#i had plans to do i hate it here and I still do

[jomteaaa]

you fall first, but he falls harder

a/n: i can only write fluff, so please trust me that it's fluff. there's like, one usage of 'she', timeskip spoilers, and a bit of language. it's my longest fic yet (which isn't saying much), no beta we die like daichi

you don't know that tsukishima kei knows about your crush on him. it's so damn obvious, how you turn red so easily when he's around. unfortunately for you, though, he doesn't reciprocate, nor does he bother confronting you about it. you are his closest friend other than yamaguchi, and as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn't want to lose you as one. it's so tedious, anyways.

---

"it's our last year in karasuno, do you have anything planned?" you ask as you lay on the floor of tsukishima's room. you're supposed to be studying, since it was what you came over to do with kei and tadashi, but you gave up somewhere halfway in geography.

"it is my last year, but who knows about you? you've been slacking so much, you'd probably have to repeat a year. and could you get up?" he sighs and nudges your side with his foot.

"asshole," you mutter, cheeks growing red. if you know that he just dodged your question, you don't do anything about it. "just you wait, i'll enroll into kyoto university and make you eat your words, beanpole."

"sure." his reply drips with sarcasm, but he doesn't doubt that you can make it far. there's a knock at the door.

"sorry for being late!"

"tadashi!!"

---

kei knows you can read him like an open book. you can tell he's having a bad day just by a conversation with him through text. he also knows that when he says that he doesn't want to talk, you immediately ring his phone.

the first time it happened, he had tried to decline your calls, or just ignore it entirely, but you're insistent. eventually he picked it up, filled with pure irritation at that point.

"could you--"

"i'm heading over. i promise i won't push for any details. i'll even get strawberry shortcake on the way." you immediately stated. he paused to mull it over.

"fine, but if the cake sucks, i'm kicking you out." it's safe to say that the cake was good enough to make this a habit. at this point, tsukshima doesn't even know why you still call him to let him know you're coming over. the both of you know you will no matter what.

so here you are, sitting on his bedroom floor with him and eating desserts in silence, save for the music playing softly from his computer.

"you're gonna get in trouble with your parents when they realise you snuck out." he remarks. you shrug your shoulders, stuffing the remaining taiyaki in your mouth.

"i know."

"don't eat with your mouth full." you roll your eyes with a furious blush. somehow, you being here with him becomes sweeter than the strawberry shortcake.

---

you were there when tsukishima made the decision to go professional with volleyball.

his last match as karasuno's middle blocker had ended. his body was sore all over, but somehow the freak duo managed to convince him and yamaguchi to play one more match back at school, just the four of them with yachi. but even with landing third in nationals and a final intimate match with his teammates, he still somehow feels so unsatisfied.

the walk home with you was silent. he was grateful you didn't say anything. he couldn't handle anymore questions about how he was feeling when he himself was unsure. it was when you two stepped outside the convenience store after getting ice cream did he come to the conclusion that he never wants to have a last match.

"i'm not going to give up on volleyball after graduation." he announced out of the blue. you were caught off guard for a bit, before grinning at him. "i expected that."

"why?"

"you call hinata and kageyama freaks for being so insane about volleyball, but you don't even realise that you're just as equally crazy about it as them." you said it so nonchalantly as you eat your ice cream, like you're stating a fact. now it was his turn to be taken off guard. he took a while to let it settle in before chuckling softly.

he should have known that you know him better than he does himself.

---

it's graduation day. tsukishima and kageyama are stuck with their four teary-eyed friends by their side. kei awkwardly pats your head, not knowing how to comfort you. you laugh at his feeble attempt, your rosy cheeks burning red. have you always been this cute? in the midst of all the bittersweet interactions, you get distracted by something on your phone, and let out a gasp.

"what is it, (name)?" yamaguchi asks. you're trembling slightly, and tsukishima grows worried.

"i, uh, got into kyoto university," you say in disbelief. "i actually got in!" everyone congratulates you, but you only care about one thing.

"tsukki, remember that day i told you i'd make you eat your words?" he hums in acknowledgement. you shove the acceptance email in his face, but he can only focus on how proud you look with that shit-eating smirk. "what do you have to say now, beanpole?"

he smiles. that's my best friend right there.

"nothing."

---

you were gone before the new year, and kei was handling your absence well until semester started. he had believed it'd be fine, you were only across the country, not across the world. plus, you promised you would call as often as you could.

but he doesn't sees you in his classes anymore, and you don't come over when he's having a bad day. he got himself strawberry shortcake to lighten his mood like it usually does, but he only feels hollow. it doesn't help that since he's going pro, his volleyball training is almost everyday now, and with your commitments, he rarely gets to call you anymore. it hurts like hell inside.

"hey tsukki, you've been off recently. is everything ok?" tadashi calls him one day.

"i'm fine, yamaguchi." kei lies. tadashi isn't convinced.

"does it have something to do with (name) being in kyoto?"

"why would you say that?" he answered too quickly for his liking.

"well, you bring (name) up quite a bit, and when you realise she isn't there, you get all quiet and snappy." tsukishima is about to retort back, but then it hits him.

oh shit, he's in love.

---

the day you finally return back to miyagi to visit, tsukishima waits at the station with yamaguchi. kei's eyes are constantly searching the crowd and flickering to his watch every so often.

"tsukki, relax, she'll be here soon." he ignores tadashi's reassurance.

tsukishima kei is a composed man, always able to think before he acts. but when he catches sight of you, he runs. before you can register anything, he hugs you, gripping onto you like a lifeline, like he will die if he lets go of you.

"tsukki--"

"gosh, i missed you so much, you idiot." he knows you could have easily lost feelings for him when you were away.

"wha--"

"i've suffered so much because of your stupid, dumb ass." he doesn't care.

"wait--"

"i like you, so go out with me before you have to head back to kyoto." you're back, and he's scared to lose you again. every second you stay quiet, the louder his heart beats in his ears.

"really?" you finally say, your voice barely over a whisper.

"yea." another pause.

"guess i'm yours then, beanpole."

bonus:

"you know, i knew about your crush back in high school."

"what the heck?"

"you didn't necessarily hide it well."

"then i'll have you know that yamaguchi told me everything that happened when i've been gone."

"...fuck."

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 17 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna is giving herself one last chance to get her manuscript before she moves on without it. She has friends, a job she loves, and a man who believes in her. There's nothing else she really needs now, but she's going all in on a plan that is perhaps just crazy enough to work.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, espionage, adult language, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Bob watched Anna emerge from the bathroom in one of Jessica's cocktail dresses after he picked her up from work and brought her back to his house. "I'm thinking this one?" she asked, turning back and forth in front of his bedroom mirror while wearing the black and white dress. It was a little snug and also a bit short on her compared to how it would probably fit Jessica, but he thought she looked incredible.

"Yeah," Bob agreed, standing behind her and zipping it up. "It's perfect." Seeing her in wedding rings was startling to him, and he had to remind himself over and over again that she had borrowed them as a cover. As part of the ruse. That they belonged to his friend. That she wasn't reconciling with Kevin. "What time do we need to be at the hotel?" he asked, running his hand along her hip as she started to clip her hair up onto her head.

"Eight o'clock," she confirmed. "The cocktail reception lasts from eight until ten, and there's no way Kevin will want to miss a single minute with all of these people who seemingly worship him."

Bob tightened his hold on her, his distaste for Kevin clearly written on his face as he looked in the mirror over her shoulder. She told him he needed to change out of his uniform, so he was wearing a plain undershirt and jeans. He looked a bit ridiculous next to Anna as she swiped some eyeliner on in the shape of a cat-eye before coating her lips in a deep red stain.

"That's pretty," he whispered, and he was rewarded with her turning around to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving her perfect lip marks behind. He didn't bother to wipe it away. He was so thankful she wasn't trying to do this on her own, even though she seemed calm and confident. He didn't want Kevin to have even the slightest opportunity to be alone with her. "You'll call me if you need me to come in," he said.

"Yes," she confirmed for probably the fifth time. "I'll keep my phone on me."

"And you'll get out of there if you don't feel safe?"

Anna nodded up at him, looking so beautiful with a soft smile on her lips. "Yes. My manuscript is not as important as I am."

Bob kissed her deeply. She finally got it. She tried to swipe at the lipstick smudged on his mouth, but they left his house hand in hand with some of the stain left on his lips. He helped her into his truck and took his time driving up to Carlsbad as she navigated along the way for him. When he reached for her hand, she laced her fingers with his, and he chuckled.

"I kind of hate her rings on you," he muttered. "I wonder what Bradley had to say about that one."

Anna made a face when he glanced her way. "I'm sure he's still asking her to explain where they went, and the more she says my name, the unhappier he's going to be with me."

"Nah," Bob replied as he made a left turn. "You're one of us."

She squeezed his hand. "That still sounds almost too good to be true. And we do need to return her rings tonight so he doesn't have a full panic attack."

"That sounds fair," he murmured, looking for a place to stop his truck and let her out. The swanky hotel where Kevin's medical conference was being held was just up the block, and now his heart was pounding.

"This is perfect," she told him, pointing out the window before unbuckling her seatbelt. "Just leave me off right here." He put the truck in park, but when she tried to pull her hand away, he held on tighter. She paused and looked at him before leaning in to kiss his cheek and saying, "I got this, Bob. It's okay." When she tried once more to get out of his truck, he tugged her closer to him. "You have to let me-"

"Anna, I love you."

She froze at his announcement, but he was getting tired of not telling her. He'd been thinking it for ages. He thought he almost lost her before, and he wasn't going to let Kevin of all people potentially ruin her night without her knowing she at least had him to come back to. So as she crawled across the seat toward him, he repeated himself. "I love you."

Anna climbed onto his lap as her lips met his cheek and his chin. "I want to listen to you say that all night," she whispered, finally kissing his lips. "And I want to spend an hour telling you all about how much I love you. But I need about thirty minutes to get shit done first."

Bob laughed as he nipped at her smiling lips. "No rush. I'll still love you in thirty minutes." He would probably still love her in thirty years, and he was more than willing to tell her that later. But right now he had to accept one last kiss from her before he watched her hop down from his truck, put Jessica's high heels on, and start to head for the hotel entrance.

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

"You can do this," Anna told herself as she tried not to stumble in the shoes that were a half size too small with heels which were way too high. "Just stay focused." But Bob loved her! He said it, and he meant it, and now all she wanted was to run back to his truck. But this was her last chance.

It was ten minutes after eight. Kevin's schedule was giving her enough time to get what she wanted, but only if it went smoothly. Anna had never been much of an actress, but in this exact moment, she needed to pull off an Emmy winning performance if she stood a chance at getting into Kevin's room. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders as she walked into the beautiful lobby, opened her clutch purse, and pouted in frustration. "Oh no," she muttered loudly. There were a lot of people around, chatting and heading to the bar just past the concierge desk. She threw her head back in faux annoyance and marched in the terrible shoes toward the counter.

"How can I help you this evening?" asked the young man behind the desk with a smile.

Anna sighed and set her clutch down and glanced at his name tag. She made sure the rings on her finger were shining under the light as she said, "In my rush to get to the wine bar down the block in time for cocktail hour, I left my new necklace and my key card in my room. Think you could print me a new one, Marcus? My husband just gifted me the necklace and expects me to be wearing it."

"Of course, Mrs...."

"Webber. Mrs. Kevin Webber. We're here for the Neurological conference. My husband is a keynote speaker." She had to fight back the urge to choke on the words as she forced a smile. 

"Right," Marcus replied, tapping away on his keyboard. "Webber.... I found the reservation, but it's only under your husband's name."

When he looked up and met her eyes, Anna wanted to run away, climb back into Bob's truck and give up. Her heart was pounding as she tapped her fingers on the counter and rolled her eyes. "He always does that when he books a room for work. But I'm definitely linked to his rewards account."

She tried to keep her face neutral as she awaited a response. There was no way Kevin would have taken the time to update anything so trivial. He was never one to take the time to update anything. That always fell to Anna. She watched Marcus start typing again as he said, "I'll just need to check your ID, Mrs. Webber."

"Absolutely," she replied coolly, pulling her New Jersey state driver's license that was about to expire from her clutch and setting it down for him. The longer he typed away, the more she started to panic. She wondered if Kevin was already having his first drink at the bar or if he had moved on to his second. As long as he was there, it didn't much matter to her what he was doing.

Finally, Marcus pulled a new key card from the drawer in front of him, programmed it and tucked it into an envelope. He conveniently wrote #609 on it and slid it toward her. "Is there anything else I can do for you this evening Mrs. Webber?"

She shook her head, picked up her license and the key and said, "I think this is all I need. Thank you, Marcus."

Anna turned toward the bank of elevators and counted each step. One, two, three, four, five.... She tried to keep her pace as unhurried as she could while still getting away from the desk quickly. She pushed the little up arrow and waited for the elevator to arrive while she glanced around the lobby to be sure there was nobody who had taken notice of her. When the elevator got there, she ducked inside and pushed the button for floor six and pulled her phone out to text Bob.

I got the key. I'm in the elevator.

When she arrived at the correct floor, she put her phone away and held onto the key card with shaking hands. She could do this. She knew she could. But one step onto the plush carpet, and she stumbled in Jessica's high heels. "Shit," she gasped, reaching for the wall as the elevator doors slid closed behind her. Could she really take Kevin's computer? Technically speaking, it was hers, too. They picked it out together. When he started medical school. She paid for it with her credit card. The one he then maxed out.

She pushed herself off from the wall, more pissed off than upset. Kevin didn't deserve her concern at the moment. He deserved nothing. Room 609. She found it down the left side of the hallway. Just as she raised the key card to swipe it, the door jerked open an inch, and she gasped. Fingers wrapped around the door from the inside as it opened slowly, and she ran as fast as she could for the stairwell, tucking herself inside just as she saw Kevin step into the hallway.

"Fuck," she gasped under her breath, afraid she might throw up. It was close to 8:30 now. He should have been at the cocktail party. Why was he in his room? Terrified that he'd seen her, Anna stood in the stairwell with her back pressed to the wall. She counted to fifty and then to one hundred, but the door never opened. When she peeked out into the hallway again, it was deserted.

"You can do this," she whispered, even as the thought occurred to her that he may still be in the hotel room. There was no way she'd be able to overpower him if he was. Before she could give it too much thought, she knocked on the door and then pressed her ear to it. When nobody answered, she did it again. Then she swiped her card, watched the light turn green, and pushed the door slowly open.

The hotel room smelled like Kevin's cologne, and she gagged, but after a quick inspection of the bathroom and closet, he was definitely gone. Her hands were shaking like crazy now as she checked the desk area for his computer, but it wasn't there. She dropped to her knees and crawled across the floor to his computer bag, but it was empty except for folders and pamphlets from the conference.

"Shit," she said, eyes stinging with tears. She made it this far, and she didn't want to give up now. As she crawled around the king size bed, she saw the computer charging cable on the floor, plugged into the outlet along with his phone charger. And there it sat, tucked halfway under the bed. The laptop.

Anna lunged for it, opening it and waking it up from standby mode. She was prompted to enter a password, and she smiled; Kevin never changed anything. It had to be the same one he was using since college. She entered it, and her smile vanished. 

Incorrect Password

"You're joking," she gasped. This was supposed to be the easy part. This was the last thing she was convinced would trip her up. Perhaps she had just entered it wrong with her shaky hands, so she tried it again.

Incorrect Password

"Fuck!" Panic was setting in now. Should she just take it and risk pissing him off if the manuscript wasn't even on it? Her intention had been to check before she did. Her gaze settled on the little fingerprint reader down in the bottom corner near the keyboard. There was simply no way. If he had taken the time to actually update his passwords, then he would have taken the time to remove Anna's fingerprint access as well.

She bit her lip and slid her index finger down to the reader, and she was immediately rewarded with full access to the computer. Her eyes went wide as she tapped on the search option and entered the file name of her manuscript and hit enter, and when it popped up on the screen she burst into tears. She scrolled down and it was there. It was all there.

"Fuck you, Kevin," Anna said, voice hoarse with emotion as she yanked the plug from the wall, wrapped the cord around the laptop, and made her way to the door. She needed to act completely normal right now even though she felt like her heart might burst into a million brightly colored pieces of magic. She rode the elevator down, praying that Kevin was getting intoxicated enough that he wouldn't realize something was missing from his room right away. For the first time in her life, she didn't even care if he brought another woman back with him, but she did almost feel bad for pregnant Alyssa back in New Jersey. Almost.

When the doors slid open revealing the bustling lobby, Anna nearly tripped for the last time. She took her friend's shoes off and held them in one hand with her purse as she started speed walking toward the exit. She didn't see Kevin anywhere, but that didn't mean much since he had been in his room when she got here. Now she was counting on Bob to be where he said he would be.

Once she was outside, she immediately turned to the right toward the loading zone. She started to run barefoot down the sidewalk, and that's when she saw him. He was perfect, standing there next to the passenger side door in his white undershirt, running his hands nervously through his hair.

"Bob!" she called out, her feet already aching, and he came racing up the sidewalk to meet her.

"You got it!" he whispered excitedly. "Anna, Baby, you got it!"

"It's still on here," she breathed as he scooped her up with everything still held tight in her hands. "I got in with my fingerprint and I saw it, Bob. I have it." He kissed the side of her neck once, but otherwise he didn't stop walking. "Did you see Kevin?" she asked. 

"Yeah," he grunted, setting her down and pulling the door open for her. "He headed the other way up the block. When he came out after you went inside, I kind of started to freak out a little bit. If I didn't hear from you again in five more minutes, I was going to make my way inside. But you didn't need me at all."

Anna tossed everything onto the seat and scrambled inside, anxious to get out of here, but not before she leaned down to kiss Bob one more time. "That's just the thing though. I'm pretty sure I actually do need you."

He was smiling as he said, "Let's go home."

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

Anna was holding the computer to her chest while Bob drove down the dark local roads of Carlsbad and got onto the highway. She didn't say much, but she looked so happy, and eventually her hand crept across the seat to take his. When he took the first street off the bridge instead of the second one, she asked, "Where are we going?"

Bob laughed. "Just because he hasn't been freaking out at you all night doesn't mean he hasn't been texting and calling me nearly nonstop."

"Who?" she asked, clearly puzzled as Bob drove through the quiet end of Coronado. When he pulled up in front of the Spanish Revival style house that had every light, interior and exterior, shining bright, she laughed too. "I almost forgot about the rings in all the excitement."

Bob watched as Bradley came running out onto his porch in his slippers, gym shorts, and his hideous tie dye shirt with a concerned look on his face. His wife was right behind him waving merrily from the porch in a bathrobe that looked too big for her as he ran down the walkway toward the truck. Bob watched as Anna twisted both rings from her finger and then rolled down the window, and in an instant, Bradley's entire head was thrust inside, eyes searching wildly.

"Do you have them?" he asked loudly, reaching for Anna's open palm and the rings. "Jesus Christ." He turned around and shouted to his wife, "They have them!"

"I told you they did," she replied easily, shaking her head. "It's not like she was set on stealing something tonight, Beer Boy."

Bob and Anna both started laughing as Bradley turned back toward them, looking much calmer with his wife's rings in his hand. "These rings are so important to me. Elvis himself married us in Vegas with them."

Anna patted him on the cheek and said, "And they're both just as perfect as when Advanced Calculus gave them to me earlier. They worked like a charm, so thank you."

He nodded and sighed in relief before heading back up to the porch with a lot more swagger in his step now. While he was walking away, Bob heard him tell his wife, "Put these back on immediately, Sugar, or I'm getting my Beta Gamma paddle out."

"Oh," Anna gasped as Bob started to pull away from the curb. "That actually makes a lot of sense," she muttered, holding onto the computer once again.

"They are in for a wild night," Bob told her, heading toward his house now. "And so is Kevin. In a much less fun way."

"And so are you," Anna said with a little smirk. 

"I don't have a fraternity paddle," Bob replied as his cheeks grew warm.

"We won't need one of those for a good time. You have a collection of poetry that you wrote about me, and I think I'd like to hear you read it."

Bob was already twitching with need. "Will you put your black bra and panties on again?"

"What do you think I'm wearing under this dress? As soon as I pull my manuscript from the cloud and copy everything over to my own computer, I'm going to spend the rest of the night thoroughly thanking you for believing in me when I didn't believe in myself. And then we can discuss the plans to banish Kevin permanently."

There were so many things he wanted to do, but he knew his list would have to start after hers was complete. They would take care of her manuscript and get rid of Kevin. Then he could bring up going on some actual dates before she moved in for good and let their books get all mixed up. He was itching to get back to the bookstore again. He was dying to take her to Chippy's.

"You don't have to thank me for anything, Anna," he said softly, lacing his fingers with hers as he drove. "But when you finally feel free, just promise me you'll stay."

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

Anna! You badass!! Let's banish Kevin back to New Jersey forever! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[alottanothing]

This is for @twola, who, about a week ago was having a bad day and wanted someone to write a snip of Arthur beating the shit out of someone who made the reader cry; with the addition of some smutty goodness, of course.

Well, this is the first time I've written publically for our dear cowboy Arthur Morgan. And I simply cannot write anything considered a 'snip'. So here's what my brain calls a snip; over 5k words just for you, twola. I hope this makes up for the bad say you had last week. :)

And shout out to my partner in writing crime, @itswormtrain, for making this readable!

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!reader receiving)

The sun was beginning to set over the peaceful hills and sprawling trees of Cumberland Forest. Those lingering traces of daylight caress the rugged terrain with whimsy, casting shadows that dance over the dirt path under the hooves of your young stallion. Nature seemed to pause in reverence as the sun gracefully lowered itself behind the distant mountains; the only sound was that of your horse's steady walk and the murmuring babble of the Dakota River in the distance.

It had been too long since you’d enveloped yourself in such tranquility, seemingly always at the receiving end of Miss Grimshaw’s scalding. Any anticipation of exploring the wilderness or going on jobs with the guys was always overshadowed by the necessity of chores.

When you’d joined the ranks of the Van der Linde Gang, you had hoped you’d garner a little more excitement than a seemingly endless cycle of laundry, cooking, and mending. Sure, the mess in Black Water and the threat of the law constantly at everyone’s heels was a form of excitement, concerning, but still excitement. Though, things had died down since all that, and Horseshoe Overlook was truly an awe-inspiring place to call home for the time being. Even so, camp chores remained deeply understimulating.

In truth, you were just antsy; you always were when Arthur was away for more than a couple of days. Your mind always thought the worst, despite knowing your handsome outlaw was more than capable of handling himself on jobs and in the wilds. But that nagging concern never ceases to occupy your mind. His absence at camp was never more cumbersome than when Grimshaw was barking out instructions, or when Uncle’s drunken singing was so off-key, it scraped against your brain like a rusty old knife. You simply couldn’t stand it anymore; you needed peace and quiet—something to scratch that itching thought in the back of your head.

Admittedly, you hadn’t planned to venture so far from camp, or any sort of civilization for that matter. The towering ramparts of Fort Wallace were in your sights before you decided to turn back. Were it not for the shotgun secured in its holster on your saddle, the late hour would have left you feeling considerably more anxious. Arthur had taught you well, and instilled in you enough confidence not to worry as you trot down the dirt path toward Valentine.

There wasn’t a single soul to be seen for the majority of your journey; your only company that of your horse and Mother Nature’s comforting embrace. You almost hated the far-off glow of a town in the distance, over the crest of a hill. Soon you’d be back at camp with nothing to do but laundry and fret over your lover's absence.

“Pardon me, miss.” You nearly jump from your saddle hearing the strange man’s voice. “Thank god for you, would you mind – too terribly – giving me a ride back to town?”

Your heart skips a warning in your chest as you look around, where did he come from? The question dances in your head as you fight to form the words you want. This was O’Driscoll country—a notion you were suddenly very aware of, and your eyes glance at the rifle still tucked securely in the holster on your saddle.

“I was thrown from my horse, ya see—wild beast took off without me. ‘Fraid I hurt my ankle when I fell.” He explained, garnering a wave of sympathy that clouded the caution in your gut.

The stranger wasn’t dressed in the usual black and green of Colm’s gang: just simple trousers and a dirty work shirt and boots. What could it hurt?

“Yeah, alright,” you said, giving the man a faint smile.

“Oh, bless you, miss. Bless you,” the look of relief on his features did well to settle the remainder of the apprehension swirling in your stomach.

With a firm grip, you steadied your horse so the man could climb on, offering your hand to help him up.

And that act of kindness was your mistake.

His grip on your wrist was like a vice, painful, as he yanks you from your horse's saddle, your boots nearly getting hung on the stirrups. A sinister laugh echoes through the tall trees, splitting the serenity with the jagged sound of malice. Your stallion rears and cries, spooked by the abrupt movement, but the stranger is quick to steady him, forcing your horse into a full gallop toward the glow of Valentine leaving you where you fell.

When the shock wears off, you aren’t sure which was stronger, the wave of anger that envelopes you, or the sudden fear of solitude that brings forth the steady stream of tears down your cheeks. Both feelings were justified, you figure. That, and how utterly foolish you feel for trusting a stranger.

You knew better. Your time with the Van der Lindes taught you not to trust anyone, at least not someone on the side of the road pretending to be hurt. That was the oldest trick in the book. One you’d used several times to con someone out of something. Now, you were out a horse and a shotgun.

When the landscape grew darker as night fell, those shadows that you once looked on with awe and majesty, now loom sinisterly.

Stupid! You scolded yourself, more tears searing down your face. It would be dawn before you made it back to camp on foot; if you made it back to camp at all.

Without the security of your shotgun at hand, your confidence in making it home unscathed was growing short. Animals lurked in the trees around you; monsters both beast and man would undoubtedly set their teeth on you if they found you alone and without the means to protect yourself.

A shiver surges through you, a combination of the onslaught of fear and the chill from the mud you’d landed in. If you’d been riding with Arthur, no one would have the gall to steal from him. And if they did, they surely wouldn’t live long enough to get far out of reach.

You wipe the mud from your hands to your skirts before swiping at the tears staining your face. Maybe someone from camp would notice you hadn’t returned yet and send someone looking for you. Why hadn’t you asked someone to ride along with you, Mary-Beth would have, and she would have appreciated the quiet you wanted. But no, all you needed was the shotgun… How foolish you were.

With a sigh, you work yourself to your feet, boots, and skirts caked with mud and dirt. Even with the weight of self-pity beckoning you to stay planted on the side of the road, the rage put fire in your steps. You would make it back to camp, feet surely blistered, if only to lessen the embarrassment of being robbed.

Anger proves to be a useful motivator as you trek down the road before you, lit only by the white light of the moon. The tears had stopped, but they threaten to spill again simply from how much your feet hurt. That glow seemed to have tricked you; Valentine wasn’t close at all. All there was was trees and rocks and dirt in every direction. You were utterly alone; lost in the wilderness with only thoughts of your naivety to keep you company.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth resonates through the stillness of the wood, sending shivers down your spine and provoking a new wave of tears. With every nearer beat of the rider’s approach, anxiety constricts your heart, sending a whirlwind of possibilities into your mind. Images of dark strangers conjure in your thoughts, each with a fiendish smile and a revolver on their hip, a green bandana tied around their neck. All your anger drains, as you feel fear creep deeper into your being. You wish you still had your shotgun.

“You need a ride, miss?”

Relief crashes into you like a wave against stone; you know that voice, deep and comforting—kind (to you, at least). This time, it was joy bringing tears to your eyes.

“Y/N?” The look of surprise was to be expected on Arthur’s face as he beholds the sight of you, muddy, with tears staining your face. “Darlin’, whattaya doin’ out here?”

Immediately he jumps from his horse, warm hands gently holding the tops of your arms as he gets a better look at the state you’re in. All traces of his hard exterior are swept away, leaving the softer, more compassionate man you fell in love with.

“Camp was driving me crazy without you. I just wanted to take a ride, but some asshole stole my horse—yanked me off my saddle an’ everything. S’why my skirts are all muddy.” You explain, fighting more tears.

Some of the softness fades, still, his voice is gentle when he speaks again.

“Did he hurt ya?”

You shake your head, “no.”

The pad of his thumb dances over your cheek tenderly as he tilts your chin to look at him.

“Darlin’, ya been cryin’.”

“’M just cryin’ at my own stupidity, is all.” You tell him. “Should’a known better than to trust a man alone in the woods.” 

Arthur takes a deep breath through his nose, nodding.

“D’ja at least get a good look at ‘im?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you nod. “He took off towards Valentine.”

Arthur glanced south and nodded too, “Then I reckon that’s where we’ll find him.”

He places you on the saddle and mounts just behind you, drawing you close to his chest as he gives his loyal mare a gentle kick to urge her back onto the road.

With Arthur's arms around you, the darkness of the forest shifts back into the realm of tranquility. The menacing silhouettes of the towering trees became that of gentle giants, swaying gracefully in the night breeze. No longer did the whisper of rustling leaves hold a feeling of foreboding. The forest, in the ethereal silver glow of the moon, was a picture of peace and beauty once more.

Despite what had happened, even Arthur was a beacon of serenity. He hums as you both ride. It’s the same tune Uncle was singing when you left, only Arthur’s melody instills you with a sense of calm while Uncle’s attempt had you on the verge of threatening to remove his tongue. Every so often you feel his lips press to your scalp, leaving soft kisses in your hair and each one helps to remedy every sour thought plaguing you. It never ceases to amaze you just how tender your outlaw could be. To the civilized world, he was quite literally the poster of cruelty and evil, but for you, he was your knight in shining armor.

Valentine was quiet when the hooves of Arthur's horse turn down the main thoroughfare. The muddy roads, churned up by hooves and wagons, were dimly lit by the flicker of oil lamps. In the distance the stirring of livestock in their pens echoes through the stillness of the air, the only other sound coming from the saloon in the middle of town.

Smithfield’s always seemed to clamor no matter what time of night it was. Debauchery never slept, you guessed. The clinking of glasses and the lofty tune of the piano can be heard as you pass the sheriff’s office, a symphony of merriment in the still night air that lent such disregard to the tired citizens of Valentine.

A few men stand outside, bottles in hand as they lament lost love and glory, belching and hiccupping into the cool air. Horses tied to the hitching post whinny and jerk at reins keeping them in place, and there among them was your stolen stallion.

Arthur steers his mare to the front of the saloon, his heavy boots landing with a squelch in the mud as he dismounted. He helps you down, strong hands circling your waist and steadying you in the soft earth.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’,” he says and tips his head toward your horse. “Get yer boy, Imma go take care of some business inside.”

Before you can utter a word he stomps up the stairs of the saloon, his frame taking on the posture of The Enforcer as he pushes through the swinging doors.

His face wasn’t unknown here, it was only a couple of weeks ago he and a few of the other men from camp had gotten into some trouble. You weren’t there to see the fight, but you’d heard all about Arthur’s trip through the window—now boarded up and waiting to be repaired. This time, you hoped it wasn’t your handsome outlaw cast through the pane of glass.

While Arthur is inside, you deftly untangle your horse's reins from the post, gently stroking his mane to soothe his soft whinnying. You smile when he nuzzles you back, happy, it seems, to be back in your care.

“Was that awful man mean to you?” you ask softly, rubbing the coarse fur of his strong neck. “Arthur will handle it, don’t you worry.”

As if on cue, the jovial commotion in the saloon ends; the happy voices now holding anger or shock. The piano playing is lost to the disgruntled sounds inside and a moment later, the man who nearly ruined your night is thrown through the doors.

His bruised form topples down each step before landing in the mud. You watch, unable to quell the sense of pride that surges through you as you watch Arthur swagger through the saloon doors and down the steps, spurs jingling. The confidence he holds as he looms over the thief settles over you warmly. This act of violence was in the name of chivalry; the man deserved whatever justice Arthur planned to dish out.

“Didn’t need ya to point him out after all, darlin’.” Arthur's words fell from his lips with the ghost of a grin, pleased with the opportunity to put your attacker in his place. “This feller was inside boastin’ to the whoooole saloon ‘bout the horse he stole from a helpless young woman just outside of town.”

Arthur kicks the man as he tries to stand, the thief falling back into the mud with a groan. Folks begin to gather on the wooden porch of Smithfield’s, their faces twisting in looks of both concern and excitement as they watch your handsome outlaw and the man who’d stolen your horse.

“See, normally I don’t waste my time dealin’ with dim-witted horse thieves. Hell, on occasion, I am one. But you see, that weren’t just any helpless young woman ya stole a horse from… that was my woman.” Arthur deals him another kick to his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs a second time as he tries to stand.

“An’ if it ain’t clear already,” Arthur says reaching to pull the man from the ground and holding him by the lapels of his jacket. “I don’t take kindly to anyone hurtin’ my woman in any way. Ya understand?”

The deep timbre of Arthur’s voice works over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He looks so fierce in the flickering light of the oil lamps, the brim of his hat shielding his eyes from you, though you know they were cold, focused on the man in his grasp.

No coherent words fall from the thief's mouth as Arthur holds him nearly off the ground, only a moan of anguish, surely from the two kicks he’d suffered.

“Nod if ya understand,” Arthur demands with a shake.

Anger churns on the thief’s face, but he nods, slow, jaw clenching as he musters the gall to fight back.

“Fortunately for you, all I’m lookin’ for is an apology…” Arthur tips his hat in your direction. “…to the lady.”

The man’s dark eyes glance your way and he sneers, shaking his head with a mirthless chorttle.

“I ain’t apologizin’ for nothin’, especially when your woman is stupid enough ta get her horse stole in the first place.” 

If you cared even slightly about the fate of the man who’d stolen your horse, hearing those words escape his mouth would have caused your stomach to drop knowing the sort of fire he just ignited. But, you want nothing more than for Arthur to beat him into a bloody pulp.

To your surprise, however, Arthur remains steadfast, but his voice is increasingly more sinister when he speaks.

“Maybe ya didn’t hear me. An apology. Now.”

“No.” The thief spat, a fiendish smile turning his lips.

With lightning speed and unyielding force, Arthur’s fist collides with the man’s jaw, unleashing a thunderous crack that has the onlookers gasping. The sudden impact propels the thief backward, his body crashing into the cold mud for a third time.

You expect him to stay there, really if the man had any wits about him, he would have. However, despite the two kicks and the blow to his face, the thief rose from the mud, foolish determination etched onto his bloodied features. Arthur almost scoffs and wastes no time proving the extent of his strength. He strikes him again, obliterating the remnants of the man's fractured jaw, the sound resonating with a deafening crack.

No one rushes to the man's aid when he falls to the muddy earth for a fourth time, wailing in anguish at his shattered jaw. Arthur stands over him, tall and formidable, his presence almost challenging the man to get back up, your outlaw more than prepared to deal out more justice.

“Should’a apologized…” Arthur chides. “If ya had, maybe ya’d have use of that jaw’a yours right now.” 

The man groans in agony, writing on the ground as he holds his broken jaw. 

“But I had ta keep ya from speakin’ ill’a my woman like that. I certainly don’t appreciate when slimy fellers like you use her kindness against her.” Arthur slowly circles the man like a fierce wolf circles their prey. “Then ya had ta go leavin’ her out in them woods, faaar from any sort of civilization, all alone. An’ well. I ain’t takin’ no apologies for that.” 

He stops, one leg on each side of the thief before dropping to his knees, fist poised high over the old leather hat on his head. Arthur didn’t leave your attacker with only one more punch; the man under his weight had committed the ultimate sin in your lovers eyes. He’d hurt you, a crime that warranted the ultimate punishment.

The sound of each punch reverberates through the air as Arthur’s fury drives him to deliver decisive blows. As you watch, pride swelling in your breast, you swear each hit lands with such intensity the ground beneath you trembles. All the folks gathered to watch pass whispers while looks of shock mold their features. Come the morning, the town would be talking again about the stranger who liked to stir up trouble in the sleepy city of Valentine. 

When Arthur finally stands, flexing his surely aching knuckles, the man beneath him is unrecognizable. Blood and bruises distort his face, teeth missing from his gaping mouth. His limp body is unmoving in the mud and you haven’t a care whether he was dead or alive. 

There is a hint of shame on his expression when he drew himself back into your orbit, the coldness in his eyes warming in your presence.

“’M sorry, darlin’.” He says refusing to look you in the eye. In an instant, the Enforcer was gone, leaving only your kind knight in shining armor standing before you, his knuckles red and bloodied from dealing out justice.

“For what?” you say taking his injured hand in yours, wiping the blood from the cuts with a clean section of your skirt.

“For what I done.”

You shake your head and tilt the brim of his hat, looking to meet his lowered gaze. “All you done, Mister Morgan, is protect your woman. Ain’t a lick of shame in that.”

He grins softly, gently caressing your chin and cheek with his clean hand. His expression meets yours completely.

“’M just glad I happened upon ya when I did.” He murmurs and you step closer to him.

His gentle eyes, painted in a delicate watercolor palette of blue and green, softly convey the deep love he possessed for you, along with the ever-lingering fear of losing you. The exquisite blend of tenderness and vulnerability was something seldom seen by anyone other than you. And each time those meticulously built walls of his came down,  you were honored to behold the part of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

“Me too,” you whisper, hoping the look you give him in return conveys the same sentiment.

The lives you lived held no real guarantees apart from a bullet or a hanging rope. You learned quickly to never take for granted a single moment, and this one you certainly weren’t.

“You ready to get back to camp now, darlin’?” he asks, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Camp… you almost grimace at the thought of returning to the mediocrity of it all.

“Actually.” Your eyes glance over to the hotel across the way, mischief coating your smile. “Was thinkin’ I should reward my rescuer.”

His brows furrow following your glance, oblivious to your meaning.

Before he can open his mouth to form a question, you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck, stretching on your tiptoes to gain the fullness of his kiss. As if on instinct his arms weave around your waist, your feet coming off the ground as he pulls you in closer to deepen the draw of your joined lips. It’s slow and lazy and perfect, his mouth undemanding but firm against yours, making you melt into his very being.

Your head is spinning when he pulls away, placing your feet gently back into the mud, and you can’t fight the smile unfurling over your wet lips.

“I’ll buy us a room at the inn,” you say, batting your eyes coyly. “S’ the least I can do for my knight in shining armor.”

Arthur laughed, heartily. There is an undeniable charm to the sound of his chuckle, as it cascades through the air, enveloping you with an infectious happiness each and every time you hear it. As his eyes hold yours, a playful glimmer twinkles behind them as he swiftly deciphers your not-so-cleverly veiled plan.

“A knight, hmm?” his brow lifts onto his forehead in a deep arch, his smirk firm on his lips.

You nod, “In shining armor.”

He chuckles again shaking his head before scooping you into his arms with ease. You gasp at the swiftness, and laugh too, draping your arms around his neck before planting a kiss on his bearded cheek.

“Well, then, I reckon I should play the part, shouldn’t I, sweetheart?” he says as he steps around your fallen, broken-jawed adversary on his way to the Saint’s Hotel. “Ain’t never been a knight before, just a dirty ol’ outlaw.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. 

He whistles as he trudges through the soft earth for his horse to follow and his loyal mare falls in close on his heel. Your horse follows too, nearly as inseparable from his horse as you were with Arthur.

“Ya ain't old, and ya ain’t dirty…need I remind you who's got mud all over their clothes?” you say kicking up your soiled skirts to get his attention. He just laughs.

“Maybe ya forgot already, but I was on my knees in the mud beating the life outta that fool who robbed you. That makes me just as dirty as you. ‘Sides, I reckon neither of us will be wearin’ them for much longer anyhow.”

His comment, and accompanying bravado surges through you like more wildfire, adding to the flames he’d already been fanning since throwing your attacker through the saloon doors. Arthur’s confidence in his ability to have you swooning with only the low smokey sound of voice and the words he spoke had grown exponentially. Which was both something of a blessing and a curse. You enjoyed the days of flirting and seeing him grow red in the face from your flattery. Now he made you putty in his hands with a few words and a coupling smile.

For that moment, however, you decide it’s a blessing; he’s your Savior in Spurs—a cowboy casanova.

You toss a coin to the innkeeper from the pocket of your skirts and he casts you a key that you manage to catch as Arthur wastes no time making his way upstairs.

In truth, the Saint’s Hotel was no paradise; with its meager accommodations and thin walls, it was hardly a place to find rest. However, that night, that illusion of privacy might as well have been nirvana. You could hardly recall the last time the two of you had a chance to make use of actual walls instead of the canvas flaps of Arthur’s tent. Here, the neighbors were strangers who wouldn’t be casting you looks over the fire the next morning, knowing far too much about what you and Arthur had gotten up to in his tent. You were going to savor every tiny detail unabashedly while you could.

The fire was already burning brightly in the fireplace, warming the room from the cool mountain air outside the windows, adorned with sun-rotted lace curtains. The wooden floor creaked under each step as if to voice its displeasure at the neglect it had suffered over the years. The faded wallpaper, once bursting with colorful patterns, now barely clung to the walls, faded and dusty. The bed, while made with threadbare quilts and pillows, appeared sturdy enough not to break under both your weights, and that was all you truly cared about.

Your boots are the first to come off once Arthur places you back on your feet, discarded with a couple of eager kicks before his hands reach for the fastenings of your skirts. Yours wind around his neck, burying your fingers in his honey-brown hair as you kiss his soft lips.

For all the violence they inflicted mere moments ago, Arthur's hands were so very gentle, plucking at the ties holding your skirts in place, and again as his deft fingers loosened every button of your blouse with practiced ease, leaving you in just your chemise. Despite the warmth of the fire burning in the room, a chill works through you and you sigh, more gooseflesh prickling your skin as Arthur moves his hand to the globe of your breast, thumb sweeping over the covered peak of your nipple.

His featherlight touches make your mind a dizzying vortex of desire. This man, who uses his hands to deal out death sentences, only ever uses them to worship you. His mouth, which often spits out sarcasm and cruelty, paints your skin with tender presses and undeniable words of adoration.

Your hands snake from their place in his hair to the buttons of his blue work shirt, loosening only a few before he swats your hands away gently causing a whine to sound in the back of your throat. He meets your furrowed brow with smirk and a quick peck on your lips before moving your hands back where they were. 

“Feels good, you doin’ that,” he tells you. 

You gently scratch the hair at the nape of his neck. “This?”

“Mhm…” he leans to kiss you again, a slow, worshipful act as though he is trying to memorize every detail of your mouth against his. 

Desire thrums through you ever hotter. You need him. 

“Arthur…” you breathe in weak protest as his lips scour down the column of your neck, his hands pulling your chemise from you. “…I’m s’posed to be rewardin’ you.”

You feel him smile and shake his head as his kisses venture further across your collarbone. When he relieves you of your bloomers, you shiver and moan at the feeling.

“Don’t need no reward, darlin’.” He whispers against your skin between kisses. “Think its you that needs taken care of after whatcha been through.”

Calloused fingers spray over the small of your back as he brings you against him, the hardness in his trousers pressing against your bare form. You feel your own arousal coating your thighs, warm and wet, and begging for the feel of him inside of you.

“Will ya let me do that darlin’? Take care of ya?” his hands explore as he speaks, trailing down your spine before cupping your back side with a little squeeze. 

Your head falls back with a ragged sigh, fingers tugging at this hair. As much as you want to tease and dote on him and show him how grateful you were for his timing, you can’t think when he has you like this: naked and vulnerable to his touch, mind cloudy with desire. 

“Yes, Arthur. Always.” You murmur, lost in the blissfulness of his touches. 

As if you weigh nothing, he takes you in his arms again, hoisting you aloft, and carrying you to the bed where he lays you so tenderly over the threadbare coverings.

You watch, heart pounding against the cage of your ribs as he quickly sheds each of his layers. It is a show you have seen a dozen times and helped with a dozen more, still, your lust-blown eyes gauge him with reverence and awe.

He is truly magnificent, your handsome outlaw; strong shoulders and wide chest dusted with coarse hair your fingers yearned to comb through. Warmth drifts through your body as you drink in every inch of him, eyes landing where his cock juts from dark curls proudly and your cunt clenches in anticipation.

“C’mere, sir knight…” you say stretching across the mattress, smiling, and batting your lashes. “…come an’ claim yer prize.”

Arthur chuckles heartily as he climbs into bed, and you welcome the press of his weight with a happy sigh. He teases your lips with his own, soft kisses that leave you wanting before the press of his tongue coaxes your mouth open. You reciprocate, drinking from his mouth with hungry groans.

Heat pools lower and lower where you want him most; feeling the long pulsing line of him against your thigh was like torture, causing another whine to escape your busy lips.

“Please…” you sigh, a slow undulation taking your hips in search of some form of stimulation.

Once more he obeys, his mouth laying a hot trail down your sternum, stopping to draw your nipple between his lips before traveling further down. The sensation of familiar, calloused palms gliding down the stack of your ribs as his kisses continue their way down, squeezing the swell of your hips and kneading the softness of your thighs have your quiet moans echoing through the room.

Arthur dips his mouth to your center abruptly and draws his tongue up through your slick folds, tasting just how much you need him, and he groans.

“Mmmm, darlin’,” he murmurs before swirling his tongue over the bud nestled at the apex of your cunt. “I don’t do this enough…”

You gasp, a flash of heat pulsing through your center, head rolling against the pillow. He didn’t do this enough, then again, the two of you rarely found yourselves so alone together. And there was barely enough room for the two of you on Arthur’s cot anyway, let alone room to explore other methods of pleasure.

He intensifies his exploration, drawing his tongue over you in wide flat strokes, while your thighs come to moor on his shoulders, heels digging into his back. You feel his shoulders roll as he dedicates himself fully to his task, thrusting his tongue into you, filling you with warm velvet before abandoning your core for the silky nub crowning it. Arthur's tongue curls against it until you shiver and gasp.

“A-Arthur…” your breath hitches, hooking your fingers into his hair.

A low purr rumbles through him as you press against his face, hips rolling in rhythm with his ministrations. Your lover sweeps his tongue over and around your clit repeatedly. Sensation swells low in your belly, feeling yourself nearing the ultimate peak and you tug his hair ruthlessly wanting more. Needing more than just his mouth. His truly wonderful mouth... 

“C’mon, darlin’,” he mutters against your dripping cunt, the gust of his breath billowing over your heated center causing you to shutter.

Without fanfare a wide finger dips into your core, then another, making your back arch and a loud moan spill from your lips at the delightful stretch. For only a moment, your cry reminds you of the paper mache walls surrounding you; no doubt everyone in the Saint's Hotel knows what the two of you are up to, but you cared little with Arthur between your legs eating you out like he was made to do so.

Stars dance in your eyes as you skirt the edge of your undoing. He growls encouragingly when you flutter in warning against his lips and around his fingers.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, voice low and utterly sinful. You can even feel his proud, smirking lips against your center, the image alone snapping the spring coiled low in your belly.

Ecstasy hits you like white-hot heat, tunneling your vision as you jerk against his face, heels digging into his back. His name falls sloppily from your mouth in a flurry of mixed vowels and sounds that hold no cohesive meaning, each one melding into throaty moans.

“That’s my girl…” He grins, removing his fingers to lap up all the juices of your arousal as you ride out your orgasm against his face.

Slowly you come back to yourself, the tremors of aftershock fading as your breath and vision catch up to you. Arthur remains content between your legs, gently kissing the soft skin of your thighs, once more humming the tune he’d serenaded you with on your way into town.

When he smiles at you, lips and chin shining with your nectar, love burning behind his blue-green eyes, you pet his hair, holding that gaze with the same reverence. Slowly a smirk unfurls on your lips.

“Like I said, knight in shining armor.”

[deadsetobsessions]

Tim drake triplet au owns my soul I’m not gonna lie

Have some more ✨

——

Moral and ethical crises aside, having three Robins increased the crime fighting rate exponentially. Crooks could not do even a mildly villainous scheme without being cheerfully beaten down (Lionel), robbed blind (Tim), and having their operations permanently crippled (Archy). At this point, the only reason the Rogues were still alive was because Batman insisted on handling them.

“There’s a weird ship coming into Gotham bay~!” Lionel sang, skipping into the room with an armful of papers. Alfred sedately followed behind him, with a plate full of snacks and milk. He had been passive aggressive in feeding them, muttering something about making up for lost time.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Tim mumbled, grabbing a snack. One hand was doing case work, the other (the hand that grabbed a snack) was doing homework. “Yeah, I clocked that. Some pretty interesting people on it.”

“Once again, Bruce’s old flings haunt our doorstep.” Archy crossed the room and plucked some of the papers off of Lionel.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. People are gonna come flocking to his gates with the fake baby traps again at the end of the social season.” Tim grimaced, remembering all the cheek pinches he endured last season as he headed off anyone that would approach Bruce in his Brucie persona.

“Talia al Ghul is a different kind of issue.”

“I’d take fist fighting her over Mrs. Laughfy’s pinching any day.”

“Gee, I kind of want to meet Talia. She seems kind of badass.” Lionel plopped down onto his seat, dumping the rest of the papers onto the table. “Dick hates her though. Oh, Archy, here’s all of the paperwork from that shady chemical plant.”

“Thanks.” Archy went back to the drawing board, drafting up a complicated corporate scheme that ended up with Drake industries acquiring said shady chemical plants. They were planning the reveal of the Drake triplets soon, but their method had much to be planned.

As a matter of fact…

“As expected,” Archy scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Our best bet is to pretend we were always there.”

“Gaslight, gatekeep, girl-boss!”

The triplets nodded and moved on, Archy forging their birth certificates.

Idle conversation started up again, rotating between their upcoming gaslight gatekeep girl boss masterplan, Talia’s arrival, and whether or not they should dye Jason’s hair bright purple.

“I wonder why she came? She got on the ship with a… kid.” Tim stilled, dawning horror and realization settling upon his face. “No way.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s juicy.” Lionel grinned like a bat fresh out of hell.

“We need more information.” Archy set aside his papers, an indication of intense focus from him.

The door clicked open and three heads swung in unison.

“Hey, guys, what are you…” Dick faltered as three sets of piercing blue eyes locked onto him. “Uh. Something wrong?”

Lionel dove at the door, shutting it closed and locking it.

Tim sprung up and clamped a hand onto Dick’s wrist. His smile became eerily polite. “Dick! We had a couple of questions for you!”

Dick glanced down at him, back at Lionel, and then forward at Archy’s widening grin. He shuddered.

“Am I about to die?” He wondered out loud, resigning himself to his fate as his baby-birds dragged him over to their war table.

——

“You didn’t know about me.”

“…No.”

“But we did!” Damian startled, unsheathing his sword in record time and swinging an arc of deadly blades towards the voice.

“Heya! I’m Robin!”

“I am also Robin.” Damian sidled back and looked up, weapon at the ready. Two identical Robins perched on the flickering street lamps, tilting their heads down at him.

“Hey, Damian. I’m Robin.” The one on the left waves.

“Boys,” his father sighed.

“Can it, B. I can’t believe you did the horizontal tango with Talia, of all people.”

Damian bristled. “You would not be worth the ground mother walks upon, you ingrate!”

The three robins looked at each other and simultaneously looked back at Damian. “Oh, we like you. Yes, you’re about to be our new favorite brother.”

Damian didn’t know whether to lunge at them or be flattered.

“C’mon, Wayne junior. We’ll show you around. Pick an alias, one you can use before we train you to be Robin.”

“I… I will fight you! Robin is mine by right! I am father’s blood son!”

One of the Robins perched on top of the lamp post grinned, half feral as he swung down. “We’d like to see you try, little bird.”

“Stop antagonizing him. Damian, you’ll become Robin eventually, but the only way is to get acknowledged by the former Robins. There’s so much more to becoming Robin than being good at combat like you are.”

“We’ll teach you! Robin lesson number one! Annoy B with competence!” The cheery Robin cheered.

“No.”

They ignored Batman. Damian, after checking his father’s face and not finding anything other than exhaustion, followed their example hesitantly.

“Here, take this grapple.” The serious Robin handed him a grapple and a domino mask. “Second lesson, Robins fly through the sky. We can stalk, sure, but we fly better than anyone else.”

Damian glanced at Batman again, before taking the grapple. In unison, the Robins shot up and away.

“Let’s go, Damian. We shouldn’t leave them unsupervised.”

“They are not competent enough to patrol alone?”

Father grimaced. “They are. But if we leave them be, they’ll take over Gotham in a matter of weeks.”

Damian’s respect towards the Robins went up a couple of notches. He put on the domino and grappled after the Robins.

When they find Joker goons transporting goods, the third Robin (Timothy, he found out later) turned to him and smirked.

“Third lesson? The punishment has to fit the crime. Those are stolen goods. So we rob them blind.”

“Those goods are evidence, Robin,” Father rumbled. Damian tensed, but the Robins remained relaxed.

“Okay, so we don’t touch the evidence, but everything else is fair game. Wallets, keys, lightbulbs.”

“That is incredibly petty,” Damian snapped.

“Well, B said we can’t murder them and maiming someone for stealing is too much. So, petty we must be, to refrain from going off the deep end.”

Damian considered tossing them off the roof, but these infernal fools would probably laugh and return to the roofs like cockroaches.

——

Damian watched the carnage in awe. The Robins were incredibly efficient and effective, drawing terror from their victims even before even commencing a beat down.

“I will accept their guidance,” Damian muttered to himself.

Behind him Batman lowered his head into hands in a moment of weakness. He prayed to allah and his parents for patience… and sanity.

——

“Jaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyysonnnnnnn!”

“Oh, fuck no!” Jason shot out rubber bullets without hesitation. “Fuck off, you demon!”

“But don’t you want to meet our youngest brother?”

Jason lowered his guns, glaring at Lionel’s chirpy face. “What? I’ve already met Tim.”

“Nope! Apparently, Bruce had a kid with, I shit you not, Talia al Ghul!”

Jason holstered his guns, interested in any mockery aimed at Bruce. “No way. You’re lying.”

“Nope! Meet Damian!”

Behind Lionel, Bruce’s mini-me stepped out. “Todd.”

Jason straightened and stepped closer, though noticeably giving Lionel a wide berth. He was never going to let the old man live this down. And from the looks of it, he had allies in the form of the three terrors.

——

Bruce looked down at the cake. He looked back up.

On one hand, his kids were getting along.

On the other hand… he was getting bullied by his kids.

Bruce heard a low chuckle.

Scratch that, he was being unjustly bullied by his kids and Alfred.

In front of the exhausted dad of six (and future dad of so many more), sat a cake with the words “congrats, it’s a boy!” and a picture of Talia.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hi hi!! Hope you’re doing well, I love your writing! I was wondering if you could do some hc on how ran, Rindou, sanzu, Baji, and Kazutora would react if they had a crush on a shy girl, so they always stare at her, but she thinks they’re glaring and gets scared?

Ok! Here are some hc's on them staring at a shy girl and accidentally scaring her because she thinks they're glaring. Put the timelines next to the names, also tw for kidnap on Sanzu's.

Ran (good timeline)

He really wasn't expecting to ever get caught staring at you, so the first time you suddenly turned and your eyes met his, he was caught off guard. He quickly recovered giving you a lazy smile though, and so the same thing continued everytime you caught him. Ran thought he was being charming and playful.....he never figured the stares would come off differently or that you would see his smiles as something sinister.

He doesn't understand why you always seem in such a hurry to get away from him. Were you not interested in him? Or is this part of the game?

Eventually he manages to trap you, standing between you and the door, grinning at you like a cat who just caught the mouse. Slamming his hand on the wall, next to your head, he leans in, intending on finally flirting with you verbally.

Only for him to suddenly notice your scared expression and realise that he's scaring you

Immediately backs off with his hands in the air, trying to show you he means you no harm. Explains the situation to you and actually apologises for scaring you.

He's mainly just surprised and a little embarrassed that he didn't realise earlier.

Rindou (good timeline)

Doesn't even notice notice he was staring at you at first, he's liked you for the longest time now and his gaze is just always wandering over to you unintentionally. He daydreams a lot while looking at you.

Anytime you turn to peek at him and your eyes meet, he tends to look away just as quickly as you. He hasn't quite figured out how he wants to approach you yet.

Eventually, he tries to talk to you but gets confused by your expression and by how you seem to practically run away anytime he gets close.

Actually assumes it's because you know his reputation as one of the Haitani brother's instead of it being because of the staring. So he tries to lay low a bit gang wise but the staring still continues.

Until one day, when you try to run off he calls your name and catches your wrist. He explains that he knows you're scared of him but that he won't ever hurt you and that you don't have to be scared because of the gangs. You look at him with a confused look for a moment before asking "so you don't hate me?". Rindou is very confused and also embarrassed as you explain the staring thing.

Sanzu (Bonten, tw: kidnap)

He's aware that you're scared straight away but it doesn't bother him. He's always observing people so has gotten good with knowing their thoughts and emotions, and picks up on yours immediately.

Sanzu's a bit different to the others though, since he never plans on actually having a relationship with you. Sure he's interested but Mikey is his king and the only one he allows himself to spend time on, he has to be his number one priority. So there's no time for a relationship, you're just a passing fantasy so it doesn't matter what you think of him.

He was wrong though, months go by and he's still interested in you. You won't leave his head, the staring intensifies.

Eventually he gives up, guess he has no choice but to approach you. He can probably make it work between you and serving Mikey too anyway. Besides he's no good to Mikey or bonten when he's all distracted like this.

You're walking home alone and don't see him till it's too late, one second you're walking and the next you're being pulled into an unknown car and being injected with something. Sanzu strokes your hair as your head rests on his lap, you were right to be scared of him.

Baji (good timeline)

He's in complete denial that he's even staring at you, Chifuyu and Kazutora both pick up on it and question him but Baji always denies it, getting defensive about how he definitely wasn't staring at you.

He hates how quickly you always leave, always rushing out of the pet shop whenever you see him. He wants to see you for longer, so wishes you would browse more like the other customers. Especially after he finds out that you happily stay longer and even chat with Kazutora and Chifuyu when he's not there.

This goes on for months, Baji staring at you longingly anytime you came in and you seeing his frustrated look, assuming he's angry at you and leaving quickly with your purchases.

Of course Kazutora and Chifuyu are the ones who have to step in. Making up some excuse about both of them being sick one day, so Baji would have to cover the shop alone for them. Meaning you and Baji would have to interact at the till.

Baji watches you as you casually walk into the shop, only to freeze when your eyes lock with his. You gulp and glance around before realising he's the only one there today, your only choice for buying your items.

You had hoped he wouldn't say anything to you but instead Baji immediately asks if you have a problem with him. He was never one for subtly after all. "I thought you had a problem with me?" You both end up surprised and clearing the matter up. Baji does have to deal with Kazutora and Chifuyu's teasing after though.

Kazutora (bad toman timeline)

You were being harassed by toman the first time he saw you, so of course he jumped in, beating them up to protect you. Toman shouldn't be hurting random girls. After he'd finished he was about to walk away when he heard the quiet "thank you" and realised you were offering him some tissues for his own injuries from the fight. You ran off after that, before Kazutora could offer to walk you home or even just ask if you were ok.

He figured he'd never see you again but then he did, just by chance. After that the two of you bumped into each other often, with him always staring after you. He wanted to say thanks for the tissues and get to know you more, he wanted you. You seemed so sweet, no girl had ever stuck around after a fight and offered him something to help before.

You thought he was mad at you because he had to beat up those guys or maybe he expected some kind of payment for doing that? He definitely seemed to be glaring at you...

It didn't take long for him to sense how uncomfortable you were with him around. It hurt him a lot, he assumed you were scared of him because you saw what he did to those guys.

He backed off immediately, stopped going to the areas where you were. After all he had an important job to do with Chifuyu, no time for romance. But it still made his heart ache.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Moving On and On, So Very Bittersweet

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: mentions miscarriage, anxiety, nerves, slight angst, and SMUT

Today has been a bit of a haze and you’re not even close to putting your plan in motion yet. You’re finally ready to have sex again after a long, grueling 5 months. The healing process after your miscarriage has been one of the hardest things ever, and it’s still rough sometimes. However, time has healed you mentally and you feel ready to rekindle that spark between yourself and Mat. This morning you made a phone call to your best friend, Beverly, asking if she’d do you the grace of taking care of your babies for the night. Luckily she agreed. You had to run around the house to pack their bags and feed them before they were picked up. Now you’re setting up for tonight, impatiently waiting for Mat to walk through the front door.

The familiar beep of Mat’s car doors locking alerts you instantly. You feel nerves of anticipation and excitement fill you up as you trot over to the front door. You throw it open before he can even insert the key into the keyhole. You’re greeted with his shocked expression and his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Hi, baby,” you mutter, words muffled by the material of his button up.

You practically cuddle into his body as warmth emanates from all around him.

“Hi, pretty girl. I missed you today,” he says back, looking down into your eyes.

An overwhelming swell of love pumps through your veins while you stare at the man you’re insanely in love with.

“The kids are awfully quiet today,” Mat concludes, so used to the bustling sound of his kids coming to greet him when he first gets home.

“They actually aren’t here. They’re with Beverly for the night. We’ll go pick them up tomorrow morning,” you explain.

You fiddle with the hairs at the nape of his neck to distract yourself from feeling any type of anxiety. You’re trying not to let any of your fears get to you. You know you’re ready to move forward with Mat, but you can’t help but feel jittery. It’s almost like it’s your first time all over again.

“That’s nice. What’s the occasion?” Your husband’s hands wander along your back, his fingertips pressing into any knots you may have.

“No occasion, I just want some quality time with my husband,” you murmur and press a kiss onto the side of his neck.

For a moment you feel him freeze because he’s not used to you being affectionate as of late, but then you feel him melt into you. He doesn’t know that it eases your anxiety.

“I can definitely get behind that. I missed being able to be with my wife without the babies crawling all over us. Don’t get me wrong, I love our children, but I love having some time for just you and me,” Mat grins, tugging you further into him.

“Me too, baby. How about we order some takeout?” You ask.

“Deal.”

-

“That was so good,” you comment as you relax into the cushions of the couch.

“Sushi is always good,” Mat agrees, welcoming you into his arms.

You pepper kisses along his collarbones and all the way up to his jaw. Your hands press into his chest and you smirk when you feel his heartbeat start to pick up. After your soft attack is over, you pull him into a hug. You feel so thankful for your husband, and you hate that you haven’t been showing it as often.

“It’s so nice to be able to enjoy a meal with you, baby. We haven’t had a date this week, so I’m glad we were able to do this,” Mat expresses his gratitude.

“Maybe we should cap this over with a nice bath and maybe a glass of wine,” you suggest, eyes peering into his innocently.

“I like that idea very much,” he responds and leads you to your bathroom.

After setting up a warm bubble bath and grabbing some wine, you finally sink into the water. You welcome the liquid to soothe your muscles and you’re sure that Mat welcomes the same feeling. You melt into his chest, feeling the comfort of having him wrapped around you.

“Mat,” you mutter so quietly that he almost doesn’t catch it.

“Yeah, babe?” He leans up, so he’s flushed against your back and his hands wrap around your stomach.

You fight the chill that dares to roll through your spine and try to calm the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You clear your throat and say, “these past months have been so hard on us. I’m still a little sad, but I miss feeling connected to you-“

“We're always connected, even if it's not sexually. You're my wife, my soulmate, and my everything," Mat adds in. His eyes are filled with sincerity, making you relax a bit.

“I know, baby. In this case, I mean I miss being sexually connected. Seeing you be the best daddy, picking up my slack, and just being the best husband, has made me insanely horny for you,” you finish with a giggle, feeling awfully shy. Your cheeks simmer under Mat’s smirk.

There are no words to express how grateful you are for your husband. While you’ve been dealing with your grief, Mat has been the ultimate partner. Not that he wasn’t before the miscarriage, but he’s definitely made things easier for you during your fragile state. That’s not to mention that he’s been so patient with you. He didn’t push you to get better, nor did he push you to have sex before you were ready. Mat’s the definition of the perfect husband, perfect father.

"Are you 100% sure you're ready for me?" Your husband asks, wanting to be completely certain that you're not feeling any hesitation.

“I’m sure. I want you,” you state firmly, pushing yourself as close as humanly possible to him.

His hands fall from the small of your back to your ass, grabbing handfuls of you.

You kiss up his throat, licking a line up one of his veins.

“On our bed,” you make sure that he knows he can’t have you until you’re in the comfort of your bed.

-

“Wait here,” Mat says, rubbing your arms and leaving you in your ensuite while he disappears into the master bedroom.

You finish off your skincare and body care routine. You feel so giddy, like you can jump and run around. You’re not sure what your husband is doing and it makes you excited. The lust has already started to pool in your core, waiting for Mat to ignite the fire within you.

You can’t wait to get your hands on him and feel his muscles flex underneath your palms. You yearn to hear his moans close to your ear and feel him hard and thick inside of you.

“You can come out now,” his words break you out of your daydream.

You slip your robe on and anxiously open the door. Your jaw drops to the floor and your heart grows three sizes upon seeing candles set up around your room. The comforter and pillows on the bed are fluffed up. Your shared bedroom has never felt so intimate and safe.

“I love you and I’m proud of you for everything. You’re the strongest person I know, and I’m glad you’re my wife as well as the mother of our children,” he whispers in your ear with his arms wrapped around you.

“I love you more,” your response is tearful, but so thankful at the same time.

When Mat lets go, he waits for you to make the first move. He doesn’t want to rush you, or make you feel like things have to progress quickly. He’d be fine with kissing you in bed if that’s all you wanted.

You let your silk robe slink down your body, the intimidating bed right in front of you. With a deep inhale and exhale of air, you settle in the plush of your blankets and pillows. The candlelight breaks through the dim lighting of the room, highlighting the intimacy of the atmosphere.

When you take a glance at your husband, his eyes are already on you, taking in the sight of you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. Your breath hitches in your throat and you subconsciously clutch the sheets and tightly close your legs. Mat’s eyes soften at your rigid form, not used to seeing you so timid.

You’re left in silence while you watch your husband drop the towel from around his waist. Finally kneeling on the bed and scooting closer to you, he reaches out to your legs. You unintentionally jump at the touch of his hand, but quickly will yourself to calm down.

It’s Mat, your husband, he’s in love with you and will always take care of you.

He gently pries your legs apart, eyes on your reaction as he slots himself between your legs. He takes in your naked form, one he’s seen a million times and one he’ll never get tired of. He catches sight of your tattoo on your lower abdomen. “Baby,” sits there proudly, remembering your baby that you never had the opportunity to meet. He traces the black ink, letter for letter. Tears start to form in your eyes, but you don’t let them slip. You know it’s okay to be sad, but you don’t want to dampen the moment.

“Are you doing okay?” Your husband asks. The gentle drag of his fingertips make goosebumps prickle at your skin.

“Yes, baby,” you respond and grab onto his wrist, moving his hand over your heart.

You both stay still for a minute, letting him feel the beat of your heart under his palm while you caress his jaw.

“Tell me if you don’t want to do this,” Mat makes sure you’re completely ready to get intimate again.

This time you have no hesitation.

“I want you.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips while he spreads your arousal around your waiting core. After telling him that you were ready in the bathtub, things got a little touchy and it was basically your foreplay.

He grabs his length, dragging the tip through your folds in a small tease. He nudges it against your clit, making your body already feel fluttery.

After coating himself in your wetness, he slowly starts to push into you. Your hole clenches down on his angry, leaking head and your body lurches forward.

“Wait, don’t move. I- I need some time to adjust,” you say, halting his movement with a hand on his torso.

“Take however much time you need, baby. I don’t want to hurt you,” he assures you, his hands rubbing at your long legs.

After a long pause, you start to get antsy. The feeling of pleasure lingers in the forefront of your mind and you want nothing but to feel all of him.

“I want you closer,” you demand, your arms going around his neck and pulling him closer to you.

You need the press of his body on yours, feeling his heartbeat thud against yours. It makes all your worries dissipate.

“I need you, Maty. Please make me feel good,” you whimper and it’s all he needs to hear to start his movements.

He pulls out slowly and gently pushes back in, effectively pulling soft moans from your mouth.

His pace only increases a tad bit, but each thrust is deep and punctuated with a passionate roughness that makes your insides all gooey. You hold onto him firmly, your fingers leaving imprints in his skin. Your legs wrap around his waist and the heels of your feet dig into the small of his back, keeping him sheathed inside of you.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. You’re so wet for me,” Mat moans in your ear before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His lips tenderly peck at your pulse point, but eventually it leads to him sucking your skin into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” you shriek and your body arches off the bed.

His cock hits all the right spots and repeatedly prods into your sweet spot. The veins on his length feel so good gliding along your slick walls. Each time your greedy pussy sucks him back in, you’re met with fire surging through your veins.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt such euphoria.

“More,” you beg, pulling your husband away from your neck so you can look at him.

His forehead is lined with sweat, curls sticking around his face. His eyes shine with pleasure, and saccharine moans fall from his lips.

“More,” you repeat.

His large paws grip your thighs and spread your legs open. His hips rut into you, allowing your orgasm to bubble up. You claw your nails into the skin of his back, barreling down as you take his long strokes. His strong body moves with yours in perfect synchrony because you won’t let him do all the work. No, you rock your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

You smash your lips on his, letting him stick his tongue down your throat. Once your pussy starts to clamp down on Mat’s length, he knows you’re close. He pushes your spread legs closer to your chest, so you can take him deeper and so your orgasm can rip through your body.

“Yes! Just like that,” you scream, eyes shut and hands still attached to Mat.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he says hotly.

The knot in your stomach snaps and you throw your head back, mouth falling open in the form of a silent moan. Your body quivers as you release around him. He lets go of your limbs and returns to his softer thrusts, working you through your orgasm.

“I love you,” your husband whispers against your lips before pecking them.

“I love you,” you moan, body still tingling.

The pulsing of your walls signals his own release and soon he’s pumping you full. Usually Mat’s hips will move crazily as he works through his orgasm, but this time his movements are slow and sensual. He kisses your cheek, mumbling incoherently into your skin.

“You’re so perfect,” Mat whispers, leaning on his forearms so he can stare at you.

You’re doused in a post-coital glow and you’re sporting the most perfect smile.

Mat traces the slope of your nose and the cupid’s bow of your lips.

“You’re my everything,” you say back, giggling when he nudges his nose against yours.

“You know, I still can’t believe you’re my wife,” he hums and lays his forehead on yours.

Your eyelashes flutter against each other as you both meld together. You’ve missed everything that’s involved with being intimate with the love of your life.

“You’re so lucky,” you joke and poke at his ribs, making him drop his body on top of yours. You let out a dramatic grunt, but you welcome his weight.

Silence fills the room as you massage your husband’s scalp and softly glide your hands up and down his back. You actually thought he fell asleep until you heard his sniffles.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You ask, voice full of concern.

Softly you nudge him off of you, so you can face him. There’s nothing clearer than having a conversation and seeing their expressions.

“I don’t know how to move past this. I keep thinking about the baby you could be pregnant with right now. I’d be able to feel them kick and we’d be able to hear their heartbeat. Instead we never got to know them,” Mat sobs and you pull him into your chest.

You kiss the top of his head and try to wrap yourself around him, hoping to help him calm down.

You know Mat has been hurting, you just didn’t know it was this bad. A big chunk of you feels terrible for not being able to be there for him the way he was there for you.

“It’s hard and it sucks. There’s not much that we can do, but try to enjoy the babies we do have. It’s okay to be sad and cry. I’m sorry that I haven’t picked up on your true feelings. You can talk to me. I don’t care what state I’m in, you can talk to me. We’re a team and we’ll have to work through it together,” you try your best to comfort him.

You know words don’t offer much, because it’s difficult to process losing something you’ve never known you had. You do hope that your love can help him the way his love has done wonders for you.

“I mean I’m fine most of the time. Then I start to think about what they’d look like and it just ruins me,” he continues.

“I think about it, too. We’re going to be okay, though. It’ll take some time, but we’ll heal. We’ve already come a long way since it happened. I love you so much, Mathew. I’m so sorry that this is happening to us,” you mutter through the lump in your throat and the tears falling from your eyes.

“I love you.” He kisses your lips desperately as if you’re his only source of air. As of right now, you’re each other’s guiding light. The miscarriage has been one of the hardest things you’ve had to experience, but it brought you and Mat closer together in ways you would’ve never expected.

a/n: This took me so long, but I hope you enjoy it. I loved writing it🫶

[lolitasangel]

Daddy Issues

Noah Sebastian x Reader

MDNI 18+

Tw-mentions of smut, naive (kind of)reader, choking, talks of manipulation, mentions of daddy issues, mentions of absent father

AN- Okay, so I have had this thought in my head for weeks, and lately for some reason I have been hating everything I’ve been writing (I’m okay though, I’m just a harsh critic on myself) but I hope you guys enjoy this

Taglist- @reyadawn @yarasdead @darling-millicent-aubrey @thisbicc @bluestdai @fadingintothegrey @english-fucker

——

As soon as Noah saw you at the small party Matt was throwing, mostly talking to your friends, you seemed a little shy.

Noah immediately and without question made his way towards you, he wanted you, the way you walked, talked, from slightly moving closer to you by the minute, hearing you voice was like dripping honey for a bee, and he needed that honey, you seemed rather shy and more to yourself, but that was fine, Noah didn’t mind at all.

As you finished your conversation with a friend, trying to find somewhere to step away and breath, you bumped into Noah, standing behind you.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You apologize profusely, thankfully neither of you had a drink so nothing spilled on either of you, but from the flush and heat forming on your face you were still embarrassed.

“Hi, I’m Noah” the very attractive yet freakishly tall (Noah I’m sorry but Jesus Christ, 6’3?) smiled at you, “I saw you across the room and you seem really nice to talk to”, that caught you off guard, no one’s ever said that to you before.

Smiling at his comment, “thank you, I’m Y/N, I was just about to step out to, you know get a breather” you say as you gesture your hands in the air, trying to find the words you wanted to say without seeming too timid or shy. “Would it be okay if I joined?” Noah asked, he still had that soft nice smile.

Noah was very sweet to you, smiling and laughing at your jokes. At the end of the party you both exchange phone numbers, as you were getting ready for bed your phone went off, buzzing from a text message.

Leaving the bathroom and walking towards your bed, grabbing your phone, a text from Noah!

“Hope you made it home safe”, you couldn’t help the smile that slowly formed on your face, he was super nice, you didn’t have the best history with men, they were either mean towards you or disrespectful, and your father never being in your life didn’t help, so of course you thought that all the men that would be in your life would be that way, but not Noah, he was so nice to you and respectful to you right away.

The longer you and Noah talked through the days, you started spending the night at his place every once in a while, you both shared the bed but he always put a pillow in the way so you would be comfortable, it was so nice of him to do.

The more you guys spent together the more you opened up to him, you talked to him about your rough history with men, the history of an absent father,etc.

Noah always listened with open ears, and would always tell you he’s proud of you, he would wipe your tears and give you a quick hug, as he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with how long he would touch you.

At one point the longer you were together the flirtier Noah got with you, and it was always the sweet kind, but tonight, Noah wanted to make his move, of course he had a plan, he’s been keeping track of how the previous nights have been with you.

You come over

You talk and drink every once in a while

Play a game

Put a movie on and talk about different things, forget said movie, play some music on his speakers

Then you both fall asleep

And of course he loved the routine, he did, but he wanted to change it tonight, he wanted you to be his, and he was going to make it happen.

He just had to play his cards right.

Hearing a knock at his door, Noah opens up, wide smile “welcome, back” he says, stepping forward, grasping your lower back, gently pushing you forward “come in”.

“Is it okay, if I change really quickly? I had to head here straight from work so I wasn’t able to get ready properly”, “oh course, you don’t need to ask you know” Noah teases, shooting a wink at you, blushing you look down, “I know, it’s just a habit”, “well, it’s good to have manners, right, pretty girl?” He asks, you nod your head, looking down, hoping he doesn’t notice.

Noah definitely notices though, tilting his head, walking towards you, grasping your chin, in a soft manner, “why don’t you go change?” He rhetorically asks, tilting his head down towards the hall, nodding you shuffle down the hall way to the bathroom.

As you were changing you couldn’t help but feel the smile slowly form on your face again, he was so sweet, you couldn’t stomach the butterflies swarming around.

After getting changed, you make your way towards Noah’s room, placing your things against the wall out the way, you make your way towards his bed, sitting and waiting for him to pop up again, the hangouts went from the living room to his room without you noticing, it was a slow transition, you didn’t know it but his plan was slowly coming into fruition.

As he climbed his way onto the bed, placing the snacks down in the center of the bed, leaning back against the head board, you perked up in your place, turning around facing him now, “what did you bring?” You ask in awe of all the different snacks he had brought (all of which were your favorite), and also brought a small variety of drinks that he knew you liked, it was apart if the plan of course.

Noah started playing some music on his phone, coming through softly through the speakers.

You both were starting to talk more, bringing up topics you’ve never really talked about before, like you history with guys and your dad being absent, your fears all that, you felt like you’ve been holding this in for so long.

You couldn’t help but break down a bit, you never talked about this before, not even to your closest friends, you had been holding these feelings down deep in a pit inside your soul.

Noah pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, one arm around your waist, while the other played with your hair.

You just broke down more, hot tears streaming down your face, letting out every emotion you’ve ever had about your dad the most.

Noah started consoling you, he started rubbing your back, whispering gently in your ear, “it’s okay, baby” and “let it out, it’s not your fault, you know that, baby” he would continue on the harder you cried.

Occasionally as you continued to ramble Noah would place a couple kiss on your head, giving you the love you never received from any guy in your life, especially your father.

The longer you cried, the longer Noah would give you the praise you’ve been craving for so long, from anyone, “it’s okay, baby, let it out, good job” he would mumble into your hair, placing a few kisses here and there, curling closer into his body, wanting to feel as much of him as you could, he felt like your anchor to this rocky ship of emotions you were spewing out at him.

“Good girl, it’s okay, you can cry” he would encourage you to keep crying, he loved feeling you in his lap, curled into his arms, all you wanted in that moment was him, and Noah was fine with that, it was part of the plan.

Well, of course Noah didn’t want you to cry but he had to, he had no choice, his plan was coming together.

“I’m so proud of you, baby, you’ve been holding in all these emotions huh” he would ask, you didn’t notice but he moved his hand from wrapping around your waist to hold you closer, slipping down to your inner thigh, gently stroking and rubbing.

“I’m so proud of you, baby” Noah spent the night praising you, rubbing your thighs up and down, you looked so small compared to him, he loved seeing his big hands on you, there was nothing you could do but cry in his arms for the rest of the night.

After falling asleep in his arms, Noah felt a smirk slowly come across his face, his plan was working out perfectly.

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ looking in a mirror, riptide (op81)

last installment / series masterlist

mark and sebastian have vastly different ideas for how the strategy should go for bahrain. oscar has a mini victory, daisy struggles to adjust from f2 and people learn her politeness is more of a facade than anything.

warnings/notes: hate comments, no injury accidents, lance stroll being bitchy, this took so long to get out i apologize. i changed yns faceclaim to cecilia chancez

Mark and Sebastian had been behaving for the most part. Porsche was using them as trainers alongside the rest of their staff, and so far it had been smooth sailing. Mark was good at keeping to a regimented plan, keeping both drivers with strict meal plans, workout schedules, and media duties, while Sebastian did more of the experimental work. The car had come along beautifully, the uniforms were gorgeous, and everything was sleek and ready to go.

And then it came to team strategy.

It was a bit of a bicker point for the two retired drivers, and while it was clear you had a big strength with overtaking while Oscar had a bigger strength on defense, it was often bickered about who should do what.

The plan for Bahrain, excluding all the minute details, is mostly for you to lead with Oscar defending you from behind. The two of you are to stick together like a pack, trying not to get seperated. It's clear Mark doesn't want Oscar to get pushed to a second drivers position either, not that the younger Aussie minds it, but knows you have a better chance of shooting ahead with overtaking last moment, so it's a weird balance back and forth for Mark alone. Add Sebastian in and it’s a whole mess.

Arriving in Bahrain, you and Oscar are ushered to the hotel to drop your stuff and then immediately to the paddocks. Its been a mix of dread and excitement for the whole eight hour flight, and Oscar's easy to talk to about it. Hence why you both buckle down in your drivers room, snacking and laying back.

"I still haven't spoken to Rhys about the swap." You admit when Oscar asks, causing him to hum as he leans back against the wall he's sitting against while you stretch against the opposite wall.

"I mean, you haven't really been home. We've practically lived in the garage for weeks." Oscar shrugs, "my sisters are getting real impatient with me not answering them, I imagine with Rhys being just as busy its hard."

"And now he's in a new time zone too. It's so weird." You huff, lowering the bar you've been using to stretch out your shoulders and neck absentmindedly while Oscar rolls his wrists out on one of the small pediatric balls you've been given.

And as deadpan as usual, he says, "It'll come up this weekend, probably. Are you still angry about it?"

You shrug. It's a betrayal, for sure. You'd both promised to always stick together, but here you were... left behind. Like all baby sisters were eventually. On the other hand, you understand his desire to chase what may give him the best chance at a strong future. No other team had offered you a contract, but McLaren wanted Rhys. So it made sense to you.

"Being conflicted is better than just hating him, y'know." Sebastian's voice chimes and you turn to the German who smiles softly, welcoming himself in. Not that you or Oscar will complain.

"I don't hate him, I don't think I can." You shrug, handing Oscar the pipe for his shoulders when he asks for it softly. Sebastian just nods, its not like he's told you that Rhys was chasing money rather than a dream.

"Twenty minutes to media," Mark steps in too, giving Sebastian a soft smile and nod in greeting before turning to you and Oscar, "How are you guys feeling?"

"Fine," Oscar hums, "same old, same old."

"A bit nervous." You admit and Seb leans over to nudge you while Mark gives you a sympathetic smile, but allows your strategist to give you a pep talk while he kneels down to talk with Oscar.

"Ay, it's not nothing you haven't already done." Sebastian leans on the wall near you as you stretch a bit, "Just go slow, and we'll be nearby if you need to like get out of a weird situation."

"Its not weird shit I'm worried about, its Rhys." You huff, leaning to pop your head on Sebastian's shoulder, "you know how he gets, and I don't want media getting any crazy ideas that we like.. hate each other or something."

"Do you hate Rhys?"

"I... I'm fucking pissed and right now, in this moment, I hate him a little bit."

Sebastian nods and wraps an arm around you, shrugging as he says, "You think after everything I did, I didn't hate at least one person in the moment? Hell no, it used to be impossible to put Mark and I in a room together."

Mark laughs at that, but nods.

"But, we got over it. Or, more so, I realized it wasn't his fault and that I was being reckless. But we were young, now we're older and we get it."

Mark chimes in, "Look at Lewis and Nico, they hated each other. But now Lewis buys Nico's girls gifts all the damn time."

"It's a rough patch," Oscar says when your expression looks a little too confused, "they're saying, basically, one day it's something you'll look back at and be able to accept. It's nothing set in stone. You and Rhys are two peas in a pod or whatever, just let what happens, happen. He's still your brother."

“I know it’s just… I dunno.” You groan, burying your face in your hands. There's not much more to say at that point, so Sebastian just gives you a hug and soft reassurances before sending you and Oscar off for media day. Oscar takes your wrist to tug you along, before you both get settled in the media pen, Logan's the first to come up to you.

"Why don't you go see Rhys? He's right over there!" Logan cheerily notes, giving you the biggest all-American smile he can muster.

And when you peek behind Logan, Rhys has amassed a small crowd with his flare. He's smiling, definitely chatting it up with one of the McLaren volunteers or interns and you feel a weird sickness settle in your stomach.

"Uhm. No, I don't think he wants to see me." You say, "I'll just stick with the interviews, I'm not used to this yet so I just wanna be in and out, y'know?"

Logan and Oscar share an odd look but simply let you go off on your own. And for the most part, media is kind to you. You doesn't have to worry about any harsh comments about being a woman, or rude assumptions about your relationship with Rhys after the exchange... or questions about your ex. It's surprising. But, that surprise, you mostly equate to Oscar literally glaring daggers at any reporter who even tries.

The best part of your day, however, is meeting Jenson. He happily brings you off to the side a bit more, laughing as he bids away, "your guard dog, Piastri."

But Oscar smiles and steps closer, humming as he says, "Hey, I don't trust half of these media people."

"Oh, neither do I." Jenson smiles, patting Oscar's arm to show the dismissal was in jest. Cameras capturing you laughing at the two, and answering Jenson's simple questions. It takes maybe twenty minutes, purely because you find Jenson hysterical as you both keep going back and forth. It's Sebastian who comes to get you and Oscar, shooing Jenson away as he shouts,

"You're stealing me and Mark's kids!"

"Oh! Are you two married now?" Jenson doesn't miss a beat, grinning and making everyone in the nearby area start laughing. Sebastian kicks at him jokingly, Jenson sticking his tongue out in jest as he dodges and then bids the Porsche drivers farewell.

The rest of media day passes in a blur, and by the time the last event rolls about, you've got Oscar's face squished against your shoulder as he softly snores. You're about the same distance away from completely falling asleep when Oscar's hand shifts from where it's across his stomach to wrap around you, and you smile, snuggling into the warmth that is your black cat of a teammate.

-

porscheracing

liked by f1, rhyspearce, markwebber, and 569k others...

porscheracing: look like our drivers had a long day!! see you tomorrow for our first ever quali!

oscarpiastri: in my defense I was tired ?

landonorris: i told you for two years naps rock, and now that we arent teammates you finally nap??

msdaisypearce: im a comfier pillow <3

landonorris: BETRAYAL OF THE HIGHEST ORDER.

rhyspearce: good luck!

msdaisypearce: the tik tok doom scroll rlly got to us

user1: ok seriously. they are dating.

-

Qualifying went... alright. Oscar ending in P7, with you, even after penalties from other drivers, ending up in P18. Rhys ending up P9.

You try not to let the side eyes and sneered comments over the low placement get to you, but its hard when its just about every damn male reporter. Lissie and Jenson are by the far the only saving graces you find in the absolute shit show that is the post Qualifying interviews, and then you tuck yourself into a corner in the back of your drivers room to hide from the world for a moment--headphones on and blasting something as you keep your head leaned against the wall.

Three knocks rumbling the wall cause you to open your eyes, Sebastian sitting down next to you. He taps his ears and you oblige, sliding the headphones off and pausing the music.

"You had a great drive today, you know that, right?" He hums and you shrug, "c'mon. Don't let the media get to you, it's your first race. A lot of drivers flunk their first race. You're new to the car and everything, just be a bit easier on yourself, okay?"

"I hold more than just my own successes on my shoulders, Seb. I hold the door for every other girl after me. Doriane, Chloe, Amna and Hamda, Maya, Bianca, Abbi-- you get it." You huff. Having come from F1 Academy, you'd spoken to Susie on countless occasions about how she felt like she'd closed the door. Never scoring points, never getting a podium. She made the academy to open it again, and you were the test subject of all of her hard work.

Hooray.

"If I fuck this up, how can any of them get here too?" you try to bite back the btter tone in your voice. It's not Sebastian's fault this all sucks, but hes the only person close enough to take your anger out on, and you grunt, "and Rhys isn't even here."

Sebastian just leans back against the wall a bit more for a few moments before he asks, "but would having Rhys here help?"

You pause, looking up at Sebastian as he watches your vacant expression, watching the way you slowly sink down and shake your head, "I think he would honestly make me feel worse. He's always been the better driver of us. People are gonna compare us a lot as is, but if we were on the same team I think it would be a lot worse."

Sebastian just nods slowly, then stands, offering you his hand so you can get up. He peels you off the floor, bringing you back out now to the much quieter garage. There's a few engineers walking around, and Sebastian brings you up to the monitors and sits you down.

"Look at your statistics." He says, pointing at the screen, then glancing over his shoulder as Mark approaches and leans on a nearby wall, and Sebastian continues, "your marks, overall, are almost just as high as Oscars are. See? In training, you guys are neck and neck. I honestly think you were just in your head about it today, tomorrow you're gonna have the track nailed down, and know how the cars gonna handle, it hopefully it'll be easier for you."

Mark turns to leave then, giving a curt nod in goodbye. You notice the odd bristling along Sebastian's shoulders, but make an effort not to mention it. Not worth digging into years worth of drama this late on a race night.

"Just..." Sebastian sighs when he can tell you arent' fully convinced, "Go out there tomorrow, try your best. There's no real... real danger if you do terribly. Media can say whatever, but what matters most is here in this garage, right?"

"Sure." You sigh, "sure. Thanks, Seb."

"Don't mention it, Dais. Go get some sleep." He smiles, punching your shoulder as he stands, turning to the offices to go collect his items. You get up, moving to the hall where the drivers rooms are and pause. Mark murmurs something to Oscar with crossed arms, and you'd feel rude to interrupt or accidentally eavesdrop. But when Oscar's eyes meet yours, you can't deny the flame of competitiveness you see in them.

Oh boy. Here we go.

-

It's hot. Abnormally hot for Bahrain at night in March, settling around 32 degrees celsius. It's set to drop quickly to somewhere around 15, but you're burning up as you start the race. Hands stay firm on the wheel, your eyes firm on the Alpine ahead of you.

Your engineer, Jovanni, is softly speaking in your ear as you cruise around the first few passes, getting you firmly into P16 within the first five or so laps. You squeeze around Lance, getting some sort of near miss as you force him out of the way in the turn, and confirm your spot ahead of him.

"Keep pushing, you're doing amazing so far." Jovanni says, "uh... adjustment up for rotary, everything else seems good."

"Copy." you take a sip of water, adjusting the rotary in the straight as you come up alongside Alonso. Which is... such a weird feeling when you grew up watching him win as a kid. As you get level with his back wheels with your front, you go around the turn and are forced wide. It knocks you back behind him but you hum, speeding up to take the inside line in the next turn.

You almost make contact, but luckily he eases off to the wide and you manage to get in front of him. A soft laugh leaving your throat as you happily grin at the feeling. It's weird to pass a childhood hero, but you grip your hands tighter on the steering wheel as you press forward.

"Great overtake, keep pace." Jovanni says and you affirm his statement, pushing forward to where Checo's fallen back due to car issues in the first few laps. Glancing ahead in the crowded turn, you see Oscar overtake someone beautifully, and then you maneuver your way to the outside of the curve to try and overtake Checo.

And shit.

"Contact with Perez." You curse as his rear tires hit yours, "not sure of damage."

"Still on the track?"

"Yessir." You push ahead, but Checo blocks you. So, its a comfy P14 for now.

"Copy, box this lap."

You continue driving, keeping yourself firmly behind Checo until it becomes apparent someone is riding your ass a bit too close. Glancing in your rearviews you can see an Aston Martin, but you aren't sure which one. Pressing to keep the racing line as best you can, you force your way closer to Checo until there's a sudden slow. Cursing, you break and weave out of the way of whacking into the back of the Red Bull in front of you, but not of the Aston behind you.

The driver hits you and nails you into the gravel, causing you to spin out. It takes you a moment to recover, but quickly you push yourself back onto the track.

"Whichever Aston hit me needs to be paying better attention, he's being dangerous." You grumble out the complaint, "Definitely have damage."

"Get back in and box, we'll go from there." Jovanni says, but he sounds void of any confidence he might've had prior to this. You let out a string of frustrated curses and continue the drive, not worrying about passing or getting too far up before you have to box. Its a struggle just to keep the car moving at the point, and you can feel dread pooling in your gut. As you pull to the pits, you're disappointed to see Sebastian standing off the pitwall and instead at door of the garage.

"Damage is too extensive to the rear axle, you're going to have to retire the car." Jovanni says softly and you feel your head just fall to hit the steering wheel.

And then you lift your head and slam your hand into the steering wheel, "Motherfucker!"

By the time you're approached by Sebastian, it's been long enough for you to stew in your anger in your drivers room. You'd been taking our your anger on one of the training tennis balls, throwing it at the wall progressively harder until the small green scuff on the wall started to turn into more of a dent. After the last throw, you just batted it down to the ground like a cat and sunk to a ball on the couch in frustrated tears.

"Not yours, but he got a ten second time penalty." Sebastian's voice chimes from the door, you can't even find the strength to look over. He continues, "Oscar had brake issues, ended P10. Honestly, a better start than I was expecting."

Your head perks up at that, narrowing at Sebastian who just shrugs, "two drivers completely new to cars that have never been on the track before, from a brand new team? I expected P20 and P19."

"I had to DNF." You deadpan, "that should count as a shit start."

"Y/n. You got rear-ended because Stroll couldn't keep his eyes focused on one thing at once. It wasn't your fault, it happens." He stays in the doorway, eyes narrow on you, but Sebastian doesn't make a move to come into the room. He can sense you need the space.

When you don't respond he just sighs, "Look. You've got media in twenty. So you have about fifteen minutes to wipe the attitude off, Pearce."

The door clicks shut shortly after and you groan into the air, slowly dragging yourself up. Media. Yay. After ten minutes of pacing to get the last bits of angry energy out, you change into normal team gear and head out to the main bit of the garage to find whichever poor soul from the PR team is going to have to deal with your mood. You get stuck with a just out of highschool girl named Mollie, shes shy and bouncy as you walk, and her excitement rubs off on you a bit.

You ask her a few questions about her work within Porsche and she happily explains how much she adores the media team, and you let her go on and on while you walk because its sweet.

And when you get to the reporters, and she can sense you tense up, she gives a tiny smile.

"Media can be bitches," she murmurs lowly, making you laugh as you wait for the Bahrain reporter to organize his notes, "just give it back to them."

You give her a little fistbump, seeing a friendship forming in front of you, before you start down the wall of reporters. Most are very forgiving of your race result, wishing you better luck for the rest of the season. You make it halfway down, finding yourself in front of Sky News. Jenson is kind, happy to report to you, giving you a hug when you tell him how frustrated you were with your placement. And then you make it to the last ESPN reporter.

He's a lively guy, accent clearly from somewhere in the States. He starts calmly, slowly bringing you in, before you can see the pin is about to drop. Even Mollie sends you a nervous look.

"And, I wanted to avoid bringing it up, but how did you feel after the rear-ending that ended in your retirement from the race?"

You sigh, digging through your head to formulate some sort of classy response, eventually stammering out, "I mean.. it's unfortunate. We all had to slow due to an accident on the track. I tried to swerve out of the way, but Stroll drove into the back of me. He damaged my rear axle enough I had to retire. It's unfortunate but sometimes it happens."

"Yes, it is unfortunate." The reporter nods, looking over to his camera man before saying, "We did speak to Lance about this earlier. And uhm... he said, to quote, 'she's an idiot. You can't just stop in the middle of the race so yeah, I hit her. Maybe she should go back to F1 Academy and learn how to drive, or not have paid for a seat in F1.'"

Your jaw ticks shut. Mollie clears her throat and you glance down as she shows you whatever your PR agent wants you to say and you shake your head at her. She nods softly as you murmur, "no, thats too nice for a dick like Stroll."

Turning back, you lean closer to the mic hissing through your teeth, "Well, for one, Stroll has a lot of room to talk about being a pay driver. He's got a lot of room. And Lance has been driving for how long? He's not a bad driver, never has been particularly awful, but he's got a lot of attitude. I don't need to go anywhere to learn how to drive, and I'll come back next race and show that. Trust me. But what Lance may need to do is hire someone to teach him to not opening his mouth when it should be shut. This isn't the first time, and I know it won't be the last. He wasn't looking, he drove into the back of me, end of story."

The reporter blinks, shocked at the sharpness of your voice as you continue with a rough growl to your tone, "Everyone knows you watch the car in front of you. That's like the cardinal rule of driving. Regardless of if you're on in a road car or on a race track. He put me in danger, and if the accident had been worse, other drivers in danger -- especially with how fast we were going. He should rethink his choices before commenting on my skill and my ability. I got here because I deserve to be here, end of--" you click your tongue to avoid cursing, "end of story."

The reporter just slowly nods, thanking you for your time, and as you leave Mollie grins as she says, "that was kinda badass."

"Thanks," you grin, taking a drink of the Red Bull you snagged off a random table in the garage earlier, "I feel better now."

"Good." Mollie giggles and you smile, moving along with her back to the garage.

liked by sebastianvettel, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, and 816k others...

msdaisypearce: not the first race i wanted to have in f1. but we keep pushing. see u in saudi <3!

user1: last pic is a whole mood

oscarpiastri: no pic credits :(?

⤷ msadaisypearce: ur so spoiled. (oscar took the last pic)

user2: shes an f1 driver and yet didn't post herself in uniform?

user3: erm. oki girl whtv u say like u didn't slam on the brakes.

rhyspearce: u did ur best !!

⤷ user4: why is this so passive aggressive??

⤷ user5: daisy hasn't even LIKED her brothers posts since he moved to mcl

⤷ user6: that's so conceited of her. like if ur butthurt ur brother got a better team just be better next time?

sebastianvettel: tough start of the season but like i said before, you've got this kid !!

user7: her beef w lance is SOOO good like pop off daisy

user8: just proving f1a hasn't prepared its drivers AT ALL.

( taglist is open ! )

@evie-119

[iamasimperyk]

Mrs. Cameron

Summary: You just graduated, so Rafe took you on a vacation to celebrate it, making sure to make it unforgettable.

Warnings: Fluff, Not proof read, English is not my first language

Pairing: Professor!Rafe x Reader

"You like it here?" Rafe asked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"It's beautiful. Thanks for taking me with you," You smiled up at your former professor.

A few days ago you finally finished college and officially started dating Rafe. To celebrate your success, he took you on a vacation to Hawaii.

It was mesmerising there, and things couldn't be better between the two of you.

"I planned something special for tonight," he murmured into the crook of your neck.

You let out a small giggle, "Another surprise?"

"I could never get tired of surprising my beautiful angel." He told you.

"You are so cliché, you know that, Mr. Cameron?" You kissed his cheek before pulling away from him, "I have to get ready now. Can't look like this when you have some big surprise for me."

He slightly shook his head, "You look stunning, even with the towel on your head."

You let out another giggle before disappearing into the bathroom.

Rafe let out a sigh. He planned out the whole night. He wanted to show you how serious he was when it came to your relationship.

You accepted his past and loved his daughter as if she was your own. Also, you accepted his ex and became quite good friends, which was weird at first, but it was better than the two of you hating each other.

Rafe couldn't help but smile as he thought about last weekend.

"I had a nightmare. Where is daddy?" Daisy mumbled, standing in front of your shared bed.

"He is still in his office, sweetie. Do you want to sleep in here tonight? Maybe I can also protect you from the bad things you dreamed about." You suggested with a tired voice, and she just nodded before quickly getting in the bed.

Daisy cuddled up to you quickly, "Thank you for letting me stay here."

You smiled down at the little girl, not believing how things between you and Rafe turned out.

Rafe listened to the conversation between his daughter and you that night, and he finally realized that you were the one.

-----

"Can I take the blindfold off yet?" You giggled as you squeezed Rafe's hand a little bit more.

"We are almost there," he replied, but his nervousness was noticeable.

After a few more minutes, he stopped walking and let go of your hand, "Okay, you can take it off now."

There he was, kneeling in front of you, a diamond ring nestled in a red velvet box.

Your eyes widen immediately, and you put a hand over your mouth.

"Y/n Y/l/n, the first time I met you I was your professor. I remember how you came in, wearing those stupid stockings. I immediately felt drawn to you, and I hated it at first. I was your professor, and I knew that having feelings for you could cost me my job. I was also quite sure that a stunning girl like you would never fall for someone like me. However, for some unknown reason, you did recognize me and chose to be with me," Rafe started his speech and had you crying after the first words, "We have had our ups and downs, but we are here now, together and happy. I know we haven't been together for ages, but I am quite sure you are my soulmate even if you are young and have your whole life ahead of you. I just hope to play a part in it for a little while longer. Y/n Y/l/n, I love you with all my heart, and nothing would make me happier than to call you my wife. Will you marry me?"

You were nodding frantically while the mascara you had just applied half an hour ago was running down your cheeks.

"Words, darling," Rafe smirked a little.

"God, yes, Rafe. A million times yes." You hiccuped, and he put the beautiful ring on your finger.

Rafe stood up, kissing you passionately before he pulled away as the two of you ran out of air, "Mrs. Cameron. I like the sound of that."

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-week Day 3 - mutual pining

i'm challenging myself to keep each of these at 660 words; see day one for more of an explanation!

Eddie's campaign notes:

Front:

Broad-chested paladin named steve stephano stevas with immaculate golden skin and chestnut hair, oath of the crown watchers, who decides to come along when he finds out the party is heading to

young rogue meets the party and wants to tag along but their overprotective older brother stolas (stop with the st names!!) insists on coming along in order for the rogue to join

jeeves carrington, eventual big bad who butles for the party while they're at the

Asshole King prince stefan havisham (great job getting away from an st name, idiot) who wants to join the party on their quest and get out of the palace for a while

He’s part of the kingdom of the sun so he takes his family’s heirloom, the Sun Blade along with him (he's trained as a knight and is already proficient in long swords) ((1d8 +2 bonus to attack and damage, radiant not slashing undead = + extra 1d8 rad. damage.))

Back:

He butts heads with all of them at first but learned a lot from the party and becomes actually a good dude)

The prince ends up falling for a tiefling bard they meet in passing on the road

Prince would’ve been an asshole to the tiefling at first, but when the bard saves him from a very obvious trap, he starts to back off “Watch where you’re stepping, sunshine.”, “Why do you call me that?”, Edmund (needs to be something different or they'll catch on!!!), who’s fallen head over tail for the prince already: “Because i’m a creature of the night and hate the sun, obviously”

him and Stefan butt heads the whole time he's along for the journey but when the bard is gravely injured it’s revealed how much he cares for the prince. The prince too has fallen for the bard and rides off with him to the nearest village to a healer

The prince and bard get married and live happily ever after

ugh, gross. too much, eddie

Steve's (L to R, top to bottom):

May 25th

It’s been a couple months since spring break and Eddie and Max are finally out of the hospital. We got lucky, I think, our plan working out and all, but seeing them both there really sucked.

Max’ll get her cast off eventually, and Eddie's “heroics” cost him a pound of flesh but they’re alive and so is Hopper.

Now we just gotta get Eddie's name cleared.

July 18th

I think there’s something wrong with me.

The assholes were over again today and that meant Eddie was too. Shirtless... In the pool.. Wet.. tattooed…

You’d think that seeing his scars would make me sick, make me think of the blood, the crying, that goddamn place.. But there was a whole different kind of swirling in my gut about it

Ew! Gross!

Robin, stay out of my journal

Oct 11th

Ok. yep. I definitely want to kiss him.

I want to kiss Eddie Munson on that stupid pretty face of his.

Robs and I went to indy and found this bookstore heading back to the car from that cafe we like and it was a gay store. it had books and pamflit pampflet brosures booklet things about gay stuff and the cashier was super nice.. we spent hours there. 

I’m bisexual.

Nov 5th

Gross!!!

ROBIN STAY OUT

Ok, this isn’t fair.

Every single thought in my brain recently is about him. How would he kiss me? Would I make the first move or would he? What would it feel like if it was his hand instead of mine? Would his rings hurt? Nope. they’d feel amazing.

I want to hug him, i want to hold his hand, i want to fuckin marry him..

Steve Munson Theodore Harrington? ❤ (<- can you believe that’s actually his first name?? I couldn't believe it when Wayne told me).

Wait. You can combine names when you get married (no, I haven’t been researching anything, shut up) So Harringson? Munington?

We’ll have a fall wedding.

it was still 660 words on wordcounter.net too 😌

on AO3 here!

[lookingfts]

Since I read "If I lose myself tonight," I've been thinking about a fic where Kate gets pregnant by Anthony after a night together while she still hates him. After watching S3 and seeing all those hints that Anthony gets very excited about Kate being pregnant, I can only think about a pregnancy fic where they (she) are enemies. Do you have something like that in mind?

I mean, imagine what a mess it would be if she had gotten pregnant after that night they had together.

That's a great prompt! I don't write much in the way of pregnancy fics (mostly because I've never been pregnant and I don't want to do the research I would need to do about it), but never say never. In the meantime, here are a few fics I really enjoy that have that same vibe:

A Bolt from the Blue by @waterlilyrose Your Love Was My One and Only Shot by @newtonsheffield take my hand, wreck my plans (that's my man) by yetanotheremptypage A Devil's Love by formerlyIR

As always, feel free to recommend any fics I missed!

[nalyra-dreaming]

Nalyra, one other thing that with the changes made I'm not sure fits is the take that claudia and louis had their fates sealed from the moment they met the coven.

That was the case in the novels.

However, here it looks like claudia was accepted and then the trial was planned only when the coven found out the truth about lestat right about when Madeleine was turned.

If this is the case, then why make claudia wear the baby dress and humiliate her for two years before they learned the truth?

My theory was that it was armand that made that happen on his own at first because he wanted her to kill herself ( he says that will happen either way) and because he disliked how she treated lestat and disapproved.

And how she monopolized louis maybe.

However none of these were explicitly confirmed as they somewhat were in the novels, so the treatment claudia received from the coven before they learned the truth( re: Celeste and Estelle hate me ) doesn't exactly make sense.

What do you think?

Since Armand knew since the beginning I think it is safe to say he did things on purpose. So yes, the dress was a deliberate try to break her (already, since he thought she would anyways).

I think the turning of Madeleine kind of tipped the scale as per the… immediacy. Armand is a stickler for the rules, even later on, and that was a direct affront, too, after he had said no.

He probably saw his hand forced. And Louis‘ love … had disappointed him, and so he returned to what he believed he had. He chose.

Of course the trial did not go as planned… and the aftermath didn’t either (as it stands right now at least - I still think Magnus‘ tower wölikely went differently).

[elisysd]

18. You know I dream in color and do the things I want

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Stronger (What doesn’t kill you) - Kelly Clarkson

Charles was so excited to have you back in the paddock with him. His performances and the car were starting to get better and he knew that your presence would only bring extra motivation to him. You had explained to him in thorough detail your plan and showed him notes and a list of guests you would love to have. If it had stung to not see his name on top of it at first, he quickly understood where your goal was lying. 

“Luc would be so proud of you, you know,” he whispered in your ear as you were drifting on and off of sleep in his private jet as you were on your way to Austin.

He was almost sure to find you smiling sadly hearing the name of your brother or to see the spark in your eyes dim. But it wasn’t the case. Instead, your smile got broader and your eyes shone brighter. 

“I’m going to try to have Newey on the podcast. He was Luc’s idol.”

“I thought I was!”

“And you are,” you laughed. “but Newey isn’t far behind you. And truthfully, I’m so curious to chat with him. I want to know what is written inside that red notebook.”

“Me too. Please, if you manage to have access to it, can you take pictures of what is inside so Ferrari knows how to build a fast car for next year?”

You laughed as you cuddled to his side, trying to make yourself comfortable. There was nothing you hated more on earth than taking the plane. Being thousand miles away from the ground without any options to rely on if things started to go wrong was not a pleasant feeling. You couldn’t wait for the flight to be over and to step out of the private jet, breathing clear air. 

It was the late evening when you finally made it to Austin. You were not that tired and wanted to take the opportunity to meet your old colleagues downtown. Some would say, you had hidden motivations and the get together was not coming from pure intentions. You preferred to see it as mixing business with pleasure for once. Seeing Jean and Marion made your heart miss a beat. You had braced yourself with the feeling that meeting them again would inevitably bring back old memories. Their friendly faces reminded you of the first time you stepped foot in the office, as a freshly new joiner, all lost, confused but still eager to learn. The first GP and interviews under Marion’s wing, the first pre-race meeting and first debrief. It seemed like a lifetime ago when in fact it had only been a few months. So much had changed. You had changed. 

“Y/N! I’m so happy to see you,” Marion greeted you, a smile on her face before engulfing you in a hug. 

“It’s good to be here with you guys.”

“So… your little project? Care to tell us more about it. I have to say, I’m very excited,” Jean threw an arm around your shoulder, before guiding you to their table.

You spent the next hours explaining in every detail your plan and how you would put it into action. When you finally were over, Marion smirked and rummaged through her handbag before handing you something you knew very well. 

“If you really are going to create your own media, you need a pass,” she winked. 

“I suppose. But I don’t think this one works anymore,” you said, bittersweet, caressing your old pass suddenly feeling nostalgic.  

“Well, you are arriving with Charles so you don’t have to scan his one at the entry. But no one will verify thoroughly if you wear it inside the paddock. They only need to see media on it to let you have access to the areas,” Jean assured you. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay with lying.”

“You don’t lie. You’re still a journalist, right?”

Coming back to the hotel, later than expected, you found Charles mindlessly scrolling on his phone, his cap backwards and in his loungewear. You kissed him before sitting in front of him to expose him the situation and your plan. 

“So it is like a James Bond roleplay? You’re infiltrating the paddock. Can I be your James Bond girl?”

“You’re an idiot,” you chuckled. 

“But seriously, isn’t it risky?”

“It is, I guess. But if I give up because it is a bit risky, what does it say of me? I really want to make this media happen. And I know you could help and you also know that I appreciate it, but it is something I need to do by myself. I’ve been so used to living my life for others that I don’t know who I really am. What I like and what I want.  This is the first time I’m doing something that feels right on every level. Please, allow me to get to the bottom of my idea. If it’s not working, then I’ll ask for your help. Until then, please step aside. I know you believe in me and I know you support me. It’s enough.”

You could see on Charles’ face that you were asking a lot from him but after a few seconds, he nodded. 

The next day, you arrived a little later than him at the paddock and made your way to the Ferrari’s hospitality where Rebeca, Carlos’ new girlfriend, was typing on her computer, probably working. You hadn’t had the occasion to talk to her that much besides a few ‘hello’ here and there. You didn’t have anything against her, you just knew you didn’t have anything in common to talk about. She was the typical wag, you were not and you had no desire to become. Most people were busy, as always when it was media day. Everyone had their own thing to do and babysitting wags were not on their list, which was exactly what you needed. 

You were searching for one person in particular. You wanted to launch the first episode of your podcast during the break between Interlagos and Las Vegas, so you could have time to meet with graphists to launch the promotional operation of your baby, for which you still didn’t have a name. But it was almost at lunchtime that your best opportunity appeared. Silvia Hoffer, Ferrari’s media team lead, entered the room and you almost jumped out of your seat to reach her. 

She seemed surprised to see you and you could feel her judgmental eyes scanning you from top to bottom. You never had the occasion to talk to her much, Charles advising you to avoid her, but you had always been curious of her position. She was a key element in the well oiled machine that was Ferrari’s PR and you were sure she was a very interesting person. That’s why she was in pole position on your people to interview list. 

“Silvia. Nice to see you here,” you started the conversation. 

“Well, I’m working here,” she replied, almost ignoring you.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m talking to you,” you blurted out with confidence, catching her off guard. 

“And could you tell me what you need, Y/N?”

“Two hours of your time.”

She laughed in disbelief but you didn’t budge. If you wanted to make this work, you needed all the self-confidence you could find in you. 

“And for what? What mistakes have Charles made that I need to fix? Are you pregnant?”

“Actually, he didn’t do anything and he also doesn’t know that I’m talking to you. I’m here for a more… personal matter.”

She glanced suspiciously at you and you gulped before continuing. 

“I’m launching my own media, a podcast, where I want to interview people from the paddock who work behind the scenes and you are on my list. You have such an important role inside of Ferrari. You are a direct link between us, the media people, and the drivers. It’s essential and I would love for more people to get to know your role, get to know you. I’m sure you could inspire so many people out there. It would be an hour-long interview where you could talk about your journey to F1, all the hardships and amazing moments. I know you worked with Fernando Alonso and McLaren, surely there are things that you could share.”

“I see you did your research.”

“I came prepared.”

You saw her hesitating and contemplating the idea. It was already a win for you. She sighed and sat on a chair, her coffee between her hands as she motioned you to join her. 

“I’m not used to people wanting to talk to me for who I am and what I do. Usually they depict me as a witch and that’s it, it doesn’t go deeper than that.”

“Maybe it could be the occasion to prove them wrong, then,” you smiled as you left her alone to think your offer through. But as you were making your way to your side of the hospitality, you smirked, convinced that you had managed to book your very first guest. 

She came to find you at the end of the afternoon as you were working on the interview’s conduct.

“When would you like the recording to take place?” she asked. 

“Does it mean that you are okay with the interview?”

“I wouldn’t ask this question if I wasn’t.”

“Well, as soon as possible, I guess. I have all my equipment with me and I can set them up easily.”

“I should be out of there around 8pm, we could do that in my hotel room, if that suits you.”

“It’s perfect,” you smiled and nodded as she came back to where she was coming from. 

When she was out of eyesight and no one was around to witness it, you bumped your fist in the air and jumped around. You were ninety percent convinced she was going to accept but you didn’t want to consider it like a done deal before you had her fully agreeing.  

You finished preparing everything right when Charles appeared in the hospitality, cowboy hat on his head and a big buckle around his waist, making you laugh. 

“Howdy lady? Where is the bull that I have to take down today?”

“You look amazing. Let me take a picture, I’m sure your fans would appreciate the view.”

“Please don’t! They are making fun of my clothes enough,” he shook his head as he bent down to kiss the top of your head. “What is that?” he asked, nodding in the direction of your screen opened on your notes and making you close it precipitaly. 

“Work. I have my first guest lined-up and ready to be interviewed tonight,” you announced, excited. 

“Already? Damn, you are fast! I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew you could do it. And who is it?” 

“Silvia.”

“Silvia? As in red witch Silvia? The one who wanted me to find a girlfriend to make me look good? We are talking about the same Silvia?” 

“We do, indeed.”

“And you are interviewing her? Why?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Because I believe she is not what you make her look like. You are judging her based on how she behaves and does her job. Which is also what you did with me and what I did with you and look how we turned out. She deserved to have a chance to tell her story and to let people judge her based on who she really is and not what we made her out to be. Don’t you think?”

“You’re too nice.”

“No, Charles, I’m not nice. I’m nosy as fuck.” 

You met Silvia at eight, like it was planned and she was already waiting for you. She had changed out of her Ferrari’s gear for a more casual look. You setted up the microphones, the recorder and the two cameras, one behind your ear and one between both of you so you could get filmed too and once it was all ready, you started the interview. You quickly understood that Silvia, if she was appearing like a witch for most people, was doing it out of protectiveness. She cared a lot about the drivers and their reputation and well being. Like a she-wolf with her wolf cubs. She was passionate about her job and you could see her eyes sparkling when she was talking about it. And soon enough, it was over. You noticed that you had talked more than what you had agreed on and as you were packing everything with her help, she suddenly stopped you. 

“I think I should thank you. It’s the first time I get to talk about my job and reflect on my career with someone so willing to listen and to know more. It was a nice moment, way nicer than what I expected it to be.”

“I had a nice time too. It was very enlightening and I can’t wait to release it.” 

“When will it be?”

“I still have to announce it and promote it, so I guess it will be at the end of the season. After Abu Dhabi. It gives me enough time to record and edit enough episodes to last a while.”

“Well… if you need help to find other guests or if they need someone to testify how good you are at making the interviews… just reach out.”

You opened and closed your mouth, not sure of what to say. It was unexpected but it meant a lot to you. 

“Thanks Silvia. For having been such an amazing first guest and for having been willing to trust me.”

When you arrived in your shared room with Charles, he was already fast asleep. You smiled to yourself, changed into your pajamas after a quick run to the bathroom to wash your face and slipped under the blanket. You looked at your boyfriend’s face, frowning in his sleep, and you lightly touched his face making him relax under your fingers. For the first time in a long time, you were feeling at peace with every area of your life. You were feeling fulfilled in your personal life and your professional one was starting to get exciting. 

But you knew that all good things had to come to an end at some point and a part of you was bracing itself for the blow that would make your world crumble. You knew it would happen eventually. You could only hope it would arrive in a very long time. 

Author's note: When I was saying in the previous chapter that updates should be more frequent, I wasn't expecting to be able to write a whole new chapter this soon lmao. But here we are. I hope you liked it.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13 @aundercover @snowflakesfluff @fictional-l0v3r @queensassybitchsworld @jehun @reengard @valntynebaby

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[hwasshvur]

Little siss i’m proud of how far you’re coming along!! With that being said i’m leaving a request for a best friend vampire! seonghwa who turns the reader after she gets hurt and near death - asia 💋

Now big sis ... You know I had to run and write this as fast as I could. Why would you do this to me knowing that Seonghwa is my husband in my head? </3 - Nasia

This will definitely have that interview with a vampire feel when they turn Claudia! (If you watched the show yk )

Eternal bonds

Pairing: Vampire! Seonghwa x Female reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Death, Blood, Near death experience, Murder

12:26 PM.

"I'll be okay! It's not every day you see a vampire seong" You said to your best friend as you gave him one last hug. Seonghwa and his group were going on a meeting with other vampires, As much as he wanted you to go he knew he couldn't he wasn't risking his best friend being used as a Kool-Aid jammer by the other vampires. "I know but please be careful when you're going out tonight there are wild vampires that lurk where you're going tonight" He sighed and kissed your cheek. You nodded with a small smile "I will" you said backing away to hug Wooyoung and Yeosang. You wave goodbye to them as they get in the limo. "Well, it's just me and the bodyguards until 10 pm," you said to yourself. You walked into your room and started cleaning up.

9:29PM.

You're on the phone with your friends Ruby and Lisa talking and getting ready "Soooo...Y/N are you planning on having a one-night stand or did you and MATZ ( hint of a story ?? ) finally stop ignoring your feelings and get together." Lisa asked as she added the final touches to her makeup. "Me and MATZ do not have anything going on" You rolled your eyes as you fixed your hair. "Right..." Ruby said spraying her perfume. "Whateverrr I'll see you guys at the club," You said laughing and hanging up. Your phone was at 100% so you didn't need to charge it phone as you walked outside to the car your bodyguard turned out your phone dinged it was from Seonghwa. 'Be careful star...<3' You smiled and replied 'I will <3" you got in the car. looking out the window as you left the mansion. "Hey angel" you called to your bodyguard. "Yes miss?" The bodyguard responded as he looked at you through the rearview mirror. "Can you go back to the house when I arrive at the club I don't want to be followed" You asked fixing your bracelets nervously you never asked that before knowing that ATEEZ would've been on your ass for even thinking about wandering alone with a bodyguard. "I can't do that," Angel said looking at you with pity. "Please. It's embarrassing to even have fun knowing you're watching me." You said bunching your fists. Angel sighed and kept his eyes on the road as he found a parking space "Okay fine. But if anything happens you call me." Angel said getting out of the car and walking towards your side of the car and opening the door. "Thank you so much!" you said smiling at the muscular man walking towards your friends. "You look so good!" Ruby said twirling you around. "Thank you y'all look so sexy!" You giggled. "I love your dress Y/N," Lisa said hugging you. "Thank you! Let's go get some drinks." You smiled and walked inside the club with your friends.

You and your friends had danced for two hours and sat down and started drinking for the other 30 minutes you were tipsy when you decided to walk out of the club for fresh air hating the stuffy air that was inside the building. "Are you lost little lamb?" A voice called out to you. You turned around and saw a man dressed up in a suit and tie his hair perfectly slicked back. "I'm perfectly fine." You said sbering up completely and turned your back and continued walking. You weren't stupid you knew he was a vampire and you were damned if you let him drain you dry right here and right now. You walked still through his faint footsteps behind you until you saw a gas station that was open 24 hours and decided to walk in there and explain to the worker that a man who was all dressed up was following you. The worker told you to hide in the far back aisle and call a ride and that's what you did. But not even 10 minutes later you heard a scream, as you peeked your head out the aisle you saw the worker getting his heart ripped straight out by the vampire. Your eyes widened as you texted seonghwa. 'Help. Vampire followed me out of the club and followed me to a gas station and killed the worker' You sent your location and started to dial Angel your bodyguard when... "What do you think you're doing?" The vampire said to you before he jumped on top of you and bit you drinking only a little bit of your blood and letting the rest surround your body as you lay there choking on your own blood..

When you sent Seonghwa the message he wasted no time and grabbed the 7 of his members ran out of the house they were in and demanded their driver to speed to the location you gave to him. Wooyoung and Yeosang were trying to calm him down as his eyes darkened. While the others clearly were on Seonghwa's side repeating "What if he kidnapped her or worst fucking kidnapped her?" The pair eventually gave up because they were scared of what happened to you. As the driver finally made it to the destination Seonghwa wasted zero time and looked for you and that's when he saw legs hanging out of the back aisle while the others looked for this vampire around and out of the store. His non-beating heart dropped as he ran to you that's when he saw you coughing "Seong..." You said coughing up blood. He picked you up holding you. "Star...don't talk.." He said analyzing your neck. He didn't want to turn you but he had to and he knew it. He was begging for you to forgive him in his head as he lifted your body up and began to drink your blood. You whined and winced in pain trying to push him off with like 1% of energy left in you. He suddenly stopped and bit his wrist and brought it to your mouth and that's when your hazy eyes shot up full of "life" as you held his wrist to your mouth until he jerked his wrist back. "Welcome back star." He said smiling to you.

[merp-blerp]

A Gaylor/Kaylor Interpretation of "But Daddy I Love Him", Despite It Being Obvious, 'Cause Happy Pride

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

"I forget how the West was won // I forget if this was ever fun // I just learned these people only raise you // To cage you"

The opening line is a reference to a film called How the West Was Won (1962). I'm not well-versed in this film, but I know that older American Western films and the American cowboy aesthetic in general often represent male masculinity, and by extension, male heterosexuality, romanticized into picture-esque imagery of wealthy, cis, white, straight manly men ruling the West through violence. All this despite the fact that historically, many cowboys (not just boys/men, of course, so cow-folk maybe, if that's even a term) were broke queer people, often people of color, trying to survive. Similarly to Taylor, these individuals have had their queer history erased all for the sake of marketability and giving a general audience a more traditionally palatable and relatable portrayal of reality to consume. (For more on this topic, Kaz Rowe has two great videos on queer cowboy history and the queerness of cowboy movies, if that interests you.)

With "how the West was won" not being capitalized like a film title, it seems clear that while she's referencing the movie, she's not directly talking about How the West Was Won (1962). I think this line might hark back to "Cowboy Like Me", a song about Taylor (and her lover) swindling the public into assuming they're straight and the industry "rich folks" into thinking they'll abide by their rules forever. If she continues to beard and swindle she'll win the hearts of the general public more and more, or the hetero "west", but she forgets what the benefits of doing that at the unknowing cost of her happiness were. From my perspective, if Taylor forgets how the West was won, she's saying she forgets what the long-term value of hiding her queerness with straight narratives and beardings had in her mind once upon a time. She forgets if she ever found the beardings/stunts fun in her youth because she has now learned that "these people", likely industry people who have had hands in her career, only closeted her for their own money benefits, not truly caring about her at all.

"Sarahs and Hannahs in their Sunday best // Clutchin' their pearls, sighing, "What a mess" // I just learned these people try and save you // 'Cause they hate you."

I think many songs or moments in TTPD are Taylor envisioning/anticipating what could happen if she were to come out. Obviously, the main source of bigotry against queer people is warped religious beliefs, so the "Sarahs and Hannahs in their Sunday best" are homophobes in this reading, but considering Taylor's fanbase and the feminine names chosen, they could very specifically be swifties who are overprotective of Taylor. Swifties who do deplorable things in the name of protecting Taylor's honor, such as doxxing gaylors online because they disagree with them and see suggesting Taylor's queerness as immoral. These types of swifties will often call the act of speculation on Taylor's queerness "gross" and lean on the reasoning for that being that speculation is invasive, even though Taylor herself has never commented against speculation of her queerness in any way when she very well could if it bothered her. Therefore they have no actual clue if that's how Taylor sees it, it's just their homophobic opinion that the suggestion of queerness is gross and they project the opinion onto Taylor as if anti-speculation should be universal when it's not nearly that simple. They see the act of the Taylor sexuality discourse existing as a mess.

If Taylor is queer, seeing that a number of her fans find queerness disgusting would produce incredibly negative feelings, whether it's anger or sadness. While I don't think every anti-speculation swiftie has these particular feelings towards it (it's complicated and could have a post of it's own), some hetlors hate speculation because they know that it could be correct. If Taylor were out as queer she'd become a "queer thing" they couldn't enjoy the same way anymore; she wouldn't be their mirrorball anymore, and that's terrifying because for many that's Taylor's appeal. If she's queer she's no longer this bestie, big sister, twin from your dreams type of artist to hetlors, she's this "other" that belongs to "others". This subsection of fans try to defend her because they, consciously or not, hate the idea that an assumed "straight" woman could actually be queer and unlike them. And therefore they indirectly hate her. The real her. They'd rather have the brand Taylor Swift because they can relate to it more, so they don't want to see her. "You needed me, but you needed drugs more" (from "COSOSOM"). They try to "save" her from being seen/out 'cause they hate her.

"Too high a horse // For a simple girl // To rise above it // They slammed the door // On my whole world // The one thing I wanted."

Both the "Sarahs and Hannahs" and "Elders" exhibit a sense of superiority Taylor feels like she can't rise above by being simple. Many anti-speculation people see their opinion as the politically correct thing to do. Therefore it's superior to speculation in their eyes, despite the fact that speculation can be a critical step to finding other queers and even can be used as a form of coming out—letting people speculate. They're on "too high a horse". The attempted Lover coming out was very simple, with Taylor flagging rainbows without an obvious showing of potential contempt she had for the industry that closeted her, unlike TTPD, which exhibits much anger towards it. But the simplicity was partly why the coming out attempt didn't work. Taylor's general fandom still viewed her flagging as nothing because she didn't say anything and harassed gaylors while the SBs foiled the biggest part of her plan that would've freed her. In "I Hate It Here", Taylor mentions that she only "rise(es) above" her closeting in her fantasies for now. Instead of getting to come out, her closet door was slammed shut. Her identity, her whole world, was still in the shade of the closet.

"Now I'm runnin' with my dress unbuttoned // Scrеamin', 'But, Daddy, I love him' // I'm havin' his baby // No, I'm not, but you should see your faces"

The title of the song is pretty unanimously agreed to be a reference to The Little Mermaid (1989), which of course came out the same year Taylor was born. Arial yells this at her father when he discovers her hidden interest in the human Prince Eric before destroying her collection of human artifacts.

It's worth remembering that Arial in the film says that she is 16 years old, the same age Taylor was when her first album was released. Arial is still at an age where she would still be under her father's thumb, as she's a child, even if she doesn't feel like one. Meanwhile, Taylor is now in her 30s. She should not need her father's permission to have an interest in someone. The whole scene Taylor paints with these lyrics seems comical, Taylor running after and begging her father as her clothes come undone, maybe because she was caught in the act of making love to this "him", or she's going erratic and ripping her clothes off. Then she screams that she's having her apparent lover's baby. The story becomes more and more soap opera levels of dramatic till Taylor pulls the wool from over the listeners's eyes and reveals that it was all a lie once the facade becomes too crazy to believe unless you're gullible. It's easy to see just the "No I'm not" as a direct response to simply "I'm havin' his baby", but I think it's a response to the whole first half of the chorus. She's not a teen girl begging to be allowed to date, she's an adult.

"You should see your faces" directed at the listeners could be Taylor teasing about the shock on their faces at her wild story or the fact that it's a lie, but it could also be Taylor mocking the look of enjoyment the listener gets from her fake story, which represents her real life beard narratives. The dress unbuttoned story getting crazier and crazier seems to mirror how the real-life bearding narratives get more and more fantastical, at least in my opinion. With the current "Tayvis", Taylor is selling a high school fantasy of the popular cheerleader-type girl getting with the football boy, even though Taylor has never truly been the popular cheerleader-type in reality; she was a bullied nerd during her actual schooling days and has always portrayed herself as separate from the "cheer captain", instead being "on the bleachers" in "YBWM". Then there's the Joe vs. [Rat-dacted] narrative, where Taylor was reportedly head over heels for Joe for 6 or so years, with him not caring that she was famous and seeing her for her, till they suddenly "broke up" and the narrative changed to him stifling her. Then it changed again to her actually being deeply in love with [Rat-dacted] the whole time instead, with Joe simply being an elongated rebound type of relationship. And it gets even more confusing when you try to attach the original [Beard-DJ-dacted] → Tom Hiddleston → Joe Alwyn narratives into the mix. It's all just unraveling into less and less sense. Yet the Sarahs and Hannahs probably don't question a thing because the narrative is still straight, so what's there to ponder?

TTPD's first ever easter egg was "red herring", which is a tool meant to mislead the audience in storytelling, but an attentive audience member might be able to see past it, especially in time/hindsight. The dress unbuttoned story is a red herring to distract from the real story Taylor illustrates in the next half of the chorus, especially when the song is titled after the lie portion of the song. And by extension, in her whole career, all of Taylor's beards, many of the he/him pronouns in songs, lyrics like "your buzzcut and my hair bleach" in "Dress", and songs like "London Boy" and "So High School" are thinly veiled red herrings that keep up the surface appearance of straightness to distract yet invite the listener to dig deeper into the true queer stories in her music once noticed.

"I'm tellin' him to floor it through thе fences // No, I'm not coming to my senses // I know he's crazy, but he's the one I want."

Taylor now tells the listener what she's actually doing. She's telling her lover to run away, presumably along with her, especially with the song's end depicting the lovers returning to "town", but more on the ending later. The lover is still masked by he/him pronouns, but the story is still the truth. (While I do think the "he/him" in this song is in actuality a "she/her", it is interesting to view the first half of the chorus using "he/him" as a part of the red herring Taylor is telling.) In the lie, Taylor begs for her father's permission to love, but in reality, and in a lot of her music throughout her career, Taylor disobeys any disapproving peers and flees with her lover. They could either be fleeing out of the closet, or fleeing away from disapprovers. "Floor it through thе fences" reminds me of "And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences" from "Peace". The phrase "swing for the fences" means "to make a big effort to do something that is very impressive or important, but is difficult to achieve, especially if there is a risk of failure" according to Cambridge Dictionary. Both coming out and being in a glass closet can pose many risks. So Taylor telling her lover to floor it or rush through the fences could mean to run away quickly or have the double meaning of taking a big risk, like coming out or flagging when they should be closeted, along with herself doing the same.

The recurring storyline of running away and/or disregarding naysayers has appeared in songs like "Love Story", "Run", "Call It What You Want", "Speak Now", "MAATHP", "Down Bad", the unreleased "Better Off" from as far back as 2005, and so much more. Going against the grain is her reality. In her music she was never "Scrеamin', 'But, Daddy, I love him'", or just pleading to be accepted, but always running away, dreaming of an environment where she could be accepted, and refusing to come to her senses and just letting the cookie crumble passively. But her beards don't reflect the stories in her songs beyond the surface-level red herrings. The first half of the chorus is the flimsy public narrative, and the second half is the reality.

Taylor's lover is described by her as "crazy". Asylums are a recurring theme throughout this album. Historically and culturally people who were put into asylums were often dubbed "crazy" and mistreated rather than receiving the help they might've needed if they were truly in need at all, as some people who were put into asylums weren't even ill, just perceived as such, similar to queer people who are seen by homophobes as ill when queerness is natural. In this album, asylums represent the industry that raised Taylor and treated her like she was crazy. In the song "TTPD", both she and the lover call themselves crazy, so she and the lover are both in the asylum or industry.

From a specifically Kaylor perspective, Karlie Kloss, particularly in the years before meeting Taylor, has always seemed "louder" than Taylor. And not quite as disciplined in keeping her straight narrative(s) up properly (i.e. Kar recently posting an anniversary pic about being with Josh for 10 years when it's supposed to be 12 years by now. But who has she allegedly been with for 10 years as far as the public's known for sure...?). Through my interpretation of Tay's music, it seems like Kar is Taylor's driving force to potentially come out, as her albums up to 1989 seemed more keen on staying caged and being okay with it, but albums after that have felt like attempts to at least claw on the closet door. Being in a committed relationship with someone willing to be loud might risk Taylor's safety in the cage, so being with someone as "crazy" as Kar is a risk, but she's the one she wants.

"Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid // Tendrils tucked into a woven braid // Growin' up precocious sometimes means // Not growin' up at all."

Taylor mentions growing up precocious in at least 3 different songs on TTPD, this, "The Bolter" and "I Hate It Here". It's definitely something we're supposed to pay attention to. In "You're Losing Me" Taylor mentions being a pathological people pleaser, which lines up with her talk of trying to be the perfect "good girl" who didn't force herself onto people since childhood in Miss Americana. Often, AFAB people who behave this way are told that they're being very mature by being quiet, whether it's quiet in general or quiet on world issues instead of speaking up. As someone who also grew up precocious, it was always easy to get told you were doing a good job by just sitting pretty and never expressing anything. But these traits might begin to backfire the older you get as you suddenly realize that you never got to be a child, but you also weren't really an adult when you were called "mature for your age", so you might end up regressing in a way or just confused on how to actually be an adult properly.

If you're like me, you believe Miss Americana was originally meant to be a coming-out documentary, or a documentary meant to explain Taylor's journey with her sexuality, released after coming out, before those plans were foiled. Her early developmental years are likely a part of why she isn't out yet. She wants to come out in a very specific way that's more than "just saying it". Especially since theirs a lot at stake with her coming out the bigger she gets, the more employees she has to make sure get paid, and the more she has to protect her family. She can't be a "simple girl" and "rise above it" at the same time because the situation is way more delicate now than it was during the Lover era.

In Miss Americana and "The Archer", Taylor mentions feeling like she is stuck at the age she got famous, 16. If we see the lie of the first chorus representing her flimsy bearding narratives, then she could mean that she never grew up into being openly queer. Since she began writing songs, Taylor has always written her songs with the knowledge that one day they could be publicly heard. Even unreleased songs that are very queer-coded like "Welcome Distraction" still have he/him pronouns, just like the ones she writes to this day. Songs that don't have romantic he/him pronouns or are about a girl have always had plausible deniability, such as "Angelina" or "Question...?". Even if it's just a bit of that plausible deniability, heteronormativity makes it really easy to hide when you do it as well as Taylor does.

The mention of braids calls back to "Seven", a song in-part about childhood. Tendrils can be a part of a plant, which reminds me of "Please picture me in the weeds // Before I learned civility", which could be interpreted as Taylor being more wildly queer in some way when she was young before learning how to act straighter for her own good. Tendrils can also be stray pieces of hair, or metaphorically queerness, that was hidden in a straight, rigid braid. I also think this has to do with "Peter", a song I believe to be about Taylor apologizing to her inner queer child for taking so long to come out; when Taylor began hiding her queerness in her music, I'm sure she thought it would just be till the world was ready to hear her truth some years down the line. And if the song "Change" is anything to go off of, she might've been optimistic that that was soon. "I thought it was just goodbye for now // You said you were gonna grow up // Then you were gonna come find me". But here we are over 20 years after she began writing songs and she's still writing in the same closeted way, for now. The southern drawl (if that's the phrase I'm looking for), or her choice to use words cut short like "Runnin'", "'bout", and "ain't" during this song's most tense moments make this feel like her younger, pre-pop self-speaking up finally.

(As a bit of an extra tidbit, these lines really remind me of lyrics from "Welcome Distraction" that I think are meant to be, "A life and a plan and I wasn't gonna stray // Swore I’d never let a man in my way", but I get different results when I look up the lyrics due to its unreleased status. Younger and current Taylor possibly singing similar lines really expands on the never-growing-up aspect of this reading.)

"He was chaos, he was revelry // Bedroom eyes like a remedy // Soon enough, the elders had convened // Down at the city hall // 'Stay away from her' // The saboteurs // Protested too much // Lord knows the words // We never heard // Just screeching tires and true love."

The "he" being in actuality a "she" is the reading that makes the most sense for this song overall. With all the religious imagery in the song, religious elders would not object in this particular way so hard against a guy and a girl wanting to be together. It makes the most sense when Taylor's lover is thought of as another woman. If the lover is a woman, she would definitely represent chaos for Taylor, not necessarily because of her personality but through the way Taylor wants her and the trouble that want could cause. The lover was not a part of the plans laid. But the lover is also the celebratory feeling of being in love, and the celebratory feeling of pride you get from being queer once you've found someone who you can be yourself around and be proud of yourself with. Revelry.

If we think of the "elders" being the SBs specifically, than them meeting each other at the "city hall" could be them coming together to steal Taylor's masters, which recked her plans to come out the same day the news broke out.

Since I'm personally a late-stage Kaylor, I see the saboteurs saying "stay away from her" as the perpetrators and believers in the Kaylor feud, spreading the never-confirmed rumor that Karlie betrayed Taylor as if it's fact and being overprotective of Taylor by demanding Karlie stay away from Taylor since she's a "trader".

Alternatively, the saboteurs could be telling Taylor to stay away from Karlie, as even though there have been other rumored relationships with women Taylor has had, Karlie has always been the strongest suspect and the most well-known since Taylor was never really able to keep the straight facade up as well as usual around Karlie (i.e. Kissgate). I doubt this reading of the line a bit more purely because the lover has been constantly dubbed "him" through the song and it'd be odd to switch up here, but I thought it was worth mentioning. I'll move on with the former interpretation for this reading.

"Protested too much" is a reference to Hamlet by William Shakespeare. In the context of the play, Queen Gertrude says this as a reaction to Hamlet's play trying to weasel guilt out of her and mainly her new husband for marrying so soon after the original King's murder. When the queen in the play says she'll never remarry after her husband dies, Gertrude tells Hamlet, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks", meaning she thinks the queen in the play is putting on a front that shouldn't be believed. If Taylor believes the saboteurs are "protest(ing) too much" it could mean that she believes that they aren't being honest about their stance against the lover. That their hatred for them and calls for them to go away would falter if time were to prove their stance wrong. In "Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus", Taylor says "If you wanna tear my world apart // Just say you've always wondered", which I take as Taylor knowing that when she comes out, despite the strong rejection of her planting seeds to her truth right now, people will say that they had always suspected that she was queer once they feel socially safe to do so post coming out. If the lover in this song is Karlie, then it's not hard to imagine the saboteurs suddenly backtracking their hate in order to praise Kaylor and Karlie after Kaylor becomes publicly cordial again.

With "Lord knows the words // We never heard/ // Just screeching tires and true love" Taylor and her lover ignore the saboteurs's hatred and carry on with their love. Or they ignore the hypocritical words of "praise" for their relationship that'll come when they come out. I'm more inclined to believe the former due to the mention of "screeching tires", a car reference. I mentioned in my "Champagne Problems" analysis that vehicles often represent the closet/running away from the public for Taylor, so if she and the lover are enjoying "screeching tires and true love", they're making the best of their closet as they run away from the rest of the world for the time being, like how they do in "Paris".

"I'll tell you something right now // I'd rather burn my whole life down // Than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'. // I'll tell you something 'bout my good name // It's mine alone to disgrace // I don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing"

I believe Taylor is gearing up to come out, reveal at least aspects of her reality, and expose the harm the industry has done to her and maybe even others. This line syncs up perfectly with the "Burning Lover House" theory, with Taylor eliminating all the red herrings of her past albums and telling her truth. If Taylor's career and good name goes down the toilet due to her being herself, it'll be her doing and she wants to be in that much control of herself. The "vipers dressed in empath's clothing" are the fans who harass and harm people like Karlie all in the name of defending and "empathizing" with Taylor, even though Taylor has never okayed that behavior and has spoken against it. The vipers pretend to empathize with the situations they think Taylor's been in and her music, but their behavior shows they don't truly see eye-to-eye with her and what she stands for. She's done catering to them.

"God save the most judgmental creeps // Who say they want what's best for me // Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I'll never see // Thinkin' it can change the beat // Of my heart when he touches me // And counteract the chemistry // And undo the destiny // You ain't gotta pray for me // Me and my wild boy and all of this wild joy // If all you want is gray for me // Then it's just white noise, and it's just my choice."

Taylor calls out the "judgmental creeps" who hurt people in the name of her. Her asking God to save the "judgmental creeps" could be sarcasm, but I also know Taylor's a Christian (and maybe catholic. I know she grew up catholic), and as a queer Christian, I know that I tend to fully see homophobia as practically an illness, like how homophobes view queerness as an illness, and hope homophobes find it in their heart to overcome those ailments. I wouldn't be surprised if Taylor felt the same way.

The creeps "Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies" that Taylor will "never see". Doing something sanctimoniously is doing something in a performative way, calling back to the saboteurs protesting too much, being hateful only because it's so normalized in the community, and who are likely going to do a 180 once their hate is no longer in style for the times. If Taylor will never see these soliloquies then she could be saying that she'll never give them the time of day, the "words we never heard" from earlier. A soliloquy is a speech that's said when alone without listeners (they're also famously associated with Hamlet so that ties back to "protested too much"), so these creeps are essentially arguing with the wall, as Taylor turns a blind eye to them no matter how much the soliloquies are made to empathize with her or impress her because they do none of those things.

The creeps think their hateful soliloquies will change Taylor's truth. They think if they pretend Karlie doesn't or never existed in Taylor's life in any way and harass Karlie, then it'll change the reality that they secretly or unconsciously know is true, but it won't. The saboteurs and Taylor's closet-ers can't change who she is and what she has with her lover. If the Sarahs and Hannahs only want the straight, beard-narcotic-giving, grey Taylor Swift™, then their pearl-clutching just becomes white noise to Taylor, and it's her choice to be in screaming color, dazzling in the daylight.

"There's a lot of people in town that I // Bestow upon my fakest smiles // Scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer."

In my "I Look In People's Windows" analysis, I viewed the "town" as a metaphor for her tour locations and fanbase. Since she's of course performing on tour, Taylor's happiness could definitely be faked if she had to make it. She can do it with a broken heart and her fans wouldn't even notice. The amount of people inside the stadiums when she tours is massive, so it really is a lot. And if her beard is at the stadium, or "in town", she can give them all the fake winks and nods she needs to keep up appearances as the time to come out approaches. "Scandal does funny things to pride" has a double meaning. Scandal can take a shot at your ego or sense of pride. But queer scandal can also make you want/have to hide your urge to be openly queer and proud, as older queer celebs like Rock Hudson had to completely deny their queerness if rumors got out of control for their own safety. Still, scandal, or hardships, can bring lovers closer as they persevere through it.

"We came back when the heat died down // Went to my parents and they came around // All the wine moms are still holdin' out, but fuck 'em, it's over."

I like to see this and the incoming chorus as Taylor predicting the wake of the coming out. She'll burn it down, things in "town" or the fandom will be chaos, and then she and Karlie will return/publicly reunite in the afterglow of it all once the fandom's shock wanes. The narrative of this song is that Taylor and her lover ran away, disobeying Taylor's father figure rather than begging him, but when they return her family accepts everything. Taylor is still seen as at most a "PG-13" artist, accessible to children, so their parents, the wine moms, could still be upset once the heat dies down, wanting Taylor to be a sanitized image for their kids to look up to and still pearl clutching at her queerness. But fuck 'em, the pain of the closet is far behind her and her lover now. It's over.

"Now I'm dancin' in my dress in the sun and // Even my daddy just loves him // I'm his lady // And, oh my God, you should see your faces."

The lie is now gone, as Taylor gets to be joyous with her lover in the daylight, out of the shade, with her Dad accepting. She's possibly surprised by that, with the use of "even". She still mocks the creeps's outrage and shock.

"Time, doesn't it give some perspective? // And, no, you can't come to the wedding // I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want."

As mentioned before, the vipers suddenly backtracked their hate, as time proved their actions wrong, but no matter how much they might kiss up now, Taylor for the rest of the song continues to mock them with the post-chorus and outro. Especially with "Tayvis", her fans have been invited to vicariously and happily experience her "relationships" through her, despite her constant singing of private relationships and disapprovers. But the majority of her fans are not invited to her real relationship, the one she truly keeps private. No, they can't come to the wedding.

I like how "he's crazy" changes to "it's crazy". Taylor knows that the post-coming-out situation will be crazy, especially if she plans to expose an awful, buried side of the industry in some mass coming out with others as some theorize. But she wants her lover and the things that come with the freedom.

Thanks for reading!

[can-of-slorgs]

caw 🦅