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therealcocoshady · 3 months ago

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I also had an idea kind of similar to the arranged marriage plot maybe someone sets them up on a blind date… he keeps saying no but the person playing Cupid is very persistent and he ends up feeling obligated to go (idk, just a thought)

Oh, I actually had an thought about something similar to this, a while ago - please don’t mind me, I literally wrote this thing in less than 30 minutes and didn’t proofread. I just wrote it so that you’d get the idea.

After years of frustration with women and trust issues, Marshall has made peace with the fact that he’s going to end up alone. Even his friends have stopped trying to set him up on dates. Sure, they’d like to see him thrive in a relationship, and they can see how lonely he is, sometimes, but they also know he’s complicated. So they leave him alone on the topic. So he dedicates to his work and his role as a father.

And ironically enough, his girls are the only people that could get him to go out of his comfort zone. One of them is still in college, studying psychology. She has to do an assignment for one of her classes and she is searching for volunteers for an experiment on dating and relationships. The design is pretty simple : people sign up, fill some forms and answer questions. Then, an algorithm pairs them up for maximum compatibility and they have to go on a date, during which they will have to answer the famous 36 questions designed to make them fall in love. His daughter is a bit behind on work and she has to find one more volunteer. She doesn’t even believe in this whole thing, she just wants to pass the class. So she begs Marshall, who refuses at first. Because A) he doesn’t date and B) even if he did, he wouldn’t take part in an experiment, much less one involving his daughter in his romantic life. But she’s really desperate and she assures him that the whole thing is anonymous and clinical. « Please, Dad, it’ll take twenty minutes of your time. And who knows if they’ll even pair you with anyone for the date. I just need to pass the class and graduate. You’re the one who always insisted on me getting higher education ! ». Of course, he caves in. Because he did sacrifice a lot for his babies to go to college, and he’ll be damned if his daughter fails the class because of him. Plus, the people in charge of the experiment will probably see his answers and figure he’s a lost cause. Even science wouldn’t find a good match for him, right ?

Except that it does. Weeks later, he receives an email, informing him that he’s been selected for the second step of the experiment and that they’ve found him a match with 95% compatibility. At first, he figures he won’t go. With his luck, they paired him with another fifty-something man who’s just as lonely. No way this could be a woman. Not with the stoic and sarcastic answers he typed in the form. The email doesn’t even specify who they paired him with. They just ask if he’d be available for a date in two weeks time. Basically, it’s having coffee with the other person, answering the 36 questions unrecorded and then filling another form to describe the experience and say if yes or no they feel attracted to the other person and would consider actually dating them. He figures that, even though it’s anonymous, his daughter’s team wouldn’t have the data if he bails and he’ll be damned if his precious daughter doesn’t get her degree because of him. Of course he’ll bite the bullet and go on that stupid coffee date. Even if he’s paired with a 53 year-old name George.

But as it turns out, his date is not 53 year-old George. It’s you. You and your charming smile. You who agreed to take part in the whole thing because your little sister, his daughter’s teammate, begged you at the last minute. God, these college students need to learn how to do things in time and not to involve their family in their cringy psych classes experiment. You don’t even want to do this whole thing but when a charming man shows up, you can’t help but smile and introduce yourself, extending a polite handshake to greet him. He doesn’t seem too at ease in that little café, which you find odd because it’s actually quite lovely. Also, you swear you’ve seen him somewhere, but it’s Detroit and he’s a brown-haired, bearded, middle-aged man in jeans and a hoodie. Pretty generic. You’re not exactly surprised to have been paired up with someone older than you. You’ve always been told you’re an old soul, so of course « science » (or whatever software they used to compile data) would figure out that your perfect match is almost twenty years older. Anyway, you’re not really here for a date. You’re here for your sister to finally graduate. And you’re not one to refuse free Chai latte.

So the two of you exchange a few pleasantries, introduce yourselves and get to these 36 questions. You tell each other who you could have dinner with if you could choose anyone in the world, whether or not you have a secret hunch about how you will die… as it turns out, the thing is cleverly designed. The questions are increasingly personal and both of you end up sharing personal details, things you most definitely wouldn’t think of sharing with a stranger you were more or less randomly paired up with. By the time you reach the last question, you are looking into each other’s eyes, giving your undivided attention, leaning in. When you arrived, you were strangers but by the end of the date, you feel like you really know each other. More than some people you’ve known your whole life. And by the time it ends, you’ve had the time to notice how charming the wrinkles around eyes are, and you don’t find it too unsettling that he blinks a bit faster than most people you know. As for him, he hasn’t failed to notice that little birthmark near your eye, and the way your mouth twitches when you’re trying to think of the adequate word to answer one of the questions. You don’t know each other’s favorite color or the name of your first pet, but both know when the other last cried in front of someone else and by themselves and why. 36 questions and a cup of coffee later, and you’re not really strangers. You actually had a pleasant time. Too bad you reached the end of the questionnaire and it’s time to go. Too bad he doesn’t offer to take your number and call you. Too bad you’re too demure to ask for his. You wouldn’t have minded actually going out with him. Maybe even discuss that movie he mentioned in passing and thinks you’d like.

The two of you share a hug goodbye and agree that it was fun. You wish him well for his daughter’s wedding he told you he’s busy planning and he wishes you luck for that job interview you said you were nervous about. When you go home and it’s time to answer that final set of questions, saying how you feel about the experiment, you actually give the whole thing a solid 8/10. And when you’re asked if you’d actually date the person you met for coffee, you tick « yes » faster than you’ve ticked any box. You do the same when it asks you if you’d consent to the other person being given your contact info.

Weeks later, Marshall is ecstatic when his daughter tells him she got a good grade for that psych class and that she’ll be graduating with honors. He’s proud as can be. She thanks him profusely for helping her. « I know it’s a stupid thing. But hey, there are a few people who reported they had a good time. Who knows ? Maybe I helped someone find love. ». She has absolutely no idea that he is one of the people who asked for the other person’s contact info as soon as they were given the possibility. She doesn’t know he’s been on four more dates with you. People have been so used to him being single that it didn’t even cross his daughter’s mind. Not even when he mentioned he missed the last Lions’ game, which never happens. But she definitely gets a hunch when he attends her graduation ceremony and sees him smile to that beautiful lady who’s attending her graduation ceremony and came to greet him. « Oh, that’s my sister speaking with your dad ! », her friend says. « I convinced her to do the experiment and she told me she met someone charming. Can you believe it ?! ».

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Eminem blurb

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robthegoodfellow · 2 months ago

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Make Me Feel Mighty Real 1/?

follow up to praise kink soft dom Steve uber sub Billy fic (also on Ao3) from last year's Kinktober event. the boys play around with total power exchange. tagging @gigacat and @makeadealwithdean because i remember you liking the original 💛

no porn yet. pre-porn.

Billy didn’t want him to ask how his last exams went. Didn’t want him to mention his classes at all—a complete erasure of the last few weeks of compulsive flash cards and study guides and late nights at the library. He’d been mumbling psych terminology in his sleep, tossing and turning, and gnawed on so many pencils his desk seemed occupied by a tiny beaver.

Over the past however long since Billy had become his… well, his—his good boy, his baby, his first thought on waking, his to have and to hold in a sense felt more deeply than tying the knot, in a sense that transcended all he’d ever known of how two people could be together and frankly still knocked him breathless when he thought about it too much—anyway, since all that began, Steve had come to view his life as though through this peculiar prism.

Certain facets were as they’d been before, like now: soldiering through the numbers at work, making nice with surrounding cubicles, acting the part of the straight-laced office drone, diligent and dull as dirt. He’d been voted Best Hair at the office Christmas party not just because his hair was objectively magnificent but also because that was all anyone knew about him. By design.

He did his work, got paid, and the moment he left the building, Office Steve shut off. Some people centered their lives around a vocation, and some joined the rat race, scrambling to pull even, pull ahead. Then there were people like his dad, where career success determined your entire worth—your net worth all that mattered.

Steve was none of those things. Swore to himself he never would be.

So Office Steve had already been separate from the rest, from the facets of himself he valued most: the person he was with friends, with family, with girlfriends. The person he was just hanging out at home.

And he’d been content with those facets for so long… until Billy. Until something about Billy turned the prism and a flash of light unveiled a side of himself he’d never known was there, alongside the others, patiently waiting for that beam of recognition at exactly the right angle.

Billy dropping to his knees, face angled up, lashes low, eyes locked where Steve’s cock strained the denim.

Standing there, towering like he’d never towered before—looming, imposing, imperative—Steve had never felt so firmly seated inside himself. In command.

It was hard to explain. He’d been puzzling it through for months, but all he knew was that, these days, with every step he took up the stairwell to their apartment, something in him shifted, bestowed this clarity of need and means, so by the time he reached their door, crossed the threshold, he practically thrummed with it.

That day, knowing what he might find upon entering, the thrum heightened to a subdermal buzz, so intense he had to pause on the Welcome mat, breathe deep and slow. In control.

Billy was inside, would have finished his last exam an hour ago. And last night, as they drifted to sleep, he’d mumbled what he wanted, what Steve had been probing him for—what he wanted to do, how he wanted to celebrate, once exams were over.

Could we do… you in charge?

Like that evening in late summer, he meant, when they’d toyed with total obedience, Steve at the reins of every decision, free to follow any whim—unless Billy signaled yellow, they’d decided. Yellow to slow down. Red to stop.

Me in charge tomorrow night? Steve asked, his blood already rushing at the thought, the memory.

Maybe. Billy had turned, nuzzled into Steve’s side, more snuggly under his arm. And maybe… try for longer? At Steve’s enquiring hum, a teasing lilt, he’d huffed, finally said it straight out: You in charge all day.

Steve hummed again, low rumble in the chest, and trailed fingers up Billy’s spine to hook in his necklace, twine the chain until it hugged his bobbing throat.

Saturday? Steve asked.

Depended on where his head was at, Billy said. If he was up for it, they could start early. Start Friday. And see how it went.

Baby’ll be honest?

Billy nodded—more accurately, rubbed his cheek at Steve’s ribs.

Baby’ll be where he wants? When I get home?

On his knees, if he wanted to start.

Billy nodded.

On the welcome mat, Steve exhaled once more. Unlocked the door.

Billy didn’t move from where he knelt on the floor, facing the couch, his shoulders at ease, hands on his thighs. He was in the same clothes from that morning—jeans and sweater. One of Steve’s.

The TV was on, volume low, a blurred murmur beyond the pulse pounding in his ears.

Steve closed the door behind him. Locked it.

“Look at me,” he said, and Billy did, turning his head, gaze skirting the floor to find Steve’s shoes. Watched as Steve toed off the shoes, as he approached, silent socks on the soft blue carpet.

Steve sank fingers into messy curls, angled the head to see Billy’s face. Thumb brushed beneath his eye, and though the lashes rose, the baby blues were soft and spacey.

“Color.”

Not a question. Billy blinked, slow to process. Steve stroked his hair.

“Green.” He said it quiet, on a breath.

Even unfocused, his boy had this ravenous quality, like his eyes, his ears, his every sense were sponges primed to soak it up, suck in Steve’s smile, the pleased curve, and Steve’s words, just as pleased, and soft.

“Good boy.”

#this just happened #been toying with idea awhile tho #harringrove #soft dom steve harringrove #subby to his soul billy hargrove #now settled into their dynamic some months down the road

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 7 months ago

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Hi. I’m sending this anonymously but if tumblr glitches and it isn’t anonymous please don’t post this because I’m absolutely completely entirely mortified.

I’m 20 FtM. About a year and a half ago, when I moved out and started at college, I discovered fandom, and began to get really into reading fics on AO3. My parents had heavily restricted my internet access growing up, and as new adult I began to discovered the barrage of content online.

Soon enough, I was spending about an hour or two every night reading smut fics. I never thought anything of it, because, well, it’s just words, it’s not *actually* porn, right?

Recently I did start watching some explicit videos but tried to limit myself to only once or twice a month because the shame I felt as well as the strange dissatisfaction just wasn’t worth it.

After doing some research, I found a study that said that watching porn for more than an hour a week was unhealthy. I thought, yeah, okay, fair enough.

Then I realised: does my fanfiction reading count as pornography?

I kept thinking to myself that because it was text it didn’t count, but —does it? Is that the reason that lately I’ve been feeling strangely dissatisfied and empty after reading/watching? Will I feel like this when I eventually have sex?? (still a virgin, mainly for dysphoria reasons)

I found all this stuff online that says porn addictions can screw you over for life, that you can’t find sexual satisfaction with a partner.

Should I cut back?

I don’t normally masturbate while consuming porn. I feel too ashamed. I normally just sit there and read/watch.

Am I a porn addict?????? Should I quit reading smut? Help.

If you can’t tell, I wasn’t raised in a very sex positive environment and I feel very ashamed. I don’t really know who to talk to and I just feel very guilty so I’m resorting to an anonymous ask on Tumblr.

If you read this, thank you for taking the time. I appreciate it.

— Jason

hi Jason,

I don't think you're a porn addict. I think you're probably just an anxious 20 year old from a pretty restrictive background and now that you have a little more freedom you're kind of nervous about it, which is very normal.

I want to be super clear: written porn is porn. porn is any sexually explicit material designed to titillate; it's existed since WAY before the moving picture existed and it will exist long after the internet has crumbled to dust. people like porn! and it's okay to like porn. the text-based stuff is particularly high on the list of porn that's pretty unambiguously fine, morally-speaking, because you never have to worry that the performer you're watching has had their video stolen by pornhub or that, god forbid, anyone onscreen isn't a willing participant, but I want to be super clear that liking sexually explicit photos or videos of real people is also 100% fine.

obviously I have no idea what study you read, but I'd be cautious about any study being boiled down to such black and white, attention-grabbing headlines. you can interpret a study to mean virtually anything if you want to, and there are a lot of interest groups with a vested interest in demonizing porn. if reading smutty fan fic makes you happy and isn't interfering with the rest of your life, you should do that.

unfortunately it sounds like it's not making you happy lately, dissatisfied and empty feelings. in the kindest way possible, I don't think much of that is being caused by the porn itself. it sounds like it's coming from your gnawing worry that you're a porn addict. maybe it's best to take a little step away from porn and smutty fic for a while, if only until you feel able to engage with it without feeling bad.

also, speaking of porn addiction: that's a very dubious condition, and one that's not scientifically or medically recognized. to be certain, people can develop a reliance on porn that disrupts their daily function and can wreak havoc on their lives, but that's true of anything that causes your brain to spit out happy chemicals. anything that become a maladaptive coping mechanism, including and especially things that are fine and even necessary in small doses. sleeping, exercising, and going shopping are all things that can be life-ruining if done to harmful excess, but that doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong if you like to sleep in, go for runs, or browse your favorite online stores every once in a while.

if reading smut isn't causing you to skip out on your more important obligations, fail to take care of yourself, or bringing on bankruptcy, I think you're probably alright. the biggest danger I see here is you beating yourself over the head with your own anxiety about this, which may be a sign that it's a good idea to take a step back for entirely different reasons than you were worried about.

#sex edventures 2024

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cinnamoneve · 1 year ago

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𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞.

nepenthe \ nɪˈpɛnθi \ (n.) - anything inducing a pleasurable sensation of forgetfulness, especially of sorrow or trouble.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: collegeau!gojo satoru x fem!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: parties at shoko's always gave you something to look forward to ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 3.1k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: soft launching a college au ♡ let me know if you like it hehe ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: suggestive. reader consumes (a lot) of alcohol ( do not do what reader does xox)

“it’ll be soooo fun, honey, i think we should go”

satoru’s voice was saccharine and encouraging, not even hinting at his secret motive to get you out of the house and to shoko’s party.

it’s been a long week, you thought. there would be nothing worse, perhaps, than crowding into shoko’s apartment and losing to her and suguru in a round of beer pong.

you lazily looked up from your studies to satoru, who was sitting on your bed cuddling a stuffed animal he gave you some time ago. he met your gaze with a stupid smile of his. it wasn’t his words that convinced you, it was probably his dimples.

“fine. only for a little bit, satoru, i have some stuff to finish up for class”

“just say the word, baby”

you and satoru got ready for the party, with the same routine you always do. he suggests the same playlist he always plays, which is full of what he dubs ‘bad bitch music.’ something about being in a bad bitch mentality before you go out raises your confidence? you stopped listening at some point, between nicki minaj songs that he hums along to while you put your makeup on.

“don’t you look cute,” he teases.

“you’re drooling there, satoru”

“mmm, is it really that obvious?”

“do you think this outfit is too much, though?”

“i can fight”

“i don’t mean it like that, stupid,” you give him a playful smack on the side.

he hushes your giggles with a quick kiss, and you feel his smile against yours. you can’t help but snake your arms around his waist to pull him even closer.

“you look beautiful, love,” he hums, “c’mon, we’re gonna be late”

with a quick tap on your butt and a pinch in his side, the two of you leave your dorm and head to shoko’s.

seems like anyone you’ve ever interacted with was poured into her tiny apartment, and the music blaring from every direction made it impossible for greetings. you and satoru resorted to a quick wave to the guests you made eye contact with before wandering through the crowd to find shoko.

satoru holds the small of your back to guide you through everyone, his tall stature being a beacon to find your host.

suguru finds you before that, though, giving your boyfriend a shove before greeting you with a warm embrace. he hands you a drink of unknown origin or contents with a smile before walking off. “let me know when you two want to get your asses handed to you at pong,” he yelled over the music.

“oh, fuck off, suguru,” your boyfriend laughed behind you, “go get next, so we can show you how it’s done”

satoru hurried you along as you sipped the drink suguru gave you, realizing it was a little too strong for your liking. but you thought a little harder about it, and concluded that getting drunk would do wonders for the stress building up in your system.

bottoms up, you thought, and you pounded it away before even reaching shoko.

and you’re glad you did, because she was incredibly wasted when you found her. she greets you and satoru with a big hug, blabbering about how excited she was to see you both and how much she loves you.

she hands you another drink of unknown origin and content, and you think nothing of it and drink it too. surrounded by those you love and trust the most, there was really no harm in doing it.

“let’s dance a little, hm?”

satoru pulls your hand this time towards the lump of people moving in tune to the music. there wasn’t a designated dance floor of any kind, but it’s almost instinctual for people to dance if given the opportunity.

you take more sips of your drink to loosen you up a bit.

“i thought you hated dancing, satoru”

your boyfriend navigates through a myriad of moving, sweaty bodies before he twirls you around on his hand to face him properly.

“i do, but i know how much you love it,” he teased back.

you didn’t–at least not like this. only if you were drunk. it hits you when your feet start to move that you’re a little in over your head.

your body happened to move before your mind could catch up. god, when did you become such a lightweight? two drinks in and you’re dancing already?

satoru pulled you close, and then pushed you far, swaying and dancing in time to whatever rhythm the speakers were spitting out. you could barely keep up with him, but shit, you were having the time of your life.

he pulled you to his hips, lining you up away from him, grabbing your waist in his big hands as the two of you bumped and grinded. seems like the whole world managed to stop, or clear out even, as satoru pulled you closer to him. one of his hands got a little searchy, moving up and down your body as he buried his face into your neck.

god, this felt good.

the alcohol only made it stronger. it felt like every inch of your skin was lined with nerves that satoru knew how to push just right, just the way you liked. it was electric, but in the best way possible. you felt his smile against your skin as he peppered kisses along your neck, still guiding your hips against his own with one of his hands to sway to the beat along with you.

you could stay like this forever, and you wished you could.

you turned your head around to meet his lips halfway, which he gladly accommodated. careful not to move your body away from where it was, you quickly and sloppily reached up for satoru’s lips, eager to be closer to him in any way you could. “mmm, what’s gotten into you tonight, love?” satoru pulled away between breaths, not missing a beat to sway with. he dared not move his hand off your hip, but let the other rest comfortably on your jaw to support you more.

“i could say the same to you, loverboy”

satoru smiles the same shit-eating grin he frequently does, usually when he’s got you right where he wants you. in the moment, and with your clouded mind, you’re deluded to think that it’s the other way around.

“i think you’ve had too much to drink,” he mumbles.

“i think you don’t know what you’re talking about,”

you shut him up with another kiss, and satoru giggles into your mouth but doesn’t seem to stop you. he continues to grind into you and needily shove his tongue further and further into your mouth. your head fills with all kind of thoughts, murkily racing through all your options for what this man was making you feel.

“hey, lovebirds,” suguru’s voice booms above the music, snapping you and satoru out of your trance.

“hm?” satoru lazily asks back.

“are you two playing or what? table’s free,”

you peek behind satoru to see shoko and suguru standing by the beer pong table, both of them obviously incredibly drunk. suguru can hide it way better than shoko, but at this point you have a way of knowing.

“coming,” you shout back at him, laughing.

satoru pulls you in for one more kiss, hungry for any last tastes of you he can soak up before you re-enter reality.

“let’s go kick their ass,” he says.

you barely hear him. it takes a moment to register, anyways, but by the time it does, satoru’s given you a smack on your butt and he’s leading you by the small of your back to the table.

shoko hands you another drink.

the drunker you are, the better you shoot, and you and satoru have the beer pong game of your lives, effectively dethroning shoko and suguru on the first go.

their attempts to throw you off fall flat, and satoru showers you in praise and affection with every ball sunk in the red solo cups.

the alcohol in your system, the adrenaline of winning, and praise from the man you loved the most–it all was too much. you reached a strange, comforting, yet familiar nirvana that made you feel on top of the world.

this euphoria, it was new, but it was peace. pure and utter peace.

something must’ve been contagious and in the air, because satoru couldn’t keep his hands off of you all night. pretty much since you left the house, he’s been glued to you in some way. holding your hand, attaching himself to your ass, holding the small of your back–he acted as if not touching you at all times would kill him instantly.

you all shook hands with one another, congratulating each other on a game well played. satoru and suguru cannot be civil about anything, so you and shoko laugh about something while the boys criticize the other to no end.

“whatever,” satoru shrugs, “i’m not taking this from second place,”

he turns to you quickly.

“do you want to get some fresh air?”

the room looked fuzzy, and it all started to feel like slow motion by the time you understood what he was saying.

he took your lack of response as a yes, knowing you better than you know yourself at times.

“running away from defending your title, satoru?” suguru’s laugh echoed in the small room to the two of you, as satoru shuffled you towards the back door.

satoru doesn’t turn around to yell back to his friend, “being a sore loser doesn’t look good on you~”

your feet moved before you could tell them to, being pushed by satoru to the chilly balcony attached to shoko’s apartment.

you immediately sat on the floor of the balcony, while satoru leaned on the rails. it was cold enough that his breath was visible.

“you cold, babe?”

satoru must’ve felt your eyes burning a hole into him, as he looked down to see you with your arms crossed on the ground.

you closed your eyes so the world would stop spinning.

“i’m okay,” you mumbled back. it was hard to form full sentences at this point, as you felt like you were talking before you were sure of what was gonna come out of your mouth.

you felt satoru sit next to you on the ground, placing his arm around you to bring you close to him.

he doesn’t drink himself–hates it, actually, but satoru could never turn down a party. he was all for other people getting drunk, though, especially his sweet girlfriend who was notoriously bad at holding her alcohol.

you open your eyes to look at him, your vision still a little fuzzy. satoru seemed to have a glow about him when you drank. it took everything in you not to confess everything running through your mind at the moment. you weren’t sure if you wanted to fuck him, marry him, or fall asleep on this balcony in his arms. it was fair game for any of the three. you opted to stare at him instead.

he smiled, and his dimples made their appearance once again.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“i love you”

he chuckled and stroked your shoulder to soothe you.

“i know, baby. i love you too”

you’ve been dating for a while. you’ve said those words more than you could count. something about how he said it now was so genuine, so honest, and so satoru. you were fit to burst.

it all made you shy. the best you could do was stare off the balcony and into the darkness of the night. you’d lost track of time, of your worries, of all the stress slowly accumulating in your system.

satoru didn’t mind.

he wasn’t one to break the silence, anyways. he continued to rub your shoulder, humming some tune that he was fixated on at the time.

you loved him. you loved him, you loved him. what comfort there was in loving someone who would do anything for you. who loved you back. who held you gently in his arms as you faded in and out of reality.

he would do it a million times over. anything you asked, one million times over. he was obsessed with you. obsessed with knowing you, with loving you, with sitting in silence with you for the rest of your days. he was ready to sit in silence through all stages of your lives together, holding you in his arms as he drew gentle circles on your arm.

he’d be content with that. more than content, actually–maybe the luckiest man in the world.

“let’s blow this joint”

“mm?” you could barely keep your head up.

“ah, you’ve had a lot to drink, love, let’s get you home”

“okay~” you giggle back at him.

“can you hold on to me?”

satoru picks you up to your feet and holds onto you as you walk back inside. the two of you say your goodbyes, giving shoko and suguru two big hugs as you tell them how much you love them. the alcohol in your system had you in a grip to tell everyone how much they meant to you.

your sweet boyfriend was no exception.

he held your hand on the walk home as you swung it back and forth with your stride. you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him.

“you’re so pretty, satoru”

it sounded like you were on the verge of tears, and he wasn’t sure whether to cry with you or laugh. the best he could do was entertain it.

“oh, thank you, love”

“i love you”

“i know you do, i love you too!”

“no way”

that one seemed to get him, and he muffled a laugh quickly.

“way. it’s crazy, right?”

you thought for a bit before responding.

“yeahh~ so crazy”

satoru could barely contain himself. he didn’t like to bring out this side of you when you drank, but you were so doting and honest, his ego always got the better of him. he couldn’t get enough of it. he didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing that you loved him.

he hummed his tune, admiring the stars in the sky as you walked to your dorm. you joined in humming, off-beat and a little out of tune. if the universe were as kind as it had been to him so far, satoru hoped that you and him would be stars in the afterlife. he imagined you’d be next to one another, love forever stained in the infinite together.

it was the type of love people named constellations after. and there was a certain beauty in that satoru couldn’t put his finger on. he wanted to soak it up as much as possible.

satoru helped you back into your dorm, where he carefully got you both into your pajamas for the night.

“i love you, i love you,” was all you could say to him as he gently took off your makeup, washing your face after as he’d watch you do every night.

he didn’t outwardly say he knew your routine, but all the nights spent admiring you doing it on your own had burned into his mind. anything you did he found himself memorizing, committing it all to his memory so he can love and know you more and more.

“i love you too, honey” was the only thing he could say back to you, each one breaking his resolve a little bit more each time. he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss you all over, laugh, or cry. he wasn’t usually this emotional, but his soft spot for you crumbled with every ‘i love you’ that you said like a prayer.

he cared for your hair, gently brushing it out and fastening it in a way it wouldn’t knot. he scooped you out of bed to carry you to the bathroom, sitting you on the counter to brush your teeth for you.

“say ahh,” he giggled, and you could barely hold it together as you obeyed. your eyelids felt like sandbags, and you found yourself so content that you were slipping in and out of consciousness as satoru took care of you.

he placed you softly back in bed before grabbing water for you.

“i need you to drink this for me, baby”

you take big sips of the glass of water, the cool liquid soothing your nerves and the headache forming as the buzz wears off.

“very good, i’m proud of you,”

“i love you, satoru, you’re so pretty” you haven’t opened your eyes for a while. you said this out into the ether, hoping they’d collide with him wherever he was.

“am i now? thank you, love," he giggled. you were so adorable, he could barely stand it. he moved his hands to cup your face, slowly stroking your cheek and moving up towards your hairline.

it felt so good, you could feel yourself drifting off after only a few seconds of it all.

“can we cuddle?”

your voice was so quiet and mumbly that satoru could barely register it. he answered with a quick “mhm!” before shutting off the lights and hopping into bed with you.

he pulled you onto his chest, drawing a long line up and down your spine and combing his finger through your hair.

“satoru, we should go to parties more often,”

“i told you it’d be fun,”

“i want to dance more,”

your eyes were closed, sleep present in your voice and demeanor. your face was smushed against his chest, making every word an effort to push out.

“we also have a beer pong title to defend”

satoru began to close his eyes as you adjusted to wrap your arms around his bare torso. he couldn’t be more comfortable if he tried.

“i love you, satoru”

he didn’t answer with his usual ‘i know,’ this time. instead, he found himself hanging onto every word, digesting each one before he answered. but his answer was the same as it always was.

“i love you too”

he wishes there was a phrase invented to describe it better.

“love” is just scratching the surface. and in those moments between your matching confessions, satoru was digging for any way he could describe everything he wanted to say to you as swiftly as ‘i love you,’

he couldn’t find it, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

for now, he hoped you’d be patient with him as he looked. that you’d indulge him in thousands more ‘i love you’s’ so he could say it back every time, each one meaning more than the last.

but it was all too much for his brain to handle this late at night.

he decided to opt for a forehead kiss to you, who already fell asleep, before falling asleep himself and hoping he’d get to spend more time with you in his dreams.

all content © cinnamoneve 2023. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months ago

Note

AITA for not comforting a child after her science project didn't work?

( 💞💥 to find)

Okay this was a while ago but I still think about it sometimes and I'm genuinely unsure of if I did the right thinh.

So I (15F at the time) was a part of a science league thing facilitated by my school. Basically, you would meet after school once a week to study/work on projects, and then go to a competition in the spring against other schools. There were a bunch of different categories and activities but they were primarily separated into ones you had to study for (and would then take a test on) or build for (like a wheeled vehicle or a model plane, which would be graded). It was really fun and low-key compared to the sports programs at my school, so I liked it a lot.

A friend of mine, who we'll call S (15F) was also in the science league. We did a lot of study based competitions together, and usually placed in the competitions. During our third year, her youngest sister, M (12ish), joined the league. She was a really sweet and smart kid, and she was interested in trying a building based event. You needed two people to enter an event, so I volunteered to build a marble rollercoaster with her. M also grouped up with a girl in her grade for another building project (I think it was a plane).

Because M was doing two building events (which were predictably a lot more time consuming than the study events) and the school musical, we agreed I would create the plans for the rollercoaster and get the materials together. Now, each building events came with a printed copy of parameters and optional features that could get us bonus points. I decided on attempting for three bonus features (two jumps and a loop). Between designing on paper, adapting for the parameters, measuring out the track lengths, and gathering materials (that of which I had to switch out half way through), the whole process took me about four months to complete, and that was just the planning. We were getting pretty close to the competition date when we started to actually assemble the damn thing (at this point she had finished up her other stuff and was able to help me more consistently), and we were having a lot of issues with getting the track pieces to fit together. As I remember it, the problem came from having to fold the track over a bunch of times so it would stay in the 30cm-somethingish width parameter. The Thursday before the competition (which was in Saturday), M volunteered to take the coaster home and finish it there. I was honestly so relieved when she said this, because I knew through S that her dad was really handy, and like mini trebuchets and stuff for fun.

Flash forward to the event, when we're boarding the bus going to the school hosting the competition. She gets on with a cardboard box, and excitedly shows me a marble rollercoaster that is absolutely not what she left with at all. For reference, the original plan for the coaster was made of pvc pipe, which I spent around three weeks measuring out and cutting with a band saw in the shop room. This rollercoaster was two pieces of plywood with tinfoil tracks that you leaned against the cardboard box she was carrying it in. She hadn't included any of the extra features I had implemented to get us extra points. While I was shocked and admittedly pretty pissed I didn't say anything because she was a) a kid and b) I assumed that there was probably some issue that had arisen in testing that necessitated the changes. When we went to impound she struggled a lot with setting it up and the three pieces weren't attached with anything and were literally just leaning against each other. At this point it was also visually obvious that the width want way beyond 30 cms, and when the judges came around to measure, it turned out that it was above the allotted height too. M was looking really nervous about now, so I assured her that most of the time, the marbles don't even make it down the coaster tracks, and as long as our marble makes it to the end we should be able to place. Except, when it came time to release our marble, it moved for about three seconds before getting stuck in the tinfoil. We were allowed to try two more times, and it got stuck in the same place each time.

M was very visibly upset, and looking back I think she was on the verge of tears. It can't really remember what I said; I know I didn't say anything malicious or accusatory, though. Honestly, I think I might have just stood there in silence, because I was honestly really fucking angry that she ditched my design for no apparent reason and didn't bother to check any of the available rules or even test her design. But I don't think that anger justified leaving a little kid without support when she was upset.

tldr: When I was a teenager I didn't comfort my friends little sister after our marble rollercoaster didn't work because she had ditched the design I had made for one that broke parameters.

#aita #am i the asshole

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pcrushinnerd · 1 month ago

Text

Headcanons: Your Daughter Dressing Up As A Clown for Halloween

Summary: You and Arthur dress up your girl as a clown for Halloween upon her request.

A/N: Arthur and his fans could use some fluff about now, and this idea popped into my head a few days ago.

~~~

Yours and Arthur’s daughter is as cute as a button.

Each of you says she has the best features of the other.

But mostly, she just naturally has a bubbly personality. She's the ray of sunshine that chases away the dark clouds for you and especially Arthur.

She saw things with a child’s wonder and awe, especially the holidays.

LOVES Halloween. Before she’s even old enough to comprehend fully what it is.

Her first costume of sorts is a cat, her first Halloween of her young life. Which mostly consisted of a leopard print onesie and whiskers drawn on by Arthur with one of your eyebrow pencils.

Thereafter, you both let her “choose” her own costume for several years by showing her different pictures or buying whatever costume she eventually pointed to at the store, to whatever had struck her fancy that particular year.

Her choices had largely been pretty standard: ghost, witch, pumpkin, ninja, princess.

Around age six or seven, she had spied Arthur in full clown mode one day, and she was instantly enamored.

"I want to be a clown this year!"

Arthur nearly fainted, he was so over the moon at that response to your yearly costume query.

You had asked earlier that year, because you had a funny feeling she was looking to do something more elaborate, from how closely she would look through your sewing patterns and craft supplies around that time. So the three of you had time to put together something good.

Arthur sat her down one day shortly after with a bunch of crayons and colored pencils so she could start to design what she wanted. He had his own input on things--mostly the finer details of traditional and newer clown costumes, the why behind things, aesthetic choices, etc., that you could tell he himself studied up on at some point, but he offered them as helpful tips and suggestions, and made encouraging comments on whatever your daughter dreamed up.

Finally, they unveiled the final design to you one day after you got home from work. 'Ta Da!!!' your little girl announced as she held up her drawing.

You slipped off your hat as you took it in hand. "Aww, baby, I'm so proud of you! Let's see what we got." You were surprised at how many frills it had in its skirt, and unfortunately you had to say no to the high heels she'd drawn (Arthur had also scribbled something about that), but you informed her that you should be able to make it work.

And so you dusted off your sewing machine. You preferred working with your hands, but you knew the machine would be quicker and the end result with it would likely look better. So after a bit of struggling to get the bobbin to work, you took your girl and Arthur with you to your favorite hole in the wall craft store nearby.

All sorts of pastel colored fabric samples were purchased, along with bows and bells and some fake flowers. It was a bit of a splurge for the two of you, but both of you did have a hard time saying no her.

It took you about two weeks, but you managed to put together a dress with a full, frilly skirt made of the colorful and sometimes glittery or shiny fabrics bought, as well as a matching headband.

Arthur had managed to find a smaller clown horn with a pink bulb to match for your daughter's costume. Mostly, his contribution came in doing her make-up the day of. Each time he added a circle or triangle, he let her review his handiwork in the mirror and, with her approval, continued on.

Her final look wasn't too different from what Arthur would wear--just a bit neater and cuter.

"Daddy, won't you dress up too?"

Arthur was a bit hesitant at that, but he couldn't bring himself to say no to her. "Of course Darling."

You couldn't help but smile broadly when you saw Carnival enter the room, holding your girl in his arms.

The two of you also splurged a bit to have a car take you to the nicer suburbs west of the city for actual trick or treating. Besides a handful of nice neighbors in your building...you generally don't trust the people in your own neighborhood enough to go knocking on their doors.

Your daughter gets a lot of compliments on her outfit, and Arthur gets quite a few as well.

A few of the people passing out candy give you a curious look--as you were the only one dressed normally in your little family.

You would quip that you were ‘the driver’ or ‘the assistant’ or the like.

Your daughter managed to snag quite the candy haul that night. After both of you carefully examine them, you let her have a few pieces on the car ride back.

Yet despite the sugar, your girl is asleep on her Daddy's shoulder when you arrive back home, she's that tuckered out.

You and Arthur stay up for a bit, after he's de-clowned, to watch a classic horror movie or two and try to avoid eating your girl's candy stash. You mostly succeed.

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck headcanon #arthur fleck headcanons #arthur fleck fanfic #joker #joker 2019 #joker fanfiction #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #I leave it to you to decide if Arthur’s already Joker here or just working as a party clown #carnival

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queenshelby · 2 years ago

Text

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART FOUR: THE ESSAY

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Mentions of Depression, Anxiety

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

PLEASE NOTE THAT I HAVE REWRITTEN THIS STORY AND PART TWO CAN BE FOUND HERE (rewritten).

A week had passed and you had settled back into drama school without any problem whatsoever which, to you and your best friend Emma, was a surprise.

You had told Emma everything. You told her about the night you spent with Cillian three weeks ago, you told her about who he was and you told her exactly how you felt about this man being your lecturer now. It bothered you and you desperately wanted to quit, feeling torn about the attraction you still felt towards him while being with James.

Luckily for you, however, Emma was the voice of reason. Like always, she supported you, retained your secrets and reminded you that it would just be for four months and then he would move on and so would you. The semester would be over by the end of November. It was your final one and you would probably not see him again after that.

“Don’t forget that you are on a scholarship. You need this and, no doubt, this class will help you with your acting skills” is what Emma reminded you of and, since you were grateful for the place you were in these days, you agreed with her. She was right. You needed this in order to leave your past behind as, just like Emma, you went through the so called “foster system” in the US which was nothing short of horrific.

Both, Emma and you immigrated to the United States without a family to support you. You arrived as refugees at the same processing centre when you were just ten years old, making you both unsuitable for adoption which was largely due to the fact that most families approved for adoption wanted babies or toddlers under the age of three.

As such, you both moved from one foster home to another and the last of them was the worst for you. Your so-called foster parents were strict and any time you did not obey to their rules, you were punished for it. Food was withheld from you and, on occasion, you were even beaten to the point where your skin turned blue. During this time, you had been to hospital five times and no matter how often you complained, nothing changed until you ran away.

You had nowhere to stay for a while and then, when you turned sixteen, you moved out into a home designed for girls like you. It was a home for young women who went through abuse and this was exactly where, after several years, you reunited with Emma.

The facility provided excellent care for anyone who needed it but, on occasion, you felt somewhat worthless and ashamed about having lived there. Thus, you eventually took not one, but three jobs while furthering your studies at night through a state-run school. You moved out shortly after that and the college you went through helped you and Emma to apply for a scholarship abroad.

Together with eight other students in the state, you received some funding to attend different universities and schools across Europe, for which the ones based in Dublin became your choice.

Unlike London, Dublin was affordable for you both. You were now sharing a tiny studio apartment, and the money you received alongside your scholarship helped a lot.

You were an excellent dancer and, because of it, you now only had to have one rather than three jobs to support yourself, making your life relatively easy in comparison to your past.

In accordance to James and Lorraine however, who were rich and entitled, you still worked too hard. You had nothing in common with them and, even though James had been dating you for years, he always criticised you and your life choices.

He criticised you for having run away from your foster-home. He criticised you for working forty hours per week and he criticised you for saving money almost religiously.

On occasion, he also criticized your looks and the fact that you dressed too plainly. Your clothes were largely second hand, a mix of denim, sneakers, and plain coloured shirts. You owned two dresses, both black and wearing make-up was a rarity for you and you were told by your boyfriend that you should be making more of an effort for him.

But then, why should you? He never made an effort for you and being with him made you wonder whether you could ever leave your past behind. He had no idea how good his life had been while the memories of your past kept haunting you, playing with your mind.

You reflected on your past quite often. It was what kept you grounded even when you were around people like James and Lorraine. But speaking about this pain was something you struggled to do ever since you opened up to James about your upbringing. It was almost like he was embarrassed by you because if it and this hurt more than the bruises you sustained all those years ago.

Unfortunately for you though, reflecting on your past was something you were required to do as part of your first essay in PRAC300. You had to write about yourself, in a creative kind of way, drawing parallels between any painful events you encountered and a fictional character you were reading about. You had to write about how you felt in the midst of a difficult situation and then describe how you would show your emotions about such events in front of others.

Why this was relevant to your acting skills you did not know, but you wrote down what you thought anyway without putting much effort into your work. You made something up and when you submitted the paper to Cillian, you also chose to ask him about the curriculum for this unit moving forward. Again, you were playing with the idea of quitting now, but you weren’t quite sure how.

Until such day, you had largely ignored him and he had ignored you. In class, he pretended that you did not exist and rarely ever called you out to answer any questions. Without your knowledge though, this was his very own defence mechanism. It was his way of coping while he adjusted to the fact that he was meant to be teaching you now and by asking him about the essay and upcoming unit content, you took him off guard.

In addition to your questions about the curriculum though, today was also the day where, even if this particular essay was not in play, you could no longer have ignored him as, just last night, photos of him on a date with a fellow actress emerged on Twitter.

Of course, you took no interest in Twitter, but other disappointed students like Lorraine shared this information with you before class. The actresses’ name was Sophie O’Callum and she was currently filming in Dublin. Sophie was in her late thirties which, to you, seemed like an appropriate age for Cillian. She was blonde, skinny and incredibly good looking, creating a fair bit of jealously amongst your peers and this emerging jealousy quickly became evident to you during class.

Usurpingly, after hearing the news, Lorraine was rather upset about the date. She was now trying it on hard with your fellow lecturer and this, in itself, became amusing when Cillian shut her down.

It was obvious to you that he was annoyed by her and whilst you felt sorry for her, you also secretly enjoyed the fact that he retained his professionalism in class especially when Lorraine made advances towards him.

But, that’s not to say that you were not a little jealous too about Cillian’s date with an equally famous actress and you did not know why. You only ever slept with Cillian once and the fact that he was seeing someone else should not have bothered you. But did it. It upset you and, thus, when you finally walked into his office after class to ask him about the essay and unit content, you had to put on an act. You had to pretend that you did not care about his date and, for all you knew, he probably bought it.

***

“Hey Y/N, how can I help you?” Cillian asked after you walked into his office before shutting the door behind you.

“You look like you had a big night” you observed while watching him rub his eyes for the millionth time that day. He did this all throughout class and now he did it again, right in front of you.

“What makes you say that?” he wondered.

“You look a bit dusty” you pointed out with a giggle in order to lighten the mood.

“I may have had a few too many pints, but don’t tell the dean, alright?” Cillian teased, knowing that you would not say a word to the school’s principal.

“As if I would” you pointed out nonetheless before bringing up his date. “Although, you do realise that the pictures of you and Sophie O’Callum are all over the internet, right? You both looked drunk and knackered” you laughed but Cillian simply furrowed his eyebrows.

“Seriously?” he asked after picking up his phone and googling himself.

“Don’t you follow yourself on socials?” you wondered as you watched what he was doing.

“I don’t have social media” Cillian chuckled before telling you that he was too old for it, which was a comment that amused it.

“Oh please” you laughed which was when he quickly and somewhat unexpectedly addressed the rumours he was reading.

“Just for the record though, this was not a date. We went out for drinks and then we went our separate ways” he pointed out and, whilst you secretly felt relieved about what he was saying, you put on your acting hat and furrowed your eyebrows.

“And you are telling me this why?” you asked as if you were not interested in what he had to say and Cillian bought it and snapped out of it.

“Good question” he said before asking why you were in here to see him.

“I have a question about the essay which I handed in earlier today” you said before carrying on. “How are my emotions relevant to this class?” you asked and, before you could point out to him that you felt uncomfortable with the essay topic, Cillian began to explain.

“Well, learning how to act starts with learning about emotions and how to display them on screen or on stage. Often actors can draw from their own experiences and…” he said just before you interrupted him.

“But this stuff is personal” you blurted out to which Cillian simply shrug his shoulders.

“It’s part of the curriculum Y/N. I didn’t write those essay templates. I don’t even get to grade them” he informed you, causing you to sigh.

“But you will read them?” you wondered.

“Yes. I will read them and then pass them on for grading, with my comments…” Cillian began to explain and you interrupted him again.

“Fuck” you spat. “We slept with each other and I don’t want you to know about my past and my fucking emotions” you told him and, to your surprise, Cillian reacted in a gentle kind of way.

“Y/N, I won’t judge you for whatever happened to you in the past. What you write in your essay is confidential and whether we slept with each other or not is irrelevant. We both agreed to put this one-night stand behind us and that is what I am doing, alright?” he said and this was all you needed to hear before storming out of his office.

Three days later…

Three days had passed and, like most Mondays, you arrived at school early that morning. You had just been for a run, showered and sat down with your lunchbox, which is when you saw Cillian walk into the lecture hall with a cup of coffee in his hand.

He was surprised to see you there and, after putting down his mug, he approached you.

“Y/N,” he murmured almost nervously.

“Cillian. Good Morning” you smiled and, after engaging in a little small talk, he addressed the elephant in the room.

“After class, could we, maybe, talk about your essay submission please” was what he said and your heart immediately skipped a beat.

“Yes. Sure. I will see you at your office then? What time works for you?” was your response and, within seconds, you locked in a time while, the truth was, that you had no idea about what you were going to tell him. What was it that he needed to hear from you, you wondered? The truth? You weren’t going to give him that. He was better off failing you and get the professor to give you a bad grade.

So clearly, this was not going to go anywhere and, just as you were sitting in Cillian’s class again, you reflected on all the pain you felt when thinking back at when you were a young teenager.

It was this kind of pain you did not want him to know about so you sat there, awkwardly, like a pathetic loser, raising your hand, answering questions, to make up the credits that you would need after he failed your essay.

You put on act and, luckily for you, he never called you out that day. He left you be, sitting quietly at the back of the class room and then, without giving it any thought whatsoever, you were the first one out the door after a two-hour session, wanting to avoid him at all cost.

Yes, you needed to go and see him at his office. But you had no intention to actually do so, at least not now while your heart was racing and anxiety took over your anxious brain. You had no idea what to tell him and simply wanted to be left alone right now.

“Will I see you in ten?” Cillian reminded you nonetheless in passing as the students behind you were all hanging back, chatting and joking with the others. Lorraine, in particular, attempted to put on an act of her own, flirting with Cillian again.

“Yes, I will see you then” you confirmed nervously before you quickly made your way to the ladies room.

The lady’s lavatory followed a dull theme of light green. It was dated and made you feel a little nauseous.

You were nervous about meeting with Cillian about your essay and thus splashed some cold water on to your face before taking deep breaths. Then, when you looked into the mirror you saw the ghost of a girl who had died a long time ago.

Your face was gaunt and all your features were sunken in. Your eyes, once your best feature, were the only things that seemed to stand out now, as if you were just that, all vacant and lifeless. There was nothing else to look at. You were already disappearing and realised that you were all bones and baggage now, made up of shadows and secrets and nothing, nothing at all.

Then, you recalled what your dance coach had said to you just recently, telling you that you were one of the best dancers in class, but you lacked emotion. You lacked expression and you certainly lacked happiness. It was obvious to him, which is why he suggested an acting class to you. But perhaps acting skills were not what you needed. Perhaps you simply needed some happiness in your life, but felt as though you were not entitled to it.

Then you remembered, that, just a few weeks ago, you did feel alive and happy for one night only and this was the night you had spent with Cillian.

It was strange, exciting and sensual and certainly felt different to when you were with James who did not help the way you felt within your own body. You were insecure and, at least in your mind, there was nothing special about you.

Being with James was like a bad habit, just like smoking. You kept him around and went back to him simply for the fact that he provided something to you which you were familiar with. He provided structure, security and you adored his family.

But he did not excite you. Life did not excite you. It never did. It was painful to be who you were and, thus, you wanted to break every mirror in the bathroom. Every time you saw yourself you saw the sad little girl you used to be and still were, caught in this viscous cycle of negative thoughts. You were afraid to take risks because it had been enshrined in to you throughout foster care that taking risks was wrong. You lacked your very own family and love and often wondered whether your life would change one day.

Then, eventually, you locked yourself into a stall to get away from your reflection. You knew that you were nearing another mental breakdown any minute now and began to scream, quietly, but loud enough for others to hear.

It was quarter past ten now and you had been there, inside the lavatory stall, for fifteen minutes. You put your head in your hands, your fingernails digging into your face, wanting to scream but not having the nerve to do it.

Traumatising thoughts about your past visited you just like bad dreams did at night. You were losing your mind or maybe you have lost it already.

Some time passed, but you could not tell how much. You just let yourself slip away from reality for a bit but then, suddenly, the sound of the restroom door swishing open made you jump, startling you out of your mad, mad thoughts. A familiar pair of brown leather shoes came to stop outside of your stall.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" were the words you heard next and, suddenly, time slowed. Your skin burned and your voice was shaky when you spoke.

"Please go. You are not meant to be in here" you said although you were not even sure if you really wanted him to, but you said it anyways.

"But I am in here now and I am not leaving. Lorraine said that you have been in the lavatory for over half an hour. So, please come out before I tare the door open and embarrass myself in front of the entire school” Cillian chuckled, but with great concern in his voice. He knew that you were simply hiding in there and he was clearly worried about you and your wellbeing.

“Fuck. Seriously?” you stammered as you got up slowly and opened the stall door.

“Yes! Seriously Y/N! Clearly, you are avoiding me and I thought that we talked about everything that we needed to talk about. But, I supppose I was wrong as, first, you submit this ridiculous paper to me and now you are hiding from me…’ Cillian then said quietly as he was facing away from you in what you presumed to be an effort to give you some privacy, but his eyes then met yours when you looked in the reflection of the mirror.

You saw yourself too, standing in front of him with tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, fuck, are you okay? Did something happen? Should I call the student counsellor?” Cillian then asked anxiously when he noticed your tears and you tried to hold his gaze, but his eyes were too intense so you looked down at the tiled floor.

"God no, please. I just had a moment. I am okay” you stammered quickly but Cillian looked sceptical.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he then asked politely but you shook your head.

“I think I embarrassed myself enough already” you then told him but his eyebrows furrowed quickly.

“You are afraid of your own emotions and I get that. Most people are. But you know what I have learned throughout many years of acting?” Cillian said quietly again but, this time, with a warm and gentle smile.

“What?” you asked, wondering where he was going with this.

“That accepting and dealing with your emotions is an integral part of life. Unless you do that, you are not going to be happy and you most certainly will struggle with the line of work you chose. So, if you need to talk with someone about the way you feel, then talk to me. I am here to listen and what happened between us doesn’t matter, alright? I am not the kind of person who sees things superficially and, I don’t know why, but I do care about you. I want you to be okay” Cillian then explained while gently rubbing his palms over your upper arms and you were glad for his words and the way he spoke them, in a gentle and caring way.

“Thank you, Cillian” you cried before taking a deep breath. “Can I redo my paper?” you then asked. You still did not want to talk with him about your past just yet and hoped that he would accept your offer in lieu of an explanation as to why you were so anxious right now.

“I was hoping that you would and I want you to know that, when you do, I will not judge you or think any less of you for what you write” Cillian reassured you and, after you gave him a quick nod and wiped away your tears, he walked towards the door of the lavatory and held it open for you.

“Can you redo the paper by Wednesday? I need to pass it on to the unit co-ordinator” Cillian then said with a slight chuckle and unbothered by the fact that he just came walking out of the ladies’ bathroom with you.

“I can. And I am sorry for my slobby work” you then said and Cillian smiled. God, he was so beautiful and you stared shamelessly at him. He should not have become a lecturer at school full of young female students. Temptation was going to come knocking at his door, hordes of twenty something year olds begging to be noticed, to be loved, to be fucked. It was insanity and, just like Lorraine and some others, you wanted him and that was another form of madness.

A few days later…

Eventually, Wednesday came about and, when it did, your first stop was at Cillian’s office. You had promised to hand in your revised paper by nine and so you did.

This time, your effort was six pages long and included a large spiel about the foster care system in the US and how it shaped you from an emotional perspective.

It also included an array of emotions you believed many others like you felt when dealing with every-day life and you drew an analysis about them to the character you read about.

It was a paper which you had prepared with great care and thought and, in the end, the references to pieces of literature within your writing impressed Cillian so much so that, on Thursday evening, he sent you a message on the school’s online portal.

“I am impressed. This was certainly worth the wait” he said with an emoji on the end and his message certainly made you laugh.

“I am glad, because it wasn’t easy to write knowing that you would be the one reading it” you responded quickly after you saw Cillian’s message pop up as a notification on your phone at around 10 o’clock that night and, the fact that he wrote to you that late made you wondered whether he was thinking about you.

Clearly, he had read the paper on Wednesday morning already before making his notes on it and sending it to the unit co-ordinator, so why did he only message you now? There must have been a reason for it, right?

Unbeknownst to you, there was most certainly a reason behind this message. Cillian had, indeed, been thinking about you and the truth was that he was taken by what you wrote in your essay.

He saw the care you took in writing down your every thought and your very own emotions and, whilst he could sense that you were hurt by the system, he did not consider you to be weak. To the contrary, he considered you to be much stronger than you thought yourself you were. You took matters into your own hands after the system had failed you. Unlike James, Cillian was impressed by your courage and soon realised why it was you who had been chosen for the scholarship.

You were determined and, whilst you struggled to come to terms with your feelings about what happened to you, you were emotionally intelligent. You knew what you needed to do and you knew about the bad influences in your life. You just had to act upon your desires, follow your goals and leave your pain and restraints in past.

As such, Cillian had nothing to add to your paper and thought about it every night since. There was something about you which intrigued him even more now and his thoughts about you were not just sexual anymore. His interest in you was on a different kind of level now and the feelings he was starting to have for you bothered him, causing him to supress his very own emotions.

He had to put on an act of his own, pretending that he was not interested in you but, every time he had a pint with his best mate Dermont, Cillian’s true feelings surfaced as, suddenly, the conversations they shared were about you.

Even though Cillian assured him that he had forgotten all about your short lived fling, Dermont did not believe him as his friend spoke about you with a lot of admiration.

In addition to that, Dermont also knew that Cillian was not the type of guy who would engage in one-night stands and then never think about them again. He must have liked you if he took you home, to his house that night. And he most certainly had not forgotten about you now that you were his student as every conversation about his work was also about you, your talent and the way you interacted with him.

A few days later…

Eventually, Friday came around and it was another day where you had a lecture in PRAC300 before commencing your on-stage experience for which you were each given an on-stage character role and a script to read.

The roles were allocated randomly and when you were assigned the role of a mother who had recently lost her child, you could not help but sigh. It was not a role you were confident to act out and, yet, you knew that you had no choice. You had to take the role just as the other students had to take theirs. This included James who, also, ended up with a role that he was unhappy about but, unlike you, he spoke about it in Cillian’s class.

“Cillian, man, I think there is a mistake” he said in an arrogant way. “This role should be given to a girl” James determined, causing Cillian to furrow his eyebrows.

“Why?” Cillian asked, seeing that James had been drawn for the role of a character named Tina.

“Because Tina is a girl. I am playing a fucking girl” James laughed but Cillian did not think that his comment was funny and neither did you.

“Not exactly James. The role is non-binary” Cillian explained before telling him that this was an acting class. “It is important for you to step out of your comfort zone” Cillian furthermore said before pointing out that two female students in the class are portraying male characters as well.

“Now, if I can get everyone to schedule a time with me for the next week so that we can go through your role, one on one, that would be fantastic. I intend to allocate half an hour to each student” Cillian said and, of course, Lorraine and some of the other female students were quick to snap up the first available spots, leaving them with next to no time to prepare.

Luckily for Lorraine, she was portraying a young female teacher who was in love with her student. It was a role based on a book you had read quite recently and the fact that she got this role was rather amusing to you. She had an interest in Cillian and it was basically a matter of roles in reverse, if only Cillian had known.

When it was finally your turn to book in a time with Cillian however, you realised that your work schedule clashed with his remaining availabilities and it was at this point that he made an exception for you which was something that got you talking.

“I give dance classes from 3 o’clock to 6 o’clock each day and I cannot get out of them. It pays the bills and I am teaching ten teens for their upcoming dance competition in Cork so I have no idea what to do” you told him after the last student left the room and, sure enough, he remembered your passion for dancing.

“You teach dance? I did not know that. Are you enjoying it?” Cillian asked surprised and you nodded.

“Yes. I love it” you told him while he looked at his calendar.

“Alright, so how about 7 o’clock on Thursday then? It is after hours but I could come in and see you here” Cillian offered and you were surprised by his suggestion.

“Is that not too late for you?” you wondered, knowing that he had children as well.

“Well, generally speaking, Thursdays and Fridays are good for me. My ex has the kids those days and, even if they were to come over, they are old enough to look after themselves for an hour or two” Cillian responded before telling you that they often do their own thing now that they are older, meeting up with friends after school and playing games at the local arcade.

“So, where do you teach dancing?” Cillian then wanted to know, being more chatty than usual.

“At the Dublin School of Dance. I teach contemporary dance and ballet” you told Cillian who, again furrowed his eyebrows.

“My daughter goes to that school twice a week” Cillian told you before showing you a photograph of her which he took during her last class.

“No way! I think I have met your daughter then” you said while Cillian was sliding through the photographs and you could immediately see the resembles of him in his daughter. They had the same pale freckled skin and light-coloured hair.

“Really?” he asked with great surprise and a hint of concern.

“Yes. She is in Miriam Mill’s class, isn’t she?” you asked and Cillian nodded before telling you that Miriam was leaving soon. She had an offer from another Dance School in London which she took.

“She is leaving, yes. But, your daughter will get another pretty awesome teacher soon, so don’t you worry” you then teased and Cillian furrowed his eyebrows quickly.

“Really? Is that new teacher good?” he asked without realising that you were going to be his daughter’s new teacher.

“She is the best” you joked before telling him that you would be taking on the classes for her age group in a couple of weeks.

“Talking about awkwardness” Cillian then said with concern, seeing that this may become a little weird but, to you, it meant nothing. If anything, you were looking forward to meeting Cillian’s daughter properly and preparing her for the dance competitions.

“Yeah, I mean, you could enrol her into another dance school if you like” you said nonetheless but he chuckled.

“And explain this to my ex how?” Cillian asked while cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, you could tell her that you slept with the ballet teacher who also happens to be your student at drama school. I am sure that would make quite a story” you joked and Cillian quickly reminded you to be discreet.

“Y/N, please…” he said while you laughed.

“God, relax Cillian. I am going to make sure that she has fun and excels with her routine for the finals. There is no bad blood between us and, like I said, nothing ever happened right? It was just sex, a one off, that is it. No one will ever know about it. My lips are sealed” you promised him and Cillian gave you a reluctant nod.

“Yes, it was just sex” he repeated quietly after ensuring that there was no one around. “So, Thursday, 7 o’clock then?” he then asked and you confirmed.

“Yes, 7 o’clock is great. Thank you. But I must go now. I am already late for training. Thanks Cillian” you said before grabbing your things and walking through the door.

To be continued… Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please! Tag List

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x oc

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bed-chemist · 1 year ago

Text

❝you've never been to heaven, have you?❞

A/N: this is my first time writing something for tumblr, or like this in general. feedback is greatly appreciated. this also isn't edited so ignore any mistakes. as a baking girly, i couldn't get this story out of my head. i legit would lay in bed at night and dream about hard-ass chef miller and the sweet baker. enjoy ♡

Prelude Summary: the sweetest baker has a birthday lunch with her friends, effectively humbling the chef in the process.

Chapter Warnings: death of a parent (mentioned), language, alcohol, slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), threatening (brief, joke between two girl friends in an established friendship).

Key Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, slow burn, dual-pov, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

⋆ word count: 3.7k ⋆

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

JUNE 30TH

“Welcome to The Austin. I assume you have a reservation?”

Of course, we had a reservation.

This was one of the hardest restaurants to get into. The reviews are excellent and they’re rumored to be gunning for a Michelin Star. Luckily, my best friend Madeline was what you considered Chicago pretty. Her charisma and beauty make her a shoo-in for being a model.

The long and wavy blonde hair cascades over her back as she flutters her lashes at the host behind the stand. “Yes. It’s my best friend’s birthday and we have a reservation under Madeline Crown,” she speaks for our small group, shoving me forward as the designated birthday girl. A mischievous twinkle flashes in her blue eyes and her smile takes over.

Raising my hand, I wave awkwardly at the host. “That’s me,” I admit shyly, adjusting my falling crown and sash.

He flashes me a small smile. “Happy Birthday,” he breathes quickly before tapping the screen. “Just the three of you, Ms. Crown?” he asks Maddie, looking behind us at the group.

The phrase makes me grimace. My parents died in a car accident five hundred fifty-six days ago. And for five hundred fifty-six days, I’ve been suffering. They were the closest people to me and left me alone in this world as an only child. The only family I have left is the one I’ve created with Madi, Leo, and their families. I didn’t want to burden them with my birthday festivities, so Madi and I opted for lunch with just the three of us.

“Yeah. And we need a booth away from eyes,” the third voice in our trio, Leonardo, blurts out. He shifts, anxious to get to our table and out of the lobby. Out of the three of us, he’s more likely to have to be bombarded by people during this lunch given our current surroundings.

Why on earth did I choose to be friends with a socialite and a senator? I don’t like attention and as of now, all eyes are on us. The sash and crown Maddie forced me to wear don’t help.

His two secret service agents stand upright a few paces back. We’d planned for weeks to get clearance for this lunch, so having them tag along was only a slight damper. “Right this way,” the host snaps me out of my spiral, grabbing a couple of menus and motioning us to follow him.

My feet carry me forward through the restaurant behind Madi, who stops to exchange pleasantries with an acquaintance. Softly brushing past her, I continue to follow the host with Leo and his team trailing behind me.

The restaurant is situated on the top floor in the middle of downtown. The open windows allow natural light in and the faint smell of steak wafts through the air as we weave through the open floorplan. My back hunches forward feeling slightly out of place in a room full of the fabulously wealthy.

Although I’m not entirely broke, my bakery just got in the black. If it weren’t for the parental death and what they passed on to me, I’d still studying to be a nurse. But after their death, I decided I’d only do things that would make me happy. Now the glaring separation between me and the rich and powerful feels like a slap in the face.

We reach a square table near the corner of the space. We’re still in view of everyone, there’s just room for Leo’s secret service to stand between us and them. Leo pulls a chair out for me closest to the window and I thank him, sliding into my seat.

The host puts the menus down on the table in front of us before letting us know our server will be with us shortly. Leo thanks him before taking his seat next to me, with his back towards the majority of the restaurant.

Leo sighs as Madi joins us again. “What did I miss?” she huffs.

Rolling my eyes, me and Leo open our menus, “Literally nothing. We just sat down,” I tell her, jokingly.

After some time of reading the menu, the tips of Madi’s fingers twinkle on the table out of the corner of my eye. Her sparkly white nail polish immediately catches my attention. “Well, this place is to die for. What is everyone getting?” she beams.

Flipping back and forth between the sides and appetizer pages, I furrow my eyebrows. “Why the fuck would you bring me to a place with no fries on my birthday?” I ask her begrudgingly.

Leo flips back to the appetizer page and slides his menu over. “They have baked potatoes,” he mansplains, pointing at the page.

Pushing the bound leather book back before him, I shake my head. “I hate to break it to you but that’s not french fries, Bookie,” I counter.

Madi puts her hands up in defense. “They’re a potato. I thought you’d be good with any potato,” she explains.

Leaning back into my chair, I rub my eyebrows in frustration. “Yeah, but I don’t even like steak and we’re at a steak restaurant on my birthday. You know what, fuck it. I’m getting Mcdonalds after–” I start before cutting myself off, noticing the server approaching the table. I don’t want to be rude in a nice restaurant, especially one that’s been so accommodating to my friends.

A brunette woman stands near us. “Welcome to The Austin. My name is Lisa and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you all started with something to drink?” she asks the table.

Sitting up, my mouth opens to speak, but Madi cuts in. “3 margaritas, and keep them coming,” she instructs Lisa.

Lisa nods, flashing a smile towards us. “I’ll be right back with those for you,” she chirps, shifting on her heels to walk towards the back again.

Leo tilts his head at the blonde after we’re left alone. “I can’t drink on the job, Mads,” he scolds Madeline.

Madi shrugs, giving him her signature smirk. “Good thing no one has to know but the three of us, golden boy,” she says, twirling her finger around the table.

Leo seemingly takes the statement to heart, scoffing and crossing his arms. “Oh fuck off. I’m not golden,” he counters.

Shaking my head, I rub his arm so no one snaps a photo of Senator Torres all pent up. “No, you’re not. You’ve just become Mr. Americana to the rest of the world. But we know who you truly are,” I attempt to comfort him. The holes being stared into the back of my head are proving to be lethal.

Leo’s dark brown eyes involuntarily squint as he smiles. “Thank you, Miggy,” he gushes and his body language softens.

And suddenly, I have the ick from the mention of my nickname. How the fuck did Madi date Leo? It was years ago but still. I would’ve thrown up every time he opened his mouth.

Removing my hand from his arm, I raise my eyebrow. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” I remind him.

“Might want to ask my assistant about that. I wouldn’t know,” he jokes and I resist the urge to smack him in the chest.

Not in public and not around bodyguards who could take you down in seconds.

Lisa returns with our drinks and I pick the glass up, taking a sip of the lime-flavored beverage. “What can I get you to eat today?” she asks, glancing back and forth between Madi and me.

Madi chirps her order to Lisa as my eyes scan back and forth over the page. None of the entrees were less than two hundred bucks, and I didn’t have breakfast.

I can’t drink on an empty stomach. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it,” Leo leans over and murmurs to me.

Shaking my head, I lean towards him to close the gap. “No. Fuck no,” I whisper yell. He could put it on his card, but I’d still Venmo him for lunch afterward.

He nods with a toothy grin taking over his face. “It’s your birthday and you’re not paying. Get whatever you want,” He objected with finality, turning towards Lisa to order.

Leo’s deep voice drifts to the back of my mind as I scan the menu one last time, finally ready to order. Lisa comes over to me and I decide to try the steak and crab, hoping it’ll change my mind.

Two more rounds of drinks into the lunch, the appetizers arrive at the table. The muscles and oysters taste okay, but the escargot is orgasmic. The buttery breadcrumbs combined with the sourdough has me forgetting I’m eating a snail. Leo and Madi graciously allow me to finish off the plate, offering to order more if I’m interested. Instead of accepting, I fight the urge to lick the plate clean.

When our steaks arrive, Madi claps with excitement. The whole presentation of the meals is rather dramatic. Each dish and its components are read before the plate hits the table.

My mouth waters as my filet mignon and grilled king crab leg is set in front of me. Madi snaps a photo for her social media while Leo and I dig into our meals.

My face soon changes from excitement to a grimace as I try the main course. This is fucking disgusting. The grilled crab is burnt and the filet mignon tastes like rubber. My mouth is only able to chew a few bites before scrambling for my drink.

Leo peers up from his plate, tilting his head. “The fuck is your problem?” he questions me.

Shaking my head, I finish off my third margarita. “Nothing,” I murmur. I should be grateful that I’m even here at all. This place is way out of my budget.

Madi seemingly decides to join the conversation and put her two cents in. “It’s not nothing. If you don’t like the food, they’ll remake it. Look, here comes the owner,” She scolds, nodding to the area behind me.

My upper body slowly twists around to see who she’s talking about. The man in question is walking towards us dressed in crisp white chef attire. My eyes drink him in and I notice his curly chocolate hair. I notice a stray curl falling in front of his face and suddenly, I have the overwhelming urge to reach up and fix it.

I continue my shameless perusal of his body, down to his cuffed shirt hugging him so perfectly and tightly that I can see his muscles. My breathing slightly speeds up.

That is a beautiful specimen of a man.

I’m jolted out of my stare as Leo stands from the table, nodding to the security. “He’s good. It’s his restaurant, for god's sake,” he barks.

My body becomes stiff as the tall man moves smoothly into our area. “Senator Torres, Sir. Thank y’all for your support,” the stranger smiles slightly, extending his hand for Leo to shake.

Leo’s hand tightens its grip, with his other coming up to smack the man’s elbow. Oh, they know each other well. “No, thank you. The catering you made for my election gala was the reason I won the election,” Leo boasts.

So this is the famous chef they’ve been ranting and raving about. I was out of the country securing the last of my parent's affairs when the gala was thrown; something Leo was gracious enough to let me miss.

The handsome man smiles softly, moving his attention to Madi. “Nice to see you again Ms. Crown. Everythin’ tastin’ great, I see,” he charms her with a smirk on his face.

My eyebrows furrow trying to pin down his southern accent. Chicago is a metropolitan city, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he were from Louisiana or Florida. Especially with that beautiful tan, he’s adorning.

Madi straightens her back like a cannon ready to fire. “With mine? Yes. But with Ginny’s not so much. Chef Miller, meet the birthday girl, Imogen,” she introduces us and I’m rendered speechless. His deep brown eyes seemingly stare a hole into my soul.

Anxiety creeps up my spine feeling put on the spot and having to give a bad review in person. “Hi,” I wave shyly.

Chef Miller’s eyes squint in suspicion, focusing down on the food before fixing his gaze back up on me. I silently thank the gods above for a brief break from his intense stare. “You don’t like the steak, darlin’?” he asks, pointedly.

Oh, fuck off. The man is gorgeous, but his food is shit. But, his use of the word darling has me hanging on to every syllable he utters. Shaking my head, I roll my shoulders back a bit. Put the lonely and horny brain away for a second, Ginny. “Or the crab,” I answer.

Chef Miller’s eyebrows raise and I start to etch the details of his face into my brain mentally. He might be early thirties, but the wrinkles on his forehead hint that he’s been through some things. “Nobody has ever complained about my cookin’. What’s wrong with it?” he questions me in his deep husky voice.

Clearing my throat, I bring the plate back in front of me. “It's dry and burnt,” I pause, beckoning Chef Miller over to stand beside me. He walks a bit closer and when he leans over, I can feel his body hovering over mine. When I take a breath, I can smell smoke on him with an undertone of cedar.

Moving the food around on the plate, I show him his shotty work. “Look,” I point out with my fork.

Chef Miller grunts, reaching forward and effectively caging me in between his body in the table. “I’m sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. Can I get you somethin’ else?” He apologizes, swiftly removing the plate from my view.

Shaking my head, I replay reading the menu in my mind. “No, it’s fine. I don’t like anything on the menu,” I explain solemnly, turning towards him. I don’t want him to feel responsible for my picky eating habits, either.

Chef Miller frowns, “It’s your birthday, honey. I’m not sendin’ you out hungry and upset,” he counters.

Reaching out, I put my hand on his exposed forearm in an attempt to get him to listen to me. “I’m not upset. I wouldn’t lie to you,” I loosely promise him. His eyes snap down to where my fingers are connected to his skin then back up at me.

My hand quickly retreats as Lisa comes back around to refill our drinks. Chef Miller turns to hand her the plate and she accepts it before grabbing some glasses from the table. “Why don’t you come back into the kitchen with me and I’ll make somethin’ special for you,” the offer drips from his lips as sweet as whiskey caramel.

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks when I think about being in a room with him. Alone. “No that’s alright. These two have to go soon anyways,” I use the bullshit excuse, hoping he’ll buy it.

He nods, before putting his hands up and conceding. “Ok. Let Lisa know if you change your mind. She’ll bring you back,” he informs me.

He turns his attention back to the entire group. “Y’all have a good day. Hope to see you soon,” he smiles, turning to leave the secluded area.

Both Leo and Madi bid him a hushed goodbye before turning their attention toward me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead this second.

Madi squints her eyes at me, before shoving her empty plate out of the way. “I’m going to murder you,” she threatens me.

My head jerks back in shock. “What? Why?” I ask her.

She sighs, taking a sip of her margarita before slamming it back down on the table. “That was your birthday gift, you dumb cunt. You don’t think we know they don’t have fries. They don’t need fries when they have fine-ass Joel Miller. He was practically fucking drolling on your shoulder and you didn’t even notice,” she fumes.

Joel Miller, the hot single chef, is interested in me. I mean, I’m way out of his league. He’s like the working woman’s Timothée Chalamet. “What?” I ask in disbelief again.

Leo crosses his arms and leans comfortably back in his chair, having finished his meal. “Does she have to repeat herself or are you processing?” Leo picks my brain.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I lean forward a bit. “Processing, give me a moment,” I tell him, closing my eyes.

“You don’t have a moment. We’re ditching you while they turn over for dinner. And you’re going to go back into that kitchen and have a hot chef whip you up a meal, alone. Then you’re gonna have him whip you up, at home,” I hear Madi scheming.

Suddenly I feel hot, like my whole body just got stuck into an oven. “Madi! I’m not,” I start off shouting a bit at her before realizing we’re in a public space. I’m not even angry at her, I just feel overwhelmed. “I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I bear my soul to her, blinking away tears.

I haven’t had sex since the death of my parents and the cobwebs are tumbling back there. Knowing that my parents would never meet my future partner was a pain that felt soul-crushing. The feeling is just now starting to subside.

Leo reaches up and scratches his curly scalp. “I told you this was a bad idea,” he scolds Madi.

When I make eye contact with Madi again, her face is soft and warm. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I didn’t mean to push you too hard,” she apologizes profusely.

Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, I shake out the spiral of anxiety in my head. “It’s fine, can we change the subject?” I plead with the table.

Madi claps her hands in excitement. “Yes, okay!” she cheers. “You know what? Redo gift. Let’s go shopping,” she proposes.

Nodding, a smile starts to creep onto my face. Hours of mindless walking up and down Magnificent Mile is just what I need right now. “Now that, I can get down with,” I point at her with a grin.

Leo chuckles, standing up from the table. “I’ll see you two this weekend, I have some work to do. Happy birthday, Miggy. I’ll give them my card on my way out,” he bids us goodbye.

Madi waves at her ex-lover. “Bye Leo,” she flirts.

Giggling, I shake my head at her antics. Eventually, they’ll end up together. “You’re the best,” I thank him.

Leo turns around, shooting me a wink. “Anytime, darlin’,” he mocks Joel.

Madi’s hand slaps to her chest and she fakes retching as he walks away. “Something about him. When Joel does it, it makes my pussy quiver. But when he does it, I want to throw up,” she confesses.

Nodding, I finish the last drink before we can say goodbye to this restaurant for the day. “Ditto,” I sigh, grabbing my purse from the back of my chair.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

part 2

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grifff17 · 3 months ago

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Audiodrama Sunday 09/01/2024

Happy Audiodrama Sunday! Right now there are so many shows I follow that are releasing an episode every other week. It’s great! But it does mean I have a lot to write about. This week - Electromancy relisten, lots of werewolves, the arc finale of WBN, and more!

NEW SHOW ALERT Spout Lore’s spinoff Mall Brats is no longer Patreon exclusive! Mall Brats is a Blades in the Dark actual play about 3 kids who live in a giant shopping mall in a fantasy world and do crimes. This is a relisten for me, a year or so ago I subscribed to their patreon for a month and binged the whole thing. My only criticism is that the new version of the theme song isn’t as good as the old one.

I relistened to @electromancypodcast this week. I love this show, it feels so thorough in it’s approach to the setting and core conflict. Electromancy would adapt so well to a tv show, I can see so many of the scenes in my head. I don’t know how else to say it, the show feels like it was written like a tv show. Don’t get me wrong it’s great in an audio medium, but it would also be great as a tv show.

In @storiesfromylelmore this week poor Rion! He’s like Molly from Epithet Erased except he’s overworked by choice, and he also has to deal with werewolf racism. He didn’t even get a hug! The luck charm was really cool worldbuilding but also such an incredibly meaningful gesture from Keryth. Literally giving someone your luck because you care about them is so powerful.

@worldgonewrongpod also had an episode focused on werewolves this week. It has a very different interpretation of werewolves to Ylelmore, but both used them as an allegory for actual marginalized groups. Werewolves are so versatile.

Starwhal Odyssey released it’s second episode this week. It’s officially moved away from 5e, the new system seems cool. I loved the audio design for gamer space, and the gaming chair spelljammer helm is such an inspired choice.

I have a lot of distinct thoughts about the arc finale of @worldsbeyondpod. First off is that they have trains? That’s not something I expected from this setting. Immediately following that revelation was another party split, the rest of the party really is so irresponsible without Suvi. Stealing anything other than the coven wand was so dumb, Indri can curse the shit out of them for that. There was a complete tone shift in the last half hour of this season, at least Suvi isn’t going to be as upset this time.

We had part 5 of @midnightburgr’s Welcome to the Horizon. Everyone is high! I’m glad Verge is enjoying themselves, Verge and Deidre is fun. I guess Verge has a thing for humans, first Leif and now Deidre.

Case study: IREC-A59 released its third episode this week. It’s really good so far, it’s making me want to reread Project Hail Mary. I love that no one knows the captains name, that’s a great detail.

I listened to part 3 of Moonward, the @midstpodcast AP miniseries. For some reason I didn’t expect it to lean into horror, but given the setting, I shouldn't be surprised that it did.

We went to the Paris Olympics this week in Mission Rejected. That was a fun episode, I loved the image of two random Olympic athletes taking on a bunch of kidnappers and destroying them. Interesting to see the nation of Val Verde again. Mcgrath hitting up Athena for a gadget was great.

I didn't get through all the new shows that came out this week, there's still some more for next week. I also want to try to catch up on The Once and Future Nerd, I think I need to start from the beginning of book 2.

#audiodrama sunday #audiodrama #audio fiction #mall brats #electromancy #stories from ylelmore #world gone wrong #starwhal odyssey #worlds beyond number #midnight burger #case study irec a59 #midst podcast #mission rejected

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idesofrevolution · 2 years ago

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The Architect

It was supposed to be my magnum opus. Ravenswood- my last creation and my forever home. For years I had suffered and degraded myself in firms filled with peons who wouldn't know architectural integrity if it hit them on the nose, and when I finally finished that last project, it took all of fifteen minutes for me to type up my resignation and slap it on the boss' desk. I'd gotten the severance I'd worked nearly 31 years for, and had built up the name Drake Astramore to a prominent name in the business. Finally, I was free. Free to create unrestricted by the trivial boundaries set by those beneath me.

Work was slow in the beginning, my modern designs never seemed to convey the right mood or tone which I was seeking. Completely dejected, I resorted to corresponding with a peer of my own caliber who specialized in Eastlake-Tradition Victorian revival: James Lafreniere. The man was perhaps in his late 80's, far past his prime, but I did value his insight purely to help spur some sort of creative spark. He insisted on a large, rambling estate on a large plot just outside the city. He envisioned towers, stained glass, mahogany... some vacuous opulence that did not speak to my taste whatsoever. I was unconvinced, I saw Victorian architecture as tasteless fluff and ornamentation. Though, as old Mr. Lafreniere pushed, I suppose I did cave in quite a bit. His design was based on some sort of "sacred geometry" he'd studied while in Haiti some time ago. The man was a dog with a bone, frantically trying to persuade me into confirming his "spiritualist" idea for the house. The more he pressed, the less I firmly stood my ground. After all, I was happy with the layout he'd drafted and with my final additions and perfections to his concept, I was satisfied.

Thus, on that foggy winters day, a mere week or two since old Lafreniere was dead and buried, the house was nearing completion after nearly 13 months. I was coming in to do a final inspection, specifically confirming the four crystal chandeliers that were to be placed in the ballroom. Reynolds, the contractor I had hired, went radio silent two days prior, and I was eager to give him a modicum of advice on professionalism. As I pulled up to the antique wrought iron gates, I was perturbed to see them still chained tightly with a large padlock. I had no key, and had no response from Reynolds. Just as I prepared to go to the local hardware store to purchase a pair of bolt cutters, I saw a bulldozer slowly meandering up the gravel driveway through the dense fog. Perhaps Reynolds hadn't abandoned me as I'd thought. Exiting the car, I stood behind the iron gates as the machine came to a halt just on the other side. The door opened and instead of the middle aged potbelly which I had hired, a young man with a peculiar look in his eye exited the vehicle and sat on the steps of the machine.

"Who are you?" The young man glibly chided from his perch.

"What the hell do you mean who am I? I am the owner of this property. Who are you?" He sat idly staring me up and down, some flippant smirk forming slowly on his face. He hopped down, his massive rubber boots landing in a puddle, splashing muddy water up and down his clothes.

"Mr. Astramore, I was wondering if I'd ever get to meet you in person." He sauntered over to the gates, unlocking the heavy padlock as the gates creaked open on their own. I hadn't recalled requesting hydraulic automation on the main gate, but I assumed incorrectly that it was part of the system I'd purchased. "The name is Jimmy. Reynolds proved to be... unreliable on the job. So the company sent me as a replacement. I'm surprised you hadn't heard."

"I most certainly have not heard. I should like to have known about staffing changes. He has completely ignored me for days now." The man looked down, chuckling under his breath.

"Yeah. The guy just up and left one day. Never called the company or anything. Just poof. Vanished." Contractors. The bane of every architect. Unreliable thieves, the lot of them. This young man certainly mimicked that aura of untrustworthiness, but as the job was nearly complete, I preferred at the time to simply allow him to finish. "The house is ready for you, sir. Take this, please let me know if you need anything from me, I'll be finishing the landscaping for the raingardens today." He pulled off a two-way radio from his belt, handing it to me. I could smell the putrid scent of hard labor wafting from him as I snatched the muddy radio from his sweaty hands.

"That will be fine, James." I huffed as I got back into my car, beginning the two minute trek up the driveway toward the house. As I passed him, I could see the filthy worker smile at me. There was something off about his presence, though at the time I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Again, I believe it was his eyes. So familiar, as if I'd known them myself for a time. As I left him behind in the dust of the gravel, I promised myself I would launch a complaint against these unprofessional ruffians the moment I could.

After weaving past the carefully planned and restored bayous, the white tower proudly peeked from above the tree canopy. The woodlands cleared and before me stood the massive edifice that was Ravenswood. It was primed white, awaiting the final paint job in dark greens and black which I had demanded. Yet another setback I was not looking forward to enduring. The elaborate trim graced the balconies and verandas which were perfectly calculated to receive the ideal amount of sun and shade during the hot Louisiana summers. Each glazed window was placed to maximize natural light in the house's otherwise dark confines. Perhaps Lafreniere was right- this was my masterpiece.

I put the car in park, and exited the vehicle. I stood and marveled at the house. On paper, it was grand and idyllic. In person, however, it took on a very different aura. Dark clouds and fog seemed to hang around the house, giving it a distinct sense of foreboding which I had not intended. Knowing funds were scarce as is, it was too late to change anything. This was to be my forever home, shortcomings and perfections alike. Pressing against the front doors, I entered the main hall, then aglow from the stained glass window and edison-bulb-illuminated chandelier. Lafreniere assured me that the house would be sufficiently lit, and that no dark corners would find their way into it's winding halls. I was disappointed beyond words to see that it was not the case.

The house seemed to breathe with a cold draft that whipped around the walls, just strong enough to notice, but not enough to disturb. While it was certainly built to my specifications, Ravenswood took on an identity of it's own before my eyes as it stood before me. Grumbling under my breath, I began my inspection.

Room by room, I went about with my clipboard and checklist. Bronze lightplates, check. Mahogany waiscotting, check. Brass and crystal chandeliers, check. From the library to the conservatory, the drawing room to the gallery; each room was just as I designed it, yet it seemed inundated with some indescribable weight which I had anticipated from the beginning. My modern, airy, open concept home which I had originally envisioned slowly simmered into flames before my own eyes. It was magnificent, yes. The house dripped character and ethereal essence from every nook and cranny. But was it an Astramore home? Certainly not.

Looking back, I should have left. I should have tossed the clipboard onto the dark herringbone parquet floors and stomped back to my car- back to the safety and comfort of my car. I should have driven away like a bat out of hell from this place and never returned. Yet, in my arrogance, I believed I could salvage it somehow. Thus, it was in that moment, as I was checking the finials on the grand staircase that I heard it. Groaning. Ever so quiet, yet echoing throughout the cavernous halls. I looked above me, my eyes tracking the noise further and further up the staircase onto the third floor. I assumed that it was emanating from the observatory in the main tower, though how I could have possibly known that I still do not know. I ascended the steps, slowly at first, toward the sound. Every creaking floorboard perturbed me, a new construction shouldn't behave as if it had stood for over a hundred years. This growing rage at the destruction of my vision translated directly into a quickening pace. My body seemingly did the work for me as I climbed faster, eventually skipping steps on my way to the high observatory.

Blinded by anger, I could not see the various shapes and figures which I had blown past on the landings, the dark shadows waiting in the corners and cornices. Every ounce of my being was focused entirely on releasing this pent up aggression, built within myself over decades, on whatever pathetic creature dared to whine within my walls. Arriving on the final landing, I burst through the door with the last of my strength.

The shutters in the observatory were drawn and shut, the unfinished plaster and floorboards were illuminated only by the dull light from the stairwell behind me. There, in the center of the room and crouched like a devious little gremlin was some degenerate young man. Tattoos sprawled across his lean body, and his greasy mop of hair obscured his line of sight. The man shielded his face from the gleaming light, as if burned by it's glow. His pants and shoes were weathered and well worn; scuffed, torn, and stained from what I can only assume was some ill-begotten lifestyle of antisocial youths.

"Get out!" I shouted at the boy, as he cowered on the sawdust-laden floor. His hand slowly retracted from his face, revealing what he was trying to conceal. Upon his inked face were two fully black eyes, which seemed to suck the remnants of light straight out of the room. They were empty, cold, and devious. This thing was not of this world, it was not of God, it was not of nature. I stood there, frozen in place as he stood up, easily a height of over 6 feet tall. My hairs stood on end, as he smiled down at me. I turned to run, but as I did, I was confronted by the grinning visage of Jimmy.

"Going somewhere, Astramore?" His eyes were black as night, just like the creature behind me. I couldn't speak, any word I tried to mutter was caught in my throat and merely exited as gasping utterances. Two icy cold hands slowly wrapped around my gut. I could only let out a whimper as I was sharply pulled back into the room as Jimmy leaned against the doorframe, his arms and ankles crossed comfortably as if nothing was out of place.

Tossed down onto the ground, my extremities pulled in every which direction as if bound by invisible leather straps. My clothes were ripped from my body, leaving me vulnerable and cold in the nude. The thing circled me like a predator observing it's prey. I thrashed against my constraints, spitting insults and threats with the last of my energy. I should have realized the intent of their misdeeds then and there. Blinded yet again, and for the last time by my own rage, I could not see... they were exhausting me. My strength depleted, my nerves shot, I was a mere shell of myself. This was their moment.

The thing stood above me, straddling my bony torso, as he slowly lowered himself atop me. With his cold fingers, nails black and skin dirty, he gripped the bottom of my chin, prying my mouth open. With a momentum far beyond the order of nature, his hand plowed directly into my open maw. It seemed to contract in on itself, as if he were not solid, but rather in a plasmic state of matter. As it squirmed deeper into my throat, the second hand fed itself into the orifice with ease. It felt as if I were drowning, yet could still breathe. It flowed like slime inside of me, pooling into my expanding stomach. I could hear myself gurgling and choking on him as his head squeezed into my mouth, the miasmic odor of unwashed manscent wafting from his acrid form. He slithered his entire form within me, my gut protruding more and more with his writhing shape beneath my stretching skin. As his lower half finally slid past my tongue, I could feel the rough texture of his denim pants scratch against my esophagus, I could taste the sweaty leather of his musky battered sneakers brush on my tongue until the last of the rubber sole slipped into my mouth; disappearing into my body.

Within me, I could feel him breathing. Expanding and contracting from beneath my skin. I could just barely cock my head down enough to see my grotesquely inflated midsection wriggling and pulsating. There was no pain, only tightness and fullness inside. From the doorway, Jimmy had lowered his coveralls down to his boots, pulled his rancid jockstrap to his knees, and was pleasuring himself with manic fervor. Whatever was happening to me was nothing short of pornography for him, he savored every moment with bated breath. Though I had no time to dwell on such displays of vulgarity and immorality. As quickly as the thing had entered me, it began to spread.

I cocked my head toward my arm, as I watched the protruding outline of the thing's hand slowly snake towards my own from under my skin. I could see it's added mass inflate my musculature as it slid effortlessly past my elbow and up my forearm. It's fingers pushed into mine like a hollow latex glove. His stature considerably larger than mine, I could see my entire arm stretch outward, and his own muscles falling into place within mine. In just a few seconds, my arm had grown, large biceps and colorful tattoos seeping up through my dermis until it was unrecognizable. I observed it in horror as I felt my second arm endure the same process, though my gaze was thoroughly cemented at the strong, youthful, virile arm which once was mine.

My legs soon followed suit, my thighs ballooning outward with firm slabs of muscle as the outline of the thing's massive feet barreled down toward my own. Hairs sprung up like weeds across my inflating calves and quadriceps, until I could feel the slimy pressure of his foot sliding into mine. My body again stretched to accommodate his frame, feeling the soles of my massive sweating feet slide across the hardwood floor until it was finally fully in place. My toes wriggled against my will. A stirring in my groin, and my worn hands pawing at my privates signaled his insertion there as well. Every slick sweaty pump of my member seemed to thrust his into mine further and further. It was quickly engorged, thick and dripping with pre as my balls swelled with his thick, unholy seed. The foreskin tightened around my tip, slick and dripping, and there was then only one part of me left that was untouched.

I could feel him pressing up my throat. It's head firmly making it's way up my esophagus, his face protruding from beneath my sweating skin. There was no fight left in me, all I could do was close my eyes and pray that oblivion was not as empty as I had assumed. With the very last of my strength giving way, there was no resistance as it's head shot up into my skull. Everything went dark almost immediately, there was no light, and an atonal ringing in my ears distorted the squelching and cracking noises I could faintly hear as it adjusted my face atop his. Feeling his plasmic form beneath mine, integrating itself into every possible crevice, nook, and space; it was maddening. I felt myself begin to drift away... disconnected from my corporeal tether. The last thing I could see before I finally wasted away into the unknown was my blurred reflection in the mirror, a face no longer my own, merely a shadow of who I once was. I bitterly accepted this fate. I let him have that sweaty, smelly, vulgar body... it was all his. The lights went out, and all was silent.

----

New Orleans Tribune, December 20th, 2022:

Local Architect Declared Dead After Week Long Search Efforts

Recent attempts to locate Drake Astramore (69) of Thibodaux have been called off by New Orleans authorities after a week of searching through the architect's sprawling estate. Neighbors to the gated complex reported faint screams coming from within the mansion, even from a 1/4 mile away, which led investigators to deliver a search warrant to the residence.

Upon arrival, authorities were met with the groundskeeper of the premises, James Lafreniere (25), who explained Astramore had disappeared during a routine inspection of the mansion, which was at the time nearing completion:

"He was only in there for a few hours. I wish I knew what could have happened to the guy. But I am so glad that his son has decided to take up the torch on the house. It wasn't all for nothing, then."

While Astramore had no family to speak of, the few who knew him personally described him as "difficult" and "degrading," often going to far lengths to place himself above others. In fact, a number of former coworkers at architecture firm Guillory, Darensbourg, & Combs alluded to mysterious dealings with an unidentified elderly man during the design phase of his home, described as having a "dark energy" about him. While there is no evidence to support foul play at this time, investigators have not ruled out furthering their analysis into these claims.

As for Ravenswood Estate, it has now fallen into the hands of the missing architect's son, Drake Astramore II (27). A self-proclaimed "spiritualist," the young man plans to give tours of the sprawling mansion dedicated to the mysterious and unusual process of design of Ravenswood. Joining with his partner in business and in life, James Lafreniere, the duo intend on opening a bed and breakfast type model for the horror inclined.

"I didn't know my pop all that much, he never really acknowledged me or anything. But I'm happy to show the world what he created. This place is special, it was designed to be special. There's an magnetism here that gathers together the essences of many, many of the dearly departed. If you don't believe me, come take a look. I'm happy to show you around. I guarantee you'll leave a completely changed person."

#male possession #male transformation #ghost possession #badass transformation #architect #original #gay transformation #gay possession #body horror #musky #punkification #male tf

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im-not-buying-it-ether · 1 month ago

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First meetings between the Chief and the Drake

Tim honesty doesn’t know why he has to work with The Chief (or whatever the hell he’s called back in good ol’ Fawcett)

Why does an entire pseudo family of magic users even have a tech guy??

“They have useful information on the group were dealing with Tim,” rang-out Oracle’s heavily disguised voice. Ready for further hide her identity behind the screen to his left for when the expected Marvel finds his way to the Bat-cave. “With all the magic issues we already have to power through without outside assistance I think its nice we have more to rely on than just Zatanna or Jason whenever they’re in town.”

Tim fidgeted in the Bat-chair, swishing the tea Alfred made for him earlier in his mug. “I know but the whole family is a deck of wild cards, how do six people capable of taking on Superman on an off day just pop out of the woodwork with no history other than ancient the kind Babs?” Tim took another once over of the cave security cams and aerial footage of the manor’s surroundings, “We only found out about the rest of the family two weeks ago because of that shitty Luthor-Sivanna team up, Cap has a whole team hidden away in his city or that Rock place he mentions once in a blue moon and he never mentioned there being more of him.” Tim flew his empty hand up in the air, “and now Bruce is pulling his hair out trying to research what his now a minor pantheon of ‘heroes that are probably weird ass new gods’ and is going grey-er than normal finding nothing!”

At the end of that mini rant Tim could feel the disinterested, patient look from behind Barbra’s monitor, “Got the bats out of the cave now?”

“Is that some kind of family saying?” Questioned a voice from the nearby medical platform, The Chief had bypassed cave security at some point unknown to Tim.

Good god Bruce needs some anti magic runes or something…

“Oh!” The man startled when Tim head snapped to his direction, hovering in front of the door of a containment room or when they need to hold someone infected with anything from new fear gas to a zombie virus.

Why is he just floating there? Shouldn’t he be by the elevator or the Zetta tube if he just got here?

“Sorry, I’m uh- heh,” he hovered down closer to the Bat-computer, one hand rubbing his neck nervously and the other in mock surrender. “Cap said I needed to pop by to pass on what we know on Dionysian cult practices and what the stuff you guys found exactly does?”

There was a tense moment, one normally shared between vaguely Batman like heroes and vaguely Superman like heroes. Where one looks the other over studying for the slightest hint of evidence to their theories in everything about them, their form, the choice in costume design, the body language, to even the slightest hair out of place. All done in a fraction of a second to not force the subject of the inspection into trying to hide anything after the fact, all while the other acts so painfully normal and human that it throws every speculation out the window. Too nervous in the face of a mortal man to be anything approximating an immortal being or god, but proven to be far too strong to be anything but.

His proclaimed older brother wiped the floor with a Superman infected by red kryptonite. He broke the man of steels arm and bruised multiple ribs subduing him so that he wouldn’t knock down another building. The Captain had been able to catch up to and outrun Wally when a bomb got strapped to his wrist and disarmed it while still flying faster than the man could run. None of the Marvels have documented limits in all the battles they’ve joined the league on, short of the minor annoyance of a magical attack. One of them is the dictator of a small country. They pop in and out of existence for superhero duties on a whim. Good god Bruce why did you have to rub this specific paranoia onto me?

“I’m going to hazard a guess and say our magic friend has arrived?” Oracles distorted voice snapped him from staring the lanky hero down, just now noticing the outstretched hand waiting to shake his. Turning back to the monitor Tim replied a curt, “He’s here.” Ignoring the childishly dejected look of the possibly thousands years old or freshly spawned being of magic to his right.

“So,” the hero in grey clapped his hands, “I can just upload the data we’ve got on them to the Bat-Computer here and just head out for you guys to do your, uh, Bat…thing?”

“That would be be-”

“Do you have the files physically on hand, on a drive, or on another device we’ll have to link to the computer?” Oracle interjected, startling both men.

“Oh, uh, well…” he began flexing and un-flexing his fingers, “I can literally kinda just, well I can basically upload everything I know in my head to what you’ve got here?” Probably realizing how odd even that sounded he rushed to clarify, “I-I’m basically like a magic technopath or whatever it's called, I can talk to machines and control them to a degree. Not like flinging keyboards with my mind or talking politics with a toaster levels of talk but I can just y’know,” he gestured between his head and the many screens, “Take what's up here that you need and put it in here?”

The man gave a unsure and lopsided grin, as if hearing how near absurd it sounded to have the ability to mix two polar systems together so seamlessly to be as simple as a data transfer between a computer and a human maybe human mind with magic. A force that has famously never worked well with modern machines or technology without major repercussions or those machines fusing with the person trying to mix them, the closest they’ve gotten that doesn’t instantly mutate the user or straight up explode is when Cyborg connects to New Gods Tech and even then its a gamble of if he can do anything with it or if it will infect him with some kind of virus.

He’s nervous mentioning it but he has an air of confidence like hes done this before, but also as if its common knowledge for him but something to withhold from Red Robin. Tim wonders if this is a universal power for his “family” but replays how he phrased it in his mind, he only said “I” and not “we”, it’s most likely a power specific to him or only he’s been able to master.

#From the time before Bat-swap #Draft posting #Always wanted to do the marvel/bats crossover fics. Just my kinda vibe #definitly not finished but its been way too long to go the og route on this #whatever that was #old tags ->#the kids are really nervous around the bats #understandable because this is a seasoned crime fighter you have action figures of and probably went as for Halloween #and you still have recess everyday an munch on fruit snacks for lunch #probably worse when theres also horror stories from other heroes and villians (one being your brother) preaching abt their paranoia #the contingency plans are known of #and the marvels are shooketh

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ichijager13 · 1 year ago

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A Trip To the Bookstore

Fandom: Attack on titan (Shingeki no Kyojin)

Rating: General Audience.

CW: really none, just me getting my Dad!Eren scenarios and exploiting my baby fever.

Family fluff, Fater-daughter moment

Word Count: 770 words.

Summary:

For her fifth birthday, Eren takes his daughter Nina to the bookstore.

Standing in front of the bookstore’s door, Eren looked down at his daughter and asked, “Are you ready for this adventure, little one?” Unable to contain her excitement, Nina nodded vigorously. “Then let’s go,” the young father cheered, pushing the door open.

For her fifth birthday, Eren promised the young girl to take her to a bookstore nearby after work. The previous night, before going to bed, the two of them made a deal. They agreed that she could choose up to four books and that they would stop by the neighborhood’s bakery to buy a birthday cake.

Nina’s big, jade green eyes, which she inherited from her father, wandered around the place. Taken aback by how big the store was, she scanned the multiple floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books of all sizes and colors. A few minutes later, she glanced at her father, silently asking with her round, emerald-colored eye for permission to let go of his hand and go explore every corner of that magical place. An encouraging smile brightened Eren’s features as he slowly released the small and delicate hand he had been holding since they left home.

The little girl’s steps were hesitant at first, but when she noticed there were other kids around, exploring the store, her attitude slowly changed. She started picking up books and flipping the pages.

From time to time, she would turn to check whether her father was tagging along. Each time their eyes met, she would flash him a wide smile with her tongue poking from behind the missing tooth she had lost a week ago.

“Daddy,” Nina called for her father minutes later and pointed out one of the shelves out of her reach. “Can I have dis one, pwease?”

“Which one, darling?” he asked, studying the books lined on that shelf.

“Da one with snow.”

“Nice choice. I’ve read those when I was your age,” he commented, picking up the first book of the Tomten series. “How about we check if they have the whole collection before we leave?” The little brunette hummed in response, visibly happy. “Wanna look for more books?”

Nina nodded as her father pushed the strands of brown-colored hair that escaped from under her hat and partially covered her eyes. He then watched her go back to her book quest.

“Did you find anything?” he asked when he noticed she had been staring at the same shelf for several minutes.

She nodded before bending to grab a copy of The Giving Tree and handing it to him.

“Another nice pick. That’s my girl,” he approved, going through the pages of one of his childhood reads.

Eren knew that this experience was going to be unique. However, he didn’t expect it to unlock so many memories from his childhood.

“Thewe’s anotha’ one too. It has a gween dwagon with blue hownes hiding in a pocket.” She tugged at the hem of his dark gray duffle coat.

“Whatever my princess wants,” he said, gently squishing her rosy cheeks. “Where did you see it?”

“Thewe.” She designated a shelf behind him.

He grabbed the book and showed it to her. “This one?”

“Mhm!” Nina responded, giddily smiling.

“That’s all?”

She nodded once again before asking, “Can we stay a little longa’, pwease Daddy, pwease?” She looked up at him with big, round, and pleading eyes.

“Of course, my dear. I love this place so much. I have so many lovely memories here.” Noticing her puzzled expression, he explained dreamily, “Oma and I used to come here a lot with Uncle Armin. It was our favorite place,” he voiced, embracing the whole place with his loving gaze. He could’ve sworn he could hear his mother’s voice chatting with the owner as Armin and he were looking for their next reads. “And I wanted my little princess to discover it as well. Do you like it?”

“I love it, Daddy! Can we come back soon?”

“Of course, we can visit whenever you want.”

“Thank you.”

Nina spent the next thirty minutes happily wandering around and inspecting every nook and cranny of the store.

Once they asked for the remaining books from the series, they headed to the cashier.

“Is it your birthday, sweety?" the checkout girl inquired when Eren asked for a birthday card. She offered Nina a bunny shaped balloon when Nina bobbed her head.

Later that day, both dressed in their pajamas, Eren and Nina ate their cake slices while going through the pages of the books they bought that day.

Nina listened to her father tell her funny stories about the place and the old owner.

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 1 year ago

Text

Promises Six: The Patron

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Chapter warnings: language, violence, (temporary) character death A/N: You're all fucking fabulous. 💖Aiming for another update next week. Wish me luck.

Only two thrones waited in the main tent. The king’s servants rushed to move a third chair to a place of honor beside them, layering it in swaths of silk and velvet designed to hang over the canvas walls, like they could veil the differences in quality and size with a few curtains.

They needn’t have bothered.

Lord Morpheus refused to sit as his sibling lounged on their impromptu throne with the grace of a cat and a shark’s smile. Familial enmity crackled around the two like a storm, and Desire basked in the attention. The King of Meiren hovered, clearly aching to take his seat, but anxious should he disrespect the guest who would not.

Quite a tableau. If only the bard could paint.

She saw her patrons settled before she went to study the drama unfolding around the two Endless and the king who would dare consider himself an equal. Even the most delusional suitors kept their distance now. Alluring as Desire may be, they did not hem in the waves of power as their siblings did. The bard recognized the overwhelming presence of an Endless even when they tried to shutter the worst of the tidal crush when walking among mortals. She’d felt it with Death. She felt it with Dream. But Desire didn’t even pretend to care for the humans’ comfort.

Every scent was sweeter in their presence, every whisper of taste carried on the smoke of the outdoor cooking fires a draw to addiction. The company looked finer. Everyone murmured about the heat and struggled to meet each others’ gaze as they shifted in their tight clothes, fanning away glittering drops of sweat that drew the eye down, and down, and down to the curious places hidden from view by cloth and lace.

Plenty of mistakes would be made that evening. More than the usual wild carousing inspired by fantasies of bloodlust in the woods. She’d already advised her friends and supporters to avoid as much of the spectacle as possible. To keep a hair pin in their pocket to prick themselves and their loved ones back to good sense if needed. She pointed out the horse troughs and water buckets, and reasoned the king couldn’t complain if a few members of his court felt poorly and left before dark after such a long day.

She couldn’t follow them back, of course. Her curiosity forbid it, and she wanted to be near if a spark caught that might ignite the entire kingdom.

Desire made no effort to hide their conversation from the fragmented assembly. Most were too busy wrestling with their influence to take notice, but the bard knew Desire’s family, and – what was far more important – she knew herself and her desires too well to be so easily swayed.

“I heard you’d been offered a bride, and I simply couldn’t help myself.” Desire treated the seat more as a kind of low couch, spreading over the arms in a pose to draw the eye to their long limbs and fiery eyes. Their red lips looked bloodstained as they grinned. “And a mortal at that. What could have possessed you?”

The king stuttered to join in the conversation, his eyes so dilated even the bard could see the dark hollows swallowing his mind. “I-I offered, your… grace? A bargain for the King of Dream’s aid some years ago. He has not chosen, but there are still many days…”

“Hmmm.” Desire dismissed him effortlessly, not even bestowing a wave. Their eyes never turned to his face, and the king finally slumped into his seat, unseen and unheard by his betters. The bard had never seen him so cowed, and gods knew she’d put in the work.

“An offer only.” The Dream King’s hands flexed into fists. Although the bard had thought he couldn’t grow any paler, his knuckles looked deathly white against his pallid skin. “I have accepted no one, and no one in this host has so inspired my attention or affection.”

Somehow, Desire’s smile grew wider, and as they let their head fall back over the arm of their throne, they chuckled through their teeth. “I wonder, big brother. Really, I do. Ah, well.” They straightened, spinning with unnatural fluidity to properly face their kin. “At least I didn’t miss the hunt.”

The close air within the tent fostered the unnatural heat. It stuck to the roof of the bard’s mouth, and she licked her teeth to scrape it off her tongue. The warmth ached where it dripped into her chest, clenched and hungry for every good and wicked thing she could not or should not possess. Her dead mother’s hand to hold. A good cup of tea in a quiet place beside a trusted friend. Wind in her hair, songs in her throat, and someone –

She left the tent.

Out of sight, the waves of Desire’s power didn’t strike with such force, and the bard walked with her hands on her hips, taking deep breaths of fresh air to clear the scent of longing.

A breeze cut through the clearing where the king’s court set camp, and she imagined it cleaned the stench of foiled passions as it combed through her hair, that it brushed aside the bitter shards of unshaped dreams from her mind.

Sometimes she forgot how much harder intrigue and politics were to wash off than dust from the road. It worked into crevices and scars, surprising her with old filth every time she thought herself free of it.

Her time with the Endless would stain her, surely.

Her mother’s acquaintance with Death left more than a mere mark. If she wasn’t so proud of her own legacy and legend, she’d say it defined her. If she had any sense, she would’ve stayed with the dragon and sung him pretty songs until the Endless had fucked off back to the realm he governed. When Desire appeared, she should’ve turned her mare around, packed up her things at the castle, and left a note of apology. But she hadn’t. Couldn’t, honestly. She wanted to know. She wanted to see. She wanted to witness history – or add a few lines of her own.

Really, what was the worst that could happen? She had manners and a frustrating inability to die, so the chances of lasting consequences for her recklessness were slim.

Gradually, her hands slipped off her hips, and she felt she could breathe easily again. The world wore familiar shades, and no one’s power but her own threaded through her blood. Half finished stories and snarls of old songs half forgotten filled her head. The air tasted of dirt and smelled of sweat. All good and human things.

Strolling through the camp, she found an old fortune reader laying out her tools on a red blanket. The woman chose her spot well, a patch of shade that would only grow as the sun set, just beside the smaller tents where the noble families rested.

The bard nodded in passing, but a wizened hand seized her wrist, bringing her up short. Stumbling to a halt, she blinked down, bemused, but only a little surprised. The woman didn’t have many other customers passing at this hour, when most were resting or preparing for the hunt, and plenty of folk stopped the bard in the street.

All her cards, bones, and runes sat in tidy piles and dishes, untouched, but the reader glowered at the bard with a fortune on her lips.

“You have already caught your doom’s eye.”

Smiling, twisting her wrist in a vain attempt to thwart the old woman’s grasp, the bard said, “You must be mistaken, mother. I have no doom.”

Ridged nails sank into the bard’s palm as the fortune teller squeezed.

“Just because you are deathless does not make you fateless, girl.”

A presence too much like the ones she’d left in the king’s tent coursed like deep roots through the old woman’s words. They tapped unseen waters and sprouted a gravity beyond the woman’s ken. Her glare cut across realms, and the bard’s hair stood on end.

“You are become an ache that preys on the heart. A yearning made flesh. And your doom will tear you from the world if you continue this way in the Garden of Forking Paths. Heed my warning.”

A shadow cut across the sun, and the bard looked up, expecting a thunderhead. That sort of fortune ought to be followed by forked lightning and rolling thunder. But as the light returned and the shape passed through the sun’s glare, it roared, and the bard cursed, ripping away from the fortune teller even as the old woman released her grip.

“Fucking hells!”

She tore through the camp, running before she thought to move, knocking guards and bemused nobles out of her way as they stared up at the great, winged beast above. A dragon. A dragon had come to the king’s hunt.

And the bard knew just which idiot dragon it was, too.

She recognized his scaled bulk. His petulant, flaming rumble.

The absolute twat.

What did he think he was doing?

Time rushed against her, precious seconds slipping beneath the soles of her boots as she found her horse, fumbled on the bridle, and swung onto her back. By that time, knights and hunters had stirred themselves. The bard cantered between men-at-arms rushing to their mounts and young archers half-armed and eager.

She flew by the entrance to the king’s tent where the two Endless stood observing the chaos like it was so very far below them. Fair enough. But at the moment, the bard couldn’t care less. Kingdoms and fates be damned. Her patron was going to get himself killed. She barely felt their gazes wash over her, burning like molten gold, sharper than diamond stars. After a life of dragon’s fire and executioners’ blades, they did not make her tremble like a sensible mortal.

Out of the camp, into the woods, galloping along the path in the direction the dragon wheeled. A goodly field stood some distance away, and it was the nearest place her patron might land without risking his wings on the treetops. So she rode, aware the crash of arms and hooves behind her was growing.

She hadn’t stopped for a saddle. Her thighs clenched tight around her mare’s heaving ribs, every bit of energy and intent straining forward, trying to yank the distant break in the trees closer with sheer force of will. The woods pressed too dark and thick, and she couldn’t tell if the crush of noise in her head came from her heart or the dragon ahead.

The ride lasted half an age, but she cleared the tunnel of trees at last, and blinded by sun, she heard rather than saw the huntsfolk who’d gathered from where they kept the caged beasts and dogs. A dragon was much better quarry. As the glare faded, she wheeled her mare between the humans and the fiery beast. They stumbled, clutching weapons and glaring as she swung down, facing the thing they’d planned to capture.

Hands raised, seeking to draw his eye, she marched towards the dark gouges in the earth where her patron landed.

“Glistiven!”

He turned from the lancer he’d been snapping at, flaring his nostrils wide to smell as well as see her. The wind carried her scent across the field, and he lowered his head, creeping low to be on her level.

She hissed at the hunters as she passed, “He’ll burn you all if you scratch him. Your lives aren’t worth the coin the king will forget to pay you.”

A few, convinced, moved back into the trees. The rest at least backed away, cautious, ready to see if the beast would incinerate the bard before they pushed their luck.

Glistiven stood taller than an oak, and his wings could shade a whole village. He looked a fine prize with his glittering scales – and the gold trapped between them – but he’d not grown to such a size for his tame love of humanity.

He’d burned the bard to ash three times before his curiosity won over his bad temper.

A month of stories, songs, and negotiations convinced him that it may be easier to let the local villages sell him their sheep. It was easier than dealing with unwanted visits from every bounty hunter and monster slayer in the kingdom. Every year, she carried his order down from the mountain, and the farmers let the chosen sheep run wild into the dragon’s territory.

He ought to be in the mountain now.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, marching through the tall grass and struggling to look dignified. As if she didn’t have enough to worry over. Two Endless, a fool of a king, and families looking to her for protection she was wholly unqualified to promise. Just because she was old didn’t mean she was powerful. “You great, flaming… Why are you here?”

Though still many yards away, his great sigh sent ripples through her clothes. “You have not finished your story.”

Hells above and heavens below. The petulance in his voice. She noted the remaining huntsfolk shift even further away from the corner of her eye, disturbed by the voice like a landslide in a wildfire. Crackling, and rumbling, and doubtless inhuman. A voice they all felt rattle in their bones. It reminded them that though they be hunters, they might yet be hunted. Many of their kind fell to dragons’ appetites. This one may yet have them.

The bard dropped her hands, forcing her way through the swaying weeds. She’d give her patron a piece of her mind and sort out this mess. He ought to fly home, but if he didn’t, she could tell him where to hide, where to sleep away from the hunter’s hooks and the castle’s ballistas.

A sharp twang cut the words she went to speak from the air.

Pain struck. It pierced through and out, scattering thought and breaking breath. A strange weight sat in her flesh, and as her mouth fell open, desperate for air that would not come, her hands rose to find the wound, the hurt, and the thing that made it. An arrow tip sliced her fingers. A bolt from some great weapon meant to take down boar and the scaled wyverns that sometimes came this far north.

It had taken her heart out of her body. She could feel it with her bleeding fingertips, fluttering around the wooden shaft, half-pinned by broken ribs.

She fell. To her knees. To the grass. To the waiting arms of Death. Her blood pooled ruby over her hands, her body shuddering and jolting with the determination of a broken clock still trying to tick.

The ground shook with Glistiven’s rage, and the heat of his fire curled over her like a blanket as the last heat of waning life bubbled onto the grass.

Here you are again.

A gentle touch settled over the crown of her head. Cold, but soft. A familiar companion she hated to bother. The bard relaxed into the entity’s hold as she lost all sense and feeling, swaddled in the dark.

What have you gone and done to yourself this time?

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x female reader #dream of the endless x reader #dark!dream of the endless #fic: promises #fantasy!au #morpheus x oc

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crazyunsexycool · 1 year ago

Text

The love we gave away

Chapter 5

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut!, oral (f receiving), sad reader, bit of asshole Ransom

A/N: so here is the next chapter. I’m sorry I guess 😬

Series Masterlist

Song that Faith and reader sing along to

The sun was out providing warmth and another bright day. A light breeze kept you cool enough as you sat on the balcony on the last floor of the hotel you were staying at. It was the perfect place to relax, take in the view and enjoy the free time and inspiration as you sketched new designs. You were waiting for Faith to show up for brunch in your room but you also knew she was a bit on the drunk side when you last saw her.

It was another half hour before Faith finally showed up followed by hotel staff carting food. You had them set everything up out on the balcony and tipped them as they left. Faith groaned as she walked out to the balcony with her huge sunglasses and loungewear on. She plopped herself on one of the chairs and grabbed a strawberry.

“Did you have a good night last night?” You tease.

“Did you?”

“I did, I slept great.”

“With Ransom as your body pillow of course.” Faith smiles.

“Nope. All by myself.”

“Say just kidding right now.” Faith takes off her sunglasses so that you’ll look her in the eyes. “But you were all over each other yesterday. And don’t think I forgot about you telling me everything about your meetup in New York.” She says as she pours herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah well, we actually met up for the first time a few weeks ago.”

“You’re playing with me.”

“Nope.”

“How did it happen? Why did you guys meet up?” She leans forward and places all of her attention on you once she sees your brilliant smile.

You grabbed your phone and searched for something before turning it toward Faith. She studied the photo for a moment before it clicked. Faith screamed as she grabbed your phone and stared at the picture of the twins you had pulled up.

“How? I mean look at them. They’re beautiful. When did this happen? You have to tell me everything.”

So you did. Over brunch you explained everything that had happened from the moment the twins showed up in your life until now.

“Wow. I mean that’s amazing. So when can I meet my niece and nephew?”

“We can get together when you get back from your honeymoon.”

“Perfect. What about you and Ransom?”

“What about us?” You ask as you pop a grape into your mouth.

“Don’t play dumb it doesn’t suit you. It’s obvious you guys still have feelings for each other. Just the way you looked at each other.” She sighs.

“Nothings going to happen. I mean he has a girlfriend.”

Faith perks up at your statement and then she grins. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“They broke up. Why do you think he’s here alone?”

“I don’t know, I thought she’d fly in today or tomorrow.”

“This is perfect. You’ll be back together before the wedding is over. I can feel it.” Faith does a little happy dance in her seat.

“Well I’m not getting my hopes up. Now let’s go try on your dress.”

You both get up and head to the separate room the dress was being held in. Faith gets into the dress with a little bit of your help and you make notes to add a few finishing touches.

The day went by quicker than you would have liked. The rehearsal dinner was fantastic and now everyone was meeting in the lobby to catch a party bus to go out to a club or two. It wasn’t really your thing but considering you were with people you knew and Faith badgering you to go you got dressed.

In the lobby you were one of the last people down. You wore a gold sequin bodycon mini dress, matching gold stilettos, your hair was down and your makeup was simple with bold lipstick. As your heels clicked against the tiled floor you saw Ransom turn his head in your direction. His jaw went slack as he took you in. He took his time looking at the way the dress hugged your curves. When he finally made eye contact with you his eyes were dark and full of want.

Ransom was dressed in dark brown almost black dress pants and a short sleeve button up with an orange, black, cream and white design on it. He looked good and pulled off the look effortlessly.

“You look stunning.” He says as you get closer to him.

“Well you look quite handsome yourself.”

Heels click behind you as Faith and Scott appear. She was dressed in white and he was dressed in black. Everyone cheers for them as they lead the group outside. Ransom immediately sticks to your side. His hand on your lower back as he guides you to the party bus which could probably be seen from space with all the lights it had on.

Music is already blasting as you get in. Faith and a few of the bridesmaids are already dancing. You on the other hand decide to sit and Ransom follows your lead. His arm drapes behind you.

“Let’s take a picture.” You whisper in his ear and he nods. “I haven’t told the twins that we ran into each other.”

You pull your phone from the clutch you brought with you and Ransom leans in and waits for you to snap a few. Butterflies erupt in your belly as you look at them. You remember what Faith said to you about him being single now. When you look up she’s giving you a wicked grin and a thumbs up. With a quick message you send the kids a picture.

Abigail: You went together? 😱😱

Theodore: make good choices.

You explain to them that you didn’t know he would be there and that you would in fact be making good choices.

****

For the next three hours you go through the same routine. The bus comes to a stop at a club and everyone gets out, excited for the party to continue inside. The group skips the line and are escorted straight to the VIP section. It doesn’t take long for everyone to have drinks in their hands, yourself included. Soon after, Faith and the bridesmaids leave for the dance floor, dragging you along with them.

It doesn’t escape your notice how Ransom hangs out by the area that gives the best view to the dance floor. His eyes rarely leave you as you move around and sway your hips.

Eventually a slower song comes on at the club you’re currently in. It happens to be a song that you and Faith love.

🎶“You know what I'm thinkin', see it in your eyes.

You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry.

You're scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night.”🎶

You sing to each other at the top of your lungs as you sway. Faith looks over your shoulder and smiles before Scott steals her away. But before you can go, hands find their way to your hips. You’re ready to elbow whoever is grabbing you.

“It’s just me, Thimble.” Ransom’s breath tickles your ear as he pulls you into his chest.

Since he doesn’t make a move to leave you begin to dance. And if you decide to grind against him and he doesn’t complain, so what? You’re both single and you know there’s still something between you. For the first time in your life you’re going to take a chance on something. No more carefully calculated plans, just a carefree night and whatever happens, happens.

🎶“The distance and the time between us

It’ll never change my mind ’cause

Baby, I would die for you

Baby, I would die for you, yeah.” 🎶

Ransom sings just for you to hear as he moves with you. You turn your head so that you can look at him and he gives you a nod towards the exit. It’s more than a silent request to leave early but you still nod your head. Ransom smiles, like he did when he was younger. With no ulterior motive other than he’s genuinely happy, you can tell by the way his eyes crinkle. You grab his hand and let him lead you out. Through the crowd you see Faith and smile before sending a wink in her direction. Last thing you see is her jumping up and down in celebration.

The ride back to the hotel is quick and the elevator ride up to your hotel suite is even faster. But it didn’t feel like it at times. None of it mattered though once the door to your suite closed and Ransom pressed you up against it. It had been the first time in a long time that you’ve kissed someone and even longer since you’ve kissed him.

A small moan escapes you as you feel Ransom’s hands everywhere. He’s possessive with his kiss, his tongue dominating yours. It’s obvious you both have more experience now. Ransom moves from your lips to your neck. He finds that spot that makes you weak while he moves a knee between your thighs. The pressure he applies is enough to get you hot and bothered.

“Ransom, please.” You say as your hands find their way to his hair and you tug.

He lifts you and carries you over to the bed without his lips leaving your skin. That all familiar ache that settled between your legs grows. Ransom lays you down softly on the bed. He gives you a quick kiss before standing back up and getting undressed until he’s only in his black boxer briefs.

“Do you want this?” He asks as he moves to hover over you.

“Yes.”

“Good because I don’t think I’d be able to leave now.” He says before he continues to kiss your chest, pulling down the top of your dress and immediately taking a nipple into his mouth.

His hand palms and kneads your other breast before alternating his attention. You whimper and writhe beneath him as your hands explore the expanse of his much more muscular frame. The experience was new but familiar. Both of you had matured and learned new things. Yet it felt like everything was the same. You’re brought back to the moment when you feel Ransom’s hands on your hips as he pushes up the skirt of your dress up. He groans as he observes you.

“Dirty girl,” he says when he realizes you weren’t wearing any underwear. Your breath hitches when his fingers travel through your folds. “No panties and you’re fucking soaked.”

“Panty lines would have ruined the look.” You shrug.

“Well you did look good. But now I’m going to ruin you. And I’m going to start by doing what I’ve thought about doing for the longest time.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to taste you.” He says as he settles between your legs.

Ransom starts by kissing your thighs until he reaches your center and then he dives right in. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard and up until this moment you never realized how much you needed Ransom to eat you out. You can’t help the need you feel to push your pussy more into his face but it only seems to spur him on. He groans as he tastes you and you pull on his hair. His tongue moves from your clit to your weeping entrance and back before he adds a finger and pushes in. Ransom’s pace is quick and suddenly he adds a second finger while he continues to flick his tongue over your clit. Your orgasm is rapidly approaching and you feel like you’re on fire.

“Don’t stop. Please.” You say breathlessly. “Gonna come.”

“I can feel it, pretty girl. Doing so good. Be a good girl and come for me.” He commands and you do as you’re told.

Your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You have your eyes closed and your head thrown back in pleasure as you chant his name over and over. When you finally get a hold of your senses you realize Ransom is hovering over you again. This time he’s just watching you. A smile graces his lips and his eyes are full of that sweet and loving gaze he always held for you. It’s almost too much and not enough at the same time.

“You look so beautiful like this.” He murmurs against your lips. With the kiss you taste yourself in his tongue and you gasp.

You do your best to push him so that he’s laying on his back but he doesn’t budge and he chuckles when you roll your eyes. Finally he moves and watches you get rid of the dress which became more of a belt with how it was only around your waist. Vulnerability hits you suddenly. He hasn’t seen you since you were 17. Your body has definitely changed since then and since having the twins. All you want to do is cover yourself up. Ransom notices the sudden change in your demeanor and moves towards the edge of the bed.

“Hey, none of that.”

“I can’t help it. It’s been a while.” You confess.

“So what. C’mere.” He pulls you to stand between his legs. He immediately starts kissing your belly and the stretch marks that remained even after all this time. “You’re so beautiful, don’t hide from me. You gave me the most beautiful gift ever with this body.”

Ransom pulls you back to bed and he settles between your legs again. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and you move your hand between both your bodies. His breath gets caught in his throat as you palm his hard cock through his underwear before pulling him out.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he ruts into your hand.

Ransom pulls away from you and you move with him. You have the intention of returning the favor. But he pushes you gently back against the bed and then grabs his pants. You give him a confused look until you see that he’s pulling a condom out. Ransom puts it on and is hovering over you again.

You look him straight in the eyes as you line him up and he pushes in. He moans with you as he bottoms out in one quick thrust.

“Still so fucking good. Best pussy I’ve ever had.” He mutters as he starts to move.

“Ran.”

“Tell me pretty girl. What do you want?”

“Faster, please.” You say. Your nails dig into his biceps as you hold on to him.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Ransom pulls back until he’s kneeling between your legs. His hands are on your hips as he pulls you with him and his eyes never leave yours. Neither of you can break eye contact as he moves faster just like you asked. He hits your g-spot every time and the second orgasm of the night hits you quickly. You say his name over and over again until he’s kissing you.

His hands move from your hips and travel up your body until he’s holding yours over your head. You intertwine your fingers with his and the moment shifts from just getting pleasure to something more. His thrusts slow but are still hard.

“I missed you.” You say, a tear escapes you.

“I missed you too, baby.”

Neither can deny that the attraction is still there. That you still seek each other out for more than talking about the twins. Things between you were left unresolved but as you lay there underneath him you can’t ignore the emotions that bubble under the surface. The possible meaning of having sex after being apart for so long.

“Ransom. S’good.” You mutter between kisses.

“You gonna give me one more?” He looks down at you to find your beautifully blissed out face. “I can feel how tight you are. I know you can give me one more.”

One of his hands leaves yours and he shifts until he can start circling your clit. The added stimulation has your jaw slacking. You mewl and move your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Come with me. Please baby.” You whisper as he hides his face in your neck.

You shudder as Ransom thrusts faster and harder. He grunts against your skin and you know you’re both close to the edge. Your legs wrap around him as his hips stutter with a few more thrusts and you feel yourself being pulled over the edge with him. You can see stars and feel Ransom’s weight on you and nothing has felt better than this in a long time. After a minute of catching his breath Ransom reluctantly pulls out of you softly and lays down beside you.

“That was amazing.” You murmur.

“You’re welcome.”

“Shut up.” You lightly slap his chest as you chuckle.

You feel the bed shift and look to the side to see Ransom get up and go to the bathroom. When he comes back he has a damp hand towel in hand.

“I’m gonna clean you up thimble.”

You hiss at the over sensitivity as he cleans up the mess between your thighs but you thank him anyway. Then he pulls back the covers and lets you get comfortable before sliding in next you and pulling you into his chest. You both stayed awake, the conversation was minimal but Ransom keeps you close. Soon enough he’s kissing you again and you find yourselves wrapped up in each other. Over and over again.

It’s mid morning when you finally stir. There’s a hushed conversation happening as you stretch out in bed and an obvious empty spot next to you. However Ransom saunters in wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He says as he leans down and gives you a quick kiss on the lips. “Come on, get up. I ordered us some breakfast.”

You stretch again and this time the covers slide down and reveal your chest to him. He does nothing to hide his ogling.

“Maybe we can stay in bed for a few extra minutes.” He says as he moves to lay back down.

You laugh as you cover yourself up again by wrapping the sheets around you.

“Fine,” Ransom pouts. “But hurry up because the water is getting cold.”

“The water?”

Ransom smirks as he leads you to the huge ensuite bathroom where he had prepared a bath for you. There were rose petals floating on the water and the scent of rose and bergamot permeated in the air. The breakfast that Ransom had ordered was set up for easy reach from the bathtub and it was all bite size versions of your favorite foods.

Ransom gets in first and you drop your sheet and he holds a hand out to help you in. Once you’re settled and relaxed Ransom hands you a cup of coffee and he takes his own. You talk about the wedding and work. By the time the water was cold, breakfast was gone and you had to go finish the last few details on Faith’s dress.

“Are you free tonight?” Ransom asks as he stands at the door.

“I should be.”

“Good, I’ll pick you up at five-thirty.” He says before giving you a kiss and leaving before you can protest.

****

“You got dicked down.” Faith states as she walks in on you finishing up the last adjustment her dress needed.

You look over your shoulder and roll your eyes.

“I saw him walking out of your suite and toward the elevator. I knew you’d get back together.”

“Woah,” you raise a hand to stop her. “We had sex… multiple times. But we didn’t talk about getting back together.”

“What are you talking about? It’s inevitable. Your kids are back in your lives, you’re both single and successful. Nothing is getting in the way of you being together. If you don’t end up together right away, you will eventually.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Faith nods as she looks over the dress one more time. “I’m the bride, I'm never wrong.”

“Why are you here? Didn’t you say you had a whole spa day planned?”

“I booked some things for you too.”

“But I’m adding-“

“The dress is already perfect. The only way it can be more perfect is by me wearing it, which I will, tomorrow. Now let’s go relax.” She pulls your hand as you put away the last of your sewing kit.

“Fine, let’s go.”

“Wow.” Ransom mutters as you open the door. “Stunning.”

You were wearing a simple navy sundress with small white flowers on it and sandals. Your hair was up and away from your face and you kept your makeup simple. Ransom wore a simple short sleeve button up shirt and dark jeans. He pulled you by the waist and kissed you.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm.” You hummed wide eyed and slightly breathless. The things this man could do to you and you’d happily let him.

****

Ransom had led you to the docks where there was a wooden runabout boat waiting for you. He got in first and offered you his hand so that you could get in before you were whisked away.

You were kept on your toes and pleasantly surprised when the boat was docked at a private beach. Ransom led you further away from the dock and toward a picnic on the beach. It was just in time to watch the sunset.

“This is amazing.”

“Anything for you, thimble.” Ransom kissed your cheek once you settled next to him.

“I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”

“What, was me climbing up to your dorm room to deliver the foods you were craving during your pregnancy not romantic enough?”

You smile at the memory of that. He did get in trouble more than once for sneaking out of the school grounds in the middle of the night but he never let you down. Those were some of your favorite memories. He would sneak into your room and sit with you and talked to the twins while you ate.

“It was very romantic, you’re right.”

“I know.” He smirked as he handed you a flute of champagne. “I know you don’t really drink but I thought we should celebrate.”

“And what are we celebrating?”

You look at him over the flute of champagne as you take a sip. His ocean blue eyes don’t leave your face for even a moment as he thinks over what he’s going to say. Ransom drinks his champagne in one go.

“Reuniting, meeting the twins, getting a chance to know them.” He starts rambling before he looks down at you. “This.” He says as his lips slot over your perfectly.

The champagne glasses are long forgotten on the picnic blanket as you move to straddle him. Ransom’s hands are lost under the skirt of your dress and you don’t waste any time in unbuttoning his shirt and then undoing his belt. He groans against your lips as you pull him out of his pants and begin to slowly move your hand up and down his hardened length.

“You’re so fucking wet baby.” He mutters as he runs his fingers through your folds.

“I want you.”

“Then take what you want.” Ransom says as he holds your panties to the side.

You line yourself up with his cock and sink down. He’s big so you have to go slow. Once he’s buried to the hilt you stay like that for a moment. Ransom kisses and nips all along your neck before pulling down your dress and taking a nipple into his mouth. As his tongue plays with your pebbled peak you begin to move. A slow roll of your hips here and there until Ransom can’t take it anymore. His hand comes down on your ass.

“Stop fucking teasing, and I know you liked me smacking your ass. I can feel the way this pretty pussy is gripping me.” He says with a growl. “Now move.”

You do as he says and you begin to bounce on his cock. Ransom brings his hands to your hips and he helps you move until he flips you so that he can hover over you. His hips move faster and harder against you. His and your moans mix with the waves lapping up against the shore and the breeze moving the tree branches. Your legs wrap around his waist as you try to pull him closer to you. That fire in your belly that only Ransom seems to ignite is spreading like wildfire and you know you’re close.

“Fuck, right there.” you moan as he hits your g-spot. “Don’t stop.”

“Feel so fucking good.” He grunts into your ear. “Come for me baby. I want to feel you come around my cock.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he begins to circle your clit. With a plea of his name you come undone.

“That’s my fucking girl.” He says as he comes inside you. His lust blown eyes never leaving yours.

The two of you stay there and catch your breath. You can’t help but laugh a bit.

“What’s so funny?” He asks as he pulls back to look down at you. You reach up and fix the few pieces of his hair that have fallen into his face.

“No matter how long it’s been, we still act like horny teenagers. At the first chance of us being alone we start fucking.”

He chuckles before capturing your lips with his.

“I can’t help it that you’re irresistible.”

“Mmhmm.” You say as he slowly pulls out and fixes your dress before tucking himself back in. “This is the best picnic I’ve ever been to.”

“I should hope so.”

The morning of the wedding was going to be chaotic. You could feel it as you practically kicked Ransom out of your suite. After taking a quick shower and getting your hair and makeup done you rush to Faith’s room with all the dresses in hand.

Just as you expected everyone was running around like crazy. You got there just in time to help one of the bridesmaids not rip her dress and then sat in the corner to fix the issue. At some point Faith had had enough of the bickering and chatting and demanded that everyone leave the room except for you. And the photographer of course.

With some music on and some champagne for the bride you helped her into her dress. In the mirror you stood just beside her. She grabbed your hand and looked at you through the mirror, a scene that the photographer captured. It was a sweet moment between friends. She looked beautiful.

“This could be you.” She says after a moment. As she gently smoothed her dress out.

“Oh really? Is our wedding still on then? I have something else I can wear if I’m replacing Scott.”

You laugh but Faith just raises an eyebrow.

“I’m being serious. This could be you and Ran. You were made for each other.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Just his dick?” Faith quips.

You roll your eyes but step away to check your makeup one more time.

“All I’m saying is give yourself a chance, ok? You’re reunited and both of you are single. I mean you spent the last two nights fucking.”

“Ok, can we just stop this conversation right now. It’s your wedding day. All attention should be on you.”

“I’m the bride and I decide what I want to talk about. But you’re right I’m going to be walking down the aisle any second now.”

“Ms. Carter I think we should do some shots of you with your family seeing you for the first time.” The photographer speaks up from the corner of the room.

“I’ll leave you to it and I’ll see you down there.”

****

You had made it down to the lobby of the hotel where the rest of the guests were milling about until the ceremony started. There were at least three hundred guests in attendance. A small wedding, in these social circles. Every once in a while someone would stop to talk to you about wanting you to design something for them or asking how you’ve been. You gave quick answers because you desperately wanted to find Ransom.

As you move closer to the entrance where the ceremony is going to be held you spot him. His hair is styled back and he looks so handsome in his tailored tuxedo. The smile on your face falls when a beautiful tall brunette leans in and kisses him. The issue wasn’t that she kissed him but that he kissed her back.

It was as if the wind had been knocked out of you. You turned on your heel and walked to the nearest bathroom. Taking a few deep breaths you tried not to cry. The last few days had been wonderful but just the thought that he had used you to cheat on who you assumed was his girlfriend made you sick to your stomach. Your phone went off and you grabbed it from your clutch to see a message that you were needed by the mother of the bride. You took some tissue and dabbed the corners of your eyes in order to not cry and ruin your makeup and headed back upstairs.

****

The ceremony went off without a hitch. The only issue you had personally was your seat. The chairs had been arranged in a semicircle and unfortunately for you, Ransom and his girlfriend were right in your line of sight on the groom’s side. You had noticed that he kept scanning the seats, probably trying to find you but you do your best to stay hidden from him.

Thunderous applause snaps you out of your thoughts as the husband and wife kiss for the first time. Everyone stands as Faith and Scott start walking down the aisle. Faith’s eyes find you immediately and she gives you the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. Tears sting your eyes as she starts walking back hand in hand with Scott and then you’re met with ocean blue eyes.

You square your shoulders and your eyes move from him to his date and back. His jaw tightens and you watch as he shakes her off of him. It doesn’t matter though, you turn your attention to getting out of there and up to the bridal suite to help Faith change into her reception dress.

Fortunately you were seated at the family table so you were next to Faith’s parents. Her mother kept you distracted enough to not look around the room in search of Ransom. It wasn’t until Faith and Scott made their grand entrance and had their first dance as husband and wife that you made eye contact again. He was sitting at a table on the opposite side of the dance floor. His date sat next to him dreamily watching the couple dance.

For the next few hours you had to make sure you stayed at a safe distance. You didn’t need to hear his shitty excuse. This wasn’t the time or place for it. He tried to get closer though, on multiple occasions but you made sure to walk away before he could reach you. At some point Scott whisks you away to the dance floor.

“He’s an idiot.” Scott says.

“Who?”

“Ransom. If it makes you feel better he really did break up with her before the wedding. She just showed up today.”

“It really doesn’t but thanks I guess.” You murmur.

“You know when we were in college he was always at parties, getting drunk and doing everything a guy does at a frat house.”

“That’s thrilling. Why are you telling me this?”

“Just making small talk.” He gives you a little smile when he sees you glaring up at him. “One night though got very drunk. It was in May at the end of the semester. He got completely wasted, that’s when he confided in me that he had left the love of his life behind. He felt horrible about it.”

You tensed because the only important date toward the end of May was the twins’ birthday.

“Every year like clockwork he would do the same thing so eventually I started looking out for him. It didn’t click until the yacht that it was you. I should have known because when I brought Fai to meet him they already knew each other. But I’ve never seen Ransom smile like that in my life. I know there must be something else going on and I don’t need to know it but just talk to him. The girl that’s here, she’s nice and all but it’s obvious she’s not you.”

“Are you really being a wingman for him right now?” You ask as you look around the room. Those piercing blue eyes seem to be everywhere you look.

“No, I’m being one for you. I’ve never seen you smile like you have this weekend either. I can’t imagine what happened between you two in high school but isn’t getting past that worth being happy again?”

“That’s the thing Scott, you don’t know what happened.” You say as the song ends and you leave him standing in the middle of the dancefloor.

You try to walk out as fast as you can. All of the day’s emotions were starting to suffocate you and you needed a moment away from it all. The hotel has a lovely garden that overlooks the ocean. With the reception going on it happens to be empty so you take a seat at a bench facing the beach. After a few minutes of silence and you thinking things through you hear rustling behind you and you dread to look over your shoulder only to find Ransom.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day. What is your problem?”

“My problem?” You look at him incredulously. “After the last few days we spent together you show up with another woman on your arm. How am I supposed to feel?”

“She means nothing to me. Is that what this is about? Are you jealous?” He smirks.

“I’m not jealous.” You snap. “I feel used and lied too. Did you really break up with her before the wedding or did you lie about that just so that you could get into someone’s pants?”

Ransom rolls his eyes which only serves to piss you off more. His flippant attitude is not helping the situation and only adding on to your thoughts that he was only using you to have a good time this weekend. If it were true that would be just as devastating as when he walked away without reason.

“I was going to ask you to let me stay in your room when she got here, I just didn’t get a chance to talk to you before the wedding.”

“Didn’t seem like you were trying to get away from her when you shoved your tongue down her throat. Did you think about how I’d feel at all by seeing you with her like that? The answer’s probably not.”

Ok so maybe you were a bit jealous. But in all honesty even if you hadn’t spent most of your time in bed with Ransom for the last few days you would have still been jealous.

You could see the mask that Ransom had methodically crafted to protect himself after years of abuse and fights, slip into place. He’d never just shut down like that on you and whatever was going to happen next wasn’t going to be good. The muscle in his jaw ticked and his hands were balled into fists at his side.

“We aren’t kids anymore, we don't need to be in a relationship to sleep together. What did you think was going to happen? That we’d ride into the sunset together? Don’t be so fucking naive. It was just sex, it didn’t mean anything.”

Every word cut deeper but you didn’t allow yourself to cry. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction to see your tears.

“I thought you’d have a bit of respect for the mother of your children.”

“What children? The ones you gave away?” He sneers.

It would have hurt less if he would have slapped you across the face. You stared at him with wide eyes, hurt and disbelief written all over your face. Neither of you say anything and you will yourself to turn around and walk away from him. You send Wanda a text and ask her to have the plane ready to leave tonight, you also miss the way Ransom’s shoulders deflate as he watches you walk away.

****

You had packed up everything quickly and had it taken to the plane while you checked out. The wedding was still going on but you texted Hope and let her know you left. Although you were sure no one would miss you. In the lobby of the hotel you check out and head to the restroom before you head to the plane.

As you give yourself a once over in the mirror one of the stall doors open and you come face to face with someone else you didn’t want to see. She gets closer to the sinks and looks up making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N.” She states excitedly and then groans. “I’m sorry it’s just I’m such a huge fan. I’m Bertie Wilcox.”

“Bertie?”

“It’s short for Alberta. I used to hate it as a kid.” She smiles. “It was actually my boyfriend who gave me the nickname. I’m not sure if I should even call him that. I don’t know where we stand right now.” She rambles as she washes her hands and you turn to look at her. “I guess we’re in a bit of a rough patch. But I hope things work out.”

You give a small hum to acknowledge that you’ve been listening.

“I’m so sorry I don’t tend to ramble about my personal life with someone I just met. This is so embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“The wedding dress was so lovely. I didn’t know you had a wedding line.”

She’s being nice which means she most likely doesn’t know about you and Ransom. It also makes it difficult for you to hate her. What’s happened between you and Ransom really isn’t her fault and she is the one in a relationship with him. You have no right to have any hateful feelings towards her but you still can’t help it. If she hadn’t shown up then tonight would have gone completely different.

“I don’t.”

“Oh. What a shame. You’d definitely take over that industry.” She smiles at you and you give her a half hearted smile back.

“I should go. I have a plane to catch.”

“It was nice meeting you.” She says as she watches you walk away.

She waits a minute before she heads back to the reception. Bertie finds Ransom at the bar and takes the seat beside him. He doesn’t look at her or acknowledges her presence and Bertie can only sigh. For the rest of the night he’s more distant than before. When they do make it upstairs to the suite Ransom had, she takes the bed and he takes the couch.

By the time you get back to New York your eyes sting from having spent most of the time on the flight crying. How did such a good weekend go bad so quickly?

It was still fairly early in the day and the only thing that made you smile was the pictures of Theodore and Abigail for their first day of school. You made sure to have one of them printed so that you could keep it on your desk at work. With a quick text a promise to do something that weekend and wish them a great first day.

Wanda meets you at your apartment and immediately hugs you. You weren’t sure if it’s what you needed because you started crying again. Fortunately Wanda didn’t ask any questions and you only said that you and Ransom had a disagreement but she knew it was more than that.

“I cleared the next two days for you.” She says as she helps you unpack.

“That’s not necessary. I’d much rather work.”

“Then work on new designs but you won’t be meeting any new clients this week.” Wanda crosses her arms over her chest.

You open your mouth to say something but then decide against it. Wanda takes it as a win and gives you one more hug before inviting you over to her place to a dinner party she’s hosting at the end of the week.

After she leaves you take a quick shower and decide to take a nap. At this point you’d been awake for way too long. As you settle into bed your phone rings. You see Abigail’s smiling face and you quickly answer it. She immediately goes into details about her first day and how different schools are in New York than they are in the smaller town in Ohio she grew up in. Theodore adds his own commentary as his face pops into frame. You smile and ask a few questions here and there. After a few minutes they let you go and the need to sleep is stronger. Maybe if you take a nap everything will be better by the time you wake up.

Ch. 6

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