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pepto-bismolfan · 12 days ago

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Alright Avatar babies- heres my 80s fanfiction

Okay so I wrote this in a couple hours so it's not the best?? also its a part one and kinda just sets up somethings..... idk enjoy my slop also I call midnight by her real name of Ariel lol

Briar was actually going to kill her next door neighbor. What at seven pm on Wednesday night could be so thrilling that it would cause her to yell? Not once, had it been once Briar would have simply been concerned; but four fucking times. When she moved to upstate New York she assumed that the days of hitting the wall to silence her neighbors were long behind her. Unfortunately, even the small town of Arneson had the problem of loud, annoying neighbors.

Pressing her ear to the wall she tried to figure out what was even going on. It sounded like there were a few other people in the neighboring apartment. Briar had assumed that her neighbor lived alone. Ariel had been sweet when Briar moved in a week ago, offering to show her around town. While Briar had put a rain check on the offer as she was still getting settled, she had appreciated it. The two women spoke a few times after that. Briar had learned that she was a librarian working at the local library and that she had moved to town about a year ago. While Briar was a few years older than, she had found the young woman interesting. In Fact she had begun to formulate a plan to get to know her better over coffee.

“NO!” an anguished cry was barely muffled by the thin walls followed by laughter from the others. Briar was growing increasingly frustrated. It’s a week night for Christ sake! She lamented in her head. Stacks of paper still sat on her desk, papers about changing her address, applying for a NY driver’s license and some work forms that her boss had given her. If this racket continued there was no way she would have time to go through the papers, make herself dinner, shower, do her nightly routine, and then go to sleep. Enough was enough Briar opened her front door, trying to hide her irritation on her face. She knocked on the door a bit more forcefully than she had intended, her knuckles stinging from the impact.

A few murmurs sounded in the room before she heard a chair being pushed back and then the approaching sound of feet. Be kind Briar, she's a few years younger, probably has a few girls over and they're having fun. You remember what that’s like right? Briar licked her teeth as she tried to prevent herself from blowing up at the young woman and her friends. She was still new in town and it wouldn’t go over well if she accosted someone a week into moving. Finally she heard a click and the door opened.

“Ariel I understand that-” she cut herself off as instead of the dark haired woman opening the door, a man did. In fact a quite strange looking man did, he looked older than Ariel though that might have been due to his gaunt features and crows feet. The man also looked surprised to see Briar knocking at the door, his dark eyebrows raised in surprise. Before either of them spoke Ariel's voice broke through the silence.

Leaning back from her dining room chair she peers past the man looking out into the hallway.

“Hey Cyric I have more cash if the pizza guy doesn’t have… ” she caught sight of the annoyed looking Briar, “...change” her voice cracked. Briar watched from behind the man as Ariel pushed herself out of the chair and jogged over to the door.

“Oh my god, Briar, sorry we were being loud! I know it’s just that we're playing and you know it gets so exciting and-” Briar cut the raven haired woman off with a raise of her hand.

“Please just keep it down” her voice was exasperated. She really didn’t have time or energy to listen to the woman's whole spiel. The man, who she guessed was called Cyric, was still standing in front of her. He was looking uncomfortable at being in between the two women and caught Briars eye for a moment before moving back inwards. Her eyes followed him studying the man.

As he moved back the door opened more and she could see three other men sitting at the table. Behind a large folder sat an older man with a beard, Briar swore she had seen the man walking around town before, but she didn’t know exactly who he was. The man to his right was probably about Ariel's age, he had sandy blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and was looking at the situation before him with an concerned but interested look. Then across from him was a large man who was ignoring the whole situation and instead had a focused look on his face as he stared at the table. He rubbed his stubbly chin as he furrowed his brows. The table itself confused Briar as it had papers and pencils strewn across it along with what looked like little figurines. Briar raised an eyebrow at Ariel.

“What is this?” Briar asked, her eyebrow still raised.

Ariel moved closer to Briar, clearly noticing her bewildered look. The woman clasped her hands in an anxious way that made Briar feel like she had just found the woman in bed with someone. Briar pinched the bridge of her nose and cursed herself for even knocking, she hadn’t wanted the woman to feel embarrassed or like she had done anything egregious especially in her own apartment.

“We’re playing Dungeons and Dragons…” Ariel said a bit shyly which was out of character for the usual confident demeanor the woman had. Briar’s eyebrow stayed raised as Ariel spoke. Dungeons and Dragons was something she had only heard poor things about on the news. Though, working in politics she knew how dishonest the news could be. The first thing that came to mind was devil worshiping and sacrificing virgins. Though looking at the people in the room none of them seemed like it would be something they’d enjoy, though maybe the dark haired one would. Speaking of which, Briar noticed that when Ariel had spoken Cyrics cheeks had tinged as if being associated with the game was embarrassing to him. Considering his age she did think it was strange to be playing games. I mean what were they, children?

“I see… well keep it down if you could I have work in the morning” Briar stated as she crossed her arms. Her gaze shifted and hardened as she looked at the men. For a woman she could excuse the loudness, especially considering that she at least knew Ariel, but these men she had no idea who they were or what they were like. The younger blonde one piped up.

“We’ll keep it down!” he said happily but loudly, Cyric who was now seated next to the man kicked his leg and gave him a look. “Sorry… we’ll keep it down” he said now in a quieter tone as he rubbed his leg. The older man at the table gave Briar a warm smile and waved.

“Sorry miss, we will keep you in mind during our adventure, but please forgive these welps I am not making it easy for them. You see poor Kelemvor over here was just dealt a massive blow from a bandit, poor fellow, and young Adon doesn’t have any more healing spells left for the day. The man’s fate is with the gods now” The old man grinned and patted the larger man's shoulder mockingly. Kelemvor grumbled and rolled his eyes, not amused by the old man's droning. Clearly the older man was in control of whatever was going on and seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Uh huh” Briar was confused both by his tone and the words. Spells? Gods? Maybe the game was demonic but right now she didn’t care if Satan himself was summoned in the apartment, she just wanted quiet. She pinched her brow again before she sighed and waved her hands, dismissing her confusion and annoyance.

“Alright well… good luck I suppose? Goodnight Ariel and others”. The blonde man, who was being angrily whispered to by Cyric, leaned over and waved to Briar a happy smile on his face. Cyric, annoyed by the gesture, pinched his own brow and muttered something under his breath. Kelemvor, still trying to figure out how he was going to recover, didn't notice or maybe didn’t care about the woman's goodnight. The older man with a flamboyant gesture of his hand said

“Goodnight Fair lady”

Briar resisted rolling her eyes as best she could and gave a polite smile. Ariel, who was now redder than Briars' turtleneck, pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Goodnight Briar, uh again sorry… please don’t tell the landlord he’s been on my case all month”. Briar smiled and waved dismissively as she headed back towards her door. A sigh of relief was all she heard as Ariel shut the door.

Back in the apartment Ariel’s personality did a complete flip her calm and passive behaviors gone as she whipped around to the men. Elminster, who had been the one to invite himself and the others to Ariel's apartment, grimaced at her face.

“Gee, thanks everyone for being so helpful with that” she said bitterly as she sat back down next to Kelemvor, “You know one of you guys could have said something at least… you're only at MY apartment annoying MY neighbors”

“Hey! Well, I tried!” Adon said pleadingly, gesturing with both of his hands in the air.

“You’re the reason she was even here Adon, this isn’t real there's no need to yell. Besides, you weren’t even the one to get hurt!” Cyric hissed as he scowled at Adon.

“OH, I don’t want to hear anything from you Cyric, the reason we can’t go to the community center anymore is because someone kept scamming the vending machines” Adon retorted, taking a sip of his soda.

“That was an overreaction on their part, it was a few times besides the people of this town could do with less junk” Cyric said rolling his eyes.

“Enough, let's get back to the game” Kelemvor said gruffly as he cracked his fingers. Clearly, he didn’t care about Adon and Cyrics squabble nor about Ariel's concerns regarding her neighbor. Before Ariel could tear into him and before Cyric and Adon could come to blows Elminster spoke up.

“Alright, Alright children” Everyone winced at that remark. The youngest people here were twenty five and nowhere close to children. Though maybe compared to him they were.

“Let's finish this encounter, eat, and then we can all fight but preferably quietly if only for the sake of the young lady” he said sternly.

Settling back down at her desk Briar started on her forms again. As she filled in the monotony that the DMV wanted, she felt her thoughts drawn to the room over. Ariel had seemed normal to her on first inspection. She dressed normally, teased her hair a bit too much but she supposed that was in style. Briar assumed that anyone who would play such a strange thing would have to be in turn… well strange! Like that old man! But she had been taught looks were deceiving and if Ariel was a bit strange, who was she to judge. Briar had her own quirks but then again, she would never be caught dead playing such a strange game or having four strange men in her home. Her pen slid a bit too much as she signed her name on another sign here line, ugh this will take forever if I don’t focus, she thought.

The rest of the night passed smoothly, soon enough her forms were filled. Her dinner was cooked and then eaten. Her hair was washed and body cleaned, and she was in bed now. Alone… again… she had spent another night alone with no friends and no conversation save for her strange interaction with Ariel and the weirdos. With her hands in her face, she sighed as she thought about seeing Ariel again. Well at least I have some leverage on her for the coffee plan she thought.

#dnd #the avatar series dnd #the forgotten realms #80s au #kelemvor #adon #cyric #midnight #aka Ariel #elminster my boi #Please enjoy my OC briar lol she is so tired and so weirded out #briar rose #uhhh yeah #fanfic #first time writing something creative in a while so let me know how I did

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imaginespazzi · 2 months ago

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Happy Wednesday Bestie!

Cant blame your priorities there haha. Thanksgiving is so short + job keeps me away from fam then, but Im always home for XMas. And let me tell you, its always almost solely comprised of overeating and drunkenness w my sibling and cousins. Theres nothing better!

Lol I couldnt help myself w the vindication there.. semi related how cute was the vid of P giving the team her Nike gear? Now I only saw highlights of last nights UConn game (sounds like the way to go for this one tbf), but word on these streets is that Azzi and perhaps Paige were battling illness last night. Honestly my first and primary thought was ~Calling Katie Fudd, calling Katie Fudd. You are needed immediately to chase down Paige Bueckers and force her to take buried treasure immunity booster. #YoureSleepingWithHer.~

Texas/WVU the other day was really quite entertaining. Also Rori Harmon was on the 'Sometimes I Hoop' podcast and it was a good ep! Otherwise all I can really speak to being aware of is some Southern Cal stat padding last night (no shade, just seems to be the case). Plenty of good action ahead this week, Im excited 🙌.

So Im glad we agree, its settled then, considering it just means bad mojo for wbb couples and top team performances - the Caymans tourneys are to be avoided from here on out! Honestly Baha Mar is such a nice vibe, Im happy for all teams that ended up there. Oh and Im a bit jealous of the UConn girls getting to swim w pigs on the trip, even despite what happened to blondie. 😅😅 Fully onboard with the stray you threw there!

Yup interesting but at this point predictable (per lore) for Liz & Georgia. While it may be understandable, it makes me a bit sad for them though. Like given how much of that accomplishment/# she was a part of, its unfortunate they dont seem to be a point where they can publicly celebrate each other.

Til next time! Take care,

-☕️

Happy Sunday babes!!!

My streaks of replying on the same day is over I fear....but ah well better late than never.

Also I just assumed this was you cause you always send me moments and I appreciate it! If it was someone else, well I appreciate you too!

Ah you and I are on the same wavelength cause when I heard about the illness, the YOUR'RE SLEEPING WITH HER was absolutely the first thing that ran through my mind as well.

Well ND has definitely bounced back and I wasn't quite as impressed with Texas vs WV and their game against ND showed me a little bit why, because that OT was egregious. Speaking of bouncing back, SC absolutely dismantling ranked teams one by one.

Ah Liz and Georgia...what could have been <3

There's been some good WBB games but I fear my mind is just so occupied with Azzi right now and that's all I can think about and even the cute little jumbotron moments aren't giving me as much happiness as they normally would.

#ask #☕️ anon my love <3 #thank you for being so patient with my late ass replies

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krankittoeleven · 2 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

Hey-o, I come with a snippet from Water of Life chapter 11 which is coming along, albeit slowly. But that's not really news, is it? LOL Anyway, this is a scene between Vili & Ivarr with them being absolute children in Ubba's absence. It's rough around the edges still, but it's been a while since I posted anything so I thought why not...

“Well, you are no master strategist,” Ivarr says with a flippant flick of one hand, before bending over to pick up his axe from the mud.

“Hey, you’re the one who invited me into your war tent back in East Anglia.”

A sudden silence seems to fall around them and even all the sounds of nature seem to pause in anticipation.

Ivarr stares back at him, his face stonelike in its stillness, except for the blink of his eyes and the almost imperceptible beginnings of a sardonic smile on his lips.

“You still think that’s why you were there?” Ivarr asks and Vili can sense the outburst that is building within Ivarr. Even the impending threat of Ivarr’s cackle is enough to cause Vili’s entire body to tense. The sound of his laughter was like fingernails scraping along stone the moment before you lost your grip and fell to your death. If laughter could kill, Ivarr’s surely would.

“You think that with all of the great vikingr we had assembled there, that we were just waiting for you to impart us with your wisdom.”

Vili can feel the heat rising on his face.

“Well, truthfully, no I didn’t,” he replies, his anger and embarrassment rising along with the volume of his voice. “But why else would you invite me there?”

Now Ivarr is really cackling.

“Look, I had pissed Ubba off a couple days before that meeting, and I was just trying to smooth things over and I mentioned I thought you seemed interested an—”

“Wait, you what?” Vili iturrupts, indignant. “How in the name of Odin’s fucking eye socket did you know I was interested in Ubba? I didn’t even know I was interested in Ubba at that point, I don’t think.”

Ivarr’s nearly doubles over with the intensity of his laughter.

“Oh please, you left puddles of drool the size of the North Fucking Sea every time you were near him. How was I supposed to know he’d invite you to that meeting like it was an audition?”

Vili has no idea how to respond to anything Ivarr had just told him, but it was starting to make an embarrassing amount of sense in his head now that he knew. Ivarr’s remark on the battlefield, Ubba’s lingering hand after the meeting, the night at the campfire not long after, the way Ubba had said he often left out a drink for him in anticipation of his arrival.

“I—” Vili starts, but he has no idea how to finish or continue. Ubba knew, and he didn’t.

“It’s too bad you can’t see yourself now,” Ivarr says through his diminishing laughter.

Unable to form words, Vili just stares and fumes in Ivarr’s continually vexing presence until he balls his hands into fists, rests them on his hips and strikes a mocking pose. It doesn’t take long for Vili to realize that Ivarr is performing a fairly accurate mockery of Ubba when he is irritated by his brother’s antics.

Vili looks down at his own fists resting on his hips and quickly slaps his arms down along the length of his body.

“Loki’s fucking balls, may Odin curse the day Ragnar fucked your mom and created you!”

Ivarr’s cackle ramps up again and Vili can’t help but wish that the elk had actually killed him and saved him all of this.

“Hate me or thank me, I don’t care which,” Ivarr says as he walks by, clapping him on the back as he passes, “I’m going back to camp, we’re sitting ducks here yelling at each other.”

#i apologize in advance to odin's eye socket #(boy that's a tag)#seriously #they are like children when left alone XD #*I* think this is hilarious #ymmv lol #vili #ivarr #water of life #wip wednesday #my wips #my snippets

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calmingpi · 2 years ago

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Some more hall of tuesday stuff~

Specifically, some thought processes and concepts. Yes, I know its Wednesday, but I got too tired + didn't feel well last night to type all this out

I'm noting the design process of this one, because while writing a Tarvek thing the other day it occurred to me that I have a habit of getting attached to characters that follow some philosophies that have become attached to lolita fashion- the dislike of ones true personality, using consumerism and extravagant tastes to fill a metaphorical hole, hiding negative traits beneath literal layers of cute clothing, presenting a personality thats within specific ideals of elegance and refinement, the concept of feminine androgyny, etc

Tuesday the first

Anyway, this outfit was inspired by Baby The Stars Shine Bright

Streamer Tarvek

I can't even possibly explain why i drew this to begin with, partly because i dont actually remember. But i love this au SO much. I wrote a whole bunch of these that i never ended up finishing. Heres a couple of them

Tarveks streams are not gamer related; its more of a commentary stream but really he talks about whatever he wants. Often hes prompted by questions from the viewers, that causes him to go on extreme tangents about whatever. History, politics, pop culture, math, literally whatever. It's also not a popular stream in the grand scheme of things. He doesnt market or promote this thing at all, but he has a small and very dedicated fanbase of very strange people. In general tarvek likes having an audience and not having to act really put together and refined. Instead he can infodump to strangers and not worry about impressing people too much. And he can wear cat ears and feel only a little bit silly instead of a lot

Girl Watching With Colette

Tarvek is married to agatha and gil in this, which i believe ive mentioned, and i think ive also mentioned that he pretends the stream doesnt exist to them. They dont bother him about it, but they do watch it and regularly comment. I think hes just embarrassed about having a goofy internet outlet, and they just really love watching him excitedly talk about his interests

This was another one from the original prompt list, called "girl watching with Colette." They're sitting at a little teahouse, i think. There's a sequel prompt called "Gil watching with Colette," where Tarvek is holding a large pair of binoculars and absolutely SEETHING with anger while Colette is laughing. Otherwise exactly the same setting

Unforgiven

Before this blog, one of my first Tarvek drawings is a picture of him dressed as Nayeon from Twice. I also remember a picture I did of Lars in a Love Dive inspired outfit being complimented a lot on here, lol.

Anyway, this one was inspired by the concept photos for Unforgiven by Llesserafim. I think concept photos are a really cool form of art in general. Art direction. Needs more recognition, really!

This one was based off the "fallen angel" style of photos they did, but they also have this weird "office cowboy" style of photos? From the same album? I have no idea what that was about, but it's really funny to me. There's a horse loose in the office space. He's using the copier. I didn't know he knew how to do that. Anyway, maybe I should do an office cowboy Tarvek, too. Ive drawn him as a cowboy before, and it was really fun

I Still Feel Alive

This is actually my favorite tuesday, which is funny cause it was just coloring practice, really. But my favorite bit is really all the just. Amount of stuff i shoved in there. We're on castle wulfenbach, hes been stabbed and poisoned (dw about it), hes drinking the vaccine gil made from his notes, weve got his favorite clank girls (which by the way i unfortunately love that we have tinka without a head and anevka without a body), his weasels of course, agathas portrait (because whos office is this, really?), we've got the portal to the eldritch monster dimension out the window there, and an apple tree!

I drew Tarvek with a lot of apple themes for a while, as a reference to his condescending snake description. Its kind of funny 2 me to think of agatha and gil as adam and eve (dont ask which is which. I dont think it particularly matters, tbh), and tarvek as the evil snake, because i think its exactly how hed see himself really. Whether hes actually an evil snake or not. Token evil teammate, awful seductress, yadda yadda yadda. Really, aggie and gil arent innocent either, which makes it funnier 2 me

Godqueen

I really love the idea of tarvek as a godqueen (or godking, i just think godqueen suits him better) because he was originally supposed to be killed off in sturmhalten. He could always still be killed off, which would be very disappointing because i think we would have wasted a lot of time then. Or he could live and things would be as expected. Or we could go the funnier route and make him literally immortal. That would be hilarious to me!

Also, im pretty sure gils going to be storm king. And with agatha as the heterodyne + probably a godqueen, and gil as storm king and the only one whos graduated college, i believe tarvek should be allowed a little immortality. Or maybe financial compensation. As a treat. Make it harder for bang to bully him

Looks wise, godqueen tarvek is based on what he keeps shoving agatha in (sidenote: that is NOT anevkas dress. Can you even imagine her in that? That is his dress. I dont think he wore it, but its definitely tarveks). When it comes to dresses i always put tarvek in something really flowy and needlessly gaudy. But suits and pants should be a tighter fit. A lot of the design inspo is wizard of oz based, particularly ozma. In a lot of illustrations she wears these very loose fitting gowns, and often very simple crowns and a few specifically placed flowers

His crown is also little storm clouds. If gil was a godking hed have little lightning bolts, but i think gil shouldnt be a godking. He can already lift tanks. But if he was, hed have little lightning bolts. Theyd match!

Tuesday Anniversary

First of all, i love painting. Like i love it SO much. Ok, cool

I wanted Agatha in the picture right off the bat, but originally I was going to draw them dancing at Albias ball. I drew this, discovered i drew them facing the wrong way, scrapped it, and then crab anons drink got spilled on them, so it was not meant to be. Also, frankly, i think the impact would have been all wrong. I wanted a kind of "what tarvek wished had happened" kind of thing and instead i think it just keeps bringing back how gil and aggie danced together. And really i wanted something special for just agatha and tarvek, since i tend to do so much gil shipping with them. Its been a while where ive drawn them something of their own

So i kept thinking about tarvek and agatha ideals, from his perspective. I went back to his "when im an evil overload and agatha is my sexy dark mistress" idea, but decided to go for a more likely scenario. So this is sometime in the future, and hes happy being able to walk her down the hall for whatever it is theyre doing. Theyre in Castle of course (with the little wall hangings from the game! I love those), and shes let him dress her up in one of his flowy dresses. His outfits still really similar to the one from the ball, which is also really similar to the one from sturmhalten. I think its just a design choice he likes, so i kept that up. Agatha also has two rings, because this is a moment to themselves but theyll never stop loving gil, really

#hall of tuesday

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the-firebird69 · 4 months ago

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We use this Trump tries to get our son in trouble. They resist for now we help. He helped out a bit was winded and oxygenated. Had lots of sputum snot yesterday. A lot came out. At the bank.

They thanked him for it later heard it. Then oh you and tons of it. Wow they said obsessed children were screwed too, it is true.

All sent well. Transitioned. Checks in the bank. Tommy f tries stopping them. Nope. Tommorow MB to Publix. Could use it or breakfast

Today he was irradiatrd a lot. Should bring him to 32% tonight a bit lower than expected. Tonight in turn he will drop by the a.m. to 30% and be on target. A bit ahead. In or out tomorrow night it softens. Should be noticable. Here in PC the RADS 8.3 to 8.7 for the next few days. In or outside. Too high to change most things will be left hot. Soft woods lose it near the sea other stuff nope. Half rad only higher than Babcock until Monday. At that time it will rise here to 8.6-9.35 a huge leap. Yes. ALmost ten rad Monday Tuesday Wednesday. Wednesday he'll be outside again. Exposed. But at about 10.1 in PG. They will feel slumpey Gross weak. Will juice he'll feel good might eat better. Sm place he says. Mb fish n chips. Alas if the checks arrive he's in a taxi. Yup. He will be well over 11743 Tommy f says he doesn't care. Stan does yuk. It approaches that time he says he does it. And for cause. It begins tonight.

Thor Freya

Olympus

Ken loved the movie my husband said animal abuse he laughed it is but he's always hurt. He kills Dennis. In prophecy. But Ken didn't know that hehe. We use it. He smiles good a bear movie they don't respect anyone anything they will lol

My husband said no md fun of it then real was upset later prophecy evil men. He heals but is upset. Has happened yesterday but no had his face. Felt gross. Eat Ben like the wind. Found fish and more good. We helped and our of Florida jungle. Alive he smiled good son. Felt the warmth. Went to the pen on its nice he said on my own I'm in trouble. Saw it and who

But ok

Thor Freya

Olympus

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andthebubbles · 10 months ago

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anthony being so pathetic and/or dramatic in baby you're a haunted house by spit-kitten (simon/anthony):

ch 1:

White’s. Wednesday. Well into the evening. Anthony had been staring blankly at the lively jostle of the club for what could have been hours, only breaking off occasionally to stare into his glass of beer instead and wonder whether, if he only tried hard enough, he might drown himself in it. He could not decide whether he was happy to be drawn forth, blinking, from the clinging depths of his melancholy or fiercely resentful of the intrusion, of the rude reminder of his name - right when he had been so tenaciously endeavouring to forget that Anthony Bridgerton existed.

He returned to his beer, killed the glass before it could kill him, then made a motion to summon another: perhaps this one would have better luck and finish him off. Perhaps he would have better luck, and be finished off.

But Simon - usually quite content to cede the floor - seemed resolutely, heartily unwilling to listen. 'Oh, come. Are you not always telling me about your surplus of brothers? Let Benedict manage the estate for a couple of weeks; he wants the practise if you intend to begin throwing yourself into duels at the first sign of trouble - yes, you ass, your sister told me of your frankly disconcerting eagerness to go and get yourself shot by Nigel Berbrooke.'

It was settled, happening, before Anthony even truly had a moment to think on it - and then he did not have a moment to think on anything but it for the next two days. He was so busy filling his traveling trunk and making ready to leave the estate in Benedict's somewhat diffident hands that he barely found ten minutes at a time to stare disconsolately out of windows and sigh.

In fact, upon sober reflection, he was beginning to suspect that this was why Simon had made the invitation at all - that he was trying to give Anthony some privacy in which to lick his wounds before he launched back into the fray - and he was pitifully grateful for his friend's underhanded kindness. Simon was the only person with any solid idea of what had passed on that cursed final night of the season, had been determined to have it out of Anthony: he knew why he had been made to suffer through Daphne's triumphant first ball as a princess quite alone, performing heartache for the benefit of the ton while Anthony blankly nursed the real thing at home.

'I bow to your judgement entirely on the matter,' he had said instead, with as natural a smile as he could manage, and had withdrawn to find somewhere quiet where he could stare at a wall for a while and think of as little as possible, leaving her to her machinations.

Though the extremity of his brother's emotion was touching, his little grip bordered on choking and Anthony's patience had its limits - but before he was compelled either to cause upset by resorting to force or to submit to kneeling on the driveway until he collapsed in a faint, he found that he had been released from his brother's fond embraces; or that somebody had released him, by the simple action of hoisting Gregory into the air and bearing him away, and he was so relieved to be at liberty again that it was only once he was standing and brushing away the gravel embedded in his knee that he realised it was Simon who had set him free.

(not sure about this one, but yolo self-loathing (and there was plenty more before this too (like at the end of lots of paragraphs lol))

A final fond embrace for his mother and a clasp of Benedict's arm and they were off, Grosvenor Square and assembled Bridgertons receding into the distance behind them. And Anthony was sensible of an unworthy wave of relief rushing through him, stronger and more whole-hearted than he had ever felt upon quitting his family before. God, he was a wretch.

ch 2:

'Now you are sounding like that housemaster in the third form who wouldn't let us leave class until we'd correctly reeled off our declensions,' he replied. His voice sounded husky in the still air of the hall. ‘Do warn me if the likeness extends any further and you begin to be seized by the urge to hurl chalk at my head.'

Simon laughed and released him. 'Happier days,' he said, wryly, and took a drink from the bottle that he had cleverly thought to bring with him. Truly, Simon was a genius about such things. 'Warnings never used to do you much good back then: I suppose you thought it dishonourable to duck. It is a wonder you never lost an eye.’

'Rather risk an eye than learn my declensions,' Anthony said to win an indulgent laugh, and was gratified. 'I have a spare, after all.'

He began to regret drinking quite so much: he was acutely aware, suddenly, of the quickening of his blood and the slowing of his wits – of a dull, thudding certainty that no matter how he tried, he would be unable to keep any mask of propriety from slipping and exposing the poor player underneath. Just Anthony, flushed and erring. Failing to measure up, again.

Well. It had been a couple of days since he’d indulged in that sort of self-flagellation, too caught up in Simon’s affairs and buoyed up by his company. Another strike against the demon drink.

Perhaps he should have tried again, turned to friendly violence for his fill of human contact rather than looking for it wrapped up in love. He might have been happy with bruised ribs and bloodied knuckles, without ever putting his heart to the hazard. Perhaps he could have won his broken nose that way: no matter how much it would have grieved his mother, surely she would have chosen it over his ... inconvenient infatuation.

But the whole thing had simply never seemed to hold the same appeal without Simon, without the quickening effect of his gleeful criticism and his lighting-strike smile.

Now the hushed atmosphere of the stables was exploded by laughter and the sound of their boots scuffling against the paving as they jabbed at each other without ire. A right cross whistled past Anthony's ear and he ducked away with a grin, inordinately pleased with himself for successfully convincing Simon to humour him. Absurd that his spirit should rejoice so fondly at the sight of the very move that had knocked him against the ropes so many times. But it was so. One glance at the cheerful fire in Simon's proud eyes, at the goading arch of his eyebrow as he beckoned his opponent to back into the fray, and it was as though they were in the college ring again – chalk dust floating in the sunbeams and the promise of a long Wednesday afternoon stretching out lazily ahead of them, with no duty owing but to amuse each other.

He had been brought face to unbearable face with the extent of his own foolishness and mistaken self-regard, forced to recognise that all this time - while he had been flattering himself that Simon preferred his companionship to that of most others, deceiving himself that he might even deem Anthony worthy of some respect, spending years feeling a pathetic wash of cheer and security when Simon walked into a room - all this time his great friend had not cared for him at all. Simon could happily throw off their years of friendship in exchange for the most fleeting kind of amusement. He could toy with poor Daphne for absolutely no gain, all the time knowing of Anthony’s obligations to and affection for his sisters, knowing that he would share equally in the pain or embarrassment suffered by any one of them - and never caring.

To discover that what Anthony considered the warmest of friendships had been on one side nothing more than tolerance! It had felt as though he been allowed to live the last decade and more in a state of wretched delusion, and everybody had known it but himself. As though he had been flayed open the whole time and never noticed.

teehee why is he like this (a lil masochist skjfngk):

And it was marvellous to be here exchanging amiable blows once more - to feel Simon's fist against his ribs and to welcome it, simply, wholeheartedly.

slightly off topic, but:

God, it was unfair, the way he could do that. Despite Simon’s slight – slight – height advantage, they must be nearly evenly matched, and yet Simon was the one person Anthony knew who could handle him like that, like he weighed nothing. Or he was the one person who had got close enough to try - he thought of people he knew vaguely through Simon, his fellow boxing enthusiasts: Mondrich could probably break Anthony's back over his knee if he was ever given enough cause. Simon was the one person he'd ever allowed to try, ever goaded into trying.

mm, thank you for the thought anthony :3

How foolish Anthony had been, earlier, to think that it would take an encounter with a stranger to make him feel the hot shame of being drunk and clumsy and inadequate. Here he was, with no one in sight but Simon, and feeling scalded all the same.

He recalled one particular hazy evening, where he had sat on somebody's floor, his back against a wall, barely conscious of anything but for a voice saying, in amused exasperation, ‘Hell’s teeth, you are fathoms deep. Where the devil – Has anybody seen Basset? Oh, there you are. Thank God. Take him home, would you?' The whole room, his whole body liquid, everything unsteady and strange except the sound of Simon's warm laugh close by his ear and the grip of Simon's warm hand against his shoulder. Simon complaining all the way to his door, but still catching Anthony every time he stumbled; Anthony saying nothing that made much sense, just watching the lamplight bounce off the wet cobbles, off Simon's brilliant smile. Being so openly grateful that when the next morning came, he woke up blushing.

what a simp

ch 3:

'I wonder if you would be willing to do me a great favour today, Bridgerton,' Simon said. He was leaning against the duke’s great desk, hands flat against its top, in the position of a general surveying a battle-plan, except that his head was bowed, looking at the expanse of polished wood between his hands.

'Certainly,' Anthony said, eager to have the opportunity to please him. 'Name it.'

settle down, anthony

He was here to help Simon, to lend practical assistance and to keep him company in an unpleasant spot; he was failing on both counts. He must endeavour to be more helpful, to be a better friend – he badly wanted to, was beginning to feel that he would do anything, would give everything to have Simon smiling at him again – but he simply was not sure how to proceed.

He must talk to Simon; he must make Simon talk to him. He should be dragging him out of that study and making him take care of himself, and of his household - not letting him work himself into a nervous collapse in the hopes of avoiding a quarrel. It was absurd. Whatever had passed, whatever barrier was between them would simply have to be overcome; he would dash himself against it, if needs be. First he must stop hiding and go to him - and there was no time like the present.

Despite all this bold resolution, he still found his steps slowing as he approached the Duke's study. He had been miserable in his isolation this last week, but had grown almost accustomed to that misery, to the perversely comforting thought that there was, at least, nothing to be done but to make himself scarce. Now that he had determined to face Simon, he found he was as nervy as a debutante on the ballroom steps – desperate to charm, to be agreeable, to be liked.

Daphne had been right, back in London: he had never had to be careful in that way, had never been trained for it the way she had. He was far more likely to provoke a row.

He did not want a row; he wanted, very badly, to see Simon pleased to see him. He paused on the threshold of the study for a second, trying to shake his discomposure.

Anthony was pathetically happy to find his friend in a jesting mood.

pathetically happy 🫠

Anthony had too often been a witness to this superiority – to his prowess in the boxing ring, to the sharpness of his satirical tongue when given full vent, to his unfailing ability to charm a woman with nothing more than a deep and heated look – not to find his admiration very occasionally mixed with a nervous intimation of his own inadequacy.

not the most dramatic of him esp when compared to later but:

No sooner was he suspected, than he was accused; no sooner accused, than condemned. It was irrefutable. He had been the most complete fool – blind, utterly blind to his own mind, his own heart! And now he well deserved to have the long-delayed realisation come and catch him in the ribs, to have it dash him to pieces like a stage-coach to the back. He deserved to be sitting here, shattering.

ch 4:

Finally judging that they had both suffered enough of this, he tendered his excuses and made to flee. Simon, still frowning at him curiously, insisted on accompanying him up the stairs, so at least Anthony had inadvertently succeeded in dragging his friend from his work and luring him away to bed – no, stop. He tried the thought again more carefully: at least he had secured an early night for his host. Christ.

Simon's uneasiness had evidently not abated by the time they reached the junction where they would usually part ways. For an unhinged second, it seemed as though Anthony was about to be chaperoned right to his chamber door, a kind and attentive gesture that would have unfortunately given him no other choice but to drop dead on the spot. But Simon avoided the embarrassment of sending a houseguest into an apoplectic fit by simply pressing the lantern into Anthony's hand and resolving to make his own way by the dim moonlight filtering in through the windows.

not so pathetic-dramatic but he's cute, so :3

He loved Simon. Having so carefully avoided thinking this one thing for years on end, he now found that he could think of very little else. He loved Simon, and here was his bedroom door. The room was very cold, and he loved Simon. He was an ass; he had long been an ass; oh, and he loved Simon.

That evening in the stables, not a week ago! When he had been so blithely content to compare grappling with Simon to wrestling with Benedict! Remarkable, quite remarkable, was it not, that tussling with his brother had never left him in a state of similar excitement. Of all the self-deceiving fools! He was going to burst into flames, and scorch Simon's hideous counterpane.

What possible good could come of this realisation? What possible good could have come of it five, ten – God, fifteen – years ago? Though Anthony was hardly an innocent, Simon had long been even more worldly than him. Anthony was not up to a protracted interrogation of his addled views on Simon's rakishness over the years, on everything he had witnessed and everything he had imagined: he simply could not take it. But he could acknowledge that if his friend had wished for something more than friendship to pass between them, then surely it would have. Simon was not shy about such things, and Anthony had apparently been there for the asking for years, even if he had not known it.

not really anything but idk why that bolded part makes me skfjgnfkjgnfkjg; like, what does Anthony want, to just be jumped at some point in the last fifteen years? skjfnkfjgnkj he's sooooooo skfjnfg halp

He blew out a long breath. He had always planned to return from this trip and settle into a long, slow death by indifference, had been prepared to live the rest of his life with a strange yearning hole somewhere inside his chest – an unfulfilled longing for something he was not good enough to have. Nothing would change now, except that he would know precisely what it was that he was missing.

he's such a simp :3

Simon seemed to be trying to stand, which did not strike Anthony as altogether sensible. Apparently Mrs Colson agreed, as she was remonstrating with him and trying by gentle pressure to stay him, but her natural deference for her employer made her unequal to the task. He had soon broken free of her careful hold and was staggering forward. Oh, he was coming over to sit next to Anthony: that was very pleasant. A wince passed across his face as he collapsed into the seat: that was less cheering.

His arm was in a makeshift sling, the fabric cutting a bright flash across his bare chest. Truly, Mrs Colson was a marvel. Anthony admired the sling, and this exercise sort of slipped naturally sideways into admiration of Simon's chest, the noble set of his broad shoulders. The coiled strength in every part of his muscled frame. The delicate line of his collarbones. 'Stop moving about, Hastings,' he said, by way of a reflex. 'You are not yet recovered.'

Simon made a noise of disapproval – a barked-out laugh. 'Half-dead and still giving out orders,' he said, darkly. 'If you wish me to sit down, why not shoot me in the leg? Mrs Colson, I am afraid your work is not done.' He reached over with his free hand and shoved Anthony's hair back from his forehead, a brisk but alarmingly tender motion; he did not withdraw his hand, but held Anthony there for a second and stared into his face, eyes bright and mobile. Oh. Trying to gauge whether Anthony was on the verge of a faint. Yes, that made sense. 'Show me that shoulder,' Simon said, voice rough, and released him.

They sat there in its light, both apparently dazed. Simon was barefoot, Anthony noted distantly, and so that he should not get caught up staring at the fine bones of his ankle, he looked vacantly at his own hands. There was blood round his fingernails.

Anthony could not help letting out a helpless laugh, weak with pitiful relief. Here was, truly, the kindest, the best of friends. He felt wretched, undeserving, overwhelmed by Simon's inimitable rough grace. He wanted to throw his arms around him.

He kept his arms to himself, and passed his hands over his face.

omg he's incredible

Then his air of levity fell away, his gaze drifting to the fire. It was not the first time that Anthony had thought him possessed of a kind of stern beauty, but it was the first time that the thought had made him want to smash his own head against the nearest wall. Oh yes, Bridgerton, no doubt all men thought their best friends sternly beautiful.

not sure if this is really one but YOLO

It was a transparent, unworthy deflection. If they had not reached Kent then they would do so soon, and Anthony was quite capable of spending a few weeks there without them if needs be: the windows at Aubrey Hall had never spontaneously taken it upon themselves to cut him to shreds. But it appeared that he was not above pleading, no longer too proud to debase himself, not when the stakes were so high and he was so tired and hurt and everything was happening so fast. In a single moment, he was failing, being forced out of the door.

He remembered another evening, another doorway – lamplight falling on the damp pavement, burning in Siena's eyes. That had felt like a kind of death, something snuffing out inside him. This might actually kill him; it certainly would if anything were to — happen to Simon, after he was gone. 'Please, Simon.'

anthony begging grrrrrr

Simon did not respond. He simply looked at Anthony, something tense and aching in his expression; Anthony held there for what felt like a lifetime, thrumming with trapped energy, waiting for his next move. They were still very close. Almost touching. He could have counted Simon's eyelashes, glossy in the firelight. He could have done a number of things.

Finally, thankfully – before he could do anything at all – his host turned sharply away, eyes glassy as if he were in pain. No doubt he was. 'I cannot do this now,' he said at last, speaking to the floor. 'I am too tired to fight you when you are like this. If you insist, you may stay – for one week more.' He sighed as though exhausted, and when he glanced over there was something tiny and rueful on his face that was almost like a smile. 'First you shoot me, then you occupy my house. I am besieged by a one-man militia.'

Anthony's panic melted away with dangerous speed at the sight of Simon with the very corner of his lips upturned, with the slightest of creases round his eyes. Simon stern was good; Simon happy was magnificent. It had Anthony glowing with relief, with triumph.

simppppp

ch 5:

this is about the bathtub:

But it could not be said that it was not serving him well this evening. He had been sat here in its warm embrace, staring at his own bare knees and listening to the raindrops press beseechingly against the window, for quite some time. Brooding. There was much to brood upon.

anthony being self-deprecating 🫠

What would he say to one of his siblings, if they put a similar problem before him? What had he used to say, when one of them would come to him complaining of strange noises or unspeakable horrors hiding in the darkened corners of their room?

Well, that was quite simple: he would let them know, with a degree of gentleness that depended on the hour of the night at which he was approached, that they had heard or seen nothing of the kind. Then he would go in and demonstrate just how mistaken they had been by confronting the shadows himself – by opening the wardrobe or looking under the bed, and pronouncing them free of spectres. And at that point they could all go back to their beds, him congratulating himself on a job well done, and them comforted, presumably - if by nothing else, then by the reminder that they possessed one brother sufficiently irritating that any ravening ghouls that did appear could simply be directed, without too much hesitation, to go down the hall and feast on him instead.

And if he had found that the shadows were not free of spectres?

Here his expertise foundered. A phantom could not be argued or reasoned or politicked with, or intimidated with a fine family name or paid off or – or beaten at cards; one could not outwit or outride or – Christ – exchange blows with a ghost. Ghost. Anthony glared moodily at the crackling fire next to the tub, annoyed by it all. Absurd even to think the word – this was not Udolpho; he was no Emily – and yet he trusted the evidence of his own eyes, the ache in his shoulder. There had been something in that ballroom with him.

and then him being moody 🫠

ohhh he gets so pathetic skfjgnkfg ever since he realised he loves simon skfjgnkfg

And now he had forfeited the right even to do that. Again, he could not reasonably fault Simon for it, though he could remember few times that he had been more aggravated by a decision – and it was not as though he was a stranger to aggravation. But thinking reasonably, he could understand why Simon might wish to remove a guest so quick to the trigger from an already charged situation. People had, after all, been turned out of doors for smaller transgressions than shooting their host.

If this failure had been his only fault, then Anthony should have been troubled: as it was, he was utterly wretched. He squeezed out the sponge, miserably, and wished that he were wringing his own neck.

But it was not worth the concern it should cause his mother, who would be frantic at any intimation of injury – and even more disconcerted when she read the reason given for it and concluded, quite naturally, that her eldest son had taken leave of his senses.

teehee

Only then had he looked up into Simon's stare. 'Well, Hastings,' he had said, with as much cheer as he could muster, feeling as though somebody was driving something long and jagged through his chest, 'what do you propose to do with the rest of the afternoon? I am quite at your disposal.'

First and foremost, it had transpired, Simon proposed to maintain his watch at all costs. The reversal was dizzying. Last week Anthony had not been able to get two civil words out of the man, and now Simon seemed loath to let him out of his sight. Presumably he intended to guard Anthony against any more of Cliveden's hostility – from any fittings, paintings, furniture &c. that might decide to leap up and try to bludgeon him to death. Either that or he was simply worried that if Anthony was allowed to go unobserved for more than a half-minute, he might take it into his head to get another shot off at his host.

ehe he's so dramatic :3

The difficulty came in keeping his affection, his pathetic lap-dog affection, in check.

He had let it flourish unexamined for so many years now that he found he could no longer remember where the line should be drawn between permissible familiarity and what lay beyond; between teasing camaraderie and – well, there was no way round it – and coquetry.

The delight he took in Simon's company made it all too easy to forget. He was too eager to please, to amuse, to rouse his friend from the fits of guarded melancholy to which he was still prey, and he was too swept along by the pleasure he gained from any success in that arena to heed his own words or to look ahead to where they might be leading him, and then without any warning he would find himself stranded. Breaking off in the middle of the story he was telling, hoping to make Simon laugh. Suddenly remembering that the last time he had recounted it, he had been lying boneless and aglow in Siena's bed, his head pillowed on her thigh, hoping to make her laugh. Hoping to make her love him.

The only real, sustained privacy he was afforded was when George was changing his bandages, and he would spend the entire time with his face heated, sunk in confusion, poring over his conduct so far that day and probing it for slips. On more than one occasion, Simon had remarked on his flush on his return, his 'What do you two do in there?' not sounding entirely like a joke. Well, better that he should believe Anthony was letting every one of his footmen fuck him senseless than that he should suspect the truth.

and then the last bolded part sjfngkfgj all the footmen fucking him senseless skjfgkjfgkfgjnfkg

'How fortunate,' his host had replied in tones of grim amusement, guiding him to his less-than-luxurious bed for the night, 'that I am a man with more than one couch. I will take this one, and we shall see whose back gives out first.' And Anthony had concentrated all the parts of his mind that had not already fallen asleep on feeling entirely normal as he watched Simon walk away to the other side of the room – not devastated at all.

He had been so exhausted that first evening that it had been easy, completely natural, to fall asleep there with the soft sound of Simon's breathing in the air. It had become – more difficult over the past couple of days. His mind had been less obligingly empty, the nights less obligingly dreamless and every morning when he woke, sleep-dazed, to see Simon sitting across from him, it had been harder and harder to remember why he was all the way over there, already dressed and attending to his post, and why it was imperative that Anthony should not reach out for him and kiss him good morning.

And it was beginning to do terrible things to his back, but he rather felt he deserved them.

🫠

But the more days that passed without anything ghastly occurring, the more Anthony felt like he really was just walking, just drinking, just beating Simon at endless games of One-and-thirty. Sometimes, for hours at a time, he would forget the whole thing – the terror, his guilt – and fall into a state of awkward bliss. He would forget to be miserable. He would forget everything but the fact that at present he was with his friend and the dim knowledge that soon he would not be. An unshakeable end-of-the-holiday feeling. It reminded him of that last Trinity term at Oxford – the same sort of panic at the edges of every laugh, the same skittish pang each time he caught Simon's eyes.

Then a strange noise would sound somewhere in the depths of the house and they would freeze, bent over the billiard green or with glasses half-way to lips, endeavouring to look everywhere at once and listening to the sound of each other breathing; Simon would suddenly be gripping urgently at Anthony’s shoulder, his arm – once, memorably, in a darkened corridor, his hand. Nothing more would happen, their eyes would meet, and their fear could only collapse into abashed laughter. And he would look at Simon laughing, would feel the weight of his hand upon him, and be in more danger than ever.

In short, it was all conspiring to send him nearly out of his mind.

so eager to be miserable

and then. simping sooooooo hard skfjgnfjg halp

Perhaps it had been divine retribution for his hubris. In all probability, he ought not to have been riding again yet: his shoulder was healing fast but still tight and tender. And yet four days had passed, and the grounds had continued to look ever more fresh and inviting, and should anybody have opposed him when he had ventured to suggest, in hearty tones, that he must be fit enough by now to take Phaethon out around the park, Anthony would not have been inclined to listen. Simon did initially seem on the verge of protest, even demanding that he be allowed to examine the evidence of this miraculous recovery for himself. But he had relented with quite uncharacteristic facility, before Anthony had even gone beyond looking up at him like a startled rabbit and moving an automatic hand to the buttons of his waistcoat, unable for the life of him to judge which course would be more obviously odd – refusing the inspection outright, or whipping off his shirt in the parlour and standing there with his face aflame while Simon came over and frowned at him.

adorably pathetic :3

His boots flung up water with every hurried step as he tore towards the house, his arms held aloft as a slight sort of protection. As soon as he rounded the elongated wing, he saw movement ahead, and spotted a shape coming up from the grounds. Simon, of course – holding his coat high above his head as a makeshift shield and somehow contriving to make this look like a dashing, heroic thing to do. Anthony's steps slowed a little at the sight of him: in the freezing flash of lightning with the fabric streaming out behind him like that, Simon looked like a fixed figure in a painting – perfect, unreal. Then he remembered what he was about, and hurried on.

As he drew under the portico, Simon was framed for a second by the pillars, by the wings of the house. Whatever jibe Anthony had been about to throw dissolved in his mouth, unsaid. With the grounds behind him and the sky full of sheet fire, Simon had that unearthly look again – like a painted angel, or some ancient god stepping down from Olympus through a rent in reality, wreathed in celestial flame.

Then the moment passed, and he was Simon once more, warm and human and soaked to the bone. Anthony did not feel any less inclined to stare.

simpppp

aaaand a long excerpt but i didn't want to just drop in the relevant paragraphs because the whole thing is gorgeous soooo

Simon was staring back at him. He was dropping his coat carelessly to the floor; he was reaching out and pulling him close by the arm. Anthony's exhausted legs sent him stumbling clumsily forward. All of a sudden, they were all but chest against chest, both of them breathing hard from their sprint.

Anthony was beginning to shiver in his water-logged clothes, but Simon's hand was warm through the fabric clinging to his skin; his friend’s eyes were dark and deep, but he was smiling, open mouthed, still gasping in air. He brought his free hand up, and swiped a thumb gently against Anthony’s cheek.

'You have mud on your face,' he said, no longer a shout.

And that was the moment at which Anthony, for all his good intentions and all his professions of restraint, would certainly have leaned in and kissed him – would not have been able to stop himself, every thought of consequences and all consciousness of the future flown completely from his mind, everything fallen away but for the promise of Simon's mouth against his – if there had not been another splintering roar of thunder that had him jumping away. Whipping round, to see that it was not thunder at all: that the great door of Cliveden had opened for them with a hollow, frosty bang.

And then, naturally, they had been shaken and inside, eyes everywhere – looking for the source of the disruption, looking for fucking ghosts, and finding absolutely nothing at all except a cold, empty hallway, and Mrs Colson rushing into view, as alarmed by the crash as they had been. Anthony – wet through, yes, but mostly just desperate to be alone, to be anywhere but standing in clinging breeches beside Simon – had proposed to take a bath, and arrangements had been made to have the water drawn up and the fire lit.

For one agonising moment, he had thought that his host might insist on continuing his vigil from behind the screen, and had considered running back out into the rain and endeavouring to die of exposure. But Simon had simply nodded and withdrawn to his study, with sufficient abruptness to have Anthony worrying that Cliveden's noisy intervention might have come too late – that his starry-eyed, starving look might have already been noted, and given him away entirely.

And now he was in here – hiding, brooding, hating himself – and had been for some time. He must think about getting out.

also i love that "starry-eyed, starving look" description

Running through the steps of a quadrille - he could already see that was not going to help; he had spent too much time staring furiously at Simon across ballrooms this summer not to think immediately of his upright frame in motion, of the creases that would appear at the corners of his eyes when he let his reserve fall away and deigned to enjoy the movement. And perhaps of him catching Anthony's eye as they crossed the set and smiling, his countenance full of secret promise; of the twilit garden that must be just outside the heaving, hazily-imagined ballroom, just a few bars of strings and a handful of steps away. Cool and dark. Waiting for them. No, he would decidedly need something else, something more tedious: boundary disputes, customs duties, estate tax —

Explaining some intricacy of estate tax to Simon, their heads bent close, fingers brushing as they pointed at figures on spread-out sheafs of paper; lips brushing, Simon's lovely mouth on his, Simon's strong hands against his hips, pressing him back against the desk and – no.

Church, and that one maundering sermon that the college chaplain had given every third Sunday for three years, On the Duty of setting Bounds to our Desires: and the story of the prophet Elisha and the Shunamite widow deserves well to be considered by the bustlers of this world, because we scarce see any virtue which the generality of mankind seem so unwilling to practise than that unaffected moderation and self-denial which... Yes, good; dust shining in the beams of early morning light, the wholesome smell of beeswax. Simon beside him in the pew pretending to nod in sleep, making Anthony tremble with suppressed laughter. Cold stone against his knees and Simon's hand tight in his hair as Anthony knelt to take a communion of a different kind, one that he had never had but wanted badly, wanted now: his mouth moving in something more fervent than prayer, making Simon tremble ...passion yet unsatisfied is an irregular appetite, which in most cases it is dangerous to gratify, for it grows as it devours —

God damn it, no.

Anthony slammed his head back against the copper side of the bath in frustrated contrition, and then again for good measure. In church?

ehehehe he's so gone for him, godddd skjfngkfjgj wants to give him a blowjob in church!! okay anthony settle downnnnnn (wants to be pressed back against the desk!!! perfect lil sub)

it was so tempting to copypaste that whole part of simon and anthony having that argument and hurting each other and anthony walking out

Anthony was in the saddle and half a mile from the house before the next coherent thought made its way through the savage blare of misery in his mind. Where was he going? Fortunately, it was a question with a ready answer: anywhere but here. The village – the tavern, to get as drunk as he could – and then, with any luck, to fall in a ditch and lie there for a bit, possibly forever.

the last section of this chapter is so good!! and so is the section before that. and the bathtub near-drowning

ch 6:

Apparently Anthony was capable of mustering up a reaction to this last circumstance: he was, quite simply, delighted to see him.

lmao anthony stoppp (don't stop)

‘Angry with you? I am furious!' If Simon did not know where to look, then he seemed just as much at a loss for what to do with his hands; they hovered about restlessly, lighting on Anthony's shoulder, a brush of heat through the linen of his shirt – his arm – his hand where it lay on the blanket. Simon, of all people, in a flutter! Anthony found that even this strange phenomenon could not raise much alarm in him, not when it produced results as pleasant as the fleeting warmth of his friend’s hand against his forehead, pushing back his hair. 'What the devil were you playing at? Are you well? In pain? Oh, do not move, for God's sake!'

simpppp

Simon pulled away, feeling for the chair behind him, and collapsed into it heavily, elbows on knees. His hands were twisted into a tight knot before him; Anthony cast them a mournful look, already missing their warmth.

Simon had looked away, and at this he shook his head, but there was a tight smile on his face. His eyes were very bright. 'Your affection for that horse blinds you to his flaws,' he said to his own hands. 'You would be the first to criticise it in another – or even to reprimand him for it yourself �� but if any other person should dare to find fault! He could have stamped upon your head in his hurry and you would tell me that he has an admirably strong foot.'

'I doubt that I should tell anybody much ever again, if he had done that.' Not that the poor animal would have known any better in that case, either; it was Anthony's own responsibility to keep his horse from stamping on his head, and if he failed to do so then he would have to suffer the consequences.

this is not super pathetic but it's cute :3

It all faded into obscurity at the sight of Simon before him now, vivid and animated. He had drawn back to sit again and was fixing Anthony with an arch look, his eyebrow in that familiar quirk, saying something that had his whole being shining with self-amusement.

Anthony very badly wanted to kiss him.

Ah. No. He forced himself to start paying attention to Simon's words rather than simply watching his lips move.

okay this is not really pathetic-pathetic but... i liked it...

Simon shook his head, and came over, taking a seat on the blanket and reaching for the troublesome garment. 'Oh, naturally, you are in the duchy for all of fifteen minutes and already abreast of every whisper of gossip.' He paused: Anthony, who was suffering an attack of self-consciousness upon realising that he had again contrived to appear close in front of his friend in a state of undress, stared at the white linen between Simon’s fingers, valiantly resisting the impulse to snatch it back and wrestle the thing on himself, bruising be damned. 'Which reminds me, Mr Bridgerton, – ' oh, Hell; Anthony looked up sharply from Simon's hands to his face, to find him looking very amused indeed, eyes flashing with mischief ‘– exactly how long have you been in the duke's employment? I am mortified to discover that I owe you at least a month's wages.'

'Oh, God, Hastings.' There was no fighting a flush now, but Anthony attempted to answer with as much dignity as possible. 'That was a simple misunderstanding. I wished to spare our hostess's blushes over a blunder and — things ran out of hand.'

'They certainly did.' Simon's voice was a purr – like that of a tiger who had just stumbled upon a meal fit to keep him fed for a damnably long time. 'Mrs Poole is quite furious with you. And I was so distracted by your more recent lunacy that the pair of us had been quite merrily carrying on at crossed purposes for some twenty minutes before she said how good it was of me to be so anxious for my steward. Imagine the confusion when I revealed that you were nothing more than an old and meddlesome friend! Our host, meanwhile, claims to have always thought you rather too green and bonny for a hired man – which I believe he intended as a compliment, before you reach for your pistol.'

Glowering had very little effect against this tide of jocularity, but Anthony was gratified to find that he could stay Simon's speech by the simple expedient of looking like he was about to lose patience and fight him for his own shirt.

'No, stop, stay still: here.' Simon leaned in and helped him get the wretched thing on, hands hot and shockingly gentle against his wrists, his sides. 'God, you'd be the worst kind of steward,' he was saying, from somewhere on the other side of the linen, voice still full of laughter. 'You are so fucking disobedient.’

Anthony was going to burst into flames; he really, truly was, because his shirt was on and yet Simon was not releasing him, was pausing with the front still lifted and frowning down at the smudged red marks that littered Anthony's aching side, the flushed signs of tenderness beneath his skin, looking as though he might be about to reach out and touch them, and if he did — But finally Simon let the fabric fall and looked up.

disobedient skjfnkjngkng

So they were to hash through it all again. Anthony had hoped that throwing himself headlong into a ditch might at least have had the advantage of avoiding any further argument.

Though even now, he could not see how it might have been done better. Perhaps if he had applied to Daphne instead? She understood Simon's temperament and would certainly have grasped the need for discretion. Perhaps he should hand the whole affair into her capable hands. It was becoming clear that he had little natural talent for match-making; better by far to play to his strengths and let whatever sickness was skulking around Cliveden wear itself out throwing him around. He could take it.

Christ, he must be thought utterly pathetic. But he was beginning to feel that he might be able to take that too, if the alternative was Simon abandoned and undefended, being slowly worn down to nothing by that spiteful, angry mass.

'You cannot possibly wish to return to Cliveden,' he said, sounding almost on the point of despair. 'This is beyond recklessness! I will not allow it. You will simply have to find another method of destroying yourself: I will not stand by and let you use my house!’ He shifted closer, gaze intent again, something pained and urgent in his eyes. 'God, Bridgerton, can things really be so bleak? What the devil did she do to you?'

'She?' Another of Simon's jabs from that morning darted through Anthony's mind. He frowned. 'You mean Siena? Nothing, or – or nothing I did not earn. I do not wish to die for her sake, if that is what you are saying.'

blorbo being pathetic 🫠:

It was astonishing how swiftly, how neatly facts could be made to fall into place: Simon's violent changes of mood over the last month, his mix of sulkiness and high humour, his burning desire to push Anthony out of the door – typical Bridgerton conceit to think that it must all depend upon his own behaviour, his own failings! The scheme with Daphne: it now became quite clear what Simon had gained from that – the freedom to pursue his own ends without scrutiny. And Anthony too wrapped up in his own little melodramas to take notice. Simon's anger that morning, at being advertised as available again. The bitterness in his voice. Just because you desire something, it does not mean that you will have it. Well! Simon in love, after all.

Anthony gazed blankly up at the ceiling. This was the best possible news.

He repeated it to himself inwardly a couple of times, trying to grind it into instinct by force, until it began to take on the worn and sacred tones of a learned response in church – Make clean our hearts within us: And take not thy spirit from us. The same empty, pleading toll. Simon in love: the best possible news.

sad blorbo D:

He was going to have his way again, after all. He was to have his vision – of Simon, smiling at the theatre, laughing in ballrooms, loving and beloved – come to pass; he was to see another of his nearest and dearest happy, settled, without making any successful effort to achieve it.

He thought of the summer, of Daphne's bliss unfolding like an intricate miracle alongside his own clumsy series of disasters. He pictured Simon radiant, out-shining every candle in the church and without a thought for anything but the indistinct veiled figure walking down the aisle; pictured himself, to the side, watching. Perhaps, he thought, a little deliriously, perhaps he was subject to some grotesque twist of fate, the influence of some cracked star at his birth – perhaps everybody he cared for would have perfect happiness, as long as he remained miserable. Well – he pictured again the luminous look in Simon's eyes, an exchange of rings, Cliveden full of noise and laughter – if that was the case, it was worth it: it had to be worth it.

It soon transpired that Simon had not been entirely joking. Mrs Poole was a little furious with Anthony.

Fortunately, he was in exactly the position most calculated to endear him to her again: he desperately wanted to be talked at. Anything to keep him from the only other avenues of entertainment left open to him - running through the list of every woman that Simon had ever, could have ever met in an attempt to identify the future Duchess, and then, when that grew wearisome, presumably going mad.

He appeared to owe thanks to a great many people for their concern and their assistance, and to have been witnessed in a state of utter helplessness by half the village - and yet the mortifying idea of so vast a debt and so great an indignity struck him very softly, very distantly. Because all he found himself capable of thinking about was Simon. Frantic, apparently. Staying by Anthony’s side throughout and hauling him around in a frankly Herculean manner – never minding his still-mending arm, the colossal idiot. It all sounded suspiciously heroic, despite Simon’s protestations to the contrary: like a knight in a fairy story, according to their slightly starry-eyed hostess, or the parable of the Good Samaritan – 'except you still in all of your clothes, my lord'. Yes. Quite. Except Anthony still in all of his clothes.

Perhaps it was fortunate that he had stayed senseless until he was safely in bed, after all. He imagined himself waking up in the cart, tenderly cradled in Simon's arms so that he should not be jolted, looking up into his rescuer's anxious face and leaping drowsily to entirely the wrong conclusion. Then he made a concerted, deliberate effort to stop imagining it. Good Lord.

'It is still so strange to see the duke,' she said in a furtive tone on the second morning of Anthony's convalescence, pausing in her bustle around the room at the very instant that Simon – off on some errand downstairs – had quit it, her eyes fixed on the door in some astonishment. 'He is not at all what I imagined.'

Anthony had also been gazing wistfully after the duke as he departed, but likely for slightly different reasons. Mrs Poole was a married woman, after all.

There was the bright side of the whole misadventure: it had bought cordiality between Simon and his people, had begun to reconcile him with his home soil. Though of course this had been bound to happen eventually, once they had come to know him: impossible for it not to. Anthony had simply sped things along by falling on his head.

'Do not stop on my account,' he said, happy as ever to hear his — his friend commended. 'And I do not think that Hastings will object to hearing his praises sung, particularly not by a woman. You have fallen under his spell as completely as I thought you would. But then he has been installed here for what? Two and twenty hours? No doubt half the village is quite in love with him by now.'

And if he lapsed into a slightly mournful tone at the end there, then Mrs Poole did not seem to notice.

The question of his departure from Sussex had not been raised since their last quarrel, presumably because Simon was in too good a temper to court a fight. But if he had raised it, Anthony would have assented – and waited until he was safely ensconced in the carriage to begin wallowing in his misery. He could not protest any longer, not in good conscience. He was practically useless. Simon would soon have somebody else to take care of him: Simon was in love and certain to be happy, and Anthony — Anthony was happy for him, naturally.

All that remained was for him to get well enough to get out of the way, as quickly as possible.

And despite his tactful silence, Simon must feel the same: he certainly seemed more cheerful than ever on the evening it was decided that Anthony was recovered enough, at least, to stop cluttering up Mrs Poole's best room – that they could return to Cliveden in the morning. There to pack, Anthony assumed, but could not quite bring himself to say out loud.

'Bridgerton!' Simon said, by way of a greeting – obscenely warm and hearty, as if they had been apart for months, rather than the twenty minutes or so it had taken Anthony to dress properly for the first time in days. Anthony found that he was forgiving him all his blasted coddling in an instant, and quite against his will - his irritation simply evaporating away under Simon’s beaming regard.

'Looking the viscount again, I see,’ his gallant chaperone continued, ‘and just when I had grown accustomed to the sight of you lounging around in your shirtsleeves like some consumptive poet. You ought not to have bothered: you display to such advantage en déshabillé. But it is good to see you up and about at last. And with some colour in your cheeks!'

Anthony said something sufficiently insulting in response, and tried his best to keep his cheeks from colouring up any further under the weight of Simon's scrutiny: it would not do to over-indulge the man. He feared that he was not entirely successful.

Simon simply smiled at him, and Anthony received the distinct impression that now he might be the one being indulged. 'Have your fun. They were half-convinced that I was the devil himself: surely I may be permitted an unworthy suspicion or two.' He paused and looked a little abashed. It was a very becoming expression, actually, and Anthony was still so busy being bowled over by gratitude that he forgot to throw himself down the stairs for thinking so. 'I cannot quite account for why I continued to hang on to it after that. Presumably I was loath to give up the inflated sense of importance one derives from borrowing the articles of better men.'

ch 7:

‘Oh, call off your dogs,’ Anthony said, indulgently, amused by this characteristic display of distemper. ‘It hangs there still – to keep the young ladies of London from forming tragic attachments to a painted face, no doubt.' And he was satisfied to hear not a single hint of wistfulness in his words. See, things were as they had always been: already it was easy to talk like this, quite naturally, quite amiably. It barely felt like he was being run through at all. 'Like poor Matilda in Otranto, pining after a portrait.'

He had stayed there staring at Simon’s painted face for twenty minutes at the least, that first time. He supposed that Lady Danbury might have walked in at any moment, caught him trespassing, and reduced him to ash with a single disapproving look; he had been so pleasantly surprised to discover the portrait – to find anything that might ease the raw ache of Simon’s absence – that the danger had never truly occurred to him – not then, and not on any of the other occasions that he had ducked into the cool, quiet room and sought the painting out.

‘It helped me to feel as though you were suffering through it all with me,’ he said now, ‘although you would have detested every second far more than I ever did, I am sure. And –‘ he deliberately lightened his tone, giving Simon a generous elbow to the side ' – it was certainly a better conversationalist than you have ever been: in all the time we spent together over the years, I do not recall it insulting me once.'

Simon did not laugh. He stopped; Anthony turned back in concern to see whether the jab could possibly have actually hurt him, but he did not look hurt, exactly – only open, and oddly stricken. Perhaps he was reflecting that soon they would be apart again, and even regretting it a little – a self-flattering notion, but one that Anthony was too weak to reject outright.

'I was in Greece, Bridgerton,' he was saying, and his words had the remote ring of astonishment, 'not dead.'

This did not seem to Anthony to be the most intelligent statement.

'Yes,' he said, slowly, 'but I missed you all the same.' Then he flushed, suddenly fearing that he might have lapsed into over-familiarity again, and hurried them on their way to breakfast.

He was clearly setting his house in order for somebody's approval: he was suddenly anxious to have Anthony's opinion on everything, anxious to have him involved with the estate again, presumably trying to get as much cleared up as possible before this person's arrival. Anthony was always happy to offer an opinion, and the employment was welcome; it kept him from thinking too much about — about anything else. In truth, he could sense a certain quality of stagnation to much of the work Simon been attempting without him, a certain reluctance to challenge the status quo - the influence, no doubt, of the quelling weight that had lingered in that dark study, behind that heavy desk. Every year bends towards the one before, he remembered Mrs Colson saying. Well, not anymore – not if he had any say in the matter. He had a responsibility, not only to Simon, but to the tenants he had met over the past few weeks, to do what was practically possible to drag the place firmly into the present – or to do as much as he was able before he was hurried out of the door.

'Hastings! This is wonderful, the best of news! I knew you should come round to my way of thinking.’ And if his great happiness for his friend was on the verge of being drowned out by a rising tide of horror and self-pity, if he was speaking through a choking pain in his throat, it was only because he was the most wretched, self-absorbed creature in the world. This was the last of it; if he could just preserve an appearance of natural good cheer for a few minutes more, if he could just keep forcing out the words he ought to say – 'Is there a lady already in mind? You dog! You have been keeping a secret passion from me all this time!'

His own ears told him that this pantomime of normality was less than successful; he sounded utterly shattered, and probably looked it too. And yet Simon was still smiling at him, his eyes very soft.

He had been kissed enough times before; he had imagined this particular kiss enough times, so hazily at first – just images brushed against his mind and blinked away during slow moments in the classroom, at the club – and then with a growing, guilty intensity, so insistent at last over the past few days that it had almost hurt to think of it, hurt as much to think of anything else. But for all that, he had never come close to conjuring up the weight, the relentlessness of Simon's mouth, so hot against his, nor the dizzying, elating effect it would have on him – like he was suffocating, and was exceedingly pleased to be doing so. He had never captured the restless motion of Simon’s hands, assured and everywhere at once; he had never even considered the ticklish scratch of Simon’s unshaven cheek – the way it kept making him gasp against Simon’s lips, kept startling him into opening up and letting Simon in.

For a long, slow moment, he had only a single thought, stretching out endlessly like a string of honey: that he would be happy to stay there forever, to let Simon just hold him there and kiss him breathless, to try his best to return the compliment. But then a strong thigh was being pressed between his own, his hips were bucking up against that warm, perfect weight of their own accord, and he had to break off to make a helpless, open-mouthed noise against Simon's cheek.

A low laugh, little more than a puff of warm air against his throat. 'Was that all. Christ, I nearly drove myself mad with the thought of you back in London - wickedly jealous of whoever you might be letting kiss you, touch you, even make you laugh.' Then Simon raised his head and gave him a heated, knowing look. He was inches above Anthony, their mouths tantalisingly close; his voice was fond, amused - hungry. 'But yes, wretch, I know exactly what you are asking. On better nights, I also thought of you - alone in your immense bed, your hand around your flushed and aching cock -' Anthony heard the humiliating sound of his own breath hitching '- desperate for it, desperate for something more. I thought that I should have taken you away with me, that I could have shown you all that you were wanting.'

Anthony made a pitiful noise and tried to throw his hips up, but it was entirely without use while Simon was sitting atop him like that, his weight just barely above the place he so badly wanted friction.

Simon must be approaching the end of his patience as well, for he did not even stop to chastise Anthony for talking of what he did not know. Instead he drew back with another heartfelt curse – and cursed again at the disconsolate noise that Anthony could not keep from making at the loss of his fingers, at the unacceptable new emptiness that they left within him.

'This is not a damned salon,' Simon was growling through gritted teeth. 'If you are capable of wordplay, my lord, then I am not working you hard enough.'

Anthony scarcely heard his words, too busy clinging to him and making a noise that was treacherously close to a whimper.

#i'll do ch 5 later #or i might add it to this post #i didn't go all the way to the end of ch 7 bc i assumed there was nothing after the love confession but i may be wrong #anyway!#s/a #fic recs #quote #i can always edit the post #this fic has become a comfort fic #//#240710 03.07 going through ch7 now and finished ch7 ha

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minkkumaz · 1 year ago

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omi omg i havw sm to tell you

okay so yesterday i found out i had an ap psych exam AND my ap chem exam on the same day. LIKE WTF! 😞💔💔 BUT BESIDES RHAT, ive never procrastinated so hard,, like the exam is on wednesday and on monday night-early tues morning i just stayed up playing games and i did ATTEMPT to study but it didnt go well!!

I went to bed around 2? and i woke up at 4am to vote for bonedo on THE SHOW,, AND THEY WON! I GOT SO EMOTIONAL IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM KXNDJDJ

but i had like the most insane dreams of my life. first it was like being in a car ride w bonedo, and i was sitting by the window, and like i was crammed with taesan,leehan and woonhak in the back. and riwoo and jaehyun were around the front of the car. and we ended up swerving really hard on a curve, so naturally we all got pressed together.

AND THEN LIKE WOONHAK LIKE HE LTIKE- INSTEAD OF LIKE ACCIDENTALLY HITTING ME, HE MADE SURE TO LIKE PRESS HIS PALMS AGAINST THE DOOR SO I WOULDNT GET HURT (💔💔💔💔💔) and he gave me a lil cheek kiss cause he was super close to my face.

I WENT ISNANE BRO I WOKE UP HALFWAY AND I WAS LITERALLY ABT TO MESSAGE U ASAP ABT IT JUSG INCASE I FORGOT BUT I FELT TOO SLEEPY.

AND THE. AND THEN my second dream was like,, it was just so sweet i sobbed. i was with taesan and we were just lounging around in bed,, and he was just so sweet the entire time, he was holding my hand and everythigne ☹️💔

taesan was just peppering kisses everywhere, like on the hand trailing up to the lips it was so sweet i sobbed

CANON TAESAN BF

-🍉

attempting to study but it failing is like the worst ever ugghh IM SORRY U HAVE SO MANY TESTS 💔 best friends to lovers woonhak is there to comfort you through your struggles

I'M SO HAPPY THEY WON TOO THEY DEFINITELY DESERVE IT AGHH the dedication of waking up LOL

and your dreams omg they sound heavenly, i haven't had a kpop dream in awhile. last time it was yungyu related but its really confusing to explain ><

CAR RIDES WITH BONEDO ARE PROBABLY SO MUCH FUN HH and woonhak kissing your cheek actually sounds heavenly?!? like thats so sweet wtf. i can imagine taesan on aux, maybe jae fighting him to have a turn?

soft moments with taesan :(( you're so lucky i wouldve never wanted to wake up LOLL i just imagine him caressing your face with sm love and calling you the prettiest girl to ever exist.

GIMME YOUR DREAMS!

#∞ ₒ ˚ omi's chats #༊*·˚ anonymous peoples #🍉 anon ·˚ ༘ ✎

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foxgloveinspace · 4 years ago

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Good morning, sunshine ☀️ 🌻 I love you! Happy Friday!!! Kiss Beansicle for me, and drink some good coffee while you're at it. 😙

Good morning babydoll💖

#i love you #💖💖💖#hihi!!!#i woke up from a. very weird dream. where in the dream i got hurt. and irl. i hurt a little where i got hurt. ive had this happen before its #very weird to me lol.#my sister started Christmasast night and i think we are gonna decorate today? we cant go grocery shopping cause my grandpa has to go #get tested for covid cause hes having a surgery on Wednesday. well. they keep saying surgery but they are really amputating one of his #little toes. its a weird story. but hopefully he'll be able to walk easier after.#ah. when i answer these right after i wake up im very info dumpy sorry?#but yeah. we are very into Christmas in my family but me and my sister have a different aesthetic than my mom. we like vintage but my mom #likes country vintage almost like rancher vintage Christmas and every year she ads something we dont like so me and my sister last year #decided to decorate our room how we wanted it. we have a little tree and little stockings and i have Christmas lights to put up instead of #my normal fairy lights. i love those a lot cause they do look vintage almost and yeah.#oh! our Halloween soap is vampires blood and its from bath and body works too! that store is so dangerous cause my sister loves candles and #apparently they have the best candles there. legit people have been like 'they burn the longest and smell like what they are supposed to'#ok. im gonna go have my coffee. i love you and i hope you have a great day and that you get to have some good coffee and that you see #something pretty and that your last day at this job goes great💖💖if anyone is rude to you cause your leaving ill break their knee caps💖💖

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takalzuoom · 3 years ago

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ooooh i am absolutely brainroting about the fennec fox s/o HC! but what about a bunny s/o who is very clingy, also with leona? G/N s/o if its okay heheh😅😅 may i request it? have a nice day/night!

Okay so, lol this is adorable! Was actually debating on doing a bunny at first but chose the fox cause they just stole my heart- but I’m so glad you requested this

And looking at a bunnies personality trait- oh my god they're actual menaces 😭

LIKE WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE VENGEFUL??? PLEASE-

Once again this is a x gn reader and there's gonna be another huge ass height difference cause-

Y’all see a bunny next to a lion? What? Like…They're 8 inches while lions are 4ft, hyenas are around 2.5 feet, and wolves are 2.7 feet… okay now put that in a height comparison!

𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒂

More than once has Leona kidnapped you from your morning classes to sunbathe in the biotechnical garden.

the gentle chirping of birds, rays of sun warming your skin, big as arms cuddling you into a warm body until you're flush against their chest

glorious

The first time you both ever really did something like this (literally 5 minutes after you became a thing because emotions = tiring)

he honestly expected you to run, to thrash around in his arms in an attempt to escape from your massive boyfriend

and he was getting ready for it- ready to put up a fight and have passerbyers call teachers as the scene would look like a murder in process

Oooo he could feel a smirk inching up as he pulled you down on the dorm couch with him

… wait, what are you doing? This wasn't the plan

has .1 second of shock before he goes to snooze once you cuddle into him

DEFINITELY see this as an ego boost to him

and will tease the ever-living shit out of you

which you obviously revoke cuddle privileges for every time he says s then

doesn't matter if you’re struggling not to latch onto him as well- he needs to learn 🧍🏻

will pull you out from class just because he couldn’t sleep right-he missed you-

“Leona stop! I have a test in Trein's class on Wednesday”

“Well that's too bad then”

I can definitely see you jumping on his back in the hallway while he's with Ruggie

everyone around him will 1000% have a face of sheer horror as you beam at him

Ruggie (when he first saw this display of affection) will politely try to get you off (for your own good) as he sees Leona's scowl and words of protesting

which contrasted HUGELY with his low wagging tail and arms around your thighs as shoves his nod your books to the baffled hyena

“hurry the hell up Ruggie, we’re gonna be late”

“Yeah! C’mon Ruggie, Crewel is gonna chain us”

y’all have study parties- well- not really studying- more like Leona and you wrapped in cuddles as you try not to drift off

If you listen close enough- like really strain your ears- you’ll hear the man purr

god forbids you're both in a horrible argument

1. You won't even acknowledge each other

2. You both aren’t getting your daily (hourly) cuddles

3. Leona is prideful and bunnies are vengeful

he will pick fights cause he can't stand to see you with your friends and cause youre not here hugging him

is a literal wake up call for him

1000 to 0 instantly

he will get more and more pissed off when you dont come to lay on his hunched over back once class ends, or when you don’t jump? Cling on him in the hallways, don't hold his hand or wait for him when he goes to class

Will sleep lightly in the garden just in case he hears your footsteps- mind you this is all unconsciously cause he will

NEVER admit that this is affecting him. Ever

you're perfectly fine though- becoming more clingy to your friends in compensation for not being with your warm, big n’ cuddly, cozy boyfriend

you're fine 😺

Yuu thinks you'll last a day

*you last a week but Ruggie and friends force you to make up cause he can't deal with Leona anymore*

*keep giving ace n deuce hugs though, they enough it*

when you don't have classes you’ll go to his room, plop in his bad, curl up next t9o him and sleep the whole day, a smile on both your faces *he’ll deny it*

(just wanted to put it out there that if you have trouble sleeping he will play with your ears- claims it as him bullying you or that you’re disturbing his sleep)

over and all? Y’all joint at the hip

“dumb bunny won't leave me alone so we’re both here”

“not dumb! And I will actually leave you alone for a day”

“Like you’d be able to do that”

“like you’d be able to do that, Mr.’we’re skipping class to sleep together cause it's your fault that I can't sleep so you have to make it up to me” you flattened your ears as you mimicked him

Yuu and co slowly started backing away as Leona's ear twitched

“hey! Knock it off or I’ll”

“What? Hug me to death? C’mon Floyd’s in the next class over, I could literally cling around him if I wanted”

“do that and you're dead

“uh oh someone’s jelly”

yeah Yuu and their party are fearing for their lives as you're both looking like you're gonna claw each other to shreds

𝑹𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒆

what? Do you want something? Cause he’ll give it to you

the first time you do it he plays it off with a smile, rambling with tinted cheeks on how Leona needs him for something

The second time is when he's in the lounge, talking to others as you come bounding up to him, sit next to him, and just- lay on him

oh my god, he's sweating bullets- he's so confused?? Like what are you doing??

will get embarrassed as the other guys erase him

will pull you aside as you tell him you missed him

that's when he realizes that you’re just naturally- fluffy

definitely takes some time to get used to, as he normally takes everything as a joke so when he realizes you're serious he's gonna have some little reflections he has to do

no cause at first he thought you were teasing him- but when you showed up in the middle of flight class he realized it wasn't a joke anymore😟

When school and Leona gets too hard he’ll use you as an energy recharge

(Y’all are that one couple who just hug in the middle of the hallways sgbnoenfgi)🏃🏻🏃🏻

(though he won't let you do it in the middle, more like when the hallways are empty and in a dark corner so no one can see or reach you

starts letting you tag along with his Leona bidding (since you won't stop wanting to cuddle with him)

LEONA LITERALLY MANIPULATES YOU OH MY GOD

RUGGIE HAS TO PUT A STOP TO IT CAUSE IT'S GETTING TO PAINFUL TO WATCH

But Leona likes that you're there for Ruggie when he gets burned out and that his friend servant is getting what he deserves

Also, a free lackey! It’s a win-win!

but Ruggie WILL tease your ass for seeking him out during meals

like when he sees your ears in the crowd he’s smiling widely as he knows what’s about to happen

you literally hang off of him

and even though he's not necessarily the tallest, he's glad that you're smaller than him as it :

A. Makes cuddles better

B. Inflates his ego

“ehh, you want cuddles… let me touch your ears then”

Adores your ears, even though I didn't really include them for Leona- as he would tease you occasionally and touch them to get your attention

Ruggie adores them. Like. They’re so soft and tall.

oh my god. Will tease you for them and playfully pull them, but you count every time he pulls his little pranks

you count every time he teases you for clinging to him

you remember everything 🧍🏻

so with a final, tight hug, you go to class

and your affection vanishes for 1 whole week.

🧍🏻

homeboy get anxious and straight out asks you what’s going on

“oh nothing, you just always seemed a bit bothered by my affection, so I thought I’d give you a break!”

“Hu? When’d I say that?”

Will use his unique magic to force you to hug him after some time (a whole day)

will play it off as you did it

“aww, I knew you’d come around after your little fit!”

“Ruggie!”

I mean technically you won since you made your boyfriend love you even more and get more cuddles than usual

Ruggie at one point realizes he fell into your trap

“you sly bunny”

"what can I say? I learned from the best”

okay so y’all play jokes on everyone- if your wits and his wits you're a force to be reckoned with

and after you're both tired from a day of causing pain and chaos to the general public you retreat to savanaclaw for some well-deserved cuddles, laughing about all the pranks you’ve done.

𝑱𝒂𝒄𝒌

oh my god oh my god

he’ll freak out

like okay- I just imagine you walking up to him when he's doing his hair, staring at him through the mirror, and as he's just about to ask you what’s up you fucking JUMP him

jack : is peaceful

y/n : aw yeah, im ‘boutta end this whole mans career 😈

of course, he catches you- with ease might I add.

“Hey what the hell are you-“

“do you think our ears are the same size? Or do you think mine might be bigger? Let’s measure ‘em!”

will drop you as he grips the counter

oh my god please- this man has too much for him KCLOWPVOSLELFO

so used to just being by on his own, that this is a night and day difference for him

literally doesn't know how to act at first so you're gonna have to help him

“ you shouldn’t be doing this outside the dorm” “babe your tails waging”

I like to think that he (like Leona) , would are a bit more private as he has ‘ a reputation to uphold’

..yawn 🥱

but honestly, while you care, you honestly can't really stay away from him. Wanting to also be carried in his big, strong, muscular arms. clinging and hugging them. and don’t. forget about petting his tail and- oh my god yore so whipped its awful

He genuinely thought that you’d be more skittish, thinking that since you were part bunny you’d cower from him

but it was like a flip got switched once you two started to date- as you’re now starting to get attachment issues

“you're only making them stronger when you reject me babe”

I see you as the ‘aggressively loves kind of person’

like he’ll be running- going to get a water break when he sees a missed text from you

‘ you forgot to bring me along with you. I’m coming- fast approaching with love. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.’

literally stiffens when he looks to the dorm, seeing a tiny blob in the distance- my god what is that-

oh dear heavens it's you

YOU FUCKING FLUNG AT HIM-

okay so in public, he’ll just hold your hand while in private you bring him to your chest and run your fingers through his hair as his tail wags

oh my god cuddle him in his wolf form. Please.

I don't know what it is but when he's in his wolf form he becomes so much more cuddly and will actively seek you out

and with a smirk you accept his cuddles as you lay on his curled up form, a paw on your leg so you can't run as his head is on your thigh

If y’all move to the bed he will actually lay next to you with his head and upper body on you

and if you're in your bunny form- will curl around up around you as you aggressively snuggle into his side

those are the best cuddles

Ruggie WILL get stared at by the both of you when he intrudes on your daily cuddling

like- oh my god you’re propped on top of Jack as he's curled up on his bed

as pairs of beady eyes blink at him before you LITERALLY GO AND RUSH TOWARDS HIM SCREAMING-

PLEASE HE’S DAZED AND CONFUSED AND JUST WANTS TO GO HOME

“I thought bunnies were supposed to be timid”

“what can I say? I’m simply one of a kind”

“you can say that again” Ruggie chimed in as he shifts away from you

please pepper his face with kisses, he’ll quite literally self destruct

and when you pull that prank on him for refusing you when in the hallway?

he gets antsy

takes him some time to figure out your impish grins

HE LITERALLY LOOKS DEPRESSED OH MY GOD STOP RIGHT NOW

HIS EARS ARE DOWN BUT HE STANDS HIS GROUND AS HE APPROACHES YOU

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why ?”

“… you're not like your usual self”

“really? Well, I feel great! Been having an amazing day too!”😼

“really?”

you nod enthusiastically

“… I see"

PLEASE APOLOGIZE OR HE’LL CLOSE UP AGAIN

definitely see you turning into a bunny just to sneak into his stuff and accompany him all-day

also, you're so warm and toasty in his arms

And when he pets you- ugh heaven

overall, being their bunny s/o is the actual best

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kasshole69 · 3 years ago

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truly, madly, deeply - 3

ALPairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff, (eventual) Natasha Romanoff x Reader, (eventual) Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You’d been living a good life, well as good as it could get with how full of lies it was. Why? It was the only way to get by when you were an unmated omega with an uneasy past. That's all flipped on its head when you see a matching soul mark on two certain avenger, leaving your lies to crumble right in front of your face.

A/N: yay chapter 3!!!!! this one is filled with (mostly) fluff. also this was supposed to be a little longer but i got to the point where the chapter ends and was already at like 3k words and had like 6 more things that i wanted to happen so im just gonna split it in two. i got no idea about chapter 4 but i usually write when im at work (dont question it lol) and i dont work until wednesday but we’ll see what happens. I hope you enjoy!!!!

chapter 1 chapter 2 ao3

As you wake, you notice you’re in a similar position to the previous night. Curled up next to Wanda with your head tucked under hers, her fingers combing through her hair. Instinctively you want to curl even further into her and soak up more of her delicious scent and warmth, but you stop yourself, which causes you to freeze up and alert Wanda that you are awake.

Wanda slightly pulls back from you to look you in the eyes. Your sight is slightly blurry from just waking up but you can see a smile on her lips before she says, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

You completely pull away from her to sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. When you look back at Wanda, she is sitting up as well and giving you a look. Not a bad one, instead one so filled with love and admiration that it made you want to shrink. Out of anyone in the world it shouldn’t be you that she gives that look. Not when she hardly knows you. Not when your stubbornness nearly killed you.

You look away from her and ask, “What time is it?”

“Oh! It’s 9:50, did you want me to call a nurse for breakfast?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna freshen up in the bathroom while you do that.”

“Wait,” Wanda says as she rushes to the other side of the room to grab a bag, “Lexi left this at the front desk this morning and a nurse brought it here. I think it’s some clothes and toiletries.”

“Thank you.”

Once you’re safely inside the bathroom, you first look at your reflection and it is shocking. There isn’t really a better way to describe your features other than radiant. Your skin is practically glowing, and the bags under your eyes that had been there for months were completely gone. You haven’t looked like this in, well, ever. The eye bags were thought to be permanent and your skin had never had as much color. You knew these past few months had made you look worse for wear, but your recovery process wasn’t even finished and you're looking better than you did before all this had happened.

This once again made your thoughts spiral. Were you really that miserable? Of course, waking up this morning had been extremely comfortable and you had to stop yourself before you did anything embarrassing but it wasn’t amazing by any means, right? It’s not like you had to force the smile off your face when you saw Wanda’s, right? You hardly knew Wanda and only met her yesterday, there is no reason that you would already have started feeling something other than distrust and hatred for her. There is no reason for your face to heat up or for your stomach to flip when she smiled at you.

Before these thoughts of yours develop further, you splash your face with some water, get into something other than a hospital gown and brush your teeth. When you come out of the bathroom, you see Wanda sitting down on the bed texting someone on her phone with one hand and a cup of tea in the other. When she hears you shut the door, she looks up and gives you that smile that is so damn hard not to return and says, “Hey, breakfast should be here in a few minutes, and the doctor will come in whenever you're finished eating. I also texted Lexi that you're awake and she’s planning to come at around 1:30 to eat lunch with you.”

“Lexi? How did you get Lexi’s number?”

“Oh, well she gave it to me when I got here yesterday and told me to give her updates on you since you were asleep and without a phone.”

“Alright,” you say in a tone that couldn’t really be defined as an upset one but it certainly wasn’t a happy tone either. One less thing to look forward to apparently. Lexi had a tendency to go full maternal on you sometimes, so you knew this “lunch” was going to be more of lecture than anything.

You go and sit down on the bed next to Wanda and you barely stop yourself from leaning against her. A nurse comes in with a tray of food right after and sets it down on bedside desk. You’ve got scrambled eggs, sausage links, a fruit cup and a glass of orange juice. You look at Wanda and say, “I don’t need your help this time.”

She giggles and gets up to sit in the chair beside the bed, “If it means you’re feeling better than that’s fine with me.”

You look back down at your food and begin to eat while having these contradicting thoughts about this whole situation. Why is she being so nice? Is she not at all upset that your ignorance dragged her away from home to stay at a hospital to take care of a stranger? This isn’t a part of her actual job and there is no direct benefit to doing this, unless she considers having to spend all of her time with me a benefit. But how in hell would that be a benefit? You certainly haven’t been a joy to be around and your not recuperating any of the affection she’s given you, so why would she even care about a cold and unaffectionate nobody like you?

You are snapped out of these thoughts and look at Wanda when she asks, “Are you all done?”

Looking back down at your tray, you find all of your food has been eaten and your glass empty, “Uh, yeah I am.”

Wanda smiles at you again and takes the tray and heads out of the room. She’s comes back in and just as she sits back down in the chair a nurse comes in to do a check-up. Checking all your vitals, replacing your IV and asking your pain on a scale of 1-10. Once she is done she lets you both know that the doctor will be there shortly and just a few minutes later the doctor comes in, “Good morning Ms. L/N! How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.”

“Well, you are certainly looking a lot better. Are you still having any pain? Any prickling, throbbing or aches?”

“Nope,” you say quickly. Technically, you were lying. The pain you were feeling didn’t fall under any of those categories, but you were having cramps and you could feel a slight buzz in your head. You knew for a fact that this wasn’t from the touch deprivation, this was because you didn’t take your suppressants. While yes, you know they are bad for you and could cause a lot of problems for you down the line, they were necessary. Once you started feeling the effects of touch deprivation, it had become impossible for you to drop.

Dropping hasn’t been something you hated, but at times it was a hassle. Sure, it felt good to drop since it was basically just getting to lay in the warm arms of an alpha whilst being high as fuck.

You had gone to Brooke just for a routine dropping session and when you couldn’t drop, you just faked it. You then tried a clinic and couldn’t drop there either, you’d never had problems dropping before but you’d believed it was because you knew who your soulmates were and your subconscious didn’t want you dropping for anyone else. So you went and took suppressants. You’d been telling Brooke and Lexi that you had been just going to clinics like you did for your heats. The longest an omega was supposed to go without a drop was a month, but it was suggested at least once a week. You hadn’t dropped in months because of the suppressants, and you wanted to keep it that way.

“This is great progress that you’re making Ms. L/N. We do have to keep you here one more night, but we can discharge you tomorrow. I’d like to go through what I need for you to do once you’ve been released, okay?”

“Okay.”

“The full recovery process is a 3 step process to get you back to normal, and once you’re discharged tomorrow you will have already completed step one. We have to do something similar as weaning someone off a certain medication, in this case we basically have to wean you off of Wanda.”

Both you and Wanda’s eyes go wide at this as the doctor continues, “Once you and Wanda get home you need to keep your distance, try to keep contact to small things like hand-holding. Try to keep scenting to a minimum. I suggest still sleeping in the same bed if possible but try not to be in direct contact with each other. Keep in contact with your pediatrician for when the two of you can start the 3rd step of the process and hopefully make a full recovery.”

While this felt like a weight had been taken off your chest for you, you already knew Wanda was most likely distraught at this news. You could tell Wanda wanted to be as close to you as possible but you were relieved to hear that once you left here, you wouldn’t have to spend every second with Wanda. Hopefully that feeling wouldn’t change.

“Do either of you have any questions for me?”

Wanda speaks up this time and says, “How long does the second step of the recovery process take?”

“It varies from patient to patient, but seeing how fast Ms. L/N is recovering, I’d estimate 5-7 days.”

Wanda seems a little relieved at this and the doctor asks again, “Do you have anymore questions?”

You and Wanda both shake your heads as the doctor turns to leave just after saying, “Let one of the nurses if you two need anything. Have a good rest of your day!”

You and Wanda are left alone together when she says, “Well, we have about 2 and half hours before Lexi is supposed to be here. Is there anything you’d like to do?”

“Um, can we watch a movie?”

“Of course we can, darling.”

You could feel a blush on your face as you turned to grab the remote as Wanda sat next to you. After a few minutes of flipping through channels you chose The Sandlot.

Wanda looks intrigued at your choice and says, “I don’t think I’ve seen this one before.”

“Really? This movie is an American classic.”

“It is?”

You nod, “I think it is anyway. I remember watching this movie at least 5 separate times in school when I was growing up.”

“You watched movies in school?” Wanda asks confused.

“Not all the time. Usually it was always right before we had a break off of school. Always watched it on a box TV on a cart with a VHS.”

Wanda hums before saying, “Me and my family would watch old American sitcoms on our VHS to learn English.”

“Which ones?”

“Lots of old black and white ones. My favorite was the Dick Van Dyke show.”

You hum, nodding when you say, “Mine was I Love Lucy.”

Wanda seems taken aback when you know another show of that time and turns to look at you, “You know I Love Lucy?”

“Yeah, my mom used to use it play it whenever it was my nap time. I had complained to her that it was putting me to sleep since it was an ‘old people show’. But every time it was nap time I’d stay up and watch the entire episode and then fall asleep.”

Wanda smiled at your memory and says, “How mischievous.”

You agree and lay back, focusing on the movie. At some point during the movie you’d ended up laying your head on Wanda’s shoulder. You knew you shouldn’t have let yourself give in so easy, but it really was just so easy to lay in Wanda’s arms, especially when they make you feel so safe and warm.

Ever the early bird, Lexi had come in about 10 minutes after the movie had finished, “Y/N!!!”

You get up from Wanda’s embrace to meet Lexi half way so she can give you an absolutely bone crushing hug. You see Brooke over her shoulder and can’t help but smile when seeing their faces. Smiling and a little breathless from the hug you say, “Hey guys, I’m glad you’re both here.”

“Awe, how have you been feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Just ‘fine’? Because I’m going to be real with you, you’ve never looked better.”

“Uh, yeah I mean I just feel normal.”

“So no pain?”

You shake your head and Lexi smiles, “Great.” She looks over to Brooke and gives her some nonverbal signal because Brooke speaks up soon after.

“Hey Wanda, could I speak to you for a sec?” Jotting her head towards the door.

Your eyes widen because you know the second they leave the room Lexi is going to tear you a new one. “That’s not necessary is it? I mean we can all just stay in here.”

You look to Wanda who is now standing by the bed and give her a pleading look which she looks back at you confused.

“Cmon, Y/N, you can stand to be away from Wanda for 10 minutes,” Lexi jokes.

“That’s not-“ you try before Wanda comes up behind you and puts her hand on your lower back. Turning your head to meet her gaze, you see that look again, that look that is filled with so much love for a person she met yesterday.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right back sweetheart,” Wanda says and quickly gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

You feel your face heat up and your mouth goes slack jawed at what she just did. Lexi laughs at your expression of embarrassed shock.

“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“Shut up.”

Lexi smiles, “Uh huh, well, you know I’d love to talk about you and Wanda but I didn’t come here to talk to you about that.” Lexi takes a deep breath and says, “What the hell were you thinking? You’ve been sick for what, months? You’ve been going to the clinic regularly too, how did this even happen?”

Your eyes widen, you really don’t have an excuse for that. If you had been going to the clinic, one of the nurses probably would’ve noticed your condition, if not it certainly wouldn’t have gotten to this point. Lexi notices your expression and pushes further, “You have been going to the clinic regularly, right?”

“I-I um-“

“Are you serious?”

“I know, I know, I just couldn’t.”

“What do you mean you couldn’t?”

“I don’t know! I tried dropping with Brooke and couldn’t. Then I went to the clinic and couldn’t drop there either, so I just stopped going.”

“For how long?”

“Whenever we found out about Wanda and Natasha.”

Lexi’s eyes go comically wide, exclaiming, “How are you even alive right now?”

You don’t answer, knowing that it would be the last thing you want to say out loud but thankfully Lexi seems to get what your hinting at, “Where the hell did you get suppressants?!”

“Would you calm down? I’m fine.”

“Fine? You’re taking illegal drugs for an issue that could’ve been solved just by going to the doctors office!”

“The whole reason I took them was so I wouldn’t be in position!”

“Well what good did that do ya?!”

You put your face in your hands and feel tears start to form, saying, “None, I still ended up in the last place I wanted to be.”

Lexi let’s out a sigh and wrap you up in a hug. You hide your face in her shoulder as she rubs your back and shushes you. After a minute she pipes up and asks, “All of that, it was to avoid meeting Wanda and Natasha, right?” You nod without speaking. “Why?”

You let out a shaky sigh, “My entire life, I’ve been afraid I would have to be dependent on someone who didn’t love me, take care of me, or even treat me with respect. It’s why I’ve hid my soul marks for so long. I didn’t want to get stuck in a situation I could not control.”

“You have been with Wanda for over 24 hours now, based on your first impression, do you really think she would hurt you?”

That makes you stop and think for a moment. No, there was no point last night or earlier this morning that you felt in danger. If anything you felt safe. Wanda had done nothing to take control over the situation, to take advantage of you or hurt you, in fact she’d done more to accommodate to you. You let out a weak, “I don’t know.”

“Neither do I, but it’s not like everyone is out to get you either, especially not your soulmates. Why don’t you just give it a chance? And who knows, you might actually like her.”

You giggle at the lighthearted comment, “Yeah, maybe.”

The both of you stay like that for a few minutes longer before Lexi pulls back and says, “Let’s grab Brooke and Wanda for lunch, okay?”

“Okay.”

Lexi gives you a tissue to dry your tears and the two of you head out the door.

---------

taglist (? idk if i did this right, pls let me know if i did): @alwaysgoodnight @how-to-disappearrr

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader #omegaverse #omega!reader #abo au #alpha!wanda #ocs

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blarrghe · 2 years ago

Text

wip... saturday

Tagged the last couple Wednesdays by @rosella-writes @fandomn00blr @transfenris-truther @plisuu and @melisusthewee

sorry for never doing these lol. Tagging all of you right back for weekend wips, as well as @elvhenfaer @dalish-rogue and @n7viper

Have some sads! --

Aldhen was dead.

Two hours after working up the nerve to ask Josephine Montilyet for help, Taren had his answers. Heart attack, most likely. Natural causes for a man with a barely functional liver and a long life on the street. In absence of a family to claim him, his body would be handled by the city, cremated. Taren hung up the phone with a sigh.

He took Assan out for a walk after telling him. He couldn't tell if the information registered for the mabari, and he felt more than a little foolish crouching down to give him the news in conciliatory tones, but the dog seemed solemn, somehow, as they walked side by side through the city. It was still early morning, and even the main streets were quiet. They zigzagged north and east, working the way down sloping streets to the coast.

The beaches were closed for the season, and what was one of the most popular locations in the summer was now simply a long strip of pale sand banked by the rough frothing of cold grey waves. They walked along, cold winds whipping across the open stretch of land and the ocean roaring loud over its howl. Assan found a thick branch of driftwood, and Taren tossed it long for him a few times, but the dog barely seemed enthused about the act of bounding off after it and returning again.

“I’m sorry about Aldhen,” Taren told the mabari as they slowed to a stop. “He was… well, I didn’t really know him.”

They sat down, settling into the cold, tough give of cool sand. The mabari stretched out beside him, digging his paws into it and seeming to raise an eyebrow his way.

“I remember once, after I got stuck outside for a few nights — well, couldn’t sleep.” He rubbed his side, though he couldn’t feel the scar under the thick layer of his sweatshirt. “I was pretty fucked up, I guess.” It had been a different nightmare, but somehow the same. The pain and the sickening lurch of that spell, the white behind his eyes. “Woke up shouting. Woke a few people up,” he sighed out a reluctant chuckle, “Aldhen cursed me out. But then he started playing, you know, strumming that guitar?”

The mabari only looked at him.

An old Brecillian lullabye, Taren thought. He hadn’t known the tune, and the shapes of familiar words had been odd, old. He tried, now, to sing what he could remember. The tune was slow, hummed on soothing, low notes. His own voice sank deep, resonating beneath the static hush of the waves.

“Dirthera vha. Ara lath, vhenae’ma —” Taren stopped. He couldn’t remember the rest.

Assan let out a low whine.

“Sorry, that’s all I know.” Taren pulled around his bag and dug into it for the can of cheap beer he’d stuffed into it before they left. “This was his drink, right?”

The mabari huffed as he opened the can. Taren poured its whole contents out onto the sand.

“I know,” he sighed. “Only saw him sober once.”

Sylaise’s vallaslin. They had talked about family; Taren had pointed out the buds blooming over his own brow, and told him how Sylaise had been the choice of his mother. Aldhen had chosen his design for the same reason. That was all he knew.

“But he took care of you, right?”

The mabari whined again.

“It’s ok. I’ll take care of you.” Taren scratched the dog up behind his ears, and with a happier seeming huff, Assan scooted his head up onto his lap.

“Come on, maybe Harhen knows the song.”

#a complicated match #spoilers and a long piece but hi #enjoying my sad angst times #wips #my fic

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itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!!!!!! Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader? One where Bucky has grown his hair out insanely long due to being so busy and he never notices because he’s always putting it in a bun. Until he and the reader have a night alone ;) and they take his hair down only to realize how long it is, ending with Bucky racing to find scissors and chop his hair off back to his shoulders lol.

Omg yes! I love writing about Bucky and his luscious hair🥺 Thank you for the request love and being so patient, I’m so sorry it took so long! Happy reading💕

💌.

Hair Too Long

Warnings: a sprinkle of smut.

(Gif from Pinterest)

The amount of excitement and anticipation could be felt in his body as soon as he woke up. Bucky has never felt this way before, he just wanted to bounce off the walls from how jumpy he was feeling. You were finally coming home today. You have been away on almost a month’s long mission with Natasha, and you were finally coming back home today! Bucky had been at the tower with the rest of the team who weren’t on missions or were busy. He’s missed you terribly. His days seemed gloomier and the bed was lonely without you. Though it was quite embarrassing at how whipped he was for you, he could care less. Not only had he not been able to see you but he couldn’t even call or text you. He missed his babydoll. He missed your scent, your voice, your warm skin, even the way you would hog the blankets in the middle of the night. He couldn’t wait for you to come home. He just wanted to get in bed with you and hold you for as long as you’ll let him.

“Are they back yet?” Bucky entered the kitchen to be greeted by Steve and Sam. Sam was cooking breakfast while Steve used his IPad to look at the news. Sam spared a glance at Bucky but took a double take when he saw the super soldier’s attire.

“Um, no.” Sam slowly turned back to the pan, poking at the sizzling eggs.

Bucky had moved to sit beside Steve, who’s also noticed the way his friend was looking.

“Hey Buck, when was the last time you showered?” Steve kindly questioned his friend turning his iPad off.

��Or changed clothes?” Sam quickly added as he plated some bacon.

The two men weren’t oblivious to Bucky’s change of nature when you left for the mission. Bucky barely left his room, only leaving when he had to train, eat, or when someone needed him. Ever since you left for the mission he hasn’t joined Steve and Sam on their daily morning jog. He woke up late and would eat breakfast during lunchtime. Now here he was, long grown out hair sticking together due to the oil its collected over the last few days and wearing the same clothes he was wearing during the weekend. Today was Wednesday.

Bucky’s eyes panned at the two men in front of him, looking down at his clothes. “Uh, yesterday...”

“Bullshit.” Sam glared at Bucky before violently sliding a plate of eggs, bacon, and a stack of pancakes at him. Bucky turned his head to Steve who shook his head.

“I’m sorry Buck, but you’ve let yourself go ever since (y/n) left for her mission.” Steve shrugged as he took a piece of bacon from Bucky’s plate. Which earned him a smack on the wrist from Bucky’s bionic arm.

Steve yelped as he held his hands up in surrender, “It’s just an observation! Ever since she left you’ve been cooped up in your room every day. Buck, this is the most I’ve talked to you this whole month!”

Bucky sighed as he shoved a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, “Okay, maybe I have let myself go. I just miss her.” The dark haired man frowned at his bacon. You weren’t that big of a fan of bacon, instead you preferred sausage on the side of your eggs and pancakes.

Steve sent a look to Sam who just rolled his eyes at their lovesick friend.

“You know, if she ever finds out that this is what you become when she leaves, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Sam motions to Bucky’s clothes and hair.

“Would she really be mad?” Bucky asked the two.

“Punk, (y/n) wouldn’t want you to mope around like some lost puppy every time she leaves. Like, you could miss her, but you need to take care of yourself. You can’t always lock yourself in your room when she’s gone.” Steve advised him.

“Yeah and you can’t always forget to take a damn shower every time she leaves.” Sam muttered under his breath. Bucky grunted at him, roughly kicking Sam’s ankle under the table. Sam hissed as Steve continued to give Bucky advice.

“Listen, the quinjet comes back in an hour or two. If I were you I would take a shower, change your clothes, and clean your room before she gets here.” Bucky nodded along, agreeing with Steve’s suggestion.

“Maybe change the bedsheets too.” Steve added. Sam snickered, “I bet they stink.”

“Keep talkin’ and I’ll make sure your wings don’t work the next time we’re on a mission together.” Bucky threatened. He turned to Steve, “You’re right, she wouldn’t want to see me like this.”

Bucky stared at his food before quickly getting up, “I gotta take a shower.” With that he rushed out the kitchen and back into his room. Steve and Sam looked at the direction Bucky headed and heard his door slam shut.

“Man, he’s whipped.” Sam mused as he began to eat his breakfast.

~⏰~

Thirty or so minutes had passed and Bucky had already taken a shower. His hair was now soft and silky as it brushed past his shoulders, longer than it was when you left.

“Stupid sheets. Stay.” He demanded the dainty bedsheet underneath him. He was currently sprawled out on the bed, both knees keeping the corners of the bedsheet from sliding off. His arms flexed as his hands tried to get the ends of the sheets over the corners of the mattress.

The sounds of grunting and constant cursing caught Wanda’s attention. Curiously, she peaked her head into your and Bucky’s shared room.

“Do you need some help?” Bucky jumped when he heard her voice, causing the bedsheets to fly off the mattress. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, sighing in frustration.

“I just want (y/n) to be comfortable when she comes back from her mission. I just want her to relax in bed cuddled in some new sheets, but NO. They just won’t stay!” He motioned to the pile of pillows, sheets, and comforter on the rug. The younger woman held a hand up at him.

“I know. Why don’t you toss those old sheets in the wash, I’ll make the bed.” Wanda ushered Bucky towards the dirty sheets as her hands began to glow red. He thanked her before gathering the sheets and making his way towards the laundry room.

While he was shoving the sheets in the washer, his hair kept getting in the way. The ends tickled at his face and got in the way of his vision. Patting down his pockets he felt for the round band that he kept in his pockets. When he found it, he bent down and gathered his hair into a ponytail. He got the band ready, twisting and twirling his hair until it looked like a donut. He secured the bun with a content noise before returning to the task at hand.

You had thought him how to make a bun. One day he saw you do it so effortlessly and wanted to learn so he can do it with his hair. It took many tries, but by now he felt like he finally nailed the perfect bun.

Bucky returned to his room to see the bed was fixed neatly. The pillows were set up in a way that looked like the ones on display at Macy’s and the sheets were smoothed out with not a single wrinkle in sight. He made a mental note to thank Wanda once again for fixing the bed. He looked at the time before cleaning up some random clumps of mess that caught his eye. When he was done he sat on the desk chair instead of the bed. Now all he had to do was wait.

~⏰~

“Mr. Barnes, the quinjet has arrived. Ms. (Y/n) has entered the building.” FRIDAY’s voice echoed in his room making him jump. Bucky hopped to his feet and took a quick glance at the mirror. He was sporting a five o’clock shadow and his hair was up in a man bun. A few stands had fallen out form the tie, causing him to redo his bun.

He rushed out his room, already hearing your soothing voice from down the hall. His loud footsteps can be heard from the kitchen causing the others to chuckle.

“Here he comes.” Sam snickered, nudging your shoulder.

“He’s been miserable since you left.” Wanda mentioned an amused look on her face. Suddenly, Bucky appeared from around the corner. His face lit up and his eyes were filled with joy as he practically charged at you. His thick arms wrapped tightly around your frame as his nuzzled his head into your neck.

From over Bucky’s shoulder you saw Steve smiling fondly at the two of you. You pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple as you ran a soothing hand along the expanse of his back.

“Hi honey, how’ve you been?” The sound of your soft voice made Bucky sigh in content. He was glad to finally hear your voice and to actually hold you. The feeling of you brought him comfort. You were like his safety blanket and now that you’re back, he felt as though nothing bad can happen in the world.

“I miss you, doll.” He replied quietly so only you can hear. You pulled back and took a look at him. You’ve noticed his beard was coming back and his hair was up in a bun. His hair was neatly pulled back, allowing you to get a good look at his face. You smiled at his hair, pulling onto his hand.

“Well I’m here now, you don’t have to miss me anymore.” You led him down the hall and back into his room. Bucky followed you without any protests. You entered the room, the neat bed catching your eye.

“Who helped you with the bed?” You ask him. Bucky shuts the door behind him before making his way to you and taking the duffel bag from over your shoulder. He places it on the floor before pulling you flush against his warm and cozy chest.

“Wanda saw me struggling and ya’ know.” He made a goofy face making motions with his hands that mimicked Wanda’s. You chuckle, understanding what he meant.

You breathed in his scent. The smell of his shampoo entering your senses. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tiptoed. Bucky noticed what you were doing and bent down, making his lips closer to yours.

One of his giant hands cup your cheeks as he takes a moment to take in your features once again. Nothing had changed, you were still beautiful. Except for a small scratch along the apple of your cheek, he frowns at it as his thumb brushes over the healing scab.

“What happened here, doll?” His voice is low as his plush lips press gently against the scratch.

“Hand to hand with one of the punks that work with Jasper. Almost had my eye poked out.” You joked, causing Bucky to send you an unamused look.

“Hey, that doesn’t matter. I’m here, right? I just want to be with you right now.” You mumble against his lips. He hums before crashing his lips onto yours for the first time in weeks. Your lips move in synch while your hands grip at each other.

Pulling away for air you shrug off your sweater, “Wanna take this to the shower? I could use one.”

“I mean, we’d be saving water together, so sure. Anything that helps the planet.” He jokes. You pull off your shirt, pants, and boots, leaving you in your undergarments. You walk into the connected bathroom to see that Bucky had started the shower. There was some light steam coming from the water and you just couldn’t wait to hop into it.

Bucky presses himself behind you as you enter the shower. You feel his length against your backside as he presses scattered kisses onto your shoulders and the back of your neck. You moan as his hands wrap around your front, his hands enveloping around your breasts and squeezing them.

“Baby, missed you so much.” You turn in his arms and you’re stunned to see his hair still in a bun.

“Buck, why’s your hair still up?”

“I forgot to take it down.” He quickly pulls the tie from his hair and throws it out the shower. You run a hand through his dark locks, admiring how long it’s gotten since you’ve been gone.

“It’s so long.” You giggle as Bucky shakes his head to ruffle his hair. A toothy grin is on his face as he pulls you close again.

“You like it?”

“Yeah I do.” You muse before pressing your lips together again.

The two of you get frisky in the shower. The heat of the shower competing with the heat of your aching core. Your back was pressed against the cool tiles of the shower while Bucky held you up, your legs wrapped around his slender waist.

Bucky groans for the tenth time when his hair gets in the way once again. The hair getting tangled in yours and Bucky’s lips. Bucky sighs when he pushes his wet hair back again, not understanding how yours was staying in place. He suddenly places your feet back to the shower floor and opens the glass door.

“I can’t with this shit.”

“What are you doing?” You peak your head out of the shower to see him, butt naked with everything hanging out, as he rummages through a drawer. He pulls out silver scissors and gathers his hair into a pony tail. Before you can protest against his actions, the scissors snip at his hair. A chunk of his hair falls to the floor.

Bucky looks at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair. He nods at himself, happy with the new length. His hair stopped right above his shoulders, back to how it was before you left.

“Bucky—“ You’re about to say something but Bucky is already hopping back into the shower and pinning you against the wall.

“Now, I could finally show you how much I missed you without my hair getting in the damn way.” His shoves his head into your neck, sucking and nipping harshly at the skin. The troubles of his hair long forgotten now that his focus was on you and only you.

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 18]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; dom!seungcheol, dirty talk, car sex, filmed sex videos, using panties as a gag, but also panty stuffing, choking, domme!reader for like .3 seconds ☠️, after all the mess of last night(iykyk) i think we need this lol, but also a bit of a filler chapter for… reasons. 💕 but also came out raunchier than I anticipated but that was maybe just a me thing LOL 😭 as always, thank you for all the love and support with cherry bomb💕💕 only two more chapters left, I cant believe it... 😭😭😭 also again, another inbox roundup tomorrow! For now, enjoy ch 18 and have a great weekend! Be safe! ❤️🍒

not me editing the notes to include the ❤️🍒 that cheol just used on weverse 😩

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - x - x

“Did you get it?”

Jun looks around the diner as he nods, “Yeah. It got to my house yesterday but I still don’t understand why I had to help you get this… Does Seungcheol-hyung not know? I’m confused.” He laughs nervously, somewhat concerned he’s helping you do something you shouldn’t be doing.

You grin back at the confused male, blinking innocently at him while he chuckles under his breath.

“Not… for now. But don’t worry. He’ll find out! I just… Haven’t brought it up to him yet, is all! But I will! ‘Cause we’re planning something~”

Jun’s lips fall into a surprised ‘o’, eyes flitting to the group of people that enter the diner.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” He yells, smiling before he turns to face you again. “So you’re scheming something but hyung’s just not part of the scheming… yet?”

“Exactly!”

“Hey, what do you say we go on a picnic date on Saturday?”

You tilt your head at Seungcheol, eyebrows raised. “I mean, I’d love to but we need to… post on Saturday? We haven’t filmed anything yet so I thought we’d film early on Saturday and then… y’know.”

Seungcheol grins at you from the opposite end of the sofa; eyes glimmering with a playfulness that has you mumbling a quiet ‘I see’ before rolling your eyes jokingly at the male.

“I see you’re scheming so the answer is yes, ‘Cheol, I’d love to go on a date with you on Saturday.”

“Good, ‘cause I already have everything set up for us so it would’ve been a waste!”

The two of you share a laugh before you’re remembering what you needed to bring up to Seungcheol. “Hey, by the way… about the channel rebranding thing.” Pausing, you wait for him to give you his full attention before you continue. “I thought maybe, we skip next week’s Wednesday show and instead we do a Friday show and for the last time, do a Saturday show and that’ll be, like, the rebranding? Is that confusing?”

Seungcheol nods along slowly, “No I know what you’re goin’ for. Any ideas for the shows?”

Your face and cheeks feel hot as you squirm, “Well… I had this idea. Why don’t we each… come up with a show concept. I’ll pick Friday’s show and you can pick Saturday’s and we’ll go with each other’s idea. Not, like, a competition but y’know, I thought it’d be fun for our viewers too! They can see what we come up with when each of us have control of the theme.”

Seungcheol goes quiet, contemplating his options. “And neither of us will know what the other’s concept is until the show?”

“Mmhmm! All within our hard limits though! That’s the only rule.”

A grin finds its way onto Seungcheol’s face.

Oh, did he have ideas.

“Sounds fun. Can’t wait to see what you come up with, baby.”

‘Jeongguk I have a favour.’

Jeon 🥴: always favours wit u but ok, i havent been disappointed yet

Jeon 🥴: u keep me on my toes, it makes me tingly

‘Shut up’

‘Do you have Jimin’s phone number, by chance?’

Jeon 🥴: I mean yea i do but…

Jeon 🥴: nvm i dont wanna kno

Jeon 🥴: but actually i wanna kno before i give it to u

‘Just give me the number and you can find out next Saturday’

Jeon 🥴: cryptic but i like it

Jeon 🥴: 82 13 1013 0613

Jeon 🥴: ur welcome

‘Thanks, Jeongguk, I owe you.’

The week continues with you and Seungcheol continuing to plan without each other; sly smirks and hushed giggles passed between you both even when Friday’s show comes and goes.

Saturday morning greets you with cloudy skies and pouring rain and you pout at Seungcheol as soon as you manage to get the curtains open to watch the downpour.

“‘Cheol, it’s raining… How are we gonna go on a picnic date now?” He bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks.

“We can still go on our date, we’ll just… stay in the car. It’s not as romantic as I would’ve liked but I already had everything set up for us and even packed a basket.” He laughs under his breath, a little deflated that the rain had suddenly come and ruined his plans.

There went his idea of fucking you on a big picnic blanket out in the open.

“I gotta say, even though we’re just chilling in your parked car on the hillside… It’s actually quite pretty out here, ‘Cheol! Kinda calming with the rain and all~”

The two of you stay bundled up underneath a blanket in the backseat; the car windows already fogged up with the warmth the two of you radiate.

Seungcheol had packed a picnic basket filled with various snacks and premade food; a sheepish smile on his face when he told you he wasn’t sure what to bring.

“I would’ve made food but I wanted it to be a surprise and I also wasn’t sure what would’ve been good to bring. Although, now I’m thinkin’ we should’ve packed a thermos of hot chocolate or something.”

You pull away from him slightly, pouting. “That would’ve been good to warm us up a bit. I totally didn’t think of it either…”

Seungcheol grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Speaking of warming up…” He leaves the comfort of the blanket as he leans over to the side, placing his phone precariously on the phone holder that he’d set up on the backside of the driver’s seat to catch a side view of the two of you. He opens the camera app and quickly starts recording before he settles back into his place across from you.

“Well? Give it to me, baby. Right now.”

You feel a thrum of arousal pour over you at his sudden demand, “I--but--but I’m not p-prepped yet, I--”

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head slightly before he leans over you; making sure the two of you are within the camera’s line of filming.

“Baby, I just wanted a kiss.” Your entire face goes hot, all the way up to your ears. “O-oh.”

He leans in, soft lips pressing against your own as he tangles a hand in your hair to deepen the kiss. You melt into his touch, lips parting on their own as you let out soft moans that mix in with the pitter patter of rain outside.

His lips leave yours and before you can even get a word out, a shiver runs up your spine when he starts pressing soft kisses against your jawline.

“So pretty and all mine.” He mumbles; voice muffled against your warm skin. “And now everyone knows who you belong to, right, angel?”

You nod shakily, throat dry at the gentleness in Seongcheol’s voice. “Y-yeah… ‘m all yours, ‘C--Cheol…”

“Should I leave some reminders? Just in case anyone forgets.”

You mewl in response, eyes rolling back when you feel Seungcheol starting to leave love bites on your neck. He sucks on the skin, only to soothe it with his tongue moments after.

“A-ah, don’t l-leave so many or e-else…” Whining, you rub your thighs together under the blanket; already feeling the arousal starting to take over your body.

“Or else…? I wasn’t aware you were giving me orders now, baby.” He smirks against your skin, leaving one more love bite on the column of your neck before he pulls away.

He kisses you softly on the lips once more before he’s pulling the blanket off of you and tugging you onto his lap; a gentle, warm smile on his plush lips. Your lust filled eyes meet Seungcheol’s before they’re flitting down to your lap where he pushes your skirt up to reveal your panties and before you can fully comprehend, he’s already tearing at the material before he tosses it to the side.

“I want you to ride my cock just like this, baby. Forget the camera’s even rolling, I wanna see you getting off in the backseat of my car and I wanna see your pretty face when you’re falling apart from how good my cock fills up your pretty cunt.”

You rock your hips against Seungcheol’s; hands placed on his shoulder as you chase your pleasure.

“You look so pretty like this, angel. So fuckin’ cute when you’re getting what you want.” You moan in response, head thrown back when the head of his cock taps your g-spot.

“So fuckin’ wet for me.” Seungcheol pauses; hands snaking down your body until you feel them on the skin of your ass.

He squeezes your ass as you whine loudly, fingertips teasing at the puckered rim. ��Ah, we should’ve brought a toy with us. Bet you would’ve liked both of your needy holes filled, huh?”

“Y-yes, fuck! S--Seungcheol!” You clench around his cock, bouncing in his lap harder when he pulls his fingers away.

“We’ll save it for another time~ Wouldn’t want to rock the car too much, y’know? And I’d want you to be comfortable when you have all your needy ‘lil holes filled, not in the backseat of my car.” He grins at your somewhat disappointed face; feet planted on the floor of the car before he’s thrusting up into you and matching your erratic movements.

“Oh, g-god, it feels s--so good! I, ah, w-wanna cum!” Whimpering, your brows furrow as your hazy eyes meet Seungcheol’s.

“Aww, my sweet angel wants to cum already? So fuckin’ easy. Only a few minutes on my cock and you’re already falling apart?”

When he smirks back at you; there’s a sudden pang of confidence that pours over you and in an instant, you move a free hand up to the column of his throat. You squeeze down slightly, only enough as a warning as he licks his lips at you.

There’s a beat of silence as the two of you stop your movements while you sit perfectly still on his cock.

“Hmm? Gonna choke me to shut me up, baby? Go ahead. Let’s see if you can.” He taunts, hands still on your clothed waist. You start swiveling your hips again, except this time you keep your hand loosely wrapped around his neck; fingertips only just pressing into the sides as he lets out a soft groan in return.

“I bet you’d like it t-too much, ‘Cheol…” He chuckles softly; nodding when he feels his cock throbbing inside of your pussy.

“Not as much as you do.” He starts thrusting up into you again, momentarily making you lose your hold on him when your body jostles from his harsh movements.

“Mmh, gonna cum in your pretty cunt ‘n then I’m gonna make you sit pretty with your fingers keeping my cum inside while I drive us both home. Fuck, bet you’d cum again just from that too. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, fingering my cum deeper into your needy cunt.”

Before Seungcheol can say any more, your other free hand quickly reaches for your discarded, torn panties; shoving them into his parted lips as he lets out a surprised noise around the fabric.

“You, ngh, t-talk too m-much…” You mutter.

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh around the fabric, quickly pulling your hand from around his neck as he swiftly maneuvers you off of his cock to switch your positions.

He presses you down into the backseat as he pistons his hips into you; his hands keeping your legs spread obscenely wide as he fucks you hard and fast.

The car rocks back and forth with his harsh movements and your moans only get louder and louder with each thrust of his hips that has the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna c-cum!” You feel your walls getting tighter around Seungcheol’s cock and he finds it harder and harder to thrust into you as your body starts to tense with your impending orgasm. He growls around the fabric in his mouth; eyes silently ordering you to cum as his hips start to lose rhythm.

“Ah, S--Seungcheol!”

His name rolls off of your tongue in quick succession until it turns into muddled, broken whines and cries and he fucks you right through your orgasm as he chases his own. He feels his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls flutter around him and he only manages a drawn out groan before he’s unloading all of his cum inside of you; head thrown back as he lets the waves of pleasure wash over his body.

You stare up at him through glassy eyes, chest heaving as you ride out the remnants of your high. “Ngh… gonna, mmh, make a--a mess on the s-seats…” Muttering, it takes a few quiet moments before Seungcheol is slowing down his thrusts to a complete halt but the glimmer in his eyes lets you know he’s not completely done with you just yet.

Seungcheol starts to slowly ease his cock out of you as you groan softly at the emptiness, waiting for the second you close your eyes to blink to make his move.

He takes his chance; pulling the soaked material from inside of his mouth just as the head of his cock is at your entrance and he quickly places the torn panties right where the head of his cock was, just a second ago.

“That was really cute of you, baby.” You breath hitches when you feel his fingers starting to press the material into your spent hole. “Really, really cute.”

Your thighs shake at the feeling of Seungcheol slowly pushing your panties into your cunt; eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out shaky whimpers. “Oh, fuh--fuck, Seungcheol, mmh!”

“I actually packed a spare pair of panties for you, y’know? I was gonna play nice and eat your pretty ‘lil cunt out instead of letting you sit in cum soaked panties but I guess you had other plans, hmm? Got a little too greedy, perhaps?”

He smirks down at you, watching as your face contorts in unadulterated bliss when he pushes more and more of your panties into your pussy until only a small piece of fabric is left hanging out.

Seungcheol turns to face his phone that’s still recording, plucking it from the holder it’d been in before he flips the camera and films your body instead. He lets it linger on your fucked out expression before he brings it down to your pussy, filming your squirming body as you clench around the fabric keeping Seungcheol’s cum from spilling out of you and onto the backseat.

“Mm, and now you get to sit in the passenger’s seat, your own panties stuffed into your pussy while I drive home. But I bet it feels good, huh? Your needy ‘lil hole plugged up ‘til I can get you home so I can fuck you again. Unless you get really desperate, then I’ll let you take the panties out by yourself and you can finger your cunt and make yourself cum again.”

Goosebumps rise on your skin at his filthy words and you can’t help but bring a shaky hand down, fingertips already on your clit as Seungcheol raises a brow at you.

“You should get to d-driving then, ‘Cheol… Don’t you wanna find out what, ah, I choose?”

He shakes his head as he ends the recording on his phone; tossing the device to the side before he leans over you again.

“You’ve been getting really cocky with me, angel. Something I should know about?”

You blink up at him innocently, lips in a pout.

“Nope~”

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