#absolute unit of a lady. I love her

[sp0o0kylights]

"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 

Not in the way he used to. 

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  

Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 

Emphasis on ‘if.’ 

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 

So said Carol, anyway. 

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue. 

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 

All he wanted to do was go home. 

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 

The world stopped. 

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 

Just as the entire cafeteria was. 

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 

With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 

He was over it. 

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped. 

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 

 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently? 

He just felt tired. 

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 

They were ignored. 

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 

Steve didn’t even look back. 

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 

Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 

 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 

Then immediately; 

“Actually yes, but--”  

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 

“Tommy did what?” 

Steve was promptly ignored. 

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 

“So here I am. Apologizing.” 

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 

 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him. 

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 

[themultifandomgal]

Could you do an established relationship jay halstead x petite reader? She’s in the fbi, has a PhD, and is quite young. (She’s like 25-27) She’s shy and pretty innocent. Jay introduces her to the unit. When they meet her they don’t see how she’s an fbi agent. Then the fbi takes over a scene and she’s a total badass. Jay is proud and he’s like that’s my girl.

Jay Halstead- My Girl

I absolutely loved this idea! I had so much fun writing this one. I hope you enjoy!

No one knew about Jays girlfriend, in fact everyone thought he was single. So when Jay arrived at Molly’s with a petite woman on his arm, everyone was shocked to say the least, even more so when Will gave her a hug and the pair looked like they have known each other for a while. The noise of conversation and clinking of glasses filled the air as they made their way to a table in the corner. It was a Friday night, a rare occasion for Jay and his colleagues to be out all together.

As they sat down, Erin, his partner, was the first of Jays coworkers to greet the couple

“Im so happy you could come. Who is this lovely lady, Jay?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Jay smiled proudly and replied, "This is YN. My girlfriend. She works for the FBI." YN, who was naturally shy and reserved, gave a polite nod but said nothing. Erin's eyes widened in surprise, she looks over to Jay shock written all over her face

“Oh wow you’ve kept her quiet Jay” Jay just shrugs in response.

Through the evening the drinks flow, but YN continues to stay quiet, just observing the space around her

“So FBI huh? You seem too quiet and innocent for that line of work”

YN simply smiled and shrugged, used to this reaction from people who underestimated her based on her demeanor. She was well aware of her ability to blend in and appear unassuming, a skill that served her well in her line of work. She knew that her quiet nature was one of her greatest assets, allowing her observer others and gather crucial information for her cases. As the night went on YN and Jay finished up the evening and headed off back home.

YN sat in her car, staring at the building in front of her. It’s been 2 weeks since she met Jays coworkers and now she’s been asked to help the intelligence unit with a tough case. She steps out of the car and strode confidently towards the entrance, her gun hidden securely in its holster.

As she entered the building, she was greeted by the sight of her boyfriend Jay and his boss Voight, both standing in the lobby, waiting for her

“YN thank you so much for coming” Voight says holding out his hand. Immediately YN takes his hand in hers, shaking his hand

“No problem, happy to help”

“Please follow us” Voight takes YN to the bullpen where the rest of their coworkers are standing around a bulletin board

“You all remember YN” Jay says first

“She’s joining us on this case” voight tells everyone who greets the girl

“So what do you know so far?” YN says getting straight into the case

“We know that Doms father owned a huge farm down state. When she died Dom inherited 30 million” Antonio hands over the case file to YN who takes a look at all the information at hand “he took out 10 million 2 days before he went missing” YN looks up at the team

“Did anyone actually see him though?”

“Taking the money out?” Jay asks

“At all”

“What are you saying?” Erin frowns

“I dont think he’s missing. Did you get the autopsy report on the mum?”

“No, she died of natural causes” Antonio crosses his arms

“Are you positive on that? I want to see an autopsy report somethings just not adding up”

unwavering, her determination driving her to catch the criminal at any cost.

YN got what she needed, the autopsy report showed that Doms mum did not die of natural causes, in fact she was poisoned slowly over time. YNs theory of dom not being missing made him their first suspect.

As they neared the location where Dom was believed to be hiding, YN's instincts kicked in. With a nod to Jay, she signaled that it was time to make their move.

They burst into the building, guns drawn. YN's training kicked in

“On the floor, now!” YN shouts pointing her gun at Dom “keep your hands where we can see them”

In a matter of moments, Dom was apprehended. Jay and the rest of his team watch the girl they once thought of as quiet become this confident woman. Jay watches on, feeling a sense of pride and love. That’s his girl who he’s extremely proud of.

[hoodedjelly]

my Jenny, Tuck, Brad, Shelden, and Vega older designs ^__^

i'm watching mlaatr, still not done, i think i got like 10 more eps (and if i'm being transparent i skipped around eps... i just wanted to see vega...). And i'm absolutely loving the show!!!! i love these characters a lot, didn't like Shelden at first i'm going to be honest, #1 Shelden hater for a bit there. but he chilled out in season two and i started to ship breldon with that too so now i just love him so much.

more about my personal headcanons:

Jenny: - I am under the belief that she is transgender. Jenny was made genderless, so her deciding to be a girl was strictly her choice and i believe that makes her trans. (She's also a lesbian) - she did grow a bit, im not gonna explain how idc really i just liked her being a taller lady :-) - she has A LOT of different cute outfits and hair styles, honestly too much to draw. she never transforms back into her base show outfit when crime fighting, she just fights in her cute summer dress she don't care. - her and vega are dating grrgrgrrrr - when vega is in rule she makes it so there is complete free access between earth and cluster prime for citizens in both places. - I say that cause i think when jenny is older she moves in with vega, technically living in cluster prime but visits earth like everyday. And brad/shelby/tucker/wakeman visit cluster prime - Jenny also hangs out with the nicktoons unite gang, but i deffo feel like its just that secondary friend group that you don't talk to with for months. when you talk again its the same goofiness as before - i think danny calls for her help when he needs it (also manny) Tuck: - he is still a little shit but we love him - adhd boy - questioning cis (he/him) - he got into robotics/stem and builds little silly things - with that, he gets help from Shelby - pretty much just a silly teen, he's on the internet a lot and has "cringe" interests - but idk he's having fun and being silly and finding himself (those interests is stuff like sonic and among us) Shelden(Shelby) - honestly kinda nervous about ppl thoughts on my Shelden, idk it makes so much sense in my brain - hits you with the transfem beam (she/they) Pansexual (she just wants anyone type of vibe) - I think when jenny is visiting vega often that leaves Shelby and Brad hanging out alone a lot. which they don't mind honestly, they are actually good friends! - but during that they just get closer and start catching feelings. Shelby eventually lets go of her feelings about jenny and realizes they were a real jerk and weirdo to her. brad helps them through that and eventually her realizing she's trans. blah blah they in love and kiss at some point. - Shelby is also a furry lmaooo her fursona is a cat.

Brad: - bisexual cis man (he/him) - Still his old brad self if i'm being honest. - totally forgot to say i think all 3 of them go off to college together (even though jenny doesn't have to i feel like she would prob want to just for the experience, but tell me if you think differently i'm still unsure) - i really don't know what else to say sorry brad! he's literally just as silly as ever man. he's just also gay - i will say here i feel it takes a lot longer for shelby and brad to start dating then jenny and vega. they got that slow burn kinda shit going on, since a lot of that is shelby being confused about her feelings. and jenny and vega just hit it off right away if im being honest, very high school sweethearts. - (also i think shelby makes brad make a fursona to match hers, so brad got a dog fursona)

Vega: - Lesbian cis (she/her) - That ending of her just ruling cluster prime was just so crazy to me cause like, aint she like 16? - i think she has a lot of stressed nights and fearing she's not doing the right thing for her people, and jenny tries to help as much she can - that is why jenny visits so much, she wants to help her. - very much got those nights were she accidently falls asleep at her desk, jenny finding her and giving her a blanket and a kiss goodnight - it's not like she's unhappy, she is actually very very passionate about her work and wants to NOT be like her mom - and yeah she deffo goes to robo therapy for the stuff with her mom. - i think it's a conflict where vega is scared her mom is gonna come back and jenny has to reassure her that if she does they'll get rid of her for good.

imma be honest a lot of my hcs are pretty half-baked and random things, im sure im going to think of more stuff in the future but that will be in different posts.

[xoxoangelllcake]

“Let go”

warnings: soft smut,dom Caitlyn Kiramman, dom Vi, dom Maddie Nolan, sub Y/N, use of strap on, Cait, Vi and Maddie giving,f receiving, vaginal penetration, foursome, and lesbian sex.

The night was electric with the hum of the city as the neon lights flickered in the streets below. The crisp air of Piltover was laced with excitement—and more intimate desires. Y/N had always been drawn to the rush of being an enforcer. Working alongside Vi and Caitlyn, she found herself tangled in a world filled with adrenaline, danger, and a hint of promise lingering just beneath the surface.

Tonight, however, the trio was off-duty and the weight of their roles melted away as they gathered in Caitlyn's elegantly decorated apartment hidden high above the bustling streets. Soft music floated through the room, setting an alluring atmosphere. Y/N throbbed with anticipation as she looked at the two women who had quickly filled both her professional and personal life with fervor.

Vi stood with her arms crossed, a mischievous grin lighting up her tattooed face. "Ready for some fun, ladies?" she quipped, her playful smirk igniting a spark in Y/N's core. 

Caitlyn, with her poised demeanor and captivating beauty, stepped closer, but not before casting a knowing glance at Y/N. "I think we’re going to indulge in something a little more… intense tonight," she purred, arching an eyebrow as she approached, her fingers trailing lightly along Y/N's arm.

Y/N flushed, her heart racing as her pulse quickened. She loved the way Vi and Caitlyn paired their bold personalities with moments of soft tenderness, especially when it came to her. Maddie had joined the two, her commanding presence adding to the heat in the room. As a fellow enforcer, she understood passion but brought an edge that left Y/N in awe.

"Y/N," Maddie drawled, her voice low and sultry, drawing Y/N's attention. "You’ve always followed our lead, but tonight, let's flip the script." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she produced a strap-on from behind her back, its sleek design shimmering under the ambient lights.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt both exhilarated and submissive—a mix that made her pulse race faster. "Are you sure?" she stammered, her cheeks rosy under their scrutiny.

Caitlyn knelt before her, tender but firm. "You’re always so strong, Y/N. Give yourself permission to let go. Let us take care of you." The gentle tug at Y/N’s heartstrings was enough to push her forward.

In a flurry of movement, the three women surrounded her, each brushing hands along her arms, tracing the curves of her body, giving her the warmth she craved. Vi pressed forward, capturing Y/N’s lips with hers, the kiss igniting fireworks in her gut. The kiss was fiery and deep, filled with tongues tangling—the taste of Vi pushing Y/N over the edge.

Caitlyn and Maddie joined their energies, kissing along Y/N’s shoulders, leaving trails of warmth that made her shiver. "Such pretty skin," Caitlyn whispered, her fingertips tracing Y/N’s collarbone, sending shivers down her spine.

Maddie, with her strategic precision, helped Y/N out of her clothing, revealing her soft curves and delicate features. "Absolutely stunning," Maddie said with an appreciative grin, her voice low and commanding. 

Vi grinned, eyes glinting with lust as she wrapped an arm around Y/N, pulling her close once more. "We can’t wait, can we? Let’s give her what she deserves."

As Maddie slid the strap-on into place, Y/N's body tingled with anticipation. She looked at the three women who surrounded her—each powerful in their own right, yet united in this moment of intimate exploration.

The teasing began slowly, with gentle touches and soft encouragement. Y/N surrendered to their desires, lost in the beauty of each kiss and caress, allowing herself to drift. Vi was the first to take her time, her movements deliberate as she teased Y/N just to the edge of pleasure before pulling away, letting the anticipation build further.

Caitlyn soon joined, her hands gliding along Y/N’s shapely curves, her voice a soothing balm, whispering sweet nothings amidst moans and encouragement. "You’re doing so well, Y/N," she breathed, eyes sparkling with mischief as she watched Y/N squirm under their attention.

Maddie finally stood behind Y/N, securing her arms, bringing her close. "Are you ready for us?" she murmured, voice heavy with promise. Y/N nodded, breath hitching in excitement and lust.

“One, two…” Maddie counted down before plunging in deep, eliciting a cry from Y/N as her body instinctively arched in response. "Let go, babe," Maddie coaxed, thrusting with precision as their rhythm synchronized, each movement intensifying the bliss coursing through Y/N.

Vi and Caitlyn took turns kissing her deeply, each touch igniting hotter embers of desire. The room thrummed with shared breaths, the world outside forgotten beneath a haze of pleasure.

With every thrust, every caress, Y/N surrendered completely, losing herself in the passion that poured over her. Each woman shared conspiratorial glances filled with heat, knowing that this moment was not just theirs but a shared experience crafted among four souls entwined in passion.

Together, they built a crescendo—each pulling Y/N to heights she had only dreamed of as they whispered sweet encouragements, stitching deeper connections into their bond.

As Y/N teetered on that precipice of release, she could feel the overwhelming desire in the air, threading through their shared bodies, pushing her further. Sparks ignited with each motion until finally, the wheels of ecstasy clicked into place.

“Let go with us, Y/N,” Vi urged, fingers entwined in Y/N’s hair, giving her a grounding tether as the world swirled in delight.

With a shattering moan, Y/N surrendered to the waves crashing over her, and in that moment, they were all lost together as stars exploded in their shared darkness.

As the energy settled, Y/N lay amidst her lovers, limbs tangled, each breath mingling in the afterglow. They had crossed the threshold, stepping beyond the bounds of duty into a world of intimate freedom, knowing this was merely the beginning of countless adventures they would share together.

In the heart of Piltover, four souls intertwined in a dance of power, beauty, and the magical embrace of one another.

The night was electric with the hum of the city as the neon lights flickered in the streets below. The crisp air of Piltover was laced with excitement—and more intimate desires. Y/N had always been drawn to the rush of being an enforcer. Working alongside Vi and Caitlyn, she found herself tangled in a world filled with adrenaline, danger, and a hint of promise lingering just beneath the surface.

Tonight, however, the trio was off-duty and the weight of their roles melted away as they gathered in Caitlyn's elegantly decorated apartment hidden high above the bustling streets. Soft music floated through the room, setting an alluring atmosphere. Y/N throbbed with anticipation as she looked at the two women who had quickly filled both her professional and personal life with fervor.

Vi stood with her arms crossed, a mischievous grin lighting up her tattooed face. "Ready for some fun, ladies?" she quipped, her playful smirk igniting a spark in Y/N's core. 

Caitlyn, with her poised demeanor and captivating beauty, stepped closer, but not before casting a knowing glance at Y/N. "I think we’re going to indulge in something a little more… intense tonight," she purred, arching an eyebrow as she approached, her fingers trailing lightly along Y/N's arm.

Y/N flushed, her heart racing as her pulse quickened. She loved the way Vi and Caitlyn paired their bold personalities with moments of soft tenderness, especially when it came to her. Maddie had joined the two, her commanding presence adding to the heat in the room. As a fellow enforcer, she understood passion but brought an edge that left Y/N in awe.

"Y/N," Maddie drawled, her voice low and sultry, drawing Y/N's attention. "You’ve always followed our lead, but tonight, let's flip the script." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she produced a strap-on from behind her back, its sleek design shimmering under the ambient lights.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt both exhilarated and submissive—a mix that made her pulse race faster. "Are you sure?" she stammered, her cheeks rosy under their scrutiny.

Caitlyn knelt before her, tender but firm. "You’re always so strong, Y/N. Give yourself permission to let go. Let us take care of you." The gentle tug at Y/N’s heartstrings was enough to push her forward.

In a flurry of movement, the three women surrounded her, each brushing hands along her arms, tracing the curves of her body, giving her the warmth she craved. Vi pressed forward, capturing Y/N’s lips with hers, the kiss igniting fireworks in her gut. The kiss was fiery and deep, filled with tongues tangling—the taste of Vi pushing Y/N over the edge.

Caitlyn and Maddie joined their energies, kissing along Y/N’s shoulders, leaving trails of warmth that made her shiver. "Such pretty skin," Caitlyn whispered, her fingertips tracing Y/N’s collarbone, sending shivers down her spine.

Maddie, with her strategic precision, helped Y/N out of her clothing, revealing her soft curves and delicate features. "Absolutely stunning," Maddie said with an appreciative grin, her voice low and commanding. 

Vi grinned, eyes glinting with lust as she wrapped an arm around Y/N, pulling her close once more. "We can’t wait, can we? Let’s give her what she deserves."

As Maddie slid the strap-on into place, Y/N's body tingled with anticipation. She looked at the three women who surrounded her—each powerful in their own right, yet united in this moment of intimate exploration.

The teasing began slowly, with gentle touches and soft encouragement. Y/N surrendered to their desires, lost in the beauty of each kiss and caress, allowing herself to drift. Vi was the first to take her time, her movements deliberate as she teased Y/N just to the edge of pleasure before pulling away, letting the anticipation build further.

Caitlyn soon joined, her hands gliding along Y/N’s shapely curves, her voice a soothing balm, whispering sweet nothings amidst moans and encouragement. "You’re doing so well, Y/N," she breathed, eyes sparkling with mischief as she watched Y/N squirm under their attention.

Maddie finally stood behind Y/N, securing her arms, bringing her close. "Are you ready for us?" she murmured, voice heavy with promise. Y/N nodded, breath hitching in excitement and lust.

Maddie breathed in before plunging in deep, eliciting a cry from Y/N as her body instinctively arched in response. "Let go, babe," Maddie coaxed, thrusting with precision as their rhythm synchronized, each movement intensifying the bliss coursing through Y/N.

Vi and Caitlyn took turns kissing her deeply, each touch igniting hotter embers of desire. The room thrummed with shared breaths, the world outside forgotten beneath a haze of pleasure.

With every thrust, every caress, Y/N surrendered completely, losing herself in the passion that poured over her. Each woman shared conspiratorial glances filled with heat, knowing that this moment was not just theirs but a shared experience crafted among four souls entwined in passion.

Together, they built a crescendo—each pulling Y/N to heights she had only dreamed of as they whispered sweet encouragements, stitching deeper connections into their bond.

As Y/N teetered on that precipice of release, she could feel the overwhelming desire in the air, threading through their shared bodies, pushing her further. Sparks ignited with each motion until finally, the wheels of ecstasy clicked into place.

“Let go with us, Y/N,” Vi urged, fingers entwined in Y/N’s hair, giving her a grounding tether as the world swirled in delight.

With a shattering moan, Y/N surrendered to the waves crashing over her, and in that moment, they were all lost together as stars exploded in their shared darkness.

As the energy settled, Y/N lay amidst her lovers, limbs tangled, each breath mingling in the afterglow. They had crossed the threshold, stepping beyond the bounds of duty into a world of intimate freedom, knowing this was merely the beginning of countless adventures they would share together.

In the heart of Piltover, four souls intertwined in a dance of power, beauty, and the magical embrace of one another.

[scoobysnakz]

1940’s hubby miguel who is confused when you start complaining about being bored. he offers different things for you to bake him, different colours of jumpers he wouldn’t mind you knitting but you ignore them all. you just mope around the house now. not in the sense that you’re upset, just fed up. he does like how clingy it’s made you, though.

you don’t leave him alone now, arm constantly linked with his as you trace his knuckles with his thumb. he practically has to peel you off when the two of you go to work.

1940’s hubby miguel who suddenly realises what’s wrong when he offers to turn the tv on one evening when the two of you are snuggling on the sofa and you just push him back into his seat.

“nothing good on,” you mumble into his arm as you pull yourself closer to him again.

“haven’t even turned it on yet, doll,” he points out.

“i just know, migs.”

he smiles at that, finding amusement in your aloof attitude. his thick arm scoops you in close to him and nuzzles his head into your hair, breathing in the sweet scent of you.

“it’s got that nasty man all over it,” you whine, clearly annoyed that this prick is everywhere that you look.

1940’s hubby miguel who feels so guilty that his plan backfired. he never once thought that you would suddenly hate the news or even throw away the little badge from the spider-man fan club you so proudly founded.

he just wanted to have some innocent fun with his special girl, give her the best present ever and no it’s all ruined.

1940’s hubby miguel who decides to make it up to you. he goes out as spider-man again, coincidentally bumping into the stubborn mrs ohara.

“fancy seeing you again,” he grins down at you, hands proudly holding the car door open for you.

your nose crinkles in disgust at the site of him, distaste colouring your expression as you push him out of the way. try to anyway.

the absolute unit of a man stays put, feet firmly grounded on the grey pavement.

“what is it?” you huff, not even bothering to look his way.

“want to apologise,” he coos, voice irritatingly sweet, you only like it when miguel uses that voice with you, otherwise it just sounds condescending, “that was no way to treat a lady as wonderful as yourself.”

one of your eyebrows quirks at his bold statement. “i know.”

“can i make it up to you?” he presses on, “take you out to dinner? write your name in webbing from the empire state?”

you scoff at him, clearly unamused by his antics. “i don’t care if you stop the entire planet spinning, the only man i care for is my migs.”

1940’s hubby miguel who wants to smash everything in site. once again, his plan went shit side up and his wife hates spider-man even more.

it’s his fault for being so cocky and acting the way he normally would around her, not the way a distinguished hero should.

how badly he wants to make it right, make you love spider-man again, get all excited when he comes in tv, get to see that adorable scowl when he teases you about having a little crush.

1940’s hubby miguel who realises the only way to fix this is to reveal his biggest secret.

prev< >next

[bucknastysbabe]

For king aeg and his smutty angst...

What about a forced/arranged marriage (potentially a team black lady/princess kept by the greens and made to marry aeg?). Of course, she absolutely supports the blacks and therefore hates aegon and the greens. But it's their wedding night, they have to 'do their duty', right?

Brain didn't really come up with anything more than that. It's basically hate sex 😂

ℜ𝔢𝔡 𝔅𝔢𝔡𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 - 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 ℑℑ 𝔵 ℌ𝔞𝔩𝔣-𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯!ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

I FINALLY DID IT BABY I HIPEBYOU ENJOY MWAH MWAH MWAH MOTHER LANA ILY AND YOUR GOOD VIBES ALWAYS❤️

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: TW//blood play, Degredation, rough handling, Aegon being a fuckhead, some fighting from her, attempted murder, very toxic. Time skips, Consensual sex, pnv!sex, tiddy sucking, FERAL👹, arranged marriage, tb reader

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @aemondfairy @arcielee @dr-aegon @elaratyrell @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @jacesvelaryons @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @targaryen-madness @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

Divider creds: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

You were a hostage by law. You were the younger sister of Rhaenyra. Barely made it past a day when your mother died in the birthing bed while a tourney went on, the Maester’s sure you were to be the boy so dreadfully sought after.

Your sister fought for you to be married elsewhere, perhaps a Celtigar or another Velaryon. Viserys had his mind set on uniting his two different lines of progeny.

Therefore you were betrothed to Aegon, born a mere two years after you. It wasn’t on the forefront of your mind as a child, shadowing Rhaenyra for comfort. In a way, she was the motherly figure you had lost. That was more important than some silly thing that would occur far, far away.

Soon she reached her wedding when you were nine. Life grew tumultuous after that. The ever-present Ser Criston was gone and soon replaced by Laenor and Ser Harwin. Rhaenyra had her first child, Jacaerys. You remember holding him and cooing. He was perfect, yet you were not dumb, the babe’s dark hair was frighteningly similar to Ser Harwin's.

By your six and tenth nameday— you faced being surrounded by your other side of the family, aptly named the Greens for their colors of Hightower. After the tragic fight at Driftmark, Alicent quickly sequestered you off. You had wept and torn at your dresses, Ser Criston holding you back with a stiff arm and stiffer face. Your full blood, the only true connection, left on ships and dragons. Your father didn’t seem to even care, too sickly and worn down.

You’d spat at Alicent, “I hate you.”

She shook her head and sighed, “In due time you will thank me. You’ll be a queen.”

Shoving yourself off of Ser Cole, you glared at the man. He spoke, quiet but brutal, “Consider yourself lucky staying back. Wouldn’t want to get caught up in other affairs.” He earned a sharp retort, to which the queen scoffed and you stormed off.

Alone. To be utterly alone.

That was what the next few months encompassed. You were a ghost in a lively keep. Aegon began to peek his unkempt blonde hair around the same time, the prince growing into a young man. He’d already gained a reputation for an insatiable thirst for wine and women— at the mere age of fourteen.

“So will you be eager to bed me? I have quite the experience,” he said. Aegon sat sprawled on the settee across from your seat, nursing some wine. You raised a brow from your needlepoint and hissed, “Oh yes, of course, I cannot wait to have your Flea Bottom-infested cock within my pristine cunt.”

He snorted, red wine dribbling down his plump lips. Aegon grinned, seemingly not phased by your insult. The prince hummed, “How sweet. I’m saying it now, you’ll come to love it.” A rip tore through the air— startling you both. Your eyes peered down at the needlepoint. You’d grown so annoyed you ripped the fine fabric.

Eyes flicking up to Aegon you barked, “Out of here! Now!”

He scurried away, giggling, promising, “Our wedding is going to be fantastic, my lovely blackened heart!”

You grimaced, standing up to dust your gray dress off. Rhaenyra had kept a line of letter with you— urging you to kill Aegon in his sleep or abscond to Dragonstone. Peering at the unstable, absolutely lethal Ser Criston Cole standing outside your door, those options seemed impossible.

You were well aware of the threat Aegon held to the claim as the heir. The Hightowers were pushing it into every corner they could, pulling strings, lining coats with Lannister gold. Perhaps once you married the idiot, things would be different.

Using your body and status to change the outcome of a disputed throne seemed too silly. Hatred and frustration began to boil within you from that day forward. To the Seven Hells with your father and the green-blooded Hightower children. You hoped the Stranger would take Alicent and her loyal armed dog too.

Nyserion was in the dragon pit. You never got to see your mount. The queen knew you'd escape if possible. He waited for you, you could feel that much.

No.

You'd not flee.

To face your fate whether in victory or flames was a source of pride. You'd marry the whoreson, be the good princess, and wait for the time to come. You would not be overtly kind, but you’d come off as subdued, no longer the biggest threat to their plans. You would walk the line.

Your hatred for Aegon grew as time wore on in the Red Keep. The wedding had arrived. You remained stone cold kissing Aegon and taking your vows. Aegon was now eight and ten. The lanky boy had grown into a handsome, yet sulky and difficult man. He recently chopped his hair off, another sign of rebellion.

You could understand wanting to be far away. Emptiness filled your chest when the red and black cloak of yours was covered with green and gold. Rhaenyra performed the sacred act, tears in her violet eyes. Your father was too weary to do the damn thing he declared so long ago.

Aegon had whispered, “I hate this too, you know.”

“Good.”

Then the bells rang and you two were back to the mummer’s farce. Smiling and waving getting into the carriage, the small folk cheering- tilting your stomach. Aegon’s face morphed into that sullen look he carried around when he was sober. You slumped back against the cushions, sighing.

His violet eyes bore into your pale blue ones. Aegon sniffed, “I expect to be bedding you tonight. It is my right now.” Crossing your arms, you looked out of the small window. The prince cleared his throat, waiting for an answer.

“As is my duty, lord husband,” you sneered.

Aegon giggled— that annoying shriek of his. You lashed out, “Glad that is an entertaining topic for you. Go back to your whores once you've done the deed.”

“Maybe. I have to make sure I get an heir off of you. Gods forbid you're anything like your mother.”

Your vision went red, hopping across the wheelhouse to scratch and claw and scream at Aegon. He gasped in surprise, catching some nails across his pale throat, a part of his hair ripped out. The prince forced you down, holding your arms tight to your chest. He frowned, eyes filled with something.

“I’m sorry, okay, relax, we have to finish this night. Relax!”

You didn’t want to cry, yet the tears fell as you warbled, “You’re cruel. Have some shame.”

He sighed, blonde hair a mess now. Aegon gently helped you back into your seat, ordering you to stay put. He knelt beside you, a big hand touching your shaky knee. Aegon’s eyes seemed to hold some guilt as he murmured, “That was wrong. I…apologize…wife.”

The rest of the ride went in silence, Aegon retreating to his side, poorly attempting to reshape his waves. Neither of you smiled entering the keep to be presented to everyone. The first dance was a boring affair, you found no reason for happiness. Rhaenyra was the only boon, her hugging you and speaking words of revenge.

“You shall have whoever you wish. He will not be your source of unhappiness. When I am queen.”

You blocked out the rest of her words, milling over the idea of Viserys dead— Aegon being thrust upon the throne. It would be war, all-out war. Nodding blankly, you hugged your sister once again to head back to the table, heart beginning to beat fast.

Aegon was slouched back in his chair, eyes lazily roving around the dancing. He was quite drunk, slurring as he spoke. The prince asked, “Y’wanna finish this shit?”

“Make the call,” you replied.

The drunken prince stood up and roared, “It’s time for the fucking!”

Men cheered, and women squealed. Rhaenyra was held tight by Daemon— his face placid. Alicent was embarrassed by the crass wording, a ringed hand covering her face. Soon men lifted and tore at your clothes, exposing you horridly. Aegon laughed as the ladies rid him of his garments.

The pair of you were thrust into his dark chambers. You bounced once from the way they tossed you, grunting in pain. The feeling of handprints and raw skin sent a shudder down your spine. Aegon flopped onto the bed, mumbling.

“Well?” You asked.

“I don’t want to fuck you. Not yet anyways.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips. The tension leaked out of you as you escaped being groped and defiled by the prince. You thanked him quietly, crawling onto the side of the bed, and covering yourself up. Aegon fiddled around before stating, “I’m going to sleep, too drunk to get it up.”

You don’t know why you cried when his breathing turned into a soft snore. Maybe all the emotions boiling over. Soon the tears turned to anger, pissed off from how callous and awful he was. How he would steal the throne. The very image of everything that held you to this gilded cage full of spiders and snakes.

The thought came to you. Lying naked in his chamber, eyes roving around the strange whips and discarded wine bottles. You lit a candle, Aegon dead to the world in his drunken state. You peered around his room, finding a display of carved cocks and plugs of sorts at the end of the bed, frowning. Deviant.

You walked further, stopping as a sharp pain nicked your big toe. Picking your foot up with a hiss, a piece of glass was lodged in the flesh. With a grimace and grunt you pulled it out, eyes trailing up to the broken mirror, smashed to bits. Cornflower eyes scanned the shards.

You peered over your shoulder to the sleeping Aegon, disheveled, shirt off. He almost looked innocent, spared your maidenhead after all. But the shard spilling his blood…seemed all too good. The claw marks from earlier reminded you of what he was. Take the potential usurper heir, one less dragon to deal with. You wouldn’t have his spawn. Your sister was the true queen.

Slowly grabbing a shard, maddened Targaryen bloodlust rising, you crawled atop the bed. Closer and closer you crept, straddling his hips, eyes full of fury. Aegon smiled, eyes closed, plump lips curling upward, “Ah, I told you I’d sway your blackened heart one day. You want something, wife?”

Your hand began to shake as you realized the severity of what you could do. What would happen? Aegon stirred as he didn’t hear your response, violet eyes meeting your own before noting the thick glass. You spat, “I can’t allow this.”

Aegon’s eyes flashed with something besides apathy or sick humor. He was angry. You tried to move, Aegon sending the glass flying with the spatter of blood across your pristine shift. He growled, shoving and pushing you onto your belly.

“Are you that stupid? I always thought you to be more shrewd than that display. Stabbing me in my sleep…You’d be burnt before I bled out, whore.”

You bucked against him, spitting, “You’re a future usurper, a drunk, and a whoreson, your face fills me with rage! I fucking hate this Aegon.” He laughed as he ran his bloody hand down your cheek.

He sighed, a terrifying edge to his usual easy, lackadaisical nature.

“Kind words, dear wife, you think I want to be king? Like I want to rule? Your cunt sister can have it, I have no taste for it.” Aegon readjusted himself, lips almost caressing your skin.

“You’re a bitter little bitch you know that? I didn’t choose this, be mad at our father!” He laughed again, wide grin and sharp teeth glinting in the low light. Aegon’s hand spilled blood onto your nightgown as he whispered into your ear, acrid venom dripping.

“You can be mad all you want, spurn me, I don’t care. But you’re going to learn to deal with me, take my seed, and never pull such idiocy like this ever again!” You grunted in pain as Aegon’s thick fingers curled around your throat.

His plush lips caressed your ear, “That’s reasonable isn’t it dear wife? I’m not a monster. Perhaps you should look in the mirror.” He picked up the shard again, your bloodied face and hateful eyes in the reflection, Aegon grinning. Tears welled up at your nigh unrecognizable face.

He threw it away, still holding your throat, silver hair tickling your pulsing neck. Aegon hummed, “Now promise me. You're going to be a good little wife and take my seed, then no more nonsense.”

You nodded, choking out a ‘yes’!

Aegon let go, you falling to the side to hold your neck, breathing in harsh pants. He looked over you, eyes calculating, dark. You shucked off the bloodied shift, throwing it to the side. He raised a brow. “What’s this?”

You pushed him backward, nails digging into his pale shoulders. Aegon grinned, hands coming around to rest on your hips, smearing more blood, something about it was primal and arousing— the tacky feeling, iron in the air.

Disgusting anger filled you, anger at your own body betraying you, anger at his snarky face, and anger at the whole fucking lot of dragon seed in this Keep. It made you unbearably aroused in a sick way, seeking to fuck the anger out, the anger made you want carnal pain. Aegon is a piece of shit but he could provide that.

Leaning forward, breasts pushed to him, you sneered, “Yes, lord husband, I’ll do my duty. Take your cock and seed as you see fit. No better than I, you’ve thought about it before.”

“Wringing the life out of that slim neck, watching that haughty look of yours fall off your face? Magnificent.”

You huffed a laugh at that, feeling his full prick swell against your bare cunt. Sealing your lips over his puffy ones, it was a battle of teeth and tongue. More blood spilled from your lip as he bit at it, lapping it up as you moaned, squirming atop him.

Aegon smacked your ass, sucking and nibbling your jaw as he murmured, “Gods you're an uppity bitch, yet I've wanted to fuck you for so long now.” He nipped at your neck again, moving down to pop a nipple in his mouth, moving you around.

You moaned in delight, arching and rolling your hips along his shaft, earning his noises, and stimulating your sensitive buds further. Yanking on his hair you breathed, “I didn't want to catch a disease from you, but you've grown comely, little brother.

The blonde pinched your other nipple roughly, popping off with a string of drool. Aegon grinned. “That’s the closest thing I've gotten of a compliment for you. No diseases I’m aware of, I pay fine money for my whores.” He smacked your ass again— sharp and loud as you cried out.

“You want to ride my cock dearest? Have your illusion of control?”

“Fuck you.”

He shrieked in laughter as you rose, slick cunt dripping. Your toned thighs, thick with muscle from dragon riding, lowered upon his prick. You bit back the guttural noise forced out of your throat, his prick tearing and bullying its way into your untouched cunt.

Aegon groaned, his hands digging into your hips as you panted, feeling blood join your slick. With a harsh pant, you leaned forward again, hands on his shoulders as you rode Aegon’s thick cock, the sight of blood and slick making his eyes shine.

He growled, “That’s a good princess, you’re mine now, such a little freak, getting all hot from blood and pain. A true Targaryen aren’t you, angry, vicious cunts.” He moaned when you slapped him, splitting his puffy lip. Crashing your lips against his, you lapped it up, slipping your tongue to mix with his.

He met you halfway, cock spearing you as you rolled down in quick jerks, nothing pretty. It was raw, grunts and rough slaps filling the room. Aegon’s big hand cracked down on your ass, your eyes rolling up as he dominated the kiss.

He panted against your lips.

“Gods— you’re fucking divine. Should’ve known you’d like it like this. Hard and fast, bloody, like some degenerates in those houses on the edge of the Street of Silk. I oughta take you some time. We can fuck someone together, hm?”

Your hips stuttered at the thought, mouth falling open to groan his name, gargling out a ‘fuck yes!’ Aegon grinned, groaning as you rode him harder, tits bouncing as you forced his thick length deeper. Your pussy was dragging and pulsing, wanting more and more, tightening.

The prince’s back arched as his cock pulsed, grunting your name as he shivered. He was close as you, groaning, “Good fucking wife, yes, gonna stuff you full of seed, take you out before you have to sit around and let me stuff you with more— our godsdamned babe. Want that?”

You nodded, hips moving at a breakneck pace, pleading, “Yes, yes, let’s take the town, show me, show me before I’m stuck to this wretched godsdamned keep. I’m your only cunt then, fit for you to fuck.”

He grew breathier at the idea, greedy hands massaging and plucking at your tits, lips biting and nipping your neck while groaning. You felt a jolt from him, Aegon crying out huskily as he emptied into you, forcing you onto your back as he fucked his seed into you with loud squelches.

You cried out, back arching at the sensation, the flood of hot gush drawing your climax out, milking Aegon further, begging him to fuck you more, the prince whining until a second one hit you, lurid squelching filling the room as he chanted your name, falling forward as you writhed and squeezed him, about to rip his pretty hair out.

Silence finally fell over the room save panting.

You knew there was a method of waiting, waiting until the seed could take. blood and cum were tacky on your body. He finally relented, pulling out with a sweet peck, hissing. You made a soft noise as your cunt leaked his spend, chest heaving.

Aegon laid on his back next to you. He smiled his little smile, lips puffed and lip-sided from busting the bottom. He splayed a hand over your belly, laughing, “And what a claim this will be, huh?”

Dread filled you once again. But with his babe in your belly, you could swing some leeway. With a hoarse chuckle, you replied, “Indeed a claim it is. I think it’s all over us.”

He laughed again, eyes sparkling, “Eh, I thought it would be worse.”

Could it?

[reiderwriter]

Margaritas and Mistakes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, smut coming in the next part (it's already written it just felt best to post them separately lmao).

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, some heavy petting and mention of sexual arousal. 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

A/N: Welcome back, it's my week off currently so I've been writing a copious amount of smut, so please enjoy this 3.6k word build up to more smut coming soon. Requests are still open, and you can find my masterlist here!

PART TWO!

You truly made all of your worst decisions when under the influence of alcohol. You blamed it on the fact that you really didn’t get the chance to go out all that often now that you were a full time member of the BAU Team. But the job was sometimes rewarding, and considering you’d been working on consultations all week and not a full time case, you were really looking forward to stretching your legs this friday night and getting some much needed relaxation in before you had to stare evil in the eye one more time.

“Girls’ Night Out! No male detectives, partners, Special Supervisory Agents, Unit Chiefs, OR Doctors!” Penelope cheered as you arrived at her apartment that night prior to your eventful outing.

“God I needed this,” Emily sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I got to kick back with a glass of chardonnay.”

“You sent me a picture of your drink two days ago, and it didn’t exactly look like water,” JJ laughed.

“Ah you see, my dear JJ, that wasn’t kicking back. That was therapy.”

“Honestly, though, it’s going to be good to get out of the house. I swear, the only places I’ve been for the last month have been my apartment and work,” you sigh, downing the last of the drink Penelope had handed you on the way in.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing, Y/N? Was he that bad?”

“Don’t even mention it. He took me back to his place and he didn’t even have a mattress on the floor, wanted us to do it on his couch,” you groan. “The couch that was also housing all of his laundry. And I’m not positive it was even clean laundry.”

You really had been having the absolute worst luck with men recently; other than your aforementioned tinder date, the only men who had shown any interest in you being serial killers who wanted to murder you and married cops looking to fool around with an FBI agent. Not the most auspicious of dating pools.

“Okay, operation get Y/N laid is a go. Ladies, your jobs tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to become the best wing-women this town has ever seen!” Penelope joked, and you found yourself giggling at just the idea, thankful that they were taking the time to try to cheer you up.

“Oh I’m all in. I’m warning you now, Y/N, my wing-woman success rate is pretty high. I’ve helped multiple couples achieve not only orgasm, but also marriage and kids.” Emily boasted.

“Emily, next time you might want to think about the wording of that one,” JJ laughed. “But I’m in too, you could use a little unwinding.”

“Not you too, JJ. You were supposed to be our voice of reason tonight.” You giggle into your cup, feeling the effect of your starter alcohol already.

“Nope. We’re having no responsible adults in our midst tonight. That’s why I’ve already arranged for our favourite Doctor to come and pick us up when the last of us falls tonight. He’s at a screening of some Indie Russian flick until 2am which is probably about perfect for our plans.”

This is the first you’ve heard of Penelope’s plans, but you’re not against it. With a solid escape route, you can let loose as much as you want tonight and know that all of your friends are fully able to have as much fun as possible tonight.

“Well, that’s the plan for us, sweetcheeks. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Penelope winked at you with a nefariously innocent look on her face. And suddenly you weren’t quite as sure you trusted her…

–X–

After your first margarita at the bar you were still feeling fine. Sure, you were talking a lot louder than you usually did, and if you saw yourself in the mirror you’d probably start giggling instantly at the stupid, semi-permanent grin on your face, but you were feeling so relaxed that it was of no consequence.

You’d moved swiftly from Penelope’s apartment to the nearest downtown bar. It looked pretty seedy to you, and the lighting was so low you could barely make out the faces of your friends in their seats at the same table as you, but you were sure some of that was just the alcohol blurring your vision.

Your hearing though was still in top shape, which was why when Penelope asked her next question, you almost spit the drink out of your mouth, rushing to laugh.

“Okay, fuck, marry, kill, Hotch, Morgan, Reid.” She giggled as she posed the question to her teammates.

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair.” Emily laughed at the question posed.

“You’re right, I don’t know a woman alive that doesn’t want a ride on my chocolate thunder.” Penelope let out a faux dreamy sigh and took another swig of her drink.

“And marrying Reid just seems wrong. He’s like our brother at this point.” JJ points out, just shuddering at the thought.

“So we’re all in agreement? Fuck Morgan, marry Hotch and lovingly bury Reid six foot under?” Emily laughs and the other two nod.

“Nope,” is all you manage to get out before going for another large gulp of your drink.

“Well, well, well, Y/N what would you be doing differently?” Emily snaps her head around to look at you, eager for the juicy details.

“None of you are curious what the doctor is packing?” You reply, almost innocently, unaware of the many plots culminating in the minds of your friends at that very second.

“Not at all. “Nope.” “That’s pretty gross, actually.” They all seem to reply at once, but Penelope pushes another drink into your hand as soon as you’re done and gets ready to launch a counter-attack.

“Are you curious about it?” She leaves it at that, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d have seen them all lean into you, desperate for your answer and ready to hang off of your every word. "Do you think about you and him… You know?"

“Every night,” you sigh dreamily. And you’re telling the truth. In the recent months, you’d found yourself waking up a little hot and bothered after some rather steamy midnight encounters with the Good Doctor. You’d become close to him over the few months you’d worked with him as a member of the team, but it wasn’t like you’d had a crush on him or anything. It was more like your body had an unconscious appreciation of his body. Or at least for certain parts of his body.

“His fingers are really nice, you know. And they’re big, too. Just makes a girl curious, s’all.” You down the proffered drink, hiding your remaining shame behind the glass.

“No, no, no babycakes, we’re gonna need more details than that if you’re gonna claim that you want to fuck Reid more than Morgan.” Penelope insisted, more forceful now than before.

“And what exactly does every night mean, Y/N? Something you should be telling us?” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at you and you lost it for a few seconds having a giggling fit.

“Okay, okay, it’s just… You’ve seen how he looks, right? And there was that one case three weeks back. He confronted that accomplice, and when he was about to bolt he slammed him against the wall and held him there like he’d barely broken a sweat. And you know how it is, we see Morgan kicking down doors on the daily, so I thought I wouldn’t be that interested in feats of physical strength, but my only thought in that moment was that I’d rather like him to slam…me…against that …wall.” You slowed down your speech at the end, looking up to see what looked to you like the grinning faces of three wolves staring down at their prey.

“And now I need another drink, anyone up for another round?” You squeaked out, changing the topic before any of the others could make their own comments.

–X–

Your second round of margarita’s was probably where things went irreversibly wrong for you. You’d returned to the table with two rounds of shots for all, having queued up four songs on the ancient jukebox you’d seen in the corner, hoping to entice the girls away from conversation, and it had worked.

After you’d bought the first two rounds, JJ had bought you another, and then Emily had splurged on another three, and then Garcia had rounded the hour out with one more shot, this time with sparklers attached.

So by the time you got back to your table and took a much needed swig of a drink that didn’t have to go down all at once, you were feeling well past drunk, to say the least.

But with the free-flowing alcohol came the lack of inhibition, so you really didn’t care. True to their word, the girls had been doing their best to convince you to dance with some of the guys in the bar since you’d gotten up, but truthfully none of them had enticed you.

But now, the night was running out, and the alcohol had you a bit hot and bothered, so when you felt a nice, hard body press up gently against yours, you decided to take advantage of the situation. Without looking back, you wrapped your hand around the one of his that had grazed your hips and held in there, moving your hips back and forth and beginning to grind back into your mystery man.

He was a little bit still at first, but eventually began making some slow movements along with you, and you could see the others cheering for you from a distance, Emily especially whooping from her perch at the bar.

You felt the voice lean down to your ear after a minute or so, and you tilted your neck up to hear the tall man a little better.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He whispered against your skin, still letting him guide you through the music. Had you been sober, you’d have realised the voice was more than familiar, especially since he’d said your name, but you were not, and so you did not.

“Well, if you’re lucky, tonight I’ll be doing you?” you giggled back, looking up at the man quickly. But with the hazy lights of the bar and the copious amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you don’t catch a good enough glimpse of the man to realise he’s your coworker.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says, when you start to pull him towards the bar, his grip on your hips tightening, accidentally pressing you back into what you expect to be his semi-erect cock, straining against your clothing.

“Oh, what, wanna take me home right now? That’s okay with me, mister.” You giggle, grinding back into him more intentionally this time. You grip his hand and try to force it up to touch more of you, utterly carefree about throwing yourself on what you presume to be a stranger in the middle of a bar.

Before you manage to, however, he lets out a frustrated groan and turns you around by your hips, forcing you to look him in the eye for a little bit longer, and all of your senses finally start working once again.

“Yes, Y/N, we’re going now. Penelope called me 15 minutes ago and said you were ready for that ride home and I can see now that she was right,” Reid leant down so you could hear him enough, but your brain was short circuiting.

You’d been grinding on your coworker. The one that had been the cause of so much of your sexual frustration for the past god knows how long. Spencer was right in front of you, and he hadn’t loosened his grip on you that much. Spencer was right in front of you and his erection was poking into you.

Really, your following actions shouldn’t be held against you in the slightest given the situation.

“Are you going to take me home, Doctor? Lay me down in bed and get me nice and comfortable?” you giggled up at the man, now enjoying the way your insinuations were making him blush.

“Y/N, you’re not being fair. We need to get the others and go,” he shot back, irritation dripping from his tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I being a bad girl?”

“You’re certainly being very difficult- what are you doing?” He jolted as you moved your hands to his fair, beginning to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s softer than I imagined it would be,” you giggled again, pressing yourself forward to press a kiss against his neck.

“Okay, we need to get you home,” he panicked, grabbing both of your hands, pressing them against your sides, spinning you around and walking you back towards the other girls.

“Hello Spencer~” the girls all giggled as you approached. You struggled against his grip a little, but he kept you firmly in place, man-handling you slightly, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Who let Y/N drink this much? Don’t answer that, you’ve all been drinking the same amount, right?” He left out a frustrated breath, and ran one hand through his hair. You attempted to move again, but he’d practically pinned you to the table. Your hips were pressed into the edge of it, his hips pressed against you, forcing you up against the table in a way that should have been uncomfortable. His other hand was resting near your discarded glass, caging you in almost entirely.

“Cars out front, lets go,” he said, his jaw twitching with anger now.

“No need, lover boy, taxis are coming to pick myself, Penelope and JJ up as we speak,” Emily slurred the words, but got the idea across well enough. “You’ll just be needing to take this little kitten home and you’re done for the night.”

They were all giggling now, as you let out a childlike yay, your excitement evident on your face.

“We’ll wait and see you all off together at least, so outside now. She needs some fresh air or something,” he was practically talking to a wall at that point, but after a few repetitions, the women acquiesced and moved outside.

“Ooh, that’s my taxi, gotta go,” Garcia practically runs from you the moment you step outside, and you wave at her whilst wrapped around one of Reid’s arms, stumbling with each step.

“Use protection my sweet babies,” she shouts as she slams the car door just as her car drives away, leaving a spluttering Spencer unable to respond that he’s not touching you tonight while you’re in this state.

The taxis for Emily and JJ arrive swiftly as well, and the two soon depart with similar messages and soon you find yourself alone with Spencer once again.

“So, your place or mine,” you smirk, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in the sweetest way you can manage.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk I may be, Doctor, but I absolutely know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want you to shove me against a wall and finger fuck me until I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

“Goddamnit, Y/N, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Oh you want me to be quiet? If you take my panties off and push them into my mouth maybe you could shut me up for a few minutes.”

“Get in the car, now.” You stick your tongue out at him, but hop into the passenger seat. He slams the door in your face and takes a few deep breaths before moving around and getting in himself.

–X–

Despite having the window open the entire car journey, hoping that the fresh air will do you some good, you’re still on top form when Spencer pulls up to your apartment.

“I didn’t even give you my address,” you pouted, as you tried, unsuccessfully, to remove your seatbelt.

“I memorised your file, now let’s get you into bed,” he unclasps it for you, and you use the close proximity to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you get into bed with me, hot stuff,” you wink at him and make for the door. “You know, you’re going to remember everything I said in the morning, right?” You asked him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered under his breath as he caught you just as you were about to teeter into the hedge on the shared green space. You wrapped your arms around his neck for the second time that night and stopped him in his tracks. Looking deep into his eyes, you took one of your hands and traced it gently over the side of his face and down his neck, your eyes following your fingers. He gulped involuntarily when you hit his adams apple, and you snapped your eyes back to him.

“Chances are that I’m probably not going to remember any of this, right?” You smiled up at him.

“Alcohol induced memory blackouts tend to occur in binge-drinkers whose alcohol levels have hit at least 0.16%, and further studies show that 50% of adults will experience some kind of alcohol-related memory loss in their lives, so yes, I’d say you’re probably not going to remember any of this.” He shot back, almost entirely still in anticipation of your next move.

“Good, then I might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts right.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, your lips crashed into his, and after a beat, his reciprocated, moving over yours just as hungrily. He moved now, walking you back to your door, lips still locked in a ferocious battle for dominance, until he pinched your arm slightly. You gasped a little, ready to pull back and complain about the pain, but suddenly his tongue was in your mouth and you were back at it all over again. He tapped your legs, signalling that he wanted you to jump into his arms, and you did, wrapping your legs around his centre tightly as he finished making his way to your apartment door.

Pulling away for the briefest of moments, he pulled your keys from your back pocket, and made quick work of your door.

“Bedroom, now Spencer, please I need you,” you whimpered in his arms, pressing kisses against his jaw and neck. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

“No. We are going to the bathroom, where you’re going to wash your makeup off, brush your teeth and change your clothes, and then you are going to get in bed and sleep.” He unceremoniously dropped you at the door of your bathroom, and you slid to the ground.

Pouting up at him, you felt the tears well in your eyes.

“No! I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you sounded like a petulant child and Spencer cursed a little under his breath when he looked down at you.

“Y/N listen to me very clearly, you’re not thinking straight. You’re way past the legal limit, you can’t consent to any of this and I’m not going to sleep with you and then have you forget it in twelve hours.” His tone was harsh, but you listened to him.

Picking yourself up off the floor, you followed his instructions and got yourself ready for bed.

“Okay, I’m all done now, Doctor,” you grumbled once you were done. You half expected him to have left you there, choosing to retreat whilst you cleaned yourself up, knowing that he’d already done what was asked of him by getting you home. But he was still there perched on your bed, and you made one last attempt to get what you wanted.

As he made his way to stand up, you used the last of your strength to push him back down again and climbed into his lap. This time though, you made no attempt to take anything further, just wrapping your arms and legs around him and burrowing into his shoulder. You had to admit, you were getting particularly sleepy now.

You let out a small yawn and burrowed further into his neck just as he opened his mouth.

“Y/N, please, what are you doing?” He sounded tired now, but didn’t attempt to push you off again.

“You said I was probably not going to remember this in the morning. That’s not going to fly with me. So you’re gonna sleep here with me and tell me everything I forgot in the morning.” You informed him.

He scoffed at you, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“So you want me to just sleep here next to you? No pushing you against a wall? No panties in your mouth?”

“Nope. Like you said, ‘s getting pretty late and it’s been a long week, so it's probably for the best if we…” You tried to finish but your tongue was so heavy in your mouth that you just couldn’t use it anymore. You felt the warm rumble of his answering laugh of disbelief as he manoeuvred the two of you under the covers, taking the time to kick off his shoes and remove his coat and shirt.

“Sleep well, Y/N, because when you wake up I’m going to make you feel all of the torment you’ve put me through tonight tenfold.”

And he held you there against his chest as both of you fell deeper and deeper into your slumber.

PART TWO

[evanpeterspeter]

Misbehavior

An: this is a request from a lovely Anon!!! Hope you like it :3

Wc: 2.8k

Tw: Virgin y/n, P in V, dom, sub, slight abuse, super hot kit and so on

———————————————————————————

You've become a Postulant at the, Briafcliff Manor insane asylum, and has been there for a good while. Just recently a gentleman named Kit Walker, arrived for allegedly murdering his wife. Once you laid eyes on him, you grew an obsession towards him. The way he would keep that scolding look across his face when your sisters or sister Jude would walk by. Just the way he looks at you when you walk by it just always made you flutter, as he would lick his lips and look at you up and down. If he only knew what was going through that dirty mind of yours. You were just so astonished by his strong built and his corny accent, it always made you aroused for him. Today was just like any day.. So what you thought.

"Y/n?" Sister Jude called. You turned around, facing her. "Oh yes, Sister Jude?" You said with your hands together and giving a slight bow of respect. "I have a very special job for you." She turned and put her hand on your shoulder, walking you to the main unit of the asylum. "Since one of the sisters are no longer with us.." she looked up to the ceiling with sad eyes and did the sign of the cross, then looked back at you. "You my dearest, will be in charge of watching one of her patients." She gave a cheeky smile and patted your shoulder, pointing at the dozed off man in the corner. "Kit Walker." Your heart sunk. "You'll be taking good care of him." As she was walking away, she stopped in her tracks. "Discipline him if need be... or I will.." she said not turning her head, then walked off.

You shyly walked over to the drugged man in the chair, still buzzing from his Electric Shock Therapy session. You gently placed your hand against his shoulder. He jolted and jumped back upon his chair causing it to scoot way back. You flinched at his response and reluctantly took your hand back. "M-Mr. Walker?.. are you okay?"

He looked up with red eyes, nose still runny and his body swaying. "Fuck you want?.." the dazed man muttered. You cleared your throat and stood up properly. "I'll be taking care of you.." he scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Let's see how long you last.." he muttered looking away. Your brows furrowed and tilted your head. "What is that supposed to mean?" You spoke with a stern tone. Kit stood up, trying to look tough but got hit with being dizzy and nauseated. The poor soul stood above you, giving a nasty expression. You couldn't help but feel your heart ache for him. You pressed your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his cheek bone. His expression turned from nasty to a soft pout. "Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way to your rooms." The nun projected. You step back, clasping your hands together against your chest, giving him one last look before parting ways and you turned leaving the main room.

~

The next morning came by rather quickly than usual. Heading to the main unit, you spot the brown eyed man playing cards with another patient. As instructed, you put on that god awful french song. Kit slammed the cards against the table and looked at you. "You really have to play this fucking song?!" You walked over to him and the other patient. "Excuse me?" You said in an assertive tone. Or at least you thought it was. He reached out grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to the upper of his lap. He dug his finger tips down to your hip bones, pressing his dick to your ass and he leaned over to your ear. "Whatcha tryna do to me doll?.. drive me insane?" He growled. You felt your core tingle and your breath hitch. As much as you felt so into him you knew you had a job to do. You definitely don't want to get in any trouble with Sister Jude. You leaped up from his lap and slapped his face. Slapping him in the face was definitely not ideal for you, but it felt needed. Kit held his hand to his rosey red cheek, absolutely stunned. "Do not touch me, Mr. Walker or else your delinquent behavior will be lead to a well deserved punishment." You said while straightening and smoothing out your habit. He smirked and looked you up and down. "Oh yeah? Okay lil lady." He turned back to the table and picked up his deck of cards. You huffed and walked back to the record player and turned it up louder, looking over your shoulder to see the stuck up man kiss his teeth, shaking his head at you.

~

The afternoon soon came around, you've tended to all your duties, including watching the troubled man. He'd been quite a ruckus all day, but didn't break any rules, though he's in the cusp of doing so. You went into the kitchen to clean up supper and gather the used utensils. All of a sudden you heard a crash and shouting. You dropped everything and ran to the source. There stood Kit with a kitchen knife on top of another patient, his arm holding up the knife while his knee was placed on the poor man's chest. "MR. WALKER!" You shouted. Another postulant ran and attended to the other man as you pull Kit off onto his feet, snatching the knife and throwing it behind you. "What, Doll? He tried taking my food away." The man peered up and shouted. "I just wanted a piece of your bread!" He said, struggling to catch a breath. You growled and grabbed Kit by the ear, dragging him to the electric shock treatment room. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Okay okay fine let me go!" He whined holding your hand that's tugging his ear. You let go, slamming the door shut and locked it. He winced cupping his hands over his ear "C'mon Doll face, I don't want to do this useless treatment." You shook your head and pushed him onto the examination table. "No, no please. I'm sorry. Please don't use it on me.." he started to become more anxious and is squirming around.

You straddled his chest, reaching for the cuffs and buckling them down. You hopped off and tied his ankles to the metal frame of the examination table. As you peeked your head up from tying his legs, he seemed to have 'pitched a tent'. Though he seemed slightly nervous, his little friend got excited. You raised a brow and he turns hot in the face. "I-I can't help it, especially when I have such an Angel face like you, securing me up.." you felt slightly flustered but you had this surge of dominance rush over you. You walked over to the side of the table facing him. Pulling out the drawer near by, some bandage tape. You tore off a long enough strip and placed it over his mouth. "No more talking." You took off your black gown, leaving you in just your thin lacy black underwear and veil, removing it revealing your long wavy hair. His eyes widened and you could tell he fell head over heels for you. You tugged his pants and underwear's off of him, causing his cock to spring free. Your face becomes flushed by the size of him. You bit you bottom lip and straddled his waist. Your cunt leaving your slick on his body made his cock twitch and a soft groan came out of him. You leaned forward and pinched his nipples roughly. "Shut up or else..". He raised a brow and smirked under the tape letting out another groan. You crawled forward, ripped the tape off his soft pink lips. "Ah fuck!" Shouted Kit. "You asked for it.." you crawled up to his head, your knees on the sides of his ears and you lowered your cunt to his lips. He instantly licked a strip up your cunt and started suckling on your clit. Leaving your honey suckle juices all over his lips and chin. You placed your gentle hands on his pecks, leaning your self onto your arms, arched back grinding your soft cunt against his lips and his nose rubbing your sweet bundle of nerves. You let out soft whimpers of lust just fill the small dainty room. You leaned forward and gripped his hair, looking lustfully into his eyes. His eyes focused on yours, he continued to eat you out and all your sweet nectar.

You tossed your head back, feeling how powerful his tongue and lips were. You felt yourself coming to a teetering rush of an orgasm. You quickly pulled off, not wanting to finish just yet and looked at the breathless man underneath you. "F-fuck.. you taste so good, Doll..." you leaned into a heated kiss, tasting your juices and his soft mint and cigarette breath. You pinched his nipple as he let out a gentle groan. Massaging his hardened nipple, he bucks his hips looking for some sort of friction. You giggled gently pulling away from his tender lips. "Are you needy now, Mr. Walker?" He took shallow breaths and nodded his head. "Call me kit, baby." You couldn't help but become flushed from that comment. You backed yourself down to his torso, and decided to tease him by rubbing your cunt on his red velvety tip. The friction against your clit made you so needy for him, but you knew that you had to stick with your plan. "G-god.. you're such a fucking tease." He bucked his hips in effort to get himself inside you, but you pulled up and wrapped your hand around his neck, choking him. "Nuh uh pretty boy.. I'm not the one who misbehaved am I?" You smirked as you went back down, rubbing your cunt against his cock. "Come on suga, can't I get a taste?" "Oh but you all ready had.." you brought your hand up to the underside of his jaw, prying his head up. You leaned down and started sucking on his neck, leaving beautiful pink and purple spots and love bites on his neck. You decided enough was enough and lowered yourself onto his shaft. You knew you've always been kinky but you were still a virgin. You placed your hands on his chest and guided yourself onto him. You felt your walls stretching and it burnt. You gasped and tightened very tight, clawing his poor chest. He hissed and bit his lip. "Baby, have you done this before?" Your eyes watered as you try lowering yourself on him, wincing in pain. Kit looked at you with a worried expression and shook his head. "Baby, hey.. let me help you okay? Just unlatch me, Doll.. I promise I ain't goin no where... I wanna make this right for you.." you bit your lip, thinking of the pros and cons. "Y-you promise?" He gave you a gentle smile and nodded. "Of course, Doll." You chewed the inside of you cheek debating if he was being honest or not and then decided you'd let him. You winced as you pulled off of him, leaning over his torso, unclasping the cuffs that withheld his wrists, then with hesitation his ankles. You looked at him with pleading eyes as he stood up. He laid you down onto the cold metal table and put his knee upon the frame. "Trust me, okay, Doll?" He spoke comfortingly. You bit your bottom lip and nodded.

He placed his pointer finger and his middle finger together and began to rub your sensitive bundle. You propped yourself up with your elbows and forearms, tossing your head back. You let out some soft enchanting moans, the pretty boy gave a crooked smile. "You're beautiful.. I hope you know that.." you felt your heart pounding with his comment. You started to grind your hips against his fingers. "Easy there tiga', so needy are we.." he stuck his fingers in his mouth to lube it up and slid only the pads of them, then slowly slid the rest in, curling them upwards. You gasped, gripping onto the edge of the cold metal table. He continued to finger fuck you with his thick, strong fingers, using his other hand to rub your clit. You felt all of his wonders against you and it felt whimsical. You leaned back and started to play with your perky nipples. "Mmm" you hummed.

"Do you feel ready enough, my angel?" With your mouth agape and nodded. He pulled his now coated fingers and tasted them. He let out a hum and smiled. "So good.." Kit pulled you to the end of the table, pumped himself a couple of times and then lined up with your entrance. "Hold on to me if it hurts, okay?" You looked up at him sheepishly and gripped onto his biceps. "I have you, don't worry. I'll be gentle, I promise." He leaned down to peck your lips, then slowly entered himself into you. You squealed and clawed his strong, toned arms. He hissed sharply but barely noticed because of how tight you were. "God, Angel.. you are so tight.." he said in such a masculine manner. "Let loose.. stop tensing up, that'll only hurt more..take a deep breath with me, okay?" He took a deep breath, and so did you, in through the nose and out with the mouth. He finally slid in all the way. "There you go.. I'm in all the way.." he smirked, giving you an alluring smile. He began to slowly move in and out, giving a gentle rhythm. Your eyes started to flutter as you felt that burning stretch slowly fade into sweet lust. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gripped him tightly, burring your head into the crook of his neck, smelling a faded sent of supplied spring fresh soap, slight hint of sweat and whatever was left of a smoked cigarette. He moved his rhythm to a faster pace and it became a bit more unorganized timing. He reached his lower hand and started rubbing your sweet bump of lust, fast but steadily. You felt your cute small cunt becoming wounded up so tight it could almost snap. You let out some mewls of ardor and let out a loud gasp as you feel a sudden wave coming your way. "K-kit.. I think-" he slammed his plump, luscious lips into yours as that tsunami of sexual longing came to its highest peak. You let out a loud kind of moan that probably anyone in the unit could potentially hear. Kit gripped onto you, pulling you into a tight embrace and he lets his thick white ropes fill your insides. He let out a girthy moan into your ear, as he rides out his high, making all of his muscles tense up and his cum seeping out your cunt.

As he caught his breath he pulls out his now softening cock, letting the rest of his mess ooze out and spill and pool onto the table. He kissed your ear and pulled away, fixing your beautiful long hair and pinching your nose. "Cute as a button.." The first thing he did was to tend to you. He found some white cloths folded neatly and stacked under the cabinet. He dampened it with a slight bit of water, then came to your aid, wiping your sore and swollen cunt gently. Even though you and him were at an asylum, he still found a way to provide after care. After cleaning you up, he wiped off the table, tossed the towel on a rolling tray and grabbed you bridal style to place you down gently onto the faded tiled floor. "Let's dress you back up.." he flashed a smile. You no longer felt the need to be dominant nor aggressive, you felt pampered, like a princess. No man, especially here, made you feel so respected, loved and cared for. As he helped you dress and put your gown back on. You grabbed him by the cheeks and planted a very sensual kiss. He was slightly in a shock but then grabbed you by the waist, deepening the kiss.

You pulled away looking him up and down, and gave an alluring grin that was so contagious, kit smiled widely. "I love that smile, Doll.." he planted a final kiss on your forehead and then finished dressing his lower half. He walked over to the door, bringing his arms to showcase the exit, in an invitation to unlock it. "I guess I got some cleanin to do, huh?" You giggled and unlocked the door letting him out to clean his mess he made.

———————————————————————————

Tag list: @evansonlylove @xrag-dollx @warrenlipkaswife @jazz-berry

[inf3ct3dd]

ACT 1. TROUBLE

summary: the plan hatches.

warnings: mentions of death, sex joke

wc: 3k

authors note: this fic has been my wonderfully niche vision for so long.... i hope you all enjoy

next chapter. masterlist

the unforgiving blaring heat of the desert was torturous.

the sun seemed to be beaming from right above, practically frying you and your companions skin as you treaded through the sand. one suffering the consequences worse than another, skin resembling a boiled lobster.

dry, chapped lips silently begging for water, only to be met with the sting of saltwater sweat dripping onto them. you can try to lick them away, but it will only worsen the pain. pain, your muscles ache and your bones feel as if they’ll crumble if you step forward once more. you needed…out.…of the heat……

ah, alas, a river! oh, how lovely, a quench to the terrible thirst…. you reach out towards it, cupping your hands to drink, and are met with the hot, cruel surface of a car door.

“are you done, r? you’re gonna set off the alarm.” ellie had destroyed your dramatic scene , rolling her eyes and slumping down on the concrete next to the car. her long ass jorts protected her skin from the heat of the ground.

“no, it can’t be! twas a mirage, my mind has fooled me!” draping a dramatic hand across your forehead, you’re met with a moist surface that you wipe away onto your shorts, falling next to the girl. your shorts however, did not protect you. you slightly hissed in pain, before bringing your knees to your chest.

“they shouldn’t have let you read othello. i think you’re actually going insane.” she bluntly remarks, offering you a light giggle.

your english teacher, honors english if you wanna brag, had just started a shakespeare unit, and you were over the moon. being the first to volunteer to read in class, writing your own gorgeous sonnets about even more gorgeous subjects , and torturing ellie with your constant chiming of “shall i compare thee to a midsummers day?”

“ugh, you hate to see a girl being theatrical.” with a quick roll of your eyes, you crossed your arms and pouted.

“yes, i do.”

ellie knew it wasn’t one of your actual sad pouts, like when she accidentally killed the snail you two found, but simply you being….theatrical. like your wonderful performance in the school musical last year, as sharpay in high school musical. was that fuckass blonde wig a disgrace? absolutely. but your wonderful acting skills distracted from it, or so you hoped.

“you know whats actually making me go insane? the fact that you made me walk to 7-11 in this heat!!! you tryna kill me?”

the taste of the slushy was still lingering in your mouth , along with the red color on your tounge, but the cold it brought was long gone.

“oh my lady, i would never do such a thing! but alas, i required a refreshment, and id hate to go alone.” ellie counters back in her own shitty-british accent , holding a hand to her chest.

“see, told you its fun.” you nudged her elbow with your own, sweaty limbs colliding with a gross “splat”.

“yeah yeah, whatever. you’re right about everything, my glorious queen-“

“indeed!” you interrupted, pout replaced with a cheeky smile.

you both sat for a second, catching your breath. your eyes wandered to ellies arms, and you noticed she had turned into a lobster. her arms were bright red and sunburnt, and you reached out to poke her.

“ow-fuck! why did you do that!!” she winced in pain, moving her arm away.

“jesus, why do you never put on sunscreen? you trying to get tan or something?”

“i didn’t think it would be this bad outside..”

“you’re stupid.”

“you’re mean..”

after a while of you both sitting in comfortable silence, both of your eyes fall on the vehicle across the street. it was the one thing you always loved staring at on this street. the ferrari was reflecting all the beams of ultraviolet hitting it, practically glowing in the humid hellscape. the dashboard and practically everything else was smothered in dust, the cause probably being its idle parking spot, same one it had been occupying since you and ellie were 5 years old. the black detailing and the shiny silver horse enchanted you, despite the cars mildly decrepit state. 13 years later, you wondered if it would even still run. wondered how the engine would feel rumbling underneath you as you pushed against the wind down the empty streets.

people always make driving seem so crazy and thrilling in movies. sharp turns, constant speeding, drifting, it was like the road was a rollercoaster. or maybe you had just watched too many fast and furious movies with your dad.

but every time you were in a car, you were calm. always having an arm out the window, sometimes waving your hand like the ocean, and others making finger legs and doing parkour off of the other cars. when it rained, especially at night, you’d always beg your dad to drive you around. you’d try to count the raindrops on the windshield , and often times you’d let the taps on the windows lull you to sleep.

you have many memories of your dad taking you on drives to get you to sleep. especially when you were younger, and didn’t want to go to bed because you ‘weren’t tired’. every time, he’d just say “you don’t have to sleep, just rest.” sometimes he’d sing the songs he burned onto his cds, other times he’d make lists of things you wanted to do the next day. but no matter what, within 10 minutes you were always out cold. most times he’d keep driving for a bit, just to make sure you were really sleeping, and then carry you as gently as possible up to your room.

now, you knew better than to try and make him carry you up the stairs. you’d have a dramatic stretch, and practically drag yourself to your house before flopping down on the couch. half of the time face first.

you never wanted to be the one driving, though. you didn’t trust yourself behind the wheel, thinking you’d get too relaxed and doze off the second you started driving. or get into a crash. every time you did bumper carts, you’d be the one annoying all the little kids by hitting them a thousand times with your car. plus, highways are scary as fuck.

but for some reason, every time you saw that car parked down your street, you imagined yourself behind the wheel. always with some of those cool ass driving gloves on, and the scorpion jacket ryan gosling had in drive. you’d drift like all those cool dudes in your dads movies, and never ever crash into anyone on the highway. you thought it was blessed with some spell that made everyone who drove it amazing at driving.

ellie had zero faith in you though.

“you’d total that thing in five seconds. do you not remember the last time you tried to drive?”

her rude remark reminded you of the “raspberry incident”, as you called it, from last summer. you were at your grandmas in the countryside, her in the passenger of her big ass suburban trying to teach you to drive in the raspberry fields. you had been pushing a bit hard on the gas a few times, making her tell you to “calm down” , but you were a damn good driver as far as you saw. but it allll went downhill when she made you practice turning. you had turned around one of the rows of berries perfectly, and you were driving a bit too fast to the next corner. but somehow, you turned on the wrong angle and drove straight into the berries. and to make things worse, you kept pushing the gas pedal on accident instead of the brakes. your grandma screaming at you to stop didn’t help much either. you had torn down no more than 1/5 of the row, but nothing happened to the car. a trip to the carwash and it was like nothing ever happened.

“that was soooo long ago. you weren’t even there either! what if i was just over exaggerating when i told you and it wasn’t that bad?”

“you calling yourself a liar?” ellie took a sip of her slushy. the one she made you take this whole treacherous journey for. she was somehow still nursing hers, while yours was in a trash can five blocks back.

“never. how are you still drinking that thing? we’ve been walking for like half an hour!” you grab the drink out of her hand, taking a sip for a biiit too long.

“hey! you can’t even ask? i spent my hard earned money on that thing.“

“oh please, it was only like 3 dollars. you sound like joel right now.”

you both chuckled. ellies dad acted just like yours, that’s probably why they’re such best friends. that and the two dead wives thing, they had a lot in common. and coincidentally, so did you and ellie. you knew each other since you came out of the womb. well, since you came out. ellie was there three weeks before you, and she never let you forget it. constantly on her “respect your elders” bullshit every time you punched her in the arm for stealing your food. you two were fighting over the same toys and blabbering to each other since birth. your parents were convinced you were some baby geniuses that had developed your own language with how much you ‘spoke’ to each other. you two always understood each other.

“whatever dude, i’d be a driving master in that thing. it’d probably be a total chick magnet too. i’d be cleaning that backseat every day.”

ellie poked you in the side at your joke, and you both shoved each other while you laughed.

“yeah, you and your spongebob boxers are definitely soooo seductive.”

“you can’t say shit, you have the matching patrick pair!”

almost half your closet was either clothes you took from ellies house, or ones you bought to match with her. your dad has a whole photo album of old pictures he took of you and her in your matching outfits. and you have a bin in the attic stacked to the brim with your matching halloween costumes. the one matching thing the two of you never took off was your necklaces. it was one of those basic hearts, two pieces of silver that fit together perfectly with “best friends” and an infinity sign engraved on it. you had begged your dad for it while you were at a beach store, and he reluctantly gave in. you had the ‘st ends’ side, and ellie had the ‘be fri’ one. no matter the occasion, even with the excessive amount of necklaces you always wore, that one was always a part of the stack. and ellie only ever wore the one. in fact, the only jewelry she ever wore was the bracelets you two had made for each other and her necklace.

“hey, they’re comfy! i love those things.”

“you know what i’d love?”

“deez nuts in your mouth??”

you slapped ellie on the arm , and she grabbed it in pain.

“fuck you! you know im sensitive right now!!”

“you’ll live. ANYWAYS, i was talking about the car.”

“pssht, who wouldn’t. who leaves a perfect 288 on the side of the road for this long?” ellies inner car-nerd spilled out,eyebrows furrowing in question.

you and ellie had dreamed of that car ever since you were barely taller than the side doors. pretending to drive it when she came over to yours, leaning against it as you ate your ice cream and accidentally setting off the alarm, even peering in through the windows occasionally. the white envelope with a small bulge always intrigued the two of you, desperately wondering what was inside of it. you’d never seen anyone get in or out of it, and you were surprised it lasted this long on this street.

“why’re you still on this anyway? its not like we’re gonna just steal it or something.”

when you stare back at her for a bit too long, she sighs at you and rolls her eyes. your dumb ideas almost always end horribly, and she wasn’t in for all that this summer.

like last year, when you two were working at this big outdoor restaurant. you had somehow convinced her to drive around one of the golf carts, and it ended with you accidentally ramming it into some dudes car. you both quit to avoid the guy, and you’ve never been back since.

“well, why not! i mean really ellie, I’ve seen you break into joels truck before. you could do it.”

it was an isolated incident. she had locked herself out of the car, and she used a random hanger she found in the mall parking lot to squeeze through the crack in the window and unlock the door.

“thats not the same as stealing some random car!!what if the dude who owns it is some mean gangster and he finds out we took his car and he fucking kills us??? or what if its full of a bunch of illegal shit and we get arrested while we’re driving it?”

“since when do you care this much about shit like that? you convinced me to keep a lizard in my closet for three weeks once. plus, do you really think anyone’s gonna come looking for it? that things been there longer than we’ve been alive.”

“even if we do steal it, what if it doesn’t even run anymore? and if it does, are we just gonna hotwire it every time we wanna drive?”

ellie was sadly thinking logically about this , and you weren’t having it. the pout on your face was growing bigger and bigger, and you rolled your eyes at her.

“you’re so boring.”

“im not boring, you’re just insane and impulsive.”

“besides, where would we even hide it? neither of us have a garage or anything.”

“you ask too many questions. come onnnn, this could be our little sappy senior year memory!! even if it goes like, totally wrong and we get arrested or some shit.”

you and ellies high school experience was..lackluster at most. no crazy adventures, no parties, no insane hookups, nothing. every movie about highschool you two had watched had completely lied to you, because it was boring as fuck. i mean, probably not for everyone else, but definitely for you two. this car would be a saving grace for you two, it could top off senior year perfectly.

“your idea of a great senior year memory is grand theft auto?”

“i mean, the games awesome. why not?”

she chuckled a bit at your bad joke, leaving a smile on your face. everything in her was telling her it was an awful idea, but you were giving her your most convincing puppy dog eyes, hands under your chin pleading to her.

you were amazing at persuading her, and the way your eyes practically sparkled when you spoke of even the mere idea of it sent her to the stars. how could she say no to you?

“…let me think about it.”

“WOOOO”

for ellie, ‘let me think about it’ was almost always code for yes. especially when it came to you. the two of you walked back to your house, ellie finally finishing her slushy. she chucked it in your garbage can before leaving you at your door. you tried to hug her goodbye, but she pushed you away.

“lobster skin. it still hurts. youll probably wanna hug me more tomorrow.”

and the next day, at 8:30, ellie showed up at your window with a toolbox smelling like aloe vera.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Do you know much about historical cuisine? Saw yet another anime with friends and they went the whole 'modern food always tastes better' bit. I feel tired of the trope and am wondering how different historical cuisine would taste compared to modern times. So anything you happen to know as a historian would be cool to know!

That varies MASSIVELY based on time and location. Like. Much more than fashion does, even, I'd imagine (in a given sub-region- I can talk about Mainstream European and Euro-American Fashion of the 19th CenturyTM but the food was so different in different countries that were dressing the same, if that makes sense? just as an example).

Food is often more globalized in a lot of places nowadays, so the characters might have more diversity of flavors from the regional norm than they're used to. But this could be a good or a bad thing- a woman from 17th-century Japan might love pizza and much sweeter Western pastries, or she might absolutely hate them. Which is not to say regional cuisines haven't evolved, too- a museum here in Boston used to have tastings of 18th-century-style hot chocolate, and it was very different from the modern sort. But that's the largest blanket difference across the globe that I can think of, food-wise.

Not sure what anime this was, so it could have been Japan-specific, but I feel like this gets applied the most to the 19th-mid 20th century UK and United States. The whole Captain America line about "food's better; we used to boil everything," for example, and the general belief that everything was bland mush in those areas until the 1950s and then it was incomprehensible Jell-O mold horrors until approximately the 1980s. And of course, none of that's true- there were plenty of dishes that used spices and different cooking methods, many of which are still popular today. See also: Jonathan Harker, a Normal 1890s Englishman, getting so rhapsodical about paprikahendl that he simply must have the recipe for his fiancee to make. There also WERE bland mushes and fluorescent nightmares, but there's less than ideal food today, as well.

(Note that I'm much less confident talking about the whole English StodgeTM thing as we get into the 20th century. That is outside my history wheelhouse and there's a lot of different stuff embroiled in it relating to class and such that I don't want to talk out my ass about. All I know is that I've seen plenty of recipes from as late as the end of the 19th century, from England and some from urban Scotland if I recall correctly, that made ample use of spices. Nutmeg, mustard, black pepper, rosemary, caraway, and cayenne pepper were especially popular (not all together obviously). There was a belief among the middle and upper classes that strong flavors of garlic and onion were distasteful to ladies, but the fact that cookbooks and such feel the need to mention it implies that those elements WERE being used in cooking generally, in the UK, at that time. So wherever the idea that All British Food Is Beige And Tasteless came from, it wasn't mainstream late Victorian cooking for adults as far as I can tell)

(They gave kids a fair amount of the beige and tasteless because they believed their digestive systems couldn't handle strongly-flavored- okay now I'm getting off topic. Read Ruth Goodman's "How To Be A Victorian." Anyway!)

tl;dr- The answer to "is modern food better?" is "that's literally impossible to answer as a blanket statement, since it's massively dependent on the character's original time, place, social status, and personal taste- and where they end up in the present, of course."

Now, I do agree that the trope is annoying the same way every single princess being totally shocked and appalled when her marriage is arranged gets annoying- not because it can't be true based on history and human behavior, but because fiction treats it as some kind of universal precept. Mix it up a little sometimes! Have a Regency character who comes to the present, finds out that her favorite local cheese isn't being made anymore, and loses her entire mind!

[sirianasims]

The Don Diaries

Don's parents can tell their son is struggling, so Nicolo invites Don out for a father-son talk. Don vents a bit and Nicolo tries to be supportive.

These two random ladies take a keen interest in the game. Why is chess a spectator sport?!

Nicolo: I know you got her pregnant, but are you sure she's the right woman for you? Random ladies: OH WOW this is a very interesting game of chess!

We ignore the spectators, and Don outright asks Nicolo what he thinks of Gina. But Nicolo is too smart to actually say what he really thinks, so he just responds that Gina seems "pretty cool". High praise for the mother of your grandchild, Nicolo. Not even the random ladies are buying it.

Nicolo leaves and Don takes a walk around the park.

Meanwhile, I get distracted by this terrible Johnny Zest impersonator teaching his cat to do push-ups.

Don checks out a wedding arc and considers the option of actually marrying Gina. Aaaaand it's still a hard no.

However, it is Love Day, so we better at least take Gina out on a nice date, right? And just hope she doesn't expect it to be the stage for some sort of proposal.

ADRIANA STOP STALKING YOUR SON

We manage to order, but this waitress in booty shorts drops the food. This of course enrages Gina and the date is not going well.

Don valiantly attempts to lighten the mood, but Gina insists on being a fucking wet blanket.

I send them home after yet another disappointing date, getting distracted on the way by this absolute unit of a teenager. His name is Dusty Huggins and I really need to know what exactly his shirt is tucked in to.

Back home, we leave Don to process his feelings in a healthy way while Gina goes to bed early.

[wintervalewritersecond]

tears to shed - simon 'ghost' riley

masterlist // masterlist call of duty

requested: no, but requests are OPEN! request: x

A/N: i have been thinking of this AU for a while now! i dont know why or how, maybe because of the skull mask he has on, or maybe just because i love both media, but alas, here it is! going to be multiple parts i think...

part one // part two // part three // part four

wordcount: 2,366 warnings: ooc simon, corpse bride au, she/her reader

An arranged marriage to unite two worlds. But no one would have expected that it would bring together the living and the dead.

"I do not want to see that pout again! We have gone over this, you are to wed mister MacTavish, whether you like it or not!"

Yes. Yes, we have gone over this. Quite frankly, it is all that you have heard about for the last few weeks. Your family finally had the chance to climb the social ladder, claiming their spot that 'is rightfully theirs'. The MacTavish family is one of the highest ranking families with a son that your parents deem perfect for you.

Perfect, as in, for them. A high rank, society looking up to you, and all that for the small price of marrying out their only daughter.

"Besides, with a face like yours, who else would marry you? Anne, tighten her corset! I can nearly hear her breathe."

Anne, your maid, looks at you as she furrows her eyebrows, slightly tightening the corset as you breathe in. God, can this already be over?

A carriage is driven in front of your doorstep, ready to bring you to the huge MacTavish mansion. Your mother seems like she could not be happier as your father only trails behind her.

"Oh, I can not wait for our daughter to be married! We will finally be where we should have been from the very start!"

"This is only a rehearsal, my dear."

"Oh, nonsense! This wedding will happen, whether you like it or not! This time tomorrow, we will be the talk of the town!"

In an attempt to ignore them, you already enter the carriage, pulling on your gloves as you lean your head on the small window. Your mother huffs, climbing into the carriage as well before your father comes in, closing the door behind him.

"Now, come on! We don't have all day. Shepherd!"

The old man grunts, pulling the reigns as the horses taking off. It takes only a few seconds before your mother taps you with her fan.

"I can see you thinking! Whatever plan of escaping you have, you better forget. Everything has to go according to plan, Y/N! This life we have lived up till now is something not fit for us. We are rich, and this marriage will only mean good for us. Oh, can't you just see it?" She looks over at your father, "We will have balls! Oh, can you just imagine? Dancing, and goodness, people will be coming over for tea!"

You wonder how it was going in the MacTavish home now. Were his parents also lecturing him on everything? Were they tying his tie so tightly so that he can barely breathe? Or maybe his parents were actually quite sweet.

Before you knew it, the carriage already comes to a stop, the huge mansion in front of you. It is even more terrifying as you remember. Sure, you knew their home would be bigger than yours, but this is nearly a castle. You breathe in deeply - well, as deep as you can with the tight corset - before exiting the carriage after your parents.

Your mother pulls you behind her and up the stairs that lead to the tall doors. How will these even be opened? They are five times as tall as you and they must be so heavy. Your mother roughly turns you around, tugging on your dress and hair to make sure it looks absolutely perfect before the door opens.

"Oh, goodness! What an impeccable taste," your mother mumbles to herself, looking around as you just trail behind, "So grand!"

In front of you stand two tall figures.

"Lord and Lady MacTavish," the butler gives your family a side-eye before stepping back.

"Ah, you must be mister John MacTavish. I have to say, you do not look a day over twenty!"

Can your mother be more idiotic? Your father tugs her arm, shaking his head before coughing.

"Well," Lady MacTavish raises one eyebrow, "We will be taking tea in the drawing room. Follow me."

The Lord and Lady already walk off, your parents trailing behind them as your mom keeps muttering random compliments. Something else catches your eye though.

A piano.

A grand piano at that. It is cleaned so well that it seems to reflect anything in its path. You wish you were allowed to play piano at home, but your mother always insisted that it was simply not fit for you. There is more important stuff to do, such as pushing yourself into the smallest corset just to appeal to others.

Your fingers float over the keys as you slowly sit down. The door to the drawing room was already shut, they wouldn't hear you, right? You slowly press the different keys. Gosh, it feels good to finally play the piano again. It was a small secret between you and your father - only playing the instrument if your mother was not home.

Johnny was running late. His parents will kill him. They had warned him so many times that he should have been on time, yet here he is, still trying to tie his tie. After multiple tries, he finally gets it, rushing out of his room and down the stairs. But, before he can even get out of his hallway, he is met with the soft notes of a piano. The piano actually being played in this house?

He is met with you as you still softly play, not even noticing the man at the top of the stairs. Were you Miss Y/L/N? He walks down the steps, slowly making his way over to the piano. You are still sat on the little stool, not even noticing the figure behind you until you see a shadow towering over you. You yelp, quickly standing up before pushing the seat back in its original place.

"I am so sorry! Please, excuse me."

The man shakes his head, laughing.

"Hey, no need for that. You play beautifully. I wish I possessed that talent."

"Oh, it is nothing," you let out a deep breath, smiling at him. "My mother does not quite like my playing. Says it is improper for a lady."

"Nonsense," Johnny sits down on the little stool, gesturing for you to sit down as well. "If anything, you should never stop playing. You truly have a talent for it, miss Y/L/N."

It is quiet for a bit, just the two of you sitting together, both not knowing what to say.

"So... We are to be wed tomorrow."

"So it is, mister MacTavish."

"Oh, no, call me John. Or Johnny, both is okay. Considering the circumstances, I think it will do."

"All right, that is, if you call me Y/N."

He does not have time to respond as his mother comes rushing out of the drawing room, visibly mad.

"What is this?! How improper. You shouldn't be alone together! The rehearsal starts in one minute! Come, at once!"

Time goes as slow as it could. In front of the group stands a tall man, trying to guide everyone through the rehearsal as you fight to not fall asleep. His voice is almost as boring as his appearance, and nothing about this entire situation makes you feel happy. You are not even allowed to sit directly next to Johnny, not to mention that both of you just could not keep to the script.

"Okay... Again," the old man groans, nearly wanting to rip the book that he is holding apart, "Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine."

"With this candle," Johnny begins, but quickly gets cut off.

"Mister MacTavish, first repeat the other sentence," the old man shakes his head, dropping the book on the table. "First the cup, then the wine, then the candle. Let's try it again..."

You quickly glance back, seeing multiple disappointed faces looking back at you. The doorbell rings, Lord MacTavish quickly waving the butler away to open up the door.

"How about you, miss Y/N?"

"Yeah," you quietly mumble, taking hold of the candle. All that you have to do is make it lit up and make sure the flame stays on the entirety of the speech. "I, uh... I use this candle..."

"With this candle, miss Y/N."

"Oh, it seems that I am early."

Both you and Johnny turn around, seeing the visitor that knocked on the door earlier. A woman, one dressed in a neat and fashionable gown, stands in the middle of the aisle.

"Is she from our family?" Your mother whispers to your father, but he only shrugs in response.

"A seat for Miss Graves, please."

What an odd name.

"Oh, please. Do carry on."

"Right... Let us try this. Again."

"With this hand," Mister MacTavish takes hold of your hand, holding the candlestick in his other. "I will..."

He bumps into the table in front of him, everything on it shaking and nearly falling over as the old man starts yelling yet again.

"Three steps! Can you not count?"

You look over at Johnny before looking back at the man.

"I am sure that he can, sir."

The man mumbles something under his breath, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Did he even remember to bring the rings?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Johnny fumbles with his pocket, trying to fish out the small bands, but while doing so, he accidentally elbows you, making you drop the candle. Oh, no.

The candle rolls away from you, much too fast for you to catch it, the dress of Lady MacTavish slowly catching fire.

"Lady MacTavish!"

You quickly hurry over, stomping on her dress in a weak attempt to get rid of the flames. It does not take long for the butler to return with a bucket of water, emptying the contents over the fire and you.

"Enough!"

The tall man stands up even straighter, towering over everyone in the room.

"This wedding can not take place until both of them are properly prepared. Both of you, learn your vows."

He nearly pushes his pointer finger in your eye as you nervously look from him, to your parents, to Johnny's parents. The young man quickly pushes open the door, hurrying out as you follow behind him. He is, however, much too fast, almost running up the stairs, but not before accidentally dropping something from his pocket.

His ring.

You quickly scoop it up, holding it close before rushing out of the house. You need to be away from this place, if even just for a moment. The ring will be safe in your possession, so hopefully Johnny will not get in any more trouble if he fully loses it. The band is much too big to fit your fingers, it has to be the one belonging to Johnny. Either that, or they were really bad at measuring your rings.

"They must think I am a fool," you groan, slowly walking up to the bridge, shaking your head. "I mean, what did I even think? I set her dress on fire!"

You twirl the ring around in your fingers, crossing the bridge, the woods in front of you.

"Not only that, but I can not even seem to remember the stupid vows. It is just a couple of sentences!"

The next fifteen minutes are spent trying to go over the same vows again and again. At one point, you weren't even sure anymore if the words you were speaking even existed. You decided to sit down on a fallen tree, leaning against it as you twirled the ring in between your fingers again.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine," you whisper, looking at one of the branches right next to you. "With this candle I will light your way into the darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

You slip the ring onto the branch, huffing as you lean back even more. Mud and sand are staining your dress now, but as you look over at the ring again to take if off of the stick, something grabs your wrist.

A yelp leaves your lips as you try and pull your arm back, but it seems like the branches have wrapped themselves around your wrists. It nearly pulls you down into the ground before you fall backwards.

"Ouch!"

You shake your head, looking up, but you still feel the grip around your arm. On it are bones, a hand, still gripping you.

"Oh my God!"

A figure rises from the sand, clawing at the dirt as it slowly stands up, dirt and leaves falling from its shoulders. On their face, a skull, though quite obviously a mask. He is missing his left arm - is that what gripped you?

"I do."

He does? What does he do? You glance down, the ring that you put onto the branch now around its bony finger. No.

No.

Another scream leaves your body as you hurry to scramble up, running as fast as you can with the dress you are wearing. The ground is uneven and it is dark, but the figure does not seem fazed. You rush, leaves and branches hitting you in the face and hooking onto your clothing. Do you dare to look back? Once you do, you see the figure catching up to you, its arm now attached to its body again.

You reach the bridge, your breathing heavy as you almost rip the corset off of your body. Why did your mother insist on tightlacing it? Well, you had not expected on having to run through the woods. Is it gone? You look back to the woods, the figure seemingly gone as you let out a relieved sigh. You take a few steps back, but immediately stop when you feel that you bump into something. Slowly turning around, you are met with someone's chest.

Its the figure.

He looks down at you, his eyes peeking out from the mask. He is wearing a clean suit, a white flower in his pocket, and the ring around his fingers.

"I have to say, that is one hell of a way to ask me to marry you, love."

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Evelyn Nesbit (A Fallen Idol)—not sure if this is what you’re looking for in terms of text propaganda, but there was a brief moment in my middle school days when I was obsessed with Evelyn Nesbit. I had seen a local production of Ragtime, and she was the only historical character I had never heard of, so I had to know more about her. my reaction when I found her portraits is on the list of times I should have realized I was attracted to women. she was supposed to have been portrayed by Marilyn Monroe, but the role ended up going to Joan Collins. and how can you not vote for the hot vintage lady who was so iconic as to be portrayed by another hot vintage lady? that’s all I have to say really. vote Evelyn.

Mary Pickford (Coquette, Tess of the Storm Country)—She was a pioneer in early cinema! She acted, wrote, and produced numerous films and was one of the founders of the United Artists film studio, along with Charlie Chaplin and her husband, Doug Fairbanks. At the height of her career in the 1920s there was nobody more famous. She was widely known as "America's Sweetheart." She won an Oscar in 1929 for her performance in Coquette (1929) and then a lifetime achievement Oscar in 1979.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman. (remember that our poll era starts in 1910, so please don't use propaganda from before that date.)

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Evelyn Nesbit propaganda:

Mary Pickford:

Mary Pickford wasn't just a silent star, she was a huge historical figure for film. I really cannot emphasize how involved she was in creating and shaping the film world. She was completely passionate about the theater world (from a young age!) and still revered even after she lost relevance. Her tenacity, her beauty, and her intelligence is what made her the first actress labeled as "America's Sweetheart." She just has this glow, a wonderful sweet disposition, and warm heart. She often introduced other women to motion picture and helped them showcase their talent. She was an astute business woman, although when asked about this she said "Well you know this business angle is much exaggerated, because most people don't expect much sense of a woman 5 feet tall. If I were 5 feet 8 they would say I was a very poor business woman!" She was friends with Amelia Earheart and had terrible luck in love. Please just learn about or give thought to my sad small sweet girl.

She was an absolute pioneer in the very early days of feature films. She co-founded United artists and managed her career brilliantly.

"America’s Sweetheart”, “Queen of Hollywood”, her and Douglas Fairbanks were the og it couple, owned her own movie studio, had both a drink and a hairstyle named after her

[tonicandjins]

23 moments with donghyuck

in honor of donghyuck's twenty-third birthday, i present to you,

23 moments with donghyuck

if walls could talk

➼ The first mission with the notorious Lee Donghyuck involved looking for the hoodlums who attacked Na Jaemin during his trip to Beijing. | mafia au

amortentia (the room smells like absolute shit)

➼ The room smells like the Quidditch pitch when you arrive fifteen minutes into the class. | harry potter au

frequent flyers

➼ Donghyuck looks enthralling like this: beautiful even after all these years, charming like he’s the day he turned 21, grown, earnest, and at ease. It’s agonizing to look at from where you sit across the room—hands wrapped around her waist, eyes closing as he leans in, drunk, drunk, drunk like the night you’d left him, heart void of you.

all of the girls you loved before

➼ “Lee Naeun, Kim Haerin, Im Jieun, Lee Naeun again, then Park Yesol,” you enumerate. “You were a ladies’ man!” | all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift au

"it's swowwen."

➼ You find yourself running from your unit’s floor down to the main entrance. Donghyuck needs to be taken care of today, and with Dream’s schedule, none of the managers will be available to tend to him today, which is why they ended up deciding to send him to your apartment for the day.

the first time (coming soon)

smoke in your lungs (coming soon)

that one afternoon in jeju (coming soon)

lights, camera, lee donghyuck (coming soon)

➼ It’s a universally known truth that successful empires come from humble beginnings. In interviews, Donghyuck's grandfather talks about hard work and creating your own vision, which he says he’d learned from his parents who learned it from their parents. He emphasizes the importance of ethics in business and networking, expanding one’s territory by partnership. He brags about working at a young age, getting a degree and an MBA, and how he’d imposed and required higher education for his own children. What he doesn’t talk about is all the arranged marriages the entire Lee bloodline had signed up for—had committed to—to keep the entire expanding like the fucking universe. It just keeps going; there’s no stopping.

starbucks lovers (coming soon)

before the coffee gets cold (coming soon)

i don't wanna be your friend (i wanna kiss your neck) (coming soon)

outer space (coming soon)

[austenhowe]

HEAR ME OUT cressida hc and creloise persuasion brainrot

•cressida secretly plays violin (she's quite good at it; she learned during summers with a distant aunt; period-typical belief of violin played by women = lesbianism (something something about a violin resembling a woman's body and voice); she stopped playing a year or so before her debut when her distant aunt passes away (was caught by her parents playing the instrument once at their own home and the pressure to marry her off immediately increases due to this "queer" talent/inclination)

•angst, mutual pining, misunderstanding, resentment, and some unhinged bridgerton family shenanigans for levity

maybe slightly canon divergent or fully canon divergent idk and idc (I have never and will never read the books) where she pretends to be lady whistledown and whistledown outs her as an imposter and is somehow implied as a lesbian (implied that her relationship with eloise was purely for predatory reasons)

penelope is pissed about her claiming her mantle and also understandably does not have a very high opinion of cressida so a misunderstanding is perpetuated when eloise goes to penelope crying about their "friendship" break-up; maybe cressida tries to make a move and eloise, trying to make sense of what happened, somehow leads penelope to believe that cressida had nothing but predatory intentions (unfortunately, period-typical homophobia is up in here for the plot eugh)

cressida is ruined and forced out of polite society and somehow ends up being commissioned by the queen (queen charlotte is an ALLY, okay?) as a royal violinist ? (I'm making shit up, it's for plot and hc reasons, stay with me here)

ANYWAY, years pass and she makes a name for herself, gets her freedom and her bag (I imagine she branches out of the fashion of polite society and starts experimenting with her presentation 'cause fuck everybody else) and maybe gets an official title from the queen (idk how those work but let's suspend our disbelief here)

so she makes her return to polite society after having been given a formal rank/title and cue her reunion with the bridgertons; she, of course, keeps a wide berth from eloise (due to her self-loathing and her fear of being perceived as monstrous and predatory once again)

the whole bridgerton clan is in town for the season to show a united front and show support to one of the younger ones (either gregory's or hyacinth's turn I don't care which), they attend a concerto where the featured performer is one cressida cowper (this of course attracts a HUGE crowd eager to witness her return from having fallen into disgrace just over half a decade past)

the performance is of course stunning and one of the bridgertons approach (possibly, benedict or francesca) to give their compliments and get a re-introduction (for eloise's sake ofc, she's been angsting and pining for as long as cressida has) and also of course to give an invitation to their house for tea

cue eloise pining from afar while cressida resolutely avoids her gaze (she'll fold so fast if she sees the look eloise gives her; she doesn't blame her for her misfortune (eloise blames herself for that of course)

cressida still loves her but she's been burned once and maybe she IS slightly resentful (she won't entertain even the thought of once again imposing her suit on eloise)

eloise on the other hand is resigned to her solitude (she fumbled her love match and she thinks that cressida's regard cannot be regained after having been violently exiled from society as a result of her blindness and carelessness with her words/actions)

the entire bridgerton family, on the other hand, will be doing their absolute best at scheming to get these two pining idiots together (just imagine pure comedy and catharsis from all the angsting and pining! they deserve absolute happiness goddamnit!!)

they tentatively rekindle their friendship and work towards something more and of course at the end they get their happily ever after (they become wives, have an estate, and they THOROUGHLY and UNHINGEDLY make up for lost time)

--essentially, this is persuasion (1995) where cressida is a bit like captain wentworth and eloise will be a bit like anne elliot, still privileged but a bit more subdued and a bit more practical in her spinsterhood

some banger lines from persuasion (1995): "Miss Elliot, I can bear this no longer. You pierce my soul. I'm half agony, half hope. Unjust I may have been. Weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it eight years ago." // "I believe you capable of everything great and good. So long as, if I may, so long as the woman you love lives - and lives for you. All the privilege I claim for my own sex - and it is not very enviable one, you need not covet it - is that of loving longest when all hope is gone."

actually, throw in the whole letter captain wentworth wrote in here

they keep using jane austen's works as references these past two seasons so might as well give creloise persuasion (my beloved)

not a writer so I'm never gonna write this, it's just stuck in my brain so I had to get it out 😭, blame the show for getting me to listen to violin and piano covers for the past week; my imagination while listening to these covers ran away from me

p.s. in my head, it's the violin and piano cover of interstellar that gets the queen to basically bankroll cressida's violin career (images of the heaven and the earth along with all other space imagery that theme evokes and whatnot); also, piano and violin covers of lovely by billie eilish, such great heights by the postal service, and arcade by duncan laurence (my beloveds)

p.p.s. I know they won't be endgame but unfortunately my mind has latched on to this ship so please take this brain worm off my hands

[secondhand-snow]

Imagine Logan Roy having a stepdaughter, just a couple of years younger than Roman, and who's tried to stay away from all the family drama while having a secret affair with Mencken, and then one of the Roy siblings finds out about it and tells Logan, but in a "let's marry her off to him and get us a first Lady in the family" as a way of securing more power for the clan.

love this idea so much, apologies for the delayed response! ♡

sfw | semi-dark content? | jeryd mencken x f!reader (succession)

Somehow, it’s Roman that finds out first. You’d (stupidly) left your phone out on his desk when using the bathroom when a conspicuous message notification popped up on your screen. Rome couldn’t help his curiosity. He found a way to unlock the device using a photo of you on his desk. It only took a few moments for his eager fingers to open your text thread, scrolling through your history with vigor. In doing so, he unknowingly opened Pandora's box, unleashing its complexities onto the entirety of the Roy household.

“You know the future president of the United States? She’s fucking him!” Roman barely waited until the glass door to Logan’s office was shut before shouting, your phone held proudly above his head as he waved it in the air. You were hurrying after him, as fast as your business heels would allow, trying desperately to grab the device out of his hand before he could flash the screen to your step father.

“Wait- Mencken? She’s fucking Jeryd Mencken?!” Even Shiv’s tone was shocked at the news, her usual nonchalant demeanor compromised. Her gaze flicked between Kendall, who was standing with his mouth hung open, and Logan, who was sitting at his desk with his brow furrowed.

“Oh my God, Roman shut the fuck up!” Your voice was whiny and pitiful, the deep blush on your cheeks speaking for itself as you reached your brother, beginning to wrestle the phone out of his grip.

“Are you serious? Is- is this a joke, Rome? Are you… like- fucking with us?” Kendall moved to the two of you, attempting to separate the fight as he questioned you. 

“No, it’s not like that!” With a rough tug you managed to grab the phone from Roman, immediately checking to see how far he’d gotten in your messages. 

“Oh it’s absolutely like that! He was sending you the address of hotel rooms!!” 

“Romulus.” Logan’s voice breaks through the madness, causing an immediate stop to the bickering in the room. His attention turns to you. “Is this true? Have you been sleeping with Mencken?” 

You cross your arms over your chest, casting your gaze to your feet. You don’t respond.

“Oh my god-”

“You fucking-”

“I told you!! She-”

“It’s not like that though!” Your tone cuts through the chatter of your siblings, the volume  a little less than a yell. “It’s not even that bad. It’s not, like, an affair… It’s a relationship.”

“A relationship? What, does he buy you flowers and take you to dinner?” Shiv’s usual sarcasm is turned up incredibly high, her eyes cutting daggers through you as she speaks.

“I just mean- it’s not just hooking up. Okay?” You wave your hands sharply through the air before letting them fall to your sides, finishing your poor explanation. “And it’s not even like you need to know. This is my private life, it doesn’t affect you.”

“Tell that to Monica Lewinsky.” Kendall is standing with his arms crossed, eyes wide in disbelief as he stares down at his shoes. Logan shifts in his seat, one hand moving to push his glasses onto his nose, the other picking up the receiver of his phone.

“Put me through to Mencken.” Your step father speaks into the phone, directed at one of his assistants before placing it back down and pressing a button to turn on the speaker.

“Wait, Dad I-” Your attempt to stop Logan is given no merit, waved off with a quick motion of his hand as the line picks up.

“Mr. Roy, what a pleasant surprise.” Jeryd’s voice is as charismatic as ever, the mere sound of him causing you to subtly bite your lip in longing. “How can I help you?”

“Well, I’ve been recently informed on some of your, uh, extracurricular activities that may cause an issue with our endorsement of your campaign.” Logan pauses, brings a hand to his chin. 

“The support of ATN is incredibly valuable to the success of this campaign, I can assure you that I will take all necessary steps to ensure the health of this business relationship.”

“I do appreciate that, but I still have a question for you.” A cold shock goes down your spine as Logan takes a moment to breathe. “When were you going to tell me about your relationship with my step-daughter?”

“...”

“Now, the way I see it, you've begun an unauthorized association with a member of my highest corporate team. That in itself is ground for the termination of our endorsement. But more than that, you’ve started an affair that could be detrimental to your traditionalist image if leaked to the public.”

“Mr. Roy, I have gone to great lengths to ensure that my private life does not interfere with my professional image and public perception. I don’t see why this needs to end the mutual benefits of our contract-”

“Well, maybe I’m just upset that you fucked my daughter.”

“Dad!” Your tone is shocked at the vulgarity from your step father, volume loud enough for Jeryd to hear on the other line.

“So, I will give you two options, Mencken. Option one, we terminate our promotion of your campaign, almost certainly losing you the presidency, and you never see my stepdaughter again.”

“And option two?”

“Option two, you marry my stepdaughter, solidifying your partnership with Waystar and giving us a more direct route to support your political endeavors.” 

“Dad, you can’t be serious…” It’s a little pitiful how desperate your voice is. You move to stand at the front of his desk, Kendall moving with you to place a hand on your shoulder as you look at Logan. The expression on his face answers your question.

“Option two it is.”

“Wait, what?” Shiv speaks now, walking to stand near you with her arms crossed over her chest. “You can’t just… marry her off to someone. Arranged marriages are illegal in the U.S.”

“Forced marriages are illegal, Siobhan. Are you being forced, Mr. Mencken?” Logan knows he’s won now, his tone laced with that air of cockiness he’s prone to.

“No, sir.”

“And are you being forced?” He turns his head to you.

“I don’t…”

“You can stop this if you want to. You’ll just have to deal with the consequences of your choices.” That makes you stop, biting your lower lip in concentration. It’s a moment before you speak again.

“No, I’m not being forced.” With four words, you seal your fate.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll be in contact with you, Mencken.”

“Alright.”

When Logan hangs up the phone, it’s like the air in the room has gone stale. It’s a full thirty seconds before anyone even speaks, all of you standing there in a stunned silence. You’re actually the first one to move, stepping backwards, brushing past Kendall, to fall into one of the chairs before your dad’s desk. Your eyes are wide, your hands moving to your face and you lean forward, propping yourself up with your elbows on your thighs. 

While it’s a shock, the arrangement of marriage isn’t terrifying to you. You knew you liked Jeryd, maybe not loved, but at least the sex was good. You think you could put up with him as a husband. But being a first lady? Having your life displayed to the public more than it already is? That scared you. Your jaw clenches as the familiar ding of a text notification emits from your phone, the sound ringing through the silent room. 

You open the device to see a notification from Jeryd lighting up your text thread:

We’ll be okay.

© secondhand-snow 2024