#It's just endlessly frustrating when they tell me to not parent him

[palettepainter]

Parents: Don't parent your brother Me: Parent your son

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part four

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mattheo is in an awful mood after the party while Theo takes reader to the peony field.

Word Count: 4772

Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Theo get into it. Reader overthinks for a little bit. Mentions of drugging? One mention of Y/n. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 I can't tell you how nervous I am to post this, I feel like it's not my best work. But regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you endlessly!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“Did something happen last night between you and Mattheo?” Pansy asks, throwing the door open with an expectant look. Despite your low mood, you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of her—hair a tousled mess, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She’s the perfect picture of someone who had way too much fun last night.

“Is there any particular reason you’re asking?” You reply cautiously, eyes following her as she saunters over and slips into bed beside you. She gives the blanket a hard tug, leaving you to huff in irritation when she claims more than her fair share.

“Because I heard him and Veronica fighting. I didn’t catch much, but I did hear your name.” Pansy looks you over, taking in your rumpled clothes and tired eyes. You’re not in much better shape than she is, and she can’t tell if it’s the lingering effects of last night’s drinks or the aftermath of whatever happened with Mattheo.

“Merlin,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed. You haven’t moved since Theo left about twenty minutes ago, and you’re not sure if you’ll find the energy to do so anytime soon. Honestly, the idea of staying curled up here is more tempting than you’d like to admit. “We got into it again last night.”

“Again?” Pansy raises an eyebrow, shifting to face you.

“Apparently, he does care.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

“He told you that?” Pansy shifts so quickly it’s as if you’ve shocked her. Both of you know very well that Mattheo isn’t the type to open up about what he’s feeling. Years of watching him around his parents taught you why—with how many times you had seen them scold him for even a flicker of emotion, it was no wonder he kept everything locked up.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling, “He said he wanted me to admit I have feelings for him too.” Pansy’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in disbelief.

“Feeling for him too?” She echoes, and you finally turn to meet her eyes with a weak nod. Your best friend sits there for a moment, studying your face carefully before choosing her next words. She knows she has a nasty habit of saying the first thing on her mind without considering that it might not be what you need to hear.

Pansy sits up, grabbing the pillow she was using and hugging it to her chest as she stares at you impatiently. She’s waiting to hear if you’ve finally told the boy you’ve been head over heels for, for years, that you like him too. “Well? Did you?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Please, tell me it’s for the reason I’m thinking.” She all but begs, her eyes wide with hope.

You let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know when I stopped having feelings for him, Pans. I didn’t even realize I’d lost them until he asked me to tell him I felt the same, and there was just...”

“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.

A pause hangs between you as you search for the right words.

You hardly slept last night; your mind raced with thoughts of the past few months, trying to pinpoint when and how your feelings faded so quietly. You had liked Mattheo for so long, even convinced yourself that maybe you even loved him.But how could you truly love someone who was so closed off? Sure, he turned to you when he was struggling, but that didn’t mean he ever shared what he was feeling. He liked your presence and relied on you to be there whenever he needed support, but he never trusted you enough to truly let you in.

Not in the way you wanted, at least.

If he wasn’t comfortable with his own emotions, there was no way he would be able to handle yours. Maybe that was the heart of it—the realization that he would never fully open up to you, and that had kept you from falling in love with him. And maybe that was the best thing that could have happened, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it was to come to terms with at the beginning.

Then there was Theo. Who had promised to help you get over Mattheo, and from that moment on, he was there for you without hesitation. He held your hand whenever you needed it, and honestly, you had begun to lean on him a bit too much—being close to him had become your favorite feeling. He never made it feel like supporting you was a chore; instead, he made it seem like something he had always longed to do.

In truth, everything had changed for you. Spending time with Theo was no longer just a way to distract yourself from Mattheo; it became where you wanted to be. Being around him made you feel safe and accepted in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

And that was absolutely terrifying.

You sit up abruptly, fully facing Pansy, “When you said that you thought Theo would give me everything if I let him, did you mean that?”

“Babes,” she begins, sending you a soft smile. “I’ve always thought you would be good for Mattheo. You bring something out in him; he’s happiest when he’s around you. Veronica seemed to make him happy at first—” she adds with a snort—“but nowhere near the level you do.”

“But with Theo…” Pansy trails off. “I’ve never seen you so happy—and not the kind of happy you were with Mattheo. It’s not the relief of him not having a one-night stand or flirting with you a bit bolder at a party. It’s genuine happiness; you’re truly yourself. Theo brings out a different side of you, and you do that for him, too.”

Glancing over at the vase of red peonies, battling the tightness in your throat and the sting in your eyes. You decide you’d rather not spend the day in bed.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Since last night, Theo has been struggling to push away the thought that maybe the idea of you having feelings for him isn’t so far-fetched. Especially after you’d implied that the two of you were together to the girl who’d tried to flirt with him. The way you’d intertwined your fingers with his, staking a silent claim that he was off-limits, had left him reeling. There was no way you’d be so possessive if you didn’t feel the same. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself all morning.

And then there was the way you hadn’t been able to answer Mattheo about your feelings. Theo’s whole heart had been in his throat as he waited for you to tell Mattheo that you did have feelings for him, that you’d had them for years. But you hadn’t answered.

In a way, though, you had, hadn’t you? You’d pushed past Mattheo without a word and gone straight to him.

“Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade or not?” Enzo nudges Theo, pulling him out of his thoughts. The boys had all planned to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, a plan set firmly in stone since last weekend. But when Theo saw you this morning, he couldn’t hold back. On impulse, he asked if you wanted to spend some time together, suggesting—almost shyly—that he could finally show you where he’d been getting the peonies.

“No, I’ve got plans.” Theo shrugs, and Draco sends him an irritated look from the opposite couch.

“We made plans.” Draco huffs, clearly agitated with the change. He always hated it when the boys ditched at the last second.

“Something came up.” Theo sighs, hoping that he’ll let it go quickly. He’s well aware that Mattheo should be coming down the stairs at any second. Enzo had told them that he was taking forever to get ready, probably hungover from last night. 

“You mean your girl.” Blaise corrects, and Draco looks disgusted. His head swings back to look at Theo.

“You’re ditching us for her? Mate, that’s pathetic.” Draco scoffs. “She isn’t even your girlfriend.”

“She’s pretty damn close.” Blaise points out, and Theo tries his best to ignore the feeling that jolts through him when he thinks of you as his girlfriend.

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything—not that he would have—before Mattheo walks over to join the group. He claps a hand on Draco’s shoulder, only for Draco to shrug him off irritably. “C’mon,” Mattheo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the others rise, stretching and adjusting their robes, Theo remains seated, gaze fixed on the fireplace in front of him. Mattheo pauses, giving him a puzzled look, one brow lifting in question. “You’re not coming?”

“No.” Theo answers curtly, clearly uninterested in extending the conversation. The truth is, he hasn’t spoken to Mattheo in quite a while, and when they do, it’s nothing but tension—a quiet frustration simmering beneath each exchange.

Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”

“He’s got plans with his girl,” Draco interjects with a roll of his eyes, impatience seeping into his voice. “Now, can we go? We’ve waited long enough for you as it is.”

“Wait. Hold on,” Mattheo turns to face him fully, and Draco huffs when he realizes they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. “Your girl?”

“You know what he means.” Blaise interjects calmly, his eyes shifting to Mattheo as he watches tension coil through his stance.

Mattheo gives a casual shrug, though his jaw tightens. “No, Blaise, I really don’t.”

Theo huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands, making to push past. “Why the hell do you even care?”

Mattheo’s hand snaps out, stopping him mid-step. “You know why I care.”

Theo’s gaze darkens, voice low. “Oh, you mean because of your feelings for her?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Does your girlfriend know that you told Y/n you’ve always liked her?”

Theo’s eyes flicker over Mattheo’s shoulder, catching the shared looks between Blaise, Enzo, and Draco. There’s no shock in their expressions—only a knowing look as if they’d been bracing for this moment all along. It’s unsettling, the way they seem almost resigned, like they’ve seen the tension building between him and Mattheo from a mile away.

Mattheo scoffs, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice. “Did she go and tell you everything I said?”

Theo raises a brow, “No, I overheard you. But even if she did, what does it matter to you?”

Matteo narrows his eyes, “Because I care about her.”

“Bullshit. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have put her in that position last night.”

“I care about her more than you think.” Mattheo bites out, and the boys watch carefully as Mattheo takes another step forward.

“Right,” Theo scoffs, “You care so much you went and found yourself another girl.”

Theo sees it before Mattheo even speaks—the subtle shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to—”

“So you weren’t ready for her? But you were for Veronica? I don’t get it. You can’t just expect her to always be there when you finally figure out what you want.”

Mattheo laughs in disbelief, “I wasn’t waiting, I—”

“Then what the hell were you doing?” Theo’s voice sharpens. “You had years to tell her how you felt, and you didn’t say anything. Then you get a girlfriend, she starts spending time with me, and all of a sudden, you care? Leave her alone and quit messing with her.”

“I’m not fucking messing with her—”

“You are. You’ve been doing it for years.” Theo’s eyes flash with frustration, and suddenly he feels the urge to make it clear that he wants you—that he always has, and Mattheo isn’t the only one. “She deserves better than someone who can’t make up their mind. She deserves to be someone’s first choice.”

Mattheo’s expression hardens and his tone drops. “And that’s you?”

Theo doesn’t have the chance to answer, because Veronica’s shriek causes both their heads to snap in her direction, “Matty!”

Theo watches as Mattheo steps back, anger giving way to frustration, a quiet curse slipping from his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Veronica strides forward, pushing right past Blaise and Enzo without a second glance. Blaise shoots her an agitated look, irritation flashing in his eyes as she barrels through.

“I thought you said you guys were going to Hogsmeade.” Veronica smiles, reaching out to take Mattheo’s hand, but he subtly pulls away, dodging her touch with a flicker of impatience in his eyes.

“We are.” He grumbles under his breath, but Veronica keeps smiling sweetly, unfazed, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just blatantly brushed off her attempt to hold his hand. Mattheo turns to leave, muttering something to the boys, likely a brief comment about their plans.

Theo watches as an agitated Mattheo strides out of the common room, with the boys trailing behind him. But the boys glance back at Theo, their expressions a mix of caution and confusion. Theo turns to leave as well, but Veronica’s voice stops him, soft and pointed, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You should tell your girlfriend that last night was a mistake,” she murmurs, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Mattheo thought she was me; you know how he gets after a few too many drinks.”

Theo thinks about correcting her, letting her know that he doesn’t really know what she means at all. From what he saw last night, Mattheo was tipsy—not that drunk—and Theo has had enough years of experience to tell the difference. But instead, he shrugs it off, deciding he’d rather find you than spend any more time in the common room.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Hogsmeade is that way.” You say, a bit confused, gesturing in the opposite direction as you walk beside Theo.

“I know.” He replies simply, his gaze flickering back to the trail that you’ve never gone down before. Honestly, you had no idea it even existed. It’s evident that this path isn’t used often, as moss and grass have claimed most of the walkway. Vibrant wildflowers dot the sides, their colors brightening the greenery around them. 

He’s been quiet for most of the walk, which feels strange; you’re not used to this side of him. The more time you’ve spent with Theo, the more he’s opened up—sharing memories of his late mum, the weight of his father’s expectations, and his hopes for the future. These walks, where you slowly unravel each other’s stories, have become your thing, something that only the two of you share.

You frown slightly, glancing at him as you try to piece it together. “But I thought you said you got the flowers from a shop.”

“I never said that.” Theo’s lips curve into that soft, gentle smile that never fails to send your stomach into a flutter. “I said I’d take you with me the next time I went to get some. I never said it was in Hogsmeade.”

It takes you a second, too enamored with the view in front of you for it all to click. The walk isn’t long, but as you continue down the path, you spot a patch of red ahead. It stands out against the greenery, a cluster of flowers blooming a pretty, vibrant hue. You can’t quite tell what kind they are, but when you glance at Theo, you notice the way his eyes flicker nervously, and it suddenly feels like you’re walking toward something important.

But then it hits you all at once: “They’re peonies.”

On instinct, you grab Theo’s hand, giving it a playful tug to urge him along toward the blooms. He lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, and a warmth fills you as his earlier mood seems to lift, the tension in his shoulders fading.

When you reach the edge of the flower field, you pause, still holding Theo’s hand as your gaze lingers over the vibrant blooms stretching out before you. Theo glances at you, heart beating a little faster as he wonders what you’re thinking, but he brushes aside his nerves and releases your hand, shrugging off his jacket to lay it carefully on the ground. You murmur to him, urging him not to squish any of the flowers, and Theo smiles, his expression softening as he gently reassures you that he won’t.

There isn’t much room on his jacket, so you find yourself pressed against Theo’s side—though you don’t mind in the slightest. He’s leaned back on his hands, while you sit cross-legged beside him.

The quiet is soothing, broken only by the soft chatter of birds and the occasional hum of an insect drifting from flower to flower. The warmth of the sun on your skin feels heavenly, its heat a welcome contrast to the long, cold months that have passed.

“Is this why you left? The first night you stayed with me?” You ask, glancing to the right to watch his reaction. 

From where you’re seated, you can see how the sunlight catches every small detail of his face, highlighting any imperfections. There’s the faint mole on his cheekbone, his dark lashes that you’re secretly jealous of, and the thin scar along his chin from when he fell off his broom as a kid. Another mark splits through his brow—a scar whose origin he could never quite remember, but has always just been there. It tugs at you, knowing you can recall the origins of his faded scars. It might seem trivial, but it means he’s let you in, sharing parts of himself that not everyone gets to see.

Theo nods, “I had to go early in the morning to give them to Pansy. With practice later, it was the only chance I could.”

A smile creeps onto your face as you imagine Theo, slightly awkward but determined, handing over the bundle of flowers and the little card to Pansy, who no doubt teased him relentlessly. You’d had wondered how she noticed that Theo was different with you, especially when most of your time together was just the two of you. But now, hearing this, you understand perfectly how she recognized a side of him that only seems to surface around you.

“I didn’t want to leave, y’know.” Theo continues, finally glancing over at you, and the effect is instant—those watercolor eyes meet yours, sending a flutter through your stomach as you instinctively lean closer, feeling yourself melt into his side.

“The flowers made up for it,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Aside from you, they were the only thing that made me feel better.”

“Yeah?” Theo glances down at you, tucked into his side, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Hearing you say the flowers meant something to you eases any nerves he had—because they were never just a way to cheer you up. They were his quiet, unspoken way of telling you that he was there, that he cared. And that, despite your feelings for Mattheo, he was an option too.

“Yeah.” You confirm.

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Theo sat together, talking about whatever came to mind as you picked flowers. You gathered a few, but mostly you watched as Theo picked the ones he liked the most, adding to the small bundle that sat between you both. Watching him carefully select the prettiest flowers, knowing he was going to give them to you, made something shift inside you. If you hadn’t fully realized your feelings before, you were certain of them now.

You lost track of time with Theo, but eventually, he had to leave for practice. He handed you the freshly picked flowers and walked you back to the castle, stalling as if reluctant to say goodbye. In the end, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’ You didn’t want to say goodbye either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the reason Theo might get into trouble.

It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, leaning against the door with a giddy squeal, the flowers pressed to your chest, their scent lingering in the air, that the realization hit you. You should’ve kissed him. The thought made your stomach dip with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, you entertained the idea of running after him, catching him just before practice, and kissing him. Absentmindedly, your hand rises to trace your lips, lost in your racing thoughts. 

You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice Pansy at her desk, watching you with an amused look.

“You look like you had a good time.” Pansy smirks as you startle and send her a look before pushing away from the door.

“Pansy, I’m fucked.” You whine and she lets out a loud laugh.

“You were from the second he stayed the night with you.” You pause for a moment, letting the realization settle in, and as it does, you know she’s right. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe with someone—not in the way you did that night. Sure, you felt safe with Mattheo, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t compare to the way you felt when you were with Theo.

“Did you know he’s been picking me flowers?” You ask instead, setting the new bundle onto your desk before turning to face Pansy. 

“Oh, I knew.” Pansy hums, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. 

“How did I not notice?” You wonder aloud. 

“You were a little distracted.” Pansy shrugs, and you nod in agreement.

After Pansy tells you she’s meeting Blaise after practice, you briefly wonder if you should go with her. You sit on your bed, lost in thought, weighing the decision, but before you can make up your mind, Pansy is already gone.

As much as you want to see Theo, you hesitate, not wanting to assume that today meant as much to him as it did for you. It’s clear from the fact he’s been picking you flowers that he has feelings for you, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself or risk ruining something before it has a chance to begin. So, you stay in your dorm, trying to focus on an assignment you’ve been putting off for far too long, though your mind keeps drifting back to him.

So when you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat, and before you can think, you’re off your bed and rushing to the door. You know exactly who is on the other side and your stomach flutters in anticipation. You pause just before opening it, taking a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, willing yourself to appear composed. 

You pull the door open, forcing a casual smile as you try to sound unaffected. “Hi,” you say, though your voice betrays the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

Theo stands in front of you, one hand holding onto the doorframe. His hair is a tousled mess, and his cheeks are flushed—whether from practice or the rush of seemingly running here, you can’t quite tell.

And when he looks up at you, he’s out of breath and looks downright impatient, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You pause, thrown off and completely caught off guard. That was not what you expected him to say, and your mind spirals into the worst possible conclusions. Was he regretting what happened earlier? Apologizing for showing you the flowers, or for picking some for you? Giving you flowers at all? Maybe his feelings for you weren’t strong enough, or perhaps he only thought he had them? The thought that it could be too soon after your feelings for Mattheo crossed your mind, even though you’d started moving on from him months ago, gnaws at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, releasing the doorframe and stepping forward, one step, then another. He pauses, giving you a moment to pull away if you need to, but you stay rooted to the spot, unable to move. Theo stands so close now that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. He reaches up, and your breath catches when his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his hand settling just below your ear. His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words makes your heart stutter. “I should’ve kissed you, dolcezza.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he steps even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. “All through practice, all I could think about was you. The moment I walked away, I just wanted to turn around and kiss you.” His voice drops to a whisper, low and thick with a longing that sends shivers down your spine.

You murmur his name softly, but he’s barely listening, his gaze intense as he leans in slightly, his lips just inches from yours. “Fuck, you’ve been on my mind for months—years, if I’m being honest. I feel like I’m losing my mind, wondering if you feel even a fraction of what I do.” His hand still lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through you as if he’s waiting for something—waiting for you to say what he’s too afraid to ask.

It’s you who closes the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, fervent kiss that catches him off guard, pulling a surprised moan from deep in his throat. His body reacts instantly, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. The sound he makes causes a rush of warmth to flood your veins. He’s hardly touched, and you’re already too warm, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You let him guide you backward, the pressure of his hand firm against your back until your steps falter just inside your dorm. Every inch of him feels like fire against your skin, and your previous worries fade into nothing.

Once you’re inside, he kicks the door closed with a thud but the sound barely registers. Without any hesitation, he presses you back against the door, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. But you want him closer. Somuch closer. One hand rests flat against the door beside your head, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Then, it’s him who leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that deepens with an aching intensity. There’s no rush now—just an overwhelming wave of longing, a perfect culmination of the emotions you’ve both held back. Your head spins, your heart races, and you’re certain that if you could take your temperature in this moment, it would be burning hot.

But then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath heavy and uneven. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You feel the urge to close the distance between you again, to press your lips to his, because there’s something about the way Theo kisses that leaves you breathless, already craving more. But then again, maybe it’s just him—the way his touch makes a thrill course through you.

“I wanted you to kiss me before you left—”

The door jolts against your back, halting you mid-sentence as Pansy’s voice cuts through the moment. “What the hell? Open the door.” You hold your breath, hoping that if you stay silent, she might forget the whole thing and simply go away.

But that’s wishful thinking: “Babes. Please open the door.”

“I thought you were hanging out with Blaise.” You call back, stealing a glance at Theo, whose expression mirrors your own surprise. Before leaving practice, he’d told Blaise to keep Pansy distracted—he wanted time with you because he had planned on telling you exactly how he felt about you.

“It’s about Mattheo.” Your brows raise is surprise at the intensity in Pansy’s voice and you fling open the door without another thought.

“What’s wrong?” Theo stands behind you, watching the way your face turns nervous.

“Veronica’s been giving him a love potion,” she says softly, her eyes studying your face as it twists in disbelief. “He’s in the infirmary... and he’s asking for you.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie's gorgeous ex-girlfriend arrived with a proposition, and when he was hesitant to refuse it, everything the two of you have been holding back boiled over. (4.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, panic attack, vomiting, parental conflict, poverty, insecurities, secret relationship, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @word-wytch for helping me with Eddie's mannerisms 💚

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter fourteen: burned

Babe.

She called him ‘babe,’ that one word laced with more than friendliness. There was a history behind it, a sultriness, all of it seeming so natural.

There was no air left to breathe; of this, you were almost certain. Your lungs constricted around nothing, shoved tight behind your ribs with nowhere to expand. 

She called him babe. And she kissed him. 

On the cheek, on the lips—it didn’t matter. She had kissed him and it didn’t sound like he’d attempted to stop her. Nor had he corrected her when she’d called the motel a shithole. His ex-girlfriend showed up and called your home–and his–a shithole, and he’d all but agreed with her.

And she called him babe.

You were going to be sick, your head spinning from the myriad emotions coursing through it. Anger, frustration, confusion, sadness, and envy stirred up a fatal cocktail that had you retching into the wastebasket next to the desk.

A door swung open, and you prayed that it was Mom or Dad, already formulating a believable reason as to why you were suddenly throwing up. Must’ve eaten something that disagreed with me; I’ll be fine–

“Heiress?”

Of course it was Eddie. Of course. His footsteps got faster as he heard you throwing up, barely audible through the blood pulsing in your ears. Before you knew it, he was crouching down beside you, one hand gently stroking your back, your shirt now soaked through with sweat.

You wrenched away, shrugging off his touch and wiping your lips. “Don’t touch me.” Your voice was hoarse from sickness and hurt.

Eddie flinched at your gruff demeanor, toppling backwards onto his jean-clad bottom with a soft oof. “Heiress, it’s fine. I’m not afraid of a little–”

“No!” You found your emotional footing, grounding yourself in anger rather than shaking it off. The last thing you needed was for him to see you as vulnerable. Even worse, pitiful. “Leave me alone.”

You couldn’t look at him without seeing her, so beautiful and badass. Everything he wanted and more. Had he blushed when she kissed him? Had his hand slid around her waist to pull her closer, to breathe in her perfection? The thought sent your stomach roiling, and it took a mountain of force to keep from getting sick again.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “I can get you some ginger ale, o-or some water–”

You shook your head subtly lest you rouse another round of nausea. “I said leave me alone,” you said through gritted teeth. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and you were disgusted with yourself for wishing he would kiss them away. “I’m fine.”

Babe. With a kiss.

“At least let me take out the trash.”

“Can you just fucking go?” You whirled around to finally face him, your heart momentarily lurching at his recoil. “You can probably still catch up with your girlfriend. She just left.”

“My…” Eddie cocked his head with a naivety that had you simultaneously wanting to comfort and smack him. “Who, Fiona?”

Logically, you knew she had a name, but hearing him say it still made everything worse. Fiona. 

“Yeah, her,” you spat. Just because you knew her name didn’t mean you had to say it.

A disbelieving chuckle escaped Eddie’s lips, half-hearted in its landing. “She’s not my girlfriend, Heiress.” His voice had a prickly edge to it, and it made you feel slightly less guilty about your own snappiness. 

“Did you tell her that?” Frustration flamed behind your eyes. “Because I heard her call you ‘babe’ and give you a kiss.”

You summoned all of your strength and pushed yourself up to standing. Eddie followed suit, though he didn’t need to lean on the desk to keep himself upright like you did. 

“Christ.” He raked his fingers through his curls. “It was a kiss on the cheek. It’s not like we were frenching in the hallway.”

The visual alone might have sent you back to the trash can, but you held your composure. What was left of it, anyway. 

“And what about her calling you ‘babe’?”

He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, an act of innocence. “Probably just out of habit from when she was…y’know…”

My girlfriend. He didn’t need to say the words aloud; you filled in the blanks without any assistance. 

“But you didn’t correct her.” You were being petty, and while you hated yourself for it, you also couldn’t stop it. A dam had been broken, and the rupture unleashed all of the frustration and confusion that you’d kept bottled up. 

From outside, a car blared its horn loud enough to startle you. Eddie brought his hand out to comfort you, almost instinctively, before he remembered you were mid-argument and let it drop to his side. 

“Honestly,” he exhaled, “I wasn’t really paying attention when she said that.”

Your stomach soured. If he wasn’t listening to the words she was saying, then what was his mind occupied with? Images of him stampeded through your head: Eddie lusting over bow-shaped lips, the subtle swell of her breasts beneath her tank top, the way her denim miniskirt emphasized the curve of her ass…all while you stood behind the desk none the wiser. 

You shoved the implication aside. “Why was she here? How did she even know you were here?”

Eddie’s nails scratched along the desk, the only sound for a few seconds until he spoke again. “I talked to her after they did their show at Webster Hall.” 

How could you have forgotten that show—the one he was at the night someone vandalized Eisen’s. 

“I told her where I was staying, gave her the room number. She took a chance and stopped by tonight.”

“For what?” You quickly assessed his clothes; nothing seemed to be rumpled or unbuttoned that would indicate any below-the-belt activities. 

Eddie caught your eyes roving his body, and not in the hungry, desire-filled way you had looked at him earlier today. 

“She asked me to rejoin the band,” he said quietly. “They want me back for their tour.” 

Rejoin the band for their tour. If the tabloid article was accurate, that meant he’d be leaving within the next few weeks. 

Your silence spoke volumes. Eddie huffed out a laugh thick with venom. “Wow, thanks for your enthusiasm. Really amps up my excitement.”

“It’s just…a lot to process.” You picked at your lower lip, the bit of dry skin suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. “Do they want you back permanently? Or just until Caleb Dalton gets out of rehab?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped back, protecting an open wound. “What are you talking about? Who’s going to rehab?”

Shit. You screwed your eyes shut, but there was no more feigning ignorance. He had to know the truth, and you had to be the one to break it to him. 

And so you told him everything: the public intoxication arrest, the rehab stay, the threat it posed to the band’s future. When he asked how you knew all of this, you were honest about that, too. 

“So, wait.” Eddie held up his forefinger to stop you, though you’d already run out of words to say. “You knew about this stuff since our first date? And then you read the article today? And you never thought to tell me about any of it?” 

Shame snaked its way through your veins, heating you from the inside. Fresh tears pricked at your eyes, and you forced yourself to blink them back. You knew you should have told him; maybe not during that first date, but certainly in the days following. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t had the opportunity. Even spotting that article this afternoon brought up the perfect moment. 

But you’d let your cowardice take over, and now you were paying the price.

“I wasn’t sure what to say.” It was a pathetic excuse, and you both knew it.

Eddie raked his fingers through his hair, snagging them on a knotted curl. “How about, ‘hey, Eddie, did you hear about what’s going on with your old band?’ Or you could’ve come right out with it, something like, ‘your replacement is in rehab, just so you know.’” He shook his head in stunned disbelief, his nostrils flaring with each word. “Anything, Heiress. Anything!”

You winced at his increasing volume. “Eddie, maybe we should talk about this another–”

“No!” He hissed through gritted teeth. “No, I’m so fucking sick and tired of waiting. Waiting for you to tell your parents about us, waiting for another big break, waiting for something to finally go right for once in my stupid life!” He slammed his fist on the desk, rattling the old wood and your nerves, veins pulsing in his forearm. “I’m such a goddamn idiot. I should’ve been saving up every penny to get back home, but I stuck around here for…for someone who doesn’t give a shit about me.”

Every part of you ached to refute that statement, to insist that you did care about him. But it wouldn’t be of any use; he’d already made up his mind that he meant nothing to you. And what did you have to disprove him? The way fear kept you from telling your parents the truth? The constant sneaking around to avoid the inevitable confrontation that came with them discovering the real relationship between you and Eddie?

“And every time I ask you about it, it’s always ‘soon,’ or ‘I’m going to.’” Eddie continued, his jaw twitching as he inhaled. “I might as well be back in high school, hooking up with cheerleaders behind their boyfriends’ backs, acting like nothing happened between us.” He looked at you with utter disgust. “At least they had a decent excuse. You’re just selfish.”

“Selfish?” Of all of the words used to describe you, good or bad, selfish hadn’t ever been one of them. “I’m…no, I’m not–”

The scent of stale cigarette smoke choked you. “Well, what would you call it, then? What would you call stringing me along while you weave your little web of lies?” He leaned in, though there was no need with how loud he was speaking. “I thought we were a team, Heiress. And a damn good one at that. But you were playing by yourself this whole fucking time.”

Your throat went dry, your body hollow. You were selfish. You spent so much time worried about the potential backlash that you never considered how he felt. 

Eddie didn’t stop, not even when the tears rolled down your cheeks. “You know what I think?” He pressed his lips into a thin line, like he knew he should suppress what he was about to say but no longer could hold back. “I think you can’t handle people following their dreams when you’re too scared to follow yours. I think you liked having me here because that meant I wasn’t out there trying to be a ‘superstar.’” He hooked his fingers to make air-quotes. 

“But I’m done with your games, Heiress. I’m done pretending to just be the handyman you happen to get along with. I’m done with you.”

A response, a retort, a poignant Fuck off all stayed lodged in your throat. Only the sound of a door swinging open echoed through the motel. 

Shit. Your parents. They must’ve woken up from the arguing and—

“What the hell is going on out here?” Phyllis’s rough, irritated voice called out. Her robe was half-open, the top of one freckled breast visible. She had her trusty bat raised, ready to fight, but when she saw the commotion was only you and Eddie, her posture loosened. “Jesus Christ, I thought someone was trying to…never mind.” She shook her head and scowled. “If you two don’t learn to keep it down, then I’ll just have to be louder.”

You and Eddie normally would have laughed and shot back a cheeky comment, but neither of you mustered up a joke. Phyllis had already turned back around to her room, figuring out how to salvage her client’s evening after the interruption. 

“I’m leaving anyway,” Eddie grumbled. The tips of his ears were pink from the sheer heat of his anger. 

“Leaving? Like, for good?” Your voice was so tiny that you barely heard it, and you were surprised that he did. Even more surprised that he didn’t pretend not to hear it and keep walking away. 

He sighed with the weight of the world. “Yeah, Heiress. For good.” He turned back to face you one last time, a serpentine bite in his tone. “And for what it’s worth, I liked when Fiona called me ‘babe.’ It was nice hearing someone say it without checking their surroundings first.”

So he had noticed it—the way you made sure your parents weren’t around before calling him a pet name or pressing a kiss to his waiting lips. You weren’t as subtle as you’d hoped, and he’d picked up on it. 

Eddie held his same stoic expression as he watched your face fall, your posture slumping in total defeat. His words were cruel, but they didn’t lack truth. And it didn’t mean you were ready to hear them. 

“Fuck you,” you said weakly. You no longer cared if he saw you cry. Shame over vulnerability couldn’t hold a candle to the loss you already felt, though he was still standing in front of you. “Just…fuck you. I should’ve left you on that bench.”

“Then who would be your charity case?” His brown eyes, usually soft and comforting, teasing, or filled with lust, held only rage now. “Who would you pretend to give a shit about?”

Insecurity chipped away at your minimal resolve to stay upright as you wondered what kind of eyes Fiona saw tonight. 

“Do you…” you sniffled, wishing you would just wake up and realize the whole argument was a dream. “Do you really think this was all pretend for me?”

Eddie paused for a moment, actually considering the possibility. Its mere feasibility was another dagger through your already broken heart. 

“Honestly, Heiress,” he finally said, “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

He left you in stunned silence, only the sounds of boulevard traffic filling the air. Life had been sucked out of the lobby, leaving it devoid of the lightheartedness it only began holding when Eddie came around. 

Before him, before that night, you were alone. You were lonely. It had only been two months since then, yet you found it impossible to remember a time before him. Tonight felt like the first time you’d ever spent a shift by yourself. 

What if you followed him back down the hall? What if you took his hand and held it, promising not to let go until you told your parents about the relationship? What if you peppered his face with kisses until his anger melted into something resembling forgiveness?

The young woman who you’d been on his first night in the motel would roll her eyes at the mess you’d become. She would have told you not to waste your efforts on a man, especially one who was so obviously a temporary fixture in your life. Dating a guest? One who had no connections to the city? It was destined for failure from the start. 

Maybe it was best if you let him be for the evening. Give him some time to cool down. Not to mention, you’d be leaving the desk unmanned if you followed him, and what a way that would be to break the news to your parents. 

Sorry I abandoned my job; I was just trying to keep my secret relationship with Eddie from ending. Did I mention that Uncle Mo and Aunt Tam caught up making out in the park?

Eddie didn’t leave his room for the rest of the night. You sighed with relief at six A.M. when Dad took the desk and there was no sign of Eddie. 

He probably fell asleep, you reasoned as you changed into your pajamas. I’ll talk to him when I wake up and we’ll work it out. 

You were done hiding your feelings. 

As you tumbled into bed, the weight of exhaustion somehow heavier than your guilt, you mentally sketched out your apology. No, it was more than an apology; it was a promise. A promise to proudly be his girl no matter who was watching. A promise to give him your heart with no stipulations. A promise to be the team he thought you always were. 

For the first time in a long time, you awoke before your alarm. Nerves fluttered in your belly as you got dressed. You threw on the nearest clean clothes you could find, lest you wimp out before you even left the room. 

Eddie, I’m so sorry. It’s me and you. I want it to be me and you. I’ll tell my parents about us right now so we don’t have to hide, because…I love you, Eddie Munson. I love the way you always pat your pocket for your cigarettes and lighter before you go anywhere. I love the way your tongue pokes out whenever you’re focused. I love the way you hold me, like I’m safe as long as you’re around. 

And then you’d kiss him, soft and slow, losing yourself in his touch with the intention of never again leaving him behind. 

Knock knock. 

No answer. 

Knock knock knock. 

Again, nothing. 

You waited for a few minutes—or maybe it was only a couple of seconds. Time crawled as you waited for him to answer. 

“Eddie?”

Silence. 

“Eddie?” One more, but louder. Loud enough to catch Dad’s attention from the lobby. 

Dad’s brows knit together. “Eddie left this morning around 6:30. He didn’t tell you?”

Dread rose in your esophagus and almost had you hurtling towards the trashcan again. 

Of course he left. Why wouldn’t he? What did he have to stay for? Did you actually expect him to give up the opportunity to tour for a life of motel repairs, subway station guitar shows, and a girlfriend afraid to have a public relationship?

“I assumed he told you…” The wrinkles in Dad's forehead became more pronounced with confusion. 

You cleared your throat and faked a laugh. “Oh, right. I must’ve forgotten.” You gave yourself a little bop on the head as if to say, silly me! “I, uh, should probably clean his room.”

Dad nodded and said something about the washing machine acting up, and to be cognizant of laundry load size. And despite what you now knew, your first instinct was to ask Eddie to fix it. 

Room four still smelled like his drugstore cologne and his cigarettes. In fact, that coupled with the used ashtray and the unmade bed were the only evidence that Eddie had been here at all. That this man hadn’t been a figment of your imagination for the past few months. 

Your eyes roved the room for something—anything—to indicate a hint of forgiveness from him. Something to tell you this leave was only temporary. Maybe a note or even the phone number of where he’d be staying. 

Probably with Fiona. 

Your lungs struggled for air, tightening with each shallow breath. You couldn’t reach your room fast enough. 

You pictured the two of them sharing a bed, limbs intertwined. He’ll look at her with love and desire: the talented badass girl he truly wanted. That he’d ever wasted time with someone who was quick to confront a stoned stranger but couldn’t lie to her parents would be a blip on his dating radar; a lapse in judgment he’d one day laugh off. 

If he wasn’t already laughing at you. 

July arrived a few weeks later with near-literal roaring flames. 

Independence Day brought a few extra guests to the motel, mostly young couples who booked last-minute getaways to see the Macy’s fireworks display. Raw envy bared its teeth with each affectionate touch and stolen kiss, and you’d had to hold back a biting remark every time you saw an exchange of intimate gestures. 

You and Eddie could have taken a moment to watch the fireworks display, his arms wrapped around you and his chin on your shoulder as colors lit up the sky. 

Heat came the week after. 

It ripped through the city; even the local weatherman’s warnings didn’t fully capture just how stifling it would be. 

A line of perspiration trickled down your back as you folded towels and placed them on the closet shelf. 

Mom was at the desk, a battery-operated oscillating fan doing its best to keep her cool. It stopped mid-rotation, and she smacked it to start it up again.

“Dad didn’t get the big one?” The batteries must nearly be drained after use for days on end. The corded one would be better, and would last longer than one reliant on batteries. 

Mom shook her head. “That thing sucks up electricity like a monster,” she said. “No use running up the bill over it. I’ll just pick up new batteries later.”

The mention of the motel’s financial decline sliced you open, and you quickly tried to patch the wound with a distraction. 

“I can go now.” Before Mom could protest, you plucked your wallet from your room. It was brutally hot outside, the humidity enveloping you the moment you opened the front door. But anything was better than staying home and creating imaginary scenarios where Eddie would come from around the corner, wearing his signature smirk. 

In some of your wilder daydreams, he wore little else. 

Outside wasn’t much better than inside, especially with the sun beating down, but a breeze blew by every so often that provided some relief. Kids played in the street, opening fire hydrants and splashing around. They had no reverence for the beauty of childhood summers. Not yet—that would come with time, when opportunities to cherish that innocence were solidly in the past. 

You and Ben used to play like that, your parents peering out of the motel window every so often to make sure you were both still there, still safe. Always looking out for you, even as you stretched into your teenage years and craved independence. 

You should call Ben and meet up again. Maybe invite Nora, too. They’d take your mind off of your never-ending and ever-growing list of mistakes. 

The trip to the convenience store was for naught, the cashier informing you that they were sold out of everything except for watch batteries. Same went for the next two stores you tried. Apparently everyone’s portable fans decided to crap out on the same day. 

Resignedly, you trudged back to the motel. Maybe you could convince Mom to use the corded fan, or at least tell you where it had been stashed so you could set it up during your shift. 

All thoughts of fan whereabouts disappeared when you got back to the motel and saw Mom and Dad standing at the desk. Dad kept his head down as though inspecting the scratched wood. Mom was the one glaring at you, an open envelope clutched in her hand. It bore a violet emblem on the top left-hand corner. 

“What is this?” She phrased it as a question, but her clenched jaw told you that she already knew the answer. 

“I-I don’t—”

Mom shook her head. “No. Don’t tell me you don’t know why you got a tuition bill from NYU.” She glanced once more at the logo. “From the Silberman School of Social Work, actually.”

You said nothing. Ever since Admitted Students’ Day, you always made sure to be around when the mail arrived. The one day you left, it arrived without warning. 

Dad spoke your name in a breath. “How did you get into a social work program if you majored in hospitality?”

And then there was that. No lie, no matter how tangled the web, could explain the cold, hard proof in front of them. 

Words poured out of you, barely giving you moments to breathe. 

“I meant to tell you–I wanted to tell you. It’s just…you’ve been counting on me to take over the motel. I never wanted to let you down.” Despite your assumption that you’d depleted your reservoir of tears over Eddie, your throat tightened with the beginnings of a crying jag. “I just want to help people.”

Mom’s fist clenched around the envelope. “And how is this helping us?” She opened her mouth to speak again, but Dad gently placing his hand over hers temporarily silenced her.

“You lied to us,” Dad said. “You lied, and then you kept lying.”

“I know.” Your voice was so small that you could barely hear it. Or maybe that was because of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

“You know.” Mom scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, how nice of you to be so self-aware.” She let out a disbelieving laugh. “So what did you major in? And how did that lead you to one of the most expensive schools in the city?”

You told them everything–the decision to study psychology, the graduate school fair that you’d attended, the student representative you’d spoken to who assured you that you’d make an excellent candidate for their Masters program. And lastly, you told them that the program requirements would prevent you from working at the motel starting next month.

Mom stayed angry, her eyes narrowed, biting down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from interrupting you. But Dad…

He was slightly hunched over and unsettlingly quiet. You’d almost rather he’d be yelling, or at least hurling his feelings toward you like Mom was.

He looked at Mom when he finally spoke, but his words cut you with a serrated edge. “We can’t pay for a new employee. And we need a third person to run the place, unless you and I want to split twelve hour days–”

“No. I–I’ll fix this.” There was no way that your aging parents would be working over eighty hours a week. “I won’t go to NYU. I’ll call them right now and see if I can rescind my acceptance, and then I’ll cancel my student loans.”

“Do you really think we can trust you after all of this?” Mom’s shouting startled you, but your flinching didn’t deter you. “And let me guess–you have some part in Eddie leaving, too?”

Now that you weren’t expecting. The pause between Mom’s question and your nod gave her all of the information she needed.

“Let me get this straight,” she seethed. “You pick a major that has nothing to do with hospitality. You apply to and then accept an offer to a graduate program that means you can’t support the family business. You don’t tell us a word about any of this, so we’re sitting around like idiots instead of planning accordingly. And then,” she pointed her finger at you, “when we do find someone to help out around here, you strike up an inappropriate relationship that I told you would end badly.”

Dad’s teary eyes met yours. “How could you do this to us?” Once again, his whisper was a knife.

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t bother to wipe your cheeks, knowing they’d stay damp until you couldn’t cry any longer. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

Your brain throbbed against your skull, the forming pounding headache distracting you from the flickering lights. Everything was blurred anyway.

Mom noticed–she always noticed when something was awry, even if she couldn’t pinpoint its exact cause. “Great, now the bulbs are going.”

“I’ll get some new ones.” You’d pay for them yourself if you had to; you wouldn’t dare touch any of the money in the register. “I’ll go out right now and–”

The lights flickered once more, only this time, they didn’t go back on. The hum of electricity died out in an instant. You poked your head out of the front door, heart sinking as you saw the other business owners doing the same thing. The block was quiet except for the exchange between a flour-covered pizzeria worker and the cashier of the ninety-nine cent store:

“Is yours out, too?”

“Sure is.”

An overwhelming stillness encompassed the neighborhood. There was no hum of air conditioning coming from any of the other businesses. Traffic lights had gone dark, drivers slowing to a crawl upon the realization that there was neither a red, yellow, nor green indicator. A glance down the street at the high-rise office buildings, their windows suspiciously void of their usual overhead lighting, told you that the rest of the city wasn’t faring any better.

A blackout. In the middle of the hottest week of the summer.

In more ways than one, you were totally and completely powerless.

--

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[feeder86]

Selfish

“Why are you arranging to go out with the boys? You know we’re going up to help my parents with redecorating this weekend!” Lucy complained, standing straight up and looking down at Ryan, laid out on the couch.

“We’re doing what?” Ryan asked, completely perplexed. “We were there last weekend!”

“Yeah, and I told my dad you’d give him a hand with the wallpapering this next weekend as well,” Lucy continued in her whining tone.

“Their entire lounge?” Ryan shot back. “Nobody told me!”

“Well…” Lucy mumbled, suddenly realising that Ryan was right. “I’m telling you now.”

Ryan huffed in frustration. He hadn’t had a night out with the boys in months. He’d thought, when he married Lucy, that he was setting himself up for a good life. She didn’t want kids, she wasn’t crazy about him visiting the gym all the time and she was a fully qualified chef! However, two years in and Ryan had never had so little time for himself, endlessly fixing up their apartment just as Lucy wanted it, then constantly heading out to see her parents; always being signed up for some tedious maintenance tasks now that Lucy’s dad was getting on a bit and living off his retirement income. “Fine,” he sighed, deleting his planned message to the group chat with the boys. “I guess I can see my friends when I’ve got a couple of weeks off next month.”

“Oh, yes!” Lucy nodded, making Ryan instantly regret reminding her about his time off. The cogs in her head clearly rolling into action, imagining all of the jobs he could get done in that time.

“Ryan!” cheered his buddies a full nine weeks later, amazed that he had actually made it out. “We haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I’m only here for one of two drinks. I dropped Lucy off in town to do some shopping,” he explained to them, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“You’re not coming to the club?” Adam asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise after giving him the biggest hug.

“No… no. I wish I could, but…” he grumbled, considering the best way to explain how much Lucy was monopolising his time; how frustrating and demanding she had become since they got married. . “...I’ve got commitments,” he simply stated, deciding not to poison his time with his friends by complaining about the person who had kept him away from them for so long. 

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Jack jumped in, filling the silent void that was killing the mood. “Life happens.”

“Jack!” Ryan exclaimed, seeing his high school best friend and doing a slight double take. The guy had altered quite a bit since Ryan last saw him. Where had that double chin come from? How was he filling that shirt with all that padding in his stomach? What the hell had happened? “How long has it been, buddy?”

“I saw you at Ginny and Fran’s house warming, about four months ago,” he answered. “I introduced you to my new girlfriend, Michelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” I remember, Ryan nodded, thinking back to how drunk Lucy had been that night, and how early they had had to leave. But Jack hadn’t looked so overweight back then. They’d tried out their friends’ new swimming pool. Jack had been one of the first ones in. He definitely wasn’t out of shape. Not like he appeared to be now.

As luck would have it, when the guys all went to grab seats, Ryan ended up next to Jack, right on the end of a long, rectangular table. Back in their high school days, the pair of them had been the best of friends, and that old rapport immediately came back every time they met; even after months of separation. Jack had always been the bad influence that Ryan’s parents had never approved of. He’d been banned from hanging out with the guy on multiple occasions when he was growing up and, even now, he still felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t, giggling away at the crude jokes that tumbled out of Jack’s mouth with ease. 

“So, things are going well with Michelle?” Ryan asked, spotting that Jack had already referenced her several times in their conversation.

“Things are going great!” Jack beamed. He leaned in a little closer, clearly not wanting the other guys to hear. “We’ve even talked about getting married!”

At this, Ryan’s eyebrows flew up. “Married? After four months?” he whispered back, knowing that Jack didn’t want this broadcasting. He remembered how promiscuous his friend had been during his college days. If Ryan had been asked to pick any one of the guys here who was least likely to ever settle down, he would have chosen Jack without a second thought.

“I know!” Jack beamed, leaning back and placing his hands on the top of his stout little paunch, which jutted out into a proper shelf as they sat down. “I’m so ready for it though,” he smiled, seeming to rub his stomach mindlessly. “I’m actually really excited about the idea.”

Round and round Jack’s hands went, rubbing that tight ball of stomach fat, pulling Ryan’s gaze into it. “I’m happy for you,” he mumbled back.

Jack looked around, checking that no one else was listening in, then he turned himself a little more into Ryan, about to divulge even more private information. “Michelle’s super kinky!” he whispered.

Ryan chuckled and leaned in as well. His own sex life was so monotonous these days, he was actually quite ready to hear about someone else having a good time. “Oh yeah? She certainly looked pretty flexible when I met her that one time,” he grinned, settling into dirty ‘guy talk’ with enthusiasm.

“Oh, buddy!” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes and giving a huge exhale. “You would not believe it. She has me wrapped around her little finger. Absolutely anything she wants, I do for her.”

“That doesn’t sound too dissimilar to me and Lucy,” Ryan quipped, chuckling at his own joke.

“No, I’m not talking about boring shit, like decorating,” Jack shot back, having heard all about Ryan’s grumblings. “I’m talking about really kinky, submissive stuff.”

“Really?” Ryan smirked. “I never thought she’d be the dominant type.”

“No,” Jack agreed enthusiastically. “No one else knows. She hides it really well.”

Ryan had to admit that he was getting a little turned on. “So, what type of stuff does she make you do?” he asked next; his eyes twinkling with boyish interest, just as much as Jack’s were.

“All sorts,” Jack answered, his hands slipping onto his gut again. “When we started going out, I was still trying to act like the playboy I used to be. Michelle was having none of it. She’s put guys like me in their place before. Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures!” he smirked.”But her biggest turn on is making sure I overeat and get bigger.”

“Seriously?” Ryan asked, now understanding why Jack kept on holding his stomach. “I thought girls hated it when guys put on weight?”

“It’s an absolute fucking dream!” Jack replied, lowering his voice even further. Just the fact that he had sworn showed Ryan how turned on his friend was, simply by talking about it. “I get home and she’ll sit me in my gaming chair and set everything up for me. Then she brings me endless snacks and beers; a few sodas, cream cakes. Michelle won’t even let me get up. I do nothing around my apartment at all! No washing, no cleaning and certainly no cooking! She gets off on controlling my entire lifestyle when I’m at home. Then rewarding me for it.”

“Dude, that’s amazing!” Ryan had to agree, feeling surprisingly jealous. He’d been up until almost midnight last night, fixing a new shelf for Lucy’s candles, whilst his buddy Jack had been gaming, eating and getting pleasured the entire time.

“You see why I’m so keen to marry her now?” Jack joked back. “Can you believe it? I’m actually living out our dream that we used to talk about in high school.”

Ryan looked a little perplexed, trying to remember what they used to talk about ten years ago.

In turn, Jack seemed a little surprised that Ryan was struggling to recall. “You remember? Mr Hanson was such a bad gym teacher, we used to joke that we would just find some girls who liked fat guys and never have to put on a pair of itchy gym shorts again.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ryan chuckled. “That worked out well for me,” he sighed sarcastically. “I ended up marrying a professional chef, but I’m now ten pounds lighter than I was when we married.”

“Dude, there are other girls out there,” Jack went on enthusiastically. “Believe me! My eyes have been opened in these last few months! If you want the life that I’ve got…” he proclaimed, rubbing his stomach once more, “trust me, you can have it!”

Ryan nodded. No one else had dared to suggest he thought about a life beyond Lucy. Whenever he raised his concerns or annoyances about their marriage, people were keen to stamp them out, reminding him, in their accusatory tones, that marriage was all about compromising. Now, here was Jack, actively encouraging him to imagine being with someone else instead. It was the reason why Jack was, and always would be, Ryan’s very best friend.

Ryan looked at himself in the mirror a couple of weeks later. It was Sunday night. He should have been well rested, and yet he looked nothing but tired. The dirt under his fingernails from digging up Lucy’s parents’ garden all weekend was still visible in places, despite scrubbing for so long in the shower. His ribs were showing in his chest and, although he was built with plenty of muscle, he’d never looked so lanky and slim in his life. He thought of Jack and his life of pleasure and luxury. This… this tiredness and exhaustion was not what he wanted for himself. He looked almost ill.

Life had to change.

Ryan raised his cell phone to the mirror and took a picture of himself. This would be his lowest point, he decided with determination. From now on, things were going to change. He never wanted to see himself like this ever again.

“What’s all this?” Lucy complained, slipping into Ryan’s truck on their way to the supermarket. She held up several pieces of packaging, wrappers from fast food places and sugary snacks. “Is this what you’ve been eating when you’ve been in work this week?”

Ryan nodded without shame. “I feel like I’m too skinny. I’m trying to put on a few pounds.”

“Since when?” Lucy blasted back indignantly. “I’ve never told you you’re too skinny. I like the way you look.”

“I don’t,” Ryan shrugged. “I’ve never liked being skinny. I was always bigger than this growing up. In fact, I was actually quite chubby when I started high school.”

“Well, no. Sorry,” Lucy stated, without compromise. “I’m your wife, and I say no.”

Ryan looked at her in disbelief. “It’s my body,” he declared. “And I want to feel good about it.”

“I said no!” Lucy spat, brushing all the packaging into the footwell and sitting herself down. “Now, let’s talk about something else.”

Ryan got in, sat down and slammed the door shut, neither of them speaking for the entire ride.

‘Fastest ways to gain weight’ Ryan typed into the internet search that evening after Lucy had gone to bed. He quickly skipped through anything that dealt with muscle gains and focused solely on those that promoted increases in fat. He may have married Lucy, but she didn’t own him. In fact, she was the one who needed to learn that more than anyone. This was one ‘no’ that he wasn’t about to cave into.

“You’re looking well,” cried Ryan’s aunt as he stopped over to fix her leaking tap.

“Thanks,” he smiled back. “I feel quite well,” he agreed. “I’ve been trying to put some weight back on these last few weeks. I was starting to get far too skinny.”

“I was saying that to your mom, but she didn’t agree with me. You had gone dreadfully skinny.”

Ryan nodded in agreement. He had always been much more on his aunt’s wavelength than anyone else in his family. “I found some recipes online and I buy in these little calorie shakes that seem to work well on me. I’ve put on about 20lbs altogether,” he explained, raising his shirt briefly to show that his stomach was indeed a little thicker. “Lucy isn’t too pleased about it. But she’s never happy these days.”

“Well, you were never skinny growing up, were you?” his aunt nodded. “You always had a sweet tooth, I remember. You used to eat me out of house and home when you came over!”

“That’s why I’m so tall,” Ryan laughed. “I was always so well fed growing up.”

The pair of them laughed and Ryan packed up his things. In the old days, he would have headed straight home to his wife, but now he was feeling the need to be much more selfish, heading istead to the fast food place he had grown quite attached to and determined that he would at last defeat the Mega Monster Meal that had, up until now, eluded him.

“Come on, we’ve got to go!” Lucy complained, checking the time as Ryan rushed about after his shower. He’d been late home, getting caught up at a job, sending his wife into a tailspin as she tried to get him ready for her friend’s engagement party. She’d laid his suit out on the bed, his underwear, shoes and socks; knowing exactly how she wanted him to look.

Ryan hated being rushed. So what if they missed the first twenty minutes? Was the world really going to end? It was the side of Lucy he hated most, struggling to pull his socks on as his feet were still so wet.

“Oh,” Ryan mumbled, sucking in his stomach and trying to button up the suit pants. He tugged and pulled, holding his breath as much as he could. “I’m too big for them!” he chuckled with amusement, remembering that he had bought the suit for a wedding less than a year ago, when he was much skinnier. “What a waste of money, these were!” he joked lightheartedly. “I only got to wear them once!”

Lucy stared on in horror. She’d told him again and again to cut down on his eating. Couldn’t he see how bad he looked? Wasn’t he ashamed of how his stomach was starting to develop into a little paunch.

“Relax,” he whispered back, trying to calm her down. “I’ll just pair the jacket with my jeans and then we can head straight out.”

However, Lucy’s face had flushed with anger. “No,” she declared, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m going by myself. I’m not being seen with you, looking like this.”

Ryan stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t have words, listening as she stormed down the stairs and threw the front door closed. He heard her car start and he peeked out the window as that too stormed off down the street; out of view. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Ryan threw himself down onto the bed; still dressed only in his underwear and socks. How had he married someone so fucking unreasonable? She was just so… 

But then a thought came to Ryan, making his brain tingle into life. Had he actually just been given the night to himself? The whole house? Just him? All evening?

He looked down at his thicker stomach and smiled with delight at it. “Thank you!” he laughed aloud, managing to pinch a little and jiggle it in happiness. He felt a twitch in his groin, realising that with the night to himself, he could watch porn or do anything that he wanted. He could order food in. Lots of it! “Yes!”, he nodded, getting more excited and turned on now. This was his night. Free reign to be as selfish as he liked.

Ryan proceeded to indulge himself in every way possible, looking down at his bloated stomach a couple of hours later. Maybe this was it, he thought to himself. Maybe this was the way out of his miserable life with Lucy. He could seize upon her dislike of his weight gain and run with it. Why stop? He’d certainly gone beyond the point of denying himself for the sake of her ideals. There was a path in front of him, the exit sign shining brightly and a new life within his reach. He just needed to have the courage to reach for it.

“A Saturday night to yourself?” Jack laughed, surprised that Ryan had actually followed up on his promises and made it out for a drink. “You must have been a very good boy!” he teased.

Ryan hugged his friend and stood back to admire him slightly. Jack had grown wider since he’d seen him last, his hips and love handles spreading. Teh guy’s face was bigger, cheeks blooming large. And underneath his t-shirt, Ryan could see that the man’s nipples had become pointed, pressing outwards from his puffy former pecs. “I can see that you’ve been having a very good time of things!” he joked, being in the know about how Jack’s kinky sex life worked with his girlfriend.

“I could say the same about you!” Jack smirked back, poking Ryan in his tight little paunch. “Have you and Lucy been having your own kinky fun?” he teased.

“We’re not really talking at the moment, dude,” Ryan explained straight away; keen that he didn’t have to spend the entire night talking about her. “I want out. I’ve reached the end.”

Jack winced sympathetically. “I can’t say that I’m all that surprised after the way you were talking last time. But that still doesn’t explain this,” he pointed back at Ryan’s middle, smirking.

Ryan laughed, having forgottem how quickly Jack could lift his spirits with his cheeky humour. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied coyly, smiling with just as much mischief.

“Yes you do!” Jack laughed back, patting Ryan’s paunch properly now. “Did you do it on purpose? Is this to piss Lucy off?”

Again, Ryan laughed. He shruged his shoulders. “Yeah,” he nodded in surprise at Jack’s bluntness. There wasn’t anyone else in the world he could imagine himself admitting this to. “I guess I did,” he smiled, resting his hand over his thicker middle like it was his new prized pet.

“Dude, that’s so awesome!” Jack blasted; his face lighting up with all the enthusiasm Ryan remembered when the pair of them used to get up to mischief in high school. “You love it, don’t you?”

Ryan felt like he was dealing with an excitable puppy, but the interest was infectious. “Well, I can’t say I’m against it,” he replied diplomatically.

“Michelle is going to love this when I tell her,” Jack pressed on, ordering them both a couple of beers. “She said at the pool party that you would make a good fatty.”

“She did?” Ryan asked, surprised that Michelle would talk about other guys in that way.

“Absolutely,” Jack nodded. “She said you’re like me; a similar build; perfect for fattening up, apparently.”

“She really is a kinky one, your Michelle, isn’t she?” Ryan chuckled, feeling strangely aroused by the idea of her talking about him like this.

“How far are you planning on taking it?” Jack pressed him.

“The weight gain? Um, well. I’m not really thinking about anything really. I’m just having some fun,” he answered honestly.

“Dude, if you’re ever going to grow a gut in your lifetime, getting a divorce is one of them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ryan asked, only half listening now as he tried to work out why there was so much blood pumping into his groin.

“A divorce is like a free pass for so many things. No one will bat an eyelid if you start getting properly fat once you two separate.”

“Well, we’re not quite there yet,” Ryan backtracked, wincing slightly as the word ‘divorce’ came up so casually in their conversation. Lucy hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, and neither had he to her. 

“Just imagine it though,” Jack encouraged him. “You, sitting in your own apartment somewhere, drinking as much beer and eating as much pizza as you want after work. No Lucy complaining in the background and telling you off. No massive list of jobs to be completed at the weekend.”

“That does sound pretty sweet,” Ryan admitted; his dick now inexplicably full of blood.

“I just can’t wait to tell Michelle,” Jack said again, more delighted than ever as the pair of them settled in to watch the football game on the big screen.

The realities of splitting from his wife were somewhat different from the fantasies that Jack tried to portray, Ryan soon realised. Divorce was quickly turning into the most expensive thing he had ever done. Lucy’s parents, who had been too impoverished to hire a gardener, or a decorator, or a maintenance guy the entire time he had been married to Lucy, suddenly stumped up the cash to pay for the most cut-throat, killer lawyer for their daughter. With his head in his hands, Ryan soon realised that he was going to have to start from scratch: no home, no pensions, not even his truck for work. The only place that he could afford to live was a room in an apartment downtown, sharing with two students from the local college. Twenty nine years old and here he was, right back at the starting line.

Of the two guys he now lived with, Ryan didn’t see much of Paul, the computer science major. He was often out in the library, or hiding out in his bedroom. That worked fine. With his life turned so upside down, Ryan wasn’t exactly wanting to be dragged out to parties midweek when he had work the next morning. No, the only real pain in Ryan’s ass was Ash; the smart-mouthed literature student with a carefree attitude to life that frustrated Ryan to no end.

“You know, when you get a real job, you’re not going to be able to sit up until 3am watching a movie marathon with your waste of space boyfriend,” he complained at the guy one evening, tired from an exhausting day in work, having been constantly woken by the pair of young lovers laughing so hard at the screen.

“Fine. Whatever,” Ash huffed. “I’ve had a stressful day, okay. I don’t need this.”

“Stressful?” Ryan parroted, feeling the rage bubbling up inside him. “You want to know about stress?” he growled. “You’ve been sitting inside all day typing up an assignment on a computer screen. That’s not what real stress looks like. You’re in college - you have absolutely no idea about the real world; about trying to actually earn a living!”

Ash rolled his eyes. He’d heard it all before. 

Sure, Lucy knew how to press Ryan’s buttons, but this boy was on a whole other level. “You graduate with your masters in nine months!” he blasted. “What the hell do you expect to do then? You’ve got no idea, have you? How can you just wander so aimlessly through life?”

“What does it matter?” Ash sighed. “Things always work out in the end.”

“It matters because, trust me, your twenties will be over in a flash and you need to start getting somewhere in life. Not just watching movies until 3am! And certainly not with someone like Ben! You’re just setting yourself up for failure, and it pisses me off!”

“Like you, you mean?” Ash shot back, visibly annoyed. “You’ve done the whole marriage thing, the house, the cars. Yet, you're back here, sharing a shitty apartment with a couple of students. You did everything right, everything the grown-ups told you, and now look at you! Sometimes life is just like that. So stop taking out your frustrations on me and start focusing on yourself instead!”

Ryan didn’t respond. He stormed off to his room and threw himself onto the bed. Then he took a few breaths and considered what Ash had actually said to him. The guy had been right: he was taking his anger out on him. Ash was young, more academically bright than Ryan had ever been, good looking and full of personality. He had his whole life in front of him without any major mistakes under his belt yet. So why did Ryan feel the need to be such an asshole to him?

Despite not officially apologising, Ryan did make an effort to be nicer to Ash over the coming days. He still didn’t care for Ben, the guy's boyfriend, feeling that Ash could do much better. But he was polite and courteous, never failing to put in his earplugs when he knew they were going to be watching TV until late.

Ryan’s weight had not been a priority for him since he’d moved in. Any erotic fantasies he’d indulged himself in last year were thoroughly dampened by the divorce. Yet, his weight continued to climb, spurred on by the cheap, high carbohydrate diet he fell into whilst living in the apartment.

When he was with Lucy, Ryan had indulged himself in sugary treats and even high calorie supplements that he would now consider an eyewatering drain on his monthly budget. He was having to to work harder than ever to bring in the money and his paunch seemed to lose that fluffy softness of his early gains, solidifying into something firmer and more rounded as it continued to push itself out from under his chest.

New clothes were also a luxury that Ryan could ill-afford. His t-shirts fitted awkwardly around the swell of his stomach and there were many times in work when he felt a cool breeze on his butt crack. Beer was the only luxury he allowed himself in those early days, especially on the weekends, when Paul usually went back to visit his family and Ash was generally out partying with his boyfriend. In those few, blissful hours, he could guzzle down his beers whilst sitting in his underwear in front of the shared TV screen, appreciating exactly why he had given up his marriage. Life was hard, but it wasn’t always awful.

Through word of mouth, Ryan had started picking up more work on some of the other rental properties for students that littered this area of town. Desperate for the work, Ryan had been undercutting people quite dramatically in order to guarantee an income for himself. However, trying to get an early start on these types of properties was never as easy. Students were inherently lazy, he decided, whilst banging on the door of one apartment, trying to get someone to let him in. After a full five minutes, a groggy looking guy crawled to the door wearing only his underwear and a t-shirt that was back to front.

“Your landlord sent me to see your air con,” Ryan eventually explained.

Without a word, the exhausted guy simply opened the door further and let Ryan get by. “You’re not going to be noisy are you?” he eventually asked. “My boyfriend is still asleep.”

Ryan looked at his watch. It was almost 10.30 in the morning. Why would anyone still be asleep now?

“It’s okay. I’m getting up anyway,” yawned another guy, waddling sleepily from the bedroom and giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. It was only then that Ryan clocked him. It was Ben, Ash’s obviously cheating boyfriend; the guy’s face suddenly looking considerably more alert as he too recognised Ryan.

“You’re not going to tell Ash, are you?” Ben shouted, having followed Ryan out of the apartment the second he had finished up; safely out of earshot of his second boyfriend.

“Of course I am,” Ryan replied simply, continuing to walk away, without stopping.

“You’re just going to make him miserable,” the guy shot back. “Is that what you want?”

At this, Ryan laughed. Guilty people always seemed to have such a terrific way of turning things back around on the other person. “Trust me,” he sniggered. “He’ll be way better off without someone like you in his life.”

“Do you think it was easy for me with Ash?” Ben started next; his tone shifting to something nastier. “It’s not exactly easy trying to feel special when your boyfriend has a massive crush on the pot-bellied daddy bear he shares an apartment with. How do you think that made me feel?”

“What are you even talking about?” Ryan laughed, surprised at how far Ben was going with his bullshit. A daddy bear? He was only six years older than Ash.

“Oh, come on. You know exactly what you’re doing,” Ben snapped back, getting more viscious as he realised that Ryan wasn’t willing to compromise with him. “You’re always there, or strutting about in just your underwear, drinking your beers in the living area and being overly friendly. You’ve been trying to fuck things up for the two of us for ages.”

Now Ryan did stop, turning to face Ben properly. “What planet are you living on?” he asked, completely flabbergasted. “I just try to be pleasant. I’m not trying to do anything.”

“Prove it then,” Ben shot back, seizing upon an opportunity. “If you’re really not trying to fuck things up between us, you’ll let this one little indiscretion slide.”

If Ryan hadn’t just had the hardest year of his life, dealing with some of the most despicable, bullying lawyers out there, he may have fallen for Ben’s game. As it was, he wasn’t afraid of standing his ground. “Tell him by the time I get home later. Or I will.”

Ryan crept into the apartment later that evening, finding Paul in the kitchen. “You missed some drama today,” he sighed. “Ash and Ben broke up. I walked in on it all before. It was so awkward.”

“Is Ash okay?” Ryan asked, relieved that Ben had listened to his ultimatum and done the deed himself.

“He’s in his room,” Paul nodded over to the bedroom door. “We’d best leave him be.”

Ryan nodded in complete agreement, deciding to hide out in his room that evening so that Ash didn’t need to see anyone when he would inevitably have to come out for a glass of water, or to use the bathroom.

The evening was slipping away and Ryan had just finished a TV series that he had been charging through for the last two weeks. There was still an hour until he would need to get to sleep; enough time for one last beer, before the inevitable daily grind would start all over again. He strutted out of his bedroom and made for the refrigerator, pausing only briefly to crack the can open and chug a little of it. He burped quietly, finding that the first few mouthfuls of fresh beer always made him the most gassy. Then, suddenly, he heard the door to Ash��s room opening and he stood there, feeling completely caught out.

“Hi,” Ash whispered, not making any pretenses that he was here for any other reason than to see Ryan.

Feeling incredibly awkward, Ryan now regretted coming out of his room without a shirt on; his bloated pot belly on full display. Before today, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but Ben’s words had planted an unpleasant seed in his mind that made him question everything he did a little bit more. “I’m sorry to hear about Ben,” he stated straight away. “How are you doing?”

Ash sighed and began to pour his heart out. He knew all about Ryan’s discovery earlier that day and he thanked the guy for doing the right thing.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Ryan nodded, swigging the last of his beer and crushing the can for recycling. He shouldn’t have really had another one. His stomach felt quite painfully bloated and tight after it.

“Oh, and about those things that Ben said to you,” Ash quickly jumped in, seeing that Ryan was heading back to his room. “I hope it’s not going to make things awkward between us.”

Ryan had to think for a second about what Ash was getting at. The crush? Was Ben actually telling the truth about that? “Um, no. Not at all,” he mumbled back, rubbing his hair with a little embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, finally making his escape.

An evening out with Jack was exactly what Ryan needed a couple of weekends later, as Ryan’s divorce was at last finalised. Unlike Ryan’s months of hell, Jack’s appearance was symbolic of a life of sheer indulgence and pleasure. Unlike Ryan, his body was pure softness, with blubber beginning to creep its way into the guy’s neck and upper arms. His stomach had swollen quite considerably and his butt had a surprising width to it that Ryan had not expected.

“Listen, I didn’t want to message you about this. I kind of feel pretty bad asking you in some ways, knowing what you’re going through,” Jack started after Ryan had finished explaining how the divorce had eventually played out. “I wanted you to be my best man.”

Ryan smiled brightly. “Of course I will,” he beamed, getting up to hug his old friend warmly as he stayed sitting in his chair.

“Thanks,” Jack smiled. “It’s not going to be a huge wedding. Not everyone approves,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“How do you mean?” Ryan asked, sensing that Jack needed to offload.

“Well, Michelle’s parents aren’t coming,” he huffed. “They’d watched Michelle do this to her old boyfriend,” he explained, rubbing the quite substantial shelf of belly fat under his sagging nipples. “So when the same thing started happening to me, they told her they wanted no part in it.”

“Bonus!” Ryan joked, trying to remain upbeat. “My marriage certainly would have gone a lot smoother without the in-laws.”

Jack nodded, seeming to be somewhat in agreement. “Michelle’s not too cut up about it,” he whispered. “Then, well, you remember my dad. He still goes out running three times a week. So he’s not been all that in favour of Michelle and her wholesome home cooking..”

“You can’t live your life for your parents,” Ryan jumped in. It was a lesson he had learned somewhat bitterly when his own church-goin parents had taken Lucy’s side in the divorce. It made him think back to how much they had pushed him to get married in the first place, and he began to resent them, quite justifiably in his opinion.

“I know, I know…” Jack nodded. “And I wouldn’t change a thing. She’s it for me, y’know?”

Ryan raised his beer and they drank to that sentiment.

“What about you?” Jack asked next. “Is there someone new you’ve been holding back from me?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, not at all,” he stated. “Well… I mean…” he hesitated for a moment. “No. No one.”

But Jack’s interest had already been piqued. “Oh, come on. You can’t give me that and then say nothing!” he teased.

Ryan sighed, realising that he had dug himself into a bit of a hole. “It’s nothing,” he huffed at his own stupidity. “It’s just, one of the guys I live with has a bit of a crush on me.”

“Your first chubby chaser!” Jack laughed wickedly.

“Well…” Ryan conceded. “It looks that way, yes. His ex-boyfriend told me off for strutting around the place in just my underwear. He said I had a pot-belly and told me his boyfriend thinks of me as a hot daddy bear!”

Jack chuckled again. “Well, he’s not wrong. You do have quite the pot-belly!”

“Isn’t it a bit weird though?” Ryan asked his friend.

“Being referred to as a daddy bear when you’re only twenty nine?” Jack asked, simultaneously nodding in agreement. “But once you put on a bit of extra meat, that’s just the way people see you. It’s much more arousing to lean into it, rather than try to fight it.”

“Lean into it?” Ryan asked. “That’s your best advice?”

“Just enjoy the attention,” Jack smirked. “So what if he’s a twenty-four year old gay guy? You don’t have to be into someone to appreciate their admiration,” he nodded knowingly. “Trust me on this one. You’ll come to see that I’m right.”

With the divorce at last over with and all lawyers paid off, Ryan began to feel the financial strain starting to ease. Lucy hadn’t been quite as successful in getting all that she wanted from him. The worst case scenario was, thankfully, avoided. A few more months of living with the boys and Ryan would soon have saved enough money to rent his own place instead. With the ties that bound him to his ex-wife now finally disappearing, Ryan began to remember why he had fought so long for this freedom.

“I’ll have the Monster Meat bucket,” he declared, walking into a fast food place and not feeling guilty about the cost for the first time in months. He sucked in the smell of all the greasy goodness and knew that this was a freedom he would never again take for granted. Now he could gorge on as much as he desired and never have to explain himself to anyone. He could literally get as fat as he wanted now he was divorced and single, with no one to please but himself.

As he settled down into a seat, Ryan felt the bliss of devoting all his attention just to his epic meal for a full 20 minutes. It was all the stress relief he had ever needed. No one in here was particularly slim and it seemed, in those moments, that he had taken himself out of a world that so frustrated him, and into one that he felt comfortable in. Sure, he could probably join a gym and drop this weight in a relatively short amount of time. He could train his body hard and attract some beautiful girl to make his ex jealous. But Ryan knew that he had moved beyond that now. He didn’t care what his ex thought of him, or anyone else for that matter.

Or was Ryan just kidding himself? Was this really a moment of clarity? Or would he soon go crawling back to a diet plan the second things started getting rough? He was desperate to believe that wouldn’t be the case, but no one could ever be totally certain when it came to the future. It was only the present he could master. And so, armed with that knowledge, he went back to the counter, even though he felt almost too stuffed to even think about food.

“I’ll have the triple burger, please,” he stated, adding another milkshake to go with it. “He felt his hardess start to tingle, like the old days when he used to do this. Back then, he’d assumed it to be some twisted excitement about pissing Lucy off. Now he realised that this was so much more. This was about taking himself to somewhere he had never allowed himself to imagine going..

“Is this for you?” Ash asked, handing Ryan two boxes of pizza. “The delivery guy was coming up the stairs as I got home.”

“About time!” Ryan sighed, taking the boxes from him and settling back into the chair in front of the sofa. Two pizzas were a necessity for the Friday night baseball game and he was already four beers down. It would have been a perfect night but for the sticky humidity that had loomed over the city for the last few days; making him strip to his boxers as soon as he got home. “Do you follow baseball?” he asked Ash politely, nodding to the couch to see if he wanted to join him; knowing that, with Paul gone for the weekend, Ash would be on his own otherwise.

“No. Watching sports is not really my thing,” Ash replied unenthusiastically, despite continuing to linger around.

“Do you mind getting me another beer then?” Ryan asked,deciding to put the guy to work if he was so free to just stand about like this. 

Ash hopped to his task with remarkable speed. “Here you go,” he smiled delightedly, heading straight over and handing it over to him, not seeming to realise that he was blcoking part of the TV screen. “I’ve got some chips and dip if you want some?” he asked next.

“Sure,” Ryan nodded, hoping that the guy would at least sit down then and stop getting in the way.

Once again, Ash went to his task, presenting the chips and dip much better than Ryan ever would have. He placed them on the coffee table and then finally sat himself down on the couch. 

“You not having any?” Ryan asked five minutes later, noticing that it was only him actually eating.

“No, thanks,” Ash simply replied, pretending to be interested in the game. “They’re for you. Do you want another beer?”

Ryan felt the remaining liquid in his beer can and nodded, surprised by how diligently he was being looked after. Even when he asked Ash to fetch him the ice cream from the freezer later on, he was surprised that the young guy hopped to it, bouncing off the couch with an enthusiasm he had never seen before.

At the end of the game, Ryan took himself to the bathroom to relieve himself after the seven cans of beer he had ended up consuming. He looked in the mirror and marveled at the reflection he saw within it. Bloated and stuffed, Ryan had never seen his stomach looking so round and tight. Although he had upgraded his underwear a little while back, already these were looking worn and stretched, pulling the waistband down so that a good couple of inches of butt crack were on show. His muscular chest had started to build up with fleshiness in recent weeks and he placed his hand there to feel just how soft it was starting to get under his arms. He pulled the scales out with his foot and wondered just how much he weighed in this overfed state. He stepped on, waiting for the numbers to settle: 256lbs; the biggest number he had ever seen by quite some margin. It was, quite frankly, the cause of an almost instantaneous erection.

“I was wondering, if you’re still hungry, I could make you some pancakes?” Ash asked next as Ryan finally made it out of the bathroom. “I’ve got all the ingredients in.”

Ryan sat himself back down with a grunt and rubbed the shelf of his tight stomach, surprised that Ash was still hanging about the living area. Couldn’t he see how full Ryan was? Was he completely obvious to the heavy breathing and occasional grunt when he had to move, even slightly. He knew that the guy had a little crush, but what on earth was he possibly getting out of all this?

“Go on,” Ash pressed, actually trying to persuade him now. “Just a couple of them; nothing too big.”

Ryan looked up at the guy, already making his way to the kitchen and just waiting for that final nod of approval from him. Out of little more than curiosity, he agreed; watching with interest as he spied Ash settling to his task. Was he really using that much oil to fry the batter mix up? Was he actually rubbing butter into them? Did he really need to pour on that much syrup?

Despite tasting amazing, Ryan knew that every mouthful he was taking was completely and utterly packed full of calories and fat. As if desperate for his approval, Ash had watched him consume every bite of them. A sweat had begun to pour off Ryan’s forehead, but he wasn’t entirely sure that this one was caused by the humidity. “I am absolutely stuffed!” Ryan declared, grunting and rubbing the stretched out ball of stomach fat. “I haven’t eaten this much in ages,” he chuckled. “Not since I was trying to piss off my ex-wife after she told me she liked me being skinny.” “You were putting on weight on purpose?” Ash asked, quite startled by the comment.

“I was going for it, like you wouldn’t believe!” Ryan nodded. “Unless you’ve been through it, it’s hard to comprehend how petty you can be towards the end of a bad marriage,” he grinned, suddenly noticing that his hands were all over his own rounded stomach. “I was even taking this special calorie supplement shake you can buy, just to speed things up,” he laughed, thinking back.

“Oh!” Ash exclaimed knowledgeably, suddenly naming the exact brand .

They both went quiet. What a strange piece of trivia for Ash to just know, thought Ryan. The guy seemed to sense that too, suddenly looking a little sheepish. 

“Do you still take them?” Ash asked next, trying to look a little less interested than his excitable voice made him sound.

“I don’t need to,” Ryan grinned, tapping his fully grown pot belly. I just weighed myself twenty minutes ago. I’ve put on another 40lbs since I moved in here. It seems that I just can’t stop these days!” He yawned, standing up and stretching. “Anyway, buddy. I need to head to sleep,” he declared, seizing upon the fact that his erection from the overeating had at last subsided.

“Do you think there is a way to tell if someone is like your Michelle?” Ryan asked the next time he caught up with Jack at the very hastily organised stag party.

“How do you mean?” Jack asked, only a little worse for wear as he and Ryan gradually fell to the back of the crowd of friends taking them to the next bar.

“You know… Someone who is into the idea of helping someone else gain weight,” Ryan explained, trying to keep his voice fairly low.

Jack chuckled. “Oh, trust me, you’ll spot them!” he nodded. They’re not exactly subtle. “They’ll find ways to ensure you’re eating and they’ll probably want to watch too. If they’re anything like Michelle, they’ll probably try to keep your activity levels low and complement you at the weirdest times; like when you’re bloated from overeating.”

Ryan nodded, taking it all in and finding a striking resemblences to Ash’s more recent behaviours. “Anything else?” he asked.

Jack considered for a moment. “The compliments,” he added next. “They’re totally bizarre. If they’re praising you for overeating, that’s a pretty sure sign. But sometimes they may try to convince you that you look better, or more masculine, or whatever it is they think you want to hear. When the reality is, you just look fat.”

Again, Ryan nodded, keen to match Jack’s thoughts to his own observations of Ash. “You see, I think I might have…”

“Come on!” shouted their drunk friends up ahead. “The night is still young. Stop waddling behind and get your big butts up here!”

Jack and Ryan smirked at each other. Despite Jack’s rather considerable extra weight, Ryan had been lumbered in exactly the same category. The pair of them were, for better or worse, the fat guys on this trip.

“You’re back!” Ash smiled late the next day as an exhausted Ryan made it home. “Did you have a nice time? Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat?”

Ryan looked again at the time. “You’re still up!” he asked with surprise, knowing that Ash always had an early class on Monday mornings.

“Well, I wanted to check that you got home okay,”Ash replied, heading to the kitchen and renewing his offer to make something for his roommate.

Smirking at the fact that he was being fussed over and mothered by a good-looking twenty-four year old, Ryan had been disappointed that he hadn’t had more alone time to discuss this situation he was in, with his buddy, Jack. “Okay,” he nodded, deciding to just let Ash do his thing. “Sure, that would be nice.” He headed for a shower, returning to find an enormous, steaming hot lasagne, glistening with grease and cheese, sitting there on a plate, ready to be eaten. “Did you make this from scratch?” he asked Ash.

Ash nodded. “I remembered you saying that lasagne used to be your favourite dish growing up. I’ve never made it before, but I made a whole bunch of them and portioned them up in the refrigerator for when you get hungry.

Ryan smiled at the effort Ash had clearly gone to for him; a whole new level of care and attention. He opened his mouth to try some and nodded in approval. The lasagne really was delicious, although it was more than obvious just how much oil, cream and several different types of cheeses had gone into it to make it really quite extremely high in calories. If all the beer and fast food hadn’t ensured his pants would be tighter tomorrow, this little calorie bomb sure would.

“How was the weekend, anyway?” Ash asked, sticking around for the show and watching Ryan devour every bite.

“Pretty good,” Ryan nodded. “I had a couple of jibes from some of my old school friends about my weight. But we all turn thirty this year, so the dad-bod is definitely where most of them are at now anyway. I’m just the one who has already graduated from that stage,” he winked at Ash, tapping his gut.

“What did they say?” Ash asked with surprising interest, placing a cushion over his crotch.

“Oh, you know,” Ryan went on, deciding to play up to whatever kinky fantasies he thought his roomate may be having. “Just pointing stuff out to me: telling me how tight my clothes are, how slow I was when we were walking to different places and calling me out on how much I was eating when we went for food.”

“They’re probably just jealous,” Ash shot back straight away.

Ryan smirked. There was no way any of the guys were in the least bit jealous of his sprouting pot belly, making him all but invisible to the many hot girls they bumped into that weekend. This was clearly just another one of those bizarre compliments that Jack had told him to look out for. “Yeah, you’re right,” he lied to Ash, rubbing his bloating gut as he chugged down a few of the sodas Ash had supplied with his late night meal. “I’m sure they are jealous, deep down.”

Stepping on the scale was not something that Ryan did all that often. He could feel his stomach’s rounded shape starting to swell even larger, and he knew, from the fit of his underwear and pants, that his thighs and butt were also bearing the brunt of all that he was consuming each day. Still, as he stepped up, early one Sunday morning, after a particularly gluttonous take-out weekend of having the apartment to himself, Ryan’s eyes widened in shock: 278lbs! “Fuck!” he blasted in shock, before laughing to himself at how fast the latest few pounds had slipped on. He really weighed that much? He didn’t feel that heavy! He strolled over to the mirror inspecting his shape. Sure, his gut was pretty well developed by now and all the extra eating had sure softened his chest up rather a lot. He spun, noting that his butt’s width was quite considerable now, with back fat bulding at his sides and folding under his shoulder blades. Yet, he still didn’t feel like he should weigh 278lbs! Somehow, he had always imagined a guy that size being much bigger than this. What Ryan actually felt as he saw himself there, was very small still; acting as a licence for him to continue to indulge.

Jack’s wedding was fast approaching as the weeks rolled by. After being fitted for their suits, Ryan and Jack headed out for something to eat.

“That tailor seemed pretty pissed off that we left it this late to get ourselves measured for the wedding outfits,” Ryan noted as they sat down and grabbed the menus. “I guess we’ll have to cross our fingers that they can get those pants in for you in time.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack shrugged. “I put on weight every week, so there would have been no point in going any earlier. I would just have outgrown them. “I’m almost 350lbs these days.”

Ryan nodded. Jack did indeed look impressively large, yet he was only 60lbs or so bigger than he was. And Ryan still felt tiny in comparison. “I know what you mean,” Ryan agreed. “I split some pants the other day. I’d only bought them four weeks before.”

“It’s weird, isnt it. When you’re gaining weight, you’re so tuned into how your body feels and looks. Yet, at the same time, you’re completely oblivious to it as well; how tight your clothes are getting, or how large you seem to other people.”

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. He felt so glad that Jack noticed this as well, sparking a lively conversation between the pair.

“You’ll be getting your own place soon, I take it?” Jack asked. “The two students you're sharing with must be graduating soon?”

“A couple of months,” Ryan nodded, suddenly realising that he had been a little lazy in his hunt for a new apartment. 

“That’ll be nice!” Jack smiled. “Your own space at last!”

“Well, it’s not too bad as it is,” Ryan explained. “Paul is never there at weekends. And now he’s got himself a girlfriend, he’s not there much in the week either.”

“And what about the other one? The one you used to fight with loads?”

“Yeah, he’s there a lot, but… we don’t argue so much these days,” he admitted; suddenly feeling the desire to say so much more about kinky little Ash.

“Before I foget,” Jack jumped in. “Michelle wants to know who you’re bringing as your ‘plus one’ to the wedding next week.

“I’ve got a ‘plus one’?” Ryan asked, genuinely surprised.

“Dude!” Jack grumbled. “Seriously?”

“I’ll find someone,” Ryan replied hastily, seeing how stressed Jack was getting.

“What about that girl you were hinting at when we briefly chatted during my stag party?” Jack asked, clearly keen to get a name locked in.

Ryan thought for a moment. Had Jack assumed he had some potential hot chubby chaser girl on the go? He pondered the idea, realising, quite suddenly, that he didn’t really need one. In the most unexpected way, everything that he had yearned for in life had already arrived. “Hey, Jack,” he asked thoughtfully. “How did you know that Michelle was the one for you?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Jack shot back with a sly grin.

“Besides that,” Ryan insisted. “How did you know that you guys were meant to be together?”

Jack sighed. “I guess…” he began softly, “...it was the way she made me feel: so loved and cared for; admired and adored. I’ve never felt that from anyone before.” He seemed moved, just by talking about her. “Plus she dominated me and forced me to pack on over 150lbs of pure fat; which is one of the kinkiest fucking things I could ever have imagined!” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ryan laughed and nodded. He made a crack about how much fatter Jack might be after he got home from his honeymoon, but, really, his mind was elsewhere; with someone else entirely.

Ryan arrived home to see a large crate of beers resting on the kitchen counter tied up with a ginormous red bow. He laughed, seeing that it was his favourite brand and noticing that a large tray of assorted doughnuts lay beside it.

“Do you like your present?” Ash asked, coming out of his bedroom with a huge smile on his face.

“You bought these for me?” Ryan asked, feeling his mouth watering at the sight of the doughnuts, even after how much he had eaten with Jack that afternoon.

As if psychically linked, Ash began unpackaging the doughnuts for him, leaving them open for him to stuff one into his mouth. “They’re to say thank you. I just had my novel manuscript accepted for publishing.”

Ryan nearly spat out his doughnut. “You’ve been writing a novel?” he blasted in shock. “Since when?”

“Since you kept reminding me that I need to do something with my life; back when you first moved in.”

“I was being an asshole,” Ryan confessed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

“You gave me the kick up the ass that I needed,” Ash threw back with a smile. “You always told me how clever I was and that I could do anything.”

“You’re an amazing person,” Ryan marvelled. “In fact, you’re the best person I’ve ever met in my life!” For weeks now, he had worried that his behavious around Ash, indulging his little feeder tendencies in subtle ways, had only brought the guy to fetishize him. Their relationship was merely one of a simple exchange: Ryan would enjoy being overfed and catered for by his roommate, and Ash would get to enjoy the subtle art of ensuring a guy that he found attractive, continued to pile on a few pounds. Now, however, every sense felt strangetly heightened in this moment of celebration. He couldn’t believe that Ash had been secretly writing away for months when Ryan had assumed the guy to be inside his bedroom, playing games. Just how blind had he been this entire time?

Ryan took a step forward and Ash did not retreat. He grabbed the much smaller guy’s shoulders and held them firmly. Again, Ash did not stop him. Then, seeing the inviting, warm look on Ash’s face, Ryan took the biggest risk of his life, going in for a kiss and desperately hoping that Ash’s lips would move to meet his.

Unbelievably, Ash was kissing him back, moaning gently, as if luxuriating in something he had never wanted more in his life. The kiss became intense, very quickly. With his shirt lifted off him, Ryan felt the handsome guy’s hands rubbing all over his stomach. Before he knew it, Ryan was being guided into the living space, his sweatpants ripped down and then his body pushed with surprisingly kinky force, back into his usual chair in front of the TV. 

Ryan looked up at Ash with startled arousal. The guy seemed so naturally suited to taking charge. He would have known that this was Ryan’s first gay experience and he led the way with ease, erasing any opportunity for awkward fumblings to slip in. He cracked open one of the chilled beers and fetched the tray of doughnuts from the kitchen counter. Then, when he was sure that Ryan was settled, he plunged his whole mouth down onto the fat guy’s crotch.

Ryan’s whole body twitched.This wasn’t a blow job, he thought to himself, feeling the intense stimulation straight away. He found himself moaning, even when he was trying not to. Was this intense pleasure what it was supposed to have been like all along? Lucy had never made much of an effort with anything in the bedroom, but Ash’s mouth was doing things to him that Ryan could never have dreamed of. He supped on his beer and ate a doughnut, feeling Ash’s hands rubbing the spherical shape of his stomach, clearly getting off on making this moment all about him.

Barely two doughnuts in and Ryan felt his body lurching as it wanted to climax. Ash worked his pace even more, feeling the throbbing in his mouth. Then, when the moment came, he pushed his mouth even deeper, sending Ryan’s hardness all the way down his throat. The pleasure; the orgasm; that intensity. It was unlike anything Ryan had ever experienced in his life. 

There was no going back.

Over the following week, Ryan discovered that Ash had a whole arsenal of tactics to please him. Not only did the guy continue to fuss over him with his cooking and snack deliveries, but his tight, energetic little butt seemed determined to outdo every single previous sexual experience that Ryan had ever had. They spoke at length about their attraction to each other and how smitten they both had become. Ryan had no hesitation in inviting Ash to be his date for Jack’s wedding. And, in fact, spending so much time with a now professional writer, really helped Ryan to produce the best speech he could have wished for. Rather than feeling sick with nerves as the big day arrived, he felt excited and pumped, heartily stuffing himself on the big breakfast Ash had so lovingly prepared for him.

“Your friends really aren’t keen on Michelle, are they?” Ash commented later that evening, as the pair of them were reunited after Ryan’s time sitting at the top table and the endless photographs that needed taking.

“Um, no,” Ryan nodded. “Not so much.”

“I had no idea that your friend, Jack, used to be so slim before he met her,” he whispered, fearing that one of their families might overhear. “Your buddies seem to think she’s the devil incarnate!”

Ryan chuckled. He’d heard it all before. “She’s lovely really,” he tried, looking over at the pair of them as Michelle spoonfed her 350lb husband a large piece of their wedding cake. “She just… knows what she wants.”

“I think everyone here can see exactly what it is she wants,” Ash joked back as Jack’s full, swollen belly was patted with approval by his new wife. “It makes me wonder what your friends are going to say about me eventually.”

Ryan pulled Ash into him by holding his slim hips in his chubby hands. They had decided that it was best to go easy on the public displays of affection, considering that this was their first time out together as a couple. However, Ryan simply could not help himself.  “Oh, yes?” he asked keenly.

“I certainly don’t have any plans to put you on a diet,” Ash grinned, fingering the skin between the stretched buttons of Ryan’s beer swollen gut.

Ryan growled in lustful approval. His hands slipped onto Ash’stight, toned butt and pulled the guy in even closer.

“In fact, how come you’re not eating a big slice of wedding cake for me right now?” Ash teased.

Ryan moaned lightly. This was exactly what he wanted. He knew how much scrutiny he was under today. He could feel the judgemental eyes upon him, for his shocking weight gain, the fit of his tight shirt, and the fact that he was dating someone none of them had ever expected. He should have been nervous or self conscious. However, with Ash in his arms, Ryan had never felt more free to be himself. “But won’t that make me even fatter?” he teased back.

Ash smiled. “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that,” he joked, accepting the kiss that Ryan soon bestowed upon him.

Ryan felt Ash’s hands feeling his big, broad butt as they kissed; the pants he had been measured for only a week ago, starting to feel rather uncomfortable after only a week of dating the handsome twenty-four year old. The kiss ended and both of them laughed, realising how ridiculously long it had taken to get to this point. 

“Is this along the lines of what you had in mind for me?” Ryan asked moments later, pushing out his stomach as far as it would go and stretching those buttons even more.

Ash seemed thrilled, looking around the room in surprise that Ryan was making himself look so large in front of everyone that he knew at the wedding. He smiled, rubbing the underside of Ryan’s ball-like gut and then leaned in to whisper. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he teased.

Ryan growled in lustful appreciation, then took his boyfriend’s hand and led the way to the wedding cake.

Exactly one year to the day, Ryan and Ash were sitting in that same room, together with Jack and Michelle, celebrating a year since the wedding. They reminisced fondly, thinking about the perfect day it had been and laughing about how shocked everyone had been after Jack came back 30lbs heavier from his two week honeymoon. 

“You can’t be far off the weight I was this time last year,” Jack noted, surveying his buddy’s hefty appearance.

“Possibly,” Ryan nodded, rubbing his large stomach. “I still  don’t feel big yet though,” he replied, as if he was oblivious to the enormous ball-shaped gut and the groaning of the chair, supporting his wide butt and mostrous 347lb body.

“Unless I ask him to do something,” Ash jumped in comically. “Then he always says he’s too fat to do anything!” he joked, making everyone chuckle.

“I’m actually going to be pushing Jack to five hundred pounds this year,” Michelle explained, taking her morbidly obese husband’s hand as if this was an announcement that thay had been planning for some time.

Ryan noticed Jack staring at his face for a reaction; perhaps some surprise that his old school buddy was so ensnared by his beautiful wife that he was willing to take his weight gain to such extremes for her.

“He’s going to be a lot of work for you at that size!” Ash grinned conspiratorily at Michelle. “I hope you’re ready for that?” he laughed.

“Oh, I’m counting on it!” Michelle smirked, rubbing the 430lb man’s knee under the table.

“You’re a very lucky guy,” Ryan nodded at his friend in approval.

“There you go, Ash,” Michelle smirked. “It sounds like we may have another willing volunteer to join the five hundred pound club,” she nodded towards a jealous looking Ryan.

“You’re joking aren’t you?” Ryan laughed. “Ash is heading off on his second book tour in March. “I won’t be gaining anything for almost two months whilst he’s gone. I’ll probably just wate away!”

“You liar!” Ash teased him back. “Last time I was away, you pretty much lived on takeout and put on almost twenty pounds in a month,” he chuckled.

“I don’t remember you complaining,” Ryan smiled back; his voice dripping with affection and lust.

Michelle looked at them both, clearly wanting to cut through their mushy meanderings. “So, five hundred pounds?” she asked again, trying to circle the conversation back. “I’m getting the impression that you boys are kinky enough to enjoy seeing that on Ryan,” she pressed; ever the bad influence.

Ryan and Ash looked at each other with a wicked excitement in their eyes.

“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” Ash stated diplomatically. Unlike Michelle, he liked to be a little more discreet about his kinks and fantasies when it came to enjoying Ryan’s large body.

Ryan smirked and winked at his old buddy Jack. He knew exactly how to read between the lines of whatever Ash said. There was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to get Ryan to that size. And so, just like his high school best pal, Ryan was as good as setting sail for five hundred pounds. How insanely arousing was that?

“Eat up, my friend,” Ryan smiled competitively at Jack. “I’m coming for you, Fat Boy!” 

[pinksturniolo]

Play Date - A Matt Sturniolo One Shot

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

You call me on the telephone, you sound so far away

You tell me to come over, there’s some games you want to play

I’m walking to your house, nobody’s home

Just me and you and you and me alone…

Summary: The one in which Matt has been helping you babysit your 5 year old brother for the past couple years. Everyone in Somerville, MA knew him as the sweetest and caring guy, always helping someone when they needed it. However, you and him never got along, always disagreeing on most things. You and him had nothing in common. Well… maybe one thing.

Content Warnings: smut, angst, small age gap, fingering, oral receiving/giving, degradation, raw penetration, sneaking around, matt being a tough guy.

Based on this song: (pls listen it's so good and the lyrics are what inspired this one shot)

a/n: i'm sorry if the age gap makes anyone uncomfortable, everything depicted in this story is purely consensual <3

Winter 2024

You watched as Matt helped untie your little brother’s shoes and unzip his jacket, the two of them coming back in from playing outside. You had stayed inside on the couch, keeping warm while you worked on your English essay, watching them from the living room window. A storm hit soon after New Year’s leaving Boston in a blanket of fresh white snow.

He sets his shoes and jacket down, leading him to the kitchen to make him a cup of juice. Your brother adored Matt, there was no denying he was a great babysitter. A couple years ago, your mom started working out of town every other weekend, leaving you home alone to take care of your brother since your dad left when you were a little girl. 

Your mom had always been a strict parent, so naturally she didn’t trust you to be by yourself the whole weekend given the fact you were only 16 at the time. So, she asked one of her friend’s sons to help, who happened to be Matt Sturniolo.

Matt was trusted by mostly everyone, and your mom had known his mom since high school, so she had no problem with him being at your house. You, however, were extremely against this idea. You and Matt had never gotten along no matter how much you tried. You had known him since elementary school and from the moment you met, he always had an attitude towards you for some reason. Being that you were so stubborn, you didn’t back down from his sourness, and challenged him every chance you got.

He was a couple years ahead of you in school and always brought up the fact that because he was older, that somehow made him better than you. You refused to acknowledge that, butting heads with him constantly. It didn’t help that some of your friends were his friends and each time you guys were around each other, it was a constant competition. Who was better at bowling, who got first place in Mario Kart, who had the best golf swing. It annoyed your friends to no end.

When you were a sophomore, Matt would come over the weekends your mom worked out of town. He stayed during the majority of the day, taking care of your little brother. This also gave you the freedom to attend many of the extracurricular activities you were involved in. You took pride in being the top of your class and captain of the dance team. Matt endlessly teased you about it, calling you a “try hard” and “nerd”.

The time you did spend at home when Matt was there, you tried to avoid arguing with him around your brother. The three of you often went to the park, or got ice cream, never running out of ways to entertain him. The more time you had spent around Matt, it was hard not to develop a little crush. You would never admit it, but you admired the sweet side of him. He was good at taking care of your brother.

And he subtly started to flirt with you, teasing you over silly things, and checking you out when you weren’t looking. There was no doubt he found you attractive. But you frustrated him to no end, given the fact that you were so stubborn and weren’t afraid to voice your opinion when you disagreed with him on something. Matt liked to be in control, but you did as well. Still, he admired how hard working you were and your sensitive nature.

It didn’t take long before raging teenage hormones created sexual tension between you two. The summer before your junior year, stolen glances and accidental touches fueled the fire that had been growing over the years. One night when you were both alone, watching a movie after your brother had fallen asleep, Matt finally made a move on you. He would usually leave at nighttime, going back home to sleep so he could come back the next day and help you. But he decided to stay and finish the movie with you.

It had been a particularly good Saturday, and you had looked especially pretty that day. He couldn’t stop staring at you and when you asked him what he was looking at, he pressed his lips to yours, igniting a flame in you that you just couldn’t put out.

From that night on, you two snuck around every chance you got, whenever your brother wasn’t around or asleep, almost every weekend up until Matt graduated.

Making out on the couch until his hands found his way into your shorts and under your shirt, eliciting sweet moans from you while he thrust his fingers deep inside you. Pushing him up against the wall in the hallway as you got on your knees and took him into your mouth, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling and grunting until he came down your throat. A couple times, he even spent the night in your bed, using his mouth, hands and cock to make you cum over and over, in every different position.

As much as you both enjoyed the pleasure and excitement, there still was no denying the fact that you two despised each other. Maybe that hate was what fueled the passion between you two in the bedroom, but outside of that, you both never ceased the petty arguing. No matter the deep feelings you had for each other buried inside, it would never go past the sexual relationship you guys had built. Simple as that.

Once Matt graduated and started working in the adult world, he still took the time to keep his baby-sitting duties which you were grateful for, because at this point, you had started throwing yourself more into your schoolwork. You were applying for all the universities you could and taking extra shifts at Star Market you were working at part time. And then it came time for you to graduate, and you went off to college that fall, a few hours from Somerville. You had lost contact with Matt, neither of you taking the time or effort to reach out to each other.

✿

Now it was early January, and you were on winter break. You had come back home to visit and spent some time with your mom before she left on her work trip. Matt came over to help with your brother of course and this was the first time you had seen him since you graduated high school almost a year ago. He was now 20 years old, had let his beard grow out a little, and gotten several tattoos on his left arm.

Was it possible for him to get even more attractive than he already was back then? But you promised yourself you wouldn’t give into your past desires. You had too much to focus on and even though you were on break, you had an important English essay to finish. Besides, Matt had the worst attitude ever as soon as he saw you, making it easier for you to avoid him.

He was currently burning a hole into you with his pointed looks, glaring at you from across the room as your brother sat next to him, playing with his action figures.

You looked up at him from your computer, returning his dirty look. “Can I help you with something, Matthew?” You asked, knowing he hated it whenever you used his full name.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on break? Don’t you do anything for fun?” He said, referring to the fact that you had been typing away on your computer for the last hour.

You rolled your eyes, focusing your attention back on the computer. “Aren’t you supposed to mind your own business?” You responded.

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t really care what you do. I’m just tired of listening to your incessant typing.” He said with annoyance.

You ignored him, continuing to work on your essay while he continued to stare at you. You tried to focus but his piercing gaze distracted you. He sighed loudly and finally you slammed your computer shut, anger bubbling inside you.

“Fine. It’s not like I can focus with you acting like that anyway.” You snap, standing up to walk to the kitchen and get a glass of water.

To your annoyance, he follows you, leaning against the counter as you fill the glass and take a few sips. “Did you miss me, angel?” He says and you almost choke on the water, laughing as you set the glass down. “Don’t be ridiculous.” You reply, turning to face him. His eyes travel up and down your body, no shame in the way he checks you out.

“You still look hot. Brings back memories of when I had you all to myself-“He starts, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. You interrupt him though, grabbing his jaw a little roughly, smushing his lip together to prevent him from continuing whatever dirty thoughts he was going to say.

“Let’s get one thing clear, Matt. I came home to spend time with my brother, not to be bothered by you. Whatever you think we had in the past, you can forget about it. That will never be happening again.” You say sternly and let go of his face. He rubs his jaw and a dark look forms in his eyes as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “If you ever fucking grab me like that again, I’ll make sure you remember who’s really in control here. Don’t make me mad, Y/N.”

He then stalks off to the living room, leaving you there in shock, chills running through your body, a slight throb starting to ache in your core from just his words alone. Fuck. This was going to be harder than you thought.

After Matt left that night, you couldn’t help but let his words replay, memories from when he used to have his way with you cycling through your head. You just couldn’t deny your attraction to him no matter how much he infuriated you. You felt yourself growing wetter by the second as you thought about his voice, his large hands, what it would feel like to have his face between your legs again, his beard scratching against the inside of your thighs. Your fingers slipped inside your underwear, feeling the slickness there, circling your clit as you moaned out his name.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your phone, calling Matt. He picked up on the first ring as if he somehow knew you needed him. “Hello?” He answered, his deep voice rumbling through the other end. “Matt…” You breathed out. “I need you.”

His cock immediately hardened at hearing your needy voice, knowing you well enough to know exactly how you needed him. “Be there in 5.” He replied, hanging up the phone and grabbing his jacket. Luckily, your house was 2 blocks from his and he walked in the cold, heart racing as he reached your bedroom window, lightly tapping.

You let him in, your mouths instantly connecting, tongues tangling and teeth clashing. You kissed each other hungrily, wasting no time removing your clothes and his as you laid on your bed. He put his hands all over your body, kissing every inch he could as you whimpered his name. “Please Matt, I can’t wait any longer.” You said, the need to feel him inside you overwhelming.

He hummed in fake empathy, pulling you roughly by your hips, wrapping your legs around his lower back and lining his cock up with your entrance. “Listen to how pathetic you sound. So needy for my cock already, angel?” He said, slicking it up and down slowly through your wetness, teasing you.

“Yes, please, please…” You responded, not bothering to fight his dominance. You were too turned on to care. He smirked at this, giving in and pushing himself inside you, no resistance from how wet you were. “Fuuuckk…” He groaned, head falling down, arms resting on either side of your head as he thrust into you at a good pace, uttering filthy words in your ear. “You feel so fucking good. Better than I remember baby.”

You moan loudly as he picks up his pace, his hips slamming into you over and over, your tits bouncing in his face as he leans down to suck on them and squeeze them in his hands. “Don’t stop Matt.” You breathe out, and he has no intentions of doing so, eager to get you to your climax. “I’m gonna cum soon.” You say and he looks up at you, shaking his head. “Not until I say so.” He warns, coming back up from your chest and wrapping a strong hand around your throat, squeezing slightly.

He grinds against you for a few minutes before you can barely take it, ready to beg him for what you need. “Pleaseee Matt. It feels so good.” You cry, making him almost bust inside of you.

He starts rubbing fast circles on your clit, pounding into you at a relentless pace. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your eyes rolled into the back of your head in a state of bliss. “You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” He asks, his other hand gripping your thigh, leaving bruises.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” You yell. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.” He says, granting you the permission to release your juices all over him and he moans loudly feeling you clench around him. He’s not finished with you yet though as he pulls out of you and suddenly flips you around before you have time to catch your breath.

He pulls your hips up, so your ass is in the air and spreads your legs with his knee, putting his hands on your lower back. “I’m not done yet, angel.” He says pushing himself into you again. You cry out from how sensitive you are, burying your face in your pillow. “Fuck, Matt.” You whimper and he thrusts into you at a fast pace again, the sounds of skin clapping together and wet sounds filling the room.

You feel pleasure building in you again and Matt takes a fistful of your hair, pulling it, making you moan with pleasure. You feel tears form in your eyes, another orgasm approaching from the way Matt is pounding into you, hitting your g spot repeatedly. “Matt...” You whimper, unable to say much else from overstimulation. “You can take it, baby. Ahhh, You’re such a good girl- fuck. I know you can cum for me again.” He says in between shaky breaths, feeling himself get close as well.

You cum again, crying out his name, your head slumping into your pillow as he lets go of your hair, squeezing your ass harshly as his hips stutter and he releases into you. You feel his warm load paint your walls and then he finally pulls out, both of you out of breath and he collapses down next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, a hand coming up to brush your hair from your face, seeing how fucked out you are. “More than.” You reply, with a small smile on your lips. He smiles back and wraps an arm around you as you lay on his chest, both of you quickly drifting to sleep.

✿

The next morning when you wake, Matt is gone. You feel a slight emptiness in your chest but ignore it as you get up and get ready for the day. The weekend is over, and your mom will be home soon. You have lots of plans for the upcoming week and don’t have time to think about all the feelings he has seemed to stir up from the past.

However, you get a call from her shortly, guilt in her voice when she tells you about an unexpected extension in her work trip came up and she’ll have to stay another week. You’re disappointed but you understand it’s important to her and now that you’re an adult, she’s okay with you staying home with your brother alone.

So, it’s a surprise to you when Matt shows up a couple days later, not even bothering to knock on the front door as he saunters in. You and your brother were sat on the couch, watching TV after lunch. “What’s up.” He says nonchalantly, sitting next to you. Your brother immediately jumps up in excitement, going over to him. “Matty!!” He says, a cute smile on his face. “Hey, buddy.” He says back, ruffling a hand playfully through his hair.

You ignore how insanely cute the interaction is, scoffing in annoyance. “Have you ever heard of knocking?” You say in aggravation, Matt losing the smile as he looks at you. “You should probably lock that door more often. It’s not safe. Which is why I came over to make sure things are good over here. I overheard my mom talking to your mom about how she’s still stuck in Aspen on her work trip.” He responds. You simply roll your eyes and sigh, not bothering to argue with him.

“Whatever. Come on, baby. It’s time for your nap.” You tell your brother, and he gives Matt a hug before you take him to his room, reading him his favorite book as he falls to sleep.

You close his door with a soft click, walking over to the kitchen table so you can sit and work on your essay some more. Matt’s already there, reading what you’ve typed on the screen.

“Excuse me! What are you doing.” You scold, ripping the computer out of his hands.

He laughs, leaning back in his chair next to you. “Not too bad, Y/N. I knew you were a nerd, but I didn’t know you were that smart.” He teases.

“You’re insufferable.” You reply, ignoring him as you continue typing.

“Hmm, I beg to differ. That’s not what you were saying when I had your legs shaking-“ Before he can finish, you pinch his thigh through his jeans, making him yelp.

“Don’t be a jerk, Matty. We both know that night was a mistake.” You say, and he furrows his brows in pain, his eyes closing and breathes through his nose.

Then he grabs your hand from his thigh, placing it back on your leg and rests his arm on the back of your chair while he leans in closer to you.

“What did I tell you before, hm? Do you need to me to put you in your place again?” He says, the blazing look in his eyes making you squirm in your seat.

You look back to your computer, attempting to focus as he traces circles on your bare thigh with his fingers. “Matt. Stop.” You say, trying to sound stern despite the butterflies that form in your stomach.

“Why?” He replies, moving his hand farther up your skirt.

You grit your teeth, swallowing hard. “Because… I’m trying to study.” You say weakly now. Why the fuck couldn’t you control yourself around him?

“You sure about that?” He whispers now, voice filled with desire. His hand is completely disappeared underneath your skirt now, his fingertips soft as he presses them to your clit, a wet spot forming in your panties.

You sigh in desperation, Matt satisfied with the fact that he has you wrapped around his finger.

His lips ghost across your neck and he places a soft kiss beneath your ear, making you moan aloud.

“Just say the words and I’m yours, angel…” He rasps, his dick throbbing in his pants.

You suddenly snap out of it, pushing his hand away and abruptly stand up from your chair. He was not going to continue to just have his way with you.  “If you’re not going to allow me to study in peace, then you can leave.” You say harshly, leaving the kitchen.

You storm down the hallway to your room, Matt following closely behind. “Stop following me!” You whisper yell, trying to be quiet as your brother is asleep in his room. You reach your door, attempting to slam it in his face when he puts his arm out, stopping the door before you can. He has an annoying smirk on his face when you turn to glare at him. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” He says, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re a disgusting pervert.” You sneer at him, referring to moments earlier when had a hand up your skirt.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” He responded, the smug smirk on his face growing wider. “Don’t act like that’s the first time I’ve touched you… Like I didn’t just have you begging me to let you cum the other night.” He added, leaning closer to you, a dangerous look in his eyes.

You scoffed, pushing him away from you by his chest. “I don’t recall anything like that ever happening.” You say with disgust in your voice. You both knew you were lying, of course. But you had done your best to try and forget your momentary weakness that night.

“Why don’t I jog your memory then?” He speaks lowly, moving closer again, forcing you to walk backwards further into your room, closing the door behind him and locking it. Your heart races and thighs clench together, that stupid smirk still on his face as he wraps one hand around your throat, the other harshly gripping your waist and smashes his lips to yours.

You melt into his kiss, his grip on your throat making your pussy throb. “Stop being such a brat.” He says, backing you up against the wall of your bedroom. He removes his hand from your throat and trails it down to the hem of your shirt pulling it off you and then ripping your skirt down your legs once again leaving you in just your bra and panties. “But I love the reaction it gets out of you.” You say breathlessly, knowing he was only going to punish you the more you talked.

He attacks your neck with wet kisses, sucking and biting all the sweet spots he knew you loved, lustful moans leaving your mouth. He suddenly drops to his knees, ripping your favorite lace thong off you.

“Matt!” You speak. “What the hell?” You were definitely making him buy you a brand-new pair later.

“Shut up.” He simply replies taking one leg and wrapping it around his shoulder, burying his face in your cunt. “Oh fuck.” You groan, tossing your head back against the wall as pushes his tongue inside you. His hands keep a firm grip on your waist as he continues to fuck you with his warm, strong tongue, only pulling out to kiss and suck on your clit, driving you to the edge.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum, the sight of Matt willingly on his knees for you, his blue eyes staring up at you.

Once you finish, Matt stands up, ready to throw you on the bed and continue to have his way with you but you decide it’s time for you to take some control.

You push him onto the bed before he can say anything, and climb on as well, the look on his face priceless.

“Take off your jeans and your shirt. Now.” You demand, sitting on your knees in front of him, while he leans back against your pillows. He does so without any protest surprisingly, and once he’s left in just his boxers, you lean down, your ass arched in the air, and pull them off. His dick springs out, slapping his stomach and you grab it, taking him into your mouth. He groans loudly, putting a hand in your hair but you push it away, removing your mouth from him with a pop. “No touching.” You say, looking up at him seriously.

He smirks at you, raising both his hands in the air. “Yes mam.”

Satisfied with this, you lower your head down again, fitting as much of him in your mouth as you can, jerking the rest, and bobbing your head. The sounds he makes get you even wetter, and you moan around him, letting him brush the back of your throat. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good.” He coos, gripping your sheets as you prohibited him from touching you.

He slowly bucks up into your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper into your throat, one of your hands now resting on his thigh and the other grabbing his balls. You know he won’t last long like this and before you can make him cum, he grabs your shoulders, pulling you up to sit on him.

“Come here, angel. I want you to ride me.” He says and you straddle him, sinking down on his cock. You both moan out at the feeling, and you start to bounce on it, putting your hands in his hair and tugging.

He guides your hips, helping you ride him, the air in the room now hot and thick.

“Look at you, so fucking needy. You just can’t get enough, can you baby?” he says, groaning as he watches himself slip in and out of you.

The feeling of him deep in your guts has you back in your submissive state, just nodding at his words, moaning his name. “Yes Matt.”

“Mm, shit, you look so beautiful, dumb for my cock like this.” He continues, knowing exactly what to say to bring you to that edge again. His fingertips dig into your hips, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

You lean your head against his shoulder, starting to get tired but still chasing that high.

You puff hot breaths against his neck, lazily leaving sloppy kisses.

“Want Daddy to help you, honey? Want me to make you cum on my dick again?” He rasps and all you can manage is a whine and nod against him. “Please.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he starts bucking his hips up, slapping against you roughly and you scream out, the grip in his hair becoming tighter. He’s so deep inside you at this angle, the pressure is almost overwhelming, and you can do nothing but take it, whimpering his name over and over again.

You reach your orgasm, cumming all over him and he finishes soon after you, biting into your shoulder as he does. He holds you for a little, both of you catching your breath, before you climb off of him.

You lay next to him while he rubs a hand up and down your legs, tracing small circles on your hip.

“You know, if this is how the rest of the week goes while you’re here, I won’t complain.” You joke and this makes him laugh, pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t worry angel… I’ll help you finish that essay too.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you both fall asleep.

[yurinaa-world]

hello!! platonic dr ratio with a teen!student reader who excels at one particular subject but is bad or average on the others? also lacks social skills

(kinda inspired by me lol 💀)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dr. Ratio platonic! x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with student reader who excels at one subject but is bad at the others + lacks social skills

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff and spelling mistakes, got lil personal

𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜

He’s so strict about your grades, looking at you with disappointment as if a parent would when their child an F. What? does the information just go through and out one ear? (it does for me 😀)  Can your brain handle one sentence at a time since it doesn’t look like it to him with these embarrassing grades?

He immediately got you into summer school so you could at least try to get good at other subjects, one subject won’t get you a future. Even worse with fact you can’t even talk without staring endlessly at your paper contemplating just to ask him the most simple question.

The man knows no mercy, making you write out several essays over the whole summer but just like every teacher that wants to suck the souls from students he’ll make you plan every tad bit of detail, even refuse you from starting to write if one detail isn’t explained and well thought out enough for him.

Then oh don’t forget to make the rough draft of the essay (it’s more like writing the real essay itself with the way he’s being strict with every typo & grammar mistake, but oh don’t think you're going to get this using simple and basic words like “in conclusion.” or “well, I believe.” Throw those out the window along with every other basic sentence that people use to put up the word count or just get the whole thing over with. He isn't accepting it. No exceptions.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Blank.

You’ve been staring at the next part of your sentence but unsure how to use the word “Magnanimity”. How were you even supposed to use this in a sentence?! (he made you pick several high-level words to use in an essay), you look up to silently curse your teacher, Mr. Ratio out in your head before immediately looking back down when your eyes connect.

You begin to contemplate, that maybe jumping out the window ain’t bad, it might be your only way to get out of here. you sigh, just giving up on your constant stalling, getting up from your chair (with your paper in hand) and walking over to your teacher, dreading every step you take.

Before stopping at his desk, “Mr. Ratio, could you tell me what the definition is for magnanimity again?” He just sighs, closing up the book he always reads. (You don’t know why he always reads the same thing, it’s so boring.)

“Magnanimity means the loftiness of spirit enabling one to bear trouble calmly, to disdain meanness and pettiness, and to display a noble generosity.”

you stare at him blankly, he wasn’t kidding, he seriously expected you to know what he was saying?! “I’m sorry but what does that even mean?” you whisper your voice cracking with frustration, you just feel a blood vessel getting bigger.

He sighs once again “Showing kindness towards an enemy or you had been defeated in battle. using it in a sentence would be like he showed magnanimity towards his enemy, understand?” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you Mr. Ratio” You nod taking in his words. “Let me see your essay.” He tells you out of the blue, holding his hand out to see your paper, which makes your mouth dry. “you have something written, correct? Let me see it.”

You give him your paper and watch in nervousness before he begins to read out loud “A great man once spoke mighty wor-“ “Mr ratio please read it in your head!”  you cut him off with panic, yet what a fool you are since when was he merciful? “a great man once spoke mighty words…”

Listening to him read your essay made you cringe and close your ears. He’s the worst!

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[agendabymooner]

9 to 5 || f1 drivers (5)

(SPIN OFF OF COLOUR ME YOUR COLOUR (WIP) and RUSH)

Summary: Lorelei Hester ‘Lester’ Alessandro is a bassist first and Daniel Ricciardo’s partner second. But it seems like another role is added to her resume as she begins her weekend in Baku as Toto Wolff’s children’s babysitter. 

Chapter summary: Daniel Ricciardo stopped by to say hi to what the team principals had considered as threats to their drivers - it was very hard not to get distracted by Soren and Tia Wolff after all. AND Lester Alessandro envied the Wolff cubs' intelligence as Soren was already on his fourteenth short story on a Thursday noon (he just started reading the book that morning).

Content warning: family-centric content, people trying not to swear in front of children, Uncle Danny content, Australia references, Christian Horner mentioned, Hearth sister!OFC x Max Verstappen relationship, Hearth sister!OFC x Charles Leclerc relationship. 

masterlist

v. the little weapons of destruction distraction

Fourteenth story. 

They were barely halfway through the day and Tilly and Toto’s eldest son had finished thirteen fairy tale stories. The thick book of Grimms Fairy Tales, if she was being truthful, would be something that she’d be able to read in the span of three days. Six hours, if she was motivated enough. 

But as she sat there with her own book opened, she couldn’t help but wonder if Tilly worked extremely hard on getting these children to read a lot. 

Lester knew that the kids she was babysitting were fluent in four languages, but she didn’t know if fluency came with the fast paced reading comprehension skills that Soren obviously had been showing. 

Soren Philip Alphonse Wolff was born to an unmarried couple, Tilly Marie (Hearth) and Toto Wolff. When he was born, it was almost like the wall that Toto used to protect his heart broke down. Despite the obvious features that came from Toto, Ren was more like Tilly, if you were to ask Lester or anyone close to them. Timid, shy, but if you ask him about his books and the characters, his eyes would brighten and he would endlessly ramble about it. At the age of five, you would think that he would be talking about dinosaurs (he likes dinosaurs) and rockets (and he likes rockets too) but not Soren. Soren would share his interest in children’s literature to anyone who would like to listen.

So it somehow didn’t come as a surprise when the boy finished his thirteenth story and moved on to the next. He was so occupied by it that he could hear no one but the characters and the background noise. 

“Zia Lori,” a tiny voice beside her spoke, making the bassist turn and give Tia a smile. The girl looked up at her aunt and raised the colouring book that she was just working on. “Do you like it?” 

There were colours outside the lines but Lester could tell that Tia tried staying inside the shapes while she used different crayons. Paddington had never been this vibrant until now. 

Besides from the initials of her name, Tia Christie Vienna Wolff had more commonalities shared with her namesake. She had Toto’s temperament and the way of how she thrived to colour without going outside the line just proved how she was practically Toto’s carbon copy. 

She had a tendency to get frustrated whenever she sat herself down in front of the shape sorters and she couldn’t fit the right animal on it. The first time she (a year and a half during that time) threw the blocks out of frustration, bewilderment was written all over Toto’s face. But when he turned to look at Tilly for an explanation all she said was, “Haven’t you looked at the mirrors lately?” Still to this day, Toto’s reminding his mini me to take a breather first before her temper goes down to shit. Her perfectionism and the frustration that came with it? Yeah. That was all Toto, and ironically, neither of the parents had ever set some expectations for the children. 

“Like it? What do you mean? I love it!” Lester exclaimed, giving the little girl a high five. 

“But look,” Tia pointed at the colours outside the line, “this is bad.”

“No it’s not,” Lester shook her head, “that’s an accident, and an accident isn’t bad sometimes.”

“What’s acc-ent?” Tia tilted her head, curious about the foreign word that came out of her aunt’s mouth. 

Lester chuckled, both at her curiosity and the fact that she could speak as much German and French (and Italian) as she'd like yet not know the word accident in any language, “It is when you do something that you did not mean to do. Like… Oops!” 

“Ah!” Tia nodded enthusiastically. “Acc-ent!” 

“No, no, Tia,” Lester instructed, “follow Zia Lori… ready?” 

“Mhm!” Tia nodded again. 

“A…” “A…” 

“…k…” “…k…”

“si…” “si…”

“…dent.” “…dent.” 

“Accident!” Lester said the word faster.

“Accident!” Tia repeated with a clap of her hands. 

“There we go,” Lester nodded approvingly. She should teach kids about phonics. It seemed fun to teach. “You do so well at words. Do you read with Mama every night?” 

“Yes,” Tia said meekly, shying away from the woman as she continued, “Mama reads English… and French… and I-t’lian! But she only do French and English more. Papa teaches Italian.” 

“Ahh,” Lester nodded. “It must be exciting reading with Mama, eh? How do you like it?” 

“I love Mama! She reads so well,” Tia paused while she thought of something, “but Papa can do Eeyore more. He sound sad! I love Eeyore! But! So-en reads books to me too!” 

The little lad sitting across the two paused from reading and looked up from the page he was reading, wondering why he was called by Tia. Not sensing any cry for help, Soren returned to his book. 

“I hope Adelmo— when he grows— he can listen to me read,” Tia said with her eyes twinkling. “I can teach him F-ench! Like Mama!” 

According to Tilly, Soren and Toto often hover over Tia. They tended to be more protective when it came to Tia—perhaps it’s the effect of being the only girl in the family. Soren loved his sister a lot and would always read her books, trying to raise her as another version of himself.

Toto loved his kids equally, no doubt. His older kids (not with Tilly) were the subjects of his love alongside his little ones, but even they couldn’t deny that Tia was the most loved one. 

But it seemed like Tia, despite being everyone’s favourite, loved her little brother Adelmo more. It never caused any rift between siblings, but Tia tended to be protective of Adelmo more than anyone. 

At least none of them were bitter or arguing over who liked who. They all loved each other equally. It was just an observation that Lester had done. 

“He’ll grow soon enough, Tia,” Lester told the little girl. “But, right now, he has to feel better so when you get home… you can tell him about your trip with Papa.” 

“Hey, hey! Are those the mini Tillys I’m seeing?” The kids’ eyes widened at the voice as they turned and gasped. 

“Zio Danny!” “Oncle Dan!” 

“I have different names in different languages,” Daniel hoisted the two kids up in his arms as he grunted, “You two are becoming more like your dad. So heavy and tall!” 

“Not tall enough,” Soren crossed his arms with a huff, “Papa is tall like a building!” 

“Godzilla!” Tia exclaimed as Soren nodded in agreement.

“Or… Or King Kong!” It was Tia’s turn to nod enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, he’s incredibly tall, indeed,” Daniel turned and walked towards his girlfriend, leaning forward to kiss her on the temple as he asked, “What have you and the little wombats been up to?” 

“Wombats?” Soren slightly shoved himself away from Daniel’s face as he asked, “what is a wombat?” 

“Ahh, I forgot, you haven’t been to Australia yet,” Daniel let out a ‘tsk’ with a shake of his head. “Your Mum and Dad are depriving you of those little adorable creatures! We need to get that fixed. Tell your Mum or Dad to take you there next time.”

Lester chuckled quietly before finally answering, “We have been doing a lot of colouring and reading so far.”

“‘s that right?” 

“Yes,” Lester insisted with a widened pair of eyes, “too much reading if I am being honest.” 

“Oh! Uncle Dan!” Soren placed his hand on top of Daniel’s head, making the Australian look at him with a slight frown. “Guess what? I’m reading Hansel und Gretel!” He shook himself off from Daniel��s hold and grabbed the opened book from the table, raising it as Daniel looked down at the book.

A frown etched on Daniel’s face as he said, “Ren, lad, I can’t understand this.” 

“What do you mean?” Soren asked. Walking up to Lester, Soren raised the same book for her to read. 

At least Daniel and Lester could agree on not being able to read German. At this rate, they’re both thinking that Toto and Tilly were raising intellectuals. The next Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Hypatia of Alexandria, if you would ask either of them. 

“That explains why Uncle Daniel can’t read it,” Lester found herself chuckling, “we both cannot read German language, Soren.” 

“Oh,” the boy murmured, “okay.” 

“But are you loving it so far?” Daniel asked, now sitting next to Lester with Tia perched on his lap. 

“Yes,” Soren nodded eagerly, “I am about to finish the story!” 

“Such a smart boy,” Lester complimented Soren, the little boy’s cheeks turning red at the compliment. Much like Tilly, her children always shy away from the compliments thrown their way. They were the sweetest children that Lester had met. It was probably because her younger siblings and her nephews and niece are just chihuahuas in the form of human beings.

Lester looked up at her beau, “I am more worried that you’re here and you’re not where you’re supposed to be now.” 

“I got here first before any of the people in the grid does,” Daniel told her smugly. “Some of them are just hearing that the kids are here this weekend and it will be an absolute disaster if all of them found the two at once.”

Tia and Soren Wolff were what Lester could call the tactical team of Mercedes. Well… of any team to be fair. Anyone from other teams could get easily distracted by the kids. Jenson at some point had joked about the two working for their father in Mercedes to distract Red Bull’s drivers hours or days before the race. 

At some point Christian had wanted to ban the kids from visiting their motorhome, but why? The kids were toddlers and entering the school-aged stage. They know nothing about tactics and driving besides from “Papa! Look, cars go fast!” But they still had Tilly’s heart and the drivers, if you were to ask anyone on any team, enjoyed being around Tilly. The Wolff kids often lifted the spirits up in the grid. 

The most fortunate driver to spend his time with the children would be Lewis Hamilton. Not only did he drive for Mercedes-AMG but he was Soren’s godfather. He had been Tilly’s best friend first before Toto was Tilly’s partner. Toto had gotten more softer on him once Stevie changed her surname to Hamilton on Valentine's Day. The other two didn’t stand a chance. 

Max Verstappen was certainly trying to be on Toto's good side. It took him a good while to convince Sylvie, his now-girlfriend, that he hadn’t meant to screw her over once— so you could barely imagine convincing Toto that. Not only was he trying to appease the older man, but he had an opportunity to prove that he’s a good uncle to the kids by babysitting them. Perhaps to prove that he would be a good father as well, but it wasn’t the right words to say in front of Toto Wolff, of all people. 

Charles Leclerc was fairly close to becoming a welcome face at some point, if it hadn’t been for the fact that some gossip page decided to take the context out of a private conversation where he said that he wouldn’t have a child with someone who nearly broke him one way or another. He was speaking of an ex-girlfriend who wouldn’t let go. But once that the story had spread out and his girlfriend had gotten a hold of it, she ran straight to Toto. Yeah, no. Still to this day, Toto wasn’t as convinced that Charles’ intention was to remain true. 

But still. Tia and Soren were what the team principals assumed to be Mercedes’ little weapons of distraction. Especially with Max Verstappen? Yeah. Christian Horner definitely did not want the kids near him during the race weekends. But it wasn’t like he could say it upfront. Max was fairly close to marrying Sylvie. Max’s family was practically connected to Toto’s. 

“Who was the first to hear that?” Lester asked her beau with a brow raised. 

“Charles,” Daniel answered with a shit-eating grin, “but he can’t get out of his media duties.”

“Wow, if Ferrari only made time for their strategies instead of putting their drivers in front of a camera for their spare time,” Lester feigned satisfaction as she sighed dramatically, “just imagine the podiums that they could get.”

“A lot!” Soren piped up before his guilty eyes looked up at the adults, “I am sorry, Zia and Zio. Papa and Mama said it is rude to listen to adults talking.”

“No, it’s alright, mi niño pequeño,” Lester smiled sweetly at the boy. “Thank you for apologizing.”

Daniel only shrugged, “But he isn’t wrong.” He and Soren exchanged grins. 

If there’s anything that Lester had learned at the very beginning of her relationship with Daniel, it would be that he would be one to encourage Soren to say something that a smart-ass would say. Tilly told Lester once that Daniel was the devil on her shoulder back when she started in her racing teams in 2014. Like that shoey during the Silverstone 2014. That was all Daniel.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Soren nodded at Daniel’s approving look. Soren was smart, indeed, and clearly Daniel’s trying to “corrupt” his brain with mischief and whatever it was he’s concocting at the paddock. 

Maybe this was what they meant when Soren and Tia were Mercedes’ weapons of destruction. And they were both being influenced by a Red Bull driver. Ironic.

[whatislovevavy]

II. Dogfight Football and Pool Tables

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x afab!pilot!reader 

Word Count: 5.7k

Series Summary: Mustang and Hangman have had sexual tension since the night they met at the Hard Deck at the start of a high-risk assignment. Each interaction further solidifies your callsign in the best ways. 

Warnings: 

Series overall: Sexual tension, swearing, smitten and sexually frustrated Hangman, swearing, and mildly insecure and shy reader, smut; p in v, oral (fem + male) receiving, dirty talk, dom!Jake, hint of sub!Jake

Author’s note: Hopefully you guys liked part I :) I did my best to make the reader’s physical attributes as ambiguous as possible when it came to descriptions to make it more inclusive to the reader. I want to get better at this so please feel free to leave constructive criticism or something you thought was strong or weak with the piece. Please be kind with criticisms. I'm sensitive. I’d like to thank @call-sign-jinx and @sebsxphia for betaing (?) each part of this fic, they’re both really sweet and write some good shit on their blogs, so be sure to check them out :)

I will be going through my followers and accounts that leave notes, especially on parts of this story that has smut, and if the blog doesn’t have an age on it, the blog will be blocked. 

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

These characters, except for Mustang, are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

Happy reading :)

—

Jake couldn’t help but listen to your voice through the radio every time he sat with his teammates in the lounge waiting for his turn in the sky. You cared so much about everyone, both in and out of the cockpit; always checking in, encouraging others on the team, and exchanging playful quips. And it didn’t help that you were one of the best pilots he’d seen, but he wouldn’t admit that out loud. If he had to pick anyone flying a single seater that was a serious contender for team leader, it was you. The plane was merely an extension of your own body when you were in the sky, coming the closest of the group to getting Maverick out on the first day. 

Sure, you and Jake bickered, and he did everything in his power to rile you up and get under your nerves, but that was the only real contact he got. 

You had started to rub off on him, enough for Coyote to notice. Jake made him promise he wouldn’t tell a soul, as he was incessantly mocked and teased when he returned to his dorm at the end of the day. 

Hangman found himself perfectly tuned into anything that related to you in conversations; all info immediately became engraved in his memory. Whether it was stories about growing up with wild horses and the feisty blue roan mustang mare you trained during your teen years, Sweet Girl, whom you loved endlessly; or the time you accidentally flashed everyone at a Maryland beach when you were 23; or even the fact you didn’t like ketchup because it was too sweet and that your all-time favorite songs were by Fleetwood Mac and John Denver, but your favorite farm chore songs were by Doja Cat, Nicki Minaj, and Megan thee Stallion; starting as a form of rebellion against your parents but growing into adoration. 

All the little things that made up who you were.  

He secretly cherished the moments he got to see you and hear your soft voice, and found himself missing your signature lavender scent and close proximity when you were gone. 

Hangman would never admit to being jealous, but he was a bit jealous: he didn’t get to do more with you than just teasing and verbal jabs, and while it was fun riling you up, a deep part of him that he was still trying to comprehend wanted to get to know you on a more personal level. 

He fantasized for something like the night you met to happen again; he hadn’t come close to witnessing what he got a taste of that first evening. No matter his jabs or nicknames that secretly started to grow on you.  

Of course, a deep part of him enjoyed this chase but a part of him wanted to finally lay claim to your heart. 

His episode with Rooster the day before hadn't helped to ease such tensions and the confrontation only soured his shared glances with Mustang. Jake understood why the glances had soured, but frankly, he didn’t know why he did it.  Maybe it had to do with being jealous of the sweet attention you gave Rooster and that he’d never had to put this much effort into being with a woman. 

That early evening when Rooster opened his front door, he didn’t see Hangman standing before him. A completely different person must have been standing at his door with matching green eyes and tanned skin, wearing a look of remorse that he would never associate with Hangman. Rooster initially wanted to slam the door in his face and go back to bed, but the way Jake’s eyes held something so foreign to his character tugged at his brain to hear him out.

Bradley wasn’t blind, he saw the way Jake looked at you when you weren’t looking and even when you were with him and Natasha. He saw the subtle differences in his demeanor when you were around and how you affected him, making him more tolerable without even realizing it.

He silently realized that what stood before him was your unintentional doing, as Jake stood there and owned up to what had been said. 

Bradshaw accepted his apology, closing the door as Jake left. He shook his head, quietly laughing to himself that someone who had only known Jake for 3 weeks was the only person he knew who had made Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin genuinely apologize. He couldn’t wait to tell Phoenix.

—

Maverick had told them to meet on the beach behind the Hard Deck at 9 am sharp for dogfight football.

Tensions were high. No one had successfully completed the mission training parameters, and the set date was a mere week away.

As the game started, you were a bit hesitant to show your competitive side. Maybe it was because you liked seeing people underestimate you and proving them wrong at the 'perfect moment'. You spent your whole life doing that, so it was only natural you took joy in it. Your competitive spirit was something akin to a secret weapon; to be used with full force to deal lethal damage.

Once you let it out around the whole group, it wasn't going back into hiding anytime soon. Rooster and Phoenix were well aware as they knew you from previous stations, and Bob had heard stories, but the rest were left with only recollections. Encouragements from Phoenix got you to bring it out in small doses and cheers from your teammates let it flow in full force. And maybe also the prospect of giving Hangman a run for his money contributed its fair share.

Under the scorching San Diego sun, Jake “Hangman” Seresin truly understood your callsign. Mustang. It encapsulated who you were to the core into an eight-letter word that made some none the wiser, himself included.

He felt something foreign bloom deep in his soul at the realization. Your presence invaded his senses and struck a chord deep inside him. You looked beautiful, free, wild, and completely forged by the land you occupied: The Navy. Your eyes were sharp, full of excitement, adrenaline, and pure competitive determination. Hair that was coming loose from your ponytail, revealing bangs that framed your face beautifully. Skin gleaming in the San Diego sun, chest heaving from exertion, sweat misting your collarbones, cleavage, and gliding down your stomach and thighs. 

A complete 180° from your shy, flustered demeanor the moment you had met eyes. 

If someone didn't know you worked with wild horses as a teenager, they wouldn't believe you did. You were a force to be reckoned with and he found himself more addicted to that realization by the second. A navy blue sports bra framed your chest tastefully. He tried not to divert his attention from the game to your beautiful breasts for too long. He needed to prevent drawing suspicion from his ever-observant teammates and developing a precarious situation in his lower half that only the frigid San Diego waters could cure. His Ray-Bans helped to hide where his gaze landed on the opposing team, but it wasn't foolproof.

The shrill sound of a whistle broke him away from his thoughts. Commands and playful taunts were being thrown back and forth. Payback passed the football to Harvard who made his way down the makeshift field of Maverick's exercise. Hangman ran the opposite side of him to provide an opening in case Phoenix or Rooster shut him down. Harvard got cornered and passed the football to him. It felt like slow motion, he felt the football graze his fingertips but was snatched away by a smaller frame before he could fully grasp it. He heard the distinct whoops and cheers of Rooster and Phoenix as you made your way down the beach to score a touchdown. You were unstoppable. No one could touch you. You were like a wild stallion swallowing the land beneath you, feet thundering in the wet sand, hair blowing wildly in the ocean breeze. It was unfair for someone to look as beautiful and free as you did at the moment. You made it to the end zone with a sliding stop and did a shoulder shimmy with your tongue stuck out with a full-blown smile. If he hadn’t developed a hard-on before, he was starting to now. You confidently made your way back to your team, met with cheers and high fives. He was frozen in the sand near the opposite end zone. From the moment you stole the ball to your full-blown smile; he was still, staring at her. He knew he could have chased after you and tackled you but didn't. He would get shit for it. 

"Bagman, you getting soft?", Harvard teased him.

"In your dreams", Hangman bit back, tinged with his Texan drawl. His defensiveness gave him away but Harvard didn't dare push him. Hangman had a reputation to keep up. Of being untouchable, the best of the best, and, most importantly, that he didn't need anyone to help him get the job done. He left Harvard and confidently strutted back to his position in the lineup at the start of the next round. His thoughts were tinged with a mild sense of worry; if Harvard noticed his state then the others may have as well. This was the last round. His team was down by 1 point. He needed to get his head together.

He watched you line up behind Phoenix. "You ready Mustang?", Phoenix called.

"You know it, Phe"

"You're not gonna get through us so easily this time, Mustang", Hangman taunted.

"Don't worry Ken-doll, I'm not too worried about you. If it's anything like how you've been playing lately, I should be fine ", shooting him a wink.

Your remark was met with “oohs”, sizzling noises, and Rooster asking if he was gonna take that.

Hangman's jaw tensed and his face wore a smirk, "Whatever Mustang, put your money where your mouth is, and let's get this round started" he shot back. He mentally kicked himself for not coming back with a better comeback, but he wasn't used to seeing this side of her.

Hondo blew the whistle and with expert precision, the ball was passed into your awaiting hands. Pushing yourself against the receding sand into a sprint, your bright eyes watching for an open teammate. You were about to pass to Halo when you felt a pair of large, strong hands grasp your waist and tackle you to the beach. You fell down with a groan and weight on top of you. The face of your tackler obscured by the sun, you squinted your eyes. You were met with a pair of green eyes and a soft, muscular body on top of her. Hangman. Your cheeks and neck started to heat up and prayed he wouldn't notice and be disguised by the heat. You still had the football in your grasp so it didn't count as a turnover. You could still win the game. Why hadn't he done anything? He could have easily grabbed the ball and run with it; instead, he just stared at you. Anyone would admit, he was easy on the eyes: strong jaw, sun-kissed skin, sun-bleached sandy blond hair, washboard abs, and the most beautiful green eyes you'd ever seen. It’d be a lie to say you hadn’t thought about him in the depths of the night alone in your room on base. You felt the initial feelings of nerves you experienced start to develop but quickly extinguished it. You let yourself admire him in his state of undress for a moment, but you had a game to win. You weren't going to let some Texan stud who hit on you ruin this for you, you were raised better than that. Besides, you hadn't found yourself being this competitive in a while and were enjoying the rush it gave you.

Instinctively, you swiveled your hips and turned Hangman on his back. He looked breathless, eyes darkening under the shadow of you, as he let out an audible shaky breath. You quickly rose up off his abdomen and started sprinting, football held tightly to your chest. Hangman was still in the sand scrambling to get up and hide his developing problem, by the time you were close to the end zone with Fanboy and Harvard hot on your tail. You held them off and made the winning score. Your face was marked by the same victorious smile Hangman couldn't get enough of as cheers and whoops left your soft lips. You were met with high fives and let out a yelp as you were lifted onto rooster’s shoulders as your teammates chanted your name, all while Hangman was met with hushed chuckles from those who saw Mustang's hip swivel move and a "what the fuck was that Hang?" Great. 

What was wrong with him? He'd never let someone get in his head, much less twice in a period of 5 minutes. 

As the effect of the victory died down, his teammates, including Mustang, headed into the hard deck for refreshments, he overlooked Phoenix and Rooster talking to each other in hushed whispers and sneaking glances at him every few minutes with mischievous smirks on their faces.

"Bagman, you seemed off your game today. The fact that you're not the best at everything getting to you?" Phoenix taunted as she made her way over and crossed her arms across her chest.

Hangman flipped her off and rolled his eyes, "the damn sun was in my eyes"

"Oh, was the sun in your eyes when you were on top of Mustang? Or when you were eye fucking her during the lineup, where the sun was behind you?"

She stated with an amused expression and widening smirk, having unexpectedly exposed him to anyone close enough to hear their conversation. Rooster joined the two, hearing the end of the interaction, "she's got you there Bagman", wearing a smirk and amused gleam in his eyes.

Hangman composed himself, "I wasn't eye fucking her, I was merely...inspectin' the competition,” shrugging, clearing his throat.

Phoenix and Rooster let out snorts and amused chuckles.

"That's such bullshit man and you know it, anyone with eyes could see what you were doing".

“It’s true”, Coyote added as he passed by with a knowing look in his eyes, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Ya know what? Fuck you guys, I don't have to explain myself to y'all", agitated, Hangman bit back before grabbing his stuff and storming away to the Hard Deck.

He could hear their chuckles and “damn, he has it bad. Wait till he sees her play pool" comments but didn't dare turn around. He tried his damnedest to keep up his facade of complete confidence and indifference towards you, swaggering into the Hard Deck.

He was met with a wave of refreshing AC and an empty bar. Not surprising since it was well before happy hour, but odd since he didn't spot any of his teammates that migrated in. He called out for Penny; no answer. His teammates didn't respond either. He was about to leave when he heard a back door creak. You came out, occupied by your phone, sporting a low-cut rodeo t-shirt and blue jean shorts. You looked around for Halo that promised to wait for you but were only met by Hangman's appreciative gaze. You were taken aback but recovered with a smile and small wave. He returned the favor. 

"Do you know where the others went? I was supposed to catch a ride with Halo back to base".

"You know I didn't see anybody come in. I can give you a ride home if that's what you need sweetheart," giving you the same panty-dropper grin that ensnared you the moment you’d met. This had only been the second time in 2 weeks he could get some real alone time with you, and he wasn't going to waste a second.

You blushed at his endearment, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Jake...."

He loved it when you called him Jake. It was a first; he wanted more of it.

"Anytime darling, I'd always be eager to satisfy your needs," he said with a wink, "but first, I wanna experience that pool game of yours," He said turning towards the pool table area and sporting a wolfish grin. 

You felt like you were going to melt into a puddle on the Hard Deck floor, watching his toned arms flex as he took down two pool sticks.

He turned back to you, basking in the effect he still had on you. You had serious game and he wanted to pull that out of you, just for his eyes to see this time.

"Don't get shy on me now, sweets, you had some pretty serious game out there today" he said while leaning on the pool table, attention occupied with polishing both pool sticks with chalk.

You spent an embarrassing amount of time admiring his golden, nimble, strong fingers working the chalk cube over the thin tip. He could have broken it off if he wanted to. You wanted him to use his fingers in more fulfilling ways.

He met your glazed-over eyes and gave the same panty-dropper smile he always had at the realization of where your attention was focused. It was the same one he gave you the night you met him and across the room during training debriefs. Rooster and Phoenix observed these moments and were able to put two and two together. You were teased incessantly, but also warned of his whorish ways by the pair during their hangouts in the dorm you shared with Phoenix.  

You quickly diverted your attention back to him and made your way to the pool table, reaching out to grasp the pool stick, grazing your fingers against his in the process. You met his playful, mirth-filled eyes and shifted your focus to racking up the pool balls. You knew you wouldn't be able to handle watching his dexterous fingers work anymore and needed a small outlet for your pent-up nervous energy and simmering sexual frustration. 

Your bent frame over the pool table gave Jake the perfect view of your jean shorts riding up and revealing the tasteful curve of your ass. You heard him let out a low hitch in his breath, smirking to yourself. You were starting to gain back your composure, turning the heat up on the brewing competitiveness inside yourself. You were good at pool, winning some tournaments around your hometown. You even beat Coyote, Payback, and Phoenix once. Your dad and older brother taught you the game, as well as to never let emotions get in the way of winning, but that was proving difficult to follow. 

He saw a distinguishable shift in your demeanor as you asked if he wanted to go first.

"Ladies first", admiring your reignited confidence.

You lined up the starting shot, feeling his watchful eyes on you. With a resounding clang, the balls were scattered. 3 solids into 3 pockets at the opposite end. You rose to your full posture with a small smile.

"Your turn Bagman".

Jake was pretty sure he fell in love at that moment. There you were; as clear a difference as Jekyll from Hyde.

He approached where you were at the table, " that's Hangman or Jake to you, princess". His tone was low, hearing your breath hitch at the new endearment, making eye contact with you as he shot 2 stripes in. Smirking, he rose up and lined up his next shot, proud of each little hitched breath or blush he pulled from you.  He made a bolded and underlined mental note to call you “princess” in these moments more often. 

You were settled right across from him, directly in his line of sight. You leaned down giving him a tasteful glimpse of your cleavage as you watched his strong arms carry out his concentration. 

His olive green eyes met yours, hiding lust in their depths as they trailed down to your chest, a black lacy trim peaking through. 

"Ya know maybe your right, I should find something else to call you. Especially since ‘Bagman’ would be more fitting if you actually helped your team win today, maybe with bagging a point or even a touchdown." You said with a playful gleam in your eye.

Your statement and teasing met his senses the moment he pushed the rod forward. His trajectory off, failing to pocket a stripped ball.

He rose up, jaw tense, and met with a smirk. You were playing with him, taunting him like a wild stallion with a green ranch hand. 

"Yeah well, sweets, I was a little distracted, so hopefully you can find it in your heart to forgive me, the sun being in my eyes and all."

"Mhm, definitely the sun's fault. Was it the sun's fault when you were on top of me?", you said as you lined up your shot. 1 solid into a pocket, 4 more left.

You leaned against your pool stick, holding back a laugh at his speechless face. Hangman speechless? That was a sight.

"Well, darling... you see...", he tried to muster the words, much to your amusement. Clearly, you were keen on observing him. 

"It's ok, you could say the sun was in my eyes too", you interrupted coquettishly as you raked your eyes up his frame, admiring his physique in his tight-fitting athletic shirt.

" I don't mind being admired by beautiful women, especially women who can go toe to toe with me", he said smirking, trying to regain some semblance of control as he watched you line up and sink your 3rd hit of the afternoon.

Heat rose to your cheeks, remembering his forwardness the first night they met and his face when you swiveled your hips to get on top of him. You only had 3 balls left.

“It seems like you just have a thing for women who can beat you. You ever think that you just might have a competency kink?” you asked amusedly, eyes still purposely preoccupied with your shot. 

He smirked, he just fucking might, admiring the way your muscular back arched to line up your shot, your eyes sharp, and full of determination. 

“Ya know I'm not gonna lie, sweetheart, that little move you did back there was something else... In fact, everything about you since we met has been something else," he said moving to your side of the pool table. He invaded your personal space in the best way, leaning next to you against the polished wood of the worn pool table.

"It got me thinking about what other kinds of riding you might enjoy", his hushed drawl dripping like honey into your ear. It didn't make your aim any cleaner and you missed your 4th shot of the evening, sending him a scowl to disguise your less-than-pure thoughts. 

God, you would let him do horrible things to your body in front of your conservative Christian parents if he asked.

"What? don't like it when someone plays dirty princess?" He said with eyebrows raised in a patronizing tone that made you shiver and clench your thighs to relieve the bubbling heat that settled in your abdomen. You needed to compose yourself if you were going to win this, but your resolve was dwindling by the second.

"Well, sweetheart, it seems like you don't mind either," you said in a last-ditch effort to regain the upper hand, running your pointer finger along his defined pectorals. 

He let out a hitched breath he didn't know he was holding. You were going to be the death of him. One second he was in control and the next he was below you, right where you wanted him. You were wild in that sense and he loved this back-and-forth chase for dominance. At this moment, he would let you do whatever you wanted to him; he could definitely get used to it. 

You looked at him through your lashes innocently with mischievous eyes and a playful smile, your hand retracted and now fully leaning with your arms crossed across your chest, further accentuating your tits to his wanton gaze. 

You liked seeing him all hot and bothered, he clearly wasn’t used to it. 

He leaned down to your ear, his Texan drawl low and gravelly with arousal, "you're playing a very dangerous game, darlin'."

"You seem to have forgotten that I'm good at playing games…and winning them," you said with a tight-lipped smile, winking at him, turning away to go to the other side, "it's your turn by the way.”

God, he wanted to do filthy things to you on top of the pool table. But he wanted you to crack first, give you the final push towards passion. 

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. Lining up his shot, feeling the weight of your lustful gaze, his eyes met yours. Eyes filled with mirth as lust bubbled below the surface, a small cat-got-the-cream smirk adorning your face. 

The last thread of his resolve snapped.

Rising to his full height from the table, he placed the pool stick on the table. He gradually invaded your personal space, caging you between his hard chest and the wooden frame of the table nudging into your lower back, with his weight supported by strong, toned arms on each side of you. Their faces a mere few inches away from each other, his hand reaching up to caress your soft cheek. The feeling of his rough hands on your skin made you shiver, meeting his intense gaze. He waited for any hesitation or unease to show under your eyes but found none. 

His hand cradled the back of your neck and cheek as he claimed your lips with his, stealing any air from your lungs. You let out a small moan at the feel of his soft lips. Your hand gripping the material of his shirt in your fist unconsciously as the other met the short hair at the back of his neck, running over the clipped hair there. Smirking into the kiss, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, bringing his opposite hand up to hold your other cheek. After a few moments, they pulled apart gasping for air, his hands still encompassing your face, as he leaned his forehead against yours, letting his eyes softly close. An act of softness and intimacy you wouldn’t have expected from him. 

 "I really hope that was alright because I don't think I can recover if it wasn't", he spoke breathlessly.

"It was more than ok, trust me", reassuring him, toying with the chain of his dog tags and feeling the material of his shirt. 

You slid your hands along the chain, feeling the pebbled texture run between your fingers as they traced towards the small metal engraved tags that rested on his warm chest. Once your fingers reached the small pieces of metal, you yanked him back to your lips by the chain. He smiled into the kiss as his hands moved from your face down to your hips, grabbing a handful of your ass. He grabbed the backs of your thighs to wrap around his waist, supporting you on the edge of the table. Your hands moved behind his neck to bring him impossibly closer, continuing to run your hands over the back of his head, savoring the texture of the short hair at the base of his neck.

His large hands grasped your hips, starting to slide under your shirt, feeling your soft skin.

"Is this what you want ?" He asked making his way down your neck, kissing and sucking at the sweet spot at the base of your neck that made you mewl and weave your hands into his hair, leaving a dark blue mark you’d have to worry about later. 

  You nodded eagerly. 

 "I need you to use your words, sweetheart," he said trailing soft kisses up the column of your neck, grazing his teeth on your pulse, and pausing to meet your glazed-over eyes and plush lips. Your fingers still intertwined in the short hair at the base of his neck.

  "I need you so bad, Jake", you mewled. 

He let out a shaky breath at the use of his name and the feeling of you tugging at his roots, quickly and passionately resuming his ministrations.

"Don't worry, sugar, I'll take good care of you...." He said between kisses, trailing them down your flushed neck and the tops of your breasts, hands coming up to play with the lace of your bra.

  “But…”

Your eyes shot open, worry plaguing your eyes like ink in water. 

"As much as I want to absolutely ruin you on this pool table, it wouldn’t be right to damage Penny's only pool table," he gave you a reassuring smile, “and, I don’t know about you, but I want you all to myself for our first time and not worry about anyone catching us.”

You’re core throbbed, a low noise escaping the back of your throat, your chest heaving. First time? Anyone catching us? 

His hands gave your ass a squeeze as his eyes widened a bit at the realization, a sly smile growing on his face, taking in the treasure before him. 

“Sweetheart, I really don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he said, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, “I want to take you out, romance you, meet that pretty mare you got back home, stargaze in the field outside my parents' ranch… “ he smiled into kiss placed behind your ear, “and you seem really into the idea of getting caught,” he licked from the base of your throat to your ear, you shuddered, tugging on his hair, “and I would never be opposed to fulfilling my girl’s needs, no matter the time…Or place”, he said nibbling on your earlobe, smirking into your flushed skin at your breathless whimpers. 

My girl. His endearment and actions made you blush and try to hide a bashful smile by burying your face into his shoulder. No one you could remember had this effect on you, and it scared you just as much as it made you dizzy. 

Jake kissed your temple and looked at you with a hopeful, longing gleam in his eye, a bright genuine smile, his adorable dimples showing through.

Up till now, you assumed this would be a one-time hookup and after two more weeks, you’d never see each other again which disappointed you more than you would care to admit. After all, that was how Hangman seemed to handle all his one-night stands, as you’d heard through the grapevine. But he wanted to take you out? Meet Sweet Girl, your pride and joy back home? See where you called home? Take you to his home? And then he was back to doing sinful things to your body? 

“I would love that,” you said smiling and breathless. 

He beamed at you, showing his pearly whites, and brought his lips to yours again. 

“Fuck, your lips are like candy,” he moaned against your lips. 

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, “Jake, please...”, you mewled with a pout. Your face was flushed, your eyes glassy, and your lips were kiss swollen. You looked perfect; all needy and ready for him.  

A smug grin spread across his face, you were so desperate. It only inflated his ego more.

“Please what? I’m having trouble understanding you”, his smug eyes contrasting his furrowed eyebrows and faux confused expression.

You huffed, tensing your jaw, and rolling your eyes, “Jake-”

“Come on, let me hear it, princess,” he laid kisses along your neck. 

Rolling your eyes, huffing in annoyance, your resolve eroding by each kiss laid to your pulse, “please fuck me, Jake.”

“Atta girl, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” he smirked, “I know you’re desperate sweetheart, but your gonna have to wait till we go somewhere else before I can fuck you properly” He chuckled at the low whine that escaped your throat as you pouted. 

You were absolutely adorable. 

He smirked and kissed your pouted lips, still holding your hips against the pool table with his own, thinking about all the surfaces in his shared dorm he wanted to christen with you.

 “Well….”

He looked at you with piqued interest and raised eyebrows, your eyes filled with a sense of shyness and excitement. 

"There's always the pool table on base… and nobody uses that one anyways" you bashfully smirked, trying to hide a full-blown grin. 

He could have sworn he felt the last drop of blood leave his brain and flow to his dick at your words.

"Fuck, I love the way you think". He said lifting you off the table and leading you to the Hard Deck parking lot to his truck; paying no mind to the absence of their teammates' cars in the parking lot. He opened the door for you before running to the driver's side. He started the ignition as you littered kisses on his neck and reached out to caress his inner thigh, reaching for his cock through his jeans.

"Sweetheart, if we're going to do this, I need to be able to drive us," he said, hissing as you found the sweet spot behind his ear, sucking, biting, and soothing with your tongue, leaving a hickey in its wake. His hands tensed on the gear shift and steering wheel as he felt your hand graze his abdomen and sneak into his jeans, squeezing his bare length. 

"Then what’s stopping you, cowboy." You purred, pausing your assault on his neck and meeting his lust-glazed eyes with a hushed, breathless tone. 

“You need to behave if we’re gonna do this, Sweets”, he groaned feeling your warm hand on his length.

“Or what?”, you challenged. 

Jake grabbed the back of your head, fingers tangling firmly in your hair to bring you mere inches close to his face, “Well, sweetheart… I won’t let you cum and I really don’t think you want our first night together to end like that. It would be such a waste after all your hard work.” His lust-blown eyes were awaiting a challenge, but they were only met with a hitched breath and a low noise from the back of your throat. 

He slammed his lips to yours, slamming on the gas to break multiple traffic laws to get back to base, feeling your hot gaze on him the entire way home. 

___

Taglist: @potato-girl99981​

[alienaiver]

Chapter 2: inches

Chapter summary: Becoming the crown has not been easy - you’re not sure how far you’d gotten without Sugawara’s grounding support. You’re no closer to solving your father’s assassination than before and it’s wearing on you - until an endlessly kind but loud visitor reveals information that might be useful in your search for answers.

Warnings for this chapter: the mentions of parental death is still a theme and there’s some behavior that definitely does not scream self-care (not taking care of yourself)

Wordcount: 7.9k

Chapter content: fluff, sfw, fantasy AU, royalty AU, mild angst, genderneutral reader (so neutral that both men and women can also insert themselves), poc and bodytype! friendly reader, no use of y/n, intense use of ‘your majesty’ is still very much a thing, theyre very soft your honor

notes: heres chapter 2!!! so far this is personally my favorite but we’ll see if i change my mind when i finish the final chapter! i also think this chapter is far less stunted in the medieval/fantasy-inspired language use which im very proud of! its very fun to see the improvements! thank you again for reading and for all your kind comments on the previous chapter! feel free to crucify me for being seven (7) minutes late posting this, since my cat sat on my pc and made me drop my pc to the ground OwO kdjskdskf

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” It’s common for the advisor’s study to be near the crown.” You tell Sugawara as he browses his bookshelf for a certain document. He hopes you don’t see the wince he tries to refrain from doing in your presence. It’s a subject he’s been avoiding – the tower where his study lies is inconvenient at best and inaccessible at worst. Asking the crown of the kingdom to climb the winding staircase each time they want something from him seems excessive – which is exactly why it’s common for the advisor to be close to the royal quarters.

But Sugawara’s attached. This is his domain, his corner of the castle that he’s turned into his own castle. The stained-glass windows that light the desk just right in the afternoon sun and the way his tea is the perfect temperature at arrival after he has carried it freshly brewed from the kitchens locks him into place. He’ll do whatever you ask of course, but he was hoping you wouldn’t.

“Would your majesty like me closer?” he asks as he drags his pointer across files, searching for the one containing information about climate crisis laws. He hears you suck in your teeth and he has to bite his own lip at the mental image of you he has right now, you’re cute when you’re frustrated. “I often find you here, roaming, existing. Would you like to stay?” you counter him with another – unexpected – question and he finds himself biting his cheek. “I shall be where you want me, your majesty.”

He hears you flop down and is not at all surprised at the position you’ve situated yourself in on the armchair when he turns back around. Only around him do you allow yourself to sit in such improper positions, but he doesn’t seem to mind – feels lucky that you trust him so. You sigh and blow out air dramatically, puffing up your cheeks. He smiles gently at you, “I did not intend to offend, your majesty. I only meant to serve.”

You huff and look away, your arms crossed over your chest before you bite out, “and yet you avoid answering my question.”

Sugawara sighs and leans against his desk with his palms on the edge. He looks at you, “it’s inconvenient and-“

“For whom?”

He raises his eyebrows at you as you interrupt him and you elaborate, “for whom is this inconvenient? It is a very lovely space you’ve carved for yourself over the years. I would like my advisor to be comfortable as well, not just correct and proper to old customs.”

Sugawara’s been your advisor for little more than a month now, but nothing takes him more back than when you go against the customs or traditions to make him feel at ease or like he matters. He doesn’t feel worthy of such accommodations, yet you continue to throw them at him. He has to lift a hand to hide his laugh behind a palm, taken aback once again by your almost childish yet considerate and mature way of behaving.

You snicker, a triumphant smile on your lips as you straighten your back, “it’s settled then. This will be the official quarters of the royal advisor and official business not directly related to the court shall be conducted here from here on out.”

“Eh?” is all Sugawara is able to get out, eyes wide and eyebrows shot up to his hairline. You laugh and dismiss his confusion with a shake of your lifted hand, “it’s fine, Sugawara. I can see that you’re comfortable here and I’d hate to take it from you. I am serving you as much as you are serving me.”

He doesn’t agree with that sentence but he also knows when to argue with the crown.

“Well, thank you, your majesty.” He bows at you and you nod back, “it is my pleasure.”

   Your coronation went well and you’ve been the official ruler of the kingdom for four weeks. You’ve been doing a wonderful job, even if you’re sometimes fickle. He can schedule a meeting with a petitioner on Wednesday that he knows you’re aware of but suddenly you’re sword-training with the Royal Guard or riding into town on an errand for the kitchen, even if it’s never been your job to begin with. He’s had a hard time explaining to you how the errand boys rely on tasks like that for some loose coins but all you end up doing is paying the errand boy for letting you do it.

You remind Sugawara too much of your father and as much as he likes that side of you personally? It’s a nightmare professionally.

Okay, nightmare might be a stretch if he’s being honest because you feel so alive. While you have a habit of neglecting some responsibilities, you are building wonderful and deep relations to the people of your country, working up an image of a reliable and down-to-earth crown – which is needed, after the tragedy of your father’s death. It took a stronger toll on the people that any had imagined, so seeing you uplifting your kingdom is both refreshing and healing.

So he doesn’t say much to you about it. Observes you quietly from the entrance of the gardens, watching you plant seedlings with the maidens and blushing as you spar with none other than Sawamura, overthrowing him with a sword to his neck, triumphant smile on your lips. He’s embarrassed to admit that he wishes it was him, the compromising pose of your win stirring thoughts of what your lips currently look like – and how they’d feel.

                                                          ///  

 “There’re not many leads to go on, anymore. The trail ends at Kotohira, the border town near the assassination site.” Sugawara scratches his head, frustrated as he looks at the map you’ve made together. You’ve written down any leads, notes and reports and sorted through them, trying to decipher where there might be a leak you can latch onto, but nothing seems to give.

You sigh as you pull off barbs from your quill one by one and ignore Sugawara when he scoldingly shrieks out a “your majesty!” explaining how that quill was a present from Prince Oikawa of the neighboring kingdom, Seijoh. You groan and throw your head back as you drop the quill on the desk, “he’ll survive, I suppose. I believe he might be more ticked off that I didn’t respond to his condolences letter.”

Sugawara sighs and relaxes his shoulders with a kind smile, “he’s your friend, your majesty. I doubt he’s any more ticked off than worried about you.”

With a guilty expression you sigh and nod, picking at the puffed sleeve of your shirt. The velvet of your vest is hugging you nicely and the color makes your shine all the more obvious. Sugawara smiles, “I’m aware of how frustrating this is, but I assure you, your majesty, that we are doing everything possible to solve this. And hey,” he nears you and places a hand on the desk in front of you, still not daring to touch you directly, “we’ve gotten farther than I imagined we’d be able to. I’m sure more will come up when Daichi returns from his scouting.”

And he’s right, you know this. But the time you’ve been spending in this stuffed map room has started to suffocate you and set roots up through your spine. Grief doesn’t come to you easily and while the tears have made their way through you a couple of times, it still doesn’t feel real that he’s gone yet - only unfair.

You suppose that is a feeling of loss, too. You wish it was less frustrating to lose someone.

Sugawara retreats from his position over the desk and straightens his back once again to become cross-eyed looking at the gathered information. With a clearing of his throat he once again goes over the economic distributions of the Hiashi region, specifically the two villages he was assassinated in between, unable to find the faults that he’d like. After the drought, the crown spent an adequate amount of time – if not more than advised – helping rebuild. Both with a physical presence during the crisis but the monetary value sent their way wasn’t anything to scoff at either so Sugawara finds it hard to establish the connections he wants with the location of the assassination. There’s not much else to do but wait for Sawamura to return with – hopefully – new intel.

There aren’t many people involved. Besides you and Sugawara, only Shimizu, Sawamura and Azumane has been entrusted with the entirety of the investigation. With a shorter leash and fewer intel, a few guards under Sawamura have been entrusted to support the scouting missions.

 A knock on the open door is heard and you both turn your heads to see Yachi, Shimizu’s apprentice and – to Sugawara’s knowledge, lover – stand with a tray of teas. She timidly smiles and bows, “I come with afternoon tea. I-I’ve been looking for you in several locations, so I apologize for being sweaty!” she hastily says but immediately freezes after letting out the embarrassing phrase. You smile gently and beckon her closer, “thank you for going to such trouble for me, Yachi. That is very kind of you.”

Yachi smiles tersely before she enters on your demand, “I apologize if the tea is only lukewarm now, your majesty. I will happily fetch a new pot for you if needed!”

You chuckle and shake your head as you help Yachi prepare the cups, “I’m like my father in this regard, I prefer it lukewarm.” You wink at Yachi as if imposing on her a little secret, and the blush on her face is satisfying to watch. Whether it’s because the matron’s apprentice thinks you’re beautiful or simply because you’re her majesty, you’ll never know, but she’s adorable, nonetheless. Sugawara shakes his head at your behavior as he tries to take over from you. Yachi has started pouring the tea with skillful calmness and you lean back on the chair you’re situated in. “Oh! Your majesty!” she suddenly exclaims halfway through pouring the second cup, seemingly remembering a very important detail. You perk up at both the sound of your title but also the sudden loud voice she used. You nod and she sheepishly bows and apologizes for yelling in your presence. You dismiss her with a smile and she straightens her back, “a runner arrived a few short moments before I was sent here, so the matron told me to deliver the news. Emperor Bokuto is on his way from Fukurodani and will arrive within the next week.”

That perks both you and Sugawara up. No scheduled visits from anyone are in your radar for at least another month – not to mention the annual visit between the two kingdoms was completed by your father. Yachi bows and grabs the tray, “well then, I’ll return to the kitchens. Emperor Bokuto’s runner will be in the servant’s kitchens for a few more hours, I believe. Then we’ll instate him in the west quarters, if that’s to your liking for the Fukurodani Empire to rest when they arrive?”

You’re barely out of the stupor from the news, so you mindlessly dismiss her with a wave, agreeing without really knowing what you’re agreeing to. Sugawara takes over and politely thanks Yachi as he follows her to the door, telling her to say hi from Shimizu from him. As he closes the door after Yachi’s departure, he also steals a glance your way. Your underlip is worried between your teeth and your eyes look far away, like you’re not even in the room. Your body is lounged on the chair, but there’s no denying how tense you look, any care for pretenses thrown away. You’re worried.

It was early and quickly determined that the assassination of your father had nothing to do with Fukurodani – or any other empire for the matter, thanks to the few survivors. The attacker’s dialects were all from Karasuno and the few attackers that passed away or didn’t make it out was confirmed to be locals from the region in which the former crown was killed.

Early in your investigation, there was suspicions of hired contractors but it seemed highly unlikely to be the neighboring empire of which you were on such good standings with. Sugawara sighs theatrically as to call you back to the room, and you react as he expected by returning your gaze to him, “do you think…?” is all you seem to be able to get out.

Sugawara shakes his head and smiles kindly at you, walking back to his prior position on the stool next to the wall where he crosses his legs and furrows his brows, “hardly, your majesty. The relationship between us has never been better or more profitable than now. Fukurodani would do themselves a disservice to cut such a tie.”

You nod, about to zone out again so Sugawara continues, “however, I believe that Emperor Bokuto might fear that our thoughts lie there. He might just seek to rectify any misgivings.”

You smile and reach for your tea, “possibly. I guess he wouldn’t announce his arrival either if he planned for unfriendliness.”

Sugawara agrees. As he’s about to get up to reach for his teacup too, you hurry to reach for it and stretch out your arm towards him, “I hope you enjoy lukewarm tea too, I apologize I didn’t ask before I told Yachi not to fetch fresh water.” You grimace out your apology and Sugawara can’t help but feel butterflies flutter around his organs at your thoughtfulness and at the face you’re making. He gets light-headed just from knowing that he’ll probably be the only one close enough to see such reactions from you. When he reaches for his teacup in your hands, his fingers brushes yours and in a moment of electrifying excitement, you drop the teacup and you’re both brought back to reality by the sound of the fragile ceramic cup break into a thousand fragments, tea spilling onto both of your garments.

For a moment there’s complete silence as both your gazes are turned downwards to the mess you’ve made. No one moves until the door is abruptly forced open (it wasn’t locked, they had no such need to be this aggressive) as two guards come in, frantically calling for you. “Your majesty, are you alright!? We heard…!” A guardsman under Sawamura, looks at the scene before him and immediately relaxes his stance, even if he still looks tense. His partner, a smaller one with bright orange hair, does as well and laughs, “I’m so glad you’re safe your majesty!” he exclaims and you look up at the two guards in confusion.

They both hurry to straighten their backs, “we were walking past the room when we heard the crash!” the taller one explains and you nod, confusion still obvious on your face, not oblivious to the orange one’s starstruck facial expression towards you either. Sugawara tuts at them, “you can hardly call a teacup being dropped a crash. Also, you two,” Sugawara sends them a look that makes both of them tense up and the scene before you feel almost comical, “weren’t you supposed to be scouting with Daichi today?”

The small one hitches his breath and the dark-haired one looks directly at Sugawara flatly, “he told us to protect the crown instead… sir.”

Ah, Sugawara gets it now. While Sawamura always takes good care of his subordinates – and enjoys training them – these two has caused him more than enough trouble already. He probably took Tanaka and Nishinoya with him instead for the sake of the secrecy.

You start laughing as you get up and bow to the two knights in front of you, “thank you for your continuous hard work.”

Sugawara’s about to scold you for making fun of two freshly picked guards, but the way their eyes light up at your praise makes him realize that they might not be completely in on your teasing. They introduce themselves to you with straight backs and a pitch in their voices as Kageyama and Hinata. You salute them and introduce yourself as well as if they wouldn’t know your name. Sugawara shakes his head at your antics and you smile gently at the two as you put a palm up to your face to block Sugawara’s line of sight to your mouth, “I do need another protection from the two of you!” and they lean in excitedly, ready to partake any quest given by their crown. You lean in as well and in a whisper-voice tell them, “I need a new teacup for my advisor. You see, if he lacks tea, he will mercilessly make me recite laws I have yet to remember. Is there a possibility that you can call for a maid and bring about a new cup from the kitchens?”

The determination in their eyes is flawless, surprising Sugawara as well. They bow to you before they salute you, “we will return shortly, your majesty!” before they start bickering about who should exit the door first.

As they leave the room – with the door unclosed – you can hear their voices ricochet in the hallway, “did you see that, Kageyama! They spoke to me! I got to meet the crown before that stupid Tsukishima!”

You let out a chuckle, “new recruits?” you ask and Sugawara nods, “yeah. I heard they’ve been troublemakers for Daichi though.”

It makes you snort, “I can’t imagine how.”

                                                          ///  

 The days up until Bokuto’s arrival passes in a blur. Official visits from other royal entities are usually meticulously planned from every angle. Firstly, their sleeping quarters need to be of a certain standard before arrival, meals and their related purchasing and planning are done a great deal beforehand to ensure highest quality of product, entertainers and minstrels are usually called in before arrival and settled in while the royal host’s schedule is altered so their time spent with the guests are adequate and satisfactory. Sugawara hasn’t known such busy days in the name of chaos before.

Sure, his workload is usually time consuming and all-encompassing to his usual duties, but the stressful chaos in organizing all of these factors with every part of the staff drains him.

He also never really saw himself as an organizer of that sort. That was more in line with Azumane and the head servants.

Sugawara’s in his study, reading up on the agreements made between the two kingdoms. He knows them by heart – but he refuses to misspeak if any of the terms come up in front of neither you nor Bokuto himself. He’s by the bookshelf, biting the inside of his cheek mindlessly as he tries to go through his own crow’s feet of notes to make sense of them. For reasons unknown to him, you’re here as well. He’d imagined you’d be busy with fittings, but you dodge his questions when he prompts them. Your quirky behavior does not always make much sense to him, so he simply lets you stay.

“There was talk of Bokuto’s arrival later today,” you say and Sugawara merely entertains you with a hum. You sigh exasperatedly, moving around in his chair to try and gain his attention. He humors you with no such thing. “The maids are all aghast and giggling through the halls. They’re swooning every time someone mentions his name.” you peer up at Sugawara but another indifferent hum leaves him, merely to mark that he seems to notice you finished your sentence.

“Well, Emperor Bokuto is quite handsome, isn’t he?” you try, doodling random constellations down onto the parchment in front of you on Sugawara’s desk. Sugawara keeps himself from visibly frowning as he stares harder at his own scroll, “his head’s full of white and gray hair,” is the first argument that comes to him, “and he’s so full of himself.”

Before Sugawara has even realized you’ve gotten up, a hair is plucked from his head and you fall back down onto your (his) chair in a relaxed pose not befitting the crown at all, spinning the strand of his hair between your fingers, studying it, “so are yours and that’s also fairly handsome, isn’t it?”

He straightens his back and wills his blush down. Through many years of training as the royal advisor’s apprentice, he’s become good at keeping his face neutral as to not let any information slip in unfavorable situations. However, Sugawara has a weakness and you have a feeling that he might not even be aware he’s suffering from such, but his ears have a habit of showing plainly what his face skillfully hides to the public – the flushed red of them seamlessly revealing the true emotion he’s suppressing.

You pretend to study the strand with more intensity as you keep him in your peripheral vision. You almost feel bad for him. A smile plays itself unto your lips upon seeing him flustered like this.

Sugawara clears his throat and you think his annoyance can be tasted in the air, “your majesty, am I correct to consider this teasing? If so, I would like you to refrain from such on a day as today.” He tries and you sit up properly, nodding at him with a salute. He sends you an unimpressed glare before turning his gaze back to his papers, “you’re hiding, aren’t you.”

It’s not a question, but a statement.

You look pointedly at the table, deciding to study every crevice and vein of the wooden desk. You hear him sigh as he turns his entire body towards you, making a point out of dumping his papers on the corner of the desk. “Your majesty, your competence as a leader is not measured simply in battle strategies or economics, you’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

You nod and like a child, keep your eyes downward. You’re well aware that being overwhelmed by something as simple as festive arrangements will be talk between the servants – and inevitably their families, and their families and then the chain continues. You can’t keep letting Azumane stand with all of the arrangements.

But how are you supposed to know what color curtain is appropriate for royalty? This part of the crown’s weight came easily to your father as well, and a pang of longing hits you. You wish he was here to tell you which colors would absolutely offend Emperor Bokuto and which wouldn’t.

Sugawara squats down to be in the height of the table as he tries to catch your gaze. When he succeeds, you’re blindsided by the absolute kindness emanating from him and his bright eyes. You hitch a breath and feel locked in place, like by a spell.

And there it is again; the smile you’ve come to love so greatly. It’s warm, like the sun and all-encompassing, like a hug. The ones where you’re being squeezed just the perfect amount. He quietly clears his throat as if warning you that he’s about to use his soothing voice, “I know how overwhelming this is, your majesty. I believe it’s a very natural reaction to absurd circumstances. I don’t believe that we’ve had to – at any point in history – prepare for royal visits on such a short notice as this,” Sugawara reaches out for the first time during his supportive speeches to you and touches your hand. You can’t help but notice how warm and soft they are – how they compliment yours. He seems to ignore the way you flinch ever so slightly, “I believe in you.”

The words are so sincere and you can feel his encouraging energy come off of him in waves as he holds your gaze for a moment longer. Against your will you break the eye contact in favor of your heart’s longing to look at his lips. They look soft and inviting. Subconsciously, you lick your own lips and don’t notice the way Sugawara’s ears again flushes red.

You shake yourself out of your stupor before you hope Sugawara notices and straighten your back, “thank you, Sugawara. Your confidence has given me confidence.”

He hurries back up from his crouched position and clears his throat as he corrects his cravat, “that’s what I’m here for, your majesty. I would not support you if I did not believe you’d succeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do.” As he finished his sentence he also sends you a pointed look that tells you, with no room for argument, that you have some work to do as well.

                                                        ///  

 You’re standing by the grand entrance to the Karasu Keep in an over-glamoured robe, your jewelry carefully picked by Azumane. There’s the Moonstone, gifted to you by Emperor Bokuto himself, as well as the ring his late mother had picked out for you as well, once you’d joined your father on his visits. Your pants are uncomfortably tight on your midsection and Azumane’s frustration about the length still lingers in you – he’s skillfully hidden the surplus of fabric in the brown leather boots you’re standing in, balancing on your heels as you wait for Bokuto’s arrival. Next to you, Sugawara stands in his robe too, sending you a careful smile.

Sawamura and his finest men are by the vestibule, ready to salute Bokuto with raised swords as he in very few moments will arrive. It’s been quite some years since you last met Bokuto and while nervousness doesn’t exactly explain how you’re feeling, there is tension in your shoulders.

Bokuto’s close to you in age and eight years ago when the original negotiations proceeded there had been brief talk of the two of you marrying to unite the kingdoms. Being momentarily betrothed – however short – still made your heart race even if it was all disregarded right after the talk had been on the table.

You’re ripped out of your thoughts when the sound of a horse’s hooves rounds the courtyard in rapid succession, signaling a horse in gallop. There’s whisper behind you but you’re not surprised as Bokuto rides in, all pride and fun, riding a round and sending his killer smile to the maids ready to receive him and his men. You might even witness him send a wink or two to the poor stable boys throwing him heart-eyed glances as they observe his proper riding posture as he yells out a greeting to everyone, “hey hey hey!”

As he nears you, he slows down his horse and pats its neck, keeping eye contact with you. The horse quiets down and the stable boys stand ready to receive the noble mount. Bokuto lets out an airy laugh as he greets you on his way down, “there’s no better place to ride with the wind than here in Karasuno. The wilderness and mountains perfectly help the experience!” he says, dragging a hand through his face and up through his hair before he gives you a hug. It’s a bear-hug, one you wouldn’t ever have initiated yourself with someone you’ve met so few times. But that’s also what you like about Bokuto, you think. When he pulls back he also lowers himself into a bow before reaching for your hand and giving it a kiss, “I am pleased to meet the new crown of Karasuno Kingdom. I’m so sorry for the loss of your father. He was truly a great man and crown.”

The officiality of his demeanor surprises you but you find a warm smile emanating from your face at his consideration. You nod back at him and offer your first words since he came in as a whirlwind, “thank you for your kind words, Emperor Bokuto. I am pleased to welcome you to the kingdom.”

He snickers as he levels you down, seemingly approving your behavior, “I’ve had a tedious journey, but not too long that I shall decline a wine and a talk. My men will arrive in moments with offerings and need for rest.”

You nod and raise your arm to point the attention on the servants, chamberlains and stable hands standing at the ready, “they’re all ready to accommodate any and all of your demands during your stay. Rooms have been prepared as well as hot food. You can rest easy that your men will be treated as they should.”

He nods and drags you by the shoulders, “let us go and talk, the two of us then. My fiancé shall arrive with the remaining entourage but he stopped to have a look at the local town first. I, however, was impatient.”

You throw your head back in a laugh, “I see that,” you turn your head to Sugawara and motion for him to follow you, “my advisor shall be joining us though I assure he will be no nuisance.” Sugawara trails behind you towards the courtroom where afternoon tea and refreshments has been put out as Bokuto loudly talks of his experiences with the locals on his journey.

  Bokuto clears his throat after tasting the wine and says your name in a manner that makes your shoulders tense for a moment. Then, he continues, “I am truly sorry for your loss. Your father was in no worthy measure I can articulate, meant to be crown. He both inspired and guided me when I ascended the throne just a few years back. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the burial.”

You dismiss Bokuto with a kind smile that you hope exudes forgiveness, “I know he was in your thoughts so there is no need to apologize. I’m glad he was of such importance to you and your kingdom.”

 Sugawara’s sure that Bokuto haven’t seen it, but he saw the clear shift in you at the mention of your father. Sugawara’s been by your side almost as much as Azumane has since his inauguration and he’s well aware of how stunted your grief process currently is. Grief is erratic, hard to predict but easy to push aside in favor of more manageable tasks – and you’ve had no shortages in such as the new leader of an entire kingdom. The conversation stays on your father and his deeds for a while longer until Bokuto steer them towards a heavier subject. After confirming that there’s no suspicion towards the Fukurodani Empire, Bokuto sighs a sigh of relief and hardens his eyes to start a new subject. One where Bokuto sends Sugawara a wary look, clearly contemplating whether or not he should open his mouth in front of him.

With your sharp eye, you notice this and turn your head toward him as well, “Sugawara is my most trusted ally in every aspect of both my life and work. You need not hold your breath in his presence.”

Bokuto nods at that and clears his throat, “your majesty, suspicious rumors met my ears on my travels to the kingdom. I originally journeyed to show my condolences but also to make sure our relationship did not change. Of course, I also wanted to welcome you into your role as leader and show my support of you,” he takes a sip of his wine as you nod, “through your lands I rested at inns and taverns. I enjoyed riding ahead, announcing that the emperor of Fukurodani was to arrive soon and book the rooms ahead of their coming,” he laughs at this and you think that it’s very like him to do so. After all, he does like to meet the people in a genuine fashion – especially in a country where his face isn’t necessarily known. You bet that he’s been relishing in such new kinds of attention.

“But in traveling like this, I also heard the tavern talk of genuine people. And through the duchy neighboring our borders was the first sign of brewing trouble.”

He sends you a hard gaze, “your majesty, while I’m aware you’re very new on the throne and may not have gone through all aspects of your new profession, I have a question pertaining to the economics shared between duchies.”

You raise your brows at the way he chose to phrase it but turn to Sugawara who clears his throat, “we have been looking back six years on the duchies near the assassination site.”

You nod, “exactly. Is there anything amiss in the people of my duchy?”

Bokuto crosses his arms and seem to be in deep thought, a pout forming. “There seems to be a general consensus that they’ve been cheated in the Hiashi duchy. Could it be my speech?” he seems to think the last part out loud before he deflates, “maybe I misunderstood? I do consider myself fluent in your language though.” You reach a supporting hand to his arm, “and you are, Bokuto. Can I ask you to explain in more thorough detail?”

He seems to puff up again at your praise and you hold back a snort. His heart really is on his sleeve. He continues on then, “there’s bitterness brewing towards the former crown – that he stole from them during their worst time. I remember a drought one year, isn’t that so?”

You nod at his question, “yes. My father journeyed there himself to help with emergency aid of the land and people,” you turn to Sugawara to confirm what you’re saying next, “we also lowered that specific duchy’s tax with 12 percent and have sent financial aid every year since.” Sugawara nods approvingly and you turn back to Bokuto, “I am uncertain how this lines up with such rumors.”

Bokuto winces and sucks in his teeth, “something has definitely been up. However, as soon as my entourage arrived, any and all such talks zipped. In the late hours of my night alone in a local tavern, I heard a group of men cheering to your coronation but in a mocking manner. They started whispering after that, so while I wish I could feed you more information, this is unfortunately all I have. I apologize if I have opened some unpleasant doors and that I can’t provide more.”

You nod and stare at the fruits on the table in front of you, unsure how to properly process this new information. None of this has been coming up in your investigations and your worst fears seems to be battling for your mind right now. Sugawara gets up from his stool on your right side to bow to Bokuto, “thank you, your majesty, for all of your knowledge provided. As you suspect, we’ve had investigations going on and this is vital new information for us to work with. I apologize on behalf of our crown as the grief of their fath-“ Bokuto dismisses Sugawara’s apology, “grief needs time and becoming a crown amidst all of that gives no space to do so. There is no reason to apologize for this.” You turn to Bokuto with a grateful smile and he pats your shoulder in support, “I do not intend for my entire visit to be gloom and doom. I just felt this information was important to deliver as fast as I was able. I will go to my room to freshen up before dinner. I suggest that you do the same.” He gives you a warm smile with shining eyes and you hug him as a thank you. You’re glad for the allies you’ve gotten and you have a feeling he knows more of what you’re going through than most. “I also cannot wait to introduce you to my fiancé.” he says, his eyes turning into heart shapes, his cheeks flushing a deep red. A big warm smile comes onto your face as well, “yes and congratulations with that! I do apologize a letter of congratulate wasn’t delivered but the Seven days of Mourning was proceeding when we heard the news!

Bokuto shakes his head with a smile, “you need to stop apologizing. I am looking forward to introducing the two of you. Care to show me to my room?” he holds out his arm so you can link yours to him.

 Sugawara’s walking behind the two of you as your talk turns less official and more casual. He can’t say he’s ever been jealous of royalty, knowing what a pain it can be to be forced on a pedestal whether or not you’re interested but for the first time, a seedling is growing within his organs, cursing his bloodline for making him a commoner. If only he could converse with you in moods so casual, pat your shoulder or tousle your hair in a manner without having to worry about status. He’s well-aware of his position. He knows his feelings are arrogant and that being in love with the crown of his kingdom is an unobtainable dream in any scenario. He’s always been happy just supporting you, being there for you, but seeing you with other people of the same status – who gets the privilege to treat you like a human being like he’s craving to, to ignore status and titles and jobs and hug you whenever he sees the tell-tale signs of grief pushing you to your knees. Sugawara sucks in his teeth as he decides to swallow the bile growing in his throat and get it together again.

Bokuto takes your hands in his and give them a reassuring squeeze, “do not take the stories too deep to heart, my friend. More stories throughout your land was heard as well, and I promise that you’re held in high regard.”

 Barely a second passes from the moment Bokuto’s left your side before your mask instantly melts off of your face and the worry lines appear, your underlip worried between your teeth, gaze far away like you’re not even the room while your brows are furrowed. Sugawara winces before he’s able to figure out how to get you back without touching you. The moment before he’s about to reach out to your arm, you seem to come back and shake your head as if to restart your brain and start walking down the hallway. Sugawara follows you and notices the way your hands are linked behind your back. Your current gait mirrors the way your father used to walk through the halls of the keep.

Sugawara expects you to return to your chambers, maybe wash up before you have to be refitted into the evening attire. The banquet tonight will be held to welcome Bokuto and it will surely be tiring. But you take a turn to the left through the halls instead of right to your chambers and he knows where you plan to go. He hurries his pace so he can overturn you and stand in front of you, effectively blocking your path.

“Your majesty,” he says sternly, unsure if he’s allowed to scold you in this matter. The intel that Bokuto provided is important for your stealth investigation so he understands your need to put it together with the knowledge already provided but you look exhausted.

Hurt, too.

You simply look at him, your gaze hardened and empty, emotion barren from your expression. He doesn’t budge though, as he continues, “I advise rest. I will happily write down the information and plot it into our system if you promise me to rest, your majesty.”

You almost pout but not entirely. Then, you deflate as your arms falls to your sides.

“I can’t sleep.”

Sugawara smiles, “I know it’s afternoon but maybe lying down will still do you good, your majesty.”

“No, Sugawara, I can’t sleep.” You give him a glare but there’s no bite behind it, just hope that he’ll understand what you mean. His mouth turns into an ‘o’ shape, “has this been a prior issue?”

You nod, “yeah. Sleep eludes me when I’m stressed. Asahi usually makes it easier but he’s busy.”

Makes it easier? Azumane? Sugawara swallows whatever impure thought comes into his mind before he asks, “what else will help?”

You pointedly avoid his gaze as you start to fiddle with the fabric of your pants, lip worried between your teeth. “Asahi usually holds my hand and caresses it. It’s childish, but he reads me stories too. Distracts my mind.”

Sugawara’s mind goes into overdrive. What exactly are you implying? Surely he can call a maid to help you with this, maybe someone you already trust that Azumane also trusts to do the job. He starts racking his brain about a possible candidate to do this with you. Maybe he should call on the doctor, Ennoshita? He knows you trust him after you’d gotten into an accident with a wild mare last year and he’d helped you recover. He might have some medicine. Ah, but you also shouldn’t be completely knocked out before the dinner tonight.

“Sugawara.” You say and he’s pulled back to the right now and looks at you. You seem flustered as you look anywhere but directly at him, “I’ll gladly retract my request if I am overstepping but… with my father’s untimely death I fear that I trust very few in the kingdom as of this moment. Would you…” you take in a deep breath and hold it for a few moments before you exhale slowly, “…would you mind… accompanying me to my sleeping chambers?”

Sugawara’s brain stops functioning for a moment. Without intending to he’s simply staring at you with eyes wide, mouth hanging open at the question you just asked him. It feels obscene. In all of his weeks with you he’s never been inside of your sleeping chambers – the closest he’s been is your drawing room where you’ve occasionally eaten breakfast as he prepared you for the day. Even in that room he feels like he’s overstepping, not belonging in a room such as yours. So to think that you just asked him to go in further is incomprehensible. It’s like his brain is unable to process the situation he’s suddenly put in.

“Sugawara, you are my advisor but you are also my friend. I will not hold it against you if you decline. Your comfort is equally important.”

Oh no, you think he doesn’t want to. You think you’ve made him uncomfortable – he needs to say something right away.

You stare at him for a moment more, unsure if he’s even alright before he suddenly inhales sharply after subconsciously holding his breath.

“Ah,” is all he gets out as a start and then sheepishly laugh and scratch his neck, “I’m so sorry your majesty, it seems my head took a short break. But if it helps my crown rest, I will go to the ends of the earth.”

“So you’re not uncomfortable?” you ask to make sure and Sugawara feels his cheeks heat up at your concern. He smiles warmly at you, “not at all, your majesty. You have my word.”

 Your sleeping chambers are decorated with all kinds of trinkets and items and Sugawara’s eyes have a hard time finding an anchoring point. There’s paintings and books lining every flat surface as well as small hobby items – of course, he cannot ignore the sword either, hanging haphazardly from the bed alcove’s hook. It’s one of the royal family heirlooms and your father bestowed it to you the day you became the Crown-in-Waiting. He’s only seen you spar with it a handful of times in the past but recently you’ve gotten a habit of picking it up more often.

He's not entirely sure what it means.

The servant from your drawing room excuses herself as you place yourself in the middle of the bed, getting comfortable under your silken covers. Sugawara stands awkwardly next to the end of the bed until you clear your throat, “there’s a stool over there you can bring over.” And then you settle closer to the edge of the bed, on your side so that you face Sugawara. He does as he’s told and sits himself next to your head where you reach out your hand with a timid smile, “it’s okay if you’d rather just… tell stories.” You say with your brows slightly furrowed, clearly trying to hide what you think will be imminent disappointment. Sugawara smiles and tries to confidently grab your hand so he can start running his fingers back and forth on your palm. He decides to not comment on the small yelp you let out at the moment of contact.

“Is there a certain story you’d like to hear, your majesty?” he keeps his focus on your hand, on the veins, the way your joints bend and contract with every movement he makes them do, your hand limb in what he hopes is gentle care. You don’t complain as you sigh out in contemplation, “your childhood. What was it like?”

Sugawara doesn’t even notice how his hand had stopped moving or how his head had raised itself to look at you at your sudden question. You wince, “sorry, shall I leave that subject be?”

He regains his composure and refocuses his effort back to your hand with a smile, “it’s alright your majesty, I was just taken aback is all.”

He thinks about his childhood, how his life has a distinct before and after. The distinction usually were the before and after coming to Karasu Keep but he’s realized there’s a new line in the sand.

Before and after meeting you.

He shakes his head with a small smile and opens his mouth, “my childhood’s common, for this kingdom. I grew up by the northern duchies, in Hakone, tending to rice fields with my grandparents.”

He tells you of his parents, of his little brother and how he and his childhood friend dreamt of more. “There had to be more for us out there, that’s what we kept telling ourselves.” He laughs as he reminisces all the shenanigans he did in his hometown. When he originally left to become a traveling scribe’s apprentice, a lot of the town elders joked about how there’d “finally be calm” in their little rice village.

He tells you of his mentor, your father’s advisor, of how they met when he was just shy of 11 and how your father and his advisor had saved his life on the same day they met from a burning tavern they were all sleeping in. His scribe tutor had passed in the fire and while the crown offered to get Sugawara escorted back to his hometown safely, the opportunity to go to the capital had been far more interesting to him.

You giggle at that part of the story, “is it really that boring in Hakone? I’ve heard it’s beautiful there.” You say and Sugawara chuckles, “beautiful to everyone but eight-year-old boys.”

“I was offered to become the advisor’s apprentice shortly after reaching the keep. I think he’d taken a liking to me during the travels.” He sheepishly admits and you smile warmly, “well you are very charming.”

Sugawara’s throat constricts at your compliment and you pretend that you don’t notice the way his hand squeezes yours a little too tight in surprise. He then straightens his back, “your majesty, I was under the impression that this was supposed to have helped you fall asleep.”

You shift around on your pillow with a small smile but close your eyes, “I love learning about you, so I fear the subject may have been far too interesting.”

Sugawara shakes his head, “I will gladly tell you more at another time, your majesty, if you promise me to try and get some rest.”

You sigh out comfortably, “that’s a promise, then.”

   The contribution from my cat was short this time around, however no less important:

 Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh444444444444444444444444444---

go here to be added to my taglist!

[separatist-apologist]

hello, i am asking for your thoughts on What Lies Beyond The Veil :)

Thank you for asking. So first of all, remember that Haters Bookclub is for haters only.

I started this book because I wanted the pretty special edition cover and thought- wait, no, read it first otherwise it's just taking up space on your shelves. The first 3-5 chapters are perfectly fine. Standard, predictable KU fantasy imo. Dead parent, a brother protecting a sister, a sprinkling of sexual assault and a protagonist who is not like other girls, which makes her better.

I went in wanting to like this, which is maybe why I'm so frustrated. The books reads like an unpolished first draft. There was absolutely the bare minimum of editing which shows endlessly in the repetition of words/phrases, often in the same dialogue tags which was making me insane. It also felt VERY rushed through most of it, and then slow in the scenes the author wanted to write and I think if she'd even taken a breather after writing and come back like, a week or two later to re-read and make edits, the flow would have been so much nicer.

The internalized misogyny of the main character (Estrella) was unreadable half the time. She has a moment where she's talking about how she's harmed because she didn't want to SEW like the other girls- she wanted to play with BOYS like I'm so sick of authors creating this misogynistic world and instead of having their MC examine the structures that harm ALL women, instead makes their MC hate women for...not fighting hard enough, despite the fact the MC is beaten and assaulted when she does. I saw reviews that MC was a feminist and I'm sorry but slapping masculine coded traits on your MC and refusing to let her think one positive thing about any woman who doesn't also share those characteristics, is no feminism.

The MC spends an inordinate amount of time swearing she's done being abused, pushed around, or told what to do EXCEPT of course when the LI does it. THEY JUST MET and he grabs her face and demands she NEVER lie to him and shes like, "yes daddy" like JESUS CHRIST. She has the personality of a wet mop which is perfect because Caelum wants someone he can walk all over, tell what to do, and sexually harass without impunity. She lets him. But she's a strong woman because despite having Z E R O training as a warrior, is a natural with a sword somehow??? And he respects that, despite respecting absolutely no other boundary she sets, which is how you know its true love.

The twist is so embarrassingly obvious and the only reason the LI doesn't know is because she's too dumb to live, naive, and easily manipulated (perfect for Caelum because that's clearly what he wants out of a relationship). If she'd asked even one question out of this stranger she could have pieced it together. All men want to fuck her, all women want to be her/fuck her boyfriend/hate her, so you know book two has a prophecy around her or something. This is chosen one behavior.

Would I recommend it? No. I finished it because I wanted to see how the reveal was gonna go and I have absolutely zero hope Estrella will hold him accountable for his lies given she's never once held him accountable for ANYTHING ELSE. He'll manipulate and gaslight her into being his wife, which has been the most EVIL THING EVER (gross marriage is for OTHER GIRLS not ME I'm BETTER than them) which will then be totally fine because she did it for the right reasons or whatever nonsense I'm sure the narrative will construct.

Also, it's painfully obvious this author is a fan of ACOTAR. Like. If you read it, you're like- I've seen all this before, sometimes word for word.

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #091

(taken december 18th last year; uploading surveys taken while gone)

Have you ever shared a house with a significant other? Not legally, but I stayed in that apartment way, way too regularly to be considered a "guest" by that point.

How are you feeling today? Happy, sad, or anything else? I am super fucking at peace, Girt stayed last night and the one before that and it was great. Roman and Cookie both slept with us, and it was just a sound, cozy night. I woke up when he did with his alarms to go to work and we were both super cuddly and it was just cute. After work he comes straight back here to stay again, and I am ACTUALLY considering trying to make dinner out of something for us so I can feel like a proper adult and helpful partner. Idc, I wanna do something nice and adult-y.

Who was the last person that made you upset? What did they do? I am FULL prefacing this with the fact this was dumb as shit and I was absolutely being a brat, but I got frustrated I wanna say three nights ago when I was venting the tiniest bit to Girt and he took 'til like, midnight, when I was asleep, to reply. It's embarrassing to even share, like holy shit he has a life and responsibilities and also free time and such. He proves a million times over he cares and is absolutely always there for me, that night just sucked so pretty much everything was hurting me.

Do you have a crush on anyone? Tell me about them. "Crush" doesn't even begin to cover it. Been there for me consistently more than any friend I have ever, and I do mean ever, had. He's never lost faith that I can do great things and conquer what I'm afraid of. He makes me cry from laughing when I don't even want to smile. I feel like I can tell him pretty damn much anything. He's genuinely the most doting boyfriend ever and besides probably my mom of course, my biggest fan there is; he will hype me the fuck up over anything and supports me endlessly. He really appreciates and values my advice and opinions. He SOMEHOW acts entirely unashamed of me. I need to stop, I am too fucking emotional lately and am crying/fighting not to sob lmao jesus, he's just great.

Have you ever had something signed by someone famous? What and who? No but bitch I wish, there are some signatures I would frame lmao

Have you made out with anyone in the last 2 weeks? Yeah.

Have you shaved your legs in the past three days? No. I want laser hair removal on my legs so fucking bad, my legs humiliate me but for multiple reasons regularly shaving them just is not reasonable, or maybe even not possible right now.

Does anyone hate you? Probably. Quite sure there are people who do.

What bugs you about the last person you dated? She is, honestly, one of the biggest liars I have ever met, and has been SINCE we met. Among other things.

Have you ever felt replaced? Oh yes.

Have you ever played a drinking game? Which ones? No.

Did you ever play Neopets when you were younger? Oh yes, I was obsessed. Honestly, it started my computer addiction, I'm pretty sure. Omg I actually recently saw this tattoo featuring a sick tiger Neopet with the quote "we are all God's Neopets, and he forgot the password" and BOY I fucking CONSIDERED lmfao

Do you regularly check anyone’s profile online? Nope.

Have your parents ever worked in medicine? My mom was a pharmacy tech for quite a while.

Do you have any silly nicknames or pet names? I guess "Twinkie," which is the nickname my mom has used for me since I was a baby; she gave all her kids sweets nicknames, lol.

Are you any good at drawing? I guess, wish I was better though.

Is there anything unusual about your house? Uh I don't believe so.

Do you find it hard to talk to strangers, even people who work in stores? Yes, to such a debilitating degree that it has majorly affected my ability to work/find work I can function through.

How many wigs do you own? Zero.

Are your maternal/parental instincts strong? No, but more than they once were; I've helped my mom babysit my nieces and nephew so much that I guess they just naturally started to grow. Like I DO know I get way more upset when a baby cries than in the past, especially if they ARE my niece/nephew, like I get this desperate urge to fix whatever's wrong and I really feel like my heart hurts. It's weird, historically I've had stronger maternal-ish (major emphasis on "ish," don't make this weird) protection instincts over s/os, I've found especially if they're sick.

Do you feel confident in your body image? My self-confidence is in the fucking negatives and it's been getting to me even more than usual (which is already severely) the past few days.

Do you like country music? I hate it. In very rare instances, I'll hear a song I enjoy, but in general? I cannot stand it.

What was the last essay you remember writing about? Toxic masculinity. I wish I still had access to it, it was probably one of my favorite academic things I have ever written. My teacher loved it and used it as the example piece the following semester.

In your dream kitchen, would the worktops be marble or steel? Marble.

Who is considered the “black sheep” of your family? Why? Me. I am pretty starkly different from the general vibe and interests of my family.

What’s something you’re so good at that you take pride in your skill? I'm genuinely proud of my writing.

What’s the worst/best thing you’ve done without your parents knowing? My mom would probably kill me if she knew certain places I "did things" as a teen lmfao. Best, uhhhh... that's hard dude, my mom knows so, so, so much. I'm stumped enough to give in and also say the same things that qualified for "worst" kms 🥴

What’s a random funny scene from a movie that has stuck with you? Honestly a lot from White Chicks, that movie is so fucking memeable and I love it.

Would you date someone who still lived with their parents? I do that now, so yes. Although in Girt's situation, it's for his mom versus she housing him; she has mental health problems and couldn't work for many years, so she came back to Girt all the way from like Indiana or something and stayed with him because he's a fucking saint. He's basically run the place for he and Shelia for many years on his own, but she's now had a stable job for maybe like a year now and he's very READY to move out, the housing market is just so wordlessly insane right now that doing so is very unreasonable, so for right now they stay together.

Would you have to sleep with someone before marrying them? No.

Do you think there is life on other planets? In some form, absolutely. It's like, impossible for us to be the ONLY life-sustaining planet in an infinite space.

Would you enjoy a night of playing video games? Hell yeah, those with Girt are the absolute best.

Would you watch a porno with your partner? No, porn grosses me out personally. I don't want to see two totally random people going at each other. I would get absolutely nothing but a disgust reaction from that. It's totally fine if others are into it (just not to an addiction level obviously, that's problematic), I'm just not.

Do you like gummy candy? Yeah, it's a texture I like more than most others.

Do you know what the person you have feelings for is doing at this moment? He's at work.

How many brothers does your father have? I'm quite sure he has none, or he just hasn't talked about him like, at all.

Are any of your relatives vets? Not that I know of.

Who cleans the most in your house? My mom.

Do you have any current or past teachers on your facebook friends? Quite a lot, and I doubt they're happy with me. 🥴

Have you ever seen the last person you kissed cry? No.

Do your parents vote? I know Mom does, idk about Dad.

Who's the most romantic person you ever went out with? Jason.

How would you react if your best friend was pregnant/got someone pregnant? That would be Girt so that would be a VERY quick breakup if it wasn't me. If it was me, I'd be fucking devastated, terrified, and get an abortion as absolutely soon as possible.

Have you ever seen the last person you kissed dressed up fancy? Possibly in high school on his senior picture day, but I don't remember it.

Did you have a dream last night? No, last night's sleep was totally peaceful.

What’s something you’ve always wanted to say to your ex? I haven't *always* wanted to say it, but for years now I've just wanted to tell him I'm so sorry.

What would you do if you saw a guy hit a girl? My VERY strong instinct says that I would absolutely storm over to them and deck him dead in the face. I very literally think I would. And then call the cops.

What is the last state you were in besides your own? Virginia.

What two breeds of dog do you think would make a really great puppy? Maybe like... an akita and chow-chow. I looked it up and apparently they're legit and I'm in love.

Who is the best person you’ve ever “met” online? That's too hard. I have met THE greatest people through the Internet.

Describe your elementary school in 10 words or less. Very invested in their students, extremely friendly, bright, fun.

What is the greatest kids’ show ever and why? Okay don't judge but when I'm watching my niece with Mom, she LOVES the show Bluey, and honestly it is absolutely adorable and shows you such an ideal but also realistic picture of a good, honest, just picturesque family.

The best album ever made is ______ because _________: Ozzy's Black Rain because you skip NO song. EVERY single one fucking slaps.

Did you ever see a scorpion in the wild? No, they're not native here.

What is the newest thing you’ve learned? Two nights back at Girt's, we were talking about their old dog Charlotte and how much she fucking adored Donald; both Ashley and Shelia said that she did not just love him, that dog was in love with him. Apparently Charlotte's ashes were buried next to Donald because that's what both would have wanted. ;___;

Name a state you have never been to, but would like to go to. Arizona, probably surprisingly. There is a number of native animals there I would REALLY like to see.

Name a word that people use locally that outsiders probably can’t pronounce. Conetoe. You said it wrong.

Describe your world in 5 words. CONFUSING, stressful, poetic (not in all ways, but I'd say definitely in many), melancholy, but mine and one of a goddamn kind so I'll take it.

What time did you go to bed last night? Uh it was before 12. We played Jackbox Party Pack games for a few hours with some of his online buds, but he also tried excruciatingly spicy ramen, more than he should've because the psycho didn't wanna waste it but also to "build up [his] heat tolerance" and I was like BUT WHY?????? is that necessary????? Thankfully he knew I was right so didn't finish it and then he just wanted to go to bed lmao, he felt like shit.

Who did you last ride in a car with? Girt. Bless him, it's a 30 minute drive to his place and he was BELTIN shit which I usually don't mind at all, but between driving to his place and back, I got such a bad headache lol.

Are you currently heart broken? No, my heart is fuller than it normally is.

Do you know how to change a diaper? I mean, to be completely realistic I could probably figure it out, but immediately? No. I have changed ONE diaper in my entire life and never will again (and that one wasn't even very dirty).

Would you be tazed for a million bucks? Yes.

What is the most annoying thing that your parents do? My mom is always 100% certain she's right. Disagreeing is disrespect. My dad can be weird and sometimes rude to people, and he has no concept of "there are people who can hear you other than me" in public.

Do you completely trust the person you’re dating? Yes.

When was the last time you received a hug? Who was this hug from? This morning, Girt.

Are you one of those people who like The Nightmare Before Christmas? I do, but nowhere near obsessively or even as much as people seem to think I do. The movie is fine, but it's nothing amazing, honestly. Coincidentally, both my phone's lock and home screen are scenes from the movie, lol. Just for the holiday.

What is your favourite type of nut? Idk, I really don't like nuts very much. I guess cashews, I can handle them fine in like, nut/grain/etc. bars.

Where did you eat the best pizza you’ve ever eaten in your life? Guys I am not fucking kidding, it was literally at an indoor trampoline park sort of place that hosts parties, lmao. We went there for Girt's nephew's party, and that pizza, everything about it, was BOMB.

Did you ever watch The Rugrats when you were a kid? Oh yes, loved it.

Do you know anyone who smokes in their car? Dad and Kim.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

What's he history behind dick's amnesia? Did smthg happen? & I'm also assuming he forgets his partner/reader?

Alfred watched Dick picking at his breakfast and stirring honey into his tea. It had never been something he'd done before- but. When he took a sip, he didn't grimace. So Alfred put a pin in that for later.

"Alright, Dickhead?" Jason asked fretting while trying to look like he wasn't as he shoved toast at him.

"What-" he started, blinking. Looking lost.

"Alright?" Jason repeated.

"Yeah," Dick said quietly. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach. One that told him something was wrong but- nothing could be wrong. He was home. Everything looked the same. Smelled the same. Acted the same.

Everyone just looked older.

He knew, at least in theory that he'd kept in sporadic contact while he was gone. No one had thought he was dead. Even if they had been surprised to see him. But- where he'd been was an endlessly frustrating puzzle. His only clues came to him while he slept. The woman he desperately wanted to hear speak. The woman whose face he could never see clearly in his mind once he opened his eyes. But he felt her.

The same way he used to feel like his parents were right there if he tucked the blankets around himself just right and he hugged Zitka hard enough.

Little things. Old glass, honey in tea, the smell of dust, the feel of cracked leather. It made no sense but it filled him with a sense of relief so profound it brought him to tears.

But how could he explain it when he barely knew what was happening?

"There's my Honey!"

Dick looked up from a mug of coffee he'd been using to warm his hands. Only to see you breeze through the door of the diner. And he smiled a little.

"Want your usual?" the grey haired woman asked. Sarah. That was her name. And she LOOKED like she owned a diner. Pleasantly plump with strong stubby hands and a lap wide enough to hold all her grandchildren- it seemed like she mothered half the town.

"Yes please," you answer, already anding money to the girl running the til, "And a rib bone for Sammy if you've got it."

"Anything for my favorite customer," she said cheerfully, handing you a to-go cup of coffee and putting a pastry in a bag.

"Me or the dog?"

"Sammy!" she sniffed, "He never talks back."

You crinkle your nose at her but smile, eyes dancing. "You think you can spare one of the girls for an hour after lunch rush?" you ask.

"Probably," Sarah answered, "Why?"

"Gotta run a dresser over to Widman's and run to the hardware in Red Key," you sigh, "Joe ordered the wrong varnish and I've got a vanity table on rush."

"Sure," she said, shaking her head, "I'll send one over long about two."

"You're a peach," you tell her.

"Mhm," Sarah huffed, "You just remember to bring me back some of the good taffy, Honey Girl and we'll call it a day."

"Anything for my favorite Auntie."

Honey Girl or Honey

It wasn't the first time Dick had heard someone call you that. Mostly the older people. And he wondered where it came from. Your store didn't sell honey. Or bees. At least not live ones... You probably had a few pieces of Jewelry with bees on it or something but- Even if it didn't make sense, it suited you.

A mystery, he decided. And one he'd get to the bottom of as soon as he finished his coffee.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Please i need some fluffy Elliot rn, i’m so stressed

Elliot takes care of the reader when she comes to his place after dealing with Rues shit, younger siblings, finishing her Finals and over all stressful shit , like maybe they smoke a bit, cuddle, cry idk but gimmie that comfy shiz please bae

Of course my love. Ask and you shall receive.

Warnings: Stress and smoking.

Word Count: A short 560

I knew that he'd want to take care of me the minute I called him.

He didn't do a very good job at keeping his distance, especially when he knew I had a rough day overall. He wouldn't be cocky to say that he's the only thing to cheer me up on those types of days.

School was coming to an end, my finals all sent in at the last moment. I didn't procrastinate, but between school, my job, family struggles, my best friends drug addiction, and maintaining a fairly healthy relationship; I was tired to say the least.

The day started off by noticing my final had sent in at 12:02am and not 11:59pm like some professors demand. I don't know what happened within those three minutes, but all I did know is that I had failed the class because of it and would be forced to retake it another time.

The next thing that happened was simple, but made me cry out in frustration. I was getting a bowl of cereal, licking my wounds after finding out about my exam when I dropped the carton of milk.

Milk, quite literally, went everywhere.

It didn't help that as I was cleaning it up, my younger siblings were standing over me, laughing and threatening to get our parents.

After that, I got a call from Rue saying she needed me to pee in a bottle so she could pass her moms drug test. This was the thing that irked me the most because not even a week ago I asked her to stop reaching out to me if it involved drugs. She didn't care. She never would.

That's when Elliot noticed my silence in response to his endless amount of loving texts. He didn't hold it against me, he knew I was busy. But when he finally picked up the phone to call me and I answered, he could tell that I was off.

Which is why I ended up in the position I was.

Elliot's legs were intertwined with mine, my head on his chest as I sobbed. His hand gently rubbed up and down my back, his lips occasionally dipping down to press against my cheeks, forehead, lips, anywhere he could reach. He stayed quiet through my meltdown, occasionally hushing me when I would gasp loudly for air, my lungs not allowing it.

And eventually I calmed down.

He invited me to stay the night, the simple bob of my head in an agreeable nod making a smile break out across his soft face. We got ready for bed in silence, the sound of his lighter lighting his joint like music to my ears. He cracked the window a bit, the air cooling me down as I slipped into one of his shirts. He undressed quickly, slipping under the blankets as I did the same. His arm wrapped securely around my shoulder, passing the joint to me as I took a deep breath of the relieving smoke. I rested my head on his bare chest, my heart finally happy and my shoulders relieved of the weight that had been suffocating me all day.

He didn't say much, just kissed me and told me how much he loved me.

"How much do you love me, Elliot?"

"Endlessly. No amount of words could capture how much I love you."

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

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[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Nine)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 3,064

Please comment and interact...it's what keeps this blog going

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

Almost a week had passed since you stayed with Cillian at his unit in Galway and, despite the fact that he was away, things had further developed between you as emotions grew with every day.

He was different to any man you had ever been involved with and, whilst your involvement with each other stemmed from purely sexual lust and hunger, you had evolved from this to something different entirely within a matter of days.

Of course, you knew each other for years and, whilst you had a crush on Cillian for as long as you could remember, you never thought that it would be like this and, for Cillian, this feeling had never been mutual.

Whilst he always considered you to be attractive and very intelligent and kind, he never felt any emotional connection or sexual attraction towards you, at least not until that weekend when you visited Denise, which was also the first time he saw you again after six months had passed.

On that night during which you slept with each other, he let his sexual hunger take over his reasonable thinking mind after he saw you, in his kitchen, making pancakes and you had since, quite openly, talked about it. He saw sleeping with you as a mistake but, ever since that night, he couldn’t get you out of his head.

For you, things weren’t just sexual anymore and you began to feel strongly for Cillian which worried you especially since he was open about the fact that he didn’t know where things were heading with you. The fact that you are his daughter’s friend and much younger than him clearly bothered him and he sometimes admitted to you that he felt strange about building such a strong connection with you. A relationship was not what he wanted but he liked you, a lot.

As such, during the past week, Cillian called you every day after he finished filming and you were talking to him more frequently than you were talking to Denise.

During his breaks, he would also text you and check in on you as you were in the middle of exams. He always remembered when you had a test and asked you how it went and, when you told him that you didn’t feel confident with your results, he reassured you that you probably did well and, even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. According to him, a pass is a pass and you needed to lower your expectations of yourself just a little.

To your surprise, he also remembered appointments you had scheduled and things that bothered you which meant that, unlike other men you had been with, he was actually listening and was interested in what you had to say.

Some nights, you had spent hours on the phone or Skype, joking about things you had encountered that day or talking about books, literature and music, which is something you both enjoyed.

Politics and social issues were other matters you could discuss endlessly and, even when you were of different opinions, you would be able to argue in the most satisfying way. Cillian always treated you as an equal and even opened up to you about his divorce from Denise’s mother recently.

Another thing you learned from Cillian was that Denise was brining along her friend Amalie to Manchester to stay at his apartment and, when you gave him a warning about her and her intentions, he reminded you that he only had eyes for you. In fact, he always showered you with compliments and all of his compliments were genuine and came natural to him, helping you immensely with your self-consciousness.

Unfortunately, whilst you enjoyed how engaging Cillian was with you every day, like a teenager in love, with the constant text messages and calls, your father soon got suspicious and confronted you about.

****

“Dad, I am almost 22, you don’t need to be spying on me” you said somewhat frustrated as he asked you who you were talking to every day.

“You live under my roof and you answer me young lady” he said harshly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just as your mother stepped in, trying to calm him down. Your father was much older, approaching sixty and fairly old school in the way he expected you and your sister to behave.

“A friend…I am talking to a friend” you explained and your father asked again, telling you not to lie to him because he would know.

“And this friend of yours, you can’t meet him…you just text and talk? You can’t bring him to our house and introduce him?” your father asked along with a million other questions.

“No, I can’t. he lives in Dublin and I, most certainly, wouldn’t bring him into this…” you said somewhat irritated by the interrogation.

“Dublin, huh? So, you met him when you visited Denise?” he asked and you nodded.

“It’s not her brother, is it? Because I really don’t want you to get involved with him. I don’t like this family and their views” your father said harshly, causing you to chuckle.

“Their views?” you asked somewhat surprised and your father nodded.

“Yes, their views on what’s right and wrong. If I recall correctly, this girl you call your friend was going out with someone of the same gender for a while. God didn’t tell us to do this but her parents obviously didn’t have an issue with it which, apparently is called new age parenting. Everything is pro choice and lets their children decide what is best for them even if they lack experience” your father went on to say and you couldn’t help but shake your head at his absurd commentary but, he continued and you soon learned what had happened between your parents and Denise’s parents many years ago, before which your mother had called Denise’s mother her friend as well.

According to your father, Cillian had voiced his opinion to your father when it was found out that your sister was pregnant following a short affair with a man she had met through university.

Cillian’s ex wife had told your sister that she had options, causing your father to get rather angry with her, which is when Cillian stepped in, supporting what Denise’s mother had said.

She had offered your sister help but your father considered this to be a betrayal and, whilst your mother maintained contact with Denise’s mother for a while, your father refused to get involved with Denise’s family thereafter.

Cillian’s often all so public views angered him and he made this very clear. He didn’t want you to be involved with his children and you couldn’t help but laugh about the irony of it all when you found out about this incident.

“Jesus Dad, that was years ago and not everyone has to have the same views as you” you said before confirming that you weren’t seeing Denise’s brother.

“No, they don’t, but I am just looking out for you and, instead of acting the way you do, throwing yourself at guys with new age ideas, I would much prefer if you met a nice young catholic man” your father explained, causing your mother to fume in anger with him.

“Throwing myself at guys? Listen, I am not sure what slut you think I am but it’s nice to know that you think so little of me” you said before storming upstairs and into your room.

Having to deal with this crap bothered you and you knew that, when this semester came to an end, you could be moving out now that you saved enough money for a bond and rent.

*****

As the evening went on, you spent all of your time in your room, reading a book until, finally, at around 9 o’clock you saw a notification on Skype.

‘Hey Beautiful’ Cillian said as you picked up and popped in your headphones.

Cillian apologised for calling through so late and informed you that he was finally able to speak to Laura, the woman he was seeing before you.

He knew that you wanted to know about it and he had no problem telling you what you needed to hear while telling you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about.

It was Laura’s first day back on set after a week-long break and Cillian told you that she wasn’t exactly impressed when he stood her down.

‘She probably likes you…I can understand that’ you said calmly but Cillian told you that he was pretty clear with her about what this was between them.

‘Well, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her’ he went on and you were quite happy to change the topic by this point and told him that you were aching for him.

‘Well, I am not sure that I can help you with that’ Cillian chuckled.

‘We could have Skype sex I suppose’ you giggled.

‘Skype Sex?’ Cillian laughed before telling you that he didn’t think that this would be a good idea since you were at home with your parents and you had previously complained about the thin walls of the house.

‘Oh Jesus Cillian, my father already thinks I am a slut, so I personally don’t care if anyone hears me getting myself off. I’ve got my earphones in and am the only one who can hear you and my door is locked’ you chuckled.

‘Your father thinks that you are a slut? Do you want to talk about that?’ Cillian asked concerned but you shook your head.

‘I rather not. You met him and know what he is like’ you explained.

‘I do. He takes God very seriously’ Cillian said before continuing on. ‘But, if you have problems at home you need to tell me please. You can stay at my apartment. I can get my house keeper to meet you there with the key’ he offered.

‘You said you were going to stay out of stuff between me and my parents just as I would stay out of matters between you and Denise’ you then said, reminding him on the conversation about your respective roles which you had three days ago.

‘Yes I did, but I can’t if I have to worry about you’ Cillian said firmly.

‘There is no need to worry Cillian. I promise’ you reassured him. ‘Well, actually, I need you to worry about my sexual needs right now’ you then went on to say with sly grin.

‘Through Skype?’ Cillian asked again somewhat concerned.

‘Yes’ you said with a cheeky smile as you settled more into your bed with your laptop.

‘Alright then, show me what you are wearing” Cillian said as he cut straight to the point.

‘Can you see?’ you asked as you adjusted the cam and showed Cillian your dark blue lingerie.

‘Very nice…but…I think you would look even better if you were naked, don’t you think?’ Cillian said somewhat nervously and you nodded in agreement.

‘Well, I suppose I should strip for you and you should strip for me’ you giggled as you seductively took off your bra slowly, showing Cillian your perky breasts through the camera.

You heard him inhale sharply as he watched you and took his t-shirt off at the same time, leaving him in nothing but his CK briefs.

Without words you then scooted back on the bed and removed your undies, allowing him to watch before you sat down on the bed, spread eagle and naked, giving him a good view of your mound.

‘Jesus Y/N, you are so fucking beautiful and sexy…touch yourself for me, nice and slow’ Cillian breathed out and you let his soothing voice wash over you, knowing what he was trying to do and happily helping him succeed.

‘Like this?’ you moaned as you began to run circles over your clit with your fingers.

‘Yes, just like that babe’ Cillian groaned as he shuffled down his briefs and you were finally getting a good look of his hard cock.

‘Oh god, I want to stroke your cock so badly’ you moaned as you seductively opened your pussy lips with your fingers, opening yourself up before reaching for the black vibrator you kept in your bedside table.

‘Well, someone's particularly horny tonight’ Cillian chuckled as he watched you play with your pussy, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You mumbled a small "mhm," and he laughed.

‘Good, that's exactly how I like you, so naughty and needy’ Cillian said as he slowly began to stroke his hard member.

You barely registered his words enough to answer with another "mhm," but your subconscious managed it. Your weak answer elicited another delicious chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Why don't you show me how this little toy of yours works?” Cillian then asked as he watched you eagerly.

“I was just waiting for you to ask” you giggled as you began to run your fingers along your stomach and back up to your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps their wake before reaching for the vibrator and turning it on.

“Put into your sweet pussy babe, let me see it” Cillian groaned and you moan in response, barely processing his words but still understanding enough to answer and do what he asked.

"I bet your pussy is already dripping” he said as you slid the vibrator into you slowly. He was right, you could feel your wetness pooling.

“I am so fucking wet and I wish it would be your cock inside me” you moaned as you began to stroke the toy in and out of you.

Cillian was groaning on the other side, his eyes full of lust and desire for you and you let out a quiet moan as you watched him with the same desire and hunger while you were pleasuring yourself.

“Good girl, keep going…” Cillian tells you and you moan again hearing it.

“Tell me how much you are aching for my cock” he then said you moaned again.

“I want your cock so badly, fuck…I want your cum inside me, dripping out of my wet little pussy” you moaned, eliciting a groan from Cillian as he began to stroke his cock harder and faster.

“Such a naughty needy girl, aren’t you? I can’t wait to be inside you again and make you cum over and over again” Cillian said with a laboured breath and you are barely listening at this point.

“I want you to cum for me and show me this dripping pussy when you do…I fucking love hearing your moans, so fucking sexy…common babe….let go” Cillian said, knowing that you were close and your orgasm rolled over you as soon as the word 'cum' left his lips, and although your sensitive clit was screaming at your hand to stop, you couldn't.

‘Oh god fuck, yes…’ you moaned as you came hard and fast.

“That’s it babe, don’t stop” he instructed as your moans continuously spilled from your mouth, and you were not even sure what you were saying or if you were forming words at all. The only thing in your head is a deliciously heavy fog and Cillian’s voice guiding you to do what he wanted.

“Don’t stop, keep fucking your sweet little pussy babe” Cillian ordered as he knew you weren’t done and, just as he did, you let out a high-pitched moan, bordering on a scream, as an even stronger orgasm washed over your body.

‘Cum for me babe…I want to see all this cum’ you moaned in return, focusing on the delicious image in front of you as Cillian was stroking his cock and, just when you finally come back down you heard Cillian groan loudly.

“Fuck” he groaned as he stroked his cock hard and fast you watched rope after rope of cum spurt onto his stomach.

‘Oh god, what a waste, I want to lick your cum off your skin so badly” you breathed out as Cillian came down from his high slowly and used a tissue to clean himself up.

‘Stop saying those things or you have to stay on the line for another twenty minutes at least’ Cillian chuckled as he could feel his manhood stir again.

‘Well, I think you shouldn’t cum again until you come to visit me in Galway the weekend after next…I want you to save it all for me’ you said, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow as he pulled his briefs back up.

‘Fat chance babe’ he chuckled, knowing that going without an orgasm for nine days would be rather difficult for him.

Eventually, after a lot of begging, he agreed to try but he wouldn’t be able to make you any promises to this effect.

***

The following day, you went to work and then university thereafter but, when you eventually returned home, your father was in a worse mood than ever before.

‘Can you explain this to me?’ he asked angrily as soon as you walked through the door and you couldn’t help but gulp when he pointed to a white box which he had placed on the living room table.

‘You went through my personal belongings’ you huffed out as the box contained some lingerie and intimate items, including toys, that you were hiding in the bottom of your dresser.

‘Again Y/N, this is my house, my rules and I don’t want my daughter to own filth like this’ he said, after having heard small pieces of your conversation with Cillian on Skype the evening before.

It was obvious to you that your father was appalled and you were outraged that he had been snooping through your room and, as you would later learn, had even tried to access your computer.

‘I can’t fucking believe you dad. These are my personal belongings and you have no right to go through them’ you huffed out and, just as you did, you could feel a sharp strike across your face.

‘Get this shit out of my house and talk to me with some respect’ he said harshly, leaving you speechless and in tears as he walked away, leaving your cheek burning red.

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[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

[volturialice]

what are your headcanons or thoughts about Cullen family dynamics, like between Carlisle and Rosalie, Jasper and Emmett and + (?)

oh anon I have like. encyclopedic volumes of thoughts! I’m sorry if you were after a cute hcs post but this is gonna be another of my classic Endlessly Long Metas

*and the carlisle & rosalie part got so long that emmett & jasper gets to be a separate post now oops

(cw: mentions of rape under the cut)

carlisle and rosalie is a suuuuper interesting relationship because they sure as hell did not get off to a great start. I kind of wish the books (especially midnight sun) explored this a bit more because edward and bella both view carlisle as this saintly, can-do-no-wrong figure up on a pedestal of Perfect Kindness, and we never really get another perspective except for what little rosalie tells bella in eclipse.

but changing rosalie ""for edward"" (and ymmv on exactly how much that was a factor, because we never actually hear about this from carlisle's pov) is pretty icky. and I personally don't even read it as, like, he found a girl dying in the street and went "hmmm she looks hot let's bring her home as A Mate For My Son and never give her a choice about that," which seems to be a fairly popular interpretation among people who don't like carlisle (note that in eclipse, rose explicitly states it was up to her whether or not to stay with the cullens.) I see it more as "he changed this girl without thinking about it because he couldn't bear to see her die, and later the similarity to how he'd changed esme struck him and his brain went, 'hmm...what if?'" which strikes me as a normal thing to have a few brief thoughts about, but not a good thought to cling to after rosalie woke up and it became clear how miserable she was as a vampire.

but just because it’s normal doesn’t mean it isn’t also kinda fucked up to immediately start thinking of a rape survivor as Potential Romantic Object For Son. like, those two things can be true simultaneously. it doesn’t mean carlisle is Secretly A Horrible Person or anything, just that he’s not in fact an infallibly perfect saint of kindness.

so I think rosalie’s anger at him is entirely justified, even though I myself would feel very differently about being a vampire in her situation. I wish we got more of a look at the post-rose/pre-emmett era, when it was just her and edward constantly butting heads! I always got the sense that a lot of edward’s issues with her stem from her refusal to worship carlisle the way he does.

the emmett flashback in MS basically tells us that rosalie didn't forgive carlisle for changing her until he agreed to change emmett—the passage where edward realizes just how far carlisle would go to make rosalie happy (or depending on your pov, how far he'd go out of guilt) is really interesting to me.

carlisle got improbably lucky with his first two "creations—" a Perfect Son who worshipped him and a Perfect Wife who had secretly already pined for him for years, both of whom were willing and eager (edward's Murder Rumspringa notwithstanding lmao) to follow his weirdass animal blood diet. he was probably feeling pretty good by the time he changed rosalie (once lucky, twice confident, y’know?) it must have been a rude awakening to realize that however noble his intentions, his choice to save her went against her wishes and made her miserable. 

I’m sure it made him sad that she would rather have died, especially once he came to love her as a daughter. and then there was that parental frustration of “why can’t my kids get along?? they’re both so great!!” 

I also bet rosalie’s longing for her lost humanity and a nuclear family with biological kids reawakened his own (and esme’s) feelings along those lines. I think it’s interesting that carlisle longs to be human, too. not in the despairing way rosalie does, but enough to empathize. maybe they bonded over that at some point.

because by the time twilight rolls around, they’re cool. I find it especially telling that in midnight sun, rosalie was 100% ready to kill bella but then (notably unlike jasper) backed down the second carlisle said no. it shows that she really does see him as a parent. it makes sense for her character to want to cling to those “human nuclear family” roles the cullens have implausibly adopted.

and, circling back to emmett, his change being the thing that helps rosalie forgive carlisle also makes sense. because suddenly, rose is in his shoes. she’s directly confronted with a dying person who can only be saved by Emergency Vampirization, and she makes the same choice carlisle did—arguably for more selfish reasons!

so I’m sure they had a heart-to-heart after that, with carlisle (hopefully) apologizing again and reassuring rosalie that she made the right choice.

even then, I think deep down there’s always gonna be some part of rose that resents him. sure, she’s got her happyish ending with emmett and her consolation prize with renesmee, but it’s clear in eclipse that although she’s forgiven him, she hasn’t forgotten.

and I mean, that’s fairly true to life. everyone’s parents fuck them up somehow, whether in little ways or big ways, and a lot of people still manage to make peace with them. it almost makes carlisle’s and rosalie’s found-family bond more impressive, because they had to consciously work through their issues and maintain it. 

and once you get past those issues, there’s tons of stuff for them to bond over. they’re both very intellectually-inclined people, and I’m sure carlisle admired rosalie’s pursuit of all her degrees and impressive mechanical knowledge. she’s much fiercer than carlisle (or edward or esme,) good in a crisis, and better at making tough decisions, which is something they sorely needed (especially pre-jasper.) and I suspect rosalie admires carlisle’s patience and (secretly) his optimism, two things that don’t come naturally to her. in short, they’re a good balance for each other.