cock drunk?”

“More!” you whimper. “I can take more of you, please.”

“Ah? So greedy for my cock.”

“Need it deeper, James. Need you to move faster.”

You don’t care how desperate your voice is or if you’re pathetic. “I just wanna be stretched open until I cry. P-please.”

You don’t realize he is holding his breath until you hear him exhaling loudly against your back before kissing the same spot.

“You wanna be fucked like you’re my good little toy, baby? You want-”

He stops speaking when you moan, trying to move your hands so you can touch him and push him deeper inside you by grabbing his ass.

That hot ass…

“Want you, sir. Please, make me a mess.”

And he does. He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but try again to touch him.

“Just like that,” you cry out when your face hits the desk more forcefully than before. You can sense Bucky’s hesitation so you shake your head. “I’m fine, I’m... k-keep going.”

He doesn’t stop, he even goes faster yet somehow deeper than before, a combination you’re not used to, that makes you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Neither of you can properly talk anymore. You can hear him cursing and saying your name along with: your pussy’s drowning me, so wet, think you can t-take it harder, but there is a long break after every word so he can thrust back inside you. You can’t even call him James, your voice is so hoarse, and he’s so deep you cannot even breathe.

You don’t need anything more the second he pulls your hair harder than you’d ever expect. Before you know what’s happening, the pleasure explodes inside you, making you scream. You don’t even realize that’s your voice at first, too focused on trying to prolong this feeling as you push your ass back frustrated you cannot grab his thighs, while he keeps thrusting inside you. His balls hit your clit, and you moan, a little sensitive.

“Sir, please, c-come,” you whisper, turning your head to the side on the desk. “Come for your little fuck toy. U-use me.”

You flinch, shocked, when you feel a light slap on your ass all of a sudden, but it doesn’t hurt at all. Quite the opposite. You don’t have time to say something about it, though, because Bucky’s already burying himself inside you again as deep as he can, and you moan at the same time he does.

“J-James...”

He pulls your hair even harder while he comes, groaning your name and a low fuck, that almost makes you giggle.

“Jesus...” It’s the only warning you get before you feel his chest on your back.

“Barnes, you’re heavy!”

His laugh is adorable, but he’s indeed heavy, plus you also have your hands tied. When he finally moves, you hop off the desk, almost falling since your knees are weak. Now you can feel your thighs aching too. But it was all worth it.

Quickly, Bucky unties you, without saying a word, which only makes you more nervous.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. Then, you watch him take off the condom and place it on top of one of the papers you knocked over with your knee earlier.

After wiping his hands on his thighs, he grabs your wrists gently, making you almost moan at the feel of his cold hand. You’re not hurt, but they’re quite red, probably from the times you tried to get free.

“Gonna buy some cream.”

You shake your head. “No need, I am sure I have something for this.” You try to sound as casual as you can, not wanting to be clingy in his eyes even after you quit. Even after this. “Can you hand me my underwear and pants, please?”

Bucky freezes for a second, but he still gives them to you. “Are you back to hating me?”

“What?” You ask as you start to get dressed. You don’t have the blouse, but your coat is warm. You won’t freeze.

“Why are you so cold now? Did I hurt you? Did I do anything wrong?” His concerned voice and look surprise you. You know he is nice, but you didn’t expect him to be attentive after.

“No, you didn’t. I assumed this is,” you wave around when you finish zipping up your pants. “Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

He doesn’t laugh.

“I told you, you’ve been on my mind for so long. Why would I... and even if it was just a one-time thing, why would I treat you like trash? Especially since we work together.”

“Worked,” you correct him before he hands you his shirt. You raise your eyebrow surprised.

“I’m not gonna help you get dressed, Barnes. You’re a big boy.”

“Put it on, it’s freezing.”

“I have my coat,” you protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, and you know it.

“On.”

“Fine!”

He helps you with it since your hands are, for some reason, still shaking. “Look, I was gonna invite you over to my place, but if I make you feel uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to see me...”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows.

“Really?”

“We have some things to discuss, and I have a bath to run for you.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as he finishes buttoning the shirt. “You want me to sign a contract to fuck you again?”

“Ha, ha. No.” He leans in a bit to kiss your forehead. “We have many things to talk about that don’t involve a contract.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You start to collect the documents from the floor. “The process of writing my resignation letter?”

You hear Bucky puff behind you. “You’re not quitting.”

“No?” You bite your lip as you look at him. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me.”

“Hmm,” you whisper playfully before placing his papers on the desk. “How?”

“Let’s get home and we’ll see about that.”

[ghostlygeto]

let me be your mirror | astarion

pairing: astarion x gn!tav / reader

warnings: spoilers for early romance w astarion, fluff, kind of follows canon dialogue, reader pining hard, reader is an artist this has been done with this exact scenario surely, astarion calls reader “darling”, “my sweet”, also “dove” which isn’t canon, reader and astarion aren’t really together but i mean. yeah they are. not proof read!!!!!

word count: 1.1k

you had been drawing astarion for much longer than you’d care to admit. though the dates scribbled on the bottom of each page betrayed you, exposing that you had drawn astarion close to every day for a month.

it started off innocently, you drew all of your party members when you had first met them. you were stressed and overwhelmed with your situation at hand, the tadpole snugly sat behind your eye squirming to remind you of your devastating truth: you’d soon become a mindflayer if you couldn’t find a cure. on nights you couldn’t sleep or mornings you’d woken up early, you found yourself drawing. it had always been a way you’d let off your steam, now was no exception.

when the stress of your situation died down, as did your drawings of your now friends. you had a couple day’s worth of gale and lae’zel, and probably a week of shadowheart. but astarion? it seemed every time your tool of choice hit the paper he had been the outcome.

you weren’t ashamed of it by any means. astarion is a gorgeous man, blood sucking monster or not. his eyes captivated you (as proven by the amount of drawings of them alone), and his voice had your attention like no other. if the nature of things were any different, you might be willing to confess you were in love with him.

so when the night came and everyone had fallen asleep but the two of you, and astarion had let it slip that he hadn’t seen his reflection in two hundred years, your heart broke. he didn’t know the way his curls hooked around his ears, or the way the corners of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly when he’d successfully kill a goblin. and his eyes, gods his eyes. you’d have to be dense to miss the way they light up at the very sight of you. knowing he didn’t get to enjoy the very things you adore about him devastated you.

“what color were they before?” you asked, arms wrapped tightly around your legs to hug them close to your chest. “your eyes, before you were turned.” your cheek pressed against your knee as you looked to him.

“my eyes?” astarion sounded surprised you’d asked him such a thing. “i don’t..i don’t remember.”

that felt like the final nail in your coffin. your heart ached more for him now that it had before, if that were even possible. if he didn’t remember his eye color, his hair color was probably long forgotten as well. it felt impossible to wrap your head around, you knew the shade of your eyes and tone of your hair by heart. the idea of forgetting it, well, you were sure you’d have to be dead to forget.

“what’s going on in that head of yours, darling?” his tone almost made you forget your sadness. it seemed anytime he spoke to you now his words were laced with honey, drawing you in and sticking to you.

“you haven’t seen yourself in two decades,” you repeat his previous words back to him, “you hardly remember your own face, is that not the least bit devastating to you?”

astarion hesitated before replying to you, trying to chose his words carefully. “of course it is. but there’s nothing i can do to change it, so why bother being upset?”

you chewed the inside of your cheek. of course you had the solution. you had probably close to twenty drawings of his face alone that could provide him some solace about the entire thing. but what if he thought you were weird for it? none of them knew of your little hobby, he could expose it to the others and they could cast you out for invading their privacy. and well, your infatuation toward him was nothing short of romantic. you weren’t sure he needed to know that, but exposing your drawings to him would make it clear.

“i can feel your tadpole wriggling around, what’s wrong, my sweet?” his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you finally managed to speak.

“let me be your mirror,” you offered, raising your head from your knees. you could practically see his thought process, and you didn’t miss the small smirk on his face. “what do you want to know?”

“i want to know what the world sees when it looks at me,” astarion held his usual cocky tone for a moment, but for a second it faultered. “what you see.”

“close your eyes,” he obeyed, wondering what it was exactly you were making him close them for. it wasn’t until he heard shuffling in your tent beside him that he opened them and called out to you confused.

“what are you doing? what in your tent could ever allow you to be my mirror?”

“hush, would you?” you roll your eyes at him as you step out from your shelter and back toward him. you took a deep breath before sitting back down next to him, offering him the pile of papers. “here.”

for the first time since you had met him, astarion was speechless. he wasn’t sure what he was expecting from you, maybe a few put together compliments for him to tease you about before leaving the conversation at that. but this? he had no idea that you could draw, let alone that you’d use such a talent to draw someone like him.

“i know it might be weird, sorry,” you hide your face from him, afraid of his reaction. “i’m sure it might not be comforting to know someone you had barely known until recently has been drawing you for-”

“i don’t find it weird,” he interrupted you, gently grabbing your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, “look at me,” guiding your eyes to his, astarion offered you a smile. not a cocky smile or his usual smirk, but rather a real smile. one you weren’t sure you’d seen from him before. “thank you…for this. they’re beautiful. and i…i could never express my gratitude to you,”

you removed your chin from his hold and waved your hand at him, dismissing his words. “don’t say all that astarion. you make an amazing muse, it’d be criminal of me to not make use of that.” you chose to pretend the burning in your cheeks had been from the fire and not the blooming embarrassment.

“criminal, hm?” it didn’t take long for the astarion you had grown attached to to return, smirk plastered on his face. he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours before speaking again, his voice low and almost sultry, “well we wouldn’t want you to get arrested again, now would we, dove?”

“you ruined the moment, astarion,” you huff, pulling your legs back to your chest to rest your head on your knees again. “it’s getting late. we should sleep.”

astarion nodded, standing from his place and offering you his hand to help you up. “yes, i’d hate for a lack of sleep to ruin your muse,” he teased again, handing you back your drawings. “i’ll see you in the morning, darling.”

reblogs, comments, and likes appreciated !!

[ddejavvu]

Hii, I hope you’re having great day/night. I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your Aaron writing, especially Aaron Hotchner x single mom!reader. I read your requesting rules and I hope that this qualifies (I’m really sorry if it doesn’t), but I’ve been thinking about this concept for a while so I thought I’d give it a try. I absolutely adored how reader’s child always adored Hotchner but this time I was thinking what about reader’s daughter (around 4 or 5) who actually feels intimidated by Hotch (because you know this ‘scary bossman persona’) or maybe reader’s daughter that is not the biggest fan of Hotch and is possibly very sassy with him and is protective of her mum but reader and Hotch have this slightly flirty or like the very beginning of their relationship with a possibly fluffy/happy ending if that’s possible.

You really do feel bad knocking on Hotch's office door at 7:30 in the morning, for both your sleepy daughter and your formidable boss. He's a kind man, you know that with all of your heart, but to your tiny four-year old, he's tall, mean, and scary.

"Come in," Hotch calls, his voice muffled through the door. At the sound, your daughter curls tighter into your embrace, whining pitifully through the blanket that she's wrapped around her head.

"I know, Olivia," You hum, trying to soothe her nerves, "Just for a minute. You can sit on the couch, that's all."

She squirms in your hold while you open the door, smiling hesitantly when Hotch looks up from his paperwork to find you cradling your groggy daughter.

"She's got a cold, and the sitter cancelled," You lament, "And- uh, I need to use the bathroom."

You're constantly surprised at how strongly Aaron cares for children, because someone with his scowl doesn't seem the type. But his eyes flash with worry, and he leans back from his desk in his chair, "Do you think she'll let me hold her?"

Olivia writhes in your hold, a firm no.

"It's okay," You hum, kissing her head though it helps little, "It's okay, baby, I'm gonna put you on the couch, okay? Get cozy with your blanket," You hum, laying her on the cushions before she has the chance to curl her fingers into your blouse and never let go, "And just try to sleep, I'll be back in just a few minutes, okay?"

She moans something that sounds an awful lot like 'not okay!' but you can't afford to listen, not when your bladder is making its contents uncomfortably known.

"Okay, I'll- I'll be right back," You promise Hotch, straightening your clothes that were wrinkled by your clingy daughter, "I'm sorry about this, I'll make sure she's at home tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it," Hotch urges, "Go, I'll make sure she's okay."

"Thanks," You grin, exhaustion seeping over your features after the long, nearly sleepless night you'd had. You duck out of Hotch's office with no further delay, rushing over to the elevator bay and the bathrooms on the other side of it.

"Olivia," Hotch hums after a moment of silence where the little girl tries burrowing between his couch cushions to escape his presence, "Did your mommy give you medicine already?"

She's scared, but she's still polite.

"Yes," She calls, from inside of her blanket cocoon, but there's no further response.

"Alright," Aaron hums quietly, fingers fiddling awkwardly with his pen, "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No."

'Okay. Just... let me know if you need anything, okay?" He calls, any foolish hope he'd had of connecting with the little girl seeping out of his chest when she doesn't answer.

--

Thirteen minutes. It takes you thirteen minutes to get through the line outside of the restroom, who knew this place would be so packed early in the morning? It takes you longer still to actually use the bathroom, and you're teetering on twenty minutes when you jog back up the stairs of Hotch's office to collect your sullen kid.

You don't bother knocking, too rushed to get inside and apologize for sticking Hotch with your sick, terrified toddler for almost half an hour, and to apologize to Olivia for abandoning her with the big scary man who tells you what to do all day.

But Hotch isn't displeased with your rather impolite and abrupt entrance, staying silent as he peers over the blanket hood that Olivia has fashioned for herself. She's held against his chest, her clammy face tucked against his tie. His arms hold her tight and close, and he bounces her ever-so-slightly up and down as he soothes her whiny cries.

"Your mommy's here," He hums, craning his neck down to peer at her, and you're still partially frozen in shock at seeing Olivia cradled up in the arms of the man she runs from at dinner parties, "Would you like to see her?"

Olivia's responsive whine is less-than-clear, neither a yes nor a no. But you advance anyways, eyes surely showcasing your surprise at Hotch's sudden success with your daughter. Upon closer inspection, her tiny hand is gripping his tie tightly, the way that she holds the collar of your shirt when she doesn't want you to let her go. She's all bundled up and sniffling against his chest, surely feeling the symptoms of her cold that the medicine didn't cover.

"My poor baby," You lament, leaning down to kiss her forehead. It puts your face tantalizingly close to Hotch's own, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't feeling some butterflies through your stomach at the sight of him bouncing your baby girl in his arms, "Will you come with me? We can go sit at mommy's desk, and you can go to sleep."

This time, you understand her response.

"No!" She whines, desperately burrowing further into Hotch's warm embrace, "I'm- tired!" She sobs, voice raw from crying, "I want to stay!"

Before you can figure out how to bargain her out of Aaron's arms and into your own he shushes her, leaning down to kiss her feverish temple like she's his own. The sight flips your stomach even further, and you're very glad Aaron can't read your mind at the moment.

"It's okay. You can stay here if you really want to. Are you sure?" He squeezes her to prompt a response, but the only one she gives is nodding her head and pressing her face into his tie.

"Hotch, I'm sorry-" You start, but he smiles kindly, warmly up at you.

"It's alright. I can keep her in here for a bit, if you want to get started for the day."

"But you've got work to do. And you might get sick," Your shoulders slump, because even though you're thrilled that Olivia has finally seemed to get over her Hotchnerphobia, you don't want to push your luck after being fifteen minutes late to retrieve your daughter that isn't supposed to be here in the first place.

"Easy paperwork," Hotch waves it off, smiling as Olivia readjusts her grip on his tie, "Just signatures, really. I've got time. Plus, if I'm gonna get sick, it'll probably be from Jack. He brings home germs from school all the time."

"That's their special talent," You muse, stroking a hand over Olivia's wispy hair, "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure, Y/N," Aaron nods, continuing to bounce her lightly in his arms with a fond grin while her eyes remain loosely shut, "I finally got her to like me - I'm not sure I'd be able to put her down if she did want to go with you."

[seresinhangmanjake]

Rather Be With You

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

Warnings: cursing. I think that's it.

Notes: this was inspired by an ask (💐) from a bit ago. Sorry it took so long. So much happened in the last week and a half, some good some bad, and it just got on top of me. Writing had to come second. I have probably written better in my life haha, but I tried.

Words: 1972

---

“You know he's only messing with you, right?”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands together. Surely it had been a while. For the entirety of the morning, perhaps? Rooster had made his teasing comments at seven a.m. sharp and they were due to dock at noon. Had it been that long? Or had he really managed to shove many hours worth of painful thoughts into just a few short minutes? Somehow, he figured, it was one or the other. No in-between.

When his eyes flicked up, Nat’s face seemed to hint at the former. 

It made sense, he supposed. Spending hours thinking about you wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually, though, those thoughts were a bit nicer, with you naked and smiling, laughing, or whispering sweet words to him. He liked those better than the ones that had plagued him for…well, however long he’d been sitting there.

“He knows what he said isn’t true,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have had the balls to make jokes like that if he thought they would hold any weight. Trust me, no one particularly enjoys pissing you off.”

He wasn’t pissed off, though. He was devastated at the seeds of doubt planted in his head; at the pain and insecurity that came with the twisted knife to his gut. He hated the images forced into his mind at his friend’s words; the ones of you with other men; the ones that made it terribly clear how little you considered or missed him in his absence. 

“Jake, she waited for you. I know she did.”

“Yea? How?” he asked. 

Phoenix opened her mouth quickly, just as he would have had someone asked him a few hours ago if you loved him like he loved you—ready to confirm with a smile on his face. But if made to think of the answer for more than a half-second, without the hope and giddiness fueling his enthusiasm, he realized he couldn’t actually say for sure if you loved him, just as Nat now could not say with certainty that you had waited for him. 

Her mouth closed. 

"Exactly. You don't know," he said. "It’s not like I was smart enough to ask her to be my girlfriend before we left. She has no obligation to me, so why would she have bothered to wait six months to have me when she could have anyone?"

The brunette shook her head. “I don’t believe she's like that."

Leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms, Jake just barely held himself back from a scoff. "Like what, Nat? That wouldn't make her anything other than a woman who found someone new to sleep with after the guy she was sleeping with disappeared for half a year.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I know I didn't disappear. But I’ve been gone longer than we’d been together," he said, his voice drifting as he imagined what he hadn't stopped to consider before; a nightmare that, if proven true, would cleanly snap his heart in half. "Joke or not, Rooster could very well be right.”

—

"You're overthinking,” Penny’s voice snuck in from your left. 

She reached out to take the beer glass from your hand, polished almost too clean after the twenty minutes you spent absentmindedly running a rag over it. Your mind had been too occupied with troubled thoughts to notice your unceasing drag of the dishtowel around the cylindrical shape of the glass. 

It came free from your hand with ease, and as Penny placed it back on its shelf, you spewed, "What if he hooked up with someone? What if he decided six months was too long to wait for a woman that isn't his girlfriend?” You finally faced her just to find her rolling her eyes. “He likes sex, Penny. A lot. There are plenty of willing women and he's practically insatiable."

"When it comes to you, maybe."

The tenseness in your shoulders from well-formed stress was heavy with your exhale, forcing your shoulders to fall forward and your posture to take a hit. "Penny…" you groaned.

"I'm telling you, there's no way he messed around with anyone,” she swore, leaning back against the bar. "Besides, it's frowned upon to get involved with your coworkers."

"You think that's ever stopped Jake?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side as she considered. "Ok, fair enough,” she agreed. “Once upon a time, that definitely wouldn't have stopped him. But after meeting you, he hasn't looked at another woman."

You couldn’t say that provided you with any relief. Jake had always presented as an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type of man. He wasn’t a worrier. Once something exited his periphery, it promptly left his brain, discarded with all past challenges or predicaments. And wasn’t that what you were? An obstacle? He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend for a reason. Holding on to you for more than just the night didn’t necessarily make you more special than any of the other women. Perhaps it simply made you convenient.  

"You don’t know, Penny. You’re not with him 24/7."

Penny muttered something under her breath. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple and when they dropped back to her side, the stare she shot you was imbued with determination. "Look, my bar is where Seresin used to do his "best work," as he liked to say,” she said, and you made a face. "But the only work he's been putting in since he met you has involved getting you to like him and making you happy after you two started your little…thing." 

"You may not pay attention, but I do," she practically scolded. "Now, a month ago you were excited to meet him when he got back, and then you let your thoughts get away from you and it’s fucking everything up." 

To your own shame, you couldn't deny that. So you didn't bother, rather opting to nibble on your thumbnail.

"They'll be back soon, so are you coming with me or not?"

—

He didn’t know what he was doing, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. But he felt like a heavy weight, an anchor in a sea of levity. Looking around, the men and women he’d been packed in with for the last six months were thrilled, the room sprinkled with smiles and laughs of giddiness in anticipation of having their families in their arms again. 

He didn’t have that. 

He wanted to have it, but that was fully reliant on you. Your feelings. Your wants and desires. Your plan for your future. Jake could imagine a world where he had the strength to beg to be a part of your life—to plead as desperately as if fighting for enough air to fill his lungs—but reality made that entirely out of his will and control. So he didn't shove his way forward when they made it home. He couldn't bring himself to jump in front of the others who had people waiting for them upon their return. Instead, he let them file out, his team included, until he was one of the final few to step back on dry, solid land. 

As he walked by couple after couple, family after family, his already weak composure began to crumble at its edges. The people milling around him felt like a mocking montage of the life he didn’t have. Men and women kissing their partners or spouses, hugging their children with no intent of letting go, their tears coating the ground with joy. 

Jake's chest constricted. He needed to get himself on the other side of it, but weaving through the mass of bodies proved harder than he expected. 

His shoulders bumped into theirs, his chest skimming across backs and limbs when he turned to his side to sneak through narrow openings. Little kids ran into his legs like spinning tops on the loose from their wound-up energy finally releasing, though each one quickly recovered and returned to their parents, maintaining the same level of enthusiasm they had prior to smacking face-first into a muscled calf. 

With each unintentional nudge, he apologized, but no one so much as noticed, too engrossed in their relief at making it home unscathed or in seeing their loved ones still intact. Somewhere, his teammates were doing the same. They’d found their partners, and he thought he’d found his, but his overconfidence in your feelings kept him from ensuring you were actually together. And maybe it was too late. Maybe he would have no choice but to watch you move on from him.  

Finally breaking through the edge of the crowd, Jake took his first deep breath. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his truck. He didn’t turn when rushed footsteps grew closer until they sounded as if right on his tail. 

“Jake.”

He paused and sighed. He should’ve known he would imagine your voice. Six months without that lovely sound, his only chance at hearing it being within his dreams, took its toll. It haunted him like a ghost on that ship. Of course it wouldn’t cease just because he was home.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t hear me.” There was a soft chuckle, then, “Well, at least I hope you didn’t hear me.”

He spun on his heel and was greeted with your smile. It lacked its carefree nature, instead just barely failing to conceal a twinge of nerves, but beautiful nonetheless. He couldn’t help but smile back. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps closer. 

“I came with Penny.” The roundness of your cheeks turned pink from your blush. You lightly shrugged. “I missed you.”

With those words, Jake knew Rooster was deserving of a swift smack upside the head, one he very well may deliver. You cared. You missed him, even. 

Fucking Rooster.

“Oh, I, um,” you continued, your eyes falling down to your hand. “I got you these. It feels silly now, but at the time I thought they would be nice, I guess.”

He followed your line of sight to the small bundle in your hand. Five long stems were tight in your grip, the bulbs on their ends made up of layers of silky red petals. 

"I was thinking," you swallowed hard and met his gaze, "I don't actually know if you like flowers. And if you do, I didn't know your favorite. I just picked mine." The sweet grin that returned to your face practically demanded he kiss you. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. All of you. Every little bit. 

And you weren't wrong. He hadn't had a favorite. 

He did now. 

Jake swallowed through the tightness in his throat, fighting back the stinging in the corners of his eyes. 

He didn't get gifts, and certainly not from the women he was with. But then again, with the exception of you, he hadn't chosen to be with a woman for more than a night or two in the last decade. 

"I like the yellow ones but they symbolize friendship and that wasn't really what I was going for, so I—"

"I love you.”

Your smile, your jaw, your hand, fell. "You…what?"

He let out a chuckle and reached for you. "Come here."

You didn't hesitate sliding your hand into his and he quickly pulled you to him, your chests hitting, lips meeting with an intensity that he hoped expressed even just a lick of how much he missed you. You draped your arms around his shoulders and the petals of the flowers tickled the nape of his neck. 

"Six months was too long," you whispered when you separated. 

He nudged his nose against yours. "Way too long."

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

[colie-nne]

i-c-o-n-i-c part 1

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader | instagram au

summary: what it feels like to be the most iconic yet controversial couple in the paddock.

warning: implied age gap, other than that none.

requested: yes | no - REQUESTS ARE OPEN

a/n: so uhm this is part one, planned to post the whole thing but it came to be too long so i'm separating this into two. Hope you like it!!

yourusername added to their story

(caption: hello, monaco🇲🇨)

Daily WAG updates

158,219 likes

Daily WAG updates Lewis Hamilton's new girlfriend, Y/n L/n, was seen entering the paddock for the Monaco Grand Prix qualifying sessions, three months after confirming their relationship. (photos are from Twitter and y/n's latest story: yourusername)

view all 503 comments

user a lewis girl, it's been so long omy!!!🤍

user is it true that she's younger than him

user yes! people say she's only in her early twenties user i heard she was... user OH WHAT?

user another one using the drivers for fame 🤮🤮🤮

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, mickschumacher and 1,540,965 others

lewishamilton Great race today, experienced a few mishaps but everything ended up good. Nice work coming from the team, who's always giving their best. Felt real support and love this weekend. Merci, Monaco 🇲🇨. (28/05/2023)

view all 5,978 comments

yourusername always the greatest ❤️

lewishamilton 😘 user i can't believe she got lewis to use that emoji, so cute!!! user the support he's missing has arrived

user and he has posted her....

user wanna bet that he'll drop her in a few weeks? user you do know they've been together for almost a year before going public right?

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 67,920 others

yourusername Thank you for the experience, Monaco. See you!

also, lewishamilton can i have your number? 🫣

view all 3,022 comments

lewishamilton nope, sorry ❤️

georgerussell63 no, he's already with me yourusername oh ok❤️ user not george fighting for lewis 😂

user his smile !!! and that last pic, they're so cute

user don't you guys find it weird that she's closer to george and mick's age, yet she's dating him?

user she's an adult, she knows what she's doing. user yeah, she knows how to spend his money😒

mercedesamgf1 we can give you his number in exchange for those cookies you brought last time.

yourusername sure!! great, thank you!!😊 user i like how his team likes her with lewis

Daily WAG updates

99,073 likes

Daily WAG updates Y/n L/n spotted shopping around Monte Carlo with Mercedes' Lewis Hamilton (02/06/2023)

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user and there goes his money

user her family is known in the business industry and that y/n herself is a businesswoman, i don't think she needs lewis' money tbh

user what a golddigger at such a young age

user Y/n's so pretty!! i see why lewis is with her

user yeah, she's also very sweet, cause I happen to be there when they were shopping and when I asked lewis for a picture she asked me if she could take it instead!! she also gave me that cookie his team was raving on about

user their age difference still bothers me... he's like 13 years older than her

user but they did say they met when she was 20 so nothing's wrong user i still think it's too big of an age gap

lewishamilton

liked by carlossainz55, georgerussell63 and 1,875,289 others

lewishamilton Silver in Spain 💥💥 Great work from everyone as always. Congratulations on a good race to georgerussell63 as well. Felt the support and love this weekend as well. Thank you for the team and yourusername❤️ for being there !! Some post race and after party pics (04/06/2023)

view all 4,092 comments

user the heart!!! the heart oooooo!! congrats to lewis and george!!

user the are the it couple!! very very iconic, always serving

yourusername i will always be there for you, my heart

lewishamilton as i to you user this is so sweet it's making me sick carlossainz55 now show love to my bucket hat

user the support and motivation y/n gives lewis is phenomenal, she should attend the races so we can see our man be p1 again

user why is she always with lewis?? all she does is pose around the paddock

user uhm because they're together? user they should really break up at this point. i also can't see lewis settling with someone much younger than him user are we really still talking about the age gap or you're just saying that to throw hate on y/n??

Daily WAG updates

263,259 likes

Daily WAG updates After being inactive for weeks, Y/n has made her account private. Lewis has yet made a statement after the hate thread the two has been receiving. (28/06/2023)

view all 3,178 comments

user i feel so sad for her, the fact that they had to hide their relationship for almost a year and the time they chose to public you've doubled up on the hate train. ya'll just jealous of her at this point.

user oh no!!! people be calling themselves fans of Lewis but will make his love ones go on private because of your delusional asses.

user FINALLY!!! Now, i just need the announcement that they broke up. it doesn't need to be today, tomorrow, or next week i just need it to happen.

user girl... are you sick? user no you guys are cause that girl was obviously using lewis and his money for her own gains user you guys literally bullied the poor girl into hiding.

user i wonder what lewis have to say after all this... i'm deeply sadden by the suddent course of this, nothing like i expected.

user so this is the reason she hasn;t been posting lately... hoping she'll come back when she's ready, i'll miss seeing her posts with lewis they're adorable.

[soullessdianthus]

Could we get some pervy soap or ghost 👀👀

You got me hooked on pervy Konig 🥵

A/N: Your wish has been granted. (≖⌣≖)

Warnings: cocky, playboy MacTavish who is possessive af (he has no shame), nsfw (choking?, ass slapping, exhibitionism, shower sex, masturbation, creampie, rough sex as punishment)

My requests are open for I don’t know how long (as I have a lot of work lately)! ٩(^ᗜ^)و Just please read the disclaimer (pinned post)! Send requests HERE ✉︎

✧°. John was a pretty popular guy in his school years. And he knew he was quite handsome too, so he never really complained about the lack of girl’s attention. Things got a little different when he enrolled in the British military. 

✧°. As he reached his twenties, Johnny wasn’t satisfied with teasing all these other recruits in a hall or a canteen. Especially, because it rarely ended with sex, almost never. He was a busy man with loads of obligations around the base. It could be certainly said that he changed a little and grew out of the playboy phase. 

✧°. For a while at least.

✧°. But the lack of previously mentioned intimacy almost drove him nuts. Perv!Soap was a simple man, he just needed to blow off some steam, you know?

✧°. Then one lucky day, a group of new recruits came into the training grounds and you certainly got his attention. A pretty thing that smiled to him as you walked by Sergeant MacTavish. 

✧°. Johnny felt like his veins were flooding with testosterone again, the mere sight of your curves, made his cock throb. None of the other women soldiers intrigued him so much. it had to be that innocent smile of yours.

✧°. So naturally, Perv!Soap offered you a little tour around the base, while keeping his hand on your lower back. He was just trying to be nice and give you a warm welcome, right? He seemed like a spark of joy!

✧°. He would find himself daydreaming about you, about what position he would put you in or what would he do to pull the sweetest screams out of your tight throat. 

✧°. His imagination was wild – you were just sweeping the dust to the tray while kneeling? John already was imagining you on your knees in front of him, begging for his cock, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth. 

✧°. Perv!Soap would be a bold type of man, whose intentions were crystal clear. He wanted to mark you as his as soon as possible. MacTavish couldn't bear the thought of other men laying their disgusting hands on you. He had to claim you first.

✧°. The perfect opportunity happened, when you came into the gym for a sparring session. Of course your good friend was there to train with you! Johnny invited you into a ring, before giving some advice. 

✧°. Being bigger and stronger than you, Soap made you stumble and fall more times than a fingers hand has. Yet, you kept standing up, willing to continue the sparring session. Perv!Soap enjoyed each minute he had your body within his firm grip, your front or back rubbing against him. It really riled him up.

✧°. So when he had you on the ground, laying atop of him and between his thighs in a tight chokehold, Johnny threw a couple of inappropriate jokes towards his friends who were watching the ring. They laughed and you tried to wiggle away once again.

✧°. “Hope yer gonna keep the spirit, bonnie. I like ‘em feisty.” He whispered into your ear, when your throat was being suffocated with his bicep. You struggled again, letting out a whine and a huff. Such an innocent sound, however it got John’s cock almost hard. You felt it digging into your lower back. 

✧°. Perv!Soap would make clear that you already belong to him. If some unfortunate soul dared to look at you in the wrong way, MacTavish would pin them to the wall and threaten them. Or, in a worse case scenario, he would just punch the wretch’s jaw or nose. Hard. 

✧°. Furthermore, when crossing him in the hallway, Soap wouldn’t bother with decency. If he had a desire to smack your plump ass, he wouldn’t hesitate. John would smile to himself, if he managed to pull a loud gasp out of you, when his strong palm struck your bum.

✧°. Perv!Soap’s confidence would only boost if he ever made you flustered. Which was often. With previously mentioned slaps or dirty words whispered into your ear. 

✧°. “Oh, bonnie. Let me fuck yer pretty tits, eh?”

✧°. “Good lass, learnin’ fast, aren’t we? Got me wonderin’, what else can I teach ya?” 

✧°. When it came to drinking outside the base, after a successful mission let’s say, Soap would rather sooner than later pull you into his lap. His thighs were more comfortable than a cheap chair and this way he could watch over you. 

✧°. Because he was a good friend and didn’t want anybody to throw a pill into your drink, right? Johnny called it a “scary dog privilege” when you sat at his thighs. But to be honest, for him it was a power move. Everyone else from your group acknowledged how protective Soap was over his girl.

✧°. Perv!Soap would sneak into your shower cabin and shush your loud gasp, before anyone could hear. He placed his big palm against your lower jaw and placed a finger over his lips. You were so cute, when you tried to cover your modesty, even now when both of you were completely naked. 

✧°. “Ya gotta help me, bonnie. I’ve got a problem.” John said to you, pointing at his painfully hard cock. Your face turned bright red.

✧°. “Now? Someone might hear us!” You yelled at him, keeping the whispering tone. Slowly your hand that was covering your breasts, loosened up and rested at the side of your body. Fuck it, he already seen enough. 

✧°. “Sh, sh, sh. Don’t ya worry, I’ll be quiet, eh?” 

✧°. Petrified or willingly, you allowed him to guide your smaller hand over his throbbing length. Soap stood close to you, his chest brushing against your perky nipples as the stream of warm water ran down your curves and his toned muscles. 

✧°. Perv!Soap showed you how to stroke him and where to squeeze him. As he predicted you were in fact a fast learner. Quickly you understood how he wanted to receive a handjob and you complied, encouraged by his hand sneaking to the side of your face. The other one was playing with your nipples. 

✧°. Sergeant was breathing heavily, huffing into your face just below his. He was getting closer, faster than ever before. You made him this soft, it was your hand that drove him into sweet like honey delirium. 

✧°. When he came, his cum spurted onto your palm and some landed on your stomach. Soap moaned, holding onto the shower stall on his left. 

✧°. However, the warm and thick liquid was washed away by the trickle of water. 

✧°. “That’s a good girl.” Johnny would be so cute and sweet on you, when you did whatever he asked you to.

✧°. But when you misbehaved or even unwittingly flirted with another soldier, Perv!Soap would be rather rough and tough with you, shoving you into the closest, empty storage in the base.

✧°. Johnny would push your face against the wall, tightly gripping your wrists behind your back. He didn’t care when you scowled and whined at him. Soap kicked your feet further apart, before he started to grind against your ass. 

✧°. “You belong to me, remember? Only I can fuck your tight cunny, lass.” 

✧°. Perv!Soap didn’t care that you mumbled out an apology, he wanted to make a point here – to show you were his little fucktoy. 

✧°. So he pushed his way between your puffy folds without any preparations, John knew you would take him anyways. He wasn’t so sweet and gentle about the intercourse, not at all.

✧°. Soap set a fast and rough pace that made each of his powerful thrust borderline painful. Balancing between the soreness and pleasure. One of his hands kept your wrists restrained, while the other hand grabbed a fist full of your hair, forcing you to arch your back for him.

✧°. Your slightly suppressed moans and whines were music to his ears, only encouraging him to keep thrusting into your tight cunt.

✧°. And just before his actions made you and him orgasm, he pulled out of you and nestled his cock between your puffy folds. Ropes of thick cum covered your pussy and instantly began dripping onto your underwear.

✧°. Perv!Soap would pull your panties back up to their place, clinging tightly against your wet sex. Somehow you were conflicted and couldn’t decide if you were disgusted by the feeling of his semen smearing across your labia or were you aroused. 

✧°. “Go on, now.” Johnny told you, slapping your clothed ass in a gentler manner. 

✧°. “But–”

✧°. “If any bastard would try to sneak their hand into your panties, they’ll know, who this cunny belongs to, yes? I marked it.”

[unreliablesnake]

Play stupid games... (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: Simon agrees to pose as your boyfriend for the holidays. Since he has been in love with you for years, it turns out to be quite a bad decision.

Note: It took me a long time. But it's here now. Happy new year!

Simon had known you for almost three years now, spending most of this time thinking about asking you out. But he never did it. Why would you agree to be with him when he usually disappeared for months all of a sudden because of his job? Since he didn’t want to risk losing you for good, he decided to keep his feelings to himself, silently suffering every time you cried on his shoulder after a breakup, or when you couldn't shut up about your new boyfriend.

But then one day, maybe a week before Christmas, you stood there in front of his door with this big, Cheshire cat smile on your face, hands folded behind your back as you watched him. “Can I come in?” you chimed, and how could he say no to that?

Little did he know you would come up with a plan so risky he would for the very first time consider saying no to you. He didn't like the idea, not one bit, mostly because he didn't feel like lying to your family. A family that probably didn't even know he existed.

“Come on, Simon, I never ask for anything,” you tried with a sweet smile.

He knew you were right. You never even asked him to come and fix something around your place, or to give you a ride after a long night out with your friends. This was, after all, nothing more but a small favor, a little lie he would have to keep up until the holidays were over.

“If I agree to do this,” he began slowly, not missing the hopeful shine in your eyes, “you will have to lie to your parents and other relatives, telling them we've been together for months. Are you sure you're ready for it?”

You inched closer on the couch, a delicate hand resting on his knee as you looked him in the eye. “Look, they usually hate the guys I invite, but they keep asking why I'm single if I arrive alone. I just know they wouldn't dare to pick a fight with you. Scary dog privilege and all.”

With a sigh, Simon leaned his head on the back of the couch as he looked up at the ceiling. He always wanted to know what it would be like to be with you. What it would be like to hold your hand, to have you snuggled up to him on the couch, or to kiss you. This plan of yours gave him the perfect chance to experience all of these during the holidays.

And so a few days later the two of you were standing in front of the door of your parents' house, hand in hand, of course, because who would think he was a simple friend when your fingers were laced with his so tightly. He didn't mind; no, he actually liked it a lot. It was good for the both of you, making you calmer and more focused on this night ahead.

“Oh, look at that, you made it on time this year! I’m so happy to have you here. Come on in, you two,” an older woman said with a bright smile as she clapped her hands excitedly.

She was acting as if she was in her twenties, dressing in clothes which gave away that she wasn’t exactly in a good shape. But Simon bit his tongue before he could say anything offensive, staying silent even when you made a barely noticeable comment regarding her choice of clothing. Was she really that dumb? That woman kept talking as if you’d said nothing; she was either too stupid to pick up on your words, or decided to completely ignore them.

“Your parents are in the kitchen, helping David with the dinner. I wouldn’t advise you to go there, you know what David’s like when he cooks. But your cousin Allistair has been looking for you.”

And with that she turned around and walked away, not even bothering to excuse herself. Simon raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at you. “Am I invisible?” he asked half-jokingly, the corners of his lips turning upwards when you put your free hand on his chest. He wondered if you could feel how his heart was racing at that moment from your touch.

You let out a sigh as you looked around, searching the rooms you could see from the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t mind her, she thinks all of my relationships are doomed. You’re just a random guy I brought with myself in her eyes,” you explained once you turned back to him.

“At the end of the day that’s all I am,” he noted quietly. You asked him what he said, but Simon just shook his head without repeating the sentence.

Allistair turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He was Scottish, cocky, and funny, which reminded him of Johnny. Unlike your aunt, he actually greeted him, asking about him before starting a long speech full of embarrassing stories from your youth. Simon was grateful and he didn’t even feel like moving on and meeting other members of your family.

But when one particular story came up, you were quick to interrupt him and drag Simon away from your cousin. “I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t hear that one. Let me introduce you to my parents.”

The parents. Great. Apparently you had been planning this for months, telling your parents stories about your tough military boyfriend they couldn’t meet because he was often away. You knew perfectly well he would agree, and this made him wonder if he was too naive for his own good. You were playing him like a violin and he shouldn’t be like this, acting like some stupid, lovesick teenager.

All of his worry disappeared when you took his hand, though. “What are you doing to me?” he muttered quietly to himself.

You came to a halt and turned to him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

After a nod, you continued your journey to the kitchen, dragging him along through the empty hallway. When you reached your destination, you immediately flashed a wide smile at the people inside before going closer to greet them properly. Simon found it awkward to just stand there and wait. The last time he had been introduced to parents and relatives was in his teenage years a long time ago. He was out of practice.

You returned to him soon and put your hands on his upper arm. “Mom, Dad, David, he’s Simon, my boyfriend,” you said as you grinned up at him.

Simon’s heart melted at the sight. He wished he could kiss your pretty lips, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Your mother gave him a warm smile before quickly washing her hands and walking over to see him from up close. For a few seconds she was just silently studying his face, and then she put a hand on your shoulder as she gave you a serious look.

“He’s really handsome, honey, good choice. And a military man! I’m sure he can keep you safe.”

She then introduced herself and the others, the men even came over to shake his hand. Simon talked to all three, answering a series of questions about his relationship with you. He didn’t mind since the two of you had previously fabricated nice little stories to tell your family.

Once they returned their attention to the dinner they had left unattended for a short while, you took his hand again before pulling his head down with the other to kiss him. It was just for show, he knew it, but it still felt so real, so good, and he was on cloud nine. Maybe he was just imagining things, but he could have sworn you were smiling up at him like a satisfied cat once he pulled away.

The rest of the evening was a walk in the park after meeting your parents and convincing them you were dating for real. Simon often took your hand, drawing circles into your skin absentmindedly as he had a conversation with a relative of yours. They seemed to like him, although there was a little girl who always ran back to her parents when he came too close to her.

After the guests began to leave, you announced your departure as well, and Simon took you home like a good boyfriend. You gave him a kiss on the cheek next to the car when you got there, then said goodbye and headed to the building. But he couldn’t just let you go like that, he had made up his mind during the evening that he would finally tell you how he felt.

“Wait,” he said as he went after you. You stopped and turned around with a questioning hum, but instead of giving you a verbal answer, he started with a proper kiss. You seemed surprised at first, but then you returned it for his relief. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, you know,” he said when he pulled back.

“Oh.”

That was all you said. He didn’t expect you to say it back, but he still expected you to say something more than this. Yes, it was probably a lot to take in, but you could have said you needed time to think about it, that it took you by surprise and you weren’t sure you knew what you wanted. But no. That was all he got.

“I should go,” you said with a gulp before going inside, twisting the knife in his heart with this reaction.

Weeks passed without him hearing from you. During that time he had to go back to base, and becoming Ghost once again took his mind off you. There he was a soldier, not Simon. He couldn’t let his emotions make him unfocused. But despite his best efforts, Price noticed that something was different. That something was off about his lieutenant.

So one evening he summoned Simon, officially to talk about a situation on the other side of the planet, unofficially to find out what was wrong with him. “Can I offer you a drink?” Price asked him when he sat down. When the lieutenant shook his head, he let out a sigh and sat down behind the desk. “I consider you a friend, Simon. I hope you know you can always talk to me.”

A groan left his throat upon hearing this. Price knew Simon, but here he was Ghost. He had to be Ghost, otherwise he would go insane. Because every night when he was left alone with his thoughts, he found himself staring at the screen of his phone, thinking about you. Should he call you? Should he send you a message?

“You don't have to, but it might help,” Price pressed on, but he only raised a hand and shook his head. “Listen, I know your head is here with us. I appreciate that. But you need to talk to someone. Is this about your family? The anniversary of what happened to them?”

Shaking his head again, the lieutenant leaned back in the chair. “It's not about my family, I made peace with that. Sort of. As cliche as it sounds, it's about a woman. I don't know what to do.”

Price lit a cigar as he watched him. They weren't that far apart in age, and he had a feeling the captain considered him a friend at the end of the day. It wasn't unusual for the two of them to go out for a drink between missions, discussing quite a lot of things, including each other's private life. While he didn't have much to say, his superior talked a lot about his family and women he was chasing.

“Tell me. What happened?”

“I kissed her and she stopped talking to me,” he said, opting to give the short answer to the captain. He sent a disapproving look in his way, clearly expecting a little more than that. After a gulp, he went on. “All right. So she asked me to pose as her boyfriend for the holidays. I agreed because I’m a fucking idiot who had been in love with her ever since we met. After we spent the evening with her family, I took her home and kissed her. I tried to call her, but she ignored me. I think she's mad.”

“You shouldn't have done that,” Price told him calmly. Simon was a little confused, and no matter how hard he thought, he couldn't figure out what he meant. Probably seeing the look on his face, the captain let out a sigh, blowing out some smoke. “Playing her boyfriend. You shouldn't have done that if you love her. It just makes you more desperate.”

Simon nodded. “You're right.”

“Well… Maybe she just needs time. But I don't know her, so,” he said, finishing the sentence with a shrug. “Gaz tells me a lot about his issues with women, but I swear he handles it better than you do.”

“Thanks. That helps a lot,” the lieutenant said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Why don't I ever hear about your issues? It's always so easy for you based on your stories.”

“What can I say? I'm good at charming the ladies,” Price replied, a laugh filling the room as he got rid of the remains of the cigar.

Over a month later Simon finally went home, and a few days after his arrival he found himself lying on his bed in the middle of the day, staring at the ceiling as he thought about calling you. Would you finally pick up and talk to him? In the end he decided to send you a text instead.

Simon: Hey. Wanna meet me for a drink?

Two excruciatingly long hours later a notification showed up on his screen.

You: Sure. Where?

Simon: My place? I'll order dinner.

You: Not sure that's a good idea.

Simon: Come on.

You: All right, fine.

You arrived not long after the conversation, holding a bottle of wine you two often drank on nights like this. The situation was awkward as Simon didn't really know what to do or say. A part of him wanted to apologize for the kiss, hoping you could forgive him and continue your friendship as if nothing happened. But another part was ready to beg you to be open-minded now.

When the door closed behind you, he leaned against it and watched as you slipped out of your sneakers and walked into the kitchen as if you lived there. A smile crept on his lips at the thought of you living with him. That would be nice. He could get used to the idea.

The next time he laid his eyes on you, you already had two glasses of wine in your hands, getting closer to him with a small smile. “You surprised me with that kiss,” you finally spoke up.

Simon took the glass from you, suddenly feeling nervous. “You didn’t forget about it.” You shook your head before taking a sip of your drink. “I’m sorry, I just… I know that was a lot to dump on you that night.”

“No, it’s okay. I had some time to think. You’re a great guy, Simon, any girl would be lucky to have you by their side,” you began to explain, causing him to let out a long sigh of defeat. “I’m one of those girls.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” With a short laugh, you immediately nodded and stood on your toes in front of him. “Does this count as our first date?”

He leaned down a little to give you a quick kiss. “No, you have to take me somewhere nice,” you told him.

“I’ll think of something.”

“Think of the place where we went after that party all those years ago. You know, when we first met.”

This surprised Simon. He tilted his head to the side as he watched you with a confused look on his face. “That was a McDonald’s.” You shrugged with a smile. “God, I love you.”

[thefreakandthehair]

(don't bother) calling me when you're sober | rating: m | wc: 1.5k

content warnings: future fic, parental alcoholism ("falling off the wagon"), past parental neglect, minor character death (i've committed wayne crimes i'm so sorry but it's not shown, just mentioned), emotional hurt/comfort, ends on a happy, hopeful note despite the tags

“My dad called.” 

Eddie walks into the room, pinched eyebrows and flared nostrils lit up by the multicolored Christmas lights they string on the tree every year, one hand balled into a fist. The reaction  wouldn’t surprise Steve so much if this happened years ago, when Al Munson was still living in the bottom of a bottle of Jack, but now? 

It’s been eighteen years since he’d gotten sober, nineteen years since his last stint at Hawkins County, and fifteen years since making a genuine attempt to right the wrongs of Eddie’s childhood and build a relationship with his son. 

Fifteen years after Eddie let him in, let him try, let him earn Eddie’s trust. 

Fifteen years is a long time and to see Eddie so vitriolic in the doorway of their apartment’s living room— hands shaking, body shaking— Steve knows something must’ve gone wrong. 

“What happened?” Steve asks, standing from the couch and meeting Eddie where he stands, holding the hand not curled tightly around itself. 

“He’s drunk. He called, and he was drunk.” 

Steve’s chest pulls tight, his heart racing. What does someone say to that? What can someone say to assuage that kind of deep anger, pain, and betrayal? His thoughts are scattered as they try to make sense of what Eddie just said, and he’s even more grateful now that Ronnie wanted a sleepover with Aunt Robin tonight. 

“Eddie, fuck. I’m so— ” Before he can finish his thought, Eddie leans back against the doorframe, ripping his hand out of Steve’s and tangling his fingers in his hair, tugging. 

“How could he? How fucking could he?!” Eddie bellows, eyes squeezed shut. “He knew! He knew that if he ever did this again, I’d be done. For good. For forever. And he did it anyways! After eighteen fucking years!” 

His eyes fly open and Steve stands still and nods him on. There are just no words to fix this, and trying for the sake of filling the silence has never served him well.

“He did it anyway! Two days before fucking Christmas, a week before the anniversary of—” He chokes and cuts himself off. 

He knows what Eddie was going to say. A week before the anniversary of Wayne’s death. It’s been on his mind, too, of course. On his mind and in their conversations over breakfast with eccentric mugs of coffee, over the tangled lights that Wayne could always figure out. The year hasn’t been the kindest to them, particularly Eddie, and Steve wants to protect Eddie as much as he can from whatever he can. 

But he can’t shield him from this. Al Munson skips to the top of his shitlist.

“That son of a bitch!” Eddie rams his fist sideways against the door jam, leaving a sharp, red mark along his pinky. “He promised, and I believed him. Why the fuck did I believe him, Steve?”

Steve takes a step closer and grabs both of Eddie’s hands, carefully soothing the angry mark. “It’s been almost twenty years, babe. Trusting him with so much time invested makes sense. Hell, I did, too.” 

“I’m— I’m in my 30s, hurt and angry about the same shit I was hurt and angry about as a fucking kid. All the nights I slept in the backseat of the car because he blew his money at the bar, all the car accidents and court appearances and jail time, all the mornings I missed school because he didn’t know what fucking day it was,” Eddie rants, stopping to take a breath before picking back up, Steve’s own heart cracking and raging the more he speaks. 

“And every time he’d get sober, he’d always promise. He’d promise it would be the last time, and it never was. Not once could he choose his fucking son and I didn’t understand it then, but now that we have Ronnie, I understand it even less. If I was sick enough to walk away from her, I’d walk my happy ass to the nearest fucking rehab. I get that it’s a disease, I get it, I get it, I get it. But I can’t— I can’t do it again. Not this time. Eighteen years just down the fucking drain because of his company’s holiday party? How can I ever believe him again? Or trust him again?” 

Eddie’s voice grows raspier, breath shallow and quick, eyes watery. “Every time this happened when I was a kid, I always had Wayne. He’s the only person who really got it, y’know? The only one who lived it with me and now, I don’t even have him. My dad’s drunk, slurring his way through who fucking knows what on the phone, and no one else can fully understand the magnitude of what that feels like for me.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut again and drops forward toward Steve, forehead on his shoulder and arms loosely hung around Steve’s waist. Steve still doesn’t have words that bandage this up, but he knows how to show his husband love in other ways. Ways that, over the years, have become a language all their own. Steve pulls him in tight, one hand near his waist, the other cradling the back of his head. Fingers slide carefully beneath the hem of Eddie’s tee-shirt and rub little, repetitive circles into the small of Eddie’s back while he cards his other hand through Eddie’s hair, scratching his scalp and holding him to his chest to feel the rhythm of Steve’s own heartbeat until his breath returns to a steady pace. 

It’s only then that Steve speaks. 

“I don’t know what to say, Ed. It’s fucked up, and if you want to me like, hit him with my car, you know I’m game.” Steve feels Eddie laugh— just a few puffs of air through his nose but it’s a laugh all the same. “But I’m here, and we’re gonna figure it out, okay? Whatever you decide to do, we’ll do it together.”

Eddie nods and lets himself be led to the couch, Steve tucking Eddie into his side and pulling the afghan up over them. 

“I never want to be what Al was to me to our daughter,” Eddie whispers, not looking away from the tree. 

“Well, you’re ahead of the game, because she’s already older than you were when he started hitting the bottle hard. And I know there’s the genetic piece to it that everyone talks about, but nurture counts for a lot of who we become, too. Shit, I owe Joyce Byers a huge thank you for being more of a parent to me than my own were because she’s probably the reason I didn’t turn out like Dick Harrington. Ronnie’s never going to have an Al Munson in her life, because you weren’t raised by Al Munson. That’s not whose legacy you’re passing down. You’re passing down love, not pain.” Steve presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple and feels his whole body sag into him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Eddie’s voice is quiet now, a far cry from his earlier venomous edge. 

Silence nestles onto the couch with them, a comfortable addition, as they watch the basketball game Steve had on before Eddie told him about the phone call. Watch is a loose description, actually. They're more just looking at a moving, flashing screen. 

“My hand really hurts, by the way,” Eddie announces, holding up the hand he’d used to punch the doorjam. “That was fucking dumb.”

“Maybe a little bit, but I get it,” Steve untucks a hand from beneath the blanket and outstretches his palm. “Lemme see?”

Eddie plops his hand into Steve’s and Steve takes a look, mentally working down the check list he’s memorized from his decade plus of EMT work. No obvious breaks, nothing looks crooked, Eddie’s able to move each finger and flex his hand without severe pain. 

“If anything, it’s just gonna be bruised tomorrow. But I’ll fix it,” Steve grins and lifts Eddie’s fist to his lips, carefully kissing each knuckle and paying a little extra attention to the pinky that delivered most of the blow. 

“I’m so in love with you, Steve.” Eddie rests his temple on Steve’s shoulder. “You know that, right?” 

“I know,” Steve agrees, chest fluttering despite the circumstances. “And I’m in love with you, too. You know that, right?”

Eddie snuggles in and wraps Steve up, full koala, as though he’s trying to get as close as possible without actually cracking Steve open and climbing inside of him. 

“Definitely.”

The next morning, Aunt Robin brings Ronnie home and together, they decorate the gingerbread cookies that only vaguely look like people but are good enough to pass for a seven year old. Halfway through, Eddie’s cell phone rings and the caller I.D. reads Al. Steve watches, worried that Eddie’s going to answer in the middle of their decorating. That he’ll forget Ronnie’s having the time of her life, and that in his righteous indignation, Eddie will leave the table to go fight and argue.

There’s so much to be said, and Steve wouldn’t blame him, but he breathes a sigh of relief when Eddie simply declines the call and sets about pouring more edible glitter onto his design with a smile down at their daughter. 

[slexenskee]

Only Shooting Stars (Break The Mold)

The AU where Gojo is actually All Might's California kid that literally no one asked for, including me 🤦‍♀️

Satoru’s best friend just told him she hates him. Actually, she told him she wanted to go hiking, which is basically the same thing. 

There is emphatically nothing he’d like less than being dragged through the parched, dry hills around the Dish on an otherwise perfectly normal Saturday morning free of classes, but Makoto is only in town for two days and he promised her he’d do whatever she liked barring arson and/or more tequila shots. 

“Can’t you just get Captain Underpants to go with you?” He throws out as a token protest, staggering into her rental jeep with the darkest shades he owns tossed over his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his hangover at bay.

He squints at her as she settles in the driver’s seat of her rented death contraption. And why isn’t she hungover, anyway? She had even more to drink than him last night. 

“You know his hero name is Captain Celebrity, and please don’t say that where anyone can hear you.” She rolls her eyes as she starts the car. “Until I get a more famous client he’s still my cash cow, and I’d really rather not get fired right now.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Satoru snorts, flopping into the passenger seat. “Isn’t he still cheating on the daughter with the stepmom or something?”

“Alleged,” Makoto hisses. “Allegedly cheating. And no, obviously. I wouldn’t still be his publicist if he was that much of an idiot.”

She tries to back out of her spot and almost immediately slides several inches down the heart-palpitation-inducing San Francisco incline he’d parked her on last night. She gives him a look of pure, sheer terror over her steering wheel. 

Satoru quickly undoes his seatbelt. “Yeah, okay. Put the parking brake on and switch with me— I’ll drive.” 

He has them up and off the worst of Hyde St.’s incline with the undisturbed impassivity of a kid who’s spent his entire driving career wedging himself into tenuous and visibly improbable parking spots all across the bay area. Makoto gives a sigh of relief once they clear the worst of the soaring hills, and actually doesn’t bring up the topic he knows she’s itching to broach until he’s pulling onto the 101. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have to bother with Captain Celebrity if someone would just finally agree to be a hero.” Makoto needles him, for the umpteenth time. 

He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Not happening.” He shoots her down flat. 

“You can’t stay in college forever!” She protests.

“What do you mean, forever?” He protests back, offended. “I’m not even twenty-two yet!” 

And she makes it sound like he’s wasting his life away going to college or something! As if getting into Stanford isn’t the most snobbish badge of supremacy you can wave around in this damn state! 

This is what he gets for saving her all those years ago, he laments. A best friend who nags him over all his life choices. He should have let her just fall from that damned New York skyscraper. Or more realistically, just waited it out and let an actual hero swoop in and save her. It’s not as if there hadn’t been plenty around at the time. 

She’d been a twenty-one year-old intern at a prestigious marketing agency caught at the wrong end of a villain takeover, and as far as his mother was concerned he’d been a seventeen year-old ostensibly touring the city for colleges, but in reality had been touring music dive bars more than campuses. They’d immediately bonded over the fact he’d saved her life, but also the indie band shirt he’d been wearing as he’d done it. 

Growing up in LA, his only two real options were surfing or surf rock, and he’d chosen to spend more time on the route that wouldn’t lead him to immediate skin cancer. His mom had eventually moved them to San Francisco, but he’d never quite grown out of his SoCal roots. He’d loved music in his last life, and in this life, he’d decided to chill the fuck out and ignore society and all it’s problems, and music seemed as good a way as any to do it. And he was pretty damn good at it, if he did say so himself. His expansive catalog of songs from his last life and eidetic memory made most people call him a genius, even if he rejected the label. So he was a passable— if not prodigal— guitarist, and Makoto had just learned to play the bass herself, so it was really no surprise they’d not only immediately bonded, but immediately decided to make a band together. 

Makoto jumping ship and splitting her time between the US and Japan had thrown a bit of a wrench in their rockstar dreams, but they were making it work somehow. And considering he can teleport around the world at will, it’s really not that much of a hindrance. 

That does beg the question though, of why Makoto would rather him be a hero than a musician. But he imagines he actually already knows the answer to that. 

“How about you stop cleaning up after stupid celebrities, and become a celebrity yourself.” He argues, with a raised brow. 

Makoto scoffs. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to break into the music industry?” 

With the confidence of several dozen platinum hits spanning several dozen genres sitting pretty in his head, Satoru retorts; “I don’t think that will be a problem for us.” 

She laughs him off at first, but then seems to give it genuine thought. “I guess you are pretty enough to have lead singer appeal,” she concedes, uncharitably. “But we haven’t even released an album yet; you have no idea how well it will be received on the charts. Playing little dive bar shows isn’t going to get us anywhere.” 

Satoru just shrugs. “Then what’s stopping us? Let’s record an album.”

Makoto just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Come pop by Japan next weekend, and let’s do it.”

“Sure.” He agrees immediately, making her do a double take. He grins winsomely at her. “What? I’m free next weekend. Why not?” 

She just shakes her head in wonder. “Even seeing it multiple times, sometimes I really do still forget you can just… teleport across the world. And stop bullets with your eyeballs.”

“It’s telekinesis,” he corrects, but at this point it’s just rote. 

“No, I specifically remember you trying to explain it had something to do with your eyeballs, don’t try to change it up now.” Makoto pokes him in the shoulder— or tries to, but is stopped with his barrier. “And how the hell that’s supposed to even make sense, I have no idea. But you definitely said it.” 

Yeah, he probably deserves that for trying to explain his cursed techniques while he’d been several mystery drinks deep at a college frat party. Makoto probably still hasn't forgiven him for dragging her to that madhouse, but in his defense, she’d all but begged him to take her to an American college party in the first place.

“It’s… complicated.” He hedges off. “My eyes just help me understand how to use my powers; they’re not actually what creates my barrier.” 

Makoto squints at him suspiciously. “... What’s your mom’s quirk again?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, she can convert energy from the sun. Mine’s a mutation, obviously.”

“Could just be a strange combination.” Makoto muses. “What did you say your dad’s quirk was?”

“I, uh, have no idea.” Satoru coughs, keeping his eyes on the road in a vaguely panicked manner. 

“Shit, that’s right, I’m sorry.” Makoto jolts in her seat, apologetic. “You still haven’t heard anything? I thought your mom said… I mean, they’re not on bad terms, right?”

Frankly, Satoru almost wishes she would continue pestering him about becoming a hero over this particular topic. 

“They’re not on bad terms, no.” He hedges off, shifting in his seat. Why couldn’t his best friend have a normal quirk, like fire breathing or water bending? Or anything besides being a human lie detector when he has so much he needs to lie about? “But they don’t talk much. I’m not sure she even knows what his quirk is herself.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, your quirk is what it is.” Mercifully, Makoto lets the subject drop. “Even if it makes no damn sense.”

Satoru laughs that off. “Does any quirk ever really make sense, though?” 

Makoto just clicks her tongue, then launches into a spirited rant on the laws of quirk science. Satoru breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the conversation devolves into a nonsensical argument on what would be the most useless quirk in history. 

One of these days he’s going to have to cave and tell Makoto the truth, but he’d really rather not do it when he’s hungover and facing the prospect of a miserable hike for the next few hours. 

//

And to be fair, nothing he said to Makoto was a lie. 

His parents aren’t on bad terms. Or rather, they’re not on any terms at all, as he doesn’t think they’ve even spoken once in the twenty-two years he’s been alive in this world. But according to his mom, they hadn’t parted on bad terms. They’d been college sweethearts, and his father had always been honest about his intentions to return to Japan. His mother had been adamant about staying in America and pursuing her own career. They’d split up for practicalities sake, unaware he was already on the way, and his mom looks back on that time of her life fondly. 

His mom would go on to have him several months after his father had left the country, and raise him as a single-mother as she built a life for them. His father would go on to be the world’s strongest hero. 

His mother had only ever known Yagi Toshinori as All Might, unbeatable and unbreakable, with a quirk so strong it would have him going down in history as one of the strongest heroes of all time. As far as she— and the rest of the world knew— he had some kind of strengthening quirk. 

But Satoru had seen him before, on one of his trips back to Japan. It had been from a distance, as he’d taken down a villain to the delight of the cheering crowds around him, but it had been enough for Satoru’s Six Eyes to see his quirk wasn’t quite as straightforward as the strengthening ability listed on his hero profile. All Might’s core— where most humans had a swirling mass of plus alpha energy— was as empty as Satoru’s. Satoru was quirkless because his father, All Might, had been born quirkless. The quirk All Might had now must have been  given to him when he was older, growing around that empty space and spreading through his body almost like a parasite. Or a curse. Satoru honestly couldn’t tell.

Satoru honestly didn’t care. 

He has no opinion on All Might, or what choices he may or may not have made to wield the power he has. 

When he was much younger, and saw how much his mother struggled to raise him on her own without help, he would resent him a bit for leaving her on her own like this. But his adult mind could understand the logic in both his parents’ motivations. They both made their own choices, and did what they thought was right with only care and consideration for each other. 

And it’s not as if Satoru’s childhood was lacking in any capacity.  

Actually, his childhood was awesome. 

To be entirely honest, he doubts he would have wanted All Might around even if that was possible. He can’t imagine a better way to grow up than the way he did, rocking out in the garage with his mom on the weekends, surfing in the mornings (with adequate sunscreen), skating from school to the skatepark in the afternoons, and having the complete and utter autonomy only a latchkey kid could have. His mom did what she could to make sure he grew up comfortably and well-cared for, and that included putting in long hours at work that had him on his own for most of the week. It was the best. There were no rules against using quirks in America— someone finally got their act together on personal bodily autonomy and all that— so he’d use his ‘quirk’ to teleport himself all across the world in his spare time. As long as he was back by dinner time, his mom didn’t need to know if he decided to spend the afternoon wandering the streets of Seoul in search of the best hotteok. 

He tried to keep his excursions on the down low, and keep his grades up and his nose out of trouble. While he adored his freedom, he never wanted to worry his mom. She was honestly too good for this world— and for him too, if he was being honest. The least he could do is be as good of a son as possible.

Well, he can try to be as good of a son as possible. As it stands, the majority of his chaotic existence usually gets in the way of that. 

“Oh, Sacchan, you’re home already?” His mother peers out of her office, thick, horn-rimmed glasses making her purple eyes look comically large on her face as she pokes her head over the wall. “Where’s Makoto-chan?”

“Probably on the plane already, unless it got delayed.” He tosses his keys into the basket by the front door, toeing off his shoes. 

She frowns at him. “You drove her to SFO, right? Don’t tell me you let her go by herself!”

He rolls his eyes. “She had a rental car to drop off, ya know. But yeah, I drove her from the rental place to her terminal.” 

Not that she deserved the consideration, after dragging him on a hike of all damn things yesterday. They’d just stayed out the whole night drinking beforehand, what madwoman does that? 

She gets up out of her chair, stretching her arms over her head as her hapless bun spills silver-white hair over her shoulders. “She’s such a nice girl,” his mother enthuses, as she cracks her neck. “I wish you’d bring more of your friends around, Sacchan. Your poor mother worries.”

“I’m in college now, mom.” He rolls his eyes. “We don’t really bring our friends around to meet our parents.”

More to the point, he wouldn’t want to anyway. College boys are emphatically the worst, and his mom is a very pretty woman. That’s just asking for trouble. And beyond that, he doesn’t have anyone at school he’d feel close enough to introduce her to anyway. He has plenty of people in his orbit to pair up with in labs, hang around the quad with while he’s killing time between classes, or drag to various house parties, but those are superficial bonds at best. 

He’s a young, handsome boy who surfs and skateboards and is good at all sports and plays rock music and still ranks at the top of his class; suffice it to say, he’s never wanted for friends or popularity. But he’s also a full grown man living through a second life; he has very little in common with the people in his age group. It’s gotten better now that he’s a full-fledged adult again, but he still tends to find the petty struggles of his fellow undergrads to be a bit pedantic. 

“You never brought any around in highschool either.” His mother laments. “Sacchan, you’re not embarrassed over your mother, are you?”

“Not at all.” He protests, then adds, because he doesn’t want to worry her, “I just don’t want people knowing exactly where I live. They seem nice enough, but you never really know with people these days.”

He says it to assure her that he’s a perfectly well-adjusted and well-liked kid who has plenty of deep and genuine friendships (entirely untrue) but only serves to worry her even more. 

She frowns at him, eyes downcast. “Oh, Satoru,” she says, in a sad tone that automatically has him lurching forward to comfort her. “I know things with your father are… complicated, but I never wanted to make you feel like you had to hide yourself from the world. I want to keep you safe, but I want you to have fun too, you know?” 

“Yes, I know.” He rushes to reassure her. “And I do have fun— you know I do! You came to my show just last week!”

His mother gives him a watery smile. “Yes, and your bandmate Kenji nearly started a bar fight, and the crowds got so unruly that the fire department got called in.” 

“That guy deserved to be slapped around a bit.” He returns, unapologetic. “And the fire department was just there to make sure we stayed under capacity— we weren’t causing any trouble!”

“No trouble, he says, when the cops were still called by the end of the night.” She teases him. 

He rolls his eyes. He can’t control whether or not two drunks decide to get in a brawl over baby mama drama outside the venue, that was totally not his fault. And also probably not the best show to take his mom to, but it was one of the few local performances they’ve ever done, and she was always making noises about finally seeing his band play in person. Unsurprisingly having two bandmates that live across the ocean and one that hops between two countries means they rarely play shows on this side of the Pacific, and he still hasn’t found a way to admit to her that his teleportation radius is a lot larger than he’d originally told her as a five year-old manifesting his ‘quirk’. 

“Cops or not, it was still a good time.” He grins, adamantly. 

“It was indeed a good time.” She nods, grinning back. She leans up to pat his cheek. “You looked like you were really enjoying yourself up there, Satoru. I always knew you’d be a star.” 

“It was a weekday performance at a local bar, I would hardly call myself a star.” He protests, helplessly. 

Her eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “Maybe not yet.”

--

Yes the title is from All Star by Smashmouth 😂 this fic has the most millennial playlist I've ever made

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[bobfloydsbabe]

gold rush | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

SUMMARY: Everyone knows history professor Bob Floyd is a little eccentric. He only drinks tea steeped for exactly four minutes, his desk is pristine while the rest of his office looks like a bomb went off, he's distrustful of technology, and he definitely doesn't want or need a teaching assistant. Certainly not one who's as aggravating as she is pretty...

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid-to-late 20s/late 30s), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: ~0.5k

A/N: Eccentric Professor Bob Floyd has been on my mind constantly for the last week, so here we are with a moodboard and a short blurb. This AU will not be a full length series, but a collection of blurbs and drabbles. Special thanks to @ryebecca for raving with me about my new favorite grumpy man. Don't hesitate to send me questions and headcanons!

UPDATE: ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST

Bob stops dead in his tracks in the doorway to his office, hot tea spilling over the edges of the cup.

Inside, among piles of books and paper, stands a woman with her back turned none the wiser to his presence. She can’t be one of his students–they know not to come to his office unless they have an appointment.

“Who are you?” he asks, not bothered with pleasantries.

She turns around with a startled laugh. “Dr. Floyd, you scared me,” she says with a hand pressed to her heaving chest. “You can’t sneak up on people like that.”

“You’re in my office,” he points out, brushing past her as he walks to his desk in long strides, placing his cup on a coaster to protect the wood.

“Right,” she agrees.

He sits and pulls his books closer to continue preparing for his next lecture, but his eyes drifts back to the young woman. She appears to be in her mid, maybe late twenties. Dark hair falls in loose waves around her face, and she’s looking at him expectantly. “Did you need something?” he asks.

She cocks her head to the side, brows furrowed. “I’m waiting for you to put me to work.”

“Work?”

“Yes,” she answers, incredulous. “What did your old TA do?”

He stares at her, almost convinced he’s hallucinating. “I don’t have a teaching assistant.”

She smiles at him, wide and enthusiastic. “Well, you do now. Would you like me to clean up a bit? It’s a little messy in here.”

Bob suppresses a frustrated groan. Pushing back from his desk, he stands and rounds his desk, stopping in front of her. The scent of her perfume hits his nostrils, something spicy and vaguely floral, and this close, he can see all the colors in her eyes. “I don’t want a TA and I certainly don’t need one. Whoever hired you–”

“Dr. Kazansky,” she interjects. “–made an error. Now, please, leave.”

Walking back around his desk, he ignores the sound of her taking a deep breath and composing herself. She doesn’t speak until he’s fully sat and emerged in his books again.

“You may not want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she begins through clenched teeth, forcing him to look up. She holds his gaze, determination and a hint of defiance in those dark doe eyes. “But you’re stuck with me. So, I’ll be back tomorrow and we can start over. Have a good day.”

The door slams and Bob’s left in the silence of his office, staring at the spot where she stood mere moments ago. Of course, Dr. Kazansky went behind his back to hire a teaching assistant–he’s insisted that Bob needs one for years, but Bob’s always been able to avoid it. Until now, it seems. He wonders how long she’ll last before she realizes he’s too set in his ways to change. But as he imagines the way her nose will scrunch in annoyance, it occurs to him he never even got her name.

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TAGLIST: @blue-aconite, @sylviebell, @wkndwlff, @ryebecca, @sebsxphia, @rhettabbotts, @lewmagoo, @ereardon, @anniesocsandgeneralstore, @desert-fern, @fantasias-creativebubble, @lostinwonderland314, @luckyladycreator2, @cherrycola27, @flashyourgreeneyesatme, @atarmychick007, @yanna-banana, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @gizmodear, @hangmanapologist, @thedroneranger, @soulmates8, @withakindheartx, @eternallyvenus, @kmc1989, @bcarolinablr, @memeorydotcom, @dempy, @withahappyrefrain, @bradshawsbitch, @daisiesandinvasives, @teacupsandtopgun, @laracrofted

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Do You Believe in Soulmates, Darling?

poly!mikaelsons x reader

summary: after waiting a thousand years to find their soulmates, the mikaelsons find it in mystic falls. one thing though - they all share the same lover. | request

word count: 7k (I don’t know how this happened)

tags: soulmates, fluff, human!reader

It is Kol that sees you first. He is standing in the town square, observing how people are in the twenty-first century, and how much has changed since he’d last been undaggered. He hadn’t really planned on being out that day, but Klaus was getting unruly in the mansion, needing quiet time to paint. Kol wasn’t in the mood to be on the receiving end of his anger again, so he scurried out the door and decided to explore the town. 

It’s peaceful and no one bothers him. No siblings, nor vampires, nor townspeople. For once, the inhabitants of Mystic Falls mind their own business. 

By nearly three o’clock, he still occupies the square. Klaus was probably over his anger hours ago, but Kol finds he quite likes the scene. Despite enjoying the time away, though, he knows he should go home soon before a sibling catches up to him. One cannot escape the family for too long; that’s the blessing and curse of family. With a sigh, he stands up to leave, sparing one last glance to the park before him. 

Thank god for that last look. Had he not taken it, he wouldn’t have noticed you. That would be a missed connection never known, but to secretly haunt him forever. 

You, with your gentle smile as you look at the girl to your left. The way your eyes roll at something she says. The way you walk gracefully towards him, though he knows that’s not where you’re headed. Suddenly, something inside him wishes it were. Something fluttering in his chest; something that starts to beg for your attention. He stares at you as if his gaze would somehow attract yours. 

“Are you daft? Kol! Hello?!” None of the words register to him. However, the swift hit to the head does. 

Kol whips around to see his sister. Her hands open to him in frustration. 

“I’ve been calling you for ages, standing right beside you. What are you even looking at?”

“Nothing,” he says, almost stutters. 

“Certainly not nothing to have your attention like that.” Rebekah scoffs, then tries to follow his line of sight.

By then, you had dipped into a store. Kol secretly curses his sister for the distraction. 

“That bird over there, you were seeing?” There’s a bluebird standing where you just were.

“No.”

“Then whatever in the name of-”

“Just a girl, Bekah. So like I said, nothing.”

“Oh? A girl’s caught your attention?” She snickers, “tell me, is she pretty?”

“Can you bugger off?”

“Why don’t you just answer?”

“Because I-” he stops upon seeing you again. You and Caroline tumble out of the store laughing, clutching onto each other’s shoulders. He listens to the words he sees leave your lips. 

“That was so weird,” you mutter.

“People here are so strange sometimes,” Caroline agrees with your statement. 

“Because you what?” Rebekah’s voice cuts back in. When Kol doesn’t answer, she follows his gaze again. “Caroline Forbes?”

“No, the girl beside her.”

A tease is prepared on the tip of her tongue, but upon seeing you, it’s gone. The two Mikaelsons are quiet for a moment as they watch you and Caroline continue to laugh. 

“My, she is pretty,” the blonde finally admits. “Go talk to her.”

“Do you really think it’s wise for me to go over there with Caroline Forbes right there?”

“Well if you don’t now, you could lose her forever!”

“Or I could lose my life when her blonde friend rips my head from my neck!”

“You never know until you try.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea what will happen if I do that.”

“Caroline won’t kill you because then she’ll lose brownie points with our brother.”

“Fair point, Bekah, but-” He’s interrupted by two ringing phones. Specifically, his and his sister’s. “Bloody hell. Almost went all day without a summoning.”

“Who’s calling you?”

“Klaus.”

“Elijah’s got me. Guess we have to go back now. Wish your pretty girl farewell.”

Kol rolls his eyes at her words. He steals one last glance at you before following his sister to what he hopes isn’t some new brand of chaos. 

◇◇◇◇

“So is it true?” You turn to your best friend.

“What?”

“That Klaus has a thing for you?”

She slouches in her next few steps, “really?! Y/N! As if I hadn’t had this conversation so many times.”

“Well, is it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know! I think he does, but trust me, I don’t feel anything for him back!”

“Aw,” you joke, “why not give him a chance? He could be your soulmate for all you know?”

She lets out a sharp laugh, “no way! In fact, Klaus has no soulmate, and do you know why?” She doesn’t give you a chance to answer before saying, “because I don’t think he even has a soul.”

“Caroline!”

“Am I wrong?”

“I- I don’t know, I’ve never met the guy!”

“Well good. Avoid him. He can be charming, I’ll give him that, but it doesn’t take away the fact that he’s a killer.”

“He can’t be that bad. We’ve all killed once or twice.”

“First of all, yes, he is. Second, no, we haven’t. I have. You have not, and that will stay that way.”

“Maybe I have, you don’t know that.”

She snorts, “You’re too sweet for that. And besides, even if you have, you’d tell me right away with your guilty conscience.”

“I do not have a-”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Fine, I might. But don’t mistake that for me not having fire, because I can assure you, I do.”

“Oh I know you do. That’s what makes us such good friends. But you need to remember that you’re human, so you still need to be careful.”

“I know, I know!”

“Which includes talking about Klaus, because he could be listening.”

“Sorry,” you try to hide your smirk, “I won’t ask about the big bad vampire again.”

“Good.” Caroline’s not at all convinced that this’ll be your last question about them, but at least it’ll be the last for today. 

Ever since the Mikaelsons have arrived in Mystic Falls, you’ve been curious about them. It’s hard enough keeping you out of the Salvatore drama, but that difficulty increased tenfold when the original family came into play. With you and Matt being the only two humans left in the friend group, they’re very protective of you. You, even more-so than Matt. Matt’s met most of them by working at the grill, but the girls do their best to hide your existence from the four siblings. They all swear that if they ever find you, nothing good would happen. 

◇◇◇◇

“You two have been out all day, where could you have possibly gone?” Elijah questions as soon as he sees his two youngest siblings enter the mansion. 

Kol already has his answer ready, “well seeing as Klaus was about ready to kill us all this morning, I decided it would be in my best interest to get away from him.”

“He’s been steady since one. It’s past three now.”

“Lost track of time, I guess. Tell me, what is it you wanted?”

“Why? Have something to get back to you?”

Rebekah, who had left to fetch a glass of bourbon, replies, “yes, actually. I was quite occupied before you called.”

“You two? Together? Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” the eldest raises his eyebrows. “Hopefully not planning a kill in the square?”

“On the contrary, dear brother. But unfortunately for you, it’s none of your business. So again, what is it for which you called?”

“Ever so fiesty, Rebekah. Worry not, we just wanted to make sure you weren't starting anything."

"What? That's it?"

"What kind of older brother would I be if I don't check up on my younger, more troublesome siblings?"

"You called us both home for that?"

"What’s got you so bitter, sister? Mystic Falls isn't so interesting that you should be so upset."

"Not to you, but this time, we actually did find something interesting, thank you!"

"Oh, do tell, Rebekah," her other brother asks as he fetches his own drink.

"Doesn't matter now that we'll never see her again," Kol mutters, sharing an annoyed look with the blonde.

"Her?"

Rebekah glares, "yes, a girl. But Kol's right, doesn't matter." She swallows down the rest of the liquor in one gulp.

The two eldest brothers are too confused to question further. Kol takes this as a chance to retreat to his room, while Rebekah, after one more look at Elijah, leaves to hers. 

"What girl could have stolen the attention of our two siblings so quickly?"

"Doubt there is one at all. They just wanted a reason to get away," Klaus snaps with a tone full of anger. 

Elijah detects a hint of jealousy, but says nothing. Nor does he share about his curiosity for this supposed girl that infatuated them both. 

◇◇◇◇

Two days later, you’re spotted in the square again, this time, by Elijah himself. At first glance, he makes no connection between you and whomever his siblings saw, but rather takes in the sight of you. You are sitting by the fountain, legs crossed on the cement, and a hand reaching into the water. A stack of books are in front of you, the one on top open, and a notebook to your left. You pay no attention to them, though, and keep your eyes trained on the small waterfall. The sight of a human so seemingly relaxed in such a busy and perilous town has him unable to draw away his attention. He watches you carefully from the square’s metal bench, far enough that you could not catch his eye. 

Only a mere five minutes pass before you have company. A girl Elijah recognizes - April Young - touches your shoulder lightly. You turn to her with a smile as she starts to speak. Curiosity kills him, so Elijah tunes in to listen. 

“If someone finds you out here, they’re not going to be happy.”

“I don’t care, April, I’m so bored. I can’t be inside all day just because they’re scared I’m going to encounter vampires.”

“Shh! You know they could overhear you, right?”

“It’s fine! They have no reason to hurt me, I’m just minding my own business.”

“They don’t need a reason to hurt anyone, Y/N, they just do. They drink blood, remember?”

“Okay, sure, point taken. But since I apparently have a team of protectors, I should be fine, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And, hey, you’re human. Why are you allowed to talk to them? Who’s the girl again? Rebekah?”

“Y/N, be quiet! Yes, I talk to them, but it’s because they found me first and dragged me into all this. And Matt’s been dragged in almost since day one. You haven’t been discovered by them yet, and we all need to keep it that way.”

“So boring! I want to be in on the fun.”

“It’s not fun, Y/N. I’m serious. None of them will be gentle if they find you; they’re all dangerous.”

You sigh, giving up on arguing with the girl.

“You know what they say, ‘curiosity killed the cat’,” April says.

“Okay, but they also say, ‘satisfaction brought it back’,” you finish, eyebrows raised. 

April rolls her eyes, “stay out of it. In fact, I’m texting Caroline right now that you left your house if you don’t go back right now.”

“I’m not going back, I’m studying here.”

“Study at home.”

“No.”

Immediately, she starts to dial Caroline. In an instant, you pack your books back into your bag. “See you later, buzzkill.”

The girl hangs up, but doesn’t leave until you do. You know better than to try and win a fight against both of them, so you head home, missing the square already. 

Elijah knows he shouldn’t follow you. Caroline could be on her way; April’s in the distance. Yet, he can’t watch you walk away, either. He must at least know your name, or else it might kill him. At the very least, he could compel the conversation out of your mind as soon as he hears it. 

He waits until you’re alone to approach. Probably not the best way to do it, but he doesn’t know how many there are keeping you hidden in your supposed “team of protectors”. And this way, it would be easier to compel, should it come to that. So, as you travel down the sidewalk, humming to yourself, he suddenly calls out to you,

“Excuse me, miss.”

You turn quickly towards the voice. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the handsome stranger. “Um, hi.”

“I mean you no harm, but I saw you in the square just a little bit ago, and I have to know your name.”

You hesitate, unsure if you should give it.

He continues, “I know this is quite random, but I truly do not wish to frighten you. I saw you by the fountain, unbothered by the world around you. The screams of children, the barking of dogs, but nothing disrupted your focus from the gentle flow of water. I could tell it brought you peace, and I could see the secret you harbored to jump in and enjoy it. It was beautiful, not to mention the beauty that you are, yourself. So, apologies if I am crossing a line, but I can’t help but wonder what name to put on this delicate soul that has imprinted on my own.”

You stare at him, speechless from his words. Never has anyone said such beautiful things to you, and in such an alluring accent, no less. 

“My apologies, love. I fear I have said too much.”

“N-no! Forgive me, I’ve just never had a man tell me I’m beautiful before.”

“That is quite a shame. Sure they just have never told you out loud.” He walks closer to you, feeling a bit more confident that you’re not afraid. 

A blush rises to your cheeks, but you’re still unable to form a response. “I-I, um… Y/N. My name.”

He repeats your name, tasting it on his tongue. “Lovely name. Lovely name for a lovely girl.”

“Thank you. And what’s yours, may I ask?”

Elijah hesitates. It hurts his heart knowing he’ll have to compel this conversation from your mind, but at least, he can give you his name before he does. “Elijah Mikaelson.”

“You- you’re a Mikaelson?”

“Afraid I am.” He scans your face for fear, which he wholeheartedly expected. However, nothing. 

“You’re the first I’ve gotten the pleasure to meet. I’ve been curious, I’ll admit, but my friends tell me to stay away,” you pause, “which you probably found out from my conversation with April a few minutes ago. Oops.”

“It’s alright, love. I won’t tell a soul of your secret.”

“Thanks,” you smile, “I hate being cooped up in the house all day. You were right - I did want to jump in that fountain.”

“You should’ve. I bet the joy on your face would have been unmatched.”

You swallow hard. You’ve never been good at taking compliments. Especially not those given to you by a handsome man who has lived long enough to see thousands of beautiful things. Never would you have expected to be one of those things. “I think I should’ve, too.” 

Suddenly, you get a text. In a brief glance, you see it’s Caroline. “Oh crap.”

“Is everything alright?”

You sigh, “it’s Caroline, asking me to send a picture of myself in my kitchen, with an egg in my hand, and a spoon on my head. I guess I have to go.”

“Such an odd request,” he wonders out loud.

“She likes to put me up to things like this to prove I’m at home. It’s something I won’t have in my pictures already, and have to do that instant. If I don’t get it done in five minutes, she comes over.”

“Well I guess I better let you leave, then.”

“Unfortunately, yes. But I liked meeting you, Elijah.”

He smiles, “you too, Miss Y/N.” He steps forward and takes your palm to kiss it. In a deep breath before he starts to compel you, you suddenly interrupt him. 

“Wait! I’m way more than five minutes away. Crap! She’s gonna catch me.”

He shouldn’t offer. He shouldn’t know where you live. Yet, the idea of you getting caught out of your house worries him. He may never see you again if that happens. “I could, perhaps, take you home? Could get you there much quicker than if you were to walk.”

“You would do that?”

“I owe you that little, being the reason you might get caught otherwise.”

You blush at the thought of him picking you up, but try to force it away. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” He picks you up bridal style, and before you know it, you’re on your porch. 

“Thank you.” You smile, then check your phone. “Oh, shoot! Two minutes left.” You’re quick to unlock your door and throw it open. “Come in and help me find an egg!”

Surely you know the rules about those words pertaining to vampires and one’s home, yet you said them without hesitation. You didn’t stick around for him to question you, either, and instead ran to complete the quest. Slowly, he tests the entryway, and enters with no resistance. He then finds you in your kitchen digging through the fridge, then pulling out an egg. As quickly as you can, you take a selfie and send it to Caroline. 

“Whew!” You breathe out, then notice him, “hi.”

“You completed your challenge?”

“Hopefully! But she might still come by because it was April that called her.”

“So I should probably leave.”

You bite your lip, not wanting him to go. 

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you invite me inside?”

“Because I needed you to find an egg. Which I found myself, so thanks,” you joke.

He smiles, but only for a second, “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know, I trust you.”

“Why? I’m a Mikaelson. The very family that your friends told you to avoid.”

“Well maybe I don’t like being told what to do. And maybe you don’t seem so bad to me.”

“I would like to prove your feelings right. I wish I could.” He says truthfully, catching your eyes. 

You start to look back, but then his words hit you. I wish I could. You straighten, then look away from his gaze. “Don’t compel me.”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare compel me to forget this. I don’t want to forget this. I don’t want to forget you. You, or your smile, or the things you’ve said. Please don’t take it away from me.”

“Y/N-”

“Please.”

He takes a deep breath. It must be done, but he hates it. He doesn’t want you to forget. In fact, he wants to know you deeper. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t. I won’t tell, I promise. If anything, compel me to never forget.”

“Y/N-”

“‘Lijah, don’t.” 

The nickname you’ve already given him weakens him. It renders him unable to finish the task; there’s no way he can force himself to compel you now. “Alright.”

“Wait, really?”

“If you’re sure you want to remember, but you’re sure you’ll never tell.”

“I promise. And I won’t say that I invited in a Mikaelson, either.”

He chuckles, “that would be wise.” He kisses your hand again. “I hope to see you again, Y/N.”

“You too. And thanks for taking me home.”

“Of course, love.”

After he leaves, you collapse on your couch, head swirling with thoughts of him. The words he said: how he described your time at the fountain, the beauty he saw in you. His own appearance: kind eyes, small wrinkles under them from a lack of sleep or hundreds of lifetimes lived, or both, a perfectly neat suit, the dark blue ring fitted on his finger. The way he watched you take Caroline’s picture with a smile on the edge of his lips. How he kissed your hand gently as a parting. 

Your cheeks are hot with blush, not to mention the heat you feel throughout your body. Butterflies are alive in your stomach. It all makes you feel so silly, but some part of you whispers that it’s love at first sight. 

◇◇◇◇

The minute Klaus hears the door open, he’s already yelling, “another sibling spending hours out and about in Mystic Falls. Where in the bloody hell have you been all day, Elijah?”

Elijah enters the room to find Klaus standing beside another painting, while the two other siblings sit on the couch. All three have glasses of bourbon and are sipping carefully. “What’s going on?”

“For once? Nothing. We all just happen to be here.”

“Where have you been, Elijah?” Rebekah turns around in her seat to question him. 

Before he can answer, Klaus chuckles, “let me guess! Out with a girl. You only wear that smile when you’ve found a girl to fancy.”

“Niklaus, I have not-”

“Oh don’t try, I’ve known you for a thousand years!”

“Better not be my girl, mate,” Kol mutters, though his tone isn’t rough like Klaus’. 

“Your girl is my girl, too, Kol. Remember that.”

“Heaven’s sake, you all are idiots.” Klaus turns back to his work, ignoring the three. 

Elijah ignores him right back, and instead looks down to the others. “Describe this girl you saw. Everything you remember.”

So, Kol and Rebekah do. Everything from your appearance, to the sound of your voice, and to the way you walked. The more they described, the more it sounded like the ‘you’ Elijah was with all day. When he admits this, their faces pale. 

“There’s no way all three of you idiots have fallen in love with the same girl,” Klaus mutters, still listening despite his annoyance. 

“It’s happened before, brother. Remember Mary?”

“I remember, Bekah, but that doesn't mean it’s plausible to happen again.”

“I think it is entirely plausible,” Kol admits, “in fact, I think this goes deeper than it did with Mary.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Something draws me to her. And it’s like I know her, yet I don’t at the same time. Do you guys feel this too, or is it just me?”

“No, I definitely feel it,” Elijah says, “and spending time with her today felt so natural. Like it was something I could never tire of.”

“You three sound so stupid. Talking like this girl, that two of you have never actually met, is your soulmate or something.”

“Well maybe you need to see her, Klaus. You’ll be in love instantly, I promise.”

Klaus rolls his eyes one more time at his youngest brother before going back to his painting. He refuses to admit the curiosity he feels towards you, and instead plays on animosity. His siblings don’t give up, though, and continue talking about their feelings for you until they all part to go to bed.

The following day, Elijah, Kol, and Rebekah actively seek you out in hopes of inviting you to dinner. They spent the morning planning that they’d find you and convince you to come over, where they could all gain your trust and get to know you better. The difficult part of this was getting you alone to talk. Elijah had warned his siblings about what you had said and told them to keep a close eye on their surroundings. He did also mention how excited you were to meet a Mikaelson, though, and said to use this to their advantage if one of them finds you instead of himself. 

So, in three different parts of the city, the siblings fan out and keep their eyes peeled for your presence. Shouldn’t be that hard to find; they’ll just follow the pull of their hearts. 

◇◇◇◇

For ten minutes, you’re able to sneak away, just long enough to visit your favorite store on the street corner. After meeting Elijah yesterday, the thought of being stuck in your house all day sounds miserable, and you are prepared to risk your friends’ wrath to see him again. Granted, inside the little shop is probably not the place you’d find him, but being out in the open at least makes it seem possible.

You are looking at a row of necklaces when a man comes up beside you. You don’t see his face, yet he doesn’t seem threatening to you, so you’re not too worried. 

“That color would look beautiful on you,” he says aloud. 

“Me?” You glance around to see if he’s talking to someone else.

“Yes, darling. I mean you.”

You blush instantly. “Thank you.”

“Let me get it for you.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. It must be expensive!”

“Not a problem for me. I happen to come from a well-off line.”

“Oh do you now?” You turn to face him fully. “And what line would that be?”

He smiles at you, then plucks the necklace from its place and brings it to the counter. Immediately after buying it, he’s fastening it around your neck. “As expected, you look beautiful.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“How could I not? It was made for you.”

“You’re too kind.” You reach your hand out for him to shake, “Y/N L/N.”

Instead of shaking it, he presses a kiss to the back, “Kol Mikaelson.”

He watches your eyes light up, just as Elijah said they would. “Mikaelson?”

“So you’ve heard of me?”

“Heard of you? Definitely.”

“And I heard you met my brother yesterday. God, he would not stop talking about how beautiful you are.” 

You blush deeper at the thought of Elijah talking about you to his family. Either that, or it’s because Kol’s still holding your hand gently. You’re not sure. 

“Say, Y/N, would it be possible I could invite you to dinner? I would love to get to know you better, and I know Elijah would love to see you again. Bekah, too, has a curiosity.”

“I, um…” you so desperately want to, but fear your friends finding out. “I want to, but I don’t know if I can.”

“If it’s Caroline Forbes you’re worried about, I bet we could fake an alibi.”

“It’s not just Caroline, it’s all of them. But, if we could think of a good enough alibi, I bet I could escape for a little bit.”

“Perfect, I will let my siblings know. This is our address, but if you need one of us to pick you up, my number’s on there, too.” He slips you a piece of paper. “I look forward to seeing you again, darling.”

“I do, too, Kol,” you smile. 

With one last kiss to your hand, he disappears from sight. 

You show up on the Mikaelsons’ porch at seven in one of your best outfits, playing with your hair nervously after ringing the doorbell. When the door swings open, the girl - Rebekah - is on the other side. 

Before you can greet her, she looks you up and down, “wow… you are gorgeous.”

The redness rises back to your cheeks, “thank you.”

“No wonder my brothers are smitten with you.”

“Don’t lie, Rebekah,” Kol’s voice rings through the house, “you know you are too.”

She rolls her eyes, “come inside, dear. We promise we won’t bite.”

You follow her into the house, smiling as you pass the threshold into the mansion. “It’s beautiful in here.”

“Not as beautiful as you, darling.” 

You’re starting to pick up on the affectionate nicknames that each gives you. Elijah calls you ‘love’; Kol calls you ‘darling’; and Rebekah just used ‘dear’. It’s one thing that they’ve all called you beautiful, but they all have nicknames for you, too. If they get any more romantic, your heart will flutter right out of your chest. 

Just as you think that, they do. Elijah and Kol both kiss your hands as they greet you, making you weak in the knees. 

“Thank you for coming, love. I’m glad you could join us.”

“Thank you for inviting me. About that alibi, Kol, I’m gonna need it tomorrow. No doubt I’ll get some kind of spoon-on-head, one-nail-painted-black kind of challenge that I’ll fail, and have to find an excuse for.”

The boy laughs, having been told by Elijah about Caroline’s antics. “We will certainly come up with something. But for now, are you hungry?”

“Yes, actually. And I’m excited to know what you guys eat when you’re not drinking blood,” you joke. The giggle fades out once you see the kitchen table, though. From end to end, it’s covered in dishes. “Holy crap.”

“Only the best for a woman such as yourself,” Kol sends you a wink. 

Rebekah pulls a chair out for you. “Stick around, and you’ll find we actually have quite the appetite for more than blood.”

“Oh that was just a joke,” you say, afraid you’ve offended her.

“No worries. I know it was.”

Soon, you’re all seated, except for the head of the table. “Um. Don’t you guys have another brother?”

“Niklaus, yes,” Elijah smiles at you, “he’s painting at the moment, but he should be here shortly. I apologize for his absence.”

“It’s okay! I was just curious.”

Speak of the devil, Klaus enters the room not a minute later. Elijah gestures to you immediately, introducing you. Klaus, still skeptical as to why his siblings are so obsessed with you, has a threat prepared that sits on his tongue. The three wait for it to come out, expecting it, and ready to defend. However, as soon as he looks at you, his mind is wiped of all things foul and offensive.

“Hello, love,” he says instead. 

All four of you are caught off guard. The tension in the room was thick; you were expecting an insult, too. Not to mention how Caroline speaks so poorly of the man. 

“Hi,” you respond, voice smaller than you’d like, “nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” He sits down with a newfound attitude towards you. “Tell me, how do you like Mystic Falls?”

After you answer his question, the five of you talk for the next two hours, sharing every bit about yourselves. They learn how you’ve lived in Mystic Falls your whole life, and have barely traveled out of the town. You discover they were born in Norway, but were turned in this very town, some thousand years ago. You find common ground in the parents’ department, none of you having the best relationships with your parents, especially your fathers. Though you get a glimpse into the abuse that they all faced from their father, and feel an indescribable rage towards the man you’ve never met. This part of the conversation helps you understand each of them better, including how that fear and anger has made them into one of the most dangerous families - a term they admit describes them well.  

“Dangerous,” Rebekah says, “but fiercely protective over those we love.” 

“Quite exactly the reason we are so dangerous,” Elijah adds to her statement, “we will do anything to protect whomever we love.”

Hearing the word from their lips makes your body shiver. A thought passes through your head wondering if you’d ever be someone that they’d protect that much. Something deep in your soul tells you that you already are. 

After the childhood topic, conversation moves onto lighter subjects. Everyone’s favorite foods, shows, and pastimes are shared. You learn the birth order of the four siblings in front of you, and discover that there’s three others not present. One of them, alive, but so disgusted that they’re vampires that he refuses to associate with them. This, in turn, gets a truth out of you, 

“Well you don’t have to worry about me, I think vampires are sexy,” you say before covering your mouth. Too much wine, you suppose. “I mean, I just think they’re cool. There’s a reason the gang tries to keep me in the dark about everything that goes on in the town.”

Eyes go wide, but maybe for the sake of your embarrassed gesture, the topic moves onto the so-called perfect group of miscreants. After, it shifts to your alibi that will be used to explain your disappearance. 

“You were bored and went to a restaurant to study. Lost track of time,” Kol tries his best.

“Ran to the store for a much needed grocery trip,” Klaus provides after his brother’s failed idea.

“Or,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, “you just fell asleep.”

“Watching a movie and falling asleep,” Elijah finishes, “so that you have about an hour to be engrossed in the movie, but then you nod off into a deep sleep.”

“I think Caroline would buy that. She always does get after me for not answering immediately.”

“Perfect,” Klaus concedes, “now I would like to know more about what you think makes vampires so sexy,” he says, smirking at you. 

You blush for a second, but then can’t help spilling the truths stacked on your tongue. 

◇◇◇◇

After that night, you stay in contact with the Mikaelsons, and even visit their mansion for several more dinners. In time, you find yourself getting close with each one. Most nights, Rebekah walks you home, and always kisses your cheek before leaving. Sometimes, too, she’s in your kitchen, making coffee or tea when you wake up. Kol visits you everytime Caroline puts you on “house arrest”, and tries to help you study to the best of his ability. That, or he distracts you completely, begging you to watch a movie with him instead. You almost always give into him. Elijah keeps up his charms of kind words and gentle touches. The moment he learns what your favorite flower is, he brings you one every time he sees you. 

Between the siblings, Klaus is the least trusting and the last to give into his desire to know you. Though the more he sees you with the others, the more jealous he becomes, and eventually, he cracks. His first gesture towards you is a painting of you standing in the Mikaelsons’ ballroom. He says he could picture you dancing in it, someday, in a beautiful dress made tailored just for you. After that, he’s now just as smitten as his siblings. 

You love being with all of them, separately and together. One thing though - you find your heart being torn in four different ways, and it scares you. You can’t break one of their hearts, nor do you want to, but there’s no way you could be with all of them. Look how that went for Elena and the Salvatores.

Oh, and speaking of Elena… you still haven’t even told your friends that you’re even hanging out with the Mikaelsons, much less that you’re in love with them. You feel bad keeping secrets from them, but you know how they’ll react if they find out. Even if you can prove the family has been nothing but kind, they’ll be overprotective and most likely try to ban you from seeing them entirely.

“Maybe I can just tell one of them,” you wonder out loud one night. Tonight was easy to get out of your house; everyone went to the grill to drink and you played the ‘too tired’ card. Little did they know what you were actually going back to the family’s mansion.

“Who would you start with?” Rebekah asks from behind as she plays with your hair. 

“Caroline, maybe? I’m closest to her. But with Elena, I could use the excuse that she’s dating a vampire who’s almost just as dangerous.”

Klaus scoffs playfully, “almost as? Love, he doesn’t come close.”

“Well I know that, but some people think he’s pretty dangerous.”

“Oh he certainly is. But when it comes down to it, my family will always come out on top.” 

You remember the conversation from your first night meeting them. How you wondered if you’d ever be one they’d fight to the death to protect. Klaus answers this for you now. “Like we said before, we protect those we love. That includes you, little one.”

Your eyes snap up to him. “Me?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We open our home to you; share our deepest and darkest secrets. We don’t do that with just anyone. There’s something different about you.”

“He’s right,” Kol comes beside you on the couch to sit down, “you’re one of us now.”

Elijah clears his throat, a little worried the two will scare you away, “if you’re comfortable with that, of course. Do not feel pressured in any way. We will not be upset.”

As he’s talking, you reach your hands out for Kol to lean against you. The youngest boy does, putting his head on your shoulder, while you wrap your arms around his neck. “Pressure? No, I don’t feel pressured. I love hanging out with you guys. I love-” you pause, blinking. You’re not sure what to say. 

“Y/N?” Elijah starts. 

“I’m… I don’t know… I’m confused, and I feel awful for it, but I… I don’t even know what to say.”

“What’s wrong, girlie?” Rebekah kisses the top of your head gently. The boys focus their attention on you fully. “I promise, whatever you say, you don’t have to feel awful.”

“Bekah’s right, you can tell us anything.”

“I just… I love you guys. I love being with you all as a family, but then, I don’t know, I love you all separately, too.” They say nothing, so you continue. “And it’s not just a friendly thing, either. It’s like blushing, butterflies in the stomach, wanting to be with you kind of love. Which would be okay if I fell for only one of you - well, actually, it wouldn’t, because then I’d hurt the rest of you - but it’s not just one. I love all of you like that.”

Elijah’s first to speak. “Why do you think that would be wrong?”

“What?”

“Why is that a bad thing to you?”

You stare at him, “I can’t have a thing with four different siblings. That’s crazy, right?”

You can’t see her face, but Rebekah’s smiling wide. “Are there any rules when it comes to love?”

And before you can answer her, Klaus follows up, “crazy pretty much defines this family, I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

“Hold on,” you put up a finger, even more confused, but now for a different reason. “You are all okay with this?”

“We may have had a talk,” Elijah says, sitting down, “the night after you first came here. You see, we’ve all shared lovers before, so this is nothing new to us. However, usually they rotate. Start with Klaus, move onto Kol, have a fling with Bekah, start something with me, and then they go. But, as you’ve heard us say plenty a time, you’re much different.”

You nod, “so what was the talk?”

“Well, dear Y/N, none of us can quite keep our feelings about you to ourselves. Nor do we ever think we could tire of loving you.” Elijah’s slow and cryptic talk is making you antsy. Apparently, it’s frustrating Kol, too.

“Do you believe in soulmates, darling?”

“Soulmates? Um, ish? I mean, Caroline and I used to entertain the idea as kids.”

“Would it be absolutely crazy to entertain the possibility that you’ve met yours? And perhaps it to be in the form of four siblings to whom you’ve just admitted your love?”

“I-” slowly, it hits you. His words sink into your head and your heart at the same time. A fire burns, heating your palms, reddening your cheeks. 

“Because polyamory was a thing with the Ancient Greeks, though it’s not too common anymore. But then again, here you have four siblings who love you just as dearly. In that same ‘butterflies and a warm feeling’ that you described.”

“I, um…”

“If you had let me explain it, you wouldn’t have scared her,” Elijah chides his brother. 

“You were taking too long. I’ve been waiting a thousand years to tell this girl I love her.”

Hearing the three words finally broke the dam. Whatever fear you did have melts away instantly. “It’s okay,” you mutter. “It’s clear to me now. I do love you. All of you. As crazy as it sounds, I can’t deny my feelings; I don’t want to. I love you.”

Immediately, Kol spins around so he can kiss you properly. You kiss him back, relaxing into his hands which hold onto your face. As soon as he breaks it off, Rebekah mutters that he needs to move, and then she kisses you, too. 

“I just have one question,” you pant, out of breath from the excitement. 

“And what is that?”

“How do I know this isn’t going to end terribly, like how Stefan and Elena’s relationship did ever since she fell in love with his brother?”

“Because,” Klaus zips across the room to put less distance between you two, “we all love you and are quite capable of sharing. We’ve lived thousands of years together, and have been looking for you for thousands more.”

“Besides, there’s this cool thing called communication that we do that the Salvatores like to ignore. Take it from someone who’s slept with both,” Rebekah adds. 

You crinkle your nose at the information, “no more sleeping with Salvatores.” You pull her back in for another kiss, “you’re mine now.”

When you let go of Bex, Klaus steals his turn, and then Elijah. It’s a little overwhelming, but your worries are overpowered by how much love you feel from them, and by how much you want to give them in return.

After you all settle down, you let out a giggle. “I had nearly given up on the idea of finding my soulmate. Little did I know I’d be so lucky to have four.”

“Not as lucky as us,” Elijah claims the last word, “to have found our girl after thousands of years of searching.”

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where Louis is a villain of some sort as requested in an ask I can no longer find oof Hope you see this rec whoever asked for it! If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

💀 Wanted Most by BornOnABeach

(E, 156k, thief Louis) Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don't understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

💀 Cover Me with Jewels by ShatteredGlassHouse / @larryislove

(E, 55k, thief Louis) the one where Louis is a jewel thief and dating Harry Styles, the heir to a designer jewellery business empire, but Louis worries Harry will discover him, so he disappears for five years. 

💀 Tied Down by HamPalpert

(E, 48k, drug dealer Louis) The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson. 

💀 I'll Throw Away My Faith (Just To Keep You Safe) by @theboyfriendstagram

(E, 42k, assassin Louis) AU. Harry Styles is an MI6 agent on a mission to find out who’s planning on killing the Prime Minister. Louis Tomlinson is a wanted professional assassin, hired by the MI6 to kill whoever wants to kill the Prime Minister.

💀 Please, Deceive Me by Larringiscaring

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis robs casino's with his ex-boyfriend, and Harry trusts a criminal a little more than he should

💀 no pressure, no diamonds by @karamelised

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

💀 Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 40k, thief Louis) Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.

💀 The Risen (series) by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 28k, cult au) In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.

💀 For You, I Will (I Don't Believe in Magic, but) by theweightofmywords / @lil0

(E, 17k, criminal Louis) Louis leads two lives, when all he wants is a simple one with Harry.

💀 focal point by rainbowsandgucci

(M, 8k, thief Louis) By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking. Last night was lovely, Harry, I’m sure you agree. Sorry to run, but that’s just how life works sometimes, I’m sure you understand. Don’t forget about me. xx P.S. Thanks for the money

💀 Daisy by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve

(E, 3k, mob au) An assassin who lurks in shadows, who kills with a detachment towards his victims, their death always displayed artfully for anyone who stumbles upon the corpse once his work is done.

💀 Stealing My Trust by Phillipa19

(E, 3k, organized crime) Harry hates the danger Louis' 'job' puts him in, but no one ever said being in love with a criminal would be easy.

💀 we're swimming with the sharks until we drown by velvetnoodle

(T, 3k, thief Louis) There’s only one thing that makes Harry’s job on the casino floor bearable, and that’s a chance to grab the attention of the mysterious man who frequents the establishment often.

💀 How to Catch a Christmas Tree by Anonymous

(E, 2k, omegaverse) It's two days until Christmas and Harry needs a Christmas tree.

💀 Marionette by Anonymous

(E, 2k, witch Louis) Harry is a vampire on the hunt. He doesn’t know that he’s not the top of the food chain.

💀 The shape I've made you into by flamboyo / @riverswater

(M, 1k, established relationship) "Sometimes, I wish you'd hit me."

💀 Twenty-Eight by @beardyboyzx

(M, 1k, spy au) Agent Harry Styles has finally caught his nemesis, but there's a knot in the plot he's not ready to detangle.

- Rare Pairs -

💀 To Catch a Thief by StormDancer

(E, 49k, Zayn/Louis) There are some rules even thieves have trouble breaking. Marriage vows, for instance.