#do you hear yourselves? do you hear yourselves when you speak. Say that out loud in front of a mirror.

[wxwrites]

Issues

(pitfighter!vi x reader, f!reader, fluff & light angst)

(a little self indulgent because i wish cait apologized properly)

you and vi get into a fight at the warehouse she fights in, chaos ensues, and you find yourselves locked in a storage closet. apologies and reconciliation come about as you pour your love and feelings into each other.

“No, Violet, I really just don’t fucking understand it!” you snap, storming through the hallways of the abandoned warehouse. Vi is following behind you, equally just as angry, the sound of her boots clanking across the cement floors. 

“Of course you don’t! It’s not like you’ve even tried to!” she exclaims, shoving her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. You stop in your tracks as soon as the words leave her mouth, causing her to bump into your back. You step forward briefly before whipping around to glare at her.

“Me? You’ve been shit-faced all day! How can you say that I’m not trying?” you ask, voice cracking as the anger continues to build inside of you. She scoffs and rolls her eyes at your comment, pushing her way past you, knocking into your shoulder on the way. 

You sigh and concede, following in step behind her. There’s a loud cry from the other end of the hallway, and then a stampede of footsteps following. As they funnel towards both of you, roars and chants pound through the space. She yanks you into a nearby storage closet, slamming the door behind you.

“What the fuck?” you gasp, coughing as your back hits the door. You both hear crashes and loud clamors as the crowd moves down the hallway, items and furniture slamming around. “What’s happening?” You yell over the thundering voices and the bangs against the door. She shakes her head and shrugs, “New champion, maybe?” she suggests, raising her voice over the commotion; but otherwise looks clueless. 

You huff angrily for the next ten… twenty minutes? You’re not sure, but you realize that by the end of it, you’re both sitting on the ground, and she’s drunkenly slumped onto your shoulder. You want to shrug her off, wake her up, do anything to get rid of her infuriating touch. But it’s hard. It’s hard when she looks so peaceful as she sleeps. It’s hard when you know that being asleep is the only time she isn’t plagued by her devastating insecurities.

Eventually, the weight becomes too much to bear on your already sore shoulders. You stroke her hair gently and coax her out of her slumber with a quiet “Vi, Vi, c’mon,” speaking like a broken record. She groans and pulls off of your shoulder, shaking the blurriness out of her eyes. “Are you okay?” you ask gently, reaching down to cup her cheek and tilt her head back slightly, giving you a better look at her disheveled state. 

“Violet,” you say firmly, stroking your thumb over her cheek. She hums out quietly, chasing the feeling of your palm. “Yeah, yeah ‘m good,” she mumbles, pressing a sloppy kiss to your palm, smearing the runny black makeup into your hand. 

You smile warmly at the affection, the previous fight almost completely forgotten. You sigh deeply as you straighten her up, bracing your hands on her shoulders. “We need to get home,” you mumble, thumbing over the runny black streaks on her face. She sniffs quietly and nods, allowing you to pull her up to her feet. She stumbles slightly, pressing her hands to your shoulders as she stabilizes herself. 

You reach for the door handle and turn it, attempting to push through. The rickety door refuses to budge, causing you to huff out in frustration. She notices your frustration and gently pulls you away, taking her own shot at forcing the door open. Her attempts are futile as it remains cemented shut. She crashes her body into it, attempting to brute-force her way through, and ultimately fails. 

“Vi, c’mon, it’s not gonna move,” you state, gently tugging her back by her bicep. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” the words ring through her ears, causing her to back off and away from the door. 

“Must’ve destroyed the place earlier, ” she comments, words stringing together a little more coherently this time. 

You nod quietly, letting out a tired sigh as you slump back onto the floor. She settles on the rough ground next to you, your arms brushing together. 

You sit in a tense silence, both wanting to address the argument, but neither wanting to deal with the onslaught of emotions. 

Minutes pass before Vi finally opens her mouth, sucking in a deep breath first, before; “I’m sorry… about earlier,” she mutters, picking at the skin surrounding her fingernails. 

You reach out and lovingly grab her hand, pulling it away from the self destructive action. As you rub your fingers over hers gently, you mumble back, “I just hate when you get like this, y’know… l-like you get so cold and distant,” you stammer.

She sighs deeply and nods her head, running a frustrated hand over her face. “I know, IーI don’t have an excuse or a reason,” she says, and you don’t miss the frustrated tone. Vi finally turns her head so that she can meet your eyes, frowning slightly.

“...and I’m also sorry,” you reply after a beat, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier,” you say, pulling her hand up to press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. 

She shakes her head, “No, no, I was being an asshole and you really didn’t deserve it,” she deflects, causing you to frown. “That doesn’t give me the right to snap at you like that, I should’ve just walked away first. Or.. or at least said something before it got to that point,” you reply, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. 

You reach up to cup her cheek gently, swiping your thumb through some of the remaining black ink. “We really need to work on this, okay? We can’t keep fighting, my love,” you say firmly, but there’s an unmistakable tone of gentleness and adoration in your voice. 

She nods immediately and sniffles, causing you to notice the stray tears that have rolled down her cheeks. You give her a sweet smile as you wipe them away tenderly, pressing your lips beneath her eyes, and onto her nose. She lets out a quiet, almost inaudible chuckle as your eyelashes flutter against her skin. 

“You’re too sweet for me, angel,” she mutters, catching your lips with hers. You grin against her mouth, stroking your hand through her hair. She wraps a strong arm around your waist and pulls you into her lap, enveloping you in a tight embrace. She inhales deeply, relishing in your comforting and affectionate presence.

“I love you so much,” she mumbles, pressing a few fleeting kisses to your collarbones. You wrap one arm around her neck and use your other hand to push her bangs back, caressing her forehead with your lips tenderly. “I love you more than words could ever say,” you respond, giving her another soft smile.

[dykeogenes]

I’ve seen a really concerning trend in how some well-meaning people online are talking about Israel and Gaza, where they’re outright saying that any and all mainstream media coverage of the assault is propaganda. I saw a post saying word for word that the only reliable source is social media posts from Gazans.

So I think it’s a good time to remind y’all that “every government and mainstream media source is lying to/manipulating you, and unverified social media posts are the only place you can get uncorrupted information” is word-for-word conspiracy theory. This is not a way of thinking that you should cheer for just because it’s coming out of the mouths of people you agree with.

Yes, every sort of media has bias, especially around a topic this politically fraught. Yes, you should absolutely question the narratives and facts you’re being presented with. Yes, you should read coverage from multiple publications, in multiple countries, by multiple authors. And yes, you should even supplement that coverage with the type of up-to-the-minute first-hand accounts that social media is fantastic at providing. But having bias is not the same thing as lying. There is no global conspiracy where every world leader and media outlet on the planet has met behind closed doors and agreed to Do What Must Be Done to make Israel look good. And there are many, many journalists from around the world risking their lives on the ground in Gaza right now so they can report the facts as quickly and accurately as possible.

An updated version of this graph is appended to every article the CBC has posted about Palestine in the last few weeks:

If every Western media outlet is bending over backwards to make Israel look good, they’re doing a pretty shit job of it.

[nocturnalcharm]

Faking It (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

𐙚 prompt: charles forces you and logan to do a mission together in order to help you bond. 𐙚 cw: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, if this does well i’ll do a part 2 w smut ;) cussing, 𐙚 a/n:  thanks to everyone who's sent me req's! this wasnt a req but id already started it haha if youve sent a req ill try to get to it asap.... also so many ppl wanted to be added to a taglist but for the nsfw alphabet post i dont think it tagged like half the ppl?? so im sorry if u dont get tagged, im trying to fix it :)

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Professor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“(Y/N), it’s not me you should be apologizing to. It’s your team. That’s who you both let down.” He eyes flick between you and Logan.

“I’ll go apologize to them now.” You turn to leave.

“You too Logan.” Charles says.

On this latest mission, you needed to sneak into a factory and take down all of the enemies— But you and Logan were arguing so loudly, you alerted all of the rivals, turning a few quick sneak attacks into full blown fights. No one was badly injured but you still felt horrible about it.

“This is all your fault.” You mumbled, just loud enough for Logan to hear.

“My fault? You’re kidding.” He huffs.

“Shut up.” You walk ahead of him, on the way to the common room to see your team.

Everyone was sitting there, talking amongst themselves. Once you and Logan entered, they all stopped their conversations and looked at you.

“Guys. I am so sorry about this mission.”

“I’m sorry, extremely sorry, and I apologize for my behavior.” Logan mocked your expression of regret.

“You are such a child, Logan! I’m trying to apologize!” You raised your voice.

“I am too!”

“Can you two just stop?” Hank stood up, silencing you both. “Your attitudes have been getting in the way of every mission. If you guys can’t get along then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh..” You didn’t know how to respond. You couldn’t believe you let your dislike for Logan get in the way of your job, so much that they thought you shouldn’t be an X-Man anymore.

They all left the room, leaving just you and Logan to culminate in your thoughts.

“I think it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to get along any time soon.” He broke the silence.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He walked out, as you sat in the empty room.

The next day, Xavier called you and Logan into his office yet again. You were concerned, worried he might be kicking you off the team. But instead, he said he had a mission for you two.

“I need you to pose as a couple. You’ll be going to an upscale hotel in Manhattan. It’s a cover for a drug smuggling ring. You two will stay as guests in order to collect information. I need everyone that is there, guests and workers alike, to think you two are madly in love. We don’t know who could be involved, so we can’t have them think anything suspicious.”

“Professor, is that the best idea? We just blew the last mission because we couldn’t stop arguing.”

“If you two fail this mission, I will have no choice but to replace both of you. You are amazing at what you do, but your arguing affects everyone. Not just yourselves.”

“Okay. We won’t let you down.” Logan speaks up.

***

The trip to the hotel was long and frustrating. You two couldn’t agree on anything the entire time. You criticized his driving, he criticized what you put on the radio, and how loud it was. You called him an old man, which just resulted in the radio being turned off and continuing the last hour drive there in silence.

When you arrived, it was late afternoon. Logan, pretending to be your fiance, grabbed all the bags by himself and walked inside. The hotel was huge. It was upscale, classy. So fancy you were afraid to touch anything, in fear it might break.

“Hi! Checking in for Anderson.” He greeted the front desk clerk, giving his forged name. He dropped the bags on the floor and you wrapped yourself around his now-free arm, squeezing it.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She smiled back, “Let’s see. You had the penthouse, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re celebrating our engagement!” You beamed, holding out your hand, showing off your fake engagement ring.

“That’s lovely. Congratulations! We’ll have a bottle of champagne in your room for celebration.”

“Thank you so much!” You squeaked.

He finished the check-in process, then you headed to the top floor.

The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge, the size of a decent apartment. Just like the lobby, you were afraid to break something.

“Wow.. This is amazing. Only time I’ll ever get to stay in a penthouse and it’s with you.” You said, as he shut the door.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, c’mon we gotta go to the pool. Get changed.” He handed you your bag.

You opened it, pulling out your bikini. It was the only one you had, admittedly from a few years ago. You didn’t have time anymore to relax by a pool or go swimming in the ocean, so this swimsuit had to do. It was a simple black string bikini.

You went inside the bathroom to change. Once you had your swimsuit on, you felt a little self conscious at the amount of skin showing, but figured it’d help with the whole ‘can’t keep your hands off your new fiance’ vibe you and Logan needed to exude for this mission.

You walked out of the bathroom, faking confidence you didn’t have. Logan had taken the opportunity to just change in the living space since he was alone. He was wearing black swim trunks. It was funny, it looked like you two had matched on purpose.

“Wow.” He said quietly, clearing his throat.

“What? You like what you see?” You joked at his clear uncomfortableness with seeing you in such little clothing.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” He spat, grabbing two towels, the key, and exiting the room.

The second you were out the door, you both had big smiles on your face. His arm was around you, holding your side as you headed to the pool.

It wasn’t too busy, just a few kids with their parents, and a bartender at the outdoor bar. You told him you wanted a drink, so that’s where you headed first.

“Hey, can I get two Mojitos?” Logan asked, handing him the room key “And can you just charge it to our room?”

“Of course,” He started working on the drinks immediately, while you two sat and people-watched. He finished the drinks, and gave you them and the room key back.

You said thank you as you walked off, hoping Logan would just follow. There was a small hot tub that was empty, so that’s where you went. You stepped in carefully, afraid of slipping, and sat down in the warm water.

“Really?” Logan whispered, a fake smile still adorned on his face.

“This is what couples do, Logan. And we’re a couple for this weekend. So sit down and act like you love me, sweetie.” Your grin was starting to hurt your cheeks.

He sat down across from you, and you mentally rolled your eyes. You got up, and repositioned yourself, sitting in his lap, “What part of ‘act like you love me’ are you not getting?” 

He was frozen for a moment, caught off guard but quickly acted like he was happy to have you there, to not draw suspicion. You both took sips of your drink, as you continued to nonchalantly looked around.

You two stayed at the pool for awhile, taking mental notes of the guests and employees you saw. Honestly, this hotel didn’t seem too strange. But Xavier said it was a front so you guessed that’s why it seemed so normal, for their cover.

Once your drinks were empty, and the sun had started to go down, you both decided to head back up to the room. He got out drying himself off before wrapping you up in your towel. He picked you up and carried you bridal-style to the penthouse.

“Logan!”

“What? Just acting like I love you.” He smirked.

Once inside the room, he set you down. “I’m gonna go shower.” You stated, not really knowing what to do. 

He just nodded, walking off to the kitchenette. You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathroom.

***

You mentally cursed yourself as you scrambled through your bag, searching for a pair of pajama shorts you thought you packed, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“This cannot be real.” You whispered. The only other clothes you brought were jean shorts, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sleep in those.

You pulled out your oversized sleepshirt, putting it on. The hem landed right above the middle of your thigh. It was a little shorter than the length of a nightgown, so you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. You slipped on a pair of panties, snatched up your things, and exited the bathroom.

You immediately bumped into Logan, who was standing right outside the door.

“What the fuck?” You raised your voice, annoyed. “Why are you right outside the door?”

“I was about to knock. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”

“It’s all yours!” You sassed.

You walked over to the small kitchen, and see he had already opened up the champagne. You had a glass as you sat on a barstool, writing down some notes about the people you’d observed earlier. Pouring yourself another glass, you headed over to the bed.

Just as you made yourself comfortable, Logan came out of the washroom, in just a towel. You stared at his wet torso for a moment, hypnotized.

“My eyes are up here.” He laughed.

You looked up, embarrassed.

“Forgot my clothes. Hey, wait, why are you in the bed?”

“…Because I’m the girl?”

“You're also the short one. I can’t fit on that couch.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine. Unless you’re nervous. Never slept with a girl before, Lo?”

He sighed, clearly not wanting to argue, before taking his clothes and escaping back to the bathroom. You silently celebrated your victory.

He came out a few moments later, turning off the lights, sliding under the blankets and getting comfortable. You both ended up facing the same direction. If he was any closer, he’d be the big spoon, but there was a few inches separating you.

You adjusted your body, and accidentally felt your ass rub against him. You went rigid from humiliation, before scooting away slightly, ignoring it since he didn’t say anything.

You tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult, for many reasons. One, you’re not used to having someone else in your bed. Two, he was breathing heavily. Three, you couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was.

Of course, you knew Logan was attractive, you’d thought that since the moment you first saw him. But today, probably because of the faux-gagement, the touching, the flirting, you saw him differently. He was still getting on your nerves, but the flames between you two… His body… It was unlike before.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You twiddled your feet, moving around your body nervously, before unintentionally grazing your ass against his crotch again.

“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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[breathinlove]

sticky fingers ellie williams

read this

synopsis: you and your best friend got popsicles on a hot day, but ellie finishes hers first.

cw: swearing, dialogue heavy at first, homoerotic friendship i fear, hinted themes, dirty minded hoes who act oblivious, a whole lotta mouth and tongue but no nothang but slighhhhhttttlyyy nsfw.

a/n: idk what this is it just came to me as i had a popsicle in the morning lmao... i js missed writing.

you're walking home with one of best friends, ellie, after a day at the park. it was a boring and oppressively hot day. you had bought yourselves ice lollies to help survive the sultry weather.

"is it good?" ellie speaks, pointing to your yellow popsicle.

"yeah, ellie, it's good." you say, matter-of-factly.

"i love pineapple." she looks away from you as you come closer to the crossing, both you looking to the sides of the road in sync.

“i know, me too." you reply shortly, not giving her the time of day, rapidly crossing the street. ellie stays silent, but not for too long.

"well..." she mutters when she catches your trail.

"yes?" you know what she wants but you still play dumb. you're not gonna give it to her.

“just a taste—" she starts whining, and you cut her off.

“nope." that's all you say in response.

you turn the stick horizontally as you get to the middle of the ice lolly, you suck on it and she's snorts heavily. she seems to drag her feet along the sidewalk.

“please, it's so hot out here.” ellie insists on the subject.

"it’s not my fault you fucking gobbled yours." you giggle, flicking her forehead.

she lets out a cartoon-like ‘ouch’ and she pushes your arm.

"bruh, it was small." ellie complains before wiping sweat off her nape, where strands of hair stuck onto.

“doooon't caaaare.” you smirk.

you bite the ice off the stick and she looks like she's mourning its loss. ellie loves pineapple artificial flavoring, despite choosing not to eat too much actual pineapple because when you two ate a bunch of pineapple slices together, you ended up with prickled tongues and mouth ulcers. it wasn't fun.

you can read her expression well enough to let out a chuckle, almost choking on the juice that pools inside your mouth. she clicks her tongue at the sound of slurping coming from you, she focuses on the noise of lawn mowers on your neighborhood instead, but they're just as annoying.

"ellie." you mutter with a heavy breath, she can hear what remains on your tongue moving. she hums in response.

you know ellie's annoyed. you were friends, but you were afraid that you had spoiled her. whenever you denied her anything, she'd catch an attitude. and you liked teasing her. you thought she looked cute when she'd look away from you with a serious face over something so small as a popsicle.

“lukami.” you say, he contorts her face in confusion, and you slurp at the juices to clear your words.

“look at me." you repeat, now coherently, grabbing her cheeks.

“yeah? what do you want?" she looks at you, and you take a disgustingly loud and final slurp.

ellie knows the pineapple stick is gone now, and she didn't even get to taste it. she pictured herself tasting it off your lips, or even your tongue. she wondered if she'd able to feel the refreshment if she sucked on your tongue after all the sucking you did on that popsicle.

“guess what?” you smile, she takes a little too long to answer and you wonder what goes through her mind.

but well, she's nasty, isn't she? she wanted it, no matter if it meant licking around one of her best friend's mouth. she's upset, but she knows it's silly.

“what?” she shrugs.

"i have popsicles at home.” you say excitedly and you look giddy, your sugary fingers still on her face.

“whatever," she looked away, forcing away from your hold. "get those sticky fingers away from me."

"that's a great album, by the way." you ignore her demand, chuckling.

you mess with her cheeks, smearing her with the syrup on your hand. you left a spot on her lips, she licked it. finally, she knows what it tasted like and she yearns for more.

“you're so messy, ya know?" she smiles wide.

you look at your hand as she grabs and holds it where it was, against her lips. you stop on your tracks completely, feeling her tongue stick out of her lips and coming in contact with the pad of your fingers, it tickles. you giggle.

she hums at the sweetness of it and looks up at you from your fingers, what a kid!

"ellie, please, what's wrong with you?" you laugh, and she does too. sugar puts her in a good mood.

“should've just let me taste it.” she speaks.

you would've thought she was done but ellie takes your index finger inside her mouth for shits and giggles, her warm as the day tongue massaging your finger as she sucks on it.

“you're so stupid.” you say, using minimal to no strength to push her face with the hand she entrapped. she smiles around your finger.

you feel the desire to slide your finger further into her mouth to wipe that shit-eating grin of her face. you imagined how ellie would look when she gagged on it, the shock in her eyes would be amusing, you assume. these thoughts run around your mind.

you think she might have an oral fixation by the looks of it,you look around, making sure no one was watching this seemingly obscenity.

"god, ellie.." you sigh in defeat when she flutters her eyes shut. you watch, mind running around her soft features and braking on her pursed lips, tainted red from her late watermelon popsicle.

then she releases your finger, after god knows how long (now that your fingerprint is practically part of her tongue’s muscle memory). you snap back to reality, freshly cut grass smell hitting your nose and unbearable sun hitting your skin.

ellie looks proud of herself.

"it really was good. what flavors you got at home?" she asks and starts walking again. you clean your now spit dirty fingers on your shirt and walk with her, enumerating the flavors of popsicles your dad had bought and stacked in the freezer.

[redwing4life]

Forgotten Alarms

CHAPTER 1 | ASHES TO EMBERS

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of night terrors, trapped in small spaces, brief mention of reader being worried about bucky holding her weight, nothing else other than bucky being cute af

SUMMARY: When you get stuck in an elevator with your neighbour (who also happens to be your crush), you discover your interest in the firefighter isn’t as one-sided as you thought.

WORD COUNT: 2736

NEXT CHAPTER

“You’re late, doll.”

The teasing voice of your neighbour catches you off guard when you open your front door; your hand slaps over your heart as you jump from shock.

“Says you” you smirk as you come down from the surprise. You step out of your door fully, turning and pulling it shut behind you.

Bucky chuckles, locking his own door while you do the same. He can’t help but sneak another glance your way - a light blush creeping up your neck under his gaze.

You think you’d be used to him by now, have your little crush under control seeing as you find yourselves leaving for work at the same time regularly. And yet here you are, heart beating faster than you’d like while you fumble with your keys.

Despite being late for work, Bucky waits for you to finish locking up before falling into step beside you as you walk down the hallway to the elevator.

“So let me guess, you slept through your alarm again?” The firefighter raises a brow, amused by your flushed appearance - unsure if that’s his effect on you or the fact your shift started five minutes ago.

“Worse,” you wince, “didn’t even set the damn thing.”

If you didn’t love it so much so much, you’d be inclined to be offended at the snort of a laugh he lets out. “Oh, doll.” Bucky shakes his head with a grin still left on his lips.

“What ‘bout you, Barnes? Spend too much time doing your hair?”

One unamused glare your way and now you’re the one giggling. Walking up to the elevator, you press the button to go down before stepping back to face Bucky.

“I’ll have you know, I woke up looking this good” He winks at you, hoping you’ll accept his non-answer for an answer. But you both know why he woke up late.

He barely even fell asleep, now that his nightmares are back.

His screams travel through the thin walls at night, falling on concerned ears. You pretend as though you don’t hear his night terrors but he sees the slight tug at your brows the next morning, the way you’re desperate to ask if he’s okay. But you never do; you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You offered your help once, and you’re not sure you have the right to ask again.

“Who said you look good?” You tease, hoping to lighten the mood.

The elevator dings and the doors open. “Well the old lady whose cat we saved yesterday said I was the most handsome man in town” He smirks as you both step inside.

“Oh that’s high praise, Barnes” You reply, watching as he presses the ground floor button.

A comfortable silence falls upon the elevator as it roars back to life. Pulling out your phone, you fire a quick text to your boss to apologise for being late before shoving it back into your back pocket.

Bucky turns to you, “What time do you fin-“

A loud clunk sounds from above the lift and it stops moving, dropping a couple inches before coming to a halt again.

“Oh, shit” You all but whisper, almost afraid of speaking too loudly in case it sends you tumbling down.

“Well,” Bucky’s eyes are on the ceiling, “that didn’t sound great”

If you weren’t so nervous, you might slap him for stating the fucking obvious. Your eyes fall to your hand that’s grabbed his, not even realising you’d reached for him when the lift stopped.

Your cheeks burn crimson before you release the death grip you had on his wrist, ignoring the sparks resting beneath your fingertips.

“You okay, doll?” His voice softens when he sees the fear in your eyes.

“Umm..” You stutter, voice as shaky as your hands are.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky’s hands are on your shoulders now, “you’re shaking, Y/n. What’s wrong? What do you need me to do?”

Clenching your eyes shut, you take a deep breath. “Tell me we’re not about to fall to our deaths, please”

Your neighbour lets out a breathy ‘Oh, doll’ and strokes his thumbs over your shoulders. When you open your eyes, his blue ones bear into yours reassuringly, “We’re not gonna fall to our deaths.”

“This hunk of junk hasn’t been serviced in years but i’m pretty sure it’s just jammed or the powers cut out. Either way, we’re gonna be just fine” He continues.

You let out a wavering breath and nod slowly. “Okay. So what now?” You ask.

Bucky drops one of his hands to get his phone (much to your dismay), “I’m gonna call for the crew to come get us”

“Wait,” You frown, “why not press the help button?”

Bringing his phone to his ear, Bucky replies as it starts ringing. “Well, after Mr Garvey lugs his ass outta bed, he’d be calling them anyways. Might as well avoid being stuck here longer than we have to”

Ahh, Mr Garvey; the landlord to the whole building who also happens to be the laziest fucker around.

You mumble and ‘okay’ and roll your bottom lip between your teeth - completely unaware of the admiring eyes on you.

Eventually, a voice sounds from the other side of the phone and Bucky explains the situation, rambling off the information they need to find you. With a quick thank you, the call is over and you’re left with nothing but time to waste.

Your eyes follow the man before you as he approaches the far wall, sliding down it till he’s sat with one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee where he rests his elbow.

“It’s alright, doll. You can sit down, it won’t break anything” He cocks his head to side, eyeing up your hesitant features.

You choose to trust him; after all, he is the one best qualified to know what will and won’t make this obnoxiously small lift crash to the ground.

Letting yourself drop to the floor, you sit with your knees up due to the lack of space to stretch your legs. Bucky is right in front of you, the tight squeeze seemingly not bothering him.

“Great day to be late, huh” You scoff lightly.

“Yeah well, at least we’re together”

A laugh escapes you, drawing a confused expression from your neighbour. “Let’s not pretend as though you need me here. If it weren’t for me you’d probably be climbing outta this thing”

“You overestimate my abilities, sweets. I’m no spider-man” He replies. Those damn pet names make you blush every time.

“You know,” you tilt your head a little to the left, “I can’t think of anyone who still uses ‘doll’ or ‘sweets’ aside from you”

You swear there’s a glint in Bucky’s eye when he replies, “Do you blush when someone calls you ‘baby’ as much as you do when I call you ‘doll’?”

Thinking for a moment, you shyly shake your head in response; he raises his brows at you, as though your answer proves his point. You wonder if he’s old fashioned in other ways. If he’s one to buy his girl flowers or open a car door for them. Maybe he’s just as polite in bed, though you find yourself disappointed at the thought. God, you need to stop thinking of him like that, no matter how hot he would look between your-

“You seeing that fella from last week again?”

Bucky’s question brings you out of your day dreams and you’re surprised by it, unaware he had any interest in your love life.

“Peter?” He nods. “No, I don’t think so. We weren’t really one the same page, if that makes sense”

“How so?”

You shrug slightly, “He’s fresh out of college and looking for a fuck buddy, not a genuine relationship.” You look away from Bucky as you continue. “And even if I wanted that, he’s hardly mature enough to know what he’s doing”

With your gaze settled on your hands, you miss the way Bucky starts biting his lip as he wonders what type of man would fulfil your needs. He shakes his head clear of those thoughts, not wanting to make a fool of himself.

“What about you? Haven’t heard any visitors at yours for a little while” You comment, hoping he doesn’t think you’ve been spying on him.

He lets out a dry laugh, “Lets just say I prefer my nights off with a beer and listening to you play the piano.”

“Oh god, you hear that?” You cover your face with your hands when he nods. “I hope I don’t disturb you. I didn’t think it-“

“It’s fine, doll,” he nudges your thigh with his boot, “I like it”

Your cheeks burn yet again as you drop your hands. “You do?”

“How could I not? You play beautifully. I’ve thought of slipping a request under your door but I didn’t wanna be the creep next door”

You giggle, “You couldn’t be creepy if you tried, Barnes”

“In that case, you should know my cat loves your music too”

With a gasp, you lean closer to Bucky till you’re sat cross legged barely a foot away from him. “James Barnes, the firefighter, has a cat!?”

You revel in his hearty laugh, eyes dancing across his face. From the crinkles at the corners of his eyes to the deep smile lines framing his mouth, you can’t help but be drawn to his beauty.

He sobers up. “Her name’s Alpine.” He says, “She was left at the firehouse a couple of years ago so I took her home with me. She’s probably the only thing that loves your music more than me”

A grin tugs at your lips as you enjoy the thought of your neighbour cuddled up with a little cat.

“If we make it outta here alive, I wanna meet her”

“We’ll be fine, doll. The crew’ll be here any minute now”

You hum and silence consumes the air once more. The soft dim glow of the overhead lights falls gracefully on your features and Bucky can’t pull his eyes away. He knows you’re not too fond of the situation you’re both in and yet he can’t help but thank whatever beings made this happen; to finally have an excuse to talk to you longer than your usual small talk, to tell you how much he’s in awe your piano playing.

He’s not ready to tell you that he’s rather in awe of you, too. Maybe next time you’re stuck in a lift together.

With the silence so heavy on your ears, your mind drifts to the reason you’re here in the first place. The reason he is here.

The nightmares.

You know he hasn’t slept properly in weeks; the dark circles beneath his eyes are just a glimpse of his exhaustion. And as much as you’re scared of pushing him away, the weight on your chest is growing too heavy to bear.

“I know you’re having nightmares again.”

Bucky stills.

“Those screams, James, I-“

“It’s nothing” He cuts you off with stern words. Your brows pull together, eyes laced with worry.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. I thought they got better.“

His head falls back against the wall behind him, “Well you thought wrong.”

You curse yourself beneath your breath as you run your hands through your hair, searching for the right thing to say.

“I’m worried about you, James.” You breathe, eyes fluttering shut. You’re scared that if you look at him, you’ll cave in and promise to never ask about it again. “I get that i’m just your neighbour but I can’t keep acting like I can’t see there’s something wrong.“

“There is nothing wrong!” Bucky’s tone is sharp, not quite shouting but no longer calm.

Your eyes snap open, training on the clench of his jaw, the sole hint of any emotion on his face.

“I’m dealing with it. So you need to stop acting like you know me because you don’t.”

And there it goes. The worry in your chest morphs into regret. Regret for bringing it up, regret for thinking you could help, regret for hearing his screams in the first place.

“Okay”

Bucky hates how timid your voice is, barely loud enough over the ringing of his own heartbeat. That and the voice in his head telling him he’s a piece of shit. He wishes he could take it all back but he doesn’t know how to, so he decides that silence is better than opening his damn mouth and making things worse.

The pair of you sit there in silence, one that’s far less comfortable than before, and stare at the ceiling, waiting for help to arrive.

When it does, you count your lucky stars that the lift stopped just at the doors to the second floor. Bucky helps the crew pull the doors open enough for you both to climb through. You feel his blue eyes on you as you wait for them to stabilise the lift, avoiding his gaze at all costs.

“Okay, Ma’am,” One of the firefighters calls, the name ‘Rogers’ written on his jacket, “we need you guys to climb up here and we’ll pull you out.”

Your eyes widen at the thought of pulling yourself up there, suddenly very aware of your frankly appalling upper body strength.

Rogers catches the hesitation on your face. “Don’t worry, Buck will help you up so you can get out first”

Turning to look at your neighbour, you lock eyes for the first time in ten minutes. His lips are turned into an awkward half smile, changing his entire demeanour from one of a brooding firefighter to a sheepish kid.

You don’t know how long the pair of you stand there staring at each other, but it’s long enough for Roger’s to clear his throat in attempt to regain your attention.

Bucky steps closer to you while the crew get ready above you. “You okay with this, doll?”

You nod, “As long as this thing doesn’t fall while i’m half way through and snap my body in half, i’m good”

That heartwarming laugh fills your ears and the firefighter shakes his head in amusement. At least he doesn’t hate you enough to leave you to get out on your own.

“Well lucky for you, that ain’t gonna happen”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “Okay, how is this gonna work?”

Bucky moves to stand below the gap, facing you. He lowers himself down to one knee before reaching for your hand.

His skin is warm but rough, gentle but strong as he pulls you closer to him. The unexpected tug on your hand sends you tumbling toward him, your right hand bracing yourself on his shoulder to regain your balance while his free hand lands on your hip.

You mumble an apology, flustered at the intense heat beneath his hands and the way Bucky is looking up at you.

“You good?” He asks, voice dripping with awe, though you’re oblivious to the admiration, still plagued by the way he shut you down earlier.

When you nod, Bucky removes his hand from your hip and taps his knee. “You’re gonna step on my knee, then on my shoulder and you then should be close enough for Steve to grab you and pull you out”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you” You admit, nervous at the thought of letting Bucky take your body weight on his shoulders.

He looks up at you through his lashes “Do you trust me, sweets?”

“Yes” You reply, not even having to think about it. There may be some walls between you, but you know he’s on the other side, waiting.

“Good, then get up here”

Bucky shouts up to the crew that he’s giving you a boost now and after hearing them shout back that they’re ready, you place your foot on Bucky’s knee and push yourself up.

“Don’t drop me” You warn, reaching up to the gap in preparation.

“Wouldn’t dream of it”

And with that, you climb onto your neighbours shoulders and stretch up for Steve to grab your hands.

Along with Bucky pushing your feet up, Steve pulls you out and you slide through the gap until you’re free of that god forsaken elevator.

“Well thank fuck for that” You groan, spread across the floor on your back, making the crew laugh.

You barely have time to recover before Bucky is stood above you, having lugged himself out with ease.

“Guess you won’t be forgetting to set your alarm again, ay?”

NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: first chapterrrrrr! hope you enjoyed, if you have any questions dm me or drop an ask <3

new chapter will be out soon, thanks to everyone to voted on the poll i put out, i hope it’s as good as you wished it would be :)

comment if you’d like to be added to my ashes to embers taglist 🧡

[sanjisblackasswife]

Gojo Hearing “I Love You” for the First Time

I gen. have no clue if anywhere in the series anybody has said they loved gojo. Whether platonic or not. Its interesting and I was just thinking.

CW: Mentions of Gojo’s Past(some canon some not…so spoilers ig if you haven’t read the inventory arc), Established Relationship, Mentioned Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Some Angst(?), Soft Gojo, Reader speaks Spanish because I’m projecting 😋, Kisses

Blk!Fem Reader in Mind

“AND THAT’S WHY I DO NOT LIKE PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES!..IT WAS VOMIT EVERYWHERE!”

“Can’t believe you managed to eat 6 boxes of cookies in one sitting.”

“Hey! Don’t judge it was a marathon of Digimon playing all day…good times. Not as good as the time—“

And there he goes again, your big over 6’6” boyfriend laying on his back on the couch having another yap fest after a long trip. It started off with a quiet evening of you both eating and watching a childhood movie to then actually sharing stories of your past.

You really couldn’t be more enamored by how excited Satoru gets when he speaks to you. His smile is wide from ear to ear and his dimples grow deeper. He’s also so expressive with his hand gestures you really don’t know where to look as you lay comfortable on his big broad chest.

Usually when he begins to speak about his life before you, you try to absorb and savor every moment. Since your friendship in high school Gojo wasn’t much of a talker (ironically) about his life, but as you both grown closer since his big mission with Geto to watch over Riko he managed to get a bit more comfortable with telling you more about himself.

It’s been 11 years since then and after some therapy sessions with you, Geto, and Gojo three of you managed to learn how to express yourselves in a healthier way with each other.

You watch now, almost 1 year into your official relationship with him and noticed he doesn’t talk much about his parents. Nor an adult in his life that was like a parent to him at the very least. Even when in High School you never met his family. You knew of his clan and that was all.

You always wondered where did he get his wild energy from? His dad? Where did he become so affectionate through touch? His mom? It was all a mystery you wanted to understand.

You’ve even asked Geto, his closest best friend what does he know about his mom and dad, but he always ends with “It’s better you wait until he tells you himself.”

You didn’t question it more, you respected the decision so thats exactly why you’re here. Watching and listening attentively to what your boyfriend has to say. It makes you happy seeing how much he has grown more comfortable towards you towards the years.

“And when I was 8 I remember my folks always gave me free range to use my technique whenever to practice, but boy they regretted after an hour because I—-baby.”

Without noticing your eyes blinked back at him as if you began to come back to reality again, Gojo seen the relaxed look you given him as he spoke, how your eyes were on his, but he just knew you—

“‘ not even listeninggguhhhh.”

Putting your thumbs on his pouty bottom lip, they’re so soft you smile at him, it wasn’t really something you’d expect to say to him, but his pretty big smile, his deepened dimples, everything about him caught you in a moment of venerability you just decided to softly speak at him;

“I love you.”

…just like that it was a pause.

It just slipped off the tongue. You meant it, but finally saying it out loud was a bit of a shock to not just you, but more Satoru. He had an unreadable look on his face, almost as if he didn’t catch what you said, but he definitely did. He couldn’t miss the way his body tensed up hearing those three words.

“What?”

Gojo didn’t say anything, almost as if it was a staring contest you rise from his chest to straddle him, “Are you okay?”

You jumped feeling the pads of his thumb dig into the fattiness of your hips, almost as if he were trying to massage you….very painfully. He got up though, placing you down on the couch and walking to the nearest bathroom without saying a word or looking at you. You could’ve sworn he wiped his face momentarily.

“Go—?”

He didn’t mean to, it was almost a reflex. Your words though, kept replaying in his head . He felt a bit silly being so dramatic , ironically but he couldn’t properly process what you said.

“Satoru?” You knock on the door breaking him away from his thoughts, “You okay, papa? I—oh.”

He opened the door, putting back on his eye mask and giving you one of the fakest smiles you ever seen him do.

“What are you doing, you okay?”

“yeah yeah I’m fineeeee. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“W-wait!” You playfully scoff at his eagerness as he pulls you to the front door, “I’m sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable….I know it was sudden and random, but I meant it.”

Gojo turns and exhales, clearing his throat he begins to scratch the back of his head, you can tell he is scrambling for words so you continue; “I do love you Satoru. A lot. I think I always have since we were younger, but I don’t know…today made me realize I should verbalize it.”

He wants to speak, but for one of the first times you left him wanting to just listen to you. Honestly you took advantage of it because who knows when you’ll be able to get him this quiet.

“I love your smile, I love your laugh, I love the way you explain things, I love the way you are, I love the way you care, I love how you can get on my nerves.” You ends the last part with a giggle making him finally chuckle with you, and he brings you closer to his chest. “I love you, Satoru. You are an amazing person and I am very blessed to have you as not only a friend but a partner.”

It was all too much, he felt overwhelmed he had to lift his mask to wipe the tears welling on the side of his eyes, he chuckles again, the free hand on your waist tightening, “Well damn if I didn’t know better I’d think you have a crush on me.”

You laugh, “Maybeeee…..Now. “ You smooch his cheek before grabbing your phone, “Let’s go get some food—-“

You tried walking past him towards the door but he grabs you from behind to hug you close, you can hear his shallow breaths in your ear. You’re used to his tight squeezes from behind but this one was firm. Almost as if he let you go you’ll fly away.

“Say it again.”

You smirk, his voice quivering but trying to be masked by a fake pouting tone, “I love you, Satoru.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again, but in Spanish.”

“Oh brother.”

“C’mon you sound hot when speaking Spanish.”

“Te amaré para siempre, Satoru…”

If words could explain how he felt right now with you, the closest would be a weight being lifted off his shoulders. For a moment he no longer was Gojo the strongest sorcerer, he was Satoru.

Just Satoru.

Something he wanted to be for a long time, and now you are helping him take the first step into that.

You inhale his scent; mint, expensive cologne and his natural musky smell you love so much and rub his head as he is still buried in your neck. You turn to face him and grab his cheeks, almost hesitantly to cup them because you weren’t sure if he’d left you see him cry. Though you felt your shoulder dampen.

However he let you, his big blue eyes surrounded by a tint of pink, he tried laughing it off and he actually broke eyes contact with you, “I …um…heh..fuck—“

You knew what he was trying to say but you don’t force him, instead you place your lips on his, you felt him exhale, his body relaxing in your touch, “I know, Satoru. I know.”

Gojo couldn’t properly register why he was so overwhelmed with whatever he is feeling right now but he wouldn’t trade this feeling in the world. He honestly wanted to replay the moment you said you loved him on repeat all day.

Later that day you both go out and have your own last minute date for the evening, he wanted so badly to tell you he loves you back by trying to incorporate more of the word “love “ in his vocabulary, by saying things like “I know you LOVE this.” Or “Wouldnt you LOVE for me to take you here.” but it was hard and he sounded silly.

Satoru wanted so badly to tell you he doesn’t just love you, but he has fallen IN love with you.

Gojo finally found just one more person that gave him something he didn’t realize he needed;

To feel human.

[aviiarie]

cws & notes: reader (and kaveh) are VERY implied to be aromantic or on the aromantic spectrum. mentions of kissing. lots of platonic affection. platonic kaveh & gn!reader. 1.1k words. wrote this for myself tbh

“So are you two dating?”

You wish you could say it's the first time you've heard the question. And you wish you could bring yourself to be annoyed about hearing it again, but you know there's no malice or spite in the words. Only a polite sort of curiousity, unaware of the way your stomach turns at the thought.

And maybe you wish you could tell Nilou 'no, we're not, why would you think that?' but you know your hand is intertwined with his, and his knee is touching yours, and you have his cheek leaning against the top of your head. You know how it looks, but that never mattered. It felt comfortable, like you fit together just right. Affectionate, with no strings attached.

That was the part that no one seemed to get. You and him were at an understanding that seemed to make sense to no one but yourselves; the squeezing hugs, and nicknames, and nights spent staying up until 3am didn't mean a thing. When you fell asleep on his shoulder, when he chastely kissed you goodbye before leaving on a work trip, it wasn't because you both harboured a secret love you were too shy to say out loud.

You adored him, of course. He was your best friend. But that was it; no strings.

There were always those who couldn't wrap their heads around the thought, the ones who insisted that they had to be at least into each other a little bit. So much time spent being friends, such closeness had to speak to a blossoming romance that just hadn't quiet bloomed yet, right?

What they didn't know was you had tried, your senior year at the Akademiya. It was after all of the comments about how odd it was that they were so close without being a couple finally started to get to them. During a party hosted by a classmate you don't remember the name of, when the teasing and jabs had gotten a little too much, you had found him taking a breather out on the front steps.

Conversation came easily, comfort came quietly, and soon the topic shifted to what people were saying. It was always talk, rumours, gossip. But he could see how they were weighing on you. He could see the look of doubt in your eyes, wondering if this was something you were supposed to want.

If you can't bring yourself to fall for the most important person in your life, then what was wrong with you? Was love a prize that you were never going to win, a lock that you're never going to find the key for?

“Will you kiss me?” You blurted out, and his eyebrows raise. “J-Just once. I just... everyone keeps telling me I'm supposed to like you, and you're supposed to like me, but I just...”

“You want to see?” Kaveh asked hesitantly. You swallow, and nod. “I don't want to do something you don't want to do.”

“I want to. Please, I... I don't want to ask anyone else.” You paused, before quietly adding on, “If there's truly something wrong with me, I want to know now.”

The pinch between Kaveh's eyebrows deepened, but there was a flicker of vulnerability behind his eyes. Some part of him was flashing with the same fear, wondering if there was something wrong with him too, all because he couldn't muster up enough emotion to see you in a romantic light.

Carefully, he placed his hand on your cheek, bringing your face closer to his. There was a pause, before he met your lips in an awkward kiss. There were no sparks that crackled against your mouth, no butterflies in your stomach. It was a unpleasant clashing of teeth together, with your cracked lips pressing against his soft ones for a second too long.

You pull away, face flushed with embarrassment more than anything. “I... I don't think I want to do that again.”

“Me neither.” Kaveh grimaced. He sighed, leaning back to give you a bit more space. “Why do you worry so much about what they say?”

“Because! I'm supposed to enjoy it, aren't I?” There were tears in your eyes, but you didn't care. If there was one person you could cry around, it was him. “What is wrong with me? Why can't I even fake it?”

“You don't need to!” Kaveh said quickly. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Maybe... maybe some people just don't like that sort of love. I know I sure don't, and I've known you long enough to figure out you don't either. We don't have to be a couple to care about each other, right?”

You stared at him, slightly dazed. “...I guess not.”

And since that night, you've never been able to forget his words, and the way he said them. It was like your world got shifted around, and nothing seemed quite the same. All the stress about love, all the worry about whether people thought you were a couple seemed so insignificant all of a sudden.

Yet, your new lighter worldview never stopped that burning question, that followed the pair of you like a shadow.

“So, are you two dating?”

The question echoes in your head, sounding over and over. Nilou is still staring at you, waiting for an answer, although her gaze occasionally flicks to your linked hands resting on his lap.

“We're just friends,” Kaveh responds smoothly. He lets go of your hand long enough to wave away the question, laughing lightly. “Honestly, the amount of times I've been asked that...”

“O-Oh!” Nilou's eyes widen, and her cheeks turn pink. Part of you feels bad for making her look so flustered, but the uncomfortable twist in your gut reminds you that it was her question that started it in the first place. “I didn't mean to assume... you just look so close!”

“We are.” He smiles gently. “But I can assure you we are very happy as friends. Neither of us are interested in that sort of relationship, much less with each other.”

She nods, as if she understands, but there's still confusion behind her expression.

It didn't matter. People didn't have to get what was so special about the two of you. They didn't have to understand what you had, and what you lacked, and why it didn't make much of a difference at all.

You were friends, best friends. And that was plenty enough love for the both of you.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[hazbinshusk]

husk x reader. requested by @jazziesanura. husk might be part feline, but his bird-like traits affect him too. so when the object of his affection is around, ever so occasionally, he finds himself singing.

featuring: 1.2k of pure fluff and a bashful husk being a gentleman.

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

There were countless reasons you liked to linger in the lobby rather than up in your room, despite the chance of being enlisted in any number of tasks by the owner of the Hazbin Hotel. You’d hung more celebratory banners than you cared to count, but still, you often spent your time curled up on one of the lobby sofas with a book or one of Charlie’s latest art projects in your lap.

Sometimes the reason you preferred it was the endless entertainment provided by Niffty’s endless war on bugs.

Sometimes it was that Angel would grace you with his presence before work and you’d find yourselves swapping overly salacious stories that would make the spider demon cackle with joy.

Occasionally Pentious would slither downstairs in order to introduce you to his latest complicated creation, and sometimes his little eggs would find themselves in a turf war with Razzle and Dazzle and you’d be in tears trying not to laugh as you separated them.

But – even though you wouldn’t admit it aloud – there really was one real reason you liked to stay in the lobby.

Because every now and then, if you were lucky…

Husk would sing.

When the bar was empty and the other guests and staff were elsewhere, occasionally you’d hear the soft tenor of Husk’s voice ebb out to fill the space between you. He never sang very loud, just a soft crooning to himself as he polished glassware or wiped down the polished wood in front of him. It would just barely reach your ears, but it relaxed you and filled you with the most addictive feeling of butterflies all at the same time.

The strangest thing about it was, whenever you asked those who also spent time alone with him, no one else had ever noticed him sing.

“What song is that?”

You’d broken your own rule about interrupting him, and you cursed yourself silently as Husk stopped mid-lyric, letting out a small ‘wrrr’ of surprise as he looked up. He looked startled, even embarrassed by the question, pale pink blooming across his muzzle.

You grimaced apologetically as you stood up. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he replies gruffly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Still, you notice his tail twitch almost warily behind him.

“It’s nice,” you continue gently. When his brows furrow you explain, “The song. It’s pretty.”

“Oh.” Husk clears his throat, setting the glass he was holding down on the counter. “You, uh… you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

***

Your smile is softened by the alcohol buzzing in your brain, and you lean your temple on your hand. Husk’s own lips are tilted in a similar smile as he pours the two of you fresh glasses of something he calls a ‘rusty nail’. It burns pleasantly down your throat and against your lips, and Husk hums approvingly as you toss back half the glass.

“Gotta say, sweetness, I never figured you’d be able to handle the booze as well as you do.” he notes, pouring the dregs from the shaker into your glass. “’s impressive.”

“’s not all I can handle,” you reply without thinking, and your face burns.

Husk blinks at you, eyes wide, for a moment before he coughs a laugh, shaking his head. His voice lowers and softens when he speaks next, and it send the warmth from your cheeks down to pool in your stomach. “I don’t doubt it.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment, an amused tilt to his lips, before you glance away again to take another sip of your drink. You clear your throat, trying to find a way to change the subject. You couldn’t let yourself focus on the way his expression, his tone of voice, was making you feel.

“So, uh… you gonna tell me what that song was?”

Husk glances down at the bar, rubbing a paw through the fur of his neck. “’s nothing. Just an old… ‘s nothing.”

“I liked it,” you tell him gently, your glass held just below your lips. “I always like it when you sing.”

Husk grimaces bashfully. “You hear that?”

You nod, still smiling. Maybe it’s the alcohol that loosens your tongue, maybe it’s the way that even though his tone is embarrassed, his eyes are watching your every reaction so carefully. Maybe it’s just being with him but you simply admit: “It’s my favorite thing.”

Hush flushes, dithering uncertainly for a moment before he meets your eye again. He studies your face, your expression, and your sincerity before he throws back the rest of his drink and sets the glass back on the counter. Husk rounds the bar and with a moment of hesitation, holds out a paw to you.

“C’mon.”

You raise a brow but take it, letting him pull you gently off the bar stool and lead you towards the middle of the lobby. He turns to face you, your hand still enclosed in his. His other hand comes up to hover near your waist and those butterflies swirl inside you again dizzyingly.

“…Can I?”

You nod slowly, confused, and a thrill runs through you as he touches your hip. His hand smooths over it to let his claws curl carefully against the sliver of skin between your shirt and the waistband of your jeans, and you release a shaking breath. He gives you a small, bashful smile, stepping closer to you, and his smile widens slightly despite himself when your breath catches.

“Relax,” he tells you softly, and when your free hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, he leads you into a slow, surprisingly graceful movement that’s something akin to a waltz.

His body is warm against yours and your fingers curl in the soft fur on his bicep, threading carefully through the silky hair. He hums a quiet tune for a few moments, leading you along with it, and you find yourself settling into his embrace as he begins to sing.

“I ran around with my own little crowd,

The usual laughs, not often but loud.

And in the world that I knew,

I didn’t know about you.”

His voice is honeyed and warm in your ear, his touch tingling against your back and against your palm. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, feeling as though you’ve been dipped directly into the melted caramel of his sweet tenor.

“Chasing after the rain

On the merry-go-round.

Just taking my fun

Where it could be found.

And yet what else could I do?

I didn’t know about you.”

You hesitate for a moment before releasing his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, letting your fingers twine in the fur at the back of his head. Husk’s hands take hold of your hips, sliding around to interlock against the small of your back. You hear him swallow, his voice shaking slightly as he begins the next verse.

“Darling, now I know,

I had the loneliest yesterday,

Everyday in your arms

I know for once in my life I’m living.

Had a good time every time I went out,

Romance was a thing I kidded about.

How could I know about love?

I didn’t know about you.”

Husk pulls back slightly, meeting your gaze with hooded eyes. The two of you are just swaying now, locked together in an embrace you never want to end. There’s an almost rueful curve to his lips.

“I didn’t know about you.”

.

Author's note: for those interested, the song is I Didn't Know About You by Duke Ellington. If you would like to hear a masculine voice singing it (although sadly not Husk's), I'd personally recommend Seth MacFarlane's version. It's absolutely beautiful.

[thoseboysinblue]

Last Call

Christian Pulisic x Reader

You celebrate Christian's last night in London with him.

Warnings: Cursing, smut (under 18 dni)

"Congratulazioni!" you raise your glass towards Christian as your group of friends celebrates his impending move to Italy. It's his last night in London before he goes to Milan for his official signing with his new team.

"Grazie," he grins as he taps his beer against your glass.

You glance around, thankful to be able to spend one last night with Ben, Mason, and Christian and a few others before it feels like everyone is going their separate ways.

"It's the end of an era," Ben smiles as he drapes his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a hug knowing you are by far the most emotional about your little group splitting up for the foreseeable future.

"Stop it, you're gonna make me cry," you shove him playfully.

"No tears tonight, sweetheart," Mason grins as he offers you his hand and pulls you up to dance with him.

"You could just tell him you know," he rolls his eyes as he spins you around.

"Tell, who what?" you knit your eyebrows together.

"Tell him," he nods towards Christian, "that you fancy him," he chuckles.

"What?" you shake your head, "why would I do that?"

"You really want to pretend that you two don't flirt relentlessly with each other?" he smirks.

"We don't," you stammer, "I'm actually incapable of flirting," you chuckle.

"Right," he smiles.

"Seriously, Mase, if I seem like I'm flirting I'm not, if I'm trying to flirt, it's a complete awkward disaster," you scoff.

"Well, I'll tell you a secret, only because he's leaving, but, if you wanted to flirt with him, he's not opposed," he winks.

Hearing that causes your cheeks to flush as you shake your head trying to clear your thoughts.

"Game face on," he leans down and says lowly in your ear, "he's coming over."

"Can I cut in?" Christian asks as he and Mason share a fist bump before he takes your hands and guide them around the back of his neck.

"There's my favorite London girl," he grins at you.

"Favorite London girl, huh? You have a favorite girl in every city or something?" you grin.

"Not at all," he turns you around so that your back is pressed against his chest and his fingers are gripping slightly at your hips.

He takes a minute to savor the way you feel against him before dipping his head to run his nose along your neck, inhaling the slightly sweet and floral scent of your perfume before barely grazing a kiss behind your ear.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps as your eyes flutter closed at his movements.

"You gonna send me to Italy without reminding what those lips feel like on mine?" he speaks directly into your ear causing heat to flare at your core.

It's not a big secret that you and Christian have found yourselves sharing a slightly tipsy make out session on more than one occasion, but that's as far as it's ever gone between the two of you. However, the way he's gripping at your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him makes you think that maybe he wishes that was different.

"Italy's not that far, Christian," you smirk, "and I'm sure you'll have plenty of new favorites lining up for you when you get there, you won't even miss me."

"Of course I will," he scoffs, "miss you, I mean, but we don't have to miss each other, y/n, like you said, Italy's not that far," he shoots you a devilish grin that you're sure could get you into trouble.

"LAST CALL" you hear blare out over the loud speakers announcing that the club you're in will be closing soon, interrupting your conversation with Christian.

"Last call, y/n" he mumbles, his lips only inches from yours.

"We better go," you take a step back from him and swallow harshly, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Yeah, we better go," he says somewhat defeated.

You settle your tab and make your way to the exit saying good night to everyone.

Mason pulls you into a hug and whispers "just do it, y/n" before giving you a brief smile.

"Come see me?" Christian says as he pulls you into him and you bury your head against his chest knowing this could be the last time you see him for a while.

You nod looking up at him, a mixture of hope and desperation in his eyes.

"You're going to do so well there, I just know it," you whisper before placing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"See ya around, Chris," you force a smile as you blink back tears and slide into your waiting Uber.

As you pull away you watch Christian watching your car before hopping into his own Uber.

You're not sure if it's the way he was looking at you as you left or the slight confidence boost from the small amount of alcohol you've consumed, but you pull out your phone and send a single text, a pin location for the address for the small townhouse you rent just outside of the city.

You can see that he's read your text, but there's no reply so you drop your phone back into your bag and lean your head back against the seat and let a couple of tears finally fall from your eyes.

Your car drops you off at your house and as you are unlocking the door you hear another car pulling into the driveway. You turn to see Christian climbing out of the backseat and making his way up the small path towards you.

"Hey" he grins as he trails his eyes up and down your body, fully appreciating you.

"Hi," you smile as your stomach somersaults.

He follows you inside watching as you kneel down to unbuckle the straps on your heels as kicks his own shoes off. He offers you his hand as you stand back up, sighing as your feet relax against the cool tiles.

"Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea? A snack or anything?" you ask quietly as he trails behind you on your way to the kitchen.

"Water would be good," he smirks.

You hand him a bottle of water from the fridge, pulling one out for yourself as well as he leans against the counter opposite from you.

You watch each other take a long drink before he reaches over and swipes his thumb below your bottom lip capturing the small amount of water that spilled.

"I'm guessing you didn't just invite me over for refreshments," he smiles as he skims his hand over your neck tilting your head back and tracing his thumb along the lower side of your jaw before licking his lips and running his nose along the column of your neck.

"No" you sigh, a breathy moan escaping as he kisses down your neck following the same path his nose had just taken.

"Then why did you invite me, y/n" he grins against you before tipping your chin forward again to force you to look him in the eyes.

Your cheeks flush, now a bit embarrassed to admit why you invited him over.

"I think you know why, Christian," you blink a couple of times and bite your lower lip softly.

"I do, but I want to hear you say it," he breathes out, his mind fuzzy at the sight of you standing in front of him too shy to admit what you want.

"I want," you start but stop to think of exactly what you want to say, suddenly intimidated by the man standing in front of you.

He nods, encouraging you to finish your sentence.

"I want you to go to Italy with the taste of me on your lips," you lean forward and whisper into his ear, as if confessing your innermost secret, and perhaps in a way you are.

"That's my girl," he chuckles before leaning down to capture your lips in a fiery kiss.

His hands roam over your body hungrily as you grip your fingers into his hair and moan into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours.

"You're sure about this," he says quietly as his kisses over your bare shoulder.

"Yes" you breathe out as his hands slide around to find the zipper at the back of your dress.

"Good" he smirks as he lowers the zipper and peels your tight strapless dress down your body.

"Jesus," he bites his lip as he looks at you in a black strapless bra and matching lace thong before crashing his lips to yours again.

"Where's your room?" he mumbles as he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his lean torso.

"Up the stairs, end of the hallway," you sigh before attacking his neck with kisses as he carries you to your room.

He settles you on your feet and nudges you towards the bed. He leans down and kisses you again, much slower and gentler until you your gripping at his biceps silently begging for more.

He quickly unhooks your bra and flings it across the room with a chuckle before pushing you down onto the bed and following you as you inch your way towards your pillows.

"God you're perfect," he groans as his eyes trail over your body and his thumbs graze over your nipples.

You gasp when he dips his head to pull one of them into his mouth while rolling the other between his fingers before kissing his way down your body.

He bites at the lace on your underwear, a quiet whimper escaping his lips as he runs his fingers over your core feeling the damp spot that's already there.

"Christian you don't have to," you sigh quietly.

"Oh but I do, baby, you wanted me to taste you remember?" he grins up at you from between your thighs.

"And honestly, I've wanted to do this for so damn long, I wouldn't dream of getting here and not getting a taste," he winks.

He slides your underwear down your legs, tossing them to the side.

"But if I'm only going to get one shot at this, you've got to tell me what you like, you can't go all shy and quiet on me, y/n, can you do that for me?" his eyes burn into yours, the warmth of this breath fanning across you causing you to squirm.

You nod silently before sitting up and nudging his shoulders so that he sits back on his knees.

"You have on too many clothes," you mumble against his lips before tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He smirks against your lips before pulling his shirt over his head, "Better?" he grins at you.

"Much", you smile against him as you kiss over his chest and work to unbutton the jeans he's wearing, grazing your fingers over his hardened bulge as he pushes his jeans down his hips.

"These too," you mutter as you toy with the waistband of his boxers.

Your heart flutters at the quiet chuckle that escapes his lips before he pushes his boxers down and tosses them onto the floor as well.

Your hand instinctively reaches for his hardened cock. You watch as his head tips back and a low groan rumbles from within his chest when you wrap your fingers around him.

"I can't wait to feel you inside of me," you whisper before kissing him deeply as you continue working with your hand.

He wraps his hand over yours, stopping your movement and pressing his thumb over his tip, "not yet," he moans, "I want to do something else first."

He gently nudges you, encouraging you to lay back down as he settles between your legs again and wraps his arms around your thighs holding you open.

He keeps eye contact with you while he drops a pool of spit down onto your pussy before lowering his gaze to watch as it runs to your entrance.

"So perfect," he mutters before dipping his tongue into your entrance.

You moan as he teases your folds apart with long languid strokes and your head falls back against the pillows.

He hums at the taste of you sending a vibration up your spine, "I could do this all night," he groans as you tangle your fingers into his hair.

You gasp when he flicks his tongue over your clit before sucking it lightly.

"Yes, that, I like that," you breathe out remembering he wanted you to tell him what you like.

"What about this?" he asks quietly as he slips two fingers into you and curls them against your gspot.

"Oh my god," you moan.

"Point taken," he chuckles as he feels you clench around him.

"You're gonna feel so good squeezing my cock like this," he moans against you as he continues bringing you closer to the edge.

"Please keep going, just like that, Chris," you pant feeling your high building incredibly fast.

"I got you, baby," he whispers as he presses down on your stomach with his forearm to keep you still.

"Fuck, I'm gonna," you moan as your orgasm washes over you, Christian moving to hold your legs open so that he can continue working you through it.

Once he's satisfied that you're coming down from your high, he uses his tongue to clean you up before placing a delicate kiss over your pubic bone.

He works his way up your body, kissing you softly before you push on his shoulders and turn him onto his back.

"It's only fair that I get a taste, too," you smirk as you kiss down his abs and over the smattering of hair just below his navel.

"You have a medical eval tomorrow?" you glance up to him.

"Yeah, why?" he chuckles.

"I'll try not to mark you up too bad," you wink.

"You can do whatever you want," he grins watching as you suck until you've formed a bruise just above his pubic bone, smiling down at your handiwork.

"Shit," he whispers as you wrap your hand around him again.

"Same rules, if I only get one shot, you have to tell me what you like," you wink at him before dropping spit onto him and working it over his hardened length with your hand.

"You can do that can't you, baby?" you ask him with a smirk as you swirl your tongue around his tip.

"Yes" he whimpers when you take more of him into your mouth, sucking lightly as you run your tongue along the underside of his shaft feeling him twitch in your mouth.

"Nope," he pulls you off of him quickly, startling you.

"Oh, um, am I not good at that? Did I do something you don't like?" you knit your eyebrows together in confusion.

"God no," he chuckles, "the opposite actually, I was gonna cum in like thirty seconds if I let you keep going," he tucks your hair behind your ear running his fingers along your jaw delicately.

"Oh," you giggle noticing the slight blush on his cheeks.

"I need to make sure I can last long enough to know what it feels like when you cum around more than just my fingers," he says quietly as you move to straddle him.

"You wanna ride me, y/n?" he asks raising his eyebrows seemingly shocked.

You nod shyly, "unless you'd prefer something else."

"Nah, I'd never turn down a show," he grins, bringing his hands up to flank your hips, drawing soft circles over them.

You lean down and kiss him, tangling your tongue with his as he moans into your mouth.

"You don't know how bad I've wanted this," he mumbles against your lips.

"Really," you ask him, puzzled.

"Really," he says firmly.

"I've wanted it too, for so long," you smile as you line him up with your entrance and sink down on him.

Your back arches as you take him fully, thoroughly enjoying the slightly painful stretch.

"Fuck," he moans as he throws his head back and closes his eyes.

"Goddammit, you're unreal" he groans when you clench around him.

"Please, baby," he whimpers as he lifts his hips begging you to move.

You steady your hands on his chest, rolling your hips a few times before beginning to bounce over him as he grips his fingertips into you.

He thrusts up into you, meeting your movements as you both settle into a rhythm you're enjoying.

He moves one hand to toy with your nipples still guiding your movements with the other.

"So good, y/n," he breathes out, groaning when you clench at his praise.

He trails his hand up to your chest, flattening his palm against you as you continue riding him.

He watches as you bring your fingers to his mouth before he draws them in and coats them with his saliva and you slide them down your body to your clit.

He slides his hand just a bit closer to your neck and bites his lip hoping you will pick up on his insinuation.

You nod and smirk when he wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes just slightly.

"Oh fuck," you moan quietly before he tightens his hand a bit more and your head falls back.

"You close?" he asks, using the pressure of his hand to tilt your head back to look him in the eyes.

You nod, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

"Cum for me, y/n, let me have it," he groans as he watches your tits bouncing perfectly.

With that your orgasm rips through you as you shudder and clench around him collapsing onto his chest.

He gives you a moment to stop spasming around him before he quickly flips you over without even pulling out of you.

He thrusts harshly into you a few times chasing his own high until his hips begin to falter and he spills into with a moan of your name.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, working to catch his breath while you run your fingers along his back.

He pulls out of you and flops down onto the bed beside you turning you to face him before you bury your head against his chest and he wraps his arms around you.

You place a few soft kisses over his chest and neck until both of you have steadied your breathing.

"I'm kinda pissed we waited until tonight to do that," he whispers as you nod.

"I'm gonna go clean up," you tilt your face up to his and kiss him gently.

When you emerge from the bathroom you find him pulling his jeans up his hips.

You stop in the doorway and blink a few times in confusion that he's leaving so quickly.

He looks up and can tell by the look on your face that you're disappointed.

He takes a few strides closing the gap between you and tilting your face up to look him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, I've got an early flight so I've got to go," he says with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"It's ok, I understand," you look down at your feet.

"I don't think you do," he says tilting your chin up again and kissing you.

"I'd love to stay," he whispers, "you're sending me to Italy with much more than the taste of you on my lips, y/n."

You blink back a few tears.

"You're sending me with every sigh, every whimper, every moan of my name burned into my memory," he grins as he kisses along your jaw.

"I'm not going to miss much about London, but I'll definitely miss you. Promise you'll come see me once I get settled, let me take you dinner, maybe an encore performance?" he raises his eyebrows.

A giggle escapes your lips at his words.

"There she is," he grins when you nod.

"I'm gonna miss you, too," you sigh, finally allowing a couple of tears to fall.

He wipes them away gently and kisses you again.

"I won't be that far away, we can still see each other and won't have to miss each other," he smiles.

"Let's just say, see you soon, ok?" he kisses your forehead as you wrap your arms around his waist.

"See you soon, Christian," you sigh as he pulls you closer to him.

Tag list:

@chilwellspulisic @neverinadream @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona @tall-tanned-tattoo @lizzypotter14 @xjval @notsoattractivearenti @landoslover @brasiliangp @judeswifeyyyyyyyy

[idiopath-fic-smile]

more Singin' in the Rain ot3, now on the honeymoon boat

part one

part two

The ship was a grand one. Cosmo, whose nautical knowledge began and ended with that Douglas Fairbanks picture about pirates, could tell that much. There was a majestic dining room and a wide, clean promenade and state-of-the-art engines that would get them to Europe in just a few days. The dining room even featured a four-piece band, who were a little stiff but not half bad.

His room, his island of privacy away from Don and Kathy and their combined magnetic pull, was bigger than he expected, well-appointed. It went a little overboard embracing an Egyptian theme, although the decorators had tastefully stopped short of including an actual mummy in a giant stone sarcophagus. He was grateful for that. The piano, as promised, sat in the place of where a desk might normally be, keys gleaming invitingly.

There was just one problem.

“How,” said Cosmo, dropping onto the bed, “did you manage to accidentally book us two adjoining rooms?”

“I’m sorry,” said Don, crossing his arms. “There must’ve been a mix-up at the offices.”

“Maybe the travel agent heard wrong on the telephone,” said Kathy. She rubbed Don’s back consolingly. Don shot her a grateful look. It was all very sweet, probably.

“How?” said Cosmo again. “Nothing sounds like ‘adjoining.’ It doesn’t even have a rhyme.”

“Are you certain?” said Kathy.

Cosmo nodded; he’d already run through the alphabet, twice. “The closest I can get to is ‘disappointing.’” Don was leaning into Kathy’s back rub like a cat, but his face was full of uncatlike guilt. “Don,” said Cosmo, “look, pal, I appreciate the free ticket, but please tell me you’ll fix this.”

“I already talked to the cruise director and there aren’t other rooms,” said Don. “We’re out in the ocean, what do you want me to do, alert the coast guard?”

“Alert the coast guard,” said Cosmo, “flag down a passing mermaid, strike a bargain with Poseidon himself!” 

“Who?” said Don.

“The Greek god of the sea,” said Kathy, like that was the important part.

“I don’t speak any Greek,” Don replied, “do you?”

“I will swim to shore,” Cosmo said, to nobody in particular.

“We can swap over to a different ship when we get to port if we need to,” said Don, shoulders slumping uncharacteristically. He must’ve felt worse about his screw-up than he let on. “In the meantime, the door locks from both sides, so—”

“I’m not—worried that you’ll barge in at all hours pestering me for a cup of sugar,” Cosmo broke in.

Don blinked. Kathy went very still beside him.

Out loud, it sounded more suggestive than he’d meant. Why had he picked sugar, the sauciest ingredient of the baking world?

“Or flour,” he amended.

“Then what’s the trouble?”

“I.” Cosmo sighed. “Why am I the only person in this room who seems to know what a honeymoon is for?”

“Why,” said Don, wide-eyed, “what’s it for?”

“D’you think, if I jumped in the sea and started paddling now—” said Cosmo.

“Don’t worry,” said Kathy. “Don and I can be very quiet.”

And the trouble was, this was worse. The prospect of hearing them from the other side of a single thin door was one thing, and honestly it was plenty bad—Cosmo had played a role during several key moments of their courtship but at least he could say he didn’t know what they sounded like in the throes of passion—but for reasons that Cosmo did not feel like examining, the thought of them stifling themselves in the act, the thought of them naked in bed together, touching each other, biting down on a giggle or a moan, and whispering, ‘Shh, don’t wake Cosmo,’ made him feel like his whole stomach was a sore tooth.

“Don’t put yourselves out on my account,” he told them. Belatedly, he realized that was maybe the worst thing he could’ve said. He blushed, and then he stood, face still flaming—Damn his Irish complexion—nodded to them both, and fled to the promenade.

.

The ocean stretched in all directions as far as Cosmo could see. It was dizzying, and also strangely calming. He stared out at the waves and reminded himself, hardly for the first time, that it wasn’t Don’s fault how Cosmo felt about him. It wasn’t Don’s fault, and it wasn’t Kathy’s fault that she was maybe the most charming woman he’d ever met. You could certainly blame Don for booking the rooms, for not double-checking over the telephone, but there was no malice to it. They were both, at the end of the day, wonderful people who had decided to open this trip up to him for whatever reason, and besides, his bed was piled with any number of pillows he could jam over his head if they did make noise at night.

He stood there holding onto the railing for a long time. Eventually, he heard footsteps behind him. 

“Feeling better?” said Don quietly, almost lost under the roar of the water. Without really trying to, Cosmo turned to look at him. Under his coat, Don was wearing a nicer suit than before, and the color had returned to his face. He looked—well, he looked like a handsome movie star married to a gorgeous starlet. Don took a few steps and rested his hands next to Cosmo’s on the rail.

“It’s the salt air, I think,” said Cosmo, nodding. “Feels like I could do anything. Why, I might write another musical, wear my trousers baggy, become a pirate.”

“Your trousers are fine as is,” said Don.

Cosmo shrugged. “A little change can be good.”

“Sure, unless it isn’t.” Don sighed. It was an awfully sad sigh to be having about the fit of a guy’s pants, Cosmo thought, but then Don turned to him and added, “You know, we really have missed you.”

“Don,” said Cosmo patiently. “I was at your house this Thursday. I stayed for three hours. I drank all your gin.”

Don didn’t make a crack about the gin, which was probably a bad sign. “And before that?” 

Before that, it had been a while. Cosmo winced inwardly. “I’ve been busy,” he said, “you’ve been busy, Kathy’s been busy—”

“We invited you over, four different times,” Don interjected. “If I’ve done something, if we’ve done something, I wish you would just tell us.”

In front of them, the sea rolled and rolled. Cosmo thought about deflection, about twisting the moment into a joke, a sword duel where cold steel met only an outstretched rubber chicken: squeak.

He let out a long breath. “Why the Hell did you bring me along on your honeymoon?”

“We brought you along because we wanted you along,” said Don. “Whenever you’re not there, we wish you were. It doesn’t need to be any harder than that.”

“So it isn’t…” Cosmo started.

“What?” “You and Kathy aren’t having problems? Hoping for a buffer, or a distraction?” It was a very new theory on Cosmo’s part, and once the words had left his mouth, he realized how badly they fit the facts at hand.

Don smiled a private little smile. “Me and Kathy are doing just marvelously.”

“That’s splendid,” said Cosmo, because he had to say something, apparently. Marvelous didn’t bode well for Cosmo’s sanity at night, but it beat his friends being sad. “Lovely.” He let his cadences drift into a so-so British accent. “Capital show, old sport. Tip-top. Simpy spiffing.” Not his best work. 

Don lay a hand on Cosmo’s coat sleeve, at the elbow. “Do you want to come to dinner with us?” he said. “It’s meant to be a formal affair but you’ve still got time to change.”

Whenever you’re not here, we wish you were. Obviously, Don didn’t mean “whenever” in the strictest sense—Cosmo got the feeling he was not present in Don’s mind, say, when Don was in bed with his beautiful wife—but the thought now made him feel warmer than the gin had. It would be enough. It had to be.

“Sure,” said Cosmo, “why not,” and Don thumped him encouragingly on the back.

“Cosmo,” said Don as they headed back into the body of the boat, “piracy, really?” Cosmo grinned. “Don’t blame me, blame that salt air. Makes a man feel like anything’s possible.”

.

Kathy and Don looked enchanting at dinner, and Cosmo cleaned up alright too, if he didn’t say so himself.

The food was good—salmon with hollandaise sauce and French beans, braised duckling with apple sauce, some fancy beef thing, salad Dumas and ice cream for dessert—and the band had relaxed a smidge and was playing something from this century, which was nice.

Over dessert, Kathy told them about how, one night several months before meeting Don, she’d been at a speakeasy during what turned out to be a police raid.

“What were you doing in a speakeasy?” Cosmo asked before he could stop to think about it.

“Why, drinking milk and reading Austen, of course,” she replied, a picture of guilelessness. Don snickered, and she grinned.

“I walked full-speed into that one,” said Cosmo.

“Buddy, you ran,” said Don.

“I was drinking,” Kathy acknowledged, nodding, “but really that’s where the best dancing is. The best music, too.”

Cosmo, who lately only drank at parties or at home because it was easier and safer, nodded thoughtfully.

“Hot jazz?”

“The hottest, at least in Los Angeles. Once we’re back, we should all go!”

“I could always stand to take in more culture,” said Cosmo.

“Oh no,” said Don, “don’t let her pull you into her sordid past. Did you forget the end of the story is ‘and then the police came?’”

“That’s more the middle,” said Kathy. “Well, middle-end.”

“So how’d you escape the reaching arm of the law?” Cosmo asked.

Kathy swallowed her ice cream. “I saw the police were all rushing in through the front door, and I dashed to the back and through the performers’ dressing room. I’d done makeup for some of my school plays, so I fought my way up to the mirror, grabbed a grease pencil—a few lines here, a few lines there—borrowed an old coat of the back of a chair, ran maybe half a block, and pretended to be an old lady.”

“Really,” said Cosmo.

“It’s mostly in the walk and the posture,” she said. “And it helps that a few of the street lights were out.”

“And the cops were fooled?”

“One of them asked me if I’d seen any young people running that way,” said Kathy.

Cosmo clapped his hands together with glee. “Don, you married a criminal mastermind! Never make her angry.”

Don wrapped an arm around her shoulders and flashed her a besotted look. “I don’t intend to.”

Kathy nestled into the half-embrace. “Tell me more about—was it Coyoteville? With the ventriloquist.”

“Dead Man’s Fang,” said Cosmo. “And your wish is my command, but I don’t know what else there is to say. We came, we saw, we lost our sleeping arrangements to a puppet.”

“He tucked it in that night, remember?” said Don suddenly.

“He did!” said Cosmo, delighted.

Sometimes when Don started in on the official line about how they’d studied at the conservatory and the rest of that baloney, Cosmo worried that some part of Don believed it, that it was Cosmo’s job alone to remember how long they’d traveled that strange, bumpy, often farcical road together towards some measure of success and respectability in Hollywood. But Cosmo had completely forgotten that particular detail. He had burned it from his mind.

“After he fell asleep, one of you might have moved the dummy and claimed that bed,” Kathy pointed out.

“He left it with the head turned facing us, eyes open,” said Don. “Neither of us were touching that thing.”

“So instead, Cosmo had to put up with Don all night,” said Kathy solemnly.

“So instead, I had to put up with Don all night.”

He could still recall the potent mix of resignation, terror, and guilty excitement he’d felt, huddling up on that mattress together. Their act at the time had involved being in close quarters a lot—at one point, the choreography had Cosmo leap onto Don’s back and then immediately continue playing the fiddle—so it wasn’t like touching Don was a novelty, back then. But doing it offstage, out of costume, away from any onlookers except for Esther Quill the ventriloquist dummy, it had felt like an entirely different proposition. 

Don had been a real champ about it, though. When Cosmo had started shaking with withheld hilarity that this was his life, the punchline of all punchlines and nobody to share it with, not just Don’s best friend but his literal bedwarmer, Don had clearly assumed it was a simple case of the shivers, and so he’d bundled Cosmo close, tucked Cosmo’s head under his chin, and wrapped his arms around him, muttering warm in his ear about how if Cosmo dropped dead, Don was out a dance partner “and that whole routine wouldn’t work as a solo number, it’d go over like a brick.”

“Just imagine what barnyard animal they’d have you opening for then,” Cosmo had whispered back, because Oatmeal, Nebraska had already happened to them. “A pig who juggles. A cow acrobat. A chicken magician. Just a little sleight of wing, folks, nothing up my feathers.”

And Don had laughed, and held Cosmo tighter, and the ventriloquist had shushed them, which had made them both crack up again. It had been a long night, and not one Cosmo would forget in a hurry.

“Who runs hot as a Holland furnace, let me tell you,” he added now, in case his tone had shifted a few shades too close to dreamy.

“Oh, I know,” said Kathy, smiling.

Don raised an accusing finger at him. “Well, you were shaking like a leaf! You’re lucky I was there, especially when we didn’t have so much as a sheet of our own!”

“Wait, why didn’t you have any blankets?” asked Kathy.

“The blankets,” said Don airily, “were for the puppet.”

.

And so dinner had been a joy, and after that, Don and Kathy invited him back to their room for a drink or two, because they’d had the common sense to bring alcohol, which was of course not offered by the cruise. The three of them sat on Don and Kathy’s bed (much bigger than Cosmo’s—not that he was jealous, he didn’t need the space, but the sheer expanse of mattress really did rival a small country, and Cosmo was determined not to picture in any detail how the two newlyweds might make use of that) and passed a flask around and had some more laughs and when Cosmo next got a glimpse of his watch, it was three in the morning.

“I should go,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” said Kathy. She’d shucked off her heels at some point and now her stocking feet were in Cosmo’s lap. Don sat on her other side, head on her shoulder. He’d loosened his tie early on, and his suitcoat was draped over one of the bedposts. While they were drinking, it had all felt very natural. Looking at them now, Cosmo had the sense he was intruding on something private, something intimate.

Granted, they weren’t exactly trying to kick him out, but Kathy was drunk, or tired, or else she was both drunk and tired, and it was up to Cosmo not to outstay his welcome. They had a whole two weeks together, after all, and their rooms were barely a wall apart.

“My regrets, Cinderella,” said Cosmo, “but I can feel myself turning back into a pumpkin.” 

He made as if to stand, but her feet were in the way. Very gently, he picked up her ankles, lifted them off his legs, stood, turned her like they were doing some sort of a dance move, and deposited her feet in Don’s lap instead.

“There,” he said to no one. 

A long pause followed. Don and Kathy blinked up at him. He sorely regretted moving her. It had seemed like the most elegant solution. Probably he should’ve found one that didn’t involve taking hold of her legs, skin warm through the thin layer of nylon–

Kathy’s brow furrowed. “What makes you the carriage?” she said at last.

“What?” said Cosmo, who really did need to make an exit. 

“Cinderella,” said Don, apparently reading her mind, which was swell for them.

“Better that than the mouse footman,” Cosmo told her. “Or the lizard coachman. Or the horse.” Or—who else? There were a lot of characters in Cinderella, he realized.

“There’s a prince in that story, Cosmo,” said Kathy. “A human prince.”

“Yes,” said Cosmo, patiently, “and you’re married to him, your highness,” He sketched a little bow but Don and Kathy weren’t looking at him. They were having one of those silent couple conversations, with mostly their eyes and eyebrows. A career in movies before the advent of sound had probably given Don a real advantage in that department, Cosmo thought, although Kathy seemed to be holding her own.

“It’s a made-up fairytale,” Kathy said at last. “Why, it can go any way you want it to.”

“The lady’s got a point,” said Don.

Cosmo blinked. He knew how it sounded, knew that to the untrained ear, it certainly—there were overtones, or undertones, or just plain tones that vibrated with suggestion. Cosmo had grown up in Vaudeville and now he lived in Hollywood; these things happened every now and then. These things did not happen to Cosmo. He was good for a dance or a laugh, and nine times out of ten, that was enough for him, but he wasn’t exactly fending off amorous advances—not like Don, and probably not like Kathy, either.

Also, Don liked women. Don only liked women, as far as Cosmo knew, and they had lived out of each other’s pockets for years.

The fact that a late-night ménage à trois rendezvous was increasingly the only explanation that held water in his head—it said more about Cosmo’s fragile mental state than it did about Don and Kathy’s true motives, he decided.

Don and Kathy who were still sitting on the bed, waiting for some sort of response.

“I wouldn’t, uh,” Cosmo started, and then realized with a stab of panic that for once, he didn’t have a joke in the wings, waiting to go. “I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said.

“You said earlier today you might become a pirate,” Don offered. Kathy cuddled up close against his side, watching with bright, intent eyes. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Enter pirate, stage left.”

“I said I was thinking about it,” said Cosmo, trying not to sound affected and missing by a mile. “A fella can think about all kinds of things he wouldn’t do.”

Case in point: Cosmo was not about to climb back into bed with them, no matter how cozy that bed was, no matter how warm and inviting and beautiful the two of them looked together.

His hands were starting to shake, he realized, and if Don saw that, and past experience was any judge, Cosmo might spend the night being cuddled for warmth again. What was Cosmo’s life? He didn’t go in for horoscopes, but maybe he should’ve, maybe that was the key to understanding the whole puzzle: Cosmo Brown, born under the one constellation that resembled clown shoes. He swallowed back a hysterical laugh and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Why not?” said Kathy quietly.

Because he didn’t want to ruin his oldest friendship and his most promising new one, all in a single go. Because he hated rejection, and the thought of two no’s that close together made his head spin unpleasantly. Because then there would be no more innocent touches and smiles and nightcaps in Don and Kathy’s room. 

That wasn’t what she’d asked, though. Mentally, he shook himself.

“If everyone who thought about being a pirate became one, the whole US of A would fall apart,” Cosmo informed them. “Nobody would work, or pay taxes, or go to see films. Not to mention the national parrot shortage—just try to get ahold of birdseed anymore! There’d be a run on eyepatches and tri-corner hats, and the price of a simple pirate earring would shoot through the roof, in fact—”

“It’d cost a buccaneer,” Don filled in. He sounded almost sad, which was a mystery because that bit was evergreen.

“That’s right,” said Cosmo. He rocked back onto his heels, at a loss for a moment. He’d really been counting on that joke to clear the air.

“Cosmo,” said Kathy. “Do you want to go, or do you want to want to go?”

Cosmo struggled to make sense of that. He struggled to parse it in a way that worked outside his own feverish imagination. His entire mind came up short. That was where it got you, going on the road with only an eighth grade education, he thought. His was a cautionary tale. 

Maybe ninth grade was where they taught you how not to twist a moment in your head to the point where it really did seem like maybe Cosmo could’ve kissed either of them, could’ve kissed both of them, and it would’ve been fine, or even more than fine. Maybe it was that, and Dickens, and Geography; Cosmo still could not locate Siam on a map. Or Paris. Come to think of it, ménage à trois and rendezvous were the only French he knew besides bonjour. This time, he did laugh. It was that or scream.

“I am both too drunk, and not drunk enough for this talk,” he said, turning for the door that led directly back to his room.

“If you’d rather stay—” said Don.

“Of course I’d rather stay, Don,” Cosmo snapped, sharper than he’d meant to. “But leave me enough dignity to fill half a shotglass, at least.” Don and Kathy said nothing. When he got to the door, he sighed. “Sorry, that was—I’m sorry. See you at breakfast.” “Goodnight,” said Kathy.

Alone in his room, Cosmo closed the door and ran his hands through his hair. Pirates in Cinderella, he thought. Offers to stay, with his room not 30 paces away, at three hours past midnight. Maybe it would all make sense in the morning.

[viennacherries]

QUOTH THE RAVEN - CHAPTER 1

Rolan/Tav | NSFW | 5,554 words

Summary:

'"Just... Let me look after you. Please?" He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you look back up at him. His eyes flick back and forth between both of yours, as if searching for something, and finally he sighs. "Okay."'

Read it on AO3

"Seriously, soldier, we'll be fine! You need to rest."

You pout at Karlach's continued insistence, but you can feel yourself losing the battle against her iron will. "I don't need to rest, I need to make sure you idiots don't get yourselves killed!"

She laughs at that, loud and unapologetic as she always does, "I'll try not to take that personally, shall I?"

"Well. Not you , obviously. But I don't trust the others. Astarion and Laezel are liable to start swinging at the slightest inconvenience, and Gale's good at pissing people off."

Her raucous laugh continues, "I'll keep 'em in check, soldier," she lifts her hand up to her eyebrow in mock salute, before letting it drop, "you can count on me."

You sigh. Reasonably, you know they'll manage without you, but it feels wrong letting them go without you.

Karlach, as if she can read your mind, speaks again. "Seriously, Tav. We'll be okay. And you deserve a break. It's been a rough couple of weeks."

You nod silently. She's right about that, at least.

When she doesn't say anything else, you sigh. "Fine. But please be careful?"

Karlach smiles wide, "you know me!" She claps you on the back firmly, and you're thankful that her touch is palatable now with the installation of Dammon's upgrade. You're sure the gesture would've burnt a few days ago. "I spoke to Jaheria, she's sorted a room with a bed for you. Get yourself a pint and then sleep!"

The idea of an actual bed is the final tip of the scales that seals your fate, so you nod and squeeze her arm in thanks. An actual mattress? A private room rather than a tent? You couldn't possibly turn your nose up at such a generous offering.

Karlach retreats to the gate of Last Light, where the rest of your companions are waiting for her, and they all leave together into the shadows. You let out a deep sigh, then turn and head into the inn.

The atmosphere is slightly less awful now than when you first got here. People perked up a bit when your party arrived, which you're both thankful for and absolutely terrified by.

Well. Some people perked up.

Your eyes land on the back of Rolan's head, and you feel your stomach knot. His earlier admonishments towards you are probably at least half of the reason Karlach and the others insisted on leaving you here.

You'd be lying if you said his words hadn't hurt. You never wanted to be a leader, never wanted people looking to you for guidance. You're trying your best. And you like Cal and Lia.

He doesn't care about how hard you're trying. It's a little hard to blame him, but it still hurts. You'd really hoped to be able to at least call him a friend.

There had been a moment, during the celebrations at the grove, that you wondered if you'd perhaps be able to call him more. Cal and Lia had left to get drinks, and Rolan had met your eye with a lopsided, boyish grin, and you'd been struck by how handsome he was. He'd made a joke about something and your faces had inched closer as you both laughed.

Then Cal and Lia had returned, and the moment had passed.

He won't even look at you now. As you slide up to the bar and ask Ike to pour you a drink, Rolan pointedly avoids meeting your gaze. You clear your throat in a way you hope seems casual, and from the corner of your eye you see his scowl.

"Rolan..."

"I don't want to talk to you. I've said all I need to."

You frown. "I know, but-"

He huffs, "I'm not interested in hearing your apologetic platitudes. You're hiding in here while your companions do all the work. Some leader you are."

You feel your blood pressure spike, and you turn to face him properly. He still doesn't look at you, but he squirms slightly under your attention. You can't help the bite that your words come out with.

"I never wanted to be a leader, you arsehole. I never asked for any of this. If you think you could do a better job, by all means be my fucking guest." He flinches slightly as you spit the words at him, but doesn't otherwise react, so the words keep spilling out. "And it's bold of you to accuse me of hiding, considering you've been sat here on your arse doing nothing but drink since we got here. You're more than welcome to hate me, but don't try and pretend you've somehow got the moral high-ground here."

You know the words are harsh, but you still find some satisfaction in the way his posture deflates. Knowing he might now feel a portion of the guilt he thrust onto you makes you feel a little smug. Ike places your drink on the bar, looking between the two of you nervously, and you thank him before taking your drink and leaving as quickly as you can. You don't spare Rolan a second glance as you ascend the stairs to find the bed you were promised.

The door shuts behind you and you click the lock firmly, leaning your forehead against the wood. You can feel the regret seeping in, so you down half of the pint of bitter ale and rub your temples.

He deserved that. He did.

You feel better now.

Except you know you're lying to yourself.

You don't want to shout at him. You don't want to make him feel bad. You want to give him a hug and tell him how sorry you are that he's going through this.

But you don't. Instead you finish your drink.

You keep telling yourself that he deserved it as you lay back on the mattress, holding the still-cold glass to your forehead to battle the headache you can feel brewing. You eventually fall into a fitful sleep.

~~~

It's impossible to know night from day here, but when you wake you're reasonably sure by the dryness in your throat that it's the early hours of the morning. You drag yourself out of the bed somewhat reluctantly, the thought of a crisp glass of water being all that propels you forward.

The inn is quiet at this hour. There are a few people dotted around still, talking in hushed tones and nursing drinks or reading, but for the most part it's empty.

You can't help it, your eyes dart to where Rolan was. He's not there, which makes you feel a little better. Hopefully he's in a dark corner somewhere, sleeping off the drink.

There's no one tending the bar at this hour, so you round it and pour yourself a cup of water. It's as you raise it to your lips and take a sip that you notice there's a strange looking artefact sitting on the far end of the counter. You've never seen anything like it before. It looks like it's made of brass, with elaborate arching prongs surrounding a bright blue crystal in the centre.

Fuck it, you've never been one for minding your business. Besides, if it's sat out in the open it's basically begging to be touched, isn't it? You cast a sidelong glance around the tavern to check no one is looking and then sidestep towards it. As soon as you press your fingers to the cold metal, the gem begins to shine, and a projection is brought forth.

"Lia, Cal - if you see this, stay put."

Rolan looks almost regal in the projection, a picture of strength and arrogance. His tone is commanding, firm and assured, and you wonder how he feels justified in that when-

Your words from earlier flood back to you without warning.

"It's bold of you to accuse me of hiding, considering you've been sat here on your arse doing nothing but drink since we got here."

Your heart drops. Oh.

The glass of water makes a loud clinking noise as you slam it onto the bar. The sound still rings through the air as you grab a sword leaning against the doorway and sprint out into the shadows.

~~~

In hindsight, you probably should've waited for your party to return. But how could you? You have no idea how long ago Rolan left that message. He could already be in trouble.

The shadows feel colder without the company of your companions, and you're immensely grateful for the pixie's blessing. The darkness grasps at your ankles, nipping like a dog at your heel, and the cursed foliage around you seems to be watching your every step. This place is awful and dangerous enough when you're travelling with your friends, never mind completely alone.

That line of thinking just brings you back to Rolan, though. Alone somewhere in the shadows, with no real combat experience and no pixie's blessing. He's likely got a torch or a dancing lights cantrip, but those don't fend off the curse nearly as well. The realisation makes the air feel even colder.

It's dark tonight. Darker than usual, that is. There's a dense fog across the land that makes it hard to keep track of where you came from. Rolan could be anywhere, and you can barely see 10 feet in front of you. Gods, you should've waited for the others.

And then you hear it. The unmistakable sound of Rolan's voice shouting an incantation, and the withering scream of a shadow creature falling. Wherever he is he's out of your eye-line, so you sprint towards the noise blindly.

For a man with little practice in a fight, Rolan is holding his own. He stands tall and confident in the face of the several creatures surrounding him, and you can see he's felled at least two of them already. But you can also see the hidden signs of his exhaustion. Some of his spells sputter as they take shape, and the dancing lights above his head flicker every time he casts. His arms - stretched out in front of him - shake with effort, and his usually perfectly pinned hair has fallen in places. Distantly, in the background of your mind, you let yourself admire him.

The loosing of his next spell, a magic missile that cuts through the chest of the creature closest to him, pulls you from your reverie, and you jump into the fray without thought. The shadow creatures screech and howl at the sting of your blade as they disintegrate around it, and just as one grabs at your arm you feel it's grip loosen as Rolan incinerates it, the heat beating against you.

When the creatures are dispensed and you're surrounded by nothing but their vestiges, you turn back to look at Rolan. He's already looking at you.

There's a long, charged moment where you both stand there staring at each other, panting to regain your breath, and once again you're struck by his beauty. He's shrouded in the cursed gloom, but his bright yellow eyes cut through the twilight. His hair is dishevelled around him, and the loose strands fly around him in the cold breeze. The cantrip above him illuminates him from overhead and casts an intense shadow on all of his features, and it makes his jawline look even sharper.

You take a step towards him, and whatever spell that surrounds the both of you shatters. His face furrows into a scowl.

"Gods damn it all! I can do nothing right - not a damn thing!"

He's shaking, possibly with rage, possibly adrenaline. Possibly with the knowledge that he very nearly met his end.

"Rolan, what are you doing out here?"

You know the answer already, you're not sure why you ask. He answers regardless.

"I was looking for Cal and Lia! What else? Instead I found myself cornered by shadow-fiends and in need of rescue. By you of all bloody people!"

You ignore his remark, "you were trying to help your family, Rolan. You're being too hard on yourself."

His response is muttered under his breath. "Or not hard enough."

You frown, but before you can argue he speaks again. He won't look you in the eyes, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Just... be on your way. I'll return to Last Light. I know when I'm outmatched."

He turns to leave and you reach out without thinking, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back. He looks at you in shock.

"Are you stupid? I'm not letting you go off on your own again. We're going back together."

His responding scoff sounds insulted, "brilliant, so you don't even trust me to walk on my own anymore?"

"That has nothing to do with it." You pause for a moment, hesitating over your words. "I was worried about you, Rolan. I didn't know if I'd be able to find you and-"

"Oh, so you didn't trust me to begin with! How reassuring!"

"Shut up !" His face falls at your outburst, but he doesn't say anything else. "I didn't know if I was going to be able to find you, and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if the last thing I said to you was something horrible. Something I didn't even mean. So, for all the Gods' sake, don't wander off on your own again. Just..." You can feel a blush rising on your face, and you pray he can't see it in the low light of the evening. You drop your eyes to the ground. "Just... Let me look after you. Please?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you look back up at him. His eyes flick back and forth between both of yours, as if searching for something, and finally he sighs.

"Okay."

You let out a breath. "Okay."

He snorts. "Okay."

You can't help snorting back, and shake your head at him in disbelief.

The both of you stand there for another moment, and you suddenly realise that you're still holding onto his wrist. You clear your throat and drop it, nodding decisively.

"Okay." He snorts at you again, but you ignore it. "I'm pretty sure the inn is that way."

He quirks an eyebrow, "pretty sure?"

You respond with an affirming noise and he snorts once more, "well, that's reassuring."

You glare at him. "Well, I'm incredibly sorry." You begin walking and he follows. "I wasn't paying too much attention when I legged it towards the sound of you getting your ass kicked."

He lets out a real laugh at that, which is both surprising and delightful. You can't remember if you've ever heard him actually laugh. It's bright and clear and somewhat musical, and the smile he wears with it suits him much more than his usual scowl.

"Is that what it sounded like? I rather hoped it was more like a remarkable wizard teaching some abominations their place."

It's your turn to snort at him now, "if that makes you feel better."

He chuckles, and you slip into silence as you fall into step beside each other. It's silent for a long while before you speak again.

"I wanted to-"

"I should really-"

You both stop, turning to look at each other,  and he laughs.

"Sorry, sorry. Ladies first."

"I wanted to apologise. For the way I spoke to you earlier. That wasn't fair."

He shakes his head, burying his hands in his pockets as he continues walking with you. "Not at all. I was rude to you first, I should be the one apologising."

" Ah , so you admit I was rude?"

He laughs, "well, calling me a useless drunk isn't the nicest thing I've ever heard you say, but I suppose it wasn't entirely undeserved."

You frown, "I'm pretty sure I didn't-"

"Not quite in those words, no, but I rather think that was the gist. Regardless, there's no apology necessary. I've been incredibly unfair to you."

You shrug, and your steps echo in the silence. "Not really."

You can hear the frown in his voice, "Tav, I mean it I-"

He cuts himself off as you come to an abrupt stop.

"Tav?"

You look around and sigh. "Rolan. We've gone in a circle."

"We have?"

"We have."

You can see his confusion, "how can that be possible?"

You sigh deeply. "I don't know. This place is weird, and the fog is too dense. I have no idea where we're going. All I know is that we walked past that tree stump earlier."

There's a long pause before he speaks again.

"So... What now?"

"Honestly?" You sigh again as you look off into the distance, seeing nothing but dense mist. "We can either keep going and hope we find the inn, or we can camp out here until the fog lifts a bit."

He looks scandalised, "camp? Out here ?"

"Well. It wouldn't really be camping. We don't have any supplies. Or a bedroll. Or a tent. It's more like... Sitting down and waiting."

He grimaces. "Sounds delightful."

You shrug, "it's up to you."

When you look at him again, he looks conflicted, but eventually he nods. "Very well, I suppose staying here is better than getting ourselves more lost."

You nod in agreement. "Wise choice."

~~~

It's not like you didn't already know this, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that Rolan is not a patient person.

You managed to find a spot with a rock outcropping that made a good enough shelter. The problem is, for both of you to fit under it, it's a little cramped. But you didn't want either of you sat out in the open where anything could spot you, so you'd reluctantly backed up to the wall and against Rolan's side.

It's a bit maddening, being this close to him. His scent fills your nostrils (he smells like the weave and something musky, like sandalwood), which is incredibly distracting, and up close you notice he's covered in freckles. They cover his cheeks and forehead and climb their way up to his ears. He's also taken his hair down, which is frankly rather rude of him. It looks soft.

What's ruder is the fact that he literally cannot sit still. His legs bounce where they're stretched out in front of him, and every few minutes he adjusts his posture with a loud groan.

When his leg starts bouncing again for the umpteenth time, your hand shoots out and grabs his knee on its own accord to hold it down. He jumps at the contact and whips his head towards you, and the look of alarm he's wearing would be funny if he wasn't driving you insane.

"Rolan. If you don't stop fidgeting, I'll stop you myself."

He frowns. "I can't help it."

You arch an eyebrow, "right, so you want me to hold you down for the rest of the evening? Because I will."

His face flushes and he shakes his head no, so you withdraw your hand. You feel his body relax next to you.

"You may as well try and get some sleep. I can keep watch and wake you up when it's safe to move."

He clears his throat, "that won't be necessary. I'm fine."

You scoff. He's definitely not fine, he's been wiggling around since you both sat down. You tell him as such and the blush rises back to his cheeks.

"I'm not- That's not why I'm-" He sighs "I'm fine ."

"Ah, yes. People who are fine usually writhe around like worms."

He scowls at you, but doesn't say anything. At that moment you feel a shiver rip through you, and his face softens with concern.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself, "I'm fine."

He pulls a face at you and crosses his arms. "Ah, yes. People who are fine usually shake like leaves."

Okay, in fairness, you walked right into that one.

"I'm okay, honestly. I'm just a bit cold."

You hadn't really thought about it when you left the inn, hopped up on adrenaline, but now you're sat here you've begun to realise you're not dressed for the chill. You're wearing a pair of light trousers and an old sweater with holes in the sleeves; the clothes you sleep in. It was fine when you were racing around looking for Rolan and fighting shadow creatures, but now that you're sat still with your back up against rock the cold is seeping into your body.

Rolan looks you up and down a few times, then makes a noise of frustration. "Gods, I'm sorry. I should've thought to- I haven't got enough magic left to cast anything to keep you warm."

"It's fine, I'll manage. Besides, you're like a furnace."

It's true, you can feel the warmth from his body where his arm is pressed up against yours. You've been trying not to think about it, but it's getting harder to focus on anything else.

There's a moment of silence, and a look of hesitation in Rolan's eye, before he lifts the arm that's against you and instead wraps it around your shoulder. You flinch.

"What are you doing?"

He's blushed again. "Well. We- tieflings, that is- we naturally run hotter. And I got you into this predicament, so the least I can do is stop you from catching pneumonia."

You try desperately to think of an argument that stops him pulling you closer, but you come up empty. You're cold and he's warm, and he smells nice and his hair looks soft, and you are a weak, weak woman.

When you don't say anything else, he tentatively stretches his arm back around your shoulder, and places his hand there awkwardly. You pull a face at him.

"That can't be comfortable, your wrist is at an angle."

He shrugs, which makes you sigh. You grab his hand where it rests on your shoulder blade and manoeuvre yourself so that you're resting your head against his chest. You wrap his arm around you and push yourself against him. He freezes.

There's a long moment where you wonder if you've overstepped a boundary, but then he's sinking himself down against the rock so you can better lean on his chest, and pulling you tight against the side of his body. There's a moment of hesitation before you feel him rest his chin on the top of your head.

His scent and warmth wraps around you and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. His chin on the top of your head is a comforting weight, and being surrounded by him like this feels... intimate. You like it.

"I'm sorry, Tav."

You frown, but don't move. "For what?"

He swallows heavily. "I really was unfair to you. It's not your fault Cal and Lia were taken. You're the only reason any of us made it this far in the first place. I lashed out at you."

You give a small shrug, as much as you can without shaking his arms from around you. There's a moment, and then he's moving anyway, turning to face you and holding both of your shoulders.

"Tav, I mean it. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry."

His eyes are piercing and you struggle to look away despite how intense his gaze is. You shrug again, hoping you don't betray how much his attention affects you. "You were right. I'm not a leader. I just wanted to do what felt right, but I've put people in danger in the process."

He shakes his head, "I wasn't right. The best leaders are the ones who didn't choose it. They're the people everyone follows because they believe in them." One of his hands comes down and grasps yours, and you feel your breath hitch. "People believe in you, Tav. I... I believe in you."

You don't know how to reply to that, so you don't. Another shiver rips its way through your body, and Rolan wraps both of his arms around you and brings your head back to his chest.

"For warmth, of course." He says it softly.

You nod. "Of course." Your voice comes out quiet and breathless, and you feel Rolan shudder minutely.

A voice in the back of your head tells you that you're walking a fragile line, that you're slowly inching your way over it. That once you cross it there's no going back. The warmth of his embrace must be clouding your judgement, though, because you find you don't care.

Rolan's twists his head slightly, and instead of his chin resting in your hair it's his cheek. You feel him rub his face softly into your tresses and it's such an intimate gesture that you feel your heart start beating in your throat. You press your skull up against him tentatively and you hear his breath catch in his chest against your ear.

You adjust your position so that his cheek is pressed against your temple instead. You can feel his breath grazing the tip of your ear, can hear the moment the pace of it staccatos.

It's like a slow dance, the way you both slowly inch towards each other. Your cheek is pressed against his now, and you tilt your head slightly to the side and glance your lips along his cheekbone. You feel his eyes flutter shut as his eyelashes brush against your temple, and you hear his slow exhale.

He turns his head, and you're both face to face. There are only centimetres between you, and his breath passes across your lips.

When he closes the final distance, pressing his lips against yours in nervous, chaste kiss, it feels like the inevitable conclusion that you've been dancing around since you met him. You feel yourself trip and fall over that proverbial line, and as you land squarely on the other side a wall comes up behind you in your mind's eye, preventing you from ever returning to where you were before.

It's only several seconds, but it feels far longer before he pulls away.

He's far enough from you that he can look at you properly, and his eyes scan your face wildly. He's shaking slightly, as if he's terrified of your reaction; as if he hasn't faced cultists and shadow-creatures and come away unscathed.

As you stare at each other, you consider the consequences and implications of this. The complicated predicament you'll be putting yourself in if you entangle your life with his in this way, the unknown and the uncertainties of your life, of your future and potential lack-there-of. You think about his apprenticeship, and the diverging paths you're undoubtedly destined to take. It would almost certainly be a mistake to let yourself slip into whatever this is becoming.

You kiss him anyway.

You feel all of the tension leave his body. He makes a small noise of contentment and you use the slight part of his lips to part your own and deepen the kiss. He makes a very different kind of noise at that, and it runs through your whole body.

You can't resist sliding your tongue into his mouth, and he makes another noise that has your gut wrenching as his arms tighten around you. It turns heated and frantic as you breathe into each other, and when you trail a hand over his cheek and down his neck he shudders and moans.

When you eventually have to pull away for air he chases you, and you can't help but chuckle at him. You see the flush spread over his cheeks and he opens his eyes, clearly embarrassed, but too far gone to say anything about it. His lips are shiny from your spit and his eyes are hooded, and you can't help but lean back in to taste him again. It earns you another low moan from the back of his throat.

He raises a hand to curl into your hair, grabs a handful as he threads his fingers through it, and the noise you make is frankly embarrassing, but it only serves to encourage him. In the next moment, he's dragging you into his lap with your legs straddling his hips, and positioned like this you can kiss him deeper. His other hand grips your hip firmly and you mewl into his mouth, and in response he moans and grinds you down into his clothed length. You run your hands up and down his chest, and one hand wraps around the back of his neck to hold him to you. He keens at the touch.

A loud cracking sound splits through the air.

You both jump away from each other, eyes frantically searching the other to see who hurt what, only to realise the noise is coming from somewhere nearby. Breaking branches. Footsteps.

You leap out of Rolan's lap and crouch next to him, peeking round the edge of the rock wall. You can't see anything, but the noise is getting closer. When you turn to Rolan, his features are hard, and he nods at you decisively as he moves to crouch with you. He comes up beside you, glances out in the direction with the noise. He brings a hand up to clutch your chin, directs it slightly more to the right, and points between a set of trees in the distance.

Whatever he sees, you can't. It's far too dark, and the fog is still a little too thick for you to see through. When you shoot him a confused look, he mouths to you in response.

"Harper."

You frown at that, and quirk an eyebrow questioningly, hoping he can deduce your question: 'Shadow-curse victim?"

He seems to catch your meaning, and he turns back to the tree line, squinting and leaning forward slightly. The movement results in him baring the column of his neck to you, and despite the fact you try, you fail spectacularly at wrenching your eyes away. His skin is smooth and unblemished, in contrast to your own body which you know is covered in a variety of scars and marks. You're overwhelmed by the urge to lean forward and suck a bruise onto his pulse point, which you just barely manage to resist. Not the time .

He turns back to look at you and you flick your eyes up to his in what is unfortunately a very conspicuous manoeuvre. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he juts his chin towards the harper in the treeline and whispers; "I think they're friendly."

You nod at that, turning away to look in the direction of the harper, who you still can't see. You can feel Rolan's eyes on you, and with a bolt of arousal shooting through your body you wonder if he's looking at you the way you looked at him moments ago.

You clear your throat. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Rolan leans in and whispers into your ear, and you feel goosebumps raise over your skin. "They've turned this way, they're making their way over."

"Tav?" The mystery voice calls out from the shadows. "Is that you? Karlach sent me."

You breathe a sigh of relief at the confirmation of the stranger's allegiance, and with a pat on Rolan's shoulder you stand and begin walking to the voice. You try to ignore the fact that Rolan practically clings to your side, and the small blossom of hope that brews in your chest.

"That's me." You can see the harper now, a light skinned dwarf with slicked back brown-auburn hair who you recognise as one of the men that guards the gate of the inn. "She'll have sent you out on a rescue mission, then."

He laughs. "She did indeed. Said the fact the both of you-" he nods towards Rolan "-were gone wasn't a coincidence. Her words were something to the effect of 'if that smarmy idiot has gone off to get himself killed, she's probably followed him.'"

You flush, but don't say anything. There's no real defence you can muster, considering the fact she's pretty much spot on.

Rolan jumps in for you. "Well, I'm thankful for the intervention. I owe Tav my life. We were waiting out the fog, I don't suppose you can guide us back to the inn?"

The harper nods, "certainly can. It's not all that far, but keep your wits about you. The critters out here are feral."

~~~

The first thing Karlach does when the pair of you find her at Last Light is flick you between the eyes.

"You bloody moron! How did I know you'd be off canoodling with this prick, hm?"

You can feel yourself going red, but you puff your chest out defiantly anyway, "I went to help him!"

The gleam in her eyes and smirk on her lips tells you she's been spending far too much time with Astarion, "I'm sure you did! Bet he was real grateful for your 'help', weren't you wizard?"

Rolan scowls, but his cheeks look darker than usual. Instead of saying anything, he storms off.

Karlach laughs, but you feel your stomach sink. He doesn't even look backwards at you. Clearly he's come to his senses, now that he's out of mortal danger, and remembered that he hates your guts.

You sigh, and shake all thoughts of Rolan from your mind. "Go on then, K, tell me what you found."

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Making Things Public~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(D: You get into a fight with Stu about making your relationship public. )

Sneaking around with Stu used to be fun. You used to revel in the secrecy: the fact that no one knew about the two of you aside from yourselves— like a secret hidden in plain sight. But as things started to get more serious, you couldn't help but want to be "claimed": to have people know that the two of you were a thing and that you were no longer interested in seeing other people; that you both were officially off limits. It was only natural for you to make things public, right?

You weren't asking him to declare his love for you in front of the whole town, to yell it from every roof top, and makeout with you in front of all of your peers. You just wanted the security of people knowing that the two of you were together. And if he loved you as much as he always claimed that he did, what would be the issue?

"Yeah, imagine that one." He smirks at you, rolling his eyes lightheartedly when you finally bring up the subject. You hadn't said it out of nowhere. In fact, you'd thought long and hard about the perfect opportunity—agonizing over something that should have been so easy.

It'd been prompted by his own comment: something about both of you having to leave his house by a certain time so that he doesn't miss some party, a party that all of his friends are going to be at. He doesn't want them to get suspicious, he'd joked, and you'd figured that it was the perfect segue for the conversation you'd been wanting to have with him.

"Why not?" You say, trying your best to seem nonchalant, even as your stomach drops at the speedy way he dismisses the idea: as though he doesn't even want to give it a single thought.

"What? You're serious?" He asks— as though he's surprised. The joking tone he'd held before starting to fade as he continues to speak.

"Why not?" You repeat, your tone a little different from before, bristling at his words as you keep your eyes trained on the television in front of you.

"It just wouldn't make sense," He starts, laughing almost incredulously: as though you're the one being silly for even bringing it up, as though the idea is so preposterous that you should "know better" than to say it out loud. "I mean, you're not exactly the type of girl I usually go for. Do you know the sort of shit people would say?"

"And what would they say Stu?"

"What is this," He asks instead of answering, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "I thought you were okay with the whole sneaking around thing? I mean you told me you were before, so where's all this coming from?"

"I was. I was okay with it when we were just messing around. But I think things have changed a little bit, don't you?" You ask, turning to glance at him.

"I mean sure, yeah, I guess things have gotten a little more serious." He agrees almost tentatively.

"A little?" You probe.

"It's just ...I don't see the point in letting everyone know about us. Nothing will change between us." He insists and it's mildly infuriating to hear.

"If nothing will change then why not tell them?" You ask, confused by his apprehension.

"Because they'll be all weird about it." He answers, which only manages to confuse you further.

"About what?" You question, your face twisting up in perplexity. Stu's never been the sharpest tool in the shed but this conversation is leading into new levels of bewildering denseness.

"About you." His beating around the bush is starting to annoy you. I mean, really annoy you. Probably because you're starting to think you understand what he's getting at, and if your suspicions are correct, you think you'll actually lose it.

"And why would that be?" You reply guardedly.

"I mean, going from Tatum to you, that's a big difference." He tries to laugh it off but it strikes a cord with you, makes you stiffen, your blood beginning to boil.

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"I just mean that she's the type of girl I usually go for. The type of girl people expect me to be with." He's none the wiser to the way you've begun to burn on the inside. Insecurity, and jealousy, and annoyance all rearing their ugly little heads while you listen to him speak.

"And what type of girl is she?" A part of you wants to see how deep of a hole he'll dig himself into—an angry, ugly, resentful little part of you that's feeling particularly slighted by his words.

"You know." It seems he's just now beginning to catch onto your anger. He seems cautious, like he doesn't want to get further into it: like a guilty child who doesn't want to admit how badly they've messed up, or like a person trying to spare another persons feelings.

"Enlighten me." You insist coldly.

"Are you mad? Why do you seem mad right now?" You'd normally find the whiny way he's speaking cute, but today, it only manages to make you more annoyed.

"I don't know Stu, why would I be mad right now?" You answer sarcastically.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you're not the type of girl that people expect me to be with. I just think they're gonna be weird about it." He reiterates, the same vague assumptions that he's already said before. He's talking in circles, not man enough to admit the real reason he doesn't want people to know about the two of you.

"Why would they be weird about it? What kind of girl am I that you have to be ashamed to be seen with me?" You push.

"I did not say that." He insists, pointing a finger at you as though you're accusing him of something wildly out of the question.

"Well you're saying a lot of shit that sounds like it!" You finally raise your voice.

"There's no need to get hostile." He raises his hands, as if you're acting out of line.

"Let me guess: Tatum was never hostile." You mock.

"As a matter of fact, she wasn't. She was really chill actually: she didn't care about what everyone else thought." He responds pointedly.

"Well, maybe it's because you didn't hide her around Stu."

"She wouldn't have cared either way." He insists, defending the girl as if that's the hill he should die on.

"That is such bullshit." You hiss.

"No, it's not bullshit. She wasn't insecure like you are." He accuses matter-of-factly.

"Insecure?!" You screech incredulously, just nearly laughing in disbelief.

"Yeah! Insecure," He doubles down. "Casey wasn't like that either. They didn't care about anyone else-"

"Yeah, least of all you Stu. That's why they dumped your ass to the wayside and fucked a bunch of footballers instead." You interrupt.

"Oh, oh real nice. Well at least I wouldn't be embarrassed by them dumping me. No one blames me for wanting to be their boyfriend. Imagine me going public with you. Yeah, right. Stu macher with Y/n Y/L/N. I wouldn't hear the end of it. I might as well say goodbye to my reputation right now!" He sneered sarcastically.

"You know, that's all I needed to hear." You laugh bitterly, the smile on your lips resembling more of a snarl than anything else. He pauses at your response, chest heaving angrily while trying to process what you're saying. "Thank you for finally letting me know exactly what your issue is, Stu. No. No. I really appreciate the transparency."

"You know, Stu ...this is what I am. I've always been like this. I haven't changed since the day you met me. I was nothing like your ex's then, and I'm nothing like them now. I'll never be. So let me do you a favor and do the one thing that you weren't man enough to do this entire time and cut things off. I deserve to be with someone who isn't ashamed of what I am. Someone who actually gives a fuck about me. I can assure you that I'm not as hard up for choices as you seem to think that I am." You vent, starting to gather your things as he sits there and stares at you.

"Wait, wait a minute-" He starts.

"No." You refuse, not even looking at him as you continue to grab all of your belongings from around the room.

"I didn't. I don't," He stumbles over his words, scooting to the edge of his seat as he watches you nervously: face untwisting from it's previous anger and beginning to morph into an expression of confusion and anxiety, a hint of worry coming in at the corners. "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean that."

You don't answer and he hesitantly stands up, making his way over to you as you angrily shove all of your things into one singular pile. "Let's just talk, okay?"

"We've talked enough. I'm done talking." You grit. Everything you do seems to slow you down, your hands moving in a frustratingly clumsy fashion, your anger mounting as things continue to go wrong. You're sure he can feel the heat radiating off of your body: the seriousness of the situation finally dawning on him.

"No, no, just wait a minute, alright? C'mon," He whines, moving to grab some of your things away from you: trying to stop your hands from their hurried and blunt movements. You pull away as though his touch burns you, brushing your hair from your face in an attempt to collect yourself before going to grab your things again. "Stop, stop. Please, let's just talk."

"I told you-" You start with exasperation.

"Then lets not talk. We don't have to talk, just don't leave. I'm sorry, alright? That was stupid. I didn't mean that. I'm stupid, I'm a stupid guy. You know that." He begs.

"You are stupid. You are so goddamn stupid, you have no idea," You rant, whirling to look at him. You take in his puppy dog eyes and the way that he nods along with you, trying to prove just how much he's listening and just how much he agrees with you. You do your best to calm yourself. You don't want to insult him. Not really. "You have no idea what you do to people. I really hope you are stupid, Stu. Because if you aren't, then that would mean that you know exactly what you're doing and how it makes me feel—and that would be so much worse. I'd love to think that you're stupid. It's easier to think that you are instead of thinking that you're completely using me, and that I'm just letting you. Letting you get away with making a fool out of me."

"You're not a fool." He insists.

"No, I'm not. Which makes it even sadder."

"What's sad?" He whimpers.

"That I've sat here and let you use me like some toy." You tell him.

"I don't-I wasn't trying to use you. You're not a toy. I don't think you're a toy." He struggles to respond.

"Then what am I Stu? I'm not your girlfriend," You reply matter-of-factly, and his brows screw up like the comment truly pains him: like it hurts him to hear it as much as it pains you to say it; the knives in your heart twisting deeper and deeper.

"You are. You are my girlfriend. I thought that we...I told you I loved you. You know I love you." He insists pitifully.

"This isn't love, and I'm not gonna pretend that it is anymore. If you loved me, you wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with me. You wouldn't care about your friends or the rest of school. And you wouldn't care about your ex's—you wouldn't be comparing me to them. Hell, how could I ever think that you liked me for anything more than sex when that's your type." You laugh bitterly, the realization coming to you as you shake your head in disbelief.

"They're not my type, they just, I just dated them. Like I dated you. I liked you. I still like you. I love you. This wasn't just about sex, it's just-" He sighs, like he's preparing himself for what he's about to say. He looks down at the floor as if he's a embarrassed, as if he's ashamed.

"I looked like an idiot when Casey broke up with me. The entire school knew about it within a week, and I went from me to the loser she left behind. Everyone was looking at me, everyone was laughing at me. And you, you're great, you know? You could date a footballer if you wanted to. And I guess I thought that if I didn't show you around to everyone, if I didn't make things public, then I wouldn't have to go through all that again. I wouldn't have to talk about it, or think about it, or be all embarrassed by it."

"But, but if you're just gonna dump me anyway then I want to go public. I want everyone to know that we're together because this—I don't want this. I thought that us being a secret would make things easier, but this isn't easy at all. And I think I'll do just about anything if it means that you're not going to break up with me." You stay silent, unsure of what to say or how to handle all of what he's just poured onto you.

"So you name it. I'll call all my friends right now and tell them all 'hey, I'm with y/n y/l/n and I love her', and we'll stay in for the rest of the night. Or I'll take you with me to the party tonight and I'll tell everyone there that you're mine and that you're great. You want me to get a tattoo of your name? Your face? I'll get it tonight. Whatever you want: whatever will convince you that I meant it when I said I love you."

"I don't-" You laugh a bit, amusement creeping out of you as much as you don't want it to. You sigh and open your mouth to start again, a bit more serious this time.

"Please don't go," He stops you. "Please."

"I'm not going." You assure him quietly.

"Are you still breaking up with me?" He asks, tears still misting his eyes, even as the relief of you not trying to leave becomes evident in his features.

"Would it even count as breaking up? We really weren't-"

"Yes we were. ...We were to me." He interrupts quickly, and you can feel yourself softening by the minute.

"Then no, I'm not breaking up with you." He starts to smile, and it's like the calm after a storm: not everything is fixed but it's healing. You can't help but smile too, at least just a little.

"Do you want me to bring you to the party, because if you want me too, I will. But I kind of really don't want to go anymore." He says to you. It's the joke that finally earns him a laugh, a giggle seeping out of you as his shoulders sag in relief.

"No, I don't want to go. And you don't have to tell the entire school about us either. Just, maybe you can let your friends know that we've been spending some time together. And then maybe I can tell my friends that 'blonde boy' is actually Stu Macher and not just some guy that I've been lying about all this time." You explain.

"You've told your friends about me?" He grins, suddenly so very pleased and eager to hear more. "When did you tell them about me? What did you tell them about me? Do they like me?"

"They don't know its you!" You laugh.

"Well yeah, yeah but like ~my vibes~" You roll your eyes as you sit back down on his couch, fighting back your smile as he immediately follows and scoots right up next to you, expression urging you to tell him more. You have the sudden feeling that you're gonna be in for it with him: that things might only get "worse" with him as your actual boyfriend and not just some guy you hang out with.

"You know, I think I'm starting to regret wanting you to be my real life boyfriend. You're already such a handful." You tease as he starts nudging you to try and get you to answer his questions.

"No take backs." He insists quickly, grinning at you.

"I'll hold you to that." You reply, smiling.

[bl00dst41ned]

Hiii. Can you please write angst where Jobe and the reader have a really bad argument so they stop talking to each other for like a week. And they’re both nervous that the other is going to break up with them? Can it end in fluff like where they make up? Thank you.

*.·:·.✦ never ending ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jobe bellingham x female reader

summary: in which a bad argument torments two young love birds

author's note: requested by anon. was way longer than i thought. might get back to posting randomly don’t know yet but I got ideas

word count: 1228

“If you actually cared about me, you would understand how I feel” You spat at Jobe’s face as he rolled his eyes at your words.

“But I can’t control what somebody is about to say before he says it”

You two had been arguing for the last fifteen minutes for what seems to be a stupid reason. For all you remembered, it started with a phone nowhere to be found. Then, somehow you were angry about how he handles his friends.

“He bluntly disrespected me and you just sat there not saying nothing”

“What did you want me to do” He snapped, raising his voice. He never raised his voice, let alone at you.

“Tell him that he was wrong”

“Maybe he wasn’t”

Your mouth slightly open, as his sentence left you speechless. His friend Tony had called you a bitch and there Jobe was, your boyfriend, agreeing with him. This could not be real. It felt like some type of game. Like he had sent her the ultimate punch, knocking her out completely.

You didn’t pronounce a word and just left the house. Luckily, nobody was here to hear you argue and ask any questions. You just grabbed your phone and coat going back to yours.

Your heart tightened with each sobs, your chest aching. It was not the first argument but this one tore your heart apart.

…………..

You checked your phone for the millionth time in an hour. It had been a week since that argument. A week since you have seen Jobe or talked to him. Not a message, not a call, no nothing. There were times when you wanted to. But you were always reminded that you didn’t do anything wrong.

“If you don’t put that phone down” Your best friend snatched it out of your phone putting it on the table, faced down. “I told you already about that”

“But I miss him”

“But he needs to understand” She said with a ‘duh’ face, as you looked away not wanting to face her and the truth. “If you let this one slide, he won’t see the issue”

You could feel your eyes water at the thought of him. Your mind roamed all day wondering how he felt. Your relationship was on a dark path, eating you alive. Eventually, the tears that threatened to fall, ran down your cheeks.

“I just want to speak to him, know how he feels” Each word brought more tears to your eyes. “Maybe he doesn’t even feel anything.”

“Give yourselves time away, you’ll be alright”

“But what if we don’t. Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe we’ve come to the end of us-”

“Don’t. Even. Dare. Saying that.” Your best friend cut you off “That little argument will not break your relationship. Not on my watch”

“Now wipe your tears and let’s get back to this homework, okay?”

You nodded your head, doing as told, taking a deep breath before going back to your work. Your best friend grabbed her phone, tapping her keyboard quickly before concentrating.

Jobe

apologize to my best friend or 

you’ll pay for each tear on her face

On the other hand…

Jobe sat in his friend’s room sitting on the bed.

“JOBE!” The loud voice of his friend made him jump, exiting out of his thoughts. “Are you playing with us?”

He decided to spend the day with some friends, playing video games and getting his mind off. But the message he just received from your best friend had brought him back to your argument. Jobe regretted everything he had said to you. The image of your glossy eyes staring at him after his harsh words had been glued in his mind for the entire week.

“Stop thinking about (Y/N) for once, please,”Tony sighed loudly, his annoyance clearly audible.

A silence followed as they all looked at each other awkwardly.

“Tony, leave him alone for once” Another friend stepped in, trying to change the subject. “He’s not in the mood”

“But he just ruins the vibe every time, looking all depressed”

“Well, sorry I’m scared (Y/N) might break up with me”

Tony rolled his eyes at the mention of your name.

“Bro, what’s your problem with my girl?”

Jobe had grown tired of the slight shades Tony would throw around about you. He did not see the real problem but the time he was apart from you, he spent it with his group, noticing Tony’s behaviour every time you were mentioned.

“Stop acting like she’s not the problem”

“But she’s not” 

“Anyway, just play the game” Tony tried to give him the controller before letting go, realizing he would not take it.

“No, bro, let’s settle the issue now. What has she done to you? Cause if we are in this situation it’s mostly your fault”

“What is she crying about now?”

“You hate her for no reason and disrespect her in front of her face and think she’ll be alright”

“Nah, bro, she’s getting in your head too much” Tony shook his head looking away. “This bitch-”

Tony didn’t even have time to finish his sentence that Jobe had got up, aggressively heading to Tony. With all he had said about you, he was definitely not his friend anymore.

Their friends instantly got up to keep them away from one another. Tony, outraged by Jobe’s behaviour which he found over the top, decided to leave them, insulting Jobe on his way out.

“I should go too”

“You sure ?”

“Yeah, I’ll just go home”

He grabbed his phone and got out of the house, heading to your house.

(Y/N) 🤍

I’m coming in thirty mins

seen

……………

Jobe knocked on your room door, entering once you allowed it.  He smiled at your sight with his hoodie on you, enveloping your body. He assumed you wouldn’t want him to touch you so he went to sit on your bed. You couldn’t wait any longer and just went to get into his arms.

“I missed you”

“I missed you too, I’m sorry for what I’ve said to you” He spoke while giving you multiple forehead kisses.

“It’s oka- no it’s not” He cut you off as you tried to brush it off as if it did not matter. But he could not let what he had done just be forgotten.

“I disrespected you for no reason and dismissed your feelings. I didn’t try to actually see the situation from your point of vi- matter of fact it was just overly wrong and anybody could say it. For some reason, I approached the situation very dumbly and not as your boyfriend should. I’m deeply sorry, babe”

You could only listen, still glued to his body. He had realised that he was wrong

“I’m sorry too for screaming at you”

“Jobe” You spoke lowly while you let him go“Let’s not let that happen again. I don’t want to feel like we’re on the verge of breaking up after every argument"

“I know, I’ll be better, I promise”

“It’s not real until we lock pinkies” You held your pinky up to him.

He smiled at you, locking his pinky with yours before kissing them so you knew it was genuine.

“This does not change how I feel for you” You reassured, already knowing it had been on his mind. “Remember that”

like and repost for support (hope you enjoyed it)

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[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 16: Yes, no, maybe

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Yes, no, maybe. I don't know. Can you repeat the question?

Spencer had gotten used to hearing that song as the opening theme every Friday, from your TV. One day at work, you referred to one of your favorite sitcoms, and you were quite surprised that the young man didn’t understand what you were talking about.

It turned out that the doctor had extensive knowledge in practically all areas, but entertainment was his weak point. So when you found out he had never seen Malcolm in the Middle, you basically forced him into having weekly meetings at your house to watch all the seasons.

At first, Spencer wasn’t too thrilled, as that genre of television wasn’t his favorite, but after the first season, it turned out that he was quite enjoying the show. The sharp humor, the cleverly written plots, the chaotic and dysfunctional family... all the elements seemed to have captivated his attention.

Many times, for both health and economic reasons, you prepared food at home for dinner. But that day, you decided to treat yourselves and ordered a large pizza with a six-pack of beer for you and lemonade for your friend.

You were both comfortably settled on your couch, ready to start the next episode, when you heard Spencer speak.

“I have a theory.”

“About what?”

“About Malcolm's family”

“Hmm,” you hummed, with your mouth full of pepperoni pizza. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve been thinking, and I believe Hal suffers from compulsive lying and gambling addiction, in addition to clearly seeking a mother figure in Lois. She has obsessive-compulsive disorder, needing to control everything to feel that things will go well; I’d say she’s a bit narcissistic as well, and she’s addicted to nicotine. Francis is completely impulsive, and I would even dare say he suffers from oppositional defiant disorder. Reese displays sociopathic and antisocial behaviors and has low self-esteem that he reflects through violence. Malcolm is gifted, of course, but also has antisocial and narcissistic behaviors, and is even a bit controlling and self-pitying, as if he had the worst of each of his parents. Dewey has musical genius; he’s somewhat introverted but quite sensible, and I want to think he’s the least toxic in the family. I mean, considering the family environment they’re in, they could be worse, but I couldn’t help but notice those psychological peculiarities in each character.”

Throughout the time Spencer had been speaking, you watched him attentively, and when he finished, you let out a loud laugh.

“Reid, when did you have time to think about all that?”

“This week! I started to remember, and somehow I needed to talk to you about the psychology of each family member. I think it’s very interesting; that’s why.”

“Only you could watch a show like this and come to those conclusions,” you laughed friendly.

In the background, the sound of the Wilkerson brothers fighting actively filled the room, and suddenly your friend became shy.

“But what do you think? Do you think I’m right?”

“On all points. It’s a very accurate analysis, yes,” you murmured playfully, taking a sip of your beer. “Who’s your favorite character so far?”

“I think Dewey. He seems very sweet and small… I don’t know, I think he’s a very noble and intelligent boy. Malcolm makes the mistake of letting his ego control him; otherwise, he would be my favorite.”

“Mine is Francis,” you confessed. “When I was a teenager, I was hopelessly in love with him.”

“That makes sense. I think because of your childhood experiences, you seek those chaotic situations in the opposite sex. In your partners, more specifically.”

“Oh, so now you’re psychoanalyzing me?”

“If we’re talking about psychoanalysis from a Freudian perspective, of course not. But Jung, on the other hand, had some contributions that I think are more suitable…”

“Reid,” you interrupted, placing one of your hands on his arm to get his attention. “You know I love hearing you ramble about all that, but do you really want to do such a deep analysis about this? About Malcolm in the Middle?”

It wasn’t a complaint, of course; you just sounded amused by the situation.

“You’re right; I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’ve thought so much about it.”

“That’s how the minds of geniuses work, I guess,” you joked, giving him a playful shove with your shoulder. “But now I want you to relax; let your brain shut off a little so you can enjoy silly TV situations and eat pizza like any of us mortals.”

Your friend nodded, feeling strange about all the thoughts that had arisen from something as bland as a sitcom, and he settled back into the couch, asking you for another piece of pizza. You spent the entire time laughing, eating, and drinking beside him, chatting occasionally about the show or really anything else.

Suddenly, you started to find resemblances between the characters on your TV and your colleagues in the unit, and when you dared to compare Ida, Lois’s mother, with Chief Erin Strauss, he broke into loud laughter. You rarely heard him laugh so freely, and inevitably, you felt contagious with joy, even if your joke hadn’t been that funny.

“I think she does look a bit alike,” he finally said, practically sprawled on the couch from laughter. “Especially in… you know, her particular personality.”

“Do you think you would have been in the advanced class of brainiacs that Malcolm is in?”

“Of course.”

“Show-off!” you exclaimed, teasing him for the confidence with which he had spoken while playfully shoving him.

You settled in better and pulled a blanket that was nearby so that you two could cover yourselves at least from your legs to your laps. This involved shortening the distance between you, but it didn’t bother you at all.

“I like watching TV with you,” he suddenly murmured, finishing his last piece of dinner. Spencer didn’t like the crusts of the pizza, and you always offered to eat them for him, so that night was no exception.

“I like it a lot too. It’s like… we’re getting rid of a bit of all the stress from work, right?”

“Yeah, I believe so.”

“Especially if it’s with my best friend at work.”

“Am I your best friend at work?”

“Don’t get too excited. You are because I don’t have many options.”

The man let out a hearty laugh, but he took the compliment anyway. In silence, you continued watching the comedy until, at some point during the night, Spencer spoke:

“You’re also my best work friend. And that’s saying something, considering I do have more options.”

With a smile on your face, you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek soundly, like a little girl would do with her preschool friend. It was innocent and sincere.

In the presence of the cold creeping under your feet, you both cuddled closer to each other (in the most respectful and friendly way possible) and continued enjoying the marathon, quite happy to at least be able to steal a couple of hours from the busy life you led.

[littleskeletonprincessss]

step bro jschlatt?

YES OMG my first request! Thank you so much, anon!18+ (Or what ever your legal adult age is below the cut!)Disclaimer: I am a pathetic virgin so this probs won't be good. (I'm figuring you'd wanted smut...) so sorry if i mistook that.

When your mom first introduced you to Jeremy and his son, you were polite, of course. This guy made your mom happy, and you weren't going to do anything to ruin that, God knows your dad made her upset enough before he did you all a favor and left. That's not to say that it was easy, considering how obnoxious Schlatt was.

Schlatt made it painfully obvious he wanted to be anywhere but at that dinner. The entire time, he was fixated on his phone, not paying attention to anything being said, or the glares his dad kept shooting him, and undressing every waitress that passed by with his eyes. What a dick. He was even so full of himself to not go by his first name.

A few months down the road after Jeremy proposed, you and Schlatt were forced to spend more time with each other, being the maid of honor and best man. Venue tours, tastings, wedding details to be discussed in your new family chat, Schlatt of course only chiming in when he was forced.

Walking down the aisle next to Schlatt was the closest you two had ever been, stiffly linking your arm with his, cheesy picture day smiles stapled to your lips, pretending like you didn't hate each other.

As the years went on, you relationship with Schlatt changed. You still didn't like each other, but he talked more at family dinners and didn't seem like he wanted to off himself anytime you had to go somewhere together.

The downside of Schlatt getting more comfortable in the new family dynamic was now you argued like brother and sister.

You were watching a movie by yourself one day, lounging on the couch in the living room when Schlatt walked in, stood in your way for a minute, and then when you asked him to move, proceeded to halfway sit on you.

"Schlatt get off of me!"

"I'm not on you."

"Yes you are asshole, now get off." You told him, shoving and kicking him off you.

"Kids, please you're both in college. You don't need to argue like this all the time anymore." Jeremy shouted from the kitchen.

"But Dad he started it!" you cried. Schlatt just scoffed.

"I did not, the little princess is taking up the entire couch."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Y/N, Jonathan, so help me I hear one more word from either of you you're both grounded." your mom cut in.

Glaring at Schlatt you sat up so your feet weren't taking up so much space as Schlatt moved to the other end of the couch.

"You guys will have the house to yourselves tomorrow, your mom and I are going out of town to visit a friend, and we won't be back until Saturday night." Jeremy informed.

"Fine."

"Alright."

Answering disinterestedly, you and Schlatt kept watching the movie.

After school the next day, you waited for Schlatt at his truck. It'd been a long day, and you were getting a headache; you just wanted to go home and sleep.

"Alright Ted, I'll see you later. Yeah, 7:00 sounds great, see you then." You heard Schlatt speak into his phone, finally walking up.

"You going out tonight?" You asked, hopeful that you'd have the house to yourself for a nice, quiet night.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? No, Ted and Charlie are coming over." Schlatt answered, dropping into the drivers seat next to you and starting the car.

"Do they have to come over tonight? I was kind of just wanting a quiet night, go to bed early." You knew how loud and annoying Schlatt could get with his friends.

"It's not my fault you're fucking lame, princess. The world doesn't revolve around you." He answers, looking over his shoulder to back out, hand on the back of your head rest.

"Fine, Schlatt." You rested your head on the window, not in any mood to argue.

After getting home you dumped your bag on the kitchen table before heading to the medicine cabinet searching for ibuprofen.

Popping a few you headed upstairs to your room.

"I'm heading to bed early. Please try to be quiet with the guys tonight." you practically begged.

"You feeling okay?" Schlatt asked, seeing you take the medicine.

"I'm fine, just a headache. Goodnight."

You passed out pretty quickly, waking up a few hours later, your stomach growling.

Hearing the strangely quiet house you walked downstairs to find something to eat, seeing Schlatt sitting on the couch by himself, scrolling through his phone with some show playing in the background.

Noticing the time, you figured that his friends would be here by now.

"Where are Ted and Charlie?" you asked, voice rough from sleep, startling Schlatt.

"I told them I changed my mind." Schlatt said plainly. You wondered if it had anything to do with your headache.

"Too bad." you said, rubbing your eyes.

"I ordered a pizza, there's some left if you're hungry." Schlatt called, looking over his shoulder at you.

"Oh. Thank you." you whispered, seeing the pizza box sitting on the counter.

Walking over and opening the cardboard lid you saw your favorite toppings. Schlatt was always sure to make fun of your tastes in pizza whenever you had it as a family, so you were surprised. Nevertheless, you took a slice, quickly eating it before you took another piece and walked into the family room, sitting by Schlatt on the couch.

"What are you watching?"

"Hm? Oh. I'm not sure, haven't really been paying attention.

"Mmm."

You sat in a strange silence. Not the usual comfortable 'We're-not-firends-but-we're-forced-to-be-around-each-other-so-we'll-deal-with-it' kind. This was...awkward.

"So-- how are you feeling, princess?"

Schlatt must have noticed it too.

"Oh, um. Better. Thanks."

"Good."

Back to silence.

"Schlatt?"

"Hmm?"

"What made you change your mind about tonight?"

Your step-brother was quiet for a moment.

"I figured you'd wanted you sleep. You seemed quiet on the ride home and then you took the medicine-- I just thought it'd be best if it was just us tonight."

"Thank you, Schlatt. That was --sweet --of you."

This was different. This was the nicest you had ever been to each other.

"You're welcome, (y/n)."

Another heavy silence.

"This is weird right?" You asked.

"Oh, so fucking. I'm glad you caught that too."

Smiling you reach over and steal the remote off the couch arm next to him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing with that?" Schlatt moved to take it back.

"I wanna watch a movie and you're not even paying attention to the TV right now."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Brat."

"Asshole."

Schlatt smiled towards to you. This was normal. This was how it was supposed to be.

"Fine, just don't put anything stupid on."

"I would never do such a thing. Alexa play Twilight Breaking Dawn." you say, looking straight into his eyes and trying not to laugh.

‐----------------

"Shut the fuck up it was all fake?"

"A vision of the future, yes."

"Unbelievable. This series actually puts in a good scene and that's what they do with it? Take it all back?"

You and Schlatt had been making fun of the movie the entire time, it was the most fun you'd ever had with him. You actually had close to the same humor and were getting along pretty well.

Calming down from you laughing fit you let out a big sigh as you lean your head back.

"Why don't you think we've ever gotten along?" You ask, turning to face him.

"What do you mean?" He asks, leaning back into the couch.

"You've always seemed like you hated me or something. Like I was this big inconvenience that came into your life."

"I never hated you, princess. I don't know, I think it might have just been hard, you know? Mom had been gone for what seemed like 10 minutes and all of a sudden Dad is dating this woman and I have a new step-sister. It kinda seemed like he'd forgotten her and our family."

"I've never thought about that."

You knew that Schlatt's mom hadn't been gone long before Jeremy was out on the dating scene again, only a few months really, but you didn't think about the fact that Schlatt actually loved his mom, had a good relationship with her. It wasn't like you, who hadn't cared about your other biological parent.

"I'm sorry, Schlatt." You said, putting your hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way all this time, Princess."

Schlatt looks over at you, and you can tell he's the most sincere you've ever heard him speak. And in that moment, you realized how bright his eyes were when he was happy, more of an amber instead of the chocolate brown you'd originally thought. His slight smile, the scar on his strong chin you'd learned he'd gotten from playing baseball when he was little. So many little things you were too busy hating him to notice before. And then, you noticed how close you were sitting, bodies turned towards each other, his arm across the back of the couch behind you. You didn't have time to register any of it before you noticed his lips on yours.

The kiss was warm, gave you chills, firm, soft, hungry, caring, everything it could be all at once. And wrong. But god, it felt so right. Your eyes fluttered shut --

And then it ended. Schlatt pulled away, and scooted as far back from you as he possibly could.

"(y/n) I am so sorry. I kind of just got caught up in the moment, and you were sitting there and you had that sweet look on your face that you always have, and your hair looked so good, and your lips looked so soft and -- God i'm so stupid. I'm so so sorry--"

"Schlatt--"

"I know, it shouldn't have happened. It just felt right in the moment and I--"

"Would you shut the hell up? I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

"Listen, yeah the situation isn't exactly ideal. But it's not like you're actually my brother."

Schlatt scooted the tiniest bit closer to you. You could see the little hamster wheel in his head spinning, calculating every little move he did.

You decided to test the waters and scooted closer to him.

His hand inches closer until it's resting on your thigh, but once it is he can't keep them off you. You're pulled into him, one hand in your hair, the other pulling your leg over his before sliding it up your back. His lips are fighting hard for dominance over yours, and just for good measure his tongue decided to come out to play too.

"Schlatt-" you whisper a moan. Pulling away to catch your breath, your head leans back and Schlatt moved to suck on your neck. Catching his lips in a kiss you mumble out a soft admonition.

"No hickeys."

"Wanna mark you up baby." Schlatt growls out.

"But what would mom and dad say?" You weren't necessarily the most popular with guys at school and you'd never brought a guy over.

Groaning Schlatt moves away from your neck.

"I know you're right, but, fuck Princess." He looks all over your flushed face, before racing his eyes over the rest of your body, his once shining amber eyes dark, pupils blown wide with lust.

Smiling you press your lips against his again, craving something you'd gone so long without.

You can feel Schlatt smile as his hands trail down your back before sneaking past your shirt, tickling the small of your back.

It wasn't enough for you. Reaching down you pull your shirt over your head and hear a repressed moan from the man sitting beneath you.

"You're perfect." Schlatt breathes before leaning in and kissing your bare chest, thanks to your decision to forego a bra during your nap.

Tangling your fingers in his thick chocolate curls you tug, trying to assert the slightest bit of dominance.

Schlatts fingers dug hard into your hips, holding you tight to his lap, making sure you could feel what you were doing to him between your thighs.

Rocking slightly seeking for any kind of friction, you're almost immediately pushed on your back, lying with Schlatt hovering over you. His body was so warm...so hard against yours....

"Gotta be careful, Princess," Schlatt pulled you from your thoughts. Leaning down to brush his lips against yours, he mumbles a quiet "or I won't be able to stop myself from fucking you right here."

This was it, there was no coming back from what had been said. Both of you knew that, and something told you neither of you cared in the slightest.

"Then don't." You leaned up, pressing your lips fully against his, trying to show him how much you needed him.

Schlatt returned the kiss with the same if not more enthusiasm, before lifting himself slightly to take his shirt off. He didn't outwardly show it, but Schlatt was built like a mountain, strong and broad, and no one had ever looked so good to you.

Leaning back down to kiss you, you place your hands on his mutton chops, slightly scratching his cheeks with your nails as his hands travel from your neck down your chest, stopping to slightly tease your hardening nipples, drawing a whine from you.

"Aww, does my baby like that?" Schlatt moves to your neck again leaving hot open mouthed kisses.

"Mmhmm," you babble, your pleasure making your brain foggy. You can feel Schlatt chuckle against your throat.

Giving one of your nipples another quick flick, Schlatts longer fingers tickle down your stomach, stopping to run along the waist band of your leggings, which you'd decided were too hot to wear any longer

"Please take them off, Schlatt."

"Please what, Princess?"

"P-Please, Daddy."

"Good Girl" Schlatt purred into your ear before sitting up to slide your leggings down your legs.

Schlatt watched with wide eyes, taking in every inch of revealed skin.

"God, baby. These legs are going to be the death of me."

"Oh. Shame, I thought maybe it'd be drowning between them." You whispered.

And then immediately cringed.

Schlatt barked out a laugh. "That was the lamest thing you've ever said, and you've said a lot."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, no, Princess. I think you've got that confused." Schlatt leaned back in once your leggings were off and captured you lips with his, letting his tongue explore every inch of your mouth.

God was he a good kisser. You were already nearly out of breath and moaning into his mouth. Your fingernails were digging into his back, holding on for dear life, too out of it to even think that you might be hurting him.

But as good as this was, you knew you needed more. Needed him, all of him on top of you, inside you, under you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you tried your best to push his sweatpants down.

Schlatt took your hint and pushed his sweats and boxers down, letting his dick spring out, harder than anything you'd ever seen and perfectly curved.

His kisses became desparate before moving to your neck, sucking hickeys before you could stop him as he ripped your damp thong off.

Breaking the kiss you look down in surprise. "Schlatt!"

"Shut up i'll buy you a new one I promise." He barely spit out before kissing you again.

Letting his tip kiss against you your back arched from the stimulation you'd been craving.

"Good baby girl. You like that, huh? Like feeling Daddy's cock? God it's barely touching you, you little slut."

All you could do was nod, who the fuck knows what he was saying to you.

Kneeling, Schlatt looked down, watching him push further into you.

"Schlatt-"

"Shh. It's okay honey. I know, I know it feels so good, doesn't it? Now open that gorgeous little mouth for me."

Letting you mouth fall open Schlatt pushed in two of his fingers, making you gag.

"Oh, are they too much for you, sweetie? Are my fingers too thick for you? Jesus Christ how are you ever going to take my cock? Come on, baby, you need your practice. Suck on your Daddy's fingers."

Taking a deep breath you shut your eyes, doing your best to focus on sucking on his fingers, pressing your tongue against them.

"That's it, angel."

Once he had you preoccupied he trailed his other hand across your thigh. "I'm going to push all the way in now, Angeltits. It's going to hurt, but I'll go fast I promise."

Nodding against his fingers, Schlatt pulls them from your mouth, now covered in your saliva and placing both of his hands against your hips before pushing the rest of his length in.

Throwing your head back you gasped, hot tears falling from your eyes and a sharp stinging taking over.

Schlatt immediately leaned down, hands coming up to hold yours against the bed on either side of your head, kissing your tear streaked cheeks before whispering reassurances against your lips

"Shh. I know baby, I know. Just hold on, it's going to feel so much better, I promise. I'm gonna take care of you honey. That's my girl. So good for me, aren't you Princess? Just hold on to me baby."

"It's so much, Daddy."

"I know. Don't worry that's all you'll have to take until your ready, yeah? M'right here my love."

Hearing the sweet words fall from his lips another round of tears form in your eyes for an entirely different reason. Wrapping your arms around his neck you pull him close to you, chests pressed against chests, wanting him as close as possible to you.

After a while and the paid had faded you started to feel how full you were and how nice it felt. It was like a piece you never realized was missing was put back in place and you were whole.

Kissing Schlatt's cheek you nod, silently asking him to keep going.

"Yeah?"

"Mm. Slowly?"

"Of course, baby. Anything you want."

Schlatt slowly starts to move back and forth, inch by inch, letting you get used to the feeling. He knew this was your first time, and he was going to make sure that it was the greatest experience for you.

And what an experience you were having. You didn't even know something could make you feel as good as you felt right now. Even when you would try to take care of yourself, it was nothing compared to this. The feeling was making you arch your back, crane your neck, grip the cushion beneath you, doing anything you could to just--let out this feeling.

"Shit-" You let out.

"Feeling okay, sweet cheeks?" Schlatt smirked out.

A moan chased away whatever you were about to say as he hit a spot inside you. A spot that had your toes curling.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Once Schlatt reached a steady pace of moving in and out of you, his hand moved between your legs, gently brushing against you.

"So wet, baby."

He continued his ministrations and hip movements, going faster and faster and each thrust he seemed to press his hips harder against you, like he was trying to break through a brick wall that would let his dick claim more of you.

You had no clue how much time had passed, but it was enough that you were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and you could feel it running down your forehead and down your neck. Your hair was curling around the edges, and you felt sticky. Looking up at Schlatt took your breath away, no longer seeing your step brother but an Adonis above you, his thick hair damp and pressed against his forehead, his eyes closed in pleasure and mouth hung open as if in silent prayer.

You began to feel a burning between your legs, that delicious pressure building and buliding in your tummy.

"Sch-Schlatt."

Schlatt could only nod quickly, falling to stick his face in your neck, breathing in your scent and panting hard against you.

"Come on, baby. Let go. I"m right here, right there with you."

A few more thrusts had you seeing a bright lights and your ears ringing as you sank your teeth into Schlatt's shoulder. You could feel Schlatt groan and felt his warm cum spill inside of you in thick spurts.

Lounging in the afterglow, both of you panting, Schlatt leaned his neck up to place a long, slow kiss against your lips.

"You did so good for me, Princess. I'm so proud."

Giving Schlatt a sweet smile you kissed him again, your eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

Slowly sliding out of you to avoid any more stimulation, Schlatt leaned down to pull up his boxers, kicking off his sweats and heading to the guest bathroom and bringing back a warm damp washcloth.

"Here we go, baby. Come on, lets get you cleaned up."

Gently wiping your thighs clean, Schlatt took care of you, making as much of the sticky feeling as he could go away.

Putting the washcloth on the coffee table, he helped you pull on his sweats and letting his shirt fall over your head, picking you up and letting you wrap around him like a koala before heading to the stairs to his room.

Looking over his shoulder you see the mess the two of you had made, washcloth on the coffee table, your clothes strewn about, cushions all over the place and the large wet spot where you'd been laying.

"The couch-" you mumbled tiredly.

Schlatt turned to see what you were talking about before giving you a sweet smile and kissing your temple.

"It's okay sweetheart. We can clean up tomorrow before our parents get home. But right now we have to go to bed, okay?"

Nuzzling into his neck you place soft kisses in agreement and let your eyes fall shut.

You were already half asleep when Schlatt lied you down and pulled the blanket over both of you before pulling you in to his chest and letting you turn to rest your head on his chest, letting his quick heartbeat and fingers softly grazing down your arm lull you to sleep.

"Love you, Princess." You heard him whisper before you fell asleep, thinking about your step brother.

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

AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH OKAY I FINISHED! i'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG AND IT WAS PROBABLY SO RUSHED AND FAST BUT AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA.

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 5: Leap

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

cw: dark themes, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, *read at your own discretion* take care of yourselves & know that the world is better to have you in it🫶🏻

word count: 3.6k

[<<<chapter 4]

It’s quiet, when you step out onto your balcony. Peaceful. Finally.

The days had come and gone, three, to be exact- after Johnny and Simon had become privy to the king’s violence towards you. And, much to your chagrin, they didn’t seem to believe when you told them you would be fine, that these things happen, and you are not naive enough to believe that they would have never happened to you at some point.

It is a woman’s place in the world, after all, to serve her father, her lords, her husband, her king. Even a queen does not see any favor in this regard, at least not in a way that matters, no, not to you-

”Do you pity me, Ser Simon?”

Your question stumps him for a moment, as he watches you closely, following three paces behind you- no more, no less. He’s watched you stroll through the stables like this, nodding your head so politely, greeting the hands and lords, alike, with a kind smile.

And ever so often, you’ll peek over your shoulder- though, he doesn’t imagine a world where you could possibly think he wouldn’t be there when you cast your fleeting glances.

But pity you? No.. he only pities the king isn’t here right now, so that he could show the man how it feels to have a much stronger hand wrapped around his puny neck-

The thought brings a sneer to his face, one he’s glad you cannot see.

“No, My Queen.”

You stop in front of Johnny’s horse, a tall, leggy beast; his color such a deep chestnut, it almost looks red in the sunlight, save for a perfect white blaze that runs from his forelock to his muzzle-

“I suppose I should be grateful.” You hum with amusement, though your expression is anything but, “Some of us get a taste on our wedding night, hm.. At least I got a few years of peace. If you can call it that-”

He reaches forward without thought, a large, black clad hand coming down tenderly to rest on your forearm,

“Don’t say that-”

A quiet clatter from just outside reminds him of how unduly this might look, how familiar he’s let himself get with you. Simon’s never been one for physical touch, but the small, terribly chaste moments have only grown in abundance. A graze of your hand here, or a brushing of your shoulder there.

He just can’t seem to be close enough to you, and he loathes himself for it-

You watch him step back to a respectable distance before he continues speaking lowly, close enough for you to hear, but far enough to excuse if anyone were to see; you think about how sweetly the tickle of his breath might feel against your skin, and his next words do nothing to chase those thoughts,

“No one deserves that, least of all, you, My Queen.” It’s so hard to keep your eyes forward, your hands feel too idle, your body far too wired, too aware of his proximity, “When a man touches a woman, it should never be out of anger, it should never be to cause pain, or inspire fear.”

His tone dips into a growl at the end, one that causes a deep shiver to creep up your spine and your hair to raise on end,

“No.. Do not be grateful for that- a man’s touch should be kind and gentle, it is a man’s duty to protect and reassure, to give comfort, and pleasure.”

That same shiver turns impossibly hot now, your skin prickling with such a deep-seated desire to know exactly what he means, to know the implications that were implied. But, you could not know, and you know he couldn’t give that to you, try as he might. You wouldn’t let him.

His words ring in your head now, just as loud as they did hours ago. Painfully clear and repetitive, the feelings they brought with it wrapping you in a shroud, one that you can’t quite decide if you like or not- because you can’t tell if it brings you a sense of caring, or if it just reminds you how alone you are in this situation.

But when every direction you look in feels wrong, like a dead end, how else are you suppose to feel? What else can you do?

The winds pick up for a moment as you stare out over the gardens, bringing with it a thick wave of petrichor; the storm moving close enough to scent the air and fill the sky with brilliant flashes of lightning in the distance.

How fitting..

This is good, no one will be out, and the rain will come soon enough to wash you clean of your sins-

Maybe a part of you will stay here with the gardens. You did always enjoy when your mother’s maids would tell their enthralling tales of ghastly apparitions, of the souls who either chose not, or could not, move on to the afterlife- so they stay behind to haunt amongst the living.

The gardens were your solace in life, so perhaps you could find peace in them again- if you could not move on. Or perhaps, your soul might find its way home, where you can watch over your sweet Johnny, see your family grow old.

Poor Johnny.. He’ll be so heartbroken..

Sharp nails dig into the skin of your palms as you scolding your own traitorous thoughts. That’s not what you needed right now, not when you must be resolute and sure. Yes, he will be heartbroken, but he will be alive, he will live out his days just as you made him promise.

And he had promised to go home today, promised to settle the matter of his inheritance and speak with his father- though, it was surely not a one-sided promise. Johnny had only, reluctantly, mounted his horse after you also promised to come visit in two weeks time, just long enough for you to make preparations.

You hated lying to him, you really did, every second of it made you feel ill to your stomach- but, he’s gone, on his way home, safe.

But Simon..

He is standing his post right now, right there. Exactly where he should be. You could go to him, you could demand he take off his helmet so that you may finally, finally see his face, so that he could be the last thing you see before you go-

No, you could never demand something like that of him. What ever reasons he has for hiding his face are his own.. and what would you do if he did remove it, anyway?

Would you ask for a kiss? Or, just that he hold you, truly hold you, just one time-

You can’t help but to smile at your own innocent foolishness; a kiss? To be held? What silly whims..

You did write him a letter, too. And it was difficult, trying to articulate the feelings you have for him, for this man you’ve never seen, this man who by every right, you should not feel anything for- but, you wanted to try.

Because you hope, maybe, that your words will give him some comfort. You don’t want him to feel guilty, or like it might have been his fault- and you have a feeling not many people have expressed such things to a Ghost..

A quiet laugh erupts from your chest then, followed by a choked sort of sound, wet and syrupy and thick in your throat at the terrible, awful idea that one day you might be ghosts together. Right back in the gardens, walking among the fragrant flowers and tall hedges, you might find each other again-

With that thought, and a deep, shaky breath, you lift the skirt of your nightgown and step up onto the lower stone surrounding, lifting your legs up and over the intricate railing one at a time. A hearty gust of wind whips your hair back and forth, and you gasp as you truly take in just how high off the ground you are, your hands gripping the iron beneath them with every bit of strength you have to muster.

But, you don’t feel scared.

You feel an odd rush of excitement, no, that’s not right- it’s far more nuanced than that. And perhaps, it’s just that this is undoubtedly the most reckless and thrilling thing you’ve ever done. The small taste of freedom intoxicating, having rarely, if ever, made a single decision for yourself that was selfish in every facet.

It is a shame, you think, that it took so long. And what if, you don’t do this? Will this confidence still be here tomorrow? Or days from now? Months, when your king is back-

No, no.. don’t do that.

You feel the softest splash of a raindrop on your cheek, then another, more after that. It’s still unseasonably warm out, making the cool liquid feel refreshing against your feverish skin, and the stormy breeze a reprieve.

But, if it all feels so wonderful, like a child again, simply playing in the rain, why do you feel the salty heat of tears mixing with the raindrops?

And why can’t you tell if they’re out of sadness, or relief, or some horrific mixture of the two?

“My Queen.”

At the sound of his voice, the droplets no longer feel good or refreshing, and the wind does not help the burning in your skin because the heat has been replaced with an icy dread. He was not suppose to be here, he shouldn’t have left his post, there couldn’t have been a good reason to, and you told him, you made it very clear that you were not to be disturbed tonight-

“My Queen, don’t move. Let me-”

“No.”

You still haven’t turned to look at him, you can’t, not if you wish to keep the resolve you’ve forged. Because you know, one look at those damned eyes and you would crumble at his feet.

“Go back to your post, Ser Simon.”

He steps closer as you speak, the sound his movements muffled by your voice, and the now howling winds that blow wildly around you. This is something he never imagined to see, not now, and certainly not when you had left him outside your chambers door.

He knew you were grieving seeing Johnny go- no matter the forced smiles, he knew your expressions, he could read you like a book. But, this..

Once again he finds himself internally cursing his own ineptitudes because how could he make the same mistake again? How could he not see that he let a monster into your room and locked you in with it.

“Come down, and I will.”

You bark out a laugh, your fingers growing fatigued and your legs beginning to tremble as you hold on,

“Do not forget your place, good Ser.. You do not command me, and I have no patience for your bargaining.”

The words feel like the most bitter of poisons on your tongue, but you ground them out anyway. If you could just push him away, if you could make him go- then you can finish this. You can save him, save him from yourself, and the stain you would leave on his name, his very life.

“You’re right.. I’m sorry, My Queen. But, please-”

Simon can feel the edges of his nerves fraying in every direction as he speaks that one helpless plea, his knees feel weaker than ever before, his fingers twitch and clench together, longing desperately to reach for you- to pull you away from danger, pull you into his arms, and never let you go because he cannot lose you. Not when he’s only just found you. And certainly not like this.

He would drop to his knees and vow all over again, vow on his life, that he will make you see how worthy you are to be in this world, and that it is the world that is not worthy of you. But, he’s also seen this before, seen good soldiers lose battles that are quiet, invisible to everyone around them. Hells, he’s been to the depths of his own mind, and it nearly saw the end of him-

“No, Simon.” Your voice is surprisingly confident and steeled as you squint against the rain, your nightgown clinging to your goose pimpled skin and your hair stuck in thick strands across your face, “I do not want you to be here. I relieve you of this responsibility- and please know, that this is of no fault of your own. You are good, and kind, and you have been-”

A small sob wracks through you, knowing that you are just prolonging the inevitable, knowing that all you are doing now is subjecting him to your own unguided anguish.

So, so selfish.. He will be better without you-

“Look at me,” He calls out your name, and you almost give in, almost.

“No. NO. I cannot do that, and you know I can’t. I can’t live like this, but if I stay, or if I run, people I love will be hurt- and I cannot see that happen. I cannot live my life in fear of my husband’s hand. I do not want to be his plaything, or his broodmare, but I have nothing else! This is all I was ever meant to be- it’s all I’ve never known, but you can’t possibly understand.”

Slowly, you pry one hand open, and that thrilling rush of terror and anticipation floods you again, the ground below doesn’t look so far away now, and the gardens are right there, a pretty view-

”I’m so sorry.”

“No! LOOK. AT. ME!”

Something in his voice, in the unwavering, undeniable authority and desperation makes your head turn without permission. Through the mist and shadows, you see his familiar armor glinting in the sparse, pale rays of moonlight that have fought their way through the clouds. But, that’s not what makes your eyes widen, and your jaw to go slack.

It’s his helmet hanging loosely from the tips of his fingers, his face- his face- bared to you, dark hair matting to his forehead under the weight of the water, amber eyes intense and focused,

“Simon..”

You blink in surprise when he thrusts the helm towards you suddenly, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he all but glares back at you, and gods, you wish you could just see him better- see the soft angle of his nose in proper lighting, and the dark scar that runs across the bridge of it,

“Take it. It is yours now.” He demands, stepping close enough for you to reach for it if you choose, “I swore my life to you, and I meant it, every word. To defend you from harm or threat.”

One more step.

“To obey your commands. To defend your honor and your name. To counsel if requested, and remain silent and steadfast at your side otherwise. To never wed, take no land, and father no children.”

Again, he pushes it closer, looking down at it with anger and fondness before looking back up to you; and the most errant thought crosses your mind of how many people he’s ever actually had to cast his eyes upward for,

“My life is yours, My Queen. I.. am yours.”

No. No. You can’t, and you shouldn’t- and yet, your hand reaches forward, your fingers shaking, and your cheeks so covered with tears that you don’t know where they stop and the rain begins.

The steel is cold and wet, and you hardly feel the weight of it at all as you stare down at the angular cutouts for his eyes, wide and sharp; the raised crest that runs vertically from the peak of his face shield to the very back. You’ve always thought his armor to be such a beautiful amalgamation of elegant lines and aggressive angles, which seeing his face now, you can see how it matches him so perfectly-

A very unladylike shriek parts your lips the moment your fingers find purchase, Simon using your hold on his helmet to jerk you forward, and in the blink of an eye, a strong arm loops around your waist as he pulls you up and over the railing,

“Simon! No!”

But, it’s too late, and his hold on you is too strong. It doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t feel angry, or out of spite- quite the opposite, in fact. While his arms are unmovable, he has you clutched to his chest with an arm around your torso and one supporting your legs as he carries you into the dry warmth of your rooms, helmet long forgotten on the cold stone outside.

“You can’t-”

He sets you on your feet, but his hands don’t stray far- and now that you’ve lost your height advantage you’re left in awe at how large he looms over you, holding your arms before he’s yanking the soaked gloves off between his teeth,

“I can.” Simon growls, placing a wide palm on either side of your face, calloused thumbs gently wiping the rain and tears away, “Go on, little queen, tell me what I can’t do, and I’ll show you exactly what I will.”

Your lip quivers pathetically as you look up at him, “He will kill us for this..”

You have no doubts of this, it is one of the many reasons why you wanted to leap from that balcony, so that you did not have to live this insidious façade anymore- because you couldn’t, you couldn’t have Simon at your side and not have these thoughts, these feelings, insatiable and unquenchable. And to know he could possibly feel the same-

“The king’s head would fall before he ever laid another hand on you.”

The air around you itself seems to grow hot and heady at his words, at the minuscule distance between his lips and yours; lips that are scarred and flushed a deep pink, so beautifully offset from his pale skin,

“You’re a mad man.” You whisper.

And, oh, the way those lips pull into a smile you have longed to see- his eyes crinkling around the edges. It is not a handsome smile, no. It is willful and amused, and broad, and wonderful, as a laugh rumbles through him,

“Now that, My Queen, I am..”

But maybe it is you who are the mad one, or it could still be the adrenaline pumping through your system, hazing your mind and your inhibitions, or that now prevailing desire to simply make decisions for yourself- to be selfish.

Either way, you’re the one who leans forward, wrapping your arms around his neck in order to pull yourself up enough to crush your lips against his. To finally feel everything you’ve dreamt of, the wonders you’ve fantasized, all of them centered around your guard, your dark knight. And here he is, right at your fingertips, his mouth moving so naturally, so perfectly in sync with yours.

Kissing Simon is unlike anything you ever felt with your King, it is reverent and gradual, like he wants to learn you, to know you intrinsically, intimately, to worship you first and foremost- the way his hands hold you so tenderly, his fingers tangling in your mess of wet hair, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss slowly and thoroughly.

But, too soon, he pulls away; sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as if to savor just the taste of you, his eyes darker than you think you’ve ever seen, and your name spoken like a quiet prayer, begging you to relent, pleading for you to keep him a honorable man- as honorable as a man like him can be.

“Please, My Queen..”

You look up at him again, his hands still holding your face as you lean away, letting your own hands slide over the sleek surface of his spaulders all the way down to hold his wrists, feeling his skin hot and damp under yours,

“You’ve felt the same things?” You ask meekly, ashamed of your own lack of self-esteem.

Simon tilts his head to the side, eyes darting back and forth with not only disbelief, but concern and wonder, another smile tugging up the left corner of his mouth. It’s softer this time, one that only serves to make you melt further into him as he speaks,

“Yeah, sweet girl, I have. I hadn’t felt anything for a long, long time before I met you. Got to know you from afar, got to see the way you treat those around you even when they don’t deserve it-”

He leans down to press his forehead to yours,

“You called me good, and kind, but I couldn’t disagree more. Because it’s only for you. You showed me what humanity can be, you gave me hope in what I’ve fought for my whole life, since I was old enough to wield a sword. I’ve won wars for old wretches, and young bastards, who’ve never even seen the soil on a battlefield..”

You hang on to his every word, relishing in his thick accent, memorizing every sound to his voice because you don’t think he’s ever spoken so much in one sitting,

“But you.. little queen, have given me a hope I thought was long lost. A hope for somethin’ more, a reason for the atrocities committed at my hand.”

He kisses you this time, it’s quick and soft, but somehow even better than the first one, somehow you feel more behind it, you feel so much of him that it steals the breath from your lungs,

“I’m goin’ to get you out of here. I swear it.”

thank you for being here 🥹

[chapter 6>>>]