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calder · 1 year ago

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Released in 2010, Obsidian Entertainment's Fallout: New Vegas actively concerns itself with the realities of gay existence, and is widely recognized as a noteworthy work of queer science fiction. New Vegas extensively examines social attitudes towards homosexuality among the game's major factions, and primarily conveys this lore through gay and bisexual characters describing their own experiences. It also allowed the player to mechanically set the Courier's sexual orientation. By taking both available perks, the player character can be bisexual. By choosing neither, the player can opt out of seeing flirtatious dialogue options.

Uniquely, Fallout: New Vegas explores homosexuality in the context of wasteland societies, and touches upon related issues. The core theme of New Vegas is that the desire to recreate the past is driven by irrational nostalgia, and any endeavor to manifest past glory is dangerous and doomed. The social issue of homophobia is used as a demonstrative example. The resurrection of corporate and military power structures presents new avenues for Old World problems such as institutional homophobia to reemerge. One of the many issues that divide the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion is the latter's open persecution of gay people. The NCR is described as tolerant and even accepting of same-sex relationships, though acceptance tends to fall off the further one moves away from the developed, urbanized core of New California. In recent years, the Republic's rapid economic transformation has led to an unforeseen erosion of the humanitarian ideals which it was founded to serve. In practice, to recreate America was to take on its shortcomings and its sins. As subsistence scavenging has dried up, the people of the NCR increasingly turn to wage labor, entrepreneurial venture, or military enlistment to keep their families fed. Meanwhile, their government enacts morally corrosive imperialism (narrative verbiage), their dominion expanding indefinitely as their infrastructure crumbles from within. This has led to a profit-based imperial monoculture which must conquer, consume, and coerce to perpetuate. As personal politics and service labor grow in importance, people find themselves more inclined to present as "normal" in the interest of financial stability and political expedience. A loading screen visualizes this culture of artificial social normalcy: the portrait of President Aradesh on the NCR 5$ bill neglects to depict his unibrow, earring, and facial scarification, overall portraying the once-chieftain so cleanly-cut as to be unrecognizable at first glance. He also appears to be wearing a collared shirt or suit as opposed to the robe he wore in Fallout.

In the Legion, Caesar has mandated that every legionnaire take a wife and produce children, citing high infant mortality rates and the constant need for soldiers, and going as far as instituting child quotas. He treats human beings as a resource to be exploited for war. Ostensibly in this aim homosexuality has been declared a capital offense punishable by death. Historically, routine demonstrations of violence towards women and gay people are a deliberate feature of fascist societies, the only logical cultural conclusion of a government devoted entirely to war and control. In Forlorn Hope letter 9, an NCR soldier wrote wrote the following to his boyfriend:

Dearest Andrew, Writing this seems pretty morbid, but tomorrow we march into the no man's land between our camp and Nelson, which is crawling with Legion. The Major insisted I write this damn "if you get this, I'm dead" letter so here it is. What a crock. I have the luck of the devil and your love on my side, so I'll be home soon. Keep the porch light on for me. We'll party in New Vegas when I get back. I love you. —Devin

Devin believed he would prevail over the Legion because his love would keep him safe. He was found dying or dead on the battlefield, the letter was found on his body. In a post-release patch, the injured soldiers were removed from the battlefield for performance reasons, and never re-implemented. Driven largely in reaction to the Legion's hyper-masculine posturing and misogyny, rumors persist across the Mojave that gay male relationships are not only common within the Legion, but condoned. These rumors are repeated commonly in NCR society. A closeted NCR Major mentions that the Legion is "a little more... forgiving" about close male "friendships," speaking in a hushed tone to avoid suspicion. At the same outpost, the player can encounter Cass, a bisexual civilian woman. She may flirt with a male Courier, who may imply they are gay, prompting her to imply gay men are more common in the Legion. Even as gay men fight and die in the name of love under his command, NCR General Oliver may remark to Courier Six at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam: "If you think after all that's happened, I'm going to grab my ankles and take it like the Legion..."

This writing pertains to institutionalized homophobia which manifests in practice though power structures and social interactions without being written into law. Simply put, in his derogatory remark, the general expresses to his army that military surrender is gay, much like their gay enemy. From the brevity and bluntness of this remark, it's clear that this sentiment is already well understood among his ranks. Logically, to project strength in the eyes of such a leader, one might also project homophobia by scrutinizing and harassing one's peers and subordinates. In this atmosphere, the expression of homophobia is not only normalized, but materially incentivized. For the ambitious, it becomes a tool, and a way of casting shame upon rivals. For the closeted, homophobia becomes a survival tactic, hoping to throw scrutiny off oneself. This is why Major Knight is immediately frightened when a male Courier flirts with him. He is so profoundly alienated that he romanticizes life as a gay man under the Legion. The Legion punish homosexuality with death, and yet Knight characterizes them as more "forgiving" than the NCR. Through these apparently disparate events, the audience can trace how a distorted perception of gay people emerges among insecure men in a military environment, and subsequently becomes ingrained in the corresponding civilian culture. At the 188 Trading Post, a lesbian from the Brotherhood of Steel named Veronica also wryly remarks that she believes legionaries have gay sex about as often as straight sex. She also notes that this only applies to men, as women have no rights whatsoever in Legion society. In this aside, she conveys a pre-existing frustration with lesbophobic social norms. Veronica also mentions that the people of her bunker would rather she remain on the surface. The Mojave Brotherhood of Steel has no official policy prohibiting homosexuality, but an implicit attitude among its dominant members that their limited numbers require everyone to have children to avoid extinction. Numerically, this may seem logical on the surface, given their reluctance to recruit outsiders. However, given their tiny population, this is an ineffective countermeasure, as they do not have nearly enough members to maintain genetic diversity for more than a few generations. This approach is not universally supported by all family units within the Brotherhood, but every individual is ultimately at the mercy of the elder. Veronica was in a lesbian relationship, but they were quietly separated by Elder Elijah, due to the dominant culture of enforcing heterosexual pairing among their population.

Caesar's law has not ended homosexuality within his domain. Despite the obvious risks, some legionaries have continued to pursue relationships behind closed doors, especially given their access to slaves. So long as members complete their societal obligations and fulfill the child quotas, they are able to pursue romance with other men in secret. Homosexual relationships in the faction are noted as being relatively equal compared to the average Legion husband and wife, in a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" sort of open secret policy. Gay legionaries must always make sure to keep their activities hidden. A centurion was once almost caught fraternizing with the teenage boy he had chosen to tend his tent. Despite previous "romantic" intentions, he quickly resolved to dispose of the slave to dispel suspicion. Had they been caught together, the centurion would have been charged with homosexuality and sentenced to death. This story is only known because the enslaved young man, Jimmy, managed to escape execution. Further illustrating the cruelty intrinsic to Legion governance, it's stated that homosexuality was the crime, and not the rape of a young slave; in fact, it seems Jimmy was forced to contribute to the child quota despite being a gay teenager, and the experience left him traumatized. He has resolved to never have sex with another woman, as the very notion triggers memories which fill him with disgust, and (in his own words) makes him feel like a slave all over again. The Strip is indifferent to gay people, viewing them as another opportunity to make caps. Both the Gomorrah and the Atomic Wrangler are interested in maximizing profits, and their prostitution services cater to clients regardless of their orientation. The openly gay Jimmy works at nearby Casa Madrid, but there is some tension among his peers due to his co-worker Maude's blatant homophobia. She supposes he's "okay, for one of those," and if propositioned by a female Courier, Maude will direct them to Sweetie for such "perverted" services. Pretty Sarah must regularly intervene to keep the peace among her staff.

The Followers of the Apocalypse, well-read punks who seek to embody healing through anarchistic values, are not concerned with gender. Most are openly and casually sexually active. Upon meeting Courier Six, Arcade Gannon offhandedly makes his gayness known, unprompted. The audience must face the fact that Arcade's apprehension of the Legion is far from abstract; under Legion law, he would be put to death. One possible ending gives further insight into Caesar's hypocrisy: should the player sell Arcade into slavery and leave Caesar alive, he will keep Arcade as a personal physician and philosophical advisor. They intellectually spar at length, and Caesar grows singularly fond of him. Accordingly, Arcade imitates the historic suicide of Cato the Younger by disemboweling himself. The Legion's remaining medics attempted to save his life, but none were Arcade's equal. Caesar understood his doctor's final gesture of contempt, and mourned him for months.

New Vegas ventures further into themes of healing from the trauma of sexual violence, from the perspective of a lesbian character. Corporal Betsy, an NCR sharpshooter, is a rape survivor, and suffers with PTSD from the incident. Her unprocessed trauma has manifested as a maladaptive tendency to aggressively and explicitly proposition the women she encounters, in an effort to reassert a sense of control. This defensive hypersexual impulse has negatively impacted her ability to connect with other women. A male superior officer notes that her behavior is inappropriate for anyone of her stature, but abstains from disciplining her out of sincere concern for her mental health. The Courier can help her begin to recognize these problems, and convince her to seek treatment from Doctor Usanagi at the New Vegas medical clinic, which proves helpful to her as she processes and heals from her trauma.

In Old World Blues, the Think Tank are five floating brains in jars who express themselves by waving robotic arms bearing screens depicting facial features. Before the War, they were federal scientists who committed crimes against humanity in the name of weapons development. Each is stuck in some sort of neuro-bionic feedback loop which prevents them from moving forward with their projects, mentally binding them to their central laboratory. Walking through their homes at Higgs Village, it's clear each was deeply neurotic before they were transformed into floating brains. Now without bodies, they attempt to maintain the illusion that they are exempt from sexuality as purely mental beings, but each displays obvious interest in the human form. They have codified this shaming with the term "formography." Most of the men are obsessively defensive over their complete disinterest in penises, which they talk about constantly. However, the shameless Dr. Dala shows overwhelming interest in observing and recording any and all human functions. Already androgynous in her pre-War life, Dala has taken to self-identifying as a "gender neutral entity" (though she is not known to use they/them pronouns). Regardless of the Courier's gender, they may coquettishly scratch themselves, clear their throat, and stretch in front of Dala until her biomed gel decoagulates. Dr. 8 also responds positively to graphic masturbation advice from Couriers of either gender. The X-8 research facility is ostensibly a massive immersive shrine to Doctor Borous's hatred of Richie "Ball-Lover" Marcus, a long-dead child who bullied Borous centuries ago. He also clings to his resentment of one Betsy Bright, who refused to attend a dance with him, supposedly so she could "go smoke with RICHIE MARCUS." Clearly arrested in development, Borous has literally built a temple to the fantasy of torturing his adolescent romantic rival and feeding him to dogs. His frozen, static characterization of the jock Richie Marcus as a "pinko-commie" who "likes balls" reflects the shallowness, pettiness, and overall misanthropy underlying his patriotic identity. It remains apparent throughout Old World Blues that the Think Tank are all chronically sexually repressed, which is inseparable from the values of the violent and judgmental pre-War culture which created them. With time and isolation, this ingrained repression has manifested as various intense and deranged psychosexual behaviors, including rage-fueled homophobia, voyeurism, and the obsessive performance of puritanical pretense.

____

“Although I’ve been out for a very long time, I made a conscious effort to be out with relation to this project, as I wanted to be visible as a lesbian in the game industry. New Vegas itself is, I think, one of (if not the) best games out there in how we treat homosexuality – and all of that is very intentional.”

“If my work on FNV, if my being out has helped even one gay person, then I have succeeded.” — Tess “Obsidian’s Gay Cowgirl” Treadwell

____

written (with help from other editors) for fallout.fandom.com/wiki/LGBT_representation_in_the_Fallout_series criticism welcome

#fnv

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fans4wga · 2 years ago

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SAG-AFTRA president Fran Drescher's strike announcement speech

youtube

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Thank you. Thank you everyone for coming to this press conference today. It's really important that this negotiation be covered because the eyes of the world and particularly the eyes of labor are upon us. What happens here is important, because what's happening to us is happening across all fields of labor. By means of when employers make Wall Street and greed their priority and they forget about the essential contributors that make the machine run. We have a problem. And we are experiencing that right at this moment. This is a very seminal hour for us.

I went in, in earnest, thinking that we would be able to avert a strike. The gravity of this move is not lost on me, or our negotiating committee, or our board members, who have voted unanimously to proceed with a strike.

It's a very serious thing that impacts thousands if not millions of people, all across this country and around the world. Not only members of this union, but people who work in other industries that service the people that work in this industry. And so it came with great sadness that we came to this crossroads, but we had no choice. We are the victims here; we are being victimized by a very greedy entity.

I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with, are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly. How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they are losing money left and right while giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment.

We stand in solidarity, in unprecedented unity. Our union and our sister unions and the unions around the world are standing by us, as well as other labor unions. Because at some point the jig is up. You cannot keep being dwindled and marginalized and disrespected and dishonored. The entire business model has been changed. By streaming, digital, AI. This is a moment of history that is a moment of truth. If we don't stand tall right now, we are all going to be in trouble. We are all going to be in jeopardy of being replaced by machines and big business who cares more about Wall Street than you and your family.

Most of Americans don't have more than $500 in an emergency. This is a very big deal, and it weighed heavy on us. But at some point, you have to say no. We’re not going to take this anymore. You people are crazy. What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Privately they all say we’re the center of the wheel. Everybody else tinkers around our artistry, but actions speak louder than words. And there was nothing there. It was insulting.

So we came together in strength and solidarity and unity with the largest strike authorization vote in our union's history. And we made the hard decision that we tell you, as we stand before you today. This is major. It's really serious and it is going to impact every single person that is in labor. We are fortunate enough to be in a country right now that happens to be labor friendly. And yet, we are facing opposition that was so labor unfriendly. So tone deaf to what we are saying. You cannot change the business model as much as it has changed and not expect the contract to change too.

We are not going to keep doing incremental changes on a contract that no longer honors what is happening right now with this business model that was foisted upon us. What are we doing? Moving around furniture on the titanic? It's crazy.

So the jig is up, AMPTP. We stand tall. You have to wake up and smell the coffee. We are labor and we stand tall and we demand respect. And to be honored for our contribution. You share the wealth because you cannot exist without us. Thank you.

#sag-aftra #actors guild strike #fran drescher #sag-aftra strike #current events #writers guild strike #i stand with the wga #wga solidarity #Youtube #wga strike #writers strike

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amazinglyashy · 3 months ago

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N/SFW Xavier Thoughts

A bit of a switch, but not in the way you would think just looking at him. If you want to get a bit dominant over him, go ahead- he’ll play right along with every single word and love every second of it- but don’t be fooled. He can reverse the roles in an instant if he thinks it’ll be fun, and dominating you comes like a second nature to him, and in a way where it’s like he’s a starving man and you’re the only meal in sight.

Whenever he’s in bed with you for a session, you can feel the desperation practically dripping off of him- as if simply being around you awakens something inside of him. Definitely has jumped you to pin you suddenly to the bed, breathing heavy and labored as he stares down at you, his eyes flickering over every single inch of your body. You can only guess just what he’s thinking, and that guess is probably ‘he’s thinking of all the ways to ruin me’.

And don’t get him wrong, he can be sweet and fluffy, full of care and love in the heaps of blankets and plushies that take over a good portion of his bed, especially if you’ve had a long day but still want him. He’ll nuzzle into you, placing long and drawn out kisses down the crook of your neck as he moves lower, his hands sliding under your work clothes with some obviously fake excuse to get them off of your body.

‘If you’re going to lie down with me for a nap, you’ll need to be a lot more comfortable. Let’s take care of this, shall we?’

Regardless of the role he plays, he’s definitely big on servicing you. He’ll say it’s to help you relax if he’s being gentle, or he’ll say it’s to punish you for teasing him if he’s in the mood to control you. You won’t even notice what he’s planning to do until his hands are working across your chest, or his mouth is inches away from clasping down on one of your most sensitive parts, and boy is he fake-innocently smug about it too.

‘Oh, I’m happy that it felt good for you. I didn’t know if you would like it.’

#.writey #lds #lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #lds xavier #xavier x reader #x reader #x reader smut #n/sfw

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teamworxmoving · 2 months ago

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Top Tips to Find the Best Moving Company!

Whether you are moving to a new home or an office, the experience can make you feel overwhelmed, excited as well, and nervous at the same time. However, among everything, the most stressful choice is choosing one of the best moving companies near me.

Moving things from one place to another can be stressful for oneself, but hiring a professional moving company in Bellevue Washington, can make your task a lot easier. Therefore, you can look for Team Worx Moving, one of the best moving companies near me in Wahington.

However, if you want to do your research, here are some tips you can follow.

Tips You Need to Follow to Choose the Best Moving Company

1. Receive Estimates in Person

Avoid accepting quotes over the phone or online without an in-home survey. Reputable moving companies usually offer free in-person estimates to provide an accurate cost based on the volume of items, distance, and any special requirements. Be wary of companies that provide a significantly low estimate, as it could indicate hidden charges or subpar services.

2. Compare Multiple Quotes

Compare estimates from at least three different moving companies to find one of the best moving companies near me that offers you the best deals. Cost is a factor, but not the only reason for making a decision. Look for what each company offers: packing services, insurance, storage options, and additional fees. It's best to choose a company that offers a balance between affordability and quality service.

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Be watchful for red flags when finding a professional moving company in Bellevue Washington. Examples of such flags include the following:

No street address: Companies without a verifiable office address are best avoided.

Advance payment deposit: Movers that take advance payments usually request this at delivery, not before moving.

Unprofessional conduct: Rude customer service and poor communication are warning signs.

4. Insurance Coverage

One of the best moving companies near me should be able to provide you with insurance options to safeguard your belongings during the move. There are usually two types of coverage:

Full-value protection: The firm is responsible for repairing or replacing any damaged or lost items.

Released-value protection: This provides minimum cover according to the weight of your goods. Ask the company to detail these two options, and you can then get the coverage your possessions require.

5. Ask About Experience and Expertise

Moving requires a lot of experience if you have special needs to be met such as moving antiques, artwork, or fragile pieces. Ask how long the company has been in business and if they have expertise in handling special requirements. An old mover has more skills and assets to ensure a smooth relocation.

6. Read the Contract Carefully

Before signing any agreement with the professional moving company in Bellevue Washington, you must review the contract. It should detail all the services, costs, delivery dates, and terms under which the parties are expected to act. Clarify any questions or concerns you have with the company before signing anything. Never sign any blank or incomplete contract that might end up with unwanted complications later.

7. Ask About Additional Services

Some moving companies offer additional services such as packing, unpacking, furniture assembly, and temporary storage. These services may add to the cost, but they will save you time and effort. If you need any of these services, check ahead of time if they are available and what the cost is.

8. Check Availability

If you're moving during peak seasons like summer or holidays, ensure that the company is available on your desired date. It is always recommended to book in advance to get your slot reserved and avoid last-minute hassle. Sometimes, flexibility on dates can help you get better deals.

Final Thoughts!

Finding one of the best companies is time-consuming but worth it. If you are trying to find one of the best moving companies near me in Wahington, then make sure to watch out for Team Worx Moving. The professional experts at Team Worx Moving will give you the best solutions. Hiring Team Worx Moving is a source of reassurance when relocating to a new place!

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coastalmovinglabor · 1 year ago

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j-k-writes · 3 months ago

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The Bronze Targaryen - 7

Summary - Ten years after the marriage of Prince (Y/N) and Princess Rhaenyra, Prince (Y/N) Royce, Lord of Runestone has returned permanently to Kingslanding.

Warnings - childbirth, childhood bullying, general HOTD warnings, fighting

“Keep breathing.” The midwife instructed Rhaenyra. “And push.”

Rhaenyra clutched (Y/N)'s hand tightly as she did, and (Y/N) just rubbed his other hand up her arm, murmuring words of encouragement to his wife.

“And again.”

Rhaenyra groaned, turning away from (Y/N) to face the midwife on her other side. She was breathless as she spoke, “I can’t.”

The babe held no regard for their mother’s feelings as Rhaenyra cried out once more, squeezing her husband impossibly tighter as she pushed. (Y/N) closed his eyes at the sounds of his wife’s cries, repeating a mantra of soothing and encouraging words as she labored.

“A boy, your graces.” (Y/N) opened his eyes as the piercing cries of a babe echoed through the room.

Rhaenyra breathlessly chuckled, releasing (Y/N) to reach for the babe, “Healthy?”

“Kicking like a goat, princess.”

(Y/N) beamed, pressing a kiss to his wife’s sweaty forehead as she held the babe. “Well done, ñuha jorrāelagon.

The peace did not last more than a moment as soon Elinda was bursting through the door, Rhaenyra and (Y/N) turned to look at her as she paused in front of them. “Princess, the Queen has requested the child be brought to her…immediately.”

“Why?” Elinda did not answer, only bowing her head and (Y/N) pitied the poor girl. He felt Rhaenyra move to get up beside him, and he grabbed her, mindful of her recent labor and the babe in her arms. “I’ll take him myself.”

“You should remain abed, Rhaenyra-” (Y/N) protested.

“Yes, I should!” She snapped at him, before sighing and turning to her handmaidens. “Help me dress.”

(Y/N) opened his mouth to protest more as Rhaenyra handed the babe off to him and a fresh dress was brought over to her. But she just shook her head, “I must bring him myself, (Y/N), or she will not be satisfied.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but turned his attention away from the stubborn princess as the babe began to cry. He gently shushed him, bouncing him lightly up and down. He watched as Rhaenyra birthed the afterbirth, and she did not meet his stern gaze as her maid’s finished cleaning and dressing her. Rhaenyra took the babe back, despite (Y/N)’s protests, as they exited the chambers.

“Will you at least take my arm?” (Y/N) grabbed the arm she held out as she slowly limped through the halls. She paused at the start of the stairs, bending in pain. “What? Rhaenyra what is it?”

“Fuck,” She whispered, before holding her head high and steeling her expression. “Just walk.”

(Y/N) lifted the front of her dress with his free hand, “This is ridiculous. What could she possibly want?”

“You know what she wants.”

“I thought we were past her attempts at undermining your position.” The only response Rhaenyra gave was a wince and they continued up the steps.

“Princess, Prince (Y/N), it is a privilege to be amongst the first to congratulate you.”

“Thank you, Lord Caswell.”

“If I may be of any service.” (Y/N) rolled his eyes at the lord.

“The day may yet come, my Lord.” Rhaenyra responded, wincing only a few steps later and once again bending in pain. (Y/N) caught her, holding her upright.

“That’s enough.” (Y/N) said, making to turn around. “We’re turning back. Alicent can come to us if she wishes.”

“No.” (Y/N) scoffed, but Rhaenyra continued. “Not unless you wish to carry me down those fucking stairs.”

(Y/N) looked at the babe in Rhaenyra’s arms, and just shook his head. He gathered up her dresses again and helped her finish her walk. “This is absurd, Nyra.”

Rhaenyra just made a noise of agreement limping stone faced to the Queen’s chambers. Ser Criston Cole was stationed outside the Queen’s door, and (Y/N) glared at him as the knight bowed and opened the door for them both. Alicent was standing, waiting for them, as they entered. She turned to look at the parents, feigning surprise at their presence.

“Rhaenyra!” Alicent said, “You should be resting after your labors.”

(Y/N) scoffed, rolling his eyes at the woman before guiding Rhaenyra to sit.

“I have no doubt that you would prefer that, your grace.”

“Talya, fetch a cushion for the Princess.”

“There’s no need.” Rhaenyra said, but (Y/N) saw the way she winced at the small movements she made to get comfortable. The maid positioned the pillow under Rhaenyra anyways, and Alicent dismissed her handmaidens. Before she could speak, however, Viserys entered the chambers, a smile plastered on his sickly face.

“What happy news this morning.”

(Y/N) smiled, “Indeed, your grace.”

“Where is he?” Rhaenyra handed the babe off to (Y/N), who turned toward his uncle. “Where is my grandson?” (Y/N) placed the babe in Viserys’ arms, smiling as his uncle cooed over the boy. “A fine prince. Sturdy, he will make a fearsome knight.”

“Does the babe have a name yet?” (Y/N)’s smile immediately fell at the sound of the Queen’s voice, turning to face her.

“We have not-”

“Joffrey.” (Y/N) paused at Rhaenyra’s words. She smiled at him as she continued. “He’ll be called Joffrey.”

“That’s an unusual name for a Targaryen.” Alicent’s mouth curled up.

“He is a Royce,” (Y/N) said, unable to keep his disdain out of his voice. Alicent had never been kind to his sons, spreading ill rumors about the source of their dark features as if their father wasn’t a Lord of the Vale.

Before anyone else could respond, Viserys spoke once more, “I do believe he has his father’s nose.”

(Y/N) smiled, and Alicent rolled her eyes. Clearing his throat (Y/N) tore his gaze from the Queen turning toward his uncle. “If you don’t mind, uncle. Your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest.”

Viserys nodded, and Rhaenyra stood up with (Y/N)’s help. But before they could take the babe from the King, Alicent stepped in front taking him into her arms. Both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra tensed as they watched Alicent with Joffrey, as Viserys approached his daughter (Y/N) followed after the Queen.

He watched her carefully, motioning for her to give his son back to him. She smiled at him as she handed him back, although it did not reach his eyes. “Do keep trying Prince (Y/N), sooner or later you will get one with your eyes.”

(Y/N) returned her false smile, “He has the eyes of my ancestors, Queen Alicent. It does not matter which ones.”

“I do not understand why you must always respond to her, (Y/N).” Rhaenyra said as they walked side by side back to her chambers. “You are only giving her the satisfaction of angering you.”

“Should I just stand back and watch as she makes vile accusations about our sons.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, limping ahead of him. “You seemed content with watching for the first ten years of our marriage.”

“Rhaenyra,” (Y/N) picked up his pace to catch up with his limping wife. “My absence was necessary.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra did not meet his eyes. “Certainly necessary in Alicent’s plan to undermine me. It was after all your continued absence that let the rumors spread so far.”

Rhaenyra continued the walk in silence, and with that (Y/N) knew the conversation was over. She reached the chambers, where Jace, Luke, and Harwin were already waiting for the couple. Harwin stood at the sight of them both, which in turn caused Jace and Luke to notice their presence.

“Mother,” Jace stood, rushing over to a pot placed upon leather on the table. “Look.”

“We chose an egg for the baby.” Luke spoke.

“Ah, that looks like the perfect one.” Rhaenyra smiled, as Harwin helped her lower herself into a chair.

“I let Luke choose.”

“Thank you, Jace.”

(Y/N) smiled, walking slowly over to Ser Harwin. “That was kind of you, Jace.”

“Not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, your graces. I thought it best to escort the lads.”

“Rhaenyra and I thank you, Commander.” (Y/N) smiled, holding Joffrey up for Harwin to take.

Harwin smiled, taking the bundle gently from (Y/N)’s arms. “Another boy I heard. What a fine knight you are going to make.”

“His name is Joffrey.” Rhaenyra said, and Harwin hummed, bouncing the babe. (Y/N) smiled at the sight of the two of them, looking over to Rhaenyra who met his gaze with a smile of her own.

“Father,” (Y/N) turned just in time to catch his two eldest before they ran right into Harwin. “Please may I hold Joffrey.”

Luke and Jace both reached for the babe, who Harwin dutifully held out of their reach. “No, no. You two must go back to the Dragonpit.” The boys groaned, making their father laugh as he gestured for the kingsguard outside their door to escort them. (Y/N) shut the doors behind the boys as they left, hearing Harwin speak to Joffrey behind him.

“You’re asleep in front of the Commander of the City Watch.” Harwin mused. “Terrible lack of respect.”

“A certain insolence runs in the family, I’m afraid.” Rhaenyra smiled, shooting (Y/N) a look as he took a seat next to her.

He blinked, “What?”

Harwin laughed, “Nothing, love. Nothing at all.”

(Y/N) frowned, leaning back into the cushions of the seat. Rhaenyra let her head fall on his shoulder, and his hands found their way into her messy hair. “I left you two alone for too long, you’ve teamed up against me.”

“Did you give your cousin a pig?” (Y/N) asked, already knowing the answer by the look on the two boys' faces. Viserys had come to the Lord of Runestone with his wife’s worries earlier that day, and (Y/N) had just sighed, promising his uncle he would deal with it.

This was not the first of these types of incidents, however, it was the first (Y/N) was present for; only having returned permanently to Kingslanding three moons prior. Rhaenyra had written to him of the boys’ behavior multiple times throughout the years and during his visits to Kingslanding he had addressed it with them, but his lectures never seemed to take hold in his sons’ heads.

Neither boy responded, and (Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He desired Rhaenyra’s presence, the boys more inclined to listen to her, but Rhaenyra was busy with the king’s council. So while his wife was busy fixing the boys’ mistakes in court he was left to fix them here.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourselves?”

Jace frowned, and Luke slowly dragged his gaze from the floor. He spoke softly, “It was Aegon’s idea.”

“Luke!” Jace shot his brother a dirty look.

“Enough, Jace.” (Y/N) snapped, causing the boy to shrink in on himself. “Is what Luke said true?”

Jace nodded.

“Do you always follow your cousin blindly?” (Y/N) asked. “With no thought toward the consequences of such actions?”

The boys stayed silent, and (Y/N) sighed. He kneeled down to their level, “Boys look at me.” They looked at him, and (Y/N) continued. “Jace, one day you will be heir to the Iron Throne, and you Luke, you are the heir to Runestone. Your cousin is none of those things. He may be older than both of you, but that does not mean you should be following his lead. Especially in matters like this.”

“We understand, father.” Jace said, and (Y/N) nodded. He stood up, bringing the boys toward him. He pressed a kiss to the top of their dark hair.

“I want to hear no more about these types of incidents.” (Y/N) sighed, releasing them. He urged them toward the door where he knew there were kingsguards waiting to escort them toward their lessons. “Go to your lessons, I will see you after.”

(Y/N) watched as his sons walked away, collapsing into the chair behind him. He sent a silent apology to his mother in the afterlife, and he knew she would find joy in his sons’ antics after everything he put her through in his youth.

Rhaenyra was pacing the room as (Y/N) entered the chambers. Joffrey was gone, most likely with his wet nurse, and Jace and Luke had yet to return from their lessons.

“What is wrong?”

Rhaenyra paused, worrying at her bottom lip. “Harwin attacked Ser Criston in the yard.”

“What?”

“Ser Criston made…unflattering comments about his relationship with our sons.” (Y/N) huffed, turning on his heel but before he could go anywhere Rhaenyra grabbed his arm. “Do not. Harwin is in enough trouble, do not make it worse.”

“I simply wish to hear what unflattering remarks Cole made.” (Y/N) seethed, and Rhaenyra laced her fingers through (Y/N)’s. “He should not be allowed to speak those lies so blatantly, Nyra.”

“Right now we need to worry about the consequences of Harwin’s actions,” Rhaenyra rubbed her thumb in soothing circles on (Y/N)’s hand. “You can deal with Cole later.”

(Y/N) deflated, Harwin’s father would not take kindly to Harwin’s actions. His position as son of the Hand would not be enough to save him from the repercussions of attacking one of the kingsguard, as loathed as Cole was.

“Come.” Rhaenyra led him to the back of her chambers, pushing open a loose piece of the wall. (Y/N) followed his wife into the corridor, giving her a questioning look. “Your father informed me of these.”

“Of course he did.” Prince Daemon, corrupter of young princesses.

Rhaenyra smiled at his tone, although (Y/N) could tell it was only half-hearted. (Y/N) followed her throughout the corridors, both walking silently as they went. (Y/N) held his breath as the sound of the Hand’s voice carried through the corridor, inching closer and closer to the room.

“It fills me with unrelenting shame.”

“So that’s what this is about then?” Harwin scoffed. “Your shame.”

“Our shame, Harwin!” (Y/N) flinched at the volume of the Hand’s voice, and Rhaenyra grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Shame on the whole of House Strong.”

“What? Because I laid my hands on that insufferable Cole, the son of a steward?”

“He is a knight of the kingsguard now-”

“He assailed Prince Jacaerys, the future heir to the throne.”

The sound of shouts from both men was too loud for (Y/N) to make out any words, but he could hear and see items being thrown across the room. He’d thought he escaped this type of arguing when he left Runestone, but it seemed even Kingslanding was not safe from petty infighting.

“You have laid us open to accusations of an uglier treachery.” He heard Rhaenyra’s breath hitch next to him, and (Y/N) frowned.

“And what treachery is that?”

“Don’t play the fool with me, boy. Your intimacy with the Princess Rhaenyra, not to mention Prince (Y/N),” (Y/N) winced, “Is an offense that would mean exile and death for you, for them, for the children!”

“It is rumor only. Spun by the Princess’ rivals.”

“There are people in this court who believe otherwise. You are lucky His Grace the King does not accept these rumors, it is his belief alone that stands between you and a headsman.”

“I wish my father affected a similar belief.”

“Have I not these many years? And yet today, you publicly assaulted a Knight of the Kingsguard, knowing the rumors, in the defense of the children of your-”

Rhaenyra turned away, covering her mouth as she started her descent back to her chambers. (Y/N) watched Harwin’s reaction to his father’s words, unable to help the small smile that graced his face at the commander’s response.

“You have your honor and I have mine.”

By the time (Y/N) returned to the chambers, Rhaenyra was sitting on the couch, her head in her hands. (Y/N) walked up behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulder rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort her. He placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

“We will figure this out.” (Y/N) whispered. He could tell Rhaenyra did not believe his words, in truth he didn’t truly believe them himself. He had hoped when Gunthor left Runestone, finally allowing him the freedom to leave Gerold as his steward as he left for Kingslanding, that he had left this type of drama behind him. But it seemed he’d forgotten the Queen and her sworn protector seemed desperate to undermine Rhaenyra, her children, and those around her at any chance they got.

(Y/N) sighed, walking toward the door. He opened it enough to speak with the guard outside. “Can you please summon Ser Harwin?”

The guard nodded, bowing before walking off. Harwin walked through the doors only ten minutes later, sighing at the sight of the two royals as he entered. Rhaenyra did not speak as he entered, but (Y/N) stood.

“What were you thinking?” (Y/N) seethed. “Did you really think you could get away with assaulting Cole in the middle of the yard?”

“He insulted your boys. I did nothing you yourself would not have done if you had heard that bastard. I view those boys as my own blood, (Y/N), and I will not tolerate insults from Cole, or anyone, against you or them.” Harwin spat back, immediately deflating after hearing his own tone. (Y/N) clenched his jaw, unable to stop his anger at Harwin from disappearing. Rhaenyra looked up at the both of them, motioning for Harwin to join her where she was sitting.

Harwin took a seat next to Rhaenyra, and she grabbed his hand. (Y/N) spoke as it seemed his wife did not feel up to the effort. He stood in front of the knight, “There are other ways to deal with such insults, Harwin. You should have come to me instead of attacking Cole.”

Harwin smiled up at the man, “I do not work in the shadows as well as you do. I am a Strong we fight our battles in the daylight.”

(Y/N) frowned, grabbing Harwin’s chin. “This will not go unpunished, especially by your father.”

“He has already expelled me from the City Watch, but I’m sure that will not be enough for him.”

(Y/N) sighed, looking at Rhaenyra but she just looked defeated. “I just returned to Kingslanding. I have spent years away from you both, and now we must be separated again?”

Rhaenyra finally spoke, “We do not yet know if Harwin will be sent away.”

Harwin and (Y/N) made eye contact, both knowing the truth Rhaenyra was denying herself. Lord Lyonel Strong was too much of an honorable man to take this type of action lightly. At the very least, Lyonel will send Harwin away from court in an attempt to put an end to these rumors once and for all.

(Y/N) decided to let his wife have her small comfort. He pressed a kiss to her head, “Of course. We will just have to see.”

“Be good to your mother lads. I’ll visit when I can” Harwin spoke to the boys. “But that may be some time”

(Y/N) watched as Jace ignored the man, practically running to him and Rhaenyra.

“Jace.” Rhaenyra said softly, and (Y/N) gently ran his fingers through his son’s hair. Harwin approached the three, four counting Joffrey asleep in his mother’s arms.

“I will return.” Harwin promised, taking Jace’s chin in between his fingers to force the boy to look at him. “I promise.”

He looked to (Y/N), who bit his tongue not trusting his voice enough to speak. (Y/N) just stared at the knight, hoping his expression would convey all the emotion he seemed unable to be able to put into words. Whatever Harwin saw in the prince’s face seemed enough for the man as he turned to Rhaenyra.

He bent down, pressing a kiss to Joffrey’s forehead. “I will be a stranger when we meet again.”

He looked up, making eye contact with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra’s eyes were watering, and she bit her lip as the knight looked at her. Harwin sighed, “Princess.”

He turned to (Y/N), “My Prince.”

Harwin gathered his things walking out of the room. (Y/N) felt Jace lunged forward, and the boy escaped his grasp before the man had a chance to stop him. (Y/N) ran after him, Rhaenyra following close behind. Luke seemed almost indifferent to the whole event watching everything from his place on the floor.

Jace stopped just outside the door, stepping away from both his parents as they approached.

“We will exchange letters by raven won’t that be fun?” Rhaenyra said in an obvious attempt of an olive branch.

“Is Harwin Strong my father?” (Y/N) tensed at Jace’s question. “Are the rumors true, am I a bastard?”

“No.” (Y/N) said, grabbing the boy’s shoulder. “You are a Targaryen and a Royce, what they say does not matter.”

He kissed his son’s forehead, and Rhaenyra ushered Jace into the room. She turned to (Y/N), watching him as he looked down the now empty hallway. She opened her mouth to speak but (Y/N) cut her off.

“I am going to the yard.”

Rhaenyra watched as her husband stormed off, sighing and taking Joffrey back inside the room.

She found (Y/N) hours later, he had upgraded from abusing the straw men of his youth to abusing the poor knights in the yard. She watched him knock down two knights before approaching. The third knight that (Y/N) had taken an interest in paused at the sight of the princess allowing (Y/N) to knock him to the ground.

“A word?” Rhaenyra said, and (Y/N) paused, turning to face his wife. Breathing heavily the Lord of Runestone walked over to her. “We’re finished here, we're leaving.”

(Y/N) furrowed his eyebrows,“What of your offer? Jace and Helaena?”

“I have been undermined and made a spectacle. They whisper about us in the corridors.” Rhaenyra said, “Well, let’s leave them to it.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Dragonstone or Runestone?”

“Dragonstone.” Rhaenyra said, and (Y/N) nodded again. It would’ve been easier for the prince to have his family at Runestone, so that he did not have to leave them to check on the castle and its holdings, but Runestone had enough trouble holding Vermithor. (Y/N) doubted it could hold four, five when Joffery’s egg hatched, dragons. “We should’ve left years ago.”

Rhaenyra turned to leave.

“What of your position?” (Y/N) asked, and Rhaenyra paused, turning to him. “We have always known if you were absent from court she would pour her poison in your father’s ear.”

“Our absence is necessary if we wish to spare our boys more pain.” Rhaenyra said, smiling at her husband before walking back into the keep.

(Y/N) smiled as he watched her walk away.

---

Translations -

Ñuha jorrāelagon - My love

#x male reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x male reader #x reader #x y/n #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x male reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #harwin strong #hotd x reader #hold x male reader #hariwn strong x male reader #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon #why is joffrey's name the same idk plot reasons #also it is technically a name used in the vale so

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attapullman · 10 months ago

Text

So Hold Me Close and Say Three Words | bungalow!Robert "Bob" Floyd

PART OF THE BIG WINDOWS, SMALL KITCHEN UNIVERSE

Summary: There's only one thing that can get your boyfriend's mind off the horrible popcorn ceiling.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ as always, cockwarming, pet name Honey, title is from McFly's "All About You"

A Note From Mo: Welcome to bungalow!Bob! A dash of acts of service, a sprinkle of a condescension kink, and a whole lot of extremely loving boyfriend. Live-in boyfriend Bob is my biggest indulgence so no one look at me, I'm fragile.

He’s been planted in the big easy chair all morning, staring up at the last project on his list before the kitchen, and sighing. Dragging long fingers through wild hair as his eyes take in the wide expanse of the living room.

His arch nemesis: the popcorn ceiling.

The little dipples and spikes of joint compound taunt him daily. A major contrast to the rest of the bungalow, all smooth ceilings with stunning walnut beams - one major selling point of the property. And while the previous owner did a great job with the addition bringing in natural light with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the backyard, he was off his rocker for choosing popcorn ceilings.

Bob hasn’t hate anyone more than the previous owner. Well, maybe the neighbor across the street who stops by a little too much.

Before he moved in, Bob barely noticed any features of the sweet green bungalow you owned. The majority of his time here was spent in the bedroom between your thighs. But the switch flipped that first weekend after he moved his shoebox apartment in. Lounging on the sectional, girl on his chest, book in hand, and one look up at the world’s ugliest ceiling.

He had to fix it. You deserve your dream house and it was his mission to give it to you.

The line between his brows is adorable as he mutters something rude at the drywall.

“Bobby, babe, it’s just a ceiling.”

Those wide cornflower blue eyes blink at you, as if noticing for the first time you’re also sitting in the sun-drenched living room enjoying your coffee.

“It’s an ugly ceiling.”

You can’t help but giggle at the disgust in his tone. “It’s not that bad, I don’t notice.”

Your sweet boyfriend just rolls his eyes and leans back, side-eyeing the offending design choice.

Peering over the edge of your mug, you admire the way the mid-morning sunlight streams through his hair, highlighting it copper. His sweats hang low on his hips, underwear forgotten, black shirt slightly too small with how much he’s filled out with all the manual labor fixing up the house.

While not the main reason you asked him to move in, pajama Robert Floyd is a high perk of the situation.

The scowl on his face isn’t quite as endearing. Your heart hurts knowing how frustrated he is by the ceiling. He loves you. He loves this house. It’s too much pressure on him wanting to make it perfect.

Ever since he permanently parked his truck in the driveway, Bobby’s been nothing but generous. He sees the charm and coziness of the bungalow, but also the repairs and fixes you’re too busy for. His entire leave was spent weeding the backyard, and your skin still heats remembering his muscles bulging after carrying the pile of boxes from the garage to the attic.

While you won’t satiate your boyfriend by allowing him to drop cloth the living room and scrape every dimple of drywall off the ceiling today, you do have a better idea for getting Bob’s mind off his dreaded enemy.

His eyes widen as you stand up, admiring the way your body stretches in your cozy waffle knit robe before heading through to the kitchen. Listens to you fiddle with dishes before passing him again to the bedroom. Too far away to hear, he sinks back into the leather armchair, allowing his body to meld to the material while frustration sits low in his gut.

The birds at the feeder chirp away before you return. Toes against hardwood catch his attention, and Bob’s head turns toward the hallway, mouth dropping open.

You’re walking toward him in just his threadbare Naval academy shirt. The shirt you put on the first time you stayed the night. The shirt you were wearing when he last came home from deployment and you shyly asked him to move in. His favorite shirt.

“H-honey…” It’s an unfinished sentence as he takes in how the sunlight illuminates you from behind, baring the silhouette of your figure inside his shirt.

A smile dances on your lips as you come closer, dropping something on the end table with a soft tink. A noise lost as you straddle Bobby’s thighs, his fingers racing to touch as much of you as quickly as possible. Groaning when he realizes that the shirt is all you have on, the soft flesh of your ass swallowed by his big hands.

Your fingers smooth their way up his torso, gliding over the dark fabric until the long expanse of his neck pulses beneath your ministrations. Eventually curling into his hair, combing it back into place as he gazes at you earnestly. Within moments the two of you so deeply tangled it would take twice as long to separate.

Eyes filled with nothing but love, your lips quirk sweetly before pressing a kiss to his. Allowing it to linger before pulling away to explain. “I appreciate how much work you’re putting into the house, but I don’t want you to stress. Can I help you relax?”

In place of a response, he groans and pulls you tighter to him, relishing the feel of your skin.

“Is that a yes?” Your laugh fades as he captures your mouth in a soft kiss. The sunlight highlighting him as you gaze lovingly into his oceanic eyes. The same color as the La Jolla print you bought last summer that he just hung up.

Bob is more than happy to spend the rest of the morning making out. Enjoying the soft warmth of you beneath his hands and the taste of your tongue. The morning sun setting the mood while the birds on the porch sing the soundtrack. It was perfect for him.

Well…perfect until you ran your thumb down the outline of his cock and breathed the most sinful words against his jaw.

“Actually, I was thinking I could keep your cock warm?”

His moan is more of a whine as he immediately swallows your tongue, so grateful for this Saturday morning surprise. Raises his hips as you drag his sweats down, releasing his slowly hardening cock into the space between you, already wet at the tip.

“Honey - ah, that feels s’good,” he interrupts himself as your hand wraps around him,”-but we should prep you. Don’t want to hurt you, honey bear.”

Your face splits into a gentle grin, so enamored by the way he takes care of you even when he’s hotly thrusting his hips into your fist. A grin that pops in surprise when his fingers trace along your folds, appreciating the arousal dripping over your thighs.

It’s so hot that you only wear his shirt without panties.

His rough thumb slips along your clit, working its way in soft circles. It’s a treat the way your nipples harden against his shirt, level with his eyes as your mouth falls open with sounds only for him. He can’t wait to watch you fall apart stretched out on his cock.

A hand on his wrist makes him pause, your half-lidded eyes finding his. You give him a sly smile as you lean forward to the end table. “Don’t need to, you got me nice and open last night, remember?”

As visions of pounding you face down in the bed only hours before run before his eyes, his mouth opens to protest. He’s fully aware of how big he is and how tight you are.

You press your finger to his lips as you raise what you’d grabbed in the bedroom. “A little of this and we’re good, promise.”

The lube bottle slips between your fingers, applying the slick substance along his shaft as you press soothing pecks along his temple.

“Can’t wait to be full of you, Bobby.” His fingers dig into your skin. Your dirty mouth will be the end of him. Especially with how your eyes burn into his while you raise up on your knees, lining up his obscenely shiny cock with your dripping slit.

“You sure you can take all of me, Honey?”

His gaze meets yours with that steely hint of condescension right as his tip breeches your folds, your pathetic nod spurring the beginning of your descent.

The popcorn ceiling is the last thing on his mind as your velvet insides take him in. The snug fit of you mixed with the heady scent of your sweat has him dizzy, wrapping his strong arms around you to maintain control. It’s hard to think straight when you take every inch of him so beautifully, the lube assisting your efforts.

“Almost there, so close,” Bob breathes against your lips, the hair of his pelvis beginning to brush against your clit. You’re at capacity and there’s still more. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, every time you think you’ve taken all of him, there’s always more.

Breath caught in your chest, his lips swallow your moan as you finally take him to the hilt, hips pressed fully together in their loving embrace. You’re so full, too full, deliciously full. His warm hand along your back soothes you, massaging while gritting himself against how good it feels.

You laugh through the consuming fullness. “This is supposed to be relaxing you, sorry.”

“Hon, never apologize for making me feel this good. This is exactly what I needed.”

Despite the tense way he’s holding his jaw, he looks content. Soft sapphire eyes shining with admiration, sandy hair swept off his forehead, a soft bead of perspiration trailing down his neck as he fights off the need to thrust. You cradle his jaw between your fingers, loving the way he keens beneath your touch. He’s out of a fairytale.

“I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Time stands still - the melody of the birds fading into the sun-drenched morning - as you bask in the feel of each other. Connected as one in the soft leather of his favorite chair. Soothing fingers trail up your back beneath his shirt, skimming the edges of your breasts, as your own trace the defined planes of his features.

“I just want your house to be perfect. You deserve perfect things.” He burrows his face in the crook of your neck, placing a delicate kiss as he feels your satin walls contract around him.

You whisper against his hair. “It’s our house.”

Actions replace words as his hands travel up your shirt, crossing over your back as he holds you to him, dragging his lips over each spot of skin available. Skin warmed by sun is covered in adoration.

You shift, the pulsing of his shaft dizzying, as the acts of his love pepper your cheeks, your jaw, your sensitive neck. You love him more than words could ever express.

Love you. Love you so, so much.

When your foreheads finally rest against each other, antsy with arousal and admiration, Bob finally can’t help himself. A soft thrust up into your dripping center, the most delicious treat. The desperate whimper you release against his cheek only spurs him on, shifting his hips back once more only to sink fully into the home of your body.

“I think I’m done with cockwarming,” you admit with a breathless smirk as his hips buck into yours once again.

Your horny boyfriend has never heard more beautiful words.

Strong hands grip your thighs as he pushes himself up to stand, your legs clenching around his lithe waist as your sense of gravity disappears. The shock instantly replaced by the growing hunger consuming you as he walks to the bedroom, still buried deep in you.

“Ugh, stop showing off. You know I think it’s so hot you can carry me mid-sex.”

Bob pauses in the hallway, leaning back to hold your gaze. “Maybe that’s why I keep doing it.”That cobalt steel back in place. “Now be a good girl and let me take you to bed.”

taglist: @bella-maria2018 @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @midnightmagpiemama @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld @primroseluna @hauntedduckdefendor @unpretty-reader @erospecies @pinkdaisies9285 @spinning-away @livingoutsidethetardis

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vifilms · 11 months ago

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we could go there | a. anderson

tags: eighteen+, sexual innuendoes, mentions of sex, jealousy, ow*n, beware i'm an ow*n hater 'nd i display that hatred here, two gays in love, fem!reader, fluff city, get a snack bc this is the longest fic i've ever posted.

a/n. hi guys. it's ray, again. as i begin to roll out content slowly, i want to make it clear, i fully support palestine. anyone who consumes my content, i strongly encourage to do the same. i have no patience for ignorance. below are links to take a look at. educate yourself, donate where you can, and reblog if you can't. hopefully you guys like this one, it's been a labor of love and a bit different than what i normally post. anyways, with love as always ♡

wc. 9k

DO NOT BUY TLOU, FUCK NEIL DRUCKMANN + EDUCATE YOURSELF + DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE + DONATE TO PALESTINE.

divider creds — @cafekitsune

Owen could not have been this fucking stupid. Practically trying to piss all over Abby as if she were something to own, some damn property to own, as if she wasn’t an actual person with feelings who could make her own decisions. The man only thought with his dick and the ugly green head growing endlessly. He only thought of what he wanted – never what she needs.

Meaning the only thought bouncing in your mind? Punching his crooked jaw.

To put it simply, Owen was not managing the breakup well by any means. It had been three months and still Owen continued to grab onto Abby like a leech. For this exact reason, you told Abby you wanted to keep whatever was happening between you away from prying eyes. Everything with Abby was still new, and you did not want to rush it. Ruin it even. Really, you wanted to stay in this small, secure bubble with her for the longest you could.

So, you kept it this way.

It was nice when it was just the two of you. Abby always likes to cook for you after a long week. Friday nights ending with her, a bottle of red on the dining room table, her cuddled up to your side. It surprised you how willing she was to be available for you each week, only missing one Friday due to a nasty cold. There were no prying eyes, no preconceived judgement – absolutely no expectations. Just you and those gorgeous blue eyes you couldn’t help but fall deeper for. With a soft familiar shine, every word she spoke dripped like pure honey all over your heart, making it brand new again.

You didn’t know what sweet was until her.

Never been more sure of it until now.

As if there was never an ache to be had, a heart broken – she seemed to seamlessly mend every broken piece of you.

You were so soft on her, and the Friday night dates only helped the cause. There wasn’t a damn thing you could do to help yourself from falling for her. Even when your knee jerk reaction is to run in the opposite direction, your feet stay glued to the ground. Kind words and services of affection gripped your heart with an iron fist and somehow, she managed not to break it.

You loved it. You were terrified. You want to run into her arms and never let go.

But of course, the man was the complication. The retched, jealous ex-boyfriend who could not imagine her being with a woman when he was right there. Owen always seemed to try and worm his way whenever he was around the two of you. Abby knew, just as well as you did, he wouldn’t be able to stomach you two together. So, she tried to keep it concealed for his sake and she wants to protect you. Owen is her loose end to tie; the last thing she wants is you in the middle of it.

Especially when things were going so well with you. Abby really had not expected to move on so fast, or at least find someone as amazing as you so soon, but you were right under her nose the whole time. She felt like an idiot for never recognizing it, but she thought better late than never, right? It’s overwhelming guilt consuming her, telling her it’s wrong to feel this happy so soon, but there’s no choice but to shove it down.

If she wants to be happy, pretend like the stress of Owen’s instigations aren’t getting to her, she needs to shove.

So, Abby shoves.

The stoic-blonde tries her best to hide what you two had from the rest of the group. Not until she dealt with her baby of an ex-boyfriend and his unresolved feelings. She just wanted to give him enough space to move on, but now it would be impossible.

She knew it and you did too. To Owen, it had been the most obvious. You were almost certain he was starting to put the two pieces together.

God was he being even more insufferable than ever.

It was nauseating you the way he was acting. He needed to be talking to Abby, sitting by Abby, touching Abby. Abby. Abby. Abby. The ignorant man’s mind focused on one thing, and it was his ex-girlfriend. Deep in his bones he believed there was still truly a shot and part of you thought there was. She did not like girls, or you, as much as she thought she did. She kept him around, never refusing what he wanted, and the two of you were not official.

You told yourself so many times, lies of assurance turned into fact in your mind, masking what the truth actually is.

Truly, there’s little to do.

Abby did not really owe you a damn thing.

Sure, she was available for you and those nights were everything to you. Most of them spent together ending with her fucking you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

You’re just a need for her to fill. A quick fuck, that’s all you are.

Persistent as ever, thoughts of doubt seemed to nag and linger throughout your head.

You’re not good enough for her.

She’ll run back to him.

Abby just wants your body, not you.

Everything had an expiration date and possibly, you need to start facing the harsh reality, she could not possibly be ready for all of this. Although, the possibility of her still hung up over Owen filled you up entirely with disdain.

What else were you supposed to think? Abby refused to cut ties; she wants to keep the two of you a secret. Even if she had been stuck to your side like glue all night, it did not stop the anxious feeling rumbling in the pit of your stomach.

You craved for more, but it could be possible you were just the building block until she found the next person to move onto. It’s not like Owen and her were some short-term fling. They had been together for years and clearly, he thought it would be for the long haul. He knew her in ways you couldn’t. The pair had been friends since they were kids. He gave her the support she needed when she lost her dad.

You could even understand how difficult it would be to give up someone like that, even if it was Owen. You would never blame her for not being able to let go of it. Never would you be able to forgive yourself if you held her to this crazy expectation, just like Owen did. So, you tried to hide for both of your sakes. It’s been easier in your relationship with Abby in the beginning. When it was new and fun, it went unnoticed.

But it clearly written all over the two of you tonight.

You were too drunk and even if Owen’s eyes were on the two of you, all you saw was her. Everyone was busy roasting marshmallows, still cool enough in beginning of spring, fire crackling as you watched it glow Abby’s features.

Her freckled cheeks and ivory skin sporting an orange hue and you were a little too obsessed with it.

She’s so beautiful. All you can think about is pressing your lips against hers, claiming her in front of everyone. It’s all you want.

But your own insecurity gets the best of you and somehow, it’s possible to dig down deep, suppressing the urge.

So, you try to place your focus elsewhere.

Even if being here with Abby, side by side, was a bad idea. She shoved her pussy in your face for consolation. You come with her, a party Owen would be at, and you finally get to eat her pussy out which you took full advantage of prior to arriving.

Ellie thought it would be important for the gang to get together before spring break rolled in and you had agreed along with Abby. Thankfully, Owen had shown up late and the only spot available to him was on singular chair across from where you were snuggled up with Abby on a two-seat bench.

Your hand on her thigh as you told her something dumb, silly even, but the smile on her burned so bright – you couldn’t help it. Any day of the week, it’s all you want. To see her happy, beaming. It just so happened to be your luck she did it often with you. She might’ve been cautious with Owen around, especially when it came to her proximity with you.

You’d eaten her out on your bed, before you rode in the passenger side of her jeep. Fuck, did you love how happy she looked, how relaxed she’d seemed. Abby didn’t tell you, but Owen had never even offered to do that before. The fact you had been begging for it unprompted had her heart pumping. Delicate hands running over her thick thighs as she let you spread them out wide before you made yourself comfortable between them.

She was replaying it over in her mind as she smiled wide at you. Abby could listen to you talk about whatever, forever. You made her feel good, didn’t ask her anything in return, but she would absolutely return the favor. Maybe by the end of the night, even.

It’s moments like these, making you believe this could be something special. Even convincing you Abby would want this with you, to be your girlfriend. For her to be yours seemed like a fever dream, but the more time you spent with her, you couldn’t deny it’s all you wanted. You were just terrified she couldn’t possibly want to be like this with you.

The uncertainty was a bitch and you felt like you were choking on it.

“Where’d you go, sweet girl?” Abby’s thumb smoothed over your chin. She wants to pull you in closer, claim you in front of everyone, but she doesn’t want to deal with the heat from Owen. Abby is fully capable of handling him, yet she can’t find it within herself to subject you to it.

It’s the last thing you deserve, not when you’ve been anything but perfect to her.

She tries to pretend the fear isn’t there as her throat bobs, attempting to swallow it down.

“Just thinking about…someone.” You drew out with a smirk on your face.

“Someone, hmm? Is a certain blonde the someone? Is she in the room with us?” Abby looks around in faux cluelessness. You have no choice but to laugh as she roasts two marshmallows for the two of you in one of her large hands.

“She might be, but she’s being silly right now. I’m not so sure anymore.” You teased, a smirk pulling at your lips. Abby likes how it feels to have your hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth. She’s thankful for the fuzzy, thick blanket placed over you both, concealing unwanted eyes from the affection.

The chilly, midnight air bites into your skin, it’s dropping more quickly than you anticipated but you’ll live.

Abby still feels the rapid beating of her heart, it’s deep in her soul. She wonders if you can feel it too. She takes a moment to look at you, really let her gaze fall on you and she knows how badly she’s fallen. It feels obvious, in the way her blue eyes are glossed over in love, the way she offered to roast your marshmallow for you, the way she insisted on sitting next to you whenever you were making your way over to the other bench with Jesse. She takes note of the black hoodie you’re wearing, the one you stole from her closet, her cheeks are crimson, but she’ll blame it on the cold if anyone asks.

Yeah, it’s the cold making her heart skip a beat.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” Abby asks again, taking note of your body shivering before her.

“I-I’m fine, Abs. Promise?” But you weren’t. Your body was shivering, and you couldn’t speak without your teeth chattering.

“Oh yeah. You’re fine, right?” Abby taunts.

“Abby…please. Not right now.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what.”

“Maybe you should spell it out for me.”

“Now, you’re just being mean, Abs.” You begged, pleaded with her to let this go. You didn’t need another reason for him to judge either of you. The two of you already had been more affectionate than you wanted to be in front of Owen.

“Oh, I’m the mean one?” She tilted her head cockily, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. Dangerously leaning into you as her eyes took a quick glance at your lips. Forbidden fruit she could only have in the safety of your apartment or hers. Made her full warm, her mind wondering about how you made her feel. All the things you’d done to her, how you always picked up when she called, how you seemed to know what to say and at the right times.

It’s not fair.

“Tonight, you are.” You replied, trying to see if there was another conversation to escape into, but everyone was engaged in conversation, except for Owen. He was looking right at you, furrowed eyebrows and jaw clenching as he took Abby’s undivided attention directed towards you.

“He’s looking right at us, Abby. You guard dog looks like he wants to choke me out.” You turned towards her muscular frame, only to find she has leaned in even more. God, she was trying to torture you. Infinitely so.

“Well, he’ll have to get in line.” Abby teased, dropping a wink that made you feel hot in the bitter cold.

“Baby, you’re killing me.” You lightly pushed her, laying your head against her shoulder.

“Calling me baby in public? Are you trying to torture me…baby?” Abby whispered in your ear as she maneuvered her free hand underneath the blanket and interlocking with yours. She kept it against her thigh, but it was her turn to rub her thumb against your skin.

“No can even hear us.”

“Would you care even if they could?” You paused for a moment as you contemplated.

Would you truly? Owen’s reaction wouldn’t be the best, but it would take the relief off your shoulders. Honestly, you would have been nervous if Abby was truly serious about this.

About you, but she’s not.

“You’re holding my hand, Abby.” You sighed, content with her warm fingers heating up your freezing ones.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking doing more than just holding your hand.” Abby rested her head against yours, “But I’ll settle for this, at least for right now.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re pretty much all I think about these days, especially after you ate me out this afternoon.” You feel the heat even in the freezing cold, taking the sharp remark right off your tongue.

She was smirking wildly at her accomplishment, until she noticed the glare being sent her way.

Abby stares at Owen and she can tell how angry he looks, but she knows better than anyone he’s all bark and no bite. He won’t say anything to her right now, not until she’s alone. He doesn’t want you around when he says what he needs to.

Abby knows what he wishes to tell her. It’s been on the tip of Owen’s tongue after the breakup, but it’s a little too late. She doesn’t care to hear how sorry he is. It’s holding no weight. He only wants to fix things once he’s turned her into an afterthought. It makes her feel sick, unwanted even.

She feels none of those things when she’s with you. All the doubt, self-hatred, and regret piles in the back of her throat when she thinks about Owen. His presence no longer provides her with comfort and safety. All she sees is the blood on his hands and it fuels her with rage. She shouldn’t feel this way. Abby doesn’t want to, so she drowns herself in you.

Abby can’t feed into his delusion anymore; she knows she can’t. Not if she wants to keep you around and keep you happy.

Owen knows his limits. Abby will never talk to him if he interrupts her while she’s preoccupied with you, she’ll be out for his neck if he tries anything, the look she was giving told him that.

“Would you just stop being stubborn and take my jacket?” Abby speaks quietly. She removes the marshmallows from the pit of the fire, and you grab the graham crackers and the chocolate with your free hand.

Purposefully, you ignored her comment.

“You know, this would be easier if you let go of my hand.”

“Not going to happen, gorgeous.” Abby chuckled as she watched you struggling to remove the graham cracker from the plastic encasing. She takes in the way your eyebrow furrows in concentration, trying to get this god-awful plastic away from the treasure. Plump lips pouting, practically begging for assistance.

“Abbbyyyyyy.” You grunt, clearly frustrated with the damn crackers.

“Do you want my help, baby?” She asks innocently, but there’s nothing innocent about her voice. It makes you want to fuck her right in front of everyone. Especially with Owen watching. Yeah, fuck him. Why did you have to suffer for his shortcomings? Clearly, he wasn’t good enough for her, but you would be. You’d treat her like she fucking deserves. In your bones, deep in your very being, you would never make her feel like Owen did.

She’s perfect in your eyes. So precious and joyful, she made you feel good, and you hoped you did the same for her. Carefully, she set the marshmallows she’d be holding on the skewers and placed them carefully in your lap.

“Give it here, baby.” Abby’s delicious, big palm inviting you to place the bag in her hand and you did. It shouldn’t have been as sinful as it is, but she barred her teeth on the seam, creating a tear, placing the crackers on her lap. Immediately, Abby rested her head against yours once again. It made your heart skip a beat; how close she wants to be with you tonight.

Secretly, it’d been kind of an unspoken agreement when she was with Owen. Abby didn’t like public affection, never really had been into it. Made her feel nauseous at the thought. So, Owen stopped trying and because of it you’d make a point to never push more than she was ready for. But making her come on your tongue three times before you left the coziness of your apartment brought it out of her. Somehow, you had managed to subdue her into a needy, whining little girl who needed your touch, or she just might just die right then and there.

It's what you told yourself. You weren’t quite sure what else to believe.

Abby knew the truth; she’d been hiding tucking it away for safe keeping. She could let you know when she was ready, but right now, mindlessly she let herself lean into your body. With an open heart, Abby allows herself to feel the warmth and comfort only you could provide. The soft feeling in her heart she’d never felt with anyone else.

Silently, you brought your eyes to connect with Dina’s before she dropped a not-so-subtle wink.

Dina was the one who convinced you to even go for it in the first place with Abby. You really didn’t want to pick on the dead carcass of her fall out with Owen, but it was clear to everyone just how much Abby cared for you. Dina was sure the braided blonde didn’t even know it herself at the time, but anyone with eyes could see.

All of it had been so easy, being with her was the most natural thing in the world. This right here; she’s the blueprint for what it’s supposed to be like. It helps she’s sweet on you, more than anyone has ever been. You wish you could look at her right now. The beanie was so goddamn cute on her. She looked too good with her bomber jacket, the one she offered to you insistently. Repeatedly because she knew how damn cold you are. But you’d prefer her cuddled up into your side — her body heat felt better than any coat could.

“Do you have the chocolate?” Abby asks sweetly and you hand it to her, and she breaks up a handful of bars as she places on top of the the graham crackers she pulled out of the bag. “Can you?” She lets the end of her sentence drag off, but you know exactly what she needs.

You lift your head from her shoulder, and she pouts at the disconnect.

“Why’d you move?” She brings her hand closer to her inner thigh and it’s when you feel the bulge concealed beneath her trousers. You don’t say anything — you don’t want to spoil the fun she clearly has planned. Although, it makes you feel heated. The intention behind it sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps spreading all over your skin.

“You’re being stubborn, Abs.” You huffed trying to pull your hand away, but her grip tightens.

Got it. Better not poke the bear.

“Just place it right there. I’ll remove it from the skew.” You listen to her, picking up the first one and placing it delicately on top of the chocolate, and you slowly pull it away as Abby looks you dead in the eye. Making s’mores feels more sensual than it should be, but maybe just being around her makes you feel this way.

It’s just her making the tingling feeling between your thighs reignite.

Abby’s hands are sticky from the roasted pillow of sweet, white substance stuck around her fingers. Her heavy-lidded eyes, look down at her fingers before looking back at you. She seemed to be in a daze, thinking of something else. You could guess exactly what Abby was thinking of.

“I would ask you to clean it for me if we were alone, but this will have to do.” She slides her forefinger and middle in her mouth, and god, you’re imagining it. Your mouth wrapped around her thick fingers, tongue circling around it as if it was her cock fucking your mouth. It got her off just as much as you did.

She liked to have you like this, completely and utterly under her control.

Abby pulls off with a hardly subtle pop, her lips are moist and fuck, her fingers are incredibly wet. You can practically feel your cunt purring at her, the throbbing insatiable as you’re looking at your pretty girl like she’s a slab of meat to be butchered and slaughtered. Really, you can’t help it.

The sex isn’t just good. It’s fucking amazing. Stupidly obvious in the way it just makes sense with Abby. She’s reminding you of it, as she gestures for you to pick up the second skew. Sticky fingers getting caught on the marshmallow again, cleaning it off with her mouth again. Breathy, quiet, moan slips out before you can catch it and she’s smirking so loudly you want to kiss it off her deeply cocky face.

“Hm, guess I can’t blame you for getting all hot and bothered. I know how much you love my fingers. Especially when they’re inside you, huh? Just a little bit of déjà vu from last week.” Abby teased lightly.

“You’re going to pay for this.” Threatening the blonde beauty as you grabbed the finished s’more, and she grabbed the other one.

“Am I?” Abby’s voice dropping an octave lower than how she usually talks. Trying to do her best to bring out all the stops to do her best to effectively ruin you.

The answer to her question is left open in the air, the two of you silently finishing off your s’mores, her hand still in yours. Abby doesn’t want to let go. Even wants to hold your hand on top of the blanket, for everyone to see, but she doesn’t want anyone to ruin the moment. She’ll take for this now, but knowingly will push for more for later. When you’re ready for it. It’s still fresh, new and she needs to learn to be patient even if it’s the last thing she wants to do.

This time Abby is leaning her head on your shoulder. She takes in your sweet sent, pine mixed with vanilla, and it intoxicates her. Owen is finally engaged somewhere else besides her. It’s a relief. To not feel his accusatory eyes on her. Abby doesn’t want to feel guilty about her affection towards you. You’re too lovely for this to be seen as anything but beautiful.

She won’t let anyone take this away from either one of you.

You engage in conversation with Ellie and Dina, they’re to the left of you where you and Abby are sat. Dina’s, making you laugh about something stupid Ellie did earlier this week. Ellie claims it’s not nearly as stupid as Dina makes it out to be, which only sends you and Dina through a tailspin.

It obviously was just as idiotic as it sounds, but what Dina says next brings Abby to full attention.

“Hey, were you going to call Leah back? She sounds pretty interested in seeing you.” Dina questions you, a smirk playing at her lips, and it makes you want to scream.

Fuck.

Dirty fucking Dina.

She played it off as coy, maybe Abby wouldn’t question Dina’s intentions, but she sure as hell would give yours a second thought. Ellie let a small chuckle, earning a death glare from Abby. It was painfully obvious to the couple the feelings you felt towards one another, but neither of you took steps towards making it official.

“Leah?” Abby questions, her grip on your hand tightens, afraid if she eased up, you might slip.

“Y-Yeah, just a girl I met at the work event I told you about.” You let out, trying to land the blow gently but it already had made its impact with Abby. There was nothing gentle about the knife she felt in her heart.

Abby’s jaw clenches too many times for you to count, her grip is cruel, and she won’t meet your eyes. She suddenly finds the flames in front of her incredibly interesting. Ember reflects from Abby’s eyes, they’re still blue, but icy as you try to find them, but she refuses.

You want to tell her it’s innocent. It doesn’t mean anything, and it really doesn’t. You felt stupidly insecure that night. Pleading Abby to come with you, but it was Owen’s birthday dinner, and she couldn’t make it. Felt like a horrible slap in the face for her to pick him over you even after the breakup. One cocktail turned into five and before you knew it, you put your number into a pretty girl’s phone. She danced with you, she flirted, and it felt nice to be someone’s priority, their full attention seated with you.

The night ended with a sweet kiss on the lips, a promise she would text, and you would call her. Leah made good on her promise, and you found yourself falling incredibly short of yours. Abby came over around midnight, it felt a punch to the gut to make time for you now but not before. Yet, you let her in even after how miserable and alone her actions made you feel.

All you see is her. Her lips and the voice you love. She makes the anger melt away as if she wasn’t the one to instigate it in the first place.

She apologizes for not taking you up on the offer. Her puppy eyes pleading for forgiveness. She has a tote full of goods which allow her to breach past your door. Chocolate covered strawberries, a bottle of your favorite red wine, the ingredients for your favorite dinner, and tempting lips you’ll know will have their way with you by the end of the night. Abby knows just as well as you do, both of you are fucked.

It’s the first time she stays over at your place, and it feels solidified. This could all end up in flames, with both of you burned, but somehow it feels worth the risk. The light glistens through the bedroom window as it shines on her eyes, the blue standing out as she looks on your sleeping form. Black sheet concealing your body from her. Then it’s almost like you know she’s watching you and your eyes open meeting hers.

Smiling softly, it reaches your eyes, and your head nuzzles into her chest, sighing contently. Before, your brain could excuse how you felt, but after that night, it had changed. You realized just how much Abby had wormed her way into your heart, into your soul – you didn’t wish for her to leave.

But it still didn’t negate what you felt, the fear of losing her to someone she might still be in love with. Yeah, so she did feel remorseful for picking him over you, it didn’t mean she still didn’t care about him. It was Abby – of course she did. Everything was still so new, there wasn’t enough foundation to land on, for either of you to be sure. You had to hope it was strong enough to support the two of you.

You felt lonely, and Abby wasn’t there to give you the comfort you needed so this was your way of lashing out without speaking to her about it. It was small, but the thought echoed and occupied all the space in your brain.

She’ll leave you for a man, they always do. How could this be any different?

Past experiences drawing the conclusion for you, instead of actually speaking with her about how you felt, leaving Dina to air out your dirty laundry.

Dina kept talking, but she changed the subject. Still, didn’t stop how tense Abby is. She refused to notice anyone, her focus trained on the flames in front of her, anger brewing beneath the surface. You were holding onto the fact she hadn’t let go of your hand. Maybe you could settle your strong headed, burly bear.

You’d seen a couple times just how protective she could be over you. The fact you were possibly entertaining someone else, besides her, stung.

Everyone else had funneled inside, but Abby stayed by your side. She still wouldn’t look at you. She was as stoic as you’d ever seen her. She still wouldn’t keep her eyes off the fire, it was dying out and it felt like there wasn’t much you could do but watch it with her.

Owen would get exactly what he wanted. Maybe the two of you would never even become a thing because of your fatal case of loneliness. It made you nauseous. He didn’t deserve her, but it seems neither did you.

“So, who’s this Leah?” Abby broke the silence, her voice cracking in the process. “A-And why didn’t you tell me about her?”

You bite on your bottom lip, tugging it so carelessly you could taste the iron.

“It’s not important. She’s not important.” You reassure, but it doesn’t offer Abby much comfort.

“Obviously she’s important enough for Dina to know about her and not me.” Abby bites, her tone colder than it ever has been directed towards you.

“It’s not what you think, Abs.” You pause, not wanting to lie to her. You can see the self-doubt swimming in her eyes, and you need to do your best and reassure her, nothing is going on. “It was before, you know, that night.”

“So, you were seeing her? Both of us at the same time.” She thinks it’s not even a question. She states it as if there is nothing to be found but truth. It feels like there is a blade in Abby’s back, one you put there yourself, but now she’s only feeling the wound.

“No, baby, will you just let me explain?” Abby nods, allowing you to continue.

This won’t break everything will it? You should have told her. It really was stupid not to, silently cursing at yourself.

You’re going to kill Dina for exposing you like this. Fuck. Damn the red wine and her loose lips.

“The night we were fighting about you coming as my plus one or going to Owen’s dinner? Do you remember that?” She nodded her head, waiting for you to continue. “Well, I sort of, met someone the same night. She gave me her number and we kissed.”

“Huh.” It was more bitter than contempt. Rage? You weren’t sure.

“You’re mad.” Abby’s jaw clenched; her grip was tight again. “I’m sorry, okay? In my head, you had abandoned me for him. I was lonely and hurt. I just wanted you there with me, yet you went with him, and it felt nice to have someone’s attention. It was stupid. I only did it because I felt like I didn’t have yours.”

“Did, um, you ever see her after that?” Abby looked at you, finally. Her eyes begging for the answer she needed. Preparing for the worst but found herself hoping for the best.

“Abby?” You tilted your head to the side.

“What?”

“Do you really think I would?”

“I don’t know. I thought I was the only girl you were kissing.”

“Well…we do a little more than kiss.” You teased lightly, a smirk on your face.

“Stop being cute right now, it’s not fair.” The blonde pouts, upset she couldn’t stay upset. “I deserve to be angry right now.”

“Do you?” You leaned in closer, your breath kissing Abby’s face. “Last time I checked, I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Baby.” Abby whines, her frustration wasn’t holding. It never really did, but you did have a point. Neither of you had made this official, but Abby would argue it sure did feel like it.

“Look, I know we decided to keep things just been us, not really label it, because of your messy breakup with Owen. We were still trying to figure out what this was, and it was new and terrifying for you.” Your free hand found purchase on the end of her braid, tugging at the open strands, your thumb smoothing over it.

“I respected your decision and I’ve kept this between us. I mean, our friends do have eyes and it’s not like we’re exactly doing a good job of hiding it anymore.” You laughed softly and Abby was sporting a hint of a smile on her face.

“That night when I spent time with Leah, I let my insecurities get the best of me. All I could think about was you and Owen. I had convinced myself you were getting back together with him, and this is why you had ditched me. It’s not an excuse, I should have told you about it, but what else am I supposed to believe?”

You took a deep breath, trying to control your emotions. You didn’t want to break down in front of her, but someone had to start this conversation. Abby sure wouldn’t. If it made you the bad guy, so be it.

“Even now, he’s still a concern. He looked like his head was going to blow off from pure despite. We’re still hiding. I can’t just sit here and pretend I’m okay with this anymore. I deserve to be with someone who can hold me hand in front of our friends.” You sighed, pulling away from her entirely, stepping towards the flames. It was time for the two of you to come to an end. It’d be better for the two of you, before either of you gets too invested and someone ends up really hurt. Sick and wretched filling gnawing at your heart, telling you it is already a little too late for that.

You love her, but you love yourself a little more. It’s not her fault, but your past girlfriends always burned you because of the ex-boyfriend. Broken promises of a future together until they crawled their way back to where they put themselves, back in the closet. The shame of liking girls, you, too much for them to bear.

Ending the same, your heart beaten to a pulp before you stitch yourself together again.

Abby hasn’t disagreed with anything you’ve said, making you believe she still holds a torch for him. The single thought alone makes you feel nauseous. Just being a placeholder, whether it be for Owen or someone else.

She stayed fucking quiet, and it only pissed you off.

This is it, the final nail in the coffin.

“Abby, I think we should put a pin in this. I-I’m sorry. I know you’ve apologized since that night, but I can’t see past him. Not if this isn’t going to become more. I need more than this.” You confessed to her, continuing to walk away from a still silent Abby.

It wasn’t fair how much you cared for her, possibly even love. Finding yourself choking on it and she seemed to be doing just fine with the thought of never having it again.

Maybe she was still in love with him after all. How fucking pathetic does this make you?

Abby was stoic the rest of the night. Owen noticed the space between the two of you and tried to use it to the best of his abilities once everyone was sitting around the couch, watching a classic Christmas film. The rest of the group was adding commentary when considered necessary, stuffing their mouth full of chocolate goodies and kettle corn. Trying but failing, you couldn’t focus on the movie. Not one bit.

All you could think about is how quiet she became, hands stuffed in her pocket as she watched you end things and didn’t pipe in once. It was clear you overestimated your importance to her. A rebound. A steppingstone. An experiment. You hated all of it. You hated thinking about it. All your fears about her came true and now you’d have to pick up the pieces alone.

She would go back with Owen. She’d never consider you an actual option. You would give her the whole world if she asked, but that was just it, she hadn’t. She wouldn’t. Not in the entirety of the four months you spent together. Abby was always trying to protect his feelings, but never considering she was shattering yours into tiny little pieces.

Making yourself scarce to the kitchen, Owen’s cocky smile and Abby’s avoidance to meet you in the eyes was allowing yourself to drown in self-depreciation. You couldn’t stand it. So, you chose the most delicious vice you could think of – chocolate covered strawberries.

It would do for now, until your heartache subsides, allowing yourself to get a grip on it. You were halfway into your fourth one when she walked in, of course she would. Fucking hell.

Your eyes trained on the food in front of you as you took another bite.

Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her.

She let you stand there in the cold, like a pathetic, lonely loser practically begging her to say anything and she stuffed her big, lovely hands in her jacket pockets and stayed silent. Abby doesn’t care, her conscious won’t let her be the one who’s hurt you. All she wants is to make amends; she doesn’t want you.

The seasonal depression has its tight hold on you, and Abby unwillingness to catch you, fuck, it makes you want to punch her stupidly gorgeous face. Who gave her the right to make you feel this way? Painfully, you see in your peripherals her hands twitching by her sides, standing in front of the door, at least supplying a barrier from everyone but you can see the uneasiness in her.

But you do look at her.

You wish you hadn’t.

Abby isn’t moving besides her hands; she’s shed herself of the coat and she’s in a sweater you bought for her with a chain around her neck that you also had gifted her on her birthday. It’s not fair to you how cozy she looks, how much you want to escape into her arms and welcome the comfort she would offer in a heartbeat. Her body runs like a human furnace.

You crave for her to tell you everything is going to be alright; you want her to reassure you with her lips on your temple, you want to bury your face in the crook of her neck and focus on her heartbeat. You’re still so damn cold, even in this heated house. Your body craves her comfort more than you want to admit, it’s become second nature.

Her hair is falling past her shoulders, beanie has been abandoned. Abby combs her fingers through her hair, giving them something to do because she’s almost certain she’s going to faint from seeing your pretty eyes glossed over. You’re drowning in something sweet, no doubt due to the bitter taste Abby left in your mouth.

It makes you even more uneasy the two of you were supposed to share a bed tonight. After everything, you didn’t trust yourself around her. Not one bit. Even if you were hurt, the second she put her arm around you, all anger would be thrown at the window. You didn’t want her to drive this late, it wasn’t safe. The roads were beginning to ice over and Abby hates driving at night. The only other room big enough for two was Owen’s and the thought made you want to puke all over him.

She finally spoke up and you were strangely thankful for it. You weren’t sure where your thoughts would’ve gone, resentment growing with them.

“I know you probably won’t believe me but I’m sorry. I should have asked you how you were feeling about all of it.” Abby apologized, but she hadn’t moved an inch. “I just thought…” She left you hanging, basically prying your lips open for a response.

“What?”

“There hasn’t been anyone else for me, okay? I-I don’t want anyone else.” She looked around the room, trying to focus her attention on anything else but your undivided attention. Her palms were sweating as she wiped them on her sweatpants. “Can I tell you something without you totally making fun of me for it?”

“I would never make fun of you, Abby. Not like this.” You offer a gentle smile, encouraging her. She knows now what she should’ve done before – fight for you.

Abby thinks it’s why you’re avoiding looking at her. She can see the wanting in your eyes. If you’re not looking closely enough it drowns in disappointment, but it’s still there. Abby recognizes the look; it’s how she looks at you. Disappointment can’t be found, but her love for you can.

The most perfect girl for her. Fuck, she’d found a way to ruin it.

You’re really the only person who puts up with her day-to-day shit and you don’t complain. You’re you about it. Incredibly graceful, sort of hurts Abby’s cheeks because it makes her smile so damn much. She’s taken advantage of your kindness, and she needs to make sure she does everything in her power to make amends.

“It’s okay, Abby. Whatever happens, you always have a safe space with me.” Reassuring her while biting into another strawberry.

You’re still so sweet. Fuck, Abby wants to kiss you, hard.

“I really believed I was in love with Owen, I care about him. He was there for me when shit hit the fan. Sometimes, I feel like I owe him because of it.” Abby took a breather as she stepped forward, but you stayed sitting on countertop.

“It’s not fair to you and it is sort of my fault he hates you so much. I just want to protect you from it, but I haven’t done a very good job. It’s really embarrassing for me to admit this.” Abby sighed as she stood in front of you, her big frame standing between your spread legs, a snug spot for her to fit into.

You tilted your head at her curiously. “Just tell me. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“It is.”

“Abby?” You questioned her, but still chose to be tight lipped. “If you want to fix this, I need you to talk.” The cocky attitude had evaporated from earlier, leaving you with one you usually got. The girl who was too afraid to kiss you on the first night. Arguably, you like this version of her a little more.

“I, um, so, I sort of kind of used to think of you when Owen and I used to have sex.”

“Um, okay? Is there a reason I need to know this?”

“Well, the reason I think he hates you so much, on top of me kind of being all over you all the time is….”

“Abby, if you don’t tell me right now, I swear to god.”

“Okay, okay.” Abby took a deep breath before she let the confession tumble from her lips. “Whenever we would, you know, I would always kind of sort of, call out your name instead of his.” Abby mumbled, closing her eyes in shame.

“Baby….you’re kidding.” An itch to laugh bubbles, but you’re able to muffle your giggle enough.

“Would you, you know, not laugh at me.” Abby sighs. “See! This is why I didn’t want to tell you. It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not laughing at you, it’s him. He couldn’t even fuck you good enough to get your poor, gay brain off of me, huh?” Abby let you tease her, your smile, an equal trade for her pride. Her hands glide along your thighs, igniting a fire beneath your skin.

Abby loses the hint of teasing when she responds, “Yes, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I never stop.” Abby took a step forward, your pelvis pressed and to her, legs latched around her toned waist.

“I’m supposed to be mad at you.” She leaned forward, peppering kisses along your neck, you're gripping onto the chain around her neck, your initial engraved on the pendant. Boy, does she make you want to forget about everything as her teeth latch lightly, giving you a playful bite before her tongue soothes over the ache.

“Abs, fuck um don’t you think we should talk first?” Your strong resolve from earlier fading into the tranquility of Abby’s comforting arms.

“Okay. Then, talk babygirl.” She continues to kiss your neck as your neck as you struggle to find your footing.

“I-I just, um, I need…” Subconsciously, your fingers dip into her blonde waves, tugging at the root slightly.

“C’mon, use your words. You did a pretty good job earlier you know, felt a little humiliated back there.”

“Really?”

“What?”

“Abby…It was Dina. I never would have brought Leah up like that. Truthfully? I wasn’t going to bring her up at all.” Abby frowned, lips pouting, clearly frustrated.

She was red, tense, and the jealousy in her gray hues burned bright. Carefully, her hands gripping on your thighs, giving them a light squeeze.

“I didn’t like hearing about another girl kissing you. Someone else who isn’t me…it pisses me off.” Abby sighed, look down at your sweats. “Not hearing it from you just made it so much worse for me.”

With the admission, you tugged her closer to you, resting your hands on her defined traps, caressing the nape of your neck.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told you and I didn’t.” You tugged her closer, if it was even possible, letting the safety of her arms comfort you. “Dina just wants me to admit to you how I feel. It’s why she said it.”

Abby perked up at your confession, neatly placed in the palm of her hand.

“How do you feel?” She asked, cresting some distance between the two of you, pulling you out of the crook in her neck, a new home you’d taken residence.

“One condition…”

“Yeah?” You grasp her chin, tilting her head up slightly, grip tight.

“Next time we’re fighting, and I ask you to say something, you better speak next time or so help me god…” You trailed off but Abby couldn’t take it anymore. She had been dying to kiss you all night, since you’d done the service of your sweet, skilled mouth eating her out like you were personally starved.

“It’s cute, baby.”

“I was talking. Abby?” She silent as you wait for Abby to respond but she just cocks her head to the side, a smirk plastered on her face.

She leans in, whispering in your ear, “You can keep talking. Just let me return the favor from earlier.”

Abby doesn’t give you much time to respond before she’s removing your legs from around her waist, her pretty honey-blonde hair is thrown into a low bun in preparation as she offers her hand, and you take it as she helps you off the countertop.

Abby catches you, strong arm around your waist pulling your body against her.

“How does that sound? You, bossing me around and giving you a reminder of just why you put up with my bullshit. Yeah?” You come down to your natural height, Abby’s presence even more damning. It didn’t matter if she was taller or just a bit shorter than whoever she was around, the confidence she exhibited was fucking damning.

She’s so broad, big, and intimidating and she’s willing to sink to her knees for you. Abby licks her chapped lips until they become shiny and pink.

Fuck, she has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

You nod but she makes no movement to take this somewhere.

“First, tell me how you feel.” Abby rubs her thumb over your soft skin, caressing your cheek with a delicate touch. “C’mon, I mean I might know but I just need to hear it.”

“I just, I’ve been wanting for us to make it exclusive…just me and you. Tired of hiding, in front of our friends especially. I want you to be my girlfriend.” You admit sheepishly, eyes trained on the floor until Abby tilts your head vertically by gripping your chin.

“Baby, it’s all I want you. Jus’ you and I against the world. Yeah?” Abby’s lips mesh with yours, the fit is perfect as if your earlier problems hadn’t melted away.

They didn’t. They were still there, but you could work through them together. You and your girlfriend, against the world, together.

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