#bed rotting before it was popular

[cottoncandyguro]

As someone who is entirely too old to be feeling like this again, I approve of the term “bed rotting”. Like, wow, someone put a name to it and it’s so perfect!

[presidentsdaughter]

trailer park trajectory

ft. jimmy x fem!reader

tags. daddy-daughter incest, smut, mention of vomit, mentions of pregnancy and abortion, anal, piv sex, creampie, daddy kink

note. not liking this but whatever who gaf! unedited per usual. feedback n rbs always appreciated :3

The year Jimmy spent with his high school girlfriend might’ve been the best year of his life. Man, he had it fucking cushty. He had a pierced ear and she had a bad boy fantasy, but Jimmy isn’t bad he is just a piece of fucking shit to be entirely honest. Columbine bad maybe. He’s sure any dentist would be delighted to drill the rot out of him, it goes deep.

She had lotion-smelling rich-girl skin and a velvet cunt, fit like a glove. All round and soft, shaped by a silver spoon. He liked her heated toilet and fluffy pillows and fuck-proof bed. He liked using her walk-in shower, body jets included, it felt nice to go to school not stinking of ammonia and wet dogs.

It was their senior year and he had never been particularly popular, maybe because of his shitty shoes and shittier attitude, but she liked him more than he ever liked her. He liked having something he couldn’t have. Jimmy liked that look on her dad’s face anytime he came over, somewhere between constipation and resignation. He had tried to talk it out with his daughter, but she was so hopelessly in love with Jimmy, stubbornly so, she seemed to take his flaws as a personal affront. It didn’t matter what clothes he wore, the bands he liked, his postcode—She loved him, trailer-trash scum and all.

Jimmy didn’t get it, but he wasn’t complaining.

Then she went and got knocked up. She spent prom night in the bathroom hacking up her guts. It was disgusting. She was disgusting; vomit caked around her pink mouth, face crumpled like a used tissue as she clung to the leg of that fancy tuxedo she got him. He couldn’t believe he had ever fucked her, wanted her, kissed her. 

Whether it was Jimmy’s or not it didn’t matter. She had something inside of her. He had fucked her and she had that thing growing, taking up space in her abdominal cavity like an alien parasite. He had fucked her and it was in there. At the time killing her crossed his mind, once or twice, thrice at the very most. Jimmy came over one day with a coat hanger and opioids from his mom’s makeshift pharmacy in the bathroom cabinet. He told her it was going to be okay, that she didn’t have to worry any longer. Unfortunately, that did not work out. She kicked and screamed and her parents came in and it was a big mess really. They found out with a little coaxing of course, as if the hanger wasn’t a big enough hint, and it was an even bigger mess really.

Paternal tests were taken so Jimmy couldn’t get out of it. He prayed every night to gods he didn’t even fucking believe in, took up Buddhism during the third trimester. Much to his dismay it wasn’t stillborn it was a fucking girl.

Before you were born, Curly had asked him several times if he was sure he wanted to be inside the delivery room. Obviously he fucking did not. Nobody wants to see their girlfriend’s fucking guts. No man should have to see a pussy that isn’t intact. But it felt like a dig at Jimmy, the implication being he wasn’t able to handle it.

(He threw up when he saw the epidural, passed out when she got split open in all the wrong ways.)

Her father pushed him out little by little, Jimmy was glad. Fresh out of the womb and you were living newborn life in circles Jimmy has never belonged, making connections with toddler oligarchs. You didn’t need him and he didn’t want you. What was the point of sticking around? Parenting is not his forte, children are not his niche, in fact Jimmy would prefer for them to be kept fifteen feet away from him at all times. They’re leeches - eat your food, drain your savings, complicate your sex life, and worst of all they cry.

Jimmy finds no point in pretending to be nice, but to you he is deliberately cruel. Precise like he is cutting into you with a scalpel, surgeon-steady hands tearing you a new one. He doesn’t think you remember what he told you growing up—I never wanted you, I never wanted you, I never wanted you—because your laughter is light like the world has never been cruel to you.

“You can’t even do this for me, James?” She is using his full name so he ignores her, but she continues looking at him expectantly, wanting something from his empty pockets.

After all these years, his ex has still got it, that’s what money can get you. Her tits are in the right place, high on her chest, like the two halves of an evenly sliced melon were stuffed down the front of her blouse. Her ass is tight courtesy of her newest doctor. It could’ve worked out if she had just got rid of you.

Jimmy is sitting at his dining table rolling cigarettes to light on the stove. The table is round and white like a giant bottle cap, foldable to make extra space inside his trailer. He eats breakfast, lunch and dinner here, there’s no room for two plates. There is no room for you here or anywhere, especially no room in his life.

“She’s not gonna like it here.” He shrugs, and he’s not wrong. You’re going to go running for the hills the minute you step foot in the trailer park. “I heard they got nice things to do in England for Christmas.” Jimmy doesn’t have a single clue on what goes down in England and whether they’re even that big on Christmas.

“There’s nice things to do everywhere, but you won’t be there.”

“Why does it matter if I’m there?” When has anybody ever wanted Jimmy to stick around for longer than absolutely necessary? When has she ever wanted him to stay? Everything was made clear to Jimmy when she decided to have you, she didn’t want him then so why does it matter now?

“Because you’re her dad? If I needed a babysitter I could drop her to Candy, but she’s an adult and she doesn’t need one, Jim.” All of her friends have stripper names, Jimmy had told her that once. “I am asking you to spend time with our daughter, your daughter just for a week and you can’t even do that for me?”

“She’s a big girl now, sure she can handle a week on her own.” Jimmy does not look up once, you’re simply not interesting to him.

Defeated, she lets out a laugh. It’s half-aborted and exhausted. “Fine. Fine. Whatever. She’s never going to speak to you again when she finds out about this, I’m serious.”

“Good,” Jimmy bites out, gritting his teeth so hard they feel as if they’ve come loose.

“Don’t say that, Jim.” The toilet flushes and Curly steps out of the bathroom wiping his hands on a tea towel. “You should let her come over, he’s spending Christmas at my place this year.”

Oh, fuck off.

Fucking Curly and his hard-on for good deeds.

“I didn’t know you were here, Curly.” Her eyes light up because Curly is the saviour of the masses, he is modern day Jesus fucking Christ and Jimmy is useless as tits on a nun. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude, it’s different if it’s just Jim, but…”

“Course not, kid’s like family to me.” He smiles, all bright and cheery, a burning ball of gas that is blinding and clearly noxious because he’s making Jimmy sick.

“That’s sweet.” She sighs, her voice taking on a dreamy tone, head tilted to the side as she smiles at Curly sweetly. Like she wants to fuck him. “You’re sweet. Thank you, I didn’t want to leave her alone, but dad’s going to be in hospital and I just need her to have fun, I mean it’s Christmas.”

“I get it.” Curly pats her on the shoulder, she side-hugs him and Jimmy watches like some sad sack of shit cuck. “See you soon, alright? You take care now.” He sees her off like a gentleman.

“If you want her so bad you take her.”

“Who, the kid or her?” He nudges Jimmy playfully. It’s a joke, but Jimmy does not take it as one. He knows that Curly is perfectly capable of doing both.

Jimmy scoffs. “The kid—She’s not a kid, y’know?”

Curly waves his hand dismissively. “C’mon, she is to me.” Swooping in like a saviour and he hasn’t even seen you since your sweet sixteenth. Curly doesn’t know that you zip around town in a shiny sports car now, it whizzes down the road like a bullet. He doesn’t know how you wear your hair, what clothes you wear, that you drink and smoke and fuck.

Jimmy knows.

“Are you kidding, she’s big as fuck, man.” Jimmy makes a motion with his hands, gesturing to his chest lewdly. “Like her mom.”

“Knock it off, Jim.”

“There’s no snow this year because of global warming, Uncle Curly.” You’re as dull-witted as ever this evening, helping yourself to the expensive wine you brought along. Nothing on your plate has been touched apart from a single grape and half a cracker. “The ice caps are melting, we should cut down on our meat consumption.”

Showed up at Curly’s doorstep decked out in your tightest cashmere sweater and smallest skirt, no holes in your stockings and one of those expensive scarves that don’t leave fibres all over the rest of your clothes. An American Girl doll all grown up, dabbling in cocaine and Saturday night DUIs, mouth painted red like a whore. He doesn’t know what part of you is him, that’s something to be glad about.

Jimmy looked through the peep-hole and double locked the door.

Curly let you in because of course he did.

“Is that so?” He’s such a phoney, pretending to care about what you say while he loads his plate with glazed ham, lamb and turkey. “Don’t know if I’ll be able to do that if I’m honest.”

“Everybody knows that, you don’t have to sound so interested.” It’s just a little bit ironic that they’re getting lectured at by a girl who’s luxury is polluting the ecosystem. Curly could cut down on meat and Jimmy could start cycling everywhere he goes but that still wouldn’t make a difference. Your million-dollar smile is shedding microplastics, and you have an arsenal of beauty products with enough chemicals to run a fucking meth lab, but sure Jimmy is supposed to pedal himself half to death and Curly is going to eat tofu till he gags all in the name of the environment that you are using as a playground.

“Jim.”

“Sorry,” says Jimmy, who is very unsorry. It’s less about remorse and more about keeping peace. He knows how Curly gets, that he likes to keep things rainbows and sunshine, he likes apologies. Treats them as a currency of sorts. “Weren’t you in Paris last week?”

“Yes, dad, I was really stressed out about finals.” Right. Right. Jet-setting is amazing for the planet of course. “Mental wellness is so important, that’s why mom still looks so young, she looks good, right?”

“Her doctor did great.”

“That’s not funny, dad.” You wag your manicured little finger at him. He wants to break it. The irony isn’t thick, it’s suffocating. Recycle, reuse, reduce all you want but somewhere in the world there’s a girl like you with a closet full of clothes you have worn once to show off online, taking last minute trips to tropical destinations for spa treatments you could get down the road. “You get it don’t you, Uncle Curly?”

“Oh yeah.” Curly smiles, blinding. “You only live once, gotta make the most of it.”

“Exactly!” Your chirp, leaning towards him as you smile, equally as blinding. “It’s a balance, you have to enjoy yourself in moderation and recycle.” Moderation says a girl who hasn’t worn the same pair of socks twice, a girl whose hands have never touched a vacuum, and neither have Jimmy’s but for different reasons. You’ve never had to. He’s just lazy. “Oh, you know, Uncle Curly, I thought you would be married by now.”

Sheepish, Curly shakes his head, messing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Not yet, not had any time really.”

“I think you’re a catch, Uncle Curly.” Little bit weird, but okay. Jimmy says nothing. “You have those big working-man hands.”

“Oh, I guess I do.” He laughs it off, but it’s taut, a faint tension in his square jaw.

“Yeah, they’re huge, Uncle Curly—Look!” You hold yours up, blinking at him expectantly to do the same, and Curly cannot say no. Not when it comes to Jimmy and not when it comes to you. “See!”

“I do.” Curly’s smile is doing its best not to fall.

“Mom always sets me up with, like, losers, I mean they don’t know how to do anything, I doubt they could screw a lightbulb in—I can’t screw a lightbulb in, but that’s not my job is it, Uncle Curly?”

“No, it’s not.” Your hands have intertwined, you’re giving him this smile that is making Curly uneasy, and Jimmy thinks for the first time that maybe you really are his.

“You turn forty next year, right?” You ask, a hidden intention behind your seemingly innocent question. Curly hums, nodding slowly. “We should get together if you don’t get a girlfriend by your birthday, Uncle Curly.”

Curly splutters, his words tangled in his throat, looking at Jimmy for help. “I don’t think—“

“No, really, I’m serious, Uncle Curly.” You squeeze his hand tightly, eyes sort of crazed. “I’ve got a thing for, like, blue-collar guys, and mom likes you and I mean your dad’s best friend so…” You’re a child who hasn’t been denied anything, you don’t know what limits are. “I just think it’s sexy, all that heavy-lifting and sweating, it’s so different.”

Jimmy snorts, the corner of his lip lifting in amusement. “You go right ahead, got my blessing for sure.”

“Jim,” he strains, jerking himself out of your grip, “I think you should get her home, had one too many drinks, didn’t you, sweetheart? It’s okay, happens to the best of us.”

“I’m fine actually, Uncle Curly, don’t worry about me—“

“Jim.”

Jimmy groans as he stretches, taking his time getting up and putting his boots on. “C’mon, we’re going home.”

“But dad—“ You’re pouting, that doesn’t work on him like it would your mother.

“We’re going home,” Jimmy tells you, making it clear there’s no room for any ands, ifs or buts.

“Are you going to murder me?” You blink rapidly as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. Jimmy’s rusty pick-up clunks and clanks down the narrow dirt path that leads home.

“Nah, not worth it.”

“Then why are you taking me here?” You take in the deconstructed metal structures, washing hung on lines that span the whole field. “This isn’t where you live is it, dad?”

See, this is why he used to babysit at your place. You’re a prissy piece of shit. He pulls up beside his trailer, undoing his seatbelt. Nails dig into his arm, you cling to him like you never have before. “Dad, I don’t want to sleep here!”

“Then sleep in the car.” Jimmy sighs deeply, inconvenienced by you like he has been his whole life, a faint vein throbbing in his forehead.

“Are you serious?” You hold onto him tighter. Fucking parasite. Ungrateful, good-for-nothing, la-di-da sorority girl. “What if get raped, dad? Do you want me to get raped, is that really what you want.”

Jimmy thinks on it, he smiles for the first time that night. “If it shuts you up, yes.”

“That’s awful! You’re awful!”

You end up following him inside, sniffling into the arm of his jacket and making little noises of disgust. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Will you be quiet?”

“I will, I swear, I won’t make a peep, dad.”

You do move a lot though so Jimmy traps you under his arm, it curls tight around your waist like a snake and you let out a soft whimper. “Stay still.”

“Sorry…” You whisper, and then you proceed to move again, the curve of your soft ass pressing against his crotch.

Women are either beautiful or not, and it might be bad to say—When has that ever stopped Jimmy before? You’re hot for a girl that’s supposed to be his daughter. Like Pornstar Barbie and Ken bumped plastic uglies to make you. It’s why he doesn’t fully believe it, you could be Curly’s for all he knows.

(The paternity test says otherwise. It says you are his. His baby, his parasite, his responsibility.)

“What are you trying, little girl?” Jimmy hisses in your ear, the hand on your waist slides up to grope your breast through the fabric of your silk nightie.

You don’t seem upset. Which is what a girl should be when her father touches her fucking tit. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Jimmy squeezes tighter, fat tit caged in by his fingers like netted meat. “You’re soaking your panties over some fucked up poverty fetish, you weird little bitch.” Just like your mom and her weird fucking trailer park princess fantasy. Look where that ended up. “What did you say to him? Working-man hands,” Jimmy recalls, and he can’t help but laugh, it’s so fucked up. What is wrong with rich girls? “Uncle Curly didn’t want to fuck you so you’re trying it out on your dad, hm? Is that what this is?”

“You’re my dad…” He thinks something normal is going to come out of your mouth for a split second, and then you say, “Of course you were my first choice.” Defying all expectations as usual.

“I never wanted you.”

“Do you want me now?” You take his hand and guide it between your thighs, his calloused hand gliding over your rich-girl skin. It feels like hers used to.

”No.” Jimmy cups your cunt, the heat coming through your panties.

“You do… I can feel you, dad.” You wriggle your ass, hard dick slotting perfectly between the two peachy cheeks. “You want me.”

“I don’t want you.” He’s never wanted you, and he won’t start now.

“Then why are you touching me?” You sound all smug, and he’s glad he can’t see your stupid face in the dark.

“Because.” You’re another hole to fuck, that can never do a guy any harm. Jimmy slides your panties to the side, two fingers on your stiff clit, rubbing it from side to side.

“I can feel you.” You whine in your whiny little voice, and he’s too taken by the faint sound of your squelching pussy soaking his fingers to be irritated.

“Yeah.” His breath comes out sharp, grinding his dick into your ass while he gets you off. “Dad started thinking about spoiled little pussies, think you could help him out?”

“If he asks nicely—Oh!” You yelp when Jimmy flattens you to the creaking bed.

This is what you wanted, so it’s what you’re going to get. No milky-soft, sappy rich boy shit. Jimmy isn’t going to kiss your ankles and tell you that you look beautiful tonight, he’s going to fuck you how you want to be fucked.

“Look at you, you’re asking for it.” Jimmy drags the neckline over the swell of your full breasts, they droop slightly when out of their confines and that’s how you know they’re real. Porn tits.

You nod, wide-eyed and pouty-lipped. “I’m asking for it, daddy.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck. Daddy? God, he doesn’t even like being dad let alone daddy.

Beneath him, you shift, spreading your legs as far as they go and reaching down to part your plump pussy lips with your pink nails, it’s so soaked your fingers slip when you try to spread your labia. “I need you right here, daddy.

Jimmy’s cock throbs. Hard as a diamond. He fumbles to take off his boxers. Whatever you’re doing to him, fucking around with his brain like the little parasite you are, it’s downright wrong. He’s going to fuck right through you. A silvery strand of pre trickles down the underside of his shaft, his dick twitches, balls tightening the longer he watches your soft cunt flutter around nothing.

With your ankles behind your head you’re infinitely prettier. You part your whore lips and whine, still spreading yourself open for him, this time with the addition of your cute, bleached asshole. It’s puffy and tight and he wonders if you’ve ever let anybody in.

“Slut.” Jimmy spits on your cunt, it’s unneeded, but this is how real men fuck. His spit dribbles down your crack, wetting your tighter hole. “Is this what you wanted?” He asks, voice low and rough as he drags the head of his cock up and down your slit, swiftly sinking into your tight cunt. A single, fluid thrust and he’s buried to the hilt, pussy sucking him in because you’re greedy.

“Yes, yes—Yes, daddy.” Your fingers tremble as you hold yourself open for him, bottom lip jutting out as a moan builds in your throat. “I wanted it so bad, daddy—Needed you.”

You get everything you want. Of course you do. Here he is giving it to you, eating out the palm of your hand. Jimmy can’t think when you tighten around him, sweating like he’s in a fucking sauna. His mind blanks, driving his hips forward like nothing else matters, the mattress nags at him with each thrust, creaking noisily. Stupid rich-girl cunt taking every inch without hesitation, wet and warm and so fucking tight he can’t breathe.

Somewhere between each frantic, feverish thrust of his dick, Jimmy slips out and the fat head presses to your asshole. You don’t say anything. That’s like giving him the go-ahead. So when you are too busy whimpering about the loss of his cock in your stretched little cunt, Jimmy breaches your ass, the head pops in no problem. You’re dirty. You’ve been used over and over. So many dicks before him even in your tightest hole.

“You’re a slut,” Jimmy mumbles into your neck, hips jerking forward, pushing against the resistance your hole puts up until he is sheathed inside of you.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You like it. You like the burn as he forces his way in, breaking open your asshole so no one else will ever want to use it.

“No you’re not.” All you do is take and take and take. Parasite. Spoiled. Stupid whore. He fucks into you, riled up by your fucking audacity. His daughter is a slut. All because he didn’t stick around, you had to rely on your incompetent airhead of a mother.

The fat tip of Jimmy’s dick pops out of your hole, you cry out, begging him to put it back in. Give it to me, dad. Please, daddy. I want it, daddy. Dad. Dad. Dad. I want it now. Daddy. You don’t even know how to say please, he doesn’t think you’ve ever had to say it.

“Shut up,” Jimmy groans, face strained like he has a terrible headache, “shut up.”

You pout, that’s all you know how to do. Want. Want. Want. You’re holding yourself open for him still, he can see your insides. Jimmy guides his cock back up, slapping it against the puffy rim, watching your hole wink at him. “Fuck me,” you demand, whinging at him, brown drawn together in a scowl that’s almost his.

“Do it yourself.” He levels you with his glare. “Slut,” he adds for good measure, “c’mon, work for it.”

You must be a natural because Jimmy knows you have never worked a single day in your life. The way you work his cock, lifting your hips up and humping upwards, taking him deeper each time, it drives him crazy.

Absent-mindedly, Jimmy’s fingers find your clit, eyes trained on your asshole stretching open around his shaft, his hips have started to move again. He can’t help himself. He does it better. Faster. Harder. Makes you cry, cheeks wet as you sob for him.

Daddy, daddy, daddy.

Jimmy hates it, but he tunes you out, pinching your clit so hard you wail and swear to fucking god the whole park must hear it. Your cunt gushes all over his hand, dripping into the cupped palm of his hand while he pounds into your ass, the slap of his balls on your skin getting louder the closer he gets to his high.

With a strained noise deep in the back of his throat, Jimmy’s dick gives a few last thrusts into your hole, the wet click, click, click of your throughly fucked asshole drives him nuts. He spills his load inside of you, it dribbles out when his cock slips out.

Jimmy flops down beside you. “I never wanted you,” he mumbles, hoping you know where he stands on your existence, still one of his hands finds itself rubbing your hip tenderly.

“You do now.” He almost misses the cheeky smile on your face in the dark. You’re clearly satisfied, preening and cuddling into his chest like you’re his girlfriend, tingling from head to toe, draping yourself over him like he is a trophy you’ve won.

“Go to bed.” He taps you sharply on the ass.

“Okay, daddy.” Jimmy feels you tracing hearts into his skin, soothing him to sleep. “I love you,” you say, pressing a kiss to his clavicle, you smell like your mom. Rich-girl skin. He pretends to be asleep.

[luveline]

wondering what zombie!au Steve might try to do for a sappy romantic surprise.. I feel like he’d get really excited about planning something intimate/small but really meaningful and tooth-rotting sweet.. maybe it’s for a birthday? or just for a spot of cheer?

Before the apocalypse, Steve was desperate to be loved. None of his girlfriends ever seemed that interested in more than sex or popularity, and if they were, they’d realise they wanted more than Steve soon after. He spent years wishing somebody would look at him and find exactly what they wanted. 

And you do. 

You look at him like he’s your everything (when you aren’t complaining, that is). “I’m gonna have to shave you myself,” you say, climbing into his lap, your hand tipping his head back less gently than you mean to, he’s sure. “That’s a wound.” 

“It’s a scratch. It’ll be fine tomorrow.” 

He grabs your waist, surprised but certainly not unhappy with your sudden presence. You’re straddling him. “Does it hurt?” You rub the area surrounding his raw skin. “Does that hurt?” 

“Not really.” He runs his hands up and down your sides. “What’s up?” 

You shrug. He leans back against the headboard as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “We finally have a bed again.” 

He pulls you in for a hug. “Yeah?” 

“It’s so nice. I missed this.” 

“I missed this too. Clean sheets, a door that locks…” 

You understand what he’s hinting at. He isn’t subtle, but he’s also in no rush, and you know that too. “Maybe you can give me a massage later,” you murmur. “We still have some of that nice lotion.” 

He loves that, the thought of you on your front as his hands push up your shoulders, your skin and his palms warmed by friction. “What about me?” he jokes, hands sliding up your back, tracing the path he’ll make later on. 

“You can have one too,” you say, your face dropping down to his neck, where you kiss him mildly, like you’re thinking of something else. 

Steve wants to give the gift to you before he forgets it. You can be a very distracting person, not just because he’d like to encourage your lips to his for a good kiss, or because you’re the perfect partner for hugging under the covers. Maybe it’s because he loves talking to you, about everything and anything at all.

“Hey, so.” He encourages your head back, his hand on the nape of your neck. “I have something for you.” 

“Do I have to get off of you?” you ask. 

“No, you can stay there.” He reaches into his pocket. 

“Wait, you’re smiling. Are you that excited to give it to me?” 

“Pretty excited.” 

You caress the inside of his elbow. 

It’s probably why you’re so easy to love. Not that you love him, but your propensity for sweetness, and the way you show your own affection. If he didn’t need both hands for this next part he’d twine your fingers together and hold yours all night long. 

He pulls a small plastic bag from his pocket to show you the contents, then changes his mind and opens the bag to take it out instead. “I know you were pretty happy that I found your necklace in my jacket, but I got it for you such a long time ago, I’m not saying you shouldn’t keep it. You should keep it.” 

“I don’t think I could get rid of it,” you say, honest and curious. “You gave it to me to make me feel better. Do you remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember. You had a frown like no one’s business for days.” He finds the charm and lays it over his hand. The chain is slightly tangled, but he can fix that. “There wasn’t a box, but. I don’t know, it reminded me of us, and you need an upgrade, I think I should ask you to get married–”

You smile in surprise, “What?” 

“But I can’t find a ring. So I have to promise to get you one, and you can have this for the interim.” It’s an incredible skinny chain joined by two hearts. Steve knows it’s cheesy, it’s insanely corny, whatever, he’s smiling like a loon. “I figure it’s me and you,” he says, putting it in your open palm. “Linked together.” 

Your gaze moves between him and the necklace slowly. “You want to marry me?” 

Steve curls your hand closed over the necklace. Gentle, he takes your face into both hands. “I get that I haven’t been the best boyfriend, but you can’t really think I don’t want that, right?” 

He’s really asking, but you don’t answer.

“I would’ve married you a long, long time ago, if things were different,” he says, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “I would’ve asked,” he corrects softly, before stealing another kiss. 

You press your screwed up fist to his chest as you kiss him back. 

“Who says we have to have rings?” you mumble. 

The idea of calling you his wife is insanity. It trips him up, flips his heart, but he thinks you deserve the real thing. As real as it can get, considering. 

“I’m gonna keep looking,” Steve says. 

The way your eyes soften as he rubs your cheek sets everything he’s saying to you in stone. Who else could he ever want to be looking at him like this beside you? How lucky he is that you’d bother. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Your face tilts down and he drops one hand, moving the other to just under your jaw, his pinky and marriage finger sewn behind your ear, middle and index on your cheek. He watches you and you turn your gift in your palm, waiting for you to lift your head.

“Thank you,” you say again. “Will you put it on me?” 

Steve strings it around your neck and clasps it at your chest before twisting it to sit properly. The new necklace is a bit shorter than your simple diamond. You could wear both without issue. 

You look down at them but can’t quite see them. “Does it look good?” 

“Yeah. Looks beautiful.” 

He wraps his arms around you again and looks up in to your face, chests coming together as he straightens his back and the gap between you closes just enough. You look down at him, your smile a mirror of his. Steve thinks being as in love with you as he is makes for its own kind of gift. Much better than a necklace, but he’ll keep trying to bridge the gap. 

He forgets everything else when you’re together. Everything. 

His face falls into your chest and collar against your necklaces. You press your face to his hair and cuddle him nicely. 

“Love you,” you both whisper at the same time. 

Your laugh tickles his scalp, warm breath in his hair. 

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

Hello! I'm so happy I found your blog! I like your story, the way you write it! And it’s so easy for me to imagine my OC with your story, because our OCs are a little similar, only my character is something like a god/demon of death, a little more cold and his pets are snakes))

Sooooo... Sorry for taking a lot of time with my character 😅 the request for headcanons is haulian x reader and how will Xie Lian and Hua Cheng react if the reader feels like the third wheel in their trio and become a little bit distant because want to give them some space? (I have the idea in my head that the reader is basically like your OC, i like him soooooo much)

Sorry if it's not clear, English is not my native language. And if you don't like the idea, just ignore it))

Closing The Distance

Hua Cheng x M!Reader x Xie Liam

I'm so happy you like my writing and I love to hear about your OC so don't worry. I'm happy our OC's are so similar 🥰🖤

I like writing stories with my headcanons soooo bare with me, bear with me???

____________________________________

You've been distant. Well you've never reached out to people before this either, but you're more distant than usual.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng noticed immediately.

How you start declining things, how you just sit to the side, you don't talk much, You let them sleep alone, eat dinner alone.

You stop being near them. The kisses you give dwindle down to nothing and the words "I love you" have been reserved.

They haven't a clue why. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have tried to think of every reasonable possibility but don't know why

Why would you want to be alone when it's supposed to be the three of you together?

It gets to the point where they have to visit you instead of the other way around. Paradise Manor, and Puqi shrine is all of your homes but you don't show up to either one anymore.

You're hiding away at your own place and they just don't know what to do

It really breaks Xie Lian's heart because you've been by his side all these years why do you want to leave now?

Hua Cheng is equally devastated. He would do anything for you and Xie Lian but you're pulling away.

The two can only think that maybe you just don't love them anymore, maybe you're tired of them?

You would never do that though

Xie Lian doesn't like it and neither does Hua Cheng. They intend to get to the bottom of it because they love you.

They would try to give you space but when it seems to only make it worse they don't stop bothering you

That's what it seems like you need, to be bothered.

Xie Lian keeps asking, and caring for you

Hua Cheng gets insecure. He knows he's good that Xie Lian loves him but do you? You aren't disgusted by him are you? Contrary to popular belief ghost kings get insecure too

************************************

You are pathetic, at least you feel like you are. Hiding away like a bug under a rock. You don't know when it started and you couldn't control it when it got out of hand. It's nothing against Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, you love them dearly. But the problem you have feels like a problem you can't even bring up. You don't want to hurt them.

Would you hurt them more by bringing it up or staying hidden?

So you've been... Lying here. Bed rotting. If you can even call it that. You're actually just lying under a rock. Very literally. You're hanging out in a small cave. It's nothing you aren't used to you used to do it with Xie Lian all the time.

You could've gone to the heavens and hidden up there but you don't have friends. You have Feng Xin, and Mu Qing but you know they would snitch on you if it came to Xie Lian. So here you are under a rock. Overthinking.

You always overthink, it's why you left in the first place. You also felt selfish. It's hard to see Xie Lian and Hua Cheng together. You love them both, honest! But what do they even need you for? They look perfect without you, like they were made to just have each other. You felt like you were getting in the way, or like a third wheel.

You know they love you too but... It feels so difficult to be included. When Hua Cheng first showed up he immediately was able to take Xie Lian's side and help him with missions. Which was fine you guys needed the extra help anyways but then you learned their pasts. They're just so intertwined with each other

Hua Cheng built temples for Xie Lian, released 3,000 lanterns, built statues, fought in war, challenged 33 gods, cut out his eye, and died 3 times for him, and broke his shackles! What could you possibly add to the relationship. No one could care for Xie Lian better than Hua Cheng.

Xie Lian saved Hua Cheng when he was a child, and stayed with Wu Ming. Gave him a coral pearl, and red string. What have you done?

All the heavens talk about is Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. The ghost realm is the same. You were never a prominent figure so people forget you're even there. They don't even know you're their lover too.

So yes it's hard, and maybe it's selfish that you want to feel more included when they already spoil you when anything you could ask for. Which is why you're hiding in a small, dumb cave. You eventually fall asleep to the pitter, patter of rain.

When you wake up you aren't under a rock anymore. You're in bed. In red sheets, in a red room, red, red, red. You're at paradise manor. You wouldn't mind that if you weren't actively avoiding your lovers. You sit straight up in bed and before you can tumble out Xie Lian is at your bedside. He's frowning and has this worried look in his eyes that makes you feel guilty.

"Where have you been, y/n?" You look away and shrug. "In the cave you found me in" your lips wobble a little. You don't know what to say. What excuse could you use this time? You pick at a loose piece of thread on the blanket and notice that Hua Cheng isn't in the room with you two. ". . . Where's San Lang?"

"A-Lang" Xie Lian interrupts you and his hand finds yours "You've always called him A-Lang"

You want to crinkle under his piercing gaze. "Where's A-Lang?" You whisper glancing back at the blanket.

"Standing outside the room. Baobei why have you been avoiding us?" Xie Lian turns your gaze back to him.

"I-I just was dealing with my own issues" Your hands fist in the blankets and your eyes get watery just thinking about how selfish you've been.

Xie Lian's hand caresses your cheek, "Our issues. We can help you if you tell us."

You bite your lips and bring your hand up trying to wipe your tears before they get the chance to stream down your face. "It's selfish" you spit, venom covers your tongue. "It was a pathetic reason, really. I just was overthinking and I felt like. . . A third wheel. It's not a big deal though" You glare at the blanket. Your anger of course isn't directed at them but at yourself. Xie Lian knows this too.

"A third wheel, how come?" He runs his fingers through your hair. Him and Hua Cheng have tried everything to include you so how could one feel left out?

"It's my own fault, I just don't feel like I have anything to add. I've nothing to offer. I've done nothing compared to you two" You're completely useless like always.

Xie Lian's questioning is interrupted when the door slams open. You both jump when Hua Cheng storms in and grabs a hold of your face. He would never hurt you, you all know this. "Nothing to offer? Just who are you talking about right now?" He frowns at you with furrowed brows. "I don't think we're seeing the same person." He doesn't let you divert your gaze keeping you there.

Hua Cheng knows what you're feeling, your insecurities stemming all from feeling useless. He knows how it is. "You have everything to offer and even if you didn't we would love you anyways. You don't have to add anything y/n, you can just be" he frowns and sits on the bed.

"I think you're going blind in your other eye. I really don't have anything" you blink away tears. "This one offers so much and he doesn't even know, he's done so much for the two of us and doesn't remember. Right gege?" Hua Cheng looks at his other husband for approval and Xie Lian nods.

"This one is a heavenly official. You have to work hard to become a god in the upper court" Xie Lian adds. You scoff though. "That's not what I'm talking about, I-I haven't done anything for the two of you"

Hua Cheng wants to shake you in a jar. "You have though!" Now he's yelling and Hua Cheng doesn't yell only when it comes to the two of you. "Who's rayed by Xie Lian all these years protecting him when I was lost? You did! Who took care of Hong er when Gege's other servants wouldn't dare touch him? You did. Who gave a mongrel child their family heirloom because he had sympathy and was kind? You did!" Hua Cheng holds your face in his hands still.

"You work so hard, and have gone through so much just like the rest of us and yet you still worry about others still!"

"every night this one takes care of us and helps Gege make dinner. Every day this one protects us, every day this one thinks of us and gives his best for us!"

Hua Cheng gives endless reasons small to large. You're crying in his hands and Hua Cheng wipes them away for you.

"No one is allowed to insult my lovers, even if they're doing it themselves" Hua Cheng finishes and kisses your forehead. Xie Lian is smiling and he kisses your forehead too.

"Don't run from us anymore, you can tell us what you're thinking anytime. Me and San Lang have no problem giving you the reassurance you need" he hums and joins you two in bed. All three of you cuddle for the rest of the night and the two practically suffocate you, not allowing you to leave bed. But you love them and would gladly lie here tangled in their limbs.

____________________________________

I hope y'all like it! Also ignore my grammar mistakes guys I always have some. 🖤

[k0mmari]

Okay people, I need to talk about IDOL!Shen Yuan AU before I explode (aka slight Aggretsuko inspired office au…..)

I’ll try to make this short for once jdvfhbjdhbvdf, but basically SY has been (forcefully) made to work for his brother(SJ) in the family company, after SJ decided enough was enough, and SY was going to do something with his life besides rotting away in his bed whether he liked it or not. The thing is, he wasn’t (just) rotting in bed reading atrocious novels, but he also took some time to experiment with music as a hobby, and over time, he grew a small following.

Though, after he was dragged to work at SJ’s side, the ever boring of dealing with paperwork and staring at white walls was eating at him. It’s not like he struggled doing his job, in fact, he was quite good at it, but he wasted no effort to make it very clear that he did not like that he was there in the first place. So, in an act of rebellion and to just do SOMETHING other than feel every passing second of the day in a cubicle, he decided to work even harder in his music hobby. It eventually led to SJ finding out and sparing no words to say that SY needed to focus on his real job, which only made SY brat out even harder, even managing to find an alternative music club and booking a few performances.

It went great! More people showed up than he expected, and all went great, but since his health was still not the best, after that he basically spent a whole month crashed out, not being able to do any more performances and barely able to go to the office once a week.

Anyways, it all led to SY thinking he had proved SJ right that he couldn’t continue this life style, and even thinking about quitting it, but one day while he was scrolling on the comments on one of his MVs (aka a Fancy Lyric Video), one of the comments mentioned that SY was one of the most important influences for that person, and that it inspired them to start pursuing music. It was the first time he had received a comment of that nature, and it lit the fire of his motivation back up.

Some 2 years passed, SJ still kept SY at the office, but SY had reached a nice balance on his online music work and performances on that club, and as his popularity grew, his performances at that one club had almost turned into a whole event for his most dedicated fans. So, enter Luo Binghe:

He was that comment that SY had read, and he did want to try music after being a fan of SY’s for almost three years now, but due to his financial situation he desperately needed some other source of income first. Now, at his last year of college, he managed to get an internship onto the Shen family’s company, which was a huge step forward towards his dreams, unfortunately he just had to go under SJ, which as we all know, was never kind to Binghe, instead acting as if the boy should just give up the internship entirely. And Binghe did think about it, but it seemed as if the stars had aligned for Binghe at least once, and SJ, after getting a sudden influx of work, delegated Binghe to SY.

They got on quite well, and Binghe even grew to have a little crush on SY, but it was all going fine and great until one fateful day. The office was as boring as ever, and after SY let Binghe know they wouldn’t have to entertain any clients for the day, Binghe decided to work on his part while listening to some music of his favorite artist.

Binghe has an awful habit of listening to music worryingly loud, so when SY went to get him to explain his new task, he ended up listening to what Binghe was hearing: his own music, in fact, his newest song. He pondered telling Binghe about the coincidence, but decided that maybe would be overstepping some professional boundary, and instead told Binghe about his one music club SY had heard about…

Binghe, excited to get to know more places around the area (and maybe understanding what SY did in his free time), decided to go to the club the next week after work, and did not even think about checking who would be performing in the day he would visit. Imagine his surprise when he gets to the door of the music club and hears some awfully famíliar music, and after rushing to be as close to the stage as possible, besides being blinded by his favorite artist’s greatness, also noticed that, hey, the artist looked an awful lot like a certain coworker of his….

Anyways, shenanigans ensue, Binghe starts his own investigation on SY possibly being the artist, SY juggling his office life, music career, and SJ perhaps coming to accept his brother’s career, and even maybe revealing a bit about his own past with music performances.

That’s all I had for today, just wanted to release this into the world! If anyone wants to expand on this, or try their on take on it, feel more than free to! Here are some more doodles of the usual day at the office :)

[unpunishablelamb]

hiiii!!!!! ও Im not sure if you still post creepypasta headcannons but I really liked the headcannons you gave the creepypastas, it's really nice to realistic headcannons, if you want I was wondering if you could do headcannons for the friendship of the reader and ticci Toby 0_o

(If I made any typos or used bad grammar I'm really sorry (◞‸◟ㆀ) )

Realistic Ticci Toby headcanons (SFW+NSFW)

A/N: Okeyy so for the friendship headcanons just ignore the NSFW part! I just decided to combine your ask with multiple anon asks who requested relationship/NSFW headcanons🫶🏻

SFW

-First of all he isn’t the one to settle down. He has a bad past with people and it’s incredibly hard for him to trust so he prefers not spending a lot of time at your place, if he ever goes there at all

-He’s basically homeless and probably squatting in abandoned places outside of smaller towns so if you ever want to spend a little more time with him it’s there or in the woods

-In contrary to popular belief i don’t think he is shy. He is very wary and kind of feral so physical touch is a hard one with him

-He is touch starved to some degree but then again he’s become so callous due to everything that has happened, that he won’t initiate or reciprocate for a long time. He won’t push you away either though

-I think if you ever share a bed/mattress with him, you might be woken up with a hatchet to your throat or a hand wrapped around it. At least in the first few months of your relationship, simply because he’s not used to having anyone around so he panics when he gets startled and his fight instincts kick in.

-Despite everything, i do think he’s very thoughtful once he warms up to you. I can imagine him leaving you things like rocks or trinkets he finds which remind him of you

-He’s really possessive no doubt. Hardly anyone has treated him with the smallest amount of kindness, and now that you’re in his life he won’t settle for less ever again.

-I can definitely see him being the type that wouldn’t let you get out of the relationship/ friendship alive in case you ever want to leave him. Either you stay with him or he kills you. Of course it would be hard for him to do since he “loves” you but the thought of you being with someone else, leaving him to rot, is much harder

NSFW

-I don’t think he’s had experiences before you which doesn’t make him shy but even more greedy

-I think it would take him a long time to trust you enough with something like that. He isn’t reckless or sleeps around but he wants to know that you won’t backstab him (literally)

-He knows how sex works, he’s not stupid and he’s watched campers in the woods do it, thinking they were being sneaky. Of course he couldn’t help imagining it was him and you

-Now that you conditioned him to get used to a certain degree of affection and physical touch he expects more, of course he does and you love him after all right?

-Let’s hope you’re ready to sleep with him when he wants you because i do think he’d pressure you into it

-I don’t think it’d be him getting physically violent but he’d try to make you feel bad for him, try to blackmail you, manipulate you etc.

-If that doesn’t work maybe he would wait until you’re asleep, start sliding his hand under your shirt and do his thing

-I think he’s decent in bed, clumsy at first and he’s so pent up that his pleasure is all he can think about at first.

-If you do criticise him make sure to be gentle about it, he’s insecure and he will get mad easily thinking you don’t want him but he does like you please you after all and he enjoys having you show him what you like

-Hickeys. Everywhere. Good luck trying to hide them because it will look ridiculous but he can’t help it. He has to make sure others know you’re not available

[sevs-corner]

Cont Idea on: Tf 141: Mafia AU!

(Brain rotting rn so lets get it out of my system)

So I realized how this may be similar to like a gang au but I wanted it to be more fancy with the crew (Tf 141) literally treating you as their unofficial-official sugar baby.

Walk with me in my insanity real quick— I can just imagine the unconditional love and care they’d give you and you being unable to say ‘no’ because, at first, all the things they give are things that you need like:

- clothes (branded btw) for the winter, or for any cold occasion because they notice how you rotate through the same apparels and are worried how you might shiver to death. They swear that they could hear your teeth chattering from the cashier despite the warmth the bakery exudes from the kitchen. Price, on more than one occasion, had willingly gave you his scarf (he brings extras in his cars once he started noticing it and gradually became a habit) and he could just melt at seeing you all snuggled up in his clothes.

- pots for your plants (you grow your own vegetables from veggie scraps). Gaz, when he dropped you off at your apartment one time, noticed how you used recycled stuff around your very dingy- yet homey- apartment. Right at the kitchen, where the one other window was present in your apartment (the other one was by your bed), he saw by the sill how you used plastic bottles for your tiny plants and how you used your old veggie scraps, making him want to provide for you even more— but he settles for something simple for now, and then gradually build up to that when you grow more comfy and closer together. <33

- fairy lights to decorate your room with (because they know you study + work late in the night) and Ghost notices this sometimes from how your bags seem so deep. While simultaneously working a day job, you admittedly said that you were also working to get an online degree for the arts, so you could help out Nonna and Nonno’s (italian for grandma and grandpa respectively) business and make it more popular.

( Notice how they grew more downbad with that admission hehe)

- Ghost knows your stubborn and hard working, and don’t usually bend or compromise on important things like that- so instead of forcing you to rest or leaving you be, he decided to give you lights to create a better ambiance for your mini desk workspace. “Hurts the eyes less,” he says as he handed you two boxes of it after your shift. He knows your constantly works in fluorescent lights and knows how that tires the eyes more (from experience), so he thinks this would help you both in studying and for sleeping. (Secretly hoping you’d think of him whenever you gaze at it.)

- surprisingly, Soap would give you bluetooth earphones, knowing how you would work and study with them in every opportunity that you can. Working on slow days, he first noticed you would look around at the front and back before whipping out from your pocket a phone that was wrapped with the earphone’s cord, a bright smile on your face as he sees you bop your head to the beats as you worked to clean or count money or help around at the front of the house. Though, he also notice how mixed up and messy you get in it, seeing you cuss under your breath makes him chuckle but also think of how he could fix that in his own little way. Luckily he had a “spare for his mate but he didn’t wan’ it,” he says to you after an event held at the bakery. It wasn’t like he was waiting for the moment he could catch you alone to see your eyes sparkle just for him only 🫢

Overtime you got used to their gift giving that by the time they were doing all these grandiose stuff for you, it was hard to say- “no,” and deny them from how puppied-look they get. You knew that Simon or Gaz barely gave you things (they’re more of a spend-quality time of love) so you had no choice but to accept (but also to see their grins and how they would snuggle you and pepper your face with soft kisses) As for Price and Soap, you knew they would be huffy and pouty so you decided to avoid that entirely when Gaz accidentally confessed one time that — because you put him into an irritable mood, he kind of skipped the interrogation part with a prisoner (betrayed them lol) and went straight to… execution.

Yeah… it wasn’t a pretty sight. Alternatively, their genuine laughs and smiles were so of course you’d prefer that! (And they too as well~)

OK THATS IT FOR NOW ADDING MORE LATER🫶

[aurianavaloria]

KoH - To Rival Eden (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Split (Baldwin - Fem!Reader)

Length: Short (<4k words)

TW: Vague mentions of leprosy

A/N: Well, here we have it, the much-anticipated sequel to "What Good May Come"! I took your feedback into account regarding Y/N's preferences, as well as circumstances and relationships, and created another chapter in this little romance. As in the previous story, I've done my best to keep Y/N as generic as possible with a personality that seemed to fit what is currently popular. I hope you enjoy it as much as the first, and once again, thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

Baldwin could hardly believe his good fortune.

Tiberias had spoken truth: she loved him.

He hadn’t slept a wink that night after she left his chambers. Had barely paid attention to his physicians’ work as he’d given his failing body to their care for the hundred-thousandth time in his short life. Whilst his mortal shell continued its slow and endless march towards inevitable disintegration, his heart and mind were soaring above the clouds, his spirit filled with a fire he hadn’t felt in years.

Lady Y/N loved him.

He lay in his bed, eyes staring up into the canopy’s shadows, yet unseeing of anything that was actually there. Instead, he saw her sitting before him as she had that evening, the smile dancing across her lips, the color in her cheek…

Thus lost in his thoughts, all he had to do was close his eyes to still feel her warmth in his arms, the touch of her hand upon his own… still smell the sweet perfume that cloaked her in its allure. Even as his fears screamed at him that every moment he spent near her was a risk he was selfish to take, that the poison coursing through his veins could destroy her like some fetid rot devouring a perfect flower, all he desired was to hold her again… to imagine what her hair would feel like slipping between his silk-gloved fingers…

These visions of her swirled in his mind all night long and into the next week, until he thought he might go mad with them. He had never thought much of the songs of the troubadours before, dismissing their melodramatic lyrics as nothing more than mere fantasy.

But now he had tasted that very pain of love of which they sang, and he knew they were right.

Love was insanity.

Unfortunately, it was an insanity he had to endure through nearly a week’s worth of increasingly-numerous duties that forbade his interaction with anyone other than his advisors and court petitioners. Conversation on such matters proved his only respite, for when he was finally left alone once more, she haunted the depths of his mind.

And as his quill slowly glided through the practiced motions of his signature upon his latest letter, his aching heart wondered if he haunted hers the same way…

He hoped and prayed she had not taken offense to his exclusion of visitors outside his immediate council. It was all such ill-timing, and yet the administration of his kingdom could not wait for courtship. He could not afford the distraction of anyone else’s presence amidst such delicate matters, and there were some things that he refused to delegate to others.

That he could not trust to others.

The thoughts of sharing those tasks with a queen he truly loved and adored above all else, however…

Plunk!

He abruptly sat back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut.

That was it. It was time for some fresh air.

Rising slowly to his feet, he reached for his hooded cloak where it hung nearby. Without even being asked, his servant Ihsan wordlessly appeared from the shadows to help him don it, moving with quiet grace.

“Shall I accompany His Majesty?” the Christian Syrian asked, aiding Baldwin in pulling the hood over his head. Jerusalem’s sun was bright today, and harsh on the ill king’s eyes.

“No, I shall walk alone, I think.”

“As you wish, sire.”

And loyal Ihsan melted into those shadows once more, as quickly as he had emerged.

With that, Baldwin began making his way to the palace gardens, keeping his pace measured as he followed the long halls, close to the wall should he need it for support. Alas, his numbed foot would allow for nothing else. Yet, even so, he didn’t wish for this stroll to be a hurried one, crammed in between the endless sessions of his work. He needed time to center himself – to clear his mind and ease his heart.

His hood low over his mask, he still squinted against the sun as he emerged into the palace gardens. The strength of its rays had only seemed to intensify in recent years, even as their warmth had faded; his body hardly felt it, now, beaming down upon him, as if he had already hovered between the land of the living and the dead. But his eyes most certainly did, and he kept his head dipped low, his mask half-shadowed by the hood of his cloak.

Anyone else who had chosen to wander the gardens the same as he soon found themselves departing, as usual. The king was instantly recognizable, even cloaked like this, his presence garnering immediate notice by his courtiers. Their dread of his disease they always attempted to cover with pretense – the courtesy of yielding the space to their liege-lord as they offered deep bows and curtseys. Yet they always slipped away with the hiss of whispers swirling in their wake…

His lips twisted in amusement at the thought that his experience behind a mask had made it easier to see past theirs.

Thus, he largely ignored them as they bestowed upon him their customary greetings, their well-rehearsed gestures of obeisance. And the answers he gave in reply were just as superficial. They deserved nothing more. Little by little, they left as he slowly made his way along those meandering paths, bordered by every plant native to these lands, flowering or not…

All but one.

At the end of one of the paths, perched upon a bench before a towering hedge, was Lady Y/N.

She sat with a small book open in her lap, her garb a simple green bliaut with a matching embroidered belt. A brilliant white veil over her hair, pinned to the barbette that looped beneath her chin, shielded her downturned face from the sun. Even from this angle, he could see the slight smile that played across her lips, and he felt his own mimic the expression beneath his mask.

The sight of her thus made him pause his stride, and he considered backtracking to the previous fork in the path and leaving her to her peace. Yet another part of him desired nothing more than to speak to her – to self-indulgently converse, even if only briefly, with this sweet angel of a woman he’d neglected for the sake of his divinely-mandated duty.

What resulted then, was an indecisive hovering, a prolonged pause at the bells of the lovely flowers that brushed his silken sleeve – blossoms whose aroma was now all but lost to his dulled senses. But none of the velvet-petaled jewels gracing this paradise of a garden now compared to the one he could not tear his eyes from, yet hadn’t the heart to approach…

================

Jerusalem’s palace garden was a sanctuary as peaceful as the cloister of any church you’d seen and perhaps twice as beautiful. The open air was filled with the scent of the exotic flowers that had been meticulously cultivated there, surrounding visitors in an alluring embrace. The cool shade beneath the towering hedgerows and elegant palms had been too tempting to resist, and, with a new book of poetry in hand, you’d made a beeline for an empty bench in the farthest shadowed nook you could find.

Gardens such as these were haunts for lovers, or so you’d been told. Some had even been designed in such a manner that encouraged clandestine trysts – a convenient niche here, a cleverly-planted bush there…

Alas, there were no such surreptitious visits in your near future. No, you’d merely come to the gardens this day for some fresh air and relative peace and quiet.

It was with great eagerness that you had rushed to the bench, sweeping your skirts beneath you and opening the book upon your lap. It was a loan, in fact, from Sibylla; the princess had been spending more time with you in the past week, indulging in light conversation mostly revolving around scholarly interests and pastimes. During the course of one of these discussions, she mentioned having received a few books from France and, quite unexpectedly, asked if you would like to borrow one of them.

Such a generous offer had been impossible to refuse, and your eyes had lit up as the princess passed you the small, leather-bound book of poetry, which you handled with utmost care.

The plan was to spend an upcoming evening sharing what the two of you had enjoyed most about the tomes over refreshments.

It was something you rather looked forward to.

Now, you were fully immersed in the book, your eyes drinking in the copyist’s hand as it swirled across the delicate vellum pages; it was a work of art in and of itself, to say nothing of the words it held within. So engrossed were you that, for a long moment, you failed to notice you were being watched…

But then, suddenly, a slight movement from the periphery of your vision caused you to glance up, and for a brief second, you thought you saw an angel. You quickly realized, however, that it was not.

The awestruck smile that tugged at your lips was perhaps a bit uncouth, but you couldn’t help it. Angel he was not, and yet the king was still radiant enough that you wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see a pair of wings upon his back or a fiery halo ringing his head. The hooded cloak he wore, trimmed in gold, was such a blinding white in the midday sun that it almost blurred his outline, and the half-concealed silver mask with its perfectly-chiseled countenance could easily be mistaken for the face of a saint…

“Your Majesty!”

On reflex, you stood, abandoning the book on the bench before starting to dip into a curtsey, but the upwards flash of his gloved hand stopped you mid-movement.

“I require no epithets or courtesies from you, Lady Y/N,” he replied as he wandered down the path towards you. “I should hope that I may abandon such performance in your presence.”

The warmth in his voice heated your cheeks. “Very well… Baldwin.” This was only the second time you’d dared to speak his name without a title preceding it, and it felt oddly right on your tongue. “If that is the case, then I must also insist that I am simply Y/N.”

His hooded head dipped. “Of course. Y/N.”

Something about the way he said your name made your heart flutter, and you glanced away briefly even as you sidled nearer to him. “It is good to see you again. Baldwin. You are well, I hope?”

“I am now,” he replied softly. Now you could look up into his silver-clad face and see the glitter of his eyes beneath the shadow of his hood. In their impossibly-blue gaze you found a softness that belied the sharpness of their hue.

“I… missed you,” you breathed at last, your voice lowering. “I must admit, I’ve worried for you. Lord Tiberias assured me all was well, but… well, you’ll forgive me for being a bit distrusting.”

A low chuckle emanated from him. “If there is anyone you may trust with his honest assessment of matters, it is Tiberias.”

A chuckle of your own escaped you in response to his jesting remark before he continued in a far more serious tone, “I must offer you my sincerest apologies, Y/N – here you’ve given me the most beautiful gift anyone has ever bestowed upon me, and I’ve done nothing but neglect you in return. Already, I fear I must seem a poor partner in courtship.”

Your mouth opened a little in shock at that. “Absolutely nothing of the sort! I understand you are busy. I know you wouldn’t have isolated yourself like this otherwise.” A light smile played upon your lips as you met his eyes again. “I’m just glad to see you again now.”

It was then you reached forth, brushing his nearest forearm lightly in reassurance. The damask silk of his sleeve was so very soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. And warm. Though from his body heat or the sun, it was difficult to tell…

Suddenly, another movement out of the corner of your eye had you glancing past the king at a visitor on the garden path: a small tabby cat – silver with stripes of black – trotting along the hedgerow towards you.

“Oh, look!”

You pointed, and Baldwin half-turned to follow your gesture, another quiet chuckle following once he realized what had caught your attention. “Ah, a palace mouser, I see. Either that or a street cat has managed to breach the walls.”

His choice of words elicited a light laugh from you. “Perhaps he is a scout, then. Come to assess our defenses.”

The two of you watched as the cat slowed a few paces away, looking up at the both of you.

“Mrow?”

It was a questioning little sound the tomcat made as he hunkered close, sniffing first at the toe of Baldwin’s shoe before doing the same at the hem of your skirt. For a moment he merely stood there, his banded tail a waving S in the air as he continued to take in king and lady with shining green eyes.

“Mrrp.”

A quiet trill followed as the cat proceeded to bump up against your shin, tail curling about as he wound his way behind you before bumping against Baldwin’s calf in the same manner. He paused, staring upwards, and then he repeated the pattern, his path creating an infinity knot around both your feet.

“Aww, I think the darling wants attention,” you cooed, bending at the waist towards the little feline as you held out your hand. You were rewarded with another bump up against your palm, whereupon you happily scratched behind the cat’s ears, a grin plastered to your face.

“I would greet him as he wishes,” Baldwin remarked beside you, “but I fear I’d lose balance and keep going.”

You glanced up at him. “Well… we can’t have His Majesty tumbling face-first into the roses, can we?”

“No, I do believe that would tarnish my reputation for being upright.”

A snort escaped you at that. Baldwin’s sense of humor never ceased to amaze you – that he could find humor at all amidst his terrible suffering was a testament to his fortitude.

Confident that the cat was comfortable with you, you then reached for him, moving to pick him up, which he allowed with surprising ease. Palace mouser indeed, and obviously used to human company; you were certain no street cat would allow such familiar handling so soon…

“Oh, look, he has little gloves, like you.”

Your observation of the cat’s stark white mittens, curled as they were overtop your arm, had Baldwin chuckling lightly once more, and he nodded in reply, his own gloved hand slowly approaching. “So he does. Alas, I fear his bear weapons mine do not.”

He paused long enough for the cat to sniff again at his fingers – which he did – before gently stroking the top of the creature’s head between his ears. Almost immediately, a rumbling purr emanated from the feline’s throat, his eyes half-closing. Despite the near tentativeness of Baldwin’s movements, the cat seemed quite satisfied with the attention, though a part of you wondered how much the king himself gleaned from it…

“Can you feel that?” you heard yourself ask.

“Barely,” was the quiet reply, a lengthy pause following before he withdrew and added, “I relish moments like these while I can. There will come a day when I shall feel nothing with these diseased hands, glove or not.”

His words shot like an arrow straight to your heart. As much as you both tried to ignore it, to look past it, the truth of the matter was that Baldwin was slowly being eaten alive from the inside out, and it was only a matter of time before it utterly consumed him. Just this simple encounter with a sweet palace cat was enough to bring reality crashing down around both your ears.

And you hated it.

Swallowing, you cleared your throat and then bent to set the curious feline back on his feet. “Let’s let our intrepid little friend here continue on his way now, to do the noble work his kind has been mandated to do, yes?”

Once released, you gave the cat one final pat on his head and he was off, trotting away down the path before promptly disappearing under a bush.

“Y/N?”

The softness of your name upon Baldwin’s lips suddenly brought your attention back to him, and then there was his hand on your cheek, cupping your face gently as his eyes searched yours. You could feel the concern in their depths, his gaze probing your own for answers. No doubt he sensed the shift in your mood – you never had been the best at keeping your emotions hidden…

“I wish I could do more for you,” you whispered before he could ask. “I wish I could… I wish…”

There were so many things that you wished. You wished for him to be healthy again. You wished you could lift the many burdens from his shoulders. You wished you could rid his court of the treacherous vultures just waiting for his final breath to tear apart the corpse of his dream. You wished you could send his enemies running for their lives beyond the desert sands. Alas, you could do none of that.

But you could do this…

Without a word, you swiftly closed what gap was left between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Instantly, he stiffened, his hands clamping to your shoulders on reflex, their grip tighter than you anticipated.

“Y/N…”

“Hush!” you hissed, interrupting any warning he felt impelled to give you. “Let me do this… let me do it, and let yourself have it!”

You could feel him tremble in your arms, his breathing uneven. For a harrowing moment, he was naught but a statue, indecisive – no-doubt waging a war in his own mind, if you knew him by now as well as you thought you did…

Whichever side flew the banners of Propriety and Precaution, though, evidently lost the battle, as a shaky sigh escaped him at last, a quivering hiss of breath between the lips of his mask.

“God forgive me.”

And then, in a move that made your heart flutter wildly again, his own arms slid around you, pulling you into him and shrouding you in sun-soaked silk. The pungent scent of herbal salves alongside crisp linen followed, piercing past the exotic fragrances of the garden flowers, although you detected the distinct note of roses rising amidst it all – perhaps from the oils the physicians applied to soothe his ravaged flesh. He cocooned you in this warmth, the hardness of his mask as it rested atop of your head a sharp contrast to the softness of the rest of him. And thus he held you tight, tighter than you had expected him to, your ear pressed to his chest where you heard the quickened thumping of his heart.

For one blessed moment, nothing else existed. Perhaps he was an angel after all, just awaiting the wings set aside for him in Heaven. For here he held you in earthly Paradise amidst a garden to rival Eden, shining bright as the light of the sun that enveloped you both in its purifying rays, and you knew peace…

You heard the raggedness in his breath, however. The unsteadiness of his hold. Pulling back from him, you promptly swept his hands up in your own, tugging him towards the bench. “Come. Sit. Stay with me a while and forget your troubles, if only for a few moments. If you can spare them, at least.”

His regard held an almost painful tenderness as it met yours, his voice dropping to a silken timbre. “That and more, should you but ask.”

Your eyes never left his, then, as you led him with ease to your chosen perch. Scooping up Sibylla’s book, you made room for him to sit beside you there, and as he slowly settled himself, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief, you were keenly aware that your legs were touching, hip to knee…

“Do you like poetry?” you inquired, choosing to ignore how your heart continued to race a little at his continued close proximity.

He glanced sideways, his eyes flicking downwards towards the book in your lap. “As much as the next person, I suppose. Is that a new acquisition?”

You grinned up at him. “Princess Sibylla loaned it to me, actually. We’re planning on discussing it in a few days.”

He nodded slowly at that, seeming to approve. “My sister is in need of good company. I am glad to hear you are getting along well with her.”

“She terrified me at first,” you admitted with a laugh. “But I think she truly wishes for us to be friends.”

Baldwin’s gaze leveled at you behind the mask. “And you were not terrified of me?”

The question was a soft one, wavering slightly, though from recent exertion or emotion, you couldn’t quite tell.

A gentle smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Never.”

For a long moment, his eyes searched yours, and you couldn’t help but let them. Their color, their shape, their intensity… they were so beautifully expressive that it didn’t matter that his mask concealed everything else. When they looked at you, you were almost certain you could feel what he felt in your own heart. And what you felt now was more warmth. This time, though, it blossomed from within as those eyes relaxed into a half-lidded stare that was so much like that of the cat you’d just found…

Aware of the blush heating your cheeks at such a look, you finally tore your gaze from his and cleared your throat. “Would you like to hear a bit of this? It’s rather good…”

“Yes, I very much would,” he answered, his tone an almost distant one.

With that, you opened the book where you left off, taking a breath before beginning to read aloud. You hoped he didn’t mind romances, as that was precisely what this one was – a chivalric tale of doomed love…

Any self-consciousness you possessed about the contents was banished, however, the moment you felt his hand curl around your waist.

It was so light a touch it barely registered at first. But then you saw the flash of white out of the corner of your eye, bright upon the green of your gown. Felt the slight weight of that hand upon the curve of your waist. Almost instinctively, you leaned into him in response, and his grip tightened a little.

“I am not hurting you, am I?” you asked quietly, concerned about the effects of any weight against his fragile flesh.

“You could never hurt me,” he replied in a whisper.

And that was the moment you felt his head rest against yours as you continued to read.

Thank you all very much for reading! 😊I hope you enjoyed! ✨ And if you have any other ideas for Y/N, I'd love to hear them!

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXIX)

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! It’s the poetry reading!!! Also, we’re getting some special guests in this chapter!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 5237

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Anne Hathaway

‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’ (from Shakespeare’s will)

The bed we loved in was a spinning world of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme to his, now echo, assonance; his touch a verb dancing in the centre of a noun. Some nights, I dreamed he’s written me, the bed A page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste. In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on, dribbling their prose. My living laughing love- I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head as he held me upon that next best bed.

Carole Ann Duffy, The World’s Wife

It was raining in Dublin that afternoon.

Andrew was nervous, to say the least. As he hurried into the bookshop that was hosting his poetry reading, he was questioning all of his life’s choices. If he was proud of his work, if he had been on a stage before, if he was used to talking in front of crowds… he still had dreadful nerves right before any of these events.

He tried to calm down, opening the glass door of the bookshop in a hurry. He was suddenly very aware that the rain must have made his hair look like a bird’s nest, and as he bent to enter the shop, he could feel himself taking up too much space.

He put these thoughts aside, forcing himself to smile as he walked across the shop, recognising his agent instantly as she was talking with the bookshop owner.

“Andy! This is Niamh O’Brien, the owner of the bookshop,” said Caroline, as Andrew shook hands with the fifty-something woman in front of him.

“It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for organising this,” Andrew smiled, his voice sounding a little hoarse as the stress was making his throat tighten.

“Oh, it’s nothing! It’s a pleasure, indeed! Thank you for accepting to come here, I truly admire your work,” complimented O’Brien, making Andrew nod and blush.

“Thanks,” he answered automatically, pushing the compliment away instantly.

“Alright, let’s go to my office so we can run through today’s event, and then I’ll give you a little time to get ready if you need,” explained the owner of the bookshop while they walked across the shop and to a small door at the back, near the Shakespeare section. “As I was telling Caroline, we have a large room upstairs for these readings, for seminaries, lectures… all those things. The response to the advertisement was very encouraging, indeed! We’re expecting over two hundred people today.”

Andrew nervously chuckled.

“I thought this was a small event…”

“I thought it would be! Poetry readings are not always the most popular events, sadly. But we had underestimated the popularity of your work, clearly! We have about two hundred seats upstairs, and we’re expecting a full house!”

“Wow… that’s grand,” Andrew grinned, digging his hands into his pockets.

They walked inside O’Brien’s office, and discussed some details about the afternoon around a warm cup of coffee.

“We have planned some questions after the reading,” O’Brien went on, sipping on her beverage. “Anything that we should… avoid or that you are adamant to discuss?”

“Erm… like… I reckon it’s best if you decide what questions are more relevant. I’m not going to discuss anything too private, though.”

“Too private?”

“Like… my personal life is private, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Of course. I can understand that.”

“Thank you.”

“We gave Caroline a few titles that we would really like you to read, if that’s fine by you. But I’m curious to know what are the other poems you’ve decided to share today.”

“Erm… yeah, totally! Erm… I’ve noted the ones you asked for, I’ll read them obviously. Then, I’ve just picked a few that I felt fitted your selection. I’m also going to publish a few poems next month, so I thought I could read three of these.”

“Oh, that would be amazing! Maybe finish the reading with these new ones!”

“Yeah, I thought I could do that. Do you prefer to read them before hand?”

“Oh, no, no! You’re the author, you choose what you read and want to share today! On the contrary, I can’t wait to discover them when you read them aloud!”

She grinned excitedly.

“Oh, now I truly cannot wait! Right, we still have about forty-five minutes before the reading begins, I’m going to help welcome our visitors. You take some time to get ready, and ask us if you need anything, alright?”

“Totally… yeah. Thank you.”

As soon as O’Brien had left the room, Caroline heaved a sigh, relaxing in her chair while she turned to Andrew.

“You’re ready for today?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Good… are your parents coming? I mean… they always come when the readings are in Dublin, I don’t know why I’m asking,” she chuckled, and Andrew enthusiastically nodded.

“Yeah, they’ll be here! Jon is off to Cork for a project he’s working on, but both my parents are coming.”

“Anyone else you’ll know in the crowd? Alex?”

“No, Alex is busy working on a music project with his new band at the moment. I… I have another friend who’s coming, though.”

“Really? Who?”

“Erm… Her name’s Y/N. We work together, actually.”

As she studied his features, Caroline raised a teasing eyebrow, a grin slowly creeping over her lips.

“And… is this Y/N nice to look at, too?”

“Caroline!” Andrew chuckled, rubbing at his cheek. “She’s just a friend.”

“She is at the moment, perhaps… but is she meant to remain just that?”

Andrew didn’t say anything at first.

“I can’t see the future, you know? I didn’t pass the exams in divination back in College.”

“Are any of these new poems influenced by her?”

Andrew cleared his throat, reached for the thermos of tea and honey he had brought for his throat.

“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled under his breath. “I should read these again, just to practice.”

“Yeah, I bet you should,” Caroline laughed, taking her phone out of her purse to check her emails.

Meanwhile, Andrew read some of his poems again, just to remind himself of the pauses, the stresses, the intentions he wanted to add when he would read them out loud. About ten minutes before the beginning of the reading session, he checked his phone. His father had sent him a couple of texts, one to notify him that they were ten minutes away from Dublin, and another later on once he and Andrew’s mother were already seated in the bookshop.

There was another text from you as well, and Andrew’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Waiting for the reading to begin! Just wanted to wish you good luck, although I have no doubts you’re gonna kill it!

He started typing while Caroline was checking a few last-minute details.

Hey! Thank you again for coming today, it means a lot to me. I’ll try not to make too much of a fool of myself out there.

 Your answer was almost instantaneous.

No need to thank me for that. I’m glad to be here.

You’ve got a full house btw! I was right to come here early, the room is packed. Some people are sitting on the floor, others are just standing. Apparently they’ve had to turn some people away, there was just no room left.

And I didn’t even know you wrote poetry, shame on me…

Andrew chuckled at that, not noticing that Caroline was talking to him. He was too busy answering.

Ha… thanks. Now, I’m going to die of stress before I can get up there and read.

Also, I hadn’t warned you, but all these people were hired. I’m only trying to impress you.

He realised there was a little bit of flirt in that last message, but he didn’t change it. Instead, he bit on his nail, eyes fixed on his screen while you typed a response.

Ha, that explains it then! You’re actually a rich egomaniac who is forging his success!

He chuckled.

Indeed, I am. You’ve read right through me.

Caroline frowned, but he didn’t notice either.

And I thought you were just a talented poet.

He blushed, tried to brush the compliment away.

Christ, I really am not, trust me.

“Andy!”

Andrew finally looked up, startled.

“Hmm?”

“It’s time to go, come on.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah…”

“You’ll do just fine. You always do great in these.”

Andrew nodded, typing quickly one last message before he would follow Caroline upstairs.

Time’s up. I’ll talk to you after the reading, if you want to stick around a little.

You sent him one last encouraging text that he didn’t have the time to read, but that would make him grin later that night, when he would discover it, hours later.

For now though, he was walking inside the large room, after O’Brien had quickly introduced him, and he waved shyly while the crowd clapped for him. He settled in front of the mic stand, readjusted its height to fit his tall body better.

When he looked up again, he easily spotted his parents, first row, as per usual. They grinned proudly at him, and the sight made him relax instantly. He took one more second to scan the room quickly, and it was indeed packed with people, more than he had anticipated for such an event, that was supposed to be a small gathering.

His eyes finally landed on you, fifth row, grinning at him with genuine excitement. You gave him a thumbs up, and it made him grin, almost laugh. You were wearing a green shirt that was revealing your cleavage a little more than usual, he noticed that right away. He noticed how you were smiling, how your eyes were shining, how you seemed happy to be here.

He blushed, before finally speaking.

You were beyond impressed, to be fair.

Andrew’s deep, soft voice was lulling you into another world, another plane of existence, while you listened to him reading his poems. There was something unbelievably magnetic in the way he spoke, in the way he stood there, alone in a single spotlight, a hand in the pocket of his brown corduroy trousers, the other holding his book. He looked so handsome like this too, curly hair partially tied back, the rest let loose over his shoulders. His brown jacket matched the colour of his trousers, the black of his turtleneck was the same shade as his leather shoes. His glasses perched on his nose caught the light from time to time, but you were obsessed by the eyes beyond them, irises seeming brownish in this light. You noticed that he often looked at you as he spoke, or while he talked a little in between poems, explaining something about the text before he would read it, or sipping on his thermos of hot tea. You spotted the two teabag tags hanging from the grey bottle, and couldn’t refrain a fond smile at the sight. He liked his tea so strong, just like his coffee…

Behind him, across the white wall, there were pictures projected while he read, matching the poems. Sometimes short, silent films. You were particularly struck by the LGBTQ+ meaning on the black and white extract for Take Me To Church, the roughness of the themes for Cherry Wine, the dancers that moved behind Andrew’s frame for Movement. You were more impressed by his work itself though, by the beauty in the images he summoned, the sincerity he seemed to inject into each word, the gentleness he used to speak about love, the complexity of the feeling, too, and the way he talked about sex as an act of worship instead of pure lust, as a sacred act of loving. You loved every second of it.

Finally, he closed his second book, but pulled from it a few loose sheets of paper, and smiled at the crowd.

“We have only a few minutes left, and… erm… I thought I could share with you a few new poems today. They will soon be published in a poetry journal, but this sounded like the perfect occasion to finally… erm… release them into the world and… and… erm… to just, let them loose, I guess. The first one is called Why Would You Be Loved, and it is about… the despair that comes with love. With sharing something so absolute, and wondering why it should even occur to you, and why you should let yourself be engulfed in this kind of… erm… like… this kind of overwhelmingly strong feelings, that will probably hurt you an awful lot, in the end. So… yeah, I definitely thought that I needed to lift up the mood a little for this last part, and thus chose the most pessimistic poem I could find for you all. I expect a lot of smiles and giggles for this one.”

Everyone chuckled at that, and you weren’t an exception.

Although, you were most definitely not laughing when Andrew started reading. He seemed a little more nervous with this poem, you noticed how he was fidgeting with this piece of paper, how his eyes were shining a little more now, how his voice sounded deeper than before.

You listened, not realising that you were tearing up. But you were, you noticed it at last when a tear rolled all the way across your neck, tickling your skin.

His words echoed into your own pain, and you read in them his heartbreak after Samantha’s betrayal.

Why would you play it all on somethin' as hollow as trust?

What if you gave it all, to find that it wasn't enough?

Damn, you brushed your cheeks to dry them on your sleeve. This was echoing in your soul a little too much, a little too desperately…

The woman next to you was crying as well, you noticed the man before you rubbing discreetly at his eyes.

And then Andrew was quiet again. The applause was so loud, he looked up in surprise.

“Erm… thank you,” he smiled, nodding his head. “I… I have a couple more poems. This next one is called NFWMB, you’ll find out pretty quickly what that stands for. And it’s just… I had fun with the theme of the world ending, and I was reading a lot of Yeats too at the time, so there’s a bit of that in there. I just played with the… erm… like, the idea of having your partner being absolutely terrifying, and actually almost… thriving in that chaos. So, yeah…”

He cleared his throat, caught your eyes as he took a deeper breath before starting reading. And there was something different in his gaze, something so intense, it made you unable to look away. When Andrew looked down at his paper to read, his body was still slightly turned in your direction.

Your breath caught in your throat when he spelled out the title, when you realised what this was truly about…

Nothing fucks with my baby

You thought back about that afternoon with him, that conversation. That joke you made about being tougher than you looked; the way he had replied with a serious gaze, a firm tone, that you were tougher than you thought you were.

He looked up right after that verse, caught your eyes with his, and you knew then, you knew without a doubt that this was about you.

If I was born as a blackthorn tree

I'd wanna be felled by you

Held by you

Fuel the pyre of your enemies

But these words, they couldn’t be aimed at you… how could they? Was that what he thought of you? Was that… was that what he was ready to be and do for you?

You were struggling to breathe by the end of the poem.

Did that mean that he wrote about you?! That Andrew wrote love poems about you?

And not just love poems, but poems that showed you as some badass independent woman?!

Was that how he saw you? Strong like that?

“This is our last poem for today. It’s more of a tongue-in-cheek kind of poem. I played with the idea of using language to seduce someone. Especially in poetry, we use words in an aesthetic way, like… erm… like, I wanted to play with that idea of using poetry to lure someone in, in a way… like, using metaphors and beautiful turns of phrase to hide the fact that you just… want to jump their bones, basically.”

He smiled humorously, while the audience laughed and chuckled.

But then his eyes were back on you, and you noticed the way he blushed before he began reading.

He stole a few glances at you throughout the poem, and you almost liquified on your chair when he looked at you right after reading a certain verse…

Imagine being loved by me

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

You struggled to swallow when he kept eye contact with you while he repeated that verse, your heart pounding, head spinning a bit, and feeling your entire body react to his deep, suave voice speaking these words directly to you.

You could barely breathe by the end of it.

You didn’t pay attention while Andrew was sitting now with O’Brien, you merely clapped along, but couldn’t conjure up any logical thought.

You took a couple of deep breath, feeling your entire body on fire. And then, you were the one imagining things he could do to you as you stared at his hand while it reached the microphone O’Brien was handing him…

The questions offered an interesting insight on many of Andrew’s poems. He sounded passionate about them, about the political messages he wanted to carry, about the vision he had of love and sex and the honesty that he thought was necessary in poetry. You listened attentively, often agreeing with his views. When the interview was over, and the applause had quieted down again, O’Brien announced a short break, before Andrew would sign copies of his books. You weren’t sure if you ought to talk to him now, as people were walking out of the room, some to go home and some to wait outside to get their books signed. You had already bought both of his books, even though you had not read them, wanting to discover Andrew’s work while he would read it. So, you stood there awkwardly for a while, hesitating to walk up to Andrew even though he was now talking to a couple of people he seemed to know, or to walk out of the room.

You were about to listen to your anxious self and walk away to wait for him outside when he called for you.

He approached with a grin on his face, and you tried to ignore how everyone was staring at the two of you.

“Thank you for coming!” he grinned, and you offered him back the same happy smile.

“No need to thank me. On the contrary, thank you for inviting me! It was amazing.”

He looked nervous for a moment.

“You… you liked the poems, then?”

You chuckled.

“That… is the understatement of the century!” you joked, and Andrew seemed deeply relieved. “I loved it. You… your poems are so beautiful, and so deep and complex and insightful and just… amazing. Truly, absolutely stunning.”

He stared at you for a moment looking a little stunned by your words, blushing more and more. He nodded, burying his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you so much. I’m glad you liked my work.”

“I really loved all your poems.”

You saw him biting the inside of his cheek, and he was about to speak again when he was interrupted by the woman he had been talking to a moment before. Actually, she didn’t speak to him, but he must have felt her approaching, and he turned to her with a warm smile.

“Oh, erm… This is Y/N,” Andrew started introducing you while a man was joining them too. “We work together at Trinity, I told you about her. Erm… Y/N, this is my mom Raine, and my dad John.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, hearing that Andrew had told his parents about you, but you quickly recovered and shook their hands, warmly greeting them.

“Of course! Andy has told us a lot about you, indeed!” Raine nodded, making Andrew blush. “We were thinking about going for a coffee while Andy is signing some autographs. Would you like to join us? We could all go for dinner after that!”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, and looked at you with a careful expression, that seemed to convene the message that you shouldn’t feel pressured to accept if you didn’t feel like it. But you merely grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you politely declined a first time, but Raine insisted, and this time you accepted, excited at the thought of talking with Andrew’s family.

“Alright,” Andrew nodded, and he seemed a little uncomfortable but happy all the same. “This shouldn’t take too long, I’ll join you all when I’m done here.”

You ended up in a coffeeshop nearby, bought some cake and a coffee with Andrew’s parents. You were a little nervous, worried that they might dislike you, although you refused to dig into the reasons that made your heart quicken with dread. Your fears were unfounded though, the conversation went smoothly, and both of his parents were kind-hearted. His father was a little quieter than Raine, but you couldn’t help but notice how much Andrew and John were alike, both physically and in their behaviour. They made you laugh while telling you some funny stories from Andrew’s childhood, and you answered their questions about your life, your career. Andrew joined you about an hour later, and he offered for all of you to come to his flat for dinner. You didn’t want to intrude, but they all insisted, and so you ended up yielding.

Andrew was nervous, although he tried very hard to hide it.

The adrenaline from the afternoon had not waned yet, he was still a little high on it. The fact that his parents were now sharing some of his childhood stories with you wasn’t helping. It felt a little surreal, to have you talking with them, joking, laughing with his parents. You seemed to easily fit in though, and Andrew couldn’t help but draw the comparison with Sam, how she never quite felt at ease with his parents, especially his father, who was a little more reserved than Raine. But now John was deep in conversation with you, telling you about the days when he was a blues musician, the drummer of a band called Free Booze, and you laughed with him at his anecdotes.

“Of course, everybody was coming in with that written on the sign by the door of whatever pub we were playing at. And once they were inside they thought ‘might as well buy a beer’, and so we were often booked around town!”

You laughed at that.

“So cunning. Great marketing skills right there,” you joked, everybody laughing at the happy memories.

“Ha, these were back in the days,” John heaved a nostalgic sigh. “Then, we had Andrew, and… I had a choice to make. Being a gigging musician wasn’t paying all the bills every months, sometimes it was working well, but other times it was inconsistent. Having a second child, I had to give up on it. Besides, I didn’t feel like travelling around the country with my two lads at home.”

“Do you ever regret quitting music?” you asked, voice gentle.

“No, not really. It was not an easy choice to make, but music demands a lot of sacrifices. And I was certainly not ready to sacrifice my family for it.”

You nodded, humming in quiet agreement.

“So, that’s where your love for music comes from then?” you turned to Andrew, and he nodded with a smile.

“Yeah… grew up being fed a lot of blues, rock, soul music… stuff like that.”

You nodded, before Raine would draw the conversation to another topic. Andrew saw you sneaking a bit of food to Elwood, and he smiled fondly at the sight, his heart growing warm at the thought that you fitted so easily into his family, into his home. His parents seemed to genuinely like you, and you seemed to like them as well. By the end of the evening, you had learned a worrying number of silly anecdotes about Andrew’s childhood, you were planning to exchange recipes with Raine, and were setting a bet on the next win for the Irish Rugby team with John. It seemed easy for you to fit into the bubble of love that surrounded Andrew. Sam had never felt like that…

His parents were staying a little longer, planning on helping Andrew clean up, but they all shushed you when you offered to help. You seemed tired, Andrew could see it, and he knew you had classes early the next day. He offered to walk you back to your car, just so that he could steal a few minutes alone with you.

“Thank you for today, Andy! It was grood craic!” you grinned up at him as you both walked across the street towards your car.

“Thank you for coming. I hope my parents weren’t too obnoxious, especially while I wasn’t around.”

“No! Not at all! Your parents are lovely.”

“Yeah… yeah, they’re very nice people.”

“And now I have so much to work with to laugh at you… mister ‘I’m a bad boy because I climbed a rotten tree thinking it was a ladder, and now I have scar on my chest and I look like I was attacked by a bear!’”

You both exploded with laughter, Andrew shaking his head.

“Christ, don’t tell that to anyone, I’m begging you…”

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

You reached your car, but lingered by the door, turning to him instead.

And God, you looked so beautiful like this, in your black jeans and green shirt… the lights of the lampposts shining in your hair. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the street was still damp, tainted with orange hues by the light.

He wanted to kiss you so badly…

“Andy… can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” he encouraged you, tilting his head to the side a little.

“I… I assume the poems you wrote in your collections are about Sam, as you were together at the time, but… the ones you added… the new poems you read at the end of the session… were they about her as well?”

Andrew’s heart started to quicken its pace until it was pounding. He nervously rubbed his palms together.

“Hmm… no. I wrote these after she left, so… they were not about her. They… they are about another woman.”

He intensely stared at you, silently trying to convey his feelings. That the poems were about you, about his desire for you, about how strong he thought you were…

He saw that you were struggling to swallow, heard that your breath was catching in your throat. He could have sworn that you were glimpsing at his lips…

But then you shook yourself, and looked away in a hurry.

“Well, good night, Andy! I’m gonna read the rest of your poems this weekend. I’d love to talk about it with you next week, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah! That would be grand, yeah. Sure… Totally!”

You exchanged a shy smile, before you would turn to your car.

And as he watched you drive away, Andrew wondered if you had understood him. If you knew that he had written NFWMB and Talk for you. And if you had, indeed, understood him… were you running away now? Had he made you uncomfortable? Perhaps he shouldn’t have chosen these poems after all, perhaps he should have kept them a secret, or at least, hidden their true meaning, hidden that they were about you.

He walked back to his home, helped his parents wash the dishes.

“Y/N is such a lovely woman!” Raine praised while Andrew was getting busy washing the plates.

“She is,” he nodded with a soft smile.

“Very smart, and with a lovely humour too,” John approved with a nod, putting the washed glasses back into the right cupboard.

“And she is very beautiful,” Raine added. “And single.”

Andy laughed, although he was blushing.

“Mom! Stop it! How do you even know she’s single?”

“I asked her!”

“You’re incorrigible…” Andrew laughed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying is that… she’s beautiful, around the same age as you, that she… has a strong career, a stable situation. And as your father said, she has a lovely personality, she’s smart… and you seem to have a lot in common. And she seems to be so nice, Andy. So very nice…”

“She is,” Andrew nodded quietly.

Raine looked carefully at her son for a moment, before speaking again.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Andrew said nothing, merely pressed the sponge against a plate.

“You know, we’ve never told you about it but… your father and I… we’ve never really liked Samantha very much.”

Andrew chuckled.

“I know, mom. It was pretty obvious.”

“She was… I don’t know. There was something off with her. I’ve never felt like she fitted into your world very well. Not that a couple should share everything! It’s very important that you both have hobbies of your own, some things that belong to you. But it’s something else entirely to show no interest in your partner’s life.”

“She made efforts,” Andrew answered, growing defensive out of habit more than conviction.

“She never came to your readings. She never read your poetry…”

“She doesn’t like poetry…”

“And I don’t know anything about music. I still listen to your father when he talks about it, still try to support him in the things he loves, even though I don’t understand it on the same level as he does. Just like your father supported me with my art, with me going back to university for a degree…”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“You’re right. She wasn’t like that with me.”

Slowly, Raine nodded.

“It’s good that you can see that now, son,” John patted Andrew’s shoulder.

“Hmm…”

“We really want to see you happy, you know?” Raine added, and Andrew nodded with a tender smile. “So… Y/N… for how long have you been writing poems about her?”

Andrew laughed, clearly uncomfortable now.

“Who said I am?”

“Come on now, I’m not blind. The way you look at her…”

Andrew blushed all the way up to his ears.

“Have you asked her out yet?” John asked, but Andrew shook his head.

“We’re both getting out of difficult break-ups… I don’t think this is the right time. I don’t think I feel ready for that. I… I like her a lot. I don’t want to mess it up because I’m trying to move on too soon.”

He didn’t tell them that he was in love with you. That he had fallen in love with you a little bit more every day for months now… that he kept on falling every time he looked at you, with every conversation and every new detail he learnt about you.

No, he didn’t tell them that. Instead, he merely cleared his throat.

“Anyway… I don’t think she sees me like that at all,” he added, but both his parents exchanged a look, and then chuckled fondly at their son.

“You can be so blind sometimes, Andy…” John shook his head.

“What?”

“She likes you. A lot,” Raine stated as if it was the most obvious truth on Earth.

Andrew blinked at her, his hands still in soapy water.

Did you? Did you like him? Really?

[jog-hog]

Siblings and secrets don't mix

Dipper x Pacifica

W/C: 1k+

Summary: Mabel's trying to figure out who Dipper is texting so much and finds out it's a certain popular princess of Gravity Falls.

Note: This fic is pure fluff absolutely tooth rotting also I've never posted a fic on Tumblr before I'm mainly an AO3 user so sorry for any formatting issues!

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

Back in Gravity Falls

After the events of their first stay in Gravity Falls the twins are not only well known,semi-well-liked they have friends. Friends that come and meet them at the bus as they pull up, friends that sneak out the house to hang out with them and recently friends that text them A LOT when they're not in Gravity Falls.

Dipper had never been big on the whole phone thing instead enjoying nature whenever possible and appreciating literature and writing but recently Mabel's noticed theres been a significant rise in notifications and a very big increase in him checking them (and him showering has gone up marginally). Mabel knew what this meant.

All signs pointed to pine tree having...a girlfriend ?! Of course Mabel has been in her fair share of relationships so it's not really a shocker but Dipper? She didn't even know someone could like Dipper back!

However whenever she'd try to introduce the topic to their conversations he'd shut it down quickly... suspiciously quickly.

Heres what she knew: they texted ALL THE TIME which means they're probably not in our school since she's also caught him sneaking peaks at his phone in school, they care about Dipper showering and that's about it...he really is a stubborn one isn't he? So obviously she had to concoct a plan, dare she say a plot to look onto Dippers phone and answer the very important question: WHO ARE THEY??

As Mabel sat awake in bed trying to figure out who it was she went down her mental list of potential suitors. She knew they weren't that far, Mabel probably knows them too...

Then a lightbulb moment occured

"GRAVITY FALLS!"

She though to herself jumping up in bed, it had to be. Theres only one person, one possible person: Pacifica Northwest! Mabel couldn't believe it, she always got a vibe from the two but couldn't sell herself on it due to Candy's crush but given she's over it and that the two are texting non stop it just HAD to be Pacifica!

In the morning Mabel awoke to the sound of tapping on a phone, Dipper was awake before her which was abnormal and even stranger he was on his phone! Mabel looked at him and smirked

"Who're you texting lil bro?"

"No one!" Dipper exclaimed going red and hiding his phone away from his twin.

"Aw come on Dip we're twins we need to tell eachother everything!"

Dipper sighs going red, Mabel looks at him intently waiting for him to confirm her suspicions.

"..Well" he starts quietly "come closer I'm embarrassed" he says hiding his face in his hands. Mabel simply walks forward

"Whisper I promise I won't tell mom and dad come on!!" She begged

"I've been messaging Pacifica and..." He begins and stops just as quickly getting visibly embarrassed

"AND?" Mabel continues. "AND I think we're dating" he blurts out quickly like he's ripping a band aid off.

There's a silence until Mabel breaks it

"OH. MY. GOD" she begins rambling a mile a minute about how cute they are, begging to see the messages just to know SOMETHING, her little twin was in a relationship!

Dipper sits there laughing grabbing her after a few minutes of this intense rambling

"You can't tell anyone okay? If we tell mom and dad they won't let us go to Gravity Falls it's only a few weeks away now"

Mabel promises her silence and they go about their lives (with much more drama than once before).

On the bus ride to Gravity Falls Mabel notices some persistent texting occurring right next to her, she desperately wanted to know what they were talking about but Dipper would hide away every time she got close enough to read it. Dipper was being far too secretive about this relationship for Mabel's liking and as siblings she had to be annoying at least once on the bus ride over, at this…this was her calling.

Abruptly she snatches the phone out of Dippers hands and shoots herself to the other side of the backseats on the bus, he immediately yells at her to give it back and chases after her as she kicks him off, she begins reading and exclaims

“‘I MISS YOU SO MUCH??’ OMG ‘I LOVE YOU TOO’” she giggles looking at how adorable their conversation is as Dipper yells at her to stop, she continues anyways (as any good sibling would) until he finally manages to crawl over and grab his phone back. Mabel continues laughing as Dipper pouts.

“You need to stop doing things like that” Dipper says moping and shooting his sister a look.

“You need to stop hiding things from me nerd” Mabel says back, shooting him the same look but with a smug grin on her face.

Dipper still looked a bit upset, she realised she probably went a bit too far by reading it out, her smug smile dropped as she looked down at the ground and played with her sweater.

As the awkward silence grows Mabel pierces it again.

“Awkward sibling hug?” She proposes looking at him with a sympathetic ‘this is for real’ look on her face stretching her arms out toward him.

Dippers face breaks it's serious expression and a small smile creeps onto his face, exhaling and turning to face his sister.

“Awkward sibling hug” he says while quietly chuckling and messing with her hair after the semi-robotic “Pat Pat”.

Mabel laughs realizing they're near their real home Gravity Falls and naturally she takes her opportunity:

“We're close to getting off and seeing your new GIRLFRIE-” she says the last bit loudly even though there is no one on the bus at this point except for the poor bus driver who's had to witness all this. Dipper quickly puts his hand over her mouth and pulls away before she licks his palm (again). As they pull up Mabel notices how Dipper immediately scans the crowd for Pacifica as they make eye contact.

“They really like each other don't they ?” Mabel thinks to herself as she smiles and grabs her bags.

The two can't wait for another beautiful and terrifyingly strange summer in Gravity Falls.

[kittenintheden]

No Thoughts, Just Vibes

Oh, you know, just a little Solstice/Midwinter treat for you. Enjoy!

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Tav (descriptionless) (BG3) Content warnings: PWP, PIV sex, oral sex, sex toys, tooth-rotting fluff

---

Their adventures by night in Faerún take them all over, from the Underdark to check up on Astarion’s siblings and their new spawn charges to Waterdeep in search of potential arcane solutions for certain undead individuals with sun sensitivity.

In fact, they find themselves entering Waterdeep just in time for Midwinter. The magicked streetlamps of the place glow golden and are festooned with all manner of wintery decorations, which feel oddly out of place in the seaside city but have a magic all their own nonetheless.

It’s just past dark when they approach a wizard’s tower, having spent the daylight hours getting to know the tavern and inn down the way while the sun still sparkled off the water. Now that it’s safe once again, Astarion and Tav ring the bell near the tower door and are greeted with a series of chiming meows in the style of a popular carol.

“He really doesn’t have to try so hard,” Astarion says, smirking despite himself. “And yet.”

“Let him be the dork of his dreams,” Tav chides playfully. “He deserves it. We all do.”

On cue, the large door of cypress wood before them swings open and their wizard friend holds out his hands in the foyer of his tower, arms wide.

“You made it!” Gale says, beaming. “Come, come inside. Please mind Tara, she’s been quite taken with the mistleberry and has made herself sick more than once despite my gentle reminders .” He yells the last words toward the spiraling staircase and from a nook nestled high in the wall, he receives a hiss in response.

“Relateable,” Astarion mutters as he comes inside, but he accepts an embrace from Gale nonetheless, giving him a stilted pat on the back.

Truly, the lot of them are glad their adventuring brought them to Gale’s doorstep. It’s nice to be off the road and surrounded by modern luxury again, and the wizard’s gone out of his way to ensure their modest celebration is full of delights. He’s even procured a top-vintage sanguine refreshment for Astarion.

“Did you imbue this with clove?” he asks, swirling it in his goblet and giving it another sniff.

“Not exactly,” Gale says, cheeks rosy from his own imbibed glass of wine. “Were you aware certain herbal and spiced components cross the blood barrier when inhaled or consumed? Give the resulting blood a bit of an essence for a certain frame of time. Garlic is the most common offender, but I thought I’d skip it, in this case. This donation came from a dear friend in the spice trade. One who doesn’t ask many questions and frequently dabbles in certain other trades.”

Astarion blinks against the verbal onslaught, then turns to Tav and says, “Hold on. Is that why I break out in hives after you’ve put too much garlic in your food?”

Tav’s also delightfully tipsy and she raises her glass to him. “I love you, dearest, but I’m not giving up garlic for you. Some prices are simply too steep.”

The night winds on and on like that until eventually Tav nods a sleepy head onto Astarion’s shoulder and he guides her off to bed in the spare room at the base of the tower. He returns to Gale, who’s ragaling Tara with his own rendition of “Marvelous Midwinter” to her great disdain.

“So, Gale,” Astarion says, interrupting to give Tara an appropriately respectful scritch on her head. “I have a bit of a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all, my friend,” Gale says, swaying. “How can I help?”

Astarion reaches into his pocket and procures a folded bit of something. He hands it to Gale, who unfolds it and examines it with some curiosity before cocking a brow at him.

“Any possibility of, erm. Recreating something to this effect?” Astarion asks. “One tied to a command word, perhaps?”

“Oh, certainly,” Gale says, going into tinkering mode as he examines the object. “I would need a few components, but luckily I have them in stock, thanks once again to my spice merchant friend. A little bit of articifer ingenuity to craft an arcane battery, some relatively complex enchantment, and a… wait.”

Gale gives Astarion another look and the vampire tilts his head and smirks.

“Right, I’m not asking,” Gale says, eyes back on his new puzzle. “Give me a day.”

“Lucky we’ll be here for three,” Astarion says with a light laugh.

The morning of Waterdeep’s official Midwinter celebration dawns bright and mild, the sea breeze rustling through the thick curtains they keep drawn in the guest room to ensure Astarion doesn’t wake up with burns or worse. They doze in the double bed in their underthings, Tav draped across Astarion’s chest and breathing softly as she wavers in and out of sleep. He’d actually fallen asleep last night, pressed up safe against her, and now he smiles into her hair, tracing his fingers up and down her arm.

Eventually she stretches along the length of her body and yawns against his skin, resting her chin on him and looking up into his face. She blinks lazily and runs a finger over the length of his nose with a delicate touch.

“Morning, dear,” she says, voice still rusty with sleep.

“Happy Midwinter, my love,” he murmurs in return. “I got you a little something.”

“Oh?” Tav purrs, sitting up a bit. “Is it fun?”

He arches a brow. “I certainly hope so.”

Astarion tangles his fingers in her sleep-mussed hair and draws her to his mouth, kissing her deeply as she relaxes into his body, letting her tongue stroke against his. He rolls them both to their sides and hooks his leg over hers, taking his time as he lights up her skin in all the ways he knows she loves. She laughs, tilting her head back to expose her throat to him, and he licks along the column of it, though he doesn’t bite. He wants her fully aware this morning.

With one hand, he deftly undoes the clasps of her brassiere and tosses it aside. Her smallclothes follow quickly after. She hums, pleased, lazing onto her back as he kisses down her breastbone, palming one of her breasts and rolling his thumb over her nipple until it peaks. His mouth works at the other, teasing and swirling until she’s arching up into him and rubbing her thighs together.

“Is this my gift?” she sighs. “I like it.”

Astarion chuckles against the space below her breasts as he continues working his way down. “In part, I suppose. But not quite.”

He runs his tongue underneath her breast and then leaves her a moment to fetch something from the side table. She whines at his absence, but he doesn’t leave her waiting long. He rolls back over, slipping a ring snugly down onto the second knuckle of his middle finger.

She giggles. “Are you proposing to yourself? Fitting, honestly.”

“You’re cute when you’re lust drunk,” he says before he puts the weight of his body on top of hers, kissing her deep.

He hauls her leg up by the thigh, wrapping it around his waist so he has better access as he runs his hands down the length of her, gripping her arse tight before moving around to the front and teasing his clever touch between her legs. She’s already going wet, her arousal making for a smooth draw over her skin and she settles into it, a wide smile on her face, knowing she’s in a master’s hands.

Astarion grins. She has no idea.

He places his hand flat against her slit, cupping her and resting the ring against her in just the right place.

“ Deliciae ,” he whispers.

The ring sends a brief, rapid vibration through her core, just beside her clit, and Tav cries out in surprise, bucking her hips and gripping his biceps, her breath going erratic. She’s fully awake now, staring up into his face, wide-eyed.

“What in the hells,” she gasps.

Astarion gives her a light kiss. “I’d hoped you’d like it,” he says. Then, again, “ Deliciae .”

“Oh,” she says, her thighs shaking on either side of him as another vibration pulses through her. “Oh, dearest . Again.”

He's happy to comply, kissing her between her gasps and mewls, repeating the command word in a sultry whisper while he works her with his fingers in the meantime. His own arousal aches where it’s pressed against her hip and he gently grinds it against her for relief, just enough to keep his own head as he watches her break to pieces beneath him.

Tav rolls her head back and opens her mouth in a silent scream as her legs shake, incapable of holding back their shudders as a shivering, powerful peak comes over her under the little toy. It’s familiar but sweeter; her hips rise off the mattress and then slam down as she tips over the other side. Astarion feels her clenching and pulsing, strong and slick, and the entire ordeal is instantly worth it to bear witness to the unraveling. There is no pleasure, no greater high, than knowing he’s the one who brings her to this state. The one who has the privilege. The one she chose.

She blinks back to herself, a moan low in her throat as she tries to clear the spots in her vision. When she meets his eyes again, he’s panting himself, still rolling his hips to get some relief against her side. Her gaze clears as she breaks the surface of her pleasure and she growls, grabbing his face and bringing him down to her mouth, nipping his lower lip between her teeth until he whines from it.

“You liked my gift?” he whispers, breath quickened.

“Oh, yes,” she sighs. “Now let me give you yours.”

Tav’s hand snakes down their bodies to find his fingers and she takes them, slipping the ring off. He’s so dazed with lust that he lets her without thinking about it too much and gladly moves as she rolls them both until he’s the one on his back. Her mouth is so hot on his cooled skin as she places open mouthed kisses everywhere he likes – the space behind his ear, the place where shoulder meets neck, every rib on the way down. She spreads a hand in the center of his chest, over where his heart resides, and presses him into place as she licks down the line between his abdominal muscles.

Astarion’s cock twitches, throbbing against the weight of her body as she continues her path, and she uses her free hand to give him a rewarding squeeze and stroke, running the pad of her thumb over the split underneath the head. She gives his foreskin a little swirl, helping make sure it’s properly drawn down, and he thrusts up into her hand with a pleased murmur.

It’s taken time and significant gentle coaxing to get him to a place where he simply lets go and allows her to lavish him with attention. A lesson he’s forever learning, rewriting centuries of conditioning with care, with passion, with love. He closes his eyes and focuses on her touch, allowing himself the pleasures she’s happy to share with him.

With a slight jolt, he twitches when he feels her warm tongue follow the path of her fingers, rolling circles around the head of him and applying long licks down his length. Her fingers move to his sack, gently rolling his balls in her palm, warming them. She places a knuckle against the spot beneath them, kneading deep but gentle, finding the place that drives him wild.

“You are so good to me,” he sighs as she moves her mouth over his head again. “That’s so good.”

He senses her smile just before she swallows him down, taking his length halfway into her mouth and working him a few times before she pulls off and says, “ Deliciae .”

Astarion’s vision whites out as the knuckle pressing into his perineum sends a hard vibrating pulse through him at the same time she takes his cock in her mouth again. He gives a sharp cry.

“Bleeding hells,” he manages. “I… I…”

She pulls off of him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and says it again.

Pleasure upon pleasure crashes over him, lighting up his entire body as he writhes under her touch. She goes slow enough to make it delightfully tortuous, though it would be incredibly easy to push him over the edge in short order. She moves the enchanted ring, experimenting in different places – the base of his cock, the rim of his arse, the crease of his thighs – and each spot brings new sensations.

He’s an absolute mess by the time she draws back and crawls up his body, his hands weakly grasping at her hips as she sits up on her knees, gingerly reaching between her legs to hold his cock in place as she slides down onto it, both of them near sobbing at the sensation.

“I love you,” he manages with what little breath he can hold. “Gods, I love you, I love you.”

“Love you,” she breathes back as she rolls her hips hard against him over and again. “Love this. All of this.”

Tav rides him slowly, firmly, with intention. When they get to a point where they can’t help but pick up speed, grinding one another into oblivion, Tav lifts his shaking hand in hers and takes the ring from her finger so she can slip it back onto his, the movement reverent.

Astarion looks her in the face as he reaches down between them with his fingers spread over the base of his cock where they meet, resting the ring right alongside her oversensitive clit. 

“ Deliciae ,” they say together.

They shatter in the same moment, eyes rolling back, crying out to the morning light. The waves of delight roll like the tide outdoors, rising up the shore and receding back to the great unknown.

Tav collapses onto Astarion’s chest and his arms are so very heavy as he lifts them to wrap around her back. They breathe, and pulse, and live. Eventually, he begins tracing soothing patterns along her skin.

He clears his throat. “I take it that’s the inaugural positive review for Gale’s potential toy venture?” he says.

“Oh gods, that’s where…” Tav covers her face with her hands. “Oh gods, I have to go out there and see him.”

Astarion laughs and she laughs with him.

[dark-vader28]

New Girl

pairing: rodrick heffley x fem!reader

summary: Reader and her family are new in town, the heffleys invite them over for dinner as a welcome, blah blah blah, rodrick offers to give reader a drum lesson and makes a fool of himself doing everything in his power to impress you

warnings: swearing? tooth-rotting fluff. pls this is my first fic so im sorry if this is terrible, not rlly proofread

Your family had just moved in to Plainview, settled in a cozy home on the corner of the street. Once summer ended, you’d attend Crossland High School as a senior while your younger brother, Jake, would be starting 7th grade at Westmore Middle School. You dreaded school, even in the years you lived in your hometown, surrounded by your friends. Now that you were the new girl, you were sure it’d be all the more worse.

Your younger brother, Jake, on the other hand, made company so easy and made it seem like starting a conversation was as easy as knowing your own name. Sure, he wasn’t very popular, but he never went a year without a new friend or even a whole new group. You were sure he’d already be making friends on the walk to school.

While you were staring at your packed bag that you refused to unpack, in denial that your family had really moved, when the doorbell rang, echoing through the still house. Your attention was diverted and you snuck out your room, quietly walking to the railing by the stairs where you could have a clear view of the front door. You crouched down, hoping you wouldn’t be seen as you watched your mother strut to the door. The door swung open and there was a friendly smile waiting behind, holding some tupperware in her arms.

You were watching and listening, hardly moving or even breathing as they talked. The woman at the door, whose name you heard was Susan Heffley, was welcoming your family to Plainview. You heard them suggest a dinner this weekend so they could meet each other’s families; your mother had mentioned yours and your brother’s age which coincidentally were the same as the Heffleys. You let out a groan as your mom agreed to the dinner.

Mrs. Heffley left a few moments later, wishing your mother another welcome with a gentle smile before walking out the door. Surely she seemed nice but having to attend to dinner with a family you didn’t know was a long dreaded thought of yours.

The rest of the week seemed to go slow as you anticipated the inevitable dinner. You were also attempting to accept the fact that you were truly stuck in Plainview now unless you decided to move out and away when you turned 18, but you knew the thought was pointless considering it meant you’d have to be prepared by then.

When Saturday rolled around, you had finally unpacked your bag, trying to be a little more positive about living here. But that was a lie. Truth was your mom hounded you about living out of a suitcase and told you off for not unpacking. Not wanting to get in any more trouble, you hurriedly unpacked that night, throwing a pair of jeans and some shirt on your bed in the process for you to wear to dinner.

It was 5:50 and you were scrambling to finish up the last of your makeup and hair. If there was one thing your dad hated, it was being late, and you would likely be the cause of it. You had postponed getting ready for so long, procrastinating until there were few minutes to spare. You weren’t sure why you cared so much about your appearance, assuming that you would never talk to that family after tonight.

Jake’s fist pounded on your bathroom door, causing you to jump from the unexpected burst of noise. You nearly burnt yourself with the straightener you were holding. You quickly set it down and swung the door open. You were ready to scold your younger brother but he spoke before you.

“Mom and Dad said we’re leaving now, why aren’t you ready?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and pushed him away from the door, closing it.

“Just one more minute!” you shouted from the other side of the door. He knocked on the door a few more times and when you refused to answer, he gave up, grumbling something under his breath as he ran down the stairs.

A minute turned into two, then three, and then it was 5:59 and your dad was knocking on the door. You turned off the straightener and unplugged it, checking your reflection one last time before hurrying out the bathroom.

Considering how close your houses were, your family walked to the Heffley’s house. Right before the clock turned 6:01, your family was at the door, ringing the bell. You heard a few hushed murmurs from the other side of the door before the same familiar face that had come to your house before swung open the door.

Mrs. Heffley welcomed you in, closing the door behind you. A man, who you could only assume was Mr. Heffley, stood next to Mrs. Heffley, extending out a hand towards your father, then your mother.

“Frank Heffley,” the man introduced, smiling politely. He shook your hand and then Jake’s as Mrs. Heffley introduced herself and the littlest brother, Manny, that she held in her arms.

Then, bounding down the stairs comes a boy, somewhere between 11-13. He comes to a stop next to Mrs. Heffley and wears a nervous smile.

“And his is my second eldest son, Greg,” Mrs. Heffley beams. One after another, you all shake his hand, introducing yourselves. “Greg, you and Jake are both in seventh grade so maybe you’ll make good friends,” Mrs. Heffley comments. Jake smiles a little and Greg is hesitant to return the smile, unsure if he likes your brother.

Mrs. Heffley turns to Greg, whispering something private to him while your father exchanges pleasantries with his father, earning a warm smile from your mother. Greg shrugged at whatever Mrs. Heffley had said to him and she frowned.

It wasn’t long before another set of footsteps came running down the steps, this time a tall boy with dark, messed and fluffed up hair, wearing some graphic tee tucked only in the front behind a pair of dark jeans. He looked your age and from the conversation you had overheard earlier that week, you knew he was your age. But… what did that matter? You had no intent on talking to this family again.

“And this is Rodrick,” Mrs. Heffley introduced, not sounding nearly as enthusiastic as she had been when introducing Greg and Manny. The smile she wore seemed fake as she glared and Rodrick and nudged him. He looked confused, shooting her a look before he noticed my father’s outstretched hand. He shook my parents’ hands as we were all introduced once more, thankfully for the last time. You seemed to catch Rodrick’s eye, and your name was the only one he seemed to remember. He repeated your name in his head, making sure it stuck in his memory. The other names faded from his mind as your families walked to the dining table. A few extra chairs had been added to fit your family, which sat on one side as the Heffley family sat on the other. You faced Rodrick with Jake on your right and your mother on your left. This was already the longest evening of your time in Plainview.

Mrs. Heffley was bringing a plate of food as your fathers chatted away. Rodrick, Greg, and Jake were quick to pile heaping amounts onto their plates. You were the last to go for food, not expecting to eat much since you didn’t have much of an appetite that night.

The parent side of the table was lively, laughter filling the air while it was nothing but the tap or light scrape of the metal forks against the plate on your side of the table. Jake didn’t seem to mind, happily eating away at his food, nearly to the point of asking for seconds. You had picked at the homemade food, taking a few bites ever so often. It smelt amazing, almost giving you your appetite back.

But the worst part of the night wasn’t how they were strangers you were having dinner with, or how empty and silent your half of the table was, but rather how you kept finding Rodrick’s eyes. They were awkward glances where you’d both be caught looking at one another and you’d both avert your gaze as quickly as it had been found. It kickstarted your heart every time, sending a wave of embarrassment flooding through you which was shown through in the heat rising to your face. You were praying someone on your end of the table would feel the silence and ease the tension but with every glance you and Rodrick stole, the atmosphere felt heavier.

The buzz from the other side of the table faded, leaving a few painful moments of entire silence before your dad spoke, speaking to Rodrick this time.

“Was that your van outside?” your dad inquired, hoping to spark up a conversation after noticing the deafening silence.

Rodrick stole another look at you on his way to address your father. He nodded, shifting in his seat a little. The silence was beginning to make its dreaded reappearance and in a desperate attempt to prevent it, you foolishly decided to keep the conversation rolling.

“What’s the name painted on it?” you asked, and Rodrick’s eyes had quickly fallen away from your father to meet you.

“Löded Diper, the name of my band,” Rodrick replied proudly. You attempted to repress a smile. The name was ridiculous and it had you holding back a laugh but something about the confidence and the happiness in his tone made you forget the name and brought a grin to your lips.

“A band, huh? What do you play?” you questioned, shifting in your seat, leaning forward so your attention was nowhere but him. His lips curved up into a smile as his movement mimicked yours, facing you. You could see Susan and your mom smile at each other, gushing at how suddenly you and Rodrick were getting along.

“Drums,” he answered, and the other conversations resumed from the parent side of the table. Greg and Jake were silently watching you and Rodrick talk, both shocked that you had even acknowledged him. Jake knew you weren’t one to engage like this upon first meeting someone, especially not with someone like Rodrick. And Greg was sure you were way out of Rodrick’s league, whether it was from a relationship or even friendship standpoint. Greg and Jake seemed to read each other’s minds and started talking, filling the once silent half of the room with chatter.

“I always wanted to learn drums,” you commented sheepishly, breaking the eye contact you had been holding. He seemed to light up at that, sitting up a little taller.

“I could teach you,” he blurted out, rather loudly. Everyone seemed to glance at him for a moment before ignoring it and resuming their conversations. You found his gaze again and a smile crept on your lips.

“Really?” you asked. He nodded, and your smile curved into a smirk. “Well, of course, you’d have to been good at drums to teach somebody. Prove you’re any good and maybe then you can teach me.” He paused for a moment before he chuckled, leaning back in his chair as his once awkward demeanor became cocky.

“No no no, i’d be doing you a favour. And i don’t need to prove anything. I’m a great drummer. Right, Greg?” Rodrick asked, hitting Greg on the chest. Greg hadn’t been paying attention but held his chest where he had been hit as he nodded, agreeing to whatever Rodrick had asked. “See?” You rolled your eyes, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth to hide your smile.

“The poor kid is terrified of you,” you chuckled. You turned to Greg this time. “Don’t take any of his shit.” Greg smiled brightly and Rodrick seemed flustered that you hadn’t taken his side.

“Oh, come on, I’ve never done anything to him,” Rodrick defended. He wasn’t a great liar. You glanced at Rodrick before looking back at Greg, raising your eyebrows.

“Is he telling the truth?” you asked. Greg shot a look at Rodrick before laughing and shaking his head. You giggled. Rodrick’s face was turning red and he shoved Greg again.

“Dude! Deny, deny, deny!” Rodrick pestered, pushing Greg. Another laughter escaped your lips.

“So you admit you were lying!” Rodrick froze, his face dropping.

With the exception of Rod, your side of the table was in a fit of laughter. The other side had stilled, admiring how well you seemed to be getting along despite Rodrick being the butt of the joke. He’d felt embarrassed for a moment but hearing your laughter had a bright grin spreading across his face which eventually broke out into laughter. Your stomach and face started to hurt from laughing for too long and you let a few desperate pants as you leaned back in your seat, arms wrapped around your stomach.

Over an hour had passed and your families couldn’t have been getting along better. Greg and Rodrick had told you endless amounts of stories. You learned about The Cheese Touch and the thought of it made you gag, imagining that moldy cheese sitting on the dirty hot blacktop for years.

You asked Rodrick about his band, which he went on and on about until Greg told him to can it. Rodrick might’ve hit him again if Mrs. Heffley hadn’t glanced over at them and scolded Rodrick.

Nearing the end of your time with the Heffleys, you hesitantly asked Rodrick if he was serious about the drum lesson. Sure, your reason was purely because you had always wanted to learn how to play but it seemed as the night went on, your reason was slipping to wanting to see Rodrick again. You didn’t want to have to wait until summer’s end to be with him. He didn’t seem like the greatest influence and you were already sure your parents weren’t too fond of him, but something about him had you drawn towards him like a moth to light.

The Heffleys were escorting your family to the door, chatter still in the air, when you turned to Rodrick. You swallowed the lump in your throat and prayed your voice would come out normal.

“So… about that drum lesson,” you started, not meeting his eyes, but you still saw the smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“Tomorrow?” he suggested quickly, stopping to face you. You looked up, your brow slightly furrowed. “O-or another day. I mean-” He was blabbering, trying not to sound eager or desperate and a grin stretched across your lips.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” you replied. He relaxed, smiling a little.

“Yeah, yeah, cool,” he mumbled, pretending to sound uninterested. You pushed him gently and he couldn’t hide the smile. You rolled your eyes at him, a light laugh falling from your lips. That sound would be stuck in his brain all night as he lied awake, admiring you and feeling like he had dreamed you up cause he wasn’t sure someone like you could be real.

Your family said their goodbyes to the Heffleys as the four of you walked out the door. You headed home, unable to lose the smile of excitement as you thought about your plans for tomorrow. You were so distracted in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed your parents talking to you until your brother nudged you to snap you out of your daze.

“Are you alright?” your mom asked worriedly, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. You flashed her a smile and nodded. “Well, how was your night then? Did you like them?” Then to your father, “I thought they were nice, don’t you think?” Then back to you. “How was Rodrick? I was a little worried he was a bad influence.” If you hadn’t stepped in, your mom might’ve pestered with you questions until the end of the night.

“It was fun. I had a good time,” you reassured. She smiled as you reached your front steps.

When you finally got back to your room, you reveled in the once dreaded house that seemed like a punishment. You were now filled with anticipation, wishing it would be Sunday already so you’d get to see Rodrick again. Your mind hadn’t decided what was so endearing about him. Maybe it was his desperate, miserable attempts to impress you that made you nearly giggle like a school girl or his dark shaggy hair that fell in messy strands. But you didn’t let yourself think about that for too long, saving yourself from falling down that rabbit hole.

As the cool air from your open window filled the room and the pale moonlight danced across your skin, you were coaxed into sleep, smiling as you thought about your night.

Maybe Plainview wasn’t as bad as you had believed it to be.

————————————————————————————

a/n: well… first fic ig. i’m sorry if this is complete shit. i just felt like i should post something after having this account for 6 months and posting nothing. there are a few requests in my inbox that i do intend on getting to at some point i promise, im just a little slow with all of this 😭 let me know what you think and if you want more of these!

[rileythelonelyalien]

Late night groove

A/N: okay so this post may or may not be self-indulgent... but oh well, it just came to mind as I was scrolling through Tik Tok and I was like 'why not' lol. AnyWAYS i hope you enjoy, the other characters are still a work in progress but ill post them when I find the motivation and ideas for their scenarios.

charaters in this post: Caleb, Zayne

T/W: None, unless its maybe second-hand embarrassment lol.

word count: 888, all under the cut enjoy :D

Who hasn't accidentally stayed up too late doom scrolling on their phone only to have a mini concert with all the sounds you’ve saved and favorited on the app you've been scrolling? Well once again you've found yourself in the same situation. Alas… you forget that you no longer live completely on your own and that your partner could possibly catch you in your groove… surely not… they're asleep at this time anyways. 

Right?

CALEB:

Caleb was having some difficulty staying asleep, as per usual… an irritated grunt leaving his lips as he tosses in his bed for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of ten minutes. 

Reluctantly accepting that he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon he would drag himself out of the warm confines of his bed, if he couldn't sleep then he might as well at least do something productive in this time. Tweak some project he was working on or something…

What he did not expect to see was you. Sat on the couch, laptop that was left forgotten at their side with a new presentation from the hunters association about the updated policy and regulations that you were supposed to be reading up on… in favour for your phone that you had been scrolling on for a good hour or two now… perhaps even more, you weren't counting.

Oblivious you come across some sort of edit of a well known actor that had recently starred in a popular show, of course you were less so interested in the edit more so to the song that was playing. It's been trending recently and it has had a lot of edits under it.

You couldn't help but hum along as your upper body moves in time to the beat of the song, it was the type of song you could simply just feel yourself in. Your little impromptu dance, which you were under the impression was not going to be seen by anyone, is interrupted when a poorly stifled laugh cuts through the air.

You freeze absolutely horrid that you've been caught, slowly turning around feeling your face heat up in embarrassment knowing that you were caught doing something you weren't expecting to be seen doing. Of course Caleb could only stare back at you with a wide smug grin stretching across his face.

Oh yeah he was totally going to use this against you someday you just know it…

ZAYNE:

You’ve been trying to limit your screen time recently, after your partner had recently talked to you over his concerns about you losing sleep due to the blue light from screens as well as the potential for eye strain. Admittedly you have actually done quite well this week… granted that was also due to the fact that your job was keeping you busy enough to not give you the time to spend that much time on your phone.

Alas… you couldn't resist, it was your day off. What's some evening social media scrolling going to do anyway, right? Oh how naive you were…

Hours go by like minutes as you get sucked into the endless scroll of post after post. A brain rot video, a shopping haul, some pointless drama. Post after post, you don't notice how long you've been scrolling for…

Eventually you start to come across some fan edits of different actors from a show both you and Zayne have been watching recently scrolling through the comments and such. You come across a particular catchy song that's been trending recently. You hum along to it quietly before eventually before you realise it you're scrolling through edits lip syncing to the songs as if you were the one in these edits.

Meanwhile, Zayne has just arrived home after a particularly gruelling shift at the hospital, having to take much longer on a surgery to endure that it was a success. He was under the impression that given how late he had arrived home you would already be asleep.

Much to his surprise when he enters the bedroom there he sees you, lip syncing your heart out, your face being illuminated by the short flashes of an edit playing… It was a rather amusing sigh he had to admit but that didn't do much to stop him from frowning slightly with an exhausted sigh.

Hearing the sigh you pause, the edit is still quietly playing in the background but you're no longer lip syncing… you could feel the weight of embarrassment weighing heavily on your shoulders when you realise you've just been caught, not only staying up late on your phone once again… but lip syncing… oh the cringe was quiet strong with this as the silence wore on between you two.

Without another word Zayne would simply shed off his clothes, setting his glasses on the nightstand before reaching for your phone and setting it to charge. Then he would carefully wrap his arms around you snuggling up in bed, his nose pressed against the top of your head as he tiredly mumbles “It's late my darling, how about you sleep before you continue your performance?” 

You knew for a fact that this moment would now forever be locked in the vault of embarrassing moments that would play in your head when you try to go to sleep for sure…

[rainydayathogwarts]

ʀᴇᴘᴜᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ - ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴꜱᴏɴ

bi!cheerleader!reader Summary: Nancy leaves you a crying mess after your breakup and you find comfort in the person you least expect. Warnings: angsty at start, fluff, internal homophobia almost, anxiety attack if you squint. Flashbacks in italic This idea has been in my drafts since november 2022 and here we are, one year later. I do have to say, I'm really happy with how it turned out. wc: 2.4k

Seeing Nancy with her was the epitome of having something reach straight into your chest to grab your heart, only to pull it out and toss it away in a dark corner to rot and be forgotten about. Not only did she break your heart, she disgusted you. She disgusted you for trusting her, confiding in her with the secret of your sexuality, one that could ruin your reputation, only to find out she didn't care about it at all.

"No because I got worried about you when you didn't show up to pick me up from practice. Silly me right?" You spoke with a shaking voice, standing in the open doorway, watching as Nancy gasped, pushing a girl you barely recognised from the school band off of her. The girl stumbled, almost falling off the bed as Nancy rushed towards you, throwing her shirt back on. They were both topless and the blonde girl's pants were off. She desperately scrambled for her clothes, covering her chest from you. You tried holding in the tears as you waited for an explanation from your girlfriend. "Look it-it's not what it looks like!" Nancy argued, and you scoffed, but from the look on her face, even she wasn't impressed by that excuse.

A single tear drop rolled down your cheek before you broke down, a sobbing mess in front of Nancy and her side piece, completely humiliated and hurt. "Get out!" You heard Nancy yell at the girl, who staggered out of the occupied bedroom, forgetting her purse. You covered your face from Nancy, wildly trying to wipe away all your tears at once. She stood in front of you, putting a hand on your shoulder for comfort but you stepped away from her, sniffling angrily. "How could you? I thought- I thought." You cut yourself off, scoffing at her with a cold laugh before turning on your heels, ignoring her calls for you as you stormed out of her house, face wet and eyes red from crying.

It'd been three weeks. You'd missed school for the first two days after the breakup, dreading the moment you would lock eyes with her in the hallway or she'd come find you, looking to apologise. Even though continuing that routine for the rest of the month seemed appealing, you held an important role in the school, and couldn't possibly miss another day of your senior year.

That's why you stood in the now emptying gymnasium, congratulating the basketball team for winning the game, arm linked with the most popular boy in school, Billy Hargrove who threw you a dazzling smile as you walked out onto the field, where everyone would gather before separating into cars to go party. "Y/N! Ride with me?" Suggested Billy, and you smiled at him, winking in his direction. That what how you kept your reputation, stayed relevant to high school standards. Be popular, show interest in attractive boys, talk about your hook ups, show up to games, be the passionate cheer captain you are, and stay at the top of your class.

All at once.

It was exhausting, but that was who you were going to continue to be, especially for this last year before you went off to college. It was only when you laid your eyes on Nancy and the same girl from the band talking next to her car that you jogged along to catch up with Billy. You ignored the pang in your chest; clearly she wouldn't be looking for you to apologise anytime soon seeing as they were together. Billy was waiting outside his car for you, two other people you didn't recognised having climbed in the back seat of his car. He grinned upon seeing you and you placed two hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly as you got on the tip of your toes, pressing your lips against his. A few people whistled at you while Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss slightly.

"Just for congratulations." You say when you separate, opening the passenger door of his car. As you tighten the seatbelt around you, Billy starting the car engine, you make eye contact with Nancy, who despite everything, looks betrayed. It only makes you feel worse about yourself. Just for congratulations, you remind yourself. It doesn't mean anything, so she can't call you a slut for it. Hell, if it brought you more attention, you would do it again.

The party is great, and you'd really really enjoy it if Nancy wasn't the only thing you could think about, littering your mind like a piece of garbage. Normally, you wouldn't mind it being so sweaty. After all, a game did just end and all of the players were now shirtless inside, to your - and other girls' - advantage. However, your cheer uniform somehow clung to your skin uncomfortably and you felt like you couldn't breathe, tearing your eyes away from the shirtless bodies.

You step outside of the house, taking a deep breath and looking around. The only people around were a couple making out against a wall and some people in the back buying something off of Eddie Munson, famously known as the freak of school, which was ironic because he was extremely popular and well-known because of his side hustle. He even got along with some of the boys on the basketball team, who bought from him and invited him to parties on the down low. The only thing missing for him were the ladies.

You sighed, looking around to see if there was a third option on places to be, starting to get overwhelmed. One hand came up to play with the necklace around you neck and you sniffled, tears starting to cloud your vision. You turned back around to go inside but stopped in your tracks, shaking your head once you were reminded how big the crowd was.

"Hey. You okay?" A hand on your shoulder grasps your attention again, and you bring a hand up to aggressively wipe away the tears, and inevitably, some mascara. Towering over you with a concerned look on his face is the one and only Eddie Munson. You nod "Mhmm, I'm just gonna-" Your voice breaks and your lip wobbles, and only as background noise, you hear Eddie ask "You want to hang out in my van for a bit? No funny business, I promise." And you feel yourself nodding, allowing him to lead you into the back of his van, where he conveniently guides you onto a red beanbag, sitting down next to you on the hard floor.

He lets you sit down in silence, the only sound in the van being your quiet sobs. He plays with his rings the same way you tug at your necklace for comfort, waiting for your sobs to slow when he says "I'm all ears if you want to talk about it."

You should be wary, learn from your lesson, but instead of doing either of those, you find yourself being comfortable and safe around Eddie. That's how it all comes out, every detail from start to finish. How Nancy had asked you if you liked women after you drunkenly flirted with her at a party, to both of you confessing your feelings, to becoming official. You talk about being happy like you never had been before to finding out that she was a cheating scumbag.

Your relationship with Nancy had been so secret for the reason that she was the only person to every find out that you were bisexual, and here you were, spilling it all out to Eddie Munson, who you had never properly met before in your life.

The silence when you were done was astonishing.

You wiped the last of your tears away, finally taking a proper look at Eddie, who just passed you a cigarette, a look of shock on his face. You don't take the cigarette, so to fill in the silence, Eddie puts it to his lips, inhaling deeply, before letting the smoke disperse in the van. You watch the white vapour make shapes in the air, sighing. "Look, I get it." He says. "Well- I don't, but I once dated this dude who-" You looked up at him in surprise.

"You like guys?" And he only nodded, grinning widely and nudging you with his elbow. "Well look at that, we already have so much in common. You like girls, I like girls. You like dudes, I like dudes. Wow, we're just meant to be, aren't we?"

And it's the way he's smiling, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear to show off his dimples and his silver helix piercing that has you grinning shyly, making space on the small beanbag for him, where he joins you, and you finally snatch the cigarette from his lips to take a puff yourself.

It was the security of his friendship that made you so willing to be pulled into it. You were both vulnerable, but knew that neither of you would go around spreading each other's secret because you shared the same one. No one wanted to be outed to everyone they knew without even knowing so. Your friendship built up, became strong. He often sat on the bleachers writing something while you were at cheer practice, and he drove you home, cracking jokes with you in the car. You started talking to him in school, trodding along with him to your classes, and he became comfortable around your friends, joking around as though he was part of your friend group.

And eventually, he was.

Ignoring the odd looks people still gave you, you accepted the arm Eddie offered you, guiding you outside so he could have a smoke. "I have to say, sweetheart, you've made me quite popular." You laughed, shaking your head "You've always been pretty popular, Eddie." But he shook his head at you. "No, no, like people are liking me, openly inviting me to things. Including me in conversations. Hell, today someone even paired up with me in class. And here we thought our friendship would ruin your reputation." He plays his shock coolly, opting to tease you instead, as per usual. You shove him by the shoulder and he chuckles, watching as you jump up to sit on the hood of his van.

You squeal when you start to slip off, but Eddie only moves to stand between your legs, putting a hand on your thigh to help stabilise you. There's a moment of silence, and he looks in your eyes, as though looking for signs of discomfort, but he finds something more. Something good. You lick your lips, putting a hand on his shoulder and giggling. He joins you, turning his head so he can blow the smoke from his joint away from you, and he spots her.

Her. The one who broke your heart.

No matter the rare positive things he's heard about her from others, he can't help but hate her - can't force himself not to glare. You follow his gaze, scoffing at the sight. "I don't know why little band girl doesn't think she'll cheat on her too." You hum, agreeing with him, your free hand coming up to his jaw to turn his face towards you. "You just defending me Eddie?" You tease, head cocked to the side.

He shakes his head angrily, eyebrows furrowing, and he finally stumps out his joint on the floor. "No- I mean yeah but I'm honestly more annoyed sweetheart. Like honestly, everyone knows that if someone cheats on their partner to get with you, the same way that relationship ends is with them cheating on their new partner. No one can be that dumb!" He huffs, gathering his hair into a makeshift bun before letting it all go, looking around in search of his joint. When he realised he put it out, he curses, looking back at you who's smiling down at him.

You push a couple of stray strands of hair away from Eddie's eyes, leaning closer to him. He puts his hands on your thighs and you both hear the giggles of Nancy and her girlfriend, to which he rolls his eyes at. Your heart skips a beat when he does and you open your mouth before closing it shut again, deciding to finally show him how he makes you feel instead of saying anything.

You cup his jaw in your hands, leaning downwards to kiss him, and he immediately reciprocates it, his hands wandering from your thighs to grip your ass tightly. He pulls you closer to the edge of the hood of the van, humming into the kiss when you swipe your tongue against his bottom lip. He gives it to you, immediately deepening the kiss, and taking control by moving one of his hands to the back of your neck, not giving you the space to separate from him. It's all lips and tongue and hands on each other's bodies, that when you finally start to push against his chest to pull away, you're both panting.

You look down at him, wiping away the gloss on his lips with a smile. He does the same, trying to remove your smudged gloss with the pad of his thumb and failing, wiping the residue on his jeans. "Just saying, that kiss better have been for me, not for-" "It was. It was just for you." You reassure, pressing another soft kiss on his lips, only then looking up, realising Nancy and her friend stayed for the show. Eddie turns around, staring at the look of shock on their faces, and he cocks his head mockingly "What? You guys want some of this?" He points at you, a subtle hint to inform them that he knows the whole story.

Your eyes widen, and you grab the finger he uses to point at you, giggling in shock "Eddie!" You gasp, and he shrugs, still talking to Nancy mostly, as he's making direct eye contact with her. "I would want some of you if I were them too." And you both watch in surprise as Nancy's friend storms away angrily. Your eyes widen in shock and you watch as Eddie turns back around, looking slightly guilty, but mostly amused. "I kind of want to say I told you so."

You gasp at his careless tone, wrapping both your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you again. As you lean down to kiss him again, feeling his hands wander up your back, you start to hear wolf whistles.

"And there goes our moment" Mutters Eddie against your lips.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Anyway, serious topic (not really) I was thinking of making this into like a series. Like seeing how Eddie and reader overcome milestones in their relationship kind of and it follows this storyline of their relationship. Like with specifically this eddie and reader in mind. Lmk if you get what I mean or not

[imma-soft-beeboy]

A/N: By popular demand here is the Gravity Falls men (aka the Mystery Trio) caring for you while sick. Hope y'all enjoy!

📖 Stanford (Ford) 🖊

Clocks the moment you become sick, you don't have to tell him at all he can tell he's an observant scientist

Is immediately going into nurse mode

Some part of him doesn't wanna get sick & screams to avoid you. But the larger part of his brain screams to care for you

He just knows you're not gonna take this seriously (calm down Ford it's just a common cold) so of course he side with the half that insists that he take care of you

He starts you on a medicine schedule asap and makes sure you take it exactly as prescribed/needed

Monitors all your symptoms & body temperature to determine if you get better, worse, or the same

He has a very scientific approach to it but that doesn't mean he won't also introject some of his own childhood must-haves

"My mom always made me soup/broth" type stuff

And your bed rotting layout is royalty-worthy; he's propped up your head, has 50 million cozy blankets, and fuzzy socks & sweatpants. EVERYTHING!

Insists you nap & will find any way to make you do so (even if that means he slips you drowsy cold medicine vs the nondrowsy)

So far so good right? Sure. But if you puke or have nonstop nose drippage he's gone

He will NOT be holding your hair back or cleaning up your tissues. He WILL hand you a trash bin to do it yourself. (He cannot risk contact)

Also this whole time he's been caring for you but from a distance. No cuddles, no kisses, and always washes his hands immediately after interacting with you. He's doing everything short of wearing a mask (and don't tempt him cause he will go there)

All in all 7/10; he tries but he will not be getting sick so don't expect affection from him while sick

🥊 Stanley (Stan) 💵

Stan won't notice you're sick until it's obvious (cough, puking, runny nose flowing down your face)

Very basic care but he tries; he's so used to living out of his car/off bare bones so he kinda forgot "luxury sick items"

Unlike Ford he doesn't care about getting sick & will actually get close/be more personable with you

He'll bring you cold medicine & tissues before bundling you up, putting something on the tv & curling up with you

Please hold this man's hand and clearly explain everything you want him to do for you otherwise he'll be mostly clueless

He doesn't mind taking care of you he just doesn't know what to do, he's so used to toughing colds out personally (he's like a Sim with no input lol)

If you want food he'll ask you what you want. Takeout? Sure, he'll go get it right away. Soup? He's on it, trying his best to cook. (He's bad at cooking so don't expect much.)

You need your hair held back while you puke, for sure! But he's looking away. And don't even think about asking him to pick up your "snot rags" (he has to draw a line somewhere)

Honestly, he thinks cuddles, TLC, and cold medicine will fix everything so if you ask for too much he might start questioning why or if you're conning him into doing extra (so don't try to convince him to do your chores or give you foot rubs)

He's definitely sharing his fav drama films/chick flicks with you, he thinks they're a great way to pass time cause they make you stay put to rest but they also distract you

Laughs at your weird sneezes & other weird sick noises

He likes to bring you tea or soup when sick because he has vivid memories of his mom bringing him hot drinks/soups (much like Ford)

If you do fall asleep he will watch over you while you sleep and/or cuddle you during sleep

All together 8.5/10 he's very nice and cuddly with you but will not know how to help you at all until you explain to him how to

🪕 Fiddleford (Fidds) 🧰

He can tell you're sick like a sixth sense (not scientific like Ford but just he can tell you're not yourself)

Immediately starts taking care of you & builds you a sick nest

"The Nest" is complete with tissues, a trashcan/puke bucket, millions of soft blankets & pillows, TV access with the remote nearby, phone + charger. (Optional: heated blanket, heating pad, snacks, etc. Honestly, anything you want he'll get.)

He'll check in on your regularly but not in the annoying nurse way Ford does & he'll make sure you take cold medicine as needed

He'll fetch you anything & fuss over you. Need your head propped up? Feet rubbed? Cold compress? Food? Drinks?

He'll cuddle you and curl up with you all you want

Hair will be pulled back while you puke and all dirty tissues will be picked up

Fidds doesn't care if he gets sick, you getting better is his main priority (plus if he gets sick he trusts you'll care for him the same)

Do you want tea? It's made EXACTLY how you like it. Soup? Absolutely! Takeout? He's on it!

He will encourage you to sleep & if you don't wanna or can't he'll do anything to help you drift off. Play you his banjo & sing to you. Cuddle you. Anything!

He worries for you & just wants to see you better okay?!

He knows a bunch of country/hillbilly cures, and recites wives tales to himself to ensure he tries all the tricks

That means get ready for: molasses on a spoon, ginger and lemon water, avoiding dairy, cold compresses for fevers, Vicks VapRub to the chest

While these things might help with your symptoms, none of these are gonna cure you; but he swears by them

He'll tell you stories about his childhood & family to keep you busy or put a smile on your face

Hope you enjoy him hovering cause he's not going away until you are better. He can and will sleep on the floor if he has to.

10/10 he's legit the cutest & is at your whim while you are sick (please be kind to him he's too pure)

[dynamicccsworld]

Why Little Shop of Horrors may parallel some things in Wills life, and some events in ST.

Spoilers for Little Shop Of Horrors, duh. (And I'm Making this literally only because of Will's poster, lol)

First of all, the ending. In the original Little Shop of Horrors, Audrey II takes over the world, killing off all of humanity.

However, In the other ending featured in the theatrical release, instead features a good ending where Audrey ll is defeated and Seymour and Audrey get to live together happily.

Now, after thinking about this for a while I came to the conclusion this is something that could happen in Stranger Things. For example, swap Audrey II with Vecna.

Imagine the "bad ending" is what Vecna is going to make people see, instead of what actually happens. This also would go along with Nancy's season 4 vision.

And the the good ending could be what really happens at the end of ST. (And instead of it being Audrey and Seymour living happily together, it's Will and Mike.)

Second of all, the theme of ST. Now, one of Stranger Things's themes is about outcasts/ being different.

Although the themes for both media are different; Seymour is shown to be a outcast at the very beginning of LSoH.

Seymour is a outcast until he becomes popular after getting Audrey ll.

If something were to be taken from it and put into ST; it would likely show a character going from a outcast to a hero.

Third of all, let's go back to the first release.

Audrey sacrifices herself by asking Seymour to feed her to Audrey II, because she believes it is the only way to ensure Seymour's success and well, happiness.

And since this whole rant is about parallels, this could parallel Eddie in Season 4.

Or.. imagine if this means a certain someone will sacrifice themselves to Vecna to protect one of the members of the party. I could definitely see Will sacrificing himself, but somebody stopping him. This would be in character considering that Will has been shown to be self sacrificial before, and I wouldn't doubt the show would showcase this aspect of his character again.

And lastly, the songs.

Skid Row:

• Seymour talks about Mushnik's mistreatment of himself, which may parallel Lonnie.

"Poor! All my life I've always been poor."

The Byers are constantly stated to have money problems

"He took me in, gave me shelter, a bed, Crust of bread and a job. Treats me like dirt, calls me a slob."

Seymour dreams about leaving Skid Row, claiming if he doesn't he'll rot there.

"Someone gimme my shot or I'll rot here."

The general outlook of Skid Row by its residents is negative; which is the same outlook some of the characters have of Hawkins.

This could foreshadow members of the party moving out of Hawkins in the show. (Which would also be similar to IT; which Stranger things is inspired by.)

(No lyrics for this, quite literally because the whole song is about people disliking living in Skid Row.)

Da-Doo:

•Not much I could see that would parallel in this song, other than Audrey ll being described as something from another world the first time Seymour sees it.

"And there was this strange humming sound, Like something from another world"

This could parallel Will's first time seeing the Demogorgan, I guess.

Suppertime:

•I originally thought Suppertime wouldn't have anything that could be shown in stranger things, but alas I was pretty wrong.

"He knows just what you've done."

Perhaps Mike knowing about what Will was going through in Season 2. Mike knew Will was a Spy, Mike knew what Will had did.

"You've got no place to hide. You've got nowhere to run. " Parallels Season one, quite obviously.

Audrey II taunting Seymour about his feelings for Audrey may mean Vecna will taunt Will for his feelings for Mike in a similar way in S5.

Also, Suppertime is a song which happens when Mr. Mushnik tries to find Seymour guilty of killing Orin. It ends when Seymour causes the death of Mr Musinik by leading him to Audrey II.

This has faint parallels to Season 2; when Will was being possessed by the mind flayer, which caused Bobs death.

Mean Green Mother:

•Nothing at the moment sticks out to me, but I feel it definitely could parallel how Vecna treats Will in the future?

Also another green reference.

Prologue:

•Do I even have to say it? Id say a lot of the words in the prologue song match up with Wills life.

"Tellin' you, you better, Tell your mama, Something's gonna get her. "

Directly parallels Will telling Joyce to run with the Christmas lights.

And as Noah stated, Will will be protecting Joyce more in S5.

"Call a Cop"

Cough cough, Hopper.

"Ooh, hit the dirt, baby."

When Will first sees the Demogorgan, he bikes into the dirt.

"Something's comin' down, down the street for you!" When Will first sees the Demogorgan, it's on the street.

Somewhere That's Green:

•I don't think most of the lyrics here mean anything, but..

"And I dream of a place, Where we could be together at last"

Will probably dreams of a world where he can be supported for being queer, a world where him and Mike could be together.

"As the sun sets in the west"

Yellow and Blue meet in the west.

"Far from Skid Row, I dream we'll go, Somewhere that's green."

Once again, I don't think anyone in the party wants to stay in Hawkins forever. That's just my perspective though.

Also, Blue + Yellow = Green

Suddenly, Seymour:

•Self explanatory.

"Suddenly, Seymour is here to provide you."

"Sweet understanding, Seymour's your friend"

The song is about how Seymour treats Audrey, which could parallel how Mike treats Will, or vise versa.

"Nobody else treated me kindly. Daddy left early, Mama was poor"

Well, this is obviously a parallel. The Byers are definitely far from wealthy, and Lonnie did leave. And Will has stated before that Mike is the only one that doesn't coddle him.

"Please understand that it's still strange and frightening"

Having queer feelings in the 80s/90s along with the whole UD thing is pretty frightening.

Feed Me Seymour:

•Could possibly foreshadow Vecna trying to manipulate Will into joining him, but that's a big stretch.

But the most likely parallel is it could be representative of the Mind Flayer in Will's mind in Season Two.

In LSoH, Audrey II quite literally manipulates Seymour in a way. The only reason Seymour killed Mushnik and Orin was because of Audrey II.

Which lines up with Will saying "He made me do it" in Season Two; and the death of Bob which was directly the fault of The Mindflayers influence.

(Also, the whole Feed Me narrative can be viewed as how Will fed the Mind Flayer information.)

The Meek Shall Inherit:

•As I stated before, this song could parallel a member of the party becoming famous. Other than that, not much else can be said.

"And you're a meek little guy"

Meek; an attitude or quality of heart whereby a person is willing to accept and submit without resistance to the will and desire of someone else.

Sound familiar?

Grow For Me:

•Doesn't seem to have any parallels to Will, but it's similar to the whole Dustin & Dart arc.

Some Fun Now:

•Alot of explosive talk, and there's been a lot of fire/explosives in ST.

"Then he lit a fuse and give him room."

"He started an explosion, holy cow!"

"That thing went bang, kaboom"

However, I would say the most likely thing this could parallel in Will's life would be the fireworks used in Season Three to defeat the Mind Flayer.

Conclusion..

I feel like LSoH has many similarities to Will's life, and there could be even more in S5.

But, who knows! These could all just be coincidences and I'm just looking too far into it.

Most of these are probably not on purpose, and a lot of these are probably stretches.. but I had fun making this and that's all that matters.