#imagine me doing a relationship post without setting up exactly how they got together

[dolcecherub]

surprise pit stop ➶-͙˚ ༘✶

★ pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

★ tags: op81, female reader, dirty talk, established relationship, phone sex, smut, riding, belly bulging, 2024 F1 season, excessive pet name

★ yap: second oscar fic!! lowkey very happy with this one and it was so fun to write so hopefully y'all enjoy - also please ignore any mistakes its like 2am when im posting this lol :)

★ word count: 3.2k

It had been a week since you had last seen Oscar, given that the past week and the one upcoming were part of the triple header in Spain, Austria, and Silverstone. Work had been far too busy for you to be able to go, unfortunately. But he made sure to call you before bed every night, telling you how much he missed you and having you at the end of every race.

Your heart ached. 

You were used to not seeing him for a few weeks at a time during the season, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Sporadic texts, late-night calls, seeing media posts wishing you could stand next to him in support. 

The Spanish Grand Prix did not end as Oscar had wanted, finishing 7th, and although he scored points, he was evidently snappy later that night, beating himself up for the performance he gave. You listened to his rambles about the track and how the garage was insufferably hot, laughing when he made an angry quip. The conversation fizzled as he relaxed, his tone soft as he murmured about how much he missed you, eyes hazed with sleep.

Long ‘goodnights’ and murmuring ‘I love you’s’ preceded a restless sleep for you, heart aching to hold him, body filled with need. 

Days had passed, fewer chats with Oscar, given that you were both a bit busy. Wednesday dragged on, the sun setting as you finished a few last-minute emails before calling it a day in the office. You hopped into your car, ready to drive home, when a notification flashed on your phone, seeing Oscar’s name light up the screen. 

You smile subconsciously before putting the car into gear and heading home. The ride home was peaceful, excited to get home and finally chat with Oscar. Pulling into your driveway, you grab your belongings before heading inside. You drop your bag near the door, sliding off your coat and hanging it up. Walking into your bedroom, you grab a change of clothes and get settled for bed before grabbing your phone. 

Tapping the notification, your chat with Oscar opens, your breath hitching as you process what he has sent you. His first text read, “thinking ‘bout you baby” and “I miss you.” 

What really got your heart racing was the picture that followed. 

A mirror selfie with Oscar sat on the corner of his hotel bed, shirtless, his hair tousled from a shower. His legs were spread, pyjama pants doing very little to hide the hard-on he was sporting. His biceps bulged, holding up his body as he leaned back a bit, abs clenched. Your mouth watered, imagining yourself settled between his legs, pleasing him. You sent a text back, body flushing with need. 

"Fuck Osc, that’s not fair"

He reads it immediately, typing back a quick emoji, before you see his contact pop up on your screen, an incoming call. You answer right away, giddy to hear his voice. 

“Hi, baby,” His voice is soft and raspy, your mind immediately calming, smiling at the nickname. “Hi, Osc, I miss you.”

“I miss you, wish you were here, bed’s empty without you,” 

“Only thing you’re missing?” You tease, looking back at the picture he sent you. He chuckles lowly as you hear rustling around. 

“You know exactly what I’m missing, darling.”  Your thighs clench at his tone, cheeks flushing red. You slide off your top, pushing your tits together and snapping a quick picture, sending it to Oscar. He groans, “Fuck. I’d do anything to have you here right now, baby,” His tone was needy. 

“Yeah? Gonna touch yourself thinking about me, hm? Imagining my mouth around you?” You teased, your hand sliding across your body. He groaned, a slick noise coming from his end of the phone. Your words continued, riling him up without fail as he brought himself to release, hearing your voice. 

Sweet goodbyes and a ramble of how much he loved you followed before you both settled into bed, miles apart. 

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

Thursday morning came, your mind made up. However it may be, you would be in Austria to support him. 

And so it began, calls with some of his PR team members, a message to co-workers letting them know you’d be working from home for a few days, quick packing, as well as booking the soonest flight. You had a rough plan, hoping to fly in Saturday night and surprise him after the race on Sunday, and although a last-minute flight would never be cheap, you knew it was worth it. 

You packed a small suitcase with essentials, as well as making sure to pack Oscar’s McLaren jersey and a cute lingerie set. You made sure to do a bit of housekeeping, not having booked a return flight just yet. 

Calls with Oscar continued, the surprise nearly slipping off your tongue a handful of times. Thankfully, a team member at McLaren had been able to snag a paddock pass to ensure you’d be able to watch the race while also letting you know his hotel information so you could wait for him after the race. 

Saturday had come quicker than expected, and next thing you know, you were settled into a hotel room in the same hotel as Oscar, antsy that he was so close yet so far. He tried to call, and you brushed it off, saying you weren’t feeling well and planned on sleeping early. He bought it, thankfully, wishing you a good night’s sleep and hoping you felt better in the morning. 

The sprint race had gone well for Oscar, placing second and scoring a few more points. However, qualifying was far less exciting, having placed seventh on the starting grid. You tucked into bed, falling asleep fairly quickly, excited for the next day. 

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

You woke up early, snagging a quick breakfast in the room before getting ready. You popped on Oscar’s jersey atop the lingerie you had brought, sliding on a pair of baggy jeans and a hat. You left your hair naturally, with slight waves and a light face of makeup, spritzing yourself in Oscar’s favourite perfume.

You grabbed the paddock pass you were given the night before and slipped out of the hotel room, making your way to the track.

You made sure to time it so that Oscar would likely already be in his car before you arrived to ensure he wouldn’t see you. Some of the team members smiled at your presence, knowing it would make Oscar happy. 

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

The race had gone better than you could have imagined, Oscar having started seventh and finishing second. You cheered loudly, proud of his performance and excited to treat him after the race.

As he finishes up with post-race interviews, you slink back to the hotel, grabbing the key card to his room and slipping in. His room looked lived in as you navigated it, sliding off your jeans and folding them on the chair before slipping into his bed. 

It felt like hours had passed when you received a text from a friend on the McLaren team letting you know that Oscar had just left the paddock and was headed back to his hotel room. Your heart sped up with excitement, hands brushing through your hair, trying to fix any loose hairs. 

The black set you had on underneath was one of Oscar’s favourites, the lace cupping your breasts perfectly, the colour stark against your skin. You hoped his jersey on top would make him feel some sort of way. 

You heard a click, the door swinging open as Oscar sighed, he hadn’t seen you yet, toeing off his shoes at the doorway before walking in. He emptied his pockets onto the table and tousled his hair as you shifted in bed, his eyes snapping to the motion and sound. 

Your eyes locked with his, a small smile adorning your face. His eyes widened in shock, “Oh my god,” He murmured before nearly catapulting himself into bed with you, arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” He mumbled, placing a delicate kiss to the crevice between your neck and shoulder. 

“Congratulations, Oscar, you did so well. I’m so proud of you.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him close and praising him. 

“You watched?” He said shocked, pulling his head back to look at you. You pointed to the paddock pass sat atop your jeans on the chair. “You watched it live?” His voice octaves higher with surprise, “You didn’t come see me.” He pouted. 

“I wanted to surprise you, thought it would be fun,” you confessed, feeling a bit nervous suddenly. He dipped his head back into your shoulder, laughing. “I’m so happy you’re here you have no idea.” He spoke, trailing kisses up from your neck to your jaw as you lightly scratched his back, body still cooling from the race. 

His lips met yours, slow and hungry, his body impossibly pressing against yours. Days of desire pouring into his kiss, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip as his teeth nipped your lip. You gasp, letting his tongue in as it licked over your own. Your hand trailing up into his hair, tugging lightly as he groans into your mouth, your thighs clenching at the noise.

His thigh slid between yours, pressing against you, Oscar’s body on top of yours, his tongue swirling with yours messily.

You whined against his mouth, heart racing as his hands slid across your hips holding them tight. You pull back to look up at him, lips glossy, eyes dark with want and his cheeks flushed. 

“You look so good in my shirt,” He mumbled, his lips trailing delicately on your neck as his hands pushed the shirt up, revealing your black lace panties that were nearly drenched from his kisses. “For me, darling?” he asked teasingly, his hands leaving the jersey midway up your stomach before grabbing your thighs and pushing them a bit farther apart. 

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers brush the inside of your thigh. “You’re so sweet to me,” He murmurs, giving short and sweet kisses between words. Your hands trail down his chest, fingers grabbing the waistband to his shorts, tugging open the button and sliding down the zipper. You peered up at him, his eyes following your hands, cock throbbing. Sliding out from under him, you stand to the side of the bed, his expression a little confused. 

“Sit back,” You asserted, grabbing your hair and pushing it to one side. Oscar swiftly moved, sitting back against the headboard, his legs spread as you climbed back onto the bed, sitting on your knees between his legs, leaning forward toward him. He watches you intently, grabbing his shirt and slipping it off, tossing it to the side, his heart racing. You tugged the top part of his shorts down, his boxers tight against his bulge as his breath hitched at the contact. You looked up at him, tugging his boxers down and pulling his cock out, tip leaking. 

You wrap a hand around him, thumb rubbing the slick precum from his tip over his cock as you pump him a few times, Oscar groaning. He slips a hand into your hair, brushing it away from your face. Leaning forward, you slide your tongue up the bottom side of his cock, eyes locked with his as you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around him and savouring the tip. He lets out a ragged groan, “Fuck, baby.”

You moaned at his words, the noise reverberating through him. You let a little spit dribble onto his cock before sliding his length into your mouth, hands pumping whatever you can’t fit. “Shit, look at you,” Oscar mumbled, his hands tangling into your hair tighter, pushing your head down slightly as you gagged. Your head came back up, hands still pumping him wetly as you caught your breath, Oscar’s leg twitching at the sensations. His hand quickly stopped yours, letting out a sigh, his reddened tip leaking. Your thighs clenched, feeling sticky from your arousal. 

“What?” You giggled shyly, hands still slowly pumping him despite the resistance. “You’re gonna make me cum, darling,” He chuckled breathlessly. You opened your mouth, slapping his cock on your tongue a few times before slipping it back into your mouth all the way, your nose touching his body, his cock throbbing. Oscar let out a guttural groan, head slamming back against the headboard at the sight of you.

You pulled him out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you to him as you licked your lips. Oscar lifted his hips, sliding his shorts and boxer off in one smooth go, tossing them with his shirt as he beckons you closer. Crawling onto his lap, his hands grab your hips pulling you closer as his lips landed on yours, tongue sliding against yours, hotly tasting himself on your tongue. 

You moan into his mouth, feeling him press against your core. “Take ‘em off baby,” Oscar says, snapping the edge of your panties against your hip. Obeying, you tug them off, thighs slick with arousal as you drop the panties to the side before climbing back onto his lap. His hands return to your hips, your wet heat sliding against his cock, teasing him as he groans. His hands slide back, squeezing your ass and pushing you forward. 

“You look so good in my jersey, my name on your back,” his lips suckling light marks on your neck as you grind your hips. You get up on your knees, his cock popping up, tip meeting your entrance. Oscar grabs himself, rubbing against you teasingly wetting himself as you begin to settle. His tip slides in, your mind dizzying at the stretch. You slide your hands to his shoulders, slowly taking inch by inch till your hips meet his, Oscar mezmerized by you. 

“You’re so big, Osc, fuck,” You whine out, moving your hips back and forth getting comfortable with the stretch. 

“You can take it, baby,” He assures, his hand rubbing over the slight bulge evident on your tummy under his jersey, his eyes hooked onto it watching himself inside you, the other moving your hips. 

You whimper at the pressure, finally moving your hips up and down slowly, Oscar grabbing your hips as he groans, watching you bounce. Your hips moved slowly in a menacing pace, unintentionally teasing him. You clenched around him, moaning as he fucks up into you, hands holding you down. 

“C’mon baby, you’re doing so well for me,” He praised as you whined, “You want me to help you darling, need my help, hm?” 

You leaned forward, ass pushing back a little as your forehead fell to his shoulder, “Please Oscar, n-need it,” You whimpered, begging him as his cock throbbed. His hands tighten on your hips, surely leaving marks for the next morning. He pumps his hips up into you, your mouth leaving sloppy kisses on his neck as he hits a spot inside you making you whimper loudly. 

“Look at you taking my cock, darling.” He praises, hips pistoning at a brutal pace, your mind dizzy as you fail to answer, whimpers and moans spilling out, your hands grabbing his shoulders. 

“Missed you so much,” He groaned, slowing down his thrusts to a teasing pace dragging his cock before thrusting back up into you. “Osc… fuck.” You moaned, looking at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. He continued murmuring sweet praises, a knot building tight in your stomach, your inner thighs sticky as Oscar continued his dizzying thrusts. 

“You’re so good for me darling,” He groaned, his abs clenching, “Treating me to this sweet pussy, letting me fuck you like this,” His filthy words making your head spin as you whimpered. His cock filled you deliciously, feeling yourself clench around him as you tumbled closer to the edge. 

His jersey clung to your damp skin, your mouth slack as he fucked you, the slow drag of his cock leaving you breathless. “Pretty girl,” He mumbled, suckling another mark onto your neck before leaving a soft kiss to your lips, your mind far too fuzzy to kiss him back hungrily. 

“Osc I- fuck,” You whine, “I’m gonna cum,” You whimpered, your stomach tightening with need. “Cum for me baby, c’mon,” He teased, his one hand sliding between your thighs, rubbing slow circles on your clit as he continued thrusting his hips up into you. 

You feel your legs shake, clenching around him as you let go, mind fuzzy as you nearly collapse onto him, moans and the filthy slap of skin filling the air. Oscar’s hip faltered slightly, feeling you cum around him but he continued, his cock throbbing with need to finish.

“Your pussy was made for me, baby. Gonna let me cum?” He groaned, hips thrusting faster with need. You whimper at his words, too far gone to speak as you nod your head, biting your lip. 

“Let me fill that sweet pussy, darling.” Oscar moans breathlessly. His hips stutter as you tighten around him, his cock twitching inside you, warmth filling you as he groans. Oscar’s head drops to your shoulder, hips slowly fucking into you as his release filled you. He brings his head up, placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, hand sliding comfortingly against your back as you feel his cum drip out of you and coat your thighs, a filthy sight that Oscar revelled at. 

“You’re so good to me, darling, I love you,” He praised, pushing the damp hairs off of your forehead and placing delicate kisses across your face as he pulled out slowly. You whined at the loss, feeling empty as he leaked out of you.

He let out a sigh, holding you closer, before moving to get up, still holding onto you. He places you down on the bed gently, quickly grabbing a cloth to wipe both of yourselves down before getting settled for bed. Slipping on a pair of boxers, he grabbed an extra t-shirt for you, helping you peel off the jersey and slip on the t-shirt before bed. 

Oscar slid into bed with you, your eyes fighting to stay open as you curled yourself around him, leg propping onto his hip, his arms bringing your body closer as he gently kissed you. 

“I love you, Osc.” you mumbled, kissing the tip of his nose before nuzzling it with your own. A small smile on his face as he pulled you impossibly closer. “I’m happy you came,” He spoke, cuddling into your hair, you couldn’t help the joke. “Oh, I am too.” You giggled, twisting his words lightheartedly. He chuckled, squeezing your hip at the innuendo, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head before you both silently lulled to sleep. 

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

Silverstone wasn’t all that bad, Oscar having placed fourth. 

Perhaps you were good luck, you thought, as Oscar ran over to you following the race, kissing you like he had never been happier.  

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

[anghraine]

I'm sad that I didn't have the brain power to write anything new for the Rebelcaptain fix-it week prompts, but on the bright side, my ... uhhhh oeuvre of Jyn/Cassian fics does include fics that would fit the prompts if I were writing them now. So in honor of the post-Andor kudos/comments extravaganza I've been a beneficiary of, here are the old fics of mine that best match the week's prompts:

1— How they escape Scarif

I did this one a bunch of times, but the one that is the most about the mechanics of escaping Scarif and how that, too, could go wrong is unquestionably per ardua ad astra, the AU where Jyn, Cassian, and Bodhi escape Scarif in an Imperial shuttle only to get caught in the Death Star's tractor beam.

Wildly, she looked around the shuttle. There had to be something she could do. Some last hope. The mission couldn’t end this way. Cassian said quietly, “Jyn.” “No!” She hated the calm on his face, shattering the mask of pain. Had he never expected to live? A suspicion crept on her, near to certainty: he wasn’t going to live, with or without the Empire. At his side, blood soaked her bandage. Every breath he took whistled and shuddered. She hadn’t even begun to look at whatever he might have done to his legs, under those Imperial trousers. Imperial trousers. Imperial officer’s trousers. Jyn turned to look at the cockpit, knowing what she’d see. A slim man in the uniform of an Imperial pilot. Even part of an Imperial droid. One last chance.

2— How they finally admit their feelings

I actually didn't write the actual declaration that often (partly because of eternal WIP-itis), but more often fics when they have already done so or are cautiously maneuvering around it. However, like a storm in the desert does have it:

I love you, she thought, easy and painless. It wasn’t a revelation, exactly; she’d understood it for a long time. Before the Alderaanian missions, probably before Scarif, however improbably.  What everyone else had seen, it was wrong. But it also wasn’t wrong, and she hadn’t understood that. “You know,” he whispered, one hand cupping her cheek again. “Don’t you?” Jyn brushed his hair from his face, triumph radiating through her at the streaks she’d left over his face, at the heavy gaze reflected back at her. “Yes,” she said. “I know.”

3— How they fare on Hoth

Imagining Jyn/Cassian on Hoth inspired my first RO fic altogether, but my personal favorite of my fics with them there is the words are all escaping, which is entirely about the post-ANH evolution of their relationship. It's set in a longer series, but really all you need to know is that Jyn and Cassian are the only ones who escaped Scarif and they formally got together soon thereafter.

“You also asked me if you were a cyborg,” she said, giving up on the chair and the chilly temperature of their quarters at night. Worse than chilly. Even Jyn got cold on Hoth. After the galaxy’s quickest change of clothes, she grabbed the datapad and one of the blasters she’d discarded with her holster, and climbed into bed. Shivering, Jyn tried to find some opening in the tangled mass of blankets, with no effect until they gave a dramatic twitch and lifted. She crawled under, stowing the blaster under her pillow. Cassian didn’t do that, but he was painfully careless—except about organization—when he felt safe. Jyn never felt safe. Not completely, and certainly not with the Empire combing the galaxy for them. Fine, it didn’t seem like Imperial spies ever managed … anything, given their total failure to find Alliance bases over twenty years, but you could never be sure. And Jyn had good reason to know that Rebels sometimes defected, if very rarely; they just didn’t tend to live long afterwards. (Cassian tried to keep her from those missions, at first. Jyn, whose qualms about murder did not extend to traitors, simply packed as usual and slipped into the ship before he arrived. When he found her in the co-pilot’s chair, he opened his mouth to say something stupid and unnecessary, so Jyn just propped her boots up on the panel—which he hated—and stared at him. They never exchanged a word about it, but after the fourth time, he gave up altogether and Jyn kept her feet on the floor.)

4— How they work together on missions

I'm pretty sure my only real missionfic in the usual sense (aka not ad astra, in which the "mission" is survival and involuntary) is probably also like a storm in the desert, which does have a chapter revolving around Jyn and Cassian's nesting dolls of Fake Dating:

Zara, at any rate, was the sort of narrowly good-natured woman who disliked death and suffering, but talked vaguely about the rule of law and dismissed the rest as Rebel propaganda. Major Lannan prided himself on the precision of his conduct while happily remote from actual warfare; he served on a quiet backwater planet that had seen no real change between the Republic and the Empire. Lieutenant Erso and Commander Andor of the Rebellion heartily disliked them both. But the higher officers of Major Lannan’s sector had been summoned to a gathering (otherwise known as a five-day party) with the local brass. Normally, the Rebellion took little interest in such a peaceful region, but the gathering happened to be taking place at Elis Place, which incidentally stored the sector’s personnel records. Draven wanted them for unknowable Draven reasons, so Jyn and Cassian buried themselves into Zara and Lannan and endured. On top of that, the Lannans were, obviously, married. The Alliance operatives stuck inside them were, back in the Rebellion, just as obviously lovers. But packed inside them were Jyn and Cassian, and they were nothing of the kind. Well, maybe something of the kind. But certainly not—not— Jyn opened her eyes in the near-dark, letting her gaze drift down the line of Cassian’s sleeping (maybe sleeping) body. The Lannans’ bed was easily twice the size of their own; where Jyn had considered Cassian’s commander’s quarters palatial, by her standards, these apartments were the real deal. Yet sleeping in this one, a good foot apart, felt more intimate, more dangerous.

5— Follow to the ends of the galaxy

Since I've never written them on Endor, I contemplated the alternative prompt, and I'm pretty sure the closest for me is the final chapter of my f!Cassian/Jyn AU, whatever we deny or embrace:

“Baze said we were practically married already,” she replied, readily enough. “He didn’t know he was saying it, but still. And I thought that—it’d be good to have things clear.” Cassia looked particularly inscrutable. “To me?” “To everyone,” said Jyn. “No misunderstandings.” Again, Cassia’s eyes widened. Her grip loosened, and Jyn had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “You want,” Cassia began, then broke off. “You’re proposing that we swear to … to this, to staying together forever, because now we’ll probably live long enough for it to matter?” She could be very concise sometimes, without sacrificing meaning. It was one of Jyn’s favorite things about her. “Yes,” said Jyn. “And because you want us sworn before the entire galaxy?” she pressed. “Yes.” Cassia released Jyn’s hands, which for one terrible moment, threw all of her conclusions into doubt. Then Cassia stepped even nearer than they already stood, almost as near as they could get, and cupped Jyn’s cheek with one hand, the other dropping to her hip. “Jyn,” she said.

6— How they live after the war

I did write one short fic centered around this idea, one wave short of a shipwreck.

They all knew the end of the war would be difficult for Cassian, and none knew it better than K-2SO, in his own estimation. All of them had certain inconvenient adaptations to make, of course, but none possessed quite the same disadvantages as Cassian. After all, the Guardians of the Whills and Bodhi Rook had functioned in civilian status for longer periods of their respective existences than not, and in any case typically served in non-combat capacities; Jyn Erso spent years of her early maturity as a petty thief, with few aspirations beyond the convenience of the moment; K-2SO’s own security systems were not specifically programmed for war, however useful his contributions. But Cassian retained no alternate data. “If you are considering a return to Coruscant,” he informed Jyn—who, by this point, K-2SO classified as a) an occasional threat to his decisions, b) a frequent co-conspirator, and c) generally the organic counterpart to himself—“then the probability of assimilation to human-typical behaviour may be elevated, but—” “We’re not typical,” she said in her abrupt way, “and I’m thinking of something quieter.” With more relief than he cared to articulate, K-2SO said, “I concur.”

7— Free day!

It didn't really fit for any of the other themes, but one of my favorites of my fics is life, like a swinging vine, which is a one-shot following the first year after Scarif.

Everyone knew that Jyn and Cassian were sleeping together. Everyone, even if they couldn’t decide whether he’d seduced her for the cause or she’d seduced him for her mission. Nobody outside their team seemed to consider that they might have fallen into bed because, say, they found each other attractive and likable (they hadn’t, but did people always have to assume the worst?). Meanwhile, in the real galaxy, Jyn’s skin sparked like a bad circuit when their arms or hands brushed; Cassian hid his answering jolt, or—among the small, strange family they’d accumulated—didn’t bother hiding it at all, his eyes wide and his hand unsteady but close. If they felt particularly daring, they would exchange lingering glances and nervous smiles, before discovering an urgent need to analyze Imperial data protection (Jyn, at least, considered it an achievement to stay in the same room). She didn’t feel afraid, and she doubted that Cassian did either; they’d just never had the chance for this, the trust or time for shyness, uncertainty, the thrill of anticipation crackling beneath, for—well, for being young and in love, and a little stupid with it. Everything was so much, after lives of so little; for now, they soaked up touch, and for now, that seemed like enough. 

[natimiles]

Natiii hiii

If your requests are open, is it alright if I request a part 2 of the platonic sibling headcanons for your favourite Ikevamp boys? Where they find out that reader, their precious beloved little sibling, is actually in love with/dating Dazai. I think it would be hilarious xD

Take your time, and remember to put your own health first! ❤

Hi hoooo, Silveeeer! (if you don’t get it, you don’t get it; and it means I’m really old)

Platonic relationships are so cute! Half of them would die if the reader dated anyone, to be honest, HAISUEHSAUIEHSAUIEA. But oooohhh, it was fun to imagine my dearest Isaac! 🤍

I'm sorry it took so long and I hope you liked it! 🤍

gn!reader with a sibling-like relationship with them starts to date Dazai | Isaac, Mozart, Jean, Arthur, Theo and Vincent, and Napoleon

Tags: minor spoilers for Dazai’s route; platonic relationships; sibling-like bond; teeny-tiny suggestive parts for Mozart, Jean, and Theo and Vincent (but still sfw, don’t worry!)

Notes: kind of a part 2 of this post, where gn!reader has a sibling-like relationship with them. 

Isaac

“I’m dating Dazai.” — Do you hate him? He feels like you do now.

He was never overprotective or one to pry into your business, but he felt like he should tell you something about it. You are his dearest younger sibling, after all.

He won’t try to separate you not exactly. He just wants to make sure you’re okay — stop glaring at him!

He will ask for Napoleon’s help to have a talk with Dazai. Napoleon is there just giving moral support because he has nothing against the writer. Isaac is in such distress after this talk, he probably got some gray hair. Dazai teased him, and Napoleon didn’t help.

He will tell you about this and every other time Dazai teased him or pulled some kind of prank on him. Might he remind you it was Dazai who gave him wine and said it was juice at the last banquet?

He can finally have a proper talk with Dazai — without being embarrassed or teased — a few weeks later. He can see now that Dazai really cares for you, and his teasing has lessened (but didn’t stop; it never stops).

Just remember your brother is a contrarian, okay? He’ll complain and grimace when he sees you two kissing, but he’ll help you out if Dazai ever tries to avoid you again. He really hopes you two stay together forever; he wants to see you happy.

Now stop bringing him apples every day with the excuse that you’re taking care of your family, Dazai!

No, Dazai, he doesn’t need someone too! Stop trying to set him up with random people!

Mozart

“Dazai asked me out and I said yes.” — “Pfff, no, you didn’t.”

And it’s not because it’s Dazai. It’s because you’re dating. That’s it.

Overprotective brother activated successfully. Every breath you take, every step you take, he’ll be watching you.

Seriously, he’s watching you two like a hawk. You thought Theo had brother issues? Pff! He won’t leave you alone. Or he’ll try to not leave you alone, but Dazai is too cunning and he always finds a way to evade Mozart and take you with him. Your brother might be fuming by now.

He doesn’t even try to talk with Dazai; he just knows he’s not worthy of you. No one is.

You end up having ‘the talk’ with Mozart. Does he remember when he was having a composer’s block, and Dazai helped? That’s how you start your list of “why Dazai is the safest vampire you could date”. You end the list playfully asking if he’d prefer if you dated any of the other writers, like Arthur, and you swear his eyes twitch with only the thought of it.

He tries to keep his pettiness in check for you. Keyword: try. Spoiler alert: he’s not good at it.

He never sees bite marks on your neck, so he thinks everything is okay and still… decent. He freaks out when Arthur points out that Dazai might be biting you on other parts of your body that don’t show when you’re fully dressed. You want to kill Arthur, while Dazai is just giving that closed-eyes smile of his.

Congrats, overprotective brother is back again at full force.

Jean

“I’m dating Dazai.” — “Alright.”

Chill brother ftw!

Sweet, clueless, and innocent brother doesn’t see anything wrong with your relationship.

He’ll just make sure this is what you want and that you’re really happy. He doesn’t need much assurance. He trusts you, and he knows you never lie to him.

He doesn’t have a problem with Dazai, so why should he be worried? 

However, he will miss spending more time with you in the beginning of your relationship. So Dazai makes sure to include him in your plans sometimes. He might even help you teach Jean how to write and read. (This is too wholesome to imagine)

Jean doesn’t even know what ‘the talk’ is. The roles are reversed: Dazai ends up having it with him, and you’re freaking out. It ends well though; it seems your new boyfriend didn’t say anything weird. This time.

His only problem might be if he sees you two leaving the same room in the morning. He won’t think much of it until Arthur makes some comment about it. And now Jean thinks you two need to get married. Congrats and thank you, Arthur.

Arthur

“Dazai asked me to date him.” — “Oh, hell no!” — “Oh, hell yes!”

Anyone but him! Seriously! If you don’t want any of the other residents, he can introduce you to someone! He has some acquaintances downtown... That’s when you hit his arm and glare at him. Okay, message received.

He won’t have ‘the talk’ with Dazai, he can’t stand the idea of having this conversation with Dazai. 

Again, are you sure you don’t want someone else? If you want a writer, even Shakespeare could be acceptable… You hit him again. Fine! Shakespeare wasn’t acceptable either anyway; he was just desperate.

Dazai doesn’t tease Arthur, so your brother will bring up the times Dazai teased you, like that time you two got stuck downtown because of the rain.

And you bring up the times Dazai helped you, or when he tried to cheer you up. You even list all the times he tried to help him, and Arthur was rude to him.

Touché.

Canonly, he wants to see you breaking Dazai’s masks. So he might accept your relationship just so he can see it and finally be able to read him. Spoiler alert: he still can’t read Dazai, and it drives the sore loser him crazy sometimes.

But you can, so he has to shut his mouth and support you. He’ll be happy for you, eventually.

Theo and Vincent

“I’m dating Dazai.” — “You’ve got the worst taste in men.” — “Oh, congrats! Can we all have lunch together sometime?”

Guess who said what.

Vincent is really happy for you! He already knows Dazai, so he doesn’t need to make sure he is a nice person for you. 

Theo is not happy for the exact same reason: he knows Dazai.

He protects you like he protects Vincent and sometimes even more because you are younger. Did you know Dazai goes to the casino? What else does he do downtown? Do you know? Do you seriously trust him?

You have to throw back at Theo that he goes to the pub with Arthur all the time. What does he do there? Why does he only come back in the morning? … Okay, he got it.

Theo promises that he’ll try to contain his brother issues if you’re too upset with him. He doesn’t promise he’ll succeed. Vincent is gladly there to scold him every time.

Vincent will ask if two can pose together for a new painting, while Theo will glare and curse a lot. It’s a lovely painting that you hang in your bedroom.

They’ll both be mad if you shed a single tear because of the writer. Dazai better run, and he better run fast because an angry Vincent is even worse than an angry Theo.

“Sleeping with Dazai is one step removed from sleeping with Arthur.” (he actually says it in Dazai’s route) WAIT. You haven’t slept together yet, have you? HAVE YOU? Vincent had to drag him out of the dining room because Dazai gave that signature smile of his and said, “Oh my, I can’t remember.”

(Imagine Theo lashing out, and Vincent just goes, “Calm down, they just slept together! What’s wrong with sleeping?”)

Theo will try to find a way to have ‘the talk’ with Dazai without you and Vincent knowing. It’ll turn out surprisingly fine, and he starts to trust Dazai a little more. A little.

Arthur is talking about the bite marks not being visible when you’re fully dressed again, just so he can see his best friend losing his mind. Vincent doesn’t understand what’s the problem; he thinks it’s in your arms or some innocent place. God bless this angel.

Theo is back at glaring and cursing.

Napoleon

“Dazai asked me out.” — “Alright, have fun.”

Chill brother ftw! #2 

He knows Dazai and he has nothing against him.

He trusts you and your decisions, so he won’t pry or be an overprotective brother mode.

He taught you self-defense and he knows you’ll come to him if you need something anyway.

He will talk to Dazai, but it won’t be exactly ‘the talk’. He just wants to make sure he’s not just killing time with you, even though that’s not something he believes the writer would do… But he’s gotta make sure. It was nice, like friends chatting to catch up on their lives, y’know?

If Dazai runs away from you like he does on his route before you start dating, he will not be pleased. But he will try to help you out, if you ask.

If a single tear is seen in your eyes, you bet he throws the chill-brother-state-of-mind out of the highest window of the mansion along with Dazai.

Seriously, he won’t freak out about your relationship, and he won’t do anything unless you ask him to. He really just wants you to be happy.

He’ll try to read Dazai’s books. Gotta support family.

(Can we imagine him ruffling your hair and then ruffling Dazai’s hair? Okay, sorry…)

Masterlists

[haikyuuorhaiku2]

Adoration

Oikawa Tooru x reader, light angst

My first post on here, but it's one of my older works! I hope you all enjoy! Comments are always welcome! MDNI!

Adoration: fervent and devoted love. That’s what the basis of the relationship was, it was purely adoration. No matter the time nor the distance that the couple spent apart, the love was always there, even if it hurt to be away from the other, but that’s how it worked for them.

Tooru opened the door to the winter home that the couple was sharing for the seasonal break, desperate for any time together. The house was dark and quiet, as if no one was in the house before he got there, but Tooru knew where his partner would be. He knew her like the back of his hand.

He wandered down the hallway, checking each area that had a window and a windowsill large enough for her body to curl up against. A smile played on his lips as he could picture her right now, curled up on the windowsill, her hair framing her face, a sweater hanging off one shoulder, her eyes focused on something that had caught her attention outside. That was her. That was his girl.

He finally made it to the last room that had a window, the master bedroom. There she was, sitting on the cushioned windowsill exactly how he had imagined her. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, pleased to have finally found his love.

“Hey,” his warm voice echoed through the quiet room, earning a glance from her beautiful orbs.

“You’re back.”

He took tentative steps towards her, not wanting to startle her. Oh man, when was the last time he got to inhale her scent? They must have been apart for months on end. It hurt her and it hurt him, but two very different jobs didn’t allow the young couple much time.

“Of course. I’m sorry to make you wait for me thought.” He stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, while the other was in her hair.

���It’s no issue, Tooru. I’m just glad you’re back.” She leaned her head back into his firm and toned stomach.

She had been sick for the past few months, needing to sleep more frequently than she went to work, resulting in her income freezing. Tooru had to send money just to keep her housed and fed, which the chocolate haired man had no hesitations in doing. His profession, volleyball, kept him away from her more than he liked. Yes, volleyball was his first love, but the woman in front of him was able to fill an emptiness that even volleyball could not fill.

Tooru picked up the woman in his arms and hugged her body close to his. She smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands searching for purchase as she was lifted as though she weighed nothing. Tooru took the girl outside to the snow-covered, vegetation-filled backyard and sat with her on the patio.

“How’s work been?” she asked softly.

“It’s nothing without you there with me,” Oikawa said, a sigh leaving his lips.

He never set her down, making the woman curl up in his lap. He needed this, not only for himself but for her. If he was able to improve her health, even in the slightest, by holding her, he would do it. A shaky hand gripped the sleeve of his shirt as her face made room for itself in the crook of his neck, her skin burning against hers.

Tooru frowned. It looked like his hugs weren’t as helpful after all. Time for the next idea.

He caught her chin, making her look up at him before kissing the sickly woman. Red tinted her cheeks, and she snuggled into his warm body, craving the heat that just radiated from him. Nothing made her happier than to be with Tooru. He knew that she didn’t have much time until her health took a turn for the worse, and honestly, he didn’t know if she would recover again. That thought wasn’t important now, not to him anyways. The pair knew that each time they saw each other, it would probably be the last, but the stress of the illness never stopped the love they had for each other. Their relationship was simple yet complex at the same time. It was the embodiment of undeniably devoted love.

This was true adoration, and that’s all that mattered.

[taweretsdagger]

honestly i'd love to ask you alll the questions and more about "Hydra" my beloved lol but how about 4, 5, 9, and 13? <33

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

ughhhh i love love love soooo much about the way Kate talks to Juliet after they've gotten together. she's still very teasing/challenging a lot of the time, but it always feels like she has this underlying care and understanding and like she wants Juliet to feel safe with her :')

i'll pick one line from a past chapter, and one from the chapter i juuuust posted as a little teaser for ya! :)

from ch 18: “Honey, what was your plan?"

(and the rest of the line too, i just especially love this sweet little call-in hahahha, like Juliet srsly had no sense of direction in her big lying scheme and Kate read her like a damn book.)

from ch 24: “You look like shit,” was what [Kate] finally landed on.

5: What part was hardest to write?

anytime they're on the precipice of something bad happening for sure lol (as we have discussed), i just never want to move them on from the cute happy times and that's usually the point in the fic where i have to put it away for a couple days to build up enough courage to move the plot forward.

i also had a *really* tough time with the chapter where Juliet and Jack are handcuffed (mostly for reasons that relate to the next question, so stay tuned). i almost never re-draft an entire chapter start to finish while i'm editing, but i did for that one. i just really didn't like the way i'd set things up at first and i'm glad i started it over bc i think it came out much better in the end!

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

not exactly an alternate "version," per se, but when i started i was expecting there to be a loooooot more duplicity between Juliet and Kate and a looooot more distrust between Juliet and Jack. like more than we see in the show on both sides, and both were going to be a bigger deal for the overall plot.

but the purpose i sought from this re-imagined timeline in the first place was to show Juliet's journey in breaking away from the Others (and Ben in particular) *because* of the relationships she's able to foster with Kate and Jack. so once i got to the places where that duplicity and distrust were going to manifest they actually felt like too lackluster of a conflict in context of Juliet's overall growth.

i also really love what you said when we were talking about Juliet's lie to Kate a few weeks back, about how writers can find ways to surprise the audience without being cruel. beating the dead horse of Juliet-as-an-Other felt more cruel to me than anything, and moving those primary character dynamics on from that conflict has opened up the story to new conflicts/character dynamics that have been interesting to explore and that i think have made the story richer!

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

for the first half-ish i made a playlist that tracked along with the earlier plot points, featuring Caroline Polachek and Magdalena Bay most heavily plus a good bit of Patsy Cline (of course).

but now the story has changed a lot and the mood of that playlist doesn't fit too well anymore, so for the last few chapters i've mostly listened to Lucy Dacus, Hozier, and Japanese Breakfast!

tysm for asking, and i'd happily answer more questions abt Hydra anytime!!! :) <33

link to orig post:

https://www.tumblr.com/taweretsdagger/775228666676494336/reblog-if-you-are-a-fanfiction-author-and-would?source=share

[generalkenobitrash]

watching hotd s2 ep3 rn.

the intro of the episode was very good. i myself enjoy some blackwoods being cool, i think the show set up benjicot blackwood (edit: turns out it was davos blackwood and they cut the battle of the burning mill) very well. the switch to the aftermath of the battle of the burning mill really showed how men are eager to engage in war and bloodshed. not to mention, it was overall greatly shot. even if some of the writing this season is a little wacky, they keep serving us with amazing cinematography. i have to admit, the scenes between rhaenyra and mysaria are very intriguing. i like the dynamic between them. the conversation between rhaena and rhaenyra was also interesting. i sympathize with poor rhaena. she probably feels so useless without a dragon. her expression when she was about to depart was heartbreaking. imagine feeling like an ordinary babysitter in a family of dragonriders. she understands her duty, but she still feels almost humiliated by being sent away. criston finally got a haircut as ugly as he is inside. ser gwayne slays, as expected of freddie fox. i'm really hoping that alicent will become disillusioned with criston because of his utter idiocy. i do understand what the showrunners wanted to portray with her sexual relationship with him, but we really got too many scenes of them together for my liking. short note on ep1: it would've been more impactful if we (the audience) became aware of their affair at the very end of the episode, when helaena comes into alicent's room with jaehaera. the shots of harrenhal very pretty much exactly what they were supposed to be. i am liking the portrayal of rhaenys and corlys' relationship. they're very alike, as they were in the books, and yet they are still unique and seperate people. mother rhaenyra breaks my heart, especially knowing what will happen to them. jace hugging joffrey was cute. phia saban always blows me away and breaks my heart. that scene between her and alicent...helaena forgave alicent for trying to talk about what she saw between her and criston, when jaehaerys had just been murdered. judging from this scene and the scene on the stairs in s2 makes me believe that helaena understands why her mother seeks affection from the wrong person. helaena herself is in a loveless marriage where her needs do not matter. i do wish the showrunners somehow brought aegon and helaena together in their shared grief. ulf the white is interesting. when i saw the tavern girl, i was like, why is she familiar? then my mind went OH NO IT'S DYANA. i will, however, remain silent about the brothel scene. i really don't have anything to say, aside from noting the courage of ewan mitchell. i love that gwayne does his own thing, not letting criston talk him down. baela proves why she is called 'the brave.' i'm sorry i'm distracted by how pretty they made ser gwayne. i imagine he'll be a delight to watch on the screen in the coming episodes. rhaenyra's council continues to eat her every nerve aside from rhaenys. daemon in his room in harrenhal is giving when you get scammed by your airbnb with all the drippy ceilings. young rhaenyra in harrenhal just perfectly encapsulates daemon's guilt. it was also a very haunting scene. i missed milly alcock. the alys introduction was just perfect. gayle rankin looks perfect as her, though there's something about her voice that will take some getting used to (i'm neurodivergent and i have a thing with voices, don't mind it). i have to say, this episode has been, for now, the best of the season. geeta vasant patel is an amazing director and i expected nothing short of amazing of her.

i am terribly, terribly sorry for the lengthy train of thought. i truly wrote as i watched the episode. truly thought invoking.

edit 2: i was legit thinking "hm i'm kinda bummed out no one's interacting w my post" then i remembered that it's been sitting in my drafts since yesterday. o yeah, this episode has its faults, but atleast it didn't make me thoroughly confused with the writers and showrunners

[knickynoo]

Fic Author Self-Rec

Share five of your personal favorite works, then tag five authors to do the same. Thanks to @bg-sparrow for the tag!

Harborage

Harborage: shelter; refuge Marty spends the weekend with the Browns, who have settled permanently in early 1986. While there, he's forced to deal with the impact of his travels through time.

I have a feeling that no matter how many fics I write, this one will always be the most special to me. It started out with one scene I had stuck in my head (which was written out long before I worked out the actual plot and specifics) and turned into a ten-chapter story that garnered more attention and kind comments than I ever could have imagined. I loved crafting this little post-trilogy world and exploring the time-travel baggage Marty is left with after his adventures. I had a particularly fun time working Clara, Jules, and Verne into it.

2. Despite the Distance

On October 2nd, 1982, Doc entered his garage to find a trespasser who ended up becoming his best friend. But when a mishap with a new invention lands him in an altered 1986 where that meeting never occurred, he's faced not only with figuring out how to set the timeline right but also with the reality of the influence his friendship had on Marty.

A nearly 60,000 word, 17-chapter fic that spawned from this ask I'd gotten about how a BTTF version of "It's a Wonderful Life" would go. I didn't even have anything of value to say to that ask, but it caused the concept to stick in my head, where I continued to roll it around for several weeks. And while it ended up branching away from the initial "It's a Wonderful Life" concept, it did end up being a story where Doc gets to see what Marty's life is like without him.

Creating this altered, "tougher" version of Marty was my favorite part of the whole process, and getting to see him form a tentative friendship with Doc in such different circumstances was such a fun thing to tackle. I still have no idea who sent me that ask, but if you see this post: thank you. This story was challenging and emotional and a blast to write, and I'm so pleased at the way it's connected with people.

3. So, Your Brother's Befriended a Mad Scientist

Working as assistant for the town's most mysterious inventor isn't exactly a job Dave would've expected Marty to get, but it sure is an interesting one.

My most recent fic! Have you ever wanted to see a fic about Doc and Marty's friendship written entirely from Dave McFly's point of view? No? Well, I wrote it anyway. And I loved every second of it. Dave is a wonderful big brother, and I'm already looking forward to utilizing him more in the future.

4. In Case of Emergency

Who else is a kid supposed to call for a late-night rescue?

Perhaps my laziest summary, but one of my favorite one-shots. A little slice of life in which Marty decides to go to a party, immediately decides "this is bogus," and calls Doc to come pick him up. A lovely little look at their dynamic and the trust Marty places in his best friend. Also featuring: Doc having an entire conversation with his dog.

5. The Real You

Alex gets ready for a date with Ellen and, in typical fashion, is a nervous wreck. Good thing Mallory is there to provide some words of wisdom.

I really struggled with what to put in this final spot, but I'm going with my one and only (for now) Family Ties fic. Writing Alex is intimidating, but I enjoyed putting this together and being able to include some nice sibling relationship moments between him and Mallory. I've got a bunch of notes on additional FT one-shots that I want to write at some point. I'm so used to writing Doc and Marty at this point, and it's nice to have all these other characters to write about and Put In Situations.

I'm going to leave this open to anyone who wants to take the opportunity to talk about some of their favorite fics they've written :)

[lisannastraussisanangel]

I really like Gajeel and Juvia friendship , I wonder what have you got any hcs for them in a romantic way ?

I used to ship them before I got into Gale XD still got a soft spot for this ship lol

Lemme see what I can do! I def considered shipping them after Juvia brought him to the guild like that's so cute

They used to mess around in Phantom. Never anything serious tho

Gajeel, knowing how Juvia is, was super nervous that she'd catch feelings. And then when Juvia brought him to FT, he was convinced she had

Mans started panicking. He was like wtf is he gonna do, he's not ready for a relationship, etc

And because Gajeel is always super calm, cool, and collected... he immediately tensed when she was near and debated running away

Juvia wasn't even considering resuming their previous agreement. But Gajeel was convinced she was trying to start something. So after every interaction he would go home and freak out

It took him awhile to figure out that Juvia wasn't being weird, but that he had just caught feelings and didn't know how to deal with it

So he did what every reasonable person would do and ignored it

That is until someone accused them of dating and in his embarrassment he totally blew his cover and everyone figured out he had the hots for Juvia

Including Juvia, who teased him about it pretty mercilessly

Until Gajeel finally snapped and admitted his crush

Their actual relationship is pretty chill. Juvia is the jealous type but no one actually hits on Gajeel (cause he's scary) so Juvia doesn't freak out too much

Juvia is almost always draped all over him. He feigns annoyance, but when she moves to leave his lap, he pulls her right back

Date nights for them are metal concerts. Nothing like moshing all night and then cuddling while nursing their wounds

[veliseraptor]

I would love to know your thoughts on the vegas + porsche relationship post canon. also vegas and kinn, kinn and pete, pete and porsche - literally all of them it fascinates me but also I can’t get it completely straight in my head! 💚

ahhhh yes. I am planning on...at least attempting to write something that digs a little more into post-canon relationship stuff around vegas and pete both as individuals and together because the thing I love about all of these dynamics is how messy they are! like damn!

breaking this down by relationship and it's going to get long...

vegas and kinn: obviously that's been nowhere good for a while (though I do like to think that they got along at least decently for a while when they were kids, even if I'm sure they butted heads a lot because they are both stubborn and bossy and like to get their own way), and post-canon it's...even worse, I think. because vegas did pretty clearly and definitely cross a line that the major/minor family conflict has been dancing along for years and openly pit himself against kinn, including being about two inches and an exploding robot from shooting kinn, porsche, or both. and that not even getting into everything about vegas's game with porsche (and how much that kicks up a lot of shit, both anger on porsche's behalf and also, yeah, I'm gonna say there's a substantial bit of jealousy in there).

vegas fucked kinn over and kinn is a little mad about that, I would imagine! a wee bit peeved! possibly not entirely pleased that vegas survived! and dealing with it by either (a) pretending his cousins don't exist as much as possible and (b) rubbing vegas's nose in porsche's new status whenever he gets the chance (porsche does not appreciate this. kinn mostly does it when he's not around). and this drives vegas absolutely up the wall to the ceiling because there's nothing he can do about it and this is exactly the reification and affirmation of everything his dad ever said about him not being good enough and never being on kinn's level. so that's grinding sand in that wound.

I am invested in them having some kind of a relationship that's not, you know, 100% hostility and loathing but honestly getting them there is kind of a tall order. there's a lot of bad blood under the bridge, as it were, and the fact that, from vegas's perspective, kinn got everything he wanted...is gonna smart for a while.

kinn and pete: and then there's this one! I feel like I see people writing pete as having switched his loyalties over without much looking back or sense of divided loyalties, and I don't actually think that'd be the case for him: I think there'd be a lot of times for pete that, after the fact, he's struggling a little with not just the unfamiliarity of his life suddenly having none of the structure that he's used to (and that, I headcanon, he's been living with since he was pretty young), but also with not really knowing what to do with the fact that he still has a lot of attachments to the main family. they still matter to him, even above and beyond the ways in which he's a little bit hard-wired to hop when a theerapanyakul tells him to do something.

pete's very loyal and just setting those former loyalties aside would not, I don't think, come easily to him if at all.

so he's now living in this weird limbo where he's very much tied to vegas, but everyone else he knows (pretty much, we'll get to porsche in a minute) thinks he's lost his mind about it and hates vegas very much right now (or at least is very wary and suspicious, at best), and that's got to not feel very good! it's isolating and uncomfortable on the one hand and on the other it's not fun to feel like everyone around you hates the person you love.

so then there's kinn - kinn who does seem to genuinely care about his bodyguards to a certain extent, and certainly trusts pete a great deal, and almost certainly feels very very bad about the whole thing where he forgot him for a little while there. I think kinn, for his part, is very disappointed and a little bit betrayed/hurt by pete's choice (though not nearly as melodramatically as tankhun is), even if I don't think he'd say so.

but I think he would still want to treat pete more or less the same as ever (sometimes including the reflexive I'm-your-boss-do-what-I-say attitude) and just...aggressively ignore the vegas part of his life. which for pete is both painful and painfully awkward and generates a lot of relationship tension, because you know who ends up getting the brunt of vegas's temper about that particular move? it's not kinn generally speaking

and on pete's end...pete's in this place where I think he'd really like to keep at least a cordial relationship with kinn even if it feels very weird to not be his employee (by proxy) anymore, the idea of being friends with him is sort of too weird to conceptualize, but he feels like he's being put in a position constantly of having to Choose between his relationship with vegas and...being able to have interactions with kinn, and he does not enjoy that feeling, even if vegas was reasonable about it, which mostly he isn't. (I think he would try. I think he would try and always eventually fail.)

so that's, you know, awkward.

pete and porsche: honestly I think this is the simplest one on this list, though even that's got some awkward teeth because pete is not, I don't think, quite sure how he's supposed to relate to porsche-the-minor-family-head, if he's supposed to act differently than he did with porsche-the-bodyguard (porsche says no, pete thinks probably the answer should be yes, and will be yes in public, but if they're just with friends then it's fine, probably, but it still feels weird).

but like...porsche is maybe the only?? person who's basically looked at the whole major/minor family conflict and gone "yeah I don't want to get into that" and, despite the fact that vegas almost shot him, has decided to let bygones be more or less bygones. and anyway that was vegas, and not pete, and whatever the heck is going on there pete seems...okay not fine but less of a mess than he was before the coup, somehow, so. pete's a friend and porsche wants him to stay a friend. even if he did sort of abandon him to torture and suffering and then set him up so vegas could see him. but it worked out??? apparently????

and that has to be such a relief to pete, just to have at least one person for whom he doesn't have to completely bifurcate his life in two, who still talks to him without ever looking at him like he's either gone crazy or been taken hostage, and who doesn't seem like he'd prefer pete's boyfriend dead. that's nice! he's not going to take it for granted! even if there are still weird things I think pete's relationship with porsche comes out of canon okay. and thank god for that.

vegas and porsche: I've talked before about how I feel like I'm still wrapping my head around their dynamic and that's still true, but I do feel like I have a better sense of where they are post-canon than during canon, particularly as far as vegas's porsche feelings, which are a monstrous mix of resentment and exhaustion and "well, this might as well happen" frustrated resignation and confusion and so on and so forth. it's a mess. there's no getting around the fact that porsche is now walking around with the position vegas always expected to have, and that definitely sticks in vegas's craw regardless of how much, at this point, he actually wants that position (and I don't think vegas knows yet how not to want it, at least symbolically if not in actuality. he would've liked to have been asked, etc.).

but porsche is also out here probably just straight up asking vegas for information and advice and his thoughts and opinions, both strategically and because porsche is smart enough to know that's at least one possible way to keep vegas from becoming a potentially very dangerous enemy. and vegas knows that's what he's doing but also when he's in a position where he's feeling rootless and useless and like he has no idea what to do with himself...it gives him some kind of anchor, which is very valuable. and porsche is personable and likeable and I do think vegas likes him as a person, so even as he's bristling about all the context when he actually spends time with porsche it's hard to just straight up hate him.

it is much easier to hate porsche's guts in the abstract than in the reality, and porsche is invested in making it harder, actually :) for pete's sake, and his own, but also while I think porsche is (wisely) wary of vegas and isn't about to trust him, I don't think he's going to completely write him off, either. though yeah. the trust definitely isn't there and I don't think they'd be completely comfortable around each other anytime soon.

anyway here's an essay about My Thoughts on Kinnporsche Post-Canon Character Dynamics, no idea if you wanted that much but, well. I have, as usual, a lot of opinions.

[chucktaylorupset]

Hinged Essay Writing Method

@catching-fire-in-the-wind asked for un/hinged essay writing methods and got the utilitarian version that should be used if you need to finish an essay Right Now but this is the fun rambly meandering anecdotal full backstory version

In terms of objective quantity of insanity I don't know anything that comes close to purposeful sleep trancing, but to be fair I also don't know anybody else nearly as insane as the guy who does them.

In terms of writing methods that are objectively similarly a bad idea and damaging to your long term health...  I knew somebody who used to drink heavily to get essay's written?  They are not doing this anymore, and are a year and a half sober, they’re doing very well and I’m very proud of them but yeah, would not recommend.

like, I wish it could go without saying but DO NOT TRY DRINKING AS AN ESSAY WRITING METHOD.

Nobody tells you the consequence of having your insane essay method writing story passed around tumblr is that all of the notes will exclusively be people talking about how they have done exactly that or, that they now plan to try it, which means you are responsible.  I very much wanted to set up a sign begging for no please don’t do this or like.  A charity collection plate for more hinged essay writing methods. 

Anyway, this isn't an insane essay method, just one that makes me insane.

Many a years ago I was on a walk with my mom.  This was so long ago that we were walking together by choice and not because all of her other running buddies were on the other side of a quarantine bubble. 

My mom is a pretty cool and smart lady who knows me fairly well but she did not need to be any of those things to notice that I will talk like its the only use for oxygen sometimes and that despite being an opinionated person who speaks not in sentences but in novels and paragraphs, I have a strangely hard time getting anything fucking done when it comes to essays.

So she wanted me to try something new.  There was this nifty little article that had come across her feed when she was up in the early morning taking time to herself and I was in bed continuing my best impression of a corpse for the next four hours.  The article was about the improvement to google's speech to text technology. 

My mom proposed that as someone who spoke very much and managed to write very little, I might benefit from this magical technology that would take the thing I had a surplus of and turn it into a thing that, you know, I actually wanted and was useful, like taking weeds in animal crossing and using the crafting mechanic to turn them into a variety of delightful little woven hats, which my mom would be doing a lot of when quarantine hit.

I presumably recognized the wisdom of this sick gamer strat and the love and care with which it was constructed, and told her it was a great idea and I would do it immediately the next time I wanted to write.

I then did not do that.

Mulitple years and one (1) global health crisis later I was fucking around on tumblr and saw a long post being passed around in early early early preparation for National Novel Writing month, part of which suggested using voice notes. 

Huh, I thought to myself, reblogging it to save for later, I should do that.

I then also did not do that.

A month later my partner was having trouble with an assignment.  My partner is, if it's even possible, an even bigger talker than me.  They also are a far more adept researcher, and so had quite a bit to say, both about the cool things they had found out for the assignment and also what utter shit the extremely vague prompt was. 

In addition to shitty course infrastructure, my partner is majorly dyslexic and adhd and so uh imagine the worst time you could have in school they've done that and also this assignment and course in general was tempting them to consider going back to their old way of solving this problem: drinking.

So I was having them talk to me about it, as the designated English major of the relationship, and taking notes hoping to turn it into an outline they could use when I was struck like lightning by an idea so insane it just might work.

I was like haha this is so crazy my mom has this cool little trick we should totally try it do you have a speech to text voice app on your phone.

They did.

I was like haha it's so unfortunate I just really don't understand your second source, and I've like totally forgotten it even though you just told me, could you maybe.... explain it again in its entirety into the microphone?

They explained it into the microphone

I was like wow, I think I understand now.  But didn't you relate it to that other piece of evidence?  How does that work, and also what was that piece of evidence

They talk about that other piece of evidence, and how the two different sources interrelate and work.

It should be known that I am acting my heart out here.  I have no poker face to speak of, being an expressive person and terrified of poker, but I am hauling out my best bimbo impression and gunning it for an oscar.

Anyway I was like oh cool now what if you tried copy pasting that into your document as a rough draft and then editing it into an essay.

And at that point they looked at me and were like. Wait.

I immediately reveal my brillaint deception, because I want credit for how amazing I was, and also its best to have a very narrow timeline between action and reveal when you're benevolently manipulating your partner.

As relationship benefits go, there is only one thing comparable to the joy of repeatedly doing a bit your partner doesn't like. Oh in that vein, purple car.  The only thing comparable is the joy of subtly manipulating them for their own good only getting to reveal it like a grandiose and suprisingly competent camp saturday cartoon villain.  And the only that surpasses both of those is blatant manipulation that nonetheless, still works.

My partner got their essay turned in, I joked they owed my mom a fruit basket next time we were in town.

Flash forward a few months.  I had an essay that was 75% of my grade.  By the grace of professor, I was allowed to pick the media I did it on, as long it was on theme, so it was actually about a movie I really liked and had a lot of things to say about it and interesting ways to say them.

Or at least I did when bitching to my partner or imagining myself interviewed while on a walk or in the shower.  I had yet to write a single word.  It was kind of important that I finish this because, as the more astute number wizards amongst you will have divised, it is mathematically impossible for me to pass this class without it.

But I am a writer!  You can tell because at this point I have nine whole fics on my AO3 my handle there is chucktaylorupset if you want to go check those out they're pretty cool i think.  You do not understand I am an ARTISTE.  I do not need technology, or hacks, or trickery, I do not need to do anything but sit down and write.

My partner fails to be convinced by this argument.  Clearly they have no understanding of the nature of the artistic spirit.

Using their phone, I record a brief version of the arguments I had been bothering them with instead of my word document for the past month.  They send me the audio file (despite the both of us having androids on their phone has a simultaneous speech to text AND voice memo program.  This both does and does not surprise me, on the one hand why would that not come pre-installed on all devices, on the other hand my phone is Terrible. This is a hundred percent baiting you to give me app recommendations I still have not found a good free voice/speech to text combo app.

I spoke into the microphone for less than nine minutes.  I came out with a draft of over ONE THOUSAND WORDS.  Because it was a movie I didn’t even need quotations, all I had to do was edit and submit.

My partner made sure to be very gracious when they immediately snitched to my mom about how she was right.  My mom was delighted, and not even a little smug it was horrible.

The moral of the story is that mom's are the worst.  And even worse than that, they're right.

[ramp-it-up]

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One.  I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then.... 

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left. 

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact.  You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues. 

 It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down. 

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck. 

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace. 

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront.  It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network. 

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags.  And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere. 

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.  

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye. 

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.  

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you.  It just felt right. 

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic. 

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much. 

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.  

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together. 

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions. 

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success. 

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well. 

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again. 

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move. 

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.  

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about. 

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed. 

Kevin. 

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks.  Chris was in a rage for a week. 

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.  

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.  

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding. 

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else. 

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth. 

Maybe you too could be friends. 

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm.  He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond.  He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later. 

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play. 

----- 

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?  

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him. 

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris?  This is Y/N.  I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you. 

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry.  I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone.  You just never believed that Chris would really move on.  And you didn’t know why. 

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries!  Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed. 

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot. 

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You  were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him. 

And that wink. 

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed. 

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off. 

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology. 

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging. 

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin.  You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped. 

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.  

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option. 

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend. 

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics.  His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”  

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy.  Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered. 

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance.  Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set.  Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over. 

“What can I get you, Sir.” 

“I don’t need a drink.  I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party.  I need it to be extra special.”  

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see. 

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.” 

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.  

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin. 

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be.  You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills. 

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”  

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking. 

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN!  WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.” 

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban. 

“Listen to me.. Listen.  I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent.  You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him.  He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”  

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face.  Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”  

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”  

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.  

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred.  That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan.  Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great.  I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”  

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad.  Chris was so sweet.  You thought about him and you thought about Kevin. 

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?  

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.  

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.  

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.”  You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that  for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.  

“Word?”  You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand.  The one you knew he jacked off with.  You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm.  Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again. 

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

 Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.” 

 Then you snapped out of it.  

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.  

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him. 

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?”  Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.” 

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell. 

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”  

You looked at Kevin, too.  You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.” 

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him.  The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you.  “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?”  You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard.  Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.” 

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it.  He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”  

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe.  He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own.  He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue.  You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage.  He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him.  You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”  

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long.  You pulled it out with a pop.  

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X.  He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more.  His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.”  You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City.  He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.  

“So you want me to feel you up?”  He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you. 

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass?  Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game. 

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too.  It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult.  He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down.  Is it true?”  

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand.  Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris.  Only you.. Since you and I….”  Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.  

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again. 

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly.  He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!”  Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted?  You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh?  You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?”  He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.”  Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”  

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”  

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him. 

 “Please!”

“I know why.” 

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit.  He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly. 

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick.  He didn’t have to move.  Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him.  He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?” 

You searched his face.  He sounded like he was about to cry.  You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid.  You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris.  I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.  

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly.  You on your knees for him again was a dream. 

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”  

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you. 

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you.  It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought. 

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give. 

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet. 

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.  

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you. 

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done.  You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.  

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.” 

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor.  He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”  

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know.  None of that meant that we’re back together.  That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?” 

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own.  You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.”  You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”  

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove. 

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees.  He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body.  He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you.  He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”  

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

--- 

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.  

“We’re going to Aruba?”  

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching.  That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.  

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.” 

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower.  You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog! 

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[autisticandroids]

Oh patron saint of mpreg, tell us, what is the absolute gold standard canon divergent mpreg scenario with Cas and Dean?

so for me the gold standard is for cas to get pregnant due to some kind of magical or metaphysical situation that dean at least does not perceive as sex. bonus points is cas is hesitant about it but refuses to explain why (because he doesn't know how dean will deal with the concept of himself being able to potentially get cas pregnant), so dean is like "we're doing it anyway" and then they do it and then cas doesn't tell anyone that he is pregnant until circumstances force the information out of him. and then dean has to deal with the fact that 1) cas can get pregnant, 2) cas is pregnant, 3) it's his, and he does so pretty poorly.

the rest is under a cut because this post is over 2.5k words long.

my favorite times for this to happen are at the end of season nine, just before dean dies and gets demonized in do you believe in miracles, and at the start of season twelve, just before sam and dean go to jail, because the pining in both those scenarios is delicious but it is so much more powerful if cas is also pregnant, and never even told dean. double points if the truth somehow comes out while they're separated so when dean comes back it's like. yeah cas is pregnant. it's yours. welcome home dean now you have to coddle cas' emotions because he thought he would have to raise your baby alone.

the season twelve scenario is particularly delicious because 1) we can have lucifer slut shaming cas in front of crowley in rock never dies, so crowley knows before dean, and 2) much more importantly, mary is there, and i am obsessed with like. okay. several things.

- the idea of mary getting all baby fever because she misses her boys and this is like. a baby she can take care of because she never got to take care of sam

- the idea of dean working through some of his parentification trauma by coparenting a child with the parent whose place he felt he had to take

- the idea of mary coming in and projecting her insane 1980s gender roles all over cas, suddenly treating him like a woman, stripping him of agency, etc. and like. dean would also do this even though he's not from the eighties, but mary would do it double strength, and they would reinforce each other, it would be a nightmare

- also mary trying to relate to cas on the Travails Of Motherhood etc. and cas being like ?????????? like i cannot stress enough that the weird gender roles she projects onto cas are also standards that she held herself to back when she was a Wife And Mother. while cas is like mary i am not a human woman and also i don't see what "having to look pretty for my man when i'm all baby bloaty" has to do with anything. that's not something i feel like i have to do

oh and 3) could you imagine lily sunder has some regrets if cas was pregnant? unfathomable episode. like ishim and mirabel's reaction but ALSO lily's. and it would fix the number one issue i have with lily sunder, which is that the resolution of the moral dilemma is "well AKSHUALLY the kid was human and not a nephilim so killing it was bad" rather than "it was bad to kill lily's baby, full stop." like ishim's cover up and using the machinery of power to manipulate the truth is very compelling, but the fact that it results in the moral essentially being "it would have been okay if the kid had been a nephilim" suuuuuucks.

basically, there's a reason i have two entire mpreg aus set in season twelve.

and then the delicious part in the season nine version is like. one, dean is away for much longer and he could be anywhere. also he's a demon and he's cheating on cas with crowley. and then even when cas gets him back he's still cursed with the mark, so we can get all weepy over that. you know. i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world and i'm eight months pregnant. etc etc.

but the other thing that's juicy about this version is that cas is still semi-involved with the other angels at this point, like he's roadtripping around with hannah and they're trying to get heaven under control, so carrying a nephil is going to really affect those relationships. so he's going to be probably disliked by the other angels, and there are MANY opportunities for slut-shaming, but at the same time, the other "outcast" type angels might respect him for violating heaven's dictates.

and then of course there's his grace vampirism victorian wasting disease. in canon he's perfectly happy to let himself die, but if he were having dean's baby he would absolutely not do that, that's dean's baby he's endangering there. so of course there's the terrible guilt of having to kill other angels so he can live, plus potentially preparing to die shortly after childbirth so he doesn't have to keep killing. delicious.

and on top of all this cas can get slutshamed by metatron in, depending on when exactly he gets knocked up, meta fiction, stairway to heaven, and do you believe in miracles. plus stairway to heaven would be insane like all the angels would know that cas is pregnant. they would see it in his grace. like cas' angel army would just. know that he was pregnant with a nephil, and have to accept that because he's their leader. in love with humanity indeed.

i'm trying to think of other good times for this drama with cas getting secretly pregnant through a nonsexual interaction to take place. it would be great in season six. like: he's doing a blasphemy with his body but at the same time he's this big important rebel leader so they can't say shit about him, and also he's pregnant while fighting these big important battles (fun and sexy), AND this is like, hot on the heels of the realization that something about his feelings for dean is untoward, expands beyond the bounds of ordinary friendship and camaraderie. like he realizes that, and maybe even that he has sexual feelings for dean, and then he gets immediately knocked up. stunning.

it would ALSO be extremely fun for it to be some kind of... i don't know, magical longer gestation times, whatever, but for cas to have gotten pregnant sometime in s5 and only realized during the Year Of Lisa. LOVE to watch a man rake leaves while both metaphorically carrying the taint of taboo sexual feelings for him and literally carrying his child.

but the thing about season six is, first of all, cas isn't really... envisioning a future with dean. not the way he does in the later seasons. like does he fantasize about a future with dean? yes. like. he really did watch that motherfucker rake leaves. but it's only fantasy. he expected to never speak to dean again after swan song until dean prayed to him in the third man. he's obsessed with dean, but it's distant. remote.

like, we talk about cas babytrapping dean in the later seasons with jack, and he absolutely does, and he would do it even more if dean got him literally pregnant, but that babytrap is about... how do i put this. it's about winning dean's affection. late seasons cas knows that he's going to die by dean's side. the difference that babytrapping dean makes is that maybe it will get dean to be nice to him in the mean time, instead of discarding him like so much toilet paper.

but season six cas doesn't think of it like that. if he were gonna babytrap dean, it would be in the more traditional sense of forcing dean to stay with him in order to raise their child together. and he would never do that. he wants dean to have a happy future, which in his mind does not include him. like, compare here "he's retired and he's to stay that way" in the man who would be king, where cas assumes that dean is happy without him and expects him to live out his days peacefully without ever seeing him again, to "i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world" in the prisoner, where cas assumes that he will be by dean's side for centuries.

but anyway, the other, much more important problem with season six is that cas has a war to fight. like, in the later seasons, cas really has nothing. even when he's on tenuous good terms with the angels, he doesn't really have a home with them. the winchesters are his family, and he'd give up anything for them. he has nothing in his life. he's at rock bottom, and this becomes truer the further along you go. late seasons cas has nothing he would prioritize over serving the winchesters, and he would be happy dropping anything he was involved in to have and raise dean's baby. parenting would give him a purpose that he no longer has, because everything else has been stripped from him.

but in season six cas has a life outside of them. like yes, he has a war to fight, but he also has a place in heaven, with the other angels. he belongs somewhere, he has solid connections to the outside world. even if he didn't have a war to fight, i don't know how excited he would be to have and raise a baby (even dean's baby) because he simply has other things he could be doing. he's involved in the world beyond the winchesters.

like, the reason cas wants to be a parent is that he is totally alone and totally purposeless. having a child gives him both a reason for being and someone who will always love him and who he can care for. if he doesn't have that hole in his life he might not be so eager to fill it with a baby.

for all these reasons, this plotline really doesn't work in season six, because you simply cannot justify cas not getting an abortion, unless you do something nasty like make angel abortion impossible, which i don't love.

you COULD somehow put the impregnation just at the end of season six, maybe just before the man who would be king, such that cas doesn't realize he's pregnant until he's already godstiel. you guys are unfortunately very aware of how obsessed i am with pregnant godstiel.

actually, @jeanne-de-valois has a concept of like. a single, madness fueled midnight hookup immediately pre-tmwwbk (or maybe even during, but prior to the superman mistake), where cas is simultaneously so stressed from being stretched so thin from the war and the lying and the shady dealings, and so high on being The Big Man In Heaven, that he's bold and out of his mind enough to actually come onto dean, like he just appears one night in dean's bedroom and is like, fuck me, and dean is like 👁👄👁 okay. so they have one single adrenaline and madness fueled hookup, and then everything immediately goes to shit.

and i think that's a great place for cas to get pregnant, and then he doesn't realize until he's become god, or maybe he does and he's just like "i'll deal with it later," either way godstiel is like oh? i carry dean's heir inside me? i will have dean's baby. i will have dean's baby it is my right and also my boon to him and also a symbol of my great and magnanimous love for humanity. and also maybe i will put giant paintings of myself pregnant with his child up in churches. what about that. which would be fun. don't know when he would give birth though. actually it would be insane if he gave birth as emmanuel and was just like. raising dean's nephil when dean found him again. nuts. but it just doesn't really have the same flavor as late seasons mpreg. doesn't compel me nearly as much. like the symbolism of godstiel being pregnant with dean's child is fun and sexy but them actually raising the kid afterwards doesn't compel me nearly as much, so it's better to leave literal mpreg to the later seasons and let godstiel mpreg reside in symbolism and fantasy.

or maybe the fetus gets stolen by the leviathans when cas walks into the lake and dean has to battle his leviathanated nephil daughter as the main villain of s7. like she's dick roman's secret weapon. i think that would be fun, actually. kind of an emma situation but drawn out over the whole season. and he thinks cas is dead for most of it so she's all he's got left of cas and a mess cas left for him to clean up. big sexy.

and as a bonus, i will also tell you the best time, imo, for dean to get pregnant: near the end of season eight. possibly a single, tragic farewell fuck in sacrifice when cas is planning to lock himself away in heaven and they're never gonna see each other again. and this impregnates dean with cas' nephil.

but then cas is human. and he can't do anything about it. like generally if they managed to get dean pregnant somehow, cas would immediately talk him into an abortion (which wouldn't be too hard; dean's natural white midwestern man who doesn't vote aversion to abortion would be at war with the horror of being pregnant, and the horror would win), or might not even inform dean that he's pregnant, and just quietly end the pregnancy without dean's knowledge, because cas would never put dean through that. but if cas is human, he can't do that. and furthermore, that nephil is the last evidence of his angelic nature that persists. it's the last of what he used to be, the last of his grace. and there's something absolutely delectable about that.

then of course dean would have to leave the bunker if he was pregnant with a nephil, because angels would be after him, and he wouldn't want to lead them to gadreel, so i am imagining dean discovering that he's pregnant and then showing up in a panic at the gas n sip like "actually cas i'm also out of the bunker will you go on the run with me?" and then they go on the run and have to live in motels again and cas gets to live with take care of dean who is pregnant with his child which is essentially his dream, and he doesn't have to feel guilty because he's no longer capable of giving dean an abortion so he doesn't feel obligated to get him to have one. ideally cas gets re-angeled just in time to give dean an angelic c-section. or maybe they rely on a normal human c-section in a hospital and cas stays human and they are two humans raising their nephil, which is also fun to me.

[highpope]

pieced together pt. one

posting here too because not that many people have seen it also sorry for the weird spacing idk what’s going on

JJ Maybank x pogue reader - season 2 fic

spoiler warning!

You laid in bed watching the rain hit your windows, the radio downstairs faintly describes the fate of the world. You can’t make out complete sentences without straining, but you have heard enough from the last few days to know there were no updates about John B and Sarah. The radio has been on for days on end, your parents not wanting to miss any possible update about your friends or the storm that seemed never-ending. It was like it rained for years. It was a constant reminder of the night your two best friends were driven out into the storm and everything changed. You could hear Shoupe’s words in the back of your mind, “we lost ‘em' ' on a constant loop. You could see Kiara’s face and JJ’s hands and Pope’s heart shatter. Like all the stars had come falling down and you were the only one left to pick up all the pieces. You prayed this was all a nightmare. You could wake up and not only would they both be here, but you’d all be safe. You would give up the gold a hundred times over if it meant John B and Sarah would be home.

Both Pope and Kie’s parents had called your mom every night since that day. When she thought you were asleep, she would creep down the stairs and sit in the kitchen and cry, praying they had some good news. Something that could take away some of the pain you were in. But she couldn’t, no one could. You had to hear half the town talk about John B like he was a murderer like he kidnapped Sarah like he was some delusional kid from the cut. All while you knew the Cameron’s were roaming free and receiving sympathy for what they’re going through. It made you sick to think about. They had a private funeral for Sarah. People gave their condolences and spoke so kindly about her. They scoffed at her recent behavior and her newfound friendship from “those dirty pogues.”

Sometime around day two, your mom came into your room asking if you had heard from JJ. He had been with the Heyward’s up until that morning when he’d completely disappeared.

For a second, you felt something other than grief, knowing he had been with Pope and not his dad, but that was short-lived. You tried to imagine how peaceful it would have been under different circumstances, a world in which he was always safe. One where Luke Maybank had no control over his life. You wanted to get lost in that daydream, live in that alternative reality for a while. He wouldn’t have to keep a duffel bag full of clothes and cash under your bed for when things got bad. He wouldn’t have to know how to do stitches on himself or how to pop a dislocated shoulder back in place. He’d be safe. He’d be happy. She asked again if you had heard from JJ, snapping you back to reality. (you had not). You watched as her forehead creased and her lips straightened into a thin line, like something in her had broken too.

She hurts just as much as you do. At first, you contributed that to her not being able to take away your pain, which is part of it. But you later realized she’s lost a person, too. You had known John B since grade school, there were pictures of the group of you sitting on your swing set in your backyard at age nine. Ones of you, JJ, John B, and Pope asleep in your living room after attempting to build a fort. He stayed for dinners and birthday parties. She watched us grow up, every first day of school, soccer game, fishing tournament. Our families had somehow combined over the years. Not only does your mom hurt for you, but she lost a child. And that weight is heavier than anything.

You stopped crying by day three. Nothing left. You were completely and utterly numb but consumed by loss all at the same time. You hadn’t initially worried about JJ. He did this. He disappeared for a little, to clear his head, but he always came back. He never stayed away for more than three days. That’s how long it took for him to feel balanced again, maybe less, but never more. He said it was because he couldn’t get a burger as good as the ones at The Wreck anywhere else in the world, but you knew how much he loved the outer banks and the people there. You also knew that he’d never leave without you. And if he absolutely had to, he would at least say goodbye. He had to, he promised. You held on to that every time his phone went straight to voicemail. And when days four and five came and went and you still haven’t heard from him, you were worried. He should’ve crawled through your window in yesterday’s clothes with a few more scratches on his arm than he left with, but his eyes would glow a little brighter and he would still smile when you insisted he spends the night. So, when you cracked your window open and slept with your bedside lamp on (so that he could see the light from outside) and he still wasn’t there when you awoke, your mourning turned into something else. You sent a few texts, in case he somehow got them, but you were doubtful.

You didn’t know what it was like to live without him. There wasn’t a time in your life you could remember when you and JJ weren’t attached at the hip. Sometime around kindergarten, you two became inseparable, ultimately meeting John B and Pope as you got older and Kie when you all got to junior high. There was a weird couple of months around third grade where he decided girls had cooties, but it was short-lived because when JJ realized that meant you couldn’t be friends anymore he thought it was dumb and started coming over again. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when your relationship changed, the lines between friendship and something more merging and becoming blurred. If you had to, for you it was the start of sophomore year. Something changed when you were together, even just sitting in silence was comfortable and exciting. Eyes started lingering, touches became more frequent, and then one day you were just together. It’s been the same since. You think back to the first time you kissed like a couple. It definitely hadn’t been the first time the two of you had ever kissed. You were sure there had been at least one during your childhood and you vividly remember a New Year’s Eve party and a couple of games of truth or dare. But this time it was different. There was something behind it.

You and JJ sat side by side in the hammock outside of John B’s. He was smoking while using his one leg to rock the two of you slowly back and forth. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and pay attention to whatever story was being told. JJ must have noticed because he wrapped an arm around you, inviting you to lay on his chest.

This wasn’t uncommon between you. JJ was always physically affectionate toward the people he cared about and you had no problem reciprocating. You stayed just like that until it was just the two of you left outside.

JJ shifted slightly under your weight causing you to wake up. “Shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, tossing the tip of the blunt into the fire.

You nodded, “mhm.” You looked around, realizing how dark it had gotten, “You could’ve woken me up! It’s late.”

“You looked peaceful.”

You pretended to clutch your heart, “JJ Maybank being nice? Dare I say sweet?”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes. He was smiling at you like you were the funniest person in the world.

“ No, no. You care about me,” you joked, poking his chest with your finger, “you loooove me.”

“ Yeah?” he challenged, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said, your breath suddenly catching in your throat.

“What if I do?” He asked, but it wasn’t a question. His face was serious, a glimmer of hope in his crystal eyes.

You look slightly from his eyes to his lips. If JJ noticed he didn’t lead on. He just slowly bridged the gap between you, your noses brushing for a moment before your lips connected. It was slow and careful, not wanting to push too far, but all the same, wanting to completely unravel the other. His hand cupped your cheek, his rings cold against your flushed face as you leaned into the kiss.

You heard faint screams and cheers from inside the chateau and Pope’s “Finally!” echo out. You could feel him smiling and soon enough you were both laughing. You had finally come together and nothing would take that away.

On day six, the rain stopped and the world carried on as normal. You wanted to yell at every person you saw. How could anyone feel so neutral about anything that happened in the last week? The sheriff was dead, there was a murderer on the loose, your two best friends were gone, and your boyfriend was missing. But yeah, go ahead and go to the grocery store like any other Wednesday morning. Someone tell the earth, it’s not supposed to keep spinning after the world ends.

You were lying on your bed, staring at your ceiling as you tried to fall asleep, a breeze flowed through your window and your lamp illuminated the room. All you could hear were cicadas and the wind rustling through the trees until you heard your window creak and slide open. You tried to process everything all at once, your eyes scanning over every part of his body, trying to meet his eyes. He was wearing the same clothes he had on the last time you saw him. There was dirt under his fingernails and his face was puffy from crying. His lip was cracked and covered in dry blood and bruises littered his jaw and hands. You could cry at the mere sight of him. Before either of you could speak, you collided.

You held his head to your chest and placed kisses on his hairline. You tried to wipe your tears before he could see them, but it was no use. The two of you were a tangle of arms and legs, of broken hearts and misguided minds, so desperately trying to tell the other it was going to be okay without believing it yourself.

“I miss him so much,” he sobbed. Your heart fell to your stomach and everything you had pushed down the past few days came rushing back.

“Me too,” you breathed. JJ’s arms wrapped around your stomach and he buried his head into your neck. You stayed like this for what felt like hours, thinking that if you held on long enough the two of you wouldn’t fall apart.

You heard your door open slightly and you quickly turned your head to see your mom stood there, tears brimming her eyes. You can visibly see her shoulders relax as she lets out a sigh. Your door closes softly as if not to disturb you both. You hear her on the other side of the door, “he’s here. He’s okay.”

“My dad’s gone,” he murmured into your neck.

You can physically feel your heart break for the boy in your arms and the younger version of him, trying to find a space he belongs and mourning the only one he ever found. You want so badly to hold him together, paint all of his scars golden. To remind him how much people love him, how much you love him, but no words come out.

“Guess he finally picked up and left, son of a bitch” His voice wobbled, “I went back, uh, that night to find the necklace John B gave me.”

He pulled away so he could talk directly to you. You cupped his cheeks and swiped the tears with your thumbs before they could fall. He laughed dryly, remembering, “Climbed through my bedroom window and everything. It should���ve taken two minutes tops but it wasn’t on my dresser like I thought it was. I tore my room apart looking for it. And then my dad came home and heard me, uh he was not happy to see me, as you can imagine.”

“Did he hurt you?” you ask, moving farther away from him to make sure he wasn’t bleeding or worse.

He grabs your hands and brings them to his chest, “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Is that where you were? The past few days,”

He nods, “yeah. I woke up the next day and he was gone. I was just going to get my stuff and go, but I don't know. Something wasn’t right.” He pauses to gather his thoughts, “They all really do leave, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” you urge.

“I’m just-”

“No. Do not think like that. None of this is your fault. Your dad is a fucking awful person for not loving you like you need to be loved. Like you deserve to be loved. And John B-” your voice cracks, “John B would never leave us if he didn’t have to and, and you have me. I couldn’t ever leave you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself

He kisses your knuckles, “I know, I know. He just has so much power over the way I think.”

“But you know. You know you are nothing like him.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes.

“These past few days, J. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

“Never.” He pushes his lips to yours, urgent and longing. You move your hands to his head, bringing him closer, trying to pour yourself into him.

[calltomuster]

Star Wars Fic Recs Part the Fourth

[first fic rec list] [second fic rec list] [third fic rec list]

Been a few weeks since I've done one of these and I've read/reread some great fics recently so let me share them with you now!

And I Fear Nothing by @maiseey (Obi-Wan/Cody, WIP, 11/? chapters, 43.4k words) Picture this: I am sitting in the parking lot of my local grocery store, having just bought a load of perishables. I get the email that And I Fear Nothing has just been updated. What do I do: run home to preserve the food I just paid for, or sit in my car and read the new chapter right away? The answer is obvious, of course! That is exactly the situation I found myself in last week when chapter 11 dropped and I did in fact choose to read it in spite of my groceries, that's how much I love this fic. In this fic, Obi-Wan and Cody are raising Luke and Leia together on Tatooine, and they've got so much trauma, and new + old wounds, and love for each other and the children they're raising that it both warms your heart and tears it apart. But that's not all, this fic expands beyond just the small home in the middle of the Jundland Wastes and explores Ahsoka and Rex and their journey to de-chip as many clones as possible. I love this fic because it doesn't shy away from hard conversations, but it does it in a way that makes you want to cry and give everyone involved a hug. Plus, there are some fantastic minor clone characters that you will 100% want to die for by the time you finish reading. Cannot recommend this fic enough.

Obligate by @communistkenobi (gen, one-shot, 23.9k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin & Ahsoka) Just when you thought the Deception arc didn't have enough pain, this AU sees Anakin fake his death instead of Obi-Wan! My heart is physically ripped out of my chest just thinking about this fic, so imagine what it'd do to you actually reading it. Anything @communistkenobi writes is so well-done and I've gone through his works list on AO3 multiple times, but somehow I missed this when it was first posted and it was like a wonderfully delightful surprise when I ran into it the other day. So, so good. Highly recommend!

Moirai by damonkey (gen, WIP, 4/? chapters, 9.2k words, Obi-Wan & Qui-Gon) All I can really say about this fic without giving anything away is that it's a Phantom Menace AU and it's so intriguing. The author is very deliberate in having a vague summary and only tagging as the story progresses, so I truly have no idea what's ahead of me but it's so -- as I said -- intriguing that I'm happy to strap into the ride. Ahhhh I'm skimming through the fic and there are so many things I want to mention but I don't want to give anything away!

Almost Home by @frunbuns (gen, one-shot, 5.2k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) You know, every time I recc a Modern AU I'm like "I don't usually like Modern AUs but..." and then proceed to gush over the fic. I went and checked and I've recced a Modern AU on almost every fic rec list I've made! Maybe I do like Modern AUs?? Or maybe the fics are just that good -- and this fic is definitely that good. In this fic, the first of a planned series of fics set in a modern Star Wars universe, Obi-Wan is reeling from the loss of his adoptive father Qui-Gon and has to care for a young Anakin. Ooooooof. Definitely hits you right in the feels, this one. Love the non-chronological storytelling too!

Naked and Not Paid by biscuitlevitation (Obi-Wan/212th Attack Battalion, WIP, 6/? chapters, 14.9k words) This fic is essentially ~15k words of the clones thirsting over Obi-Wan and it is the funniest thing I have read all year. I'm not kidding, I just read the last chapter which features space-church-lady!Anakin and I laughed so hard I cried. I'm cracking up just thinking about it. I promise you will have a good time reading this fic. And if the tag "Obi-Wan Kenobi/212th Attack Battalion" puts you off, let me just say there's no sex in this at all, it's just thirst. And it's hilarious.

Full Disclosure by @trixree (Obi-Wan/Cody, WIP, 2/3 chapters, 7.4k words) ROTS AU in which the Force bonds Obi-Wan has formed with a few members of the 212th save them from the chip and Order 66, but it doesn't stop the devastation from happening on a mass scale and they all have to try and deal with Mustafar and Luke and Leia. This fic manages to be both extremely soft and extremely gut-wrenching at the same time, and I wish I could leave more kudos. Full disclosure (get it, little pun there for ya), I will be dying until the final chapter comes out. Time to go listen to Olivia Rodrigo and reread this fic and just live in my feels.

Thirteen Days by @ewanmcgregorismyhomeboy12 (gen, one-shot, 4.1k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) Post-Zygerria arc, Anakin dresses an unconscious Obi-Wan's injuries and struggles. Ahhhh this fic is one of my favorite Zygerria arc fics, and given that that's my favorite arc, that's saying a lot! Obi-Wan doesn't say a word in this fic, but his presence is very much there, if you know what I mean. And the descriptions of injuries here are pretty graphic at times, but it's so good that you'll want to keep reading even if you have to do it through the fingers covering your eyes.

brother, let me be your shelter by @kenobilovebot (gen, one-shot, 1.6k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) This fic packs so much tenderness in a short amount of words. It covers an AU in which Obi-Wan's issues from Zigoola never really resolve, and Anakin finds out when -- well, you'll just have to read for yourself. I love Zigoola because it is such an excellent whumpfest for poor Obi-Wan and this fic is great for that, but also highlights Anakin and Obi-Wan's relationship.

A Padawan At War (Again) series by @itstimeforstarwars (gen, 3 parts, 100k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) In this series, Obi-Wan and Anakin are transported from The Phantom Menace into the Clone Wars and have to deal with all that comes with it: fighting wars, discovering a Padawan you never knew you had, dueling your grandmaster who apparently is a Sith Lord now(?!) and all the rest. This series is a great ride, and I look forward to every update. Note: the first fic in this series is a one-shot that was expanded upon, and it drops you in media res. The second fic is a prequel that shows how they got to that point, and the third fic is the sequel that shows what comes after.

The Desert Storm series by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning (complete, 24 parts, 1.144 million words) There has never been a better time to start reading this series. If you read Star Wars fics on AO3, then you've definitely seen the Desert Storm series before, but maybe you were daunted by the high word count, or felt like it would be too much effort to go all the way to the beginning of a series but couldn't just jump in halfway. Let me tell you, it's 100% worth it, and now is the perfect time to read this series if you haven't already. This series is complete, but it turns out it's all just Act 1 of the larger story, which will continue in the Rise and Fall series. @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning is taking a break right now before starting the next series, so you have ample time to get caught up, and YOU REALLY SHOULD. Let me tell you, this series had me on the edge of my seat more than any other piece of media I can remember. With the most recent chapters, where everything that has been building for a million words came to a head, I would get so worked up after each chapter that beforehand I would have to queue up calming things to watch afterwards, and it still wouldn't be enough and I'd be too full of feelings to get anything done the rest of the day. Seriously, this series is amazing. And if you HAVE read it before but haven't reread, now is the perfect time for that as well. I've reread this series multiple times and it's so rewarding because the author sprinkled in so many hints as to what will come that you only understand the second (or third) time around. I know I've written a lot for this rec but this is a long series and it deserves it. Go read! Now!

If you like any of these fics, please consider reblogging so they can get more exposure! And if you noticed I missed someone’s Tumblr account, or linked the wrong one, please let me know!

[golden-pickaxe]

Coffee (Part 5)

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Modern AU, Office AU

Wordcount: 3619

Warnings: reader drinks wine casually

[Coffee - All Parts Here]

A/N: Here is part 5!

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius​ @punkrocknpearls @mootiemoose​ @istorkyou @dini73​ @heavenly1927​ @hashimily​ @peakywitch​

Summary: You are a graduate student at the University of Oslo, and have applied for a job as a personal assistant at the Lothbrok Corporation, without really knowing much of the position advertised. When it turns out you are going to work for the (in)famous Ivar Lothbrok, your whole life is turned up-side-down.

With Ivar just wearing a t-shirt, instead of his usual well-cut suits, you could very clearly see the strong muscles in his arms, as you watched him pushing his wheelchair out of the pedestrian zone, towards the street. You had to swallow at the sight, hating yourself for the effect this man had on you.

 You walked along side him, finally realising what you had done. Just like a year ago, when the coin had dropped that you had really applied at the Lothbrok Corporation, it now dropped that you had just accepted his invitation to come to his home and let him cook for you. Him, one of the most influential businessmen of Norway. With his own fucking Wikipedia site.

Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest at the thought, and you bit your lower lip, not quite knowing what this whole thing would mean now. And if it would change anything between you. You hoped not, but in the same way, you did hope.

 Getting your private life mixed up with your job probably was not a good idea. On the other hand, this whole situation kind of freaked you out, but in a good way. It was exciting.

 You and Ivar had reached the street, next to the national gallery, where a few minutes later the taxi arrived. Personally, you would never get a taxi in Oslo, as it was just insanely expensive, but with a lot of public transport, such as the tram you had taken to get here, not entirely being accessible to someone in a wheelchair, you could understand why Ivar had called it.

 Ivar maneuverered himself into one of the back seats, while the driver put his chair into the trunk of the car. You felt Ivar’s blue eyes watching you, as you rounded the vehicle to get into at the other side.

Even though he always successfully overplayed it, you saw that he was a bit self-conscious about his legs, often cursing them underneath his breath when they once again got into his way. He could move them a little bit, and also seemed to have some feeling in them, was even able to stand up for a few moments, if he could support himself with his arms. But in general, they did not really seem to be working.

In the office, Ivar hated to use his wheelchair, often just dragging himself from his desk to his sofa, his immense upper body strength enabling him to pull himself up with not much of an issue.

 Now, sitting next to you in the taxi on the way to his apartment, he readjusted his legs a bit with tight lips, appearing a bit nervous once more. You still could not quite wrap your head around what was happening right now, it all felt a bit like a dream to you. Just so, you managed to resist the urge to pinch yourself.

 Your boss, your grumpy boss, the infamous Ivar Lothbrok had just casually invited you to go out for coffee with him, had questioned you about almost every aspect of your life, paid for your drink, and now took you to his home to cook for you. It almost sounded like a very bad rom-com, like a romance story some bored, lonely woman would think up. Not that you expected it to end that way, of course. Even if you honestly wished it would.

 Until now, even if you sometimes chatted on business trips, your relationship had been purely professional, and you had only been over to his flat once, when you had brought him a set of suits to his home, when there had been issues with his dry cleaner. It had not really surprised you, finding out that he also lived in Majorstuen, actually not very far from you, although it had been a stress factor for you. Of course, he did not live in one of the old buildings, like you did, with paper thin walls, no elevator and wonky doors, no. He lived on the top floor of one of those new, fancy apartment buildings, costing a few ten-million krona, overlooking Frognerparken.

 When you had brought the suits up to his apartment, you had also met a famous Norwegian actor in the lift, so it was clear what kind of people occupied the other flats of the building. You had never been inside his home, had only delivered his suits to his door, but even the entrance and the lift had been very fancy and expensive looking. Admittedly, you had taken a stupid selfie in the mirror of the lift and posted it to Instagram.

 As Aker Brygge was, as stated, not far from Majorstuen, the drive was quite short, and the few minutes of silence were only broken by far too relaxing music coming out of the car radio. The taxi stopped in front of the apartment building Ivar lived in, and he paid the driver, while you got out, retrieving Ivar’s wheelchair from the trunk. You set it up and positioned it next to the car, for him to climb into.

 Ivar clenched his jaw a bit, obviously annoyed at something, even though you were not quite sure what exactly it was that he was annoyed by now, only hoping that it was not you. Well, at least you would have not far home now.

Ivar climbed out of the car, moving himself over to sit in his chair, before unlocking the breaks and rolling towards the door of the building, while the taxi behind you departed.

 Just as you remembered, the entry hall of the apartment complex was very posh, and you were reminded that this was a completely different world from yours. A different world from your shitty apartment, where you could hear almost every conversation your neighbours were having, and where you had push your full body against the bathroom door to get it to close properly.

 Following Ivar to the lift, the two of you got in, and Ivar pressed the button of the top floor. As soon as the doors had closed, Ivar’s eyes were on you, mustering you intently. His gaze was a tad intimidating, you had to admit, once again looking like a predator looking at his prey. Still, you managed to look back with a smile.

 “Are there any things you don’t eat, before I work my magic?” he asked, a smirk on his handsome face. You had to laugh at his choice of words, but told him about any dietary restrictions or things you didn’t like, and Ivar nodded.

 “Alright. I think I know what to make, then.” He leaned back in his chair a bit, biting how lower lip, a move that made your knees feel very weak.

 “Thank you.” It came out of your mouth, earning a very surprised expression from Ivar.

 “What for?” he asked honestly a bit confused, tilting his head at you.

 “For the coffee. And for inviting me over, and for cooking.” You studied his face, hoping to find something there, something that would give up his intentions, something revealing why he was doing this. You just needed to know, needed to know if you could get your hopes up or not. Was this really just a social call because you had been working for him for a year now, or was it something else?

 “Thank me after you’ve tasted my glorious food! Then I will gladly accept your thanks.” Ivar winked, and the elevator doors opened. Ivar left the lift, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he stopped at his front door.

 His flat was the only flat up here, and you guessed it had to be gigantic, covering the whole top floor. You were sure, his flat probably also had a roof terrace.

 You had to admit, this was another thing you found kind of intimidating about this man. The sheer amount of wealth he had, the wealth his family had. While you lived in a flat share with an old kitchen and horrible, tiny bathroom, with just a wet room and not even a proper shower, he lived in this extremely modern, borderline futuristic building, overlooking Oslo.

 Ivar opened the door, and pushed himself into the flat, with you following close behind, walking past him before he closed the door again behind you.

 Obviously you had imagined this place to be huge and expensive, but what you were seeing in front of your eyes was just.. something else.

It was less of a normal flat, and more of a large loft, most of the rooms merged into one big space. There was, similar to his office, a gigantic glass front overlooking the famous park, and West Oslo. The sun was still in the sky, the sunset not being for another one and a half hours or so.

 In the centre of the room was a big, beautiful white sofa, the kind where one could just stretch out like a starfish and not fall down. In front of it was a coffee table made out of driftwood and glass, the dark wood in stark contrast with the sofa. On the right of it were large, metal, urban looking bookshelves, filled with many thick books, some leather bound and old looking, dividing the living area from the ‘bedroom’, and there were a few doors opposite of the windows, that seemed to lead into extra rooms, probably the bathroom and other rooms.

 Behind the bookshelf you could see a large bed at the wall, so large in fact that you were sure that it could comfortably fit three to four fully grown people. It was covered and surrounded in white and grey furs, sheep and reindeer as far as you could tell from the distance. Furs also covered parts of the marble floor of the flat.

 There were many more furs on and in front of the sofa, and in general it seemed that grey, white and black, together with different shades of brown were the only colours in the whole apartment, making it look very sophisticated.

 On the left-hand side was a giant, very modern kitchen, seemingly equipped with everything a cook could wish for, with a large kitchen isle and a big table in front of it, a rustic looking piece of furniture, made of wood and carved with beautiful knot patterns, probably hand made by a very skilled Scandinavian carpenter knowing a lot about medieval woodcarving.

 The kitchen itself, you noticed, was lower than what you were used to, and while it confused you for a moment, you quickly realised that it was built so that Ivar could easily reach everything from his wheelchair, without having to get any help.

 “Welcome to my humble home.” You heard Ivar’s voice behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You swallowed and turned to him, looking at him as he watched you with a knowing smile on his lips.

 You could not hold back a laugh.

“Humble?” you simply asked, slipping out of your shoes and walking further into the big room, looking around.

 The whole flat was modern and elegant, yet had such a rustic and clearly Scandinavian aesthetic, it was truly impressive. Whoever was the interior designer, was truly a genius, and showed an amazing appreciation for medieval Scandinavian design. Similar works you had only seen in the Folksmuseet in Bygdøy.

 The walls that were not made out of glass were covered in picture frames, displaying either old Viking artwork or photographs of Norway and Iceland, of runestones and old temples. Somehow, it fitted in perfectly with the rest of the decoration.

 There was a door in the glass front of the flat, leading out, just as you had assumed, onto a large roof top terrace, furnished with even more rustic, wooden, and probably handmade tables and chairs, and, as cliché as it sounded, a beautiful hot tub. It was built into a frame, reminding you of a Viking ship, with a set of carved stairs leading up to it, probably so that Ivar had an easier time to get in and out of it, without requiring any help.

 “Alright, I admit, not so humble.” Ivar chuckled. “It was a present from my father when I started to officially work in the company. He had his friend Floki and his wife Helga design and build this whole thing.”

 That made you turn around to him once more. You knew these names.

“The Floki and Helga?” you swallowed.

 Floki and Helga were very, very famous, highly awarded architects and designers, often hired to design important landmarks and museums. Houses planned by them costing up to a hundred million kronas. They were famous for being able to combine the traditional aesthetics of their ancestors with the modern designs of this century, creating masterpieces that were rewarded all over the world. Now, looking around Ivar’s loft once more, it seemed obvious that this was their handy work.

 “Yes, The Floki and Helga.” Ivar chuckled. “The two of them almost raised me when I was a kid. With my parents busy all the time and me being bound to.. this.” He gestured at is chair. “Floki made all the wooden furniture himself. I am very lucky.”

 “Indeed you are.” You shook your head, unable to believe what you had just heard.

 Obviously, he had been raised by the two of them. Obviously, they had made his home for him, being like family to him, and being friends of his father, the most powerful businessman in Norway, and probably even all of Europe.

By now, you wouldn’t even question, if Ivar casually told you that he was descended from Odin.

 Ivar just shrugged at your words, although the expression on his face was a mixture of amused and pride. He bent down to slip out of his shoes, before moving his wheelchair over to a spot next to the door, where another wheelchair was waiting for him, this one looking a bit different, similar to the ones used by disabled athletes. Easier to navigate and probably a bit more comfortable. Ivar heaved himself up from his chair, navigating himself into the other one, a sigh leaving his lips.

 “I don’t fancy the dirt from the streets in my home.” He explained at your confused face, before he pushed himself towards you.

Oh yes, that made sense. Just as both of you had taken off your shoes, it would only be logical for him to also ‘change wheels’.

 A faint smile was on his lips, as he looked up and into your face, his expression soft and open, something you were not quite used to from him. His body language was relaxed too, his arms simply resting in his lap, as his head was once again tilted slightly.

He was truly a beautiful man, you had to admit. It was difficult to ignore, and sometimes you caught yourself staring in meetings, hoping that no one had noticed how your eyes had been practically glued to your boss. Solveig had made fun of you even more, when you had told her about it.

 “I think I’m going to start to cook now, before we starve to death. So, sit down, get comfortable.” He winked at you, before moving his chair towards the kitchen, in the process letting the wheelchair roll a bit, while he pulled his long hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. “Or would you like to help?” he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, looking at you from underneath his long eyelashes. You had to swallow.

 “Well, I am still your personal assistant. So, I will assist you.” You smiled, following him into the kitchen. You hoped that reminding yourself that you were still his employee would calm your nerves.

 “I had hoped you’d say that, dove.” There it was again, that nickname. Your nerves were certainly not calm now.

 Ivar started to pull out pans and a cutting board, gesturing at the fridge for you to take out certain ingredients and washing them in the sink.

 You were not entirely sure what he was going to make, but you were positively surprised that his fridge and his whole pantry was stocked very well. You had to admit, you had taken him for one of those bachelors who had never touched their kitchen in their lives, and with all the money they had always ate out.

 But, as Ivar casually explained while you were preparing food, he enjoyed cooking for himself, and did so almost every evening.

While you were washing some vegetables, and he was skilfully cutting up an onion, he casually told you about the cooking schools he had visited when he was younger, and about the occasional dinner parties he threw for his close friends and family, where he cooked up five course meals for them all by himself. He moved around his kitchen as if he knew every millimetre of it, knowing the layout like the back of his hand.

 You enjoyed this far too much. You rarely saw Ivar this casual, only on business trips when he was not in the mood to talk about work anymore. And though you did not like to admit it, you were keen to know more about his personal life, to know more about the man behind the name Lothbrok.

 It was nice to see him here, in his home. He seemed so at ease, so open, the usual anger and annoyance he often seemed to carry around with himself in day-to-day life completely absent in this moment. This was his space, where he did not have to worry, to think about what upset him.

 This flat truly seemed to be his place, and his place alone. His kingdom far from the influence of other people. Here he was himself, independent of everyone else, everything built in a way that he did not need help from other people.

 Whatever else would come of tonight, you were just happy that you could witness this. You would see Ivar differently now, you knew. And would probably fall even more for him.

 You noticed it getting a bit darker out, and a quick look at your phone told you that it was already half past nine PM. It had not seemed that long, getting to Ivar’s home and starting to cook, as you had not even finished the preparation for cooking yet, but frankly, you didn’t even mind. The setting sun tinted the whole apartment in a magical, golden light, making it look even more beautiful and magical. Ivar’s face turned away from his work for a moment, his blue eyes wandering over the horizon, where the sky was slowly tinted in orange, pink and purple. A faint smile appeared on his face, before he returned his attention to the food.

 Absently minded you put your phone on the kitchen isle, before you grabbed a jar of mixed spices, which Ivar had instructed you to get for him while he was still cutting up vegetables. You read the label, not surprised that he had not purchased them in Norway, but in Spain, turning around, eyes still on the jar. Thus, you only noticed too late that Ivar was right behind you, his chair almost inaudible on the marble floor.

 With a slightly embarrassing yelp escaping your throat, you lost balance, tripping over Ivar’s wheelchair, falling over and landing straight in his lap. His strong arms were suddenly around you to keep you from completely falling to the floor, and your face probably had taken on a crimson shade.

 “Careful there, dove. I’m usually not that hard to miss.” He smirked, to your surprise not even remotely angry with you.

 You had once, in your third month at the Lothbrok Corporation, seen a small clerk run into him in the office, who had been a bit late and had not really paid attention. After Ivar had yelled at him for good twenty minutes, he had never been heard of again.

 “Gods, I’m so sorry, I..” but you stopped, swallowing, not knowing what to say. You tried to get up, the jar of spices still in your hand, but Ivar’s strong grip around you firmly held you in place.

 The man tilted his head, eye flickering to the glass container you were holding. He let go of you with one of his arms, while the other one was still around you, taking the jar from your hands and placing it on the counter next to him. His blue eyes mustered you once more. Your heart was pounding. In the light of the setting sun he looked even more handsome than he had already.

 “I have told you, that you look good today, right?” he asked, his voice low. His hand had returned to hold you again, and you noticed his fingers carefully caressing your back, which sent a shiver up your spine.

 Your mind was racing, as was your heart.

You could not but stare into his piercing blue eyes, not sure what to say, how to respond to him right now, or if you should say anything at all. You were unable to think even one coherent thought, as you felt his strong arms around you, his firm body below you, and his hot breath against you skin.. wait. When had he gotten this close to you?

 Before you could really comprehend what was happening, you suddenly felt Ivar’s lips against yours, not firm, but soft, almost shily moving against yours. In that moment, it was as if your mind just gave up, and turned itself off.

[thedaredevilsgirl]

Chapter Three - Like a Lollipop

Warnings: Tom being a big smug, smutty (oral-man receiving- and dirty talk).

Word count: 2109

N/A: Sorry for the delay in posting. It was my birthday on Monday and I kind of got inspired by that for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

Sorry for the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.

Tom's arms were around your body when you wake up early in the morning. He would no longer leave when he was done and go to your room, even when he was doing nothing, he would go to your room in the middle of the night lying on his side and you would sleep together, Tom liked the feeling of having you in his arms during the night, but he was very careful about leaving early in the morning before your brother saw you there.

"Good morning," you say in a husky voice from having just woken up.

"Good morning," he says smiling "And happy birthday."

"You remember, that's nice" you smile.

"Of course I remember" he caresses your face "it's not every day my girl turns 19".

You feel your heart beat faster in your chest when he calls you "my girl". You were trying your best not to let your feelings for Tom show, you promised yourself that you would keep your feelings hidden for your own good, but it was hard, especially when Tom acted like you two were in a relationship.

"Actually," he says smiling as he gets up from his bed "I have a present for you."

"Really Tom? You didn't need it."

The bedroom door suddenly opens and a smiling Harrison appears.

"He shouts happily, but the smile disappears from his face when he sees Tom standing in the middle of his room shirtless and wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. He asks suspiciously.

He mentally thanks him for being well dressed.

"I came to wish Y/N a happy birthday" he lies quickly.

"Couldn't you wait until she comes down for coffee?" Harrison continues with his questioning.

"I was going to" Tom speaks laughing "but I was already passing by, so I decided to say so".

You watch as Harrison gives Tom a strange look.

"Sure" In the end Harrison seems to believe what he has been told "Makes sense, come down soon, coffee is ready" he starts to leave but quickly returns "And happy birthday again" you smile and he finally leaves the room.

"Oh my God, I thought he was going to find out about us" you sigh in relief.

"Not this time darling" he smiles before leaving a kiss on your lips "I'll have to leave the present for later, see you downstairs" he leaves you alone in your room.

You take your shower and get ready for another day before heading down to the kitchen.

All the frat boys were downstairs and made a point of hugging you and wishing you a happy birthday, you thanked them all before sitting down to eat.

"We were planning to have a party..." Harrison starts to speak and you interrupt him.

"No, please, you know I'm not very comfortable at parties.

"...But since you have something against parties, we decided to just have a dinner party to celebrate, me, you, the boys and Megan, what do you think?" Her brother asks.

"Sounds good to me" you agree.

"Great" he says smiling "You will love it, we will cook for you".

"Please don't set the house on fire trying to cook".

"Don't worry, I will keep something bad from happening" Tom says smiling.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

"I hope you are excited for later" Megan speaks smiling.

"I think you're more excited than I am" you laugh "I'm afraid they're going to burn the whole house down or something".

"Honestly Y/N, you worry too much" You say.

"I'm the worried friend and you're the one who acts without thinking, remember?"

"Exactly, and I have a lot of fun being that way, which is the way you should act, you're 19 you have to enjoy your life" She speaks excitedly.

"Okay, and what should I do to act like that?" He asks.

"She points with her head in a direction and you look at the place she pointed to and see Tom surrounded by his friends.

There was a girl standing next to him, holding his arm and tossing her hair in a conquering way, but Tom didn't seem to pay any attention to her, in fact he was looking at you from across campus and gives you a little wink as soon as he notices your gaze on him.

"Look there, you know the two of them have slept together before and she probably wants a repeat of that."

"It wouldn't be a problem for me" You lie "You and I have nothing, I'm not going to compete with another woman just to get a boy's attention".

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about female competition, you know I hate it when they pit one woman against another, but I'm talking about you admitting how you feel, I'm talking about you telling him the truth, that you like him, before it's too late and you lose him.

"Do you think I should do that? What if he doesn't want me like that?"

"Then he's the one who will be losing out" She is sincere "I have class now, so I'll meet you at your place later".

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

When you enter the house you go straight to your room to get ready for dinner, the boys were in the kitchen and the smell of food was already spreading through the room.

Quickly go up the stairs and enter your room, closing the door afterwards.You quickly get ready, wearing the new blue dress Harrison had given you.

"Hi," Tom's voice says behind you, startling you.He entered the room quietly and locked the door.

"Oh my god" you place your hand on your chest breathing heavily trying to recover from the fright "What are you doing in here?"

"Sorry honey, I didn't mean to startle you" He smiles "I said I would deliver your present later, I came to do that" he shows you the small blue box he was holding and hands it over.

"Thank you" you smile at him and open the box, inside was a gold choker with a small butterfly pendant "God, Tom, that's beautiful".

"You like it?"

"Of course I like it, this is wonderful, you shouldn't spend money on me."

He rolls his eyes and takes the box from her hand, removing the necklace from inside it.

"Don't be silly" He says as you stand in front of the mirror with your back to your body, he moves your hair out of the way and places the choker on you leaving a small kiss on your neck "I don't mind spending money on you".

"Tom" You say looking at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror "Are you getting any other girls?" You ask nervously.

"What?" He looks up not understanding why you are asking this question out of the blue "No, I'm not fucking anyone, why are you asking me that?"

"Nothing...I just saw you with a girl today, you seemed close" you say pulling away from him a little.

"Y/N, are you jealous?" He asks smugly.

"Of course not" You roll your eyes, trying to pretend you didn't feel anything, but it was true, you kind of were jealous.

"I think you are" He says moving closer to your body "What? You don't like to imagine me touching another girl" His hands grip your hips pulling you even closer, he tilts his head to reach your neck and leave kisses all over your skin "No need to be jealous honey, I'm all yours, you're the only one for me".

You look him in the eyes, despite his cocky tone he was being sincere, you see that, you break the rest of the distance by pulling him by the shirt and making your lips glue to his in a thirsty kiss. He couldn't put his feelings into words yet, but he hoped that the kiss would say everything his heart felt.

He grabs you even tighter and deepens the kiss, letting his hand go up to your head and lightly pull your hair, making you moan between kisses, he bites your lower lip and you feel a shiver run down your entire body.

"Tell me what you want" he asks, his husky voice making you shiver once again. Your hands move down to your pants, feeling the hard member through your jeans.

"I want you...in my mouth," she says a little nervously. You had been thinking about this for a few days, Tom always helped you come, touched or fucked you until you came, but you denied all his help, he wanted to give you pleasure but expected nothing in return. But you wanted to reward him.

"Y/N, it's your birthday, I should do something for you" He speaks holding your hand.

"Exactly, it's my birthday and I want to suck you off, please" You look at him with a puppy dog face and a cute peck on your lips, a cute and innocent expression that completely contradicted what you had said a few seconds ago.

"Damn" he feels himself getting even harder in his pants. He was trying to go easy on you, but seeing you like that, begging to have his cock in your mouth was irresistible, and he wouldn't lie, he had dreamed of this moment several times.

You kneel in front of him, your fingers working quickly to open his pants.

"Are you sure you want to do this angel? I don't want to force you to swim sincerely I can wait" He speaks in a careful tone.

"Yes I'm sure I want to" you say confidently, pulling your pants down to your ankles "But I'm going to need you to help me".

"Ok angel, I'll help you" His hand slowly caresses your face, his thumb running across your lower lip, your mouth opens at the touch and he takes the opportunity to put it in your mouth, you suck your thumb slowly passing your tongue gently before he takes it out again.

He slowly pulls down his underwear exposing his member, you bite your lip getting a little nervous.

First" he begins to speak "You can start by spreading pre-cum over my tip, with your thumb." You follow his command, putting your hand around his cock and spreading pre-cum over the head of his cock, he sighs excitedly. It had been so long since a girl had touched him like this.

"Yes, darling, just like that" he says as you begin to move your hand from top to bottom on his member "Let's start off slow and easy, just a few licks from the shaft to my tip" you obey and he sighs as he feels your tongue touch his member "Now, do that again and put your mouth around my tip".

You run your tongue again over the entire length of his cock, before running it over the head and wrapping your mouth around it. Your fingers curl into his hair. You slowly begin to move further down, slowly getting used to his length in your mouth, the head moving up and down and your tongue dancing softly around his cock.

"Holy shit" He sighs, you look at him impressed, nothing was more beautiful than to see him moaning for you, his head thrown back, his lips open in ecstasy. He looks at you, his lips curling into your length and his innocent eyes staring back at you "You look so beautiful like that, what do you think others would say if they saw you like that in? The sweet innocent Y/N pleasuring me, being a good girl for me" you moan against his member, the vibrations making you moan even louder.

Being called a good girl awakened something in you, the word made your clit throb and your panties wet even more.

"Do you like that, being called a good girl?" He asks smugly "because you are being a good girl for me."

You speed up the movements, taking all you could with your mouth and rolling your hand in the rest, he helps you with the movements, without too much force, so as not to hurt you.

"Fuck, angel, I'm going to cum" different from what you thought you don't pull away from him, you continue the movements with more force making him quickly reach the apex.

You pull away from his body, with your cum still in his mouth, he groans at that sight, before you swallow it all quickly. He helps you up off the floor before kissing you, feeling the salty taste of your orgasm on his lips.

"You were so good, you learn so fast angel" he kisses her neck making her sigh "now" she sits down on her desk "I'll make it up to you" she says kneeling in front of him ready to make him cum too.

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