#like!!! give it a goddamn Minute and you’ll see ~the point~

[majicmarker]

so i wrote this li’l bit into my book, right—

(The last time he heard [“Crimson and Clover”], it was beneath the harsh fluorescents smack in the middle of the frozen pizza aisle, eleven-ish P.M., and all he was trying to do, for the love of God, was weigh the merits of spending $7.99 on brand name versus $2.99 on the budget stuff, not have an impromptu existential crisis about falling in love. He’s still not sure what he could have possibly done to Tommy James & the Shondells to have been so personally attacked, but clearly it was something.)

—and one of my friends suggested i nix it because she didn’t understand “how it moves the plot forward.”

which, first of all, your lack of sudden personal crises during late-might grocery shopping just goes to show that the emotional beats of this book are gonna go over your head, maybe? not everything is relatable to everyone, but that doesn’t mean those things are without merit.

to each their own!!! i’m just not going to delete it, because—

first of all (part deux), this is my beef with plot-driven stories, is that ppl think every. single, sentence. has to serve some greater purpose. IT DOESN’T. sometimes you’re establishing emotional significance or character development or getting from point a to point b, sometimes you’re just saying things, and that is a perfectly okay thing to do. one paragraph here and there doesn’t drag your story, it enhances your story. when you’re not writing fanfic, you need to Establish Things; the occasional foray into further explanation helps you to do that.

second of all, on a purely personal level, i just gotta say… this story? not plot-driven. not in the least. this is character-driven romcom all the way, i can bounce back and forth between the internal monologue and the action as much as i see fit, bc that’s the mood.

and, funnily enough!!! this snippet actually does serve as character development, as well as a prelude to the romance, in multiple ways. multiple!!!! ways!!!!

and, sure, that’s not going to land with every reader, i guess? but it does bug @ me when ppl miss the point, especially when you just have to exercise some patience to get to the payoff.

[sylusdarling]

Caught Kitten

Sylus x reader

✧ How to deal with naughty kittens who don’t listen

Content: Sylus x fem!reader, vaginal sex, evol useage, switch!reader, riding

A/N: This is my first fic on this blog. I’m so excited to post. I hope you all enjoy!

You weren’t planning to give up. You had to prove to that bastard that you weren’t weak and that you were more than capable to win a simple bet like capturing a brooch. It was your third time sneaking into Sylus’ room within the past few days. Each time you’ve failed to find the brooch and it resulted with a snarky Sylus kicking you out of his room. But not tonight, you were going to find that goddamn crow brooch.

You approached the large red doors that lead into the silver haired man’s bedroom. Standing outside for a moment you inhaled a deep breath preparing for whatever may be on the other side. With a soft push of your palm against the door it opened. Cautiously you poked your head into the room, you were met with silence.

Taking soft, calculated steps you began to step foot into the room. Unfortunately for you, you failed to notice the main obstacle that was present in the room, Sylus himself. He sat on his king size bed with his head down. He sat in his signature crimson robe that unfortunately for you, hugged his body much too well. After taking a closer look you noticed that he was currently cleaning his gun. His large hand roamed over the gun as he cleaned it with a black silk handkerchief.

You prayed that he was focused enough at the task at hand that you would get a few minutes in without being kicked out. Your first stop was his bedside table. Right before you got there Sylus turned around unexpectedly and aimed the newly cleaned gun directly at you.

“Freeze.” He ordered.

You sighed already defeated and stuck your hands in the air. He approached you, gun still pointed at you. “Seems like a little kitty stumbled into somewhere she shouldn’t be once again.”

Your head drooped. “I’ll see myself out.” You turned onto your heel to leave but Sylus unexpectedly grabbed your wrist. “And who said you can leave?” His sharp red eyes starred at you as he awaited an answer.

“Well I just assumed you were going to kick me out again.”

Sylus tsked. “And I guess that means you already forgot what I said if I were to catch you sneaking into here again.” Before you could respond he began to drag you to his bed.

“W-wait!” Sylus threw you onto his bed and you landed with an “oof.”

Sylus climbed on top of you. His sharp red eyes piercing you as you were trapped underneath him. “I told you, if I were to catch you again you’d be punished.”

You scoffed, “As if being trapped here with you isn’t already punishment enough.”

“Oh sweetie, don’t say that. You’ll hurt my feelings.” The silver haired man smirked.

Flashes of black and red swirled around you and suddenly you were bound in place. Sylus used his evol to tie your hands down which left you helpless.

He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger as he stared at you. “Now, what will I do with you?”

You struggled against his evol even though you knew you were trapped. You laughed bitterly. “You hate me enough that this is what you resorted to?”

Sylus’ eyes narrowed dangerously at your statement. “Oh is that what you think?”

“Aren’t I right?” You scoffed.

He hummed, “I’d say it’s quite the opposite.”

He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss. It was forceful, heated even. Like he was trying to convey something.

Once he pulled away you took a deep inhale trying to catch your breath.

“Why don’t you put your claws away, kitten?”

Turning away from Sylus you hmphed at him.

Quirking an eyebrow up, Sylus spoke. “Seems like someone has some attitude today.”

The dual coloured tendrils began to slither up under your shirt. It caused the buttons to pop.

He ran his hand up your bra. “Hm, black lace. A nice choice, It suits you.” He hooked his finger in the middle of your lace bra and pulled down which caused your breasts to spill out.

You yelped in shock. “Sylus!”

The silver haired main took one of your nipples into your mouth without breaking eye contact. His sharp, ruby eyes gazed directly into yours as he sucked which caused a full body shiver. “Maybe your mouth does have another purpose other than being a cocky bastard.”

Pulling off of you with a ‘pop’ he grinned. “Careful, talk like that will only make me harder sweetie.” Taking your hand he pressed it against his robe covered groin. And he indeed wasn’t lying about that. Feeling the hardness in your hand made you clench around nothing. Clouded by arousal, your dislike for Sylus began to fade. Instead you desired him. You needed him.

“Sylus.”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

He snickered, “Seems like someone had a change of heart.”

You struggled against his evol once again. “Please. If you don’t fuck me, I will.”

“Oh really?” He flicked his wrist and suddenly his evol around your wrists dissipated. “Go ahead then.”

You glared at him as you sat up. In a swift movement you crossed the bed and pushed him down. Now he laid under you with your hands at either side of his head. His silver hair laid messily against the comforter as he looked up at you. “Oh, is kitty feeling feisty tonight?”

Your hands fumbled with the knot that held Sylus’ robe together, “You said to go ahead, so I did.”

Even though you didn’t like the man’s personality, you had eyes. He was good looking with his toned body and handsome face. It pissed you off. The fact that you couldn’t deny wanting him any longer also pissed you off. Once the robe was undone your hands glided across his skin, feeling him up. Your heated gaze scanned every inch of skin, every mole and every divot of his abs.

“Like what you see, sweetie?”

“What if I do?” You retorted.

His large hands snaked up around your waist, “Then that means I can admit that I like what I see as well.”

“Sylus, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted as you reached for his cock. His tip was already leaking, clearly affected by you.

“Then don’t.”

Lining his cock up with yourself, you began to sink down on it. He was so large and thick that you were struggling to get it to all fit. “It’s so big.”

“Come on, kitten. You can do it. You’re almost there.” Sylus was grabbing your hips to help you sink down.

Sylus threw his head back in bliss as you clenched around him. “God, you feel divine.” He spoke in what sounded like a growl.

“D-do you think I can move?” You asked.

“Take your time. If you think you’re ready go ahead but don’t push yourself too hard.” He was surprisingly caring.

Once you were comfortable enough you decided to move. Slowly you pushed yourself up almost off of his cock before you sunk back down with a whine. It felt so good. You needed more. You repeated the process slowly picking up speed. Sylus watched you like a hawk, making sure to not miss any of your gorgeous facial expressions.

He was lost in the way your body moved. Mesmerized even. “You’re absolutely perfect, kitten.” His hands roamed your body. Up the sides of your hips, your breasts, your neck. Anywhere he could get his hands on. He needed to feel you.

“I think I’m going to come.” You panted as your legs were getting sore and sweat dripped down your forehead.

“Go ahead, sweetie. You deserve it.” He said as he tweaked your breast. He leaned into your ear and on his deep, husky voice he whispered “Come for me.” And that tipped you over the edge. You saw white, blinding light as you came with a cry on Sylus’ cock.

You could tell Sylus wasn’t far behind. Leaning in, you kissed him. Tangling your hot tongues together as you grinded down on his cock.

“I’m coming, kitten.” He breathed out before he came inside you The white, hot cum filling you up. You pulled away from the kiss and let out a huff of air.

Pulling of of Sylus, you flopped down beside him on the bed absolutely exhausted. The silver haired man leaned over and brushed your messy hair out of your face.

“You did very well, kitten.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled out, exhausted.

He grabbed your hand and placed something inside of it. “I think you deserve this.” Opening your hand you were met with the brooch that you’re been searching for the whole time.

“Does this mean I pass the test?” You giggled.

He hummed, “Yes, I think your…determination is rather admirable.” You felt the weight beside you on the bed leave. Looking up you saw Sylus standing above you. He slotted his arms underneath you and picked you up bridal style.

“How about a shower?”

You snuggled into his warmth with a smile. “Sounds good.”

“Snuggling into my chest, you really are like a kitten.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he said that.

[pondermyorb]

Butting Heads

You slide the key into the lock, feeling your relief at finally being back home. Work was so tedious today, just thinking about it annoyed you. Stupid Tom in his stupid cubicle asking you for help every five seconds as if you didn’t have your own overflowing inbox not to mention a billion other things because apparently you’re the only competent employee in your department.

And then there was Him. He knew exactly what he was doing. Sending you those pictures, those texts, those slutty videos of him. All. Fucking. Day. When you couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it? Squeezing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to alleviate some of the tension building, the dampness in your panties only getting worse with the tiny amount of stimulation.

You didn’t even have the time to go to the bathroom and touch yourself. Yet you still opened every single one of his damn messages. You sat there needy, pussy throbbing, all because of him, all goddamn day. And he was going to pay.

You opened the door, tossing your bags to the side carelessly. Keeping your work clothes on (knowing how he likes them) you start to search through the house. Noticing he isn’t in the living room, you stop by the bathroom, touching up your makeup and adding a deep red lip to the look, before spraying on that perfume that makes his head all fuzzy for you. You continue your search, opening up the bedroom door… And there he is.

Not hiding at all, standing in his tailored suit, your collar in his hands, a glint in his eyes as he looks you up and down. Waiting for you. He thinks you’ve come here to submit. Little does he know~

You smile to yourself, walking up to him, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Wanting your perfume to do it’s j- you stop, halfway to him. Your head is fuzzy, the scent of his cologne, that cologne, flooding your senses. That fucker had the same idea…

You feel your cheeks flush, the slickness between your legs growing as you breathe it in. You still feel a bit of triumph as you see his eyes glaze momentarily, hear his breathing quicken, see the bulge in his suit pants start to grow. You should’ve known this wouldn’t be easy, but at least you’re starting on even footing.

You continue your stride, walking right up to him, eyes never leaving his. You notice as his drift down to your lips, stopping for a second, then continue down to your business attire. A smile forms on your lips, knowing his weakness for them, mentally tallying a point to yourself for making him break eye contact.

As you reach him, you put your arms around his neck, promoting his hands on your hips. Looking away shyly, you try to play coy, to bait him into action. His hand reaches out, lifting your chin so your eyes meet his as he leans in for a kiss. “Down, boy” You say, finger pressed against his lips to stop him. “I still haven’t forgiven you for earlier. To make it up to me, you’ll be my toy tonight”

He laughs, a genuine laugh that makes your heart flutter, but you stand your ground. He leans forward, fingers sliding up the back of your neck and into your hair, gripping it and firmly pulling your head back. Your neck is exposed, letting him trail kisses up it, lightly biting and sucking and licking as he does. You gasp in surprise and arousal, the firm tug on your hair briefly shutting your mind down as your pussy floods even more.

“Doll” he says as his lips press against your ear “you’ve been teased all day. I’ll have you begging to worship me in a matter of minutes.” His hot breath sending a shiver through your body, but you don’t give in.

Your hand snakes up the back of his head, grabbing him in the same way. You feel his god start to slacken as you pull, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I don’t think so, bunny” you whisper in his ear as you wrap his tie firmly around your other hand “I think you’ll be kneeling long before I do. Care to make a bet? First one to kneel has to make the winner cum however they want”

“Deal” hardly leaves his mouth before you yank his face towards yours. Surprised, he lets himself be dragged into a kiss, sticky from the lipstick, deep and sloppy. As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arm around his neck, and use his tie to drag him to the ground. Panting as heavily as you are, he looks up at you with dazed eyes as you break the kiss. He glances down at his kneeling form, cock a tent in his pants, lipstick staining his lips, before looking back up at you. “Oh, so we’re playing dirty? How would you like your last orgasm before I break you, then?” He asks, his eyes blazing with a hunger you know well.

You step towards him, hiking your skirt up as you do. You swing one leg over his shoulder as you reach him, pulling his head in to your dripping cunt. The sight of him kneeling there, clad in his tight suit, face marked by you, eyes growing less focused the closer he gets to tasting you, it drives you even crazier. Moaning as his tongue meets your lips, you start to grind against his face. Using him as nothing more than a toy, you quickly feel the orgasm coming, his expert tongue knowing exactly where to lick to drive you up to and over the edge.

Crying out, you feel yourself squeezing your thighs against his face as you cum all over him. He doesn’t stop, even as you come down from the high, even at the orgasm subsides, even as your cunt starts to grow sensitive, he doesn’t stop. “Y-you did it” you stammer out, trying to catch your breath “y-you can st-stopppfuckkk” You try to get away, try to back up, but his hands are like vice grips, holding you in place as he continues to eat you out like you’re his last meal.

You realize what his plan is, to overstimulate you until you can’t help but give in. You feel the second orgasm building already, moans mixing with your commands for him to stop. But he already fulfilled his part of the deal, he made you cum how you wanted. And now he’s making you cum how he wants~

Three, four, seven, twelve, too many to count, the orgasms keep going, your mind becoming fuzzy, your body giving in to the pleasure even as a small part of you tries to fight back. Your chance comes when he pauses briefly, leaning back for a small break before he continues his onslaught.

He smirks at you, seeing the slight haze in your eyes, the submission beginning to grow. He thinks he’s won. You smoothly grab the back of his head, gripping his hair, pulling it away from your cunt as you slide your foot to the ground. A firm slap to his face causes his grip to slacken, letting you back away.

You grab his tie as you back up, dragging him to his feet as his brain tries to recover from the slap. The twitching tent in his pants tells you exactly what he thought of that slap, and you give his other cheek the same treatment before pushing him onto the bed.

Pulling his pants down, you free his leaky cock from its well-tailored prison, watching it spring up in front of you. He watches you, still slightly dazed as you crawl up the bed. Eyes drifting between eye contact with him, and looking at his cock as you swirl your tongue around it, kissing it and sucking on it and his balls.

All he can do it watch as you take your time teasing him, leaving lipstick marks up and down his shaft, taking the whole thing in your warm mouth, gagging on it before looking up at him with tear filled eyes. A watching bystander may have thought he was in charge, but his paralyzed form showed who really held the power.

You continue to edge him, his cock growing harder than he thought possible, twitching and leaking, until it’s bulging with veins and looking like the slightest breeze would send him into a ruined orgasm. Once satisfied, you begin to crawl further up his body. Pulling open his shirt, you leave a trail of kiss marks up his torso, along his collarbone, all over his neck, and finally covering his face.

Your position your dripping pussy right over his aching cock, wrapping your hands around his neck, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “How long do you think you can last like this? I bet it won’t even take me 2 strokes to milk you” You whisper, before licking and sucking on his neck. You sink swiftly onto his cock, swallowing in one quick motion.

To his credit, he lasted 5 strokes. The fifth time she sunk down, he screamed into your shoulder, holding you tight as he came hard in you, coating your insides with his cum, filling you completely as he clenched down and didn’t let you go.

You thought that was it, letting him hold you as you started to drift off. But just as you closed your eyes you felt yourself being flipped on your back, still wrapped in his arms. You briefly catch a glimpse of his eyes. Mindless. Feral. Before he starts to thrust into you.

You can hardly believe the pleasure as he pounds into you, your cunt sensitive from the constant stimulation throughout the night. Screaming out in a mix of pain and pleasure, you cling to him, nails digging into his back, tearing through his open dress shirt. You can’t even begin to care as the orgasm courses through you, along with the familiar feeling of him filling you with his cum.

You lose track of your orgasms, of his, of everything but the pleasure coursing through your body. You can feel blood staining the back of his shirt, drawn from your nails as he fucked you senseless. The taste of it fills your mouth, from biting down on his shoulder hard enough to break the skin. None of that matters, all that matters is Him.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up he’s still inside you. Passed out, body a comforting weight on top of you, the glow of pleasure still radiating from your body. You let yourself drift back to sleep, feeling happy, content, and so incredibly sore~

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Epilogue

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: it’s finally the day of your graduation.

word count: 2.7k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: okay this is the real last chapter!! this was gonna be a drabble so i wasn't gonna really count it, but this is a more solid ending lol. enjoy<333

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“We have to go! Now!” you yell as you stand by the front door of your apartment. You and your roommate had planned to walk over to campus together for graduation, but, like always, she’s running late. Your feet are already starting to hurt in your blue heels, and your skin has a thin layer of sweat from running around the apartment while getting ready.

Finally, your roommate comes out of the bathroom, giving you a wide smile as she jogs to the door. 

“Okay, jeez. How does Evan put up with you all the time?” she teases once she gets to the door. She grabs her purse hanging by the door and steps out as you swing the door open, and you roll your eyes as she passes. She may have a little bit of a point, but you were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago, and you’ve been waiting by the door for 20. You plan on meeting Evan at the venue; your roommate having wanted to get ready together at your apartment as a last big hang out before you have to move out of the place you’ve called home for the last 4 years. But now, you don’t think you’ll have time to see him before it starts.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m sorry I don’t want to be late to our graduation.” you reply in a teasing tone, trying to keep up with her as she speed walks down the hall to the elevator. How can she walk so fast in her heels? They’re at least 2 inches taller than yours.

By the time you get to the coat check, you can see that most people are already in line, waiting to be led into the auditorium, and it seems that they’re only a few minutes from leading everyone in. You sigh in relief once you have your name card and your gown, then say a quick goodbye to your roommate before you go to your spots.

You spot Evan across the large room, his suit just barely visible through the slit in his gown, and your mouth goes dry. You’ve never seen him in a suit, and you have to admit, he looks extremely good. You don’t make a move towards him, seeing that volunteers are making their way down the lines to make sure everyone is in the right spot. Instead, you busy yourself by pulling out your phone and making sure your makeup is still in place.

While you’re looking at your phone, Evan’s eyes finally land on you, and he lets out a sharp inhale as his eyes trail down your body. You’re wearing a pretty white dress, not unlike any of the other women around you, but he thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He’s used to seeing you in dresses, but this is different. You’re all dressed up, hair and makeup perfect and heels making your legs look a little longer, and he can’t fight the urge to touch you. He weaves his way through the rows of other people, eyes trained on you as he moves, refusing to look away.

You jump when you feel a hand on your hip, only relaxing when you turn and see Evan’s smirk. You let out a sigh, but it’s cut short when he pulls you in for a deep kiss, one hand going to your jaw while the other stays on your hip. You place your hands on his chest, feeling the soft material of his suit under your fingers, which makes you hum softly as you think about the sight of him in it.

“You look so beautiful, princess. Goddamn.” he murmurs against your lips. You smile into the kiss, then push him away slowly, cheeks growing hot as you take a quick glance around the room to make sure no one’s looking.

“I’ve never seen you in a suit before. You look good.” you tell him in a quiet voice, looking up at him through your lashes. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, smirk widening at your words.

“Thank you, baby.” he says with a low hum, then leans down to press his lips to yours once again in a much softer kiss. Your kiss is cut short when you hear someone clearing their throat behind you, and you jump away from Evan and turn to the sound.

“Number?” the man asks, looking between the two of you.

“317.” you say awkwardly just as Evan says “84.” You look down in embarrassment as the man begins to tell Evan that he’s in the wrong line, but Evan waves him off, smiling.

“Yeah, man. I know. I’m going.” he tells him, then turns to you as the man keeps moving down the line. He reaches up and wipes away some of your smudged lip gloss, giving you a wink. You smile back, reaching up and wiping the lip gloss off of his lips as well, laughing softly as he huffs and fake pouts.

“What, you don’t like how I look?” he teases, raising a brow. You shake your head as you laugh softly, pushing him back towards his own line. 

“Get going. They’re bringing us out soon.” you say sternly, fighting back a smile as he pulls you forward with him, his hand grabbing yours. He pulls you against him and kisses your forehead, then pulls back, looking down at you with lovestruck eyes.

“I love you. I can’t wait to see you up there on stage.” he tells you sincerely, and you smile, your heart warming at his words.

“I love you. Now go.” you say, pointing towards his line, which is now being led out the door and towards the auditorium. He gives you one last wink before he jogs back to his line, slotting himself between the two people he was between earlier. You watch him until he rounds the corner, and then you wait until your row is led out.

You stand in the wing of the stage, hands shaking as you hold your name card, waiting to go on stage. Evan has already walked across the stage, and although you felt a little embarrassed, you couldn’t help but cheer along with the rest of his teammates that are also graduating this year. You’re sure Evan is going to cheer for you as well; he’s never been shy, and you know that as much as it will make your heart swell, it’ll make you more nervous with everyone's eyes on you.

You move up in line until it’s your turn to give your card to the person announcing everyone’s names. 

You wait patiently for your name to be called, and once it is, you walk across the stage towards the chancellor. You keep your eyes on the chancellor as you do, knowing that looking into the audience and seeing everyone’s eyes on you will make you more nervous. You can’t help but look over, however, when you hear Evan cheering for you, followed by what sounds like cheering from the rest of the football team from various spots in the audience. Your face heats up as your head turns toward the crowd, immediately finding Evan in the crowd. He’s the only one standing up, and he’s near the front because of his last name, and you can’t help the grin that erupts on your face, as embarrassed as you are. 

You shake the chancellor’s hand, and then leave the stage, trying to slow your racing heart as you’re ushered back to your seat. Your smile refuses to leave your face the rest of the ceremony. You’re not sure why Evan’s friends cheered for you; Evan knows that having eyes on you like that isn’t something you exactly welcome, not that it would stop him from asking his friends to cheer on his girl. And either way, you wouldn’t exactly say you’re friends with them, other than Owen, who always tries to make you more comfortable in situations where you’re surrounded by all their other friends.

“You looked like a deer in headlights up there.” you hear a voice say behind you. You turn with a smile, immediately recognizing the voice. You felt like you’ve waited forever for Evan to find you after the ceremony; the pain from your heels, paired with the loud chatter from the sea of bodies surrounding you, making you feel slightly overwhelmed. You laugh softly before you wrap your arms around his torso, sinking into his arms as soon as he wraps his around your shoulders. You relax into his embrace immediately, the chatter surrounding you suddenly getting quieter as you try to listen to his heartbeat beneath his chest.

“You could’ve warned me.” you murmur into his chest, and the rumble of his laugh makes you smile, just a little.

“You would’ve told me not to. And I wanted you to know how proud I am of you.” he tells you, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on the top of your head. You sigh, knowing he’s definitely right.

“And you just had to show that in front of the entire graduating class?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. He smiles, shrugging as he nods. 

“I’m proud of you, too, you know. I don’t know how you balanced football and classes, I barely had any time between classes and work.” you tell him earnestly. He looks down, shrugging again as his smile widens. You smile when you notice his cheeks go slightly pink, and you pull him down for a kiss, resting your hands on his abdomen.

“Now all we have to do is find an apartment, and jobs, and then we won’t have to stress anymore.” he whispers against your lips. You pull back, tilting your head to the side as you look into his eyes. You’re about to respond when a few of his teammates come barreling towards you two, almost knocking you over as they run into Evan and wrap their arms around his shoulders. Evan catches you before you can stumble too much; your feet hurt so much that it’s even harder to balance in your heels, and then lets you go once you’re standing straight, not wanting to continue jostling you around as his friends shake his shoulders and celebrate with him. 

Once you’ve helped Evan take pictures with all his friends, taken some pictures with Evan, then found your roommate and your parents to take pictures with them, you go to dinner with your parents to celebrate. You bring Evan along with you, as his parents “had something come up,” meaning they couldn’t make it. You seemed more upset about it than Evan when he told you, but you know that he was just trying to brush it off, even if it did bother him. 

The next few days go by in a blur. Graduation happened late this year, meaning that you and Evan have less than a week to pack up your places before your leases end. You take breaks during the day from packing, travelling around LA to look for an apartment for you and Evan, and when you only have two days left to find a place to live, you start to get very anxious. 

You’re standing outside of an apartment building, slightly out of breath from having to jog down the street to make it on time for your viewing appointment. You had seen this apartment a week or so earlier; a beautiful, well-lit loft that you fell in love with, but when you emailed the landlord, he had told you that it was already spoken for. It was a miracle that he emailed you about twenty minutes prior to you getting there, telling you that the deal had fallen through, and it was yours if you could make it in the next thirty minutes.

A grin is plastered to your face the entire way up, and you’re gripping Evan’s hand so tight as you lead him down the hall that you’re sure it hurts. When the landlord opens the door, your smile widens, if even possible. Evan smiles too, clearly loving the place as well. He’s always thought lofts were cool, and he can’t help but imagine living here with you. Waking up to you every morning in his arms.

“It’s perfect.” you tell the landlord once you’ve seen the entire apartment. You look up to Evan, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet as you grip his bicep with one of your hands. He hums in agreement, grinning down at you.“We’ll take it.” Evan informs the landlord, raising his gaze up to the man. It really is perfect, and neither of you can believe it’s actually in your price range. It’s right near the LAFD training academy, where Evan is starting soon, and it’s close enough to lots of workplaces that you’ve applied to.

You’ve finally gotten all your boxes and furniture moved up to your new apartment, and both you and Evan are laying on the floor of your soon-to-be living room, sweaty and tired from all the trips up and down from the moving truck.

“Should we get pizza for dinner?” Evan asks, rolling over onto his side to face you and resting his head on his fist. You smile, rolling over and mirroring the way he’s laying.

“We can order in. Get our mattress set up at least while we’re waiting so we don’t have to do it before bed.” you reply, and he nods. By the time you’re finished moving everything up, it’s almost 8PM, and you can feel your stomach rumbling.

“Alright, I’ll call. The usual?” he asks, and you nod as you stand up. He sits up and grabs his phone from his pocket, finding the number for the closest pizza place. 

Once you’re up the stairs, you stop, taking in the sight in front of you. A mixture of you and Evan’s things waiting to find their place among each other, your lives finally fully intertwined. You can’t wait until your things are actually out of the boxes, but for now, you don’t bother trying to unpack. Instead, you begin to slide boxes out of the way of where you want to place the mattress, Evan’s voice travelling through your new space and up to your ears, making you smile. You feel so at peace. Finally. Even if the apartment looks a mess. 

You can almost imagine yourself a few months from now, finally settling into living with Evan. Him coming home after training, helping you make dinner, and then both of you curling up on the couch to watch something on tv. You’re a little nervous about actually finding a job, as many of the places you’ve applied to haven’t replied to you yet, but you push that away.

After you’ve moved everything out of the way, flopped the mattress down into the place you want it, and set up some pillows and blankets on it, Evan comes up the stairs with the pizza. You both sit on the end of the mattress and dig in, a comforting silence filling the space.

Evan watches you as you eat, and after a few minutes, you laugh softly, raising a brow.

“What?” you ask, heat filling your cheeks. You reach up to your face, thinking that maybe you have something on your face, but you don’t feel anything.

“How did I get so lucky?” he whispers, mostly to himself. You smile, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You didn’t get lucky. You just put up with me long enough for me to like you” you tease him softly, putting your slice of pizza back down in the box. You get up on your knees and move towards him, settling on his lap with your legs on either side of him.

“I did get lucky. I got the perfect apartment and the girl of my dreams. My good luck charm.” he purrs, his hands going to your hips immediately. You laugh softly at his words, shaking your head before you lean down to give him a sweet kiss. 

Yeah, you were going to be okay. As long as you had him.

bonus drabble

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[poeticpascal]

Trouble (Pedro Pascal x Rockstar!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Pedro had never heard of (Y/N) (L/N) before his latest appearance on The Graham Norton Show. By the end, his assistant wishes it had stayed that way, and he wonders how it took him so long to find her.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse (now recovered), allusions to but no specific mention of an overdose.

A/n: I am very nervous to post this! I've never written a fic about an actor like this before, so depending on how this one does lol, you may be able to expect more from me like this. Please let me know what you think, and don't forget my requests are open!

“And he used red this time! We were getting so worried that he wasn’t interested in all 3 primary colours-”

Pedro sighs, glancing towards the door to see if his assistant was coming back yet. No sign.

He turns back to the old lady who’s been talking now for what - 4 hours? 5? It felt like it. She was sweet, and he didn’t want to be rude, but god if he had to spend one more minute hearing about her grandson’s latest finger painting-

“So sorry I took so long! We’ll have to get going Pedro - your next interview is in 10.”

His assistant - Alicia - burst back into the room and Pedro was sure he could feel his eyes well in relief. He takes the lady’s hand, shaking it and giving her a warm smile. “Mrs Alderman, I’d love to hear all about Harvey, but I’ve gotta go. It was lovely to meet you!”

She smiles in understanding and clasps her own hand on top of his. “It was lovely to meet you too, Peter!”

Alicia snorts behind him, and Pedro gives up with a final, defeated smile before heading out of the cafe and back towards his car. He’d only wanted to nip in for a second, to grab coffee and a pastry, but then Alicia got a phone call, and Mrs Alderman started talking to him in the queue, and by the time they left his goddamn coffee had gone cold.

They clamber inside, Alicia pushing a few files onto the backseat as Pedro stares. “I almost died, you know,” he quips, half muffled as he takes a bite of his croissant. He hums at the taste, light and buttery; maybe it had been worth it.

Alicia rolls her eyes, used to his antics by now. “I was on the phone to the BBC. They’ve confirmed who you’ll be on The Graham Norton Show with.”

“They have? Who?” 

He generally felt nervous going on the big chat shows, especially with how in demand he'd been recently. But Graham had been so warm, especially for his first time on the show, that when they asked him to come back he'd accepted without hesitation.

And really, he was quite looking forward to it.

Alicia doesn't seem quite as excited though. She flips open her notepad, littered with delicate but hasty scribbles of various projects and dates, and begins to read out the names.

“Robert Downey Jr, he’s promoting Oppenheimer.”

“I'm gonna meet Iron Man?” Now he was nervous.

“Kate McKinnon. She's in the Barbie movie, I think.”

“Amazing.” He'd always wanted to meet her.

“And…” she sighs. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Who?” No seriously, who?

Alicia snaps her head up to look at him. Surely he didn’t not know who she was? “(Y/N) (L/N)? The singer?”

Pedro just shakes his head, unbothered. “Nah, never heard of her. She any good?”

“No, Pedro, that’s the point.” He cocks an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue as she looks back and forth between him and her notes. “She’s a publicist’s worst nightmare. She’s the lead singer of this band, The Heartbreakers, they’re huge. Like, Taylor Swift-huge. But if Taylor Swift did heavy metal.”

“And why don't we like her?” he asks.

“Because she’s trouble. She’s had big drug problems, she argues with everyone, she goes on stage and pulls all these crazy stunts. She’s always in the news, Pedro.”

He can’t help but think she sounds like fun.

“Can’t be that bad, right? If she’s that famous?”

Alicia shakes her head, “she's famous, but that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. People love you right now, Pedro. I’m just concerned that if you’re seen to be… friendly with her, people will raise their eyebrows. It won’t look good.

He thinks for a second. It really wasn’t in his nature, this whole PR thing. He liked meeting new people, and listening to them, and connecting. Maybe not Mrs Alderman - and now he's thinking about that nightmare again - but, for the most part, yes; Pedro liked people.

And not giving someone a chance because of his public image didn’t feel right.

Alicia sees the cogs turning in his brain, so she flips the pad closed, giving him her full attention now. “I know it’s strange, but I mean it. It’s not a hole you want to get dragged into. Her fandom is huge, the media's obsessed with her, parents hate that their kids listen to her and kids love to piss off their parents by listening to her. I’m going to speak to them about getting you sat on the opposite end of the couch... I just want to make sure you’re not linked with her. Trust me.”

With that, he nods his head. He does trust her - at the end of the day, he didn’t even know who this (Y/N) person was. So what if he didn’t speak to her much on the show?

—------

“WHAT?!”

He had to pull the phone away as Bella’s near-screech pierced his ears. They yell again, something along the lines of “are you serious? Pedro, are you serious?!”

“Yes I’m serious, what’s the big-”

“Oh my god I can’t believe it! You’re going to meet (Y/N) (L/N)! Will you mention her to me? I saw her tweet once that she watched the show and oh my god I need her to follow me on Instagram-”

“Wait, Bella, wait,” Pedro rubs his thumb and forefinger between his brows, not exactly thrilled that what was supposed to be a call to calm his nerves the night before the show was now filled with so much rowdiness. “I don’t even know who she is! You listen to her?”

They gasp, and he just knew they were pulling a dramatic, jaw-dropped face on the other end of the line. “Come on man, I know you’re not the hippest guy around but you have to know who she is!”

He giggles, throwing his hands in the air. “‘Fraid not, Bella. I’ve no clue. I do know i’m not supposed to talk to her though.”

Now there was a real gasp, not the purposefully dramatic kind. “What? Pedro, you can’t not talk to her. You have to. She’s the coolest person, like, ever.”

Pedro scoffs, “what about me?”

“When you get sleeve tattoos and banned from performing at the VMAs, you might get considered dude.”

“She was banned from the VMAs?”

You know that feeling, when someone tells you not to do something, and you don’t want to do anything else?

Yeah, that.

“I’ll send you the link, it was so cool. She said she’ll be allowed back next year anyway 'cos they need her to stay relevant.” He giggles again at that, and yeah, he couldn’t deny his intrigue.

“So that’s why you like her? She's all rebellious and stuff?” Pedro chews on his thumb as he asks, the anxiety of tomorrow not quite forgotten, but listening intently as Bella rants on.

“Nah, I mean she is controversial, but I just think she’s amazing. She acts all tough and rock 'n' roll, but she's really great deep down. I went to see her band once a couple of years ago, and this girl fainted so she stopped the whole show to make sure she got water and was okay. She’s just misunderstood, man.”

“Is it true she’s a drug addict?” He's not sure why he felt the need to ask. Why he cared. Maybe it was just to build a better picture, or maybe because Bella loves her so much, and he cares about their interests. Maybe, he had a sort of… concern, for her. For this enigma.

They knew each other well, and Bella could sense Pedro’s interest. More than anything, they were just excited to tell him about their favourite singer. “She used to be, it was crazy. She’d go on stage high and everything, people really hated her then. But she’s been sober now for, like, a year? She talks about it a lot. This is what I mean dude - everyone remembers all those shitty things but I think she’s so strong.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to Alicia’s warning a few days earlier.

“Do you think it’d be bad? If I talked to her?”

It was Bella taking a moment’s pause, now. “I mean… Alicia’s not wrong. She’s not exactly got the cleanest image a celebrity’s ever had. I guess it’s up to you to decide what matters most.”

It was quite profound really, and Pedro was reminded of just how mature they were for their age.

“The most important thing is that you give her my instagram handle.”

And just like that, the moment’s gone. He laughs, shaking his head and muttering “you’re a dick”, before falling into conversation about other things. He fully intended to look up (Y/N) (L/N) before he fell asleep, but the hours went by quick and soon enough he'd drifted off, phone in hand and tomorrow's nerves dispelled for now.

—------

Maybe this whole Graham Norton thing was a bad idea.

Pedro was tired.

It had been a long flight to London, a long drive from the airport to his hotel. And a long, long wait at the studio before they even thought about getting filming started.

He’d been in hair and makeup for a good while, and according to Alicia, it would still be another two hour’s wait until they got him sat on the big red couch.

Yeah, he was tired.

He steps out, the muddied skies of London painting a grey-cast shadow on his face, the frosty winds hitting his skin. It was nice. Different. Much harsher than the LA sun he was used to.

He looks around; it’s just him there in the car park, leant against the windowsill and letting his eyes drift shut. It’s peaceful, and if it weren’t for the rushing of the motorway that ran just beside him, he’d almost feel alone.

“Mind if I join?”

He jolts awake, startled out of his near-tranquility, facing the woman who’d crept outside through the same doors he did. She was casually dressed, far more so than the BBC staff he’d seen today; she must be a temp, or an intern or something. A heavy black hoodie swallows her frame, and he wished he had a similar one as his ice-cold breath fell into the air. His eyes draw upwards, and he thinks to himself just how pretty she is. (Y/H/C) hair is bundled in her hood, loose strands blowing messily in the wind. She has no makeup on, so he can see greyish bags hung under her eyes, her lips stained pink, a soft blush blooming over her cheeks from the frosty air. There’s a roughness to her, something harsh, and it makes her so utterly alluring.

“Yeah- yes, of course. Of course.” He offers a smile, and she smiles back, and his heart races.

He shuffles to the left, unsure of why he’s making room for her on the windowsill; they’re outside, he’s a stranger. There’s a bench not far from the door, perfectly fit for her to sit on. And yet she follows his movements, and leans against the porcelain outline of the large window, searching for something in her pockets.

“D'you smoke?” She produces a pack of cigarettes, and digs out a lighter from her back jean pocket. Pedro watches as she slips one of them between her lips, covering the end with delicate hands as she lights it, revelling in the taste and taking a long drag. He notices then her long black nails, perfectly painted and delicately holding the cigarette in place, elegant and weapon-like at the same time.

There’s a nonchalance to everything she does, and it’s enticing. She doesn’t look at him when she asks, or when she expels the smoke from her lungs, keeping her eyes set forward and undoubtedly feeling the weight of Pedro’s on her face.

He forgets he’s supposed to answer.

“Er, no, thank you. I’m being good.” He offers her a smile, forced as he tries to remember his own whereabouts, too entranced by the beauty and the charisma that fell from this woman in droves.

The two are silent for a little while, he can’t be too sure how long. He smells the smoke from beside him, sees the wisps drawl from her tongue and into the cool air, and for someone who considered himself rather charming, he couldn’t for the life of him think of something to say.

He doesn’t have to.

“What're you doing out here, then?”

And this time she is looking at him. They’re sat close, and his eyes meet hers with ease, warm and welcoming. He feels a little more comfortable now, like she’s a friend; her warmness makes it hard to feel anything other than at peace.

He smiles, bashful. “I’m working.”

“Working?”

He looks down at his shoes, rubbing them against one another. It was always a strange conversation to have, explaining who he was to people who didn’t know. It felt like showing off a little; more than anything, he didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

“Yeah, I, uh… on the show.”

She giggles, and it sounds so sweet that his tummy heats up. “I’m only kidding. I know who you are. The Last Of Us, right?”

There’s a sincerity to her tone, nothing like this thick, false charm people try to use when they know he’s famous. It didn’t feel like she wanted anything from him in that moment. He nods, looking back up at her and his breath hitches when they immediately lock eyes again. Her lips are turned into a sly smile, cheeky almost, and he can’t help but grin back.

“I liked that show,” she says before taking another long drag.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. Makes this fuckin’ huge press tour worth it.”

She laughs. Not the quiet giggle she gave him before, but a proper laugh, one that makes her eyes brighter and her nose scrunch up. Pedro laughs too, caught up in her, and when their chuckles die down they relax into a comfortable silence for a few moments before he turns to her again and asks, “how about you? Are you on the production team?”

She ponders her answer. It’s the first time - in the 10 minutes since they’d met - that she’d seemed to falter. Like she was unsure. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He didn’t push it. Maybe his fame was a problem. Did she feel overwhelmed? Or judged? He didn’t know - but a twang of sadness settled in his gut, and he wondered what to say next.

She recovers quickly, though. Stands back up a little straighter, puts the butt of her cigarette out against the wall, and faces him once again. “You seem nervous."

Pedro chuckles, nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only when you scuff your shoes within an inch of their life and readjust your glasses every 10 seconds.”

“And here I thought I hid it well.” Cocking an eyebrow, the woman looks at him knowingly and tilts her head, encouraging him to go on.

“I always get nervous before these things... it feels worse this time, though. I just know Robert Downey Jr is gonna think I’m so weird, and then there’s this other lady I gotta avoid-”

“Who?”

She was abrupt, quickly apologising for interrupting him. He didn’t mind. “She’s like this... musician? I think. I’m sure you’ll know who she is. I’m awful at keeping up with whatever the kids are doing now. (Y/N)- (Y/N) something.”

There was a pause, awkwardly long. “My assistant says I gotta stay away from her” her continues, feeling a need to fill the gap. “Just doesn’t feel right to me, you know? To judge someone like that before you’ve even met them?”

He watches as she nods her head, deep in thought. She meets his eyes and nods again, faster, showing to him now that she agrees. She understands. He’s not quite sure how she understands, but he believes her; she didn’t strike him as the dishonest sort.

Pedro’s phone vibrates in his pocket, startling them both and they share another soft laugh. He grabs it, seeing Alicia's text flash on the screen - You’ve got a meeting with the producers to go over filming. 10 minutes. Ah shit.

“Everything okay?” There’s concern in her voice, and Pedro wonders if she knows he has to go. If she’s just as disappointed as he is.

“Yeah, yeah. I just - I gotta go.”

She’s definitely disappointed. He knows because her bright eyes fall the same way his did.

He’d never quite felt like this; like a magnet was drawing him to someone and like it would hurt in his soul to let her go. It occurred to him then, he didn’t even know her name, and he’d be damned if he was going to crawl back into the world of PR and publicity stunts and rehearsed answers without finding it out.

“It was nice to meet you. I don’t know if you- you want to get a coffee? Or something? After filming?”

The same harsh edge she had when they met, the one that had slipped and softened as they talked, seemed to have crept back as a once-sweet smile became that sly, cautious smirk. He couldn’t quite understand what she was thinking, what the cogs that so clearly turned in her mind were churning up, but he knew he didn’t care as long as he got to see her again.

“I’d like that.” Pedro sighs in relief, smiling again and sticking out an ice-bitten hand. “I’m Pedro.”

She giggles, offering her own hand and he stalled at the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his own. “I know.” She retorts, and he laughs, and just when she opens her mouth to tell him her own name-

“Pedro! We gotta go!”

Alicia shoves the door open, not even looking up from her phone which was presumably inundated with countless emails and phone calls, and Pedro sighs before looking desperately into the still nameless women’s eyes. She just smiles, dropping his hand and digging hers into her pockets. “Go on. I'll catch you later.”

He nods, swallowing and offering a small, regretful smile before pushing himself off the wall and following Alicia back inside. She huffs at him, speeding back off down the corridor and muttering something along the lines of “these goddamn producers”. He looks back a final time, to where the woman still sits in the windowsill. She waves, and he grins, unable to hide the childlike excitement her little gesture gave him before waving back and letting the door shut behind him.

—------

“We’ve got a fantastic show for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get some guests on!”

Pedro hears the roar of the audience, only a single wall between them and him as he waits to hear his name. He looks around the room; Robert and Kate are stood with him, chatting away at something he’d stopped listening to a little while ago. He felt better now he’d met them - they were lovely, so down to earth and genuinely happy to chat to him and hear what he had to say. It made him less nervous, and you might even say he was looking forward to this now.

There was no sign of her though. The singer - (Y/N). Alicia had scoffed, “typical,” just 10 minutes earlier, when there had been no sign. And she still wasn’t here.

“We’ve got the newly Emmy-nominated actor, best known for his amazing roles in The Mandalorian and HBO’s The Last Of us,” the audience’s roars got louder, “Mr. Pedro Pascal!”

It’s time.

He pulls his suit jacket a little tighter around himself, laying his palm flat against the bottom of his chest. With the other hand, he waves, smiling brightly at the crowd who cheered him on. Graham greets him, pulling him in for a hug and welcoming him back, before pointing him towards the end of the couch. Pedro gives the audience a final wave, mouthing ‘thank you’s and trying to express his gratitude for the love that filled the room.

Kate and Robert came next, shaking his hand and ‘introducing’ themselves again, despite the fact he’d already met them an hour earlier. A producer runs up to Graham, whispering something in his ear before darting off in the other direction. Graham rolls his eyes playfully, turning towards the audience and announcing, “we’ve got a late one!” The audience laugh, and Graham just organises his cue cards as producers usedthe extra time to prepare the camera angles and get the lighting right.

Graham looks at the couch, smiling with a wink. “Don’t worry - she’ll be here in a minute.”

“Is this (Y/N) again?” Robert asks, grinning.

“You’ve met her?” Pedro jumps in, falling into small talk among the four of them.

“A couple of times now yeah,” Robert replies. “I think she’s great, really funny. She's just… not the most put together person.”

They laugh, and Kate recounts her own story of having to wait on some celebrity or another, entertaining the crowd.

Graham parts from the conversation after around 10 minutes, holding a finger to his ear piece and nodding at whatever he was being told from the other end of the line. He stands up, smiling wide and turning to the audience, “she’s here! We have our rockstar ready.”

Cheers immediately erupt, and Graham turns to the guests to check they’re all ready to carry on with the show. Pedro nods, anticipation building as he spots Alicia from the corner of his eye, keeping watch.

“And don’t worry everyone, we’ll cut that little intermission out!” The room laughs. “Now I’m very glad introduce our last, but certainly not least, guest of the night. She’s the lead singer of Grammy-nominated band The Heartbreakers, she’s one of the most famous women in the world right now, and she’s only a tad terrifying. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome - (Y/N) (L/N)!

The audience becomes the loudest they’ve been all night, standing and yelling as the final guest takes the stage, and -

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s her. The woman from outside, the one he’d been thinking about all afternoon. The one whose name he never learned. 

She looks different; she looks like the woman he’d been warned about. She looks dangerous. Where a black hoodie had hung from her shoulders, a black lace dress now clung to her figure and he could see the tattoos that littered her sleeveless arms. The bags under her eyes were gone, as was the pink on her cheeks; her skin was painted, perfected, sculpted with darker shades and glowing radiantly. Her lips were black and glossy, so neatly done that she almost looked like a doll. Thick eyeliner carried a smoky shadow across her eyelid and beyond, drowning the same (Y/E/C) eyes he’d memorised in black.

She was ethereal.

And she was his one, single instruction for the night. Don’t get involved in her.

She waves at the audience, smirking in the same sly way she’d done to him earlier; he saw more clearly that they were the same now. She has the same charm, same charisma, same allure and yet she seems all the more potent now as she strides across the stage in 6 inch heels and pulls Graham into a tight hug, like old friends. She whispers something in his ear, and he throws his head back with a laugh before she saunters to the couch, where the three guests stand up to greet her. She and Kate introduce one another with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile, before she gives Robert another tight hug and they share a word that Pedro can hear now. “I have to stay here an extra 10 minutes ‘cos of you” Robert quips, causing (Y/N) to pull back and look at him with a cocked brow.

“You know I’m worth it, Downey.”

With that, she turns to face Pedro, and his breath hitches the same way it did when they’d first met. Her grin falters slightly, and there it is again; that honesty. She almost seemed like she was putting on a show, with her slow saunter and cheeky remarks, but there was nothing false about the way she wrapped her arms around him and looked into his eyes.

“My name’s (Y/N).”

He just laughs. He can’t help it. She makes him feel giddy. “I know.”

The audience’s applause dies down, and (Y/N) takes her spot as the star guest, and the first on the couch closest the Graham. He talks between them and the crowd, commenting on what a great line up they had today, despite certain delays, which has the audience howling again. (Y/N) laughs with them, shaking her head and pretending to cover her face with her hand, before looking up at Graham and saying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I got held up!”

“Well you have to tell us what happened,” Graham retorts, and they banter as (Y/N) recounts getting stuck in the backstage toilets. She has everyone wrapped around her finger, listening to everything she says and laughing at her jokes, and Pedro can’t find himself believing the warnings Alicia had given him. 

He remembers Bella, and how much praise they had for her, and he gets it. He sees what they see.

“Well you’re here now, that’s all that matters. We actually haven’t seen you for a while!” 

(Y/N) nods, her demeanour becoming slightly more serious. “No, it’s been a strange few months.” 

Graham continues, “the last time you were on the show was 2021. And obviously as most of us here know, you've had quite a difficult time since then, right? Tell me how you’ve been.”

She takes a sharp breath, and Pedro could’ve sworn she glanced up at him before she answers. “Well, yeah. I’m sure it’s no surprise to anyone that I was struggling with addiction for… most of my career, really.”

“‘No surprise’?” - Graham interjects - “you used to get high on stage!” It seemed judgemental, but it quickly became clear that he and (Y/N) had that sort of friendship, the kind where you can talk to one another so blatantly. She purses her lips at him, and he giggles, which makes her break the feigned offence and giggle too. 

“Look, man, that’s rock and roll.” The room laughs again. “No but seriously, yeah, it just got worse and worse until… well, you know what happened. it was hard. But I’ve gotten clean, I haven’t touched that shit in what, 8 months?” The crowd launch into cheers and applause, echoed by Graham and the other guests. Pedro could see how much it meant to her, how she tried to keep a stoic appearance despite the tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. She mouths a thank you, and he longs to skip right past Robert and Kate to be by her side, to hold her. She recovers quickly, something Pedro notes she seems to do a lot; cover her moments of weakness as soon as they start. Instead she sits up straighter and jokes, “I think everyone’s worried I’m gonna be boring now, without the drugs.”

Graham laughs, “I mean, you are known for being one of the more controversial artists out there.”

“If anything, I think being high slowed me down. I’m just gonna get worse, now.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Graham jokes, “you’re going on tour again soon, I’m not sure we can handle it.”

The audience cheer even louder at the mention of the tour, making (Y/N)’s smile grow wider. “Yep, new album, new tour. It’s all happening.”

Graham turns to Pedro suddenly, as if remembering he had three other guests to rope into the conversation. “Do you listen to this sort of music, Pedro? The Heartbreakers?”

And, shit. Pedro can feel Alicia’s eyes burning into him from off-stage, and he recalls her warnings about this very situation.

Don’t make friends with her

Don’t give the media something to talk about

Don’t ruin your reputation

And yet, her voice got quieter and quieter in his head, as the sound of (Y/N)’s laugh and the pierce of her eyes became all he could think about. The decision was pretty easy to make, really.

“I actually hadn’t heard of them, until today.” Graham chuckles at his reply. “But I think I’ll have to start listening.”

The crowd cheer, and the pair lock eyes for what could’ve only been a few seconds, but felt like so much longer. She tries to fight the way the corners of her mouth pull upwards, white teeth poking through painted black lips, but when she sees him smiling back at her she lets them go and drowns in the butterflies she’s so unused to feeling.

God, he was in so much trouble.

[funtheysaid]

IWTV 2x02 Initial Thoughts (Stream Of Consciousness)

- ooh the title card changed! I’ve been wanting to see the Eiffel Tower as a “fang” since season two was announced. WE IN PARIS BABY!

- ayooo three-way (interview) incoming

- Daniel’s “Paris sucks” aka “Paris is where my ex-bf is from and he sucks (dick), but not mine anymore, and no, I’m not bitter abt that, his city just fucking stinks (literally)”

- not two minutes in and Devil’s Minion is already flirting bickering

- ALICE MENTION alice!armand truthers are gon love that shit i just know

- “I’ll tell you what a woman is” That’s my sapphic-coded queen!!! 🕯️ pls S2 give me claudeleine 🕯️

- “Gauche” well, yes.

- Loumand: 🥰🥰 Daniel: ���� he‘s so second-hand embarrassed for them I can’t

- I mean, it’s crazy. What? We finish each other’s- I WAS WITH HIM FOR LONGER THAN LESTAT WAS WITH HIM WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN DANIEL PUT IT ON RECORD WEVE BEEN FUCKING FOR LIKE DOUBLE THE TIME …that’s what i…was….gonna say?

- Louis would be that faux-intellectual hipster who has his own darkroom full of overexposed and blurry, unfocused photos that are his “art” bc he took them on film (affectionate)

- Not claudia calling him out on it in the next scene “let me think I’m deeper than I am” okay honey you do you

- “She’s miserable but she doesn’t want to fuck with your too delusional left bank dilettante vibes” ahh the narrative foils are foiling, I see

- The show: Alice was pregnant, My dumb ass: OMEGAVERSE DEVILS MINION !?!?

- “joyfully joyless” MOOD.

- Claudia looking at Madeleine like “I don’t know if I want to be her or be with her” Dw babe it’s a rite of passage for all of us you’ll figure it out

- “Your French is ugly” 🥹👉👈 weally?

- “the dress for my body” LOOK I know what she meant, but I can’t help it that my mind is perverted

- LMFAO NOT GLORYHOLE PARK

- okay why Loumand playing with my heart “I will never harm you. And I never have” wtf wtf wtf

-Oh no the ole business card trick! we all know that’s Louis’ kryptonite he loves a man with credentials

- i like girls, but why is santiago kinda…

- Woah the Annika scene was really hard to watch which I think was the point but goddamn idk if I’ll be able to rewatch that part

- Estelle is my self-insert. I’m claiming her.

- “You both fucked Lestat!?!” HOW DID THEY KNOW WE WANTED HIM TO SAY THAT!?

- “He tasted of vermouth and annihilation” We both know you have no earthly idea what that man tastes like, Armand. Be so fucking fr right now.

- Did Armand just casually drop that he had a threesome with a father and son? I’m sorry, sir????

- “Now I know what two blood fat cocks slapping hands feel like” When I tell you my spirit left my body

- oh shit here we go. I’m a caged animal and it’s time for my weekly enrichment. give me my loustat.

- there’s a letter !?!? Wait wait I wasn’t ready for something like this wait stop stop please

- “all my love belongs to you. you are its keeper” just take me out back and shoot me at this point

- “it is a thin veil” fucking fuck why was that so romantic??

- the blood tears welling up in Lestat’s eyes I’m-

- “Rebound of my life” and in that moment, he spoke for the people

- WHAT IS HAPPENING???? Jesus Christ, they were talking about Alice and then it cuts to FUCKING ARMAND!?! This is not a drill. Everyone to your stations, this is not a drill.

- “You sold your Dad’s playboy magazines at recess” Hmmm? You’re telling me a “straight” teenage boy sold porno mags instead of keeping them for himself??? Yeah, I call gay on that one

- “she wanted to say yes” you motherfuckers.

- Oh shit Louis is pissy tonight rawr kitty got claws

- Devils minion girlies are thriving, skin glowing, hair silky, breath minty, pillow cold, stomach full, dreams sweet, and by Jove, we fucking deserve it !!!!

- daniel’s shaky “um- gulp” …….guys this is gonna sound crazy but i think there might actually be a god

- ooh the camera/photography being like a divide or barrier between Louis and his present situation. Like he wants to capture the moments, but only as if an onlooker and not a participant… interesting!

- “Who?” will never not be funny

- “Mon ami” in the same episode as “Mon Cher” FUCK ME GENTLY WITH A CHAINSAW

- “Armand for you” nah nah nah i changed my mind, you can do like Leatherface and shove that chainsaw in rough and hard

- Close up on Louis’ conflicted face, fire blazing behind him…. That’s not foreboding in any way. I’m sure they’ll all live happily ever after from now on :D

What a ride! Until next week! 🧛‍♂️🩸

[foxilayde]

Conversion Rates [Nathan Bateman x Reader]

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Nathan gets some unexpected news.

Warnings: Cigarettes, talk about death, talk about blood, brief mention of oral sex.

A/N: Feel free to ignore 💚

There’s buzzing coming from Nathan’s side of the bed. Long and persistent enough that it appears in your dreams, morphs into reality, and annoys you to the point of shoving your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Get it.” You grunt, peeking a bleary eye open to the clock at your own night table. 3:55am. Only someone with a death wish would be calling Nathan at this hour.

“I’m gonna kill whoever that is.” Nathan is haplessly searching for his glasses, he groans when he finds them and flips the blankets off of himself to then locate the source of the buzzing. The person must’ve called again because the buzzing has been going on for at least a minute.

“Whomever.” You yawn.

“What’d you say” Nathan grunts distractedly while pawing the sheets, searching for his phone.

“Nothing.”

“Were you correcting my grammar? At four in the goddamn morning?”

“Hey don’t get cranky on me. I’m not the one calling.” You sleepily smile at him as he shakes his head, “go back to sleep,” he mutters to you when he answers the call.

“What?” Nathan answers simply, the greeting replete with annoyance. He’s scratching his head and then suddenly his hand stops like it forgot what it was supposed to be doing. His back goes rigid and he shakes his head quickly before swallowing and swinging his legs out to rest on the floor, elbows on knees, forehead in palm.

“Yeah I’m here… mmhmm…yeah.. Sure…. Yeah… okay…” He sighs a lot and rubs his head, h is eyes, his beard. This doesn’t sound like a work emergency. You scoot close to him and soothe his back in long slow strokes. He puts a hand on your knee.

“Yeah. Friday…. Uh huh. Okay thanks— no, not— … I don’t know what to say, Aimes. It’s fucking four am over here…. That’s….. alright fine, whatever, see you Friday… yeah you can tell her. Fine, don’t tell her, tell her, either way I’m— I’ll be there…. Yeah. Okay it’s okay, I’m fucking—……. Yeah. Got it…. Bye.”

Nathan’s jaw clenches and one breath after hanging up he hurls his phone across the room and against the concrete wall in an over handed frisbee-type toss. It cracks against the wall and thuds on the rug.

“Oh, that one got some air. Eight point seven. I’m deducting a point for lack of expletive. Couldn’t even give me a ‘bastard’? Disappointing, Bateman. You’ll never make it to regionals with that attitude.”

Nathan pulls both hands down his face and lays back down. Not in a joking mood. It’s quite possible he didn’t hear you at all.

“Was it work?” You ask quietly, changing your tone to something softer, something more befitting the early hour and the mystified expression on his face.

“No.” He breaths. Your eyes fall to the smithereened phone.

“Where are you going on Friday?”

“Hmmm?”

“You said something about being there Friday? Where’s there?”

“New York.”

“But not HQ?”

“No.”

Nathan puts his arms behind his head and stares impassively at his reflection in the mirrored ceiling. He is nowhere near a playful mood, so it’s a mystery to you why he’s making you play 20 questions, but as long as he’s answering, you’ll keep asking. Your first instinct is to inquire how many questions of the twenty remain, but his face reminds you of the early hour and you think better of it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offer sincerely.

Nathan blinks several times but does not answer.

“You want to go back to sleep?”

Nathan sighs and shakes his head slightly.

“You want me to make you a smoothie? Or some matcha just the way you like it? I promise I’ll use the whisk and not a fork this time.”

No response.

“Although I’d like to do the Pepsi test on you with that and see if you really can taste the difference.”

“Honey.”

“You gotta admit, it’s a little pretentious.”

“My dad’s dead.”

“What?”

“Funeral’s on Friday. New York. That was Amy.” His face is impassive as ever. You however flip the fuck out.

“OH my GOD. Nathan!” You opt out of a crushing hug and gently place your hand over his heart instead. “I’m so sorry.” Your brow furrows. “What happened?”

“Heart attack.”

“Nathan, I’m so sorry.” You repeat, at a loss for words.

“Hey, if he didn’t want to die from a heart attack, he should have taken better care of himself.” Nathan pulls the rumpled sheet over himself and turns to face you. “C’mere. Let’s go back to sleep.” He beckons you to your little spoon spot with one grabby hand.

You don’t ask him if he’s sure, let alone ask him if he’d rather talk about it. Something like this is going to take your boyfriend months to process. You scoot back against him and kiss his hand.

“Don’t for a second think this gets you out of our 6am trail run, by the way.” He grumbles and kisses your shoulder.

You pat his arm, the one that crosses your chest and holds you flush against him. “You don’t think we could skip the hell trail, I mean the trail run, just this once? I mean, we should probably pack. We’ve still gotta helicopter out of here and plus the time difference in New York, Friday is technically only… fifty one hours from now. Your family probably needs help? With things— arrangements?”

“You don’t have to go with me.”

“Oh shut up, of course I’m going, you nut.”

“This is so fucking typical of him.”

“What is? Perishing?”

“Fucking up everything.”

“Yes. Very rude of him to die on this the morning of our trail run. What an asshole.”

“You think I’m kidding. I’m not kidding. He made it his life’s goal to be as much of a burden as he possibly could. Died as he fucking lived.”

“Hey now, save some of that heartfelt sentimentality for the eulogy.”

*******

“I’m not speaking. Absolutely the fuck not.”

“Nathan, come on. You have to say some words. They don’t have to be true, you just go up and say “He will be missed” and you can leave out the “just not by me” part. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Can’t believe Amy would just assume that I’m going to do it and stick it in the fucking program.”

“Totally, who does she think you are? The only son of the man who died, or something? Pretty presumptuous of her.” You roll your eyes.

Nathan takes an angry drag from what is probably his twentieth cigarette of the day, and it’s only noon. You didn’t even know he smoked until you landed in New York and his first stop was at the Bronx Boulevard Bodega and Deli for a pack of Viceroy 100s.

“You keep staring at me like that and your face is gonna get stuck that way.” Was the only ‘conversation’ the two of you had about the revisited habit when he lit up in the back of the towncar on your way from his mom’s place to the church on Tinton Ave.

Cars honk and whiz by. It’s dry and exceptionally cold for April, you tug your black coat closer around your middle. Nathan doesn’t flinch to the temperature in his thin black wool blazer, still in agitated ponderance, still pissed off at his dead father. He’s been standing outdoors most of the day already. Excusing himself to his mother’s porch to chain smoke all by himself in lieu of making small talk at the pre-funeral breakfast with his mother, sister, and yourself.

You check your watch before tucking your arm back around yourself in a contained shiver.

“Service starts in ten minutes. You think we should head in?”

“Go ahead. I’ll meet you in there.”

“Seriously Nate, lets go.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do okay, you’re not my mother.”

“Oh shit, you’re right I’m not. She is inside though. I can go get her if you want. She’s passing out programs right now for her dead husband’s funeral services, but I’m sure she’d be willing to stop the world and burp you, or whatever the hell you need that’ll make you stop acting like a child.”

“Fuck off, alright?” His Bronx accent gets thicker with each passing cancer stick.

“You know, it pains me to say it, but for as much as you hate your father…”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t have to, you already know.”

Nathan flips the lid of his cigarettes, curses, crumples the Viceroy box, and shoves it back in his pocket.

“Out of excuses are we?” You’re trying to be supportive, you really really are, but he’s being fucking ridiculous. You loop your arm around his, hoping he’ll be too upset and distracted to stop you from leading him into the church.

He lets you take him two steps forward before halting. “I haven’t been in there since I was fifteen.”

“Looks intimidating.” You nod at the tall dark grey stone walls and narrow strips of stained glass.

“‘It’s fucking creepy is what it is.”

“Are you… scared? Of seeing him?”

“Who? The lifesize bloody effigy of Christ the redeemer suspended from the middle of the ceiling? Yeah, a little. Did I ever tell you that my first nightmare as a child was thinking I was caught in a tropical rainstorm in my bedroom, but then, I look up, and its a fifty foot tall man in a loincloth and barbed wire crown floating above me, bleeding on me in these fat, red drops—“

“Holy shit— no, what the fuck? I’m talking about seeing your dad. About the open casket… fuck me. We’ll unpack that levitating son-of-god nightmare later.”

“I haven’t spoken to my dad in… I don’t know. I don’t even remember the last time we talked on the phone. I’m trying….to remember the last time I saw his face and… I….can’t.”

Nathan swallows hard and looks up at the overcast sky. He’s, choked up, his chin quivers angrily.

“Some holiday probably. If there even was a holiday in the last ten years that he spent someplace other than that hole on 165th.” He shakes his head and bites his lip in resolve. “I can’t do it, honey. I can’t go in there for him. I can’t do this this when he would have never—“

“Then don’t do it for him.” You squeeze the crook of his elbow. “Do it for your mom, who misses her husband. Do it for Amy, who is equally as fucking pissed at her dad but had to organize this whole funeral anyway, without any help.” You poke his chest.

Nathan grimaces.

“And most importantly, do it for me.” You peck him on his cringing lips, “because I am fucking freeeezing.” He kisses you again and you pull back and grin at the novel tang. “So that’s what Mac DeMarco’s ashtray tastes like, I’ve always wondered.”

He smiles for the first time in days. It’s a little one, but it’s there. “I’ll do it. I’ll go in, I’ll speak. For you. But, you owe me.”

“You still accept blowjobs as payment, I assume?”

“Yeah but the conversion rate in New York is much higher than in Norway.”

“Wow, how randomly convenient for you. The rich just keep getting richer, don’t they?”

Nathan gives your butt a tap to usher you inside. “That’s economics for you.”

END

[spidervee]

in which tangerine and you share an, uh, explosive moment 🌻 18+ for swears, sexual tension and innuendo and implied smut, violence and explosives

“I’m almost out of fuckin’ bullets.” Beside you, Tangerine is reloading his gun, the absolute picture of sin with his hair a dishevelled mess and blood streaked across his cheek and his shirt unbuttoned just outside the realm of decency.

Catching your breath, hands on your knees as you’re crouched over, you try a laugh, hoping to cut some of the tension. “S’alright, love,” you tease, “Fuck the gun, just put those big muscles to work.”

“Fuck off,” Tangerine mutters, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping his knuckle dusters off and readjusting them on his fingers. Just in case. “Just fuckin’ set the fuckin’ charges before I have to throw these bastards through the wall, yeah? Fuckin’ ruined my suit and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, straightening up, “A tragedy, really. Hamlet, Lear, Tangerine.”

He scowls at you and you reach out to pat his cheek, hand cupping his face for a tender moment before you lean over for a short peck on his lips. “Be careful,” you warn him, all hints of humour gone from your voice. “If you die, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“How goddamn Shakespearean,” Tangerine scoffs, eyebrows quirked to match the upward tick of his moustache.

Thundering footsteps steal your attention and it’s back to business, Tangerine giving your bottom a little tap with the muzzle of his gun as you stand. When you glare at him, he winks.

“You’ve got three minutes,” you tell him. He insists he’ll only need two.

Later, you’ll tease him that, actually, it took him two minutes and twenty-four seconds to retrieve the hard drive you’re there for, but the moment he meets you by the entrance, you’re too relieved to do anything but wrap your arms around him and kiss him hard. But only for the briefest of seconds.

“Run,” you whisper against his lips, grabbing at this wrist and taking off as far as you can from the building that’s about to blow to pieces.

You’ve only just cleared it, ducking into an alley less than half a block away, when the thing goes up in flames. It’s never as dramatic as the movies—a fact that was utterly disappointing the first time you exploded something, but you’ve since gotten used to it.

As if reading your mind, Tangerine wraps an arm around your waist and pulls your back flush against his hard chest. His heart is pounding and he smells like sweat and sulphur, but the action makes your knees quiver. “Fucking spectacular, love,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “You’re a bloody artist.”

The hand not around your waist snakes down to rub teasingly between your legs, making you whine. You notice there’s still blood on the gold of his rings and knuckle dusters but you can’t be arsed to care.

“People are gonna show up soon,” you warn, but it’s half-hearted. “Burning building and all.”

Tangerine smirks against your neck, biting your pulse point gently. “They’ll be too distracted to see us, love. Burning building and all.”

[lemmetreatya]

Southern Reiner not being used to the cold at all. Every time the temperature drops below 59, he stocks up on milk and bread and salts the driveway and you can't even step outside for a minute without him going "baby, where's your gloves? You're gonna freeze!"

FINALLY GETTING GRACED WITH A SOUTHERN REINER ANON DO YOU KNOW HOW MICH SCREAMING IM DOING RN?! TOP 3 FAVE CONCEPTS OF THIS MAN UFFUFUFF

Okay but big man would genuinely be so concerned for your health and well being due to colder seasons and itd be so amusing seeing him fuss around you (not like he dont do that anyways) but to suddenly see big burly reiner, who usually isn’t fretful of anything, suddenly worried and apprehensive just makes you swoooon with laughter!! 🤭🤭

Rubbing your eyes of sleep, you stand by the front door of your farmhouse to watch your husband frantically shovelling snow salt onto the drive way.

It was much earlier than he was supposed to rise today, considering it was your turn to give all the animals their feed, but he seemed to be up for a different agenda.

With your hands now on your hips, you squeeze your face at him.

“Reiner, what in the world’s you doing out here at fuck-o’clock in the morning?”

Suddenly hearing your voice, Reiner looks up in panic before dropping his shovel and extending his hand out towards you.

“Baby, no! Get back inside!”

“Why?!” You exclaim.

You stick your head out the door further to check your surroundings. If snow was going to fall, it would have done so in the night. However, all that was on the ground was a thin layer of frosty morning dew.

With a flail of his arms, Reiner continues to talk at you from the bottom of the drive way.

“I’m serious, get back in! It’s way too cold for yer to be out at this time, you’ll freeze!”

Deciding to play with him, you briefly close your eyes and take a deep breath of the outside air. The action only makes Reiner panic more.

Once you breathe out a whaft of warm air that creates a steam of white come out of your mouth, you shrug.

“Welp, it don’t feel too cold to me! My lungs are still warm.” You joke.

“Oi, stop that, you’ll catch a nasty bug!” Bundled in his wooly scarf, hat and gloves, Reiner makes a beeline towards you.

To play with him even more, you step outside the door and stand just on the welcome mat. Still in your sleepwear of silk gown, slippers and hair bonnet, you amusingly start to peel off the shoulders to your gown.

“But the weather feels fiiiiine to me!” You coo.

By this point, Reiner knows you were playing with him so when he reaches you, he has a half grumpy, half tired grin on his face.

“You play way too goddamn much.” He grumbles.

Seeing he wasn’t mad, you playfully turn around to shake your ass in his face, but he puts a stop to it by landing a large palmed slap-and-grab to the bouncy flesh.

Inside, now!” He muses.

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day six!)

(it’s a shorter one this time🕳️🎢 i promise it’ll be worth it tomorrow~)

(read them all here!)

you found yourself growing excited every time the clock struck 4:56 pm and the little bells on the door of the cafe jingled. it was a sense of pride for you, too; a subtle reminder that you got to serve coffee to and talk with the number one hero in all of japan.

dynamight.

what a dorky name.

“oi, anybody home?” dynamight snapped annoyedly. oh, right. he’s actually here. you quickly look up at him (really looking up. he must be around 6’4).

“sorry, sorry. the usual?” you ask.

“obviously.” dynamight scoffs as you ring him up. he pays (credit card. that’s new.) and goes to sit as you immediately begin making his coffee. you pour the dark roast into the mug and set it down in front of dynamight.

“so, dynamight.”

“whaddaya want?” he asks gruffly as he takes a sip.

“no, like, dynamight.” you clarify. “your name. what brought it about?”

“i have an explosion quirk, dumbass. dynamight blows up. see the correlation, or do i have to spell that out too?” dynamight rolled his eyes.

“but it’s spelled different,” you point out. dynamight falls silent, busying himself with his coffee. you try to think about why he’d name himself dynamight and not simply dynamite. might. what would might signify? a symbol of pure strength?

a symbol.

a symbol of peace.

“hold on..” you say slowly, putting two and two together. “dynamight. all might. you don’t mean to say…”

“shut up, dammit!” dynamight barked, the tips of his ears turning pink. you snicker.

“so i’m right.”

“i never said that!”

“i totally am.”

“shut the fuck up!”

“my lips are sealed.”

“obviously not, if you’re running your damn mouth like this!”

you simply laugh, finding the whole exchange extremely entertaining. it takes a few minutes to calm down, but you figure it out.

“so, you like all might?”

“got a problem with it?” dynamight glared.

“nope. i like him, too.” you smile. “he’s incredible.”

“i’m gonna surpass him.” dynamight grunted. “i’ll do it.”

“and i’ll be right here, ready with your medium black coffee.” you replied, half teasing, half serious.

“good. otherwise i’m gonna kill those goddamn sidekicks of mine.”

“tell me more about them.” you say suddenly.

“hah? why?” dynamight narrowed his eyes. you smiled again. the way he said “hah” whenever he was confused— it was kind of endearing.

“‘cuz i’m curious.” you shrug. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“yeah, well, if i don’t, you’ll be annoying as shit about it.” dynamight scoffed. “but i’ve got a ton of ‘em. i’m not giving you information on every damn one. i’ll be here all night.”

“heroes need their beauty sleep.” you agree solemnly. “tell me about the one you mentioned, the one with the bad stamina. what’s his name?”

“i don’t know.” dynamight stated bluntly. you blink.

“you don’t know?” you repeat.

“yeah.”

“so then what do you call him?” you ask, completely dumbstruck that he forgot the name of a person he works with daily.

“dumbass. idiot. slowpoke. nerd.” dynamight listed off. how did he remember the nicknames but not the names?

“okay, okay, so you don’t know his name, got it. what’s his quirk?”

“he’s quirkless.” dynamight stated. his tone seemed off, but you had trouble finding the proper word for it. defensive, maybe? stiff?

“he’s quirkless?”

“yeah. but he’s smart as hell. reminds me of-“ dynamight cut himself off.

“reminds you of what?” you push gently.

“none of your goddamn business.” he instantly shot back.

“well, it’s incredible that a quirkless person could become a hero.” you muse. “times have changed, huh?”

“he went through hell and back tryna become one.” dynamight grunted, sipping his coffee aggressively (how did he manage to make sipping aggressive?). “he’s got my respect for that.”

“and you don’t know his name.” you tease. “a much respected sidekick indeed.”

“tch, shut up.” dynamight rolled his eyes.

“you call me dumbass, too, do you know my name?” you prod. dynamight stiffens, and you burst out laughing.

“oi, it’s not my damn fault you never told me!” he barked. you cover your mouth, not wanting to disturb other customers, but your shoulders still shook madly until you managed to catch your breath.

“okay, okay, that’s on me.” you gasp out. “you’re right. i never told you.”

“damn straight i’m right.” scoffed the hero.

“well, my name is (y/n) (l/n). it’s nice to meet you, dynamight.”

“yeah, good for you.” dynamight rolled his eyes. “i’m still calling you dumbass.” he stood up. he was done his coffee already. you found yourself ever so slightly disappointed; today’s conversation was thoroughly entertaining, and you found out a lot about dynamight.

“leaving already?” you ask with a smile.

“yeah. don’t miss me too much.” dynamight smirked.

“i’ll do my best.” you wave as he makes his way to the door. he pauses before giving a brief wave back.

“so, you like all might?”

“got a problem with it?”

<- previous next->

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Magic and Madness - Chapter Five

From Ancient Grudge Break to New Mutiny.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Tony Stark x Stephen Strange

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> It finally happens, and Tony finally snaps.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 3202

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) ALL THE SMUT. Internalised homophobia. Withdrawal.

𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, running relatively adjacent as of chapter thirteen (here), exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes chapter fifteen.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.

<- Previous Chapter (4/46) Next Chapter (5/46) ->

His fingers trembled in mine as he shook his head, sweating lightly. “Couldn’t you have just put me at zero? I-I don’t know if I can make it. Or at least make me feel a little less like I’m gonna die?”

“I offered an hour ago, sweetheart. You told me you wanted to earn it,” I reminded him softly, kissing his hair with a wince. “We don’t have to do this... I just wanted to make sure you’re clear.”

“I’m clear. I just kind of wish I was dead,” he snorted weakly, shaking his head. “But it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m honoured to have the opportunity. It’s certainly not anything I should be graced with.”

I sighed quietly, pulling him closer. “You know, this is already morally questionable. Can we stop with the self-deprecation before I feel -  even more than I already do - like I’m making you do something you don’t want to?”

He blinked up at me in surprise, chin resting lightly on my chest. “You feel that way?”

I nodded tersely, glancing away. “Can you blame me? You hate the part of yourself that wants this.”

“You make me hate it – you make me hate myself less, Stephen. Do you really think I’d be lay here otherwise?” he murmured, cheek finding the soft cotton of his own hoodie once more, hand squeezing mine gently. “I want this. I want you. And I want to be less goddamn terrified of that, and the only thing that has ever made the blindest bit of difference to that is... Well, you.”

I smiled weakly, brushing my fingers against his forehead. “You’re at 0.002.”

He blinked in surprise before grinning, eyes flickering minutely as he did rapid math. “Eight minutes, give or take.”

“Enough time for you to prepare yourself?”

His lips found my throat, and I shivered. “It’s enough time for me to prepare you...” Humming, his fingertips skimmed the edge of my – his – hoodie thoughtfully. “You know, I can’t tell if I’d rather have you naked and begging, or wearing my sweatshirt and begging...”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll be begging, Mr. Stark,” I quipped.

Please, please, make me beg.

... Yes, I see the irony.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t take my slow, sweet time until you do, Doctor Strange,” he breathed, lips skimming mine.

“Oh, you can definitely take your time with me,” I gulped, fingers tightening in the back of his shirt.

“Hm... I doubt you’ll be saying that after the few seconds I don’t.” His palm smoothed my thigh, sliding slowly higher.

I don’t think I’ll be saying anything at any point, short of ‘yes’, ‘please’, ‘more’, ‘Sir’...

My fingertips brushed his forehead as his hand squeezed and pinched teasingly at my skin. 0.00098. Less than four minutes.

... Oh. I never said anything.

“I, um...” Good work. “Yeah. That sounds... good.”

He snorted, shaking his head fondly. “‘Good’ may be the wrong word. There will be nothing ‘good’ about it... But it will be very, very satisfying,” he purred, latching onto my pulse firmly, and biting hard.

“St- ah! Tony, a-a little high to leave a m-m-m... Mmm.” I felt the bruise bloom under his and cracked an eye to see him smirk, moving to a spot marginally lower and repeating the process. “T-Tone, I can’t h-hide th-th-”

“Good,” he growled before rocking onto his heels, fumbling desperately in his bedside drawer before returning to my side – and my throat. “You are mine, baby boy. Mine. They might not know who you belong to... But they’ll know you are owned.”

I shivered as his lubricated fingers skirted my length playfully, whimpering under his tender ministrations. “Y-yes. Yours. Please...”

He smirked against my skin, purring. “I thought you weren’t going to beg?”

I growled as I brushed my hand over his forehead, sighing with relief. “0.00001. Y-You're ready to go. And asking nicely isn’t begging, Stark.”

He hesitated minutely before kissing my bruised flesh gently. “Roll for me, sweetheart.”

Oh, I think ‘baby boy’ is my favourite. Not that I am ever going to admit that.

My hands shook as I obliged, both from my injury and the anxiety thrumming through my body. His arm around my waist jerked me onto my knees with a surprised whine, chest pressed to the sheets.

Breathe. I’ve got this. This is... This is everything I’ve wanted. Just relax...

The fingertip brushing against me made every muscle in my body react instinctively – even in spite of my internal pep talk - but he simply stayed where he was, caressing me gently until I relaxed slowly, peppering soft kisses along the side of my waist.

“... Okay. I-I’m good.”

He entered me lightly, massaging and teasing and encouraging with gentle murmurs and gentler kisses, and I blinked in surprise when his knuckles skimmed my skin.

I...He was so gentle, I didn’t even...

“Good?” he breathed, his free hand smoothing the line of my spine tenderly, and I nodded.

“I... Hm. Not bad. Weird. I-I’m not-” His finger twitched lightly, and I bit down on the sheets violently as I pushed back, desperate pleasure zinging through my veins. “Hmn. Good.”

He snorted quietly, caressing my sweet spot, making me mewl and writhe in delight. “More? I nodded desperately, stiffening once more as he probed at me again.

But, again, I was quickly shifting and whining. Any modicum of embarrassment at having him palm deep inside me had evaporated at he toyed with my prostate, back arching with need. “Oh, my sweet, needy baby boy... Do you want another?” I shook my head quickly, and he paused in surprise. “I... You want to stop?”

“N-No! Don’t you dare... I-I want you to fuck me,” I whimpered, rutting back needily. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” he murmured, nipping lightly at my waist, tongue smoothing the mark gently as I nodded.

“Please, Tony. I want you... More than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Please.”

He drew back slowly, leaving me empty and mewling.

The sound of tearing caught me by surprise as he moved to kneel behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder. “You know you’re cl-clean, right?”

“I... Assumed you’d be more comfortable with... I mean, I’m more than happy for you to take it all, baby boy.” I nodded quickly, shivering at the feeling of him lining himself up and the thought of his essence staining my insides. “Let me take my time, sweetheart... I don’t want to hurt you, so just stay still for me, okay?”

“Y- Yes.”

I gasped weakly as the lube trailed along me, shocked and excited, and he leaned over me, hand finding my hip. “Are you ready, baby boy?”

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes and focusing entirely on the feeling of his body against mine.

He pulled me up against his chest as he slowly entered me, discomfort and arousal sparking in my veins as his mouth found my throat. Hands reaching back of their own accord, I ran my fingers frantically through his hair and I mewled and whined, his hand on my abdomen gently guiding the angle of my hips.

“Fuck...” I whispered, stars sparking behind my vision as my head fell back of its own volition. He chuckled roughly against my throat, kissing the soft skin gently.

“Hey, Stephen?” he breathed, and I gulped.

“Hmn?”

His fingers skirted my own hardness, faint and teasing, as his lips found my ear, inching slowly deeper with a groan. “... Hm. There we go, baby boy... ... So... How does it feel to finally have my cock as deep inside you as I can get? Is it everything you dreamt of, sweetheart?”

You may as well kill me now, because my life isn’t going to get better than this.

“Yes... No. It’s more. So much more,” I whispered, and he reached up to turn my chin, lips claiming mine gently as his hips twitched lightly, sliding and grinding patiently.

Feeling him move inside of me had my fingers clenching against the nape of his neck, shuddering with pleasure, my free hand dropping to lazily caress my own throbbing member – until he batted me away, wrapping a loose fist around me and stroking me in time with his painfully light thrusts.

He’s making love to me.

Tony Stark, who I have wanted for longer than I will admit, is making love to me.

Did I die? Is this heaven?

If so, I’m fine with that – just don’t let it end.

He slid out further before rolling his hips, caressing my sweet spot lightly, and I jerked as I let out a soft whimper, eliciting a dry chuckle as his fingers twitched around my length. “Are you ready to beg yet, baby boy? Ready for me to fuck you into mattress?”

“Wh-hmmm- what happened to the teaser?” I stammered, back arching, and he growled, free hand tightening on my waist. “Is that what you want, honey? You think you can take it?”

“Y-yes, Sir- Fuck shit yes God please!” I yelped as he quickly shifted gears, hips snapping against mine, quick and rough and nothing like the sensual lovemaking I’d been blessed with thus far, jerking me in delightful synchrony.

He chuckles as he slowed once more, and whimpered, wriggling and thrusting back desperately. “What do you think? Worth begging for?”

“Please,” I gasped immediately, eyes falling closed as my temple found his. “Please, God, more of that. I-I’ll do anything for you. Please. I need this... I need you. I’ve wanted this for so long, and it’s so much better than I envisioned... Please, Tony. Fuck me harder.”

He growled, low and feral in my ear, pushing me down until my chest hit the bed before he set up a merciless, all-encompassing pace, hipbones bruising my soft skin as he pounded against me. True to his promise, a few tears rolled from the intense pleasure pooling in my abdomen, and I whimpered desperately, rutting back against him.

“F-fuck, yes, Tony... So good. It’s so good. You’re so good. Don’t stop... Don’t ever stop.”

His fingers found my hips to pull me back onto him more forcefully, snarling as he fucked me without hesitation. “Touch yourself for me, baby boy. I want to see you come with my cock in your ass.” He groaned when I obliged immediately, fingers precise and experienced on my own length. “Fuck, so eager to obey, aren’t you? Just so... Desperate. God, you feel so good... So fucking tight. I didn’t know you’d be this tight...”

I whined wordlessly as I pressed back against his stuttered monologue, needy and frantic as I impaled myself upon him. “F-for you. Only for you. Please...”

His hands tightened on my flesh, jerking me closer. “You just want me to fill you up, huh? Want my come leaking down those cute thighs as you finally cum for me?”

I nodded desperately, and he rolled his hips, my fingers working me eagerly. “Please. Please, Tony, I-I...”

“You just want to come for me, don’t you, baby boy... Ask nicely.” He held me closer as he worked me powerfully, the grip on my hips jerking me back in time with his thrusts.

“Pl- fuck, just there- please, Tony, S-Sir... Please... Please can I come?” I gasped out, shaking in pleasure at rumble of satisfaction in his chest, driving himself ever deeper.

“For me, baby boy. You can come for me.”

I cried out desperately as I exploded on command, hips stuttering back as I twitched and convulsed, and he groaned, nails scraping desperately along my spine. “You ready, honey? Ready for me to fill this tight ass at last?”

Nodding, I rode my high, whimpering frantically. “Please. Please. Fill me.”

He cursed as he surrendered, my hips jerking back against him of their own volition, a low keening escaping me. “Fuck... Stephen, Sparkles, fuck yes, baby boy... You feel so goodamn good, I can’t...” The hand on my ribs was rough as he sheathed himself as deeply as he could, but I only whined, burying my face in the sheets at the feeling of him exploding so beautifully far inside me.

I whimpered softly as he pulled me against his chest, gasping for breath and trembling violently. “Hmfnfgg.”

“Try again, baby boy,” he snorted, kissing my hair lightly.

“So good. Mn. So tired. So... Fucked.”

He laughed again, arms wrapping tighter around me. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“You?” I pressed, frowning lightly as I blindly tapped his bare skin, and he chuckled.

“Yes, Stephen. I enjoyed myself very much. That was... Quite possibly the best sex I’ve ever had,” he admitted softly, his cheek finding my hair gently.

“Good... S’nice. More of that,” I muttered, nodding, and he snorted.

“Get some sleep first, baby boy... We’ll both be here in the morning.”

“Every morning,” I corrected quietly, the arm draped over his waist pulling myself closer as he laughed.

“That’s right, sweet prince. Every morning.”

I woke in the middle of the night to him groaning and rolling and touching and whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and I whimpered in delight as he fucked me tenderly.

I can never get enough of this.

“I can never get enough of you,” I whispered into his chest as he held me, sweat damp and panting lightly.

“Oh, I’m sure I can facilitate that…” he murmured, pulling my chin up to find his once more. “Who needs sleep, anyway?”

It was the early hours of the morning before we finally fell once more into an easy sleep, his arm clamped around my waist protectively, relishing the feeling of his gentle breath on the back of my neck.

… I think I’m in love with him. No more falling, only fallen.

The delight in his eyes as he took in his own sweatshirt wreathed around me, his cocky grin as he pinned me to the sheets – but, more than anything, his taut-jawed determination to ride out his discomfort and prove himself worthy of me. His pure conviction to do his best… for me.

“Oh, I don’t deserve you,” I muttered to myself, rolling in his embrace to brush my fingertips against his cheekbone. To my mortification, he smiled softly, eyes flickering open to fix me in the mahogany depths.

“I think you’ve got that backwards, sweet boy…” he murmured fondly, pressing his forehead light to mine with a subtle wince.

“How are you feeling?” I pressed gently, and his lip curled.

“Like I’ve been smacked with the business end of Thor’s hammer. You?”

I smirked, shimmying closer, my arms snaking around his neck as his hand found my hip. “… Is it mean if I say absolutely delightful? It feels profoundly inconsiderate.”

He purred, lips brushing mine. “All tuckered out, baby boy?” I nodded, and he sighed playfully. “I guess not up for another round before breakfast, then…”

With a grin, I rolled him, pinning him beneath my weight. “I’m sure I can manage.”

I let out a groan as his arms wound around my waist from behind, eyeing my reflection with a scowl. “What exactly am I supposed to say about this?” I sighed, running my finger over the litany of bruises trailing vibrantly down my throat, and he purred as he mimicked the motion.

“You say nothing. You let them make their own conclusions… And I’d be lying if I said that the idea of them realising that it’s me that owns you isn’t terrifying and hot as hell in equal measure,” he chuckled, placing a gentle kiss to my shoulder. “Because I do – you know that, right? You are mine.” His fingertips found my abdomen, and I ground out a groan.

“Y-yes. Yours,” I breathed, head falling back. “I-I… We should… I mean… We’re expected at breakfast. You are, at least.”

He sighed, releasing me reluctantly as his palm brushed my waistband. “Fine. … Can we come back here after?”

I snorted, pivoting to kiss his forehead lightly. “I’d be honoured and grateful.”

“So desperate,” he sighed again, shaking his head fondly, smirking affectionately.

The incursion of necessary behaviours – like eating – was a scourge upon an otherwise perfect day, the time in between passing in a blur of gentle – and not-so-gentle – touches and passionate intercourse.

“Tony… I just… I can’t… Nobody should be this good,” I muttered against his hair as he stroked me lightly, panting and writhing.

“Experience and practice, darling,” he purred, adding to the marring of my throat with reckless abandon. My bruises had earned only a few looks of surprise, though nobody seemingly made the connection between my own marks and Tony’s – or if they did, they didn’t comment, at least.

I couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed, despite my relief.

And Tony, to his credit, hadn’t touched a drop all day; I murmured my pride as he found my climax, back arching against him as I groaned in pleasure.

I fell into an easy, exhausted sleep in his arms, thoroughly wrung out and without feeling in most of my muscles by the time darkness fell.

He, it seems, did not.

I woke to him twitching and whimpering behind me, and let out the beginning of a gentle purr before I stiffened.

Nope. Not that kind of dream.

I rolled quickly, cupping his cheek in my hand. “Tony? Sweetheart? Dearest? It’s okay; it’s just a bad dream. I’ve got you, honey…”

He whined through his teeth, face contorting in pain. “No… I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll do better… I-I can make you proud, I promise.”

I flinched as he spasmed, fingers finding his. “Tone. Come back to me, my love. It’s fine; you’re safe. I’m here, darling.”

His eyes snapped open, panic flaring as he scooted away. “Wh- I- No. What-?”

I held up my hands soothingly, gaze gentle. “It’s okay, hon. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare.”

He shimmied further back, quickly increasing the distance between us. “I- No. You shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here.”

Swallowing dryly, I offered him a reassuring smile. “It’s-”

“It’s not fucking okay,” he snapped, sliding from the sheets as he shook with residual fear and anxiety. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It… It’s so wrong. Disgusting.”

I flinched, sitting upright. “Tony, I…” He moved quickly as he headed to the kitchen, and I darted after him, heart hammering. “No, sweetheart – you’ve got this. You’ve been doing so well today; you can make it through this, I promise.”

“Get out.”

“Tony-”

“Leave!” he spat, turning to me with furious eyes as he unscrewed the top of his bottle of Jack. “Get out of here. Don’t come back. I… This… It never should have happened. It’s not… It’s wrong, Stephen. Please. Just go.”

He took a long, desperate swig, and I winced as I backed up. “I… Okay. I’ll go, Tone. Just… Please. Take care of yourself, okay? We… We didn’t do anything wrong, honey.”

“Just go. Please,” he replied softly, naked and quivering as he sunk to the floor, bottle clasped desperately in his fingers.

I’d never hated anyone quite as much as I hated myself as I stepped through my portal, one quiet, ragged sob echoing around me as it snapped closed.

[jasonscaramel]

i guess only the stars would know the truth - chapter three - jason todd x reader

series summary: you transfer into gotham university's journalism program. simultaneously, people are going missing in gotham at record rates. it's only a matter of time before your curiosity gets the best of you.

words: 3.4k

cross-posted on ao3 | series masterlist

In comparison to how early you usually are, you’re running really late.

The first few weeks had lulled you into a false sense of security, and now you’re floundering a little. It’s like your workload has picked up tenfold, so the adjustment period has gotten a little bit longer. You’re not behind, just struggling to keep equilibrium. It’ll pass, you know it will, but you still feel like the epitome of flustered as you speed walk the remaining distance to campus.

You thankfully are only a few minutes late to class, giving Tim a sympathetic smile as you settle in.

“You didn’t really miss anything. She’s about to explain the group project,” Tim whispers in your direction, and you lean in to whisper back.

“Right on time. Thanks.” He nods in reply, and your attention goes back to the professor.

So you sit, willing your beating heart to settle as you listen to the professor outline the parameters of the project. A pitch presentation, which is easy enough. Just a quick turnaround time. That does mean, however, that you’ll a) need a partner and b) need to work on this outside of class.

You’re thankful that you’ve befriended Tim because now you have a built-in partner. You wonder what he’ll suggest for working outside of class. There are plenty of spaces on campus to go, but you wouldn’t exactly have peace and quiet. You’re not exactly ready to offer up your apartment, either, so you’re not in the position to be picky.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tim slip you a piece of paper. You grab it and slide it closer.

Wanna work together?

You can’t help your grin as you write back a yes!

Tim slides the paper back over so he can scribble for a moment.

My place later ok?

You nod, and he takes that as confirmation enough and wads up the small scrap of paper. You both return to listening to the lecture.

//

“God can she talk,” you mumble under your breath as you exit the class, Tim trailing behind you. He laughs in agreement, dodging a few people walking in the opposite direction to lead the way.

“No kidding. Alright, follow me. Cars waiting.” He began walking through the sea of people before you could ask any more questions, so you did your best to keep up with him.

When you get to the carpool line, you wonder what kind of car you’re about to get into. What you’re not expecting is Tim to make a beeline for the nicest car in the entire parking lot that had a hired driver sitting in the front seat.

As you began the drive, you realized there was no walking to Tim’s house. It made for a pretty long drive from campus, tucked away from the city.

You also realized that “house” is a complete understatement.

As the car pulls up, you begin to understand why you’re in a goddamn town car. The place is giant; Tim is loaded. Like, more money than god loaded. You’re trying not to stare or let your jaw hang on the floor, but it feels a bit involuntary at this point. You don’t think you’ve ever seen so much wealth in one space. This place rivals the castles you’ve seen on television.

Thankfully, Tim seems to be understanding, giving you a small, tight-lipped smile as the car is put in park. You pause, waiting for Tim to make the first move. He throws open his door and you follow suit, hoping to whatever god out there that you don’t make a total fool of yourself once you go inside.

The thought doesn’t leave you as he opens the door to the… mansion. If you thought the outside was extravagant, the inside is ostentatious. As you follow Tim through the hallways, you note that any one piece of decor in this home would pay off your rent for a good two years.

This is nuts.

“We’re, uh, gonna work in the library. That cool with you?” Tim asks, stopping by a set of shut double doors. You nod, not trusting your voice, and haul open one of the doors. He leads you to a large table surrounded by even larger bookshelves, putting his stuff down before returning to the doors. He props one of them open as you settle in, pulling out your old Macbook to get started.

“You know…” Tim sounds hesitant, and you look up at him, urging him to finish. “It’s okay if this is all… strange to you. I didn’t exactly prep you beforehand.”

A large breath of air escapes you in a dramatic sigh. “Oh, thank fuck. Seriously, dude, I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything, I’ve just never been somewhere this… fancy.”

Tim chuckles, and you can’t help but join him. It doesn’t feel like he’s making fun of you; it feels like he understands where you’re coming from. “No, don’t worry. You’re not being an asshole. I kinda forget you’re new around here, that’s why I didn’t explain anything.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he’s about to say next.

“I, uh, was the same way when I got here. I’d never seen anything so… extravagant. It-”

“It’s kinda irritating, isn’t it?” Tim is cut off by another man’s voice, and your head whips up to find the source. An extremely tall, broad-shouldered, gorgeous man stands leaning on the doorway, a cheeky smile on his face. A scar frames his pretty face and striking green eyes, and as your eyes trail further you see long sleeves that cover most of his tanned skin. Jesus, what is in the water at this place? You can’t seem to find your voice, so Tim speaks for you.

“Jason, we’re doing a group project, can you—”

Jason, a cocky smile still plastered on his face, holds up his hands in surrender as he interrupts Tim. “Not here to bug you. Swear. Just came to grab something.” He disappears behind a bookshelf, reappearing only moments later with two books held in one of his pretty, giant hands.

Not like you’re staring, or anything.

“Good to meet you, by the way.” He walks over to the table, extending his free hand out to you. “I’m Jason.” You reach for his hand, shaking it and giving him your name in return. The smile on his face only brightens, your hands refusing to let go.

Tim clears his throat, and you’re both reminded that he is, in fact, in the room with you. You drop Jason’s hand as your face grows hot. If possible, his smile grows.

“See ya later.” Jason waves on his way out, and you secretly hope you run into him again before you leave.

It was hard to focus after that. Tim didn’t say anything further about Jason, so you didn’t ask. Even though you had lots of questions. Eventually, you were able to get into a groove, knocking out a good bit of your project before it got too late. You had another week to get it done, but it was nice to get a chunk of it out of the way ahead of time. Now that it was late, however, you were starving. And your stomach immediately ratted you out by growling obscenely loudly with no warning.

Tim laughs, closing his laptop and pushing it further away from him on the table. “Yeah, it’s probably a good time to call it quits. Let’s go see what Alfred’s cooking.”

You don’t question who Alfred is despite desperately wanting to; you just put your laptop in your bag, throw it over your shoulder, and follow Tim.

He again leads you through the winding hallways of his home, and the further you get, the more you can smell something absolutely delicious cooking in the kitchen.

“Alfred, I—oh.” Tim stops in the doorway of the kitchen, and you have to slam on the breaks behind him so you don’t run into his back. There at the stove stands Jason, stirring something in a ridiculously large steaming pot, something out of a restaurant kitchen. You wonder how many people they need to feed.

“He ran to the store, we’re out of paprika. I don’t know if your friend likes chicken and dumplings, but there’s plenty.”

They both look over at you, and you briefly panic at the attention. When you don’t speak, Tim does for you. “Or we could go to the diner. Your choice.”

“We can stay here. I haven’t had chicken and dumplings in years.”

A grin fights its way onto Jason’s face, and he motions for you to come closer. You slowly shuffle closer to the stove, Tim not far behind you.

“Yeah, this is your thing, right? Tim said you transferred in from down south. Mind stirring for me?”

You grab the wooden spoon from Jason, subtly trying to watch him as he walks over to the pantry. “I mean, cooking isn’t my thing. But southern food definitely is. The lack of gumbo up here is frightening.”

They both snort out a laugh, and you’re suddenly reminded that Tim is still here, sitting on the counter next to the industrial-sized pot you’re stirring. It smells divine—like your grandmother's cooking. Whoever this Alfred is—he’s already a 10 in your book.

“Maybe you could teach me how to make it,” Jason proposes, returning from the pantry with a can of Tony’s and a huge pepper grinder. He moves into your space, hip-bumping yours to urge you just a bit out of the way. You keep stirring as he seasons the food, attempting to gauge Tim’s reaction without him noticing.

Too bad when you look up, Tim’s already looking at you, a small smile on his face. You return it stiffly before refocusing on the task in front of you. You hope whatever’s going through his head is positive.

“Yeah,” you finally find your voice. “That’d be cool. You’re already halfway there, using Tony’s. My grandmother would be proud.” You snort at the idea, and Jason gives you a soft laugh.

“I had a good teacher. Alfred is the best cook I’ve ever met.”

“He’s right,” Tim finally buts in. “Jason might be a good cook, but Alfred taught him everything he knows.”

“All I heard was I’m a good cook. Thanks, Timmo.” The grin on Jason’s face is contagious, you can’t help but return it. Tim even smiles despite himself.

“That compliment doesn’t leave this room. In fact—”

“Alright, boys, if you're going to argue, please do so outside of my kitchen.” An older man cuts Tim off from the doorway, a large paper bag in his hands. You feel Jason move around you as he approaches the man, taking the bag from him and over to the pantry.

“We’re not arguing. Tim finally admitted I’m a good cook.”

“Only thanks to you, Alfred.” Tim admits as he watches Alfred approach you and the stove. “That’s my friend from marketing class,” Tim gives Alfred your name. “We were working on a group project.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I see they put you to work immediately after.” You share a chuckle, and he motions for you to hand over the wooden spoon. You do it easily, and he gives you another warm smile and nods. “You’re free to go.” He jokes.

“It’s all good—I didn't mind.” You say.

Alfred, seemingly holding back a smile, says, “Then why don’t I put you all to work and get you to set the table?”

You follow Tim and Jason into the dining room, but they refuse to let you do any of the work setting the table. The dining room, just like the other rooms you’d seen here, was large and incredibly ornate. A crystal chandelier, a large wooden table that looked big enough for a small army, and more chairs around it than three times your average dining table.

Another thing about a house this big is that sound tends to carry. That’s why you jumped when you heard the front door slam shut. You hear Alfred greet someone, and then footsteps heading for the dining room. When you look over, you see two women standing in the doorway, smiles on their faces.

“Alfred says foods ready. Oh! Tim’s friend!” The blonde makes her way over to you, throwing her arms around you in a hug. “Hi. I’m Steph.” She pulls away to motion at the woman she came in with. “That’s my girlfriend, Meg.”

“Hi. Nice to finally meet you.” Meg says, and the confusion on your face must be evident because she laughed before continuing. “Steph and I have weekly double dates with Tim and Bernard. They tell us everything.”

“Its true. Baby, wait.” Steph says and races to pull out a chair at the table for her girlfriend before sitting beside her. “Nothing but good things about you though. Journalism, right?”

You nod before scanning the table, trying to figure out where to sit. Jason, standing behind one of the chairs, taps on the table at the spot between him and Tim and across from Steph. With the weight of that off your shoulders, you move around the table and answer. “Yeah, it’s a great program. It also seems like I’m in the right city, considering all the stuff that goes down here.”

You sit down and watch as Tim and Jason sit next to you in unison. The latter snorts. “No fucking kidding. It seems like every time I turn on the news shit gets worse.” Jason says, adjusting in his chair.

“You’re not lying.” Meg pipes up. “There’s been I think fourteen disappearances in the span of… what? Two months? I’m not an expert, but that seems like a lot.”

The group murmurs in agreement but no one really knows what to say at that, because she’s right. It’s definitely weird. The lull in conversation is quickly broken by Alfred bustling into the dining room, Dick, and a younger boy in tow.

You’re introduced to the younger boy, Damian, as dinner is served, and find yourself observing the meaningful chaos around you. He doesn’t speak much, but you can’t blame him. There are a few empty seats, and you have a feeling that someone usually fills them, but no one seems upset. Just content at the company they do have.

Jason keeps asking you questions. Whispers, barely discernable even to your own ears. Asking whether or not you like the food, if all of this is too much for you. Despite his rough, cocky exterior, he seems like a genuinely kind soul. You hope you get to see more of him in the future; something about him makes you want more.

//

After saying your goodbyes to the majority of the group after a long, delicious dinner, it’s just you, Tim, and Jason heading toward the front door.

“I’m gonna go pull the car up.” Tim says, ducking out the front door and shutting it behind him. You watch him go before Jason speaks, commanding your attention.

“Could I, uh—could I get your number?” Despite how big and scary Jason might seem at first glance, you wonder how anyone could ever think that after getting to know him. You’ve only known him for the one evening, but you already feel like you can trust him. There’s something about him that seems magnetizing; his energy is safe, comforting, and inviting. How could you refuse him?

“Yeah. Of course.” You can’t help your grin when he hands you his phone and lets you type in your number. “Text me anytime. I’m never off my phone longer than… well, maybe a lecture.”

It’s his turn to grin as he pockets his phone. “Where there’s a will there’s a way, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flutters, and you wonder when the last time you had butterflies was. High school? Ever? Not like this.

“Oh, there’s a will, so…” You trail off when you hear Tim honk outside. “Later, Jason.”

“See ya, sweetheart.”

You rush to the car, face warm with excitement, desperate to outrun the sudden rain even if it isn’t possible. Thankfully Tim doesn’t seem to mind when you sit in the passenger seat soaked from the rain.

“Where to?” He asks, and at first, you freeze. You’ve seen where he lives, it’s only… well maybe fair isn’t necessarily the right word. But it feels like you can safely give up your bit of information now that you know his.

Only, the issue is, your place is decidedly not anything like his. And it’s not a bad thing, as your place is pretty damn good for the price, but it’s definitely something you’re beginning to worry about. It’s Tim, though. He’s been very kind to you since the beginning, and there’s no evidence that he’d use this as an excuse to be an asshole. So, you give him your address.

“Oh, cool. Roy lives there. I’ll have to introduce you sometime.” Your nerves settle; you’re so grateful to have met this guy. He puts the car in drive, windshield wipers on full blast as he drives you through the city. It’s a peaceful drive, most of the traffic having already died down by now. You sit in a comfortable silence, occasionally answering whatever questions or comments Tim throws your way.

He drops you off at the front door with a goodbye and a wave, promising to text you when he gets home. As you make your way up and into the stairs to your apartment, you feel your phone buzz. You grab your laptop and plop onto your couch before reading the message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, it’s Jason. You make it home okay?

You: Sure did! It was really nice meeting u btw

As you wait for him to respond, you save his number on your phone. Loading up your laptop, your mind goes back to what Meg said earlier at dinner. Fourteen people in two months. That’s definitely not normal, even by Gotham’s standards. What the hell is going on here?

When it comes to research, you’ve always found the starting point to be the most difficult. Where do you begin? What do you start with? You figure you need to start somewhere. As you search Gotham missing persons in Google, your phone vibrates.

Jason: I really enjoyed meeting you too. You should come back to the manor soon.

You: Well Tim and I still have that project soooo…

Jason: Perfect.

You: :) Goodnight. Hope u sleep well

Jason: Night, sweetheart. Hope you do too.

And suddenly, the feeling of butterflies returns. You wonder if this is just his personality or if he’s just baseline flirty. You really hope not, you’re not sure your heart can take it. Something about him just makes you want to know more. You’re not sure if it’s the fact that he seems to be a caring, nice, intelligent guy, or if it’s the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous. Neither hurts, you’re sure about that.

Before you hit the hay, you’re determined to save a few good articles to begin your research tomorrow. Your professor canceled this Tuesday’s class a week prior, so despite your workload, you’ll have enough time to work on a personal project.

You save a few links into a Word document before adding Gotham Gazette into the search bar. Maybe, if Dick ever came through with that contact, you could ask her to point you in a better direction.

After saving a few seemingly interesting sources, you shut your computer with a yawn. Before moving here, you could stay up until two a.m. no questions asked. Now, you’re lucky to get past 11. You blame all the walking; your hometown was definitely not walkable.

You pour yourself a glass of water from the filtered pitcher in the fridge before moving to your bedroom to put it on your side table. Heading into your bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror before willing yourself to do an abridged version of your nighttime routine. After piling into bed, you heave a deep sigh.

You feel good. Now on the outside, thanks to skincare, but mostly on the inside. Something about being around everyone tonight made you feel welcomed in a way you haven’t since you arrived in Gotham. It had been a rocky (almost) month, but you finally feel like you’ve carved a place out here.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Over The Rainbow (3/4) - Virgil

<- Previous | Next ->

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Notes:

Virgil makes an appearance!! Sorry this one took me so long - I genuinely just kept forgetting to post it like an idiot, lol. Hope you enjoy regardless <3 TW for ableism in this chapter.

----

“Alright actors! Gather up here before we begin warmups today,” Their director called out as the last person arrived in the theatre, “Tech, head backstage - you’ll just be continuing what you were doing last week - actors, yes, I have role assignments for everyone!”

A cheer went through the small crowd of collage students assembled, Roman included. He’d tried pretty hard on his audition! Patton and Logan had both helped him perfect it and everything!

“I’ll leave the sheet here for you all to look at and scripts for you to collect. Once you’ve gotten your role and your script I’d like you to spend this session going through the script and marking your cues, thank you.”

Roman was one of the first people to get to the front and check for his name. When he found it he groaned. 

“I’m the lion ?” Roman sighed, “The cowardly lion ??”

“At least you're not the tin man, babe,” Remy said, mockingly patting Roman on the back with his coffee cup. Roman rolled his eyes and moved over to grab a script. Oh well, it was a little disappointing, maybe he was a little disheartened by his role in their production of The Wizard of Oz, but… it would have to do. 

Roman found a quiet spot near the wings on the stage and sat down, beginning to look through his script and mark out his lines with his red gel pen as instructed. It was about ten minutes into the task that Roman began to hear the strains of an argument from the wings. 

“We needed the orange fur, not the green,” Someone snapped.

“Well you should’ve sent someone else then,” Someone else snapped back immediately, “Considering I can’t see either of those colours.”

“Or maybe you’re just being difficult!” The first person said, voice getting just a little louder, “Since you say you can’t do literally every task I give you! It’s like you just don’t want to fucking help at all!”

“Dude it’s not my fault I have a lot of soulmates,” The second person tried to defend, “And you keep giving me colour related tasks! Not to mention I’m literally disabled - I can’t do certain things, dude.”

“What so it’s my fault then?” The first person snapped, “We wouldn’t have this problem if you could just do it right.”

Roman frowned, how rude, he thought, people can't help their soulmate colours or their disabilities!

“I- I’m not saying it’s your fault ,” The second person said, sounding uneasy, “I’m just saying it’s not mine either.”

“Oh no, totally not your fault that you’re incompetent and lazy,” The first said and Roman nearly growled. Who the fuck thought it was okay to talk to someone like that? He stood up, glancing at the director and upon finding that she wasn’t looking hurried off the stage to find whoever was having this argument.

—

“Excuse me,” Roman said - it certainly wasn't hard to find them, considering the argument had evolved into whisper-yelling and finger pointing, a heap of green faux-fur piled between them. Both of them looked up at him and Roman almost immediately felt as though he’d been slapped across the face.

Violet eyes .

Man, Roman really hoped the one with purple eyes wasn’t the one who’d been being a dick. 

“Hey - uh, Roman, right? You’re an actor, did you need something?” Said the other person and Roman breathed a sigh of relief, thank god his soulmate wasn’t the asshole. 

“I heard arguing, I just wanted to see what was going on, is everything okay?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow. Purple looked embarrassed as they leant on their cane, while the other bulked. 

“Nothing major , just Virgil failing to do what I ask again .”

“I couldn’t see the goddamn colour!” ‘Virgil’ yelled, kicking the fur on the ground and storming off, Roman sighed. 

He looked back up at the asshole, raising an eyebrow, “People can’t control what colours they can see, y’know.”

“He’s lying to get out of doing the work, no-one has yellow as a colour, nor orange,” The guy rolled his eyes, “You know how those people are.”

“Those people?” Roman repeated, frowning, “No, I don’t think I do, do you care to explain?”

“I mean, you know how lazy they can be?”

“Who?”

“ You know- come on man, don’t make me say it.” Asshole sighed. 

Roman raised an eyebrow, “I mean, maybe re-evalute your opinions if you can’t even say them out loud, maybe think about whether that's an okay mindset to have? And for the record, yeah, people can have orange as a soulmate colour.”

Without waiting for a response, Roman huffed and walked away after Virgil. Eventually Roman found them sitting in the costume closet, hunched over and tugging at their curly white hair. Roman took a deep breath and knocked on the open door before walking in.

“Hey, are you okay?” Roman asked, they looked up with a worried look in their eyes.

“I’m fine ,” They huffed, glaring at him before looking away, “I don’t need you to save me or whatever this is.”

Roman huffed in pure confusion for a second - what did that even mean? “I’m not- I wanted to make sure you were alright since you left and he was being a total dipshit? I also wanted to, y’know, say hi, since apparently we’re soulmates?”

“Yeah, I figured,” Virgil said, glaring at him. 

“Did you dye your hair yourself?” Roman asked, regardless of their clearly hostile attitude. Their hair was mostly white, but the ends were dyed a pastel purple.

“I- yeah,” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow at him, “Why?”

“Uh- I think it looks cool?” Roman tried, “I did mine too.”

“Nice,” Virgil huffed, “...thanks, by the way, he is a dick.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe,” Roman rolled his eyes, “I’m guessing that’s not the first time?”

“Nope,” Virgil said, popping the ‘p’.

Roman frowned, going over to sit down next to Virgil - far enough away that they weren’t touching, “Have you reported it?”

“Why bother when they’re not going to do anything about it?” Virgil asked, before huffing when Roman raised a confused eyebrow, “They never do. ”

“I’ll report it,” Roman said, “And I’ll make them do something about it, I can be quite stubborn, you know.”

Rolling their eyes, Virgil stood up again and went to leave before Roman jumped up to stop them, “Wait! We’re soulmates, right?”

“Well yeah,” Virgil glared at him.

“I’m guessing you don’t know any of the others?”

“No, I haven’t met anyone else, where is this going?” Virgil stuffed their hand in their pocket, “I need to get back to what I’m supposed to be doing before Toby has another tantrum.”

Roman sighed, “I know some of the others, Green and Blue, I wanted to give you my number so… maybe we can chat? No pressure or anything, just, I wondered.”

Groaning, Virgil pulled out his phone, fiddling with it for a few seconds before handing it to Roman, “There, put your number in, on the condition that you buy me coffee after theatre.”

“Can do!” Roman said, grinning as he typed his number into the box and handed the phone back, “I’m gonna go talk to the director now.”

“I’m not gonna be able to persuade you to leave it, am I?”

“Nope, unless you want my brother to come down here and probably murder him,” Roman shrugged, Virgil looked alarmed for a second, before sighing and shaking their head. 

—

“You found Purple?” Patton gasped, leaning into Logan’s side as he worked on some project. The three of them were sitting on Logan’s double bed, because he was lucky enough to have a private dorm room, “Why’d you not introduce us?”

“They seem really shy,” Roman sighed, “And super standoffish, I don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“That is very considerate,” Logan told him, “And surprising, considering how excited you and Patton seem to get about almost everything.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “ Yeah I’m excited! That’s why I came here to gush about them instead of dragging them over to meet both of you at once and possibly put them off of all of us forever!”

Shrugging, Logan turned back to his work, “Fair enough.”

“Oh oh! Tell me about them!” Patton gasped, flopping onto their front so that they could look up at Roman with wide eyes, cupping their chin in their hands as they waited. Roman chuckled.

“Well… they’re tall, with hair and skin as white as snow! Their hair falls in waves and fades into a lovely lilac at the ends!” Roman said - trying to put as much poetic emphasis on the words as he could - gestures included - before giggling, “Apparently they dyed it themself - um, they like sweet coffee - they ordered a caramel macchiato with extra cream after theater, they dress mostly in black, their style seems very interesting - an even mix of emo and scene…”

Roman kept talking, repeating just about everything he had learned about their fourth soulmate from the conversation they’d had over coffee after theatre. By the time he was done, Patton seemed entirely enamoured.

“What’s purple like?” Patton asked once Roman had finished talking.

“Roman just told us all about them, were you not listening?” Logan frowned, tilting his head. 

“No no! I mean, purple, the actual colour!” Patton corrected, “What’s the colour look like?”

“Oh, well it’s kinda like, blue, but if you put pink in it.” Roman shrugged, “So kinda a warmer blue.”

“Cool!” Patton grinned, before sighing dreamily, “I can’t wait to see it, and them, oh Roman when can we meet them?”

“I was actually thinking…” Roman said, frowning at his phone, “I’ll ask them too, but I was wondering if maybe it would be better to add them to our groupchat first before we all met? So they get a chance to get used to you guys?”

Patton gasped, eyes brightening, “That’s a wonderful idea!”

—

It was two weeks of near constant texting and the occasional phone call before Virgil finally told them they were comfortable meeting everyone in person. Patton had been overjoyed, barely able to sit still as Roman told them both that they’d be meeting Virgil at a cafe after the rehearsal that day. 

Logan had smiled - properly - and told them he was looking forward to it, Patton had practically pulled the both of them into a hug and squeezed them tightly until Roman could barely breathe.

—

Later on, Roman managed to persuade Virgil to come with him to meet their other soulmates, and the plan was in motion. 

“So… um… what should I expect?” Virgil asked as they walked beside Roman, one hand stuffed in their jacket pocket and the other gripping tightly to their cane. 

“Well - Patton will probably want to hug you,” Roman chuckled, “Which you can definitely say no to - they’ll ask.”

Virgil seemed to relax minutely as Roman said that, he sighed.

“You can leave at any point,” Roman reassured, “You don’t have to stick around if you’re overwhelmed.”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil pushed their tinted glasses up their nose, “Yeah yeah, you’ve only told me two hundred times, I’ll be fine.”

“Cool, cool, right,” Roman chuckles, “Sorry.”

“You seem nervous , Princey,” Virgil smirked at him, Roman scoffed.

“Nervous? Me? Never! I don’t know such a thing!” he protested, Virgil laughed.

“Yeah yeah, you’re very brave, it’s okay,” Virgil patted him on his arm as they walked into the cafe, Roman rolled his eyes even as he held the door open. Virgil laughed, walking in before stopping in his tracks as his breath hitched and his eyes widened. 

“Woah,” Virgil whispered, “so much colour - this cafe is blue ?”

Roman chuckled, “Mhm!”

“Hey!” Patton called, waving widely from across the cafe, “Come on! Come sit! Hi!”

“Come on,” Roman said to Virgil, leading the way through the crowd over to the table in the back where Patton and Logan already sat with both Roman and Virgil’s coffee orders already on the table along with their own. Patton was so far out of their seat with excitement that they were almost standing whilst Logan was quietly telling them to calm down.

“Hello,” Virgil said as he sat down in the nearest chair, placing their cane to lean on the table, “Um, nice to properly meet you guys?”

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

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[mr-and-mr-diaz]

so i’ve been thinking about it for an additional five minutes and here’s what i’ve got and its kinda blowing my mind. Each person in buck’s life either had a Moment with him either in the coma dream or at his real life bedside, with a few noted exceptions. I’ll explain:

Chimney: coma dream, and MY GOD did they make good use of him here. As the guy who is always first to believe in The Crazy he was PERFECT to be the guy who’s like “yeah alright, one ticket to the crazy train.” I’m sorry but Buck proving that he knew him by knowing why he’s called Chimney had me lollling

Hen: Sceptic. And in the coma dream as the milder voice of reason. Funny, and good at keeping things moving. She and Chimney were also great to have in imaginary land since they are the ones who are the most stable without Buck in their lives, likely because of how much they stabilize each other

Maddie: In the coma dream and IRL, but coma!Maddie is essentially Maddie from season 2. Literally heart breaking. Speaking of, my heart is still not over the way she saw the firefighter at the door and simply said “which one”

Athena and May: Buck’s (let’s face it) step-mom and by association, step sister. They’re in real life because without Bobby there, they don’t ever have much to do with him. They understand clear as day that Buck is Bobby’s other son, and they accepted it ages ago, to the point they find it amusing every step Bobby takes to realize it himself. (Back to Bobby in a moment.)

Eddie and Christopher: They’re of course in IRL because without Buck intervening as he does they wouldn’t have a place in his life or in each other lives (pause so i can SCREEEEEEEEEAM about this) In real life, they’re begging him to come back--or more accurately, Chris is, while Eddie stands silently behind him, barely able to see Buck and crying his eyes out. I think when Eddie wasn’t initially fighting for Chris to see Buck all Hospitalled Up, as it were, is because Eddie didn’t think Chris could handle it. The real truth of the matter is Eddie couldn’t handle it. We saw it ourselves--Chris was shaken, but able to pull himself together enough to say his piece and beg Buck to come back into their lives (insert couch metaphor here, y’all make it fit). Eddie could barely look at the bed, and when he did, his eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t speak. Eddie in the coma dream exists, is mentioned, but he’s lost in his anger, doesn’t have his life-lines to reach out for, is missing the man who has his back, and because of that lost everything. These two men truly are unanchored without each other, and without their son (yeah I said it, sue me), are missing a key element that makes their family a family.

Now Bobby. Bobby is the most notable one who is both there irl and in Buck’s coma dream. The man who entered his second marriage with a son he didn’t fully realize he had, though now he’s definitely realized it. The man who is dead without Buck in his life. Who stayed alive because one pesky kid had the gall to work his pesky way under Bobby’s skin and stressed him out enough to look after him and care and not stop caring until he had a whole goddamn family in his hands, both with Athena and at the 118. I’m still struggling to fully feel all the feels here and btw I think we need to take a moment to give MAD PROPS to Peter Krause for his turn as dead addict Bobby because he was fantastic.

It’s interesting, because for some reason in my head, I expected Buck’s coma dream to actually be really pleasant and happy and the lesson he learns is that life is hard but you gotta do it anyway and you’ll be rewarded for hard work. The coma dream was very different--twisted and, for all that Buck was in it, it was missing him like an open wound. I didn’t realize it right away, but Coma Buck is the Buck that’s born for parts, the Evan Buckley that Buck sees himself as in his own head. 

It’s the Buck that can’t help but reach out to help, that desperately tries over and over again to be the support that he himself is desperate for, that has irrevocably changed lives, with his worn heart out on his sleeve, collecting people that care about it without him really realizing, and in return making them care more about themselves, that makes Buck truly who he is, and makes his actual reality what it is. And that’s goddamn beautiful.

Please add your thoughts to this, my brain is still expanding

@loveyourownsmiilee @blutterlie @matan4il

[justcallmefox89]

Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia - Chapter Twenty-Four

An AU of The Royal Romance with a male MC and a bisexual prince.

Masterlist

Drake starts to move on without Liam.

“You sure you’re ok with this, Brat?” I ask, dropping our bags onto the floor of the hotel room.  Given the ridiculously high tension between me and Liam I’d opted to stay here instead of at the palace, and in a surprising move of solidarity, Drake had opted to join me. 

He huffs and rolls his eyes, turning away from me.  “I’m not going to fall apart without Liam.”

“Hey.”  I hook my index finger through one of the belt loops on his jeans and tug him towards me.  I run the tip of my nose against his cheek, and he shivers slightly as my breath ghosts over his skin.  “I didn’t say you would.  But this is uncharted territory for all of us… I want to know that you’re ok.”

Drake sighs, leaning his forehead against my shoulder.  “It’s weird.  I never imagined a point in time where Liam wouldn’t be in my life, but now that probability is staring me in the face and it’s not as terrifying as I thought it would be.  I’m happy with you… and for once I’m finally about to focus on my future without worrying about what I’ll have to hide or the things I won’t be able to have because of Liam.”

“I just don’t want you to have any regrets,” I whisper, a tiny shard of doubt creeping into my mind.

Drake kisses me softly.  “I could never regret you,” he murmurs.

“Hm.”  I hold him a little tighter, nervous energy thrumming through me.

Drake pulls away slightly and peers up at me.  “You wanna get out of here?  I have something I want to show you.”

“Oh?”  I arch one eyebrow in interest.  “What is it?”

“You’ll see.  Give me an hour to get everything ready.”

**** TWO HOURS LATER ****

“I want to go back to the hotel.”  I scowl over at Drake as our hired car pulls up to the security gates surrounding the palace.

“So cranky,” Drake mumbles, kissing my neck.  “I want to show you something on the grounds; we won’t see anyone else.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says, nipping at earlobe, laughing in satisfaction when I shudder at the sensation.

“Fiiiiine,” I pout, exiting the car. 

Drake retrieves two hiking backpacks from the trunk of the car and tips the driver before thrusting one of the backpacks into my hands with a smile.

I stare down at the pack in my hands, baffled.  “What is this?”

Drake grins.  “We’re going on a hike.”

“But why?”

“It’s part of the something I want to show you.  Besides, you could use some time in the great outdoors.  Fresh air is good for you.”

I have my doubts.

“But there are so many outside things in the outdoors.” 

Drake steps a little closer, his fingers toying with the hem of my t-shirt.  “Please, Callum?  For me?”

I groan, unable to withstand the power of the soft voice/puppy dog eyes combination.  “The things I do for you, Brat.”

Drake grins.  “Thank you,” he murmurs, popping up on his toes and pressing a warm kiss to my lips.  He steps away from me and slings the backpack onto his shoulders.  “Let’s go!”

I hoist my own backpacks onto my shoulders with a grunt and begin tromping after him.

****MUCH, MUCH LATER****

“We almost there, Brat?” I call out to Drake, who is several feet ahead of me, perfectly at home among the numerous trees and insects surrounding us.  Meanwhile I’m convinced I’ve entered my own personal hell and reconsidering my attraction to the man in front of me.

“We’re nearly there!”  He looks back over his shoulder and flashes me a brilliant smile.

Goddamn it.  How am I supposed to stay annoyed with him when he smiles like that?

A few minutes later there is a break in the trees and we step out into an open clearing, where a small lake shimmers in the afternoon sunlight.

Drake takes my hands and eagerly leads me to the lake shore.  “It’s beautiful, right?” he asks, smiling at me.

“It’s pretty,” I agree quietly.  “Do you come here a lot?”

His smile momentarily falters.  “I came here a lot with my dad when I was younger.  This is where he taught me to fish.  After he died it was just… too hard to come back.”

I glance over at him in surprise.  “Are you good to be back here?”

“Yeah.”  He nods slowly.  “It’s easier, with you here.  And I wanted to share a little bit of my past with you.  This place is important to me… and so are you.  It just seemed right to bring you here.”

I pull Drake into a hug, resting my chin on the top of his head.  “I love you,” I whisper.

“Love you too,” he mumbles into my chest.  We hold each other for a few more moments before Drake gently pushes me away with a mischievous smirk.

“What are you doing?” I ask, as he slowly strips off his shirt.  I dig my teeth into my lower lip, transfixed by the sight of his sculpted stomach and the trail of dark hair that dips below the waistband of his jeans.

“Going swimming.”  He pops the button on his jeans, grinning as I groan softly.

A stray thought manages to break through even as all the blood in my brain rushes to my dick.  “Wait, what?  Swimming?  In there?” I ask, pointing toward the lake.

“…yes?”  Drake frowns at me. 

I stare at the lake, unable to stop my lips curling back in disdain.  As a born and bred New Yorker I’ve never met water that wasn’t better after being properly treated and filtered. 

I shake my head.  “No.  Nope.”

“Why?”

“That’s wild water, Drake!  Fish fuck in there!”

Drake blinks, then lets out an honest to God giggle.  “That’s not…  You’ll be fine.”

I cross my arms over my chest and plant my feet firmly in the dirt.  “No.”

Drake comes closer, snaking his hands under my shirt and splaying his hands over my stomach.  “Come on, it will be fun.”

I glance over my shoulder at the rippling blue water that I just know is teeming with flesh-eating bacteria and fish sperm.  I shudder.  “No.”

“Seriously, Callum?”  Drake frowns at me.  “Get in the water.”

I shake my head again.  “Can’t make me.”

Drake’s lips curl up into a smirk.  “No?”

“Negative, Ghostrider.” 

He shrugs.  “You brought this on yourself.”

Before I can ask what he means Drake bends his knees, places his hands on my chest, and shoves. 

“What the -”  Caught off balance I go flying backwards, my arms windmilling as I try to regain my footing.  One more slight push from Drake and I go tumbling into the water.

Oh he is so getting a spanking for this.

I break the surface of the water sputtering and cursing, and wipe the water from my eyes just in time to see Drake laughing his ass off safely on shore. 

“I told you you’d be fine,” he calls out once he’s collected himself.

I grimly start sloshing my way towards shore, trying to avoid thinking about how many disgusting microorganisms I’ve been exposed to.  “You better start running, Brat.”

Drake’s smile instantly falls.  “What?”

By now I’m within five feet of him.  “Run.”

He takes off into a dead sprint.  “It was a joke!” he shouts.  “I love you!”

I charge after him, laughing.  I catch up to him quickly, snatching him by the back of his shirt and tugging him towards me, before crouching and tossing him over my shoulder with a grunt. 

“Hey!  Stop!  What are you doing?” Drake yells, trying to wriggle free.

I give him a sharp smack on the ass.  “Hold still, Brat.”

He instantly falls still, and his rapidly hardening dick pokes into my shoulder, revealing just how much he’s enjoying my rougher treatment.  I quickly reach the edge of the water and toss him in, before wading in behind him.  He pops out of the water with a sheepish smile, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

I smirk, enjoying the way his wet t-shirt clings to his chest.  “Now we’re even.”

Drake swims towards me and I pull him into my arms.  He loops his arms around my neck and locks his legs around my hips, and brushes the tip of his nose against mine.

“Hey,” I whisper, grabbing his hips to hold him closer to me.  “Gross water aside, I’m really glad you brought me here.”

Drake’s eyes light up and he gives me a shy smile.  “Yeah?”

“Of course.  I love you.  I wanna know everything about you.”

Drake tucks his head under my chin.  “Really?”

“Really.  Sometimes I want to crack open your chest, crawl inside you, and walk around wearing you like a Drake suit - that’s how much I love you.”

Drake freezes in my arms.

“Too far?” I ask.

He snorts and shakes his head.  “You’re so fucking weird.”

“You love it.”  I poke him in the ribs, making him laugh.

“I have no idea why, but I really do.”

[fleursbending]

hiii i just got back from my pinkpantheress concert only to see i've reached over 100 followers !

thank you so much guys 😭💌, i'm really grateful my writing has received sm love. the avatar community is such a nice place :3 .

for 100 followers i am doing a special writing event ! how it will work is i have a list of dialogue prompts and all you have to do is the following:

(REQUESTS ARE NOW CLOSED)

✿ send the number of which specific prompt you would like through my requests with the following info..

✿ the character you want, oc or reader, gn or fem, platonic or romantic.

✿ specific genre: e.g: hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff. (you can choose a maximum of 3 genres! the choices are endless!)

✿ these are the characters you can choose from: neteyam sully, lo'ak, jake, neytiri, kiri, ao'nung, tsireya. the following characters are strictly platonic: tuktirey, ronal, tonowari.

✿ you can pick multiple characters to be included in a request. e.g : sully family x sully!reader.

✿ i will pick the length, aka if it is just a drabble or a full-fledged fic ! just pls be descriptive as you can with your request :3 or if u want i can just make it a surprise for u LOL.

✿ requests can be denied if they go against my boundaries and guidelines. so read those first.

✿ first come, first serve! this will only go on for a limited amount of time, depending on how well this is received.

here is your list of dialogue prompts to choose from:

“You’ll pay. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

"Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you."

"I’ve been falling in love with you since the day we met."

"You really think I won't choose you in a heartbeat?"

"Would you acknowledge my feelings for you if I kissed you right now? You can't seem to take a damn hint, [name]."

"If I'm causing you so much trouble, why won't you kill me?"

"Be brave for me, love."

"Can I cross your boundaries just for the night?"

“You’re a dumbass and I can’t believe I’m related to you.”

“So what? you’re still my [name], idiot. I don’t care about what they say!”

“You are a menace and you almost died back there if it wasn’t for me.”

“This—” [points at their chest] “—this belongs to you. always.”

"How long have you been hiding this?"

"You moron... Why are you so careless!?"

"I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this!"

"Never do that again. Please."

"...Who did this to you?" || "Let it go (Name), it doesn't matter-" || "Yes, it does. Who did this to you?"

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“You did all of this for me?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“Let me do this, please.”

"You were put on this earth to give me a headache!"

"What? I have never-"

"In my defense, I really wanted to."

"I don't hate you."

“Did I stutter?”

“This sounds like you’re flirting with me.”

“H-How long have you been standing there?”

“There is no way this much stupid can fit inside one person.”

“Could he make you feel as good as I do?”

"This isn’t adrenaline, I want to spend my life with you.”

“Just to clarify: me holding your hand doesn’t, like, mean anything, by the way. Not in that way, at least. Unless you want it to mean something. I don’t mind. That’s cool.”

"You're an idiot."

“Don’t cover your face, I want to see you”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that!”

“I don’t know what to do.” || “Then let me teach you.”

“If you interrupt me one more time— so help me God.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“We were friends! why did that have to change?”

“I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

"It feels like torture, but I don't want it to stop."

"I may have gone and done something slightly insane."

"If you lay a goddamn hand on them, I promise you'll regret it."

"I'll give you whatever you want, just- just stop!"

“Everything I’ve ever known has led up to you.”

"Just take my hand and relax, nothing bad is gonna happen."

"You taught me that love doesn't make us weak, it makes us stronger."

"Seeing you here felt a lot more like coming home than when I actually got here."

credits to the following for these prompts: @casualwriter @clovenly @urfriendlywriter @dumplingsjinson @promptplanetblr @mangocherri @writinginstardust @a-crumb-of-whump @honey-writes @mswritingthings 🎀🎀 ty talented ppl !!!

✿ if you have any questions, feel free to comment and ask! ok, gn! it's 1am for me💀.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑