#GOD I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SUCH A BIG WALL OF TEXT.

[treasureplcnet]

you think i can't keep talking about karl and esther you are so wrong btw episode four timestamp 34:40 he hesitates before rubbing her back, comforting her the way a parent or guardian might. the whole tube scene is karl finally deciding he has to do this ("i'm here, and i'm not going anywhere, i promise") he still HESITATES because he knows he's probably not the right man for the job. he's the man that got her stuck in this problem in the first place. but they've only got each other and he has to try. does it hurt that the moment he finally builds this resolve and determination to leave it all behind and to actually fight for something that matters to him and admit that, even though he hasn't known her for long, he cares about this girl like she's family, esther is murdered and it totally consumes him? does it hurt that he's then framed for her death even though he just spent the last 24 hours killing and taking revenge in her name? not only because he knows he's a dead man, but also because he's out of options to do something that matters, and what else can he do with his grief other than inflict it onto others? yeah it hurts a lot actually

[automatonknight]

art posted whatever. time to fucking. sew!!!!!!!!!!!

[skrunksthatwunk]

so a thing that my brain does on the reg is it makes me get nervous about a scenario (ranging from probably-won't-happen to Definitely-Won't-Happen) and then i have to spend like 40 minutes meandering my way through an improv youtube apology video until my brain feels like I've addressed the scenario about as well as i can and lets me move on. usually this comes in the form of like

you accidentally said a forbidden slur (i.e. one i can't reclaim) while streaming/in a group conversation and now have to explain that your brain misfired catastrophically hard and that you've never said this word before (true) And You Have To Do It Well Enough To Be Believed

because like. i wouldn't believe that guy either, y'know? most people in that situation just cross that bridge when they get to it and do pretty bad, so maybe my brain is trying to help prepare me via interrogation. my point is that i spend a lotta my spare time pacing in my bathroom fending off theoretical murder charges (which are either phony OR true OR a secret third thing depending on the day).

as soon as i woke up this morning my brain gave me a new one:

what if people accuse you of faking your (middling) knowledge of french? and also you're a celebrity and have to prove it by speaking french live on a talk show or something.

which like. good morning to you too, brain. the first thing i did was (slowly, mediocrely) construct an appropriately indignant sentence in my head (i haven't used french since my ap exam like a month ago) and then

BUT WHAT IF PEOPLE THINK SOMEONE FED ME THE LINE

ok we'll have the audience write in questions live

WHAT IF THEY STILL THINK IT'S RIGGED AND ALSO WHAT IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE ASKING ((<- LIKELY AND UNCHARACTERISTICALLY ROOTED IN LIVED EXPERIENCE!!!)) WHICH WOULD PROBABLY MAKE IT WORSE

girl that's The Most i can do what do you want from me.

and then once i woke up more i had a realization in that blasted out, quiet way—like an astronaut drifting away from their ship untethered, forever. that

the prognosis of taking american public high school language courses is to remember jack shit (pardon my french). it's a classic babe it's near universal. we all know we don't know.

Babygirl, (And I Cannot Express This Enough,) No One Is Ever Going To Make You Speak French Live In ~5-40 Years To Prove You Took It In High School. Go Back To Sleep. there's only like two scenarios you can think of ever where that happens and there's like a 70+% chance you can just say no or ignore it. what a weird thing to fake in the first place too who would even accuse you of that.

anyway sometimes being a citizen of Braintown is funny and not exhausting in a kind of sad clown way but it's usually just kind of awful. something something c'est la vie

[norrizzandpia]

hey bestiee!!

I wanted to request femxreader who’s having trouble with sleep and calls lando when he’s away because she misses him so much

thanksss🧡

I NEED HIM ON SPEED DIAL.

What Are You Doing Up? (LN4)

Summary: She can’t go to sleep when he isn’t there.

Warnings: again, arguably the cutest thing ive ever written

Her eyes felt as if they had been glued open as she stared up at the ceiling. Nothing seemed to work. No amount of tea or medicine could get her body to relax and give into the sleep she so desperately wanted and needed.

The one thing she hadn’t tried and the one thing she really didn’t want to bother was the one thing she knew would actually work.

Lando.

Her boyfriend had become the expert on getting her back to sleep on nights when she was too fidgety or energized to lay down and stay still. His quiet whispers could easily make her drowsy and his soft hands roaming her skin never once failed to make her eyes droop. Whether it was the fact she found his presence calming or he was just the insomniac-whisperer, she didn’t know.

Nevertheless, on nights when he wasn’t there to find her up and walking around the kitchen in search of something to do, she had to try and get herself back to sleep on her own. Usually, she could do it. It would take hours and hard work, but she could get to sleep eventually. However, now, as she glanced at the clock and it read 4:30 AM, she realized calling Lando was inevitable.

Part of her brain knew he was the last resort, but the other was relieved to hear his voice because, God, did she miss him.

His race weekends had been going phenomenally and she was immensely proud of him, but she couldn’t get over seeing him on screen and wishing he was beside her.

No amount of phone calls, facetimes, voice notes, or text messages could cure the overwhelming yearning she harbored for the man in her life.

Her thumb hesitantly hovered over his contact, doubting at the last moment if she should really disturb him. But wanting sleep and her boyfriend trumped any second thoughts as she let out a breath and clicked his number.

The number rang for a few seconds before she heard shuffling, a rushed “give me one moment”, and then his voice.

“Y/n? What’s going on, baby? Isn’t it like-” A pause told her he was checking the time, “4:30 in the morning over there?”

She nodded, letting out a sigh before responding, “Yes,”

The exhaustion was evident and thick in her voice as it dawned on Lando why his girlfriend had called him when it was the crack of dawn for her.

“You can’t sleep,” He whispered, disappointment and empathy for her.

She had been so busy the few days before without much sleep that her walls began to fall down, tears rising in her eyes as she wished for any kind of rest.

“I can’t sleep,” She repeated, choked sounds escaping her throat as she willed for his support.

“Aw, baby, I’m so sorry. What can I do, love?” He said, moving to a more secluded corner as to gain privacy to speak to her freely.

She shook her head, fingers coming to pinch her nose, “I don’t know. Just talk to me about your day. Maybe that’ll help me calm down.”

“Okay, okay, I can do that.” He whispered lovingly, feeling heartbroken he couldn’t be there to help her through this.

She set the phone beside her ear, blankets up to her chin as he began.

“Well, it’s around 7:30 PM here in Vegas and I was just talking to Oscar and the engineers about going to get some dinner. Testing went really well today and the car is super quick. Baby, it’s going to be such a great race. I’m really hopeful. Anyway, I had a really good workout this morning too. Things are just going really well, honestly, with the team and Oscar. 1-2 is looking not as impossible now which is crazy, baby. And!” He exclaimed, getting excited as he rambled, “And I got to try In-n-Out! Remember that really big burger chain I was telling you about? It’s so fucking popular here and it’s not anywhere else except the west coast of the U.S? Yeah! I got to try it and, no doubt, baby, it was so fucking good. Genuinely, some of the best fast food I’ve ever had. We have to come back to the west coast over holiday, so I can show you it and all the other weird things Americans do. How does that sound, baby?”

Lando was met with silence to his question, thinking she hated the idea, until his ears heard soft, rhythmic sighs on the other line. His heart swelled at the infamous noises of her having dosed off. He loved the fact that he was the only person to be able to get her back to sleep, but also despised it during times like these when she failed to let him know of her problems until the last minute. He wished he could make her understand that any call from her was never going to be a disruption or annoyance.

He would always be overjoyed to hear from her, whether that was with bad or good news.

Nevertheless, he listened to her breathing for a few minutes, wanting to make sure she stayed asleep and didn’t need anymore of his help. When he was sure of her state, he whispered to the woman he knew couldn’t hear him, “I love you so much, my love. Glad I could help.”

He didn’t care that she couldn’t comprehend his words, saying it because, even when she was asleep, she deserved to hear how much he cared about her.

Hanging up the phone and waving off his team behind him who was rushing him as they so desperately wanted to go get food, Lando sent her a quick text.

Lan 🧡

Next time, call me the second you start struggling to fall asleep. I’m always here for you, beautiful. Call me when you wake up xx

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

[latteunwoo]

meet-cute!vernon

to be fair, the two of you did share a lot in common

one of those things being that the two of you shared the same braincell (this was endorsed by wonwoo who watched yours and vernon's first meeting unfold)

you finally had a free day from both school and work and decided to take a little walk around the city and check out the music store across the street from the coffee shop you always get your morning coffee from

the store wasn't very big nor did it seem very popular as it was one of those hole in the wall places that you could only notice if you looked hard enough

that being said, there was probably like four other people besides yourself in the store

"welcome!" the store owner said as she welcomed you as you entered the store

you simply gave her a soft smile as you made your way through the crates filled of vinyl records towards the back of the store

as you reached out to grab a boys like girls vinyl that you had caught in the corner of your eye, another hand reached for it from the otherside as well making you jump not realizing someone else had been in the vinyl section as well

of course the boy jumped as well when you had jumped, causing the vinyl that was in both of your hands and your phone to fall onto the ground

"i'm so sorry, i didnt mean to scare you" he said as he reached down to help you pick the vinyl and your phone from the ground but instead ended up headbutting you as you both stood up again at the same time 😭

wonwoo couldnt help but laugh from the other side of the room

"and so it begins" wonwoo said to himself as he watched the interaction between the two of you

"oh my god, I am so sorry. are you okay?" vernon asked as you rubbed your forehead after the impact.

"i'm fine," you said as you looked up at him to see he had a red mark on his forehead, which made you start laughing.

vernon raised an eyebrow at you at first before you pointed to his forehead

"are you okay?" you asked as he rubbed his forehead a little then nodded

"yeah, I'm fine. does it look bad?"

you let out a small laugh, "kind of."

vernon unknowingly let out a small chuckle as he couldn't help but notice how cute your laugh was

once he had caught himself he quickly cleared his throat before looking back at the vinyl in your hand

you noticed his gaze and looked back at him

"um... are you going to get that?' he asked as you just nodded, "oh"

there was a small awkward silence betwen the two of you as you thought about what to say because it looked like he really wanted the vinyl too and there was only one left, however you've also been looking for this for a while

eventually a thought came to you, "it looks like you also want this vinyl and i don't think they'll have more stock of it until a few months from now so if you want i'd be willing to let you borrow it sometime. if that's okay with you?"

there was another silence between you two as he looked at you then the vinyl and back to you

"that's fine with him," wonwoo said from behind vernon as vernon quickly turned to his hyung with a look of 'what are you doing?!'

wonwoo just smiled at vernon and gave him a look of 'i'm trying to help you' before he went back to looking at the other vinyls

"um... so...." you said as even though wonwoo said it already you still wanted confirmation from vernon

"y-yeah sure that's fine with me." he said quickly as you nodded and took out your phone and gave it to him to put his number in

"i'll send you a text so you can save my number too and you can just message me whenever you want to borrow it um.... vernon," you said as you looked at the contact name he put on your phone and smiled up at him.

"yeah, for sure" vernon said, still trying to process just exactly what was currently happening.

"alright, well, i'll see you around," you said as you gave him a soft smile before walking back to the front of the store to purchase the vinyl.

as you walked away, vernon stood there still trying to process what had just happened.

"hyung, what just happened?" he asked as wonwoo laughed and patted vernon's shoulder

"you might have just gotten yourself a possible date"

vernon quickly turned around as wonwoo noticed his ears started to turn red, "what do you mean?!"

"what do i mean?", wonwoo asked as he let out a smal laugh, "i saw how you looked at her. it seems like you're interested in her so you're welcome."

"i didn't- that's not- ah, whatever," vernon said as he quickly walked away and wonwoo just laughed

that night, you had texted vernon to make sure that he also got your number and since that day you two began texing each other more often and finding out that you actually had a lot in common

seventeen m.list || main m.list

[planetpedri]

idk if you’re hispanic/latino buttttt i NEED a pedri fic based off the song la santa by bad bunny (if you don’t know spanish you can just translate it and it’ll work jst fine) tyyyy i loveee ur work 🫶🫶

La santa — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You weren’t supposed to fall in love with Pedri, but it happened nonetheless. You knew what you were getting into when it all started and you both knew despite nothing ever going further than casual, you would always come running back.

Word count: 710

Disclaimer/s: Slightly Suggestive (?) , angst

A/N: OOOOH this song is lowk girl i’m nodding my head thank yew. i also really had no clue how to go about this .. i actually hate it so much sorry this was so bummy

Pedri was dressing quickly. Too quickly. You knew you shouldn’t have even proposed the idea of taking the relationship or… whatever you could call it, further. He always got jumpy when you’d ask for him to stay even a few extra minutes.

You leaned back against the headboard, a frown planted tightly against your lips as you watched him zip up his jeans. “Jesus christ, Pedri. It was a simple suggestion! You’re acting like I told you I was pregnant.”

The mans eyes widen as they shoot in your direction, “you aren’t.. pregnant. Right?” That elicited a loud groan from your lips.

“Oh lord.” You rub your temples before looking back to him. He still wore the same expression, nearly making you laugh as you shake your head. “No! I am not.”

“Thank God.” He huffs, reaching for his t-shirt.

You chew on your bottom lip, suddenly annoyed. “You know what? This has to stop. For good.” He continued dressing like you weren’t even speaking, so you add, “I’m serious.”

Pedri sighs, tugging the shirt over his head. “You said that last week, last month, and matter of fact, two days ago. You know damn well it’s not stopping.” His lip twitches at the corners, a smug grin forming ever so slowly.

That just furthered your annoyance because, unfortunately, it was the truth. It also pissed you off because if he’d just take you seriously and stayed away, you wouldn’t crawl back to him every time.

You’d tried to stop sending him that text or responding to his, but you were weak. Your resistance only lasted about five minutes before you caved. You simply couldn’t stay away from Pedri.

“It’s different this time, and you know it! I can’t wait around for you to feel—“

“Woah!” His hands shoot up, stopping you mid sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Your lips clamp shut and your arms cross over your chest. “Well—“

“Cariño, you know it’ll never be reciprocated. You knew this the second we started the whole thing! Cut the lovey dovey act, I don’t need you doing that because I don’t know how to reciprocate it.” He finishes his rant, running a hand over his face as if the whole conversation was one big inconvenience.

Pedri leaned against the wall a few feet from your bedroom door, antsy for an escape yet also not wanting to leave you pissed off at him.

“This was only meant to be a fun thing.” He adds once the silence became deafening.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you frown. “Why though? Why is it such a terrible concept? You care about a lot of things, a lot of people, why would it be so different?”

His eyes dart to the door, he really needed to get out of here. “You know why. Just.. let’s keep this going and you’ll get over it, no? Why are you trying to mess with something thats fine just as it is?”

You were desperately trying to ignore the way your stomach churned at his words. The more he talked, the more you felt your heart sink. You knew damn well there was no changing Pedri and you most definitely knew better than to even have a sliver of hope.

“You’re right.” You finally force out, “no, yeah. I’m sorry I even thought about it.”

The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. Pedri heard it loud and clear and he almost felt guilty. Almost. But at the end of the day, he’d told you how he felt about relationships at the beginning of it all. He knew and you knew, exactly where he stood.

“I’ll see you when I get back from Sevilla, okay?” Pedri sighs, pushing himself off the wall.

Not daring to look at him, you stay quiet for a moment. A weak attempt at pushing him away, but you were just that. Weak.

“Yeah.” You huff, “make sure you lock the door on the way out.”

Pedri lifts one hand as a parting gesture, but you don’t return it and he leaves anyways. He leaves you feeling like an absolute idiot because you know when you get the text that he’s back in town, you’ll be waiting right where he left you.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, specific or all.

DTS , @halfwayhearted , @spidybaby , @gadriezmannsgirl !

[whysoblue2]

Random word babble you can ignore about Shamura and Kallamar, but it's kind of fun to imagine the years when Shamura was still mostly a war god but they were also a new older brother to Kallamar and how that likely manifested at first.

Gods in general are pretty known for their selfishness, so I always end up imagining Shamura being a bit overprotective with Kallamar for a little bit and especially very possessive over Kallamar in general for longer while also being both more tending/loving and more aggressive in their actions to and about Kallamar because they're still, ya know, learning to chillax.

Which ends up with Kallamar being very confused in general and even more scared but also, at least a little bit, relieved and happy to finally have a safe space in Shamura. I can also definitely see Kallamar seeing Shamura as a sibling first before Shamura saw him as a little brother, but those feelings hit Shamura HARD in the gut, they weren't prepared at all. And it's just nice to think about

Oh, you make a lot of good points and I can see it! 

And sorry for the incoming wall of text, have a suffering Kall for your journey, friend!

When I wrote the chapter about Kall, I hinted at how their relationship worked in those years they were alone. 

To me, Shamura never really wanted to be a big sibling when he met Kall. They spared him out of pity and convenience because this squidling still had some power to unlock that they could exploit in their grand scheme of killing deities to reform a new pantheon.

So why was Kall always scared and insanely good with weapons? (yeah he was definitely the hardest fight for me, like 10 times harder than Shamura so I don't know if this is common or I just sucked, but it's part of my hc now). 

The first years they were together, it was hell for Kall! Shamura was brutal in their teachings and didn't care to be gentle or compassionate, even less empathic, all things that Kall is. 

So they taught him to fight, to kill and to go against his natural calling for healing by unlocking the power to harm with sickness. They did that through violence, through "tough love" cause ffs, god of war and all that. 

In my head, the scar on Kall's left eye is Shamura's doing, a mark they left to remind him who is in charge and that they could kill him any moment they wanted.

Things started to change slowly over the years. Kall was the one who "taught" Shamura love, and yes, I am 100% with you on the protective and possessive attitude. Kall became a precious ally, good at his powers, older, and an object of attention.

Kall indeed saw Shamura as a bigger sibling first to try and give meaning to that twisted Stockholm syndrome he was experiencing. He would love his jailer because he thought he could change them and make them better, heal them while being terrified of them.

The relationship evolved eventually, but I can see Shamura not letting Kall out of their sight, killing suitors or friends and imagining them as spies or assassins that could harm his precious little brother. 

You know "I do it for you, I love you and I want to keep you always safe"

Then Kall started to be more independent and they probably hated that, but they needed him for god-killing so they had to let him go and do his thing. 

When things got more chill, Shamura really loved Kall as much as Kall loved them, but I imagine that underneath the care and niceness that they showed to the other siblings, the feeling toward Kall would still be unconsciously toxic and possessive.

SO conclusions: I feel their relationship is unique compared to the other siblings. Kall has seen the very worst of Shamura and lived with them during that time. That gotta hurt, that is trauma. And that's why our favourite squid is scared all the time.

Thanks for the ask, I love rambling!

[ppushable]

two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

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Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

.

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

[batshotcrazy]

good girl - matt sturniolo

pairing : slightdom!matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warning : DEGRADING, PRAISE, BIG ON THE SEX TALK, MENTION OF COCKWARMING, OH AND A MENTION OF A MASK KINK 😋

text : matt

text : reader

baby

what ?

the shower

is a standing shower

so ?

ohhh i know

perfect for yk

you could give me head too

oh we could do like anything

i know we can

i can eat you out

fuck you from behind

pin you to the wall and fuck you

you have me going crazy rn

i know i do baby i'm sorry

the way i would ginger you

the way i would bite you with my dick inside of you

jesus

please bite me and mark me all you want

do whatever you want to me baby

i'm all yours

mhm you would like that wouldn't you ?

such a good girl

i would like that a lot

you know i would

make me feel so good matt

the things i would do to you rn

the way i'd make you cum all over my face

can you please sit on my face and let me eat you out ?

i'd let you do anything to me, yes

i'd cum all over your face if you cum all over mine

holy fuck

what baby ?

tell me abt it

i don't know

what, now you’re all shy ?

what happened to my confident boy ?

no he's here

i'd tease your whole body until you beg me for more

have your eyes rolling back

tease your clit with my dick

you would have so many scratch marks on your back

i know i would pretty girl

you kissing me and making eye contact while i'm inside of you

i hope you know that when i get back home i'm not holding myself back

i expect you to not hold yourself back

such a good girl for me

don't say that to me rn omg

what ?

you are such a good girl

my good girl

jesus

what ?

you all wet ?

wet for me like such a good girl ?

yes ..

damn right you are

my pretty little slut

i'm your pretty little slut matt

god i'm going crazy here

i wish you were here with me

the things we would do to each other

i wish you were in this bed with me

i bet you do baby

i do, so i could cockwarm me

fuck

doing whatever you want to me

i'd do anything you want me to

i bet you would bc you’re such a good girl

only a good girl for you

such a good whore

sorry idk if you would like that one

my jaw dropped

call me anything you want atp idc

oh my god

you love teasing me

mhm and i know you can't do anything abt it

when i'm off this trip istg

what are you gonna do ?

i'm gonna be all over you

tell me more

be a good girl

it'd be so much better if i could show you

i'm not so shy anymore baby

my confident boy back ?

you like him more or the shy one ?

i love both but i think i like my confident boy just a bit more rn

i bet you do

can i not go easy on you when you you get home ?

yes you don't have to go easy on me

good, bc i want to leave you looking like a mess you pretty little slut

OH MY GOD

i'll even cater to your little mask kink and fuck you with a scream mask on

or whatever mask you would prefer

would you like that baby ?

PLEASE

you’re driving me crazy

i bet i am

[avenging-fandoms]

Wedding Date - Pedro Pascal

"Ah shit!" You put the wine bottle on the counter as you look at the wedding invitation on the fridge. Next weekend was your friend's wedding and you had a plus one when you RSVP'd with your ex-boyfriend.

You sigh and grab a glass, filling it more than half way and taking a big sip. You pick up your phone and scroll through your contacts, picking out a few names before accidentally stop-clicking on the perfect person.

"Yn?"

"Pedro! Hey, how have you been?" You lean over the counter and sip your wine.

"I've been good, Yn, are you okay? We haven't talked in a while. I'm sorry about that by the way, I just got so busy."

"Oh no worries at all Pedro. You know, to make it up to me, you could come to my friend's wedding with me next weekend." You bit your nails and waited for his answer.

"I am free, what's the dress code?"

"Black Tie, I can get you a suit if you-"

"No, sweetheart, I've got it covered. I'd like to see you before next weekend and catch up, if you're up for it." He offers and you smile behind your glass.

"Of course, Pedro. I'll text you my schedule. Thank you, thank you so much. I'll see you soon." You hang up the phone and pump your fist, sipping your wine before grabbing a bag of pretzels and heading to the couch.

You sit against the wall on the bench, sipping your iced coffee as you wait for Pedro. He asked to meet you at his favorite coffee place and you agreed, missing the ray of sunshine you had.

"Yn!" The bell dings above the door and you look up from your phone, smiling as your eyes meet Pedro's. You stand as he walks over to you, engulfing you in a big hug. "Oh I've missed you, how have you been?" He pulls away and holds your face, kissing your cheek and the both of you sit.

"So, Pedro, how are you? Or should I call you Joel Miller? You played the hell out of that role." You sip your coffee and he smiles.

"You watched?" You look at him. "Thank you, princesa. I'm really proud of it. What did you think of it?"

"I thought it was so.. beautiful. That might be a weird word to use but your acting, Bella's, oh my god everyone in that show is so goddamn talented."

You drink 3 coffees and eat 2 donuts, Pedro 2 coffees, a tea and a bagel, he paid. He holds out his hand which you grab, standing up and following him outside while holding loosely onto his fingers.

"Well.. it was lovely to catch up, Yn." He stops and turns to you, your smile identical to his. "I can't wait to be your date this weekend."

"Thank you for doing that, Pedro. It's a late ask and I totally forgot."

"No worries, honey. I'll see you Saturday." He gives you a wink before turning and walking to his car. You turn and bite your lip, speed walking to your car so you could scream about this date.

-

You smooth out your dress and turn in the mirror, smiling and putting in your earrings. You hear a knock at the front door and grab your phone and clutch, heading down the stairs and opening the door.

"Oh.. my.." You exhale slowly, taking Pedro in. From the slicks back hair with the curls poking out, glasses, suit and shiny shoes. "You look absolutely amazing, Pedro."

"I think you mean yourself, hermosa. Show me." You spin slowly with a giggle and he sighs. "I am the luckiest plus one ever." He holds out his arm and you hold his bicep as he takes you to the car. He opens your door and you get in, closing your door and he gets in, the driver heading off.

A 30 minute ride with soft conversations later you arrive at the venue. Pedro quickly gets out as he sees you reaching for the handle. He opens the door and holds out his hand, your hand gentle in his as you step out of the car.

You hold his bicep as his hand rests on his stomach. You sign yours and Pedro's names, Pedro getting a few looks and waves. Behind your sunglasses you threw glares at the women throwing him winks and flirty looks. It wasn't your place but deep in your stomach it bothers you.

He leads you to seats and wipes yours off before you sit. He sits beside you and you hear whispers, so you grab his hand and bring it to your lap, tracing his bullseye tattoo mindlessly.

The ceremony was some what long, but you always cry during the vows. You hold Pedro's hand as you head inside, grabbing a drink for the two of you. You find your names and tablet number, sitting down near the bride and groom's table. You sat with some old friends and people you weren't familiar with, introducing Pedro to them all.

You ate, chatted and laughed before before starts to play. You watch as people start to stand, dancing with friends and partners for a few songs and then the first dance happens, followed by the other dances.

"Couples, please join the bride and groom with their parents on the dance floor." The DJ announces and you stand with a smile, walking by Pedro and dragging your hand from shoulder to shoulder as you look over yours, Pedro grabbing your hand as it trails down his arm.

Your hand rests in his palm with his hand on your hip, your hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for coming, I'm sorry you're getting so much attention, I'm sure I'll be bitched at about it." You huff and he laughs, pushing his hand to your lower back and pulling you into his body.

"I'm happy you asked me, seeing you in this dress has been the highlight of my year." He hums as a shiver goes up your spine, his fingertips digging into your back.

Claps erupt from everyone around you two and you join in, heading back to your seats as they do the bouquet toss. You chat with Pedro a bit and he can't keep his hand off your knee as he watches you speak.

"Pedro, can I have this dance?" Some woman interrupts while you're in the middle of speaking to Pedro and your eyes immediately shoot to her, putting your hand on Pedro's that was on your leg.

"No, I'll dance with only my date tonight, but I thank you for your wonderful offer." The woman walks away a little embarrassed and you look at him.

"You could've danced with her, you are single, aren't you?" You ask and sip your wine, looking at Pedro whose eyes grew dark as he looks at you.

"They're not who I want." You inhale sharply with a soft smile, setting down your wine and clearing your throat.

"Did you still need the bathroom? I need to freshen up, we can find them together." You say and he nods quickly, following you to the bathroom and locking the men's bathroom door.

[hannahssimblr]

Seven on the button, and the doorbell rings. I hear it from the garden as I empty the contents on the lawn mower into the bin, grass stains on my new shoes, sweat on my brow. Dad comes to the back door. 

“Bell,” he says. 

“Is it someone for me?”

“I assume so. A young woman.” 

“Didn’t you let her in?”

“No. I spotted her from my office window.”

I scoff. He’s so weird. Why wouldn’t he just answer? I wipe the grass from my hands onto the sides of my shorts, kick my dirty shoes off on the patio, and head down the hallway to the sounds of Ivy plonking on the piano. 

It’s Evie, in her usual denim shorts and a thin green cardigan, hair straight and shiny and wearing a shy smile. Despite seeming slightly frazzled, she looks so nice, like she’s put in effort, unlike me, all grass stains, sweat, and hair that is no doubt sticking up at some wild angle. I run my fingers through it. 

“Oh, hi,” I say. “I didn’t think you’d come so early. I… still have to shower.”

“Oh, God, sorry, am I the first one here?”

“Yeah, but come in, anyway. My sister is just practising for her piano lessons. She hasn’t played all summer.” I roll my eyes as the door clicks behind us. “In case you can’t tell. She’s a bit shite.”

Evie doesn’t respond, but looks around her with those big green eyes taking in her surroundings, skating up the panelled walls to the Georgian coving, the ceiling roses around the lights, all restored, faithful to the original house. It occurs to me to wonder, for the first time, what her home looks like, and the differences between our upbringings that didn’t matter an ounce on our little escapist slice of the beach.

“Do you want tea or something?”

She nods, and I take her through to the kitchen. There, she perches on a stool at the island and rests her elbows, trying not to be so obvious to her gawking. This time, she takes in the kitchen, this bespoke, perfect show-house-like kitchen with all of its integrated appliances, the state-of-the-art hob that’s barely used, the skinny cupboard made specifically for all the herbs and spices that still have the plastic wrap on them. It’s nice, sure, it’s like something from a magazine, but I would prefer this was the type of house that had magnets on the fridge door instead. 

“I’m sorry I’m early,” Evie says with a rueful smile. “I thought you said seven.”

I drop a tea bag into a mug for her. “Yeah, I said seven in the text, but I suppose I should have been more specific.”

“More specific about…?”

“That seven doesn’t actually mean seven, you know? That it means, like, sometime after eight.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you expected me to decode your text.”

I laugh. The misunderstanding was my fault, really, and if I’d thought about it for even a minute, I would have known that Evie, a girl who likely doesn’t go to a lot of parties, wouldn’t know the procedure. I don’t mind that she’s here at all. I am happy to see her, but the fact that she is in my house at the same time as my family is awkward. Every time I hear someone moving about in another room, all my muscles tense up. I cannot bear for her to meet them, and be able to make some kind of judgement about who I truly am through the encounter, or worse, expose herself to their judgement and scrutiny. 

As though on cue, my mother’s heels clack through the hallway, increasing in volume until all I can do is mentally prepare myself for her entrance. I curse under my breath while I fill Evie’s cup with boiling water. 

In freshly pressed trousers, she strides into the room. All jangling keys, and an air of busyness about her, so self-absorbed that it takes a moment for her to realise we have a guest. She stops dead, and surveys Evie in dull surprise. She’s like some kind of wild, feline predator, and witnessing her interactions with people who don’t yet know her ways is excruciating. 

“Oh, hello.”

“Mom, this is my friend Evie. Evie, this is my mom,” I say. 

Evie fidgets in her seat. “Hello missus Turner,” she says, and it’s so polite that I squirm.

Mom lets out a short, percussive laugh. “Oh, no, darling. It’s just Colette. Are you one of those girls from the Holy Faith school?”

“No, actually, I’m not. I’m from Tullamore, in Offaly.” 

Mom’s eyes glaze over so immediately and obviously that I cringe. 

Pulling the tea bag out, I clarify, “She’s one of my friends from holiday.”

“Ah, Shane’s sister.”

Evie picks the mug from the counter and cradles it in her hands. “No, um… No, I’m not.”

“Ah.” She’s already rifling through her handbag. “Jude, have you seen my reading glasses? I haven’t been able to find them all afternoon.”

“Did you check the office?”

“Why would they be in there?”

“I’m just asking, did you check?”

She huffs. “Why would you suggest the office? Why on earth would I have left them there?”

“Because this is your house, and you can go into any of the rooms you like. Sorry if that’s an outrageous suggestion.”

“You know I’m never in there.”

“Well, maybe dad mistook them for his and took them in. I don’t know.”

Evie stares into her mug. I am aware of the atmosphere we’re generating here, my mom and I, but it’s hard not to descend into this childish bickering every time we speak to each other lately. Even seeing her ignites this rage in me, as she is a reminder of the injustices thrust upon me, and every time I see her smug face, I think about the position she has put me in. Dad too, obviously, but I mercifully don’t have to see him outside of occasional mealtimes, and whenever someone makes a noise that disturbs him.

Eventually, mom struts out of the room and flings open the door to the living room, curtly calling on Ivy to get ready to leave, and I thank God. I won’t relax until they do. 

“How’s your tea?” I ask Evie, and she responds with a grateful smile. “It’s lovely, thank you.” I know she’s lying. I don’t know how the nuances of creating drinks I don’t enjoy. There are rules about the correct amount of milk, and how long to brew the tea bag. Maybe I shouldn’t have bashed it around in the cup with such vigour, as though transferring some of my contaminated energy into it. I wonder if she can taste it. 

“That’s good,” I say, and we lapse into a long silence.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[whoisneo404]

you should write a prompt where the reader texts nick "can you please come get me?" he could be at a party, at his home, or anywhere that seems fun to write! love ur writing 🤍

Get me out.

Summary: at a party you grow tired of this random guy talking shit about your boyfriend so you get into a fight with him, after that you text Nick to get you.

Tw: fighting, cursing, mentions of alcohol. suggestive??

‘’Yeah, and that Nick guy. God, he is such and idiot, he thinks he is the best but really, he’s just a whinny bitch. I don’t get why people like him.’’ the vodka burns my throat, or maybe it was the anger. Either way, I was done with this guy’s bullshit.

‘’The only whinny bitch I see is the one talking shit at peoples backs.’’ I walk closer to him, and push him into the wall. ‘’Say one more thing about him and I’ll break your face.’’ I don’t think of myself as a violent person, not all the time at least, but I am very protective of what’s mine.

‘’Who are you? One of his bitches?’’ he smirks.

‘’I’m the only one, actually.’’ I threw a punch at him. I hear commotion, a few of his friends rushed to me, a few of my friends rushed to him. I think I punched him a few times more but it might have been another person really. After 2 or 3 minutes I get dragged outside by my friend. ‘’Let me go. He hasn’t apologized yet, I’ll make him.’’

‘’Stop, that’s enough.’’ I sit on the floor outside the house the party was held at, my ribcage hurts, my face and knuckles too. I let out a sigh and clean off the blood running from my mouth. ‘’I’m going inside to see how the other dude is.’’ I nod and he leave. I take my phone out.

Ocean eyes

Can you please come get me?<

>Everything okay?

>Send me your location.

I look at myself in the black screen of my phone after sending him my location, he’s gonna be mad, and worried. I don’t regret punching that idiot, but I know how Nick gets when I get into a fight. After 10 or maybe 15 minutes I see the van park outside the house, Nick rushing out of the car runs to me and hugs me. I let out a loud ‘ouch’ and the breaks the hug quickly.

‘’Who hurt you? What happened? Are you okay?’’ He starts scanning my whole body for injuries and a small smile form on my face.

‘’I’m fine, I’m okay now.’’ I hug him and he gently wraps his arms around me. Caressing my hair and kissing my hair softly. ‘’Can we go to your house? My body hurts…’’

‘’Of course. Come on.’’ He helps me get up and walk to the car, inside Matt looks at me from the rear-view mirror.

‘’Hi Matt. Sorry for the hour.’’

‘’No problem. What happened?’’

‘’Long story…’’ I put on my seatbelt and lean my head into Nick’s shoulder.

----

‘’Are you gonna tell me what happened?’’ I’m sitting on the kitchen counter while Nick cleans the wounds of my face. I shrug my shoulders.

‘’You’ll get mad.’’

‘’Then why did you do it?’ I shrug my shoulders again.

‘’He was talking bullshit about you. And before you say it, I know you don’t care and I shouldn’t listen to what other people say but… I care, and I care a lot, I can just exist while other people say shit about my boyfriend, shit that is just far far away from reality.’’ He sighs and leaves the cotton covered with blood beside me, he grabs my face with both hands and makes me look at him.

‘’As hot as you look all bruised up, I don’t want you punching people every time you go out just because they said something that’s not true. We have talked about this.’’ I nod and he kisses my nose. ‘’Don’t do it again. Seriously. One of these days you’ll find someone that punches harder than you.’’

‘’I doubt that.’’

‘’Whatever you say big boy.’’ He pats my thigh. ‘’Let’s go to take a shower. It will help with the pain.’’ I nod and follow him to his room. ‘’And just so you know, it will only be a shower, I don’t want you more sore tomorrow.’’

‘’But-‘’

‘’No buts, come on. You smell like alcohol.’’

[st-eve-barnes]

You know that I'm no good (chapter 8)

(Modern Aegon x fem Reader, Modern Sihtric x fem Reader)

Summary: You want Sihtric. Aegon wants Skade. There's only one small problem: Sihtric and Skade are dating each other.

This chapter: You spend the night in Aegon's bed, finally giving into your true feelings for him. But what then?

Finally smutty times! And ANGST. And...I am so sorry about the ending...you guys didn't think we were there yet, didn't you?😈

Warning for the entire series: 18+ for explicit language and smut. Angst/comfort/fluff. Fake dating and so much mutual pining. Mentions of depression/drinking/self harm.

This is an Aegon x Reader fic with a bit of Sihtric x Reader on the side. I've wanted to write a modern AU that combines The Last Kingdom and House of the dragon for a while now so here it is!

Word count: +4600

Masterlist

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Aegon’s driver was as professional as they come, he was overly polite, opened the doors for you and accompanied you to the elevator that lead up to Aegon’s penthouse. 

Because of course Aegon would have the best, most expensive apartment in the entire building, you shouldn’t ’t have expected anything less.

You were nervous when you entered his place, it was dark in the loft as you made your way through the enormous kitchen.

On the way over there Aegon had texted you that the door was open and he’d be waiting for you in his bedroom.

Part of you was convinced you were still actually in your own apartment, in your own bed, sound asleep and having this amazing dream that involved Aegon inviting you into his bed.

It was all just too good to be true.

But it was real.

Light was peaking out from under the door of his room. You knocked softly before opening it.

Aegon’s bedroom was as spacious as the rest of the place, king sized bed with dark sheets, cozy lights and a big tv on the wall opposite the bed. He had never looked smaller to you sitting up against the headboard on his side of the huge bed, shirtless, his hair messy and curly and his sleepy sad eyes locking on yours. 

He looked like a dream. You didn’t want to speak or move, afraid you would shatter the whole thing and wake up alone again.

“Hey,” he whispered and his lips curled up into a smile watching your short pink pajamas,”You really came like that, huh?”

“You said not to change so…your driver gave me some weird looks though,” you joked, making Aegon laugh but then his gaze was serious again.

He lifted up the blankets to make room for you,”Get in here.”

You took off your shoes and climbed into the bed next to him, propping up the pillow behind your back as you got comfortable, not wanting to get too close to him before knowing his intentions.

Did he just want company? Or comfort? Did he just want to fuck or did he want more? 

Or was it none of the above.

Aegon turned on the tv and searched for Stranger Things. Then, without speaking a word, he started up the first episode.

It confused the shit out of you.

You didn’t know how to deal with this quiet version of him, it was the first time you actually had no idea what to say to him. The air in the room felt too heavy and even though Aegon was sitting right next to you it felt like he was a million miles away. 

Did he regret his decision to invite you over already? Was that it? Did you read too much into his words?

You got to about fifteen minutes into the first episode when you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is everything alright?” you asked.

Aegon turned to look at you,”Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you haven’t interrupted the show once, which is highly unlike you, and you’re really unusually fucking quiet.”

Aegon smiled at your directness but once again his smile faded too quickly and never reached his eyes.

“Aegon, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,’ he sighed, a little annoyed.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” you pressed.

“Because,” he started but then bit his lip and sighed deeply, his hand running across his face,”God, fuck, I’m sorry…I’m so bad at this.

“If you want me to go you can just say…”

“No, please!” he interrupted you and his hand reached for yours, gripping it tight,”Please.”

Your gaze met his and your heart sank seeing the struggle in his beautiful, pleading eyes. 

“Please don’t go,” he repeated, softer.

You nodded and squeezed his hand,”I won’t, I promise.”

He sighed in relief and you moved a little closer to him in the bed,”Why did you invite me over, Aegs?”

“I think you know,” his voice was soft but his gaze even softer, erasing any thoughts you may have had of leaving from your mind.

“I’d like to hear you say it,” you insisted.

You were suddenly very aware of the grip his hand had on yours, clinging to you and very slowly pulling you closer to him. His gaze was no longer soft, his pupils growing darker and blown with lust.

“What do you want?” you breathed.

He licked his lips before he whispered,”I want to pull you into my lap and kiss you. Is that alright?”

You swallowed hard, unable to form any coherent thoughts or words. All you managed was a small nod and it was all Aegon needed to proceed.

He pulled you to him and then gently cupped your face with one hand before leaning in and kissing you, slow and tentative and so soft it was giving you goosebumps all over. Your hands moved to his bare chest and he whimpered at the first contact.

“Sorry,” you giggled into the kiss,”My hands are cold.”

You wanted to pull them back but Aegon was quick to grab them and place them back on his chest,”Your hands are perfect.”

He kissed you again, slow and unhurried, taking his time to taste you and enjoying the way your breathing picked up and the way your hands moved all over his chest and stomach. Then he pulled you into his lap, legs on either side of him and this time you both whimpered when his cock brushed up against your center. Even through the layers of clothing you could feel how hard he was. 

Aegon was kissing you as if he’d been waiting years to do so, as if this was the first kiss, which in a way it was.

There was no audience this time, nobody to put on a show for, it was just you and him, the both of you melting into each other from every angle. He moaned into the kiss when you rolled your hips and then he leaned back to look at you, his gaze both hungry and somehow nervous for your reaction.”Do you want me?” he breathed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead against his,”Yes, Aegon.”

His entire face lit up at your confirmation.

You moved your lips to kiss his neck and Aegon’s eyes rolled back into his head, blissful little whimpers escaping his lips as he rocked back against you, letting you feel how desperate he was for you. Your hands moved over his stomach to push at the hem of his boxers, desperate to get them off but Aegon stopped you.

“Shhh, not yet, sweetheart,” he shushed you and then patiently kissed your jaw, your neck, your collarbone until you were a whimpering mess in his lap.

“Please,” you moaned quietly,”I need you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he reassured you,” but first…”

His hand moved down your stomach to untie your shorts while he moved his mouth up to your ear,”First I’m going to put my hand underneath those adorable pink shorts you’re wearing and finger you until you cum all over my hand. Is that alright, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, Aegs,” you breathed.

“Is that a yes?” he teased with a smirk.

“Yes,” you begged,”Please, yes.”

Your plea was enough to urge him to speed things up and he pushed you off of his lap to lay you down on his bed. 

His lips latched onto your neck again while his hand caressed your stomach and pushed up your top, his hand moving underneath to cup your tits, paying equal attention to both of them. His thumb grazed over your nipples before taking one of them into his mouth, his tongue lapping at those sensitive spots and as if that wasn’t driving you crazy already he also moaned into it. 

Your panties were soaked and he hadn’t even touched you there, you weren’t even sure if you would be able to handle it if he did. You were already clenching around nothing, so desperate to feel him inside of you. His cock, his fingers, anything, you didn’t care, you just needed to feel him.

“Aegon, please, baby,” you begged, taking his hand in yours and guiding him down between your legs.

He smirked at your impatience and pulled down the hem of your shorts, his lips brushing the shell of your ear while his fingers slipped into your underwear,”It’s okay, lay back and let me take care of you.”

He continued kissing your neck while his fingers ghosted over your clit, barely touching you but enough to feel how soaked you were.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he teased,”Oh, sweetheart, I’ve been a bad boyfriend, huh? Not giving you what you needed so desperately.”

You nodded, biting your lip.

Aegon showed mercy on you, finally circling your clit and putting pressure right where you needed it. You couldn’t hold back your moans and your hips started bucking up into his hand.

“You’re so needy, I fucking love it,” he purred,”Look at you grinding against my hand, my sweet dirty girl.”

His voice was adding flames to your fire, making you burn up for him a little more with every word he whispered into your ear.

The way he held eye contact through it all was driving you insane. Like he couldn’t bear to look away from you even for a second, taking in your reactions to every single one of his touches, eagerly learning what you liked the most and repeating that over and over until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Finally he slid a finger inside your dripping heat, making you press your nails into his shoulder. You covered your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure but Aegon was quick to slap your hand away.

“I wanna hear you,” he whispered,”Wanna hear how good I make you feel, moan for me, sweetheart.”

He added a second finger, fucking you with them at a slow, unhurried pace while his thumb found your clit again.

You moaned shamelessly, grinding against him, feeling that heat coil in your belly as your orgasm started to build.

Aegon watched you closely, speeding up his movements but slowing down when you got too close, keeping you right on that edge until he could see tears spilling from your eyes.

“That’s it, baby” he then moaned into your ear,”You can let go now, cum for me, sweetheart, soak my fingers, please, come on…”

He kissed you again then, slow and deep while he fucked you with his fingers, making sure to keep circling your clit as well. It was enough to push you over the edge.

You came with Aegon’s name on your lips, your entire body convulsing under his touch, bliss filling your every nerve unlike anything you had ever felt. You never wanted this to end.

Aegon slowly kissed you through your orgasm, letting you come down from your high but also keeping his fingers inside of you until every last wave of it had passed through you.

He smiled softly, eventually pulling back.”Was that alright?” he asked quietly but with a little hint of mischief in those beautiful blue eyes.

“Fuck yes, that was alright,” you giggled,”That was...holy shit.”

His smile grew wider, proud, and he kissed you again, deeper this time and when he moved against you, you could feel his cock resting against your inner thigh. Hard and leaking and so ready for you.

Your hand moved to push his boxers down, your impatience taking over again and this time he didn’t stop you but instead helped you take them off and then started tugging at your shorts to do the same. Your panties quickly followed, ending up in the pile next to his bed.

His one hand moved down your inner thigh, spreading you open for him while he pressed his forehead against yours, holding eye contact while his cock nudged at your entrance.”You want this, right?” he breathed, struggling to hold himself back but needing that last bit of consent from you,”I need you to say it, sweetheart, please.”

You just nodded and let your hand brush his cheek.”I want you, Aegon,” you confirmed,”I want you.”

You were both breathing hard, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close to you as he slowly pushed himself in, inch by inch. He stretched you to the fullest before slowly pulling out and driving back in again.

Your mind was no longer able to form words, all that filled your senses was him. And you realized there was no going back from this moment, the way he held you and looked at you as if you were the best thing to ever happen to him while he filled you up so perfectly. You had never felt so close to anyone in your entire life and it was making you emotional.

And Aegon noticed, even now. He halted his movements to grab your hand and hold it up against his chest.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby? What is it? Am I hurting you?”

“No, you’re not hurting me,” you reassured him,”Nothing’s wrong, nothing’s…you’re perfect.”

The soft, loving look in his eyes put a smile on your face.

“You’re so perfect, Aegon,” you repeated in a whisper and he leaned in to kiss you softly. You reciprocated hungrily and then he was fucking you again, more urgent than before.

His pace was slow but when you rocked back against him he started going faster, giving you what you both craved. It didn’t take long for you to lose yourself in him again, and Aegon was right with you this time. His breathing erratic and his moans growing louder as his thrusts became less and less controlled.

“I’m close,” he whimpered,”Fuck, I’m so close, baby.”

“Me too,” you breathed, encouraging him to keep going so he did. His fingers connecting with your clit again, giving you that last little push to topple over the edge with him.

“Fuck,” Aegon was breathing heavily, sweat on his forehead, his cheeks flushed red as he tried to hold back and give you what you needed first,”Shit, I need to…”

“Come inside me,” you whimpered, nails digging into his back.

“You sure?” he checked, biting hard on his lip as his thrusts grew harder and less controlled.

“Yes, I’m on the pill,” you reassured him,”Please, I want to feel you…come inside me, Aegs.”

You had barely finished your words when he did just that, his hot seed filling you up as he buried his face into the crook of your neck with a loud grunt. You followed quickly, moaning his name as your own orgasm rippled through you.

Aegon didn’t move for the longest time after that, just holding onto you as you both tried to come down from it. You hugged him close, neither of you feeling the need to speak for a while. You could have laid here for the rest of your life and be happy.

When Aegon finally looked up he noticed the tears in your eyes.

He gently cupped your cheek and brushed them away, his soft eyes meeting yours,“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” he checked.

“Yeah,” you smiled through your tears.

“Good tears?” he asked with a hopeful smile.

“Good I-just-had-the-most-satisfying-orgasm-in-my-entire-life tears,” you teased and Aegon’s laughter filled the room, making your heart feel full.

He pulled you next to him in the bed, keeping his arms around you to keep you close to him.

“Was that…okay?” he then asked, insecurity clouding his voice.

You nodded and leaned closer, resting your forehead against his.”Yeah,” you whispered.

His sweet smile warmed your heart and when he placed a soft lingering kiss on your lips you knew your heart belonged to him from now on. It was both the best and the worst feeling in the world.

“Stay,” he then whispered softly,”Please stay with me, my sweet girl.”

”I'm not going anywhere, Aegs,” you kissed him back and pulled him into your arms.

****

You texted Sihtric the next morning to cancel your platonic lunch date, followed by a bunch of apologies but he took it like a true gentleman and told you to text him whenever you felt ready and if that didn’t happen that he would understand.

You had been right about him from the start, he was a truly good man.

But there was only one man on your mind since last night.

Waking up next to Aegon still felt like a dream and instead of kicking you out of his bed he had pushed you down into the mattress and fucked you again before breakfast. He even offered for his driver to take you home, which you gladly accepted.

You had spent that entire Sunday living in a haze and went to bed happier than you had in a really long time that night. 

But then the work week started and you got back into the routine. And you didn’t hear from Aegon during those first days, and then Thursday came along and he still hadn’t texted you. 

That’s when the doubt started to set in. What if it had just been a casual fuck for him? What if he didn’t feel even an ounce of what you felt for him? What if he regretted it and now anything you two may have had was ruined before it even got a chance to start?

It was Friday and you had settled on the couch, your phone on your lap and a bottle of wine by your side. Normally under these circumstances you wouldn’t hesitate to call Helaena and pour your heart out to her, but that was obviously not an option right now.

You jumped when there was a sudden loud knock on your door. You didn’t want to hope, you knew it would only hurt all the more if it wasn’t him but you were quick to rise to your feet and open the door anyway, relief flooding your veins upon seeing Aegon on your doorstep. His hair was messy but his smile was bright.

“Hi,” he spoke softly while shamelessly staring at you.

“Hi stranger,” you teased,”Your phone not working?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed,”I should have…texted, or something.”

“Yeah, you should have,” you replied, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Can I come in? Please?”

You nodded and moved to let him step inside your apartment.

“There’s a film screening by the water tonight,” he then started,”We could go if you want.”

He moved into your living room and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he didn’t even touch you. 

Was that all he wanted? To take you out in public and play the fake couple again? Were you still right there after everything that happened? 

No, it couldn’t be true, your heart could not take this.

“I guess we could,” you tried not to sound as devastated as you felt,”If that’s what you want.”

You stopped to look at him and when your eyes met his he let out a deep sigh.

“No, it’s…that’s not what I want at all,” he confessed,”I don’t care about a stupid movie.”

“What do you want then?” you asked, feeling nervous about his answer but needing him to be honest with you anyway.

“You,” he sighed,”I just want you, Y/N.”

Every doubt and fear fell away when his hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you up against his chest, his lips meeting yours in a soft, deep kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in between kisses,”I should have…called you…I was an idiot…I haven’t…stopped thinking about you…all week. Can you please…forgive me, sweetheart?”

You cupped his face with two hands and kissed him back, unable to stop from smiling.”I forgive you. But don't do that again.”

Aegon didn’t stop kissing you as he pushed you towards the couch, pulling you down onto it with him, making you both giggle. But then he grabbed your neck and looked into your eyes, his gaze suddenly serious and darker.

“Can I fuck you again?” he whispered heavily,”Please?”

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes closing with a soft moan as he started kissing your neck while his hands cupped your breasts through your shirt,”God yes, you can fuck me whenever you want, Aegs.”

It was fast and frantic, clothes were pulled off and discarded, there was no time or no need for foreplay. The both of you starved for each other and when Aegon finally shoved his achingly hard cock inside of you everything was right with the world again. You clung to his shoulders as he fucked you mercilessly on your green couch, bringing you both to a fast and intense climax.

The second time was different, slower, on your bed, with him kissing every inch of skin on your body before he even dared to touch your cunt. When his tongue finally devoured your clit it felt like you ascended to another world and when he fucked you afterwards, lazy and slow and with his eyes on yours the entire time, you cried again.

He kissed away all your tears patiently before making you weep again as he drove you to another mind blowing orgasm. He came with his teeth sinking into the skin of your neck and your name leaving his lips in the most delicious whimper.

****

The weeks that followed felt like a beautiful, romantic and very much not suitable for work dream. You spent your days at work or hanging out with Helaena and you spent your nights in Aegon’s bed, or on your couch, his kitchen table, the balcony of his penthouse, the back of his car, the elevator in your building, …

It didn’t matter what place you were in Aegon needed to have his hands and his mouth on you every night, and preferably in the morning as well. He grew addicted to you fast and you were no less addicted to him.

You felt happy, for the first time in a really long time. Aegon was sweet, always in a good mood and incredibly affectionate. 

He was everything previous boyfriends hadn’t been. 

He’d hold you until you fell asleep in his arms, cuddle up to you in the kitchen while you were cooking, he’d listen to you when you rambled on about customers at work, he’d even bring you breakfast in bed and pick you up after work. He made you laugh every day and every day was better now because of him.

The sex was infinitely better than anything you’d ever had before. Aegon would always make sure you were taken care of first, he wouldn’t even think about his own climax before he’d made you cum first. He also loved to go down on you, usually while you watched Stranger things. He’d eat you out as if he’d been starved for days, making it impossible for you to focus on the plot of the show, which you stopped caring about several episodes ago, you now just put on the show as an excuse to let Aegon have his way with you.

He was the perfect boyfriend in every way, except that he wasn’t your boyfriend.

You never put a name on what you two had and you never talked about your feelings. You didn’t want to push your luck and lose what you had with him. Things were perfect, why force them to change?

It was a slow day at work that Friday when the door opened and Aegon walked in, the store was empty except for the both of you and you could see that eager, mischievous grin on his face as he stepped up to the counter.

“Good afternoon, miss,” he grinned.

“Hi,” you smiled, leaning across the counter to get closer to him. 

Aegon followed your lead.“You alone?”

“Well, there’s one customer in here, it’s this weird but kinda handsome blond guy who comes in every few days,” you teased him,”He never buys anything, doesn’t even look at the books, he just comes in to flirt with me.”

“Hmm, does he now?” Aegon leaned on his elbow, letting his eyes meet yours,”Does he make you uncomfortable? Should I go kick his ass?”

Your lips curled up into a smile,”No. I was just wondering…why he drops by so often.”

Aegon’s hand reached across the counter until he managed to grab your arm and pull you closer.”Maybe he just misses you,” he then whispered. 

“Is that so?” you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up and Aegon softly pressed his forehead against yours.

“Can you take a break?” he then asked,”Hang up a sign and close the shop for ten minutes.”

“The whole ten minutes, oh my god Aegon Targaryen, you must be every girl’s ultimate sexual fantasy,” you teased and laughed and he hit you on the arm.

But then his eyes locked with yours again, his gaze suddenly intense,“I’m your ultimate sexual fantasy and don’t you fucking deny it.”

You bit your lip shyly and smiled,”I wasn’t going to.”

He grabbed your chin with his thumb, forcing you to look deep into his eyes, nothing but hunger staring back at you,“Close the shop.”

You sighed,“I don’t know, what if my boss happens to drop by?”

Aegon leaned in even closer, just enough so he could nuzzle your cheek, his breath hot on your skin. “Come here,” he whispered and he softly kissed the sensitive spot right below your ear, making you shiver.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered,”Been thinking about your pussy all day.”

He smiled when he noticed your breathing picking up and he started kissing and licking your neck, making you breathe even harder.

“Aegs,” you moaned quietly, fingers digging into his arm,”What do you want?”

“I wanna taste you,” he breathed in between kissing your neck and jaw,”Right here…wanna push you up against one of those book shelves…tear those jeans and panties off of you…kiss your thighs….suck on your clit until she’s all sensitive and throbbing for me…then…I’m gonna fuck you slowly with my tongue, get you all nice and wet and then…”

“Jesus fuck, alright, I’ll close the shop!”

Aegon smirked and licked his lips while you rushed to lock the door and hang up the Closed sign. Before he could say another word you pulled him with you towards the back of the store.

It turned out ten minutes was more than long enough for Aegon to make you cum twice, once with his head nestled between your thighs and the second time with his cock buried deep inside of you, thrusting so hard the entire bookshelf was shaking. 

You held onto him so tight afterwards, fingers deep into the skin of his back as you buried your face against his neck.

“God, I’ve missed that,” he whispered in between kissing your shoulder,”I’ve missed you, so fucking much.”

“Missed you too,” you breathed.

Everything was so perfect, if you had known how quickly it would all fall to pieces afterwards you never would have said a damn thing.

You hadn’t meant to say it, you just got caught up in the moment and the way he was looking at you with those soft, loving eyes of his.

“I love you so much,” you breathed against his lips and Aegon froze.

He recovered quickly, trying to shut you up with more kisses and you reassured him that it was okay, that he didn’t need to say it back to you and that it was just a heat of the moment thing and not a big deal.

But it was a big deal, it seemed like a huge fucking deal to Aegon. 

It was the beginning of the end.

[kissalopa]

I was catching up on @aleksa-sims' real life story and told her I felt that I am a bad mom. My son is not a newborn anymore (he's a toddler), but I still sometimes get this feeling and thoughts in my head. Also the fact that some close people (one person actually, but a very close one) told me that I am a bad mom doesn't help with self confidence.

But yesterday we (me and my son) were out on a playground. Then came a young lady and sat on a bench, she was looking at her phone. I was communicating with my son like I usually do, nothing special. Then rain started, I hid under big tree while my son was playing in a sandbox that was partly sheltered by the same big tree. And that lady came under the same tree to sit on another bench. Then came an old lady with two small dogs (maybe chihuahuas, I'm not really good with dog breeds), my son wanted to pet a dog. I told him to approach carefully and give his hand to sniff first (that what you should do with cats, I don't know if it also works with dogs). But the dog started barking, and my son god scared and sad. I hugged him and told him that the dog didn't want to communicate, because she wanted to go to the toilet (the dog did it's thing while we were hugging). After that my son went back into sandbox and continued playing. At that moment lady that was sitting on a bench started talking to me. She asked how many children I have, and said that I am a good mother. That it's rare to see such connection and communication between parents and children. It was so nice to hear such words! She also said that my husband should be happy too, because I'm such a good mother to his child. (That's actually not the case, but I won't go into that now.) I thanked her several times then we wished a good day to each other and she went on her way.

I'm sorry for the wall of text, but it's the first time something like this happened to me, so I wanted to share ☺️

[arkethamz]

my newest tribute to the wildrp fandom or whatever you'd call it.

vampires au antonio/oliver "crack" ship that i let get out of hand bc theyre actually so fun to draw 🫢 also, i couldnt not make a vampires au, i mean, look at what theyre wearing ! those are pretty much canon outfits !! theyre so [explodes /pos]

also, i'm afraid of twitter so i didnt get to post the actual ship art there 😭

i dont trust twitter with gay art thats even slightly suggestive lmao esp if its extra toxic yaoi. rptwt sucks ong

my antonio can do no wrong(/j), so i needed an au where he's a devious little freak who can disturb even the likes of a violent n grumpy oliver.

which, I'll admit, i only know oliver from wu's pov n not much else, but i love what little bit i saw of his personality that i wanted to take what i interpretted n play around w ideas involving antonio,,, cuz i hope i've already established how [debatably] normal i am about him :3c

i'm a big fan of religious themes, so i love the idea of the dicenzo fam following some good ol fashioned italian catholic rules hehe. except antonio, who would've excommunicated or just, lost faith in God in general after his house burns down with his family still inside. and in this au specifically, he messes around with some vampires at some point n yknow, gets turned into one.

when antonio n wu join the family, antonio takes a special interest in oliver just bc he's easily worked up n annoyed. so he likes to pester him just to get a reaction. at some point ollie becomes the vamipre hunter hunting antonio, who causes havoc wherever he goes cuz he's hungry for blood, basic vampire stuff. and antonio likes to lure ollie around to mess with him, and no matter how long he's gone without feeding, he'd never bite ollie just so he'll stay mortal and warm-blooded.

thats basically all ive got. sorry for the wall of text again, i dont have anybody to talk to about my ideas n im too scared to talk abt it on twt [sigh]