#and it's for you guys that i never gave up on this story

[rafesbabygirlx]

can you do something with Rafe and a very naive reader who doesn’t know when a guy is flirting with her and she’s just super friendly? like rafe will get confrontational and possessive but he’s never mean to his girl because she doesn’t know any better and he drags her out of the bar angrily but then is super sweet to her and they have car sex and maybe like the guy walks by and sees them and Rafe smirks at him through the window.

Pleaseeeeeeeeeee??????

Oooooff YES

I feel like I might get a little carried away with this one (I just finished and yes... it is long lol)

𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝚋𝚏!𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐)

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The bar was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You were seated in a booth with Rafe, Kelce, Topper, and a few of your girlfriends, all of you were caught up in conversation, shouting over the music. Between stories and bursts of laughter, you finally glanced down and realized your glass was nearly empty.

Slipping away from the table, you made your way toward the bar, leaning in slightly to get the bartender’s attention.

“Vodka soda, please,” you ordered.

As you waited, you felt someone step up beside you. You turned slightly and saw a tall brunette guy—broad shoulders, sharp features, a confident stance.

“You here with anyone?” he asked casually, his voice smooth but loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah,” you nodded, gesturing over my shoulder toward my group. 

You didn’t think anything of it, but he moved a little closer, resting his elbow on the bar. “Nice. You come here often?”

You shook my head. “Not really, just whenever my friends want to. What about you?”

“Every now and then,” he shrugged. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“y/n.”

The bartender slid your drink over, and you picked it up, but you didn’t rush back to the table. Eric was easy to talk to, and after all, it was just casual conversation.

“So, y/n, what do you do?” he asked, taking a sip from his own drink.

“I’m a senior in college,” you said. “Studying fashion.”

His eyebrows lifted with interest. “That’s cool. So you’re into fashion?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

He smirked. “Alright, be honest—do I look like I know anything about fashion?”

You gave him a once-over, eyeing his fitted black t-shirt and well-worn jeans. “You’re doing alright,” you teased. “No major offenses.”

“Good to know. I’d hate to be a walking fashion crime.” He leaned in slightly. “So, what’s the dream job?”

You hesitated for a second, taking a sip of your drink. “Marketing for a fashion brand, something creative. I love the behind-the-scenes of campaigns and branding.”

“That actually sounds really interesting,” he said, nodding. “Ever thought about starting your own thing?”

“I mean, maybe one day,” you admitted. “I’d want to work somewhere first, really get the experience before diving into anything myself.”

“That’s smart.” He tilted his glass toward me. “To future success, then.”

I clinked my drink against his, smiling. “To future success.”

“y/n.”

The sound of my name in a familiar voice made me turn, and there was Rafe, standing just a few feet away, watching the conversation unfold. His expression was unreadable, but his sharp blue eyes were locked on Eric.

afe walked up behind you, placing a hand on your waist. "Oh hi, Rafey!" you greeted, wrapping your arm around his waist as he moved in close to you.

"And who's this?" Rafe asked, his tone even but laced with something unreadable.

"This is Eric," you said casually. "We just started talking. He's really nice. We should hang out with him."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, is he now?"

"Yeah, he is."

Rafe’s gaze didn’t shift from Eric as he spoke. "And what have you and my girlfriend been talking about exactly?"

Eric shifted uncomfortably under Rafe’s stare. "Look, man, she didn’t say she had a boyfriend."

Rafe let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, so it's her fault you're a creep?"

"Rafe, we were just talking, I don’t understand," you said, your grip around his waist tightening as you started to feel nervous.

But Rafe broke your hold, moving around to the other side of you, stepping directly in front of Eric. His presence alone made Eric take a step back.

"Listen, man," Rafe said, his voice low and firm. "I watched the whole interaction. You saw her with a group, you saw her ring, and you still thought you had a shot?" He leaned in slightly, his jaw tight. "Next time, when a girl gives you a polite response, take the hint and walk away."

Eric put his hands up. "Dude, I didn’t mean anything—"

"Did I say you could talk?" Rafe cut him off, his voice steady but dangerous.

Eric glanced between you and Rafe, clearly realizing he was outmatched. "Alright, man. Chill. I was just being friendly."

"Then be friendly somewhere else, before I make you regret it," Rafe said coldly, taking a step closer, forcing Eric to back away further.

Eric muttered something under his breath before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Then he looked down at you, his expression softening slightly. "You okay?"

You nodded, still processing the sudden shift in energy. "Yeah. Rafe, that was—"

"He was too close," Rafe interrupted, sliding an arm back around your waist protectively. "And I don’t like people thinking they can just walk up on you like that."

You sighed, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. "Let’s just go, okay?"

Rafe nodded, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head. "Yeah, let’s go."

With his arm still around you, he led you back through the bar, his grip just a little tighter than before.

Rafe tossed you gently into the back seat, sliding in right after you. His eyes were dark, filled with something unreadable.

"You're too sweet for your own good, baby," he murmured before crashing his lips against yours.

You pulled away slightly, breathless. "I don't know what you mean."

He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. "You see the good in everyone. So much so that you don’t even realize how he was coming onto you. I’m not mad at you, you don’t know any better, but he was taking advantage of your kindness. Thinking he could have you. Take you away from me."

You frowned. "No, Rafe, he wasn’t. He was just being nice."

You let out a small laugh, but Rafe’s hand was suddenly on your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. Your smile faded when you saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"See what I mean?" he muttered.

You swallowed. "No, Rafe, I don’t. Why can't someone just be nice?"

His jaw clenched. "It’s the actions, baby. He was no good."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Whatever you s—"

Before you could finish, Rafe leaned in again, kissing you deeply, possessively. His hands gripped your waist as if grounding himself in you.

"Show me who you belong to," he whispered against your lips, pushing you down to the car floor.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he unbuckles his pants. You stare up at him with those big sweet doe eyes of yours and grab a hold of him once he's free, peppering kisses on his tip. Rafe throws his head back once you lower your mouth on him.

"Fuck- just like that," he speaks through gritted teeth.

You bob your head up down, taking in as much of him as you can. He moans at how good you make him feel. But in a split second, the vision of - that guy- all over you pisses him off and he grabs the back of your head and begins to buck up his hips jamming himself into the back of your throat. He doesn't mean to take his anger out on you, his sweet girl, but that shit really pissed him off.

You gag on him and grip onto his thighs, trying to breathe through your nose as best you can. Rafe thrusts a few more times before releasing himself from your mouth. He lets you catch your breath for a second before lifting you back onto the seat and laying you down.

He bunches up your dress around your waist and pulls down your underwear, tossing them into the front seat. He puts his thumb in his mouth getting it wet and brings it to your clit, rubbing it softly. You buck up at the feeling but Rafe grabs your waist and pushes you back down.

"Baby, you are the sweetest girl I know," Rafe murmured while not letting up from your clit.

You moan at his sweet words.

"You mean everything to me. No man could ever take you away from me. You’re mine."

You find it hard to speak, but need to let him know. "Rafe, I’m always yours. You know that."

His grip on your waist tightened. "I know, but I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance. I love you too much for that."

You smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "I love you too. Always."

Rafe sighed, leaning down to you for a deep kiss. "Good. Because I don’t plan on ever letting you go."

He moves down and attaches his mouth to you. Swirling his tongue around your clit, replacing his finger. He then sucks on it and you put your arm over your mouth to let out a loud moan into it, considering you're in the middle of a parking lot. Rafe puts a stop to that quickly.

"Let me hear you, no one's around." He smirks up at you and you smile back.

He continues to eat you out before moving up and pushing his pants down more and lining up to your entrance. Wasting no time in wanting to be inside you. He slowly pushes in and you throw your head back into the leather seat. Rafe doesn't take a second to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into you.

He sets a relentless pace, his motivation- that asshole back in the bar and loving the way you squirm beneath him. After a few moments, there is chatter outside the car, you panic but Rafe doesn't let up. Someone comes by the window to the car next to Rafe's. You can't hold back your moans and go to move your hand, but Rafe pins both of them over your head.

Rafe notices that familiar face to be Eric. He's nosy and moves over to the window to see what the faint noises are. Rafe stares at him through it and smirks wickedly.

"Wanna come, sweet girl?"

"Yes," you cry out and let out a loud moan signaling your end.

Rafe continues to fuck you through your orgasm, finding his own coming deep inside you, all while that dipshit from inside stands and watches like the creep Rafe knew he was.

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[three--rings]

I had this one prof IN COLLEGE who was really old and tenured. He taught Psychology of Learning but he was stuck in the 60s on behaviorism and his big thing was he'd worked with BF Skinner on a study once. Like, put up a slide on the board going "here's a photo of me and Skinner!" And told us stories about all his animal experiments.

We had a big paper we could do on any theorist in the field and I chose someone I'd studied in another class. When he handed the paper back he handed it to me and he said "where did you find this guy?" and I said "I studied him in another class" and he said "oh, I've never heard of him."

And he gave me a C on the paper. Mostly because I cited using MLA style and not APA (I was an English major. He didn't say anything about it in the assignment! I was supposed to just know!) And I presume because he thought I picked some random nutjob to talk about.

But then I checked, and this guy and his theories of learning were MENTIONED IN THE TEXTBOOK FOR OUR CLASS. Yanno, the book he was supposed to be teaching but which I'm pretty sure he'd never touched.

when i was a kid i got a 90% on my kindergarten "what are your favorite things?" test because for the question "what is your favorite animal?" i wrote down "puma" and it got marked wrong because my teacher said a puma isnt even an animal its a kind of shoe

[simonsrileyhusband]

Hello, I was wondering if you could write Simon x male reader, and i have this very specific story in mind

Simon who is kinda arrogant or whatever you call it, constantly trying to one up the reader, clingy, obnoxious but in love with the reader, flirting and shit but the reader at first doesn't return the feelings. Then at some point they bang and instead of the whole obnoxious "told you I'd fuck you good" Simon is more sentimental type, being so happy to finally have the reader.

Can you see the vision?

If not feel free to ignore this!

nsfw

you are not sure how you ended up in your bed with simon on top of you, shirtless, whining as he grinds on you, kissing down your neck and whispering how much he needed you, how much he wanted this.

ghost has always been flirty with you, always making suggestive jokes or remarks, trying to get a reaction out of you. but you never gave in, thinking he was like that with everyone, or thinking it was just that, a joke.

a few months ago, after a long mission a tipsy simon tried to flirt with you.

"hello doll, come here often?" i says leaning down to speak with you.

"no, this is my first time here." simon is handsome, everyone that looks st him knows it, sharp edges on his jaw, strong nose, big brows, cobered with small scars. he is handsome, and he knows it.

"mhm, new in town. would you like me to show you around? i have a nice bike."

"does that often work?"

"you have no idea... would you like to ride me?" you cant help but roll your eyes, even when his comment had an effect on you. your hand pushes him away.

"mhm, not really, im fine." you say before walking back to the table were the rest of the 141 was sitting, you can hear simon groan and order another drink.

and it happened again and again, indecent offering every single time he could. you blushed, pushed him away, say no and forget about it until next day.

but tonight was different, maybe the mission was too long, maybe you needed more rest to think straight. but simon looked way too good on that black shirt, a simple black button up with the sleeves rolled up.

maybe it was the way he laughed with the cup of whiskey raised to his lips. maybe it was the fact that you saw him covered in blood a few nights before, ripping a man apart that dared to try and harm you.

either way, you found yourself biting down on your lip and rubbing your thighs together at the sound of his low and husky voice.

"did you come alone, angel?" he asks, one hand on either side of you, caging you in the bar.

"no, i came with my friends." you say turning around, simons big body hulking over you, making you invisible for anyone that walked by.

"and where are they? they cant leave a cute birdie like you all alone..." he whispers leaning down.

"im fine, really. my friend simon takes care of me." you speak trying to hold back a smirk, your cheeks a bit blushed.

"oh, does he?"

"he does..."

"and is that simon guy handsome?"

"maybe... a bit"

"mhm" he chuckles and leans in to whisper in your ear "hi lovie... want me to drive you home? i only charge with a fun time"

"yeah" you mumble. simon pulls back, looking at you shoocked.

"w-what?" he asks blinking rapidly.

"yeah, take me home... ill pay" you whisper, a bit shyly.

his breath get heavier and he nods, walking to the table to grab his helmet and phone.

the drive to your apartment was quick, not a lot of people were out that night. you could feel how tense he was when you pressed your chest against his back, your hands rubbing his legs and squeezing his hands when they came to yours on the red lights.

"thanks, thanks... fuck, thank you" he whispers, his dick buried deep inside of you, your lips swollen from how much he kissed you.

"you are so pretty, so so pretty" he whines, rubbing your sides softly. his whole act falling down the moment you gave in, his facade crumbling at every moan and whimper you let out.

"fuck, love... ill make you feel good, ill make you feel so good."

[sweetbunpura]

Past Relationships.

I know Valentine's day is around the corner, but I couldn't resist the urge to write about Yuu's past relationships~

"Yuu."

The girl looked over at Epel as the first year group sat in the courtyard. The winter frost had started melting early as temperature started to rise allowing the gang to break out the lighter jackets today.

"You said you were in a couple of relationships in the past. What was the worst?"

"Really?" Ace looked at the farmer. "That's what you ask?"

"I mean, she said she's been in worse ones before!" Epel crossed his arms. "I was just curious."

"It's fine, it's fine." Yuu waved her hand and hummed as she tried to remember. "I think I was like either thirteen or fourteen at time, I kinda blotted the guy's name from my memory. Probably Brad or some other boring shitty name. Uh, he was part of the basketball team and he asked me out on a date."

"You said yes?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"I was young, sue me." She shrugged. "Anyway, he took me out on a movie date and a couple of other dates until we officially announced we were dating."

"There's a "but" in there." Deuce pointed out.

"You are correct. A week or two later, he starts acting really shitty. I'm talking calling me names and talking me down and shit. Calling me ugly and how I should be lucky he gave me a chance at all." She scoffs. "He even said I was pretty for a black girl, can you believe that shit? He even tried getting money out of me, saying how he was entitled to some of it since I was his boyfriend."

"He should be lucky he isn't here." Sebek crosses his arms with a glare.

"He wouldn't even last a day here. About a month into dating, he notices I'm not bending the knee to him, giving into his demands and everything. Basically, the emotional manipulation isn't working and so he tries to amp it up. By now, the whole school knows something was going on with me and him. I wasn't popular, but I was nice enough that people wanted me to be their friend." Yuu curled a strand of hair around her finger. "When the amped up manipulation doesn't work, he tries physically attacking me."

The boys eyes widen as they heard that and tensed up.

"Sevens, Yuu!" Deuce sat up. "What happened? Tell me you knocked this guy into next week!"

"I did. The moment he tried to punch me, I caught it and punched him in the face. He cried and held his face while he's on the ground, complaining that I broke his nose. He kicks at me and well.... I start swinging. Teachers had to pry me off of him and call my parents, big whole ass issue." She sighed.

"How did you manage to take all of that for a month?" Ortho blinks.

"Simple, I told my mom about everything he had done and she told me to write it down so she could gather evidence on it. But she also told me never to believe the lies someone like him spits out in order to drag me down. He didn't like how strong I was compared to him, so he tried to tear me down with words instead." She crossed her arms. "My dad and mom said I could only fight back if he throw the first punch, he did and he was swiftly put in his place. Come to find out it was all a dare one by his shitty teammates cause they dared him to ask me out and date me because they thought I wasn't attractive enough."

"What happened to the guy, Henchhuman?"

"The school and his family got sued, they tried to sue us instead but because of all the evidence and eye witnesses, they couldn't get away with it. That's the story, the end~"

"I see why he's the worst now." Epel muttered. "Almost regret asking. Wait... is that why you have issues with Ace ghosting that girl?"

"Can you stop bringing it up!?" Ace snapped.

"Honestly, yeah." Yuu fixed the red head with a glare. "But I've gone off on him about it."

"So..." Jack spoke up. "...Does he know?"

Everyone's eyes shifted over to see Leona walking down the hallway as he yawned. He was unaware of the eyes on him as he continued walking.

"I've told him everything and I had to stop him from shredding the bed." Yuu gave a soft smile. "Four relationships and this one is the golden one."

"...Wait four?"

"Story time's up boys!" She got to her feet. "Another time maybe."

[luvfae]

i love ur thanos stories, you wrote him so in character !! could you do a fanfic where he meets reader in the games and she’s kind of weird ? like she’s very calm and unfazed by everything and people avoid her because she asks strange questions and just seems to be in her own world completely ? i think the contrast of thanos being loud and himself with a reader with this personality would be cute :)

UNFAZED

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: typical squid game stuff, death, blood, swearing, dark humor.

The first time Thanos noticed you, he thought you were beautiful.

The second time, he thought you were insane.

It was during Red Light, Green Light. People were screaming, blood splattering the ground, bodies dropping like flies—and there you were, standing still, watching it all like it was mildly interesting.

He was running past you when he heard you mumble, “I wonder how many people have died in the exact spot we’re standing in.”

What the fuck?

He nearly tripped.

Who the hell thought about that in a situation like this? Most people were crying, praying, or pissing themselves. But you? You tilted your head, staring at the bloodied ground like you were considering something deeply philosophical.

Then the music played, and you walked forward, completely unbothered, hands in your pockets.

Thanos couldn’t stop looking at you.

When he finally made it to the finish line, panting and cursing, he turned his head—and there you were, still strolling like you had all the time in the world, like people weren’t being gunned down behind you.

When the last gunshot rang out, signaling the game was over, Thanos exhaled, shaking his head. But his eyes found you again, and for a brief moment, you locked eyes.

Then you smiled.

And Thanos—who never shut up, who always had something to say—just stood there, stunned, watching as you turned and walked away like none of this meant a damn thing to you.

Yeah.

He had to talk to you.

After Red Light, Green Light

People were avoiding you.

Not just steering clear, but actively avoiding you—whispering, sneaking glances, looking at you like you were something unnatural.

Which, honestly, wasn’t surprising.

Not after what you said.

Some guy had been crying over his dead friend, shaking his body, begging him to wake up. And you? You just crouched beside him, tilted your head, and said:

“It’s kind of poetic, don’t you think? He died reaching for the finish line but never made it. It’s like a metaphor for his whole life.”

The guy had turned white.

People started moving away from you immediately after that, muttering about how you were crazy or fucking cursed.

You didn’t mind. It gave you more space.

Ever intrigued, Thanos sauntered over and dropped down beside you, settling in like he’d known you forever. You barely acknowledged him, offering only a slow, dreamy smile—like you hadn’t just survived a massacre, like you weren’t trapped in a death game. Like none of this even phased you.

“So,” he said, smirking. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a fucked-up place like this?”

You blinked at him.

Then, completely serious, you said, “Did you know you can tell how long a body has been dead based on the color of the blood pooling in their limbs?”

Thanos stared.

What. The. Fuck.

You continued, tilting your head. “I was watching earlier. Some of them turned pale faster than others. Which means they probably had worse circulation before they died. It makes you wonder about their medical history.”

Thanos opened his mouth. Then closed it.

He had flirted with a lot of women in his life. And every single one of them—without fail—either blushed, giggled, or played along.

But you?

You were talking about corpse discoloration.

He had no idea how to respond to that.

“…Right.” He cleared his throat, regrouping. “Anyway, you’re cute. You should stick with me—I’ll keep you safe.”

You hummed. “You’re on drugs, aren’t you?”

Thanos choked.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I—I mean—” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “No.”

“I doubt that,” you said easily, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Your pupils are kind of weirdly dilated. And you’re talking fast. Stimulants, probably.”

Thanos didn’t know whether to be impressed or offended.

“I like you,” he decided. “You’re fun.”

You didn’t reply.

Thanos let out a laugh—sharp and amused, because he wasn’t used to being ignored, much less dismissed so easily.

“I’m Thanos,” he said, leaning in slightly, his usual confidence slipping back into place. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you replied, tilting your head. “And you?”

He blinked.

“Thanos. I just told you that.”

“Oh.” You shrugged, entirely unbothered. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Thanos stared at you, torn between laughing and being personally offended. Most people hung on his every word, eager for his attention, desperate to impress him. But you? You couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name.

He grinned.

“I think I love you,” he said, half-joking.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied easily, pulling your knees to your chest. “We’re in a life-or-death situation. Your emotions are probably just heightened due to adrenaline.”

Thanos let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You just blinked at him, as if the thought had never crossed your mind.

He studied you for a long moment, taking in the dreamy, far-off look in your eyes, the way you seemed almost bored despite the chaos surrounding you. He had met a lot of people in his life—liars, manipulators, people who pretended to be something they weren’t. But you?

You weren’t faking it.

You were just… like this.

Untouchable.

Unshaken.

Unfazed.

And fuck, he was fascinated.

“So, Y/N,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, eyes glinting with amusement. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

You hummed, considering. “The same thing as you, I suppose.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

You turned to look at him, your gaze slow and lazy, like you were looking straight through him.

“Surviving.”

Thanos couldn’t help the way his grin widened at your response, the sharpness in your tone only making him more intrigued. You didn’t say things like that to impress, or even to challenge. It was just… matter of fact. A simple observation that had him leaning in closer, drawn to that calm, detached confidence you wore like armor.

“Surviving, huh?” He repeated, more to himself than to you. “I like that answer.”

You didn’t smile back, but there was a small flicker in your eyes—a brief moment where it almost seemed like you might’ve been amused. He could see it, hidden just beneath the surface of that indifferent expression.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you said, voice matter-of-fact. “We’re all just waiting for our turn.”

His smile faded for a second. It wasn’t lost on him that you were right. No one in the game was truly safe. He couldn’t shake the idea that your calmness wasn’t just for show, though. You were waiting for your turn, but there was no fear in your eyes.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re too concerned about it,” he noted, crossing his arms. “Most people would be scared, running around like headless chickens. But you? You’re just… here.”

“You’re right,” you said softly, your voice still far too calm for the circumstances. “I guess I’m not scared. Not yet.”

Thanos tilted his head, studying you more closely now. “What’s your deal, huh? You’re not like everyone else in here.”

You blinked, giving him a look that could only be described as mildly curious. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

He shrugged, not exactly answering your question but also not denying it. “Maybe.”

You didn’t respond right away, but there was a beat of silence, a moment where the two of you were left alone in your own thoughts, the rest of the chaos going on around you completely irrelevant.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me,” you said after a while, almost absently. “I’m just aware of things… most people choose to ignore.”

“And what do you think they’re ignoring?”

“Their own mortality.” You leaned back against the cold wall, staring ahead. “Everyone acts like they’re invincible until they’re not. But me?” You looked at him then, your gaze cool but steady. “I’ve already accepted that I’m not. That’s why I don’t react. I don’t have time for it.”

Thanos blinked, the intensity of your words hitting him harder than he expected. He wasn’t sure why, but that calm, grounded air you had around you was starting to do something to him. It was like you were speaking a truth he hadn’t been ready to hear, or maybe didn’t even want to.

“You’re one strange person, Y/N,” he said with a half-smile, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or be genuinely intrigued by what you just said. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone like you before.”

You didn’t reply immediately, letting the silence hang between you two. But the corners of your mouth twitched, just for a second, like you almost wanted to laugh. Or maybe it was just another strange quirk he didn’t understand.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough, Thanos,” you finally said, using his name with that same strange casualness you used for everything. “Everyone does, eventually.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise, but Thanos found himself leaning forward slightly, captivated.

“Maybe,” he said, voice softening, his usual bravado slipping for just a moment. “But, uh, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily, are you?”

You glanced at him with that same blank expression, your eyes unreadable. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Thanos felt his pulse quicken, that feeling he got when things were starting to shift. There was something about you that got under his skin, something that made him want to figure you out—whether you wanted him to or not. You were like a puzzle, one he didn’t know how to solve, but hell if he wasn’t going to try.

“Good,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re gonna need someone to keep an eye on you, Y/N.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was for his own safety or hers, but for the first time since the game started, he wasn’t thinking about the other players or how to win. All he cared about was you—this strange, unfazed person who didn’t blink at the carnage around her, but still somehow seemed to have a grip on what was really going on.

For now, though, Thanos would be your friend. But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before he tried to get closer.

He couldn’t stop himself.

[dellamortethelesser]

The Wigmaker Job

Notes and Thoughts - Part 3

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5

DISCLAIMER: These posts I'm doing are my own analyses and are done with the intentional eye to examine the relationship between Lucanis and Illario. I try to source all my assertions from what the text is giving me. This is not Lucanis critical nor should it be taken as such.

Going to be a shorter post today because I have things to do this morning!

Starting off strong in the next scene with me… loving on the fashion notes <3 So glad to know that we get stiletto heels clicking against cobblestone. Surely hoping that no magister twists their ankle and falls and breaks their fucking neck because their shoe got caught in a gap!

Also, velveteen is in? Someone who knows fabrics weigh in and tell me if that would be an appropriate material for the climate.

"So the Wigmaker. Tell me about him." / "He's weird." ← Lucanis goes on to say that he 'finds the moment before a job crucial for focus, but Illario was never one for comfortable silence'. To me, that beggars the explanation that the following passage is Illario goading him a bit.

I: "Specifics, cousin. No one hires us to kill normal people." L: "I gave you a dossier." I: "Yes, but I want your assessment." L: "I wrote it. It is my assessment." I: "Humor me." L: "You'll see soon enough."

There was a little bit of debate in my previous post about whether or not Illario actually read Lucanis's dossier. I don't think that the text supports that interpretation, but everyone is allowed to interpret what they want.

I'll argue that Illario has read the dossier: throughout the story up until this point, Illario has made comments about the job that implies he has SOME understanding of what they are doing—even going out of his way to make arrangements with a tailor so that he can be prepared for the part of the contract that Lucanis asked him to help with.

He knows that they need to be in Minrathous, at a party, facing a 'premiere wigmaker', and aware of the fact that they're up against Venatori. He knew they needed to be at a mansion and all of this comes up previous to this point when asking about Lucanis's assessment.

Additionally, asking for more clarification on something that someone else wrote is actually normal when the plan has clearly changed several times. Illario has increasingly expressed confusion on how the navigation is being handled, and, when asking for more information, is specifically asking after the Wigmaker himself, not the entire plan.

Also, the narrator is telling us that Lucanis prefers to be quiet while Illario likes to talk. It was pointed out to the me that this is close third POV, so why would the narrator bring that difference up, and not reference the idea that Illario has a tendency to not read documents?

(A few paragraphs later, while balancing on the rooftops, it's stated that 'At least Illario was too busy concentrating to ask questions'.) ← I wonder why he'd need to ask so many… I'm not trying to be snarky, but I am trying to make a point and using the text to support it. This also is NOT Lucanis crit and I'm worried some people are interpreting it as such.

The commentary from Lucanis about the previous Minrathous parties is insane btw. Retching vases? Acrobats? An orgy? No wonder they kept us in Dock Town in VG… (shakes fist)

First mention of Lucanis's sensitivity toward the Veil. "The backs of his eyeballs itched like he hadn't blinked in days". I think he says this primarily about blood magic at some point in VG? Which tracks and keeps up with WMJ.

"Something's wrong." / "Yeah. We're up here, away from the fun." ← insane of illario to say this i'm sorry. bro there are blood mages down there.

L: "Focus." I: "I am." L: "On the job." I: "To be fair, you never told me the plan."

You guys get it at this point. (That last sentence loops back up to my previous point… Illario has read the dossier. He knows the contract. He does NOT know how Lucanis is going to HANDLE it beyond what he's been asked to do re: getting Lucanis inside).

Lucanis shrugged. "Find Ambrose. Slit his throat." "Sounds complicated." "It will be. The Veil's thin here. Thinner than I expected."

Illario seems pretty fine with this explanation so I am not going to keep dragging it out. I do like how in-tune Lucanis seems to be with his abilities! I wish we could've seen more of that in VG; iirc he doesn't comment on the state of the Veil or magic very often?

This is the part of the story where we get to see their back-and-forth and how Illario is a bit of a rake! Which I personally enjoy. I love a manwhore (*said affectionately). Sorry.

"Plenty of time for some good, old-fashioned debauch—" I think he's funny. And maybe a bit distracted.

The narrator describes Ambrose as 'of average height and build' which is a description that pisses me off when fanfic does it and published works are not immune to my ire. What the hell is 'average'. That's so subjective.

The rest of the description is nice, though: hawkish gold eyes and a jaw that could break teeth. ← I know I said this was a breakdown of the brothercousin dynamic but I need to weigh in on other things sometimes. <3 Heart.

"They're never what you envision, are they?" Illario noted. "What did you expect?" "Hair, for one. Maybe a funny little dog." That got a chuckle out of Lucanis, if only briefly.

Stop being funny!!! I do like this banter back and forth because this feels like it's the least… leaden with underlying, complicated dynamics? I like it a lot and it feels natural for them.

Making notes on the fashion of the guard-captain. 'She wore an emerald gown with a high-waisted, low-tiered skirt and a fitted tulle bodice studded with champagne-colored crystals. Metallic body paint shimmered on her exposed arms and legs'. ← Fascinating.

It sounds like it might be a reference to the women's fashion from the Tevinter concept art. Bit gaudy.

Also it's described as silk-brocade. AGAIN PEOPLE WHO KNOW FABRICS WEIGH IN.

[shrek meme] she's not even wearing velveteen.

Lucanis "I need those keys" Dellamorte and Illario "your wish is my command, cousin" Dellamorte you will always be famous to me. Also it says that Illario 'flipped forward' which . why are we doing all that

Quotes are either paraphrased or taken directly from The Wigmaker Job, written by Courtney Woods.

[w2mini]

RED MEANS TAKEN DUMMY! atsumu x reader

-happy valentines 𓂃۶ৎ warnings: reader is reserved, swearings, black cat x golden retriever (I'm never getting tired of this trope for atsumu) fluff only

For Atsumu, he's always been drawn to you—the quiet, pretty muse from unfortunately another class who never seemed to fall for his popular charm. And what's worst is that you weren't even doing anything to catch his attention. It was just a random Tuesday when you were introduced as a new student in Inarizaki, then went on with your day as a normal student like everyone would—and that?

That drove him crazy.

It was probably your reserved nature that felt refreshing to him since he's used to having a crowd of admirers around him. You weren't trying to stand out, be loud—you just always seemed like you had your own little world to be content with.

And he desperately wants to be a part of your life. But let's be real—he's probably not the type to immediately accept his feelings about you because this is genuinely the first time he's falling for someone, so with some ups and downs, denial, and winning a war with his own feelings—yep, he wanted you BAD.

So little by little, he would hang out with you during breaks, keep you company, and slowly become a part of your inner circle—you grew fond of him in your own quiet way. So with Valentines coming up, Atsumu decides it would be the perfect time to confess his undying love for you.

But of course this is an Inarizaki centered story, and it's not one without chaos.

"Yo, have you guys seen the new post from the student council?" The volleyball club were currently in the gym practicing as usual every after school times. Akagi, who was simply scrolling at his phone during break ends up with an interesting post from their student council's social media page regarding the event tomorrow. "The color-coded shirts? still haven't decided what I'm gonna wear to be honest." Aran replied, approaching Akagi to look at his phone, checking what each color meant. To celebrate Valentines, the student council announces a color-coded Valentine's event wherein students wear shirts that indicate their relationship status: Red meant taken, White meant single, Pink means friend-zoned, Black meant heartbroken, etc. Atsumu, who was already plotting his confession, grinned to himself. White it is, because, obviously, he's saving himself for you. So could you just imagine on a Valentines day morning, he's all excited walking at the school, ready to show off in front of you, and sees you in the hallway—

... wearing a red top.

aka TAKEN.

his soul shatters at the sight.

I—what—When—WHO???? Osamu and Suna who was with him—seeing the devastated face on Atsumu bursts into laughter.

He turned to Osamu, aggressively whispering "WHEN THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN???”

"She's taken? tough luck Miya." Suna says in between giggles.

You on the other hand who was just simply talking to a friend—doesn’t recognize the chaos happening behind you for wearing a red top.

“You never told me you were in a relationship?” Your friend offhandedly asks, but they were also internally panicking because they know about Atsumu’s plan.

You tilted your head in confusion, “huh? but I dont?”

“what? it’s red though.” your friend points at your top.

“so? don’t people wear red for valentines?”

You friend’s expression drops.

“[name] you dumbass.”

—

Atsumu spent the whole day sulking, even during practice. He messed up the easiest receives, screwed up his sets, and almost hit Suna on the head with his serve.

that damn red top, he’s never been this furious over a color, and what’s worst is that you looked good with that top too!

How come he had already lost without starting?

And how come he never knew you were already in a relationship? You never gave hints or said anything about being in a relationship—

“If I were you, I would’ve confessed already rather than sulking like that.” easier said than done Aran.

“She was wearing red, RED!” Atsumu dramatically exclaims as he drowns on his own sorrows.

“What did red mean again?” Ginjima asks.

“Taken.” Suna replied bluntly, making Atsumu hiss at the word.

“Never stood a chance huh?” Osamu grinned mockingly.

“SHUT YER TRAP SAMU.”

Kita could only facepalm at the situation, but he’s rather amused since this is the first time he’s seen Atsumu like this, “You know Atsumu, have you ever thought that maybe she just wore the color and discarding the meaning?”

Atsumu’s ears perked up, then Ginjima suddenly had a lightbulb over his head, “Oh yeahhh, it could mean like that too, there were a bunch of guys wearing black for fun earlier despite not being in a relationship.”

“Maybe try asking her about it then?” Akagi suggested.

I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Actually scrap that, it would.

That is until knocking was heard on the doors of the gym.

The team looks over to the source of the sound then sees—

You… with a small box.

“Uhm, pardon me but can I call for Atsumu?” You asked, peeking over to the doors.

Atsumu immediately RAN and was suddenly infront of you, looking… nervous?

“Did ya’ uh, need anything?” he asks, his voice crackling a little.

Then, you hold out the gift to him. “For you.”

Atsumu froze.

“Huh…?”

“Thanks for always keeping me company,” you say softly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to approach.”

Atsumu finally finds his voice. “Wait—so yer not datin’ anyone?”

You blink. “No, why?”

His brain short circuited. He points at your top, “But—THAT’S RED.”

“So?”

That’s when he realizes.

You didn’t know shit about the color-coded event.

His entire face lights up, and lets out the most dramatic sigh of relief. “Wearing red means taken stupid.” He says, flicking your forehead.

It was your turn to get struck by realization now.

No wonder everyone kept asking if you were in a relationship, and no WONDER everyone was wearing different colors for valentines.

Oh you feel fucking stupid.

You then immediately took your phone out, opening an app then searching for your school’s official account page.

You face drops seeing the png file on the very first post that appeared, no wonder why your friend had asked that odd question.

“I—didn’t know…” you muttered, embarrassed about the whole misunderstanding.

Atsumu only chuckled in response, laughing at your misery. “Yer’ killin me ya know that? I though I lost my chance before I even tried.”

You perked up. “You were trying?”

“Obviously.” He grinned.

You smiled warmly, feeling funny about the situation. “Try harder then.”

Atsumu had the brightest grin on his face, he ruffled your hair then gently took the gift from your hands. “Oh I definitely will.”

“P-D-A ALERT” Osamu suddenly shouted from the gym, surprising you and pissing off Atsumu.

“MIND YER OWN BUSINESS!”

WOOOO KINDA SHORT IM SO SORRY GUYS but happy valentines!! and of course I had to celebrate it by writing my all time favorite character😻 hope you guys enjoyed HDJHFODK

💐 >> bouquets for those who don’t feel special enough on this special day <33

[missdynamighttt]

↳ ❝ FAT ASS LIKE HERS NEEDS A REAL MAN TO FUCK IT. ❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ synopsis: in which, you get tangled up with your boyfriend's arrogant, infuriating, and devastatingly hot rival, katsuki bakugou and ended up fucking... one too many times.

starring: pro hero! katsuki bakugou x enemy's girlfriend! reader ⍣ ೋ

disclaimers!: cheating on yo shindo, cheating with katsuki bakugo, body worship, implied mentions of anal sex, oral sex (f! receiving, face riding), manhandling, penetrative / p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie

note: usage of "sweetheart", "pretty", "pretty girl", "sweets", fem reader, implied plus size! reader, mean! katsuki, katsuki calls reader fat but not really (specifically, reader's ass), (hopefully) promoting body positivity. really thought this song gave katsuki vibes and havent seen a fic based off of it yet. reminds me of that montoya guy watching his girl fuck someone on camera lmao😭. time to give back to my community, hope you guys enjoy💜

╰┈➤ [katsuki bakugo was an asshole.] everyone knew that. and when it came to shindo yo, he was even worse. the two had never gotten along—never would. 

which was exactly why, when katsuki walked into the bar and spotted you, nursing a drink, frustration etched across your face, he couldn’t help but smirk.

it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. probably your boyfriend getting a little too damn close to another "friend" again. just like always. this wasn’t the first time, and knowing him, it wouldn’t be the last.

this was the kind of moment he lived for, a rare opportunity to get under shindo’s skin. sure, maybe katsuki didn’t hate shindo that much, but you? you were a different story.

he sauntered over, leaning an arm against the counter, eyes never leaving you. "rough night?"

you glanced up, instantly recognizing the pro hero standing beside you. with a sigh, you swirled your drink in its glass. “you could say that.”

“lemme guess... your idiot boyfriend givin’ you trouble again?”

“…something like that.”

“don’t know why you put up with him, honestly," he chuckled, the sound low and knowing. he tipped his drink toward you, watching your reaction carefully. "you deserve better than some asshole who doesn’t know how to appreciate you.”

your lips quirked, a mix of amusement and exasperation. “and you think you can appreciate me?”

katsuki had no shame, never did. so he grinned, a flicker of something dangerous in his crimson gaze.

"want me to show you, sweetheart?"

one thing led to another and soon enough— you were in his bed, limbs tangled, gasping his name, making sure you see the stars in the sky as he fucked the frustration right out of you.

and after that night, fucking you became katsuki's favorite way to piss shindo off.

you weren’t stupid. you knew exactly what this was. but did you care? not one damn bit. he had you in his bed more than your shitty boyfriend ever did. and yeah, maybe it started as a way to get under shindo’s skin, but somewhere along the way, it became something neither of you wanted to stop.

because katsuki? he was fucking obsessed with you.  

some nights, he’d pull you into his lap, hands splayed over your hips as he buried his face in your neck, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

“fuck, i missed you,” he groaned, voice thick with something dangerously close to vulnerability. his grip tighten, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. “shouldn’t let you leave my bed, y’know that?”

you chuckled, tilting your head back as his lips trailed lower. “you’re never satisfied, huh?”

“so what?” he nipped at your skin, making you squeak. “i like my woman soft. more of you for me to grab.”

and grab he did. he was clingy in the worst way—always needing to have a hand on you, whether it was squeezing your ass, gripping your waist, or just absentmindedly tracing patterns on your thigh while you laid in bed together.

katsuki just loved how you felt in his hands.

then there are the nights when he'd lie with his head on your lap, letting you comb your fingers through his hair, one arm thrown lazily over his chest.

his eyes were shut, his expression relaxed, but every so often, his brows furrowed as he grumbled about his day.

like now.

“dumbass intern nearly blew up my whole damn office,” he muttered, eyes closed. “and kirishima kept laughin’ like it was the funniest shit he’d ever seen.”

you hummed, dragging your nails lightly over his scalp. “i mean… you do blow things up all the time. bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

his eyes cracked open, leveling you with a glare. “tch. ain’t funny.”

you bit back a smile. “a little funny.”

he exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t argue. he never really did when you played with his hair. it was his weakness, and he hated that you knew it.

your fingers trailed down to his jaw, tracing the sharp edge. he leaned into your touch instinctively, like it was second nature. and maybe it was.

“you’re really pretty, you know that?” you murmured.

his eyes flickered open again, red irises locking onto yours. there was something unreadable in his gaze—something so raw and vulnerable.

“oi,” he muttered, shifting slightly, ears turning pink. “quit it.”

you grinned. “quit what?”

“saying dumb shit like that.”

“but it’s true.”

katsuki scowled, but the way he pressed his cheek into your palm gave him away. he huffed, eyes slipping shut again.

“…whatever.”

and he loved it. the times he's spent with you, whether he was fucking you or just talking about each other's day, he loved all of it. not just because it was a middle finger to shindo, but because katsuki got to have you all to himself. 

honestly? it stopped being about shindo a long time ago. but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t rub it in the bastard’s face.

"she was beggin’ me to keep goin’ last night," katsuki bragged, arm slung lazily around your waist, knowing full well that shindō was fuming. his hand drifted lower, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass. “bet you don’t even know how to handle all this ass, huh? shame. guess that’s why she keeps crawlin’ back to me.”

shindo clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what katsuki was implying. he knew. knew there was truth in katsuki’s words. knew that every time he and you argued, you’d disappear for a while, only to return looking a little too satisfied. "you really think you're some upgrade?"  

"she does. especially when she’s whining my name into the sheets.”  

"shut the fuck up, bakugo."  

katsuki barked a laugh, shameless and sharp. he was pissed, good. that was the reaction he wanted. but he wasn’t done yet.

“she’s a greedy lil’ thing, too. always wantin’ more," he grinned, eyes flicking over to him before locking back at yours. "but look at her. how could i say no? she looks so fuckin’ perfect under me."

your face burns, heat creeping up your neck before he scoffs and turns back to grilling your ex, like you weren’t just standing there, completely flustered.

"did she ever tell you how much she loves it when i grab these—" his fingers trailed down your side, giving a firm squeeze and earning a small yelp from you. "—and i slam my dick into her? fuck her real nice and deep? moans so pretty for me, too. you ever heard it?"

and if shindo so much as opened his mouth, katsuki would throw in another dig.

"nah. probably not. bet she asked you if it was in yet.”  

"well, she's all yours," shindo said, fists clenching, clearly seconds away from punching him. and katsuki lived for it.  

"yeah, figured you’d say that," katsuki taunted. "she’s been stress eatin’ too much to deal with a weak-ass like you."  

and then, just because he was an absolute bastard, he'd go in for the kill.

"fat ass like hers needs a real man to fuck it."  

shindo looked about ready to swing, but you pulled katsuki away before things got too messy.  you could still feel the heat of shindo’s rage burning through the air. it thrilled you more than it should have. 

but behind closed doors? the same man who ran his mouth would spend hours pressed against you, whispering things he’d never admit to anyone else.

"c’mere," katsuki grumbled, tugging you onto the bed after another long day of antagonizing your ex. his arms wrapped around your waist, face immediately pressing into your soft stomach.

he worshipped you—every inch, every soft curve, but nothing captivated him more than your stomach.

he was obsessed, utterly entranced. he’d bury his face against it, his hands kneaded your sides, gripping, squeezing—memorizing, pressing lazy kisses to every dip and curve. he held your body with a reverence that bordered on possessive, like he was terrified you’d slip away.

"fuck, baby," he groaned, nuzzling into you like he wanted to disappear into your skin. “love your body so goddamn much. s’perfect.”

you chuckled, threading your fingers through his hair. "thought you said i was stress-eating."  

"yeah, stress-eatin’ on my dick," he muttered, pressing kisses against your tummy. "he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you."

“then why do you still do it, hmm?”

he looked up at you, red eyes dark with something almost desperate as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach.

"tch, you know why i do that. pisses him off. makes him realize he ain't shit. ‘cause he ain't."  

you shivered at the heat of his lips against your skin, biting back a smile as you run your fingers through his hair. so that’s what this was about. "you sure you’re not just obsessed with him at this point?”

he scoffed against your stomach, his grip on your waist tightening. “the hell i am. only thing i’m obsessed with is you.”

it was the side of him no one else got to see— the way he nuzzled into you, the way he pressed his lips to your skin over and over, like he couldn’t get enough. he'd grumble if you tried to move, holding you tighter to keep you in bed, murmuring "stay here. wanna hold ya."  

he loved how soft you were, how warm—how no matter how much he grabbed, squeezed, or traced his fingers over you, it was never enough. he needed you. it was like he was drunk on the feel of you, the scent of you. and truthfully, he was.

"love this shit,” he admitted lowly, voice thick with something almost vulnerable. he nuzzled into your tummy again, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh. "could live here."

you raised a brow, fighting back a grin as you looked down at him. “oh? you wanna live on my stomach now?”

“yes, baby,” he muttered almost desperately, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction while pressing another lingering kiss to your skin. “soft. warm. smells like you.”

you laughed, dragging your fingers through his hair. “so what, you’re gonna quit being a hero and move in here?”

he let out a gruff chuckle, turning his head to rest his cheek against you. “tch. would if i could. wouldn’t need a bed, a couch, nothin’. just this perfect spot.”

“oh yeah?” you hummed, tilting your head. “should i start charging you rent?”

he huffed against your skin. “tch. smartass.”

you giggled, brushing a thumb over the shell of his ear. “i mean, if you’re gonna move in, might as well contribute. utilities, groceries… maybe even a tummy tax.”

his red eyes flicked up at you, narrowing. “the fuck is a tummy tax?”

you grinned. “unlimited kisses. daily.”

he snorts, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. “already payin’ for that, pretty."

and you laughed, because for all his big talk, katsuki bakugo adored you. as long as he had you, nothing else mattered.

and despite the way he ran his mouth, he never let you feel insecure. if he ever caught you looking at yourself too long in the mirror, he’d grab you and pull you onto the bed, hovering over you with that intense, fiery gaze.  

"the fuck are you thinkin’ about?" he’d demand, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing, leaving marks. "you’re mine. this body? all mine. and i fuckin’ love every inch of you. don’t ever fuckin’ doubt how much i want you."

and god, did he prove it.

he didn't just tolerate your body—he adored it. and thats why you found yourself looking down at him lying comfortably on his back, eyes dark with anticipation. he was waiting—no, expecting—you to sit on his face.

you shake your head, heat creeping up your neck. "i can just lay down, 'suki..."

katsuki scoffs, sitting up slightly, his hands already reaching for your thighs, clearly impatient. "tch. and deny me a great view? cut the crap and get up here, sweets."

you shake your head again. "i just- what if i’m too heavy?"

he lets out a sharp, exasperated scoff. "for who? me? well that’s rude."

"it’s not..." you hesitate for half a second, but that’s all the time he gives you. 

he yanks you down onto his face with a low growl, his mouth immediately sealing over your cunt. "stop stallin’ and just give me what i want..."

you hesitate, subtly hovering just above him instead of lowering yourself onto his face, holding onto the headboard for support. his eyes flick up to yours, and the second he realizes what you're doing, his expression darkens.

"the fuck do you think you’re doin’?" his grip on your thighs tightens, his voice a low, dangerous growl. 

“i don’t want to crush you—”

“are you fuckin’ serious?” his voice drips with pure offense, like you just insulted his entire existence. "you really think i can't handle you? think you're doin’ me a favor by holdin’ back?"

you try to protest, but he’s already yanking you down on his face, forcing you to sit properly. his growl vibrates against you as he buries his face between your thighs. the way he looked up at you—pissed off and starving—sent a shiver down your spine.

your face burned, heart pounding in your chest. "i just— i don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

katsuki let out a sharp laugh, the sound vibrating against your folds, lifting you by your hips to give him room to speak from time to time. 

"uncomfortable? sweetheart, the only thing makin’ me uncomfortable right now is you not sittin’ on my goddamn face like i told you to."

your lips parted in protest, but a startled moan escapes you as his tongue flicks over your clit, sharp and demanding. his grip on your thighs is punishing, locking you in place as he devours you with obscene hunger.

"katsuki—" you try to lift yourself, but his hands hold you firm.

"nah. shut up," he murmurs burying his tongue between your thighs without warning. a moan escapes you as he groans against your heat, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you firmly in place. 

"fuckin’ ridiculous," he mutters between licks, voice muffled. "ain’t takin’ this disrespect. you ain't doin’ me no favors by holdin’ back. told ya before— i want you—every fuckin’ inch of you." 

your breath hitches, and katsuki smirks like he knows he’s got you. his crimson eyes flicked up at you, glinting with mischief as he devoured the fuck out of your pretty little cunt, tongue glazed with his spit and your slick. 

"so don't you ever pull that hoverin’ shit again,” he warns, his tongue licking a broad stripe through your folds "or i swear to god, i'll make you sit here all fuckin' night—"

his words were cut off by the way he devoured you, lips and tongue working so hungrily that your legs nearly gave out then and there. his crimson eyes burned into you, daring you to try that shit again.

you whimper, thighs trembling, and he doubles down, tongue curling inside you before dragging back up to your clit, sucking just to hear you whine.

"fuck, baby," he groans against you, his voice thick with need. "taste so fuckin’ good."

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on the soft strands, but it only spurs him on. his hands slide to your ass, forcing you to take everything he gave you. he’s lost in it, completely drowning in you, and he likes it. loves it. wants more. 

"you drive me fuckin’ insane," he murmured, sucking your clit into his mouth with a filthy slurp. "you’re too damn perfect, and it pisses me off."  

your fingers tightened around the headboard, thighs trembling around his head. “how is that my fault? you're the one who—"

katsuki let out a frustrated growl against your cunt, cutting you off before you could finish. without warning, he flattened his tongue and dragged a slow, deliberate lick through your folds, making you gasp.

"its your fucking fault," he went on like he couldn’t believe you had the audacity to act so damn innocent.

his lips brush against your pussy as your legs threatened to close around his head, but his grip was firm, keeping you spread open for him. "prancin’ around, bein’ so goddamn pretty. takin’ up space in my head. gettin’ under my fuckin' skin and you expect me to act normal?"

you tried to answer, but he didn’t give you the chance. a sharp suck on your clit had your head tipping back, a needy whine escaping before you could stop it. his tongue slid through your folds again, swirling around your clit, and the sudden sensation made you choke on your words.

"katsuki—"

"nah. told you to shut up." he cut you off, voice muffled against your dripping cunt. "if you're gonna talk, you can fuckin’ moan."

your noises only spurred him on. your fingers found their way into his hair, gripping tightly as pleasure pooled in your stomach. his tongue worked you over with precision, switching between sucking and licking until your hips were rolling into his face, chasing more. 

"that's it," he muttered, sucking your clit into his mouth again, hard, and the moan that tore from your throat was anything but coherent, fucking you with his tongue. "you wanna run your mouth? do it like this." 

you could barely form a response, your mind going blank as he sucked hard on your clit, his tongue relentless. the only thing that left your lips was a desperate, broken moan.

"fuckin' knew it," he groaned, his voice sending another wave of heat through your body. "knew you’d sound so fuckin' pretty when you just shut the fuck up while riding my face. could watch you like this all fuckin’ day."

you let out a shaky breath, barely able to focus as his tongue flicked over your clit again. katsuki pulled back just enough to suck in a breath, his lips slick and glistening with your arousal. his crimson eyes burned into you, half-lidded and desperate, but still sharp with command.

“fuck,” he groaned, voice thick with hunger. “touch yourself, pretty girl. play with those pretty tits for me.”

your breath caught in your throat, and you hesitated, already feeling overwhelmed by the way he was devouring you. but his grip tightened on your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh in warning.

“c’mon, sweets,” he rasped, his tongue flicking out to tease your clit before pulling back again. his eyes dragged up your body, the heat in them making you dizzy. “be a good girl and gimme a show, yeah?"

with trembling hands, you reached up, cupping your tits, teasing your own nipples the way you knew he liked. you kneaded them softly at first, rolling your thumbs over your nipples, but the second you pinched them, katsuki groaned, his eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing in existence.

“fuck yeah,” he muttered, running his tongue through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth again. “just like that, baby. play with those tits— keep puttin’ on a show for me while i eat this pretty little pussy.”

his tongue worked you over with hungry, unrelenting strokes, the obscene slurps and groans vibrating against you as he devoured you like a man starved.

you tugged at your nipples, your head falling back as pleasure rippled through you. your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around your nipples as the combination of your own hands on your body and his mouth wrecking you from below had your head spinning.

“katsuki—” you gasped, thighs trembling around his head. “i’m— i’m close.”

that was all it took. katsuki groaned deep in his throat, the sound vibrating against your cunt as his grip on your thighs tightened. his tongue worked even faster, flicking and circling your clit with devastating precision, like he needed you to fall apart for him or he'd die.

"yeah?" he rasped between licks, his voice thick and wrecked. "then fuckin’ give it to me, sweets. wanna feel you cum on my face."

he didn’t slow down, didn’t let up for even a second. his hands urged you down harder, forcing you to really sit on his face, and the pressure—his tongue, his mouth, the way he sucked on your clit—sent you careening straight into your orgasm.

your back arched, a broken moan spilling from your lips as pleasure crashed over you, white-hot and overwhelming. katsuki groaned against you like he felt it, like he was the one cumming, and he didn’t stop licking, didn’t stop devouring you, even as you trembled above him.

he finally pulled away, his lips and chin glistening with your slick as he sucked in a breath, eyes dark with hunger. he gave your thighs one last squeeze before gripping your waist.

“get up."

you blinked down at him, still trying to catch your breath. “what?”

“i said, get up,” he growled. "need to be inside you. now.”

you whined, shaking your head weakly. “katsuki, i just— i just came…”

“and?” he scoffed, sitting up slightly. “the fuck that got to do with me?”

before you could protest again, his strong arms moved, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing. a surprised yelp left your lips, but katsuki was already on top of you, pressing you into the mattress, his body burning hot against yours with his lips on yours.

"don't care if you just came," he muttered against your lips, biting down on your bottom one before sucking it into his mouth. "wanna feel you squeeze the cum outta me this time."

your head spun as he hovered over you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. his hands were everywhere—gripping, kneading—like he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

"katsuki—"

"shut up," he growled, shoving your legs open with his knee. "you think i’m lettin’ you off that easy? nah. you got one, and now i’m gettin’ mine.”

you gasped as his hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them, his cock already hard and leaking against your folds. he positioned himself at your pussy, the tip of his cock pressing insistently against you.

"look at you," he murmured, rubbing his throbbing tip through your slick folds. "all fuckin’ messy for me already."

you gasped, legs twitching from overstimulation. “i— i need a second—”

“the fuck you do,” he muttered, lining himself up with your entrance. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. you’re fine.”

and before you could say another word, he thrusted into you, stretching you open in one slow, deep stroke.

"don't care what the fuck you say," he rasps. "bein’ so fuckin’ sweet, it makes me wanna ruin you."

your hands scrambled against his shoulders, nails digging in as you let out a choked sob, overwhelmed, tears pricking at your eyes as he kept moving, his cock dragging against your already-sensitive walls. “k-katsuki—'s too much—”

he didn't stop. didn't even hesitate. he knew better. knew you. if it was really too much, if you truly couldn’t take it, you would’ve said the safe word. and since you hadn’t? that meant you loved this—loved how he was using you, pushing you past your limits, making you take every inch of him.

“yeah? then why’s this pussy still fuckin’ suckin’ me in, huh?” he leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear. “you know what to say if you really wanted me to stop, sweets.”

you whimpered, blinking up at him, your face hot and damp with tears. your breath hitched when he rolled his hips deeper, making your back arch off the bed.

“you like it, don’t you?” he murmured, dragging his lips along your cheek, tasting the tears running down your face. his hands pinned your wrists down beside your head, locking you in place beneath him. “fuckin’ cryin’ and takin’ my dick so good anyway. knew you’d let me use this sweet little pussy however the fuck i wanted.”

your body shook with every thrust, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but the pleasure was so sharp and dizzying, that all you could do was moan through the tears. you sobbed, back arching, hands clutching at the sheets. it was too much, but it felt too good. 

 his thumb swiped at your tear-streaked cheek, his other hand pressing down on your lower stomach, feeling the way he stretched you open. 

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice husky as he fucked into you harder, deeper, making sure you felt every inch. “be good for me. just take it. let me use you, yeah?”

you could barely think, barely breathe, and yet you nodded. and that was all he needed before his grip on your hips tightened, his cock stretching you wide, and he really started fucking you.

his hips snapped forward, burying himself deeper inside you, groaning as your walls clenched around him, still fluttering. his hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your head to make you look at him.

“look at you,” he murmured, taking in the sight of you, tears spilling down your cheeks, the way your lips trembled. “so fuckin’ pretty like this. cryin’ for me. takin’ me like a good fuckin’ girl, squeezin’ me so tight, shit—”

your body trembled beneath him, your sobs mixing with broken moans as he fucked into you relentlessly. your arms struggled against his grip, desperate to reach for him, but he only pressed you deeper into the mattress, keeping you pinned.

“k-katsuki—” you gasped, tears slipping down your cheeks. “please—kiss me—”

he should’ve been satisfied with how wrecked you already were, with the way your body clenched around him so tight—but fuck, hearing you beg for his kisses?

that only made him worse.

“tch. still so fuckin’ needy, even when i’m ruining you.” 

his grip on your wrists loosens just enough for you to reach up. the second your hands touched him, you yanked him down, crashing your lips against his, desperate for the closeness, for the warmth of his mouth against yours.

katsuki groaned into the kiss, deep and hungry, swallowing your cries as he kissed you hard. his tongue pushes past your lips, claiming you just as much as his cock did. his thrusts didn’t slow, didn’t soften—if anything, he fucked you harder, like he wanted to ruin you completely.

“that what you needed, pretty girl?” he murmured against your lips, his breath heavy, your sobs melting into whimpers. “that why you’re cryin’? ‘cause you needed me to kiss you while i fuck you?”

you nodded frantically, another broken whimper slipping past your lips. “y-yeah—needed you—”

“yeah?” he smirked against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip before kissing you again—sloppier, deeper, making sure you’d never forget exactly who you belonged to.

his rhythm starts to stutter, hips snapping into you harder, sloppier, and you felt the way his body tensed, the way his grip on your hips turned bruising. he forced another helpless cry from you, and he groaned against your lips, drinking in every sound.

"fuck—fuck," katsuki whined, voice raw and desperate as he buried himself deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged, his lips brushing against your own as he lost himself in you. "you feel so goddamn good—s'fuckin’ tight, baby—"

you knew that tone—knew the way his voice cracked when he felt needy, when he was so fucking close to cumming. you loved when he got like this, when all his control slipped away and he was nothing but whiny, desperate need.

"katsuki—" you gasped, nails digging into his back, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "i'm—i'm close, i'm so close, wanna cum together—"

his grip tightened, a strangled groan ripping from his throat as he snapped his hips into you, his pace turning desperate chasing both of your highs. "fuck, yeah? c'mon, baby— wanna feel you cum, wanna fuckin' feel you all over my cock—"

his next thrust sent you over, body locking up as the heat coiled tight in your belly and snapped all at once. your moan shattered into a cry as your whole body trembled, clenching around him so hard its about to break him.

“oh, fuck—” katsuki choked, eyes rolling back as he lost it completely, slamming into you one last time before burying himself into your warm, wet pussy. his whole body shook, breath stuttering as he spilled inside you, groaning out your name like a prayer.

he kept thrusting—shallow, drawn-out rolls of his hips, like he never wanted to stop feeling you, even as he came down from his high. his forehead pressed against yours again, his breath heavy, his body spent.

for a moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths, your bodies still tangled, clinging to each other as you both came down from your highs. katsuki was still holding you, his grip tight but no longer desperate—just grounding. 

then, with a deep exhale, katsuki finally pulled out, rolling onto his side and gathering you against his chest. his arms wrapped around you securely, his large hand rubbing slow, lazy circles into your back. you felt his eyes scan over you with something softer than before—something almost tender.

“you alright, sweets?”

you nodded, still catching your breath, but the way your body trembled slightly didn’t escape him. he scoffs, sitting up just enough to lean over and press soft kisses to your damp forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“liar,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. only warmth. “you cried, y’know.”

you let out a breathy laugh, snuggling closer. “you were relentless.”

he clicked his tongue, one of his hands finding the back of your head, his fingers slipping into your hair, the other resting on the small of your back, holding you close.

you melted into his chest, sighing against his skin. “you’re so warm…”

he smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “duh. i’m literally made of explosions, dumbass.”

you lightly smacked his chest, making him chuckle. but his teasing quickly faded as he tilted your chin up, crimson eyes searching yours. his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away the last remnants of your overstimulated tears.

“seriously, though,” he murmured, quieter now. “you okay?”

your heart squeezed at how gentle he was being. how, despite how rough he could be, how demanding, he never once forgot to take care of you afterward. you leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm.

“i’m perfect,” you smiled sleepily. “because of you.”

“tch. sappy little shit," katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, looking away. his ears definitely got redder.  “you sure, though? i didn’t—y’know… go too hard?”

you hummed, tilting your head to press a lazy kiss to his jaw. “i'm fine, katsuki. i promise." 

he just huffed, shifting to grab a towel from the nightstand. “yeah, well, you better be. was holdin’ back just for you.”

you snorted. “that was you holding back?”

katsuki shot you a look but didn’t argue. instead, he started cleaning you up, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. he was quiet as he worked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“…was it really okay?” his voice was quieter now, hesitant in a way he rarely was.

you cupped his cheek, running your thumb over the sharp line of his jaw. “yes. i’d tell you if it wasn’t, katsuki.”

his crimson eyes searched yours for a long moment before he finally exhaled, tension melting from his shoulders. “good.”

he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips, lingering there as if he never wanted to pull away.

“cause next time, i’m makin’ you cry even harder.”

you groaned, shoving his face away as he laughed, the sound deep and full of warmth. 

katsuki didn’t say anything for a moment after—just stared at you, his expression completely unguarded. no sharp smirks, no cocky grins—just raw, unfiltered devotion.

he stared at you like you’d just hung the damn moon. like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.  

you reached up to brush a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, and he caught your wrist midair, holding it for just a second before bringing it to his lips. the kiss he pressed against your palm was barely there, but it sent warmth blooming in your chest.

“you’re lookin’ at me funny,” you murmured, voice drowsy.

katsuki huffed a quiet laugh, but he didn’t look away. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you smiled lazily back at him. “like i just saved a bunch of kids from a burning building or something."

his smirk was faint, more of a ghost of amusement than anything. he pressing lazy kisses along your wrist, trailing them down to the inside of your palm. “you didn’t save a bunch of kids. you’re just—you. and i dunno what the hell i’d do without that."

your chest ached at the raw honesty in his voice, but before you could say anything, katsuki pulled you in even closer, pressing his face against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide.

“go to sleep,” he grumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “say any dumb shit about it, and i’ll smother you.”

you couldn’t help but smile as you curled against him, feeling the way his arms locked around you just a little tighter. “mhm. goodnight, katsuki.”

and then you smiled—sleepy, content, completely at ease in his arms.

katsuki stiffened. just for a second. just enough for you to feel the way his breath hitched, the way his hold on you tightened like he was trying to keep himself together.

fuck.

that damn smile. that look on your face. like he was your whole world. like you trusted him. like you loved him.

he clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his nose, like that would do anything to calm the way his heart was fucking pounding.

"goodnight." 

he was fucked. absolutely, completely, and hopelessly fucked.

because thats when katsuki bakugo realized he was in love with you. and he couldn't do anything about it.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ tags: ˚⋆ @kalulakunundrum @ch3rryjampi3 @lotusstarr @aranikai @emmab3mma @yannvi @gabby-ha @twoplayergaymers @xanneeeyyyy @akiii143 @ceeriusly-dumb @beabamboo @butlereyepatchbunny @qyuin @ocharavitys @dragonscribble @jimabbenamara @g0dawnlita @sourgrapesthings @seraphiicallyy @aawwq @kaybug88

[ladykailitha]

Yellow Daisies- A Valentine's Story

When I finished the last of the Boy with a Bat story I wanted to do something fun for Valentine's Day. But I bit off more than I can chew, so I'm releasing the first part and will release the others as the come.

Summary: Steve was told that men only received flowers once and that was at their funeral, so he made it he's life's mission to give everyone flowers as often as he could. Or Five Occasions Steve gave flowers and the time he got them in return.

Each part will have the flowers he gives and their meaning for the occasion.

~

Steve had heard early on in life that men only receive flowers once and that was when it was too late to appreciate them. At their funeral. It made him sad. Even boutonnieres had to be bought and paid for by the boy doing the asking.

Men got hearty handshakes and boys got a pat on the head. Even in sports, girls got flowers for their wins, boys if they were lucky got teddy bears and other stuffed animals. Things that guys immediately tossed on their way out.

Not Steve though. If he got a teddy bear, he kept. Some times they got regifted if the girl really liked one of his collection, but rarely.

So he always tried to make sure he gave as many flowers as he could. Because even though he would never get any back, he wanted to make sure everyone else in his life got as many as possible.

1. Mother’s Day: Pink Carnations- motherhood

When Steve was about eleven and was given money for the first time as allowance when he started middle school, the first thing he did was rush out and buy flowers for his mom.

He bought her white roses, like his father did all the time.

Maureen sighed. “I know you don’t know any better, Steven. But don’t be an idiot like your father. I’m allergic to roses.”

Steve nodded and quickly carried them away when he saw that her eyes were starting to water.

Then he tried poinsettias for Christmas, because he had seen her put out the plant every Christmas and he even picked out the best ones.

Again the gesture was dismissed, though this time it took longer for Steve to notice the poinsettias that were on display weren’t his. It had been hard to tell at first. Because they all seemed to look the same to him.

But then while he was taking out the trash, he spotted a pot tucked away by the garage with wilted leaves and a cracked base.

Steve felt a swooping in his stomach. He knew without taking a single step toward it that it was the one he gave his mom. And while he wanted to believe that the cracked base was the reason it was hidden away. He knew it wasn’t. He knew just didn’t fit his mother’s idea of perfection.

The last time he tried to give her flowers was on Mother’s day a few years later. She had actually been home for a change and so Steve had wanted to do something special for her. So he bought her her favorite chocolates and pink carnations.

Maureen took them with a pained smile and a quiet thank you.

It wasn’t until Steve had come out to the kitchen for a glass of water did he understand what that meant.

She was on the phone with one of her friends. “The chocolates are all right, I suppose. I’ll just have to be sure to portion them out so I don’t get fat. But those flowers, Sophie! They were dreadful! Like I wanted to be reminded I was a mother. My youth is already fading and now carnations! I might as well have one foot in the grave at this point!”

Steve put a hand over his mouth as tried to fight down tears, but they spilled out over his fingers, hot and stinging. He slid down the wall and sat down with a quiet thump. He listened as his own mother complained about how she had felt pressured by Clint to have children and was honestly relieved when told she wouldn’t be able to have anymore.

He got up and walked back to his room, where he held his pillow to his chest and laid down on the bed as he cried and cried. He knew his father hated him for being such a disappointment but to hear that his mother hadn’t wanted him in the first place was hard pill to swallow.

~

“Dude,” Steve huffed, smacking Dustin on the back of the head, knocking his trucker hat to the ground. “You aren’t doing anything for you mom for Mother’s Day? I thought you loved your mom.”

“I do!” Dustin protested slamming his head back on his head. “But gifts to moms are like baby stuff.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “No they aren’t. Now, if you tried to make her shitty ashtray or macaroni necklace I’d agree with you them being childish. But a heartfelt card or even make her one of your electronic doodads would really make her smile.”

Dustin scoffed.

Steve leaned forward into his face. “Because if you don’t I will completely show you up and you’ll never live it down for the rest of your life.”

Dustin gulped, eyes wide. “What would you even do?”

Steve just smiled slow and sinister.

~

Dustin had made a light up sign that said: Happy Mother’s Day, Ma!

Claudia kissed the top of Dustin’s head when he handed it to her. “Oh baby, I love it. Thank you so much. It’s going right on the mantle.”

Dustin puffed out his chest. Just beat that, Steve! he thought gleefully.

Then Steve showed up for dinner with the biggest bouquet of pink carnations he had ever seen. They were like the size of his head. They were wrapped in a delicate white tissue paper and tied neatly with a pink ribbon.

“Oh Steve, they’re beautiful!” Claudia cooed, gently taking the flowers from him. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I’m just grateful you could make it to dinner.”

Steve beamed up at her. “Nah, I wanted to. You’ve been more a mom to me than mine in every way possible. And I know everyone loves to get get flowers.”

She kissed his cheek and then went to go put them in a vase. “It makes me so angry when I think about your mother, Steve. There are some people who don't deserve children. But I’m grateful you’re here, now.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Dustin said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Even though you aren’t blood, you’re as much a part of this family as either me or Ma.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks guys.”

Claudia bustled him further inside to the dinner table and started dishing out the gorgeous meal she had made.

Steve smiled up at her. He had offered to make it for her, but she told him she loved cooking and it was always a treat to make something special so he let her. And seeing her now, he was glad he had gotten her flowers instead pressing the dinner issue, because she looked really happy.

And when he came back the next week, he found the carnations turned upside down to dry out so she could keep his flowers for longer. The love he felt for her grew so much more when he saw that.

2. Get Well: White Spider Lilies, Snowdrops, and Yellow Orchids- Good Health, Consolation, and New Beginnings and Friendship

Steve wasn’t sure who was less surprised when Nicole got mono their freshman year, her parents or her friends.

Even at the tender age of fourteen, Nicole liked the boys and she wasn’t afraid to get what she wanted.

Which made it more hilarious when it was revealed that she got it from a dirty drinking fountain at the elementary. When kids too young to be kissing got mono, her parents first thought that she got it from a boy who had a sibling at the elementary and had been contagious. As her younger sister hadn’t gotten it.

But nope! She had drank from the same fountain because she been there to pick up Penny from school and had gotten thirsty waiting for her.

So when they were allowed to visit her, Steve of course bought flowers. He had asked the florist for something especially nice for a sick friend and she made a bouquet of beautiful white flowers.

Steve went up to her house, flowers in hand. Nicole’s mother cooed over the flowers and told him what a sweet young man he was.

But it went spectacularly wrong when he went to hand them to Nicole.

She took the flowers and looked at them mournfully. “I–I mean thanks. But I only think of you as a friend. I–the flowers are very pretty but I’m not sure I can accept them.”

Steve stared at her for a moment shock. “No, no!” He waved his hands back and forth. “No. It’s not that. I promise! I just taught growing up that you got people flowers when they weren’t feeling good. That’s all, okay?”

Nicole looked down at the pretty white flowers and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Steve.”

Things went smoother after that. But Steve made sure to let the person know they were get well flowers right off the bat.

Something he was sure he didn’t have to say, but now he wasn’t so sure.

~

The aftermath of the Battle of Vecna as Dustin was calling it, was rough on everyone. Eddie and Max were in the hospital. Neither one with good prognoses. Max was in a coma and Eddie was still in surgery after eleven hours.

Even Steve was currently in the hospital being treated for sepsis because once the adrenaline wore off after bring Eddie to the hospital his body decided to overreact to his injuries and shut down.

He hated it. He hated that he was there in a bed that should be used for someone else.

“Steve!” Robin admonished when he voiced these complaints to her. “You almost died! I think it’s okay for you to take a break and let other people handle it for a change.”

Steve really didn’t have anything to say to that, because she was right. He could have died if he hadn’t fainted when he did. And they were telling him it was going to be a long and painful road back to normal, but he would get back to normal. He was in good health, kept up a healthy diet and exercised regularly, it was just almost getting eaten alive that caused his body to go into overdrive.

Which, fair.

So he made sure that both Max and Eddie had flowers delivered every day. He even told the nurses to give the other flowers to patients that didn’t get visitors. Something the nurses loved him for.

The flowers he sent Max and Eddie were the same ones he had gotten for Nicole all those years ago. Snowdrops and spider lilies. But for them he asked that another flower be added to the bouquet. Yellow orchids.

When Max woke up, he was standing there, holding her hand. She looked over to see the flowers and scoffed.

“I don’t need flowers, dumbass,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Everyone needs flowers,” he insisted. “The snowdrops are for consolation. The spiderlilies are for good health, and the orchids are for new beginnings and friendship.”

Max looked over at the flowers again and then up at Steve. “I love you, you asshole!” And she gave him the fiercest hug.

Steve held her tight and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Max.”

~

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[lavenderdaisychain]

Evil In Bed

note: omg I haven't posted on here in like a year, I'm trying out a new thing by doing charactrer x reader stories so feel free to leave constructive feedback! :) 2.8k word count

~your favorite regular at the diner you work at turns out to be an interesting character

CW: violence, gun violence, sexual assault, harassment, hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing but thats not that crazy, wound care, age gap (You're early 20s he's late 30s), Frank being calm until someone lays hands on his favorite waitress

Frank Castle x fem!reader

You weren’t sure when exactly the stranger who always sat at the back of the diner became a regular. Or more specifically, your regular. Being not only a collage student but a student nurse meant you worked the job that paid your rent, at night. It was a small diner in a busy part of Brooklyn but it was a surprisingly good gig, you liked your co-workers and most people that came in were regulars so easy to work with and they’d always leave you good tips.

A few months ago a guy started coming in around the beginning of your shift, and he’d stay until you left. He always wore all black, kept his baseball cap pulled down where you could only see a small glimpse of his face. He’d sit at the back of the diner, facing the door and nurse a pot of coffee the whole time. No food, just coffee. Like clockwork. After a pretty light start to your shift you noticed your regular at his normal booth. You grabbed the coffee pot from its stand, a bowl of cream and sugar and headed his way. 

“Evening stranger. Just coffee as usual?” You questioned with a warm smile, you caught his smile as he curtly nodded his head. The two of you had built a small relationship, sometimes he’d ask if he needed to rough up a weirdo after a bad shift. You’d always laugh, but he was serious and you knew it. “Well looks like it’s gonna be a boring night, got any jokes for me? Or hot gossip from wherever you come from? Something to keep me going?” 

You’d asked for his name several times but he never gave one. Which would probably seem weird if you didn’t live in New York, so you just called him Stranger. 

He quietly mulled over a few ideas in his head as he sipped his coffee. He drank his coffee black but you always brought the cream and sugar for yourself, in case you joined him. You scanned his face and noticed some new bruises and an ugly gash across his nose. 

You couldn’t see his face very clearly with his cap but you did catch his big brown eyes gazing up at you before he finally answered. “Boss is callin’ your name sweetheart.”

You cursed under your breath as you were pulled away from him. You turned on your heel in the direction of your nagging boss, a group of bikers had come in and were also beckoning you over.

“Sorry about that folks. Welcome to Casey's. I'll be your waitress. What can I get everyone to drink?” 

Each man made some form of a lewd joke about you being on the menu before giving their actual orders. You smiled through grit teeth and quickly went behind the bar.

“I’m going to murder them. Can you please please take these guys Joey?” You begged the head cook as he flipped some pancakes on the grill. 

“And you cook? Sorry sister but no. If it’s that big a deal, make Casey deal with them.”

“Casey will tell me to suck it up and flash them if it means getting good tips! Joey please! I’ll never ask for free food ever again!” That’s a lie. After another hard ‘no’ you huffed and took the group of brutes their drinks. 

“So what’s a fine piece of ass like you working in a place like this?” One of the men asked, referring to the slightly dingy diner you’d come to love. 

“Just trying to pay the bills.” You replied curtly, trying to keep your eye from twitching. “Does everyone know what they’d like to eat?” 

Before they could make another joke about you being on the menu, a sharp whistle cut through the air, you whipped your head around to see your favorite regular holding up an empty pot of coffee. 

“If you’ll excuse me I just need to step over to that gentleman’s booth for a moment, take a couple more minutes to look over the menu.” You smiled before practically bolting to the other side of the diner. “Thank god for you and your caffeine addiction,” you sighed, wiping his table down and picking up the empty pot. “Want another one?”

“Those guys bothering you?” If looks could kill every man in the booth on the opposite corner would be dead. You looked back at the men and then to your stranger with a soft smile.

“Nah, Joey may act like he hates me but if they get too mouthy he’ll kick em’ out. Promise.” You placed your soft hand on top of his rough knuckles, the murderous look on his face flickered to a softer one for just a second. “Look at my favorite regular being worried for me!” Before he had the chance to reply you were being called back over, you sighed and took a moment to fix your hair. “Duty calls! I’ll be back.”

“Don’t worry about another pot, I'll be fine!” 

You nodded as you pulled your order book back out.

“Sorry about that guys, what can I get started for ya?”

As each man gave their order they were surprisingly…nice? No lewd comments, no smart remarks, no staring directly at your boobs while you took orders, until the last man who was sitting closest to you ordered.

“Yeah I’ll take the burger all the way, with curly fries and a soda and for dessert I’ll have a piece of you!” Before you could even react his hand flew up your skirt and firmly gripped your ass, you screamed, dropping your order book. As you raised your hand to smack him, a tall shadow hovered over both of you and the man instantly let you go.

“That’s not how you treat a lady.” It was your regular. “Now apologize.” He stepped in between you and the man, his broad body covering you completely. It was then you realized just how large he was. His shoulders were broad like a man who spent his whole life working, his jacket smelled of leather and gunpowder, something you’d never noticed until he was right up against you. The men argued and in a flash the group was headed outside, your regular having the perv that grabbed you by the throat. 

“Oh my god Joey!” You yelped as a hand gently grabbed your arm. “He’s going to kill him!” You practically squealed. Joey shrugged and dragged you behind the bar.

“Wait here.” He mumbled before turning to follow after the fist fight waiting to happen. Joey was much older than you, he’d been working at Casey’s since it opened. 

He thought you were an annoying brat when you first started working. Eventually you stopped asking for free food because a plate would be waiting for you at the end of your shift, he’d become a father figure of sorts. But you two still butted heads so of course instead of doing what you were told you ran after him.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Your boss asked, stepping out of his office. You yelled something about a fight as you ran past him, he quickly followed behind. You threw the back door open to the sight of your regular dominating over the gang of bikers, most of them were on the ground but two of them had him cornered. He moved swiftly and efficiently to knock them on the ground, yelling about how their mothers should’ve raised them better. 

You covered your mouth in horror, eyes wide from shock. Joey stood to the side with a toothy grin as he recorded the massacre.

“Joey!” You shrieked, slapping his arm. All the men turned to look at you, including your regular who was now splattered with blood. The man he had beaten slowly stood with a gun in his shaky hands, and fired. Joey and Casey both pushed you to the ground, your ears rang sharply even though you’d thrown your hands over them at some point. When you finally pushed the two burly men off of you the bikers had scattered leaving your regular bleeding on the ground. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You ran to him, picking his face up gently. “Hey, I need you to talk to me. Please, please talk to me!” You slapped his face lightly before moving to lay your head on his chest, it moved up and down but his breathing was ragged. You moved to assess the damage as Joey dialed 9-1-1, the bullet hadn’t gone through all the way and seemed to be lodged in between two of his ribs. You let out a sigh of relief but yelped when he grabbed your hand. 

“No hospitals.” He spat through gritted teeth.

“Are you crazy?!” You sat back on your heels in disbelief as he began to stand, and caught him before he hit the ground again. 

“You're a nurse aren’t you? You fix me.” 

“I’m a CNA, that’s not a nurse.”

“Well I’m sure you can figure it out, I’m running out of time here sister.”

You gawked at him like he was a pure mad man before saying something you’d never catch yourself saying. “Joey tell him everyone ran off. I got this.”

Joey now wore your gawked expression. “Now I knew you were crazy but I didn’t think you were this crazy! Absolutely not!” 

“Joey. Trust me.” 

He stared at you before hanging up the phone, grabbing Casey and going back inside. Maybe he was just as crazy as you were. But deep down you knew this guy wouldn’t hurt you. 

“I only live a few blocks from here. I walk to work every day. Just stay with me and we can make it.” He nodded, screwing his eyes shut at the mere movement of walking. “You know, I could’ve handled those guys without making it a fight.” 

“No darlin,” he grunted. “Not when that asshole had a gun.” He gripped his side tightly as you hobbled through the streets of Brooklyn. You couldn’t believe you were taking this man you didn’t really know to your apartment because he’d insisted on no hospitals. Who was this guy? He grunted at every step as you climbed the stairs to your apartment.

“Why do you have to live on the third floor?”

“It’s good cardio, sue me.”

You finally reached your door without leaving a bad trail of blood and as you fumbled with your keys your elderly neighbor stepped out from her door across the hall. You lightly laid your hand on your new companion's chest to let him know not to make any noise.

“Mrs. Dabney? Is everything alright?” 

“Oh darling I was just about to ask you the same thing, I could hear you struggling up the stairs and had to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh Mrs. Dabney thank you for asking, I’m perfectly fine, Joey sent me home with a big box of cooking supplies so it was a pain to bring up the stairs with the elevator not working. I’ll be there to help you with your grocery shopping tomorrow!” Your lovely neighbor wished you goodnight and went back inside, you quickly pushed your regular inside and locked the door behind you. 

“She’s blind,” You seemed to answer his question before he even had the chance to ask. “She’s blind but I have a feeling she knew you were there..I’ll come up with an excuse later.”

He stood in your studio apartment awkwardly, not wanting to sit and get blood on your couch but also losing blood at an alarmingly fast rate and trying to not fall over. You quickly grabbed your medical kit and helped him to the bathroom. 

“Shirt off.” You demanded, setting him on the seat of your toilet. 

“Hey now sweetheart, at least buy me dinner first!” He partially laughed and partially grunted at the pain that shot through his chest. Except you didn't laugh like you normally would, you shot him a look that had his shirt hitting your bathroom tiles in an instant despite how much it hurt.                                                                     You stopped for a moment to really take in the sight before you. His cap was off and his hair fell just above his eyes, but the sides were shaved, his face was perfectly chiseled like it had been handcrafted.

 His nose had clearly been broken multiple times but for you it just added to his charm. Your eyes trailed down to his equally sculpted chest, he wore a pair of dog tags with a gold band threaded in them. He was a soldier, which made so much more sense. His abs rippled with every tense breath, his right side was drenched in the blood that seemed to be oozing from his 8th rib, in that  moment you remember why you were here. He’d been shot and he wanted you to fix him.

“Don’t care if you drool over me as long as you get the job done darlin,” He grunted, snapping you from your daze. You ran back to the kitchen and returned to him with a bottle of whiskey.

“Drink.” You raised the bottle to his lips and he gratefully took it from you. You pulled your hair back tight and sighed as your work uniform would be totally trashed. After washing your hands and sanitizing your tools you got to work kneeling between his legs and resting your arms on his upper thighs. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty nasty, I’ll do my best.”

He said nothing as you worked to clean the wound, you silently prayed that the bullet was lodged in his rib and not somewhere worse. Either way this wasn’t going to be fun for either party involved. You tried your best to feel for the bullet, but you didn't have the right angle with him sitting upright.

“Hey- wait what is your name anyways? I've been trying to get it out of you for ages but you’re always so mysterious at the diner.”

“Frank,” he grunted, taking another swig of whiskey, “Castle.”

“Well Frankie, I’m gonna need you to slide your hips forward I need a better angle.” He nodded and slipped his hips closer to you until you were practically face to face with his hip bones. You had to drown out the hisses and groans that he let out as you carefully sliced his skin and removed the fragmented bullet and the pieces it left behind. Despite the situation you were in, it was hard to work with him being so close to you. He was so caring, and so fucking hot. It was going to be hard to keep him out of your bed.  You finished suturing the cut you had to make and sat back on your heels wiping your brow. 

“Need anything else patched up while I'm sitting here?” You looked at the gash in his nose and lip and then to the cuts on his knuckles. 

“Nah I don’t think it’s anything major, but you could always kiss it to make it better?” You shot up to look in his eyes, and at the big shit eating grin on his face. Was this his plan the whole time? You couldn’t help but giggle as you took his hand and slowly peppered kisses on his knuckles, before slowly moving up to his rib, he hissed at the contact but didn’t pull away. You perched yourself on his lap and peppered kisses, intertwining ‘thank you’s’ between the kisses. You helped clean him off and wrapped his hand and nose before bringing him to your room.

“I have some of my brother’s old clothes, the shirt might fit.” You helped pull it over his head, pulled his boots off and helped him lay in your bed. He laid down but was tense as you changed out of your bloody work uniform.

“I’m so sorry,” 

“For what?” You asked, crawling into the bed.

“For dragging you into this whole...mess.” He sighed, dragging his bandaged hand over his face. You sat in front of him frowning. 

“I may not know you Frank, but if I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here. I don’t know your situation but get some sleep, let your wound heal up for the night at least.” You caressed his face, he leaned into your touch and you sat with him until he fell asleep. After a few hours you got a text from Joey, the headline read:

The punisher of New York attacks a biker gang in a small Brooklyn diner - ‘This your guy? Nice.’

You turned your head to face the man whose face was nuzzled in the cook of your neck, how could someone the world saw to be evil be curled up in your bed? That would be a question for another day, for now he was all yours.

note: AHHH this was so fun to write I have a couple more im working on as valentines day approaches so stay tuned! I hope yall enjoy! Muah ;)

@ebodebo @fun-k-boards @jjenthusee @sceletaflores @starsofang

[lrithill]

Unzipping You

Hello everyone, this is my second fanfic about Art the Clown.

I love this character because I feel like with him, I can be as violent, comedic, and… strangely romantic? as I want.

This is kind of a slow-burn story, I love diving deep into the psychology of the characters, and I want you to immerse yourselves completely in the story.

I was thinking of leaving this fanfic as it is. However, if you’d like a second part, let me know in the comments or by leaving a like.

Warning: Shooting, hostage situation, sexual tension…

There’s fluff and comedy, intertwined with the disturbing and tense atmosphere. I really want to capture the essence of Art and Terrifier.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All of this was, in part, your fault – though it was also Art’s, really.

Art had had a run-in with a man at a bar. It turned out the guy was pretty strong and had given your clown quite a beating. What this man didn’t know was that every minute that passed was another minute for Art to come up with ways to kill him.

As expected, Art managed to knock the guy out. He took him to an abandoned basement – ripped off a couple of his fingers and partially skinned his face-- what he deserved, nothing more.

He was going to keep torturing him for what he had done, but then he thought that maybe he could have some fun with you as well. This guy had pissed him off, and he wanted to enjoy himself a little –not do all the work alone.

Art has a bad habit – though to him, it’s hilarious – to let you see his victims before he kills them. He leaves the room with the victim tied up, pretending to go get something, only to let you walk in. He does this to give them a sliver of false hope, making them believe you’re someone who has found them and is going to help – only for Art to show up again and watch as they realize you’re not going to stop him.

You don’t like doing this much, but Art seems so excited to see you act, to watch you lie to their faces… You don’t know why, but you love seeing him happy, his radiant eyes striking a sensitive chord in you, unequivocally.

You walk into the room and give your best performance as a savior, going through the motions of calling the police, blah blah… like always. But this time, something was different. The victim was staring at you intently, their predator-like eyes locked onto you – He wasn't buying it.

Fear paralyzed you the moment you realized it.

With sheer brute strength, he broke free from their restraints, rushed toward you, and pinned you down.

Art appeared as if he had teleported.

The man was threatening to break your neck if Art didn’t let him go.

At that moment, you were terrified, tears streaming down your cheeks –until you looked at Art– and saw something you had never seen before in him: Fear.

Art looked completely shocked—his face contorted, hands trembling… “Is he afraid of losing me?” you thought, adrenaline rushing through your veins. “Impossible…” you answered yourself- and for some reason, that hurt you even more than the man’s arms constricting your neck.

The victim, who was now the threat, demanded Art give him a phone to call the police. Art, reluctantly, obeyed. He obeyed.

Art didn’t know what to do. He had never been in a situation where he had to protect someone. The thought startled him – "Protect…?" he wondered. Had you somehow gotten under his  skin? – He quickly swatted those thoughts away like annoying flies.

The enemy called the police, at the very moment he freed one hand to talk, you swiftly sprayed him with pepper spray – He lets out a cry of pain, blinded – Art could be a bastard for making you do these things, but at least he gave you something to defend yourself with.

Only this time, it was all too sudden—you didn’t stand a chance to react

You broke free from the man’s grip and ran straight into Art’s arms. He was already holding a gun, his demeanor black as tar, and he emptied the magazine into the man’s chest… even when no more bullets were coming out, Art didn’t lower his arm, the empty magazine clicking hollowly.

Click click click click…

–ART, STOP!!!– you scream like a stupid little girl.

All you needed in that moment was the warmth of his body, his heat surrounding you, his stormy calmness…

Art finally lowered the gun and snapped out of his trance, realizing -with an unsettling thought- that the moment he felt your arms around his waist, he seemed to take a breath for the first time in what felt like forever. Those thoughts creeping back into his head, laughing at him.

He was getting weak.

With no time for anything else, you both hurried down the stairs toward the building’s exit. The police were arriving, sirens blaring in the distance, closing in within minutes.

The rain intensified, raindrops sliding down your faces, and the flashing lights of the police cars blinded you, red and blue stains clouding your vision.

Luckily, Art knew all the shortcuts and led you through the darkness like a seasoned predator, slipping away, even sneaking past the officers – a true Houdini.

That’s when you spotted a motel in the distance – a sad neon sign flickering above it, the name barely readable as some of the letters had burned out.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The motel on the outskirts of the city was gloomy, damp, and reeked of cheapness—but none of that mattered to you, because you were safe, and you were with him, any place seemed strangely pleasant when you were by his side.

You both figured that in this rundown place, no one would come looking for you. It seemed abandoned, and the owner, judging by his appearance, seemed to be there for… other reasons. He didn’t even question you before handing over an old, rusted key—not even when he saw your companion, whose appearance was… to say the least, suspicious.

—Are we safe here?—your voice is a barely audible whimper, you're trembling.

Art nods. He has evaded the police countless times. You could say that the Miles County force isn’t exactly the most competent—not that he’s complaining. You love how confident he is, even after taking a brutal beating from his victim, even after having to run through the rain in the chaos, he still manages to keep a cool head and think clearly. “A man who gets things done”, you think.

Art and you climb the stairs of the motel in search of your room. The ceiling lights flicker as you walk past. “The lights always flicker when Art walks by”, you notice. The windows muffle the sound of the rain, and the sirens are barely audible now—a sign that they’re moving away, to your relief.

Art invites you into your “vip” room with a gentlemanly gesture. You love it when he does that, and you can’t help but laugh and prance in like a lady. Art loves it when you play along with his little performances.

You feel relief upon seeing that there are no cockroaches—at least, none visible. The smell of old wood isn’t entirely unpleasant. It seems like the owner gave you the only room that doesn’t have leaks also.

You head to the bathroom to change. You’re freezing. The only thing you want at that moment is a pajama and a soft, warm bed… well, maybe something more.

And then it hits you.

You realize you don’t have pajamas. This wasn’t something either of you had planned for, and now you’re left with two options: stay in your damp clothes or strip down to just a tank top and panties… “at least it's not thong”.

"This is just great" you think sarcastically. "Though… Art has never seen me in my underwear before…" You find yourself blushing at the thought. A familiar heat rises to your face.            

You shouldn’t be feeling this way at the idea of Art eye-fucking you… but there’s something about that clown… that lures you in… in a way you’ve never felt before…

Of course, you know Art well enough to realize how foolish it is to think he’d ever feel anything even remotely intimate toward you.

Though… you can’t shake the image of Art’s expression during the shooting. It’s burned into your mind. "What was going through his head?" you wonder. "Why didn’t he just shoot right away, freely?"

HONK HONK

Art’s horn jolts you out of your thoughts—it’s as if he’s saying, "What the fuck are you doing?!?!"

—I'm coming, Art… it's just that I realized I don't have my pajamas… do you mind if I—You don’t even get to finish before you’re interrupted by a ridiculously sexy whistle, straight out of Who Framed Roger Rabbit. That bastard… he may be mute, but he sure had good lungs.

—Close your eyes while I cover myself with the sheets, please…—  you sound miserable — unless you want to take a peek…— you add playfully, immediately regretting it. 

Art would kill you without a second thought if he ever found out you had feelings for him.

You timidly emerge from the bathroom doorway, first peeking out your head, then your shoulders, then your chest—until, finally, you gather the courage to step forward and walk towards the bed where Art is waiting for you – your long legs quivering .

Nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness: There lies Art—still in his suit—reclining like he’s posing for the cover of Playboy Clown Edition (which, let’s be honest, he totally could), wearing a… seductive smile? One hand resting behind his head, the other slowly stroking your supposed spot on the bed, it’s giving low budget romance novel protagonist vibes. He’s inviting you to join him, and the worst part? It’s kinda working.

You freeze, and his response is a double eyebrow raise, his expression still.

You know you’re bright red, and he knows it too. You have to admit—you’re a little wet… actually, quite a lot.

Finally, Art drops his little game and sits at the edge of the bed. Now, at last, you join him. The bed creaks slightly under your weight.

—We’ve never slept in the same bed before— you say nervously.

To which Art responds by raising his palms in a "not me" gesture, before throwing himself onto the floor, as if he’s about to sleep underneath the bed— imitating a monster straight out of a classic bedtime horror story.

—Get back up here, silly.— You both laugh. You grab onto his clothes to pull him back onto the bed, and that’s when you realize—Art is freezing.

You know he doesn’t wear anything under his suit, and that’s why he won’t take it off, even though it’s soaking wet.

You also suspect that he’s still stiff and sore from the fight with that man earlier.

The weight of the situation sinks in—the two of you, sitting on a king-sized bed, alone in a godforsaken place, lost to the world… you are each other's world right now.

No words were needed. In that dark room, with shadows dancing along the walls and death lurking in every corner of your story, there was something real. Something strange, something bizarre… but also, something beautiful.

You dare to lift a hand to Art’s neck and gently stroke it, pressing gently. At first, Art tenses up, his eyes wide—but then, he relaxes and lets you.

You massage his neck until your hands slowly slide down to his shoulders, to which Art responds by closing his eyes, a faint, silly smile forming on his lips.

—Do you like it?— you ask softly.

Art responds with a “so-so” gesture, as if you weren’t doing a good enough job. But he’s just messing with you—of course, he likes it, and you know it.

—Lie on your stomach— you suggest —I think your back needs my attention…

You look at him and notice genuine uncertainty on his face, side-eyeing you.. You can tell no one has ever touched him like this before.

Art hesitates for a moment before lying down. The truth is, he’s exhausted, and a massage wouldn’t be the worst thing. Though he’s not even sure how it is supposed to feel like, he guesses that it’s… satisfying. 

And the fact of your hands caressing his skin stirs up something unknown inside him. Whatever you are awakening in him…. He wants more.

Art sprawls out, his body flat against the mattress. You’re pretty sure he has no idea that you actually have to sit on top of him to give a proper massage—and that thought amuses you.

With a quick motion, you straddle him, your ass pressing against his—and Art nearly jumps out of his skin like a cat that just got electrocuted. (He really thought you were just going to sit next to him.)

Art shoots you a sideways glance—you can practically read his expression: "Clearly, I’m not doing a good enough job at making you fear me…”, his eyes rolling back in exasperation.

You burst out laughing.

—Did you really think I’d pass up the chance to sit on top of you?— You give him puppy-dog eyes, your lower lip slightly jutting out.

He drags a hand down his face, like he’s questioning how all his life choices got him into this situation. But he lets you be –what could he do?

You find the zipper hidden beneath his clown collar—finally, you’re going to get this soaked suit off him. You’re worried he might get sick.

Although, realistically, the chances of Art getting sick is so low, it’s in the negatives.—This man probably has antibodies for diseases humanity hasn’t even discovered yet. You giggle at the thought.

You drag the zipper down, the sound echoing through breaking the silent of the room—you’re definitely unzipping more than just a suit.

You help Art slip his arms out, leaving his upper body completely exposed—completely bare, completely at your mercy. Just the thought makes you drool…

This creature, the embodiment of pure evil, now awkwardly vulnerable.

Your less-than-innocent thoughts quickly fade the moment you take in his scars. Old ones from the past, a collection of bruises of every possible color –from just a few hours ago–, and deep contusions littering his skin.

You can’t help but feel hatred toward the people who did this to him—it almost looks like he’s been whipped over and over and over again. 

He even has a strangely specific scar encircling his entire neck—you’re not asking about that.

For the first time, you run your hands along his back, and the fine hairs on Art’s skin stand on end at your touch. He squirms beneath you, which—much to your dismay—sends a wave of arousal through you, the friction against your core way too noticeable. “Thank God he doesn’t know”.

You stroke him delicately—his alabaster skin is beautiful, his slender body is beautiful, you’ve never seen a being so utterly beautiful.

You start massaging his back, applying pressure to every single knot of tension (everywhere), and Art can’t stop himself from letting out a small sigh of relief. His eyes are closed, and for the first time in a long while, he actually looks… at peace.

You use your thumbs to press into his muscles, and Art clenches his fists—not even he knows if it’s from pleasure or pain. You also notice that his body is radiating heat.

You take advantage of the moment, guiding his arms up over his head, letting his shoulder blades spread open. He seemed almost like surrendering to your touch, without even realizing it.

You’re salivating. The view in front of you is priceless—you don’t want this moment to end, and apparently, neither does Art, judging by how willingly he lets you do as you please.

Your hands wander down his sides—it’s not a massage spot, but Art doesn’t know that. At this point, you’re blatantly groping him. You can feel how ridiculously wet you are, your clit swollen and aching—you subtly grind down against his ass, pretending you’re just repositioning yourself.

Art lets out a low, guttural sound—something animalistic.

Art was squirming beneath you, tense and uneasy—like he wasn’t sure what to do with his body, his lower abdomen tightening, a sharp pulse of pleasure shooting straight to his groin –an undeniable erection coming on.

"Thank God I’m wearing pants," Art thought.

He had never felt this way toward a living human being before –the idea of you noticing? he’d rather drop dead on the spot.

—Relax, Art, I could do this all night if you want— you tease —By the way, did I ever mention you have a really nice back?— you say flirty.

To this, Art lifts one arm and makes a small circular motion with his finger, as if saying, "Your turn." Then, he raises his eyebrows twice, suggestively “Time for you to get a taste of your own medicine”.-- you could read him as an open book.

—Hoo boy, Art… are you sure you want to do this?— you ask, suddenly nervous. —I’m fine, I promise, you’re the one who needs taking care of.

Even though the idea excites you beyond reason. You are Niagara Falls at this point.

You slowly lift yourself off Art’s ass, and immediately notice the way he’s smirking at you—mischievous.

"What are you thinking…?" you thought –He sure worries and thrills you.

You lie on your stomach, and suddenly—his weight hits you like a damn truck. Good God, that’s way too much, it turns you on so much.

You can’t see him, but you can FEEL him. His presence, his darkness looming over you. He’s devouring you with his eyes— if he is an appetite; you’re a chicken wing to him, nothing more.

In this position, Art is confirming his suspicions—he wants you (oh…) so badly.

He thanks whatever higher power exists that you can’t see him right now, because if you could, you’d be staring directly at his throbbing, triumphant erection straining beneath his suit.

Art is so hard it hurts. He feels his cock twitching and leaking, aching for relief. God, you got him like this with just a touch…

But how does he know if you want him too? A strange feeling sinks in his chest for a brief moment—how could someone like him ever be wanted? And by you, of all people. You are so perfect. So perfect for him

You wiggle your ass playfully, inviting him to touch you. Literally, he hasn’t done a single thing yet—other than mentally jerking off and having a post-nut clarity crisis in less than 10 seconds. What an overthinker.

Art finally places his hands on you, starting to massage you, but his fingers are trembling so much. He’s never touched anyone like this before—never with the intent to please. This is completely new to him.

You can tell he’s inexperienced, but he’s doing so well. Honestly, just the fact that it’s him touching you like this, worshipping your body, his weight pinning you down—you already feel like you’re in heaven.

You’ve never been happier.

Art slowly lifts your tank top, signaling that he wants to take it off—to have direct access to your body. You happily oblige, helping him strip you.

Now this—this was the moment Art wasn’t prepared for.

His eyes take in a slender waist, a delicate back, narrow shoulders… And the mere thought of what the front must look like makes him feel lightheaded.

Art furrows his brow, his breath growing heavier. Sweat begins to trickle down the sides of his face. His poor, neglected cock is screaming for attention, and he can’t even touch himself. He can’t rub against you either—that would be too obvious.

—Art, are you okay?— you ask. —Do you like what you see?— You really don’t want to mess this up or make him uncomfortable.

Art freezes.

Then, like an absolute idiot, he claps his hands together stupidly to indicate "yes."

"What the fuck did I just do?!" He mentally kicks himself. The nerves are wrecking him—and to make matters worse, there’s not enough blood reaching his brain right now. 

That cock is hogging at least half a liter.

Now Art massages your body—properly this time. You can’t help but let out a soft moan when he presses the right spots.

"I know a better spot that would make you moan even more…" Art thinks, "what if you moaned my name...? "shivers running down his spine at this thought. That pleasurable pain stabbing through his groin once again. His cock alive and throbbing .

Eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. If you had the courage to look over your shoulder, you’d witness a stare so deranged, it looked almost inhuman

He keeps massaging, stroking you, until he realizes your bra strap is getting in the way.

It’s literally just a strip of fabric sitting there, and a pretty thick one at that—with three clasps.

Art deduces that only premium goods would require such a level of security.

His eyes light up. His imagination runs wild –You are driving him crazy, without even knowing it.

Gathering his courage, Art hooks a finger under the strap, lifting it slightly, silently asking for permission to remove it.

Silence.

Tension.

You know this is a point of no return.

Your breath catches in your throat.

The only sound in the room is Art’s heavy breathing. His eyes are glued to that strap as if it holds every ounce of his frustration. As though it were everything he despises in this goddamn world... He can only think about one thing—but first, you have to allow it.

—Do it, Art. It'll be more comfortable for you, and—

CRACK.

Art snaps the clasps open with monstrous strength (if you had little clothing before, now you have even less.)

Now, there’s a bit of fear about what comes next… but God, you do need this man to owns you.

You need it so bad.

And the best part?

So does he.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you liked it, and thank you for reading this far.

I’m not really sure whether to continue this or not—getting into the thing (wink wink)—I’m at your service ;)

[niniwritesxo]

cute coffee guy pt.3

roh jaewon x fem reader

hope you guys enjoy it!

no warnings <3

꩜—————————————————————————

you shifted on your feet, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this might seem. chasing after a guy you met once in a coffee shop, only for him to disappear like some elusive indie film protagonist? embarrassing.

jae-won, meanwhile, looked amused. “did you just… stumble in here, or were you looking for me?”

your mouth opened, then closed. no way were you admitting you’d been keeping an eye out for him after he seemingly vanished into thin air. “i was just around.”

“uh-huh.” his smile twitched. “totally believable.”

you huffed, crossing your arms. “you disappeared.”

his eyebrows lifted. “disappeared?”

“yes! one day you’re sitting across from me at a coffee shop, giving surprisingly strong opinions about biscotti, and the next, you’re just, poof.” You gestured vaguely, like that explained everything.

jae-won pressed his lips together, clearly fighting back a laugh. “poof?”

“you know what i mean.”

he tilted his head, considering you. “so you were looking for me.”

damn it.

“i—look, i just thought it was weird,” you muttered, suddenly regretting all your life choices leading up to this conversation. “people don’t just… disappear.”

“i was traveling.” he leaned against a bookshelf, watching you with quiet amusement. “had some work in other cities. didn’t think I left such a strong impression, though.”

you scoffed. “you didn’t.”

“right.” his grin widened. “that’s why you ‘just happened’ to be at my poetry reading.”

“listen,” you deadpanned, “if I knew you were such a lovey dovey poet, i definitely wouldn’t have come.”

jae-won put a hand to his chest, mock-wounded. “ouch. that’s how you’re gonna treat a guy who just read a very heartfelt poem to a room full of strangers?”

“you called me a quiet presence.’” you gave him a pointed look. “i don’t know if that’s a compliment or if I should be deeply offended.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “i was being mysterious.”

“oh, of course. because being straightforward would just be too easy.”

his smile lingered, but his voice softened slightly. “i meant what I said, though. it was about you.”

you stared at him, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to flustered. then, because vulnerability wasn’t your strong suit, you blurted, “okay, but the biscotti thing, you were wrong.”

jae-won groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “not this again.”

“biscotti are just overpriced, rock-hard breadsticks disguised as a luxury snack.”

he pointed at you. “that is a terrible take.”

“and yet, here I am, still standing by it.”

jae-won sighed, looking toward the ceiling like he was asking for patience. then he glanced back at you, eyes warm, teasing. ‘‘let me buy you a coffee, and we’ll settle this.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re just trying to get me to admit I was looking for you.”

“i’d never do that.” he was absolutely trying to do that.

you hesitated, only for a second but then shrugged. “fine. but if you recite any more poetry at me, i’m leaving.”

“no promises,” he said, grinning as he led the way out.

and there you were, sitting in that cozy coffee shop again but with the cute coffee boy again.

jae-won had a habit of talking with his hands. not in an over-the-top way, but just enough that you’d noticed, the way his fingers moved when he got caught up in a story, when he was explaining something, when he was trying to find the right words.

right now, though, he wasn’t using his hands at all.

he was sitting across from you, stirring his coffee absentmindedly, his gaze unfocused. you had been talking about something, movies, maybe? you couldn’t even remember now, because whatever he had just said had completely derailed your brain.

it had been so casual, so offhanded, like he didn’t even realize the impact of his own words.

“i mean, you don’t seem like the type to date around much.”

you blinked. “excuse me?”

jae-won took a sip of his coffee, oblivious. “i just mean, you give off a different vibe.”

your eyebrows shot up. “and what vibe is that?”

he shrugged. “i don’t know. you just seem more… reserved. like you’re not the type to, you know—” he waved vaguely, finally using his hands again. “be with someone just for the sake of it.”

you stared at him. “so, what? you think I’ve never dated before?”

jae-won faltered. “i—no, that’s not what I meant—”

“because, wow, jae-won. wow.” you put a hand over your heart. “didn’t realize I was out here looking like a tragic, romance-less hermit.”

he groaned, finally realizing his mistake. “that’s not what I was saying.”

“no, no, it’s fine.” you leaned back, crossing your arms. “maybe I’ll just start wearing a sign. ‘please date me, I’m dying of loneliness.’”

jae-won exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “i hate you.”

“you hate me? i’m the one whose dating life just got absolutely slandered.”

he sighed, shaking his head. “i wasn’t trying to insult you, I swear.”

“too late. the damage is done.” you took a dramatic sip of your coffee. “my pride may never recover.”

jae-won gave you a flat look. “you’re insufferable.”

“and tragically alone, apparently.”

he groaned again, but he was smiling now, his head tilting back in defeat. “fine. I’m sorry.”

you narrowed your eyes. “for?”

“for—” he huffed. “for accidentally implying that you’re, like, chronically undateable.”

you nodded. “thank you. apology accepted.”

there was a beat of silence, then jae-won smirked. “for what it’s worth, i wouldn’t mind being the one to fix that.”

your stomach flipped.

he said it so easily, like it was just another joke, but there was something else there too—something in the way his gaze lingered just a second longer than usual.

you swallowed, gripping your cup a little tighter. “well,” you said, forcing yourself to sound unaffected. “you do owe me, after that absolutely ruthless character assassination.”

jae-won chuckled, tapping his fingers against the table. “guess I do.”

and just like that, the balance shifted again.

꩜—————————————————————————

let me know if you want to be on the tag list!

(english is not my first language so my apologies if i made any mistakes xo)

taglist: @sl00tty-v @come-as-you-are-111

[ripdragonbeans]

Love In The Darkest Of Places // modern!Aemond x Reader

Chapter 9: Healing is a Process

Summary: Focusing on bringing Alys down, you and Aemond get caught up in the rush of it all, causing you two to burn out. What better way to help that than therapy?

A/N: Love my @exitpursuedbyavulcan lol

Masterlist

Chapter 8 // Chapter 10

Curled up next to Aemond, you gently played with his beautiful long hair as you both faced the computer monitor. Every time either of you looked at Aemond’s draft to the head of the university, you would freeze. Both of you wanted Alys out of your lives, out of the university, so why were you hesitating?

“We should gather more evidence if we can,” you offered. “Maybe find some of the other guys she's gone after?”

Aemond shook his head. “I doubt any of them would want to call her out. They probably didn't even realize she was manipulating them. I didn't see it until I talked to you.” He sighed. “She's good at this game.”

“Are you going to send the report anonymously?” It was the first time you asked him.

“I'll send the report anonymously, but I'm not going to erase my name from the texts. They need to see every step she does, including calling me by my name.” He took a breath. “But if you want me to go completely anonymous, I will, and I understand. I don’t mind pulling myself through the mud, but I don’t want you to get dragged as well.”

You moved to sit in Aemond’s lap and faced him. Holding his gaze, you told him, “I am never leaving you again. You go through hell, I go through hell. Together forever.”

He nodded. “Okay, then. I'm not going to hide.”

Moving off his lap, you stayed close and watched as he began typing vigorously. 

To whom it may concern, he typed. I write to you to inform you that one of your staff members, Professor Alys Rivers, has engaged in inappropriate conduct with students. Attached to this email are screenshots of conversations between her and me, Aemond Targaryen. 

I trust that appropriate action will be taken in this matter, and I am happy to cooperate with any further investigation you require.

Sincerely, 

Aemond Targaryen

Taking a big breath, Aemond sent the email. When he looked to you, you gave him a reassuring smile, took his hand, brought it up to your lips, and gently kissed the back of it. 

“I'm so proud of you,” you whispered. “She will not get away with this, not anymore.” As you looked at him, you noticed how exhausted he looked. You knew it must have taken a lot out of him. It was one thing to admit all that has happened to you, but to go public with it is another story. “Come on,” you tugged on his hand as you stood up. “Let's go somewhere.”

As you pulled up to the building and got out of the car you gave Aemond a small smile. 

“The library?” He asked.

“You always feel better after you've been to the library,” you shrugged. “So I figured why not take a quick trip.”

Aemond pulled you into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

When you broke away from the hug, you took his hand and pulled him over to the library, not that he needed any goading; you just enjoyed pulling him around sometimes. As you entered the library the smell of books immediately surrounded you. It was a warm and cozy feeling. Hand in hand, you wandered the isles of many books until you each found a few to borrow for the month. Before checking out, however, you found yourself in a cozy alcove upstairs where the two of you could begin reading one of your books.

The quietness of the library was a welcome reprieve from the loud noise going on in your head and you figured it was the same with Aemond. With so much going on in life it was important to you that you and Aemond both find ways to settle all that noise and take a breather every now and then.

You closed your book, a good fourth in already. “Ready to head out?” you whispered to Aemond.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he closed his book. When he stood up from the very pillowed chair he stretched his arms high, revealing a little bit of skin as he did so.

You smiled seeing that little glimpse of his stomach. Instead of being a menace, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Pressing your face against his body, you inhaled his scent and took the moment in. For the first time in a while, you and Aemond were at peace. 

Aemond wrapped his arms around you. He tilted your head up by lifting your chin and pressed his forehead against yours. “This is nice,” he said quietly.

You murmured your agreement.

Within the peace and quiet of the library, you and Aemond were both able to find yourselves again and plant your feet well into the ground again.

“How do you feel about therapy?” you asked him the next day. It had been on your mind for a while, and you thought it would be good for both of you. You fixed your breakfast as you waited for his answer.

“Like talking to someone about everything?” Aemond paused. “It's crossed my mind a few times, yeah.”

Crossing across to the couch, you sat down next to him. “I think it would be a good idea,” you offered. “Maybe couples counseling, too.”

Aemond turned to you quickly. “Do you think we need help? I can do better. We can work it out.” His eye widened in horror.

“No, Aemond, we're okay,” you reassured him, then shrugged. “I just think it would be healthy for us, especially after all that's happened.” 

“I think therapy is a good idea,” he said after a while. “I still haven't fully comprehended everything that's happened and,” Aemond sighed, “I want to feel better. I want to be better, for you and for me.”

“Then let's do it.” You nodded your head and kissed his cheek. “Couples therapy it is. Do you want to go on your own, too?”

“I think I will. It'll probably be for the best.”

You smiled. “I agree.” Wrapping your arms around him, you held Aemond close to you—close to your heart. You would never let him go, not anymore, and you would never let someone make him feel so inferior ever again.

The waiting room in the therapy center was painted a dull brown, creating a neutral-esque environment. It was all brown. Different shades of brown. The chairs and benches, however, weren’t brown; they were black. It was a very boring sitting room, you thought, but it was better than being overstimulating.

As you sat with Aemond, you noticed he was bouncing his leg. “Nervous?” 

Aemond continued to bounce his leg. “On edge, I would say.”

On this day, Aemond donned his usual eye patch and pulled his hair up in a bun. He was dressed casually, but being Aemond, he looked like he had an important interview to attend.

You placed a hand on his knee. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

You looked around. There was no one else in the waiting room, and granted, it was later in the day as well. After a few minutes of silence, a door opened, and a man called out your name and Aemond’s. As you two stood up, Aemond nervously wiped his hands on his pants. Instinctively, you reached out and took his hand.

“We'll be right over here,” said the man you assumed to be the therapist. “Sit anywhere you like, and please make yourselves comfortable.” He smiled warmly before going behind his desk. “Hello, I will be your therapist, Dr. Simon Strong. A lot goes into this, so let's start at the very beginning. How did you two meet?”

Aemond, hesitant, didn't say anything, so you took it upon yourself to begin the conversation. 

“We met when we were children. Our mothers were, emphasis on “were,” close, and when they drifted apart, we stayed friends. We were neighbors, actually.”

“And how did that help build your relationship?” Dr. Strong asked.

“It brought us closer together,” you shrugged.

“She was my only friend,” Aemond said carefully. “She would visit a lot and wasn't scared of my brother or off-put by my sister, like some other people who had tried to be friends with me.”

Dr. Strong raised his eyebrows. “Your only friend?”

Aemond shuffled his feet. “Yeah, I didn't have many friends growing up; it was more of just her and my siblings.” He looked at you. “But she's the best person that's ever walked into my life, and for that, I'm grateful.”

The therapist nodded. “Now, I would like you two to tell me why you want to do couple's therapy.”

You answered without hesitation. “We want to have a healthy relationship.”

“I had an …issue with a past relationship, and I don't want that again,” Aemond added.

Dr. Simon Strong leaned forward with interest. “Ah. We’ll get that later. Here is my question: has your relationship always been romantic?

You shook your head and laughed, “No, it was never like that. We were children; we didn’t know what love was. We knew we cared about each other, but that was it.” You tried to push away some of your very first feelings for him.

“I think I was always in love with you,” whispered Aemond.

“Aemond…” you paused to take a breath. “Now that I think about it, I think I was always in love with you, too.” You turned to Dr. Strong. “I think we both fell in love early on but didn’t quite know what it was,” you cleared up.

“That’s fair. Many do not understand the deep and abstract concept of love outside of caring for others when they are young children.”

“All I knew then is that I cared about her. There wasn’t exactly any love between my mother and father,” Aemond said. “I had no real example of what love was supposed to look like.”

“And there is no one-fits-all all when it comes to love,” Dr. Strong added. “Every couple looks different. What matters is that both parties are happy and healthy. Are there any moments in your history as children that stick out to you?”

“When I was sick once he brought me soup,” you offered. “It wasn’t much, it was very simple, but I remember feeling cared for.”

Aemond cocked his head to the side. “I remember that. You were running a high fever and were suffering from body chills.” He looked at you. “I knew even then I wanted to take care of you. I didn’t like it when you got sick or hurt, but I’m glad you always came to us when something happened.”

“It wasn’t like I could go to my mother or father,” you scoffed. Turning to Dr. Strong, you explained to him, “My family was never the most supportive of me. I know for a fact they never wanted me, and they weren’t eager to hide it.”

“That must have been very traumatic for you,” Dr. Strong replied.

You shrugged. “It’s something I grew up with. It’s more like background noise at this point.”

“It still follows you?”

“I guess it kinda hangs over me.”

“I see…” Dr. Strong scribbled something down. “What about you, Aemond? How is your relationship with your family?”

“My birth dad is nonexistent. I don’t want him around. My mother and my siblings care about me, and I care about them. I know there is love and support between us all.”

Dr. Strong addressed both you and Aemond with his next question. “Have either of you had previous relationships?”

Silence enveloped the room. 

“Not me,” you said, breaking the silence. Well, Aemond thought I was in a relationship with someone else, but I wasn’t.”

Dr. Strong straightened his back. “Oh?”

“It was this double date she and I were practically forced into when we were in high school,” Aemond explained. “We didn’t go on the double date as a couple but as a part of the other’s date. It was a mess. I got jealous, and I tried to make her jealous and it ended up with both of us getting hurt.”

“Has that event shaped how you two are now as a couple?”

“Not that one specifically, but…” you trailed off to let Aemond bring her up. She had to be talked about. She was the elephant in the room.

“My professor. One of my university professors coerced me into a relationship with her,” said Aemond. His face had gone blank and devoid of emotion.

“Was there anything that led you to be in a relationship with this person? From what you have told me, the two of you are very close.”

You hesitated. “I told him I couldn’t be with him. We kissed, a heat of the moment thing, and I freaked out and ran away and told him I couldn’t let myself be with him.”

“And how did that make you feel, Aemond?”

“I was… heartbroken, I guess. I didn’t know what to do.”

“And how did this professor coerce you into a relationship?”

“She flirted with me. A lot, actually.”

Hearing this made your blood boil but you kept your anger and jealousy down to let Aemond tell his story.

“She would call me to her office, and we would talk. She would make leading comments and ask questions bordering on inappropriate. At first, I hated it, but then I started to want that; that feeling of someone wanting me.”

Your heart dropped as though it was attached to a rock and then thrown into a lake to drown.

“The day she kissed me…I felt wanted, and that’s what I was looking for, what I so desperately needed.” Aemond turned to you. “I never initiated any of our intimate moments, including kisses or hugs. Everything was started by her.” He turned back to Dr. Strong. “I was just going through the motions. There was maybe a time I felt like I actually cared for her; I did care for her in a way, but not in the way I care about my…” he trailed off and looked back at you. “You. I never cared for her the same way I care for you. Alys was all physical, not even always wanted. I let her do whatever to me just so I could feel like I was wanted by someone.”

Tears were streaming down your face. “Oh, Aemond, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged off the apology. “It was my choice to follow her and I regret it every day.”

“Well,” Dr. Strong started, “that is certainly a lot to hop into.” He made sure to look at both of you. “You did really well, you both did. You should be proud of yourselves for opening up not just to me, but to each other. I can tell you two care about each other a lot and want this to work. That’s good.”

“Do you have any suggestions for us as a couple?” you asked.

“As a couple, not really. I do encourage you to continue talking openly with each other. That does wonders in a relationship. Communication is key. Individually,” Dr. Strong looked at you, “you should try reaching out to your family, maybe they’ve grown, maybe not. If you would not like to reach out to them, that is up to you, but I think you may find some closure. As for you, Aemond,” he turned to face him, “I would consider a companion to have around when your significant other is unable to be with you. A dog, perhaps? A cat is easy to take care of, not a fish, someone you could find comfort in when things are too hard. Both of you taking care of an animal would be beneficial to you as a couple as well.”

The two of you nodded. 

As the session went on, Aemond talked about Alys and their relationship and how it has formed who he was now. Hearing him talk about her made you uncomfortable but hearing how uncomfortable she made him made you mad.You thought back to the first time Aemond had told you about Alys and when you had caught them in the hallway. It was her that initiated it; not him. It made you feel better, in a way, but you were still not a fan of it. But then he had seemed so…besotted with her. Knowing now that it had been more infatuation and physical than anything helped how you felt about the whole situation. However, it had you wondering about the dinner you had with them as well. Aemond seemed so out of it and now you knew why. 

During the session, you touched on your family a bit more and how they treated you and how that shaped who you were now. It was…difficult to talk about them. When you had your last conversation with Jace you thought that would be the last of it. That may not be the case anymore. 

 Aemond began speaking. “There… there is one other thing I’d like to talk about before leaving: my eye.”

“Ah, yes, I was wondering if you were going to bring it up. What would you like to say about it.”

“I won’t give all the gruesome details, but if anyone’s ever been there for me, it’s her.” Aemond reached out and grabbed your hand. “She was the one who gave me the sapphire in my eye, actually.”

“I have a matching necklace,” you added.

“If it weren’t for her always being there for me, I honestly don’t know where I would be now. I can’t imagine my life without her.”

You squeezed Aemond’s hand and looked at him. “I don’t know where I’d be, either, Aemond.”

When you and Aemond finally broke your gaze and looked back at Dr. Simon Strong, you found him smiling at the pair of you. “You two will do well in therapy. You have already done a good job of communicating and this is only the first session. We’ll see you in a week? I normally see my patients every week and then we slowly start to add more and more time in between sessions.”

“Yeah, in a week is good,” you said.

“Wonderful,” Dr. Simon Strong smiled at you. “Now it is time for Aemond’s session by himself. You can wait in the waiting room.”

“Thank you again, Dr. Strong,” you shook his hand and then turned to give Aemond a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room.

The drive back to Aemond’s apartment after the therapy sessions that day was quiet, but in a good way. Both of you have been carrying baggage and now that it was all out in the open the air felt cleaner. You glanced at Aemond through your peripheral vision and smiled. He was gazing out the window.

“Everything all right?” you asked him.

Your question apparently startled him. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“We did a lot today. I’m proud of us but I’m mostly proud of you, Aemond.”

He let out a breath that sounded like a chuckle. “I’m glad I can make you proud, my dear.”

“Oh? Have we graduated to pet names now?” You said with a joking edge knowing that using pet names and nicknames were a bit of a sore spot for him after her.

Aemond took a beat. “Yeah, I think we have.” He moved a hand onto your thigh and gave it a squeeze. “I’m honored to have you as mine, my love.”

If you could have, you would have pulled over to the side of the road and kissed him right then and there, but you couldn’t. Instead, without taking your eyes off the road, you brought his hand to your lips and gently brushed them against his knuckle. “As am I.”

Despite living with Helaena, you found yourself spending more and more time with Aemond. A few days later, you found yourself curled against Aemond’s body in bed. While you were awake, Aemond was softly snoring, still asleep. His arm was draped around you and held you close, your back pressed against his stomach. You turned to look at him and take in his beauty. With his eyepatch discarded on the bedside table, his sapphire shined in the morning light. His long hair was sprawled out on his pillow as his head was turned towards you, as though the last thing he saw before falling asleep was you. Smiling to yourself, you basked in the moment. It was peaceful.

After a few minutes of beautiful silence, you gently roused Aemond from his sleep. “Wake up, my dear.”

Aemond mumbled something and simply pulled you closer, burying his 

“Aemond,” you groaned, “it's time to get up.”

“It’s too early.”

“No, it's not. Come on, let's get going.”

“Fine,” said Aemond, dragging out the word.

You finally shimmied out of his grasp and sat up in bed. Gently pulling up Aemond to a sitting position, you laughed as he pretended to resist you. Once you got him sitting up, he immediately fell on top of you, completely limp.

“Help, I've fallen and I can't get up,” he said half heartedly.

You had to wiggle him off of you to be able to get off the bed. When you were able to actually get up, Aemond relented and did so as well. With his hair all messy, he muttered something about being tired then flipped his hair out of his face. Lumbering over to his closet he pulled out his clothes for the day. You watched him as he changed, unmoved from your spot in the room. As if he felt your eyes on him he turned around. 

“Like what you see?” he playfully asked.

You took a few steps closer to him. “Of course I do, my love.”

Aemond hummed contently as you hugged him. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “It’s time for you to change out of your pajamas as well.”

“What? You don’t like my shorts paired with one of your shirts?” you teased.

“Honestly, I love it, but where we’re going may require a change of clothes,” Aemond said.

With his words, you remembered the goal of the day. You were going to begin the process of adopting a dog.

[enemiestolovershoe]

Hiiii i love your writting so much and i would love if you could write a noah X reader inspired by the song 7 minutes in hell by chrissy costanza

Seven Minutes In Hell

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: Toxic relationship, Intense emotional manipulation, Arguments and fighting, Emotional whiplash, Dark themes of obsession and unhealthy attachment, sexual content (no smut)

Words: 1.2k

A/N: Thank you so much anon! 💕

Disclaimer: While the characters in this story are inspired by real people, the events and interactions are purely fictional and not reflective of reality.

"Oh my god, do angels ever fall this hard?"

Your hands were shaking. Not from fear—no, not that. From frustration, from rage, from the overwhelming need to scream until your lungs burned.

But you didn’t.

Because you were too busy staring at him, at the mess of a man standing in front of you, his brown eyes burning with the same anger you felt twisting inside you.

Noah fucking Sebastian.

Your greatest mistake.

Your greatest obsession.

Your greatest sin.

And yet, even now, after everything, you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t breathe without him even if being with him felt like suffocating.

You slammed your phone onto the counter, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “Why the fuck do I always have to find out from someone else?”

Noah scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Here we go again.”

“No, seriously,” you snapped, stepping forward. “Why do I always have to hear about your bullshit secondhand?”

“I don’t owe you a fucking explanation,” he shot back, voice dripping with irritation. “You wanna know something? Maybe stop listening to everyone else and ask me first.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Because you’re such an honest guy, huh?”

He clenched his jaw, muscles tensing. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you sneered. “Call you out on your bullshit?”

His hand slammed against the wall, inches from your head, his body caging yours in. “You wanna act like I’m the only one who’s fucked up?” His breath was hot against your skin, his tone low, dangerous. “Like you’re not just as bad?”

The worst part was that he was right.

"The devil dancing in the dark, I kinda like it in his arms."

And maybe that was the problem.

Because even now, even after all the screaming, the accusations, the nights spent wondering why the fuck you stayed. Hispresence still set your skin on fire. His anger still made your pulse race.

You should’ve shoved him away. Should’ve left him standing there in his stupid black hoodie, with his stupid, messy hair and his stupid, intoxicating gaze.

But you didn’t.

Because you never did.

"Come my way."

His lips were on yours before you could stop him, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. You gasped against his mouth, but it wasn’t in protest.

It never was.

His teeth dragged against your lower lip, and you whimpered—pathetic and needy. His grip tightened, and you let him have you. Because that was what you did. You gave and he took and you never once thought to stop him.

Because you didn’t want him to.

"When you kiss me, I can feel fire within me. Heaven’s got me burning. Yeah, you got me playing seven minutes in hell."

His mouth left a scorching trail down your neck, his breath heavy, ragged. “You drive me fucking insane.”

You dug your nails into his shoulders, letting him press you harder against the wall. “Good.”

"Touch me, bringing me down to my knees."

And you did. Over and over again. Because this was the only way you two knew how to communicate—through touches that burned, through gasps that replaced apologies, through passion that should’ve never been mistaken for love. 

But it always was.

"Love the taste of sinning."

You hated yourself for this. For craving him even when you swore you never would again. For wanting him even when his voice still rang in your head, sharp and cruel from the last fight.

But you weren’t the only one.

Because Noah was just as fucked.

Noah’s POV

"Close your eyes. I’m gonna be your favorite vice. Forbidden from your paradise. You wanna take a little bite."

She looked like a fucking angel—eyes dark with anger, lips swollen from his kisses, skin burning under his touch.

And he wanted to ruin her.

No, he already had.

“You think you’re so fucking innocent?” he muttered against her lips, hands gripping her thighs. “Like you’re not just as twisted as me?”

She exhaled sharply, her nails dragging against his scalp, a mix of anger and need in her eyes. “Shut up, Noah.”

A smirk pulled at his lips. “Make me.”

And she did.

"Close the door. Oh, drop your halo to the floor. No, you don’t need it anymore. I’ll never leave you needing it anymore."

Her hands were trembling, but not with fear. No, it was something else entirely. Something dangerous. Something that matched the fire in his own veins.

And he wanted to ruin her with it.

“You always come back,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She exhaled sharply. “And you never let me go.”

Noah smirked, tilting her chin up. “You don’t want me to.”

And maybe she didn’t. Maybe that was the problem. She was his. Even if she hated it, even if she hated him. Shebelonged to him. Just like he fucking belonged to her.

It was a curse.

A disease.

And neither of them wanted the cure.

"When you kiss me, I can feel fire within me. Heaven’s got me burning. Yeah, you got me playing seven minutes in hell."

She gasped into his mouth and he groaned, his hands fisting in her hair. The way she tasted—like whiskey and bad decisions, like something he couldn’t quit. He was drowning in her, lost in the way she gasped against his lips, in the way her body curved against his like she was made to fit him.

He was supposed to be the devil in this story, but God, she felt like heaven.

And that terrified him.

Didn’t want to quit.

Would never quit.

"Touch me, bringing me down to my knees."

His mouth ghosted over her jaw, down her neck, lower, lower. Her fingers twisting in his hair as he dropped to his knees in between her legs.

Because that was how it always ended. With them tangled in sheets, out of breath, drenched in sin and sweat, pretending the world outside didn’t exist.

Until it did.

Until the cycle started all over again.

Until the fire consumed them both.

Readers POV

The sheets were tangled around your legs, your body still humming from the aftermath. But the peace didn’t last. It never did.

Because the second you opened your mouth, the spell shattered.

“Noah,” you whispered.

He didn’t move.

You hesitated, then reached for him, fingers grazing his back. “What the fuck are we doing?”

Noah let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. “Burning.”

You swallowed hard. “And when there’s nothing left?”

Silence.

Then, finally, he turned to you, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them.

"Why do I feel heaven on your skin? When I wanna be your eighth deadly sin?"

He leaned in, lips hovering over yours, voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“There’s always something left.”

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because no matter how much it burned, no matter how much it hurt—You’d both keep coming back for more.

Taglist: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @courta13 @Lacy1986 @chey-h

Navigation | Requests | Masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

© enemiestolovershoe. All rights reserved.

[dejavew]

precis: some of the infinite things that levi does that will never make you question the feelings he has for you. (bulletins)

content: fluff, just simple little things that levi shows how he loves or likes you

warnings: none, except for the fact that your friends are questionable in some of them.

⁠

❥ Walks to the park was always a part of your weekly routine. It wasn’t the walk itself that made it fun for you, but it was the scene that would entertain your eyes. Watching dogs, carelessly run around fetching frisbees, and tennis balls to return them back to their owners, and seeing people enjoy their time with the small little family that you hope you’ll be gifted one day.

However, these weren’t the reasons why you came.

It was the guy with the undercut who sat right under the shade, sipping what it look like to be tea in his hand, wearing his reading glasses, and scanning the contents of his book that kept you coming back to this very park every week.

You’d walk countless times around the park over and over for at least within an hour at least but under an hour and a half at most.

It made you feel like a creep. You couldn’t stand to imagine if a stranger did what you were doing, whether a man or a woman. That thought alone gave you an unsettling feeling. However, you couldn’t help the longing feeling of him being so familiar to him.

Still, it felt wrong.

You scrunch up your face. Resisting the urge to continue on being a creep, you let out a sigh. As much as you wanted a chance with this stranger, you knew that it shouldn’t happen this way. Please, give me a sign—you begged to whoever was writing your story.

And as you pass him once again, you got your answer.

Just beside his own cup of tea that he bought from the tea shop not too far, sat another cup of tea sat right beside him. Something your eyes were heedless to catch. It’s safe to assume that he’s waiting for his partner to arrive.

Instead of making a fuss about it, you nodded your head all while you continued to walk along the path so he wouldn’t know that you were staring. You accepted that maybe this wasn’t meant to be, and so instead of turning to go around the park a couple more times, you walked towards the entrance.

“Hey miss!” A light jog can be heard behind you.

You turn around, attracted to the sound and the sound that was addressing to you.

The guy with the undercut that sat under the shade. Was now the same guy who was face to face with you—only a couple feet in front of you.

“Fuck, I thought I’d have more time to think about what I was going to say.” You catch his mutter. “My names Levi. I noticed that you’d stare at me every time you took a walk here.”

Your face burns red. “I thought it was weird. But when I saw you do nothing but stare, so I became content with it.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh when nothing was said back to him. Just you and your dumbfounded face. He didn’t know what he was doing, he wasn’t confident in his skills of flirting, but yet, he persisted. “Look, I’m not really good at this, so let me make this short and simple. I bought you tea.” He points to where he sat, and sure enough the tea was still sitting next to his.

“I know it’s not smart to take things from strangers, but there’s something about you.” If possible your face reddens even more.

“If you’re not going to talk at least take the tea. I can save it for later, and we can go back to the tea shop to get another one.” He awkwardly sticks his pretty hands out for you to take.

This could be the sign that you were looking for, and so you take a leap of faith.

You place your hands in his, and you let him guide you back under the shade.

“My name’s Y/N.”

With matching shy and goofy grins, the two of you walk back to the place where he would catch you staring, and he would stare discreetly back too.

⁠❥ Nights out with your work friends were always the one thing you looked forward for on Fridays. You don’t have to worry about working the next day, or the day after.

It seemed like everything was going as planned. A karaoke room reserved for the six of you, everyone participating in the imaginary singing contest that was being held, the winner getting an imaginary one million cash prize, and the food, as well as the booze, was filling up all your stomachs.

Until it wasn’t.

“It’s alright guys, just make sure she gets home safe, and she doesn’t throw up anymore.” Worry etches on your face, you peak into the car and your sick friend was slump over the window, with the support of your other friend—who was rubbing her back.

They all say their quick goodbyes and tell you to be safe as the uber pulls out onto the main road, along with the owner of the karaoke spot, panicking about the vomit that was marinating the floor.

You were now alone.

Just hitting 1 am in the morning, you were now aware that you were standing under lamp spots that provided very limited light.

You knew Levi would be grumpy if you woke him up. With his luck, he’d be able to get at least four hours of sleep, but you also knew he’d be upset at you if he found out if you were transporting back home all by yourself.

After a couple of minutes, conflicted in your situation, you decide to call your boyfriend, Levi.

“Hey baby. I know it’s really late, but everyone left. Is it alright if you pick me up? I’m only about ten minutes away?” You chew on your thumb, nervously.

With no reply, you took it as a sign as annoyance. “I’m sorry Levi, I know I should’ve went—“

He cuts you off mid sentence, surprising you. “You don’t have to apologize, brat.”

“I’d rather you call me to pick you up late at night, than for you to try to get home, all alone.” You hear him get out of bed, sheets dancing as he moves out of them. “Also, who are your friends? Aren’t they supposed to make sure that you get home safe?”

“One of them got sick.” You let out a sigh remembering the different emotions everyone went through. “The uber that pulled up only had four open seats left.” You explained to him.

“I thought there were six of you.” You hear his car unlock, and the car door closing a few seconds later.

“One of my coworkers left an hour ago.”

He lets out an annoyed sigh after hearing where your coworkers were. “You’re gonna stay on call until I get to you. There’s no good reason why you should be by yourself at night baby.”

“I know. If I knew that tonight was going to end up this way, I would’ve planned way more.” You kick your legs trying to busy your body.

“Or just get new friends.” He teases.

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Maybe I should.”

Somehow, his car got to you within six minutes, instead of ten.

As he rolls down the window, and you capture his pretty face, you can’t help the giddy feeling you always get when you see him.

You get into the car, and buckle up. “Have I ever told you that I love you?” Trying to hide his shy smile, he looks away and coughs.

“I’m glad that you’re with me now, and not with your inconsiderate friends.” You smile at his words knowing that that was his way of saying I love you back.

⁠❥ ”Ugh I know! I haven’t ate some in a while.”

You were engaged with a phone call with your friend. The call was at least reaching twenty minutes old, and you just so happened to be in the same room as Levi.

Who was trying to do his work.

“I think it’s been-“ You try to calculate in your head. “Two months?”

“I’ve actually been craving for it recently.” You twirl the ends of your hair standing weirdly leaning on the wall.

Ever since you walked into where Levi does his work, which was ten minutes ago, his progress had slowed due to the constant and loud replies that your friend received.

“No, I used to—“ A small object hits your shoulder. “What the hell!”

You turn to face your boyfriend, giving you looks that could kill you. “Would it hurt to keep it down. Or at least go to another room?”

“Are you okay?” Your concerned friend asks on the other side of the line.

“Hold on girl. My boyfriend wants attention from me. Give me two minutes.” You mute yourself on call.

“Yes, it would hurt if I quieted down a bit. You should know.” You reference to the time you gave him the silent treatment for not even a full five hours, and he was bothering you every second, minute, and hour.

Knowing that you weren’t wrong, he scoffs. “What were you guys talking about anyways?”

Forgetting the fact that your boyfriend threw a pen at you, you get excited immediately. “Oh this one place that sells the best pastries! I haven’t had them in a while and—"

You squint your eyes at him, thinking you caught him in his little scheme. “Actually, I was talking to my friend about this bakery not my boyfriend.”

His eyebrows slightly rise, amused, as he watches you unmute the call, bringing the conversation to your right ear, and walk out the room.

You find yourself in the kitchen now, ready to continue on the conversation, letting Levi to finish up his work.

“I’m sorry about that. My boyfriend—who doesn’t know how to have fun.” You said that loud and clear and on purpose for him to hear. “But anyways it’s these little buns called warm bears because they feel warm, as if someone was giving you a bear hug.”

You pause to hear your friend’s question. “No, I just made that up. But they’re really called warm bears.”

The next day, after a long day of work, you celebrate quietly as the keys to open up to the apartment your shared with your boyfriend.

You mindfully place your work bag where it belongs, and take your shoes off by the door, knowing how Levi gets on you for the lack of tidiness you have compared to him. You walk past the living room, and head towards the kitchen, your stomach ready to eat.

But before you could check out the fridge, a familiar looking box, with new, updated designs on them, was sitting patiently to be open. Attached was on the top was a little sticky note on it with Levi’s handwriting.

‘For you brat, Levi.’

You open the box, and there, the aroma and the sight of warm bears stare right back at you.

Unlike all the other times, it wasn’t the warm pastries that warmed you up, but rather the little act of love your boyfriend continuously pulls off.

⁠❥ You felt awkward watching your friend show PDA with her new boyfriend. Is this how they all felt when you would invite Levi to tag along? Well, it’s not like Levi was one to be into extreme PDA. Anything that involved making out, sensual eye contact, dirty innuendos, or anything that should be kept private wasn’t his thing. He could handle hand-holding, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, having you walk inside of the sideway—to put it simple, the softer kind of PDA.

You were sat at a food court sitting across your friend, trying to get some rest from the two hours of walking around the mall. What you thought was just going to be you and her, turned out a thirdwheel trip for you.

So as you watch your friend maul her boyfriend’s face off in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed.

So naturally to avoid letting your friend know that you were repulsed, even though there was no way she would notice given the fact that she had her face smushed against his, you go and text your boyfriend.

Hey babe. You desperately wait for his reply. And in an instant your phone goes off.

Hi sweetheart. You smile, completely forgetting—what you consider—live porn in front of you.

Your fingers excitedly type back, I’m really bored.

Bored? I’d be annoyed if my friend who asked me to hang out with her was making out with her boyfriend.

Confused on how he guessed right with the lack of information that you gave him, you look around the area for his figure.

Where are you? You text him, after failing to do so.

You wait for his reply, that now suddenly stopped die off. You kissed your teeth, closing the app, to scroll endlessly on social media. Eager to ignore the third wheel feeling, you wanted to see people’s stories. Unfortunately, your face cringes, seeing that the first post you see, was the same exact friend who was making out in front of you.

You let out a defeated sigh, close the app, and turn your phone off. Only to gaze off into the sidewalk wondering where your boyfriend could be.

A pair of shoes shows up in your field of vision. But too involved with your daydreaming, and your goal of avoiding at looking at your friend who was now flirting shamelessly with her boyfriend, you ignore whoever stopped in front of you.

“Are you just gonna stare off into oblivion or are you going to take my hand?” Your head snaps to Levi.

Now filling your heart up with relief, you take his hand, and stand up to greet him with a tight hug. Unlike the couple across from the two of you, you gave Levi a quick kiss on the cheek as a little thank you, and he gives a small smile.

This gets your friend and her partner to look at the two of you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was with one of my friends who wanted to buy something for their partner.” He points to his friend, you recognize them as Hange, who in return waves back with a gigantic smile. “And I just so happened to see you.”

“Perfect timing.” Your friend’s boyfriend chimes in. “That means we won’t need to get you home.”

Your friend who was a little embarrassed by his comment hits his thigh. “Babe you don’t say things like that.”

“It’s alright, we can drop her off.” She says to Levi, with a polite smile.

With a deadpan, Levi looks at the boyfriend, and it’s clear that he already made the decision that he doesn’t like him. “No it’s alright. Thanks for considering it though.” He says only to your friend.

“Just remember for future reference.” He glares at the guy next to her. “If your girlfriend was hanging out with me and Y/N. She wouldn’t need to worry about her ride bailing on her, whether you show up or not.”

Levi turns back to you, his expression now soft, and his hand grabs yours. “Let’s call it a day then darling.”

And with that, he walks off—not wasting another second talking with a guy who couldn’t even do the bare minimum—with you towards his friend, backs now turned to the couple as he whispers, “she deserves way better than that guy.”

You giggle, agreeing with his statement.

⁠❥ “I promise I’m not going to fall.”

There you stood confidently a few feet from the floor. You so stubbornly wanted to grab a book that was inconveniently stored at the very top of a bookshelf in Levi’s office. Your arms were stretched out to its maximum length, but with no use, you barely touched the base shelf that the book sat on.

“Hold on.” Only looking up at the book that was calling your name. “I can grab it I swear!” Levi was next to you, worried that you could fall at any moment.

I mean look at you. On your toes of the highest step of the stool, with one leg trying to push you to somehow go higher.

“Babe you can seriously get hurt.” His arms were angled in a way where you would fall bridal style in his arms if you were to fall.

“Let me get the damn book for you.” His words filled with stress.

He was stressed even more when he sees you, still on your toes, but now jumping like it was going to help you at all. Miraculously, it was working. You managed to swipe the book your way, and with each small jump and your hand swiping continuously, it inched towards you.

You feel a smile grow on your face, knowing that you could prove that you could do it yourself. As the book got closer to the edge, where you could grab it, you swear you felt like you could conquer the world. You were almost there!

Yes! The feeling of accomplishing something so small made you feel good.

And then you landed wrong.

Eyes now wide, pride now spilling out from you, you feel your body slowly pull towards the ground. You swipe at the air, hoping that you could grab on to something, but of course it was too late.

You were about to hit the ground.

Twenty minutes later, here you two are at the hospital getting both your injuries checked out. The whole car ride you couldn’t even look at Levi. Not because you were scared that he was going to crash into something, because he did hit his head when you landed on him. But at the fact that he was silent the whole car ride not even bothering to hum in response.

Seeing an ice pack on his head, and your foot naked—for the doctor to check out—while you sat on the hospital bed. You knew you fucked up big time.

Instead of admitting to your mistake to your concussed boyfriend, you instead let the pride sit in your chest, and wear your head high.

“Babe, why would try and catch me?”

Levi looks slowly to you, as he sits next to you on another hospital bed. The two of you looking hopelessly.

“I’m asking myself the same exact thing.” His face cringes after finishing off his sentence.

Of course now fully observing him, your pride shamefully hides somewhere in you. Feeling a bit foolish at the situation you got you and your ever so loving boyfriend in. Over a damn book too.

“Don’t give me that look.” He says. He adjusts his position, facing the ceiling, and he closes his eyes

“You look pitiful.”

Scratch that. It looks like your pride was starting to show itself again. “Alright then. As soon as I start to say my wrongs, you want to comment on how sad I look.”

He doesn’t reply for a couple of seconds. Letting his beating head calm down, and his eyes open slowly. He looks back at you, lips in a pout and your arms across your chest.

“That’s not what I meant brat.” He hisses at the sentence.

“I meant you shouldn’t apologize, because no matter what the outcome was going to be, I was going to be right beside you the whole entire time.” Again he moves his head back to face the ceiling.

“You did alright trying to get the book.” You almost laughed at his stubborn semi compliment. “But next time. Let me do it.”

“So what I'm hearing is that you’ll be there for me through any life crisis that I go through.”

“That we go through. Also getting a book is not a life crisis. But you know what is? Hearing any more talking. Now shut up.” He cringes again turning away from you.

You smile at his grumpiness.

“I love you too.” You whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

What he was able to hide from you was a big fond smile that matched yours.

In the end, whether Levi had enough or ran out of patience with you, he knew that you were made for him. Even when life threw constant obstacles at you, none of it mattered, because what truly mattered to him was the fact that he was with you to experience it all together.

As well as the next lifetime, and the next, and the next…

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hi hi I'm a new anon in your vicinity and I just need to rant about this like blatant racism

I'm in highschool, I was 16 at the time, and I was in the theater program. I was a part of the props crew and out area was very secluded and had no cameras so obviously it was the place to vape and everyone did it including me and a lot of my friends. One day the smell got really strong and at the next meeting the head of props was confronted by the director about it and they panicked and gave him a list that included me. Obviously I freak out after they told me like anyone would do but ultimately the director never ended up telling anyone's parents.

Fast forward to the interviews for the next theater production and the director asks me about the vaping thing. I think "Oh okay you did still care cool glad that's all this came to." and I tell my friends about it because he gave me a funny look.

Turns out I was the only person he ever asked about the vaping situation. Wanna know what the rest of my friends have in common that I don't? They're all white. I was the only Black person to get caught up in that situation and I was the only person to be directly confronted about it after he had received the list of vapers. The only one.

Everyone likes to pretend this director is so great but this is not the first or the last time he's shown he clearly holds a negative bias against Black people. Another more prominent example being his refusal to take the necessary steps to have Black actors get proper hair and makeup. The hair crew is white and they don't have experience with textured hair and expected the actors to just deal with it. He refused to let makeup use proper shades of makeup to match a Black complexion he's acting like they're white and they end up looking stupid because they have makeup 50 shades lighter than the rest of their body because he won't acknowledge that the same makeup doesn't work on everyone. It's not like we lack the money or people because we absolutely have every resource we need to do that it's just him not wanting it.

"16 at the time" lol you said that like you were so young, baby you can't be that much older 🤣

And that's incredibly unfortunate to hear, and unfortunately not an uncommon experience when you get into the acting or modeling world as a career, either. I hate that he's putting y'all through that so young, but these teachers be hella racist out here.

Does every Black theatre kid have a racist story 😅 I had a white classmate that LOVED saying the n-word. Like, would say it as an expletive or just for fun, like how you'd say "fuck". No one ever did anything, the other Black theatre kids just kind of rolled their eyes. I personally didn't swing on him bc I was trying to go to college and not jail, but MAN I look back and I shoulda.

So. I don't wanna say start a riot bc the school to prison pipeline is every thirsty for Black children but... Might be time to talk to your parents about the guy. Especially when he's got y'all out there 40 shades lighter and poorly lit for no reason. That is something that can be easily addressed if enough of you speak up about it. Because how can he "let" y'all do anything, if y'all brought the right foundation and said "put it on my face". But you shouldn't have to do that.