#and then i can get back into properly writing

[ramshacklefey]

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and The Things They Carried rewired parts of my brain. The Odyssey was a real treat. (Especially when some of my classmates who found the language rather opaque started gathering around me at morning homeroom to hear my retellings of last night's reading assignment.)

But I know some of you probably have or had a miserable time in English class, and that may have been partly because your school didn't properly prepare you for reading the books ahead of time, so you were just totally at sea all the way through.

If that's the case, here are some tips for getting more enjoyment out of a book you're struggling with!

Look up summaries of individual chapters (CliffsNotes usually has these). Then go back and read them. Having an idea of what's happening might help you follow along with language or writing styles that you're struggling with.

Let yourself skim over particular passages you're baffled by and latch onto the ones that make sense. Finding points that you can follow might help you make sense of the trickier ones by providing context.

If you don't understand a character's motivations, especially in older books and books that take place in a foreign country, it might be because you're missing context. That's okay, and your teacher isn't expecting you to have encyclopedic knowledge of the historical and cultural context for a book.

But also, even in the most unfamiliar circumstances, you can look for things that make sense to you. The characters are still people, and regardless of context, people are still people.

But also, sometimes you just can't relate to the character. That's ok. "Well I would never ____" Yes, but this person did. And here's why. In the world they live in, it made sense or it was the only thing they could do. And there are people in real life who do that. Now you've seen a little bit of why.

You don't have to like all the characters. Some characters (even the protagonists) you're supposed to hate. Sometimes that's because the author is saying, "This bastard is fucked up, but do you see how he got that way?" Sometimes it's, "This bitch made every wrong choice possible, but damn if it didn't make some wild drama."

Remember that sometimes the author may not explain exactly why something happens because it's supposed to be a bit of a mystery at first! Keep reading and see if it gets explained later!

Look up words in the dictionary!!

If you're having trouble keeping a lot of characters in your head, make a cast list. "John is Mary's brother and he's a bit of a dick."

It's okay if there are books you simply do not vibe with. Give them a fair shake, but really, even the kids who love English class are gonna have books they hate. I despised a few of the books I read for school. But remember that struggling with a book and not liking it aren't the same thing!

And for the love of everything holy. Ask. Your. Teacher. Questions. Write them down while you're reading and ask! If you're scared to ask in class, talk to them at another time! But I can guarantee that if you didn't understand something, some of your classmates didn't either. If your teacher is remotely competent, they'll be delighted to answer your questions.

And there are no questions too simple to ask in class!! "Why did this character do this thing?" "What's up with this sentence?" "I tried reading this, and here's what I think the events of this chapter were. Is that really what happened?" "What the heck is a ____?" "Why was this bit in here? It doesn't seem like it's important to the plot." "How do we know that ____ theme is in here?"

Yes, there are themes and symbols and motifs and whatever else in books. Your teacher isn't just making it up. People tell stories for a reason. The author is trying to communicate something to you. "Well why didn't they just say that?" Because saying it in a story shows you something about it. I can tell you, "Love isn't always enough to save you." or I can show you that by telling you a story about two people who fall in love and then get their shit wrecked. I can tell you, "This war happened and it was awful," or I can show you the people who were in it and what it did to them. I can tell you, "The government is a corrupt pile of festering feces," or I can show you what might happen if we keep going on the path we're on.

And you might not agree! You can say, "No, it wouldn't happen like that." You can say, "But this war was worth it because it resulted in this." You can say, "Actually, this particular social outcome seems pretty rad to me." That's okay because stories are a conversation, not the word of God from on high. But again, give the author a fair shake.

The most important thing is that you don't just give up if you're struggling. You're in school to learn! So accept that there are things you don't already know.

I straight up do not trust you if you did not enjoy a single book you had to read for English class. I know they assigned some real stuffy stinkers and the curriculum varies across districts but not one? Not The Outsiders? Not The Picture of Dorian Gray? Not Fahrenheit 451? Not even Frankenstein? Damn. That’s crazy.

[celuere]

kiss it, bite it, can i fit it?

pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader

context: your first time getting dragged into a lesbian bar after you came to therealization that men are simply just not for you. little did you know, your friends already had someone set up for you…

cw: modern au, dilf arle, implied age gap, shameless flirting, reader is lowkey inexperienced, strap-on, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, arle introduces you into the world of awesome sesbian lex, body worship, modern arle has her whole arms tattooed and you cannot convince me otherwise, no shade thrown on my bisexual icons, i am one myself pookies

word count: 2.9k

i‘m watching snapcubes sonic fandub while writing so i‘m sorry for any lack of braincells in this one

 „furina i… i really don‘t know if this was a good idea…“

it was currently 8:47pm on a saturday night and you were stuck in a lesbian bar  to which your friends furina and navia dragged you to, insisting it‘s a… great way to get you started!

one hour later navia sneaked off to talk to the purple-haired bartender and furina just nervously checked her phone every few minutes while she seems to be friends with quite a lot of todays visitors.

and you? you just stared holes into your cocktail you didn‘t touch for a single time. debating wether or not you should excuse yourself and drive home. you felt a little out of place here in this small community.

finally, furina‘s phone blinked up and her eyes widened before they found yours, a mischievous grin slowly spreading over her face.

she planned something. no wonder she kept checking her phone every few minutes.

„oh, this was a fantastic idea… you really thought i‘d just drag you here for fun…? i actually got the perfect match for you.“, patting herself on the shoulder for how good her plan seems to go so far, you wanted to choke her.

„that is not what we talked about-!“

„oh, this is exactly what we talked about! i pinky promise you will like her! she is an entomologist at the nearby institute, can name every insect and spider by a simple look and-“

„o-okay, okay, I get it-! still, i would have liked a little warning!“, you bent over the table to pinch her into the cheek.

„ow-ow-ow!! i-i knew you‘d have dipped if i told you about it-! now let got o-of me-!“, you sighed as you freed furina‘s cheek from your deathgrip and looked back down into the distorted reflection of your face in your drink.

„i‘m still new to all this so-“, you halted mid sentence when you noticed that the seat in front of you was suddenly empty, even her drink was gone.

oh this little-

„furina wasn‘t exaggerating when she told me about you being good on the eyes…“, a rather deep female voice spoke up behind you over the music before she came into view.

and all you wanted to do is get on your knees and thank furina over a million times for forcing you out of your apartment today.

because it was so worth it for the woman currently standing before you.

with her white-black hair being put up into a rather not so tidy bun, down to the fancy silken shirt being half unbuttoned… and the tattoos running both of her hands up to her forearms before disappearing underneath the fabric.

what in the world.

„i…“, you were forced to clear your throat before answering her, „y-yes… i think that would happen to be me…“, you looked her down once again. twice again. thrice again.

„sweetheart, if you‘re done undressing me with your eyes, i would love to get us both out of here. i‘m not exactly a fan of bars and clubs…“, flashing you a short smile, she put both her hands into the pockets of her pants.

„i- o-oh, goodness i-i‘m so sorry-! let me just-“, quickly gathering your stuff, you threw your jacket over your shoulder and got up from your seat, „good to go now-!“.

„and i haven‘t even properly introduced myself to you… a little excited, hm?“, she chuckled lowly before holding our her hand to you, „peruere. and your name is…?“, she couldn‘t help but let a chuckle slip past her lips at your almost humiliated expression.

that smile was driving you fucking insane.

 „my uh name is [name]! it is nice meeting you, peruere-!“, taking her extraordinarily warm hand into yours and giving it a light squeeze, suddenly leaving your apartment for tonight sounded like the best idea ever.

„the pleasure is all mine. now shall we get going…? it is a little too crowded in here for my taste…“.

peruere turned out to be a pleasant conversation partner. whatever topic you choose, she had a vast knowledge on almost everything and a charismatic touch to it too. it also came to your attention that she has three adopted children, a son aged 13 and a set of 16 year old twins.

„may i ask how you realized that just… men were not for you? that is a huge realization after all, not everyone can so easily come to term with.“, taking a turn with you to the left leading slowly to the exit of the park you were currently strolling around.

„it was… a little scary to be fair… but after countless failed relationships and dates, i slowly started to maybe consider that i‘m just not really interested in men. and after i went on yet another date i realized mid conversation that this is just… not for me? if that makes any sense… furina and my other friends certainly didn‘t seem surprised at all on the other hand, which was… a little embarrassing if i am being honest.“, you scratched the back of your head as you nervously laughed your own words off.

but peruere just looked straight down at you, not a hint of amusement in sight at your story, „it‘s not embarrassing at all. sometimes you have to try things out and make a few wrong choices before coming to the conclusion that you maybe have to handle things differently. you are not weird for discovering yourself fully in your mid twenties. look, my youngest son ist 13 years old and just now realized that he in fact does not like his astrology themed bedroom… after we had it completely decorated from ceiling to floor. guess we have to go for the undersea theme he has been wanting so dearly now. that is just part of growing up.“, she couldn‘t help but shove a few strands of your hair behind you ear.

„just like i am now realizing how beautiful you actually look in this particular light…“.

your body felt suddenly too hot for the clothes you were wearing, you weren‘t used to such… personal compliments from an almost stranger. even tho you never had as much chemistry with your previous dates as you did with her…

„y-you really are too sweet…w-we barely know each other, yet you speak to me as if it were ages…“

„i‘m not a fan of idle chitchat were i‘m simply listing up my favorite colors and how many steps it takes me from my bedroom into the bath.“, she is crossing her arms now and blowing a bit of her own hair out of her face.

„well… i would still like the answer to both of these things…“

something flashed up in the much taller woman‘s eyes.

„red and 14.“

you didn‘t know how the both of you made it to your apartment complex without clawing your clothes off. as soon as the elevator was closed, she was all over you. hands grabbing onto whatever curve they could as her lips moved against yours in an almost sexual manner. sucking on your tongue before pushing her own inside your mouth, teeth clashing together as if she wanted to eat you right up. your mixed saliva was running down the corner of your mouth when the elevator reached its destination.

„forgive me my… urgent behavior… it has been a while since i left the house for something like… a date…“, she stepped away from you, but not before wiping your chin clean of any spit with her thumb and stepping aside, „be so kind and lead the way, dear.“.

you just laughed her off as you walked into the hallway to your door, already fishing out the keys, „really this long…? i guess coming around is a little difficult with three kids to take care of and a career.“, sticking the key now into the hole and twisting it.

„it‘s not exactly something i mind. i choose to adopt them willingly. sure, a little more time to myself would be nice from time to time… but being a father has been nothing but fulfilling to me. i just wish lyney would stop setting things on fire for his magical tricks…“, she followed you inside your lofty abode, immediately taking her shoes off.

„that sounds… not really fun to worry about…“, you barely hung up your jacket when peruere‘s hand wrapped around your waist, tugging you back against her. hot breath hitting your ear as she leaned down to your height.

 „i have something much better on my mind right now anyways.“, pressing a gentle kiss to your ear that sent shivers down your spine, „which way is your bedroom, lovely…?“

„it‘s right at the end of the hallway… i just…“, you looked completely embarrassed away as you turned around, a light blush adorning your cheeks as you avoided eye contact.

„since i uh… did not expect this evening to take such a… turn… i did not take any appropriate measures beforehand…“

that woman looked never more puzzled in her life.

„as in…?“

„i did not shave…“, it was barely an inaudible mumble.

„excuse me, i did not quite catch that… try speaking up a little.“, she almost looked a little amused.

repeating yourself never felt more embarrassing, „i… did not shave… i‘m sorry…“

silence.

 „get your ass into that bed.“

she might as well just slapped you across the face.

„i- how?? isn‘t that the standard?“, you were literally getting shoved into the direction of your bedroom.

„if you think a bit of body hair is scaring me off, then i must disappoint you.“

as soon as you reached your bedroom, she was already fumbling with the buttons of your shirt.

„i-it‘s just that my previous dates were usually never fond of it-!“, a moan slipped out your mouth as she suddenly found her lips plastered on your neck, licking and sucking and search of your most sensitive spot.

her next words came out slightly muffled against your skin.

„they must have been cowards.“

the next moments were a mess of clothes just getting ripped off of you and herself unti you were left in nothin but half opened bra as peruere left a trail of hot and greedy kisses down your stomach. 

„relax and lay back for me. mhm… just like that…“, watching you as you laid back on your mattress only to feel her parting your legs and throwing them over her shoulders, you soon felt her lips caressing the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

„so beautiful… all ready for me… don‘t mind if i do…“, she didn‘t give you the chance to reply before she buried her head between your legs, tongue lapping up and down your folds and making sure to savor every drop of your arousal, prying your lips apart with her two fingers as she plunged her tongue finally into your aching pussy. she had you gripping the sheets with one hand her hair with the other in a matter of seconds. one moan after the other stumbling out of your mouth as quite literally fucked you with her bare tongue, her own groans of pleasure being drowned out by your cunt. she was treating you like a gourmet dinner, and holy mother on earth- you never experienced anything like this. she had technique, rhythm, everything. when she slipped the two fingers that were spreading you apart for her tongue, inside of you, it was as good as over of you. 

it took her merely a few experimental thrusts and curls of her hands before she found an enjoyable rhythm for you, and your g-spot along with it. with her mouth now wrapping around your already sensitive clit, you were hanging by a thread. her name was everything occupying your mind while you were swiped empty of anything else other than the woman feasting on your pussy like she has been starved for the past centuries. 

with the occasional spread of her fingers inside of you and her digits rubbing your sweet spot to mush, it unsurprisingly did not take long for you until your legs were quivering around her head, your juices spilling right over her fingers, you were technically fucking her face.

„mh-“, she allowed you to let you ride out your high on her hand before slowly rising back up from between your legs  and withdrawing her fingers.

„my… such a good girl… that certainly looked like it felt good, didnt it?“, licking over her lips before moving her soaked fingers up to her mouth, she didn’t break eye contact when putting her fingers between her lips to lick them clean of any of your remains.

holy mother of god.

you could only stare. panting. leaking. as she swirled her tongue around her fingers, even having the guts to slightly moan at the taste of you.

did she plan on killing you? because it was working.

„my… out of words, dove…?“, slowly letting her gaze glide over your shaking figure, a slight smirk tugged on the woman‘s lips. she was satisfied with the results of her works.

when you nodded lightly to her question she chuckled, „adorable… the chances are low, but you don‘t happen to own a strap-on do you?“

another reason to thank furina. she thought it was a funny idea to gift you one as your „coming-out-gift“. you thought she was being ridiculous. now you couldn‘t stop praising her in your mind.

„a-actually I do… left nightstand, l-lower drawer…“, you watched her hum in delight as she followed your instructions.

„now isn’t that just convenient for the both of us…“, peruere eyed the harness for a few seconds before it was buckled on around her hips with nothing more than a few smart handgrips. this woman couldn’t get any better. right…?

„my love, you are staring again.“, now laughing slightly as she leaned over you, a hand running down your thigh before pushing it up against your chest, you soon felt the tip of the dildo pressing against your drenched entrance.

„i just… i-i‘m just wondering… hah… what about y-your pleasure…? let me return the favor- ah-!“, peruere looked down at you as if you just said the cutest thing in the whole world as she pressed the tip inside.

she only spoke up after grabbing your chin and adding a few more inches into your clenching cunt.

„my pleasure? this. this right here…“, she slowly bends down to your face as you felt the tip kissing your cervix. you were now panting and whining right into her face.

„…is my pleasure.“, dragging her hips back before thrusting them right back into you as the older woman watched you fall apart underneath her with each of her movements, she angled her hips differently with each thrust, trying to see which one you enjoyed most before picking up the pace. 

everything was too much. her hitting your sensitive spot with each fuck of her hips back against yours. the hungry and desperate kisses she was showering you in. her free hand pulling and massaging your tit. it was simply too much for you. you had plenty of men before her but none of them ever cared to make you feel this fucking good. to make you moan right into the kisses she was drowning you in until you were gasping for air, running your hands through her messed up hair. then grabbing onto her toned shoulders when you begged her between soft whines and desperate pleas to fuck you harder. to show you what you have been missing out on with her.

she did not stop after you came a second time. nor after the third time.

you were all sobby and sweaty by the time she had you propped up in her lap, ramming her hips into yours while she gently encouraged you to ride her.

„just like that, doll… look at how great you are doing for me. does that feel good hm? i‘m sure it does… just look at how drenched my lap is in your arousal.“, she reached up to pull you into a hot kiss by your neck.

„one more, my pretty thing. you can do that for me. can‘t you?“, whispered words against your lips before pulling you right back against hers. her free had guiding you by your ass over her dick as you poor fucked out thing could do nothing but ride her like a good girl. she is going to have so much fun with you in the future. she still had to show you so many things, you surely want to experience it all with her.

right?

she quickly recognized your body growing shakier and weaker once again „mhm, that‘s right, come all over my lap…“

and you obliged. not like you had any other chance.

she let you calm down first, coming into your ear before carefully lifting you off of her lap.

„so good… now relax while i am cleaning up our mess, alright?“

you managed a soft smile and thumbs up. you weren’t capable of more right now.

all hail to furina.

[strange-aeons]

hi strange i’ve been enjoying yr videos for about four years thank u for giving me giggles for so long. however i am writing as i am not totally sure who else to ask…

my boyfriend had a traumatic pneumothorax last week and about 80% of his right lung collapsed. i don’t really know anything about pneumothorax (although i have learned so much recently lol) aside from hearing you mention it and as such i don’t know how to help him :(

i know it’s a shot in the dark but i was wondering if there are any comforts or ways to alleviate pain you could share? thank you so much strange you are super tough btw to have gone through this several times this Sucks big time

many good wishes to you and your sweet hairless babies in the new year!

If it happened one week ago he’s already gotten through the worst part! I’m assuming he’s still hospitalized with a chest tube in right now??

When I was in that situation it helped a lot having frequent visits from my partner and family. Especially when they brought snacks!!!!!! Hospital meals can be borderline inedible and there’s no way of escaping to the food court when you have a chest tube in (unless you plan to deceive multiple nurses and risk life threatening infection through the OPEN HOLE IN YOUR CHEST. Don’t do that).

Good food can be a relief in an otherwise horrible time, so finding out what he really wants to eat and brining it will definitely help. If he has no appetite then things like smoothies or drinkable soup can be very helpful. I often live off booster juice and Tim Hortona chicken noodle soup when hospitalized.

Finding the right media to keep sane is also very important!!! Your sleep schedule disintegrates entirely when laying on your back full of tube for multiple days. 2AM listening to alarms go off and 6AM getting woken up for x-rays and 1pm having the lunch slop delivered and 3pm being woken up for x-rays and 9pm visit from your surgeon all become basically indistinguishable, especially if you have no windows. Podcasts were ideal for me because it can be very hard to find a comfortable position with a chest tube / pneumothorax and looking at a screen was often too much of a hassle. Queer as fact and fall of civilizations are both excellent if you want non fiction btw. Old gods of Appalachia or welcome to nightvale if you want fiction.

There’s not a lot that you as a loved one can do about his physical pain, but I will share some of my pneumothorax expertise with you and anyone else who might go through this.

There’s no nerve endings in the lungs so all the pain/ discomfort related to a pneumothorax has to do with pressure in the chest cavity.

The pain is the absolute worst when your lung is actively collapsing so when that feeling starts SHOVE SOME EXTRA STRENGTH ADVIL OR TYLENOL DOWN YOUR THROAT, then lay down and wait for it to finish collapsing. It may seem tempting to rush to the hospital as fast as possible (or rush your loved one who’s lung is collapsing to the hospital) but trust me the last thing you want to do with a lung that is actively deflating like a sad balloon is exert yourself (this is how I collapsed my lung the full 100% and could not move my upper body for an hour. Quirky). Give it at least 30 minutes of floor time before you try to move. You will have a way better time getting to the hospital.

Wait sorry I lied lung re-inflation hurts sometimes more than the initial collapse. The sometimes are the times when ER nurses do not know how to do it properly. Immediately after they put the chest tube in, they attach it to a suction machine to suck out the excess air in your chest cavity. I do not know if these machines are the same internationally (I’m Canadian) but if you’re dealing with one where the settings are percentages, the one you want is 20% suction. NOT 100%!!! that just causes unnecessary excruciating pain without being more effective. I have had to fight numerous nurses while in the worst pain of my life to TURN THE PAIN MACHINE DOWN. fuck the pain machine. Anyway. After the pain machine they leave the tube in for a few more days to make sure the lung stays inflated. Nearing the end of that process, most of the discomfort is caused by the tube itself, so as horrible disgusting the worst getting that thing ripped out is, just know you will feel so much better after.

Throughout the healing process (and in the case of small pneumothoraxes not requiring chest tubes — I’ve had over 10 of those ones) I’ve noticed that heightened discomfort lasting a few minutes results from going from laying down to standing up or vice verse, or from bending over. This is why I have pioneered the sophisticated technique know as the pneumothorax squat. It is just as cool and hot as you’re imagining.

This post was supposed to be about how to support a loved one with a pneumothorax what the heck am I even talking about now.

Most of what he’s going to need will seem boring or insignificant. Companionship. Food. Medication. Toiletries. COMPANIONSHIP. podcast recommendations. But it absolutely is not insignificant. Abruptly losing mobility, independence, and bodily autonomy as a young person is really fucked up and I cannot fathom doing it without my family and my partner, even if most days that consisted of talking to me and bringing me smoothies and underwear.

Wishing a quick recovery to your boyfriend! Good luck with everything!!

[l1tw1ck]

Thunder

Bottom!FTM Cloud Strife x Top!Male Reader

⛈️ Word Count: 1,799 ⛈️

While out on a mission, you and Cloud get caught in a sudden thunderstorm, forcing you to find shelter for the night until it stops. But after a couple days, there aren't any signs of it letting up

AFAB Language Used | I had writer's block and got bored so i decided to finally continue playing final fantasy. I stopped like 30 minutes in to write this fic at 12AM. i put down the game (temporarily! i love it) after the section 8 stuff so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies, just needed to take advantage of this burst of motivation

CW: Rape/Non-Con, Somnophilia, Power Imbalance, Frottage, Teasing, Creampie

You peek outside the window, or what was left of it, of the broken down building you're in then turn to Cloud. “Looks like we’ll have to stay the night.” Lightning strikes to reinforce your words. “Think you can handle it, pretty boy?”

“Stop treating me like a rookie.” Cloud sighs. “And stop calling me pretty boy.”

“It's hard when you look like an adorable little kitten.” You smile.

He rolls his eyes and looks around for burnable items.

“It's like watching a lion cub hunt and gather.”

“I can't wait for this night to be over.” He groans. “How about you do something useful, captain?”

“Like what, kitty?”

Cloud grips the damp piece of wood in his hand in annoyance. “Like maybe finding things to keep the water out of here.” He tosses the wood aside.

“Sure.” You stretch.

The two of you worked together to make the old building livable for the night and went to sleep thinking it’d be over by morning.

Cloud wakes up to the loud sound of thunder and sighs. He sees you leaning against the wall. “It's still raining.”

“It sure is.” You chuckle. “We might be here for a while, kitty. Unless you want to run out and somehow dodge all that lightning?”

The two of you are way too far from the base to even consider doing that. The job pays well but not enough for Cloud to not be annoyed with this sudden detour. “I better get a bonus for this.”

“Of course. You could get paid even more if you did me a little favor.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“About 60,000 gil plus your bonus pay.”

“What is it?” He asks, attentive.

You smirk. “Since we're gonna be stuck here for who knows how long, I think it’d be nice to do something as a…pastime of sorts.”

“Stop beating around the bush.”

You motion for him to come over. He rolls his eyes and gets up. “I know you're talented in so many ways,” You grab his wrist and pull him close to you. “And I wanna see if you're talented in this way too.”

He pushes you and steps back, his cheeks red. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.” You laugh.

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

The sun set and the sky continued to pour. Then days passed. You rationed food and managed to find other edible things to keep yourselves alive but the situation isn't all that great for you. You're still functioning, but just by a small margin.

The two of you were able to collect rainwater to drink and help yourselves clean up. Cloud insisted on doing it upstairs so you wouldn't watch him. You promised you wouldn't but you were lying.

As time went on, it was getting harder and harder to keep it in your pants. Your mental state started to get a little wonky thanks to your body not getting all the nutrients it needs. You couldn't stop thinking about how much you wanted him, especially since it was better than thinking about food. It got to a point where you couldn't even fall asleep.

You look at Cloud’s sleeping face, studying the slight movements in his facial muscles as he dreams. The soft glow of your lamp allows you to properly see him despite the darkness. His chest slowly rises and falls. You know if you made an attempt, he’d wake up, any good soldier would. But it's getting hard to control yourself. Being in such close proximity with him is driving you mad. You hesitantly, and very softly, touch his shoulder. He doesn't react. You poke his cheek. Nothing. You pause.

You trace your finger down his chest and to his pants. You carefully unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn't seem to notice you pulling them down. You take in a small breath. You're so nervous it feels like there's a hole in your chest. You remove his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace. You gulp as you start to see his pussy. Light blond tufts of hair beautifully surround his soft, pudgy cunt and his t-dick. You look at him. He's sleeping peacefully. He must be more tired than usual tonight.

You gently pull his underwear down his ankles and place it on the end of the blanket he’s laying on. You carefully spread his legs and slot yourself in between them. As you begin to free your aching hard dick, you start to feel a little bad. You tell yourself to give him a huge bonus after this. You gently rub your cock along his pussy, knowing you can definitely get off just by doing this. You don't want it to hurt, at least not too much, so you decide not to penetrate him since your luck would probably run out if you tried to prep him properly.

You bite down on your lip. The view is making you feel dizzy. Your ears drown out the sounds of the thunder storm and focus entirely on Cloud. On his soft, gentle breaths and the squelching sound of his wet pussy, aroused by your cock pressing itself against it. Your heart starts to pound louder, ruining your focus on Cloud.

You let out a breathy gasp as you begin to feel your climax approaching. Your eyes flicker over to his face, watching to make sure he's still asleep. You don't know how you’ve gotten this far but you're no longer so sure that you’ll be able to stop here. Your movements stutter as your cum splatters on his body.

“Cloud..” You whisper. His lack of reaction emboldens you to keep going. You move back and slide your middle finger inside his cunt. Squelch. It sucks it in with ease, and same with your ring finger. You slowly open him up while using your free hand to jerk yourself off. He twitches. You pause and look at him before continuing.

You eventually decide to stop and finally get to the good part. You gently lift Cloud’s legs and position the tip of your cock in front of his entrance. You take your time easing into him while constantly checking if he's awake.

Once you're finally fully inside, you take a couple minutes to take everything in. You're in serious disbelief but way too horny to be concerned about it. You know that, at this point, if he wakes up, you’ll be able to overpower him.

You slowly thrust into him, happily indulging in the wonders of Cloud Strife’s pussy. You gently caress his t-dick, smiling when you start to hear him whimper. “You feel so good, Cloud– ‘s like you were made for me, to tempt me..” You murmur, gradually picking up the pace. “I didn't think it’d be so easy…”

“Maybe you're not even asleep. No properly trained soldier would sleep through something like this…I wonder if you're enjoying this. Getting off on me assaulting you in your sleep like a slut.” You notice his cheeks starting to turn red. A chill runs down your spine as you start to get a feeling your assumption is correct. “You like this, Cloud? Letting yourself get taken advantage of? Does it feel good getting treated like a cocksleeve?”

He whimpers, his cunt squeezing you.

“I know you're awake. Answer me.”

His eyes flutter open, his face flushed and deliciously seductive. “It– it feels good-!” He moans.

“Good boy.” You grin. You never would've thought Cloud would be into something like this. You roughly pound into him. He cries out in pleasure, feeling his orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside and you're gonna take it like the good kitty you are.”

“Ye- yes–!” He shuts his eyes, squirting on your dick. His mouth hangs open as the aftershocks hit him. He smiles dreamily as he feels your cum flow inside of him.

You stop and catch your breath. “Did you reject me hoping this would happen?”

Cloud nods softly. “I didn't think it would…but I wanted it to.”

…..........

He pushes you and steps back. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.”

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

Cloud climbed the semi-intact stairs and explored the second floor of the building. There wasn't anything noteworthy inside but it did give him much needed privacy. No room to lay down but he didn't need to anyway.

He walked behind a wall to hide himself in case you decided to follow him, and unbuckled his pants. He stuck his hand down them and gently caressed his t-dick. He always knew you were attracted to him, it wasn't like you were hiding it, and he pretended that he hated it. He loves your pet names and the lustful way you look at his body. Part of him hoped that one day, you’d just force yourself on him and claim him like a prize. He didn't think it'd ever happen but he never got tired of fantasizing about it. He hoped he'd have some sort of opportunity for you to finally make your move.

He'd imagine you cornering him in the locker room showers and covering his mouth to make sure no one finds out.

Cloud sneakily rubs his sensitive nipples against the cold wall tiles as you enter him. “Shh, this is what you get for being such a tease.” You spank him, your cock forcefully entering his pussy. Cloud shivers at the sounds of your heavy breathing. He can tell how aroused you are and how much you love his body. He rolls his eyes back as you stretch him wide open, his own heavy breaths making him feel lightheaded.

Or he’d imagine you giving him an ultimatum and forcing him to submit to you in exchange for keeping his job.

Cloud fakes a look of disgust as he stares at your rock hard cock. He looks up at you then back at your length, hesitating before enveloping it in his mouth. “There you go, Cloud, finally doing what I hired you for.” You praise him. He shudders at the thought, his pussy throbbing with need. “This is what you should be doing, not out on the battlefield but here, pleasing me.”

He looks up at you, trying to look angry. You smirk and push his head down, forcing him to shift his focus back.

His latest fantasy was about being trapped together. He hoped that something would happen to keep the two of you together for a long time. And he’d tease you even more to frustrate you. Then you’d finally do it.

He didn't think that exact scenario would actually play out.

[gotham-mockingbird]

I had the best book in its ship on Wattpad and loved my work but the dozens of comments I got about my formatting (back when I didn’t know shit about fuck and was just messing around) made me so miserable

One day I decided to learn how to format “properly” and guess what???

They found something else to harp about

So I put my book up for adoption and took it down.

I made an alternate document where people could copy the work and gave it out

I’m down with Wattpad now and I’m on Ao3 but I don’t get enough engagement to want to write anymore

I try my best to shower authors in love cause I know how much one comment about how much your work inspired someone can give you so much motivation

I wanna know where people have lately gotten the audacity to leave comments on fanfics talking about how much the fanfic sucked and negatively critiquing an author's fic like it's a published book review.

It pisses me off cause I've seen authors abandoned or delete their fics because of this.

You're getting fanfics for FREE! No one asked for your opinion.

I hope y'all know as authors we get email notifications when you comment so we see EVERY comment that's been left.

We also can see the negative reviews you leave when you bookmark our fics

[genderkoolaid]

in what way, if any, do you think that indulging kinks is different than making jokes as far as emplanting/reinforcing ideas in the mind? do you think that being a sexual sadist makes you more permissive of nonconsensual violence?genuine question, feel free to ignore or answer privately if this is too thorny.

OKAY I have tried to write this 4 times now here we go!!!! This time it will NOT get deleted!!!!!!!!

This is a really good + important question so I am glad you asked! To me, it comes down to context and critical self-reflection.

Kink, done properly, occurs in a very specific and frank context. You discuss what a scene will look like beforehand, and then you discuss what happened and each person's experiences afterward. Proper kink requires blatant discussions of what is wanted and what is to be avoided, and the consent of all parties is what helps create this context.

Humor, on the other hand, tends to live in a hazy grey area between truth and lies. We like to think that because jokes are jokes, this means they are completely detached from our world. But humor has a social function. It helps bring people together, as well as delineate divisions. And it also helps us dip a toe into a certain feeling without having to discuss the feeling itself.

To give an example, let's talk about bees and wasps.

Say there is a person named A. A generally thinks of themself as liking animals and the natural world. They are against climate change and pro-biodiversity, although they don't really know a ton about these topics. They see people making jokes about wasps vs. bees: bees are sweet pollinators just trying to enjoy the summer, while wasps are angry assholes who will fuck your wife. A finds these jokes funny, especially having learned about how important bees are but having always been afraid of wasps. A also begins making jokes about how wasps have no purpose, they just exist to ruin your day, and should be killed. A finds themself joking about how we should really just kill off all wasps, since they are evil and worthless creatures. When A sees a wasp, they feel nothing but fear and the desire to kill it painfully. If they hear about something is causing mass death amongst wasps, they think its probably a net positive for everyone.

A was clearly biased against wasps from the beginning, which isn't really their fault; wasps can be scary and hurtful! The jokes seem to reaffirm their feelings as natural, socially valid, and even funny. But as I'm sure many of my followers know, wasps ARE pollinators and are quite important to the environment, as well as having the inherent worth that all creatures do. It's rather contradictory for A to both say they value biodiversity, while also devaluing an entire group of creatures and being okay with, or even advocating for, their extinction.

It is fully possible for A to dislike wasps, AND value biodiversity. The problem is that A does not really know how to apply their values to the world and their actions. They generally have beliefs, but those beliefs do not form a bedrock they can reference. Their values and their actions are not in conversation.

To take it back to what you were discussing: properly done kink always involves conversation between values and actions. The values are consent, risk-aware safety, and mutual pleasure/satisfaction/positive experiences. Knowing these values and what they mean, the people involved can talk about what they want to do and how those actions will relate to those values. When a sadist is hitting someone in a scene, they know that this is happening because they have created a context in which that action aligns with their values. And if someone does find that they are being shaped negatively by kink experiences, they can recognize that and choose to stop.

I believe there is a problem with people not truly knowing what they believe or value, and/or not truly knowing how their beliefs/values interact with the world and their actions. And when you combine that with the ambiguity of jokes, the way we are encouraged to see jokes as something separated from the "real world," and the way they can encourage people to follow their gut feelings and reaffirm them as socially valid and true, you get. well. bad times! radicalization! Oops All Assholes!

I just made a post that was kind of an example of this. I watched Megan Thee Stallion's documentary and joked about how she should be allowed to kill indiscriminately. When I think about making those kinds of jokes, I am keeping in mind:

Killing individuals doesn't solve systemic issues

I value transformative justice over punitive justice

I generally avoid making these- humourously communicating my anger at injustice into calls for violence- because I am conscious that jokes aren't "just jokes." This doesn't mean I NEVER do it. It's not, like, radioactive. Making a joke won't corrupt me a la the One Ring. But I make a choice to steer myself away from that kind of humor. Because I don't want to create that kind of thought pattern; because I am being conscious of the distinction between feeling and value, of catharsis and justice; because I don't want to connect with others on the basis of a belief I don't actually hold and am just putting on to express frustration; and because, in the case of other jokes, regardless of their impact on ME, they can still hurt other people. Even if you feel like you can make small dick jokes and still genuinely believe body-shaming is bad… if your jokes still have the impact of body-shaming people, then your values aren't really having an impact on your actions, at which point they are meaningless.

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Happy New Year, Sweetheart.

Short summary: celebrating the new year at Malfoy Manor goes differently than planned this time.

Warnings: 18+ only! oral f!receiving, fingering

A/N: I need to write more for this man.

wordcount: 1,0k

You and Draco are back at Malfoy Manor to celebrate the new year with his family, a tradition you have upheld ever since the two of you got together back at Hogwarts. While the atmosphere is pleasant, you feel yourself grow more tired with each passing minute. Excusing yourself for some fresh air, you slip away from the party. However, it isn’t long until you hear footsteps approaching, your boyfriend joining you.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look today, darling?” Draco murmurs, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as his hand runs over the silky fabric of your burgundy dress. You are leaning against the railing of the balcony, holding a glass of champagne in your hand as you stare into the distance. The sky is unusually clear tonight, no single cloud tainting the starry night sky. A perfect night to watch fireworks, you think.

A cool breeze brushes against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You glance over your shoulder to meet Draco’s ocean-blue eyes, instantly getting lost in their depth. Your lips curve into a subtle grin as you take in the sight of his slightly disheveled blonde hair, and you press a soft peck to his cheek. “About a million times.”

“Mmm. Let me kiss you properly,” he whispers, his voice low and seductive. His hands find your waist as he pulls you closer to him, firmly pressing you against his chest. Draco captures you in a kiss that feels different from those earlier today— slower yet hungrier, wanting.

His lips linger on yours for a moment, the world around you seemingly coming to a halt. It’s only when footsteps approach that you separate, clearing your throat as you take a step back to fix his tie. “So affectionate today. Champagne has gotten to you already?”

“No, just love you. You know me,” he replies smugly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you too,” you grin, shaking your head slightly. You grasp his hand then, leading him back inside to rejoin the celebrations.

During dinner, Draco’s hand rests on your thigh, wandering higher as the meal progresses. It’s when his thumb starts caressing the soft skin that you send him a warning glance, though the only reaction you receive is a smirk, unfazed by your silent protest.

Minutes before midnight, Draco takes your hand, leading you to your shared room. As soon as the door closes behind you, Draco lights the candles in the room with a flick of his wand, creating a cozy atmosphere. He then leads you to the bed, urging you to sit down on the silky bedsheets without speaking a word.

“Draco, what exactly—“ you begin, though his lips on yours cut you off. “Need to taste you. Now,” he replies huskily, getting on his knees before you, hands wandering up your bare legs until they reach the hem of your dress. “What about your parents?” you ask under a shaky breath, but he simply shakes his head. “Just open your legs for me and lay back. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter, reluctantly following his command, parting your legs to allow him access. Draco pushes the fabric of your dress higher, so it gathers around your hips, trailing soft, teasing kisses along your inner thigh until he reaches the lace of your underwear. You feel his hot breath against your skin, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. A soft whimper falls over your lips as he places a kiss on your clothed clit before he frees you of your panties, pulling them down your thighs in a swift motion.

Barely a second passes before his head disappears between your thighs, humming as his tongue swipes through your folds, collecting your arousal. “Taste so good. Have been dreaming of this all day long.”

“Mhm— Oh God—“ All worries have long vanished from your mind, replaced with pure bliss as his lips close around your puffy clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it. Your fingers dig into the sheets, moans echoing off the wall as your pleasure builds rapidly. “Shh. I know, I know. Gotta be quiet f’me though, okay?” He mumbles against your slick cunt before he delves back in, his hands maintaining a firm grip on your thighs, keeping them wide open for him.

It’s not long until Draco’s long, slender fingers nudge at your entrance, pushing inside of you. They curl upwards, massaging the one spot that has your body go rigid, hot pleasure coursing through your body while he sucks on your clit, teeth gently grazing over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck— please!” You whine, the knot in your stomach winding tighter and tighter as your walls flutter around his digits. “Mm. Can feel how much you want this. Let go for me, darling.”

And you are there—right at the edge, at least until you hear fireworks going off outside. You realize you are about to miss what you came here for in the first place – celebrating the new year with his parents.

“Dra-Draco we— we are going to—“ Your attempts to push his head off fail, and hot, white pleasure clouds your vision as you near your climax, trembling thighs squeezing shut around Draco’s head. “Fuck! I am going to—“

“Good girl. Come for me,” he encourages, the vibrations of his voice on your clit combined with his fingers pumping in and out of your warm walls have your back arching off the bed as you tip over the edge with a muffled cry. He doesn’t let up, working you through your orgasm with his tongue and fingers. Only when overstimulation has you squirming away from him does he slow down, withdrawing his soaked fingers from your cunt and licking them clean with a hum of approval.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Dialogue Tags

Dialogue tag (or speech tag) - a phrase that precedes, breaks up, or follows a bit of written dialogue and establishes who the speaker is and often how they are delivering the dialogue.

Properly Punctuating Dialogue

Here are the 3 most common ways to punctuate dialogue seen in literature:

Quotation marks. In English language literature, dialogue usually appears in quotation marks, as in the example above. If you put your dialogue in quotation marks, note that punctuation—like periods, exclamation points, and question marks—go inside the quotation marks. Also note that you should use a comma of a terminal punctuation mark when a piece of dialogue is part of a complete sentence including a dialogue tag. For example: “I’m going out to buy some milk,” she said or “Stop,” she said. “I already bought milk yesterday.”

Em-dashes. Some writers use an em-dash to notate a line of dialogue, like this: —What do you want for dinner? Jack asked his friend John.

No punctuation. Some writers don’t notate dialogue at all. For example, Nobel Prize-winning author José Saramago treats his dialogue just like the rest of the narration, like this: Jack asked his friend John, What do you want for dinner, and John replied, I don’t know, you decide.

Writing dialogue requires a good deal of information be communicated to help your readers understand who is saying what.

At the bare minimum, good use of dialogue tags keeps your reader from getting too disoriented or confused.

Some writers believe that "said is dead" and prefer to use more descriptive words or to put an adverb before the word “said.”

But generally speaking, you can write an entire short story or novel using only “said,” without having to resort to more descriptive verbs like “shouted,” “seethed,” or “consoled.”

Stephen King, whose famous opinion that “the road to hell is paved with adverbs,” finds them especially annoying in dialogue attribution. (Tags like “he said cheekily” drive him crazy.)

In suspense writing specifically, Angels and Demons author Dan Brown advises you to keep your language from jarring the reader out of the story. This means sticking to “he said” and “she said,” and keeping adverbs or other words for “said” to a minimum.

Are Dialogue Tags Always Necessary?

Not every piece of dialogue requires a tag.

If your reader can be reasonably expected to assume who is speaking, you don’t have to use dialogue tags.

This is especially true during lengths of ongoing back and forth dialogue between two characters.

Oftentimes quotes will follow one after the other, with a line break to denote a change in speaker.

Source ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Dialogue References

[caterkinnie]

I saw that your askbox was open. If i may, can you write a continuation of this ( Reader who cannot lie is put in an awkward situation...) with the rest of the dormleaders. It's so cute kasi eh. Also, can you include Rook, Sebek, and Jade in the place of Idia, Azul and Vil. Thx

Reader who cannot lie is put in an awkward situation...

❥ ⌗ Characters: Rook Hunt, Sebek Zigvolt, Jade Leech.

❥ ⌗ Tags: not really proofread. rook being silly. sebek being sebek. jade being cute<3

❥ ⌗ a/n: hiiiiii i started this blog when i was 15 and now im 18. crazy right???? happy new year!!!! sorry if its a bit awkward. its been a LONG time since I wrote for these characters.... tysm for your request!

Oh, it's Rook's fault this happened and he knows it.

You two were just having fun, he invited you to the forest just to walk around and relax. It was the sort of activity he'd love doing with you.

The two of you were completely alone, Rook loved to show you around his favorite hidden places, places that you imagine no one has seen before other than him….

And he was happy to do so, it was something you've done millions of times with him.

imagined he was hiding something, as his smile was a little bit too wide, his eyes were a little bit too mischievous. You knew when he was planning to mess up with you.

You were not expecting him to ask if you had a crush on anyone though.

“Eh?! What… Yes you do know him but…. ahh!! Yes, he's blond, why do you ask????”

He was giggling as he asked question after question…

What's his eye color? In what club is he? Is he from Pomefiore? How good is he as a hunter.

“Ah~ Mon cheri, don't get mad at me. I fear I know how you must be talking about… although, I imagine the feelings are reciprocated… Oh, such a beautiful expression you have!”

He has way too much fun with your quirk.

In this case, it wasn't directly to Sebek…

Lilia Vanrouge was extremely curious about you, as Sebek had never shown any interest in friendships with anyone. Let alone spending the amount of time he does with you, and even hesitating when he has to choose between aiding Malleus and having fun with you!

No one else had that effect on him, and you deep down knew it but… as a human, would he ever like you back? Would he feel ashamed to love you? Those questions plagued your mind, and stopped you from pursuing the kind hearted fae…

“What? If I like him…? ah… well… he's really sweet and- and…. Ah!!! Maybe a tiny bit but don't tell him!”

“AH?!?!?!”

And then you heard a loud scream of confusion from outside the door.

One you unfortunately recognized instantly.

Lilia chuckled as the door was bursted open, and Sebek was in front of you, his face was red… he wanted to say something… but something weird happened… He was at a loss for words!

You tried to explain yourself but…

“FOOLISH HUMAN! It's- it's bad manners to speak of someone behind their back! If….. If you wished to… If you wished to talk about those feelings, you must have told me directly, IF NOT THEN HOW COULD I PROPERLY COURT YOU?”

You were trying to impress Jade, but maybe you should have gone with a letter or some kind of book about fungi…

You've never cooked octopus before, and the cooking book wasn't helping at all either!

It seemed easy in theory… but you've tried it a million times and it still is not something you'd want to give to him!

He has really exquisite tastes! And if you mess it up maybe you'll mess this chance with him…

Or maybe you're overthinking.

Right as you were tried to finish the dish (which you were unsatisfied with the presentation and overall taste) you heard a chuckle from behind you.

“My, my… Are my eyes seeing this correctly? Who are you making this for?”

“...Of course it's for you.” No, dang it!

“And why, may I ask? what's the occasion?” His voice had a confused pitch, but his smirk gave it away. He was extremely amused by your attempts.

“....I though… maybe I could gift you this and then ask you out on a date….” No!! Why did you say that????

“...Fuhuhu… You're overcomplicating it… Maybe next time we can try to do it together? I can give you a few tips as well…. since it seems you've been trying for a few days, that is…”

He knew all of this time?!

Wait, is that a date?!

Reblogs are appreciated!

[orangeblossomsintheair]

HONEY YOU’RE FAMILIAR | MV33

summary : For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

wc : 5k

an : writing this to distract myself from my other wips? ..i would never.. 😦 also i wrote this at 12 am so let this not be a place of judgement :))

Max sometimes forgets how small Monaco is.

It’s easy to do when most of his memories of the place are a blur of fast cars and glittering parties. He spends most of his time racing through the streets during the Grand Prix or holed up in a hotel room overlooking the harbor, which feels more like a fortress than a home.

When you’re constantly traveling the world, hopping between paddocks and podiums, the compactness of Monaco barely registers. It’s a speck on the map, a gilded bubble he never really bothers to think about until it’s right in his face.

But sometimes, like tonight, he’s reminded.

Monaco isn’t a city, not really.

It’s a playground. A handful of streets strung together like a necklace, choked with Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and yachts so big they could be small countries. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone.

Or, at the very least, they know of everyone.

The millionaires gossip about the billionaires. The bartenders know who tips in cash and who never tips at all. Even the stray cats probably have dirt on the local royals.

It’s not just small in size. It’s tight.

Wealth wraps around this place like a noose, strangling it into exclusivity.

There are no dark corners to disappear into, no sprawling suburbs to lose yourself in.

Just a few restaurants, a few clubs, and a few streets where the same people circle each other like they’re on a carousel. If you’re here long enough, you’ll eventually run into everyone you’ve ever met.

Even the ones you’ve been trying to avoid.

Max doesn’t think about that when he walks into the bar.

He’s not in the mood for deep reflection or existential dread. He’s here because Daniel said he needed a drink, and when Daniel Ricciardo says you need a drink, you listen.

That’s how Max ends up at some overpriced lounge that smells like vodka and ambition, standing under soft, warm lighting that’s trying too hard to make the place feel classy instead of claustrophobic.

He’s nursing a beer, half-listening to Daniel tell some convoluted story about a failed date and a stolen Vespa, when he hears it.

A voice.

Your voice.

It’s the kind of thing that cuts through the noise without him even realizing why. It’s not loud or particularly distinct; it’s not like you’re screaming or making a scene. But it’s you. The way you talk, your cadence, the rise and fall of your words. It’s all so achingly familiar that it grabs him by the throat and yanks.

Max freezes. His drink doesn’t make it to his lips.

The years fall away in a blink, and suddenly, it’s like no time has passed.

He’s twenty-two again, still figuring out how to smile for cameras, while you’re draped over the back of his couch, talking absolute nonsense about whether or not the cars in Cars have insurance or not.

He doesn’t even realize he’s turned to look until he spots you.

You’re standing at the bar, laughing as you say something to the bartender. It’s loud, and Max can’t hear you properly, but he can feel you.

The way you lean casually on the counter, the tilt of your head, the way you wave your hand to punctuate whatever you’re saying. It’s so painfully, annoyingly you.

And God, you look good.

For a second, all he can do is stare. You haven’t seen him yet, thank God, because Max Verstappen does not know what the hell to do with himself right now.

You look different.

Not in a drastic way, just… grown.

Your edges are sharper, your presence more refined, like a photo that’s come into focus after years of being a little blurry. But the core of you is still the same. It’s in the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like the world isn’t slowly crumbling under the weight of climate change, billionaires, and whatever Kardashian family drama is brewing this week.

And suddenly, Max is thrown back years.

To a time when you were his person. The one he called when things went sideways, or when he won, or when he was just bored and needed someone to hear him rant about understeer.

You were his best friend.

No. The friend. The one. The only one who ever really got him. And then…Well, then he was an asshole.

He tries to tell himself that you two drifted apart.

People do that, right? It’s life. Except that’s a lie, and Max knows it. You didn’t drift; you held on like a freaking tow hook. You tried—texted him, called him, showed up to races, tried to remind him there was a world outside of 300 km/h and tire degradation.

Max doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. He’s not used to seeing ghosts in real life, and you might as well be one now.

Max debates his next move. He could just… not. Pretend he didn’t notice you. Slip out quietly, finish his drink somewhere else, and avoid whatever emotional grenade this is about to be. That would be the smart thing. The logical thing.

But Max has never been great at logic.

For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

But then you glance over your shoulder.

And your eyes lock.

He doesn’t have time to decide whether to stay or bolt

You see him.

And Max realizes he’s fucked.

For a split second, he thinks you might look away, maybe pretend you didn’t see him either.

He’s not sure if he’s hoping for that or dreading it. But then your face lights up, and the look you give him isn’t what he expects.

It’s warm. Familiar. Like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

His chest tightens. Max isn’t sure what he thought he’d see. Resentment, awkwardness, indifference, maybe.

But this? This disarms him completely.

You wave, and before he knows it, his feet are moving.

“Maxy,” you say as he approaches, your voice carrying that teasing lilt that could only ever be you. It knocks the breath out of him, so familiar and effortless it almost hurts. “Long time no see.”

Max freezes for the briefest of moments, the nickname hitting him like a slap and a hug all at once. Maxy. No one’s called him that in years. Not his family. Not his team. Not anyone.

No one except you.

“Yeah, uh, long time,” he manages, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture so awkwardly familiar it almost makes you laugh. He looks like he’s 17 again, shy and unsure.

Before either of you can say more, Daniel sidles up next to him, a beer in hand and an amused eyebrow raised as he glances between the two of you. “Know her?” Daniel asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.

“He does,” you reply smoothly before Max can fumble an answer. Your smirk is playful, but there’s no bite to it, just that same easy warmth Max hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. “I used to keep this one in line. Back when he was all awkward interviews and tragic haircuts.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, glancing at Max’s meticulously styled hair. “Tragic haircuts? Wait, this-” he gestures wildly at Max’s head, like it’s some architectural masterpiece “-is the improved version?”

You’re already laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in years.

He groans, dragging a hand over his face, though the corners of his mouth are betraying him with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters to Daniel, but his tone is far too soft to have any weight.

It’s stupid how easy this feels. How natural. Max isn’t used to easy anymore.

Daniel, bless him, is soaking it all in.

“So?” he says, giving Max a teasing nudge. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?”

“I was getting there,” Max grumbles, shooting him a half-hearted glare before looking at you. For a moment, he falters. He doesn’t know what to call you. Acquaintance feels too cold. Stranger would be a lie. And friend? That feels like stepping too far into a past he’s not sure he’s ready to face.

“An old friend,” you offer, saving him effortlessly, like you always did. “And you must be the famous Daniel Ricciardo.”

Daniel grins, full of boyish charm. “Guilty as charged,” he says, tipping his beer in a mock toast. “And let me just say, I already like you. Great taste in insults.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ricciardo,” you say, though your smirk says otherwise.

The three of you fall into an almost absurdly natural rhythm, as though you’ve all been doing this for years. Daniel’s effortless charisma bounces off your sharp wit, and Max finds himself smiling more in five minutes than he has in weeks.

Maybe months.

It’s like the weight on his shoulders has lifted, just for a moment, and he can breathe again.

You’re mid-story when he realizes he hasn’t felt this light in ages.

“So there I was,” you’re saying to Daniel, gesturing dramatically, “dragging Max out of his hotel room because he was refusing to face the world after a bad race.”

“I wasn’t refusing to face the world,” Max interjects, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You give him a look that could level a building. “You were lying on the floor eating Haribo like it was your last meal,” you say, deadpan. “It was tragic. Genuinely tragic.”

Daniel’s cackling now, nearly spilling his beer. “Please tell me there are photos of this.”

“Sadly, no,” you reply with mock disappointment. “But the image is burned into my brain forever. It was that bad.”

Max groans, shaking his head, though the grin tugging at his lips is impossible to hide. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”

“Because no one else could handle you,” you fire back, and it’s so quick, so natural, it makes his chest ache.

Daniel takes a step back, still laughing. “You two are too much,” he says, pointing at the two of you like you’ve just performed a comedy sketch. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t get too emotional without me, okay? I’m going to find another beer. Or maybe a Vespa to steal. Who knows?”

You watch him disappear into the crowd, still grinning. For a moment, the two of you are left standing there, and the noise of the party seems to fade just slightly.

“Daniel’s fun,” you say, breaking the silence.

“He is,” Max agrees.

When the music starts bumping up again, the two of you are faced with a whole other problem entirely.

“So, you’ve been busy!” you yell, leaning across the sticky bar top, your voice barely cutting through the bass thumping around you.

“What?” Max shouts back, leaning closer.

“I SAID, YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I’M SHOUTING!”

“WHAT?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, but he just smirks, clearly enjoying this.

So you double down.

“DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” you bellow, miming holding a glass.

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT DRINKS?” he shouts back, baffled.

“BECAUSE IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”

“WHAT?”

This back-and-forth nonsense goes on for an impressively ridiculous three minutes, the two of you getting progressively louder, until Max finally groans, shaking his head like he’s reached his limit.

He steps closer, leans in like he’s about to shout something else, then just presses a warm, steady hand to the small of your back. “Come on,” he says, not even bothering to raise his voice this time.

“What?” you yell, still committed to the bit.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts gently steering you toward the stairs, and you stumble a little, caught off guard by the unexpected physical contact.

“Where are we going?” you shout, craning your neck to look at him as you climb.

“UPSTAIRS!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I VALUE MY HEARING!” he fires back, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“OH, NOW YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HEARING?” you tease, but he ignores you, his hand still firm and insistent on your back as he guides you upstairs.

The VIP section is quieter, tucked away from the pulsating bass and the sweaty chaos of the main club floor. Max had slipped a word to a bouncer—who nodded in a way that made you roll your eyes—and now you’re here, sinking into the plush leather of a semi-circular booth with a ridiculous view of the dance floor below.

The second you step into the VIP area, the relative silence hits you like a warm blanket. You blink, adjusting to the sudden absence of aggressive EDM, and turn to Max, who looks much too smug for your liking.

“Smuggled into VIP like I’m some sort of black-market item,” you tease. “Careful, Verstappen. This is how egos start.”

“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.

“For what?” you shoot back. “The privilege of not getting tinnitus at 27?”

“Yes,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a nearby booth like he owns the place. “You’re lucky to know me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “My life has improved immeasurably since you dragged me up here. I’ll write a thank-you card.”

“Make sure it’s handwritten,” he quips, signaling a waiter for drinks. “And don’t skimp on the stationery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes but you’re smiling, and he knows it.

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, if you’re going to criticize, at least admit this is better than shouting at each other over terrible music.”

You glance around the room, all dark wood and dim lighting, where a few scattered people are having hushed conversations or staring down at the dance floor with an air of superiority. “Alright,” you admit, “it’s not terrible. But the crowd up here…”

You nod toward a guy at the next table wearing sunglasses, inside, and sipping champagne like it’s water. “Is this your scene now? Bottle service bros and indoor eyewear enthusiasts?”

Max glances at the guy, smirking. “Not my scene. But I figured you deserved something better than sticky floors and overpriced tequila shots.”

You laugh. “Wow. I feel so special. Nothing says friendship like a quiet room and a drink I can’t pronounce.”

“Admit it,” he says, leaning back again. “You love it.”

“I love judging it,” you correct, grinning. “Big difference.”

Max watches you for a moment, shaking his head with an almost fond expression. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you’ve changed too much,” you shoot back, gesturing at his ridiculously put-together outfit. “Look at you, Verstappen. Fancy haircut, custom clothes, actual social skills. Who are you?”

“First of all, the haircut is functional,” he retorts, mock offended. “Aerodynamics.”

“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want your hair slowing you down at 300 kph,” you say, pretending to be serious.

“It’s a real thing!” he insists, laughing now. “If you knew anything about racing-”

“If I knew anything about racing?” you interrupt, your voice rising in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I was there when you had to Google how to talk to the media without sounding like a robot. You think I don’t know the intricacies of racing, Maxy?”

“Don’t call me Maxy,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, I’m definitely calling you Maxy,” you say, delighted. “I might even get a custom T-shirt. ‘Maxy’s Biggest Fan.’ I’ll wear it to a race.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you do that, I’ll steal your phone and delete every embarrassing photo you’ve ever taken of me.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have backups,” you say smugly, sipping your drink.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment, the two of you fall into an easy silence, the noise of the club below fading into the background. You glance at Max, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle—a habit he’s had for as long as you can remember.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve bought since you became all… you know.”

“All what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say, waving a hand vaguely. “World Champion. Multi-millionaire. Guy who smuggles old friends into VIP sections.”

He chuckles. “Ridiculous? I don’t know… probably the private jet.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “The private jet is the least ridiculous thing about you, Verstappen. Try again.”

“Fine,” he says, thinking for a moment. “I bought a sauna for my house. Didn’t use it for six months.”

You burst out laughing. “A sauna? For what? Post-race existential crises?”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “It was a bad idea, okay? I thought it would be relaxing.”

“Did it come with, like, a tiny man who throws water on the rocks for you?” you ask, grinning.

“No, but now I kind of want one,” he admits, laughing.

“God, you’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head, but your tone is full of affection.

“And you’re jealous,” he fires back.

“Of your unused sauna?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m absolutely consumed with envy.”

The two of you dissolve into laughter and the conversation continues.

Next thing you know it’s 3 am and you and Max are stumbling out of the club, too giggly for both of your sakes.

Daniel had hopped on to another place hours ago so it’s just you and him.

The cool night air hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering up, it just makes you giggle harder.

Max freezes mid-stumble, his head lolling back like he’s auditioning for Les Mis on the world’s worst stage. “Why’s the air so aggressive?” he slurs. “Feels like it’s… pushing me. Rude.”

“Why’s the ground so spinny?” you counter, stumbling sideways into him.

“'Cause you’re bad at walking,” he accuses, latching onto your arm like a barnacle while swaying dramatically.

“You’re bad at walking,” you fire back, immediately tripping over a shadow and nearly eating pavement.

“You can’t even walk straight!” Max protests, laughing as he catches you before you faceplant.

His arm slides around your waist, steadying you in the most unsteady way possible.

“You’re the one spinning,” you argue, slurring every other word. “Maaaybe you should ju- just stay still for once in your life.”

“Oh, because you’re the expert,” he fires back, wheezing as you nearly trip again. “Where- where are you even staying at?”

You squint at him, trying to focus. “Uh… good question.”

Max stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean good question? How do you not know?”

“I don’t rememb- ber,” you admit, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Max groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just- what? Homeless now?”

“Homeless for the night,” you correct, wagging a finger at him like that somehow makes it better.

Max laughs so hard he has to pause, doubling over slightly. “How- how do you forget where you’re staying?”

“’S not my fault!” you defend yourself, leaning heavily against him. “The hotel has, like… a name! A boring one! And too many floors!”

Max groans so loudly it echoes off the buildings. “Oh my God. You’re homeless now. You’re a wandering drunk with no home.”

“I'm trying a new lifestyle,” you say, grinning. “Like… nomadic, y’know? Spiritual.”

“Yeah, okay, Buddha, let’s find you a real place to sleep before you start befriending rats,” he mutters, dragging you down the street.

“I like rats,” you say cheerfully. “They’re just misunderstood.”

“You’re misunderstood,” Max shoots back. “Come on. You’re crashing at my hotel. I can’t leave you out here to, like, adopt a possum or something.”

“I don’t wanna!” you whine, digging your heels into the ground.

“Tough!” Max barks, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you moving. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you’re not spooning a garbage can.”

You groan dramatically, slumping into him. “Maxxyyy, I’m tired. Can’t I just sleep on a bench or something?”

“Nooo. No benches. Benches are gross. You’ll get, like… pigeons on you.”

“Pigeons are my friends,” you declare solemnly, as if this is a hill you’re prepared to die on.

Max shakes his head, clearly trying to stay serious but failing miserably. “Okay, Dr. Dolittle, you’re not sleeping outside.”

You groan again, dragging your feet even as he starts pulling you along.

“Stop whining,” he slurs, swaying as he tries to walk in a straight line. “It’ll be like- like a sleepover! Like when we were five.”

“Sleepovers at five were better,” you mutter. “Less… you.”

“Excuse me?” Max stops, glaring at you like you’ve mortally offended him. “I’m the best sleepover buddy. I let you steal my Haribo once.”

“You hid the Haribo under your pillow!” you counter, poking him in the chest.

“’Cause you’re a thief!” he says, grinning as he pulls you toward the street corner.

“Am not,” you huff, pouting.

“Are too,” he replies, but his tone is teasing as he hails a cab.

When the cab pulls up, it feels like the world is tilted just enough that the ground might collapse under your feet at any moment. You both tumble into the backseat in a fit of giggles, your laughter echoing off the darkened streets.

It’s the kind of laughter that’s born of a little bit too much alcohol and a whole lot of absurdity. You could’ve sworn you heard a streetlight flicker in disbelief at the sound of your shared joy.

Max flops dramatically against you as if the very act of sitting upright requires more effort than it’s worth. His head lands squarely on your shoulder, and for a split second, you’re both tangled in the shared warmth of a really questionable decision. He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, and grins like a kid who just got away with stealing candy.

“You smell like tequila and poor decisions,” he mutters with a lazy drawl, his words slow but somehow still cutting through the haze of the night. He’s not wrong, but that’s kind of the point, right? His voice has that familiar, teasing edge, the one that used to drive you crazy when you were younger.

You’re already shaking your head before you even speak, the words spilling out with that characteristic smirk you know all too well. “You smell like someone who wore Axe in high school.”

Max’s eyes widen in mock outrage. “I did not!” He shoots up from your shoulder like you just insulted his very existence, but the motion sends him veering dangerously toward the cab door.

He catches himself at the last second, gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline.

By the time the cab pulls up to Max’s hotel, you're both deep into a discussion about whether Axe body spray could be classified as a biohazard in certain quantities. It’s a ridiculous debate, fueled by far too much tequila and a complete disregard for logic, but it’s the most fun either of you have had in ages.

Max is practically in tears from laughing, his snort-laugh echoing off the walls of the cab as he tries to argue that Axe is, in fact, a perfectly fine product, just poorly misunderstood by society.

The cab screeches to a halt, and Max stumbles out first, holding the door open for you with the kind of exaggerated flair you’d expect from someone who probably practices his dramatic entrances in front of a mirror.

As he pays the driver, his wallet slips from his hands not once, but twice, and he’s already apologizing profusely, his face flushed from the alcohol and his own clumsiness.

Finally, he gets the wallet sorted, tucks it back in his pocket, and reaches down to drag you out of the cab like you’re a piece of luggage.

You’re both barely standing, teetering back and forth on your feet as if gravity itself is conspiring to make the night even more ridiculous.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Max says, throwing his arm out grandly to gesture toward the hotel lobby like he’s unveiling the Louvre. The marble floors, polished to a shine, the sleek, understated furniture… none of it compares to the visual assault that is the ugly carpet underfoot.

“Your palace has really ugly carpet,” you mutter, laughing as you trip over the offending fabric, your feet not quite able to keep up with your brain’s idea of where they should go.

Max snorts, his hand steadying you as you almost face-plant into a particularly gaudy potted plant. “You’re banned from the palace,” he retorts, giving you a playful shove.

You recover, and together, you stagger toward the elevator, which, for some reason, feels like an obstacle course in itself.

The elevator doors open with a dramatic ding, and Max promptly starts jabbing the wrong floor button in a series of random, very confident moves.

Each one is a miss, but he keeps at it, as if this were somehow part of the plan.

You lean against the wall, your body shaking with laughter as you struggle to breathe through the giggles. “This is why they don’t let you operate machinery,” you manage to gasp, watching him fumble with the buttons in disbelief.

Max grumbles under his breath but finally, miraculously, hits the correct floor button. He turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “See? I told you. Genius.”

You raise an eyebrow, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Sure you are, buddy. A true mastermind.”

The elevator ride is a blur of jokes and half-baked insults as you both fight to keep your composure. Max leans against the wall with a smug look, clearly reveling in his victory over the elevator button.

When the doors finally open, you both stumble out, holding on to each other uselessly.

At the door to his room, Max proceeds to fumble with his key card in a way that can only be described as tragically incompetent. It’s like watching someone try to solve a Rubik’s Cube with one hand tied behind their back. The key card slips from his fingers twice, and each time, he lets out a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush.

“Jesus. You okay there, Einstein?” you tease, leaning casually against the wall and watching him drop the card once more. You can’t help but laugh. He’s making the simplest task look like an Olympic event.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice already tinged with frustration. “Technology’s hard.”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and Max stumbles inside with the grace of a rhino on roller skates. He turns to face you with a theatrical sigh. “There. I did it. Happy now?”

You’re already halfway to the bed, your shoes flying off in opposite directions, one ending up by the dresser and the other getting lodged under a chair. With a dramatic thud, you collapse onto the bed, your body sinking into the soft, luxurious comfort like it was the only thing holding you together.

“This bed is softer than my hopes and dreams,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the comforter as you stretch out like a starfish.

Max, predictably, flops down beside you with the subtlety of a sack of bricks, his arms and legs sprawling out in every direction. “Move over,” he grumbles, his face smooshed into the pillow.

“Nope,” you reply, barely lifting a finger to indicate where his side is. “Your side’s over there,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the edge of the bed, but it’s clear from the way your eyes are barely staying open that you’re not in any shape to play the “bedroom politics” game.

“Too bad,” Max grunts, grabbing your pillow from beneath your head and smushing it over his face. “This is a dictatorship, and I’m the dictator.”

“Goodnight, Haribo hoarder,” you slur, your words trailing off into nothing as sleep drags you under. The last thing you hear before you fully fade into unconsciousness is Max’s muffled laugh, and you can’t help but smile.

For a brief moment, it feels like nothing’s changed at all.

—-

Max’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything is blurry. He blinks a few times, the weight of his eyelids making it feel like he’s wading through molasses. A dull ache sits in the back of his skull, a reminder of the questionable choices he made the night before.

He groans, dry, scratchy, the kind of noise that only belongs to mornings where you regret both your life decisions and your snack choices. He’s still in his room. So far, so good. Nothing seems out of the ordinary... except for that persistent feeling in the air that something is off.

Max stretches, or at least tries to. His arms flail in an uncoordinated spasm, which results in a series of awkward grunts and a pop from his back that sounds like a joint trying to jump ship.

For a second, he considers staying perfectly still, hoping his body will remember how to function like a normal human.

But then—

There’s something warm beside him. Something... alive.

Max freezes, eyes snapping wide open. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to process what’s happening. The warmth next to him isn’t the soft comfort of a pillow.

It’s... a person.

A person in his bed.

What the actual hell? His brain goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind races through a thousand thoughts in a second, each one more ridiculous than the last. Did he... did he end up getting a stranger drunk last night? Did someone break into his room to cuddle with him? Did he... did he even get drunk himself?

Max’s eyes dart to his left, and it hits him like a freight train. There you are, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, your hair tousled and your face peaceful, completely unaware of his mounting panic.

For a moment, Max just stares, brain failing to catch up. How did this happen? His head starts swimming. His mouth goes dry. His first thought is that he’s dreaming..except, no. This is far too real. He’s not that lucky.

“I need to call Daniel..”

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

What are Team RWBY + P's reactions when Jaune has a nightmare or if he's sick

This is from 2019 everyone! I have some sickeningly old asks that I’ve never got around to writing… This is seriously so old that it still uses the old format to edit asks! I hope to fix the amount of asks I’ve let slip by me (for the past 5-6 years) a bit this year! I just need to keep the asks contained and not get carried away.

By the way, I never knew if the “+ P” meant Pyrrha or Penny so I’m finally just doing both, but these will be for them individually being shipped with Jaune, not a harem type situation.

Ruby Rose

Nightmare - Would softly crawl into bed next to him and hold his hand, not trying to startle him and just being there to comfort him if and when he wakes up

Sick - Gets him warm whole milk, their favorite video games to play together, and inspirational cat posters to cheer him up

Weiss Schnee

Nightmare - Will softly hum and softly sing for him and try to ease his fright/turmoil while he sleeps, while holding his hand or playing with his hair

Sick - Gets him the proper medicine he needs, and lots of it

Blake Belladonna

Nightmare - She doesn’t really know what to do while he’s asleep, so she just gently tries to wake him up and then help him calm down afterwards to get back to peaceful sleep that way. 

Sick - She knows how to make some good herbal teas to help his symptoms and keeps him supplied with them and other medicine he might need. Also she’s happy to read to him if he isn’t feeling well enough to do anything and is bored

Yang Xiao Long

Nightmare - Will just pull him into a cuddle hug and hold him tightly. If he wakes up from it, they can talk, but if not then she’ll just lay there, holding him and whispering comforting things to him. She’ll ask about it whenever he does wake up either way

Sick - Gets him warm whole milk, their favorite video games to play together, and turns up her jokes to eleven to try and cheer him up

Penny Polendina

Nightmare - She knows the signs of when to wake someone up or just to comfort them while they keep sleeping, so she always picks the right one to do for Jaune if he starts having a bad dream or a nightmare.

Sick - She will have his sickness analyzed and named in 20 minutes or less and gets him the medicine he needs along with properly measured out dosages

Pyrrha Nikos

Nightmare - She’ll wake him up because she gets scared for him, then runs her hand through his hair while holding him and letting him talk about the dream if he wants to, or just to whisper assurances to help them both calm back down

Sick - She does her absolute best to keep him comfortable and grabs whatever he needs or asks for, but she does need to be told not to kiss him several times by Jaune and others while he is sick.

[farfromstrange]

Pink Eye | Matt Murdock x Reader

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Summary: You start the new year with a bad case of conjunctivitis and a cold. As annoyed as you are about it, fortunately for you, you have a very doting boyfriend to take care of you.

Warnings: Cursing, sickness, fluff.

WC: 1.2k

A/n: This is totally self-indulgent, and my first fic after a month (or so)! Don't worry, you're still getting those other Fictober prompts, this is just something that came to my mind yesterday and I had to write it. I wish I had a Matt Murdock to take care of me, so I wrote this. I hope I'm not too rusty.

Read Me On AO3!

The cold compress seeps into the swollen skin of your eyelids, though it offers only a small reprieve from the ache and itchiness that make you want to claw your eyes out like a feral cat under attack.

Tissues lay strewn around the coffee table, each one soaked in tears and whatever else came out when you wiped them dry. The apartment reminds you more of the set of a bad chick-flick rather than a home. Most of the time it resembles a crime scene or a poorly supplied hospital when your risk-friendly boyfriend decides he just has to get himself into another fight for the greater good, but this New Year’s, the only casualty that came out of the holidays is you—defeated by your own immune system. 

You haven’t been properly sick in a year. For 366 days, you’ve been free of any viral or bacterial infections, and the one time you decide to have dinner with your family you end up with a nasty infection: conjunctivitis. Yes, you started the new year with fucking pink eye and a cold, and now you’re stuck at home for your last few days off work, feeling miserably sorry for yourself.

“Here,” Matt appears in your one functioning line of sight with a bowl of soup in hand, “You need to eat something.”

“Thank you,” you say through a congested nose, and he can’t help but smile at how adorable that sounds.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I want to put a finger into my eye and scratch it out.”

He raises his eyebrows. “So, not good?”

You shake your head. “I’m annoyed. And in pain. And I can’t fucking breathe!” As if to underline your frustration, your lungs constrict and you cough up a not-so-delicious ball of phlegm. 

Matt’s hand instantly moves to your back, rubbing gentle circles until the oxygen returns to where it needs to be. Your breathing becomes rapid before it slows down again, and you swallow.

“Fuck me,” you mumble.

“When you’re feeling better,” he retorts almost cheekily, but the joke doesn’t get much of a response. He knows how miserable you are. He can hear it in the way you breathe, your elevated heartbeat, and the pulsing of the skin around the infected eye. You wear your discomfort on your very sleeves. He doesn’t want to imagine what it feels like for you.

Instead of joking any more, Matt gently removes the compress from your eye. “Let me get you a new one,” he offers. Your first instinct is to cover up. It baffles him; you haven’t hidden from him in a very long time.

Matt takes your hand and places it back down in your lap, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Don’t do that.” 

“I look like I got into a fight,” you say.

At that, he reaches out, fingers gently brushing just above your brow, down your temple, and over the apple of your cheek. He can feel the heat radiating from your skin, the inflammation that’s causing your eye to swell, but the picture his fingertips paint is a stark contrast to your own description. 

“No, you don’t,” he says. And Matt knows better than anyone what one might look like after a fight.

His touch is so gentle, far away from where you’re hurting but close enough to feel his need to fix you. To heal you. To take your pain away and make it his own just so you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Your heart flutters like a newborn butterfly. You look into his hazel eyes, how soft they are, and it makes you melt. If you could only see yourself the way he sees you... The way he loves you seems like a gift from God himself. 

His touch disappears, and you bite back a pathetic whimper. “Be right back,” he says.

You watch as he rises to his feet and heads back to the kitchen, grabbing another cool compress from the fridge before returning to your side.

“There you go.” He places it against your eye and holds it there. “So you can eat.”

You want to say, ‘You’re doing too much’, but then you realize that you’re with the kind of man who would shoulder the world for you even when he’s already drowning to make sure life is just a little easier for you. And while that feels like entirely too much, more than you deserve, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him to stop. Not that he would do so, anyway. 

Every bone in your body aches, but the pain blurs in comparison to what he makes you feel. 

You take the bowl of soup he prepared and dig in. It’s your favorite, yet scarcely seasoned to not irritate your throat any further. When your stomach is finally full and he’s satisfied, he reaches for the bottle of eyedrops standing tall amongst the graveyard of tissues. He knows to think about everything when you can’t. 

“Lean back,” he instructs softly. 

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you protest. 

“I won’t. I know you hate doing this yourself. Now lean back.”

He’s even more stubborn when you’re sick, but only because you’re stubborn, too. You don’t protest further, simply leaning your head back to give him better access. 

Matt gently searches for your lower lid with his fingers, pulling it back ever so gently before squeezing the first drop in. Then, he moves on to the second eye. Your eyes instinctively squeeze shut at the sudden intrusion. It burns. Will it ever stop, you wonder? 

“I’m sorry,” he wipes away any excess tears threatening to escape, “it’ll get better in a second.” 

You huff a breath of disapproval, but not at his words. “I’m never visiting my family again unless they give me a detailed list of who’s sick,” you say. 

Matt stutters for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“I’m serious! Small children are little Petri dishes, carrying viruses and bacteria that continue to mutate into God knows what. Petri dishes, Matthew!” 

You sound so beside yourself, he can’t help himself. He adds the used tissue to the coffee table pile and pulls you into his arms, his laugh rumbling against the top of your head as he presses his lips against your heated scalp. “This is New York, sweetheart,” he says, “the entire city is a Petri dish.”

“And I will avoid it like the plague if I have to.”

He chuckles. “Okay.” A pause, and then, “You’re so much moodier when you’re sick.”

If you had the strength you would smack his pretty face for that statement alone, but you really, really don’t. You can barely sit up on your own. So, you nudge him with your elbow and grumble, “Shut up.”

With a bright smile on his face, he gives you another squeeze. “I love you too,” he says.

You squeeze his bicep three times to assure him that yes, you do love him, and you can’t help but think that perhaps being coddled in Matt Murdock’s arms while recovering from a little infection isn’t so bad, after all. It certainly could be worse. 

fluff tag list: @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler @mochie-is-a-librarian

[drenchedfireworks]

ELUCIEN | FAKE DATING MODERN AU

The one where Graysen cheating on Elain makes her want to extract revenge and her best friend is conveniently available.

Rated: 18+ (cuz smut) MDNI.

(I've been writing this for months and the difference between reading the smut I've written when I'm ovulating vs. when I'm not is just...enlightening.)

"L-Lucien!"

The groan in response had Elain throwing her head back as he lifted her legs over his shoulders, sinking deeper into her dripping cunt.

"Knew the bastard had never treated you right." Lucien was growling against her ear, pounding into Elain relentlessly as she pulled his face down to kiss him.

If someone had told Elain a few days back, hell, even a few hours back that she would be having the most soul-snatching and phenomenal sex with her best friend, she'd have laughed in their faces. Now, pinned underneath him as he drew out her sixth orgasm after she had already passed out twice in between, Elain wasn't so sure anymore.

Lucien had always been perfectly mannered and gentlemanly, never crossing any lines- not a single time in the six years Elain had known him. But as he held her down, whispering lewd comments and profanities under his breath, Elain wasn't sure she knew him at all.

All she did know was that, riding his face had been one of the most life-changing experiences she'd ever had. And she'd die if she never got to experience it again.

"Lucien...Lucien, I can't I can't I can't" Elain was sobbing as Lucien took her entire breast in his mouth, pulling her nipple taut in sync with reaching between them and rubbing her clit.

"Yes, love" He told her, pulling back to stare into her eyes as he slowed his pace to hit her deeper, draw out her orgasm longer before he reached down and sealed his lips to hers "You can."

Her moans were muffled as Lucien kissed her so hard it was like he was trying to drive her into the mattress while she clenched around him so tight, it was definitely painful if Lucien's answering groan was any indication as they came together.

Dazed and spent, Elain finally had breathing room as Lucien pulled himself off her but hovered above, leisurely kissing her as her fingers ran through his long hair that had come undone over the course of the night where they hadn't stopped in...4 hours.

It had all started as some petty revenge and Elain couldn't believe how far she had gone because of it. When she'd seen Graysen parading the girl he had cheated on her with around, openly and unabashedly, it had enraged Elain to the point that she'd actually flung some cutlery around.

It was two years of wasted effort and a deep sense of embarrassment that he had moved on, but she was still stuck in the humiliating loop of the entire ordeal. So, when her sisters suggested getting back at him in a way that was both effective and satisfactory, Elain had only one person in mind for it.

Graysen had hated Lucien's guts from the moment they'd met. Elain didn't know if it was because of Lucien's visible wealth or because of his evident pure-bred grooming. Whatever the case, he was perfect for it. But Elain hadn't been sure how to convince him of it.

When she'd finally gotten around to it, Lucien had all but laughed, agreeing almost immediately. It threw her off that he would be willing to go so far for her just for the sake of getting back at her ex.

But Lucien hadn't said a word, just rolled up his sleeves revealing those delicious forearms of his with the protruding veins, sat her down on his lap, those thick thighs making it hard for Elain to properly adjust herself on either side or smoothen down her skirt. He had handed her phone to her, guiding it towards the floor length mirror and helping her perfect the angle before his fingers ghosted under her shirt and he hid his face in the crook of her neck.

Elain's hands trembled as she took the picture, letting the phone cover her face but the entire setting was too intimate for two people who were just friends. She was positively delirious from the light touch of Lucien's warm fingers on her skin, his breath against her hair and his close proximity. She had taken a few more pictures before she gasped when Lucien's mouth connected with the side of her neck. It was a split second; one she didn't even properly register but Lucien was already plucking the phone out of her hand and swiping.

"I like this one" he told her, his warm breath fanning against her cheek as he showed her the last picture.

Elain let him post it.

It was safe to say, it broke the internet. She had only meant for him to post it as a story on his Instagram, but this man had gone ahead and shared that picture with all 760K followers of his.

A picture of Elain on his lap, face hidden by her phone as Lucien kissed her neck with a hand under her shirt had more than 150K likes.

It had taken Graysen less than a day to text her, a screenshot of Lucien's post attached to the message.

This is the best friend you told me to not to worry about?

Elain didn't bother deigning him with a response. Her mission was accomplished, and she felt a lot better.

So, why in God's good name could she not stop herself from coming up with absurd reasons to keep this farce going on for longer?

For Elain, that post wasn't anything. But for the world, Lucien belonged to one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country. Sure, his controlling father was dead, and no one mourned him, and Eris gave all his younger brothers much more leeway than they had ever gotten but for Lucien to be so generous for some petty scheme on her end... it made her question her entire friendship with the enigma that was Lucien Vanserra.

It didn't help that she had always been oddly drawn to him, attractive and unbearably sexy that he was. Always immaculately dressed and groomed, charming and so so mouth-wateringly handsome.

When she brought it up with her sisters; Feyre, who had been friends with Lucien even before Elain, shrugged "Did you ever entertain the idea that maybe he likes you?"

Elain had laughed but sobered up when neither Nesta nor Feyre joined "You can't be serious?"

But they were and like the previous time, prompted her to test the theory.

It felt weird not being able to ask Lucien outright what his intentions were. She'd always been able to talk to him about these things and it felt unsettling to tiptoe around him.

When she innocently asked if he would be up for a few more pictures (that she would post this time), Lucien had shrugged and agreed without giving it a single thought.

The next few weeks were spent posting all sorts of deceptive pictures on her very public account. A hand on her thigh that was recognized as Lucien's almost instantly because of his signet ring. One of a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Another of a candlelight dinner. Of two champagne glasses. A shot of them walking around holding hands.

Very quickly, not only had she started gaining followers by the thousands, but her Instagram feed was filled with pictures of her best friend parading her around like she was his girlfriend for real. All she'd done was explain how it bothered her that Graysen was engaged to the girl he had cheated on her with, and Lucien had taken care of the rest.

Her sisters would swoon whenever a new picture dropped, and her comment sections would be flooded. Her sisters were proving their theory right and to the world, they were an ideal couple. Privately, Lucien had best friend duties as he tried to make her ex eat dirt.

But she could read between the lines. Lucien had remembered her favorite flowers when Elain had probably mentioned them in passing once. The candlelight dinner was set up on a beach near the waters which was on Elain's bucket list. He hadn't stopped holding her hand on the entire walk. Lucien had not removed his hand from her thigh after she had taken the picture, he'd just left it there like she was his real girlfriend.

And Gods, with how good he had treated her, she wanted to be.

She just didn't know what to tell him. For Lucien, she was sure he was just dutifully fulfilling his responsibilities as a long-time best friend. She didn't know how to tell him she loved acting like he was her real boyfriend.

When Vassa's party came around and Elain spotted Graysen in the crowd heading towards her, she was sure she was going to be sick. Three seconds before Graysen reached her, an arm had encircled around her waist and pushed her flush against the side of a firm body.

"Graysen" Lucien had greeted, his smile conveying all the malice he felt.

"Lucien" Graysen returned, eyes immediately dropping to his arm around Elain's waist "Long time."

"Not long enough" Lucien had responded "How's the cheek?"

Elain fought to hide her smile, turning her head and burying it into Lucien's expensive three-piece suit when she remembered that Lucien had punched Graysen on Elain's behalf when they learned of his infidelity.

"I knew you were always jealous of me; you bastard" Graysen had spat at him from his place on the floor.

"Then you would know how this turn of events delights me"

At the time, Elain had assumed Lucien was talking about finally getting to punch Graysen, something he'd been offering to do for a long time every time she complained about her douchey boyfriend. As she recalled that and compared them with recent outcomes, she wasn't sure.

Before Graysen could get another word out, Lucien was already leading Elain away. With a start, she realized it was away from the party as they ascended the stairs together.

All for a show. All for a show. All for a show. All for a show. Elain repeatedly reminded herself.

"How far are you willing to take this, Elain?" Lucien asked, an amicable expression on his face to cover up the seriousness of what he was asking.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Elain realized he still believed she was doing everything, all of it, to one up her ex-boyfriend. But somewhere between her request and the first picture they'd taken, lines had blurred for her.

"Till he thinks death is a sweeter alternative to watching me with another man"

"In that case..." Lucien's voice drawled as he led her down the hallway till they were shrouded in darkness, far away from the party and any illumination the full moon was providing.

His head suddenly dipping too close to hers would have had her moving away but Lucien's grip on her waist tightened "He's right there, near the staircase. Watching"

Elain's breath caught as Lucien leaned in closer, grabbing the back of her head "Put your hands on my shoulders" When Elain did that, he instructed further "One hand near my..." He trailed off when Elain grabbed his nape, rising to her tiptoes and pressing her body flush against his.

"I get it" She whispered under her breath as Lucien changed positions, pushing her against the wall and trapping her in between the concrete and his body.

With the angle, Lucien's hands roaming all over her body as Elain rhythmically tightened and loosened her hold on his neck, it was hard to tell what exactly they were doing in the dark.

"Thank you" Elain finally whispered, looking up at him through her lashes, his face mere inches from hers "For going along with this and doing all of this for me despite knowing how silly it is"

Lucien didn't say anything. He watched her in a contemplative way, his gaze darkening when Elain's tongue peeked out to swipe against her lips as she continued watching him.

"Elain" He finally said.

"Yes?"

"Stop looking at me like that unless you want to really partake in what we're pretending to do here."

Elain didn't stop looking at him.

With a tortured groan, Lucien swept down and captured her lips with his, pressing her into the wall while simultaneously lifting her face for better access. Elain moaned at the feeling of his teeth nibbling on her lips before they parted for him, and she gasped when Lucien wasted no time in plunging his tongue into her mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her, so she was suspended in the air, legs wrapping around his trimmed waist as she met him stroke for stroke. Lucien released a deep groan in his throat when Elain bit his lip and then soothed it with her tongue.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers as they breathed heavily still staring at each other before Lucien pushed her against the wall again, claiming her lips once more, unable to stop his hands from exploring the expanse of her body.

Elain's hands were on his face, memorizing the smoothness of his cheeks and the curve of his jaw as she opened her mouth further for his intrusion.

When they pulled back a second time, Lucien's lips had latched onto the side of her neck, kissing the secret spot below her ear that made her dizzy and gasp against the sensation. Before Lucien's lips latched onto her again, she managed to ask.

"Is he gone?"

Lucien paused as if he had been doused with cold water and he immediately dropped her back onto her feet, pulling back and creating space that Elain was beginning to hate.

"I think so" Lucien noted the empty spot near the staircase while he simultaneously held his handkerchief out to Elain for her to wipe her lips with. She stared at the handkerchief incredulously before swatting his hand away.

"Don't give me that" She grit out, eyebrows furrowing at his closed off stance.

"He's gone so I think we're safe to go downstairs now" Lucien was saying, his face set in stone, so in contrast with how he had looked at her only moments ago.

Before he could make a move to leave, Elain was grabbing his arm and dragging him into one of the empty rooms in the hallway before slamming the door closed behind them and locking it.

She whirled at him, enraged that he still thought she was only using him "I only asked-" She grit out, advancing on him "Because I didn't want to give my cheater of an ex-boyfriend a front row seat to whatever we were doing"

"What were we doing, Elain?"

When Lucien didn't say anything else, just watched her, Elain took his hand in hers "What we did-" She paused when she realized not putting a name to it could upset him further "-Kissing you. That was of my own volition, not based on some inane need to flip the bird to my ex. I liked kissing you, Lucien. I..." She took a deep breath as she met his eyes "I like you."

When Lucien remained quiet and contemplative, with dawning horror Elain realized that maybe she was wrong, and he had only been doing everything out of the goodness of his heart. Springing this on him, oh God, she was cornering him.

She snatched her hand back from where she'd been gripping his as words tumbled out "But that's just me. I- I just wanted to tell you" She took a step back "It's probably because you've been so nice to me" Another step back "It'll go away in a while" She gave a pathetic laugh.

"Elain, where are you going?"

With a start, Elain noted the wood of the door grinding into her back. Before she could answer, however, Lucien's hand shot out and grabbed her arm before he pulled her against him once again.

"Don't think you can run away after saying all that."

"I- I wasn't...that's not what I was-"

"Say it again"

"What?"

"The part where you liked kissing me."

Elain's cheeks were tinted red as she avoided his eyes, fiddling with her fingers "I liked...kissing you."

"Why?"

"I... like you" She whispered.

"Elain, look at me."

"I can't!" She cried, the embarrassment at being so horribly wrong flooding over her.

When all attempts to get her to look at him failed, Lucien lowered himself to her height to finally look at her.

"I like you too, Elain. I like you a lot."

Elain's rising smile was smothered down by Lucien's lips on hers as he lifted her with an arm under her ass, making her squeal into his mouth as he walked them to the bed. He dropped Elain onto the mattress, watching her for a moment as she looked up at him with a flushed face and a glowing smile.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Elain nodded because he had. He had picked her up tonight and stood and stared when she'd opened the door wearing a tiny, red number with a modest neckline which was open at the back all the way down to her waistline. She had worn her highest heels and was still considerably shorter than Lucien, a fact she secretly loved.

As he advanced on her, Elain moved further back on the bed "Then let me tell you how you're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

"You're not so bad yourself" Elain quipped teasingly before she squealed as he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back down to the edge of the bed.

"Such a fucking tease" he told her between kisses as he shed his jacket and Elain's fingers worked on untying the knot of his tie.

When she finally managed to pry his shirt open, her mouth dried at the sight of his perfectly tanned and chiseled muscles, openly gaping at his washboard abs and the v-line disappearing into his pants.

"Like what you see?" He taunted making Elain push at his shoulders till their positions had reversed. With a single tug, Elain pulled her dress up and over her body, leaving her in her red, lacy lingerie.

"Good God"

Elain had never truly known what it was like to be the recipient of a look like that till Lucien had come along. He looked like he'd been wandering in the desert for far too long and just found an oasis. She was his oasis.

"Elain..."

"Lucien, if you don't kiss me right this-"

He was already tugging her down, turning them over as he pressed his entire length against her, drawing a shudder from Elain while he kissed her. He kissed her like he was trying to imprint himself on her. He was kissing her for all the times he couldn't.

Elain gasped when she felt his knee against her clothed pussy, rubbing circles that made her feel faint. She thought she could come from that sensation alone.

"Behave, Elain" Lucien chided, almost like he knew where her mind was at, his fingers roaming the expanse of her back as he unclasped her bra, kissing a path down the valley of her breasts and finally pulling the flimsy material away with his tongue.

Elain made an attempt at modesty but Lucien never let her arms reach down to cover herself. Pinning them above her head, Lucien's jaw tightened when he took in the perfect shape of her tits, the peaking nipples.

"You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

She didn't and she told him so. Lucien responded with reaching down and tugging at her breast with his teeth, making her back arch "Elain Archeron.." He soothed the sting with his tongue "You are every man's biggest desire and wettest dream. Do you know how much self-restraint I've had to exercise around you all these years?"

"Here I thought you were a gentleman" Elain lightly teased.

Lucien retorted by slapping her breast making her gasp "Walking around in those tiny clothes with that body, it's like you loved testing my limits. Last Friday, I almost bent you over the kitchen table"

That was partially Elain's doing. She had been testing a theory by walking around in the tiniest night shorts she owned with a camisole that was practically see-through. Lucien had shown no visible reaction except the occasional sigh but she'd assumed it was because she had subjected him to watching romcoms with her.

"You acted like you always did" Elain pouted in sham disappointment.

"I rubbed one out in your bathroom when you went to make more popcorn" Letting her arms go and taking each of her breasts in a palm, Lucien massaged them as he lowered his face again to lick a path up to her throat "Only to come back out and see you bent over the kitchen floor trying to do God knows what"

"I spilled-" Elain gasped when Lucien settled on her breast again, taking the entirety of it in his mouth "-soda"

"I don't fucking care, Elain. All I could think of was you in that exact same position, sitting on my face"

When Elain went quiet, Lucien pulled back to check her reaction, noting one of surprise.

"Fuck" Pulling himself off her, Lucien kneeled over her "Don't tell me Graysen never went down on you?"

"H-He had a thing.." Elain shrugged, arms automatically covering herself in a state of vulnerability "I just thought it applied to how most people felt about..y'know, oral"

Lucien didn't even wanna know if Graysen had made her go down on him. Grabbing her hand, Lucien pulled Elain upright before lowering himself onto the bed and pulling her over him. It was only when he grabbed her thighs and dragged her towards his face that Elain expressed alarm.

"You don't have to do anything just to one up Graysen"

"If I was on deathrow, eating you out would be my last request. Come here"

Clamping both his arms around her thighs, Lucien firmly planted her over his face, her soaked underwear the only barrier between his tongue and the place Lucien wanted it the most.

"You're soaked, baby" Every word against her pussy was a vibration that made her see stars.

Reaching up, Lucien tore her underwear, the sting making Elain gasp and pull on his hair.

"Lucien, I don't-"

With the first swipe of his tongue, Elain forgot what she was saying.

Lucien ate her out like she really was his last meal. He licked a clean swipe from the bottom to the top before capturing her clit between his teeth and tugging. Elain thought she'd black out as she cried out for him, her body bending over his head as she grabbed onto the sheets.

"Lucien!"

"I gotchu, baby" When he hit the spot, Elain's hips bucked forward but Lucien's arms around her firmly sat her back in place.

"You're going nowhere"

And he didn't let her. Not as she rode out her first orgasm, his name a prayer on her lips. Or as her second orgasm rolled into the first one, Elain going slump against him as he licked all of the juices leaking out of her, rolling her onto her back.

Elain's entire face was red, and she didn't think she had it in her to move an inch, but her hands moved up to free Lucien's hair from the band holding it together, pulling him toward her.

"I love your hair" She confessed.

"Yeah?" Elain tasted herself on his lips as Lucien tangled his tongue with hers.

"The volume makes me envious"

Lucien laughed between kisses, unhurried as he caressed her body, rubbing lazy circles on her clit making her eyes flutter and mouth fall open. When she sighed, her eyes barely open and lips swollen, Lucien was gone.

"You're driving me fucking crazy" He groaned against her throat, trying to relieve some of the tension in his pants by grinding against the mattress.

"Let me...help" Elain whispered, hands wandering low till Lucien grabbed onto them, pinning them above her head.

"As much as the thought of that delights me..." Lucien's belt snapping open sent shivers running down her spine "I've waited six years to have you, Elain. Don't make me hold back any longer"

Elain watched him lower his pants, boxer shorts following as she took in his erect length, her mouth drying up at the sheer size and girth "Gods, I want you"

"Say that again" Lucien ripped the wrapper off the condom with his teeth as Elain watched him roll it on with hawk eyes.

"I want you, Lucien Vanserra"

With a groan punctuated with her moan, Lucien sank into her, bracing an arm against the bed to steady himself. Elain's eyes rolled to the back of her head, teeth sinking into the cushion of her lip to hold herself back from screaming.

Lucien had never exercised self-restraint like he did as he waited for Elain to adjust, holding himself back from moving. He was trying to take it easy, make love to her and not fuck her raw and dirty like animals in heat. When Elain rolled her hips and tightened against him, Lucien was positive he'd died and gone to heaven.

"Lucien..." Even her breathy voice was enough to make him finish like a pubescent teenager "Please..."

He didn't need any more invitation as he intertwined their fingers, dug all his body weight into hers, sinking into her inviting warmth to the hilt and pulling out almost completely. Elain was delirious, eyes almost closing at the sensation before they shot open when Lucien hit that sweet spot inside her. The slow and deep strokes he was going for were torture, but Lucien vowed he wouldn't treat his first time with her like a quickie.

Till Elain dug her fingers deep into his scalp and connected their foreheads, speaking right over his lips "Now is not the time to be a gentleman, Lucien. Fuck me like you mean it"

It was like she flipped a switch in him. Something about the mean look in his eyes had Elain more aroused than ever.

When he pulled out completely, Elain whined. Both at the loss of him and his body heat. But Lucien just pulled her off the bed and pinned her over the vanity table.

"I wanted to do good by you, Elain" He lifted one of her legs on the table, stretching her in a way that he would never be strong enough to resist "But you test me every time. Watch" He lifted her face to the mirror in front of them as he sank into her from behind, Elain's head falling against his shoulder "Watch how good I fuck you, baby"

When he started moving against her at a pace much rougher and faster than before, Elain felt herself falling forward but Lucien grabbed her around her mid-section holding her up as she cried out for him, his other hand rubbing circles over her clit.

"Look at yourself, Elain" Lucien urged, grabbing her jaw and holding her face up.

In the middle of her hazy, foggy mind, Elain did register her flushed cheeks, her bruised but perky breasts, the multiple hickeys around her neck and she felt good about them. Lucien felt good. Towering behind her, holding her up with those strong forearms, he looked nothing short of a sex God as sweat glistened his tanned skin that contrasted against her pale one.

She had to take a long moment between his thrusts to actually find her voice "You-" She was already going to combust "You feel so good"

Flattening his fingers on her tongue, Lucien watched as Elain wrapped her tongue around it, panting and moaning, her eyes fluttering shut as Lucien massaged her breasts in tandem.

Her eyes flew open when Lucien delivered a sharp spank on her ass, sending her hips bucking into the edge of the dresser "Eyes on me when I fuck you, Elain"

When she finally neared her orgasm, chanting his name like a prayer he'd all but driven her up the dresser, her face smushed against the mirror with Lucien panting into her hair as he repeatedly hit her sweet spot and applied pressure on her clit.

When one orgasm rolled into another, Elain didn't know. She didn't have any recollection of how Lucien got her back on the bed either, just that he felt too good, and she never wanted him to stop.

Somewhere between her ass being in the air as he pounded ruthlessly into her from behind, holding her hands captive and going slow, edging her orgasm out for hours, Elain had already passed out twice. It was brief, she hadn't even realized it had happened till she awoke to Lucien between her legs, and she never wanted to wake up any other way again.

It was only after Lucien rolled off her that Elain turned to him, automatically resting her head against his bicep. It was funny how something as simple as her perfectly slotting against his side when Graysen and she had been awkward angled whenever they cuddled could make her this happy. That Lucien made her so happy.

"Tell me you like me again" She asked him when he turned to her, pulling her on top of him.

"I like you, Elain Archeron" he said immediately, without missing a beat "And I want to be your boyfriend. Officially"

"I don't know. It's not exactly easy filling that role. It comes with a lot of responsibilities and tasks that I'm not sure you're up to" Elain shrugged in sham pity.

"Are you being coy on purpose?" Lucien twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers, something about the mundane activity so intimate.

"Just letting you know what you're signing up for"

Lucien smiled as he leaned in for a kiss and saw Elain already moving towards him too "Don't worry, love. I have prior experience in that department"

"Really? And how was the feedback?" Elain asked between kisses, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You tell me" With that, he flipped her on her back.

____________________________________________________

[nellswitchly]

was gone from here for a long, long time but i need to show you guys a short hangster draft i made like months ago… and now i wanna actually properly write this…

“Quit looking at me like that.”

Shit. Jake knew exactly what Bradley meant, but as usual, hoped it would pass by unnoticed. Play dumb, he thought - in the dark of Seresin’s bedroom not much was noticeable anyway.

“Like what?”

“Like I just murdered your family.” he chuckled, but it sounded more like a snarl. “For a big, proud man you’re surprisingly sensitive, Seresin.”

This asshole.

“‘m not looking at you.” he was, but apparently not anymore, as he turned and sunk his face into the pillow.

“Good.” Jake could hear Bradshaw pick up his fuckass shirt from the floor, as the plastic buttons made a quiet sound. “Not like we’re boyfriends. You used to leave too.”

Suddenly, Jake’s eyebrows scrunched in a disoriented manner. Was he really starting this right now, in the middle of the night? He should probably ignore him and go to sleep. What he shouldn’t do is bite.

“Yeah? And why the fuck aren’t we? You only up for random fucking, Bradshaw? Didn’t take you for that much of a man whore.”

“God, quit it. You know why we’re not.” Jake looked back at him, but even if he didn’t, you could almost hear the eye roll. “This isn’t a high school sweethearts thing. Death is literally an everyday possibility with us. Besides, you know it’s never going to be the same for us here as it is for everyone else.”

“Oh, okay. So it’s just that.”

“What?”

“Mr. Can’t accept who he really is has made a comeback.”

To this moment their conversation felt like a ping pong match, as it usually did. But now for a few long seconds, there was absolute silence.

“Rich coming from you.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well. Like you were ever gonna hold my hand in front of our friends. Show me off and shit. Face it, Seresin. We’re bound to this bedroom. Sooner we accept that, sooner you can get me in it again.”

Jake clenched his jaw. No mature words came to mind as of now.

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, call me next time you wanna.”

Slam of the door, and then… silence. Once again. Complete, shattering silence.

[nemuka]

Protip for when you can’t write anything properly:

Open a new doc.

Pick a character. (Doesn’t have to be yours. Any character works.

Think of a silly thing they would do. Write a sentence of that. (Ex. “Muu ate 25 crepes in one sitting.”)

Then write whatever the fuck you want, just any words you think of, whatever bullshit, WRITE THAT SHIT DOWN.

Here’s what I made:

By now you’re either

A) thinking about what you just wrote

B) doesn’t really care.

If you’re on option B, go back to your original doc. Usually, by now, writing should be easier. If it doesn’t, try option A.

If you’re on option A, go below that paragraph and write a story out of it. IT DOES NOT NEED TO BE GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT NOR COHERENT. you can also change the details from what you’ve written before, but just write something based off that.

Example:

Now jsut write and write until you either get:

A) Bored

B) Entertained

For A, go back to your original doc and try writing again. It should work by now.

For B, continue to write this until you either get to A or write something that can be considered a chapter, before moving back to your important doc.

This always works for me so tell me if it does for you :D

[atleastpleasetelephone]

This is my first time ever requesting but I was wondering if you could write a story about walter hale x reader. Like reader dancing on stage and he watches from the crowd but gets turned on somehow and his to take care of it but gets caught by the reader and it goes from there. ��🙏🏻

Just what you need

A/N: Hi there anon! I'm very flattered to be the writer you asked for your first ever request! And I'm always overjoyed to have an excuse to write about Walter and spend some time thinking about that sexy smirk and that white suit... Anyway, I hope this story fits the bill. He got a bit more submissive than I was anticipating...

Pairing: Walter Hale x singer!reader

Word count: 3.8K

TWs: Smut, Walter is a little submissive, borderline a little foot stuff but it's mostly Walter liking her heels. Think that's it!

Walter saunters into the busy tent, looking around lazily. Your voice sounds great and the number of people here to watch you makes him glad he made the booking. He absolutely did it on the strength of your voice… and the length of your legs. They just seemed to go on forever and he thought they should be appreciated by the masses. He’s not a leg man particularly, but when you’d auditioned they were what was on display. Those legs, and your pretty little face. Right now you’re singing something French, and the way the words sound he has the urge to get a little closer. He weaves his way through the people, nodding and smiling at everyone he knows. Which is most people. He always tries to get to know as many people as possible everywhere he goes, being the sociable type but also believing that it’s good for business. He eventually gets to a couple of rows back and now he can see you properly. Your legs are shown off to great effect by the tight sequined dress you’re wearing, and not just that, the plunging neckline reveals you’ve got great tits too. Walter takes a deep drag on his cigar. The way you’re wiggling and singing the French words breathily into the mic is more than a little suggestive. He can feel something stirring below his waist and he rearranges quickly to make sure it’s not obvious. 

You finish the song and look out across the crowd as the applause ripples through it. Your eyes flick across a tent full of strangers and then alight on him. Mr Hale. The undeniably sexy man who booked you to do this job. You’re confident onstage but off it is a very different matter, and the way he’d looked at you had made you stumble over your words and blush deeply. It’s fairly dark in the tent so you can’t see him that well, but you could swear that the tables have been turned and he’s looking a little flushed himself. You bite your lip and start to sing the next song, another sultry number, trying to only look at him every so often to assess the effect you’re having on him. Sliding your hands down the mic stand and then back up again, your eyes flick over to him unbidden, and you see something that looks suspiciously like him fiddling with his belt. You sway your hips back and forth to the music, purring out another verse as one hand moves to your hair, digging into it, your head rolling around with your eyes closed in ecstasy. 

Walter’s brain short-circuits watching you, immediately imagining you on his bed, moaning as you close your eyes and move your head around like that on the pillow. His dick is achingly hard and he realises he can’t stay where he is any longer. Repeating the exercise from earlier, he starts to weave his way out of the crowd, smiling and greeting everyone again, his teeth clamped around his cigar. He has to get back to his tent and relieve himself. This is the most turned on he’s been for a while and he hates to waste it on his own hand, but he doesn’t know you and you’re supposed to be onstage for another half an hour. He can’t wait that long. 

Your eyes open again as you launch into the chorus, and you realise at once that he’s gone. Disappointment hits you like a freight train. You were enjoying winding him up, or at least thinking you were winding him up, and now he’s got… bored? You’re supposed to be onstage for another half an hour but you’re not sure what the point is when the most interested party in your audience has just left. The song finishes and there’s another wave of applause. You smile, the adoration washing over you and buoying you up. Okay, maybe this is the point. 

“Walter!”

Walter stops in his tracks, just outside the tent. He turns towards the owner of the voice, and sees the middle-aged wife of one of the town’s business owners, who he’d spent the best part of an hour chatting up yesterday afternoon. 

“Mrs Everly! How nice to see you again.”

It isn’t nice. It’s a pain in the ass, and one he intends to get away from as quickly as possible. 

The woman moves closer and grips his arm with her hand. “I simply must talk to you about my son.”

Walter tries his best to smile. This is the last thing he wants to talk about, although the previously urgent problem below his belt has now been reduced to a sort of background hum of need, and he reluctantly comes to the realisation that he’s strapped in to this conversation for the foreseeable future. 

“Of course,” he coos. “Lawrence, isn’t it?”

***

You’ve almost forgotten about Walter by the end of your set, people are throwing flowers onstage as they whoop and cheer. This is your biggest crowd by a long chalk and you’re proud of your performance and their response to it. You curtsey as best you can in your tight dress, and then make your way off the stage. As soon as you’re off it your mind drifts back to the man who got you this gig in the first place. You wonder where he is and how you can find him, at least to say thank you for the opportunity. And to see if he’s still blushing, a naughty part of your brain suggests. Okay, so maybe that too. Pulling on a big woollen cardigan to make yourself a little more decent, you wrap it around yourself and walk out of the back of the tent. Someone hands you a celebratory drink and you clink glasses with them cheerfully, wandering around through the Chautauqua, looking into various tents and at the people as they pass you by. You’re still a little giddy from your performance and the glass of fizzy wine is only making things rosier. 

Walter finally extracts himself from the conversation as the roar of the crowd from your tent reaches his ears. So much for not being able to wait. His dick is soft and it’s like his entire body has forgotten you, your long legs and sexy singing. He sighs, tossing the end of the cigar into the grass and crushing it under the heel of his boot. He wonders about trying to find you. You had been a surprising turn on. Adjusting his hat, he turns away from the tent, intending on just going back to his own living quarters again. He’s tired, and starting to think that it would still be easier to just stay on his own. As the years have passed, he’s found it harder to jump from girl to girl as he moves from town to town. He’s not sure why exactly, but the urge to touch himself and not have to answer to anyone else is winning out again. That is, until he takes a step and almost collides head first with you. 

“Oh! I’m sorry!” You exclaim. You hadn’t been looking where you were going, exactly, and you don’t realise who you’ve bumped into until you’ve already apologised. Your face colours quickly. 

“No need to apologise, darlin’.” He grins as he takes you in again, so much closer this time. “Thought ya were fantastic up there.”

Your blush deepens. “Thank you so much. I wanted to find you actually,” you tell him, your bravery growing. “To thank you for taking a chance on me.” Stepping forward, you get up onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. It’s his turn to blush a little. Your perfume is intoxicating and your lips are soft. 

As you land back down on your feet you find yourself grabbing his arm for balance. You don’t move back, so you’re incredibly close to him, and you find yourself staring at his handsome face unabashedly. He adjusts his hat again and thinks about the fact that he needs to adjust somewhere else too.

“No problem, darlin’. Ya had a full house in there, so looks like I made the right choice.”

The corners of your mouth twitch, teasingly. “You left before the end, though?”

“Ah,” he pauses, pushing a hand into the pocket of his waistcoat. Wishing he had another cigar right about now. “Have ta keep movin’ about, ya know? Can’t stay in one place playin’ favourites. Even if I do have favourites.” His head tilts to the side a little as he fixes you with a stare that makes you feel like your soul is about to leave your body. 

You step back slightly to allow space for you to lift your glass to your lips and take a sip. You end up draining it, thirstily. When you look back, there’s a slightly smug smile playing on his lips, as if he’s liking the effect he’s had on you. 

“Well I um… I really appreciate you coming at all.”

The smirk grows at your use of the word coming, and you suddenly realise and cover your mouth with your hand, giggling. 

“What’re ya gigglin’ about, darlin’?” He teases as he steps closer to you again, sliding his palm onto your back. You move your hand to his shoulder, almost without realising what you’re doing. 

“N-nothing,” you stutter, reddening again. 

“Oh. Nothin’.” He’s so close now you think he might kiss you, merriment making his eyes sparkle. Then just as suddenly as he’d drawn you towards him he lets you go, stepping away again and surveying the mess he’s made. You’re breathing hard, your face is beautifully flushed and your teeth have captured your lower lip and don’t seem like they want to give it up any time soon. “Let me find ya another drink, seens as ya’ve finished that one.”

You let him take you by the hand, leading you through the crowd as he looks for the nearest bar. There are people everywhere though, and he keeps getting waylaid. In the end he decides to give up on the bar and just take you back to his living quarters, where he knows he has something cold and fizzy, kept for just such an occasion. 

“I hope ya don’t mind,” he explains, as he pushes the door open. “Thought it would be a little easier ta talk here. Not so many people demandin’ my attention.”

You nod and let him lead you to a small sofa on one side of a little dining table. Once he’s got the cork out of the bottle and found some glasses he sits opposite you, pouring two drinks and staring into your eyes again as he clinks the glasses together and declares your performance a roaring success. You take a sip and smile and he takes his hat off and lays it on the table, running a hand through his thick black hair. 

“Hope ya don’t mind me makin’ myself comfortable, honey.”

The bubbles must’ve gone to your head, because you shrug off your cardigan and grin at him, telling him you don’t mind at all. His eyes almost pop out of his head, and he tries to calm himself down by taking off his own jacket. It doesn’t work. 

“You like my dress?” You ask, apparently still fuelled by the high of your performance and a glass and a half of wine. Leaning forward a little, you squeeze your arms against your breasts just enough to make them even more prominent than they were before. 

Walter finishes his glass in one gulp and stands up, moving round to your side of the table and sitting next to you on the couch. 

“I do, honey. I really, really do.”

His hands cup your face and his lips press gently against yours. You respond eagerly, tongue running over his plush, soft lips, begging for entrance to his mouth. He’s tempted to tease you, but his dick has taken over the thinking for him and so he opens his mouth, turning his head so he can explore yours with his tongue, hands never leaving the sides of your face. 

Your fingers reach for him, running up his thighs and starting to undo the buttons on his waistcoat. He pulls back. 

“You’re an eager little thing, ain’tcha?”

His hands move to rub up and down the tops of your arms, and your eyes drift down to his lap, where the outline of his dick is prominent. 

“I’m not the only one who’s eager,” you murmur in response, running a teasing finger over his clothed length. His breath hitches. 

“Well you’re so gorgeous, darlin’... wigglin’ away on the stage like that in this tight little dress…” his hands move to the hem of your dress, and he tries to push it up to your waist but only succeeds in bunching it up a little. “It’s enough to drive a man crazy…” those big, strong hands trail up your body, feeling the way you fill the dress out as he begins to kiss your neck. You can’t hold back a moan. “Though I think I might haveta get ya out of it now, so I can have what I want…”

His lips press kisses to your throat and your hands tangle in his hair in response. You wriggle forwards to let him reach behind you and unzip your dress, his head making its way between your breasts, kissing and nuzzling them as he pulls the dress down your shoulders, exposing your bra to him for the first time. He moves back to look properly and groans. Walter likes tits and yours are nowhere near a disappointment. Your chest is heaving and you try hard to get yourself back under control, standing up and peeling the rest of the dress off and letting it fall to the floor. He groans again, sure his dick is leaking when he sees the little wet patch on your panties. He forces himself to stand up, though he has the strangest urge to drop to his knees at the sight of you. 

“Is this what you want?” You breathe, feeling like there’s electricity in your veins. 

“Mmmm.” He kisses you again, his hands on your face as your fingers work overtime to get his waistcoat and shirt undone.

He pulls the sleeves off over his hands without stopping his exploration of your mouth, his clothes dropping to the floor as he grabs you, pulling you tightly against him. You make out for a while, hands all over each other, desperate for more but trying to enjoy the moment. As he steps back finally, a little breathless, the urge from earlier returns. He decides to indulge it, kneeling before you and sliding his hands onto your thighs, looking up as he mouths you through your already soaked panties. 

“Shit. Walter.”

“Feel good, honey?” He asks, his words buzzing against you. 

You nod dumbly, pleasure teasing you as he keeps licking through your thin little panties, teeth grazing your sensitive spots. You let out a little whine and his fingers loop through the waistband, pulling your underwear down at glacial speed, slowly revealing you to him. He eyes your pussy hungrily, abandoning your panties half way down your thighs. A firm lick to your clit has you whimpering, and he loves the sound. His thumbs hold your lips open as he continues his exploration, tongue lapping at your arousal. 

“Oh God.”

He looks up at your face again, your head thrown back as your hand rakes through your hair. That’s enough to convince him that you’re already close, and he pulls your panties down to your ankles, helping you step one foot out of them and slinging your leg up and over his shoulder. You squeak, your ass making contact with the table as you wobble from the effort of standing on one high-heeled foot. 

He moves his face just far back enough to tell you to hold onto his head and then buries himself between your thighs, his hands gripping the sides of your ass. You do as you’re told, starting off holding on gently, but as soon as you feel his tongue press inside your pussy you forget about handling him with care. You wobble, your leg shaking, and you find yourself falling backwards onto the table. A glass crashes to the floor. He grunts as you pull his hair, your hips bucking up into his face as he dives even deeper into you. One of your hands lets go to slam your palm against the table, so close to release now. Your leg wraps around his head forcing his face against your pussy as you rut against him, starting to whine desperately. He can’t breathe but he doesn’t care, just wanting to get you there. 

Finally your orgasm washes over you, making you clench your hands into fists and curl your toes, crying his name over and over again like a prayer. He thinks it might be the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. 

“Oh God,” you whimper again, as you finally let him go and he rocks back onto his heels, trying to get his breath back. “Are you okay?”

The urgency with which his dick is pressing against his pants is suggesting otherwise, but he just grins and tells you yes. You’re just starting to think about peeling yourself off the uncomfortable table when he stands up and rids himself of the rest of his clothing in record time. 

“Don’t go anywhere, darlin’,” he coos as he rubs his dick against your pussy. 

You barely have time to think, never mind try to go anywhere, before he’s pushing inside you. He’s hung and it hurts but you don’t care. You’re still dizzy from your orgasm, and you feel like you’re floating in space. He puts both of your ankles on his shoulders once he’s bottomed out, watching your face for his cue to move. You’d squeezed your eyes shut as he pushed inside, but they spring open now, full of lust. 

“You okay, darlin’?” He finds himself asking, despite his desperate urge to move, his lips finding your ankle bone and kissing there. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

Starting to thrust slowly, short, deep movements, he grips one calf in each hand. Your mouth falls open in ecstasy. He feels so good inside you don’t think you could speak right now if he begged you to. His eyes skate over your face and your breasts, still cocooned in your pretty lacey bra. 

“Take that off f’me, honey,” he murmurs, nodding at the final item of clothing. 

You struggle to reach behind you on the table, but you manage eventually, unclasping the bra and shrugging it off. He swallows, eyes hooded with lust. He can’t keep this slow pace up anymore, and he pulls almost all the way out to slam inside you with force, his eyes glued to your breasts as they bounce. 

“Oh!” You cry out in surprise. 

He grunts, repeating the movement again and again, feeling his release in the base of his dick now. Turning his head slightly, he licks from half way down your calf to your ankle, changing pace, his thrusts speeding up as he lets his tongue explore below your ankle bone, trailing along the soft leather of your shoe. The whole table shakes with his powerful thrusts, and you see the sweat standing out on his skin, feeling the way it sticks your skin together around the part where you’re joined. 

“Walter!” You can’t think of anything else to say, you don’t even know what you’re trying to convey as the pleasure tips you over the edge into senselessness. 

“Almost there, baby,” he moans, his thumb finding your clit in an attempt to coax another orgasm out of you. 

The feeling jolts you into the room and you find yourself climaxing again, softer and more gentle than the last time, but just as strong. 

“Oh GOD!”

His hands grab the tops of your thighs as your legs bend and fall off his shoulders, and he pulls you quickly towards him as he thrusts again. He pounds your pussy a few more times, and then he’s closer than he’d like to be inside a girl and he pulls out and cums hard and messily all over your belly. He holds the edge of the table for balance as his mind reels from the intensity of the pleasure. As soon as he can manage it, he bends down and rummages around in his clothes for his handkerchief, carefully wiping you clean with it. 

You sit up slowly and look around you, dazed. He smiles at you, taking one of your hands and using it to help you stand up. You groan. 

“Ow. My back…”

He rubs it gently with his other hand. 

“Sorry darlin’. Ya wanna go lie down in a real bed for a while? Let me kiss it better?”

You smile and nod. “I’d love to.”

He leads you through another door into his bedroom, pulling the bedclothes back and gesturing for you to get in first. You step out of your heels and slip between the soft clean sheets, and he gets in with you. He rolls you gently onto your side, facing away from him, and starts to kiss you from the nape of your neck down. You feel like your nerve endings are on fire, and every kiss has you trembling. 

“Mmmm. Walter.”

“Next time we’ll make love in the bed,” he mumbles against your skin. 

“Next time?”

He pauses, dragging his lips back up to your ear and letting you fall onto your back again. Looking down at you, his eyes full of concern. 

“Only if ya want, darlin’.” This might be the first time he’s ever been worried about a girl saying no.

“I’d love to. But… I need to keep singing to make a living and you’ll move on soon too…”

The words come out of his mouth before he has time to think about them. “Why don’tcha join the Chautauqua permanently? Travel with me?”

Your eyes go wide. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I’d love to.” 

He smiles, curling his body around yours and laying his head down on your chest. He’s never invited a girl to travel with him before, but something about this just feels right, and he sighs contentedly as he closes his eyes. He’s glad he took a chance on booking you for tonight. You’re just what the Chautauqua needs, and you might be just what he needs, too. 

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