#I think it’s more engaging??? but we’ll see how that goes

[lauraneedstochill]

My first choice (part 1/2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eyed prince to fall in love with. pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~ 5500 warnings: friends to lovers, slow burn (with very obvious mutual pining), angst, Aegon is a sad boy (but ends up being a pretty good wingman!) author’s note: this is inspired by “Little women” and Amy March in particular. I took the liberty to rewrite some plot lines because to me Aemond is nothing like Laurie (Aegon is ;) and I hate love triangles so we are not having any of that sorry. it’s a bit of a roller coaster so I divided it into 2 parts: the first one explains Aemond’s feelings, the second one is about hers. ✨ part 2

Part 1. How could you be so blind. Aegon knows he’s supposed to be relieved — he never wanted the crown and now that Rhaenyra is the Queen and a feast is arranged in her honor, he should be celebrating. And he may have been hitting the wine way too hard for the past couple of hours, but he can’t pretend to be happy, and he gave up trying to force a smile. It’s ridiculous that he is upset over this, and yet he can’t help but feel horribly useless. The prince drinks one cup after another until the room starts spinning and he can’t even sit straight — and then he suddenly finds himself propped against the wall, sliding under the table instead of sitting at it. Aegon catches a few judgemental glances but at this point, he couldn’t care less. There is only one person whose judgment he is afraid of — and it’s not long before he’s greeted with a displeased remark:

“When I asked you not to swoop too low, I couldn’t imagine you would literally lay on the floor.”

He looks up — and here you are, staring down at him, not even trying to cover up your disappointment. At any other time, Aegon would’ve at least tried to sober up, but today he’s disappointed in himself, too, so he doesn’t make an effort. Instead, he reaches out an arm to you with a lax smile.

“Would you like to join me?”

“I didn’t get the invitation to this pity party so I will pass,” your tone suggests you are not in the mood for jesting. “Now that you’ve succeeded in making a fool out of yourself, would you mind getting upright?”

“I think I like it here,” he retorts, shamelessly staring at the legs of the maids passing by. 

“You like wallowing in misery for all to see?” you huff. “Aegon, get up.”

He fakes a whine. “My legs gave out, I’m afraid!” 

“You would need to drink all the wine in the castle for that to happen, and I doubt you managed to do that,” you roll your eyes, taking a step toward him — but pause upon hearing a voice behind your back:

“You underestimate my brother.”

Aemond has a habit of sneaking up on people which often startles you yet right now you are too angry at Aegon to be bothered. You throw Aemond a glare over your shoulder but your eyes soften when you see the apologetic look on his face. It’s not the first time that the two of you find yourself in this situation — throughout the years you learned to work as a team: you bring Aegon back to his senses while Aemond helps to physically bring him to the nearest flat surface. You have never asked him for help — and yet he’s always there.

Aemond is about to lean down to help his brother up — you stop the one-eyed prince with your hand, your palm inches away from his chest. Anyone else would’ve thought twice before standing in his way but you don’t hesitate.

“He is perfectly capable to get up on his own,” you reject Aemond’s attempt, your eyes fixed on Aegon. “He can hold onto the wall shall he feel unable to stay on his two feet.”

There is something in your gaze that makes Aegon uncomfortable, piercing him to the bone. You are never downright mean or rude but with just a few words you can easily unmask his feigned recklessness. The prince stands up, tottering and feeling a little light-headed.

“Are you happy, now when I’m in the standing position?”

“If you cared about anyone else's feelings but your own, you wouldn’t be in this position,” you scold him while Aemond takes his brother under the arm to guide him out. Aegon tries to grab another cup of wine but you slap his hand.

“Do you ever get ashamed of yourself?” you hiss at him.

“Let me think... No, why would I?” he sounds sarcastic.

“You should be,” you whisper scream at him. “You can find nothing to do but dawdle and make a mockery of yourself!”

Aemond feels his brother shuddering at your words, and he tightens his hold on Aegon.

“Well, what else am I to do,” his voice is bitter. “Since I am not an heir and serve no purpose to the realm nor do I have any taste for duty.”

You slow your pace, and a sigh leaves your mouth.

“I feel sorry for you, Aegon, I do. I only wish you’d bear it better,” you reach out to stroke his arm but the prince bristles.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me. Your duty is to marry, and we will see how that goes,” he mutters before he can stop himself — and regrets it the very next second when you swiftly turn to him.

“At least I would be respected if I couldn’t be loved,” your tone hushed but sharp.

Aegon stops dead in his tracks, his wide eyes meeting yours. You moved away from the crowd into the hall, and it becomes silent. And then his lower lip quivers.

“But I thought that you loved me,” Aegon whimpers, his assumed nonchalance instantly gone.

“Oh, Aegon, how much did you have to drink?” you come to his side, lending him a shoulder to cry on. While he’s aggressively sniffling, you look at Aemond and quietly mouth “How many cups?”

“Way more than usual,” he gives you a wan smile, and you groan at his answer, taking Aegon by the arm.

“Alright, you can lean on me. But don’t get handsy or I will push you down the stairs,” your remark earns a weak laugh from the older prince, and the three of you head toward his chambers.

Aegon doesn’t talk much but his mood softens and you exchange a few jokes before finally reaching his room.

“I can take it from here,” Aemond suggests but his brother eagerly protests.

“No, I want to be tucked into bed! And definitely not by you,” he sticks out his tongue, and you chuckle at his whim.

“Aemond, I can handle him.” 

The one-eyed prince shoots you a knowing glance and holds the door open for you and Aegon to walk in. You slowly move to his bed, making sure he doesn’t stumble on his way — and then, with a sudden boost of energy, the prince flops down on the fluffy blankets, letting out a satisfied moan. You hold back a giggle and wait for him to crawl under the covers.

“Should I call for the maid to help you undress?”

“No, I am way too comfortable like this,” he pulls the blanket up to his chin, and you sit on the edge of the bed.

“I am sorry for the way I behaved,” he reveals, frowning. “I did not mean to, truly.”

“Aegon, you know I’m not the one you should apologize to,” you take his hand in yours, and he squeezes it with childish eagerness. “You left Helaena all alone. And you promised me you would make an effort.”

“I know, I know,” he yawns. “I was doing better until today, I swear, you should ask her,” his speech becomes incoherent as he is already too drowsy to talk, his cheeks flushed from the wine and the heat of the blankets. As you stand up to leave, Aegon mumbles:

“I fetched you a book... the one you were looking for,” he sloppily points to his table by the window before dozing off.

There is only one book so it’s easy to find — and when you do, you can barely contain a sound of surprise: it’s the complete history of Westeros, heavy and hardcover, decorated with gilding. You glance at Aegon but he looks fast asleep so you cautiously get out of his chambers.

If you were to turn around, you would’ve noticed that he kept an eye on you with a grin on his face.

When you walk out, you see Aemond still standing there, his gaze landing on the book and then immediately on you. It takes you a minute to figure it out and then you smile at him:

“Even though I appreciate the gesture, it is hard to imagine Aegon in the library.”

“He asked me to help him find the book you wanted. I did,” the prince explains as if it isn’t that big of a deal. But to you, it is — although you think he only did it out of politeness.

“Thank you, Aemond,” you enthusiastically turn your attention to the book, flipping through the pages in awe. He watches you, feeling the warmth in his chest at the sight of your joy.

“You know that you bring out the best in him?” Aemond says in a low voice, and your heart skips a beat at his comment. You are thankful for the dim lighting that makes your heated cheeks less obvious.

“You overestimate my influence,” you say, then dither before admitting, “I’m afraid I was too hard on him today.”

“Someone has to do it,” Aemond objects, and there’s something in his tone — sincere and soft, that makes you look at him again. At this moment, away from the prying eyes and the pressure of everyone’s expectations, you can see the side of him that people rarely get acquainted with.

“I think you are doing a pretty good job, too,” you tell the prince, finding his presence ever so calming. You could never understand why would anyone call Aemond intimidating when he’s been nothing but kind to you ever since you two met. Whenever you have a chance to be alone with him, his company always brings you comfort, and that feeling is so rare, you want to chase it.

But then you remind yourself of the harsh reality, and your smile falters.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” you look down at the book. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.” 

“You need to elaborate on that,” Aemond says uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve heard that you were courting lady Baratheon,” you explain casually, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitates before answering.

“Well, I only plan to,” the prince clarifies. “If she accepts my advances.”

“It would be silly of her not to,” you blurt out and, while you can’t see it, Aemond gives you a quizzical look.

“She may have her reasons —” 

“I can’t come up with a single one,” you tell him with so much confidence, Aemond’s heart flutters at your words but you continue without a second thought. “You are intelligent, good-hearted, handsome — and a really skilled swordsman. Not to mention you have the biggest dragon in the realm, which does sound like a reasonable perk.”

The prince is glad that you’re too preoccupied with the book to see his stunned expression. It’s not just the fact that you compliment him so easily — but also the way you do it. When other people try to, they usually start with Vhagar as if the old grumpy creature is the main good thing about Aemond. But you only bring up the dragon at the very end and in passing, instead keeping the focus on the prince. He is silent for a moment, letting your words sink into his memory.

And then Aemond persuades himself that you only said it out of politeness.

You notice his lack of response — and you are about to question it when a maid comes to you in haste:

“Lady Y/N, your presence is needed. Your father is looking for you.”

“Better not keep him waiting,” the prince encourages you with a grin. “If he finds Aegon, he might hug him to death.”

You playfully elbow him and turn to follow the maid but then stop to say. “Please make sure your brother stays in bed.”

“Will do,” Aemond looks at you walking away, clutching the book to your chest as if it's the most precious thing in the world.

To this day, it is truly a mystery to him how Aegon managed to befriend someone like you. You met the Targaryen brothers when your family was invited to one of the royal feasts. You were ten-and-three, the middle one of three sisters. Your oldest — Elaesa — has been the center of attention, beautiful and graceful, but while everyone’s eyes were on her, you looked a little bit disoriented. It was the first feast that you’ve attended, and maybe you got too agitated or overwhelmed — or both — but soon you ended up lost in the castle, and somehow ripped the hem of your dress in the process.

Aemond was the one to find you. The prince has never been keen on taking part in celebrations, often sneaking away from all the noise. That’s when he saw you — fussing with the dress, your sobs echoing through the hall.

“Are you hurt?” he rushed to your side, and you looked up at him with blubbered eyes.

“Why do you have so many halls? You should hand out maps so people can find their way back,” despite being clearly upset, you sounded unusually serious, and Aemond fought back a smile.

“I can help you find your parents without a map,” he suggested, and for a second it seemed to lighten your mood but then your pout worsened.

“I cannot go back,” you gestured at the dress. “I am in such trouble!” you whined, the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

Truth be told, Aemond didn’t have much experience with ladies back then nor did he know a thing about dresses but your distress seemed so genuine he couldn’t leave you be.

“It is not that bad,” he pointed at the ripped material. “I can ask our seamstress to take a look.”

You studied his face for a second, then glanced back at the dress — surprisingly, that was all it took for you to stop crying, and no other coaxing was needed. You wiped your nose and fixed your hairdo, smoothing the damaged hem the best you could.

“I’d appreciate it if you help me find my way back,” you said, your face seemingly more relaxed.

Getting you to talk was pretty easy, and Aemond shortly discovered how open-minded and outspoken you were, using your quick thinking to compensate for your timid personality. When you returned to the hall of the Iron Throne, he was reluctant to let you go but promised to come back with the seamstress. The task only took him about ten minutes, but when he did reappear, you were not alone — Aegon was standing next to you, making you laugh so hard, it looked like you forgot about the dress already. Aemond didn’t mean to interrupt as he suddenly felt very out of place, uninvited in his own home, so he abandoned the idea of helping you and just left.

At first, he thought you fell for Aegon’s flirtatious charms but soon learned that, as much as you did like his brother’s humor, his charms had no effect on you. On the contrary, you often chided him for hitting on young girls and openly condemned his affection for wine. Your honesty set you apart from all the ladies Aegon was surrounded with — and that was the reason he came to enjoy your company as much as he did. Despite the three years age gap, you were the one who told him the truth, no matter how ugly it might’ve been, but you did so without prejudice or any ill intentions. You would usually follow your critique with advice or a solution of some sort to keep the prince away from unnecessary trouble. That is why you were on friendly terms with Helaena, too, and your influence was also welcomed by Alicent, the then Queen. She liked that you were straightforward with your remarks and often said that you were wise beyond your years. Although, as much as Aemond agreed with it, he suspected there was a reason you had to grow up early.

It happened the same year you met — your older sister, with all her grace and beauty, ran away from home to elope with some unworthy beggar. Your mother was inconsolable for at least a week, saying that Elaesa brought shame upon her family. Your father, the kind man that he is, forgave his daughter fairly quickly and tried his best to restore peace. And yet, you came to realize that Elaesa’s vagary did cast a shadow over your House. Your youngest sister, Alyna, was a fragile little thing, frequently sick and tacit — which left you to be the one representing your family in the eyes of society.

Within a few years, there wasn’t a thing you weren’t good at: lords lined up to have a dance with you, ladies admired how well-spoken you were and shared a laugh at your florid sarcasm, and you learned to embroider, to ride a horse, to walk exquisitely dressed and with impeccable posture. But while for everyone else it was a reason to compliment you, Aemond saw the underlying cause of your diligence — the corrosive desire to prove one’s worth which was something he learned to live with as well. And which led him to think he understood you better than anyone.

More often than not he found himself watching you as if he had the need to make sure you weren’t in harm’s way. Helping you with Aegon was a part of that routine but it also gave him a chance to be alone with you. You talked about everything and nothing in particular, and he would catch glimpses of you — the real you, shy and emotional at times, but still understanding and perceptive. He cherished every opportunity to steal you away from the never-ending chattering, from lords ogling at you, from Jason Lannister whose interest in your company should’ve been concerning. Aemond has gotten so used to observing you, so enthralled with your covert conversations, he didn’t realize that a particular feeling was creeping up on him. But there was one person who turned out to be more observant than Aemond has been. Aegon was the mere reason why his brother ended up at your door a few days later. Aemond’s been to your place a couple of times and he promptly memorized the way to the farthest room of the house — the one you used to paint in. It was the only thing you truly allowed yourself to enjoy, an unexpected talent of yours which you soon perfected, too, except it wasn’t meant for the others to marvel at but plainly for you to keep your head occupied, to have some quiet time.

He walks in when you are already painting the finishing touches. When you turn to greet him, you stop mid-sentence, seeing that it’s Aemond instead of his brother who you were waiting for.

“He overslept,” the younger prince shrugs. “It isn’t a bothersome task to come pick up the portrait of my nephews.”

You point in the direction of the painting with the brush in your hand. Aemond admires your work — as he always does — while you try to shake off your confusion. There is another reason you did not expect to see Aemond today. You tarry with voicing your concern but eventually glance at him with empathy.

“I was sorry to hear about lady Baratheon’s decision.”

“I was not,” he’s quick to retort.

“I cannot imagine agreeing to marry a Stark,” you say, dipping a brush in a jar of water.

“Is it the cold weather?” Aemond grins knowingly.

“Yes! Gods, just thinking about it makes me feel uneasy. All the layers you have to wear to keep yourself warm, barely being able to move, getting no sunlight...,” you ramble, making sure to wet all the brushes before lining them up on the table.

“Some say they’ve got quite a beautiful scenery,” Aemond tries to object although he knows his argument doesn’t stand a chance.

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy that,” you huff. “How am I to capture the beauty if my paint freezes?”

He only hums in agreement, watching you busy yourself with your supplies. You go through the brushes, delicately cleaning the bristles with a cloth. Your fingers carefully take one brush after the other, and Aemond silently admires your love for neatness and order.

“You are staring,” you say without turning to him.

“Where do you want me to look at?”

“Aemond, you are in a room full of art!” you chuckle lightly. “Surely, enough options to land your eye on.”

The prince lets his gaze go around the place, and it takes him about a minute to quickly examine all the paintings. And then he inevitably looks at you again. Aemond thinks he likes this view the most.

“When do you begin your next great work of art?” he asks, hoping to distract you. 

You halt movement, then force out glumly:

“Never.”

“What do you mean?” he’s taken by surprise.

“I’ve come to realize that I’d never be a genius,” you reluctantly explain. “So I’m giving up all my foolish artistic hopes.”

“You cannot be serious. You have so much talent and —”

“Talent isn’t genius!” you throw up your hands in defeat, and he can sense your frustration from a distance. “I may be talented in other things, but when it comes to painting, I want to be great or nothing. And I am only of middling talent,” you scoop up the brushes, give them a quick look and place in another jar to dry.

Aemond wants to argue, he really does — but he also knows better than to try and persuade you when you are like this: firmly standing your ground, exuding nothing but stubbornness. In any other situation, he would’ve found it endearing but it’s upsetting to see you downplaying your brilliance.

“Hm, may I at least ask your last portrait to be of me?”

You instantly turn to him, taken aback. Throughout the years you’ve known him, he clearly expressed that he did not like being painted, and you only could make a quick sketch or two, at best, when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Alright,” the long-awaited opportunity makes you smile. “Next time I come for breakfast, I will drag you into the garden to pose for me,” you give him a pointed look, and Aemond humbly nods.

Your smile grows wider but you try to tone it down, afraid to spook him, and focus on wiping the nearest table.

“What are you going to do with your life in the meantime?” he changes the subject.

“Polish up my other skills and become an ornament to society,” you sigh, putting the cloth away.

There’s a brief pause before he says, his voice a bit strained:

“Here is where Jason Lannister comes in, I suppose?”

You say yes but the answer comes a little bit too fast, and Aemond notices that the topic makes you uncomfortable.

“But you are yet to be betrothed to him,” he clarifies, gaze fixed on you.

“I will be if he proposes,” your eyes meet his, and you are sure that there’s a shadow of disapproval on his face that only spurs your stubbornness. You fully turn to the prince to say: “I always knew I had to marry well, I do not feel ashamed of that.”

But Aemond isn’t looking for a fight — he swiftly corrects himself:

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. As long as...” — he can barely bring himself to say it — “As long as you love him.”

For the reason unknown to Aemond, his statement brings a bleak smile to your face.

“I believe we can have some power over who we love,” you object, lowering your gaze for a second as you start absentmindedly twisting the ring on your finger.

“I think the poets would disagree,” he chuckles, trying to defuse the unexpected tension. 

But when you look up at him, your glare is as obdurate as ever.

“Well, I am not a poet, I am just a woman,” you rebut crisply. “And as a woman, I have no illusions about my prospects which do not include me earning a living to support my family. And my parent’s fortune has its limits as I’ve come to learn. Hence why, if I want to have children — I do — and be able to provide them with everything they wish for, I must rely on my husband,” that last word is pronounced with disappointment. “So don’t stand here and tell me that marriage isn’t an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me.”

Had he not known you, Aemond would’ve been very impressed — with how blunt and witty you are, you are very good at delivering speeches. But as he’s standing in front of you, watching your face, he senses that your determination is akin to despair. Aemond thinks he might take a chance at arguing with you, after all — but you’re both startled by a knock on the door:

“Lady Y/N, Ser Lannister just arrived.”

You look baffled for a second, your confidence crumbling.

“Why would he — I, I didn’t expect him today,” you mumble, almost ashamed of his arrival.

Yet you pull yourself together faster than Aemond can come up with a reason for you to stay. You remove your apron and quickly examine your dress, then move to put on a cape.

“Did I miss any paint stains?” you ask Aemond in a haste.

“No,” he looks over the flowing material of your neat dress, your hair knotted up high — and then, “...Wait!”

You stop abruptly while he grabs a clean cloth.

“There is something on your cheek,” he says as you both step toward each other — and in the next second you are suddenly standing too close. 

You turn to him and shyly shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. Aemond is frozen for a moment but then carefully wipes away a slight smudge of green from under your cheekbone. His hand unwillingly lingers as he examines the delicate features of your face. You open your eyes, looking at the prince questingly. His facial expression is unreadable but it makes you wish you didn’t have to go.

You brush away that silly thought and stand back, fixing your cape.

“How do I look? Do I look alright?”

“You look beautiful,” Aemond says with no hesitation, taking you in — with your cheeks a bit flushed, lip parted and eyes shining. “You are beautiful.”

You seem a bit bewildered at his words but then a smile grows on your face — and in a blink of an eye, you’re gone. The prince is left standing there, staring at the spot where you were just now. The room suddenly feels so empty without you — and so does his heart.

The realization strikes Aemond like lightning: he wants to be the one you come to, at all times. The one holding your hand, watching you paint, or read, or dance — watching you do whatever your heart desires. Because his only desire is to be with you. That thought puts down roots deep into his chest, and he doesn’t know how to pluck it out.

Nor does he want to. It’s all he can think about for the duration of the week, until you come to the castle — with canvas and supplies, not hiding your excitement. He almost forgot about his promise but follows you into the garden without objection. You sense a slight change in Aemond’s behavior, him being more quiet than usual, but decide not to push the prince so he won’t reconsider.

“I will start with a sketch and then we will go from there. Alright?” 

He just hums in response while looking at you but you are unaware of the meaning behind his gaze.

“Take any pose you like, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” you suggest with a half-smile, knowing full well he will probably remain standing.

And he does, arms clasped behind his back, his eye never leaving your face. You immerse in the process too quickly to be bothered, the piece of charcoal in your hand sliding over the paper, leaving lines and shadows. Drawing Aemond is an effortless task, and you can only enjoy how easy it is to sketch the sharp contours of his face and his lean body. The simplicity can also be explained by the fact that you've already memorized all the details by heart: the curves of his cheekbones and his lips, the flow of his silver hair, the shape and cut of his eye.

When you are finally satisfied, you can’t tell if it’s been an hour or three, and the prince, as it seems, hasn’t moved a muscle. At this point, Aemond’s demeanor does worry you yet you blame it on his nervousness.

“Want to take a look?” you hand him a few sketches. “Mind you, I’m not finished so please don’t judge too harshly —”

“I could never,” his hand brushes yours when he takes the drawings.

Aemond has seen your works before but it’s a whole new experience when he’s the one being portrayed. He almost doesn’t recognize himself — you didn’t miss a single feature of his yet somehow this version of him looks too beautiful to be real. He is at a loss for words until he spots that there's another drawing hidden underneath. It’s a sketch of him sitting, both arms on the table, his face looks like he’s deep in his thoughts.

“When did you do this one?”

“After the coronation,” the memory makes you smile. “Made my poor father lug around with charcoal in his pockets while he was trying to keep up the conversation with Ser Lannister.”

It was the day you got introduced to Jason. You were supposed to be by his side, with your charming smile and polite talks, yet you spend your time drawing Aemond. He can imagine your gaze focused on the piece of paper, the way you must’ve been looking at him to capture every detail and movement — all of that without him asking to, without him even noticing. There is so much care in that act, he is unexpectedly moved by it.

The words leave his mouth before he can think them over:

“Don’t marry him.”

His request makes your hands tremble, and you drop the piece of charcoal, slowly looking up at Aemond, the smile disappearing from your face. He did not mean that, you must’ve misunderstood.

“...What?”

Aemond turns to you, looking you straight in the eyes.

“Don’t marry him,” he repeats, helplessly and desperately.

“Why?” you ask in disbelief, suddenly having trouble breathing. The only reason you can think of sounds delusional, close to impossible. You wait for him to come up with some clever explanation — instead, he comes closer to you, his gaze so warm it makes your cheeks burn.

“You know why,” Aemond says and his hand gently lands on yours. You look down at it, perplexed, your mouth opening and closing, heart rate speeding up.

He keeps his eye on your face as he waits for your reply. You are not repulsed nor angry — which is supposed to be a good sign — but the reaction he gets is actually worse than that. Because when you finally glance at him, you look hurt.

“No,” you yank away your hand as if his touch stung. “No, Aemond, you are being mean, stop it,” you take a step back, your eyes glossy and lips tight. The look you give causes him physical pain — while you are trying your best to fight back the tears.

His intelligence clearly fails him because Aemond has no clue what’s going on. He feels like there is a deeper meaning to your words but he does not get it.

“Why am I being mean?” he asks incredulously as you slowly continue putting more distance between you two.

You don’t even realize you are doing it — it’s almost an urge to not be in his presence, for the first time ever. The weight of his words feels suffocating and merciless. How easy it is for him to toy with your emotions, you think, and that cruelty of his — as you see it — wounds you so deeply, he might as well put a torch to your heart.

“I have felt like everyone’s second choice my entire life,” you bemoan, not being able to keep your agony bottled up any longer. “In everything, no matter how hard I’ve worked to be better. I thought you out of all people would understand that,” you sound raspy, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“So I will not be the person you settle for just because your first marriage proposal was turned down,” only when your voice shudders, Aemond finally understands how wrongfully you interpreted his intentions.

But you are out of his reach already — at least ten feet away from him, and the distance separates you like a giant chasm.

“No, I won’t. I can’t,” you are hurting so much, your feelings spill out like blood from a wound. “I can’t do it. Not when I have spent years loving you.”

His breathing hitches as your confession pierces through his chest — and he is left speechless, deafened by it. The moment slips through his fingers with unforgiving pace: you were standing so close only a minute ago — and now you are turning your back to him, rushing away. The last thing he sees is how broken you look, your shoulders slumped and eyes brimming with tears. 

Aemond stands, shocked and paralyzed until it’s too late — the garden is silent with your absence and the only evidence of you being there is your supplies scattered on the ground. Your words are ringing in his head, his heart heavy with a dreadful feeling.

He was afraid he would never have you — but he actually could have.

If only he wasn’t so blind.

➡ Part 2

yes, this is me blabbing again: I’ve watched this movie an embarrassing amount of times, and I’ve wanted to write a fic based on it for a few months. I did rephrase a couple of quotes but still tried my best to do the story justice. my apologies for the angst — just so you know, it was painful to write. also, will I ever stop using friends to lovers trope? only time will tell! (I probably won’t, though) I know there is a very heartwarming fic by aemonds-war-crime that was also based on “Little women” and it’s only fair that I link it as well!

tagging @greenowlfactif because you asked 💙 comments and opinions are VERY welcomed! 🥺 🎨 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[81folklore]

heaven - PIASTRI - final part

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams + pinterest)

summary: on the 2 year anniversary of oscars first win in f1, everyone’s favorite couple has a surprise

type: social media au (smau)

note: well this is it!! the final part to heaven!! this ending has always been the plan and im so pleased i can finally post it, this win has been a longgg time coming and i am super stoked for oscar!!! obviously not the best race (esp for mclaren fans) but we got through it and oscar won!!!! super duper proud of my mclaren boys and i cant wait to see many more 1-2 with them!!

i honestly cant believe this is the last part to this series, this was one of the first fics i ever posted and its crazy how far its come!! to this day i get notifs that people have found the first part to this series and it blows my mind how big this has gotten. i know ive been inactive for a long time but i hope by finally finishing this fic i will find love for creating fics again!!!! love u all🩵

heaven masterlist masterlist

set 2026

youruser

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 11,629 others

two years ago my best friend asked me to marry him, i said yes immediately. how could i say no to spending the rest of my life with someone i love so deeply?

today marks 6 months of him being my husband and i feel so incredibly blessed to be able to call him that, to be able to say that someone i love, loves me back just as much

but today is also the anniversary of my boys first win, which seems crazy now that he has many more under his belt but its true, its been two years since that crazy day in hungary and one that changed us forever

i have grown so much in the time we have been together and im so pleased i was able to do it with you, osc. i love you forever and always!

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

oscarpiastri my favorite forever🤍

oscarpiastri marrying you was the best decision i have ever made

youruser my boy🌟🌟

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri

liked by youruser, logansargeant and 1,382,003 others

i cant believe i get to call this gorgeous girl my wife, and i’ll be able to do so for the rest of our lives

you had never shone as brightly as on our wedding day, however youve continued to shine ever so bright since and i hope it never goes away, seeing you happy and content makes me feel like the luckiest man alive

thank you for saying yes all those years ago and thank you for trusting me with your heart, ill love you forever and always

your osc x

view comments

youruser i love you so much osc

youruser you mean the world to me

landonorris congrats mate x

logansargeant i miss you guys :(

youruser we miss you too logie!!! we’ll be home soon and we will take you to dinner!!

logansargeant oscarpiastri promise?

oscarpiastri we promise

georgerussell63 happy for you both!

frederikvestiofficial come back soon i think logans withering away

oscarpiastri he’ll be fine for a few more days🙄

logansargeant nu huh!! i cant last much longer☹️

user66 oh my god she looks gorgeous 🥹🥹

oscarpiastri she is

user72 YOUR OSC😭😭😭😭

user6 im never getting over them☹️

user91 THEYRE MARRIED☹️☹️😭😭

user10 remember when yn said they werent getting married yet because they still had so much growing to do,, look at them now☹️

user47 i feel like everyones being too calm, WE DIDNT EVEN KNOW THEY WERE ENGAGED?!?!!?!

user64 LIKE WHY ARE WE NOT MORE SHOCKED

user22 bcs they are written in the stars and we all knew this was going to happen!!! liked by youruser

user30 yn with all the little babes oh i cant do this🥹🥹 liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri

liked by youruser, lewishamilton and 1,392,027 others

17.01.2026

view comments

lewishamilton so happy for you mate, it was a gorgeous ceremony💜

logansargeant my favorite people in the whole world

oscarpiastri we love you

logansargeant 🥹🥹 (i love you guys too)

youruser my boy forever and ever and ever

oscarpiastri 🤍🤍

landonorris you guysss😕😕

youruser love you lan!!!!

youruser

liked by oscarpiastri, yourmum 11,483 others

a story told in many parts💐

comments on this post have been limited

pinned youruser to osc, my best friend, my love, my husband i will love you until the end of time. i will hold your hand through everything and more, until death do us part x

youruser added to their story

story song added heaven by niall horan text reads: my 🏠

seen by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 12,472 others

replies

user72 OH MY FUCKING GODDDDD

user19 I CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU TWO 😔😔😔😔

user63 ur literally perfect for eachother wtfwtfwtf

user90 I FEEL SICK THIS IS SO CUTE

user6 oscar is so sweet🥹🥹

youruser the sweetest!!!!

[occamstfs]

Roommates’ Trivial Tiff

Pretty standard nerdy asshole to himbo TF, who doesn't love some cosmic justice ! -Occam

“You just don’t understand what it’s like dude. You have no idea how hard all this stuff is for me.” Brock was struggling to get through to his roommate, someone he has time and time again been more than cordial with. In response Harvey scoffs and rolls his eyes refusing to engage and instead doubling down, “I’m sure it’s real difficult with all your paid tutors and your-” 

“You’re not even listening bro! You like to think you’re so elevated, like you have all the answers but you don’t even try to understand what anyone else is going through.” Harvey grimaces and briefly tosses about whether or not this is true but stubbornly neglects to internalize the criticism, “Uhh, I do too?” Brock bites his tongue to prevent just blowing up at his roommate and instead he tries a different angle, “Oh yeah? If that’s the case then, bet you know a lot about me huh? Since we’ve been roommates for a year now,” pausing as he narrows his eyes briefly at Harvey, “and ostensibly we’re friends right?”

Harvey struggles not to display his ever present irritation as he retorts, “Of course we are, uh, dude.” Brock does a better job hiding his intentions as he issues a challenge, “so if we were to say, quiz each other you think you’d come up on top lil dude?” With this gauntlet laid there is little recourse in Harvey’s mind but to accept it, there are few times he enjoys showing off so much as in a trivia contest. So what he might have a less than pristine record of respecting oafs like his roommate, he is certainly not to lose in any battle of the wits regardless of topic or stipulations there may be.

Brock puts out his hand and states the stakes, “You can of course bow out whenever, but uh, how about every question the winner takes something from the loser?” Harvey was resolved to win before hearing the terms and is now spitefully even more eager now as he eyes Brock’s side of the room looking for whatever his prize is sure to be.

Without any further clarification Brock promptly launches into the game, “I guess we’ll start real easy yeah? Only fair.” Harvey feels resentment start to brew as he feels he’s being talked down to as Brock goes on, “For starters then, What’s my major?” Harvey audibly gulps and feels his face blanche as he scrambles to find such an incredibly simple answer. This is such an obvious and pressing piece of information it would be impossible not to have it on deck.

Seeing the hesitation Brock laughs incredulously, “God dude are you kidding? How could you not know this, I-” He shifts his jaw waiting for the second shoe to drop as it is suddenly clear he is about to clean house, this asshole is going to learn respect by hook or by crook. Harvey’s eyes that were just hungrily looking through Brock’s possessions now retread their path, searching for the answer, his eyes linger on some sports bandages and protein powder and he kicks himself for forgetting. “Well duh dude, you’re doing a sports medicine or a trainer degree or whatever. Sorry that I forgot what the proper name is, it’s not exactly high in the list of things I need to know.”

Brock stares down at the clueless nerd before him and slowly shakes his head. “Not even close Harv. It’s-” Before he can finish though Harvey stands and shouts, “Don’t fucking call me that! I bet you don’t know mine either!” This leaves Brock aghast, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Of course I fucking do! You never shut up about it! I’m lucky if my headphones can block out you whining about homework while also constantly talking yourself up! It’s so, fucking, annoying!”

Hurt by this despite his typical apathy to others Harvey starts up once more, “Okay but you didn’t say-” “Computer Engineering.” Harvey blushes in shame, not over his disrespect but of getting the question wrong. Suddenly there’s a hum in the room and the shadows in the corner grow darker and Brock looks around, “Well I suppose that question really tees me up on what to take huh? I’ll take your major.”

“Wha?” caught on the other foot Harvey blinks and sees that his textbooks and assignments are suddenly piled on Brock’s desk. He feels anxiety rise in his chest unsure of what has happened though confident this must be a prank or something. “No no no that can’t be right? What is happening?” He then returns to look at his roommate once more, a scowl plastered on his face as Brock who, despite his impressive stature always aims to present as kind and gentle, cannot help but smirk as he feels he has gotten one over on this jerk.

He stretches, exposing his midriff and flexing  his arms behind his head, perhaps to try and allure or intimidate Harvey, he’s not sure, but Harvey is not going to just take this sitting down.Though at the present, he is too uncomfortable to even vocalize his discomfort as he stands there trying not to shake. Instead Brock begins once more, “Urgh kinda see what all that complaining was about now Harv, kinda got a lot on my plate now hah!”

Harvey stares daggers at his roommate, “Brock I don’t know what kind of nonsense is going through your dumbass ox brain. But it’s not funny, I’m sure you’re used to bullying little g-”

“Excuse me? I’m a bully!? I know you’re not saying that, I go out of my way to be kind, even to little chip on their shoulder assholes like you. I just,” Brock takes a deep breath and flexes his jaw before he continues. “It doesn’t matter actually. I trust you have a vested interest in trying again though right? Surely you want your major back?”

At the moment Harvey is caught between the idea that this is some kind of Christmas Carol-ass dream where he’s supposed to learn a lesson or once more that this is just a prank by Brock. Amenable as he’s always been, Harvey's convinced that behind this lunkhead is the vitriol of the typical jerk jock. In this impossible chance that this is reality though, he can’t just give up his major. He needs it to be an, uh? God what was, no what is his major anyway? 

Harvey looks around in shock as he suddenly can’t bring his current course schedule to his mind, but he was literally in class this morning right? He feels his coursework draining from his mind as fear and rage begin to rise in his frail body. Images of lecture halls and professors flash through his mind before they just as swiftly dissipate, somewhere within him deeper than memory he feels that he was studying something with numbers. Mathematics, physics, engineering, something he was good at. He is determined to get that back as he speaks up finally, “What is the next question.”

Brock smiles and toys around in his head, confident that he will end up on top. “How about you pick this one, give you a fighting chance.” Harvey purses his lips and struggles to produce a question that he knows the answer to that his roommate will not. Oh duh, he’ll just ask him a math question, easy! Certainly not the aim of the game but Harvey just needed to get his life back. “What’s a derivative.” 

“Kinda not in the spirit of the game dude but whatever. I took calc you know. It’s the rate of change in response to a variable. Now since you’re still being an ass how about I lob one back? How about you derivative 𝑓(𝑥)= 2cos⁡(𝑥)−6sec⁡(𝑥)+3?” Harvey is flat stunned, this is some entry level shit but he cannot for the life of him bring the information to mind. He’s just as sharp as he always has been but anything beyond rudimentary trig is continuing to trickle out of his mind. He meekly chuckles out, “uh easy, it’s f(x) equals, uh tan-”

There’s a blaring in his head as both men are aware of his immediate slip up. Energy once more rises in the air as Brock looks down almost pitifully at his roommate this time. “Now I am sorry for this Harvey but, oof that course load! Like you so relish to say, I am just not that bright hm?” Harvey shakes his head as he realizes the horror about to occur. Brock looks a little uncomfortable as he continues, “After failing to pull your little gotcha, I think I’ll just go ahead and have your intelligence.” 

Both men are instantly struck with headaches the likes of which neither could endure under normal circumstances. As soon as the pain arrives though it is converted into a deep profane pleasure. Pins and needles fill Brock’s mind as it becomes heavy. Ideas and understanding fill his mind as a euphoric warmth flows through him. Harvey had enjoyed learning without truly lifting a finger, he had flourished and gained knowledge through no effort on his part but simple absorption. Brock is overcome with the ease at which he will now flow through life. Equally is he overcome by the ecstasy within his body as it only continues to heighten.

Opposite him Harvey clutches at his head as now not only do his learned experiences at university vanish, but all of his capabilities as a student and academic. Even the pleading within his mind slows down as he feels his ability to swiftly process information breaks down. Harvey turns from the man across from him as Brock’s hands feel up and down his musculature in rapturous delight, just in time to see whatever books and tomes he had collected as trophies begin to fade into the aether along with his memories of reading them. He looks down at his hands in confusion and horror, even with his unaddled mind at full steam he could not make sense of what has befallen him. He knows this is not right.

He is unable to find any answers, though as he searches his brain he begins to find a pleasant warmth in the vacuum where there once was knowledge. While his mind has been emptied, the bulge in his crotch demands his attention, which shall likely be a constant issue now that his mind shall evermore be less than preoccupied. He feels his mouth start to fill with drool as he looks down at his cock as it almost feels larger than it should be. He almost laughs at the idea that from now on he may fully be thinking with his cock. He opens his mouth allowing drool to spill out which shocks him back to sense and he turns around to demand that Brock return this all to sense immediately.

Brock for his part is reclined in a chair just rubbing his cock over his shorts almost forgetting about what they had been doing not seconds earlier. He laughs as he sees the expression on Harvey’s face, “Woah dude sorry about that, got lost in my own mind for a second there! No wonder you had, or have rather, such an attitude problem. It all just came so easy to you didn’t it? I mean we could keep going if you want, what else do you have to lose yeah?” Harvey wipes the drool from his face and takes stock, he can still read, he is pretty confident he still passed high school, he remembers his life before whatever hell is currently happening as well as whatever this new reality is. He nods his head and pushes his erection down as it continues to rise upon seeing his roommate’s cocky repose. He answers, “let’s keep going. Your question right?”

Harvey can’t help but trace Brock’s traps as he shrugs, “If you insist lil bro. What’s my middle name?” He knows this one for sure, he would bring it out to tease his roommate as needed. Brock slams his arm down in excitement and shouts, “fucking Laurel!” then he recalls this is only half the battle, Brock must also get his wrong, “what’s mine?” Brock smirks once more and laughs as he stretches to scratch his back, his roommate hungrily staring, “you don’t have one dude”

The energy rushing between the two men is drastically different this time. Unlike the pleasurable prickles of knowledge or the soothing burn of loss there is a direct, deeper connection between the two. Brock’s grin grows wider as understands, “Oh I getcha, question’s a tie so we share the spoils Harv. Only fair that since you’ve the mind of a what, meathead? May as well have the body of one.”

Harvey watches as his roommate takes off his shirt, he feels a warmth in his chest as he stares directly at Brock’s pecs. His breath catches as he watches his roommate flex them and he feels a nervous energy begin to surge within his own. He’s never had pecs before but he feels his chest pushing, growing, into his shirt. He sees his nipples harden and grow too large to ever hide as his chest expands. His swallows to stop from drooling once more as he sees Brock pose and flex his massive biceps, forcing a burning delight down the whole of Harvey’s arms. He matches the pose of the powerful man he has spoken nothing but ill of and flexes, sweat immediately staining through his shirt as the energy and strain heats his body beyond reason.

At the same time both men drop into a crunch, there is a loud tear as the pants of both men tear as they reach the lowest point in the crunch as Harvey’s ass bursts larger and his thighs swell with strength well enough to carry his increasingly top heavy torso. Not only is Harvey to gain the muscle of a tight jock, but the masculinity expected. The cock he has been til now proud enough of pulses with his heartbeat, with each pump it gorges larger, veins thick as the ones surging down his biceps force his cock thicker and further down his strained shorts. He tears at his pants to free his bulge as his balls bloat to the size of eggs, they pull tight ass they’re exposed to the air and all the soreness, strain, and pain of his still growing body becomes agonizing delight.

Harvey’s eyes water as he struggles to even stay cogent with the pleasure and power coursing through him. He smells his new musk breaking through his senses. Through the burning bedlam across his body he feels a soothing burn as hair begins to sprout and thicken where every man should make clear his masculinity. His pubes thicken and curl beyond his waistline and his pits grow wild and begin to spread to make it clear they, nor his musk, can ever be contained.

He lies, sits, writhes, flexes, exists in nothing but pleasure for some time, no longer concerned for his lost intelligence, beyond the care of his education. His hands, larger and painted with still thickening hair, press tight against his body as he feels the new contours of his body. Each new valley and mountain is a testament to the ecstasy he shall now prioritize above all. Until his roommate’s voice breaks through the haze, “Fuck bro you’re really feeling yourself huh?” Harvey’s eyes open to see Brock’s arrogant sneer has only grown worse as he has contendly watch Harvey lavish his new corpus.

Harvey meets it with a scowl and Brock tilts his head, “Want to do one last question then, bro?” His smile grows tight as he tries not to laugh as the appellation of bro has become the paramount definition of this once genius. Harvey just nods his head, still understandably disoriented as he lies in a pool of his own sweat and pre that remains dripping directly onto the floor. Brock motions for him to ask whatever the presumably final question is but is met with a grunt and a wave of the hand. Brock grimaces slightly, “if you insist bud,” he grimaces slightly as he looks down at the man. Asshole he may have be, may still be even, surely there’s something Brock could do to fix even that. He leans to whisper the question in Harvey’s ear, “what color are my eyes.” 

Between grunts, Harvey strains to look at his roommate only to find them obviously closed. His body contorts with pain and pleasure as he feels the throes of defeat and one final lose begin to seize him. He groans out through clenched teeth as his jaw widens and his brows thicken as changes already begin to work upon his mind, “don’t… know…” Brock nods and sits next to his roommate laying Harvey’s head on his lap. At the point it would be a kindness for the man to forget his life before, and that is exactly what he is to do. 

Brock removes the memories and identity of the sour nerd that made life perpetually unpleasant not only for him, but anyone unlucky enough to grace his presence. His breathing speeds up as his body heat rises beyond imagination, sweat turning to steam in the cold dorm room as he shakes his head and clenches his fists. He writhes only briefly, each flex of his body a final protestation of Harvey as Brock erases even his name from his head. 

After a minute of this his body goes still before he opens his eyes blearily and groans. Still lying in Brock’s lap he stretches his arms, turning to smell his impossibly rank pits before turning it into a flex as he must do anytime he raises them. Brock watches this with trepidation, unsure of who exactly his roommate is to be now before suddenly a name surges into his mind, Bull. Perfect fodder for the jerk he once was and an apt name for the behemoth lying on his lap. Testing the waters Brock pats his chest to wake him up, “Morning Bull.”

He yawns and scratches at the same stubbled face he has always known and he sits up, “urgh got a massive headache bro, must have gone pretty hard to have a hangover this bad huhuh! Wanna go grab brekkie and hit up the gym?” Brock stifles a smirk and helps his roommate up to standing, slightly surprised to see him standing taller than himself before responding, “You got it big guy, how about you get some clothes on first though right?” Bull guffaws, looking down at his hairy sweat-drenched body as he throws an arm around his roommate, cock bobbing around in the open air, still chubbed up. “What would I do without you bro huhuh!” 

Brock looks to see all of Bull’s tops have changed to stringers and tanks. Where Harvey had nothing but pants Bull has piles of unwashed athletic shorts, one of which he promptly throws on, going commando. Seeing Brock watch him, Bull grabs at his crotch and juts at the door, “Come on bro! Faster we get a pump in faster we can get back here and have some fun dude.” 

With that Bull again throws his arm around Brock, once more smelling his b.o. as he almost deliberately spreads it on his roommate’s neck, like an animal marking its territory. The two then off to start their day, in Bull’s mind as they always have. Brock feels his crotch grow weightier as the amble down the hall, unsure if he’s made a horrible mistake in all this. Who is he to say what is too far in acts of cosmic retribution. Brock is certain at the end of the day he and Bull are at least to have quite a bit of fun.

[charliemwrites]

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

Next

Masterlist

[junrenjun]

8:13 PM

lee jeno x reader

“These are so cute,” you mutter, lifting another one of the pictures off the table. The wedding is finally settling down a bit, a few people out on the dance floor while others talk amongst themselves at the tables. The rest of your tablemates have scattered around the room, leaving only you and Jeno. 

Your boyfriend has his arm wrapped around the back of your chair, gazing down at the picture in your hands. “Mhm,” he hums, “should save that to a Pinterest board for our wedding.” 

He says it so casually you almost choke on air. “Our wedding? You want to marry me?” you question. Now, you and Jeno have been dating for quite some time now. But not enough to truly, seriously talk about marriage. Nothing more than a few casual conversations about what the future could hold. Yet he says those words like you’re already engaged. 

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “You do want to get married, right?” He seems a little tentative now. Like he’s worried that he scared you off.

You’re quick to ease the tension. “Of course I want to get married. I just didn’t think you’d bring it up so nonchalantly like that.” 

He smiles back at you with that crinkle in his eyes you love so much. Removing his hand from the back of your chair, he reaches out to grab the picture from you. He looks down at it with admiration. “I can already think of the pictures we could use,” he admits. “Like that one of you sleeping in the laundry basket. That one is cute.”

You giggle at his statement. “Okay,” you concede. “But only if we get to include the one where you are blowing bubbles with that weird pinwheel hat on.” 

He sets the picture down, ruffling your hair a bit. “I think someone has had one too many of these,” he teases, pushing your champagne glass further away from you. You roll your eyes at him. 

Jeno goes to say something once again, but is interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see your little cousin, her eyes pointed bashfully toward the floor and rocking on her heels. “Hello Aria,” he says, provoking her to actually look at him. “Whatcha need?”

She looks at you hesitantly before looking back toward your boyfriend. “Can you…dance with me, Jeno?” she whispers. The question has you realizing that the song has now switched to something slower, a few couples adorning the dance floor. How cute, you think to yourself. 

“Of course,” he responds, grinning down at the girl. Before she knows it, Jeno is scooping her up, carrying her to the dance floor. You can hear her giggles fade as they reach the other side of the room. 

Taking a breath, you look back toward the table, grabbing your champagne glass and another picture. Your moment of peace doesn’t last long though, because someone plops down in the seat next to you less than a minute later. When you look up, you spot your grandmother. “It’s a shame you didn’t participate in the bouquet toss. I was hoping you two would be next,” she taunts, looking pointedly at you. 

You set the items down, opting to run your hands over your face in embarrassment. “Ah, grandma!” you complain. “You know we don’t believe in superstitious stuff like that. We’ll get there in our own time.” 

She nods in understanding, but still smirks. Leaning closer to you, she begins to whisper. “You two would make me some beautiful grandbabies.” 

Now you’re really blushing. Thoughts of having a mini Jeno running around your grandmother’s house flash through your mind. You try your best to push them away. “Seriously, amma?” you exclaim, though there’s no malice in your voice. 

She points across the room. You follow her movements to find Jeno with a bright smile on his face, Aria twirling around in his arms. He reaches down to brush a strand of hair out of her face. You can’t help but gaze longingly at the scene, wishing that it was a daughter of your own. Your grandmother calls your name once more and you turn back to look at her. “If the next wedding I attend isn’t yours, that boy is getting a serious talk from me,” she says smugly. Without another word, she scoots back in her chair, walking back toward her own table. 

You steal a glance at the bride and groom’s table. They’re lightly making conversation, her head resting against his shoulder. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder with his hand hanging down to brush comforting strokes down her arm. Maybe that could be you and Jeno sometime soon.

Startled out of your thoughts once again, you see your boyfriend plop down next to you. Your cousin is nowhere to be found, likely back with her parents once again. “What were you and your grandma talking about?” he asks. 

“Just about how she thinks you and I should be the next ones to be married. Said that we would make beautiful grandbabies.” you say, repeating her words with your own smirk.

It’s Jeno’s turn to blush, looking down at the floor. “We would,” he admits with a shy smile.

[razorblade180]

Union

In the midst of going over blueprints for their future home, Jaune’s concentration gets interrupted by flowing petals. He cracks a smile before turning around to see Ruby completely obscured by her cloak.

Jaune:Have you come for my soul?

Ruby:Might as well. Already have your heart.

Jaune:Heh, then I kindly ask for you wait. Your payment will be paid in full down the aisle.

Ruby:How stingy. I’ve already given you both of mine; and a little extra~

Jaune:*red* How was work, you gremlin?

Ruby:Patrol duty was fine. Starting to think crooks know my schedule.

Jaune:Or you threw most in jail.

Ruby:Organized crime calls for chaotic heroism. Anywho, house plans going well?

Jaune:More or less. If all goes well then we’ll be living outside Vacou before our anniversary.

Ruby:Always thinking ahead. Meanwhile I’m struggling with awesome vows.

Jaune:You brought a world together. I’m sure you’ll think of something.

Ruby:Feelings are a little harder than a battle cry or call to arms. Speaking of feelings, I have a little something for you.

Jaune:*looks at cloak* Is that so~

Ruby:*blushes* It’s not what you think! Not this time. This gift is way better!

Jaune:I don’t know Rubes. Last gift that started like this was pretty amazing. *smiles*

Ruby:Just close your eyes and hold your hands out!

The knight chuckles as he does what he’s told. Immediately something weighted and cool to the touch lands in hands. Jaune opens his eyes and stars at a white scabbard. Somehow, this took him by surprise. It had his symbol in the middle and was surrounded by red thorns.

The grip of the hilt was this dark blue with a spiral of fierce red that went up and outlined the golden hand guard that was modeled in the shape of his symbol. He pulled out the gift from the scabbard to reveal cold, shining white steel that had its double edge and tip run red like hilt. If Jaune was being honest, he’s never seen a sword look more like a work of fantasy. Ruby stood right in front of him and put her left hand in the hilt, showing that his symbol had subtle thorn and rose engravings that matched her gold and red on her engagement ring.

The accomplished and proud Huntress then took a step back and started twiddling her thumbs while swaying, finding it hard to meet Jaune’s gaze; so she pulled her hood over her head. At this point it probably matched her face.

Ruby Rose:So uh yeah, that’s a Ruby Rose Original.

Jaune:You made this!?

Ruby:*nods* I’ll be honest. I spent so long shopping for wedding bands with Weiss helping. I’m still definitely getting one! But none of them really… felt like they were saying how I feel. There’s not a moment I want you feel like you’re fighting alone; even when we’re far apart. With this, I’m always by your side ready to help. The scabbard is a shield too but if I’m being honest I’m still a rookie when it comes to that kind of smithing. Consider this my own form of engagement to you.

Jaune:Ruby this is…I don’t even know what to say.

Ruby:*trembly* I uh..it’s fine if you treat this as a ceremonial blade too. After all…there’s history in Crocea Mors and I don’t want to step on that or make you feel like you have to stop wielding it because of m-

Two hands gentle hands pull back her hood and reveal teary, anxious eyes. Honestly, Ruby felt so ridiculous right now. All this effort into a heart felt token of affection and yet anxiety gripped her mind on how he’d take the jester. His thumbs run across her cheeks to catch a few stray tears.

Jaune:Hey, talk to me. What’s with the tears? This is an amazing.

Ruby:I just…Crocea Mors is its own vow. It has been for years and I know I shouldn’t be feeling guilty or nervous but I do. Gods, it’s so dumb hehe. Pyrrha would totally give me an earful for being so-

Jaune:Thoughtful? *smiles*

Ruby:..Heh, yeah. Yeah she would.

Jaune:Well, I don’t know if your beautiful brain and smithing skills have noticed, but you’ve really gotten good at knowing my style.

He briefly lets go of her and grabs his sword along with the new gift. Jaune pulls out both and puts them against one another. Yeah the hilt is different but it’s wide enough to work. Without hesitation, Jaune took the scabbard of Crocea Mors and slid it on the new sword easily; right down to the satisfying click in place that took Ruby by surprise.

Jaune:If you really feel guilty, then I can do this! Not gonna lie, I’d feel like shit getting that scabbard dirty in the future. It’s my first Ruby Rose original! Also gives you time to hyper fixate on shield crafting. As for the blade, I know this bad boy will keep me safe and sou-

Once again, petals flowed. Each one danced around him while the rose itself pressed her lips against his with gratitude and overflowing joy that dispelled fears like magic.

Ruby:Jaune Arc, you truly are my fairytale ending. My happily ever after.

Jaune:Hehe, And you said your vows would be hard? C’mere.

He pulled his loving fiancée into a deeper kiss before matching her smile. She was right. This present was the best.

Jaune:Does this engagement sword have a name?

Ruby:The deepest part of my soul wants to call it Bloody Moon but that doesn’t inspire luck as wedding gift.

Jaune:I kinda like what you said a few moments ago.

Ruby:Oh, so Ever After?

Jaune: Tale’s End

Ruby:That’s so- damn I’m marrying the right person. That’s such I good name! When our house is done I think my first order of business is mounting the scabbard with Crocea Mors somewhere nice and proud. Gonna need your height though.

Jaune:Naturally. And who knows. Maybe it’ll protect the both of us in a new way someday?

xxxxxxx

Several years later

Jaune:Alright squirt, ready for your first real sword sparring!?

A foolish question for a young girl waiting to dives out the front door and slide across a sand dune into a wide battle stance, her grin in full bloom with Crocea Mor ready to aid her first step towards greatness.

Carmine:Born ready!

Ruby:Do your best! Show him who’s boss!

Carmine:Ha! With this by my side, I might as well be invincible.

[padfootagain]

Love in verses (XXVI)

Chapter 26: ‘Well, how else are you to live except by denial’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! This is one of my favourites, just… some adorable stuff!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4227

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Earl

In Sitka, because they are fond of them, People have named the seals. Every seal is named Earl because they are killed one after another by the orca, the killer whale; seal bodies tossed left and right into the air. “At least he didn’t get Earl,” someone says. And sure enough, after a time, that same friendly, bewhiskered face bobs to the surface. It’s Earl again. Well, how else are you to live except by denial, by some palatable fiction, some little song to sing while the inevitable, the black and white blindsiding fact, comes hurtling toward you out of the deep?

Louis Jenkins

The pain in your abdomen was a sensation you were used to, sadly. You recognized the pattern in the intensity, you knew it perfectly after years of suffering once a month. This month seemed to be particularly nasty though, and there was little doubt on to why. Your stress was so high these days, between your new job, your research, your career, and Frank’s bloody wedding… You were drowning, to be fair. Drowning in an ocean of emotions. You bent in front of your sink, waiting for the wave of pain to fade again, closing tightly your eyes, while the microwave beeped with the heating pad now reaching a burning temperature. You placed it on your stomach, not caring about your skin, only about the pain under it.

Damn… that was a bad month…

You stood straighter again, letting out a long and careful exhale, relaxing once more. Your head was spinning a little, but you didn’t dare to eat too much for now, your nausea was too bad and you didn’t want to end up throwing up. You settled for a bit of rice and an apple for lunch.

You were supposed to see Andrew this afternoon, but there was no way you could plan on fucking up Frank’s appointment at the tailor when it was hard to stand… At least, it was the weekend, you didn’t have to deal with work, and could spend your day being a burrito on your couch while watching TV and eating junk food.

You were supposed to shop for groceries in the morning, but you didn’t have the strength for that either, so you decided that you would get some food delivered for the rest of the weekend and would tackle the issue of not dying of starvation on Monday.

You sat down on your couch, at long last, heaving a sigh of relief. You held the heating pad against your stomach, covered yourself with a blanket and grabbed your phone while you turned on the TV.

You pressed on Andrew’s name on whatsapp while the tu-dum noise of Netflix echoed in your living room.

You heaved a sigh…

… you had forgotten tea… never mind, you were too much in pain and too tired to be bothered making some tea now that you were seated.

Back to your phone, you typed your message quickly.

Hi Andy! Sorry, but I’m not feeling well today, gonna have to cancel for this afternoon. We’ll talk about our plans next week. Hope you have a nice weekend, see you on Monday! Xx

You pressed ‘send’ and started browsing in the list of movies available on your TV screen.

Your phone lit up with Andrew’s name.

Sorry to hear that! Are you alright? Do you want me to drop you something?

You were too tired not to acknowledge the warmth that spread in your chest as you read his text.

Nothing to worry about, don’t worry.

His answer was quick to arrive.

Are you sure? You want me to drive you to a doctor or something?

You chuckled at his obvious worry. He really was too sweet…

No, I’m okay. Period being bitches, that’s all. I can handle it.

He answered with a thumbs up right under your text, right when you found Pride and Prejudice was on Netflix…

Well, it looked like your afternoon was all set.

You cursed under your breath. You didn’t have any snacks. Not even chocolate… and your kitchen was so fucking far… a whole ten steps away…

Damn you and your stupid brain.

You were surprised when you received another text from Andy.

So, what’s planned for today? Did you get your groceries this morning?

You snorted at the mere thought.

Nah. Too much in pain. Too tired to go to the kitchen and make myself tea, so imagine going outside with people?! No, thanks.

I’m gonna spend my afternoon with Mr. Darcy instead.

You waited for his answer, ignoring your TV now.

The Keira Kinghtley movie?

You sent him a thumbs up.

Will you hate me if I admit that I’ve never watched that film?

You almost dropped your phone.

YOU’VE NEVER SEEN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE?!

OH THAT’S IT! DISHONOUR! DISHONOUR ON YOUR WHOLE FAMILY!

He sent a laughing emoji.

You’ve forgotten the dishonour on me and my cow too…

You couldn’t refrain a laugh, even though it hurt your stomach.

You don’t have a cow. But I’ll take it out on Elwood.

You could picture the grin on his face at the joke.

HOW DARE YOU! HE’S SUCH A GOOD BOY!

Elwood, my son, don’t listen to the nasty lady…

You laughed again, but quickly stopped this time, the pain getting too strong.

You didn’t think as you wrote your next text.

You could drop by and watch it with me.

You reread the text and realised your mistake; your eyes grew round. You were in your old pyjamas, you hadn’t showered and had no intention to do so, your hair was a mess, you hadn’t washed your dishes…

You wanted to delete the text, but the blue symbols under it let you know that he had already read it.

Damn it!

I mean… I’m in pain, grumpy and look like trash…

So… maybe not the most pleasant way to spend your afternoon.

Feel free to refuse.

You waited for his answer, watched the dancing dots, until a text was received.

I’d love to, actually.

Besides, I am not five, I know about menstrual cycles, thank you very much…

You bit on your lips as you hesitated.

You’ve never seen me like that.

 A pause. You guessed that he had rephrased his text several times.

Would that make you feel uncomfortable?

You thought about it for a second. Frank didn’t really pay attention to that part of you. It was cliché, but you knew he was making a conscious effort to acknowledge your period and how much of a burden they were to you. You saw it as him making an effort at the time. Now, you were worried Andrew would be the same, with typical disappointing male behaviour…

And yet, you didn’t care. You couldn’t find a way to care. You couldn’t imagine Andrew, out of all people, disappointing you on that. Perhaps it was naïve, you weren’t sure. Your answer was earnest anyway.

No

His answer came in a matter of seconds.

Give me forty minutes to come over then.

You smiled.

An hour then.

You laughed again at his answer.

Gobshite…

You didn’t select the movie for now and merely watched some crappy TV instead, with whatever was on.

You tried not to pay too much thought on how excited you were at the idea of Andy coming soon…

Andrew ended up ringing at your door an hour and fifteen minutes later, proving you right about his time blindness, and the thought made you smile. You had washed your dishes waiting for him, using a fifteen-minutes break from the pain to stretch your legs and attempt to look like a human being. The pain was soon back with full strength though, and you gave up on the idea to change into a proper outfit. You remained in your comfortable pyjamas, tied your hair up to hide the mess it was, and went back to suffering on the couch, the heating pad growing colder and less effective, but you were too tired to get up again.

You groaned as Andrew rang at your door, forcing yourself to stand. You couldn’t hold yourself completely straight, not with the pain in your stomach being now combined with a sharp stinging sensation in your lower back. You opened the door still, and welcomed Andrew with a genuine smile.

He was wearing his hair in a bun today, his glasses perched on his nose, and a warm smile on his lips as his gaze rested upon you. He looked gorgeous in a simple brown jacket, dark jeans and a black turtleneck. You couldn’t refrain the way your heart fluttered at the sight, nor the butterflies that were added to your painful stomach.

“Hey! God, you do look like shite,” he exclaimed, but there was worry in his frown despite the obvious teasing in his voice.

“Thanks for the compliment,” you stuck your tongue out, and he couldn’t refrain a chuckle.

He walked inside, took off his shoes and jacket, and it’s only when he set the bags on the floor to do so that you noticed them.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Groceries.”

You looked up at him with a puzzled look.

“Jeez… if you were busy this afternoon, you should have declined!”

He laughed, and you were more puzzled than ever.

“These are for you,” he clarified, picking up the bags again.

You blinked up at him.

“For… me?”

“Yeah… you said you didn’t get any groceries this morning. Can’t let you starve! Come on, get a move on, these need to go in the fridge.”

You let him pass, followed him in your kitchen. He started to empty the two paper bags on your kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get you much, just enough to last for a couple of days. Pass the weekend. Nothing that needs fancy cooking either, don’t worry. Mostly pasta, rice, and a few vegetables and fruits. I also got some take out for tonight, so you don’t have to bother with cooking today. Chinese, hope you’re in the mood for that. And then, the obvious ice cream, crisps and chocolate combo. Oh, and I bought you this tea! My mom recommended it once for menstrual cramps to one of my cousins, and it’s apparently pretty nice, so… thought you could use that too.”

He looked up at you then, after his little babbling. He frowned at your expression though, and you noticed the shift in his demeanour: the way he shrank, bending over himself instead of standing straight, with his full height. Trying to look smaller than he was, to occupy as little space as possible. He rubbed nervously at his collarbone.

“I… I thought it would make things easier for you. I… I’m sorry if I’m overstepping… if you… sorry. Sorry…”

But he was interrupted by your arms around him; you almost tackled him with the strength, and you heard the loud huff he let out at the impact. It took him a couple of seconds to close his arms around you too, but then it felt like he was unwilling to ever let go.

“Thank you so much,” you mumbled into his chest. “That’s… so fucking sweet, Andy.”

“That’s nothing,” he tried to brush your thankfulness away, but you could hear in his voice that he was smiling again, feel that his body was relaxing once more. “I didn’t mean to overstep… I just… I just thought it would make it easier for you.”

You spotted your favourite chocolate on the table, along with some ice-cream.

“These are my favourite,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to do that…”

“It’s nothing.”

You didn’t say it. You didn’t say that Frank had never done that for you. And Andrew did? When he wasn’t your boyfriend? When he didn’t even have feelings for you?

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, rubbing your back, and the caress was so soothing you were ready to cry. “Painkillers or something? I can go to the pharmacy…”

“I’ve got that covered, don’t worry. Thank you.”

“Right…”

Another cramp came breaking your embrace, you let out a groan as you held your painful stomach. You tried not to think of how your heart stumbled and missed a few beats when Andrew brushed a messy strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You really don’t look well. You should sit down.”

“I need to reheat my heating pad…”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do that, love. Sit down, okay?”

‘Love’… he had called you ‘love’… You wanted to cry…

Why were you so affected by it? It was Andy. It was Andy, not Frank, and you wanted Frank, you wanted Frank, you wanted…

He walked into the living room about 10 minutes later, carrying your heating pad under his arm, ice cream and some chocolate. He had to go back to the kitchen to fetch your two cups of tea.

“Alright… need anything else?”

You shook your head, and he settled on the sofa next to you. Readjusted the blanket so it would cover your feet. You didn’t recognise the flavour of the tea, you reckoned he had made a cup of the one his mother had recommended.

You refused to name the feeling that was spreading across your entire body, the unbearable fondness aimed at Andrew that came with it.

I want Frank, I want Frank, I want Frank…

“Alright, let’s watch Mr. Darcy getting rejected…” he grinned at you, as if he was at his happiest, as if he couldn’t have thought of a better way to spend his afternoon than to watch Pride and Prejudice with you while nursing you back to health because you were on your period…

You scoffed, trying to hide the tears in your eyes by looking for the movie on Netflix again.

“He doesn’t just get rejected. They do get together at the end, you know?”

“Thanks for spoiling it all to me…”

“Wait… you told me you read the book…”

He laughed.

“I did! I was joking, like… It was a joke. I did read it. I simply haven’t watched any adaptation.”

“Wow… Oh… so you haven’t seen the one with Colin Firth either?! The BBC series?”

“Nope…” he answered, popping the ‘p’ before taking a sip of his tea.

Two teabags. As always. The detail made you smile.

“Okay, that is going to be our next activity together.”

He laughed, but didn’t contradict you, on the contrary.

“Well, I guess my next Sunday is all booked…”

“Indeed, it is!” you grinned, but your tone was too soft not to show how emotional the thought of spending another afternoon like this with Andrew made you feel.

He didn’t comment on that, though, and you were grateful for it.

He reached for your coffee table, where he had put the two sets of ice-cream and spoons, and handed you one.

Your heating pad was back on your stomach, warm and effectively soothing your cramps. You seized the opportunity to eat a large spoonful of chocolate ice cream.

You moaned at the taste.

“Andy… this is perfect, I hope you’re aware of how amazing you are.”

He chuckled, but there was something a little sad in his eyes when he looked down at his food, a tinge of melancholy. You didn’t know why.

“Bribing you with chocolate is the way to your heart, then,” he joked, clearly stirring the conversation away from himself, while pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes, starting the film.

You exchanged another smile, while the movie started. You didn’t realise your own movements as you scooted closer to him on the couch, and neither did he notice how he leaned towards you, until your arms were softly touching.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love… I love… I love you…”

You heaved a sigh after whispering the words in sync with Mr. Darcy, clutching at your heart, burying your face further in Andrew’s shoulder.

You weren’t sure when you had ended up in Andrew’s arms, but you were now. He had wrapped an arm around your shoulders at one point, noticing how livid you had become because of the pain, how you had tried to withhold your wince but failed. And it was meant as a temporary anchor, a soothing gesture that should have lasted just a few minutes, until the pain subsided again. But when you relaxed once more, he didn’t pull away, and instead of freeing yourself from his hold, you leaned closer, sank deeper into his embrace. And now, he was resting his long fingers on your waist, while you leaned into his chest.

Which was… better not think about boundaries and friendship and professional behaviour and all those limits you were breaking.

Meanwhile, Andrew was brushing a tear away, but you spotted it before he could pretend it hadn’t happened.

“I know… I know…” you patted his chest, trying not to notice that you were touching his chest. “I cry every time too.”

“For proof,” he chuckled, brushing your tear away with his thumb, making your heart stutter and expand to the point that you wondered how it hadn’t broken any of your ribs yet.

“It’s Jane Austen’s superpower, Andy… we can do nothing against it,” you concluded before nuzzling into his chest again.

“I’ll have to agree,” he nodded.

You noticed how his breathing was a little irregular for a moment, when you shifted to be a little more comfortable in his arms, but he didn’t push you away, didn’t move at all, in fact. Instead, he waited for you to settle again, readjusted the blanket on both of you, and stared at the end of the movie. His cheeks were turning a bright shade of red. You hated the thought that crossed your mind…

There were but a couple of minutes left, it was the end: Mr. Darcy had walked across the moor already, he had declared his love and Elizabeth had accepted his hand in marriage. They were waiting for Elizabeth’s father. You were staring at Andrew, the feeling of your gaze on him made him look down as well, catching your eyes with his. His hazel eyes, they looked so green now, in the rather bright light of the late afternoon, and the tears he had dried just before had enhanced that colour too. Green… like leaves bathed in sunlight during the summer… you loved that shade…

You didn’t even notice when the screen went dark, when the credits started rolling. You were thinking of Andrew, of how sweet he had been all afternoon, of how handsome he looked now, how much turtlenecks suited him, how cute he looked with his glasses…

He blinked a couple of times, as if he were coming back from a reverie, and looked at the TV again. You looked at his profile, found yourself longing to run your fingers through his short beard, noticed the red tainting the brown of his hair.

“Well, that was an amazing film,” he easily admitted, bringing you back to earth.

And indeed, the story was over. Mr. Bennett had accepted their union. Elizabeth would marry Mr. Darcy. All ended well. Black screen and a list of names, printed in white pixels…

You pushed yourself out of Andrew’s arms.

Back to reality now… and in the real world, you wanted Frank. You wanted Frank. You wanted Frank…

You looked away in a hurry, and trembled at the loss of contact, when Andrew finally moved his hand away from your waist.

You kept on talking about the film for a while, but eventually, Andrew checked the time.

“I should get going, let you get something to eat. And I mean… something proper. Not snacks,” he teased, standing up and taking the remnants of your various snacks with him to the kitchen.

And you had to tell yourself that mantra again. Because your heart was aching at the thought of Andrew leaving. Which was ridiculous because you would see him in two days. Which was ridiculous because he was only a friend. A colleague, even. And it was ridiculous because you didn’t want him, you wanted Frank. You loved Frank. You wanted the life you had with him back. You… you wanted Frank. You wanted Frank… You… You wanted…

“Andy?”

He reappeared, coming from the kitchen, and tilted his head a little as a silent invitation for you to speak again.

“Do… do you want to stay for dinner?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, long enough for you to start spiralling and babbling…

“Unless you need to take care of Elwood…”

“No, my parents took him to the seaside today, they’re keeping him for the night. He’s living his best life, trust me. I bet my dad is giving him all the treats he wants.”

“Or like… I mean… you’ve already spent your afternoon with me, even if I’m sick and not the best company today, and… yeah, I totally get it if you don’t want to stay, like… that’s…”

“Y/N.”

“Hmmm?”

“I’d love to stay.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I’m too much to take care of…

You merely shrugged in response, making him chuckle, clearly unaware of your thoughts.

“Well, if you’re not bored of me yet, I’d love to stay for dinner.”

You grinned.

“Grand…” you nodded, and Andrew disappeared in the kitchen again to prepare dinner.

Still, you noticed how he was smiling when he turned around, how he was blushing, too…

You ended up watching tv again after dinner. The pain wasn’t as vivid as it had been during the rest of the day, and so you were more comfortable during that part of the evening. So much so that you started dozing off, as you were watching for the nth time how Luke and Han were trying to save Leia.

You had stumbled upon a rerun of the old Star Wars movies, and settled on the nostalgic feeling of these stories to end the day. Andrew was supposed to go home after the end of the movie, once the Death Star was gone and Leia was placing medals on the heroes’ chest.

Andrew had made you laugh with his best impression of Chewbacca, and you had made him choke on his glass of water with one of your jokes and snarky remarks. It was lovely, but you were so tired you neared exhaustion by now. So, it was quite logical that you started dozing off after a while, losing tracks of the story when Han and Luke were dressed as stormtroopers.

You hadn’t noticed that your head had fallen on Andrew’s shoulder as you were falling asleep. You didn’t notice how he stopped paying attention to the movie when you did. How his heart started pounding at how adorable you looked like this. He waited for a few minutes, to see if you would stir and wake up again, but you didn’t. He stared at you for a moment longer, but you weren’t aware of it. You weren’t aware either of the longing in his gaze, of the smile on his lips as he watched how peaceful you looked in your sleep.

You blinked your eyes open again only when you felt something slipping under your knees and behind your back, felt the warmth upon which your head rested move.

“Andy?” you called in your drowsy state, still unable to understand what was happening, where you were…

“I’m here, love.”

That pet name again… were you dreaming it?

You reached up, held onto a soft fabric, and somehow, despite the fact that you had closed your eyes once more, you knew it was Andrew’s turtleneck.

“You’re falling asleep, you need to go to bed,” he said softly, his voice unbearably low and deep, it made your heart skip a few beats and warmth spread across your entire frame.

And it sounded so reassuring… so safe… He was so reassuring…

You nuzzled into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. His cologne, his softener, him…

“Can I help you reach your bed? Can I do that? Is that okay?” he asked in the same caring voice, and you nodded. But then again, you would have accepted anything, for as long as you could remain in his warmth, as long as his voice came back…

You realised then that he was slipping his arms under you, it took a moment longer for your brain to register he meant to carry you.

“I can walk,” you whispered, opening your eyes again and forcing yourself to look at him.

You were too stunned when he bent down to kiss your hair to argue when he told you there was no need, that he got you, that you could close your eyes again. You obeyed, having no strength left to argue, and you wrapped your arms around his neck when he stood up and lifted you off the couch.

He readjusted your position, and then you were vaguely aware of moving, while he walked through your apartment. You nuzzled closer, your forehead brushing his jaw and your entire body trembled as you felt his beard against your skin.

Too soon, he was gently putting you down on your comfortable mattress, tucking you in, under your warm blanket.

You blinked your eyes open before he could leave, found his hazel eyes looking down at you. He seemed so tall like this, standing above your bed.

“Thank you, Andy. For everything.”

He smiled, gesture gentle and full of fondness.

“Sleep well, Y/N. Goodnight.”

He tucked a strand of your hair away from your face, and the brush of his fingers across your cheek made you close your eyes for good.

Your last thoughts were of him, while you heard him move away from the bed, recognized the creaking of the tiles by the door of your bedroom.

God, you wanted him so much…

[theladycarpathia]

Happiness, love, cohabitation (Clipboards and couches notwithstanding)

a.k.a. Tommy's still smitten by Clipboard Buck. (sequel to To Do List: Me (Buck's Tasklist)

“I hope you’re ready for this,” Eddie says under his breath, just as the moving truck pulls in.

“Ready for what?” Tommy asks, shielding his eyes against the sun. “Happiness? Love? Cohabitation?”

Eddie just gives him a look. Perhaps there’s a reason that he’s the only person from the 118 that volunteered to help today. Hen and Howie were conveniently otherwise engaged. Cowards.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he says darkly, nodding at the gleam of Buck’s truck down the road. It sounds ridiculous but Tommy’s stomach still dips a little at the mere suggestion of Buck.

“Evan’s moving in today,” Tommy says, choosing to ignore every single thinly veiled, ominous word out of Eddie’s mouth. “I swear to you, I have no idea.”

“Yes, you do,” Eddie says, as Buck pulls in, the flatbed still somehow piled high despite the large truck filled with Buck’s belongings. It hadn’t made a lot of sense for Tommy to move into Buck’s loft so it had been an easy decision. Tommy lives close enough to the 118 that it’s not that much more of a commute for Buck. “But you’re being a dick about it.”

“I told you,” Tommy says easily, as Buck climbs out, balancing a box on his knee as he shuts the door. “I’m happy.” Eddie just shakes his head.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” he promises, as Buck bounds over.

“Hi,” Tommy says and Buck beams back, beautiful and soft.

“Hi,” Buck returns, almost looking uncertain. Tommy’s had to face a few wobbly moments in the past few weeks. But he gathers that the past few times Buck’s moved in with someone it hasn’t gone very well.

“It’s not until Eddie pointedly clears his throat that Tommy realizes they’re just standing in the drive, with the removal men waiting patiently.

“Sorry we were a bit late,” Buck apologizes, looking as flustered as Tommy feels. They’re still in the ‘honeymoon stage’ as Hen likes to quip. Which is bull, because Tommy knows that when it’s the right person that it never just goes away. Hen and Karen for starters, are not exempt. “There was some trouble getting the furniture down the stairwell. I don’t remember it being so difficult to move in…”

“That’s because it was flat packed, Buck,” Eddie says and rolls his shoulders. “Where do we start?”

And then - alright, so Tommy had been expecting it, he had - Buck reaches into the cardboard box and pulls out a clipboard.

The look that Eddie gives him is very nearly worth it.

“I fucking told you,” Eddie says, tipping back the bottle of water until it’s empty. “God, I just knew it.”

“So you did,” Tommy says and Eddie crumples up the bottle.

“Are you telling me that you don’t see it?” he demands, tossing the bottle towards the recycling. “Are you seriously telling me that Clipboard Buck is just…Buck to you?”

Tommy’s been hearing about Clipboard Buck for nearly as long as he’s been dating Buck. Like Maurice, the jinx and the heist, it’s one of those things that seems to just pass into the 118 lore. Clipboard Buck is like a unicorn that occasionally appears before vanishing once more. If unicorns wore frowns and clicked their pens if you forgot to follow his exacting instructions.

The thing is that Tommy doesn’t mind. Everyone has their quirks. Howard smacks his gum, Hen frequently forgets to turn off her mothering, Eddie veers to the over dramatic. It’s just one of those things you learn to live with for someone you love.

“It’s endearing,” he says defensively, while Eddie snorts. “Besides, you just have to know how to use it.”

Eddie pauses, mouth open, before he wrinkles his nose. It didn’t take him long to think of the implications.

To be fair, it hadn’t taken Tommy all that long either the first time he’d seen Buck with a clipboard.

“Actually,” Eddie says, grabbing a few new bottles of water from the fridge. “I really don’t want to know.”

“Want to know what?” Buck asks, appearing in the doorway. It’s been hard work - it’s a beautifully sunny Los Angeles day and even with Buck’s loft, there’s still an astounding amount of stuff that needs to be moved in and arranged. Tommy’s - now theirs - bedroom has a significant pile of boxes lined up against the far wall.

Absolutely nothing obstructing the bed. Tommy had been very clear about that.

“What you do with that clipboard,” Eddie says bluntly and ducks out. Tommy reaches out to grab hold of Buck’s waist and pull him closer, deftly removing the clipboard from his grasp.

“This isn’t unpacking,” Buck says against Tommy’s bottom lip. Tommy slides a hand down the curve of Buck’s rear and isn’t surprised that Buck doesn’t take a whole lot of persuading to lean in. They’re pressed together, chests down to knees, and Tommy is pretty sure that Eddie handing out water to the removal guys can at least buy them a few minutes.

“We deserve a break,” Tommy insists and kisses him.

And yeah, a break turns into a few minutes of making out like horny teenagers against the kitchen island but sometimes you take what you have to to get through the day.

“This is going to make it very difficult to move the bookcase,” Buck sighs, letting Tommy kiss along his jaw.

“How’s the list?” Tommy asks, because that’s another, unforeseen advantage of Buck’s clipboard. Aside from the very memorable occasions where Buck writes out every awesomely filthy want in his head (to be ticked off meticulously) it also gives them an end goal for when everyone else goes home.

“Getting there,” Buck says, sliding a hand around Tommy’s neck. “A few more boxes, some bigger items. Are you sure all this stuff is going to fit?” Tommy shrugs. He hadn’t worried about it too much. He’s got the space and they’re both off tomorrow. Tonight they can christen the bed and unpack Buck’s essentials and tomorrow they can make a start on combining their lives.

“We’ll manage,” Tommy soothes. He can hear noises outside and they don’t have long but he wants to keep Buck here for just a moment longer. He smells faintly of sweat and lemon shower gel and Tommy wants to just keep breathing it in.

But when they emerge from the kitchen - the back of Buck’s hair rather obviously ruffled - they encounter an obstacle in the living room. Literally.

“We’ll have to shift that,” Tommy notes, because there’s not quite enough space for his couch, Buck’s couch, and the armchair. “It’s not exactly going to…Buck?”

Because Buck is staring, wide-eyed at the collection of furniture currently crowding Tommy’s front room.

“You have a couch,” Buck says and Tommy blinks.

“Yes,” he says. “Most people do.”

“I have a couch,” Buck says and Tommy is completely lost. He’s learned a lot of things about Buck by now - the jealousy (the incident with Sal was a good indicator,) the insecurities, the abandonment issues, and the obvious Clipboard Tyrant tendencies. Not one of them has been a deal breaker, despite Buck’s concerns.

But this is new.

“Still not seeing the problem here, Evan,” Tommy says. Eddie passes by the open doorway, hands now empty of water bottles. He sticks his head through, and briefly makes a confused face at Tommy behind Buck’s back.

“My previous couches came with girlfriends,” Buck explains and Eddie hurriedly disappears again.

“Did this couch come with a girlfriend?” Tommy asks, eying the blue three-seater that’s been wedged up against the wall.

“Look, I never had a couch because I lived in a frat house and then with Abby. And then couch one was chosen by Ali, who left me. Couch two had to go when Taylor moved in and then she moved out and I didn’t have a couch. And then my mom bought me a couch but Cameron had her baby on it and Couch four had to go to Goodwill because it was chosen by Natalia the Death Doula.”

“I see,” Tommy says, although he really doesn’t. But there’s not a lot of point in trying to decipher Buck when he babbles like this. “So. You bought this couch. By yourself?”

“No girlfriends,” Buck says and gestures to the couch in question. “Statistically, I don’t have the best luck with couches. Or girlfriends. If I get rid of this couch, I’m starting the cycle all over again. I know Hen told me to stop counting but if I buckle on this it’s very not Buck 5.0.”

Not one word of that made sense to Tommy. But he knows when Buck is spiraling and for some reason right now, Buck is spiraling.

“Evan,” Tommy says and rests his hands on either side of Buck’s face. He strokes his thumbs over Buck’s cheeks until he stops talking. “It’s fine. We can keep your couch. Mine can go downstairs or we can move the armchair. You don’t need to get rid of it.”

“I don’t?” Buck asks, looking dumbfounded.

“No,” Tommy says firmly. He still doesn’t quite understand it but the thing is that he doesn’t need to to soothe Buck. Buck’s worried about something and he can fix it. That’s all there is. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow. Your couch looks nice up here.”

“Okay,” Buck mumbles and then slumps against Tommy. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Tommy says and presses a kiss against the port-wine stain of Buck’s birthmark.

They stay like that for a while, wrapped around each other, Buck tucking his head in the curve of Tommy’s neck.

“I knew there might be complications moving in together, I just didn’t expect something like that,” Tommy says frankly when Buck finally lifts his head up.

“I’ll explain later,” Buck says, looking a little sheepish now that the moment of panic is over. “We should get the rest of the stuff in. Where’s Eddie?”

“Run away like a chicken,” Tommy says. “Does he know about the couch theory?”

“He knows,” Buck says darkly. Okay, maybe this is another part of the 118 lore - and Tommy needs to remember to ask later about the Buck labeling system. What was Buck 1.0? Does he even want to know?

When they emerge out into the sunshine again, the removal men and Eddie are sitting on the grass out front, drinking water.

“All good?” Eddie asks and Buck offers him a hand.

“Good,” he says, pulling Eddie up. “Are we nearly done?”

“You tell me,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips and looking at Tommy. It’s very much saying ‘You asked for this.’

But all Tommy can think as Buck hurries back inside for his clipboard is that yes, he absolutely did.

[redrose10]

Here is Chapter 17! There’s going to be one more little chapter that I’ll post in a day or two that is pretty much just pure fluff. But chapter 17 basically closes out this story. Thank you to everyone that has read and stuck with me through this. I know the story got a little all over the place at times, but this is the first multi chapter fic I’ve ever written and I never planned for it to go this far to be honest. I appreciate all of the comments and messages as always!

I posted a teaser for a new story that I’ll start releasing in about a week or so and I might also have this idea for a little Drabble series type thing about a relationship between Yoongi and his co-worker (Y/N) and how their relationship blossoms while he’s fulfilling his military requirements through his civil service assignment.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 2,496

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

Your eyes kept switching between Yoongi, Mia, and Suri. Jin already looked like he’d rather be anywhere else besides sitting at this table right now. Yoongi hadn’t taken his eyes off of Mia and you weren’t sure who was enjoying it more, her or Suri. Finally after what seemed like hours Yoongi walked forward taking a seat across from Mia and you followed close behind taking a seat next to him.

Mia reached across to grab his hand and to your surprise he let her. A small blush crept across his cheeks. “Yoongles how have you been? You’re looking really good.”, she spoke making you roll your eyes at the nickname.

Your attention was pulled elsewhere when Suri suddenly called your name, “Y/N, I doubt Yoongi ever told you, but him and Mia were engaged. Unfortunately it didn’t work out. They make such a cute couple though, don’t you think?” You glared at Suri while you tried to figure out her game. She wants Yoongi so bad, but here she is gloating about what a great couple Mia and him were.

“Yoongles we should get together sometime. You know maybe get dinner or something. Then we can go back to your place and I can do that thing for you that I know you like.”, she said with a smirk running her fingers up and down his hand. Yoongi still hadn’t said anything since the two of you walked in the door. You’re not sure what came over you, but you reached over ripping his hand out of her reach and pulling it down onto your lap, “No thank you. He has a WIFE who’s more than willing to do anything and everything that he likes and more so he doesn’t need some cheating, selfish, gold digger like yourself in his life.” Everyone at the table looked at you with wide eyes and jaws dropped surprised by your little outburst. For the first time Yoongi acknowledged you by giving your hand a little squeeze.

Mia chuckled, “Oh Y/N, he really brainwashed you didn’t he? Do you think he actually cares about you let alone loves you? I heard all about it from Suri. I’m not surprised really. I mean he’s a successful, handsome, wealthy businessman and you are a poor orphan girl who will never be anything other than that. You were nothing more than a good deal to him and his family. A way to boost his image and in turn make him more money. He told me that himself.” You gasped looking to Yoongi for any sign that she was lying. When his expression didn’t change you shoved his hand out of your lap with force. Mia faked a shocked expression, “You mean you didn’t tell her Yoongi? You didn’t tell her about our little meet up a few weeks ago where you told me all about how much you couldn’t stand her and how you regretted this whole marriage?” The entire time this conversation had been taking place Suri has been off to the side reveling in watching it all. She knew bringing Mia back into the mix would be the final nail in the coffin that she needed to get you out of their life. Yoongi could never resist his first love.

You could feel the tears begin to form. You didn’t want to cry and show weakness in front of these people, but it seemed like your brain wasn’t going to cooperate. Abruptly standing up you tried to walk off towards the exit, but Yoongi grabbed your wrist begging you to stop, “Y/N please let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

The sound of the slap was probably heard through the entire building. Yoongi winced placing a hand on his reddened cheek. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again Yoongi.”, you whispered before trying to run off only to stop and turn to Suri instead realizing you had some unfinished business.

You wanted to get in her face, but decided to keep your distance reminding yourself that she was pregnant.

“Are you happy now Suri? Is this what you wanted? Look how many lives you’ve ruined and for what? You think you’re so smart and powerful, but in reality you’re an idiot who abuses others for your own personal benefit. You’ll get what’s coming to you one day.”

She stood there smiling at you for a few moments before finally speaking, “Y/N, I told you that I always get what I want and I meant it. I don’t care who or what I have to destroy to do it. I’ve had Yoongi wrapped around my finger for years and I wasn’t going to allow you to take that from me.”

“You’ve blackmailed him for years.”, you cut her off with the correction.

“So fucking what? I blackmailed him. I’ve blackmailed a lot of people. I’ve blackmailed Yoongi, Namjoon, my own brother, and countless other people and I don’t give a fuck. They all deserved it. That’s how I get shit done. Unlike you I won’t stop until I achieve my goal. I don’t just back down and let others walk all over me.”

She was somewhat out of breath after her rant was over with. You were about to respond when a very loud knock at the door stopped you.

“Good grief, it’s about time.”, Jin mumbled as he got up to let them in. Within seconds two detectives came walking over followed by two more police officers handcuffs already out.

One of the officers walked forward towards Suri, “Suri Cho, you are under arrest for the extortion of Yoongi Min, Namjoon Kim, and Han Cho. You are also being charged with making threats against Y/N Min and Mia Park. We don’t want to have to put you in handcuffs in your current condition so please come with us peacefully.”

“W-What? No absolutely not! I haven’t done anything wrong.”, she said backing herself against the wall.

“Miss Cho, please come with us.”, the officer said inching closer.

“I have not done anything wrong. You have no proof of any of these charges you are putting against me.”

From the corner of the room Jin cleared his throat. “Actually, here are transcripts of texts, voicemails, and emails between Suri and Namjoon as well as the paternity test confirming the identity of her unborn child. Here is the recording that we ourselves obtained of her confessing to blackmailing Yoongi for years.”, he said handing over everything that he had pulled out of his bag. “You guys also have the live feed that you just obtained with the help of Mia.”, Jin reminded them while zipping up his bag before throwing Suri a smug look.

“What?!”, she shouted looking over at the woman still sitting across from you.

“Did you have something to do with this? I asked you for help! How could you betray me like this?”, Suri shouted.

Mia walked over to one of the detectives and gave his cheek a kiss before turning her attention back to Suri with a smirk. She opened up her blouse slightly to reveal a microphone, “Maybe next time you want help breaking the law don’t contact and threaten someone who happens to be married to one of the top detectives in the country.”

Suri looked stunned.

“Miss Cho, it’s time to come with us.”, one of the officers repeated. Suri looked at all of you with tears of anger in her eyes before following after the officers. You felt a sudden sense of relief watching her walk out of your home.

“Well that was eventful. Thank you everyone for your hard work in orchestrating this. I didn’t realize I was surrounded by so many actors. Yoongi and Y/N I’ll be in contact as you will have to be summoned for questioning. Mia, weird seeing you again. Don’t cheat on your husband, he seems nice. Stay classy as always.”, Jin spoke before grabbing his belongings and also heading out the door.

Yoongi walked over to you wrapping an arm around your waist as you both looked over at Mia hoping she’d get the hint. Awkwardly she shuffled her feet while rubbing her arm.

“So I’m glad everything worked out. I was really worried she’d loose it. I had been ignoring her for a while thinking she’d eventually give up on this whole crazy idea, but when she came to me saying she was pregnant and that she was going to claim it wasn’t consensual I knew I had to reach out to you guys. I think she realized everything was starting to fall apart and she was getting desperate and even more delusional.”

“Uh yeah that’s why we decided to get the police involved. Originally we didn’t want to, but the longer this went on and the crazier she got we knew that simply just threatening her wouldn’t do anything.”, Yoongi responded.

“I just feel bad for the baby. That’s the only reason I didn’t want her to get arrested like this.”, you sighed.

Mia smiled, “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll work something out for her. Maybe house arrest or something. I’ll have my husband talk to the prosecutor.”

The air was filled with awkward silence until Mia finally started putting on her coat and heading to the door with you and Yoongi following behind to see her out.

“Maybe we could hang out some time. Go on a double date or something now that we’ve grown up and moved past what happened between us.”, she chuckled looking at Yoongi. You had a hard time reading his expression, but it looked like you could still detect a hint of admiration in his eyes as he looked at his past love. Your heart filled with sadness or maybe jealousy, you weren’t really sure.

“Listen Mia, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us with this Suri situation and I really do thank you. But having you in my life isn’t good for me any more. I’ve spent years hating you and hating myself because of what you did to me. I tried my hardest to make Y/N hate me because I didn’t think I could ever love someone again the way I loved you. I have learned to forgive you though and I’ve finally gotten to a point where I feel that it’s okay to let go of that part of my life and move on while looking forward to the future with Y/N. So we are going to politely decline the invite and while I wish you nothing but happiness for the rest of your life, respectfully please get out of my house and I hope we never have to see each other again.”

You looked on with a shocked expression waiting for her to blow up, but instead she smiled and nodded, “I understand. Glad I could help with this though. Best of luck to you both.”

After the door closed behind her you and Yoongi walked into the kitchen so he could grab a drink. He still seemed a little shaken up. While he was sipping on his water you walked up behind and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I love you.”, you mumbled into his back.

He chuckled before turning around to face you, “I love you too Y/N.” He leaned in to give you a kiss and you reciprocated the action. He winced a little before lightly rubbing his cheek, “I know I agreed to the slap to make it more believable, but I really didn’t think you were going to hit me as hard as you could like that.”

“I know I’m sorry. I got a little carried away, but I’ve been wanting to do that for a while. Plus Mia got me a little more heated than I thought she would when she was saying all that stuff.”, you giggled.

“Yeah something tells me that she wasn’t completely acting.”

You smiled, “Yeah well something tells me I wasn’t completely acting when I called her a selfish, cheating, gold digger either.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer and get a better look at his cheek, “Come here, I’ll kiss it better.”,

He smirked, “Well if that’s the case I have a few other places that are a little sore too.”

Rolling your eyes you grabbed his hand and pulled him down towards the bedroom.

After he was sat down on the bed you straddled his lap and began placing kisses along his jaw and neck, but you quickly noticed he seemed distracted. Pulling away you followed his line of sight and saw that he was staring at his dresser.

“Everything okay?”, you asked getting off of him and taking a seat on the bed instead.

He shook his head before walking over to the dresser grabbing a familiar red bottle. He popped off the top and the room immediately filled with the very familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Something that you had grown to despise. A scent that at one point would make you feel sick to your stomach. Until one day it didn’t and instead it started to smell like the comfort it was advertised as.

Yoongi stared down at the bottle in his hands before he laughed, “Mia first bought me this cologne as a gift for Christmas many years ago. I was never a huge fan of it, but she would always go on and on about how much she loved it. I continued to buy it just to make her happy. Then even after we broke up I still bought it because I didn’t want to let that part of me go. I guess I thought if I kept using this cologne I could trick myself into thinking it never happened and keep that part of my life with me forever.”

He paused for a moment before scoffing to himself, “Looking back that was pretty stupid. The cologne had nothing to do with it and I was just using it to cover up my true emotions that I didn’t want to face.”

You walked over resting your head on his shoulder and began rubbing his back, “It’s not stupid Yoongi. You did what you had to do to cope. You can keep it or you can throw it away and we’ll get you something different. It’s up to you.”

He stared into your eyes before nodding and walking into the bathroom and not long after you heard a loud clank from the glass hitting the bottom of the trash can. A few seconds later he emerged with a gummy smile looking like he felt lighter and happier than he had in a while.

He walked over and placed his hands on your hips before turning you around and falling back onto the bed pulling you on top of him,

“Now Mrs. Min, where were we?”

[azaharinflames]

the ratings are not going to drop, the last episode did very well, so do you think GA really cared about Tommy? We talk about it but sometimes I feel like it's more how we would like to see the situation than what the reality is for viewers who follow the show without interacting on social media.

Hi, Nonnie! Thanks for the ask

Thing is - the ratings are dropping, regardless of Tommy. They’ve been steadily dropping since the beginning of the season, especially since the Young Sheldon spin-off premiered. And again - that is independent from Tommy.

I will also add that there isn’t a real reason for the people to stop watching if it was because of Tommy, which maybe is an unpopular opinion. But what we see in canon is Buck longing for Tommy. If you look at the show and just the show and not the interviews, wouldn’t you expect something to happen? Thus, wouldn’t you still watch, in case it does? The break up was open ended for a reason - if that was to keep the audience engaged until they find a new LI, or if that was to later on have them come back together, we won’t know for a long while.

I will say, some of the GA did express disappointment. GA doesn’t mean they absolutely never use social media, at least with part of the GA. The response to the break up wasn’t just kept in fandom - it was one of the only times I’ve seen some members of the GA actually making themselves known. I think it’s undeniable the GA at the very least liked Tommy, and the insistence that they didn’t seems very like the other side.

All in all - regardless of Tommy, 911 could be doing better in terms of rating. It’s normal for the audience to drop as the season goes, but there is also a clear winner in the competition of the night, and 911 isn’t it. Which is to be expected, as Young Sheldon (the spin off) is fairly new and I know people were excited for it.

We’ll see what happens once 8b airs. Hopefully the hiatus helps the ratings.

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, and discussing (911 or whatever) :)

Take care <3

[berryhobii]

Reconnect (myg x reader)

Pairing: Idol!Min Yoongi x black!wedding designer!female! Reader

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, mentions of secret relationship, mentions of a wedding(but not Yoongi and the reader’s), reader and Yoongi are engaged, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), unprotected sex(please speak to your partners before engaging in this), vaginal sex, squirting, creampies, riding, doggy style, mating press/missionary, oral(f receiving), soft dom Yoongi(he’s super soft and vocal but also goes kind of rough😊), rough sex, multiple orgasms(f and m receiving), brief aftercare and mentions of amazing aftercare, reader has goddess locs(color and length not specified), reader also has that Wendy’s Strawberry Lemonade kitty, reader also also has nipple piercings, reader got a fat ass because who doesn’t appreciate a nice booty?

A/N: Hi! This is my second time uploading something. I’ve had this story in my drafts for a while. I had been writing it using she/her pronouns so I’ve been spending the past few days to change those to you/yours. If I missed any, I’m sorry but please let me know so I can make the story more cohesive. Reader is black but their skin color isn’t really described but I believe I referred to their nipples being dark so that’s it. My next post with either be a GreekMythology!Jimin or a Gamer!Jungkook. The Jimin story is actually really long so I think I’ll turn it into a small series but I’ll post the 1st chapter sometime next week. Thanks again for reading! Criticism is greatly accepted and I hope my black and melanated girlies feel good reading this! Have a good day.

~

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I said we’d have dinner but we have to do some last minute recording.”

You tried not to sound disappointed when you replied. “That’s okay. I understand.” And you truly did. You knew how important his job was and that it would be a priority of his.

You just wished that it didn’t take so much of his time. You understood that his music was his life and that it was his dream career. All of his hard work had led up to being able to do what he does now; to make music and inspire the millions of fans that listened. You were so proud of him. Seeing him live his dream filled you with a different kind of pride and emotion. He was happy and that’s all you ever wanted for him.

Still, you missed him. You two had barely spent any time together the past month while he’s been preparing for their new album. He’d come home long after you’d fallen asleep and he’d sleep into the afternoon, just to rise and immediately get ready to go again. You couldn’t even have breakfast together like you used to. You could barely even start a conversation before he was cutting you off with a kiss and rushing out of the door.

While you had your own career of designing wedding dresses, you still had so much free time on your hands. You had already designed your newest collection and it was currently in production to be created. You’ve even made multiple visits to a few stores and they were running amazingly. There was only so long you could bury yourself in work before your heart began yearning for Yoongi’s companionship.

“I promise when this is finished, we’ll go on a trip. Just you and me.”

That made you smile. You and Yoongi have traveled a lot together over the years; Bora Bora, Italy, The Maldives—and each experience had been just as memorable and romantic as the last. He proposed to you in Italy at the Orange Gardens. It was such a magical moment. Just thinking about it made you want to cry. The entire trip was just absolutely perfect; from taking a gondola ride on the gorgeous waters to the 5 Star hotel they stayed in for 3 days and 2 nights, all the way to the candlelit dinner where he got down on one knee. You remember it fondly.

While the promise of a trip together didn’t fix your loneliness now, it gave you something to look forward to.

You couldn’t fight the smile in your voice. “Okay.” Your eyes went over to the stove where dinner was cooking. You had just finished searing some steaks that were finishing up in the oven. There was no point of putting them away for him to eat later. They wouldn’t be as flavorful or tender.

“Hey, is it okay if I bring you some dinner? I know you haven’t eaten yet.” Your tone shifted to one of slight teasing but you knew you were right. His pause of silence was proof enough.

“You don’t have to do that, baby.”

“I want to though. I made steak and I’ll feel better knowing you’ve eaten. I won’t stay long or distract you.” Just knowing he had a home cooked meal would make you happy. You would nag him constantly about drinking too much coffee and eating take out. It came from a place of love, however and Yoongi never minded. He loved having someone so attentive to his health when he’d blatantly ignore it. It showed you cared. Also, he secretly loved being babied by you. He’d never admit it out loud or to his friends but you knew. There was nothing better than coming home, a bath prepared for him to soothe his sore muscles, a meal on the table, and cuddling into your soft breasts while your rubbed his back—always being careful with his shoulder.

Your already nurturing nature and tendency to baby Yoongi increased tenfold once he got surgery. You barely let him leave the bed, even following him to the bathroom to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. A little bit stifling but he was so grateful to you. You always took care of him.

“Then that sounds great. I’ll leave my door open for you. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

With a giddy pep in your step, you finished cooking dinner, packaging it nicely in cute Tupperware before putting it in a bag. You had already showered and your clothes were fine but you wondered if you should put on something different. While Yoongi thought you looked good in anything, you still liked to look pretty for him; wearing dresses and heels whenever you went out, keeping your nails and toes done, and making appointments to get waxed every month. Self care was important to you. It not only made you feel good about yourself but it was also something you just liked to do for your husband.

Deciding to change your clothes, you slipped on a t shirt maxi dress that hugged and showed off all of your curves, along with some short open toed shoes to show off your freshly painted white toes. It was simple but still dressy and feminine, just your style.

Checking your hair once more in the mirror and smearing on some lip gloss, you grabbed the bag of food and your keys before exiting your home.

~

HYBE Studios was a pretty moderate drive from your apartment. The reason for that is to keep crazy fans from ever finding it. Once the company realized other idols were having their homes broken into, there was a decision to move all of the boys about 30 minutes from the company in a luxury gated neighborhood. You had to admit, you missed your old apartment you shared with Yoongi since that was their first place together but you also couldn’t complain about the walk in closet and the jacuzzi bathtub.

You greeted the security guard in front of the car garage, him lifting the block to the garage. After parking close to the company cars that were often used to transport the boys during RunBTS, you exited your car and made your way through the side door to the lobby.

You nodded at the secretary, everyone already knowing who you were and letting you pass with no issue.

Yoongi’s studio was on the 8th floor at the end of the hall. Namjoon’s was just a short distance away as well.

Once you reached his door, you entered the pin code on the keypad. Besides a few staff members and the boys, you were one of the few with the password to his studio. He just preferred silence and no disruptions so the code was only used during emergencies or whenever you or the boys came to visit. There was also a group chat for everyone with his code, adorably named ‘The Plastics’, courtesy of Taehyung. If they ever needed to come to his studio, they’d send a text beforehand so he’d know to expect them.

The beep sounded and you opened the door, smiling at the sight of your husband who was cutely leaned over on his right palm as his eyes scanned the production screen for his music. You didn’t get most of it but you always found it adorable when he’d try to explain. He’d get so invested in telling you how reverb and delay could either make or break a song that he’d never see how endearingly you’d stare at him. And he’d always get surprised when you’d lunge to bite his cheek.

“You are just too adorable! I have to bite you!”

His headphones were around his neck so he turned at the sound of his door opened, a smile immediately rising to his face at the sight of you. He removed his headphones, standing to greet you.

You could barely put the food down before his hands were around you waist, pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, cuddling into his body as you inhaled his cologne and the gentle scent of his favorite body wash.

He pulled away a little to press a few pecks to your forehead. “Hi baby.” His deep, slightly tired voice sent shivers down you spine. It was almost like his regular voice was just his morning voice constantly and out of all of the little things you loved about him, his voice was towards the top of your list—right after his newly grown out hair, his hands, and that little habit of him slurping whenever he’d explain things.

You inhaled a deep breath, basking in the affection. “Hi.”

You two just held each other for a moment, locked in an embrace and not wanting to let go. This was your special kind of intimacy, just not speaking or moving, simply holding one another.

Yoongi considered himself a pretty private person. A little ironic considering he was a world famous idol who’s whole job was being put in the spotlight. However, when it came to his personal relationships, he did his best to keep that as private as possible. Just imagine the uproar when people found out he was engaged. You had been hidden from the public eye for 3 straight years before you got engaged. How? One part extreme luck, the other part moving quietly. Your relationship started off with you meeting for the first time at a staff member’s wedding. You had designed her dress and she was so amazed and in love with how you created her dream dress that she insisted you come to her wedding. Always happy to see people overjoyed with your work and excited to see your design in action, of course you agreed. Coincidentally, you were sat pretty close to the table the boys were at. When you recognized them, you softly smiled and introduced yourself, expressing how you were a fan and how many women said they were using BTS songs as their wedding songs. Yoongi was drawn in instantly, your gentle voice and sparkling eyes as you talked about your clients drew him in. He could tell you were passionate about your career, just like he was.

After exchanging numbers while the bride and groom were cutting the cake, you two mainly texted and called each other in your free time. It took about 4 months for you to go on their first date since Yoongi had to go to America for promotions. He thought you’d lose interest since he traveled and couldn’t take you on a proper date but you never minded. You liked talking to Yoongi and found yourself developing feelings for him. He was trying and effort was one of your biggest green flags for a partner. A little distance wasn’t that big of a deal to you. Of course, you wanted to be able to be close to him and hold his hand and maybe even kiss but you knew what you were signing up for when you started talking.

Once Yoongi went on break, he started dedicating a lot of time to you; dates, inviting you to his place for dinner and wine, and learning more about you. He didn’t think you would get along so well. Talking on the phone was vastly different than being in each other’s physical presence but you had melded together like the pieces of a puzzle. You were so gentle and compassionate, always looking after him and giving him affection he hasn’t gotten in years. You were perfect for him and vice versa.

Your eyes slowly blinked up at him, just taking in his handsome features. You could spot the bags under his eyes, feeling a little sad that he was running himself ragged.

“You look tired. Have you slept since his morning?”

He hummed. “I took a little nap around lunch. The new couch came in.” You turned a little to look at the new addition to his studio. Before, he just had a small leather couch, moreso for decoration than comfort. Once he got a bigger studio, he upgraded his furniture but kept that couch. After some prodding from you, he ordered a new and more comfortable couch—one that could become a pull out bed for those overnights at the studio.

“It looks great.” It was a dark grey color, wide and stretched enough to fully support 2 people if you wanted to spoon on it.

“Yeah. I just didn’t think it would take that long to get it in the door. Namjoon almost knocked over my synthesizer.” He said that with a shake of his head. You giggled, imagining the tall and clumsy man scrambling to pick up the keyboard.

“I can only imagine. I brought food. You should eat it before it gets cold. I should go.” You tried pulling away from him only for him to tighten his grip on your waist. You let out an “oof” as your face met the hard planes of his chest. All that physical therapy and time in the gym had really bulked him up. While you loved his body regardless, you definitely weren’t complaining about the extra muscle. He was filling out this black shirt just fine.

He nuzzled his nose in your neck, inhaling your favorite perfume that you’ve worn since he met your. It was one of his favorite scents. His hands rubbed up and down your back, feeling all over the material of your dress.

“No, stay. Eat with me.”

Yoongi could be very affectionate and straightforward when he wanted to be, normally when you were alone. He’d never show this side in public. Not because he was ashamed of his love for your, far from that. He just preferred to keep their intimate moments private. Maybe a little kiss here and there and some hand holding but moments like this were for you only.

Your manicured fingers went to his nape, scratching at the hair there. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“You’re not.” He pulled back to look you in eyes. “I want you to eat with me. I feel bad we couldn’t have dinner at home.” And he did. He knew his job demanded a lot of his time and attention and even if you understood that, it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about leaving you alone all the time. He knew you could entertain yourself and had your own life outside of him but he still felt bad not being able to spend as much time with you as he wanted. He missed you just as much. While he loved his job, nothing beat coming home to your warmth and affection. To be honest, he was getting a little touch starved.

He led you over to the couch, waiting for your to sit before going to the mini fridge in his studio.

“Do you want juice?” He asked as he pulled out a couple of drinks. He always kept some of your favorites in his mini fridge just in case. You didn’t drink caffeine or really any alcohol, water and juices were your favorites.

You nodded your head, beginning to take out the Tupperware containers. They were still nice and hot. He placed a juice down on the table, along with an energy drink. You frowned at that, leaning forward to pick it up.

“You need to drink water. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those coffee cups on your desk.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed but couldn’t hide his smile. You were too good to him. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve you. Taking the energy drink from you, he went back to the fridge to grab a water instead.

Ignoring the smug smile on your face, he sat next to you, waiting for you to open all of the containers. The smell was delicious, making his stomach growl.

Your handed him some chopsticks and a few napkins before sliding the steak over to him. “Here. Try it.”

You ate in silence, him using his chopsticks to place some pieces of steak and vegetables in your bowl. You smiled, the cute ways Yoongi showed he cared always making your heart warm. Fans knew he was more subtle in showing he cared and that wasn’t any different than him in private. You had to learn that his love language was acts of service but in a more quiet way.

After you finished eating, he helped clean up the containers, giving you some wipes to clean your hands and the table.

He let out of a groan as he sat back down on the couch, belly full and fully ready for a nap. But he knew he had to get back to work and that meant you had to leave.

“Thanks, baby. It was delicious.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, rubbing the soft skin. You hummed, placing your hand on top of his.

“Of course. I’m happy you liked it.” You both rested for a moment before you began moving. “I should go. You have work to do.”

You barely made it to your feet before he was tugging you back down on his lap. A surprised yelp came from your lips at the sudden movement, ass meeting his thighs when you landed. He situated you so that you straddled his hips, his hands immediately going to your ass.

“Baby….” You pouted, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. You were normally the one who initiated physical affection so for Yoongi to do it so roughly surprised you. You weren’t complaining, however. The way his eyes were hooded over and how he looked up at you with that dark endearment made your belly tingle. You knew where this was going.

“Stay.” His left hand pressed your body down so your chest squished against his. “You come here in this dress and my favorite shoes…”

You adjusted yourself to wrap your arms around his neck. “I hardly wear these.”

He shrugged. “I love anything you wear. You look so sexy.” His hand traveled up your dress, moving it up your ass so he could grope full handfuls of the fat. While Yoongi appreciated all parts of your body, your ass was his favorite. Genetics, exercise and a little bit of happy weight had all accumulated into jiggly ass he loved to squeeze and slap. When you met, you were pretty thin but in shape nonetheless. Fans speculated that you gained ‘happy relationship weight’ since Yoongi treats you right. Whatever the reason, he thanks the higher power every day for it.

You could feel the heat beginning to spark between you, along with Yoongi’s growing boner pressing against your panties. Now that you thought about it, it’s been a little while since you’ve been intimate. You and Yoongi have barely had any time for quickies, let alone a full session of sex. And you two could go for hours if you wanted. On the day of your engagement, you barely left the hotel room because you couldn’t keep your hands off him. How could you? He was your fiancé. Mmm, that word just got you hot and bothered.

Your hands ran up his neck and into his hair, scratching at his scalp. The low hum of contentment that came from him spurred you on. You brought your faces closer together, lips hovering before you trapped him in a kiss. He hummed again, lifting his head to kiss you deeper, hands still squeezing at your ass.

Your kiss grew more heady, both of your hands massaging each other and trying to stroke any piece of skin you could. Yoongi began pushing against you to make your roll your hips against him. His cock could probably cut glass from how hard he was. You always got him excited with barely doing anything. To be honest, he started getting hard the moment you entered the room. Just your presence got him feeling almost immediately horny.

And it was the same for you. Your cunt had began getting wet the moment Yoongi turned around in his chair. He just looked so comfortable and effortlessly sexy and the way his muscles strained against that shirt made your imagination run wild.

You pulled away to inhale a deep breath. “Yoongi….please…”

His lazy smirk sent a rush straight to your already wet pussy. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

God he was such a tease but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it.

“I need you.”

That was all he needed before he moved to flip you onto your back. You bounced against the soft couch cushions, barely getting your bearings before he was back on you, pressing his lips to yours.

His large hands traveled up your dress, lifting it over your belly and breasts. He leaned back to get a look, letting out a groan at the absolute beauty under him.

Your chest was heaving from just a little kissing, your goddess locks spread out under you, glossed lips plump and ready for more. You were so gorgeous and he made sure to let you know.

You squirmed under the compliment, feeling giddy and a bit bashful. You always received compliments and the occasional catcall and while you accepted the respectful ones gracefully, none of those ever mattered to you. Yoongi’s praise and compliments put you on cloud 9 and you really believed him.

His hands traveled up your body to your breasts, eyes catching something under your bra. He pulled the annoying piece of fabric down and if he could get any harder, he probably would.

“Fuck. You’re wearing your piercings? Did you come here to try and kill me?” The little diamonds sparkled under the light. He remembers buying the jewelry for your birthday last year. He also remembers sucking the sensitive nipples until you were crying just an hour later.

You giggled, biting your lip. “Of course not.”

His smirk widened. “You little sneak.” His hands went to grope at the soft flesh, a sigh falling from your lips. His thumbs ran lightly over the stiff peaks, pulling more sighs and little squeaks from your lips. Your nipples had gotten so much more sensitive after piercings. Yoongi couldn’t be too rough on them when you first got them, being careful of your healing process. He could barely touch them without you gasping in the slight pain from healing. Of course, he never complained, understanding your pain so he just stopped touching them. He just didn’t think it would test his control so much; seeing you walk around without a shirt sometimes, the already silky and delectable breasts looking more appetizing from the little barbells. Months had passed along with many maintenance appointments before you announced that they could be touched without pain. With the pain gone, your sensitivity skyrocketed and with Yoongi’s skilled tongue beginning their assault, your pleasure had been taken to a new level.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and his mouth open to lick over your nipple. You let out a moan as his tongue swirled all around your piercing. He switched to the next one, giving it the same treatment.

The heat between your legs was becoming too much, your panties beginning to feel uncomfortable from how they were sticking to you.

“Yoongi….” You whined. His eyes lifted to lock on your flustered face, lips parted as puffs of air came through them, your eyes desperate and pleading for anything. Everything.

Reluctantly pulling away from your nipples, he helped you pull the dress from your body, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of you cared.

He kissed from your breasts to your tummy until he reached the apex of your thick thighs. You immediately dropped them open, revealing yourself to him. He groaned at your desperation but also at the sight of your soaked underwear. The thong barely covered anything, the baby blue fabric now dark from your arousal. It was practically leaking from you, the bottom of your ass shining. Kissing over the stretch marks that streaked down the inside of your thighs, he whispered words of praise to you.

“Fuck baby. You’re so fucking wet.” He couldn’t help himself, surging forward to suck on your clit through your panties. A shiver racked your body, your hands coming down to bury in his hair. The friction wasn’t as good with your panties still keeping his tongue from making direct contact with your clit but it was something. And it felt so good.

Your hips jerked against his face, trying to get more. His hands dug into the meat of your thighs, holding them open as his tongue licked at your clit.

More moans fell from your lips, pleasure causing your vision to go blurry. You felt so close already and he’s barely done anything. Blame it on you not having a proper orgasm for weeks. Your hands just didn’t feel the same and Yoongi had thrown out all of your vibrators once you two started having sex.

“You won’t need these anymore. All your orgasms should come from me.”

Now you were remembering why he threw them out in the first place. Only he could rip pleasure and orgasms from your body in seconds, playing your body like a piano.

Your hand came down your body, tapping against his forehead. He pulled away slightly, eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. You really only stopped him when you were shaking in overstimulation and he knew you hadn’t even cum yet so why were you stopping him?

When he pulled back, you grabbed onto your panties, pulling them aside to reveal your fat and dripping pussy to him.

How the hell did he get so lucky? Did he save orphans in his past life or something? Not only had he managed to put a ring on a kind, generous, and absolutely amazing person who treated him like a King and opened up the deepest parts of him, he also managed to snag a submissive, slutty, and needy woman who could ride his cock for hours and bend in ways he’s only dreamed of.

There was no way.

Eyes darkening in lust, he dove back in to capture your clit, licking at it more furiously than before. The heat from his mouth made that pressure build in your lower belly, your toes curling from their position in the air. Your loud moans only pushed him further, shoving 2 fingers in your tight heat. Your slick walls gripped his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them.

“Y-Yoongi! I’m gonna-“

He curled his fingers up, pulling away from your clit to lean up close to your face, his breath hitting your cheeks. “You gonna cum? You’re such a good girl.” He pressed some kisses to your open mouth, fingers thrusting in and out of your in a superhuman pace, veins and muscles in his arms shifting and bulging from the exertion.

When your orgasm crashed, you swore all of your senses except touch disappeared. You couldn’t hear and your vision blurred from the tears that had welled in your eyes. But Yoongi didn’t stop.

Your hand flew down to grab at his wrist, back arching as he continued his assault, helping you ride the huge wave.

He pulled his lip between his teeth. You were so sexy.

Once you came down, he slowly pulled his fingers from your, the digits glistening in your release. He sucked them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. He just couldn’t get enough.

Now he wanted more. Standing from the couch, he pulled off his own shirt and pants, taking his briefs with them. His hard cock slapped against his stomach, red at the tip and practically pulsing.

You bit your lip, thighs squeezing together as your pussy throbbed. Fuck you were so wet.

He flopped back on the couch, patting his lap. “Come ride this cock, baby.”

Not needing to be told twice, you crawled over into his lap, taking your bra and ruined panties off on the way.

His hands gripped your ass once you were straddled on his hips. You could feel the heavy weight of his cock pressing on your ass and it filled you with excitement.

Reaching your hand back, you gripped his cock, pumping it a few times. He groaned, head falling back against the couch at your touch.

Delivering a sharp slap to your ass, he growled, “stop teasing.”

His deep and demanding voice sent shivers down your spine. Never one to disobey, you lifted your hips, lining up his cock with your entrance. You rubbed the tip over your opening to gather some of your wetness before you slowly began sinking down on him.

A moan came from both of you as his thick cock began splitting you open. Your walls were squeezing him so tight that he felt like he could cum right there but he refrained. He wasn’t even all the way inside yet.

Your mouth was dropped open as his cock stretched you open, head tossed back and eyes closed as you basked in the feeling. Each ridge and vein was pressing against you in the most delicious way, the slight curve pressing against that spot deep inside of you. You felt like you could cum again just like this.

Once your ass met his thighs, you both let out sighs. Not only from pleasure but from being able to be close like this. This is what you needed; this closeness, this union, this intimacy. Sex was so much more to you than just getting off. It bonded you and brought you closer than ever, love spilling over and intertwining your hearts and souls.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a sweeter and more sensual kiss.

“I love you…” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you too.”

Your hips began rolling against him, slowly at first to get accumulated to the stretch. He assisted you with one hand on your ass and one on your hip.

Before long, you began raising your hips, falling back down on his lap. The low clapping sounds spurring you on.

Yoongi groaned against your lips. “That’s it, baby. Faster.” With another sharp slap to your ass that made you moan, you bounced faster. Your ass jiggled each time it connected with his thighs and a part of him wished he could see it but the blissed out look on your face was too good to pass up.

Unwrapping your arms from his neck, you leaned back to get that perfect angle, your hands landing on his knees. A squeak fell from you as his tip began bullying your soft spot. Your head fell back, mouth dropped open as that delicious feeling began building in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah! Yoongi! Your cock feels s-so good!” You felt drunk, mind hazy and awareness faded. All you could focus on was the feel of him under you and the way his perfect cock slipped in and out. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, electricity spreading all the way to your fingertips and making your toes curl.

Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t even know where to look; your breasts, face, where you were connected? He could see how your arousal was dripping down to wet his pubic hair, a ring of your wetness coating the base of his cock. You were truly was a sight to behold.

That pressure was building faster than you thought. Sliding your hand down your body, your fingers connected with your clit, rubbing the nub in fast circles.

“Yoongi!”

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Your walls clenched and constricted around him, almost suffocating him. His hands rubbed at your nipples, flicking at the piercings. You were seeing stars, the stimulation was too much. His hands roaming you, your own fingers on your clit, and his cock inside of you was all too much.

That pressure…..

“I’m cumming!”

Your hips lifted from his cock, it falling out to slap against his stomach. Your fingers rubbed at your clit until some drips of liquid came out. The motion of your fingers caused the droplets to fly everywhere, some landing on the cushions as well.

Once you were done riding it out, he was flipping you back on the couch, head pressed into the cushions and ass up in the air. He delivered a few slaps to your ass, pulling some moans from your at the sting. Your head was swimming, the sudden movement making you a little dizzy but that dizziness quickly left when Yoongi entered you again.

His cock entered you in one swift motion, hips immediately working to push and pull against you. Your ass clapped back on his hips, the fat jiggling and rippling with every move. His own orgasm was just over the horizon.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust. “You come in here looking this good and then you bounce on my cock until you squirt? Why the fuck have I been spending all my time here when you’re at home?” He was really talking to himself. Only a true idiot would leave a hot piece of ass like this at home all day. And he must really be a true idiot, probably the dumbest man alive. But not anymore.

Your moans were rising in pitch. With this position, you could every inch, every curve, absolutely everything. You could barely breathe, your brain only being able to form utterances of his name and begs of faster and harder.

That feeling in Yoongi began cresting, balls drawing up as his orgasm washed over him. His hands gripped your hips and ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less. He could bruise you up all he wanted.

His orgasm spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, shuddering his whole body. “F-fuck….” He breathed out. That was probably the hardest orgasm he’s ever had in his life.

Your own breath began to even out. You thought that was the end but you were suddenly flipped around back on your back. Both of your legs were hiked up over his right shoulder, thighs pressing into your chest in Yoongi’s absolute favorite position.

“You think I’m done with you?” His smirk was teasing and it caused more arousal to drip from you. He reached his hand down to line himself up before pushing into your heat. A gasp came from your throat at the intrusion, your hands coming to grip at the back of his neck.

His hips set a brutal pace, balls wetly slapping against your ass.

“Oh my god! Y-Yoongi!”

It felt like he was in your throat, every thrust hitting you in all the right spots. Your nails scratched at his neck, the slight sting only pushing him harder. He could feel your walls tightening, a tell tale sign of your orgasm. Your breasts bounced with every push, dark nipples looking incredibly enticing.

“Cum, baby. That’s it.”

Your body seized up as your second orgasm full body absorbed you. Your vision spotted white and your ears were ringing.

But not even your orgasm made him stop or slow down. He pushed faster and harder, the squelching noises getting louder as more and more wetness spilled from you.

It was like your orgasm wouldn’t stop. Wave after wave came over you. Every nerve was lit on fire, your mouth dropped but no sound came out. He had taken every word from you.

When he felt you squirt on his cock again, he shoved his full cock inside. Your toes curled so hard that you could feel them crack, legs shaking but he held them tightly. Your hands smacked against his shoulders as the stimulation became too much. You were so full.

“Yoongi!”

“Take it. Take all that cock, baby.”

You had no choice but you didn’t care. You’d give up every choice if it meant he’d fuck you like this.

He rolled his hips against yours a few more times before his own orgasm washed over him. He groaned into your throat, a full body shudder racking his body.

Lifting his head, he connected your lips in a soft kiss, a complete turn from what just went down. You hummed against his lips, hands roaming his soft skin.

He moved your legs from his shoulders, massaging your slightly sore muscles as you kissed. You both let out small moans as he pulled out of your heat, his cum flowing out of you.

Yoongi helped you clean yourself up, giving you a large elastic to tie up your hair. The sweat would definitely make your roots curl back up but that was a problem for another day. You put your dress back on as Yoongi pulled his shirt and pants back on. Your underwear found themselves tucked into his back pocket. A little silly considering he had endless access to you pussy but you guessed it was some man thing.

When Yoongi went back to his computer, leaning over the chair to click at some things, you visibly deflated, mood dampening. Was he really going back to work? You guessed you did just come to drop off food, the sex was a bonus and you did say you would leave afterwards. You just couldn’t help but feel a little sad and used. Yoongi was the king of aftercare, always running you a bath or giving you cuddles as you two calmed down from lovemaking. It’s not like this one moment would make you think Yoongi didn’t care but you did feel a little defeated.

Gathering your things, you were about to approach the door but Yoongi’s voice stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t turn to face him, feeling a little embarrassed. “Home. Aren’t you going back to work?”

A snort came from him. “Of course not.”

You gasped when his body pressed against your back, also the feeling of his boner was right on your ass.

“Yoongi….”

“You really think I’m about to work and let you go home so you can wash my cum out of you? I’m fucking you until you can’t walk.”

Maybe you should come to the studio more often.

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

The Water 7 Fight: An Analysis

So. Water 7. There’s a lot to be said about the Usopp vs Luffy fight, their motivations, and the right vs wrong of it all…it’s a complex situation, and so I wanted to share some thoughts:

The Set Up

The growing tension and activity that led to the fight between Luffy and Usopp is so so well explored in the scenes right before it happened. Of course, events are kicked off by Usopp’s abduction by the Franky Family, and his subsequent beating and losing the money. This, on top of the many many clues sprinkled throughout the early bits of the arc and earlier arcs regarding his own feelings of inadequacy as well as his connection to the Merry, is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Usopp in my opinion. This was one of his deepest fears, finally realized: he felt that he had finally crossed the line into more than just useless but an active liability to the crew. He admits as much to Nami when he sees her: he’s ashamed more than anything else. He can’t face the others.

Nami’s reaction in this moment is also really interesting. She sees Usopp at possibly one of his most vulnerable moments ever, and she reacts so kindly: she tells him it’s not his fault, that it’s going to be okay, that she’ll get him some help. It’s such a mature and responsible response and out of everyone here I think she reacted most rationally to this whole situation. I think if she had been a little more confident she could’ve engaged in some really good conflict resolution practices with everyone.

At the same time, everyone slowly gets the bad news about the Merry, and their differing reactions are interesting: they’re all upset, and openly discuss that. Sanji even notes that Usopp is going to be particularly upset to hear this, so they’re all already aware that this is going to be quite bad. What’s interesting, though, is Luffy’s reaction: he goes through a similar emotional journey that Usopp does when getting the news, but their ultimate destination is what differs greatly here. I think the difference here is probably down to two factors: 1. Luffy does not have the same particular insecurities that Usopp does and 2. Luffy is the ultimate authority in the decisions here, Usopp is not.

Then, Usopp picks himself back up, badly wounded, to return to the Franky family to try to get the money back. This is a big moment too, because it showcases that he is the type of person to fight even when he knows he isn’t going to win, which is what ends up happening here. Even the moment where he burst in really felt paralleled to the moment he stares down Luffy in a fight later: it’s a really good set up.

And then he gets injured even more, and chopper has to check if he’s even alive when they find him, which is important to note because his physical condition is just dire right now.

I found the reactions of Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Chopper interesting too because they get super angry, obviously, partly because of the money but more because of how Usopp is hurt. In one sense it’s funny that they just left him there while they took revenge for him, but on another it’s a little tragic because that wasn’t what he needed in that moment. I don’t think he ever finds out about it either if my memory served me correctly. There’s another layer of irony in the way they all leap to fight to save their crewmate but we’ll get to that later.

I also think it’s notable that Luffy locks in his decision to get a new ship here, right after they destroy the Franky family’s hideout. I think he felt a sense of responsibility for what happened, maybe believing that if he’d been more decisive in his leadership, then Usopp wouldn’t have been this badly hurt. Which is also just oof. Extremely ironic.

So they take Usopp back and it takes him a while to even wake up, and when he does he’s all apologies. The physical framing of it is interesting too, because he’s on his knees and hugging Zoro’s legs and stuff. He’s not outwardly expressing his shame like he did with Nami earlier but it’s close. He’s not really standing up at all.

And everything seems to be going ok, and Usopp is asking about next steps and then…and then Luffy drops the bomb. And that changes everything.

The Confrontation

Usopp starts the whole argument in full denial. It’s a pretty classic gamut of emotions here: he goes full tilt into the cycles of grief, starting with just straight up denying that Luffy would do this, to bargaining by asking if he was at fault in this situation and trying to convince the others to let him continue fixing the ship. He’s clearly feeling a lot of guilt here: he believes he is directly responsible for the Merry’s “death” as it were and is scrambling trying to take responsibility for fixing her. I think everyone else was taken aback by the level that this guilt went and were wholly unprepared to deal with it. Luffy yelling that he isn’t a carpenter I think was him trying to talk him down but ultimately had the exact opposite effect: all Usopp heard was he had no expertise in this and was useless, and may have even harmed Merry further or out her in this situation to begin with.

This snaps Usopp into the anger stage, and this is where it really starts to get ugly. It’s notable to me that he’s the one that escalated by grabbing at Luffy’s shirt and yelling at him that he excepted better, which were intended to hurt I think. Luffy though gives as good as he gets, and is the one that actually turns the confrontation violent: knocking a grave injured Usopp down. In short: he doesn’t descalate or calm the situation, but instead adds to it. The way his temper is so hair trigger in this scene is extremely interesting to me.

Nobody else intervenes either (at least not yet). All of them try on occasion to tell them to calm down or stop fighting but not more than that. Not even Zoro steps in at this stage, which I found super interesting. Nami tries to tell Usopp at one point that Luffy had a similar emotional reaction ti him about this choice, but Luffy stops her. Funnily enough I think if he hadn’t she may have been able to calm things down a bit here.

It’s not until Luffy is right about to tell Usopp to leave, it’s practically already left his mouth, that someone actually steps in here. And it’s SANJI. Sanji, who knows very well how it feels to be told you don’t belong somewhere anymore. Sanji physically knocks Luffy back and he does it with FORCE, and it’s him who desperately tries to wrangle some control back of the situation. And the thing is: it almost works! Everyone listens to him, nobody objects to his methods, and Luffy actually starts to reign himself back and apologizes!

But it’s a bell that can’t be unrung at this point. Usopp has heard what he heard and has made his decision. What’s interesting here though, and what I realized upon rereading it, was how self aware Usopp was at this stage about the whole thing? Like he was fully aware that he was substituting himself in for the Merry and straight up tells the crew that he thinks he’s useless and that they should get rid of him in the same way that the did the ship. Like…he’s not subtle at ALL about this, and about the reasons why he’s behaving the way he does. He knows exactly why! And he tells them! I honestly credit him for that in a way…he’s spiraling here but he’s aware of it, and he’s aware of exactly what he’s feeling and why. The way this fight is remembered and discussed in fandom I feel is he’s characterized as throwing a tantrum about it but this really isn’t what happened here at all.

Nobody really pulls him back on his statements: I think they were too shocked here to really know what to do. Chopper is falling apart emotionally, Nami is trying to get him to hang back and wait, Sanji even starts yelling at Usopp to come back. Zoro…Zoro says nothing, which interested me a lot too. He does however have a flashback to him being the one to invite Usopp on board, which I have a LOT of thoughts about. From Alabasta, Zoro has been privy to a lot of Usopp moments that were important turning points for him: carrying dalton up the mountain, expressing doubt after long ring long land, etc. I think he’s thinking of those things here too. I think he’s feeling a sense of responsibility here that he doesn’t know what to do with.

Luffy says nothing too. He looks angry, which I think is a cover for upset, but his silence is fascinating. He’s letting things play out here because I think he��s still in fight mode but also because I think he’s letting Usopp make his own choices here, as he should. I think he’s trying to be captainlike here. But…also not quite. He’s spiraling just as bad as Usopp here, imho.

And then, Usopp issues his duel request. There’s a few interesting bits in between where Nami is trying convince Luffy to not go through with it, but he’s very dedicated to doing so anyway. She’s telling LUFFY to apologize which is interesting thinking of the fandom recollection of this fight. She’s trying conflict resolution here but it’s a bit too late for that.

I also like that Sanji and Zoro are fighting about this too, blaming each other for what happened. I think it’s a form of tension release for the two of them, and Nami stopping them shows it’s still a bit of a sensitive time for it anyway. Which leads to:

The Fight

This fight is one of my favorites in OP, insofar as actual fighting techniques/approaches go. It’s unique to the series and so emotional and just hits different. Luffy’s later fight against Sanji hits similar notes but this one stands out specifically because it’s Usopp, who is very much not a fighter in the same way Sanji is.

For one, Usopp’s a ranged fighter, and he’s fighting Luffy at close quarters. He’s already at a MASSIVE disadvantage and he knows this, Luffy knows this, the straw hats know this. It’s his fight to lose, and he picks it anyway. And I think this is what’s so key to this entire conflict, from start to finish: Usopp KNEW he was going to lose. He knew it from the start. He knew Merry was doomed. He knew that from the start too. But he did all of that anyway. Why? I think the why is so incredibly nuanced, from loyalty to pride to fear of rejection to abandonment issues. But it also highlights his tendency to bullheadedly get things done if he thinks he’s the only one left who hasn’t given up on something. And I think that’s so important to him as a character, and it’s this realization and this specific fight that made Usopp into my favorite character. It’s also why I don’t think there’s a black and white wrong and right side to this conflict. From one end, Luffy’s the boss so they need to follow his instructions without question. From another, I like it better when Luffy’s challenged by his crew for both story and character purposes for all involved. I think Luffy needed this to happen, not because he needed to assert his authority as captain, but because he needed to fuck up as a leader and learn from that.

For another, Usopp is also on the brink of collapse this entire time. The fight ends when Luffy gets a single hit in, which means Usopp was on his last legs and he still went through with it. That is super admirable to me and a testament to his super tanking abilities and determination when it counts. He had the deck stacked against him here and he still went for it.

Now: fight techniques. Usopp took this fight seriously, like for real seriously. He pulled every weapon out of his arsenal and went for it, from lying to caltrops to dials and actual honest to god explosions. It was interesting to see the crew be so surprised at him doing so well at the start. He even uses Luffy’s care for his injuries against him which was a notable part of it for me. The impact dial bit is one of my favorites: it’s such a powerful moment to me.

And then he loses, and is probably actively dying as a result lol. Everyone’s absolute devastation, expressed in different ways, was really fascinating to watch. Chopper just trying to run over and fix things and Nami unable to watch hit hard. Zoro being super composed on the outside and holding Luffy together but…yeah he’s not pleased about this. Sanji telling chopper not to go because Usopp doesn’t need pity. Luffy crying…which always is very emotional. Them giving Usopp the ship and moving on to demonstrate that they took all his words seriously but also to acknowledge his dedication to the Merry. Ooof.

Anyway this arc physically hurts. 10/10 experience. Destroys me every time.

[dav-suburbiia]

drdt ch2 ep14 spoilers

compiling some of my thoughts

god . fuck . the way Teruko’s “let go of me” was so soft and apprehensive as if she didn’t want to scare Eden further than she already was . I’M SICKKKK/pos

I still love Hu but yeah her insistence got a little much in this episode . thank you for everything girl but please . please take a break . that desperate smile as she begged Nico to let her defend them… she has some harrowing issues she needs to work out. I can’t wait to learn more!

david chiem secures his number one placement at the “top ten worst bisexuals” list /aff. god. I’m actually insane about him and Teruko’s foils it is everything to me. he wants Teruko to give into her nature so he can use her as a method to prove his worldview right- that every person is born with their permanent “nature” in their blood, and that it’s pointless trying to change that. he wants her to do what she’s always done, because that’s how he gets the advantage on her. that’s how he gets his satisfaction, when there’s nothing left to feasibly criticize about his words because he knows for sure he’s right. all he wants is for him, the man born to lie, to be proven without a shadow of a doubt that he is CORRECT.

but Teruko is not giving him that fulfillment. she knows he has a point, she knows he’s using her word against her, she is visibly affected by this “easy choice” he’s dangling in front of her. yet she doesn’t take his bait. she chooses to make room for a little bit of trust. not just to spite David, but also to make the trial more organized and efficient. she is working to fix her fatal mistake from earlier in the trial. and it’s fucking awesome.

Teruko as a character is just so engaging. she wants to find excuses for not trusting others, yet at the same time she also protects herself with excuses TOWARDS trusting others.

“I’m repaying your favor, and nothing else. That’s why I’ll trust you, just this once.”

she is so conflicted about what she wants. about what she THINKS she wants versus what is BEST. she wants to do the right thing, but she wants to be safe. I hope to see that grow and blossom as DRDT continues, because she is truly one of, if not, THE greatest fangan protagonist I know of

gah, and here comes the Ace culprit accusation. it may not be Huover after all… but, we’ll see where this goes. I think they’ll bring up Ace’s gloves (for the rope burn) and his strength (for getting the rope over the ceiling, which I assume was done with the starch ball…? he did have a chance to get the clothes, because he was a part of the redesign gang) when talking about his possibility as a culprit. either way, I look forward to what happens next!

good shit, DRDTDev. I’m loving everything about this. thank you for all you do . 🙏

[merakiui]

ORZ sleezy mafia Floyd has me in a chokehold!!! I can imagine darling fights tooth and nail at the prospect of dating but meeting the Leech parents causes her to falter — they love her so much! And Jade too ;) (in more ways than one but we’ll never know wink wink) so now darling just goes “what now? Do I lie?” I imagine the Leeches were actually told that they were practically engaged already, so it’s a matter of time before darling relents! The sex is phenomenal and has her coming back anyways!

If not then, with their connections and intelligence, they have other means of persuading ^.^

Darling and Floyd's relationship seesaws between "they're definitely lovers" to "oh, they're just fuck buddies." T_T it's so frustrating for Floyd because he wants to put in the time and commitment, but because you're familiar with his personality you expect him to eventually grow bored and toss you aside and so you only treat him as a temporary pleasure. But then Floyd is waking up early to cook you breakfast in bed when you spend the night at his place, he's giving you his shirts and sweaters because "they're comfy" and definitely not because it's this weird possessive habit he has where you have to smell like him or else, he knows all of your favorite and least favorite things, he can read you better than you read yourself at times, he genuinely wants to know you outside of the bedroom, and he cares so, so much. You're the first long-term and consecutive fling he's ever had, and if this was unfolding in the Coral Sea you'd be a mated pair by the end of your fourth month together. orz

So it's really awkward (for him) when you visit his parents because they assume the two of you are together but haven't yet mated. Floyd's smacking his father with his tail and thinking shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup in a loop when he slyly suggests you and Floyd ought to get busier. Mama Leech isn't any better (or subtle); she really wants grandchildren to love and spoil. Only his parents are capable of flustering the rarely-flustered Floyd. T_T and Jade is just as bad. He makes sure to join in on the lighthearted teasing, and Floyd hates him for it (not for long, though, because when he hears your laughter and sees your pretty smile... oh, he's falling in love all over again).

Going into the meeting, you probably told yourself you'd lie or divert just to make things easier. But the Leech family are so comfortable and safe and sweet! You feel so welcomed and loved and appreciated the minute you're brought into the large, rocky, labyrinthine structure at the bottom of the sea, having taken a transformation potion to exist at such deep, dark depths. If Floyd loved you before, he loves you even more now that you're (temporarily) a mer like him and it's so hard to ignore every mer instinct that tells him the two of you are together in a more intimate sense. He knows that's not how relationships work on the surface, but this isn't the surface and so you can't exactly blame him for feeling even more drawn to you than normal.

By the end of the meeting, you feel so dazed. Floyd rarely talks about his parents, so you didn't have many concrete expectations or assumptions beforehand. But now that you're acquainted with his parents, it makes your relationship feel far more real and official than it ever did. orz but you're still just fuck buddies!!!! You promise yourself that over and over, but it doesn't really stick this time...

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

The importance of setting rules for your fictional universe

I talked about this a little in another recent post in terms of rules for character design (not any like…theory or rules for designing characters, but rather rules for WHY a character looks a certain way) and it made me think more about world building in general.

I’ll be talking mainly about Hellaverse stuff since it’s on my mind, at first because I rewatched HB and now again b/c the HH trailer dropped.

B/c I gotta be honest, I’m pretty sure the world of Hazbin Hotel is gonna fall flat for me the same way that Helluva Boss has.

And as a reminder, I’m not trying to bash Helluva and Hazbin. I enjoyed the recent Hazbin trailer, but I think it’s really important to examine and think about story stuff.

Critique/Review below!

I think one of, if not THE biggest thing keeping HB and HH from feeling like a fully realized world is that we don’t really have any rules or standards for what is considered “normal” in Hell.

And since there’s no baseline for what is considered moral and immoral in hell, characters and their reactions to violence, crime, verbal abuse, body shaming, etc. seem to switch rapidly between sharing an earthly human morality, where everything is mirroring our current day society, and an anything goes kill-steal-maim total anarchy ideology.

To me the HH/HB version of hell comes off like the purge, except actually there ARE some crimes that are off limits. Like murder is okay sometimes and of course there are assassins everywhere that’s just a normal freelance sort of business. But also there’s organized crime and if you steal from a bank you go to hell-jail.

For example, after “Exes and Oh’s”, I had assumed killing other Imps or hellborn must be considered a crime, the way that Crim’s behavior and killing of his underlings was portrayed as completely negative and horrific. But then remembered that Millie having a neighborhood body count due to getting too competitive is mentioned as a joke, and it’s pretty clear that her family thinks of it as more of an embarrassing incident than like…an actually terrible thing to do.

I thought, “Okay, we’ll, maybe it’s just Moxxie’s Mom that was against all the violence being taught to her son.” But apparently she’s from the Wrath ring, the same ring as Millie. So was Moxxie’s Nameless Mom seen as being particularly different or strange to the what a “typical” Wrath Imp is? We can’t know.

Like. We see that imps have romantic relationships and can care deeply about each other and fall in love, just like humans do. In reference to the neighborhood bodycount thing, were Millie’s neighbors not extremely upset with her? Wouldn’t they also grieve their loved ones? Is it sometimes socially acceptable to kill other Imps like in sporting events???

Are the rules for what is seen as socially acceptable for sinners different from what’s socially acceptable for hellborn? Are there different ideas of what is socially acceptable from ring to ring?

I worry that when I ask these questions about a fictional universe, people will think I’m TRYING to dig or look for things to tear that world apart.

I promise I’m thinking about these things so deeply out of curiosity and because I want to engage with the material.

I want to understand and have fun in the fictional universe the writers have invited us all to. But if the rules of your universe are not clear, it can make it much harder for audiences to navigate the story you are trying to tell in that setting.

The HH/HB universe just does NOT have that clarity right now. Since season 2 of HB I’ve noticed that the world building has become more and more inconsistent, and if it’s supposed to now SHARE that world with HH, I really don’t know how they’re going to make their world coherent.

As a final note these are just my opinions. They are not objectively right. If you love Hh and HB and firmly believe the story is clear and the world building makes sense that’s great!! Genuinely, I am happy that the story means a lot to you and you enjoy it. These are just my personal critiques and views.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (VIII)

Chapter 8 : I hope she never learns how to peel oranges

Hi! Here is another chapter! A bit of time spent with friends who have very good advices to give!

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2518

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Oranges

I peel oranges neatly.

The sections come apart cleanly, perfectly in my hands.

When Emily peels an orange, she tears holes in it.

Juice squirts in all directions.

“Kate,” she says, “I don’t know how you do it!”

Emily is my best friend.

I hope she never learns how to peel oranges.

Jean Little

Six months.

You had six months before the wedding.

You had feared that Samantha and Frank would rush through their ceremony as much as they had rushed through their engagement, but a call from Frank was now indicating you the precise date for the festivities. May. A ceremony in Spring.

You had six months to destroy their wedding and make them see reason…

You drank a gulp of your coffee, waiting for your best friend to join you for breakfast. Siobhán had arrived the previous day in Dublin, you had spent most of the afternoon and evening crying in her arms and telling her all about what had happened. Her response was first to insult Frank and his ancestors all the way through five generations, then help you get absolutely trollied, and finally to offer you her help in your devilish plan to get the man you loved back. A real best friend behaviour…

Now, you were waiting for her to wake up, as she was staying at your place for the couple of weeks she was in Dublin. Your coffee was growing cold already in your hands, you winced at the taste but drank it anyway. Not long ago, you thought everything in life was smiling at you, that the sun was everywhere. Now, your luck seemed to have run out, even your coffee didn’t have your back anymore…

“Ouch… my head… God, remind me never to get drunk on cheap tequila again…”

Siobhán let herself fall in the chair next to you in your kitchen, making you chuckle as she rubbed at her temples, trying to cure her hangover. All she managed to do though was to hide her face behind her bright auburn hair.

“I assume you don’t want to eat anything…” you mumbled into your mug, and the choking sound your friend made was answer enough.

“Please, have mercy on me.”

“How come I’m the one with a broken heart and yet you’re the one who got so badly hammered last night?”

“I need to make you feel sorry for me so you’ll feel less miserable about yourself.”

“How generous of you…”

“I know, my altruism shall be my doom, one day…”

She turned to you then, growing more serious.

“Are you feeling better though?” she asked with genuine care and worry. You gave her a weak smile.

“Yeah… you’re helping.”

“Good…”

“I need to get ready. I’m meeting up with Andrew this afternoon. Now that we have dates for the wedding and parts of the preparation, we need to start planning what we’ll do.”

“So… you will really carry on with that plan?”

You frowned at her.

“Of course. Do you have a better idea?”

“No… I don’t. But it still is a bad idea.”

“I know that it sounds kind of crazy but… then again, I don’t have know what else I could do. I don’t have anything left to lose with Frank, so… might as well try, even if it’s madness, even if it fails…”

“…Even if it’s highly unethical.”

“I swear to God, if you start talking philosophy now…”

“I’m a philosopher, that’s what I do…”

“I’m talking to my friend now, not the professor.”

“Right… it still sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Last night you were ready to help!”

“Oh, I will. Even though I’m not sure how I can help. I will, because I don’t see any other way to support my friend in need.”

“Thank you.”

“But’s it’s a terrible idea. Christ, Y/N… Frank is an asshole! He left you after years of relationship, while he was engaged to you, for another woman he proposed to on a whim… he’s a gobshite. Leave him be! Get over him! Have incredible sex with another man!”

You chuckled at that.

“I’m setting you up on Tinder!”

“Absolutely the fuck not! If you do it, I’ll never talk to you again!”

Siobhán threw her phone on the table, defeated.

“And this… Andrew is ready to plan all that with you?”

“It was his idea.”

“Two lunatics for the price of one… Is he handsome at least, that colleague of yours?”

“Siobhán!”

“What?! All I’m saying is that… you are both single now! Both grieving long-term relationships that ended in betrayals… Some good sex with a handsome chap would definitely help you relax…”

“I am not going to sleep with my colleague.”

“You’re asking yourself too many questions.”

“I’m not! You’re just insane! I’m not going to sleep with Andrew!”

“Why? Is he ugly or something?”

“He… that is not the point.”

“Oooooh… so he’s handsome, then? How is he?”

You cleared your throat.

“Tall,” was the first thing that came to your mind, before you silently slapped yourself for answering.

“How much?”

“I don’t know… above 2 meters…”

“What?”

“Yeah like… 6’6’ or something…”

“Wow…”

“Yeah.”

She pulled out her phone while stealing a gulp of your coffee and wincing at the taste of the cold liquid.

“What are you doing?”

But she didn’t answer your question. Instead, she kept on typing on her phone. And then her eyes grew round.

“Wait… you said… Andrew Hozier-Byrne, right?”

“Yes?”

She turned the screen towards you. She had searched for his picture on the university website and was now showing you a picture of Andrew with his long curls let loose on his shoulders, a shy smile adorning his lips, his glasses perched on his nose and wearing a black turtleneck. He was posing in front of a tree on the grounds of the campus.

“That guy?!” she insisted, and you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Him?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s taller than the Empire State Building too?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, he’s very tall,” you nodded.

“You need to ride him.”

“Siobhán!”

“Y/N! He’s gorgeous! He’s single! What are you waiting for?!”

“I don’t want to sleep with Andrew, I want to have Frank back!”

She rolled her eyes, looked at Andrew’s picture again.

“Well… I would like to investigate if all parts of him are… proportionate, for sure…”

“Siobhán!”

“Hey, if you’re not interested in him, I can be!”

It was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Whatever you say…”

She stared at you for a moment, silence filling up the empty space of your kitchen, only disturbed by the rhythmic sound of the rain outside.

“I just want you to be okay,” she spoke in a tender voice, and you nodded.

“I know.”

“Do you really think getting Frank back would make you happy?”

“I do. I have to try.”

She heaved a sigh.

“Alright, then let’s look at that schedule of yours. We need to make a plan. I don’t trust either of you to make it work!”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you’re not petty enough for this. And that guy looks like a sweetheart. A tall, handsome sweetheart. But I am fucking evil when I want to be. So let’s get to work, and fuck up that wedding!”

“So… that’s your new colleague?”

Andrew nodded, suddenly longing for a cigarette, even though he had quitted smoking years before. A side-effect of stress and a growing depressive state. He didn’t yield to his urge though, merely kept on staring at his ceiling as he laid on his sofa, legs dangling over the edge, idly petting Elwood.

“She’s hot,” Alex stated, looking at your picture on his phone. He had googled you and had found your profile on the university website.

“Alex…” Andrew rolled his eyes.

“What? She is!”

“I’m in love with Sam. And I forbid you to sleep with my colleague!”

“Why not? If you’re too depressed to get laid, I certainly am not.”

Andrew glowered at his friend, lounged in his armchair.

“Alex…”

“What?”

“Just… don’t joke about that.”

His friend raised an eyebrow at Andrew, the ghost of a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Alright… back to your stupid plan then?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Not really, no.”

“Then help me.”

Alex grew more serious, his gaze softening as he looked at his best friend.

“Have you already thought that maybe… this was for the best? Maybe you deserved better than Sam?”

Andrew snorted.

“Yeah… very funny…”

“Andy…”

“I love her…”

“But she doesn’t love you enough, Andy. You’ve got to stop thinking that she’s too good for you, she isn’t! You’re a good guy, you’re smart, you’re not too bad-looking…”

“Thanks,” Andrew mumbled without being able to refrain a chuckle.

“I’m serious. You’re not a bad person, you’re not unworthy of being loved for who you are. Sam is grand, but… you could have better than her. You could have someone who cares more deeply about you, who supports you more, who would let you love her the way you want to be loved…”

“Christ… since when have you become such a shrink?”

“Andy…”

Alex heaved sigh, sat straighter in his armchair.

“I just mean that… I know what’s going on in your head. I’ve known you long enough to know what you’re doing right now. And it’s not helpful. It’s not helpful, and it’s actually dragging you down. Sam is grand, for many reasons. But perhaps you were simply not meant for each other. You could fall in love again, you could have someone better, someone who will love you better than she did…”

“She did love me!”

“I know she did. But she also pushed you away time and time again. She never showed up for your accomplishments, she never tried to support your career as a poet, she never came to one of our gigs…”

“She’s not interested in poetry or music.”

“And I hate cinnamon rolls, but I still ate them when Charlie made them for me.”

“So… I should move on as successfully as you’ve moved on from your ex, whom you haven’t been able to forget after two full years?”

He saw Alex clenching his jaw, his gaze saddening. Guilt came to gnaw at Andrew’s heart the second his words passed his lips.

“Sorry… that was uncalled for. I’m just… I can’t move on. I don’t want to move on. I don’t want better or worse than Sam, I want Sam.”

Alex heaved a sigh.

“Alright, so what’s the plan?”

“Y/N and I are going to work together to make Frank and Sam see that they’re acting stupid, bring them back to their senses.”

“Perhaps they’re not acting crazy…”

“They’re engaged! After one month together?!”

“Yeah… that does sound quick.”

“I know that… Sam and I were going through a bit of a rough patch. I know that we were drifting apart a little when she left. But we weren’t strangers to each other either. We weren’t… it wasn’t that bad. I still loved her, we were still seeing each other, we were still communicating and reaching out and… I didn’t think it was too bad. I was tired… I was frustrated with my writing…”

“Your writing?” Alex interrupted his friend with a frown.

Elwood shifted from his spot on the floor, getting up to rest his head directly on Andrew’s stomach. He looked at him with a soft black stare that made Andrew’s heart melt, and he resumed petting his dog’s head.

“I haven’t been able to write a single line in six months.”

“Wow… that’s… long. Especially for you.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t write a single verse.”

“What does Caroline say about this?”

“She’s a very understanding agent, luckily. She’s not pressuring me yet. She’s giving me time and space.”

“So, you didn’t tell her it was a complete drought, but just a slow episode.”

“Of course, I’m not suicidal… yet.”

They exchanged a smile, but there was sadness in both of their gestures.

“I don’t know why I can’t write anymore. And it scares the shit out of me, Alex. What if I can’t be a poet anymore? How am I supposed to say what I need to express then? Will it come back? I couldn’t be a musician, what if I can’t be an artist at all?”

“No, Andy, you’re not a fraud, stop it,” Alex interrupted his friend, knowing where this conversation was heading. “And you didn’t become a musician because you chose not to have the lifestyle that went with it, because you chose to study and write instead, and be there for your family when they needed you. You had the talent for it, though. You still have. I’ll hire you if you want to finally drop out of college!”

Andrew laughed at that, brought back to those college days when he had met Alex, when he had hesitated to quit studying to get a proper chance at singing. But instead of accepting some studio time, he attended his exams, passed his classes, changed his major the next year to head towards literature and poetry. And music remained a passion, a hobby, while words became his life…

“How is your band doing, by the way?” he changed the subject, feeling too vulnerable and guiding the conversation on his friend instead to release the tension that was making his body ache. Elwood could feel it, the way Andrew was in pain, he was rubbing his snout against his human’s stomach.

“Good. We’re doing a few festivals, we have some gigs planned over the next couple of months, mostly around Cork.”

“That’s nice.”

“You could come.”

“And miss torturing my students with essays?! Nah…”

“You could avoid the grading.”

“That is a strong argument in your favour.”

“But don’t drag the conversation away from the crisis at hand!” Alex admonished his friend. “What is the plan then? About Sam?”

“We have the date of the wedding, and Frank and Sam have reached out to Y/N and I to get some help for like… dresses, cakes, planning stuff… Sam asked me to sing.”

Alex let out a wry, astonished chuckle.

“So, the woman doesn’t give two shites about your passion for music and poetry, but the second she needs a musician she comes running?”

Andrew glowered at his friend, but he couldn’t deny his words. He had thought them first, as soon as Sam had asked him to sing. She had never cared about his artistic endeavours, never read his poetry, even though he wrote about her; never gone to see him play, even when they were young. Although, it wasn’t quite true. She had come once, at the very beginning of their relationship. She thought he had talent. She was bored though, even if she tried to hide it. Andrew had not asked her to come again, had merely told her that she was always welcome to any of their gigs, but she never offered to go see him again.

And it was such a cruel demand too, so insensitive, it didn’t sound like her. Maybe her own excitement was blinding her, making her selfish. Whatever it was, Andrew could feel tears rising at the mere thought. Elwood moved to rub his head all over Andrew’s chest.

“Anyway, we’ve got to plan our next move.”

“Good luck with that…” Andrew nodded. He reckoned he would need luck, alright…