#Would you guys believe me if I said this cross-posting is also late because I had ANOTHER menty b

[chronicangel]

lavender moon: Intermission 1

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 2000 Date posted: January 21, 2025

The intermissions for this fic are written from the perspectives of other characters, are shorter than main story chapters, and are not essential to understand the rest of the fic! This one is about Karkat and Terezi.

She drags him with her until her back is pressed against a wall and he’s pulled flush against her, and he leans down to kiss her if only to get that shit-eating grin off her face. He pulls away just as fast as he’d kissed her, though he doesn’t go very far, to murmur, “Terezi, I’m supposed to be on-duty. And I need to finish packing my shit tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, milky white layered over a pale blue-green, and he thinks he might be the only person in the world who remembers what color they were. She’d probably make fun of him for that. “I get to see you once a year. Why am I being punished because you procrastinated packing your shit?”

He thinks about commenting on her language, but he figures now is not the time. “I didn’t procrastinate, Terezi, I was busy.”

“Busy with what?” she snorts derisively. “Having a pissing contest with the prince, no doubt. Karkat, if you want people to take you seriously as a leader, maybe you should try being less insecure about it.”

“Fuck off,” he huffs, and as he tries to pull away, she locks her arms around his shoulders and pulls him in for another kiss.

Though the prince and princess had left the ceremonial hall immediately after the wedding, no doubt to consummate the marriage, the large room is still full of guests—guests Karkat is supposed to be helping to monitor. There had been some nerves in the weeks leading up to the wedding that protests might break out, that the citizens of Prospit still might not approve of the king’s choice in suitor for their princess. With Jade cleared out of the room and away from danger, that’s most of the worry assuaged, but technically, John and their father are still in there for who knows what reason. If there was an assassination attempt and Karkat was in another room getting handsy with a noblewoman, he cannot imagine the kind of shit that would come his way, even if it failed. He’s risking a lot to sneak away with her.

She’s worth the risk, though, as much as he wishes she weren’t.

The unfortunate thing about being in love is that they’ve both got noble obligations. Even though Vriska’s family’s social standing is only barely higher than Terezi’s, Terezi is still technically her lady-in-waiting. Oh how Karkat would kill to have been privy to the conversation where they decided that. Likewise, he’s a knight—no, not just a knight, the princess’ personal guard. If he was just a knight, they’d probably keep him in Prospit. He could probably even bargain to be sent to the capital city where Vriska and Terezi live with the amount of experience he has. But Jade is going to Derse, and his duty is to Jade, so he’s getting shipped off to Derse, too.

He can’t bring himself to be entirely upset about it. As much as he’ll miss Terezi, he does care about Jade. It’s hard to be responsible for someone’s personal safety for so many years and not care about them, he thinks. He’d have to be some sort of Serket-level sociopath obsessed only with wealth and power and his own social status not to have developed something akin to a friendship with the princess—if for no other reason than because he was one of the only people she had when they were children. Plus, he owes her. It was only because Jade advocated for him in the first place that the royal family actually let him train as a knight. Without her, he’d still be begging for scraps in the ruins of what used to be Beforus.

“You’re distracted,” she murmurs against his mouth, and he lets out a grunt that he thinks sounds vaguely apologetic and slides his hands down her waist to cup the backs of her thighs and pick her up off the floor. He’s not sure which one of them hates the stupid dresses they stick her in more. At least she’s not wearing one of those stupid fucking cages this time, just regular, flat layers that bunch up at her waist fairly easily.

When his hand makes contact with her bare thigh, he sucks in a sharp breath and pulls away, looking around like someone might be watching them. “Not here,” he murmurs, and she rolls her eyes again.

“You are so paranoid,” she says, but she slides out of his hold without any argument. She knows as well as he does how bad it would be if they got caught.

It’s not that they can’t be together, not in the traditional sense. It’s not forbidden or anything. He didn’t take a vow of celibacy when he was knighted, and she’ll be expected to marry someone someday. He thinks that as a moderately high-ranking soldier he’s probably got the social standing to toss his name into the ring, if nothing else.

It’s just that this isn’t the time or place. If he was smarter than he is, or maybe just less smitten, he’d have turned down her advances, pulled his hand away from her when she started to pull him away from the party, and stayed at his post. Unfortunately, he isn’t smarter than he is, or any less smitten, so here they are.

“I bet the knights’ quarters are empty,” she says, with another one of those shit-eating grins, and he groans and drags a hand down his face.

“Why do you always want to do it in the most insanely fucking risky places possible?”

“It adds to the thrill.” She grabs his hand again and starts tugging on his arm. It’s not like she can actually take them there, though, considering that she’s never been in the knights’ quarters, or in this castle at all, and considering the fact that she’s completely fucking blind. He lets her pull him until she starts to lead them in the wrong direction, anyway.

When they get to the knights’ quarters, she wastes no time at all in practically tackling him with another kiss, and he moves his hands to her shoulders to push her away a little bit—not out of the kiss, mind you, just a little less all over him. She doesn’t respond well to this, and she pulls away to look up at him with furrowed brows and say, “What’s wrong?”

She’s going to think that he’s being stupid. He knows that she is because he is being stupid.

“I just,” he starts, fumbling for the right words. He looks at her face, all twisted with concern, and he swallows. “It might be a long time before I get to see you again. I don’t want to rush this,” he finally mumbles.

Something in her face softens, which he didn’t think she was even capable of. Terezi is always all sharp lines and angles. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he’s certain that her teeth are actually pointed.

She pulls away from him to sit down on a bed—not his bed, just the nearest one she can find. The bedrooms in the knights’ quarters are four beds to a room. His room has fortunately been mostly empty for most of his service—him and Nitram and whatever idiots get sent to the castle for a few months before inevitably being sent back to the capital. Right now, that bed is Dave’s.

“Do you really think it’s going to be that long? I mean, longer than usual?” she asks, and she does a good job at masking her insecurity—a much better job than he’s ever done.

He wants to believe that it won’t. Surely Derse must have holidays, too, must let their soldiers see their families from time to time. Karkat doesn’t have any family, so he’s always gone with Kanaya to the capital city where her mother lives and stayed with the Serkets and the Pyropes, who have lived together much longer than he’s been in Prospit. But if he’s being realistic, even if there are holidays, he probably won’t get to see Terezi for them. It takes two days to get to Skaia from the castle by carriage, and Derse’s capital of Vale is a two-day carriage ride in the opposite direction. If he gets a week off, he wouldn’t even have time to travel back and forth. Sure, she doesn’t have any year-round obligation to Vriska, and if he’s not living in the hyper-protected castle where they’ve kept the princess locked up her whole life, she could come to visit him, but if being in the Dersite army is anything like the training regimens Dave has been putting them through the last three months, he’s not sure he’ll have any time to see her.

He sinks down onto the edge of his bed, their knees touching through the silk of her dress and the cotton of his pants. “I don’t know,” he answers, because that’s easier.

She sees through him, like she always does. For a blind woman, she sees so much. “What if we just ran away together? Steal a horse, sneak out tonight, and ride off to one of the countries in the west. I’ve heard it’s nice and warm there, since you’re such a baby about the cold.”

He snorts. “Terezi, we can’t run away. For one, they’d never let us over the border dressed like this on a horse belonging to the royal family.”

“And for two?”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes. “And for two, I didn’t actually have a second reason, dumbass. We just can’t.”

They’re both quiet for a long minute. Her eyes drop down to her lap, as though she could actually see his face if she kept looking at it and she doesn’t want to see his expression. He knows he must look miserable, but she has no reason to know that. “Am I ever going to see you again at all?” she asks, and her voice is so small he almost doesn’t hear it.

His chest squeezes painfully. For just a second, he hates Dave and Jade for making him do this. Then he thinks of Jade all alone in Derse, and he brings his hands up to run through his hair. “You can’t get rid of me that easy,” he says, and he hopes he sounds reassuring.

She does smile, for whatever that’s worth—and it’s worth a lot, to him. “And what if I just never let you leave?” she says, with a teasing edge, and her grin isn’t anywhere near as sharp or bright as it usually is, but it’s there, at least.

He snorts again and reaches out to grab one of her wrists and haul her into his lap. She settles into it so easily, like she belongs there, and he slides his hands down to the curve of her waist while leaning his face closer to hers. “Yeah? And how the fuck are you going to manage that?”

She takes the bait, leaning down to kiss him and really grinning against his mouth now, and he lets out a relieved sigh through his nose as he kisses her back. Her hands slide up to his chest, and he can barely feel it through the leather and steel of his brigandine, but he feels her push him back until he’s flat on his back and she’s settled over him with a wide grin.

If Tavros finds them in bed together later that night, he’s gracious enough not to say anything. Peeling himself away from her so he can start throwing the last of his shit into the small trunk all of his belongings are stuffed into is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. Second most painful, maybe, after having to look at her still sleeping in his bed when it’s time for him to go. He leans down to press a kiss against her forehead and murmurs, “I’ll see you later, Pyrope.”

[prisjean]

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ late night confessions

synopsis: after confessing how you've never had any of your firsts, frat boy!caleb is there to listen (and help  ¬ᴗ¬) but he also has something to confess aswell?

tw: MDNI +18, p in v (use protection), virginity loss, fingering, cummin inside, oral, squirting, teases a bit, caleb is a bit of a groaner, your pleasure comes first!!

author's note: hihi lovelies! so sorry i took awhile to post, life has been busy. i wanted to make something extra long because i will continue to be busy these next few weeks so i dont know when i'll be able to post but thank you so much for the love on held close, it was my best work and i wanted to capture the essence on how caleb is hehe. happy reading!

the party was still going strong downstairs. music thumping, drunken laughter spilling out onto the front lawn of the frat house, but up here, in caleb’s dorm, everything was quiet. you sat cross-legged on his bed, picking at the frayed hem of your hoodie while he lounged back against the headboard, one arm slung lazily behind his head.

this wasn’t unusual. you and caleb always ended up like this after nights out. he might be the life of the party, but he never let you walk home alone. not when he could just let you crash here, giving the two of you privacy while his roommate was away.

he took a sip from his water bottle, tilting his head to the side as he studied you. “you looked miserable down there,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “don’t tell me you’re finally admitting frat parties aren’t your thing.”

you rolled your eyes. “they never were.” you take a sip from your water bottle that caleb handed to you.

he chuckled, setting the bottle on the nightstand. “then why’d you come? you know i wouldn’t have invited you if it meant you would feel terrible.”

you hesitated, tracing patterns on his blanket. “i dunno. just figured…well it’s college. i should probably try to enjoy it like everyone else.”

caleb hummed like he didn’t quite believe you. “uhuh and did you?”

you shot him a dry look. “i spent half the night dodging drunk guys who couldn’t take a hint, so what do you think?”

his smirk faded. “who?”

“relax, nothing happened,” you said quickly. “but that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

caleb frowned, pushing himself up so he was properly sitting. “what do you mean?”

you let out a slow breath, you looked down at the floor. “i just… i feel like i’m behind.”

“behind what?”

“everything,” you admitted. “i’ve never had a real boyfriend. never had my first kiss, never-” you paused, suddenly regretting saying anything at all. “never mind. it’s stupid.” you dismiss your comment with a slight chuckle.

caleb was quiet for a moment. when you finally glanced up at him, you expected teasing, maybe some cocky remark about how he could “fix that” if you wanted.

but he just looked… thoughtful.

“that’s not stupid pipsqueak” he said finally. his voice was quieter now, more serious.

you sighed. “come on, caleb. you..you’ve lived. you’ve had hookups, flings, relationships or whatever you call them and i’ve had nothing.”

he gets closer and sits next to you on his bed, keeping his gaze. “and? why does that matter?”

“because,” you huffed, frustrated. “people expect you to have certain experiences by a certain age, and i just… haven’t.”

caleb’s brows furrowed. “who the hell cares what ‘people’ expect?”

you bit your lip, shrugging. “it’s just embarrassing sometimes. i feel like i’m missing out.”

he was watching you closely now, something unreadable in his gaze. “you’re not missing out on anything, pipsqueak,” he murmured.

your stomach flipped at the nickname, but you ignored it. “easy for you to say. you’ve had all your firsts.”

caleb froze but leaned closer, something like a smirk tugging at his lips, but it wasn’t cocky this time. he cups your cheek. “yeah? and you wanna know something?”

you hesitated before nodding.

“they were forgettable.”

that caught you off guard. “what?”

he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “i mean… there were moments. but i could never look them in the eye. i just couldn’t..” his fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, gaze flickering away. i always made sure i wasn’t facing them, like if i did, it’d make it real and something in me would just freeze.” 

he let out a short, almost self-deprecating laugh. “like some part of me knew it wasn’t supposed to be with them or other times i would call them the wrong name.. and it would be the same name every. single. time” his jaw tightens, now his gaze never left yours. 

your stomach twisted. “caleb…”

he shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. he ruffles your hair. “you’re not behind, pipsqueak. you’re just waiting for it to actually matter.”

your breath caught. “you’ve never…?”

he shook his head once, a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “not in the way you think.”

the room felt smaller somehow, the space between you charged with something unsaid.

“you don’t regret that?” you asked quietly.

he hesitated, he huffs. “i think i’d regret it more if i gave my firsts to someone who actually meant something… and they didn’t feel the same.”

your heart stuttered in your chest, the weight of his words pressing down on you. but before you could say anything, caleb just gave you a lazy, lopsided smile, like he hadn’t just dropped a big piece of his life on you. he grazed your cheek, his touch lingering for just a second too long.

“don’t stress about it, okay?” he murmured. “your firsts should be with someone you want them with. not just someone convenient.”

a heavy silence settled between you, but your mind was spinning now, turning over every moment, every lingering touch, every look he had given you that you never understood, until now.

“all those girls,” you said hesitantly, your voice quieter now. “the ones you’ve been with… did none of them ever mean anything?”

caleb stiffened, his jaw tightening. he looked away, exhaling sharply through his nose like he was debating whether to tell you the truth.

then he muttered, almost too low for you to hear. “none of them were you.” he finally admitted.

you felt your cheeks heat up by the sudden change in tone. 

he scoffed at himself, scratching the back of his head. “it’s silly, huh? i’d go out, find someone who-” he let out a humorless laugh. “someone who looked just enough like you if i squinted. your hair and that same kind of smile that i adore too much. sometimes they even smelled like your vanilla perfume.”

you stared at him, your heart beating against your ribs.

he shook his head, laughing bitterly. “and for a while, it worked. i’d close my eyes and pretend it was you. just for a little bit.” his voice dropped lower, ashamed. “but then it’d be over, and i’d wake up, and it wasn’t. and i’d hate myself for it.”

you swallowed hard. “caleb…”

his eyes met yours again, and for once, there was no smirk, no teasing glint. just raw honesty.

“but that didn’t stop me,” he admitted. “because i thought..heh i convinced myself..i’d never actually have you. and if I couldn’t, then what was the harm in pretending?”

a heavy silence settled between you. your chest ached, not just for him, but for yourself, for all the moments you never realized he was looking at you like that. the only thing that echoed now was the faint music from the speakers coming from the party downstairs.

“…and now?” you whispered.

caleb exhaled, something almost resigned in his expression. “and now i don’t even wanna pretend anymore.”

“you don’t…have too..” you whispered as both of your faces were mere inches from each other. a quiet breath came first followed by caleb looking down at your lips before he traced his hand down your chin. then, caleb kissed you.

he was slow at first but hesitant, as if he was still trying to convince himself this was real. his hand slid to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in deeper. he places your back on his bed, the weight of him settling over you while fighting for dominance with his tongue. 

he kissed you like he was making up for every stolen glance, every moment spent pretending. his tongue brushed against yours, coaxing, claiming, demanding in a way that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

then he slowed, breathing heavy as he pulled back just enough for his forehead to rest against yours. his thumb traced your jaw, his voice barely above a whisper.

"tell me to stop," he said, but his voice wavered, like he was terrified of what he’d do if you actually did.

you swallowed hard, your hands turned to knuckles."i don’t want you to."

a sharp exhale, like he had been holding his breath. his lips ghosted over yours, his grip tightening ever so slightly. his breath hot over your lips "then tell me…" his voice was desperate. "tell me that whatever happens next, you won’t regret it." he grabs your hand to kiss it before looking into your eyes once more awaiting your answer. “i want to be your first.” his puppy eyes now settling upon you. 

you lifted that same hand, brushing your fingers through his hair. “caleb,” you whispered, soft but certain. “i could never regret you. i want this more than you could ever know.”

with a warm smile, he kissed you again, harder this time, more sure of himself. his hand slid down your waist, grounding himself in the feeling of you beneath him.

his hand traced the curve of your cheek before trailing lower, his lips followed.

he dove into your neck, attacking you with nibbles. what started as slow, lingering kisses turned into teasing bites that sent a shiver down your spine. his teeth grazed over your skin before his tongue followed, soothing the marks he was leaving behind. your clear skin was now painted with his touch, evidence of his undying love for you. he thought, what could be just a one-night fling to you, felt like more than everything to him. if what was happening now was just for one night, he was determined to make this into a memory that will keep him going. 

he trails a free hand to the base of your skirt, tugging on the zipper while his lips stay latched on your neck. with a sudden “zzzip” filling the room, he continues his path, guiding his hand lower and successfully reaching inside your underwear. you felt shivers down your spine as caleb rolls circles on your clit, sending a gasp out of you. 

you grip at his shoulder, feeling the fabric of his jacket wrinkle under your grasp. you didn’t know how to comprehend the amount of pleasure he was giving you. moans started to escape your lips as caleb continued to caress your clit, his every touch left you almost breathless but wanting more. your body started to tense up, an unknown feeling that only escalated your arousal. 

caleb let out a low chuckle before trailing a series of soft, lingering kisses along your lips. just as you try to keep up with your breath, he captured your mouth again, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his touch both teasing and possessive. his tongue slipped past your parted lips, prying your mouth open as he explored you further, muffling your shaky moans with an intense and consuming kiss.

“this feels s-so good..” you managed to whisper in between kisses, your body responding to every relentless touch. caleb still not losing his rhythm on your clit, his lips never leaving yours as he pulled back just enough to smile.

"i'm glad..because I won’t be stopping anytime soon," he said, his voice low and teasing.

his words sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and anticipation pooling in your stomach. the more he kept playing with your clit, the more this..unknown sensation was rising inside you and he didn’t want him to stop. 

pulling his fingers away, you immediately missed the feeling, a whimper catching in your throat. before you could make a fuss on the loss, caleb dipped his head down, his breath warm against your skirt, nearing your cunt. you sucked in a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. your eyes, heavy-lidded and hazy with pleasure, flickered to the window. the stars had never looked so bright, distant, shimmering, and endless, just like the party still going on downstairs.

his hands found your hips, thumbs pressing into your hip bones in a slow, soothing motion before he hooked his fingers into your skirt. with a smooth tug, he slid it down, taking your underwear along with it, leaving you bare beneath him. caleb glanced up, his eyes smoldering as he murmured, "after tonight, i promise..this is all you'll ever think about."  

before you could even form a response, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, keeping you open for him. then, without warning, his mouth descended on your exposed pussy.  

the first swipe of his tongue was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor you, to let the taste of you settle on his tongue. but that restraint didn't last long. his groan vibrated against your core, low and needy, like he was already losing himself. his hands gripped your thighs tighter, fingers pressing into your flesh like he needed something to ground himself. but even then, he was slipping, unraveling with every lick, every sound you made.  

his tongue moved with an eager desperation, tracing over your folds, as if he was memorizing the way you felt against his tongue. he devoured you like a man starved, each groan growing rougher, throatier, as his self-control decreased. his movements became sloppier, greedier. his lips sealing around you, sucking just to hear you gasp, his tongue lapping up every drop like he couldn’t get enough.  

when he pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening, his breath ragged, his pupils were blown wide, almost black with hunger.

 "fuck..." he exhaled, his voice rawly thick. his grip on your thighs tightened for just a second before he dove back in, dragging another long, almost desperate lick through your folds, like he had lost all sense of anything else but you. 

your fingers tangled in his mullet without thinking, pulling him closer as your hips rocked against his tongue, chasing every wave of pleasure he gave you. the heat pooling in your stomach burned hotter with each flick of his tongue, each hungry suck that left you trembling beneath him.  

"caleb—" his name slipped out in a breathless moan before you slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sounds spilling from your lips. "that feels… s-so good," you mumbled against your palm, your voice barely holding together.  

but caleb wasn’t having that.  

still buried between your thighs, he hummed against you, a deep, satisfied sound that sent vibrations straight through your core. without pausing, he reached up, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand away from your lips. he laced his fingers with yours, his grip firm, grounding.  

his lips curled into a smirk against you before he murmured, voice thick with want, "you don’t have to hold back. be as loud as you want… i’m right here."

he pushes you back, pinning you against the bed with ease, his face still hovering over your pussy.  

"caleb, i…ah!"  

a sharp cry cuts off your words as his fingers sink into you, stretching you open inch by inch. the sudden fullness sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your body arch into his touch. before you can even catch your breath, his tongue joins the mix, dragging along your folds with a slow, deliberate lick that has your thighs trembling.  

"you taste so sweet…" he groans against you, his voice dripping with hunger. "i could do this all night..all day even", he chuckles. 

your slick coats his fingers as he pumps them in and out, the pace teasingly slow, as if he’s memorizing every reaction, every little sound you make. your whimpers fuel him, a spark igniting in his chest as he watches you come undone beneath him.  

then, he curls his fingers just right-  

your back lifts off the bed, a choked moan escaping your lips as your body tenses. his smirk deepens, dark and knowing. he’s found it.  

"there it is," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. he doesn’t waste a second. his fingers pick up speed, thrusting deeper, pressing against that same spot over and over again. every movement is deliberate, every stroke meant to unravel you. the room fills with the slick sounds of his fingers working inside you, the wet heat of his mouth still teasing your clit, and the way your moans spill out, growing louder with every calculated thrust.  

caleb hums against you, his own pleasure building just from watching you come apart. "that’s it… let me hear you."

your grip on his hand tightened, fingers trembling as your body squirmed beneath him. a desperate whimper escaped your lips.

“c-caleb… i—ah… i think i’m close,” you gasped, your voice breathless, barely above a whisper.

his response was immediate, “come for me, princess… i’m right here.”

a shiver ran down your spine as his words alone sent you teetering on the edge. your back arched, muscles tensing as pleasure coiled tight in your core. caleb didn’t stop, his touch was relentless, his tongue and fingers working in perfect sync, dragging you through wave after wave of ecstasy.

your release crashed over you, sending you spiraling. a gasp came from your throat as warm liquid flooded through you, coating his face and fingers soon part of the liquid dripped down to the bed. caleb groaned against you, savoring every moment, every sound, every taste. he pulled away only to lick his lips, eyes dark with satisfaction as his thumb traced soft circles on your inner thigh.

“that’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with praise, a smirk tugging at his lips. even now, with your body spent and breath uneven, the hunger in his gaze told you..he wasn’t done with you yet.

he wastes no time before hovering over you, caging you beneath him. his fingers fumble slightly as he works at the buttons of your top, eager yet unsteady. one by one, they come undone, revealing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. his pupils darken, widening with sheer desperation. he had imagined this moment countless times, but nothing compared to the reality of seeing you like this.  

“you’re even more stunning than i imagined,” he breathes, voice thick with longing. the last of the buttons popped off and you help him as he gently swifts it off your shoulders, putting it to the side. there’s no hesitation in his movements as he expertly unclasps your bra with a single hand, discarding it just as quickly. 

for a moment, he simply stares, enamored, breath hitching as if he doesn’t know where to begin. but desire overtakes him, and he dips his head, capturing one of your sensitive buds between his lips. the moment his mouth latches on, he sucks greedily, the same feeling he had between your thighs now channeled into worshipping every inch of you. he makes sure to give the other breast the same attention, his fingers kneading your soft flesh while his mouth continues its worship. caleb was always the type to ensure you were taken care of, and this was no different. his touch was deliberate, yet dripping with desire.  

your whimpers slip past your lips, each sound fueling him further as he overwhelms you with sensation after sensation. his tongue flicks and rolls, alternating between slow, teasing swirls and desperate, heated sucks, never giving you a moment to recover. every movement was a silent promise. he wasn’t stopping until you were completely undone beneath him.

eventually pulling his lips away from your breasts, his breaths were ragged, heavy with restraint as his fingers made quick work of his belt. “you have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, the sharp clink of metal echoed in the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper being dragged down. 

his hands trembled slightly, whether from excitement or the sheer need to feel you, you weren’t sure. but the moment his pants hit the floor, he wasted no time. he leaned back over you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin as he traced a hand along your thigh, his touch very  worshipping. he releases his erection from his boxers and he was big. his tip glistened with pre-cum. he guided his cock before your pussy. 

“i’ll go slow, i promise” he breathed out, using your slick to coat himself. he aligned himself with your entrance, teasing you with the tip before slowly pushing in, letting you take him inch by inch.

a groan ripped from his throat as your walls wrapped around him, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to steady himself. his head fell forward, his breath hot against your shoulder. "fuck," he rasped, voice shaking. "you're—you're squeezing me so tight." he shakily pumps in you slowly.

"c-caleb," you whimpered, voice breaking as you tried to adjust. "you're so… big—"

his grip on you tightened, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants. "god… you feel too good," he nearly whimpered, his voice filled with desperation. his body trembled, pressing his forehead against yours as he fought for control. 

“if you keep squeezing me like that,” he murmured, his voice husky and uneven, “i don’t think i can go slow.”

you swallowed hard, your walls fluttering around him at his words. “please… don’t,” you whispered, meeting his half-lidded gaze with your own. "i want to feel all of you." you tugged at his jacket, it being the only clothing left on between the two of you. you slipped your hands beneath the fabric, pushing his jacket off his shoulders before sliding it down his arms, letting it fall carelessly to the floor along with your clothes. you guided your hands on his chest, feeling every muscle he had. you were used to seeing caleb shirtless but tonight, it was in a different light that only increased your arousal. 

once he was halfway in, his breathing started to become heavy as he studied your face for any sign of discomfort. “alright..” he hums, his thumb stroked gentle circles on your hip. “but tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered.

your nails dug into his shoulders, your body desperate for more despite the slow burn. “keep going,” you urged, your voice breathless and cheeks flushed.

caleb let out a shuddered exhale before pushing deeper, groaning as he finally bottomed out inside you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, overwhelmed by the warmth embracing him so perfectly. his body trembled to move at a pace that wouldn’t break you, despite the way your walls clenched around him. 

your moans became louder as caleb continues to fill you, his hair becoming a bird's nest under your fingers. “c-caleb..more” you bit your lip, scratch marks forming on his back the more you cling onto him. “hhhg…i need more” you pleaded. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his restraint finally snapping as he began to move in a quicker pace, rocking into you with deep, measured thrusts that left you gasping.

caleb groaned against your lips before pulling away, his hands gripping your thighs as he adjusted his position, sliding his hands under your legs before lifting them onto his shoulders. the shift made you gasp, the deeper angle sending a shiver through your entire body. the perfect angle he knows to get you into a mess. he leaned forward, pressing your knees closer to your chest, trapping you beneath him. 

"c-caleb—" you choked out as he pushed back in, deeper than before, the sensation overwhelming his grip on your thighs tightened as he adjusted, his thrusts being so deep, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with precision. every roll of his hips that kissed your g-spot sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, your moans growing louder with each push and pull. 

caleb’s breathing was ragged, his control unraveling as he watched you writhe beneath him. "look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with admiration. "so beautiful like this..so perfect for me." he places a kiss on your calf. 

you reached for him, hands on his chest to gesture him to slow down. something was building up in your core. sounds of skin slapping filled the room. "i’m-..so cl..close caleb.." 

"i know," he cut in, voice strained as he instead quickened his pace, wanting your release to fall through for him and by him. "give it to me... please let me feel you.." 

with a final, deep thrust, he angled himself just right, sending you over the edge with a cry, your body tightening around him as a warm liquid gushed out of you. the liquid coated on caleb’s cock and inner thighs. witnessing this, caleb groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he came completely undone by the way you pulsed around him. his movements grew more erratic as he felt your walls clamp down around him. the grip on your thighs tightened, as he tried to hold himself together.

"good girl.." he panted, his mind still onto the sounds and the expressions of you coming undone before him. he continued thrusting, now chasing his high. after a while, caleb announces “i’m ugg.. gonna..” his body comes to a stop as he releases his seed inside of you, coating your walls.

the world around you both seemed to have stopped, nothing but the feeling of him filled your mind. caleb's weight sank into you as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

a small smile curled at your lips as you traced your fingers through his damp hair, feeling his body twitch slightly against yours. "that was…" you trailed off, still breathless, your mind hazy from the intensity of it all.

caleb let out a weak chuckle, pressing a soft kiss against your collarbone before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his purple-pinkish eyes, still heavy with satisfaction, softened as he took you in. "yeah," he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. "it was."

he slowly pulled out of you, making sure to be gentle as he settled beside you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. his hands roamed over your bare skin, his eyes full of adoration. caleb reached for the blanket, pulling it over you both, carefully covering you up as if protecting the moment, his moment. he held you close, his breathing still getting adjusted for his body to fit around yours. 

you cleared your throat, lifting your head to face him.

“hey,” you started softly, your voice a little unsure. “earlier… when i said i felt like i was behind, that I hadn’t had any of those firsts… i still feel that way sometimes. even now.”

caleb’s gaze softened, and he shifted, lifting his head to look down at you. his hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a quiet gesture. “you’re not behind, pipsqueak,” he murmured, tender now. “everyone’s timeline is different. and whatever you haven’t experienced yet? i’m not going anywhere. i’ll be right here, whenever you’re ready for all of it.”

a smile tugged at your lips, his words comforting you. “i know. i guess i just needed to hear that.”

caleb’s smile was soft, his eyes full of warmth. he pulled you closer, holding you a little tighter. “it’s not about what everyone else does or what they think. it’s about what feels right for you. don’t ever feel like you’re missing out, because with me… you’ll always have all the time you need.”

you let out a contented sigh, your hand resting on his chest. “thanks caleb,” you whispered. “i’m glad i have you here.”

he kissed the top of your head, his voice with reassurance. “i’ll always be here, pipsqueak.” you begun to doze off, leaving the memory of the night you and caleb in your head. he was right, this is all you’ll ever think about. “goodnight, pipsqueak,” caleb whispered softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. you didn’t have the energy to respond, the last of your thoughts dissolving into peaceful sleep.

caleb smiled down at you, his heart swelling with affection. his hand came up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his gaze lingering on you with a tenderness that he had always felt for you before. you looked so peaceful, so content, and he could hardly believe you were in his arms, trusting and letting him help with one of your doubts could easily fill him for the rest of his life.

he watched you for a while, tracing the outline of your face with his eyes as you slept, aware of the way his heart beat faster with each passing second. with each second having him fall more and more in love with you. caleb smirked to himself, imagining the questions that would come once gideon finds you sleeping in caleb’s bed. he let out a contented sigh, looking down at your sleeping form. “let him ask. i won’t let out a peep” he muttered.

not that gideon would believe any excuse, anyway. caleb could say you had a nightmare, that you tripped and conveniently landed in his bed, or that aliens abducted every other available sleeping surface but gideon would just wag his eyebrows and call it bluffing.

whatever. let him talk. let him annoy the hell out of him. caleb didn’t care.

all that mattered was the pretty girl curled up in his arms, fast asleep because for the first time in a long time, caleb was exactly where he wanted to be. and nothing else mattered.

[the-karma-cafe]

Thursdays | Arthur Morgan

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which the boys are curious where arthur runs off to every thursday night (ITS FOR SEX)

song is Moonshadow by Cat Stevens ! spoiler they be fucking :/ i be making them fuck for real (oh no aaaa no arthur dont have sex with me no aaa that would be terrible i would hate that)

Javier’s eyes track Arthur as he slinks away from the campfire, tuning out Sean’s boisterous storytelling. He knows the gunslinger is readying his horse to leave. He also knows he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, returning around one or two in the morning to slump into his bed after everyone has gone to sleep.

How does Javier know?

Surprisingly, Arthur is a creature of strict routine, and he does this song and dance every Thursday night—without fail. 

Javier furrows his brow, unable to quash his curiosity this time. What on Earth could he be going off to do so regularly? He never came back with meat, so he wasn’t hunting. He couldn’t be off robbing, because when he got back, he didn’t drop anything off at the contribution box. Oh, Javier, maybe he was planning to do so later on? Ah, ah, ah! What do we know about Arthur? Ever the routine-man, he donates to the camp box the second he enters camp, no matter what he just got back from. It’s always the first thing he does. Can’t be shoppin’, ‘cause it’s too late for that. Can’t be killin’, ‘cause he comes back clean. 

A cuff round his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. “Javier! Didja hear me?” Sean said, drink emboldening his speech (not that the Irishman needed much encouragement). 

Javier ignored him, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Arthur was on his horse, trotting away from camp, everyone else none-the-wiser.

“Hullloooo??” Sean needled, pushing his side into Javier’s. 

Javier looked over to Lenny and Charles sitting across the campfire from them, and felt a spark of inspiration ignite within him. He leaned forward, beckoning them closer with his hand. They looked confused, but crossed the clearing anyway, kneeling in front of his and Sean’s log. 

“What is it?” Lenny prompted, his voice hushed. He could always trust Lenny to be discreet.

“Yeah!” Sean added, much louder. ...He could’ve guessed. 

He lowered his voice, smirking conspiratorially. “Where’d Arthur go?”

Sean and Lenny frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but Charles inclined his head in understanding. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Noticed what??” Sean whined, leaning in closer to Charles. “Don’t be keepin’ secrets, now!”

Charles rolled his eyes, waving his hand to shush Sean. He nodded his head to Javier. “Arthur’s been leaving every Thursday night.”

Sean scrunched his nose. “So what? Art’ur leaves all the time!” Lenny nodded along.

Javier shook his head. “But Thursdays are different. He leaves around 10PM, comes back around 1AM. Why the same amount of time?”

Sean was quiet for a moment (if one could believe it), before jumping up from the log, his beer bottle sloshing in his hand. “Let’s go find out!!” he whispered loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Javier couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He was hoping he wasn’t the only one this curious about it. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him. He pushed up from the log, Lenny readying to follow him.

“Guys,” Charles interrupted, stopping their walk to the horses. “Arthur’s entitled to his privacy. We should let him have this—whatever it is.” 

He should’ve expected this from ever-noble Charles. Sean began to argue, but Javier cut him off, knowing he wouldn’t win against Charles. “It’s probably nothing.” he retorted, trying not to feel guilty under the other man’s pointed stare. He turned away, making for the horses anyway. “I’m going. You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t miss this fer the world!” Sean laughed, immediately tagging along. Javier fought the triumphant grin pulling at his lips. He heard Lenny awkwardly shuffle behind them, some whispered apology to Charles.

He mounted his horse, waiting impatiently for Sean to struggle onto his own. His eyes searched the growth around the camp, hoping to find an indication of where Arthur ran off to. He could track, but Charles was the expert. It would make things much easier to have him with them…

The man in question’s voice came behind him. “I’m only tagging along to make sure you don’t ruin whatever Arthur has going on.” He turned to see Charles mounting Taima, disapproval marring his proud features. 

Javier grinned in spite of it. “Excellent! Vámonos!” he cheered, leading the search brigade with Charles by his side, the other man’s trained eye focused on the ground. Lenny followed behind them with Sean drunkenly pulling up the rear. Charles looked as though he wanted to stop him from coming, but seemed to decide against it, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

Charles followed Arthur’s trail down the left path from camp, past the trees, past the tracks, until they arrived in Valentine. Javier felt giddy. 

Charles stopped them in front of the saloon, hopping off his horse to hitch her, the rest of them quickly following suit.

“The saloon?” Sean whispered, creeping up the steps to peer through the building’s windows. Lenny followed behind him, and the two poked their noses over the ledge of the window, trying to sneak a glance within. Charles walked over to join them, and would have looked less suspicious if not for the two idiots in front of him crouched like children. 

Javier approached the window opposite them, casually leaning to the side of it to look in. Not that his subtlety helped him, as again, he was across from three grown men cartoonishly trying to peek inside as well. 

He spied a couple of men that looked like Arthur before finally seeing actual Arthur at the bar. He wasn’t hunched over it, like some of the other patrons were, and instead was looking around at the other people in the saloon, as if searching for someone. What could that be about? He wondered.

Before he could think on it further, Sean strolled into the saloon, Lenny in tow. Charles shared a knowing glance with him before following them in. 

Sean beelined for Arthur, and soon they all surrounded him, clapping him on the back.

“You’d go to the saloon without inviting yer favorite drinking buddy?” Sean accused, roughly pushing at the man’s shoulder. 

“My favorite drinking buddy, huh?” Arthur echoed, his voice not reflecting what Javier knew to be embarrassment on his face. Arthur slumped over the bar, tugging the front of his hat further over his face. 

Sean gasped. “Drinkin’ with me’s a treat! Ye should be so lucky!”

Javier nudged him from his other side. “We were wondering where you headed off to all the time. Had we known it was just the saloon we would not have bothered!” he laughed, waving the bartender over. He would buy him a drink to apologize.

“You too, Charles?” Arthur asked, sounding betrayed. 

Charles sighed, apologizing. “I was trying to get them to leave you alone, Arthur.” Javier couldn’t help but think the man didn’t put up too much of a fight. 

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “‘F that’s all, you can all head on back to camp, I’ll be back soon.”

Sean scoffed. “Why d’you want to be rid of us so-”

A guitar strum floated over from the back of the saloon, and he trailed off. Arthur buried his head in his arms, the tips of his ears red. Javier cocked a brow, looking over.

“Miss me, y’all?” a pretty woman at the back of the room called out, guitar in hand. A couple of cheers and whoops came from the crowd, the saloon filled with noise.

The boys grinned knowingly. 

“Not. A goddamn. Word.” Arthur groaned, his voice muffled by his arms. 

Sean barked a laugh, clapping the man on the back. “Ohoho, ye rascal, we shoulda known ye’d try ta keep this beauty ta yerself!” He wolf-whistled towards the performer.

Javier grinned toothily, leaning in to tease Arthur. “You could have told us you were only leaving to see about a girl, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed up from his slump, nursing his whiskey miserably. “Like you would’ve let me hear the end of it.” He grumbled. Javier pushed his extra drink over to the man, giggling like a teenager. Arthur the Stoic, red-faced and shy about a singer. He never thought he’d see the day!

The woman, having finished her introductions while they teased Arthur, began to sing. Javier watched Arthur turn himself slightly to watch her.

Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Arthur couldn’t help the dreamy smile that twisted his mouth, watching her. She looked so content, fully in her element up there on Valentine’s tiny lifted stage. The piano man to her right had abandoned his duties to drink at the nearest table.

And if I ever lose my hands

Lose my plow, lose my land

Oh, if I ever lose my hands

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to work no more

Her southern accent colored the lyrics, guiding the notes up and down as she pleased. The patrons knew this song, and sang along with her every now and then, but none followed the exact way she sang it, allowing him to easily follow her voice amidst the noise.

And if I ever lose my eyes

If my colors all run dry

Yes, if I ever lose my eyes

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to cry no more

Sean stumbled into the fray, caught in some dance with a couple of other patrons, breaking his trance. Arthur dragged a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt. 

Yes, I’m bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Most nights, he would allow himself to indulge in the fantasy. Convince himself she was singin’ for him, that when they locked eyes across the saloon, she had the same look in hers as he did. 

And if I ever lose my legs

I won't moan, and I won't beg

Oh, if I ever lose my legs

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to walk no more

He downed his drink and reached for Javier’s—anything to give him an excuse for the way he was lookin’ at her. Having them with him just dragged him back to reality: he was just another face in the crowd to her, and even if he did catch her eye, she would just think him old and sour-faced, and leave it at that. 

And if I ever lose my mouth

All my teeth, north and south

Yes, if I ever lose my mouth

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to talk no more

He took another deep drink, feeling that familiar haze begin to set in on the edge of his vision. 

Did it take long to find me?

I asked the faithful light

Oh, did it take long to find me?

And are you gonna stay the night?

This would be the last time he let himself come here on a Thursday night. He was just torturin’ himself, thinkin’ of things that would never be. Head in the clouds, like Micah would say. Christ, he was glad they didn’t think to bring him along.

I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

The drink crept into his heart. If this was his last night here, with her, he might as well fool himself one last time, the drink said. What’s the harm? One last time can’t hurt. It wheedled, and he knew he’d be miserable come morning.

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

He leaned to his right, seeking Javier’s weight to nudge him for another drink (least he could do for ruinin’ his fun), but felt only air. He frowned, glancing around for the others. Sean had dragged Lenny into his drunken dance, Javier was speaking with some well-endowed woman in the corner (who seemed very pleased to have his attention), and Charles… his frown deepened, squinting at the blurry crowd. He couldn’t see Charles. Knowing the women of Valentine, he was likely cornered somewhere, politely refusing their services (although for a man like Charles, perhaps it was free).

Arthur grunted, turning back to his empty glass. Figures that his friends would quickly find company at a place he frequented, and he was left miserable and alone. He plucked his hat off his head, raking his other hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess—no wonder he was by himself. 

“Hey, cowboy.” a voice came from his right, startling him from his wallowing. He turned, and felt his heart jump to see his singer leaning against the bar next to him. 

Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. She seemed out of breath from her performance, but pleased, satisfied with how she had done. 

He gaped like a fish. Say somethin’, goddammit!  

She smiled, shifting her eyes to his glass. She pointed at it lazily. “Be a doll and get me what you’re havin’?”

He nodded dumbly, gesturing wordlessly at the bartender. Seconds later, a replica of his drink sat in front of her. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, eyes trained on the way her lips parted, the amber liquid gliding into her mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

She set the glass back down, giving him a teasing smile. “You mute?”

He shook his head—then inwardly smacked himself for yet another wordless response. “No.” Christ, you can do better than that.

She giggled, and he thought he might die. “What a scintillating conversationalist you are, Mister…” she trailed off, tilting her head. 

“Morgan.” he provided. His mind caught up to the conversation fast enough to ask for her name in turn (he deserved a pat on the back for being so quick-witted). She gave it, and he almost sighed aloud. She had a name she introduced herself with to the crowds, but he suspected it was a stage name, and he had been correct. Her real name was a privilege to finally learn. 

He repeated it back to her, experimentally rolling it on his tongue. She grinned. “Sounds nice when you say it, Mr. Morgan.” 

“Arthur,” he corrected. “‘S just Arthur. For you.” He coughed, turning to order another drink, just to have something, anything , to distract him from the weight of her gaze on him. “I mean, if you want. Morgan’s fine too.”

“Arthur,” she purred. He felt faint. “I like that more.” His next drink arrived and he immediately buried his face in it, unable to meet her eyes. Christ, he was like a teenager. He inwardly scolded himself.

She carried on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I see you here a lot, Arthur.” she gestured over her shoulder to the crowd. “First time I seen you bring friends, though.”

So she had seen him in the crowd all those times? He squashed the thought before it ruined him. He laughed, shaking his head. “Bastards invited themselves.” He chanced a glance at her, her attention on the crowd instead of him. He eyed her drink, already half-empty in her hand, before looking up, up, to the curve of her chest, the proud slope of her neck, the strands of hair falling loose from her updo, her lips, her nose, her eyes… he forced himself to look at the crowd instead. “Don’t you have some adorin’ fans to go talk to?”

She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his eyes focused ahead. “I thought I was already doin’ that.” she sidled closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his arm. Warmth radiated off of her. “Unless you’re not one of my adoring fans.”

Arthur felt heat creep up his neck and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she echoed, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t think you’ve missed a single one of my performances, Arthur Morgan.” he felt a shiver run up his spine. “If anyone’s a fan, it’s you.”

He pulled the lip of his hat down over his eyes. “Maybe.” Guilty as charged.

She laughed, and rounded to his front. She flicked up the front of his hat, and his eyes met hers. He stilled, entranced. There seemed to be a glow about her, some hazy halo enveloping her body. How much had he had?  

“You won’t admit it?” What had they been talking about again? He tried not to focus on their difference in height, how easy it would be to scoop her up, his hands so large on her hips… 

“Well?” He flexed his hands, trying to reign himself in. Her face was expectant: eyebrows raised, pretty lips pursed. 

He shook his head. Couldn’t this woman see he couldn’t think straight? 

Apparently that counted as an answer and she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “You embarrassed?”

Yes. Why did she think he was, again? He sighed. “I’m sorry, miss,” he tried her name again, wanting to say it over and over. “I believe I am too drunk for this conversation.”

She grinned in understanding. “Why don’t we talk someplace quieter, make things easier on your poor head, hm?” 

Someplace quieter? His mind echoed, while his body nodded dumbly, stumbling behind her. She took his hand in her own, leading him up the stairs. His eyes were trained intently on their hands, her hand small, warm, in his, her fingertips roughened from guitar strings. 

What was she doin’, touchin’ a man like him? He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, as much as he knew he should. It felt nice, to indulge. The hazy shroud around his vision encroached further inwards, tunneling his view.  

“Here,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear. She pushed open a door, leading him inside and shutting it behind them. It was suddenly much quieter. He breathed a sigh of relief, some tension leaving his set shoulders.

“Nicer up here, isn’t it?” she prompted, releasing his hand. He ached at the loss. He dragged his gaze up to watch her dance over to the… bed. He gulped, valiantly fighting off the thoughts that sprang up at the sight of her. 

“Mhm.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly where she had left him, staring dumbly at her. What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ a man like him up here, alone with her? She could get herself hurt, or worse. He frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I shouldn’ be up here with you.” He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Ain’t right. You shouldn’ trust me.” his words slurred, but he hoped she was taking him seriously despite it. 

“Why not?”

He groaned. God, her voice. He buried his head in his hands. “I ain’t. A nice man, miss,” he spoke her name again, and god, hoped she couldn’t hear how he loved to say it.

He felt her hand on his arm. When had she gotten up? She was so warm. He lowered his hands, chancing a look into her eyes, hoping he was strong enough to resist their pull. 

Christ, of course he couldn’t. She looked up at him through her lashes, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. He breathed in, unable to bring himself to look away this time. She smelled like the alcohol everything smelled like in the saloon, but a sweet undertone ran beneath it. He was reminded of the saccharine scent of canned peaches. 

Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her other reached up, up, and palmed his cheek, her touch gentle like she was approaching some wild horse. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, his stubble scratching against her skin. 

“How ‘bout,” she started, her voice soft and quiet, “I decide that for myself?”

His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt himself forgetting what she was even responding to. His free hand began to move of its own accord, bumping into her thigh, smoothing up to her hip. He looked down. Just like he had imagined… 

She moved, and his gaze shifted to her face, slowly nearing his. His breath hitched. This was some sweet dream. He would awaken in his tent, frustrated and wanting, would take himself in his hand and relieve himself to the sight of her like this in his mind’s eye. He would wait until next Thursday and slink back to the bar, eager for more. Her lips touched his and he sighed into her mouth, whiskey on his breath. He would stay asleep forever, if he could, lips pushing against hers, nipping at her soft skin, tonguing past it. 

She parted from him, gently, as if to not scare him off. He breathed heavily, eyes lidded, vision tunneled onto her mouth. She started to speak, but he cut her off, pushing hungrily into her, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. He had waited so long, so long. He would take it, even if it wasn’t real. 

She gasped into his mouth and he almost moaned at the sensation. God, what a privilege to finally have her all to himself. To have her in front of him, touching him, kissing him, instead of with her crowd, Arthur by himself at the other end.

Her knees buckled, falling back onto the bed. He huffed, breaking from her. He thrust his hands beneath her thighs, hearing her squeak in surprise. “Easy, girl.” he muttered under his breath, picking her up and tossing her into the pillows at the head of the bed, following soon after. 

He climbed onto the bed above her, and stilled, looking down at her. Her hair had spilled out of its updo, hair piece having been discarded… at some point, perhaps before they had even entered the room? His memory felt hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes softened. “Yer beautiful, miss,” he whispered her name. 

Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Thank you, Arthur.” she breathed. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes slipping down to his lips. 

He reached out, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, twisting it around. It was soft. Of course it was. It was devastating how perfect she was. “I liked your song, earlier.” he mumbled, focused on her hair. 

“I… I’m glad.” she whispered, her hand winding up his arm, to his neck, to his head, to take off his hat. She placed it down somewhere, and her hand soon wound its way into his hair, her short nails scraping at the back of his head. His eyes slipped closed, humming at the sensation. “I was hoping you would be here, tonight.”

He blinked open his eyes just enough to see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice gruff. 

She averted her gaze, blush deepening. “Been lookin’ forward to seein’ you at my performances.”

He scoffed. Now he knew this was a dream. “Uh huh.” He leaned in, burying his nose in her neck. “You don’t gotta lie t’me.” He turned, placing open-mouthed kisses along any skin he could find. Her breath hitched in his ear. 

“I-I’m not.” she insisted. He hummed, laving across a section of skin before taking it between his teeth, sucking slightly. She held her breath for a second, forcing out her next words. “I been… been dreadin’ the day you stop showin’ up,” she breathed out, “and I’d have missed my chance.” 

He parted from her, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. They were lidded, but earnest. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I counted at least ten other men better-lookin’ and closer in age t’you. Yer tellin’ me not one o’ them caught yer eye?” 

“‘S that really so hard to believe?” she palmed his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb. 

“Yes.” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her hand all the same. 

She brought up her other hand, cupping his face. “Look how sweet you are, baby.” she cooed, bringing his face closer to nuzzle her nose against his. “What a cutie-pie!” she teased.

His eyes softened, tracing the features of her face. He wished he could pause time, sketch her in his journal. He’d just have to memorize how she looked, and try his best to replicate it later. Once he woke up, of course. From this dream.

She connected their lips and he groaned, not expecting the sudden contact again. Her hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck and scratch at his shoulders. It felt like she was sucking him in, how truly he could not pull away. 

He rubbed his hand up her thigh, pushing up her long skirt. Her skin was smooth under his rough hand, moving up to grab at the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing and pulling her up towards him. She arched slightly, and he grabbed his other hand behind her waist to pull her closer, closer still. 

Her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples stiffening through the thin fabric. He nudged her head to the side with his nose, moving to kiss down her neck. She sighed in his ear, her hands busying themselves with his arms and shoulders. Drink made him sloppy in his movements, his tongue wetting her neck and chest as he made his way down to her breasts. He didn’t bother to tug the fabric down, instead mouthing over her nipple through the fabric, flattening and swirling his tongue into the mound. 

She whimpered, her hand moving up to tug at the hair on the back of his head, her other moving down to tug her shirt down under her tits. He parted from her while she did so, unable to help the smirk twisting his mouth at her desperation. 

“You like that, doll?” he muttered, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, her shirt bunched up underneath them. 

She stuttered out a response, arching up towards his mouth. Seeing her like this sent a surge of confidence through him. She was his. No one else downstairs got to see her like this. Just him. Only him. He brushed his lips against her nipple, watching her try to push into his mouth. 

He smiled against her, and she whined, tugging his hair. “Don’t tease me, Arthur.” she breathed. Fuck. He took it into his mouth, his hand encircling the other, twisting and toying with it. He would give her anything she wanted if it meant she would say his name like that again. 

He dragged his mouth down, not missing the soft moan she gave at the loss, cool air ghosting over her wet nipple. He kissed down her stomach, moving his hands down underneath her thighs, pushing them up, up. 

He bunched her skirt around her, and pulled back. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He looked up at her. 

Her face was reddened with embarrassment, her hands covering her cheeks. 

“Care to explain this?” he teased, running his hands down her thighs, closer, closer. 

She bit her lip. “I…” she looked away. 

He tilted his head, indicating he was waiting. 

“I… did say I was hopin’ to see you tonight, didn’t I?” she laughed breathily. 

His chest rumbled in approval, looking down at her exposed cunt, already wet without him touching it. “All this…” he drawled, glancing up at her, “for me?” 

She nodded, hiding slightly behind her hands. 

“Too kind to me, sweetheart,” he lowered himself, breathing her in. He kissed her thigh, feeling her twitch. “You shouldn’t have…” his breath ghosted between her legs, and she shuddered, anticipation building. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses inside her thighs, feeling her arch into him, growing desperate. He took pity. 

Gripping her soft thighs in his hands, he licked one long stripe up her slit, gathering her wetness onto his tongue. She gasped, tightening her legs. He forced them open, holding them up. “Be good, princess, or I won’t be good to you.” he admonished, kissing her thigh. 

She shuddered. “Shit, yes, sorry yes, please, I’ll be good, please,” she breathed, trying to wiggle closer to his mouth. 

“Good girl,” he praised, flattening his tongue against her clit, lapping at it softly. She cursed, her hands fisting the bedding. He laved up her slit, once, twice, three times, before closing his lips around her bud, lightly sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it. 

“Fuck, Arthur,” she gasped, and he groaned against her, working his tongue inside of her, circling the entrance before pushing in, lapping up at her walls. He smoothed his hand up her thigh, reaching her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. He pressed gentle circles into it, his tongue spreading into her. She hissed, bucking into his ministrations. 

He pulled away, sliding his thumb down from her clit to her entrance, gently working his way inside. 

“Arthur…” she whined. 

“Yeah?” He teased, mimicking her tone, pushing his thick thumb further inside of her. 

She moaned, pushing herself onto him. “Arthur, please, I need more,” she breathed, meeting his gaze. “I need you .” 

He felt himself throb against his already-strained pants. He cursed under his breath, moving to unbuckle his pants. In his tunnel vision, he didn’t see her move from her position on the bed. 

Her hand came to rest over where his struggled with the buckle. “Let me, baby.” she cooed, moving his hands away. He blinked, letting her move him, watching her smaller hands undo his belt, working his pants down, taking him… oh. She took him out, palming his length. Shit, it looked bigger in her hand. Or maybe he hadn’t been this worked up in awhile. She ghosted her hand up and down, barely fluttering her thumb over the tip. His breath hitched, trying not to buck up into her hand, and failing, miserably. 

She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “Hey, girl.” he breathed shakily, her hand jerking up suddenly. 

She giggled. “Hey, yourself, handsome.” 

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed to be on the other end. He looked away, only for a moment, before feeling a warm wetness engulf him. He gasped, whipping back to look down at her, half of his length having disappeared into her mouth. “Shit, darlin’,” he cursed, his accent dragging at the words. He bucked up into her lips, smoothing his thumb across her cheek. 

She hummed, the sound sending vibrations into him. “God, sweetheart, you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good to me right now,” he hissed, his hand reaching underneath to cup her jaw, squeezing it and guiding himself further in. 

She opened her mouth wider to take him. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, feeling her tongue slide up, her hand taking what her mouth couldn’t. 

She pulled off of him, kissing his tip, pumping her hand over the slick she had left. His breath shuddered. She smiled up at him. “You want more?” 

“God, yes.” he pushed her back onto the bed, muscling her onto her stomach, ass in the air. She squeaked in surprise, and he palmed her ass, squeezing it open to get a better look. God, she was practically dripping for him. He bit his lip, groaning. He rubbed himself up her slit, gathering the wetness there, rubbing it onto himself. “All this for me, darlin’?” he whispered, squeezing her hip. 

She wiggled herself back, trying to take him in. “Fuck, Arthur, it is, please, just fuck me already,” she whined, his tip sliding just past where she wanted him. 

“If the lady insists,” he teased, aligning himself with her, before softly, gently, pushing into her. 

She turned her face into the mattress, moaning, grabbing at the covers. “ Jesus, Arthur.” she groaned, her words muffled. 

He pressed in further. Halfway. “Can’t hear you, doll.” It was taking everything in him to go so slowly. 

She turned her head to the side, pushing back to take more of him in. He hissed, his hands twitching on her ass, squeezing her. 

He let out a breath, finally fully seated. He didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t. He gyrated against her, desperate for some kind of friction. A whine built in his throat. “Can-” 

Before he could ask, she forcefully pushed back into him, and he cursed, abandoning all hesitation and fucking into her. She cried out his name, arching against him. She was so tight and hot around him, her ass bouncing back against him with every thrust. It was all he could do to keep himself standing, his vision focused solely on where their bodies met. 

“Ar-thur,” she gasped, her breath shuddering, “God, God, you’re so big Arthur, Jesus Christ,” she moaned, her words starting to devolve into sounds with no meaning. 

He kept himself rooted deep within her, barely pulling out before slamming back in again, and again, and again. Her hands grasped for purchase anywhere, everywhere, on the bed, moaning noises that almost sounded like his name, pushing back into him with every thrust. 

Shit. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer. 

“Miss,” he breathed her name. “I, shit, I-” he grabbed her thighs, his fingers bruising in their pressure, forcing her back into him. 

She whined at the pressure, growing limper. 

“Fuck! Fuck,” he yanked himself from her, grabbing at himself and finishing on her back. 

She had collapsed into the bed, giving a small satisfied moan. He breathed heavily, immediately grabbing a towel from the closet and cleaning her off. “S-Sorry, Miss.” he caught his breath, “Should’ve grabbed the towel before doin’ that on you.” He discarded the towel, placing a small kiss on her back, then immediately wondering if that was too much.

“What?” she said, muffled a bit by the covers. She turned, pushing herself up to sit and look at him. She frowned, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, cowboy.” Her frown twisted to a smile, “I oughta be thankin’ you for such a nice time.” she teased, pinching his cheek.

He suddenly grew bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’ know about all that, but I definitely am thankin’ you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly swollen… he had so many things to remember for his journal. “Best dream I’ve had in awhile,” he mumbled, moving to get under the covers. 

She joined him. “Dream?” she laughed, “You still drunk enough to think you’re dreamin’?”

He shrugged, opening his arms. She shifted into them, laying her head on his chest. “Could be stone cold sober and still think this was a dream.” He pecked her head. “I’ll miss you in the mornin’, girl.” 

She snorted, but snuggled into him anyway.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Arthur groaned, the light only hitting his closed eyes, but giving him a headache all the same. His back didn’t hold the ache it usually did, though, laying on this terrible cot. It was the small victories, he guessed.

He thought back to his dream last night, and sighed wistfully. What he would give to have that right now, his cock painfully hard this morning. He forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. 

A hand reached across his stomach, ghosting against his length. He jumped, looking over to his side. “Well, good morning to you, too.” she yawned, lightly playing with him, a teasing look in her eye. 

He blinked. He squinted.

He rubbed his eyes again.

“Holy shit.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Bonus

The woman placed the guitar against the wall, happily engaged in conversation with some of the patrons closest to her stage. “Excuse me,” Charles butted in, stealing her attention from them. 

She turned to him, confused, but polite. “Yes, sir?”

He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry, Miss, but could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor, don’t it?” she laughed.

He nodded in understanding, and pointed to Arthur, hunched over the bar. “Do you see that miserable man over there?” She looked, and stiffened in recognition. “He has been coming to this saloon every Thursday night, just for you.” he turned to her. 

A blush painted her cheeks. “You’re kiddin’.” she laced her fingers together nervously. “He’s never said anything to me.”

Charles shook his head. “My friend—he is shy with women.” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Especially women he likes.” The woman’s blush deepened, her gaze darting over to Arthur. He straightened up. “All I ask is that you talk to him. I’m afraid my friends and I have ruined his Thursday, and I’m sure that would cheer him up.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. He could tell why Arthur was so taken with her. “He sounds sweet,” she spoke softly. “I would love to.” 

He thanked her, watching her make true on her word and walk over to Arthur. Charles noted his reddened ears and fumbling fingers and smiled. Hopefully, this would make up for it.

[kayentokk]

Hey :) How are you doing?

Okay so, i wanted to request a platonic father Aizawa in which he is out patroling and he finds his teen daughter doing something ilegal with her friends or something like that.

Please and thankss :)

A/N; I’m okay thanks for asking! Love this idea, I’ve gotten many requests somewhat related to this lately actually! I’ll be posting those throughout the week. Also sorry it’s taken me a while to get to this! 🥲 I truly believe Aizawa is a girl dad and a softie parent. 

Pairing; Platonic!Father Aizawa x Fem!Daughter Reader

Contains; a little ooc Aizawa, fluff, soft, drug mentions, reader is about 16-17 like mha characters, quirk-less reader, death mentions, bad friends, comfort

wc; 1,763

You weren’t supposed to get caught. In fact, you didn’t even think you would. It wasn’t a big deal anyways, you only did it because you thought it’d be a way to relax with your friends. Plus, if you guys did get caught your backup plan was your father. It wasn’t like he was going to detain you…right?

Wrong.

You were very wrong to believe that your father wouldn’t take you into custody over a little weed with your friends. You just wanted to have fun! Besides, you didn’t want to be the ‘perfect heroes daughter’ who’s a buzzkill. Why couldn’t he understand that? 

There was just so much pressure that came with being the child to a hero. Your friends already joked about how you were too ‘good’ to do anything remotely illegal. Which is part of the reason you were in this situation in the first place. 

Of course he just happened to be patrolling around the alley you and your friends decided to get a little high in. That was just your luck, he didn’t seem mad though. So you thought he’d just tell you guys not to do it anymore, and move on. Nope. Leave it to Aizawa to want to teach you a ‘lesson’ all of a sudden. He was normally just a “don’t do it again,” kind of parent. Mostly because you had never done anything of this caliber before.

“Did you really have to bring me in?”

Silence.

“I mean come on, none of the other heroes care. They’re too busy thinking about protecting the city, shouldn’t you be too? Nobody cares about a couple of kids getting a little buzzed, besides everyone does it nowadays-“

“That doesn’t make it okay y/n.”

You’ve rarely seen him like this, so tense. He didn’t look angry, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you got that he was. It was almost….scary. 

So you resigned to a simple, “Okay, I’m sorry.” Were you really sorry though? Not that much, you still didn’t see the big deal. 

He let out a low grunt, “This is serious y/n, I know you think I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” well he said it first, “but you could’ve been seriously hurt.”

“Hurt? From getting a little high?”

“Criminals lace that stuff all the time, whether it’s with poison, more drugs, or whatever else they decide-“

“Yeah sure, but we got it from a trusted source-“

“And who’s that?” He said crossing his arms. 

Oops.

You decided it’d be best not to respond right now. Especially since the source wasn’t technically trusted, just another kid who got it from someone else. Who probably got it from someone else too.

Sensing your apprehension he decide to drop it, “we’ll revisit that later,” he said waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll drop you off at home, you’re grounded.” 

You internally groaned at that, grounded? That’s a new one, you were starting to really regret your decision. You should have just told your friends no, even if it meant being the ‘buzzkill.’ Then you remembered, your friends-

“What about my friends?”

“We’re working on calling their parents to come pick them up soon.”

“No!-“ you said sharply, “I-I mean, can’t you just let them off? Or something?”

“You know that’s not how this works, they are already getting off with a minor offense. The worst they’re going to get is their parents’ scolding.”

“Dad! You don’t understand-“

“I understand perfectly fine, a bunch of young kids wanted to ‘have fun’ and thought this was the best way to do it.”

Okay maybe he did understand, but not your side. He didn’t get that now you’d officially be the outcast, the top 10 ranked hero’s daughter who gets everyone in trouble. Does he get how embarrassing that is? 

“Come on, let’s get going.”

You stood from the chair leaving the comfort of being shielded, by the small desk separator, from your friends’ piercing gazes. They thought your dad would let you all off too considering the chaos the city’s currently in. 

You nervously waved and mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to them before rushing out the door trying to follow closely behind Aizawa. 

You guys didn’t speak the whole way home, you opted for silence mostly because it wasn’t that big of a deal and he just didn’t know what to say. You had never done anything like that before, or had he just never caught you? When did that start?

He remembered when you were little and you’d give your vegetables to stray animals so you didn’t have to eat them, or when you tried to sneak out at night and he caught you. But those were all pretty minor things, and he was only always concerned with your safety.

You’d never done anything this bad, and in terms of the worst thing you could do of course this wasn’t horrible but he still didn’t get why. It couldn’t have just been for fun.

He entered the house after unlocking the door and opening it for you. Before you could make it to your room, where you’d probably go to sulk, he decided he’d ask.

“Why did you want to do that y/n?”

You stopped and turned around to face him. He was standing in front of the door, and now that you actually took in his appearance he looked tired. His dark circles more prominent, eyes a light pink most likely from his quirk, and his black pants had small patches of dust that had been hastily patted off on them. 

You replied after a moment, briefly forgetting his question, “For fu-“

“And don’t just say for fun, because I know you and there are plenty of other things you would do for fun.”

You huffed resigning to just come out with it, “it was a bet.”

“A bet?”

“My friends bet me that I wouldn’t get high with them since I’m a hero’s daughter.”

“And you decided to take them up on that?”

“Yes, I know it was stupid okay?”

“I know you know, you’re smarter than that. So why’d you say yes?”

Why’d he have to be so persistent? “Maybe because I thought I’d finally get some friends.”

“What do you mean y/n? You do have friends.”

“No, I don’t. Momo, Tsu, and Uraraka only hang out with me out of pity, since you’re their teacher, if they even have time-“

“Pity? Y/n no they don’t, there’s nothing pitiful about you at all-“

You scoffed, “don’t lie. I get you’re my dad and all but be honest with yourself, truly honest.”

“I am being honest. I’d never lie-“

Guess you’d just have to spell it out for him then. “The only daughter you had killed your wife, was born quirk-less, and there’s nothing special about her!” You were shocked at the admission of your own feelings but kept going, “I don’t have a talent, I’m not exceptionally smart, I’m not breathtakingly pretty, and I can’t even make friends!” You listed raising a finger for each reason, “Now tell me what about that is not pitiful?”

After that question there was silence, and Aizawa was just looking at you. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until the first tear slid down your nose crease and hit the corner of your lip. Before touching could even wipe your tear or register the sound of footsteps approaching you, you were being hugged. Fully covered by his arms, your head grazing the bottom of his chin where stubble had began to grow, face buried partially into his scarf. 

You heard high pitched wailing, which you hadn’t even registered was you until his hand began to rub up and down your back with quiet ‘shh’s to try calming you.  

“Don’t cry, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, none of it okay?” He began whispering in your ear.

“Your mom and I both knew the challenges she’d have if she gave birth to you. We were well aware, and she wanted to have you. She didn’t care if she’d die in the process, you are our child.”

He continued comforting you, and when you eventually calmed down he let go and gently pulled your face out of his chest so you could look him in his tired, red eyes. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry if I don’t tell you that enough okay? It’s my fault I’m sorry. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’re perfect. I mean that, I’d never lie. You don’t need a quirk, to be super smart, or have a special talent. You’re perfect to me, okay? And that’s all that matters. You’re important to me,” he said firmly. 

“Okay?”

You sniffled, reaching a hand to wipe your nose, “okay.”

“Hey,” he said turning your face back to his, “I really mean it, I’d be no where without you. And how could you say you’re not beautiful? I know I’m not the best looking hero, but haven’t you seen the pictures of your mom? You take after her, gorgeous. Nothing I’d ever change about you, I don’t regret anything.”

“Okay,” you said slightly unused to him saying these things, “I’ve never heard you say something so corny dad,” you said chuckling trying to lighten the mood. 

At that, he gave a small grin which faded when he remembered your earlier point, “And Ochaco, Tsuyu, and Yaoyorozu do like being your friend. Not just because I’m their teacher, trust me I’m more of a supervisor if anything. I let them figure most stuff out on their own. They wanted to meet and hang out with you. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, you make friends just fine.” 

“I know, I know, it was just heat of the moment stuff dad.”

He let out a sigh of relief, hugged you once more, and pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

“I still have about another hour of night patrol, but I’ll stay here if you want me to?”

“No dad, it’s fine go.”

He looked at you once more as if saying, ‘are you sure?’ 

“Yes I’m sure I’m fine, it’s only an hour anyways.”

“Okay, call me if you need anything, I’ll be back soon,” he said headed towards the door.

“Okay,” you said starting to walk to your room. 

But just before he shut the door you dashed for it and started, “Hey! does this mean-“

“No you’re still grounded,” he said. 

And with that the door shut.

@/cafekitsune for the divider!

[dumbseee]

you’re losing me. pt.2.

part 1.

daniel ricciardo x singer!reader.

fc: bibi (korean singer)

note: this won’t have a part 3.

y/n just posted a story!

caption: red bull for the win :)

you finally had a day off after months of being at the studio, working your ass off for your upcoming album. you also needed that day to finally relax and focus on yourself after how horrible these past few days have been. you thought that you and daniel were meant to be, but apparently he couldn’t picture a future with you in it. when max called you late that night when you were still crying over the break up, and told you that daniel actually broke up with you because he cheated, you thought you’d die of heartbreak. the very next day, max came to your house and stayed with you to cheer you up. but of course, max was just a friend to you, and most importantly he was daniel’s best friend. as much as you hated him at the moment, you couldn’t do that to him.

you were watching your comfort show when the bell rang, you frowned since you didn’t expect anyone today but still got up to open the door. what surprise it was to find daniel, on your door step, completely wet because of the pouring rain. your eyes widened at the sight. "d-daniel? what the-…" he cut you off immediately. "max lied to you, he lied, i never cheated on you i swear on my fucking like y/n, you have to trust me please. i never loved anyone more than you, i would never do-…" he said quickly, you didn’t understood everything. "woah, woah, woah, get in first you’re going to catch a cold!" you shoved him inside your house and closed the door behind you. you grabbed a dry towel and threw it at him. "thanks." he simply said, you crossed your arms and looked at the ground. "can you repeat what you said? we’re not in a rap show so slow down." he nodded before taking a breath. "max lied to you, i never cheated." you frowned and looked at him completely confused, why would max lie to you?

"daniel, why would max do that to you? he’s your best friend for god’s sake." you said, throwing your arms in the hair, you were completely lost and frustrated. daniel took out his phone and showed you his last messages with max. your heart slowly dropped to your stomach as you finally discover the truth. daniel wasn’t lying and max betrayed the both of you. you didn’t know what to say, so you simply let yourself fall on your couch. daniel followed you and sat next to you. the driver didn’t know what to do, he saw how miserable you were right now and tried to think of something to cheer you up. "i believed him instead of you." was the only thing you said, you were so disappointed in yourself. daniel looked at you and took your hand. "i don’t blame you for that, i would’ve reacted the same way to be honest. and maybe max is right." you looked up at him, trying your best not to cry. "i was just a stupid coward, i never loved anyone or anything more than i love you y/n, no one ever made me feel like you make me feel. i guess that scared me." he looked at the ground while you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "you were scared of falling in love?" you asked, softly. he nodded and intertwined his fingers with yours. "but i’m done being a coward, i know that i hurt you y/n, and i know it will take time but do you think that you’ll be able to forgive me?" you smiled before jumping in his arms.

he did hurt your feelings, but you missed your danny.

liked by landonorris, y/n, carlossainz55 and 4 719 929 others.

danielricciardo: love always triumphs :)

_

y/n: ♥️

landonorris: i missed you guys

danielricciardo: awwww

landonorris: i actually missed y/n more but had to include you too

fan1: i’m so glad they sorted it out, it would’ve been a shame if they stayed on bad terms

fan2: i feel so bad for daniel tho, he lost his best friend he always referred to max as the person he trusted the most

fan3: max needs to be held accountable tho, how could he do this??

fan4: y/n in her reputation era was a slay but y/n back in her lover era is better because she’s happier

fan5: these two are made for each other, i hope they finally understood it

fan6: the caption omg

fan7: her smile always shines the brightest when she’s with daniel

fan8: we got y/niel back but lost maxiel forever :(

fan9: max literally LIED to y/n so she would hate daniel, my guy is better off without him tbh

fan10: right?? i don’t understand people saying they’ll miss maxiel when max has been a terrible friend to daniel, he literally tried to ruin his relationship with y/n

fan11: now get married

fan12: please be good to her :(((

view all comments.

taglist: @iissza @ferrariloverr @eugene-emt-roe @hrlzy @pampeop @celesteblack08 @sialexia @myxticmoon @lifesuckslife @slut4peterparker @leclerc16s @incoherenciass @gaviypedrisbride @gaslysainz @lazybot @xjval

[deathbxnny]

So tumblr decided to screw me over and posted the ask too early, which made me delete it in panic and lose the original ask. However!! I thankfully saved the first part of the ask, so here it is:

May I please request Yanqing learning to play a flute because he heard his s/o singing and wanted to be able to join?

Sorry again to the Anon. I also added/changed up the idea a little, so I hope you guys like it!!<33

Content: Established relationship, reader is a singer, teen reader, Jing Yuan being a smug menace, kind of unserious, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns!

((Not proofread))

The trouble of young love. (Yanqing x GN!Reader)

"You... want to learn how to play the flute?" Jing Yuan muttered in near disbelief, his brow raising high as he gazed down at the determined boy, who gave him a simple nod of approval. "Yes. And preferably, by the end of this week." He stated as though it was the easiest thing in the world to simply just learn an instrument in under a week. The general unfortunately didn't doubt that Yanqing genuinely believed that, however.

Jing Yuan blinked in surprise before glancing around quickly in thought. Was this another prank of his? No, it definitely wasn't that simple.

"... And why?" "Oh well... uh..." Yanqing nervously pulled at the collar of his uniform, suddenly slightly flustered and unwilling to share what had gotten him so awfully motivated in the first place. Not that the older man really needed to hear it, as he already had an inkling on what, or rather who, it could be. "... Does it even matter why? I've just been feeling very... musically inclined lately." Jing Yuan snorted at that despite his better judgment, which made Yanqing scowl in offense.

"I'm having a hard time believing that, Yanqing."

The blonde crossed his arms in defiance. "You're not even taking my request seriously, Master." He said, watching as said man leaned back in his chair and near mockingly crossed his arms as well. "It's not that I'm not taking this seriously... it's just that you've never had an interest in such artistic things before." He clarified, even if Yanqing knew better than to believe that it was just an innocent inquiry. "Besides... learning to play a flute is the same as wielding a sword. You need alot of time and patience to hone your skills. A week won't suffice." "And if it is?"

Jing Yuan now grinned in amusement, having expected to be challenged on this. He supposed that this would make for a good teaching lesson in the long run and whilst it may not be the most responsible thing to do, he decided that this would also serve as a form of small punishment for disturbing his "work" in the grand office.

Ah, young love... truly a troublesome thing.

The older man figured that he was doing all of this for you only. Yanqing mentioned your fear of singing in front of large crowds before, and therefore, it didn't come as a surprise that he wanted to do everything in his power to make his lover happy. In a way, it made the general proud to see the boy slowly grow into a young man... even if it came at the cost of his sanity at times. You had changed the lieutenant of the cloud nights in many ways. Some good and some awfully questionable, to say the least. But he figured Yanqing would learn such things on his own in due time.

"Consider me defeated." "And I get a raise to my allowance?" "Perhaps I'll consider it, depending on how well you play." That's all Yanqing needed to hear, the excitement and fire that burned in him at the prospect of not only beating his own master and then also getting more money to share with his dear dove made him immideatly turn and filter out of the room with no further comment. Unknowing of the perilous path he'd have to take in order to learn the art of this instrument.

He was confident that he could make it in under a week so that he could accompany your singing during your first ever stage performance in the grand theaters of the Luofu, which is the whole reason he wanted to learn how to play the flute in the first place.

It couldn't be that hard after all, right?

---

Well, after a good 5 days of relentless training, he still couldn't play more than notes akin to demonic screeching. The general was fair enough to lend him a fancy flute from his own youth, alongside a guide and a couple of traditional music sheets. And yet, it all ended with him laying sprawled out on top of them, the instrument carelessly tossed onto a nearby pillow, whilst he stared up at the ceiling with a deadpan.

Perhaps he truly had underestimated the sheer power of the flute.

But he couldn't claim defeat. At this point, it had become something personal. A challenge that neared one of life and death. If he lost now, then the general would bring this up for centuries to come, and Yanqing did not want to live through that personal hell. Sighing deeply, he rubbed his tired eyes.

Surely, there had to be something he was doing wrong. And yet he just couldn't figure out what it was. He hadn't slept or rested properly in days either, having been too focused on this life changing mission that he just had no care for anything else. But the self-doubt was beginning to creep in, and he didn't know if he was more upset at himself or at the general. He simply wasn't as talented as you were musically.

And just as his eyes were beginning to flutter shut in defeat, your melodic voice breathed life right back into him. He inhaled deeply, quickly drapping a couple of blankets and pillows over the flute and music sheets before he quickly summoned a sword to act as though he was polishing it. Entering the room with an obvious air of worry and nervousness, you gave him a weak smile.

"Yanqing." You hummed gently, perhaps even nearly shyly as you approached him and took a careful seat next to him. His hand reached out and pressed it's palm against your warm cheek, a tired smile gracing his lips. "Hello there, my dove... it's late out. Why are you here?" He asked, nervous that you'd notice the golden flute that was sticking out from behind a pillow a couple meters away. But thankfully you only had eyes on him, as you fidgeted with your hands.

"The last rehearsal is tomorrow... and I'm starting to have doubts... especially after I heard the rumor regarding the general and the Master Diviner attending the performance as well! I didn't know it was going to be such a big thing..." And it wouldn't have been if Yanqing never mentioned a word of it. He should've guessed that his master would eventually figure out his plans and attempt to get first row seats to view his defeat. Something about it filled him with strong determination, the need to win resurfacing in his heart. If not for himself, then you.

"Don't worry about it. Just focus on your singing, and I'll take care of the rest." He said, a serious look on his face that made you raise a confused brow. Yet you thankfully didn't dwell on his cryptic words any further due to him swiftly changing the topic to more mundane things to keep you distracted.

He eventually walked you home, your hand in his, the sun having set completely hours ago. It was a calming moment that refocused his mind and soul on the task at hand, which he ofcourse immideatly resumed once he returned to the estate. It didn't matter to him if he had to stay up 2 more days for this to work.

He'd play the most beautiful sounds on the flute to accompany your singing and if it's the last thing he did.

At this point, he was perhaps just doing it to wipe that smug look off of his mentors face.

---

"Alright! All done... you look great, (Y/N)!" One of your friends grinned as she fixed up the last details on your rather lavish performance clothes. You tried to weakly smile back, unable to help the deep feeling of fear that ran through you. "Is the theater room full already?" "To the brim! And the General and Master Diviner have also arrived just now... man, it's a real fullhouse tonight." She trailed off, missing the way all color seemed to leave your face.

You had hoped that it was a simple rumour, but after sneaking a peek from behind the curtains into the grand hall, your fears truly did come true. Jing Yuan was casually leaning back in his seat as he conversed with Fu Xuan about a topic that made the woman deadpan at him in annoyance.

This is definitely going to be a disaster, you concluded with an affirmative nod.

"(Y/N)? Please get in formation. The performance is just about to start." The director whispered to you when the lights dimmed and you were pushed towards the stage. Your heart was beating against your chest, your mouth feeling dry. How were you supposed to do this? You couldn't do it. The fear was too great.

And it didn't help that Yanqing was nowhere to be seen in the crowd.

Gulping as the music started, you shakily opened your mouth when suddenly the most melodic symphony of a flute accompanied your at first trembling voice. You blinked in surprise, eyes glancing over to see your lover resting atop a fake tree as his fingers moved along the instrument. Finally understanding everything, you turned to the audience with newfound confidence. Your voice traveled throughout the entire stadium and bewitched it's listeners. No one could look away if they wanted to.

And by the end of the performance, no one could stay seated either, as they cheered and clapped loudly... except for Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan, who still looked hardly impressed next to the general. They watched as Yanqing approached you with a wide smile, your arms immideatly wrapping around him in sincere gratefulness. Giving the man an expectant look, the Master Diviner crossed her arms with a frown.

"Well? What type of teaching moment was this supposed to be?" She asked, not being convinced of his ways of teaching at all anymore. Jing Yuan kept staring ahead, a calm and victorious smile on his lips whilst he watched you and Yanqing happily talk on stage. "That he should learn how to be patient and not overdo things that take time, unless he wants to reap the consequences." Fu Xuan raised a brow, obviously very much unimpressed. "You do realise that this just proved to him that he doesn't need to do that?" "Ah no... he won't do it ever again. Just wait." He simply replied, his grin widening when Yanqing's face dropped. There was a pause... before the boy suddenly just finally collapsed into your arms and chaos broke out.

Fu Xuan gave Jing Yuan a near horrified glance, the older man only continuing to smile in content.

He did try and warn him after all.

Alrighttt... I hope this was fine, Anon!! I once again apologize for accidentally deleting your request and hope this was okay enough to make up for it!!<33

[starry-bi-sky]

part five of "clone danny"

Danny returns home later that night with a dislocated shoulder from Skulker and his fair share of scrapes and bruises after facing off with a handful of ectoplasmic animal shades. (All of them stuffed inside his thermos with Skulker that he'll toss in the Zone tomorrow after school.)

He shoves his mask back into his pocket, and hides his bat in the bushes at the side of his house under his window, then rounds back around the front to go through the door.

...Mainly because if Bruce Wayne was still awake, it'd be suspicious if Danny made it home without ever using the front door. He sneaks back in, and slooowly starts closing the door.

"You're back late." Says a surly, young voice that startles Danny into slamming the door instead.

"Fucking--!" He cuts himself and breathes in slowly, trying to slow his elevated heart rate before looking over his shoulder to see who the hell scared him.

Glaring at him like an upset parent would, with eyes cutting like sea glass, is Wayne the Sequel... or perhaps he was the seventh sequel. Danny is silent for a moment. "...You're up early." He says, maybe a bit petulant. "Does your dad know you're up this late?"

"Father permitted me to stay up and wait for your return, actually." Damian sniffs, and if anyone could make 'scowling' into a vocal tone, Danny would have thought it'd be Sam. But Damian beat her to it.

Danny turns around slowly to face him, arms crossing. "Yeah, uh-huh." He nods slowly, "Like I'm gonna believe that. Do you normally sit in a random stranger's kitchen and interrogate them when they get home?" He tilts his head for good measure.

"No." Damian says. (He is, in fact, lying.) His eyes narrow at Danny as if he had committed a terrible crime by being in his presence. He looks down to Danny's hands. "Father said you left with a bat. Where is it?"

"I lost it." Danny replies, biting the inside of his lip to prevent himself from smiling.

"You... lost it?"

"Yup." He says blandly. "Whoops."

-------

Danny goes up to his room immediately after that and collapses on his mattress to pass out for the next three hours until his alarm goes off.

Much to Danny's luck, Bruce and his son are literally only there for a few days, and he spends as much time during it to avoid them like a plague (while also dealing with his dislocated shoulder, which should reliably heal in half the time thanks to his ectocontamination). Damian does whatever during the day since he doesn't go to Casper High.

Something to note as we get out of the 'fic'-y part of this post -- Daniel J. Fenton was, largely, the sexual awakening to many people in his grade in Casper High School, including many A-Listers. However he is still "Daniel Fenton" so many of his classmates will take that fact to their grave. And to their personal friend groups.

Does this have any impact going forward? Not really so far, no.

Dodging a Wayne-sized bullet doesn't mean that Danny can dodge the Wes-sized bullet, and finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with an irate Wes Weston who demands to know where he was last nice.

Of which Danny, not needing to drop his smartass comments in front of the guy who already knows his ID, responds by calling him a jealous ex and sidestepping him completely. following up with if Wes isn't careful, then Danny might just think that Wes has a crush on him

(Wes does, in fact, have a crush on Daniel J. Fenton. He will take this secret to his grave.)

Ellie shows up in his kitchen, sitting on the table with her legs crossed while chatting amiably with Bruce Wayne a few days later when Danny returns from school. When Danny asks how she got inside (the door is typically locked), Ellie smiles toothily and fangily, and happily tells him that she came in through the window. And that he needs to tell his parents to invest in locks. She has long hair the same length as him. It's like looking into a mirror, one he is welcome to see into.

It is endearingly Ellie-like to know that she all but broke into his house, and seeing his sister-clone-twin relieves some of his tension. Only a little though when Bruce Wayne was still in his house.

Normally he sits and talks for hours with Ellie. But instead he takes it to the stairs, telling Ellie that he'll be in his room when she's done talking to Mister Wayne. He is a stubborn ass who doesn't even bother to ask where Wayne the Sevquel is.

(He runs into Wayne a one or two more times the following nights. Wayne asks him where his bat is on the second night, his son says he lost it. Danny agrees with him, and Wayne asks with a touch of concern what he'll do if he comes across a ghost.)

(Danny shrugs and says he hasn't before. And comes back home with a bruise the size of a large cat on his hip and a couple more along his torso and legs. his knees hurt from rough jumps with poor landings. Damian is waiting when he gets home. They exchange a few barbs and Danny hightails it up to his room.)

(Danny's face is obscured by the lack of lights and the shadows in the corner. Its the only reason he feels even a modicum of comfort in exchanging a few words with Wayne.)

(Ellie is waiting outside for him the day she meets Wayne, and asks him if Wayne knows. Danny says he wouldn't be avoiding him if he did. Wayne probably wouldn't be as nice as he was now if he knew.)

("You don't know he won't be nice after finding out." Ellie points out while he's digging his bat out from the neighbor's bushes this time.)

("He's not me, Ell." He says, frowning. "We don't know that.")

(Ellie sighs sadly, and Danny feels a tinge of guilt. "You can tell him if you want," he offers, "you don't have to hold back on my behalf.")

("I want to tell him with you, though. C'mon, we're twins.")

(That night Danny avoids breaking his other arm after a run in with a large ecto-serpent. Ellie nearly rips out its tongue for it. She's more ghost-like than he is. Possessive and violent and very, very passionate. As if he wouldn't do the same if pressed.)

(Ellie gives Danny a piggyback ride home, the wind filtering through the grills of his mask and force-feeding him the taste of freedom. Damian is there while they sneak back in, stifling their laughter under the meat of their palms.)

(Danny may or may not have reached out and ruffled his hair in his joviality when he passed him by. Grinning painfully when Damian bats at his hand like a disgruntled kitten. His hair feels like feathers and the sensation sinks itself deep into Danny's star-in-the-sky sized core-obsession like a suggestion.)

(He might regret it in the morning. It will fade in time after the Waynes leave.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Taglist: @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour

[stolitzsings]

💖, 🖋 and 👨‍👩‍👧 for the ask game! (I probably got at least one of the emojis wrong but hopefully they still make sense 😂) - @blitzwhore

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

Can't believe you're gonna make me think of something nice to say about myself 🤣 I've been told I have a very "lyrical" style of writing, and sometimes I'll write a sentence or paragraph that flows really well and just Hits. I love those moments when I feel like I've really nailed it at a word-for-word level.

👨‍👩‍👦 Do you tell people in real life that you write fic?

Most people in my life know I do writing of some sort, but I'm pretty vague with the details lol. I only talk about writing fic with irl friends who also write/read fic (and I don't tell most of them that I write smut, just bc I know it isn't their jam). I told my therapist I write "character studies," because what is smut if not horny character analysis? 🤣

🖋 Post a snippet from a current WIP

Putting this one under the cut!

Ok I was a little nervous about sharing this because it's from a longer AU I've been toying around with, and historically I'm very bad at sticking to longer projects. But regardless of what I do with it I had a lot of fun writing this scene of M&M tormenting Blitz lmao

Blitz could feel his face heating up. “He isn’t— It’s not like—” Fuck, he was losing this one fast. “Okay, so maybe we’re boning or whatever, but it’s just a casual thing, you know? It’s not like we’re dating or anything.” Moxxie raised an eyebrow. It was almost impressive how smug he looked. “Who said anything about dating?” “I think he just did, babe.” Okay, now they were getting on his nerves. He could feel his spines starting to bristle.  “Look. It’s just a convenience thing, ‘kay? He gets to have his bad boy fantasy, and I get a reliable fuck who I know won’t steal my kidneys while I’m asleep.” It wasn’t like Stolas would ever really consider a relationship with someone like him. Disowned or not, he was still a royal. And that was fine! Blitz didn’t want anything complicated, anyway. Fucking was easy. It was comfortable. It was all either of them was looking for.  “If you say so, sir.” Moxxie had somehow dialed the smugness up to eleven.  Blitz rolled his eyes and walked towards the door. “I’m firing both of you. And I’m keeping your shares for today.” He was pretty sure Moxxie started to say something in response, but he was out the door before he heard it.  He let himself stew as he made his way down to the parking lot. “Looking for excuses,” for fuck's sake. They were hired killers! What did they expect? He was going to get injured sometimes. And it only made sense to go see Stolas, who knew more about this shit than any of them did. Besides, a quick fuck sesh was good for you, or something. Boosted your sero-whatever levels. Got your blood pumping. It was basically healthcare, anyway. Talk about a bedside manner, he thought to himself, grinning. He made a mental note to use that one with Stolas later. He'd think it was funny.

“C’mere, B, let me take a look at that scratch for you.” Millie had opened up their first-aid kit and had just finished bandaging a shallow cut on her thigh. Blitz looked down at the wounded arm that she’d gestured to. It wasn’t serious— an annoyance, more than anything. He shrugged. “Eh, that’s okay. I’ll just have my guy take a look at it.” Millie eyed him skeptically, like she was trying to catch him in a lie. “You know, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with this mysterious “guy” of yours lately.” Moxxie looked up from his paperwork with a conspiratorial smile. “You’ve been seeing him for everything, even minor injuries. Almost like you’re looking for excuses to pay him a visit.” Oh great, the famous M&M tag team. “What? No, I haven’t.” Even he knew he sounded defensive. “Sure looks that way to me.” Millie crossed her arms and perched on the edge of the desk so that she and Moxxie could give him the double stare-down. Cute. “Are you sure that medical attention’s all he’s been giving you?”

Thank you for the ask @blitzwhore! I'm still answering these prompts if y'all are curious 😊

[the-blind-assassin-12]

20 Questions for Writers

I was tagged by the lovely @maggiemayhemnj - thank you!!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

Ten. I was cross-posting everything for a minute there, but I lost steam and now I only post here - except for Aphelion, which I am co-writing with @something-tofightfor. That still gets posted in both places.

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

68,449 - not counting Aphelion. My tumblr word count is... a lot higher.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Right now just Pedro Pascal characters.

4. top five fics by kudos?

Gonna go by notes on tumblr instead because that's where most of my stuff is:

Bes'laar Din Djarin x F!Reader (based on artwork by @stealyourblorbos!)

Survivor Blues Joel Miller x F!Reader

Forever Din Djarin x F!Reader

The Cold Offends Me Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (The Viper & The Wild Thing universe)

Point of No Return Ezra x OFC Clara

5. do you respond to comments?

I try to respond to all comments because I appreciate them SO MUCH MORE than I can accurately convey. I love hearing from people about what they liked or what shocked them or what made them feel things, and I really love the chance to sort of have a micro mini chat about it in the comments. That being said, sometimes I completely check out and miss a whole batch or a whole fic worth of comments goes unresponded to for far too long. And I always feel bad when that happens, which sometimes results in me responding to things WAY after the comments were left, to the point where it wouldn't surprise me if the person has already forgotten the fic/what they wrote... but I haven't forgotten how much it meant to me that they read and commented on my work. So even if it's 6 months to an eternity late, I intend to respond to them all.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It Pours From Your Eyes Joel x Tess

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I feel like most of them have happy endings, but we'll go with A Little Christmas Magic - Frankie x F!Reader as perhaps the fluffiest happy ending.

8. do you get hate on fics?

I have gotten non-fic specific hate directed at my writing before, but that was a few years ago and it hasn't happened since. Which is cool because the fewer people wasting their time and energy on being unnecessarily mean about things - let alone about stories about silly little fictional guys - the better.

9. do you write smut?

I do, but I do not consider it one of my strong suits, and I typically only include it if it fits with the overall story though a few times I have written smut just to be filthy as a challenge... and as a treat.

10. craziest crossover?

I've been slowly spinning a True Detective x Tim Rockford crossover like a rotisserie chicken for months but I've only managed to jot down a few unconnected snippets thus far. And a title. It's gonna be called (maybe, if I ever actually write it) Flat Circle, Twisted Game.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, but if I did I would be absolutely PISSED. And I can't say I'd be nice about it.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but that would be cool AF.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! I am currently co-writing Aphelion with @something-tofightfor and it is so much FUN.

14. all time favorite ship?

In all honesty it's probably Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt. I was straight up ready to stop watching Parks and Rec if they didn't end up together.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

lol what kind of passive aggressive, self-doubt feeding question is this? I'd like to finish them all and I try like hell to believe that I will.

16. what are your writing strengths?

I think it's probably describing natural settings? But maybe dialogue. Idk.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Smut. Also keeping the momentum to finish things in a timely fashion, but mostly smut.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I try to only use it when it makes sense or when it benefits the story and not just as like... a novelty or an afterthought.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Teeeeeeeeeeechnically? Like first one I ever made content for? I guess that would be the Twilight series. But I will not be sharing where to find that here. And if you find out where it is, you take that knowledge to the grave with you, you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME, FRIENDS?

20. favorite fic you've written?

Even though it's nowhere near done, I love and am so very proud of Survivor Blues. But then again, even though it's a few years old now and I feel like my writing has grown since finishing it, Point of No Return will always have a very big piece of my heart.

Tagging: anyone who sees this and wants to play! Please tag me so I can see your answers!!

[1d1195]

I (🥭) am back with another story with my coworkers!

So the guy I originally was talking to and ended with after he didn’t want to be friends, yesterday he’s been telling my manager that he misses me and still likes me and wants to get to know me. he said he thinks I want nothing to do with him, but he’s the one that didn’t want to be MY friend. my manager told him not to text me before she talked to me about this first (he didn’t wait, he texted me anyway).

However, I’m talking to someone new, someone who is putting in effort in wanting to see me and flirt with me and just talk to me in person and not just over text. I am not going to just drop him because the original guy is finally developing and wants to be friends. I don’t want to lead either of them on, you know?

Yesterday, the original guy had a shitty day because he and another coworker he’s been having issues with for months almost fought (other guy started it, wasn’t his fault this time!) and my manager was like “he had such a bad day and you’re still the person on his mind, he still really likes you.”

all that just puts me in a tough spot because the new guy I’m “talking to” (we haven’t been on a date or texted so much, just planning to hang out but might be as friends, I’m not too sure) is so sweet and mature. but the original guy has also always been sweet to me , just seemed too nervous around me and I can’t fault him for that.

More updates when he texts back after I tell him I won’t lead either of them on and that he has to deal with me wanting to be friends first !!

btw sorry I haven’t been here in awhile, I still read your posts every time you upload and I love everything! Love hockeyrry!!

Hmmm! Look at you with all the boys fawning over you 🤭 you deserve it!

Here is my unsolicited advice:

My gut reaction is the first guy is too little too late. I understand the nervousness but he should have said it ages ago (like the night of your date). It doesn't sit right with me that he was weird on your date and then told you he didn't want to be friends? Sus. ESPECIALLY where you have this new guy doing all the right things and suddenly he's like "I DO like her." (Also it's lowkey messy that he's got issues with other coworkers. (Although I won't lie, I'm a little toxic and the fighting can be kind of fun 🤭). My worry is that he'll get all weird about you liking the new guy and cause more issues and then you'll be out two guys? Idk, that's a little extra and maybe a little dramatic, but hopefully you'll catch my drift).

If I were you, I would see where the stuff with the new guy goes. He seems more put together like you said. It would be worth saying to the original guy that he's too late and you found someone who was willing to put in effort right away so you want to explore that. You could even say "I think you're very sweet and I would have liked to explore where things could have gone but I'm not going to lead another person on because you took too long. Maybe our paths will cross later on but I want to focus on what's best for me."

Obviously you don't have to listen to me. I've only been in a couple relationships myself. I swear I have I "coached" a lot of friends through relationships (lol) and not that I put TONS of stock into my students' relationships at the high school level but I'm REALLY big on making sure they are treated properly. I don't stand for teenage boys leaving someone they like on delivered for DAYS and I am a huge believer that you shouldn't have to beg for attention--especially now that you're getting attention from elsewhere.

I wouldn't blame you if you decided to see where things go with the original guy, I just wanted to give you my perspective from the outside! As long as you're happy, I'll trust your judgment! 💕 I hope you don't think I'm too harsh either💕 It's nice of you to say you won't lead either of them on. That is extremely mature and it's good of you to be up front. If one or both can't handle it then they can shove it.

You never have to apologize for not writing! I love to hear from you but it's not expected! Glad you're enjoying hockerry 🥰

xoxo

[starkerhowlter]

Princess Parker -- 9

Rating: M Ship: starker (tony stark / peter parker) Tags: Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fashion Designer Peter Parker, Engineer Student Tony Stark, slow burn, stolen moments Summary: Tony Stark’s in love.

But not with the conventional. Instead, his soulmate is known for temper tantrums about pink lemonades that are too sour and scuffs on the toe of his Louboutin shoes. He’s materialistic, superficial, and cares way too much about his face.

So why can’t Tony stay away?

Read below or on AO3

This fic was beta'd by my favorite human in the world: @cozysafechaotic and I couldn't be more thankful! A special shout out as well to my sprinting goblins in the Super Starkers Discord for their believing in this fic and helping me through writing it and nailing down these crazy kids into their lovely selves. Thanks so much, guys.

I promise that I haven't forgotten about this fic and I swear the last two chapters are waiting in the queue to post in the next two weeks. Life got in the way and I graduated college!

9 -- Fated Arrangement

        Bucky jumps when Loki corners him a week later. "What the hell are you doing, man?" 

"I need your help."

"And 'Hey, Bucky, I need your help' wouldn't have worked?"

"No. Of course not." Loki scoffs, leading the boy to a table on the patio. "I need your help crossing social lines."

"What?" 

"Tony has a crush on Peter."

”And this is news to you? I thought you guys knew everything.” ?" Bucky arched his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Peter has a crush on Tony too." Loki clarifies.

Bucky  replies confused, "And what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?”

"Peter and Tony need to meet up and talk through all this frustration.” Loki waves their hand in the air ambiguously. “We’ll use one of the empty fashion classrooms.”

"That would work, but neither of us know where that is."

"Gods you absolute cretin. How you have made it this far in life is beyond me. The fourth floor of the Nelson building Room 425." The fashion god rolls their eyes and takes a sip from their $11 latte.

"Oh, like you know where every classroom on campus is.” Bucky sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. When do we want to do this?" 

"2:30 today. There’s no classes in the room for an hour before or an hour after. No one around to witness whatever social travesty may occur.”

"Perfect. I will be there with Tony." 

"Don't get caught, Peter specifically requested privacy."

"Why?" 

"He's terrified of "social suicide" or something. Which I can respect," Loki confesses with an eye roll, "but, he also feels that because it’s a Tuesday."

"I mean fair." Bucky shrugs, "So 2:30 in the Nelson building?"

"Don’t be late." Bucky nods, walking away from the fashion student, rolling his eyes. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky said, dropping his tray on the table and pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth, smiling at the feeling of Steve’s fingers in his hair. “Yo Tony, check your phone.” Bucky nodded towards Tony as he took a bite of his apple. 

"O...kay?" Tony pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket and reads the texts from Bucky. He nods, silently, looking up and seeing Bucky show Steve the message he’d sent Tony, traitorous romantic bastards. Tony tries his best not to scarf down the rest of his food in his excitement. “I have to go, see you guys at dinner possibly?" The others at the table nod, smiling. Tony swears out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve give him a thumbs up. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tony stares at himself in the mirror of his dorm, unsure of what to wear for this. “What do you wear when you meet someone like Peter?” He asks Freddie. 

When the poster (obviously) fails to reply Tony sighs with a laugh. “Useless”

 Searching his closet, he decides on a white tee with his vintage leather jacket over it was good enough. His jeans have tears in them, but not in the way that it looks like he can't buy better ones. Instead, it's in the 'artful' way. 

He cracks his neck, staring at Freddie on his wall. "Wish me luck, mate." He murmurs, touching his hand to the worn spot on the corner of the poster, where Freddie's mic stand leaves the frame. "This could change everything."

_-_-_-_-_-_-

Peter is in the same predicament. Staring into his massive closet of designer clothing, trying to decide on the perfect appearance for the meeting with Tony. He pulls out a dress shirt from Anton Alexander. It's a swear-by shirt for Peter, usually saved for presentations and job interviews, but today, it's for meeting his soulmate. 

Is Tony his soulmate? Peter picks out a pair of red jeans and his black Louboutin Samson’s, dressing carefully in the clothes. He brushes out his hair, smiling as his curls fall into place. He picks up a tube of pale pink lip gloss, brushing a ghost of the color onto his lips before touching up the simple eyeliner from earlier that morning. He nods, just as Loki knocks on his door. 

"Hey, are you ready for this, Peter?" Loki asks, opening the door. Peter nods again, smiling at his friend's reflection in the mirror. Loki has gone green with their outfit today, the color a perfect match for their complexion and a simple statement of 'you can't afford me.' Peter turns to them, "Do any of the others know where we are going?"

"Nope. The only people who know are Bucky, Tony, you, me, and probably Bucky's boyfriend."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for respecting my wishes for privacy.”

"For sure, dahling. I wouldn't want you fucking yourself over royally just because you had a little crush on a boy. But it's already 2:07 and I doubt you want to keep the boy in question waiting?" They asked with a teasing smile, checking their watch dramatically.

"Shit! No!" Peter gasps, grabbing his keys, wallet, and phone before locking the door to his dorm room; Loki following close behind.

_-_-_-_-_-_-

By the time Tony and Bucky find the Nelson Building, It's already 2:10. "Fuck, I hope we aren't late..." 

"No, Tony, he said 2:30. We're meeting them in room 425."

As soon as they enter the building, they feel out of place. The white marble staircase leading them to the second floor greets them and there are pictures of notable designers that are alumni of the school. "Holy, woah. Why have we never been in here?" 

"Clearly, we don't belong in here," Tony whispers, leading Bucky to the elevator. The gold doors part and open to the marble interior, and the two step inside, pressing the button for the fourth floor. The elevator dings gently, and begins rising to the selected floor. It dings again, as the doors part. This floor is different from the main lobby. The walls are pastel green, and the ceiling is covered in drawings of clouds. It almost feels like a children's hallway. All of the doors are closed and the hallway is dark. "Are you sure this isn't a prank? Bucky this hall looks abandoned."

"Loki said 425. They should be here. What would they gain from pranking you?" Bucky sighs, "Just... let's find the room and then we can decide from there." 

Tony nods, following the signage that leads them around the corner to room 425. 

Bucky motions to the door, "Here it is. Want me to go in first?" 

"Sure. Is anyone in there?" He asks, picking at his nail nervously.

Bucky glances in the window, "Loki and Peter. I don't see anyone else." He catches Loki’s eye as Loki starts towards the door.

Loki opened the door and gestured for Tony to enter. “Well, in you go.” They said as the fashion major exited to the hallway.  Bucky and Loki shared a smile between them, as they leaned against the wall, guarding the door. 

"Um... hi." Peter begins, "Sorry about this." 

Tony smiled at Peter. “All good.” 

Peter chews his lip nervously, the movement catching the other boy’s eye. Just before Peter catches him, he quickly begins glancing around the space.

"So what’s this room for?" The walls are covered in patterns and fabrics, and each model on the back wall is wearing some form of costume. The desk Peter is sat on is clearly his, judging by the leather and glitter adorning the drawings next to him.

 Tony smiles gently, meeting Peter's eyes. Oh hell, how he wishes he hadn't. The moment their eyes meet, he feels like he's come home. Everything that Tony was ever worried about was gone in that minute. He looks so fucking perfect sat slightly above him on the table.

 Oh, how Tony could get used to that view. 

"Oh, it's for Design 101. It's purely for teaching us how to create our own patterns and trace them onto fabric and how to create clothing items. It’s basically a studio."

"But wait, I thought you were a Chemistry major?" 

"Actually, I'm both.” he shrugs dismissively, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.  “I’m double majoring with a minor in environmental science," Peter flushes, pridefully. 

"That's really impressive.” Tony stammers, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So” Tony stammers, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So which do you want to use in your future?" 

"I think I want to work with fashion more, but maybe use my chemistry knowledge to write out formulas for new colors and fabrics. The environmental science minor is just a brain workout. Don’t want to come off as a ditz now do I?"

"That's, wow, that’s something. You’ve got some serious balls taking on the hardest major for fun." Tony replies, reveling in the way Peter preens at the compliments. A soft blush tints his cheeks and Tony resists pressing a kiss to the boy's forehead. 

"But we didn't come here to talk about that. I asked you to meet me here because--"

"Time's up." Loki says as they open the door and nodding towards the hallway.. "If you both want to make a break for it, now's your chance. The next class comes in ten minutes."

"Fuck, why can't we ever have time alone. It's like the universe is keeping me away from you," Peter pouts.

"I know, but there's a funny thing you should know about me," Tony leans in and for a moment Peter thinks he's going to kiss him again. Just before their mouths connect he murmurs, "The universe doesn't stop me." Tony pulls away, leaving Peter gasping on the desk.

"It's true," Bucky jokes, leaning against the door frame with a reassuring smile."If he wants something, nothing will stop him." He nods towards Tony with a shrug. 

Peter returns the smile. "Thank you. For doing this, I mean." 

Bucky nods, "Absolutely. I mean, you should thank Loki, they arranged all this. We gotta roll though if we want to avoid people questioning us." 

"Alright. Can I have a minute with Tony though?"

"I mean, I'm not his keeper, but I’m gonna get out of here. Catch you two around." Bucky winks at Peter, texting as he heads out.

"Bye, Bucky!" Peter smiles. 

Tony turns back to Peter with a soft smirk. 

"I just wanted to… I just” Peter stammered. “I'm sorry I'm gonna go." 

As the boy passes, Tony touches his wrist. "No! What did you want?" 

Peter sighs, and curses under his breath. He grabs Tony's shoulders and twists towards him, moving to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek. Before he can, however, Tony turns his head to meet Peter’s eye. 

"Well, I was trying to kiss your cheek but I suppose this will do," Peter said with a soft giggle, pressing a gentle kiss to Tony's lips, shoulders dropping at the feeling of familiarity. "I’ll see you later, okay?" 

"The third-floor ballroom? No one uses it after dinner. We can sneak in and no one will see us.” 

"Deal."

"See you tonight." Peter kisses Tony's cheek and sits down at his desk, watching Tony leave. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-

The evening couldn't come fast enough. Tony fights the urge to hang out outside the classroom, waiting for Peter to return. 

If he didn’t think it would jeopardize Peter’s social status, he would press the boy against the wall and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of him. Right here, right now. 

Everything in him screams for Peter, for the boy he can't have.

--

Thank you so much for reading!!! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are MUCH appreciated!

[eliotquillon]

About 'twenty and some change'... I hate to ask again but the fact that its all written is killing me. I don't care if its unedited, I'd still read it. That's all, Love your work!

always a jumpscare when i get a mortal instruments ask hahaha

ANYWAY. THE THING IS i care SO DEEPLY if it is edited :’) and the more i think about it the more i hate the unpublished parts. like yes it is technically all written but not in a way that works with what’s posted, because the posted sections underwent massive structural edits that mean what i currently have doesn’t really work. so in all honesty i think it will probably get a massive overhaul before it gets finished. and also my style has changed a lot since i started writing this fic back in 2020 (!!) which doesn’t help. when i’ll get the time to do that is ??? (incredibly busy at the moment + have a ton of other fanfics on the go) but in the meantime though i’ll tide you over with a section of what WOULD have made up chapter 5

“I can’t come to dinner tonight,” Isabelle says. “Tell Max I’m sorry.”

She’s breaking rule number one of being Isabelle Lightwood, which is calling her mother, and watching Maia clatter around in the kitchen with a frying pan. Isabelle wonders, idly, if there’s any stock in what Jace said about her sleeping with Lily. Maia does seem more relaxed than she did yesterday.

“Why?” Maryse asks. After a beat, she says, “Are you sick?”

She’s offering Isabelle a way out, a leading question befitting any good cross-examination, and Isabelle wants to hit something. It’d be so easy just to take her up on the excuse, is the thing. But Isabelle’s been making too many excuses, lately; she’s never been the kind of girl who takes the easy way out, and it’s beginning to grate. Isabelle watches Maia fight with the stove for a moment, takes stock of the purple bruise visible on Maia’s hipbone from where her shirt is riding up, and says, “No.”

“Who are you talking to?” Maia asks. Her expression is suspicious; she probably thinks that Isabelle is talking to Simon again.

“My mother.”

“Christ,” Maia pulls a face. She waves the pan threateningly. “Let me know if you want me to brain you with this. Put you out of your misery.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Isabelle says, and lets her gaze flick back to the carpet. Maryse still isn’t talking. “What, Mom, you’re not gonna argue with me?”

The silence is excruciating. In the end, all Maryse says is, “You’re an adult, Isabelle. You can make your own decisions.”

“You’ve never believed that before,” Isabelle says. “You always find a problem with whatever I want to do. My job, the guys I date, the way I dress.”

“Alec is worried about you,” Maryse ignores her. “I know it’s usually the other way round, but you should pick up his calls.”

“You should be the one worrying about me,” Isabelle says. The words feel slimy and acidic in her throat, like vomit. “Not Alec.”

“Oh, Isabelle,” Maryse says softly. It sounds like a sigh. For a moment, Isabelle thinks her mother is going to say something else, but then the silence takes on a different tone and she knows that Maryse has hung up.

Isabelle scrunches up her hands into fists. She imagines punching the wall. She counts to ten, and then she lets go. She’s - tired, of being so angry all the time, of hating her parents so much, of wishing Alec could hate their parents. She’s tired of pretending she didn’t spend all day yesterday with Simon Lewis and liked it. And she’s tired of wishing she could hate Magnus Bane, that Alec is the weird one for wanting a functional relationship, that her hang-ups about dating are anyone’s fault but her own. The truth is that it’s really, really tiring, being Isabelle all the time.

Someone is knocking on the door. Isabelle is content to ignore it, but after about a minute or so Maia sighs, gives up on her breakfast, and glances through the peephole.

“It’s your brother,” Maia says, and then, realising that that doesn’t really narrow it down, “Alec.”

“I can’t deal with him right now,” Isabelle says. “Tell him to go away.”

“Tell him yourself,” Maia retorts. “I’m not getting in between whatever shit is going down in Lightwood town this weekend. For three people so freakishly enmeshed, you guys really need to learn how to talk to each other properly.”

That’s Maia for you: always frustratingly straight to the point. Isabelle sighs, but Maia has a point - she’s already inextricably lodged into this mess, anyway, given that Simon is her ex and Isabelle is her roommate - and so she shuffles towards the door and is met with a faceful of unimpressed older brother.

“Cough, cough,” Isabelle says flatly, using Maryse’s earlier ready-made excuse. “I’m sick. It’s contagious. Go away.”

“You’re the worst,” Alec says without heat. “Let me in, Isabelle.”

“Nope,” Isabelle says pointedly, getting ready to shut the door on his face.

“Izzy,” Alec pleads. “I’m not going until you talk to me. You look awful.”

“Probably because I’m sick.”

“No, you’re not,” Alec says. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but let me help you fix it.”

Deep down, Alec has always been a fixer. He’s not great at advice, and he sucks at repressing his endless need to lecture, but Isabelle has always made messes and he has always helped clean them up. She studies him, takes in the dark shadows under his eyes and his strained posture, and she knows Maryse wasn’t bullshitting about him being worried sick. She’s been purposefully ignoring him for over forty-eight hours, and, yeah, they didn’t fight and she’s physically fine but. This isn’t really what they do.

“Fine,” Isabelle relents, and steps aside to let him in.

“I’m going to see Lily,” Maia says as Alec walks in, breakfast abandoned and her bag slung over her shoulder. “I’ll tell her you said hi.”

“She really doesn’t need encouragement,” Alec sighs. It’s a sigh of great affection.

“You’re the one who made me be friends with her,” Maia calls on her way out. “Can’t rue what you’ve created, Lightwood.” She lets the door slam behind her, Maia’s own way of saying get it together.

“Jace thinks they’re fucking,” Isabelle provides helpfully, resuming her former seat on the couch. Anything to delay the interrogation that’s going to inevitably follow. “Lily and Maia, that is.”

“It pains me to say it,” Alec says, “but Jace is probably right.” He hesitates, but after a moment he curls up next to her - the way he used to do when they were kids, with shorter limbs and shorter tempers, his freakishly long legs bracketing her like a comma around a clause. Isabelle hesitates, too, and then she melts into the touch. She’s missed him, she realises. Alec is only three subway stops away and they’re all grown up, but still. She’s missed him.

“Mom told me about your boyfriend,” Alec says into her hair.

“There isn’t one,” Isabelle says. She says it quickly, lets the words run into each other so she doesn’t have to dwell on the fact that, maybe, she would like there to be one.

“Yeah, I guessed,” Alec shrugs. She didn’t need to avoid him at all. “You don’t really tell Mom anything important before you tell me. Where were you planning on going with that, though? Out of curiosity.”

“Paid Maia’s ex $20 to be a nightmare,” Isabelle grunts. “Was going to pay him, anyway. He would’ve been a great fake boyfriend. He likes Star Wars and he plays in a band and we had a thirty minute conversation about ovaries. Mom would’ve had a fit.”

“You like Star Wars,” Alec says.

“The prequels,” Isabelle says dismissively. “He’s an original trilogy fanboy. And it wouldn’t have worked, anyway. I needed him to make me look unhappy, and he was just too nice.” The arm wrapped around her waist tightens momentarily, and she squeezes Alec’s hand.

An absurd part of her thinks she’s going to cry. Isabelle doesn’t usually bother with tears or hysterics, likes to save that particular weapon for her siblings, but she doesn’t particularly feel like herself at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Alec says after a moment, “if you felt like I was flaunting my relationship in your face. I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

“Shut up,” Isabelle says furiously. “You always apologise for the dumbest shit. Your self-flagellation act wasn’t cute when we were fifteen, it’s not cute now. It’s not about that.”

“Isabelle-“

“It’s not flaunting,” she hisses, “to be happy. I want you to be happy. Magnus makes you happy. You shouldn't have to hide that. That was the entire fucking point. I thought maybe if I gave Mom and Dad a one-night only encore of the ‘Isabelle’s awful taste in men’ routine, they’d learn to shut up about yours.”

“You think I have bad taste in men?”

“That’s not what I meant, jerk.”

[umichenginabroad]

Let the games begin: The Last Hurrah :(

Week 10

It’s our last full week here! Time really flew by and I can’t believe that I’ll be back in Michigan soon. To make the most of it, we stayed booked and busy to cross things off our San Sebastián bucket list. For the remaining days of our research, we also had a lot to finish up for final presentations. No more afternoon naps, we had to make this final rally count!

My week technically started on Tuesday due to the unfortunate bus situation from over the weekend (read last week’s post for that experience). I went to the beach to soak up some rays and then Jayashree and I went to this restaurant called The Yellow Deli. Maybe this is a hot take but I would say that this became one of my favorite spots to eat in all of San Sebastián, even though it doesn’t specialize in pintxos. It was mainly the vibe of the place that we enjoyed the most since it was like a funky woodland medieval tavern. The cheesecake and hot cider were a perfect combo of pure delish. Mateo always raves about the cheesecakes he eats everywhere he goes but I think he’s really missing out on this one.

On Wednesday we went to La Mamma, our favorite pasta place, since Izzy hadn’t been yet. This time, Deidra decided to try a new dish and I’ve honestly never seen someone experience that much anguish over food before. At first, she said it had a little bit of a kick to it but that didn’t seem to phase her yet. As time went on, poor Deidra started to crumble and it was obvious that the spice was winning. Sweat, tears, and hopefully not blood went into Deidra persevering like a champ through her pasta. Very proud of her for that effort, and I would show a pic of the aftermath but she’d probably kill me if I did so here’s us before Deidra’s five stages of grief:

Bataplán Thursday! At long last we got Izzy and Diego to go to the club with us for one last night out. The funny thing is that Diego kept trying to convince himself to not go but this guy ended up being the life of the party. The club life in Spain starts late and goes on into the wee hours of the morning which is definitely not for the weak. Even though we had work Friday, it was worth it to have fun with the group and do round two of arm wrestling yet again in Bataplán. Later on in the day, we got ready for one last trip which is special because of the…

Olympics!

Friday afternoon we boarded the bus to Bordeaux, about four-ish hours away to go see an Olympic soccer match. I’ve never watched an actual match in person before, so I was really excited to see all the hype and wear my San Fermín fit again in support for the one and only ESPAÑA! We did a lot of exploring the city before the game and found that it was super cute with highlights being castle gateways, a ferris wheel, mini arc de triomphe (nearly every european city has one for some reason??), and a reflection pool. To fuel for the game, we had an energizing lunch courtesy of the huge carrefour market in the city center. You can get a rotisserie chicken, roasted potatoes, and a dessert for like €5?? We then made our way to the stadium on the crazy packed and sweaty tram, then finally made it in and got our dream picture with the mascot of the olympic games: Phryge the French Hat. 

Our seats were in a good spot pretty much right in front of the goal. Earlier in the day, I had bought a spanish flag to wear like a cape and to wave around during the game. As honorary spaniards, all of us had to represent and we. didn’t. disappoint. After every goal we were putting in the WORK to do the chants like our lives depended on it. Spain won 3-1 against the Dominican Republic and I like to think that we were a tiny part of causing that win to happen. I feel like before this game I didn’t really understand what made people so crazy about soccer, but being in the stands in person changed that perspective for me and I had a fun time! At the end of the day after having the sun blast down on us in the stands, we were collapsing. Refueled at a Canadian restaurant where I tried poutine for the first time and it was pretty tasty. Then, ended up back at the reflection pool where Izzy and I went on a rampage of splashing each other to the point where our pants were beyond soaked and I had to wear my flag around me like a skirt. ‘Twas a good end to a good day!

Next week will be my final reflection post, so come back for my last blog ever, tears already! :(

Olé, olé, olé!

Emily Dobao

Biomedical Engineering

IPE San Sebastian, Spain

August 2nd, 2024

[pwblogarchive]

June 2006

June 1, 2006

a letter to myself 10 years ago, from myself today (idea lifted from d.e.)

dear peter,the first and foremost. i miss you. not the people around you or the world you call yours. i am not who you think i am. i am not who they say i am- by "they" i mean the lovers and the haters. i am in between, still normal and ordinary. i dont know what you would think about the place i am standing right now. its funny i never pictured myself here, simply because i did not picture myself existing anymore. i am sure you know what i am getting at. its kind of funny almost. after seeing the top and the bottom. id have to say there is a much better view from the top, but you have alot more friends at the bottom. even when im trying to disappear its halfhearted. im almost there. you know? the only thing you got is that goddamned pen forever. it will be buried in your hand. youre gonna learn alot of things but none of them will include: unconditional love, modesty, grammar, or impulse control. id like to think that you wouldnt hate me. but who am i kidding? spotlight or no spotlight thats always kind of been your thing- its just kind of funny that its in fashion right now. i never did anything just for a buck back then, and i still wont. dont give up on me. in some ways i think i am walking away from all of this as we speak. here are some books you should read they will make your head rest easier at night, more importantly they will help you understand yourself:the old man and the seaour lady of the flowersthe green hills of africathe motel lifethe every boythe heart of darknessfirst love, last ritestake care of yourself. i am waiting on a letter from ten years from now

.posted by xo @ 2:05 PM

June 3, 2006

my phone cuts out in the same place every single day ("the gospel of gossip").

dear 310,

you can truly think yourself to pieces.

writing too fast for you to keep up.

and why would you want to anyway?

true oranges and sedated blues.

or is it the other way around?

i am millers paris. she is always humming. i hate it.

i wish for autumn. i am always thinking of breath in the air and leaves burning somewhere. somehow i attatch it to feeling okay.

in a running home from school kind of way.

just as easily as you run away from your problems, you can run home to them.

moodswings have kind of become protocol around here. like something you have to cross off of a checklist and then have your supervisor sign.

there isnt enough breeze in the suburbs tonight.

i imagine them to be like italy sixty years ago, only with less flamboyance and wider streets.my head is sticking to the pillow like sleep doesnt want to let me go.

writing alot lately. its like i always just want to mean something, something more than me.

its getting old.

i want to be more.

you make me want to be more.

to be shot out into space or to discover a cure to something terrible.

you cant denie, there is something nice about chicago. calming.

where your waiter is just your waiter and the doorguy is just the doorguy. not the place where everyone wants to be something they're not.

not as thought it matters but it feels safer.

she looks at me like she knows how fragile i am.

but i, we, all have inside of us continents like he said. vast and lush. full of guns and loves.

like the two were different by definition.

but they are the same. linked if only by the way that you will always remember your first ones.

then she said, "many african cultures dont believe in the concept of future".

fuck your futures.

Posted by xoat 4:16 AM

June 5, 2006

Stick around long enough and everyone becomes parody of themselves (see also: if it could happen to the egyptians if could happen to you).

you dont hate me, you hate the part of you that is like me. i cant sit here and ride my flaws until the end because the truth is i live the charmed life because of you and them. we are a gang. maybe its time to disband. im not sure i am thinking clearly but i just want you to know that i waited on you guys calls all night- they never came. i just wanted to say i miss you or im sorry or you know something that would have meant something to you. i would have made it poetic and memorable or at least something you could laugh at while drifting off to sleep. always trying to relive the glory days.

i dont care how poorly these sentences were constructed or how in the light of day i will wish i had not written them- right now i can only curse the fucking light off of this stupid western city because it wont ever get dark enough for sleep but otherwise how could you guide your way back here?

my head always feels warm right before i pass out, i always worry that there is something wrong and i wont wake up or you know i will. promise me that you wont take anything i ever say too seriously

June 9, 2006

“jim dear and darling.”

sometimes its like whats the point in anything. i am glad i have figured you out. it took one million times. but on one million and one i gave up on you. its the opposite of losing your virginity, its the opposite of dreams.im glad i got the chance to be a complete nerd and talk to superheroes on the red carpet. im glad i didnt waste it on movies and people i wasn't obsessed with. i am glad i am three thousand miles away from you right now. i am glad for the view out of my window. it doesnt feel like a prison more like a new start. its funny the way a wish and a curse are so close to each other, just like a grudge and a promise.thank god that shit wasnt live cause i have a mouth like a sailor. edit.im not a boomerang and youre not badnews. were just nothing at all. thanks for helping me figure it out. two lies in one sentence has to be a new record for you, so congratulations.sometimes the people that i only know through these songs and this screen make up for ones i have known for years. thank you for your birthday wishes. they meant alot to me. whether you know it or not.the birds are starting to sing the world awake at my house. get here soon morning."i wish i could stop being around people, i guess i am just addicted to it."w.e.

posted by xo @ 2:19 AM

June 10, 2006

“lets be alone, together.”

"here we are, alone again. its all so slow, so heavy, so sad... ill be old soon. then at last it will be over.so many people have come into my room. theyve talked. they havent said much. theyve gone away. theyve grown old, wretched, sluggish, each in some corner of the world". celine "death on the installment plan"i think i hear the tapping of rain on the roof but only in my head because i wish it so. i have some romantic idea of myself in some dirty apartment in paris writing words that will be cirtically analyzed and translated into languages from countries that i didnt even know existed. but this isnt france in the 30's and i dont have the knack for that kind of wit. tried to put my hand through a wall today in a disagreement i had with myself. i came out ahead and behind if you get my meaning. i think i just wanted a wound to take care of as they seem to be easier to look after than either a plant or a dog. stubborn and stupid are not far off from eachother in the dictionary. we have the same conversations day-in and day-out, im not sure why i even call anymore. just so its not just me talking to myself. though it seems to often be that anyway. im not sure if its schedule or even when it goes into remission its just a phone call or bad day away. i have to hope everyone and everything else is just like this as well or else this is gonna be a pretty lonely ride that goes on for far too long. i am looking at each word that proceeds the word i am currently typing. they look terrible to me right now. or even write now.dear liar, how could i ever ask you to stop. that would be like telling a carpenter he couldn't use a hammer or more like a surgeon he couldn't use a scalpel, because you are indeed precise.sometimes it feels like i am addressing myself surrounded bypeople who are also by themselves.posted by xo @ 10:36 PM

6/11/06 Q&A

question

I just got done watching “Dead on Arrival” and I wanted to know how old was Patrick in that video? Back then he was hot but now he is HOTT!!

answer

im not sure. they had delivered him to my door in a baby basket the stormy night before. the note on the basket said “amazing” but i didn’t realize how true those words were until days later, thanks for adding the capslock, it really captured the feeling.

question

Hey Pete What is your favorite kind of cereal?

answer

currently: frankenberry- 1000 fobrock scene points to the first boardie to name to the two monster cereals that used to be a part of the count chocula family.

question

hows it like being 27 now ? :)

answer

same flaws, concerns and boredoms with just one more candle on the cake. you know what, maybe next year is our year.

question

Have you ever eaten like, four boxes of blueberries before? Cause ya know, blueberries rock hard.

answer

i didnt even know blueberries came in boxes. hence, i am no expert. i like blueberry gum though. i swallowed a bunch when i was little, even though my mom said it wouldnt digest, so that in a million years when they dig up this civilization they’ll know what kind of candy we had.

question

Who cusses the most? Who the most solitary or the quietest?

answer

pete cusses the most and is the most solitary andy or patrick can be the quietest joe likes long walks on the beach holding hands with a man made out of weed… just kidding. we all have different sides to our personalities. just like you morgan.

question

Petah please listen to this amazing song I am obsessing over. It is called EMALINE and it is the live version by Ben Folds 5. I think you will like it. XO

answer

one of my favorite songs ever is this one ben folds song. its called “the luckiest” go listen to it and then have your ears, brain and heart write ben a thank you not for writing it.

question

Hey. Since you guys own Hottopic, could you PLEASE add more H.I.M. merchandise? im looking for a HIM beanie hat online at hottopic.com but i cant find it and i really wanted it. will you please add more HIM stuff?

answer

could hottopic possibly have more h.i.m. merchandise? i love him. im pretty much sure thats all i ever see in that store.

question

can patrick play guitar??

answer

nah. not a single note. hes never even held one. wait i thought that thing said “keytar”. oh a guitar? no he’s never even held one.

question

what keeps you going each day?

answer

sadly. involuntary functions like heart and lungs. but following that: you. honestly.

question

Pete!I just broke up with my boyfriend and I`m completely heartbroken.I can`t eat or sleep.He says the only way we can get back together is if we are friends with benifits.I want him back I just don`t want him to date anyone else.Am I wrong?Thanks for your music-it`s gotten me through some hard times so I wanted to say THANK YOU!!!love you and the boys.

answer

i dont think im qualified to give any advice on this anymore. im pretty much a wreck in all relationships, platonic or romantic.

question

transformers: the movie. how does this make you guys feel?

answer

it will never top the first. with the “you got the touch” song in it when optimus dies. and the way the guy yells “shit” in it. so classic.

question

dose it ever get werid knowing that millions of people know who you are and you have no idea that that person even exsist ???

answer

im not too sure anyone really knows who i am. but in the grand scheme of your question, yes it can be kind strange.

question

Is it okay to feel lonely all the time?

answer

sometimes it seems realistic. other times it just seems too predictable.

question

Peter I made a mistake and I had unprotected sex. I like this guy, but he seems a little strange, bc he makes remarks to me about how he wishes my dad would walk in and see us. He also asks me degrading questions while we are getting intimate, such as where I want it. What should I do about him?

answer

i wouldnt waste my time on someone who treats me that way. i would suggest cutting your losses and finding someone who won’t treat you like dirt.

question

is there any bands you would like to work with?!

answer

the format.

question

Do you think FOB would have the success it does if Patrick has decided to be the drummer?

answer

No.

question

Hey Pete haave you like forgotten about this website or something?

answer

i tried to. but im too addicted.

question

how cum ur older than every1 else in the band? like waaay older. okay not waaaay older but like 3 years or so. just wondering.

answer

andy is 26 and i am 27- patrick and joe are younger because tazakistan wouldn’t let us adopt any orphans our own age.

question

would you guys ever go on Oprah? If she invited you on for an episode. If so, what do you think you would talk about.

answer

sure id just on her couch and say some crazy shit.

question

On 4-14-06 *MEGYN* asked if now that your signed for a bigger label, do you care less about your fans and more about the money and you told her to talk this to the band from under the wallet tree. what does that mean? do you care more about the money or the fans that have been with you since the begining?

answer

no no no, thats the name of the recording studio we built on the moon to record the next record with. i mean we had to do something with all the piles of cash and i was getting sick of lighting cigars.

June 13, 2006

“blue pills / black nights”

history has proven thatyou can put despair on play/.repeat and it will go on forever.and if its loud and bright enough it doesnt matter how much money you have to buy the things you want or how brilliant you are told you are or how the right girls smile at you or how the best cameras flash at you.it is all you will hear or see.posted by xo @ 12:23 AM

June 15, 2006

me and you underneath the honeymoon. I'm not sure if you know but every night I've ever had that white hoody I slept with it. And when you had it back it was hard for me to sleep. And everytime I've ever left I kissed that thing you drew on the board in my room. Now I don't have either. Anything you've ever done I could forgive or forget. Except this. It was something I held sacred and I

xo

June 19, 2006

“im pretty much just a lawyer with the way im always trying to get you off”

i dont mean to have you worried or troubled. its the last thing i want. never take anything i ever say too seriously. youd need a search party to track my moods. who knows where they went? i guess this doesnt make sense. but in some strange way this is me saying thank you for always being there on the other side of this monitor.i am watching reality bites right now.the most exceptional thing about you is how ordinary you believe you are.i want to be kepy.i am a bull.she is a china shop.posted by xo @ 9:44 PM

6/19/06 Q&A

question

you guys looked uber classy rolling into the mmvas with those kickass shirts. what was up with your hand though?

answer

the fratellis put my hand in a blender cause i wouldnt tell them where the goonies were. but seriously. its just got a couple scratches, totally fine. no worries at all. just gotta keep it covered for infection.

question

pete… whats this i hear about policemen and cheerleaders and “the works” at the muchmusic awards? how very diddy style of you. oh and pete…is that you i hear on punchlines new cd? the line in caller ten when a voice goes “maybe fate can only go so far” or something like that? it sounds just like you. danke gleichfalls.

answer

we thought it was hilarious. the cop was a friend and the cheerleaders we met yesterday- so the only thing we had planned was the drum corps. but we thought it was something funny to do. our sense of humor sucks. we apologize.

question

i would like to congradulate your guys for winning an MMVA last night and your performance was ausome. they saved the best for last!! anyways i was wondering, do you guys like performing in Canada and hows the new album coming along?

answer

thank you. we are really happy because it was again a fan voted on award. it made us feel all warm inside. we love canada.

question

Enjoying the World Cup Pete?

answer

yeah but not as much as korean tom cruise. the koreans pretty much are slaying. france was bummed yesterday. i was not.

question

I was just wondering if you guys have ever seen Pump up the Volume with Christian Slater… I have turned it into my best friends new favorite movie.. She thinks that Happy Harry reminds her so much of Patrick … that made me smile for some reason… Have a good day

answer

we called patrick stump up the volume for a couple of weeks in a bad period of nicknames.

question

Pete, you say the phrase “At the end of the day…” a lot and now I say it too- Got any other good phrases I could borrow?

answer

my friends bonnie and leslie say “totes” all the time instead of totally and people think they are a riot.

question

Did you know “JT LeRoy” (AKA LAURA) listens to you guys? Weird.

answer

thats insane. he/she is one of my favorite contemporary writers.

question

does patrick really like baseball?because he sometimes i see him wearing orioles and mariners jerset/shirt things.by the way, im sending him a padres one if he likes it or not.okbyee.

answer

i dont think he even knows they are teams. he just likes bright colors. its cute.

question

I saw DROP DEAD FRED the other day on tv. What is your favorite part of the movie???

answer

probably the dogpoop part. or when his head gets stuck in the refrigerator. sometimes i feel like him. pretty irritating with a horrible sense of fashion.

June 22, 2006

sex and the city (the part theyll never tell you)

its strange here this time of year. because the weather never changes.

it is always summer here. so it doesnt feel like the same desperate love of these three pages on the calander. or at least not what i am used to.

sometimes the worst wishes are the ones that come true.

yellow and white lines to the coast.

you can learn to love anything if its around enough.

some people learn to love their mistakes.

shakes hands. "thank you, our time is up".

what keeps you coming back?

i got a long rap sheet.

(the statute of limitations is running out on you pretty fast).

the powders wet. the sparks arent coming.

the hammer isnt hitting. its spinning.

you can learn to love anything.

Posted by xoat 4:34 AM

June 22, 2006 

“i pack heat like an oven door.”

the circles under my eyes are a sign that says "do not trespass".there is moss growing on the roof of my mothers room.i am jealous of the time she spends thinking of it.it is bright. no matter what chemicals they spray it with-it thrives.and late at night the rain falls like bachelors for bad luck girls.i am jealous of the way it breathes the drops while i just heave.if i had any sense id send her a thank you note for the way my heart wouldnt ever give up on someone.my dad was a weekend warrior.but at least he was fighting.usually with my mother or mortgage broker on the other end of the phone,as i was hushed and pushed out of screen doors.if i had any sense id send him a thank you note for my sense of adventure.consult the map of a world that does not exist.simply part of the no future generation.only (st)all(ed) dogs go to heaven, only the worng dreams come true.sleepwalk of the stars. there is too much green to feel blue.i am jealous of the late bloomers as i am of the wallflowers.in this world of shit. fertilize me.dont worry, youre safe.i am just a tiger sleeping in the shade.just tiptoe by.blackmail myself.give us what we want or youll never see what you love again.i thought you said you were "non habit forming".i thought you said you were "safe to use at night"."use only as directed" and so on.i came back to you.only its more like a relapse.count a thumb then two fingers in.thats the one i want.posted by xo @ 3:52 PM

June 25, 2006

“i am your best imaginary friend. (white lies, gray love).”

at the end of it the only thing that we are promised in life is a hole in the ground. sometimes it gets you through the rough patches just to think that you could change someone. it makes you love them to think that they would change for you. but like i said before its more like the james bond series than anything else- different actors, same character. same shitty dialogue, same shitty songs for the same hearts. and anyone that says any different is a goddamned liar or worse, is just too much of an optim to pay anything mind. talking to you is like selling fire in hell. it can be done, but youre probably gonna have to tell a few white lies to make it happen. and anyone that changes only does it in front of your eyes and changes back when in the blackness of their own room. anyone can paint a gutter to make it look like gold. it only feels strange when the paint washes away. "love me with your head, not your heart". cigarettes on window sills. i love the way the smoke curls off of your lips. it makes me think we are in a period piece until the lexus hybrid drives by the front of your house. its efficient, just like you. went to the pride parade today just besides no one gives a compliment like a drunk gay man. when you are thinking about the first place where it all went wrong- please keep me in mind. you are ancient history- whichever side of this sentence you are on doesnt feel so great. you lob reassurance at me only im playing a different game. somtimes you just want to know that all is okay with the world and that you can sleep tight. only it never is when you need it to be. i keep talking and never say a thing. sleep easy. be well.i am still. i cant think of a single thing. it hits me like a wave. get me out of my mind."ransom notes keep falling at your mouthmid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outsspeak no feeling no i don't believe youyou don't care a bit you don't care a bit"i am a sentimental pessimist, dont blieve the fucking smile ever.love,the hot mess.posted by xo @ 10:30 PM

6/25/06 Q&A

question

So when do the FOB action figures and barbie dolls come out?

answer

come on. youve seen the bratz pics. theres no way we’d put out action figures. dolls with outfits maybe. hahaha

question

I watched “The Lost Boys” for the fist time the other day and i was just wondering what your favourite part was. Mine would have to be the “woah death by stereo” part. please respond.

answer

“maggots michael, youre eating maggots. how do they taste?”

June 27, 2006

“what are they going to arrest me for? being awesome?” i woke from this dream today: i was riding a motorcycle in the desert with this world jumping next to me the whole time. it could jump really far. then my dad was there and he said the wolf was bad news and couldn't stay. i lost it and picked up one of those desks with the table attatched (you know like from little house on the prairie) and asked him if he wanted to die. he said yes. then i threw the desk and he said no he didnt right before he died. i then woke up and brushed my teeth but the toothpaste tasted like it had gone bad. then i woke up for real.kind of crazy.i had to call my dad and make sure i wasnt throwing desks at him over wolves. you know.food for thought again, consider this crash dieting.patrick could sing the phonebook and you would still swoon.currently writing songs.sometimes i watch kids in spelling bees and get so jealous of the talent they have. i wonder what it would be like.did you see the corners of my mouth turn up for a second today? cause i caught you looking.more tomorrow. i miss being on tour. i miss playing shows every night. i hope you love the new songs so we can play more shows.cantsleepcantsleepcantsleep."we must never be apart"...watch: barflyread: death in installmentsposted by xo @ 1:12 AM

6/27/06 Q&A

question

Hey, Pete. Check your aol email for “I was bored” sent today, the 27th. I sent you another poem on the 22nd called “P.E.T.E.” It includes stuff from the Q and A and what I have read elsewhere. Love it…laugh at it…whatever…Be happy and do not fake it.

answer

simply because this has been posted over one million times- there is no aol email account anymore. if it is important please just post it in the q and a…

question

hey pete… what do you do when you feel everything falling apart? who do you turn to?

answer

smashing pumpkins “ava adore”

question

What was the biggest show u guys have ever played and do u ever get nervous before u do a show?? thnx ..luv ya always

answer

i think the biggest was madison square garden or bamboozle- cleveland/dc on the bcandu tour were big as well. i always get nervous, mostly that maybe noone will care about the songs anymore. you constantly suprise me though. thank you.

question

i was wondering when the next cd was coming out?

answer

we are currently getting it ready so either late this year or early next.

question

i just got a guitar, and its hard to learn, got ne tips?

answer

turn it up loud and headbang alot.

question

is it ok to love patrick and you BOTH?

answer

sure. you could even love joe and andy. i bet you could fit us all in your tiny dark little heart.

question

Jason, you awesome i loved that striped jacket you wore to the MMVAs lol its funny i was at that store the day before, question: what do u look for ina girl, cuz im just dying to be her

answer

thanks, jason is a big fan of babez- jason likes girls that will buy him burger king and drive him to band practice.

question

I guess Ill try to ask again…..or maybe Ill ask everyday until you answer =P Cause I HAVE to know…..who is singing at the beginning of one of FOBs old song “Honorable Mention” because it really doesnt sound anything like Patrick, but it sounds like he comes in later. Plzzz answer! Lots of love, your biggest fan AsHeLy (Seriously, I know the words to almost every song youve ever recorded)

answer

its patrick i swear. puberty arrived about a week later. it got stuck in the mail.

6/29/06

question

Pete Imagine this: Patrick (with his hat on of course) playing in a bathtub filled with bubbles and has a toy boat, army men, and a rubber ducky. Then he puts all the army men on the boat and pours a huge cup of water on the boat and laughs when all the army men fall in the water.

answer

i dont have to imagine. i get to see it in real life.

question

why cant I choose love AND sympathy?

answer

because usually they seem to be the same thing.

question

pete how many hairstyles have you had?

answer

when you date a hairstylist you end up getting alot of hair cuts. lets settle on some insane number. like 1 gazillion.

question

so do u ever get tired of people whining to u about their problems. cause i def think peeps should own up to their problems and deal with them

answer

i often wonder if people are sick of hearing about my problems. because thats all these words have ever amounted to. we are in it together, kind of, i suppose.

[letters-between-friends]

choking on grapes

Hi Ana,

Happy new year!

We should really write to each other more often as so many things keep happening that they add up so quickly. Now I can't even figure out how to properly update you.

I got sick over the holidays but was okay exactly on New Year's Eve, so I went to watch Novak Djokovic's match here in Perth. Can you believe it? I've been watching the guy play on tv for over a decade, and I remember my countless embarrassing tweets about him especially around 2013-2016 (not that I ever stopped). I thought the match would last a few hours, but there were actually 3 matches for Serbia vs China so I ended up spending until a bit over midnight in the RAC arena. We did the countdown there and everything.

The best part is I was alone. I was sick all week so I didn't make plans - but when I got cleared that afternoon, I didn't even hesitate. I got tickets and planned my day regardless of whether I would have company or not. It was a dream come true and I was so happy.

At midnight I called B (my engineer bestie) to show him the arena fireworks, N (my lover) to greet him a very happy new year and see what he's up to, and Alecks (one of my best friends in Canada).

The next day, N picked me up so we can spend the first day of the year together. I got us grapes so we can eat 12 each - to have good luck for each month. I knew this boy was special because when I said, "Well, I figured if it was indeed lucky then we get good luck all year, but if it doesn't work, then it can't really do any harm."

He so quick-wittedly said, "It can if you choke on a grape."

So instead of going with our plan of just having the grapes slowly and talking about the things we want to do this year, we challenged each other to scarf down the grapes and eat all 12 at once. He had zero problems with this. I on the other hand, almost choked on my 10th grape. I think it's a sign that I'll have a pretty good year.

I know we also caught up on the 1st of January over the phone so it's not like you missed a lot of my updates - but it's been 10 days since and I have recently also just turned 29.

I also spent it with N, who very thoughtfully organised a dinner with me at this beautiful beach restaurant. Then in the morning made me homemade crepes with blueberries and agave syrup. I spent half of the day embracing him and the other half just giving him kisses. He even said, "You've had at least a hundred kisses today. Minimum."

He was not wrong. And these were very innocent, affectionate and really adorable kisses. I just like being with him. It's always so peaceful and relaxing. We also played Lego Fortnite and watched Scrubs while I rested my head on his chest.

For months, my friends have been calling me out about not being open or likely being too cool or too scared to take it to the next level with N, but if I'm being honest, I like where things are with us currently. Like I have zero complaints. He is the loveliest boy, and if this ends up being the most we can do with each other, then I still have zero regrets. And I mean that - cross my heart & hope to die - I love N but if this is it, I know for certain that we both will be okay.

I actually think it's one of the more beautiful things about our relationship. Neither of us are necessary for each other. We both have plenty of choices, and our pool only continues to grow as we do. And yet - we choose to stay with each other in whatever capacity we can.

I've had a lovely start to the year and one of the online things I've been doing lately, is actually being quite active on Instagram. Every few days, I would post a story or photo collage of things I have been up to, and little elements from this life I have here and I keep getting replies and messages of people saying they love my aesthetic, and how my life looks like it was lifted from pinterest.

It's not. And it's messy and rough around the edges and I have so many problems I don't even want to think about, but you know what?

I think I like this little life.

So no big plans this year. I just want to do better... drink more water, love more, generally be kinder - to myself and to others. and hopefully, not choke on any grapes.

Tabitha

[sometimes-i-write-good]

5 + 1

Top Gun: Maverick - Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x f!pilot reader (callsign: Fallbeil)

4.4k || 5 times Bob remembers your little quirks and habits, and 1 time you remember his. 

===

Genre: Fluff, crushing, love confessions

CW: mentions of drinking, swearing

Author’s Note: Bob is such an acts of service kind of person - I can feel it deep in my soul. Also, I thought the idea of him ending up with someone who has a scary ass callsign like Guillotine (which is Fallbeil in German) despite him being a cinnamon roll would be the funniest thing in the world. || cross-posted on ao3

===

===

The first time you noticed something was because Hangman had that stupid ass look on his face again. That same one he always had, the only one he had in all honesty. The one that, recently, only ever seemed to be directed at you and that pissed you off most of all. 

“What?” He asked, but the smirk pulling his lips back into the stupid, smug fucking smile told you clearly: he knew exactly what.

“Leave her alone, Bagman. I’m not in the mood today,” Rooster said, and you could tell he meant it. HIs voice sounded surprisingly tired considering mornings were his prime time of existence. Maverick insisted on calling these meetings earlier and earlier, chinking away at everyone's stability, and it was proving to be too much for even the earliest of risers. 

Hangman scoffed, pressing his hand to his chest, and feigning offense. “Why am I always the bad guy? What if today was the day Fallbeil finally snapped and did something to me instead?” 

You rolled your eyes. “If I snapped, you wouldn’t be holding a conversation with me. Your head wouldn’t even be attached to your body.” 

“Living up to your name as always, doll.” 

Rooster slid into one of the empty chairs at the conference table, slapping down a notebook, and turned to look at you. “I’ll punch him if you want.” 

“I’m perfectly capable of throwing my own punches, thank you.” The look on Rooster’s face said he didn’t trust you not to take it too far. 

“And coffee mugs.” Hangman glanced over his shoulder; eyes trained on the spot where a cracked, open travel cup lay open. Opened and spilled, everywhere. “Which I managed to dodge.” 

“Try to dodge my-” but your insult was cut short by Rooster saying, “Coffee? You hate coffee.” 

You set your lips in a thin, embarrassed line. “He told me that it was tea.” 

“And you believed him?” Rooster snorted. 

You slunk back into your chair, crossing your arms with a pout. “It’s early! I’m basically the walking dead right now, birdbrain.” 

As with every mission of this sheer level of importance, your anxiety had been too great to let you sleep. Usually Bob or Phoenix or Rooster, the early risers of the group, would be up to go for a job or hit the gym with you. You were up well before all of them today and had taken it upon yourself to go for a run, shower, and be painfully early to this briefing. You had hoped Bob would be the first one there, he typically was, but the universe was out to get you because instead of those sweet, doe eyes behind some thick-lensed glasses all you got was a stupid pair of lips messing with a toothpick. 

“Don’t be too hard on, Rooster.” Phoenix called out, walking into the hangar with Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote in tow. “I already smoked him during our run this morning. He’s fragile.” 

Before Rooster could get all up in arms or Hangman could jump on a moment of vulnerability, Maverick walked in. He had his way to the head of the table while everyone else found their seats. “Good morning, everyone.” Tired, disjointed voices repeated the sentiment, pulling a smile onto Mav’s face. “I see we’re all ready for a busy day. What do you say we get started?” 

“Sorry, I’m late, sir!” Bob’s voice comes from behind you. “I couldn’t find the kettle.” 

Kettle, you thought to yourself, but Maverick just waved for him to sit down and continued talking. Before Bob headed over to the only open seat, by Hangman of all people, he placed a small cup of tea in front of you without a word. In your favorite mug, too. You brought it up to your lips to taste it… and it was perfect. Exactly the way you liked it. 

‘Thank you,’ you mouthed at him after he sat down. Bob just nodded and focused his attention on Maverick. You did the same, not even registering that he didn’t have a cup of anything for himself. 

–

The second time you noticed something nice Bob did for you was during poker night. Fanboy and Payback had decided tempting fate and coming out the other side had bonded you all for life. A point any of you could hardly disagree with. That mission was not something any of you were supposed to come back from. So, the idea of a movie night had been tossed around, but Payback always tried to guess the endings and Hangman tried to outdo the one-liners and Rooster just had to know if he knew that actor from another movie - needless to say, movie nights were shelved very fast. 

Then the idea of bar hopping came about, followed by karaoke night, followed by trivia night. Each of which ended up in all of you spending too much money on booze and drunkenly embarrassing yourselves with horrible vocals or blatantly wrong answers to obscure history questions. You all settled on the idea of a game night. It seemed to work well enough. A ‘family’ dinner followed by a board game. Except for the fact that Payback instead of placing bets no matter if it was CandyLand or Monopoly, which Coyote would double, and Hangman would triple. Leaving you all spending just as much money as you had at the bar. 

It was Bob who brought up the idea of having poker nights. Something with betting already designed into it so that none of you had to worry about emptying your bank accounts at the end of the night. That was the problem with setting elite competitors against one another, they never knew when to quit. 

You’d all been kept relatively close to TOPGUN, usually stationed a few hours away max. Months where distance wasn’t a problem, you all tried to meet once a week. If one of you weren’t stateside, then once a month worked just fine. Six months into poker nights so far and you’d been able to have at least one every month. Every time the list of things to bring shifted down a person, so that each time a new person would be in charge of chips or appetizers or the main entree, etc. It was a system that worked with military precision. 

Until the one time it didn’t. 

Bob was the last through the door of Payback’s small apartment. At least, it looked small with so many people crammed in there. “Here, I got special plates this time.” He raised them high above his head like a prize. Large, sturdy, and compartmentalized. Like the trays you’d get in the mess hall or for a school lunch. 

The statement caused immediate uproar.

“I was on plates and napkins!” Coyote said around a mouthful of sour cream and onion chips, brought by yours truly. And Hangman started making comments about how if no one was going to follow the list, then he wasn’t going to either. 

“You weren’t in charge of plates, Bob!” Fanboy tried his best not to get too worked up over it. He had created a spreadsheet of everyone’s responsibilities. Verifying everyone knew their roles was his main role in making sure this whole operation ran smoothly. “Please tell me you still brought dessert.” 

“I’ve got dessert. My grandma came out this weekend and made a peach cobbler.” 

The mention of his grandma’s baking ensured the pitchforks and torches were put away, for now. That woman had godly skills in the kitchen. You would gladly sit down and eat an entire cobbler of hers by yourself in one sitting.

Coyote, still hurt by his duty being impeded on, asked, “So then what are the plates for?” 

“Fallbeil doesn’t like when her food touches,” Bob said as though it were the most common knowledge in the world. “You guys always insist on getting plates that are way too small.” 

He set down the plates on the counter, followed by the pie, and went to take off his shoes and didn’t bring anything like that up again for the rest of the night. 

–

The third time you noticed something nice that Bob did for you was a day he had to leave early. A helicopter was coming to pick him and Phoenix up to take them overseas. Just for a few days, or so said those in charge, and you knew how easily a few days could change to a few weeks to a few months. 

The thought of possibly not seeing them for a while aggravated you. It meant being stuck on a ship hundreds of miles from the nearest shore without your two best friends. You’d known what you were signing up for when you first started. The military liked to keep their secrets. At any moment you could be swept away for a mission, but it still felt unfair when you woke up only to realize that your wingwoman and her WSO are replaced by strangers.

Back soon, take care. 

Not signed but the handwriting was so obviously Bob. Cursive with careful, purposeful loops. Hangman tried to tear him apart for taking so much care in his notes during the pre-briefs before the uranium mission. The insults died out fast once everyone realized he had chicken scratch for handwriting. Funny how spreading a rumor Hangman deserved the callsign Rooster over Bradley could put him in his place so quickly. 

Back soon, take care.

You stared at the sticky note, so carefully pressed against the outside of your locker. It was easy to imagine the conversation among him and Phoenix. 

“I’m leaving her a note.” 

“She’ll be fine, Bob. We’ve got to go.” 

“Four words.” 

He’d gotten into the habit of leaving sticky note updates in between lengthy letters. They held more emotion than an email or text, and you found that you liked it more than digital words on a screen. You could trace your fingers over each letter. Pretend as though he were pressed up in the seat next to you like when you’d go to the Hard Deck on a busy night and everyone would shove together in a few booths. A closeness you’d found yourself longing for in all moments spent together despite there being no reason for the two of you to share an armchair in the common room. 

You had crushes before. A few relationships littered your history of schooling, but you, like many others who had graduated from TOPGUN, assumed the sky was to be your first and only love. And then Bob showed up with his quiet, gentle ways and your heart would soar every time he walked into a room. There were days you went without talking, but you could count on some kind of a note to be waiting for you on your door or waiting for you on the control of your jet. 

Reminders that he was thinking of you. The way a best friend would. Surely. That’s all it had to be. No sense in constructing something out of nothing. Something that could wreck this perfect routine the two of you had created in one another’s lives. 

You peeled the sticky note off the front of your locker to place inside, out of harm's way. Your finger traced each letter. It was likely he and Phoenix were off somewhere with Coyote or Rooster or Hangman doing something far more dangerous than the intelligence patrol you’d been assigned to. As you swung open your locker, you wished you’d had enough sense to write him a letter before he’d left. Something reminding him and Phoenix to be safe, but you hadn’t known he was leaving. You hadn’t even let the thought cross your mind.

“Oh, Bob,” you sighed. 

A smile tugs its way onto your face. He’d left a mug in your locker. Not filled with tea this time, but with pens and highlighters and all your favorite stationary to use on your paperwork. You usually had a pencil case with you filled with pens that flowed smoothly and didn’t smudge or highlighters that didn’t bleed through the page.

He must have packed extra in his bag in case you’d forgotten that pencil case, which you had. But that wasn’t the best part. Somehow he’d managed to keep a rose alive and blooming to stick amongst the stationary. For, what it seemed to you, the sole purpose of making you smile. 

–

The fourth time you noticed something nice that Bob did for you was at Coyote’s birthday cookout. You were running late. Very late. More late than you’d ever been in your whole life to a point that you would have turned around if you could have, but you had been stuck on a highway without an exit for miles on end. The need to pee had never been stronger. 

Stuck in the literal sense. Construction fed into traffic fed into cars stopping for no reason at all fed into fender benders fed into your frustration. “Please just move!” You shouted at the trail of brake lights in front of you. All you had to do was make it to the next exit two miles away. 

But no one met your frustrated request. Instead, the standstill continued. You were destined to never arrive at this party. It had been weeks since you’d seen everyone together in one spot. Poker night had been postponed to tomorrow. Bound to be a dismal affair of hangovers and stale chips left out in bowls overnight. A slice of heaven on earth. Though, you would say that for just about anything if it meant being released from a fucking prison of a car. 

Your phone went off. The distinct sound of big band music filling your car. Bob’s ringtone. 

“Where are you?” His voice came through the other line at the same moment you shouted, “I want to rip my head off!” 

An amused chuckle filled your car which only caused you to fume further. “I’m serious, Robert. This two-hour drive has become four- maybe five. I lost count when I had to come to a full and complete stop for the three millionth time today. It would be so much easier if Coyote had a runway in his backyard. Then I could just fly there-”

“Fallbeil,” Bob cut in, “are you almost here?” 

“I’m a mile from my exit. I should be there in twenty. If I’m allowed to take my foot off the brake for more than a few seconds.” You let out a loud groan. “I’m going to stop at a gas station because I think my bladder might explode. So expect me in thirty actually-” 

Bob laughed and spoke once more, saving you from yet another breathless tangent. “I’m excited to see you.” 

You smiled to yourself. Grinning at the stopped cars in front of you like an idiot. “Yeah?” 

“Have I ever not been?” 

“I’m excited to see you too.” You could envision Bob’s own shy grin. No, you couldn’t hear the sounds of the party going on around him. He had closed himself off alone in a room to talk to you, which would mean the smile would be big and beaming. “Coyote enjoying himself?” 

“I think he might have cried when Natasha put on the birthday playlist she made for him.” 

“She’s good at that.” 

“Good?” Bob laughed. “She’s elite at it.” Then, after a moment of comfortable silence fell over the two of you he said, “Want me to stay on the phone until you show up?”  

If it were a normal poker night, you would have jumped on the offer. Phone calls with Bob had become a staple in that routine in one another’s lives. Letters and notes were not nearly enough to tide the two of you over. But today was a special occasion. 

“No,” you told him. “I’ll be there soon.” He deserved to go enjoy the party. Not be tied up in a phone call where you were bound to blow your lid if the car in front of you did not speed up. 

“Be careful. Drive safe.” The line clicked. 

Be careful, you turned the words over in your head wondering what they would sound like punctuated with a kiss every morning when you headed out the door. 

You turned down Coyote’s street, knowing exactly what you’d find. Cars taking every spot. Coyote was the most popular out of the crew. Charming personality, willingness to help everyone so much as passing by, and good looks. The combination needed for a party of the century. 

And the shouts of excitement that flowed from his backyard told you just that was happening. Without you, and it would continue to go on without you if you couldn’t find an open spot to park. Bob waited at the end of Coyote’s packed driveway, hands stuffed into his jeans. A surprising amount of muscle strained beneath the button up shirt he wore to every part. More cars shoved onto the asphalt and spilled over onto the lawn.

Bob waved, waited patiently for you to park the car in the middle of the street, and then came around to the driver's side of the car. “Hey,” he said as he popped open your door. “How was the drive?” 

You shot him a look. One that immediately set that bright, beautiful smile on his face. “Funny.” 

“Here, get out.” 

“What?”

“Get out. Go inside and say hi.” He leaned over to unbuckle you and the scent of his cologne tickled your nose. “I have a plate of food for you in the oven, on low so it stays warm. There’s one in the fridge too with the cold stuff.” 

“Bob-” 

“They’re all separated.” He waved you out of the car, grabbing your hand to help, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Fallbeil.” 

You saw him again ten minutes later because he had to park two blocks away and walk back. 

–

The fifth time you really noticed Bob going out of his way for you was a few months into the two of you moving in together. Solely as roommates, two best friends making the most of a perfect situation. Rent was going up, you had an extra room, and Bob had just gotten hired as an instructor at TOPGUN. The timing couldn’t have been better. 

In truth, nothing could be better. The two of you fit perfectly into each other’s lives. Bob with his early habits. Having tea on the table for you alongside the crossword section of the newspaper he insisted on reading every morning. The hardest word always filled in as a starting point. He’d saved you the frustration of straining your mind over a word you couldn’t have dreamed up in the wildest corners of your imagination. 

The preference over sticky notes as communication over texts still remained the same. Left on the mirror in your shared bathroom always signed with “be careful” or “take care.” Sometimes there is nothing of importance to say, but Bob would write those two words anyway as a reminder. 

You’d leave voicemails if it was something that needed your immediate attention - talking on the phone to Bob became a bright spot in your week. You tried your hardest to leave them only for emergencies but hearing his voice every day had spoiled you. Sometimes your mind would lock on something you would absolutely have to tell him. Then you would find yourself pulling out your phone, typing in his number, and putting it away with a great sigh. You had planes to fly, he had students to teach, and the torture of being apart for a few hours each day made returning home to him all the sweeter. Returning home to movie nights or long walks on the beach or stories of students who remind Bob of each member of the Dagger Crew. 

Phoenix would crash often when she got called back to TOPGUN, and Bradley hung around often enough seeing that Mav and Penny had made their lives here. Everyone cycled through at some point. Even Hangman had a welcome place on your couch if he ever needed it. 

There was one night Jake had spent the night. Out of the blue and completely inconvenient as was the case with Hangman, but he offered to cook dinner while the two of you were at work and you came home to a good meal and surprisingly good company. What a sight to see the three of you laughing at a small table. 

You hadn’t minded Hangman staying over. Though he did scare the shit out of you when he knocked on your door and let himself into your room to talk. “You know he likes you,” he had said, perched on the corner of your bed with that same stupid ass look on his face that meant trouble. “I think he might even be in love with you.” 

“Bagman-” 

“Hey, I come in here to tell you some life-altering news and you start with insulting me.” Hangman had let out a low whistle. “Think about it, Fallbeil.” 

“What if it ruins everything? We’re doing so well.” 

“What if it changes everything for the better?” 

You hadn’t expected those words to play in your head as often as they did when Hangman finally left. It had been weeks since you’d last seen him. Poker night was tonight. He was hosting, and you had a feeling he was going to corner you with all sorts of questions as to if you’d made a move on Bob yet. A foolish notion. Bob might not be a skittish dog, but making a move on him still might cause spontaneous combustion. You were just trying to figure out which one of you it would be. 

What could be the right time to tell your best friend and roommate that you loved him? That you have always wanted to be more? 

You thought it over as you wiped sleep from your eyes and made your way into the bathroom. Bob had left earlier than usual this morning. It was a test day for the students and he was nothing if not prepared. Likely that kind, painfully chirpy teacher in the early hours of the day. 

There was a sticky note on the mirror. As expected. Longer than usual. Unexpected. 

Took your car this morning. Saw you needed an oil change. Be home late, then he can head to Bagman’s. Hope that’s okay. My keys are on the counter. Be safe. Love you.

You traced those last two words with the tip of your finger. It was the first time he’d added those two words. 

And they fit so naturally on the note. Like they always belonged there.

–

The one time (the first time) you realized you were going out of your way to do things because you loved Robert Floyd when you went into the mall with a head full of ideas to get for Rooster’s birthday and came out twenty minutes later with one thing. One thing not for Rooster. 

A model plane for Bob. Before he’d gotten so overwhelmed with his responsibilities at TOPGUN to cease having many hobbies, he’d built model planes. It’s what had gotten him into a love of planes. At least, that’s what he had told you one night at the Hard Deck, when the two of you were shoved up against one another. 

Growing up in a small midwestern farm town didn’t give him many chances growing up to be around planes, but he’d watch the ones that flew over crops with rapt interest. He memorized flight patterns, sat alongside fields, and watched them every chance he got. Then, in the late nights where he only had his imagination to keep him company, Bob built model planes and memorized their histories.

“I’ve always wanted to be around planes.” He had slurred the words a bit back then. One too many sips of beer between handfuls of peanuts. “I kept them around me as much as I could.” 

You hadn’t been able to figure out how crop planes became fighter jets in his history, but more stories came out as the two of you moved in together. Dismissive comments about school bullies. Talks about how he knew he wasn’t the strongest, but had always felt the need to prove himself. It seemed to fit into this idea people created of him - always a bit behind the rest. You respected him for sticking to what people told him he couldn’t do and making a name for himself in spite of it all. 

And you loved that he trusted you enough to bring you in on those hobbies of his. Building fighter jets in the low light of desk lamps and night lights. Reminding you of the purpose of each piece. Telling the history of each plane. But your favorite part of all was when the two of you would build a jet you were flying and he would include all your statistics, everything you’ve accomplished, and, when you caught him in rare form, things Bob imagined you would do that would etch your name into the very fabric of history. 

“Did you get a present for Bradley?” He asked, hearing the click of the door behind you. There was a rag thrown over his shoulder. Bob turned to face you with a smile. In the midst of cooking, glasses slightly fogged from whatever it was he was cooking, and your heart couldn’t take it. 

“N-no,” you said, tripping up on your words. “I, um, I forgot.” 

“But on the phone you said you couldn’t wait to show me what you got?” He tilted his head, watching as you kicked off your shoes, and placed your shopping bag on the table. “I hope you’re not trying to sign your name onto my gift, Fallbeil. I spent three months finding a vintage record of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ for him.” 

You smiled at his thoughtfulness. “No, Robert, I will not steal credit for your gift. He’ll know it’s from you anyway.” You took a deep, shaky breath. “I got something for you instead.” 

Bob’s brows scrunched in confusion. “Me, but it’s Bradley’s birthday?” 

You pulled the model F-18 from the bag and held it out towards him. Your hands shook slightly. Silly considering the two of you were always going out of your way to do things for each other. Plates and oil changes and parking cars. Small things. Nothing as momentous as a declaration of pure understanding of one another. 

He said your name with a softness you’d never heard before. As though he were praying. 

“I love you.” You said it at the same time as him. And the words fell so naturally from both your lips. Like they always belonged there.

===

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