#AND BECOME THE BEAM FOR ALL I CARE IDK

[unicornpopcorn14]

//Bsd 117

StOP FUCKING StiP THAT'S ENOYGHH

[oscargender]

to knowis to be loved and to be known is to b eloved. I want transgender friends who will know me and love me in a way that cis people usually do not

[katsu28]

oscar's a grouch (or is he?)

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: to your knowledge, oscar piastri really doesn't like you. but a night out in monaco makes you realize that maybe you don't know oscar's feelings towards you quite as well as you think you do. (3.7k)

warnings: swearing, unwanted advances from a man (not oscar, don't worry), a smidge of landoscar if u squint really hard

a/n: idk about y'all but this summer break is killing me 😭 i just wanna see my boys on track again is that too much to ask. anyways here's some oscar bc he's been giving literal crumbs lately (except for casually mentioning his broken fucking rib)

You’re not even sure what you're celebrating tonight. 

All you know is Lando called you a few hours ago demanding you come to some club with him and a few of his other driver friends, and who were you to deny yourself a fun night out? Especially one where you can put all your drinks on Lando’s tab. (You’re not a gold digger—Lando refuses to let you pay for most things when you go out because he, and you quote, ‘makes a shit ton of money, so why not use it’.) 

Now you’re here, sipping the last of your third (fourth maybe?) drink of the night until there’s nothing but ice. 

The music blasting through the club is so loud you feel the bass thumping in your chest, and it only gets louder when you venture through the crowd in search of the group you came with.

Somehow you’d gotten separated, but it’s really not too hard to locate them. All you have to do is look for a very tall, very polite looking British man a head taller than everyone else, and then you’ve found George Russell.

He spots you too, beckoning you over into the VIP section with a cool nod of his head. All the other drivers are around too—Carlos winks at you over the rather brightly patterned mini umbrella in his drink, Max tips his glass at you as you make your way by. 

Charles and Oscar sit together on a sofa further into the section, seeming deep in conversation, but look up as you pass them. The Monegasque reaches up to give you a fist bump, and Oscar just blinks at you, taking a measured swig of his beer. You fight the urge to sigh at his standoffishness. 

Over the years, Lando’s friends have quickly become your friends too, but Oscar Piastri is an enigma you have yet to crack. You know he’s on the quieter side because Lando had warned you of it before you’d met Oscar for the first time, but you weren’t expecting completely and totally icy.

The Oscar that Lando always talks about excitedly is an entirely different person than the Oscar you’ve become familiar with. 

It seems like he can barely look you in the eye whenever you try to make small talk with him, and you don’t think you’ve ever been alone with him because he always finds a way to slip away before you can even try to make a genuine connection with him. 

What makes things even better (read: worse) is that despite all that, you’ve grown a small crush on Oscar. You’re not sure how, and you’re not sure why, but that doesn’t make your feelings any less real. You’ve accepted that this is just the way things will always be with him, you with a pesky crush and him not wanting anything to do with you. 

You find Lando quickly, bopping around to the beat of the song playing without a care in the world. He looks like he’s having the time of his life, and when he spots you, he positively beams, waving wildly at you. 

“Hey, you!” He exclaims. “How are you? I love you!” 

“I love you too!” You chuckle. “I was gonna get another drink, d’you want anything?” 

“What?” He yells, brows furrowing. “You’re gonna dye your hair pink?”

“Another drink, dummy! Do you want another drink?” You make sure he’s looking at you this time, over-enunciating your words, so he’ll understand them. He narrows his eyes at you in the dim lighting but gets the gist of your question, perking up at the possibility of yet another drink. 

“More vodka shots, baby! One for you, one for me! No, one for everyone!” He giggles, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

His movement is so enthusiastic he nearly tips the two of you over, stumbling on his feet clumsily. You’re quick to push him back into an upright position, grimacing with effort as you trudge over to the nearest sofa and deposit him onto the seat unceremoniously. 

“Oh, this is nice,” He sighs, stroking the leather dreamily. “I should—I should get one of these for my place. D’you think they’d let me take it home?” 

“I really don’t think so, Lan,” You reply, amused. “Stay here. Don’t leave this sofa.” 

Lando groans, tilting his head back against the cushions. “Okay, mum. God!” 

Right, so maybe he doesn’t need those extra shots after all. 

You shoot him one more stern look before leaving him behind and heading for the bar, quietly tasking Carlos with making sure Lando doesn’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. 

There’s an empty spot at the bar when you approach, and you slide in, fingers tapping on the countertop idly as you wait for the bartender to finish up other drinks. 

“Hey.” 

You glance to your left to see a man you don’t recognize, smiling at you.

“Hi.” You say back, pressing your lips into a polite smile. You’re hoping that’ll be the end of the conversation, because you’re not really in the mood to be talking to someone you don’t know when all you’re trying to do is order something. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in a club like this?” His eyes rake over you from head to toe as he says it, shamelessly checking you out with a glint in his eye that makes you feel dirty. 

You take a small, calculated step backward, and much to your dismay, he takes that as an invitation to inch forward. “I’m with a group of friends.” 

“Are they all as attractive as you?” He must think he’s being smooth, but it just makes you even more uncomfortable. 

“Pretty sure they’re not your type,” You reply flatly. “Unless you’re into dudes.” 

The man’s nostrils flare, like you’re accusing him of something absurd. “I’m not. I’ve only dated girls. Really hot girls.” 

“Uh…good for you? I don’t really—” 

“What’s your name? I bet it’s something sexy.” 

“Y’know, my friends are probably wondering where I am, so I’m just gonna—” 

“What’s the rush, sweetheart? I’m just trying to get to know you,” He drawls, stroking clammy fingers over the back of your hand. You yank it away, reaching up to adjust the strap of your top just so he wasn’t touching you anymore. Maybe a little bit harsh, but the vibe you’re getting from him isn’t good at all. 

“I have a boyfriend,” You reply stiffly. It’s a boldfaced lie, but you're hoping you sound convincing enough to get this guy off your case. He’s starting to make you nervous. 

He takes an overdramatic look at your surroundings before focusing back on you, shrugging. “I don’t see one.” 

As if the universe is presenting you with a way out, you spot Oscar walking by at that very second, and before you can think you're grabbing his hand, tugging him towards you. He comes willingly, but looks slightly confused as you tuck yourself close to him.

He’s definitely not your first choice, but right now you don't think you can afford to be picky. At least it's someone you know. 

You pop up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, lips almost pressed to his cheek as you whisper, “Please play along.”

His eyes flick between you and your unwanted conversation partner, and for a moment you think he might blow your cover, but he slides an arm around you after you turn back around, resting his hand on the small of your back. 

You force yourself to ignore the effect it has on you, instead opting to press a little more into his side. His torso is firm under your trembling hands, tense if anything, but the steady rise and fall of his level breathing provides comfort. 

“We got a problem here, mate?” Oscar’s voice sounds more serious than you've ever heard it, and when you look up at him, he looks downright scary.  He towers over both you and the guy you're desperately trying to get rid of, brow furrowed, jaw set. You’re glad that look has never been aimed at you.

The guy shifts nervously on his feet, but still holds his ground. Not a good idea, anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that. “No problems, just trying to have a friendly conversation.” 

“Doesn’t look very friendly to me. Looks like you’re bothering my girlfriend.” 

“Dunno what to tell you, mate. We were just chatting, weren’t we, sweetheart?” 

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, feeling safe enough to do so tucked under Oscar’s arm like you are right now. This guy might be a fucking creep, but he’s not stupid enough to go up against Oscar. “No.” 

He glowers at you, and you feel Oscar’s palm come around, curling around your waist protectively. “Seems like that’s settled then. I reckon you should leave now.” Oscar’s tone leaves absolutely no room for discussion.

Is it wrong that you find it hot? 

“Fine. Don’t need to waste my time on bitches anyways.” 

Oscar stiffens. He moves forward like he’s about to throw a punch, but you’re quicker, splaying your palm over his very sturdy chest to stop him before he does anything rash. You don’t think it’ll go over too well with McLaren higher ups if they learn that one of their drivers got into a fight at a club. 

“He’s not worth it, Osc,” You say softly. He looks down at you, sees the look in your eyes, and his posture relaxes just a little bit. You’re not sure how long the two of you hold each other’s gaze, but when you finally tear your eyes away from his, the guy is long gone. 

Only then do you step away from Oscar, straightening yourself out as much as you can given how things could’ve ended had he not been there to save your ass. He steps away too. With the guy no longer around, there’s no reason for you to be that close together. 

“You alright?” He mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. Even in the dim lighting of the club, you can see how red his cheeks are. 

“Yeah. Fine. That guy was just really freaking me out.” 

“Are you sure? That you’re okay, I mean. ‘Cause yeah, that guy was a creep.” 

“Total creep,” You agree, bobbing your head. “But I’m sure. I’m, uh, I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I don’t know what I would’ve done had you not been there, so…thank you. I know it was probably a little hard for you, but thanks anyways.” 

That last part was likely not necessary, but you’re a smidge tipsy right now. You’ll blame your loose lips on the alcohol. 

Oscar’s brow pinches in the middle, head tilting in confusion. “What?” 

“Pretending to be my boyfriend. Pretending to like me.” 

“Why would that be hard for me?” 

“Uh, I dunno, maybe ‘cause you don’t.” 

“You—wait, you think I don’t like you?” Oscar looks truly befuddled at your insinuation, and you frown, because from your side of things, it’s pretty damn clear. 

“I’m not, like, upset or hurt, or anything. You have a right to dislike whoever you want, I don’t care,” You shrug, craning your neck to look for the bartender. 

“It’s not true.” 

You hum absentmindedly, not really paying attention to his words. Where was that damn bartender? You need that drink, now. Oscar’s fingers wrap around your forearm loosely, but tight enough to grab your attention again. “What?” 

“I don’t…not like you.” 

“I said I don’t care, Oscar. You don’t have to try and make me feel better. It’s fine,” You assure him. You really wish he’d stop pushing the subject. “Just drop it, yeah? Thanks for the save, you can go back to the group now.” 

He regards you blankly for a long few seconds, then he opens his mouth, and just when you think he’s about to say something, it snaps shut. Then he pivots on his heel and starts to walk away. You roll your eyes, turning back to the bar. After all this, you definitely need another drink. Preferably a strong one. 

Maybe you’ll get those shots Lando wanted after all. 

The bartender finally spots you and you sigh in relief, glad and ready to finally get what you came for, but before you can get a word out, you’re being dragged away by the hand. 

You nearly scream, your mind jumping to the worst conclusion before your gaze lands on the same broad shoulders, the same head of brown hair that had just left you not seconds ago. It’s Oscar pulling you through the crowd, and even though you’re beyond relieved, you’re also confused and a little bit pissed off. 

“What’re you—hey! Oscar!” You have to shout over the pulsing music, but either he can’t hear you or he’s choosing to ignore you, because he doesn’t stop. 

He muscles through the crowd with surprising ease with you stumbling along behind him until you’re outside the club, in some sort of private patio area. There’s no one else out here and you’re glad for it, because you have half a mind to yell at him.

Oscar drops your hand, running his fingers through his hair, and when he looks up, you detect confliction in those big brown eyes of his. It almost derails your thought process, but you scowl. 

“What is your problem?” You snap, folding your arms over your chest angrily. 

“You think I don’t like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This again? Fucking hell, I told you to forget about it, Oscar. I meant that.” 

“No, I’m not gonna—you said it, so you obviously meant it. I wanna know why,” He insists. “Why do you think I don’t like you?” 

“Maybe because you haven’t exactly given me anything else to go off of? You always brush me off when I try to talk to you, and when I do get you to have a conversation with me, you can barely look me in the eye. And I swear, it’s like you find every excuse to not be around me.” 

You can’t resist the urge to allow a slightly bitter sounding laugh escape you because, fuck, no matter how many times you tell yourself that you don’t care what Oscar thinks of you, that you don’t give a crap about how it looks like he’s only this way with you, you do care. 

You care so much it makes you want to scream into the void. You shouldn’t care, but you do. 

“So you can say that it’s not true, you can tell me I’m wrong all you want, but I’m just telling it as I see it.” 

Oscar blinks at you again in that way he always does when you talk, the way that makes you want to smack him upside the head but also kiss him senseless too, just to see if he’d react differently. 

“I’m an idiot,” He says. You press your lips together. There won’t be any denying that fact from you. 

He groans, tipping his back towards the sky. “I’m an idiot. It’s not because I don’t like you. It’s—” He pauses, sighing. Crossing his arms, uncrossing them, weighing his options. “It’s because I do like you. A lot. I like you to the point where I don’t know how to act around you without the fear I might do or say something stupid, and then you’ll think I’m a dickhead.” 

“So you thought completely icing me out was…you not being a dickhead?” 

He wrinkles his nose, like he's just realized what his actions must’ve looked like to an outside party. “Oh. That’s not what I meant to….fuck, you must think I’m such a—”

“Dickhead?” You supply helpfully. He nods, shoulders slumping. 

You’re used to long stretches of silence with Oscar, but this one feels different. Now that you know he doesn’t totally hate your guts, the silence isn’t totally unbearable. He steps closer, watching you, gauging your reaction to his movements like you’re some sort of unpredictable creature. 

If anything, Oscar’s the unpredictable one. 

“So…” You start, tilting your head. “You like me?” 

Oscar exhales sharply, nodding. “Guess it might be a bit of a shocker, but I do.”  

“And you already know I like you.” 

“I’ve noticed, yeah,” He says, lips quirking up into a small smile. “What do we do now?”

“Maybe we take things slow. Get to know each other first, ‘cause I dunno if you’ve noticed, but one of us spent a lot of time ignoring the other,” You lilt, half joking. Oscar rolls his eyes playfully, but nods his agreement nonetheless. “I think for now, we should get back inside. I’ve got to make sure Lando hasn’t tried to steal the sofa from right out the section.” 

Oscar’s nose scrunches, head cocking to the side in bewilderment. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it another time.” 

“How about tomorrow over dinner?” He blurts, running a hand through his hair. It flops right back into place, one stray curl hanging over his forehead that he doesn’t seem to notice as he smiles hopefully at you. 

“I’d like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Duh.” 

His smile grows bigger, pushing up his cheeks so much it makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. You’ve never been the receiver of this smile before, and now that you are, you never want him to stop smiling at you like this. “Okay. Okay, cool. I’ll text you.” 

“Don’t you need my number for that?” 

“Oh, I’ve uh, I’ve got it already. I nabbed it from Lando’s phone a while ago. Just in case I gathered up the courage to message you. Which I didn’t, as you could probably tell,” He replied, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I wanted to though. I just—I didn’t know what to say.” 

“How’d you get into his phone?” 

He snorts this time, raising a brow at you. “His password’s 4444. Not exactly mission impossible.” 

You really need to have a talk with your friend about Internet safety one of these days. 

The aforementioned friend throws his hands up into the air when he spots you making your way back into the section as soon as you re-enter the club, bouncing over to you to wrap you in a giant hug. Lando mumbles something you can’t understand into your ear and giggles, then spots Oscar lingering behind you and positively screeches, reaching to pull him into the hug too. 

You don’t have time to get your arms out of where they’re trapped against your sides in Lando’s surprisingly vice-like grip before Oscar stumbles forward into your back at his friend’s harsh tug, cheek smushing against the top of your head. The muttered sorry he offers you does nothing to quell your rocket fast heartbeat at being this close to him for the first time.

“Look at us!” Lando hiccups, squeezing you both as tight as he can. Not an easy feat when you’re hugging two people at once. He bumps his forehead against yours gently to draw your attention back to him. (More like lightly headbutted, but you remain un-concussed so you won’t hold it against him.) “Hey, you’re in a papaya sandwich!” 

Oscar’s low chuckle vibrates through his chest and you feel it rumble through you too. You also feel his pinky curl around your own, thumb pressing against the inside of your wrist tenderly. 

It’s a subtle gesture, one that might not seem like much to anyone else, but you’ve gone from sort of acquaintances to something a little more than friends in the span of less than an hour.

Are you even friends now? You can’t even answer that. You like him and he likes you, but the only time you’ve ever spent together has been around other people. 

Still, only two points of contact—you’re not even holding hands and you think you might spontaneously combust. 

But you have to play it cool. 

The good thing about drunk Lando is that his attention span is close to zero, so he quickly grows bored of sandwiching you into a McLaren hug and wanders off again, most likely in search of another drink. You feel like it would be a good idea to stop him but you plop onto the nearest couch instead, letting your head tip against the back of it. 

To your surprise, Oscar motions for you to scooch over, slotting himself into the extra space you create. There’s a respectful distance left between yourselves, but then he leans towards you to be heard over the music.

“Your pulse was racing.” 

“Gee, I wonder why,” You muse. “Definitely not because of how I feel about you.” 

“Ha ha. You’re funny.” 

“See what you’ve been missing out on all this time?” You joke, head lolling to the side to grin at him. 

“I see it.” He’s looking at you unabashedly already, eyes drinking you in like he’s parched and you’re water. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, and god, you want to kiss him so bad right now. 

Instead you take a deep breath, fixing him to the spot with a pointed look. “Stop staring, or you’ll draw attention.” 

Oscar startles like he wasn’t aware he was staring that hard at you, mumbling out another apology before retreating back to his own bubble of space stiffly. 

You feel a tad guilty now. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but you and Oscar haven’t even begun to understand what you are to each other yet, and the last thing you want is the driver rumor mill to start spinning its wheels about your budding relationship before you even knew if there was going to be a relationship. It’s the kind of thing you want to keep under wraps until the two of you figure things out. 

Sighing lightly, you slide your hand along the empty space separating you, curling your pinky around his the same way he did earlier. Part of you expects he’ll shy away, so when he reciprocates the action, you’re pleasantly relieved. 

There’s still quite a bit of getting to know each other to be done, but you’re excited to see what this next chapter with Oscar holds.

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[disillusioneddanny]

Enjoy some Damian/Danny drabble :3

I'm not sure if this is ever going to go anywhere but enjoy <3

Danny smiled and held his letter close to his chest, the words of his precious Moon Beam washing over him once again. He hadn’t seen Damian since his family had left the League of Assassins ten years prior, but he looked forward to the letters from his fiance each month they came. 

Growing up in Nanda Parbat, the two had been inseparable, had been absolute best friends, They trained together, ate together, took their punishments together. Damian had been the best part of Danny’s life for seven long years. And when their parents had announced that they would be wed one day had been one of the greatest days of Danny’s life. He had always had a bit of a puppy crush on Damian, and knew that the boy thought the same of him. From there they had grown even close, up until it was time for Danny and his family to embark on their mission. 

The Fentons were being sent to Amity Park to study Lazarus Water in solitary so that the League could better understand the waters and what they were and how to better manipulate it. Slowly his parents had become obsessed with pit demons and wanted to learn how to control them, how to make them work for the League as mindless slaves. The two had dedicated all of their time to it while Danny and Jazz worked to become normal kids and fit in with the new society that they were living within. 

The letters from Damian each month had become a lifeline to his love. The two wrote back and forth for years, growing closer and closer, falling more and more in love with one another. And now they were getting closer to the day they were set to wed. Damian knew everything about Danny, was even one of the few people who knew of Danny’s secret as a halfa. Which, Damian had plans, plans he would never divulge not even in letters on how to get Danny safely away from his parents and from the League of Assassins. 

Because despite the fact that they were stationed in the middle of Amity Park, Illinois, they were still very much still members. Whereas Damian had left the league and rejected his status as heir to the Demon’s Head. He had maintained that the two were still set to be married, refusing to allow anyone else to take Danny’s hand in marriage. Of course, Danny’s parents were still more than happy to allow that to happen, Damian was still a Wayne after all and that meant that he had influence. 

Danny didn’t care about any of that, though. He didn’t care that Dami was a Wayne, he didn’t care that he had a plan to get Danny away from the League of Assassins. What he cared was that Damian loved him and in just a few weeks when Danny turned eighteen they were finally going to get married and he would be far, far away from Amity Park and the League of Assassins. 

No more experiments, no more ghosts, no more hunting and running away from his parents who were determined to catch Phantom and turn him into a mindless slave for the League. It would just be him and Damian, living their lives the way they deserved.

idk if anything would ever come out of this but if you're interested in more, lmk, maybe i can add it to my mile long wip list :3

[tulipatheticee]

i've been waiting for you

violet bridgerton x youngest! daughter

bridgerton siblings x younger! sibling

synopsis; From the moment Edmund Bridgerton passed, leaving his wife widowed with eight children and one on the way, Violet found herself adrift until the arrival of Isadora, her youngest daughter. Isadora, quiet and calm, becomes Violet's constant companion in bustling Mayfair, offering solace and steadfast support at her mother's side.

word count; 1.3k

master list

a/n; i have arisen yet again, this is my first bridgerton fic so hello to the brigderton tag! i have archived all my old stuff because they are old and tbh the fandoms have died SO LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF

my name is tulippa and im from sicily, im pretty confident in my english now but let me know if you see any errors! i mainly write fluffy family stuff like this, i love it idk. if you like this and want to see more like it let me know and ill provide for you! but its not like i wont write x reader romance cmon of course i will, but im best at parentxchild and siblings (PLATONIC ALWAYS DONT BE WEIRD) anyways i could go on and on but i wont, enjoy!!!

kinda proof read, kinda not, you've been warned

I'll carry you all the way

Violet Bridgerton had weathered many storms in her life, but none so devastating as the loss of her beloved husband, Edmund. His passing left her shattered, a widow with eight children to care for and another on the way. The pregnancy was fraught with complications, exacerbated by Violet's grief and the toll it took on her health.

Days turned into months as Violet withdrew into herself, mourning Edmund's absence even as life continued around her. Her family rallied, but Violet's sorrow was a heavy veil that separated her from them. It was during those long, solitary hours that she felt the weight of loneliness and the fear of losing both husband and child.

And you'll choose the day

The labour came unexpectedly, fierce and unforgiving. Violet's strength waned, her heart weary from loss and longing. The doctors and midwives worked tirelessly, their faces etched with concern. Hours passed like eternity until finally, a cry pierced the air—a fragile, yet determined cry that signalled new life.

Isadora was born amidst tears and relief, a tiny bundle of hope wrapped in Violet's trembling arms. The room, once fraught with fear, now glowed with a soft, golden light as mother and daughter gazed at each other for the first time. In that moment, everything seemed to still, and Violet knew she had been granted a miracle.

When you're prepared to greet me

She named her daughter Isadora, after the delicate Dahlia flower that Edmund had loved tending in their garden—a reminder of the beauty that bloomed even in the darkest of times.

As Isadora grew, she became Violet's constant companion, a beacon of joy and innocence in the Bridgerton household. Her older siblings doted on her, especially Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, who saw in her a reflection of their lost father's spirit. Isadora's laughter filled the halls of Bridgerton House and her curious mind sought solace in the quiet moments spent with her mother.

One afternoon, in the hushed serenity of the drawing room, Isadora sat at the pianoforte while Violet embroidered nearby. The soft melodies Isadora coaxed from the keys wove through the air, a testament to her growing talent and Violet's nurturing guidance.

"Does this sound right, Mama?" Isadora asked, her voice a melody in itself.

Violet looked up from her embroidery, a fond smile gracing her lips. "It sounds perfect, darling. You have a gift."

Isadora beamed with pride, her small hands continuing their dance over the keys. Despite her tender age, she played with a grace that belied her years, a testament to the bond she shared with her mother and the legacy of love that surrounded her.

I'll be a good mum, I swear

Anthony, Benedict, and Colin entered the room together, their voices low with shared memories and unspoken affection for their youngest sister. Anthony, ever the protective eldest brother, approached Isadora and knelt beside her.

"How are you today, Isa?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"I am well, Anthony," Isadora replied, her gaze never leaving the keys. "Mama teaches me a new piece every day."

"Is that so?" Benedict chimed in, leaning over to peer at the sheet music. "You are quite talented, little one."

"Indeed," Colin added with a smile. "Father would have been proud."

Violet's heart swelled with bittersweet emotion at the mention of Edmund. She had feared she might forget the sound of his voice or the warmth of his touch, but in Isadora, she found echoes of him that kept his memory alive.

You'll see how much I care

"Mama, are you well?" Isadora asked suddenly, sensing the shift in her mother's mood.

Violet blinked back tears, her hand reaching out to clasp Isadora's. "I am well, my love. I am with you, and that is enough."

Isadora nodded solemnly, her understanding far beyond her years. Together, they continued their afternoon ritual, finding solace in music and shared moments that bridged the gap between past sorrows and future joys.

When you meet me

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

In the sunlit gardens of Bridgerton House, where the scent of roses mingled with the laughter of children, Isadora found herself in the company of her older sister, Hyacinth, and brother, Gregory. Despite their lively spirits, they adapted to Isadora's quieter demeanour, creating a harmony that transcended their differences.

You thrill me, you delight me

"Isa, look what I found!" Hyacinth exclaimed, holding a caterpillar in her small hands with excitement.

Isadora approached cautiously, her eyes widening with curiosity. "Oh, wow! What is it?"

Gregory, always eager to share his knowledge, chimed in, "It's a caterpillar, Isa! Hyacinth and I were just talking about how it turns into a butterfly."

Hyacinth nodded eagerly. "Yes, Isa! It's like magic! One day, it will have beautiful wings and fly everywhere!"

Isadora's face lit up with wonder. "That's amazing! Can I hold it?"

Hyacinth carefully passed the caterpillar to Isadora, who watched it crawl across her palm with fascination. Gregory leaned in, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Let's play tag, Isa! You're it!"

You please me, you excite me

Isadora giggled as Gregory darted away, Hyacinth joining in the chase. "Catch us if you can, Isa!"

Isadora laughed, her heart light as she chased after her siblings through the garden paths, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of bees. Despite their differences in temperament, they found joy in each other's company, weaving memories that would last a lifetime.

You're all that

I've been yearning for

— —- —- —- —-

In the quiet of evening, as the Bridgerton family gathered for supper, Isadora remained close to Violet's side. Gregory and Hyacinth, full of youthful exuberance, regaled their siblings with tales of mischief and adventure, and how Isadora won tag earlier in the afternoon. The three eldest Brigderton men shared the lovely pianoforte they witnessed Isadora performing in the morning and spoke of how she is progressing very, while Eloise, Francesca, and Daphne shared knowing glances over the table.

I love you, I adore you

"Isa, do you have to be better than us at everything?" Eloise teased playfully, nudging Isadora with her elbow.

Isadora looked up, a hint of confusing in her eyes, she went to speak before Violet interjected “ "Eloise is just being foolish, darling, she means well”

Isadora quickly understood and replied "I only wish to be like everyone else Eloise, you are so clever, and Francesca is so graceful, and Daphne—"

"—is the epitome of charm," Francesca finished with a smile, her gaze softening as she looked at her youngest sister.

I lay my life before you

Daphne reached across the table to tousle Isadora's hair gently. "You are quite the storyteller yourself, Isa. Perhaps one day you'll write tales that surpass even Eloise's wild adventures."

Isadora's face lit up with delight at the praise from her sisters. "Do you really think so, Daphne?"

"Absolutely," Daphne assured her. "You have a way with words and a heart as big as all of Mayfair."

I only want you more and more

Violet watched the exchange with a tender smile, her heart swelling with pride at the bond between her daughters. Despite the challenges they had faced as a family, moments like these reminded her of the joy that filled their lives.

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

Later that night, as Isadora drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the love of her siblings, Violet tucked her in with a sense of peace. The Bridgertons, each unique in their strengths and passions, formed a tapestry of love and support that would guide Isadora through the years ahead.

I've been waiting for you

"You are so loved, Isadora," Violet whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Never doubt that."

Isadora stirred, a contented smile playing on her lips. 

I've been waiting…

And as Violet watched over her sleeping daughter, she knew that the bonds of siblinghood, and the enduring love of family would carry Isadora through any storm that life might bring.

…For you

pt2

a/n pt2; thats it guys :( i actually had so much fun writing this and if you want anymore of violet and isa or any of the siblings with isa let me know because i'd love for this to become a little oneshot series typa thing! your feedback is greatly appreciated <3

all my love!

~tulippa

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Shigaraki, Overhaul and Dabi

with a Pregnant Partner

Shigaraki x GN! pregnant reader; Overhaul x GN! Pregnant reader, Dabi x GN! pregnant reader

Warnings: reader being reckless, fluff, reader is a villain in Shigaraki and Dabi’s part (is that a warning? Idk)

AN: just me being me again 😌💅 living out my hopes and dreams with soft villains

Shigaraki

Shigaraki was a busy man. He was always looking for ways to further his league of villains all while destroying All Might and his stupid protégé, Izuku Midoriya. However, his biggest challenge currently wasn’t his determination to end hero society or even to create a larger foundation for the league but instead, it was keeping his very pregnant partner contained.

“You never let me do anything fun!” You grumbled as Tomura looked at you, completely unfazed by your usual usual temper tantrum. You were six months pregnant and Tomura had learned very early on how little you appreciated his opinion on keeping yourself out of villainy duties, especially since you had become pregnant.

“So you want to give birth in prison YN?” He responds to you as you glare at him, looking around to garner any support from your fellow league memebers.

“Hey don’t look at us Yn, hand man has a point,” Dabi chuckles as Shigaraki ignored his comments, turning back to the house of cards he was currently building.

“YN my dear don’t you think you should prioritize rest especially in your current state?” Mr. Compress interjects as you turn your glare to the magician. You chose to ignore them and go back to the source your current frustration.

“Tomura I’m bored! You can’t keep me locked up in this bar forever!” You whine as Shigaraki sighs. He honestly has no idea what to do with you, and if you meant less to him, he’d probably just kill you but alas, his stupid feelings for you had always gotten in the way.

“Please listen to Tomura Shigaraki YN, he is only looking out for you,” Kurogiri adds as you continue to grumble, folding your arms and stomp your feet. You really were being completely insufferable.

Shigaraki sighed, standing up and resting his head on your shoulder while gently grazing your bump, “YN will you please stop being a brat and listen to us? We- I want you safe and you know what the doctor said. Now please will you stop annoying everyone?”

You rolled your eyes at his confession knowing Tomura meant every word he said. He was rarely affectionate but when he was, you truly knew he cared.

“Ugh fine!” You grumbled as you felt a smirk grow you’re partners face knowing he won, “But the first Nomu attack after I give birth I get to go too!”

Shigaraki chuckled, shaking his head, “whatever you say brat.”

Overhaul

Overhaul opened the door to the bedroom, wanting to do nothing more than to crawl into bed and cuddle with you. He was exhausted, his serum to eliminate quirks was nearly finished and the Shie Hassaiki was ready for phase two of his plan. He opened the door and turned on the bathroom light, looking over to see you sound asleep. Only he wasn’t met with the usual angelic picture of you in slumber, instead he was met with an empty bed. He sighed, leaving your joint room and heading down to the kitchen. His suspicions were confirmed when he noticed the light beaming from below the door.

He slowly opened the door, peering in as he saw you sitting on a stool, eating your current favorite pregnancy craving as you happily hummed away, enjoying every bite.

“Darling, what are you doing?” He asked as you looked up, face beaming with content as you finished your snack.

“Hi Kai! Are you done working? I was waiting for you in bed but then I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d come and have a snack!” You cheered as Kai came next to you, pulling out a stool and sitting with you.

“Would you like a bite?” You asked.

Overhaul looked at you, a look at disgust on his face at your offer, “YN you know I don’t share food.”

You stare at him, deadpan at his confession as you roll your eyes, “you are aware of how I got pregnant right? So you’re really going to sit there and tell me that you won’t eat a bite of my food?”

Kai chuckled as he stood up, grabbing your empty plate and walking it over to the sink. You stood up, heading over to the sink to wash the dishes as Kai stopped you.

“Let me just do the dishes quick and then we can head to bed ok?”

“Leave them darling, someone will take care of them in the morning,” he said as you gaped at him.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband!” You mock gasped as Kai rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand.

“You need to rest YN, now let’s go,” he said grabbing your hand as you followed behind him. You sighed knowing how much your husband loved and cared for you.

Dabi

Dabi was use to living life on his own, that was until you weaseled your way in and never left. At first he found you annoying, and to be fair, the annoyance never really did go away. However, he now found himself in a position he never thought he’d be in and that was head over heels for you. At this precise moment, however, he was more ready to kill you than he was to hug and kiss you.

“You idiot what are you doing out so late!?!?” He yelled a question you knew was retorical as he dragged you through the back alleyway of the leagues hideout. He was pissed and you knew it.

“Well you said you were coming back around midnight and when you didn’t, I got hungry and since we didn’t have anything to eat, I decided to go and get something to eat,” you declared as Dabi growled at you, turning on his heels and glaring daggers into you. You knew you were in some major trouble but unfortunately, cravings don’t wait.

“YN you know we have food, I just got food for you earlier today!” He whisper shouted as you stood there.

“Well I didn’t want that food! The baby wanted instant ramen which we didn’t have!” You growled back as your partner groaned, his hands going to his head as he paced around the alley.

“YN you realize that we are both wanted criminals right?” He said as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Are we really? I had no clue!” You mocked as you made your way to the entrance of the league’s headquarters, bag of noddles in hand.

“YN you need to stop acting so reckless! It’s one thing for me to get caught but you? Giving birth in Tartarus wouldn’t be a walk in the park!” He shouted as you headed to the kitchen.

“You act like giving birth anywhere will be a walk in the park,” you chimed, annoyed at your boyfriend as he followed you. Dabi was furious but he knew he had to calm down. This was exactly the way you were and it’s one of the big reasons he loved you so much, despite how stupidly you acted at times.

“YN listen, I’m sorry for yelling but you are literally being the biggest idiot right now,” he relented as you went about making your noodles.

“Yeah but I’m an idiot with ramen now,” you sang, unphased by your partners outburst.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?” He said, sitting down as you turned to him and smiled.

“Love me?” You questioned as an annoyed smirk entered his face.

“You’re lucky I already love you idiot.”

[charlottecutepie]

₊˚⊹ᰔ Deal (Mathew Lillard!William Afton x fem!reader)

tags: public sex, m receiving, praise, riding, unprotected sex, threatening??

my notes: not really sure about this one, I might delete it later, idk yet :,) also eng isn’t my first language

“Hello? Mr. "I can't work nights?” Steve's hoarse voice asks, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to his potential victim.

It's always that fucking phone with wires. He'll never get off it. Most, if not all, questions are resolved through this damn phone.

Every time you enter this office, you see Raglan chatting sweetly on the phone, talking about jobs, vacancies, answering customer questions. And then his dark eyes rest on you, briefly studying your face before settling on your body. It's unpleasant feeling, as if you're exposed in front of him like meat on a plate when he already has a fork and a knife in his hands. There Steve lets out a laugh, takes the phone away from his ear and whispers softly to you: "you know what to do, honey." Embarrassment merges with arousal, which you can’t calm down in any way.

It always happens, it has already become a little tradition that at first you hated and denied. You were sick of yourself. But what happened? What made you like it? You started asking for more, you started coming to this damn office yourself, staring at the floor, obediently waiting for the cherished words.

"Yes, it absolutely is. Why? Have you had a change of heart?" Raglan asks with undisguised interest, clarifying Mike's intentions. He didn't even expect him to call back. This is just pure luck, Mike himself fell into his hands, so it's even better.

Every day, the same office, the same time, the same desk, the same Steve Raglan.

You're praying that sloppy sounds of you taking Steve's cock in your mouth don't reach Mike on the other end of the line, you're already ashamed enough. You try to be careful not to get his pants and floor dirty, but Steve doesn't care. His hand rests on your hair, stroking you like a little pet, an obedient pet.

Of course, you'll be obedient. You have made a deal after all.

"Let me give you a little backstory." he lowers his gaze to take a good look at you and spreads his legs wider. His cock penetrates deeper, he presses on your head, which causes an unpleasant feeling of tickling in your throat. You look at him, fluttering your eyelashes quickly as a sign that you're short of air. Fingers dig into his pants, crumpling the fabric. Steve raises his eyebrows, faking surprise, oh, what a pity. He's too rude, and you're too gentle, how cute. "Breathe through your nose or you forgotten you have one?" Steve lowered his voice.

"Can you repeat it again? I didn't hear you." Schmidt clarifies on the phone. You stop moving your head, afraid that Mike will hear something.

Steve sighs and adjusts his glasses, looking away from you. He starts explaining something again and you almost calm down, but he jerks his hips, allowing his dick to fully penetrate your throat, which makes you moan softly.

"This place was huge in the 80s with the kids." he smirks. Fortunately, Mike cannot see the face of his career counselor right now, because it’s definitely distorted by sarcasm and mockery. "This place been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the old wrecking ball treatment is the owners a bit of a… well, he’s kind of a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet." he chuckles. "Yeah…"

Steve's cock throbs in your mouth as you try to inhale through your nose. It's too much, you're slowly suffocating as now the whole situation is controlled by Raglan's hand, which is holding you by the hair. It hurts so bad, but then why you feel the warmth between your legs?

"Had some trouble with break-ins over the years. Drunks and vagrants, mostly. Not ideal…" it's surprising the way he do it, so calmly talking to someone on the phone while roughly fucking your throat. Although at times his tone is interrupted by quiet sighs. "Security systems dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras inside and outside. Fair warning: the electricity is a bit… iffy." he’s all shining with joy while telling Mike about the pizzeria.

When you pull on his pants, tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts unbearably, Steve removes his hand from your hair. You release his shaft from your mouth with a popping sound that sounds very loud in such silence. Raglan smiles, looking at you contentedly, your chin is covered with saliva, cum on your lips, youre so beautiful, sweet. You’re lucky he's in a good mood today.

"Anything happens, there is a breaker in the main office, just flip it." he continues, but now looking at you, which makes it feel like he’s having a conversation with you. You exhale, wrapping your hand around his cock, moving up and down, he slowly pumps into your fist. His hand caresses your cheek, finger runs over your lips, smearing his cum, and it makes you smile a little. There's nothing to smile about, though. But you can't hold back the slight feeling of euphoria from such a gentle Steve, feeling yourself… Special? His touch is tender and his gaze has softened, he smiles while you continue to work with your hand. "Uhm, I guess that’s about it. You know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake." you lean closer, tucking your hair behind ear and running your tongue over his leaking tip. "Fuck, baby." he exhales, slightly squeezing the receiver of the old phone.

"Mr. Raglan?" Mike's puzzled voice. Your heart skipped a beat, like Schmidt's, but not Steve’s. Mike frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. Did he hear correctly or….? From the very beginning of the conversation, he suspected something was wrong. Yeah, Steve's really weird.

Your innocent lick on his cock brought man to an instant orgasm. He was already on the verge from face fucking you, but the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip brought him to the limit. Putting the phone away a little further, he covered his cock with his hand until the spurts of cum laid on your face. He let out a barely heard groan, his glasses fogged up.

"I said it’s a piece of cake." Steve repeats, clearly not interested in continuing dialogue with Mike. "So, I'll catch you on the flip side… hopefully." not waiting for an answer, he hangs up.

What a good day, what an easy prey, how fortunate.

He’s in such a wonderful mood, light idea of rewarding you appears in his head. Why not?

"Come here, baby," he points to his knees with his finger, and you get up like a zombie, immediately pressing your legs together because of the uncomfortable feeling of soaked panties. Of course you're wet, this isn't the first time you are. But this will be the first time your problem will be taken care of. "you've been such a good girl, why don't I return the favor?"

Steve spreads your legs and sits you on his knee, hands holding you in place when you try move. It's not that you don't like it, you're actually losing your mind, but you feel too awkward knowing that you're in a public place. And the fact that he can feel your throbbing pussy against his knee doesn’t make situation better.

"What would you like, honey? My tongue or fingers?" he looks up at you, moving you so that your wet underwear rubs against the fabric of his pants. Your clit is stimulated, but in the most painful and torturous way, causing shallow sighs. You put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze his shirt as you throw head back.

"Please…" you're almost crying. "please, your… oh…" one more move and you'll cum. "cock, your cock, Steve, please!"

"Hush," he squeezes your thigh. "you know our little rule, don't you? Or should i remind you?"

"William," you're correcting your mistake. "William." He grunts with satisfaction.

"That's it." Afton's hands wander over your body, caressing you in right places. "Tell me honestly, you’re going to scream?" at first you don't even understand what he's asking.

He kisses your neck, continuing to slowly bounce you up and down on his knee. Thanks to you, a dark wet spot already appeared on his pants. His beard tickles your skin and his tongue leaves a wet trail on it.

"Yeah," you come to your senses, finally understanding what he meant.

William breaks into a smile. Of course, you'll scream, not just scream, but break your voice and cry, he knows that. His cock is hardening again. Afton loosens his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. He'll definitely find a good use for it, already did. He makes you get off his lap and you look down, blushing. God, you couldn't be that wet?.. It's humiliating, so embarrassing.

William pulls your panties down to your ankles, and you step over them, remaining only in a skirt and shirt. You don't know what to do. This is the first time something as it happens, you've never gone far than just a blowjob. He pulls off your skirt as well, causing it to fall along with your underwear. He pushes the clothes aside with his foot, then sits you on top of him again. William’s eyes don’t leave yours, his hand reaches down, you feel a finger at your wet entrance.

Your lips part to let out a loud moan and William steals it with a kiss. You can't make any noise. He pushes his hips up, pressing the head of his cock against your pussy. He mumbles something into your mouth, holds you tightly in one position, you’re unable to move. His tongue roughly explores your mouth. William feels your breath on him and smiles. Then his hands grope your butt and he pushes you down, slowly lowering you onto his cock.

He moans in unison with you, but quietly, working hours aren’t over yet. However, you can't hold back the loud whimpering, feeling full. It doesn't seem very pleasant at first. Afton closes his eyes, thrusting fully.

"Be quiet." another warning. "You're taking my cock so well," he praises. "don't try to pull away," his hands go up to your back. "you have no right to do that, you know that." a careful but extremely unnecessary reminder. At least, definitely not at the moment when you're having sex with him, you don't want to think about a deal. About consequences if you’ll break it.

Every touch gives you a pleasant tingling sensation and you start to enjoy it more with every second. You move on top of him, trying to find the right angle, pressing your chest against his. You don't want to look at his face, into his eyes, because even through the glasses you can see that he's devouring you with his eyes. It's embarrassing. But it gets worse when he runs his tongue over your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet spot on your clothes. William lightly bites the sensitive skin, while squeezing your other nipple with his fingers, a hiss leaves your lips. It hurts, but it turns you on even more. His chest heaves, he tries to restrain himself from jerking his hips up and ruin your cunt the way you deserve. Your warm walls squeeze his cock too tightly as you tremble from too much attention to your nipples.

"Now move up and down," William points out. "and don't forget about hips."

He knows you've never tried this pose. Of course, he knows everything about you. He likes to be closer to his prey.

Your fingers on his shoulders tighten, you begin to move according to his words. You don't forget about your hips, as he demanded. And then something pleasant begins to spread through the body. An enveloping feeling that radiates to every nerve. His cock feels much different than it did a few minutes ago. Everything inside is burning and throbbing, your body needs more. You want to move faster, you can barely contain your moans. William puts his shoulder up, which is what you're using to shut yourself. You mumble, unable to make a sound, whine, but you continue to bounce on him.

"Good girl," his words break you. "such a tight pussy." your teeth are digging into him painfully, soaking the man's shirt with saliva.

Afton starts moving with you, now holding you tightly. It's like you're nothing more than a rag doll in his hands. Your body becomes so weak and sluggish, eyes roll back in bliss. His cock goes in and out of your pussy with an incredibly perverted sound that echoes throughout the office. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and down your back, but it feels like lava that burns to the bone.

"I-… I feel so good…" your speaking so slurred, because it's hard to talk with his clothes in your mouth, but you're so pleased that you can't control yourself. "William!"

You can't help but moan in surprise when he gets up from his chair, holding your ass, his cock still inside. It even hurts. William lays you on his desk, takes off his glasses and puts them next to a sign with his fake name on it. You dare to look at his face. He's just as horny as you are. Without glasses, he looks a little different, grey strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, hair slightly messy.

William puts his tie in your mouth, you almost choke. Afton leans down, brushes his lips against your collarbone, so sensually. In response, you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to move. William is grinning at you, at your pleading eyes. He begins to hammer in your pussy. You cry out as loud as you can, but fortunately, the tie shuts you up, leaving only indistinct "please." His hands squeeze your ass until it bruise as he thrusts into you.

William stretches you out just fine, thrusting into your cunt fast, which makes it seem like desk under you is about to break. You're afraid of accidentally hitting his glasses, you don't want unnecessary sounds. William is so damn tensed up, you realize that in all this time he has never broken eye contact with you. His cock reaches deeper when you just thought it was impossible and tears flow from your eyes. William smears two fingers with his saliva and lays them to your clit, your pussy clench around him. His fingers move sweetly and slowly, pressing on your bundle of nerves that it drives you crazy. Your legs are wobbly, blood is boiling.

"Do you want me to cum inside you, baby?" the question isnt scary at all, because your brain doesn't work. Your red, tear-stained face responds him. You just nod frantically, trying to say yes, but tie doesn't let. William smiles, runs the pad of his thumb over your clit. "Your cunt clenching around me like that, begging me to fill you up. Damn perfect."

He leans closer to your face. Poor thing, he wants to end your sweet torments, to give you what you crave. Clenching your tie between your teeth, you arch and cry, unconsciously moving your pelvis towards him. William's legs bend slightly as his thrusts become more chaotic. He keeps fucking into you, groaning softly. William wants to say so much dirty things to you, but he can't. He can't be loud, he can't be heard, no need to ruin his reputation. Let others continue to think that he's a good father, an amazing career counselor, an ideal person who helps others. And you… and you're just his little assistant, who brings coffee to his office. Let everyone think so.

Warm liquid filling you, and at first you don't even realize what it is as you cum. His fingers caress your clit with gentle circle movements while you try to bring your legs together, but eventually wrap them around him, only driving him deeper into yourself. William is unable to hold back heavy sighs, still continuing to thrust, until he sees that his cum is already flowing out of you down to the floor. Your tired eyes and his tie in your mouth, all covered with your saliva, cause him an evil smile. This day couldn't be better, today everything is going too well.

"You did so well, Y/n," he breathes with relief, running his fingers over your face and taking the tie out of your mouth. "you extended your little sister's life by one more day. By the way, tell her hi from mr. Raglan."

[thelunarrriver]

Summary ->

You find youself betrothed and married to Prince Aegon, whose rotten reputation well precedes him. A glimpse of his tender side on your wedding night was not one you had expected.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen × Dornish!Reader

Tags:

No smut. Slight fluff. Idk how to tag the rest but if Aegon is your babygirl too, you'll like this. Kinda wanna write an entire fic for this.

[Don't repost, copy or translate. Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!♡]

You had come to court at sixteen with your family. Yours was an ambitious house from the East of Dorne, eager to alliance itself with the Westerosi crown. And as such, your father quickly found a way to install you as one of the Princess' Lady-in- Waiting. Life at court was quite serene at first. The days were mostly spent in company of the princess and her Septa, learning and gossiping, finding adventures in the regulated mundanes. She taught you about insects, and you told her about the many monstrous species that nested within the sands of Dorne. She marvelled at your tales with fascination. The Queen was delighted at the effect you had had on the Princess, providing Helaena with a girlhood as normal as one of royal birth could ever afford.

The younger Prince often visited his sister, and though at first you were only courteous and distant, it soon became impossible to not find youself tangled in a friendship with him as well. He was dutiful and valued his sister's regards, made her laugh and cared for her well-being. As her constant companion, you found that endearing about the one-eyed boy. The same could not be said for the eldest Prince.

Tales of his many unbecoming habits soon caught your wind, and you found yourself coming to despise the man. He was only an year older than you at seventeen, yet even the older maids grew taut at the sight of him. You would watch him sometimes as he grouped them at countless feasts, drowning as he did so in his most favoured cup of Arbour Red, and you often found youself wondering what it was that had birthed this useless monster of a man. Perhaps it was the dismissive air that haunted the Queen, or the King, rotting and ever ignorant of his younger children. Or perhaps an access to anything and everything at such an age allowed for the heart's corruption. You could not know for sure, but a secure guess was a mixture of all three. But then again, what was it to you?

The high of the life at court came crashing down as far as it had ridden when you were bethrothed to the very Prince in question. Aegon Targaryen, the firstborn son of King Viserys I and his second wife, Queen Alicent. Besides that, nothing more that was known of him was of any use to your father. The vile tales of his Flea Bottom revels, his infamous affections for wine and gluttony, or the ever-growing line of bastards that he was said to have sired upon whores and noble-women alike. The day you learnt of it, you had wept in the secrecy of Helaena's chambers, her gentle fingers tracing the back of your head. She had not betrayed you with false words of reassurance as your mother and aunts had, neither had she shielded you from the harsh truth. "I would not be proud to call him husband, I believe mother would agree." She had admitted, and you were glad for it. He had never spoken to you, if he had ever looked your way, you weren't aware of it. You were the most beautiful girl at court, Aemond had once proclaimed, yet your husband who lusted over anything that breathed, had never so much as looked your way. The wedding gown was your sole sense of inspiration towards the marriage.

The wedding ceremony was held at the Royal Sept, where all of Westeros had gathered to witness their Prince become bound in holy matrimony. You wore a gown of blush and gold, the colours of your house, as your father lead you down the ailse and gave your hand away to the Prince. No one had beamed like your father that day, and you wondered for the millionth time if the portrait of his happiness could only ever hang upon the nails of your misery. But none of it seemed to matter when the Prince's eyes met yours, perhaps for the first time in... ever.

His eyes were a soft violet, his hand calloused to the touch and in his eyes, the same look of searching as yours. You looked for proof of every rumouf that haunted his shadow, for humanity in those eyes of a creature closer to God than men. The eyes see true, they said, but what his had been searching for, you could not tell.

The marriage vows were the first words you had ever spoken to him: "Father Smith Warrior, Mother Maiden Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine, from this day till the end of my days." And thus, from the first instant of your meeting, you had belonged to him. There were no introductions, as if your names did not matter in the realm of Gods, only the binding of souls. A cruel joke indeed, you reflected, for names were all that mattered in the realm of men.

And so, you were bound to one another for eternity.

At the feast that afternoon, he asked your hand for the first dance. "You look like Sunfyre," he whispered between twirls.

"Pardon, my Prince?"

"Sunfyre, my dragon." He said, crushing all your confidence beneath the weight of his words. The dancing never stopped.

"You think I look like like a reptilian beast?"

"Oh no I–" His eyes widened at the implication, "Forgive me, that is not what I had meant. I only meant that your dress is of the same colours as him. Rouge and Gold. I'll have you know he's quite beautiful, as are you."

You did not have a chance to thank him as the music came to a hault and the old King rose to a toast. The prince stood by your side, watching along with the rest as your eyes ran across the dias. The Greens and the Blacks stood apart from the rest, glaring at the other unison. By blood they may be dragonlords, superior to the common man. Yet a broken family was as normal as one could get to 'common'.

Your own family was up there beside them for the first time, and your father looked the happiest he had ever been. "He's the bloody Prince, there couldn't be a better match for you in all of Westeros!" His words from earlier that morning rung in your ears. You looked to the man at your right, the Prince in question. He was handsome, with kind eyes and a tender touch. A thin ringlet of rubies circled his forehead, glittering beneath the lights. You desperately let yourself hope your father was right. Just for once, just for a night. As you took your own seat beside the Prince, he sank into his cup some more. You were afraid he might flirt with servants, or worse, and insult you before the entire realm before the marriage had even begun. But the Maiden had granted your prayers, and his eyes remained hesitant as he glanced between you and his platter. You did not speak again, and you grew afraid once more that you were not to his liking.

There was no bedding ceremony, one privilege of becoming a royal at last. You were led into his chambers by his own hand. He was drunk, stumbling ever so often in his steps. Once you were alone, he kissed you. It was different from the kiss at the Sept. That was curt. But now he kissed you with more passion, cradling your cheeks between his hands as he did so. It sent a shrill of disgust rippling across your body as you wondered how many had tasted those same wine-stained lips as you did now. Your cousins always complained you were too prudish for a dornish woman, but the culture of Kind's Landing was nowhere near beyond your grasp. It was only the Prince, and the new founded sense of entitled jealousy that illicited a quiet rage within you. You backed away from the kiss.

"You do not love me," He muttered.

The prince looked as if he had been betrayed, eyes red and teary from too many cups of Arbour Red. Then, with a sudden kick upon a leg of the bed, threw himself againt the mattress. Ringed fingers hid his face as he muttered something against himself once more.

"Pardon, my Prince?"

"I said, you don't fucking love me!"

You were lost. For a second, you contemplated lying and uttering some false words of flattery to please the man. But that wouldn't do. You had promised yourself that once you had escaped the clutches of you father, lies would no longer be your bread. That day had come at last. "I do not," You told him loud and clear, "for I do not know you."

"You've known me for the past year!" He argued, sitting up on the bed to look at you with bewildered eyes laced in tears. Confusion became you, the two of had never even spoken. You were unaware of the affections he had held towards you for quite a while now, all of which threatened to unarm itself in a drunken haze.

You walked over to him, hesitantly reaching to tuck away a disheveled lock of pale blond. Your fingers lingered upon his cheek afterwards, making him lean into your touch. It gave you some courage.

"I would like to come to know you first, Aegon. The man that you lies beneath."

He had a feminine beauty, you noticed, with round eyes and plump rosy lips. Something inside of you grew eagar to place a kiss upon his temple, and so you did. And as you pulled away, he nuzzled into your chest, firmly gripping your waist to hold you back from peeling away.

"Im afraid you'd only despise me like the rest." He spoke against your breasts, hiding.

"At the Sept this morning, I vowed to become one with you, did I not? One cannot truly despise one's own self."

As the words fell from your lips, you knew you did believe them. After all, you were desperate to be loved back just the same. But suddenly you grew afraid, of everything, as you melted into him as well. You were afraid of failure, of betrayal, of heartbreak, and the eternity for which you were bound to him. You thought you knew what to expect of a marriage from the man before you, but that perception had now been crumpled away. Despite it all, you smiled at him.

"I do," He said, referring to your prior statement.

The answer to that was simple.

"Then you can be the hateful half, and I shall see to the rest."

The hint of a dejected smile played at his lips before he pulled you against himself once more, letting you both fall to his bed. The bed that was to become yours as well.

He did not take your maidenhead that night, only another kiss before slumber claimed him like a serene shroud.

[uranometrias]

my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

────────────────────────

The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

[zoeykallus]

Hi! Hope you're doing well! Idk if your asks are open but in case they're, I'll leave my request here:

So recently I started crocheting again and I'm making a nice cozy blanket for my bf. Could you maybe do the Bad Batch (separately) + Mayday, if you can and want, reaction to their s/o knitting/crocheting and then gifting them something? (Could be a blanket, a scarf, whatever you like)

I hope you can do this request, I've always loved crocheting but I've been overwhelmed by work since the pandemic and I've noticed it took a toll on me lol. Byee!!

Aloha!

I was totally sure I did something like this before, and browsed through the (what feels like thousands) works of mine. Just to find out it was a seamstress thing, not crocheting, lol

Now crocheting is of course a different kind of thing, but let's see... I know I'm so late with this request! Sorry!

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Crocheted With Love

Warnings: None FLUFF

_________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_________

Hunter

He is fascinated by the calmness that emanates from you when you crochet something. Hunter admires your dexterity. Sometimes he sits down with you, leans back and watches you, relaxing completely. You chat gently about trivial things, enjoying the serenity of each other's presence. You have crocheted him a scarf out of very fine, thin wool, which he practically always wears. You have to wash and mend it quite often, the garment has to withstand a lot. But he loves this scarf, he would never give it up. Even if Crosshair teases him about it. The Sniper sneers, "Are we wearing new accessories now? Where's your matching purse?" Hunter chuckles calmly, "You're just jealous"

Echo

He watches, admiring how patterns slowly form from what you do, shapes. Time flies by, he doesn't even realize how long he's been sitting there until Tech impatiently calls out to him. Startled, Echo jumps up. "I'm coming!" You grin and look after him, naturally enjoying every bit of his attention, even if he's just watching you silently, fascinated. When he discovers the pretty woolen blanket you crocheted for him in his bunk that evening, he beams all over his face. "You made this for me?" "Of course," you say with a big smile. And of course, he snuggles up in his bunk with you to break in the new blanket.

Wrecker

As Omega has his Lula most of the time, you have crocheted a new one for Wrecker, as true to detail as possible. You don't want him to miss his old Lula. His eyes are almost overflowing with joy. "My own Lula? Just for me?" You beam at him happily and nod. "Just for you, big guy" Wrecker laughs and looks at your gift with a heart swelling with affection. Crosshair, who is just coming into the room, asks, "What new toy have you discovered?" Wrecker happily presses the new Lula into his face. "Look what I got as a present! Look at it! Look! Look!" Wrecker rumbles amusedly, pressing the cuddly toy into the Sniper's face again and again. Crosshair rolls his eyes and tries to dodge. "You're amazed, aren't you?" rumbles Wrecker cheerfully, "Jealous?" Crosshair grumbles sarcastically, "Very"

Tech

Everything that is new and that he doesn't know or hasn't learned yet fascinates him. Tech watches you for a while and then tries it out for himself. His dexterous fingers and alert mind quickly get the hang of it. It becomes a shared hobby that you practice together in quiet hours, sometimes you talk, sometimes you just enjoy each other's presence in silence, smiling at each other from time to time. Tech is always happy to receive any gift, but especially those made with care and love. He uses every blanket, every scarf and everything else you crochet for him only too gladly and with pride. He has someone by his side who cares about him, and these little gifts show that clearly for all to see. Tech really enjoys that.

Crosshair

Don't be fooled by his critical look, you should know by now that he almost always looks like this. His eyes follow the movements of your fingers with interest. Maybe he'll ask you a question or two about where you learned to do this, for example. However, he doesn't like to share your attention, not even with objects, so he may try to distract you from time to time because he wants you to engage with him. Sometimes he's a bit like a child who needs your attention. But in quiet moments he will sit with you, let you lean against him and watch you calmly. You know he's not the type for blankets, cuddly toys or scarves. So you've crocheted him the CF99 emblem with his name on it using the finest wool. As he accepts the gift, he looks at you questioningly and a little surprised. " I want you to always carry something of mine with you," you say gently. A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth as he tucks it under his armor. Since that day, he always carries the emblem with him, no matter where he goes.

Mayday

The moments you can enjoy in peace, you often have your legs tangled together while you crochet, covered with several of your homemade blankets, snuggled up together. Barton IV is a damn cold planet. Mayday likes to watch you and chat with you while you crochet. He is happy about every gift, scarves, gloves, hats, sweaters, because as I said before, it's damn cold on Barton IV and the Empire doesn't take very good care of its clones. His brothers also enjoy the little gifts you give them. You feel so sorry for the men who have to freeze so much at work every day. Mayday's heart is always beating faster when you crochet something new for him or his men. "You have far too soft a heart," he says gently. You smile and say, "Only because you keep it so nice and warm every day"

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

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@clonelovr

[primus-why]

Rom-Com Cliché -- Saying the Wrong Name at the Wedding

Idk why but I just imagined some post-war bonding ceremony shenanigans. Imagine the war has ended, and all Cybertronians are invited back to the planet to rebuild...

The tentative situation they're calling "peace" between Autobots and Decepticons is under constant strain, which was to be expected, but the returning NAILs don't seem to like the factions either. With tensions on the rise, Optimus and his advisors decide their best bet is to try and forge a fresh relationship with the NAILs-- after all, Optimis only ascended to the role shortly before the exodus. He'll show them that he's different than his predecessors! By extending a servo in genuine trust and a desire to understand, the Autobots and NAILs may find new allies in one another.

(Which, as Prowl points out, is a strategic military maneuver as much as it is a political one. By bolstering their allied numbers, it will make the 'Cons think twice about breaking the treaty and restarting the war.)

However, to their credit, Megatron and the 'Cons appear to throwing themselves into rebuilding efforts as much as anyone else. They even agree to share resources with the NAILs-- in exchange for labor or something of equal value, of course. Optimus can respect that. He knows Megatron believes actions speak louder than words, so it's encouraging to see the Decepticons making the effort to unify as well.

Slowly Optimus is put more at ease-- the three primary factions fall into a rhythm which sees the return of buildings for shelter and science, free-flowing energon, and nature reserves. As a result, he feels much lighter. The Matrix practically sings when he sits on a Council where they are productive!

Ironhide: Careful there, Prime. I think that grin might become infectious.

Optimus: Ha-- I keep forgetting how easy I am to read without my mask.

Megatron snorts. He was always able to read Prime just fine, even with a battle mask. The mech is too open and honest-- a quality the bit-brained Autobots admired in their leader.

But, even he had to admit, it's hard not to stare when the fool is practically beaming. It comes as a shock to no one that joy was not an emotion he often saw in his encounters with the Prime on the battlefield. 'It's natural to be curious,' Megatron reasons with himself; he simply isn't used to that bare face-- especially when it isn't weighed down by sad optics... or lips set in a hard line...

'... Scrap, what were they saying?'

Windblade: Is everyone excited for the festival?

'Ah.'

Starscream: Ughhhh...

Metalhawk: It doesn't have to be perfect.

Starscream: Yes it does. There's less than a deca-cycle to complete the spires. If they're not-- nevermind. I won't get into it here.

Megatron: Isn't the point of this Council to communicate our collective needs? I daresay Winglord-- there's no better audience to hear your party-planning woes.

Starscream: Hmph. Perhaps. But I'd sooner scan another Earth altmode than accept your aid... no offense, Prime.

Optimus: None taken.

Ironhide: In all seriousness, if you need materials--

Windblade: --or even more flightframes to assist in construction..?

'There we go.' Megatron huffed to himself in satisfaction, 'That prideful idiot.' He knew Starscream would never have allowed himself to ask for help unless he gave him a poke.

A festival. He hadn't been to one in many years-- never in Vos, and never as a free mech. The last time he attended had been on those rare occasions he snuck out of the Pits. A handful of times he had been lucky and stumbled upon a festival. Once he deliberately snuck out to orate a speech, before the authorities broke up the crowd and spoiled the atmosphere of the event.

'... Maybe I should give a speech, for old times sake-- with the added bonus that Starscream would absolutely abhor it.'

Optimus stole a glance at Megatron, who had begun to help himself to the snacks brought for the meeting. The two faction leaders were certainly on better terms with one another than at the start of the rebuilding efforts, though Optimus would hesitate to call themselves anything more than acquaintances. Which felt strange, considering how intimately they'd come to understand one another in the context of war.

'He did it again...' For someone normally so prone to posturing, Megatron was not opposed to a display of subtlety, especially when in service to others. Of course he continues to lean into grand gestures, and always makes sure he gets the credit he is owed for his work in rebuilding Cybertron... but in these small, almost inconsequential moments, he still looks out for others in his own roundabout way. He'd cede his floor time to someone who spoke on an issue he agreed with, essentially handing them a platform; he'd do what he did just now-- toss out some snarky jabs to get a conversation flowing; Optimus once even saw him purchase fancy fuel at a market, then hand half to a sparkling who had been eyeing the goods... though he tried to hide gesture.

The duplicity fascinated Optimus. Has he always been this way? Surveillance of Decepticon command and years of combatting the mech head-on suggested this was not the case. However, they held different roles now. Optimus knows he's changed since the end of the war... he can't help but wonder how Megatron has been changed too...

'... Wait, oh no, did Metalhawk just say something?'

Metalhawk: Speaking of Earth, I've been meaning to ask you about it for a while.

'Ah!'

Optimus: Yes, of course! What would you like to know?

Metalhawk: Having never been myself, I'm curious about your affection for it. You must hold it in high regard if you've maintained your altmode all this time?

Optimus: Oh! That's... well, yes. Despite the many unpleasant memories, I also made many fond ones that I will treasure. Even when I chose it, this alt just felt... right.

Metalhawk: I see. Would you be open to sharing some of those fond memories with me? Perhaps... at the festival?

'... Holy scrap. Is he asking what I think he's asking??' Despite his efforts Optimus can feel energon begin to rise to his face-- he hasn't been asked out since before he was a Prime! Distantly he is aware the room got quieter, save for Megatron coughing on a sweet that went down the wrong pipe.

Optimus: I should think there would be plenty of time, if we attended together.

Metalhawk: Then it's a date?

Optimus: Looking forward to it..!

Metalhawk takes his leave with a warm wave and a smile. Windblade and Ironhide gawk until he is gone before rushing to Optimus.

Windblade: Did you know that was going to happen??

Optimus: No, not at all!

Windblade: You handled it pretty well!

Optimus: Oh thank Primus. I don't know why I got so nervous all of a sudden. I speak to him nearly every day...

Ironhide: Ooooo, I'm telling Ratchet...

Optimus: Go ahead, it's not like I wasn't planning on telling my amica... preferable he knows before the press.

Ironhide: I was thinking more-so that he'd wanna squeeze you in, to check if your firewalls are up-to-date--

Optimus: -- 'HIDE!

Starscream: *ehem* Congratulations, Optimus Prime, you two make a handsome match. Now, if we could get back to planning the biggest event of the stellar cycle...

Fast forward-- past the festival, past the tabloids speculating on the nature Metalhawk and the Prime's relationship. The Autobots meet with Optimus once again. This time, some propose... a proposal.

That is to say-- a political bonding ceremony between the leader of the Autobots and a leader of the NAILs.

Ratchet thinks it's a bad idea-- much too soon for something so dramatic. It will seem farcical, an echo of a time long past where higher castes bonded to better their social standing. Optimus tends to agree.

But Prowl argues their festival date generated a lot of public approval. Having the people's high regard and trust is important in unstable times...

Prowl: Not to mention we'd secure our relationship with the NAILs. If the 'Cons ever stir up trouble, we'll be ready for them.

But Optimus isn't so sure of that argument anymore. Why would Megatron put so much effort into rebuilding, to personally have a servo in shaping their new world, only to destroy it again?

Optimus: ... Jazz? What do you think?

Jazz: ... *sigh* Honestly? I think a big, public-facing, cross-factional bond would go a long way towards helping things solidify. Feels more permanent... and obviously the 'Cons are off the table. So... why not Metalhawk? He's a nice guy, right?

Ratchet: Being 'nice' isn't all there is to it! Optimus has every right to bond with someone he loves..!

The 'Bots bicker, and Optimus has a moment to mull it over.

Finally, he speaks.

Optimus: ... I think... I could grow to love him. In time.

Ratchet: Optimus...

Optimus: It's okay, Ratchet. I accepted long ago that being Prime would require personal sacrifices.

Ratchet: ...

Optimus: Prowl, please prepare correspondence to Metalhawk. I want him to make an informed decision, so that I don't take this choice from him under false pretenses.

Ratchet exits without another word and doesn't return to the meeting.

Fast forward again-- to the day of the bonding ceremony. Metalhawk agreed (after making sure Optimus was of sound mind) to bond for the unification of Cybertron.

Anyone who is anyone is at this wedding. Councilmech, visiting dignitaries and ambassadors, the rich and famous. Sprinkled among them are genuine friends of the couple. Across Cybertron the event is broadcast live, and everyone waits with baited breath as the ceremony draws closer and closer to its conclusion.

Megatron made sure to sit on the end so he could beat the crowds to the open bar. In fact, he doesn't even stick around for the latter half-- why bother? He's already made his required appearance. Might as well crack open some high grade and head home early.

He eyes the solid fuel as well-- energon goodies and foreign sweets piled high for guests to choose from to their sparks content-- but he doesn't have an appetite. Hasn't for quite some time. He inspects his cube and spots the broadcast on a nearby holoscreen.

He sneers, frighteningly enough that the staff lingering in his line of sight make themselves scarce.

Megatron: I thought you were better than this. All that talk about forging our own bright future, and yet here we are. Lining up for the honor to dance in the shadows of a gilded past. Disgraceful.

On screen the couple turns to face each other, ready to recite the last portion of their fictitious vows before sealing the deal. Optimus, the self-sacrificing idiot-- still all too easy to read even in times like these if one knew where to look-- is putting on a brave face out of a sense of duty.

... He can't watch them do this. Instead, he turns back to lean against the bar and contemplate how far back this puts his plans for a free Cybertron... a world where high caste couplings are a thing of the distant past, and Primes can bond whomever they please...

Clergybot: To love and to cherish...

Metalhawk: To love and to cherish...

Clergybot: ... Until all are one.

Metalhawk: ... Until all are one.

Clergybot: ... And now I, Optimus Prime...

Optimus: I, Optimus Prime...

Clergybot: ... Take thee, Metalhawk...

Optimus: ... take thee, Megatron...

Megatron spits out his fuel and glares at the cube like it offended him.

'What the frag is in this--?!?'

But the gasps and murmurs of the crowd replacing the dull recitation alerted him to the fact that the ceremony... had stopped.

Optimus: I... I mean...

'Oh Primus...'

Cameras zoom in even closer, showing the Prime frozen in shock. The cube slips from Megatron's servo, shattering on the floor.

'Did he actually...??'

Metalhawk was stroking the Prime's servos that were still held in his own, whispering something blessedly inaudible, but the other mech eventually twisted them free.

Optimus: ... I'm sorry, I-I have to go.

Murmurs grew into a scandalized uproar as the Prime bolted from the altar and out the back of the temple. Metalhawk and the clergy attempted to placate them, but in time Metalhawk would leave to join the search party who had ran after Optimus.

Not before Megatron downed the rest of his drink and stole some snacks for the road (the reception wouldn't be needing them anyway.) He takes to the skies-- an advantage not many Autobots had on hand that would take too long to mobilize-- and opens a private comm channel.

Megatron:: Soundwave! Get me visual reports from the Westside of New Iacon, near the temple! Prime has escaped!::

After a beat, he realizes how that sounded. Old habits certainly do die hard.

Megatron:: He's fled the scene. Can you tell me which direction he's headed?::

Soundwave pings an acknowledgment. It doesn't take long to get his answer.

Soundwave:: Prime: headed towards Archives.::

Megatron:: The Archives? That's halfway across--::

Soundwave:: Clarification: The Old Archives.::

'Ah, that makes more sense.'

Megatron:: Thank you, old friend. What would I do without you?::

Soundwave:: Megatron: remain single forever.::

Megatron:: You-- wh-- that is not why I am pursuing him!!::

Soundwave:: ;) ::

Megatron hangs up and focuses on his flight instead, the impending conversation he'll need to have with the Prime looming ominously like a cloud.

[cielur5ww]

Idk, a modern Au Scaramouche being soft. It can be considered a gn reader, because it does not specify any pronouns... although I did it thinking of a reader amab.

Headcanons of Scaramouche and you, I think no pronoun is specified. Mention of hickeys, nothing explicit, Scaramouche is a proud.. (he is a bit silly)

Scaramouche bf! He doesn't understand in the slightest why you always put too much effort into decorating when you do your schoolwork, (half of him understands) what you do for aesthetics but to him, it seems unnecessary. (It's minimalist)

Scaramouche bf! Every time he gets upset (he's not serious) all he wants from you is for you to shower him with affection. He is hungry for affection, touch or words (better both to relieve that hunger)

Scaramouche bf! who always complains and snorts, annoyed because both of them live far away from each other. Although you see each other in classes and everything, he also wants to spend time with you alone, simply in your room, seeing what nonsense you will come up with today or simply a date at a cafe or walking through squares, enjoying the peace.

Scaramouche bf! who is actually called Kunikuzushi, but now to leave that painful past behind he calls himself Scaramouche, although he doesn't want anything to remember about his previous name... it really doesn't bother him in the least if you call him Kuni or kuzushi, because he is quite used to it. That you call him that, it's as if that nickname was simply made for him, so that you could say it through your lips with that stupidly sweet smile for him (ironic, right?)

Scaramouche bf! He definitely takes care of his skin, although he has almost absolutely no imperfections, he follows a skyn care routine, and he would like to guide you in this type of world of face and skin care if you didn't do it before!, but if you already did So you would like both of you to be together, each doing your own skin care routine.

Scaramouche bf! Good memory and he takes pride in it, but when something happens he acts like an idiot who doesn't know anything or doesn't remember it (he likes to bother you)

Scaramouche bf! Totally embarrassed if you go to the gym and one day you suggest that he sit on top of a bar to do chest exercises, and carrying his weight you do quite a few repetitions... (he gets embarrassed although he tries to maintain his defiant and mocking attitude.)

Scaramouche bf! He is surprised and freezes in a few seconds if you were to carry him so easily, he knows that he weighs little but the fact that you carried him without effort... surprises him and, clearly, he doesn't blush a little, he simply beams, telling you to put it down. And if you don't do it, and you carry him calmly like a princess... he will be with his arms crossed... maintaining an expression of annoyance but you can't take it seriously when that light blush becomes more and more noticeable on his cheeks, it's cute even though he's annoying.

Scaramouche bf! that his physical strength is below the average man (just a little) and sometimes he HATES asking you for help carrying things, because he is supposed to be independent and not weak. (In the end you approach him on your own, and you will have to insist on helping him until he finally says yes... but reluctantly, as if he could really carry that heavy box that, according to him, weighs 100kg ... or if you stop insisting, he will get upset anyway because you didn't want to help him.)

Scaramouche bf! who uses concealer to hide the hickeys that were stupidly dark, he doesn't even know how the hell he leaves you... that you leave him in this ridiculous state (He likes it anyway)

Just bland headcanons, sorry this isn't reviewed, just vague ideas. Any mistake... well it will be there

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— BUTTERFLIES AND HURRICANES

SUMMARY : Colt takes you out for a ride…

PAIRING : colt seavers x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, jokes and fun times, unprotected piv, fingering, handjob, maybe a kissing kink (idk if that's a thing)

WORD COUNT : 6.7k

A/N : title is a muse song. this is part of the @alphabetquest challenge — car sex! (heheh, I have a type) <333 the car has to be a 2022 ford shelby gt500 since it's the first image that popped up when I searched up Mustang in Canva, lmao. ALSO IM NOT DEAD YET AND THIS ISNT DEAN... I WAS SCARED TO WRITE ABOUT A NEW CHARACTER BUT I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT RYAN GOSLING SO IDK WHY THIS IS LONG SORRY xx

All you could think of was Colt Seavers.

You felt embarrassed with the way he occupied your mind, but it was impossible for you not to fall fast and hard for him. He was funny and sweet and romantic and caring and genuine. He made you feel young and careless, but not in a way that would bite you in the ass once you returned to Earth. 

You knew you could dive headfirst into him and his gorgeous blue eyes, and never be afraid that you've wasted your time.

To clear things up, you only felt embarrassed because you needed to get work done. Here you were, staring at the empty script that was waiting to be written, and all you could think of was Colt Seavers. You were embarrassed because, suddenly, all your stories, all your words, and all your characters contained an aspect of him. 

Your relationship with Colt wasn't a secret, but the director was expecting certain specific details and plots from you. And he'd know Colt was the reason for the change in your writing, and everyone would know, and Colt would know. 

And you weren't sure you were ready for that. Even if you were going steady with him, already shared intimate moments, and it was becoming the norm to wake up beside him. Even if he was effortlessly sweet, and perfect for creating a happily-ever-after with.

He was magical. Refreshing. Good. 

He was like a crisp sunshine in the early morning, never scalding, never freezing. Perfect for catching some vitamin… D… No… don't do that, body. 

You reached out for the cup of coffee beside your keyboard and lifted it up to your lips. You knew the caffeine wouldn't ease your overactive mind, but it would probably help you focus that energy on a specific task. You hoped very hard that it would be the case, and that you'd write something that make the director, and everyone else on set happy.

"Uh, you, whatever your name is, that's mine."

You stopped drinking and looked behind you, at Colt. He was trying to look serious. You resisted a smile as you licked some coffee from you lips. You looked back at the cup and rotated it to find his name written in black ink.

"I was just making sure it wasn't poisoned," you lied, allowing yourself to smile briefly. You turned around in your chair and held the cup out for him—your smile gone. "It's safe to drink."

"Oh, great," Colt beamed, and crossed the space to take the cup from you. "Wow, someone's boss thinks I'm special enough to save from poisoning." 

You stared up at him as he took a few sips, and you admire him, his glowing skin and… beard… remniscing about what it felt like all over your body when he'd kiss you. He stared at you as he swallowed his final sip of the warm caffeine, and you knew he was waiting for you to say something, but you kind of have nothing to say now. 

He's so adorable. And beautiful. And you should focus on writing, but the way he's staring down at you is making your heart race, and he bit his lip to hide his grin, and all you can think of… is how much you want him. 

"Maybe I should learn the name of the beautiful, brave, and selfless woman who almost died for me, possibly," he started up again, dramatic and very much flirty now. He held out his hand, you took it, and shook it once. You were about to say your name, but he set the cup back down on the table. 

You followed the movement, barley began looking back at him, wondering what he was up to, when he tugged you up out of your chair. You squealed as you crashed against his hard body and the smooth leather of his F1 suit. He released your hand to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, and hold you close to his chest. 

You looked up and found him smiling already. Colt kicked your chair out of the way and walked you back into the desk, but he didn't lift you up on it. He just kept you trapped between his warm body and the edge of the table, which dug into the bottom of your ass. 

"So… I can kiss you, right?" He wondered, staring down at your lips. He licked his own. "We're at that… you know, stage…? Where we do that?" The more he talked, the bigger you smiled, especially since you knew he was trying to actcasual. 

"We've fucked before, like… twenty times, I'm not counting, but I'm pretty sure it's around that much," you rambled. You definitely wanted a kiss from him, but he always managed to make your face hot and your heart beat at an insane rhythm. You didn't even know what the point of your sentence was anymore, but it caught him off guard and distracted him. 

"Fucked? That's a bit aggressive," he commented quietly, leaning closer. His hands squeezed your hips and you flattened your palms on his chest. Your breaths became heavy, as did his—quick and warm against your tingling lips. "I'd say it was more like making-"

"No, don't. I don't wanna hear it said that way." 

"But it was…" he bit his lip and looked into your eyes. "…like… that…" He lifted his hand and brushed your hair away, his hand rested against your jawline and your cheeks heated up. 

"Sometimes," you replied quietly, trying to maintain the playfulness. You shrugged. "There were those time where you bit me really hard and-"

He snorted. 

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he warned and began to dip down. You held your breath, suddenly, almost virginally, the anticipation of his kiss made you shamefully needy. He stopped, almost touching your lips, teasing you, so you felt his breath tickle your lips. 

Then, when you were at the apotheosis of hot, horny, and embarrassed, his lips pressed against yours. Your nerves and neurons exploded at his touch. The coarse hair of his beard and mustache tickled you, but that was what reminded you who you were kissing. 

Colt's hand clenched in your hair and his arm tightened around your waist to pull you impossibly close. Your knees weakened when he traced your lips with his warm tongue. You clung to the leather covering his body, breathed shakily against his mouth, and he tilted his face to deepen the kiss. 

His mouth met yours again, and his tongue was in your mouth this time. You tasted the sweetness of coffee in him and he tasted that sweetness in you. You felt lightheaded and your arousal skyrocketed, and you worsened it by sitting up on the desk and pulling his hips against yours. You moaned softly against his mouth at the contact, he groaned in response, and nibbled on your lip. 

Colt gently pulled your hair and dragged his mouth down your neck, his teeth and tongue followed, all the way down to your clavicle. Your hands moved upwards into his hair, threading through to tug at as you panted for air. Your body felt sensitive and fiery against his mouth, and his body, and his hands. 

He rolled his hips against yours, slid his hand down the back of your thigh to press precisely against your covered clit, all with his hand still tight in your hair. 

"Colt!" 

His name being shouted through the two-way radio ripped the veil of lust and contentment that kept you blind to reality. Colt grunted in irritation against your neck and brought his mouth back up to yours, ignoring the stunt coordinator. 

"Where are you? We're starting in five minutes!" You gently pushed Colt's chest and smiled against his greedy mouth. 

"We have five minutes," he mumbled against your lips. You laughed softly and kissed him firmly as a goodbye, but his warm and calloused hands sneaked beneath your pink blouse. You drew your mouth away from his, despite his complaints, and he licked his lips as he gazed down at you playfully. 

His hand untangled from your hair, he cupped your cheek instead, and slowly began leaning forward, waiting for you to stop him. 

"Colt," you whispered, placing your finger on his lips to stop him from diving back in. "You should go," you tried not to laugh. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist and leaned forward to kiss you deeply, then placed two soft kisses against your lips. "I'll see you later," you promised breathlessly.

His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, he his teeth sank into his own as if contemplating kissing you again. But he ended up conceding, "yeah, okay."

Colt udjusted his suit at the crotch area, then ran his fingers through his tousled hair. His natural hair was growing out so only the tips remained bleached from… being Tom Ryder's stuntman... You had a hard time believing his life story was anything but fiction, except there was plenty of evidence proving otherwise. 

"Wait, where will I see you?" He stopped and leaned against the door. 

"Here. I'll take you to- well, it's a surprise," you grinned playfully. "But it's a gift for me, mostly." You batted your lashes innocently at him. Colt shook his head and laughed, finally heading out. 

"Wait, your coffee!"

You were touching up the script, deleting and rewriting lines of dialogue and adding a few important moments that needed to be acted out, all while smiling to yourself as you recalled the way Colt subtly flirted with you any chance he got while standing behind the director. 

It was nice to steal a few moments with him when the opportunity presented itself. With Colt being who he is, he pretty much managed to make nearly every moment with you romantic to some extent. Sometimes it was seductive smiles with a hint of playfulness, long and innocent touches with undertones of sensuality. But maybe what you loved most was that he always managed to say something cute, romantic, sweet, funny, sexy, or dorky in a way that most definitely made you blush, somehow. 

You weren't going to lie, you were a little excited for tonight. So excited, in fact, that you quickly stopped by the hotel you were staying at to shower and put on a burgundy sundress rather than the jeans and blouse you'd been wearing earlier. 

There was a soft knock on your trailer and the door quietly opened, but Colt had already given himself away with a quiet hiss and an, "ouch." 

You shut your laptop while you grinned, ready to laugh at him for whatever he'd clumsily done—since he didn't often do anything clumsy on purpose. 

He must have gotten the same ideas as you, and gone back to his room to get cleaned up and put something clean on. And he had a small orange moon cactus in his hand; the other hand, he was inspecting carefully. He'd pricked himself. 

When he looked up at you, he was as stunned as you were. He dropped his hand after blindly kicking the door shut behind him, and slowly dragged his eyes down your body before returning to your face. 

"Wow, you look very pretty." Had the air not blown the scent of his cologne rushing to you, you would have been able to repsond with something as sweet and earnest as his compliment.

"So do you," you murmured, sounding dazed, unfortunately. Still, his cheeks turned bright and he laughed while holding the plant out for you to take. You took it from him carefully. 

"I know you said you hated flowers because they reminded you of funerals and hospitalisation, so I got you a plant instead," Colt explained. You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of you hearing that out loud, and coming from him, it was more funny. 

He joined in and chuckled softly, seeming a little unsure. 

"That's a pretty decent loophole," you sighed, and lifted the cactus so it was at eye-level. "It's cute." He shoved his hands into his jeans, stepped closer and looked down at it with you. 

"I named it Shirley," he informed you. 

"That's more adorable." Him, the fact that he named it, the name? All of it?

You stopped at the winding road that your friend had told you about. Had she not taken you and your two other friends to see the place, for a picnic date, you'd have never wanted to see Colt in your car, driving the way you've always dreamt of doing.

But here he was, well, he was in the passenger seat, but still. You were going to ask him to drive your car down to… nowhere in particular, just to live vicariously through him. 

"What's here? A serial killer cabin?" He looked over at you, a smile playing on his lips. Your eyes skimmed over his gorgeous face, his beauty somehow enhanced with the glow of the vibrant sunset pouring over his face. 

"I have a request," you started, watching him lean in close to you, listening intently for your words. He smelled so clean and soft and good—no, that's not the point. "Drive my car, you can stop whenever you want."

"That's… you want me to drive for any particular reason?" Colt looked down the empty road and then over at you, his blue eyes sparkled flirtatiously. 

Your heart began to beat swiftly again and your face heated up. "You know… When I was a kid, I wanted to be a NASCAR driver, and writing about an F1 driver is just… you know, do this for me?" 

"Really? You wanted to be a NASCAR driver?" He was on the verge of bursting out into laughter, but he also looked genuinely surprised at your confession, so you looked away and shrugged. 

"To be fair, I wanted to be a palaeontologist, elementary teacher, and fashion designer, too. Those option would've been… more awesome than… this," you mumbled, looking at the road as the sun hid behind seemingly endless hills and trees. 

"I think you're awesome right now," he whispered. You turned to him again, and became flustered by the softness on his gaze and his words. Your stomach somersaulted, he chewed on his lip, and you could've kisses him hard if your heart would've allowed you to relax.

"Shut up," you muttered bashfully. "I mean, thank you. What? Stop it," you looked away from him and he snickered. 

"I'll do it," he told you, giving you and your warm face a small break. He started to get out, and you fumbled with the seatbelt to meet him at the front of your car, where it was warmer compared to the cool breeze surrounding you and Colt. "If you wanna stop just tell me. Also, I'm gonna need a kiss," he teased and shrugged casually. 

You rolled your eyes, but how could you deny him? The air had been sexually charged the whole ride here, and now that you were stepping closer, you felt like you were being fused to him. Like a massive chemical reaction would occur as soon as you touched him. 

You closed the distance between you and him, on your tip-toes. Your hands gripped the colourful green and blue plaid shirt he was wearing, and his hands held your hips, clenching slightly. He waited for you, this time, as your breath mingled with his. 

The touch of your lips to his made you breathless instantly, and what was meant to have been an innocent and quick kiss became another make out session. With you on the hot hood of your car, with his fingers tangled in your hair, with yours buried in his hair, and his other sneaky hand lifting your dress higher and higher. 

"Colt," you breathed his name out softly. 

He released you instantly and licked the taste of your mouth from his lips. "Right, be professional. Totally."

"Not too professional," you smiled and slid down the hood with his help. "Anyway," you looked ahead and the darkening sky, "It's no Nürburgring, but we're not here to check my car's features. What I did check was the traction, it's all good… so…" You clicked your tongue and gave him a thumbs up, which he returned with a grin. 

You quickly entered your car and sat in the passenger seat, but when he entered the driver's side, his head hit the top of the roof and his thick thighs squeezed beneath the steering wheel. 

"My God… you are tiny," he murmured playfully, adjusting the seat and the mirrors. You snorted, slightly embarrassed. But as you watched him, your wondered if this was a good idea. You wanted to jump him and—no, please. "Alright, how attached are you to this car?" He joked, putting his seatbelt on while looking over at you. 

Colt was hot enough as it was, but being there in the car with him as he smoothly sped down the road, making sharp turns smoother than you could've done—you couldn't tell if your heart was racing because of the speed or because of how hot he looked beside you. 

You liked the way he handled your car, the way his hands moved adeptly over the steering wheel, the way his thighs became taut with every press on the brake and gas pedal. There was surely nothing more sexy than the sight of him concentrated and cautious, all at once, as he drove at speeds higher than you were brave enough for. 

He turned into an empty field and drove straight a fair distance into the tall-ish grass, at first. He was testing the ground, feeling it beneath the wheels as he turned and braked before moving the car in a circle, once and twice, then stopped. 

His chest was heaving and he looked alluringy flushed—you imagined that you probably looked similar to him. He relaxed against the seat, rested his hands on his thighs, and looked over at you with an exhilarated smile. He looked beautiful and unexpectedly relaxed. 

You smiled back, dazed and… aroused.

"Wow, that was…. you're… amazing," you sighed, looking out at the night sky, a slim orange line of light remained on the horizon. You were too embarrassed by your desire for him, but the darkening sky was distraction enough. For a few moments, the bright star that shined near the moon on the darkest side of the sky captured your attention.

"Not as amazing as you," he exhaled. His hand wrapped around yours and you turned back to him with a blush you wanted to hide extremely bad. 

What you really wanted most was for the warm throb between your legs to stop, so the moment could remain sweet and funny, but the way he looked at you, and the way his hand felt in yours was making you feel like you were on the verge of combusting. 

You pressed your thighs together and squeezed his hand subconsciously. Before you could attempt to brush it off as nothing, Colt leaned forward to capture your lips with his. The kiss was fueled by adrenaline and by the suffocating lust that had been engulfing you both since the morning. 

Typically, you would have pulled away to crack a joke and ease the sexual tension, but you were done with trying to stay away from him. There was no reason to continue being professional now that you were off set. 

So instead, you unbuckled your belt and then removed his own—more carefully, so it wouldn't slap painfully against his body. His mouth chased yours anyway and it made your stomach flip. You cupped his face to guide his mouth back to yours, ignoring the course tickle of his beard against your soft palms, and kissed him roughly. 

He moaned softly into your mouth, surprised, but kissed you back just as desperately. 

You felt him blindly turn the car off, and once he did, he turned to you fully, and quickly started to lift your dress up your legs. Your heart pounded in your ears while he squeezed your thighs. His teeth nipped at your lips, your soft gasp gave his tongue access to slip into your mouth, and slide against yours. 

Heat pooled between your legs, dampening your underwear. His warm hand was gripping your hip beneath your dress, so tight it made you moan as he expertly licked into your mouth. It was maddening and you only pulled away to regain your wits, to catch your breath, to see what he was currently feeling or thinking about the whole… You and him thing. In the car. 

"Do you wanna…?" He asked before you could, with his cheeks burnt red with a blush. You felt as hot and coloured as he looked, despite the chill of the night. You pressed your thighs together, feeling the wetness between your legs soaking your underwear, which only worsened by staring at the flushed and wrecked state of him. "We don't have to, it's up to you." 

Instead of responding, you shoved your dress upwards, and Colt leered at you as you lifted your hips to pull your underwear down your legs. He made you feel, possibly, hotter than you ever felt before, and made you act far more daring than you thought yourself capable of. You would never have had car sex in the middle of an empty field with anyone. 

But everything always felt right with Colt. 

"Are you sure?" He murmured, lips parting as he watched you climb over the middle and into his lap. He swallowed and carefully placed his hands on your thighs, grateful that you'd kept your dress lifted as you slid over to him. 

"Very sure," you reassured him, pecking his parted lips once. 

"Okay, cool, cool," he said, voice slightly shaky. You leaned close to him, holding the seat with one hand and trying to find the handle beneath the seat to recline it with the other.

Colt's mouth was on your neck instantly, beard scratching your sensitive skin, his playful and passionate mouth worked like heat conduction with your body. You'd held the handle, distracted by his lips and tongue against your pulse, it was when he pulled away that you mischievously pulled the lever. 

"Oh, fuck!" He exclaimed, attempting to sit up straight against the sudden movement. You tried to balance in his lap despite his shock and then he laughed, melting against the seat with his hands in his hair.

"Sorry, I thought it'd be funny," you laughed apologetically, playing with the button of his jeans. You leaned over him and brushed his wavy hair away from his blue eyes. 

"That was really mean," he chuckled. You apologised again, but he was laughing with you, and shifting beneath you until he was comfortable. His hands were back on your thighs and moving up higher, reigniting a heat between your legs. "Are you comfortable?" He whispered, watching your face as your eyes danced over his contently. 

"Mm-hmm," you nodded, caressing his cheek, just above his beard. "Are you comfortable?" Colt leaned into your touch and you tried, with one hand, to unbottom his shirt, only slightly exasperated by the sight of a white t-shirt underneath. 

You turned the light on above you have clearer sight of the buttons. He looked way prettier, even under the yellow light, like honey or gold. 

"It's kinda hot," was all he said. You smiled, felt his thighs become tense beneath you, and so you started to undo the buttons with both hands to get him out of the warm layers faster. "Can I… touch you?" He asked quietly, brushing his thumbs along your hipbones. 

"You are touching me," you teased, trying to focus on popping each button of his shirt out, and doing the same to his jeans. He shifted beneath you and flexed his hands impatiently on your thighs. 

"Can I touch you… everywhere else?" He was being playful, too, now, but if only he knew that the way he was touching you now was somehow turning you on. 

"If you get all this clothes off, then yeah," you replied, shoving the warm flannel over his broad shoulders. He chuckled and lifted himself up to shrug the warmest layer off his shoulders, and took the opportunity to kiss you. Your hands clenched the hem of his white t-shirt. You could feel his muscles tightening as he attempted to smoothly remove and throw his shirt in the back seat. 

You laughed against his mouth when he yanked it off his wrist impatiently, and eagerly began to pull his t-shirt up his muscled torso yourself. Your hands moved flat against his warm skin, feeling every hard and defined plane of his body with curious intensity. Colt smiled and hummed softly at the cool touch of your hands, his hips wiggled beneath you, urging you to go faster. When his shirt was high enough, he barley allowed your lips to separate, and instantly returned to kissing you. 

You threw the shirt in the back, brought one of your hands back down to his jeans, and carefully pressed your hand against his dick. He groaned against your mouth and his hips bucked upwards into your palm. A pulse shot through your clit at the sound and you gently kept rubbing your palm against him to draw more sounds from him and buried your fingers in his soft hair. 

"Please," he mumbled against your lips, pulling at your clothes, demanding that you be bare above him. Your stomach clenched and you let him drag your dress up your body, so you were sitting on his lap only in your bra. 

You breathed heavily, your skin flushed and prickled as he stared longingly at you. He pulled you closer with his hands on your hips, blunt nails pressing into your flesh. 

You leaned into him as he settled back into the reclined seat with your body as close to his as possible. 

"Kiss me again," he whispered, his baby blue eyes glued to your mouth, begging for it to be on his again while your hands wandered between your bodies to get rid of his pants. 

You dipped down to meet his greedy mouth with a singular firm kiss. 

"Colt," you murmured over his kiss-swollen lips, having half the mind to beg him to finally touch you. Except your breath hitched when he fervently leaned forward to capture your mouth with his, licked gently along your lip as an indication of his intentions, and carefully slipped his tongue into the rift made by your surprise. 

You could feel how slick you were, your neediness thrummed through your cunt and tingled across your skin wherever his body touched yours. 

You mindfully began unzipping his jeans as he devoured your mouth with so much passion your head felt light and your hearing was muffled by your heartbeat. 

His lips moved over yours hotly and his warm hands pressed tightly against the skin of your back. He adeptly undid your bra, threw it in the backseat as well, and ghosted his lips down your throat and sternum to kiss your breasts. 

You brought your hand inside his jeans, feeling the warm, thick hardness of his dick against your teasing hand over his briefs. He groaned and bit gently at your breast, and his hands trailed down your sides roughly. 

You couldn't take it, the feeling of his hot mouth, and the aching need between your legs, and the tingling sensation on your sensitive body following the touch of his skin. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, urging his mouth away from your spit-slick nipples. He grunted at the sharp tug of his waves when he ignored you, released your breast with a pop, and gazed up at you endearingly dazed. 

"What?" He asked with a playful smile, trying to hide the fact that he was more than enjoying teasing you. You tugged at his hair again, with enough force to draw a deep groan from him, and your cheeks flared up.

He bit his lip when you shoved your hand inside his underwear, your fingertips traced the length of him, feeling him throb and twitch. Colt whined quietly, his brows drawn together, teeth buried impossibly deep into his already kiss-swollen lip. You clenched around nothing and circled your thumb around the leaking tip of his cock. He shakily exhaled your name and lifted his hips into your hand. 

"I need you, Colt."

"Fuck… yeah, me too," he panted and started shoving his briefs and jeans down before you even got your hand out. You laughed softly at his enthusiasm and lifted your knee up to the padded console next to the seat to give him more space. 

You kissed him again, felt his smug smile against your lips when you tenderly cupped his face in your hands. He followed your mouth when you pulled away to drag your mouth down his neck and collar bone. Your hands moved down his warm skin, exploring what you could of his fit body. You licked at his skin, the dips of his throat, and grazed his collarbone with your teeth. 

Your hearing was entirely focused on his heavy breathing and breathy words. You felt his fingers move along the inside of your thigh and you sucked gently at his chest, then bit down on the hard muscle. 

"Shit," he grunted, and pressed his hand between your legs. His palm rested against your clit and his fingers circled your entranced. You gasped as your stomach summersaulted and heat spread through your body instantaneously. "You're so wet," he murmured, dragging his glistening fingers up to your clit. 

You lifted yourself up shakily, hands flat on his chest, and watched him. His blue eyes first swept over your face as he circled your clit, your thighs shook as you kept yourself up. He bit his lip before allowing his gaze to fall to your breasts and finally, between your legs where his fingers were busy. He looked so attractive beneath you, chest heaving and face flushed pink. 

You shuddered when he pressed two fingers into you, slowly and shallowly pulling them out and back into you, and never going as deep as you wanted him to be. Still, he curled his fingers inside you and your breath hitched. 

He kept the same rhythm and you flushed as the slowness somehow amplified the lubric sound of his fingers entering you. Your lips parted, shaky breaths slipped from between them, and your eyes fell shut for a few moments before opening again to criticise him. "You're driving me crazy, Colt."

"You look hot when I do that," he admitted unapologetically, and gave you a smirk. You squirmed and clenched around his fingers, embarrassed by his earnestness. And then he continued to tease you, watching your hips move and your body tremble when his thumb brushed against your clit just perfectly. 

"Stop that," you scolded, holding his wrist shortly despite the new layer of slick that dripped around his hand. He hummed softly and buried his fingers deeper into you. 

"What?" He asked with a grin, moving his fingers faster and pressing his thumb harder against your clit. The sound of your wetness nearly mortified you. "Is that better?" He asked softly, but still teasingly. Your stomach felt like it was free-falling and your thighs twitched, wanting to shut around his hand as your pleasure increased exponentially. 

"Please, just…" You leaned back slightly and dragged your nails gently along his abs. Through your hazey eyes you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gently slid your loose fist over him. 

"I heard you," Colt mumbled jokingly, jerking his hips into your hand. He gasped when you slid your palm over his wet tip and squeezed your hand downwards to spread his precum over the smooth and hot skin of his cock. He laughed and pulled his fingers from inside you. "Right, I was just- ah, fuck," he grunted, slightly thrown by the unexpected sensation of your thumb rubbing beneath the head of his cock repeatedly when your slid your hand upwards. 

"You're such a fucking dork," you mumbled, stopping your own tormenting touch to guide his cock between your legs. 

"Uh, yeah, and you're into that." He bit his lip and stared into your eyes, which glittered with amusement at his words. You watched him suspiciously and smiled a little. "I mean, there's also my six pack and when you see me naked, you start-" You interrupted him by sinking down on him, he choked on his words, and moaned with you as you slowly dropped yourself on him. You stretched around him, feeling deliciously full and hot with him throbbing inside you.

Colt gripped your hips tightly once you were fully seated on him. You smirked at the facial expression he made when you clenched around him in your own smug excitement and languidly lifted yourself up with your hands on his chest. 

"Let's keep kissing," he proposed breathlessly, bringing one of his hands up your shoulder, behind your neck, and into your hair to pull you forward. You couldn't help laughing at him, but allowed him to bring you down. His soft mouth parted slightly, ready for yours, making your stomach tingle.

His beard tickled your chin and lips when your lips collided, his tongue swiped over your teeth, then slid into your mouth to move against yours.

You lifted yourself up cautiously, nose brushing against his when you pulled away to find a comfortable position and rhythm. But Colt was serious about kissing you and lifted his head to reattach his lips to yours, and thrusted upwards into you.

You moaned into the kiss, forced to hover above him with his steel grip on your hip, and his hand clenched in your hair to keep your mouth firmly against his. He inched you up his body, hips angled slightly, and rolled his upwards experimentally, pushing his cock against your gspot and making it so you clit rubbed against him.

His name tumbling from your lips was muffled by his hungry mouth against yours, his tongue tasting as deep and thoroughly as he could despite the clash of teeth. He fucked you harder, panting and breathing against your lips to catch his breath before kissing you with so much passion you knew your lips would be sensitive in either a few hours or by tomorrow. 

"You feel so good, fuck," he grunted against your mouth and sank his teeth into your lip. You whined at the sting, but your stomach fluttered at his words. He licked your lip soothingly and let his calloused hands desperately wander over your body, occasionally flexing his hands over your skin. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter around him.

"Colt, I-" you whimpered, moving your mouth away from his to bury your face in his neck, feeling the unabated force of your orgasm approaching. His hips stuttered when you sucked softly at his throat and he breathed out your name. You inhaled the scent of him, the shampoo, and body wash, and shaving cream nearly masked by the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. 

"Please… wanna see you," he exhaled the words unevenly, nuzzling against the side of your face. His breaths and grunts against your ear made you shiver and tighten around him. 

You were too stupefied and saturated with pleasure to lift yourself up, but when his fingers drove into the flesh of your hips and his thrusts became sloppy, all you wanted was to watch him fall apart beneath you. 

You lifted your flushed face and steadied your forearms on his broad shoulders, meeting his glossy blue eyes, his rosy cheeks above his beard. His warm breath fanned over your face and you stopped seeing sense in continuing to edge yourself on him. 

Pleasure washed over you, his name and praises dropped from your lips in desperate sobs. You clamped down and pulsed around him as you came, trying to fuck yourself slower on him to drag your orgasm out. He cursed against your open mouth and pleasure contorted his handsome face. 

His hips snapped upwards and he held your hips down as he twitched and spilled inside you. He grunted your name and helped you ride out your orgasm with him. You were out of breath and your thighs were burning from the position you were in, but your body was tingling with so much numbing pleasure, that you didn't care.

You watched him become more gentle again as he came down from his high with you, that sweet smile returned and his adoring blue eyes turned softer. It made your head spin, the way he looked at you. And right now, you could see all the jokes and loving words taking shape in his mind as he caught his breath.

You took his face in your hands, pressing tender kisses over his cheeks, forehead, nose, and anywhere you could reach. He was smiling the entire time, almost triumphantly, but he looked more shy than ever.

"Was it that good?" He teased anyway, smirking playfully. 

"I don't like you," you lied, dropping your hands to his chest.

"Liar," he accused, pressing your hips closer to him. Your sensitive core jolted and he stifled a groan, sensitive and soft inside you.

Colt sat up, breathing slowly against your lips, but he didn't kiss you this time. His fingers ghosted gently down your back and rested on your waist. "Wanna eat some burritos?"

You stared down at him, his blue eyes shining from his orgasm, his face flushed and alive from the afterglow, his wavy hair a sexy mess, and his lips red and plush. 

You bit your lip and looked back up into his eyes. He looked wrecked and… happy. It was endearing. It caused a fiery heat to blaze up your chest to your cheeks. "Y-yeah, sounds, uh, that sounds nice."

He stared at you and you stared back, wondering if you'd given yourself away; the fact that you really liked him. 

"What?" He smiled, looking at you curiously. 

"What?" You shrugged, flustered and pretending that you didn't just realise that you really really liked him. Okay, you loved him. "I said yes."

"Hmm," he tilted his head, eyes moving slowly over your face. You tensed in his grasp and blazed with embarrassment. Run away. You lifted yourself off him, ignoring the dribble of cum slipping down your thighs and over his cock. 

You laughed shyly to yourself, slipping away into the passenger seat, where you started to feel the ache in your body as you relaxed. You tried to ignore him, and listened only to him readjusting his jeans and briefs. 

"What were you thinking just then?" He wondered, leaning over to take your chin in his hand and force you to gaze into his stupidly pretty face. 

"Absolutely not!" 

"What? Please, tell me," he begged. You shrugged and kissed his palm before turning away to retrieve your dress and underwear. "I'll kiss you," he offered. 

"You'll kiss me either way," you smiled, pulling your underwear up your legs. 

"That's true. You're lips are very soft and they taste like roses and they feel like roses, too, and your mouth is always minty. Do you eat?" He rambled, his gaze focused on your mouth. "I mean, of course you eat, I was just wondering-"

"Okay, I'll tell you," you cut him off, your heart began racing at just the prospect. He perked up, but you just couldn't fold. "As soon as we get those burritos! Buckle up, cowboy, I'm hungry." 

He deflated slightly, but then he smirked, watching you put your seatbelt on. "Can I at least put my shirt back on first?"

"No, I think I can see a little better in the dark when you're shirtless," you jested, dreamily trailing your hand down his bare chest. His muscles became taut under your touch and he released a breathy laugh. 

"I'm driving," he reminded you quietly. 

You brought your hand up to his jaw and smiled, scratching gently at his beard. "Whatever," you shrugged, "my car, my rules."

You were about to move your hand away, but he took your hand in his, pressed your small palm into his cheek, and looked at you through his lashes. "I think we should kiss."

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[quirrrky]

—•✦ WORKMATE KUROO

KUROO headcanons as your office senpai who's so fond of you it could be a crush...

≡ NOTES: just indulgent hcs which might have part 2 idk all upnto y'all if you ended up liking...happy kuroo month!

Catches your eye the very first moment you were introduced to each other

Thinks it’s cute whenever you avert your gaze from him, but how could you not when he always looks his best around you.

Keenly observes you. Your cute habits get his attention. Will always notice the little quirky things you do just to spark up a conversation.

“What’re you eating?” he asked, smiling adorably. “Looks yum.”

You view him as your super cool and nice senpai whom you’ve come to admire.

Calls out to you whenever he sees you eating alone. He’ll invite you to come join him instead.

He often tries to catch your attention but you act so shy or hesitant around him, but it doesn’t stop him for trying even harder.

Handles you with so much care. Soft spoken when around you and doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.

Such a gentleman, opens up the door and always lets you enter first whenever you’ll end up walking together.

Carries heavy stuff for you and does even the smallest things just so he can “assist” you.

Always tries to include you in group conversations so you won’t feel left out.

Whenever someone teases you he always come in your defense.

“Hey, hey, now...Y/N’s a tough one so don’t you dare.”

When a male coworker from other department will look for you, he’ll act ridiculously protective.

“You’re looking for Y/N? I’m her senior. What do you need?” (lol)

Remembers the things you’ve said you like and use it so he can have a conversation with you.

Whenever you’ll unintentionally stare at his direction while deep in your thoughts, he’ll tilt his head smiling and will ask you if you’re okay. He’ll chuckle so attractively afterwards.

Waits for you to go home first so he could say good bye.

Once you become closer, he’ll gradually be more physical, but in a “friendly” way since he's very considerate of you like placing an arm on your shoulder to ask if you’re alright, nudging your arm when he wants you to look at something, leaning closer to you during picture-taking.

“What’s that? May I see?” he asked and leaned forward to look closely at your screen with his cheek so close to yours as he did so. His crisp signature scent lingering in your senses and would be something you probably won’t forget. “Good job as always, Y/N,” he beamed, placing a hand on your shoulder and you melt.

© quirrrky 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

[ronearoundblindly]

Feel free to ignore this… but any further (descriptive) thots on what the first time Ari calling reader Mrs Levinson would be like?!

I just can’t get the thot of tender love making out of my brain after reading the 3+1!

Please no pressure at all! Just wanted to let you know how much this Ari lives rent free in my brain 😵‍💫💙

Ari Levinson x bestfriend!Reader (now wife) from Bedrock and Blueprints series

woah. so. good lawd, i got all up in my own feels for a while and shrank my world down to just reader and this guy:

An expansion of the the last part of this. Warning for sexy times in the most loving way. MINORS DNI. WC 1.3k

A/N: holy sh*t. don't @ me if you hate this and hate terrible puns because 🙈 idk what happened...

Your relationship keeps evolving.

You started as distant acquaintances, sharing a friend but not much else. Soon, though, you and Ari found common ground and mutual respect. Slowly, the two of you learned more about each other and grew comfortable, playfully jabbing at each other's bad habits and blind spots.

You only ever wanted the best for one another.

It took a long time--many people would say too long--to WANT one another, and old habits die hard.

The strangest part of your wedding day is how easy it is to fall into the 'friend' pattern again. You're executing a planned day, hosting guests in your home, coordinating care of your baby. Ari's helping. He always does.

The ceremony is short and sweet, the party after a simple barbecue. It hardly feels...special.

On the other side of the lawn, Ari shows a few of your coworkers Rachel's favorite face he makes, and your daughter howls in joy, grabbing at Daddy from her perch your cubicle-mate's arms.

They're too far away to hear, but you can read Ari's body language pretty well after a decade.

What's wrong, honey? You love looking out at a crowd.

See? See all these people? They're here for you. For us. For...

Ari's eyes meet yours, his bottle of beer becoming an anchor in his outstretched hand. He beams.

...mommy.

You give a tiny little wave just as he gets ambushed by a few more guests cooing over Rachel. Ari is tall enough that you can see his gaze never leaves you, even when he's surrounded, even when he mutters an answer to a question, even as he pats shoulders and backs until he's out of the throng.

His radiant smile washes over you like the warm breeze on this perfect day. His feet land in time with thuds of Boyd and Dimitri battling it out on the cornhole boards, and the women flanking you twitter appreciative giggles as if putting voice to your heart's fluttering.

Ari is, well, damn fine to look at.

"Hey," he breathes heavily once making his way to you. "You wanna--" he gestures behind you to the house "--for a sec?"

"Oh, sure." You scramble to think what more could be missing from outside. Are the drinks running low? Is the grill ready for the next round of food? Does Rachel need a toy or maybe a hat?

He leads the way to open the door for you, and that's when you notice Ari's starting to sweat through the t-shirt he changed into after the ceremony. He's never been a fan of the penguin suits. As he puts it, "they rent them for a reason. Nobody wants to own one of these."

Whether for the entertainment or just to cool himself off, you assume Ari's heading for the kitchen and turn accordingly before an arm snaking around your waist hauls you backward.

"Not so fast, gorgeous," he snips in your ear, a familiar playfulness in the words warming down your spine.

"What are you doing, Ari?" you laugh, letting him man-handle you down the hall to the bedroom.

He touches you down gently beside the door and shuts it behind him quietly. Those pearly white teeth and bright blue eyes keep shining.

"Just taking a minute," he whispers, stepping closer, dragging his finger around your ear to move a bit of stray hair, "just for us."

His focus holds yours for a long time. The rough pad of his thumb traces the height of your cheekbone. A sheen of perspiration glistens on his temple. His flush glows pink even on the skin between beard hairs. Ari's tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip.

Mixed with the muffled sound of your party outside, it's hard to tell his breathing has changed, but when your own eyes stop roaming the rest of his face, you see welling tears.

"Sorry, I don't know why..." Ari's cracking voice trails off. He sniffs and plants his hands against your hips to steady himself.

It makes your head spin.

"Sorry I took so lo--" but you don't let him get the words out.

Friends don't let friends cry over wasted time, no, because none of it was wasted. Learning about each other is necessary. Respecting one another is crucial. Laughing at the little things and the stupid things is essential. Everything happened just as it should.

You pour your approval into the kiss, tossing your arms around his neck and climbing him like the steadfast, rooted tree he's become, the centerpiece he is in the forest of your life, and Ari weathers the assault with gusto.

He sways with that changing wind of desire to lay you on the bed, shading you with his broad body and dangling hair, cocooning you both in your own little world, hot and heavy and light as a feather.

"I love you," he says as his wide palm explores up your skirt. "I love you," he says as two fingers move your panties out of the way. "I love you," he says as he discovers just how long you've been waiting for this touch.

"I love you," you repeat, undoing the fastening of his shorts. "I love you," you repeat, pushing them to the ground. "I love you," you repeat, taking his length in your hand.

"Please, Ari."

He hisses in tortured excitement. "Yeah?" In a flurry of fabrics, he's yanking your skirt around, tucking your leg up high over his waist as he climbs on the bed, too. "You want me, gorgeous?"

You like how much he leans into your new nickname; he's tried to ween himself off calling you 'kid' now that Rachel exists.

"Need you." Your words sound whiny and desperate because they are. "Need my husband."

The groan Ari lets out would wake the neighbors. Thank g-d there's a party outside...

He's so careful entering you, giving you time to stretch for him, giving him time to listen to every sated breath you both take. He pulls down the zipper at your side and peels your dress back, further exposing you. He loves how sensitive your nipples are since having a baby, but he also knows how much you hate these bras. He takes a moment to unhook you and fling that shit across the room, relishing your happy sigh of freedom.

"There's my wife," he chokes out, propped on his hands above you, surveying the bare beauty before him. His shirt is loose and wrinkled from where you've been gripping it for dear life. The shimmer of tears is back in his eyes--just for a second--until you bring him down to kiss again.

Once fully sheathed inside you, Ari sets a rhythm to mirror your whole relationship: slow and playful. He works to make you laugh, to make you fight him just a little bit because he's being silly. He flicks at your nipples and mouths at your shoulder. He only has one care in the whole world and for all time until--

Ari growls into your neck when there's a knock at the door.

"Just took the last bottle out of the fridge for Rachel, dearie. Thought you should know," Momma Joe's sweet old voice vibrates through, but you hear her footsteps fade quickly.

"'Spose that means I need to pump..." You toss your arms out in defeated frustration.

"Nah-uh," Ari shoots back, gathering you into a firm hold, pressing himself that much deeper inside you. He drapes that bubble of attention over you again, intent and adoring. "Right now? Right now you're mine, Misses Levinson."

He rolls his hips back, cock inching out of you, covered in your slippery arousal.

"And I need to pump--" he thrusts forward, the heft of him making your head loll back on the sheets "--again...and again...and again..."

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @royalwriteroftheuniverse @jamneuromain

[enterwittyjokehere]

hii, i’m soz idk ur request rules i couldn’t find them 😖. if any of this is out of boundaries lmk! I was wondering if I could request an angst/comfort-> smut on Gale?

Professor!Gale with his student (afab!reader) at wizard college yk. the student is super good with the work but they get depressed and miss class. Gale is concerned bc he adores all his students! he checks up on reader and helps them into a better headspace. one thing leads to another and reader opts to “return the favor” yk.

Gale is not Mystra in this!!! College professor! The groomed does not become the groomer! everything reader does is not because Gale has sum sort of power over them. they just like him! teacher crush fr!

anyways! sorry for ranting. if I could write for shit i’d do it but ur stories are SOOO good!

Sorry it took a bit to get out, life got in the way, I'm gonna be trying to update more frequently I have two more requests to push out and ab three drafts that I've started and haven't finished.

You didn't mention what gender or pronouns to use so I assumed afab, sorry if that's incorrect. I did have some fun with this one, the more I get into my Baldur's Gate playthrough the more I adore this man lol.

So enjoy~

After Class

Professor! Gale (of waterdeep) Dekarios x Afab! reader smut

⚠️Warnings⚠️

[College professor x student]

[Mutual pining]

[Dealing with issues via self isolation]

[Hurt > comfort]

[Alluding to masturbation]

[Teasing]

[No foreplay]

[Doggy]

[Breeding press]

[Mention of aftercare]

[18+ only]

“Deep breaths, you can do it.” Your professor, Gale Dekarios, stood behind you, holding your arm up.

-He had offered to help you practice a difficult spell you've been having trouble with. After class was over you had approached his desk and explained what spell you had been struggling with. 

Like the kind man that he was he accepted, telling you that while it was a troublesome spell you had enough mettle to learn it-

You said the incantation and with the added power of your professor you successfully casted the spell you had been having a bit of a hard time with. Your eyes widened as you beamed, looking up at your professor who had a sparkle in his eye.

“See, I told you, you could do it!” he smiled down at you, you stared into his eyes and your heart raced. You enjoyed the tenderness in the moment, before a small magickal ringing gained both of your attention. It sounded from Gale’s desk, he sighed, looked past you and turning the ringing off, “Sadly, that marks the end of our after class session.”

He put a couple scrolls he had laid across his desk into a small bag, you spoke in a small voice, “it's a little early, yeah?” 

“Umm yeah.. I have a few things I need to take care of.” Gale stumbled over the question, his eyes traced up your body and gave you a small smile, “But you did wonderful, like always, you'll get it yet.” 

A smile pulled at your lips, face heating from the remark, “I hope so.”

You had turned to grab your bag, being halted by Gale's voice, “Don't leave yet, I'll walk you out.” 

You nodded your bag falling onto your shoulder, the scrolls inside ruffled as you moved. Gale finished gathering his things, wrapping a small amulet around his neck before walking up to you.

He opened the door for you, smiling as you walked through. Walking through the hallway of the college, Gale seemed on edge but made small talk well enough to hide his obscured feelings.

“You've studied for that upcoming exam, yeah?” He asked, opening a larger set of doors. 

“Yes, sir. My arcane lock is the best in the class.” You cheered, smiling up at him.

For the first time all day Gale didn't have a smile on his face, usually his tied back hair was accompanied with a goofy smile and a kind demeanor. Your heart ached, you wanted to know what was going on, your fear for your professor sprouted little seeds of worry into your mind.

Both of you arrived at the waypoint, you went your separate ways. That was the last time Gale had seen you, when the next day arrived and you weren't in class, he had shook it off to you weren't feeling good. 

Day after day, until the day of the exam, you still had not shown face. Gale was worried and you being absent the day of the exam on the best spell in your arsenal only made his fear more present.

He had asked other students if they had heard from you, all only shook their heads, meaning you've basically disappeared without a trace. 

The professor's fear only grew as days went by, you had still not returned. Gale's fear trickled into full blown paranoia as the days went on, keeping him up at night and making him sick to where he couldn't keep food down. Gale had a soft spot for all of his students, even the naughty ones, yet you were one of his prized pupils. You were older than most of the rest of the class, eager to learn and listen, good at taking criticism, Gale was by no means a divination-heavy wizard and, yet even, he could see that you would go on to achieve great feats. 

Perhaps that was why he did it, Gale just needed to rationalize what part of him initiated the idea. Here he was fully in action, knocking on your door, away from the university, in his regular clothes. His face was deep and tired, stress had begun to sink into every fiber of him.

His knuckles knocked sharply against the dark wood of your door, a deep sigh released as he nervously waited for an answer. 

Almost perking up when he heard the soft, “Just a second.” that you had yelled in response. Scattered scuttering noises sounded from inside the apartment, Gale had no idea what you were doing, but hearing your voice brought a smile to his tired face.

When the door finally creaked open, your eyes widened in shock, “Professor-?” 

You looked behind him, seeing that he was alone, “What are you doing here?” 

Gale couldn't speak for a moment, he took the sight of you in. Before he frowned and began to explain, “You've been absent from your classes, at first I assumed you had fallen ill but after a few more absences and no hide nor hare of you, I became… Worried.”

A small smile shown as your face lit up, “Well, I'm fine, just going through a ‘rough patch’.” You turned slightly, welcoming your professor into your home.

He followed suit, walking in, “I really shouldn't stay long, I've quite a lot of work to do.”

“You should at least stay for a cup, I just put the kettle on.” You followed your professor deeper into your home.

Gale glanced around the small rooms, taking in all of your decorations, finally coming to a small couch. He sat on the edge of the couch, waiting as you sat in an armchair across from him.

“Is it pointless to ask for you to come back to class?” Gale asked, leaning forward.

“... No.” The word was released in a breath, “I just can't… not right now.” 

“Why not?” Gale asked, but slowly retracted leaning backwards, “I don't mean to pry, I just want to help, your education is important to me… You are important to me.”

“It's just hard. Right now, I have a lot going on.” You said, sighing.

Gale opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a stout whistle from the kettle, you lifted a hand, “Excuse me.”

Standing to your feet, you left Gale in the room by himself. Coming back with a small metal tray of fancy cups, setting it down on the table that separated the two of you. 

“Sugar is in here, please, take what you want.” You instructed, lifting the top off of a small ceramic container.

“Thank you.” Gale said, looking at you instead of the tea.

“We would really love to have you back in class, you can take the exam you missed and make up the work.” Gale started, ignorant to the way your heart sank as he muttered on, “with your natural talent, you'd have no issues getting back on track.”

“Yes. My Talent.. is why I'm not going back to wizard school, Professor Dekarios.” You paused from your explanations, taking a long sip of your tea, “I've recently felt like my whole world view has come crashing down around me, my whole life I've been naturally so good at spells and magick. I thought I had to be a wizard… I didn't know any other way…”

Gales eyes peered into your own, “It's not the magick you have a problem with… it's you, you think you may be…”

“A sorcerer… it's only a theory, however.”

“My class would still be open to you. I will help you grow however you see necessary and I'm sure a couple books and scrolls wouldn't hurt your newfound identity.” Gale's smug simper helped ease your pain.

Hells him just being there helped you feel immensely better, “if I was to come back to class and still go my own path, wouldn't it be like betraying the weave?”

“The weave is something we utilize, you cannot simply betray it and I'm sure the magick you hold will not mind what path you go down.” Gale said, reaching out to hold your hand.

“Thank you, professor.” You said, smiling at him. 

Gale stuck around and talked with you for a while, not all about magick, but he does have a large interest in the subject. Once the sky had turned dark purple and was littered with the freckles of stars, he thought it best to head to his own home. He chuckled as he walked out your door, turning to give you a small smile, his eyes beaming, “Thank you for having me… And thank you even more for sharing your troubles with me. The fact that I was able to help means more to me than you could ever comprehend.”

“Please, professor, I should be the one thanking you… I was really going through it…” you spoke, rubbing the back of your neck.

After your exchanged goodbye's Gale left, and once again your home was silent, you were alone. Only your thoughts to keep you company now, you thought back to how his hands fit around the small teacup he was holding. How comforting it felt when he grabbed your hand, how for once, his eyes were solely focused on you… You wished it could be like that more, how you craved him deep at night. 

But fantasies are usually just that, fantasy, fiction… fake. Tonight, however they were your comfort, you writhed beneath the covers imagining Gale giving into you. You wondered what pet names he would give you, what habits he would have when he loved you deeply. 

The next day you went back to school, sitting at your abandoned desk, your satchel fell from your shoulder and students began to whisper. Looking over at you and facing one another once again, pointing and speaking indistinctly. It was to be expected it didn't affect you in anyway… however, when Gale stepped up to his pedestal, looking straight at you and fighting to keep a smile down, then you felt something. 

The fires of the nine hells burned inside your stomach, a hand found its way to your cheek, to prop your head up and hide the reddening that quickly spread over your face. Gale went on with class like usual, teaching, talking, rambling, whatever way you chose to say it, it was always the same. You enjoyed it, being such a well learned man was attractive and the way the words rolled off his tongue like a liquid nectar made the experience much better.

Once class was over and you had tucked a couple of your scrolls into your satchel, Gale spoke up, “Ms. (Y/n)” 

You quickly turned to face him, locking eyes with him, “stay after class and we'll discuss your make ups, yeah?” 

You nodded, “Yes, sir.” 

“Wonderful.” He said, you stayed at your desk as students piled out, after the last one you stood up approaching his own desk.

“You're feeling better, I hope.” He spoke, his voice now softer, than when he was teaching.

You nodded, smiling, “Yeah, you helped me a lot, professor, I'm very thankful.”

“Please, as I stated before… I'm just glad I could help.” His large hand once again found your own, giving a reassuring squeeze. It was a kind gesture, but it was one that ignited that fire in you.

“I'll have to repay you, some day..” You spoke, smiling slightly at the thought that popped into your head.

“No, no, no need, You being here is repayment enough.” He spoke smiling, only to cock an eyebrow at the blush you now wore.

“Yes, but it would help me feel better about the whole situation…” 

Gale paused before speaking again, “what did you have in mind?” 

“I could always help you out… You know… to return the favor?” Your eyes flickering up to meet Gale's own. Your teeth latched onto your lip, pulling it into your mouth looking at his hand on your own. For a moment Gale's eyes widened before he pulled his hand away.

A myriad of  inappropriate thoughts flooded the professor’s mind, evident only by the red hue his face took on. A small smile played at his lips a sweet contrast to the simper that littered your own plush ones. Shaking his head, Gale's big brown eyes bore into you, “As much as I would absolutely adore that…” He paused, wincing at the words he was about to say, “ I cannot. If anyone found out I wo-” 

“No one has to know, Sir.” You interjected, keeping eye contact, your confident facade faltered for a moment. Beginning to move away from your teacher, you nodded slightly, “-but I understand, you do have more at stake here than I do..” 

Gale's eyes flickered through emotions at lightning speed, confusion seeped into his features followed by shock and finally he landed on regret, “W-Well. Let's not be hasty now..” 

His hand reached out to you again, as you raised an eyebrow, curiously, at your teacher, “Professor, what exactly are you getting at?” 

“If it's strictly a one time thing and no one would know then… I assume it would be okay to-” softly stumbling over his words Gale's eyes landed on your soft figure, biting his lip, praying that you understood his incessant ramblings.

You nodded slightly smiling brightly, “Just tell me when and where and I'm there, professor.”

“I have two more lectures today, you can meet me after and we can go to my tower, if you would like.” 

“Yes!” You said, loudly, your excitement causing gale to Shush you. Apologizing you still nodded, “Yes, I would love that, sir.”

The rest of your day dragged on as your mind found itself hoping for what was to come, when the time had arrived you met Gale outside of his room. Leaning against the wall, you hadn't even noticed him, you were reading a scroll and focusing on the movements it instructed. Only for gale to grab the parchment and gain your attention, “A bit of difficult Magick, right here… where'd you get this?” 

He was so close to you, leaned against the door frame, his body facing you as he glanced over the spell. Absentmindedly taking his lip between his teeth, his eyes pensively traced the scroll. Before he glanced back over at you, handing it back to you.

“A little shop near my house, just a goal I'd like to set for myself.” You explained as the two of you began your walk, tucking the parchment back into your satchel.

“I could always help you..” Gale offered.

“I would like to figure it out on my own, I think.” 

“That's understandable, when you get the hang of it you'll have to show me.”

“Of course, professor.”

“Please, for tonight, call me Gale.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Okay, Gale.” A small and nervous laugh left with the name.

Once the two of you arrived at his door, ending the short commute, he flicked his hand and the door swung open. The candles lining the walls all flicked to life as you walked in, it was like a fancy library, bookshelves lined the walls and little trinkets sat on top of them. You were taking the scenery in as Gale dropped his bag, it fell to the ground with a thump.

“Before we begin, I can make some tea, if you would like.” He said, “and I have some biscuits.” 

You nodded, following him into his kitchen, you sat in a small chair as he paced around the kitchen collecting small items and preparing the water. He was speaking to you about magick, but not in his usual teacher way. Now he was more like a friend indulging you in his interests, “but surely to a student as talented as you, my experiences probably seem trivial.”

“Of Course not, professor.” You said, replying without even thinking.

“What was that?” He said, stepping closer, now towering over where you were seated.

“Sorry, Gale, but it doesn't seem trivial, not in the least..” You spoke, swallowing deeply.

A simper had crawled onto his face, smirking down at you, before the whining tea kettle called for him. He quickly glanced over his shoulder before looking back at you, “Just one second, love.” 

You nodded the word ‘yeah’ ghosting on your lips, but breathlessly, no words could escape you. It felt almost as if he enjoyed teasing you, between the moment with the scroll earlier now this, blissful agony one could call it.

Gale poured water into the two cups of tea, letting them steep. He walked back over to you. A finger ghosting on your chin, lifting your chin slightly, looking in your eyes, he smiled, “ready?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, “F-For?” 

“For tea…” He spoke, placing a kiss to your lips, “what else?” 

He smiled as he brought a small tray closer to you, two tea cups and a plate of pastries sat on the tray. 

You hastily drank your tea, meanwhile Gale sipped his, watching the ways you moved around in your seat. When he drank the rest of his drink he stood to his feet clearing the dishes away, “I'm going to clean this mess up, the bedroom is through the stairs and to the right, you can't miss it, get comfortable.”

“O-okay.” You said, scampering up the stairs, you walked into his bedroom, the bed in the center was huge, you laid down on it, the plush blankets were soft and cool. You began undressing and crawled under the blankets, laying down comfortably. 

After a few moments of you laying there, the door swung open, Gale was also undressed, he crawled over the bed, laying over the blankets on top of you. 

Placing small kisses on your lips and trailing them down your neck, “Get up, and on your knees.” He growled.

You did as he said, standing on your knees, he pushed you down onto your hands and knees, getting behind you he slowly stroked himself before pressing into you. You moaned painfully, inhaling sharply, Gale did not give you time to adjust. He was driven feral by how warm and wet you felt, just for him. You were all for him and Gale was loving every part of it, his pace increased with every moan you gave him. 

Roughly pushing into you, “Yes, take it just like that, such a good pupil.” 

You moaned out beneath him, unable to form words as he ravaged you, placing kisses down your back, his hands held onto your forearms. The two of you rocking against one another, it wasn't long before your legs began to shake. 

“Gale, please.”

Your quivering voice was clouded by your ecstacy as you constricted around Gale, who groaned as he continued to pump into you. Your legs gave out, falling onto the bed, Gale lowered too, laying on top of you, “Damn, already?” 

Gale didn't stop, he milked your orgasm, rocking into you, stopping only to pull out and pat you on the leg. His hand traced your thigh. Before he rolled you over, you helped him, and Gale moved to stand up, still panting he pulled you closer to him. 

You were now on your back, Gale leaned down over you, placing your thighs on his shoulders, he placed another soft kiss to your lips.

“Is this what you think about during class?” Gale asked, pressing back into you.

“S-sometimes…” you admitted, Gale began to rock into you, “Ah-! Gale.” 

He pressed your legs to your chest, his face buried in your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive area. The easy access to the sweet spot made your mouth water as Gale audibly moaned into the crevice of your neck.

His moans were loud and breathy, chasing his own release, his thrusts became sloppy and delayed. 

“Kiss me.” He demanded, you obliged, taking his bottom lip between your own. Kissing him as he rocked into you, “Yes, Gods, look at what you bloody do to me.” 

Finally, Gale thrusted, gripping the sheet beneath you tightly, and with a prolonged groan, he came. Chasing his orgasm, he sloppily rammed into you as your body milked him, clenching around as your orgasms met each other. Both of you gasping for air and mumbling swears beneath your breathless demeanor.

“You know, that was nice,” Gale said, pulling out and moving to lay beside you, “I appreciate it,”

Gale looked over at you, still panting, “I'll go run us a bath.” 

“Umm… sir,” you spoke up catching your professor's attention, “this was just a one time thing, right?”

Gale nodded, “yeah.” He mused as he walked into the bathroom.

It was most certainly not a one time thing.