#*looks away* I just lurk and laugh at tweets I don’t be on there like that unless I’m ready to talk with friends and mutuals in the DM’s or

[tariah23]

I keep on seeing jjk fans in twitter use nooticing as a joke and I feel like most of them just think it’s a meme and don’t know that it’s a white supremacists dog whistle and it’s getting weird 😵‍💫.

[sesamestreep]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 4

Write about your MC’s personal style (from this list) ➸ set in the Bakeoff AU, before the events of summer came like cinnamon, so sweet and referencing an event from the first chapter of @firstelevens original fic in the series (sugar pie, honey bunch) and yes, I'm aware this is a huuuuge stretch for this prompt, don't worry about it!

Karen’s just left them to go get another round from the bar when Foggy’s phone starts ringing. On the screen, a photo of Daisy looking comically crestfallen while holding a ruined sufflé pops up and Foggy swipes to accept the call immediately.

“Hey, Daisy, what’s up?” he asks, aiming for casual but…well, Daisy’s roughly his age and avoids talking on the phone as much as anyone of their generation does, if not more. He’s slightly concerned that something must be wrong. Across from him, Matt’s expression turns pinched, probably because he’s thinking the same thing or he can hear the worry in Foggy’s voice.

“Did you watch the episode last night?” Daisy asks, without preamble or greeting. 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, me and Karen did. Matt fell asleep like ten minutes in.”

Daisy scoffs over the line at the same time as Matt says, “I already apologized like five times for that!”

Pulling the phone away from his mouth slightly, Foggy says, “I know you did. And I forgive you. I know how important your beauty sleep is to you.”

Matt rolls his eyes, looking vaguely embarrassed at the same time. Foggy’s not sure if the extended time away during the show has made old things he’d gotten used to before new again or if this really is something new, but Matt’s easier to fluster than he remembered. Foggy could have sworn he made lots of jokes about Matt’s good looks and Matt always just brushed them off. This new shyness about it is surprising.

“Anyway,” Foggy says, turning his attention back to Daisy, “I saw the episode. Why do you ask?”

“Have you been online at all today?”

“You mean, have I been connected to the Internet at all? Yes, of course, Daisy, come on!”

“No, I mean, on social media,” Daisy says, impatiently.

“I don’t really use social media. You know that.”

“I know you have your finsta,” she replies. “I didn’t know if anyone had tagged you in anything there. Or if you have a dummy twitter account to lurk sometimes.”

Foggy laughs. “God, no!”

“Don’t say it like it’s totally ludicrous! People do it!”

“Yeah, but not me,” Foggy says, still laughing. “I’m just a simple country lawyer. What need have I of your twitters and your algorithms?”

He feels like he can hear Daisy roll her eyes on the other end of the call. “You’re such a dork!”

“Sorry. What’s so important that you needed to call me on the phone to ask if I have a secret Twitter account?”

“The Internet is freaking out about you, Foggy Nelson.”

Foggy’s stomach sinks. “It is?” he asks. “What did I do?”

“You looked too damn hot in this week’s episode, apparently.”

“I—what?” Foggy asks, feeling so utterly stupid. None of those words made any sense to him, which is troubling because most of them were pretty simple. “Wait, did I look really sweaty or something?”

“No, dumbass,” Daisy says, “I mean ‘hot’ like ‘god, he’s so hot, I want to have his babies,’ which, by the way, is a real tweet I read about you not fifteen minutes ago.”

“What?!” Foggy basically shouts, which makes Matt lean forward in his seat and give him a questioning look.

“Your humility is really beyond the pale, Franklin. It’s like you don’t know you’re hot!”

“I don’t know that,” he says, still freaking out slightly. “I’ve been called that by three, maybe four people in my whole life before today! It’s not a common occurrence.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Daisy says, because she’s fundamentally loyal and it makes her confused sometimes. 

“Well, if it’s happening a lot, it must be behind my back, then.”

Matt, apparently done with being out of the loop, reaches across the table to poke Foggy’s wrist with his index finger. Foggy replies in turn by patting Matt’s hand with his twice, hoping that conveys that there’s no emergency. 

“Well, it’s happening a lot on Twitter right now,” Daisy replies. “Which, I guess is still behind your back, technically.”

“That’s…great, I guess…”

“I thought you’d be happier,” she says, sounding worried. “You seem upset.”

“It’s just weird to think about,” Foggy says, keeping his tone mild. He’s not mad at Daisy by any stretch, but having people outside of the neighborhood know who he is and have strong opinions about him has proven to be a tougher concept to reckon with than he originally anticipated. “It’s that thing of being perceived in a way that I have no control over.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Daisy replies, thoughtfully. “I just…I thought you should know you’re the Internet’s reigning boyfriend at the moment.”

Foggy laughs, still feeling weird but in a warmer, cozier way than before. “Well, it’s an honor to be somebody’s boyfriend, I suppose.”

Matt’s head perks up at that, like a dog who’s heard a strange noise, and Foggy resists the urge to laugh at him for it. Karen returns with their next round at that precise moment, too, and makes a face at this pronouncement as she slides Foggy’s beer across the table to him. He also sees her look over at Matt, as if he’ll have more answers somehow.

“I’m guessing based on your blasé reaction to this news that I shouldn’t send you a curated collection of mine and Colleen’s favorite tweets about how gorgeous you are?” Daisy asks, innocently.

“For the sake of my mental health, you probably shouldn’t,” Foggy replies, “but honestly, today’s been a weird one and we had a miserable time in court, so it might cheer me up.”

Daisy squeals excitedly, which is not a noise Foggy knew she made before this very moment. She didn’t even make that noise when she won Bake-Off, not that he’s allowed to tell anyone that yet. “That’s what I like to hear,” she exclaims. “Alright, well, get ready for some screenshots. And also sorry in advance for any psychological damage I may cause.”

“Thanks,” Foggy laughs. “Both for the apologies in advance and for making sure I knew about this.”

“What are friends for?” Daisy sighs happily, and then hangs up without a goodbye.

“What’s going on?” Karen asks as she takes a sip from her beer.

“Have you been on Twitter today?” he asks, in response.

“I’m a journalist, Foggy. Unfortunately, most of my life is spent on Twitter.”

“Do you follow any Bake-Off people there?”

“I might follow the official twitter for the show itself, but I’m not sure. Why?”

“Apparently, Twitter is freaking out about me in last night’s episode.”

“Really? What do they have to freak out about?” Matt asks, frowning.

Foggy shrugs. “I don’t know. Just me, I guess? I looked good or something.”

“I told you that you looked good last night,” Karen says, gesturing broadly to convey her annoyance. “You didn’t believe me.”

“You’re one of my best friends, Karen. You have to lie to me about that kind of thing!”

“No, I don’t! And I wasn’t!”

“Well, you’re about to be vindicated,” Foggy says. “Daisy and Colleen are sending me screenshots.”

As if on cue, Foggy’s phone lights up with several messages being sent to his and Colleen and Daisy’s group chat and the notifications don’t slow down at all for another full minute.

“God,” Foggy says, just looking at the new messages pouring in. “She wasn’t kidding.”

“You want to read them,” Karen asks, with a bright, dangerous look in her eye, “or shall I?”

Foggy hands over his phone without a second thought. “Probably better if you do it,” he says, feeling genuine panic and terror at the idea. It’s too late to go back now, though. He’s gotten her hopes up.

“Oh my god,” Karen says, after he’s gotten his phone unlocked for her. She puts her hand to her mouth to disguise her…horror? Amusement? Both? It’s hard to tell.

“What?” Foggy asks, anxiously, and Matt turns over his hand underneath Foggy’s palm so he can give it a quick squeeze, which…that shouldn’t be as soothing as it actually is. It’s, frankly, ridiculous that it helps so much.

“Foggy,” Karen says, excitedly, “you’re a sensation!”

+

guy with no problems • juliachildsplay

um… hello?? Foggy coming into the tent with those little braids??? I’m experiencing symptoms????

the hateful nate • nateorade

I’ve been online too long because the minute I saw Foggy Nelson with his hair in braids, I just shouted OOOHHH GENDER!! at the top of my lungs. my gf and my cat both left the room in protest.

kelly nguyen • gaygrenadine

me normally: it’s so embarrassing when cis dudes get so much credit for the mildest defiance of gender norms… me seeing foggy’s braids in GABO: yasss queen thank you for my rights 🌈🙌 gender is sooo over!!

brynn it to wynn it • flibbertigibbety

I did not actually think Foggy could get hotter to me than when he responded to people ridiculing his French pronunciation by revealing he speaks fluent Punjabi, but I was WRONG!! 

Ezekiel (he/they) • ezeydoesitt

how is anyone getting any baking done right now when foggy is there looking so so good?? couldn’t be me!!!

world’s #1 trilla apologist • eldritchedeelite

lord, I am not one of your strongest soldiers… foggy in that salmon colored t-shirt and those braids… I am WEAK

dinah (derogatory) • surelytemple

my two cents is that Ava deserves star baker this week because she is somehow still baking with foggy nelson’s whole beautiful self directly in her eye line. talk about performing under pressure.

bram (not stoker) • bramblinnmann

I am watching bakeoff with my family right now and it’s getting very difficult to pretend to be straight in front of them when Foggy’s out here looking this hot

your future canceled wife • thecouturevulture

THEM: hey how was bakeoff this week? what did everyone make? was it good? ME: FOGGY NELSON WORE HIS HAIR IN BRAIDS!!! 

citizen paddington  • genderemporia

I literally couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened in this episode of GABO. Foggy appeared onscreen and my brain shut off for the next hour. I came to and I was googling wedding venues, idk man

Kira Iris • villainesque

I don’t condone people getting obsessed with public figures and violating their privacy but if some of yall wanted to be weird and find out if Foggy’s “partner” he references is a business thing or a romantic thing, I would look the other way just this once

Default Username, Esq. • shrimpheavencanwait

thank god foggy nelson isn’t on social media or I would be embarrassing myself I would be in those DMs like cheese filling in a danish I would be bringing shame upon my ancestors for that man I promise you

Helena Bee 🐝♿️ • bananabreadcrumbs

that part of the episode where Colleen walked behind Foggy and pulled one of his braids to say hello and he smiled at her??? It just hurts to see other people live your dreams???

spy x savage x fenty  • coolnormalchill

foggy deserves star baker because he cured my depression and my gender dysphoria in one fell swoop and that’s that on that

Lindy the SEO bitch • easilysearchablebrandname

other bakers: [make the snack] Foggy Nelson: [is the snack]

sayid’s secret account! • sayidsayless

I didn’t hear who won star baker, I didn’t see who got sent home, l learned nothing about sweet dough, I was busy googling foggy nelson Instagram foggy nelson partner foggy nelson star sign 

hb lovecraft • hazelbleu

I've already decided to call out sick from work tomorrow so I can spend the whole day watching the inevitable Foggy fancams that will come from this week’s GABO. It’s my duty as an American.

go gert go • yorkestown

if there’s any uneven bakes this week, we all know it’s because Foggy was simply too hot to handle and it threw off everyone’s baking times

SORRY 4 PARTY BROCKIN’ • attackthebrock

foggy saying that one thing he loves about bakeoff is never having a shortage of people to share his bakes with, because normally it’s just up to his partner to finish them. ME AND WHO TBH????

nora mcclain 👻🥀🖤 • themostest

Foggy explaining the hot cross bun recipe he’s making prompted my (allegedly) straight husband to say, out of nowhere, “I’d let him put a bun in MY oven!” Like, sir??? I’m right here???

stardew valley girl • wooloolemon

it’s crazy how many babies are going to be born nine months from the airing of Great American Bake-Off Season 3 Episode 6

Tolkien Straightguy • helmsdeepthroat

it’s pretty normal for me to end an episode of bake-off hungrier than I was before, but I’ve never finished one this THIRSTY my god

maddie📍grad school hell • doctorwormphd

seeing foggy with those french braids made me crazy y’all!! I almost redownloaded tinder I was so lost in the sauce

blandine montpetit ☮️💟 • peaceandloafs

Ava’s star baker moment was so deserved, I’m just sorry we were all too distracted by Foggy being the cutest human alive to really appreciate it. But not sorry enough that it won’t happen again.

+

“We’ve strayed very far from the light of god, I think,” Foggy says, with his face pressed into the sticky surface of the table, which…yeah, bad idea, but one of many he’s had tonight. Matt pats the back of his neck with a hand that was maybe supposed to be more in the direction of his head and ended up somewhere more weirdly intimate by accident. Foggy lifts his head to put an end to it, not because it didn’t feel nice but precisely because it did and that in turn makes him feel a bunch of messy emotions he doesn’t like. “Karen, what are you doing? Are there more?”

“Yes, but they’re getting a little redundant, honestly,” she says, squinting at his phone’s screen. “Everybody wants you to impregnate them, apparently.”

Matt chokes on air at the same time as Foggy chokes on his beer, so it takes both of them a few seconds to recover and respond. 

“They what?” Matt asks, looking pale.

“The power of a new hairstyle,” Karen says, with a self-satisfied smile, though she directs it at Matt, for some reason. They have a lot more meaningful looks and mysterious half-conversations these days than they used to before Foggy went away to film the show. At least, that’s how it feels to him and if Karen didn’t have a boyfriend that she seemed to love a lot, he’d be worried that she and Matt were going to try dating again, for all it was a disaster the (admittedly brief) first time. Instead, it feels like they developed a shorthand while he was away and, granted he also made a bunch of close friends who he essentially talks to in baking-themed twin speak, it still makes him feel strange. He didn’t think him being away for the time that he was would change so much, but apparently it did. Matt and Karen speak in code now, and the Internet wants to fuck him. Life is strange.

“Do you really talk about me on the show that much?” Matt asks, apropos of nothing, it feels like.

“What? What do you mean?”

“A lot of those tweets referenced you talking about your partner,” Matt replies, looking thoughtful. “That’s me, I assume.”

“Yes, obviously,” Foggy says as his face heats. “Why shouldn’t I talk about you?”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I just didn’t realize it was enough to be noticeable.”

“One thing I’ve learned about the Bake-Off viewers is that they notice everything,” Foggy says. “And I don’t mean to talk about you a lot, but you’re important to me and you’re in most of my stories and…all that…”

Matt seems to be thinking hard about that, while Karen is sitting with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, still scrolling through Foggy’s phone. 

“What are you doing over there, Page?” Foggy asks, in the hopes of distracting everyone from the corny admission he just made that got met with silence. 

“Just sending a few of these to my phone,” she says, with a sheepish look. “I want to show Frank.”

“God, no!” Foggy yelps as he reaches out to snatch his phone back. “I don’t need Frank knowing about these! It’s bad enough Matt had to hear them!”

“Why is it bad for me to know?” Matt asks, startled out of his reverie by the mention of his name.

“Because you think all of this is stupid!”

“All of what? Twitter?”

“No,” Foggy sighs, and then thinks it over. “I mean, I assume you do think Twitter is largely stupid, actually—”

“And you’d be right,” Karen adds.

“What I meant was you think all this stuff about the show is stupid.”

“No, I don’t,” Matt says, frowning. “I mean, I confess I don’t understand half the stuff you say on the show or about it, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s stupid. If anything, it makes me think I’m stupid.”

“Well, you certainly can’t be impressed by everything Karen just read us,” Foggy replies, gesturing with his phone. He’s aware, in the back of his mind, that he’s doing that thing you’re never supposed to do and negotiating against himself, but he can’t really stop it, for some reason. “It makes the fans of the show sound insane!”

“I understood even less of that than I do of the baking terminology, honestly,” Matt admits, “but I think most of those people have the right idea.”

“You mean, hitting on Foggy via Twitter? You think that’s the right move in this situation?” Karen asks, and there’s some kind of play acting going on in her tone, like she’s goading Matt about something that Foggy doesn’t have the context for.

“I’m saying Foggy’s loveable,” Matt replies to her with an unexpected amount of heat. “I don’t know why he acts like he isn’t.”

Foggy blinks at them, feeling like he’s stepped into the middle of an old argument he didn’t know about. “Am I still a part of this conversation, or…?”

Karen’s expression clears first and she turns to Foggy with a reluctantly amused expression, like she doesn’t know what to do with him, he’s so silly. “Of course you are! Matt and I were just agreeing about how great we think you are! That’s all!”

“Yeah, sure,” Foggy replies. It sure as hell didn’t sound like two people agreeing on anything, but he’s willing to let it go. “Well, if I’ve learned anything from this uncomfortable incident, it’s that I should braid my hair more often.”

“And that you look good in that salmon-colored shirt,” Karen adds, helpfully. 

“Which is too bad, because I spilled ink all over it a few weeks ago.”

“Writing with a quill again?” Matt asks, innocently.

“No, I was helping Ruthie,” Foggy says, rolling his eyes when Matt’s smiles stupidly at his own joke. “Her newest hobby is calligraphy.”

“I thought she was into knitting now?” Karen says.

“Old news,” Foggy replies. “I’m just praying her next kick is baking so it can be something I’m even remotely good at.”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask that she gets really interested in reading up on legal precedent, huh?” Matt asks, thoughtfully.

“Yeah, probably,” Foggy laughs. “The point is, my magical salmon shirt that apparently makes me irresistible to random people on the Internet is out of commission.”

“Oh, well,” Karen sighs. “You’ll just have to subsist on the attentions of your local admirers.”

Foggy takes a sip of his beer. “I wasn’t aware I had any of those,” he says.

“Probably a lot more than you think,” she says, and she’s giving Matt another one of those weird looks again. Foggy decides it’s probably safer not to ask, and resolves to change the subject instead.

[katyasrussianaccent]

i don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips (corpse x reader)

Summary: Corpse suggests you flirt with each other to mess with the fans. What happens when you suddenly catch feelings?

Authors Note: This has been in my brain for so long so I decided to write it. May or may not write a part 2, im not sure. Lemme know what you think! My requests are open for fic/headcannons aswell 💖

It should have been simple.

Flirt, mess with the fans a little, sit back and relax.

It should have been simple.

You remember Corpse coming to you with the idea.

“Why would we do that?” you had asked, frowning at your phone screen. It had been another late night phone conversation with him; something that was starting to become a regular occurrence.

You pictured him shrug as he answered. “Fun?”

“Are you so bored you wanna make a fake relationship with me?”

“Not a relationship. Just do what we do now, but like, more.”

You had agreed before your brain had even registered it. On paper it was straightforward. You already flirted a little anyway, you were naturally a flirtatious person, and so was he. It made sense; or at least you had told yourself that it did. You knew the fans already shipped you together, you saw the things they tweeted as you occasionally lurked the ynhusband tag on Twitter. It was just innocent fun right? No-one was going to get hurt.

For a little while that was true. For a little while he called you baby and you called him darling and it meant nothing. Your face didn’t feel flush when he commented on your latest Instagram post and your heart didn’t do a little flip when he would call you just to see how you were. The phone conversations were your favourite; curled up in bed with the phone on your pillow, trading secrets into the night. He had suddenly become this constant in your life, this almost routine familiarity like brushing your teeth or going to get milk.

You weren’t sure what changed, when it had gone from being innocent fun to meaning something. It was like someone had flicked a switch, and Corpse was no longer a warm glow but this bright, blinding light that hurt your eyes to look at too long. It was almost cruel, the way you wanted something so unobtainable; the universe’s idea of a joke had no humour in it. The thing with Corpse was he was so unaware of the power he had. He was mysterious yes, but he was faceless among a sea of faces; of course people were drawn to him. And you were just another.

You started to pull away. You played different games with different people, you ignored his tweets. It was easier, if you never interacted with him, you could pretend there was nothing but shallow feelings instead of the crashing waves that threatened to pull you under. The fans had started to notice; your streams were filled with questions that you refused to answer.

“Where’s Corpse?” you read aloud as you scrolled down the chat. “Probably in his house? Go ask him.” Your tone was bitter even to you and you inwardly cringed. He hadn’t contacted you in 2 weeks, and while you were thankful, you were hurt by it. It was stupid and hypoctritical of you to be upset by something that was your own doing, and you weren’t sure what you had expected from him. He had other friends, other people to talk to, why would he have cared about you anyway?

Your phone lit up next to you, and you ignored the pang of disappointment at Rae’s picture flashing up.

Rae: Among Us???

You hesitated for a second. The likelihood of Corpse being there was high, but you knew deep down he wouldn’t say a thing to you, not on stream or in front of your friends. You could just ignore him, like you had been doing and it would be fine. You weren’t sure you believed yourself anymore.

“Guys, you want to watch me play Among Us? I’m not sure who’s playing, other than Rae.” You looked at the fast flowing stream of affirmatives and emojis. Guess you had to do it now. You opened up the game and joined the lobby.

“-yeah she looks really fucking cute,” you heard Corpse say as you logged in. You looked down at your outfit,; he definitely wasn’t talking about you in your oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. You had been on stream for a few hours now; your eyeliner was smudged a little and any lipstick had worn off with the constant drinking and licking your lips. No, he definitely wasn’t talking about you.

“Hey guys,” you said tentatively, swallowing down the feeling of jealousy at Corpse’s previous words.

A chorus of greetings hit you, and you smiled at their enthusiasm. You had played with Rae, Sykunno and Toast a few times before, but Felix, Jack and Ash were new to you, though you knew of them.

“Hey Y/N,” Corpse said. You had hoped after 2 weeks he wouldn’t still affect you so much, but the way your stomach turned said otherwise.

“Hey Corpse,” you replied, hoping your tone was casual.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?” he asked.

“Oh. Uh yeah, I’ve been a bit busy I guess, how are you?” You looked down as you answered, picking at your nail polish. You glanced at the chat that was filled with messages.

corpsesbaby: You can always tell when someones lying coz they look down” llamadelrey: why is this so awkward lmao arent they friends??” simpsforrae: This is like is a breakup i swear

“I’ve been okay, thanks” Corpse answered, drawing your eyes off the chat and back to the game. You nodded as you muted your mic to go back to your stream.

“I hope I don’t get imposter, I always suck at that so much.” You watched as the screen counted down and the word IMPOSTER flashed up alongside Corpse’s name. “Guess I jinxed it guys.”

Great. Not only were you imposter, you were imposter with Corpse, which meant you would have to actually speak to him. Maybe you wouldn’t have to.

You both followed Rae as she walked up towards Greenhouse, and you cornered her while she did her task, killing her quickly.

“Everyone seemed to go right, so we should vent back towards cafeteria to avoid suspicion,” Corpse said.

“Okay,” you answered. You vented together, and you muted your mic to laugh. “This is kinda cosy guys.” You said to your chat. You briefly imagined what it would be like in real life to be so close to him.

You moved to Admin where Toast was doing his task. Before you could say a word, Corpse had already killed him and you both vented outside Cafeteria. “Fuck, that was so close,” you muttered, chuckling a little.

“Don’t worry, I got your back,” he replied, making your heart sing a little.

“Oh my hero,” you said, making a point of swooning to your chat, your voice high and airy. “How will I ever repay you?”

He chuckled, “You shouldn’t ask questions like that.”

You flushed at the suggestive tone he had taken, and you hoped it wasn’t noticeable but judging by the comments in your chat, it clearly had been. This was another issue you had with Corpse; he always made these type of comments with you and it was really annoying. You knew there was no chance he was being serious, and sometimes you wished he would stop it purely because it got your hopes up.

delilah: shes BLUSHING dreamofme: uWu yn uWu

You opened your mouth to respond when Dead Body Reported flashed up, bringing your thoughts back to the game.

“Toast and Rae are dead,” Sykuuno said. “I found Rae in Greenhouse and Toast in admin.”

“I was in balcony, I went there from the cafeteria,” you said confidently. You hated being Imposter, especially being teamed with Corpse, who was so good at the game, you had a lot of pressure to do well.

“I was in MedBay, I didn’t see you YN,” Ash accused.

“You only see if they enter through the left door. She entered through the other door,” Corpse answered for you.

“And how do you know that?” Felix asked.

“I was in Cafeteria,” Corpse replied.

“You could’ve vented YN,” Jack said.

“No I couldn’t have, if Ash was in MedBay, she would have seen me. Unless she wasn’t in MedBay,” you suggested, smirking to your cam as you muted. “It’s not going too bad I don’t think? Always feel like I’ve been arrested when I’m Imposter.”

“Little sus of you Ash to say you were in MedBay when you weren’t,” Corpse said. You gaped a little at how easy it was for him to manipulate the situation, it was almost scary.

Ash argued as the other players began to agree and discuss among themselves. You smiled in success at the text on the screen.

Ash has been ejected.

You split up this time, and while you hadn’t really spoken during the game, you kind of missed Corpse’s astronaut next to yours, and you said that to your chat. “Haha, our colours did look cute together, I agree.”

Any previous trepidation you had had disappeared as soon as you had heard his voice; and you realised how much you had missed him. You would simply just need to deal with your feelings; they would go away eventually anyway. You just hoped it wasn’t too late for you to start again with him.

You walked to MedBay with Skyunno, making small talk as you did.

“I’m glad to see you playing with us, it’s been a little while,” he said and you felt bad that you would have to kill him. As you turned towards him, ready to kill as he did his task, Jack walked in. You mouthed oops at the cam.

“What’s going on here?” Jack asked, suspicion in his voice.

“I was just saying how nice it was to have YN here,” Sykunno replied. You stood and faked your task, watching the green bar fill as you did. It would be too risky to kill here.

“Ah yeah, Corpse has been asking after you constantly,” Jack said. You blinked at the response, it had caught you off guard.

“Oh?” you replied simply. You mentally shrugged it off. Of course he would have asked about you, you were friends, that was all.

DEAD BODY REPORTED

“Felix was dead in Reactor,” Corpse announced. “Oh Corpse, you’re taking a risk here” you said to your chat.

“I was in MedBay with Jack and Sykunno,” you replied, smiling as they agreed. “Where were you Ash?”

She sighed sadly. “I was in Labs, but I was doing a task, I swear!” You all agreed quickly that Ash would be the next voted out.

“2 to go,” you said triumphantly. “I thought I was gonna drag Corpse down, but it’s going okay!”

The round started again and you could feel yourself getting tired. Hopefully this wouldn’t be too much longer to finish the game.

You circled round Corpse a few times, hoping that he would understand your signal. Luckily he did, and you both vented to Decontamination where Skyunno and Jack were. The room had already started to emit steam, making it extremely easy for you both to vent unnoticed and kill them both.

You grinned at the Victory message that flashed up.

“Good game guys!” you said. The others congratulated you and Corpse on your win and you smiled at the sound of your names together. You had it bad.

“It was all YN,” Corpse said.

“Pfft you ssh being humble, it was all you,” you replied, taking your hair out of your ponytail and running your hand through it.

“Your hair looks nice,” Corpse commented and your eyes widened. Your heart started to beat a little quicker. How long had he been watching your stream?

“It’s bad to watch someone’s stream without telling them,” you replied, making a show of pouting for the camera.

He laughed a little. “What can I say, I’m a bad guy,” he said, singing the last words. You laughed at the sudden Billie Eilish.

“Guys, either play another game, or get a room,” Felix interrupted. You blushed a little and rolled your eyes, the chat going crazy from the corner of your eye.

“And that’s my cue to exit,” you said, yawning. “Bye guys, have a good night!” You wished everyone and your chat goodnight before closing the stream and leaning back in your chat. You couldn’t believe Corpse had been watching you. You hadn’t said anything too incriminating, but still.

You prepared for bed, settling back into the softness of your pillows as you grabbed your phone - a terrible habit you really needed to stop.

Corpse: Can I call you?

You gulped at the message that appeared on your screen, a gnawing feeling of nervous clung to your throat as you typed yes. His name came up almost instantaneously and your hand shook as you pressed to accept the call.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even while your heart beat erratically in your chest.

“It was nice playing with you again,” he commented.

You sat up a little as you held the phone against your ear. “Did you call me to tell me that?”

“I haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

You sighed a little. “Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy, sorry - “

“You’re lying to me and I don’t know why,” he replied. You had never heard his voice like that before; so angry and hurt. You tapped your foot against your mattress as you thought what to say.

“I -”

“Did I do something?” he asked. You had been so selfish; blocking him out to avoid being hurt, but you hadn’t thought about his feelings. He was more popular than you were, you had assumed he would be fine, that he wouldn’t care if you were around or not.

“No, you didn’t do anything, I swear -”

“Then what? Because I thought we were friends, close friends and then suddenly you pretty much disappear. But you’re still streaming with other people. It’s pretty shitty of you.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek and looked up, the sting of tears threatening to fall. “It was really shitty of me, I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” he asked. “Please just tell me.”

“I don’t know what I’m meant to say,” you replied softly.

“What do you want to say?”

You blinked, the anticipation of unspoken words caught in your throat, making it hard to swallow. The taste of them was bitter on your tongue. “I...I have feelings for you.”

There. You had said it. There was no taking it back now, and you felt like your heart was about to shatter with every single second of silence that passed. You could hear him swallow on the other end of the phone. “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

You bit your lip, taking in the meaning of the question he had asked. It wasn’t something you had thought of, you hadn’t conceptualised your feelings for him, not put them in a box labelled love or anything. “I don’t know. I feel something for you. And it kinda sucks being your friend and having those feelings. So I pulled away.”

“Why does it suck?”

You laughed bitterly. “Why wouldn’t it? Feeling something for someone that doesn’t feel the same is fucking shitty.”

“I asked you to flirt with me YN -”

“Yeah, for fun,” you interrupted.

“No, I said for fun, but really I just wanted you to,” he replied. “I feel something for you too. How could I not? Has anything I’ve ever said to you sounded like it was just for fun?” You smiled at his response, your heart no longer on the fit of breaking, but suddenly doing flips and soaring through your chest, radiating warmth through your body.

“Oh,” you said, your brain was overloaded with thoughts, and was apparently no longer capable of coherent sentences.

“Oh? That’s a great response, thanks,” he teased, but you could tell he was smiling as he spoke.

“I wasn’t expecting you to say that, I don’t really know what to say honestly,” you replied.

“Well, baby, how about you say yes to a date?” he asked.

“Yes.”

[stylistiquements]

Day 1 : Soap Bubbles.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : You're being introduce to the internet in a peculiar way, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.4k | W: written part underneath

𐐪𐑂 Warning : very few swears

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The coffee that sinks inside your stomach brings out a grimace and a click of your tongue where the taste stains; too bitter, too acidic but you’ll drink it anyway and to the last drop; there is something about the idea of spending time with three best friends that is so made of spring and honey that you wish to miss none of it.

“Someone is lurking,” George contemplates out loud, and the call goes silent for a second as if to look for the intruder. And it would so easy to flinch, to hit the back pedal, because you almost feel like one being exposed front stage like that. But today- today is not that day.

It's not that you don't want to join the discussion, it's that it takes a second to warm up, to absorb the energy and become one with it.

And sometimes, all it takes is Sapnap to exclaim, “Panini head, my beloved!” for your smile synchronizes with his chuckles. Somehow, once noticed by the right person, life flows back naturally.

George and Dream greets you in trailing unison, like two kids forced to greet their unwelcomed aunt on a sunday afternoon.

“H-hey troublemakers,” you finally say. Your voice is still quiet, not reluctant, but rather uncertain. It doesn't bother anyone.

“I’m beating Dream’s ass at chess and he’s bitter,” Sap explains, and you silently nod, as if they were able to see you.

A long silence follows along, rythmed by clicks of mouses and keyboards and it falls in your ears like high droplets. It's comfortable. It's intimate, shared with friends only.

"We haven't heard from you in a while," Dream says. "I mean ... before the clout fiasco."

You wouldn't exactly call it a fiasco, even though you don't really like the idea of being perceived a little too closely from the eyes of twitter.com, but you do agree anyway, "I've been caught up on college essays lately."

"That sucks," George probably adds.

“Good thing you’re here, then,” Dream notes, simple as a breath. “This is a worry-free zone.”

It hovers for a second, carried by George’s approval hum.

You squint suspiciously, detective mode, at the profile pictures that light on and off before your eyes, “Thanks, dream.”

He scoffs a “sure” and you’re not sure why you sense a bit of irony stuck on the back of his teeth. You're so tempted to call him out, but you don't. Instead, you write a mental note of this odd moment.

“It’s because I told him about your three brothers and now he’s scared they’re gonna find him and kick his ass,” Sap explains as if he just read your mind.

Sometimes, there’s this thing in the air, though you’re miles away. Something like a connection. There’s this thing when you don’t need to talk for Sap to understand. Sharing one brain cell, you dismiss ironically. Probably coincidences and predictability, but it always sounds a little special, a little like something you’d wish to be out of this world, like morning dew and fairy circles. And it makes you feel safe, at home, just like snuggling up in the sheets during a stormy night. Your smile washes up the sleeve of your hoodie, covered palm carefully hiding your chuckles.

“Three older brothers,” George muses, and there’s no telling if it’s something meant for you to hear. “That’s kinda scary.”

“You better be scared, one of them is probably your FBI agent,” you tease mindlessly, though there's nothing scary about those three grown men.

“I’m British, Bunny,” he points out. Whether the exasperation in his tone is fake or genuine, that, you can’t tell, but you play it cool, grin carved so deep it almost hurts. Dream’s wheezes rise and fall in the background.

“Say that to his face then,” you outbid smirkingly after a second of silence, heels growing into the carpet to make your chair spin slowly left and right, so breezily.

“I’d praise you for the rest of my life if you-Oooooooh your ass is wacked. Your ass is so wacked, dude. You fucked up so bad,” Sapnap chokes out between strings of giggles.

“Oh no, my streamer is losing his game?” You theatrically pout. “My streamer Dreamwastaken, have you met him? Guess you don’t need any of my brothers to kick your ass.”

“Okay yeah- no- it’s not my fault if your- they’re distracting me, okay?” Dream defends.

Slowly, the energy lowers again and the call remembers peace as Dream admits defeat.

“I’m not playing against you anymore,” he mumbles through greeted teeth, your hoodie shelters a muffled giggle. “Let’s talk about y/n’s twitter fame instead.”

“Let’s just not-” you mutter, both because seeing Dream lose at something is a miracle that has to be witnessed once and because you’re somewhat reluctant. “Let’s just not talk about that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea it would draw this much attention to you,” Sap admits.

“Well, you talk about her all the time it was only a matter of time before twitter finds out,” George taunts and you secretly smile, listening to the way your best friend tries to defend himself, mind flooded with the last memories you have of when you were able to see those chuckles for real.

“Yeah, Quackity already told me you guys talk behind my back,” you fakely muse. “That’s totally fine, I don’t wanna know what you guys are talking about at all.” It’s a lie, obviously, the idea creeps upon your mind with assumptions you can’t quite get a grip of nor let go.

“You and Quackity talk?’ Sapnap asks, hint of surprise, and you hum.

“Or rather, he talks to me. He keeps calling-.” Shit. The forsaken word traps itself into your mouth. It’s too silly anyway.

“Come on, just say it,” Dream pushes as if he knew too much, more than you even do, and your cheeks flush mindlessly. You don’t notice.

“Dream, quit it!” You demand.

“Quit what?”

“You talk as if you knew more than anyone did.”

“Maybe I just do,” he coos, so dream-like.

Oblivious or careless, Sapnap asks, “Is Quackity bothering you or something?”

“He-" you begin but stop to look for the right way to put it, "He triggers my flight or fight response.”

"I mean, duh," Sapnap probably rolls his eyes.

"But I like him. He's funny."

After a second of silence, George says, “Well that was unexpected.”

“Not so much, I think we’re both chaotic neutral people.”

“What is that neutral chaotic thing anyway?” Dream is confused.

Roll up your sleeve girl boss because now is your time to shine! You offer your best dream smp alignment chart to the classroom. They're speechless, but they listen carefully.

"Then you're more chaotic good than neutral. You're too sweet anyway," Sap says.

"I'd even say lawful good," George debates.

"That's because you haven't seen Bunny during her crazy cat hour."

"True," you note.

"She'll go absolutely batshit."

“What?" George burst between confusion and surprise. "We've never seen you like that."

"A lady never reveal her secrets," you retort. No one answer.

It leaves a second for your mind to enjoy peace. For your eyes to lay on c!tubbo on lawful good and think true, then on c!dream on chaotic evil and think also very true. You huff and it's like a wave; as sarcasm leaves your breath, an idea comes in.

"Sap, check your DMs," you request.

Surrounded by the evening lull, Sapnap’s laugh pops like soap bubbles, "God, you’re so stupid. Why can't you just marry me?"

“So, is it Sapnap approved?” You chuckle lightly to prevent Sapnap’s morning fresh laugh to fill your chest and leak everywhere.

“Just press ‘send tweet’ please,” he confirms with leftovers of a smile in his voice.

"George, get me out of here. They're doing it again," Dream whines.

"Doing what?" He asks, unbothered.

"Act like they're alone in the convo. Just get a room." And you don't get to stand up for yourself that you and your best friend are actually sent to another room.

"Well this one is chaotic evil confirmed," you mumble as you roll your eyes but the vibes are much peaceful, much more comfortable in here. "So ... hi."

"Hi," he chuckles in return.

Maybe that's for the best; a moment that needs to stay a little timeless, secretive and special. It hasn't happened in so long, you don't even remember the last time it did.

"I'm glad you're here. I miss you, you know?" He says, and it's hard to not feel so bittersweet about it. It's hard when longing involves a craved touch, a real smile and an eye contact. Your shoulder sinks in the chair a little harder.

"I miss you too. I'll be here soon," you promise. And soon couldn't come any sooner.

But the conversation, soft and free, will wash up any worries, as always, and you'll end up talking about everything and nothing, about streams and planned videos and college and god knows what. As long as it makes the two of you happy and smiling. Just like the old days, you'll both think and it's fair to say until the evening turns into night and night turns into fatigue.

"Are you sure you're okay about that clout?" He asks once again. "I know you don't like being exposed like that."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry too much about it. I'll try to make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," he murmurs, but oh boy did he not know what was about to come until you two meet.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge

A/N : so first of all it has come to my attention that 129 days from now on is actually my birthday so that's a weird coincidence lol. Hi how are you guys?? welcome to the first part I hope you liked it. I'm fairly new to the mcyt community and that's the first time I write for them, so bear with me. Feedbacks are always appreciated. Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Here’s another thought based off this blurb I wrote. 

Reader Insert. 

CW: Smut adjacent. 

_________________

You’re just on the couch, feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table still scrolling through TikTok. Calum’s taken resident up in your lap, head resting on your thighs and his phone is preoccupying him too. That TikTok keeps coming back to your head, the sudden change from the soft voice over to Corpse’s voice. It looks some lurking, and lots of Googling on how to actually make a TikTok, but in the search you come up with a plan. It in some part requires Calum to trust you. 

“Babe?” you start, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I make a TikTok of you?”

He looks up, tearing his gaze from his phone. “What-what you are you thinking about?”

“Using the same sound off the same video I showed you. Just tickles, really,” you say. 

“God, I hate tickles. But sure, I guess.”

You kiss his nose, “Thanks, babe.” 

“Do I need to do anything?”

“Nah, just say comfy,” you encourage, kissing his forehead. 

He nods, turning his head just a little to kiss at your tummy. “I can do that.” As the countdown starts, you drag your fingers over his scalp. The song plays and your fingers move into his armpits and he giggles. His natural reaction is to squeeze his arms to his side. It ultimately keeps your hand trapped but you laugh just a little at his response. 

As the bass drops and Corpse’s voice filters through, you’re able to wriggle your hand free and slide it over his chest. He settles, peering up at you to see if you’re done. In this action, you’re able to slip your hand up to his throat and give it a small squeeze. The surprise isn’t missed as Calum gasps for just a second before a tiny tiny moan escapes him. His eyes flutter for just a moment. You’re positive the audio is done by now but you do lean down to press a kiss to his lips. 

Calum’s not one to usually submit, but it’s there. He does like to be taken care of sometimes and it tends to happen when things get stressful with work or when he’s got a lot on his plate. And it’s not that he can’t take care, it’s not like he can’t take care of things, but sometimes it’s have someone else do it. It’s nice to have someone else please him. 

And truth be told, the action should shock him. He should recoil given that you just tickled him, but there’s a gleam in your eyes when you leaned into him. You looked so proud to see him respond that way, to see him trust you, so he pull himself into a seating position and cups your cheek. “You didn’t tell me that was part of the bit.”

You’re acutely aware to save the draft, but your phone is the last of your worries. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

The distance between you two is short, and grows even shorter as you push up and Calum leans in. His nose brushes over yours. “Considered me surprised.” The pad of his thumb strokes your cheek before he drags his whole palm down and cups your throat in return. 

You push forward to seal his mouth in a kiss, peeling his hand away from your flesh. The kiss is short before you pull away. “I don’t think you get to call the shots right now, baby.” 

Calum can only let out a shaky exhale as you kiss over the side of his neck, “Okay.”

Calum’s head rests on your chest, the blanket draped on the back of the couch thrown over the both of you. His fingers trace over your sides slowly. Your fingers are scratching over his scalp. “Do you remember if we got Oreos last trip to the store?” you ask quietly. Your fingers move down to the muscle of his back, scratching just a little at the flesh.

“We did. But I can’t say any is left,” he laughs, sitting up. “Which might entirely be my fault, but that’s neither here nor there.” He redresses but drapes the blanket back over you, even goes as far as to tuck the ends around you. 

“I am not prisoner to the couch,” you tease.

“You must certainly are.” While Calum checks the kitchen for Oreos, you redress mostly but rewrap yourself in the blanket. 

“Huzzah, a full sleeve is left,” Calum declares from the kitchen and then rushes back into the living room. He plops down behind you, resting the package in your lap. You feed him the first one and the voice from the TV surround the two of you. The two of you enjoy the sleeve and then eventually move into the bedroom to wash up and retire under the sheets. 

The next morning when you check your phone, as you open the Twitter app your notifications are absolutely flooded. You check to see what happened. Normally, there’s a tweet about you here and there, but you turned off notifications just in general to be safe. But you still checked it periodically. As the tweet loads, you pull your brows down into confusion. Didn’t know they got it on like THAT!

When you scroll up in the chain, you spy the TikTok. You could’ve sworn you had only saved the draft not published it. But when you change to the TikTok app, you realize at the top of your profile is the video. “Holy shit.” You climb out of bed and scurry to find Calum. You’re already trying to get your fingers to stop shaking so you can delete the video. But at this point it is too late, you realize. “Babe?” you call out into the house. “Babe?!”

“Outside,” comes his reply and you spin around and hurry down to the open backyard doors. 

“Babe, I’m so sorry,” you rush out. 

Calum takes in the panic in your eyes and how your phone is wobbling in your hand. “Hey, hey, whatever it is, we’ll work through it, okay?” But all you can seem to do is just apologize. He nods, guiding you into his chest and rubs his hand up and down your back. “Ssh, take a deep breathe.”

“I-I thought the video was just a draft,” you say more but it gets slightly muffled as you press your face deeper into his skin. 

Calum can deduce the problem though. “But you published it by accident?” he asks. You nod. “And I can only assume it only took a matter of time before fans found it huh?” You give another nod. 

A sigh leaves his chest and you pull back, “I-I deleted it once I found out and it’s a throwaway account. It’s not even my face as the profile picture you know? I-I thought I was being safe.”

“Shit happens,” Calum returns, using his fingers to wipe away the tears. “It’s out there now. What else can we do?”

“I’m so sorry.” 

He kisses your forehead. “I accept your apology. Let’s get some waffles, want waffles?”

You’re not sure how Calum can be so calm about this. “You’re-you’re not mad. After everything?”

“You posting something by accident isn’t the same, okay? Besides, that video is the most harmless thing that’s come out. You know, none of us are saints, nor do we pretend to be saints.” He shrugs. “Besides, what a way to confirm a relationship, you know?”

The two of you had been dating for a while, two years and some change. You had popped up occasionally in an Instagram posts and you two got spotted here and there hanging out. But you were pretty good at keeping your face hidden or turned away from paps when you could spot them. One picture of your face had surfaced, really early on. But not much since then. 

Of course, the fans still speculated after all these years that you two were still together but neither you or Calum had done anything to confirm it. It didn’t bother you, you kinda liked the secrecy. It was easier to ignore the occasional tweet about your relationship but most fans had a feeling nothing would ever really be said. 

Until now. 

And sure, Calum is right on some front. You can’t really do anything about it now. The video is out and no doubt making its rounds. “I’m just going to delete the account, but yes to waffles.”

“If you want to, then I won’t stop you. But really I’m not mad.” 

You take a moment to look at him, study his gaze. It’s steady, he looks more concerned than anything else. “Sorry,” you say one last time. It’s clear that there’s not much else that he can say that will ease your fear. 

He presses another kiss to forehead, rubbing his hands over your arms. “Let’s go get dressed and eat waffles.”

You nod and it finally dawns on you that Calum had been out with Duke and you spy him laying your and Calum’s feet, completely content to stretch out the rest of the day. You kiss Calum’s cheek and then pick up Duke to nuzzle your nose into his fur. “Oh, buddy, bath time soon for you,” you laugh, but Duke just nuzzles into you. 

You settle onto the edge of the bed and Duke rests on your lap. You delete the TikTok account. There’s thousand of tweets it seems, so many comments and you can only imagine that Instagram is going to look the same so you take point not to look at it and to stop looking at Twitter as well. It’s not going to do anything good for you at this point. 

As you pull clothes from the dressers and closet, Calum returns to the bedroom. He walks pass you but takes a moment to squeeze your elbow three times. You turn to watch him disappear into the attached bathroom but smile just a little. Three squeezes, always a way to say I love you without necessarily saying it. You two use it most often when you and Calum go out into public, or at parties. Two squeezes means let’s go/there’s a problem. But three, and no more than three is your secret way to say I’m always there with you and for you. 

The car ride is quiet, but you hold Calum’s hand like always. It’s easy enough to slip into the breakfast diner. You pick at the corner of the napkin the utensils are wrapped in. The waiter is quick to get your orders. But you’ve stayed silent still. “Look, if waffles don’t fix this, I will go to extreme measures,” he teases after trying to gain your attention. 

You roll your eyes, but smile. “God, let’s not do that either.”

He laughs and takes your hand. “I mean, I would always go to the extreme measures for you.”

“Thanks.” The waitress comes back around to refill your water glasses and assure you your food will be coming out soon. “Wanna go to Lowe’s after this? Still gotta find materials for those shelves in your music room.”

He nods. “Yeah we can check them out. But if you stop me from buying my string of pearls, I will riot.”

“I want one just as much as you do, but we need a place for it first.”

“Nonsense. No plan. Just buy.”

Your food is brought out a couple of minutes later and the waffles do make you feel a little bit better, but right in the back of your head is the morbid curiosity to check what is happening on social media. You struggle against it continue to eat on. The sun’s a little brighter as you and Calum leave the diner. You keep your head down and walk a little behind him, but he reaches back, wiggling his fingers for you. 

“You sure?” you whisper. 

“What are paps going to get now that’s news?” There’s a devilish grin on his face and you give in, catching up and taking his hand. You’re pretty sure you can spot a pap or two but you don’t think too much about it as you stride side by side with Calum. 

In the Lowe’s you keep close to Calum, finding the right size planks that would be needed. He drags you over to the plants and allow yourself to be dragged over.  “You’re the one that got me hooked on this. This is your fault,” he teases. And you’ll admit it is kinda your fault. You wanted to bring in a few house plants, which Calum admitted to avoiding because he wasn’t home a lot. Though you weren’t sure how that logical applied to a dog, but never the less, your interest in house plants has rubbed off on Calum. 

You steer the pallet around with the planks you’re going to use for the shelves, long with the brackets and screws. You might’ve taken over a corner if the garage with some power tools and a small saw for some home projects you’ve wanted to take on. And so now, you tend to take up to some handy projects around the house and Calum’s always there to help hold whatever you need him to hold. 

“There are already three plants on this things, let’s slow down,” you tease. 

“Never,” he replies, placing another one down. “Kitchen window?” 

You nod. “Sounds good to me.”

When you two get home, you unload the planks into the garage and Calum finds his gardening gloves to move the plants into some pots. You watch him settled onto the steps that lead up from the garage into the house, gently pat some extra soil around the plant. “Want some help repotting?”

“It’s only two more,” he returns but does look up pushing his lips out for a kiss. You laugh and kiss him but check the soil on two he’s finished potting to see if they need water. “Can you add a little water to that first one for me?”

“Of course.” It’s not long before you add a little water to the plant and you settle in front of him, snapping a photo of the concentration on his face. It’s slightly obstructed by the baseball cap, but you angle it well enough.

“Cutie,” you whisper and pinch his cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he laughs. The last plant potted, he turns his attention back to you. “How’s it going? You okay now?”

You shrug. “Better, I guess. Still feel bad.”

“That’s valid. It’s okay if you still feel bad. But all in all, we’re okay. If you’re worried.” You nod, fingers rubbing over leaves gently. “Check my Instagram.” That’s all he says before turning around and head inside with one of the plants. 

You stay seated and pull up the platform. When you find Calum’s profile, you a new post. It’s a series, indicated by the white square icon in the top right corner. The first one is hardly a photo of you from years ago but the other two in it are more recent, the last actually a video of you struggling to get some of the planks from the display in Lowe’s. Calum’s voice floats through your speaker and the camera bounces a little as he moves in to help. “Let me help. You’re going to kill yourself trying to do all that by yourself,” he laughs. 

“In my will, I will leave you everything then,” you counter and hoist the plank up. 

The video is still rolling and captures you grinning as you pointing just off screen, “To plants for my good sir?”

He giggles. “To plants!” and the video ends. 

Here’s a very short collection of two years and 3 and a half months, reads the caption and that’s all. 

“Calum,” you call out, grabbing the string of pearls and head inside. He shuffles to a stop having been coming around the corner. “I love you. Your post is sweet. Now where do we locate the newest plant baby?”

“Kitchen window. Other will are going in the office.” You go to step past him but he squeezes your elbow-- three times. 

[autumnscribbles]

believe me | b.s

requested by anon

summary: y/n starts getting strange DMs and seeing tweets that may ruin her relationship

pairing: brad simpson x reader

warnings: mentions of cheating, angst, sadness hehe

word count: 1.5k (finally a long one woo)

a/n: woohoo first brad imagine!! i love that most of my requests are for brad because UM i love him so much it’s not even funny anyway hope you enjoy this nice angsty fic

                                                           -

Your phone chimed continuously, annoying you because you thought you had remembered to put it on silent the night before like you usually did. You assumed it was fans talking about the new photo you posted with Brad the night before, but you were surprised when you opened your phone after rubbing the sleep out of yours eyes.

You looked at the username - @/bradsgirl2020

Most of the time, the DMs you received were from fans you knew, or at least recognized from lurking on twitter often enough out of boredom. You opened the DM anyway, assuming it was a fan, so you were curious.

To your surprise, it was not that at all. Whoever it was began telling you she had slept with Brad, seen him at many parties in LA the past few months and they have been seeing each other secretly. She continued to tell you she thought Brad was too good for you, you were ugly, deserved nothing.

You were used to occasional hate, and used to people trying to say stupid stuff to “sabotage” your relationship. You couldn’t help but let out a slight laugh, putting your phone down while you went to make breakfast. Brad was out doing a radio show, so you sat alone at the table while you ate your cereal, too lazy to put any more effort in than pouring milk in a bowl.

When you went back upstairs, your phone was blowing up again, making you roll your eyes.

This mystery “fan” was now spreading rumours on Twitter, all the fans freaking out, wondering if it could be true. Most of them defended your relationship, others were actually falling for it. I guess whoever it was made a convincing argument. You read through the hateful tweets about you, and the photos of Brad she posted, captioning it with obsessive words, making you cringe slightly.

“So weird,” you whispered to yourself.

She had no photos of herself, which meant you were unable to see if you could recognize her from any of the parties you had also attended with Brad. This is how she claimed their “relationship started”.

“He’s gonna leave her for me” the tweet read, making your eyebrows furrow. Why would someone be spreading this, so eager to get a reaction.

You heard the door open, Brad entering your house, kicking his shoes off and hanging his coat beside him.

“Hey baby,” he smiled at you, pecking your lips before going to grab a glass of water.

“Hey, so, something really weird’s been happening today,” you mentioned, not knowing how to bring it up.

“Yeah? What is it?” he asked curiously, his eyes widening as he took a sip from the glass.

“So there’s this...fan I guess? A twitter account who’s DMing me and tweeting about how she’s had sex with you at parties and that you’re in love with her,” you told him.

“That’s ridiculous,” he laughed. “People try really hard, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “She keeps sending me hate though, not that it matters I guess, it just sucks to be told I’m no good for you.”

“Block her, babe, it’s not worth it,” he told you sweetly, pressing his lips to your temple. “If anything, you’re too good for me.”

~ 

You were sitting on the couch, waiting for Brad to come home with the takeaway he had promised you. You remembered what he had said and decided to go to block the account and all the ones that were backing her up.

As you pulled the account up, you saw new DMs and tweets that made you recoil in your seat.

In front of you were photos of Brad at parties like she said, a girl on his lap, kissing his beck. Another of his hands on someone’s butt, seemingly pulling them closer. They kept coming, picture after picture of compromising photos of Brad and whoever this girl was.

I told you he finds me hotter than you.

You didn’t know what to believe anymore. On the one hand, you wanted to believe Brad could never do this to you, no matter how drunk, no matter what party, what girl. The other half of you, though, stared at these pictures, taking them in, making you wonder if maybe Brad was capable of doing this, of hurting you.

Tears sprang to your eyes, your throat burning as you tried to hold them back. You scrolled through Twitter, seeing everyone talking about the photos, which had been posted. Magazine websites were already talking about it, the word “Cheating” in the title making you feel sick to your stomach.

The door opened, Brad walking in with a smile on his face, Chinese food in his hands. You turned to him, tears down your face, making his smile drop immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

He put the food down, approaching you quickly. When you pulled back when he tried to cup your cheek in his hand, his face dropped.

“Did I do something?” he questioned, hurt filling his voice and on his face.

“Are these real?” you asked, showing the photos to him, his eyes widening instantly.

“What? No, of course not,” he defended. “These are fake, y/n.”

Silence filled the room, your eyes gazing at the floor, unable to meet Brad’s eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked. “You believe them?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” you muttered, a tear falling onto the couch from your eye, leaving a darkened spot in its wake.

“Babe, please,” he said. “I would never do this to you, you’re everything to me.”

“Then where are these pictures from?” you asked.

“They have to be fake, y/n, I didn’t do it, I swear,” he pleaded, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

Brad didn’t cry often, and you wanted to believe him, but the pictures clouded your thoughts, unable to get the image away. Tears streamed down his face, his head shaking in disbelief.

“Please. baby,” he whispered. “You know I would never do this.”

“I think you should stay with one of the boys tonight,” you said, barely audible. “I need time to think.”

“No,” he pleaded. “Please, let’s just forget this, eat our food, watch a movie.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you told him. “I need time alone, to think it through.”

Brad’s tears increasingly fell down his cheeks, but he listened to you. He always wanted to do what was best for you, and this was it. He stood up, making his way back to the front door, leaving the Chinese food on the table.

“I love you, y/n, remember that,” he told you. “Please believe me.”

With that he was gone, the door clicking gently in his wake, your tears turning into full blown sobs as you put your head in yours hands. It had to be fake, how could this be happening? You tried eating something, feeling a gape in your chest without Brad beside you struggling to use chopsticks. You set it down, going upstairs, and crying yourself to sleep.

~

You woke up to a text from Tristan, a link to a tweet attached to the message. You assumed it was about the Brad situation, it only made sense that Brad would have confided in Tris.

You looked at the tweet, a fan account had posted a photo that looked almost identical to the one the hate account had sent you. This time, however, it wasn’t Brad touching and kissing the girl, it was someone else. Someone with similar features, curly hair, but it definitely wasn’t Brad.

The photos posted were edited to make it look like Brad!! It wasn’t him!!

You let out a sharp breath, relief washing over you, tears running down your face.

Tell him to come home, you texted Tristan before hopping out of bed and rushing downstairs to wait for him.

You kept looking at the picture, as if it would change if you looked away. It wasn’t Brad, he was right, it was fake the whole time. You felt stupid, knowing deep down that he wouldn’t cheat on you with a random girl at a party.

There was a knock on the door, Brad too nervous to use his key, in case you were still angry. 

You rushed to the door, throwing it open and wrapping him in your arms, tears stinging your eyes again.

“I’m so sorry,” you said into his chest, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “I was stupid, I know I should have believed you over some stupid obsessive twitter account.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled sweetly. “I don’t blame you, they looked pretty real.”

“I should have believed you,” you muttered, guilt flooding your conscience.

“Don’t feel bad,” he reassured you. “We’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

He put his hands on either side of your face, leaning in and pressing his lips to you. The familiar warmth and feeling made goosebumps appear on your arms, wishing you could stay like this forever.

“Now,” he said. “Did you keep any of that Chinese food?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. That was the thing about Brad, no matter what happened, any disagreement, fight, breakdown, he always knew how to make you smile despite all of it.

[anewbeginningagain]

Thank you for what you said about being disappointed in the fandom and not in VM. I came to follow you through the VM fandom and I do remember you clearly drawing a line when the shipper/anti discussion got to be overwhelming. I respect that so much. I loved them as performers and as a team, and I have always believed them when they clearly said they were not a couple. I also believe they have now each forged paths that fit them and that were 100% what I would have expected given what they expressed interest in over the years.

How did you know when to step back? While I wasn’t a shipper, I mistakenly thought that the shipper discourse was all in good fun and hung around far too long. During that time, and especially around the WOF events, it felt like nearly every VM blog (even the normally neutral ones) had drunk the shipper Kool Aid and was taking sides between VM. I really can’t look at any of those blogs with any respect, to say nothing of the truly vile people who continue to propagate lies about VM to this day. So I’m now also very bitter at the fandom, because it put a darkness over the last year we got to see VM be a skating team, and we won’t get that time back.

I don't think I knew when to step back, I stepped back too late tbh. For a long time I tried to fight what was done to them because it was just such injustice in my eyes and in my character I find it hard not to fight for what I believe even when it costs me. I'm putting this under a keep reading since it turned out long.

I think my experience was different for many reasons, I wasn't on tumblr before TS, I didn't know what a fandom is and was never part of one, didn't even know what shipping was. So coming here in 2014 and lurking until I joined fully was a strange experience. And that's partly why I was a part of it but also always an outsider, I didn't have group chats or was a part of some clique. At times I chatted with other blogs but it was mostly impersonal. That's also why I was a very low-key shipper in some ways but I was also much more realistic in terms of what it actually means and what I expect from them (nothing at all btw, shipping them was always on me, not on them, it was my decision and they owed me nothing).

The thing with the TS fandom is that it was toxic from the start and I was completely aware of it. One of my first ever posts was me publicly calling out another blogger for being a bully, it wasn't even done to start a fight or anything, I just didn't know what the decorum was around here... But it was well deserved and only escalated from there. The fandom basically turned people into monsters in my eyes - people were bullies, harassing others, belittling them. Every time a blogger would come out and share a personal experience like TS helping them deal with personal heartbreak - those "monsters" would drag them both anonymously and publicly. And while it drove me crazy to watch it, what made it worse is that most people were reluctant to stand up against it. And this was when the fandom was way smaller than it became in 2018.

During 2016-2018 before they went viral the fandom still had many low points, they'd start a rumor about every person TS were seen talking to, every photoshoot Tessa did made people question her motivation and commitment to skating and made them angry at Scott for not trying enough, every skating related decision was questioned and they were announced as DOOMED about once a week. It was a time where the fandom will have a meltdown about once a month over the dumbest things ever. And yet at that time, it was still worth being around. The good outweighs the bad.

But it stopped being the case in 2018. I was so happy they went viral but the new batch of fans made things a lot worse. They came in knowing nothing and completely fell for the "monsters" that were always around, they needed the entertainment and they didn't care about the consequences of their actions. Some of them came from other fandoms and didn't realize that what you can do when shipping two movie stars, can't be done when it's two Canadian athletes who are much more accessible and way less prepared to deal with the insanity. It became a circus and TS were the opening act, there to either behave as the masses pleases or fall apart in front of them for entertainment purposes. Everything was fair game to those people, their private lives, their reputation, their families, their integrity, it was all a big game.

So even when it was fun I knew it won't last. There were too many people around that I knew in my heart were horrible people, I think about a month after the Olympics I started blocking accounts who were determined to make stuff up or those trying to "educate" new fans by telling them complete fabrications while still abusing the old bloggers that were around. But I was also getting to know new blogs and while some are still around and are totally great, most were either awful from the start or die-hard shippers who were bound to turn on TS once it will get out that they aren't a couple. And then all the rumors about TS being stalked started going around and things became way too much for me.

And I think I knew that it will be a shit show around here when it will come out that they are not a couple, but even I couldn't have imagined the level people were stoop to. The complete insanity that went down reached the media, other skaters were asked to comment about nasty rumors about them, they and their loved ones were cyberbullied.

I think the time I knew I have to make a complete purge to my timeline both here and on twitter was when someone tagged Scott's girlfriend's old husband in a tweet asking him to get her away by taking her back while attaching legal documents from their divorce papers. That was so demented that I knew I don't want to even be associated with those kinds of people. And there are tons of other horrible things that were done, it's just too infuriating to name more of them.

But the one consistent thing in this fandom was that a big part of it will always try to ruin the happy moments: Their first ACI - some tried to make up some guy Tessa is supposedly dating and was there, first SCI - they couldn't even beat C/B in the FD, a small error at 4CC SD - they are falling apart, a stumble at worlds - they won't be allowed to win the Olympics, they choose MR - it's a warhorse and the judges will laugh at them, the entire 2017/18 - they are doomed, touring Japan - they are a couple but are fighting just look at their body language, thank you Ilderton - can't even look at each other. I can legit keep this going for days.

About 95% of TS fandom is the absolute worse, always have been and always will be, and when anyone come across those "nice" fans who interact with Tessa on Instagram or are part of fs twitter - keep in mind most of those people behaved like horrible human beings, not only to TS but to other fans as well. So yeah, I'm bitter LOL.

[kissesinthekitchen]

Mine

Prompt: In which a jealous and protective Harry gets into a fight defending your honor, and you decide to repay him. 

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Smutty fluff. Word count: 3,446. Rated mature.

A/N: I’ve been lurking the Harry fic tag for a while now, and have become so inspired by many of the writers and stories I have encountered on here. This is my first ever Harry fanfic. Please be gentle. Likes/reblogs and any love would be appreciated! Enjoy. x

“That wasn’t quite treating people with kindness, was it?” 

You stare down at your boyfriend who is sitting on the hotel sofa, grinning up at you through his lashes and a gruesome bloody lip. 

“Fuckin’ tosser shouldn’t have been grabbing at you though. That’s right, innit?”

You press the towel of ice over his eyelid, which is already turning an angry purple and puffing up. 

It’s a fucking messy picture. Harry can only stare at you with one eye. His cheek looks equally upset, scratched and bruised. When he winces, his lip cracks again oozing blood and saliva from the pressure of mouth and teeth and dribbling onto his floral shirt. His hands are still shaking, swollen too -

This is not how you wanted to spend your last night in London before going home to see his family for the holidays. 

It was only supposed to be one night out. Dinner and then some drinks at a fancy club that Gemma had suggested months ago. You’d gone to the bar to grab some shots ---- when a red faced, tan man with greasy blonde hair had appeared at your side as you waited for the bartender to prepare your drinks. 

He’d been leaning against the bar. He used one arm to stroke your hair, his fingers dipping into your hair to brush back some strands behind your ear. The same hand then moved to train down the exposed skin of your arms. “Mmm,” he said. “Don’t you look like a present? My name’s Michael. What’s your name, love?”

“Oh-” you stuttered, trying to shrug out of his grasp. “Hi. Sorry I’m with-”

“With me, right? You’re a fucking stunner. Meant to be - that’s what we are.”

“Sorry. No. Thank you-” he was so close you had to turn in his embrace to be able to face the bartender again. You took the two glasses in each hand and tried to shift away but he wrapped the other arm around your waist, squeezing you. You were frozen. 

Your eyes tried to scan the crowd for Harry’s face, the music making you feel something akin to drowning as this Michael’s hands deepened their hold on your  skin. You froze as you felt them move to your ass. 

“I’m here with my boyfriend. Sorry.” you tried to recoil and raise the glasses up, so it would block him from trying to smash his face against yours. But it didn’t work, he took your protest as something enticing. It provoked him to move closer -- you could vomit. 

“Your what?” he tried to play along. “Where’s he? Wouldn’t let you outta my sight if you were mine.”

Then you heard a low, deep voice boom from behind you. 

“She’s here with her fucking boyfriend.”

“Harry-” you could hear the shrillness in your voice, your throat threatening to close around the anxiety and panic that had begun to pull you under. Your heart felt like it might soar with relief. He grabbed you to him so quickly, it felt like whiplash, the drinks jostling, tequila spilling on his expensive blazer. “Harry, I’m sorry-”

But he didn’t seem to hear you as he shoved you behind him. 

And Michael? The man was laughing. You watched him over Harry’s shoulder, your cheek pressed against his back. 

“You’re a fucking bitch!” he spit, before his eyes landed on Harry. “God. Don’t I know you from the telly?” He chuckled. His mouth widening when recognition dawned on him. “Oh shit! Fucking popstar!” His eyes fell on some of the people who were now turning around in the commotion-

“Harry,” you tried to tug on your boyfriend’s arm. “Let’s go.” 

But it felt like you weren’t there. His eyes were still focused on the drunk man in front of him. 

“You were saying something?” he said. His jaw ticked. The vein in his neck was pulsing. “Come on with it, then? Fuckin’ tosser.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, as if hearing him for the first time. He stepped closer to Harry. 

“Harry, come on-” you begged.

“You had something to fucking say-” Harry didn’t flinch, even as your grip on his tightened. Your nails digging into his skin-

“I. Said.” He blew air in Harry’s face. “You should keep an eye on your fucking slag.” 

Harry laughed. He did this when he got angry. Got sarcastic. There are times where you’ve argued and the sound was so cold, it felt like it could turn you to stone. It’s a memory you don’t think about often - the moments are so few and far between- but now-

In a blur, you saw Harry raise his fist and punch Michael right in the face. He threw the force of his body in it, the heavy rings on his fingers connecting with his nose at such an ugly, and gruesome angle. You could tell Harry’s reaction had caught him by surprise, he crumpled to the floor in one movement, hands grasping at his face, red dripping onto his fingers. He sounded like he was choking. 

“Harry!” you screamed. 

The crowd around you fell into a thunderous commotion, a crescendo of shouting combined with the music and flashes. The wave of people tightening to get better shots. 

“Fucking asshole!” Harry shouted. “Disgusting. Bastard. Fucking idiot!”

You tried to wrap both arms around his waist, tried to grab him away from the scene unfolding in front of you but it was too late. You could feel the way his skin seemed to vibrate under your touch. Michael grabbed for him and tried to punch him back but he missed his jaw, instead splitting his mouth in two. He tried to swing again on his crooked feet and hit Harry in the cheek. Harry made a show of spitting blood onto the tiled floor, his eyes narrowing as his fist connected with Michael’s face again and again. 

“Fucking asshole! Fucking asshole!” You saw spots of blonde hair, the commotion seemed to pulse around you. 

“Harry! Fuck, Harry stop!” 

You grabbed at Harry to pull him off Michael right as the guards of the club broke up the fight. 

“The fuck is going on here?” one giant, burly man said. His arms extended out to separate both men. 

Harry spit out more blood. “That’s my fucking girlfriend!” he glanced back to stare into your panicked eyes. “Fucking bastard grabbed at her. Wouldn’t let her go. Could we not have gotten some fucking help? Bullshit. This the kind of guys you want in your place?” Harry narrowed his eyes. 

“That true?” the guard turned to where Michael still lay in a heap on the floor. “You try to make a grab at her?” 

“I was-I” he tried to stutter around an alibi. 

Then the focus was on you. “He made you feel unsafe, ma’am?”

You could sink under the attention. You felt so small. Harry seemed to sense this, his bloodied hands moved to grasp you and just that - his hands on your forearms, holding in you place- was enough. You tried to find your voice. 

“Was just getting our drinks. He grabbed me, I couldn’t move-his hands were on my-”

The guard’s face fell, full of understanding. “Alright-” he grabbed Michael’s arms and pulled them back. “You’re out of here, mate. S’what you get for being an asshole.”

Harry’s head followed them. He was still breathing hard. 

Michael started to yell as he was carried away, “Oi! Fucking popstar, I hope you got some fucking lawyers ready. Won’t fucking get away with this!” 

“Harry,” you grabbed at him. “Harry-let’s go-”

But his eyes were still so far away. 

“Fucking bitch,” Michael spat blood in your direction.

“Harry,” you narrowed your voice, your arms locked around his waist. He stared down at you, as if finally realizing what happened, as if he was looking at you for the first time in a while.  His arm was tight around your neck. “Let’s go. Please.” 

Deepening his stare, he squeezed you tight with a quick peck to your head and finally -finally - let you steer him towards the exit. 

---

“Your mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Mum’s not gonna kill you.”

“She won’t get any photos of you at Christmas now that your face has been smashed in.”

At that, Harry seems to agree, you know by the silence you fall into as you continue working. The club owner was gracious enough to let you two through a private back entrance so you could try to avoid anymore prying eyes from the cameras on the videos you’re sure people recorded on their cellphones, as well as the photographers that had gathered outside in the commotion as a result of a bunch of tweets and texts going out. 

You’d been silent on the ride home too, holding Harry’s clasped hands in your lap. Insisting on asking the Uber driver to stop at a pharmacy so you could grab a first aid kit to patch your boyfriend back together again. 

You asked the driver to go around the back of the hotel to avoid some photographers that had already gathered outside. And once there, you carried Harry up to the hotel room with his arm staying slung over your shoulder, keeping you tight to his side even when you had to take the bucket from the fridge down to fill it with ice cubes for his face. 

And now, sitting on your knees in front of Harry, you still don’t know whether to be upset with him. 

Sure, you’d been scared - horribly frightened even- when you heard the crack of that douchebag’s bone under his fist. But there’s a larger, almost unbeknownst part of yourself that you don’t want to acknowledge - the relief that had rushed over you when Harry had appeared by your side, his big hands moving you behind him. The way your heart thrummed, the chill down your spine at the angry, dangerous look in Harry’s eyes. To see him look so out of control with his anger. So unhinged. God, it might have even made you a little wet. 

But you won’t tell Harry that, not yet at least. Not when he’s still hurt and simultaneously being a smug little shit as you treat his wounds. You let the silence draw out like the space between you. You try to ignore the way you can feel his eyes on you, you think it’s just him trying to make sure you’re okay, maybe waiting for you into go into hysterics - but no, he’s always like this. Some part of him always itching to be a part of you. As if to demonstrate it, he keeps one long arm reaching towards you, his large hand resting draped over your lap as you lean in to inspect his face. 

“Ice is melting. Let me change it,” you say, gingerly unfolding the hand on his eye. You scoop more ice out from the bucket and into another towel. “Press it down.” You remind him, as he holds it to his eye with the hand not on your leg. You unwrap a pack of bandages, alcohol, ointment and go to work. 

“‘It’s gonna make the paper tomorrow, babe.” He winces as you swipe the alcohol across his cheek, but you don’t know whether it’s because of the cut or the truth you’ve just reminded him is dawning. “Might even be online already. Probably trending.” 

“Shit-” he mutters. 

A long minute passes before he speaks again. 

“S’gonna be alright.” he whispers. “We’ll be alright.” 

“Mmmhmm,” you say back, your attention focused on cleaning the rest of the drying blood on his cheek. His usually flawless pale skin flushes in your grasp. 

“M’sorry about work.” he says, softly as if he’s embarrassed. You only nod in silence as you smooth another band-aid across his cheekbone, your fingers pressing against the sharpness of it - too distracted to really consider the gossip that will follow you back to the elementary school you work at. The nosey coworkers. Idly, you think -hope, pray- that the holiday will create enough distance. You don’t think the school would like another barrage of paparazzi trying to loom around the campus. You remember the scowl that had gripped Harry’s face when you told him that someone had tried to follow you home-

“It’s okay,” you tell him, your fingers grasping his face so he knows you’re serious. “You were only defending my honor.”

At that, he blinks, the smoothness of his lips trembling from a straight line into a curve. He beams up at you. “I was…?”

You straighten your back to dump the bloodied wash cloth and bandages into the bin next to you. “I should repay you for that, shouldn’t I?”

In the corner of your eye you see Harry perk up, the air shifting as he realizes you’re no longer angry or upset with him. At least, not anymore. 

He closes his eyes as you run your hands through the curls on his head, scratching your nails at the nape of his neck where he likes it best. You move onto your knees to slide into his lap and straddle his thighs. 

“God. I love your face. Hate to see it like this.” you admit to him, nuzzling close to where the buttons of his shirt are open, your lips pressing kisses to his throat and collarbones. “Wish I could kiss you.”

“Got other parts of me you can kiss, pet.” 

You smirk at him, pulling back to smooth your hair over one shoulder. “Is that right?”

“Can’t you feel me?” He chuckles. “Want you so bad, honey.” 

He hisses as you move to unbuckle the belt of his pants, your warm fingers digging into the waistband of his underwear to take him into your hand. He licks his lips and whines as you grasp him, pulling tight at the tip where he’s already throbbing and leaking and pushing down. 

He whines. “Mmm, so hard, love.” 

“Yeah? Getting into fights make you hard, Harry? Saw red when you saw someone touching what was yours?”

“Shit-” he says. It’s a grunt through his clenched teeth. The gravely sound of it makes you clench at the sound. “Yeah-yeah. You’re mine. Fuck. I don’t know what came over me.” He laughs, low in his throat. “I think I could’a fuckin’ killed him-”

“Should do something for you then, huh?” You giggle, a mischievous smile stretching over your lips. “How do you want me, H?”

“On your knees,” he says. “Want your mouth. Take me into your mouth, love.”

His eyes seem to find clarity for a moment, the deepness of his voice guiding you back onto the floor. 

Usually you pepper kisses down his abdomen, kiss every one of his tattoos but there is no time for that tonight. It’s not what he deserves. Quickly, you make work of his clothes, pulling his trousers and underwear down enough to pull his cock out. You move onto your knees to hover over him, hot breath and lips kissing up the length of him-

Your cheeks feel hot as you let his voice guide you, even though you’ve done this so many times. 

“None of that right now please. Put me in love.” Harry moans as you open your mouth wide, your eyes locked with his green gaze, never breaking contact as you let him use you to get off. One hand grasping the base of himself so he can feed you his cock. Your lips work over the thickness of him, something you’ll never ever get used to. Your mouth and chin becoming slick with your spit and his precum as you work your mouth on him. He feels heavy against your tongue. “God, you suck it so well. Take me so well, love. Fuck. Your mouth’s so soft-” 

“Why’re you so good to me?” he babbles on. Your ears feels like they’re prickling under the warmth of his praise. You would be smiling at him if your mouth wasn’t so stuffed with his cock. “God. Why’re you so good to me? Suckin’ me so well. And probably gonna let me eat your cunt later, huh? Have got such a pretty pussy too. My baby-”

You try to press your thighs together but it’s not enough. It’s as if every one of Harry’s grunts and moans is able to egg your hands on. It’s hard but you untangle your fingers from his to slip it under your dress and push your panties aside to press them against where you are aching and disappointingly empty. Your lips are firm as you moan around Harry’s length. 

You watch his neck roll back against the couch, the line of his jaw tipping up towards the ceiling as he swallows hard. His Adam’s Apple is bobbing. “God, does sucking my cock make you wet, love? You’re so sweet. Do you like it when I come for you? It makes you so wet-God. Fuck. I can hear it. I can hear how wet you are for me.”

One of his hands stays clasped over your forearm, which is resting against the tiger tattoo on his thigh and gripping the base of him where your mouth can’t stretch. The other is tangled in your hair, combing it back and cupping your cheek so he can stare into your face as you suck him off. 

“Fuck,” he says, as if disbelief is caught in his throat. “Let me see that pretty face stretched over my cock. You’re so beautiful, baby.” At that, you hollow your cheeks and hum back in appreciation. 

You can tell Harry’s close when he gets more desperate. His grunts and moans get closer together, his fingers more frantic to find purchase on something. 

“Don’t,” he grunts, even as his fingers have moved to grip the back of your head to keep you in place so he can fuck into your mouth. His hips are stuttering off the edge of the couch as he gasps, “You’ll make me come. Y/N. You’ll make me come. Oh god-”

His voice breaks, cracking around the sound of your name as he spills deep into your mouth. 

“Y/N. Y/N. Fuck me- Y/N,” he says.

You take him in deep, swallowing down the taste of him as he trembles and whimpers your name again and again. Not one drop left spared, because just like he is always so desperate to be a part of you, you’re so very desperate for every inch of him. 

You moan your appreciation back and hold him there until he starts to soften. The muscles in your jaw and throat ache but you’re happy. His fingers stroke the back of your head when you know he’s become too sensitive, and you let him slip from your mouth. You lick around the length of his cock, his balls, pressing lips to his stomach and cleaning him up. Resting your head against his torso and rubbing your fingers and lips against the leaves on his belly as you listen to him calm down. 

“Fuck. C’mere love-” You tuck him back into his pants and pull yourself up the length of him to press your mouth to his. His fingers grasp your face tenderly and clench in your hair, his moans deepening as he tastes himself on your tongue. “Thank you. God, I love you so much. I needed that. Needed you.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, as you settle back into the nest of his lap. “Don’t want you starting a fuss over me. Or hurting this beautiful face. My favorite face. But still, thank you.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you, kissing the top of his head and the roots of his hair. 

“For what?” he muses, with a mischievous grin. He slides his other hand around your waist and presses his face into your throat and nuzzling the top of your breasts, cuddling closer. 

“For defending my honor,” You cradle his blistered hand up to your face and kiss the rings on his knuckles as you begin listing things off. “For not letting that asshole get away. For showing everyone not to mess with what’s yours.”

“Did what I had to do, didn’t I?” he says, looking up at you. Your heart clenches at the conviction in his voice. The crease in his eye somehow still making him more adorable, even all puffed up. The dimple in his cheek deepening. 

“You’re my woman,” he says in a voice that sounds like nothing else in his life could be more true. 

You kiss the side of his mouth, his cheek tenderly as he whispers into your hair-

“And I’m your man.” 

____

A/N: Hope you liked this! Fine Line has inspired me to try to write a story for each track on the album. This was what I came up with for Treat People with Kindness, as the joke y/n makes in the beginning popped in my head! More stories to come hopefully. 

[bowieandqueen11]

Touch Starved / Barry Berkman Imagine

Request: hey love!! could you maybe write something about barry being touch-starved and the reader picking up on it and giving him tons of physical affection? hugs, playing with his hair, etc? maybe during a good cuddle session, reader finds out he’s ticklish and he’s never been tickled before so reader decides that’s another form of mandatory affection he’s gotta experience?? i love your fics, tysm in advance if you decide to write this xoxoxo

Thank you so much love, I am in need of as much Bill Hader fluff at the moment as possible

All comments and requests are much appreciated!

It was just that sort of place in L.A. The sort of small, tucked away unaware place where nobody really pays any heeds to the daily going-ons, seeing them as a usual cycle of muted nothingness in the blur of the big city. But there’s a certain darkness that lurks in the hearts of the residents, a kind of chill that makes the adults tug their children a little bit closer to their chests as they walk home from yet another uneventful day of school, a kind of paranoia that some things have not yet come to pass. That some things had been done, that nobody could erase.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to think about that just yet. What was to come. What has already happened. Instead, you brush your feet against the light carpet of Barry’s bedroom, leaning back against his desk chair and pretending you don’t hear the slight shouts of the theatre group guys he’s sharing with from next door. Your head thumps against his cream walls as a sigh tumbles out your lips, your pyjama shorts rising up your thighs as you watch Barry asleep on the bed, his head face down and squished unflattering into the pillow, his gangly limb spread starfish against the whole mattress. You nearly knock his pill bottle off his desk as you sit up, glancing over at him. His back trembles as he breathes, his hair fanned out over his thin pillow as you walk over to him with a small smile gracing your lips at the set of your boyfriend, happy to see that he hadn’t woken up as you pull his lumpy blue mattress up to his shoulders, your fingers resting for a moment, splaying against the expanse of his back as he whines in his sleep. He had been exhausted last night when you had been watching the movie, his legs entangled with yours, still blushing and shy and all pink cheeks and sparkling eyes as he glanced down at you, his hand clamping down tight against your shoulder as you lay upon his chest, still so unused to this intimacy.

‘Y/n, are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable’, he would whisper, as you snuggle further into his chest.

‘Barry, we’ve been dating for six months, don’t forget that I want to snuggle with you.’

He smiles at that, a rare smile that usually only lights his face in your presence. As the night went on, you could feel the fringes of his hair tickling your cheek, his chin bumping against your forehead as he began nodding off to sleep, despite the fact he would furiously deny it every time you would gently tap against his chest to wake him up again.

You walk slowly away from his sleeping frame, pushing the plastic windowpane until it flies open into the soft gold rays of the morning light, a grateful smile bursting onto your face as your eyes squeeze shut against the gentle spring breeze that caresses your sleepy face like the warm tide of a deep azure ocean, the sounds of tweeting robins jumping from branch to branch like a couple of childish lovers filling your heart with peace. A peace you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and feared you never would again. Tumbling back over, you sit on the corner of his bed, your hip smacking into the side as you thank everything you could think of for letting it now only be the start of the weekend, and for allowing Barry to get the rest he deserves. You place your hands on his hips, sighing gently into the silent morning as his arm still rests dead across the bottom edge of the pillow, his fingers reaching and clasping in his sleep over onto your side, searching for you against the cold cotton, a small tic he would never allow himself to do when he was awake.

He looks so young, so peaceful in his sleep, you think, as you lean down to rub your hands down the bare naked skin of his shoulders, chuckling lightly to yourself as your soft massages that dig into to the tensed muscles earn you a low, sleepy groan. A deep, thankful groan you hadn’t heard before. You smirk, leaning down to press your chest firm against his back as he tenses slightly, his eyes beginning to flicker behind his eyelids as you trace a path from his thin dimples down to the plush fullness of his lips. He wakes up with a loud grunt, with you facing him. He’s always surprised when you wrap your arms around him, always stiffens with wide eyes when you gently stroke the curls of his hair away from his eyes, but over time you had managed to get him familiarised with the normality of tenderness. He flops hid head down further onto your side of the pillow with a sick thud, his forehead coming to rest gingerly but tenderly against your own as he breathes out deeply, your familiar smell comforting as his arm finds its way around your waist again.

‘Good morning’, you whisper, your finger coming up to lean against his chin, tracing over the dip of his lip, brushing softly over his stubble as his eyes blink open again, burning as they gaze into yours desperately. Slowly, he manages to shuffle his naked thighs further along until you’re completely chest to chest, your hand running down to massage over his wide shoulder as his laugh fans over your lips warmly, your hand whirling down to itch against his back.

‘I suppose we could snuggle here a little while longer’, he whispers happily, running his fingertips through the long strands of your hair, letting it flow through his hand. It felt like such a foreign thing for him to say, and it felt a bit jolted and stiff leaving his mouth, but you appreciated the sentiment, and he appreciated the response.

A contented, lazy groan escapes his mouth as you laugh in reply, warming the tingling skin of your collarbone as you mumble ‘it doesn’t matter, you’re not going anywhere anyway’. Before he has time to question your meaning, one leg wraps over his waist like a big cuddly koala bear, soft whines protruding from his plump lips as one slender arm finds its way to cup your side, snuggling into you as you lower your head against his thumping chest.

Almost painfully slowly, he leans down until you can feel his breath warm and hurried brushing against your opening lips, until he dives in, all worries and fear being tossed out the door as his lips dance painstakingly against yours. His hands rush up to cup your cheeks, desperation evident in every caress as he runs his fingers down to your neck, leaning over you suddenly so you’re eclipsed by the magnitude of this man, the utter devotion pouring out of this desperate being. You swirl your fingers against his hips.

Knocking you suddenly out of your daydream, a burst of uncontrollable giggles stream out of his throat in a melodious stream, your back hitting the mattress as he thumps you off, his eyes widening as your mouth begins to open.

‘Barry...are you ticklish?’

‘No! No. Of course I’m not! No, no n- AH!’

Thin motions against his hips cause him to jerk involuntarily. You gasp suddenly. amused at his childish throaty chuckles as he gazes down at you, before his eyes suddenly widen in shock as his bottom hits the floor, having inched too readily away from your hands.

[apiratecalledav]

Is there other stuff that makes you think hbo messed with gendrya?

Oh, man, I’m probably gonna be thought of as the Murray Bauman of the fandom…. But yeah, there’s actually quite a bit that makes me think that it’s possible. When season 8 first aired, I thought that maybe executive meddling shot them down for some reason, most logically to protect spinoff potential.  They might have let the show “test the waters” but ultimately wanted them left ambiguous.

I thought it was… interesting… that Gendry and Arya had by far the gentlest, most amicable breakup in the entire series— and that it was over Gendry’s lordship that he straight up said wasn’t worth anything without Arya—when HBO UK made a cryptic tweet that made me wonder if someone high up was leery of the pairing/fan reaction.  If they wanted the option for an Arya Stark spinoff someday, I could see why they wouldn’t want her to end in a relationship they thought might be poorly received.  

I also thought that maybe since Gendrya went so far out of the show’s usual M.O. (to the point that it was one of the very few things about season 8 that I was wildly off about) that their thought process might have plausibly been something like, “Gendrya can’t be endgame? Well, fuck it. We’ll go all out and have them do pretty much everything else: Make out, spend the night together, save the world, say, ‘I love you,’ and get down on one knee to propose.”

I also thought that I was probably just a tinfoil-hat-wearing weirdo saying, “My OTP wasn’t definitively endgame! It must be a conspiracy.”

But I rewatched the whole season a little while ago and I noticed some things that I think are… interesting. Although, you should keep in mind that it was during two VERY long and VERY boring days at work where I had nothing to do.

I could just be shipper trash, seeing what I wanna see. Maybe not. I’m just saying that I’d believe it if something was up. From the way they portrayed Arya and Gendry, in general and especially in comparison to Jon/D-ny (I’ve anti tagged but if you don’t have blacklisting enabled, this is your fair warning), I could believe that the writers like the ship. And while Arya is certainly not the poster child for perfect mental health, there isn’t anything to suggest she would be toxic in a long term relationship. She isn’t selfish or cruel. I also don’t think that she hates herself the way that Sandor and Jaime did and that she believes she deserves to be “punished” or alone. She didn’t say anything to Gendry about not wanting to be a wife, just not a lady. 

They’re consistently portrayed as a healthier/more favorable foil to Jon and D-ny:

In 8x01, D-ny swoops down on Winterfell and is cavalier as fuck about resources.  She has no comment about food except that dragons eat “whatever they want.” The next scene, we see Gendry running to catch a chunk of dragonglass that was about to tumble out of the wagon. He tells everyone to be careful because they need every last bit of it. He then goes on to climb up the wagon, much like Arya did in the pilot episode. I think it’s even in the same spot. If not, it’s very similar.

Also 8x01, D-ny tells Jon, “keep your Queen warm” and while they are kissing, Jon keeps opening his eyes and freaking out because scary dragons are eyeballing him. And D-ny is pretty much like, “Don’t worry about it, it’s cool.” Even though she’s already made a few jokes about how if they decide to roast Jon then he’s shit outta luck and she threatened Sansa. Then the very next scene is Gendry and Sandor just before Arya finds them. Arya teases Gendry as well but she also defends him from Sandor, compliments him, jokes he should “keep close to that forge” if he’s cold and tells him not to call her Lady Stark. They laugh and banter and all awkwardness fades away and they’re both grinning like dorks. Arya actively wants Gendry to see them as equals; D-ny subconsciously wants Jon in his place.

Even as the dead are practically in their backyard, D-ny keeps obsessing about the throne. Meanwhile, Arya’s station doesn’t bother Gendry anymore because he knows it doesn’t matter. He also signed up to help Jon immediately without asking for anything in return.

Arya and Gendry each seek the other out in 8x02 but Jon spends a lot of it trying to avoid D-ny until the last moment

8x02 Arya and D-ny find out Gendry’s and Jon’s parentages. It makes no difference to Arya, she loved Gendry when he was a barmaid’s bastard and she loves him when he’s a king’s son. Jon’s  bio father shatters D-ny’s whole world.

Most of Jon’s family (this includes Sam) distrust and fear D-ny. Jon and Sandor like Gendry and Sansa and Bran have no complaints at least.

Their ~love scenes~ have a few shots that mirror each other, too.  But we see the buildup for Arya and Gendry, their conversation, their first kiss, undressing each other. We see Jon and D-ny and in the middle of things, during a montage explaining how they’re closely related and narrated by Jon’s little brother. Not exactly sexy. Then it cuts to Tyrion lurking nearby looking troubled and finally ends with an ominous shot of the Targ flagship in the dark and gloom. Meanwhile, Arya and Gendry are alone, not related, and are the sole focus of the scene. There’s not even music.

In 8x04, at the funeral, Gendry and Arya are initially a good distance apart. Then after they light the pyres, you get a shot of Arya with (an admittedly very blurry) Gendry visible over her shoulder. Meanwhile, Jon and D-ny stand together while lighting the fire and then they part.  

Gendry’s “I love you” to Arya is enthusiastic and happy and D-ny’s to Jon is coming from a place of mourning at best and it’s straight up manipulative at worst.  The words “I love you” are rare in this show. I can only remember Jorah saying it a couple of times, Littlefinger to Cat and Sansa, Joffrey pledging to wed Margaery, and Robb to Talisa. The only times it’s not sad or creepy are Robb and Gendry.

These two scenes are the most glaringly obvious. But to summarize, Arya tries to set Gendry “free” when his life changes in a direction she doesn’t want for herself and D-ny tries to put Jon into a corner and make sure his life CAN’T change into one that she doesn’t want. 

So with that stuff in mind, I could buy that maybe they wanted Arya and Gendry to reunite in King’s Landing and try to save civilians together.  Or maybe have Jon ask Gendry to take Arya as far away as he can before Jon goes to that throne room to do what he has to do. Hell, look at Arya’s final scene as is: She’s on a ship and then you see her Stark sigil on the sail against the sunlight… If Gendry was with her, that’d sure look like a happier version of D-ny and Jon’s scene from the end of season 7…   While probably a bit too on the nose for GRRM’s books, I could see the show implying that Gendry and Arya are the second, more hopeful verse of the Song of Ice and Fire…

Other Season 8 Subtext-y things:

Marriage imagery; Arya under Gendry’s cloak. Bonus points for it being shown during these lines from Jenny’s song: “spun away all her sorrow and pain/and she never wanted to leave.”  “She spun away and said to him, ‘no featherbed for me.’”

Pretty much all of Gendry’s scenes in season 8 are with Arya or he’s with Sandor, talking about her. The small handful of times he’s not with either of them, he’s with her siblings and other people connected to House Stark like Tormund and Davos and even Sam and Edd.  After their “breakup” he virtually disappears. Pretty much the ENTIRE reason they brought him back was for Arya and to be tied strongly to House Stark.

Beric and Melissandre, who once wanted to sacrifice Gendry for “the greater good” and caused Arya to turn towards a darker path, sacrifice themselves to defeat the dead, not only saving Arya’s and Gendry’s lives but guiding Arya further into “light.” To the point where she literally ends the Long Night.

Gendry tells Arya that she’s beautiful and he loves her and gets down on one knee to ask her to marry him… Which is so wildly uncharacteristic for this show that I still can’t believe that it’s real. It’s by far the most traditional romantic moment in the entire series.  I suppose it could just be fan service, but 8x02 would have sufficed on that front. Not to mention that “fan service” in this show has never been something so wholesome.  

They could have done the proposal differently. They could have had Gendry say crap like, “Now we can settle down and live a boring, respectable life” or something else that would have been really unappealing to Arya. It actually would have been another connection to Robert/Lyanna, where Robert only loved his idea of Lyanna. But nope. They could have framed it as Gendry trying to do the honorable thing or “they’re gonna marry us off anyway, at least we like each other.” But nope.

Gendry could have been put off by Arya’s combat skills but he was turned on by it. She even used her “game of faces” voice on him and it didn’t send him running for the hills.

They also could have easily had Gendry be too “tame” for Arya but nope.  Her face at this part just kills me.

They made a thing out of Gendry being “forever loyal” to D-ny after she legitimized him but he had jack shit to say about her at the Great Council and was all too happy to vote for King Bran, even after Arya had turned him down.

A follow up to that other post in regards to a Gendry-ish looking guy grabbing Arya and asking if she’s seen his wife, Alanna: Magaery’s cousin with the same sounding name gets a GRRM-esque weird spelling: Allana with two Ls and one N. As opposed to the more traditional spelling that looks more like Lyanna….

One of the surviving lords at the Great Council is specifically from the Storm Lands. He’s probably who has had Storm’s End for the last few years and maybe he doesn’t deserve to get kicked out by a boy who doesn’t have any idea how to be a lord and doesn’t even want to be a lord without Arya.  He even has a name: Lord Une.  The Dornish prince doesn’t have a first name but this guy does?

Also, Une is a very unusual name. It’s not from the books and it doesn’t really sound Medieval Europe-y, either. Maybe there’s an inside joke or something? That’s definitely not a name you just pull from the air.  

Arya lights Beric’s funeral pyre but if Sandor didn’t have issues with fire, I think he probably would have done it as Beric’s last surviving friend. It kind of gives us the sense that Arya can do what Sandor can’t—which of course, she ultimately does when she decides to leave Cersei while Sandor, who has missed so much being hurt and angry, can only have peace/forgive himself is if he stops Gregor forever. 

In the very next scene after the funeral, we see Gendry and Sandor talk about Arya. Sandor basically says that normal, living people have emotions and hormones and it’s not a bad thing.  Sometime later, we see Sandor scare off a girl who makes a pass at him. The next scene is Gendry and Arya. Arya also ‘rejects’ her love interest but it’s in an infinitely more thoughtful way. We already know that it’s easier for Arya to be close to other people than it was for Sandor. Arya just has a little bit more to go until she’s completely ready for something serious.  

Episodes 1 and 2 establish a pattern of “Sandor then Gendry.” It’s how they arrive at Winterfell. It’s how they reunite with Arya. It’s how Arya visits them towards the end of 8x02. Sooo again, I could see at one point the intention was for them to reunite in King’s Landing. Possibly during that bit where it keeps cutting back and forth between Sandor and Arya; “hateful” Gregor grabs Sandor up to throw him around and “loving” Gendry lifts Arya to save her from getting trampled. Nora, the name of the kind stranger who does help Arya, is essentially the “female equivalent” of Gendry’s name.    

According to the leaked outline of season 7, Gendry was originally supposed to be rescued by Benjen beyond the wall. In season 8, he has scenes with Jon, Sansa, and Bran, and even Edmure and Robin. ALMOST LIKE THEY WANTED HIM TO MEET *ALL* OF ARYA’S FAMILY. I’m pretty sure only Tyrion has met more Starks and Tullys than Gendry.

The “Ice battle” was at Arya’s childhood home and the “Fire battle” was at Gendry’s. And yeah, I think it’s pretty damn weird that a capable, uninjured soldier who has knowledge of King’s Landing isn’t there.

They gave them a reference to The Princess Bride: “As you wish.” Comparing them to a beloved couple from a modern classic is a good sign. Comparing them to most likely a childhood favorite? Even better. Comparing them to a couple where their other famous line is “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a little while.” And Arya and Gendry are still alive.  Actually, it might be a coincidence but they do have a SHIT-TON in common with The Princess Bride. GRRM is a fan, too, so maybe it was discussed at some point. It’s certainly uncanny if it wasn’t at least partially intentional. But that’s a different post.  

Sandor knows about Gendry and Arya and he doesn’t rip Gendry’s head off. Gendry basically got a blessing from Arya’s last legal guardian.

Their outfits reflect each other’s houses, Gendry’s clothes having some very Stark direwolf-like scratch marks and Arya’s scabbard is yellow and black aka Baratheon colors.

I haven’t listened to it yet, but apparently in the leaked audio commentary for 8x06, they talked about how Joe wanted Arya to notice how hot Gendry looked.

Other stuff that makes me think that the writers like Gendrya:

They gave them a lot of time and focus. Even in season 8 where they had very limited time. And objectively speaking, that time probably should have been spent with Arya and her siblings.

They had Arya befriend Gendry earlier and easier than she does in the books.

In behind the episode of 8x02, Benioff talked about how you choose to spend your last night on earth says a lot about you. The very first example he gives is Arya wanting to be with Gendry.

They are always depicted positively:  They trust each other; they respect each other; they make each other laugh; they protect each other.  Even during their “breakups” in season 3 and 8; they are honest and accepting of each other’s decisions.  These two are young and inexperienced but they manage to be more mature and healthier than 95% of the other couples.  Their relationship also doesn’t doom them the way that Robb and Talisa’s did.

They changed stuff from the books to make it– not more romantic per se given Arya’s age– but certainly shipping fuel that fit more into romantic tropes: How they meet, how Gendry discovers that she’s a girl, how Arya blatantly checks him out when he’s shirtless. Their long one-on-one and emotional “goodbye” scene where Arya says, “I can be your family.”

They changed/added lines to foreshadow “My Featherbed,” aka where Gendry is legitimized but gives it up for Arya: “I have a son, you have a daughter. We’ll join our houses” but leaving out how Robert specified Joffrey and Sansa. Changing “you’ll marry a king” and “no, that’s Sansa” to “you’ll marry a high lord” and “no, that’s not me.”  Davos telling Gendry how he became a lord to help his son and it actually got Mathos killed in battle.

The main bullet points of season 8 were largely what I was expecting and I was at least in the ballpark about a lot of the details. Like did I predict King Bran? No, but I knew he belonged in the south because he named his direwolf Summer. I knew the king or queen would be a dark horse and I was fairly certain Tyrion would be Hand. The few things I didn’t anticipate still seemed to validate the main themes and messages I thought that GRRM was going for. Like King Bran. Now I can’t believe I didn’t see it. Who better to “end the game of thrones” than someone who doesn’t want to play and also can’t be plotted against?

Gendrya is the one major thing that tripped me up. Seriously. I would have bet my fucking car that if Gendry didn’t die, he’d walk away from a lordship and be with Arya on her ship, even if the nature of their relationship was ambiguous.  

So I could believe that they wanted or at least expected Gendrya to be endgame since season 1 and someone told them no. It could have been GRRM but I must admit that I have a difficult time believing that.

I guess I could see GRRM having the point of their relationship be that Arya is upfront and honest about what she wants and Gendry respects her decision and doesn’t turn into a bitter/mopey drunk. Or that Gendry dies and Arya doesn’t wallow in it forever… But there’s so much that makes me think that Gendry is meant to be the “sweet” part of Arya’s bittersweet ending, and at least be her True Companion.  Not to mention they’re still too young to really have a relationship in the books. Well, at least Arya is. And those particular parallels to Robert and Lyanna fall pretty flat in my opinion if they’re not romantically involved.   I mean, come ON. How the hell could it NOT end with the possibility of Lyanna’s niece/ Jon’s sister and Robert’s son/D-ny+Rags cousin???

Possible HBO Shenanigans:  

I thought it was kinda funny that HBO UK–not Game of Thrones but an official HBO account– made a tweet shortly before 8x02 aired implying that Arya is eighteen… when she’s more likely sixteen (lots of reasons, not to mention that Maisie has even said that Arya is sixteen.) And sixteen is the age of consent in the UK anyway.  As far as I know, that was the only public attempt by HBO to quell controversy in an already hugely controversial season. Like, after The Bells, I don’t think anyone at HBO tweeted about “Ideally, good rulers don’t commit 2.5 times the amount of war crimes as the Night King.” So I do have to wonder if there’s a reason that they’re particularly invested and protective about Arya’s reception…

There was a huge shitstorm when Tommen and Margaery got married and pretty much most of that stuff was off screen.  Sure, Arya’s a bit older and Maisie was in her 20s while Dean-Charles was still in his teens… but people do tend to get much more outraged when it’s a girl with an older guy than vice versa.

There was also a big shakeup when AT&T acquired HBO and they got a new CEO early in 2019, a couple of months before season 8 aired. The former CEO seemed to have been championing Bloodmoon, that prequel that got canceled recently. He might have been pulling more for a potential Arya show back when the season was still being written… the new people at AT&T also seemed extremely upset over what the budgets for GoT and Big Little Lies did for their bottom line.  

While HBO has stated emphatically that there are no current plans for an Arya spinoff, they were sure to tack on a “right now, a sequel […] doesn’t make sense for us.” I do believe that this is something they want to have in their back pocket.  There’s a lot of interest in the idea and if House of the Dragon does well, I won’t be shocked if five+ years down the line we get at least a movie or a limited series about Arya. It’s by far the easiest, since her character can be isolated from everyone else and there are tons of cool places to explore. Hell, if they were really desperate, they wouldn’t even need Maisie Williams to come back. They could just recast and say she’s wearing someone else’s face to hide from mercenaries or something.  

GRRM gave an interview talking about how certain characters who have “a high Q rating” (popular) get pushed into more screen time. Bronn is almost certainly one of those characters. He’s always been a self-serving asshole, but the things that made him feel more like an affable rascal—his funny lines, his genuine and open fondness for Podrick—are all but gone in season 8. Not to mention that there’s the implied possibility he’s dying from some “pox.” In the outline for season 7, he’s much closer to “Season 8 Bronn.” Like, he was the one who was originally going to ask Jaime about Widow’s Wail and call Joffrey a “See-You-Next-Tuesday.” When Olenna said it, it was pretty funny. But coming from Bronn, it was a real dick move. I could believe that their “treatment” of Bronn in season 8 was a bit of a middle finger to him. The same way I could perceive Gendrya’s portrayal as being a “fuck you” if they weren’t allowed to actually be endgame.

TL;DR: Gendry and Arya are one of the very few healthy couples in the entire series,  and it could be argued that they even get “special” treatment. Both of them lived and while Arya certainly has been traumatized, she is not a walking dumpster fire who wouldn’t be good for him. It would have been only too easy for them to be portrayed as incompatible or worse but they weren’t. Their breakup is over a virtual nonissue. So it’s not out of the range possibility that they were a victim of executive meddling.  

And please spare me any “bUt D&D aRe ToO STuPId tO dO tHis.” I’m not campaigning for them to win Pulitzers any time soon, but the notion that they’re complete nitwits is just silly. They both have M.F.A.s  from very good schools and their scripts/outlines that I’ve read have a lot of really clever and really well-thought-out references, ranging from history to poetry to literature to even The Rolling Stones.  

I’m not saying that they intentionally did all this stuff but they certainly could have if they wanted to.

[tonyspep]

of muffins and men

a/n: /i usually never write rpf or reader insert stuff but bluesfortheredj inspired me with their richard madden imagines and now here we are lol

~*~of muffins and men~*~

pairing: richard madden/you

summary: there's an adorable five year old boy who comes into your bakery with his mom nearly every weekend until one day he comes in with his dad [single dad!richard au]

rating: t

You had opened your bakery six months ago and slowly but surely had built a reputation in the neighborhood for fresh scones and a nice cuppa.

You had a few frequent customers – the elderly couple who had their golden with them (rudy who you always made sure got a biscuit himself), a group of students at university who you'd extend the hours for when they needed to cram (something you didn't miss at all), a young couple (girlfriends) who had just moved into a small flat two blocks away and a mother and her five year old son.

The mother and son you occasionally saw during the week but mostly on the weekends. The mother thanking you breathlessly because – apparently – your butter scones were the only thing that could get the boy up at a decent hour.

He was adorable with his mop of auburn curls and the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen.

He was quite shy, as well, murmuring, “thank you” through a mouthful of scone, crumbs coating his lips and fingertips before he'd scurry back behind his mother's legs, making her laugh softly.

It's a beautiful day, you can't help but notice, as you flip the sign out front from closed to open. You sip delicately at your cup of Earl Grey with a splash of honey when you hear a tiny voice chirp from across the way, “Daaaaaaaa hurry!!! Miss Penny always makes sure there's a fresh scone for me and Mummy!!! I don't want her to give them away cause you're being slow!!!”

“Hey, now,” A heavy Scottish brogue comes next and noooo your knees do not go weak from the hint of gravel underneath. “If Miss Penny is as wonderful as you say, I doubt she's going to give your scone away. Stay close, big man,” There's a grunt as the owner of the voice lifts the boy from the ground. “Can't have you runnin' off and hurtin' yourself. I'll never forgive myself,” The tone is fierce and ten there's the sound of a loud smacking kiss. “If somethin' happened to you.”

“Miss Penny!!!” The bright yelp of your name causes you turn your head and you feel a smile take over your lips as you see the familiar mop of auburn curls and crystalline blue eyes. You wave briefly before turning to head inside and prepare the two scones, warming them briefly in the oven and pour the glass of milk for him before fixing his mother's customary cup of lavender tea.

Your back is turned when you hear the bell above the door jingle and then it's the scuffing of his sneakers across the floor as he barrels into the display case, like always, pressing his face to the glass eyes scanning the rows of sweets as his mother always lets him take one home. You're about to start the steeping of the tea when there's the brogue from earlier, “You don't have to do that. I'm not much of a tea drinker. That's Alfie's Mum.”

“Oh,” You murmur cheeks flushing because you catch the wonderfully male scent of pine and musk with a crisp note of apple underneath. You turn – question of what he would like instead on the tip of your tongue – and you swear, for just a second, you forget to breathe. You assumed the combination of a voice like that and such a heady scent would belong to someone attractive, but you never would have dreamed you'd be staring at the familiar chiseled features of Richard Madden.

“Never thought anything would get this one up,” Brings you back to the here and now as you blink a few times, trying to get your brain to start working properly again. “Before noon especially on a weekend. It's enough trouble trying to get him up for school. Your scones must be somethin' special.”

“It's just an, um, old... It's not... I wouldn't say...” oh my god, you thought not quite believing that you couldn't form a simple sentence. seriously, can a hole just open up and swallow me whole, please?

You felt an intense heat work its way from your neck to your cheeks and not for the first time you were cursing your fair skin. Not only did you look like a perfectly ripe tomato when you blushed, the freckles and sun spots across your cheeks and nose stood out like a beacon and you'd always hated them. Along with your strawberry blonde hair, which was almost always braided – for baking, it was best kept out of your way – you looked like Pippi Longstocking. And here you were unable to speak properly but looking like a tomato, wearing a blue button up, ripped jeans that have been washed god knows how many times and your plain brown apron with your comfortable white Keds.

Exactly how you imagined you would look when one of the hottest men on the planet walked into your shop.

Notting Hill was such a fucking lie. Ugh.

“It's just an old family recipe,” You finally managed softly, willing the blush to recede. “Nothing special.”

“I think I'll be the judge of that,” He winks... actually winks just like in Rocketman and you're reminded of the tweet you sent out after you had seen it (the first time) richard madden could wink me into an early grave and in this moment, you think he just might as your heart nearly stops and you forget to breathe once again.

“Not to mention,” He bends, lifting the boy into his arms and squeezing him tight while the little one flails and groans, “Daaaaaaa stoooooooop it!!!” He doesn't, instead he squeezes tighter and you think fleetingly, can i get pregnant from this as he says, “This one's goin' through a picky faze. Getting him to try anything new's a bit of a hassle right now.”

The timer on the oven beeps – the scones done warming – and you're more than thankful because you don't think your brain is firing on all cylinders to continue trying to make conversation. You wrap each scone in brown parchment, murmuring, “it keeps the heat in,” as you hand the boy his first and then offer the other to his father.

And that's how you should think of the impossibly handsome man in front of you as the cute little boy's father because thinking of him as Richard fucking Madden whom you've thirsted over since seeing him in Ibiza – sending out tweets like just watched the entire six episodes of the bodyguard and david budd can say yes ma'am to me all day or how could you forget the gem stared at richard madden's clenched jaw too long and now i'm pregnant – meant you would probably spontaneously combust  in a matter of seconds.

Especially since you couldn't help but watch his every move as he bit into the soft, crumbly pastry that perfectly sharp jaw working as he chewed.

Clearly Sarah – your best friend is right – you do need – desperately so – to get laid. You can't take your eyes off of him as he chews. That tweet Buzzfeed made him read is right, he is a thirst trap just by existing.\

“I told youuuuuuuuuu,” The little one sing-songs, face covered in crumbs and flashing an adorable gap-toothed grin. “Miss Penny's scones are the bessssssst.”

A delicious laugh falls from the sinful plumpness of his lips and your knees knock together so you don't fall into a helpless heap on the floor. He discretely wipes the crumbs on the side of his mouth with his thumb and briefly brings the digit to his mouth, laving the remainder quickly, and an intense shudder rolls through your whole body. He bends addressing his son quietly, whatever he says makes the little boy laugh, and his brogue brings you back to yourself as he says, “My Mum's visiting this week, she'd sure love a homemade scone or two. Can we get a dozen and somethin' for this little monster to snack on later, please?”

You're thankful you can fall back into the routine of bakery owner. Going through the familiar motions will make you less likely to say something ridiculous and scare him away. You remember he said in an interview once that he would wear the same clothes two or three days in a row because the paparazzi could only run the pictures once. You also remember reading his neighbors created a group text to let him know when the vultures were lurking. Your heart ached thinking how lonely of an existence that could be.

With his perfectly lean gym-toned body you doubted he indulged in any kind of sweets but you couldn't resist adding a strawberry cupcake for him along with the dozen scones and the lemon bar for his son. You tied the box with its customary blue ribbon and stamped the shop's seal as well before handing it to him, your fingers softly brushing against his and as he said, “thank you,” he flashed his brilliant white teeth, plump lips curling into a grin that any romance novelist would have described and roguish and there went your knees again.

Not that you ever thought you would see him again – he was an international celebrity, after all – you didn't think it would be so soon after first time.

It was the end of the week – the sun was just starting to set and you were about to start going through the closing routine, your best girl – Amber, the only one you trusted in the shop without you – had just left for the night and just as you were about to start going through the till, the bell above the shop's door jingled. You sighed heavily, tightening the ribbon that held back your riot of curls, and wiped your hands along your apron reminding yourself to be professional. You hated turning any customer away – even on night's like tonight – you were dog tired, your feet ached and you felt as though you could barely stand but you were barely established and couldn't afford to lose a sale, no matter how small or how run down you were.

“How can I...” The familiar words died on your tongue, your eyes widening when you found yourself staring at the chiseled features of the man who starred in your most vivid fantasies. “Hello,” Stumbled off your lips and you wished the ground could swallow you whole... hello, really, pen?????? there was Sarah's voice taunting you and you could practically see her deep eyes rolling at your incompetence.

“I would have come earlier – I know you're closin' up now – but I don't get to see my Ma as often as I would like,” A flush colors his chiseled cheekbones, his hand coming to rub at the back of his neck and no your eyes don't follow the rugged lean muscle of his forearm as it ripples from the mundane action. “So I wasn't able to. Alfie and I had to see her off y'know. Anyway, I – uh – found your,” His eyebrows waggle and his lips twist into a positively sinful smirk, emphasizing the pillowy softness of his plumper bottom lip and your throat is suddenly desert dry. “Surprise,” He chuckles, low and deep. “I've always been a vanilla fan but you could change a man's mind with a strawberry cupcake like that. Another family recipe?”

“N-no, um,” You shake your head as you feel your hands tremble at your sides. “It's mine.”

“I couldn't help but notice you didn't charge...” He started to say as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and you interrupted, “It was on the house. The shop's barely been open six months and your family,” You stumble over the word, not quite sure how to classify Alfie and his mother. “Has been very good to me since I opened it. They're so loyal.”

“Still...” He tries and you cut him off again, your voice a little firmer, “I won't accept your money. You paid for your dozen scones and lemon bar. You'll throw off the till if I put it in the register, anyway. It's just an unnecessary hassle.”

You think he'll try to foist the bills on you, anyway but instead he pushes his wallet down and begins to roll up the sleeves of his fitted Henley and your brows burrow down while your lips twist into confusion. He answers your silent question easily as he rubs his hands together and turns those gorgeous crystalline blue eyes on you, “Then what can I take care of for you? The floors need sweeping? Moppin', maybe? Windows need a wash? Rubbish needs to go to the bin?”

“Huh?” Is all you can sputter out. There's another chuckle – just as low and deep – but somehow more delicious as he leans in close and suddenly the edge of your jaw is cupped by his large hand as he draws your face upwards. The heat of his breath ghosts across your face – tinged with cinnamon – as he murmurs, “You won't let me pay and I'd like to think I was raised right, so I'm afraid – Miss Penny – I cannot in good conscious accept your cupcake without some form of recompense. Manual labor will have to do then, yeah?”

“Penelope,” Your full name leaves your suddenly tremulous lips and you're sure your brain is mush, literally, because he's giving you that unbelievable grin and when he repeats your name back, testing the eight letters on his tongue, you swear you're going to wake up and be in a tangle of your sheets with your hound Rufus staring at you, head titled with worry at your tossing and turning. You're so sure of this, that you actually close your eyes, expecting to see the butter yellow walls of your bedroom but instead it's Richard fucking Madden's out-of-this-world handsome face staring at you his eyes so deep and warm it's like they can see right through you.

“You, uh, really... It's fine... It's no big deal,” You murmur, your protest so weak and your voice so soft you can barely hear yourself.  “It's just a cupcake.”

“A damn fine one made by a beautiful lady. Stubborn, too, it seems,” He clicks his tongue and gives a  flash of a cheeky grin while his thumb slides along the edge of your jaw and you feel yourself melt his hand is so warm and the slight calluses on his thumb drag across the softness of your skin and it's too much so heady and it's like a haze has settled over your brain.

“If you have to pay me back,” Suddenly you're bold, you can hear the teasing tone in your voice and how it's dropped an octave. You're peering through your lashes, thankful you remembered mascara this morning as it makes them darker and more full than usual and then you're taking your bottom lip between your teeth and it's probably just your imagination but you see his eyes flash – a deeper, richer blue – to your lips, tracing the cupid's bow seam and another shudder rolls through you. “I guess you can start by sweeping the floor's good sir.” Your best haughty voice and you're rewarded with yet another chuckle.

It's fast becoming your favorite sound.

You discretely pinch your elbow – still believing this is a dream or at best a very vivid fantasy conjured by your tired, run down mind – as you walk back behind the counter while he begins to sweep. You can't believe this is actually happening... Richard Madden in your shop and he's sweeping your floors... something's gone terribly off the rails, hasn't it?

Then he chuckles, drawing you out of your thoughts, and he's turned those impossibly beautiful eyes on you again and asks, “An Elton fan, huh?”

And that's when you realize “Honky Cat” is playing in the background from your phone which is set to the Elton John playlist you found on spotify.

That awful blush spreads from your neck upward and you absently tug at an errant curl that's slipped from your messy bun. You bite your lip, willing your blush to go away, as you murmur, “Always have been. Sorry. I'll change it. I didn't, um, even realize that was playing.”

“Nonsense.” He shakes his head. “This happens to be my favorite song.” A cheeky wink and you wonder, seriously, how you're standing? Because if he smiles, chuckles or winks at you again, you're positive you'll end up as nothing but a puddle.

“Thank you.” You say when he's finished and is following you out the door after you've shut off the lights and counted the till. You feel a flash of bold rush through you as you tilt your head just so and bat your lashes, briefly, reaching to touch his wrist, “What are you doing, say every night around this time, for the foreseeable future? Because if acting fizzles for you, I must say you're an excellent sweeper, sir.”

He laughs – not chuckles but laughs – his eyes crinkling attractively as he does, head thrown back and exposing the tempting flesh of the stern tendons in his neck and you swallow thickly.

“Sweeper for the best baker in Londontown?” He strokes his chin, drawing your attention to his sinful fingers – slender but rugged – and you feel your stomach clench as he places his other hand at your hip, bringing you into the hard planes of his body. “How would I be able to refuse such a tantalizing offer? What is the pay rate? A dozen scones? Another delectable cupcake? Or...” His voice trails away before he bends his head, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His voice drops an octave, something rough and tinged with heat, “Something better? A kiss, perhaps?”

“Richard...” His name nothing less than a breathless keen and then he's tilting your head, his pillowy soft lips slanting against your own.

“Penelope...” A heavy groan from deep inside his chest as you both pull back because – ugh – oxygen is a necessity. That kiss spurred a rush inside you and after you catch your breath, your drawing his lips back to yours. One taste – so warm and heady – is not close to being enough you need more, more, more, more, more and this time your tongue slides into his mouth – which falls open easily – seeking his and then they're tangling as you clutch at his strong back, feeling the muscles clench and flex while his hand grips a hearty handful of your right cheek, pulling you even closer and it's like he's trying to crawl inside you with this kiss and your toes are curling and you don't know how you've gone so long without a kiss like this.

“Soon I hope to see the freckles your hiding,” Ragged and rough and your thighs rub together wantonly as you moan. “You can't say things like that,” You chastise, shoving him playfully. He stumbles back theatrically and you laugh, shaking your head and then he's wound his arms around you, trapping you against him. “You'll give a girl ideas,” You manage as his lips attach themselves to the long column of your neck, sucking here and there.

“And pray tell what kind of ideas are you referring to?”

“Ones that shouldn't be spoken of on the street.”

“Whisper them to me then.”

In the end, you don't. You yawn and suddenly you're reminded of your aching feet and how you've been up since four in the morning. You share another kiss – this is something tender and gentle, your tongues still tangle, though – and you end up resting your forehead against his. He brushes a wayward curl away as a brief breeze blows through and your heart clutches. You can't handle the way he's staring at you – so focused, so open and warm – it's like nothing else in the world exists. It's too much but you never want him to stop.

Your phone number is in his phone now and his in yours.

You don't know how you're not physically chasing him as you watch him disappear into the night because now that he's kissed you, you don't know how you'll survive without another.

Your phone pings and there's a text tell me those ideas i've put in your head

You shake your head and text back a lady would never

you'll tell me soon enough. /just like soon enough i'll see those freckles your hiding.

You don't know how you manage to stumble through your flat, Rufus practically mauling you, as that last text made your knees weaker than they'd ever been. You fall asleep in a tangle of sheets and when you wake up the next day there's a text waiting for you.

is it soon enough yet?

You giggle and squeal like some silly school girl and as you peel your pajamas away and step into the steaming shower, you think this man is going to be the death of me

[eremiss]

25. Trust

*Spoilers up to unlocking the Qitana Ravel dungeon (lvl 75 MSQ?)

*Set after ‘Wilt’

*I’m currently subscribed to ‘because Duskfeather is a regular/non-magical creature he couldn’t make the trip to the First’ headcanon, as that’s how I’ve been treating him for all of ShB so far.

Thancred isn’t remotely surprised to find Gwen at the jaculu pens, watching the creatures despite the fact that they’re asleep and doing precisely nothing worth watching. Her eyes had lit up with glee --glee-- when one had soared over their heads as they entered Fanow, and anyone who’s known her for more than a day, on the Source, anyway, knows she has a fondness for the creatures.

Her lifted mood had lasted all of a minute, if that. He can’t say he’s surprised. The last few days had been naught but one harrowing twist of fate after the next, starting from the moment the Eulmorans had joined forces with the Children of the Everlasting Dark and all but declared war on the Night’s Blessed.

They’d endured and fought on, as they always did. What else could they have done?

Everything wound up alright in the end, thank the Twelve, but it had taken a hell of a toll.

And they still weren’t done. Everything before now was just assorted obstacles and hurdles on the road to their real challenge: the light warden that’s lurking somewhere in The Qitana Ravel.

That’s a problem for tomorrow, not now, he tells himself, trying not to let himself fully consider or grasp the magnitude of such a task, lest the thought drain him any further. He wouldn’t know it looking at the sky, but the hour is late. Tomorrow. Think about it tomorrow. Not now.

But tomorrow is never so far away as it sounds, always looming just over his shoulder. Unless he’s waiting for something, of course, and then tomorrow is always impossibly out of reach.

Gwen is watching the sleeping jaculu with an unmistakably wistful look, an air of longing about her akin to homesickness. If Thancred didn’t know better he would think she was considering climbing into the pen and cuddling with the jaculu in place of a certain ornery griffin. 

Duskfeather didn’t make the trip to the First, and she’s been without him for more than a moon now. She hasn’t mentioned overmuch, or drawn any attention to his absence, just as she so rarely gives voice to any of her problems, but Thancred knows her well enough, even after five years, to know that she misses Duskfeather deeply. How much she’s written about him has just been proof.

Regret worms its way into the back of his mind for the few jokes he’s made about Duskfeather’s absence and Gwen having to walk everywhere on her own two feet. She'd rolled her eyes laughed them off in the moment, but he finds himself suddenly questioning her sincerity. Perhaps such jests were in more poor taste than he’d realized. 

Gwen hasn’t noticed him, still watching the sleeping creatuers. She knows better than to act on whatever she may be thinking--or Thancred hopes she does, at least. If the jaculu are as similar to griffins in temperament as they are in appearance, they won’t take kindly to a stranger trying to cuddle them. 

Given the look on her face, she might just be willing to throw caution to the wind and try anyway.

Thancred shakes his head as he draws near, drawling, “If you want to steal one, you’re on your own.”

Gwen turns her face slightly towards him, eyes remaining on the sleeping birds. Her mouth curves in a weak smile, “I don’t look that desperate, do I?”

“You’re pining, dove.”

Her smile tilts, turning a little wry, “You wouldn’t help?” 

“I can’t say the idea of getting maimed has ever appealed to me. I much prefer my extremities the way they are: attached and undamaged.” He holds out his hands and wiggles his fingers to prove it.

Gwen lets out a small laugh and then sighs, sagging against the fence. She looks… not quite miserable, maybe, but only barely.

Duskfeather is unreachable but Thancred isn’t, and he’s far less opposed to hugs than a jacular would be. Hopefully that’s good enough. 

He leans against the gate just beside her and trails a hand across the small of her back. An offer.

Gwen smiles, mostly to herself, and shifts over to lean against him.

Rak’tika is quiet except for the bugs and the strange half-tweet, half-purring sounds of snoring jaculu, their heads are tucked under their wings to hide from the light. As the two of them stand there together Thancred becomes aware of a slight tension in the quasi-silence, the kind that suggests Gwen has something to say but hasn’t yet decided how to parse it.

He doesn’t try to rush her, despite the nagging awareness of the hour and bothersome acknowledgement that they both ought to get to sleep sooner rather than later. The last few days have been long, and tomorrow won’t be any shorter.

Thancred casts a wary glance over his shoulder, wondering if Emet-selch is going to drop in unannounced again. 

The Ascian had the decency to make himself scarce earlier, on top of actually doing something useful rather than merely plaguing them an ulcer that’s been cursed with speech, but Thancred finds little comfort in his absence. Not being able to see Emet-Selch means very little given his irritating propensity for eavesdropping and intruding whenever the mood strikes him.

A visual sweep of the area doesn’t reveal any black coats or brown-and-white hair, but that doesn’t necessarily mean Emet-selch isn’t there.

“Thancred?” Gwen asks quietly. 

Her tone immediately draws his attention. He looks back to find her picking and chipping away at her nails, and the sight draws concern to the forefront of his mind.

He settles his arm around her waist and rests his other hand over hers, putting and end to the nervous habit. “What is it?”

Her hands curl around his, loose for a moment before squeezing. “Do you,” she asks mutedly, mostly to his hands, “trust me?”

The question catches him off guard, but not so much that he doesn’t realize the speed of his reply is just as important, if not moreso, than the words he chooses. Doubt is adept at taking root in the silence that follows such heavy question. He answers at once, “Of course, Gwen. Completely.” He curls his hand as best he can around both of hers and gives a reassuring squeeze.

Gwen exhales and relaxes a little, pressing closer to him.

Glad though he is that his knee-jerk response was reassuring, he’s more concerned about where that question had come from all of a sudden. Why would she ask such a thing? His mind has already run off in a dozen different directions in search of possible explanations, and he quickly does his best to catch up with it. 

He thought his trust in her was obvious, and the implication that it isn’t weighs oddly on him.  Why...

The sense of distance between them that has been lurking at the edge of every hint of disapproval or ambivalence that has passed between them since her arrival chafes suddenly. He frowns and pushes it aside. All of that is just his old insecurity talking. They’re not so tightly knit as they were, but they’re still close.

It’s more likely she’s seeking a bit of assurance and affirmation in a moment of weakness. It wouldn’t be the first time.

A sliver of a larger thought juts out: could it be about her journal?

An uncomfortable sensation crawls across his thoughts. 

That... what does that have to do with trust?

Well, stealing someone’s dearest personal possession in order to dig through their private thoughts sounds less like the actions of a close friend and more like those of someone harboring distrust or ill will. And the same goes for taking measures to cover their tracks and avoid suspicion to ensure they aren’t discovered.

He’d stolen her journal right before she left Mord Souq, then played the fool when she returned.

It’s an odd fit, maybe, but it’s the only connection that springs to mind.

But she doesn’t know he stole it. She thought she’d lost it, and scoured the Crystarium streets looking for it the moment she returned. She doesn’t suspect he...

A jolt of cold panic shoots up his spine and his heart seizes up.

...Does she?

His heart abruptly jumps from stillness to a breakneck pace that makes his chest ache, worry coursing through him like nausea. Thancred grits his and doggedly maintains his outward composure, grateful that Gwen's preoccupied gaze is directed at the sleeping jaculu rather than at him. 

He measures his breaths, forcing them under control, and his heart rate gradually begins to fall in line.

Every time he recalls their fight, the yelling, the words they’d hurled at one another that hit too close to the truth, the way he’d lashed out and struck her desk, his heart does a sickened little flip and something inside him cracks.

He curses the way he’d lost control and the useless state he’d been left in afterwards, off balance and practically in shock at his own actions. He’d felt as though he’d been broken open somehow, and his thoughts forcibly scattered. It had nearly taken physical effort to pull himself back together again.

Thancred tells himself his addled mind is the only reason he’d been willing to act on the reckless impulse that had driven him to slip her journal into his pocket; to steal her most private thoughts despite the fragile state they’d been in, despite her presence, despite reason, despite his conscience. 

There’s no way in all seven hells he would have taken such a brazen, idiotic risk if he’d been in is right mind. He scarcely even remembers doing it. 

She’d stepped away, her back to him as she reached for her bag. One moment her journal was lying open on her desk, and the next it was in his pocket. As simple as that. 

Even though they’d only just mellowed out from the thorny argument that had erupted out of nowhere spiraled out of control. 

Even though, despite Gwen’s assurances, he had no idea what would become of them if they walked away right there and then. Even though she was on a timer, she was leaving, and the window for trying to talk, for trying to mend things or smooth them over, for doing anything at all to try and set things right again, was closing far too quickly. 

Even though she’d been five sodding fulms away in plain sight.

If she’d seen him… He can’t even bring himself to conceive of the consequences.

And, beyond that, if she’d put the pieces together and realized just how long he’s been invading her privacy and delving into the thing she treated as an extension of her thoughts…

There’s reckless, there’s stupid, and then there’s plain self-destructive.

Thancred doesn’t let himself acknowledge the twisted, stricken little piece of him that had hoped she would notice. The guilt-ridden splinter that had all but prayed for her to turn and catch him in the act and then... he doesn’t even know what.

But Gwen hadn’t seen him. 

She had been looking the other way, and had no idea he’d slipped her journal into his pocket. With the hand she’d just mended, no less, because sometimes shame is his bedmate and sometimes it’s a person in a faraway land that he’s never met. 

Then Gwen had taken the aetheryte to Mord Souq, none the wiser, and left him standing dumbly in his room with his thoughts in pieces and his brief surge of self-righteousness and indignation sputtering to nothing, her journal weighing down his pocket like a stone.

The following two days had been... long. Reading her journal had only made them longer.

When Gwen finally returned she’d been nearly frantic, so preoccupied with finding her ‘lost’ journal she’d all but forgotten about their fight. He regretted both being the cause of such strife and allowing it to fester, but her desperate searching had eased his fears that she might be suspicious of him.

When they’d finally talked about their fight, calmly and rationally, and smoothed things over, he’d made sure they were out in public, in an open space where she wouldn’t feel cornered or trapped. He’d been careful to maintain a respectful distance and give her plenty of space while they searched for her journal and spoke. Which she found odd. But he just couldn’t shake the way she’d looked at him for that one brief moment...

Between their conversation and how relieved she had been to find her journal in her room, right where he’d put it, Thancred had thought that whole thing was behind them.

But now Gwen is asking, too coincidentally, about trust.

Cool nausea collects in his gut like bits of broken glass. 

Has she known this whole time? Was all that hubbub about combing the streets just an act? 

No, Gwen isn’t that good of an actress. She just isn’t. Her worry, the way she’d been combing the street, that had to have been ge-- 

“Does everyone else?” Gwen’s voice is soft, and the tinge of self-conciousness and something shaped far too much like doubt snatch his attention.

Thancred’s line of thought turns and redirects too suddenly, fumbling for a moment and then coming apart entirely. He opens his mouth to reply but his jaw merely hangs, almost slack, “I…” 

Does everyone else...what?

Do you trust me?

Does everyone else?

This… None of this has anything to do with her journal, or their fight.

The pieces of glass, the creeping sickness and the twisting worry vanish so quickly it leaves him lightheaded, and the surge of relief that follows hits him so hard it nearly takes him off his feet.

It takes Thancred a moment to clear his head and get his mind working again. “Off the top of my head I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t trust you,” he says less than gracefully, “especially amongst our friends.”

Gwen regards him firmly, holding his gaze like she’s looking for even the faintest hint that he’s lying for her sake.

He isn't. But, thanks to his panic moments ago, the scrutiny still makes him uneasy. He does his best to be as outwardly honest and unassuming as his answer.

Her hard look fades after a moment, softening into something apologetic before she tucks herself more snugly against his side. I believe you. Sorry, I...just wanted to make sure.

Seeing how she probably won’t offer an explanation on her own, Thancred prompts, “So. What’s this all of a sudden?”

Gwen’s expression draws inward and she shifts her fingers against the back of his hand, creating and smoothing out wrinkles in his glove in place of tugging loose threads or twisting rings. “The other day, while we were in Slitherbough I,” she pauses, lips shifting slowly across words she doesn’t say before she finally finds the right one, “overheard something.” She pauses for a beat, “Do you remember what Y’shtola said? When she first saw me?”

Thancred thinks that’s a rather abrupt change of topic, but doesn’t say so. It will be regrettably hard to forget Y’shtola staring at Gwen and proclaiming, with perfect confidence, that she was a sin eater. “There is but one manner of creature in this world whose aether is suffused with such an abundance of light.” 

He’s hardly surprised to learn the accusation is proving difficult to simply shrug off. 

“I remember she was mistaken,” Thancred says, trying to reassure but at a loss as to where this line of questions is leading. “It’s been years since she last laid eyes on you,” he nudges her temple with his chin and pins on a smile, “t’would seem she forgot your natural brilliance.”

Gwen’s mouth twitches with the faintest smile that’s gone as quickly as it came, her eyes still on his hand while her own are still busy wrinkling and smoothing his glove.

He lets the smile drop. The back of his hand is getting a little sensitive with all of the touching, but he doesn’t mention it.

So. It seems Y’shtola really hit a nerve. But what does that have to do with trust?

“Talk to me, dove,” Thancred mumbles, lifting his hand from her waist to rub her upper arm. “I can’t read your mind. I can’t know what you don’t tell me.” 

Not entirely true, but…

Gwen draws a few purposefully slow breaths, trying to calm herself. Instead, her shoulders only seem to tense further under his arm. 

“When,” she starts slowly, “when the Eulmorans...” She stops again, brows knitting, and abandons her attempts in favor of more time considering her words.

He thinks while he waits, trying to figure out where these questions could have started and where they might lead.

Their days in Rak’tika have been so hectic and felt so long that Thancred can scarcely keep track of everything that has happened. He can’t recall anything, specifically, happening in Slitherbough? Except for the Eulmoran’s arrival... which eventually led to several long, grief-stricken bells of thinking Y’shtola had been lost to them.

Gwen surely spent every second of it blaming herself, convinced she’d stood by and done nothing as her friend perished. He knows that feeling well, and he doesn’t envy it.

Does that have anything to do with trust? No one blames her, though surely she’s blaming herself. She says she overheard something...perhaps a traitor among the Blessed, or some clue she hadn’t realized the importance of?

Or does it perhaps have something to do with what the others think of Y’shtola’s accusation? Is she worried they might question or distrust her after being branded a sin eater that’s ‘suffused with light’?

Possibly... But nothing hits Gwen harder than loss. 

He takes a chance. “If it has anything to do with Ran’jit or Y’shtola’s second foray in the lifestream...”

Gwen shakes her head and squeezes his hand.

He swallows the assurances that are waiting on his tongue.

Five years ago he would have been able to piece together what was bothering her and where she was headed with all this.

Five years ago they didn’t yell at one another, nor was she so unsure of his faith in her that she resorted to bluntly asking about it.

Gods damnit...

“...Her accusation, then?” Thancred tries, slightly desperately.

Gwen tenses and then huffs, making a frustrated sound of agreement under her breath.

Something distantly related to satisfaction and accomplishment sparks in his chest. He waits for her to elaborate, secure in the knowledge she wasn’t quite so foreign to him as he’d feared.

“Before the Eulmorans came to Slitherbough, I,” she stumbles in the same place again, and her voice loses a bit of volume when she continues, “I overheard Y’shtola talking to Urianger.”

Thancred resumes rubbing her shoulder, trying to reassure. “What about?”

Her mouth crumples with a grimace. “I’m not sure how long they were talking, or how much I missed, but…” 

She tells him what she heard.

By the end Thancred is wearing the stony scowl he’s developed over his five years on the First, dry bitterness curling on his tongue and in his throat. He stares at the ground in the pen, mulling over her recounting of the conversation. 

He states flatly, “So Urianger’s keeping secrets again.”

Gwen has withdrawn a bit, folding her arms against her chest. “We’re killing another Light warden tomorrow,” she says, rather grimly, “and neither of them have said a word about the Light.”

Indeed they haven’t. But...

While Thancred understands Gwen’s concerns and sympathizes with her frustration for being left out of the loop, his shrewder, more pragmatic side is muttering: what good will telling you do? 

After all, Gwen is the only one who can slay Light wardens safely. Or relatively safely, perhaps. She’s the only one who can bring darkness and night back to the First. She’s their only option. She knows this.

She, and the Scions, already knew the undertaking would be dangerous, though precisely how dangerous had always been rather nebulous, and forged ahead anyway. 

Knowing the specifics --if anything Gwen overheard could be called ‘specific’-- changes nothing. It wouldn’t change the fact that she's the only one who can fight and slay Light wardens. It wouldn’t affect this ‘nascent corruption’ that she, apparently, was unaware of before Y’shtola beheld her aether. It wouldn’t change the fact that they have no way to rid her of the Light she’s already taken in, and no way to prevent her from absorbing more short of stopping their battle against the Light. And they all know that isn't an option. 

If she hadn’t overheard them nothing would be different, would it? She would be in much the same position as she is now, only without the additional stress of how potentially dire her situation is, and without the troubling awareness that they had no solutions. 

Is the burden of questions without answers, without recourse, honestly better than simple ignorance?

...But shouldn’t that be her choice to make? It’s her life, after all. Shouldn’t she be the one who gets to make decisions about it? 

 She’s the one with the Blessing, and the one absorbing the Light. She’s the one putting herself at risk. Shouldn’t she know the toll it’s taking on her, and the very real risks and potential consequences? Doesn’t she, at the very least, deserve to be aware of what’s happening to her?

He can see both sides, to say the least.

Gwen has the Blessing. She can contain the Light. That’s what the Exarch said... But the Exarch doesn’t have Y’shtola’s Sight, he can’t see what she does. Not to mention his fondness for secrets and schemes...

Thancred looks Gwen over, examining her skin, her hair, her hands, and doesn’t find anything out of the ordinary...for whatever that’s worth.

The complication of emotions moving across her face, all of them sharp and aching, gives him pause. Concern weighs on the corners of his mouth and starts pushing his brow together.

Logic doesn’t change the fact that one of her friends is aware of what’s happening to her and hasn’t uttered so much as a word of caution about it. It doesn’t change the fact that Urianger probably has no intention of telling her anything until the very last moment, just as he had in the Bowl of Embers.

Gwen presses her lips together like she’s struggling to keep her thoughts behind her teeth. She shifts away from him, thrusting her hands down by her sides, and a moment later she relents and exclaims, voice aching with exasperation, “Why didn’t he tell me? Why hasn’t he said anything?”

Thancred blinks dumbly, the sudden outburst and surge of emotion leaving him stunned.

“Why can’t he just tell me the truth?” Her tone turns sharper, angrier, “The truth wouldn’t stop me. It can’t. I know I have keep going no matter what, I just…!”

‘Keep going no matter what’ clings like tar, stirring unpleasant memories of a time in Ishgard the whole of Eorzea had made her feel more like a tool and a weapon, a means to an end, than a person.

Thancred lifts a placating hand. “Gwen--” 

“I’m the only one who can kill Light wardens, I’m the only one who can do anything about the Light,” Gwen flings a hand upwards to indicate the sky, “I know I can’t just stop. And I know that if-- I know it-- I know telling me about the corruption would just give me one more thing to worry about but-- This is-- It’s happening to me! Don’t I deserve to know? I’m the one that’s--  I’m the one absorbing the Light, I’m the one who-- the one that might--” 

Her breath hitches and she stiffens. “Should I know that I’m in danger? Shouldn’t I, of all people, know what the Light could-- what it is doing to me? Urianger and the Exarch haven’t said anything. Even Y’shtola. She only let it slip because she didn’t recognize me.” 

Her expression twists, threatening to crumple, “She didn’t recognize me. She looked straight at me and called me a sin eater.” 

Thancred watches her catch her breath in silence, protective agitation making a prickly trail through his thoughts. Urianger’s motives may be well-intentioned, even noble, but… Gwen has a point.

Her shoulders start to slump as her breaths slow, and his expression tightens with a sympathetic grimace. He’s never been able to say the right thing when it mattered, and now seems to be no exception. Gods, he hates nothing more than feeling useless.

Gwen shakes her head slowly, and her tone is so resigned and heavy it makes his chest hurt. “I mean, alright, maybe I… Maybe it was naive of me to think I could just,” she gestures listlessly, “absorb the Light without consequences. To assume I’d be fine and not think any more about it, but I… I thought if something started to go wrong, or if one of my friends noticed something or-- or thought something might be happening to me, I-- I thought,” her expression strains and then crumbles in defeat, “I thought someone would say something, not just… stand by and leave me in the dark.” 

Thancred’s throat tightens, sharp with anger and thick with sympathy, and his heart clenches alongside his fists. He’s still groping for words and finding none, but given the tumult of protective anger building in his head, that’s probably for the best.

Glistening dark green eyes look at him pleadingly, vulnerable and full of hurt and doubt that cuts like a knife. “Is it really so hard to be honest with me? To tell me the truth? Am I really so hard to trust?”

His anger shatters like glass and Thancred pulls her into a tight embrace, both to keep him from storming to the bunk he’s sharing with the atsrologian --for all of their sakes-- and needing the pressure of it to keep his heart from cracking. “It’s not you dove,” he says as firmly and calmly as he’s able. “You’ve done nothing wrong. He just…” Thancred grimaces as her arms slide around him, recognizing the insubstantiality of it before he says it, “He’s trying to do the right thing.”

She tenses and inhales like she intends to speak. 

Thancred has suffered more keenly than most from Urianger’s secrecy and efforts to do what he thought was right, pragmatic and otherwise, for his friends and Eorzea. He empathizes with Gwen’s frustration and feels a little pang of pity for their loquacious friend. Urianger is good at keeping secrets, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for him. “I’m not saying he’s right to keep his secrets, Twelve knows I, of all people, have suffered the bad end of them, but his secrecy has naught to do with you, nor anything you have or haven’t done. He trusts you, Gwen. We all do.”

Gwen is still for a long moment, perhaps weighing his words. She exhales, slowly, and relaxes against him. 

Thancred eases his hold a little, getting on top of the tide in his head and breathing a little more steadily, “I’m sure Urianger has his reasons. Keeping secrets is a suffering all its own, and he isn’t wont to do such unless he thinks it utterly necessary.” He lets out a thin, frustrated groan, “I’m sure intentions are good, that he only wishes to help, but that doesn’t mean his methods aren’t flawed. He keeps his secrets so as not to burden us, or you, with them. He wishes to spare us what he can, as do we all. If any of us could lessen the burden that you, especially, have been made to carry, you know we would.”

He bites off ‘don’t you?’, because his doubts aren’t her problem.

Gwen’s arms tighten around him, and she takes a long breath. “I know.” He didn’t ask, but she assures him anyway. She shifts her arms, and he feels her curl her fingers in his coat. "What about...” She sighs, “What do you make of what Y’shtola said?”

Apparently she doesn’t have the energy to go on another rant, which is actually something of a relief. It wasn’t like her to lose her composure so suddenly, or explosively. 

Thancred can speak about as much for Y’shtola as he could Urianger, though there’s that biting remark she’d made in front of Minfilia that threatens to color his words. He closes his eyes, exhales, and pushes it aside in favor of a more even answer. “I think she has her own concerns and she will make them known to you soon enough, as the two of you are alike in your disdain for secrecy. But, if you’re referring to her comment about your aether…” Thancred shifts his weight, temporizing. He knew this question was coming and he still hasn’t quite worked out a good answer. “I think she isn’t wrong to be concerned. And I think she was right to seek a second opinion and confirm her suspicions rather than coming straight to you with theories and conjecture. But I know for certain that, should something become of this light you’re carrying, she will not hesitate to intervene. Neither will I, nor Alphinaud, Alisaie, Minfilia or Urianger. You’re not alone, dove.”

Gwen noticeably relaxes, her hands easing against his back. That was what she’d wanted to hear. He likes to think the little pet name helped.

Thancred remembers all the times she’s written, and the few instances she’s said, that she feels as though no one remembers that she’s just a person beneath her title. One person who needs to lean on others every now and then, because the world is a terrible weight to carry. 

He lifts a hand to her face and tilts her head up, finding her significantly calmer and steadier between his words and their embrace, though tentative unease still lingers behind her eyes. “You’re strong, Gwen, but I know you have your limits. If ever you falter, know that I’m here to steady you. I will not stand idly by while you suffer the light alone. I’m with you, dove.”

I will not stand idly by and let you become a sin eater. Thancred doesn’t say that part even though it’s true, as it’s far too harsh, too fatalistic, too prudent, and it would dampen her mood more than lift it. 

He’s told himself. That’s enough.

Gwen’s expression brightens, softens and warms with something too tender and meaningful to be mere fondness, something he’s gone without since he arrived on the First. One corner of her mouth lifts in a smile and he mimics her, keeping the little burst of soft, almost-heady feelings to himself.

He leans down and she lifts to meet him, whispering against his lips, “Thank you.”

-----------------------

GUH DOWN TO THE WIRE, I LITERALLY SUBMITTED IT AT 3 I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A CHANCE TO WRITE A NOTE AT FIRST BECAUSE I WAS FREAKING OUT BECAUSE I WAS ALMOST LATE ALDJSKFLADK-- *passes out*

came in with to neaten up this note section and stuff the next day now that I’m not losing my shit...

Thanks @rhymingteelookatme for the suggestions!!

I like some parts of this more than others, but overall it’s pretty good!! I spent way, waaay too much time rewriting one particular part over and over and cutting it down again and again, but I like the version that ended up in here. The ending is ruuuushed XD but on rereading it’s not quite so bad as I thought

Jaculus are what they call griffins on the First. They look the exact same. Just FYI

[gwen-writes-stuff]

Damn Shirt | Tom Holland imagine

Imagine : You and Tom coincidentally wear the same clothes.

Word count : 3280

Y/N's POV

I was digging in my closet to try and find an appropriate attire for a walk around the city. I've been away for months, Filming for Spider-Man: Homecoming so I figured that for my first day off work I'd take a lovely stroll around Los Angeles.

It's not really exciting or eventful but the aim is to relax after the many days I was working non-stop.

After what felt like an hour, I spotted a black graphic t-shirt and I don't remember having it, I grabbed it by the hanger and held it up to scan.

Satisfied I threw it on the bed to fish for my favorite pair of jeans.

In the end, I had the small section on the middle part of the shirt tucked in my favorite white jeans while the rest perform like a normal shirt should and got lazy so I topped it all off with a high-cut converse.

As boring as my fashion taste sounds like right now, I clean up nicely during premieres and formal events.

I texted my sister where I'll be meeting her and I grabbed a random sunglasses running out my house to wave my cat goodbye.

I decided against driving because I actually wanted to walk, My sister_____ wanted to shop and I gladly accepted the invite. The Starbucks I asked her to meet is just a few blocks away anyway.

While crossing the street I didn't fail to notice a number of Paparazzis lurking, I sighed, They could at least try bring subtle about it.

As much as I love the fans, fame and love for acting I didn't appreciate the invasion of privacy. I can't do anything about it because I had this coming.

A few more streets crossed and I'm inside the Starbucks where my sister greeted me with a hug, I chuckled hugging her back.

"Missed me much?" She rolled her eyes but shortly nodded. I raised a brow at her when she brought the straw of her drink to her lips. "You know what I always get."

She giggled and handed me my drink she hid god-knows-where. "So how was it?" We sat inside for a while to try and catch up. I jusst get back last night.

"Eventful. I knew taking the role of Spider-Gwen was gonna be a pain but the stunts I pulled off..." I trailed off to groan indicating I had a hard time and she smiled at that.

"Knowing you, You slayed that!" I mockingly posed like a superhero and I got a few looks from the people around.

"Well I didn't get fired." I shrugged and took a sip of my (Fave Starbucks drink) and almost choked from the following words that left my dear sister's mouth.

"So how is it working with Tom Holland then?" I blushed and I could tell just by how my cheeks instantly heat up and _____ wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Ever since I saw him as Peter in Civil War my crush on him wasn't a secret to _____ and it was sheer luck that I got the part of his love interest.

"He was sweet. Very professional." I gave her the bullshit I'll probably give the interviewers and she obviously wanted more than such a plain answer when she rolled her eyes.

"Any kissing scene?" I snorted and almost had my drink coming out of my nose and I instinctively slapped her hand that rested on the table and she was a laughing mess.

"____!" I picked up my sunglasses and wore it, "Let's just go shopping." That was what we planned afterall and she gave me a suspicious look.

I didn't answer her question and I bet she already know that there is. I did afterall play his love interest.

We went to different shops just chatting about the most random of things and Tom didn't come up anymore.

I thought I was over that part of shooting but ____ had to go and remind me, I wasn't able to sleep for a week after shooting that scene.

We had about twelve takes because he was doing the iconic hanging upside down and we were a laughing mess. Five times, He almost fell off and I was the one to steady him.

I unknowingly shook my head to try and rid myself of the memory, reminding myself that I'm professional and was snapped out of thoughts when ____ poked my side.

"Damn Paparazzis." She whispered and I glanced down at our shopping bags and I barely have space on my hand.

"Isn't this enough?" She shook her head to point out that we also had to do a back to school shopping and I complained about how far it is.

But that didn't stop her from dragging me into three more stores and I ended up going back home with sore hands but I was happy. I was told to rest by my manager but I missed ____ and shopping was our way to bond.

When I reached the comfort of my home I flopped myself on the bed and let my cat walk all over me til she settled on sleeping on my back.

I rolled my eyes at the inconvenience she just put me through, Sleeping on my back, She's lucky I love her.

My phone that I left on my nightstand to have no distractions for the day just buzzed and I groaned. Reaching for it without interrupting my Cat who very annoyingly got comfortable on my back.

I opened it to see that I got fifty missed calls from my manager and immediately shot up, My cat landed on the floor with a very nasty meow and I sent an apologetic smile her way.

Rascal just hissed at me and I turned back to my phone, What is it this time?

It must be this important if I have fifty missed calls from my freaking manager so I called her back instantly hoping for the best but getting myself ready for the worst.

I haven't had a scandal. Ever. Since the beginning of my career I have actively avoided drama in the industry so I'm beyond terrified.

"Y/N? Where have you been? You haven't been answering my calls!" My very angry manager yelled through the phone and I had to pull the phone away from my ears for a moment.

"I went shopping with ____ and I know, I just got home and I left my phone. Sorry?" I replied quietly that I doubt it even reached the other end of the call.

I heard a very loud sigh and I braced myself for the news, "Are you dating Tom?" I was frozen from kneeling down on my bed.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh because that is ridiculous and how much would I be paying Tom to be my boyfriend? Cry because it's a slap to the face that I would laugh at how impossible it is to be with my crush.

"Y/N are you there?" I was pulled back to reality, I coughed to get rid of the forming lump in my throat and shook my head but I realised that I'm on the phone.

"No, Why would you ask that?" Fifty missed calls? What could I have possibly done to be linked to Tom when I was yet to do interviews with him?

I have a week to myself before interviews start and I already have this question from my manager?

"I'm sending you the links." With that she ended the call and I shakily scrolled to see my feed on twitter.

I didn't need to check the links (Manager's name) sent when I already know what the issue is.

Y/N L/N and Tom Holland dating?!

Actors starring in the upcoming Marvel film Spider-Man : Homecoming, L/N and Holland, Dating?

Those are just two of the many article title that have blurred my vision, I haven't seen Tom since the last shooting so why would people assume this?

I clicked one link and I could feel my cat snuggle into my lap as I read the article with shaking vision, I was too nervous.

Y/N L/N was spotted shopping with her sister _____ wearing a very familiar Black T-shirt that fans pointed out to be exactly like the actor Tom Holland's just this morning (Random date).

Pictures of her walking out of Starbucks were all over the internet when one fan pointed out that Tom Holland wore the same shirt months ago (Random date again lol) and alot more agreed.

This lead to fans believing that the shirt was originally Tom's and he had given Y/N the shirt when they started dating, Their relationship is not confirmed to be official but fans are expecting to hear the truth from the two young actors.

At the very end is a picture of me walking out of Starbucks and next to it is a picture of Tom crossing the road. I squint my eyes to see that our shirts did look exactly alike and how unfortunate it is that I just pulled that very shirt out my closet out of boredom this afternoon.

This is utterly ridiculous.

Before I could sleep the stress off I saw a highlighted notification, Tom tweeted me.

One of the many articles is attached and I braced myself for embarassment and cringe.

@ TomHolland1996 tweeted :

@Y/Nofficial Now you gotta give me my shirt back 😉😂

With that tweet he's not making any of this any better! I groaned in frustration and dropped on the bed face first, Glad my cat left knowing she was being ignored and I drifted into sleep thinking about the drama waiting.

***

It's been a week and interviews with Tom are coming up, We had a few with other cast members like Zendaya but the first one I'll be having is with Tom and questions about the shirt will surely come up.

My stupid ass forgot that shirt is actually Tom's.

I don't really remember the events following how the shirt ended up in my closet but it was really his.

How'd I know? I called him the next morning asking about that tweet.

The week went smooth, I went to the beach and a road trip with _____ to Vegas. The rumours about Tom and I dating still hasn't died down.

I suggested we go apart to lessen the assumption but he insisted we shouldn't let the issue affect our friendship which lead me to think.

Are Tom and I friends? Because Homecoming was the first time we worked together and I doubt he even knew of my existence before then.

We worked together, Got acquainted fast and got along...sort of but I wouldn't really call us friends. He was always closer to Zendaya who he always hang out with in between breaks and he was best friends with Jacob who he always talked to and we only ever made small talks.

He seemed to be so uninterested in me that I found it awkward to kiss him on camera when I felt like he didn't want me around but it was as if something changed and we were fooling around and teasing like good friends that after twelve takes, We got the job done.

As of now I'm in a dressing room watching Carla, my stylist fix my hair. I didn't want my make-up to be too much since I wasn't feeling too extra so I did it myself.

When it was finally time for the interview I was greeted by Tom who said an inaudible 'Hi' which I replied with a small smile.

“Y/N, Tom, It's nice to have you here.” The female interviewer chirped as we took our seats and I laid back with legs crossed, My hand rested on my thighs.

“Thank you.” I replied with a polite smile, “Pleasure's ours.” Tom added as she shook hands with us.

“Well you can call me Maddie. So let's start?” Maddie asked and we nodded, I turned to look at Tom who also turned to look at me with an innocent smile.

“So Y/N, We know that Tom has a background in Dance and Gymnastics but you don't?” I shook my head stealing a glance at Tom because I can feel the weight of his stare and it's honestly making me uncomfortable.

Not because he makes me uncomfortable, god no, But because of my stupid crush.

“I don't, I do dance around the house and in the shower.” I joked and Maddie let out a soft chuckle. I can dance really well if I actually tried but gymnastics? Nope!

“So how was your stunts? You had no background whatsoever, How did you do it?” Despite having not learned fighting or gymnastics I still insisted on doing my own stunts which surprised many, Even myself.

I went through alot of training and hardwork to even come close to an average performance, I shifted in my seat.

“Well, I may be no gymnast but my ballet days did a huge part. That, Along with practice and just determination to learn.” Satisfied with my answer Maddie looked down at her cards.

“Tom. This one's for you.” I fought the urge to turn to Tom and kept my eyes on Maddie as she spoke while looking down at her cards because I didn't wanna look at Tom.

Why? I am a hundred percent sure that I would be way too distracted by how perfect his hair looks and how pretty his eyes are.

But thinking about being distracted, distracted me anyways that the next question is directed to me that I didn't even notice Tom already answered his.

“What was the hardest part in playing Gwen?” I silently thanked God that none of the questions directed at me so far are about my body or diet.

“I think it's the stunts. Everything else is a breeze but the stunts man!” I answered and the three of us erupted into laughter.

“Back to Tom, How was it working with Y/N?” This time I instinctively turned and instantly regretted it when our eyes met and locked.

He leaned towards his left side to get a better look at me and my insides screamed. “She's...amazing.” He said almost out of breath and I could only pray to God that I'm not blushing right now.

I saw Maddie in the corner of my eyes raise her brow suggestively, Leaning forward to not miss a potential tea-spilling as I'd like to call it.

“She makes it easy, She's very professional and a really great actress. Sometimes I don't even feel like I'm acting anymore, You know?” His cute accent trailing behind every word as I listen to my heart race. But he plays as my boyfriend?

“So what is the funniest thing that happened on set?” Maddie asked directed to the both of us and I almost jumped at my seat from excitement.

“The kissing scene.” Tom with a dropped jaw looked at me as if I spoiled something but that's his job. Must've wanted that memory kept a secret.

“Do tell.” Maddie replied with a small smirk on her features that I failed to notice because I was too busy recalling the events.

“We had to take twelve takes.” Tom spoke up stifling a laugh. He was shaking his head with a toothy grin.

“I don't even remember why we were laughing but before our lips could even meet we would burst out laughing like idiots.” I added laughing at the end of my sentence and so did Maddie imagining how ridiculous we Must've looked like.

The interview went on well and Maddie was really nice but I knew the inevitable was coming so when she said we were off to the last one, I shifted again in my seat. Nonchalantly moving an inch away from Tom and pretended to ignore the small frown he gave me when he noticed.

“So this might be a little hot of an issue but you were spotted wearing his shirt, Right?” Maddie asked me gesturing her hand to Tom and I nodded. “How did that happen?”

I raised a hand like a schoolgirl to indicate I wanted to go first. “I didn't know it was his–I mean I did but I didn't remember. I was just digging through my closet and went ‘Oh that shirt looks cool’ so I went ahead and wore it.” I turned to Tom, “How did that get in my closet, Tom?”

I asked with a slight tease and a cheeky grin but I didn't expect him to look serious, He coughed and clasped his hands together. “Funny story actually.” He began.

“We were shooting this one scene in the night and it was really cold but when we were wrapping up I found this woman sitting alone in the corner hugging herself.” I would've grabbed a jacket but I was too cold I found it hard to move and my manager and assistant were talking to the staffs.

“So I ran to search my bag for anything, A jacket but I saw the shirt and I remember it being warm and I was afraid she would've froze by the time I find a jacket so I gave it to her.” I remember now, Just how my heart skipped a beat when I looked up to see who owned the extended hand.

Tom with his pretty face illuminated by the moonlight, His damn boyish grin. If I wasn't sitting down I would've dropped on the floor because my knees turned jelly.

“So you two are not dating?” Maddie asked and I couldn't answer, It hurts to say no and I wondered if it's still just a silly crush if it's hurting me.

I figured I'd let Tom answer but even he just stared at me so I raised a brow at him. Maddie cleared her throat but our eye contact didn't break.

“Are you two dating?” Maddie repeated herself changing thd question slightly and I can hear hope lacing in her voice but I shook my head still looking at Tom.

“Unfortunately not.” Tom replied and my jaw dropped at that, What did he just say? “But if miss L/N would be kind enough to go on a date with me then there would be a big possibility.” I was lost for words.

Is he serious or just stoking the flame of this hot rumour? Tom wouldn't do that just to gain more attention but he couldn't be serious about wanting to go on a date with me?

“I — I'm sorry, What?” Maddie was making inhuman noises of joy while I look at Tom with wide eyes and he only flashed me the same boyish grin.

“Is that a yes?” I couldn't form a word so I nodded slowly while Maddie clap and Tom look away briefly, Jesus, Is he blushing?

My manager is going to kill me.

Breaking News ! Spider-Man : Homecoming actor, Tom Holland just asked co-star Y/N L/N on a date during an interview.

Watch the interview here!

well this was long as fuck. I didn't really know how to start and end this because I just have this one stupid idea of you and Tom coincidentally wearing the same shirt and people going crazy about it so forgive how shitty this is.

PS : I take requests~

[fresh-outta-jams]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Part 9

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: You’re in college when your soulmate tattoo arrives, an address. Sending a letter couldn’t hurt, right? Note: Super sorry it’s been so long since my last update. Morgan and Morgan and I just got settled back into school with our new classes and everything, so I should have more time now that I have everything figured out. Warnings: Some swearing, soulmate fluff Word Count: 1.8k

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Epilogue

Your new film classes were kicking your ass. Most of them were three hours long, so one of your greatest challenges in them was not falling asleep at eight in the morning or late at night. Your...distractions the previous semester had prevented you from signing up for your classes on time and therefore, you had the worst schedule on the face of the planet. You woke up too early, got home too late, and barely had time for naps in the middle. However, you did have a window for talking to Namjoon, which was about all you could ask for.

Somehow, it seemed like he got hotter every single day. You more than dreamed about him now; his face floated around your thoughts during your classes, his voice filtered through your earbuds as you walked around the snowy campus. It definitely soothed your pain at least a little bit, that and getting to see your face every time you unlocked your phone or got a call from him. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled breathed the life back into the very drained half of your shared soul.

“Baby.” Namjoon waved his hand to snag your attention. Your mind had been wandering again. “You okay? You seem sort of distracted today.”

“I’m fine, Joon. Exhausted, but fine. What were you saying?”

“I asked you how our Sims are doing.”

You burst out laughing. When you had talked to him a few weeks prior, you’d made the mistake of mentioning the Sims game you’d been plugging away at, creating a perfect little life with your soulmate. Luckily for you, there were several talented Simmers who had uploaded their own Namjoons to the Gallery, so you could just download one that looked pretty close to the real thing. (Even closer with a dimple mod.)

“Joon is a scientist now.”

“A scientist? I thought he was an actor.”

“Well, he was, but I want to try to contact the aliens.”

“Ah. Understood. How are our kids?”

“They’re doing great. Added some new rooms on the house, got them a bigger TV, and I’m thinking about putting in a pool, but considering that they’re vampires, maybe that’s not the best idea…”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head at the absurdity of the little world you had crafted. “Yeah, maybe not, then.”

“Oh!” You blurted, sitting up straighter as you remembered what had been on your mind. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

Immediately, his eyes widened and his face reddened. Whatever this was, he had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. But then again, he couldn’t remember doing anything that would upset you. “U-um, jagi-”

“Uh-uh, don’t you ‘um, jagi’ me. You have no right. You have NO RIGHT...to go around looking this fine, what the hell, Namjoon. Your hair? So fine. Your face? SO FINE. How am I supposed to keep the girls off of you at this rate?”

“Jeez, you scared me. I thought something was wrong.”

“Also, don’t think I don’t see you lurking on my Twitter, you creep.” You laughed, causing his face to flush an even deeper red. “I have like twenty followers total, so someone with the username ‘rm_fan_94’ is going to raise some eyebrows.”

“Is it my fault you ReTweet all of the BTS Tweets gushing about how handsome you think I am? Sometimes a guy needs a little confidence boost from his beautiful girlfriend.”

That was new. You couldn’t remember him ever using THAT word before…

“Did I say something wrong?”

“N-no, you just, uh, caught me off-guard is all.” You coughed, cheeks burning probably the brightest red they’d ever glowed before. “Can I get that one more time?”

“What, ‘girlfriend’?” Namjoon smirked softly, his dimples prominent. “Well, that is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You exhaled a sigh, something warm settling over your heart. “God, I really am, aren’t I?

“Shit, I never asked, did I? That’s a thing in the states, right? I’m supposed to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

“Well, I mean sometimes that’s how it goes, but not always.”

“(Y/N),” he suddenly got very mock-serious, “will you be my girlfriend?”

“Let me think about it.” You laughed. He pretended to wait with bated breath as you ‘thought about’ your answer to his very important world-changing question. “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Awesome.” He smiled. Namjoon was about to say something else before he was interrupted by someone walking into his and Tae’s room.

“Namjoon-ah, breakfast.” You recognized Hoseok’s voice as he entered, his face lighting up when he caught sight of what their fearless leader was doing. “(Y/N)!!”

“Hi Hobi!” You waved excitedly, hyped to finally meet him after watching him in videos for so long. “Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too!”

“I’ll be out in a sec, alright?” Namjoon told him in Korean. Hoseok nodded and then waved one last time before leaving the way he came. He looked back at you and sighed, torn. Obviously, they were all really busy working on their next comeback, even though they were still coming back down to earth after the Christmas/New Year’s Eve rush. You knew time was tight, but you always ached when it was time to say goodbye. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You blew him a kiss, and then he was gone, leaving you waiting for the next time you would get to see his beautiful face.

***

“Dear Namjoon,

I read your book. Cover to cover. Well, I guess because it was in digital format, from the top of the Doc to the bottom of it. And let me just say I am blown away. I’ve known you’re a good writer. You write the best letters ever, and also you literally write lyrics for a living, so obviously you’re good, but this was so much different than any of your songs in the best possible way. There’s so much character, so many heartfelt moments, but it’s also funny and lighthearted and then it tugs at your heartstrings. I ended up crying three times while I read it.

That said, there were a few phrasing things I noticed, and a few typos, but I think you’re way more fluent than you realize. I usually end up with waaaaay more mistakes in my NaNo books than you have in yours. I marked the ones I caught in pink and left some comments.

These new classes are killing me. My film analysis is boring and we have a pretty heavy workload. Not to mention it’s like three hours long. Draining isn’t the word. However, it’s not all bad. I still go to the K-Pop club and learn new things about you and the guys from all of my K-Pop-loving friends. One of them got me a Koya sleep mask for Christmas! They all know I’m super whipped for you (but they don’t know why, no worries!).

Did I tell you I have Moonchild set to my wake up alarm? Ironic, I know, but it’s my favorite song on Mono. You probably know that. I probably told you that. I don’t remember. I’ve kind of had a lot on my mind recently. I’m seriously counting down the days to spring break. My brain hurts so much, but hearing your voice and talking to you and looking at your face makes it a little bit better.

I love you so much,

-(Y/N)”

*** Namjoon had a plan. Granted, it wasn’t a very solid plan; he didn’t have all of the details worked out, nor anything scheduled, nor had he even asked permission yet. But, it was a plan no less.

Over the past few weeks, in your ongoing letter correspondence back and forth to each other, Namjoon had been collecting details, thinking through logistics, and going around to the camera crew and asking them some questions figuring that they of all people would have the answers to them. And for the most part, they did, and they were all very friendly and nice to talk to. Based on the conversations he’d had with them, it seemed like Part 1 of his plan would work out just fine. That left him to figure out parts 2 and 3.

Part 2, he figured, would be the second-easiest thing to accomplish. Actually, maybe the easiest, considering that Part 1 had required some digging and research. Whereas with Part 2, it was only the idea of it that was scaring him. In theory, actually pulling through with it would be easy.

So, once he had scraped together as much courage as he could manage, he went to the office of none other than Hitman Bang and knocked on the door.

***

“Dear (Y/N),

I’m sorry to hear your classes are so rough. I wish I could make it better. Thinking about you in pain pulls at my heartstrings in more ways than one. I really, really wish I could be there to comfort you somehow, but even then, I don’t think I would know how to fix the problem aside from supporting you and encouraging you to keep going because you’re almost there. Just a little longer and it’ll all be worth it.

As for my book...I’m super, super glad you liked it. Part of me was really afraid it maybe wasn’t as good as I hoped it was. We all have a tendency to look down on our own work, I guess, and sometimes we’re blind to our own mistakes. Thank you for helping out with mine, though. It means so, so much to me that you took the time out of your busy schedule to look over it and give me feedback. I’m also very sorry I made you cry. Thinking about that hurts me inside too.

I’m glad you’re having fun in your K-Pop club and making new friends and learning things! Just know that if you ever want to know ANYTHING, I would be more than happy to tell you anything you want to know. Also, I’m really sorry you have to keep me a secret, at least for know. Just know it won’t be a secret forever. Someday, you won’t have to hide who I am. I just hope that ‘someday’ comes sooner than it seems to be coming.

You definitely did not tell me Moonchild is your wake up alarm. God, you don’t know how happy that makes me. I’m glad you like it so much. Again, I’m so sorry this semester has been rough on you so far. And I’m sorry I couldn’t kiss you on New Year’s Eve. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you on Christmas morning. I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry we’re so far away from each other. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to get to you. I promise I will soon, though. As soon as I possibly can. Every minute I’m without you burns, and I know you feel it too.

I love you to the moon and back,

-Namjoon”

Tagged:  @iie-wakarimasen, @ffantasylandd, @jooniefluff, @chimchimsauce, @mrs-saeyoung-choi, @theprinceoftheundead, @angyexoxo, @copenhagenspirit, @lovelylittlekittn, @lilgaga98, @iminlovewjjk, @feed-my-geek-soul, @loveandwitch, @recoveringflowerchild, @demonic-meatball, @maddieisaacs, @scissorsandtonfas, @carirosesg, @backtonormalthings, @local-mochi, @faliwi, @spoopyela, @nanie5, @ingenu--e, @undiscovered1personality, @andalos, @calspixie, @filtermono, @huhuehuey, @mikey-girl12, @lilliaflurr, @hypophrenium, @sitkafay, @spiicyari, @andeerwilson, @btswerewolfaus, @oyasumi7

[nicolewrites]

heartstrings - ii

hey it’s been less than 48 hours, but this keeps getting longer and longer. originally should have been a one-shot is likely going to be ~4 parts now. Just a slight warning, some mentions of alcohol abuse and past abusive relationships. Anyways,

part i

Rating: T Genre: Romance Characters: [Vax’ildan and Keyleth] [Percival de Rolo and Vex’ahlia] Words: 6258

Kiki @keylethashari has tagged you in a tweet: New Q&A up and we’re talking music! creds to @vexmachina @vaxmachina @burtreynoldsesq @thelumineers and others!! // CR1 Vaxleth+Perc’ahlia YouTuber/Musician/Celebrity AU

AO3

“So, one more time, if we sign this, then we get complete creative control over our album plus we can keep releasing videos and stay active on YouTube?” Vex asked as she flipped to the second page of the heavy contract before her.

Cassandra nodded. “It’s definitely important that you guys get to keep your brand which is two siblings making videos and singing together. We just want to help you be able to distribute your music. We can hook you up with collaborators or producers or even just get you better equipment.”

Vax exhaled and fiddled with the corner of the contract. “And there’s no rush, right? No pressure on us to have an album out in the next month or anything?”

Cassandra smiled. “Well I figured your first step could be to record some of your more popular covers and release a cover album. It will be a good way to both introduce you to the studio and better quality recording equipment as well as reintroduce the world to the Vox Machina they already love. 

Vex and Vax made eye contact. Everything that was being proposed seemed in their favour and Cassandra and Whitestone had definitely been the most respectful of the fact that they had shot to fame so suddenly that they were still adjusting. In all honesty, Vax could have been ready to sign with the label from the first meeting they had, but they did need time to consider all of their options. 

Conclave Recording Studios had offered them a much larger signing bonus, but that contract had been riddled with little hooks that robbed them of certain royalties, their creative freedom, and even control over their YouTube channel. That had been an easy deal to turn down, even if the money was a little tempting. 

Still, Cassandra had come back with a counteroffer once she learned that the twins were considering other avenues and had presented them with total control, no restrictions on their channel, and a bonus bigger than Whitestone’s original offer, though not quite at the same size as what Conclave was willing to give. 

Vex smiled at Cassandra and picked up the pen. “Well, this all sounds perfect to me.”

“I can agree with that,” Vax added as he flipped to the final page. 

They both signed their names on each copy of the contract and Cassandra scrawled her name in beside theirs. The beautiful woman who had been lurking in the back of the office stepped forwards and signed as the witness before she clasped her hands and gave both twins a radiant smile. 

“I look forward to working with both of you!”

Vax raised an eyebrow and glanced at Cassandra. The record owner smiled and patted the beautiful woman on the back. “Vex’ahlia, Vax’ildan, this is Zahra, the publicist I previously mentioned. She’s in charge of my most important clients and I know you’ll love her.”

Zahra grinned widely. “I can already see that the two of you will sell as you’ve managed to prove that yourself with your channel.”

Vex stood up and held her hand out for Zahra to shake. “Well, darling, I’m sure it will be a pleasure to work with you as well.”

Zahra winked at Vex. “Aren’t you charming! I can see what Percy likes in this one for sure.” Vax rose to his feet and gave Cassandra another curious look. He glanced back at Zahra who was leaning against Cassandra’s desk, still smiling. “You know Percy?”

Zahra waved her hand. “Entirely too well. He used to be my client before I passed him off to the very capable hands of my friend Vanessa. Plus, I’ve been working with Cassandra for a while and you don’t work with one de Rolo without seeing the other at every turn.”

Cassandra shrugged. “Well, I can’t deny that, I am having lunch with Percy today. You are welcome to join us if you’d like, Vex, Vax.”

Vex smiled. “I’d love to, but don’t tell him I’m coming, I’d like to see the look on his face when I just appear.” Vax shook his head. Typical Vex’ahlia. He slid his phone out of his pocket and smiled faintly, an idea flitting across his mind. “I have to pass, but this has been a pleasure.”

The three women in the room shrugged and returned back to easy conversation as Vax opened a new message. 

[Vax] so i know this is probably a little last minute, but how’s today for that raincheck from Scanlan’s.

The reply was almost instant.

[Keyleth] oh you are alive aha. today is actually perfect for me. what did u have in mind??

-

Vax had seen enough of Keyleth’s videos to know that she absolutely adored the vegan lunch place on 6th Street. When he had suggested it, she had sent him four texts of incomprehensible gibberish to show her excitement. Vax had simply smiled and excused himself from Cassandra’s office, calling an Uber as he went. 

When he arrived at the restaurant he decided that this place was exactly the type of place he would expect Keyleth to frequent. It was decorated with dozens of plants and succulents as well as some casual bohemian decorations. It almost reminded him of the room she often filmed her videos in, so it made sense. He had managed to beat her there, so he stood on the curb, hands in his pockets as he waited. 

He waited for seven minutes before a car pulled up and she flew out of the backseat, smiling like crazy. Her red hair was tugged into a ponytail and she was wearing denim overalls with a floral blouse. Her eyes twinkled as she caught sight of him and she pulled him into a tight hug. Vax hugged her back and caught a strong floral whiff that was probably perfume, but he liked to think that Keyleth, the radiant ball of sunshine, just naturally smelled like flowers.

“It only took us two months to reschedule this thing,” Keyleth laughed as she pulled back, leaving her hands resting on his shoulders. 

Vax shrugged. “Self-employment is incredibly difficult,” he said teasingly. 

Keyleth retracted her arms and smiled at him. “Very funny.” She looked up at the restaurant and smiled. “Have you been here before?”

“Melora’s Garden? No, I haven’t. I actually stole the idea from one of your videos.” 

Keyleth laughed and Vax immediately wanted her to do it again. “So you do watch my videos.” Vax smirked. “I’ll admit to that when you admit to watching ours.” “Vox Machina? Only one of my favourite channels lately.”

“Come on, let’s eat. I have news.”

Keyleth linked their arms and pulled him through the front door. “News?”

She turned away briefly to motion to the hostess that they needed a table for two, but she quickly turned her bright, curious green eyes back to him. Vax led her, following the hostess, and kept his mouth shut. As they sat down across from each other, Keyleth linked her fingers and rested her chin atop them, leaning forward.

“Come on, don’t keep me in suspense!”

“Well, I’ve been so busy lately because Vex and I signed with Whitestone this morning,” he revealed.

Keyleth’s beautiful smile spread from ear to ear. She reached out and squeezed one of his hands. “Vax! Congratulations! You guys definitely deserve this. Does this mean I’ll finally be able to buy one of your albums and do an entire video dedicated to why it’s one of the best of all time?”

He squeezed her fingers back in return. “Well, Cassandra wants us to release kind of a ‘Greatest Hits’ of the channel album first before we release any original stuff. She said it would be the world’s reintroduction to us as a real music group.”

Keyleth nodded. “I guess that makes sense, but in my opinion, you guys were a real music group the minute you decided to release your first video. Besides, I happen to think the couple of originals you guys have done have been your best work.”

Vax chuckled. “Thank you, but I don’t think we quite have the mindset to record an entire album of originals at this point. Songs like Phoenix never would have even been finished without your help, you know.”

Keyleth cocked her head. “Vax, I gave you like 7 words of feedback total. The rest was all you: the music, the lyrics, everything. You guys made that happen, not me.” She smiled at him again, but it was more tentative, like the shyer Keyleth he’d met at Scanlan’s party. 

Before he could reply again, a waitress was filling both of their glasses with water and smiling down at them. “Are we ready to order?”

Vax’s brain stalled. He had been so caught up that he hadn’t even glanced at the menu in front of him. Keyleth seemed to notice his deer-in-headlights expression, and she smiled politely at the waitress. 

“I think we need a few more minutes.”

The waitress nodded and bustled off to help someone else. 

Keyleth nudged the menu towards him, smiling. “Better take a look before she comes back and we’re still sitting here stupidly.”

Vax chuckled and picked it up. He flipped the menu up and skimmed his eyes over the selection of Buddha bowls. He paused when he realized that Keyleth was just watching him and hadn’t even looked at her own menu. 

“Kiki, are you going to order?”

She waved him off. “I’m getting Bowl 7, I already knew that.”

Vax put the menu down and grinned at her crookedly. “I think I’ll get the same.”

Her eyes twinkled as she slipped the menu out of his hands. “Well that’s easy for the waitress, isn’t it?”

-

Lunch was great. The food was different, but tasted delicious and Keyleth and him were able to keep a steady flow of easy, fun conversation. She talked about her father and her home and how she decided to move to L.A. Vax, in turn, told her the simplified version of why he and Vex left London and how important it was for them to have a fresh start. 

Keyleth listened with rapt attention and made insightful and supportive comments whenever Vax struggled to put something into words. Talking to her felt like one of the easiest things he’d ever done, even when he was recounting the worst times of his life. Even though she hadn’t known the struggles he had, she was patient with him and she didn’t assume anything about him or his sister. 

He gladly would have sat and talked with her in the restaurant for longer, but as they were finishing their meals, Keyleth’s phone started vibrating with repeated notifications. She frowned and unlocked it. It immediately took her to the Twitter app and Vax watched her face pale as she looked around nervously.

“Keyleth?” he asked cautiously. 

She sighed and turned the screen towards him. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Ashari Army @keylethsashariarmy • 7 minutes ago

GUUUUUUUYS. @keylethashari is having lunch with someone?? They’re at Melora’s and it LOOKS like a date?? Can we get our best investigators on this ASAP. 

Vax blinked as he scanned the tweet. It had a hundred retweets and three hundred likes. People were replying, eagerly urging the original account to post a photo. Keyleth pulled her phone away and dropped it into her purse. 

She stood up and held out her hand for him to take. He hesitated before he accepted it and let her pull him towards the back of the restaurant. The staff members there looked up as they approached and exchanged looks between them.

Keyleth smiled politely. “Hi, I’m Keyleth Ashari, is the manager here?”

There was a brief scuffle as two waiters slipped into the back and reappeared with an old woman who brightened when she saw Keyleth. 

“Oh! Keyleth, dear, what can I do for you?”

Keyleth brushed some hair away from her face and dropped Vax’s hand abruptly. “Uvenda, I think there’s someone here trying to take a photo so I was wondering if you would be able to charge my card for the meals and let us leave out the back?”

Uvenda nodded immediately. “Of course. Just come with me this way, alright?” For the first time, the old woman turned her eyes to Vax and the soft, affectionate look she carried for Keyleth vanished in favour of a much more suspicious, guarded look. “And you are?”

Keyleth’s hand slid into his again. “Uvenda, this is Vax.”

The old woman raised an eyebrow and smirked a little. “Of course. Anyways, right this way dears.”

They were escorted out the rear of the restaurant and Keyleth laughed as they walked through the back parking lot to the next road. She glanced back at the restaurant and giggled. 

“That’ll teach them to ruin my dates.”

Warmth spread through Vax’s stomach. “A date?” Surprise shuttered her features and he laughed. He stepped up, draping an arm over her shoulder. “Don’t worry Kiki, I’m not some internet fan reading too much into things. This was two friends out for lunch.”

She beamed radiantly at him. She ducked out from under his arm and danced away from him, twirling as she laughed. “God do I ever miss freedom and anonymity though,” she said, glancing back at him.

Vax slid his hands into his pockets and watched her. She was as radiant and as beautiful as the sun, even if she could be awkward and goofy and shy. She was alarmingly human and charming and he knew exactly where her popularity stemmed from. And he understood her. Her charms and her stumbles and her desire to have one uninterrupted afternoon. 

She paused in her step and glanced down at the pavement, where her shadow was cast across the pavement. A sly smile slid over her face. “Hey, Vax, come here for a minute.”

He stepped up next to her so their silhouettes were aligned. She slid her arm around his waist and gave him a side hug. She paused and snapped a photo of their entwined shadows before she stepped back. She tapped something out on her phone before she slid it back into her pocket, beaming. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I get to see?”

“You’re following me, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile as he pulled out his own phone to check Keyleth’s Twitter account.

Kiki @keylethashari • Just Now

Sunny days are the best days!! #shadowart | at Melora’s Garden

The tweet was accompanied with the picture she’d just taken of them. Fans were already filling up her replies, demanding to know who she was posing with. Vax smiled at her over his phone and she gave him a gentler, bashful smile. 

“It’s okay, right?”

He nodded. “I’d like it, but that might give people the wrong impression.”

Before he could say anything else, his phone vibrated with a text. 

[Vex] Percival and I are going for drinks on Friday. 

[Vex] Get on my level, darling

Vax smirked as he typed out his reply. 

[Vax] Check Twitter, Stubby.

There was a long moment before Vex replied.

[Vex] OH SHIT so thaaaat’s why you bailed on lunch. Well. 

Keyleth cocked her head at him. “Vax?”

He pocketed his phone. “I believe I was promised a full day of adventures, no? Lunch is one thing, but you must have other favourite parts of the city to show me.”

-

Vax was on the couch watching a fail compilation that Keyleth had sent to him, when his twin senses started tingling. Obviously, there was no way that it was actually a thing, but Vex and Vax had both always been very reactive to the approach of each other, so one night Kima had called it twin senses, and the name had stuck. 

He looked up just as the door opened and Vex walked in. She was wearing an emerald green blouse and black skirt and her lipstick and dark hair were just the tiniest bit mussed, but it was enough to know that her date with Percy had to have gone at least mostly well. To his surprise, Vex didn’t even glance his way as she headed straight for the kitchen. 

He rose carefully and followed her, stepping over the heels that she kicked off on her way there. He walked into the kitchen and found her measuring a generous amount of gin into a glass before topping it off with club soda. She sipped it with what could almost be described as anger, and Vax furrowed his brow. 

“Stubby?”

She spun so fast that she almost dropped her drink. “Jesus, Vax, you scared the shit out of me.”

“You walked right past me. I was in the living room,” he said. Despite his initial impression that her date went well, wariness crept along his mind. “Weren’t you just at a bar?” he asked, gesturing to the heavy drink she was holding like a lifeline. 

Vex pursed her lips. “Can’t exactly get drunk on a first date, no matter how charming the movie star is.” She gulped down more of the drink, furrowing her brow at the bitter alcohol taste. 

Vax stepped past her and poured himself a drink, sipping it slowly. Vex drained her drink quickly and snatched the gin from him as she poured another, not even bothering with the soda this time. 

“Vex?” he asked carefully. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine, darling, just some paparazzi that interrupted a moment I would have rather been private, but I suppose that’s what I get for liking the charming movie star.”

Vax took another slow sip of his drink. “Oh.”

She waved a hand at him. “Since you’re hanging around Keyleth a lot, you must notice that her fans are absolutely rabid. Percy’s like that, except they’re all major magazine headlines.”

“And you told him you were uncomfortable?”

She laughed. “He was more uncomfortable than me. We’re having dinner at his place on Wednesday as so to avoid such things next time.”

He nodded. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”

Vex glanced between her empty glass and the bottle once more before she smiled tentatively at Vax. “I like him, Vax, I really, really do.”

Vax tucked his arm around her and hugged her. “I’m glad.” He paused, not wanting to overstep. “For the record, I like him much better than-”

“That’s not hard,” she said sharply, cutting him off. Drunk, honest Vex’ahlia was gone and she had been replaced with the guarded, colder version of his sister that came out anytime she spoke of their last year in London. 

Vax frowned, but he let it slide. He managed to wrangle the bottle away from Vex and get her in bed, but as he stared at their liquor cabinet, he couldn’t help but feel it would be better entirely empty permanently. 

-

The ringing of his phone woke him up the next morning. He rolled sideways, grabbing it and staring at the screen. He raised an eyebrow, but answered it quickly.

“Shaun?”

“I’m assuming she hasn’t seen it yet, has she?”

“Seen what?” he asked. He sat up and rolled his shoulders. He rubbed his eyes and adjusted the phone at his ear.

“I’ll send you the link, just give me a moment.”

His phone buzzed with a text and Vax switched to speakerphone so he could open it and stay on the call. Gilmore had texted him a link to a tweet by the Hollywood Reporter.

Hollywood Reporter @THR • 9 hours ago

‘Light of the Night’ actor Percival de Rolo caught locking lips with one half of YouTube pop-folk duo Vox Machina. 

The tweet was accompanied by two photos. The first was Vex and Percy looking cozy and happy at some bar and the second was Percy planting one on Vex as her arms locked around his neck. Vax cursed. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then,” Gilmore replied carefully. 

Vax sighed. “I should go make sure she doesn’t lose her shit. Thanks for the call, Shaun.”

“Of course.”

Vax hung up the phone and bolted out of his room. To his surprise, Vex was already awake, pacing around the living room in an oversized sweater as she spoke urgently on the phone in low tones. She looked a little surprised when she saw Vax, but she just gestured to her phone helplessly and he nodded.

Vax headed instead for the kitchen and started a cup of coffee. The pot was almost completely done brewing by the time Vex strolled in after him, looking more exhausted than she’d been in a long time. Vax didn’t say anything, he just held his arms open and let her walk into them, resting her head against his chest tiredly.

“Zahra and Vanessa are working on spinning those photos. I’m honestly not that bothered, but Percy isn’t happy.” She paused looking up at him, a small smile on her face. “He wanted to keep this between us for a while.” 

“He seems serious about you,” Vax commented, still carefully watching Vex’s face.

She shrugged and withdrew from him. “I guess so,” she replied noncommittally. 

Vax held in a sigh. The tinge of vulnerability and emotion Vex had shown was back behind layers of practiced smiles and charm. Something was wrong, and he didn’t know how to get her to admit it. He wasn’t sure where this was stemming from as all the time they’d spent in L.A., he had yet to see her looking like this.

He poured her a cup of coffee instead and tugged on the end of her loose braid. She grumbled and swatted at him, but at least he got a genuine smile out of her for it. 

-

Vax was feeling oddly nervous as he walked across the lobby of the apartment complex. He’d been here a few times before, but this felt different. He made eye contact with the security guard who waved him towards the elevators with hardly a second look. Vax stepped into the clean elevator and punched the button for the 14th floor. He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked onto his toes as the elevator ascended.

The doors opened and he let his feet guide him to apartment 1417. He knocked on the door and waited for a long moment before the door swung inwards. Instead of the freckled face and green eyes of Keyleth like he’d been expecting, Vax was met with a man he didn’t recognize at all. 

The guy had sharp features and brown hair that hung just lower than his ears. The stranger raised an eyebrow at Vax and shifted his weight before he stepped back from the door and motioned for Vax to enter. Vax stepped in cautiously, still eyeing the man with mild confusion. 

“Kash, who was at the door?” Keyleth called from further in the apartment. 

Vax walked through into her living room, accompanied by the man apparently named ‘Kash’. Keyleth looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She beamed when she saw Vax. 

“You’re a little early aren’t you?”

Vax shrugged. “Like five minutes.”

Keyleth giggled and stood up. She crossed the room and wrapped him in a hug. She smelt like flowers again. She stepped back and looked from Vax to the other man. She straightened suddenly and laughed. 

“Wow I forgot you two haven’t met yet. Vax, this is Kashaw, my publicist. Kash, this is Vax’ildan, he’s one of Zahra’s clients.”

Vax glanced at the other man who had visibly relaxed as he nodded. “You’re part of Vox Machina, right?” Kashaw inquired, crossing his arms.

Vax nodded. “Yeah, that would be my sister and I.”

“Zahra thinks you guys have got the stuff to make it big,” Kash said. 

Vax raised an eyebrow and glanced at Keyleth. She rolled her eyes. “As you can tell, Kash is definitely a ball of sunshine who is brilliant with people. But, as you probably couldn’t tell, he’s engaged to Zahra and they both work together at the agency.”

Vax glanced at Kashaw again. His brain really couldn’t seem to process the fact that this guy was engaged to the bubbly, enthusiastic manager/publicist Cassandra had introduced Vex and Vax to. It seemed almost comical to align the two in his brain. 

“But, we’re not here to talk about Kash and his terrible people skills. We’re here to make a video!” Keyleth said excitedly. 

Kashaw nodded. “Well that’s my cue to leave. Remember what I said, right Keyleth?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’ll be mindful of what we share. It’s not a live stream so we can always edit out anything that doesn’t fit.”

With that, Keyleth’s publicist vanished and Vax heard the apartment door shut behind him. Keyleth immediately grabbed Vax’s arm and pulled him to her couch where they sat side by side. She stared at him. 

“You’re sure you want to do this, right?”

Vax smiled. “Kiki, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.”

She nodded. “Well, I know, but usually you and Vex are a packaged deal, so I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with singing on your own and stuff.” Vax laughed. “If you were anyone else, I would say no, but it’s all good.”

She smiled. “Well then, let’s start, shall we!”

She stood from the couch and moved into the armchair across from him. She fiddled with something on her camera before motioning for him to move over so he was out of frame temporarily. She hit the record button and moved into position on the couch. 

“Hello everyone! Welcome back to Variety Thursdays where I make whatever kind of video feels right!” She smiled charmingly. “I know people have been begging for another collaboration video and for another one about music, so I have decided to deliver on both of those fronts.”

She pointed at the camera. “Now, last time I made a music video, I talked about my favourite groups including one that I’d just discovered through my good friend Scanlan Shorthalt. I’m happy to say this video has changed a lot of things for me, including the fact that I’m not just raving about the incredibly talented Vox Machina to a camera since,” she paused, reaching over to grab Vax’s arm so she could yank him into view, “I’m actually sitting here with half of Vox Machina as we speak!”

Vax smiled for the camera and looked back at Keyleth. “Your video opened a lot of doors for us, so really, I think I should be thanking you for everything.” 

She bumped their shoulders together. “Nonsense. You and Vex are crazy talented so I’m definitely a big fan of yours.” She grabbed the stack of papers from the coffee table. “Let’s get to the whole point of this video! The people want to know you! Of course they know me, but let’s talk about the mysterious YouTube Twins who just popped out of nowhere with crazy vocals.”

Vax shrugged. “Vex is the singer. I play guitar mostly. But, if you’re asking, we moved here from London about 5 years ago for a couple of different reasons. The channel is actually due to pressure by a close friend of ours, Shaun Gilmore, who thought we were talented enough to get somewhere.” He looked more closely at the camera. “So Gilmore, I guess we owe you a bigger thanks than previously given.”

Keyleth beamed at him. “And you and I started chatting after I talked about you from Star Search, and we’ve become friends since then.” Vax smiled. “Honestly Keyleth, I really think we ought to credit Scanlan and Pike a bit more. They’re the whole reason I didn’t chicken out of talking to you since they invited Vex and I to that party where I literally crashed into you.”

“Yes, of course, we cannot forget the contributions from the others that actually taught me how much of a dork you are in real life.”

“Hey, you’re the one who snuck us out the rear of that restaurant.”

Keyleth smiled at him and for a moment Vax forgot the cameras were rolling because she was all he could focus on. She was an absolute natural and she made him feel at ease even though he could still get nervous in front of the cameras for his own videos. 

“So can we talk music then? Because you guys just announced that you’re signing with Whitestone Records, right?”

Vax nodded. “Yeah, Cassandra has been great to work with and Vex and I are really excited. We decided to produce some of our best covers first and do kind of a ‘best of the already released gems’ for our first outing, but we’re definitely not a one-trick pony. The channel isn’t going anywhere and you can definitely expect more original content in the future.”

“Oh my gosh, please let’s talk originals because Phoenix is amazing and so is Victory Lap. We know that you wrote most of Phoenix and Vex is the genius behind Victory Lap, so is there anything you can tell me for a hint?” She cast the camera a sly glance. “Well, I guess me and the people who’ll be watching this video.”

Vax looked around jokingly like he was looking for an eavesdropper. “Well, I guess, since I already cleared this with Vex, we can talk about something I’ve been cooking up.” He cleared his throat and Keyleth beamed. 

“A pretty girl picks up the pieces that the world said would never be masterpieces,” he sang gently. “She spins gold from the rubble, breaks away from all of her troubles. And she climbs, and she climbs, and she reaches for mountains of glory. She is glory. She is beauty. She is powerful, wonderful, swinging for the fences because she’s not going down without a fight. Step back stranger and watch out, she shines bright.”

When he finished the verse, Keyleth was staring at him in awe. Vax instantly felt subconscious. He wasn’t used to being so free with his voice, especially without his trusted guitar, but he really liked where Bright was going. It had a similar message to Phoenix, but it came from the heart and that made it true. He had written that part, obviously about Vex, while she had written the next lyrics about a boy who wore the shadows as a cloak until he finally chose the spotlight. 

“Vax, that was beautiful! I cannot wait for it to be done, and I absolutely must be the first person you send it to, okay? And that’s definitely not a request, it’s a demand. Everything you and Vex write is so powerful and deep. It’s beautiful.”

He gave her a small half-smile. “Thanks Keyleth, you’ll be the first on my list to know.”

She knocked their shoulders together and smiled brilliantly. “Good. Now let’s get to this game I made because you’re either going to love it or hate it and I can’t wait to see which one.”

-

A week later, and it was finally time for Keyleth’s video to release. Vax was hanging out at her apartment again as Keyleth finished lining it up in her queue. She clicked one more thing on her computer and looked up at him. 

“It’s ready!” 

Vax sat up from where he was sprawled on his couch. “Twitter time?” She nodded, snatching her phone and typing away. After a moment, Vax’s phone buzzed with the notification. He opened it so that he could retweet it and craft his own message.

Kiki @keylethashari • Just Now

It’s Variety Thursday again and I finally decided to talk music again and this time I brought on my friend @vaxmachina! Check it out and give Vox Machina’s channel a sub when you’re done! youtube.com/watch?v=huYiNbw 

He retweeted Keyleth’s message and wrote up his own tweet.

Vax @vaxmachina • Just Now

Made a video with @keylethashari the other day. There’s singing, some laughter, and some other good stuff. Check it out -> youtube.com/watch?v=huYiNbw 

Keyleth laughed and looked at him. “Eloquent, aren’t you?”

“Vex is the social media wizard, not me. Besides, it gets the meaning across, doesn’t it?” “Hm, I guess it does.” Keyleth paused heavily and held eye contact with him.

After several seconds of fighting off a smile, he cracked and they both burst into laughter. 

-

Vax got home much later that night than he’d intended. He had ended up helping Keyleth cook dinner as they goofed off and had a good time. He figured that Vex was either asleep or out with Percy so she wouldn’t mind him being out so he even let Keyleth talk him into watching the Little Mermaid with her before he finally headed home. 

He unlocked the door quietly and stepped into the apartment. “Vex’ahlia?” he called cautiously. 

There was no immediate response so he assumed that she was out somewhere. His assumption was almost immediately proven wrong as he stepped into the living room and saw her. She was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in her lap as she stared blankly at the wall. 

Vax cursed under his breath and hurried to her side, kneeling next to her. He grabbed the bottle from her and planted a hand on her shoulder. “Vex’ahlia, what are you doing?”

She snapped her head to him and tried to snag the bottle back, but he lifted it out of her reach. “Give it back, Vax,” she said sharply. 

He sank to the ground next to her. “Vex, talk to me, please,” he begged. “Something is going on, I know, but I can’t help unless you talk to me.”

“I don’t need your help. Just give me the damn bottle.”

“No. And I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me, so you can tell me or we’ll just sit here until we’re old and ugly.”

Vex was silent next to him. Vax didn’t say anything as he waited for her to speak. Something was definitely wrong and he needed her to open up to him so that he could help her. When she still said nothing, he exhaled slowly.

“Vex’ahlia, you’re my twin sister. I love you and I want to be there for you. When you’re hurting, I’m hurting too, so please, just talk to me.”

She exhaled shakily and looked at him. Her eyes were wet and full of shame. “Everything is going great, I’m just being stupid.”

He guided her face up so that she would look him in the eye. “Nothing you ever do is stupid, okay? Just talk to me.”

“It started on Instagram. We were just gaining momentum after Keyleth’s first video and I was feeling better than I had in a long time. This random account followed me and kept leaving these horrible comments and direct messaging me all of these hurtful things. It started out as just general insults, but they started hitting closer and closer to home until I realized the truth,” she broke off, her shoulders trembling. 

Vax hugged her tightly and she took a deep, calming breath. “The things that this account was saying were things they never should have known. Personal, dark things that I left behind in London.”

Vax knew what she was going to say next before she said it. “Saundor,” he breathed. “He’s been harassing you this whole time?”

She nodded mutely. “And I just couldn’t block him, couldn’t get him to stop, because every time I tried I would be back to that scared, horrible girl in London who couldn’t get out of a bad place until my entire world was turned upside down.”

“Vex’ahlia, look at me.” She did. “He is scum. Nothing he says carries value because you are radiant and beautiful and stronger than everything he could ever throw at you. He is the biggest blemish you’ll ever have on your life and it’s okay for that to still hurt. Your vulnerability is your strength because it makes you passionate and strong in the face of everything you’ve survived. We left him behind in London, and let me reaffirm for you, he is going to stay there.” She was trembling next to him, so he pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his head atop hers. “I love you so much, Stubby, and nothing he says will ever be true or make me think any less of you. I’m going to block him for you and if you want, I think we should go to the police to make sure he can’t get in contact with you again. But, if you aren’t ready, that can wait, and we can just focus on getting you sober and back to the radiant, wonderful woman that I know. The one we all know.” He kissed her hair. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she replied weakly. “I love you, Vax,” she murmured softly.

“I love you too, Vex, so, so much. Don’t ever forget that.”

He pushed the whiskey bottle to the side and ignored his phone as it vibrated with new messages on Twitter from his and Keyleth’s video. He hugged his sister tighter and murmured words of comfort until she felt safe enough to drift off. He would be there for her to make her feel safe and loved until she could step out of the dark, horrible shadow that Saundor had left on her life.

[jungcock]

babydoll⎜02 (m.)

Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while you’re drunk and have a lot to prove.

→ actor!yoongi x reader

→ smut

→ 7.6k words

a/n: an immediate continuation from the first part. sleazy, aged up by three years, bts. hint of significant age gap themes. dirty talk. a lot of foreplay. defloration. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. denied orgasms. creampie. unprotected sex. hint of jk.

↳ 01 | 02

Jungkook and Taehyung both gave Yoongi a look.

“What?”

“These are ‘we clearly don’t believe you’ looks,” Taehyung explained, pointing between Jungkook and himself.

“I’ve known her since she was twelve!”

“She’s not twelve anymore,” Jungkook commented, hiding his mischievous smile behind his glass as he took a sip. Taehyung tried his best not to snigger with Yoongi’s eyes on him because he was alway more lenient towards Jungkook. Jungkook was the favourite, after all—Taehyung always tried his best to connect with Yoongi but his inappropriate, odd ways fell short. He had to pick and choose his battles and he was chill—buzzed and quite happy to just sip away at his glass of wine.

“Tae!” Jungkook called when no one responded to him.

“Hm?!”

“Are you really not gonna try fuck this girl tonight?” he exasperated and it caused Taehyung to splutter. His eyes flocked to Yoongi, cautious and anxious of his reaction and as expected—Taehyung had never seen Yoongi so livid. Now, Jungkook had gone too far. In a flash, the conversation had gone from playful jesting to rude, perverted remarks. What had gotten into Jungkook?! He was being extremely outlandish and plainly disrespectful—this wasn’t like him... What was he up to?

“No, dude! I don’t want me or the fairy to die,” he chuckled deeply and nervously.

"He's smart," Yoongi chimed in, more calmly than expected.

"I guess I'll have to take one for the team then," Jungkook winked at both of them, ignoring the looming rage that was Min Yoongi.

For the first time ever, the vibes stunned Taehyung into a silence—it could have been the acid mellowing out on him but he was almost sure it wasn't. At this point, he just wished Jungkook told him what the fuck he was up to. Disrespecting his friends was completely out of his character, it was frustrating him—he couldn't even imagine how Yoongi must have been feeling.

Jungkook was pushing every single button and for good reason. If Yoongi spoke up, really spoke up and told him no, he'd have to say why. Yoongi didn't have an answer to that question—not an answer he was willing to share, or even, admit to himself. He shouldn't care who you fucked or whether you wanted a fuck at all. Frankly, he had no business meddling in your sex life whatsoever—you were a grown woman. Yet, here he was, mentally damning his best friend to hell because he supposedly wanted you for the night. What Jungkook had planned out to do, was working.

"You're not gonna go there, are you?" Taehyung asked Jungkook, hoping it was a joke—unaware it was a plot.

"I am," he confirmed with a smirk and then prodded the inside of his check with his tongue. "Why not? She's hot as hell and she wants me. She told me at the bar."

Yoongi's hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "Bullshit," he called, acting believably nonchalant.

Jungkook cockily raised an eyebrow. "You saw her with me at the bar, she was basically begging for it."

"You're such a dick," Taehyung cackled, his worries of upsetting Yoongi were clearly fleeting. Jungkook chuckled with him before turning away—twisted humour they had. Yoongi didn't remember them being this savage in the past. Then again, he had never brought a pretty girl to dangle in front of their faces before. He made a mental note not to do that again, especially if it was you.

"Oh!" Jungkook suddenly bellowed, gesturing to a booth of people in the distance. "It looks like Namjoon's beating me to it."

The other two turned their attention but Jungkook had already turned away to grab another drink, leaving them both to imitate meerkats. Damn, that kid was just too cool, too slick, too much of a douchebag to handle. Yoongi made another mental note to channel this side of Jungkook for future roles.

Taehyung spotted the booth first and immediately strolled over, followed by Jungkook. Yoongi, however, took a moment, opening his fists to see red crescents indented in his palms.

*

You had no clue who called shots however you found yourself with a small glass of tequila and a lemon slice. Namjoon counted down from three and everyone knocked back the alcohol. You were facing Hyuna and you both pulled a face at each other at the taste—then she smiled and winked at you.

You were stunned by her beauty and grace, from her glittery nails to her pink pumps. You couldn't believe she could be even more magnetic in person, but she was. When you introduced yourself, you gushed about how much you adored her which led yourself into her embrace. She giggled and squealed in excitement while you two talked about girly things. You were both so engrossed you had hardly noticed Namjoon leading you all to a booth. It was a tight squeeze with Hyuna and her entourage, so you resorted to perching on Namjoon's lap. With Hyuna opposite you, she pulled your arm towards her so she could lean over the table and whisper in your ear.

"I don't usually get along with Namjoon's girls but you're so cool!" she said fondly.

"Oh, no!" you shook your head.

Hyuna furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"No, she's not one of my 'girls' Hyuna," Namjoon expressed with distaste.

You could only giggle awkwardly.

"Oh! I’m very sorry," she apologised politely.

You swivelled in Namjoon's lap in a panic, waving your hands at her formality. She was your idol, she couldn't do anything wrong in your eyes for her to apologise for.  She giggled at you before lacing her fingers through yours. You squealed at the sweet gesture and bounced in Namjoon's lap. To Namjoon's dismay, you were a wriggler. Every word you spoke, every reaction was animated and it resulted in your ass rubbing against his crotch. He couldn’t help shamefully staring down your back as you leaned forward—the sight sending his thoughts straight into the gutter. If the others saw him now—

“You get a lap dance?! Not fair!”

Everyone’s eyes snapped up to Taehyung, with a laughing Jungkook and an unimpressed Yoongi in tow. Your cheeks were immediately fiery and you were absolutely unable to look at Yoongi. Hyuna squeezed your hand.

“Don’t listen to them babe, they’re all douchebags.”

“Ouch!” Jungkook chimed in, having leaned towards the table to eavesdrop.

“Especially him!”

Jungkook clutched his chest, overdramatically astounded and it forced a giggle out of you. He winked at you before leaning closer to Hyuna and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. You watched her face as he whispered in her ear—she rolled her eyes but you could tell was holding back a smile. It was common knowledge they were very close friends.

“She’s just mad he made her cum three times and then denied her round two,” Taehyung sniggered, earning a scolding from Yoongi and a chuckle from Namjoon. You, however, pretended not to hear it. You loved reading and hearing about the wholesome, older sister, younger brother, friendship of Hyuna and Jungkook—you didn’t want that ruined for you.

Namjoon’s phone buzzed from underneath you and you jumped in surprise. He chuckled, using the opportunity to quickly slip it out of his pocket before you sat back down.

“Jimin’s here,” Namjoon announced, “almost.”

“Don’t let him in,” Taehyung uttered with annoyance.

“Why?!” Namjoon questioned, leaning further back and twisting around slightly to look up at his friend. Looking over your shoulder, you could see he was chuckling at Taehyung's request and had quickly returned to tapping at his phone—most likely replying to Jimin.

“The idiot tweeted his maps route. He’s been texting me about it for the last 20 minutes. Fans and paps will be lurking around outside the whole night if they aren’t there already," Taehyung explained.

"Alright," Namjoon groaned, raising a palm to his forehead, "I better go deal with that." He tucked his phone back into his pocket and then tapped the side of your ass for you to get up. You squeaked and jumped up reflexively, gaining a disapproving stare from Yoongi. As you slid out of the booth with Namjoon following suit, Yoongi slapped the back of Namjoon's head. He winced and turned, holding his head and you were the one to call out an apology. Taehyung followed his friend, presumably to enforce the denial of Jimin's entry.

“Sit back down, ____,” Yoongi commanded you when you stood there for seconds too long, confused as to why you just apologised for Yoongi’s violence. Snapping out of it, you almost obeyed him—almost, if Jungkook hadn’t swooped in with his sidekick queen, Hyuna.

"Come," he said, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you away from the group, away from Yoongi. Yoongi began to follow and immediately, Hyuna latched onto him. What were they up to?

You were on the balcony again and Jungkook was handing you another cigarette. As you lit yours, Jungkook glanced over to his two friends nestled in the far corner, far away from you and himself. Hyuna was doing perfectly, and it weirdly turned him on to see his plans pan out so perfectly.

"I've noticed Yoongi has been eyeing you more harshly than before," you commented, pulling him out of his thoughts. "What did you do?"

"Don't worry about that, babydoll," he said with a smirk.

"Jungkook, please!" you pleaded, "I'm the one that has to go home with him—"

"Hell yeah, you are," he winked.

Immediately, you felt your cheeks heat up and you stomped your foot in aggravation. Jungkook cackled seeing you flush so red. He tapped the underside of your chin and you swatted him away.

"I'm the one who has to deal with him later," you continued, worry in your tone.

"I told you, ____. He's mad at me, not you."

Unfortunately, that did little to ease your mind and Jungkook could see it clear on your face.

"Listen, she's working her magic," he began to explain, pointing his cigarette at Hyuna. "I asked her to ask him about you, make presumptions, plant little ideas in his head—she can be a manipulative little minx when she needs to be. And I'm over here, working my magic with you."

"I don't know if I like this, Jungkook," you squeaked, your face shrouded in concern.

"Doll, you've been in love with this guy for what? Eight years? You're allowed to fuck with his head, he deserves it."

"Wow, Jeon Jungkook, the evil mastermind. Who would have guessed?" you joked, puffing at your cigarette.

He winked, grinning widely before pulling you into him. "Shhh, it's a secret," he whispered into your ear.

You stayed nestled under his arm for a while, chatting about everything and nothing in particular. He was incredibly charming, and funny and he smelt amazing. You were genuinely enjoying his company so much, you almost forgot Yoongi was metres away, you almost forgot that it was all just a plot to make Yoongi jealous. You would have felt sadder about the insincere nature of the conversation with Jungkook if he hadn't suddenly asked for your number.

"It's okay, I'm not expecting a text."

"Why not?"

"It's apart of your plot, isn't it?" you accused, however, far from bitter. He went out of his way to construct this elaborate plan in the shortest amount of time, just to help you score the love of your life. He really didn't need to text you.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, but that doesn't mean I don't genuinely enjoy your company."

Excitement flooded through your body but you managed to stay cool. "Yoongi's told me you don't text girl's back the next day."

"My one night stands, no I don't because I don’t want them to get the wrong idea. But I'm not fucking you tonight, am I?"

It was almost like a challenge. He raised an eyebrow at you, expecting a reply but you could only stutter. What was he insinuating? The games of a man, the concept of flirting, the hints of mild interest—sexual tension were all such foreign concepts to you. You couldn't decipher it. Jungkook chuckled, sparing you and busying himself with butting out his cigarette.

"I see Jimin, let's go inside."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you along—you swore as you passed Yoongi, he eyed your interlocked fingers. You did your best to ignore it.

When you all returned to the booth, Jimin was arguing with Taehyung. Jimin had a girl on his arm and it didn’t look like he was paying her much interest. Taehyung whispered in his ear and he let go of her to grab his friend and she walked off. Jungkook saw it too and chuckled.

“You can never properly pull them, can you?” Jungkook jested.

Jimin raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me, boy!”

Jungkook cackled and earned himself a slap on the chest. You just stood there, Yoongi now by your side, staring at the newly arrived BTS member. He was stunning, magnetic and his hair was a bright silver serving angelic vibes. He was quick to see you staring and he broke into a sweet smile.

“Who are you?” he questioned, his eyes then roaming up and down.

“This is our new babydoll, ____,” Jungkook introduced you.

“What?” Yoongi interrupted, becoming overwhelming overprotective. “For fucks sakes guys, she not a toy.”

“I’d sure like a play,” Jimin chimed in, making you blush. He sauntered the short distance over to you and threw an arm around your shoulder. “Where’s her drink, babydoll needs a drink!”

Jungkook laughed again, watching Yoongi’s anger boil and adoring his friend for unintentionally contributing to his plot. You declined politely and Jimin continued to try convince you. His face was so close to yours, you looked away and saw the girl he was with staring at you with such intense hatred you were beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“She doesn’t need one, Jimin,” Yoongi interjected. “And fucking hi, by the way, good to see you!”

Jimin immediately removed his arm from your person and placed it around Yoongi’s shoulders. He gave him a hug and Yoongi returned it half heartedly. Namjoon returned from the bar with a couple of drinks and Jimin took one off of his hands—he tried to give it to you but you declined, once again.

“Jimin, your girl isn’t happy,” Namjoon informed him and the group. “You should go see to her.”

Jimin made no attempt to do so and instead gestured to you. “This one is much lovelier.”

Namjoon chuckled and shook his head but then nodded in agreement. How were every single one of them interested in you? That was the final straw for Yoongi.

“Ok, time for us to go!”

You snapped your head in Yoongi’s direction with a frown. “But Yoongi—”

He squeezed your hand and stared at you fiercely. “It’s time to go, ____,” he growled.

You nodded.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Namjoon commanded. “It’s too early dude, what the fuck?”

As Namjoon, Taehyung and Jimin pulled Yoongi aside to convince him to stay, Hyuna skipped over to you and gave you a big hug goodbye.

“You can do this, babe!” she encouraged you, “Just tell him how you feel, it’s about time.”

Jungkook was next to hug you, you made sure to inhale extra deeply when he did so, remembering his scent to describe to your best friend when you’d tell her you met the Jeon Jungkook.    

“It takes a second of courage, ok? There’s no way he’s gonna turn you down, trust me.”

“But what if he does?” you squeaked.

Jungkook gave you a look. “Have you seen you? And besides, have I ever let you down?”

“I’ve known you for hours, Jungkook.”

He tilted his head to the side, considering your point but then saw your pretty face and polite smile. Yoongi would be a goner tonight, he was sure of it. He bent down slightly to kiss your cheek and then winked, “Have fun.”

Yoongi grabbed your hand and yanked you out of there so fast you were barely able to wave goodbye to the others. He didn’t say a word as he pulled you along, down to the elevators and through crowds. Before you knew it, you were at the front doors of the club and you ripped your hand from his to stop him.

“Yoongi!” you yelled, “The paparazzi, goddammit!”

He cursed under his breath and removed his jacket. You looked at him inquisitively and then the next thing you knew the jacket was over your head and you were led out the front doors. It was blind chaos, you heard flashes and screaming of Yoongi’s name. His arms were wrapped around you, other bodies pushed you but Yoongi held you tighter, fending them off. He helped you into the back of a taxi and instructed you to keep the jacket over your head until he said so. Paparazzi and fans knocked on the car windows, still screaming as you drove away.

With the jacket now off of your head, you both sat in silence and you finally had a moment to process what had happened, how the night had panned out. You really met your favourite idols and they really convinced you to hop on the cock of the man sitting next to you. Your heart was pounding. You had to do it, you were going to do it. Jungkook courage, Hyuna courage and liquid courage were counting on you, egging you on. You had to do it. You had wanted this more than you wanted anything.

The taxi pulled up to your apartment and Yoongi got out first, opening the door for you. You followed him as he unlocked your front door, leading you inside as if it was his place, not yours. He turned to you as if to say goodbye so you ignored him, walking straight to your bedroom. You tried to calm your breathing, pottering around your room, waiting for him to follow.

You heard footsteps stop at your door and the sound of him clearing his throat. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you responded, while taking off your earrings. “Can you please get me a glass of w—”

You turned to see him holding a glass of water and you smiled appreciatively. He grinned back before walking into your room, the door swinging slightly closed and placing the glass on your nightstand. You continued taking off your jewelry and you caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, tapping his thighs awkwardly. Your eyes met in the reflection and he strode up to you. He kissed you on your cheek and bid you farewell before making his leave.

As he reached for the doorknob, you sprinted over and slid between himself and the door—shutting it. You felt his deep sigh blow over your shoulder. He knew what you were doing and if he was really opposed to it, if he really didn’t want it, he would have been more assertive—he would have shook you silly, really scolded you—but he didn’t. He was his patient, calculated self—leaning over you, hand still on the doorknob, thinking through his next move.

“You wanna talk?” he suggested, stepping away from you and sitting on your bed. “About what happened tonight… with Jungkook?”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. You hated it when he did this, turned a situation around, twisted the agenda so he’d have the upper hand—and he did it so well. You immediately felt penitent, hanging your head and fidgeting with the bottom of your skirt.

“You know, I’m surprised it was Jungkook you went for... I always thought it was Taehyung you had your heart set on. That’s why I left you to it with him. He always calls the girls back,” he explained as if he would have let you end up in any other bed other than your own that night. “Jungkook doesn’t, I told you before.”

You kept quiet, calculating your thoughts, picking your words carefully. There were about a hundred points you so badly wanted to address, to argue—but you chose to let him talk. You let him play his game, until it was time to play yours.

“I’m not giving you his number, by the way,” he said with a little too much spite and then cleared his throat. “He’d only hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself, Yoongi,” you defended yourself in a small voice.

He scoffed.

“But, I don’t want his number,” you said, choosing not to tell him that he already had yours.

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed and he pouted in confusion. “Let me leave then—”

“Yoongi, you need to stop playing dumb it’s getting awfully tiresome,” you interrupted him, slowly making your way over to the bed where he sat. You bravely straddled him, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and staring fiercely into his eyes. “We could all see how jealous you were tonight, stop fighting it… I want you more.”

Your confidence came from pure adrenaline and you went with it, beyond caring and unfazed by his indifferent reactions. He sighed uncomfortably, leaning back on his palms to create as much distance as possible—you ignored the resistance. You left a delicate peck to his cheek and another and another, starting at his cheekbone and moving down every kiss—your lipgloss sticking to his skin. He growled just before you got to the corner of his mouth.

"____," he warned.

"Please Yoongi, you know how I feel about you, I know you do. God, I want you so bad. I’ve wanted you for so long, for years! I’ve touched myself to the thought of you so many times I can’t even count. Please fuck me Yoongi, I’m gonna go insane if you don’t.”

He was still and silent for a good few seconds. With your hands on his shoulders, you could feel the tension in them. You tried to massage them, relax him in any way, to get an answer out of him in any way. However, he continued to be as unreadable as he always was.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, ____,” he growled, guttural and pained.

“If you hadn’t been so opposed to giving in to me, like I know you want to, I wouldn’t have been forced to play.”

He stared into your eyes, resent in his own—you ignored it.

“Have you—“

“No,” you interrupted, knowing what he was asking. “I want you to be my first, please.”

At some point, you had nestled your face into the side of his neck and you could distinctly hear a rumbling in the back of it. It was his resolve, it was breaking, he was breaking. You put it all on the line, you uttered the words, the truth that hung in the air for years—it was now solid, in front of him, sitting on him and it was begging him for a fuck. How could he reject the notion, how could he reject you? He couldn’t... and he didn’t want to. And suddenly, he snapped.

“Just remember,” he growled before grabbing you by the hair and yanking your head back so he could look you in the eye, “you asked for this.”

You nodded to your best ability before he let go of your hair and you smacked your lips onto his. And you were kissing him—you were finally kissing Min Yoongi. His lips were soft and moist, tasted no less than delicious, although he was the one to devour you. He dominated your mouth, his lips moving yours, syncing yours into the perfect rhythm. You would have forgotten to breathe if he hadn't pulled away every few moments for you to softly gasp for air. Every nerve in your body felt electrified—you were so susceptible to his touch, it all felt and was, heightened. He was kissing you, he was finally kissing you and it was everything. It was better than you could have ever imagined.

His tongue was a surprise. It drove your mind into a foggy delirium, and sent your heart pounding to the point you'd thought he'd hear. You didn't know what to do with it, you squirmed when he first pushed the wet muscle past your lips—but he held your head, trapping you. Whenever you made a wrong move, flicked too much, swirled too much, he'd growl and you'd retreat. It was almost if he was teaching you how to kiss—which was fitting because you had only kissed two people in your lifetime and he had kissed actress after actor after actress. All that practice, it made sense he was so damn good at it.

Eventually, he got rougher—his hands sliding up your thighs, his teeth biting at your bottom lip. He was no longer giving you moments to breathe and when you pulled away to do so he grabbed your hair, yanking hard. With your head thrown back and your neck so inviting, Yoongi slowly licked a strip from your clavicle to the underside of your chin. Before you had a chance to process how downright kinky your make-out had turned, he had your lips enveloped by his, sucking, biting.

"Are you scared?" he growled against your lips, his hands clawing at your skin.

You squeaked at his abruptly aggressive motions—but you weren’t scared. You trusted him with your life, if he was trying to change your mind, as he probably was, it was the worst way to go about it. If anything, it was exciting you.

"No," you breathed.

Yoongi pulled you back slightly to give you a look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, fucking hell, Yoongi!" you yelled, bucking your hips into his.

As much as he was enjoying your little body on top of him, Yoongi lifted you effortlessly and dropped you onto the bed. You almost bounced off of it but he grabbed you, flipping you over and pinning you against the mattress. Pushing up against your body, you could feel how hard he was through his pants, you could feel how big he was against your ass—it sent shivers of anticipation down your spine.

"If you're gonna act like a brat, you're gonna get treated like a brat," Yoongi rasped in your ear. You gulped, goosebumps formed on your skin and your core throbbed. He slowly let go of your hair, softly brushing it away from your face. "Are you gonna behave?"

You nodded yes, scared of the noises of unadulterated arousal that would escape you if you'd open your mouth.

"Good."

Yoongi lifted his weight off of you but still held onto your hair. You had your cheek to the comforter so your shoulder obstructed your view of him—he eventually let go of your hair however your visibility was still poor. You were so in the dark, but it enticed you more, it had you wriggling and rubbing your thighs together. When you felt his touch again, it was on the backs of your thighs, stroking up and down, stopping just below your skirt, then dipping just under your skirt—until he was massaging you so close to your core you almost cried. Pushing your skirt up, you heard Yoongi let out a deep sigh at the sight of your lacy black panties, if they could be called panties at all. A slap fell to your right cheek and you yelped in surprise—followed by his chuckling. He grabbed at your hips, pulling them up off the mattress until you were on your knees, ass in the air, face buried in the comforter. He pulled at your panties, your dripping centre lubricating the friction and making you cry out.

"So wet," Yoongi mumbled to himself before kissing a cheek and then rolling your soiled underwear down your legs. Your breathing hitched, your eyes screwed shut. You could feel your clit throbbing and your whole body ignited realising he was just staring at all of your holes, all of your glory. You almost panicked until he licked a strip up your pussy—his tongue playing with your outer folds, tracing them, teasing you. With your face shoved against the bed, your moans and squeals were muffled, your breathing irregular and your body shaking. You were inexperienced in all aspects including how to receive. He held your thighs apart, taking his time to taste you thoroughly, to eat you properly. He lapped at your slit until he had you screaming, unable to handle the fervent pleasure—it felt like complete bliss, a mindblowing sensation that had your toes curling. He spread you further to bury his nose, his entire face, into your heat and craned his neck to reach your clit and suckled on it. Your eyes rolled back and before he even had a chance to stick a finger inside you, you were cumming all over his face.

"Already?" he teased, pulling away from you only after fully riding out your orgasm. All you could do was pant and he chuckled. "Another one?"

You shook your head frantically. "Please, Yoongi, it's too much!" your wails muffled into the sheets.

He was giving you a lot, your virgin pussy wasn’t used to such intense stimulation. Your thighs and ass were trembling, still having to hold the position for him and you didn't know how much longer you could. He ignored your pleas and delved his face back into your dripping heat, enclosing his lips over your sensitive bud once again. You cried out from the overstimulation and tried to crawl away but he was too strong—he grabbed you roughly and flipped you on your back. It was different seeing him, watching him do dirty things to you. It made your heart race and your nerves quake—as he spread your legs wide for him, he smirked at you and you blushed wildly. Thankfully, when he went down again, the pleasure was so heavenly you forgot about your shame. Eventually moving away from your clit, he rolled and dipped his tongue into your small hole. You immediately squealed from the foreign feeling and tried to shuffle away but he yanked your hips back down, holding your body in lock, before lightly tracing your entrance with a finger and his tongue moving back to massage your clit. Your moans and wails were uncontrollable, unfiltered, unruly. It was music to his ears. When he finally removed his mouth from you, you were whining for it back.

"You like it when I eat your little pussy, don't you?"

"Yes!" you moaned, cheeks flushed red.

He sniggered, kissing your inner thighs, two sloppy kisses on each. “Now, tell me, babydoll, where do you touch yourself when you think about me?"

He locked your gaze and you felt his words in the pit of your stomach. His lips and chin were glistening from your arousal and his eyes were dark and rich with desire. You stuttered so he demonstrated.

"Here?" He asked, tapping your drowned entrance.

You shook your head.

“Here?” He asked again, tracing his finger up to your clit and rubbing small circles.

You nodded shamefully, moaning and bringing a finger to your mouth to bite. He chuckled while prepping your small entrance. It was obvious it had been completely untouched so he wanted to be extra thorough, especially if his cock was getting anywhere near it tonight. You were squirming the entire time and it didn't take long for you to get anxious.

"Yoongi," you whined.

"Patience, baby," he hushed, "no one has touched you here before."

He initiated small pushes, only fingertip deep but it had you digging your nails into his biceps. You were tighter than he thought. Pushing that primal excitement to feel that around his cock aside, he kissed you to calm you down. It was also a perfect distraction to plunge his finger knuckle deep inside you.

You squealed into his mouth but he kept kissing you as he pumped, slowly and accurately. You were moaning so loud and brazenly, goosebumps were forming on his skin. It was a dream come true having you this way, trembling underneath him. Although his fantasies didn't come close to the real thing, close to you. Your mouth was so sweet he couldn't stop tasting it. Your lips so soft and your moans so sensual. He couldn't believe he ever tried to hold out from you. Once your walls started to mould to his movements, he decided to push another finger inside you and you didn't take it very well.

"Baby, you have to relax, ok?"

You nodded, trying your best to breathe through it all. He pumped you slower this time and peeled your shirt and bra off of you so he could trail kisses down your body. He stopped at your nipples giving each of them a lick. It was good but you knew what you wanted. Putting a hand on the top of his head, you shoved his head further down and he chuckled. Without any further protests he added his mouth into the mix, softly licking your clit, calming you, relaxing you and soon—he was smoothly pumping two fingers in and out of you and you were groaning and hissing in satisfaction. He sped up and it forced you to shoot up and prop yourself up onto your elbows. You watched him work with your mouth agape, enchanted, possessed by how good he was making you feel. Your second orgasm of the night wasn't far away as he pumped faster and faster, curling his fingers to hit a spot inside you that you didn't know existed and caused you to scream at the top of your lungs. You let go—your pussy clenching around his digits, your limbs trembling and your eyes rolling back.

"Oh my god," you breathed as Yoongi slowed down for you to ride out your orgasm and eventually, slid his fingers out of your warm cavern. He didn't reply or acknowledge you. Instead, he licked his fingers clean and then began to undress—this whole time he had been clothed while you were fully naked, offering your sweet body to him, giving him all the power. It made sense, you had begged for this moment and he was giving it to you.

"I’m gonna fuck you now," he rasped, having discarded his shirt and now undoing his belt.

You didn't know if you had it in you, but there was no way you were about to back out now—especially when his rock hard cock sprung free and he let out a low sigh. The imagery, the moment, had you drooling. You wanted to touch him so bad. You wanted to feel how velvety and warm and pulsing his length would be, you needed to. You reached out for it, wrapping your small palm around the girth and stroking smoothly. A bead of precum leaked out of his tip and you tapped at it, playing with the sticky fluid before spreading it down his shaft. He hissed and you snapped your head up to watch his reactions. You gripped tighter and stroked faster, earning deep groans.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed, fighting the urge to thrust up into your hand. You kept going, encouraged by the praise, until he grabbed your hands to stop you. "But, I really need to fuck you now."

You nodded before shuffling your nude self back onto the bed. You sprawled out across the bed, offering yourself completely. You focused on your breathing as he loomed over you. This time, he didn’t kiss you or caress you or prep you in any way and instead, lined himself with your entrance. Within seconds, within a few strokes of his cock up your slit, it was happening—he was gradually pushing inside of you. You grabbed onto his forearm to squeeze through the pain but he didn’t say anything, only groaning when his entire length was lodged inside of you, filling you to the brim. Your thighs were shaking, your walls were throbbing at the intrusion. He was still for a few seconds, still refusing to utter a word before he began moving—thrusting into you at a decent pace. You really didn’t expect to be so vocal but as the pain subsided into a subtle sting and then into actual pleasure, moans spilled out. He was fucking you and god, it felt amazing. You were enraptured by his cock, stuffing itself into you over and over, stretching you deliciously. You were pulling at the sheets, pulling at your own hair just needing something to hold onto. God, he felt amazing.

You started to get embarrassed again, watching him just stare at your centre, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You covered your face and your mouth, whimpering into your hands whenever he’d deliver a particularly hard thrust. Your muffled moans pulled him out of his trance and he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty, your walls clenching around nothing—you almost whimpered at the loss of him, at the loss of feeling so full. He flipped you over, yanking your hips up, ready to continue fucking you from behind.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he cooed, slapping his cock on your ass.

“Yoongi, please,” you keened, wiggling your ass back, needing to feel full again.

He listened to your pleas, shoving himself back into you and pounding you at an unruly pace. From the angle, the position, he reached deeper inside of you, knocking you forward every time his hips were cushioned by your ass. You gave him all the control, submitting to him entirely. Every thrust was tinged with pain, but brought you closer to your end. You should have asked him so slow down, to be more gentle but you were hypnotised, entranced by the pleasure. You didn’t know how much longer you were to last. Yoongi felt your walls tightening and pulsing around him and he hissed.

“Are you gonna cum, huh, baby?” he teased you, keeping up his pace, pushing down the small of your back so he could pound deeper inside of you. You whined your answer and he sniggered, picking up his pace and then pulling out again, leaving you high and dry. You body gave out, flopping down onto the mattress—you whimpered feeling your release slipping away from you. He climbed over you, pulling your hair back. He really loved pulling your hair.

“Not yet,” he rasped into your ear, “I wanna see your face when you cum.”

You whined and he flipped your over, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He kissed you, which was a surprise, as he entered you again. He hit your sweet spot inside and it had your mouth agape and your eyes rolling back. You decided, then and there, it was your favourite position so far. He began rocking into you and you couldn’t control your moans. Having been so close to the edge, to be slowly built back up again, had your body trembling. He kissed your more, holding your hands above your head and from that angle, his pelvis began rubbing up against your clit.

“Oh my god!” you screamed against his lips.

He suddenly began thrusting faster and harder and sloppier. You could tell he was close, his breath jagged against your ear. He repositioned your legs, his arms hooking underneath your knees and pushing them to your chest. He jackhammered into you, chasing his release and before he found his—the coil snapped at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi groaned as your walls clenched wildly around him. He pumped, one, two, three times before spilling his seed into you with a growl. Your orgasm continued to rack through your body, igniting every nerve with ecstacy. He pulled out and jerked off violently, continuing to cum all over your pussy, splurts landing on your stomach. You felt his warm seed leak out of your entrance and drip on the sheets as your walls constricted. Yoongi groaned at the sight, slapping his softening cock on your soiled folds and making you whimper. As your high hit you and then dwindled away from you, so did your consciousness and within a minute or two, you fell into the most relaxed, dreamless sleep.

*

The other side of your bed was cold the next morning and surprisingly, you succeeded at holding back the tears. You didn’t ask for anything other than sex, you couldn’t expect more than that. You laid there, staring at the ceiling, nailing those words into your brain, repeating them, thinking them over and over until you could swallow the lump in your throat.

You fished for your phone on your nightstand, slapping wildly until you felt your cool screen. Tapping your lock button, you were surprised to see a lot of texts, two from an unknown number and the rest from Yoongi. Your heart felt less heavy knowing he didn’t just sneak out of your bed without leaving a note. You decided to leave his texts for last.

Speedily typing in your passcode, you were embarrassed to see Safari open on a news google search of Min Yoongi. Before meeting him last night, you had heard through the grapevine he was back from shooting a film overseas—you had to verify that information and there was no way you could ask your best friend who was also his sister. You thanked the heavens you didn’t pull out your phone at all throughout the night. If anyone saw that, if Yoongi saw it—you didn’t know if you could have lived that down.

Still groggy and squinting at the brightness, you accidentally refreshed the page and froze for a moment. You really needed to clear some memory. You tapped around until it finally loaded on articles posted 5 hours ago and pictures of Yoongi at the airport posted 3 hours ago. The articles, however, were about you and Yoongi. You couldn’t believe it, your eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. You tapped into the first article to read and it was just like any other tabloid, harping on about this new mystery girl in Min Yoongi’s life—also spotted canoodling in the club by an inside source. You shook your head and sighed at the shamelessness of the gossip and the intrusive photographs. Thankfully, Yoongi did a good job of hiding your face and was a pro at fending off paparazzi. Your identity was safe.

Next, you tapped into your messages from the unknown number and the content made you gasp.

unknown [11:19:am]:

u better hav gotten laid last night or next time i’m layin u myself ;)

unknown [11:21:am]:

it’s jungkook btw x

You giggled while thinking of a reply and how wrong Yoongi was. No matter how flirty or sleazy his front was, you knew he was a decent guy—surely, Yoongi knew that too otherwise they wouldn’t be best friends.

you [1:01pm]:

mission completed!!

couldn’t have done it without u, evil mastermind ;)

Biting your lip to prevent the stupid grin from spreading across your face, you stared at the messages for a minute, hoping to see the three little bubbles initidicating typing. They didn’t appear so you tapped out of his messages, moving to Yoongi’s. You took a deep breath, scrolling up to the first one.

DON’T txt when drunk [7:31am]:

i had a plane to catch

DON’T txt when drunk [7:32am]:

trust me, i wouldn’t have left like that if i didn’t…

last night wasn’t a one night stand, i promise

i really do have feelings for you, ____. i have for a while

DON’T txt when drunk [7:34am]:

we’ll figure this out

i’ll see you in a couple of months

You really didn’t know what to feel. You were willing to wait for him, of course you were—he was all you ever wanted and finally, you had him. You weren’t about to let him go. Although, you just wished so hard that it didn’t have to be so tricky, especially regarding the next text he sent.

DON’T txt when drunk [7:44am]:

oh and don’t tell my sister… not yet

And just as you read it, another text came through.

platonic loml [1:13pm]:

wtf were u doin w/ my brother at a club last night??

platonic loml [1:14pm]:

I kno ur the mystery girl bitch i helped u pick out that skirt remember

Fuck.

you [1:15pm]:

we were meeting up with a mutual friend

Your phone pinged almost immediately.

platonic loml [1:15pm]:

the fuck does that supposed to mean??

… are you….

you [1:15pm]:

NO

platonic loml [1:16pm]:

YOU TOTALLY ARE

you [1:16pm]:

???

platonic loml [1:17pm]:

DON’T PLAY DUMB!!

YOONGI FINALLY AGREED TO HOOK YOU UP AND THANK FUCK BC I’VE BEEN BEGGING HIM TO FOR YEARS BC I’M A GOOD FRIEND SO U NEED TO SPILL THE TEA!!!

YOU’RE FUCKING THIS MUTUAL FRIEND I KNOW IT!!!!

wHO IS HE?!?

You sighed. If you continued to deny her claim she’d only grow more persistent she was right and maybe, even put two and two together and realise it was her brother you were fucking. And you agreed with Yoongi that that couldn’t happen… not yet. Open on her messages, another message from unknown popped up at the top of your screen that read, “proud of you, lil babydoll ;)” and it gave you an idea. A terrible idea, but you did what you had to do. You typed out her reply without thinking it through and pressed send. You knew you were going to regret it. You definitely were going to regret it.

you [1:20pm]: 

jeon jungkook…

← previous part