#i need them to bring him back just for that

[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration ‘Choose your own adventure’ story

Orc x fem!reader— cum eating, dry humping, fingering, voyeurism, rough sex, clitoral stimulation

Pt1

“Hey neighbor, I was just talking about you,” your hot Wolf Hybrid neighbor says as you walk over to his little group hanging out in his driveway.

His Orc, Naga, and Wolf friends all flash you a knowing smirk, their varying fangs glimmering sends a heat in your belly before you quickly stop yourself. You had to tone your horny ass self down. You didn’t wanna make a bad impression on a new city of people by being desperate for everyone’s cocks. You didn’t think that would fly here. As they stare your cheeks begin to heat up in a way you know is noticeable.

“Mentioned how I wanted to bring over a cup of coffee I made you,” he adds as if sensing your thoughts and trying to reassure you.

So he wasn’t going around talking about you to all his friends? Something tells you that’s not exactly true as his eyes gleam with arousal. You imagine it as you take the cup of coffee from his hands. Your hot neighbor sitting around with his equally hot friends, going over every little dirty detail. Raving about how good your tight cunt felt around his thick cock. All of them growing hard as he recounted the noises you made and how desperate you were to be filled while imagining it was them with you instead.

A choked whimper escapes you that you quickly try and hide beneath a pleased hum. You try your best to look casual as you subtly rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. But you’re briefly brought back to reality as your hot neighbor hands you the mug of coffee.

“Thank you for this, but—“ you say as you bring the mug to your lips only for your neighbor to brush a clawed finger along the edge of the cup and tilt it up, forcing you to take long gulps of the nicely warm drink. You meet his burning gaze, unable to look away, the tension simmering between you. And in front of all his friends. Fuck you can feel how wet you’re getting.

When he finally removes his finger you lower the cup with only a bit less than half left. Your mouth smacks as the taste bursts across your tongue. It was bitter as you expected coffee to be but also a bit sweet and… salty? It was certainly creamier than you expected it to be. You liked it. Probably more than you liked whatever blend you usually get. You’ll have to ask what his special ingredient is later.

“Thank you again but I was wondering if you guys could give me a ride? I’m in a really tough spot and I just need someone to get me going,” you say, voice strangely huskier than normal.

You clear your throat, glancing away, and look back up to all four of these damn fine men staring down at you as if they’re about to pounce. Your pussy flutters, clamping down around nothing at the thought of them actually doing just that. Their claws digging into your plush form, fangs grazing your sensitive skin, their big tongues ravaging your body to prepare you for their giant cocks.

“Work that is,” you add, voice growing husky all over again.

Your Wolf Hybrid neighbor chuckles darkly, the sound shooting right down to your core. He glances at his friends and a silent conversation passes between them. Then all of them are moving toward the car as if suddenly eager to get in.

“C’mon, sweetheart. We’re headed to work ourselves but we’ll get you off. Who are we to deny someone as cute as you?” He says smoothly, his raspy voice making that sound much more suggestive than you think he meant to.

Your hot neighbor rounds the car, taking the drivers seat. While his Wolf Hybrid friend quickly takes passenger. As if he didn’t want you getting to it first.

“You’ll have to ride in my lap though,” His Orc friend immediately says with a smirk as he hops in the backseat of the car. You follow after him, not wanting anymore seats taken from you.

“And why would I do that?” You ask, not wanting him to know how much you like the idea.

Just as you’re about to sit in the middle seat instead, the Orc’s giant hands are gripping your waist and plopping you down in his lap. Before you can argue or pretend to complain, the Naga gets in last and he curls half his long rattling tail into the middle seat while the rest takes up the remaining one.

“There’sss no more room,” the Naga says, forked tongue slipping out as he speaks and a second later his eyes dilate.

You blush, knowing he can probably taste your arousal in the air. In fact, they all probably can. The realization has you blushing deeper and growing wetter on the hot Orc. Especially as the Orc tugs you closer to his chest and you can feel the distinct bulge of his half-erect cock pressing deliciously along your clothed slit.

Hot neighbor starts on his way and you share your new place of work with them. They’ll know exactly where you are now nearly every day. It sends a strange thrill through you. Wolf Hybrid neighbor tells you that it’s on the way to their place so they’ll drop you off first but that it might take a little longer. They usually like to down the back roads.

You find that you don’t mind as you’re a lot more than just comfortable sitting in the hot Orc’s lap. That is until they actually start driving down the back roads and their… bumpy terrain.

A small grunt escapes you, eyes widening as the car starts rocking. Each jolt of the car has the Orc’s hardening length rubbing right up against your pussy. Your throat tightens as you try and choke down your moans. The Orc feels huge and he’s rubbing over every inch of your cunt. You swear you feel him rocking in sync with the rock. But what would be crazy.

Small talk fills the car and you’re grateful no one seems to be able to notice your inner torment. Small whines leave you as you practically bounce on the Orc’s clothed dick. It sends shocks through your system and you quickly grow more and more needy. The need to be filled and stuffed full itching at your skin.

“I think you’re wet enough f’me now, sweetheart. My patience grows thin. Fuckin’ need to get inside ya,” the Orc says, breaking you out of your lustful daze. It’s only then you register his panting breaths and the way everyone’s eyes shift toward you in the car.

“W-what?”

You yelp as the Orc jerks off your slacks and panties in one swift move and hooks your legs over each of his knees, spreading you wide for the whole car to see. Your glistening folds spasm as they’re exposed to the cold air.

Thoughts run through your head at a mile a minute. You should want to stop this. To scramble off this sexy Orc’s lap. But you only get more turned on, your arousal gushing out of you at the thought of him so suddenly taking you.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been wantin’ to fuck me since your fine ass walked over. That’s how this place works, right?” The Orc asks, almost mockingly.

His words wash over you, clouding your mind, as his hands explore your body. Slightly clawed fingers trail down and dip into your soaked folds. A low moan leaves you and instead of trying to get away you melt back into his chest, hips rolling with the movement of his fingers. He takes the time to prep you for his length and it slowly has you becoming an absolute mess in his lap. And you haven’t even had his cock yet.

You suck in a sharp breath as the hot Orc’s fingers leave you only to replace them with his thick angry tip. His pre-cum creating an even bigger mess of you. Your mind threatens to gain clarity again but then the Orc is pushing you down and splitting you open on his cock.

“Nngh! Ooh… Oh fuck,” you cry out, throwing your head back. The stretch of his girth forcing your gummy walls to accommodate him has your eyes rolling back. The deeper he goes the more you swear you’ve never been filled this good in your life.

The fact that you’re in a car full of men shifts back to the front of your mind and you lift your head to see them all still watching you with a fierce intensity.

Your hot neighbor continues to drive but you notice the way his eyes keep flicking back to you in the mirror. While his Wolf Hybrid and Naga friends each have all their cocks out, languidly stroking them to the sight of you stretched pretty on their friend’s cock. You whimper, basking in the attention, and a second later the Orc starts slamming you down on his massive cock.

“Fuck, dude, you were right. What a perfect pussy. They’re drenched f’me, just slipped right in. So warm and tight. Poor thing won’t get a moments rest in this place,” the Orc huffs and the car erupts into soft breathless laughter.

Aha! You knew your hot neighbor had talked about you with them. The praise is all you focus on and it has your walls squeezing the Orc’s length, wanting to make him go mad. A low growl vibrates from his chest to your back as he feels you get even tighter. His claws sink into your hips as he starts using his grip to fuck his cock up into you at a bruising pace. His thrusts syncing up perfectly with the rocky jostling of the car that only seems to be getting worse.

You cry out as the car’s movements also deepens the Orc’s momentum. You swear you can feel his dick all the way up in your throat. He’s stuffing you so full of him you don’t know if you can take it. You arch back into the Orc, putting on a show for him and everyone in the car. Through hooded eyes you watch as they furiously pump themselves to the sight of your body. It gets you so fucking hot. Their lustful eyes raking over your form. All of them wanting a piece of you, all of them jealous of the one who gets to fuck you.

The Naga flicks out his tail, the rattle on its tip moves in between your legs, wanting to do anything he can to give you more pleasure. You wait with bated breath and shriek as he rattles his tail, the vibration sending sparks throughout your body. The Orc snarls in your ear and picks up pace, jerking up his hips and meeting your thrusts in a way that has your toes curling.

“How do they look?” Your hot neighbor growls, knuckles white on the steering wheel, and sounding borderline feral. His cock aching against his slacks.

“They look so fucking sexy, man. Their tight pussy can barely take him,” His Wolf Hybrid friend moans, his hips twitching as he jerks himself off even harder.

“But they’re doing ssso well. Pretty thing will be ruined for anyone else,” the Naga adds, roughly rattling his tail against your clit. He thrusts up into each of his hands that pump at both of his dicks. You mewl, vision blurring at the intensity that wracks through you.

“Fuck, I think they’re about to cum!” One of them shouts but you’re too lost in the haze of pleasure to focus on which one it is. But then the Orc’s hot breath is curling around your ear and your mind clears enough to hear his rumbling voice.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuckin’ let go and cum on my cock. Squeeze the damn life out of me, you can do it.”

The cord snaps and jaw drops, fierce screams echo throughout the car as you explode all over his cock. Waves of ecstasy wash over you and you try your best not to pass out. The sight of you coming is a vision of pure art and none of the other men can hold on much longer.

The Naga lets go first, shooting his cum over any inch of bare skin he can reach. The Wolf Hybrid is close to follow in his friend’s footsteps as he cums all over you two. Seeing you all wrecked and messy quickly has the Orc slamming into you, burying himself to the hilt and shooting spurt after spurt of his cum deep inside you.

“Such a pretty slut you are, sweetheart. So easily made a mess from our cocks. You’re perfect,” the Orc rasps in your ear and you preen under his praise.

The rest of the car ride is spent with the monsters cleaning you up as you lay limply in the Orc’s lap. You take the time to regain your strength and you hope you’ll be able to feel your legs enough to walk into work.

When you arrive your hot neighbor gets out and greets you as the door opens. He helps you out and you immediately melt into his embrace. Your Wolf Hybrid neighbor laughs, leaning down and kissing the crown of your head.

“Next time, darling. Now get into work,” he murmurs intimately in your ear. Giving your butt a nudging pat.

As you walk in on wobbly legs, you glance around the lobby, looking for the headhunter that recruited you. He was meant to meet you and show you the ropes of the job. But he isn’t anywhere to be seen and you wonder what you’ll do next. You could ask the Demon Guard by the door where you could find him, head down the closest hall and hope you find the headhunter down one of the rooms, or you could head to your Minotaur Boss’ office and hope he can show you around.

[emchante]

okay okayy from your prompt list would you consider using “ghosting their lips against yours before pulling back with a smug smirk, making you chase them desperately” and “pulling them closer by their belt” with franco?

crossing the line - f.c

masterlist | requesting rules

prompts: “ghosting their lips against yours before pulling back with a smirk” + “pulling them closer by the belt”

summary: after a long day together, you and franco relax in his apartment. there’s been an unspoken attraction between you both, and it finally bubbles over.

WARNINGS: nothing extreme or nsfw, gentle teasing and a make-out.

w.c. 1.2k+

a/n hii all! here’s a little franco blurb as a treat (esp for @yauchfilms !!) this is my first time writing for him, so i hope you all enjoy. more franco will definitely be on the way. let me know your thoughts via asks/anons, comments or reblogs. <3

it had been a long day. you were currently with franco, lounging in his apartment as what seemed to be indie music hummed softly from his speaker. the lights were dim, casting a warm glow throughout the room that helped bring the more relaxed vibe you were both going for.

it felt comfortable, natural— just the two of you winding down together like you usually did after a packed day. but today, it felt different.

in fact lately, there had been an undercurrent of something else.

it was in the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, or in the way he let his hands linger a little longer than considered friendly when he brushes past you. something unspoken, something that’s been quietly building between you both, as if waiting for a spark to set it off.

you weren’t certain about it all, though. it was no secret amongst your social group that you were infatuated with the boy. you feared your own feelings were deluding you, maybe making things up in your mind and justifying it because you had felt the same way.

“you’re staring at me,” franco murmured, interrupting your train of thought. you noticed how his lips quirked up into a smirk at your reaction, and you shook your head with a small smile.

he wasn’t wrong, you were staring at him while deep in thought. it was hard not to though, you felt the need to study his face and the way the light casted shadows upon it.

you wouldn’t admit it to him, though.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, allowing the words to fall freely from your lips. “please, i’ve had to see it long enough today,” referring to the fact you’d been glued to each others sides the full day. “you wish.”

franco chuckled, leaning back against the sofa, as he stretched his arm in that casual, teasing way of his. “well, maybe i do.”

it was only a few seconds before you felt his hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer towards him. you didn’t object of course, allowing yourself to be moved farther into him.

his words hung between the both of you, heavier than you expected them to. it was very franco of him to drop small hints like these, leaving you second guessing yourself as usual. but this time, he didn’t pull back. instead, he continued to state into your eyes, an almost.. challenging glint within them. you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, a flutter of anticipation mixed with nerves.

you furrowed your brows at him, biting the inside of your cheek to steady yourself before you spoke up. “don’t start something you’re not going to finish, franco.”

“oh?” he raised his brows, tilting his head lightly to the side and you could see the playful spark light up in his expression. franco leaned in closer, beginning to close the distance between you, his face inches from yours. his voice dropped to a whisper as he murmured, “what if i do, corazona?”

your heart was pounding, each beat echoing in your chest as his breath mingled with your own. the closeness along with the term of endearment.. it was beginning to get a little too much. your eyes widened slightly as you watched his gaze flick to your lips before he licked his own, moving his eyes to peer back to yours.

you could barely breathe normally, so much so that the rhythm had become more labored subconsciously as you got caught up in your mind.

you began to lean in, eyes beginning to close as you got ready to settle into the kiss— but it never even happened.

franco had pulled back, smirk painted across his face as mischief lit up his gaze. the teasing lingered in the air, his retreat sparking more frustration within you. he looked so pleased with himself, and you knew he was, the chuckles and comments about the moment were enough to let you know. however, with your frustration came something else— adrenaline.

before you had time to think about it your hand was reaching forward, and you grabbed franco by the belt. your fingers curled into the fabric as you pulled him towards you, and it completely wiped the smirk off of his face. it was now franco with the widened eyes and shocked expression, which in turn made you smirk.

there was no time for teasing or dwelling on it though, as you moved your hands up to grab onto his shirt collar before pulling him down to meet your lips.

franco melted into the kiss instantly, moving his from from your shoulder as his hand moved to your face and cupped your cheek. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, like you were both savoring the taste of the moment, this leap of friendship into something more.

the restraint didn’t last long, though.

the months of tension, the quiet looks, the playful banter— it rushed forward all at once, sweeping you both up as the kiss deepened. it slow and intense, every touch adding to the moment. franco’s free hand slid around your waist to your back, pulling you right onto his lap.

you pulled away from the kiss momentarily, resting your forehead against his own. funnily enough, it was franco who was now chasing your lips. he cursed under this breath as he opened his eyes, a small smile on his face.

one of your hands made its way up into franco’s hair, combing your fingers through the back of it as you both sat in silence for a moment longer.

“it was about time,” franco muttered, swallowing thickly as a small chuckle escaped his lips. you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you sighed at him.

you didn’t bother entertaining his teasing, simply muttering a “shut up” before your lips were back onto his. this kiss became heated much faster than anticipated. you tugged in franco’s hair, which caused a small moan to escape him before his tongue swiped along your bottom lip.

he moved his hand from your face to join his other at your waist for a few moments, before they trailed down to your ass. you pulled back the tiniest bit, muttering “watch yourself” before you leaned back in to continue.

your kisses were hungry, a rhythm of urgency and need, franco’s mouth hot and insistent against yours. you angled your face to continue deepening the kiss, as one of your hands moved to his jaw, holding it tightly.

after a few more moments of the heated makeout, you both pulled back— breathless with swollen lips. you licked your lips as you breathed heavily, trying to steady it back into its normal pace.

franco stared at you in slight awe at what had just happened, he had never expected you would be the one to finally initiate it. it was something he could get used to, though. and he didn’t have to dream about it for long.

within 30 minutes, you were both back in the frenzy of kissing each other like it was vital, like you’d lose each other if you stopped.

[missnxthingg]

Lando scared to hold his baby…just flufffy stuff between him reads and new baby

pairing: Lando Norris x Wife!Reader {daddy Lando au) summary: Lando Norris has held countless of kids through his life, but it's too scary when it comes to his son words: 1 K - warnings: Just an overdose of cuteness!! author’s notes:  As you can see by my previous series, I'm a sucker for daddy Lando. Him being just an idiot and so cute, it's everything I needed. Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy it!

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Lando has two beautiful nieces to which he has helped look after and take care through the years, always taking them on adventures and making sure to keep them entertained so his brother and sister-in-law could have a rest. He had never had a single issue on picking them up, ever. And not to talk about the countless kids that come to meet him on track. Last year, on an event for McLaren, he held a tiny pretty baby in his hands, so his father could take a picture by their car.

But it was different when he came to his baby.

He had been waiting for so long to meet his kid. He and Y/N had been waiting for so long to have a baby, deciding the right time to give it a try, going through the process of trying to get pregnant and finally getting the good news, only to have to wait nine months until they finally met. And yet, when the moment came, he panicked.

“I can’t do this, baby”, he mumbled, stepping away from his wife, who had been carrying their son, Liam, between her arms in the safeness of their maternity room. They had been alone for a good half hour now, getting to know their brand new little son. 

Y/N rolled her eyes as she rocked little Liam back and forth, while he was deep into sleep under her hold.

“What are you so afraid of, my love? It’s just a baby! You’ve held countless babies before, like Mila and Athena. They are fine, aren’t they? You haven’t dropped them in their heads, have you?”

“But it’s different this time”, he brushed a finger through his son’s cheek and sighed. “I’m clumsy. You know me. What if I drop him?”

“You won’t drop him, Lando”, she toughened up, but he still swallowed dry. “Baby, I trust you more than anything in the world. I know you won’t ever do anything to harm our son”.

Y/N leaned in and pressed a kiss on top of his cheek. Lando was still nervous and thinking about the idea of holding his son for the first time. It was a big deal; becoming a dad is quite scary. What if he isn’t good enough? What if Liam ends up hating him? What if he harms his precious son?

“That’s a lot o what ifs”, Y/N chuckled, making him realized he had said the last sentences out loud. “Lando, we’re in this together, okay? I know it’s scary, but you can do this. You can do anything. You’re Lando Norris, for God’s sake!”

He took a deep breath and agreed with a nod. Then he found a place to seat, just to be more secure with holding the baby for the first time. Y/N gently place Liam between his arms and stayed close as Lando started to feel more secure about holding their son. She only relaxed when he opened a big smile, bringing their kid closer to his body.

“I’m holding him”, he mumbled, making his wife laugh at the statement. She took a seat next to him and leaned over their son, admiring how pretty he looks. “Oh my God, I’m holding him”.

“You’re doing great, my love”, she pressed a kiss on the crown of his head and cuddled into his arm, making their little family as close together as they possibly could be. “I’m so proud of you, Lan. You’re going to be the best dad in the world”.

“He’s so pretty”, he said, admiring Liam from up close. “Looks a little bit like me already. Mum said I was also born with a lot of hair”.

“We carry them for nine months, only for them to turn out to be exactly like their dad”, Y/N laughed. “But that’s okay, because you’re the dad. I would have ten thousand kids that look exactly like you, if I could”.

Lando laughed at her joke and nudged his nose against hers, just before he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. “I love you so much, you know that?”

“For a really long time now”, she smiled.

“Thank you so much for giving me a son. I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough for this blessing”, he declared. “You’re the love of my life, and I’m so happy about the little family we’re building”.

“I love you so much too. And I can’t wait to grow our little family a little bit more”, she kissed him again. “Everything is worthy and less scary next to you”.

Lando and Y/N turned their attention back to Liam, who sighed into his dad’s arms, making them laugh at his action. She swore she saw her husband shed a few tears as he analysed every inch of their son’s face from up close. Their little miracle was finally between their arms.

“We’re going to be best friends, little one”, he mumbled. “Daddy and mummy love you so much, and we’re going to have so much fun together”.

He spent the entire day holding Liam between his arms, and would refuse to let go off him under any cost. Y/N begged him to put their son down so he could rest and go to sleep, but all Lando wanted to do, now that he had the confidence, was hold their baby close to him.

“Look at this drooling daddy. Liam, you’re so lucky”, she giggled, pressing a kiss on her husband’s forehead, as he got comfortable between the hospital’s couch, ready for a long night as a father. “I love you, have a good night, baby”.

“Good night to you too, baby. I love you”.

And just like that, Lando welcomed the night and some rest right next to his newborn son, who quietly slept through the entire night in the safeness of his father’s hold. And after that first scare, he was never afraid of holding his kid ever again.

⤿ add yourself to the taglist!

[sponfawn]

^^^ for an irl example, I had a supervisor not too long ago. White, cishet, in his 30s, grew up in a v white environment. Genuinely nice, funny guy who worked hard. He gave me shit (in a v joking, non-serious way) about being the physically weakest/having the lowest endurance of our team in a physically demanding job but if anyone told him that they didn't like the way he joked about something he'd immediately apologize and never do it again. Def not far right or alt right guy, not really woke but also was a genuinely nice person who cared.

There was a point where HR was asking each team member privately about their experiences and if there were any concerns we wanted to bring up. None of us had any and we said so. She went "are you sure? Nothing at all?" We all said "nope our crew and our crew leader all get along great and we work safely".

Then it turns out that the first crew he had years back was a nightmare. He didn't find out til well after they had all left for other jobs but according to his boss, they demanded that they be able to interview him before he was hired. When they were told it would be impractical but that they could suggest questions they wanted to ask, they wanted to ask what his sexual orientation was, his gender assigned at birth, and his political views, all of which are v illegal to ask in an interview so they were told "no were not going to ask that because we cannot legally ask that".

The next year or so was filled with complaints about him. They claimed he was laughing at them (he was someone who just laughed a lot in general), was harassing them via eye contact, was making inappropriate jokes, etc, over basically everything he did. To the point where he would just avoid eye contact with all of them all the time, and at lunch breaks he'd just go and sit by himself, silently, cuz they never communicated directly with him about what was bothering them so he couldn't correct behaviors except avoid contact altogether. when he tried to ask them to explain they'd blow up at him. They also complained that he misgendered them, and he admitted that he had misused pronouns once or twice when they first met, but he said he apologized and corrected himself.

He told us about a childhood friend who came out to him a couple of years ago. He said "yeah, she told me her name is [name] now. She's happier than she ever was when we were kids, and we're still close." He never once dead named her or used the wrong pronouns when talking about her, so I'm inclined to think that it was a genuine mistake when first meeting new ppl. He said his mental health really suffered during that time, not being able to have any social connection at work and feeling like literally anything he did could be used to file a formal complaint, but he really needed the job so he endured it. No crew after that ever made a formal complaint about him.

Meanwhile, our crew of 5 with at least 2 queer ppl on it and 3 POC had a great time with him. The worst thing he ever said was that he thought that no one really cared about representation when he was a kid, but he sincerely listened when I told him about being Mulan for Halloween over 2 years in a row because she was the only kid friendly East Asian character I knew of at the time and that was a big deal for me.

Ppl aren't worse or evil for traits they didn't choose, and a lot of ppl just need a civil conversation to understand others' perspectives that they weren't previously exposed to or aware of. It's not your responsibility to spend the energy to have those conversations but not spreading hateful rhetoric about ppl because of traits they cannot change costs nothing

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Watch Your Mouth

Dealing with someone talking shit about your man and you stand up for them because you're not about to let someone talk crazy about your man. A/N: I like to imagine this as an office girly scene and you have that one hater ass bitter coworker [Requested by: onliafaze]

Zayne

You could tell you were coming down with a cold and it was going to be a bad one. Zayne just so happened to have the day off and you were struggling to make it through your last shift before your days off. So being the loving boyfriend that he is, he brought you homemade soup and some cold medicine. He even kissed you before leaving not caring that you might get him sick as well. Just another reason to spend the day in bed with you. You sat at your desk with the biggest smile on your face. Suddenly a bitch with a voice like nails on a chalk board decided to insert herself into your bubble.

Hater: If you took better care of yourself your man wouldn’t have to waste his time coming all the way here to bring you soup MC: Weren't you sick last month and your man told you he was going to leave until you were healthy again and proceeded to ignore you for a week? Hater: ..... MC: Just because your man doesn’t care about you doesn’t mean you need to project on me Hater: I’m not projecting! MC: ………Whatever helps you sleep at night miss girl

Once you get home to tell Zayne what happened when he left, him being the sensible person that he is, suggests that maybe your coworker was just in a bad mood.

MC: Don't defend her Zayne: Sorry I meant her man hates her MC: Thank you

Rafayel

Rafayel truly had eyes for you and you only. He cared very little for others feelings you were the one and only exception. He also hated to be touched so when your coworker saw you constantly having a hand on him, when he would come by the office, she thought she’d try her luck. Rafayel immediately looked at her like she smeared the most vile thing known to man on his arm.

Hater: Your man is rude as hell MC: To you. Hater: No he’s just rude MC: To you. Hater: Why just me MC: You’re weird … who grabs on another woman's man right in front of her? You’re weird Hater: You’re rude as hell too you guys are made for each other MC: Cry about it

Rafayel stared at you in admiration while you told him what went down after he left.

Rafayel: Have I ever told you how hot you are when you get serious? MC: Yes all the time

Xavier

“Damn it I left my tea in my car” You had gotten all the way up to your desk when you realized what you were forgetting. On top of that it was cold so you were dreading having to walk in it again. Maybe you could make a cup in the office kitchen, but they only have sugar and you prefer honey; you prefer your tea. “I’ll go grab it for you just stay here and warm up” Xavier said as he appeared next to you with that soft expression he always has when he looks at you. “Thank you Xav you’re so sweet” You handed him your keys and watched as he quickly made his way out of the office before turning and smiling to yourself.

Hater: What is he a dog? Does he do everything for you? MC: ….. You know if your man hates you just say that Hater: M-my man doesn’t hate me w-why would you say that? MC: Look at you stuttering and shit did I hit a nerve? Hater: Whatever MC: Have the day you deserve babes!

Xavier approached you right as your coworker barged past him almost knocking the tea from his hand. He looked back with confusion etched across his face before turning back to you.

Xavier: What happened? MC: She was just admiring the relationship we have Xavier: What really happened? MC: She wanted smoke so I gave her a barbecue

Sylus

Thanks to Sylus wanting to spoil you at all time your office was the most decorated with all new everything and was even professionally designed to be organized and efficient. People loved to come by and admire your office set up. Except for one person who just seems to turn her nose up at you. She pouts for hours on end when Sylus makes his appearance to bring you lunch, flowers or even a ‘just because’ gift when he wants to see you. You ignored this bitter coworker day in and day out because why would you need the kind of negativity in your life? One day though she finally decided to voice her unwanted opinion to you.

Hater: You only have all of that because your man buys you everything MC: Yea … he does … tell your man to work harder Hater: That is so insensitive what if I'm single? MC: I can see why….. Hater: What's that supposed to mean!? MC: You're insufferable I wouldn't date you either

Sylus always found your attitude cute and it was even better when it wasn't directed at him.

Sylus: You said she was insufferable? MC: Somebody had to do it Sylus: and you were the perfect one for the job huh? MC: I was defending you praise me Sylus: I've never been defended before thank you Princess

[rootedinrevisions]

Just...Stay

SUMMARY: When he rolls back into her life every few months, Tyler Owens brings with him all the irresistible charm and warmth that first captured her heart, leaving her breathless and hoping for more. But as the years slip by, so do his promises, and every departure leaves her with another fracture in her heart and fewer illusions about the man she loves. Caught between the comfort of the life she’s built and the pull of the only man who’s ever felt like home, she must finally decide: will she wait for him one last time, or find the courage to let go and forge a path on her own?

Inspired loosely by "All the Cowboys" by Alexandra Kay.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst. Unrequited love. Mentions of/Implied Smut.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The screen door creaked as you settled onto the back porch steps, the sun beginning to dip beneath the horizon. You held the phone close, balancing it between your shoulder and ear as you traced absent circles on the weathered wood with your fingertip.

Your mom’s voice crackled on the other end, warm and familiar. “You’ve been keeping busy out there?”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, Mama. Got a load of wash done, fixed that fence post that was leaning. Even tried to fix the gutter on the barn.”

She chuckled. “You sound like you’re doing just fine then. So, what’s got you out on that porch, calling me like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders?”

You hesitated, glancing out at the fields stretching endlessly before you, caught between the quiet beauty of dusk and the ache you felt blooming inside. “I don’t know, Mama,” you said, almost whispering. “Just feeling a little lost, I guess.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and you could almost hear her piecing it together. “You saw him again, didn’t you?”

A sigh escaped you, a mix of regret and resignation. “Yeah, I did. He was just… there, like nothing had changed.” You shook your head, remembering the way he’d looked at you, that familiar glint in his eye. “I know what you’re gonna say, Mama.”

She didn’t hesitate. “That boy’s no good. He comes ‘round whenever he pleases, but he leaves just as quick. You can’t be holding out for someone like that, honey.”

You felt your chest tighten, the truth of her words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. “I know, Mama. Believe me, I know.” You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve, fingers fidgeting. “But when he’s here… it’s like I forget all that. I forget how many times he’s done this before, how I feel every time he leaves.” Your voice grew softer, thick with frustration. “And then he’s gone, and it feels like… like there’s this empty spot he left behind.”

There was a pause before she spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you let him do this to you, sweetheart?”

You exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. Maybe I keep hoping it’ll be different. That maybe… he’ll stay.” The words sounded hollow even as you said them.

You could feel her weighing her response, the silence heavy between you. “Honey, some people just aren’t made to stay. They get what they need and they’re gone, leaving folks like you to pick up the pieces.” She paused, and you could almost see her shaking her head. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

A lump formed in your throat as you thought of Tyler driving off into the sunset, no promises, no goodbyes—just gone. You let out a weary breath, looking down at the chipped paint on the porch step beneath you. 

“Why do they always leave, Mama? Every time things get good, he just vanishes.”

“Oh, honey…” She sighed, the sound deep and knowing. “It’s in some folks’ nature to chase what they don’t have, always looking for something else just over the next hill. Doesn’t mean you have to keep getting hurt by it, though.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the truth settle heavily in your chest. The silence stretched on, filled only by the chirping of crickets and the fading warmth of the sun. You knew your mother was right, but as you sat there, a small part of you still hoped that maybe, just maybe, he’d come back one day and stay.

The memory came back in a slow, aching wave. Just two nights ago, you and Tyler lay tangled up together under the sheets, his arm wrapped tightly around you. The world felt quiet in those moments, like the whole world had shrunk to just the two of you, his warm skin against yours, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

You tilted your head up to look at him, his face softened in the dim light. “So… how long are you sticking around this time?” you asked, half-joking, though you both knew the question carried a heavier weight.

Tyler’s gaze drifted, his lips twitching in that familiar, evasive way. “Maybe longer this time,” he mumbled, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he said it. Instead, his thumb traced absent circles over your shoulder, a touch meant to soothe but only deepening the pit forming in your stomach.

You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold on to that maybe, but his tone, that shift in his eyes as he looked away—it was the same pattern, the same script. You’d been through this dance too many times not to recognize the truth hiding behind his words. He would be gone by morning. And as much as he’d tried to sell you that soft maybe, the two of you understood this wasn’t a visit that would last.

But in that moment, as you curled up against his side, you pretended you didn’t know. You buried yourself in the warmth of his embrace, letting yourself have just one night, pretending you wouldn’t wake up alone.

And sure enough, the next morning, when your hand reached across the bed to his side, it found nothing but cool sheets. You stared at the empty space beside you, that hollow ache settling deep in your chest. With a sigh, you threw back the covers and padded over to the closet, grabbing one of his old T-shirts he’d left on one of his previous stays, back when you still believed he might keep leaving pieces of himself behind to build something more permanent with you.

The shirt smelled faintly of him, a hint of cedar and summer nights that made your throat tighten. Tugging it over your head, you went to the kitchen, the floor cold against your bare feet as you filled the kettle, automatically going through the motions of your morning coffee.

And that’s when you saw it—the note, lying in the center of the kitchen table, his handwriting scrawled across the torn piece of paper.

It was a short message, just a handful of words that were supposed to feel like a promise, but instead felt like one more empty reassurance. You picked it up, reading the rushed lines that only served to emphasize his absence.

Didn’t want to wake you. Take care, darlin’. I’ll see you around.

The words felt flimsy, like the paper might disintegrate under the weight of your disappointment. You crumpled the note in your fist, feeling the familiar sting behind your eyes. This wasn’t new—this cycle of him drifting in, leaving pieces of himself in the form of old T-shirts and half-hearted promises, only to vanish before you could say goodbye.

You’d been through this so many times before, and yet, as you stood there, clutching that note, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this time was the one that would finally break you.

Your mom’s voice cut through the silence, gentle but firm. “Honey, you still there?”

You blinked, realizing you’d let the silence drag on too long, your mind caught in the weight of memories you could barely hold onto. “Yeah, Mama,” you murmured, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I know you love him,” she continued softly, but her words carried a strength you weren’t sure you had anymore. “But I need you to ask yourself if he’s treating you like he loves you, too. ’Cause, baby, love isn’t something you only hold onto when it’s convenient. It’s there in the hard times, in the moments that aren’t so pretty. And if he’s not showing up for you… maybe it’s time to ask yourself why you’re still waiting.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, staring down at the crumpled note still clutched in your hand. The truth of her words was painful, like a splinter lodged too deep to pull out.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know you’re right.”

“I just hate seeing you go through this, time and again,” she said, her voice tinged with a sorrow that made your chest ache. “You deserve someone who’s there for you, who doesn’t keep running just because things start feeling real.”

You exhaled, forcing a smile that felt as brittle as glass. “Thanks, Mama. I… I just needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, baby,” she said, her tone softening. “You take care of yourself. And remember, it’s okay to let go.”

After a quiet goodbye, you hung up, setting the phone down beside the note. Your mom’s words echoed in your mind, a steady reminder of what you deserved, a grounding tether pulling you back to reality. She was right, of course. She always was. And yet…No matter how many times he left, or how much you knew he wasn’t treating you the way you deserved, there was still a part of you—a foolish, stubborn part—that couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he stayed. Just once.

You closed your eyes, letting the bittersweet ache of a daydream settle over you, imagining what it would be like if he stayed. Just once.

You could almost feel him there beside you, his arm still wrapped around you as you stirred awake. In this vision, his side of the bed wasn’t empty; he was there, his breathing slow and steady, a soft smile tugging at his lips as you rolled over to nuzzle closer. The warmth of his body against yours made you feel safe, grounded, as though he was finally, truly yours.

Later, you pictured the two of you in the kitchen, the early light streaming in through the window as you handed him a mug of coffee. He’d take it, wrapping his hands around yours just a second longer than necessary, his fingers warm against your skin. You’d share a quiet laugh over something simple, something easy, while the steam curled between you. And as he sat across from you, his eyes would linger like he was savoring the moment, like he was savoring you.

In your mind, you watched as he’d finish his coffee, rising from the table to head out to the fields with you. He’d tug on a worn cap and grin over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling in that way that always made your heart stumble. You’d walk side by side, falling into the comfortable rhythm of working together, your boots crunching over the soil as you talked about things that never came up in his fleeting visits. What you’d plant next season, what you’d add to the place if you had the time and the money. He’d joke about the future, and for once, you’d let yourself believe in it.

Evenings would come, and you’d find yourselves on the back porch, watching the sun dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything. He’d reach for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You could almost feel the weight of his head resting against yours, his soft murmur of how he’d missed this, missed you. And as night fell, the stars would come out, and he’d pull you close, wrapping you in his arms as though he had nowhere else to be.

And then, in this daydream, he’d follow you back inside, his arm draped around your shoulders as you led him up to bed. There, tangled up in the sheets, he’d hold you close, his touch lingering and gentle, making you feel like you were the only person who’d ever mattered to him. His whispered promises wouldn’t be half-hearted or hesitant; they’d be real, as solid as the feel of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You’d fall asleep in his arms, knowing he’d be there when you woke, that he’d finally found a place with you he wouldn’t leave behind.

But as you opened your eyes, the reality settled around you like a familiar chill. It was just a daydream, a vision of something you’d never have, as fleeting as his footprints fading from the dirt driveway. And yet, you couldn’t help but hold onto it for one more heartbeat, wishing with all the fragile hope you had left that someday, somehow, it could be real.

* * * * *

A MONTH LATER

It was a late afternoon, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows over the gravel drive as you stood on the porch, the distant rumble of an engine reaching your ears. You recognized that sound before you even saw the dust cloud rising in the distance, stirring up memories you’d been trying to put to rest for weeks. His truck rounded the last bend, and there he was, windows down, that easy, rugged grin spreading across his face as he slowed to a stop in front of the house.

Tyler stepped out, stretching his arms like he belonged there, like he hadn’t left you picking up the pieces last time. Dust clung to his boots as he walked toward you, his eyes fixed on yours with that familiar spark—one that made you feel seen in a way that was hard to shake, even when you wanted to.

He looked just the same, though maybe a little more sun-worn, his t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, his jeans frayed in a way that was somehow endearing, like they’d seen as much of the road as he had. He stopped a few steps away, his gaze softening as it met yours.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm and low, as if no time had passed at all.

You stayed still, hands clenched by your sides. You’d prepared yourself for this—told yourself a hundred times that if he showed up again, you’d keep your distance, guard the pieces of your heart he kept leaving behind. But as he stood there you felt the walls you’d built begin to crack.

“Hey,” you replied, the word catching in your throat.

A beat of silence hung between you, heavy with all the things left unsaid. Then his face softened, his smile widening in that way that always undid you. And, as if by instinct, he reached for you, his hand lifting to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a gentleness that felt almost like an apology.

For a moment, you considered stepping back, holding onto the anger and hurt that had filled the empty space he left behind. But as his touch settled, as his thumb traced a line just below your cheekbone, all your defenses crumbled.

Before you knew it, you were reaching back, your hand settling over his as you let yourself lean into him. It was like slipping back into a familiar dream—the one where he stayed, where he was yours for longer than a fleeting moment.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you sank into his embrace, feeling the weight of his chin against your hair, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. And in that moment, against all reason, you let yourself believe that maybe this time would be different, that maybe he’d come back not just to leave again, but to finally stay.

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you with that familiar, unguarded tenderness. His chin rested on top of your head, and for a moment, it felt as if the world beyond his embrace had faded away. His fingers traced slow circles on your back, a quiet, grounding rhythm that felt as real as his voice when he finally spoke, low and rough against your hair.

“I missed you,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost didn’t catch them. He shifted, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “I’m glad to see you again.”

You looked away for a moment, the words stirring both warmth and ache deep in your chest. It was unfair, the way he could come and go, the way he could leave you longing for more, but when he looked at you like that—with his guard down, that rugged charm softened by something raw and honest—it was hard to hold onto your resolve.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, barely able to meet his gaze. He smiled at that, a slow, almost relieved smile, as if he’d feared he might’ve lost his place in your heart.

He let his hand drift to yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a familiar gesture. “Come on,” he said, tugging you gently, “let’s make a day of it.”

With Tyler by your side, you found yourself lost in the rhythm of farm chores that felt lighter, easier, with him there. He was quick to lend a hand, reaching for the same tools you did, working alongside you with that easy, capable grace he seemed to carry everywhere.

You walked through rows of vegetables, pulling up the last of the summer crops, the sun warm against your skin. Tyler watched as you tossed a few stray weeds into a pile, a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, “how’s the team? Boone, Lily, Dani, Dexter?”

He chuckled, swiping a smudge of dirt from his forearm. “They’re all good. Wild as ever. Boone’s still dragging his feet over settling down, though I keep telling him he’s a fool if he lets Lily go. And Dani’s got herself a new truck she’s way too proud of. Dexter? Well, you know him; he’s just happy to tag along for the adventure.”

You smiled at the thought of his friends, feeling a pang of longing for the life he lived—a world of movement and adventure, so different from the one you held steady here. “They sound like they’re keeping you busy.”

“Yeah, they do.” He looked at you, a softness to his expression that made your heart skip. “But they’re not the only ones.”

“What do you mean?”

“Been thinking about you too, you know. Wondering what you’re up to when I’m gone.” He paused, glancing around the fields before adding, “How’s your mom doing?”

You swallowed, touched that he remembered to ask. “She’s good. Stubborn as ever, trying to do too much on her own. But we manage.”

He nodded thoughtfully, reaching out to steady you when you stumbled on a loose patch of earth. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you?”

“Guess so,” you said, shrugging with a small smile. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He looked at you then, his gaze lingering, as if taking in the way you belonged here, rooted to this land and this life. For a moment, you thought he might say something more, but he only squeezed your hand, wordlessly acknowledging that unspoken divide between his world and yours.

Later, after a simple dinner you’d shared at the kitchen table, you both made your way out to the porch as the sun dipped low in the sky. He settled onto the swing beside you, letting his arm drape casually over the back of it as you leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder beneath your cheek.

The evening was calm, the colors of the sunset stretching across the horizon in soft shades of pink and orange, and you found yourself sighing into the quiet.

“This…this is nice,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

Tyler gave a soft hum of agreement, his thumb tracing small, comforting circles along your shoulder. “Could get used to it,” he said, his voice soft, as if testing the thought aloud. “It’s different from the rush of things out there. Being here with you—it just feels right.”

The words settled between you, gentle and unassuming, but laced with a longing that you felt all too acutely. He looked down, catching your gaze, his eyes holding yours in the fading light.

“I know you’ve got your life on the road,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “But sometimes I wonder…what it’d be like if you stayed.”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting out over the fields that stretched into the distance. Finally, he gave a small nod. “I think about it too. More than you know.”

You fell into a comfortable silence, his arm around you, your head resting on his shoulder as the last light slipped below the horizon. And in that quiet moment, you let yourself imagine a world where he was yours—not just for today, but for all the days and nights to come.

In the quiet glow of the fading sunset, Tyler’s gaze grew heavy, lingering on yours with a kind of tenderness that always seemed to pull you in too deep, too fast. And in a heartbeat, he was scooping you up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as you laughed, breathless and already feeling the rush of surrender. He carried you down the hallway, his eyes never leaving yours, each step filling the space with anticipation you could feel in every beat of your heart.

The bed was cool beneath you as he laid you gently on the sheets, his body following close, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you. His hands were careful yet urgent as he traced familiar paths along your skin, murmuring against your ear, his voice low and rough with want. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes, letting the sound of his voice wash over you, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest. “I’m lucky,” he murmured, his lips brushing your collarbone. “I’m the luckiest damn man alive that you’re mine.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling to those words and tuck them away, to let them soothe every doubt he’d left behind. But you pushed the ache aside, banishing it to some quiet corner of your mind where it couldn’t reach you now.

Instead, you let yourself get lost in him, in the way his hands knew every inch of you, how his touch left you dizzy, breathless, like you were the only thing that mattered in his world. Every whispered word, every gentle kiss pressed to your skin, they all felt like a spell you couldn’t break. And for that one perfect night, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

Afterward, as you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body pressed close to his, his arm wrapped around you, it was almost easy to forget. To ignore the hollow ache in your chest and pretend that this time, he wouldn’t slip away with the sunrise. And so, for those last quiet hours before dawn, you let yourself exist in that fragile, fleeting moment, letting go of everything but him.

The soft sound of Tyler stirring pulled you from the haze of sleep. You opened your eyes to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, already reaching for his clothes. The early morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over his figure as he moved quietly, carefully separating your clothes from his in the pile by the bed. For a moment, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, to press your face into his shoulder and beg him to stay. But something in you had finally had enough.

He noticed you were awake, glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile that you’d once let yourself believe was meant just for you. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand brushing over your shoulder. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “You need the rest.”

But you couldn’t—not anymore. Watching him move through the room, watching him get ready to leave again as if it were just another morning, you felt something inside you finally shift, that last fragile bit of hope you’d clung to finally snapping.

Sitting up, you took a steadying breath. “Tyler,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. He looked over, a hint of surprise in his eyes at your tone. You struggled to keep your voice even, the words tangled in your throat. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for someone who always leaves when things start to feel... real.”

He stilled, the easy expression on his face fading as the weight of your words sank in. You saw the conflict in his eyes, the same struggle you’d seen a dozen times before, but this time you weren’t going to let it end with an unspoken understanding. You were done with the quiet promises, the hope that somehow, one day, he might change.

“Stay,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. “Just... stay. I’m not asking you to give up chasing. I just want you to come home—to make this your home. To choose me.”

He looked at you, something like regret flickering in his gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words you wanted. 

Instead, he let out a shaky breath and looked down, and when he looked back up, all he managed was, “I’m sorry.” And you knew, in those two words, he’d already made his choice.

As he turned and started for the door, you found yourself following him, your steps echoing in the silence of the house as you trailed him through the hallway, the kitchen, the living room—all the way out onto the porch. You watched as he opened the truck door, throwing his bag into the backseat like he had a hundred times before.

“Don’t come back,” you said, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your voice wavered but held firm, steady with a finality that startled even you. 

He froze, his hand on the truck door, then turned to look at you. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—shock, maybe even hurt—as he crossed the driveway and came back up the steps, stopping just a few feet away.

“You don’t mean that, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and careful, as if he could talk you back from the edge. “You’re upset, I get that, but... you don’t mean it.”

But you shook your head. “I do, Tyler. I can’t keep doing this. If you’re not choosing me, then... then don’t come back.”

He held your gaze, searching for something, as if hoping to see the softness he’d come to rely on. But when he only saw your resolve, he let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. 

“I’ll call you later,” he murmured. “We’ll talk.”

And just like that, he’d told you everything you needed to know. You didn’t need a call. You didn’t need another apology. You’d waited long enough.

You stood on the porch, watching as he climbed back into his truck. He didn’t look back as he drove down the driveway, the morning sun casting his truck in a halo of light as he disappeared into the Kansas countryside. You watched until he was just a speck on the horizon, your heart breaking and mending all at once with the realization that this was truly goodbye.

You’d loved him with everything you had, but you knew now that you couldn’t keep waiting for him to choose you. And when the phone finally rang, you knew you wouldn’t pick it up. Not this time. Not ever again. Because the next time he came back, you’d be moved on, ready to start again without him.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done. 

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’. 

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face. 

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout. 

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh. 

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind. 

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further. 

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time. 

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her. 

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no. 

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused. 

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday. 

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner. 

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.” 

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true. 

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan. 

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy. 

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair. 

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly. 

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you. 

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response. 

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…” 

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands. 

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers. 

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand. 

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world. 

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist. 

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?” 

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.” 

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it. 

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face. 

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin. 

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt. 

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence? 

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms? 

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him. 

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm. 

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder. 

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on. 

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you. 

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast. 

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?” 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises. 

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment. 

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter. 

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt. 

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate. 

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him. 

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along. 

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

[somestarsburntoobrightly]

I love when this post comes around again.

Also, I visit Quebec often and my french is ABYSMAL. I can read it fine, and kinda understand others a bit if they talk slow enough, but actually saying the words? Forget it.

Still some people are aholes about it but a lot of people will do their best to try to work with you. Or better yet: teach you. So when I say I died laughing at the 'un sac' story it's because it is one of the only things in french that I will always know how to say and never forget the meaning of because that many cashiers have explained it to me.

Also one time I was trying to find ice and I went around the grocery at least 5 times trying to find it. No dice. So, I approached an employee. First one french only, second one french only and I don't know why I didn't just pull out my phone and show them the french word, but they knew I needed help so they went and got a third employee...also no english so idk what any of us were thinking that day. At this point though, I'm desperate and my Spanish is miles better then my french so I say "¿Hablas Español?".

Ladies and gentleman, he was so excited I'd asked. I was so excited this was going to work out. Neither of us were fluent but I was confident we'd do okay.

He says "¿Que estás buscando?" I say "Estoy buscando-" and I could not for the life of me remember the word for ice. I know I know this word for absolute certain but cannot for the life of me remember it. So I said "lo siento... no recuerdo la palabra...uhhhhhh. Oh! Helado sin leche"(Ice cream no milk).

Blank stare, because yeah that was not the most clear. So I tried again "uhhhh...agua está frio. muy, muy, muy frio."

He says "¿Quieres hielo?"

I goddamn facepalmed.

Thanks to his impressive comprehension, he goes into the back and brings me my bag of ice. I thank him profusely, he thanks me for practicing. And now I will never forget that word again.

for chinese new year they get all these famous actors and comedians together and they do a lil show and one of the comedians was like “i was in a hotel in america once and there was a mouse in my room so i called reception except i forgot the english word for mouse so instead i said ‘you know tom and jerry? jerry is here’

[beloveds-embrace]

so i have a habit of calling be love/babe/darling as a term of enderament (even in friendships) and was wondering how the dukedom guys would react to being called love or darling by the reader for the first time? I grt it probably wasnt as socially acceptable back then but the thought still plaques my mind

Historical accuracy who? We don’t know her shhh

Original post

But they’d love it! At first, you had tried really hard to stop yourself and semi-succeeded by only calling your maids like that. Your parents always hated that habit of yours, a leftover from your nanny’s own habit. They had warned you again and again and again to not let your tongue run, to keep your words polite and demure, only fallen women working in brothels would speak so freely.

And you did keep it under control for a good while; with your interactions few with John, you could remind yourself not to let your tongue loose and call him honey right off the bat when he simply calls you by your name. It’s harder with Kyle, you almost slip and call him darling, same with Johnny. With Simon it’s easier because on the times he visits, you leave him to his meetings with John and don’t bother them. (Or what you thought were business meetings at that time lol)

But once they start getting closer to you, it’s inevitable that the nicknames start slipping out.

“Kyle, darling-“ you are rushing today, and the words slip out before you realize. You just spare a thought to wonder why he’s frozen solid like that. “Where is my hairpin? I was so sure we left it on my vanity?”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you say to Johnny when he brings you a platter of fresh deserts while working, not lifting your head from the papers in front of you other than to flash him a quick, grateful smile. You don’t notice how long it takes before Johnny stutters out a ‘welcome, m’lady’ and leaves you be.

“Simon, honey?” You ask on another occasion, voice too worried to notice what you’d called him. No maids around, and no one would question you calling you husband’s ‘close friend’ by his name in your home. “Is your leg okay? You are leaning on it too much, shall I call the doctor?” His silence is typical to you, but too busy fussing over his leg, you don’t see his face. Until you look up, eyes widening at his averted eyes and red-tipped ears. “Are you sick, Simon? You should be resting instead, you know?”

And at last… “John, love,” you sigh softly, controlling the tremble of your limbs. You look away from the newspaper, though you believe it should just be called a glorified gossip magazing, and close your eyes. Duke Price’s Duchess remains barren of a child! Is a divorce in their future? “It’s alright, it is what it is-“ you try to calm him.

Up until now, from the moment you’d both read the headline, John had been fuming. He wasn’t loud in his anger, but it was clear in his ticking jaw and clenched fists. So you expect him to continue in his anger.

“…I will deal with it.” John promises, voice low but no longer a rolling thunder. He sits down calmer now, when you finally open your eyes to look at him. He’s simply gazing at you, and his hands clench in the air before he sets them down on the table. “They won’t be slandering you any longer, wife. I promise you.”

You wish you could pinpoint what soothed him, but alas. Though you know he will try his best and maybe this news agency won’t make anymore comments like this about you, others will still continue to do so.

“It’s alright.” You repeat, but the words ring hollow and the smile on your face is empty. You push your plate away. “Now, if my husband permits it, I don’t believe I can stomach much more.”

“You never need my permission for such things,” he tells you; a sentiment he’d told you from the very first day. His face softens. “Go rest. Today, I will take care of everything that needs to be done.”

Darling, sweetheart, honey, love… they wonder if you know how much those words repeat in their minds.

[earthchica]

Funny How Time Flies

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you are a shy, introverted person who wants to break out of your shell and experience fun at least once in your life. During a mutual friend's group trip, you meet Terry and have the best sex with him. Once the fun is over, will you and Terry stay in touch?

warnings: explicit smut (18+), light use of daddy, foul language, dirty talking, dom/sub, oral (f), pussy slaps, fingering, unprotected sex, nicknames (beautiful, baby, baby girl), words: (3k)

note: hey, I'm working on another mini-series, but this one is sweet, wholesome, and freaky! let me know your thoughts and if you want to be tagged in future parts. please enjoy!

-

You’ve been shy and introverted your entire life, often feeling tired of this loneliness. Your daily routine typically consists of working, exercising, and returning home, which leaves little opportunity for social interaction or adventure.

While you go out when you want to, most of your time is spent at home with your loving dog. Despite that, you know something is missing—particularly, a boyfriend and a more vibrant social life.

The anxiety stemming from your shyness made it difficult for you to step outside your comfort zone. You want to seek more experiences beyond the walls of your home and be more outgoing.

When your friends Sasha and Maya invited you on a group trip, you accepted. They were surprised but happy and reassured you that you wouldn’t feel left out or awkward during the trip.

Sasha, in particular, couldn’t contain her excitement, as explained by her boyfriend, Bryce. He was bringing his old marine friend, Terry Richmond.

You met the girls at the airport and greeted them with hugs. Sasha explained that Bryce and Cameron needed to find Terry, which made you feel nervous. She told you a little about him, but ultimately, you would have to form your own opinion about him.

"Oh, here they come! Finally,” Sasha replied, gesturing towards three tall, fit men in the distance.

Bryce was a tall, dark-skinned man, while Cam was kind of brown-skinned since he was lighter than Bryce. Then your eyes led to him. Who must be Terry?

At that moment, you felt an undeniable spark of love at first sight. Terry was slightly taller than Bryce and Cam and had a lighter skin tone.

He was so handsome, with good hands, good lips, and, good god, a nice body!!! He was fine, and you wanna intertwine him.

"Good, made it back on time and found big dawg," Bryce nudged Terry on the arm, laughed, and then moved over to Sasha.

"Yeah, bro was at the wrong damn gate/terminal," Cam said, walking over to Maya and greeted her with a kiss on the forehead.

"My fault; it's been a minute since I've been at the damn airport; y'all know I don't travel a lot," Terry chuckled lightly as he caught you staring, prompting you to look away.

"Well, we're glad you found him. Now...um, Terry, I want you to meet someone," Maya said with a smile.

He raised his eyebrows curiously and she motioned towards you and introduced you to Terry by using your name.

“Hey, there!” He said, giving a polite wave, and you just stared at him. Everyone looked at you, awaiting your response, but nothing came out until Sasha nudged you.

“Hi,” you said, waving back with a small mile. You held his gaze for a moment, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach, before shyly turning your eyes away.

The flight to Cancun, Mexico, is currently boarding for its scheduled departure at 1 PM. Passengers are advised to have their boarding passes and identification ready and to proceed to the gate promptly.

"Okay, that's us. Who's ready to get Lit?" Maya clapped her hands, easing the awkwardness and creating a more hype vibe.

Sasha wrapped her arm around your shoulders playfully, giving you a knowing look through her sunglasses.

"Look at you, drooling all over Terry already; I told you he would be your type," She teased, and you playfully hit her arm.

Soon enough, you were all on the plane, and of course, you were sitting next to Terry. He was talking to you, but you felt so nervous that your responses were short.

You both had a lot in common: you were single, didn’t get out much, and were on this trip to have fun. You couldn’t believe that a handsome man like Terry wanted to talk to you despite your shyness.

Terry was eager to talk to you from the moment he first saw you. He felt a strong connection and wanted to get to know you better. He was really glad he decided to go on this trip because your sweet and shy nature made him want to break you out of your shell.

“You're kind of the shy and quiet type, huh?! I like that; some people say I'm reserved, so I guess I can relate,"

"You don't seem like it; you seem like an outgoing person." You look at him for a second. His captivating hazel-green eyes burn into yours, causing a flutter in your chest.

"Well, I sometimes can be both; I'm a little reserved when I don't know the person, but if I know you, I'm more open, I guess," Terry explained, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"What makes me so different?" You asked in a playful tone, building some confidence.

Terry laughs and smirks, "I guess you're that special!"

You felt like your heart exploded the way he looked at you, obviously attracted to you. You just nodded, looking away, trying to hide your smile.

“Hey....come on, I was just getting used to hearing that pretty voice of yours,” Terry said, leaning in, and your breath hitched.

You and Terry chatted throughout the entire plane ride. Although you were still a bit shy, you found yourself being more talkative than before, which felt positive.

Perhaps Terry was just what you needed for this trip. Once your group arrived at the stunning villa, you marveled at its beautiful interior.

“Alright,” Maya announced, her enthusiasm infectious as she gathered everyone to discuss the week's activities. She carefully ensured everyone felt included and excited about them.

Maya suggested you all chill and settle into our bedrooms for the afternoon. You began rolling your heavy suitcase down the hall, its wheels clicking softly against the floor.

“Do you need a hand?” Terry asked, approaching with a friendly smile and ready to help you with your suitcase.

"Yeah, thanks." You said with a small smile, walking to your bedroom door and walking in.

"You can put it right there, " You said, pointing at the chair before you and indicating that he should place it there. Terry glanced at you curiously as if he were too nervous to ask a question.

A moment of silent communication passes between you. Terry stepped forward, closing the distance, and you felt your heart race.

You instinctively wanted to shy away, but you fought against the urge, reminding yourself to be brave.

“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but I would love to take you on a date tonight. I am drawn to you and want to crack your shy shell and see what’s inside. Of course, only if you want me to," He expressed with a hopeful smile.

“I would love that, Terry,” You said with a smile. Terry smiled back, gave you his number, and set the date plans.

He walked out, winking at you as he left the bedroom. You bit your lip and excitedly squealed, jumping dramatically onto the comfortable bed.

-

You told the girls about the date, and they were so excited that they went upstairs to your bedroom to help you out.

“I don’t think I can do this; it's been so long since i've been on a date, and all together, I'm shy as fuck” You said, getting your nerves up.

“Babe, it’s fine. You need this, and Terry is an amazing guy. We wouldn't have brought him on this trip if we didn't know he would be perfect for you.” Sasha says, ease your anxiety a lot more.

“Sasha is right; just have fun and let go, but not too much; you might get dicknotized,” Maya smiles playfully as she hands you a sexy yellow dress that catches the light beautifully.

"This will look amazing on you," She added, her eyes sparkling excitedly. As you slipped into the dress, your nerves faded, replaced by a sense of pride.

Maya's perfume filled the room as she sprayed on you; it had a familiar and comforting aroma.

Sasha, the fashionista, was styling your box braids and applying your makeup while you looked in the mirror.

"Remember," She said, glancing over her shoulder, "confidence is key. Just be yourself."

After saying bye to Sasha and Maya, you closed the door behind you and took a deep breath. You were walking downstairs and Terry stood there at the bottom, clearly waiting for you.

His eyes widened, taking in every detail. You couldn't help but giggle at his look of awe. He seemed captivated by your radiant beauty, his gaze lingering on your elegant curves.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” Terry said. You smiled and looked him over, noticing he was wearing a black button-up shirt and shorts.

"Thank you. Um..you look beautif-I mean handsome!" You cursed at yourself in your mind, feeling totally embarrassed, and Terry found it cute.

"Thanks! Are you ready?" Terry asked, holding his arm out with a smile and you happily accepted.

Both of you walk leisurely down the path, arm in arm while listening to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore accompanies you as you make your way to the charming ocean-view restaurant that overlooks the sparkling waters.

You and Terry walk inside, and the warm glow of the intimate setting welcomes you. You find a cozy table for two awaiting your arrival. Moments later, a friendly waiter approaches, ready to take your drink orders.

While waiting, Terry struck up a conversation that flowed effortlessly. His warm smile and engaging demeanor made it easy to share about yourself. With every exchanged joke and smile, you found yourself becoming more comfortable, as if he had a talent for bringing out the best in people.

His smooth charm was evident; he made you feel special and understood, gently encouraging you to step out of your shy little shell and embrace the moment because the air between you crackled with sexual tension, growing palpable by the minute.

The waiter approached your table, balancing a tray of drinks that shimmered in the dim light. He set them down before you with a polite smile. After taking your food orders, he left you both.

Terry, his eyes sparkling, leaned in closer, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“While we wait, how about we play a game of ‘Would you rather?’” Terry proposed, the excitement in his voice making the suggestion feel inviting.

"Okay," You replied, intrigued and ready to dive into the game.

“Okay, would you rather…” Terry started, propping his chin on his hand as he contemplated the question.

“Would you rather live deep in the ocean or explore the vastness of space?”

You paused for a moment, considering the options carefully. “Hmm, that’s a tough choice. But I think I would choose space,” You finally replied.

“Mmm, interesting! What makes you lean toward space?” Terry inquired, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I have always been interested in space and astronomy. If I could, I would be an astronaut, and the experience would be exciting,” You said, taking a sip of your wine.

"Wow, I would love to learn more about that, but it's your turn," Terry said, his eyes lighting up with curiosity and a warm smile spreading across his face. The "Would You Rather" game had been going for a while and had taken a slightly naughty turn.

Before long, the waiter arrives with both of your meals, setting them down on the table with a flourish. As the delightful aromas fill the air, you take a moment to appreciate the dishes before returning to Terry.

Intrigued by the connection you two are building, you changed the subject wanting to know about Terry's interests and experiences, eager to learn more about his passions.

Terry paused mid-sentence, his gaze falling on your necklace, which had come unhooked. With a gentle smile, he leaned in close and secured the clasp.

You found yourself momentarily lost in the warmth of his touch, savoring the soft caress against your dark brown skin, a delightful contrast that sent a shiver of warmth through you.

Terry pulled away, a smirk playing on his lips, and effortlessly transitioned back into talking as if nothing had happened. You couldn't help but notice his subtle game; it was working on you like a charm.

Your desire was intense, and your craving seemed to deepen with every word he spoke. You were utterly captivated, wanting him more than ever before.

After dinner, you both walk silently side by side on the beach. Your hands nearly touch until Terry grabs yours and holds it, making you smile.

You slowly look up at him, and you find that his eyes are already fixed on you.

"What?" You asked.

"Just admiring how gorgeous you are," Terry stopped you from walking by wrapping his arms around your plump waist.

You touched his chest, thinking you both would finally kiss. But Terry was teasing you again. He lifted you slightly, catching you off guard and causing you to drop your purse and heels.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing, Terry?” You gasped, struggling to escape his firm hold on you.

“Let’s get in the water; I bet it’s cold,” He said, trying to pull you closer.

“No, Terry!” You squealed, quickly breaking free from his grasp and running away from him with your tongue sticking out.

“Hey!” he yelled, chasing after you. When he finally caught you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and started tickling you.

You bounced up and down with laughter, trying to escape his grip. Just as Terry was about to say something, he accidentally tripped over something in the sand. Both of you fell together. You looked at him, and he looked at you.

You both laughed as Terry rolled off of you, pulling you onto his chest and kissing the top of your head, making your heart flutter. He eventually helped you out of the sand and retrieved your purse and heels.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, surprising him with the suddenness of your action. As you pulled back, a shy smile crept onto your face, and you turned your gaze to the side, feeling excitement and nervousness.

In an instant, Terry reached out, his fingers gently cupping your cheek, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes searched yours, a blend of sweetness and warmth reflected in them.

Then, without breaking his gaze, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he kissed you, igniting a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You let out a muffled moan, feeling his hands gliding over your ass with a gentle yet teasing touch. Your breath caught in your throat, pulling away while feeling him firmly grasping it.

"Do you wanna continue this back at the villa?" Terry asked, his eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you.

"Yes," you said, nodding firmly as you still held the gaze. Your voice remained steady, even as a whirlwind of emotions surged within you—excitement, desire, and a hint of nervousness mingled together.

-

Once stepped into the bedroom, Terry pressed you against the solid door. His lips met yours in a passionate, rough kiss, feeling an electric spark hit and made your heart race.

"I've been waiting to take this dress off you since I saw you in it," He murmured in your ear, running his hands down the bodice of your yellow dress.

"And it's just driving me wild," He whispered, which made you shiver.

"Well, take it off if you're brave enough," You spoke boldly, which made him smirk.

You gasped as he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the bed. You still couldn't get over the fact that he was so strong to pick you up, which was a turn-on for you.

He picked you down as both of you stood at the edge of the bed; he was kissing your neck, and his lips peppered on your dark-brown skin, pausing here and there to suck on the sensitive flesh.

His hand reached behind your back to find the zipper of your dress, pushing it down to your feet. You step out of it, and his hands touch your exposed breasts.

As you stood there, a wave of insecurity washed over you, causing you to shy away slightly. Just when you thought about retreating and hiding yourself, Terry stopped you. His gaze was steady and inviting, searching your eyes.

"You're beautiful, baby. Don't hide from me!" He whispers genuinely, making you feel warm inside. You kiss him as his hands grip your breasts.

You let out a soft moan, pulling away and popping his black button-up shirt open. You admired his abs and slid your fingers down his chest.

Terry shivered slightly at your touch; you had the same effect on him as he had on you. Both of you practically ripped each other's clothes. You gently laid yourself down as Terry hovered above you.

You pulled him down for another kiss as he cupped your right breast in his hand while his lips moved away from yours. His tongue dragged across the dark area of your areola.

"Such nice big tits, so good to suck," Terry growls and grabs both of your breasts with his hand, squeezing and sucking them, causing you to whimper.

"How does that feel, baby?" He asked, pulling away from sucking your nipples as his right hand traveled down to your wet folds, and circled them.

A loud moan escaped your lips, felt him push two fingers inside of you, prompting you to cover your mouth to avoid being heard by the others.

"Nah, baby girl, none of that. You have no idea how desperate I want to hear you moan for me. If you don’t let yourself make any sounds, I’ll have to find a way to draw them out."

"Yes-yes....ohhhh....It-it feels good....ahh......so good," You moaned, feeling him moved below and rested between your plump legs, glancing up at you. He spread them wide, getting a good look at your pussy.

"Mmmm, a pretty girl with a pretty pussy" He said before placing his hands on your legs and dragging his tongue between your wet folds.

"Yes....fuck....ahh fuck" You moaned, arching your back and grabbing your breasts as he repeated the action with more pressure, his tongue sliding against your bundle of nerves.

"Mmm, tastes so damn good, girl" His hands were holding your wide hips as he continued to suck and lick you dry, drawing desperate soft moans from your mouth. 

Terry buried deeper between your plump legs, which was driving you crazy. The pleasure you were feeling going through your body was so overwhelming.

"Ahh fuck, Terry fucking eat this pussy, mutherfucka" You moaned, and your fingers gently caressed his head, relishing the closeness of him.

Terry chuckles. "Mmm, there you go, keep talking nasty to me, baby. I see I'm bringing the best out of you, the freak in you," He said before resuming devouring your pussy.

Another loud moan escaped your lips as the pleasure built within you, clenching around his fingers while you felt yourself getting close.

"Are you gonna cum, beautiful?" He asked, moving up to look into your eyes and began to finger fuck you fast.

"Yes, Terry, oh shit.....fuck-fuck don't stop fuck." You cried, suddenly cumming hard, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

"Yeah, that's it, baby girl. Fucking cum for Daddy," Terry said, still fingering you and then smacking your pussy as wet gushing came out of you, causing you to cry.

"Shit, look at that, baby. And I did all that with my tongue and fingers; I can't wait to see how your pussy takes my dick" He said with a chuckle, licking his fingers, and you watched him coming down from your intense high.

You kissed him, slightly tasting yourself as he cupped your breast in his hand while your hand slid down his chest to his throbbing dick; you got a good look at it and gasped at it.

"Like what you see?" Terry whispered in your ear.

"Yes, it's so big," You moaned, moving your hand up and down his length as you kissed him again but deeply. A very deep moan came from his mouth when you got a little faster.

"Fuck, girl, I need you…" Terry said with a slight moan, which made you smile. He moved on top of you and slowly entered your folds, causing you to go bananas.

You were loving the fullness of his thickness inside of you as he began thrusting, drawing soft moans from you. Terry asked, looking down at you to see if it was good, but you nodded.

"Come on, baby. Don't get shy on me again; tell me how it feels?" He asked, his hands on your waist sliding down to grasp your wide hips, pulling you closer so he could bury himself deeper.

"Yes, Terry fuck me, fuck it feels good!" You moaned, wrapping your plump legs around his waist tighter, allowing a new, delicious angle that you both liked.

Your moans became louder and more frequent as his thrusts came faster but still as gently and passionately as ever.

"That's it, girl....let everyone know i'm fucking this pussy good, You like it, you like how I am fucking you" Terry moaned while his rhythm never stopped looking down at you with so much desire and lust;

"Oh yes, Daddy fuck me, it feels so good," You cried, looking up at him as he lifted your legs to his shoulders and pounding into you faster and harder but much more profound.

"Take that fucking dick like a good girl;" Terry growled, tightening his grip on your legs.

"....fuck are you about to cum, baby?" Terry moaned, feeling the warmth of your walls, clenched around him.

"Oh....yes, fuckfuckfuck..I'm-I'm cumming-" You moaned, digging your nails deep into his arms and scratching down.

"Fucking let it go, baby."

"AHHH!!" You screamed, coming hard again and Terry wasn't too far behind, cursing, pulling out; your legs immediately fell to his waist as his hot cum spurted all over your belly, making you slightly giggle.

"Shit," Terry cursed, lowered himself, and propped up on his left arm as his head buried in your neck.

He entirely collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him. You slid your hand up and down his sweaty back while he gave you small, lazy kisses on your face and neck.

Terry rolls off you, and both of you calm down from your high. You bite your lip and turn to prop yourself up to look at him.

"That was—" You couldn't decide what word to use. It was beyond amazing, it was...

"Mind-blowing, yeah," He agreed, looking at you and lifting himself up to kiss you.

"Up for another round in the shower?"He asked, pulling away and caressing your hip.

"Yes!" Both of you smirked at each other and got out of bed to walk to the bathroom; Terry made you cum two more times that night.

[crazyvik97rpg]

The atmosphere with everyone around was really lovely, even though they still very much were in a hospital. Sebastian‘s parents and Isa too were more than glad that the surgery went well overall, Sebastian was ready and set for a smooth recovery and with William by his side, Isa was most certain he‘d be back on his feet before they knew it.

Their mom was the most worried of them all though. She just couldn’t bear seeing Sebastian this way, she wasn’t used to it, as was he. He couldn’t get up on his own, let alone walk right now, he was basically confined to the bed. She just wanted this whole ordeal to be over already, it worried her to no end.

And well, as soon as Dr Cole entered the room at some point, to check on Sebastian once more, Cynthia really had a lot more questions. When he‘d be all recovered again, if the cancer was all gone, how high the chance was that it would come back, all of that. Honestly, it wasn’t easy for Sebastian to hear all those possible horror–scenarios. Isa noticed that – at first, she and William shared an amused look but honestly, it was not ideal to be reminded again that they didn’t make it yet. There was still a lot of work to be done.

And truth be told, Dr Cole also couldn’t answer all of Cynthia‘s questions, as Dr Chalman was Sebastian‘s primary doctor in that matter. All she could say, was, that the surgery was successful, give some details and make assumptions about further treatments. Isa and William shared looks, amused at first, but clearly it didn’t help much for William to hear all that either. Isa was there for him mainly, too – everyone was concerned for Sebastian, for obvious reasons, so they simply overlooked that William had a really hard time dealing with all of this basically alone too.

„Usually what is done, is, radiation or chemotherapy, so we can be sure we didn’t overlook any cancer cells. But I assume your primary doctor can tell you more about that, it usually isn’t done after weeks after the surgery, so your body can really recover properly first“, she spoke and well, for now, Cynthia had to accept these answers. Albert was listening attentively as well – he was just as concerned, Cynthia just showed it way more openly.

„Thank you, for all the explanations“, Albert interrupted his wife to ask even mire questions and thanked the doctor, as Dr Cole had a tight schedule still and needed to check on other patients too – that gave Cynthia the signal that she probably should stop pestering her with more questions and Dr Cole said her good–bye for now. Sebastian didn’t see her for the last time anyway.

„So…you know, it’s good that they found it so effortlessly, Sebby, that’s great news. Imagine they didn’t know what the problem was, but you got your surgery so quickly. So we basically don’t need to worry, right?“, she smiled and looked also at the others, Isa, William and Albert, „Did you think about which treatment you will do yet? I mean, you need to pick something anyway, none of them sound especially pleasing…it’s more about picking the lesser evil, I guess“.

„Darling…how about we let Sebastian recover properly first. He’s basically fresh out of the operating room“, Albert chimed in and showed her gentle smile, „Sebastian has plenty of time to worry about that later.“ Well, Isa at this point once again shared a look with William – their mom was starting to become a handful. She couldn’t exactly blame her…but Isa didn’t want her to bring more worry into this room than anything else.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: jihoon dealing with an extremely horny reader, guided masturbation, smut, fingering, mentions of body fluids (cum/precum), humiliation, crying, overstimulation, lots of dirty talk, mentions of penetrative sex, teasing, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, degrading.

@jihootea ALWAYS planting jihoon brainrot on meeee!! now i cant stop picturing how jihoon would deal with his partner when she's drop-head horny… he would be a MEANIE, like, no mercy. AND he can almost smell the horniness from you. even though he's turned back with his producing chair.

except you know, know, he’s aware. he can probably feel your eyes drilling into him, can hear the way you’re struggling to sit still, thighs rubbing together just enough to keep your sanity hanging by a thread.

and then, without even looking at you, he says, “you good over there? squirming like you’ve got a problem or something.” his tone is so casual it makes you want to throw something. it’s not even a question—it’s pure fucking tease, dripping with this smugness that makes you want to melt and scream at the same time.

“jihoon…” you whisper begging, but he just lets out this tiny scoff, like he’s already bored of you. he leans back in his chair, finally giving you his attention, eyebrow cocked like he’s waiting for you to entertain him.

“what?” he drawls, eyes sliding down to your legs, then back up to your flushed face. “you slut can’t keep that little thing between your legs under control?”

it’s embarrassing, the way he says it, like he’s talking about some little pet that you can’t handle. you bite your lip, trying not to combust as he looks you up and down, arms crossed, manspreading, all arrogant and completely unimpressed.

“if you’re that desperate,” he says, eyes narrowing, “why don’t you show me? right here...”

your mouth goes dry, heart slamming against your ribcage. but you can’t ignore the way his voice gets lower, like he’s waiting, daring you.

your hand’s barely down there inside your shorts, fingers brushing against the clit, when you hear him snap, “who said you could keep those on?” his tone’s rougher than usual. you’re quick to slide them off, hooking your thumbs in the waistband and slipping out of your shorts and panties in one go like they were one piece only. you toss them at him with a grin, watching his eyes light up satisfied as he catches them, raising an eyebrow at you.

he takes the panties from the bundle and brings them up to his face, holding your gaze the whole time. smirking. the way he watches you squirm, vulnerable in a way you never quite do with anyone else. it’s him. “getting all shy now? didn’t think you had it in you.”

you swallow, cheeks burning, but you don’t drop his gaze, even as he tilts his head.

“are you waiting for permission or something?” he snaps, that edge back in his voice. “didn’t i tell you to touch yourself? whats the hold-up? are you just that pathetic that you need me to walk you through it?”

you pout, voice coming out soft and whiny, “aren’t you going to help me?”

“oh, no, sweetheart. if you’re that desperate, you’ll just have to do it yourself. all by yourself, since you’re such a big girl already.”

your hand slides between your legs, finding that slick, that had been bothering you for hours already, you shiver as your fingers spread it over your folds, teasing your clit. his ears twitch up almost like a cat when he hears how wet you are.

“barely even touching yourself and already making a mess. and here i thought you had some self-control.” he drawls.

you whimper, biting your lip as you roll your fingers over your clit, feeling that ache, that need, building up. but he’s just watching, eyes raking over every inch of you with that judgmental gaze, making you feel ten times more exposed than you are.

“is that the best you can do?” he sneers. “pathetic. thought you wanted this, but you’re just playing around, aren’t you? can’t even get yourself off without me telling you what to do.”

you let out a frustrated whine, pressing harder, slipping a finger inside, anything to relieve that pressure, but it’s like his voice is right there, mocking you, judging every little movement.

“keep going,” he says, voice so cold that makes your skin shiver up. “maybe if you try a little harder, you’ll actually be worth watching. spread that pussy f’me.”

your fingers obey trembling as you slide them out to spread yourself for him, he sees the mouthwatering cream being expelled from the tight little hole. “look at that,” he sneers, tilting his head as he takes in the view. “so messy. you’re really that worked up, babe? got yourself all soaked just sitting here like a needy little slut.”

your breath hitches, a moan slipping out despite yourself as you finally push two fingers in, hips bucking, feeling that burn. his eyes gleam, watching the way you struggle to keep quiet, and he smiles, soooo pleased.

“aw, you’re whining already?” he coos, tone mocking, like he’s talking to some helpless, needy thing. “that desperate? thought you could handle yourself, but look at you—just a mess on my couch. tell me… wishing it was my fingers instead?”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes, hips lifting, and he catches it, eyes sparking.

“oh?” he chuckles, leaning in slightly. “or is it my cock you want, huh? that’s it, isn’t it? poor baby, too worked up to even admit it.”

the moan that slips from your lips is helpless, your back arching as you dig your fingers deeper, feeling the heat coil tighter. his smirk widens.

“then show me how bad you want it,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower. “curl those fingers up, just like that… think you can even get yourself close to how good i’d make you feel?”

you nod, whimpering as you obey, curling your fingers up to hit that weak spot, feeling the way it makes your toes curl and your thighs tremble.

your warning slips out in a shaky breath, “ji… wanna cum,” as you meet his gaze, eyes pleading. he watches you, eyes heavy hunger, one hand squeezing his length through his pants, jaw tight as he throws his head back for a second, like he’s savoring the sight of you so worked up.

when he looks at you again. “go on,” he coos, smirking as he tilts his head. “didn’t last long, did you?”

you feel your body tremble, hips jerking as your hand moves faster, fingers slipping inside as you cry out, not caring anymore how loud you are, a mess being created on his studio's sofa. but just as you start to come down, just as you think it’s over, he speaks again.

“who said you could stop?” he sneers, eyes narrowing as he watches you with that amused smirk. “you’re not done yet. keep those fingers moving. keep going for me.”

a whimper escapes your lips as your overstimulated body obeys, fingers shaky but pushing in deeper, pressing against that sensitive spot again. your hips buck up involuntarily, every nerve screaming pleasure giving you a new ache that has you gasping.

“jihoon, but—” you try, voice breaking, but he cuts you off, voice sharp.

“if you don’t keep going, there’s no chance in hell i’ll give you what you want.”

you bite your lip, a desperate moan slipping out as you force yourself to keep moving. your fingers finally slip out, drenched and trembling, but instinct pulls you to the sensitive bud, fingers barely brushing over it as you start drawing slow, shaky circles. the touch is too much, making your eyes squeeze shut as your legs shake on either side, instinctively trying to close, but you keep them open, fighting against every urge to stop.

your face frown and you feel a hot prickle at the corners of your eyes, your voice breaking, choked, as you mutter, “ji… can’t… i can’t take it anymore…” your lower belly clenches, your body spasming at every soft circle you trace, a tear slips down your cheek, face flushed and damp, as you shudder, fingers shaking as they push you to that razor-thin edge again.

he leans forward, catching every broken sound, every little sob, his smirk widening as he coos, “oh, poor thing… already crying?” his words make you shake even harder, your body backstabbing you as you keep going, fingers pressed firmly on that nerve.

your thighs are burning from holding yourself open, your sobs grow louder, broken and dumb, and he’s just sitting back, arms crossed, his forearm muscles popping, veins standing out as he leans forward, eyes fixed on every shaky fingering.

“isn’t this what you wanted, slut?”

a whimper escapes you, eyes blurry with tears as you nod, “j-jihoon… can’t…” your hips buck up, trying to escape your own hand.

“keep going thought you were horny. or were you just pretending?”

another whimper, tears spilling down your cheeks as you press down on that sensitive bundle of nerves, every little touch pushing you higher, closer to that edge you’re not sure you can survive again. “please… too much…,” you cry, voice cracked.

“too much? aww poor baby...” he taunts, shaking his head slowly.

your insides twist, so intense you’re not sure where one ends and the other begins. you curl over yourself. each touch making your vision blur. nerves fried until you’re nothing but a quivering, soaked mess on the couch, every last bit of strength melting out of you. you don’t stop until he finally murmurs,

“good girl. that’s enough.”

you collapse, body going limp, fingers sliding away as you fall back, every limb heavy and useless. your chest heaves, cheeks flushed, face still damp with tears, and hes on you in a second, leaning over, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, lips.

“there ya’ go… you did so good, baby...” he whispers, like he’s helping you piece yourself back together. “my good girl, so perfect.”

you close your eyes, he shifts, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest, and you sink into the comfort of him, exhaustion pulling you under as he strokes your hair, fingers gentle, calming.

“get some rest,” he murmurs, pressing a final kiss to your temple. “you’ll need it, sweetheart. when you wake up, i’m going to make sure you really can’t move. gonna fuck you so hard...”

[rxmxa]

random astro observations part 14. ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆✨

✨just for fun im just talking random ass shit based on PERSONALL observations..✨ part 13 here. 🎬

tw: mention of death on the last observations.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅pisces, cancer and scorpio risings WILLL be treating the date like a job interview. With that earth 7h (virgo, capricorn and taurus) TRUST that we have checked out your references and will get back to you in 2-5 business days. 💅 but no fr we need security bc we are real strict over here.🔒

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅its only to protect our hearts bc we just truly desire someone we can emotionally connect with (water 5h) and also be open to talk to about our fears and desires and the other shit we keep to ourselves (air 8h + 12h) 😤

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅my friend was telling me about how the lines that actors get immense praise for end up being improvised most of the time and that really reminded me of the aqua-leo axis. When you detach and are willing to experiment (aqua) the more likely you are to be recognized because you are becoming in tune with your natural talents (leo).

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅Every single time I'm in the shower I always get an epiphany or an idea of some sort or make a connection (usually its me thinking about peoples birth charts LOL) but every single fucking time im like wtf I gotta remember this when I get out this is good ass info! and I always forget!!!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅^ It has to be my uranus in the 12h triggering that. Uranus= sudden downloads of information. 12h= secluded spaces, like the shower. I guess thats why I forgot so easily though (real 12h subconcious shit). Next time im bringing a whiteboard in there or some shit

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I was talking to my pisces venus coworker and she was saying that for as long as she could remember she had always daydreamed of love. She said she would was always trying to mold herself into the ideal version of what her crushes liked (its in her 7h) and as a 7h sun myself I was shook but I also understood how this happens even in a subconcious way u can mirror people. but the love she's looking for is literally HERS. she has so much love to give and she was like who can accept this? YOU. GIVE it to yourself.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ She had been in a relationship before with someone who was SHIT person but its like she kept forgiving him or in a sense blocking it out. like thats the thing about pisces placements they will talk about some unhinge ass shit someone does to them in a such a casual way it will have you being like oh okay for a sec until you're like oh,, oh yeah no thats bad.. really bad. I say this as a pisces rising.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ and AGAIN AND AGAIN that's what helps me as someone with a lot of neptune aspects, a pisces rising, pluto squares, pluto in the 10h, lilith in the 11h, like ppl have done me FUCKING DIRTY in social and groups settings and I use to make it so much worse for myself by not nipping it in the bud. that's why anytime someone does some shit that FEELS FUCKED up you take that as a sign.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ^ dont sit there and try to rationalize it, dont try to put logic in it, dont talk about how well, when they were in 2nd grade their hamster died so maybe its their trauma. When people show you who they are you ACCEPT IT. if someone does something that a piece of shit would only do, then accept that maybe they suck. I dont mean your friend forgot to get you a straw when they bought you a drink. I mean when people do shit on purpose that puts your well-being (emotional, mental, physical) in harms way. trust me bby ik what im talking about >___<

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ and honestly, if you are plutonian or have a lot of neptune aspects or saturn in your chart as well, you're gonna learn shit the hard way. With different energy ofc. Pluto energy = will have you learning through trauma like someone passing away or trying to sabotage you. Neptune energy = will have you learning through deception like someone backstabbing you. Saturn energy= will have you learning through roadblocks, like other people being able to get shit the easy way out like a parent paying for their stuff and you having to bust your ass to get it.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ pluto in your chart can also show where people try to humble you, not like a saturnian restrictive way but more like to put you in your place because they could feel intimidated. for ex I have pluto in the 10h and my coworkers will say backhanded shit like "Oh woooow you really are going all out huh?" like instead of being normal and being like wow that is great work! they try to subtly hint that maybe im the one doing too much instead of it being them doing the bare minimum.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ If you have pluto in the 1h people could just say in general that "you're too much" or "too much to deal with" or "abrasive." Pluto in the 3h and during conversations people might look around, eyes wide, wanting you to tone it down or say that you're being inappropriate or too intense. Pluto in the 4h and people ESPECIALLY your family trying to humble you by bringing up the past: "Oh you like that now? I remember when you were a kid you..." Pluto in the 4h will especially get humbled by their family anytime they want to change or try something different than the way they were raised, like girl?! this is a family not a damn CULT.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I have a pluto in the 4h friend who has family members that will tell the most fucked up stories about what they do to each other but then sigh and be like "but family is family so we have to accept them" or her family members say stuff like "blood is thicker than water." like no... pluto in the 4h ppl, family is who YOU CHOSE!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I have a coworker who is sooo nice to me but still theres something that makes me feel suspicious of her and it makes me feel so bad BUT TO BE FAIR she does have her mars in my 7h and we did have a slight rift when we first started working together. but even now, im still like do u secretly hate me...

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ She has mars in the 12th house and I also feel like thats a big factor in it because 12h house energy is so... MUTED. with placements there you really gotta focus on peoples subtle acts of support that reveal their intentions versus their words (or lack of). And so far she has been a very supportive and helpful coworker. But yeah thats 12h energy honestly like my friends brother is a cancer sun and mercury in the 12h and she feels like hes so unloving and unsupportive and its bc baby boy is not gonna be straight up telling her! she needs to watch his actions, his mannerisms. she needs to understand him more through his actions over time rather than words. ofc it varies from chart to chart.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ people with 12h mars could often have people WONDERING, "oh are they mad at me?" or sun 12h ppl could have people wondering, "oh what are they hiding from me?" or mercury in the 12h could have people wondering, "Oh, what is that they are not saying?"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Do you follow your profection years? For me, it’s wild how they line up. When I was in a 7H year, I got into my first serious relationship (classic 7H relationships vibe). When I was 7 years old, in my 8H year, my dad passed away (8H ruling death). Fast forward to my 9H year (travel), I visited family abroad after four years—that’s the longest I’ve EVER gone without seeing them.Then, in my 10H year (careers), I literally started my career. My 12H year? traumatic as fuck (I got into a serious car accident with friends and my back was fucked up and my friend had internal bleeding) but honestly the aftermath of that really forced me to grow the fuck up and surprise surprise, all of that happened bc I wasnt trusting my gut on who I was hanging out with. but anyhoo. Now I’m in a 1H year, and it’s all about me. I’m actually focusing on myself and being way more gentle in the process. It’s been kind of nice, honestly. if u wanna know yours just google annual profections it'll show u the wheel :)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Saturn transits in your chart mean fucking BUSINESS! I remember my friend got married when saturn (commitments) was transiting her 7h (marriage/ contracts). Saturn transits will have you reflecting on what you want long term in your life and what desperately needs to be checked in on or discarded or cleaned up.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Saturn in pisces transiting in my first house had me acting right. I remember when a "friend" aka someone who was at fault with that whole car accident shit (someone who I dont speak to anymore) had asked me to do some shady shit after it. I was like FUCK NO! no bc 1) I have integrity but also 2) if I tried to take the easy way out or bullshit I knew saturn was gonna beat my ass HARDER. im glad I trusted myself and was the bigger person.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Saturn was still transiting my 1H during the accident, but it had just come out of my 12H, where I was actively in therapy. In my 1H, I’d been feeling way more at peace and healed, so when I started making questionable choices with who I was hanging out with, it was like Saturn decided it was time to knock some sense into me.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Me: walking on the ledge, ignoring my instincts, hanging with toxic people Saturn: "Don’t do that, you’re gonna fall." Me: falls Saturn: "DIDN’T I FUCKING TELL YOUUU?!"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ but you know you live and you learn and at the end of the day it could have been so much worse (aka all of us being dead) but me and friend made a full recovery and everyone else had minor injuries.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I was watching this video called "the root cause of addiction" and in the video he said that at the end of the day we're are just looking for ways to go back to that child we once were and to experience genuine joy. and that was so 5h coded to me. He said in the video we do things like cooking or play video games because we want to get that joy back. The 5th house is all about sex, good fortune, art, creativity, pleasure, entertainment, birth, children. We really can use our 5th house to actively nurture our inner child.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ for example, cancer or moon in the 5th house wants to go back to space where they feel safe, warm, and comfortable. feeling free to express ur softness and vulnerability. a place you love going back to! they can do this through cooking, baking, or watching your childhood favorite movie with family.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ the little things, like baking a pie or getting out an old art project help us connect with the childlike wonder and happiness that we still have inside us. You can find your own special, simple pleasures by looking into the 5th House in your chart. And even if ur childhood was not the best (I completely get that) you can nurture your inner child now !! your hobbies and fave past times r not silly they matter too

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ and think about the 5h-11h axis, if anything your hobbies and creativity (5h) helps you find your people and be in groups that actually align with what u love and care about (11h)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚and think about how sometimes that hobby or passion (5h) can bring u immense success, recognition and profit (11h)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ with pluto in aqua we are going to see people (aqua) transforming (pluto) their lives in all aspects in regard to their hobbies and passions (5h). People are gonna continue to explore what they love and find their niche and for some their success will skyrocket over night, for others the process might be slower. think about the ppl making bank rn from tiktok videos organizing their fridge. bc it just makes them happy to do it.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ tw: death. I'm not trying to end on a dark note, its merely a thought I had so please take this with a grain of salt. but speaking of pluto in aqua, that reminds me of this video I was watching about how the Romans would have the Gladiatorial games, where combatants fought each other or wild animals to the death, BECAUSE they were so overindulgent in all other areas in life....

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ like you have sooo much that your idea of pleasure just gets distorted in this sense. what do you want when you have had everything?. The scale of these events was astonishing, with sometimes hundreds of animals being killed in a single day. Pluto in aqua is going to transform the way as a society we view, experience and talk about death.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ there are ppl that are gonna have so much wealth and power and be so fucking bored that maybe in 20 years from now someone gets jailed or some shit to try to recreate that. I remember reading this story in high school about this rich man who had an isolated island and he would have people lost on it to hunt them for sport. iM NOT SAYING we're about to get put on the wall like those deers when pluto goes into aqua, im SAYING THO that shit like that, ideas like that, could pop up

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I was also thinking about how pluto in aqua could mean more video games or tech or simulations (aqua) where you can try out how it feels like to die (pluto). like you can pick how and what you want to feel. some kind of shit like that. tech is only gonna keep getting more and more advanced now. we talk about the ipad kids and how they be on there typing and facetiming ppl and therye like 2 but imagine the kids growing up during pluto in aqua, I already know theyre gonna think we're soo uncool hahaha

[redeemingvillains]

obliviate - mattheo riddle

summary: when voldemort finds out about you and mattheo, he devises the perfect way to keep you apart.

word count: 5k

a/n: okeeey i know this is longer, but i actually adore it so much! kinda put my heart + soul into this one! extremely special shoutout to @pizzaapeteer's research on mattheo's favorite quidditch team, which provided a name i needed at the very end (hint hint!) ♡

warnings: angst (but also fluff, pls, it's me), use of the cruciatus curse, voldemort being voldemort.

soundtrack: dancing to the sound of a broken heart - galantis

OBLIVIATE (v.) -- To forget, to wipe from existence.

You noticed before he did.

It was early; the morning sun was just barely sneaking past the curtains in the window that fluttered gently in the autumn breeze, setting his bedroom in a deep golden hue. Your limbs were heavy with sleep and you were settled warmly in Mattheo’s arms, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest at your back, his warm breath on your neck. Normally this was your very favorite way to wake up, but something was off, something had made your eyelids flutter open, a feeling, a foreboding.

You didn’t want to wake him, gods knew he needed his sleep, so you squinted slowly around the room until your eyes rested on the very arms that were wrapped around you.

It was his dark mark, writhing against his skin.

No— you thought, but in an instant, Mattheo jolted awake, breathing heavily like he was coming out of a nightmare, or coming into one, and within a moment he was pulling his arms out from around you and you immediately felt cold for their absence.

“Matty” you whispered, turning to face him and reaching out for him, but he was already up and out bed, pulling his clothes on haphazardly.

He turned at the sound of your voice, looking longingly at you for the briefest moment, tangled in his sheets, perfect in the morning glow, your eyes begging him not to leave.

“Stay?” you asked quietly, and his stomach lurched. Fuck if you didn’t have the ability to bring him to his knees with just one word; but his arm burned and ached with impatience… He wouldn’t be kept waiting much longer and Mattheo could only come up with so many excuses as to why he was always late without exposing the truth, desperate to protect you.

“I have to…” he started, but he didn’t finish the statement, didn’t want to say what exactly he’d have to do and thank the gods you never asked.

“I know” you sighed.

“I love you” he said, leaning forward to kiss you sincerely, his fingers brushing your jawline, taking one last piece of humanity and goodness with him.

“I love you more” you whispered as his form disappeared in front of you, leaving you alone.

Mattheo knew the moment he arrived that something was deeply deeply wrong.

He recognized his surroundings at once: the Riddle family manor. The halls echoed with a silence so familiar to him and his childhood it felt like his heart stopped beating so as not to make a sound. Besides silence, though, he also felt the other hallmark of his childhood: loneliness. He was alone; not one in a mistakable mix of followers that he could slip into undetected, he was home, and he was alone, and he felt an uneasiness, a sickness settle over him as the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise and he turned to see his father stepping out of the shadows.

“Twelve minutes” he said by way of greeting, avoiding Mattheo’s eyes as he approached him like a predator would its prey.

“Twelve minutes. From the time I summoned you, until now. What, pray tell, was so pressing, so urgent as to cause your delay?”

Mattheo’s mind swept quickly over the image of you in his bed, your hair splayed on his pillow, the smile on your lips and your soft whisper as he’d apparated, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

“S’early” he said, kicking himself for how his voice waivered in its reply.

Voldemort nodded in mock understanding, like he was considering this, drawing out the silence between them, painfully so.

“So not only are you late, but you are also lying” he said, emphasizing the last word, spitting it like a hiss, his black eyes snapping to Mattheo’s in way that caused him to jolt in reply, an automatic defense mechanism against the only living being capable of scaring him as Voldemort stormed towards him, entering his personal space as his voice rose.

“Do you remember what happened to Alexei Donovan when he lied to me?” he asked.

Mattheo’s eyes shifted between his fathers, swallowing, vividly remembering watching Nagini devour Donovan limb from limb.

“ANSWER ME!” his voice boomed.

“Y-y-yeah” he stuttered.

“Yes, my Lord” Voldemort corrected him.

“Yes, my Lord” Mattheo repeated.

And then Voldemort’s tone changed completely, as he took a step back and a smile spread across his inhuman face, which was somehow more disturbing than the alternative.

“But I am a merciful Lord, aren’t I?” he asked, his head cocked, daring Mattheo to disagree.

“Yes, my Lord” he said.

Voldemort nodded in approval.

“Yes, I am. And what a relief that must be to Ms. YLN at this very moment, hmm?” he asked, his eyes clocking Mattheo’s reaction as the blood drained from his face, his eyes blew wide and his shaking hand reached for his wand.

You watched the empty space where Mattheo had apparated like he might change his mind and come back, perhaps willing him to, before you laid back down, settling for his lingering warmth and his smell against the sheets when you heard footsteps outside the door.

You sat up, excited...naive you would think later, so fucking naive with the hope that he had returned, only to feel the blast of the door getting blown off of its hinges as you moved to cover your face from the flying debris.

Mattheo was breathing erratically, his chest visibly rising and falling with pure, unadulterated rage mixed with a fear so palpable it was like he could taste it on his tongue. He was desperately trying to rein in his emotions and failing miserably as his mind catapulted over every worst case scenario.

He spoke, finally, conjuring the only thing he could think to say as his brain continued in overdrive.

"Don't" he said firmly, threateningly, his voice level for the first time that morning.

His father smiled broadly without an ounce of kindness behind his eyes as they narrowed.

"You never learn… What did I tell you? What have I always told you? This—" he said, gesturing to Mattheo's body shaking in fight or flight mode "—is weakness. Look at you!" he said with disgust, with disdain, "You're worthless. You can't decide what to you, your mind is divided when it should be focused; you're thinking of her when you should be thinking only of yourself!"

Mattheo heard every word he was saying, but all he could think about was you, about how to get back to you, how to stop whatever had already begun; but it was like chasing a train on foot that had long since left the station, no matter how badly he wanted to jump in front of it, it was far too late.

"So, one question remains" Voldemort said, circling him again. "You...Or her?" he asked, sneering.

Mattheo's eyes flicked darkly to his father. "Me or her what?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Surely you understand that I can't allow this relationship to continue with the way it's destroying you, and while the Carrows provided me with a lengthy list of ways we could enforce that" he said, smiling, letting the threat of his most devoted followers linger. "I have something much simpler in mind." He stopped pacing, snapping to face Mattheo fully, his robes flourishing around him.

"I will have your memories" he said proudly. "And one of you will forget their feelings for the other... forever" he whispered as Mattheo felt weak in his knees, like they'd buckle beneath the weight of what had been said.

"So, whose will it be?" Voldemort asked.

You felt excruciating pain in every limb, every tendon, every bone, and when you opened your mouth to scream, the Carrows took your words.

All you could do was watch them through the tears that poured out of your eyes in your silent struggle, willing, praying for Mattheo to come back, pleading with him in your mind; please, please, please you thought even as you felt your resolve and strength waning.

Mattheo's mouth had run dry and there was bile in the back of his throat at the impossible decision before him: Either forget the brightest light in his life, perhaps the only thing keeping him steady in an ever-spiraling world, forget the way your skin felt under his fingertips, the smell of your shampoo, how tightly you squeezed him when he hugged you, or the sound of your laugh, the way you listened sincerely to him with your full attention or rubbed his back when he couldn't sleep; forget the only and most sincere feeling of love he’d ever experienced.

Or worse, meet your eyes and not see a light behind them, the way they'd twinkle with adoration for him, watch you forget him completely and live life instead as your friend, a bystander, maybe even watch you fall in love with someone else... His stomach lurched.

...But in a way, isn't that what you deserved? To live a life free of all of this, free of him and the pain he caused you, constantly, every time he had to leave, every time he had to live this second life. You were meant for more than this, you deserved to be loved by someone who could give you everything in return.

"Hers" he spluttered. "Take her memories" he said quickly before he could change his mind.

Voldemort nodded obligingly before waving a hand, dismissing him.

Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in your four-poster bed, a soft smile on your lips as you saw the morning sun just barely sneaking past the curtains in the window that fluttered gently in the autumn breeze, setting your bedroom in a deep golden hue.

Your limbs were heavy with sleep and you were settled warmly in your sheets. You felt refreshed, though you had the smallest echo of a headache that you attempted to rub away as you got ready for the day.

You made your way down to breakfast, settling in amongst your friends.

"Good morning!" you said cheerfully as you took your usual seat between Pansy and Blaise.

"Good morning, babes!" Pansy chirped as the boys nodded, waved, and greeted you in various acknowledgements. You grabbed a pastry and pressed closer to Blaise to help him with the crossword puzzle in the Daily Prophet. You were deeply focused on the black and white print when Mattheo wandered in, sliding onto the bench across from you. His movement caught your eye and you glanced at him and offered a small wave before returning your attention to the paper.

And that was all he got.

A glance, a smile that he tried to hold on to, to see if there was even a glimmer of recollection behind it. But there was nothing.

The spell was strong. It had tied up every lose end. Your things were gone from his room, your pictures together wiped clear by the time he returned, even your hair tie had disappeared from his wrist. And when he crawled into his bed, and realized your scent was gone from his sheets, he pulled his pillow over his head to mask his muffled sob.

Now not even his friends remembered your relationship, he realized, as he looked around at them, all totally unphased by the fact that you weren't glued to each other's side. At once he craved the way Theo complained incessantly about your PDA, and Blaise teased him for being whipped. He would give anything anything for something other than the complete ignorance in front of him.

He'd never felt so alone.

A few days later, you noticed Mattheo was...off. Even moreso than usual. You were used to him being standoffish, reserved, a total closed book, but you sensed something different about him. You had never been close, but something about his demeanor kept catching your attention.

"Are you okay?" you asked him that weekend at the Slytherin house party.

You'd had to raise your voice to be heard over the crowd and the loud music and his eyes snapped to yours, almost in shock, before they began intently searching your face.

You looked back at him, confused, waiting for a reply.

"M'fine" he said finally, taking a long drink from his cup in an effort to occupy hands that desperately wanted to pull you into him and lips that desperately wanted to tell you a truth that didn't exist anymore.

"Lighten up, Matty!" you said, gently shoving him on his chest as you walked away, and he nearly choked on his firewhiskey, because there was only one person in his life that had ever called him that, and it was you, beginning the night you'd first time told him you loved him.

He watched you walk away and fade back into the crowded party, wondering, daring to hope that there was a way to get you back.

After that night, Mattheo’s attention on you increased tenfold. The following morning he'd squeezed his way next to you at breakfast, nearly knocking Blaise off the bench as he slid you your favorite coffee.

"Oh!...Thank you?" you'd said, surprised as you peered over his shoulder at Blaise and then looked down at the latte. "How did you—?"

"—Can I walk you to class?" he asked eagerly, a smile on his face.

"Suuureeee" you said hesitantly.

Then, he wanted to walk you to every class, and he'd even offered to carry your books. It was kind, endearing even, but it felt misplaced, so out-of-the-blue that it caught you off guard and confused you.

"Mattheo, I really want to thank you for everything you've been doing for me" you said finally as you walked out of your potions class to find him waiting for your eagerly, like a puppy, a smile on his face. Your eyes shifted to the classmates that walked by, eyeing the two of you together. "I just want you to know, I'm not really looking for anything serious. We're friends, that would be a little...weird, you know?" you said gently.

A moment.

And then he felt a chasmic split in his heart that he didn’t think he’d live through once, let alone twice. It had never occurred to him that there was a world in which you wouldn’t fall madly in love with him again as your words brought a memory rushing forward...

"Is this going to be weird?—" you asked, breathless, until his lips cut you off again, crashing to yours as his hands pulled you further against him in the broom closet. "—Darling, I could not care less" he murmured against you, and you laughed as your fingers tangled into the curls at the base of his neck and he felt your tongue against his own. “Mmm our friends are going to lose their mind” you whispered, grinning wickedly at him.

"Matty?" you asked, concerned at the look on his face, pulling him out of the memory, even as he tried and failed to hold on to it.

His eyes refocused on yours as his face darkened.

"Why are you calling me that?" he asked abruptly, his eyes narrowing.

"What?" you asked, taken aback at his tone.

"Matty. Why are you calling me that?"

"I—" you started before looking up at him, confused, feeling the dull ache of one of your more frequently occurring headaches coming on. "I-I don't know" you said quickly, a blush rising to your cheeks as you pushed past him.

He turned and punched the wall forcefully, feeling his knuckles crack in response.

Weeks went by. Every second in your existence was a painful reminder of what he would never have again, and yet he refused to distance himself, desperate for your laugh even if was for someone else, your smile, even if he wasn't the one to put it there.

Sometimes he swore he saw the slightest recollection in your eyes; he'd catch you looking at him, and you'd smile when he caught your eye, but it was always friendly, never like the look you used to give him, with the glimmer of something sinfully mischievous beneath it that had the two of you tumbling into his bed between classes.

The whole situation was setting him on edge, making him more anxious and fidgety than he'd ever been. But, of course, no one seemed to notice, his friends either chalking it up to his normal idiosyncrasies or bewitched to ignore his unusual behavior.

Now he was staring at the book in his lap, reading the same line over and over and over again, his mind running ragged as you sat beside him. At this distance he could smell your perfume, could feel your warmth radiating next to him and his heart ached at your proximity.

He hadn't realized he was doing it at first, but his leg was jiggling incessantly between the two of you, his jitters working at the pace of his mind, his body's panicked response to being so tantalizingly close to you, so desperate for you and not being able to have you. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his leg, resting there gently as fingers began to trace a familiar pattern on his thigh, causing his jittering to slow along with his heart, which had now dropped into his stomach.

He glanced sidelong at you, afraid to move an inch, terrified that you would stop. He noticed you hadn’t broken your concentration on your book, perhaps hadn’t even realized you were touching him, it was like your body was moving on autopilot to comfort him in the very way you used to, tracing hearts on his thigh before nuzzling into him or pressing a warm kiss to his cheek.

He held his breath with the hope that this might mean something deeper, that there was a piece of you that remembered him as he closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the pattern of your fingers, the simple touch nearly bringing him to tears as he tried to let himself live in the memory of you.

You were right at the very best part of your book, the plot finally taking off, when you felt the familiar ache in your head that very quickly turned to a throbbing that brought you back to the present moment, and made you realize your hand had been resting on Mattheo’s thigh.

“Oh, gods!” you said suddenly, pulling your hand back quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” you started until you saw the pained expression on his face, his eyes closed, his head hung as his hand carded through his hair. Your headache was pounding in full now, enough to make you wince and touch your temple. His eyes fluttered open, looking at you with concern.

“YN—?”

“—S-Sorry!” you said quickly, gathering your things and beelining for your room.

“Have you noticed anything… different with Mattheo recently?” you asked Pansy that weekend.

You were laying on your stomach on your bed, flipping casually through a magazine as she sat next to you, admiring her nails as she painted them a deep emerald.

You’d tried to ask as nonchalantly as you could, but she looked up at you with an eyebrow raised in question.

“I don’t know he’s been so… strange with me. He’s wanted to walk me to class, and carry my books, he wants to hang out all the time and he somehow knew how I liked my latte…?” you trailed off, leaving out the way your hand had ghosted over him, the expression on his face, and your recurring headaches that didn't feel like a coincidence anymore, flaring up every time you were around him.

A moment passed but Pansy didn’t reply and when you looked at her you saw that her expression hadn’t changed; she was staring blankly at you, not saying a word, which was extraordinarily odd to put it mildly.

This was the type of gossip that would usually have her on her feet, screaming, spiraling, devising a messy plan to get two of her best friends together, but you were getting nothing in return, less than nothing.

“Pans?” you goaded, prompting a response.

Her head tilted slightly, abnormally in a way that was starting to creep you out as her blank stare continued and you slowly pulled yourself upright and away from her.

“Let it go” she said flatly. “You’re imagining things.”

You were taken aback and started to respond before she interrupted you.

“—I mean, you can’t think that he’s into you or something, do you? He would never go for you… what would he see in you? What could you possibly have to offer the Dark Lord’s son YN? He’s got girls lined up out the door for him.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as you sat up fully now. Never once in your almost ten years of friendship had she ever said anything like that to you before. You were hurt, but you also couldn’t help but feel like something was very very wrong as fear fluttered in your heart at her dark words and unnatural expression.

Suddenly, your mind snapped black for a moment to another time you felt foreboding, felt fear in your bones, screaming silently with no one to hear you and you stumbled to your feet, wiping the tears from your eyes as your head throbbed so hard you were afraid you were going to be sick.

Pansy looked up at you, and smiled, unphased by the way you were shaking or swiping at your running mascara as she smiled. “Want to go to dinner babes?” she asked cheerful again, like she had forgotten everything she’d just said to you.

“I-I’ve got to go” you said quickly, as you made your way for the door, desperate to find the person you sensed was responsible for this all.

You made your way to the common room in slow motion, like one of those dreams where you’re running but not actually going anywhere. You felt flushed and feverish as your body began to tremble and the room felt like it was distorting itself. You looked around frantically and found Mattheo walking in your group of friends on their way to dinner.

“YN!” Blaise cheered, noticing you approach as Draco and Theo turned in concert, smiling widely at you with uncannily happy expressions.

But the minute Mattheo’s eyes landed on you, his smile dropped to concern and he quickly approached you, closing the distance between you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, reaching for you before pulling his hands back awkwardly.

“Can I talk to you?” you winced as your headache intensified “Please?”

“Yeah, of course” he said eagerly, motioning to his friends, “I’ll catch up with you” he said, nearly ignoring them completely as he led you back towards their now empty room.

He shut the door behind you both and you swayed on your feet before moving between the four poster beds and sitting on the edge of his.

There were five identical beds in the room and he tried not to read too much into the fact that you’d known which was his, even though in this reality you’d never been here. And then he tried to calm the erratic beating of his heart of you being here, alone with him, in his room, shaking the thought from his mind quickly as he took in the pained look on your face, your eyes pinched closed as you rubbed your temple

He came quickly to you, kneeling in front of you, moving to place his hands on your legs and pulling back, never knowing what the fuck to do with them anymore around you.

“What’s going on—” he started.

“—What did you do to me?” you whispered harshly, your eyes fluttering open, your face scrunched angrily in accusation.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Mattheo, something is very very wrong, and you can’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

He stopped breathing. It couldn’t be.

“Our friends aren’t normal, people around us aren’t normal, and I feel like my insides are on fucking fire” you said, grimacing. “And it only happens when I’m around you. I’m not an idiot, Mattheo, is this because I turned you down?”

For his part he looked like he was about to cry, he didn’t look threatening or guilty, just enormously sad as he looked up at you with his amber eyes and your headache split to a nearly debilitating degree and tears flowed from your eyes in pain.

“My head” you said in a muffled sob.

You felt his warm hands rest on your legs, the first time he’d let himself touch you in months and you felt another flash in your mind, him smiling down at you with a lopsided grin in a way you’d never seen him look at you before, with adoration, with longing, with love, but it didn’t feel weird this time, it felt normal, so familiar…

“YN?” he whispered and your eyes fluttered open to see his transfixed on you, scanning your every feature, his expression full of concern. “Please hear me when I say I would never ever hurt you.” A lie he realized too late as he looked at you now.

“I-I know that?” you said shakily. “Somehow I know that but I don’t know how else to explain this or how I’m feeling” you said, sniffling.

“Fuck!” he muttered in frustration as he stood up and started pacing, running his fingers through his hair. He was certain that something was happening and yet he had no idea how to help you, the image of you crying in pain on his bed making him physically ill.

You sniffed again and said the next sentence so softly he swore he'd dreamt it.

“You have a scar on your shoulder, here” you said, gesturing over your own shoulder blade, tracing the same pattern of the raised skin on his back.

“You take your tea with milk and two sugars” your voice wobbled but was gaining strength as you kept speaking and he turned to look at you.

“You write left-handed but play quidditch right handed.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, words tumbling from your mouth now, like a broken dam.

“You always wanted a dog growing up and if you’d had one you would have named him—"

“—Zoryn” you said simultaneously. He moved to approach you, crouching in front of you again as he stared at you in awe, unable to believe what was going on.

Your eyes opened at his voice.

“After my favorite quidditch player” he said. “YN you’re the only person who knows that.”

“Why do I know these things?” you asked, pained.

He opened us mouth but nothing came out.

“Matty” you were practically beginning him to help you understand but he was too scared to be wrong, too scared to tell you the truth.

“...I’m the only one that calls you that” you whispered, and he nodded encouragingly.

“Yeah, you are” he said quietly, gently.

You reached out tentatively, your hand trembling and touched his cheek and he let his head fall against the palm of your hand, nuzzling into you as his eyes fluttered closed. You sniffed again.

“It’s okay, love, I’m here” he said tenderly.

“B-But you weren’t there” you said, breathing heavily all of a sudden, panicked. “I-I was scared and I wanted you there and you weren’t there…” and just like that your eyes blinked to his and memories came like an avalanche as you stood and he rose his feet beside you.

The first time he kissed you, the feeling of his warm palm in yours, tangling your fingers in his curls, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest in bed, the way he’d pull you onto his lap at breakfast and everyone would moan about it, him nuzzling into your neck, his arms around your waist and his hand at the small of your back in the corridor between classes. His lopsided grin as his amber eyes twinkled down at you and he whispered “Gods, I’m crazy about you, darling”

“I remember! I remember!” you said finally looking up at the real Mattheo standing in front of you, his face somewhere between sheer panic and shock and suddenly the inches between you were too much as you flew into his arms, wrapping yourself around him as he lifted you off the ground.

“Fuck baby” he said as you felt him shaking beneath you. “I’m sorry I’m so fucking sorry. He made me. M-made me choose, your memories or mine and—“ he choked up as hand came to rest on the back of your head, holding you closer to him “—I didn’t want you to live a moment in any reality thinking I didn’t love you.”

“It’s okay, Matty, it’s okay” you murmured against him, clinging to him, to the moment.

“None of this is okay” he said back.

“It’s ok now” you reassured him.

He made to pull back but you squeezed him tighter, afraid.

“I don’t want to forget” you mumbled into his neck.

“You’re not going to” he said through a laugh, the first time the sound had left his lips in months.

“Let me guess” you sniffed against him, fighting the knowing smile on your lips, “because you’re unforgettable” you grumbled at his cocky humor.

“Well, yeah” he said, laughing genuinely now, even as you pinched him.

“But more importantly—” he said as he took a step forward to lay you down on his bed so he could look at you, could finally see the sparkle of recognition in your eyes that he had been craving. You were looking back at him like you were committing his every feature to memory, your stomach flipping at how beautiful he was, at how you could ever forget it, tracing the scar at his eyebrow, his flushed cheeks, his lips and noting the twinkle in his eyes.

“—You’re not going to forget because the most powerful wizard alive already tried to make you, and it didn’t fucking work.”

You smiled at him, resolutely. “I could never forget you.”

“That’s right, baby” he said as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours, lingering for just a moment, savoring it like it was the first time all over again.

taglist: @dustie-faerie, @urfavfrenchgrl, @darlingshecried, @thegoddessofnothingness, @kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @sectumsempraaa

[detective-wraith]

I blinked as I looked at him. He was crying. He should be laughing in my face, but he was crying. That’s new. I stood up and moved closer to him.

“This feels a bit weird to ask, since, well… I just shot you… but, are you doing ok?” As I said this, I attempted to sit next to him. I say “attempted” because the ground near him was currently 2.78x as soft as a mattress, and so what actually happened involves me falling flat on my face.

He sniffled, then looked up at me with a somewhat confused expression on his face. “You just shot me? Why?”

“Well, I was told you were going around breaking the Reality Warper treat… hold on one second. If you didn’t know I shot you, then why were you on the floor just now crying?” I was, hopefully understandably, a little annoyed. I had payed good money for that bullet.

He paused for a second, debating on whether or not to tell me. Finally, his shoulders slumped in resignation, and he muttered, “One of my friends died.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “You’re a reality warper, right? It seems like your friend being dead is a… fixable problem.” Even though most reality warpers couldn’t bring back the dead, this guy must be quite powerful based on the… less than normal bodies of my coworkers nearby. He should easily have the power to return people from the dead.

He was shaking his head now. “You mortals don’t understand. She made me promise her that I wouldn’t bring her back if she died.”

Once again, I was confused. “Ok, so break your promise. Easy peasy.”

He shook his head again. “I can’t! That’s simply not possible. As a reality bender, my promises are absolute. If I promise something, and it’s within my power to deliver on that promise, than that promise is no longer just a promise. It’s an absolute truth of the universe.” After saying this, He gave me a confused look. “For a task force dedicated to keeping us under control, you know shockingly little about us.”

I muttered something unimportant about government funding, and then thought through the problem. “I can’t just leave you here. Your tantrum about your friend has gotten 3 of our best agents killed. So here’s the way I see it: we need to find a way for you to feel better.”

He looked at me with a somewhat confused look. “You just mentioned how I can bring people back to life, and now you’re forgetting I can bring your agents back to life. Are you sure you aren’t brain damaged?” He waved his hand, and the 3 bodies near us started to reassemble themselves. While this was happening, his face began to loosen up, like a weight was being lifted from his mind.

“You try walking up to a murderer and asking them to perform CPR on their victims,” I muttered a little angrily. I then took a deep breath, and stated resolutely “if you can promise me you won’t kill or maim any more of my agents, I’ll be comfortable leaving.”

He thought for a second, then said “I promise that as long as your agents do not attack me, I will listen to what they have to say for at least 1 hour before deciding to attack them. Furthermore, I promise that if I choose not to attack someone, I will not make any attempt to track them down in the future, at least for as long as they are agents under your agency. This promise will last for as long as your agency wishes for it to last, or until at least half of those affected by it vote against it, whichever one is longer.” After saying that, he looked at me. “Sound fair to you?”

I thought through what he had promised, and nodded.

You've been sent out to defeat a powerful, reality bending god. All have died horrifically trying. And here you are in front of the crying god as they complain about how you just shot them.

[artdcnaldson]

you can probably tell all this shit is from me but i'm on something tonight and i'm too pussy to sign off with an emoji. anyway, thinking about bsf!artrick arguing over who fucks better and they look at you and who are you to say no to a purely Scientific Experiment. it's for the greater good! i need them to run a train on me. holy shit. them blindfolding you and making you guess who's fucking you and who's eating you out etc.

You’re so iconic I need you to know I worked on this to make it perfect for you and I hope you enjoy!!

But SIGHHHH Getting tied down to the headboard so you can’t cheat and feel for clues! So you’re blindfolded, tied, and completely susceptible to their whims. They’re trying to ignore how pretty you look, because this is simply to settle a disagreement, okay! This has nothing to do with how bad they’ve both fantasized about fucking you since they’ve known you!

It starts with their hands. You’ve never paid much attention to them before (you’re lying), but you swear you can feel the difference between them just by the touch. Patrick touches like he’s trying to stake a claim on your skin. His hands are rough from use— you can feel the rough scrape of callouses against tender skin as he gropes at your tits. Art’s touch is tender and intentional. A little softer (you know he keeps hand cream in his gym bag so his hands don’t crack and split like Patrick’s)— his hands trace along your body delicately, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

That’s easy, but it’s harder to think when it’s their mouths on your pussy, licking and teasing and fucking devouring. You squirm against the restraints, but firm hands hold you down in one spot. Art’s hands on your hips, Patrick’s fingers teasing at your entrance. Patrick’s mouth— fuck.

Patrick eats you out like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, and he very well could. It’s wet and messy and so, so desperate, like he’s got something to prove. He pulls back and spits your arousal back onto your cunt, and you’re sure there’s a puddle beneath you that’s a mix of spit and your juices. Your back arches off the bed as he hikes one of your thighs over his shoulder, bringing you impossibly closer. The sound of his fingers thrusting into your sopping pussy are so obscene that your cheeks burn— you’ve never been treated like this by anyone else before, but you like it. You like how hot and desirable he makes you feel. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks with just the right amount of pressure, and your thighs shake from the intensity of it all. You couldn’t have tried to hold off your orgasm if you wanted to— Patrick wanted you to cum, so he made you cum, with all the expertise of someone who’s eaten pussy countless times before.

Your cunt is still twitching with aftershocks when Art moves between your thighs and licks up all of the slick spit and cum from Patrick’s endeavors. It’s almost soothing, how his tongue traces the shape of you, like he’s committing the contours of your body to memory. He rubs at your thigh with his free hand, and uses his other hand to ease two fingers into your cunt. He doesn’t fuck you with his fingers the way patrick did, he lets your walls flutter around them, squeeze him tight. He moans at the feeling, at your taste. There’s something about the way that Art nuzzles against your pussy, his nose rubbing at your clit as he tastes you, that tells you he fucking loves it. Patrick is good at eating girls out, but Art lives for it. Your hips cant against his mouth, and Patrick makes no move to hold you down, Art wouldn’t have wanted him to. Art lets you buck against his tongue, his nose, cover his face in your juices. The noises he makes are so pornographic you’d think he was the one getting head. You’re so oversensitive that Art makes you cum like it’s no work at all, with teasing licks against your clit and pressure against your g-spot. He’s practically making out with your pussy as you come down, and finally relents with one final kiss to your twitching clit.

“I can’t—“ you gasp, chest heaving after having two orgasms in such a quick succession. “I just need a break, I need�� fuck, like a minute to catch my breath.”

“Yeah?” That’s Patrick’s voice, beside you. When he rubs a hand over your thigh you inhale a shaky breath. “You sure you wanna keep going?”

Then there’s Art’s hand, rubbing along your bicep and brushing hair from your face. “We can stop.”

You should feel exposed and vulnerable— tied up to your headboard with a silk scarf from your dresser, your entire body on display for your two best friends. Your entire body burns with need and desperation. You’ve wanted it for so long, and now that you’ve had it, how can you go back to the way things were before? How can you look at Patrick and Art when you know how their mouths and hands feel against your body? You can’t stop there— you can’t give up because what if they’re hit with clarity immediately after? What if you never get a chance again?

“Don’t wanna,” you say quickly. “Please don’t stop.”

If you weren’t blindfolded, you’d be able to see the pleased grins on their faces. They’ve wanted you like this for fucking months, and now there you are, all tied up, pretty, and dripping for them. Fuck tennis, this is one competition neither of them is willing to lose.

You feel them coax your thighs further apart, opening you up to them completely. You don’t have time to feel shy about how exposed you are, because one of them positions himself between your thighs, notching at your entrance.

In your attempts to identify which one it is, you rely on the few senses you can access. His breath hitches the second the head of his cock breaches your entrance, slipping into your wet warmth. A strangled gasp that you hear him struggle to silence. He’s positioned over you— you can smell sweet cologne and shampoo as he holds his body up and drives into your cunt. The brush of coarse hair against your clit, the feel of hairy thighs sandwiched between yours as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Patrick,” You pant out as soon as he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Of course it’s Patrick, staking his claim on your body first.

“Mhmm,” His breath is hot against your ear. “You’re so smart.” The condescending tone of his voice makes your stomach do a fucking somersault. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking tight. Pussy’s trying to suck me in, isn’t she? Feels that good, huh?”

Now you understand the revolving door of Patrick’s hookups, why girls put themselves through the Sisyphean cycle of pleasure and heartbreak over and over again for him. Just his words are enough to set your body on fire. All you manage in response is a pathetic nod, an involuntary arch of your back as he slowly pulls out of your cunt, then drives back in hard. The moan that spills from your lips is unlike any sound you’ve ever heard yourself make before.

“That’s it,” he coos. “Just take it, baby. You're fuckin' made for it.” And you are— at least, it really feels like it. You feel him reposition— sit back on his knees, grab you by your hips, and fuck into your cunt nice and deep. He fucks like he doesn’t care if you’re going to cum, which is clearly untrue, given how close you are already.

When your climax hits you, it’s like it’s being pulled from some hidden depth in you— ripped from the very core of your being. Your toes curl, your cunt grips him like a vise, so tight his rhythm falters. It’s dizzying, all consuming. Intense and short-lived, like most of his relationships. Still, he fucks you through overstimulation until he pulls out and cums onto your tummy.

“Go ahead, I broke her in for you.” Patrick sounds smug, and you hear the clap of skin on skin as he slaps a hand on Art’s shoulder.

It doesn’t feel much like an experiment anymore. Not when you know when Art climbs on top of you, when you feel soft kisses peppered along your jaw. That goddamn oral fixation.

He eases your thighs apart, spreads you out for him. Art’s thighs are smooth against yours. From a distance, he looks hairless, but you can feel the soft brush of fine hair again your own thighs.

A shaky gasp escapes you as his cock glides against your cunt. Slow ruts of his hips that coat his length in your arousal and judge his tip against your clit. You can feel your pussy dripping for him, that little tease of friction and pleasure.

Art’s loud. You can hear his soft little pants and moans as he humps against your cunt, until he can’t take it anymore. “‘M gonna put it in, okay?”

You nod and let him push in nice and slow. He groans and buries his head against your neck, and you’re conscious of the brush of soft curls against your skin, of his hot breath panting against you. “You feel so good, Jesus, fuck—“

He grinds his hips into you— nice and slow, so each movement sends pleasure sparking up your nerves. You can't help but wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging in to tug him closer, deeper.

You've kissed Art before— at parties during stupid games meant to play on raging hormones and pent up sexual desire. Bottles spun that land on him, smoke shotgunned into your mouth when you're both a little crossed and can't help yourselves. But it's different then, when he smashes his lips to yours, licking hungrily into your mouth. Better when he's fucking you nice and deep, his body pressed against yours.

Art Donaldson, ever the sweetheart, the gentleman that Patrick is not. His hand moves between your thighs to toy with your oversensitive clit until you mewl. If the blindfold was off, you'd be able to see the pleased smile he wore when you cried out for him.

"I've got you," he mumbles against your mouth. His forehead presses against yours, his nose nudging softly as he moves between soft kisses and open mouthed gasps of pleasure. He swallows up every sweet noise you give him, squeezes the plush of your thigh in the hand that isn’t rubbing over your clit. Your body tenses with pleasure, arching into him and he moans as you clench around him. “Fuck—“

You want the blindfold off. You want to see Art come apart, you want to know what Patrick’s doing while he watches. You want so much more than you have in that moment. And still, Art brings you to your finish like it’s easy, like every other guy hasn’t struggled to do it before him (well, besides Patrick). You’re spent, panting, oversensitive and yet you still feel a throb of need as Art jerks himself off over you.

With the blindfold on, all you can hear is the slick sounds of his hand pumping over his cock, his whiny moans, and then you feel the shock of warm ropes of cum landing on your skin, dripping down your sensitive, swollen cunt and pooling on the sheets.

It’s only then that the blindfold is pulled off, and you can see the mess they’ve made of you. Patrick’s cum dried and smeared over your stomach and Art’s abs, Art’s cum glazing your pussy. They untie your hands and you don’t even realize until then that they’re all tingly with lack of blood flow. Patrick rubs his thumbs into your palms, trying to soothe the ache as Art scrambles to find some way to clean you up. Sweet boys, even if they try to deny it.

“So which one of us—“ Patrick begins, before Art throws the towel he used to clean you up in his face. His expression twists in annoyance, but he knows better than to ask again. He’s fine keeping it a tie… for the time being, that is.