#and that's not even covering my worries about my friends and politics and everything else. just my corner of frustrations.

[kuwdora]

heyo tumblr friendos, what is bringing you joy and respite these days? get into a new show lately? eat a nice food? does anyone have any cute animal pictures to share? what are you all reading? or writing? late stage capitalism is wearing me down. I'm clinging to my vid WIP like it's a buoy lest my anxiety send me into a spiral.

[kafka-ish]

I want to be Art’s dealer when he needs an eighth after one of his games. I want him to get my number from Patrick because he’s new to this & doesn’t know anyone or anywhere else to get it. Hey, u got any weed? He texts him.

Not on me.

Shit.

I know I’ve been going crazy

Do u know anyone?

The next message is your number. No name. No address. Nothing. But Art’s desperate for a cool down that doesn’t include a tub of ice or a communal sauna. He’s going out on a limb here—hitting send as soon as Patrick relays the message. Nothing too suspicious. You’re at home when you receive a text from an unknown sender.

Maybe Art: Hey, Patrick gave me ur number. This is Art

Come by around 9

You tell him which dorm.

Maybe Art: Okay

He’s at your door at nine sharp, still in his tennis uniform. He’s sweaty from practice, nervously gripping his racket bag and wondering if he should knock or text. Obviously he’s never done this.

He knocks. Doesn’t expect to be met with a girl half his size on the other side. Maybe you’re just the dude’s girlfriend and you happen to be over and end up answering. And in that case he really shouldn’t be looking but he can’t help it. Your hair is wet like you just got done showering. Your shorts ride up, or maybe he’s just imagining things. But he’s not imagining your shirt that’s see-through and barely covers your abdomen. He introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Art.” Maybe that’ll clear up the confusion.

“Yeah you texted me earlier. Come on in.” You leave the door open. You also leave Art dumbfounded.

Art makes sure to shut the door behind him but he doesn’t sit down. Stands awkwardly by the entrance, wondering what he should do with his bag, thumbing the strap.

“So Patrick sent you, huh?” Your voice comes from the kitchen and Art nods even though you can’t see him. He realizes this and dumbly says yes. You look up from the counter, sandwich bag in hand, and you smile at Art who’s fiddling his thumbs by the doorway. “You can sit down. Make yourself at home.”

"Cool." He settles down on your couch, looking around the place, trying not to be obvious even though it is. You smile, wanting to relax him. That's what he's here for, isn't it? His tennis bag is at his feet and he rests his hands on his knees, trying to take up as little space as possible.

"I won't bite, you know," you say, sitting next to him. You place a scale on the coffee table next to a tray of weed that's already been ground. About an ounce, though Art's never seen that much weed at one time. The only time he smokes is with Patrick every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know. I just--"

"What? Is this your first time or something?"

"No! I--I mean. Buying yes." His cheeks are red.

"Okay well don't worry. It's real easy." Art nods. Believes this. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Now I know why Patrick sent you to me."

"Sometimes it's easy." You laugh. Like an inside joke you have but only with yourself. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine." And Art gives you this look. Like it is fine. Keep going. Explain everything to me. He wants to know the basics, the hard stuff and everything in between. You just shake your head. Ask how much he needs. "How much do people usually get?"

"Depends on the person." You shrug.

"How much does Patrick get?"

"Like an ounce. Half if he's short on cash." Art raises his eyebrow, shocked he didn't know that about his friend.

"So I should get an ounce," Art says. More of a question than a statement. He's testing the waters. Putting himself out there.

"How much do you smoke?" You push back. You want him to be careful. You also can't risk putting a super hot new customer in danger.

"Honestly? Only with Patrick." He's bashful when he admits this. You probably think he's lame now and totally off your radar. You're never gonna let him step foot into this apartment let alone sell to him again.

"Yeah you don't need an ounce," you say smiling, thinking of how he came in all politely with his tennis racket just like a puppy, tail tucked nervously between its legs, not knowing if he should stand or sit, silently observing your things. He has a good head on his shoulder with a future ahead of him and here you are selling him weed. Who are you to take advantage of such a thing just because Patrick sent him?

"So what do I need?"

"Probably some melatonin and a really good massage. But I'll give you an eighth and pretend like this never happened." This is the first time you've felt bad about selling. You take a jar from a drawer. There's even more weed in it than on the table, but in clumps. Green wads with streaks of purple. You set each on the scale in individuals first before packaging his pile in the bag you grabbed from earlier. "Here."

"How much?"

"On me this time. Think of it as a sample. You got a grinder or you smoking with Patrick?" Art's at a loss for words. He wants to pay you. He has cash too. He'll take you out to dinner. Instead he just says

"No, I, uh. Don't."

"Want me to roll you a joint?"

But before he can say anything you already find yourself folding a zig-zag with the filter, scooping the weed you have out with your fake nail into the paper. Art watches your hands. An expert at work. He thinks how everyone has their own niche and this is yours, just like how he has the tennis court.

When you walk him out you tell him to be safe. You're still smiling. You've never been this happy to not get money. He's about to leave but says, "I can pay, you know. I want this to be an honest transaction and everything."

"Art, I'm a drug dealer."

"Yeah, well--"

"Bye, Artie."

[mclacedes]

The Idea of You (LN4)

2. The Idea of Worthiness

summary: in which lando decides to make it up for ghostin you

previous ••• next

WARNINGS: it's pretty much all angst. in-depth described anxiety attack, anxious behaviour/mannerisms, description of depression and suicidal ideation, loneliness

wc: 3k

“but what if i can't do it?”

A/N: before anything else, i want to make it clear that my intention is NOT to trigger any kind of trauma in anyone with this. the reader has been warned of potential triggers. if you are going through some kind of psychological hardship, know that there are people who care and who worry <3 you are never 100% alone!

january 1st, 2024 — 3:30pm

you came home with a knot in your chest that seemed to tighten with every breath. the morning had been a blur, an awkward dance around lando’s mother as you searched for a polite excuse to leave.

of course you'd chosen the most simple and non-negotiable of lies: i need to spend some time with my relatives.

despite it being faintly true, you knew you'd spend the whole day with lando's family if the circumstances were different.

the night's words lingered in your mind as you walked out, wishing it could cover the truth: you couldn’t bear the thought of facing lando after what had happened—or rather, after what didn’t happen.

now, the silence in your own home was suffocating. you slumped onto the couch, your mind replaying the scene on a loop: lando's words, lando's reassurance, the way his lips had bruised yours, the heat of his breath so close, his hands on you, his hands in you, his fingers’ magic, and then... you wake up alone.

now, you knew lando felt the same, you knew that things could work out, you knew just the intensity of your feelings for him. but you also knew he hadn't texted you back all day and, seemingly, nobody knew where he was.

as his closest friend, you knew that he'd only have left that way if something really bad had happened.

what you didn't know though, was how bad it felt for him.

it had been a long time since lando had received the diagnosis. after years of wondering what was wrong with him and why he felt such a void within himself, he'd been told he had depression.

what they say is that treatment is easier when you have the right diagnosis, but that doesn't erase the fact that some days were infinitely more difficult than others—harder to get out of bed, harder to leave the house, to work, and singularly hard to live, specially because the latter is the last thing you want during a depressive episode.

he started going to therapy regularly when he was a minor, forced by his parents, but when he became an adult he left—said that talking about how horrible he felt wouldn't help, it would only make him feel worse.

and then the episodes gradually became worse as his life improve. for example, before arriving in F1, he oftentimes found himself fighting against the urge to simply end it all: the pain, the suffering, the disruption, the constant failed attempt at a better day, his very life.

even though he never attempted it, lando was caught contemplating the possibility of the end; he used to wonder how people would react when they heard "lando norris died, suicide", what it would be like if he wasn't here anymore.

“such a kind soul”

“such a beautiful boy”

“smart, funny”

“talented guy”

that's what people would say, in the best of cases.

in the worse of cases people wouldn't even notice he was gone.

well, following next to depression was anxiety.

lando’s anxiety was a constant undercurrent to his depression, feeding off it, amplifying it, tangling him further in a web of self-doubt. it was always there, an invisible weight pressing down, but some days it grew loud enough to silence every other part of him, like a swarm of thoughts buzzing incessantly, trapping him in a looping worry about everything and nothing all at once.

it started with racing—the very thing he loved was also the source of his most unrelenting fears. despite his undeniable talent and the acclaim he’d earned, the worry always crept in: what if i mess up? what if i’m not good enough? what if it’s all just a fluke, and one day everyone realizes i’m a fraud?

he dreaded that moment when the lights turned green, not because of the physical danger but because of the psychological toll—that split-second when any mistake, any misstep, could spiral out into a visible, unforgivable failure.

even beyond racing, the anxiety spilled into every facet of his life. he overthought every message he sent, every interaction, analyzing them for any hint of rejection, any confirmation of his worst fears. if he didn’t receive a response right away, his mind spun stories, convincing him he’d somehow upset the person or made a fool of himself.

and now, with you, it was worse. his feelings were tangled with worry and doubt; he feared you’d eventually see through his flaws, his bad days, his cracks, and walk away. the closeness you’d shared the night before terrified him. he wanted you desperately, yet that desire to let you in also exposed him to his greatest fear: that he would scare you away merely by the fact that he existed.

this anxiety could sometimes send him into a state of paralysis, leaving him unable to reach out, unable to bridge the gap even when he wanted nothing more than to feel your presence, to hear your voice. today was one of those days—the aftermath of a moment so perfect, so vulnerable, that his mind filled with a thousand worries. he couldn’t bring himself to message you, to even show you the rawness of his internal struggle. instead, he withdrew, waiting for the fog to clear enough for him to reach for you again.

but you had tried.

you: lando hey

you: i'm worried abt u

you: text me whenever u get the chance pls

you: i'm right here if you wanna talk”

there were another 20 texts of kindred nature from you in his phone—you spent the afternoon rewinding what had happened, wondering if there were any signs that he would do something to himself or… the devil god knows what.

you had barely moved or done anything at all since you had gotten home because lando still hadn’t texted back, and the worry in your chest was growing impossible to ignore.

you’d known him for years—long enough to see the shadows he kept hidden behind his easy smile. he had always brushed off the subject, deflecting it with humor or quick changes in conversation. but today, his silence was colder, sharper, more unsettling than usual.

hours had passed since you last saw him, and finally, you gave in and sent him a message, trying not to let the desperation seep through.

you: lando, i hope you’re alright. let me know when you’re home safe, ok?

the message delivered, but no ‘read’ receipt appeared. your heart sank, and as you stared at the screen, scenarios spun wildly in your mind.

lando was good at hiding. he knew how to pour himself into everything and everyone else, keeping busy, laughing, entertaining—until he couldn’t. when the episodes came, he retreated so far into himself that it was like trying to find someone in a pitch-black room.

you tried calling him. the line rang and rang, finally going to voicemail. your voice was barely a whisper as you left a message.

“lando… if you see this, please just… come home. or let me know you’re okay. i’m here, alright? no matter what, i’m here.”

when the call ended, the silence in your apartment felt just as cold as his void.

—

unbeknownst to you, he was okay.

at least that's what he said to max when he called saying cisca was worried about him. and thats what he said when he called his mom.

“i’m okay.”

but he knew there was nothing okay with him right now.

far away, in his silent retreat, a wave of coldness washed over him, and his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. that feeling in his chest was known: he was panicking.

it felt like the walls were closing in, a vice squeezing his chest tighter with every passing second. his hands trembled, fingers twitching as if searching for something to anchor him, to ground him in reality. he fought to keep his breathing steady, but the more he tried, the more elusive calm became. memories of your kiss haunted him—both a balm and a wound. how could something so beautiful leave him feeling so lost?

what if i’m not enough for her? he thought

a tight knot of fear formed in his stomach, mingling with the ache of longing. was he really ready for this? for you? for love? the questions spiraled, colliding with the weight of his own expectations and the pressure of his career. he couldn’t shake the sense that he was on the brink of something monumental, yet all he felt was the crushing weight of uncertainty.

the doubt crept in, fueled by echoes of his past, whispers of inadequacy that had followed him through the years. he recalled the stinging memories of being told he wasn’t good enough, of moments when his efforts felt like they never quite measured up. every trophy he’d won and every incredible milestone he had achieved done little to silence those voices. instead, they morphed into an insidious belief that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be a step behind, always falling short.

what if she hates me?

with you, the stakes felt impossibly high. what if he couldn’t be the partner you deserved? what if the pressure of the spotlight overwhelmed him and drove you away? those thoughts twisted in his gut, feeding the anxiety that swelled within him. he imagined you in a world where he wasn’t there, finding someone who could offer you the stability and unwavering support he feared he lacked. the very thought crushed him, deepening the ache in his chest, as it reminded him of all the times he had to fight for validation, only to come up empty-handed.

he was scared of what loving you meant, terrified of failing you, terrified of failing himself. the weight of it all felt unbearable, a heavy blanket of dread that threatened to suffocate him.

what if i fail her?

lando was too scared, too anxious. with every breath, his lungs ached, and with every tear that gathered in his eyes, he felt weaker. it was as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath him, and the vast unknown loomed below—a place filled with possibilities but also with the risk of falling into darkness. he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to ground himself as the rising tide of emotions threatened to pull him under.

every heartbeat felt like a reminder of his vulnerability, a painful pulse that echoed the uncertainty gnawing at his core. he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something profound, yet all he could focus on was the suffocating fear of not being enough. the love he felt for you, so pure and intoxicating, was also a heavy burden, weighed down by his past failures and fears. the thought of letting you down, of not living up to the promise of what could be, sent chills racing down his spine.

she's too perfect, i'm a mess

as tears spilled over and streamed down his cheeks, he felt a mix of shame and desperation. lando had always prided himself on being strong, on facing challenges head-on, yet here he was—vulnerable and exposed, battling an internal storm that felt relentless. the very act of loving you felt like a gamble, one that he wasn't sure he was ready to take. would he be brave enough to step forward, to embrace the chaos of his heart, or would he retreat back into the safety of his own fears?

with every sob that escaped him, the overwhelming tide of emotion pulled him deeper, and he struggled to keep his head above water. the thought of calling you, of reaching out for the connection he craved, felt both necessary and terrifying. what if you saw him like this—raw, broken, and afraid? what if he could never find the words to explain what he felt, or worse, what if you saw him as nothing more than a disappointment?

what if she saw me for who i truly am?

taking a shaky breath, he reached for his phone thrown on the couch, sitting on it. his hands were still trembling as he dialed the only person, besides you, who he knew wouldn't judge, but understand him.

“hey, mate, how you doing?” max fewtrell greeted him with his usual easy grin, only for the smile to falter the second he took in lando’s state: tears streaked his face, his eyes swollen and red, his nose and cheeks raw from wiping at them. his lips, split and bloodied, told the story of how he’d been biting them all day. lando’s breath hitched in his throat, his words barely making it out.

“hey… mate, i—” he tried, but the lump in his throat choked him. lando couldn’t even speak.

“lando, what happened?” max said, his voice low and steady, concern etched across his face.

“i think i… i fucked things up with Y/N,” lando's voice cracked, desperation pouring from him as if his world was unraveling right there in front of max.

the sight in front of max sent a chill through his spine. lando's looks, disheveled, like he’d been pulling at it in frustration all day. his bright green eyes were dulled, sunken and rimmed with red. the bags beneath them were dark, a stark contrast against his pale skin. his hands trembled on his knees, unable to steady themselves. his chest heaved, like the panic was consuming him from the inside, leaving only a fragile shell of the person max had known for years.

lando wiped at his face, the back of his hand coming away wet. he shook his head, sinking deeper into the couch.

“we kissed, we slept together and i pushed her away, max. i—i could’ve stayed. i could’ve—” his breath caught again, ragged and uneven. “but i left with no explanation. i went up and left her there, max… i’m so stupid.” he cried out.

lando’s breath hitched, and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. his shoulders shook, and a sob escaped him, raw and unfiltered. he hadn’t felt this way in a long time—like he was too broken to be loved.

"max, i’m a mess," he whispered, his voice cracking. "i couldn’t stay, i couldn’t even look at her this morning because… because she deserves better. i mean, look at me," he gestured to himself, his hands trembling. “i’m fucked up, max. i couldn’t even say the words, couldn’t even be honest. how can i be with her when i don’t even know what’s going on in my own head?”

max’s brows furrowed, his face softening as he listened. lando looked like he was spiraling, and it hurt max to see his best friend like this—feeling like he didn’t deserve something good because he was caught in his own storm.

“lando, mate,” max started, carefully choosing his words, “you’re not as messed up as you think you are. yeah, you’ve got stuff going on, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve her, or that you don’t deserve to be happy. and running away from her because you think you’re too broken for her… that’s not the answer.”

lando shook his head, wiping at his eyes, his voice trembling as he spoke. “but i am broken, max. i don’t even know how to deal with my own shit, let alone someone else’s. she’s this… this amazing person, and i’m just… i’m just me. she deserves someone who has it all figured out, not someone who’s going to bolt the second things get real.”

max let out a breath, leaning forward a bit. “no one has it all figured out, lando. not me, not her, not anyone. she’s not expecting you to be perfect, she’s expecting you to be real with her. that’s all. and yeah, maybe you’re not in the best place right now, but you can’t let that be the reason you push her away.”

lando let the words sink in, but it didn’t ease the heaviness inside him. “i left because i thought… i thought i’d hurt her more by staying. i didn’t want her to see me like this. i didn’t want her to see how much of a mess i am.”

“but by leaving, you hurt her anyway,” max said gently. “because she cares about you. and if you care about her too, you’ve got to let her in, even if it’s messy, even if you don’t have all the answers. it’s okay to not have everything together, lando. it’s okay to be scared. but you can’t run from this.”

lando swallowed hard, staring at the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch until his knuckles turned white. max was right. he had run—run because he didn’t think he was good enough, run because the idea of her seeing all his cracks terrified him.

“but what if i can’t do it? what if i let her down again?” lando’s voice was barely audible now, thick with doubt.

max’s expression softened even more. “then you figure it out, together. but you’ve got to give her the chance to make that choice. don’t decide for her that you’re not good enough. let her in. let her see you, even the parts you’re scared to show. that’s how you build something real.”

lando’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his heart pounding in his chest. the thought of opening up like that—to be fully seen, in all his messiness, all his vulnerability—scared him more than any race ever had. but the thought of losing Y/N, of pushing her away because of his own fear… that scared him even more.

“yeah, sure,” lando whispered, his voice hoarse. “i need to talk to her. i need to fix this.”

max smiled softly, relief flickering in his eyes. “yeah, mate. you do.”

after bidding his best friend farewell, lando sat and tried to calm himself down by pressing his fingers with exposed raw flesh due to the fact he had gnawed at his own hands out of anxiety. he had to come up with something to make it up to you. he needed to.

TAGGINGS: @meglouise00 @rawr-123s-stuff

[wonysugar]

self indulgent drabble because 1. writer’s block is truly eating my ass and 2. i just got struck with an idea as i heard an audio and i need to get it out of my system before i lose my motivation.. AND WHAT BETTER WAY TO DO THAT THAN WITH BELLEEE?!?

cw!! cheating(??) just to be safe, fem!reader is dating someone that’s amab! mentions of threesomes, lots, lots of dick mentions and dick sucking, if you don’t like dick at all this isn’t for you i’m really sorry</3

psst, by the way, p/n stands for partner name!

you and your partner have an amazing relationship, and an even better sex life, that much was obvious. although you both were content, you couldn’t help but feel the desire to improve your technique in certain.. aspects, of your love-making, mainly in terms of oral sex.

google was definitely not helping, and you were a bit too embarrassed to go and ask your significant other on feedback after having sex with them (despite how normal that actually is, contrary to popular belief.)

so, naturally, receiving your friend annabelle in your apartment a few days after having scheduled a, in her wise words, ‘important meeting’ wasn’t at all a surprise for you, especially since you made sure that p/n wasn’t at home at that time.

“hii!” belle stepped foot into your home as soon as you opened the door, immediately giving you a warm hug, thankful you even called her in here in the first place.

after politely offering her a cup of water and a bowl of snacks as thanks, she quickly got to work.

“alright, you were too nervous to explain it through text, so go ahead. what are the specifics here?” she asked, comically very serious about this whole thing.

you sighed, feeling the embarrassment leaving with each breath you exhaled, “it’s just— i think i have a problem when it comes to… you know.. my gag reflex, and all.”

“ah, i see..” she hummed, “‘problem’ is definitely a strong word though, no? oral sex isn’t a requirement, you know that better than anyone else, considering you’ve been with your partner for a while with no issues. i’m assuming you just want to learn to get them more riled up, huh?”

you stared, almost innocently, then nodded at the words.

“have you ever sucked dick before?” she continued, speaking as if this were a real professional appointment.

she chuckled upon seeing you reluctantly shake your head, “don’t worry sweetheart, by the time that we’re done, you’ll be able to take cock better than any porn star has.”

reaching for her large, seemingly filled-up backpack you had noticed her holding whilst walking in before digging into it. after a few seconds of anticipation, you saw your friend pull out a medium sized dildo, a slightly longer one and a much larger and more girthy than the previous ones.

“y-you brought stuff!?”

noticing how your blood rushed to your now fully covered face, she giggled, “of course i brought stuff y/n, i don’t think you realize how serious i’m actually taking this.” proceeding to pull out one more interesting looking item, “come on, you asked me for help, right? no need to get embarrassed now, girl.”

so you listened, and watched as she finished up preparing the materials, placing them in a line.

“alright, listen up.” she zipped the bag closed, threw it somewhere on the couch you two were sat on and sat up straight, motioning for you to do the same, and pointed to the first thing, “this is throat relaxant spray, like the name suggests, it relaxes your throat and your gag reflex, making it easier. now, i don’t really use it considering my gag reflex is practically non-existent,” you nodded at her words, your eyes fixed on said spray.

“but i did bring it thinking you’d maybe wanna start off slow just to be safe? maybe get used to the feeling of it in your mouth before going in raw and everything, but it’s honestly all up to you and what you wanna do.”

several minutes of her overexplaining the reasoning behind bringing each sanitized and differently sized dildo later, you eventually chose the format you found most similar to your partner’s and decided to opt out of the relaxant spray, much to annabelle’s pleasant surprise.

it didn’t take long before she stuck the phallic object to your wall and instructed you to suck on it the same way you would any other day. “don’t be nervous, i’m here to help.” she said, and that was somehow enough to put you at ease.

you began to do what you were told, fully aware that her attention was set on you, and you only. your lips wrapped around the head, you sucked and left gentle kisses whilst she watched you work your magic on the dildo. you heard occasional hums from beside you as you kept your mouth around the same area of the dick.

“you’re doing good, but, aren’t you spending a little bit too much time on the head?” she placed, making you pull away from the object before you, “i know you’ll gag, but try to give some attention to the entirety of the dick. here, let me show you.”

she scooted towards you, and you simply stared at her, “oh— we’re using the same.. dildo?”

“..yeah? it’s just a little spit.” her lips formed a smirk, “just watch me, okay?”

you nodded and sat there, watching her demonstrate her blowjob technique and feeling yourself get… weirdly turned on by the sight, instead of feeling ‘taught’, in a sense. the way she slowly worked her way up from kissing and licking the head to fitting the entire shaft into her mouth, almost effortlessly, got you thinking about how she’d give your partner head, guiding you on how to pleasure them further than you usually do— alright let’s not get ridiculous, you internally scolded yourself, leave the dirty fantasies for later, when you aren’t trying to learn from her.

“see how i did that? you can’t just focus on the head forever, that’s why i like to slightly pump the shaft with my hand whenever i’m not throating.”

“honestly just sounds like you’re just trying to brag, at this point.” you joked, faking an annoyed expression. that earned a laugh from her.

then, after a constant cycle that consisted of her explaining things and you doing them, annabelle had taken the dildo off of the wall whilst wearing a mischievous expression on her face. “now, let’s kick things up a notch; get on your knees.”

your eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened ever so slightly at her words, you stuttered, “excuse… excuse me?—“

“i said, get on your knees.”

and despite getting no further explanations, you still, for some unknown reason, did exactly as you were told. now sitting on the ground facing the sofa, you waited for further instructions.

“you need to get immersed.” she paused, then held up the dildo, “so, i’ll hold it for you and thrust it into your mouth while you suck it, alright? i won’t go fast or anything, so don’t worry about that.”

and of course, you obliged.

upon her signal, you immediately applied everything that she’s been teaching you throughout this entire session onto your technique, fueled by her occasional praise.

“remember to use your tongue, y/n.” she reminded, thrusting the cock in and out of your mouth, slowly, watching you as if she could feel it.

“suck the tip and—“ you bobbed your head down onto the shaft, taking in as much length as you could without gagging. “—work your way down, that’s it baby, slowly.”

oh man, that pet name definitely elicited a reaction from you that you did not expect; you felt butterflies in your stomach, almost certain that a pool was growing in between your legs.

she definitely noticed it, too. how could she miss it when you’re looking up at her like she was the one you were sucking off?

“awe, you’re getting excited, aren’t you?” she bit her lip as she tucked your hair behind your ear, “such an eager girl, suck on it baby.”

she let out quiet, airy moans as you worked your magic, in hopes to get you more and more immersed, and while it did, it also did nothing but get you riled up to a great extent. hell, you were practically drooling onto her— the cock at that point. “look at you, not even a few hours in and you’re already doing so good. mmh, you look so pretty taking it, too.”

that went on for a while, and what she didn’t tell you was that that dildo in particular, was an ejaculating one, you found that out by yourself later on.

needless to say, you felt especially different when you eventually walked her out of your apartment an hour later, and she couldn’t help but notice how still visibly embarrassed you were from that weirdly intimate interaction, but she found it amusing, endearing, almost.

“next time, you’ll invite p/n to tag along, won’t you?”

[suhnandmoon]

beat it!

chapter four: written part below (wc: 800)

pairing: slytherin beater!riki x hufflepuff chaser!reader

riki had let a day pass after the incident before he allowed himself to wander into the hospital wing to find you. he figured your friends would have visited you the day prior when everything went down, leaving him with open time to talk the next morning.

it was around 10am when he arrived to see you sound asleep in one of the infirmary’s cots. he figured it was late enough to wake you up, though he completely discarded any notion that you might have needed that extra rest after the unfortunate blow to your head.

he lightly tapped your shoulder, the small ounce of empathy left in him allowing him to be gentle in that moment. he waited as you stirred slightly. your eyes fluttered open a few seconds later, met with his expecting gaze.

“have i slept in too long?” you groggily asked, attempting to figure out who was in front of you. you studied the boy’s features in your tired daze as if looking closer at him might bring a memory back.

“uh– no.” he answered curly. it hadn’t hit him until now that in order to trick you into being nice to him, he had to be nice to you in return. his mind scrambled for something to say to you before he spoke up, “i just came here to make sure you weren’t mad at me.”

his pride held him back from offering you a real apology, even in this situation.

“oh, um. i’m not sure if you heard–” you quietly responded to the slytherin, “i lost my memories after the match. could you tell me why i would be mad at you?” 

for too many reasons. riki thought to himself. he knew you didn’t remember him, but your polite tone was so foreign to him, it was throwing him off completely. 

“i was the one who accidentally hit you yesterday.” he confessed, subconsciously wincing as he waited for an upset reaction.

your eyes widened slightly.

“well, it was an accident, right? that must mean you’re a pretty good beater if your throws are that strong.” you unexpectedly complimented him. riki would’ve basked in that compliment if it wasn’t for the odd sensation of guilt creeping in on him.

“er- thank you. i was worried you were mad at me.” he lied through his teeth, beginning to make an effort to inch away from your cot. he didn’t think it was right to keep this up longer. the way you were staring intently at him had him shifting in his spot.

you examined the boy, paying no mind to his discomfort. there was something oddly familiar about him. it was a familiarity that none of your previous visitors brought.

“what was your name again?” you asked in hope that maybe his name would bring something back to you– even if it was just a small memory. your question stopped him from finding an exit out of the conversation.

“nishimura riki.” 

you repeated the name he gave you under your breath. you knew this name, just not the boy in front of you.

“riki.. i remember your name, but not much else.” you were basically studying him at this point, as if you were close to a revelation- though riki wasn’t too sure that revelation was coming anytime soon, but he drew closer to you, knowing you’d want to chat with him more. it would be worse on him if he just abruptly left. 

“were we friends?” 

riki sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. he debated if he should’ve kept up with his lie to make things simpler. coming out and saying ‘no! you actually hated me!’ might’ve been too much to explain. he just wanted to say yes and find his way out of there.

“yeah, kinda.” his words were short, but it still had your eyes lighting up as if you were making progress. 

he hated to admit that sunoo was right, but he regretted even stepping foot into the hospital wing.

“we’re a part of different crowds, though. i don’t think your friends even knew that we were friends.” he added that last part just in case you accidentally blew his cover by mentioning him to anyone.

“hm, why would they not know? we weren’t secretly seeing each other, right?” your blunt thought process had riki stifling a cough at the idea, though it made sense to you as to how he felt so familiar.

“no! it wasn’t anything like that.” he reassured you, unexpectedly flustered at the implication. “anyway, i have to get going. feel better soon.” 

finding his way out of your chat, he awkwardly stalked out of the infirmary, hoping you’d somehow forget this ever happened. again.

“bye riki!’

yeah, he was screwed.

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@getoxo @meowmeowjang @dksfml @feet4enha @17ericas

[harmonicakai]

Look After You

Part 2 of the "Anyone Else But You" series

Pairing: Huening Kai x Reader

Summary: You tag along to the club in the hopes of finally confronting Kai for his weird behavior, but things don't go as planned.

Tropes: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, angst

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, drinking, sexual tension/references to sex (mdni), reader is insecure

“I'm nervous, couldn't tell you why Touching me, hands warm on my thighs And I know I could turn a blind eye Afraid of what I'm gonna find” —North, Clairo

Somehow, someway, you were standing outside of Yeonjun and Kai’s apartment complex in the tiny dress he had picked out yesterday. 

Earlier, Yeonjun had texted to check in and assure you that he wouldn’t make fun of you if you decided not to come. Still, yesterday with Kai was just so unbelievably strange and now you’re hellbent on getting to the bottom of things.

Getting into this dress was way more complicated than you were willing to admit. Before you left, you had stared at yourself for almost ten minutes, your reflection unrecognizable. Usually, you’d cover up as much as possible, but tonight, everything is so… bare.

As you wait, you worry that it doesn’t fit you right, or that your makeup looks ridiculous. You don’t like when others look at your face, nor your body. That’s why you use your clothes to distract people. If they can’t see, they can’t notice everything that’s wrong with you.

When the guys finally come down to meet you, Soobin’s there too. He greets you with his dimpled smile, picking you up and twirling you around like you weigh nothing. It almost makes you forget about Kai, had he not been sulking in the background. 

It’s like every time you’re around, you somehow manage to suck all of his energy away. Clearly, last night was a fluke and he’s back to normal now.

“Hi, Y/N, it’s been a while,” Soobin says, running a hand through his short hair.

It’s true. You haven’t been assigned to styling the boys in almost three months, and only ever see Yeonjun outside of work or when he manages to track you down and bother you during a shift.

“It’s really nice to see you,” you reply, your hands running up and down your bare arms.

“Are you cold? Here, take my jacket,” Soobin says, stripping it off and handing it to you before you can politely decline. The material hangs off you like a tent, covering the dress completely.

“The car should be here any second now,” Yeonjun says, his shirt barely buttoned, exposing his smooth chest. 

You glance from him to Kai and note the stark difference in their outfits. Whereas Yeonjun is dressed to kill, Kai doesn’t even look like he knows where you guys are going.

He’s wearing an oversized black hoodie, baggy jeans, and skating shoes. It was something you would’ve seen him come to a photoshoot in before stepping into the clothes you meticulously laid out.

When the cab arrives, it becomes obvious that your driver is the grumpiest man in all of Seoul. You open up the front door on the passenger’s side.

“No room up here,” the driver huffs. You glance to see the seat full of ramyeon packages.

“There’s not enough seats,” you say, backing away from the taxi door. “Maybe I should just go home.”

“No, Y/N, you should come,” Soobin says, “I can go home if it’s an issue, or just meet up with you guys there.”

“Guys, there’s plenty of room for all of us,” Yeonjun diffuses, “Y/N can sit on Huening’s lap.”

“What!?” you squeak at the same time as Kai. The two of you lock eyes for a brief second before looking away again. His face is beet red.

“From what I’ve heard, the two of you just need to kiss and make up already. Plus, Hyuka’s so big and strong. It’ll feel like nothing to him.”

“Hey, I don’t have all day,” the driver reminds your group. You sigh and gesture for the boys to get in, Kai going last.

He gives you a look that reads “Are you sure?” before you climb onto his lap, doing your best to sit closer to his knees than his crotch.

Unfortunately, the ride to the club is a bumpy one. With each sharp turn, you jostle around the backseat. Your hands are pressed against the roof, searching for some stability.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Soobin asks. You’ve almost tumbled into his lap after the driver ran a red light.

Kai reluctantly wraps one of his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You nod to Soobin.

You’ve never been this close to a guy before, let alone one who's made it very clear he doesn't like you. Not as a friend, and certainly not as anything more than that. Still, the way his head nests itself over your shoulder feels… nice.

You shift in his lap before a pothole sends you flying. His grip tightens to keep you from bumping your head.

“Y/N,” Kai whispers through gritted teeth. His breath is hot against your ear. “Please. Try to stop moving.”

“Just a second.” You keep squirming as his arm wraps tighter around your waist, trying to adjust so his bunched up clothes don’t feel so lumpy underneath you. Why is he wearing so much damn fabric to the club?

Suddenly, your eyes widen as you realize the real source of the problem. Kai is hard.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice tinged with embarrassment and regret. 

“No, I should’ve been more careful,” you reply, staying as still as possible. You have to remind yourself that it's a purely physical reaction. Heat radiates off of his chest, growing warmer by the second.

Right, Yeonjun, it sure feels like nothing to Kai.

“What are you guys whispering about?” Yeonjun asks, leaning over Soobin. This was probably his master plan all along.

“Nothing,” the two of you say in unison. The rest of the ride is silent, but you catch the other two grinning out of the corner of your eye.

As soon as the cab comes to a stop, you practically leap out of Kai’s lap and into the parking lot. He follows shortly, pulling the hem of his hoodie down to hide any evidence of what just happened. 

Based on Yeonjun’s snicker, it doesn’t work.

The boys don’t even have to wait in line or show their IDs at the door. They introduce you to the bouncer, although he’d hardly recognize you again without the makeup or outfit.

The club is humid and packed, music blasting much louder than you’d ever willingly subject yourself to. You do your best to trail the boys, but get lost in the crowd.

A large hand reaches out and wraps itself around your wrist, guiding you forward across the sticky floor. It’s Soobin. You have never been more thankful for his constant devotion to being a gentleman towards you.

The group settles into a booth in the back corner, Yeonjun throwing his jacket down in preparation for finding his target for the night.

He locks his eyes on a girl with red hair. “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” he yells over the music, stalking back into the crowd of bodies.

“Do you guys want to start off with a round of drinks?” Soobin asks. 

“Nah, I’m good for now,” Kai says, sinking into the cushions of the booth. Did he actually bring his Nintendo Switch to the club?

“What about you, Y/N? Care to join me?” Soobin continues, extending his hand.

You’re not much of a drinker, but maybe with a little liquid courage, you’ll finally be able to confront Kai for being weird all this time. You nod and follow Soobin to the bar.

That was eight shots ago. 

A squeal from behind you catches your attention, and you watch as Arin leaps into Soobin’s arms, their reunion straight out of a K-drama.

Before he can introduce you, she drags him by the hand to the center of the dance floor, pressing her body against his. Soobin doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe the rumors were true.

Without anybody to distract you, the music grows louder and your head starts spinning. You stumble out into the hallway, desperate to get home and change out of the tight dress before you throw up all over it. 

“Do you like him?” a familiar voice says from behind, startling you. You turn to see Kai standing next to you with a glass of dark liquid in his hand.

“What? Like who?”

“Soobin. I… I see the way you look at him.”

“No, I don’t like him. I’d probably look at you the same way, too, if we were friends.”

“We are friends,” he says softly, although you can tell even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Don’t make fun of me. Everybody knows that you hate me,” you whine, your words slurring together.

“I don’t hate you, Y/N. I promise.” He’s staring at you so intensely that you can’t help but notice how warm his brown eyes are. The blue contacts he’s constantly being forced to wear don’t do his features any justice.

“Do you remember the first time we ever met?” you start again, snapping out of your trance. “You were in your dressing room fumbling with a harness, and it was only my second week. I came over to help you and you flinched away from me. Told me you didn’t need my help and walked away.”

Kai stares at the floor, no longer interested in his drink.

“And you always go straight into your room whenever I’m over. Or make up an excuse to go home early if you find out I was also invited somewhere. We’ve never even had a real conversation until now!” Your voice breaks, and it takes all of your strength not to let any tears fall.

“Okay, I get it,” he concedes, throwing his hands up. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. But I promise that I don’t hate you.”

“Then what’s your problem? Why do you act the way you do?” You were getting more and more frustrated. Apparently, this whole time, you and Huening Kai were just the best of friends. “How can you actually look me in the eyes and tell me that I’ve gotten everything wrong?!”

“God, Y/N, you just—you make me so nervous!” His breath hitches, as if he wants to say more. Your face shifts from anger to confusion.

“What? What do you mean?” you ask, your knees buckling. Now really isn’t the time to be having a heart to heart.

“Y/N, I’m going to take you home,” Kai says, steadying you. The back of his hand presses itself to your forehead, recoiling at the burning temperature. You slump further into his chest. “Where the hell are Yeonjun and Soobin? Fuck!”

Kai lifts you up, his long arms wrapping around your body as you nuzzle your head into his neck and groan. The last things that cross your mind are raindrops soaking your skin and the faint smell of peaches.

—————-

It had been a couple of days since the club incident and all you got out of it was a really bad cold and some paid time off. 

Your head still aches, further exacerbated by the incessant ringing of your doorbell. 

“Y/N, it’s Yeonjun. Let me in,” your best friend’s voice calls from the speaker. You buzz him in, hoping he’ll be able to tell you what happened the other night. All you remember is waking up in his bed to him sleeping on the couch.

Less than a minute later was his signature rhythmic knock at your door. You open it, greeted by not one, but five smiling faces with their hands full of gifts.

“You didn’t tell me all of you were here,” you groan, slumping back onto your bed.

“We thought you might not want to see all of us right now. But we heard what happened and we wanted to check up on you. And bring you some fun snackies,” Taehyun grins.

“And also, to apologize for making you come in the first place,” Soobin adds.

“We’re sorry,” they say in unison, even though Beomgyu and Taehyun weren’t even involved.

Kai avoids your gaze, coughing into his elbow.

“Are you sick too?” you ask, handing him a tissue to deal with his sniffles.

“Of course he is, Y/N. He carried you home in the pouring rain! Our Hueningie is a total hero,” Soobin says.

“He even cleaned your throw up off the bathroom floor,” Yeonjun adds, his voice tinged with both disgust and respect. “And got that dress dry cleaned and returned to the building before anybody noticed it was gone.” 

You turn to Kai, unsure of whether or not they’re making this stuff up. “Did you actually do all of that?”

“Yes,” Kai answers, head down and twiddling his thumbs. You do your best to recollect the other night.

“I guess that does make sense. I remember your cologne smelling really good.”

“What? I don’t wear cologne.”

“Oh… then I guess you just smell good.”

“You know, Y/N,” Beomgyu starts, “When somebody likes somebody else’s natural scent, it usually means they’re attracted to them. Maybe you and Hyuka are soulmates and just never noticed.”

All of you stare in awe at Beomgyu’s lack of a filter. Taehyun elbows him in the side. 

Every time you and Kai have been brought up recently has been a joke, but he seems so genuine that you wonder if there’s something you don’t know. 

“Could you guys go pick up some breakfast from the café around the corner? I’m really hungry,” you say, doing your best to change the subject.

“But we brought all this food with us!” Taehyun complains, shaking the gift bag in the air.

“Just go. Kai can stay behind and fill me in.” The boys exchange knowing glances. 

“Fine, but give me your keys,” Yeonjun says, hiding a smirk. It takes all of his strength not to make a joke about how much Kai would love to fill you in.

“And 20,000 won,” Beomgyu adds.

“Here,” you say, handing over your Miffy keychain and a bill from your wallet. Beomgyu pockets the cash with a smile, clearly not intending to put it towards breakfast.

“We’ll be back before the two of you can make a baby,” Yeonjun winks.

“You’re such a pig,” you scoff, the boys filing out of the room one by one.

“A handsome pig! Bye!” he calls, shutting the door behind him.

It’s just you and Kai now. When his eyes finally look at you, you find yourself looking away.

“So, you really don’t remember anything else from the other night?” he asks.

“I mean, I think we talked, but I don’t know what about.”

“Oh.” He decides not to press any further on that part of the story. “Well, yeah, basically… you got sick and I brought you home. You threw up twice and then I helped you change and waited until you fell asleep in Yeonjun’s bed. I DID NOT look at you naked by the way. I slipped a t-shirt over you and you just went on autopilot and shimmied out of the dress on your own. Guess you wanted to get out of it pretty damn bad, huh?” 

This is by far the most you have ever heard him talk outside of interviews. The way he rambles is actually kind of cute.

“I also kind of had to watch and make sure you didn’t roll onto your back and choke on your own vomit, but other than that, I just sat on the floor next to you and played Pokémon. You snore in your sleep, by the way.”

He has a big smile on his face now, satisfied with his storytelling. You smile back. The moment is quickly interrupted by Kai having a sneezing fit.

“I’m sorry you’re sick because of me,” you apologize, handing him another tissue. When he reaches for it, he holds onto your hand for a split second longer than necessary.

“It’s okay. I’m just happy that I was there to help you,” he says, sitting at the edge of your bed. He’s much quieter without the other guys around to riff off of.

“Thank you for that, by the way. I really don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

“Let’s not think about that.”

“Agreed,” you say, searching for a cosmic sign of how to continue the conversation. “Yeonjun tells me you’re quite the ladies man.”

A blush spreads across Kai’s face. You’ve made him flustered. “Uh, I, uh… No! I don’t think so? Maybe. Did he really say that? Because if he did, he literally sleeps with a different girl every night. Sometimes more than one! And one time he even asked if I wanted to join—”

“Kai! He didn’t actually say that,” you interrupt, hoping to stop him from revealing anymore of Yeonjun’s life in the bedroom. “I was just messing with you.”

“Oh,” he chuckles sheepishly. “Right. But, uh, that girl from the other morning. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, although part of you wonders if it actually is. “So, is that the type of girl you usually go for?”

“No!” he replies. He mulls over his next words, “You’re going to laugh at this. Basically, the guys were making fun of me at the club because I always sit in the corner and play games, and Yeonjun tried to make a bet that I probably wasn’t even capable of bringing a girl home, let alone someone that looked like her.”

Someone that looked like her. Even if he says that she’s not his type, how are you supposed to feel when you look the complete opposite way? Did every guy have those kinds of standards?

Kai can tell by the look on your face that he’s said something wrong. He decides to change the subject. “I only ever see you when you’re all dressed up.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think anybody would be seeing me right now. Sorry if it’s not the best sight.”

“You look nice. I like your pajamas.” He gestures at the bespectacled teddy bear on the front of your shirt. “It’s Beomgyu.”

“Thanks,” you laugh awkwardly, looking down at it. “I guess it does kind of look like him.”

“Is he your bias?”

“Maybe. Don’t tell Yeonjun.”

“My lips are sealed.” He smiles and pretends to turn a lock and throw away the key. Your gaze lingers on his lips until you turn away, unsure of what to say next.

“I feel like we don’t know anything about each other,” he says, breaking the silence.

“We don’t.”

“Right. I guess that’s my fault.”

“It is.” You have no idea why you’re being so short with him. Weren’t the two of you just smiling at each other? It’s like you were used to playing defense and couldn’t figure out a way to switch it off.

“Y/N, can we start over? I’d really like to be friends.” He hesitates on the last word.

“I probably won’t be dressing you any time soon, so I don’t know when we’d get to know each other.”

“Let me take you out! We can do whatever you want.” 

“Whatever I want?” It’s a tempting offer.

“Yes.” There’s an earnestness to the way he’s speaking to you that you’re not quite used to.

Yeonjun usually decides your hangouts because he knows how stressed planning makes you, but it’s nice to pick every once in a while. You mull over your options.

“Do you want to go watch the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra perform this weekend?” you offer, a little apprehensive. You had only purchased one ticket, thinking you’d be going by yourself. Kai’s eyes light up.

“I’d love to! Hopefully we’ll both be feeling better by then. Though I do think the red nose works for you,” he says, brushing his hand across the blush spread across your face.

The other boys burst in with even more food than before, wearing grins that tells you they’ve been listening from the other side of the door. Kai quickly pulls his hand away.

“We’re back!” Taehyun sings, setting a large bag of pastries onto your lap. “We didn’t know what you wanted, so we got one of everything.”

“Are you guys official yet?” Soobin asks, mouth already full of a cream donut.

“Yes, Soobin, Y/N and I are getting married tomorrow. Will you officiate?”

Huening Kai is making jokes around you. He’s laughing and smiling and being the bubbly guy you’ve always seen from afar. The only difference now is that he’s finally within your reach.

—————-

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P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

[storiesaplenty]

Gym Teacher Riley (18+)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f/Reader

Call of Duty Masterlist

Back to School Masterlist

Part 1 (18+) Principal Price

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: swearing. Unprotected sex. P in v. Mention of crying and bj, but nothing descriptive.

WC: 1137

Gif does not belong to me: @ineylesian

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: Do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Gym Teacher Riley has heard all about you from Price & Soap before he even met you. Now he is on detention duty, & your classroom is right across from the detention room. You need help with something, & he shows you how to fix the problem. You end up thanking him in your own way.

Gym teacher Simon wasn't at all happy about having to cover detention after school, but it was his turn, and besides, your room was right across the hall, and he could see inside of as you have kept your door open.

When he got the text from Soap, saying that Price was right about the new teacher, he knew he had to have a taste for himself.

Even more so after Price told them all about you during their weekly poker games.

"Fucking tightest pussy I've ever been in. She was so responsive to my touch, and fuck me lads, the taste of her pussy." He licked his lips to let us know that he wanted another taste.

I was pulled out of my daydream of her looking up at me, with my cock shoved down her throat, and tears spilling down her cheeks by the sound of the bell ringing.

"You can all go, and I don't want to see any of you here for the rest of the month." The teenage shits were already out of the room before I could finish my sentence.

I stood up and grabbed my stuff, with my back turned to the door when I heard a light knock.

"I'm busy." I told them, without even turning around.

"I know you want to go home Mr. Riley." I turned around at the sound of my name, looking at her as she stood there, nervously.

"But I need help with one thing." I placed my bag back down on my desk, grumbling about how I would help her.

She sat at her desk, and opened up the program which for the week grades.

"I did what Principal Price said to do, but it keeps saying error, and I would like to get this done before I go home for the weekend."

"Show me." I placed my hand against the desk and leaned down to watch as she showed me what she is doing.

Everything seemed to be correct until almost the last step.

"Here, let me show you." I placed my hand over her hand, on the mouse and showed her which button to hit to make it be entered properly.

◆

"You are a lifesaver Mr Riley." My cock twitched in my pants at her calling me that.

"It was nothing. Now it is time to go home if you don't need anything else." I turned my head to look at her, our faces extremely close.

I just had to move just a tiny bit and I would be kissing her.

"No, thank you." She said politely, but her lips touched mine when she said that, and something seemed to snap in me.

I smashed my mouth against hers, waiting for her to slap me, but she just moaned into the kiss, her arms wrapping around my neck as I picked her up and placed her on the same desk which our boss, and my good friend fucked her on, less that two weeks ago.

Her hands went straight for my belt and started to undo it and pull it threw the loops.

Most gym teachers wear their gym clothes all day, I am not one of them.

My belt was tossed to the side, and I couldn't wait any longer, as my cock is aching so much being stuffed inside my jeans.

I pushed my jeans and boxers down just enough for my cock to be freed.

My ego swelled as she finally saw my cock for the first time.

"It isn't going to fit." Was all she said as I placed my cock at the entrance of her pussy, rubbing it up and down to collect her juices.

"I'll make it fit little dovie. Don't you worry about that."

I started to push in, watching her face for any pain, but fuck, Price was right.

Her pussy is so fucking tight that it felt like she was trying to strangle my cock.

She placed her face in my neck, and softly moaned my name as I sunk inch by agonising inch of my cock in her.

◆

It took a bit for her to take me all, but when she did, I kept muttering, "good girl. Good fucking girl." As I stayed still, my cock twitching in her pussy.

I pulled back slightly and then pushed back in, soft pants falling from her lips as I did this over and over again, until my pace sped up,

I am barely pulling out of her as I rutted against her.

The tip of my cock was nudging her cervix every single time I slid back in.

I pushed her so she laid across her desk, putting her legs over my shoulders, forcing myself to go even deeper if that was possible.

The noises that fell from her lips seemed to get louder as she called out my name. "Mr. Riley. Yes, right there. Gonna cum." The last part came out as a squeal as I started to jackhammer.

Wanting her to cum around my cock.

"Cum for me then. Don't hold back." I grunted and that was all she seemed to need as she cried out my name like a prayer, her pussy tightening around my cock, forcing me to follow right behind her as she milked every last drop out of me.

My cock was still twitching as I pulled out of her pussy, watching with some sick glee as our combined juices leaked out of her and onto a student's paper.

I took two fingers and swiped it along her pussy, cleaning up some of our spent.

'I wonder?' I thought to myself.

"Open your mouth." I asked her, wondering if she would.

To my suprise, she did, also sticking out her tongue.

I placed the two cum-covered fingers on her tongue, and I actually felt a shiver go up my spine when she closed her mouth and started to suck my fingers clean.

◆

I went back to the detention room to grab my stuff, her gone by this point, when I felt a presence behind me.

"What do you want Gaz?"

"I heard it all." I could tell by his tone, he was jealous.

"Jealous?" I finally turned around, my bag slung over my shoulder.

"Very much so you massive asshole." He said to me with a smirk.

"Maybe next time it will be you, Vice-Principle Garrick." He clapped his hand on my shoulder, as the two of us left the classroom, ready for the weekend, but more importantly, ready for our weekly poker game where it will be my turn to tell everyone how I fucked the new teacher.

Soap is going to be so jealous.

Vice-Principal Garrick (18+) - Part 3

[tea-stained-notes]

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader – One Last Summer

Y/N is many things: Daphne's best friend, gifted artist, new money, honorary Bridgerton – and hopelessly in love with Benedict. But when she finds herself suddenly engaged to a brutish army captain stationed in India, she is faced with the loss of everything she has grown to adore. With time running out, one last visit to Aubrey Hall will decide her fate.

Months ago I had a random phase of obsessing over Benedict Bridgerton (don't we all at some point) and dove head-first into this – then somehow took an eternity to finish it. It's angsty af, but don’t worry, there’s also plenty of Bridgerton shenanigans and tooth-rotting fluff because Benny is too adorable for this world

Warnings: angst and anxiety

Word Count: ~8400

A warm summer breeze caresses my heated skin as I finally emerge from the carriage and lay eyes on Aubrey Hall. Lush flowers and greenery adorn the inviting front and I am still taking in the sight when I notice Eloise and Penelope rounding the corner, the Bridgerton sister gesticulating in what must be one of her political rants. Behind them, Gregory and Hyacinth emerge, chasing each other and screaming in delight. My stomach swoops at the sight – how I have missed them all. “Good morning!” I call over to them, waving with an excitement I would scarcely allow myself to display anywhere else. But here, everything is different. Has always been different.

“Y/N!” They all rush over to me, enveloping me in hugs and chattering over each other. “Finally! It’s been ages!” “Daphne has been insufferable without you around!” “Come play with us!” I laugh, begging them for a moment to breathe after the journey. Daphne appears in the entryway, closely followed by Violet. I walk quickly towards my best friend, arms wide open. “Daph!” “Oh thank Goodness you have made it!” She hugs me tightly, her familiar perfume mingling with the smell of grass and sun-warmed skin. “Have you been playing croquet without me?” “Oh, has Anthony already come moaning to you about his well-deserved loss?” “I can smell it on you, along with your smugness” I say with a grin. “And your brother has grown quite even-tempered since the wedding.” “Well, unfortunately he is still the sorest loser I know.” “Which is a feat in itself amongst this competitive bunch,” Violet says with a twinkle in her eyes before taking my hands in hers and looking me up and down. “Welcome back, darling. You look thin, please do not tell me that you’re trying to fit into one of those outrageous wedding gowns that seem to be made for dolls.” I wince at the mention of my upcoming nuptials but hastily cover it up with a chuckle. “Quite the opposite, at the last fitting my seamstress was rather disgruntled that she would have to take in the waist even further. It is just a bit of a nervous stomach, with all the impending change.” “But as a young bride you should be more happy than nervous, no?” “Mama,” Daphne scolds softly, while Eloise openly rolls her eyes. “I suppose I should.” “Why not at least wait until dinner with such questions?” comes a voice from my right, “Your forwardness single-handedly erodes our renowned British reserve.” I grin at Colin before pulling him into a hug and ruffling his coiffed hair. Being a year older, I have always indulged in playing big sister with him. He sighs in feigned annoyance. “I was going to say that it’s good to see you but I am already regretting that sentiment.” “Liar,” I snicker. Violet’s glance dances between us. I believe she once suspected a blossoming romance between Colin and me, but while I love him dearly as a surrogate brother, he has never made my heart flutter. Not that I could have ever betrayed poor Penelope anyway, whose bright eyes are locked on him as always. And not that I would ever actually marry a Bridgerton. I may have dared to dream of it ten years ago, when I first met Daphne and immediately became fast friends with her despite our age difference. When her family welcomed me into their home with such fervour and warmth that I could hardly believe my luck. With my mother having died from influenza when I was little and no other siblings to grow up with, the Bridgertons became the family I could have never imagined for myself. And the idea of marrying into it one day, of making my bond with them all official, that was the greatest aspiration I could envisage. But the one brother who has always fascinated me is nowhere in sight and I try to be glad for it. “Come, let’s get you settled before the rest of the battalion descends upon you.” Daphne pulls me inside while I give a grateful smile to the servants hurrying after us with my luggage. “So where is your charming husband?” I ask as we ascend the staircase. “And little Amelia? I have been dying to see her again.” “Simon was held up by business, he will arrive in a few days. And the little one is in the gardens with her nanny. I will call for some lemonade and once you have freshened up, we shall go out to see her and catch up. You have so much to tell me.” “I last saw you two months ago and we write constantly,” I laugh. “But all the things that have happened in those two months! Your engagement first and foremost. I simply must know everything, I certainly require more detail than the few lines from your letters.” My insides squirm at her eagerness but I manage a somewhat enthusiastic nod. She comes to a stop in front of a door. “Your usual guest room is having some work done, so I had my old room prepared for you – I hope you don’t mind.” “Not at all, it will be nice, I haven’t been in there since your wedding.” “And Mama has kept it exactly the same, you know how sentimental she gets.” Daphne sounds teasing yet her smile is nothing but fond. She gives me another hug. “I am so glad you are here. I’ve missed you. We all have.” “And I have missed you.”

Once my bags and I are safely inside, I inhale deeply and take in the stillness for a moment. Arriving at any Bridgerton residence always feels like being caught in a whirlwind and as much as I love them all, it can be overwhelming at times, especially after the often stifling silence of my own home. I wander over to the window, letting my eyes trail over the gardens, alive with an abundance of colours that makes my heart sing. Until it stops abruptly. There he is. Deeply lost in his brush strokes as he recreates the wonders around him. His vest is unbuttoned, his shirt carelessly gaping open at the top, his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Even from afar, Benedict Bridgerton ignites a well-known fire inside of me. Whenever I am away from him, I can almost convince myself that this age-old infatuation is nothing but a figment, a silly flight of fancy. Sometimes I can almost forget about him entirely, distract myself with my artistic pursuits, with other friends or travel. But then I notice a piece of melody flowing from my fingers that somehow reminds me of him or look down at a drawing in surprise, having unconsciously once again traced his familiar features. Still I repress it, abandon the fantasy of someone so far above my station. Someone who sees me as a family friend and nothing more. And now that I am engaged to be married I should purge my mind of him entirely, yet especially in these last few weeks I have scarcely thought of anything else, convinced that my longing could not possibly grow stronger. But the mere tangibility of him unravels me completely. I long to rush downstairs to see him and at the same time it is the one thing I fear the most. After a long moment I tear my gaze away and turn to the washing bowl. To my dismay, the cool water does little to calm my racing pulse and thoughts. Clean and unpacked I head towards the door, but halt half-way. Because as always, when I am in Daphne's room, my eyes fall on the painting of us. It is wonderfully serene, the two of us sitting on a picnic blanket in the gardens. She is engrossed in a book, but I am looking over my shoulder, smiling softly at the artist. It was Benedict of course. I remember vividly how I turned around to find him crouching with a sketchbook in his hand, capturing the scene in quick strokes. His face lit up and he winked at me before deftly outlining my expression. Later he transferred the motif onto a proper canvas, so I never got to see the original sketch. I have always wondered whether I had really looked at him like that. So openly enamoured.

I wander down the halls towards the open French doors leading into the garden when a voice pulls me from my reverie so suddenly I almost trip over my feet. “There you are.” I look up only to be met with a dazzling smile, gleaming eyes and a hint of spicy aftershave in the air. My stomach drops. “Mr. Bridgerton.” His smile falters briefly. He always insists on me calling him by his first name, yet I have never been able to. When we met he was already eighteen, a grown man at first sight. It had felt only right to address him with the same courtesy as his older brother. And even as we grew closer, as I learned of his boyish temperament, often bordering on immaturity, I never found the courage to simply call him Benedict. If only to keep up the semblance of a wall between us, a desperate attempt at shielding my heart. Not that I have ever succeeded in that endeavour. “Everyone’s been speaking of your arrival. How wonderful you have found time to join us.” “The pleasure is all mine, as always,” I reply, ignoring the pull in my chest. “Have you finished your painting?” I gesture at the art supplies in his arms. “Not quite, but I’m afraid duty calls. Some business I need to talk over with Anthony.” “Ah, I too have an enormously urgent appointment with your sister.” We share a light chuckle. “I am sure she has scheduled three hours at the least to learn all about your… plans.” The word comes out strangely forced but he catches himself quickly. “Will I see you at dinner?” “How could I ever miss one of Mrs. Brodie’s delicacies? I have had actual dreams of her rosemary chicken.” “You are not a true Bridgerton until you’ve had one of those dreams,” he says with a grin but it wavers slightly as the words sink in. He knows as well as I do that no number of dreams will ever make me a true Bridgerton. I swallow thickly before putting on a smile. “If you will excuse me, I am quite parched after the journey and Daphne has promised lemonade.” “Oh, of course, yes. Don’t let me keep you.” “Goodbye, sir.” “Until tonight, Y/N.” Something in his tone, in the way his lips curve around my name, sends shivers down my spine. With a swift curtsey I turn and practically run out into the open air.

I manage to ward off Daphne’s inquisition well enough. Yes, Captain Parker will be able to provide for me. Yes, he is handsome. Yes, my father approves of him. Luckily, we are regularly interrupted by the various Bridgerton siblings and distracted by little Amelia who is perfectly content as the centre of attention. “I am quite certain one day she will be the diamond of the season,” I declare, ruffling her hair. “Do you really think so?” Daphne is all too happy to swoon about her firstborn and I gladly steer the conversation away from my upcoming wedding. Eventually, I propose another game of croquet, having missed the previous one, and before long the dinner bell is rung. Everyone settles into the dining room and I sink into a comfortable chair, Daphne and Eloise on either side, Benedict across from me. I only notice now that we have always been seated like this during my visits and wonder if it was I who once sought out this particular arrangement. He quickly engages me in a conversation about art and music, the topics that have always connected us, and minute by minute I grow more comfortable in his presence. We fall into passionate discussions and light-hearted banter, only occasionally intercepted by the others around us. And I cannot help pondering if he has ever felt it, too. The sparkling potential between us. The mere idea of what we could have been. No matter how unrealistic, as long we were both unwed, a tiny part of my heart remained reserved for that hope. And every time I arrived at the manor to find him seemingly carefree about the future and with no bride in sight, I was flooded with relief, simultaneously blessed and cursed to hope for a little longer. Until a few weeks ago when those dreams were finally shattered. “So, are you looking forward to India?” Colin suddenly asks. “I would love to visit you there sometime, it must be incredible.” “Surely it would not be proper to interrupt their honeymoon,” Benedict says, somewhat strained. “Oh, it’s not for our honeymoon,” I reply. “My… Captain Parker will be permanently stationed there.” Benedict’s fork clatters onto the plate and we all flinch, the chatter around the table coming to a halt. “You will move to India?” He has gone frighteningly pale. “Yes. Has Daphne not told you?” “I must have,” she sputters, “when I was last in Lon–“ “No, you haven’t.” His words come out unusually harsh and my stomach twists. Everyone is staring at either him or me and Daphne’s eyes flicker between us before she forces a casual smile. “Brother, don’t be silly, I am certain I have. And either way, I shall be the one to miss her the most, no?” She puts an arm around me while giving a pointed look at Kate who quickly collects herself and pulls Anthony and Violet into a chat about their plans for the nursery. Slowly, the usual bustle recommences and I turn back to Colin. “Once we are settled in, you are more than welcome to visit. You all are, of course.” Benedict’s lips are pressed tightly together, his food forgotten.

I find little sleep that night, the image of Benedict imprinted on my mind. He seemed so genuinely upset. I expected him to miss me, of course, but the hint of melancholy I had detected in his features even before the revelation of my upcoming departure to India now haunts me. Losing him was always going to be torture but realising how it might affect him as well has doubled the pain and I start to regret this indulgence of coming to Aubrey Hall for one last summer. When the first sun rays filter through the half-opened curtains I inhale deeply, trying to infuse a little hope and joy into the beginning of this new day. And when Daphne surprises me with the idea of a relaxed breakfast in bed I almost believe it has worked. A while later we find ourselves in the parlour, Eloise engrossed in a book after Penelope’s earlier departure, Daphne rocking a fussy Amelia to sleep in her arms, and I sketching absently. I startle when Benedict walks in, slightly more dishevelled than usual. “Daph, Y/N. Just the pair I’ve been looking for.” “Good morning to you as well, dear brother,” Eloise says with a smirk. He bows excessively in her direction and I cannot help but smile at their antics. “Good morning, my darling sister.” They share a grin before he turns back to us. “I wanted to apologise for my little outburst at dinner. I was tired and the news took me by surprise.” He clears his throat. “I do hope you forgive me.” “Of course, sir,” I hasten to reply. “One could have almost suspected you of being jealous of a certain Captain Parker.” “Eloise!” Daphne chides but she too eyes her brother and me curiously. Before I can try to decipher either my feelings or his expression, Violet walks in, rubbing her hands enthusiastically. “Good morning, children! Who of you will kindly join us for a walk?” Daphne rises as Amelia starts crying once more and Violet immediately offers to take her. While they deliberate on the benefits of a walk for the baby, Benedict settles beside me, merely a few feet between us. I try to ignore the goosebumps forming on my skin at his soft smile. “May I?” He points at my sketchbook. I press it shut with hurried force. “No.” “Oh.” His face falls a little. “Forgive me, I did not mean to pry.” There is dejection in his eyes, but also confusion. I have always shared my sketches with him, just as my compositions, needlework and poetry. We have always valued each other’s opinions and advice. So naturally he is taken aback by my sudden reservedness. But how can I explain the shift from peaceful, colourful motifs to the utter gloom that has been dominating my sketches lately? The impending thunderstorms, the dark forests. And possibly worse, the countless drawings of him. Sometimes just his fingers, delicately holding a paintbrush, sometimes his entire silhouette, but mostly his boyishly handsome face that my eyes unerringly find the second I enter a room. If it scares me how much of my waking thought he is taking up – how much would it scare him? “I– I’m sorry, sir. I have not been feeling very… confident about my work lately.” “I can hardly believe that to be justified in any way. You have always possessed a raw talent I can scarcely dream of.” “That is not true.” “Well then, I challenge you.” Mischief sparkles in his eyes and an inadvertent giggle escapes me. “You mean it? We have not done that in ages.” “All the more reason to do it now.” “Y/N, are you coming?” Daphne calls across the room. “She is otherwise engaged,” Benedict grins before I can reply. “Is that so?” “Your brother has thrown down the gauntlet and I’m afraid I shall have to pick it up.” Daphne rolls her eyes, amusement playing on her lips. “Are you having one of your silly art competitions again? What is it this time?” “Portraits,” I say hastily. “We will paint each other. Fifteen minutes, as usual.” I wonder what possessed me to choose Benedict’s face as the subject, of all things. Most likely pure masochism. I do not dare gauge his reaction although I can feel his eyes on me. “Well, Amelia needs her walk now.” Daphne glances at the crying baby in Violet’s arms. “I suppose we shall see you both later. I’ll be happy to choose a winner then.” “You’re hardly impartial,” Benedict grumbles. “Neither are you when it comes to Y/N,” she retorts. Before I can begin to untangle her accusation she has breezed out the door.

Eloise is as bad a chaperone as ever, engrossed in her book a few yards away in the shade, while Benedict sets up his canvas beside me. Mine is leaning up against my chair. Despite my excessive practice I was not quite able to capture his essence. Perhaps because it felt so strikingly different from the other times he sat for me. I had asked him not to speak, as to not strain my jittery nerves even further, and he had obliged, albeit reluctantly. But with every passing second the silence between us grew heavier, along with his expression. It weighed down my piece of charcoal, making it impossible to find my usual ease in sketching. Just when I feared it might crumble between my tense fingers, Benedict murmured, “Time’s up” with a glance at his pocket watch. Before he could peek at the result I hurriedly asked for a lunch break which we spent with an unusually talkative Anthony. Now we have returned to our previous spot and he sets up his own work. “May I ask,” he says after the first few strokes, “why the quick engagement? Did you know immediately that he was the right man for you?” His jaw clenches while he firmly stares at the canvas. My hands grow clammy, clutching his watch tightly. “I could hardly afford such luxuries anymore. At four-and-twenty my chances of finding the ‘right’ man have been dwindling about as fast as my father’s faith in me receiving a proposal at all.” “You make yourself sound like an old spinster.” “Well, in the eyes of the ton I am. I should consider myself lucky to be engaged at last.” “But you don’t?” His eyes search mine intently until I drop my gaze, scared of what he might find in it. “Of course. Very lucky indeed.” Once more a long silence hangs between us. I suddenly feel impossibly tired. And as much as I want to blame the summer heat and sleepless nights, I know this weariness runs much deeper. The exhaustion of holding up the pretence that I am even remotely content with my lot. “Look at me, please,” Benedict murmurs and I follow his request without hesitation, taken aback by the deep concern in his features. He thanks me softly before resuming his quiet work. “Will you not be terribly lonely in India?” he finally asks. I bite my lip. “Not for long, I hope.” What I cannot say is that I am almost glad to go. To miss them all from so far away they will hardly feel real. To not see them fall in love and lead lives I will barely be a part of. To not sit and watch Benedict await his bride at the altar, breaking inside because it should be me walking down that aisle towards him. To not look at the children who have his wild hair and lopsided grin and not find a single trace of me in their faces. I blink away tears, desperate to change the subject before he manages to poke even more holes into my façade. “And what of your plans for the future, sir? Anything exciting on the horizon?” He pauses for a moment, seemingly debating whether to indulge me. “You will think me foolish, but lately I've been thinking about opening my own academy one day. One where your wealth and sex do not matter, where you are accepted on merit and passion alone. And perhaps when you are a personal friend of the owner.” He winks at me and I stare at him in feigned indignation. “Are you saying my merit and passion would not suffice?” “Not at all. If anything, you possess too much of both, so I would have to keep you in a private class as to not discourage the other students.” I glance down at my lap, hiding both my smile and the blush forming on my cheeks. “Well, I think, it sounds anything but foolish. You could grant opportunities to so many people who will never find them anywhere else. Promise you will write to me when that dream becomes a reality.” I look back up at him, surprised at the soft wonder in his eyes, then let mine travel down to his lips as they curve into a half-smirk. “When, not if? You flatter me.” “I believe in you. I always have. And I dearly hope that one of us will be allowed to live his dream.” Benedict swallows, all traces of mirth erased from his features. “Y/N, you–” “Time’s up,” I say, without a single glance at the watch. He bites his tongue while an entire palette of emotions flits across his face. “Here you are!” We both startle when Daphne appears beside me, placing her hands on my shoulders with a wide grin. “Brother, stop capitalising on my dear friend's time. She is my guest after all.” “And here I thought she liked to spend time with all of us,” Eloise comments and I suddenly wonder how much of our previous conversation she has eavesdropped on while appearing lost in her reading. The other Bridgertons trail behind Daphne, evidently tired from their stroll in the sun. Colin immediately snorts as he peeks at the canvas. “You cannot be painting Y/N again. Do you not have an entire portrait gallery of her already?” “Well, none of you little gremlins ever hold still for even a minute.” “I've sat for you plenty of times,” Daphne protests. “Yes, and you look like you'd rather hang every single time.” “Benedict!” Violet scolds gently. “Well, let’s see them then. You do need a few judges after all.” Despite my weak protests, both sketches are propped up beside each other a few moments later. The Bridgertons remain unusually quiet. “They are both fine works,” Violet says eventually. “But you two seem so…” “Gloomy,” Kate finishes. Everyone nods. “Did Eloise bore you with an excerpt from her book while you were drawing?” Colin quips and ducks as said book comes flying at his head. Within seconds the family is caught in familiar chaos and I let myself be dragged off to another lunch despite feeling so queasy I might never eat again. When I glance back at Benedict he only manages the barest of smiles.

The week and a half of my stay at Aubrey Hall passes in a turmoil of emotions. As much as I love spending time with the Bridgertons and try to fully revel in their company, it unnerves me. Feeling their observant eyes on me, the underlying tension in the air, I have been growing more short-tempered and nervous, increasingly avoiding the presence of the people I love the most to escape their questions, both voiced and unspoken. The portrait of Benedict lies buried in his studio. I could not bear having his charcoal eyes stare at me with the same apprehension as his soft green ones. Being around him has lost all the ease we used to share despite my infatuation. I am glad when Simon joins us, creating a distraction for Daphne and thus some room for myself. But no amount of wandering the familiar halls and gardens, hiding away in the library or furiously filling page after page of my sketchbook can calm my racing mind. Anxiety has nestled deep inside my chest, constricting my lungs and churning in my stomach. And then it arrives: My last day at the manor. They surprise me with a picnic under clear blue skies and despite my incessant sorrow it turns out rather lovely. Before long, the little ones are running around and I find myself pulled in all directions, playing and frolicking in the sun. The adults disperse as well, picking up games or strolling through the gardens in deep conversation. Eventually, I sink down onto a blanket next to Daphne and Amelia, out of breath and surprisingly cheerful. My friend looks over at me, a wistful expression on her face. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your time with us,” she says softly. “Of course,” I reply automatically. “I always do.” I let my eyes wander over the scenes around us and the despite the joy in the air, panic and despair once more rise in my throat. Cotton fills my ears, then my entire skin starts to tingle. And suddenly it comes crashing down on me. The intense finality of these last few days with the Bridgertons. The very real possibility that I might never return to Aubrey Hall, never again chatter with Daphne, joke with Colin, debate with Eloise. Never chase the younger siblings across the rolling greens or laugh at a seething Anthony after an eventful croquet match. Never have a single moment alone with Benedict. I have been a fool for believing that distance would make me miss them all any less. Because at this moment I am certain that I will be longing for these days for the rest of my life. Still, the sob that rips from my mouth takes me by surprise. “Y/N?” Daphne turns to me, little Amelia on her lap eyeing me warily. I want to reassure her but instead tears start flowing uncontrollably. “Oh my dear!” Daphne sets her daughter down on the blanket, then throws her arms around me. “Y/N, whatever is the matter?” I cannot find my voice for several minutes, overwhelmed by the most intense sorrow I have felt since my mother's passing. When I finally speak, the words come out raspy and broken. “I am going to miss you all so much.” “Well, how awful would it be if you didn't?” Daphne says, a half-smile on her lips but it fades as she inspects my face. “Is it more than that? Are you truly not looking forward to marriage at all? I know it can be daunting, Simon and I have had a rocky path as well, but now I cannot imagine a life without him.” “Because you love him!” The words come out rougher than intended and Amelia winces, her mouth curling into a frown. I quickly cradle her in my arms before she can start crying as well. Nuzzling her soft hair I avoid Daphne’s eyes. “You've always loved him, Daph. Even when you could not yet admit it to yourself, even when you did not know that he returned your feelings.” A tense pause stretches between us. “Do you truly believe you will never love Captain Parker?” she finally whispers. I bite my lip, unable to answer. “Y/N, why on earth did you accept his proposal if you cannot see a happy life with him?” I want to scream at her, want to rage at her naiveté, her inability to grasp the gravity of my situation. But I cannot. Not at my best friend who does not know and can never know how this engagement came about. “If you do not want this, I can help you,” she says softly now. “We will find a perfect match for you next season. Who knows, maybe even somewhere along the way until then?” Daphne attempts another soft smile and my tears start flowing again. If only it were this simple. She reaches for my hand while I am pressing Amelia closer with the other, relishing in her warmth and quiet babbling. “It pains me to see you like this. There must be something I can do. I realise that Anthony and I have been very lucky to have found our partners, but if it is not love that persuades you to marry, it should at least be mutual respect and fondness. I am certain we can find such a man for you, if only–” “No,” I say determinedly. “I am grateful to you, Daph, but it is too late.” “Too late because you're afraid to break off the engagement or because your heart is already taken?” I gasp. “Daphne–” “Is it someone I know?” “No, it's no one. There is no one.” I press a kiss to Amelia's head, then place her in her mother's arms. Wiping my face, I rise to my feet. “I am sorry for my outburst. Do forgive me. I just need a moment to myself.” “Y/N–” “Thank you for the picnic.” Brushing away fresh tears I flee the picture-perfect scene that now only breaks my heart.

Hours later everyone is bustling about in the parlour, impatiently awaiting dinner. I have claimed the piano in the corner and let my fingers wander over the keys, following a soft, melancholy tune. My gaze loses focus in the middle distance as I calculate the number of hours I have left here. There is no clock in the room and yet I can hear an unrelenting ticking. “Is that your latest composition?” I flinch before my eyes find Benedict's, his lacking their usual sparkle. “I– I am not certain...” I clear my throat and Daphne briefly glances over at me, worry in her features. “I'm still working on it.” “It's beautiful.” “You do not sound quite convinced,” I say with a weak attempt at a smile. “No, I mean it. Every piece you compose is beautiful. It's just... It sounds so deeply sad.” I suddenly sense how the atmosphere in the room has changed. Even the little ones have gone quiet, with everyone stealing looks of concern at me. “I am so sorry, I did not mean to ruin the mood. Please carry on.” I chuckle nervously and the Bridgertons are kind enough to return to their antics, albeit slightly forced. “Y/N, are you alright?” Benedict's voice is low but strained. I turn back to the keys, once more biting back tears. “Of course, sir. I am perfectly fine.” “You do not seem like yourself,” he murmurs. “You are usually.... softer. But also stronger. With such a zest for life. I've never seen you like this, so burdened, so sombre.” I raise my chin, attempting to look challenging rather than heartbroken at his astute observation. “And what about you, Mr. Bridgerton? These past few days you have hardly been the carefree man I've come to know.“ “Then you must know that you are the cause.” We both still. Blood is rushing in my ears as I try to steel myself for something I fear and crave in equal measure. But after a long moment he shakes his head, swallowing heavily. “I worry about you, Y/N. We all do. I know things have not always been easy for you but until now I believed our family could provide you with comfort. And if that is somehow no longer the case, surely the prospect of starting your own family should excite you.” I hopelessly rifle through my mind for an answer that might assuage him once and for all. “Dinner is ready, my lady.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Wonderful!” Violet smiles at the servant who has appeared in the doorway, then claps her hands. Her offspring rises from floor and sofas, muttering about being starved while jostling towards the dining room. I stand up so quickly the piano stool topples over and I reach for it at the same time as Benedict. Our hands briefly touch in mid-air, sending a spark through mine before I can pull away. He stares at me, the ticking even louder than before. “Y/N, you must know that you can confide in me.” “There is nothing to confide, sir.” “Benedict.” My face runs hot at both the insistence on his first name and the multitude of my confessions boiling so close to the surface. His features soften as he subconsciously draws closer and I scramble to my feet, heart pounding wildly. “We should go, everyone is waiting.” Before he can reply I rush out of the parlour, pressing clammy hands to my cheeks to soothe the fire in them.

Dinner is strangely quiet and whenever I glance over at Benedict I find him already looking at me. For the millionth time this week I wonder if I should not have discredited his motives so quickly, should not have dismissed his attempts at forming a tighter bond between us for the fear of falling too far. Is it possible I might have misread him all these years? Too blind in my self-deprecation, too caught up in worries about money and class when he never seemed to care much for these things, when perhaps he could have easily seen beyond them? Should I have rather flown too close to the sun than never have flown at all? When the children have gone to bed I linger with the others, barely engaging in the conversation over drinks but unwilling to embark on the hours of anxious brooding in the dark ahead of me. Eventually, the yawns become more frequent and one by one the Bridgertons retire until at last Daphne and I make our way upstairs as well. I halt as we pass the library. “I’m not quite tired enough for bed. I am going to peruse the books for a while.” Daphne turns to me, deeply mournful. “Y/N, I so wish you would tell me what is going on.” I feel my bottom lip begin to quiver and shake my head vehemently. “I can’t.” “Why ever not? Are we not confidants? I have always told you everything.” “And I am so grateful for your trust and friendship.” I envelop her in a tight hug. “I will be alright. Do not worry about me.” “How can I not worry when my best friend is so clearly unhappy?” She draws back to examine me once more. “I have had my happiness. With you, with your family. That shall be enough. Not everyone finds a happy ending.” “But you so deserve it,” she says, grasping my hand. “Both you and–“ She stops herself abruptly. “Who?” “Never mind.” I want to ask again but nod instead. She seizes a candleholder from a side table and lights it with the flame of her own. “Take this. And don’t stay up too late. We will speak again in the morning.” “Goodnight, Daph.” I slip into the dark library and carefully close the door behind me. After a few deep breaths I walk around the room, lighting more candles, until I am startled by a soft knock. With a sigh I move to open the door. “Daphne, please, can we–“ The words die in my throat. Benedict stands before me, carrying a grave expression. “I need to speak with you.” “Sir, you have to leave,” I splutter. “What if someone sees us? Daphne might still be nearby.” “She was the one to tell me where to find you.” “What, why?” “Because she knows.” “Knows what?” A long pause. Then he carefully pushes past me and presses the door shut. I can do nothing but stare at him in disbelief. “Sir, you–“ “Are you fond of your...”, he clears his throat, “your fiancé?” “Excuse me?” “It's a simple question.” My chest tightens as panic once again seeps into my veins. “I am hoping I can learn to be.” His eyes burn into mine, brimming with concern. “Y/N, are you scared of him?” “Sir–“ “Benedict, please. Please.” “No. I– I'm sorry, I...” I am so tired of crying, so I bury my nails painfully into my palms to hold back the tears. Still, I am shaking before him. He slightly raises his arms, as if wanting to pull me into a hug, and I wish more than anything I could let him without risking to fall apart entirely. “You must break off the engagement.” “I can't.” “Y/N, you're terrified. That is not a life you're entering, it is torture. And it’s killing us to know that you are hurting, that you might not be safe – it’s killing me. Is he choleric? I swear, if he ever laid a hand on you, I–“ “He already has.” “What?” “At the midsummer ball. He seized me in the gardens and touched me... Kissed me. Lady Clementine saw us and reported to my father. Father claimed that we were engaged and thus we were.” Benedict has turned to the nearest bookshelf, lips in a tight line, knuckles white from grasping the wooden board like a vice. He is trembling and my stomach sinks even further. “Did you explain the situation to your father?” he presses through gritted teeth, eyes boring into the volumes before him. “Of course. But he is deathly afraid of scandal. Our standing in the ton is on such thin ice as is.” “That's not true.” “Yes, it is.” Frustration starts boiling within me, one that I have been harbouring since I first set foot into their manor on Grosvenor Square ten years ago. All this splendour, so nonchalantly taken for granted by the entire family. All those visitors so obviously enchanted by the grand Bridgertons, never questioning their rightful place in this world. “You have no idea what it's like. Your father wasn't just barely rich enough to gain some footing in the ton but not to provide you with an appealing dowry. You have never been an only child, never had to be scared that your family's legacy might crumble if you ever step out of line for even a second, even when it's not your fault!” I am vibrating with restrained anger but quickly run out of steam when his face falls along with his shoulders. “You're right,” he whispers. “Please forgive me.” “I have to apologise as well. You have been born with an array of privileges from your sex to your wealth but I know that you do not flaunt them. However, my options aren't as wonderfully unlimited.” I swallow thickly. “So you see, I cannot end this engagement. My already slim chances would be ruined, who else would make me an offer after this?” “I would.” His reply is immediate, certain, and it crashes into me without warning. My mouth is dry, every nerve in my body alight. “That is incredibly kind, but I could never accept.” My voice nearly fails me. “You deserve a grand life, Benedict.” His eyes widen at the name finally spilling from my lips where I have kept it hidden for so long. “You will be a renowned artist, a gift for society in so many ways. And you deserve a woman you adore by your side, one who will never leave a stain on your good name.” “I have already found her.” His words hit me unexpectedly at first, an instant stab of jealousy in my chest. Then a lump forms in my throat as realisation sets in. A realisation I have never allowed and am not ready for still. “But I cannot seem to make her see that she has held my heart for an entire decade. That her smile and wit and artistic endeavours captivate me more and more with every passing year. That I could have lived with her romantic disinterest in me, had she found someone whose soul matches the beauty of hers.” “Benedict...” “That my name from her lips is the sweetest sound in the world.” “Please stop.” He pauses briefly. “Are you scared of me as well?” “Yes,” I blurt out, “I have been scared of you since the moment we met because you make me forget myself. You make me forget that you are entirely out of reach, that no matter how much I love you, I–“ My hand flies to my mouth, heart slamming into my ribcage. I stumble backwards while muttering senseless apologies. Benedict is stunned into silence. It feels like years pass between us. When he finally speaks, his words are hoarse and quavering. “You... You love me? All these years every advance of mine seemed futile because you thought–“ “Please forget everything I have said. Promise me you will.” “Forget? Forget the most wonderful words I have heard in my life?” “Benedict, I’m begging you…” I give into the tears at last. Whether they are born of desperation, frustration or simple pain, I can no longer tell. He walks towards me, a barely-contained storm on his face. “I refuse to live in a world where I do not hear you say my name every single day. Where I see you but once a year, your light slowly dimming in a loveless marriage. Carrying the children of that... bastard.” Now he is crying, too. “Please do not do that to yourself. Do not submit yourself to such misery. Whether you choose me or not, I will support you. I will do whatever I can to give you a good life. The life of an artist if you want it. That I can promise you. You will always have me.” He sinks down on both knees, his fingers carefully closing around mine. “And if you do choose me... I will do the same and more. I will give you everything I've held in for so long. My love for you will never falter.” I am frantically searching for reasons to deny him because none of this could ever be real, his skin on mine, his unbelievable offer in the air. My mind is reeling, trying and failing to catch up with everything that has transpired these past few moments. Years of dreams and longing, so briskly swept aside to reveal a glimpse at a reality that must be impossible because it always has been. “What would your family say?” I say shakily. “What would everyone say?” His hold on me tightens. “You know my family adores you and would accept you with open arms, no matter the circumstances. And I could not care less about anyone else. The gossip would die, it always does. Lady Whistledown would surely distract them with something else within a week.” A rivulet of hope trickles across my heart. “Could this... could this truly be?” “Tomorrow you will meet him in the city. All you have to do is talk to him one last time. I will be there if you want me to. Heavens, the entire Bridgerton clan will be there if you want us to.” We both chuckle through the tears. “You are not alone in this, Y/N.” I let his words sink in for a long moment. “And what if I choose you?” “Then we can go into town right after to pick out a ring and speak to the vicar.” His thumbs caress my knuckles reverently. “Will you? Will you do me the incredible honour of accepting my hand?” My knees buckle and I lower myself onto the floor before him. The blazing anxiety I have grown almost accustomed to has faded into glowing embers. After having wandered through hell for weeks, I find peace in his hopeful gaze, comfort in the soft contours I am so intimately acquainted with. A kaleidoscope of memories flashes before my eyes, all tinted in new colours. It has always been there, right in front of me: He loves me. And all I have ever had to do was say yes. “The honour would be all mine, Benedict Bridgerton.” A strangled noise escapes him before his eyes frantically scan my face as if they might find a single trace of doubt there. They could never. Not anymore. His hands come up, hovering beside my cheeks. “God, I really want to– Is it alright if I–“ “Yes!” He grins, breathless and blushing. “I haven't even–“ I lunge forward and press my lips to his. It is clumsy and overwhelming but also everything I have ever wanted. He almost tumbles over in surprise, but seconds later we are completely entangled, seeking each other's mouth over and over. Heart pounding, skin aflame, I am certain this is the happiest I have ever been. Because while my body nearly gives out with the strange exhilaration of it all, I also feel perfectly safe. As if this is exactly where I belong, where everything finally makes sense. In between kisses he whispers my name like a confession of love. It is from his lips. When we finally part for air we stare at each other with endless wonder, then start smiling deliriously. I reach out to cradle his face in my palm and he leans into it with a sigh. “Ben,” I murmur, the name unfamiliar but sweet in my mouth. He beams at me. “Come here, darling.” Without hesitation I let him pull me into his lap, just as desperate to be close. I no longer care if anyone finds us like this, am no longer terrified of scandal. Not when I know for certain that I will marry the love of my life, unfazed by gossip and propriety. I nestle into the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his scent, revelling in the warmth and solidness of his chest. His arms encircle me as I feel his heartbeat slow. Knowing it was I who made it race in the first place fills me with a fervent glow. “Do you have the slightest idea how incredible you are?” I say quietly as I lean back a little to look at him. “I cannot believe you would have provided for me if my father had turned me away.” “Without hesitation. You're everything to me, Y/N.” “What would your future wife have said?” “I cannot imagine there ever would have been a wife.” My eyes widen. “Oh Benedict…” “Never mind that.” He gives me a half-smile. “I would have had my family. And hopefully you in some way still.” My heart aches for the unhappy people we would have almost become and I pull him in for another kiss, assuring him and myself that will never be us. Then I am hit with one more realisation. “Wait, when you said that Daphne ‘knows’, did you mean...?“ “About my utter adoration for you? Sweetheart, they all know. Always have. You were the only one who never seemed to see.” “But no one ever–“ “I made sure they wouldn’t bring it up. Although you can imagine how excruciating it was for them.” “But why? Maybe one of them could have pulled me out of my head for once.” He gently caresses my face. “I wanted you to find your own way. Whether it would lead to me or not.” My heart swells with love as I lean my forehead against his. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For waiting. For saving me from myself. For everything.” “You have always been worth it.” We once again lose ourselves in a long kiss and I wonder how I would have made it through life without even a fraction of this bliss. Eventually, Benedict draws back, pure warmth in his eyes. “As much as I would like to stay here forever, I’m afraid we have to leave. Daphne may or may not still be standing guard outside.” I raise a hand to my mouth, trying in vain to suppress the giggle spilling out. He grins widely, then releases me and lets me pull him to his feet. “She is truly the best friend one could ask for.” “Oh, make no mistake, she will use this against us for the rest of our lives.” I smile up at him. “And I will cherish every second of it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

MASTERLIST

[flowerandblood]

Brother, Lover, Son Inside Alphabet

[ canon • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

Inside Alphabet for Aemond and Lady Baratheon from my mini series Brother, Lover, Son which belongs to The Impossible Choice Universe, made for my one year celebration.

A = Anger (do they get mad and how they react to it)

She sometimes gets annoyed, even more so when Aemond and Royce tease her, she then reacts by taking offence at them for a while. When someone raises their voice at her, she is quick to show them that no one will speak to her that way. She resents aggressive behaviour and tries not to show such herself.

He gets furious very easily, for various reasons. He then usually leaves and stays alone until he calms down. He doesn't like to discuss it and when he does come back he doesn't want to return to the subject that has aroused his frustration.

B = Behavior (tics, reflexes, things specific to them)

She involuntarily arches her eyebrows when she is worried about something and presses her lips together, gestures a lot with her hands and is energetic when speaking about something.

He hums or grunts under his breath and usually stands with his hands placed behind his back or in front of him. When he is frustrated he clamps his lips together and looks away.

C = Crying (whether they cry & do what when someone else cries)

She happens to cry out of sadness and joy, she is not ashamed of this and recognises that this is proof that she cares about someone or something. When someone else is crying she always tries to find a solution to their problem together with them and bring them something to eat that this person likes most.

He has cried maybe five times in his life and mostly when he was a small child. When someone else cries he is confused and embarrassed. When she cries, he doesn't know how to act and just looks at her, trying to comfort her with his very presence.

D = Despair (who they seek help from first)

She always runs with her sorrows to Royce because he is her best friend.

He tries to solve everything by himself and doesn't confide in anyone. He goes to Royce only when things are very, very bad.

E = Enemy (who they hate or argue with most often)

She tries to be polite and kind to everyone, so she is unlikely to have any enemies.

Floris. He flees to the other end of the stronghold when he sees her approaching on the horizon.

F = Friends (do they have and who they consider friends)

She is closest to Royce, but apart from that she likes several children of other lords with whom she has a friendly relationship. She considers Aemond to be her friend too, but he does not share this opinion.

For Aemond: Royce.

G = Gifts (whether they like gifts and give them themselves)

She loves receiving and making presents, but is always afraid they will be unsuitable. She enjoys making them herself and then cries when something doesn't turn out and she finds she has little time.

He likes getting presents, although he doesn't admit it. He hates giving gifts to others because he doesn't want to make the effort to think about what he could give them. He also rarely thinks that anyone deserves a gift from him at all.

H = Hobby (what they do for pleasure in their free time)

For her: archery, reading books, drawing and spending time with Royce and Aemond.

For him: practising sword fighting, reading, flying on Vhagar. Spending time with her and Royce, although he would never say it out loud, also relaxes him after a hard day.

I = Idol (their role model)

Borros.

J = Jokes (how they react to jokes and if they laugh)

She laughs so much that she sometimes has to restrain herself and cover her face. She happens to cry from laughter and kneel on the ground, unable to catch her breath, which makes Royce burst out laughing too, and Aemond can't look at them and tells them that he will come back to them when they calm down.

He does not laugh joyfully, at most mockingly and usually when he wants to annoy the other person.

K = Kids (do they want to have them)

They both want a broad, wealthy family with lots of children.

L = Love (anything to do with falling in love)

At first she thought she loved Aemond like a brother. When she realised that this was not entirely true, she was both terrified and excited. Every time she saw him in the courtyard in the morning she felt a pleasant tingling and warmth in her lower abdomen. She knew this was it.

He denied it for so long until he kissed her. Then he was just terrified that he couldn't control it. Then he gave in.

M = Manners (how they behave in formal situations)

She tries to behave as befits a young lady so as not to upset her sisters, but even so, she usually ends up having to press her lips together to keep herself and Royce from bursting out laughing. Her sisters think she speaks too much and asks too many questions, which Aemond confirms.

He is very collected and follows the rules of good behaviour strictly.

N = Nightmare (their worst nightmare)

She would die of despair if anything happened to anyone of her family, especially her father, Royce or Aemond.

For him: Losing Vhagar.

O = Origin (their childhood)

They both find their childhood spent together happy and peaceful.

P = Proximity (what they are like when they are intimate)

She is terrified of how little she knows about the subject, afraid that she will behave inappropriately and make Aemond frustrated and disappointed with her.

He is afraid that she will think of him as a mere deviant and that he only cares about her body. He tries at all costs to give her a sense of security and as much tenderness as he can.

Q = Quiz (whether they like to play and how)

She loves to play, especially card games.

He is usually forced to participate in it, even if only with his body.

R = Routine (do they have a daily routine and what is it)

They both have a similar routine. They rise early, have breakfast, train in the courtyard, attend their classes and chores, spend their free time with each other, sat down to supper together, took a bath, and go to bed.

S = Safety (whether and where they feel safe)

She feels safest in her bed.

He has no place where he feels completely safe. He likes to stay in his chamber or in the library the most.

T = Touch (who they allow to touch and how)

She will allow herself to be embraced, to have her hand or arm touched by almost anyone who is cultured and kind, if she sees that this person has no ambiguous intentions towards her.

He tolerates when Royce or Borros pats him on the back or on the shoulder. He gets annoyed when she jumps on his back suddenly, scaring him and putting him off balance. He tries to tell himself that he doesn't feel like touching her at all while watching Royce and her embracing each other.

U = Unforgivable (things they would not forgive)

Betrayal.

V = Vengeance (whether they are vengeful and how)

She is not good at taking revenge and her anger passes quickly.

He is very vindictive and when someone annoys him a lot, he will remind them of it for a very long time. It is difficult to regain his favour, often it is impossible.

W = Warderobe (what they wear, what style they have)

She wears a leather training attire every day, consisting of a white chemise, a black corset and black trousers, then puts on her gowns. She wears her gowns sewn as her mother wore them, with the waist under the breasts, draped only by a white shirt underneath, the material of which sticks out from under the slit sleeves of the top dress.

He usually wears a leather simple garment consisting of a tunic and breeches. For more lavish occasions, he wears his emerald robes with gold embroidery in the shape of dragon heads on the sleeves.

Y = Yearning (whether they yearn and how they express it)

She misses Aemond terribly when he flies off to King's Landing for long weeks and she looks out of the window every morning hoping to see him training in the courtyard.

When he is in Storm's End, he misses his family. When he is in King's Landing, though he tries not to think about it, he misses Borros, Royce and her.

Z = Zone (their comfort zone)

There are few things that can make her feel uncomfortable. She doesn't like it when someone forces her to do something, or mocks what she says considering the fact that she is a woman is reason enough.

Many things make him uncomfortable, especially when someone doesn't recognize that he wants to be left alone. Too much attention fixed on his person overwhelms him, even more so when someone pesters him with a conversation he doesn't feel like having.

[sweetbrier2908]

him

satan, the avatar of wrath, the cynical fourth-born, the secretary of rad's student council. the only "pure demon" from birth in the family.

satan, who always wears a smile on his face, charming and polite, normal and decent, stealing hearts left and right because who wouldn't fall for a gentleman in the world of demons?

satan, a loyal member of rad's rare book club, loves books and loves learning new things every day, he knows every single book in rad's library, you won't need to use the computer to search for the book you need as long as he's with you.

satan, a cat enthusiast, his laptop is covered in cat-stickers and he spends most of his time in the rad courtyard playing with cats, remembers all the stray cats wandering around that area and even names them. he has this close friend that he calls sir cat.

satan, who loves art and beautiful things, who is close to asmo - one of the most famous beauties in the whole three realms, who once was the celestial realm's jewel. you would be surprised when you found out that satan didn't care too much about his appearance.

satan, who is frightening, terrifying, super scary when is angry, who is capable of destroying the whole devildom if he gets out of control, is learning to control his anger.

satan, who hates himself and his identity so much that the only way he knows to deal with this self-loathing is by pretending that he hates the person who made him this way. satan, suffered from trying to identify himself until you came around.

satan, who always thinks of himself as some boring demon and never understands how special he is until you come around.

satan, who is so scared of hurting you the way he used to hurt people. satan who always worries about one day you're going to see him like the way he sees himself - a cruel demon. a true monster. but you shake your head every time he brings this up ("are you scared of me? i know that you shouldn't be with me. i can't even protect you like beel usually does, i can't even be there for you like mammon"), cup his face and tell him that you love him over and over again ("stop that, i won't kiss you if you keep talking about yourself like that") until he forget about all this self-loathing and remember that he deserves to be loved by you and everyone else ("hey satan, how many 'i love you' i need to say before you understand that i love you no matter what you are") and he's unique in his way and he doesn't have to prove that ("mc, are all humans stubborn like you?", you smile "maybe, i mean, human life is too short for not keep holding on what's dear to us").

satan, who says thank you to you as you hug him every night. he's so grateful for everything you did for him. thank you for giving me a family. thank you for helping me understand my own self. thank you for staying beside me despite knowing every side of me. thank you for loving me for who i am.

satan, who writes you love letters and reads you love stories.

satan, who is the most gentle demon you've ever met ,and maybe, the most gentle you've ever adored.

satan, the demon you love.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Omg hello again miss😍😍😍

Im here to annoy you with my req so...

I'll describe reader first, she's an obedient girl, like anyone who order her to do something- she'll do it, doesn't matter who they are,,, its either she's afraid to that person or she love that person so much or maybe she oblige them so that they won't look at her with dissapointed eyes(which she hate so much) Her personality is.. (can't describe it well) soft hearted, innocent being and is like "the sunshine" for everyone.

I want to see Hades, Poseidon, Thor, Beel, Loki, Apollo and Hermes reacting to her☹️

This sounds kind of like Baby-5, only with less murderous tendencies lol.

-Sunshine was the perfect way to describe you, warm, bright, and gentle. You were always gentle and polite, always willing to help others.

-But sometimes others, both friends and those who didn’t know you, worried about you, because you always seemed to go out of your way to help others, even if you didn’t want to do something.

-You were terrified of letting others down, something you grew up with, after your parents abandoned you for being ‘useless’, claiming you couldn’t do anything right, while in reality they abandoned you because they didn’t have enough food to go around, and you were the smallest.

-Ever since then, even after you passed and ascended to Valhalla, you always did your best to please others, doing whatever was asked of you.

-You hated being looked at with disappointed eyes, hated it more than anything in the world, just seeing someone looking at you like that is enough to send you into a panic attack.

-However, a god took a shine to you, seeing how hard you work, not realizing the severity of why you help others.

-He saw that you were so warm and bright, and so gentle, you were a perfect woman, a perfect marriage partner. You were adorably shy with some things, like when he would ask to hold hands, you would do so while looking away from him, your face blazing bright red. However, he would never force you to do something that you didn’t want to, but when he was testing a theory, after a report came in, he told you to do something you were against and you looked so terrified to disappoint him, not so much not wanting to do the task. He realized your fears early on, not wanting to disappoint others, and so to counteract this, so nobody would take advantage of you, he told you to only listen to him, and nobody else.

            -Hades, Thor, and Hermes

-You were obedient, following all of his instructions and doing everything you could to please him, beaming brightly up at him when you completed a task. He originally compared you to a dog, doing things in exchange for praise and head pats, but when you failed to do a task, not being strong enough to do so, you collapsed in a heap, covering your head, begging for forgiveness, refusing to look at him, refusing to look at the disappointment in his eyes. This surprised him, seeing your terror over disappointing him, and after looking into your past, finding out the reason you were like this and confirming it with a few more tests, he realized he could manipulate you. He gave the order for you to listen to only his orders and that you were to never take orders from anyone else. You followed his order, refusing everyone else, something he praised you for which made you beam and melt under his affections, and in turn, he would tell you to dote on him, showering him with your warm affections. He wasn’t going to share you with anyone else, and you were going to do what you were told, so you didn’t disappoint him again.

            -Poseidon, Beelzebub, Loki, and Apollo

[pppeachyyys]

OMGGG! I LOVE your crush and confession headcanons! They're ooo cute! Can I ask you for some more crush and confession headcanons for any BLLK characters you want? I'd love to read them!

✩ YAJSQJS tysm !! i wrote for isagi and bachira. i hope u enjoy <3

puppy love pt 2 | ft isagi and bachira

✩ what are the bllk boys like with their crush ?

isagi yoichi

✩ the sweetest :( he’s so nervous and fidgety every time he’s around you!!

✩ isagi is known to be very polite and generally respectful to everyone, so to his own crush, he’s just 10x kinder. 😞

✩ LOVES complimenting you about anything. if you praise him back, he’s quick to cover the blush on his face.

✩ literally kazehaya from kimi no todoke ???? HE’s LITERALLY HIM OH MY GOD

✩ he’s always looking at you even when you guys aren’t talking. you can notice him steal glances at you whenever the teacher is busy with his lecture or his friends are talking about soccer.

✩ mini staring contests with him that results in both of you having racing hearts and hot cheeks D: ugh yall are too cute

✩ never forgets stuff about you. the moment you say something, it’s permanently in his brain and he’ll make sure to apply it into his life.

✩ you mentioned a food you liked ? he has it for you the next day. you mumble that you aren’t feeling well ? don’t worry, isagi is at your door after school with medicine. 

✩ gets super embarrassed when someone mentions you. he instantly perks up and pays attention when somebody says your name.

✩ “hey, isagi- you listening ?”

✩ “huh ? oh yeah i am ! don’t worry.” 

✩ “okay… anyways guys did you see y/n-”

✩ “y/n ?! where ?”

✩ also tends to get jealous / possessive over you. even though you guys aren’t dating, he doesn’t want you to think about anyone else. :( he isn’t insecure, but rather he just wants to let everyone know that isagi likes you the most. (which in his mind means no one else can like you)

✩ this causes him to backfire his confession accidentally LMFAO

the striker watches you with narrowed blue eyes, his mind analyzing the current situation before him. a student was before you, face red and words fumbling, their fingers holding onto what looked like a love letter.

he scoffed to himself. what kind of person looks like that while confessing ? it makes them look cowardly. isagi was a firm believer that if you were to confess, it should be full of confidence, which was what he was practicing in front of the mirror everyday. 

before he knows it, you’re striding back over to him with the letter in your hands. “i turned them down.” you say. hearing your voice makes him instantly jolt. 

“huh ? why’d you do that ?” he asks nervously. he’s quick to notice the way your eyes dart around but chooses to not question it. you shrug. “i’m just not interested in them, that’s all.” 

the hallway is empty and all signs of the love struck student is gone. he musters up a nod, a smile growing on his face. “yeah. of course you wouldn’t be interested when you have me !”

the moment those words leave his mouth, he’s mentally slapping himself and feels heat rise from his neck up, shades of red blooming on his face.

“sorry ! i didn’t mean it like that- uh… you know i meant like uh… uhm….” 

you laugh, something isagi didn’t expect to happen. he looks at you and sees your cheeks just as hot as him, the joyous giggles filling his ears like a melody. 

“actually, it would be better if you meant it like that. but you’re right yoichi.” you look right back at him confidently. “i don’t look at anyone else since i have you.”

isagi curses to himself, realizing all that practicing in the mirror was worth nothing the moment he saw your face.

bachira meguru

✩ super friendly!!! he makes it known in the way that makes you feel comfortable about it.

✩ always includes you in anything and everything. he hates the feeling of being left out and he’s well familiar with the feeling of it. bachira never wants you to feel lonely :(

✩ like i mentioned before, he makes sure you know that he likes you. 

✩ would just come up to you and say you’re cute. then proceeds to befriend you quickly and before you know it, you guys are best friends. 

✩ “hey ! i saw you across the classroom and thought you were really cute. what clubs are you in ?”

✩ bachira is a touch kinda guy, he loves showing affection to his friends, which means you included. if you were to voice about it though, he would gladly respect your boundaries.

✩ if you are okay with it though, he’ll indulge in it to it’s most! always massaging your shoulders, pushing you around gently, and playing with your hair.

✩ he gets so lost in the feeling of liking you that he gets super attached. 

✩ overthinks a lot :(. his childhood still reflects onto himself and he gets insecure about himself and how he’s treating you. he’s scared to lose you but he doesn’t want you to leave.

bachira is scared. it’s another one of those nights that consist of sleeplessness, anxiety, and worst of all- you missing from his mind. he can’t stop thinking if there was something wrong with him. 

he felt like a creep. a monster. he felt like he was just keeping you to himself like a murderer keeping someone hostage, and he hated it. yet at the same time, he refused to let you go.

you were too good for him, he thought. you never expressed disgust towards him nor ever treated him horribly. you were an angel compared to him. 

the amber-eyed boy keenly stares at his phone, contemplating if he should give in to the temptation of texting you. it was just so alluring, the image of your presence being enough to comfort him.’

surprisingly, he isn’t the first to text. you are.

he stares at the message glowing on the screen, reading, ‘are you awake ? i can’t sleep and i lowk miss u :(‘.

the heart inside of him flutters for a moment. he picks up the device and gives it a few clicks. ‘yep yep ! i’m awake. what’s up ?’

‘not much. i just like talking to u’

you’re still typing. he’s anticipating the next message.

‘<3’

bachira smiles. maybe worrying about it truly shouldn’t be his first concern.

[jplupineislost]

This....sucks.

So I've briefly mentioned some of this stuff before but given my current circumstances, I think some transparency might be needed. I could potentially be homeless soon and I'm at the end of my rope.

Under the cut will be how I ended up in this position with some potentially triggering topics [harassment, assault, abuse] Links to help me keep my home are at the very end if you want to skip the triggering parts.

Around two years ago, I was living in an apartment with my mother through government assisted housing. Between the both of us, our combined incomes were far beneath the poverty line even for a one person household. We're both disabled, so our methods of getting income are limited. The apartment became a health hazard to my mother because of neighbors stealing packages that contained medical supplies and upstairs neighbors nearly constantly smoking cigarettes and weed with the smoke coming down to our apartment through the connected vents.

The smoke was so strong that it stuck to our clothes and doctors would run secret drug tests because they thought we were lying about not doing drugs. We both have asthma, but mine is not as severe whereas Ma also has COPD and was having to do daily breathing treatments due to the smoke. We did everything we could to get it to stop including contacting management to see if they could talk to the neighbors about smoking outside instead of inside; we were essentially told we either had to just deal with it or move. This is on top of the same neighbors causing several floods from their apartment into ours. Given our financial situation, there was nowhere we could go.

Ma's health started getting worse from the smoke to the point that her doctor's told us that we needed to move or she could be put in a home. So with no money to live anywhere else, it was looking as if Ma would be taken away and I would be left homeless.

Our situation was taken advantage of by someone Ma thought she could trust. An old friend she had known and lost contact with but found again years later had agreed to help us move by all three of us getting a house and splitting the bills based on income. It seemed like the perfect solution; space, no more smoke, and the ability to install disability aids- the apartments had not allowed us to make the apartment accessible, which led to several injuries over the time we lived there. I had managed to save income tax + stimulus money that was just enough for a home inspection and other necessary expenses, so I covered those with the agreement that Ma's friend would pay me back for his part. He never did.

We managed to get a house- one that turned out to not even be up to code but it was too late to back out now, which put me into dept with loans to fix. There are still many repairs needing to be done, but those have no choice but to wait.

Moving in, MF said the place he lived prior had bedbugs but he had treated his things already so not to worry about it. He lied. The back bedroom got an infestation we had no money to get rid of, leaving us to resort to cheap sprays that did very little. It also became quickly apparent that MF was incredibly irresponsible with money; he would spend hundreds of dollars on unnecessary expenses from video game loot to luxury items. He frequently was late on bills that usually fell to me to pay off with whatever savings I had, so anytime I had a savings, it would be gone shortly after so that things like utilities would not be cut off.

Conflict and arguments became common over various things. MF was barely less than a stranger to me, but I tried to be polite and get to know him. The more I talked to him, the more I became uncomfortable. He was a sexist pig who laughed about beating one of his exes.

And now we were stuck living with him. MF is also disabled and took advantage of that as well. He was manipulative and would put up the image of 'poor disabled white man' to get out of trouble who knows how many times at this point. Ma secretly got into contact with some of his past partners and people who lived with him, and they had pretty consistent stories; he made their lives Hell. He called them all crazy and jealous, but given the fact that he was also making our lives Hell, it was clear he was a liar. Every time he got caught lying and called out on it, he tried to gaslight us.

MF escalated his behavior knowing we had nowhere else to go and no money to do so. He tried pushing boundaries with me, getting too close when I was bent over and had my hands preoccupied or when I wore certain clothes. I would immediately tell him to not get that close to me and he would react negatively with anger and trying to make it out as if I was overreacting.

My mother is not as confident in enforcing boundaries as I am. She wanted to 'keep the peace' but was being abused when I wasn't in the room. I didn't find out until much later when she ended up physically injured with bruised ribs. This was also when her doctors found out how dangerous our living situation was.

Then Ma had major surgery for health related reasons. She was in and out of the ICU for over a week recovering, and the entire time, MF was going to the hospital and telling the doctors/nurses all sorts of lies from being Ma's boyfriend to husband, took me off her emergency contact, and refused to tell me what was happening to her. MF would up and leave without warning, and because of my work and other factors, I could not go see Ma while he was there. One day I told MF that we would go see Ma together so that I could actually get to see her in recovery.

The next morning when we were supposed to go, he left early by himself without saying a word. I had to take my little brother to work 'cause he didn't have a car and had to prioritize that so my brother wouldn't lose pay or his job. When I got to the hospital afterward, I had a suspicion and went to the front desk to ask where Ma was before I went anywhere. Found out then that MF had also lied about what room Ma was in. When I get there, a nurse was checking on Ma and asks who I am. I tell him, and he turns to MF and asks "Is this the one you said wasn't coming?" I was seething. Ended up having a breakdown shortly after because I finally learned what all was happening with Ma.

Ma's doctors and social workers, after several months, were able to find a way to get MF out of the house. He was given the options of leaving and owing only $500 a month in mortgage or being taken away by police. He didn't leave until the day before he would be forcibly removed. He stole several items of ours while leaving junk and spare furniture behind. Him leaving behind furniture was not out of kindness, but another way to lie and play the victim to people who didn't know what was happening. 'They kicked me out and stole my things' is the gist of what he told others so they would pity him and give him money/luxury items.

Since he was only obligated to pay $500 in mortgage, Ma and I had to figure out how to pay the bills he had been covering while living there. We managed it, but we could not cover that $500 with our incomes. MF did not pay that $500 and hasn't in over a year. We've been scrambling month after month to cover it. I got a better job and still can't cover it. We tried to seek legal action to hold MF to his contractual obligation of the $500....he put himself into a temporary hold at a mental clinic to be deemed 'incompetent' at the time. He's hopped around places to not be found, all the while threatening us and trying to sell the house while we're still living here.

He told us that he only has to wait it out until we have no choice left but to sell the house and he'll get his cut due to being a partial 'buyer'. Several times he even showed up without warning, coming into the fenced yard, digging through our trash, and getting into the shed. He only stopped as far as we know when threatened with the police.

For the past year, we've been struggling to cover his $500 and facing potential homelessness every month. We've been managing by the skin of our teeth, but it's looking as if our options are running out. Then with him trying to sell the house from under us, he may be able to succeed if we can't pay the mortgage, which will get him even more money than what he's already stolen from us. We're working on taking him off the mortgage, but that is taking time we may not have. We also can't legally get a roommate due to our state laws.

So I'm asking for help. If y'all could commission me, get stickers/magnets/etc. from my Redbubble shop, or donate through my Ko-fi, that would be greatly appreciated. Even just reblogging could help. I'm doing whatever I can to not lose my home.

Comm Info | Ko-fi | Shop | Adopts

[civilotterneer]

The Search for Civ

Lye's Personal Log: 10/29/2024

Things have been settling down again, thanks the gods.

With Civ returned to our world a few weeks ago, it took a while for him to re-acclimate to normality. The world he had been abducted too was strange and full of aliens of some wolven variety, and were particularly advanced. However, their use of terms in calling him a 'pet' was greatly disparaging and not good for his mental health. To add to that, the terrors of running for his life did not help.

However, he is doing better now. He is resilient and seemed to be greatly relieved to go back to work at the engineering office. If anything, his work was exactly what he needed to recover, to feel himself again. I still made sure he enrolled in counseling for a while, and the therapist seems to be happy with his progress.

Luckily, almost no one knows of our little escapade, and for all intents and purposes, I intend to keep it that way. I don't want Civ becoming the center of attention around alien life when it would only bring back bad memories. My cover story of a random stasis magic effect seems to be working well. I've informed a few colleagues at the college of a possible discovery with the Hells and transportation, but made sure they would leave us out for the time being.

Civ does fondly remark about a few things from his time there. He seemed very interested in some of the politics on Adastra, but it will be very difficult for us to find out what may have happened. Livic offered to get information from some hellish contacts, but they're likely going to take a while to return as they seemed unwilling. Regardless, while Civ seems mildly worried, Adastra is very far away, and unlikely to matter again in our lifetimes.

Civ has also noted that he wants to take a vacation to Rome, Italy sometime and swim in the seas there. Maybe it'll help him, maybe it won't. Regardless, it does sound like a nice vacation.

In regards to Livic, the devil is still around, and likely will be for the time being. According to him, his 'father' has decided he needs to learn about our society in order to be a better devil in the future, which means he's sticking around.

While Civ was apprehensive at first, he was also the first to offer Livic a place to stay. They seemed to be pretty at-odds at first, but after they got past a few issues of whose who, who does dishes, and Livic needing to get a job, they seemed to be more chill with each other's presence. If anything, now I have two chittering otters to listen to bad jokes from, except one can accidentally rant about water infrastructure for hours and the other seems to lack modesty when he walks around the house naked.

For now, Livic will be living with us, and I'm forcing him to find a job (after I asked Kelly to 'add' him to the citizenship records after explaining the new hellish friend). He's gotten more docile since I first met him, but now that everything's calmed down, he's returned to his snarky, pervy, fiery self. He's aiming to get a job in the local Hotshots, saying that "he has a knack for fire, which includes putting it out and controlling it". Anything to give that devil otter something else to do than annoy me.

For now, everything should be returning to normal, and luckily this time around, Civ is much less traumatized. I don't think I'll have to do another memory draw, but with the side effects being the creation of such a powerful magical item that can be used for things such as the creation of Livic, I'm hesitant to even do that when it may be necessary. I have plenty to write about for some possible research articles, however.

The only un-normal thing now is dealing with two otters in the house now. Our water bill is going to be so bad now.

<<Last Page - Page 25

[estinininininen]

FFIV: Arm in Arm, Hand in Hand, ao3 link, ~2400 words

Rydia has a simple request for Cecil.

He'd do anything for her. She doesn't want to make it weird.

(He makes it weird.)

warning: unbearable cuteness

Cecil and Rosa agreed at once when Rydia asked for a private moment.

"Thanks for seeing me," Rydia said. "I know you're busy all the time."

"It's no problem," Cecil said. "I'd make time for you. Are you hungry? Did you have a good trip?" Taciturn King Cecil only babbled around people he liked. "Surely you must know I'd make time. Surely you know that."

"I know. I believe you. And I'm fine," Rydia said, even as Rosa brought a tray of tea to their table and Cecil jumped up to help her. Rydia stood up on court etiquette but Rosa shooed her back into the chair. "Really, I won't need more than a moment with you, but I wanted to ask you something."

"To ask something in private," Cecil said. "Are you safe? Are you in danger? What do you need?"

"I'm sure she's fine," Rosa said. She had an idea what Rydia might say, but it was important and Rydia should be the one to ask.

"I'm fine," Rydia said. "I'm more than fine."

"Right, right," Cecil said. "You wouldn't let anyone get the drop on you."

Rydia wrinkled her nose like she always did when teasing. "You should know that by now. No one gets past me if I don't want them to."

"Dear, have a little faith in her otherwordly magical abilities," Rosa said.

Cecil held up his hands. "Don't need faith. Seen it myself." He laughed. The stress of being King melted from his face. "I just worry about you, when I'm not looking." His expression blanked, and history for a moment weighed over their little table. Rydia and Rosa understood this was a truth that popped out before Cecil meant it to.

"That's alright," Rydia said. "I worry about you two, too." Then she stopped. Whatever Rydia had to say, she might need a little prompting.

Rosa covered the pause in conversation with pouring the tea. "How is Edge?" she asked.

"Speaking of people I worry about," Cecil said.

Rydia smiled and tucked her head down a little, to hide her glee. It was such a typical movement for a young woman in love that Cecil had to hold his surprise.

"Well. Edge and I. Um. We just got back from visiting the Feymarch," she said.

The Feymarch was a home to Rydia, and to everyone else it was the long-forgotten alien world of sentient monsters of legend. Even though Cecil and Rosa had been, twice, they still felt a thrill of awe when it was mentioned.

"And?" Rosa said. "It . . . went well? Asura and Leviathan are well?" she asked, stumbling and falling back on neutral politeness.

"Oh yes. I wanted to introduce them to Edge again, and for him to spend enough time for them to get to know each other. He managed to spend two whole weeks out of Eblan, got everything prepared and signed off. He gets so much more done when he's motivated. It turned into six months in the Feymarch. I think he really appreciated a long time away from the throne."

"Between us? Can't say I blame him," Cecil said. "And this . . . went alright? Edge in the Feymarch?"

"For half a year?" Rosa said.

"Yeah," Rydia said. When Rydia had started looking dreamy-eyed when talking about Edge, Cecil couldn't say, but it made his heart clench a little at his responsibilities drawing him away from friends. "Yeah, he and I had a wonderful time. I miss them all already," she sighed. "But, it also really is like Asura tried to tell me. I miss the surface, too. I'm glad now she told me to get out of the Feymarch more." She took a sip of her tea. "I don't think I'll be going back for such long periods anymore."

"Oh?" Cecil said. "Not that I'm not afraid when the next time I see you you'll have grown old, but are you sure that's what you want?"

"Mist is also my home," Rydia said. "And Eblan is too, now-"

"Oh," Cecil said, and Rosa thought, Ah.

"-and I've done what I set out to do with the new order of Summoners," Rydia continued. "There's not many, but there are some. My distant cousins, or random chance. They're doing so great, they study everything I tell them, and practice all the time," she said.

"Wait, but do you not still intend to keep them hidden? You don't need to tell us about them," Cecil said. "I still think you shouldn't. For their sake."

"I won't," Rydia said. "And I'm not. But I get to be proud of them, right? Let me brag a little! They're doing all the hard work but I like to think it's because I'm a good teacher, too!"

They all laughed.

She continued. "My point is, Mist is my home but it's not going to be the home of Summoners any longer. We're going to move around, stay separated for a time."

"That's a hard life," Cecil said.

"Not like wanderers," Rydia said. "Just a hidden group, our people in different places around the world. Living ordinary lives, as black mages or white mages. I might even have a Sage on my hand, if they can hold on to the balance. But I will be the only one who knows where all of them are," she said.

Cecil assumed this was what she needed help with. "What do you need? Anything I can give, I will," he said.

"Oh, no," Rydia said. "It's already done. The ninja skills have been of great help. Edge taught them the basics."

Cecil and Rosa glanced at each other. "He did?" Rosa said.

"He knows them?" Cecil said.

"He's the one who suggested all the subterfuge," Rydia said.

"But, he is . . . " A king, Cecil wanted to say.

"Ah," Rydia said. She sighed. "It really is unavoidable, politics."

"No. No," he said. "Not for this. It's too important. Does he understand that no one else can know? If, all the gods forbid, one day Eblan does as Baron did, then a record Edge leaves behind, even accidentally-"

"I don't think that will be a problem," Rydia said. "He doesn't know their names, or where they are. Give us some credit, please."

"Of course, of course," Cecil said. "But-"

"I don't think Eblan and the Summoners are going to be in conflict for a long time, unless Edge is taken off the throne," Rydia said, and shifted in her seat.

Rosa shifted. "Rydia, I know you've spent a lot of time with him, but he will always be the leader of his people before a friend," she said.

"I know. I know that!" She threw up her hands. "Next thing you're going to tell me is he has to marry some day," Rydia said, and avoided looking them in the eye.

"I'm sure that's hard to think about, Rydia," Cecil said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Whatever happens, Rosa and I will be here for you." He looked to Rosa for assistance, who was now being quiet for some reason Cecil couldn't fathom. "It - it might not even change much between you and Edge," he said.

"Well I hope not," Rydia said, "because he's married to me."

Cecil stopped rubbing his thumb over Rydia's scapula.

"What?" he said.

"I married him," she said. Her eyes twinkled and her nose was, very slowly, wrinkling again. "Edge. We got married. We decided in the Feymarch."

Rosa broke into a huge smile.

"Arm Lady and Daddymonster were really patient with him," Rydia said, using her private family nicknames for Asura and Leviathan from when she was a girl. "Daddymonster especially, while Edge figured it out. He was right, he needed time away from court."

Cecil said, "What?"

"Time away from court. To figure out that I am much scarier than Eblan court politics," Rydia said.

"Much scarier," Rosa said.

"No," Cecil said. "I mean, you . . . got married? You married Edge?"

Rosa giggled and stood up to cover his ears, laughing at him. "He needs a moment," she said.

Rydia was giggling now, too. "Why - why is he like this whenever anyone surprises him?"

"It's good news, Cecil," Rosa said, drumming his skull. "Don't think too hard."

"Hey, hey now," he said, grabbing Rosa and pulling her into his lap. "Of course it's good news! Con - Congratulations!" he said.

"Why are you wheezing," Rydia said, now laughing in full.

"I just needed a moment," Cecil said. "Oh, oh. Oh. You're married." He stood up. Rosa squealed in indignation as she was forced to stand up too.

"Cecil, what-"

"You're the Queen of Eblan, now," Cecil said.

Rosa dashed around and grabbed Rydia in a huge hug.

"I feel like - like this is very good but maybe a little bit rushed," Cecil said.

Rosa glared at him from over Rydia's head.

"Are you sure about this?" he said.

Rosa huffed. Rydia said, "Well, I sure hope so, because it's done! Yes, Sir Cecil, I'm sure."

Cecil blushed. Rydia had only ever called him Sir Cecil when first reacquainted as adults and unsure of mortal habits.

"She spent six months with him in the Feymarch," Rosa said. "That's plenty long enough."

"The Eidolons all like him," Rydia said.

"I . . . " Cecil said. "I don't mean about the Eidolons. Eblan has assassins, Rydia. Eblan is assassins."

"That's a negative stereotype, but yes. It is. But I'm not worried about them," Rydia says. "Or the old judgy Judys at court."

"Who knows?" Rosa said. This was what Cecil really wanted to know but couldn't assemble the words for.

"The Lord and Lady of the Feymarch, Edge's personal guard, and his seneschal. And now you two. For now."

"Oh, so we are still important to you," Cecil said.

Rydia and Rosa stared at him.

Cecil clapped his hand over his mouth.

"I didn't mean that," he said. "I didn't mean that. Rydia, I'm sorry, I don't know why I think I have the right-"

"Cecil," Rosa said, and having known Rosa for most of his life and been married to her for five years now, he heard the danger. "Are you jealous?"

Damn women and their damn intuition understanding him before he understood himself.

"No!" he said. "I'm not jealous."

Rydia muttered something under her breath. Unless Cecil's ears were also as muddled as his thoughts were, it very much sounded like, "And there he goes again with the guilt spiral."

"Cecil." The Queen of Baron crossed her arms. "You're upset she didn't tell you they were getting married when they were in the Feymarch," Rosa said.

"No, that's ridiculous! I wouldn't be so petty," he said, and hoped, oh how he hoped, that the political skills he gained as King were going to one day give him the ability to lie.

But not to Rosa. Never Rosa. Just because he wanted to avoid the consequences of his own stupidity right now didn't mean he thought it was a good idea to lie to his wife. She looked in his eyes. "You are," she said.

"That's absurd," Cecil said. I thought I stopped digging my own holes a long time ago. "I - I really don't know where I get the idea I can keep doing this to you, Rydia, but I am so sorry-"

"Keep doing what?" Rydia said.

Rosa stared him down too and Cecil felt almost nauseous.

"Keep doing what, exactly?" Rydia said.

"I - I -"

Rosa saw what he meant, saw him floundering, and finally gave blessed, stinging mercy. She uncrossed her arms and spoke quietly. "We're not your family."

"No," Cecil said. "We're not. I'm sorry."

Rydia looked between both of them, and no matter how hard Cecil told himself she was an adult - she was more than an adult, she had often walked the road between the sands of time and come out closer to Edge's age than Cecil's own -

- he still just saw a little girl peeking out from beneath the covers in Kaipo while he wiped his blade clean of his countrymen's blood.

"You're not?" Rydia said.

Cecil grew even more confused.

"So do you not want to be?" Rydia said.

Cecil and Rosa shared glances. "Huh?" Rosa said.

Rydia said, "I don't know a lot of people personally on the surface still. People that can come to a royal wedding. The Eidolons and my summoner students can't. Isn't it important for someone to give the bride away?"

"I'm confused," Cecil said.

"I am too," Rosa said.

"Oh. We're going to have another wedding," Rydia said. "I got scared and skipped ahead. Sorry. Do you . . . Do you not want to walk me down the aisle?" She tilted her head at Cecil. "It's more of a surface thing, Lord Leviathan already gave his blessing anyway. I thought it wouldn't matter to me but in the Eblan weddings I've been to - oh, oh no, oh Cecil don't cry," Rydia said.

Cecil reared back and touched his face. He was crying? Why had he started crying?

He blinked and was hugging Rydia. He blinked again and was sitting down in the chair sagging like a bag of potatoes. The weird noises coming from his mouth and nose were indecorous for a king of a sovereign nation to make, but wasn't he already among company that didn't care?

"Oh," he heard Rosa saying. "Another wedding. Oh, that makes sense."

"For the benefit of Eblan and everyone else," Rydia said. "Because it really is always about politics, isn't it? He's marrying the Summoners and I'm marrying Eblan."

"Politics," Rosa said. "Sometimes I think Kain had the right idea . . . "

"Is - is he alright?" Rydia said, eyeing Cecil.

"I think he will be, yes," Rosa said, and she squeezed her hand. Cecil realized it was wrapped in his. He squeezed back. "I've . . . never seen him like this, though," Rosa said.

"Cecil, sometimes I can't tell what's going on in your head," Rydia said.

"Oh that's alright," he said, sounding like he had a head cold. "Makes two of us."

"So . . . can you do it?" Rydia said. "Walk me down the aisle?"

Cecil burst into tears again.

"That's happy crying," Rosa said. "Yes. Yes, he will, or I will throw him in the dungeon myself."

"I'm glad I have you to translate," Rydia said.

"Well I - I really don't know what's happening. Cecil, honey, breathe-"

Rydia started giggling. "Oh, no, I've broken him again."

[thdorkmagnet]

To Market, To Market (Turtle Tots: Before the Rise)

@flufftober 2024 Day 4- Market Day

Chapter Summary: April takes Mikey and his brothers to a farmer's market. 

Duo: April and Mikey

A/N: Finally, April makes her first appearance! I couldn't keep her away for too long being the boys big sis and all, hehe. I also wanted to take Flufftober as an opportunity to show off her relationship to each of the brothers and I had to start with Mikey. Oldest and youngest interactions let's gooooo!

There also seems to be no duo name for April and any of her siblings save for Donnie! Or at least I'm not aware of any. And if that is the case then the fandom really needs to get on that smh. I would offer my own ideas but it's late and I'm very tired so um, let me know if one DOES exist or if you have any ideas for a duo name! I want April and Mikey duo to have a proper name!!

Disclaimer: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles belongs to Andy Suriano, Ant Ward, and Nickelodeon. All rights belong to them.

Having April as a best friend was the coolest thing that had ever happened to Mikey. Not just because hanging out with his new, super cool best friend was the most fun he'd ever had, ever! But also because it meant he and his brothers got to do all these new, super cool things with her and up on the surface of all places! Growing up in the sewers Mikey had always been curious what living on the surface was like and whenever he hung out with April, he actually got to experience that firsthand!

Visiting April was like stepping into a whole different world, one that was bright and colorful and full of actual, real humans and not just Mikey, his brothers, and his dad. And she made sure they got as many fun experiences as she could. She showed them lots of cool places they could never go to alone and was always really careful about not letting other humans get too close so even Raph didn’t have to worry as much. One time she took them to a pool late at night and they spent the whole night doing cannonballs and splashing each other. Another time she took them to a giant store filled to the brim with more plushies than Mikey could ever want or imagine, some you could even make yourself. The teddy bear section alone had Raph almost hyperventilating with joy. 

Hanging out with April was an experience none of them wanted to miss out on, so it really no surprise when she showed up at the lair that day and asked if any of them wanted to join her at the farmer’s market, they all said yes immediately. Mikey agreeing before he even knew what a farmer’s market was. 

Turns out it was a bunch of stands selling fruits and vegetables. More fruits and vegetables than Mikey had ever seen in his life! They sold other things too, but mostly it was just the fruits and veggies from what he could tell. April said all of it was supposed to be homegrown so it was fresh and tasted better than food from the supermarket. Mikey just nodded along, trusting that to be right. 

He was really glad he came. The stands were bright and colorful like the food and the people there were all smiles and polite words. The atmosphere was so nice Mikey almost forgot he was supposed to hide the fact he wasn’t human like everyone else. Luckily April had him covered, keeping him away from large crowds and making sure his hoodie was pulled up over his head at all times. 

The twins and Raph also seemed to be enjoying themselves, Donnie carefully scanning each stand with that scrutinizing gaze of his, Leo racing from stand to stand and shouting out any cool thing he saw, and Raph eagerly munching on any free samples people were kind enough to offer him.

Mikey followed along behind April everywhere she went, acting as her little shadow, bouncing on his toes as she herded him and his brothers around the large lot. He was curious about everything and had a mountain of questions to ask which April seemed eager to answer because she was cool that way. She was always so wise when it came to human stuff and Mikey loved learning new things from her. 

“Wanna know how to check if a watermelon is ripe or not?” April asked and Mikey nodded eagerly.

She waved him closer, picking up a melon from its pile. “You gotta listen for what sound it makes when you tap it.” April turned her ear towards the fruit, Mikey parroting the movement. 

She rapped her knuckles against it and Mikey heard a hollow thunk. 

“Hear that?” April asked and he nodded, wide-eyed. “That means it's ripe.” 

“Wooooow,” Mikey whispered in awe, feeling like he’d just learned some great secret. “How did you know that?” 

April shrugged modestly, pulling a few dollars from her pocket and handing it to the vendor, who was busy chatting with another customer. 

Mikey helped her slip the watermelon into the oversized bag April was carrying and apparently it was heavier than anticipated because she let out an oof when it hit the bottom. April quickly repositioned so she could hold it better, glancing over her shoulder. “Hey Raph, could you-” 

But there was no one behind her, the others seemingly vanishing into thin air. Mikey spotted them over at another booth, Donnie holding something tight to his chest, eyes narrowed, as Raph was trying to coax him into giving it back. Leo was egging his twin on, even as Raph shot him warning looks and frowns. April chuckled, rolling her eyes at the sight. “Figures,” she muttered, voice more fond than annoyed. “Looks like it's just the two of us for a while.” 

“I can carry it!” Mikey offered, reaching up for the bundle, excited to help. 

But for some reason April didn't hand it over, instead she moved it away from his grip, giving him a patient smile and pat on the head. “Nah, that's okay bud. I got it.” 

Mikey pouted, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. He didn't know why April wouldn't just let him hold the bag, too. He could do it. He was strong like Raphie. “But I wanna help,” Mikey whined, giving April the sad eyes that always got his way. 

But apparently April was immune because all she said was, “Then how bout you carry this for me instead?” She offered him the much lighter bag slung over her shoulder, carrying only a few carrots and a small jar of honey. 

Mikey frowned but accepted the offered bag, still eager to be useful even if it wasn't in the way he wanted to be useful. 

But then April thanked him for being “a big help” and he glowed with pride, his usual energy returning as they headed for the next booth. He was practically skipping beside her when he asked, “Hey April, why does your mom buy food here instead of the store?”

April sighed dramatically, throwing her whole head back and staring up at the cloudless sky. “Mikey, I've asked myself that same question a hundred times.” 

“Is it ‘cause it's dangerous?” Mikey asked with a curious tilt of his head. That was the reason he and his brothers never went in the store during the day. Their dad said there were too many humans and being around humans was dangerous. But April's mom was human so it should be safe for her. 

“Nah, nothing like that,” April said with a casual wave of her hand. “Mom just likes having fresh ingredients instead of store bought stuff. Says it's ‘tastier when it comes straight from the source.’” It was clear from the way April's voice got deeper and her chest puffed out, she was trying to mimic her mom. But since Mikey had never heard her mom's voice he had no idea if it was a good imitation or not. 

“Is she right?” Mikey asked, curious if this was advice he could use to make his own cooking better. 

April shrugged. “Dunno, it kinda tastes the same to me.”

Mikey was more than a little disappointed in that answer. But then he realized he could just test it himself. Yeah! That way he'd know for sure. He could even ask Donnie to help. Donnie loved making things into proper experiments. 

As Mikey daydreamed, April pulled out the list from her pocket, reading it out loud. “Okay, what else we got? Stuff to make dough, tomato sauce, mozzarella… sounds like pizza again.”

That snapped Mikey back to reality. “Pizza?!” he exclaimed, leaning over with sudden interest, eyes scanning over the list fervently. 

April obliged his enthusiasm and pointed the listed items out for Mikey. “Yeah see, these are all ingredients to make pizza.” 

“You can make pizza?!” Mikey yelled at the top of his lungs, completely floored by this revelation.

“Uhhh yeah,” April said, eyebrows slowly raising.

Mikey couldn’t believe it! All this time he’d thought pizza just came from pizzerias. Or people on motorcycles. But according to Donnie those people worked at the pizzerias and were paid to deliver the pizzas. So beyond that, Mikey had never even considered that a person outside a pizza place could make their own! This was huge!

Instantly Mikey was hopping up and down, latched onto April with a death grip. “I wanna make one! I wanna make my own pizza! Can I?! Pretty please! Please, please, pleaaaassseee” He batted his eyes cutely, hoping this one was more effective than the sad eyes from earlier. 

Mikey saw a small hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth but it was gone a second later as she thoughtfully tapped her chin. “Hmmmm, well mom did give me a little extra cash in case I wanted to get something for myself.” 

Mikey squealed, hopping even faster. “Can we use it to buy stuff to make pizza! Please, please, please, please, please-”

“Okay, okay,” April interrupted the stream of begging, laughing as she tried to shrug Mikey off her arm. “We can get you stuff to make pizza!” 

“Yay!” Mikey exclaimed, releasing April’s arm so he could hug her tight around the middle. “You're the bestest, most coolest friend ever!” 

April giggled, giving his back a little pat. “And don’t you forget it,” she said, light and teasing. 

Mikey, too excited to stay still a moment longer, grabbed April’s hand and started dragging her deeper into the market. “Okay, let’s hurry and find everything so I can start making pizza!” 

April didn’t fight his hold like he’d expected, instead running to try and keep pace with him, her contagious laughter still loud and strong. 

They quickly passed by Mikey’s brothers who all turned to watch them go, eyes wide and confused. “Hey, where you two off to in such a hurry?” Raph asked. 

Mikey shot his big brother a smile over his shoulder. “To find ingredients so I can make pizza!” he explained quickly. 

“You can do that!” Leo, Raph and even Donnie exclaimed in absolute disbelief, making April laugh impossibly harder than before.