#Late Post Because I Was Asleep Oops

[daily-crowley]

Crowley Of The Day: some turtleneck content for today

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 358

Adjective: Screeching

Noun: Pollution

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Screeching: (of a person or animal) giving a loud, harsh, piercing cry; making a loud, harsh, squealing noise; moving rapidly with a loud, harsh, squealing noise; a sudden sense

Pollution: the presence in or introduction into the environment of a substance or thing that has harmful or poisonous effects

[amaranthineghost]

hi! could u write a fic where lando and the reader were fucking and lando takes his phone out halfway through (to take a photo for himself) but accidentally gets it posted on his instagram story and they only find out in the morning idk i just thought this would be funny af

OOPS? ( lando norris. )

lando norris x reader

to commemorate the sight in front of him, he snaps a picture on his phone without realizing he's just posted it for millions to see.

warnings: smut

authors note: I really liked writing this!!! it's a bit shorter than usual, but I enjoyed it a lot so thanks anon!!! <333

HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW HE DID IT. maybe he was just in the haze of sex, buried deep in her cunt with her leg over his shoulder, her other around his lower back pulling him in further.

he was hovering over her, hand pressed against her mouth as strings of muffled moans spilled from her lips, warm tears against his skin. god, she looked so good, too good. he just wanted to remember how fucked out her expression was.

leaning over to the nightstand, slowing his thrusts ever so much as he clutched his phone, flash on to compensate for the darkness of the bedroom. he snapped the photo, throwing the phone to the side, face side up.

he turned his focus back to the messy masterpiece in front of him, returning to the pace he had set before.

he pulled his hand away from her mouth to hear her symphony of moans, music to his ears. his hand took its place on her neck.

lando norris has posted to his story

he was so lost in the moment, he should've realized sooner the mistake he made. he should've realized at the instant texts that lit up his screen because who would be texting him this late?

all he did was flip over the phone, ignoring whatever notified him as he pulled her leg off his shoulder, pushed her leg down from his back. he fell beside her, prompting her to crawl across him, straddling him weakly as his hands settled on her hips.

fuck, she looked so good from this angle. hair messy from the pillows, face red from the tears down her cheeks, but also flushed from how hard he fucked her. he had already coaxed one orgasm ouf of her.

she sank down on his cock, causing him to curse under his breath with praise, “fuck, such a good girl.” his hands clawed into the flesh of her hips, guiding her pace once he saw her struggle.

the view was immaculate, he could've came at the sight of her tits bouncing up and down as she slid on his cock alone. it was salivating.

his hands left her hips to grasp her breasts, and he couldn't care if her pace faltered because everything felt too good in the moment.

if only they knew.

he planted his feet firmly against the bed, grasping her sides again as he lifted his hips to meet her halfway. it was rough, causing her to steady herself with her hands against his chest as he thrusted up and forced her hips down. his cock buried deep in her brought her over the edge so easily as tears fell from her face onto the bare skin of his chest.

she collapsed against his chest as his cock sank into her, feeling the warmth of his seed inside her cunt. she groaned against his chest as his arm spread across her bare back and pressed a kiss to her hair. the tears from her face wet his skin.

“did so good, baby,” he cooed, running fingers across her flesh as she hummed into his chest.

they laid together for a while before going and cleaning up. since it was already late in the night, they got back into bed and fell asleep.

when lando awoke the next morning, his phone was nearly dead and hundreds of texts and missed calls from his friends was the cause. hot to the touch, he carefully held his phone, brows furrowed as he laid on his side, back to his girlfriend, who was still fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

first, he opened the texts from his friend, max, who’s messages were in all caps. his eyes widened at the content, squinting at the screen in disbelief. no way he was that stupid, no the photo he took was in his camera roll—no it wasn't.

he discovered that, unfortunately, the photo he had taken was posted to his Instagram story, and it hadn't been taken down.

if it weren't for the circumstances, he could've stared at the photo all day because it was truly that good, but first he had to get rid of the post—and get the photo into his camera roll.

he nearly jumped out of his skin when she stirred in her sleep, now right against his back with her cheek pressed to his bare skin.

“morning,” she groaned and he mumbled back. she moved to rest her head on his shoulder, squinting to see what was on his phone screen, “why’re you on your phone so early?”

“i'm sorry.” he gulped, turning his head to watch the expression knot on her face, mostly confusion.

she sat up, leaning on her arm as she practically hovered over him, “lando, what did you do?”

“i’m so sorry,” was all he could say.

“lando,” she paused, an underlying tone of irritation laced in her voice as she emphasized her words, “what did you do?”

he glanced back at his phone, not even trying to hide the guilty expression written all over his face. she snatched the phone from his hand, and he didn't stop her. he covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes before leaving them to cover the lower half of his face as he watched her face.

“what the fuck?” she shoved his shoulder.

“i didn't mean to!” he sat up, throwing his hands up before running them through his messy curls, “i don't know how i did it.”

“oh my god,”she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as she hunched over the phone, “i’m deleting it.”

“wait–” his hand touched hers, he bit his lip, “at least save it to my photos–ow!”

she hit the backside of his head at the idiocy of his words. she exhaled deeply, anger taking over her body. of course, he didn't care as much as she did. he wasn't in the photo at all to begin with and this wouldn't affect his career as deeply as it would affect hers.

“why? so you can post it somewhere else? text it to your friends?” she raised her voice, groaning out in frustration.

“baby, calm down–” he tenderly placed a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off.

“how can i calm down, lando?” she threw his phone down on the bedding, falling back down onto the bed with her hands covering her face in shame. now that picture is all everyone will ever see her as, all thanks to her idiot of a boyfriend.

he grabbed his phone back, seeing the photo had been taken down from his story, but they both knew that image would be circling the internet for a long time.

“at least the photo didn't show anything,” he tried to make light of the situation, but it was to no avail as she spat back with venom in her tone.

“you don't even care about the photo because you aren't the one in it, lando.” she scoffed.

“i’m sorry, okay?” he turned to her, “i really didn't mean to, you know i would never do that.”

she sighed, “i know, but i’m still mad, lan.”

“i know, darling,” he laid beside her on his side, looking at her side profile as she stared at the ceiling, “you have every right to be mad.”

she stayed silent, and he didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

he gulped again, speaking up, “and i promise to never take a photo of you when we're fucking ever again.”

a laugh forced it's way past her lips, “oh, please we both know you'll try and fail,” she said with a smile on her lips, shaking her head.

“okay, yeah, but i promise i’ll triple check it's not in any social media post,” he flipped over onto his stomach, propped up by his elbows with his pinky held out. she took it and the promise was made. the situation dealt with, for the most part.

“did you happen to save the photo though–ow, okay!”

—

taglist (found here): @poppyflower-22 @sapphiccloud @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[discontinuedepisode]

The Ghost King was in many ways like him. Young, reckless, power-bound and oddly melodramatic. Was he a dream too? Did the Infinite Realms dream up a successor or was his life never scripted like his very own.

The chances were low. Still, getting upset at Time for waking him with the help of a pretty boy with changing eyes is asking for trouble.

Short DPXDC Prompts #749

Tim Drake isn’t human, he knows that and is comfortable in his skin. This strange ghost boy very obviously isn’t comfortable in his ghost form around humans. He will help change that.

[lilyarchived]

too late [john price]

a/n: I wasn't originally gonna write anything yet because I still feel absolute dogshit, but this post by @gloomyyangel was too yummy to ignore.  I don’t really like this but what else can I do? Write some more? (gunshots)

warnings: smut after keep reading! (go away minors), swearing, hurt NO comfort, fem reader, mean!price at the start, 1.7k words oops, Lowkey abrupt ending.

summary: you let price imagine you as his ex wife because it will hurt even more to let him go, but what happens if he finally tries to make it up to you?

“F-fuuuck..” your husband groans. “Feels,, sso good, angie..” The sound of another woman’s name should be enough to make you feel bad, be enraged, scream at him, go apeshit crazy, right? Your whimpers of pleasure say so otherwise. It has been like this for years, you’ve come to terms that your husband, Captain John Price, will always see you as his ex wife. At some point you feel bad for yourself, you wouldn’t have let this shit slide. Hell, you wouldn’t even settle for a rich, handsome man all because he told you women should just stay quiet. The bitch slap you gave that man before storming out the restaurant stays engraved in the back of your mind, good days. 

But now? Now you’re settling for a man to imagine as if you’re his ex? Since when did your standards fall down to the deepest pit in the ocean? “ ‘m close, fuck, so tight for me.” You didn’t know whether to feel flustered or disgusted at the praise, knowing damn well he’s talking to angie in his mind. You gasp as your orgasm suddenly takes over your whole body, basking in that sweet, sweet pleasure. Hey, he can be a dick husband and still make you cum, nothing wrong with that. He follows suit after a few more thrusts, his hands beside your head grasping at the satin sheets. His moans ring through your ear until he finally plops down beside you.

You don’t expect him to clean up. At Least not like he used to. You get up to clean yourself before going back in the room with a warm and wet washcloth. You clean your husband up before noticing he’s already fast asleep. How did you ever get here? From your handsome Captain flattering you, taking you out on dates, treating you as if you are the sun keeping him warm, putting your pleasure first, and actually caring about you; to this man, ever so distant, calling you his ex wife’s name, never talking to you unless it’s work related or if he needs to let out some energy. And why the hell are you letting this happen? A man? Taking advantage of you? Making you some sort of sex doll?

You wish you could just be mad about it, scream and punch and cry, do anything to avenge your poor self. Yet you can’t. You love him too much, you love him like he painted the morning orange sky above, you love him like he hung up the moon and stars. You love him. Only Simon knows about his behaviour, you were a bit sceptical telling him everything since he always thought so highly of the captain, you feared he would take his side and tell you to get over yourself. You hadn’t expected him to pull you in a tight hug and whisper to you that you should leave him. You cried for the first time in a long time that night.

Snapping back to reality, you get dressed in your sleeping clothes and settle next to your sleeping husband. Staring into his shut eyes, wondering where you went wrong. You let your eyes droop to sleep, preparing your mind for another unbearable day tomorrow.

--

As months passed, you and John were still together, happy, no, but still married. You start to grow numb, never once batting an eyelash when he cums again after moaning “angie”. What an annoying sound in your ears it was. Don’t get me wrong, you still felt good whenever he decided to initiate something sexual with you. Your moans and whines fill the air alongside the sound of slapping skin. Simon gives you the usual disappointed look, but you honestly can’t tell if that’s his resting face or not. Then, everything changes.

“Darling, d’you wanna get food with me?” You freeze on the empty couch in the equally empty rec room. The sound of John’s voice making your heart skip a beat. He has never asked you to eat out with him, well ever since he normalised moaning a different name in bed. It’s like all his intimacy and chivalry left with your dignity. “Umm, I just had dinner Sergeant Garrick, Captain. I’m set for the night..” you reply after you peeked behind you, making sure he was talking to you. “At ease, I’m talking to you as my wife, [Y/N]” You let out a forced chuckle before going back to the book you were reading. “Why were you out with Kyle?” you hear him mutter. He can’t be serious. “..We were both free and hungry?” you reply in a meek voice. “I was free. Couldn’t even be bothered to ask your husband first?” 

The way your blood was boiling the moment that stupid sentence left his mouth. Why does he care? Does he think that he can moan a different woman’s name in bed and get away with it but you going out for dinner with a friend is all of a sudden, adultery? “You told me you’d be busy the whole day. Why is it a big deal I went out with Gaz? It’s not like I’ve been saying his name during sex.” You quickly shut your eyes, you didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. You prepared for his anger, instead you were met with a deep sigh. “I’ll let you be.” He says defeatedly, walking away from the scene. You see a confused Simon in the corner before squealing out of surprise. “How long have you been there, freak?” Simon only chuckles, “Tha’ don’t matter, Cap’n looks devastated. Ya think he’s been feeling guilty?” He sips on his black tea, you remove the hand clutching your shirt near the beat of your heart. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” You fall face down on the couch to scream, ignoring Simon’s deep voice laughing at your pain.

What you both didn’t know is that John has been feeling bad for how he’s been treating you. He would notice your soft giggles echoing the hallways as Johnny picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, at how pretty you look in casual clothes, how your hair flows during bar hopping nights with the team, how your face shines in the city lights. How your nose scrunches when you get teased by Simon for liking your coffee too sweet. How beautiful you sound when he’s feeling you up and down, your surprised gasps as he rubs your clit in circles, how sinfully angelic you look when you come undone. Fuck, he really messed up.

So he makes it up to you, he cuddles after ruining your guts, he cleans you up, he wakes up before you to cook you breakfast. He makes your coffee the way you like it, gets you flowers every now and then, kisses you more passionately rather than his usual rushed ones. He loves you tenderly but it all seems foreign, even though he used to do it for the first few years of your relationship, you had already forgotten how it feels like to be loved by this man.

You feel nauseated. How could he go back to the way things were, like he hasn’t been giving you the cold shoulder for months now? Why now? WHY now? Why NOW? You stay cautious, every sweet move he’s doing puts you on edge. You knock on your Lieutenant’s door before he tells you to “come in” with that same ol’ gruff voice. As the night rolls in, you’ve already told him everything Price was doing, how he kept acting lovingly without addressing the past few months. He tells you you have two options: to confront him, or to go along with it. Neither of it seems appealing to you but deep down, you know he’s right. 

You thank Simon for the advice leaving his room to confront your husband tonight. The minute you walk into John’s room, his face lights up and asks you if you’ve eaten.  You scoff as you tell him you need to talk. “Why are you doing this to me, John?” you finally speak up after staring into the same eyes you fell for. His face drops, eyebrows furrowing, “What do you mean by that, dove?” A sigh escapes your soft lips, “Don’t call me that, John. Don’t act as if you weren’t just calling me, imagining me as your ex wife during our most intimate times. Don’t act like you haven’t been ignoring me, acting as if I didn't exist ‘til you needed work done or if you needed to have a shag.” You let out, tears staining your cheeks. John reaches out to wipe them but you move his hand away. “I mean, was it all a joke to you? Did I mean nothing but a body for you to imagine as if you were still together with her?” John finally talks, “You know it’s not like that, [Y/N]-” 

“Then what, John? What is it like? God, you- you” hyperventilating now, you search for the right words to come out. “You changed me. Acting like nothing’s wrong and being all sweet won’t work on me. I gave up on whatever our relationship was a long time ago.” His breath hitches, “Baby, please-” “I should go.” you cut him off. “Please, I’ll do better, we can start over?” he pleads, grabbing your arm. “It’s not that easy, John.” “Loving you is easy. I love you like it’s breathing. Please. You mean the world to me. I can’t let you go knowing i fucked up everything.” He sounds desperate now.

“I love you, John. But I don’t think I can ever love you like I used to.” He looks up to you, bloodshot eyes as tears pour over his face. You reach over to wipe them away. He leans into your touch. “Don’t give up on me, please?” You give him one last broken smile, “We’re way past not giving up, my love.” 

---

taglist for the people in the original post's comments LMAO (lmk if u want me to untag muheheh): @blackhawkfanatic@tf141gloryhole@montenegroisr@princesslikesfanfics@hoelesss

[in-another-april]

summary/prompt + genre - You leave little notes around the apartment for Spencer. He loves them. | fluff

warnings - none

wc - 289

notes - idk what this is oops. inspired by this one pic i saw of his desk on set, i would insert it but tumblr doesn't let me add media for some reason 😔 also pls send reqs i beg

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It starts on one of the first mornings after you’ve moved in together: you have to leave before him and since he gets so few chances to sleep in, you feel too bad to wake him up. You leave a little sticky note on his end table, telling him you’re off to work, you’ll see him for dinner, and that you love him. You notice the note’s absence the next day but don’t think much of it, assuming that it served its purpose, and he tossed it after reading it.

The next time you write one, it serves as a makeshift bookmark after he’s fallen asleep during a late-night reading session. You draw a few silly hearts and doodles on it before sticking it onto the page, even though you know he’ll probably remember exactly where he left off. Just in case, you figure, never passing up an opportunity to do something cute for him.

You pass his desk the next day and the colorful paper stuck to it catches your attention, because what could Dr. Eidetic Memory possibly need post-it note reminders for? It isn’t until further inspection that you realize they’re the notes from you, and you feel like you’re about to melt into a puddle of lovesick, probably-pathetic-looking goo because oh my god he brought the silly little notes you left him to his workplace so he would see them every day.

When you ask him about it, he bashfully admits he keeps them there to look at and think of you whenever work gets hard, or he's having a bad day (or really, any chance he gets.) So now you’ve made it a point to leave as many notes around for him as possible, all filled with drawings, compliments, and cheesy pick-up lines just to make him smile.

[pxuvalentinx]

Drunk!Gojo x fem!reader

!des: gojo drank a little too much and woops. you two ended up in his bed.

wc: 4.3k (my longest one on tumblr yet)

a/n: wrote this like ages ago and thought why not post it as a late birthday post LOL. I honestly didn't read over it again, so if it's bad - oops.

“Geez, you really are a lightweight, huh?” You chuckled out as you listened to Gojo’s confused mumbles. He was only a couple of shots in and already lost his ability to form any sentences. It was quite a sight to watch Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of his time, get drunk so easily, babbling nonsense, a bright blush covering most of his face. Shoko just glanced over at you two. “Mm’ shutttt…” He answered in an annoyed tone. His arms were hanging down as he was leaning back into the chair, his head was thrown back while he stared at the ceiling.

You have no idea how you even ended up here, considering that only a few days ago Gojo was practically begging you to come along, because he believed that you were a lightweight as well, so he hoped that he wouldn’t be the only one to get drunk that quickly. Even though he hated alcohol, he was really hitting it off tonight. Bottle after bottle of Sake. At first, you were hesitant, but as soon as he mentioned that Shoko and Nanami would be there too, you couldn’t say no anymore.

Nanami had left about an hour ago now, he was very strict about keeping up his sleep schedule. That’s a fact you could never forget about him, ever since you guys met at Jujutsu High about 10 years ago.

Your eyes flicked from Gojo to Shoko as she poured herself another drink. “Let me have another one too!” You say.

- “Still not drunk?” She replied.

- “A bit tipsy, but that’s about it.”

A laugh escaped her mouth while she poured you a drink. You were more of a Whiskey type, while Gojo preferred Sake, whenever he did decide to drink. Your eyes lingered back to Gojo who was now leaning forward to grab another bottle of Sake. Shoko was quick to react, placing the bottle of Sake out of his reach. Getting a pout out of Gojo.

“Awhhhh,” He whined, “Meanieeee~ Y/nnn~~ Say somethin’~” Your eyes widened as he grabbed onto your arm, slightly pulling it in order to get your attention. His hair was a complete mess, no strand of hair was where it was supposed to be. You thought it was rather adorable how he was holding onto your arm like that. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t have a crush on him, or at least thought about how he’d look on top of you. Even though you had those thoughts, you never had the time to mention them to him or try to make a move, you were way too busy for all of that. You doubted that he’d even care, considering that he probably has all girls chasing after him, whenever he was not in Jujutsu High.

“Think you’ve had enough, ‘Toru.” You replied. Gojo moved closer to you, still holding onto that arm. He was clinging to you like a cat in heat, rubbing slightly against you. Shoko raised one eyebrow at the sight, before finishing her drink, surprising you. You hadn’t even started drinking yours. “I’ll be taking my leave as well, you’ll be fine?” Shoko said as she put her glass down.

- “Yeah. I don’t know when I’ll get to leave yet, gon’ make sure Satoru is asleep before”

- “Okay.” Her hands were reaching around her, trying to find her coat and bag. A quiet ‘Ah’ escaped her mouth when she found them.

- “Get home safe.” You responded, waving goodbye with your free hand. Shoko just gave you a sweet smile before putting on her coat and checking the pockets to make sure she has everything.

“Byeee Iei-” Hiccup, “-ri.” Gojo responded, now letting go of your arm to wave with both of his hands enthusiastically. Shoko waved back, turning around to walk into the hallway. Shortly after, the click of the front door confirmed that she was gone. Your head was now turned to Gojo who was staring into the dark hallway.

“Shall we get you to bed?” You mentioned, grabbing Gojo’s attention. “Don’t want to sleep…yet.” Another Hiccup. Soft whining left his mouth, basically pleading with the puppy eyes. You chuckled at the sight of him, as you took a few sips from your drink. Normally you hated silence, it was a weird uncomfortable feeling, but right now, you were loving it. The sight of Gojo pleading at you to let him stay up a little longer, while you sip on your Whiskey — hoping that enjoying this last drink wouldn’t cause you any problems later.

This wasn’t like Gojo at all, normally he was always super talkative, confident and flirty in the way he talked to girls. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or because of you. The quiet sound of glass hitting wood sounded, as you put your now empty glass on the table. Feeling a little dizzy from the amount of alcohol that you just consumed in such a short amount of time, you decided that it would be best if you went home as well. The only obstacle here was getting Gojo into his bed.

“C’mon now, ‘Toru. You should really sleep, it’s late.” You somewhat repeat. A sigh left Gojo’s mouth, as he unwillingly got up, leaning all of his weight onto you. You tried your hardest to support him, even though you were much smaller than him. Gojo was humming a song while walking with you. You couldn’t guess what song it was, probably just something he had made up in his head. With your free hand, you opened the bedroom door. Gojo swaying left and right next to you, just following you blindly. His eyes were barely open, he could’ve probably fallen asleep while standing. Gojo’s eyes only opened when he felt the bed against him, he hadn’t even realised that you lied him down. “Mhmm… So comfy~” He mumbled while letting his head sink into the pillow. You could finally feel the alcohol from earlier hitting you, dizziness overcoming your head again.

“Sleep well, ‘Toru.” You said while throwing the blanket over him, as you pull it up to his chest you can feel a hand grabbing your wrist. Gojo’s hand. “Hm?” You whisper.

- “Where’s my goodnight kiss?”

- “Good night kiss??!” Your face was now covered in a deep red blush, your legs got weak just at the idea. You weren’t 100% sure if that was what he actually had said, so you decided to wait for confirmation from him. He was drunk, after all, and you didn’t want to take advantage of that. But you could also feel yourself losing more and more control of your mind and actions with each passing second, the Whiskey was starting to get to you.

- “‘M waitin’~” He purred as he pulled on your wrist to get you closer.

Hearing his sweet voice ask that from you got your body burning with heat. You knew if you decided to give in, this night would not end on a ‘Good night kiss’. You knew that if you gave in to this, you’d give in to everything else, every single one of your fantasies, desires, and needs. His gaze was on you, looking you up and down, waiting for your answer. Your eyes met his. Fuck, your eyes met his. The bright blue colour, the dilated pupils, the way he looked at you through his lashes. You knew that he’ll be the death of you someday.

Suddenly you snapped back into reality, remembering his request. Quickly you licked your lips before feeling the nervousness rising in your chest. It wasn’t the first time you had kissed a man, especially not when it comes to those quick kisses. So why? You leaned forward, your face right above his. ‘Just a quick peck on his lips, right?’ You told yourself in your head over and over again, but you couldn’t seem to calm down at all.

One last deep breath, before you leaned down, pressing your lips onto his. You were just about to pull away again and probably die from embarrassment, but only a second later you could feel two big hands cupping your face, pulling you in. His hands were gently squeezing your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. Considering that you weren’t prepared for a kiss longer than a second or two, you ran out of air pretty quick. Gojo wasn’t stupid - no matter how drunk he was, he noticed that you were out of breath and let you pull away, not entirely letting go of your cheeks though. His fingertips were still lingering on your soft skin.

Your lips were only a few inches apart from each other, as you tried to catch your breath you could hear mumbles coming from Gojo.

- “Mm..so soft…more…can’t stop…” He panted, his drunk-tired eyes glancing at your rosy lips.

Before you could realise it, his lips were pressed onto yours again. Instead of the soft kiss you shared before, he decided to be rough with you this time. Still in shock, you decided to just move along, to let him take the lead. Soft pants and groans left Gojo’s mouth. Not pulling away from his lips, you moved the rest of your body onto the bed, you were now on all fours on top of Gojo. His hands wandered from your cheeks down to your waist, tugging at your loose blouse and pulling it up slightly. The soft touch and his cold hands sent shivers down your spine.

In one swift motion, he had you on your back, now underneath him - his lips still on yours. One of his hands was moving up again, pinning your hands above your head, while the other hand remained on your exposed waist. The cool air in Gojo’s bedroom had your body covered in goosebumps. You could feel Gojo’s tongue begging for more at your lips, so without a second thought you granted him access. His tongue immediately started fighting with yours for dominance, the sweet taste of sake mixing with the rather smoky taste of whiskey. The hand that was on your waist slid under your blouse only to feel the soft fabric of your bra, you could hear a quiet chuckle escaping Gojo’s mouth, regardless of your tongues fighting for dominance.

He rested his hand on your bra for a bit, before he pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva connected your mouth with his. Satoru loosened his grip on your pinned up wrists a little, while he unbuttoned your blouse in only a few seconds. His eyes scanned your entire upper body.

- “So.. fuckin’ gorgeous~” He exhaled. You could see the excitement in his eyes. His words sent another shiver down your spine, as your face lit up.

Gojo’s hand finally let go of your wrists, pulling off the blouse before you could even realise it. You lied there like a starfish, not being quite sure where to put your hands or what to do, but Gojo didn’t seem to mind. He was enjoying every second of this, of being able to admire your perfect body, being able to run his hands up and down your body without you saying a word, only sweet whimpers leaving your mouth. Music to his ears. Before even letting you think again, he slid a hand under your back, lifting you with ease. The other hand was undoing your bra. You were surprised by how easily he had undone your bra.

- “Not your first time, huh?” You teased at his actions. A quiet chuckle was his response, you took that as a yes.

He threw your bra into a corner of his room, finding it would be a problem for later. For now, his eyes were focused on your breasts, licking his lips. He removed his hand from your back and let you sink into the bed again. The shy and intoxicated Gojo from earlier seemed to have lost all control over himself as soon as he saw your breasts. A hand immediately started to gently squeeze one of them. His thumb brushing over your nipple, gently rubbing it, in order to get any sounds out of you - which wasn’t necessarily hard, considering that the alcohol from earlier made you even more sensitive than you usually are. You could see a smirk forming on Gojo’s face, while he listened to your quiet whimpers. The spot between your legs was starting to get soaked, only from Gojo touching you so delicately. His other hand started to take care of your other breast, now simultaneously fondling both of them. Biting down on your lip, you tried to suppress any moans. Your eyes that were just roaming around the room, now met Gojo’s face. His eyes were focused on your tits, the way they perfectly fit into his hands, the way your skin felt against his hands. His ears were listening to the sweet sounds, the bulge in his pants growing bigger. His mouth was slightly opened. You’ve never seen a man be so mesmerised by the sight in front of him.

The puddle in between your legs was soaking the bed sheets at this point. As much as you loved Gojo paying so much attention to your chest, you wanted more. You needed more. You bucked your hips up slightly, trying to get the fabric of your panties to rub against your swollen clit. Not even biting your lip could suppress your moans anymore,

- “Ha?” Gojo didn’t waste any time moving his hand down to your lower stomach, pressing it down to keep you from moving. A whine of frustration escaping you. “Gettin’ impatient? Slut.”

His words sent waves of excitement through your body.

- “Please…’Toru… want you to touch me~” You begged. Giving him the sweetest look you could possibly do.

In a blink of a second, your pants were off, leaving you only with your panties on. Gojo slid back a little, kneeling in between your legs. His eyes immediately shifted from your chest to your drenched panties. One hand wandered down, rubbing two fingers against your clothed pussy. A gasp escaped your mouth as you bucked your hips against his hand. An excited look overcame his face.

- “Want me to touch you there, hm?” His fingers were not stopping, while you bucked your hips at them. A whimper was your response.

He suddenly withdrew his fingers, before ripping your panties off. Your face was burning, your senses being so heightened was driving you crazy. You watched Gojo bring your panties closer to his face, to his nose. He groaned when he practically inhaled the scent of your pussy. “Fuck… I’ll keep them as a souvenir, so I have something whenever you’re not around…” His other hand was cupping his bulge, while he continued to sniff your panties. The sight and his words almost made you finish right there and then.

Your exposed cunt was throbbing at the sight as well, the cool air blowing over it made you gasp. Gojo eventually put the panties down, and shifted all his attention back to you.x His eyes now focused on your cunt, licking his lips. Your eyes were following his every move. He moved down - looking at your cunt.

“Mm… such a pretty pussy~ Gon’ ruin it…” He purred before using his thumb to massage your clit - the sudden touch already driving you crazy, quiet gasps and whimpers leaving your lips. A low chuckle coming from Gojo, enjoying your reaction. The bulge in his pants was screaming for some action as well, but he was ignoring that for now. Before you could realise it, he inserted a finger, making you squirm. You already knew that he had pretty long fingers, but actually feeling them caught you off guard. Not long after, a second finger entered you. They weren’t necessarily thick, but definitely long enough to reach those sweet spots you could only dream of. He was aware of his skinny fingers, so in order to get you ready for him, he spread his fingers inside of you. You screamed at the feeling of getting stretched like that. His scissoring motions were rough, but the pain faded quickly, calming you a little.

His fingers were soaked at this point. Your mouth was wide open, whimpering, gasping, moaning, while Gojo thrusted his fingers in and out of you, occasionally curling them, hitting exactly the spot that made you get weak in the knees, that built up that knot in your abdomen more and more. His eyes kept flicking between your pussy and your face, enjoying both sights just equally as much. Not only did he get enjoyment out of looking at your face and cunt, he also loved the sounds you were making - the sounds your drenched cunt was making as his fingers ruined it. Every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of his face, he looked so pleased while fingering you. It pushed you even closer to the edge.

- “...Ah~ ‘Toru gonna c-” He cut you off by starting to rub your clit again with the thumb on his other hand.

- “Cum for me, Doll.”

That was all you needed to hear to lose all control. Your orgasm hit you hard, Gojo fingered you through it, making you pant and gasp for air. A mischievous grin started to appear on his face. “Good girl.” He said before withdrawing his hands from your cunt. Not letting you catch your breath, his hands grabbed onto your thighs - spreading them even further. His face diving directly into your cunt, sucking and licking up all of your juices. Some satisfied purrs left his lips, sending vibrations through your pussy. The overstimulation was making you whine. His talented tongue was all to keep your jaw dropped, mouth wide open. Looking down at him, you could only see his soft snow-white hair, his face was entirely buried in your pussy. He was eating you out like it was his first meal after days.

Eventually, he pulled away, giving you some time to breathe. His face was a mess, your juices were covering half of it. The dim light in his room was making him look 10 times hotter than usual. Your cunt was throbbing from the orgasm you just experienced. He looked beyond proud.

Gojo’s cock was also throbbing, leaking with precum, ruining his pants and underwear. It was throbbing for you. Your cunt felt so empty, missing the feeling of his digits inside of you — not knowing that the emptiness would get replaced by something way better soon.

While you were still catching your breath, your eyes caught Gojo taking off the sweater he was wearing. All of your attention immediately shifted to him - he knew exactly what he was doing, taking off his sweater so slowly that it was starting to drive you crazy, revealing his fit upper body, flexing his muscles on purpose. You knew very well why girls liked him - why you liked him. The defined abs, the V-line, his muscular arms, the little trail of white hair right above his pants. The last time you had seen him shirtless was on a beach day back when you were still a student in Jujutsu High. His body back then was ridiculous compared to what you were seeing right now. He was watching you from the corner of his eye, smirking to himself.

- “Like the view?”

- “You like yours just as much.”

- “Not wrong.”

The dizziness from earlier never left your mind, your senses never went back to normal again. Quite the opposite actually, it feels like Gojo is just making it worse with every passing second. You were lost in your thoughts, lost at the sight. Something inside of you still hadn’t realised that your fantasies finally came true. Deep inside of you, you were praying that this wasn’t a dream. That you wouldn’t wake in your own bed in a few minutes - which wouldn’t be the first time.

The sound of a zipper brought you back to reality. You weren’t expecting a butt naked Gojo in front of you when you snapped back. Cock fully erect, slightly jumping in excitement, precum dripping out of it. His cock was slightly curved upwards. He used his hand to smear the precum all over his cock, quiet groans already escaping his mouth as he gently stroked it. You could tell he was just as sensitive as you were. Gojo had a tight grip on it, squeezing it with each stroke, his groans getting louder with each stroke. The sight only made the knot in your abdomen build up again. He’d call you pathetic if he knew just how excited that got you. Mumbles, quiet mumbles - ‘fuck’ ‘ah’ ‘ngh~’ ‘mhm..’. His eyes were focused on your body the entire time. One last stroke before he stopped.

He lined up with your cunt, as he rubbed his dick against your folds and clit, slipping the tip in every now and then. Gojo was looking for certain reactions from you, and you did not disappoint him. Quiet screams leaving your lips at the slight stretch of his tip slipping inside.

- “Tell me how badly you want it, sweetheart.” Gojo purred.

Forming a simple sentence has never been this hard in your entire life. Never ever have you struggled so hard to just make other sounds than whimpers. He was an asshole, asking you to beg and then rubbing his dick against your clit even more.

- “...I- fuck~”

- “C’mon… Use those big girl words…”

- “...’Toru please~ I want your- ah~ dick so badly…”

FUCKHe slammed into you, stretching out every inch of your tight cunt. Your back arched immediately, as you pressed the back of your head further into the pillow. You dug your fingernails into the bedsheets. To your surprise, the shock only made you gulp loudly. Gojo gasped when he felt his tip kiss your cervix, only now realising that he had buried himself balls deep inside of you. His hands wandered to your hips, not only to keep you in place, but also to make sure to pull you as far as possible onto his dick. The fingers he had inside of you just a few minutes ago were nothing compared to the girth of his dick. They were nothing compared to the way he made you feel like when he thrusted so roughly yet so lovingly into you. The way his tip gave a little smooch to your cervix with every thrust. The pain that kept on mixing with pleasure was making you go stupid, making you lose every coherent thought in your brain.

slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap.At this point you were choking on your own saliva, panting so heavily.

slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap.Gojo had this devilish grin on his face as he fucked you stupid, as he fucked you into the point where you wouldn’t even realize your own orgasms anymore. You had no idea how long it has been since a man has fucked you so sincerely, or if it has ever been this intense. Oh how glad you were that you agreed to joining the little drinking ‘party’ tonight. His two hands that were still holding your hips, were no longer just firmly gripping them, he was roughly squeezing them - geez, this would leave marks later.

His thrusts were starting to stutter.

- “Oh fuck…stop…squeezing me…mhm~” The way your walls were clenching around him made him lose the confidence in his thrusts.

Sloppy but still rough thrusts were the aftermath. Sweat was covering his chest and neck, his breathing was getting heavier with each passing second. You couldn’t remember how many orgasms you were in by now - but you could feel the next one building up already. Not only yours, but Gojo’s first for the night.

Gojo suddenly lifted your legs and threw each over his shoulders, hitting a completely different angle from the position switch. Making you gasp out loud. This position was making you see stars, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. A low chuckle escaped Gojo’s mouth at your reaction. He was quite aware of the spot you liked by now. So in order to make you finish with him, he hit it over and over and over again. Making you whine, tears of pleasure starting to run down your cheeks at the overstimulation. Oh, and how the tears turned him on. How this entire sight just made him grow harder with each moment, how it made his dick throb so terribly. How he could finish at any moment looking at this, and how he will pull you with him.

It was starting to get impossible to ignore the knot in your abdomen, only a little more and you’d-

splash

Without any warning you could feel Gojo filling you up, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips. It pushed you over the edge so nicely. The legs that were thrown over his shoulders were shaking by now. As you looked at Gojo, you could only see him panting and almost whimpering. Sweat was running down his forehead. A lovely sight to see regardless.

As he pulled out of you, his eyes watched his seed flow out of your pussy so slowly. “Oh shit~” He hissed.

You chuckled quietly, also catching your breath. His eyes shifted to you, grinning like the asshole he is. You really would’ve liked a warning, but it’s too late for that now anyway. He let your legs down back onto the bed and then leaned forward to press a tender kiss on your lips.

Too exhausted to fight back or even talk about what just happened, you just let it happen. But in the end, what would you even be complaining about?

Guess the alcohol did you justice tonight.

 ©pxuvalentinx - do not steal, modify, translate or repost my work.

[sofs16]

us first

thank you for this request:)))

++ added hate to reader because ………..

(after writing this i realized it’s kinda angsty oops im sorry lmk if u want me to redo this 😓)

with busy days apart and the media digging into you, sometimes there were more downs than ups in a week. charles had been off racing and being a singer, it isn’t easy to always attend.

there was a particular struggle for a while at the passionate tifosi who worshipped charles. of course you understood them, but it got to a point your faith in whether you were good enough for charles was wavering.

charles was amazing on and off camera and track. he made sure to take the relationship at a pace well for both of you. he always defended you against such comments even when he wasn’t asked to, often his pr team even scolded him for being too aggressive.

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 6,799,696 others

yn nd that’s the end of our life support tour 🥹🫀🌠 thank you for being lovely, monaco!

view all 273,697 comments

sharl55 🤮🤮🤮 Horrible wag. You never show up at races and are never there for Charles. He deserves better.

⤷ charles_leclerc Please stop commenting horrible things about Yn. She does support me and likewise, I support her music. I don’t deserve her.

⤷ yn i love you charlie 😭

it’s nights like these where you and charles get to see each other not through face time. your schedules aligned finally when you got to spend nights under the same comforter.

with the monaco gp this week, and the tour ending today, these were nights where you and charles stayed in.

you bought face masks and food on your way home while charles bought some wine and ingredients for baking and cooking.

you set your keys down on the table when you made it into yours and charles’ shared apartment.

“baby?” you heard from the kitchen “hey charlie” you slipped behind him and kissed his neck as he smiled, shaking his head. “you’re late” he scolded lightly.

“i know, i know! but- i was deciding if we were goijg for strawberry or cucumber face masks” you held the bag up. “you got both, didn’t you” he raised a brow “..yeah” you laughed and made a beeline to the bedroom “‘m gonna change and we can start!” “take your time!” he replied

you giggled, changing into charles’ pajamas since they were always so comfortable. you ran to the kitchen and helped charles in making the ravioli you both wanted

“that comment was so infuriating like- did you see that? the one under your post today?” he asked, stirring the pasta in the pot while you hopped on the counter top, something he always scolded you for.

“yeah… it’s okay. you didn’t have to reply but i appreciate it” you looked at your slippers as you swung them around. he sighed and walked over to you, holding your chin lightly.

“do not listen to them, okay mon amour?” he looks into your eyes “mhm” you smile, getting lost in them.

“besides…” he walks back to the pasta “they are not the ones who get to taste my amazing pasta” he holds it up proudly and you laugh, shaking your head as he puts it in your plates.

you go to the bedroom and move the blankets over to the living room as you light the candles and turn the television on. charles sets the plates on the table and you sit on the couch, waiting for him already holding your plate.

he comes back with two glasses of wine and you put on harry potter on the tv but it’s playing at a volume less than 10.

you both face each other and laugh, talking about random things going on. he talks about his nerves for the gp, especially that it’s his hometown, but he’s glad you’re coming because you haven’t been able to go to the last 4 races. charles brought ninetnedos and you both raced each other at some point.

you both eventually fall asleep on top of one another on the couch.

charles.jpg

liked by pierregasly, and 73 others

charles.jpg i love my girlfriend

view all 11 comments

carlossainz55 sending this to yn

⤷ charles.jpg No! This is so I can obsess over her quietly.

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 11,191,201 others

yn a weekend well spent with myyyy loveeee 💌

view all 2,696,606 comments

charles_leclerc That last video was not necessary😊

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 10,579,708 others

charles_leclerc Ma belle! My talented and beautiful girlfriend 😘

view all 1,282,696 comments

charles_leclerc Send her hate and I will send you 10000 photos of her and you will love her and you will stop.

yn my scrumptious, handsome, cutesey, fatherly, talented, fast, racer, amazing, cool, chill bf who helped me fulfill my grumpy x sunshine trope dream. loveu

⤷ charles_leclerc So much to unravel but I am NOT grumpy. ⤷ landonorris yes you are

ynchar YN AT THE PADDOCK. WE WON!

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 20,282,585 others yn bet that person who called me a bad wag has never attended a gp like me 😉

view all 4,383,595 comments

charles_leclerc You should talk like this more.

⤷ yn anyone comes for my man I WILL FIGHT. I CAN FIGHT.

stcharles I love how Charles comments in every post of yn 🥹 ynsbabe petty yn is so iconic😭😭😭😭

0ferrari0_ love my queen

[brokenmachinemusings]

im rewatching the surprising click mvs rn. break is a whole beast to get into so i wont go into that rn, but heres a few points/observations about surprising click and train trial specifically

first of all. where the hell is this place? it has art and it has a 3d modelled room. 9th june, 12th june and 13th june. these dates don’t exactly make sense. i don’t remember when the first surprising click song came out, but it was probably around 9th june or close to that — so it could be applied. to add on, i just noticed they have “day 1, 2, 3” titles on, with june 15th being day 4. which is odd. bcz ur telling me june 12th is day 1, 13th is 2, 09th is 3, 15th is 4? but maybe this was just a typography error. because i know surprising click has, surprisingly, a few clipping errors (youre bound to notice them as an animator. the ones i remember are two on qiao ling, one on the final screen with the cart. i’m sad there wasn’t a quality checker or an edit or a reupload; it’d be quite easy to fix). but food for thought, god knows.

i also noticed that qiao ling has A LOT of li tianxi references in her surprising click outfit. her ring, her shirt, her necklace, as well as i’m pretty sure her hat. i might’ve missed something and might go into a deep dive of their outfit designs some day (wtf is that thing on lu guang that looks like bread?) (also cheng xiaoshi has an angel wing. haha, so funny, haha…)

and well, here’s the same li tianxi symbolism below again, this time in train trial. if you don’t get it, it’s the same as her hairclips, which are the main “defining” characteristic of hers. there was another more viney pattern in some of the lyrics, but this was most likely intentional.

lastly, in li tianchen’s part, i don’t think this happens with anyone else — there’s something that spells oht candy 030 in the top corner. which has me wondering what it is? first thought was a date, since 30 is a day, but the 0 doesn’t make sense. maybe march zeroeth? feburary 29th? i dont know, im spewing. it seems like such a random thing to add too.

these are just random things. i still havent rewatched now&forever as well as house of the hotheaded, mainly because i dont have them downloaded. also i zoned out in half of my watches, oops, i still might have missed something.

it’s really late in my time so, i might either add more things once i rewatch again or in the morning — i’m practically half asleep. hope some of this might be interesting, though.

small typography/design analysis of train trail, if you’re interested in reading it (kind of a continuation, but not exactly, as i wrote it right after this post)

[leiawritesstories]

Part 1: Velaris

Co-Written with @mariaofdoranelle

Of Hearts and Heists Masterlist

Read on AO3

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: swearing, grumpy Rowan, icky paparazzi, blink and you miss it angsty hints oops

A/N: @mariaofdoranelle and i are so excited about this story!!! we're also kind of busy lol so this might be very randomly updated, but we're still so excited to share it with you!!

Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four Months Earlier

Aelin blinked awake at the soft tap on her shoulder, brushing the bleariness from her eyes. She touched a button on the side of her headphones, turning off the noise-canceling feature, and moved one of the cups off of her ear, looking inquisitively up at the uniformed flight attendant standing politely beside her reclined seat. 

“We are preparing for descent, Ms. Galathynius,” the lady said softly. “I’ll need to bring your seat upright. Would you like to stay here or move into another part of the cabin?” 

“I can move, thank you.” Swinging her sleepy legs over the side of the makeshift bed, she got up, picked up her small bag and the media report her publicist left while Aelin was asleep, then moved to the other half of the private plane’s cabin. Comfortable beige leather chairs sat in clusters of four around a few tables, and she crossed over to the one where a dark-haired man around her own age was sprawled in one of the chairs, snoring softly. 

He didn’t budge when she sat down opposite him, propped her chin on her hands, and stared directly into his closed eyes. Time to work, then.

She flipped open the folder that held Elide’s report. On the first page, she’d left a Post-it note with the reminder that Aelin would meet her new bodyguard. She didn’t know anything about him, except he was highly recommended and flew from Wendlyn to temporarily replace Chaol while he was on paternity leave.

Post-it aside, Aelin knew what was inside Elide’s media report even before she opened it: a reminder of the next season of her show among a whole bunch of speculation about her love life. She wasn’t masochistic enough to Google herself and see what was being said about her, hence why her publicist always curated a sum up of what was currently being said about her, with a few headlines and hit tweets so she could have an idea of potential subjects for the next round of interviews. 

And this week’s media report? Just a big are-they-or-aren’t-they.

Because if producers invite Aelin and Dorian to co-star together, it’s obviously because they’re in a romantic relationship, it wouldn’t have to do with both of them being hard-working stars who have chemistry on screen, get along with each other and the rest of the crew off-screen, and also happen to not arrive late or throw tantrums on set.

It was another several minutes before he stirred, and Aelin prepared for it, putting her work off to stare at him with crazy eyes as he pushed the silk sleep mask off of his eyes—to her delight, he gave a little shriek. 

“Holy shit, Aelin!” 

She snickered. “Morning, princess. Have a good beauty sleep?” 

Dorian Havilliard pushed his hair away from his face with a sniff. “Since you’re clearly so invested in my well-being, yes. I did.” 

“Aww, Dor, you know how easy it is to scare you.” She caught the pencil he threw at her head. “You would have been scared when you woke up anyway, since we’ll be halfway around the world.” 

“That doesn’t scare me.” He settled his headphones around his neck. “We’ve both been in this game too long to be freaked out by a little time change, right?” 

“Right.” Aelin turned her attention to the notes on her phone. “Are we ready for tonight?” Her publicist had left her a lengthy list of instructions for that night’s launch of the teaser trailer for the new season of “Queen of Glass,” the hit Netflix series that Aelin and Dorian starred in. 

Dorian grumbled under his breath. “I guess. Wish we didn’t have to jump straight into press, but that’s just how it worked out this time.” Normally, when going to an event for their current project, they would arrive at their first stop and have a day or two to settle in, adjust to the time change, and prepare for the upcoming interviews, but their last few weeks of filming had gone later than expected, and they hadn’t been able to leave until the day before the trailer launch. 

“I know, you wanted to be able to see the sights—the landmarks, the river, the art, the men.” Aelin laughed at the guilty flush that crept up Dorian’s face. “It’s okay, you know—I have a thing for Velarian men too, I’d never judge you for it.” 

He smirked. “We can leave that to dear old Dad.” 

She barked out a sharp laugh. “It’s too bad he won’t be at this event, because you could give him all the heart attacks.” 

“About that…” 

Aelin arched one eyebrow. “Why do I sense that you’re about to ask me for one of your big favors again, Dor?” 

“I have a big favor to ask,” Dorian crooned, right on cue, snickering. 

She sighed in pretend reluctance. “What is it?” 

“Weshouldpretendtobedating.” The words spilled out of him in a single, breathless rush. He took a big gulp of breath and tried again, his fingers tapping erratically on the top of the table. “We should pretend to be dating when we give interviews.” 

“Dor, sweetheart…” Her confusion grew. “Why the hell are you saying that?” 

“I have a whole entire explanation that I should’ve given first, but of fuckin’ course I had to go and spill the conclusion.” He took a long drink from his water bottle. “You know how much of an asshole my dad gets when he’s stressed out during campaigns.” 

Aelin nodded. “Oh, I’m very aware of Asshat-in-Chief Havilliard.” 

Actually, his dad was an asshole every day of every year and managed to get worse around the elections, but Dorian was so used to the toxicity and verbal abuse that he saw it as ‘normal’.

Dorian snickered. “Well, before we left on this trip, he decided to grant me the immense favor of a two-minute phone call, and he told me quite bluntly that if I ‘do anything to screw over his campaign,’ he’d go the extra mile to ‘unscrew it’—that was a direct quote, by the way, and you know…” 

“I do,” Aelin said, softening now. Havilliard Sr. was the perfect example of how dangerous it could be to hand that much power in the hands of a jackass like him. The possibilities of what he could do to his son were endless—publicly cut him off, forbid him from seeing his mother and little brother, even sink his career with a few phone calls to high-profile executives from his golf club—and the worst thing, he had no qualms about dangling this over his own son’s head when convenient. “Sounds just like the kind of shit he would say,” Aelin agreed. “What do you need?” 

“The next thing he told me—as if it wasn’t already clear—was that if I’m too indiscreet, he’ll consider that me screwing over his campaign. So, I just need to keep him off my ass, get one hell of a solid alibi, you know? And I didn’t have any good ideas until I told Lys about Dad’s phone call.” He took another deep breath. “I’m not trying to shift the blame here—” 

“You definitely are, but I’ll ignore it,” Aelin teased. “Go on.” 

“Lys suggested that we pretend to be dating for this press tour, potentially starting as early as this event. If we’re seen in a ‘relationship,’ then all the paparazzi and tabloids will assume that we’ve been hiding it for a while, and they’ll go fucking insane trying to dig up all the little hints. They’ll get so consumed with our fake love story that they won’t pay any attention to the stuff we don’t want them to see. Plus, it will get even more engagement for the season premiere.” 

“Don’t I know that,” Aelin muttered. She tapped her nails thoughtfully on the edge of the table, thinking over Dorian’s proposal. “I want to ask for time to think about it, but…Lys is right. Damn, it’s like she knows things about this.” 

Dorian chuckled. “Almost like it’s her job, right?” 

“Who would’ve guessed?” Aelin laughed. “It’s a hell of an idea, Dor. Do you think we can actually pull it off?” 

“My beloved Elentiya,” Dorian intoned, quoting his lines from the season they had just finished filming. “My heart and soul are yours.” 

“You’re such a drama queen,” she teased. “Okay. We just have a lot to plan and discuss, but… I’ll do it.”

While she hated to indirectly support Dorian’s dad, she’d do just about anything to protect her friend.

“Thank you,” he said with a soft, grateful look—completely serious for once—and reached over to squeeze her hands.

The plane touched down as they spoke, the slight jolt of the landing causing the luggage in the overhead compartments to rattle softly. The pilot’s voice crackled to life over the speaker a moment later. “Welcome to Velaris! The local time is 14:25. We will likely be taxiing for ten to fifteen minutes, so please sit comfortably until we’ve reached our gate at the private flight terminal.” 

“Looks like we’ll have a few hours before the trailer launch,” Aelin remarked, glancing at her smart watch. 

“At least enough time to prepare while we sit in hair and makeup,” Dorian said, somewhat cynically. 

She wiggled her brows at him. “We both know your favorite part of being a famous film star is getting your hair done every day, you little diva.” 

“Guilty as charged.” He combed his fingers through his dark waves. 

The plane finally pulled into a gate and stopped, its engines rumbling down to silence as the jet bridge connected to the plane’s doors. Aelin stood up, stretching her arms above her head and wincing a little at the stiffness in her hips from eleven hours on a plane. Even the comfort of the private jet didn’t relieve the physical strain of such long travel days. 

She fished out her pair of sunglasses from her purse, but before she could descend the jet’s stairs, her assistant Manon was already talking to a man on the floor.

A man? Aelin wasn��t sure. He was the size of a French-door refrigerator, and he was probably strong enough to lift one, too. Pale blond hair, sunglasses, black ink peeking out his collar and sleeves contrasting with that Wendlyn tan.

“Darling, is our relationship open?” Dorian slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to get a better look. 

”Why?” she said in a teasing tone. “Last one to ride the bodyguard is a rotten egg?”

Manon, who was standing on the jet bridge, had her back to them, but she turned to give them one of her scary glares. Dorian immediately straightened, and it was only then that Aelin realized that they were both blocking the airplane door to gawk at the bodyguard.

Both hurried to descend the stairs, but Aelin went directly to her assistant—and new bodyguard—while Dorian went to Lys, probably to tell his publicist about their conversation.

The bodyguard took off his sunglasses, exposing a set of pine-green eyes. Gods, he just kept getting more attractive. 

She was in such deep shit.

“Aelin,” Manon said crisply when she was within reach. “I want you to meet the personal security officer that’ll work with us while Chaol’s out.”

He gave nothing but a curt nod, his face a blank mask.  

“I’m Aelin,” she offered.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Galathynius.”

“Do you have a name, or should I just snap my fingers at you?” She couldn’t resist a teasing grin, or the analytical up-and-down stare, watching as his jaw clenched. 

“Whitethorn. Rowan Whitethorn.” 

Rowan Whitethorn—stern, blazing green eyes, muscles for days, and tattoos that made her wonder how far they went. They curled down to the fingertips of his right hand and up part of his neck, only highlighting his…god, he was hot. An annoyed scowl crossed his stupidly handsome face. So far, his personality was the only unattractive thing about him, and his grumpy ass would stick out like a sore thumb among her team’s friendly environment.

”We treat each other on a first-name basis on my team, are you okay with this?”

He nodded. “Of course, ma’am.”

His automatic, almost robotic reply brought a slow smirk to her lips. “Let’s practice, then. Call me Aelin.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, barely concealing his irritation, and kept strong eye contact as he said, “Very well, Aelin.”

“And I’m Dorian,” the annoying pain in her ass she called a best friend and co-star cut in.

Aelin sighed. “He’s—“

”The boyfriend,” he interrupted again, this time sliding his hands around her waist. “A very possessive one, too.” 

“Dorian,” Aelin sighed. “We agreed not to tell people yet!” 

The incorrigible man shrugged. “I think it’s best that our security team knows, right?” She rolled her eyes. He continued, “Though I do think it’s a big insult that you don’t think I can protect you myself—I was killing zombies at 16, for Mala’s sake.”

“You and I both know the zombies were CGI-ed, Dori.” 

Rowan huffed under his breath. “If the two of you are done, we have a schedule to keep. We need to get to the car.” 

 The private terminal was mostly quiet, but years of being in the spotlight made her extra attuned to the amount of possible eyes that could be watching. Dorian fell into step beside her as they walked through the terminal, exiting into bright summer sunlight. A black SUV with tinted windows waited beside the curb, and as they came out of the terminal, a man in dark gray pants and a long-sleeved gray shirt, dark shades covering his eyes and a clear coil of wire trailing from the earpiece in his left ear, stepped out of the car and opened the side door. Like most of the security personnel Aelin had met in her years of having a security detail, he was fairly nondescript—averagely tall and physically fit with closely cropped brown hair and a bland, forgettable face. 

She left her suitcase for the guard to put into the back of the car and climbed in with Dorian, exhaling deeply at the comfort of the plush seats. “Damn, I could fall asleep so fast.” 

“Don’t even think about it.” Seated in one of the seats opposite Aelin and Dorian’s row, Elide handed Aelin a steaming paper cup. “We have shit to talk about, Ae.” The petite woman had been Aelin’s publicist for five years and her close friend since childhood, and she was fearsome in front of the press. 

“You are the best,” Aelin breathed, taking a sip of the double espresso in the cup. 

Elide’s lips twitched into a little smile. “We’ll see how you feel about that when I’m done telling you about tonight’s event.” She glanced down at her tablet. “Dorian texted me earlier that he’d talked to you about the strategy?” 

“You mean Lys’s brilliant, crackpot scheme to break the internet?” 

Next to Elide, Lysandra raised one perfectly threaded eyebrow. “Lady, I know you didn’t just insult my brilliance.” 

“I would never,” Aelin crooned innocently. 

Dorian snorted. “You would.” 

“Traitor.” She poked him in the ribs. 

Lys clapped her hands. “Class is now in session. Pay attention, you two.” She and Elide shared a look. “So, Dorian told both of us that he talked to you, Aelin. Have you made up your mind about the dating plan?” 

“Yes.” Aelin sipped her espresso. “I’m in.”

 “Good.” Lysandra tapped something on her tablet. “We don’t think you should jump straight into it tonight, mostly because the timing isn’t great and we don’t expect you to be able to pull off a fake hard launch after traveling for most of the day. So here’s what we were thinking: when you make your red carpet appearance, just act normal. Be the two best friends that everyone knows you are.” 

“But if you want to stay a little closer together, maybe stay side by side for all the photos and have multiple hugs, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Elide added. “The idea is that you give the press a subtle hint of what’s going to happen. Make them start to wonder if there’s anything more than friendship between the leading actors. That way, when you do launch your fake relationship, they’ll sprint back to the photos from tonight and put them up everywhere as proof that everyone missed.” 

Dorian nodded slowly. “I know I say this about once a day, but you are truly a genius, Lysandra.” 

“I know.” The publicist smirked. “Any questions?” 

“When do you want us to do the big reveal?” Aelin asked. 

Elide shrugged. “We can talk about it after the event tonight. You have a couple of free days after the trailer launch, so I was thinking that when you two go out exploring the city, you could make a point of holding hands or whatever so that people can catch those moments and start freaking out over your relationship.” 

“That sounds like you’re going to stage some photos,” Aelin commented. 

“Maybe I am.” Elide winked. “You should be expecting it by now, Ae.” 

“I really should,” Aelin chuckled. 

Dorian tilted his head to the side. “Hypothetically, what if we dropped a big hint during the screening of the trailer?” 

Lys narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by ‘big hint,’ Dor?” 

He shrugged. “I dunno, like a kiss?” 

“What part of not today did you not understand?” Lysandra sighed, but she noticed that Dorian was holding back laughter. “Are you…did you do that just to play me?” 

“Maybe.” He snickered. 

“You’re a little shit,” she laughed. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to drop you, and you’ll be running around in circles trying to figure things out.” 

He shot her an angelic smile. “Lys darling, you’re the best publicist in the world.” 

“I know.” 

The car slowed to a stop at the back entrance of a five-story sandstone building, its walls broken with elegant arches of sparkling glass and columned balconies that were often the site of romantic photoshoots. The River Mansion, a two-century-old hotel that had been remodeled to modernize its facilities while preserving its historic architecture, was possibly one of the most beautiful buildings in Velaris. Aelin had stayed there twice before, and each time, she had loved it. 

Their gray-clad security guard opened the door, and the four of them climbed out of the car, Aelin falling into step next to Dorian with the two publicists and Manon in front of them as they walked in the back entrance of the hotel. Rowan was a couple of steps ahead, and he held the door open for them like a gentleman, even though he was a grump. Inside, her feet practically sank into the plush blue carpet, but she barely had time to admire the tasteful art adorning the walls as Lys and Elide led them up to their rooms. 

In Aelin’s room, a small army of stylists had already set up shop, and she barely had time to have a proper bath before being whisked into a chair. Elide ran through her whole list of instructions for what to expect at the event as Aelin’s makeup artist and hair stylist worked their magic, transforming her from travel-tired to glowing. The puffiness under her eyes vanished beneath a layer of expertly applied concealer, and a sharp wing of black eyeliner flicked out from the corner of each eye. 

“You’re a wonder, Rin.” Aelin checked her reflection in the mirror. “I’ll never know how you do this kind of magic.” 

“It’s called makeup,” Asterin Blackbeak laughed. She’d been Aelin’s makeup artist for just over a year, and she was magical with an eyeshadow palette. 

“Ruin my fun, why don’t you?” Aelin winked at Asterin. She got up from the chair and went over to get dressed, returning once her form-fitting red silk gown was laced up her back, the slit up one leg allowing her freedom to move in the fitted skirts. Her stylist took the wide rollers out of her hair, letting it tumble down her back in a spill of glamorous waves. 

“You guys are the best,” she gushed to her team, blowing them air kisses so Asterin didn’t scream at her for messing up her makeup. 

Elide tapped one stiletto heel on the floor. “We’ve got to go, Ae.” 

With a final wave to her team, Aelin followed Elide out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. They rode down to the lobby, and the steel doors smoothly opened to reveal the usual handful of paparazzi that followed anywhere the Queen of Action Movies went. Aelin smothered a grimace and ducked her lead like she’d been trained to do, dodging as many camera flashes as possible as Elide led her towards the private side door. She caught a relieved breath as they exited. 

“You’re late,” Rowan muttered as she climbed into the car, its windows darkly tinted for privacy. “According to the schedule, we should have left ten minutes ago.” 

She shot him a glare. “One of the things you need to understand about providing security for a film actress, Rowan, is that we rarely keep to a predetermined schedule.” 

“Too busy taking fucking pictures,” he grumbled. 

“Too busy avoiding cameras, not that you would know.” She yanked the door shut, silently fuming at the audacity of that man. It was hard to tell if he didn’t have previous experience with celebrities, or if he was just an ass.

It was too bad his ridiculous attractiveness didn’t match his behavior, because if it did, Mala knows the things she’d do to him.

The screening of the trailer and the endless stream of red carpet photos went by in a blur of camera flashes and a pasted-on smile, and by the time she had a minute to breathe, Aelin was walking into Rita’s, a club that she and many of her actor peers liked, arm in arm with Dorian. They entered through a side door, a private entrance that led directly into the lounge space, allowing them to avoid most of the greedy paparazzi. 

Inside, the floor was already full of people in their best “Queen of Glass”-inspired  costumes, with the only exception the black-clad security personnel who stood at intervals around the perimeter of the lounge. Aelin herself wore a dress inspired by one of her costumes from the first season of the show—a form-fitting black minidress with a dragon embroidered in gold thread climbing up the back, its jaw opened wide and its tail curling around one hip. She wore gold jewelry to complement the dress, and her lipstick was flame red and smudge-proof. 

“Looking stunning as always,” Dorian said, appearing out of nowhere with a drink in each hand. He wore a white shirt with cobalt-blue embroidery and black leather pants, the shirt open to reveal half his chest, and a fake knife was tucked into his belt. 

She grinned at him. “Thanks, Dor.” Accepting one of the drinks, she took a sip. “Shit, that’s delicious!” 

“Fenrys is bartending.” 

“Makes sense.” She winked at him. “So you’ll be spending as much time as possible at the bar, right?” 

“Shut up.” His face flushed pink, and he elbowed her in the side. 

She laughed, poking him affectionately in the ribs. “You know I won’t tell a soul about your little crush on the bartender.” 

“Two hours.” Rowan’s curt voice cut through Aelin’s good mood. 

She scoffed. “Lighten up, Whitethorn. Rita’s is secure, as you can tell from the guards everywhere, and I’m not some teenager who snuck out of Mommy and Daddy’s house. I’ll let you know when I want to leave.” 

He scowled, and she silently cursed her panties for dampening at the sight. “You can’t be hungover at tomorrow’s events, Aelin.” He glanced at Dorian, who had a drink in each hand. “Neither of you can.” 

“Good thing I don’t plan on drinking more than this, then.” She tugged Dorian into the crowd, leaving Rowan behind. 

That tight-strung asshole was going to ruin her fucking life. 

Sensing her grouchiness, Dorian tugged her towards the side of the room. “Want to go do the photo booth?” He gave her his best big puppy eyes. “Lys and Elide said we should, but also, it would be fun.” 

“Why are you right?” she sighed, shaking the tension from her limbs. “I’m sorry, Dor, talking to that asshat is taking all of my patience.” 

“Too bad he’s so damn hot,” Dorian added, wiggling his eyebrows. 

She rolled her eyes. “I would’ve climbed him like a tree until he opened that stupid mouth of his and started poking his nose in my schedule.” 

He’s been part of the team for less than a day. What did he know about Aelin’s drinking and partying habits? Or Dorian’s, for that matter. 

“Fair.” He led her through the crowd, stopping every other minute to talk to some of the guests, that brilliant smile of his flashing as he posed for casual photos. She grinned right along with him, throwing herself into the joy that meeting her fans always brought her, and they eventually joined the line for the photo booth. 

Rowan cleared his throat beside them, and there went Aelin’s blood pressure again. He folded his arms across his chest, glaring at her and Dorian. “You two decided it’s a good idea to go inside an unrestricted booth where I can’t see you?”

“It’s only closed off by a curtain, and it’s inside a secure location. Plus, your guard dogs probably sniffed it down already.” She glared back at him. 

He refused to move. “It’s not approved, princess.” 

“Oh, for the gods’ sake.” Dorian brushed past Rowan, tugging Aelin with him into the photo booth.  “It’ll take a minute, and you can stand outside with your stopwatch if it makes you less angsty.” He winked at the stoic, brooding man and pulled the curtain shut. 

Aelin huffed as she sat down on the small plastic bench. “Thanks. I don’t know why he’s being so ridiculous; I’ve only known him for eight hours.” She watched as Dorian tapped on the screen opposite them, picking a random handful of poses, and laughed when he flopped down next to her and threw his arm around her shoulders. “What happened to platonic co-stars?” 

He snickered, grinning big at the camera as it flashed. “Hey, we’ve got to make it look good for all the big bad cameras, right?” 

“Damn right!” She jumped into his lap, giggling, as the camera flashed a second time, and they scrambled into two more poses, a tangle of hilarity, until the camera counted down for the last time and he took her face in his hands and plopped a dramatic kiss on her lips as the bright flash exploded in the small booth. 

Dorian positioned his hands just the way she liked it, without covering her face for the camera. Knowing how messy things could get off-set, it relieved her that he was thinking about how the kissing picture would look rather than the picture itself. Aelin would be lying if she said every stage kiss with Dorian had been this mechanic, but the short-lived crush she had on him at the initial stages of their first movie together quickly faded away when she realized she was into the character, not the actor.

And this? Right now, kissing Dorian was work, one piece of the narrative that belongs to Aelin’s favorite and longest-lasting character—her public persona.

Of course, Rowan chose that moment to shove his head through the curtain. 

“Time’s—ah, fuck.” He jerked backwards as suddenly as he’d broken into the booth and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, time’s up.” 

“I think that’s the most un-grumpy I’ve seen him so far,” Dorian whispered into Aelin’s ear, making her snort a laugh and smack him in the shoulder as she collected the two printed photo strips. 

“You’re a little shit,” she chuckled. She pushed aside the curtain and stepped out of the booth, immediately sidling up to Rowan’s side with a wide, innocent smile on her face. “Sorry to scandalize you, big guy.” 

He mumbled something inaudible under his breath. “I’ve seen worse, princess.” 

Aelin turned to leave, but she didn’t sense him following her, so something critical must’ve happened. She half-turned, raising an eyebrow at his parted lips and a look so intense it inflamed her skin with his poorly-concealed irritation. “Something the matter?” 

“What are you wearing?” For the first time that night, he got a proper look at her dress in all its glory, and of course it wasn’t of his liking.

Aelin spinned like an overly excited girl about her dress just to annoy him. “One of my favorite designers made it—do you know the label Maison Sellene? She’s incredible, and she got the dragon design from one of the set designers’ sketches.” 

Rowan’s eyes burned like dragonfire. “It suits you, princess.” 

Her nose wrinkled. “Stop calling me that. I told you, my team is on a first-name basis with each other.”

“Fine, Aelin.” Oh gods, his pronunciation of her name made her shiver. Dorian came back with drinks, and of course he glared at the one she took. “I thought you weren’t drinking?” 

Locking her eyes on his, she took a long sip of it. “It’s nonalcoholic.” He looked skeptical, so she pushed the glass to his lips. “If you don’t believe me, Rowan, try it for yourself.” 

He accepted the drink as if she had poisoned it before handing it to him, sniffed it and squinted his eyes at her, trying to decide if the juice and soda water smell was real or just a deceit for his nose. “Fine,” Rowan said as he handed it back to her, the short word sounding awfully close to a grunt. 

She huffed an impatient sigh and once again turned to leave, heading towards the cluster of women gesturing wildly for her to come dance with them. But she’d barely gone more than a few steps when Dorian hooked his arm through hers and pulled her to the dance floor with him, and she laughed as she looped her arms around his neck. “Are you trying to give Lys high blood pressure?” 

“I would never,” he snickered, winking widely. “Just thought this would be fun.” 

“We’ll see how you feel about that when someone posts a photo of us dancing this close on their Instagram story and the whole internet goes insane.” 

“My kind of fun.” He dipped her backwards, and when he pulled her up, both of them giggling, he swept her into his and planted a stage kiss on her lips. 

Just in time for multiple phone cameras to click. 

She chuckled and pushed him away playfully. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, ok? It’ll only take me a few minutes.” She wove her way across the room, only stopping a few times to chat with people, and she sighed with relief when she noticed that there wasn’t a line outside the ladies’ bathroom.

Once again, an arm banded around her waist. 

This time, though, that arm hauled her to the side, and the door of the janitor’s closet slammed shut behind Aelin as the man all but yanked her into the small, empty, slightly dusty space. 

She was firing Rowan so hard today.

Aelin slapped his hand out of her mouth and spun around before he could react, quickly hitting his groin with her knee. The man groaned, and she used the little time she had to grab a spray bottle—for temporary blindness if necessary—and turn on the feeble light to see who her assaulter was. 

Imagine Aelin’s surprise when she found out that her attacker was Mr. Safety himself.

Still bent due to the damage to his crotch, Rowan wheezed. “Where did you learn these moves, princess?”

Arms folded across her chest, she shot him a glare. “What the hell, Whitethorn? You almost gave me a heart attack! What’re you doing?!”

Rowan’s hand curled loosely in front of his groin, as if anticipating another blow. “I got an alert that there’s an unauthorized person in the room, and my first priority is keeping you safe from potential threats.” 

“What about Dorian?” She snapped. “Is he in less danger than me because he’s a man or something?” 

Her bodyguard opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. “He…has his own security team…” 

Aelin raised a brow. “And you’re in contact with his team? Keeping track of him? Because there’s a potential threat, or so you say.” Every single word was deeply sarcastic. 

“Of course.” Rowan pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her the screen. Several notifications were stacked up on the screen, notifications of a potential unauthorized guest in the room and brief updates about Aelin’s and Dorian’s safety. 

Some of her irritation faded away. “Fine. You might have given me at least a tiny bit of warning before you grabbed me, though.” 

His jaw clenched. “There’s not always going to be time for me to warn you, princess. The least you could do is understand that.” 

The maleness of that statement, the entitlement of his tone brought her irritation right back. “Remind me again who is employing whom? Your responsibility is my safety, as you’ve said a thousand times. Well, that includes you giving me notice so I don’t think I’m being fucking kidnapped!” Her voice cracked on the final word. 

And damn him, he noticed the crack in her demeanor. 

His stance relaxed, and concern crossed his face. “Did that happen before, Aelin?” 

Aelin’s throat felt too tight as she swallowed scattered flashbacks from a lifetime ago. As always, she forced them all back into their locked box. 

“Didn’t you read my file, Whitethorn?” Aelin knew she was being harsh, but it was a necessary measure. “You should know the answer already.”

Both of them knew that file back to back, and she knew his question went beyond that. Rowan gave her a wary look, reading her deflection far too well, but the last thing she needed was his overprotective ass deciding she was fragile.

His phone pinged, saving her from any response he might have made. He glanced at the screen and sighed softly. “There wasn’t a threat, just someone who forgot their invitation. You can go back out.” 

“About time,” she mumbled. Before he could say anything, do anything else, she pushed open the door and went back to the party, her heels snapping angrily on the floor. He stayed a good distance behind her, trailing her back to the party, and faded into the edge of the crowd, but she felt his eyes on her. 

She shook off the weight of his gaze, plastering a gleaming smile back onto her face. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the Queen of Action Movies. 

She wouldn’t let her bodyguard distract her.

~~~

TAGS: lmk if you want to be added or removed! maria and i are combining taglists for this fic so you can let her know too :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@mysterylilycheeta

[denalidear]

Sleepy

a/n: oops. forgot i said i was gonna do this whole thing. well here a little fic i wrote a while back and never posted.

summary: wil is so eepy.

word count: 886

warnings: none?

- - -

It had been a long day for him, you knew. Between streaming, working on new music, and how late the two of you had stayed up the night before; he was tired. So when you asked to cuddle and watch a movie, you had put two and two together to start your master plan. You strategically placed yourself underneath him, his head on your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Love I’m going to fall asleep if you keep on playing with my hair.” He warned, adjusting so his arms were tucked well around your torso. He yawned and leaned into you more and you smiled.

“What if I told you that was the point?” You teased, trying to contain your laugh as to not disturb the sleepy boy.

“Then I’d tell you you’d better be comfortable because I won’t be moving once I’m asleep.” He mumbled, now pulling the blanket covering you two further up his shoulders.

“Bring it on, buddy.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie while continuing your ministrations in his hair. Soon enough you felt his weight sink into you, his breath coming out in soft puffs over your neck. He had fallen asleep and your plan was a success.

-----

Wil was a sleepy guy. After the first nap he’d had cuddling with you, he requested more and more. It became a regular occurrence for him to seek you out straight after finishing a stream, only to fall asleep in your arms.

But today, he was determined to prove he didn’t need a nap. You’d dragged him all around London, going to shops and cafes. He played along happily for the first four hours, but after dinner came and went his resolve was sarting to wear thin. He happily carried your tote bag that you’d filled with the goodies you’d acrewed, but he was nearly nodding off as you sat at the station waiting for the next train home.

“Wil.” You tapped his knee, “The announcer said it’d be pulling up soon.”

“Ok.” He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into your shoulder. Soon the train pulled up and you boarded. Wil fought to stay awake as he sunk into the plush of the seat.

“Baby you can sleep on my shoulder.” You said patting his leg to comfort him.

“No, I’m not tired, I promise.” He said quietly. As miuch as you wanted to believe him, not two minuets later his head was on your shoulder and he was snoring away. You couln’t help but smile.

-----

The band said goodnight to the crowd, passing out the set list and spare picks. The main lights came up as the audience began to leave and the band got off stage. Wil came straight up to you, as was post gig tradition, for a kiss and a very sweaty hug.

“You did great, handsome!” You smiled, holding his face between your hands. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the adrenaline slowly leaving his system as his eyelids began to slouch.

“Thanks darling.” He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. You decided it was time for him to go to bed, leaving the venue in favor of the quiet tour bus. He held your hand tight as you lead him to the bunks in the back, speaking quietly about how he thought the concert had gone. You tucked him in like a little kid, teasing him about being a toddler while he laughed.

“But will you cuddle with me?” He said, grabbing your hand before you could pull away.

“Of course, baby.” You smiled, kicking off your shoes and sliding into bed. Would you regret not changing into PJ’s when you woke up? Probably. But this moment was perfect, and you wouldn’t ever pick a shower over sleeping with your boyfriend.

-----

“Chat, guess who just got home from work?” Wil smiled as he looked at the text you had just sent him, confirming you made it safely to his house. He quickly typed back a response, saying he was on stream but that you should come and visit him. He continued speaking to chat before he heard a small knock on the door.

You creeped into his office, dragging your feet after a long day of work. “Hello, love.” Your boyfriend spun around in his chair and st up to greet you. He lifted his arms to invite you onto his lap and into a hug. “How was work?”

“Good. Just tired.” You mumbled into his neck. “You can keep playing. I’ll just cuddle.” He rubbed your back and turned back around to his screen.

“Chat, my darling has had a long day, so she’s a little tired. I’ll finish this up and then we are gonna go to bed.” He smiled, reaching around your body cuddled up to his chest and began to play again.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as your head lulled back and your weight sunk into him. “I think she fell asleep.” He whispered to chat. He looked down at your peaceful face. “Yeah she’s totally out.” He giggled, keeping his voice low.

“That’s my cue to leave, friends. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got to get my love into bed, poor girl. Good night, everyone.”

[hroscek]

✎📃Dottore studying headcanons📚

Back again with more Dottore content. This is a bit of a mix between a modern au but still somehow compliant with Genshin? Idk I just wanted to write ab him studying and projecting finding inspiration in my own life without having to explain how he has access to YouTube in his akademiya days okay? Anyways enjoy and make sure to study if you happen to be procrastinating at the moment (I will know)!

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Dottore study headcanons

Probably the type that ultra-focuses on the material in front of him leading to generally neglecting any and all other needs until he physically can't anymore (nearly burnt down his dorm via hair catching fire from a candle when he fell asleep at the desk)

Thinks he's above attending lectures so he'd definitely be that one student that never shows up but still ends up acing the exams.

Fully believes that he must achieve a state of total focus to optimize his brain. This starts as threatening the other students into leaving him alone as he studies, drawing the curtains and shutting out all other distractions. Probably spent too much on finding a good noise-cancelling headset.

After getting kicked out gracefully parting ways with the akademiya he devoted some time to trying to find ways to improve his focus even more. I'm talking full blown rounds of experimentation with different methods such as binaural beats (actually works tbh), sensory deprivation tanks etc. Sort of how greater lord rukkhadevata would shut herself away to meditate, but he would never admit how similar their methods are.

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if the original Dottore is just floating in a state of meditation rn trying to achieve max brain power (legit a headcanon for me now lmao).

Seeing as he probably doesn't sleep much, especially when in the thick of experiments he tries his best to compensate in other ways. He drank an inhuman amount of coffee or energy drinks (or both at the same time tbh) until he grew a tolerance to all forms of caffeine and is now forced to actually sleep once in a while.

He is intimately familiar with is work area and instantly knows where everything is. To outsiders it looks like a mess of various documents, piles of paper, supplies and mechanical parts. Often he asks a new intern to fetch him a sheet or something and they'll spend hours looking for it in the raven's nest that man calls an office. Then he'll show up pissed as hell like "It was under the desk next to the 3rd used energy core. Are you really that stupid?".

When he's in the zone he's deathly silent, his eyes laser focused on whatever page or machine he's trying to figure out. An observer might be afraid he'll burn a hole trough the object with his eyes. This is probably the only time he doesn't wear his mask as he doesn't want anything to obstruct him. Archons couldn't help the unfortunate soul who dares to interrupt him in this state. Instant volunteer for his next experiment.

Pantalone once decided to gift him with an expensive stationery set in a desperate attempt to get him to organize his study. It included quills, ink, various highlighters and organizers all in pastels with cute motifs. "To bring some positivity to the gloomy atmosphere around you!". Dottore claimed to hate it but was seen months later using a kitten-themed notepad at one of his labs.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

Another post, another slay (probs a flop). I'm currently taking a half-voluntary gap year because I decided to switch universities a little too late in the year oops. And honestly in this time I've realized how much I thrive in the academic environment and I miss studying so much! Idk might sound a bit too optimistic coming from someone who's currently not under any pressing deadlines or tests but I really do miss it. As much as I hated crunching the night before a test and stressed about the material I believe it's an environment I truly thrive in. I really do find such comfort in being able to take notes, discuss with classmates and professors. It's probably one of the many reasons I find Dottore relatable. We both share such a thirst for knowledge and focus way too much on our favorite subjects. I'm rambling, sorry. Thank you so much for reading and please don't be shy to send me asks or comments with ideas you'd like me to expand upon. I'm still pretty new to writing in fandom space so I'd really be grateful to get feedback and see what the community wants lol.

Have a good day! ❀

[bqstqnbruin]

Ghost of You

Hello hello I'm here with a fic that might make you upset oops

This was inspired by some of @laurenairay's 1.5k follower celebration fics and Ghost of You by Five Seconds of Summer

Shoutout to @kat-hearts and @wyattjohnston for reading through this and editing/giving suggestions for this because they're amazing and then I'm tagging @matthewtkachuk and @raysofcrosby just to annoy them

Word Count: 6701

Warnings: Alcohol, Swearing, Mean

Flashbacks are in italics

_________________________________________

You told yourself it would never get serious. It was just supposed to be fun.

Yet, there you were, sitting on the floor of your bedroom feeling like you had your heart ripped out. Your friends told you not to date him, not to get close to him, that there was nothing good that could come from being with him. He wasn’t at the point of wanting to commit to anyone. You thought you wanted the same. 

He was just supposed to be a hookup. 

There was no reason why a fucking social media post should be bothering you the way it did. 

Fuck it. You had time off work banked, you had a car with a tank at least half full of gas from what you remembered, and your mom had just complained that she had hotel points she was going to lose and practically begged you to take off her hands, and you had always wanted to go to Vail, your friends telling you how much fun they had the last time they went without you. 

What better way to get over someone than by just running away from everyone else? 

Your phone was lighting up every few minutes with texts in the group chat, the one that didn’t have him in it, calls from your friends, his teammates, all of them worried about where you were and why you weren’t answering. You were glad someone was worried about you, but you couldn’t pull yourself together long enough to answer their calls or look at their texts without breaking down into that horrible, gut-wrenching sob, the kind that drove you to the point of dry heaving. 

Cale told you he liked you. He told you that he felt a way about you that he didn’t know how to put into words. He looked at you and said he could see himself with you for a while when he hadn’t thought that about anyone, at least not in a long time. 

He didn’t have to tell you he was seeing other girls and that he needed space. He didn’t  need to send the text telling you that he thought it would be better for both of you if you didn’t want to talk anymore because he didn’t want to lead you on. He didn’t have to let you believe that everything he had told you was true, letting you fall for him the way you thought he was falling for you. 

You turned your phone on Do Not Disturb, your lack of ability to know where you’re going and which way you’re heading barring you from turning off your phone completely. All you could do was grab the bag you packed for the weekend, fill up your car with gas, and hit the road for the hour and a half road trip to the hotel in Vail. 

You take one last look through your apartment, the normal “what if I left this plugged in/on and it caught on fire?” panic setting through you in the minutes before you want to leave when you notice the coffee cup sitting there on your kitchen table. 

Cale spent his first night at your place not long after you started seeing each other. You weren’t even really sure if what you were doing was considered dating by the day’s standards, just knowing you were somewhat ‘together.’ You two were out late at a bar with his teammates and some of your friends the night before, Cale insisting on walking you back to your place to make sure you were home safe, not worried about practice the next morning for once in his life. 

The two of you spent the night talking, your laptop perched at the edge of your bed, Cale with his arm pulling you close while your head rested on his chest, his heart beat making you tired with the steady rhythm. You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until his alarm was going off that following morning, the two of you entangled in each other and neither of you wanting to move from where you were. 

“You have to get ready for practice,” you whispered, feeling his arms pull you closer when you didn’t think that was possible. 

“I have time,” he murmured against your forehead, a light kiss placed there that made you melt in ways you didn’t know you could. 

“I’m not going to be responsible for you being late,” you tell him, trying to pull away. You had to start getting ready for your day, too, his alarm only making you do it much earlier than you had planned. “Plus, I need coffee.”

Cale mumbled something again, you managing to get yourself free of him, turning around to see his arms still reaching out for you to come back. “No, stay here,” he whined.

“Cale.”

“Please?” 

“I’m making coffee.” 

You laugh to yourself as you hear him calling for you, the coffee pot coming to life and the smell of the drink filling your nose, when you feel Cale’s arms snake around your waist, planting soft kisses along your neck and working his way up to your jaw. You turned your head slightly towards him, his grip tightening as his lips find yours. You turn your body completely to face him, your back arching against the counter as he kisses you harder, a smile on his lips as they make their way back down your neck, your hands making their way to his hair as a small groan leaves his lips when you give it a slight tug. 

“I don’t want to leave,” he tells you, another kiss planted on your lips. 

“You have to, though,” you lament, the coffee behind you finally ready. You turn around with his arms still around you, reaching for the cabinet where you keep an unnecessary amount of mugs that are almost never used. “Which one do you want?”

You held in front of him the two most ridiculous mugs that you had, knowing that the laugh about to come out of him would easily be your new favorite sound. One mug was made in the shape of a bulldog’s head, something your dad claimed he got when he was visiting a friend at Georgetown, but there’s no way a university with that much intelligence would sell something like that, the other one something that had to be given at a retirement party or a memorial service or something, an old man named ‘Randall’ plastered on it in various states of adulthood with the dates 1960-2020 written on it. 

“You know, Serina told me about these,” he starts, holding back more laughter and referring to your best friend. “But, she really didn’t do them justice.” 

“Whichever one you pick is yours , the unofficial ‘Cale’ mug of my apartment.” 

He laughed, kissing you again in a way that made you want him to keep doing it forever. “I guess I’ll take Randall?” 

You meant to throw out the mug, donate back to the thrift store that you got it from a few years ago since Cale was the only one in your apartment who was allowed to use it. Every time he was over, it was out on the table. Every time he left, it was in your dishwasher to be cleaned for the next time he was coming. You didn’t even remember putting it on the table. 

You swallow hard, putting the mug in the corner of your kitchen where a pile of his stuff that you didn’t want to look at already sat. 

Your phone lights up, one of your friends using the ‘notify anyway,’ feature that made your blood boil. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. They all had your location, they could see where you were.

Driving was your least favorite thing to do, avoiding it at all costs, so the fact that you even thought you were going to take a road trip by yourself on the premise of ignoring everyone you could talk to, was baffling. Just you and your thoughts with only the road to distract you.

The little tv screen on the gas station started talking to you, one of those stupid commercials that probably didn’t pay their actors enough making more noise than any car on the street. The commercial couldn’t bother you as much as what you forgot was in the back seat of your car, the Stanley Cup playoffs sweatshirt Cale gave to you sitting there, slightly faded and probably incredibly dirty having rarely been washed, staring back at you like it was taunting you. 

The night before the game, Cale was a wreck. He was in his hotel room in Boston, he called you panicking, pacing back and forth on the hotel carpet. “What happens if we lose?”

“Then you come back and win game seven at home,” you tried to reassure him. 

“What if we lose because of me?”

“Has that happened before?”

“No specific examples that I can think of come to mind, but what if I blocked them out because of the trauma?”

You bit your lip, finding it weirdly endearing that he was this nervous about the game. You knew how much was riding on this, the Avs down 3-2 in the series, meaning this was win that game and force the even more nerve wracking game seven, or lose and hope for next year. “While that is totally valid,” you started, “In the time that I have known you, you have not been the reason the team lost a game.” 

“What if-”

“Cale,” you cut him off, “I get that you’re nervous, but you know the best way to go to sleep before a game is to be calm.”

“Easier said than done,” he huffed.

“I know. What can I do to help?”

He stays silent for a minute, the pacing finally stopping. “Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“I wish you could be here for the game tomorrow.” 

You felt your heart break, knowing that the one thing he apparently wanted was the one thing you couldn’t give him. “Cale,” you breathe out. 

“There’s a flight from Denver to Boston tomorrow morning that would get you here before we’re done with practice.” 

“You’re looking at flights for me?” 

“If you want to. I’d pay,” he offered.

“Cale, I can’t let you do that,” you started. You weren’t together. You were just supposed to be hooking up, and the fact that he was about to pay how much money for you to get on a flight to see him halfway across the country was something you didn’t do for someone you were just hooking up with. You hadn’t even been to one of his games yet. Only some of his teammates knew you two even knew each other. “I can’t get the time off work with this short of notice unless I have a doctor’s note.” He had to know it was a lie, you feeling a pinch in your chest when the silence on the other end of the line went longer than you had wanted it to. “I’m sorry.”

He cleared his throat, finally, your heart breaking with the sound. You knew he was disappointed. You wanted to make him feel better, but this was too much right now. You still hadn’t even had the conversation about what you were to each other. “No, no, I forgot, sorry. It’s fine.”

“Cale-”

“Hey, I gotta get going,” he tells you, hanging up on you before you can say anything else.

You weren’t wrong, were you? It would have been amazing to fly out on short notice to see a game where your favorite team won the cup. To be there with a player you were dating? Even better. But you weren’t dating him. You liked him, sure. What’s not to like about this perfect guy, an incredibly sweet person who you feel lucky enough to know, your heart skipping a beat whenever his name shows up on your phone screen, when you hear your friends or coworkers mention his name in conversation, only a few of them knowing that you were seeing him in any capacity. 

You had the sudden urge to call him back, tell him that you weren’t going to say fuck it to work and that you would be there waiting for him when he was done with practice. Your finger hovered over his name in your call log, the outgoing call could show up on your screen in a matter of seconds if you just pressed the button. 

You couldn’t do it. 

That would be something you did if you were his girlfriend and you wanted to go see him in one of the biggest games of his career. You would do it if what you had with him was serious, or you at least knew for sure how you felt about each other, you knew where this was going. You had no answers and now was not the time to find them out when the guy you needed the answers from was busy pacing back and forth in a hotel room and probably on his way to vomiting. 

The next night, you were with your friends in a shitty bar watching them, the black and gold logo at center ice mocking you as the score was 4-0. The camera panned over Cale, the bar too loud to hear what the announcers were saying, but you knew it wasn’t good. They were saying the exact things Cale was worried about the night before, that he wasn’t playing his best and that it was his fault they weren’t winning the game. There was minimal chance of recovery for them at this point, and while it wasn’t impossible, Boston had done it before, the Avs hadn’t to your knowledge. The game looked like it was about to end, a shutout loss for the team in the game that could have kept their hopes alive. 

The camera flashed back over to Cale, his mouth covered by his glove as he fought back tears. This was supposed to be their year. It was supposed to be them winning the cup.

You left the bar before the game was fully over, the image of Cale in tears enough to make you do the same. You shouldn’t be this broken up over a boy you weren’t seeing. There was no need to be this broken up over him. 

You started walking home, the air cooling down as it got later in the night. You felt your phone vibrating, expecting it to be one of your friends asking you where you went. 

Cale’s name flashed on your phone, your heart racing. You were afraid to answer it. What were you going to do if he was crying on the other end of the call, if you could hear the guys in the background also upset. You weren’t sure you could take it. 

You reluctantly answer, letting out a weak hello in anticipation of him being upset. 

“You should have been here,” he said, an angry tone in voice that you weren’t expecting. 

“What?”

“You should have been here,” he repeated, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “I spent the entire game wishing you were here, that I could look up to the box and know you were there even if I couldn’t see you, and it fucked me up. We lost because of me. We lost because you weren’t there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you spit, “I told you I couldn’t come. How is it my fault I can’t just leave my job?”

“You should have been here,” he tells you a third time, his voice raised this time, “Up in the box with all the wives and girlfriends.”

“I guess I would have to be a wife or a girlfriend to be there, then, huh?” You hung up before he could say anything else, a sob escaping your body that you didn’t even know you had in you. 

Cale spent the rest of the night trying to reach you, texting, calling, dming on social media, any form of communication you ever had between each other was being used by him while you ignored him. 

How dare he blame you for the team losing the game. He wasn’t the only person on the team, and he wasn’t even on the ice for three of the goals. It wasn’t his fault they lost, and it definitely wasn’t yours, either. 

You fell asleep angry, your phone never ceasing to be lit up by Cale’s constant attempts to reach you. He had family he could call, someone else he could contact. Anyone besides you, the person he was hooking up with in a way that wasn’t supposed to be serious. 

You woke up the next morning, unsure if the pounding was from the brutal hangover made worse by your bad mood, or if someone was trying to break down your door. You get out of bed, sure to mention a few expletives while you make your way to your door to find Cale standing on the other side, eyes bloodshot and his face looking pale. 

“I’m sorry.”

You stood there, staring at him, trying to process him being there in the first place. You clench your jaw, trying to stay with the same attitude you had the night before. “You should be.” 

You invite him in, Cale finding his way to your couch. You sit on the opposite side, trying to position yourself as far away as possible. “That was unfair of me,” he started. You sit there, waiting for him to continue. “I shouldn’t expect stuff like that from you when we aren’t, you know,” his voice trailed off.

He should just say it to you, tell you that you weren’t actually his girlfriend. You wanted to hear it from him, even if it was going to rip your heart out in the process. 

“I like you, Cale. A lot,” you told him.

“I like you, a lot, too,” he said, shifting himself so he was sitting right next to you. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to kiss the side of your head. You wanted more from him, more than just the confirmation that you liked each other. You had been playing this game for more than a month now, that stupid hook up turning serious when you weren’t supposed to get this close. 

“I brought you something,” he broke the silence that had fallen between the two of you. He pulls the sweatshirt off his body, the one that he had been wearing for the last month and a half or so, the one that was for the playoffs that each player got. “You keep stealing my sweatshirts when you stay over, I figured I would give you one, instead.” 

That fucking sweatshirt. You jump when the pump clicks off, momentarily forgetting that you were outside a gas station at that very moment. You could just throw the sweatshirt out, the trash right there between the pumps. You take the sweatshirt out of your backseat, standing there in front of the trash can longer than you probably should. You couldn’t throw it out. You pop your trunk, throwing it behind your bag that was sitting there waiting to be in a hotel room with you, relaxing and far away from everyone. 

What else did you have to do besides drive to the hotel at this point? You check your phone one last time before you hit the road, the notifications not stopping as your friends start to panic when they watched you leave the house, your ‘Find My Friends’ feature showing them you were at the gas station. 

‘I’m fine, just need to get away,’ you send them, not wanting to give them anymore. 

You scroll through the rest of the notifications, your mom the only person who really knew where you were going. You see a notification from Nate, one of Cale’s teammates and one of Serina’s best friends, a missed call for the first time in who knows how long. 

You try to ignore the notification, that one sticking out to you more than the rest. Plugging in the directions to the hotel, you finally start driving towards Vail. 

Everyone around you was beyond shit faced. The Avs were about to start training camp, the last party someone thought to throw at one of their houses before they had to get back to work after the previous season. They were out for blood, but first they were out of alcohol. 

It was a surreal experience to be the most sober person in a room. You weren’t able to operate machinery or make big decisions in any capacity, but you at least were sure you were going to remember the rest of the night. 

You were sitting on the couch by yourself, scrolling through your Instagram feed, trying to ignore the fact that Cale was on the other side of the room, flirting with some girl one of the other guys brought. 

He had the right to. You still weren’t exclusive, still not calling each other anything more than the person you were hooking up with. You weren’t seeing anyone else, but you hadn’t told him that. You didn’t even want to ask if he was seeing anyone else. That was only going to lead to you being upset. And while you’re drunk, you shouldn’t be upset. Because when you’re upset and drunk, you were bound to make a stupid decision.

No matter what was on the screen in front of your face, you couldn’t help but look up at Cale. You knew he saw you. You knew you were right in his line of sight. You had caught him looking over at you a few times already, a stupid smirk on his face that made your blood boil. He knew what he was doing. 

Motherfucker.

“You called?” Nate said, plopping down next to you with such force your phone falls out of your hands and onto the floor. When you look at him confused, he continued, “You said, ‘motherfucker,’ so I made a bad joke.”

“I didn’t know I said that out loud,” you admit. 

Nate laughed, loudly, or at least, loud enough to make the heat rush to your cheeks, and enough for Cale’s attention to finally turn to you for more than a second. The smirk on his face immediately turned to a scowl when he saw Nate, probably sitting too close to you for his own comfort. 

“So what’s up with you and Cale?” Nate asked. You shrug, hating that you had to have this conversation yet again after having to have it with your friends who knows how many times. “He’s not your boyfriend, though, is he?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not at all.” 

A sickening smile grew on Nate’s face, his arm snaking away around your waist. “Is this ok, then?” he whispered. 

You could see Cale’s face getting red from here, watching Nate flirt with you like he was. Nate knew what he was doing. The entire team knew what you and Cale were up to, there’s no way he didn’t know. “Yes,” you said. 

Nate got as close to you as he could, pulling you so you were practically sitting in his lap. “What about this?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Yes,” you told him again, turning your head to face him, his lips tantalizingly close to you. You glance to the side, Cale’s entire body now turned towards you and Nate. You didn’t want to kiss his teammate, which was where it looked like this was going, but if it made Cale feel anything about you, you were sure it was worth it. 

Before you could process what was going on, Nate’s lips were on yours, moving fast in the way that Cale’s always did at first, that urgency and hunger that he had for you showing with how he couldn’t wait to have your entire body touching his. 

He wasn’t Cale, though. He was Nate, not Cale. 

The only thing going through your mind was that he wasn’t Cale. 

You pull away just as fast as Nate had pulled you in, managing to get out of his grip and got off the couch as fast as you could. You ran to the nearest door you could get into upstairs, your heart racing as you searched to see if you were the only one in the room. You couldn’t have someone in there watch you break down over a guy. 

You waited in the room for what felt like forever, the stupid drunk part of you thinking that Cale would come through the door to see you. Or at least Nate would check to make sure you were ok. 

Neither of them came. 

You felt like you were already driving for hours, when it really was just twenty minutes alone with your own thoughts. How were you supposed to get away from everything when it seemed like everything you saw reminded you of a fucking guy? 

Your music wasn’t enough to keep your thoughts away from Cale, every one with lyrics about being in love or about feeling like you weren’t good enough. Why were those the only two moods you felt? 

Your stomach starts to make noises, suddenly remembering that you hadn’t eaten anything since the afternoon before at work, wondering how well you could navigate the roads of whatever small town you were driving through at that moment to find food. You reprogram your GPS quickly, a diner about five minutes off the exit of the highway. You weren’t even sure what you wanted, you just knew you had to have something. 

A waitress comes over to where you sat down, ordering a burger and fries since it was the only thing you could comprehend as something you’d eat while you tried to figure out why the place seemed vaguely familiar. 

Diners had a weird place in your mind. They were the place where you went at 2 in the morning with your friends after a drunk night, where you went for cheap food and lots of it for breakfast at noon or later after a drunk night, or where you got something quick to eat before getting drunk that night. You could probably count on one hand the number of times you had been to a diner where alcohol wasn’t involved at some point around going. 

Cale had texted you that night that he wanted you to come over. You did, because of course you did. You wanted to see him, and apparently he wanted to see you. You spent the night together, waking up with his arms wrapped around you, his bare chest pressed against your back and his breath tickling the back of your neck. Every time you woke up like this, you couldn’t help but feel like you could fall for him harder than you already did, like you could be with him more than you already were. 

Cale stirred awake, mumbling something against your neck after pressing a sweet kiss against your skin. You turn over, stretching and yawning as he finally released you from his grasp. 

“Wow,” he said, his raspy voice making your heart skip a beat. He stared at you for a second before continuing, “You are beautiful.”

You didn’t know what to say to him, leaning over to him to kiss him as the only response you could think of. You wanted this to be more with him. 

“Hey, can we,” you started, not entirely sure where you were going to end up. 

“Let’s get breakfast,” he said before you could finish, jumping out of bed and throwing a shirt on. He handed you one of his sweatshirts, it hanging on you and hugging you with his smell. You still had the sweatshirt he had given you up in your apartment, sitting on your bed and afraid to wash it because you didn’t want to lose that scent. 

He drove you outside the city, a small diner that you had never heard of. Everything was shockingly blue, the seats, the tables, the walls, you were sure the lighting also was as well. 

“How do you know about this place?” you asked him as you slid across from each other in the booth, confused as to why he would bring you here, of all places, when there were plenty of breakfast places within walking distance of his apartment, 

He shrugged, reaching across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb aimlessly tracing the back of your hand. “I found this place my first year here. I come here when I want to get away from the city but can’t really get away for any meaningful amount of time. It’s kinda special to me.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Him taking you to a place that was special? That had to mean something, right? “I’m honored, then,” you blushed. He had never really taken you anywhere in public, not without your friends or his teammates. Was this a date? 

“I’ve taken some of the guys here, too,” he told you, releasing your hand to look through the menu. “Nate’s favorite thing, surprisingly, is the banana walnut french toast.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of his teammate known for having an incredibly strict and almost grossly healthy diet, having something that sounded so sickeningly sweet with a cinnamon maple syrup and whipped cream on it as the menu description told you. 

Your mind jumps back to that night with Nate, wondering in that moment what he was doing, who he had woken up next to, where he was spending the morning of his off day. 

Would you have gone further with Nate if Cale weren’t right there? Would you have had anything with Nate at all if Cale weren’t there?

That’s why the diner was familiar to you: Cale had brought you here plenty of times since that day. It was your breakfast ‘date’ place, even though he never actually had an answer for you when you tried to ask him if they were dates. He avoided the question at every chance, never wanting to commit to anything more than that. 

A couple sitting at the other end of the diner, sitting on the same side of the booth, sharing a plate of fries and looked at each other as if no one else existed around them. 

You hated them.

You and Serina somehow ended up at a restaurant downtown that you had never been before, and from the looks of the menu, it made sense why you weren’t there ever. It was way more expensive than any other place you had ever been, even a simple salad being more than what you were really willing to spend on a bowl of lettuce. 

“Why are we here?” you whispered to your friend, slightly mad that she would bring you here without telling you where you were going first. She had to know you would never have agreed to a place like this if she told you ahead of time. 

Serina gives you a look that told you she’s up to something, something that you were sure you were going to hate. “You’ll see.”

“What does that mean?”

“Can you relax? This is supposed to be a nice treat for you.”

“Oh, so you’re paying?”

Serina scoffed, your anxiety spiking instantly. “No.”

“Well I can’t afford this and I don’t think this is a great treat if I’m expected to pay.”

“No, you’re not paying.” 

“Well the only other option is something illegal, and neither of us would survive in prison if we commit a felony.” 

“I don’t think skipping out on our bill would land us in prison.” The entire time, Serina didn’t look up from her menu, your heart racing and the prospect of what she had planned. Her phone lit up on the table, a call from someone you couldn’t make out showing on her screen. “Oh, hey, I’ll be right back.”

Before you could argue, Serina was gone, the phone to her ear and you left alone in a place you didn’t want to be. You start looking around; you could just get up and walk out the door. Serina took her bag with her, so it was just you at the table and your waiter or waitress hadn’t even come over to you yet. It wasn’t illegal to sit at a table for a little bit. They willingly lead you there. 

“Hey,” you heard from behind you, a hand placed gently on your shoulder that still made you jump. 

You turned to see who it was, expecting it to be Serina rejoining you at the table. “Nate?” 

The burger came, no one on the other side of you like there was that night, the couple across the diner still mocking you without them realizing it. You hadn’t expected Nate to show up, for him and Serina to be planning that little swap between the two of them since that night at the party. You especially hadn’t expected him to apologize for not chasing after you that night like he thought he should have. He saw Cale, instead, who asked him why he was talking to you that night, if you had talked before. 

Apparently Cale had dropped the conversation as quickly as it started, the girl he was talking to while you were on the couch with Nate taking his hand and dragging him off somewhere else. 

The food was still sitting in front of you, completely untouched. You check your notifications, your friends still trying to figure out why you up and left the way you did. 

If you were being honest, you weren’t a hundred percent sure. Something inside of you broke when you were scrolling social media, his post shattering your heart in ways you didn’t know was possible. You didn’t know why you were feeling this way, this was just supposed to be a hookup. 

“Why were you with him?” Cale had texted you that he was on his way over, not giving you anything else when you asked him why. As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, he pushed past you, his face red and his voice loud. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Why were you with Nate the other night?” 

“Serina planned a date for us.”

“How could you cheat on me?”

You stood there, shocked, feeling all the anger that Cale was feeling and more. “What the fuck are you talking about? We aren’t together. You’ve made that very clear to me.” 

“We are together. We’re seeing each other,” he tried to defend himself. 

“Really?” you scoffed. “Because last time we even talked about what we are to each other, all we could say was that we liked each other. That was months ago Cale, and all we’ve done is had random hook ups here and there, getting together when you want to, talking to each other when you have the time. If you wanted to be with me, you would have taken me on a date like Nate did fucking ages ago.” 

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? No, Cale, what’s not fair is you leading me on all this time.” 

It was apparently Cale’s turn to scoff, turning his head so he wasn’t even looking at you as he rolled his eyes. “Leading you on?”

“Yeah,” you practically screamed back at him. “You tell me you like me, and then you do nothing to show it. You take me to that random fucking diner and refuse to call it a date, you never take me anywhere, and what about the time when you told me I should fly to Boston to be there for the game on a moments notice? You act like you care about me when it seems convenient for you.” 

“What about you?” he spit back, “We both agreed that this would never be serious, so sorry if I kept my promise.” 

“Get out,” you yelled. You felt tears coming on, and the last thing you were going to do was cry in front of him. 

“I,” he started, taking a step towards you. 

You jerk back, startling Cale in the process. “Get out of my fucking apartment,” you yell again, Cale storming off before you can process what even really happened. You plop yourself on the couch, the shock of whatever that fight was hitting you like a tsunami, letting out a violent sob that your neighbors could probably hear. 

That couple looked so happy. God, it made you sick. 

You pay your tab without eating the food, your appetite leaving you just as fast as you got out of the building. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t recognized all the blue in that building. Cale had taken you on that route who knows how many times before. 

The rest of your drive passes without you actually paying attention. You felt like you were on autopilot even though you were driving somewhere you had never been before. 

The resort your mom had told you about was beautiful, the king bed once you got into your room calling your name. You flopped down on the soft mattress, finally letting out a breath as you felt all your worries melting away. You throw your phone in your bag, hoping that was enough for you to not think about it as you just laid there and relaxed.

Cale had just texted you that he didn’t think what you had could go any further, especially after the fight the two of you had. The worst part? You didn’t care. 

What you did care about was that he had told you by telling you that you weren’t the only person he was seeing. He told you maliciously, as if that was an out for him. You two weren’t serious, it was never meant to be serious after all, just like your friends had said it wouldn’t be. 

You hated yourself for thinking they were all wrong. 

“What are you thinking about?” Serina asked you, pulling you away from the texts that you were rereading for what had to be the hundredth time from Cale. 

“Men fucking suck.” 

“Hey, you found a good one, though.”

You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your sadness from earlier in the day draining your energy more than you thought it would. You only woke up because you heard knocking at your door. 

You groggily shuffle to the door, opening it without checking through the peephole even though you probably should have. 

“Nate?” 

Before saying anything, he pulls you in for a hug, a sigh of relief coming out as he planted a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m fine with you needing to get away for any reason, but next time can you tell me you’re going instead of me having to find out from your mom?” 

“Sorry,” you mumble against his chest, his smell instantly calming you. 

He pulls you into your room, a bag you didn’t notice before dragging behind him. “I’ll leave if you want me to, if you really need to be alone.”

“No,” you say, plopping down on the bed, Nate following suit, “I’m fine with you being here. I like that you’re here.” 

He pulls you close again, his arm around your waist. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” You stay silent. Nate knew you better than anyone, so he had to know what happened. “You saw Cale’s post.” 

You hated that a stupid Instagram post from Cale still had this much power over you. There was no reason why him getting engaged should crush you when you had been dating Nate for almost two years. 

Nate sits silent after you nod, trying to figure out what to say. “He really did a number on you, huh?” You nod, not sure where to even begin with your words. “What does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know.” 

[loki-cees-all]

Chapter 3 - Then With the Eyes Shut {TLTGYA - Post-TVA!Loki x OFC Longfic}

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Loki is trying his best to just ignore his new cellmate, but she’s really not making it easy for him. 

Chapter W/c : 4.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Heavy angst, again. Oops! 

Author's Note : Sorry this chapter is so late! It’s a long story, but I got kicked through a Time Door and was temporarily lost to time. Anyway - hope you all enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for reading! 

18+ Only - Minors DNI

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Loki had never been one to loathe his own nightmares; he needed their reminder, and he craved the pain they caused. But the nightmares had betrayed him - forcing him into revealing his presence to his new cell mate, and so he was absolutely cursing them now. 

He’d forced himself to look away before responding to her query about escaping, and while he hadn’t directly witnessed her disappointment and confusion, he had felt them. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Loki resented having to admit out loud that he’d rather stay there in that horrible place, that his reluctance to leave was probably going to damn her as well. 

She was an innocent bystander, someone who didn’t deserve the danger and chaos and death that followed Loki wherever he went. But he knew she was doomed the moment she entered his presence, whether they stayed or left. 

The woman had made several more attempts to communicate after he laid back down, and Loki had ignored every one of them. But he didn’t dare fall back asleep; he was bound to have another nightmare, and having another person there to witness its aftermath was just too intimate, and too much for him to deal with, on top of everything else. 

So he just continued laying on his side, his dark cloak pulled tight around him and his forearm curled underneath his head, and his eyes open but not seeing as he listened to the dungeon sounds that he had grown painfully accustomed to. The water droplets and distant screams were almost comforting at this point, but the sound of the woman’s quiet sobs and prayers for assistance were most certainly not. 

Loki couldn’t blame her for them, though - she had every right to be frightened. He could feel her muscles tensing up with every scream in the distance, with every footstep of the guards down the hallway. And for some reason, her anguish was much harder to deal with than the ones of his previous cell mates. 

He told himself it was just because she was the only one who ever knew he was there, and that he just needed to be patient for another two or three days, because eventually the guards would come for her. Eventually, she’d be put out of her misery, and Loki would be able to nightmare in peace once again.

Until then, Loki would continue to suffer while awake. Keeping his heavy eyelids open was an enormous effort, and shifting his position on the floor felt like trying to push cinder blocks against an ocean’s current. He never would have guessed that simply lying down would be so exhausting. 

Not even the rigorous warrior training he was obligated to endure under Odin’s guidance had been this depleting, and while he hadn’t necessarily been conscious during the horrors inflicted upon him on Knowhere, his body had still suffered tremendously. 

Just how long had he been awake anyway? There were no windows in his cell, no sunrise or sunset to witness, and mercifully, no clocks to mark the passage of time. That had been his favorite part about this place, back when there was nothing to look forward to and nothing to dread. 

It was peculiar that they hadn’t come for her yet. No one else, other than him, had ever survived for this long. What exactly were the guards waiting for?

Loki clenched his jaw and sighed in frustration. He didn’t want to ask questions - even to himself - and he certainly didn’t want answers; they just made doing nothing that much harder, and it wasn’t the kind of punishment he had been seeking in the first place. 

All he could do was remind himself that this was all temporary. He didn’t know or care if the universe was trying to offer or taunt him with a chance at redemption, but he wasn’t going to fall for it again. The opportunity - or the illusion - would eventually pass, just like all the other times he had tried and failed, and soon he’d be able to return to his nightmares.

For the most part, he dreamt about running; from himself, from truth and lies and pain and respite. From villains and heroes as they chased him down endless hallways with countless doorways. And whenever he stopped to open them, each one led to the memory of a time he could have made the right decision and didn’t - when he could have just not snuck the Frost Giants into Asgard, when he could have just stayed in the Void with his other variants, or any time he could have just not picked up the Tesseract - 

Loki gasped violently, and his eyes flew open in a panic - he had started to fall asleep again. He immediately froze in place, listening for signs that the woman had heard the disturbance. But she didn’t move or speak, and Loki was grateful for that. 

His lungs heaved for air and his heart thudded painfully in his chest as he desperately tried to calm himself down, and his jaw set in place as he forced his eyes to focus on the cracks of the stone before him. The most prominent one was deep, chiseled and eroded away by years of water and pain. Smaller cracks branched out from the primary fault, some above it and some below, just like the doomed offshoots from the Sacred Timeline. 

He couldn’t help but wonder - were those branches still being pruned? Or were they allowed to continue, drifting and splitting in countless directions with endless opportunities for variants of He Who Remains to come into power? To declare war against the others? To destroy and conquer everything in their sight in pursuit of their own narcissism? 

Before he knew it, his eyes were filled with tears. He hadn’t driven the knife into He Who Remains, but he might as well have. The failure was on him, and the countless lives that would be ruined whether the TVA continued pruning or the dangerous variants were allowed to come into power was his burden to bear. His glorious purpose…

This wasn’t working - sleep only led to nightmares, and staring at the wall only invited rumination. His mind wasn’t in his own control, Loki’s muscles were aching and screaming for a change in position, the damn TVA belt was digging painfully into his belly, and as much as he didn’t want the woman witnessing his nightmares, he definitely didn’t want her to know he was weeping. 

Loki needed a different kind of distraction, and since he had no previous history with the woman, perhaps she could be the right kind. 

It was excruciating, but Loki did it anyway. He placed his palm flat on the stone floor and carefully pushed himself upright, his joints creaking and popping uncomfortably after months of disuse. Moving slowly and cautiously, and stifling multiple groans of pain, he finally managed to bring himself into a sitting position. He was still hiding in the shadows, still unwilling to expose himself, and he leaned back against the stone with a heavy sigh. 

His long legs were outstretched before him, one ankle crossed over the other, and his hands were folded neatly in his lap and underneath the dark cloak. Physical pain was temporarily assuaged, and he waited patiently for his green eyes to adjust to the meager shift in lighting conditions. 

It had been a long time since he had looked at this side of the cell, and not much had changed; the hallways were still sparsely illuminated with poorly-maintained lanterns, the stone walls were still grizzled and filthy, and the bars were still aged and corroded. There was nothing new to see, and nothing new to feel, and inevitably, his gaze migrated over to his new cellmate. 

She was still in the same position as when he had last looked at her, knees pulled to her chest and huddled against the opposite corner of the cell. She even wore the same expression of despair and anguish as before, except she had somehow managed to fall asleep. Her eyes were now closed, and she was breathing in and out slowly, and that was the only reason Loki felt comfortable looking closer. 

The woman’s fiery red hair, woven into one long braid slung over her shoulder, glowed in the lantern light; in any other conditions, her hair would have been stunning, but in here, it was just tragic. A long and thin chain hung around her neck, the links hooked together to support whatever gem or stone her fingers was wrapped around, clinging to it like it was magically going to transport her to safety. 

In that same hand, Loki could see she clutched the small blade of an unused dagger, its blade free of chips and jagged edges, and her other arm was hidden inside her dark cloak. 

Loki found himself wondering who she used to be before she was brought here, and what she had done to deserve it. He had always prided himself on being a quick study, an expert on reading between the lines of who people were, of what they craved - and more importantly - what they lacked.  

He was always able to use that skill to his advantage - but Loki was stumped with this one. Her clothes, black leather and dark green cloth, were relatively clean and well-tailored. The dungeon guards could be after money, but that seemed unlikely while her jewelry and weaponry were left untouched. And as far as he knew, there was no extortion happening in this place - only death, perpetuated by mysterious guards, who for all Loki knew, were simply doing this for fun. 

As if on cue, the sound of clinking keys echoed from down the hallway. Surprisingly, Loki felt no relief at the sound, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on the footsteps of her reapers coming to collect what they were owed; except it wasn’t the usual pair of guards moving down the hallway, it just was one of them. 

His brow furrowed, and his eyes cracked open just as the lone guard came into view and paused before the cell door. The guard held some sort of tray, balanced in one hand while the other pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and began to unlock the cell door. It was only then that the woman startled awake. 

She gasped in fear as she scooted back away from the door, pushing herself with her feet and trying to find a safe distance within the confines of their cell. She still clutched her dagger tightly, instead of using it to fight, and Loki, still hidden in the shadows, remained unmoving as the guard stepped inside and carefully placed a tray of food on the floor. 

Loki couldn’t believe it. After how many weeks and months, how many prisoners and deaths, not once had he ever encountered anyone being fed here. Not once had the guards kept anyone around long enough to even warrant feeding. 

In fact, it was the first time Loki had ever gotten a good look at any of them. The guard moved slowly and with purpose, dressed head to toe in black clothing that lacked any markings or indications as to who he worked for, or what their goal was. The mask he wore was flat and expressionless, tinted with ochre and had two thin cutouts for the eyes and none for the mouth. 

And even with the mask obscuring his features, the guard radiated animosity towards the woman as he lingered in the cell - as if he completely despised her, even as he was feeding her. 

The guard finally backed out of the cell and relocked the door, and the woman eyed the tray suspiciously, conflicted between wanting to trust the food, but not wanting to be poisoned either. She didn’t seem to notice the guard’s covered face turning as he moved down the hallway, still staring at her from underneath the mask as he walked away. 

Loki’s brow furrowed as he turned his attention back to the woman. She carefully placed the dagger on the stone floor and inched her fingers forward to reach for the tray, her green eyes still transitioning between apprehension and hunger in the face of the unappealing food that had been delivered by her captors. 

The tray contained a bowl of grains, soggy and mushy and almost certainly cold, and next to it sat a hunk of bread, the age of which was undeterminable. No one would ever choose this as a meal, but it was probably the only food she’d seen in days - and Loki, months. But her apprehension hung heavy in the air, suffocating him like the unanswered questions he was dying to ask. 

“They wouldn’t have bothered with imprisonment if they were going to poison you. Just eat it.”

The woman practically leapt out of her skin at the sound of Loki’s voice, like she had forgotten he was there. She shrank back against the wall, gasping for breath and scanning the cell wildly. “Oh, now you wish to talk?!” 

Loki’s expression remained impassive as he looked back at her. “Your unease was distracting. Just eat it,” he repeated coolly.

After a moment, she swallowed hard and nodded as she slowly pulled the tray closer to her. “Right, of course. Obviously poisoning me now would really be crossing a line…” 

The woman smiled sarcastically as she spoke, and the corners of Loki’s mouth twitched underneath his stoic expression. Maintaining a sense of humor under these conditions was an impressive feat - another item to add to his growing list of questions - and he decided it might be worth it to give in to the curiosity. It would be a temporary reprieve from the nightmares, and Loki knew they were still waiting for him - but they could hold on just a little bit longer. 

The woman cleared her throat as she carefully picked up the spoon with her right hand and dragged it clumsily through the porridge. Loki noticed that her other arm was still hidden within her cloak, and that her eyes flitted nervously between the dagger on her tray, her only weapon to defend herself, and the spoon, the only tool she had to feed herself. 

So they kidnap her, break her dominant arm…and now they’re feeding her…

None of it made sense. Clearly they intended to keep her alive - albeit broken - for a long time, but for what purpose? Loki hated that he wanted to know, that he couldn’t resist the puzzle pieces sitting before him. He had come here to suffer, not to play games, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. “Who are you?” 

The woman’s expression softened, and she looked towards him in the shadows. “My name is - ”

“No, I’m not asking for your name,” Loki replied, staring intently at her from the shadows and doing his best to ignore the optimism on her face. “Who are you to the guards?” 

“Me? I’m…nobody,” she laughed nervously as she twirled the spoon through the porridge. 

Loki cocked his head as he leaned forward. There had to be some explanation as to why they would go through the effort to capture but not kill her. “Then why are they feeding you?” 

The woman turned her head to look in his direction, her green eyes narrowed as they searched the darkness for his. “I don’t know. Why aren’t they feeding you?” 

Loki chuckled to himself; he wasn’t interested in answering questions, but he couldn’t help but admire the way she was dodging his. It had been quite a long time since he had found something so intriguing, and for a moment he almost forgot about the horrors that usually unraveled whenever he pulled on a thread. 

“I already know why they aren’t feeding me. What I don’t know is why you’re getting special treatment from the masked guards.” 

The woman’s expression shifted from irritation to concern as she set the spoon back down into the bowl. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?” 

Loki wasn’t expecting the change in her tone, or for anyone to bother showing interest in him ever again. He looked down at his hands in his lap as they fidgeted with each other. “Why? What difference does that make?”

“I was just wondering if the reason you’re so moody is because you’re…hungry.”

He swallowed hard, baffled by her conclusion and consideration. Loki was hungry, that much was true, but he wasn’t ever going to admit to that. “That’s…completely irrelevant, I - ”

The woman cleared her throat to interrupt him, and he paused as his eyes slowly traveled upwards. She was holding out the chunk of bread, extending it in his direction with a benevolent smile on her face. “Share?” 

Loki’s eyebrows knitted together as he stared at her expression of sincerity and kindness, struggling to answer a simple question without an uncomplicated answer. Food wasn’t going to solve any of his problems, and yet the offer felt like a lifeline for a lost soul that had spent far too long drowning in sorrow. 

He believed he didn’t deserve that lifeline, but before he could answer with what would almost certainly be a refusal, his muscles were inexorably pushing him upright. They made the decision for him, as if their need for sustenance nullified his desire to stay isolated. 

Loki cautiously took a few steps closer, a massive effort for someone who had spent over a thousand days in the dark, but as he reached for the bread, the woman moved it just out of his grasp. 

“If you’re going to eat with me, you can’t go back to hiding in the shadows. Agreed?” the woman offered, a slow smile creeping across her face as she looked up at him. 

Her green eyes sparkled with the guileless amusement of someone who didn’t know what they were actually asking of him, and Loki was grappling with the urge to resist temptation, to fight the siren’s call of both avoidance and hostility over her simple offer of food and company. 

It was foolish, and it was going to end in disaster, and Loki couldn’t understand why he was considering it at all. The years of previous mistakes had led him to believe that he couldn’t be trusted to make the right call, that the last choice he had made - the one to stay isolated from everyone and everything - was the only good thing he’d ever done. 

But it was just bread, and Loki told himself that the conversation would just be temporary, and so Loki cleared his throat and set his jaw in place. “Agreed.” 

The woman smiled with an innocent sort of triumph as she handed the bread back to him, and Loki felt his heart skip a beat. It was nothing, it was just a simple gesture, one that he didn’t deserve - she just didn’t know any better yet. 

He pushed the feeling away as he settled back down on the stone floor again, adjacent to the shadows but not within them this time. The woman shifted her attention back to her porridge, and Loki, feeling exposed and unsure of what to do or say, focused his attention on the bread. 

He turned it over in his hands, studying its shape and color - round and flat and carelessly formed, with a dark and over-cooked crust. It gave way under the pressure of his hands, snapping in half with a loud crack. Loki glanced over, and the woman was smiling softly at him. 

These two strangers were sharing a meal inside a dungeon meant for horrors and torture and pain, and Loki had to remind himself to not get used to it, because the price for even the simplest of meals was always going to be regret. 

“So, what should I call you?” the woman asked before bringing a spoonful of porridge to her mouth. 

Loki tore off a piece of bread and put it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing to buy himself some time instead of answering. He was sure that no one here had ever heard of him, that saying his name wouldn’t set off any alarm bells - but still he hesitated. What if his reputation had somehow preceded him? What if he actually wasn’t that far outside of the Nine Realms?

A thousand other what-ifs swirled in his mind, and the woman was still waiting for an answer after sharing her kindness and food that he definitely didn’t deserve. Maybe his name would somehow cast a spell for all of his enemies to hear, and they’d finally be able to find him, and they’d make sure he never had anyone to share a meal with ever again. That was what he deserved. 

“My name is…Loki.”

He braced himself for the eventual fallout, like his shame would manifest itself into the monster he knew he was, but nothing changed. The woman continued eating, perhaps only finding the time it took him to answer strange instead of the actual answer, the water droplets continued falling, and the darkness in the dungeon remained stagnant. 

“And why don’t the guards bring you any food, Loki? Are they punishing you beyond locking you in here?” 

It was a very loaded question, one with a very complicated answer, and Loki wasn’t sure how to handle it. He broke off another piece and put it in his mouth as he weighed his options - on the one hand, he didn’t know this woman at all, or if she was trustworthy; clearly the guards thought her important even if they hated her, but what exactly was she capable of? 

But on the other hand - what did he have left to lose? 

“The guards don’t know I’m here,” Loki answered truthfully. It was so unlike him to unveil himself like this, and he didn’t know whether it was because he had spent too long wallowing in apathy and simply didn’t care anymore, or if he was so desperate for connection that it weakened his sensibilities. 

The woman lowered the spoon back to the bowl as her brow furrowed. “Wait - you’re hiding here? Why?”

Another loaded question, and he was really starting to regret answering them. He had come out of the shadows to be distracted, not to have someone question his actions or judgment. The woman seemed genuinely curious about him, but how could he even begin to explain himself, and what would be the point? It wouldn’t alleviate his burden, and it would only lead to more questions. 

“I deserve to be here. This is where I belong,” The words felt like acid on his tongue, and Loki sighed heavily, looking down at his hands as the woman processed his words with even more confusion. 

What am I - the God of Self-Sabotage?

Those words he had spoken to Mobius so long ago were intended to be sarcasm at the time, but it was still the absolute truth. It wasn’t too late to end this, to lay back down and face away from her again. It might take a bit longer than a few days, but eventually she would be just as dead as all the others, and everything could go back to the way it was supposed to be. 

But he stayed where he was, exposed in small slivers of light as he crushed another chunk of bread between his teeth. 

“I’m…so sorry, Loki. I cannot imagine how whatever you’re hiding from could be worse than this…” the woman replied, shaking her head as she looked around the cell. “Or how you could possibly find respite in a place like this…”

If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be sympathizing with him right now, and Loki considered telling her about the awful things he’d done that had led him there. Just to get her to stop feeling sorry for him, to make her scared of him, to make her hide from him…because he was too broken to do anything else. 

Loki didn’t respond, busying himself with chewing and swallowing, and he could feel her gaze return to him before she spoke again. “Look, whatever you’ve done - it can’t have been so bad - ”

He wanted to believe her, but she was so very wrong about him, and his heart ached as she continued justifying what she had no way of understanding, the pressure of her reassurances constricting his insides and sending blood rushing through his ears. He could barely hear what she was saying, but her expression was kind and forgiving and it was too much for him to handle. 

“With all due respect - ” Loki finally snapped, interrupting and meeting her sympathetic expression with a fiercer, more intense one of his own. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me, and you don’t know what I’ve done.” 

The woman stared at him for a moment, her eyes widened in surprise, before looking back down at the tray in her lap. “You’re right. I apologize…” 

Loki shook his head as heavy silence descended around them. He hadn’t meant to be so insistent, but she was in direct contradiction to the torment he was deserving of. 

Tearing off another chunk of bread, they both chewed without speaking, unsure of how to continue. The air hung heavy, full of regret and musk and uncertainty, but he could feel the woman’s gaze shifting to and from him, like she wanted to ask him another question. He could only pray that it wasn’t about himself. 

“So, um…do you happen to know who the dungeon guards are? Or what they want from me, or the others?” 

Loki was unable to hide the snark still lingering in his tone. “How am I supposed to know what they want with you?” 

The answer to that question was what had initially drawn him out of the shadows in the first place, and he was vexed that she had somehow managed to turn his interrogation on its head so easily. 

The woman either didn’t notice his growing irritation, or was deliberately ignoring it. “And I take it no one’s coming to rescue you?” 

He sighed and leaned back against the stone wall. It was cold and unyielding, like the cruel fate he deserved, like the harsh loneliness he had felt his entire life. No one would have come to save him, even if they knew where he was. 

Somehow his cellmate seemed to understand that, judging by the forlorn look in her eyes. Loki felt raw and exposed, oddly juxtaposed against his desperate need to be understood - a feeling he thought was dead and buried a long time ago. Why was this happening? How did she do this to him? 

The woman moved her tray to the floor and stared intently at him. “Look, no one’s coming for me either, so we need to break out on our own. It shouldn’t be too difficult if we’re working together.” 

So that’s all she wanted - for him to save her. Loki ran a hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. That was a choice she expected him to make, one that put her very life at stake, and more importantly - it would require him leaving in order to save her. His head already ached with the burden of it all, and that familiar dread of his previous captors forcing their own wills on him was washing over him again. 

“Plus, we have the element of surprise if the guards don’t - ” the woman continued, and Loki was now positive that she was definitely ignoring his trepidation entirely. Her expression was hopeful, and he couldn’t stand it. 

“No. Absolutely not. Absolutely not!” Loki seethed through gritted teeth, and his jaw clenched together as anger coursed through his veins. “If you want to leave, you’ll have to do it alone!”

Their eyes met, and she looked absolutely crushed again. He was sorry no one was coming to rescue her either, but that couldn’t be his burden to bear. He hadn’t meant to be lured into any sort of camaraderie, he just didn’t want to fall asleep again. And while Loki knew doing nothing was worse than trying and failing, he couldn’t bring himself to take the chance. 

“Look, I appreciate the meal, but this was a mistake,” he sighed heavily. “You’re better off on your own.” 

Loki shoved the final chunk of bread in his mouth and started to chew. And without waiting for a response, he lowered his back to the stone floor, resuming his position on his side and closing his eyes. 

He told himself he was better off without her too. 

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[oneglass-zinfandel]

Movie Night, Cuddle Night

Mammon x nb!reader

Rating: fluff

Length: one-shot

Summary: you watch a horror movie with Mammon but he gets to scared and makes a mess so you switch plans and you fall asleep together

Warnings: None

Note: I was supposed to post part 1 of Buddy Daddies Rei x Babysitter!reader today but I had a bit of a block so maybe tomorrow, also don't question why a movies is online right after it has been made instead of being in the cinema first I don't know either

It was a usual day in Devildom, except you woke up to a notification. It was a reminder you set yourself around a month ago about the new movie coming out today! It was a horror movie called "The Walking Bread" (let me have fun with the name). You were excited to see it because you loved horror movies.

Soon you got up and got ready for the day going the dinning room to meet for breakfast with everyone.

Everyone sat at the table, conversations happening left and right until you spoke your head turning to Levi. "Hey Levi we still watching that movie tonight?" He looked at you confused for a second panicking once he realized what you were talking about. "Oh! Right,.. I forgot about that, i was stayed up to see it the second it came out"

Lucifer looking at Levi shaking his head to himself hearing he stayed up late.

Mammon looked at Levi and spoke loudly as usual "HUH?! You made movie plans with the human? Their supposed to be spendin' time with THE Great Mammon"

Levi looked at Mammon annoyed. You spoke looking at them both "well since Levi already watched it we can watch it together Mammon, although this IS a Horror movie so I'm not sure you could handle it" a small giggle leaving your lips.

Mammon waved his hands around sounding offended " Of course I can handle it! The Great Mammon is not scared of some movie! I'm comin' to your room later and provin' it!"

--time skip--

The night fell as the moon stood proud and bright. You were putting on your Pyjamas, a white two piece with golden bears on it. While you were patently waiting he wasent showing up, instead of texting him you went to get drinks as well as some popcorn.

You came back a few minutes later to see Mammon in your room looking thru your drawers. "Your finally here! What took you so long huh? You dare keep me waiting human?" He said trying to sound annoyed. "I was waiting for YOU, but you weren't showing up so I went to go get some food and drinks, and I got your favorite, your welcome oh great Mammon" You said walking past him to sit on the bed. He looked at your hands noticing the drink you mentioned blushing very lightly by the fact your remembered.

"Whatever, let's start already"

--small time skip-

You two sat the the bed shoulder to shoulder with your laptop on your lap and the food on his. Your drink on the bedside table and his on the bed because he swore "I won't spill it".

The movie was only 20min in but Mammon already got shaken a bit by the light scares.

30minutes passed, the popcorn long gone.

40minutes, you saw a spoiler before watching about a big jumpscare happening some time soon moving the mouse to "check how much is left" but looking at how much longer till it happens. 30 seconds, a small smile crept on your face. "If your Scares Mammon you can cling to me, I will protect you little Demon"

He looked at you for a second with a loud "HUH" and back at the screen saying " I'm not scared, if anything you should cling to me because this is way to Scary for a hum-" He was cut off by a jumpscare as he let out a girlish scream, even you flinched.

You heard a glass fall. Pausing the movie you looked at Mammon's side, the drink got knocked over by his jump on to your bed.

Great.

Mammon looked at the drink and back at you "oops.." You simply sighed putting the laptop down from your legs onto the other side of the bed getting off yourself.

"Yeah this movie is way to scary for you" you said looking for a new blanket in one of your drawers. "…" He didn't try to deny it this time feeling about about spilling the drink.

You cleaned up the mess putting on the new blanket leaving the dirty one on a desk to put to wash tomorrow.

"You know I can watch this alone later, if you want to spend time together so bad we can watch something more your style and maybe you can sleep here for the night" you say hopping to make him feel better about the situation.

"…can we watch that one action movie with the racing you were talking about some time ago?"

"Yeah of course" you said, he leaned his head on your shoulder. Putting your arm around him you petted his hair.

Sure he was a tsundere all the time but he has his soft moments, moments where he stops the act and shoes you how much he truly loves you.

He put his arms around you leaning in,his eyes focusing on the show, but the feeling of tour touch never leaving his mind. 'Warm' he thought to himself.

Somehow he feel asleep even thru the loud sounds of the movie he picked. You noticed eventually, carefully closing your laptop as you moved him to lay in bed with you, spooning him while petting his head.

Your head was on top of his, his face meeting g your chest he brought you closer even in his sleep.

You mean a lot to him.

Anyone else would have yelled at him for that accident but you didn't, you even offered to watch something you probably weren't interested in. You were to kind for him.

A mere human.

His human.