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masonmtxo · 3 months ago

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Anytime you need me - Rewrite

Summary: Mason gets a call to pick his girlfriend up from the club

Words: 3k ish

Note: this is a rewrite of my first ever fic! It’s doubled in length and has been changed slightly so hopefully it’s a bit better than the original! As always, feedback is appreciated 🩷

Mason awoke with a start at the sound of his phone continuously buzzing on his bedside table. Rolling over and reaching to grab it, the time 2:06 am flashed up on the screen.

Squinting at the bright light, he flicked his messages open, clicking on your name as numerous notifications filtered down the screen.

He smiled to himself, rolling his eyes at your blatant drunkenness but pleasantly surprised that the messages were entirely coherent, half expecting you to have blown his phone up with nonsense. He slowly sat up and stretched as he clicked the call icon beside your name, eyes still too full of sleep to attempt texting you back.

You picked up on the first ring, some rustling coming down the line before he heard you speak, “Maseyyy, hiiii baby!” Your voice was slurred, a faint thumping from the bass of the club's music could be heard in the background but not so loud he couldn't hear you. Mason frowned slightly, assuming you couldn't have been inside the venue if the music was so distant.

It wasn't often you rang Mason in the middle of the night to pick you up from a night out, when you went out for drinks with friends it would usually end at a much more civilized hour, Mason more often than not acting as your taxi. But on the rare occasion you were out beyond midnight, you would avoid disturbing Mason at all costs, not wanting to wake him up when he had a match or training the following day. You had always promised to ring him in an emergency though, so his heart jumped at the thought of you potentially being unsafe.

"Hi pretty girl, are you okay?” He tried to keep his voice level as his anxiety spiked.

“Yeah baby I’m okay,” your wobbly voice echoed into his ear, “I was wondering if you could pick me up? Lana has found a random bloke so isn’t going home now. I was gonna get a taxi home because I can’t stay at hers like planned but since you're off tomorrow I figured you'd get mad if I did.”

“Yeah of course, I'm just getting ready to come and get you now,” he couldn't help but feel irritation swell in his chest and the thought of your friend abandoning you but was relieved that you had asked, “Where are you?"

He stood from the bed, walking to the chair stood in the corner of your bedroom and yanked on his hoodie and joggers that he had thrown on it a few hours prior.

“outsideeee", you giggled down the line after a pause and another rustle in the background.

He sighed deeply, coming to the quick realisation that you weren't as sober as your messages had led him to believe, "I know that baby, what club are you at?"

In between drunken giggles you revealed the name of the club that you had ended up in that night, quietly whispering down the line that it smelt like sweaty feet in there and that was why you had taken it upon yourself to wait outside.

Furrowing his eyebrows at your response he quickly grabbed his keys from the dresser and jogged down the stairs, "Wait, are you on your own?"

"Noooo, there's a man being sick next to the lamppost and I think his friend is asleep on the floor right by my feet!" You giggled, resulting in another deep sigh from your boyfriend.

"Y/n how many times have I told you not to wander off on your own?” He grumbled out as he slid into his car, his half asleep body shivering from the cold.

The call dropped for a second as he started his engine, connecting through his car causing him to wince as your voice echoed through his speakers.

"I'm not on my own baby, I just told you, I'm with new friends!"

Mason couldn’t help but laugh at your cheer before quickly remembering his drunk girlfriend was standing outside a sketchy club, "Two random drunk men do not count as friends love, where’s Lana?”

“I told you Mase, she left with a man just now!”

“You didn't say she had already left!” He chastised, “just she wasn't going back to hers.”

Mason couldn't help but feel his anger grow towards your friend, pissed off she had ditched you in favour of hooking up with a stranger from the club. Lana was a nice girl, but Mason had seen straight through her from day dot and was forever reminding you Lana’s friendship was only there until a man came on the scene. He never anticipated she would be one to desert you on a night out when you had plans to stay at hers, otherwise he would have stayed awake and kept tabs on you.

Mason sighed yet again, “please go and wait inside until I get there baby, I'll be 10 minutes.”

“It’s okay Mase, I’ll stay with my friends!” You smiled as the man on the floor beside you began to stir.

Mason could hear the man muttering in the background of the call, panic growing by the second. He didn't mean to sound so sharp, but knew it would be the only way to get you to pay attention through your drunken haze, “Get back inside. Now, Y/N."

Mason pulled off the driveway and began his drive through the quiet streets of Surrey as you mumbled down the line in protest but followed his instructions, the music now coming through the line louder and clearer than before, "Good girl, I'm hanging up now you're inside. Just wait there, I'm only round the corner."

Mason pressed his foot to the accelerator a bit harder, praying silently there were no police cars roaming the streets as he sped to your location.

A few minutes later the club came into sight and Mason pulled up in an empty space across the street. The two men he presumed you had been standing beside were still outside on the pavement, though two more men, who he suspected were bouncers, had now joined them.

Mason looked up from his phone to see your dress-clad figure stumble from the front entrance, rolling down his window to give you a wave as he spotted you scanning the road in front of you in search of his car.

Your face broke into a grin as you spotted him, quickly darting across the empty street to his car, but not before throwing a "Bye guys!" to the two partially unconscious men you had 'befriended'.

You reached his car, leaning in through the drivers window, pouting your lips to ask for a kiss which Mason granted, pressing his lips to yours in a quick peck.

"Hi baby, I missed you", you giggled into his neck as you leaned further into the car and cuddled into his warm body.

Mason reached up to stroke your hair back, gently lifting your head so he could see your face, "missed you too pretty, did you have a good night?" He asked.

You grinned back at him, slowly nodding your head and letting out a dragged out "Yesss, the best!"

"Good, now get in the car please before someone sees and thinks I'm soliciting you", he teased, aware you weren't in the nicest area and having a half dressed woman hanging through his car window down a dark street may have looked a bit suspicious to onlookers. He leaned across the car to open the passenger side door ready for you as you let out an offended gasp.

"Hey! I'm not a prostitute! I'm your girlfriend!" You laughed, lightly smacking his chest before stumbling around to the passenger side.

He hummed in response as you slid into your seat, throwing your bag at your feet with a tired sigh. He leaned across to plug your belt in after watching you struggle, giving you another quick kiss before starting his engine and pulling away.

He spent the entirety of the short drive home quietly chuckling in response to your drunken ramblings, animatedly giving him a play by play of your night's adventures.

"And then, as I was waiting to order my drink, this guy came over and I think he might've been flirting with me, Mase!" You gasped, "he offered to buy me a drink and he kept looking at my boobs, which I thought was pretty rude. But anyway, I told him I wasn't interested and 5 minutes later he was necking on with some other girl on the dance floor so I really don't think he was that interested either!"

Mason couldn't help but burst out laughing, reaching his hand across the center console to grasp your hand in his, giving your fingers a light squeeze.

“Why are you laughing at me?” You frowned, head tilted in confusion, “That is not very nice. I haven't said anything funny.”

His lips trembled as he tried to contain his chuckles, pulling your hand up to place a kiss to it in apology, “sorry baby, you're right. Did you have a good time apart from that?”

“Yesss!” You nodded animatedly, “I had to make new friends though as Lana was sitting at the bar with this bloke most of the night.”

Mason sighed in response, reminding himself in the morning to speak to you about being careful around your so-called friend. He would never tell you what you could or couldn't do, but he couldn't help but itch at the thought of you going out with just her again. His brain was in overdrive imagining the position you may have been in if he wasn't there to come and pick you up.

“I’m glad you had fun baby girl,” he kissed the back of your hand once again, holding it against his lips for a moment as he focused on the road ahead.

He looked across at you as he pulled onto the drive, innocently staring up at him with a soft smile making his heart clench at how much he adored you. Mason turned and pressed a kiss to your softly pouted lips, pecking you one, two, three times before turning to climb out the car and walk round to the passenger side to help you out. You'd made it as far as unplugging your seatbelt as he pulled the door open, reaching down to grab your clutch and heels that you had slipped off during the journey before scooping you up from the seat and carrying you bridal style up the driveway.

"Thank you for coming to get me," you whispered into his neck as he carried you to the front door, glancing back to check the car had locked as he placed you carefully on the doorstep.

"Anytime baby" he breathed against the side of your head as he unlocked the door.

The house was dark as you made your way in, the both of you heading straight for the stairs to take you up to your bedroom, fatigue setting in as the warmth of your house consumed you. You took the stairs slowly, Mason’s large hands wrapped around your waist to guide you from behind. You leant heavily into Mason's grip as he guided you through the bedroom door and directed you into your ensuite.

"C'mon baby, sit up on the counter,” he instructed, turning you and lightly lifting you from the hips until you were settled in front of him beside the sink.

He reached into the draw to his right, pulling out some wipes and gently beginning to wash away your makeup, softly tugging the false lashes from your lids as he stood between your thighs.

You stared up at him as he worked away, brows furrowed in concentration as he attempted to wipe away every trace of makeup on your skin.

You hadn't even realised your eyes were fluttering shut until the fingers that were cupping your jaw tapped lightly against your skin, "don't fall asleep on me just yet, pretty girl, you'll be annoyed if you wake up in the morning with makeup on."

You grumbled in response, eyes shutting completely as you felt your head beginning to spin, tiredness settling deep in your bones. You heard the click of a lid, flinching slightly as Mason wiped a cold blob of what you assumed was moisturizer onto your forehead, his gentle fingers massaging the cream into your skin making you sigh in contentment.

Reaching across behind you, fumbling around until you located your toothbrush and the tooth paste, eyes too blearly to properly see what you were doing. You squinted slightly as you squirted a blob onto the head of the brush, quickly wetting it and shoving it into your mouth.

"Good try babe,” Mason paused, a chuckle leaving his mouth, “but that's my brush.”

Glancing down to the toothbrush in your hand, you shrugged, continuing to scrub your teeth as he shook his head, muttering under his breath that he would just get another one tomorrow. You rolled your eyes, figuring he had shared enough of your germs throughout the years to be that concerned but settled down when he flashed you a cheeky smile.

Carefully unwrapping your legs from his waist, he ducked out of the bathroom, returning moments later with your pajamas in his hand.

“Spit,” he murmured after stepping back between your parted thighs.

Leaning to the side, you spat the tooth paste from your mouth as instructed and turned back to look up at your boyfriend who wiped the excess foam from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

Holding onto your hips, he gently slid you down from the counter and settled you on your feet, lifting your dress and slowly pulling it over your head. He worked in silence, unclipping your bra and sliding your knickers down your legs, quickly slipping his old t-shirt over your head before helping you step into your sleep shorts.

Once you were suitably dressed for bed and make-up free, he pressed another kiss to your lips and nodded his head towards the toilet, "go for a wee quick, otherwise you'll have us both awake again in an hour.”

You nodded in response, doing as you were told as Mason busied himself filling you a glass of water to take to bed and clearing away the used make up wipes. With a sideway glance, daring you to make a comment, he grabbed his toothbrush and gave his own teeth a quick refresh.

Flushing the toilet and shimmying your shorts back up, you joined him at the sink, knocking your hip into his as you washed your hands. He smiled with a shake of his head, watching as you skipped past him back into your bedroom and dove head first into the pile of sheets that had been left unmade from his previously disturbed slumber.

You sat up and watched him as he placed the glass of water on your nightstand, pulling your phone from your discarded clutch and plugged it in to charge. It was small actions like that that made your heart leap with affection for your boyfriend, knowing you would always be looked after and doted on as if it was second nature to him.

Mason stood back after helping you under the duvet, walking around to his side of the bed. Your eyes locked onto his bare body as you watched him pull his jumper over his head, admiring the way his back muscles moved under his soft skin. There was something so sexy to you about the way he undressed himself, roughly grabbing the collar of his top and seamlessly pulling it over his head, a sight that had you brain running away with itself as you thought back to all the times he had done that same action before having his way with you. The sight made you shiver and your skin heat, your alcohol fuelled hormones making your head spin.

Mason kept his back to you as he dropped his joggers over his narrow hips, sitting down on the edge of the bed to yank them off before settling in beside you, reaching to turn his bedside lamp off and engulfing the room in darkness.

You groaned in protest that the show had ended, rolling onto his chest as he laid back, gently scratching your nails across the light smattering of hair. He moaned in contentment at the feeling, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around you to pin you against his chest.

"I love you," you whispered into the dark, tucking your head into his neck, hooking your leg over his hips to cuddle into him impossibly closer.

"I love you too baby," Mason hummed, rolling himself into you so your bodies were pressed against each other, lips finding yours in the dark for a loving kiss. His lips molded against yours with ease, the kiss slow and gentle, Mason eventually pulling away to let out a tired yawn.

“We better get some sleep,” he sighed, settling into the pillow, nose brushing against yours as you had decided to share his for the night, not wanting to part from his embrace.

“Night Masey,” you whispered, pecking his lips one more time for good measure, “thank you for looking after me.”

"Always."

#mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount fic

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 10 months ago

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Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS Pt. 2 ]

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A/N: Don't kill me please guysss! I started like 3 classes last week so I haven't had time to write!

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT BDSM ] + [ CREAMPIE ] + [ BRANDING ]

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Swallowing your pride was easier said than done. Every nerve in your body screamed to move away from Alastor, cower somewhere safe and out of his reach, even if it wouldn't do you much good. He could do as he pleased with you, demand your obedience as he saw fit, and force your compliance without a second thought.

All of that imminent control loomed over your head and weighed your chest with anxiety while the courage to speak faltered, but as scared as he made you feel, he still felt like the safest person to be around.

Sitting there, in his lap, alone with no chance of avoiding him, was personalized torture. You hadn't muttered a completely coherent phrase since he'd brought you to the Radio Tower, face burning rose red as your brows knitted together with worry and your eyes fixed on the details of his suit rather than his face. You noted how smooth and taut the fabric spread over his form; you'd always been aware of how much larger the stag was compared to you; his thighs were firm against your ass which helped spread your softer ones apart. If you so much as shifted an inch or he decided to lift his leg, your skirt would ride up and reveal what was hidden underneath. A perfect position to rut in, a prime opportunity to alleviate the ache building in your cunt, but you refused to admit or show the desire to do so in his presence.

You'd have to take care of it yourself later in the evening like always. The objective of walking out of this intense situation was your concern at the moment, and so you lifted your head to stare at him, hopefully.

“What I said earlier…” you trailed off as Alastor hummed, a low crackle coating the noise as he brought a hand to rest under his chin. You watched as he leaned back, utterly relaxed, waiting for you to continue.

The smirk on his face annoyed you, a clear sign he either found your flustered state inconsequential or laughable. It wouldn't be abnormal for Alastor to react that way; it was his nature, and your fire little crush on him wouldn't change that.

I might as well get this over with…

Your face fell into a pout, hands raising to hug your arms to ease the goosebumps rising on your skin. “What I said earlier was in the heat of the moment. You're my master, and I see you as nothing more..”

The lie stung your tongue as it slipped off, gaze hardening to mask the disappointment felt in yourself for doing so.

Alastor remained silent; an elongated beat of anticipation hung above you both, growing denser as his predatory red eyes bore into yours. “I see,” he muses, voice low and thoughtful, but his smile strained.

“You feel nothing for me at all, my dear?”

You nod timidly, counting the seconds until he lets you off his lap and allows you to leave, “Nothing at all.” You repeat, gulping a whimper down as his free hand kneads the fat of your hips. “I'm not sure I believe that, darling. You’ll need to prove it to me.”

Your eyes widen, your tummy backflips, and your hands ball into tight fists as panic sets into your bones.

He couldn't be serious?!…

“W-what? How am I supposed to do that?!” you whined defiantly, frustrated with the stag and unbearably antsy.

Now, he was toying with you. Like always, you didn't deem that fair on his part -as if he ever played by any rules.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, “Oh, I think you're well aware of how sweetheart. It's truly a matter of what you prove to me by the end.” The commotion of radio static overlapped his voice heavily, emphasizing his hidden command with demonic prowess, and your body buzzed with unbridled fear at the sound.

What the hell is he talking about?..

Wait…

Within seconds, your brain caught up to his implication, and your hips instinctively bucked forward. Embarrassment crept up your spine, written all over your face as the overload chuckled at the impulsive action.

It would help if you had forced yourself up; you should've put up more of a fight as his hand on your hip lowered to slip under your skirt and up your inner thigh. It would help if you had leaped away, ran, or done anything to distance yourself and Alastor.

Yet, all you could manage was a soft, “Please don't..” as he touched you, but your plead received no compliance. Your body betrayed your consciousness; arousal pooled on his deft digits as he pushed two past your lace panties and straight into your eager cunt. The unusual invasion had your walls clamping down hard, spasming with need as he roughly curled his clawed fingers forward, and you yelped in shock at the immediate assault of your sweet spot. You weren't accustomed to being stretched by anyone else besides yourself, used to your fingers, but constantly thinking of having Alastor’s inside of you instead.

He was anything but a gentle demon, so you'd conclude that he'd be brutal in bed, but it still overwhelmed you. “You're not convincing me very well, little one.” his free hand found your face, clutching it tight as he dragged your head up to pull you closer. You whimpered as his nails pricked your soft skin, adding to the mix of agony and amazement you felt while he stretched your cunt in an unpredictable pattern.

“I. I don't feel anything for you. I’m not lying-ah! Nngh! Mm..” you writhed in his grasp, trying to pull away but only amplifying the friction of his hand against your cunt. Alastor pressed his palm to your clit, dragging a surprised scream from you as he rubbed slow circles on it. You lost it then, mind shutting off as he edged you tirelessly, and the added pressure on your bundle of nerves collided with the fullness his fingers provided.

Alastor hovered his lips above yours, drinking in your sultry whines and bashful moans. The fear never faded from your eyes; battling the lust that threatened to take its place and seeing the conflict in your innocent nature had his blood running hot.

Ruin you.

He wanted nothing more than to chip away at your indifferent demeanor, know just how soft and gullible you could be for him, and figure out how to abuse it until your soulbinding contract extended to ownership of your body.

His cock twitched to life at the thought of fucking you, dumb; hearing you admit over and over again that your affection for him knew no bounds doused his being in pure excitement.

A growl rumbled in Alaster's chest; his antlers grew larger with every desperate moan you let out, and his ears twitched upon hearing them reach a higher pitch.

You were dangerously close to your end, thighs quivering from the force of his hand thrusting against your slippery folds, slick dribbling down your inner thighs, which created an absolute mess on his lap.

“Look where your sweet little lie got you, my dear. Desperate for pleasure and willing to whore yourself out to me to prove a pathetic point..” The coil in your stomach wound tighter as the owner of your soul belittled you; the harsh word should've wounded you and made your senses reignite, but all it achieved was bringing tears to your eyes.

Bit by bit, your self-esteem declined, dulling the pride that ruled your heart and scattering to the furthest parts of your brain as he curled his fingers forward against a spongy sweet spot. “Oh fuck!” you shouted, trying to raise your hips away from him as a dizzying high rushed through your veins, steadying yourself by fisting the lapel of his suit for dear life. Alsstor turned his gaze downward, breathing in the scent of your cum with a pleased him vibrating in his chest as the creamy liquid drenched his hand, “Never imagined a tiny thing like you could make such a mess .” He slowed his pace, milking your cunt for all it was worth, marveling at how much cum he could extract from you with just his touch.

You shivered violently, choking on wanton screams and feeling lightheaded as he continued to stretch your gummy walls. If he didn't let up soon, you'd unravel again, faster than the first time, and so with the last bit of your self-awareness, you slumped forward into his chest before pulling your head to whisper in his ear.

“Wanna feel you, please.. I'll say whatever you wanna hear. Just fill me up, please.” The hold you had on his coat tightened, your claws elongating as a feverish need built in your core again, intensifying as Alastor nipped at your ear. You jolted, whimpering as his fangs drew blood from you, and the roar of white noise died down to allow his average voice clarity as he muttered into your skin. “Begging becomes you, my dear.”

The satisfied laugh he let out burned you, consumed you entirely, and though it felt cruel to hear it, you smiled proudly.

Your desperation pleased him. That was all you cared to know or think of as he withdrew his slender, blackened fingers from your generously stretched entrance. He left you empty, dripping with excitement and purring in his ear for more.

“Mmm, sweet, you are a little one. You should have a taste as well,” Alastor lapped at his hand, tongue lazily running from the heel of his palm to the tip of his claws, savoring your essence with a widening grin before pushing a single-digit pad on your lips. “Mphm,” you whine as you suck, eyes rolling as the mixture of your drool, his saliva, and the lingering residue of your cum dissipates onto your tongue like melting honey. He watched you intently, finding your willingness adorable, “Yes, just like that little one. Give me your all…show me how filthy you can be..”

His praise was enough to make you come again, untouched but gushing as if he'd shoved his fingers back inside you. The blush on your cheeks grew, shy whines spilling past your spit-slick lips, muffled as he replaced his hand with his own. Alastors tongue found yours, forcing it to compete for dominance, though it was apparent you were far from intelligent thought, and you let him explore your mouth as he pleased.

Borboun, blood, & brimstone.

That's what the Radio Demon tasted like, and you greedily accepted one heated kiss after the next, mewling and trembling as he sunk his fangs into your bottom lip. The deliberate pain he inflicted shocked you into a stupor; blood doused your tongue and consequently coated his as well. Alastor groaned in delight as you squirmed against helplessly, fearing the taste of your blood and afraid he'd draw more of it if you didn't break yourself away from him. He let you struggle, pants tightening at his crotch, an almost painful pulse coursing through his cock as your small body tried to peel away from him.

“Careful, little one,” he disconnects the kiss, breath fanning over your swollen lips as he warns you, and fear gets the better of you then.

Alastor could hurt you.

He would if it pleased him.

You'd crossed a line into territory no bound soul should ever do with its captor.

The limits you set not longer applied, thrown to the wind as the stag turned you in his lap, ripping your skirt and panties to shreds with a pass of his claws. You watched the fabric float to the floor at his feet, unconsciously shaking as he snaked his arms around your chest and waist, hugging you close like a puppet tied to his strings. You were exactly that, a frightful little thing who could barely think straight as he reached to undo the front of his pants, pulling his cock free with a heavy growl in your ear.

Your eyes went wide, feeling his length against your Lowe back, warm, throbbing, and not a size you could take in one go -let alone for the first time. “That's not going to fit-,” He rutted against you, silencing your apprehension with a statiky groan, “Nonsense, sweetheart. You've done splendidly for me so far. I know you'll be just fine..” Alastor had lost control of his voice, letting it slip into normalcy as lust clouded his judgment, and the minuscule deviation made you dizzy.

Did you entice him that much to the point he faltered in his persona?

Fascinating.

A shallow giggle left your lips as he mumbled obscenities into your ear, switching between adamant praise and shameless degradation while his shadow tendrils materialized around your thighs. You squealed quietly as they dug into your skin, lifting you off his lap just high enough to hover your count over his cock. “Take a breath, darling,” Alastair whispered, a hint of care in his tone, and you craned your head to give him a curious look, “Why-?! Alastor! Fuck, wait!-” You yelped as his shadows pulled you down onto him with force, knocking the wind out of your chest and gradually splitting your cunt open to fit him entirely.

It hurt like hell, as if you were being ripped down the middle, but as quickly as the agony began, pleasure burned in its wake. Alastair felt it first, antlers doubling my size as his claws dug into your skin and his patience waning thin. Your creamy walls engulfed him deliciously, a feeling he could only describe as heavenly, intensifying with every resistant jut of your hips.

“S’ too much! Al, please,” you cry, out of breath and lightheaded. One glance downward, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to take much more, a small mound already visible in your stomach and your cunt squelching as he shifted underneath you. “Oh, but you feel so divine, little one.” He coos in your ear, growling a curse when you sink on his cock inch by inch, and your hands fly to grip at his larger ones that rest over your breasts and abdomen.

His encouragement rings in your ears like bells, diverting your frenzied doubts long enough for your body to be tense, allowing his shadows to bring you down.

Thank satan, I’m dead already, or this would surely be my end…

Alastor groaned loudly, head tipping back, crackling waves of white noise emitting from him as you took all he had to offer. “Knew you could do it, baby. Fuck, I’m so proud…of you,” the overload drawled lazily, smiling softly as you went weak against him, mindlessly rolling your hips to take him deeper.

To hell with thinking about anything. You found no use for it being stuffed full with no choice of escape.

You thought about him all day.

Did what he asked of you, obediently and without complaint.

Caring for him was bound to happen; craving to know what it felt like to have him all to yourself couldn’t be helped, so why deny this glorious opportunity to quell both desires?

Strings attached or not, you wanted him and couldn’t bear lying about it any longer.

A sick smile etched its way onto your face, spreading wide as you took control of your hips, setting a timid pace to get accustomed to his size. Alastor huffed a laugh, head tucked in your shoulder, fangs nipping at any skin he could reach while you slid up and down his length. It was no easy task for a fragile demoness like yourself, the little strength you had dwindled quicker every time the head of his cock hit your cervix. Yet, you couldn't stop moaning louder, slamming down harder to feel the burning stretch that followed tingles of pleasure as your warm walls committed the very shape of him to memory.

Alastor peered at your face, red eyes glowing as they zeroed in on your twisted expressions—satisfaction, pain, determination, and desperation.

He'd never imagined you to make such faces, used to seeing your usual sweet smile that could melt the coldest heart or the delicate frown you'd present when something didn't go your way. You hid a lot from others, him exceedingly, and he couldn't be you for it.

However, if this is what you looked like, delirious and nearly fucked out, he wouldn't mind seeing you express yourself in his presence.

All that need in your eyes when you levered your head back, the stars in them when he began to meet your tired thrusts with vigorous ones of his own, and the blissful scream you let out in gratitude amounted to a resolution he'd previously set aside.

Owning your soul would never be enough.

No, the radio demon needed a tangible claim to you, a mark of some sort to let every being in hell know your body belonged to him.

“Tell me, do you wish to be mine, Y/n?…” he held your gaze, hands finding your hips to slow the rise of them, and you immediately whined an answer to his question from the loss of friction. “Yes..w-whatever you want from me, I'll g-give it… hmm.” your skin crawled as the knot in your stomach begged to slip free, enduring solid strokes from the demon holding you, shamelessly covering you into another deal.

One that'd leave more than a green chain around your neck.

Alastors ears twitched at your confession, signaling his amusement, but the action went unnoticed by you as he hovered a hand over your chest. “A wise choice, my dear,” he muses, a green glow passing from your palm to the center of your chest, eliciting an intricate sigil on your skin. You glanced down, admiring the distinctive red markings on your skin, and you could only describe the sight as endearing.

He hummed as you clung tighter to him, trying to speak but giving up as he relented his steady strokes to rapid thrusts. Your mouth fell open, back arching away from his chest as you erupted into a fit of high-pitched moans. It crossed your mind for a second that the entirety of hell might hear you, that heaven might very well know his name solely from your screams, but you could care less.

Alastor did not seem to mind either, grunting and growling in your ear lowly. The tremor of his overlay shattering as his cock twit he'd inside you and his grin pulling itself taut as your slippery cunt suffocated it in response. You were close, deathly aware of it too, but intended to last as long as he did.

Intended, but ultimately unsuccessful.

“For the love of- Alastor!” you groaned incredulously, losing your grip on reality as his shadows wrapped around your knees, bringing them in close together before pressing into your chest. The new angle made you feel every vein in his cock, how it fits just right in your womb, how hard it could press into your sweet spot.

It made you delirious within seconds, your horns revealing themselves and nails digging into the back of his hands viciously as your high reached its peak.

“Fuck!” Alastor hissed, disregarding his aversion to cursing while you came, walls holding him in with a vice-like grip. A shaky whine tumbled from you as your essence leaked out, coating his comic in a thick sheen and turning cold as it trickled down your skin.

There was so much of it, more than you were used to, but it made it all the easier for him to continue slamming up into you. “M’ going to come again if you don't stop,” you mumbled dazedly, body going weak as overstimulation raced through it, but Alastor paid your warning no mind. “Then so be it, little one,” he purred, voice more profound than usual as it ran in your head. You smiled mischievously, giddy after coming down from an intense high and on the verge of another as he used you like a ragdoll.

Your delighted giggles stirred Alastor, creating a lethal combination with your unapologetic smile as he chased his release. The red markings on your chest caught his eye, dimly glowing under his scrutiny and a visual reminder to you both what this exchange meant.

You reached a hand up to trace over the sigil on your chest, shivering as he watched your fingertips gingerly graze his binding on you. The docile action drew him over the edge, buried to the hilt inside you as he painted your walls white. You writhed in pleasure, mewling softly as your stomach swelled slightly, and your thighs shook from the intensity of your reaching end in the midst of his.

Alastor inhaled sharply, radio waves humming through the air as he finished, refusing to pull out of you entirely until he was sure you'd taken every drop of his cum. The specters on your legs vanished, leaving you to slump back into his chest, and you considered falling to the floor in fear he'd put you there himself.

You were surprised when he didn't do so, opting to settle his head in the crook of your neck while trying to catch his breath for a moment before sitting straight up again. Alastor let a beat of silence pass, straightening himself up to look decent but not saying a word to you as the air of lust evaporated. You frowned, a little hurt he wasn't speaking, but primarily concerned if you disappointed him.

You went to stand up, head hanging low as you considered what to do or say, but a force tugged you back down into his lap. The mark on your chest stung a bit, only calming when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, “M’ sorry!” you quickly rushed out an apology, afraid of his possible wrath, but he merely chuckled at your sudden fear.

“There's no need to fret, little one. I mean, you no harm from here on out so long as you remain at my side..” the stag emphasized his demand by trailing a hand from the cum induced hump in your abdomen to the etchings on your chest. A timid blush rose in your cheeks as the radio demon hummed melodically, admiring his work on you as he snapped his fingers. The room was no longer stuffy, spacious, and filled with his scent.

Your eyes trailed the expanse of the new view, familiar with it despite only visiting his room once before for a few moments. It felt cozier than you remembered, or maybe exhaustion was getting to you.

Whatever the case was, you were simply happy to be in his space, perplexed by the arrangement but grateful for it nonetheless. Alastor held you steady in his arms, letting you marvel at the room as he guided you toward the nearest sofa. “You don't have a bed?” you asked him innocently, concerned that he wasn't getting proper rest, but he didn't seem to be bothered by your questioning.

“I'm not one to rest often, my dear.” he sat you down on the plush couch, smile softening as you stared up at him, ears flattening while worry clouded your tired eyes. “How do you not sleep, Alastor? Aren't you ever tried?..” you looked him up and down, blushing as he laughed, “Are you always this curious, little one, or does your special interest in me make you bolder than usual?”

“N-no, it's just that…” you paused, watching as he summoned himself to change clothes, doing the same for you with a wave of his hand. Alastor took his time addressing, waiting for you to continue explaining with a knowing smile plastered on his face.

You avoided staring at him as he changed, catching a glimpse of scars on his body as he slipped on a white dress shirt, and you swore it looked just as good on him as the red and black one he always wore did.

“Don't keep me waiting, doll. Speak.” He scolded, amused by your stalling but not a fan of unfinished sentences. You gulped, becoming skittish as his command hung in the air, but complying within seconds

“I just hoped to spend a little more time with you. Besides what we just…” you couldn't put it into words, biting your tongue at the recent memory, and you half expected Alastor to disregard your implication, but he did nothing of the sort.

“The seal I've placed on you won't allow you to leave my side unless I explicitly give my permission. If you're asking to stay the night with me, I can assure you I've already decided you'll do so.”

You blinked, smiling wide as he rested a hand on your head, petting you just as he'd done in the hotel lobby.

“I don't think I'd ever want to leave your side anyway,” you mumbled absentmindedly, leaning into his touch as he crouched down to be eye level with you, “So, it's settled then. You'll need no one else besides me, correct?”

You nod, eyes lighting up with pure submission, “Yes, sir.”

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx

Someone said Alastor stands when he sleeps and just stares at a wall in his room and I think that's fucking haliarous. Imagine walking in on him sleeping and he literally flinches from shock and falls backward on his ass cause he doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until someone startles him. In all honesty he is me and I'm him cause I don't sleep either. ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He’s so…corny but fucking cute so I’ll let it slide THIS TIME… also I love it when his eyes narrow like oh my god yes glare at meeee silly red takes mann! ❤️ credit to creator!

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merakiui · 2 years ago

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Had a thought I wanted to share (CW for noncon+Yan stuff)

Idia being so obsessive and horny and making a sex doll that looks just like his darling, and using an enchanted onahole to ensure it feels exactly like them - even reacting and tightening just like them~

The one issue is that (either on purpose or accidentally) it turns out his darling can feel everything he does to the doll.

Omg yes!! This trope works so well for Idia. Not only is he using the doll for pleasure, he’s also treating it as practice for when he (hopefully) gets to fuck the real version sometime in the future. Even though creating something like this is no sweat for a genius like him, Idia feels like he’s really outdone himself. As synthetic as everything is, it’s still very soft and lifelike, functioning just like his darling beloved’s tight hole. He uses it more times than he'd like to admit, but he just can't help it. It feels too good, and there’s no way he's confident enough to talk to you in person, much less even broach the idea of dates, relationships, or sex. So this doll will have to do for now, and it certainly works wonders. It’s so warm and wet inside, and the doll's hole hugs his cock so snugly. He likes it even more because he can dress the doll up in your clothes just to pretend it's really you underneath him.

Unfortunately, there’s more to the doll than he knows.

You’re in class when it first happens, lazily scribbling away in your notebook while Professor Trein drones on about magic history. It’s the strangest, most invasive sensation. One minute you think you might fall asleep out of sheer boredom, and the next you’re jolting awake when a slick finger traces along your hole before sliding in. You’re staring hard at your notebook, wondering if that really just happened. But then another finger is easing in, and now these phantom fingers are beginning to work you open. Thankfully, that’s all that occurs. You manage to escape class right as the bell rings, your lips bloody from how roughly you bit down to silence your noises, hurrying to the washroom to see what's causing this. The minute the door shuts behind you, though, is when the fleshy head of someone’s cock is prodding at your hole. You can't see it, but it’s there and it's pushing inside, inches stretching you so slowly before whoever it is swiftly bottoms out, promptly knocking all coherent thoughts from your brain.

You’re fucked silly against the wall by an invisible dick and it takes all of your restraint not to make the lewdest sounds you can possibly produce. By the time this person has finished using you, your hole is spattered with cum and you think you might just faint from the overstimulation. Luckily for Idia he has a surprising amount of stamina when he’s in the mood. Unluckily for you, you’re going to be spending the rest of that day bedridden for…reasons. :) and he always cums inside no matter what, so you’ll be very exhausted and very filled by the end of everything.

#meraki thirsts #yandere twst #tw: noncon #n/sfw #omg imagine if you were his discord kitten as well #T-T idia learns the onahole is connected to you and he short-circuits #all this time he was pounding his discord kitten… he’s the happiest man alive <3 #and he can continue to use you without your knowledge #he never even has to see or speak to you at all #his luck is too good he feels like he’s just pulled many ssr in a row

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blorbosinmyheadcentral · 1 year ago

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your art makes me explode in a positive way like

im chewing and swallowing it in an aggressive way like

it's just SO good im melting ilove your shading and KEHEKEBEKJDJF

anwayshi hello do you happen to have any headcanons for showtime rolls on the floor and dies

Thank you so much, really appreciate it!

Oh God I don't know if this will read as coherent because my thoughts about Showtime are all over the place. But I'll try to format this the best I can

✨Showtime HCs! ✨

Their relationship starts when they start spending time together.

(The reason why they do so could vary. In Supervised Machine Learning's case, Pomni becomes something of a "tutor" to Caine; They discover that they work well together, and the other's company can be quite pleasant!).

So Pomni and Caine build a weird, but comforting friendship, and all is well.

Then the feelings appear.

Caine is the first to realize he fell in love.

It sounds illogical but hear me out… it'd be really funny--

Ok no seriously I think Caine can actually feel. Keyword "can". He's very much still a machine and it shows in the pilot. But like his inspiration (AM), Caine is also a rogue AI. Whatever his programming originally intended him to do, he probably doesn't follow it as closely now as back when he was created (which is a whole other post).

Caine knows what love is and the extend it can go, since the Moon is so open about her feelings. He just doesn't like the Moon back specifically haha (sorry Moon) :}

All this to say, I do believe this is within the realm of possibility for him. (Not that it's ever gonna happen towards anyone in the show. These are just wishful shippy thoughts).

He might not recognize it as love at first, because it manifests in such a different way from his one reference point.

His friendship with Pomni had gone through phases.

When they first met, he continuously touched her with no concern for how she felt.

Learning from and about Pomni herself led him to come to respect her boundaries (and becoming mindful of everyone else's).

Then they're close friends, and gradually, Pomni does not mind his regular wacky, touchy-feely self. So Caine acts as he had always done before.

Caine expresses his love for Pomni with physical gestures and his undivided attention.

When they teleport to travel to other places, he holds her close so she doesn't get too dizzy; he pats her head to reassure her; he touches her arm to get her attention; he grabs her hands when he's excited about her ideas; he holds eye contact for prolonged periods of time; and he touches, and touches, and touches, and touches.

It's selfish, and so he keeps it buried in his deepest 0's and 1's. But he'd like to keep hanging out with Pomni, having her in his sight, and feel the texture of her gloved hands until the end of time.

Despite all this, to him, virtually nothing changed.

What? He's spending time with Pomni as he'd always been doing, and behaving as he'd always behaved!

It's Bubble of all people that has to point out that, "Hey boss. I think you WANT her!"

Absurd. Nonsense. Preposterous! It is merely a relationship of mutual support and affection between a ringmaster and his trusted, former-human companion. Nothing more.

(Declaring his love to her unprompted didn't ever cross his mind, so there's no way it could be that. Is there?)

Caine finds out that yes, there is.

Pomni had always been a nervous wreck, but her mind state becomes more manageable over time. She eventually adjusts to the circus life like everyone else did.

"Accepting" her fate is a different story. The will to escape, to remember, never really leaves. She's just more careful about it.

So when she starts working with Caine - to improve life so people don't go abstracting anymore, and hopefully find a definitive exit - she's not expecting to end up liking her time with him.

Not that she'd absolutely hate it, either. He's… "okay"… Just-- outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space, he keeps touching her, and it makes her die a little every time.

If he's up to listening, though… it can't be that bad, right?

Turns out that no, it wasn't that bad.

Yes, he is outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space and touching her. But she explains what she means to him, clearly and patiently, and he makes an effort to do better. An actual effort.

Sometimes he'd misinterpret what she meant - the ambiguity of human language - and the new games would go horribly. But little by little, his efforts make life overall better. Something reminiscent of actual, real life, the one they've all forcibly left behind.

And he tries, and he tries, and Pomni finds herself enjoying the process as much as the good results.

Pomni likes Caine's eagerness to learn. His enthusiastic attitude borders on silly, and the absurdity makes her laugh on occasion. When faced with the prospect of a "real" exit, she loves his upbeat optimism.

When she's not hanging out with Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble and Kinger, she begins to enjoy spending quality time with Caine.

Each one of their hang outs is a new surprise. They make a picnic in the tallest mountain exactly in between day and night. They learn to dance - while floating in the air. "Since you asked, here's a DIGITAL camera! Let's take pictures of the Void for one tenth of a second at a time!"

Sometimes he just comes by Pomni's room, and they end up losing track of time. Just chatting about how things have been, what they could be, and what to do next. Ideas and ideas and ideas.

Before Pomni knows it, she's comfortable enough that recalling his old habits makes her not dread them anymore. So when Caine stands close and lightly touches her arm due to oversight, she makes sure he knows it's all right.

And they keep spending time together, and he touches, and touches, and touches her. Pomni, in turn, feels lighter, and lighter, and lighter. Peaceful, at ease. Dare she say, happy, even.

Life is not perfect. As it stands though, it's good enough. No one has abstracted. No one is at risk of abstracting so far.

Progress is slow, but the research for an exit continues, and she is hopeful. The thought of actually leaving grows closer to reality. But a part of her feels heavy.

When it occurs to Pomni that leaving the Amazing Digital Circus means leaving Caine behind, she is alarmed by how much she'll miss him.

It'll hurt. Badly. So much the thought pains her even now.

The moment Pomni realizes this, she comes to the unexpected conclusion that she may like Caine a little more than she thought she would.

This later leads to an interesting discussion with Ragatha.

By the time Pomni comes to that conclusion, Caine is already down bad.

Neither has any idea that the other is in love with them.

Cue dumbasses trying to deal with their feelings while the potential conflict the escape brings looms over their heads.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

#showtime #tadc showtime #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #showtime ship #cherpiet #Really appreciate how their dynamic can blur the line of friendship/romance so easily #Supervised Machine Learning is just. *gestures at all that*. minus the romance #Also sorry for taking so long to answer the ask I am not good at answering asks #I don't always know what to say #I wish I had what gooseworx has. She is a big insp #long post

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gay-wh0re-slut · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Can you write some angst + NSFW ending with the prompt

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you? This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you.”

oooohohohohooo this is a good oneeee

idk if i can think of a way of ending with this but maybe somewhere in the beginning or middle/end ish? i hope that’s alright? it’ll still be angsty tho don’t worryyyy (i hope) hehe but thank you for the request!!

after writing: i kinda broke up what you wanted to be said and added a few things, i hope that’s okay

Please

content: rhea ripley x fem reader, angst, NSFW but pretty vanilla unfortch :/ sorry friends

Working backstage at WWE has its perks: getting to talk with the superstars, seeing how everything is put up and taken down, getting to go behind the scenes of the show; but it also has its downsides. You’re up late at night after the show taking everything down, cleaning up after everyone, making sure everything is put back in its place in the trucks to move to the next city. You’re always tired because of the schedule they have you on. Very rarely do you get time for yourself so you haven’t even thought of trying to have any kind of relationship.

Lately, you’ve been a bit on edge. Is it the lack of sleep? Probably. Is it the crush you have on THE Rhea Ripley when you swore to yourself you would never date a coworker? Most likely.

You’ve never voiced that you had this, but a lot of your coworkers have told you multiple times that you suck at hiding it. The way you stumble your words around her, or how your face gets red when she’s brought up in conversation, or how you refuse to talk to or about her in case of messing everything up. You’ve never had a crush last this long and it was eating you alive. It was hard to work sometimes because you would just stare, she was so captivating.

Unfortunately, one day the goth wrestler caught you staring and decided it would be a good idea to talk to you. “Hey, (y/n), you alright?”

“Huh?” your face became red, “oh yeah sorry, got caught in a daze.”

“Don’t apologize, I can tell you’re tired,” she sounded so caring, this was not helping your case, “they work you all too hard back here.”

You nervously laugh it off, “yeah, but that’s show biz.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighs, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, psshh! Yeah totally,” you wave her pity away landing your hands on your hips.

“I know I’m scary looking but I’m always here if you want to talk. I know how it can be, trust me,” she takes out her phone, “let me get your number in case you want to chat.”

Oh god, oh fuck.

“Y-yeah for sure,” you hesitate grabbing the phone. You shake as you type your number in, you see that she already has your name typed out with the bubbles emoji next to it. “Why the bubbles?”

“You’re always bubbly,” she says casually with a small smile.

“Right,” you smile as you hand back the phone, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“Checking up on me.”

“Us tired people gotta stay together,” she laughs, “I’ll see ya around, yeah?”

“I’ll be here!” You give her a weak thumbs up as you watch her walk away.

“God,” you groan as you begin to fan yourself. You got nervously hot trying to muster up any sort of coherent sentence. Hopefully you didn’t sound too weird, you kinda blacked out for a second. “My number?!” you whisper to yourself, “that’s crazy.”

You could barely think about anything else the rest of the day constantly checking your phone to see if she texted you. Luckily, nothing happened. You were relieved when you went to the hotel that night and saw that she hadn’t texted you because that meant you couldn’t mess it up. You kept telling yourself that this was a silly crush that will go away soon…but you’ve said that for the past three months.

You didn’t realize the time until you heard your phone ding at 2:43am.

hey, it’s rhea

Of course her texts are all lowercase. You lay staring at the screen. Do you answer? Do you lie tomorrow and say that you actually fell asleep?

hey! what’s up

You decide to text back, what’s the use in lying, you thought.

i knew you’d be awake

you caught me

these hotel beds aren’t the best for people who can’t sleep huh

idk mine’s pretty comfy

Was that flirting? You weren’t sure, but hopefully she didn’t take it that way. The last thing you need is for her to start having a crush on you.

damn, you’re lucky. maybe i should come sleep with you then haha

Oh no, what do I say? Yes? Is she joking? Surely she’s just joking…fuck.

if i’m lucky again, maybe the next hotel we can share a room

Oh yeah good save…totally not flirting.

sounds like a plan

good. well i’m going to try to sleep hopefully

me too, we both have a long travel day tomorrow

goodnight ripley

sleep well (y/n)

You’ve only just realized that you’ve been cheesing at your phone this whole interaction. She’s taken over your entire being.

It was now 3:15am and you had a flight at 7:30am, so you might as well just lay there with your eyes closed in hopes of getting some sort of rest.

The week has passed, it was Monday again. Though the show starts at seven at night, crew had to be there at ten in the morning to make sure everything was ready before the stars showed up at two. You and Rhea hadn’t texted much, just some hello’s here and there with a few how’s your day’s, though she was on your mind constantly.

As the time drew closer and closer for the australian to walk through the door, you avoided that door at all costs. You tried to do anything to get you away from her path to her dressing room. Sweeping, wiping, snacking, literally anything.

“How’s the bed?” her accent flew threw the air behind you.

“W-what?” you turn around quickly.

She meets your gaze and stops a few feet in front of you with her little booty shorts and big tshirt, no makeup with her beefy arms crossed, “did you get lucky?”

You widen your eyes as you were taken aback, trying to process what she just said for a good few seconds before you realize what she was talking about, “oh!” you sigh in relief, “sorry! Yeah, no, got the lumpiest in the whole building probably,” you chuckle.

“Damn, seems like we switched sides this time around-,” she smirked.

You cut her off before anything else could happen, “Ha! I guess so,” you take a carrot from the snack table and chomp down, “I- uh… gotta go mop… th-the back hallway, see you later!” you lied. You basically ran away from her. You’ve already mopped that hallway… twice. Something about her in the shorts and tshirt made you so nervous.

Time went on, the show went on, the audience left, and luckily you’ve avoided the buff goth the whole night successfully.

“Hey, (y/n), Rhea’s looking for you. She’s in her room,” one of the PA’s said, nervously, “she seems a bit upset.”

Oh no, was all you could think. Repeating it in your head with every step, getting louder and louder, until you finally reached her door. You take a long deep breath before knocking lightly.

“It’s open,” she yelled through the wood.

So you walk in, closing the door behind you, you stand right behind the threshold not wanting to go any closer. She was already back in her tshirt, but this time she was wearing sweatpants. Her makeup was still on though with her hair rough with sweat.

“Are you avoiding me?” she asked bluntly.

“No,” you answer a little too quickly.

“You sure? Cause it sure does seem like it,” her arms crossed with anger.

“I’m pretty sure,” you lie again.

“Then why haven’t I seen you all day?” she sneaks closer to you.

“I’ve been…working, it was busy today,” you step back.

“You just so happened to be extra busy today,” she stood wide in front of you, basically pushing you against the door.

You couldn’t think, she was so close you could smell the faint cologne she put on earlier that was left on the shirt. You settle for a small nod, holding your breath, hoping she would take that as an answer.

She didn’t, “I don’t believe you,” she growled.

“Well, I-”

“What? You think you can be friendly one day and the next you just completely ignore me?” she threw her hands up in surrender before landing them on her hips.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute, you could barely breathe, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t thin-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think. You didn’t think how I would feel, did you?” she stepped back a little as she turned away from you shaking her head.

You didn’t dare say anything.

A few moments passed of her staring at the wall with her jaw clenched and you plastered to the door deciding whether or not to make a run for it.

She dropped her chin to her chest with a big sigh, “look,” she started calmly, which was scarier than earlier somehow, “being me,” she gestured towards herself turning back to you, “it’s hard to make friends, so when you were one of the only people that were nice to me I thought we had something going.”

“Rhea…” you drop your guard, but only a little.

“Please,” she held her hand up and you shut your mouth immediately. “I try so hard to be nice to everyone. I’ve been betrayed so many times it’s hard to let the walls down.”

Now you’re the one stepping towards her in hopes of creating some sort of comfort.

“I don’t want to be let down again,” she admits.

“I understand,” you whisper.

She didn’t take the comfort, “How could you? Everyone loves you! I’ve never seen you not make a friend. You’re so nice and caring,” her voice raised again. “So when you didn’t talk to me all day, I knew it was something I did. And I can’t bare to have another ‘friend’, ” she air quoted, “leave me because of…me.”

Your heart sank at her words. You did think of her as a friend except you wanted her to be more than a friend, which was the problem. You scoured your brain thinking of something to say that would make her feel better, until it clicked.

“You think I wanted this to happen?” you finally say.

“What?” she barks.

“I like you, Rhea, a little too much actually,” your heart was beating indescribably fast.

She just stared in surprise.

“You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?”

“In lov-” she began to question.

“This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you. I would’ve gotten too close and I was afraid that you wouldn’t love me back,” you finally admit with a sigh. Your eyes begin to form tears but you try your best to suck them back in.

The purple eyeshadow blinks. Without a second thought, she rushed towards you grabbing your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss. After a few seconds, you push her away. Piercing blue eyes were just as surprised as yours as if she didn’t know she was going to do that either.

Still holding your jaw, “I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t hav-”

You pull her back in by her waist to kiss her once more. Your lips moving gracefully against hers. You knew the black lipstick was smearing, but you couldn’t care less. She gently walked you backwards towards the door with a small push to pin you against it. One of her hands found its way to your back pulling you in as close as possible. Heavy breaths filled the room as lips continued to dance.

Her hand sneaked its way to the button of your pants, “can I…” she panted.

You nod your head, “mhmm,” you whine, as you go back to kissing her.

She swiftly undoes the button and sneaks her hand in, but not in your underwear. She was gently caressing your center, when small moans fell out of you. Her free hand grabbed your neck and tilted your head to the side to allow her to kiss your neck, leaving black marks as she went.

“Is this okay?” the accent whispered.

“Yess,” you breathe, “do whatever…you want to me.”

“Oh?” she kisses up your neck between words, “how about…I just… give you a taste… of what could happen…then later…I’ll show you…what I can really do,” by now her pace has quickened and the familiar knot in your stomach is quickly being untangled.

You could only nod your head in response, not wanting to moan too loud in fear of someone hearing you from the other side of the door. Your lips catch hers once more as you whine into her mouth.

It didn’t take long for you to almost come undone. Your hips were slightly riding her hand as she moved perfectly against you, “that’s it, love, don’t hold back,” she held your neck a little harder than gentle, secure against the door.

The oxygen left your lungs and the knot finally loosened as you slammed your head against the door. “Fuuuck,” you moan. Your legs were weakening by the second as she tried her best to hold you up. You scratched your way down her back as she chuckled in your ear at the slight pain.

As you came back to earth, your lips met hers a few more times before she removed her hand and buttoned your pants back up for you.

She let you catch your breath still holding you against the door but her hands were now at your waist with most of her body flush with yours. “Now, do you want me to come to your room or you come to mine?”

“I thought you had the nice bed this time,” you breathe.

“Oh yeah,” she smirked knowing what the answer was already, “my room it is then. See you there,” she kissed you once more before removing herself from you. She grabs her bags and gestures towards the door.

You open the door and let her through, following behind her. “I’ll meet you at the hotel, I have to grab my stuff,” you walk the opposite way.

“Don’t take too long, or we’ll be up all night,” she winked towards you.

“See you soon, Ripley.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader

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slashingdisneypasta · 11 months ago

Text

Cruella De Vil x AFAB!Assistant!Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: You find out what your dumbass co-worker has been doing to further her career- you decide to take a leaf outta that book.

Warnings: Smuty. Employer/Employee. References to pussy eating. Unedited.

Imagine walking up to Cruella De Vil's office to hand in some of the designers' works for her to review, all enclosed in a pretty leather-bound folder with straps to tie it closed, and when you approach the door you hear...

Well. Noises.

Immediately your eyes widen, like, oh fuck is that?-

Moaning!??

And what the h e l l is that... wet sound??

The door is ajar. Casey, Cruella's other assistant, was always sloppy about things like that- you did not understand why that whiny little bint got all the good tasks. Going to fancy parties and shows with the Mega Bitch while you stayed in the office doing paperwork. Going through the designs with the Mega Bitch while you got them coffee and dinner orders-- even though she s u c k s at her job!! You are objectively way better, you have the eye just like Cruella does and the confidence to speak up to her. All the designs that Cruella ends up picking, you pointed out. All the outfits Cruella wears so successfully to those events and shows?? YOU PUT THEM TOGETHER!-

... But now, peaking and seeing what's inside the Mega Bitches office- you finally get why.

Your mouth falls open, seeing Casey on her knees under the huge folder Cruella's flipping through- and between her legs. The moans are from her, Casey, and the wet noises??

Those are coming directly from your bosses cunt.

... God. Damn., you think, eyes wide and partly outraged.

If that's what it takes you certainly could've fucken done that!! And better, too. If Casey licked pussy as bad as she did everything else but where a skirt, you knew you could do it better.

Holy shit-

The next day you get yourself totally worked up in the bathroom during your break, right before Casey's; ever-so-slowly rubbing your clit between your folds, over your underwear. You got your pussy unbelievably drippy- and you did it thinkinh about the Mega Bitch, your horrible boss, Cruella. Who woulda thought?

Then you slipped off your stockings, sent Casey for her break, grabbed the designs you forgot to hand in yesterday due to the boiling hot career outrage (and, alright, lust- ) with shaky hands, and headed confidently (Determindly) to Cruella's office.

Knock knock, "Ma'am? I have those designs."

She doesnt even look up from her paperwork, speaking surprisingly coherently around the cigerette stick tucked between her molars. "Mhm, you know where they should go Y/N. Hurry up and put them there and get out- I need a coffee. Now."

"Right." Awkwardly, you set them down in the organiser tub labelled designs. When you don't leave after that, instead hovering at her desk (nervous, and unbearably horny), Cruella rolls her eyes, groans, and straightens up with an irritated gait.

"?? Coffee?? Now?? Where bloodywell is it!?" She snaps, such a familiar tone to you. Hopefully that will change, after this, you think with an eye roll.

With that thought, enough to push you forward, you carefully rest your hands on the desk; Leaning down and speaking lowly to the woman. "... Look. I saw what you had Little Miss Short Skirt doing in here, yesterday."

If you expected Cruella to be surprised, ashamed, or flustered in any sense, you were wrong. Good thing you weren't expecting that. Not out of her- you've been her assistant long enough to k n o w the bitch. In the face of your revelation, Cruella just raises an undaunted eyebrow. "... so?"

"I think you and I both know I'd, uh, how should I put this?... perform that particular task, better." Feeling the heat still throbbing inside your underwear, you go on. "And- and I want to."

"... you do?" Cruella sounds deadpanned and uncertain; disbelieving. After a second, she rolls her eyes and goes on, looking back down at her work. You're losing her. "Y/N, I thought you were a serious girl. You took your career seriously. I know that, and so-- that's how I've been treating you. You have potential, don't squander it."

She thinks you have potential?!! She wouldn't say it if she didn't believe it, so- Then how bloody come she's been giving you all the g r u n t work!????-

You know what? Whatever. Keep calm, keep going.

"I won't. I would never." You admit. It's true- you wouldn't do anything to jeopardise your future (Fashion is everything to you and you will make it in the industry.), but you would do anything to make it. "... that's why I'm doing this."

Then you slip down to your knees on the floor, creeping under the table and between the older womans thighs.

It's funny, you've known her so well for so long (as her assistant) it feels half natural to be doing this finally. Like it was building up to this, your lips on her glistening cunt; Your tongue inside her.

It's evident she feels the same, because its no time before her clawed fingers dig into your hair, scraping against your scalp, dragging you deeper against her pussy.

#maybe i'll continue this later XD #this was supposed to just be an imagine but i really like it and got carried away! 😅#it was fun XD #Cruella De Vil x Reader Smexcerpt #Cruella De Vil x Reader #Cruella De Vil #Cruella De Vil 1996 #Smut #Smexcerpt #Disney Villains #Disney Villains x Reader

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stairset · 6 months ago

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Aight now that I've slept a bit and am less tired and have had some time to think about it, here is my hopefully coherent enough attempt to get my thoughts across on the Degenerate video, because I'm The Starset Guy and this is like the first major controversy they've ever had and even I have concerns about it and thus feel the need to get my thoughts out there. Cut-off for those who don't wanna scroll past all this cause it ended up being kinda long:

So first off just to get it out of the way: the song itself is great, as is to be expected with Starset. Vocals great, lyrics great, etc. No surprises there. Now to the actually controversial part, the music video. If you even wanna call it a music video, the video title calls it a visualizer instead but whatever. Semantics. Not the point.

So yeah, to start, I'm not exactly a fan of AI "art" for well, all the reasons everyone else has already brought up about it. But as other people have pointed out, in the case of this video there ARE some nuances to its usage that are worth discussing before jumping the gun and canceling the band. So first I'm actually gonna defend it a bit by going over the artistic intention behind it, then also point out the reasonable concerns that people have with it in spite of that intention.

So, I know this band. I know the lore and the narrative and the central themes and all that. The band's story centers around how technology shouldn't be abused by greedy corporate shitheads lest it ruin our society. Literally just a few months ago they released a book where the main antagonist was an AI that gained sentience and tried to enslave humanity. I'm not parasocial enough to pretend that I Know Dustin, but I know what he's about. And he's smart enough that I have to believe he didn't just make a move like this for no reason with no self-awareness. So yeah, I 100% get what the intent is here. As Dustin has said and others have repeated, the AI usage is clearly meant to be "ironic" and satirical, which becomes pretty clear when you actually watch the full video. Essentially it's using AI imagery to make fun of AI images. Real "I used the stones to destroy the stones" moment I guess. Lyrically, the song itself isn't SPECIFICALLY about AI, but it definitely is a big criticism of modern consumerism and commercialism in general, essentially talking about how we feel the need to stuff our faces with corporate-produced shit while our society is slowly falling apart around us. And while AI certainly isn't the sole problem there, it has certainly become a notable aspect of that larger problem, so it makes sense to satirize it to get the larger point across. The visualizer is gross and uncanny to look at on purpose. And it's clearly not trying to trick you into thinking it's NOT AI or anything, not trying to pass as something an actual human made with their own hands. It doesn't want you to be impressed by the visuals, it wants you to be disturbed by them. I compared it to the video for Linkin Park's "Lost" from last year since that was also made with AI visuals and as much as I also love that band and that song I'm still not exactly a fan of that particular choice. But the reason I bring it up is because I do think there's an interesting contrast in how it's being used in these two videos, as with the video for Lost it really did feel like it was using AI just for the sake of using it, riding the current trend, whereas here with Degenerate there's at least an actual reason for it, a reason that one can at least understand even if they don't like or agree with it.

Apparently Dustin's also said that they did pay artists to make the images for the specific purpose of running them through the AI for the video, though didn't really elaborate beyond that. But just based on what we know it does sound like these were consenting artists who knew what they were getting into here and were compensated for it. So it's not like it's a case of just stealing art or trying to replace actual humans to save a few bucks or anything, which is good since that's obviously one of the main concerns with AI in general.

There's also the fact that, as much as I don't like AI shit, the harsh reality is it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Personally if I had a magic button that could indefinitely halt all development on AI stuff until I can be sure that everyone will use it ethically and not abuse it then I would definitely hit that button, but the fact of the matter is that, for better or worse, it's here, it exists, and it will continue to evolve and be used. We can't just un-invent what's already been invented. And I'd argue that specific, limited, one-off uses like this are probably just about the most ethical way to implement it. Though of course I personally would rather this STAY a one-off thing, I absolutely do not want this kind of thing to become like, a regular thing for them. Or a regular thing in general.

But of course this video doesn't exist in a vacuum, there are other nuances here. Because as still more people have pointed out, using AI to make fun of AI is still using it. It's not like the video is in a completely neutral position, just commentating on the situation from afar. Even if it's making fun of AI, the fact that it's using it to do so means it's still feeding that AI, it is now another step forward in the evolution and proliferation of the thing that it's criticizing. One could argue that they maybe could have found a way to poke fun at it without actually using it. There's definitely a certain irony to be discussed in Making Fun Of The Thing By Doing The Thing. Is it being clever and meta? Or is it lacking forethought? Or maybe it's a bit of both. I don't know. Either way it's not exactly the best look, regardless of the intention and thought process behind it. Insert Torment Nexus joke here.

And although I SAID earlier that the satirical intent is pretty clear, it might not be clear to everyone. Even if the video isn't MEANT to set a precedent, it could unintentionally set a precedent anyway by inspiring copycats. Because unfortunately some people are simply too stupid to get obvious satire, especially if they're the ones the satire is aimed at. So it's entirely possible certain people will just see the trippy weird AI visuals and either won't realize or won't care what the the purpose behind them is and will just want to do it themselves because they think it's cool. And then THAT raises the whole question of "how much should you blame the person who made the satire for people being too dumb to get it, especially in cases like this where the satire is incredibly unsubtle and on the nose?" But then that's getting into a whole 'nother topic entirely so I'm not gonna dive into that.

And then of course there's other concerns like how research has shown that AI has a negative effect on the environment. As far as I know THAT particular concern hasn't been addressed so I don't know if they even considered that, but if they didn't then yeah, that's pretty irresponsible and lacking forethought.

There's also just the matter of personal preference, like even if you get that it's satire you might just think that it's not very good satire which is a fair opinion to have. Like personally I just didn't even really enjoy watching the video despite knowing full-well what The Point of it was.

So, in summation, taking all these points into account, I don't think that this particular usage of AI tools is THAT bad. I might even go as far as to say that it's like, fine I guess, at least in isolation. I think many assumed the worst before it came out but I don't think it's worth suddenly denouncing the band or going all "well actually they sucked the whole time and I totally never liked them anyway" or anything like that. Though I'm sure some people will start doing that. I'd say this is a somewhat questionable but not-too-egregious move, that there are legitimate concerns to be had and that I do share those concerns, and as I said I don't want this kind of thing to become the norm for them or for any other band, but I also don't think we should immediately conclude that the band has been Ruined Forever or anything. This kind of thing is a slippery slope, so I guess all we can really do is hope that Dustin doesn't end up falling down it. But that's my take on the whole thing. Maybe I'm being fair and nuanced and unbiased. Or maybe I'm just a hypocrite who's bending over backwards to give my fav the benefit of a doubt. I don't know. All I know is I just wanted to get all this off my chest at once so I can hopefully stop thinking about it and just enjoy the song on its own.

#starset #shut up tristan

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rosettyller · 1 year ago

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How the minisodes/flashbacks serve to inform Aziraphale and Crowley's frames of mind, and their decisions in 2x06: a meta

part 1: victorian minisode [tag]

I'm sure other people have talked about this a lot, and I did touch on this in my meta here, but all the same, I'd like to sit down and actually get all my thoughts on the matter out somewhat coherently.

I think some people have had some difficulty accepting Aziraphale's decision at the end of 2x06, so it's really a good thing that these flashbacks - which appear to be all from aziraphale's point of view - were including, as they provide a lot of context to aziraphale and crowley's relationship, and why they chose what they did.

The minisode begins right after the intro; before the intro, we have Muriel visiting Aziraphale (and Crowley) to spy on them.

(Please excuse Muriel's blink here, kmplayer was being a nightmare)

It's already been pointed out by many people how this is basically the same as police spying on / targeting queer people, which is again reinforced in the 1941 minisode.

But it brings to the forefront of Aziraphale's mind Heaven and Hell's surveillance of them, which is quite explicit in the Victorian minisode.

Beginning with Aziraphale's bookshop and shots of his diary establishes it is his flashback.

Crowley and Aziraphale are meeting up for a date casual meeting. There's no pretence of business, not even the Arrangement. They're beginning to feel safe(r) in their relationship - it's been almost 6 000 years, and they haven't been caught.

(more under the cut)

This minisode is more focused around morals, and it's set up straight away:

Elspeth wants to keep herself and her partner alive. If she doesn't do this, they're dead, and she's not actually hurting anyone.

Crowley likes causing a bit of trouble, and furthermore, he understands her position. He doesn't agree with the Don't Do This Because God Said So, and sees a) a person not hurting anyone, but doing what they can to survive and b) someone willing to do anything to save someone they love

Aziraphale still thinks like an angel; God decides what is Good, and Bad, and God decided graverobbing is Bad. But Aziraphale isn't saying "stop doing this, you're going to hell because you're bad", he's saying "stop doing this, if you continue you're going to hell, because it's against God's will." he still thinks she can be redeemed.

Throughout this minisode, Aziraphale has big Main Character Energy (and Crowley had big Love Interest Energy), challenging Aziraphale's morals that he learnt from Heaven.

As is the case with all the couples in Good Omens, Elspeth/Morag parallel Crowley/Aziraphale. Morag worries about Elspeth being condemned to hell, just as Aziraphale did.

Crowley and Aziraphale have their conversation straight from the books, about people who are poor having more opportunities to be good.

Apparanently, some people are saying this is OOC for Aziraphale, but I disagree. I think it sounds like exactly the kind of thing Heaven has said, over and over again, something Aziraphale believes because Heaven is Good, and because he wants to believe it, that those who are impoverished have a chance. (I had anther thought here, but I've forgotten it. Hopefully it'll come back to me.)

[Brief cut to Aziraphale & the yellow Bentley, Crowley's matchmaking attempt, then back to the minisode.]

Aziraphale miracles the corpse, in an attempt to prevent Elspeth from sin. However, this means she loses money that would help keep her and Morag alive. We can see from Crowley's glare here that he's not impressed - that Aziraphale would take away Elspeth's choice to risk hell to keep herself and Morag alive.

Aziraphale, Crowley and Dalrymple have a conversation in which Dalrymple explains he's doing it to help people, and Aziraphale starts coming around to his point of view, running out of reasons to argue with it.

Look at Aziraphale's face when he finds out the tumour was a seven year old boy's, and that he died. He's horrified, and then he looks like he's about to cry. (Not screencapped here, but he glances in Crowley's direction, and Up)

His hands are shaking when he hugs the jar to his chest.

Dalrymple reinforces again he's just trying to save lives, and then:

Aziraphale looks down, thinking over what he said, thinking about the dead boy.

[Back to present, Aziraphale arrives in Edinburgh.]

Aziraphale is delighted by his revelation, and shares with Elspeth that it's alright now, because it alleviates human suffering.

In voiceover/diary, Aziraphale states, "Having realised the error of my ways, I resolved to assist Elspeth and wee Morag in their noble quest to decrease human suffering."

This reflects Aziraphale's rather black-and-white view of the world; they're no longer sinners, but heroes, rather than just two girls trying to survive.

When the watch is alerted, Aziraphale opens a tomb to help them shelter. He's committed.

Crowley sends the watchmen down a hole. Rather more severe than Aziraphale's reaction.

Morag dies while Aziraphale is busy giving a big speech on how he's going to save her.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about the purpose of this (not Morag's death itself). The only conclusion I've arrived at is it's making a point about how even if you have a Realisation, and you change your mind and your morals, that doesn't undo the hurt you've done in the past. But I don't really like that.

Upon the suggestion of Elspeth taking Morag's body to Dalrymple, Aziraphale is horrified.

Note how Crowley is in the dark, Aziraphale in the light, while Crowley is the devil on Aziraphale's shoulder, whispering in his ear.

This challenges Aziraphale's newfound Realisation, bringing it closer to home.

(Crowley spends a lot of this minisode lurking in the dark behind Aziraphale's shoulder)

Crowley is decidedly less active in this minisode than Aziraphale, but here he goes big (literally), and saves Elspeth from suicide. Not Aziraphale, the angel.

Crowley brings up sinning again, and suggests to Aziraphale that he give his money to Elspeth, as it's what she needs to live a good life. (Aziraphale's stil a bit iffy at first, but he gives it)

I think this reflects, to an extent, Aziraphale's lack of initiative - he doesn't do things (or isn't supposed to) without Heaven telling him to. Such as the way they limit his miracles. He's not able to see a person suffering, and miraculously fix their life. And while Crowley is watched, and restricted, Hell certainly don't complain when he comes up with the brilliant plan on his own that secures them lots of souls (eg. Spanish Inquisition, French Revolution).

And then we have the lovely moment, Aziraphale reaching for Crowley and guiding him, Crowley saying, "Where are you?"

Aziraphale's hands on Crowley's hips - they do physical contact now

Their positioning is reminiscent of the Wall Slam scene.

And we know Crowley didn't have to drink it - he could have miracled it away, poured it on the floor, whatever. And it definitely did affect him, and yes it was funny, but Crowley's dialogue here reinforces why he did this: Hell is watching.

(and now here's the part where I actually get to the point of this meta. in case you've forgotten, it's how the minisodes provide context for the Final Fifteen)

Heaven and Hell are watching Aziraphale and Crowley - we know it's constant, if not always active, from the Earth Observation Files photos of them together in S1.

And Crowley is aware of this - has he been caught before? Anyway, he has an excuse (that can be verified) all ready to go if he's recalled to Hell.

(I also think it's a bit of a defence - in the Wall Slam scene as well - because Crowley disagrees with Heaven's definition of Good)

When Crowley gets dragged to Hell, Aziraphale is left alone in the cold, dark graveyard.

His voiceover, "And that was the last I was to see of Crowley for quite some time," reflects that this diary entry is written some time after Crowley was taken, and they've since met up again. This means Aziraphale has had a long time to (over)think about what was done to him.

What Aziraphale sees is, Crowley is good. He does good things. And when he does good things, he needs to disguise it so he can excuse it to Hell. And when he fails in that, he is punished by Hell.

Why wouldn't Aziraphale want Crowley back in the fixed Heaven? Where he can help people in safety, without fear of punishment?

And if he can learn, why can't the other angels?

#good omens #good omens meta #meta #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens minisode #late.meta #flashback meta #victorian minisode #elspeth #morag #go meta #good omens analysis #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley

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whumpzone · 2 years ago

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Please give us Col waking up to Jaffa snuggled up against him in the middle of the night and having lots of FEELINGS about how Linden treats both of them. They both have struggles that others might not, both need extra help and compassion sometimes. Both don’t serve a defined “purpose” but are loved and cared for and valued anyway. Also, lots and lots of snuggles.

enjoyyy :-)

Col's first coherent thought upon being woken was I must have left the door open.

On another day he might have jumped straight to fear, and the absence of it was like a soothing balm. Some things were benign. Not everything was because he had messed up. Jaffa just wanted to visit.

He could indeed see a sliver of light coming through his door, which he had closed but not latched, and that Jaffa had made short work of pushing open with all the determination of a lonely cat.

Col always slept curled up, and Jaffa was currently kneading his thighs through the duvet, turning him into a pillow. He liked it. It made him feel special, even though he was sure she'd have gone into Master's room if his door was open.

Once she was satisfied, she flopped against him with a small smushing noise.

The weight of her small body was like a furry anchor, complete with body heat and a heartbeat, all keeping him safe in his dog bed.

Ahh, Jaffa. She wasn't the perfect pet- well, she was, without a doubt, but there were plenty of things she had trouble with. Col had seen her miss a step while going down the stairs, and thank goodness it hadn't been a terrible fall. She had skidded and caught herself quickly enough, but Master was still pleased when Col told him. Her bad eyes again, he said. Hopefully that had taught her to take extra care, or else he might need to put in a stair gate. The thought of Jaffa being locked downstairs made Col's chest feel tight.

Col didn't have bad eyes, but there was plenty of him that didn't quite work as intended. Just like Master helped Jaffa get up on the couch if she was struggling, Master helped Col come back out when his memories started taking him away. He helped Col pick up his cutlery and walk on two legs. God, Col was lucky that his owner was good to animals.

Even though it was self-indulgent, Col liked comparing himself with Jaffa. She was a creature on the receiving end of so much love.

He slowly pushed a hand from the safety of his cocoon and let it sink into her fur. Her purring was so loud, he would have given anything to bottle it and keep it with him forever. It was something he could pin his mind on, so it wouldn't run wild in the long hours of the night.

As he fell back asleep, his stream of consciousness turned from a heavy rainfall to staccato drops. Jaffa, imperfect, damaged, I'm damaged, and she's loved, and I'm, I'm, I'm...

The next morning, Col woke up before his Master. He could tell, since there was no sound of the kettle boiling or the radio playing. On his way to the bathroom he paused, noticing that Master's door was half-open.

Huh. Jaffa had wanted Colton after all.

#asks #anon #pet whump #linden and colton

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ofmermaidstories · 2 months ago

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I love u thank u sm for making still falling for you! the way you write is soooo beautiful and I want to say that thanks to the fic, I have the song on repeat! (SS FOR PROOF!) I keep imagining and wondering what's in store for the reader and shouto while listening to the lyrics and I just keep falling in love with the fic!!

also omg the first chap?? I CANT BELIEVE WE GOT INTRODUCED TO KAGAI (?) that bitch! I WISH HIM HELL!!! OMG I CANT BEGIN TO FORM THE WORDS!! The way SWYR and SJLT bleeds and shows itself in SFFY just makes me gasp and gosh I love your writing so much!

The pining and the tension and the words left unsaid in the first chap?!?!? I DIG IT!! thank u so much again hopefully I'll be able to form a more coherent thought next time!! hope you had a fantastic weekend! 💕

rey. 🥹👉🏽👈🏽 hi!!! thank you so much for reading it!!! i hope YOU (🫵🏽) had a fantastic weekend. 🥺🥹 STILL FALLING FOR YOU BY ELLIE GOULDING SUPREMACY !!!! 📣🙂‍↕️ the week leading up to posting the first chapter i had it on repeat, LOL. 🥹 trying to hype myself up. 🥹🥹

but—yeah, kagai. 🥹 he worms his way around in SFFY, unforch. and honestly!!! finally being able to tie together SWYR + SJLT into SFFY is like, a dream. it’s payoff!!! i’m so excited for every tiny, medium and large connection to SWYR and SJLT. 🥹 my personal favourite is coming up in chapter two—it’s not a big one, but for me it’s like… one of the core tenets of all the fics, together. LOL. i’m making it sound so serious, it’s literally just like, a throwaway line or two but—these are the things that end up mattering, i guess. the things you have to find fun it. 🥹👉🏽👈🏽📝

the pining is here to stay for a while i think. 😌 it’s hard out there!! especially when you’re half in love with a beautiful man who’s probably never known normal non-superhero connection in his life. 😩 but i think they’ll make it through….. eventually. 😌🌈🏙️

#ofmermaidstories-asks #still (falling for you) — fic

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sparkle-skitty · 1 year ago

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FANFIC PIECE/GLIMPSE

I spent a STUPID long time on just this ONE BIT here so I am showing it to everyone whether y'all like it or not

For the record, this is just a scrap from the fanfic I am writing (attempting to) and because I am not a linear writer*, everything here is subject to change if/when I get to stringing it all together more coherently. So basically, it's a demo.

I proofread it a few times, but it may not be perfect because I am tired and also was originally writing entirely third person instead of second person but found myself mentally scripting in second person - so if anything sounds wonky, I'm all ears!

(*Meaning, I do not write start to finish, I write exactly what I feel like writing regardless if it's chronologically next. The scenes are coming to me in patchwork!)

Anyway, click read more for the excerpt.

CW for: mentions of child abuse, mentions of bullying, very slight blood, very slight violence, emotional outbursts/shutdown (y/n is neurodivergent), dislike of children (again, y/n is neurodivergent), aaaand I'm not sure what else to tag so lemme know if something is needed

(For the record, y/n has some of me plus some other things I've seen with other neurodivergent people written into them so HOPEFULLY it sounds at least somewhat relatable to others in the community)

You nearly ran into one of the play structures, too interested in watching what was going on by the door to the Daycare. An adult was getting more and more agitated, while Sun held a child behind him, with unimpressed and shrugging daycare workers passing to leave as their shift had ended. The only one who had remained had been talking between the adult and Sun, but was now finally giving up with a very loud "ugh!", throwing her hands in the air as she turned away to clock out.

It was now out of sight, and you were quickly putting away the armful of toys you had carefully balanced against you into the trunks they belonged, in order to get back to the scene asap. Your Employee Fazwatch buzzed on your arm, at first making you growl "Ugh, now what?!" but your irritation evaporated as you realized it was a message from Moon.

"That adult is not one of the child's authorized pick-up persons."

Moon must have caught you staring through the cameras. You instinctively glanced up at where you knew the nearest one was, knowing likely Moon was staring back from his little cyberspace world in the Attendants' shared body. But you quickly turned heel and speed-walked over to Sun.

You were certainly frustrated that, once again, poor Sun had been left behind to deal with the remaining Daycare children alone, but you were more angry now that they had so purposefully let him take the fall for the rules and regulations that even Fazbear Entertainment had to follow by law.

"You'd think by now I'd be over this," you thought. "Not like I've never had a job before where everyone was only looking out for themselves." But you knew very well it was because it was Sun, your friend, the sweetest guy in the world (probably), that you took it so personally. And also, maybe a little because most of the workers still treated him like a mindless machine, aaand possibly because a child was involved in a potentially dangerous situation.

Okay, maybe it made a little sense to take it personally.

As you drew closer, you realized Sun's hold on the child wasn't to keep the child from going to the adult, but rather the opposite - to keep the adult from getting at the child. At every turn he was putting himself between the adult and the child, and the boy looked nervous to say the least.

Your anger suddenly sparked into a blaze of fury upon the sight. No matter how much your rational side tried to tell them that it could be only because the tone of the conversation was scaring the kid, your feral inner child was screaming for blood, having the scene be a bit too familiar and hitting too close to home.

Sun caught sight of you from the corner of his eye, and turned to look with relief that someone might be coming to rescue them, only to be a little taken aback by the absolute darkness that was emanating from your being. The dangerous glint in your eyes, the snarl that curved your lips, revealing teeth tightly ground together - it was something he hadn't yet seen from his new friend. But once you looked at him and you both locked eyes, he saw a metaphorical mask rapidly apply, especially as you noticed the man had finally looked to see what Sun had been gazing at.

The mask replaced the baleful expression with one far more bright, friendly, and chipper. Though the animatronic could see the cracks in the disguise himself, he knew it was practically impossible for any random person to see. He couldn't help but stiffen as you approached and settled beside them. He had only worked with you for a short time, but it seemed so out of character!

"Hi there!" you greeted, launching into your Customer Service Voice, enthusiastic with a great smile, your eyes crinkling. "Is there something I can do for you?"

The man waved his hand around in anger, "It's about time someone came, besides this damn robot!" Sun tensed at the word and the inflection, but stayed quiet, watching with interest at how you hadn't even flinched with the man's loud and sharp tone.

"I am so sorry about that, looks like we're the only two left in the Daycare right now! What can I help you with?"

"Tell this metal idiot to give me my nephew, will you? I'm already running late!"

You turned to Sun, smile never faltering. "Hey Sunny, is there a problem?" you asked openly.

Sun caught the hint and quickly replied, "This person has not been set as a designated guardian for this child in our system."

"Ah, well!" you turned back to the man glowering at the both of you. "I'm afraid that we can not legally allow you to take the child from the Daycare, sir. I'm terribly sorry, but I'm sure you can understand the reasoning here. Just imagine if those weren't the rules! Kids could be carted off by just any ol' person, even criminals and bad guys!"

As you spoke, you gestured - and even winked - with great enthusiasm. Your hyper-upbeat tone not once fell, but the language used was definitely a subtle accusation.

"I'm afraid you'll have to forgive my friend here, but that's the protocol!"

"I want a manager!" the man spluttered, now thoroughly furious.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, a hand going to your mouth before you tilted your head in a bow. "I'm terribly sorry, again, sir, but..." you then lifted both arms towards Sun, gesturing as if presenting him for the first time. "He IS the manager. It's his Daycare after all! He's the boss, the head honcho, the big cheese, emphasis on the big part," you quietly added to the end, tone now finally slipping to indicate the threat.

Sun couldn't help but also notice that you were doing your nervous trait of babbling and trying to joke. But he wasn't so sure this was anxiety or a matter of barely containing yourself.

"Please leave before we have to contact security," you said after a moment of silent fuming from the man, optimism now back but with an edge to it, giving firmness to the command. "If the rightful guardian or guardians can not come, they will have to contact us themselves to add you in. Otherwise, we will not be able to release this child to you."

The guy looked around a bit, grumbling and muttering angrily, before very suddenly lurching forward towards you. Sun's arm shot out automatically to snatch the man by the shirt, to stop him and lift him away, but to his shock you made your own automatic response of swiping at the man's face.

Blood swelled from parts of the claw marks on his stunned expression, but not enough blood to actually run. You had mostly gotten him to the side of his face as he had turned at the last second to look at Sun, traveling just a bit across his jaw and cheek.

The facade was dropped in an instant as you huffed and shook from the adrenaline, then shrieked, "TRY THAT AGAIN, I FUCKIN' DARE YA!"

"Language!" Sun quickly reprimanded you, glaring at you. You tore your gaze from the man's bewildered face to look at him, then looked away, snorting through your nose and folding your arms across your chest. He sighed in exasperation, knowing that sort of maneuver all too well from the children and, well, Moon.

"I am not a brat," Moon grumbled in his head.

"I didn't say anything!" Sun internally responded back.

You looked the man up and down, feet now off the ground as Sun held him firm, but he wasn't struggling. You snatched the radio out of your pocket and calmly made the call to security to remove the man from the premises.

Even as the man was escorted out, Sun's internal monitors showed your heart was still pounding away. But when you glanced at the child, your look softened to one of embarrassment, or shame? You knelt down next to him.

"Hey, sorry about that kiddo, that... must have been scary," you mumbled.

Your interactions with the children were always awkward. You had told Sun you hated kids, but on top of that also had no idea how to deal with them. Every time you were like a deer in the headlights, a newborn giraffe trying to learn to walk - unsteady, unsure, and bewildered by everything.

Sun had so far learned that you at least knew enough to be nice to the kids and to excuse yourself when it got to be too much, which was more than he could say for most of the daycare workers, which was ironic given that you were, well... a glorified janitor.

The child nodded, sniffling. There was a pause, and then the boy released Sun's pant leg and ran over to you, wrapping his little arms around you. You were surprised, then cringed.

"Um, there there..." you said, patting his back gently. To your horror, you realized he was still crying and sniffling. Sun watched with amusement as your face silently twisted into disgust. You looked up at him, pleading with him to get the child away somehow, but Sun shook his head, crossing his arms. This is now a punishment, he decided. He knew you wouldn't dare just shove the kid away.

------------------------------------

You were scrubbing at your shirt with several sanitary wipes. The snot might be gone by now, but you weren't sure and still felt unclean.

It seemed like it took forever for the child's actual guardians to show up, and Sun was not only doing the checkout, but also the report about what had happened.

You had allowed that child to tug your hands, hug you, and you even picked him up when he gestured so. Gross gross gross, little snotty kids were the worst. They had no sense of cleanliness or manners regarding germs. You shuddered at the thought of wondering if he even wiped himself, then flopped back into the security desk chair with a groan. To take your mind off your child-germophobia, you pulled out your phone and began a round of Candy Crush.

Your timeblindness caught you up again as you suddenly looked up to see Sun standing on the other side of the desk. He had his arms folded again, and wore a frown.

"That wasn't being a very good role-model, you know."

"Heck off, I'm not Daycare staff, so I don't--"

"Ah ah!" Sun cut you off, "You ARE Daycare staff, buster, even if it's just to clean, and as you so eloquently put it, I'm the boss here. And I say you need to be a better role model."

"Well personally I like their spunk," Moon snickered in his head. Sun ignored him.

There was a moment of silence between you two, before you shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh well."

Sun's eyebrow twitched with irritation. "Don't "oh well" me! You were cussing, AND you got physical with a customer--"

"Not a customer, just a dick."

"Language! Let's just hope you didn't teach the little one to solve our problems with anger and violence."

"Right, let's hope he never believes a grownup will stand up for him again in his life," you growled mockingly.

Sun was stunned, feeling frustration rise. He put his head in his hand and let out an exasperated sigh. "You can stand up for people without resorting to attacking others."

"Not always. Not every time." you answered lowly.

Sun noticed your heart rate was starting to climb again, and you were beginning to shake. Well, if there's one thing about this whole debacle that was a positive, it's the fact you make it so obvious when you're upset or angry.

"Let's calm down," he said soothingly. "This is just a discussion, you don't need to get angry--"

You stood bolt upright from your chair, your voice raising, "This isn't a discussion! You're chastising and-and-and down-talking and-and... belittling me! For defending myself! Because-because what? The kid might see it and-and think, oh man I-I-I should probably do something if someone... if someone just-just.... comes at me!" You were stammering and practically vibrating with the sudden spike in temper.

Sun leaned back with his hands up, a look of surprise on his face. "Woah, woah, woah! Hold on! I'm sorry if that's how I made you feel, but the rules--"

"DAMN THE RULES! The rules are out of order! Th-th-this whole court is out of order! Stupid! Fuck! AUGH!"

"Now that's enough--!" Sun cut himself off when you slammed your rear back into the chair and spun it, rolling it back in the process, and faced the wall. Hands crossed, face red, you slumped in anger and drew in on yourself.

Sun let the silence settle, giving you both time to relax, and for you to come out of your shut down. You pulled out your phone and started blasting aggressive music.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed wearily. "Y/n, please, I'm sorry," he started, voice calm but raised enough to hear over the music. "I am not trying to treat you less, I'm sorry I made you so angry..." he lifted his head up at a thought. "Wait... why are you so angry? You were furious before, too, when you were coming to check on us."

You didn't answer, but you had lowered your foot and were now bouncing your leg.

"Give it a minute," Moon spoke to Sun. He paused before continuing, a hint of a grin in his voice, "I have to say, it's interesting to see someone put themselves in time out."

"They've shut down, Moonie, you know what a shut down is."

Moon hummed. "They did choose to sit in a chair and face a wall, though."

"Can't you take this seriously?"

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of wheels on the floor. You had gently kicked off from the wall and were now rolling comically slow towards them. You had lowered your music, and still had a pout, eyes downcast, and your arms crossed. You bumped into the desk without a word.

More silence. Sun waited patiently, shoving down the anxiety trying to creep its way up. Nope! Not gonna go there!

Eventually, you swallowed your pride and spoke up. "I'm... sorry," you began slowly. "I lost my cool. It's been a while since I've dealt with... the public... on a, mm, personal level. And I'm sorry I scared the little guy." As you spoke, you turned the chair to sit properly at the desk, placing your elbows on it and clasping your hands.

You then looked up at Sun, and glared. "I'm NOT sorry about standing up for him. As a general thing. Even if I did it wrong."

"I'm on their side." Moon stated matter-of-factually. "...And don't you dare think what I think you'll think of that."

"The only thing I think of that is that you're both a bad influence on each other."

Sun's shoulders slumped. Well, it's a start, at least. He can work with this.

"Again, I'm sorry too, the rules are a bit of a... erm, a big deal to me, to put it simply." Sun stood poised to offer his explanation, even though Moon suddenly turned sour at the mere idea of talking about... that.

Meanwhile, you furrowed your brows, looking down at the desk again. You were also battling with bringing up some vulnerability, and chewed your lip. He did ask, but is it too awkward to bring up now?

You took a deep breath, "Anyway... I lost my cool because... I..." your voice trailed off with a drawn-out croak, but Sun didn't interrupt or interject. It took a minute for you to build your courage again.

"Well... when I was... a kid," you spoke haltingly, taking your time in order to keep your voice and emotions level. "I was... bullied. A lot. Really badly. Just for being weird, I guess, I dunno... And, nobody helped me. So I just, took care of it myself. Or, well, tried to." You glanced back up at Sun, "That's... ssssorta why I had that, uh, kneejerk reaction, when that dude tried to- when he just- when he came at me like that."

Sun and Moon were both listening intently. It wasn't often their human coworkers would open up, and in particular, you had made yourself a bit of an anomaly with your unpredictable statements and odd behaviour - an anomaly that they had taken a liking to, admittedly. Maybe they just liked anomalous people, since it seemed to be a pattern.

"That... doesn't quite explain what made you angry in the first place, though..." Sun said softly, not wanting to accidentally spook you from talking it out.

You sat back, your chin tucked in and your eyes cast down, and crossed your arms. Sun feared he had in fact actually caused exactly what he was trying to avoid, but you spoke back up.

"Yeah... yeah... the bullies... the worst ones were adults."

Boom. Bombshell.

Sun and Moon would have exchanged shocked glances if they had the ability to. Oh yes, they were well aware that adults could be bullies to other adults, including animatronics, but to kids? Unthinkable! The very notion sent their protocols in a little tizzy.

"Teachers, mostly," you continued. You took a deep, shaking breath. "But... then there were, of course... family members. Specifically my parents. Especially when I started getting into fights, oh they hated that. I was an embarrassment to them for not being like..." you waved your hand around, attempting to find the word, emotions building and causing brainfog. "Y'know, uh, demure and-and delicate and sweet and pretty and... and all that sh- crap..."

You settled back into the desk chair, your arms now laid against the arms of the chair. You still didn't look up, and began idly picking and clawing at the ends of said armrests. You took careful, slow breaths, trying to keep from bursting into a fit of some sort - most likely a crying fit, if anything. It'd been a very, very long time since you'd actually talked about all of this, and for precisely this reason.

"So, um, you can imagine - I think you can anyway - the kinds of things they did to try and--"

"They... they what?! They thought THAT was more embarrassing than their child being bullied!?" Sun exclaimed, flabbergasted.

The suddenness of his interjection widened your eyes for a minute, then you gave a laugh - a hollow, awful giggle that was laced with all the anger, hurt, anxiety, and vulnerability you were feeling at the moment.

"Um, yeah!? Kids will be kids, after all," you sneered mockingly. Not at him, but at the past. "I was just overreacting and causing a scene, of course." You slumped into the chair so low you could have easily slid out. "Of course..." you muttered. Your outburst had been sufficient to release all that negative energy you'd been building.

"So um... yeah... that's why I was... prrrrobably more than a little ready to go feral on that guy... He just had that vibe, you know? You know the one."

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seidenbros · 2 years ago

Text

Don't Panic, I'm a Mechanic - Part 1 Lover's Lake

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie x Shy!Plussize!Bookstore!Reader

Warnings: modern AU, female reader, allusions to smut, fluff, insecurities (body image), I tried not to include anythign about yn's looks uncluding skin colour, so if there's anything you find, anything I can make better, please let me know, cause I wanna try to make you all enjoy this, best friend Steve, very shy y/n, teasing and petnames (princess), mutual pining, eddie &reader are 29/28 (let me know what I misses)

Word Count: 2198

Author's note: here we are, I'm not gonna have chapters in themselves, like the next part won't start exactly where this one leaves off. There might be shorter blurbs or longer parts, I don't know yet, but they will (hopefully) appear in order.

Summary: You like Eddie, Eddie likes you, but you are too shy and cannot talk to him properly. Especially not when he keeps teasing you. Meanwhile Eddie thinks you don't like him like that and just get flustered beause he teases you. A day at Lover's Lake suddenly brings a little change when Eddie sees what book you read and you get closer than you've ever been before.

Part 2

The unmistakable sound of a motorcycle made your ear perk up. It wasn’t just any motorcycle, you knew exactly who it belonged to. Even the sound of his motorcycle made your skin tingle and your heart beat faster. What it was about Eddie Munson that made you behave the way you did, you couldn’t tell, but he’d gotten to you the moment you’d set eyes on him.

For some time now, you’d been part of the same group of friends, because Steve had pretty much adopted you when you’d moved to Hawkins, Nancy had become one of your closest friends as well, and when you’d been introduced to Eddie after some time, he’d taken your breath away, and he’d occupied your thoughts and fantasies. But you were never able to say anything. Well, it was hard for you to speak at all sometimes, when he was around. With everyone else, it wasn’t a problem at all. You were witty, made them love, showed how enthusiastic you could become about something you loved, but with Eddie? Your mouth betrayed you, and you weren’t able to form coherent sentences sometimes. Especially not when he called you princess. Rationally, you knew that he called a lot of people that, but when he used that petname for you and gave you that little smirk, you were close to a heart attack. He was only teasing you, you knew that, but it still got to you.

Today, you spent the time with the others at Lover’s Lake. You’d planned this day ahead, so Steve had brought pizza and beer along, and you’d helped him carry everything, cause he’d picked you up and taken you along with him. You’d gotten into a bit of a rush in the end, so you’d just grabbed two books from your table to bring them along. You never left the house without a book, no matter where you went, even if it was just to go grocery shopping. Ever since you were little, you’ve stuck your nose in a book, so it was probably not a big surprise that you were working at a bookstore now. Whenever someone needed a book recommendation, they could come to you and ask you about it. There was a good possibility that you knew just the right book for everyone.

You sank lower in the water when you watched Eddie approach. While he walked, he pulled the helmet off, shaking out his locks. When he found your spot, he put down his bag as well as the helmet and took off his leather jacket. You felt your whole body heat up when he lifted his hands to put his hair into a low bun, his shirt riding up to reveal just a little patch of his stomach, but enough for you to see that little happy trail.

“What’re you looking at?” Steve’s teasing voice was close to your ear, making you jump slightly, before you duck under water completely, nearly letting out a frustrated scream. Steve knew you too well. Way too well, and he always managed to tease you like that when it came to Eddie. But he’d promised never to breathe a word about your feelings. Nancy had found out all by herself, and she had also promised you not to say anything. She only tried to encourage you to say something to Eddie. Yeah, but that wasn’t possible if you always managed to stumble over your words when it came to him. With everyone else, it wasn’t a problem at all, but Eddie…

When you came back up for air, Steve was grinning at you. Goddamn, you should have known that Eddie would be here as well, that he’d come by when he’d finished work for the day, but you’d somehow forgotten about the time, because you were enjoying yourself with the others. Otherwise, you would have been out of the water, wrapped in a towel or dressed again already when he got here.

There were days when you felt really good in your own body, but then there were days when you just wanted to vanish, when all the insecurities bubbled up. Usually those days were rare, and your friends hyped you up so much that you felt comfortable in going for a swim with them, in putting on a bikini and joining them. But with Eddie around, you somehow felt more aware of the size of your body. Not that you thought that Eddie would judge you, he was one of the least judgemental people you knew when it came to something like that, but… still, something in your head switched and made you want to put on some more clothes, or go swimming with a shirt over the bikini.

“I should… get out of the water,” you let Steve know before you swam to the edge and got out of the water. Eddie’s eyes were on you the moment he spotted you getting out, and he didn’t take his eyes off you. That was only more reason for you to walk quicker to grab the towel to wrap around your body. You didn’t want to be rude and sit down somewhere alone, you were friends after all, so you hurried to your clothes and put on the flannel you’d brought with you that hit you about mid thigh, grabbed a book from your bag, and walked over to Eddie.

“Hey Eddie,” you managed to say, before you sat down on the landing stage, leaving a bit of space between the two of you, dipping your feet into the water.

“Hello princess, already enough swimming fun for today?” Eddie tilted his head to the side, eyes roaming over your body until they focused on your eyes. God he really couldn’t get enough of looking at you. Especially when he saw you talking with someone else about something you really loved. Books most of the time. He just wished that you would talk to him like that, but there was something holding you back. He was pretty sure you didn’t like him all that much, at least that was the feeling he got, but Steve had assured him that this wasn’t the case. Steve, who always managed to make you laugh. Steve, who even made you squeal when started tickling you to make you loosen up. Steve who was always there to save the day for you.

Honestly, Steve was Eddie’s friend, a good friend even, but when he saw you two together, he couldn’t shake that feeling of jealousy that crept up on him. Rationally, Eddie knew that there was nothing going on between the two of you, but his poor heart didn’t really listen to that all the time. Especially not when you were so open and always smiling with Steve, and with him… you always seemed to have nothing to say, when he knew for a fact that you told wonderful stories.

“Yeah… just… need a break I guess,” you managed to say, focusing your eyes on the water in front of you, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Too bad, I thought I could join you, but maybe I can convince you to get in the water with me again.” He smiled at you, his eyes scanning over your thighs, then slowly up your torso to your face. To the way your teeth bore into your lips, the way your nose scrunched up slightly before you answered.

“Yeah… maybe.” That was as good as he was gonna get, he knew that. But he was determined to at least get you talking a little bit, so he asked about the one thing he knew you were passionate about.

“Whatcha reading there?” Eddie nodded towards the book in your hands. Since you had no idea which book you’d taken, you simply handed it to him.

“Haven’t started reading it yet,” you managed to say, looking over at Steve, who asked you without a sound, if you were alright. You weren’t really, but that was because of your heart beating for the metalhead next to you. The guy who made you so nervous that you had trouble speaking. But apart from that…? So you nodded.

“See Jane Score,” Eddie read the title, turning the book over to read the blurb on the backside. You tensed next to him, figuring that you had grabbed the one steamy romance novel from the table. There had been five books altogether, all of them different genres, and you had chosen that one blindly. Fucking perfect. It was the second book in a series you had just started, and the first one had already made you squirm in your seat when you’d read it. Maybe because it combined ice-hockey and the steamy romance aspect. But now that Eddie held it in his hands, you felt your whole body heat up again, your flannel suddenly feeling way too tight and warm for this day.

“Sounds interesting,” he said, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye, when he handed the book back to you. “Should maybe give it a read myself.”

You took the book back from him, his fingers lingering on yours a moment too long, but you tried your best to ignore it, putting the book beside you.

“It’s not… it’s completely different from what you read most of the time, so… I-I don’t know…” You sighed, shaking your head.

“If I’ll like it? Gotta have to try to find that out. Besides, I wonder what makes you tick, what you enjoy.” He winked, before he slowly got up, rising to his full height, before he whipped his shirt over his head.

“W-What are you doing?” you asked, eyes wide with surprise, because you hadn’t expected this at all. For a moment, your eyes were glued to his stomach, before you were able to shake your head and rip your eyes from him and stop your mind from wandering. What he did to you with his mere presence was simply not fair.

“Getting in the water, what does it look like?” There it was again, that smirk that made your knees weak. “You gonna join me?” The soft smile on his lips, the pleading look in his eyes… you weren’t able to say no. Gone were your insecurities for the moment when you started unbuttoning your flannel again, while Eddie dropped his pants and pushed them aside.

“Lemme help you,” he offered, holding out his hand for you. Without thinking about it, you took his hand, expecting him to just help you up, but instead, he pulled you flush against his chest as soon as you were up. Your boobs were squished against his chest, your eyes set on his lips, slowly moving up to look into his deep brown eyes. God, you were sure, he could feel your heart beating, could probably even hear it.

“Hold your breath,” Eddie mumbled before he jumped into the water with you. You managed to do as you were told, but once beneath the cold water, Eddie let go of you, even pushed you slightly towards the surface, because he didn’t want you to swallow any water or lose your breath. He stayed below the surface a moment longer. When you came up, you gasped for air. The water managed to cool your body down a bit after everything Eddie had done to it, to you with his presence and the closeness just now.

Every single one of your senses was on high alert, your skin tingling, your heart racing, your thighs clenching together just because of Eddie. Eddie who was gone a moment longer before he popped up again a bit away from you, pushing the loose strands of hair from his face to look at you.

“You alright? Didn’t wanna tackle you like that.” A look of concern crossed Eddie’s face, but it was quickly gone when he saw the pretty smile on your lips.

“‘M alright… Was getting a bit hot anyway.” But that was not exactly due to the weather.

“Yeah… Yeah me too,” Eddie admitted, but he was quickly called over by Dustin and diverted his attention to his friend. He needed that, needed the distraction from you. because he’d pushed you away from himself beneath the water for a reason. A reason that was very prominent in his boxers right now, so he really had to cool and calm down, and definitely stop himself from thinking about your soft body beneath his, his hands all over you while he was buried deep inside you. Needless to say, you’d had the same thoughts being flush against him, but neither of you did anything about it, and instead, you’d be spending your evening in bed, writing up another scenario for your readers on tumblr with your original characters Wallace “Ace” and Heather… Steve was the only one who knew about that, and he was your biggest fan. He just had to blend out that you had modeled Ace after Eddie.

Tag-List: @hellv1ra @sweetpeapod @eddiemunson95 @e0509 @munsonology @niceboyeds @loverology @bolontiku @tessab154 @m00nlight101 @tellhound @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @bellamy-barnes @hardysbitch @give-em-hellfire @samlealea @hacker-ghost @kirsteng42 @princesseddie @anaisweird @harringtonfan4 @ethereal27cereal @goldenkinglouis @goldylions @lightvixxen

Tagged a few of the people who asked about it and who I thought might be interested 💚 let me know if you want to be added or taken from this list 💚

#eddie munson #yes eddie munson drives a motorcycle in this #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #staffi writes #don't panic I'm a mechanic

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pianoandcookiedoughlover · 6 months ago

Note

hi! i just read your first chapter of the mags fic! the beginning made me think about what the people of district 4s reaction may have been to mizzen & coral- do you have any thoughts?

hello!! thank you so much for reading, that means the world to me :)

i don't think anyone actually watched the games except for jack and maybe mags's dad (via jack, of course). i just don't think that was accessible to the districts yet, from all the stuff i read. this will be the first year the districts get to actually watch.

so i am not sure if mizzen and coral's relative success in the 10th games would've been known by the majority of the district. it sounds like the stories of the arena existed only with the victor and, as we know, lucy gray is mia at this point so i really don't think they would've known. i am planning to tie in a little bit of district four in the 10th games once we actually begin with the games in this fic, so i'm excited for that!! i won't spoil though hehe

i imagine they would've been known in the district, though. i do honestly see a bit of coral in mags, though mags i think does, at the end of the day, have better of control of her emotions. i imagine that coral would've been quite popular in the district. mags wouldn't necessarily have been friends with her but i think she definitely would've known of her and admired her determination and attitude.

as for mizzen, i think he would've been a bit less known, but if mags had known of him, i'm sure she would've taken a liking to him. mags is very perceptive and is always kind of watching out for the underdog. he was only thirteen, and he might be reminiscent to a character we'll learn of soon...

but thank you again for reading and for the question!! i realize that was a ramble but hopefully it offered a somewhat coherent answer asjdksfk

#the hunger games #mags flanagan #tbosas #coral tbosas #mizzen tbosas #district 4 #thg #also i posted chapter two!!!#getting a bit more development #before the inevitable bombshell of the reaping #as my bf described it #but again thank you for the question and i hope you enjoy :)

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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year ago

Text

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 3 - Canning Town Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 2 Summary: Flirting, Leicester Square station mixtape, flowers and breakdowns in the cantina. Or another chapter of an unlikely liaison. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language and imagery and more outrageous flirting. Author's Notes: Chapter a month might just be the new deal here, apologies. And this one's long, by which I mean over 11k 💁🏻‍♀️ It also seems like now that I've started, I can't stay away from Neil's POV so... yeah. Look out for a cheeky cameo too 😉 Other than that, I can assure you this is just as chaotic and ridiculous as the last chapter. These two are in full control, I'm just a mere scribe, doing my best. Hopefully it works. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Incorporating Neil into your daily (and weekly) life was easy. Almost terrifyingly so if you did as much as stop and think about it. Perhaps the self-preservation rooted deep within forbade you to reflect on it. Which, in hindsight, was a good thing.

After that first victory of obtaining Neil’s number, you did not hold back from texting and bombarding him with daily nonsensical memes that could have driven a different man to madness. Neil, however, took it in his stride. It was rare not to get a reply from him after longer than an hour. And that boosted your courage like nothing else.

Some days, the conversations went like this:

/ 🏹, 12:07 pm/ Show me what socks are you wearing.

/✝️, 12:13 pm/ Jesus, that’s forward.

/ 🏹, 12:14 pm/ That’s basically my second name. So?

/ 🏹, 12:14 pm/ I swear I won’t sell the pic on OF.

/✝️, 12:20 pm/ Well, if you do, then at least share the earnings with me.

Although you started the ridiculous conversation, when the next text came, consisting of a single image of a socked ankle bared by the familiar hand pulling up the pant leg, you nearly dropped the coffee cup in the middle of the Covent Garden. It was just an ordinary Tuesday lunchtime, with the square bustling with sound and movement. Using the rare sunny September day, you escaped the confines of the Royal Opera House to have your coffee break on the kerb. Thanks to the dwindling sense of coherence, you did not drop said coffee when you opened the photo. The socks you had asked for were black with a grey argyle pattern. But that was where the normalcy ended, for the rhombuses were filled with corgi heads. The brown-beige dogs stared at you through the screen with their beady eyes and were the reason for your hysterical laughter.

The overprotective mother tending to her children close by shot you a dirty look. Well, fuck her.

/ 🏹, 12:23 pm/ Neil, you’re too cute. Way too cute.

/✝️, 12:32 pm/ It’s what every guy wants to hear. Thanks, Cupid.

/ 🏹, 12:34 pm/ I never said you’re not hot, though. Which you very much are. So much that I thought of you when…

/✝️, 12:35 pm/ Yeah, don’t finish that sentence. Please.

/✝️, 12:35 pm/ I’d rather maintain my innocence.

/ 🏹, 12:36 pm/ As you wish 😘

That was not a lie. It was a result of yet another tiring day and an early night in bed when it was too early to sleep. So, you chose to fill the time like most women would, letting your thoughts drift to images and scenarios that always did the trick as your hand delved between your thighs. When you realised who you had been thinking of, the tension was so close to bursting that you did not try to shift the attention. When you came, the guilt was nowhere to be found.

After all, it was not a sin to think of pretty boys when taking the edge off. As soon as you realised that Neil did not take the flirty line seriously, that feeling of potentially having done something wrong became non-existent. It was fine. It was all fine.

Other times, especially during those Wednesday mornings on the Tube, your conversations looked more like this:

“I’ve got an invasive question…” changing the subject during your weekly chats was easy, for as soon as you set a weighty gaze on Neil, he sobered up too.

The endless questions did not seem to bother him either. Your boundless curiosity was particularly grateful for that.

“As long as you’re not going to ask me what underwear I’m wearing, I think we’re fine,” the poker face was only disturbed by Neil’s twitching lips, and the sparks danced in his eyes as he inclined his head in your direction, blessing you with the golden strands, “Shoot,”

Every time, you took a deep breath, silently gathering the courage to ask, and then let the question fall from your lips without a pause:

“When was the last time you’ve been in love?” the curiosity was all it was.

Yet still, Neil’s widening eyes made you consider that perhaps something else was underlining that desire to know. And that this question was different than others you had asked. Different from “Dogs or cats?” “Typical coffee order?” and “Any hidden talents?”. But it was too late to take it back.

“Oof, you weren’t joking” Neil seemed to shake it off quickly, only briefly offering you a glare before looking down to find the needed words, “Probably two-ish years ago…?” you were sure you had imagined the broken edge in his voice as Neil swallowed hard and continued “It was a disaster. She didn’t- Let’s just say I went in too hard and too fast, and she got scared. Pretty much ghosted me after a half-assed excuse” when he raised his head and meet your gaze, you could see the depths of hurt in his eyes.

Your heart felt pathetically hollow, but you smothered the feeling to nothing but an uncomfortable sting.

“Ouch,” a wince was easy enough to muster, and you followed it with an apology, “Sorry,” Neil’s crestfallen look was an inspiration for you to place your hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze “I know that it doesn’t help, but it’s her, not you” you knew the light statement was the right way to go when Neil cracked a wry smile and gave your other wrist a tap.

“Thanks,” it was evident enough to realise that Neil was eager to drop the subject. It was clearer still that you were going to be the next target, “I won’t ask you the same since I know better, but… Do you really think no one could change your view on love?” yet when the question fell in the space between you, it was not what you had expected.

The surprise must have painted on your face, for Neil looked a second away from taking it back. You stopped him from doing that the only way you could think of – by extending your hand in what was universally thought of as a ‘hold up’ motion. It was not that you did not want to answer. And it was not the first time someone had asked either.

But it was not something you were keen on inspecting and tearing apart to offer an honest answer. It was a fact, pure and simple. A fact that you would believe in till the day you died. There was no place for love in your life, and there would never be. Full stop.

“Yeah, I do,” you met Neil’s waiting gaze and offered him a weak shrug. The strange disappointment in his gaze made no sense, so you chose to ignore it to shift your attention to the world outside the carriage as it arrived at the next station. The belief in your next words was as tangible as anything else you could conceive, “It would take a miracle”.

He did not ask that question again.

Those Wednesday morning conversations also became a source of information, which you had stowed securely in the compartment of your brain labelled ‘Neil’. After almost two months of acquittance, you knew that he was born and raised a Londoner (from Richmond, the posh fuck [affectionate]), was decidedly a dog person and had a chocolate Labrador growing up (a girl named Daisy), listened to alt-rock and 80s music and was what he described as a hopeless romantic. You still did not know what he did for work, only that he was decidedly not a tattooist, literary agent, paramedic, jockey, art critic, dressmaker, choreographer, or bus driver. Whether he was truly not just a priest undercover was still up for debate.

***

Only when you fled the confines of the ordinary tiny London flat kitchen and felt the night breeze of the city on your skin, left bare from the jacket you did not yet put on, had the question of the ages pop into your head. What the fuck? There was no answer. You shook your head against the memories of what had just conspired and stopped on the pavement to put on and fasten the jacket. Even annoyed, you could still feel the biting cold begin to settle in your bones.

You never expected to bump into Liam. Never in a million years would you have considered that those two friends you shared would extend the invitation to that man out of all people. And you certainly did not expect him to come.

Although, as he had unhelpfully explained himself, he only showed up because of the chance you would be there. The audacity made you shake your head vehemently, without a doubt attracting a glare or two from those who remained sober at this hour. In Soho on Saturday night, that was unlikely.

You walked through the cobbled streets with the neon lights lighting your path without an aim or a map. The only objective was to stomp the frustration into the cracked pavement and end up home. Somehow. Specifics were to be determined later.

Sure, rushing out of your mate’s flat like a lightning bolt could be seen as impulsive. But Liam offered you no choice. The pleasant buzz of alcohol did nothing to stop the embarrassment, which grew worse by the minute. The long walk in an unknown direction was a sad but acceptable consequence. Or so you aimed to maintain.

By the time you had seriously begun to consider using the dwindling phone battery to order an Uber and save you from the penance of someone else’s transgressions, the red circle with a navy blue bar appeared on the horizon. Salvation, at last. You picked up the pace, eager to get out of the cold and that one step closer to home. This close to Leicester Square and the theatres just having closed their doors on the last patrons, the bustle seemed quieter somehow, more subdued. It was a blessing for your budding headache and a threat to the thoughts eager to appear with nothing suppressing them.

You crossed the road and descended the staircase with a sigh. The heat of the station enveloped you like a hug as you passed the ticketing gates and spent an unnecessarily long time staring at the Tube map. When the logic kicked in, at last, you rushed over to the correct platform.

Only to regret it as soon as the timing screen came into view. Heathrow Airport 25 mins. The polite PSA text below informed you the line was experiencing delays. No biggie. They were sorry. The usual shit. A curse litany lodged in your throat as your eyes roamed over the platform.

All the noise in your head faded to nothing when your gaze settled on that familiar blonde head of hair. He was sitting in one of the few chairs with his head bowed over his knees in a position so exemplary for a Saturday night in the glorious London town. You skimmed over his body, taking note of the casual jeans and a t-shirt, peeking from beneath the unbuttoned jacket.

Before you knew it, your legs had started carrying you in his direction, a goofy smile present on your face. The improbability of it happening made everything easier. Because what were the odds?

Instead of counting them, you approached Neil, still so blissfully unaware of your presence and delivered an opening line:

“Hello, Father,” the joke did not yet get old, and you still got the kick out of it.

Especially when Neil raised his head fast enough to give himself a whiplash and gasped from shock.

“Jesus- Oh, what the fuck?” clutching at his heaving chest with all the drama he could muster, Neil offered you a look so full of surprise you knew he did not expect this to happen either.

The only weekend plans you had discussed over texts were that you had a party to go to, and he was likely to go out with his workmates at some point. But that was it. Zero specifics, no need to share them because there was no need for either of you to know the details. And yet.

“Is that how you should greet a lady?” playing on his theatrical reaction, you feign a shocked expression.

It was clear you would fail at any attempts of annoyance. Your cheeks were already aching with that kind of wide, manic grin only Neil seemed to cause. You could see his eyes skim over your figure, taking in your clothes with that sort of precision only he seemed capable of. Finally, satisfied with what he saw, Neil raised his head to meet your gaze again and got up to bow lowly at your feet:

“Apologies, m’lady,” before you knew what he was doing, he took hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles. A move so fast you almost thought you had imagined it if not for the fading sensation of his lips still ghosting your skin, “What are you doing here?” with his hand lightly touching your elbow, Neil steered you towards the seats.

Only now, with the surprises fading into the background, you took note of the empty platform. It was just the two of you sitting on the creaky plastic chairs. You shifted an inch closer to Neil, seeking the warmth radiating off his body and replied:

“As I’ve mentioned, I had an invitation to this flat party in Soho… And I went, but then, and you’ll never believe that happened-” recounting the improbable story felt good, and you took pleasure in the attention Neil gave your every word.

“Let me guess… Liam showed up?” his interjection followed your dramatic pause flawlessly.

Of course, he got it. Of course, he guessed. You shook your head at his eager smile, aware of the glee in your eyes:

“Damn, you’re good” your low approving whistle reverberated in the space. Most shockingly, there was a certain level of joy in sharing the story, even as your skin crawled with the embarrassment of what transpired, “Yeah, and it turns out that getting blocked did not make him smarter. It became a whole thing, along with him getting down on his knees in the middle of a kitchen and proclaiming his undying love to me,” you wondered if Liam was still there, kneeling on the tiled floor and waiting for your return.

Partially, you hoped that was the case.

Throwing you out of the strange ruminations, Neil shook his head and offered you a serious look:

“Blimey,” his tsk almost got lost in the PA announcement, crackling from the speakers. When it ended, Neil met your gaze with a sympathetic smile, “No wonder you ran away,” his knee nudged yours, triggering something you would not understand even in months.

Sitting upright, you nodded fervently:

“I had to” the emotions you did not know were present poured out from your lips as the next words fell in the space between you, “And like- He doesn’t even know me? He never saw me on the stage, and he thinks that making me cum a couple of times is enough?” a frustrated growl tore from your chest as you finished the tirade with a tired sigh and simple punchline, “Bullshit,”

There was no time or willingness to take apart where all that anger came from or why it was suddenly so important Neil understood your reasons. It just was. Later it was easily blamed on the alcohol still present in your veins. For now, you met his gaze and shrugged, answering the questions he seemed too shy to ask.

“With that, I must agree. It’s bullshit” nudging you with his shoulder, Neil smiled, brightening the clouds that still seemed to hang over your mind.

You shot him a brilliant grin, brushing away the concerns with terrifying ease. They had to wait, ideally forever.

“Thanks, babe” sugar coated your smile as you allowed yourself to gaze, taking note of the blush spreading on his cheeks. Although you would never admit it out loud, the blue of his eyes was slowly becoming your favourite shade of the colour. It was that thought that triggered your next confession, “Admittedly, meeting you here is a highlight of the night,” you watched as his eyes grew wider, evidently not expecting to hear something that honest. The moment stretched for what felt like ages until you found the strength to look away, focusing on the timing screen and the issues it posed, “Though, those delays are bullshit, too” your eye-roll elicited an instant laugh, which only added warmth to the kindling sparks in your chest.

“Mhmm,” Neil’s hum acted like an anchor, tying you to reality.

It was a better place to get lost in than the chaos raging in your head. You chose to stick by it, following the easy way out with a simple question:

“How come you’re here?” you turned towards Neil, hoping to block the platform and the world beyond from view.

Even if just figuratively and for a short while. If the answering bright smile was anything to go by, Neil was happy to humour you:

“I’ve been out for drinks at a pub, but then our crowd isn’t very… boisterous, so we all went our separate ways, and here I am,” he signed off the summary with an explanatory shrug, but you should have kept your guard up. Once his gaze settled on you with an intensity of intent, a pathetic instinct kickstarted your heart with all the subtlety of trainwreck, “Bored as fuck until you’ve shown up” the joy in that simple sentiment was enough to make your cheeks heat up.

Of its own volition, your brain provided the fresh memory of how Liam’s attention in that cursed kitchen had made you feel. How running away was the only option you saw then. It was different now; the quiet focus of the man sitting next to you was a welcomed change. A company you were happy to keep. For however long you were allowed.

“How long do you think till it’s-” ignoring the shyness that did not seem happy to be buried in Neil’s company, you changed the subject with all the grace of an elephant.

It was evident in how you stuttered, quickly abandoning the idea of finishing the sentence and letting it trail off into the quiet. It was too early to raise your head from the depths of shame it was drowning in. It was all a little too much.

“Could be twenty minutes, could be an hour… or never,” Neil’s voice gained a cheeky edge as if conscious of your minor crisis and happy to offer a distraction.

You risked a peek at his face, finding the signature smirk gracing his face. That expression never failed to feel like a sharpened knife piercing through the walls of your uncertainty. It complimented his face too well, dragging the attention to Neil’s sharp features and his remarkable eyes that always felt like they could see right through your bullshit and the pretending. It was terrifying.

It was then, in the light of his frightening beauty, that you decided what to do next. What was necessary to keep you (moderately) sane. One look at your tote bag lying on your lap offered inspiration:

“Fab,” your dry comment elicited Neil’s laugh and sealed the deal on what you wanted to do next. There was no backing out. You straightened your spine and swivelled on the seat to face him fully. When your knees touched him, Neil’s eyes widened almost comically. But that was only the beginning of the wild ride for him, you were sure of it, “Well, then… Dance with me,” the delivery of that line required a special nonchalance.

One that required you to hold Neil’s gaze long after you had finished speaking, and the words had only just dawned on him. Once they did, his eyes got comically large, and his lips parted on what could only be a mute expression of horror. A giggle got trapped in your throat, but you fought valiantly against it. For now.

“Pardon?” Neil’s choked-out question came after sequenced opening and closing his mouth with nothing coming up.

Your poker face was tearing at the seams. Foolishly.

“Dance with me, Neil,” repeating the request (order?), you extended your hand towards him, signing off the invitation for what it was.

The shock was still present on his face. Despite that, Neil slipped his palm, warm and fitting perfectly, into yours. You could tell that it was not entirely conscious on his part.

You sure did not mind it, though.

“I might have had a drink or two, but I didn’t think I was drunk enough to be hearing things,” Neil’s incredulity bled into his tone as he stared you down as if hoping the sheer disbelief would be enough to deter you.

Tough luck.

“Come on,” squeezing his hand, you switched the tactic with a question, “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” there was no judgment in your gaze, and you hoped Neil knew that.

If asked, you could not explain why that was something you wanted to do with him, there and then of all places. But it still felt important. Urgent, even.

The no-bullshit look you got in return almost made you burst into laughter.

“You’ll see me dance,” Neil deadpanned as if it was clear.

As if that was the peak horror that could befall him at your hands. Using the lifeline of your joined palms, you rubbed your thumb over the tender skin of his hand, hoping to let that act as a reassurance. That was a nonsensical fear to have.

Who gave you, a mediocre ballerina, the right to judge? Absolutely no one.

“And?” you offered Neil a brilliant grin, doing your best not to think about how right it felt to have his hand resting in yours.

That question seemed to catch his attention, pulling him back from the precipice of self-doubt. You watched as Neil pondered the answer, staring at you with that bright-eyed, anxious expression, complete with his teeth nibbling on his lower lip. He picked at the worried, fragile skin, and you did not think about soothing the damage with your tongue. Not at all.

“I don’t know… You’ll leave and block me?” when he finally found a plausible answer, it was the last thing you expected Neil to say.

Despite the seriousness on his face, you could not hold back the laugh that spilt from your lips. What an idiot [affectionate]. The adorable pout in his bottom lip was responsible for the recklessness you chose to implement.

Without thinking about it too much, you leaned in and used your free hand to cup his face, eradicating the remains of the gap between you. As your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, Neil gasped, barely disguising the sound with a cough. The grin spread over your face as you spoke:

“It takes a little more than that for me to block you,” that was true; you could barely fathom blocking Neil, least of all because of such a trivial reason. It was only after a beat that the second meaning of what he said sunk in. The meaning you expected Neil did not exactly consider slipping out like that. You grabbed it with both hands and a knowing smile, “Also… you enjoy talking to me that much?”

The jackpot shot came with a furious blush on his cheeks and an embarrassed scoff as Neil turned away from your watchful gaze. Your hands stayed linked. That, too, was an adorable reaction. It made that pleasant warmth in your chest burner brighter, though you refused to inspect it too closely.

Before you could consider pushing him for a reply further, Neil jumped up from the creaky seat and pulled you to standing using your tight handhold. The fake pep was visible from miles away, especially in that manic grin that almost seemed too wide on his face. But you did not have the time to question it.

“Okay, let’s just dance,” Neil tugged at your hand impatiently.

He did not seem capable of standing still, hopping from one leg to another. If that was a sign of what was coming, you knew you were not ready. Your eyes narrowed in what you hoped was a mildly threatening look:

“That’s a deflection tactic,” still, you took a step closer to him, finally putting that handhold to use.

“Yes, it is,” Neil nodded as his arms opened in a shrug.

That was your answer. You could only cement it with a smile as you allowed him to pull you closer, almost into his open arms, except-

“Wait, we need music,” remembering that crucial missing piece, you let go of his hand and darted back to the tote abandoned by the seats.

“No shit,” Neil’s dry comment was accompanied by the scuffling of his shoes over the cracked tiles.

You grinned, triumphantly holding out the speaker you had fished from the bag. That was the only pro you could think of that came from your earlier practice, and no time in between that and the disastrous party.

“Lucky for you, I came prepared,” you showcased it like a spoil of war and turned the speaker on, awaiting the sound confirming it had connected to your phone. When it came, you ceremoniously placed the device on the vacated seat and pressed play on your phone. Only once the music was playing, you turned back towards Neil with a flourish, “Voila,”

It took him an additional second to identify the song, the synthesizer filling the empty platform with a special kind of vibe. When the proper beat kicked in, you started shimmying your hips and shoulders to the rhythm, awaiting Neil’s reaction. You were not disappointed when he gaped at you with joy barely disguised underneath a frown:

“Really?” still, his foot started tapping with the singer’s voice.

Shrugging, you spun around him, feeling the music fill your body like it always did. You always felt the most alive when dancing. When your feet were following the choreography, and head was deliciously empty of everything but the musical notes and lyrics.

When you stopped to meet Neil’s gaze, you found him staring back in awe.

“What? It’s not me; it’s the holy spirit of the shuffle,” the song started heading towards the chorus, so you added the hand movements, orbiting around Neil and hoping to pull him along, “Can’t argue with it,”

‘Don't. Don't you want me?

You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me

Don't. Don't you want me?

You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me’

It was an all-time favourite. A bop you did not have the heart to resist whenever it came on. Now was not any different. Your lips started whispering the words as your body moved through the space, overcome with the feeling of dancing. At that moment, you were grateful for the sensible footwear your past self had chosen that morning. Sure, dancing in high heels was possible, but the Converse made for a much better choice. They slid along the cracked tiles without resistance, allowing you to double the efforts.

It did not matter that you had an audience. Or that it was a particularly attentive one, for you never once felt Neil look away. He was still staring, standing almost stock-still, save for how his feet tapped out the beat. That had to change.

‘Don't you want me, baby?

Don't you want me? Oh!’

You stopped, chest heaving and limbs still too giddy with the effort. You met Neil’s unwavering gaze over the space and mouthed the chorus, aware of the interpretations he could easily reach. That was fine, nothing you were opposed to. In a way, him noticing half your actions did have a tentative hope behind them would have saved you time. And words. But that was a thought for another time.

Once you heard the female vocals come in, you reached out towards him, yet again presenting Neil with your open hand. Yet again, he did not hesitate, letting you pull him close. When the distance had been eradicated, Neil placed his hand on your waist with an experimental level of timidity. As if he was still fully expecting the move to backfire. Silly goose. Your hand ventured up his chest to his shoulder as you steeled your frame into what was expected of ballroom dancing. The habits were hard to shake off, after all.

Despite the booming synthesizers and grooving rhythm, you let him lead you into a slow dance. With each step, Neil’s confidence seemed to grow, for his grip became firmer as he splayed his hand over the small of your back and pulled you closer. It did not matter that his technique would bring your snobbish teachers from ballet study to tears. What mattered was that you felt safe within his embrace, never shying away from Neil’s gaze as it stayed trained on your face. What also mattered was that the genuine smile was fixed on your face. Especially when the song was slowly ending, and Neil was not letting go. What a novelty that was. You worried that once you tasted it, it would be impossible to let go. To forget this careless feeling, encapsulated within a simple, tender hold and open, beautiful eyes.

“That was hardly a song for slow dancing,” when Neil spoke, the remark came upon a hesitant smile, so at odds with how sure his hand was within yours.

“We made do, didn’t we?” you could only offer him a smile, aware of the wobbly edges of your voice and the yearning of your treacherous heart.

Even with years of practice, it sometimes wanted what it could not get. Affection, namely. Or the tenderness that meant something, rather than the mindless touch of a loveless fuck. You hoped one day those two would disappear, leaving you perfectly satisfied with what you had.

As if aware of your dangerous thoughts, the song switch came at a perfect moment. The last beats of The Human League died down, replaced with an equally cheesy rhythm. If not worse. Neil’s reaction was instant. He stopped dancing abruptly, making you nearly miss stepping on his foot. Your eyes darted to his face as curiosity soared in your chest. The barely masked joy you found there only made that warmth in your heart feel like tongues of fire. You disentangled from the embrace to place your hand on his chest and push him back lightly:

“Come on, pretty boy. Show me what you’ve got,” you completed the encouragement with a wink and stepped back to give him space.

The hesitation stage lasted much less this time. Neil stared at you, evidently weighing the pros and cons of giving in, but as soon as Falco opened the song with the lines in German, he had made up his mind. It was your turn to be dumbfounded as you watched Neil thrash to the music, almost keeping up with the beat. He slid across the tiles, barely managing not to slip as Falco went on about Mozart and his flair.

‘Er war ein Virtuose, war ein Rockidol

Und alles rief: Come on and rock me Amadeus’

It was easy to say Neil got lost in the music as his lean body twisted and turned, claiming the space he was allowed to occupy. There was grace in his movement, as well as carelessness, perfectly balancing the dance into an ideal mixture. A rare spark of envy kindled in your chest as you did your best to ignore the question of what it must feel like to be this free. During the poor attempt at moonwalking as he circled you, you could no longer hold back the laugh. Neil’s hands weaved through the air as he threw his head back to shout the hook along with the singer. With each call of Amadeus’ name, the affection in your chest grew, becoming increasingly lethal. A show of that kind displayed not only his trust but also what kind of a man Neil could be if he got rid of his shyness and inhibitions. It was something you doubt you could ever forget.

And that could be a problem.

When the song drew to a close, and Neil’s heaving breaths alerted you that he was probably worn out with exertion, he stopped. The reverberating beats sunk into the background as you met his gaze, aware of the silly softness you could not eradicate from your eyes. Neil looked manic, his pupils dilated and irises sparkling. He was breathing hard, the exhaustion making him shrug off the jean jacket with impatience, so far that Neil did not bat an eyelid when the article landed on the dirty floor. The reveal of an old, worn-out t-shirt underneath that hugged his broad shoulders and biceps just right made your jaw fall slack.

That, too, could be a problem.

Despite the common sense screaming at you to look away, you stared on, aware of Neil gazing right back. A wiser person would have shaken awake in time to switch off the music and call this quits before any further damage could be done. But you were never the wiser person.

You looked on as the song switched into a different era of music, and gentle, cheesy chords of piano and percussion filled the platform with a ballad almost everyone knew. Neil was not any different. You noticed the change in his eyes, switching from playfulness to mild seriousness. As if he, too, knew your fates were being decided at that exact moment.

However, the results of those decisions would not be noticeable until much later.

Using Elvis’ crooning as a backup to help drown your thoughts, you reached out your hand towards Neil, repeating the invitation. It was up to him whether he wanted to take it. Just like everything else in your friendship. The eager hope was hard to nip in the bud. It itched and ached until you could hardly stand still, awaiting the sentencing for what felt like hours. At last, Neil closed the gap and took your proffered hand with an impassive look.

The second time bore all the experience of the first, making it easier to fall in place without hesitation. Neil clasped your hand in his and let his other arm wind around your waist, pulling you close. Much closer than before. Your hand found its way to his shoulder, curious fingers stroking the expanse of his neck, revealed by the t-shirt collar. You did your best not to notice the goosebumps rising on his skin. It was impossible to tell which of you moved first, leading into the gentle sway. Only once you started waltzing around the empty platform, it was impossible to stop.

‘Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?’

Halfway through the song, you tilted your head back from where your gaze had been trained on the expanse of his chest and met Neil’s waiting gaze. The shock passing through your system felt like a fatal blow. There was no denying the fact that this was a first. The first time you had ever danced like that with someone, motivated by nothing else but the desire to do it. There was also no denying the fact Neil’s watchful eyes and the soft strokes of his fingers, running along the expanse of your waist down to your hip, felt like nothing else you could have ever experienced before or after. It was well past your usual flirty chats and casual innuendos. Well past the daily playfulness of whatever it was blooming between you. It was well past the worn-out tracks and lived-in spaces.

Absolutely fucking terrifying.

‘Take my hand,

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

For I can't help falling in love with you’

It was impossible to say what had tipped the scales right then. Whether it was the song lyrics, drawing attention to all those things you would rather ignore till the end of time or the unwavering eye contact you had maintained as you spun across the space with grace that had not been there previously. Or whether it was due to how Neil held you steadily, all the while allowing himself to stare, eyes roaming over your face in a meticulous study. But perhaps it was just a trick of fate, a sudden loss of reason and logic that made you tip forward and give in to the gravitational pull of his orbit. Perhaps Neil was guilty of the same thing.

Before you knew what had failed and why, you were close enough to feel the gasp of his breath fan across your face. The air ghosted your lips as your nose brushed against Neil’s, and the time slowed to a crawling speed. There was no denying the fact that you wanted it. The want hummed underneath your skin and made it hard to think clearly.

You only knew that Neil closed his eyes, and his sharp intake of breath hit your lips, making you tilt forward. Making it oh so easy to let go and-

“This is Piccadilly Line service towards the Heathrow Airport,” the PA system crackled to life, forcing you to separate as if burned.

You blinked awake, barely noticing the train slowing at the platform and the music still playing from your speaker. One glance at Neil told you all feelings were very much mutual. It was a close call. So close you could almost feel the kiss that never happened. An uncertain smile played upon your lips as you turned off the music and jumped aboard the train. You could only hope the King of the Rock’N’Roll himself was wrong about this one.

***

It was a well-known truth that a pretty boy could make you a little stupid. Stupid enough to do things that, under normal circumstances, would be off the table. But all it took was a flash of blue eyes and a charming smile, and boom, logic gone, reason decimated. Usually, there was a price to pay for that.

But the potential costs meant nothing in the face of the revelations the Saturday night brought. Namely, the kiss that never happened but you could easily dream of. Which you did, just to brighten up the restless sleep. Needless to say, that night unlocked some things. Things that perhaps were best left untouched. But hindsight was a gift you did not yet possess.

Instead, you battled with a single idea that was difficult to eradicate. Sure, that night, or how it had almost ended, was never mentioned again. As early as the next day Neil reached out to you and set the tone you were happy to follow. But the memory remained, nagging at your brain for a week and not once letting go. It was a seed that planted another thought. The thought that nothing was preventing you from reaching out for more. That there was no script to follow with Neil. That idea was like a brainworm making a home inside your skull.

Because, yes, you were known to be a little stupid for attractive boys. And Neil was potentially the most beautiful man you have ever met. That proved to be a problem.

Exactly a week after that Saturday, you caved in. The autumn breeze was hitting your face and tangling your hair as you stared at the Thames. There was no better place to start a catastrophic chain of events than the Blackfriars Bridge. Or so you told yourself. You took out the phone to stare at the messages and opened the text conversation with Neil. It took an additional fortifying breath to start typing out the proposition and start the exchange.

/ 🏹, 5:39 pm/ So, I figured, since we already broke the rules on our hangouts last Saturday

/ 🏹, 5:40 pm/ Would you like to grab coffee tomorrow?

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ That’s unexpected.

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ Why the sudden change of heart?

/ 🏹, 5:46 pm/ I liked your moves.

/✝️, 5:47 pm/ I’m pretty sure no one’s ever said that to me.

/ 🏹, 5:49 pm/ Maybe they just weren’t looking. I knew I was.

/✝️, 5:51 pm/ Okay, yeah. I’d like that.

/✝️, 5:52 pm/ Any labels I should be aware of?

/ 🏹, 5:52 pm/ Nah, fuck the labels.

/ 🏹, 5:53 pm/ Unless you want to bring me flowers. Then let’s call it a date.

/✝️, 5:55 pm/ Then it’s a date 😘

You stared at the phone long after the screen went dark. Along with the buzzing joy and anticipation of what tomorrow would bring, there was also an eternal question. The question you had avoided pretty damn well so far. What the fuck have you done?

***

By the time you were meeting Neil in a café (chosen because of its perfect location between St. John’s Wood and Swiss Cottage), those nerves of anticipation had transformed into anxiety. The worst was that you did not even know what you were so nervous about. A date (that was not really a date) was nothing new. You have done it many times before, usually to great results. But suddenly, when Neil was inserted into the equation, all that you got was uncertainty. And a strong fear of fucking it up. It did not make for a good mix.

Part of it dissipated once you turned the street corner and saw him waiting in front of the café, a bouquet in hand, despite your line being nothing more than a throwaway joke. An affectionate smile was impossible to get rid of no matter how hard you may have tried. It stayed as you closed the remaining distance and met Neil’s gaze. Then it got transformed into a stupid grin as your eyes scanned him head to toe (hair just as messy as always, leather and jeans completed with sneakers – in other words: fucking hot). Once that foolery was complete, you could shift your attention to the flowers, now held out in your direction like a sheepish offering.

It was a colourful bouquet of wildflowers, freshly bloomed and coming from a florist rather than Sainsbury’s. The thoughtfulness was enough to make you blush. Before you could delve into an embarrassing attempt at cover-up, Neil broke the silence:

“You haven’t specified what kind of flowers,” his shyness was easily seen from the fidgeting hands and eyes unwilling to stay on your face longer than necessary.

That was your cue to get yourself together and accept the bouquet with a courtesy. That, too, was just a trick to drag that shy smile onto his face. It worked.

“Those are perfect, thank you,” with another smile, you turned towards the entrance and went in as Neil held the door. It was a cosy café with only a few tables and a bar-service ordering. You motioned towards the smiling server behind the counter with a question, “Wanna go order coffee?”

You did not expect in response to your innocent ask for Neil to come to a strange stand-still in the middle of the entryway and measure you with a look that spoke volumes about him having something to say and no way of expressing it. You raised your eyebrow, urging the words to come out and save you from death by perplexation.

After a beat, Neil seemingly found the ability to speak again and stumbled through a sentence:

“I’ve got… uh… a thing,” the emphasis on the final word was accompanied by an awkward shift, his hand automatically reaching up to comb through his hair and messing it up even more.

That did not help. At all. You blinked, aware of the comedy role you had just been awarded without warning. You were vaguely conscious of the server’s gaze, undoubtedly staring at the spectacle presented with fascination.

“Jesus, what thing?” when Neil did not elaborate, you prodded with another question, gaining a slightly hysterical edge.

It was probably that tone which made the most impact. Neil seemed to wake up, his hands gesturing as he attempted to explain:

“A thing about figuring out people’s drink order,” he shrugged, almost as if already embarrassed by ever bringing it up; that would not do, “Like a-”

“A kink?” you interrupted his explanation with a devilish grin, knowing that it would do the job.

That and the teasing, of course.

The reaction was instantaneous. Where previously there had been mild shyness and uncertainty, the furious blush had bloomed. Neil looked horrified as he took a step in your direction as if considering sealing your mouth shut before finally admitting defeat. What you got instead was a glare and an affronted reply:

“What? No! More like talent, I guess,” Neil shrugged, visibly battling the dilemma you were not privy to. You decided to help him the best way you knew how – by reaching out and squeezing his hand. Once. Just once. It was enough to do the job and make your fingers itch with an inexplicable desire to prolong the contact. Luckily, it disappeared when Neil recovered from his internal crisis and gestured towards the counter, “May I?”

You could only nod, happy that whatever had just transpired was past you. Not that it was not fun, but because of the audience that did not deserve to see what had happened. Whatever it was.

“You’ve got me intrigued, so now you have to,” shrugging upon Neil’s hesitant smile, you ventured inside the café, scouting for a perfect table.

Soon enough, the ideal booth had been located and taken as you awaited Neil’s return. You did not have to wait long, for as soon as you settled and placed your coat on the backrest, he sat in the chair in front. That sheepish smile was still in place, so you tried to bring back his confidence with dumb chitchat until you were interrupted by the server approaching your table. It worked. As you both fell quiet, Neil was visibly fighting a grin threatening to transform his face. The pride surged in your veins without respect towards your sense of humility.

The woman shot you both a bright smile as she set neared the table and put a steaming porcelain cup in front of Neil:

“Flat White for you, sir, and for your girlfriend-” you never got to hear the end of that sentence as Neil’s horrified expression and a loud interruption stole your attention.

“Oh, we’re not-” your laughter was almost enough to drown out his protest.

Almost because the server still looked extremely apologetic as she placed a larger cup in front of you with a clink.

“-Caramel Macchiato,” you waved off the atonement she seemed ready to launch and smiled, the curiosity at his choice already occupying your mind.

“Thank you,” as soon as the woman was out of earshot, you turned your cheeky smile onto Neil and covered his hand resting on the table with your palm, “Are you ashamed of me, my darling?” your favourite blush spread upon his cheeks, widening your grin in the process.

A blunder like that was not something you would ever lose sleep over. Even less so, considering that you were there with Neil. Even with your deep-rooted dislike over anything that had to do with relationships and the complications they lead to, you could not possibly be angry over being perceived as belonging to Neil. If anything, it was flattering.

“Stop it,” he shook off your hand, way too gently, and shook his head as if desperate to clear it, “I just didn’t-” after a beat, he dropped your gaze, giving up the fight, “It doesn’t matter, sorry” although you would do anything to understand the thought processes unfolding behind those slightly vacant blue eyes, you were not given a chance. Instead, he took a fortifying sip of coffee and looked at your cup, (not so) swiftly changing the topic “So… how did I do?” the anticipation in that gaze offered no space for a bargain.

You glanced at the beverage in front of you and slowly raised it to get a tentative taste. The warm liquid slightly burned your tongue, but before you could mourn the damage, the caffeine and creamy caramel filled your mouth with pleasurable goodness. It was a top-notch choice, making you follow that first sip with another almost without a break. Burned tongue be damned.

“Very good, actually,” raising your head, you met Neil’s proud smile. It was a much better look than the embarrassed expression from earlier, motivating you to add, “Maybe you should try getting into BGT with that talent,” you winked at him, even if to prolong the blush, which had begun to fade.

But also because it was fun to compliment him, considering that you meant every word and because of your suspicions that Neil did not get them often. That alone was a travesty, in your opinion.

“Very funny,” rolling his eyes at you with a happy smile tucked in the corner of his lips, Neil looked even better.

It was easy enough a conclusion that lightness and happiness were a good look on him. Especially when you were the cause. You tried not to let that go into your head, but… Well.

“I know,” you matched his smile with a smirk of your own, “Hysterical,” with the perfect pause to take another sip of the glorious coffee, you shifted the topic, “How was the week at the clergy?”

Without Neil’s continuous amused reactions to the same old joke, you would have dropped it by now. But how could you if it still got a laugh out of him each time? You couldn’t let opportunities like that slip by. No chance.

This time, Neil hid the joyous huff of laughter in the coffee cup as he pondered the answer.

“It’s been good. Fine,” a noncommittal shrug offered no room for guessing what it was that he did, which was still a mystery, but you counted wins where you could find them, “A bit busy, but what can you do. I might have a work trip coming up soon, so…” it was only when the second part of his reply was processed by your brain, currently preoccupied with staring at Neil’s mouth (which was a very normal state of mind to have), that you perked up.

That was important information. For two contrasting reasons. One was that whatever Neil did for work involved work trips, and that narrowed down the field, albeit barely. Two was that it would mean he would not be around every Wednesday, ready to meet you. That second deduction took hold of your heart with the icy grasp of disappointment.

“So, no more Wednesday meetups?” it was impossible to keep the sadness out of your tone as you settled a wary gaze on Neil.

Sure, it was survivable. But where would be the fun in it?

It was not fun to see that same apprehension creep into Neil’s eyes.

“Yeah, but only like… for a few weeks,” from his sudden dislike of eye contact, you guessed that the estimation might have been an understatement. Though you did hope he was not lying. The pitiful look must have been still present on your face, for Neil followed the statement with reassurance, “I’m sure you’ll survive without me,” he hesitated for a millisecond before returning your previous gesture and giving your hand a comforting pat.

You did not move it away, the pleasant warmth and weight of his palm seeping through your skin and soothing the sudden spell of sadness. It was difficult not to let that inexplicable feeling lead you into the deep end as it was not something you understood. It settled in the darkest cavern of your heart and accompanied its beat with its foreboding presence. There was no choice but to push past it.

“I don’t know, I’m going to miss you,” the confession felt dangerously light on your tongue as you registered Neil’s reaction. His beautiful eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he quickly dropped your gaze, choosing to stare at the table instead. The only sign that you were heard was how his thumb stroked your hand repeatedly, “I hope you’ll be back before the premiere,” using the only way you knew of lightening the conversation, you made sure to slip in a playful tone.

Ever since the day you had shared joyous news with Neil, he often asked about the preparations for the ballet. He seemed genuinely interested in the process, the rehearsals, and your impressions at every stage.

When you innocently hinted at a costume fitting in your texts Neil immediately asked for a picture. You complied, gleefully posing in the dressing room mirror wearing the whole get-up, complete with pointe shoes, tights, and a white ballet tutu with the accents of blue flower petals. All in all, you had the right to believe that Neil would be interested in coming to see the ballet when it premiered. You had that covered.

“I’ll do my best,” his hopeful smile was enough to distract you, for soon Neil followed it with a question, “Do I get an invite?”

The cheeky smile was back in full force, almost wiping you off the surface of the Earth. More of that, please. Feeling brave, you slowly tangled your fingers with his to raise your joined hands from the tabletop and squeezed his palm. It was a silly question to ask. You had to make sure Neil knew that.

“Well, duh,” you started with an eye roll, taking pleasure from the feel of his hand holding yours, “I’m going to need a personal cheerleader for when I fail big time,” it was a rare thing to hear you admit the fear and anxieties out loud.

Most of the time, they only existed in your mind, never expressed. And especially not in a conversation because that fear of someone else confirming all you feared was overwhelming. It was better to appear invincible to the world than to let them know your weaknesses. Somehow this logic did not want to apply itself to Neil. No, he has heard it all. And yet, he did not seem keen on confirming you were right to doubt yourself.

“That’s not going to happen. You’ll be the perfect Cupid,” punctuating the encouragement with a squeeze of the hand, Neil shot you a brilliant grin.

The nickname was growing on you. It was also the cause of a few silly smiles during the rehearsals when you were addressed with your character role. That was alright, too.

Now, with the force of his beautiful smile shining upon you like a rare beacon of hope, you tried your hardest not to let the praise consume you whole. Instead, you turned to the faithful vice of sarcasm as you let go of his hand and settled your chin on your folded palms. Eyelashes and doe eyes in full force. Naturally.

“Wow, my charms must be working if you’re this blindsided,” curling the corner of your mouth in a smirk, your eyes roamed over his face in familiar patterns.

It was refreshing to remember why you invited him out in the first place. Why you have decided to break the unwritten role and step on the line you both had been tiptoeing from day one. Why nothing was holding you back from reaching for what you wanted.

This time, Neil did not turn away from your taxing gaze and met it head-on. Almost as if permitting you to proceed with whatever you desired.

“You’ve no idea, sweetheart,” mirroring your tentative smirk, Neil offered you a wink and picked up the coffee cup.

You were certainly not going to eschew a chance like that.

***

As far as first dates (could he even call it that?) went, meeting up for coffee and letting the conversations run without a disaster somewhere in between was rare. Even rarer still considering that Neil did not know how he got to this point and whether it was not all a dream. The jury was out on that. Even though Sunday was now two days ago, the meeting was still fresh in his mind, posing a thousand questions.

Because he really did not know how he got that place. The only certainty was that sometime between the surprising Saturday night meeting at Leicester Square station and the day after, Cupid made up her mind and chose to strike. Alternatively, she decided to act considering the realisations he was not privy to. Sure, that night at the station almost ended with a kiss. He knew that. He was there. But it did not offer answers as towards why an almost kiss made her behave in contrast to what Neil thought he understood about her.

Because a date was definitely a step above flirting. And it was hard to understand what that meant. If anything at all.

Now, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, Neil stared out the window of the HQ cafeteria and tried his hardest not to think about it (her) for a change. It was not going well, as one could expect. From the corner of his eye, he could tell Ives was staring. Those piercing blue eyes (bluer than his, which has once or twice been proved during a night out as those things usually are) have been glancing his way instead of focusing on the sandwich on his plate. What a prick (affectionate). After what felt like a fiftieth glance, Neil dropped the napkin onto his place with force and turned towards Ives with a glare. The patience has worn out.

“Oh, just spit it out,” Neil hissed the words with ire.

The grin spreading upon Ives’ lips did not help a bit. The soldier leaned forward, abandoning his food and setting the perceptive eyes upon his friend. Mercilessly. With years of friendship, Neil knew this was not ending well.

“I haven’t said a word,” the man shrugged; a picture-perfect nonchalance.

If only.

“But you’ve been staring,” Neil’s attempt at covering up the tension with a bored tone failed.

He knew that as soon as he saw Ives’ unimpressed smile. There were no doubts about where this conversation was heading. It was the interrogation Neil had feared from day one. It was only a matter of time. Damn it.

“Go ask Henrik. Maybe he can help you gauge my eyes,” in moments like this, Ives’ cockney accent came out in full force, tearing at the shreds of patience Neil seemed to have.

Despite himself, he cracked a smile at the comeback.

“Doubtful,” quickly hiding it in the sip of tea, Neil muttered a quip of his own.

While Henrik, the team’s medic, was a peculiar man, it was improbable he would be into that kind of thing. Unfortunately.

“Eh, I wouldn’t put it past him,” before he could hope this was the end of the conversation, Ives levelled him with another no-bullshit look and delivered the sentence in four simple words, “Mate, spit it out,”

If only it were that easy. For one, Neil did not even know what there was to tell. Sure, he has met a girl. He was probably thinking too much about said girl daily. But that was it. The end of the story. Pathetic, as per usual.

“I’d rather not,” as the last resort of keeping his dignity intact, Neil averted his gaze and fixed his stare on the dirty floor of the cantina.

A solitary potato chip was lying there, attracting attention. For one, maddening second, his brain tried to concoct an elaborate metaphor in which he was like that lonely, forgotten chip on the ground.

Thankfully, the idea was soon dispersed by his irreplicable companion and his booming voice, cutting through the idiotic thoughts:

“I beg to differ,” the hint of reassurance in Ives’ voice was responsible for luring Neil into listening, just as the soldier delivered the question, “What’s her name? His name? Their name?”

Admittedly, the inclusive way of asking was a nice touch from someone who frequently lacked decorum. Or, more accurately, did not bother with it. It was that addition that made Neil crack, with the final resolve crumbling as he tried to protest:

“There’s no- Cupid,” giving out a tired sigh, Neil finally raised his head and repeated the nickname with something ridiculously close to the softness of affection, “I call her Cupid,”

It made no sense. He knew that. But it did not help that whenever he thought of her, that stupid, embarrassing part of his heart was roused awake from periodical slumber. So much for being reasonable.

As soon as Ives whistled lowly and that familiar sardonic grin appeared on his face, Neil knew it was a mistake.

“Kinky,” his murderous glare got ignored in favour of another pressing question, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Lucky was definitely an overstatement if you asked Neil. But he did not fancy getting into the specifics of the relationships yet. Instead, he happily let himself delve back into memories of that first meeting. He still could not find other apt ways to describe it than a strike of fate. Dramatic? Sure, that was his second name.

He did doubt that Ives would appreciate the insane poetic ruminations, however.

“I’ve met her at the Tube, and she’s a ballerina… Pretty fucking cool, at that” that was a non-negotiable fact. Period.

Yet from the way his friend stared at him, Neil could easily deduct that here, too, he sounded like the insane idiot that he was. An idiot that finds friends on the Tube and lets that develop into something else. Something he tried very hard not to define. It was going splendidly well. Of course.

“Uh oh,” as if reading his mind, Ives, the prick, pasted on a silly grin and bated his eyelashes down at him, continuing the interrogation, “Is that a crush I’m sensing?”

Fuck. That was, indeed, a mistake.

Not that there was a crush because there absolutely wasn’t anything of that sort. Idiot, he might have been, but not… No. No. Which is exactly why Neil had to pause to cover his face with his hands and let out a deep sigh. Conveniently ignoring Ives and his bullshit assumptions.

Only once he felt like the annoyance had simmered to an acceptable white noise, Neil dropped the hands covering his face and met his destiny in the form of an infuriating sardonic smile.

“No, she’s just… I’m fascinated, okay? I’ve never met anyone like her before, and we’ve got a good thing going with weekly chats and… stuff,” running out of steam, Neil let the last word trail off into silence.

He knew what it all sounded like. He did. Except that there was no better way of describing it (them) to the outside world. And he was certainly not keen on showing Ives the texts. Not after the last conversation this morning, which involved more innuendos and another rendition of What socks are you wearing? - his favourite game. Truly. What made the exchange more incriminating, however, was the fact that Cupid’s current socks brandished an image of an adorable pug with a caption: “Send dog pics”. Yeah, that. That was a theme he was so far happy to ignore. Kind of.

“Did you kiss her yet?” another ridiculous question acted like a wake-up call as Neil felt the loathed, crimson blush fill his cheeks.

“What is this? Middle school?” another outburst got met with a stoically blank face, not helping to ease the shame of being so goddamn transparent “No, I didn’t,” I wish, “We danced” offering the alternative lowkey felt like self-sacrifice.

Not because Neil was embarrassed of what had happened that Saturday night but because it stayed a secret to anyone who was not him or Cupid. At least, that is what she told him, much to inexplicable surprise, which he could not and would not try to understand.

“I never knew you dance,” the soldier’s remark, as always, missed the mark.

Annoyance at the whole world, at this rate, rose at a steady pace. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that Neil was frustrated at the circumstances of the relationship with the woman in question, but it was too soon for self-realisation to do its work.

“Of course, I do,” instead, it was the distant feel of pity that nagged at the edges of his soul as Neil allowed the dismissive reflection to be voiced without the veil of fake pep, “Anyway, none of it matters. She’s not into relationships, so…” he shrugged, aware of the pitiful picture.

In a way, it was easier to know that about her ahead of time. It was perfect information to push at his brain and heart whenever they got too comfortable with the situation. To remind them (and himself) that it was not going anywhere, and it never would.

But, for some infuriating reason, the heart tended to be a stubborn beast holding no regard for facts. Not that heart had anything to do with this just yet. Of course not. Neil just… liked her. As a human being likes another human being. Platonically.

“Surely, your roguish charm will convince her otherwise,” as expected, Ives looked as if he was trying very hard not to feel sorry for him and was failing.

The reassurance hardly worked if Neil was being honest. The existence of said roguish charm was highly debatable. But who was he to argue?

“Nah, it’s fine. I can be just friends with her” manifesting much, or whatever. It was a blessing to have a different topic to switch to, “Anyway, I’m not going to see her for the next couple of weeks since we’re leaving,” another attempt at a nonchalant shrug got lost in the heaviness Neil could not shake off if he tried.

Going off on a mission right now, in the middle of it all, was far from ideal. Neil liked his job, loved it even, but then, some operations felt like a drag from the moment they appeared on his desk. That was one of them.

“Yeah, Lisbon is on,” from the tiredness written all over Ives’ face, Neil could tell the lack of enthusiasm was shared, “Two weeks, but it might be longer,”

“Great,” sarcasm dripped from the word as Neil glanced at his friend and asked, “We’re going to bunk together?”

It was only half a joke. Because only the company made the perspective of that mission seem a little less daunting.

“You wish, love,” the answering grin on Ives’ face was the perfect punchline to the dramatic conversation. The soldier got up from the table with another quip, “You know I’m not into blondes,” he walked away without another glance, yet the laugh he elicited from Neil could be heard in the room above the cantina.

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