#I’ll be honest this gave me joy

[bearlytolerant]

I’m just really glad my Shepard can do her pull-ups no matter what universe she’s in.

[billythesimp]

Could I request headcanons for ZZZ Billy, Wise, and Lycaon reacting to his shy gn crush confessing to him please?

Another late-night writing session, another cilent.

[sips my coffee]

Eh- too much sugar... good.

Heartfelt Confessions

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

I may have done this a little wrong, but I wrote it in the sense of that they boys where enamored with the gn!insert. That they had a crush on them yet the insert confessed to them. I hope I got that right!

Billy / Wise / Lycaon x Shy-Gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: none?

✦ I’ll be honest, this would probably go over his head at first. Billy is familiar with their mannerisms and is always patient with them. After all, he just adores how they stumble over their worlds when they wish to comment on anything their cute mind is thinking over. So Billy is just standing there, looking at them as they gather their thoughts and admit their growing affects to them. Yet he’s too focused on the dewy glaze over their eyes when they shyly look up at him, the subtle pout on their lips where he could only dream to feel on his face-plates.

✦  But after some moments of quiet and Billy finally registering what it is they said, he’s baffled and exclaiming why someone so amazing- a beacon of joy and pure innocence, a being that anyone would be more than blessed to have been in the presence of when they flash their most radiant smile- would ever like the likes of him! Believe me, if his long pause of silence from before startled them nervous, his own sudden confession made them embarrassed as he’s practically screaming how amazing they are.

✦ But they assure him that they’ve always admired and shortly grew to love his flaws and perfections. That he made them feel safe and how he made them laugh when times grew grim, that he is always too patient and understanding and that no matter what he was told, they’d only see the real him. The person who cheers up a friend, a person who is passionate about the interests of his colleague, a person who is strong and steps up for others who can’t themselves. Billy could feel his gears and joints ache in the need to collapse as their words come out confident and true, wanting to be a mere puddle beneath their feet. Needless to say, he happily accepted after making another scene which only made them more embarrassed.

✦ His crush has been working part-time at the store with them, always helping them out with returns and promotional materials. So when Belle left to run some errands and it was just them two, Wise was shocked at first when they asked to speak with him in private. So in the staff room, they rushed out their confession that Wise was worried that they could have bitten their tongue and tried to calm them down.

✦ He holds their arms gently and tells them that it’s alright and how he’s nothing but happy to hear this. He’ll admit, he’s known about their affections for a while after all he’s Wise, cunning and sharp with attention to details. That and while he won’t admit it, Belle has at times helped him figure out if they really do like him. The teasing she and Eous gave him, if word got out to you he’d probably die there and now. Maybe he should have gone through Fairy and see to it that any camera recording of the incident be deleted.

✦ Seeing as he all accepted their confess, they smile happily before he pulls them into a tight hug, heart beating as he finally could do all the things he wanted now that they knew he liked them- no, cherished their affect and love. He couldn’t wait to bombard them with the soft touches, lingering kisses and teasing whispers that he has held back out of respect and belief that they were nothing more than just friends, co-workers, allies. That is, if they would be mentally ready as he notices how fidgety and flushed they became at the simple gesture of affection. Yeah, he’ll go slow with them for sure, but he was nothing but excited.

✦ Lycaon cares dearly for his proxy and always attempts to keep things professional between the two. However, it proves difficult when they always depend on them when working together, always seeking him out and giving him the time of day while others probably wouldn’t. He holds them closely to his heart, so anytime they call on him, he’s at attention and can’t help but have to hold back the need to kneel before them and pledge loyalty there. Which would have made them more nervous and flushed when they ask about what they are.

✦ Of course, they’ve noticed his attention to detail in their mannerism and how he’s always stepping up to help them should they grow to shy to order or help solve their problem they thought dumb and meaningless. They are scared of ruining this little bond of theirs, but Von could only assure them that their feelings are true, that he would be an idiot should he not accept their confession as he too has nothing but love filled for them. He compromised that they’ll still hold a professional work relationship but in private, he’d want nothing more than to be theirs.

✦ The way they blush and start fidgeting with a strand of hair, he hadn’t noticed how his tail swayed happily despite the calm and clear demeanor he displayed. The mere motion made them only awe at how cute he was, taking his gloved hand as he lifted it towards his muzzle. The lightest of kisses on the back of their hand, skin warmed at the touch as he only stares with those dark red eyes of his. Piercing as to say they were his as he is theirs, a bond stronger than human- one of the beast and their tamer.

[shootingstarwritings]

Body a Day #8: Football

Coach Bryce could feel his hair turning gray as he thought about the team’s current dilemma. “It’s a real shitshow,” he sighed, looking over to gauge the reaction of his beautiful coworker, Sharon Fletcher; she was a renowed researcher at the university and the target of the coach’s heart.

Ever since the two of them had met, Coach Bryce had tried to ask her out for some kind of date, but she was either oblivious or uninterested. However, such a cold reaction only served to fuel Coach Bryce’s passion.

Today, Sharon was once again uncaring to Coach Bryce’s bemoaning. She simply unzipped her lunch-bag and pulled out her meal. Bryce spoke again, voice just a tiny bit louder so she could definitely hear, “All of my players, suspended. Can you believe it?”

Finally, Sharon’s gaze met the coach’s. “All of them? Oh wow, I knew that they had done something wrong in that party last week, but I had no idea it was something of that magnitude.”

“Yeah, well… can’t say they don’t deserve it. But we’ve got a game coming up, so we’re gonna have to just concede it,” said Coach Bryce. He inwardly smiled to himself as he saw the normally stoic Sharon’s expression squeeze into a look of genuine sympathy. At least he had that small comfort in such turbulent times.

However, Sharon’s expression quickly turned into something akin to a predatory grin. A shiver went down the coach’s spine as she began to titter. “Tell me something, Coach Bryce,” she said, leaning in to whisper into his ear. “Can I trust you to keep a secret…? And also sign an NDA beforehand? I think I have a solution that’ll make both you and the Dean happy.

Coach Bryce, neck sweaty and goosebumps running down his arms, just said, “I-I’ll do whatever you want.”

~o~

The Delphi Project was the university’s pride and joy. It was also the most highly-guarded secret the university had. “Delphi was where Apollo’s oracle rested and delivered her visions of the future. It was believed to have been the center of the world by the Ancient Greeks, and…” Sharon continued the history lesson, but Coach Bryce soon stopped listening. Instead, he fumbled around with the buttons of the uncomfortable lab coat he had been given prior to entering. Not only that but the goggles were annoying as well.

“Please do not remove that,” said Sharon with a tight tone and a forced smile. “Lab policies, as I’m sure you’re aware. Right, coach?” Embarrassed, Coach Bryce gave a grunt of affirmation, and Sharon continued the tour. She continued to speak some nonsense or another before stopping in front of a large machine with two pods that resembled tanning booths connected to it. “The Delphi Project concerns itself primarily with human consciousness. Essentially, it is the next step to reaching the digitization and transfer of ‘the soul.’ Some of us here even believe that this is how humanity can reach this place called ‘Paradise,’ or ‘Nirvana.’”

“Oh yeah, heard of their music once or twice," said Coach Bryce, enthusiastic now that he could participate in the discussion. "Dunno if it’s my cup o’ Joe, to be honest, but to each their own!” he said with boisterous laughter.

Sharon’s smile seemed to grow even tighter and her voice became the tiniest bit more strained as she spoke. “Right. Well, as I was saying, the purpose of this machine is the transfer of consciousness. While we have been able to digitize and transfer the human consciousness—the soul, as some would call it—we haven’t been able to find any sort of machine with the space large enough to store it. Nothing… except for another human vessel.”

In other words, the only thing that could be transferred is one person to another. It took a few more explanations for Coach Bryce to understand that, but he got the basic idea. Once he understood that, he could guess what was Sharon’s plan.

“So what you want to do is transfer other people into the bodies of my team, so technically we can still play while still punishing the knuckleheads.” Technical or scientific knowledge wasn’t his forte, but his mind was still crafty and strategic. Once he understood all the pieces on the table, he could put them all together quickly. “Will the Dean even agree to this? Seems… kinda risky. And will my players be okay once this is all over?”

Sharon smile sweetly and assured him that all tests have shown that both parties have suffered no side-effects from the experiments they’ve done. “However, if there is even a single dissenting voice, we will not go through with the experiment. That last thing we would want to do is carry this out without anyone’s explicit consent. We are strict with ethics here. As for the Dean, I believe I can convince her. Delphi is our pride and joy, even if we can’t be out and proud about it. Of course, there is one more caveat to this whole thing you must agree to, coach.”

~o~

To say that the players were shocked and horrified would be an understatement. Coach Bryce gathered them all in the locker room to break the news, which only made their voices even more irritating as they echoed in the small room. Some of the players cried foul, others argued that his was invasive to their rights, while a few let out a few swears about letting a bunch of losers parade around in their bodies. “All right, that’s enough!” Coach Bryce shouted. “I know it’s a weird prospect, but if we want even the slightest chance of making play-offs, we can’t afford to forfeit this next game.”

As always, it was easy for the coach to rile up his players. None of them dared to argue when Coach Bryce brought up the incident that put them in this Catch-22. “And, if I’m being honest… I’ll be in the same boat as y’all,” he said, looking down to avoid his team’s shocked looks as he recounted what Sharon had told him.

“Day of the game, I’ll have to borrow your body in order to properly observe the test subjects during our most important trial run. Don’t worry, you’ll only lose your body for a weekend, at most,” Sharon had said with a most bewitching smile.

Thinking about her tone and voice as she said all of that, Coach Bryce couldn’t help but grow the slightest bit aroused. He hoped that none of his players could see how flushed he was recalling that night. Of course, he also omitted that last part—there was no need for the team to know how uneven the whole deal actually was.

“Even after all of this, we’re still a team!” Coach Bryce suddenly cried out. Not only did he need to convince those last few fence-sitters, but he also needed to distract himself before he got hard in front of all the players. He hadn’t been able to get off properly ever since a messy break-up with his former girlfriend, so Sharon’s siren voice kept bouncing around his skull.

A nice speech would be a good distraction for now. He continued to bellow out platitudes about staying together and how they were all in one boat at the end of the day. “So, please consider. This may be our chance to not throw away everything we’ve worked all semester for. Think about it. Later… we’ll put it to a vote. If we come to a unanimous vote, we’ll go through with it. So if anyone feels uncomfortable, we’ll decline and throw the match.” He retreated back to his office and took a deep breath. Already, there was a plan forming in his head.

When Coach Bryce returned to take the vote, he made sure that the votes could not be anonymous. Just by glancing at the expressions on the players’ faces, he could tell that the majority was willing to go through with it, but there were a few sparse dissenters spread throughout the crowd. However, when he asked, “All in favor?” everyone raised their hands. The peer pressure assured that their fate was sealed. Coach Bryce nodded and told the team that he’d email them Sharon’s instructions.

Later that night, Coach Bryce jerked himself off as he imagined the idea of Sharon being inside of him.

~o~

Game night came and went, and nobody in the audience nor the opposing team suspected any foul play. All the players performed as well as they usually did, baring a minor hiccup or two. The only anomaly that anyone noticed was Coach Bryce, usually watching with a red-face and barking orders at the team, was perfectly stone-faced the entire match, even when the team just barely clutched out a win.

Later, Dr. Sharon Fletcher looked down Bryce’s thick, hairy hands. Due to the various tests they’ve run with Delphi, being a male wasn’t new to her, but she was still surprised by just how masculine the coach was. “Ah, I got distracted again,” she said to herself as she returned to the report on her laptop. It was difficult to type at the speeds she was comfortable with, but that was the price to pay for valuable data at such a close distance.

“Overall, subjects found themselves quickly adapting to their new forms, which supports to the hypothesis that muscle memory is one of the most important factors during learning. It’s possible that…” Coach Bryce’s thick, masculine fingers stopped and stared at the screen. It was one of Sharon’s most frustrating part of being a scientist. She loved getting her hands on interesting data and interpreting it, but it was when she had to stop and write down her thoughts that she found herself unable to commit for long periods of time. “This will revolutionize the field of learning, but…” She let out a sigh before packing up her laptop to leave. Coach Bryce’s office, with all of its football posters, brights flags, and pictures was not the ideal environment to sit down and type out her reports. She would continue in the library tomorrow. With that settled, she left the office and began the trek to her home for the weekend.

Just before Sharon transferred into Bryce’s body, he had given her a copy of the key to his apartment. “It’d be odd if they saw my entering and leaving your home,” he had told her. Well, he had elaborated on the point for quite a while, Sharon hadn’t been interested in his hearing his logic. Her thoughts then and even now were, Why bother caring about who sees you spending time with you? It was nothing to do with how well you can do your job.

Either way, Sharon took the bus to and allowed his muscular legs to carry her to Bryce’s apartment. She thought about it as another opportunity to further her research, but there was something so fascinating about just moving about with Coach Bryce. His natural, mature gait was addicting. Just for research’s sake (her own fun), she continued to walk around the hallways and even up the stairs, forgoing the elevator. Even after climbing several stories, she didn’t even feel the least bit tired. In her old body, she would’ve been halfway dead and anemic by the time she reached Bryce’s apartment, but now she was hardly out of breath. Fascinating, she thought to herself, mistaking her lust for curiosity.

Without thinking, Sharon made her way to Bryce’s apartment and began to shed off his clothes until her borrowed body was clad in nothing but a shirt and a pair of boxers. Oh, huh… I hadn’t meant to take off so much of his clothes, she thought to herself, but her body had moved without her knowledge. Still, Sharon saw no reason to not allow it to continue. It was better to allow the body to continue its natural habits.

It was for that reason that, after drawing a bath, Sharon dipped Coach Bryce’s into the bathtub and relaxed his sore muscles. “Phew… oh, this feels so nice,” said Sharon. After such a long day of experiment, research, and overworking herself, it was nice to relax in a bath. If she could, she would spend all day in a bath and enjoy this nice, burly body. She raised his arms and rested them behind his head, apparently a natural position for the coach to be in with a bath. With soap and a loofah sponge, Sharon explored Bryce’s body. His personality wasn’t anything special, but she enjoyed the way that his body moved whenever he worked out in the gym or in the field outside in the lawn. The sweat dripping from his bearded chin was nice. Usually, Sharon wasn’t really interested in dating men, but their bodies were nice to look at.

And, as she groped and massaged various parts of Bryce’s body, Sharon realized just how nice it was to touch them like this. “Ohh… ohh…! Oh my god!” Somehow, this was the most sensitive body she had ever transferred into. Was the coach simply that much more sensitive than the other hosts, or was the process itself magnifying the sensitivity to touch? Sharon’s scientific mind was going on overdrive while just about every part of her was busy indulging in Coach Bryce’s appealing and overly sexual body. “C-Coach Bryce, y-you’re so… ngh… ahh…!” The moans that escaped his lips drove Sharon insane as well. It became a feedback loop: Sharon, hoping to draw out more data and more moans from Coach Bryce groped his body, which only drew out more automatic moans from her borrowed lungs.

It was also the strength and the sheer amount of command that Sharon had. The thick, almost sausage-like, fingers and powerful core and moved at her command. Coach Bryce was like a glove for her to put on, nothing more. The power behind it was intoxicated. Each muscle obeyed Sharon, and it was because she deserved it.

Coach Bryce’s body stiffened as it felt the inevitable happen. The waves of pleasure that nearly threaten to shatter her very mind. Sharon grit her borrowed teeth, groans of guttural and masculine ecstasy only just barely restrained for the first few torrents of cum that launched high into the air. However, Sharon could not contain it for much longer. She tilted her head back, tongue sticking out as Coach Bryce’s hips thrust on their own as the last of the world-shattering climax erupted through the jiggling, hairy frame.

This is the first time I’ve ever masturbated with such intensity, Sharon thought to herself. She had explored the other test subjects—other professors and coaches at the univerity—and Coach Bryce was definitely her favorite. She had to test out just how and why his body was so sensitive. Yes, she needed more tests. She needed to take over the bodies of all her previous test subjects and continue to explore and compare the pleasure that came from each of them. Only then would her hunger for pleasure and data—two things that were basically the same to her—would be satiated.

Of course, that should be easy to accomplish. Just about every person in campus owes me a favor, and the Dean will certainly enjoy this delicious data—especially if I record it all for her. I wonder how much freedom I can have if I offer to give the Dean such an opportunity? I’m sure she’ll love it now that we know it’s perfectly safe.

Sharon sighed and sank even further into the warm, now slightly milkier, water. Her new muscles certainly seemed to enjoy the sensation. Now all she had to do was to just enjoy the weekend in the perfect body for it.

[cinnbar-bun]

One Happy Hawk (Mihawk x Reader)

Summary: After getting hit with the Happy-Happy Fruit during a fight, Mihawk returns home in a rather… peculiar fashion.

Rating: SFW /Kinda Crack

Note: Takes place during the timeskip, is crackish, and features Perona, Zoro, and a cameo from Crocodile. Reader and Mihawk are married. Reader is GN.

Word Count: ~1.7k

A/n: Hey besties, sorry, my appendix burst a few days ago and I was in the hospital! I’ll do my best to finish some requests while I recover!

Mihawk getting caught off guard was one thing but now, after Mihawk slain his attacker and was resting at home, you couldn’t tell if this new behavior of his was unnerving or welcome.

“Wow, my house is so dark! It needs some light, right?” Mihawk asked loudly, before he opened the window curtains he almost always refused to open. You, Perona, and Zoro gawked as Mihawk pranced happily around the room, opening the many windows and letting the light shine in.

He sighed happily at his work and widely smiled to all of you. “My, isn’t this lovely? The sun is so beautiful.”

You three gasped at his innocent and sweet expression that seemed to glow brighter than the sun itself.

“I-I need to take a photo-“ you quickly mumbled. Perona nodded while Zoro looked as if he’d faint.

“What? Is something wrong?” Mihawk asked, before he made his way to you and felt your forehead. “Oh, darling, are you alright? Are you sick at all?”

You shake your head and Mihawk’s face softens. “Good. Yes, very good.”

“Uh, Mihawk?!” Perona yelled. “Why are you like this?!”

Mihawk gave a confused look. “Like what?”

“Like…. Like that!!” She pointed her finger at him, unsure of where to begin. Mihawk hummed as he massaged his beard.

“Hm, I’m not sure what you mean. Aren’t I always like this? You three always bring me such joy. I just wish to change things up today,” Mihawk explained.

Zoro leaned against a wall, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is going on?!” He cried, before he handed Mihawk a sword. “Come on! Fight me!”

“Fight you? Why would I do that? That could cause serious harm to us,” Mihawk gasped. If Zoro wasn’t clinging to Perona, he may have just fainted on the spot.

“I don’t want to hear anymore of this. (Y/n), he’s your husband, please do something,” Zoro mumbled despondently.

“What should I do?! I don’t know what to do!” You frantically answered.

“Ah! I got an idea! Maybe I can sicc my Hollows onto him! That should make him grumpy again!” Perona snapped her fingers.

“Great idea!” You and Zoro said at once. Perona then turned to Mihawk and summoned a Negative Hollow to pass through Mihawk. Mihawk simply watched curiously as the Hollow went through him, unfazed.

“Did it work…?” Perona whispered, before her answer came in the form of Mihawk laughing and clapping.

“Great job, Perona! Your Hollows are always such a treat to witness! It even tickled a little!” Mihawk stated proudly to Perona.

Perona screamed at Mihawk’s face and wrapped herself around you like a koala.

“Make him stop! Make it stop!” She wailed. “Go back! Go back!”

“Perona! I’m gonna fall!” You wobble, while Perona clung to you tighter.

“Waaaaaah! I thought he’d be nicer if he was happier but I hate itttttt! Turn him back, (Y/n)!” Perona ignored your comment, sobbing loudly. You sighed and placed Perona down before going to your husband.

“Darling, why don’t we go rest and-“

“Oh my!” Mihawk’s cheeks turned red as his eyes sparkled excitedly. He grabbed your hands and held them in his. “You wish to take a nap together? What an amazing idea, my love!”

The blush on his face is too cute to resist, and you can’t help but feel your face heating up at his undivided attention. Before you can say anything else, Mihawk tilts your chin up and gazes into your eyes dreamily.

“My love, have I ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are?”

“H-huh?” You reply, shocked at his honest compliment. Not that he never complimented you- he did- he was just usually more subtle about it.

“Yes, your eyes lead me astray every day. I wish to melt into them. I wish to look into your eyes forever and never be parted from you. I sometimes wonder if you are even real with how beautiful and ethereal you are. But when I look into your precious eyes, I know for certain that you are real, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life,” he stated earnestly, a gentle smile on his face.

You giggle at his proclamation of love and twirl your hair with your finger.

“On second thought, maybe we should keep him like this,” you grin.

“No way!!” Perona and Zoro shout in unison. You huff and pout, before Mihawk strokes your head.

“My love, please do not frown. I did promise that I would never let you be unhappy again.”

You perk back into a smile and nod. “Yes, you did!”

“Ah, there’s that smile I love so much!”

You two hold hands and smile in such a disgustingly cute way that Zoro and Perona gag.

“Great. Now (Y/n)’s fallen into his charms,” Perona groaned.

“We have to do something. I can’t become the greatest swordsman if this is how Mihawk quits,” Zoro pinched his forehead.

“New plan!” Perona pounded her hand in determination. “We make him remember how grumpy he is!”

Zoro nodded, eager to get his teacher back to normal.

“Hey, Mihawk!” Perona shouted to get his attention.

“Yes, Perona?” Mihawk replied, curious about what she wished to say.

Perona snickers and pulls out two coats, his usual black and red one, and the pink one she designed for him in an attempt to be ‘cute’. “Which one do you like more?”

Mihawk looked deep in thought. “The pink one. It’s clear that you put so much love and effort into tailoring it for me. And it even matches your outfit!”

Perona’s face shrivels up as Mihawk decides to wear the pink coat. “Yes, just splendid! You really have outdone yourself Perona! How do I look?”

You and Perona clamp a hand over your mouth as your eyes water at the adorable coat on a smiling Mihawk.

“So… cute…” you two mumble.

“Would you two knuckleheads think straight for a moment?! He’s obviously not himself! We have to fix him, not play dress up with him!”

“Now, now, Zoro,” Mihawk wags his finger. “There’s no need to yell. (Y/n) and Perona just wished to compliment me on my new outfit. I think it’s a great-“

Before Mihawk can finish, his Den Den Mushi begins to ring and he answers it quickly.

“Hello? Ah, Sir Crocodile! How wonderful it is to hear your voice!”

You and Perona snapped out of your thoughts as Zoro’s eyes widened in horror.

“Shit! They’re coming today for a meeting!” You whisper-shout as you remember the important meeting Mihawk told you about. “Quick, we can’t have them think anything is wrong!”

Zoro and Perona nod and run around the room, closing the windows again and redecorating so the place looks just as cold as before. Mihawk raises a brow as you swipe his Den Den Mushi and laugh nervously.

“Good morning, Sir Crocodile! I’m so sorry to tell you this, but it seems like my poor Mihawk has come down with a nasty cold!” You try your best to sound worried in hopes Crocodile will cancel the meeting.

“But darling, I’m perfectly-“ Mihawk tries to argue, before Zoro and Perona cover his mouth.

“He… is sick? Mihawk?” Crocodile asks, unimpressed and not believing a word you say.

“Mhm! He’s just had the nastiest cough you could ever imagine!” You glance at Zoro and he begins to cough loudly. “Can't you hear him? He’s been like that all day!”

“Right. And that is why he sounded so chipper to greet me just now?”

“Oh, the medicine the doctor’s gave him makes him rather… uh… loopy! Yes! He’s been a bit out of it!”

“Mihawk,” Crocodile sternly says, and Mihawk breaks free from Zoro and Perona’s grip.

“Yes, Crocodile?” Mihawk replies.

“Are you truly sick?”

Mihawk laughs loudly. “Oh no, my friend! I’m not sure why my love is saying such things to you! I’m excited to have you over, in fact!”

You, Perona, and Zoro are frozen in shock as it is silent on the other end of the line.

“Dear lord,” Crocodile states, stunned at what he just heard. “It’s alright. We can have the meeting another time.”

“What? But why, Crocodile? I’m completely fine!”

“No I… I think your partner is correct. You are very sick. You should lie down.”

“I don’t need to do that! I’m absolutely okay! I was even going to make you my famous cookies for the meeting!” Mihawk shouts, hoping Crocodile changes his mind.

“Goodbye, Mihawk,” Crocodile quickly says before he disconnects the call. Mihawk pouts sadly as he holds onto his Den Den Mushi.

“Aw… he’s not coming today anymore,” Mihawk sighs. You pat your husband on the shoulder to soothe him.

“It’s alright, my love. You two can have that meeting another time!”

“You’re right! And I’ll absolutely impress him with those cookies! In fact, I’ll go make some cookies right now!” Mihawk shouts as he runs to the kitchen.

“How long is this thing supposed to last?” Perona whines. Zoro waves his hand and begins to walk towards the staircase. “I saw nothing. Today was just a bad dream.”

You massage your temples as you follow your husband to the kitchen, praying for this “condition” to pass soon.

Bonus:

“Ugh, my head is killing me…” Mihawk groans. He winces as he notices the light pouring through his open windows. He registers a heavy weight around his arm as he notices you’re sleeping peacefully beside him. A warm feeling builds up in his chest before he looks down to see he’s wearing… pink pajamas with red and black ribbons on them.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes again. It is not just a dream, but in fact, reality. He is wearing those pajamas that Perona made him. He sighs and closes his eyes.

“I’ll deal with this in about an hour,” he mumbles to himself, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you in closer.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just the Two of Us: Table for Two

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you meet someone you never expect at the grocery store.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“It’s not exactly coffee,” Steve says as he sits across from you, setting down a cup before you. “Pumpkin cream, special delivery.” 

“Oh, sorry, I guess I should’ve mentioned. I don’t do much caffeine. It makes me jittery,” you explain. 

“That’s fine. I don’t have it very often. Don’t really need it...” he flicks the side of his own cup. “The serum, you know.” 

“Serum...” you say. 

“Oh, uh, it was the stuff they gave me to make me the way I am,” he sits back, pressing his palm against the cup. 

“Right, right, sorry. I guess I forgot.” 

“Forgot?” He echoes. 

“Yeah, I mean, just that... I mean yeah, you’re Captain America but I just... I guess...” you can’t quite organize your thoughts. “Also, you’re Steve, the guy who is sworn enemies with self-checkout machines.” 

“Wow, we’re already joking about that?” His brows arch. 

“No, no, I’m not joking,” you say with a sly bat of your lashes. 

“Huh, you’re not as nice as you look, are you?” He clucks. 

“I have been taught to respect my elders so I’ll just agree,” you say. 

He stares at you and for a moment, you think you’ve gone too far. His blue eyes stick to you, pale yet vibrant, and his jaw is chiseled and perfect. You gulp. 

He laughs before you can apologise, He shakes his head, “you got me. If you hadn’t swooped in to help this geriatric, I’d still be fighting that scanner.” 

“Well, I got a leg up. I used to stand behind one of those daily. I’m sure if I was given a shield, I couldn’t do much with it,” you grin. 

You lift your cup and blow over it, taking a sip of the cream. Mm. The spices aren’t too strong or anything. 

“Maybe not but there’s all sorts of ways to save people. To help them,” he says. 

“I guess,” you agree and look around. “This place is nice. You been here before?” 

“Nope. Gotta be honest, I try to keep to myself. Public places aren’t exactly--” 

“Oh my god, I knew it!” A shrill squawk makes you flinch. A girl appears in a pair of thick-framed glasses like cat eyes, tugging along another by her wrist. They look about your age but colourful. She sports a rainbow jacket as her friend wears a polka dot dress. Their accessories are all novelties from various nostalgic sci-fi shows. 

“Captain,” the woman salutes. She is an adult after all, yet you feel she’s a bit childish in the way she stands agog of the man across from you. 

“Hi,” the other waves shyly. 

You hide behind your cup. You feel like an intruder on the moment. And you can tell by the tic in Steve’s cheek that he’s uncomfortable. Still, he turns to them and smiles. 

“Hello, how are you?” He asks. 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” the girl in the rainbow jacket fans herself, “we’re like your biggest fans. I can’t believe you’re here.” 

The other one giggles. 

“Would you like me to sign something--” 

“Can we get a picture? She blusters over him.  

He keeps his picturesque smile and nods. He stands as the girl looks at you, “hey, you, do you wanna like, take our photo?” 

You blanch but get up. Steve glances at you with a glint of concern, “you don’t have to--” 

“I don’t mind,” you assure him as she hands over her cell. “Everyone squeeze in.” 

You step away from the table and aim the lens at the them. The unicorn horn on the phone case makes it difficult to angle. Steve stands between them as they flutter with joy. 

“Now say cheese,” you say. You click a few frames and lower the phone, “here, think I got some good ones.” 

You give the woman back her phone and she greedily checks the pictures. She squeals and shows the other. Steve sits as you go to join him at the table. 

“So, like, are you dating her?” The rainbow-adorned woman bats her eyes behind her lenses. “Because I heard you were with Sharon Carter and you two broke up on your last mission.” 

“Jamie,” the other girl whispers. 

“Sharon’s a work colleague. And a professional,” Steve insists, kind but blunt. “You two have a great day. It was nice to meet you.” 

“I don’t believe you,” she insists. 

He dips his chin and shrugs, “well, then I’m sure I can’t say much to convince you.” 

“So, you were dating,” she accuses. 

“Excuse me,” you intone. “Hi,” you give a small wave from your side of the table, “I’m not trying to be rude but we were in the middle of a conversation.” 

Steve says your name quietly, “you don’t gotta--” 

The girl raises her phone and snaps a picture of you before you can say anything else. Then she takes a step back and takes one of both of you. You frown as Steve stands. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” 

“No one ever told me you were an asshole,” she sneers. “And a liar. I’m going to put this all over Tiktok. And Insta.” 

Your heart races as you stare at her phone case. That was so strange and uncalled for. “Can you please delete that?” 

Your voice is drowned out by her rant about her socials. Steve crosses his arms, “I’m telling you to leave, right now.” 

“Oh, Captain, what are you going to do?” She sticks her tongue out. 

“Please delete it,” you say again, still unheard. 

“Now,” he growls. 

The girl’s taunting smirk falls from her lips. Her friend yanks on her arm and they both flee. You stare after them, mortified. You hide behind your hands as you measure your breaths. It’s fine. A long shot. You’re just paranoid. 

“You okay? I’m so sorry. I shoulda warned you,” he says. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just... I don’t really... go online. Like I don’t share my picture,” you lower your hands slowly. “She didn’t even ask.” 

“I’m sure she has all of five followers,” he scoffs, “hey,” he reaches across the table. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t--” you exhale and rein in your nerves. “That happen a lot?” 

He shrugs. 

“Wow. I couldn’t do that. I already knew you were brave but that is a lot. And you were so nice, despite that attitude,” you shake your head. Suddenly you realise why he was so uptight when you recognised him earlier. 

“Thanks for trying to help,” he says, “it’s a habit of yours, isn’t it?” 

“Big help I was,” you tut. 

“Well, if you weren’t here, it would’ve been awful but it’s not so bad.” He smiles as he considers you, “you told them to go away so nicely and you didn’t have to.” 

“Yeah, I’m not one for confrontation but that was pretty intense.” You say. 

“I should keep you around,” he chirps. “Like a bodyguard or something.” 

You laugh, “okay, now you’re making fun of me.” 

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 9

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

~~~

Author’s Note: Aaand it’s finally done! I always have trouble wrapping up a story, and this one was no exception… but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

This will be posted at AO3 at some point. (In fact, if I write more BG3 fics I’ll probably post it on AO3 instead of Tumblr, as usual. And I do have a few ideas actually…👀)

Thank you all for the likes, reblogs, and comments <3 it has definitely helped me keep going!

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mildish?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, finally a happy ending for these two knuckleheads

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only…now you do.

To begin with, you didn’t handle it well. You tried moving on, and that seemed to work. At least you told yourself that it did.

Then something happened that gave you hope. Perhaps he feels something for you too, after all?

~~~

You find him on the path close to the archway, in almost the same spot where you talked to Bex mere days ago. You take a moment to study him from afar. It’s hard to be sure when there’s nothing but the light from the moon illuminating him, but you think his shoulders look tense. Is this your doing?

You wish you could hug him, offer to him relax in your arms.

“I’m afraid your personal blood bank will be closed for a while,” you joke as you walk closer, hoping it will lighten his mood. “For restocking purposes.”

Astarion doesn’t turn around, and when he remains silent for several tension-filled seconds, you wonder if your quip was a mistake.

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks.

The question takes you by surprise and try as you might, you can’t figure out what he’s talking about. “I’m sorry?”

“You said that you’d do anything for me. Did you mean it?”

Oh. That. “Yes.”

Your heart starts pounding as he shifts to look at you. Silvery beams of moonlight caress his beautiful face, a face painted with apprehension — and possibly hope.

“And what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” you ask in return, because you’re not ready to say those three little words. Not yet.

“Nice try, Tav.” His jaw tightening, Astarion suddenly looks closed off. “If you’re going to play coy with me you might as well leave.”

With that, he turns away from you again — and it feels like a stab to the heart. “It means,” you amend quickly, “that I care for you.” You’ve never been good at expressing your emotions. Never been good at opening yourself up to other people. And it’s scary to do so now. “Deeply.”

Astarion scoffs. “I bet you said that to Gale too,” he says, and the bitterness in his voice stings.

“I– what are you talking about?”

“I saw you. You went to him.”

Acting without thought, you rush forward to place yourself in front of him to make sure that he looks at you; he needs to fully understand what you say next. “It wasn't like that, we only talked. Astarion, you’re special to me.”

You steel yourself for another cutting remark, but you’re helpless against the sad expression that replaces the anger. “So special that you decided to end things between us?”

Fool. You’ve been a fool. “I ended things because I didn’t think…” Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself to be honest. “I did it because I was jealous and I couldn’t handle the possibility of you breaking my heart.”

His brow twitches in confusion. “You were jealous? Of who?”

You desperately ache to touch him, but you hold yourself back. “Shadowheart. Halsin. Anyone that I thought was sharing your bed besides me.”

“Tav. Darling.” He sounds exasperated but hearing the endearment again sparks tingles of joy and hope inside your chest. “I haven't invited anyone to my bed since we started sleeping together.”

Oh. Oh. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” For the first time since you found him, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you knew that.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” To say that you’ve been an idiot is an understatement. You’ve let yourself see things that aren’t there because you are insecure. “I haven’t either, you know. Been with anyone else since you.”

The smile twists into something teasing and sultry that feels more like Astarion. “Is that so?”

“It is, and I honestly can’t believe you’d think anything different.” It’s true. While you wouldn’t call yourself unattractive, you’ve never really been one to draw the attention of potential lovers. You’ve had a few before Astarion of course, but in general, people have been more inclined to remain your friend rather than try to pursue something more. “You wouldn’t have looked twice at me if you had seen me on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.”

“Now that is just untrue, my dear Tav.” He reaches for your hand, taking it in his. “As you so bluntly pointed out that night, my motives for seducing you may partly have been driven by self-preservation, but I chose you for a reason — and not because you're our reluctant leader.”

His slender fingers grip you tighter and the touch is exactly what you need just then. “Is that so?” you echo, attempting to sound teasing. You fail spectacularly.

“I was drawn to you even before I started to develop feelings for you.” Lifting your hand, he presses a lingering kiss on the sensitive skin of your palm before resting it against his cheek. “At first, I thought it was the need for your body that kept you in my thoughts night and day. But as I got to know you better, I realised it was your mind — you — that held my attention.” Closing his eyes, he leans into the touch with a sigh. “What Cazador had me do… It taught me how to read people. But you…?” He opens his eyes again to look at you, and what you see makes your heart skip a beat. “I thought I had you figured out, but you continuously prove me wrong. And I appreciate that more than I can express.”

“Astarion.” There’s so much you want to say. So much you need to say. But in that moment, you finally find the courage to tell him what you should’ve told him weeks ago, so the rest will just have to wait. “Astarion, I love you.”

His eyes widen in surprise as something vulnerable flashes across his face. After five heartbeats — you know, because you counted — he lets go of your hand to gently cup your neck.

The kiss is soft and gentle. Careful. In a way, it feels like a first kiss.

“Why didn’t you tell me that instead of breaking up with me?” He kisses you again before you can reply. “There you go again, doing the unexpected.”

You don’t even try to hold back a smile. “Have to keep you on your toes, you know. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure it would be welcomed, you silly goose.” To your surprise, it no longer hurts as much thinking back to that night. “First you disappeared and then when I found you, you were sitting between Halsin and Shadowheart.”

“My my, were you jealous, darling?” he drawls in mock surprise. The bastard.

“Of course I was!” You very carefully wrap your arms around his waist, ignoring the ache from your injury. Because you need to feel him against you, pain be damned. “Why do you think I gave Gale so much attention?”

“And got yourself decadently drunk, too. It was a glorious sight.”

“Oh shush, you.” Despite yourself, you laugh.

“I have to apologise, though, my darling. I, too, was jealous.” His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I could tell something was troubling you, but you kept being so elusive. I assumed… I thought that meant you only deemed me worthy of getting access to your body, and nothing more.”

“Astarion.” The sincerity and sorrow permeating his words make you feel like a villain. “Gods, I’m so sorry, too. At the time, I didn’t think you’d be interested in anything else.”

“I want anything and everything you give me, Tav.” You feel his fingers slide down your uninjured side, gripping you as firmly as he dares to. Lifting his head to get a better look at you, his eyes lock with yours. “I love you, with everything that I am.”

You can see the truth of it in his gaze, can feel it in his touch. He loves you. Was it always there and you were just blind to it? Or did he hide his feelings, just like you did?

It doesn’t matter, you decide, because all you need to know is that he’s in your arms.

“You have all of me, Astarion.”

“My beautiful Tav.”

You share another kiss, and then Astarion insists you both go back to camp to let you rest. The thrumming pain of the wound is there, but it’s easily overshadowed by the warmth blooming in your chest every time Astarion throws a smile your way on your way back. His hand is still linked with yours — it’s such a small detail but it feels infinitely more intimate than anything else you’ve shared with him so far. It’s impossible to stop smiling — not that you’re trying.

He follows you to your tent but to your dismay, he tries to leave after he has made sure that you have everything you need.

“Please don’t leave,” you say, refusing to let go of him. “I want you to stay. Stay the night.”

“Tav, my love, you’re in no condition to have sex.”

My love. It almost throws you off course to hear the new endearment. “Astarion, my love,” you counter, and oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction, “I wasn’t suggesting we’d have sex. I just want you close. Assuming that’s alright, of course.”

“Really?” He sounds just a tad surprised; that’s something you and he will need to unpack before going any further. But not tonight. “Well, that I can do.”

It takes a bit of careful shuffling around, but you manage to find a position that’s comfortable for you both without putting pressure on your injury.

He’s here. In your arms. You didn’t think you’d get to have this, but he truly is here. Your contented sigh is nothing but a muffled exhale into his curls but he doesn’t seem to mind, giving you a fond chuckle in response.

“Are you sniffing my hair, darling?”

“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing even to your own ears. “Well. Maybe a little,” you confess. “I can’t help that you smell nice.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, pet. Your scent is quite enticing too, you know.” You feel his chest expanding as he takes a deep inhale. “Drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Since you drive me crazy on a regular basis, I’d say that’s only fair.”

“Why, you little cheek..! Just watch me be even more annoying from now on.”

“You’re not annoying,” you say, trying to hold back a yawn. “You’re just a handful.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course–“ you lose the battle against another yawn. “…you will.”

You feel the press of his lips against your skin. “Quite right.”

“Astarion?” Your eyelids start to get heavy, and for the first in what seems like ages, you feel completely safe and relaxed. “I’m so happy I have you in my life.”

“Me too, darling. Me too.” His hand slides down to find yours, lacing your fingers. “Now go to sleep, my love. I’ll watch over us. And tomorrow we will face whatever comes next. Together.”

~~~

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #10)

FEB10: Reassurance

Last night had been… everything.

The way that he had made love in you had been unlike anything you’d ever experienced in your whole life. It was your first time together, but it was as if he knew your inner thoughts and hopes and dreams and desires. If you needed more, or less, he gave it to you.

He bathed you in his love, sore and filthy as he was, unshaven and unkempt from his long tour, his dog tags warming themselves as they danced across your bare chest. What he couldn’t deliver with his fiercely strong hands, he gave you with his body, using himself like a brush to paint you into a scene of beauty.

John had shown you parts of yourself you’d never noticed before, celebrating your tiniest details like he was combing a wide beach, picking up the gleaming, salty shells and admiring their smooth nacre, revealing each piece of you with wonder.

When you cried out for him, he sighed from your pleasure, as if your bliss was his bliss. It was like he could feel what he was doing to you, bound to you by some ancient spell, fully entranced by your trembling, pulsing joy.

But, now that you were awake and he slept soundly against your naked form, his cheek heavy on your bare breast, all of the memories of your ex came hunting for you. He hated staying over, and he had made you believe all men hated it. He had never stayed, and the idea that John would make a similarly quick exit made your heart hurt.

You tried so hard not to wake him up, endeavoring to still your breathing, hoping he wouldn’t leave you once his eyelashes fluttered into the shining sunlight streaming into your room.

He grunted, pulling you tighter to his chest, rubbing his hands across your soft belly, encircling you like a warm trap.

“You awake, pretty girl?” His already deep register was nearly a growl as the roughness of his morning voice rumbled through your hollow ribs.

“Yeah, do you need to head back to your place?” You whispered, trying to hold back your regret. But, it was no use. He heard your uncertainty and rolled over you, pinning you down with his weight.

“Hey,” he furrowed his brow, “You alright? Talk to me.”

You tucked your arms under his chest, letting him squish you, cocooned in his furry body,

“Yeah, but he…” You waited to make sure John knew which he you were talking about, “He would always rush out. I wasn’t sure if –”

“No,” John lifted himself up so he could pet your cheek, “Love, if you want me to go, I’ll go. But, otherwise, I’m here to stay. And if I’m bloody honest, it would take a fuckin’ act of God to get me out of this bed right now.”

You smiled, turning your face to kiss his fingers,

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Then, I’ll stay,” he purred, smiling down at you, kissing your neck until you sighed, relaxing under him and letting him love you, fully assured that he was with you because he wanted to be.

He whispered against your skin as he ventured lower, kissing the soft, supple skin of your breasts,

“You know this isn’t casual for me, don’t you? I’m proper serious about you, love. Is that alright?”

“I feel the same way, John,” you looked down at him and he met your gaze, smiling with you, looking pleased and a little mischievous.

“Then, settle in, pretty girl. Not finished with you, yet.”

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

[yourmomsawh0r3]

THUNDERSTRUCK

pedro pascal x dcc cheerleader fem reader

Pedro pushed open the door to Y/N's house, the familiar creak welcoming him back after a long day of filming. He set down his bag and shrugged off his jacket, ready to unwind in the comforting embrace of his girlfriend's home.

As he walked further into the house, he heard the faint sound of music coming from the living room. Intrigued, he moved closer, peeking around the corner to see what was going on. There, in the middle of the room, was Y/N, her face lit up with concentration and determination as she practiced her dance routine in a sparkling Dallas Cowboys cheerleader uniform.

Pedro's eyes widened in awe. He knew she had been preparing for the tryouts, but seeing her in the uniform, executing each move with precision and grace, took his breath away. He stood there, completely captivated, not wanting to interrupt her moment of focus.

As the music came to an end, Y/N spun around, her eyes meeting Pedro's. A blush crept up her cheeks as she realized she had an audience. "Babe! I didn't hear you come in," she said, slightly out of breath.

Pedro smiled, stepping forward. "I didn't want to interrupt. You were incredible. You looked amazing out there."

Y/N's face lit up with a mixture of pride and nervousness. "Really? What did you think of the routine? Be honest."

Pedro took her hands in his, his eyes filled with admiration. "I think you're going to do amazing. You've worked so hard, and it shows. They'll be lucky to have you."

The reassurance in his voice filled her with confidence. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

The following morning, Y/N woke up early, the nervous energy buzzing inside her. Today was the day of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleader tryouts, and she wanted to be ready. She did a final run-through of her routine in her living room, the familiar steps calming her nerves a bit. Pedro, who had stayed the night to offer his support, watched her with pride.

“You’ve got this, mi amor,” he said, his voice full of confidence. “Just be yourself out there.”

She smiled at him, grateful for his unwavering support. After a quick breakfast, they drove to the stadium together, Pedro’s hand resting on hers as he drove, providing silent reassurance.

The stadium was a hub of activity. As Y/N walked in, she saw dozens of hopefuls stretching, practicing their routines, and chatting nervously with each other. The air was thick with anticipation. Pedro gave her a reassuring squeeze before she joined the other dancers.

“Good luck. I’ll be right here when you’re done,” he promised, his eyes full of pride.

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping into the designated area for the tryouts. The judges sat at a long table, their expressions serious as they reviewed their notes. Y/N felt a rush of adrenaline as her name was called, and she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest.

The music started, and she moved with the rhythm, every step, leap, and spin executed with precision. She poured her heart into the routine, her eyes focused on the judges, her body moving flawlessly. She could hear Pedro's encouraging words echoing in her mind, pushing her to give her best.

As she finished, the judges nodded appreciatively, jotting down notes. Y/N walked off the stage, her heart racing, but a sense of accomplishment washed over her. She had given it her all.

The wait for the results felt like an eternity. Finally, the head judge stepped forward with a list of names. Y/N held her breath, her hands clasped tightly together.

"Y/N," the judge called out.

Her heart leaped. She had made it! Tears of joy filled her eyes as she joined the other selected dancers. They congratulated each other, the room buzzing with excitement and relief.

That evening, back at home, Y/N received the official call confirming her place on the Dallas Cowboys cheerleading squad. She could hardly contain her excitement as she shared the news with Pedro.

"I knew you would do it!" Pedro exclaimed, lifting her off her feet in a jubilant hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

Weeks later, Pedro sat in the stands of the packed stadium, the roar of the crowd almost deafening. He watched with pride as Y/N and her squad took the field, their uniforms sparkling under the bright lights. They moved in perfect harmony, each cheer and dance routine executed flawlessly.

But as the game progressed, Pedro couldn't help but notice the way some people in the crowd talked about Y/N and her fellow cheerleaders. The leering comments and objectifying glances made his blood boil. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

Despite the frustration, Pedro's pride in Y/N never wavered. When the game ended, he waited for her outside the locker room, a bouquet of flowers in hand. When she emerged, still glowing from the performance, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You were amazing out there," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I can't wait to see you perform again."

Y/N smiled, feeling his support and love surround her. "Thank you, baby. It means everything to have you by my side."

As they walked to the car, Pedro couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and protectiveness. He was in awe of her talent and determination, and despite the challenges, he knew he would always be there to support her, no matter what.

The following week, the intensity of their schedules ramped up. Y/N was immersed in rigorous rehearsals, while Pedro juggled his filming commitments. Despite their busy lives, they made time for each other, finding solace in late-night conversations and quiet moments of togetherness.

One evening, as Pedro arrived at Y/N's house after a long day on set, he found her in the living room, once again practicing her routine. The intensity of her dedication was palpable. She moved with an effortless grace, her body fluid and strong. He watched her, mesmerized, feeling a deep sense of admiration for her unwavering commitment.

Y/N noticed him and paused, slightly breathless. "How was your day?" she asked, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.

"Long, but seeing you like this makes it all worth it," he replied, crossing the room to her. "You're incredible, you know that?"

She blushed, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I just want to be the best I can be."

Pedro took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "You already are. You're going to blow them away."

The days flew by, and soon it was time for Y/N's first official performance as a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. The excitement was palpable as they drove to the stadium together, Pedro's hand a constant source of comfort on hers.

The stadium buzzed with energy. Fans filled the seats, their excitement building as kickoff approached. Y/N and her squad prepared backstage, the air thick with anticipation. Pedro stood with the other significant others and family members, his heart swelling with pride.

The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, and the cheerleaders took the field, their uniforms gleaming under the stadium lights. Pedro watched, his eyes locked on Y/N as she moved with the precision and grace he had seen her practice countless times. The crowd roared in approval, their cheers a testament to the team's hard work and dedication.

As the game progressed, Pedro's pride in Y/N grew, but so did his discomfort with the comments and glances from some of the spectators. He overheard lewd remarks and saw the way some men ogled the cheerleaders, reducing their incredible talent to mere physical appearance. It made his blood boil.

When the final whistle blew and the game ended, Pedro made his way to the locker room, flowers in hand. Y/N emerged, her face glowing with the exhilaration of a successful performance. Pedro pulled her into a tight embrace, the bouquet of flowers pressed between them.

"You were amazing out there," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes shining. "Thank you, my love . It was incredible. I felt so alive."

As they walked to the car, Pedro's protective instincts kicked in. He couldn't shake the anger he felt towards those who had disrespected Y/N and her teammates. "You know, it pisses me off the way some of the men look at you and talk about you like you're just... a piece of meat."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her expression softening. "I know, but it comes with the territory. We have to focus on the positive. The support, the fans who appreciate what we do."

Pedro nodded, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. "I just hate seeing you objectified like that. You're so much more than what they see."

Y/N leaned in, kissing him gently. "And that's why I love you. Because you see all of me."

As they drove home, Pedro's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. He was fiercely proud of Y/N and her achievements, but the protectiveness he felt was a constant undercurrent. He knew he couldn't shield her from the world, but he could be there for her, supporting her every step of the way.

In the weeks that followed, Y/N continued to shine as a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, her performances growing more confident and polished with each game. Pedro attended every performance he could, his presence a constant source of encouragement. The comments and glances from others still grated on his nerves, but he focused on the pride he felt for Y/N and the joy her success brought her.

Pedro couldn’t shake the image of Y/N in her Dallas Cowboys cheerleader uniform from his mind. Her confidence and grace on the field had left him in awe, but it was her passion and dedication that truly captivated him. One evening, as they relaxed at home after a game, Pedro found himself lost in thought, his eyes lingering on Y/N as she moved around the living room.

Noticing his intense gaze, Y/N raised an eyebrow and walked over to him, a playful smile on her lips. “What are you thinking about, handsome?” she asked, sitting down beside him on the couch.

He hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. “I can’t stop thinking about you in your cheerleader uniform,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with admiration. “You looked so incredible out there. It was… really hot.”

Y/N’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Oh? You liked it that much?”

Pedro nodded, his eyes darkening with desire. “I did. And I was wondering if maybe we could… you know, do a little roleplay.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed with excitement, but she didn’t hesitate. “I think that sounds like fun,” she replied, standing up and heading toward the bedroom. “Give me a few minutes.”

Pedro’s heart raced as he waited, anticipation building with each passing second. When Y/N finally emerged from the bedroom, dressed in her cheerleader uniform, his breath caught in his throat. She looked even more stunning up close, her eyes sparkling with the same confidence and allure he had seen on the field.

“Ready cowboy?” she teased, twirling around to show off the full effect of the uniform.

Pedro stood up, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks. “You look amazing, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Absolutely stunning.”

Y/N leaned into his touch, her hands resting on his chest. “I’m glad you like it,” she murmured, her eyes locked onto his. “Now, what do you want me to do, coach?”

Pedro’s pulse quickened at her playful tone. He guided her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her onto his lap. “How about you show me one of your routines?” he suggested, his hands resting on her hips. “Just for me.”

Y/N nodded, standing up and moving to the center of the room. She began to dance, her movements fluid and graceful, every step a testament to her skill and dedication. Pedro watched, mesmerized by the way she moved, his desire for her growing with each passing moment.

When she finished, Y/N walked back over to Pedro, a seductive smile on her lips. “Did you enjoy the show?” she asked, her voice a sultry whisper.

Pedro pulled her close, his hands sliding up her sides. “I did,” he replied, his lips brushing against hers. “But the real fun is just beginning.”

He kissed her deeply, pouring all his love and desire into the kiss. Y/N responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she melted into him. The kiss grew more passionate, their need for each other becoming undeniable.

Pedro gently guided Y/N back onto the couch, his hands exploring the curves of her body through the fabric of the uniform. Y/N sighed softly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, lost in their shared desire.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I have a little surprise for you,” she whispered, standing up and taking a step back.

Pedro’s breath hitched as he watched her. Y/N began to strip, slowly and sensually, starting with the pom-poms that she tossed aside playfully. She swayed her hips to an imaginary beat, peeling off her cheerleader top to reveal the lacy bra underneath. Pedro’s eyes were glued to her, his admiration and desire for her growing with each piece of clothing that hit the floor.

She turned her back to him, looking over her shoulder with a teasing smile as she slid down her shorts,revealing matching lacy underwear. The sight of her made Pedro’s pulse race, and he could barely contain himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice husky with need.

Y/N giggled, walking back to him and straddling his lap. “That’s the idea,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear.

Pedro’s hands roamed over her bare skin, his touch gentle yet filled with passion. He kissed her deeply, his hands caressing her back and pulling her closer. They moved together, their connection electric and undeniable.

Pedro’s hands slid up and down her sides, his fingers grazing the edges of her lacy underwear. Y/N shivered under his touch, her breath hitching in anticipation. Pedro’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a path of warm kisses that made her sigh with pleasure.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispered against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. “How much you drive me wild?”

Y/N could only nod, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she clung to him. Pedro’s hands moved to her hips, guiding her to stand up. He kissed her stomach, his lips brushing over her skin, making her tremble with need.

He took his time, savoring every moment, every touch. His hands slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders, his lips following their path. He unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor, and his breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his eyes filled with admiration and desire.

Y/N blushed, her hands moving to the waistband of her underwear. She hesitated, looking down at Pedro, her eyes filled with love and trust. “Baby, I…”

Pedro smiled, his hands gently covering hers. “Take your time, mi amor. We have all the time in the world.”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she slid her underwear down her legs. Pedro’s eyes never left her, his gaze filled with love and longing. When she was finally bare before him, he pulled her back onto his lap, his hands caressing her skin, his lips finding hers in a deep, passionate kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. “So perfect.”

Y/N melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him back with all the love and desire she felt. Pedro’s hands roamed her body, his touch sending shivers down her spine. He teased her, his fingers brushing over her most sensitive spots, making her gasp and moan with pleasure.

“Pedro, please,” she whimpered, her need for him overwhelming.

Pedro’s eyes darkened with desire as he positioned himself at her entrance. He paused, his gaze locking onto hers, his voice filled with love and tenderness. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pedro,” she whispered, her eyes shining with emotion.

He entered her slowly, his movements gentle and deliberate. Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she clung to him. Pedro’s breath hitched as he felt her warmth surround him, the connection between them deepening with every moment.

They moved together, their bodies fitting perfectly, their rhythm in sync. Pedro’s hands caressed her back, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss. Y/N moaned softly, her hips meeting his with every thrust, their love and desire intertwining in a beautiful dance.

Pedro’s movements became more urgent, his need for her growing with every second. He whispered words of love and admiration against her skin, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. Y/N’s moans grew louder, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she rode the waves of pleasure that built within her.

“Pedro, I…” she gasped, her body trembling with the intensity of her emotions.

“I know, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Let go. I’m right here with you.”

Y/N’s body tensed, a moan escaping her lips as she reached her climax. Pedro followed soon after, his own release crashing over him in a wave of pleasure. They clung to each other, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, they held each other close, their bodies still entwined. Pedro pressed a tender kiss to Y/N’s forehead, his hands gently caressing her back.

“You are amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with love. “I love you so much.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes shining with happiness. “I love you too baby, More than anything.”

like and comment thoughts :)

[mrsjobarnes]

What’s the worst thing that can happen?

Summary: Jake and you have been secretly together for 5 months, what is the worst that could happen? 

Jake Sersin x Mitchell!Reader

Word count: 1.8 k 

Warning - 18+, Angst, Fluff, Illusion to Smut

Likes, Comments and Reblogs  are welcome!

Please do not steal my work! 

“Hey, baby, I'm pulling into the parking lot now. Are you sure you don’t want to come clean and tell Bradley?”

“Y/n have you lost your mind? Rooster and Maverick would kill me if they found out I was dating you, and I don’t know about you but I’d like to live” you giggled at what Jake had just said.  

“Okay but if they ask I’m not lying anymore,” you said.

“Deal, at least if they kill me I’ll have witness” you can’t help but laugh at the stupidity of your boyfriend

“If they see how happy you make me, they can’t hurt you. That’s the perk of being the only girl but in all seriousness, it doesn’t matter what they think, you’re my boyfriend and I love you. That’s all that matters” you quickly say your goodbyes and lock your car. As you walk into the bar you look around for your bean pole of a brother. After you spot him you walk over. “Hey, guys this is Maverick's daughter and my sister Y/n!” Rooster said. Everybody went around introducing themselves when Coyote aks the million-dollar question

“Soooo are you like adopted or something because you look nothing like Maverick,” he asks. Rooster goes to answer when you cut him off. 

“Am I adopted Bradley, how could you lie to me?” you say, the group goes dead silent. He rolled his eyes, while Jake bites his lip to keep from laughing. “I’m just kidding, yeah I'm adopted,” you say. Everybody lets out a collective sigh and hardy laugh.

“Long time no see,” said Nat while she gave you a bear hug. “Seriously where have you been? '' she asks. 

“Well unlike you guys some of us have regular 9 to 5 jobs,” you say smiling. 

“Y/n you and I both know you don’t work a 9 to 5,” Bradley says. It’s true you don’t, you’re an elementary teacher so you work overtime quite often. 

“Tis true brother, however winter break is around the corner! Thank god, I love kids but some of these crotch goblins are giving me a run for my money” you say with a serious look. Everyone burst into laughter. Nat offers to buy you a round and you graciously accept. The team goes on to talk about things that you could care less about. All you care about is the joy you see on Jake’s face when he gets to talking about something he is passionate about. You know how your brother feels about Jake. they didn’t have an excellent start to their relationship but he saved, your brother, and dad. They are working on building a relationship, which makes you very happy. 

As the night goes on you end up playing pool with Jake, Bob, Nat, and Bradley. You are bending over for your shot when Bradley asks “what the hell happened to your neck and chest Y/N” he asked with a very concerned tone, ready to beat whoever did that to you. 

“Oh this, it’s nothing.” you try to play it off but Nat interjects and tells Bradley that they are hickeys. Your face turns beet red as you tried to think of a way to change the conversation. Jake starts panicking because of the conversation you had in the car. “So has anyone seen the new episode of house of dragons?” a tv show you knew Bradley liked.

“You’re not getting out of this Y/n,” Bradley says with a stoic look on his face. He has always been super protective over you. He thought that if you were seeing someone you’d tell him. To be honest he was a little hurt. 

“Its, not a big deal, I’m seeing this guy and he got carried away. It’s not my fault I’m irresistible. Plus I’m a grown woman and if you think I look bad you should see him” you say. Jake smile remembering how she got those and why it looks like his abs and back were attacked by a cat. “Now can we move on to why you still have a caterpillar on your lip,” you ask. The group erupts in laughter. Pleased with the fact that he gets to live till tomorrow Jake buys the table a round. While he’s at the bar ordering a girl comes up and strikes up a conversation with him. 

“Oh look, hangman found someone already. He was doing so well too, almost 4 months.” Javy said. Everyone lets out a chuckle.  You turn around and see Jake talking to a girl. You try hard to not get jealous because you know he is a good guy. Before anyone else could comment they saw Jake shut down the girl’s advancements and head toward the table with their drinks. “Whoah Hangman are you sick,” Javy asks. 

Jake furrows his brows “No?” he said questioning why Javy would ask that, then it dawned on him. “Oh I just don’t feel like it tonight,” he said. 

“That’s been your excuse a lot recently, are you sure you’re okay” Javy ask genuinely concerned. Jake felt trapped, he could either fess up or keep lying. He looked at you, hoping you could give him an answer. You look at him as if giving an encouraging nod.  He quickly musters up some courage. 

“I am seeing someone” Jake said with a bashful smile. You smiled as well, although it wasn’t the full truth it was a step in the right direction. The group was silent until Bob congratulated him and said it was about time. The group quickly moved conversations to talk about the most recent football game. 

You walked over to Jake and whispered into his ear “Hey do you want to get out of here and come to my place?” He gave an enthusiastic yes and told the group that he was going to head out. 15 minutes later you also bid your goodbyes to the group and raced to your house to meet Jake. 

As you pulled into your driveway and parked Jake hopped out of his car and raced to you feverishly kissing you. Once he was done he put his hand out asking for your keys. Once he had them he threw you over his shoulder giving your ass a nice smack which elected a moan from you.

—

 You are awoken by the sun streaming through your blinds. You turn over and snuggle into Jake’s chest to hide from the sun’s harsh rays. He brings you closer as if that’s possible. “Good morning darling,” he said with his voice thick with sleep and southern charm, you smile and look up at him. 

“Moring,” you say kissing him, he kisses you back like a man starved. You giggle and straddle him and kiss down his neck when you hear the lock to your front door click and a pair of boots stomping around. 

“Y/n, are you up? You are late to brunch” your dad shouts

“Hurry up im starving” shouts Bradley stomping up the stairs. You quickly look at your clock and see that it’s 12:30. You are 30 minutes late to brunch. 

“Shit shit shit” you whisper as you get off of Jake and try to find a shirt. “Uhh give me a second, i'll be right out” you shout. Whispering profanity and telling Jake to get dressed and hide in the bathroom. It’s too late because Bradley opens the door right as Jake is getting out of bed to put his boxers back on. 

“What the fuck” Bradley yells frozen in the doorway, you hear another round of feet coming up the stairs. 

“What is it, Bradley,” your dad asks sounding super concerned. Once he appears at the door and lets out a grone. They both look ready to kill At this point, but the shock has worn off of you. 

“First of all knock”, you say in a stern tone. “Second of all calm down,lets talk about this when I’m fully dressed” shutting the door in their faces. Looking back a Jake you expect him to freak but he doesn’t he just pulls you in for a kiss. 

“It was nice to know you doll,” he says kissing you again. You roll your eyes and put on some PJs. Once you are both dressed you head downstairs into your kitchen. 

As soon as you walk in they start asking questions. You hold your hand up and say “First of all stop yelling, Second would you all like coffee?” you walk towards the coffee maker and turn it on. Jake stands at the door looking ready to run if they come after him. As the coffee starts to brew you go about making your cup while Bradley and your dad just stare at you knowing not to mess with you until you’ve had a cup. As soon as you’ve taken your first sip they start bum-barding you with questions. “Okay let me start from the beginning you say” walking over to the table and grabbing Jake along the way, as you all sit down. “Jake and I met at the Hard deck 5 months ago, he was very kind and not like how you all described him,” you say looking at Bradley. 

“YOU’VE BEEN DATING FOR 5 MONTHS” Bradley stands and shouts. You give him a look that screams ‘shut the fuck up’ he quietly sits back down and you continue explaining the ins and out of your relationship. Once you are done you all sit in silence while the two men across from you process this new information. “I still don’t like this,” said Bradley. You kick him under the table and glare. 

“I don’t care if you like it, it's my life and I can date who I want,” you say looking at Jake with doe eyes. Bradley just glares at Jake 

“Does he make you happy,” your dad asks. You shake your head yes. “Then that’s all I can ask for, but I swear Jake if you hurt my baby I will kill you,” he said. 

“Yes sir,” Jake said. “She is honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love her and would do anything for her.” He said kissing your forehead. You look up at him and snuggle into him. 

“Okay, then that’s all I can ask as a father,” Maverick said sincerely. You smile at your dad and then look at Bradley. 

“I'm not happy that you kept this from me, however, if you are happy then I'm happy. Just keep the PDA to a minimum please,” he said with a small smile on his face. “I'm going to text the group that you don’t have an STI,” he said looking at Jake. 

“What,” the group said collectively. Bradley explained that when Jake stopped sleeping with a new girl every night, the team got concerned and Bob suggested that he may have gotten an incurable STI. They all burst into laughter. 

“Well, why don’t you two get dressed? We can go get food, I'm still hungry and I know Bradley is probably dying” said Maverick, you and Jake agreed and went to get ready. 

“See that didn’t go that bad,” you said, handing Jake some clothes. 

“Wait till they find out that I’m moving In,” he said, kissing your neck.

[saintwyfe]

࿐ ˚ . ✦ BABY FEVER. jude bellingham

summary. you and jude visit your sister who recently had a baby, and he (unsurprisingly) is more excited than you to meet the newborn.

cw. just fluff

word count. 1008

it was a foggy morning. you and jude were on your way to visit your sister who recently gave birth to your first niece. naturally, you were very excited. seeing her on facetime would make you giddy. since the beginning of the road trip, you’ve been thinking of the countless things you’d do with your new niece while staying over. 

the entire car ride, you and your boyfriend had been talking about life concerns—work, friendships, and, of course, how you two would react to the new baby. you were teasing him, claiming that he’d be more excited than you would be. and to be honest, seeing the way he’d immediately become infatuated when around his teammates’ kids made you melt inside—like, to the point of considering having children this young. 

“you seriously think i’ll be more excited than you?! that’s your niece, for god’s sake!” jude exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief, as his hands brushed the leather of the wheel.

you knew you were going to be in love with the new addition to your family, but you always loved bantering with jude about things like these, knowing how irritated and unsure he’d be.

you chuckled, looking over at the distraught boy. “nah, i see how you get all cheery when you’re around kids. there’s no denying it, darling.”

“well, that’s different. especially cause this is your niece we’re talking about, y/n,” he ranted, darting a quick glare at you before returning his gaze back to the road.

you fixed your posture towards him, resting your elbow on the armrest, glancing at him. “well,” you paused, “you wanna bet?”

“what? that’s so stupid, babe.” he scoffed. his shoulders stiffened a little while replying to your hypothetical question. “jude, just say that you’ll love her more than me. i won’t be hurt.” he rolled his eyes as you continued to tease him.

“whatever, we’ll be there in somewhere around 15 minutes, so we’ll really see who’ll be more excited,” he sassed, shaking his head. you giggled before digressing into another random topic.

finally, you pulled into the driveway of your sister's home. you were ecstatic, immediately jumping out of the car and popping the trunk to grab your bags, as you were going to be staying for a few days. “what’s taking you so long, grandpa?” you yelled at jude, who was taking his sweet time to leave the car for whatever reason. his shoes shuffled as he lazily walked toward the back to collect the rest of the luggage. sure, he just drove 3 hours straight, but he just wasn’t walking quickly enough for your pace. he shot you a glare before grabbing some of the bags left in the car.

you dropped the luggage on the porch before firmly knocking on the door, which quickly opened, revealing your sister’s warm smile. you immediately greeted her, pulling her in for a tight hug before jude approached the two of you.

you and jude stepped into the foyer with your bags. you immediately took a deep inhale of the new environment, which is routine, of course. “i’m sure you want to see the baby already,” your sister paused, turning around “come follow me,” she signaled as she walked up the stairs. you glanced over at jude, eager to see the newborn. he exchanged your excitement, beaming at you.

“and here she is,” your sister opened the door, revealing a dainty nursery. you wobbled toward the crib, softening when facing the sleeping bundle of joy. you turned over at her, covering your mouth out of pure shock and admiration. she nodded, walking towards you. “you can hold her, just be gentle,” she whispered as you silently scooped your niece.

“she’s beautiful,” you murmured before bouncing the baby. looking at the faint face made your stomach coil. you were internally screaming out of joy. 

“i should probably go heat up her milk before she wakes up,” your sister spoke, breaking the silence, “i’ll leave you two alone for a sec, i’ll be back soon,” she said before the door clicked shut.

“isn’t she pretty?” you whispered, following a nod from jude.

"would you like to hold her, my love?" you paused before extending your arms slightly. he carefully held the baby from your arms without reluctance. his pretty, puppy dog eyes seemed so fascinated with the newborn in his arms. you watched as a faint smile spread on his face. it was impossible not to melt when you saw the two of them together.

“aren’t you the cutest baby ever?” he whispered. he looked back up at you, mouthing what seemed to be ‘i can’t,’ causing you to giggle. you scooted closer to the two before caressing the baby's chubby cheeks. the baby briefly yawned, causing you two to gasp from the cuteness.

after having dinner with your sister and brother-in-law, you were chatting with your boyfriend on the bed about casual topics, but you couldn’t help but notice the number of times he’d bring up how adorable the baby was, or how he’d immediately jump when the baby would cry. 

“jude, you really talk about that baby more than me,” you exclaimed.

 

“y/n, i can’t help it. she’s so adorable,” he winced, hiding in his hands. “see—this was exactly what i was talking about in the car and you denied every one of my words. you’re so predictable.” you sighed, glancing at the cheesing boy. 

he shrugged following your declarative. “you know—” he muttered with a suggestive tone.

“jude if you’re gonna say anything about us having a baby, i’m gonna shut you down. we’re teenagers, in case you forgot,” you interrupted.

“you know me so well,” he clicked his tongue, before glancing at the clock. “but, can we go back to see the baby before she falls asleep?” he squeaked, turning toward you with doe eyes.

“you’re so annoying,” you huffed before rolling off of the bed, where he immediately followed, chuckling. “you love me, though,” he whispered in your ear as you immediately shook your head.

[37sommz]

❁ : she's dreaming . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: angst & suggestive (18+). ✼. wc: 3.6k.

it’s been weeks since michaela has thought about that night in tuscany. but with the season freshly over, the guilt starts to the submerge her. and all at once, jenson is everywhere and nowhere at all. 

✼. warnings: suggestive but not smutty. language warnings. not proofread (lol). mclaren papaya mentions.

✼. notes: she’s kind of an asshole in this one but you would too if you have jenson!brain. angst again bc i have no self-control. the true honest beginning of the jenson arc is here!! experimenting with the formatting a little bit idk how i feel though.

000.⠀⠀DECEMBER 14, 2020    ›    Monaco.

"Mm, you're so fast," Olivier murmured into her ear, his breath hot and ragged.

Michaela's eyes snapped open, the racing of her heart not entirely from passion but the echo of her fastest lap point from Abu Dhabi yesterday. She pushed him away gently, laughing at the odd choice for dirty talk the Frenchman had chosen. Under the soft moonlight of their Monaco hotel room's balcony, she leaned the full weight of her body against his stronger, half-naked form.

"What's so funny?" Olivier asked, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "It's true, you're so fast."

Michaela couldn't help the smile that tugged at her own lips. "You're so odd," She quipped, tracing her fingers along the taut muscles of his abdomen. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between them.

Olivier leaned in, kissing her neck gently. "Seriously though, baby," He said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone, "I'm so proud of all you've accomplished this past season."

Michaela giggled once more as the bliss of Mediterranean air swirled and enveloped them in a haze that tottered between love and lust. His hands were everywhere and committed to nowhere all at once as she released the smallest of whines in anticipation of his next display of passion.

Her eyes fell upon the McLaren team's official merchandise laid out on the nearby table—she had worn it earlier today on their flight as she had gone straight from their factory in Surrey to her vacation in Monaco. The polo, though a symbol of hope, was also a stark reminder of the conversation she'd been trying to avoid. Olivier had been much too eager to take it off his girlfriend of a year and Michaela pretended not to notice though it stung nonetheless.

"Your new McLaren gear, I see," Olivier said, his hand pausing mid-caress as he followed her gaze to the shirt. "You're really going to wear that papaya orange next season?"

Michaela stiffened, feeling the joy of their intimate moment dissipate like mist in the early morning sun. "What's wrong with papaya orange?" She asked, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.

Olivier rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly my color, chère," He mentioned with a laugh, his hand still playing with the strap of her lingerie. "But if you’re contractually required to wear it, I guess I’ll put up with it."

Michaela's smile faltered. "It's not just about the color, Olivier," She said, her voice firm. "It's about my future in the sport. This is a big deal for me."

If Olivier heard her, he gave no indication of any kind. His hands continued to caress his girlfriend's skin as his lips wandered the expanse of her shoulders and up her neck.

Michaela pushed the topic away, the moment feeling too delicate to be sullied by their ongoing argument. Her thoughts grew hazy as his touch grew more insistent. But the nagging feeling remained regardless. Was it really so hard to support her dreams?

Their bodies intertwined, Olivier's hands explored the curves of her body, setting her alight with a passion she knew was genuine. Yet, her mind was elsewhere—replaying moments from her second Formula 1 season—the smell of rubber, the roar of the engines, and the sweet taste of success at her third-place finish in Tuscany.

It was that podium finish, the first for a woman in history, that had brought her to Jenson's arms. The English former champion had congratulated her, and she had been drawn to his easy charm and the understanding in his eyes. The memory of that night grew clearer, the whispers of betrayal echoed through her mind like the rustling of leaves in the Monaco night.

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and guilt as Olivier's hands grew more intimate. The scent of the champagne they had gotten drunk on just moments earlier wafted through the air, a cruel reminder of her infidelity. She closed her eyes tightly, willing the image of Jenson out of her thoughts. But his touch remained etched in her skin, a silent confession that grew louder with each breath she took.

"Are you okay, darling?" Olivier asked, sensing the sudden tension in her body.

Michaela took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts of Jenson to the back of her mind. "Yeah," She lied as she forced a smile. "Just a little tired."

Olivier's eyes searched hers for the truth, but she averted them, focusing instead on the horizon where the last signs of daylight kissed the water. "You're sure?" He whispered, his voice laced with concern.

Michaela nodded, her throat tight with the weight of her secret. She didn't want to ruin the night—not yet. But the conversation had left a sour taste in her mouth, one she couldn't ignore. "Let's just enjoy tonight," She murmured, leaning into him again. She turned to face him head on, willing her hands to travel the length of his well-defined chest to cradle his face in her hands.

Olivier could not help but notice the plea in Michaela’s eyes, his own filled with a hint of doubt. But he kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking hers in a motion as fiery as the passion that had brought them together. The tension between them melted away as they gave themselves over to the moment. Their bodies synced in a rhythm as familiar as the purr of an engine, each movement speaking volumes in a language only they understood.

Michaela's guilt weighed on her like the gravity of indecision, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the here and now. The sound of their breathing grew ragged, their skin slick with sweat, and the world outside their love faded away. For a brief moment, she was free—free from the pressures of her new contract, free from the whispers of doubt, and free from the haunting memory of her indiscretion with Jenson.

As the night grew darker and the air grew thicker with the scent of their love, Olivier whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his voice a gentle comfort that seemed to resonate with the distant waves. But his words were hollow echoes of a support she desperately craved. With each moan of pleasure, she felt the gap between them widen, the truth of her actions with Jenson a heavy burden she wasn't ready to share.

Finally, unable to contain the storm brewing within, she pulled away before either of them could finish, her eyes searching his for something—anything—that could make this right. "Olivier, can we talk?" She asked, her voice small and trembling.

Olivier's eyes stilled upon hers for a moment before nodding, his own smile faded into a look of concern. "Of course, chère." He stood to his full height, totally unprepared for the ensuing conversation.

Michaela took a deep, shaky breath, the cool Monaco night air raising goosebumps on her flushed skin. "Every time I talk about my future with McLaren, you get so... distant," She began, her voice tight with emotion. "I can't help but feel like you're not as excited for me as you say you are."

Olivier's expression shifted into a mix of confusion and defensiveness. "What are you talking about?" He asked, reaching for her hand. "I've supported you every step of the way."

Michaela's gaze dropped to their intertwined fingers. "But you don't get it, do you?" She said softly. "You don't get what this means to me."

Olivier squeezed her hand gently, his brain scrambling for understanding. "I'm trying, Mickey," He said. "I really am."

Michaela felt a lump form in her throat. "You shouldn't have to try," She whispered. "You should want to be there."

Olivier's brow furrowed as he sat beside her on the balcony's chaise lounge, the moon casting shadows across his concerned features. "What are you saying?" He asked, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

Michaela took a deep breath, the scent of the ocean mingling with the faint smell of the city's nightlife. "I'm saying that every time I bring up McLaren, you change the subject or make a joke about it," She replied, her voice growing stronger with each word. "It's like you're not really here for me."

Olivier looked genuinely surprised. "I just don't want to lose you," He admitted, his voice low and sincere. "When you're in the middle of the season, you're so focused on winning that I feel like I'm just... an accessory."

Michaela's eyes widened with shock. "What? No, you're not," She protested, though the sting of his words resonated deep within her.

Olivier looked away, his jaw clenched tight. "Maybe not now," He said, "But what about next season? With McLaren, you'll be even more consumed by the sport. I won't be able to compete with that."

Michaela felt the anger simmering in her chest, her eyes flashing with intensity. "Is that what this is about?" She demanded, her voice rising. "You're jealous of my career?"

Olivier sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair. "No, Mickey," He said, his voice weary. "It's not about being jealous. It's about feeling... irrelevant."

Michaela's anger tapered off, replaced by a sudden rush of sadness. "I'm sorry you feel that way," She said, her voice cracking. "But my career is my life. You knew that going into this."

Olivier's expression grew dark. "But what about us?" He countered. "Is there no room for me in your career?"

Michaela felt the sting of his words. "Of course there is," She said, her voice thick with mounting emotion. "But you have to support me. That's what being in a relationship is about."

Olivier leaned back, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. "And what about when you're too busy with your races and your parties?" He asked, his voice accented with a bitterness she had never heard before. "What happens to us then?"

Michaela felt the weight of his question like a gunshot to the stomach. She knew she couldn't give him the answer he wanted to hear—not without admitting the truth about that night in Tuscany. "You've never wanted to go with me," she said, her voice whispering. "How could I know you wanted to be there if you've never been excited, Olivier?"

The tension grew thick as the silence stretched out between them, the only sound the distant hum of the city below. Olivier took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in the moonlit air. "You're right," He finally said. "I've never felt truly welcome."

Michaela's eyes searched his, desperation pooling in her heart. "That's not true," She protested. "For fuck's sake Olivier, you've spent more than enough time with Giovinazzi, Gasly, and Sainz. How could you be unwelcome?"

Olivier shrugged, his eyes on the sunset. "It's not the same," He murmured. "They're all your colleagues. I'm the boyfriend. The one who's supposed to be there through thick and thin, but every time you win, you're in the arms of some other man. Every time you sign a new deal, you're wearing their colors, not mine."

With a grunt he lifted himself from the chair. Hastily he slid the door to their room open, trekking inside without as much as a glance towards his girlfriend. Sighing to herself, Michaela grabbed hold of the dreaded papaya polo, throwing it on and adjusting her lingerie underneath.

"Where are you going?" She called out as she stepped into the room.

Olivier didn't respond. He was already at the mini-bar, pouring himself a drink, the amber liquid sloshing into the glass with a sound that echoed in the room. His broad shoulders were tense, and his back was to her, a clear indication of his mood.

Michaela felt the anger build within her, but she knew this wasn't the time for accusations or defensiveness. She approached him slowly, her heart hammering in her chest like a drumline. "I didn't mean for it to be like that," She spoke with a tremble in her voice.

Olivier took a swing of his drink, not turning around. "It's just the way it is, isn't it?" He said, his voice cold and distant.

Michaela stepped closer, her heart pounding. She could feel the distance growing between them with every beat. "No, it's not," She insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can come with me to every race, every event. I want you there."

Olivier downed the rest of his drink, his eyes never leaving the floor. "Do you?" He asked, his voice barely audible. "Or do you just want me there so you don't feel guilty?"

Michaela felt the force of his words like a slap to the face. She stepped back, her hand falling to her side. "What are you talking about?" She asked, her voice shaking.

Olivier turned to face her, his eyes dark and accusatory. "You tell me," He said, his voice low and menacing. "What happened in Tuscany? Why couldn't you answer any of my calls that night?"

Michaela's breath hitched in her throat. The memory of Jenson's arms around her, his whispers in her ear, flooded her mind, inescapable. "Olivier, that's not what this is about," She said, her voice strained.

He took a step closer, his eyes piercing hers. "Isn't it?" He demanded. "Or is it because you found someone else to fill the void when I couldn't be there?"

Michaela felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn't expected the conversation to turn this way—not here, not now. "What are you saying?" She whispered, her voice shaking.

Olivier's gaze was unwavering. "I know you, Mickey," He said, his tone even. "You don't do well with being alone in your big moments. And when I couldn't be there for you after your big day..."

Michaela's eyes grew wide with horror. "You think I cheated?" She managed to choke out.

Olivier's jaw tightened. "Did you?" He asked, his voice a knife's edge of accusation.

Michaela took a deep breath, her eyes searching the room for escape from the accusation. "Olivier, please," She begged, her voice shaking. "It's not like that."

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Isn't it?" He asked, his voice a low growl. "You tell me, Mickey. Did you or did you not spend the night with someone else when you should've been celebrating with me?"

"Celebrating with you?" She suddenly scoffed, remembering the circumstances that led to her fall in the first place. "Was I supposed to spend the night locked away in my hotel room getting drunk with you on Facetime?"

Olivier's eyes searched hers, looking for the lie she knew he wanted to find. "It's not like you to avoid me, especially after a good race," He said, his voice strained.

Michaela felt the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, straightening her spine. "I needed to be with someone who understood," She finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Olivier's eyes grew wide with shock, his handsome features contorting with disbelief. "Someone like who?" He spat out, the venom in his voice palpable. "Huh?"

Michaela took a shaky breath, her heart racing as she met his gaze. "Jenson," She whispered, the name leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Olivier's eyes narrowed into slits, his fists clenching at his sides. "Jenson Button," He said through gritted teeth. "Your fucking teenage crush? Must have been a dream come true." The words left his mouth with an element of disgust. He reached for the bottle of alcohol again, pouring himself another glass.

Michaela felt the tears finally spill over her lashes as she watched him. "It was one night," She insisted. "I was just so... happy, and you weren't there."

Olivier took a long pull from his glass, the liquid fire burning down his throat. He slammed it down on the table, the sound echoing through the suite like a bullet. "One night," He repeated, his voice thick with anger. "That's all it takes to replace me, huh?"

Michaela felt the sting of his accusation, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "It wasn't about replacing you," She said, her voice trembling. "It was about feeling seen and supported."

Olivier scoffed, turning away from her to refill his glass. "That's bullshit," He spat. "You're just saying that as an excuse."

Michaela felt the rage build within her, a rage fueled by his accusation and her own guilt. She stepped closer to him, her eyes blazing. "How dare you?" She hissed. "You have no idea what it's like to be me. To be the first woman to stand on that podium. To be the most scrutinized athlete in a sport that's been dominated by men for decades. To be torn apart for the whole world to see every single time I step outside."

Olivier's expression softened, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to something else—regret. "I do know," He said, his voice hoarse. "I see it every day. The way you're treated, the way they look at you." He took a step closer, reaching for her, but she stepped back, the gap between them feeling like an insurmountable distance.

Michaela wiped at her tears, her eyes glaring. "You don't know shit," She said, her voice shaking. "You don't know what it's like to be me. You don't care what it's like to be me."

Olivier's hand fell to his side, his shoulders slumping. "Michaela," He began, but she cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.

"Don't," She said, her voice thick with emotion. "Don't you dare try to act like you understand."

Olivier took a step back, his hands rising in surrender. "I'm sorry," He whispered. "I just..."

Michaela didn't let him finish. "You just what?" She challenged, her voice shaking with emotion. "You just don't get it? You just don't care?"

Olivier looked at her, his eyes pleading. "Michaela, baby," He started, but she was already shaking her head.

"Don't call me that," She said, her voice cold and unforgiving. "Not now."

Olivier's hand fell to his side, his eyes peering into hers. "What do you want from me?" He asked, his voice filled with pain. "What can I do to make this right?"

Michaela took a deep, shaky breath. "You can't," She said, her voice cold. "Not unless you truly support me. Not unless you understand that my career is as much a part of me as you are."

Olivier's eyes swelled, the depth of his love for her clear despite the anger and hurt that clouded his features. "I want to," He said, his voice honest. "But I need you to be honest with me. To include me."

Michaela felt the anger drain from her body, leaving only the heavy weight of her secret. "I know," She whispered, her eyes dropping to the floor. "But I was scared."

Olivier took a step closer, his hand reaching out tentatively to cup her cheek. "Scared of what?" He asked, his voice gentle.

Michaela leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against her cool skin. "Scared of losing you," She admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Scared that you wouldn't understand the pressure, the need for... something more."

Olivier's hand dropped from her cheek, his eyes unable to pull themselves away from her. "More than what?" He asked, his voice tight with unspoken fears.

Michaela took a deep, trembling breath. "More than just being my boyfriend," She replied, her voice a whisper. "Someone who understands the thrills and the agony. All of it."

Olivier's expression grew solemn as he took her in, his thumb gently brushing away the tears that trailed down her cheek. "I want to be that person," He said, his voice earnest. "But you have to let me in."

Michaela looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't think I can."

Olivier's hand stilled on her cheek, the room growing colder despite the warmth of the night outside. "Why?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Michaela swallowed hard, the pull of emotion weighed down on her chest. "Because it's not just about the racing," She said, her eyes never leaving his. "It's about the parties, the sponsor events, the constant scrutiny. And you... you've never been a part of that."

Olivier's jaw tightened, his thumb brushing away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "So, what are you saying?" He asked, his voice a mix of anger and sadness. "That I'm not good enough for you?"

Michaela's eyes gazed into his, the pain in her heart reflected in her gaze. "No," She said, her voice a whisper. "It's not about that. It's about you being you. And me being me. We can't do that and exist in this world together."

Olivier's hand fell away from her cheek, his eyes dropping to the floor. "What does that mean?" He asked, his voice thick with unfamiliar emotion.

Michaela took a deep, shaky breath. "It means that my world is changing," She said, her voice wavering. "And I don't know if there's room for us in it."

Olivier's eyes tore themselves from the floor and back to her face, the pain in his heart mirroring the ache in hers. "Is that what you want?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Michaela's heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, the weight of her words heavy on her chest. "It's not what I want," She said, her voice trembling. "But it's what I need."

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[thebritishboyfriends]

I don’t know if anyone will see this

but I’ve been sitting here since the news broke, still trying to process that this happened. That this is reality. This fandom kept me afloat through my hardest times— college, graduation, grad school, coming out, my mom dying— and it meant the world to me. It still means the world to me, if I’m honest. The people I met, and this silly and brilliant band, have burrowed so deep into my heart. It felt like a warm comfort, always there as a “maybe they’ll reunite,” or a, “hey, let me reach out and see how _____ is doing!” It feels like something is shattered now, obviously so broken beyond repair.

Liam brought so much to the band. He gave his heart and soul to this. Even when we weren’t the best to him, he showed up and he gave us his all. I wish so much that the outpouring of love for him now is something he could have felt when he was here, to lift him up and comfort him. Liam was bright, but he was also steady and headstrong, and brave, and he was hurting. We can only see such a small, calculated glimpse into who they are— the authentic glimpses of Liam tell us that he was so much more than anything we could read about, or gossip, or more. He was a person, and people are complicated and flawed. His were unfairly thrust into an international spotlight.

I know many of us may have conflicted feelings about this. I understand that this is a complicated grief, because this means so much to all of us. Because he meant so much to all of us. I hope that we can be kind in our judgement, as he deserved while he was here. Good people can do bad things, and this in no way excuses any unethical behavior. It also doesn’t erase the deep love we feel for him, and the gratitude we want to express for the joy he brought into our lives. My heart aches for Bear, and I hope he only knows the love and the vibrancy his dad brought into the world. He deserved a better hand than he was dealt.

Liam, you deserved so much better. I hope, if your spirit returns, it’s into a vessel running wild and free. One without a cage, one without the tethers of fame. I hope you soar, sweet Liam. I loved you, I’ll love you, I love you forever.

thank you for everything, payno.

[loquaciousquark]

From @maybethings and @blackestnight: wallflower

From @compels and anonymous: daffodil-flavored spider flower

Wallflower: fidelity in misfortune or adversity

Daffodil: new beginnings

Spider flower: elope with me

And you thought the last fill was indulgent. Have some utterly unrelenting sap, and then an argument, and then more sap. 5800 words.

--

Gradually, over the course of several minutes, Tav became aware of the fact that she was happy.

Only a handful of times in her memory had she recognized the contentment as it happened. Mostly the realization had come only with idle retrospection—tendays, months, years later—and with a bitter nostalgia that it had all slipped by so easily, without her noticing.

Not this time, though. This time, with Astarion’s cool arms twined around her shoulders, her head tucked firmly against his chest, and their limbs tangled up in both luxurious satin sheets and afterglow, Tav was happy and she knew it.

Gods. Lliira herself would struggle to match this joy, surely. Tav trailed her fingers idly up Astarion’s arm, then cupped his cheek as she kissed the underside of his chin. He gave a drowsy, questioning hum, tightened his arms around her, and buried his nose in her hair with a frank fondness that nearly finished her off altogether.

Tav grappled with her own instinct to succumb, to lay her head back down against his chest and let his shallow, steady breathing carry her off to sleep. The question won, but barely. “Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

Even his voice was relaxed. She felt like she’d chucked a rock at a window to watch it shatter. “Never mind. I’ll go to sleep.”

Astarion’s laugh was a quiet rumble in his throat. “It’s rude to tease if you don’t mean to follow through, darling. Out with it.”

“Oh, hells.”

Tav sat up beside him. The loss of contact was almost painful, but the curiosity was stronger still, and he didn’t seem to mind when she ran her fingers through his hair and tucked a curl behind his ear, only hummed and leaned into the touch. Such a simple affection. Such an honest, simple—

“I enjoyed today,” she said instead, ruthlessly crushing the sentiment. “From start to finish. I had a wonderful time with you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm. I wasn’t sure this morning, when—well, you know—”

“When the door to the bath gave way?” His red eyes flashed with amusement, and Tav groaned. Even now heat rushed to her throat at the memory. A perfectly innocent morning tryst in their room’s private adjoining bath, dawnlight spilling over them both amid the smell of cardamom and jasmine—and the room’s very locked door yielding to a housemaid’s key, followed immediately by the housemaid herself with a stack of laundered towels. Tav didn’t know which of them had been more shocked, though the fact that Tav had nearly drowned herself out of humiliation put the betting odds firmly in her corner. Astarion, of course, had found the whole thing hilarious, even sitting naked in a soapy copper tub.

“Yes, you bastard,” Tav said, covering his eyes with her fingers. “You horrible man. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’ll laugh at you whenever I like,” Astarion said archly, pulling her hand from his eyes, but his mouth as he kissed her fingertips was gentle. “Besides, you had your little revenge, didn’t you? Your own private prayer to Helm, right in the middle of that lovely expensive market.”

“Hoar, you blaspheming tosser.”

“I don’t care in the slightest.” He pushed up on one elbow to kiss her, very brief and very light, just as her own fingers had been as they’d dipped into his pockets that morning, exchanging every gem and jewel he’d lifted from the shop’s cases for pebbles and bits of broken shell. His face as they’d left the shop—preening pride replaced in an instant with utter indignance—had made her laugh hard enough she’d cried. “I’ll have my own revenge, you know,” he purred. “Try and stop me.”

“Never,” she said against his mouth. He laughed again, then flopped back to the tasseled pillow, one arm thrown carelessly above his head.

Gods, how beautiful he was like this. Happy, sated, boneless as a sack of meal. She could drink in the sight of him for a thousand years and still be thirsty at the end of it.

“You’re staring, darling.”

“I love you,” she said, as if in explanation, and felt him give the little shiver he always did when she said she loved him and meant it. “You were the most handsome man in the room tonight, you know. Not that you need me to tell you.”

“I think I’d like you to tell me anyway.”

The words were breezy, but she could hear the faint, tremulous thread of uncertainty beneath. Even Sune’s woven sash couldn’t contain how much she loved him. She wanted to curl over him like a bird, wings spread wide as she could to keep him from all harm. Not that he’d tolerate that sort of glossy protection; he’d just as soon take a hissing, clawed swipe at her himself if she tried. Instead Tav kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, and pushed up from the bed.

His voice was outraged. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Just give me a minute, would you?” Tav stretched, took brief advantage of the silver ewer on the bedside table to clean herself off, and strode over to the quietly crackling hearth.

The fireplace was beautiful, the mantle ornate and elegant, as was the rest of their rented room. The finest suite of the finest lodging-house in the glittering city of Athkatla, decked crown to baseboard in brass and cloth-of-gold and carved oak polished to a mirror shine. Three servants had spirited away their belongings into drawers and wardrobes within minutes of their arrival; two more waited below-stairs, ready for the whim of the bellpull beside the bed. The great window on the west wall, heavy curtains drawn now with night, overlooked the shining bay, which had teemed in the sun this afternoon with merchant-ships flying flags dyed rich as gemstones.

And here, thrown with thoughtless grace over the back of the damask armchair set before the fire, was Astarion’s suit from their evening gala. It was one of her favorites: black worsted wool with gold peacocks stitched over the breast and back, gold piping on the sleeves and belt, more black and gold stitchwork accenting the long, lean cut of his trousers. He’d worn the sapphires she’d given him at his throat and on his fingers, alongside the ring from Avernus which he never removed, and when she’d seen him come from the bathing room fully dressed, idly adjusting a cufflink just so, her mouth had gone dry as the Skyfire Wastes.

Gods, she was flushing now at the memory alone. Tav plucked the trousers from the chair and folded them, along with the starched, ruffled white shirt he’d worn beneath the coat, and set them both atop the gilt table nearby. The jacket itself she slipped over her own shoulders in a moment of fancy. The sleeves were long enough to drown her hands past the fingertips; the hem landed halfway down her thighs. The brass toggles glanced coolly against her bare chest and stomach, like stones skipping down a stream. She turned to Astarion, arms spread. “I don’t think it has the same effect, do you?”

“No, my sweet,” Astarion said slowly, but his eyes had sharpened to a piercing, avid stare, dangerous and hungry as a blade. “I can’t say it’s the same at all.”

Her stomach lurched wonderfully, and a frisson of that same desire from only an hour ago began to coil again in her blood. But she had a point, gods damn, and instead Tav scooped up her own forgotten dress from the floor beside the chair, busying herself with brushing away the dust from the deep cerulean silk, straightening the beautiful lace netting at the wide collar, at the cuffs of the long sleeves. A thousand pearl buttons down the back, and Astarion’s elegant fingers trembling, trembling, as he feverishly worked them open before the fireplace…

“The silk’s already crushed, darling. No need to maim it further.”

Tav laughed, the reverie broken, and eased her grip on the gown. “I told you I didn’t know how to care for such expensive things. I should have hung it up right away.”

The fire in his eyes had tempered, the lust banked to something more patient and smoldering. He propped his head on his hand as he watched her. “And deprive the laundresses of their sole joy and purpose? No, pet, I think your time was much better spent.” He licked his lips lasciviously. “Perhaps I could remind you again. Right now.”

“Do you remember that woman from the party?” Tav said instead, returning the dress to its padded hanger, shutting it away in a wardrobe carved with foxes and hunting dogs. “The one with the silver feathers in her hair, and the necklace made of ropes of rubies?”

His look flickered with surprise, but he only raised a brow. “I suppose she left a vague impression. Painted nails, a very tacky sort of fur stole. A general air of grasping desperation. This is whom you’ve been pondering so acutely all evening?”

“Yes. No. Not all evening.” Tav rolled up her too-long sleeves and went to the sideboard. She poured herself a glass of burgundy wine from a crystal decanter, took a sip, and leaned against the back of the armchair. “She was the richest woman in the room. Did you know that? She could buy every gem in the Diamond Dragon twice over without denting her fortune in the slightest. She practically holds court at the Shadowgates House, even though her mother was only a minor marchioness from the Lathkule family.”

“How suddenly you’ve acquired all this information.”

“The duke from Tarm was very drunk and very eager to share.” She took another sip of wine, considering him. “She fell in love with you the moment you walked through the door.”

“Did she?” Ah, there was the badly hidden triumph. He ran his fingers through his curls with absent flair. “Well! Perhaps her taste isn’t beyond redemption.”

“You didn’t notice? She stared at you all night, along with her little flock of gauzy geese. They might have had fishing lines hooked to their noses for how they followed you the whole evening.”

“No, my dear, I can’t say I did.” His expression was at once gloating and aggrieved. “This delightful little tidbit came to you from your Tarmian duke as well, I suppose?”

“No.” Tav was now hiding behind her wineglass like a coward, and she knew it. “She told me that part herself. Right before she offered me fifteen thousand gold danters to leave you and never show my face in Athkatla again.”

All the mirth drained from his expression like she’d opened a tap. He fell carefully, precisely still; his tone went sharp as flint. “Oh? Is that so?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“And what did you say, my love?”

“I said that I’d sooner drink from a Luskan gutter than consider something so despicable. I said if she ever spoke to either of us again I’d have her face plastered on every public placard from here to the Gate with her direct address and a golden promise to the first person to pinch her jewel-case.” Tav gave a crooked smile. “I wanted to tell her that she was now banned from our duchy, only I couldn’t remember where we’d said we were from.”

“Selgaunt, darling. Sembia.” His eyes glittered dangerously. “And then?”

“And then I stole two of her ruby chains and hid them in the pudding, and I slit the lacings of her gown so that it would all come loose the next time she danced.”

“That explains the flurry of organza during the second gavotte. I did wonder. Come here.”

Her heart in her throat, Tav set down the wineglass and went. Astarion pushed aside the satin sheets and sat up on the edge of the bed as she approached, and as soon as she was within reach he grasped the collar of her borrowed jacket and pulled her down into a kiss.

It was a searching kiss, a question she didn’t know quite how to answer. She tried anyway, cupping his face in both hands, curling her shoulders into him, lingering as long as she could in every touch. His hands gentled on her collar, then slid beneath it to twine around the back of her neck.

Eventually, slowly, he pulled away. Tav blinked dazedly, trying to force the world back into focus, and when she found Astarion’s face again she was surprised to see only a thoughtful appraisal there. His thumb stroked up the line of her throat, bumping over the small divots left among her freckles from many quiet evenings, then down again.

“Astarion? What is it?”

“Fifteen thousand gold danters,” he said slowly, that eyebrow rising once more.

“By all the pride of Memnor,” she sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be smug.”

“Oh? Shouldn’t I be?” He laughed and slid his hands down to loop around her waist beneath the jacket. “To think, the greediest little wretch I’ve ever known still manages to prize my heart above enough coin to buy a small nation. Darling, it’s gratifying, truly.”

“Oh,” she said, momentarily disarmed. She’d expected him to be pleased the woman had offered the sum in the first place, not that Tav had loved him enough to reject it. “Astarion, did you—you can’t have thought for a single moment I’d have taken the money.”

“Of course not. I’m worth at least twice that.”

By all the living gods. He was lying.

Her vision went white, and she yanked away from him like he’d burst into flame. “You bastard. You utter wanker. How dare you think I’d have considered fifteen thousand—thirty thousand—a million gold danters! She could have offered me the keys to all the vaults of Evereska and I would have laughed in her face.”

“For suggesting you needed keys, I’d have laughed right along with you.”

“Shut up. How dare you think there might ever be a price to be put on what we—what we’ve managed, against all odds—” Tav whirled away, arms crossed tight over her chest, gaze darting blindly over the settee, the crystal decanter, the plush hand-dyed rug. She ran out of things to look at and spun back to Astarion, livid. “You bloody—horrible man. Oh, you awful—not even she made me this angry when she asked. I wanted to laugh when she said it. Because the moment she did I looked over at you, and you smiled at me, and I could tell just from looking that you were—that you were happy to see me—really, honestly happy, and I thought—”

“Tavish—”

“Don’t speak. Don’t you dare say a word.” He looked seriously alarmed now, half-risen from the bed, but Tav was too angry to stop. “She asked me how much it would take for me to leave my husband. And in all the confusion of what she wanted I didn’t even question it—didn’t even consider it wasn’t really true. I forgot how much was the party mask and how much was real. She didn’t know the marriage was pretense and for a few minutes, neither did I.”

“Tav, darling—”

“And then when I did realize—when I remembered it was all a farce and that you weren’t really—” She raked her fingers through her hair, dislodging the knot she’d tied, and wound it back up in a frenzy. “Today was so wonderful, Astarion. All of it. The stupid incident in the bath and walking with you through the market district and stealing your lifts and every single second of that awful party. Not because of what we did—but because it was all with you. She asked me to leave my husband and my first thought wasn’t ‘I haven’t got one,’ it was ‘nothing could make me leave him.’ And then when I remembered it wasn’t real, I was shocked by how much I felt—how much I wanted—”

Ilmater’s rack, what she wouldn’t give for the ceiling to crash down around her. Astarion was watching her with wide eyes, lips parted enough she could see the tips of his fangs; his hands were clenched in the sheets. Oh, gods, what a fool she was making of herself, but the words refused to be still. “I love you, you stupid berk. I love you. Every moment I spend with you makes me happy. Even right now, when I’d like to throw you right out the window into the bay—there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. Not for any number of danters, not for every diamond in Amn. I don’t want to be your wife as a lie to get into a ball; I want to be your wife so that the next time someone tries to buy you away from me, I can introduce his teeth to the back of his skull.”

Astarion gave a sudden, hollow sigh. She’d heard it before. It was the sound he made in battle when someone struck the air from his lungs without warning, when he’d failed to anticipate a blow.

Damn and damn and damn. What was she doing? Astarion stared at her as if she’d lost every last part of her mind, his shoulders stone-stiff against her wrath, blank shock painted across his features. His eyebrows had climbed so high they’d nearly disappeared behind the white curls.

Tav’s courage failed like a withered spell. She went back to the sideboard and refilled her wineglass with shaking hands—for the price they were charging a nonexistent duchess, she supposed it had to be excellent—and threw it back in two gulps. Perhaps she had lost her mind. She’d certainly lost her tongue, a lifetime of professional silence capsizing wholesale against some hurt feelings and a little annoyance.

At last she heard him rise, then a whispering shift of silk as he pulled on the ornate dressing gown the servants had laid out for him. She filled her wineglass a third time, but his pale, graceful fingers plucked it from her hand before she could drink. She didn’t fight the theft, but neither was she strong enough to face him; she took a few aimless steps towards the fire instead, her toes sinking into the rich carpet, and wrapped Astarion’s jacket more tightly around her.

The sound of the water lapping against the seawall below them roared like thunder; the fire in the hearth snapped like a whip. She clenched her jaw, trying desperately to keep the waver from her voice. “Astarion. Do you really think I’m that craven?”

“Oh? Is the penitent finally permitted to address the bench?”

He was closer than she’d thought. “You’ve never been penitent in your life.”

“It’s exhausting to always be right. One occasionally must try something new.” He came around the chair to stand between her and the fire, the dressing gown’s quilted lapels pulled snug to his throat, his face carefully blank. His shoulders were thrown back, Tav realized, as if steeling himself for a fight. “I don’t think it’s unfair to suggest you have a particular relationship with the common coin. An avaricious one, I mean, and one that occasionally borders on gluttony.”

She wanted to drink something very badly, but he was still holding her wineglass. “Ouch.”

“Don’t misunderstand me; it’s part of your charm. I’m certainly familiar with insatiable appetites, and if nothing else, it makes holiday shopping for you quite simple.” He hesitated. “But to suggest you would permit your—hunger, shall we say—to overpower the affection I know you hold for me—well. It was an unworthy thought. Unkind of me, and certainly unfair to you.”

“More than affection,” Tav mumbled. She pressed her lips together until the prickling behind her eyes faded. “Astarion, I would never.”

“I know,” he said, and if she didn’t know better she would think he was flustered. “But the doubt does creep in every now and then, even for someone this magnificent. So you can imagine that when a perfectly straightforward scolding transfigures itself into one’s lover suggesting a very unexpected—a rather—not necessarily unwelcome—ah.”

He was flustered. And tongue-tied as a schoolboy, that awful impassive mask fracturing under the weight of consternation.

She swallowed. “You think I’m mad.”

“Only in some ways.”

“I suppose it does sound insane when I say it out loud. I don’t know if you—I mean, I’d never once thought about it before—before you. Ever. It always seemed like a thing that only happened to people who owned houses and went out to work every morning and complained about the cost of bread always going up. But then you came along and changed everything about what I thought could be real—” A humiliated laugh slipped out. “Listen, just—just forget the whole thing, all right? I won’t bring it up again. I won’t—”

He took a quick, irritated step forward. “My love, would you kindly shut up? I don’t have marriage proposed to me every day. I’d like to seriously consider it.”

He’d like to—oh.

Oh.

Tav took a stunned, shaky breath. “Well, think out loud then. I don’t propose it very often myself.”

“One hopes not.” He drained the wineglass and set it aside. His voice was pensive, unsteady; he hadn’t fed in almost a day, but his high cheekbones were flushed pink. “I do wonder, though—why now?”

Heart of the Firehair, he meant it. He wasn’t shutting her out; he wasn’t taking flight into the nearest alley. The words tumbled out like a dam had shattered. “Because—gods! Because that awful woman came after you tonight and I wanted to throttle her for trying, no matter how much money she had or how many nobles were watching. Because we’ve been traveling together for months at this point, and if I haven’t stopped loving you by now, I never will. You complain incessantly. You steal my scents. You take all the bedcovers every night and I have to fight you to get them back. You don’t even sleep.”

“Darling, I had no idea you held me in such esteem.”

She batted away his sarcasm. “I wouldn’t change a moment of it, Astarion. Not a single moment. Every gripe, every time I wake up with cold feet, every time I have to steal back something of mine from your pack—it’s all—they’re like jewels to me. Every one of them. I keep—I’ve been hoarding them up like treasures, and it’s not enough, it’s never—I only ever want more. More of the memories. More of you, no matter how much I have already. Even a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.”

Astarion had gone very still. The firelight caught in his red eyes and flickered there; she thought he had stopped breathing. Hesitantly, she closed the distance and took his hands, and she was relieved when his grip instantly tightened.

“Every time I think I’ve begun to understand you,” Astarion started, then trailed off. He looked down, and Tav watched him run his thumb over the ring she had brought him from Avernus, the ring that shielded him from the blinding sun. “My dear, you amaze me. And you tolerate the worst of me, which is rather more impressive.”

“Your worst is still miles better than some people’s best.”

“Let’s not exaggerate for the sake of adoration,” he said, but there was a warmth there that sparked a painful, fragile hope. “You know, I never considered holy matrimony for myself. Not seriously. Oh, I had it offered a few times over the decades, and I suggested it myself here and there as part of a lure, but it only takes a few dozen lovers disappearing into Cazador’s dungeons for the idea to become simply part of the stage dressing.”

Her instinct was to deflect, to retract the idea altogether, but his expression—curious, thoughtful, no fear at all—silenced her. “I’m afraid to admit, darling, that was true even for you. My first friend in two centuries; the first lover in my memory I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying more than once. It simply never crossed my mind.”

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. His eyes softened considerably, and she realized he was breathing again. “I’m beginning to believe that may have been a mistake on my part,” he continued. “In fact, the lapse may have been unforgiveable.”

A thrill jolted through her. “Astarion…”

“It’s only very recently that I’ve permitted myself to imagine a future, you know. Any future at all, much less one with you in it.” His fingers slid along her wrist beneath the jacket’s overlong sleeves, and she realized he was searching for the old, faded marks of his own teeth. “But now that you’ve raised the possibility, I must confess the thought of a little formal acknowledgement of our arrangement—well, it might not be the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Her hands were shaking. She felt like she was about to race into some great battle, her pulse thundering beneath her skin. “Oh, hells. Just say it straight out, would you?”

Astarion laughed. “I’m already terribly fond of the world knowing you’re mine,” he said, and then he smiled. It was a sweet, sincere smile, without any artifice at all, and his voice grew husky and tender. “And frankly, my love, when it comes down to it, I think I quite like the idea of being yours.”

The entire room seemed to dip underwater. All sound grew abruptly muffled—the hearth, the bay, even Astarion’s voice—and she clung to his cool hands as the only real thing in the world. Gradually, her own heartbeat began to thud again in her ears—very fast, very loud—and from the growing satisfaction on his face, Astarion could hear it too.

Tav forced herself to clear her throat. “You—you don’t have to decide right away. You could take some time, think it over.”

“My dear, I’m the first to admit I’m guilty of a great many things, but excessive planning is not one of them.” He draped her hands over his own shoulders, and Tav leaned into the embrace with a shudder of relief. The quilted lapels of his dressing gown were silky as sin against her cheek. “After two centuries of slavery, I hadn’t thought there were any surprises in the world left for me. I knew exactly what eternity looked like, and I couldn’t say I was excited at the prospect.”

His chin came to rest atop her head. “But you changed all that. You came and shattered every lock holding me down, even when the doors had been rusted shut so long I’d forgotten they were there. You didn’t just show me the possibility of a new world, you walked right into it beside me, and you refused to let me bring any of my chains with me on the way.”

Goldheart’s grace. He held her lightly, but Tav felt weightless as a bird, as if one strong breeze might carry her wholly off her feet. Her voice hardly sounded like her own. “You’re giving me a lot of credit for things you did yourself.”

“Don’t interrupt. You told me once that I was part of every future you could dream up for yourself. I’m trying to say that for some months now, I’ve had precisely the same notion about you.” He pulled back to look her in the eyes, and Tav realized with a shock that he was nervous. “You’re it, my darling. For better or worse.”

“Astarion,” Tav sighed, dizzy with joy, and she traced her thumbs over his beautiful cheekbones. “I love you so much more than fifteen thousand gold danters.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, oh, you louse. I wouldn’t give you up if Selûne herself spread the heavens at my feet.”

He laughed, but his arms tightened around her. “I rather like hearing that.”

“I mean it. If you ever again think for a single second that I’d simply trade you away, I’ll shave off every pomaded hair on your head. Eyebrows included.”

He made a noise of disgust, but when she twined her arms back around his neck, his smile squeezed Tav’s heart like a vise. She’d done that. She’d made him so happy he couldn’t hide it, had put that look of unvarnished, shining elation in his eyes. And if she had her way—if Tymora could spare them a single scrap of luck—she’d put it there again, and again and again, beyond counting, for the rest of her life.

His voice was low, rich. “Kiss me, darling.”

“Yes,” Tav gasped, and she surged up to his mouth.

Of course. Of course. Now she understood what he’d been searching for earlier, what her heart had fumbled to say. I’m here for good. Forever, for as long as you’ll have me. I’d have thrown her in the punchbowl if I’d thought we could get away after.

The kiss grew hot, her urgency flooding through every touch. He cradled her face like he was afraid to break her, but his fangs were sharp and pricking carelessly, and she didn’t care, she didn’t care. She loved his fangs and his temper and his complaints and every part of his bruised, scarred heart. He’d let her take it from him despite the pain, let her cup it in the cage of her fingers and hold it close, let her learn to keep it safe from all the world.

It will always be you. I will always, always, always choose you.

Astarion broke away, breathing hard. His palm rested along her throat, pressed to the hammer of her heartbeat. Tav laid her hand over his and couldn’t tell who trembled more.

“How lucky I am. The handsomest man I’ve ever seen, the most beautiful person in the room.” She hesitated, then blazed forward. “Mine for good.”

“For good, for bad, and for all the fun parts between.” He rested his forehead against hers and shut his eyes. “My lovely, foolish, perfect idiot. Impossible fortune may have finally found one of us, but I promise it wasn’t you.”

Her heart brimmed full enough to burst. She kissed him again instead, as tender as she knew how to make it. He made a soft, fervent, wanting noise as he pressed eagerly back against her, and she felt the moment settle itself like stained glass, beautiful and enduring, in the deepest part of her heart.

Yes. She’d make sure this moment stayed. This one would never slip away.

“I don’t have a ring yet,” she said at last against his mouth. “I’ll get one soon. Perhaps I’ll even pay for it.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Between your Reithwin scavenging and your little field trip to Avernus, it is decidedly my turn. Besides,” he added with faint uncertainty, “I think I’d rather like to do this properly. To have something made for you—only for you. Something that’s as beautiful as you are.”

“Astarion!”

“Oh, I quite mean it. If I failed to notice that covetous harpy at the gala tonight, it was because my attention was wholly absorbed by you. You were as brilliant as the sun, my dear, and lovelier than a waterfall of roses. I could hardly bear to look away.”

“Sune’s holy laurels,” Tav gasped, and she clutched at her chest. “You can’t just say things like that. You’ll kill me stone dead.”

His smile was smug and perfect. “You’ll have to get used to it, I’m afraid. You have a lifetime to try. And if you’re still not acclimated by the end of it—well! You’ll simply have to live forever.”

Tav brushed a wayward curl from his eyes. He let her, and she lingered, running her fingers through his velvet-soft hair. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“And I ought not have doubted. I sincerely apologize.” He turned his head and kissed her fingertips. “There. Such a sturdy foundation for our future laid already.”

“You idiot,” Tav sighed, but his hands were playing now at the hem of her borrowed jacket, and his crimson eyes had taken on an unmistakable glint. All the ornate luxury of their suite seemed to vanish at once, save the enormous crown-canopy bed and its tousled satin sheets. His hands climbed further, his mouth dipping to her throat, and she gave a breathless laugh. “We’ll have to watch the time.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I overheard the house staff after dinner tonight. They’re bringing the bill first thing in the morning.”

“Darling, I can’t say I care in the slightest.” His fangs scraped over her pulse-point, and she shuddered. “Perhaps we’ll sneak out before they arrive. Perhaps we won’t. Perhaps you’ll talk them down with that silver tongue of yours—or perhaps we’ll simply pay what they ask, hm? It might be a novel experience.”

The happiness was so bright she could hardly speak. How stupid that she had thought the day wonderful before, when it had only been the palest candle. His voice was fiercely warm, blatantly affectionate, and his hands sliding the black jacket from her shoulders were gentle enough to give her goosebumps.

Astarion, who could kill a man with a knife at sixty paces and complain about a chipped nail after; Astarion, who’d fought with her and for her from the moment they’d met, who loved her and would make a ring for her and marry her. Who trusted her, enough to kill the doubt for good.

She took his face in her hands. “I’ll never pay full price,” she breathed.

He laughed, delighted, and kissed her. His strong, graceful fingers slid between hers, taking her hand as surely as he’d stolen her heart, as surely as he’d given her his own in its place: the most perfect treasure she could imagine, no matter its cold stillness. Like a dream, the question that had started all this—the question she’d never actually asked—floated back through her mind. I had a wonderful time with you today. And you, Astarion? Did you, with me?

He tugged her down to the bed in a cloud of satin sheets. The answer burst through every stroke of his fingers, every careful brush of his lips. Yes, he said, yes, yes, and she gave herself up to the joy.

—

end.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Whisked Away 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a job at a bakery but your new boss only adds to your work

Character: chubby!baker!Thor

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You set the icing bag down and step back. You press your hands against the front of your apron as Thor shifts closer to the counter. You watch him nervously as he turns the tray by the corner and considers your work. Each cookie is a variation of the cross-stitched them. The most detailed shows roses, while the others are intricately lined with grids with scalloped edges. 

He hums and sucks his teeth. You cringe and push your arms down straight, overly aware of yourself and your body. You should at least try to hide your desperation. His cheek dimples and he smiles as he faces you. 

“When can you start?” He asks. 

You nearly sway. You can’t believe it. You’re misunderstanding him. You shake your head, “pardon?” 

“You do good work, so... I’d like to hire you,” his tone is jovial. 

“Right, uh, when... when could I start?” You scrunch up your fists as you feel your insides buzzing. This can’t be real. It’s so sudden. Too good to be true. 

“If I’m being honest, right now,” he turns his large palms out, “however, there is the matter of paperwork and all that.” 

“Right,” you nod. 

“Tomorrow?” He suggests, “bring in a blank check and I can send the forms you need to fill out tonight. Is that too soon? Am I too desperate?” 

You almost laugh as he asks the questions in your own head. You let out a breath. It’s real! 

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agree.  

“Then I suppose that means you’re hired,” he announces and offers his hand, “welcome to the team.” 

You look at his thick fingers before you reach for them. You shake his hand, his covering yours entirely, and he clings for just a minute before he releases you. 

“I’ll pack these up to go,” he spins and marches across the kitchen. He takes out a square box and returns to the counter, “you can take them home to your sister.” 

“Uh, oh, thank you, you don’t have to do that.” 

“Please, a little celebration,” he says as he uses a rubber spatula to transfer the cookies, “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear the good news.” 

“Ah, yeah,” you wring your hands then stop yourself. “Thanks.” 

“Of course,” he closes up the box and holds it out. “Tomorrow at six? You can open with me.” 

“Sure, I can make that work,” you smile, trying not to let your doubts break through. That might be a problem for Delaney. 

🍰

You put the box down on the table as Delaney sits in her recliner. She clacks the long needles together as she grumbles at her latest project. She gave a curt grunt at your entrance; she must be fighting another stitch. 

“Why don’t you grab your frame?” You suggest. 

“Bored of it,” she shrugs as you approach, “you bring me goodies?” 

She peeks over her shoulder towards the table. 

“Yep. Cookies,” you answer, “owner was really nice. Let me take them.” 

“Oh yeah? So...” she looks up at you, “how long til you know?” 

“I already do,” you can’t help a large grin, “I got it.” 

“You got it!” She shoves aside her knitting, “that’s...” she grunts as she pushes herself to the edge of the chair. She waves you away as you try to help, “amazing.” 

She stands and turns to you, pulling you into a crooked hug. You embrace her, your heart beating with joy. You haven’t been this happy in forever. You haven’t seen her this excited in just as long. 

She lets you go and to your surprises, stays standing. She groans as she stretches her arms and shifts around. She rolls her walker away from the side of the chair and leans on it. She’s not moving too bad. She wheels around you to the table and you follow. 

“There is one thing. I have to be there at six,” you explain, “so I might have to get you up early--” 

“Uh uh, I’m not getting up before sunrise,” she scoffs as she flips open the lid of the box, “I can get myself up.” 

“Right, I know, Deli, but if you need anything, you can call--” 

“Hey,” she takes a cookie out and considers it, “you need this job.” Her mouth slants as she looks at you, “we both need you to have this job. I’m not stupid,” she glances back at the cookie, “this is really cute. You did this?” 

“Uh, yeah, part of the interview,” you say, “it was... different. Nice place though. Family business, I think? His daughter works there.” 

“Ah, some old dude, huh?” Delaney angles herself to sit on the dining chair with her special cushion. “Fun.” 

“I guess he’s older. Big.” 

“Fat?” She chuckles. 

“Don’t be mean,” you shake your head, “tall... and a bit... pudgy, I guess.” 

“Huh, well, that’s not too bad. Better than some slave driver. Can’t be too bad if he gives you free cookies.” She takes a bite and her eyes nearly roll back as she hums, “oh my god!” She says through a mouthful and swallows, “these are so good. Have you tried one yet?” 

“No, I... my stomachs all knotted up.” 

“You got it, relax. Have a cookie before I eat them all,” she shoves the box towards you. 

“Alright,” you take one and nibble along the edge. You take a large bite as the sweetness crumbles onto your tongue. You cover your mouth as you nearly moan. She wasn’t being dramatic. “Oh god.” 

“Right?” She breaks off another piece, “this is like sex in my mouth.” 

“Ew,” you scrunch your nose up at her. 

“What? I ain’t no prude,” she scoffs, “actually, I've been talking to this guy online.” 

“Del,” you warn her. 

“I’m an adult,” she snaps. 

“I know,” you say, “I’m not saying anything except be careful. I remember Colin.” 

“Mm,” she frowns, “so do I. Jackass.” She reaches for another cookie, “you better bring home more of these.” 

“Uh huh,” you swipe the box towards you and close it up, “and you better slow down. You haven’t even had dinner.” 

“You are such an old lady,” she whines. 

“One of us has to be the mature one,” you sniff. 

“That’s fine. I like being the fun one,” she chortles and takes a massive bite, “mph, I could live off of these.” 

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Elliott Quotes

sunshine and elliott reunion WHENNNN?? @selene567 he’s hereee, sorry it took a while ♡

“I wanna snuggle okay? Sue me.”

“I was kind of joking earlier when I said they gave off culty vibes, but I don’t think it’s a joke at this point.”

“My powers can do more than just bring you peaceful sleep. I love them for their ability to do that, but they can also bring you wonder, and mystery, and strength, and joy. They’re yours, Sunshine. Always.”

“I’m glad you think it’s beautiful. But if you ask me—and if you won’t, I will—I think you are so much more amazing than any dreamscape I could create.”

“Do I have to send you back to your self-inflicted grocery store hell?”

“Since when do you have to date somebody to cuddle them? I mean that just seems like you are drastically reducing your list of potential cuddle partners for no reason.”

“I mean if I just come out and say it, I’ll be denying us both the opportunity for at least a few more years of reciprocated but undisclosed pining for one another that could easily be solved by an honest conversation but one that neither of us is prepared to make for fear of rejection…”

“It wasn’t a game to me. You aren’t a game and you aren’t some prize to win.”

“I call you Sunshine because that’s what you feel like to me. Like warmth. Like a guiding light. I literally smile when I think about you like some hallmark bullshit.”

“God, you’re fucking cute.”

“You’re all I have now Aaron, please help.”

“Congratulations. You unlocked a portion of my tragic backstory, brave traveler.”

“‘Yes’? That’s all I get? Well sure, it’s enough, but where’s the weeping, where’s the drama, where’s you cutting me off with a kiss like some kind of movie? OW, why are you hitting me?”

“Thank you, Sunshine. Well… for giving me a chance. A decision you very well may come to regret, but if that’s the case, it’s really not my problem.”

“I’m working on it, I promise. For you.”

“I think people are beautiful because they’re complex, and they can surprise you in a million little ways, every day.”

“I’m probably pronouncing half of these wrong, because, ya know. I’m trash.”

“That one there—that’s called Caelum. It’s one of the dimmest ones. It’s not a very exciting one, the name just means chisel. But the word also means Heaven, or Sky. I like that. It’s just a little guy, but… I feel like it’s got some cool secrets.”

“The dreams are always sweet when you’re in them.”

“I just want them to be safe.”

“Sorry, baby. Kiss to make it better.”

“I love my powers. But the waking reality that I have with you is so much better than the things I make. Because that reality is true. And I’ve got you in it.”

“‘Slew’ is a word, shut up.”

“Urgency? You say that like I'm annoyed my Starbucks order is taking a while, this is my partner's life we're talking about, ‘urgency’ doesn't begin to describe it.”

“No. No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I know you, sunshine. I trust you.”

“If they’ve been trying to use you in some way, I’ll make their life a living hell. They’ll wish they could wake up.”

“We’ll… figure this out. Together. That’s the part that I care about. You, Sunshine.”

“Fuck physics, fuck law of nature, just give me M. C. Escher, baby”

“Oh you think I sound whiny now? You don’t know how whiny I can get.”

“Oh good. I wanna hold you as I pass the fuck out.”

“Hey, but then again, we also might just get some looks because people know a power couple when they see one.”

“This feels like the magical equivalent to ‘we’ve been trying to reach you about your vehicle’s extended warranty’, just now with a fun culty, closed-community spin.”

“You feel good. No improvements necessary there. Well I mean maybe there are a few things I could fix—“

“Fuck off, Blake!”

“I know you hate me, you don’t have to remind me.”

“I’m just here for good dreams and good vibes, you know?”

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

[chrisevansonly]

Daddy's Girl

Dad!Chris Evans x WifeReader

Summary: Even at 4 months old your sweet baby girl is so enamoured and in love with her dad, just like she is for him. His entire world in his arms whenever he has the chance, getting to see your husband be a father is one of the best gifts you’ve ever received

Warnings: None! Tooth rotting fluff, Dad!Chris because we love that, yeah it's just a whole comfort fic let's be honest

A/N: My last fic made me lowkey mad so I decided to rectify that with a sweet, self indulgent dad chris fic because thinking of him being a dad just makes my heart so happy, and yeah. It did make me slightly sad because I wish I had a dad like this, and growing up with abuse happening to me from the ages of 4 to 23, I truthfully don’t know what love like this feels like, but I hope I captured it to some extent

Word Count: 912

Sweet little Arlie Mae Evans came into your lives four months ago and ever since that day has brought nothing but smiles and endless love to your home. She was the light of your lives, and the absolute apple of her father’s eye, Chris would do anything in the world for his baby girl, just like he would for you. The day you gave birth to the four pound three ounce bundle of joy, Chris was beside himself, his usually calm composer replaced by tears of happiness as he held onto you, thanking you repeatedly for giving him the gift of a daughter. Seeing him as a father was an absolute dream come true, just like watching them right now as Arlie lay in her little plastic bathtub that rested in the sink. Warm water falling gently from a plastic cup Chris held in his hand, onto her soft little chubby belly, a gummy smile on her face as her blue eyes searched around the room”

you love bath time don’t you little bird..just like your momma”

Standing in the entrance of the kitchen to let them have their space, you couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that spread throughout you, the sight before your eyes enough to bring tears to your eyes, but you held them back 

“My Arlie girl, you have no idea just how special you are to us yet, someday you will princess, I’ll make sure to tell you every day about how much we love you, every hour if you want” 

You smiled watching him rub his thumb along her tiny cheek before kissing her forehead gently. After watching for a few more minutes, you grabbed her fluffy bear towel and walked over, placing a hand on his back so you wouldn’t startle him, Arlie’s eyes lighting up when she realized you were there 

“Who’s that baby huh? That momma bringing us a nice fluffy towel? Yeah, she’s gonna bundle you up really good” 

You leaned into his shoulder, his lips pressing a kiss to your head before you lay the towel against your shoulder and lifted your little girl up and into your arms, the brown fabric of the towel engulfing her tiny body as she rested against you, head laying on your collarbone

“Sweet angel, did you have a good bath with daddy? You smell all nice and clean”

You rubbed a hand on her back softly on the way over to the couch where you had a sleeper waiting for her, a pout on her face when the cold air hit her, causing you to coo at her to try and distract her 

“I know honey, I know it’s cold, one second baby…”

You put her in her sleeper as gently but quickly as possible because she started to squirm and the room filled with little cries, that thankfully did not turn into louder sobs, you hated when that happened, your heart tightening listening to her crying, you wanted to make sure she had whatever she needed to keep her happy and healthy. Once she was zipped up you picked her up and cradled her to you, leaning back into the soft cushions of the couch, her eyes beginning to close as you pulled a blanket up and over the two of you. Smiling down at her you barely registered Chris walking into the room with a cup of tea for you and some snacks, pausing to admire the two of you cuddled up 

“I will never get over the sight of my girls bundled up on the couch, I could frame this moment”

You blushed patting the spot beside you, lifting the blanket to let him slide under and over to you, turning your back to lean against him so he could wrap his arms around you. Moments like these since Arlie was born being the focal point of each and every day no matter good or bad, your little family was everything and more 

“I love you, thank you for taking such good care of us my love”

You tilted your head back enough to connect your lips to Chris’s before settling back against his shoulder blade 

“I will always do everything in my power to keep you two safe, healthy, and happy, I love you so much angel, there are no words to describe how thankful I am for you, and for our daughter. You allowing me to be a father and a parent with you, is something I will cherish for the rest of my life.”

At his words you felt the emotion bubble in your throat, Chris has always had a way with words when it came to you but seeing him be a father in action each and every day only solidified just how much he cared for and loved you and Arlie. You two were the luckiest girls on the planet just as he’d say he’s the luckiest man on the planet. Chris as a dad was something you’d both talked about in the 6 years you were together before she came along, and as you both snuggled up on the couch, all those conversations and wishes of a family you both talked of, had come full circle. You had your own version of the picture perfect family, and in this quiet moment as the fire crackled softly, and an old movie played in the background, you had found your happiness, and you had found your home.