#if they don’t agree or even voice hope for something to spin the other way?

[revolution-or-riot]

literally cannot stand when people act like disliking taylor swift is some misogynistic act

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 TELLING THEM THEY'RE PRETTY!

FEATURING: dazai osamu, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: telling the bsd boys that they're pretty! (wordcount: 3.5k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i had cute dividers but this won't show up in the tags if use them D: ! i had sooo much fun with this! i hope you guys enjoy! :D

DAZAI OSAMU

You can’t seem to drag your gaze away from him. 

As a long day of work comes to an end, you rest your head on your arms and lean on your desk. Kunikida is still tapping furiously away at his computer, Tanizaki and Naomi are whispering about something together, Ranpo is sorting through his candy, and Atsushi and Kyouka are looking through files. But your eyes are tracing over Dazai Osamu as he leans back in his chair, lazily spinning and bobbing his head to the music he’s listening to. 

The setting sun casts an ethereal glow over him, his lips idly turned up and his lashes brushing his cheeks as rests his eyes waiting for the day to end. Dazai Osamu is pretty—you’ve always acknowledged that—but there’s something about the peace of this moment, the domesticity of the office and the ambience of the lighting that has you utterly enraptured.

He looks so at ease, and Dazai Osamu is never at ease. Even when he throws up that clownlike mask of his and spends his day entertaining under the guise of joy and humor, you can always see the strain in the corner of his eyes and lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible really—if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, much to his displeasure, because you know he hates how easily you can see right through him.

After a few minutes, Dazai peeks his eyes open—and you’re almost breathless, because his eyes are like melted honey beneath the sunset, warm and gentle, glittering with amusement. You think you can stare at him forever and never tire of it.

He rolls his chair closer to you, resting his forearms on your desk so that your arms are brushing and laying his head down on them so that his face is mere inches from yours, matching your position. There's a smile on his lips, soft and teasing as he whispers, "You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"Mhm," you agree, voice just as quiet as if to not disturb the tranquility of the office. You can feel his breath light against your face from the proximity he's laying at and you can smell peppermint on his breath from the candy you’d seen him swipe from Ranpo’s desk earlier when the other man had gone to speak to Fukuzawa.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks playfully, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for your response.

You can tease him back and say yes, as you usually do and is probably what he expects—and you fully intend to do just that but the words that leave your lips are not that. 

“You just look really pretty today,” you say softly, watching as his eyes widen just a bit at your words, pink dusting his cheeks. 

His lips part to say something but no words leave them. He opens and closes them a few times and you marvel because Dazai must know that he’s pretty from all of the attention he gets from women, so you don’t understand why he’s so thrown off hearing you voice it out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely speechless before now.

“So you don’t think i’m pretty every other day?” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out into an over-exaggerated pout, recovering swiftly from your words, though you expected nothing less from him. But you can’t help but note that his cheeks are still a bit pink and there’s something indecipherable in his eyes.

“Prettier than usual,” you amend and watch as the flush on his cheeks darkens and he instead resorts to completely burying his face in his arms with a frustrated groan.

“I am supposed to be the flirt, bella,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms as he hides his face from your view. He cannot hide the way his ears have gone bright red, and you have half a mind to reach out and tug at them

You lift your hand to your lips to hide the giggle that rises to your lips, scooching your chair a bit closer so you can knock your shoulder against his. 

“I’m not flirting,” you say. “Just stating a fact.”

He turns his head to the side, just enough so that he can give you a heavy side eye—you can only barely see the red hue coating his cheekbone. 

“Not mutually exclusive,” he says grumpily, and you lean down to press your lips against his now exposed forehead, smiling softly as his eyes instinctively flutter shut and his body relaxes as the touch.

Then, you receive a pencil to the side of your head. You yelp as your hand flies to where it had made contact with you, scowling at your assailant who is none other than Ranpo, smiling widely as he waves at you and then motions to Kunikida, who is red faced and staring at the two of you. You can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.

“Not during work hours,” he snaps, and you realize that he’s definitely embarrassed, so you share a short look with Dazai, who has regained that mischievous look in his eyes as he glances over at Kunikida and back at you.

Without saying a word, or giving any other sort of warning, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short and chaste kiss, but his lips are soft and taste of candy, and you think you might be able to kiss them forever if you get the chance.

Now you’re the one flustered, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at Dazai, who is evidently thoroughly pleased to not be the one uncomposed if the unscrupulous grin on his lips has anything to say about it.

He tosses you a wink before rolling his chair back over to his desk, animatedly complaining about Ranpo and Kunikida being lonely and bitter and getting in the way of Dazai’s chance at true love because of it—you only roll your eyes at his dramatics, as you usually do when Dazai goes off on tangents, but it’s with much more fondness this time. 

•••

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

You are not listening to a single word that he’s saying. 

It’s a dangerous situation to be in with Fyodor Dostoevsky, you’re sure he’s noticed by now and he will be petty enough to finish his brief about his plans and your involvement and then ask you to repeat what he said, but you just can’t focus. 

He tied his hair back, you note, still quite a bit awed by the sight. There are two locks framing his face and his bangs are falling between his eyes, but the rest of his hair, which has grown a bit long in the weeks that he’s been ardently preparing for the final stages of his plan, is pulled back into a lax bun. 

He looks so casual, and Fyodor Dostoevsky never looks casual. He’s dressed in a turtleneck and loose pants as he leans back in his chair. There’s a folder resting on his lap that he’s idly flipping through and he keeps glancing up at you occasionally, pale lips flat and violet eyes disapproving, but you just nod along to his words even though you know that he knows that you’re not paying attention. 

And you think, distantly, that you probably should be paying attention because he’s talking about your upcoming mission and what you should expect from it but you figure you’ll be fine—it’s a simple infiltration mission, nothing to worry about. And you’d much rather prefer to appreciate Fyodor’s rare repose than to listen him droll on about boring topics. 

Sometimes, you think if he just kept his mouth shut all the time, he’d be perfect. But you think you’d miss his sharp-witted comments and the lengthy debates the two of you have after a few glasses of wine.

He looks extra pretty tonight, even beyond the casual hairstyle and clothes and his uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor, and you think it’s because of the way the flames of the fireplace are casting an enchanting orange and red glow over his face. It makes the violets of his eyes burn alive in a way that they usually don’t, you’re far too used to the glacial visage they take whenever he puts his attention on someone. Every time he glances up at you, you swear that you can get lost in them.

“… And you are not listening to a word that I am saying, are you?” 

Fyodor is giving you the heaviest side eye as he finally calls you out, expression unamused. His brows are furrowed and his pale skin is taut with thinly veiled irritation.

“Of course, I am,” you dismiss, waving your hand. “Infiltration mission, detective agency, get close to the tiger boy.”

Fyodor looks distinctly unimpressed by your words, brows deepening—you figure you must have spoken wrongly, you probably shouldn’t have been so indifferent, and you bite back a sigh before reaching forward to press two fingers between Fyodor’s eyebrows, as if to forcibly smooth away his annoyance.

He blinks and draws back, out of reach of your arm, and then casts you an even more irritable look.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accuses. “This mission will be dangerous, you’ll be at risk of being exposed every moment you are in the agency and if you are exposed-“

“Your plans will be ruined,” you finish, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. “I kno-“

“You could be killed,” Fyodor corrected, voice cold and sharp, and you look back over to him. He looks unusually intense, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the appearance that the flames of the fireplace are giving him as they flicker dangerously across his face or if it’s because he’s that displeased with you being distracted. Either way, you find your mind drifting again because wow. “Dazai Osamu is not a man to be taken lightly. When he manages to figure out who you are and what you’re doing, we will need an immediate extraction plan.”

“Careful, Fyodor,” you drawl, watching as his violet eyes narrow briefly, “almost sounds like you care.”

Fyodor’s lips twist but he doesn’t respond. You raise your eyebrows, he looks away. Your eyes shoot open.

“You have a bigger role to play,” Fyodor finally says, but he’s no longer looking at you. “You cannot be killed yet.”

“Yet,” you repeat, amused. Fyodor’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the fireplace to the side of the two of you and you can vaguely see the flames reflecting in his eyes, burning ardently against the familiar violet.

You lean forward again, shifting off of the couch to sit on the coffee table between the two of you so you can reach him. You reach forward to brush your knuckles against his cheek—he doesn’t move away this time, but his eyes cut to the side to watch you carefully.

You don’t say anything for a moment, absently tucking one of the locks of hair framing his face behind his ear. His hair is soft, freshly washed—for once—it smells faintly of lavender and vanilla and you wonder if he stole your conditioner.

“You look very pretty tonight, Fyodor,” you say quietly, and then smile. “It’s hard to focus when you look like this.”

The expression Fyodor directs toward you is extraordinarily blank, except for the faintest specks of pink that glare compared to the pallor of his face. 

He shakes his head, looking away from you yet again. 

“… You cause me much suffering,” he murmurs, and somehow, you know that might be the closest you might get to an admission of love from Fyodor Dostoevsky.

You smile to yourself. “And you to I,” you say, voice a bit teasing, and then you add, “Now, can you tell me again what to look out for?”

The moment is ruined. Fyodor’s eye twitches and he’s giving you that unamused look again, and you think having him repeat himself might be a mistake because now you’re even more distracted, but Fyodor sighs and starts on his lecture again so you force yourself to listen.

It takes about three minutes for him to release a sigh of utter suffering when he realizes that your eyes have glazed over yet again. 

•••

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Nikolai has a wild sort of beauty about him. He’s unpredictable and dangerous, and it’s widely apparent in his frenzied laughter and chaotic behavior. His eye glitters and his teeth gleam sharply beneath the glow of the moonlight as he waves his hands around, animatedly describing to you all of the details of the things he’s been doing while you were away. 

Fyodor’s masterplan has involved Nikolai apparently taken upon an infiltration role at the ministry of defense—you think it’s a bold move for Fyodor to use Nikolai for such a tenuous mission, but he’s apparently been having the time of his life with it. Though he thinks his boss is deplorable and one of his coworkers has evidently pissed him off beyond repair, because now he’s telling you about how he’s been ‘pranking’ the man in righteous vengeance. 

You think Nikolai’s idea of pranking varies from yours, because you’re pretty sure him using his ability to break into the man’s house constitutes a crime not a prank. But you don’t have it in you to make that distinction when he’s so excitedly telling you about how every day he’s been going into his house to move around all of his stuff and hide some of his belongings to make the man squirm. He’s succeeding outstandingly in his ambition, if the videos he’s waving in front of you have anything to say about it. 

You watch as he frantically scrolls to the next video—“this one is the best,” he claims, as he has for every video thus far. You watch with an amused smile as his dark-haired coworker steps into his apartment and nearly starts crying when he realizes that all of his stuff has been moved again, scrambling for his phone to call the police, who have—according to Nikolai—apparently already told him multiple times that there’s nothing they can do about it. The video is shaking wildly, as if the person filming can barely hold the camera straight, and you’re convinced that’s exactly what it is because you can hear Nikolai’s muffled laughter coming from recording.

Nikolai naturally finds it much funnier than you do, half-way keeling over as he wheezes, his laughter shattering the peaceful night. The two of you are sitting at a park near the apartment that Fyodor had leased for you for the duration of the Yokohama operation. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bewitching glow over the lake in front of you and there’s a chill in the air—it’s a nice night all around, you think there will probably some frost dusting the grass in the morning but the cold hardly bothers you now with Nikolai pressed to your side as he laughs himself into a near-coughing fit over his harassment of his coworker. 

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai suddenly complains loudly, scowling at you, but even then he keeps having to bite back residual laughter whenever he glances back down at his phone. “It’s funny.”

“It is funny,” you agree. Nikolai gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you. “It is.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai accuses doubtfully, and then adds, even more accusatory, “You hate me.”

You’re not sure why you aren’t laughing, honestly. Usually you’d be burying your face into his shoulder trying to smother your snickers, because even though you might not entirely agree with Nikolai’s idea of a prank, you can still find some humor in it. Because it is kind of funny. Kind of. 

But then you realize that you’re probably not laughing because you’ve been spending most of the night admiring Nikolai rather than listening to him prattle on about his escapades and watching his poorly recorded videos, so you can’t fully appreciate the humor in the videos. With his cheeks flushed from copious amounts of laughter and his eyes glowing with excitement, you think he’s very pretty tonight—Nikolai is always pretty, but the angle at which he’s sitting leaves the moon haloing behind his head, and maybe it’s just because you’ve missed him the past few weeks when you’ve been abroad dealing with a territory dispute with Tolstoy, but you think there’s something special about tonight. 

“I don’t hate you. I guess I’ve been too busy admiring you,” you finally say, a playful smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. “You look pretty tonight.”

Nikolai blinks, eyes wide and owlish as he processes your words. The longer he goes unresponsive, you acknowledge that a quiet Nikolai is far more unnerving than a loud and erratic Nikolai, you’d expected a more… theatrical response to your comment. A swish of his cape, him leaping to his feet with a twirl and an agreement, even just a wild laugh; instead, he looks away abruptly. He doesn’t even just look away, he physically turns his whole body away from you. 

You blink.

“Nikolai?” you ask, a bit astonished when he literally ignores you. You lean forward, trying to get a look at his face, but then he swivels around even more and your lips part in shock. “Nikolai.”

You’re only met with a face full of his soft white hair, impeccably braided, as per usual—you have half a mind to tug at it hard to try to get a response from him, but you aren’t in the mood for the lewd comment that would likely spill from his lips after. 

“Koly-“

“Poor me, poor me,” Nikolai suddenly cries loudly, “The little koshenya mocks me when all I do is try to make her laugh. Poor me, poor me.”

His hand flies to his face, melodramatic as he bemoans your alleged cruelty. You stare at him, mind trying to piece together what exactly is happening—Nikolai is always hard to predict, but you feel like this is a bit strange even for him, and that’s saying something. 

“… What?” you start to ask but Nikolai has thrown himself into a loud and theatrical tirade about how he doesn’t deserve such injustice and how he was only trying to make you laugh, and how it’s so, so cold-hearted of you to taunt him when this is the first time the two of you have seen each other in weeks. 

Nikolai is impossible to bargain with when he gets like this, so you only sigh and tilt your head up to the sky, his words flying in one ear and out the other as you wait for him to settle down on his own. 

Instead, you swear the world is against you because rather than settling down, he becomes increasingly more noisy and distressed, and his accusations become even more asinine. Now, he’s saying that you’ve always had it out for him and how you weren’t laughing at his jokes because you hate him and want to report him to the police and how he should tell Dostoy about your betrayal, or better yet, he should stuff you in his cloak and leave you there?

You side-eye Nikolai heavily as he continues on, slightly alarmed, but brush off the casual threat as just Nikolai being Nikolai. You don’t know how to shut him up, you think you might be out here all night listening to him, and now you’re the one bemoaning your fate because how did a simple compliment turn into this. 

Finally, an idea strikes. 

You brace yourself, questioning your sanity and your entire existence before you interrupt him with a loud, “Quiz time!”

Nikolai goes silent instantly, head snapping toward you, eye even wider than before. 

You think you’ve hit an all time low as you say, “Was I trying to mock you before?” Nikolai opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can. “What’s that you say? I wasn’t? Ding ding! We’ve gotta winner!” 

You think Nikolai might be having an internal crisis. He’s staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time in his life—his lips are parted, his eye void of the usual mischief dancing in it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. 

You let out a long breath as you go to speak up again, but before you can, his eye is glittering again, sharp and dangerous, and his lips are curving up into a slow smile. 

Nikolai inhales and then he takes a complete one-eighty as he bursts into loud cackles and says, “Ahahaha! I knew you loved me!” as if he wasn’t just lamenting your irrational hatred for him moments before.

Your eye twitches. He begins a second tirade, this one far more embarrassing for you than the last. 

You regret everything.

[coryosbaby]

Content warning . Noncon, Tbosas spoilers!! Plinth! Reader, angst angst angst, nsfw

When you read Coriolanus Snow’s diary entry from the day of Sejanus Plinth’s death, you are betrayed exponentially.

One would think that a clever man like Coriolanus would be smart enough to not note his secrets and leave the journal unlocked. Especially since his best friend with a curious hand was left alone in his room. How dumb he was.

When he walks in, your heart breaks into a million jagged pieces. Your best friend, your coryo, is the reason why your brother is dead.

He notices the book in your hand the moment he enters the room. He moves towards you, you step back. You don’t even know who the blonde in front of you is.

“You’re a monster.”

It’s the first thing you say to him, and the faux sympathy on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Coriolanus can never hide his true emotions because of those familiar turquoise orbs.

“[y/n].”

His voice is a warning, you think. A warning that you have to keep this a secret. His voice is a threat.

But the betrayal and the loss deep in your heart cuts through and your face twists up with rage.

“You killed him. You, you—“ you can’t find the words to express your anger, so your fists come up to pummel Coriolanus’ chest as tears stream down your cheeks. Muffled cries soon give way to screaming sobs, and Coriolanus tries to calm you.

“Shhh, shhh,” he coos, his hands wrapping around your form, and you wonder how he has the audacity to try and comfort you after being the cause of your brother’s death.

“What is wrong with you?!” You scream at him. “Why would you— why would you do that? He was your friend! Do you realize what you’ve done ? H-He never did anything wrong. He was innocent— he— he—”

You can’t say anything else, exasperated and torn into pieces and Coriolanus just holds you, and as much as you fucking despise him, you let him commit this act. You can’t see any type of pain written on his face— remorse, guilt, melancholy. Nothing. Just a blatant, ashy emptiness. A hollow void of Coryo. Your Coryo.

There are no remnants left.

You try to pull away from him, but he places a grip on your wrist so tight that you fear it will break. His jaw clenches, breath uneven and his clothes haphazardly strewn.

“No.” He says, and that’s it. No.

Your brows furrow, your bottom lip wobbling.

“What?”

And then he’s kissing you, something he hasn’t done since a slightly non friendly game of spin the bottle in freshman year. He kisses you harsh and, like his heart and the expression on his face, stone cold. You try to push him away, but to no avail as his hands grab your hips in a deathly grip. You cry against his lips, saltwater tears mixing with breath mints and spit, and you wish that Sejanus was next door waiting on the two of you for morning classes and that this happened under different circumstances.

But it doesn’t, and you don’t want to think about it right now, not at all. So when your knees hit the back of Coriolanus’ bed, you let him push you down onto it. You let him trail kisses down your neck and bite you until you bleed. And when the time comes, and his cock is to full hardness and you’re overcome with more lust than grief, you hope that Sejanus can’t see you from above.

Coriolanus’ teeth scrape against your lips, and your blouse becomes ripped open by the sheer force of his hands. His mouth attaches to one nipple, then the other. He leaves love bites all over your chest and then he spits down on the valley in between them. He groans, heavy and deep, his clothed cock slipping between your thighs as he grips your tits in his hands.

“Mine.” He says possessively. Evilly. Like a monster. And you agree with him, a sob racking your throat, scared and helpless.

“Yours, Coryo.”

You are his, but he isn’t yours. He isn’t the one you’ve grown with. He isn’t the one you fell in love with.

You let him slide your panties down your legs anyways.

His fingers find your entrance, and they slide in easily. Your warm wet walls are tight, and he puts two fingers in as a way to make it hurt. He moves them in and out at a fast rough pace, the wet sounds of your pussy making you feel incredibly guilty and incredibly turned on. His mouth finds your neck again, burying his face into your collarbone. Your fingers find his buzzed hair— not your Coryo’s familiar golden curls — and you whimper. His fingers crook up, hitting the spots no man has ever been able to reach before. His thumb—oh god, his thumb— moves up to rub your aching clit in fast circles. How could he possibly know you like it that way?

Your thighs try to squeeze around the man’s large hand, but he slaps them, and he slaps them hard. You cry out, spewing apologies to him and you don’t even know why you’re saying sorry. You can feel yourself fast approaching your high, and you know Coriolanus can feel it too. He laughs, a dark and sinister sound, and you come undone. Your body spasms, your mouth falling open and a loud pleasured moan escaping you. Coryo’s fingers pull out of you, coated in your cum and slick, and he presses the pads of them onto your tongue.

“Good girl,” he mutters, as your doe eyes look up at him and suck. “There’s my good little girl.”

When he pulls the digits out he rubs the spit from them onto your chest. His cock rubs against your pussy again.

“You want it, don’t you?” He says darkly, watching the way your hips grind into him. “Don’t worry. You won’t be sad after I give you my kids, pretty baby. You’ll be so happy. You’ll forget about Sejanus, and you’ll love me.”

The mention of your brother’s name makes your stomach drop. But Coriolanus’ fingers grip your face harshly when he sees the tears welling in your eyes, his face twisted up into a look of anger.

“Stop it.”

You have to sniffle and obey. When Coriolanus’ hands go down to his belt, you feel pathetic for wanting it. When he takes off all of his clothes, naked and bare with his cock hanging thick and heavy between his legs, you feel ashamed. When he spreads your thighs and says he’s going to give you a baby, you feel true fear.

But when the tip of his cockhead brushes against your entrance, all of that is replaced with carnal pleasure.

Surprisingly, he pushes in slow at first. Your gummy walls squeeze him in an almost impossibly tight grip, and Coryo has to stop and keep himself from hurting you too soon. When his balls press firmly against your ass cheeks for the third time, all heavy and plump, he begins to pummel you.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. He fucks you and he fucks you with an animalistic stare plastered across his angelic face. He grabs your thighs and pushes them over your head, and he claims you with your body bent in half. He gives all of himself to you, but he isn’t yours.

When you try to close your eyes and look away from him, he growls. His free hand moves up to take hold of your throat and for a moment you think you’re going to meet your brother’s fate. His fingers squeeze so tightly that your vision blurs at the edges, your breaths coming out in slow, weak intervals.

“Look at me.” Coriolanus demands. “Look at me!”

You let out a cry, your eyes flying open and looking back into insidious, icy blue ones. His bottom lip gets caught in between his teeth as he sees you, and his cock twitches inside your sticky cunt. You know he’s going to cum, and you feel pathetic. When he does cum, spilling thick white ropes into your womb, you feel ashamed. And afterwards, sleeping off your brutal and disgusting session with your best friend and brother’s killer, you feel true fear.

[daddyricsdoll]

Hate but I love you too ✭ Ollie Bearman

Summary: From when he ignored you then nearly kissed your lips. Or never said sorry to begging for you. Oliver was a rollercoaster of emotions and it's safe to say- It took hate to love him.

Warnings: Unprotected sex.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: Based off of a request. I'm sorry it took a while, quite a few things happened, but I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading this too! (did change a few things)

“Hey Ollie” I smile at him as we walk toward our karts that sit only metres away from the other. “What do you want?” He turns his head toward me with furrowed brows. “Oh, I-um just came to say hi and good luck.” I try my best to keep a smile on my face as he grimaces. “Ok then, thanks I guess.” He mumbles under his breath before quickening his pace and rushing to his kart. 

It did hurt to watch him leave because of me, but it wasn’t the first time and it never made me stop from approaching him again. And just like the first time, it happened the next, he would always find a way out, but I found another in. I had questioned his actions and dislike toward me, but never got the answer, or maybe the one I was looking for at least. So after setting the goal of speaking to him every time we were in the same premises, I eventually lost it. Moving up into F4 and giving him a smile, then F3 and little glares. 

F3 was an interesting time, it was when we started to only focus on racing, relationships later, whether it was friendships or romantically, we could all agree we had some struggles. And then came the part I thought would be my happy ending, but U-turned straight out. 

But then came a experience for all of us drivers to experience what a lot of kids our age do. So then came a party with nearly all the drivers on the grid, hosted by a driver, so you could expect it to be on the spectrum toward chaotic. It happened to start light, small talk and grabbing another drink, before people loosened up and with that came party games. The truth or dare and spin the bottle. 

My hand lightly shook as I grabbed the bottle in hand, trying to estimate which person it would point toward. Hoping it would be the British boy that sat across from me, and this time he wouldn't walk away. 

Everyone's eyes stuck on the bottle and when it pointed in between two people I looked up to see it was Ollie and Jak. Everyone started shouting out their opinions of who it shall be before they all voted, and it was Ollie. I watched many emotions cross his face as we both leant forward and our lips inched closer to the other.

I stopped moving, waiting for him to make the next move, his lips were so close that I could feel his breath against my skin and I closed my eyes as I waited for him to close the gap. My lips curled into a smile as I was sure I would finally feel him. But instead of his lips ultimately against mine, I felt cold as I lost his presence and then his voice that refused to kiss me. “I can’t kiss her, we’re both rivals and it might ruin the race tomorrow.”

I don’t say anything, but sit back in the circle, at long last, accepting my defeat. I watched as some conflict arose, people telling Ollie it’s just a game and it doesn’t mean anything, but then he fought back claiming he wouldn’t kiss anyone in the circle, and then the game ended. 

I found somewhere to sit in sorrow but also bliss, at how close his lips came to mine, but then how he left. I was alone for a short while before Arthur Leclerc approached me. He wasn’t even part of F3 this year but said “I could never miss out on a party.” and then sat beside me while enlightening me with his jokes and bad english. From there me and Arthur became close, while the tension between me and Ollie grew. I secretly schemed ways in my head to get Ollie back, make him feel the way I felt, make him regret something or tempt him with something, make it come so close then take it from him. There was no denying I wanted that thing to be me, and that’s what held my plan back. 

The next year we both were signed into teams on the F2 grid, he had the opportunity to be with Prema racing and me with ART grand prix. 

After Jeddah, our rivalry started to grow realising we were the top two drivers fighting for the win each race, me getting the victory first and him second. Then came up Australia, a track we were all new to, but it didn’t mean we wouldn’t try as hard. 

I led the race with Ollie right behind me, fighting around corners and defending on straights. We had 3 more laps left as our tires started degrading drastically and our cars lost the power they had earlier in the race. Speeding down the main straight and reaching turn 1 Ollies tire clipped mine and we both spun into the gravel.

Furrowed brows under my helmet as I got out of my car that would’ve taken me to the top of the podium if it weren’t for Oliver Bearman. I put my steering wheel back in and smack the halo, needing something to take my anger out before walking away with clenched fists. Oliver stands still and stares at me as I aim to stride past him, but instead I land directly in front of him but don’t say a word. Our helmets would’ve touched if it weren’t for our heights and although my visor was still on I knew he understood the emotions that ran through me at that moment. We stayed like that for what felt like minutes until I walked away with a brush against his shoulder and hand. 

Every race after that there was a stronger battle between both of us, it was either me or him that won, and those few times we didn’t, the bottom two on the podium had our names on it. 

Just like last year, there was a party held, but this time we were in F2 and I wasn’t tailing after him. 

Me and Arthur walked in together dressed impeccably and proud. We had a good season together and maybe letting loose at this “party” might make this season better. 

Since everyone on the grid was here, it would be inevitable to see Oliver. Whether it’s a good or bad thing, I kind of do want to see him, especially since after that crash, I’ve never been better and he doesn’t enjoy being under me, so I’ll have a great time. 

It barely took 5 minutes until Arthur found Oliver and started a conversation, while I stood with Arthur people congratulated me on having dominance over the season so far and I just waited till Oliver would say it too. And to my surprise it didn’t take long. “Oh um, congratulations.” I hear him mumble under his breath. “Sorry I didn’t catch that, can you say that again?” I ask him, hiding my smirk with a confused look.

He gives me an annoyed smirk, knowing wholly what I was trying to do. “Congratulations.” He quickly says and watches a smile curl on my lips before walking away with one too. Me and Arthur somehow separate and I find another one of my favourite people on the grid–Juan. I immediately laughed as the first words he said were an enlightening joke, and we sat at the table and talked, it felt so short but apparently it wasn’t. 

I excused myself to the bathroom but not without a short interruption. “Nice boyfriend, since when?” The oh so recognisable accent drew me out of my stride. 

“Oh, Oliver? I never knew you had an interest in people's personal lives.” I sarcastically joked, but I gained no reaction from him. 

“I never knew you had an interest in people so low in the championship.”

“Unlike you Oliver, I actually know how to interact with people whether they are high or low in the championship because I know they won’t ruin my race even if we’re rivals.” I try to add some of his words from that night in F3 while taking a step closer toward him and most definitely getting in his personal space. He doesn’t attempt to move back into the wall that he already rests on, but instead looks down at me with concentrated eyes staring into mine. 

“How do you interact with people? Oh please show me. Is it actions before words?” I knew exactly what he was asking for so I step on my tippy toes to stand taller and he lifts his head to look straight forward at me, I move my face closer to his, just like he did that night. I feel the ghost of his hand along my hips as my parted lips hover over his. I breathe against his skin and feel him try to move closer to me just before I break away and walk back into the main room.

Losing my need for the bathroom I walk back with a smirk and see the same one of Arthur’s faces. We both found a seat next to each other and laughed as I told him what happened. Arthur couldn’t get over it and started making fun of Ollie from across the table. Sending him air kisses and chuckles. 

And just like I hoped this night did make the season more enjoyable. 

I walked out of the Prema garage as we were 15 minutes till lights out and me and Arthur had just spent the morning being stupid together. We still couldn’t get over last night and Arthur was just waiting to see Ollie again, which was definite thanks to them being teammates. But as Ollie walked in, I had to leave. I sent him a teasing smile and he looked away with his signature furrowed brows. 

We all got in our cars and lined up on the grid, me and Oliver sharing the front row. Once the lights went out Ollie kept the lead and I trailed behind him, keeping the gap close. Halfway through the race there was a yellow flag which lasted a few minutes before we were back to racing. The yellow flag closed the gap between both of us by a lot and now we were wheel to wheel.

I had the inside line so we both knew what was going to happen. But just like Australia, our cars collide and our race ends in seconds. I was most definitely filled with the same emotions as Australia but I knew hitting the halo wouldn’t ease them. I don’t dare to walk close or past Oliver so I take the long way around and stride straight to my driver's room. I don’t speak to anyone on the way there and slam the door once I arrive. 

It hadn’t even been a minute until I received an unexpected knock on my door. Everyone knew that when I was angry, it was best to leave me alone unless you were certain that you could make me feel better. So when I got up to answer the door I was surprised to see Oliver. Before I could say a word, he beat me to it. “I’m sorry.” I stood there confused trying to process the words he had just told me. “I-I hit something and I couldn’t control my car, I think you hit it too and then we both…” 

“And you think sorry will fix what just happened? For the second time!”

“No, I don’t think it will fix everything, but maybe if you accept the apology then things might change.”

“What happened? So you start talking to me, and now you learn manners! What happened to ignoring me and sending glares or not talking because I’d ruin your race or maybe you just never liked me!”

“A lot happened! And I don’t know how to explain it, but don’t act like I’m the only one that changed! What happened to the smiles you would give me before the race or when you would walk with me on the track?”

“You ignored it Oliver! You never showed an interest and you knew what you did that one night. You really hurt me Ollie.”

“Well then please, give me a chance to fix it. I regret everything I ever did or didn’t do.”

“And why do you want to fix it now Oliver?”

“I… I realised something. I realised that I really enjoyed when you would talk to me! And that the reason I ignored you before races was because you would infiltrate my mind during the race like you do every day and night! And I really wanted you- I still want you!”

“Fuck it.” I mutter under my breath as my hand grabs his and pulls it into my room and shutting the door right behind him. I had spent so long wondering what his lips would feel like, and now I know, they are the definition of paradise, my paradise. And his hands finally against my body did more than just touch my skin, they touched my mind and I tried to engrave the feeling into me. We broke the kiss and I looked into his eyes, irises being eaten by his pupils. Once my eyes landed on his neck, my lips did too. Placing hickeys all over his skin and moaning at the sound of his hushed groans. 

“Is this what you wanted, Oliver?” I ask him against his skin. I don’t get words as an answer but little whines instead. My hands go to the top of his racing suit and I start unzipping it, soon pulling it down his body. Ollie starts to help me, mirroring my actions and seconds later we both stood in just our fireproofs. I couldn’t bear to still see him in clothes so my hands pulled his top off and my hands travelled along his unclothed chest. 

“Come on Oliver, I’m not the one that has to fix this.” I mumble against his lips with a smirk. His hands then grip the back of my thighs and pull my body up against his. My legs wrap around his body like it’s not the first time and he lays me down on the small driver's bed. 

“Is it too hard to finish what you started?” He whispers against my skin as he pulls my pants down my legs and they land on the ground. I sit up and lean forward to slide his pants down his legs so he can help ease the need between my legs. And once his pants sit next to mine, I have to clench my thighs together for at least some friction. 

“Would you like to watch me finish what I started?” I ask and before I gain an answer I swap our positions, I replace my body on the bed with his and I stand in front of him. I barely give him any time to react as I crawl onto his lap. And then in seconds I lower onto his dick. Emitting a loud moan from his perfect lips, one that’s louder and longer than my own. 

“I guess I’ll take first place again, on your list of best people you’ve fucked.”

“Fuck, oh, you’re the only one on the list.” He somehow manages to grit through his teeth. His words do something to me, and I start to work harder, his hips also coming to meet mine. 

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” I occupy my lips with his and we capture each other’s moans. It didn’t take long until we were both moments away from coming, and it was like we had planned it together as we simultaneously came. I started riding both of our highs out until he grabbed my body again and flipped us over. 

My back hit the soft bed and his hands slid along my hips as he started ramming into me. My whole body moved and it was something I didn’t expect from Oliver, but luckily I now enjoy the unexpected. We both cursed under our breath and out loud as our second climax was inching closer. I clenched around his dick and traced the delicacy of his body as I let myself feel everything that he was giving to me.

His eyes that remind me of autumn glint down into mine before I have to shut my eyes as my back arches and I cum onto his dick for the second time. I wait for the disparate feeling of him releasing in me again and whine when it finally happens. 

He then lets out a long sigh and lays down onto me, body enveloping mine as he stays inside of me. “This was more than what I wanted.” He breathes out and then lays beside me, resulting in feeling the emptiness between my legs but oh so satisfied. 

“Have I fixed what was broken?” He asked me.

“Maybe, but this is the first step.” I turn toward him and smile before he smiles back. This was more than I hoped and certainly more than I expected. So to sum it up, Ollie is many things and emotions, maybe I had to go through the dislike to savour and realise how much the like is worth. So Oliver, you made me want to stab you, but heal your wounds. Drown you, but part the ocean so you can walk through. You made me hate you, but love you too.

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader.

This is just a shameless smut series now! Part 5 and this is gonna be HEAVY with smut, porn without a plot (hope you guys don’t get bored of this) but yeah 18+ warning, sex, swearing, reader riding tf out of Daniel’s dick.

Going heavy on the consent in this chapter cos it’s sexy asf and you’re weird if you think otherwise, I just know Daniel is the most attentive lover ever. @benbarneslut @dinodumbass @ricci-ardo

The pair finally get some proper alone time, in a private environment. There’s so much pent up sexual tension between the pair that they can finally just go for it. Daniel does feel a little shy at first, he’s gonna get kinkier as this series goes on don’t you worry. The two begin to realise their feelings for one another may be returned and this situationship goes deeper than what both of them first intended.

The notification on her phone was just what she’d been waiting for all evening. She’d only been in his room, waiting for about an hour, but it felt like a lifetime. Daniel was back now and they could actually do exactly what they both needed. “Hi.” She smiled, opening the door to reveal the taller man. He was dressed in casual wear now, she was in a hotel towel, fresh from the shower. The scent of Daniel’s body wash on her hit his nose instantly, somehow, it turned him on. Water droplets fell from her shoulder, her hair was tied back into a ponytail, causing her face to be more visible than when it normally cascaded down over her shoulders.

“Hiya.” He gently responded, stepping in and closing the door behind him. The tension was obvious, but neither of them wanted to pounce.

“Sorry, I used your body wash… smells good you’ve got a good collection.” She giggled, spinning around and leading him towards the bed. “It’s okay, it… smells good.” Now he’d wanted to facepalm, it’s like he’d just complimented himself. “On you…” he visibly shook his head, “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s okay, it does smell good, I agree.” She laughed, sensing the shyness he felt. She didn’t know why, it’s not like they hadn’t done this before. He too, smelt like a million dollars, it was something that she knew about him for a while and a big turn onto her. He must’ve showered back when he was at the track, because she almost fell to her knees at the manly scent of cologne and freshness that clung to him. “You want a drink?” He then wandered towards the small fridge in the room, pulling out a water bottle. “Yeah, please.” He tossed one over, hitting her square in the chest. “Oh my god! I am so sorry!” He panicked as she chuckled out a laughter. He hurried over, placing his larger hands on her bare skin.

“Are you okay?” He laughed as she nodded back up to him in amusement, “I’m all good.”

“I’m so sorry, I thought you caught it.” He rubbed his hand over the red mark on her chest. “I have no hand-eye-coordination!” She exclaimed as he smiled down to her in amusement. “I can tell.”

“Or maybe you’ve just got a really bad aim.” She cocked her head to the side, Daniel analysing over her features. “Maybe so.” He shrugged, “think it’s more you though.” He couldn’t help himself as he reached up, fingers running through the bouncy strands of her hair. “Your hair looks good up.” To this she raised a hand to her ponytail nervously.

“Do you think?” She shyly asked, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Yeah.” His voice was gentle as he played with the strands. “It’s just easier out of the way.” She shrugged, fingers toying with the top of her towel. Her breasts were perked and pushed together against the tight wrap of the white material, with one slight nudge it would fall free. She glanced down, wondering whether to just let it drop.

“Oh.” He gently spoke as she glanced back up, smiling before the two met halfway for a tender kiss. His hand was planted on the back of her head, keeping her in the kiss as she kept one hand over her towel, the other resting on his bicep.

“You okay? You need anything?” Daniel then whispered into the kiss as she shook her head, gazing back into his gentle eyes. “Okay.” He nodded, smoothing his hand down her arm before they joined in another kiss. She felt butterflies fill her stomach and her chest felt all heavy at how nice he was. She’d never been with somebody so nice before. Daniel began to embrace her as they kissed, her chest pressed flush against his, holding her towel in place so she could caress his skin.

The kiss deepened slightly, their lips beginning to move as he began to move them down onto the bed. She could feel herself growing wetter and wetter just at the idea of kissing him. He’d laid her down, crawling up between her legs as she let out the most innocent giggle when he made his way over.

“Hmm.” She sighed contently into the kiss as he mimicked her, a hand smoothing up her thigh to open her legs slightly. They were making out, in a much more gentle fashion than what either of them were used to, the longer it went on for the more desperate their desires grew.

Knowing she was strip naked under the towel turned Daniel on, spurring him to kiss down her neck and collar bone, he’d yet to see her completely naked, well in person anyway, it excited him. Her breathy moans mixed with a slight buck of the hips was enough to push Daniel into action. He began tugging on the towel, mentally pleading for it to come free, but he was met with her hands stopping him.

“Can we- can we like… close the curtains?” She shyly asked, feeling completely exposed from the sunlight from outside. Daniel looked over her breathlessly, he didn’t hesitate to meet her need. As he did, she took a couple swings from her drink, watching over him nervously. It felt like she was about to have sex for the first time.

When the curtains closed she knelt up on the bed, teasing the top of the towel open as his mouth opened to speak, but all he could do was swallow in anticipation. Reaching out, he helped slide the towel free, exposing her fully as he took in the sight. “Mh, Daniel I’m shy!” She was quick to giggle, falling down with her legs under her as she covered her breasts.

“It’s okay. You look gorgeous.” He shook his head, stunned by the beauty of her naked body. If he wasn’t hard before then he certainly was now. There came that funny feeling again, both of them felt it as she pulled him in for another kiss. Daniel knew she was showing a more vulnerable side, he didn’t want to push it, so he wanted her to make the first move.

What resulted was a long couple of minutes just making out, his clothing coming off one by one as she ran a hand over his abs. She was obviously checking him out, shooting him a smirk when he realised. “Can I touch you?” Daniel then muttered, finger tips dancing up her thigh. “You don’t need to ask.” She lightly responded as he ran them gently over her pussy.

”You’re already wet.” He quietly spoke, kissing her as he began touching her. God, his touch was good, borderline magical and that’s when she felt herself becoming more and more frantic.

“Daniel!” She’d cried out when his fingers were plunged deep in her again, she was riding his hand, the other pressed down on her hip, he watched intensely as her hips bucked and fell every time he’d curl them into her. “Fuck!” She cursed, back arching off the bed as he glanced back to her face, watching for any signs of discontent. None showed. Good, Daniel thought, she was enjoying it.

“I want you to fuck me.” She babbled. “I want you to fuck me, please.”

His movement slowed, “you want that?” She say up, kissing him harshly whilst reaching for his zipper. “I’ve wanted you all day.” Her movements were not sparing a single moment as she pulled down his trousers, freeing his erection. “So have I.” Daniel groaned, feeling the desperation more than ever.

“Fuck, so bad.” She whined, teeth sinking into her lips as her fingers wrapped around the swell of his cock. Daniel let out a jagged breath at her touch, light yet effective. “You can have me.” Daniel muttered as she kissed over his neck. His focus was becoming weaker and weaker as all he could think about was fucking himself so deep inside her.

“Fuck, you can have me.” He repeated when her mouth landed on his cock, not sparing a second to begin pleasuring him. He was so big she was worried to take him all the way back, knowing she’d choke and gag- but that thrilled her.

The bob of her head was unbearably good on Daniel’s leaking cock. He was in shock at how blissed out he was, holding the back of her head lightly. The soft of her lips and tongue against his throbbing member felt too good. Daniel threw his head back with a throaty sigh at the sensation. She was fucking unreal at sucking his cock, and she was enjoying it too, he could tell.

“Fuck.” He cursed, when her cheeks hollowed. His hips jumped forwards and causing her to gag slightly as he hit the back of her throat. “Sorry, sorry.” He whispered, gently stroking the back of her head. She wiped under her bottom lip slightly, cleaning up where a mixture of her spit and his pre-cum had leaked. Daniel swore it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“It’s okay.” She reassured, sensing he was holding back, so she moved up to kiss him. “Are you okay?” He double checked as she nodded. “Yeah. Are you?” “I’m good.”

“You want me to carry on?” She then whispered, fingers wrapping around his lubricated cock. Her hands slid easily over his tip, pleasuring him slowly. “Yeah, but fuck- I wanna fuck you.” He spoke against her lips as a smile perked, an excitement going straight to her pussy that just ached to feel him. “Can I fuck you?” He muttered as she moaned in response, hands moving back to rest against the bed so she could lay down. “Yeah.” She choked out when he was climbing on top of her. They met halfway in a dizzying kiss, his tongue rolling over his as she tugged him further on top of him. She spread her legs, watching him lick his fingers, just in case, but she was already wet enough. Normally, she’d be dirty talking the hell out of the situation, but all she could do was watch up to him, mouth slight agape and breathless. It was the first time she’d been this excited to sleep with somebody.

Daniel’s cock slid in, stretching her out as she winced slightly, sighing out when he’d pushed himself in. “You ok?” He panicked, head lifting. “Yeah, just…” she moaned out, unable to finish the rest of her sentence. He filled her up so well, they both could feel it. “I’ll go slow.” He hushed, soothing her by pressing a kiss to her cheek. His face nuzzled into her neck, taking a moment as they both let out a sigh when he was all the way inside of her.

She felt so warm and tight, fuck, Daniel had to take a moment to adjust to the feeling of how her pussy fit his cock so well. He was lost between hugging her close and leaning back to watch over her expression. She looked so beautiful taking him, and she thought he looked incredibly good on top of her. At first he was slow, so was their kiss, it felt more like love making than sex, it confused Daniel. Well, not really, he knew exactly why it felt so intimate, and those feelings he harboured. “Daniel.” She whined, back arching up making it easier for him to slip a hand up and squeeze the swell of her breasts. “Harder.” Daniel let out a breath, beginning to pump his hips a little faster into her. He was worried about hurting her, but she seemed to enjoy it, especially when he was on his knees, grinding into her, teeth buried into his bottom lip. His muscles were flexing with each movement and she could see the way his cheeks were growing flushed. He hit an angle deep inside her that felt so good, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, Daniel lifting his head to watch her watching herself being fucked. It spurred him on even more, fucking into her with hands tightening around her legs.

“Fuck! Like that, Daniel!” She vocalised, grabbing at the bedsheets as she fell back, lifting her hips allowing him to reach even deeper. Daniel’s breaths were growing louder, every now and then he’d let out a soft groan or grunt, spurring her on further. He watched in awe at the swell of her tits bouncing with each fast thrust he fucked into her, driving his hips harder with desperation. “Fuck!” He cursed, falling forwards so his body was on hers again. “Is it good?” He muttered as she moaned, searching for his lips. “So good, Daniel, so so good.”

After a few more minutes, she rolled the two over, giggling as she climbed on top of him, Daniel’s hands resting on her hips, stroking a hand soft the soft of her thigh as he took in the naked woman now easing down onto his cock. The new angle was overwhelming for both of them, she began bouncing, slowly at first, but soon the love making became frantic and she was riding him to holy hell.

Daniel wasn’t normally a vocal man, but there was something about the way she was grinding and fucking onto his cock, whining and moaning like a goddamn porn star. She couldn’t be real, Daniel thought, she looked too fucking sexy, borderline putting on a performance for him. “Fuck, you look too good like this.”

“Yeah? You like when I bounce on your cock?” She rested a hand on his stomach, Daniel let out a moan, head lolling back as she sunk back down onto his cock. “Keep riding me like that, n you’ll make me cum.” He groaned out, fingertips digging into her flesh. Y/n moaned and dropped her body onto his, exhausted from the movement as she panted into his ear. “I want you to cum, fuck, I want it Daniel, inside of me.”

Weeks of building up to this moment made Daniel’s head spin, the only response being a throaty moan that drove her crazy as he began bouncing his hips, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other on her ass. She grasped onto him desperately as he began fucking into her so fast she was seeing stars.

“Daniel! Daniel! Da-“ she couldn’t even get her words out from the moans and gasps that left her lips. The sound of their skin slapping together and the bed squeaking below them gave the sex and animalistic turn as Daniel fucked her like he’d been waiting his whole life for this. His cock repeatedly hit that sensitive spot inside her, fingers moving down to rub over her clit, aiding her approaching orgasm.

“Fuck, Daniel!” She whimpered out lowly, hearing him desperately gasp as he pushed into her three long, hard thrusts before continuing with his bruising pace. “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?!” He breathlessly asked as she let out a high pitched cry, nails digging into his shoulder. He didn’t care about the pain, it felt good as he frantically chased their highs.

She could barely breathe as her eyes furrowed shut, Daniel loved the noises she was making in his ear, feeling like he’d lost all self control as he desperately pounded into her like he’d longed to do. “Fuck me!” She squeaked, the sound of her wetness against his cock making everything undeniably hotter. She was so wet and God, he made her feel so good, his lips sucking on her neck, his arms clutching her so close.

“Yeah, you close?” Daniel asked, tittering on the edge of his orgasm. “Fuck, yeah, I’m cumming!” She ground harder down, her stomach continuously tightening as her muscles tensed, before she let the wave overtake her and she came crashing down onto his chest as she muffled the sounds of her pleasure into his skin. Daniel’s hand stroked up her back, his hips moving gently, coercing her through her orgasm as she let out a gentle moan that sent butterflies through Daniel’s stomach.

“You good?” He smiled as she lifted her head with a shy smile. “Fuck… yeah.” They shared a lighthearted moment before he pulled her in for a kiss. She liked it, the way he wanted to kiss her so much, the affection that previous lovers had neglected as he moaned into her mouth as his hips jittered against hers. Sensing his exhaustion, she took over, humming back at how sensitive her pussy was as she began rolling her hips.

“Are you gonna cum?” She asked against his mouth. “Yeah.” Daniel groaned as she picked him one more time before sitting up straighter and using the last of her energy to start bouncing on his rock hard cock. She bet he ached for that orgasm, he’d needed to cum so bad, balls so full for her. Part of her wanted to go down on her knees for him, he’d love that, but she felt too shy.

“Oh… my god.” He strained, throwing an arm over his forehead as she smiled, rolling her hips a little faster now. “Cum inside me. Fuck- I need you to finish inside me.” She borderline pleaded with a whisper, mainly so she could hear the noises he was making. “Fuck, yeah, gonna cum.” Daniel nodded, jaw agape as he returned his hands to her hip bones. Head dropped back and eyes shut as he let out the hottest sounds she’d ever heard. “Gonna fill you up.” He grunted as she bounced on top of him, her own pleasure making him find the situation all too overwhelming as he felt the warmth of his orgasm begin.

“Give it to me, Daniel!” Her beg caused Daniel to knot all his muscles before he felt his orgasm wash over him, shuddering at the sensation of ropes of cum spilling inside of her. Daniel was cursing more so than he ever did, hands grasping at her tightly as his body convulsed slightly at the orgasm. She smiled, pleased by the result of her actions as he let out a satisfied groan, pulling her close as he hummed, nuzzling his head into the side of her face as they both enjoyed the moment of comfort they brought one another.

She sighed content with the position as Daniel’s hand ran up and down her back, still coming down from his high. It was far more intimate than any sex could ever bring, and she found herself frowning, ever so slightly. The feelings were growing more and more, she started to think the sexual attraction was down to an already existing crush for Daniel.

Once the pair had cleaned up, she’d pulled her dress back on and joined him on the balcony. Night had broken out and the lights across Monaco had twinkled into the nights sky. “I like it here.” She rested on the balcony, looking back to the man who was already watching her.

Her heart jumped as their eyes met. “Yeah. So do I.” Daniel looked back across to the sea not too far away. “Do you think you could live here?” He asked her as she smiled, nodding. “I like living here.” He responded as she rested her arm on the balcony, chin on top of her skin.

“Hmmm, better than LA?” She’d asked. “Yeah. Sometimes. LA is… loud.” “So is Monaco.” She’d giggled nudging her hip against his. “But in a different kinda way.” He spoke again as she smiled, letting silence take over them once more. Daniel could feel a pressure in his chest rising, the more he looked at her the harder it became to hold back his feelings. He was so used to wearing his heart on his sleeve, that not expressing the deeper feelings he had occurring for her. If this was any other scenario then he would’ve put them straight out there, but with her it was more difficult. He cursed himself for feeling so complicated about it all.

She’d looked back up to him, just stealing a glance before she pushed herself up straighter again. “I should go. I gotta eat.”

“Well, wait- why don’t we uh, order something? You can stay here?” His words caused a new feeling to wash over here, hope. Hope that this was going somewhere. Her desires had wound up to thinking more intensely about Daniel, not just about sexual desires- no matter how easy it was to hide her actual feelings for lust.

“Okay… but I need a toothbrush.” He felt relief at her agreeing. In his hotel room, it could just be them two, there was no need to worry about whatever anybody else would think. Nobody would know, Daniel begun to question how people would react if the two got more serious. Was that too soon? Yes- Daniel couldn’t let himself think like that. Christian was an amazing guy who was super close to Daniel, he just wondered if that would change if he’d discovered he’d been sleeping with his daughter who was 12 years his junior. Was it a mistake asking her to stay? Maybe, but only because each of them knew they’d become more attached, it was an unspoken understanding between the two of them. But fuck it, it was just one night… how much harm could it cause?

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒜 𝐹𝒪𝒪𝐿 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸

info ⭑ geto suguru x reader ﾉ 2.4k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ ex-boyfriend geto ﾉ band au ﾉ hurt/comfort ﾉ a wee bit angsty ﾉ some suggestive bits ﾉ reader is tipsy ﾉ ambiguous ending

note ⭑ hi! after writing this, i really wanna continue something with this band au geto! not sure if that means i'll be making this into a series. . . perhaps an anthology? idk! lmk if you'd be interested :3 happy reading !

the streets of tokyo during the late hours of the day are restless—especially here in shibuya. you’d think the bustling crowds, fast pace, and your slightly tipsy state would make it difficult to recognize anyone but the universe seems keen to prove you wrong recently.

because standing at the corner of the street you’re supposed to be turning at is him—the man you haven’t seen in nearly five months and didn’t plan on seeing any time soon.

the sight of geto makes you stop–or more accurately, stumble–in your tracks. you can’t help the way your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. it’s as if time slows for a couple of seconds in his distant presence. you can’t think straight and you aren’t sure if that’s because of him, too, or if you have the alcohol to blame for that.

regardless, when you finally regain cognitive function after what feels like an eternity, you’re able to tell yourself that you need to turn around and find another route home. unfortunately for you, the thought comes a second too late, geto spinning to face you just before you have the opportunity to turn on your heel. the brief moment of shared eye contact doesn’t stop you from trying to run for the hills, though you quietly curse yourself for getting caught in this predicament while you do so.

you hear the shout of your name from behind you, but you don’t dare come to a halt. your perseverance to escape is futile, made apparent by the newfound proximity of the familiar voice and the feel of fingers snaking around your wrist. you aren’t sure what possesses you to do so, but you quickly swing around to face the man hellbent on catching up to you. he seems just as surprised as you if the way his eyebrows shoot up is any evidence. 

“hey, wait—i come in peace.” geto raises his hands in mock surrender to show that he stands by his words.

you believe him. 

your fingers are cool as they brush against your forehead in an attempt to form a coherent sentence. there isn’t much you can think to say other than, “sorry, i just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“i gathered as much.” geto nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he knew this reunion–if it ever even happened–would be awkward, but the air between the two of you is so tense that he finds it a little hard to breathe. he clears his throat before continuing. “kind of looked like you were trying to avoid me though.”

“got me there,” you softly admit.

geto understands but he doesn’t relate. he’s been trying to get a hold of you since he landed back in japan last week and his efforts have been fruitless until now. running into you this way may have been a coincidence but geto doesn’t intend on squandering what just might be his one chance to tell you what has been nagging at his mind for the past few months. “look, i was hoping we could talk.”

the expression that paints your face upon hearing his request is apprehension. he can practically see the blinking red lights and hear the alarm bells going off in your head. and, as much as he hates to admit it, your worry makes sense. the last time he asked you to talk, he broke up with you.

“ten minutes—fifteen, max.” geto attempts to bargain. he hopes the limit on the time you have to spend with him will convince you to agree, to hear him out. it hurts, but after chewing on his cheek, he adds another condition that’ll work in your favor. “and after, if you don’t want to see me again, i’ll leave you alone for good.”

with as much effort as you’ve been putting into steering clear of geto since his return, you’d think his words would come as a comfort to you. they don’t, though. the feelings that surge within you at hearing them contradict your strict avoidance of geto up until this point. they make you confront the fact that you have wanted to see him and can’t stomach the thought of never seeing him again.

you’re taking a risk by doing so, but you nod.

“okay, let’s talk.”

the two of you end up at some park a little ways away from the city center—one where you can see the orangey-red leaves flutter through the air once they fall from the trees and watch the fountain in the pond shoot up water that rains back down. despite how pretty the scenery is, you can’t help but look at geto instead.

it’s been practically half a year since you last saw him. you’re sure he’s changed quite a bit since then but all you can focus on are the ways he’s stayed the same, the little parts of him that you missed while he was gone—like the dragon tattoo that snakes up his shoulder to his collarbone. seeing it floods your head with memories of when the two of you were together. mornings spent tracing the delicate lines with feathery touches, kissing up the ink and coloring the creature with love bites.

you almost flinch at the reminder. your plan wasn’t to revisit the past, at least, not those moments, but seeing the tattoo on display makes it almost impossible. it’s geto’s fault for wearing that stupid sleeveless hoodie. you drag your gaze up to meet the obsidian shards that are his eyes. “strange choice of attire for such a chilly night.”

he rubs his arm at your observation, a grin gracing his lips. “yeah, i didn’t plan on staying out for long.”

you know that you agreed to come with him, but even sitting on opposite sides of the same bench is proving to be overwhelming. so, instead of regarding his innocent statement as simply that, you view it as an out. “if you have somewhere you need to go or someone you’re supposed to meet, we can do this another time.”

“no way.” geto doesn’t let a beat of quiet pass before he speaks and shakes his head. “i finally caught you and i’m not letting you get away so easily.”

the confession stuns you to silence. there are a million thoughts bouncing off the walls of your skull right now–how this wasn’t a good idea, that you weren’t obligated to listen to what he wants to say–but the one that worms its way past the others and to the forefront is that his words are… romantic. it’s frustrating that you aren’t mad at him, especially when you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that you should be.

it seems as though the feelings you tried so hard to bury are beginning to resurface.

you clear your throat. “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“right,” geto starts, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. his tongue pokes out from between his lips to poke at the metal hoops wrapped around them. they’re things he does when he’s nervous, like when he first asked you out on a date or when he’d tune his guitar while waiting to go on stage. you wonder what it is on his mind that has him so on edge. though, you aren’t sure if it’s your place to ask, to show concern like you used to, so you stay quiet.

“i guess i wanted to talk about how we left things,” he finally tells you.

you should have seen this coming, and maybe part of you–a part you were trying to ignore–did. there isn’t much more the two of you can discuss. there have been a lot of unspoken thoughts lingering on your mind since that night, ones that you never planned on letting see the light of day. you’ve gone so long sitting on your feelings; what’s the point in digging them up now?

“what more is there to talk about exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms—using them as a shield. “you broke up with me to go on tour and i told you that i understood—no hard feelings.”

geto is quiet across from you, but you can tell there’s something weighing on his mind, words on the tip of his tongue. a few moments of stillness pass before he spits it out. “i don’t think you mean that. not then and… not now.”

“what do you want me to say, suguru?” you toss your hands up in frustration. your voice has been low, controlled up until this point but rises with your question, with your growing irritation. does he want to humiliate you even more than he already has? your intention of continuing to sit on your feelings, to keep them hidden, is lost with the way words unknowingly spill past your lips. “that i was dumb for thinking that i was worth a little more effort to you? that i should have let go of you as easily as you did me?”

there’s a certain level of relief that comes with your words but they also open up a wound you’ve been trying your best to close. all the emotions you felt that night feel as raw as they did then, as though you’re reliving it all over again. 

the tears return, gathering at your lash line and threatening to fall but never rupturing the dam. the insecurity comes back, too. you can feel the ghost of a knife piercing your heart as you think about how it felt like he had chosen music over you. but who were you to ask him to reconsider—to think of you before his music, his dream?

tonight is turning out to be more than you can handle.

you’re about to stand, apologize for your outburst, and excuse yourself when geto speaks up.

“i didn’t let go of you—not really,” he quietly admits. his hand reaches up to his neck again, fingers twirling the loose hairs that happened to make it out of his bun. the action makes his words carry more truth and while you can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely, hearing them has an uncontrollable effect on you.

one of the tears you were adamant about not shedding until you were out of his sight rolls down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. “you don’t have to say that, it’s not going to make me feel any better.”

“i mean it, though, i do.” when you finally muster up the courage to meet his stare, his eyes tell you that what he said is the truth. his eyes have never lied. “i thought about you every day while i was on tour.”

the confession sends a pang to your heart. it clears up the fog of turmoil clouding your mind, although a haze of uncertainty lingers. does he mean that he missed you—the same way you’ve been hopelessly missing him?

you don’t have to aimlessly ponder, as geto continues.

“look, i asked you here because i wanted to tell you that i regret how i went about things. i thought about my choice–about you–a lot. and i realized a little too late that i owed us a chance. i was scared that we couldn’t handle long distance and that we’d both end up hurt but i never considered the possibility that it might have worked for us.”

geto unconsciously reaches for you, though when he realizes what he’s doing, he thinks better of it, letting his hand rest in his lap instead. just because he’s laying himself bare for you doesn’t mean the pain he’s caused has disappeared. besides, he still has one thing to say before you can even consider forgiving him.

his tongue glides across his lower lip, over the two silver hoops situated on either side. “i made a decision that both of us should have had a say in. i’m sorry.”

beyond the feelings of heartache and self-doubt, the thing you felt most that night was unheard—as if anything you could have thought to utter during that moment would have fallen on deaf ears. geto seems to have noticed that much, reflected on it and recognized his mistake. his apology, the acknowledgment of his fault, unchains the final weight that was tugging at your heart.  

you sniff and dab at the stray tears that have trickled down your face. “thanks for saying so. and… i forgive you.”

there’s a weight of his own that makes geto’s chest feel lighter upon hearing your words. from the minute he started rehearsing this conversation, he imagined that he’d damaged you to the point of being unworthy of your compassion, your forgiveness. this is more than he could have asked for, even if you still choose to take him up on his offer of leaving you alone for good.

“i’m glad,” geto nods, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though he doesn’t let the short moment of happiness overtake him. “i know that was probably a lot and if you need to take some time to decide how you want us to proceed, if at all, i understand.”

you shake your head and the corners of geto’s lips fall into a neutral line. he made a good point earlier, one that you can’t ignore if you want to prevent yourself from getting hurt the way you did before. and despite just learning about it, geto was hurting, too. if you can minimize the pain either of you have to experience, you will.

you clear your throat with hopes that your voice will come out steady. “i’d rather come to that conclusion together. since it has to do with both of us, y’know?”

geto’s shoulders slump as the tension seeps from them. “yeah. yeah, of course. whenever you’re ready.”

“we can start tonight if you have time,” you suggest, bashfully rubbing up and down your arms. it really feels like you’re starting over. before you knew his name, simply when you had a crush on the hot guy playing at the bar you were visiting for the night. “i want to hear about how your tour went.”

“okay,” geto easily agrees, the smile from earlier making its way back to his lips. it meets his eyes and the obsidian shards sparkle—with hope.

hi there, sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[luvnami]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - based on this tweet, set in a college!au 𝐜𝐰 - alcohol 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.1k+

Tomioka Giyuu has never quite been a senseless man. Most of the student body know him to be quiet and intelligent, but terrible at reading the room. He definitely was not the type to rock up to a club on a Friday night – Giyuu prefers heading to bed early, and it was many hours past his 10pm bedtime, thank you very much. Besides, there was club training tomorrow and-

“Giyuu!”

Your voice cuts through the club music that causes Giyuu’s eardrums to throb. He looks over to see you squeezing through a throng of sweaty club-goers, twisting your hips this way and that as you half-shout ‘sorry!�� and ‘excuse me!’. 

You had invited Giyuu as your plus one to Mitsuri’s birthday party. He normally would have refused, quoting some sort of fanatical reason that he couldn’t make it, but your argument caused Giyuu to shrivel up inside. 

“It’s not like you have anywhere else to be, do you?”

Giyuu stares off to the side as he remembers what you had said just a few days ago. Your gentle huff of laughter was the final nail in his coffin as he mumbled something along the lines of agreeing to go. You definitely were not wrong, as much as Giyuu hated to admit it. He had nowhere else to be on a Friday night. No one but you would invite him out, though you knew that he usually preferred to spend his nights alone thumbing through a paperback. 

But it was Mitsuri’s birthday! And it had been far too long since you had the opportunity to go out, so it was only natural of you to drag your best friend along. 

“What are you doing here?”

Giyuu shuffles his feet to make space for you as you finally reach him across the club floor. You squint your eyes at the toilet sign hanging above his head, directing drunk patrons to a safe haven for their throw-up. Giyuu has no answer for you. He shrugs weakly, eyes drifting over your frame briefly. 

Glitter on your eyelids catch the flashing lights of the club, turning into specks of a rainbow each time you blink. Giyuu stares at your lips. You had swiped on some gloss that night, and he wonders if your lips had ever looked so-

“Giyuu!”

He snaps out of it. You look crossly at him, eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Sorry,” Giyuu mumbles. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to focus on a piece of trash on the club floor. It was more apparent than anything that the poor man wanted to go home. 

“Have you had a drink yet?” you ask.

You raise a plastic cup of swirling liquid, melting ice cubes bumping against each other. Giyuu shakes his head. The moment you entered the club, he had lost sight of you as a sweaty couple shoved themselves rudely into his side. He vaguely remembers them trying to eat each other’s face off. Giyuu had then consigned himself to blend in to the crowd the best he could – at least, his definition of that was sticking to the toilet entrance till you collected him to go home. 

“Come on, you can have a sip of mine.”

Giyuu eyes the cup. There’s a faint lip print on its cusp. He rarely drank, if at all, and Giyuu opens his mouth to protest. But someone must have pushed you from behind, given how your body collides into his with a noise of surprise. 

Giyuu’s brain short circuits. His hands hover above your shoulders. He tries to connect the words to ask if you’re alright. But the music is loud, and the scent of your sweat and perfume hits him, and you’re so warm and and and-

“Asshole!” you shout, sticking a middle finger up at a random person. 

You take a step back and steady yourself. Giyuu is glad that the club is dim, and the lights are dizzying. He hopes you can’t make out the red splotches on his cheeks. He hasn’t even had a sip of liquor yet, but his head spins. 

“C’mon Giyuu. You don’t mind vodka, do you?” 

His eyes dart back to your face as you shove your plastic cup towards him once more. Giyuu protests, but the words disappear in his throat as his head nods yes. You grin. You gently guide him to an empty sofa a few steps away, and Giyuu’s grateful as his weak knees buckle. He falls back onto the fake leather seat and gulps as your feet plant themselves next to his. 

“Tilt your head back for me.”

Giyuu doesn’t like taking orders. But he obeys so easily as your hand cups his chin, thumb digging slightly into the meat of his cheek. 

God. 

Giyuu’s heart pounds faster than the bass-heavy track booming in the background. You place the plastic cup against his lips and he tastes strawberry lip gloss first, before vodka and sprite. He doesn’t know where to look. His eyes want to flutter half-shut as you pour the drink into  his mouth, but your eyes are so focused on his face that Giyuu barely musters enough courage to meet your gaze. 

His Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp. The alcohol burns its way down his throat and into his stomach and Giyuu hopes you can’t feel how his cheeks are on fire. You’re standing so close to him that Giyuu knows he could easily pull you into his lap. He keeps his hands balled tightly into fists, knuckles turning white. 

It’s over as soon as it begins. Ice cubes press against his lips and you pull the cup away, drained of its drink. Giyuu gasps for a breath of air as you pat his cheek once, twice. 

“Good job,” you grin.

Giyuu thinks he’s about to pass out. This is exactly why he stays in his dorm alone on Friday nights – so that he’s safe from you. 

Tomioka Giyuu has never quite been a man of irrationality. But… Perhaps he can be persuaded. 

-

Giyuu clutches the nearby lamp post for stability, the other hand on his knee. He retches into the street as his stomach turns itself inside out.

“Aw, Giyuu! You only had one drink…” you soothe, rubbing circles into his back.

His head spins and Giyuu thinks his eyeballs must have gotten lost somewhere in the back of his brain. He looks up at you with a blank stare and vomit trickling down the side of his mouth. You have to suppress a laugh. 

“I’ll call us a cab back, alright?” 

Giyuu nods, but all he sees after that is black.

“Giyuu!”

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Requested by: @romanoffsbish #6 “Are you really so oblivious?” ; WandaNat•Tony says it to R who’s currently “googly” eyeing the couple from across the room with a sad smile, and Tony’s had enough of the dancing around each other nonsense. 

Authors note: requests are still closed. I’m trying to clear my inbox before opening them again. Thank you for your patience 💖

Word count: 2898   WandaNat Masterlist   Marvel Masterlist

   Wanda giggles as Natasha playfully spins her around the kitchen, the ingredients for their pancakes quickly forgotten as the spy initiates an impromptu dance session to the music that plays from the Sokovians phone. 

   They don’t even notice the attention paid to them by the few of their teammates over at the table. Sam smiles at the scene before returning to his oatmeal and Tony pretends to gag at the display of affection before he sits down with his omelet. 

   “Let them be Stark” Thor chastises with a mouth full of poptart,  “Love is special, and it deserves to be celebrated”

  “I know that goldilocks” he retorts with an eyeroll, “Besides, I doubt they even heard my teasing."

   Clints brow quirks as he drops his banana peel on the table and his eyes meet yours as you glance up from your plate. You both share a knowing look before smirks spread on both your faces.

  “Oh yeah” the archer agrees, “No way the super spy with super senses heard you. Ridiculous notion”

   You chuckle at the nervous expression that crosses the billionaires face only to earn a glare from him in turn, “At least I let my feelings be known”

   Mistaking his jab at your not so hidden feelings for more teasing you simply toll your eyes and grumble, “Whatever Tony”

   “Is he bothering you malysh(baby)?” Wanda voice suddenly rings out through the dining room and Sam has to suppress his laughter at the way Tony's complexion pales slightly 

   “Oh. Uh, no. No, he's just being his normal, annoying self” you tell her, smiling over where she stands with her girlfriend at the kitchen island.

   “Good” Natasha says, her tone sending a chill through both you and Tony but for different reasons, “Otherwise I’d have to punch him”

   “I’m right here you know” the man says, waving his fork in the air

   “Oh I know. I just don’t care.” she replies, sending a wink your way 

   You try your best to ignore the warmth that spreads across your cheeks at the action, instead focusing back on the man next to you again. He purses his lips, letting out a small huff in annoyance and you laugh at the Russians ability to get under his skin so easily. You completely miss the way Natasha beams at Wanda for being able to make you produce the sound they both adore so much.

   “Y/n?” 

   You turn to look at the brunette again, “Yeah Wans?”

   “Tasha and I were going to go into the city today. Do some shopping, go to lunch, sit in the park for a little bit and maybe get some ice cream. Then we were gonna watch a movie when we got home. Would you like to join us?”

   “I’m sorry guys, I have a briefing to attend in like half an hour. I think I’m being sent on an impromptu mission.”  you tell them as you stand and walk back to the kitchen with your dirty plate to clean, “I hope the two of you guys have fun though”

   “Oh, ok” the witch responds, her shoulders deflating at both the missed opportunity and the distance you’ve created. Truthfully both she and Nat have noticed you being a bit more distant with them lately and it was worrying them, "Maybe next time then"

   Though you feel nervous about spending that much alone time with the women you nod, "Yeah next free day I have we can definitely do something" 

   Natasha doesn't like the knot of discomfort she feels in her gut. She doesn't know what other team members are going with you on this sudden mission but she desperately wishes that she or Wanda was on the chosen team. She feels better when one of them is there to watch over you. What if something happens to you today?

     The look her girlfriend gives her indicates she feels the same way about this situation and Nat wishes there was something she could do to change things, but there isn’t. So she settles for doing something that both shows she cares and helps slightly settle her nerves.

   “Just be careful out there, ok kotenok(kitten)?”

   You smile at her, “Always Nat. I’ll see you guys later.”

   The two continue to stand there a few minutes after you leave. The worry for your fate on this mission and the disappointment for your lack of presence in their lives of late might as well shine over their heads like neon signs in Vegas. So Tony decides to do his best to reassure them.

   “Try not to worry too much” he says, placing a hand on each woman's shoulder, “T’Challa and I are going with her. Hill will be there too so she's in good hands. I can’t promise no harm will come to her because you know how hectic these things can get, but I can promise that I’ll bring her back in one piece.”

   “Thanks Tony. I just wish we could go with her.” Wanda tells him, a sad smile on her face, “We like being able to see that she's safe”

  “I know. Which is why I will do my best to stick to her like glue, and have her home in time for your movie”

   Nat turns to him with a smirk, “You know, don’t you?”

   He chuckles, “You may be a spy, Romanoff but there's no hiding that look. Plus witchy here doesn’t know what it means to have a poker face”

   “Hey! I can keep a straight face” she huffs, crossing her arms. 

   Natasha quirks a brow at her girlfriend, earning a glare that makes her chuckle, “I didn’t even say anything”

   “You didn't have to, I heard your thoughts” she replies, making the redhead smirk

   “Good luck Romanoff” Tony cuts in, “I’m off to the briefing”

   Several hours later the quinjet lands back down at the compound and you and your team tiredly shuffle around, gathering your things as you prepare to disembark and head inside. 

   “It’s been a long day. Head inside and get some rest everyone. Turn your paperwork into me tomorrow morning and I’ll get it to Fury” Hill states before heading off

   T’Challa is the next to move, he has a jet to Wakanda to catch tomorrow afternoon and needs extra rest to get that paperwork done beforehand, “Goodnight Tony, Y/n. Good work today, and if I don’t see you before my flight, it was good to see you”  

   “Goodnight” you and Tony say in unison before heading inside yourselves.

   As the two of you walk through the hall you're stuck by the fact that the tv and light are still on in the living room, something which is unusual for this time of night. You both wordlessly decide to take a peek at what's going on and stop in the doorway.

    Over on the sofa, curled up with each other under a blanket sit Natasha and Wanda. A Bond movie plays on the tv and even at your distance you can tell by the way the Russians lips move that she's softly quoting every line. Wanda looks up at her with a fondness before linking one of her hands with Nats and her attention returns to the screen. You smile at their cute interaction, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

   A deep ache fills your chest as you watch them, and you sigh. You’d give anything to be able to join them, but you can’t. Not in the way you want to at least. And you’re tired of pretending that you don’t want more with them. You've had to withdraw because only being their friend while they held your heart, it hurt. You know it's nothing personal, nor is it their fault, but you couldn’t continue to do that to yourself. You hope one day, when your heart has righted itself, that they’ll understand. But until then, solitude is best.

   “Well” you whisper, “Glad to see Nat still likes Bond. Goodnight Tony”

   You go to turn away but his firm hand stops you, “Are you really so oblivious?”

   Your brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

   “Kid, it's past midnight and they're in the living room. They have a tv in their room, and you and I both know that's where they always watch their movies.”

   You shrug, “Maybe they just wanted a change of scenery”

   He exasperatedly runs a hand through his hair, “Christ sake kid, they waited there for you.”

   “Huh? Why would they do that?”

   He sighs, “Because they miss you, and they didn’t get to spend the day with you, so they at least wanted to be here to greet you once you got home. They wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

   “Oh.” you pause, feeling guilty for hurting them with your absence while also feeling grateful for their care, “I better not keep them waiting then. Goodnight Tony”

   “Night Y/n” he says, with the hope that finally everyone's confessions would come to light tonight

   You slowly approach the couple, feeling guilty you were about to disrupt their movie despite knowing they waited up for you. In the end you don’t need to interrupt them as your movements end up catching the Sokovians attention and her eyes light up.

   “Malysh(baby), you're back!” 

   Nats head quickly turns in your direction, but her smile fades slightly as she notices the dirt and small scrapes that adorn your forearms and face, “Are you hurt?”

   You shake your head, “No. Just some normal bumps and bruises is all.”

   They both frown at your statement and Wanda quickly untangles herself from her girlfriend in order to approach you. Her hand gently trails across a bruise on your cheek before grabbing onto your hand and she looks back to Nat to receive a nod.

   “Let's get you cleaned up, ok?” You're too tired to say no so you dumbly nod and follow her to the couples bedroom, with Natasha right behind you.

   “Sit down kotenok(kitten)” she instructs, her tone softer than what you're used to

   You do as you're told, relaxing into the small sofa in their room as Wanda heads into the bathroom and Natasha rifles through their closet. You unintentionally doze off as you wait and the two women briefly contemplate allowing you a small nap before they decide that you’d be better off and more comfortable once cleaned up and out of your uniform.

  “Y/n…Wake up sweet girl” Wanda coos, as she gently shakes you

   Your eyes strain to open, “Sorry guys”

   “It’s alright. You've had a long day.” Wanda says, sitting down beside you, “Let's get you clean.”

   She brings the washcloth up to your face first and Nat smiles as she watches you practically melt at the feeling. The brunette softly scrubs your face, careful to not agitate any of the small scrapes as she rubs the sweat and dirt from your face. 

   “There we go. I knew your beautiful face was under all that grime” 

   You blush slightly, and you know with as close as both women are that they've seen it, yet neither tease you for it, “Thanks Wans”

   She smiles and nods, “Give me your arm”

   You do so, watching with sleepy eyes as she cleans your left forearm before moving onto your right one. Youd been so focused on her movements that you hadn’t realized Nat had momentarily left in order to prepare the bed for them.

   “She all clean, detka(baby)?”

   Wanda nods, “Yup. Clean and ready for bed.”

   You assume that's your queue to leave and shuffle as you prepare to stand but the redhead is quick to stop you, “Woah, easy there. We haven't gotten our Y/n time for what feels like ages, so we’re claiming now while you're too tired to protest. Here, go change”

   You look down to see that she's handing you an extra pair of her pajamas and your stomach erupts with butterflies, “Thanks Nat.”

   The two share a smile as you head off to their bathroom to change and Nat helps the younger girl off the sofa, “Go ahead and get into bed detka(baby)”

   When you emerge from the bathroom you find Wanda suggled into her side of the bed while Nat sits on the edge of her side. The Russian can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, seeing you in her clothes has her heart speeding up in her chest. 

  “Well, goodnight guys” you tell them, taking a step forward only to be stopped by Nats hands grabbing yours

   “Where do you think you're going, pretty girl?”

   “I-  I uh, the couch?” you stutter out, mentally slapping yourself for becoming so flustered by her words

  Wandda frowns as she sits up, you never used to mind sleeping in their bed with them on movie nights, when had that changed? Why are you so distant now?

   “Y/n?” she hesitates, “Have Tasha and I upset you?”

   “What? No. No, of course not. Everything is fine” you stress, but Nat defeatedly drops your hands as her expression turns sad

   “Everythings not fine, Y/n. This is the first time we’ve been able to spend any time alone with you in nearly a month. You've been avoiding us, and it hurts”

   “Just please tell us what we did so we can fix it.” Wanda practically begs, “We miss having you around. We miss you.”

   “You guys haven’t done anything. I promise.”

   “It doesn’t feel that way” the Russian mumbles, and your guilt returns ten fold

   “Ok. I probably should have said something sooner, but i didn't know how” you sigh, “I still don’t, but you guys don’t deserve to be left wondering”

   You stand there for a moment, nervously picking at your fingers as you try to figure out what words are best to use to explain everything. But your anxiety is getting the better of you, and you can’t blame it. I mean how are you supposed to tell your two best friends, who are a couple, that you love them.

   Wandas eyes widened as unbeknownst to you, your thoughts had become incredibly loud. But she doesn’t want you to panic, and your anxiety is already quite high, so she decides to not let it be known that she’d heard you. Instead she gets out of bed and slowly approaches you, grasping your hands with hers once she's close enough.

   “Whatever it is Y/n, you can tell us. I promise it’ll be ok” she assures, squeezing your hands for added emphasis.

      Heat rushes to your cheeks as you think about the prospect of saying the words out loud, but the way Wanda reassures you gives you some courage, “I um, I-  I love you both. In a more than friends kind of way.”

   “Oh kotenok(kitten)” Natasha coos as you glue your eyes to the floor, and she quickly gets to her feet to join the two of you. She grabs your chin and tilts it up so you're looking at her, “That's something you never had to hide from us. Because we feel the same, don’t we detka(baby)?”

   Your eyes widen in disbelief and you look to the other woman for confirmation, “You guys love me?”

   “We do, we love you Y/n” Wanda admits, smiling wide

   “So very much” Natasha adds, wearing a matching smile of her own and she can wait no longer, “Can we kiss you?”

    You eagerly nod and she brings her lips to yours. It's everything you thought it would be, fierce and full of passion and it quickly takes your breath away. As soon as she pulls away from you Wanda replaces her on your lips. Her kiss too is just as you expected, tender and full of love. Once it ends the brunette pulls you into a hug, which Nat joins.

   You let out a happy relieved laugh as their arms wrap around your body and you easily sink into them. They can feel just how exhausted you are, so despite the wonderful discovery the three of you have made, they know that their first priority is letting you get your needed rest.

   “Come on malysh(baby)” Wanda says, breaking up the group hug, “It’s very late and you need sleep”

  “She's right. We can talk more about this tomorrow” Nat adds, ushering you over to the bed

  This time you don’t argue, you climb right in and get settled in your spot in the middle of the bed so you can be between the two of them. Wanda happily joins you, snuggling closely as she pulls you against her. Nat smiles as she joins you but instead of snuggling close she leans on her elbow, her other hand cupping your face.

   She gives you another kiss, “Love you”

   “Love you too Natty” you sleepily mumble, making her heart swell. You then turn to Wanda to let her have a kiss, “Love you Wans”

   “Love you too, sweetheart” she whispers, brushing a hand through your hair, “Sleep well”

   You end up falling asleep before they even finish pulling the covers up over you. They both scoot closer, each wrapping an arm across your midsection to ensure you remain close.

   “Our pretty girl” Nat mumbles as she nuzzles her face against your neck

   Wanda does the same on your other side, “All ours”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm @zoomdeathknight

[babydollmarauders]

MINE — TREVOR ZEGRAS

request: “Hi! I love your work! <3 Can you make a little comfort fic with Trevor? Like someone said something nasty about the reader and Trevor's relationship like he's not good enough for her and that he couldn't please her like he could, so Trevor gets all protective and fights him and when he comes home, he's all cuddly and clingy because he's scared that the reader is gonna leave him?”

summary: in which y/n sees two new sides of Trevor: protectiveness and fear.

warnings: profanity, fighting

notes: i don’t really know how i feel about this one. i definitely don’t think angst is really my strong suit, but i tried! p.s. i drew a very minimal and light inspiration from Mine by Taylor Swift for this one.

at this point i feel like it’s a universal experience among girls to have a guy friend with an obvious crush on you but you don’t like them that way.

for me, that guy is my friend, Drew. he and i became friends in high school, and when we both enrolled in the same college, i was excited to have a close friend there with me. but in our freshman year things started standing out to me more, the looks that Drew sent me from across the room, the way that he would glare down any guy who so much as looked at me, the way he was quick to drop any other plans in order to hang out with me. and then in sophomore year, i noticed the continuous compliments, the increased touching, and the way that he would start commenting about how ‘special’ our friendship is.

suffice it to say that i was hoping he would get the hint and back off when i started dating my boyfriend Trevor. but now it’s been a year and he’s only gotten more obvious with his advances.

which brings us to tonight. my friend, Lila is hosting an early graduation party at her house and of course our entire friend group is here, including Drew, who’s already drunk, an hour into the party. i’m standing in the living room in a circle of my close friends, all talking about how glad they are to be free from college. we all worked hard to graduate a semester early, and we may have only gotten associate’s degrees but it doesn’t change how done we were with school by the time we got out of our last ever class yesterday. my gaze bounces between my friends and the front door, waiting for my boyfriend to arrive. he just got back from a week long roadie yesterday and i’ve yet to see him since arrived back in town, so he agreed to come and stay an hour before taking me back to his apartment.

“girl, you look like a crazy person with your eyes twitching back and forth like that!” Lila laughs, nudging into my shoulder with her own. “calm down, hun! i’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

“yeah, i know. i’m just excited. i haven’t seen him in eight days.” my smile is weak and it only dims when i catch sight of Drew rolling his eyes. he’s never been one to keep a filter when he drinks. but it’s forgotten when i glance back towards the door and my eyes lock with the subject of our discussion. i bounce on my feet a couple times, waiting for him to make his way over, but i eventually lose my patience when i see him get stopped by a guy. who, based on his passionate gestures, i’m assuming is a fan of the Anaheim Ducks. i watch as Trevor smiles and nods, exchanging words with the random who holds his attention, and i know if i don’t get over there soon it could potentially never end. Trevor could talk about hockey all night if someone would let him, which i have on numerous occasions. sending one more smile over to my friends, i step towards my boyfriend, but i’m rooted in place by a hand wrapping around my wrist, pulling me back.

“what are you even doing with him y/n/n?” i spin back around at Drew’s voice.

“what?” i pack a mighty bite into my one worded response, but Drew obviously doesn’t seem to catch it.

“he’s not good enough for you. you literally just said he left you alone for eight days.” he looks up and scowls over my shoulder, probably looking at Trevor. “i could treat you so much better than that pretty boy does.”

i’m stunned into silence at his outburst. my lips open and close, and i’m begging for something, anything, to come out. he’s never been this up front about his feelings for me, and i had naively hoped that he never would be. taking my silence as an invitation to keep going, Drew speaks once again.

“could definitely please you better than he could too.” my blood boils, and i swear i see red. but before i can jump to the defense of my boyfriend, i’m lightly pushed to the side and i look over in time to see Trevor barreling past me, straight to Drew. He shoves him but Drew’s hand is still gripped on my wrist, making him pull me forward when he stumbles.

“get your hand off my girlfriend before i remove it for you, asshole.” Trevor’s voice is low and he speaks between clenched teeth. “i’ve put up with your pining glances and your barely subtle remarks for this long, because she’s too nice to say it to your face, but i will. she’s not interested in you. she never will be. and the fact that she’s made that clear multiple times and you still won’t back off doesn’t make you ‘persistent’. it makes you a creep.”

Drew lets go of my arm but it only takes one look at him to guess his next move, and before i can warn Trevor or pull him out of the way, Drew’s fist connects with his face. i gasp, my hand flying up to cover my open mouth, and feel myself being pulled back from the brewing fight by dainty hands. Lila’s, i assume.

Trevor doesn’t go down, instead he just laughs, like Drew’s punch was nothing but a bee sting. Drew’s face pinches in confusion at Trevor’s reaction, but he doesn’t get much time to ponder it before Trevor throws his own punch directly at Drew’s nose. i hear the crunch before Drew’s body crumples to the floor in two seconds flat. my wide eyes scan the scene in front of me, my boyfriend shaking out his hand, no doubt bruises will line his knuckles in the morning, and blood dripping down Drew’s face.

“you can talk your shit about me, you can curse my name, hit me, i don’t care. but you keep your hands off my damn girlfriend.” Trevor spits out, looking down his nose at my now ex-friend, before he turns around. he takes ahold of my hand and marches out of the house with his head held high. i glance back at my other friends, my eyes still as wide as saucers and my lips mouthing silent apologies. Lila waves her hand in a dismissive motion, shrugging her shoulders, shaking her head, and mouthing her own words of ‘it’s okay’.

Trevor leads me to his car, opening the passenger door for me as if it’s just another date night, before jogging around and sliding into the drivers seat.

the drive back to his place is done in silence, and i make no attempts to break it. i can feel the energy radiating off of him. no longer hostile, but still tense. when we arrive, i trail behind him into his apartment. Trevor walks into his bedroom, mumbling something about getting changed and grabbing me a change of clothes, and i stand in the living room. his friend/teammate/roommate, Jamie, sits on the couch, locked into a video game but spares a quick glance at me.

“hey, you guys are back early.” his focus is immediately turned back to his game, and i’m not sure he expects a response but i reply anyways.

“yeah. it’s, uh, been a night.” Trevor is back quickly, handing me a pair of sweats that i left here and one of his t-shirts.

“you can go ahead and get changed and then we can watch a movie in my room.” he plants a kiss on my forehead, his lips lingering for a few seconds before he pulls back. i nod and walk down the hallway to his room, closing the door behind me. i take a couple minutes to change before opening the door and peeking my head out.

“you can come in, Trev.” i call down the hallway, and it’s not but a second before i see him jogging down the hall. he enters the room and jumps onto the middle of the bed, patting the space beside him.

“come cuddle with me. tell me everything i missed while i was gone.” i crawl up the bed, snuggling close into his arms and he tightens them around me, pressing my face to his chest.

“we talked every day.” i laugh. “i think you know more about what happened while you were gone than some of the people who were actually here.”

Trevor chuckles for a few moments before he speaks again, his voice somber.

“you know i hate having to leave you, right?” i look up at his face, about to make a joke but see the guilt-ridden expression on his face.

“yeah, no, i know that. it’s your job, Trev. does it suck being away from you? sure. but you’re good at what you do and the team needs you.” i raise my hand to his face, brushing my thumb against his cheek.

“are you upset? about what i did?” he looks so fragile, like my next words could make or break him.

“what? punching Drew? no. honestly, it brought me some relief.” i confess. “i’ve always been too afraid to outright reject him. i never gave any reason to think i liked him, so i thought maybe he would take the hint that i didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him. but obviously i was wrong. i feel way more guilty than i am upset. if i had just told him i didn’t like him, there wouldn’t’ve been a reason for you to have to fight him.”

“don’t.” the word comes out stern. his voice dropping into what almost seems like a growl. “don’t blame yourself. you may not have explicitly stated that you didn’t like him like that, but you showed it over and over again in your actions. i’ve seen the way you pull away from his touches, how you make up excuses to distance yourself when he says something too romantic, the faces you pull when he talks about how ‘special’ your friendship is. not to mention the fact that you have a boyfriend, and yet he still pulled that shit.”

i nod along to his words and press my head back onto his chest.

“so, you’re really not mad at me?” he asks.

“i’m really not mad at you. why would i be? you protected me. i’m grateful for you.” he gives me a brief squeeze, laying a kiss on the top of my head.

“i know how long you guys have been friends. i don’t know, i guess i thought maybe you would be mad that i may have ruined your friendship with him. i know you’ve chosen me before but-” his drops into a whisper before he speaks again. “i thought you might choose him over me this time.”

i pull back, shifting up in the bed more so that my face is directly in line with his. cradling his face with my hands and placing my forehead against his, i look into his eyes.

“i’ll never leave you alone.” i whisper. “Trev, you mean so much to me. is it gonna be different not having Drew as a friend anymore? yeah, i’ve known him since i was fourteen. but by now, with how he and i’s friendship was going, it never would’ve lasted. but you, you make me so happy. you make me feel seen, and heard, and loved. i love waking up next you, and going on coffee dates, and our movie nights. i love talking with you about stupid things, and staying up listening to you talk about your games. i love celebrating wins with you, and i love that you let me be there for you after a loss. i never loved him the way i love you. i would always choose you.”

[drivinmeinsane]

K + touching + 34

※ Prompt: Touches // 34. Washing the other's body // K x GN!Reader ※ Word count: 1168 ※ Author's Note: I threw my 400 word limit right out of the window with this one, but that's alright.

A knock on the front door rouses you from the couch. Leaving the television playing, you cross the small studio apartment and cautiously peer through the peephole. You can make out the blurred shape of your neighbor from down the hall through the aged glass.

Surprised, you immediately flip the lock and open the door. Whatever reasoning has led him to your doorstep must be important. He never makes social calls.

“Hey, wh—” the words die in your mouth once you catch proper sight of your unexpected visitor.

You’re no stranger to seeing K at his worst—filthy with gore and oil tainted, barren soil—but the state of him now gives you pause. He is hunched over, clearly favoring one side. The replicant has had a rough night. Most of them are.

They run him hard at the precinct, you know. The whole damn city is aware of what the LAPD gets up to with their skinners. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve accompanied him up the stairs after crossing paths with him on the streets when you both are off work, patiently taking the ascent step by step while he struggles to not let on how severely his job weighs both on his mind and his body. He pays the toll for his existence every moment he’s alive, but doesn’t everyone who has been left behind on this spinning rock?

K doesn’t make an attempt to smile. He merely stares at you with tired eyes.

“My shower is broken. I…” he pauses, rolls the words over his tongue like a broken marble, considers how much he can ask for, “was hoping I could use yours. Please.”

“Of course,” you agree immediately.

Stepping back to give him space, you gesture for him to come in. As he passes by, you realize that he is not wearing his jacket, only a grimy t-shirt and pants. His boots look hastily tied, sloppy. He must have redressed in his dirty clothes once he realized he wasn’t going to get clean at his place. His hands are empty. The replicant must have expected to be turned down.

You turn. K is clearly waiting for permission to move around the small unit. The overhead light catches an abrasion on the side of his cheek, gleaming off the fresh blood. It draws attention to the battered state of him.

It makes your heart ache.

“Won’t the water pressure hurt? It’ll take a few cycles to get all of that off.”

His response to your concern is to shrug. He is too used to the expectation of pain to give it more than a passing thought. A flash of discomfort tightens the corners of his eyes with the casual movement. Barely aware of your own actions, worry overtakes you and you move into his space. Your hand hovers over the slope of his shoulder, not quite resting on the dark mess soaked into the fabric of his shirt. It doesn’t all look to be industrial grime. K doesn’t sway away from your closeness, even as you hear his breath catch once before settling back in its steady pattern.

“I can do it,” you offer, unthinkingly.

“You can do what?” His voice is soft in that characteristic way of his, hard edges smoothed off into something helplessly vulnerable. It reminds you that he was created to be broken.

“Wash you.” At his non-response, you add, “It’ll hurt less.”

A sigh. The shift of his boots on the tile floor. He is careful to not step on your rug lest he mark it. You’re sure he can sense how badly you want to help him. K was made to pick up on human cues. Finally—

“Alright.”

As you lead the officer into the cramped space of the bathroom, you try to not feel like he’s the one doing you a favor. You drag a threadbare towel off the shelf and drape it in the bottom of the shower to pad the inhospitable plastic before gathering a battered bucket. The handle has long since been lost to time.

At your side, K strips with a resignedly methodical practice you don’t want to think about. He is not shy about exposing his body to you, giving the air of this being a familiar request. It makes something nameless and acidic coat your mouth. He is careful to fold his removed clothing and set it neatly aside.

Naked, the replicant lowers himself to his knees onto the thinly padded shower floor. Once seated, he interlaces his fingers and bows his head. He waits patiently for you to finish filling the bucket at the sink and gather a scrap of towel to use a rag. The ‘9 is the picture of practiced supplication. Someone really has trained him for more than just killing his own kind.

You find your own place on the floor outside of the shower. You wet the cloth and rub a bar of soap over it to form a lather. With nothing else left to do but swallow down your nervousness, you start the process of getting him clean.

He lets out a sharp exhale, as if punched, when the first contact between you is made. Steeling yourself, you pass the cloth over his uninjured shoulder. You’re careful to keep your touch gentle. Grime slicks down his arm in soap-swirled trails.

“You don’t have to do this,” K offers. His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s trembling. His knuckles are going white from how tightly he’s gripping onto his own fingers.

“I don’t,” you agree. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

The replicant shakes his head. “I don’t.”

And so you continue, careful around his bruises and scrapes. You gently work the rag over his short hair, soaping it. Chasing the cloth with your hand, you work your fingers through the strands. Your fingertips brush over his scalp. Unconsciously, you’re sure, the replicant is pressing into your touch. It makes you wonder when he’s last been handled with kindness untainted by any other motive.

Has he ever? you think, disquieted.

Your chain of thought is interrupted by a sudden, heaving shudder. K attempts to smother a desperate noise behind his clenched jaw, curling in on himself even further. You realize then that he is crying. Tears are escaping from behind his closed eyelids and joining the water speckled across his upper thighs. This had been too much. At the realization, you drop the washcloth. It lands on the floor with a wet thud. It’s loud over the muffled sounds of the replicant in front of you.

Not caring about how wet your shirt gets, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him. He turns in towards you as if he were a plant in one of the Wallace greenhouses reaching towards the glow of the artificial light. K allows himself to accept the comfort.

Neither of you speak while he sobs himself ragged in the freely offered shelter of your body.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Welcome to Burlesque

paring: Gwyn x Azriel | type: fluff | words: 6,8k | warnings: none; for @gwynrielweeksofficial day AU, thank you so much for organising this great event💛 read on ao3

Show a little more Show a little less Add a little smoke Welcome to Burlesque

Maybe this idea is stupid? Maybe it is incredibly stupid. 

“Och!” Gwyn thinks and wants to throw her head back and groan out loud, but she is in public, so she growls internally. She curls her fingers tighter around the pole she is holding onto in order to not tumble around in the bus. Her feets are planted wide on the ground, and for a moment she hopes to just grow roots so she never has to leave this bus.

Why did she even come up with such a stupid idea?

Well, Gwyn thinks and blows out a long breath, it technically wasn’t my idea.

No. It was Nesta and Emerie‘s idea. Nesta and Emerie’s brilliant idea. Gwyn loves her best friends, more than anything in this world, but this idea was stupid. Still is. And why she agreed…it will forever be a mystery to her. 

Doubts, doubts she hoped to shove away, start to bubble up inside her mind and make her stomach coil. Despite being determined and often rather confident, Gwyn worries she will not be good enough and make a fool out of herself. It is not easy to let go off such thoughts, even harder to fight against them—

So captured by her uncertainty and the whirlwind of thoughts within her mind, Gwyn nearly misses her stop. And honestly, the thought of missing it doesn’t sound too appalling. But something, almost like a little pull on her chest, makes her move, her steps treading carefully over the floor of the bus when she leaves and then over the in-ice-covered streets.

She could be at home now, wrapped up in thick blankets, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, watching the Idol or The Voice, day-dreaming about a future where she finds herself standing on a stage.

Everything you dream ofBut never can possessNothing's what it seemsWelcome to Burlesque

Tendrils of breath curl in front of her face when she exhales a long breath — maybe the day-dreaming is soon over and her wishes actually become reality? Because what she is about to do…

Gwyn rubs her gloved hands against each other. Her heart is beating rapidly, her stomach coiling even more, as nervousness grows rapidly within her chest.

She stops in front of the large sign that one can see for miles - aglow and shining brightly, inviting. The door below is similarly lit, the lettering on top of bright.

If she left now, no one would know she was even here. She could just tell Emerie and Nesta that she got a headache and had to stay home. What a brilliant idea, Gwyn thinks, but—

“Hey, sweetie!” A lovely female voice sounds behind her and Gwyn spins around. The blond woman now moving past her, simultaneously uses her key to unlock the door and shrugs off her coat.

“I’m Morrigan, but everyone calls me Mor. I sit at the entrance. You must be Gwyn. Come in, don’t want you freezing to death out here.” Mor holds the door open for Gwyn, who can only follow her invitation, lips parted slightly. 

There is no way back now – and how the hell, does Mor know her name? 

For a split second entertains the thought of running, but then she realises how stupid that would look. She tries to summon every little ounce of confidence, letting it settle into her chest, inhaling one deep, long breath. 

“Hi, pleasure to meet you.” 

Tossing her coat onto the counter and smoothing out her hair, Morrigan turns to her again, “The pleasure is fully mine. Your coat.”

Gwyn places her bag down and hands her coat to the blond woman. 

“Emmy, already told me you’d come and about your incredible talent. I can’t wait to hear you sing.”

“She did?!” Gwyn asks, slightly overwhelmed.

“She did.” The blond woman flashes her a bright smile.

Morrigan is beautiful, Gwyn thinks, her smile radiant, her red dress stunning and she starts to question her own choice of clothing - leggings and a sweater.

“Are you ready?”

She has no time to answer— her expression must have given her away before Gwyn even had a chance to open her mouth. So Morrigan steps into her, her manicured hands landing atop Gwyn’s shoulders.

“I‘m sure you will do amazing. Emmy showed me a few of your videos, you are incredibly talented. You will set this place on fire.” Morrigan grins from one ear to the other, her smile so radiant it rivals spotlights.

But when her lips turn into a softer, more delicate smile, the blond female asks a question that sends a pang of hurt right into Gwyn’s heart.

“Do you have someone you want to make proud? Or someone you want to prove something to? It is always a nice motivation for auditions.” Mor drops her hands and turns toward the staircase. “Whenever I auditioned for modeling jobs, I always kept in mind that I wanted to prove to my father that this is my life and my decisions and studying at Harvard truly wasn���t for me.”

Gwyn only half listens, and offers the blond female a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She is a little unfocused, now that her thoughts start to wander after Mor mentioned “someone you want to make proud”.

Because in her life there is —was— someone she wants to make proud. Her twin sister. Her late twin sister. Catrin Berdara. She died in a car crash six years ago, a memory that still haunts Gwyn, a pain that will never fade and that has left a wound within her heart that can never be healed. She has learned to live with the loss of her sister, but that doesn’t mean it the day hasn’t left its scars.

Someone you want to make proud. A new sense of determination suddenly fills Gwyn when she replays the words in her mind. She wants to make her sister proud and this thought truly motivates her — Morrigan is right. She is doing this for herself, but also for her sister. Catrin loved to watch her sing, loved when she sang for them, and now Gwyn is going to make her the proudest sister ever. 

This thought also gives enough self-confidence to straighten her posture and follow Morrigan down the staircase with confident steps, her shoulders squared.

Within seconds, Gwyn is absolutely mesmerised by the place, all the flickering, glowing lights, the immaculate decor. It doesn’t look cheap or tacky - everything here looks luxurious, lush, formidable. Absolutely amazing.

Her lips part slightly when her gaze trails from the bar to the stage - the stage she would maybe soon perform on. The stage a few women are currently performing on. The one in the middle is the leader, Gwyn knows and then her eyes move to her best friend. There is Nesta! 

And she looks absolutely breathtaking and amazing. She hasn’t found Emerie yet, but she might be somewhere in the back, restocking things for the bar. 

Excitement slowly seeps into every fibre of her body, and she feels anticipation. Maybe it wasn’t such a stupid idea after all. And maybe working in the same place as her friends, doing the thing she loves most, is quite amazing. 

Something there in the darkIs playing with your mindIt's not the end of daysIt's just the bump and grindShow a little moreShow a little lessAdd a little smokeWelcome to Burlesque

Gwyn watches in astonishment, how coordinated everything is, how beautiful the woman in the middle sings, and how gracefully everyone dances. It is a stunning show and suddenly she can’t wait to be part of it. She wants to be part of this incredible group!

Okay, Gwyn thinks, maybe this was not a stupid idea at all. She wants to be part of it, within the seconds that follow small fractions of her nervousness start to fade, dissipating into thin air.

She knows the dresses they are wearing are very short and very revealing, and with some things that happened to her in the past, it scared her a little when Nesta told her about it. But her best friend took some part of the fear from her - they have a bodyguard here, and he is the best (according to Nesta also in other places aka the bedroom) and he always makes sure the girls are 100% safe. No one ever gets to touch them or only look at them the wrong way. The bodyguard will immediately kick them out.

And this comforts her. A lot. 

“There you go. I need to head back to work, checking guest lists and stuff.” Mor brushes her hand over Gwyn’s shoulder. “If you need me, I am up in the booth,” —Mor points upstairs again— “until then, chin up, shoulders squared, smile and sweep them off your feet with your talent Gwyn.”

Gwyn thanks her and watches her leave, drawing in some deep inhales, and closing her eyes — some mind-stilling techniques she has read about in a book that actually help her a lot.

After a moment, Gwyn places her bag on one of the barstools, eyes aglow as they dance over every single person on the stage, then once again lock onto Nesta. This is fully her thing, Gwyn knows this. Her best friend enjoys every little moment of this dance performance and she can’t wait to share this happiness with her. 

Most of the former doubts have all of a sudden vanished and it even leaves her surprised herself. But it is a good feeling, a wonderful and very welcome feeling.

A smile blooms on Gwyn‘s face, her mind immediately memorising the song, the performance, the–

“We are still closed,” a velvety and at the same time cold voice says behind her, startling Gwyn so much she nearly jumps a little.

Gwyn spins around, and her breath catches. 

A man, tall, strongly built, and with beauty that is beyond her emerges from the shadows of the room behind the bar. He holds a towel in his hands, drying himself off, his black shirt is slightly unbuttoned at the top showing some tendrils of ink on his tanned skin. 

Gwyn meets his eyes and in a voice that is much stronger than she has expected it to be, she says, “I am not here to watch.”

The handsome man casually tosses the towel over his shoulder, gaze slowly running over her. It is not in a sensual way, or in one that would make her uncomfortable. No, he is curious. He is assessing her. 

Casually, he leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms over his broad chest and the corner of his louth kicks up.

“So you are here—”

“To perform. You are going to audition for the lead role, aren’t you?.”

A man, even taller than the other, appears next to his colleague and Gwyn immediately knows who he is. 

Mr Man-bun-devilish-smile-stunning-body-and-god-between-the-sheets, or simpler Cass. Or…Nesta‘s friend with benefits.

Gwyn has heard a lot about him. And has heard him a lot already as well – Cassian is not the calmest in the bedroom, that much she knows. Now at least she finally has a face to Nesta‘s secret lover who also slipped out of their flat before she got up. (The pictures of him on Nesta‘s phone don’t count.)

“That is right,” Gwyn beams, I‘m here to audition. Music has by then settled into every cell of her body, it nearly makes her sway her hips, and she knows it hasn’t been a bad decision. Her best friends just know her too well, even though she might not have thought so herself at first.

“I heard you have a lot of talent, Gwyn.”

She concludes, her friends definitely share too much about her…but she offers Cassian a polite smile and then thanks him. 

“Are you ready?”

Gwyn grins, and despite the kernel of nervousness still deeply-rooted within her chest, she says, “Born ready.”

It steals a small laugh from the male she still doesn’t know the name of. Cassian chortles loudly and says, “Good, because here comes Ri.” Cassian winks at her and turns toward the staircase. Gwyn has no time to ask “who?” because—

“You must be, Gwyn. I‘ve heard so much about you, and your talent. I can’t wait to hear you on the stage.” 

When she turns, Gwyn is met with a tall female in her early forties, her long black hair cascading down her front in loose waves, her make-up immaculate, just like the grace with which she walks, the long robe revealing hints of her long legs.

“I‘m Rita, the owner of this club.”

“Gwyn,” she reaches out her hand and Rita shakes it, the smile on her lips widening.

“You are ready for this, Gwyn, and everything that comes along with it.”

Gwyn holds her gaze, and inhales a deep breath. She is going to do this. For her best friends. For her sister. For herself. She can do this. She has talent, she knows this, and this might be a big step, but definitely one into the right direction.

In a voice that is confident, she says, “Yes, I am.”

“Then enough of the chit-chat. Get onto the stage, and show us what you got!”

Rita claps her hands twice and all girls stop dancing, and finally Nesta spots her, her eyes widening in delight and a joyful noise slips through her lips.

“You came,” she nearly shouts and beams at Gwyn.

I did, Gwyn thinks, and returns her best friend’s expression. 

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“Good luck. Show her what you got!” Azriel says and braces his hands on the cool countertop, watching how Gwyn turns back to him, a beautiful, barely-there smile on her in-freckles-covered cheeks.

“Thank you,” she answers politely and then follows after Rita. Azriel’s gaze stays on her, almost already a little enthralled by her, by her beauty—

“That looks like a severe crush to me, and that after, hmmm,” —Emerie, finally having emerged from the storage room, looks at her wrist, at her imaginary watch, and then back at Azriel— “after mere seconds. Congrats, Azzy.”

She flashes him a wicked grin, and Azriel tosses an ice cube at her. “I don’t have a crush,” he protests. 

“Of course, and you also definitely don’t look at my best friend like she is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.” Emerie rolls her eyes in a dramatic manner.

Gwyn is most definitely the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, Azriel thinks, but in a voice, tinged with annoyance, he says, “I don’t have a crush, Em.”

“Whatever you say, lover boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, but has to grin. When Emerie laughs loudly, he stretches out his arm and curls it around her shoulder, putting her in a playful headlock.

But his arms loosen just a moment later and drop to his side when—

Oh-oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeahI get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, no, no

He has expected her voice to be good, but that good? No way. Azriel’s mouth falls open, eyes widening, his lips feeling a little dry. 

“Fuck,” he breathes and hears Emerie giggle next to him. When he slowly turns to look at her, he sees the woman watch with nothing but pride and absolute amazement how her best friend performs.

“She is incredible,” Emerie whispers and folds her hand over her heart, tears glistening in her dark eyes. 

“She is,” Azriel agrees in the same breathy voice. “She really is.”

I just wanna tell you right now that II believeI really do believe thatSomething's got a hold on me, yeah

Azriel watches the rest of the performance in astonishment and can’t stop himself from grinning when Rita claps loudly and officially announces that Gwyn got the job, as they would never find a better option in the entire city.

He also watches how her friends rush to her, embracing her tightly, all three of them cheering, and jumping around like crazy hens. He finds it amusing, and aöthough he won’t approach her anymore today, he will try to catch her tomorrow, maybe talk a little with her.

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“Congrats, by the way,” Azriel leans against the door, holding it open for Gwyn. Gwyn raises a brow, a bright smile on her lips. 

“On what?” she asks, but actually knows the answer. 

“On landing the role,” Azriel chuckles and Gwyn walks past him, her scent immediately hitting him – of waterlilies and a lake after rain, fresh and wonderful. He loves it. 

“You are the barkeeper here right?”

“A barkeeper, but yes.” Azriel follows her down the staircase and Gwyn looks at him over her shoulder. “Em’s your boss, right?”

The man dips his chin, the smirk not fading. “She is and she really loves to emphasise this.”

Of course, Emerie does, Gwyn thinks and has to giggle to herself. They continue the rest down to the bar and stage sharing a bit of small talk, mostly very superficial things, but it is a nice start to get to know each other and for the little spark between the ignite and start to glow brightly within their hearts. 

Just like the previous day, Azriel once again watches Gwyn perform, his sole focus on her, and not on the other women around her. Of course, Nesta catches him staring and winks at him across the room and also Emerie pats his shoulder. 

“Not a crush,” she chuckles when she passes him with a tray full of freshly washed glasses. “Sort them in.”

“Pulling rank?” Azriel raises a brow.

Emerie smirks, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Always. I need to make sure my men really work and don’t just drool over beautifully red-haired singers.” She winks at him and turns away, leaving Azriel alone. Alone to stare and day-dream about Gwyn’s utterly beautiful voice. He is mesmerised by it, absolutely – she is a siren and he a sailor, fully enthralled by her angelic voice, following her out into the deep blue sea. The sea – her eyes somehow remind him of an ocean, wild and free, and–

Azriel shakes his head. Definitely not a crush…right. Who is he fooling? But falling so easily? After such a minimal amount of time?

“Good god!” Azriel expresses and picks up the first glass to dry it off. He hates to admit it, but he knows Emerie is right. He truly has a crush. 

And this crush doesn’t get better. No, it only gets worse. 

He can’t stop himself from marveling at her every day she returns for practice. She is gorgeous and he loves how her whole demeanor changes when she is up on the stage. It feels like a weight falls from her shoulders and on the stage she moves freely, wildly, joyfully. Like a bird in the wind. She is flying and nothing can stop her. 

And despite her nervousness before her first performance, and the snarky remark from her rival colleague Merrill, who says that Gwyn is not ready yet, she turns in a free spirit once she starts to perform. 

The seven sisters got nothing on himI'm talking about a lover who's fast as the windEveryone will talk about how he got me fixedIt ain't voodoo, it's just that twistHe will be the greatest lover that ever come to passDon Juan ain't got the half the chanceHe's a tough lover 

With each day, and every performance that follows, the weight seems to fully leave her shoulders until Gwyn is nothing more than a radiant soul, full of brightness and happiness whenever she steps foot into the building. 

Azriel finds himself drawn to her, and is truly thankful that Gwyn seems to feel the same. She often seeks him out after a performance, just for a short talk, or a short drink, before she heads home with Nesta, them giggling and whispering giddy while departing and Azriel wants nothing more than to know what they are talking about. If they are talking about him. 

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“You’re sure it is alright?”

“100%!” Azriel hears Gwyn assure Nesta. He places the last glass down and then takes off his apron, placing it neatly on the counter. 

“I hate letting you go home alone.” Nesta curls her around Gwyn’s shoulders.

“I will be safe.” Gwyn places her hand on Nesta’s forearm, then pats it. “It isn’t that far.”

With a sigh, Nesta steps away. “You call me when you arrive at home.”

“I don’t think you will be…available,” Gwyn snickers, and tilts her head into Cassian’s direction. He is already impatiently waiting at the staircase. 

“Then text me. I need to know you are home and safe.” Nesta kisses Gwyn’s cheek and finally fully steps away from her, heading towards Cassian. Gwyn shows her thumbs up and Nesta nods, letting Cassian wrap his arm around her and then they leave. 

Leave them alone. Just the two of them. Rita is still somewhere around, but probably in her office, so she doesn’t count at this moment. 

“I am also heading home now,” Gwyn tells Azriel and awkwardly slides off her stool. 

“I’m taking you.” Azriel bends down and then straightens up, holding a motorcycle helmet in his hand. “Allow me to give you a ride. I really don’t want you to go home alone. At night.”

As much as Gwyn wants to say yes, she can’t. Something restrains her from doing so. It might be the close proximity a motorcycle provides, and the thought of having to be so utterly close to Azriel, to a man, or her nervousness about her growing feelings for him, but she can’t say yes. At this moment, it is simply not possible. Being so close to a man, letting a man so close to her, is still not so easy. It has gotten better over time, much better. She doesn’t fear Azriel, or Cassian or the men who come to watch the show, but crossing a line of distance…this is something else. 

Something that still makes her feel uneasy. 

Azriel rounds the counter, giving her a look that seems a little impatient. “Yes?”

“Thank you very much, but you really don’t need to.”

“I know,” Azriel says, his voice soft, “but I want to.”

And then it happens. To quick. So quick that it startles her. She doesn’t want to flinch. Not because of him. Not because of his touch. But with the surprise and her already being tense due to the conversation before, she cringes the slightest bit and prays that Azriel hasn’t noticed. 

Her heart slams into her belly when she takes in the look in his eyes – he did notice. Gwyn can barely stand to face him a moment longer. She can’t bear to see the hurt within his hazel eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” Gwyn says quickly, her voice hushed. “I need to leave now.” She heads for the staircase. Before the first step, she turns back to Azriel and over her shoulder she says, “This has nothing to do with you. I want you to know this. This only has to do with myself.” 

Then she is gone, leaving Azriel alone in the dim room, in his heart a little crack and in his mind nothing but confusion. In the days that follow, things between them feel awkward. They both want to apologize, but they don't know how to start. They mostly avoid each other until Gwyn decides to take the first step and talk to Azriel…

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“You sing?!” Gwyn’s voice is joyful and surprised, eyes full of brightness. 

“No, I don’t.” Azriel furrows his brows. 

Gwyn puts her hands on her hips. “I‘m not dumb, Azriel, I heard you. You were totally singing in the storage room.”

His gaze meets hers. “I can‘t sing,” he says but Gwyn wants to hear none of it. She shakes her head and smiles.

“You can sing! You should perform with me.”

Azriel’s furrows his forehead, then turns away from her and starts to dry off a glass. Some of their former lightness has returned. He knows they have to talk about what has happened, but right now he is happy that they at least talk again. “I would never sing in public,” Azriel says and places the glass down and picks up a new one. “Sorry, but that will never happen.”

Gwyn sighs dramatically, and lifts her hands only so she can place them on the bar counter. “I guess I‘m going to call you shadowsinger then, only revealing your beautiful singing voice when hidden by darkness.”

She grins in triumph over her invention of the word shadowsinger (the perfect description for him) and it even elicits a small chuckle from Azriel.

He turns to her and an adorable blush blooms high on his cheeks. “You are impossible, Gwyn.” He tosses his damp towel at her, but Gwyn elegantly catches it and pokes her tongue out at her colleague, cheeks equally rosy.

But the playfulness fades from her face and a more sincere expression settles there. “I actually came here to apologsie to you, Azriel.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” Azriel straightens up and once again tosses the towel over his shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. I touched you without your consent.”

Her heart warms at his kindness, at the understanding and empathy within his hazel eyes. So, Gwyn takes a step forward and places her palms on the cool surface of the counter. She smiles at him, and closes her eyes. “I flinched, and I want you to know that this wasn’t because of you, Azriel.” Slowly, her lids open and she meets his gaze. Azriel is already looking at her, patiently waiting for her to continue. 

“It had nothing to do with you.”

“I startled you and–”

“Can we maybe sit down somewhere and talk?”

Gwyn has specifically chosen to get to work a little earlier this day so he can talk to him. She wanted to catch Azriel alone and she knew the best time for that would be before work. She wants to let him in, and offer him a proper explanation. She knows that there is something between them. The secret glances, the shy smiles, the spark between them, it is all there. The lightness when they talk, the playfulness, the little teasing every now and then. She most definitely has a crush on him and she can sense that it is vice versa. And she doesn’t want to let this wonderful thing that could be between them be destroyed by her past. 

Enough was taken from her back then. She can’t allow it to have control over her whole life. 

Accepting this job offer here, was one of the first steps into the right direction. This is now the next one. 

Once they are seated, a glass of water in front of both of them thanks to Azriel, Gwyn inhales deeply, closes her eyes and takes a moment to calm her breathing and her mind. And then she is ready to open up. She first tells Azriel about her sister, Catrin. How much she loved her, how they grew up together. And then, when her voice is already hoarse and tears roll down her cheeks, she allows him to learn a part of herself that hardly anyone knows. Apart from Nesta and Emerie, no one knows actually. So this is a major step, but one that feels good. She likes to let Azriel in, open up to him, offer him an explanation for why she flinched. But it is not because she feels the need to do so, she does it because it feels right. Being with him does. Opening up to him does. Letting him in does. 

Azriel stays calm the whole time, lets her talk and listens, his own eyes watering. 

“You are so strong, Gwyn,” he eventually says. Gwyn shakes her head and tears fly away. 

“You are,” Azriel protests. “And the fact that you now stand here, with a smile on your lips, performing every night with nothing but brightness in your soul…I am very proud of you.”

She doesn’t need him to say it, but it also feels damn good and she smiles through her tears and is now the one to reach out, placing her hand atop his. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Thank you for sharing this part of your past with me.” He revels in the touch of her soft skin against his, and that she feels comfortable enough with him to hold his hand. “Thank you for letting me.”

“I know that I can trust you, and this part of myself is safe with you.” Gwyn holds his gaze, neither of them able to look away. Sparks ignite anew between them, their gazes locked, hands still in each other’s hold. 

“Always,” Azriel whispers, and flips over his hand, stroking the back of hers with his thumb. “And so are you. I will make sure nothing ever happens to you again, Gwyn. And so does Cass. You are safe here, you know this.”

“I do,” she hums and leans forward the slightest bit. “I know that I am safe here and that nothing can happen to me here.”

He returns her smile, and it is the most beautiful thing Gwyn has ever seens. Her heart is beating so fast, it is hammering against her rib cage and if they keep looking at each other for a moment longer, she knows it will burst right through her chest. 

“Sometimes…” Gwyn averts her gaze for a moment. “Sometimes the demons are still there. I feel like they linger somewhere in the back of my mind and I can’t always keep them locked away. But it is getting better.” 

When she turns back she finds nothing but understanding on Azriel’s face. “I know exactly what you are talking about,” he tells her, still gently caressing the back of her hand. “But I’ll promise you that together will make them leave forever.”

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“What are you doing?” Gwyn looks over his shoulder and Azriel snatches the notebook close.

“Nothing,” he grumbles, his shoulders tensing. He places his hand atop the little, black book almost like protecting it from her prying eyes.

“Oh, secrets?” Gwyn raises a teasing brow, surrounding him, hands braced on her hips. “Are you writing a song?”

Azriel frowns. “You have practice now.”

“In five minutes.” She grins, and it warms Azriel’s heart. He can't help it, it just makes the corner of his mouth tip up.

“You should warm up before practice,” he answers, voice still flat.

“I‘m already warm.” A hint of fire fills her eyes that would almost knock Azriel off his feet if he weren’t sitting down. 

“Now?” She raises her brows. “Is it a song? Or a poem? Tell me, Azriel, are you one to spout poetry?”

Gwyn places the back of her hand against her forehead, sighing dramatically. “Shall I call you Azriel Shakespeare from now on?”

Chuckling, he places his notebook down and rises to his feet. “You can soon call me yours, Berdara. Go on a date with me. Tomorrow.”

He is smirking, and Gwyn’s heart skips a beat. She feels her cheeks heat, filling with colour. His eyes alone make her knees feel weak, but she won’t give in so easily. 

Tapping her index finger against her chin, she tilts her head to the side. “I would never go out with a colleague and I‘m busy tomorrow.” 

“Come on, it‘s just a date.”

She leans against the dresser behind her, grins and then says, “Nope.” 

Azriel raises a brow. He is not hurt by her answer. It is playful teasing between them and he knows she likes him just as much as he likes her. 

He scoffs and then rolls his eyes. “Go to practice now. And then make the decision.” 

This is playful banter, Gwyn knows this. Azriel would never push her. Not after having learned about her past, and even before. He is a good man, with a good heart. He would never cross a line where she would no longer feel comfortable. 

“My answer is: nope. N.O.P.E.” She puts a stress on each letter, arms now folded over her chest. 

She can’t say yes. Not yet. She doesn’t want to rush things with him. She first wants to get him to know a bit better, and also she wants to make him fight a little. He shouldn’t have it that easy. But he’s persistent and won’t let her go so easily. “Think about it again, Berdara.”

Now Gwyn is the one to roll her eyes. “You are impossible, but okay, I will think about it.” She forces a grin onto her lips and grabs her bag before a moment later disappearing into the changing room.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Azriel calls after her, but has to wait for his answer until she appears again. And that in a very short, and white silken dress that makes Azriel gasp. 

“Bound to you, sweet love.” She smiles delicately at him and then heads for the door. 

“Come, or you’ll miss the whole performance.”

Of course, Azriel follows, but regrets it a moment later. Or actually when Gwyn starts to sing. The rug is pulled out from under his feet in this moment and he is a goner, lost and falling and hitting the ground hard. She is perfect, and amazing and hopefully soon his. 

I found a man I can trust And boy, I believe in us I am terrified to love for the first time Can't you see that I'm bound in chains? I've finally found my way I am bound to you

Whenever she is on the stage Gwyn becomes alive – her soul feels light, just like her feet. She sings with her whole heart, pouring every small ounce of emotion into every song. And it is perfect.

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“Allow me to drive you home today?”

“You are persistent.” Gwyn chuckles at Azriel. 

“Hey!” Azriel throws up his hands in despair. “I did not ask about a date again. Only about driving you home.” He leans his shoulder against the doorframe. “Nesta is sleeping at Cass’ place aka Cassian‘s and my place again, so…I don’t want you to go home alone and I really need an excuse to not go home immediately.”

“You don’t want to go home?” Gwyn raises a brow.

“I don’t what it is like when Cass is at your place, but when they are our place they are not quite calm in their…love making.”

Gwyn understands immediately, internally face-palming herself and then grimaces. “Fine,” she says, but then remembers something. 

She turns to him with a grin. “But only under one condition.” There is a mischievous glint in her eyes that nearly brings Azriel to his knees.

“Go on,” he drawls.

“You show me the song you wrote.”

Azriel’s eyes widen, but the surprise fades quickly and he laughs. “You really don’t forget anything, do you?”

Gwyn grins, and shakes her head. “Not the important things.”

“Impossible.” Azriel pushes off the doorframe, and reveals the motorcycle helmet he held behind his body, now holding it out into her direction. “Alright then. You allow me to give you a ride, I‘ll show you the song.”

She closes the distance between, her hand reaching for the helmet. “Alright then,” she says with a bright grin.

It is almost like a movie scene, Gwyn concludes, when moments later finds herself atop his incredible motorcycle, her legs on either side of it and Azriel’s hands…she allowed him to fix the strap of the spare helmet he somehow owned and…

God! Gwyn looses a breath she forgot she was holding in. He is so close, the scent of his colon everything she can smell and his smile — oh damn him and his stunning smile.

“That’s alright?” Azriel asks, trying to move the helmet around but it is perfectly in place. 

“Perfect,” Gwyn tells him and Azriel pats her helmet before mounting the bike himself, always careful. 

“Hands on my waist.” Gwyn follows his order, scooting a bit closer, her breath catching once again. 

“Will you go fast?”

“If that’s what you like?”

“Is it what you like?”

Azriel turns to look at her, and before he closes the lid of his helmet, he smirks. Then he starts the motorcycle. “Hold on tight, Gwyn.”

Her arms naturally curl around his waist and they take off. 

It is almost like flying, Gwyn thinks. No, this is what flying must feel like — being weightless and fast with the wind whipping against your body. She laughs from the bottom of her heart, the sound pure and full of joy.

As gently as he placed the helmet he also removed it again, his fingers tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I hope you enjoyed it so much that you now let me drive you home more often.”

She doesn’t answer him verbally, but she straightens up and kisses his cheek, “Thank you so much for the ride.”

Azriel thinks he is very lucky that it is dark, so Gwyn might hopefully not see the terrible blush on his cheeks. He brings up a hand and scratches the back of his neck. 

“And now the song?” She smiles at him expectantly. 

“Only under one condition.” Azriel smirks and Gwyn fights the urge to roll her eyes. 

“You perform the song at the next show.”

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

She would have never said no. Not to such a wonderful offer. The song he wrote, it was perfect, his talent obvious. But the fact that he wrote this song for her. 

It had nearly knocked her off het feet. Even hours after had been gone, Gwyn sat in her bed, reading over the lyrics, memorising it.

And today is the day — she is performing his song. It feels like the greatest honour and she can’t believe her luck that he has actually written a song for her to perform. A song just for her. That he started to write because of her. 

The spotlights are warming her skin, Nesta dances close to her and she sings, from the bottom of her heart, enjoys every single note and relishes in the feel of it, happiness reaching the top, seeping into every fibre of her body.

Hit it up, get it up Won't let you rest Hit it up, get it up This is not a test Hit it up, get it up Gotta give me your best So get your ass up Show me how you burlesque.

The song ends and Gwyn is breathless. She throws her arms around Nesta and cuddles her tightly while cheers and applause rain down on them. Tendrils of damp hair curl around her face, and Gwyn knows she has never felt that alive and happy. This was amazing. The song was. Azriel’s song. 

She turns her head, and from across the room meets Azriel’s gaze, his eyes alight, and a beautiful, bright smile on his lips. 

Gwyn inhales deeply and then sets out for him. She quickly crosses the distance, running, practically flying over the ground and then throwing her arms around his neck. “The song was brilliant,” she cheers and Azriel lifts her off the ground. 

“You were brilliant,” he says and has no chance to continue. 

Gwyn’s soft lips meet his and fireworks explode within them, nothing but bliss and joy in the air around them. 

And when she pulls back and looks at the grin on his face, she knows she is falling massively for him. And fast. And head over heels. But it doesn’t scare her. It feels too good and too right to scare her. Now that she shared her past with him, no obstacle lies between them and she can’t wait for what the future has to offer for them. 

She won’t go fast with him. She will take her time, getting to know Azriel first and then they will see where it leads them. But she knows, whatever direction it will be, having Azriel in her life is one of the best things that could have happened to her.

(*this story is using original songs from the Burlesque movie)

[crowfeatherquill]

"Results" and "Consequences" are Often Considered Synonymous

Gale and Wyll are whispering about him. They assume he can’t hear them -- they have no way to know how imperative it was for him to train his ears to separate voices from other sounds. The crackling of the fire does not hide their discussion from him as well as it might do from someone who hadn’t been forged into a tool rather than raised.

“...to death,” Wyll is saying, and though the glare hurts his eyes, Tathlyn can still see the thunderous scowl on his face when he glances without turning his head.

“We don’t know that,” Gale responds, but he doesn’t look particularly convinced of his own stance, “It’s not like we wandered in after him to check.”

Tathlyn swallows a sigh rather than let on that he’s listening, and does his best to drown them out. He should have expected this. It was only a matter of time, really, before the wizard ran out of academic curiosity and the people’s hero ran out of patience, and the three of them became what they were always destined to turn into: two humans sitting across the fire from a Drow, refusing to take their eyes off him lest he stab them in the backs as soon as they were turned.

He busies himself with portioning out the night’s supplies, and despite his best efforts to stop listening, he cannot help but to overhear bits and pieces, when either or both of them let their passion take them and raise their voices high enough that even they glance his way, finally concerned that he might have noticed them.

“...can’t just sit and do nothing,” says Wyll.

“...ask, at least, before…” says Gale.

“...can’t believe he managed--” says Wyll, before Gale cuts him off, and later, “--trusted him.”

Much as he would prefer not to be privy to any of this, Tathlyn finds himself grateful for his sharp ears when the sound changes from ill-restrained bickering to footsteps. Two pairs, approaching at speed.

He catches the tail end of Gale saying something like “--not the time for--” before he feels Wyll’s hand -- still gauntleted -- fall heavy on his shoulder and spin him around to face them. He forces past the way his muscles leap readily to a violent response, narrowly avoiding splaying Wyll out in the dirt for his efforts, and turns as easily as he is able without allowing himself to stagger.

“Yes?”

The word comes sharp and dripping venom. Tathlyn finds he doesn’t mind the way it tastes. He shouldn’t let his anger get the better of him -- that’s not going to help this -- but he desperately wants to.

“You made yourself out to be a savior,” Wyll snarls, “Said you’d help the refugees clear the roads so they can travel safely to Baldur’s Gate. Even came all this way to find Halsin, I had assumed because you agree that Kagha’s gone too far. For a while, there, I thought it was too good to be true, but you really had me going up until the part where you jumped at the opportunity to torture an innocent--”

Gale puts an arm out, forcing a few inches back into the rapidly closing distance between Wyll and Tathlyn.

“I think what he means to ask is--”

“What I want to know is what comes next, underelf? The next time you feel the urge rise, what will you do if there’s no poor defenseless sods around to take it out on?”

Tathlyn’s gaze goes steely -- he hopes it’s just enough to make Wyll shut up, but at this point he doesn’t really figure his standing can get much worse, so he doesn’t put much effort into precision.

“You’d think after Karlach you’d have learned better than to make assumptions, Wyll.” His tone is frigid -- a stark contrast to the heat practically radiating from Wyll’s every pore. “I let him go.”

“You- …what?”

Wyll slackens against Gale’s restraint -- not convinced, but confused enough to lose some steam. Tathlyn stares him down and Gale does what he can to press himself more bodily between the two of them. Wyll’s feet scrape in the dirt as he takes one, then two steps backward.

“I let him go,” Tathlyn says again, ice knives dripping from each syllable. “Not that I’d be able to prove it to you. Then again, I don’t know that you’d take proof even if I were able to produce it, so perhaps you can satisfy yourself with this if you’re already so sure what to make of me: if I’d actually intended to hurt him, the whole camp would’ve heard him screaming.”

Gale winces and Wyll doesn’t seem able to decide between flushing with rage or paling in fear. While the two of them stand, frozen, Tathlyn pushes past them, out toward the edge of camp where the firelight doesn’t hurt so much to look at.

“Dinner’s portioned,” he says as he goes, “Have at it.”

[bat-anon]

AAAAA TADC LIVEPOST!!!

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO

THE WAY THE INTRO GOES FROM EARLY 2000S COMPUTER GRAPHICS TO THE 3D ANIMATION IS SO GOOD!

Caine! My good buddy Caine! And it’s the opening sequence from the trailer too

BUBBLE CAN TALK?!?! IS THAT ALLOWED?!

I love Caine’s animation! I love the way he talks and his body language

AN OPENING THEME INTRODUCTION FOR THE CAST

Kinger’s little pillow fort I can’t 😭 Someone please comfort this man

The animators knew EXACTLY what they were doing with Jax!! I feel so called out like damn okay!!!

What do they mean “*Disclaimer: Kaufmo the Clown did not show up today.”? How can someone “not show up” in the Circus when Caine can literally teleport the performers to his location and they can’t leave? What’s really going on here?? 🤨🧐

It still feels illegal that Bubble can talk

The VA has a pleasant singing voice tho. Definitely confirms that they’re performing for some invisible audience in some Truman Show style

Love the lyrics here. “Day after day after day after day after day we fly!” really drives home the fact that they are stuck here doing the same things over and over for seemingly eternity.

I’m literally not even a minute in (only at 0:48) because I have so many thoughts and excitement that I have to keep pausing

POMNIIIIII MY GIRL POMNI

WHY IS THE FLOWER POT GLITCHING OUT OF THE FLOOR SO FUNNY ACBNFRJKGD

The music slowing down and dying as Pomni knocks them down like dominos god this show really is comedy gold

Gangle’s mask! I’m so sorry bestie!

Oh god it’s like that meme of everyone at a party judging you I’m-

Is it just me or is Michael Kovach’s performance different than in the trailer? Of course it could just be because Jax is annoyed right now

“Caine, is this one of your NPC’s or is this a new sucker?” AVLGDXV Pomni must take one of the “I am not a robot” test. Also do they get NPCs??? Is Jax referring to other AI or actual NPCs???

She IS trying to remove a VR headset!

Pomni rn:

“You just need to get your head together” Ragatha this is not the time

THE SWEARS ARE CENSORED! ANOTHER ONE FOR THE BINGO CARD!

Caine: THIS IS A PG PROGRAM!

Do you think the censor thing applies to swear words in other languages too?

“You, my friend, stumbled into an incredible world of wonders! Where anything can happen!… E-except for swearing.” I love you Caine.

AFJKJRED I THINK I CAN ACTUALLY MAKE OUT MOST OF THE CURSES POMNI USES OH MY GOD

Yeah don’t be a dick Jax

“Did someone say something about an insect collection?” What? Insect collection? What is Kinger talking about?

Oh so this is where the dream thing kicks in. I wonder how long that’s gonna last until Pomni realizes that it’s real

Do you want me to kill Jax for you Gangle? Because I’ll kill him if you ask it’ll be on sight

THE DIAL UP OUUUUUG HIS CANE SPINNING IN THE BACKGROUND

Yo they got minigolf? Nice

I really hope we get episodes of the cast going to these locations and doing sitcomass things there

THE VOID

The moon talks?!

THE MOON WANTS TO FUCK CAINE?!

Oh GOD what did she throw up?

OH GOD BUBBLE STOP DON’T EAT THAT

EVEN CAINE AGREES WITH ME

TEAR THE BITCH APART!

Caine’s reaction to Pomni mentioning the door is sus…

I like that Caine let’s everyone choose their name idk I like how chill he is with regards to their mental/emotional autonomy

“I said that like five minutes ago” Shhh he has computer lag

“Don’t worry Zooble. I’ll make it something unobtrusive that you can still choose to not get involved with!” See, another example of how Caine wants to respect his performers feelings! I love this guy!

What’s a Gloink? Are they the stars?

THEY ARE THE STARS I WAS RIGHT

Humanoid hash- Caine, do you know what a hash brown is??

THEY STOLE ZOOBLE

Gangle’s reaction… they took her spouse in the divorce…

YO are we actually going to meet Kaufmo? Alright let me see the betting table who has money on him actually being voiced by Jack Black

JAX CAN BREAK THE FOURTH WALL ANDKHRJRJRJ

HA, get BONKED BOY!

It’s actually super interesting to me how Jax seems almost as tired of doing this stuff as Zooble.

She has her own room! :D

Ragatha mental breakdown moment 👁️👄👁️

He has a doorbell. Why is that so funny to me?

… something bad is about to happen

I hate Jax I’m gonna shut him up with my LIPS (I know I have terrible taste YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!)

KAUFMO IS THE BLACK GOOP MONSTER WE WERE RIGHT!!!

Wait. Enhance.

Was that the door for another human that turned into a monster like Kaufmo? Is that why their icon is x-ed out?

OH GOD

OH MY GOD HE’S GOING TO KILL HER

OH GOD WHY ARE THEY ALL GLITCHING

Did Kaufmo cause that hole?

Probably not I guess

“We’re not very good at this, are we?” You’re the dream team to me 🫶

Don’t you DARE tell her what happened

Unrelated but I just noticed the reflection in Gangle’s tears! That’s really cool!

So Jax didn’t just throw the bowling ball at them just to be a jerk, but to get all of the out of there as soon as possible without telling them what happened to Kaufmo? Inch resting

THE BOWLING JOKE HAS LANDED! I REPEAT, THE BOWLING JOKE HAS LANDED!

OH MY GLORB WHAT IS THAT THING? IT LOOKS LIKE THE SAND WORM FROM BEETLEJUICE!

I like that Pomni is doing her best to help Ragatha even though she’s super freaked out. It’s really sweet to me.

IT SPEAKS!

Are you TRYING to get the party eaten Jax? Because that is how you get the party eaten.

AKDNHWHWG THE LOSER OF THE ROCK PAPER SCISSORS BEING THE ONE WHO HAS TO STAY WITH JAX I CAN’T

Can we get an ‘F’ in the chat for Zooble?

Oh no now everything’s glitching out

THE MONKEYS!🙌

What IS the deal with this random door??

“Well, b-but, uh- yet you’re still watching it!” AKDNHSHSB the way the Gloink Queen doesn’t deny it.

OH SHIT! The cinematography of Kaufmo landing on the Gloink Queen is SUPER COOL!

“Oh thank god you’re okay! You didn’t experience a game show in there did you?” ALDKDK a reference to my favorite gag in Gooseworx’s animations!

So Pomni DID work here as a human! And I see the head set on her desk! That warning triangle was definitely there for a reason… I wonder why Pomni put it on at work? Was it her last day and she went “fuck it”? Did her company make/acquire the rights to the game and assigned testing it to her?

C&A REMEMBER C&A THAT’S DEFINITELY IMPORTANT

THE VOID

HAVE I COMPLIMENTED THE SOUND DESIGN AND SOUNDTRACK YET BECAUSE THE SOUNDTRACK AND SOUND DESIGN ARE REALLY REALLY GREAT

Woah where is this restaurant? This looks like a nice place to eat! Also I know this is late but what’s with all the mannequins? Are they the NPCs Jax mentioned earlier? I hope we get an episode of the characters in this restaurant because this setting is dope!

“Oh Bubble, you always know how to make me say this exact sentence.” Agnkjrea have I mentioned that this show is comedy gold? Because it is comedy gold.

THE WACKY WATCH AND THE AD HOUUUGH

I hope they make those as merch that

Pomni’s about to SNAP

Wait, Caine tried to make them an exit because he knew they wanted one even if he missed what they meant? That’s actually super wholesome I love him even more now!

I thought there was blood on Bubble’s knife at first but I now see that it’s just reflecting the colors around it

THE ORCHESTRAL RENDITION OF THE OPENING THEME THAT STARTS PIANO PIANO THAT SLOWLY CRESCENDOS YES

In conclusion: EVERYONE WATCH THIS SHOW AND CHECK OUT @gooseworx’s OTHER STUFF NOW IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME I’LL BE SPAMMING MY FOLLOWERS WITH THIS SHOW AND RAIDING THE ONLINE STORE!!!

[sulky-valkyrie]

fenris/anders/nate prompt: da2 quest 'finding nathaniel', fenris seeing anders flirt with nate, and nate also seeing anders flirt with fenris. bonus points for being jealous and in denial, DOUBLE bonus points for any reflections on changes or consistencies in anders from awakening to da2

hullo my darling!! This may have run off the rails a bit, and I'm not sure I earned all my points, but I hope you like it regardless and HAPPY FRIDAY 💖💖💖 for @dadrunkwriting

“That was foolish, but timely; thank y - Anders?”  The Warden they’d rescued stopped mid-sentence to gape at the man in question.

Regret and . . . something else flickered across his face.  “You can’t get rid of me, Howe.”

Howe shook his head.  “Never wanted to,” he said softly, so softly that Fenris was certain no one was meant to hear it. 

Hawke prodded at one of the corpses with their staff.  “So, why are you down here, anyway?  Other than to upset your sister.”

“Delilah’s here?”  He sighed.  “Maker, she’s as bad as our m-”

“As bad as the Commander, right?” Anders cut him off with a tinge of hysterical desperation in his voice.  “’Where are you going, how are you getting there, when will you be back, did you bring mittens, don’t let the darkspawn smack you on the ass on the way out?’”

He frowned.  “It’s his -”

“Anyway, let’s get out of here, right?”  The mage took a few steps forward, then glanced back at Fenris, clearly conflicted.  “I - everyone, this is Nate.  He’s -” He cocked his head and looked at Nate.  “There are more of them.”

Nate nodded grimly.  “There were six of us originally.  I tried to lead the rest of the pack away to give Dworkin’s cousin time to set the lyrium charges.”

“Maker, is he as bad as -”

“He is,” Nate chuckled.  

It was like they weren’t even speaking in Trade anymore.  Fenris gave Hawke and Isabela a helpless look.  Bela, of course, made a rude gesture impling sex, and Hawke shrugged as they crouched down to pick at the nearest corpse for anything useful.  “You said you had to lead them away?  Away from where?”

Nate shook his head.  “I can’t tell you that.”  He turned to leave.  

“Asshole, do you want help or not?”  Anders snapped, lunging forward to grab at the quiver on his back and spin him around.  “If you go back down there alone, you’ll die!” 

Nate shrugged.  “You did.  Suppose it’s my turn now.”  He started to pull away.  “And if you get involved, I won’t be able to keep everyone quiet.  Not this time.”

“Do I look like I care?!” Anders hissed, grabbing at his elbow as cracks of blue light spilled out from his skin.  “This isn’t about me, this is about people in danger, and I’m not about to just let you die if we can help it!”

Nate looked down at the fingers digging into his arm, then smiled sadly.  “I suppose not.  Good to see you, Justice.”

Justice pursed his lips in annoyance.  “You were not happy to see me before.”

“I -”  Nate closed his mouth.  “I was wrong about that.  Can this wait?  If you want to help, if anyone is still alive, we need to move.”

“It would not be just to allow innocents to come to harm while selfishly looking for my own answers,” Justice agreed.  He released Nate’s arm and pulled out his staff.  “Lead on.”

He didn’t even check to see if the rest of them followed as he and Nate headed down the hallway.  

Hawke sighed, pulled themselves back up to their feet, and started after him, with Bela close behind.  Nothing about this felt right.  Anders was being cagey, Justice was upset, Hawke was following instead of leading, and Bela was keeping her mouth shut.  Did she know this other Warden from back in Ferelden as well?  

Hawke’s voice echoed as Fenris hurried after them.  “Nate, do you know my brother?  Carver Hawke?”

There was a long awkward pause.  “We’ve met,” Nate said slowly.  “He was - he’s in Orlais.”

Bela leaned close to Hawke to stage whisper in their ear as Fenris caught up.  “I smell a story there.”

They barked a short laugh.  “That’s not all you smell.  Was it this bad last time?”

“Thaw’s ending,” Anders answered.  “More of them around.  A lot more.”  He tilted his head, like a dog scenting something.  “Emissary?  No, two.”

Nate chuckled fondly.  “Justice finally taught you how to do that?”  

“More like Kristoff.”  He tapped his temple.  “It’s pretty crowded up here.”

Fenris frowned.  Who was Kristoff?  And why was Anders so concerned anyway?  He’d spent the last seven years bitching about Vigil’s Keep; had it all been a lie?  And if it had all been a lie, what else was he hiding?  Before he could ask anything, as if by some sort of unspoken agreement, Nate and Anders broke into a sprint around the next bend.  

There was a woosh of fire, bright enough that Fenris had to look away, and a rasping scream that turned into a gurgling death rattle. Fenris rushed forward, sword at the ready, but found nothing to attack.

“These seem . . . less fearsome,” Anders mused thoughtfully as he toed at a charred corpse and juggled a small ball of lightning from one hand to the other.

“I’m not sure anything could be scary after the Mother,” Nate replied as he yanked an arrow out of a genlock’s corpse.  

Anders snickered.  “Too many tits, that’ll scare any man off.”  

The easy camaraderie between them made Fenris’ heart clench.  He’d never considered himself jealous or possessive before, but the look in Nate’s eyes when Anders laughed made him want to rip them right out of his skull.  What was their history?  Any fool could see they had one.  

Another pack of darkspawn rounded the corner.  They didn’t seem to notice or care that there were three other people in the cave, just screamed in that almost-language of theirs and charged directly at the two Wardens.  

Fenris was too far to intercept them, and coming from the wrong angle, but he tried anyway, flaring his lyrium for the extra speed.

And it didn’t matter.  Anders threw the lightning out almost casually, and Nate sent a volley of arrows out so quickly it was a wonder the force of the spell didn’t shatter them.  The darkspawn were pinned down in a matter of moments, and the ones that hadn’t been stunned outright pulled out makeshift bows and slings.  

The entire side of the cave crackled with magic as Anders continued to hurl electricity and fire, and Fenris decided he was better off just sitting this one out and watching.  They fought together seamlessly, almost like a dance, constantly moving, constantly weaving in front of each other, and somehow never hitting the other with a spell or an arrow.  It was a dizzying display, and horrifyingly effective.  Each spin and turn they did left another darkspawn dead and another two grievously wounded. 

Fasta vass.  Fenris had never felt so useless in his life.  He’d been ready to fight tooth and nail to keep him here, keep him safe, but . . . even in the Deep Roads, even surrounded by charred genlocks and exploded emissaries, Anders looked happy.  Happier than he’d ever seen him in Kirkwall.

Whatever their history was, it was obvious that they still cared for each other, and who was Fenris to stand in the way of that?  A runaway slave and an elf living in a derelict stolen mansion.  What could he offer him?  Certainly not safety or security.  The Wardens might come with their own kind of death sentence, but at least he’d be safe from Templars.

“You’ve gotten sloppy,” Nate said, breathing hard and smiling.

“Not much call for Warden practice drills in the sewer.” He shrugged.  

Nate’s arm circled his waist in a way that was clear he’d done it many times before.  “Come home.”  

Anders leaned into his touch, then shook his head, almost like he’d suddenly remembered something, and stepped back, tossing an apologetic glance at Fenris.  “I - I can’t.”  He shook his head again as Justice surfaced.  “There is too much to do and we are two souls in one body.”

“Aedan and I could protect you,” Nate protested.  “Void take it, even the bloody King likes you, so-”

“No more hiding, Nathaniel.  The Grey Wardens have their own justice to pursue and we have ours.”

Nate caught his sleeve. “But -”

Justice receded as Anders patted his hand gently.  “I’m not the man I was, Nate.  You wouldn’t like this one as much anyway.”

“I like him alive,” Nate grumbled, letting go and walking stiffly over to the pile of corpses to retrieve his arrows.  

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as they continued through the tunnels, broken up only by brief skirmishes and briefer thank yous afterward.   Anders wouldn’t meet Fenris’ eyes, but he also kept his distance from Nate as much as fighting in close quarters would allow.  By the time they finally made it down to the lyrium charges, not even Bela and Hawke could keep the conversation and they could talk about anything.

They found a dwarf with a head wound behind an outcropping near one of the explosives.  As Anders patched him up, Nate sidled over.

“He’s trying to hide it, but I’ve seen how he looks at you.  Are you and Anders . . . something?”  he asked quietly.

“Were you?”  It was petty, answering a question with a question.  He might not fight to keep him, but he wasn’t going to surrender either.

Nate sighed.  “Felt like a lifetime ago.”

Anger flared up in his chest, spreading out like fire through his markings.  “Then why did you let this happen to him?” he hissed.  “Why take the cat, why let them try to kill him?  Why let him merge with a-”

“You think I had a choice in any of that?”  Nate snapped back.

“There’s always a choice,” Fenris growled.  “And you chose to -”

Suddenly Anders was between them, pressing them apart, and eyes flashing blue.  “Not now, Temmerin says Merrin was still alive when he ran.  That cut to his head was still fresh, he can’t have been unconscious for long.” 

Nate nodded sharply and turned to follow the trail of bombs back to their source.  Anders watched him and sighed wistfully as he tucked his hand into Fenris’ palm.  “I never thought I’d see him again,” he muttered softly.  “Didn’t expect it to hurt this bad.”

He squeezed Anders’ hand lightly.  “What did Justice mean about him not being happy to see him again?”

“We - he found me.”  He shuddered.  “After we . . . you know.  Covered everything up for me so it would look like I died.  Wasn’t happy about any of it.”

“And Ser Pounce-a-Lot?”  Fenris asked.  “Did he -”

Anders barked a harsh laugh.  “No, that was someone else who ordered that.  Nate suggested giving him to his sister, actually.  We gave him to my - Kristoff’s widow.  We were going to see her when Rolan cornered us.”  He shuddered.  “We should keep moving.”

The stench increased the deeper they went; it was that sickly sweet odor of decaying flesh, but mixed with burned hair and excrement.  Hawke had their face covered with a sleeve, and even Bela looked a bit green, but the two Wardens didn’t seem phased at all.  Was this some other side effect of the Joining?  Or were they simply used to it?

They found Merrin’s corpse surrounded by charred pieces of ogres a few hours later, though ‘corpse’ was a generous way to describe it.  ‘Smear’ was more accurate.  Nate crouched down to examine the remains.  “He must’ve waited to detonate it until they were practically on top of him,” Nate said, suddenly looking years older.  “We were too late.”

“Story of my life,” Anders muttered.  

Nate exhaled slowly as he stood up.  “Thanks for the help.  I suppose we don’t need to worry about anyone finding out.”

Anders ran a hand through his hair and made a frustrated noise.  “At least come back to Kirkwall.  Prove to Delilah you’re not dead?”

“Weisshaupt is waiting for a report.”

“They won’t get it for three months, they can wait a few more days.” Anders caught his quiver, in almost the same gesture as before.  “At least have a hot meal and a night’s sleep in a real bed? For old times sake?”

Fenris frowned.  “Anders, I’m not -”

“I’m not inviting him home,” he sighed, then tugged at Nate again.  “Just a night at the Hanged Man, choking down mystery stew and making friends with the fleas.”

Nate chuckled softly.  “You drive a hard bargain.  Fine.”

~~

They camped out near the surface that evening.  Bela and Hawke had spent most of the trek talking quietly.  Fenris caught a few snatches here and there of what sounded like a hushed argument, but he wasn’t about to get involved in any sort of lovers’ quarrel.  He wasn’t about to get involved in any ex-lovers’ quarrels either, but Venhedis, it was difficult.  

His lip twisted up grimly as he glanced over at Nate while he speared some foraged mushrooms on a stick to roast over the fire.  Anders was circling the perimeter anxiously, apparently too full of nervous energy to rest even after spending all that mana fighting and healing.

“You’ve been watching me,” Nate said.

There was no reason to deny it.  “So have you.”

“He makes terrible decisions sometimes,” Nate replied, answering the real question that hung between them.  “I hope you’re not one of them.”

“Were you?”

Nate flinched.  “In the end?  Probably.  Don’t let him push you away when he’s -” he sighed.  “Does he even still get like that?  Those moods when everything is wrong, especially him?”

Fenris thought back to Anders arriving on his doorstep after he and Justice nearly killed a girl, begging him to tell him whether he was a monster.  “He can,” he answered slowly.

“And you’ve stayed?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I’ve gone anywhere?”

“Don’t.”  Nate wiped at his eye.  “He’s - he needs people.  People who don’t leave.”

“Like you’re going to.  Again.”  Why was he arguing with him about it?  Was this even an argument?  Shouldn’t he be glad any former lover would soon be on his way and out of their lives?  Fenris turned to watch Anders picking his way around the camp.  Blue light flashes across his skin occasionally, and his mouth was moving constantly.  Some sort of discussion with Justice, no doubt.  

No.  He shouldn’t be glad.  Not when it hurt Anders like this.  The man had lost enough, and seeing him regain a measure of it, even for a moment, just to watch it fade away?  Unacceptable.

“You heard him: the Wardens have our own justice, and he has his.”  He shook his head ruefully.  “Literally.”

“Come home with us.”  Fenris felt almost as surprised by his words as Nate looked.  He swallowed and tried to backtrack through whatever reasoning had lead that snap decision.  “He - you said it yourself: he needs people who don’t leave.”

Nate arched an eyebrow.  “And where will you be?”

“Wherever he wants.”  His face warmed as he realized how many ways that could be taken.  Fenris walked over to the other side of the fire to crouch next to him and offer his hand.  “We know you can’t stay, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave.”

He looked down at his palm curiously.  Cautiously.  “They’ll come looking for me.”  It wasn’t an excuse, but a warning.

Fenris bared his teeth.  “Let them.”

Nate answered him with a feral grin of his own as he clasped his forearm.  

“What Andraste’s oversized bloomers are you doing?”  Anders was closing in on them, and squinting suspiciously.  “You’re not telling him about all the dumb shit I did in Vigil’s Keep, are you?”

“Haven’t had the time.”  He stood up fluidly, pulling Fenris up behind him with an unexpected strength, then cupped Anders’ cheek.  "But I'll make it later."

Anders' eyes widened, then rolled toward Fenris in surprise. "I don't - what?"

Fenris smiled and stepped to his other side to wrap an arm around his waist and press a gentle kiss to his jaw.  “If you wish it, he’ll be returning home with us.”

[jerzwriter]

Karma is... a Barbie Premiere (1/2)

I completely blame @jamespotterthefirst for this! It started as a simple edit, then it became a gossip page, and now it's a full-blown fic.

I've long hinted about Dr. Eva Mendoza joining as an OC in my Tobias & Casey world. She's only been briefly introduced once, but what better way to bring her back than for the Boston premiere of the Barbie movie? 💄💗💋 It's definitely a date for the Carrick's, but what about their friends, Ethan & Eva? No one can get a straight answer, and rumors are swirling.

Part 1 of fic below.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairings: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey) Ethan Ramsey x F!OC (Eva) - Maybe? Rating: Teen Words: 1,700 Summary: Tobias scores tickets to the biggest event in Boston, and he & Casey each invite a friend. When they learn who each invited, the wheels start spinning. A/N: See above. It's all Bree's fault. lol. This is just a two-parter, and part two will be up later tonight. This was fun, I hope you enjoy it, too! Participating in @choicesflashfics (prompt in bold below)

Part 2 found here

It had been a brutally hot summer in Boston, leaving most residents eager for something to do indoors just to keep cool. That included the doctors at Edenbrook. So Casey was elated when Tobias told her he scored four tickets to the event of the summer, a premiere of the Barbie movie being held by a local charity. She had told him she didn’t mind missing it, but her reaction when he said they’d be going proved otherwise.

“So,” he smiled between breaths as Casey rolled off him and snuggled into his side. “I’m glad to see you really didn’t want to go.”

“Oh, stop,” she giggled with a playful shove. “You know we would have done that anyway.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “Now, who should we offer the other tickets to?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we each pick a friend?”

“Bryce would be all over this, but he’ll be in Hawaii that week.”

“Same with Sienna. That’s the week she’s visiting her family. Jackie would rather have food poisoning.”

“I think you’re right about that,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll think of someone.”

_____

But with the movie premiere just a week away, neither had picked anyone to go, and they made a pact to correct that by the end of the day. 

Casey was reading an article on her phone in the cafeteria when she heard a familiar voice. Desperate for adult conversation that didn’t involve medicine, she eagerly waved Eva over.

“Hey,” the stunning brunette smiled as she approached Casey’s table. “I saw you, but I didn’t want to interrupt. I thought this might be your only alone time.”

“Nah,” Casey smiled. “Tobias is a great hubby... he makes sure I breathing room when I need it. But what I need now is some mindless girl talk! I haven’t had that in ages!”

“Oh, wonderful,” Eva sighed. “I’ve never been terribly good at mindless girl talk, but I promise I’ll give it my best shot. What are we supposed to discuss? Boys? Make-up? Waxing?”

“No, silly!” Casey laughed. “It can be anything... just not work and nothing too serious. Like, tell me, do you have any summer plans?”

“Mmm, not really,” Eva replied, biting into her sandwich. “My first anniversary at Edenbrook is in September; I don’t have much vacation time until then.”

“Well, that sucks! I hope you’re doing some fun things anyway.”

“Oh, I am! I love exploring Boston. I’ve been going to a bunch of concerts and rollerskating in the parks... It’s sort of my thing!”

“Now, that is something I’d love to do with you!”

“You rollerskate!” Eva enthused.

“Ice skating is more my thing, but... transferable skills. I’m going to have to get a new pair of rollerskates. The last ones I owned were Barbie skates to show you how long it’s been.”

“So... last year,” Eva chuckled. “Sorry, you strike me as a woman who would wear Barbie rollerskates even now. And I don’t mean that as an insult.”

“Mmm,” Casey hummed. “GUILTY! But it really was some time ago.”  Then, a lightbulb went off. “Hey! Wait! Were you a Barbie girl growing up?”

“Not exactly,” Eva sighed sadly. “I wanted to be. It’s so steeped in American culture; it’s a right of passage. But my traditional Greek and Cuban families felt they were too provocative. So, I only got to play with them when I visited my friends’ houses.”

“Well, that sucks!”

“I think my parents would have been OK with it, but my Abuela and Yiayia wielded far too much power with my Mother in those days. My father sneaked me off to the Barbie section when he took me to the toy store. He also encouraged playdates with Mindy Schumacker, and I believe her rivaling the Barbie Dreamhouse had something to do with it.”

“I think I’d like your Dad!” Casey smiled.

“I’m certain you would.”

“Well, I would be a failure as a physician if I didn’t do my part to help cure your Barbie Deficiency Syndrome! Tobias and I are going to the premiere at the IMAX next week, and I have a spare ticket. Want to join us?”

“Wait! Those tickets are impossible to get? How’d you score them?”

“My husband is a miracle worker,” Casey winked. “And he loves spoiling me.”

Eva shook her head. “I’ve known you a while now; I attended your wedding and witnessed that man being the most doting husband and father I’ve ever seen... but it’s still hard for me to reconcile that he’s the same man I knew back at Kenmore.”

“Well, love has a way of doing things to people. But I know he’d love it if you joined us. What do you say, are you in?”

“Oh, you couldn’t keep me away!”

_____  

Tobias stepped into the Diagnostic Teams office, humming a song vaguely familiar to Ethan as he entered. Looking up from his paperwork, Dr. Ramsey feigned annoyance with his friend. 

“I don’t understand how you’re always so chipper. You have a newborn and don’t sleep.”

“She’s three months old now, not a newborn.”

“Practically ready to go off to college then!” Ethan teased. “What were you humming... was that... Taylor Swift.”

Tobias raised a brow. “And what if it was? I have an excuse for humming it twenty-four/seven, and it’s called Casey. But what’s your story for knowing it?”

“Also, Casey! I’m trying to be supportive with her returning to work part-time, so I let her play the godforsaken stuff when we’re in here together.”

“She really can convince anyone to do anything, can’t she. Do you like any songs?”

"No."

Tobias stared at his friend with a wicked grin. "You always were a terrible liar. 'Fess up! What are your favorite Taylor songs?"

Ethan sat back in his chair and rocked as if deep in thought. “Some of her work from Folklore and Evermore is quite appealing. But if you tell Casey, I’ll fire you.”

“My lips are sealed,” Tobias laughed. “I heard you canceled your trip to the Cape. Everything all right? I’m happy to take over some of your work if you need help.”

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not canceled. Just delayed. I was foolish to plan it around budget time.”

Tobias rubbed his chin as he studied his friend, his concern growing. “You know, Ethan... I’ve been a little worried about you. I’m a new dad, and I do more fun things than you. You need to work some playtime into your life.”

“Please,” Ethan groused. “I hope you’re not suggesting another boys' night out with Lahela. I have neither the budget nor the energy.”

“You damn well do have the budget! As for the energy, I can see how it's hard at your age. But you have to push through.”

“I’m a year older than you!” Ethan reminded.

“But you act twenty-two years older!”

“I can’t help it if you’re immature,” Ethan countered with a grin.

“Say! Case and I are going to the premiere of the Barbie movie next week...”

“She has you so pecked,” Ethan chuckled.

Ignoring him, Tobias informed him he had an extra ticket, Ethan was coming, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I’m more of an Oppenheimer person. Barbie isn’t exactly my thing.”

“I don’t care; you’re coming.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Fine,” Tobias grinned, picking up his phone and pretending to dial. “I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m letting Casey know how much you loved Folklore and Evermore. I’m even going to fabricate and tell her you’re experimenting with Midnights; she should play that for you on her next shift. Don’t worry, Ethan. You’ll love it!”

“Hang up that phone right now,” Ethan ordered.

“Too late!” Tobias smirked. “Casey, baby, how’s your day going? Guess who's coming with us to see Barbie? Ethan! I know it’ll be a blast. See you at home soon, hon.”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

“Hey, it’s joining us at the Barbie movie once and maybe... gasp... having some fun... or listening to Taylor on loop for the remainder of time. I think you made a wise choice, Ethan.”  

“I didn’t make a choice!”

“Oh, you did,” Tobias winked as he left the room. “You’ll need to wear something pink!” he hollered as he entered the hall.

“I don’t own anything pink!”

“Good, you have time to fix that!”

_____   

Tobias opened the front door to his home and couldn’t help but smile. Casey stood just beyond the foyer, holding little Sammy on her hip as they danced to The Temptation's “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.” 

“Look!” Casey beamed, pointing towards him. “Daddy’s home! Now he can dance with us, too!”

“You better believe I am,” Tobias grinned. He took Sammy from Casey, then wrapped his arms around her hips. “I’m so glad you’re giving our daughter a balanced musical diet. It can’t be all Taylor, all the time.”

“Hey, my love of Motown is what sealed the deal and made you fall in love with me,” Casey said, kissing his cheek.

“Heh,” Tobias snickered. “It certainly impressed me, but that wasn’t what sealed the deal.”

“Oh, really, then what did?”

“Not in front of the baby, dear,” he grinned. “But hey, speaking of Taylor Swift, your fellow fan at work is joining us at the Barbie movie next week.”

“My fellow fan? I told you Sienna is away next week.”  

“I know, but I’m talking about Ramsey.”

“ETHAN? Ethan is coming with us to the Barbie premiere?”

“Yeah,” Tobias replied. “He really needs to expand his horizons. I hope it’s OK with you.”

“Of course! It’s just... he doesn’t seem like the Barbie type.”         

“He’s not,” Tobias laughed. “But we’re going to have so much fun with this. I even told him to wear pink!"

"We're going to have fun, for sure! But Ethan? The jury is out on that. There’s just one tiny problem, babe. I asked Eva to come along.”

Tobias’s face fell. “Oh, shit. They’re totally going to think we’re trying to hook them up.”

“Which we’re not,” Casey replied. “I mean, I would... but this wasn’t our intention.”  

“Maybe not,” Tobias smirked. “But you know... me and karma vibe like that.”

“T.,” Casey said, shaking her head. “Please leave inserting Taylor quotes into situations to me... but... we are going to have so much fun with this!”

Tobias jiggled Samantha on his lap. “You hear that, Sammy? Your Mommy’s got ideas in that head. No one is safe now.”

Part 2 found here

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[quiverwingquack]

71 with glitchless for the fic prompts? <3

I'm always down to write for glitchless! Thanks for the request. (Here's the prompt list for everyone else!)

“It’s like they’re always waiting to catch you off your guard,” Gyro mutters. He’s hardly even focusing, hands busy dismantling a glitchy piece of the cloud. “And then they mess things up.”

Gandra laughs, a nervous but pretty sound. “Something like that, yeah.”

Gyro looks up, just for a second. She’s typing something on a hologram keyboard, her bangs hanging halfway in her face, a band-aid across one cheek after their fight with Beaks. Her free hand is shaking a little, betraying her worry with so many new people, but she’s still smiling and doing her best to finish her work. He turns back to his own task before he starts blushing.

Fenton was right. She is incredible.

“When you aren’t paying attention, they watch you,” he presses something wrong, and the glitch turns the familiar blue of a computer error. He frowns. “And then things go haywire as soon as they start going well.”

“Exactly! Huey said you’d get it. That you, uh… how did he phrase it? You didn’t start out a hero either.” She sits down beside him at the workstation, reaching for his tools. “But something tells me it wasn’t FOWL you got mixed up with.”

“It was just as bad,” he admits, turning the glitched piece so she can look at it. “My old mentor tried to destroy Tokyolk.”

“Very cool of him,” she says sarcastically, squinting and tilting her head as she looks over the glitch. “I bet you weren’t getting paid near enough for that.”

He laughs. It’s been a while since he’s talked to someone he felt could actually understand him, much less joke about the things he’s dealt with. “Of course not, when do they ever?”

“Never. At least, not with Bradford.”

“I was almost glad when he turned out evil,” he flicks his hand, creating a set of hex keys, then pulls out the smallest one. “He’s a terrible boss. Always talking about budgets and turning down good projects.”

“He really is!” Gandra laughs again, leaning over the glitch with a screwdriver in one hand. This time, she sounds a little more comfortable. “You’d think after decades of master planning he’d at least be a good villain, but he’s just some tightwad in a suit.”

“That’s Bradford, alright,” Gyro laughs too. But he’s distracted now, spinning the hex key between his fingers. She hates stuck-up businessmen almost as much as he does, and she’s prickly but kind, and her hair is falling over her very blue eyes again like it’s a shield, but she’s letting him past it. He remembers Fenton telling him earlier, in a hurry, that she was a “really good person and so understanding and just like us, if you’ll give her a chance” and he gets it. He gets her.

She’s a scientist with big dreams that the world keeps burying. A hopeful heart she’s had to hide, because sometimes plans don’t work out and people aren’t kind to new ideas. He understands that all too well. It’s what he bonded with Fenton over, despite their many differences—they see each other, all of each other, like nobody else has ever been able to before. And though they’ve barely met, he knows why Fenton’s fallen in love with her, and he’s trying to keep himself from doing the same.

After all, what are the odds they both look at him the same way?

“I think that should do it,” Gandra declares, a hint of triumph pushing through the anxiety. “That might be all of them.”

“It should be,” Gyro agrees, looking around at the beautiful landscape. “You two built something really… special. I’m impressed.”

“Oh! Um, thanks. Thank you,” all of a sudden, she’s blushing. “Fenton said you’d be happy to help work out the kinks, but I was worried it would go wrong and… well, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” He sighs, pushing away bad memories of past disasters. “That’s the hardest part of inventing things. But I’m… glad you trusted us.”

“I’m glad I trusted you too,” she looks away, her voice suddenly turning soft. “It’s… nice to know someone else understands, I guess. Nobody else has before.”

“Yeah,” Gyro looks out over the yellowed sky, the jagged clouds drifting past. He could never have invented something of this magnitude alone, but working together has brought one of Fenton’s elaborate ideas to life. And though he’s loathe to admit it, his former intern is becoming a great scientist in his own—

“Hi, Dr. Gearloose! And hi Gandra!” Fenton chirps, suddenly behind them. “M’ma had to head home, and honestly I’m kind of relieved. She can be so protective sometimes, and I know she means well, but—well, I can take care of myself. And I trust you guys! I think I managed to convince her it’ll be okay if I stay late to work on the Gizmocloud a little while longer.”

“Gizmocloud. What a stupid name,” Gyro remarks, before he can stop himself. He’s trying to be the mentor Akita could never be for himself, but sometimes Fenton’s personality and his just… clash.

“That’s what I said!” Gandra declares, reaching over to kiss Fenton’s cheek. “We’re still workshopping.”

And there, beside them both, watching the pixelated waves roll and taking in a view they’ve built together, Gyro decides he could get used to this. He could get used to being loved and part of something.