#I nearly forgot about this! I was thinking of my late sister at the time and decided to draw them because they were our favs

[angsty-teacup]

Here’s a drawing I did back in August !

[paradiseismine]

Hi!!

Today was my birthday and I don’t know if you have requests open, but if you do, could you please write a Mike Wheeler x Munson!Reader? In which Y/N is Eddie Munson’s younger sister and secretly dating Mike and, well, getting into spicy things in his basement?

I would thank you a lot ✨

Hands off - Mike Wheeler x reader

Pairing: Mike Wheeler (Stranger Things) x Munson!f!reader

Warnings: smut, secret affair, blowjob, face sitting, slightly inexperienced Mike

Love note from Nina: first of all, happy belated birthday, darling! 🎂 I hope you had a great day. Second of all: HELL YES, and here you go.

“Hands off, Wheeler boy” Eddie had warned (partly jokingly, but not entirely) when he caught Mike staring at you once. “That’s my little sister, don’t forget that”

But it’s not like he could forget that, really. You’d hang out with Eddie and tag along for D&D campaigns pretty frequently - the gang’s new Druid. You didn’t attend Hawkins High, though, but went to some fancier school in the neighboring town instead. You had gotten the book smarts whilst Eddie had gotten the street smarts, as he’d always say.

Tonight, you had joined the gang for another D&D campaign, on Mike’s basement, as usual. Y’all had been playing for a good five hours or so (with an strategic stop to order a pizza), and besides the fact that the campaign pretty much always took place on a Saturday, it was getting late.

You had caught Mike staring at you a couple times - he was also sitting right next to you, knees “accidentally” touching yours from time to time as the game progressed. There was something about him that made you feel so pretty, so desired, you could barely resist the temptation to touch his thigh under the table. Ugh, you had to come up with a plan, what could you possibly do t-

“Should we wrap and get going, guys?” Dustin suddenly asked, interrupting your thoughts while checking his watch. He didn’t say it, but he clearly wanted to call Suzie before going to bed. Lucas and Will agreed, and so did you and Eddie.

After another round or two, the gang decided to stop the game on a cliffhanger, just to keep things exciting and pick up from where you left off in the following week. Bidding each other goodbye, the rest of the party walked up to the front door and left on their bikes.

“Fuck, you go ahead, I think I forgot something in the basement” you scratched the back of your head, trying to seem nonchalant. “See you at home?”

“Sure, munchkin” Eddie agreed, not seeming suspicious at all. “Just take care on the way home later”.

Going back to the basement meant getting Mike alone - everyone else had gone home and he had to clean up the mess. You walked down the stairs normally, making sure he’d hear your footsteps, just so he wouldn’t be caught off guard.

“Nance?” he asked, sounding puzzled, before seeing you at the base of the staircase, his beautiful hands closing the box in which he’d put all the D&D stuff. “Oh, it’s you” he smiled. “Are you okay? Did you forget anything?”

“Well, actually, i didn’t really forget it, it’s something I’ve been thinking about all day…” you said, mischievous.

Mike looked at you quizzically, wanting your tone to be as naughty as he believed he’d heard.

“Can I-can I help you with that?” He stuttered, head lowered to look into your eyes as you approached him, your chest now nearly glued to his.

Michael Wheeler had fantasized about you pretty much since the first time he saw you - waiting for Eddie next to your scooter in the Hawkins High parking lot, looking like a model in your leather jacket, long hair and red lipstick. He’d get lost in his words when you two spoke, his palms sweating and his heart pounding.

“I’m pretty sure you know you can” you looked up at him maliciously. “Or did you think you were being discreet back there” you pointed towards the D&D table with your head, “Touching your knee to mine every five minutes?”

Mike audibly swallowed. He had been caught red handed.

“Y/n, I-“ he started, nervously. “It’s just… You’re so pretty, and I know you’re Eddie’s sister, so I could never…” he bit his lip, embarrassed. “You know, no matter how much I wanted to… And believe me, I really do…”

You pushed him lightly towards the basement’s couch, and he fell back seating on it. His eyes went wide as you sat on his lap, one leg to each side of his waist.

“Eddie told you to keep your hands off of me, didn’t he?” Mike gulped, nodding with eyes still wide open as you slowly unzipped and took off your leather jacket, setting it aside. The white top you were wearing underneath was tight fitting and had a very low cut - besides, you were visibly not wearing a bra. “Well, he didn’t say anything about me touching you, so…”

You put your arms around Mike’s neck, gently running your fingers through the hair on his nape, your naughty eyes staring at his plump reddish lips. He could barely breathe, but his throbbing erection involuntarily pressing up against your core spoke for him.

“Tell me to stop” you whispered before your lips lightly touched his - and needless to say, Mike never told you to stop. You kissed him chastely at first, but as he seemed to gain confidence, you soon asked for entrance in his mouth with your tongue, and that innocent kissing soon turned into a full make out.

Mike’s hands went straight to your breasts, fondling them hungrily as he moaned into the kiss. You felt an instant rush in between your thighs, your arousal nearly painful; but you still wanted to play the game on the hard level.

“No, no, no” you broke the kiss to whisper to him, as you gently held his wrists and put his hands back on his lap. “Hands off, lover boy, only I get to touch you.”

Mike sighed, feeling dizzy with lust. He had never gotten drunk, but that’s what he imagined being drunk would feel like.

You kissed him once again, softly biting his lower lip, your hands pulling him closer by the collar of his Hellfire t-shirt. Mike timidly moaned as you touched him, his body quivering, aching for more. Soon, your lips found their way to his neck, kissing it, biting it, driving him crazy.

“Could I give you a little love mark, baby?”

“S-sure, I’m yours, whatever you want” he moaned, enchanted by you.

You bit and sucked lightly on his neck, leaving a small purple bruise behind, gently kissing it to relieve the pain afterwards. Mike’s hands grabbed your ass harshly, squeezing it. You couldn’t help but moan at the touch, right on his ear, nibbling on his earlobe.

“Again with the hands, mister? That’s not very Prince Charming of you, I’m afraid. Do I have to tie up those hands to make you behave?” you had grabbed his neck lightly, eyes studying his expression.

“Do you… do you want to tie me up?” he asked, trying to conceal the excitement in his voice.

“I’d love to, can I?” as he nodded, you took off your belt and tied up his hands with it, making a firm knot to secure it.

“Will you… will you still let me please you, y/n?” he nearly begged, his body squirming for relief in those tight jeans. “I always dreamed of making you cum”, he confessed.

You chuckled. He was so adorable, ugh.

“Have you ever had a girl sit on your face before?” you asked softly.

“No, I-“ he said, feeling a bit shy. Mike wasn’t very experienced at all, but it’s not like he was going to admit that to you. “I don’t think so”

“Can I?” you gave him your naughtiest look.

“Sure, beautiful” he agreed, eyes hypnotized by the sight of your perky nipples nearly ripping through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You stood up and stripped for him, garment after garment falling on the floor as he watched, tied up hands trying to palm his own erection for relief. You were so beautiful, and somehow, even more beautiful naked. He sighed, lustful, his face flushed as you approached him again.

You positioned him on the couch and slowly lowered your hips to Mike’s face, carefully adjusting your clit to where his lips were. You held yourself on the couch, not putting your weight entirely on him.

He licked your entrance delightedly, your smell and your taste making his head spin. He flicked his tongue to your clit and earned himself a moan, only to repeat the movement and keep hearing your moans. Your pussy was soaking wet for him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to reprimand Mike when his hands, even tied as they were, reached up to finger you as his tongue kept working on your clit.

“I’m so wet for you, Mikey” you moaned, your hips swaying onto his face. “You drive me wild, I want to cum for you so bad”

Mike whimpered as he kept eating you out like you’d be his last meal, and if Eddie found out about what happened tonight, it would be.

As his fingers curled inside you and his tongue relentlessly massaged your sensitive clit, getting you to moan more and more, legs shaking uncontrollably, you came on his mouth. Mike licked you through your high, still in disbelief that such a pretty girl was wet for him, moaning at his touch, desiring him.

You got off of him and lowered your body once again, kissing him and tasting yourself on his drenched lips.

“You taste so good, princess” he praised, still out of breath.

“I bet you do too, love” you pulled him up so he’d be seating on the couch again. Your legs were still shaky from such an intense orgasm, your head feeling light and dizzy, but you couldn’t wait another moment to have him.

You bent at your waist, hands on his knees, giving Mike your most devilish kiss. He lowered his head, and you immediately knew what he wanted. Putting your naked breasts to his face, he took one of your nipples in between his lips and suckled on it hungrily. His dark eyes were low and seemed in ecstasy.

“Can I give you a-a love mark as well? I mean, here?” he bit the side of your breast gently.

“Sure you can, love” you replied, nearly moaning.

Mikey sucked and sucked onto your skin, leaving a purple bruise behind, before repeating the same step at a slightly different angle. When you looked down, he had left a heart shaped bruise on your chest.

“I swear you don’t even exist, baby boy, I made you up” you chuckled and nuzzled your face onto his neck before pulling up his T-shirt to remove it.

You could hear Mike pulling air in between his teeth as you kissed his chest and his belly, working your way towards the hem of his pants. You looked at him in an inquiring way, hands on the button and zipper of his dark jeans.

He nodded rapidly, and you lowered his pants and underwear to his ankles, eager to take him in your mouth.

“Hold my hair back, will you?” You asked, and even with his hands tied, Mike managed to do it.

Soon enough, you had taken most of his length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, your hands on his balls and perineum, gently massaging him. Mike’s eyes would squeeze shut and roll back in pleasure, his lips red from so much biting and kissing, faint moans escaping them.

“Princess” he said, his voice barely audible. “You’re so good… Can I cum in your mouth?”

You simply opened your mouth and kept jerking him off as a response. Mike’s knees were shaking (and would’ve buckled if he wasn’t sitting down) as he let out a louder, satisfied moan and released his warm seed into your mouth. You swallowed it immediately, in slight disbelief that even his cum tasted good.

“Did… did you swallow it?” He asked, amazed.

“Of course, silly” you stood back up and kissed his nose playfully. “You taste so good, how could I not?”

“Thank you” He smiled, embarrassed.

“How long have you felt like that?” You sat beside him on the couch, grabbing your clothes back from the floor. “You know, being attracted to me and stuff?”

“I, uhm…” his cheeks had turned pink. “Ever since I saw you that day on the parking lot, waiting for Eddie” he confessed. “Yelling at him for not doing the laundry” you both laughed.

“You caught my eye that day too” you admitted, head tilted to the side. “I just thought I wasn’t your type, you know? I’m quite different from the girls at Hawkins High.”

“You’re way prettier than all of them” he shrugged honestly. “And a lot funnier, more interesting, more intelligent…”

“Do you want to… Keep seeing each other like this?” You suggested, hand lightly caressing his after you untied him.

“Kinda like… dating in secret?” He inferred.

“Eddie would kill you if he found out, wouldn’t he?” You laughed, understanding his point.

“Absolutely”

[hindahoney]

If you want to code-switch so often that you are nearly incomprehensible to goyim, here is a list of my favorite and most-used Jewish terms:

Schvitzing - Sweating. (Ex: "I'm schvitzing so much it's showing through my clothes.")

Schlep - A tedious and long journey, depending on usage it can mean that you were carrying something. (Ex: "I had to schlep all the way across campus, my backpack was so heavy." Usually denotes a long walk, but other forms of transportation are acceptable too. "You drove all the way to New York from Florida? That's quite the shlep.")

Shtati - Something really cool. (Ex: "I visited my friend's place and they had a shtati mezuzah!")

Neshama - Soul. (Ex: "Mazel tov on your conversion, you have such a strong Jewish neshama!")

Balagan - A big mess, chaotic, confusing (Ex: "Moshe forgot to bring challah for shabbat dinner, and it turned into this big balagan")

Achi/Achoti - "Achi" literally means "my brother," but can also be used like bro or dude, "achoti" is the feminine equivalent meaning "sister"

Yalla - Come on, let's go (Ex: "Yalla yalla, you're going to make us late again")

Mishpacha - Family. Doesn't have to be literal blood relatives, usually a sign of warmth or friendship. (Ex: "I care about every Jew, they're all my mishpacha.")

Pshhh - Interjection sound, to express respect or agreement with what someone is saying, but can also be playfully poking fun at someone taking themselves too seriously, can be used sarcastically.

Achla - amazing, awesome, great, the best (Ex: "You graduated from university? Achla!")

Sheina Punem (Shayna Punim) - Pretty face (Ex: My bubbe kept pinching my cheeks and calling me a sheina punem) Can be used ironically, in which case it means "a disgrace."

Ahavat Yisrael - to love your fellow Jew (Ex: "I firmly believe in ahavat yisrael, even if it's hard sometimes.")

Schande - Shame, dishonor among the nations, meaning a Jew who represents Jews badly, a serious insult. (Ex: "He's a schande, he feeds into antisemitic stereotypes.")

Schmutz - Dirt, stain. (Ex: "Use your napkin, you've got schmutz on your face.")

Amalek - Any enemy of the Jewish people. ("[Fill in blank] is the modern Amalek, they hate the Jews.")

Lanceman/Landsmen - Two jews from the same place, a point of connection between two Jews who now live far away from their hometown. (Ex: "Your grandma is from Crown Heights? Mine too, our grandparents are landsmen!")

Goyisch - Something not Jewish (Ex: "I don't listen to Taylor Swift, her music is too goyisch for me.")

Goyischekop/Goyische-kop - Goyisch head, a jew who thinks/sounds like a non-jew. (Ex: "How could you say about your fellow Jew? Do you have a goyische-kop or something?")

Kindaleh/Kinderlach - Little children (Ex: "I passed by the school and saw the kindaleh on the playground, they're so cute!")

Chamud/Chamuda/Chamudi - Sweetie, cutie, usually aimed at children, but can be a term of endearment between a couple. Can be condescending when said rudely to another adult, like "Sweetheart" can be in English. (ex: "Goodnight, Chamudi. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.")

Daven - to pray ("Are you going to join us for davening?")

Frum - A religiously observant Jew. ("He's frum, he davens three times a day.")

Treif - Unkosher, generally something not good, doesn't have to literally refer to a food. ("I trained my dog to stop barking when I say 'treif!'.")

Bubkis - Zero, nothing, nada ("Moshe got a gift from bubbe and I got bubkis.")

Kvetch - To complain ("I'm just kvetching, I'm not that upset about it.")

Kvell - Extreme pride. ("I heard your daughter made it into her top school, you must be kvelling!")

Mensch - A good, admirable person. ("He volunteers every week, he's a mensch.")

Chillul HaShem - Disgracing God's name, someone who does something that makes Jews look bad.

Kiddush HaShem - Something that sanctifies God's name, brings honor to God. ("I love seeing you wear a kippah, it's a kiddush HaShem!")

Bubbe meise - Little white lies ("He told his teacher a bubbe meise about his dog eating his homework.")

I should acknowledge that these are mostly Yiddish words, as my experience is primarily with Ashkenazi Jews. If you would like to add common slang from your community (like Ladino phrases, Judeo-Arabic, Italki, etc) I would love to learn about them!

[13keithxpidge13]

I wanna write an AU where Rhaenyra chooses Harwin to marry and their marriage is solidified in the eyes of the Realm.

Immediately, Rhaenyra becomes pregnant. The couple are overjoyed and the kingdom celebrates, excited at the prospect of introducing a brand new prince or princess to the world.

When Prince Jacaerys Targaryen is born, Harwin is absolutely /flooded/ with joy and pride. Jace is his precious boy, his /beautiful/ firstborn son. He looks so much like himself but with Rhaenyra's violet eyes and her gorgeous smile. It doesn't matter to him that his hair isn't white (he doesn't care /what/ the Queen says). Jacaerys is his perfect, special boy.

Not even two years later, Rhaenyra is announced to be pregnant with their second babe. Her stomach doesn't grow nearly as large as it did when she was in her later months carrying Jace which did worry the Maesters just a tad but, Harwin wasn't concerned at all. Rhaenyra was strong, stronger than anyone he knew, if anyone could pull through-it would be his beautiful wife.

And, he was right. Eight months into her pregnancy, albeit a little early, Rhaenyra gave birth to their second son; Lucerys Targaryen. Harwin's precious, sweet little second son. Tinier than most babes he is but as strong as can be nonetheless. He looks like the spitting image of Rhaenyra. Bright violet doe eyes, a button nose with freckles caked across his cheeks, and a sparkling happy smile. When Rhaenyra first laid eyes on him, she sobbed with joy and whispered how he looked so much like her mother; the late Queen Aemma. King Viserys agreed, holding his second grandson and weeping whilst gazing at his sweet face.

It was at this time that the rest of Viserys's children had begun to become more curious about their older sister and their nephews. Prince Aegon often dragged the young Prince Aemond down to sneak into his and Rhaenyra's chambers to get a peek at the two young boys when Luke and Jace were playing.

Harwin wouldn't say anything against the young princes when they sneak in, when they think no one could see them. If anything, it warms his heart to know that, despite Queen Alicent and her bitterness against his wife and their children, her boys nonetheless attempt to be close to their nephews even when their mother argues against it.

Harwin watches, amused as Prince Aegon rushes over to Jace and immediately plops down next to him from where Harwin's eldest boy is playing with his youngest. The two sit on the floor surrounded by tiny dragon wooden cut out toys and Jace squeals as Prince Aegon takes one of the toys and starts playing. Little Luke kicks his tiny four month old feet out and giggles loudly, clapping his hands together.

Prince Aemond takes a little more coaxing but, eventually, they all are playing together on the floor with the sound of happy laughter and childish giggles ringing throughout the room like church bells.

It isn't too long before Rhaenyra returns, entering their chambers and the group of children all whirl to meet her.

"Oh my," She gasps, but she's smiling and little Luke squeals, babbling nonsense and reaching towards his mother. "It seems I have a group of little hatchlings nesting in here. What are you doing away from your mother at this hour, brothers?"

"Playing!" Prince Aegon shouts and stands up, smiling wide as he raises his arms. "Mother forgot to put Aemond down for a nap so I brought him here!"

At that, his wife's smile falters just a tad. It was not secret that Queen Alicent often...neglected her children, leaving them to the servants and wet nurses instead of spending time with them herself.

But, that didn't seem to bother the two young princes as they would often sneak away to come find their nephews anyway.

"All by yourselves?" Rhaenyra asks, concerned and that's when Harwin speaks up from where he was situated beside one of the desks inside their bedroom, hidden from sight but able to keep an eye on the group.

"Don't worry, princess," Harwin spoke up and all heads turned to him. "I've been watching them."

Rhaenyra sighs with relief and stalks towards little Luke who was practically crawling over to her at this point, desperate to get to his mommy. He had always been more attached to her than Harwin but, Harwin supposed he didn't blame his son. He was quite attached to her too.

"Hello, little love," She whispers to her second son as she picks him up and cradles Luke against her chest. He coos and babbles, clutching onto her hair and nuzzling against her. "Yes, hello, my sweet boy. I've missed you too."

"Can we stay, sister? Please, please?" Prince Aegon begs, bouncing on his tip toes as he grabs at her black dress. His eldest sister chuckles and she gently runs a hand through his wavy white hair and he leans into it.

"Ah, well," She sighs in a teasing manner. "I /suppose/ you could stay for a bit while longer."

Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond cheer and Jace and Luke follow along, all of their giggles resounding and joining together.

Harwin and Rhaenyra smile at each other and he walks over to kiss his wife, his girl humming against his lips and he then plants another kiss upon her head and one on little Luke's.

It won't be for some time that they have another babe, many years but, Harwin cherishes each and every moment he has with his family. His perfect family.

[jooba]

cheater x reader p3

“You're gone. What do I do without you?”

TW: MDNI, dubcon, handjob, blowjob, cheating, nudity, sexting, texting

wordcount: 786

Read the First Part.

and the second

It’s only been 3 days. Three days you’ve been gone and Emery feels like he’s going crazy. He misses your warm kisses and sweet hugs. You’re going to be gone the whole month but he knows that he won’t last without you that long. He knows that if something doesn’t change quick, he’ll end up quitting his job and flying to Europe to see you. But he knows in his heart it wouldn’t be enough: he’s liable to steal you away from your oh-so-precious sister’s wedding just to be with you. So he has to find a solution quick so he doesn’t ruin your trip. He’s sending a text off to the first woman he thinks of, hoping she’s the solution. She’s certainly not you, he’s aware. But her smile is just enough to soothe the ache in his chest (or more correctly, in his pants). 

“Don’t stop,” he grumbles, one hand twisted in her hair, yanking her back and forth on his cock as he likes. She’s gagging around his cock, crying and swallowing pleasantly. She’s on her knees in front of him, wearing only one of your T-shirts. The color of it almost makes her look sickly. He’s barely paying attention to her, more focused on the phone in his hand.

You’ve sent him a rather naughty photo, and he can’t help the way his dick responds. You’re completely naked, wading in a silvery pond. It looks to him like you’re in a jungle or forest of sorts, which sends his mind racing.

The woman deep-throating him seems to feel this change, and suddenly becomes much more enthusiastic. He falls back onto the bed completely, releasing her hair, letting out a groan. He can’t stop looking at the photo you sent, wishing he was there with you. You send another photo. This one is a close up of your tits, half in the water; nipples just barely visible. The bottom of your jaw and chin is visible, and you are wearing the cheekiest little grin. His grip on the phone tightens, but he can’t tear his eyes away. He barely even notices as the mouth on his cock pulls is replaced with gentle hands

“Miss you, miss you, miss you!” he mumbles, jerking as the woman works his length, fingers squeezing the base at random intervals. As he cums, he closes his eyes, pretending you were there with him. He breathes heavily for a long time, just thinking about you.

“Hey, are you okay?” 

He startles up, nearly smacking into the concerned woman who was hovering over him. She has a downtrodden expression on her face, and for a moment, Emery feels guilty. He hops off of the bed, grimacing at the feelings burrowing into his chest. 

“Yeah, just thinking…” 

“About (Name)?” She says your name with such familiarity that he is reminded that this woman and you are actually friends. He wonders, not for the first time, if he should have chosen a woman that didn’t know you, in case something were to go wrong. But it just so happens that this woman was not only convenient, she sometimes reminds him of you: with her warm smiles and understanding nature. After a few moments of him not responding, she speaks up once more. 

“I know I said it before, but I still don’t understand why you two split so suddenly… The two of you seemed so happy…” 

He wants to rolls his eyes but barely refrains. He thinks she’s incredibly stupid, for falling for such a lie and allowing him to use her like this.

‘Don’t you have to work today?” And just like that she dashing around the room, throwing on clothes and straightening herself out. 

“Oh my god! I almost forgot! I’m going to be late!” He watches her lazily, not bothering to help. Fully dressed and things gathered in her arms, she rushes to the door.

“The shirt,” he calls out suddenly. She looks back at him, confused and flustered.

“That’s not your shirt,” he says lowly, doing his best not to glare at her. He only let her borrow your shirt due to missing you: he certainly wasn’t going to let her leave with it. 

The woman smiles, unbothered, not noticing his dark tone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! Ah, just a moment.” He’s almost impressed at how quickly she takes the t-shirt off and replaces it. She tosses it at his head playfully and sings a goodbye, whisking out of his apartment. 

Emery is quiet for a long time, just holding your shirt close to his chest. 

It doesn’t smell like you. 

[stevie-petey]

first of all: the new chapter was AMAZING as always!! i know you are probably so so so busy with move in and classes starting and writing come home already, but i had a blurb idea (and it will obviously ALWAYS be dustin and steve interaction) of steve hanging out with dustin alone sometime soon after you get together, and them talking about it for the first time? it doesn't have to be any particular way i'm just SO curious what dustin's reaction was beyond the knee-jerk "ew you kissed my sister but also thank god because it took you long enough you moron"

stebe n dust <333

enjoy !

“you sure youre okay with driving dustin to mikes?”

steve rolls his eyes fondly at you. “yes, angel. its not even a ten minute drive. i can handle the kid.”

“i know. its just,” you bite your lip, unsure of how to voice what youre thinking. your brows scrunch together and steve thinks youre painfully adorable when youre overthinking. “its too hot for him to bike there, but you and i just started dating and dustin is… well. hes dustin.”

“you worried he’ll lecture me or something?”

“more like ask really invasive questions.”

steve laughs and kisses your hand, body leaning over the counter at your work. hes spent the entire days at bookstrordinary just to talk to you since scoops burned down. when he isnt job searching with robin, hes here with you.

“have some faith in me, y/n. im a big boy, i can take care of myself.”

you blink at him. “you cried yesterday when a lizard ran across your leg.”

“okay, thats entirely different. that thing looked at me with its beady little eyes and dared me to fight him.” steve shudders. “that thing was sentient.”

“youre really not making me feel any better about this, honey.” you groan, already dreading whatever your brother will say to him. youre sure dustin will somehow give the most bizarre, overly obnoxious yet endearing lecture known to man.

steve rolls his eyes again and grabs his keys, reluctantly pulling away from you. “i bet the kid forgot we’re even together now. relax, i’ll be back in no time.”

you call one last good luck to him before hes hone, leaving you alone in the store as the late july heat simmers the air.

at first everything is great. dustin is waiting for steve in the driveway and hops inside the car without any complaints. he turns the radio one and even smiles at steve.

but then, as dustin always does, he opens his mouth.

“i better not catch you sucking face with my sister.”

“dustin!” steve blanches, utterly mortified by what the boy has said. he almost veers off the road with how violently he cringes.

“im just saying! you two are weirdly touchy, and now that youre together, which by the way took you way too long to even do,” dustin looks pointedly at steve, who sighs. “i dont want you getting any gross ideas.”

the older teen rubs his face tiredly. he lasted three minutes. three blissful, quiet minutes. “good to know youre happy for us, then.”

dustin thinks for a moment. “well, i guess y/n could do worse. better than jonathan, at least.”

“thanks, dustin.” steve deflates, not at all believing the kid.

dustin recognizes the apprehension and he uncomfortably shifts in his head. he doesnt necessarily want to be all touchy-feely with the guy, but he also recognizes how much you love him. how good you and steve are together.

coughing, dustin looks out the window. he knows this is what youd want. “im happy she found you, steve.”

by now the wheelers driveway can be seen, but because steve is so startled by what dustin has confessed, he almost misses the turn.

clearing his own throat awkwardly, steve parks the car and looks at dustin. “you, uh. really mean that?”

“please dont make this any more unbearable.” the kid quips, leaning as far away from him as possible.

“right,” steve clears his throat again and unlocks the passenger door. he tugs at his seatbelt, needing something to do with his hands. “off you go, then.”

dustin quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and nearly falls out of the car in his hurry to leave. hes standing and about to walk away before he stops, turning around. leaving over the window, dustin lowers his voice. “hey, one last thing.”

steves voice catches in his throat, scared of where this is going. “yeah?”

ducking his head down, too shy to meet the other boys gaze, dustin finally says, “dont hurt y/n, alright? she-she really loves you. i know you love her, too. but shes… shes the best person in the world and im trusting you to be kind to her.”

“i…” steve stares at dustin, surprised by the sincerity in his voice and yet incredibly touched that hes being so vulnerable with him. to have your brother trust steve enough to be with you, to trust he wont hurt someone as selfless and soft as you, it means more to steve than dustin will ever know.

after years of being cruel to his classmates and growing up believing he wasnt worthy of anything gentle, steve cant believe hes being entrusted with you in his life.

it doesnt feel real, sometimes. being able to love you.

“i promise i’ll be kind to y/n,” steve says softly, meeting dustins eyes. its weird, being so delicate with the kid, but hes shared a lot with him, so its only fair steve does the same. “its because of her that im kind.”

“me, too.” dustin whispers. his eyes gleam, his mischievous smile is back. “guess we learned from the best, huh?”

steve laughs. “yeah, i guess we did.”

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias/Trent Alexander Arnold x Reader - Dark Rivarly Part 1/15

Yeah, y'all ain't ready.

Don't even think you're ready cuz you're not.

Part 2 and 3 are already out on my Patreon for FREE!

Reader is Trent Alexander Arnold's twin sister. The two have been inseparable since childbirth, more so now when Reader is fresh out of university looking for a job, crashing at her brother's place whilst doing so. One day Reader gets a job offer that she cannot refuse, however it would mean working for her brother's biggest rival in football, Ruben Dias. 

Enjoy!

"Y/N!"

It was six in the morning and Trent was already shouting.

"Y/N!"

You groaned, grabbing a pillow and smothering it against your ears. His footsteps emerged from down the hall and just like when you were kids, he had no respect for your privacy.

"Y/N, did you take my....."

He yanked the door open to the sight of you pretending to be asleep. He gasped, seeing you wear his Liverpool knee socks.

"I knew it, you fucking..."

Or to you they were knee socks, perfect for sleeping in.

"Hey?"

You twisted in bed, kicking your feet as you were suddenly being attacked.

"Aha. I knew you were bluffing." Trent exclaimed, and continued yanking the socks off your feet. "How about you buy your own clothes rather than stealing mine?"

"Why would I do that when you wear the same size as a girl?"

Trent got the socks off your feet, however your words made his cheeks grow red.

"How about you stop treating my closet like a fucking shopping mall you homeless parasite!" He stormed out of the room to the sound of your laughter. You had definitely struck a nerve.

"Technically, I'm not homeless. I'm job hunting." You said, after getting out of bed, entering the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. Trent was washing the dishes, using the running water as an excuse to ignore you.

"I promise to be out of here once I get a job."

"And when will that be?" He muttered, shutting off the water. "You can't be job hunting for five years Y/N. How about we call it for what it is."

"Which is?"

His smile was spiteful. "Unemployment."

You pout your lips. "You're very mean whenever you have a game coming up, did you know that?"

He rolled his eyes, setting up the plates to dry. You watched him gather his things, getting ready to leave for the day. His team had a light training session ahead of their game tonight.

"Grandma will be at the train station at twelve." He informed. "Are you picking her up or should I give mom and dad a call, tell them to do it?"

"I'll do it." You nodded.

"Cool thanks."

"In one condition...."

He had turned around, reaching for the door handle. He sighed having to face you again, knowing damn well that whatever was about to come out of your mouth was not going to be to his benefit.

"What?"

"I'm going to need the keys to the Bentley."

"For what? To pick up Granny?"

You shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

Trent muttered under his breath, reaching for the keys in his pocket. It was amusing, seeing him give in so easily. The perks of being two minutes older than him. Technically you were twins, but on paper you were also his big sister.

He tossed you the keys.

"Have a nice day." You smiled.

He ignored you, slamming the door on his way out.

The silence that followed was soothing. Outside the sun was shining and you could simply feel it, the start of a wonderful day.

********************************************

"Grandma please, we're gonna be late. You don't need another Chanel bag."

You had spent all day tending to her needs. When the time came, getting your high maintenance grandmother to the football stadium was nearly impossible.

"You're late." Your patients said, stating the obvious as the two of you arrived at Anfield.

"Well, blame Grandma. She forgot to pack her scarf so we got her a new one, but of course the whole day then turned into a shopping spree."

Grandma was a retired seamstress, who still tended to a few shops where she lived in Manchester. Nevertheless fashion was her passion, some of it having rubbed off on you, however not as much that would make you run late to an inter-city football derby.

"How is Trent doing?" You asked,  searching for him out on the pitch. You spotted him in seconds, enjoying the fact that he looked cooked already. The game had only been running for twenty five minutes.

"Manchester City looks to be a real challenge this year." Your dad said.

"Good." You muttered.

Ever since you were a kid you had the habit of rooting for whichever team that Trent wasn't rooting for, especially if the game was shown on the TV, and his team was losing. Liverpool seemed to be losing big today. Their coach was seen gesticulating vividly on the sidelines, shouting at the players to get their shit together.

"What's he doing?"

At some point a fight broke out and you were grinning at the fact that Trent was involved. They'd usually have him somewhere in the back, playing on the right side of the pitch, during this game however, he was seen running around in the middle getting into more trouble than he should.

"What's he doing, ref!!" Your dad stood up and shouted in protest, along with other fans in the stands. It looked to be some of the City boys giving Trent trouble after a fair but hard tackle that he made on one of the younger players on their team. There was one guy in particular that seemed to be all up in Trent's face, shouting at him, deliberately giving him shit. At one point Trent must have had enough because he ended up shoving the guy, to little effect however because the guy was huge and immovable. Nevertheless, it was all downhill from that, Trent ended up getting booked by the referee and his coach must have decided it would be best to send him off quite early into the second half of the match. It was safe to say that Trent wasn't happy when your family returned home.

"It was that dickhead Dias fault." He snapped, having slammed every door that he had stumbled upon on his way through the house to the living room.

"Please Trent, it's just a game." Your mother said, trying to calm him down.

"Yes but why was I the only one that got sent off? The referee didn't even bother to book any of the City players that came at me. You saw it, didn't you Dad?"

"I saw it son. We all did. It was complete bollocks."

You snorted.

Trent frowned. "What's so funny?"

You shrugged. "I dunno, maybe when you tried shoving that guy but ended up falling back yourself. That was pretty funny."

"Y/N." Your parents sighed. Grandma however, slapped her knee as her head tossed back with her laughter, fueling your own.

"Oh, so this is funny to you?" Trent stood, his expression trembling with rage. "How about I shove you and then let's see who's laughing."

"Trent!"

Your parents held him back, nevertheless you didn't even flinch. Everyone knew that out of the two of you Trent couldn't fight.

"Y/N, apologize to your brother. He's had a rough day." Your mother demanded.

"So? It's a part of life. Sometimes we get booked, sometimes we don't."

"You think you're so funny." Trent said,  through gritted teeth. "Let's see who gets the last laugh."

A jolt of your heart. "You wouldn't."

He smirked. "Mom, Dad, Y/N has been lying to you about her internship in London."

"What do you mean?" They frowned. Even Grandma looked unsure.

"Trent." You warned him.

He ignored you.

"She's been unemployed for five years, crashing on people's couches. Her university friends must have gotten tired of her because she's been living with me for the past three months, eating my food, stealing my socks. She's never even offered to help pay rent.

"You didn't."

Trent was the only person in the room with a smile on his face, your parents on the other hand....

Part 2 and 3 are already out on my Patreon for FREE!

[stardust948]

Half Off Chocolate

Prompt: They fight over discounted Valentine's Day chocolate while arguing over who had it worse.

Katara didn’t know why she didn’t just go home.

Her makeup was smeared from crying, dress wrinkled, and hair slipping out of its neat bun. She was a messed and felt even worse inside. Maybe that is why she stopped at the nearest convenient store for some well deserved and frankly overdue, sweets.

The store was a ghost town. Scattered pink and red merchandise laid abandoned on the floor and nearly empty shelves. Of course. Though it was still Valentine’s Day, the hour was late and most of the good stuff was long gone.

Katara wandered to the candy section, feeling like a lost spirit herself; haunting the remains of a once beautiful dwelling now succumbed to ruin. The candy ail was picked clean, as expected. Even the less popular treats were gone. Nothing left except a lone heart shaped red box. An ugly orange sticker slapped hastily on read the box was 50% off due to damage.

‘How fitting. A damaged heart for a damaged heart.’ Katara thought to herself.

A bitter half smile grew on her face as she reached out to pick it up. She did not notice the other hand reaching at the same time until they both grabbed the box. Katara gasped, more out of annoyance than surprise.

The person was a Fire Nation man about her age. He wore a fancy suit with the neck tie partly undone and had long black hair that spilled onto his face. Bits of red peaked under the hair on his left side, probably from a rash or blemish he was trying to hide. Despite this, he was admittedly attractive in his own way.

Katara glared. He must have forgotten what day it was, hastily threw on the fancy outfit and rushed to the store to buy sweets for his disappointed partner. Well too bad! Katara needed it more!

“Excuse you.” Katara said coldly. “I had that first.”

“What? No I did.”

“You’re wrong.” Katara yanked it, but the man held firm. “Let go!”

“I had it first! You let go!”

“No you!”

They yelled and tugged on the chocolate box like a couple of kids fighting on the playground.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?!” Katara spat. “I’ve earned that chocolate!”

“Earned?! I need it more!!!”

“It’s not my fault you forgot Valentines’ Day and had to last minute shopping!”

“I didn’t forget! My girlfriend dumped me today of all days!”

“Oh boohoo! My long term boyfriend proposed today-“

“Well congratulations!” His voice dripped in sarcasm.

“After I caught him cheating, you prick!” Katara snapped. “He didn’t even apologize! Just pulled out a ring and thought that would fix everything!”

“You think that’s bad?! My ex dumped me by bringing the guy she was cheating on me with for the past 2 years!”

“My ex brought his fangirls to the proposal! The very ones who treated me like a maid and constantly threatened me just because I was dating him!”

“My ex threw a glass bottle at my head just for dating another girl while we were on break!”

“My ex threw a lit candle at me because I didn’t want to kiss him right then!”

“My ex did kiss me just to shut me up from talking about confused emotions!”

“My ex purposefully kept me away from my family and constantly belittled my culture!”

“My ex insulted me just for having different opinions from her!”  

“My ex compared my grief of my mom’s murder to losing his pet! Then scolded me for giving a witness report against the murder in trail!!!”

“My ex told my sister where I was knowing she’ll tell my abusive father!!!”

The box ripped in half, sending them flying back and pelting them with chocolate. The two stared at each other in stunned silence before the owner came storming up and kicked them out. The slammed door echoed across the bare parking lot as the two continued to stand there awkwardly.

“Did she really do those things?” Katara asked in a hushed tone.

“Yeah.” The man rasped. There was no hiding the sadness in his voice. “Yours’s?”

Katara nodded. “Yeah…”

“Sounds like a really crappy person.”

“Yours’s too.”

There was another brief silence before he spoke again.

“We’re better off without them.”

“Are we?” Katara asked. “We were just fighting over discounted chocolate 5 minutes ago.”

“Okay, maybe not tonight specifically… But in the long run, we’re better off.”

Katara rubbed her necklace as tears formed. She wanted to agree but a large part of her life was tied to that relationship. Tied to him. Katara shook her head. The stranger was right.

“We are better off.”

“Sorry about…” He gestured to the store behind them. ”That.”

“I’m sorry too.” Katara undid her messy bun, letting her hair fall free, then extended her hand. “I’m Katara.”

He accepted with a firm grip. “Zuko.”

[kissorkill16]

Face Your Fears: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: People have to face their fears.

Aaron and Nicky walked home from the Raven Brooks woods together. Aaron walked nonchalantly down the sidewalk, but Nicky hugged himself like he was cold.

Aaron turned to look at his best friend, "You good, dude?", he asked.

Nicky shook his head, "Not really.", he replied. "How do you even set foot in the woods without contemplating the possibilities of death or not finding your way back out?"

Aaron shrugged, "I just get in and get out, simple as that.", he said. He started to walk ahead of Nicky, but Nicky caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't understand how you can stay so calm after all that's happened to us.", said Nicky. "We nearly got killed by a bunch of raven people, we nearly drowned in that storm, we got grounded after all of our pranks and we still continue to be the biggest menaces to society in the world."

"So?", said Aaron.

"So how do you do it? How do you keep so calm?"

Aaron shrugged and put a hand on his shoulder, "I just learned to keep calm in a bad situation.", he said. "I used to be scared of the woods too, but I spent a couple of hours there with my sister when we tried to get used to our new house and town, and I actually found it to be not that scary at all. Despite all the ravens calling out to each other late at night."

Nicky couldn't help but laugh a little at that.

"And Mya used to be afraid of heights, but one day, I took her to the top of the roof and we saw how beautiful the world looks from up high.", he continued. "Lucy also once told me that she was afraid to ride the new rollercoaster when it came out, but she promised she'd do it because she wanted to be a part of the wonderful memory we'd create on it."

Nicky's eyes widened in surprise, he remembered that Lucy also told him that.

"I guess some people just have to face their fears."

Nicky looked down at his shoes. He wasn't used to facing his fears, most of them were caused by his grandma, and his grandma was the scariest fear he had.

"I know it sounds bad, but it's true.", said Aaron. "If you don't face your fears, you're gonna grow up to be miserable and scared for the rest of your life."

Nicky stopped walking and just slumped down to the ground. He was already miserable and scared for most of his life, he didn't want to be reminded of that. Aaron sat down next to him.

"Did I strike a nerve or something?", he asked. Nicky shook his head, "No, you didn't. I'm sorry, I was just...thinking."

Nicky stood up and dusted himself off, "And you're right. People do have to face their fears. Who knows? Maybe one day, I'll face mine."

Aaron smiled at him and continued walking down the sidewalk, Nicky following close behind him.

And as time went by, Nicky never forgot about what Aaron told him. He faced his fears of his grandmother and going into Mr. Peterson's house, and he ended up feeling like total shit.

He kept wanting to just stay away from the outside world, just wanting to feel safe.

He kept a bag over his head to hide the pain and to cover himself from the fears that haunted him.

He'd faced enough of his fears, he didn't want to face more.

As Nicky walked down the street one day, with Trinity by his side, she pulled him out of his thoughts when she asked him a question.

"I don't get it.", she said, "Why would you keep going into Mr. Peterson's house if you were scared?"

Nicky turned to look at her for a moment, remembering the words Aaron once said to him when he asked a similar question like that, "Because people have to face their fears."

[simadelics]

London, 1895

Kenneth Jr.

Today, Mr. Gresbrooke stopped by to talk to me after a meeting with Father: he explained that his daughter has told him at length about my interest in politics as well as my “studious and courteous manner.” He declared that I seem to be an intelligent young man with a good head fixed quite firmly on my shoulders, and that he's glad to hear that I have remained “blessedly untouched” by my mother’s “disposition.”

Though I cared little for the reference to Mother — the loss of her is not something I like to be reminded of, even if I think of her absence nearly every moment — I am unashamed to say I have been waiting for such an acknowledgement for some time! I know I'll work alongside him and Father one day, and I know it will make Mother proud, too.

Thomas

Richie said that Kenny is all Ethel ever talks about lately, so I asked him why, and would you believe Richie said she fancies him? Yuck! We agreed that it’s plainly gross, and I asked him if Anne fancies anyone (I suppose the answer I was hoping for is obvious!) but he just shrugged and said she’ll be married in a couple of years, anyway. He said he’ll never marry — isn't that daft — and I said I’ll definitely marry his sister, though he teased me like I meant Ethel, when I know he knew I meant Anne!

I’m gladder to have a best friend than ever; I feel like I forgot I could have fun for a while, and the Gresbrookes' country home is glorious in the summer. I’m even inspired to draw: you can guess who!

I hope I’ll be able to work on my illustrations for Mother again soon, but they only make me sad right now, and I hate to cry. I can’t wait until I’m a man, and I’ll never have to cry again.

LAST POST | NEXT POST

[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥𓂃𓏧Fuck The Girls

𖦹Warnings: Cheater!Ichigo x Fem!Reader, Mentions of bullying, Brief Spit Play, Pet Names (ex. Baby, Honey), Switch!Ichigo, Switch!Reader, Modern College!AU, P in V Sex, Sex Videos are made consensually

𖦹Word Count: 2.4K I regret nothing

🫧: Sorry for the late post🥲I had to start everything over. 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

ᐕSummary: In your defense the storm came earlier than expected and your bully’s boyfriend was too hot to not fuck..

You’re an adult. Everything you do has consequences. That means hitting them will get you put behind bars. They aren’t worth the risk. You told yourself to sooth the seething anger. Tears of pure fury ran down your cheeks as your fingers massaged your temples. Coffee stained your white shirt and jeans. The hot drink had seeped through the rips leaving first degree burns on your thighs. You composed yourself enough to walk out the local cafes bathroom with your head held high. Leaving all signs of weakness in the stall.

You walked back to your table attempting to ignore the four sorry excuses of humans behind you, plus the bystander. College is better than high school my fucking ass. Just professors that overwork me and more mean bitches to put up with.

“Why do you always antagonize people?” the man with them asked severely unamused, “go apologize.”

“What? I literally didn’t do anything,” the tall brunette, his girlfriend, smiled to stop a laugh, “you should be saying that to Angie I wouldn’t have spilled my drink if she didn’t bump into me.”

“Not true,” the dark skinned woman grinned, “I just happened to trip over my own two feet.”

The four burst out in laughter.

“Go. Apologize. Now.” He said through gritted teeth.

“For what? We didn’t do it on purpose,” she flipped her long hair over a shoulder.

You closed your MacBook turning it sideways so the coffee could drain before you struck it back in your tote bag. Anger was starting to resurface and the urge to strangle every last one of them swelled. He nearly leapt from his seat, “hey! Wait a minute-” You raised a single finger as you walked out that left him in a stunned silence.

ෆ

“Who messed with the ice queen today?”

“Remember the girl I told you got caught fucking the Dean?”

He hummed.

“Her sister Angie, Lina the short haired girl, the one that’s more like their pet, that bitch Regina and her boyfriend.” You said giving him a quick rundown.

“I don’t understand..just transfer or leave if they keep picking on you why stay?” your best friend who was currently studying across the country said.

A white towel wrapped around your head and a hot pink one on your body, “and let them win? Let them think they got the better of me and be another girl they got to leave? You must’ve forgot who I am, and they got me all the way fucked up if they think they can bully me into leaving. I chose to come here and that’s where I’ll remain for my last two years.”

His head fell back, “prideful ass. It’s only two years transfer your credits and come study with me.”

“You're right,” you removed your head towel, “it’s only two more years..so I’ll finish here.”

You flashed a smile and he rolled his eyes. I applaud you for your efforts but I’m not leaving.

“Stubborn as a mule, I’d expect nothing less. What are you gonna do about your laptop?”

You sighed and squeezed the towel into your wet hair, “well luckily for me I sat at the table that has the security camera pointed directly at it anddd if all goes well they’ll hand over the footage I’ll ask her to replace the Mac and if she says no I’ll take her to court.”

“And if they don’t have it?” he switched out of his shirt and into his work uniform.

“…then I’ll resort to old habits.”

“I thought you left beating people up in the past.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures…she’ll pay one way or another.”

“Good god,” he exhaled heavily, “text me when you get home so I know you didn’t kill anyone please”

“Eh we’ll see.”

ෆ

The bell atop the door chimed as you stepped in. Few patrons sat sipping and chatting to each other. Made sense being that the place closed in a little under an hour. Aiming for the cashier you asked for the manager and explained the situation. You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t realize you held as he went to the back. That bell chimed again and you glared at the man who entered. Ichigo.

“____? That’s your name right?” Ichigo stood next to you. So casually as if two friends were just meeting up. Your only reply was an eye roll. “I’m sorry for what ‘Gina did, I'll replace your shirt and pants.” He dug in his pocket searching for his wallet, “I’m Ichi-”

“kurosaki I know. We're in the same major class and I don’t want your money or that half ass apology especially if it’s on behalf of her.” malice laced your words.

“I feel bad for what she-”

“If you came here to,” you furrowed your brows, “how the hell did you know I was gonna be here?”

“I’m sorry it seems that camera hasn’t been working for a while. I can check the others if you like.” It was more of a question than a statement.

You faced your classmate, “no need. You can tell your girlfriend she can either replace my property or she’s gonna be in for a painful awakening.” You smirked already out the door before he could speak.

“____,” he trailed behind you like an abandoned puppy, “I’m not your enemy okay. For fucksake ____.” His hands gently grabbed your waist, guiding you to the wall of your apartment building. Arms on either side of your shoulders. Goodness he was a sight to behold. He wasn’t your usual type but with a voice that husky and low many exceptions could be made. Too many.

“Listen to me..please,” he huffed, “I’m sorry my rude clumsy girlfriend damaged your shit. Okay, I really am, and I’ll make her apologize too if it’s the last thing I do but let me replace the laptop.”

“Rude? Clumsy? Your girlfriend..that bitch is a fucking bully. Nothing but a pretty face with a nasty spirit.” you shoved him but he didn’t move, “how could you even be interested in someone like that? Don’t you want better for yourself?” You looked into those amber eyes and your blood all but bubbled. Fierceness and honesty scorched through him. A strong wind whipped across your heated skin and then it came. A loud crack of thunder accompanied with a strike of lightning. Shit. The hurricane. How could you forget about the weather warning.

You grabbed his arm dragging him into your high rise apartment. Better safe than sorry. He looked out the window watching the rain slice in every direction. “Barely made it,” your shoulders dropped. He approached you forcing his credit card in your hand. “I’m not taking your money,” you snarled, eyes falling from his..then lowered to those enchanting lips. A second too long did you let your gaze linger. A second was all he needed to notice. To follow your line of sight.

“Is it something else you..something else I can offer?” Ichigo raised a brow, a mild blush on his cheeks.

You looked his body up and down as spite pricked at your emotions and thoughts of what he looks like under you rippled through your mind. Your face was undoubtedly straight, easily mistaken to be uninterested. He took a step back for every inch you moved forward until his legs hit the couch and he sat, “Regina’s not gonna appreciate this.” You straddled his hips and he welcomed you with open arms and a cock that throbbed between your clothed bodies.

“Regina’s not here,” his hands trailed under your shirt massaging your breast. Ichigo nearly tore your top to shreds trying to remove it. Unclamping your bra in the process. His face settled between your tits before taking a hard nipple in his mouth. Tongue graciously sucking and licking the buds.

“So eager to fuck a woman who isn’t your partner,” your fingers gripped his soft locks as you released a breathless sigh at the sensation.

He pulled back, letting go of your bud with a pop sound, “I am when she brings me to her crib and throws herself at me.” His fingers dug into the sides of your ass grinding your cunt on him. A soft groan left the both of you and you kissed him. Sloppy, lustful and full of so much spite. Slick collected in your panties and partially your pajama pants. Eyes shifted down his body landing on what lay next to him. Fell out his pocket and right into the wrong hands. “Fuck I needa feel that pretty pussy on me” he sucked your bottom lip allowing his teeth to graze over it before releasing. Hands fumbled at the button on his pants. Just as needy, you removed your pajamas, sliding your panties to the side.

Fuck,” he pulled your hips down bottoming out inside of you forcing a mix of a moan and a yelp, “so tight.”

“Not so fucking rough,” your cunt fluttered around him and he stilled. Watching. Impatiently waiting for those words. A sign. His hands slid up your waist rubbing your breast more gently and attentively than any other guy you’ve been with. Something close to infatuation filled his gorgeous features.

“God your so fuckin pretty,” he whispered, “can I move?”

You nod. He lifted you up much slower this time. Carefully as if you were made of glass. Dropping you down on his cock that was already pumping precum. His raw length sent shivers down your body from the size alone. The stutter and hesitation in his hips revealed his fear of hurting you. Breaking you in half on his dick.

“Ichigo,” you demanded, “don’t make me regret bringing you here.” Your pussy clenched as tight as it could around him and his back straightened. Nails making indents in your ass. It took every fucking bone in his body not to lose control and pump into you until his cock was soft again. “Fuck me like you mean it.” You nipped at his cheek.

Confidence had him hitting every golden spot he could down there. Only being affirmed by the sweet noises you made. His favorite fucking sound that he could listen to for hours. Wanted to listen to for hours. You left kisses in a path down his neck glaring at his phone. Matching his rhythm you grinded into his thrust sending his head back, eyes shut. You snaked your hand to his chin and twisted it opposite to yours. Baring the exposed sensitive skin on his throat you risked it.

Snatching his phone you slid your tongue on his soft flesh. Not daring to slow down in the slightest or release your grip. “r’fuckin me so good honey. Feel amazing inside me,” you moan in his ear not removing your eyes. He grunts to pussy whipped to scramble the words together. No lock. You pondered if he was bold or just stupid. You wince at the half finished message on screen.

Bit of a dickhead move to dump a girl over text even if she was a piece of shit human

You open the camera staying in the messages with Regina and move to the video option. Ichigo’s head falls back as you take a handful of his silky hair..and press record. Arm outstretched so she can see that you're riding him and he’s under your complete control. Exaggerated moans fall from your throat and he responds with his own to match

“Fuck. So wet.” Is all he managed bringing a big pale hand down on your ass more than once. Your back arches and your chest presses into his.

“Love this pussy? I fuck better than your bitch don’t I?” You made sure to say loud enough for the mic to pick up.

“Fuck yes,” he mumbles, “wanna put a baby in you.” You drop down and on his cock and still yourself. Releasing a guttural moan.

“Open your mouth and I’ll let you fuck me from the back.” Hand still tangled in his hair, he obeys. You lean over spitting on his tongue and shoved yours in his mouth after it. He tasted as good as he felt. Your orgasm wasn’t too far behind. “Gonna nut in me?”

“Yes,” he chanted, “love this pussy, god I love you.” He didn’t. It was the lust speaking for him. That you couldn’t deny. Point taken, you ended the video and made sure it was delivered alongside the half finished breakup text.

“Ohhh shit,” you both said, for two different reasons. You were unfolding in each other's arms. Yes. But that video. It was too late to see the other contact icons at the top.

A group chat. This asshole was gonna dump her in a group chat. Not that I have any room to talk. His problem to deal with when I kick him out.

The apple logo flashed before the device shut down. You let go of his hair and his thrust became uncontrollable. Smashing every sweet spot he could find until he couldn’t hold back anymore. His cum coated your walls and in the blink of an eye he had you face down. Ass in the air on full display. His thumb rubbed against your hole pushing deeper and he slid two fingers from his other hand in your cunt. Not caring his cum gushed out with every pump. You winced hard as you clawed at the couch. Allowing your release to overcome you. “Good baby get it all out.” His voice an unfamiliar gentle sound.

His cock head patted your core before he relentlessly drilled into you. Mildly painful from the sudden penetration but overwhelming pleasure coursed through you. Waves of overstimulation washed over your body. The coin was flipped. He held the control over you. One of ichigo’s hands held onto the fat in your ass and the other rubbed overbearing circles on your clit. “Kurosaki,” you whined. Eyes in the back of your head.

“What is it baby? Wanna make another video?” He chuckled at the brief halt in your moans. He placed one dirty sneaker on your ebony cushion. Following his second orgasm. Increasing his pace he pummeled your poor pretty pussy until more of his semen was overflowing. He pulled out collapsing on the couch, lifting you in his arms.

“How did you know?” Embarrassment barreled it’s way to your chest and face. Avoiding looking in his direction.

“Peripheral vision is a thing baby.”

Not your baby.

“Are you not mad?” You fingered his necklace.

He shook his head, “I knew it wasn’t gonna last to begin with but…we’re not talking about that. I could have stopped you at any time but honestly I wanna see her react..their reaction just as much as you do.”

You smirked.

Asshole.

[inez-winchester-cameron]

"First Period"

↠Pairing: Dean and Sam Winchester x little sibling!reader (afab)

↠Summary: Dean and Sam help their little sister out as she experiences her first period (FLUFF)

↠Notes: reader is around 14, really late first period lol

-

Dean and Sam had raised you, their half-sibling, since they were twelve and seven. John had dropped you off to them one day, explaining that you were from a hook-up he had and your mother wanted nothing to do with you. So from that day forward, Dean and Sam took care of you. It was rough but they managed. 

Dean had known something was off since lunch, he just didn’t know what. After devouring your meal as you always do, you started complaining of your stomach hurting. Like the supportive brothers they were, they stopped at the gas station and grabbed you some medication but nothing seemed to be helping. You guys were still a good ways away from where you needed to go, nearly four hours. So you just suffered in the back of the Impala, holding your stomach while listening to Dean’s rock music. 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat after a bit and felt something wet. You raised an eyebrow and looked down, moving over to see what you had sat on. Although it wasn’t visible on the black seats, you felt the wetness and lifted your finger up, discovering it was blood. Your eyes widened and you quickly looked at your body. Your jeans were absolutely soaked in blood, right on the crotch.

Being raised by two brothers with minimal education, didn’t really allow much time for “the talk”. Sam had minorly explained what a period was a few years back, but he didn’t get specific details, as he had been interrupted. It was then forgot about, why would they even remember something like that? Due to your limited social interaction with other kids, you had barely heard any talk of periods, pads, tampons, etc. You were a little panicked, looking at the blood and at your jeans.

“Umm,” you mumbled, and Sam glanced back.

“Y/n? Why’re you out of your seat? You should have your seatbelt on.” He turned back and his eyes widened at the giant stain on your jeans.

“S-Sam, I think I'm bleeding…” You mumbled. 

“You’re ble- what!?” Dean exclaimed, looking back. Dean slowed to a stop, pulling over. He then looked back to and his eyes also widened, “Aw fuck.”

Sam picked up on your panicked expression and quickly gained his composure, “You’re alright, Y/n. It’s just your period.”

“My- my period?” You asked, taking a minute to process.

“You didn’t give her the talk?” Dean questioned.

“No he did I just-” You defended the younger brother, “I just didn’t realize it would be like- this. Ummm..what do I do?”

Sam had briefly explained not what it was, but not what to do about it. Your face burned in embarrassment. Sam reached out and gently touched your knee while Dean pulled back out onto the road, “You’re okay, Y/n. We need to stop for some supplies okay?”

You slowly nodded, unsure of what he meant. You waited patiently, anxiously as Dean pulled into the next convenience store. Sam and Dean both went to get out, “Wait-! Can one of you stay?”

Sam smiled gently, “Of course. Dean, why don’t you head in?” Dean’s eyes widened, he didn’t know shit about periods. But he didn’t want to stress you out more, so he nodded and headed in. 

That’s how Dean ended up standing next to a random twelve year old in a convenience store. Dean stood there, hands in pockets, looking at what they had. The twelve year old, embarrassed, and too afraid to grab her pads in front of a random grown ass man, stood there as well. The two stood there for an embarrassingly long amount of time, waiting each other out. Eventually the girl’s mother retrieved her and grabbed the pads. Dean watched what she grabbed and grabbed the same exact ones. He then looked at the tampons. He ended up deciding on a variety pack of those. He played it cool at the register, pretending he wasn’t embarrassed to be buying feminine hygiene products. 

He eventually went back out to the Impala, getting back in and handing them to you, “There you go.” Sam glanced at him, silently wondering what took so long but Dean just shrugged. You looked at the boxes.

“Don’t worry about the tampons for now, just go into the bathroom and put a pad on your underwear, the sticky part goes in the middle, and the wings will fold onto the outside,” Sam explained, knowing his fair share of information from dating Jess. You nodded and went to do so, coming back later, “All set? Don’t worry we’ll get you new clothes as soon as we get to a motel and can find a store.”

You nod and set the bag to the side. Dean pulls out onto the road, glad this whole situation was over. Eventually you piped up from the back, “Hey, how do the tampons work?” Sam went to answer and glanced at Dean, smiling a little at what he was about to do.

“Don’t worry, Dean will explain that one to you later.”

[hellmouthcity]

QUICK FIX - Nebula x Reader

details: fluff oneshot , fem/nby reader. this is somewhat of an AU where nebula sticks around after yondu’s death for a bit

summary: you’re an electrical engineer temporarily hired by the guardians for ship repairs and general weapon tinkering. nebula’s cybernetic arm has been acting up a little lately, so it’s a good thing you’re around to help! if she’ll let you.

You never thought being on a spaceship for not even a month would drive you this insane.

A few weeks back, you got a request to stay on a ship for a little while to be around for emergency repairs, since this band of weirdos seemed to always be having emergencies. When you saw it was the Peter Quill who wanted to hire you, you immediately accepted. Who hasn’t heard of them! It isn’t every day you get to hang out with the Guardians of the freakin�� Galaxy, even if you were just the repair guy.

Unfortunately, the crew here was just as unstable as their ship. It was a wonder how they didn’t blow the whole thing up from impromptu ‘weapon tests’, which consisted of the guardians firing blasters at each other in some twisted game of tag. They were a little rowdy for your taste, but you all got on well enough.

Peter, despite his douchery, was actually a pretty normal guy. He even liked to joke and have fun like your friends back home. He cared a lot about his ship, which you found a little respect in. He’d instruct you on the problems, and you’d find a solution. That always earned you a high-five or a pat on the back. The others seemed to tolerate him, especially Gamora. Your interactions were short and sweet, but she was kind. You noticed her get a little looser whenever Quill was around. It was gross in a sweet way.

On the other hand, Gamora’s sister was as far as you could get from social. She hasn’t said a word to you the entire time you were here. Sometimes you forgot she was even part of the team. On the rare occasions she’d leave her room, she was never around for long. You’d look at her as she passed by sometimes, wondering what she was like under her intimidating black eyes and cold shell.

You didn’t think about that for too long. You could tell her friendship had to be earned, like a wild animal that you had to let come to you. She seemed to be having a few problems lately. Technical difficulties. You heard from Rocket that her cybernetic arm [which you still think is insanely cool] has some problems shifting to weaponry mode. You wondered if she’d approach you about that.

Right now, you were fixing an airlock malfunction at the main port. It was having a problem with sealing properly after it closed. Yet another emergency. With oxygen escaping, and all that. At this point, you were used to all the high-pressure and near life-threatening circumstances. You just worked with your space visor on, which was coming in more and more handy these days. Everyone was in their respective rooms. You were alone out here at last!

There was one little problem though - your blowtorch was fresh out of juice. If only there were someone on this ship with a blowtorch arm modification! And if only it WORKED!!!

You exhaled through your nose at the thought of Nebula suddenly turning up to offer her help. It was the most unlikely thing in the galaxy, probably. No way that would happen. Just as you stood to go inform Quill about you issue, you nearly bumped directly into the girl you least expected to see.

“Ah- geez! You snuck up on me!!” You exclaim, surprised that she seemed to have indirectly read your thoughts. Nebula just looked at you, black eyes seeming to pierce right through you. You shivered. Looks like you had to do the talking. “Um. I’m trying to fix the air lock, but my blowtorch just ran out,” you explained, pulling the trigger to demonstrate. No flame came out. “...and last I checked, there’s no fuel for this on the ship. So, I kind of hit a dead end.”

Still, Nebula said nothing. For a moment, you wondered if she was even capable of speech. Then you heard a weird kind of… grinding sound. Both of your attentions drifted down to Nebula’s arm as it sparked and jittered in an odd way. She grunted, smacking it with her other hand. It sparked even harder, and eventually stopped moving altogether. She couldn’t even move her fingers. She let out a noise of rage, shaking the immobile part. You couldn’t hold in a little giggle. Her head snapped up to face you, and you instantly went silent.

“Is this funny to you?” Nebula demanded, voice deep and serious. You hadn’t heard her voice before. It was powerful and threatening. She meant business, and it felt like you wore pyjamas to the interview. You took a step backwards, a little worried for your own safety. She may not have a functional arm blaster, but she could still knock your lights out.

“No, no, sorry. Very serious.” You said quickly, avoiding her glare. She let out a short sigh, now more closely examining her malfunctioned part. You looked, too. If only she’d let you get in there, you could fix it… “You know, I could try and help you out with that.” You offered nervously, hoping she wouldn’t just turn around storm off.

“What makes you think I need your help?” The luphomoid snapped, jerking her head at you. You dropped your gaze a little. You kind of expected this reaction.

“Well, it’s just… it could be a little hard to repair one-handed, if you planned on doing it yourself.” You tried to reason. She looked at you, eyes narrowed like this was a trick.

“I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.” She told you firmly. You nodded, stepping back a little further in surrender.

“Right, understood. Just keep in mind I’m here if you ever need help.” You hoped she’d change her mind, but she wasn’t there with you yet. She just strode past you in the direction of her room, on her way to independently repair her own arm like the badass she is. You smiled to yourself, finding this cyborg a little silly. You crouched back down and decided to take a break. You’d continue in a little. And who knows? Maybe Nebula would change her mind.

Not even 15 minutes later, you heard footsteps heading in your direction. You looked up from the wrench you were adjusting to see Nebula had, as predicted, made a return. It seems she had no such luck in making the repair on her own. She was purposely avoiding looking at you, [working] fist clenched. She was embarrassed!! You decided to pretend like you weren’t expecting it.

“Oh? Back so soon? I would’ve thought you were going to fix your arm yourself!” You teased from where you sat, a little smug. “After all, you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.”

“Quiet!” She shouted, making you flinch. Okay, so Nebula’s not a fan of playful sarcasm. Noted. “You offered a service free of charge to me. I would be a fool to decline it.” You looked up at her, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, that’s true. Glad you came to your senses.” Carefully, like you were trying not to spook a feral creature, you stood. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.” You joked, and Nebula scoffed. She tried to roll her eyes, though it wasn’t exactly noticeable.

“Just do your job.” She spoke bluntly. You offered a smile and started to reach for her arm so you could examine it. She instantly jerked back and you retracted your hand.

“Well, I kind of can’t if you won’t let me see what’s up.” You tried to explain. Nebula’s eyes darted between your eyes and your hand, and she relaxed her shoulders just a little, almost an apologetic look drifting over her face before it was replaced with her signature cold neutrality. Slowly, she approached you and raised her arm, almost defensively. You cautiously reached out and started feeling for some sort of seam where a section could be unscrewed, but this was an odd piece of machinery. It was segmented in a lot of different ways in a lot of different places, so you weren’t really sure how to get a peek inside.

Nebula seemed to notice your confusion, so she sighed and rotated her arm so that her palm was facing upwards. On the underside, you saw a larger rectangle that stood out a bit from the rest of the metal. You quickly bent to collect a tool from your set, then stood to pry the covering off. And wow, was it even more complicated on the inside. You were used to things like this, though. Artificial automation is your jam. It didn’t take long to find the issue.

“Found your problem! Your hydraulic springs have popped out a little. I’m guessing these are what enable your arm to transition so smoothly to different physical states. If these springs undergo a lot of winding up then unwinding in a rapid manner, they can accidentally pop loose and you have to reset them.” You explained, motioning to the issue as you described it. Nebula watched intently as you spoke. “And as for the lack of movement, one of your circuits got tripped. Too much power started flowing through it, I’m guessing when you tried to force your arm to shift. Maybe don’t do that again, for future reference.”

“I see. Can you fix it?” She demanded rather than asked. You went down again to get another tool, returning with a thumbs up upon standing upright again.

“I sure can. This won’t take long,” you went quiet as you went into focus mode, recoiling the spring and even tightening a few loose bolts in other areas. You flipped a breaker off and back on again, and her arm jolted back to life. After applying a little mechanical lubricant, you closed her arm back up. “All clear!”

You confirmed you were done with a little finger-gun motion. Nebula looked at you, then flexed her fingers, which all responded accordingly. Her eyes snapped back up at you in disbelief, and you grinned.

“What did I tell you? I’m good at what I do.” You decided to toot your own horn just a little. But now it was time for the real test. Could her arm shift successfully? The panels and segments started to shift around and change, rounding where her hand was into a little cylinder-like structure. She twitched, and a small, blue flame sprouted from the tip. You looked up at her with wide eyes.

“You were trying to help me this whole time..?” You asked, stunned. She looked away from you, like she was checking if anyone else was near. The coast was clear.

“Guess we’re even.” Nebula said in a different tone that her previous harsh words. Your face crackled into a smile.

“Aw, thanks Neb-”

“If you let anyone one know I won’t hesitate to throw you into space myself. Understood?” She glared directly into your soul, making sure you knew she was serious. But you didn’t feel so threatened anymore. You kept smiling.

“Understood.”

[evelili]

I know it’s been ages since I sent one of these, I’ve been busy and I’m still busy so I don’t have time to read the full chapter BUT!! Here’s some of my thoughts and favorite lines from the beginning of this chapter. The Final Trial.

I really love how you write the memory sequences in this story. They all flow really well and don’t feel redundant!! The reveal of these memories twilight has hidden of Luna are so good!! God!! Her devastation when she realized she had forgotten someone as important as Celestia’s SISTER her AUNT is AMAZING!!

-

her hair pulled back into a ponytail, her legs bare below the knees of a ridiculous pink-and-purple skort that she’d have been mortified to wear past puberty—eight or nine, then, she decided. It’s probably summertime, too.

-

God this mental image is so cute!! I had to google what skorts are but yeah they definitely fit Twilight and her character, especially as a kid!!

-

Twilight waited for her younger self to voice the familiar retort she thought she’d known her entire life—magic isn’t real; magic doesn’t exist; magic is fictional and fantastical and lies. But instead of a rational dismissal she heard her voice ask something completely wrong instead:

“You’re really going to show me how?”

And Twilight didn’t hear anything else after that.

-

DAMNNN this sequence is so good!! The way twilights world is just DESTROYED by this is fantastic!!

-

“Well, I wanted to check in on the two of you.” The door swung further open, and suddenly Twilight was face-to-face with the Celestia of her childhood—younger by nearly a decade and yet still recognizable in almost every way. She hadn’t ever thought time had changed her mentor much, but the contrast between present and past was far more blatant when not viewed as a gradual shift. No laugh lines. No grey hairs. No ice in her eyes.

Just a Celestia whose very presence made Someone bristle in response.

-

This description of her is DEVASTATING. She’s both somehow unhappier and so much happier with Luna in her life. The way you write her is stunning and I’m loving the conflict between her wanting Luna to focus on the future and Luna who is focused on enjoying the present. It’s a very cool conflict and I love how you’re handling it!! Them both caring more about twilights emotions than each other’s is heartbreaking

-

It did—to both the Twilight of the present and the past. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I get it.”

-

Fuck this line is FANTASTIC. The understanding twilight finds in her memories of Luna are fantastic and I’m very curious on how this will impact how she handles Nightmare going forward. Unfortunately I can’t read anymore tonight, but I love it so far!!

STOP THE CLOCK. I FORGOT THIS BANGER LINE: “You believe in magic, Twilight,” she said gently. “And so long as you do, that’s belief enough for me.” The way you write Luna and how much she and celestia both love twilight is DEVASTATING

(combined ur two asks together) WAHHHH thank u so much for the asks!!! and no worries abt taking ur time w the story, u only get to read once for the first time after all!

this chapter is definitely Up There in terms of how happy i am with how it turned out, im rlly glad u liking it so far! i dont know how much i can say without spoiling things, but a reminder to read on fimfic to get the Full Experience (epub missing images my nemesis), a rather important section will b missing otherwise!!

i think to me a big aspect of luna and celestia's relationship in the show that kinda got glossed over was that celestia may not have realized how her actions affected luna until too late. and, it's kind of the "road to hell with good intentions" thing, bc i dont think celestia is the bad guy (at least in tte) for believing that the best way to help someone is plan, prepare, try to think ahead and look forward, etc. but, this kind of mindset can clash with someone who, at that moment, finds the prospect of thinking about the future so impossible. writing from life helped a lot in this regard :)

also, completely unrelated but also related, have a meme :D and thanks again for reading!

[evenhisfacewasanalias]

After Hours

Lady Jane Grey/Guildford Dudley

Rating: Teen

Modern AU - Jane is an overworked medical student at Cambridge who is in dire need of a date to her sister's engagement - all in order to keep Lady Frances from setting her up. She decides to bring the worst guy she can find and make her mother regret her meddling. Guildford is playing in a rock band at the local pub, and Jane of course picks the man she was always going to.

Really just an excuse to give Guildford a little earring.

“She’s gone completely off her rocker!”

Susannah shakes her head at her friend’s histrionics, and Jane knows she’s being ridiculous.  They were supposed to be at the pub to unwind and catch up. The loud band playing in the corner isn’t helping much, however. They’re nearly shouting to be heard over the screeching guitar and excessive drumming.

“I would have thought having one daughter getting engaged might soothe the savage beast?” 

Jane practically chugs down the second half of her pint, “Oh no, not Lady Frances Grey - if anything this has only sped up her timetable for having me married off. I need another drink.”

“You’ve had two already. Isn’t alcohol poisoning something you learned about at that fancy medical school o’ yours?” Susannah laughs, pulling her friend back to the small table.

“My fancy medical school is half the reason I drink,” Jane sighs. “The other half is Mum’s new threat to set me up with Lord Dudley's son.”

“Stanley Dudley? That's cruel, even for Frances. Besides, I'm pretty sure he has a thing for your mum.”

And that part is probably true. She thinks she caught Stan attempting the boombox move from Say Anything outside her mother’s window on winter break. Only her window was four stories up, and an mp3 speaker didn’t have quite the same impact. She’s been trying to forget the memory of it ever since. She often tries not to think too hard about her widowed mother’s love life.

“Not Stan, at least. Apparently Lord Dudley has another son we've never even heard of - some Oxford dilettante off gadding about.”

“Oooh collegiate rivalry, could make for some great shagging.” Susannah is little better than her mother at times with the way she fusses over the lack of men in Jane’s life, but at least her best friend isn’t trying to marry her off to some vagabond Lord.

“My mother’s taste in men tends toward the vapid.” So does Susannah’s, but in the name of friendship, Jane won’t mention this.

“He doesn’t need a doctorate to be good in bed,” Susannah shakes her head at her friend. “Though I feel like I should have an honorary one in the subject, at least.”

Jane laughs at her friend’s ego, though secretly she can admit she admires her confidence. “He doesn’t need a doctorate, but he should at least be able to manage his end of the conversation.”

“I forgot that a lively debate was practically foreplay for you.” 

Jane snorts out another laugh. She’s not even getting that much lately.

“So then what else is on ‘Jane’s list or a shaggable man’ - other than his oral skills?”

Jane’s face heats at her friend’s joke. It really has been too long if she’s blushing over some double entendre. Single entendre, really.

“I can’t even think about men with studying for exams this month.”

“Or last month, or the one before it. Find a hot enough bloke and you’ll make the time.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to find Mr. Right in this pub.”

She looks around at the crowd - it’s mostly secondary students and couples at the bar and tables, with a few grungier looking guys gathered around the stage. This isn’t really the sort of venue where she’d hope to find a worthy suitor.

“I’m only talking about Mr. Right Now,” Susannah teases.

“That doesn’t exactly help me with the engagement party situation.”

“It’ll help you to relax a little about the engagement party situation,” she winks.

And ok, maybe Susannah has something of a point - she’s survived her mother’s nagging for twenty four years, it usually takes a little more than a set-up to wind her up like this. But still, the threat of it remains her most pressing concern.

“It won’t help me much unless it gets my mother to back off.”

“Why not just bring some random guy as your date then?”

It’s not as though she hadn’t considered it. She’s not exactly attending a convent, she could have just invited one of her fellow med school classmates. “Because then my mother still wins.”

“And we can’t have that, can we?” Susannah is no fan of her mother either, but she can never resist mocking what she calls Jane’s ‘contrary’ nature. “Well then, make Frances regret it. Bring someone she’ll hate.”

Susannah has her own spiteful streak as well. It’s why they’ve always been friends, even when Susannah stopped working for her mother.

“So any man without a title, then?” Jane suggests. 

Her father had been a Duke and her mother refused to entertain anyone lower in rank than a Viscount. Her sister Katherine was already pushing it, marrying the Earl of Hertford.

“Worse.”

“A man without a trust fund?” 

“Worse,” and then Susannah’s eyes are shifting over towards the makeshift stage, to where the band is still wailing to the world’s smallest mosh pit.

Jane chuckles at the idea - it would certainly make her mother’s head spin. The members of the band - The Affliction, apparently, very fitting - look to be about her own age, but they’re about as far away from her social class as they could get (a characteristic Jane preferred and her mother detested). Definitely not a title or trust fund to be found among the lot of them - not with the sorry state of their clothing and instruments. They’re all decent looking enough, in a tattooed and leather jacketed bad boy kind of way. If you were into that sort of thing, which Jane most assuredly isn’t. Or at least she had never considered herself to be - she didn’t care to be so predictable. But objectively, they’re an attractive bunch. They’re what loosely might be called a rock band, but they’re playing in this shithole of a pub so clearly they’re not very successful. And most importantly, her mother would be livid at the sight of any one of them.

That, plus the two pints in her stomach, has Jane actually considering this mad gambit of Susannah’s. What if she did bring some wannabe rockstar to the engagement party? Katherine wouldn’t mind - at least not much. And she’d certainly forgive Jane when she saw her engagement gift: a minibreak stay at a B&B in Chipping Campden to escape their mother’s wedding planning. Her mother, however, would never forgive her. Jane might even get uninvited to several events she’s been dreading. She smiles at the thought.

However, Jane doesn’t want to be uninvited from the wedding entirely, so she does some quick research before she even begins to truly contemplate this madness. Susannah laughs at the sight of Jane googling, though she hadn’t laughed when Jane used her powers of research to perform recon on her friend’s sketchy tinder dates. She doesn’t want either one of them getting axe-murdered by some random guy - a fact which Susannah usually appreciates. And even though she wants to piss off her mother, she’s not about to bring some registered sex offender to her little sister’s engagement party. 

The Affliction has a facebook page, and a soundcloud, but nothing professional. That’s good news on the unsuccessful front, neutral on the ‘is one of them an axe-murderer’ question. She looks at the band members individually. It turns out the bassist is actually a woman, with a very cute pixie cut and great bone structure - Jane briefly considers the possibility of giving her mum a heart attack by bringing home a woman, but is quick to realise she’s already married to the lead singer anyway. There’s two options out, leaving the guitarist and the drummer. A drummer would maybe get an extra rotation on the head spinning front, but in both the facebook photo and up on stage now Jane can spot a cigarette in the guy’s mouth. Gross. She’s seen too many textbook images of what the tar does to your lungs to think of anything else whenever she sees someone smoking.

Which leaves the guitarist. If she’s honest with herself, he’s the one she would have been drawn to out of all of them. Floppy brown curls, mouth curved into a devilish smirk - but thankfully no more than a spare pick pressed between his lips. A good jawline, with the barest hint of stubble. Warm brown eyes and surprisingly nice hands. She gets a little distracted watching strong fingers wrapped around the guitar's neck and deftly plucking at its strings, stacked rings only drawing more attention to his hands - though none of that really matters since she’s not actually looking for a real date. What does matter is the rips on his jeans, the way the sleeves are cut from his t-shirt to show off his many tattoos, and the glint of an earring she can spot even from back here. He’ll drive her mum batty. 

His name’s not listed on their facebook page - there’s apparently another guitarist who should be here tonight - but this guy’s in a few of the older photos. Including one at some kind of children’s charity fundraiser event, so at least she knows he’s not on any registries. And he’s probably not a criminal or anything if they’re doing philanthropy shows. There’s a newer shot with the entire band, plus him, all cuddling animals at what is apparently a shelter rescue gig. Another point in the not-a-serial-killer column. Still no name but there’s a tabby curled around his neck pawing at a pair of necklaces she realises are the same ones he’s wearing tonight. She’s always thought cats to be good judges of character. They’re certainly good judges of cheekbones, she thinks as she looks back and forth between the photo and the man on stage.

Someone tosses a glass bottle his way in between songs - to give it to him or to critique the music, she can’t be certain - but he catches it easily, tossing it back up again with a little spin before flicking off the cap to take a drink. Jane’s a little caught up in the line of his throat, those ridiculous necklaces. He leans over to the micromobile, and she hears his voice for the first time. 

“‘What I like to drink most is wine that belongs to others,’” he unexpectedly quotes Diogenes, and she falls a little in lust.

“Do you think he’d agree to it?” She asks Susannah, who follows her line of sight and grins at her choice.

“Do I think he’ll say yes to a date with a hot girl?” She gives Jane a look that implies she’s an idiot.

Jane waves away the compliment, and the word ‘date’. “It wouldn’t be a real date, just to get my mother off my back for a bit.”

“Then do I think a grown man playing Clash covers in a pub would say no to pissing off someone’s parents?”

“Good point.” 

The idea is left to simmer in her brain for the rest of the band’s set. They switch their conversation over to Susannah’s troubles. Things with the new guy are going well, but her best friend is currently working as an au pair for a family that doesn’t pay her anywhere near well enough to put up with their nightmare son. But she refuses to let Jane use her connections to get her a better job, or at least better pay, though Jane is slowly wearing her down. Or at least the Bradfords’ son is. Jane wishes she had something better to offer her friend for her repeatedly kicked shins than some paracetamol, but it’s all she has on her. She jokingly offers some anaesthesia whenever she finally gets her medical licence. 

“For me or for the wain?”

“Your choice. I think it’s better if I have plausible deniability on that one.”

“Ditto,” Susannah laughs, and directs Jane’s sight back towards the front of the pub, where the band is finally starting to pack it in. Susannah is no fan of Jane’s mum, but she definitely doesn’t want to get on her bad side. It had been hard enough wheedling a good reference out of her when Susannah had left. And this plan will definitely get someone on her mother’s shit list.

Jane has sobered up a little from earlier, but the idea is still the best one they’ve got. If nothing else it’ll irritate her mother, and spare her having to talk to some Tory-supporting wanker she’ll inevitably be set up with. She knows next to nothing about music, but she’d still rather hear about that than some guy’s stock portfolio all evening, or the endless name-dropping she was so often forced to endure. And he’d certainly be easier on the eyes. It only takes a little persuasion, and one good hard shove, from her friend to have her beelining towards the stage. 

She mentally assesses her own look tonight on the way there - heeled boots and a short-ish skirt that made her legs look longer, and a sweater that was more cosy than sexy but not utterly disastrous. She tugs her hair free of its messy bun and hopes her curls were behaving for once. Even though she was only asking for a fake date, she hopes a good first impression might tip the scales a little in her favour.

The pub isn’t overly large, so it only takes a few steps to push through the small gathered crowd to where the guitarist is pounding back the bottle he caught from earlier. She waits for him to set it down before she tries to introduce herself.

And he promptly belches in her face.

“You’re perfect,” she smiles. 

Normally, the rudeness would have her ready to tear into the man, but the entire point of this was to send her mother into a conniption fit. Bad manners was just the icing on top of a very offensive cake.

“I take it you’re a fan of The Affliction, then?” His grin is both lazy and arrogant, another point in his favour - or disfavour, as it was. It’s not even remotely as charming as he seems to think it is. 

“Oh no, your music is atrocious.”

“Then what is it I'm perfect for?” He seems a little taken aback by the dig at their music, but then he’s grinning again. “Or do you just have a thing for devilishly handsome guitarists?” 

Might as well rip off the bandaid. She takes a deep breath. “If I say yes, could I borrow you for a few hours tomorrow? I’m Jane, by the way.”

He takes her outstretched hand automatically. His hands are warm but the rings he wears are cool, and she can feel the calluses along his fingers as he grips her hand firmly.

“For like a gig? I’m not really…” He looks even more confused now considering she’s professed not to be a fan.

“Something like that - my sister’s engagement party is tomorrow and my mother is threatening to set me up if I don’t bring a date.”

“So you’re asking me on a date, then?” The grin is back in full force, and he keeps holding her hand.

“I’m asking you to rescue me from my mother for a few hours,” she answers flatly.

“You know what I find works best with parents?” 

The fact that he’s still smiling at her is troubling, but her curiosity wins over her good sense and so she asks him just what he thinks will work.

“Telling them to fuck off.”

“Yes, well I would love for you to swing by Saturday and tell my mother just that.”

He actually throws his head back and laughs at that. 

“Not that I don’t love telling off busybodies, but is there some reason you can’t just bring a real date to get her off your back? Surely your talents for flattery could win some undiscerning man over.”

Jane finally pulls her hand away to cross her arms in front of her, “If you wanted flattery then you shouldn’t have named your band ‘The Affliction’. And for your information, the reason I don’t have an actual date is because I’m currently too busy with my studies at the School of Clinical Medicine.”

He looks unimpressed. “Oh, is that like a local further education school?”

“It’s at Cambridge University, you halfwit.”

That grin again. “I’m fully aware, it’s called a joke - perhaps you’ve heard of them?” 

“This whole conversation is a joke!” She nearly shouts, half in frustration with the man in front of her but mostly with herself. Why she ever thought this was a good idea is beyond her.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you’re angry?” 

His nose scrunches a little when he says the word ‘cute’ and Jane can feel the rage rushing white hot through her veins.

But he keeps talking before she has the chance to tell him off. “Alright, I’ll come with you to your little party. If your mother’s half as easy to wind up, it might even be fun.”

And she’s annoyed at both him and herself for falling into his little trap, but she’s stuck on the fact he’s agreeing to come with her. 

“You’ll actually come?”

“Sure, why not?” 

Not giving him a chance to change his mind, Jane quickly lists off the party address and the time they should meet, typing her number into his mobile and texting herself with it. She neglects to tell him the dress code, half hoping he’ll wear this exact outfit again. The t-shirt is practically in tatters, which will infuriate her mother, but the arms they reveal are quite nice to look at - tattoos and all. She’s not usually into that sort of thing, but the designs there curve around the musculature in a way that scratches the part of her brain that’s been pouring over anatomy for the past three years. She imagines herself tracing the lines, listing off each muscle group in Latin. 

Jane shakes her head to shut down this line of thinking immediately. This is not a real date because she has no time for dating. She barely had time to come out tonight with Susannah, and she’s only in town at all tonight because her mother insisted on a small family dinner before the big event next weekend. She hands back his mobile.

“And what do I get out of this?” The guy asks, tucking his mobile back into his pocket.

Jane narrows her eyes. “What do you want?”

She sees him looking her up and down. And even though it sends a pleasant little zip down her spine, this is so not what tonight is about.

“Not that.” She states clearly and firmly.

“I didn’t even ask for anything,” his nose is scrunching up again, crinkling the skin around his eyes as well which threatens her resolve to keep this clean and simple. 

“Not that,” she repeats.

“How about 100 quid then?” 

“So you’re an escort now?” 

“Student loans, you know,” he shrugs. And she’s a little surprised to hear he is - or was - a student, but considering he’s quoting Greek philosophers in random pubs it makes some sort of strange sense. “Actually, I have a better idea - you said School of Clinical Medicine, right? So you’ve got medical training?” 

This was never a good start to a conversation, in her experience. “You’re not about to ask me to commit medical malpractice are you?”

“Is it really medical malpractice if you’re not even a doctor yet?” 

“Yes. ” 

“Well this isn’t that, I promise. It’s just a run of the mill bad idea.” 

It’s not at all as assuring as he seems to think it is. “And just what exactly is this bad idea?” 

“I have a friend that needs a doctor.” 

“And does this friend know about the National Health Service?” 

“They can’t help her.” 

Jane hopes his friend is just not a full UK resident or something, rather than some shady thing they’re trying to hide from an actual doctor.

“And you think I can?” 

“I think that you are in luck that I’m nearly as desperate as you are,” his eyebrow arches.

It’s a fair point.

“Alright then, where is this friend? And I’m not making any promises.” 

“All I’m asking is that you try. Just take a look and see if there’s anything more you can tell us. I’ll drive us there.” 

This halts her. “You’re not driving me anywhere - I’m not about to step into whatever van with blacked out windows you have back there.” 

“It’s a motorbike, actually.” 

And of course he drives a motorbike too. “That's even worse. Besides, I have my kit in my car.” 

“You have a medical kit in your car?” 

“It’s also a first aid kit, everyone should have one. Especially people stupid enough to drive motorbikes. And I know this may shock you, but sometimes people find out I’m in medical school and start expecting me to treat them.”

The insult has him raising his brows. “So you do this often then? Lure men into dates in exchange for medical advice?”

“No! I don’t lure anyone into anything. I’m certified in CPR and first aid, and I help people for free.”

“So I’m getting massively overcharged then?” He chuckles.

“You’re not risking your future medical licence, so I’d say you’re getting the better end of the bargain here.”

“Touche. But I’m not risking my life when you’ve been here throwing back gods know how many pints, so we’ll fetch your kit and then I’m driving us.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t been drinking?”

He holds up the bottle he’d been drinking out of - it’s just a soda. “Sober as a nun. I don’t drink when I’m playing.”

“I want you to know I’m taking a lot on faith here, pal.”

“It’s Guildford, actually.”

Guildford, of all names. She thought she had left the posh wanker names behind with this plan.

“It suits you,” she tries.

“I can hear the derogatory tone in your voice, but it’s a family name.”

“It would have to be, who would name a child that in the twenty-first century?”

“Perhaps the same sort of people who would name a child after a eighteenth century spinster?”

“And one of England’s most famous authors.”

He glances somewhere behind her.

“Well you certainly live up to your name, my Lady Jane - your chaperone over there appears greatly worried about your virtue,” he nods back to where Susannah is watching the two of them like a hawk. She signals her friend over to make the awkward introductions and explain the exchange.

“I highly doubt she’s worried about my virtue, just my common sense,” she clarifies before Susannah reaches them. “Susannah - Guildford. Guildford has agreed to come with me tomorrow to deal with Mum, but first he needs my help with his friend -”

“Winifred,” he supplies.

“Winifred, really? Your parents never even gave you a chance, did they?” She turns back to face her friend, “I’ll just grab my med kit from the car and you can drive it to your place or I can call you a cab.”

“No need, Archer’s already on his way. I figured when you two were chatting for so long.” Jane’s not loving the insinuation in her friend’s voice right now. “I just need to real quick -” and then she’s lifting her camera to snap a photo of Guildford, “hope you don’t mind.”

But Guildford just smiles for the photo. “I know the drill, I’ll give you my info in case you need to look into me first.”

He takes Susannah’s mobile from her and pops his info into her contacts. 

“This is almost suspiciously easy,” she stage whispers to Jane, but she smiles at whatever she sees on her mobile.

“Need me to verify anything?” He offers, handing back the mobile.

“Nope!” Susannah says, a little too quickly, tucking her mobile back into her purse. “You two have fun. All my love to Winifred!”

And then she’s out the door before Jane can so much as wave goodbye.

“Well that was weird,” Jane remarks to the empty spot her friend was just standing.

“Are you going to let my friends look you up now so I can make sure you’re not a fake doctor or something?”

“I never even said I was a real doctor, and it looks like your friends have already ditched you.” He glances back over his shoulder at the stage which is now empty. “Did they steal your guitar too?”

“That one’s just borrowed, I would never let my girl out of my sight like that.”

Jane resists the urge to roll her eyes at this - she imagines he’s even given his guitar a girl’s name, like “Lucille” or “Theresa”. She won’t give him the satisfaction of asking about it now, she’ll save that for when her mother is there to hear it. 

They manage to grab her kit and lock up her car with only a minimum of teasing from Guildford about her Prius. She expects to give him back the same when finally sees his motorbike, anticipating either some souped up American monstrosity or a barely-held-together dirt bike. 

It’s neither. It’s an older model, British-made by the logo, but it looks to be in good repair. It’s surprisingly tasteful, considering its owner. She still can’t quite believe she’s agreed to ride on it, however. Like some heroine in a novel racing off at the first sign of someone in danger, or a princess jumping on the back of a dragon to rescue an ill villager. She wonders what that makes Guildford. He’s certainly no knight in shining armour. A knight in shining leather jacket?

Only he’s handing that leather jacket to her. “I have two helmets but you should take the jacket.”

She presses it back towards him, “you don’t even have sleeves.”

Guildford pushes into her space and throws the jacket over her shoulders, “and you’re not wearing trousers. I run hot, especially after a gig, I’ll be fine. The drive isn’t that long.”

And then he turns away to pull out the spare helmet for her, tucking her kit into the boot, and she’s forced to accept the jacket. She slides it over her arms and realises that even though he’s not that much taller than her, she’s practically swimming in the leather sleeves. She shoves them up over her wrists and ignores his grin at the sight. 

Jane does fight to adjust her own helmet, drawing the line at letting him put it on her like she’s his girlfriend or something. She’s only doing this because some woman out there is in need of medical attention, and is apparently unable to find it anywhere else. Jane had considered the possibility that this was all some cheap ploy to get her back to his place, but there were much easier schemes, and even easier women. Had he had better manners, she might have been one of them. 

No, between his rude behaviour and his refusal to elaborate on the situation, she assumed it was probably just something embarrassing - for Winifred or for Guildford, it didn’t matter. Either  was fine by her, she would just build up her portfolio of funny medical stories a little earlier than most. And if things got too weird she could simply call a cab. 

She wasn’t chickening out yet, though. Even when Guildford straddles the bike and gestures for her to take the spot behind him. Jane had forgotten the fact she was wearing a short skirt.

“Eyes forward, mister.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he laughs, but turns to face the other direction so she can primly lift one leg over the bike, keeping a few inches of space between their bodies.

But Guilford has other ideas. Warm, gloved hands reach back behind her knees to tug her forward, pressing her flush with his back. Her skirt rides up a little in the process, but none of it matters because there’s not so much as a centimetre between them for anyone to see anything. He draws her arms forward to wrap around his middle. 

And he really hadn’t been lying about running hot. She can feel the heat of him radiating everywhere they’re pressed together. Her face is right at the nape of his neck, the curls there damp from exertion and peeking out from underneath his helmet. He smells faintly of sweat and soap and leather, but mostly he just smells really nice. She resists the urge to lean in further, and her helmet thankfully stops her from doing something as embarrassing as pressing her face into his shoulder.

“Alright then, feet on the pegs,” he explains, and she scrambles to get her heeled boots locked on the second set of pegs, “arms tight around me, and lean with me around any curves. I’ll try and be gentle since this is your first time.”

She can hear the smirk in his voice and she wants to hit him, but he’s revving the engine and they’re rolling forward and Jane can’t do anything but hold on. 

He doesn’t peel out, however, and she’s forced to realise he actually does seem to be taking it easy on her - keeping just under the speed limit and avoiding any sharp turns. The wind whips a little at the bare skin of her legs, but otherwise it’s surprisingly…pleasant. Not that she’ll ever admit it. And with Guildford unable to open his mouth and say anything obnoxious, she’s allowed to simply enjoy the feel of her arms wrapped around a firm waist, her legs pressed against warm, solid thighs. 

He takes her further out into the country, to where the manor homes of her former life were surrounded by the less familiar farms and cottages. She starts to envision Winifred as some elderly relative or neighbour who doesn’t trust the NHS, but might allow someone of Guildford’s acquaintance to take a look at her. He turns off at one of the wide green pastures and the picture becomes even clearer. She’ll probably be offered tea and biscuits the moment she arrives.

****

“Winifred is a horse .”

“Yes, that's why you'll notice I brought you out to the stables to help her,” he says as if this is a completely normal thing to spring on a person.

“She’s a fucking horse.” 

“You catch on quick, you know that?”

“She’s a horse, and I'm not a vet.”

“Oh I'm well aware of that - her owner keeps neglecting to pay his bills on time and so no vet in the Tri-County area will come and take a look at her.”

Jane wonders at why Guildford cares so much about a horse that isn’t even his, but perhaps he’s a part time groom or something. Part-time musician, part-time student - she hated that she was actually starting to find him interesting. Most of the people in her social class did so little of anything - including not paying their vet bills. She wasn’t sure exactly who’s estate she was on right now but she wasn’t far from her own ancestral home, so she probably knew its owner. She decided against asking, however, not exactly wanting to give away her own position. Jane didn’t want to be lumped in with Winifred’s owner, even though she couldn’t pinpoint why she cared so much about Guildford’s opinion of her.

But he’s not looking at her right now, his full attention is on Winifred. His hands are stroking at her face and sides, quieting her where she’s startled a little bit at the lights and the presence of a stranger in her stall. 

“She’s been fairly agitated these last couple weeks - restless even, doesn’t want anyone near her except Rupert and me. And she’s been picky about what she eats. We thought she might have hay belly but Rupert’s been buying her the good stuff himself.” Jane has no idea what hay belly is but at least it’s already been ruled out. “There’s a broken fence post out there though and it’s possible she might have gotten a nasty splinter or scratched herself on a nail or something. Could she have tetanus?” 

“If she had untreated tetanus for a few weeks she’d be dead by now.” Jane might not know horses but she knew tetanus, and horses and sheep were even more susceptible than humans.

“Great bedside manner you have there,” Guildford finally looks back at her with a withering look. 

“They don’t teach bedside manner until year four, and besides, I’m telling you it’s probably not tetanus. One would think that would be good news.” 

He goes back to whispering sweet things to the horse, apologising for Jane’s words as if she’s the rude one here. She ignores the way her heart softens a little at his concern for the creature. 

Just in case, they work in tandem to check Winifred for any sign of splinters or scrapes. Jane shines her small torch along her limbs while Guildford carefully lifts Winifred’s hooves for her inspection. For as tough as he looks, he’s exceedingly gentle with her. It’s annoyingly attractive.

The buzzing of his mobile startles both girl and horse, and Guildford is quick to end the call and turn off the phone, looking annoyed at the caller ID. 

“Who’s calling you so late?” Jane has never been one to let her curiosity go unsatisfied.

“My father has somehow figured out I was going to be in town this weekend.”

“What happened to telling your parents to ‘fuck off ’?” Jane attempts to mimic the smugness of his earlier words.

“I think the nine declined calls sends the same message.” 

“The fact that he just called you again tells me it doesn’t.” Jane can commiserate, but she also can’t resist the urge to tease him a little after all his bullshit about not standing up to her own mother. 

“Once he gets something into his head, he’ll never let it go. He’s been nagging me to settle down for years.” And doesn’t that sound familiar.

“A commitment-phobe, how original. Well, I’d offer to show up as your fake date and return the favour, but I’m only in town this one weekend.” 

He snorts at the thought of it. “It’s probably not a good idea anyway - if I told my father I was bringing home a date he’d be booking the chapel and priest the second I hung up.” 

“He wants you to get married that badly?” 

“He wants me to live his life.” 

It’s like looking into a mirror of her own parental relationship. She can’t tease him about that one. “My mother doesn’t understand why I’m spending my youth getting ‘distracted’ by medical school, or my need for independence.” 

Frances Grey couldn’t understand why Jane needed a regular job at all, with no real power or influence, but she was still determined to do it on her own terms and with the full freedom of being unpartnered. It’s weird that this perfect stranger gets it better than her own mother does.

Guildford frowns a little at this. “Does that mean I need to convince her I can take care of you or something, because I…” 

A laugh forces itself out of Jane at the very idea. “Oh no, you just need to be yourself. Don’t change a single thing.” 

“...Alright?” 

Jane doesn’t want a knight in shining armour - especially not tomorrow. She wants the crass, barely employable tattooed guitarist to shake things up with her mother. She just hopes there’s no cute animals around tomorrow to soften his image.

She gives Winifred one last look over and pulls out her own mobile. “I can’t find any cuts or signs of swelling around her joints, maybe we should do a more general look at her vital signs?”

“Are you googling ‘normal horse temperature’?”

Jane looks up from the webpage. “I told you I’m not a vet. It’s not like I know off-hand what temperature a horse is supposed to be.”

“37.5 to 38.6 celsius,” he states, as if it’s common knowledge.

But he’s not the one with the infrared thermometer in his medkit. 

“37.8, as healthy as…”

“A horse?” He groans.

“I was trying not to say it. I can listen to her heart and then I can check her nose and ears,” she tells him as she pulls her stethoscope from her bag.

“Don’t you need to look up a normal heart rate for a horse?” She can’t tell if he’s mocking her or offering an honest suggestion. Jane already saw the rate range when she looked up the temperature question. She’s got the normal respiration rate range too, if needed. She may not be a vet, or even a full doctor yet, but she can memorise text with the best of them.

“Don’t you know it off hand?” She volleys back, half mocking herself. But also a little curious if he’ll know it.

“It doesn’t feel off.”

Guildford has his broad hand on Winifred’s chest, just behind her foreleg. Jane presses in beside him, sliding her hand and the stethoscope beneath his palm. He doesn’t move his hand immediately, but Jane tries her best to focus on counting the beats in time with her watch. 

32 bpm, another normal reading. She moves down to Winifred’s lungs, checking her respiration rate, and listening for any signs of obstruction. Normal again. Guildford is running his hands soothingly over her mane. Gods but his hands are nice. She checks her belly next, listening for the normal gurgles and peristalsis. She hears something else instead.

“Guildford?” She looks up to see the instant worry on his face. 

“How bad is it?”

Jane smiles.

“Winifred isn’t sick - she’s pregnant.”

He looks a little surprised by the news so she hands him the headset and guides the diaphragm back into place so he can listen to the second heartbeat himself - still faint but clearly distinct from its mother’s.

Guildford’s bright smile at the sound makes him look a bit like a kid at Christmas, and it melts Jane’s heart a little to see it. He still seems a little perplexed at the news, however. 

“But how? It’s all mares and geldings in here?”

“You said something about a broken fence?” She reminds him, and sees the exact moment when the thoughts connect.

And then he’s hugging her, lifting her in the air and spinning her to celebrate. Jane feels a little lighter too, oddly glad that she could deliver some good news after all. Guildford sets her back down slowly, keeping her still within the circle of his arms. Jane doesn’t try and break free immediately either. His eyes flick down to her mouth and she wonders if he’s about to try and kiss her. 

Jane realises she wants him to. His bare arms are warm around her sides and his lips look incredibly nice when they’re lifted by a real smile instead of his usual smirk. She tilts her face up towards his, and lets her eyelids go a little heavy. She watches as his tongue peeks out to run across his lips and she’s this close to just sliding her hands into those dark curls and dragging him down to kiss her. But then Winifred is butting her head against Guildford’s side, and the moment swiftly passes them by. Jane reluctantly pulls away.

“She’ll still need a real vet to come in now, if you can maybe find one that doesn’t know her owner’s a deadbeat. I could…” Jane catches herself before she starts offering to find a vet or pay for Winifred’s care herself. She knows that if Guildford actually shows up tomorrow, she’ll probably cave and offer anyway. 

“No chance you’d be willing to pop by for regular checkups?” He half teases.

“I’ll be back in Cambridge after the engagement party tomorrow,” she reminds him.

“...Right,” he accepts, clearly disappointed by the answer. He knows she isn’t a real vet though, and it’s not like she carries around equine ultrasound equipment in her kit. Unless he just wanted an excuse to see her again? But he’s already shifting away, “I guess I should get you back to town then.”

Before she even has a chance to work out if he wants her to stay - if she wants herself to stay - he’s walking out of the stables and expecting her to follow.

It’s a different kind of awkward, this time, climbing in behind him on the bike. He doesn’t make any allusions to her motorcycle virginity - or lack thereof, at this point - but he drives even more slowly than before. Jane gives into the urge to rest her chin on his shoulder, and allows her hands to splay a little across his stomach. Guildford relaxes a little at the gesture and she knows she made the right choice. The rest of the ride is pleasant, and she’s thankful she asked him to drop her off at her sister and William’s slightly more modest flat in town - all the easier to pick up her car tomorrow, and fewer questions about coming home so late - rather than her family estate, which would have been a far shorter ride and led to a great deal more questions.  

Even still, they arrive at her door far too soon, before she’s managed to figure out if there’s a way to recreate the moment from earlier. She takes off her helmet, and is pleased to see him do the same - this makes it much easier, if she can work up the nerve to get closer. She starts to unzip his leather jacket where she’s still wearing it, but he halts her.

“You can give it back to me tomorrow,” he tells her, taking the pull from her hands and zipping the coat back up.

Jane's eyes flick between the ringed hand at her chest - so dangerously near, but not taking any ungentlemanly liberties - and his grinning face above. Apparently she didn’t need to put in any work at all to revive the tension between them, it’s been simmering there the whole time. But since Guildford made his move with the zipper, she figures it's her turn to be bold. 

She reaches up to grasp at those tempting curls and finally pulls his face down to hers, kissing him with a certainty she doesn’t one hundred percent feel right now. Guildford is quick to catch on at least, and returns her kiss with equal fervour, lips sliding warm and plush against her own. 

The kiss quickly turns heated. Guildford’s clever tongue slips between her parted lips and he groans into her mouth when her fingers tug at his hair. His own hands have slid down to where her sweater and his jacket have ridden up a little, and she shivers at the rasp of callused fingers and leather half gloves at the bare skin of her back. 

Jane breaks their kiss only to run her lips over his lightly stubbled jawline, making her way towards the little silver hoop in his ear that’s been driving her crazy since she first noticed it. She delights in the choked off little gasp that tugging it with her teeth draws out, and the full body shudder when she catches the lobe between her lips. She can’t hide the squeak she lets out when he reaches down to palm at her ass, and pulls her in even closer to his overheated body. 

Jane realises this kiss is getting a little out of control for standing out in a fully public street, but his lips have made it to her throat and this is exactly how kissing boys who drive motorbikes is supposed to be. But in a strange way it’s also so very sweet. One of his hands goes to protect the back of her head when he pushes her up against the doorway, and he keeps peppering in these softer kisses under her chin even as his teeth scrape against tendons of her throat. 

He steps in closer and she can feel the solid heat of his thigh as it parts her own, and she wants so much to wrap her legs around his waist and tear off that stupid cut off t-shirt. But this is all a bit much for standing outside on Park Lane, and there’s not much privacy to be gained upstairs either. She reluctantly presses him back, smiling a little at the slightly dazed look on his face, lips flushed and kiss-bitten and his hair sticking up in wild tufts from where she’s been tugging at it. She imagines she looks equally a mess, panting into the space between them. Guildford reaches up to brush back her hair into some semblance of order, apparently also realising things have gotten a little out of hand, but grinning at whatever state she seems to be in right now. She’s already considering whether she’ll need to hide the evidence on her neck from her mother and sister’s eagle eyes tomorrow.

“My sister and her fiance are upstairs,” Jane tries to come up with a nice way to say ‘I’d love for you to come up but I’m apparently a teenager again who can’t escape my nosy family being in my business’.

Guildford seems to catch on to her meaning though, stepping back and taking her hand to press one last kiss to the back of her wrist.

“Until tomorrow, then.”

And then he’s driving off again, leaving her with her med kit in hand and lips still tingling.

****

Guildford isn’t outside when she arrives the next afternoon, as she had expected him to be from his earlier text. His jacket is still tucked into the crook of her arm. She looks down at her mobile, hoping to find some answer there. She had realised earlier she never actually learned his last name, so she had filled in his contact as first name: Guildford last name:Shit band from the pub, but thought better of it and went with the slightly kinder moniker of Guildford/Horse guy. And Guildford Horse guy has apparently just messaged her that he's already inside.

She hurries in, not wanting to miss the look on her mother’s face when she sees him there. Her hopes are dashed when she spots him already talking to her. Only she doesn’t look the least bit upset, which probably has to do with the fact that he’s traded the ripped jeans and leather jacket for a cashmere sweater and pressed trousers, stubbled cheeks and wild hair for a clean shave and cherubic curls, and he’s handing a bottle of Poggio Antico with a bow around its neck to Katherine and William. Just who the hell was this stranger? He somehow transformed into a mother’s wet dream! Only the sight of his ever present necklaces in the v of the sweater and the earring nearly hidden behind his artfully tousled curls give any indication this was the same man from last night. 

Lady Grey signals her over with a pleased look, and Jane walks over as if to the guillotine. Her mother barely pauses the conversation as Jane nears them.

“I was just telling Guildford here how you work much too hard at that school of yours and it’s so difficult to find anyone of quality there. And it seems your date for the party never showed -”

Her mother’s eyes go to the empty space at her side and Jane tries to interrupt her, “but…”

“ - though I thought, isn't it just perfect that Lord Dudley’s son also happens to be here, and also happens to be single.”

Lady Grey is smiling back over Guildford and Jane finally understands just how spectacularly her plan has backfired on her. 

“There you are, my boy!” Lord Dudley wanders over to join the farce, patting Guildford on the shoulder. “I see you’ve finally met Jane Grey - and here I thought you weren’t listening to any of your voice mails.”

​​The look on Guildford’s face when he too realises they’ve done exactly what his parents wanted almost makes up for it. 

Jane can only hope he was kidding about his father already planning their wedding. 

[kendrene]

Prompt: Ava/Beatrice + genderfluid!Ava please?

“Are you mad?” You have to force the words past the lump in your throat, not sure that you really want her to answer. But Beatrice has been quiet since you told her, and she has that faraway look in her eyes, the one she gets when she’s thinking too hard about something. There’s a book open in her lap, and you can tell, you are sure she hasn’t read a single word. 

“Am I-” Beatrice looks up, looks at you for the first time since you’ve said - mumbled, nearly lost in your cup of morning tea - hey, I don’t feel like a girl sometimes, is that okay? - and frowns. “Did you forget to unload the dishwasher again?” 

“Uhm. No?” 

“Ate all my leftovers?”

“Nope.” To be honest, you've been tempted. The kung pao chicken Beatrice ordered last night from Aunt Fēn had smelled very very good.

“Have you taken my fleece without asking? You know, the green one with the sleeves that are too long for you and you have to roll up?” 

God, you love that fleece. It's soft and cozy and above all it always smells of Beatrice, even after washing. 

"It's in the closet. I know because I wanted to wear it, but then I remembered I should ask you for it first."

"Thank you, Ava." Beatrice places a piece of paper in between the pages of her book, closes it and pushes it aside. "Then why are you asking me if I'm mad?"

You frown, shaking a corner of the napkin you've been tearing apart loose from where it stuck to your finger. You expected this conversation to be hard. You had resigned yourself to it. You’re not prepared for it to be confusing.

“Beatrice.” You begin slowly, trying to pick your words with care. It isn’t easy. You’re not the kind of person that often thinks before they speak. “None of the things you’ve asked me about make you mad when I do them.” 

Oh.

You blink.

Ohhhhh.

“Exactly.” Beatrice reaches across the table, squeezes your hand with a gentle smile. “So why would I be mad that you told me about yourself?” 

“I don’t know.” You admit, dropping your gaze. The tea cup’s left a wet ring on the surface of the table, and you dip the tip of a finger in it, drawing lazy figure eights. “Maybe because I kind of sprang it on you? Made you fall madly in love with me then went: surprise! I’m not a girl all the time, actually.”

“Ava.” Beatrice flips your hand palm up, tracing her thumb across it until she’s resting it on top of the small knot of veins at the hinge of your wrist. Your pulse quickens, races fast enough for her to feel. “When I fell in love with you, I didn’t expect you not to change.”

“No?” 

She shakes her head, still smiling. 

“That would be falling in love with an idea. But we all change, we all grow. Sometimes we have parts of us we don’t discover until we’re ready, or until we reach a turning point in life. There’s no time limit on it.” 

“So you’re okay with it? Even though I don’t have it all figured out, yet?” You want to explain that it feels shiny and new, but also familiar, like a pocketful of change you forgot inside an old coat only to be pleasantly surprised when you unearth it a couple seasons later. You want to tell her that some days you look at yourself in the mirror and you do see a girl, but not the kind that Sister Frances had in mind when she had refused to cut your hair as short as you’d have liked and forced you to wear dresses. That at night you lie awake till late, listening to her breathing even out as she falls asleep, and imagine the friction of your nape, shaved bare, against the cotton of the pillow. 

And, sometimes, you think, maybe, you’re a fraud. “What if I’m wrong?” Your voice shakes a little. “What if it turns out this was a waste of time?” 

“Getting to know yourself is never time wasted.” Beatrice lets go of your hand and comes around to your chair, sinking to her knees there. “I love you, Ava” She says and you cling to her words the same way she clings to your wrists, the two of you forming one lifeline. “Even if you eventually decide this label doesn’t fit. Even if it turns out none of them do, I love you.” 

You lean down, rest your forehead against hers and it feels a bit precarious, this position, like when people refer to you as she. But Beatrice loops her arms around you, steady. Ready to catch you.

And you know that, no matter what, she always will be.