#okay i'm going to try to go back studying now

[lananiscorner]

Eh... this is not so much a "neurotypical" problem as it is a "general conflict management and de-escalation" problem, and it can have multiple reasons. Let's just say person A says person B did something wrong, B wants an explanation and A refuses to give one. This can be for any one of the following reasons:

A is used to good faith attempts at clarifying being met with bad faith/abusive/manipulative attempts to pick their logic apart and/or gaslight them by feigning ignorance/incompetence, and so has taken up a policy of "do not engage". This can be a generally good and healthy approach in many situations (e.g. someone hits on you at a bar, you tell them you're not interested, they ask you why not, you say they're not your type, they ask what exactly makes them not your type, etc. You are now already 2 levels deeper into this conversation than you ever wanted to be and feeling more gang-pressed into giving information, which is triggering your fight or flight instincts).

A is using this withholding of information as a means of emotional manipulation themselves, to keep B from properly articulating their own point/needs/wants/boundaries.

A doesn't quite understand the reasoning for why B is wrong themselves. This is common with social norms and behaviors, which are ingrained in most people at an age when they are too young to reason their way through them. Somebody in the notes mentioned the example of unspoken, nitty-gritty grammar rules, like how you would say "the big red truck" but not "the red big truck" and how to a non-native speaker this rule doesn't make sense. Sometimes the answer really is just "because" and nobody likes being grilled for information that they themselves don't have. It feels like being interrogated rather than having a conversation.

People who are good at something generally underestimate the knowledge/skill base of people who are not good at it. Y'all know that meme where the two scientists go "we have to be careful, most people probably only know X and maybe a bit of Y", where X and Y are things that nobody outside that field of study would know? This is the same thing. Sometimes people genuinely don't understand how specific you need them to be. Easy example: I grew in a culture that values punctuality. You show up to everything ideally 5-10 minutes before it starts. But I have one friend who absolutely hated that, who was constantly stressed out if I arrived at her place 5 minutes early, and I genuinely did not understand why this was such a problem for her and why she couldn't just prep for guests earlier (we had both grown up in this culture), until she explained to me in great detail how her mind would just use that extra time to find increasingly minute, procrastinating details to hyper focus on and lose track of time, giving me a few examples of such issues. That last bit was what was needed to make my brain go "oh, that's why, ok, I'll try to show up *shudders* 10 minutes late in the future".

They are low on spoons and don't have the time/energy needed to get into a longer conversation. This gets progressively worse the more introverted a person is.

Scenario 1, 3 and 4 are generally resolved fairly easily by being very upfront, but calm about it: "A, I like you and I want to do right by you, but I really, genuinely mean it when I say that I don't know what I did wrong. My brain is currently desperately trying to trace back every step that has happened and to find out what went wrong, and it can't, so clearly I'm missing some steps. Please explain it to me like you would explain it to some space alien that has just been dropped on Earth and has never been in situation X before, so I can do better next time."

At this point, if it's scenario 5 (no time/energy), Person A will usually say so (sometimes rudely, depending on how close they are to what Captain Awkward lovingly calls the Bitch Eating Crackers level of mental spoons exhaustion). This is a good point to ask " Okay, I understand. I'll ask some other time, when you have more time/energy if that's okay with you."

And if the answer you get then is some variation of "no it's fucking not, we're done talking about this ever", then you know that, at the very least, this person does not consider you important/worthwhile enough to set aside two minutes of their time to help you understand something, even when they have the time/energy.

And if you keep on running into this with the same person multiple times, then I'm sorry to say, it's likely scenario 2.

[urfavleo777]

warnings: smut, oral (f&m), language, fingering

Luigi helps his girlfriend relieve stress after a long day at college

You stumble into Luigi's dorm, your body heavy with the weight of the day. Uni is a nightmare, and you feel the tears threatening to spill any second. Your mind races, emotions all over the place. You just need to be somewhere safe.

Luigi is already sitting on his bed, flipping through a book, but when he sees your face, he immediately sets it aside. "Hey… what’s going on?" he asks, his voice soft with concern.

You don’t say anything at first, just wrap your arms around him tightly as if you're afraid to let go. You bury your face in his chest, your breath shaky as you fight back the tears. "I spend hours on studying and poring over books, but the next day I forget half of it. I’m so dumb.”

He sighs softly, his hands gently rub your back, pulling you closer. “What did I tell you about saying things like that?”

“To not to.” you mumble.

He laughs softly, “Well, yes. But it’s because you’re too hard on yourself. You were just explaining all of this to me yesterday.”

You cling to him a little tighter, trying to steady your breath. The warmth of his embrace is grounding, but the storm inside your head refuses to calm. "I know," you whisper, "but it feels like nothing's sinking in. Every day is just one more reminder that I'm not good enough."

Luigi pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes soft but firm. "Listen to me," he says gently. "You’re not dumb, okay? You’re working hard, and that means something. It’s not about remembering everything at once. It’s about the effort you put in, and you’re doing that." He pauses, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "If studying were easy, it wouldn’t be worth anything. You’re going through the struggle now so that it gets easier later."

You close your eyes, trying to let his words sink in, but the self-doubt still lingers. "I just don’t know how to keep going when I feel like I’m failing."

"My baby." You almost drift off when he calls you like this and places a kiss on your forehead. "Everyone has those moments. Hell, I have them too. But you’ve got to give yourself grace. You’re allowed to have tough days. Just don’t quit."

You inhale deeply, letting the comfort of his presence settle over you. "But what if I can’t do it? What if I keep forgetting everything?"

The despair in your voice makes his heart ache, and he pulls you back against his chest.

“Maybe you just need to approach it differently,” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Your whiteboard isn’t helping?”

“No,” you sigh, “I just keep looking at it and nothing really sticks.”

His hands move gently, tracing small circles on your back as he holds you close, as if trying to melt away some of the tension weighing on you. "It's okay," he murmurs, a cocky smile plays on his lips. "We'll come up with a better idea.”

You are too weary to read the ambiguity of Luigi’s words, so all you manage to do is just sigh and immerse yourself in his touch.

Luigi rolls you over and your lips are instantly on his as you lay a hand on his neck, “Or maybe it’s just stress and you need someone to help you relieve it?”

You gasp out, fingers lacing through his hair, “Lu,” you grind down onto him as you trail your kisses lower, down along the line of his jaw to his neck.

Luigi lifts his head just as you look down at him and you let out a moan, pulling him up for a long kiss. Your hand glides down his chest, your fingertips barely grazing the ridges of his abs, tracing slow, soothing patterns. Moans escape your lips and you tug on his hair, earning a groan from him. Your eyes bounce from his lips to his eyes, “Please.”

“So eager.”

Luigi’s fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. He rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

“Baby, you're soaked through your panties..." He pants out.

Your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure.

Taking your moan as an invitation, Luigi carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. Then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart… feel good?” He croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

Your legs are already shaking before he’s even started and it makes him smile against you, blowing on your cunt to see your cute reactions. He uses his pretty fingers to spread your hole open, licking at you so passionately it’s like he’s making out with your wet pussy.

His skilled tongue is nearly too much for you, making you grab at his hair and tug harshly but it just makes him moan, the vibrations causing you to lift your hips off the bed and Luigi has his eyes on you the whole time, peering up at you with his big, bambi eyes.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and dripping with desperation. “Let me hear you. You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel yourself teetering on the brink, unable to hold back any longer.

And then it happens. You feel yourself start to convulse around his fingers, your body trembling as a broken cry tears from your lips. Luigi continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure. The waves of your orgasm crash over you, leaving you breathless and weak.

"Did so well for me, baby," he coos, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips in an attempt to pull you back down to earth.

“Mhmm, Lu…”

“Yeah? What do you need?” He smirks.

Mind too preoccupied and taken up with thoughts of taking him down your throat. Thoughts you’d spent nearly a week daydreaming about. Maybe he was the reason why you could never concentrate on your studies. “I need you in my mouth please.”

“Is this what you want? Huh?” You nod your head in response, falling to your knees as your hand began to unbuckle his belt.

His swollen tip hits the back of your throat, the sudden sensation causing you to tense up and attempt to pull away. He was far too big to fit inside your tiny little mouth.

You gargle around his length, submitting to him completely, letting him use your mouth to get himself off. You reach one hand up, massaging his balls in your hand, kneading it in your palm, knowing exactly what it does to him.

“Do that again- Shit, just like that, right there.”

His eyes shoot down to where you’re looking up at him with teary eyes, your mouth enveloping him fully, and then to where you're massaging his balls. This was definitely what he needed and deserved.

He lets out an involuntary groan. “Yeah, keep looking as you’re ruining me.”

You dig your nails into his thighs as he presses your head down hard enough to choke you of air. It doesn’t take him long before he comes with a loud groan, hips bucking without a pattern. You swallow it to the best of your ability, some leaking out and dripping down your chin. He lets out a satisfied hum, stretching out your arms in your direction. “Come here, nerd.”

You giggle, breaking the silence of the two of you heavy breathing. “Well, not quite a nerd.”

“Since I fucked some knowledge into you, yes you’re my favorite nerd.” He laughs while playing with your hands.

“Oh shut up.”

[strwbrychffoncke]

"you'll feel it deep down whenever you're alone,, 1.1k words synopsis: caleb can't find it in himself to regret this if its something you've always wanted ,too contains: nsfw! (+ angst?) ,lnds caleb x afab!reader ,wouldn't call it 'forbidden love' but just playing w the idea of yearner!caleb (& coming to terms w being able to have u) ,caleb wrestling w guilt over his feelings ,reassurance from reader (u both want this) ,you sit on his lap ,confession ,kissing ,touching ,implied first time (more for caleb than for reader) ,hand holding ,unprotected sex ,piv ,caleb is kinda possessive right at the v end ,i think thats it note: (unedited!) knew this song was perfect for him but had to try had to write smth that would fit too.... this is lowkey a character study disguised as a fic :x also thought ab this + this art while writing which helps convey the feeling i was going for here (go support the artist they mean sm to me)

-

caleb knows he shouldn't feel like this.

he's known since he first realized his feelings back then.

how many years has it been now? he couldn't tell since he's loved you for as long as he could remember.

he's known he shouldn't feel like this, he does, but when you asked him so sweetly, sitting on his lap, testing the waters, pressing yourself against him and finding a shred of boldness to spill what's been on your mind all of these years, what could he do but comply with your desires?

"i'm in love with you, caleb. i always have been. i need you to know. i... i need you, more than anything. you're the only one that i want."

his hands caress the apples of your cheeks and he reminisces about your baby fat from when you were younger, admiring the current softness of them, unable to resist the urge to squish them just slightly.

he watches you nuzzle into his familiar touch, eyes fluttering shut at the comforting warmth of his hands.

his breathing picks up ever so slightly.

how many times have you been in this sort of situation right now? so close in proximity, breaths beginning to intermingle with one another, wondering who will make the next move.

a thumb glides over your lips, caressing the plushy flesh.

how many times has he held you like this, wanting more than anything to close the distance, but unable to find it in himself, hesitating before pulling back altogether?

your eyes crack open, looking directly into his.

'don't....'

"caleb..."

'don't look at me like that.'

you lean forward ever so slightly, eyes locked with his.

'don't....'

he feels your warm breath on his lips, so close that if he leans forward just slightly, he'll meet you.

'don't say it....'

"kiss me."

your words are a whisper against his lips, and his eyes are wide, looking back into yours, so close yet unwilling to make the move if he really isn't willing.

you've never made it easy for him.

his thumbs brush over your cheeks.

"are you sure?"

"i'm sure."

his forehead rests against yours.

"you've really thought about this?"

"more than anything."

he inhales a shaky breath.

"okay."

he closes the distance.

-

the kiss slowly escalates to now, his fingertips traveling slowly down your skin, hands trembling at your sides, torn between holding you in his firm grasp and pulling away completely.

you were the worst kind of drug to him.

but he could never stay away.

noticing his hesitation you gently rested your hands over his, pushing them flat against your abdomen.

"its okay," your voice was soft, too soft, too sweet right now.

don't say it like that.

"you can touch me, caleb."

his breath hitched.

don't say that so easily.

"i want this, too," you breathed out, offering a kind, reassuring smile devoid of the usual teasing you two were used to engaging each other with.

and he felt what little restraint he had left, snap.

don't....

he took a deep breath, planting his hands firmly onto your stomach, feeling the soft material of your shirt under his fingertips before he started dragging his hands up and down.

he looked up at your face.

you nodded. keep going.

his touch moved up, feeling your breasts through your shirt.

you hummed under the kneading of his large hands, and he felt his heart lurch.

he was really touching you like this.

you were so soft, just how he'd imagined you'd be. his heart hammered in his chest, unable to tear his eyes away from you, unable to tear his eyes away from the face that he was the one corrupting you this way.

even so, even if he felt like he was ruining you under the touch of his fingertips...

"caleb, take it off."

when your sweet reassurances were all that continued to spill from your lips, looking up at him pleadingly and longingly, how could this possibly be wrong?

-

caleb is taken aback at the sight of your body in all of its beauty.

sure, he had grown up with you, watching you grow in return, and would often be reminded of just how much you'd grown from back then.

this was a sight he'd only dreamed of.

he realized he'd been staring for too long when you squirmed under his gaze, looking to the side and shielding yourself with your arms.

"dont just stare.... i know i'm—"

"you're beautiful, pipsqueak," he breathes out.

you meet his eyes staring right back into yours, and watch as his hands reach for your wrists, removing your arms from your center and gently pinning them to the mattress.

his eyes rake over your body again, his hands inching up to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"i just.. can't believe i really get to have you like this."

you heart thrums, small smile curling on your lips. you knew exactly what he meant.

"me too," you whisper.

caleb lets out a shaky breath.

he feels you squeeze his hand.

"kiss me, caleb."

he doesn't think twice this time, leaning down to capture your lips with his, the depths of his feelings pouring directly into you, and you can feel it, feel how badly he's wanted this, how badly he wants it, and you're only filled with relief that the sentiment is shared.

when you break away and urge him to keep going, he does so with little hesitation.

each touch of his is spurred on by your pleased sounds and urges of "just like that" and "there" as he explores your body, learning about what exactly makes you feel good, committing it to memory for future reference of this repeated time together.

when you urge him on, whining about how you need him inside, caleb is slipping out of his shorts and boxers and tossing his shirt over his head, wasting no time in pumping himself with one hand and caressing your stomach with the other before lining himself up with your awaiting entrance.

he looks up at you again, another look.

"are you sure?"

and you grab onto his arms, eyes full of determination and desire.

"yes, wanted this for so long, please caleb!"

a relieved sigh.

"me too, pipsqueak."

when he sheathes himself into you for the first time, he can't bring himself to feel guilty anymore, not when this feels so right, not when you feel so good.

and when he begins moving within you, thrusting in and out and setting a steady pace, your sounds of pleasure filling his ears, the sight and feel of you enveloping his sense, he leans down to kiss you again, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you two were always meant to be together like this.

he wouldn't let you go. he would make you his properly, and you would always be together: caleb would make sure of it.

-

a/n: i know i know im behind... working on the other fics as we speak :x

-

[cuubism]

this instagram reel made me think so strongly of a human AU viktor that I had to write a little ficlet about it

--

Normally, the fact that Jayce is such a light sleeper is a problem. Being easily awoken by any rain, wind, traffic, Cait traipsing in at midnight after going to see Vi, his own anxious thoughts--it's not beneficial to his sanity. Today, though. Today, he's grateful for it, because it means he wakes up at 4am when his phone buzzes with two Snap messages in quick succession.

Blearily, he opens the app, squinting against the bright light of the screen. There are really only two people in the world who send him snaps, and Cait is asleep in the other room of their shared apartment. Which means it's Viktor.

It takes him a second to even comprehend what he's seeing.

Viktor seems to be reclining in a hospital bed, shirt open over his bare chest which is covered with various wires stuck to the skin, an IV in the back of his hand and a heart monitor clipped to his finger. Despite all this, he's throwing up a peace sign with his free hand and the look he's giving the camera is downright sultry, his dark undereye circles almost giving the impression of a smoky eye.

I lived, bitch, the text over the photo says.

Jayce rapidly taps through to the next one.

Similar photo, but now the text reads, It's giving Consumption core, whatever the fuck that means.

It doesn't sound much like Viktor but hopefully that means someone's there with him, even if they're just taking photos instead of, you know, helping.

Nevertheless, Jayce vaults out of bed, pulling on the nearest clothes and grabbing his keys and-- because Viktor is sick or hurt or having a flare up or God knows what-- rushing out of his bedroom.

He's scrambling so much that he trips over the rug in the living room and goes down, hitting a side table with his shoulder and knocking the lamp on it onto the floor with a clatter. Fuck. He pushes himself to his feet again and--

The light in Cait's room goes on. Vi opens the door, rubbing her eyes. "What the fuck, man."

"Sorry," Jayce says, abandoning the fallen table in favor of shoving his feet into his shoes. "I gotta go, Viktor's in the hospital and--"

"What?" Cait emerges behind Vi. "Is he okay?"

"I think so? He sent me a snap so--"

Vi picks up Jayce's phone from where it's fallen to the floor and studies the picture. "Sounds like Jinx is with him." She tilts her head. "Kind of a good photo. Hot."

"Vi." Cait takes the phone and gives it back to Jayce. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, he wouldn't want everyone crowding." Viktor hadn't even specifically asked Jayce to come but like hell is he not going to. "I gotta-- I need to go--"

"Alright, be safe," Cait says, and Jayce is already rushing out the door.

While on the bus to the hospital, he texts Viktor directly. Are you okay??

The singularity is near, Jayce, Viktor writes back. I'm ever closer to transcending biology. I am composed of so many wires now; soon they will replace my veins entirely.

Jayce can't tell if the fact that he's typing in coherent sentences means he's okay or if the fact he's expounding on futurology at four in the morning from a hospital bed means he's not okay.

I like you not composed of wires, he replies.

Too late, Viktor says. I did try to explain to them that this is normal but they insisted on all of the wires.

Pretty sure it's not *normal*, Jayce says.

On the plus side, this hospital isn't stingy with the good drugs.

Jesus Christ. That explains the philosophizing.

Excuse you, I can do it perfectly well sober.

Should have brought you your Fuller novel the way people bring stuffed animals to the hospital. You could hold it for comfort while you fall asleep.

You are coming? says Viktor.

Yeah, Jayce says, of course I'm coming.

~

Technically, Jayce is Viktor's emergency contact, but there's still been issues getting in to see him in the past since Jayce is "not family." But apparently, Viktor had Jinx tell the hospital front staff that he was allowed in, because this time they direct him right to Viktor's room when he arrives.

Viktor is sitting up in bed when he gets there, indeed attached to a lot of wires, though a nurse is taking some of them off so they must have finished some tests. This is a different hospital bed, an actual room rather than the temporary ER situation he seemed to have been in in the photo before, which is not a good sign, though at least it hopefully means Viktor will be discouraged from leaving before its safe for him to do so.

The nurse passes Jayce in the doorway as she leaves, and Viktor turns to him, offering a wan smile. He looks tired, but then, he always looks tired lately.

Jinx is indeed there, perched on the end of the bed like a gargoyle. She waves at Jayce. "See, I told you my messages would get him to come."

"Some messages," Jayce says, sitting in the chair by Viktor's bed. Viktor looks at him curiously, and Jayce hands over his phone.

Viktor studies the snaps, and rubs his forehead tiredly. "Jinx, I asked you to text Jayce, not send hospital boudoir, or whatever this is." He peers closer at the messages. "Hm. They are good photos, though."

"Told ya."

"Viktor. Are you okay?" Jayce asks, pocketing his phone again. He takes Viktor's hand between both of his own, rubbing his knuckles.

"Just a flare up," Viktor says. Sure, Jayce thinks, 'just.' "Truthfully--do not gloat--I've been up too late and I got dehydrated, and I'm sure that exacerbated things."

"We were on a roll," Jinx complains. "There's no time for sleep when you're in the zone."

"Hm, until there suddenly is," Viktor says brightly. "I am okay, Jayce, truly."

"Alright. I was worried." And, carefully, he lifts Viktor's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

This thing between them--it's still new and tentative. More tentative from Jayce's end, really, he's always worried about mucking it up. But he tries to remind himself that nothing's really changed, they're still the same friends that they've always been. They just... do other stuff, too.

Well, and Jinx is now sending him photos of Viktor looking like the star of a vampire romance film.

"I'm going to get snacks," Jinx declares unsubtly, climbing off the bed and heading for the door.

"The vending machine has Taki's," Viktor calls helpfully as she leaves.

"How do you know that?" Jayce asks.

"I've been here before."

Of course.

Jayce sighs, pressing his forehead to their joined hands.

"You know," Viktor says, "if you were not able to bring me a book to cuddle. Am I allowed a you to cuddle?"

"I'm pretty sure that's against the rules."

"Meh, rules," Viktor says, dismissively. "What will they do, kick me out?"

"Kick me out," Jayce says.

"They won't," Viktor says, with such certainty that Jayce somehow believes him.

So he climbs into the hospital bed beside Viktor, arranging him carefully around all the wires and connections. Viktor curls into his side, resting his head on Jayce's shoulder.

"Thank you for coming," Viktor murmurs.

"Of course." Jayce can't imagine not coming as soon as he got that message. Even if Viktor thinks it's all unremarkable and normal. Viktor being in pain is never not going to make him drop everything and run. Even if that means he has to do a hell of a lot of running.

"You know," Viktor says. "The future of disembodied cloud consciousness does have a shortcoming."

"Oh, yeah? Only one?"

Viktor tsks, poking his arm. "It occurs to me that without a body it would be difficult to appreciate my personal furnace here."

Jayce squeezes him tighter. "Maybe your future disembodied consciousness will just have to have a temperature sensor. Might as well give it a pressure sensor too... oh wait, I think we might be circling back around to a body..."

"Perhaps it is not all bad to have a body," Viktor sighs. "Only mostly."

"Only mostly," Jayce agrees, kissing the top of his head.

--

two books referenced obliquely in this:

The Singularity is Near by Ray Kurzweil

Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth by R Buckminster Fuller

I think Viktor would be into them.

[wholoveseggs]

heyyyyy girllll, ik that you already wrote a series about a professor and student, but could you pleaseeeee make a one shot with a virgin reader🥹🥹🥹

Angel

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!vampire!Reader} Newly turned and overwhelmed, one hunger refuses to be ignored. You need guidance, and who better to teach you than Elijah Mikaelson?

♡♡ You didn't specify what kind of teacher.... so I took some creative libertiessss (DON'T BANG YOUR TEACHERS, OKAY?? NOT A WISE THING TO DO(EXCEPT IF THEY ARE A MIKAELSON))~ ♡♡

5k words {whoops} - Warnings: smuutttt, vampire!reader, virgin!reader, first time, a brief Hayley cameo, blood drinking, riding, reader knows what she wants, Elijah talking you through it, teaching, oral sex (f!receiving), feeding during sex, possessive but tender Elijah && a pet name...

"So, you're just going to waltz in and ask him?" Hayley asked, shocked at how blunt you were being.

"Well, yeah," you replied nonchalantly. "How else am I supposed to do it?"

"I don't know," she said, "maybe try being more subtle?"

Hayley looked at you like you'd lost your mind, but you just shrugged, unbothered. The constant hum of your heightened emotions had been driving you insane for days. Hunger, anger, lust. Mostly lust. And no matter how much you tried to control it, you couldn’t shake the gnawing, primal need clawing at you from the inside out.

"Subtlety is overrated," you said, crossing your arms. "I don’t think Elijah would appreciate me batting my lashes and giggling like a schoolgirl. He values directness."

"Yeah, but there's direct, and then there's direct," Hayley shot back, looking equally horrified and intrigued. "I mean, do you even know if he's into you?"

You paused, considering. Elijah was your mentor; your teacher when it came to all things vampire. He was always so composed, so controlled, but there was something in the way he looked at you. He was always assessing, always holding himself back. You'd caught him staring once or twice when he thought you weren’t looking. And there was that one time he murmured something in that low, velvety voice of his about lust being a difficult thing for new vampires to control…

"I think he is," you said simply.

"Okay, but what if he says no?" Hayley pressed.

You smirked, enjoying her mild jealousy. "Then I’ll go take an ice bath and reevaluate my choices."

Hayley groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is the most unhinged plan I’ve ever heard. And I've lived in this house with Klaus."

"Wish me luck," you said with a wink before striding down the hall toward Elijah’s study.

Your hands clenched at your sides as you stopped outside his door, suddenly hyper aware of how fast your heart was racing. Vampire senses made everything feel more. More intense, more overwhelming. But there was no turning back now. You wanted this. No. You needed this.

Taking a breath, you knocked once before pushing the door open.

Elijah sat at his desk, a glass of bourbon in one hand, an old book in the other. He barely glanced up as he said, “I take it this is a social visit?”

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you. “No, it’s not... well... actually...”

Finally, his dark eyes lifted to meet yours, curiosity flickering across his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You exhaled sharply and walked toward him, each step deliberate. "I want you to teach me something new... Something important."

His brow arched. "What is it that you think you're lacking in your education?"

You stopped in front of his desk, trying not to focus on the way his shirt clung to his toned chest. "I don't need any more history lessons, or lectures on self-control. I know all of that."

"Oh really? You've been a vampire for less than a month, and already you know everything I could possibly teach you?" he asked, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Not everything," you said, leaning forward to brace yourself on his desk. "I still have lots to learn and there's one lesson I'm hoping you can teach me, and I'd like you to start right now."

His eyes narrowed, darting to your lips for a brief moment before snapping back to yours. "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

You swallowed, nerves clashing with the hunger and lust burning inside you. Then, with as much confidence as you could muster, you blurted it out.

"I want you to teach me how to have sex."

For the first time since you had met him, Elijah Mikaelson actually looked stunned. The glass in his hand halted halfway to his lips, eyes widening fractionally before his expression resumed its usual cool facade. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I beg your pardon?"

You bit your lip, cheeks flushing as you replayed the words in your head, suddenly embarrassed. But no, you had decided, you would be direct.

"Before I was turned... I, uh, I didn't get a chance to, you know, lose my virginity. So, I don't know what I'm doing... And I'm worried if I just pick up a random guy, I might kill him..." You spoke quickly, already regretting opening your mouth. What was wrong with you?

"Are you propositioning me, my dear?"

Something like warm amusement flickered in his eyes, and you relaxed a little, straightening. You expected pity, the way Hayley had looked at you. Judgment. Anything but the glint in Elijah's eyes as they slowly raked down your body, gaze sharpening with interest as it darkened.

A giddy flutter rose in your chest, and you licked your lips.

"Yes."

Silence fell over the room as Elijah set his drink down and stood, walking slowly toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. When he finally stopped, his chest was nearly brushing yours, the proximity making your head spin.

"Tell me, why have you chosen me for this particular lesson?" he murmured, fingers reaching up to trace the line of your jaw.

A jolt of heat ran through you, and you tried to remember how to speak. "Well, you're, uh, a noble gentleman... I trust you."

He chuckled. "I try my best. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"Um..." You trailed off, his fingers slipping under your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Be honest, angel,"

"Because..." you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks. Angel? He just called you angel.

"Because... I think about you, all the time," you admitted. "Ever since I became a vampire. It's like every feeling is dialed up to eleven. Except my desire. It's a thousand times worse than that, and I can't make it stop. It's torture. And I know it's inappropriate, but..."

"It's not," Elijah interjected, his fingers sliding down the length of your throat. "We can't help what we want, can we?"

You shook your head.

"What is it that you want, my little vampire?"

You swallowed, your eyes flickering to his lips. "I want to kiss you."

His lips curved into a smirk, and then his mouth was on yours, firm but gentle. His lips moved slowly, expertly, and your entire body flooded with warmth, your legs suddenly unsteady. He felt so good. Smelled so good.

Your arms went around his neck, pulling him closer. You had kissed boys before, but it was nothing like this. This was an out-of-body experience, like the whole world was melting away and there was only the two of you.

He moved away far too soon, and a small sound of protest left your lips.

"So eager," he said, tipping your chin up to look at him. "Is that all you want? A kiss?"

You shook your head, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping. "No."

He smiled, his hands moving down your waist to your hips, gripping lightly, pulling you flush against him. "Our bodies have an enhanced awareness of what they want, what they need." He paused, pressing a kiss to the column of your throat, then, so quietly it was almost inaudible,  "Humans have sex drives, but ours..."

"Are stronger," you finished in a raspy voice. "More Intense."

Elijah hummed. "Very."

"So, you'll teach me then?"

He chuckled softly, lifting his head to capture your lips in another slow, deep kiss. "Teaching isn't the word I would use,"

A blush spread from your chest to your cheeks. You nodded, wanting more than anything for him to tumble you into bed and show you all the things his thousand years had taught him. He was patient, though, and the way he was kissing you now was driving you mad.

He lifted you effortlessly, and you let out a soft gasp. Before you could blink, you were in his bedroom, him pressing your back into the mattress, his hands everywhere. His lips trailed down the column of your throat, tongue darting out to taste the soft skin.Your hands curling into his chest, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't rip my shirt," he murmured against your neck, and you giggled.

"Sorry,"

"You will be," he said, pulling back to give you a dark smile.

A thrill of anticipation ran through you, and you pushed him onto his back, climbing onto his lap, the heat between your legs throbbing with need. Your lips crashed together again, more frantic this time, more desperate. Teeth clashed, biting, nibbling, sucking. All the while, a heady ache grew between your thighs, and when he cupped your ass, pulling your hips flush against his, you could feel his own primal need straining against his trousers.

You moaned into his mouth, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, needing more. "Please, Elijah," you murmured, sighing at the soft kisses he began to trail along your throat. "I need you."

"Patience, angel,"

With a frustrated groan, you slumped against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His scent surrounded you. Aftershave, musk, something distinctly masculine and earthy. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment. Then you heard it, his blood, pumping steadily beneath his skin, calling to you. You wanted to sink your fangs into him, taste his hot blood coursing over your tongue.

You felt your vampire nature take over, veins protruding beneath your eyes, fangs extending. Instinct urged you forward, pressing soft kisses to his neck before nuzzling his warm skin, hunger gnawing inside your bones.

He chuckled at the gentle, kitten-like kisses you pressed to his neck, your fangs scratching his skin. He pulled your head away, urging your eyes to meet his as a glimmer of amusement danced in his. "So bloodthirsty,"

"C'mon, please." you whined, leaning in and kissing him deeply, trying to press your core against his bulge. You grunted, bucking your hips, starting a rhythm. Fuck he smelled so good, he felt so good, every fiber of your being yearning for his touch.

Your fangs brushed against his lower lip, drawing blood. He hissed, kissing you harder. His fingers tightened against the back of your head as he angled your face to give himself more access. You mewled as your hands clung to his chest, feeling his cock stiff against your stomach was doing terrible things to you.

"Look at me."

You obeyed instantly, his compulsion bringing you to a screeching halt. You whimpered, panting and needy. As his bloody lip healed, a single drop trickled down his chin, and you shivered, licking your lips as you followed the droplet's path with your eyes.

"Relax," he cooed, smirking as he wiped it away. "Don't you worry. I'm going to give you exactly what you want. But," he added in a darker tone, "only when I say."

Swallowing hard, you nodded, bracing your hands against his shoulders. "Okay,"

"Good girl,"

A rush of arousal shot through you at the praise, and a needy whine escaped your lips.

He smirked. "Oh, you like that? Being told what a good girl you are?"

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and his smirk widened. 

"Take your clothes off for me," he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You quickly scrambled off his lap, flushed with heat as you stripped, pulling your dress over your head, watching Elijah watch you. His eyes tracked your every move, drinking you in as your bra came off. Then, with your shaky fingers, you hooked your thumbs under your panties, slowly peeling them down your thighs. Finally, you stood in front of him, naked, exposed, trembling, heart pounding in your ears.

"My, you're even lovelier than I'd imagined,"

You ached to feel him, craving more, more, more. A spark flashed in his gaze. You wanted him. Everything about this felt right. Every part of him wanted you too. His restraint was nothing but a mask, all for your benefit. You knew that once he lost his control, he would not be the patient and kind teacher you knew so well. Underneath that carefully crafted image was a beast, a creature of immense power, a force to be reckoned with.

"What's wrong, my dear?"

His voice pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes flitting up to his. A faint smirk played on his lips as his hand slid to your hip, dragging you closer. "Can't remember how to speak?"

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent thought.

"That's alright," he said, kissing his way down the side of your neck. “tell me if it gets too overwhelming,”

You nodded, inhaling sharply as your bare skin brushed his, your hands flat against his broad chest. His lips found yours again, deepening the kiss as his tongue parted your lips. Something was happening to you, this unfamiliar feeling. You could tell something big was building inside, a need, and Elijah was unravelling it, unraveling you.

He chuckled against your lips as he cupped your face, slowly pulling back just enough to gaze at you with those deep, brown eyes of his. He took your hand and sat you down at the edge of the bed.

"Don't be shy," he whispered. "It's just me."

You gulped. Just Elijah. Sure. How reassuring.

The room felt like it was spinning around you, but as you looked at him, everything steadied. He took a step back, unbuttoning his collar slowly. You wanted him. You could barely stop yourself from reaching for his belt, your hunger overriding every thought and impulse. You mustered all the self-control Elijah had taught you, forcing yourself to sit still as your thighs clenched together, the urge to relieve yourself building and building.

Elijah tilted his head, enjoying how desperate you were becoming, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his shirt came undone. He tossed the article of clothing on the ground.

Your eyes drifted over his bare chest, his nice arms and toned torso. A breath escaped you when your eyes moved down to see the defined outline of his cock against the material of his slacks. He was big, so big, so thick, so—

Your face went hot. A jolt of reality hitting you, everything felt so much, all at once. The hunger for his touch, for his taste. The way he smelled so fucking good. Everything was amplified, your every sense alive and thrumming. You bit your lip and watched as his slacks hit the ground and he stepped out of them, your mouth practically salivating.

Elijah was fucking stunning, and all yours.

He smiled and placed one of his knees on the edge of the bed. The movement made it bounce ever so slightly, and your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but the only sound you could manage was a squeak.

He reached for you, pulling you close and capturing your lips in his again. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to surrendered to him, letting yourself feel him, really feel him.

"This is going to feel very intense for you," he murmured in the small space between your mouths, "your emotions and needs heightened. All your senses are in overdrive."

A sigh left you as you opened your eyes again to meet his, dark and full of promises you never dreamed of before. His eyes, they made you tremble, they were so warm, so intense. And when they dropped to your mouth, the heat pooling between your thighs intensified tenfold.

"Don't feed until I say so, you understand?" He pulled back slightly, tilting his head and giving you a warning look, making sure he had your complete attention.

You swallowed and nodded. "I won't,"

"Good girl," he hummed before dipping down to kiss your lips.

His kiss was more possessive, his touch more demanding. Elijah pushed you back into the bed, your hair sprawling around you as he kissed you senseless. His lips left yours and kissed down your jawline, down your neck, to the swell of your breasts. You moaned when you felt his hot, wet mouth close around your nipple, your body thrumming when he nipped your flesh between his teeth, giving the other the same treatment.

The throbbing was intense and so damn good. His mouth was magic as he kissed a path down your stomach, making you feel like your entire being was ablaze, your desire burning deep. You writhed, his lips curling into a smile against your skin. He could probably hear how hard your heart was pounding. He was driving you mad with need.

"Please, Elijah," you breathed, squirming beneath him as his mouth continued to work over you, down your abdomen.

A deep, husky chuckle rumbled in his chest as his lips pressed to the sensitive skin on your inner thighs, teasing, tantalizing you with each featherlight kiss. Your breathing picked up, his mouth so close to where you wanted him. Both of your hands tangled in his dark hair, nerves and anticipation waring in your mind.

His hands came up, parting your knees slowly. He hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, widening his tongue and lapping you from your core to your clit, giving the tiny bud a teasing swirl of his tongue. The moan you let out was low and full of lust, a kind of lust you'd never felt before. Magnified, overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Relax, angel," His lips brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves with each word, making your heart jump to your throat, making it almost hard to breathe.

Your hips rolled forward, pushing you against his lips, seeking more pressure, more friction. You felt so wanton, so desperate, so needy. You felt him smile against your core as his mouth engulfed you, his tongue swirling and sucking as he slowly pressed his middle finger inside you.

Your whole body stiffened and clenched around him as your mouth fell open. A string of low and soft curses fell from your lips, and your back arched against his bed as he pumped his finger in and out.

"Elijah, oh, oh fuck," your voice broke as another moan escaped you when his tongue lapped at your clit. He curled his finger up inside you, sending a ripple of heat straight up your spine.

You tipped over the edge instantly, a white-hot heat engulfing you. You came in waves, your eyes clenched shut as your head fell back into the plush comforter beneath you. Elijah didn't stop his movements, working you through your climax and beyond until your hips stilled, and your breathing leveled out.

You felt so spent, but the ache inside you only deepened, intensified. You knew what you really needed to quench the fire, you knew that Elijah was the only one who could give you that. Your fangs itched, throbbing behind your gums, ready to come out when the moment was right.

Elijah sat up, wiping his mouth and looking pleased with himself as he looked down at your naked form beneath him. You bit your lip, heat creeping into your cheeks as you smiled at him.

"That was..." you trailed off, unable to form the proper words to describe what the fuck you had just experienced.

Elijah grinned as he dipped back down and pressed a long and loving kiss to your lips. He pulled you closer as you deepened the kiss. He kissed you so sweetly and softly, his hands resting on your lower back and his tongue slowly mapping out your mouth. You hummed into his kiss as you ran your fingers down his toned back, pulling him close.

"Now, my sweet angel," Elijah murmured, tilting your face up so his dark eyes locked with yours. "Are you ready for your final lesson?"

"Yes, Elijah," you whispered, your lips brushing against his. “Please,”

Elijah took one of your legs and wrapped it around him as his cock nudged your core. He was teasing you, moving the tip up and down your slit, making your entire body quiver as he kissed down your neck, finding a spot just behind your ear and nibbling gently.

He continued this pattern, your whines becoming needy and pathetic. Elijah's smirk pressed to your skin as his fangs nipped at your shoulder. Your head rolled back, giving him more room as he suckled on your pulse point.

"Such a good student for me, always listening, always eager." He said between nips. "Are you going to keep being my good girl?"

A strangled yes fell from your lips as Elijah nudged at your entrance. You whined and panted, trying to wiggle your hips and get him to sink his cock inside you, but he only chuckled and gripped your hips, pinning you to the bed as he nuzzled your neck.

"Let's not be impatient," he whispered, the low and possessive tone in his voice made a shiver roll down your spine. "There's so much I have yet to teach you, darling."

Elijah pressed his hips forward, and you felt the tip of him press against your entrance. He moved his face away from your neck as he pressed into you.

Your hands clung to him as you braced for it, this thing, this big, scary thing you never experienced, was suddenly happening. “It's okay," he hummed, "just breathe, angel,"

Your face felt warm as you looked at him and took a deep breath. He leaned forward, kissing your lips lovingly as his hands squeezed your hips, pulling you closer, sinking deeper.

His thrusts were slow, languid, intense. Elijah held himself up on his forearms, caging you as he looked down at you. Your mouth parted as your eyes locked with his. His slow and teasing rhythm had you trembling beneath him.

"My sweet little vampire," he purred, a deep sound in the back of his throat. "So good for me."

The words of praise were too much, the sight of Elijah above you, the feeling of him inside you. Your nails raked down his back, digging into his skin, needing him closer, wanting more, desperate to consume it all. 

A sudden vampiric urge took over, and you pushed on his chest with all your strength, he chuckled and sat back, letting you take the lead with a smirk on his face. In one swift move you were straddling his lap, sinking back down onto his cock and making both of you moan.

You were running on pure instinct as you began to move your hips, trying to find the right rhythm. He cupped your ass in his hands, his thumbs stroked your skin gently as you bounced up and down on his lap.

"Like this, angel," he said softly, repositioning your knees as you gripped his shoulders. "Here," he pulled one hand away from your ass to show you the correct motion to roll your hips with, guiding you until your movements matched his instructions.

"A fast learner in all things," He purred as a grin formed on your face, making him smile in return. You kept the movement of your hips steady, trying to control the bloodlust in your peripherals. 

Your hips slowed and you leaned forward to kiss along his neck, your fangs extending, and a new feeling came over you. A hunger that couldn't be filled by blood or sex. This hunger needed both, primally, simultaneously. And it had a target.

You felt him grip you a little tighter as your hips rocked a little faster. The bed began to creak softly beneath you as you increased your rhythm, his head rolled back with a soft moan. The sound only spurred you on.

Elijah gripped the back of your head and pulled you up for a kiss. He moaned into your mouth when you swirled your hips. The movement caused your clit to rub against him, giving you that delicious friction you so badly needed.

The wild hunger was taking over, obscene bloodlust. Clouding all reasoning. Your fangs ached with a painful desire to bite him, sink into him, take his blood.

"Elijah," you murmured between kisses. You couldn't wait any longer. Your eyes were black, your fangs extended, veins dancing under your eyes, and Elijah chuckled at the look. "Elijah, can I—"

He kissed you harder, his grip on your hips tightening. "Take what you need, angel,"

A growl came from the back of your throat, and your lips went straight to his neck. The moment you sunk your fangs in his skin, he moaned deeply, making your clench around him.

Time seemed to fall away as you tasted Elijah's blood. It was rich and sweet, nothing like anything you'd ever tasted before. It felt like you were in some sort of haze, unable to stop yourself from bouncing and moaning in Elijah's lap as you fed on him. Blinded by pure and unadulterated pleasure.

It was heaven, pure and simple, the taste of him. A moan rumbled from the depths of his chest, and you felt the reverberation of his groan through his neck.

You were drunk off his blood, high off his touch. Everything about him was intoxicating. The sounds, the taste, the feeling, the sin of it all.

"Don't stop," he groaned. "Fuck, don't stop."

You couldn't even if you tried. You would never disobey an order from him. Your hips were moving at an almost inhuman pace, the taste of his blood only adding fuel to the fire inside. He was all yours, and you were his. Blood, sex, breath, skin, all intermingling. You felt his hand come up and tangle into your hair, holding you to his neck as his other hand moved to the small of your back, adjusting your rhythm to an inhuman level.

"Just like that, angel, fuck," his voice was a strangled whisper, his head rolled back as a loud, throaty groan left him.

The way his body stiffened, the way he moaned, and the way his hips snapped up into yours, his cock thrusting deep into you had you seeing stars. You were coming, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It was all too much. His blood, his cum, the feeling of him deep inside you, the taste of him on your lips, the scent of him everywhere. Everything exploded at once. White hot fire rolled over and under your skin, like you were being consumed by napalm. 

He moaned deeply as you rode out your orgasms, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly pressed against his chest. You panted, trying to catch your breath as his mouth found yours, he bit down on your lip, your own blood flooding his mouth, mingling with the taste of his. Completing the connection, blood mixing, becoming one. 

You were panting, breathless, sated. But the need wasn't gone. The hunger lingered. The desire remained. You didn't think it would ever be fully quenched.

Elijah pressed a few gentle kisses to your lips before he laid down, bringing you with him. He shifted so that his softening cock slipped out of you and cradled you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as the two of you lay there in silence, catching your breath.

Your body felt exhausted and sore, but so fucking good, too. Your head was swimming as Elijah looked at you with a tender, loving gaze, a hint of pride lingering in the brown eyes that studied you. You felt your face grow hot under his scrutiny, feeling self-conscious from how intensely he was watching you.

Elijah’s fingers traced idle circles against your back, his breath warm against your temple. "You’re thinking too much, angel," he murmured, amusement laced in his voice.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I just... I don’t know what this means to you." The words felt clumsy now, uncertain in a way you hadn’t been when you had marched into his study and asked him to ruin you.

Elijah hummed, tilting his head like he was considering something. "Curious," he mused. "You certainly weren’t so hesitant when you strolled into my study and propositioned me like one might ask for a book recommendation."

The heat that bloomed across your cheeks was now traveling down your neck. "That was different."

"Was it?" He chuckled, low and indulgent. "You seemed quite certain then. So impatient, so eager. So hopelessly distracted during our lessons. Tell me, was it always lust muddling your focus, or was it just me?"

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. "I regret everything."

"No, you don’t," he countered, the smug grin evident in his voice. "But tell me, angel, why the sudden uncertainty?"

You bit your lip, the vulnerability creeping back in. "I don’t know if this was just... a lesson for you. That this is just casual,"

Elijah stilled for half a second. Just long enough for doubt to gnaw at you. Before he tipped your chin up, his eyes were dark but soft. "You are a rarity," he began, voice like silk. "Fascinating, infuriating. Bold enough to challenge me, reckless enough to walk into my study and ask the unthinkable. Do you know how long it has been since someone has surprised me?"

You swallowed hard, and he smiled. "That is why I call you angel," he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. "Because I look at you and I see heaven."

Your chest ached at the weight of his words. He had called you angel from the moment he agreed to this. He had looked at you with something unreadable, something reverent, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world.

Elijah was right; this was a lesson for you, but not the one either of you had expected. It wasn't about control, or restraint, or blood. It was a lesson in trust, in opening your heart, and it was the last thing either of you had thought to expect.

And as Elijah leaned down and kissed you again, his hands gentle and possessive and loving all at once, you knew it was the beginning of something wonderful.

[frostedclock-writes]

Crimson Magnolias

Part 7

----

Warnings: Hanahaki Disease, emotions coming to a head, jealousy

---

The congealed flower and blood soup on the floor was thick. A few splatters ended up on the top of your shoes, great. Yet another pair ruined by this stupid curse of yours. And now your stuck. Stuck in this little coffin of an elevator with your own shame staring at you. You wipe your mouth but the taste lingers.

You take a few breaths, your lungs feel tight when you try to breath in. It will be fine. You just have to try and pry a rusty metal door open and climb to the closest opening you can find. It will be all okay. The bees knees. Cats pajamas. Fucking shit.

You slowly sit up straight after your stomach stopped doing the dry squeezing to try and empty what was left. Which currently was nothing, even your stomach acid refused to give anything. The small elevator smelled like blood and flowers, you couldn't escape it now. Maybe Rosie had been right, you were holding so much in. Perhaps even just talking with her would have helped, but at this point it seemed like it was a lost cause.

" I'm such a fucking idiot. " You laugh out the words. Or perhaps they were sobs. You couldn't even tell yourself.

You lean your back against the very back of the elevator away from the sticky puddle. Your eyes stung and you felt something wet slide down your cheek. When did it even begin? When did you first fall for such a man like Alastor?

It must have been then.

Even if you hadn't known.

It was when your eyes first met his. You fell hard and didn't even know until you were picking your face off of the ground.

It had been stormy spring in Louisiana, the Mississippi had overflown a few times and made some residents of New Orleans need to clean their basements out of rotted goods and items. You had been walking the brick laid streets, rain still sprinkled and splattered against the peacoat you wore that day for the chill that lingered in the early morning air. You used to work in that little bakery and had to go in early to get things prepared, that day had been no different.

You must have not been paying attention. You couldn't even remember what had been on your mind in those moments before the shop whindow had caught your attention. Radios on display of all sorts, large and small. Some with intricate carvings into the wood and the love put into the products was obvious.

" Such beautiful work ..." You must have spoken out loud.

You recall seeing a reflection next to yours as it came into view. A tall man with dark hair and a smile on his lips.

"A woman with impeccable taste, a rare find. " You thought his chuckle was like hearing music for the first time.

You turned your head to the stanger next to you. Normally, no one was up this early and walking about, except perhaps you and a few shopkeeps. He was dressed in a simple white button up paired with dark brown slacks that looked startched and pressed, crisp lines followed his thin silhouette. A bowtie topped off his appearance.

Your eyes met deep brown ones and they seemed to study you.

" Radios can come in such wondrous forms, don't you agree?" His voice was so familiar to you then. It ticked the recesses of your mind like a jingle you couldn't get rid of in your mind.

The rain started to fall a little harder and it made some of your hair stick to your face. He looked at you, a tilt of the head. You hadn't answered and you realized you must seem rude. You laughed and smiled.

" I suppose. Sorry, you sound familiar. Do I know you?" You ask and you take the little clutch purse you carried and put it over your head like a visor as the rain droplets began to pelt down like little pinpricks. The stanger had seemed like he didn't mind.

He had both of his hands tucked behind him, one came out and he bowed a bit at his waist. His smile shown brightly even in the low lighting of the streetlamps and shops slowly turning on their lights. " You must have heard one of my radio shows. Alastor, a pleasure to be meeting you. " His hand extended with his palms upwards.

You gently lay your hand in his.

You can still feel the small thin callouses on his hand and the feel of his lips on the back of your hand. Such a simple thing.

" Mmm how unsightly. "

Your eyes open back up and the raining streets of New Orleans faded and the harsh lights of the elevator reminded you of where you were. The sound like someone stepping in sticky soda and pulling their shoe off of it, kinda squishy at the same time. You shoot your eyes to the voice and noise. Alastor's nose was scrunched up as he looked at the bottom of his hooves. Mushed petals and blood stuck to the polished red of his hooves.

You wish you could drop dead right then and there.

Maybe if you bit off your tongue you could bleed out in time?

Alastor stepped off to the side of the petal and he dusted his hand off like he had touched the viscera and petals himself. His eyes looked to you. They narrowed a little and he scanned your face for something but you didn't know what.

" You thought you could slip away like that?" He asked simply. " And now I see why you really haven't been feeling yourself lately. "

You felt your stomach clench. " It's nothing. "

Lights flickered in the elevator.

" Nothing?" A record scratch and he moved in close. Close and fast. It made your heart feel like it went straight into your throat. " You've been hiding something such as this from me. "

No everyone has been right. You're killing yourself. And for what? You might have been able to move on with Vox but he goes and...

' Someone like you deserves better-'

' You look like you need to get things off your chest.'

' You need to stop holding yourself back.'

"Do you even really care? Did you ever care?" Your eyes felt like they were stinging. Your throat burned like you swallow boiling water. " About me?"

He stopped for a moment and looked at you. Intense red. " What?"

You realized he had leaned his tall frame over you and you were effectively trapped against the wall. You had to crane your neck to look at him in the eyes. "Or was I just some fun thing to have around? Or did you just like the idea of having someone around that would do anything for you?"

Alastor blinked and he moved to not be so looming over you. His usual postering seemed to fade. " Cher..."

" No... Don't 'cher' me." You rubbed your palms against your cheeks and wiped the tears tracks away.

A hand went over yours, stopping the aggressive wipe you were about to do. " Y/N." The filter he usually put to his voice was gone. Just his voice. You looked at him from the spot on his chest you had decided to focus on. " How could you ask me a thing like that? I care for you a great deal. "

You felt your gut twisting into knots and the taste of ginger was unbearable in your mouth. " But, not in the way that I want you too. " You slipped your hand from his.

His hand stayed a few centimeters from your face for a moment. You could feel the heat of his hand from there, and then it was against your cheek. Warm. How can a cannibalistic serial killer's hands be so gentle? You so wanted to lean into the touch, wanted more.

"Y/N, " his name fell from your lips and you looked into his eyes. His smile was slight, a ghost of his usual stretched grin. " You fancied me?"

You let out a broken sob of a laugh. " You're such an idiot. Fancy you. Yes. " You made another laugh as it felt like your lungs were on fire. " Fuck, Alastor. I have loved you. Been devoted to you. " Tears began to fall again. " You think anyone who isn't in love with your dumbass would put up with you this long? "

Alastor sighed out a laugh. And for a split moment you felt like he was about to make fun of you. "I suppose you are right. If you have for so long, why have you never spoke it?"

You felt your cheeks heat up beneath the drying trails of tears. " Because.... I know you don't ... " You shifted. " Exactly do the dating, courting, romance, shtick. I enjoy youy company. Why would I want to ruin it with that? I had hoped it would go away. " You clutched at the fabric in front of your chest. Your lungs felt a bit lighter as you spoke.

His thumb brushed against your cheek. " Quite a silly woman you are. "

He was close. A different closeness then you had been used to from him. " How am I silly?"

" I enjoy your company immensely. Before I arrived down here, there were but a few who I would choose to spend time with outside the dancefloor. " His hand left your cheek and it went to the peice of your hair that had stuck to your wet cheeks. He seperated it and gently ran his red tipped fingers across it to the very end.

" Alastor," you began.

" Cher, you could have told me and I wouldn't have outright rejected the notion..."

The heat rose in your cheeks and you felt like your heart was about to stop beating. Maybe you had passed out in the elevator and hit your head. You expected him to sit up at any moment and laugh, tell you how it was actually silly of you to think he would even entertain the idea of becoming more than friends. But he never did.

" And I suppose you were right. " He stood up straight and adjusted his bowtie.

" What?" You blinked and looked at him. He wouldn't meet your gaze now.

" I am... " He grumbled the last part and it sounded like a radio station getting lost.

" Hmm?"

" I am jealous. " Alastor cleared his throat, taking his monocle and pretending to clean it. " Thinking of you with that.... Man... Made me a bit irrate. " He put his monocle back on. " I didn't agree to the idea when he mentioned his feelings before and I agree less now. " He waved his hand and his cane appeared, he stamped it and the elevator began to move again.

" Oh, well... Wait, before? " You cocked an eyebrow. When he didn't answer and the elevator door dinged open, you knew he wasn't going to.

Alastor stepped over the puddle about into the hallway. " I'll have Niffty come and clean this mess up, not to worry. " He said as he helped you over the blood and petals.

" Alastor, " you looked at him for a moment then took a small breath, then he put his finger to your lip with a tut.

" Saturday. Cancel whatever that Vox had planned and meet me outside my broadcast room. " He moved his finger away. " I'll take you somewhere. "

" A.... Date?"

Alastor shifted on his hooves, he made a small chuckle. " Yes.... " He chuckled gently. " A date. " He took your hand and kissed the back of your hand.

You swore you could hear the pitter-patter of rain.

taglist: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers @phoephan-123 @girl-nahh-two @kerosene--lamp @l3rittany @lunamoonbby @sallymoon135

[brwnbnny]

what are ur thoughts on sleeper build Chris whos also like hairy . Wholeheartedly i think he’s hairy all over NEED THAT!!

Oh you just opened a huge can of dicks with this... im giving you PORN WITH PLOT BCUS I CAN!

He's insecure but too lazy to shave it.. he doesnt have a girlfriend or anyone he really shows it.. soo? its fine..

until.. he's invited to go paddle boarding with josh, you, and sam.. oh god.. hes gonna be in a swimsuit.. INFRONT OF YOU.. OH NO-

little does he know hes about to get himself a one way ticket to POUND TOWN.

Him and Josh get there early- Josh is completely scheming this whole thing into getting you and Chris to fuck or something, you're blatant flirting back and forth making him sick to his stomach at the fact you two ARENT together.

You and Sam arrive and DEAR GOD chris cannot stop blatantly staring at your legs and ass its like...obsessive

Josh assigns you and sam to sit and relax on the boards while him and chris do all the paddling- Chris almost protests until he sees the stare you've got at his fuzzy chest.. you look like you're about to eat him alive and now he's nervous about what you're thinking.

about 30 minutes out you and chris get ahead of josh and sam a bit and decide to chat- you feeling quite blunt and bold ask him why he'd never taken his shirt off infromt of you prior

"So- have you just never.. taken your shirt off infront of me because.. you're a furry animal?"

"W-well- hey!- jesus that's a bit harsh..."

"... i didn't say that was a bad thing did i?"

".. no.. no you didn't actually- does this not weird you out?"

" jokes on you i'm into that"

"Oh-... Oh?"

"... i said that out loud didnt i?"

"you did..."

"... anyway.. how.. has your week at college been?"

"Mm.. fine, usual stress factors of professors and studies"

You two choose to ignore it.. for now.

You two get back to shore and before you know it you two are making plans for him to come over for lunch- inviting sam and josh only for them to reject politely that they both have plans as well.

No you're throwing on a show you and Chris have binged with the group before and sharing some takeout you picked up on the way back to his place.

You're curious.. and itching.. to run your hands over his fuzzy chest and see where that thick happy trail leads to. you're finding it hard to act normal and sit still..

"H-hey are you- are you okay? you seem really fidgety..."

"Hm? oh.. yeah.. just uh.. thinking about something.."

"...you care to enlighten me on your thoughts?"

"Mm- no- that would be.. a bit weird to you probably"

and he nods his head already knowing what you're thinking of

"Is it the fact you finally saw me shirtless? it's weird- you said you were into it- but if you're just trying to make me feel b-"

"- can i feel it?"

"can- can you-- what?"

"... nevermind."

"Nono- i just.. you want to touch my obnoxiously hairy chest? i've never been asked that by a girl-"

"- you dont need too it- it's fine i was just.. joking..."

"... no you weren't."

" No i wasnt."

Now you're in his lap on his couch running your hands up his shirt while he breathes hard and his hands slowly find comfort on your thighs

"Whoa.. it's really soft.."

".. oh jesus you're treating me like im some mythical beast-"

".. yeah i absolutely am.. i dunno.. maybe you are some type of secretly massive furry beast.."

"In bed sur-"

"- OH?"

"I DIDNT MEAN TO SAY THAT"

"... show me?"

"what?"

"You claimed to be a beast in bed.. prove it"

"I-is this- real?"

"Yeah.. can i take off your shirt, Chris?"

"J-jesus.. yeah.."

Now you're riding him. and his happy trail is brushing up on your cunt just right while you dig your nails into his broad, bulky shoulders. both of you gasping and moaning while the loud wet noises of your bodies fills his small campus apartment.

"Ch-Chris!-"

"-Yeah- ohh shit.. yeah?"

"T-this prove how much i-mm!- like your h-hairy self?"

"Mmh! Mmhm! yes! yes it d-does!"

Running your smaller hands through his huge chest- the soft golden hair paring perfectly with your skin tone as you grab at his chest to fuck yourself harder onto his lap- leaning forward to kiss him until youre both sloppily moaning into eachothers mouths- babbling about how close you are to cumming together

you're welcome.. ho...

[writing-whump]

A Sick Man’s Patience

Have Arnie visiting a still recovering Isaiah while in a not-so-quiet argument with Hector. Angst ensues.

"How could we not notice you were sick?" Arnie asked for the umpteenth time.

Arnie had come to Isaiah cause he wanted a change of scenery under the pretense of getting help with an exam question.

Isaiah did the exams of the first law school year as a side thing next to his psychology master degree. What Arnie was struggling with was something Isaiah did with a shrug and nearby, like it wasn't difficult as hell.

Arnie knew he wasn't stupid, but moments like these made him feel like Isaiah was on another level of genius.

Really, the youngest Wolfson thought it would be easy. He would surprise Isaiah home, get some questions answered and inconspicuously asked about his opinion about the dorms. Easy.

Except Isaiah had been sick, the apartment was a mess and Arnie's surprise turned out to be more of a bother. Like he came demanding study sessions from sick people.

How was he supposed to know?

Isaiah changed out of pyjamas at the sight of him, but he wasn't feeling well enough to forgo a bathrobe on top of the sweater he was wearing. To be fair, the bathrobe was nice, huge and super formal looking, but it was still a glaring reminder Isaiah wasn't 100% yet.

Isaiah was also leaning heavily with both elbows on the table supporting his cheek on one palm— which was something unspeakable under normal circumstances. "We were handling it."

"Oh, we were handling it," Matthew repeated sarcastically behind them. He was putting dishes out of the dishwasher with excessive strength. "Shame I didn't notice that sooner."

Isaiah just sighed.

Arnie turned around to face the red wolf. "Then why didn't you let us know? We would have...done something."

Matthew scoffed in Isaiah's direction and continued washing the sink like it personally offended him.

And Seline was an entirely different problem. She actually yelled when he came, only in her PJs on the extended sofa, unwashed hair in a loose ponytail and had been throwing lighting bolts at Arnie since.

"You could have at least called if we are in a shape for a visit." She was clumsily trying to fold the blankets and return the sofa to its normal stare. Arnie was tempted to go help her, cause it still seemed to have been a straining tast for her, but also didn't dare to get closer.

"Or asked if we didn't need anything to buy," she continued. "This isn't a train station you can just barge into whenever you want. People have their privacy."

Arnie chewed on his lip, feeling stupider by the second. So he did the usual thing, when he was feeling guilty. "Jesus, aren't you overdoing it a little? It's not such a big deal. So your hair is greasy and you have a bathrobe. Get over it. No one cares about it anyway."

Seline's cheeks heated up and she threw the pillow against the sofa. "You are so rude-"

"Alright," Matthew interjected, positioning himself between the two. "Arnie didn't know. He will be more careful next time. You can crash in our room...?"

Seline rolled her eyes. "I can get up the stairs again, thank you."

Arnie turned away from her stomping her way upwards. "Was she always this bitchy? It sure got worse after the break up-"

There was painful wet impact against the back of his head. Matthew smacked him with a wet kitchen towel.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

Matthew gave him a nasty glare. "Don't talk like that about her or I'll give you an actual problem to worry about." He threw a look over Arnie's head towards Isaiah, scoffed and stomped off as well.

Arnie looked towards Isaiah who was strangely quiet through it all. Was he supposed to feel guilty or look for sympathy?

Isaiah sat in the same position, leaning against his hand, though now his other was massaging the left side of his chest and frowning.

"You okay?"

Isaiah opened his eyes at him with slow, deliberate effort. "I'm not really in shape for conflict right now. I'm happy to help you out with this and all, but be a little gentle with me today?"

"O-okay." Arnie was stunned by the request as much as the admittance. Was this a win for them that Isaiah was finally admitting when he wasn't feeling well or a cause for worry it was that bad for him to do it? "Was the...the fever that bad?"

Isaiah gave a tiny shrug, still rubbing at the sore spot at his chest. "Puts extra strain on the heart. I guess it's the most exhausting to me." His lips were pressed together in a thin line.

Arnie nodded, swallowing down. He had wanted to discreetly ask Isaiah about his dorm moving idea and get support from him against Hector's fussing...but it seemed today just wasn't going to be his day. "We can also forget about the studying thing too, if you are still feeling tired."

"Nah, it's alright. I can do these just fine." Isaiah leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. "Read the example out loud and then find the corresponding section in the crime law that fits it the best."

Arnie looked back at the textbook he brought with him, simultaneously opening the law book as well, squinting at the tiny letters. "Yeah, but there are so many of them to choose from..."

"It doesn't matter as much what you choose but how you can argue about it."

Arnie rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "But shouldn't you look for like...objective reality?"

Isaiah chuckled, eyes still closed. "There is no such thing as that. But read the example again. Every word in that report matters. It gives you hints on the most likely law to apply."

Before Arnie could question that further, the front door suddenly slammed open hard enough to rattle the walls.

"So this is where you snuck off to," Hector said, amber brown eyes glistening yellow with anger as he stormed in.

Isaiah opened his eyes, straightening in the chair. "Was it a secret?"

"Of course not!" Arnie hunched his shoulders. "Not like I didn't message him where I was."

Hector stopped halfway through the living room, raising a blond eyebrow at the mess. "What the fuck?"

Arnie cringed, but this really wasn't on him was it?

Hector went white with realization but then took a deep breath and bit down the anger, going almost red from the effort. "I'm not gonna ask why you didn't call us when you were sick, cause you keep doing the same mistake and expecting an idiot to change is mine."

Arnie felt Isaiah freezing next to him, but Hector didn't wait for his answer. He shrugged off his jacket and shoes and started to wrestle with the blankets and pillows to clear the sofa, before attacking the mess on the table.

Isaiah tiled hsi head to the side at that, looking more curious than offended. "What is he doing?"

Arnie leaned closer conspiratively. "I think he is proving the necessity of his presence by cleaning."

Hector's head jerked up at that, like a wolf's ear turning towards a sound. "Where exactly are your manners, huh? Why are you giving him tasks instead of helping out? Honestly out of the three of us, only I was given common sense..."

Isaiah actually laughed at that. "When did he become so mature?"

Arnie had to join in on the laughter. "Oh, it's all the mysterious girlfriend's fault. Half a year later and Hector is getting the hang of his temperament."

Isaiah's eyebrows shot up. "Girlfriend? Since when? What?"

Arnie was immensely enjoying himself being the most informed. "I'm not exactly sure, because he keeps hiding her like she will turn into sand if you look at her, but she is definitely an influence. Quite the soft power." Arnie smiled in Hector's direction with a dreamy sight. "I'm so happy for him! For real, the best I can do for the lovebirds is to clear the space and move out, isn't it?"

He meant it as a joke. Maybe a subtle hint. Wasn't Hector supposed to be glad their life circumstances aligned so much? Arnie wanted to try out college life at the dorms, and Hector wanted to have his girl over. Ideal.

Except Hector didn't find it amusing. He dropped the dirty mugs into the kitchen sink, almost breaking them to pieces, before whirling around. "What did you say?!"

Isaiah looked perplexed like an owl. "You want to move out?"

Arnie focused on the undecided party like a good politician. "I have been thinking about it? Like the semester is going well, but because I live so far away I have to commute a lot to campus and I can't really take part in the social life if I'm constantly locked up at the pack building, right?" He was aware he was speeding up, but he couldn't stop. "So I wanted to move into the student dorms on the way. That should be possible, right? It'll still be in Hector's region, but it will be closer and I'll get to meet actual students of my age and-"

"Not a chance," Hector cut in. "Too dangerous. Forget about it."

Arnie looked at Isaiah. "What do you think? Would it be possible?"

There was a long pause heavy with tension as the blond and dark-haired wolf stared at the human between them.

Isaiah looked up as he thought, rubbing at his chin. "I mean...I wasn't expecting that, but it should be possible. It's not like they will know who you are and those that will should be too scared of both Hector and me to actually try anything." He met Hector's burning eyes. "With some safety measures in place, I think it's doable."

Hector’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He returned his attention to Arnie with a death glare he used to remind wolves under him of how small and insignificant they were. It was very much an authority move in wolf terms.

Arnie returned it without hesitation.

"How could you say it's because of Olive? You can't possibly-" Hector deflated a little at the words, hurt flashing in his eyes. "You think I would ever choose a girl over you? That I would kick you out just to give her room? How could you think that?"

Arnie swallowed, surprised by the change of tactics. Instead of getting angry, Hector was getting emotional. "Hex. Geez. You are not a divorced father who has to convince his kid to forgive him interests in other people. We are adults. You like that girl and I'm happy for you. It doesn't have anything to do with me wanting to move out."

Hector's brows furrowed. "Then why? Why are you insisting on this nonsense?!" He hit his closed fist against the counter.

Isaiah looked very unimpressed. "I don't quite understand the problem here. Socializing and trying out new environments is a good idea for him. I like it."

A muscle twitched in Hector’s jaw. "You. Stay out of it."

"Why should he?" Arnie said. "He can judge the risks well-"

"Oh yeah, Isaiah is so great, does everything right all the fucking time." Hector's voice was rougher now. "Very easy for him to be perfect when he was never there long enough to mess anything up."

Arnie's eyes went wide. "Hex, that’s just unfair—"

"Don’t you think you’re overreacting?" Isaiah’s said, voice low and controlled. But there was something new in his eyes. A warning.

Hector bared his teeth. "I don’t want to hear the opinion of someone who left us the first chance he got. What would you know?"

The chair scraped against the floor as Isaiah pushed to his feet, towering slightly over Hector.

"Say that again."

Hector stepped closer. "I said-"

"Sorry, I was busy taking the physical abuse of our father at the time so that neither of you would get hurt." Isaiah's voice was very calm and quiet compared to Hector's. Didn't stop the room from turning to ice.

Arnie’s breath hitched, caught in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was even breathing.

Hector seemed to have snapped out of his red fog, taking a few steps back. His fingers twitched at his sides like they weren’t sure whether to ball into fists or reach for something unseen.

"And that I left so you could grow up in a safe pack instead of running away while it was tearing itself in half," Isaiah continued. "Truly, I have done nothing but enjoyed getting beat up, cast out, and fucking up my health for good in the process. What would I know about caring about someone, huh?"

Hector was backing away until he bumped against the kitchen counter, his hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His lips parted in a silent exhale, but no words came.

"For your information," Isaiah continued, his voice colder than Arnie had ever heard it, "it's way harder to hide the pain than to take it out on others."

A ringing silence followed, the air thick with something unspoken, but Isaiah didn’t fill it.

A blue vein pulsed on his forehead. His breathing was steady, but just barely.

Then, finally, he rubbed a hand over his face, as if wiping away the last remnants of the fight. "I told you to take it easy on me today," he said towards Arnie.

He turned, moving past Hector like he wasn’t worth another glace.

The black-haired wolf stopped just before disappearing into his room. This time, his voice was soft. Almost too soft.

"You know why I never call you?"

He didn’t look back, didn’t wait for Hector to answer.

"You always kick me when I'm down."

And the door shut behind him.

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

the bodyguard | part 1

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Famous!reader AU

After joining Maverick's security team once he left the navy, Rooster had become the best bodyguard around. He never thought too hard about it, he'd go in, protect whoever he was assigned, and leave. The threat against his client never really went anywhere if he was on the job, and he always put it first. All until your assignment came along. Suddenly his biggest threat might not be the stalker watching your every move, but rather trying not to fall for the world's biggest pop star.

warnings: stalker, threats, anything else let me know

length: 3.7k

masterlist

Rooster sat in Maverick's office, his foot tapping away on the floor. He'd gotten the call to meet him an hour ago and had rushed straight over. Judging by Maverick's shaky voice on the phone, he had a feeling this assignment would be a good one. Although he knew he should be worried, he couldn't help but feel excited - maybe he'd be protecting someone important, like the president or the pope or something. 

Okay, that was a little farfetched, but hey, a guy could dream. 

After a few minutes, Maverick briskly walked in, "Sorry I'm late, kid." he grunted, sitting down behind his desk and running a hand over his face. Rooster hadn’t seen him this stressed in a while, even after that time Coyote had forgotten his gun at his last assignment.  

Maybe it was the president after all. 

"No problem." Rooster shrugged, "So, what's this about?" 

Maverick sighed and said nothing, instead sliding a file across his desk. 

When Rooster picked it up and flipped to the first page, he was greeted to a picture of you. It was from the cover of some magazine and you were smiling happily as you posed next to the headline. 

NEW ABLUM ANNOUNCEMENT? READ ALL ABOUT IT INSIDE. 

He recognized your face immediately, hell, who wouldn't? You were practically one of the biggest pop stars on the planet right now. 

"You know her?" Maverick asked. 

Rooster nodded slowly, his eyes still scanning over the photo. He'd heard some of your songs when he'd let his radio play in the car, and of course, he'd seen you on TV and social media, since you were pretty hard to miss. It seemed there was always news about you, but he couldn’t say he took much notice of it.  

Maverick sighed, "Her manager is an old friend of mine, he called me this morning. She's in danger... and it's not good." 

Rooster finally looked up to Maverick, "Danger? You can't be serious.” He snorted and chuckled to himself, “She's a celebrity, Mav." 

"A celebrity with a stalker." Maverick always got straight to the point when it came to assignments. It was one of the things Rooster liked about him. 

"A stalker?" Rooster repeated, his interest now piqued. 

Maverick nodded, "Apparently she's been receiving creepy fan mail for months, but no one thought anything of it. That was until... her house was broken into last night." 

Rooster's eyes narrowed slightly at that, and he felt his concern grow. "Is she alright?" 

Maverick shook his head, "Physically, she's fine, no reports of injury. However, the security footage from the surveillance cameras outside her property are missing, looks like they were tampered with." 

Rooster ran a hand through his hair, mulling over the facts that were being laid out in front of him, "And they haven't found the guy yet?" 

Maverick sighed, "No, that's why her manager is so freaked out. Her security team have been trying to piece together what happened, but nothing conclusive has come up yet. She’s also set on keeping all of this quiet from the media, which is stressful in itself." 

Rooster grunted in agreement, "Cant blame her for that. The media would have a field day with this if they found out." He leaned back in his chair, still holding the file, with a contemplative look on his face, "So, we need to get her some extra security." 

Maverick nodded slowly, his eyes studying Rooster. "Exactly. She needs someone close to her at all times. A bodyguard.” He paused. “Think you're up to it?" 

Rooster arched an eyebrow, "Me?" he asked, "Mav, this is a celebrity we're talking about. A big one. I don't wanna be some pop star's babysitter. I can help get all the security measures in place, make sure her house is more secure, but-" 

Maverick interrupted, "You're the best on the team for this, Rooster. You think ahead, you're focused, you're exactly what she needs." 

Although he appreciated the praise, which he wouldn’t deny was true, the thought of being around a spoiled popstar indefinitely was not something he liked the idea of. "You really don't think someone like... I don't know, Hangman, wouldn’t be better suited for a job like this?" 

Maverick scoffed, "I'm gonna pretend you didn't suggest that." he muttered.  

Rooster didn’t have to ask why, Hangman was a good bodyguard, a great one at times, but he was also reckless. The number of times he’d had an ass kicking from Maverick was off the charts. 

He sighed, taking a moment to think things over. His gaze wandered back down to the file and your photo.  

After a brief pause, he snapped the file shut and met Maverick's eyes. 

"Alright. I'll do it." 

— 

"Please don't argue with me on this."  

Iceman paced in front of where you lay casually on a sun bed in front of your pool. Your sunglasses blocked out the bright LA sun, and you flicked through some magazine detailing the latest celebrity gossip. You were barely reading it at this point, only wanting to see the parts that included you. Most of it was full of crap, but annoyingly, you loved to know what people were saying and thinking of you. 

Of course, right now it was also a great distraction. 

You rolled your eyes and sat up on the sun bed, placing the magazine on the floor next to you. "I don't want some ex-navy man following me around everywhere for the next who knows how long, Ice! I can handle this just fine by myself-" 

"No. You can't." Iceman replied sternly, stopping in front of you with his arms crossed, "Some psycho broke into your house! Do you even realize what could have happened? That he could have hurt you?" 

You looked away, suddenly feeling suffocated by the 'what-ifs' running through your mind. 

Iceman sighed and sat down on the end of the sun bed in front of you, his voice turning softer, "I know you're set on getting through this alone, and I know you, so I know there's no changing your mind about that." he chuckled lightly, "But it wouldn't hurt to have some extra protection. Plus, Mav's an old friend of mine, he wouldn't send someone he didn't think could do this right."  

He had a point, you knew that. Iceman always talked happily about his days at Top Gun, so it was clear whoever Maverick was sending was someone he trusted, maybe someone you could trust too. 

Not that you would make it easy. 

His eyes were pleading with you as he added, "Just trust me on this, okay? Do it for my peace of mind." 

That was really what got you to agree.  

Iceman had been your manager since you started out in the music industry, a young teenager with a big voice and loads of stupid dreams. Of course, they weren't stupid back then, and Ice had made most of them come true for you. Since you didn’t hear much from your dad at all, not after he’d set up home in Hawaii anyway, Iceman was way more like a father to you. If he felt better knowing that you had someone watching your back, then hell, you'd do it for him. 

You huffed and pushed your sunglasses up onto your head, "So, when does this bodyguard arrive?"

"He's flying out to LA as we speak." 

— 

The flight to Los Angeles seemed to zip by.  

Rooster sat in his seat with a faint sense of nerves. He'd never really been nervous for an assignment before, but then again, he'd also never had to protect a world-famous celebrity either.  

A world-famous celebrity with a stalker. Go figure.

He looked out of the window as the sprawling skyline of LA came into view, and his mind started to wander back to the picture in the file Maverick had showed him, the file that was still stuffed in his bag somewhere.  

You’d looked so happy on the cover of that magazine, so happy that it almost didn’t look real. Of course, he knew that most of the celebrity world was built on false publicity, that was why he stayed as far away from it as he could. 

Until now. 

After the plane touched down at LAX, Rooster made his way through the airport in a blur, preoccupied with the task ahead. His mind finally slowed down when he saw an older man in a suit and chauffeur’s cap waiting for him outside, holding up a piece of paper with his name neatly printed on the front. 

Rooster approached him and the man grinned, "Rooster?" he asked, holding up the sign. Rooster nodded and the man sighed in relief, "Thank goodness, I was worried I'd miss your plane. Parking here is not a walk in the park, let me tell you that." he chuckled and held out his hand, "The name's Ben, I'm the personal driver, or chauffeur, if you wanna be fancy about it." 

Ben was an older man who had a wise look behind his eyes that reminded him a little of Maverick. Like he knew things that he decided to keep tucked away, ready to share only when the time was right. 

Rooster shook Ben's hand, appreciating his friendly personality, "Nice to meet you, Ben. Parking in LA is a pain in the ass. I don't think I ever want to drive in this city." 

Ben chuckled, "After 30 years, you get used to it. But luckily for you, you won't have to. Car's over this way."  

Rooster nodded and followed him towards a black SUV with blacked out windows to match. He thought they must have been to block out the paparazzi and he wondered how often you had to deal with things like that. 

He sat down in the passenger seat next to Ben as he began the drive. 

"So, how long have you been her driver?" Rooster asked, looking out the window at the city whizzing by. 

Ben glanced at him from behind the wheel, "Quite a few years now. She takes care of me, I gotta say. Keeps me on my toes, but its's never boring." he chuckled. 

Rooster couldn't help but smile at his lighthearted remark, "Sounds like you've got your hands full with her." 

Ben grinned, "You could say that. But honestly, she isn't as wild as the media likes to make out. She's got a good head on her shoulders and a good heart too, she's a fighter, a tough bird, that's for sure." 

Rooster thought back to the headlines he’d seen about you in passing. Rumors about who you were dating, if you wrote your own songs, if you’d ever settle down and get married, were followed by pictures of you out and having a good time, drink in hand, and harsh words about how you’d ‘taken it too far’. 

It seemed tiring. 

He nodded slowly, keeping his tone casual, "Seems like she's got a reputation, I mean, she's constantly in the spotlight." 

"Oh, for sure. She's definitely got the media attention thing down, but don't believe everything you hear. The media tends to exaggerate things or twist the truth a lot of the time. It's how they operate, unfortunately." Ben explained, "They'll do anything for a good story." 

Rooster couldn’t help but ask, "So, what's she really like? Behind all the fame and notoriety." 

A knowing smile played on Ben's lips, "When you get to know her, she's a real sweetheart. Good sense of humor, always down for a laugh, and when she sets her mind to something, she goes after it with everything she's got. She's headstrong, no doubt about it." 

Rooster absorbed Ben's words, feeling a slight sense of respect for you already as he turned his head to gaze back out of the window, "Sounds like a force to be reckoned with." he muttered to himself. 

— 

Eventually, the car turned off into a large neighborhood, where none of the houses were visible past the greenery that shrouded the paths leading to them. Ben drove down one of the paths that led to a gate, where there was an intercom hooked up to the wall. So far, your security was looking good to Rooster, which only made him wonder how your house was broken into in the first place. 

As the intercom buzzed and the gate opened, Ben drove through, following the path onto your driveway. Rooster’s eyes widened as he took in your home. In the middle of the driveway was a fountain with some fancy statue built into it, your house was surrounded by trees and bushes, and large steps led up to the front door.  

The house itself was huge, your typical celebrity home it seemed. Rooster didn’t even want to guess how many rooms it had. Its size and grandeur already took his breath away, "Damn, this is some house." 

Ben stopped the car by the front steps, "Sell as many records as she has, houses like this are nothing.” He climbed out of the car and walked around it to open Rooster's door. 

Rooster climbed out too, looking up at the steps that lead to the front door in awe. He was starting to feel way out of his league, the house like nothing he'd seen up close before. 

Before he could respond to Ben, the front doors opened, and a man jogged down the steps towards them, "You must be Rooster!" 

Rooster nodded, "That's me."  

The man stopped in front of him and smiled, "Mav said you'd grown, but I honestly didn't believe him." he held out his hand, "Tom Kazansky, but call me Iceman." 

Rooster's eyes flashed with recognition, "Iceman? You were a legend at Top Gun.” he grinned and shook his hand, “You used to fly with Mav, right?” 

Iceman chuckled, "That’s right. Flew with him and your father back in the day.” He paused a little awkwardly, “He was a good man."  

Rooster was slightly taken aback by the mention of his dad and he quickly cleared his throat and changed the subject, like he usually did anytime someone brought him up. "So, you're the manager?" 

"I am." Iceman glanced at Ben, "Thanks for picking him up, Ben, leave the suitcases on the drive, I'll get someone to grab them." he turned back to Rooster, "Follow me." 

Rooster looked back at Ben, who gave him a little thumbs up as he began to unload his suitcase from the trunk. He chuckled and waved, before following Iceman up the steps and into the mansion. 

Once inside, his eyes darted around the foyer, taking in every detail. Iceman turned to him, "So, I take it Maverick filled you in on the situation we have here." 

Rooster's expression grew more serious as he switched gears, "I've got the gist of it. Stalker, break-in, creepy letters." 

Iceman seemed to relax slightly at Rooster's words, a hint of relief in his eyes, "Good. I'm glad Mav was upfront with you. It's a serious issue, but we're doing everything we can to ensure her safety." 

"That's good to hear." Rooster nodded, "I take my assignments seriously. Her safety is my top priority." 

"Good." Iceman nodded back curtly, leading him through the house and gesturing to various rooms, "We've upped the security all over the place. Extra cameras, better locks, the works. We're not taking any chances." 

As they walked, Rooster's gaze occasionally drifted to some of the artwork and decor, taking everything in. It was fancy and probably expensive, but somehow the place still had a cozy feel to it. "All this extra security, and yet someone managed to get in here the other night?" he asked, skepticism in his voice. 

Iceman sighed, "That's the million-dollar question. We have no idea how they got past all our security measures. It's frustrating, to say the least." 

Rooster's eyes narrowed slightly, "No alarms, no signs of any forced entry?" 

"No." Iceman huffed, "Its like they just materialized out of thin air, it's been driving us all crazy." 

Rooster could sense the helplessness in Iceman's tone, and his jaw tightened a bit. The lack of clear answers didn't sit right with him either, and was already starting to feel impatient. "That's not good." he replied bluntly. 

"Believe me, it's not." Iceman sighed, "The police are working on it, but it's like hunting a ghost. We've never had it go this far before. I mean, sure, every celebrity gets weird fan mail now and again, but a break-in? And you know the weirdest part?" He paused, "He didn't touch her, didn't hurt her at all. Just left a note and some photos by her pillow-" 

"Photos?" Rooster frowned, Maverick hadn’t mentioned that. "Can I see them?" 

Iceman led him into the kitchen, where the photos were left scattered on the marble island in the middle. Rooster peered over at them, and felt tense as the situation seemed to get more complicated.  

They looked to be old family photos, from way before your career skyrocketed. One was of you as a kid, sat by a piano and grinning as you played, another looked like it was from Christmas, judging by the wrapping paper scattered around you and the Santa hat hanging off your pigtails. 

In all of them, you were young, and Rooster had a feeling that these couldn’t be easily accessible to the general public. That made his gut twist. 

Iceman seemed to see the confusion etched on Rooster's face, "See what I mean? This doesn't make sense." 

Light footsteps were heard from the hallway, and the two paused, turning towards the door to the kitchen. 

Rooster hadn't known what he was expecting, but whatever it was, you weren't it. You stood casually, leaning against the doorframe, wearing sweats and an oversized t-shirt, far from the glamorous pictures Maverick had given him in the file. Your hair was left free and flowing, and you looked slightly younger without all of the makeup he was used to seeing you in on TV or in magazines. Naturally, you were pretty, that much was obvious, and Rooster could barely take his eyes off you. 

You crossed your arms, "Am I interrupting something?" 

He quickly composed himself, straightening up as Iceman responded, "Of course not. I was just showing Rooster around a little bit. He's the new bodyguard we talked about, remember?" 

Your eyes shifted to Rooster with a hint of suspicion. He didn’t look much older than you, and seemed to be studying you with an intense curiosity. You nodded a little, "I remember." 

Rooster forced himself to remain calm and professional as he held out a hand, "Good to meet you." 

You glanced down at his hand and back to him, "You too." you muttered. You felt a little mean ignoring his clear attempt at being friendly, but you couldn’t find the will to care.  

Rooster frowned a little and pulled his hand back. You could feel Iceman’s stern stare, likely scolding you for not being polite, but you ignored it, keeping your eyes trained on Rooster.  

There's a momentary pause as the three of you stood in a tense silence. Iceman broke it with a half smile, "Rooster is the son of an old friend of mine, like I told you. He's one of the best." 

Your eyes drifted over Rooster once again, still cautious as you nodded a little, "That's good." 

Rooster couldn't help the flicker of annoyance that crossed his features at your dismissive attitude. He held your gaze with a cool, even stare. 

Iceman quickly broke the tension again, "I gotta get going, got some meetings and paperwork and such. You two good here?" 

Rooster nodded, his mind preoccupied, "We're good. Thanks Ice." 

"No problem." Iceman muttered, walking towards the doorway and stopping to lean down and whisper to you, "Please, try to be nice."  

You sighed and nodded, still not fully on board with having a bodyguard at all. It felt like you were being babied and your privacy totally invaded. You didn’t care if the tall, muscular, mustached man stood in front of you was the son of an old friend of Iceman’s, an ex-pilot, a Top Gun graduate; it didn’t matter. No matter how many good things Iceman tried to tell you, you were dead set on dealing with this stalker by yourself. 

That was what you were used to, after all. 

Iceman strode out of the room, leaving you and Rooster in another tense silence. 

Rooster couldn't help but feel frustrated, he wasn't expecting a massively warm welcome, but anything better than what he’d gotten would have been nice. He was doing you the favor here, so there was no way he’d let some spoiled pop star look down on him. "So, that's how you greet all your bodyguards?" 

You thought for a second you might not have heard him correctly, his tone sharp and scolding. He had no right to talk to you like that, hell, Iceman barely spoke to you like that, and you’d definitely grated on his nerves more than once. 

Your eyes narrowed slightly, "Excuse me?" 

Rooster rolled his eyes, "Your... less than warm reaction." he clarified, gesturing with his hand, "I'm here to protect you, but you seem unimpressed." 

Your annoyance grew and you scoffed, "I'm only letting you be here because Ice wants you here. I definitely don’t." 

Rooster's jaw tightened a little at your words, his expression hardening a bit. The blatant honestly stung a little, but he refused to show it, "Thanks for making that clear." he muttered. 

You rolled your eyes, "Just don't get in my way, alright?" 

Roosted gritted his teeth, his annoyance mounting and your attitude starting to get under his skin, "Don't worry, I won't get in your way." he said with a biting tone. 

You nodded curtly and quickly turned and left the kitchen, leaving Rooster's eyes lingering on your retreating form. He let out a frustrated sigh, irritation simmering beneath the surface.  

“Well, that went well." he muttered to himself, turning back to the kitchen island.  

Any respect he’d felt for you after Ben’s words in the car was long gone. You seemed like a typical spoiled brat, and he definitely wouldn’t be dealing with an attitude like yours for long, not if he had anything to say about it. 

His eyes fell back onto the photos as he looked over them again.  

How the hell was he going to protect you if you didn’t want to let him? 

---

A/N: what do we think of part 1? :)) hope you all liked it! gonna try to update twice a week! Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

taglist:

@jessevans

@flowery-mess

@emma8895eb

@khouse712

@grimpowrrs

@randomfangirlof

@kvmitchell

[catastrxblues]

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[sskk-manifesto]

--

[notyoinara]

alice yabusame art marathon 2024 has ended early.........it's okay there's always next year

[realmikedirnt]

going to experiment with putting these under a cut ? and if it doesnt spark joy it'll go back to uncut, they're all tagged so /shrug

w's for yesterday: i got mary ellen's water pump and serpentine belt back on myself, and they seem to be holding up wonderfully

managed to make it to class on time despite it all

helped a classmate understand how to balance chemical equations

felt like i contributed well to class & lab

killed the ender dragon with rng

hung out with raid friends and we actually got a pretty rare drop for one person who had been fishing for it - we were all so worn out that we barely celebrated at all, but it was still a nice time !

w's for today: first week of classes done !

all of my english work for the weekend is done

figured out what the code mary ellen has been throwing is - still the evap leak, which IS a problem, but it's not a "engine blowing up" problem, so i'll do some diag on it the next time i get a chance. the light just kinda goes on and off whenever she thinks it's too big of a problem, and i suspect it's the cap, so

spent some nice time with the rng crew

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ugghhh wintertime sucks!! I'm sad and tired and sad all the time.. I need a nap.. and f/o cuddles.. and another nap..

[keypostos]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[adore-gregor]

my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni