#precisely why you should work with me honey

[kuro-ousama]

Came for the gambles, stay for the dealer babes.

[slightlypossessed]

Synopsis — Spencer's favourite meal (aka dr reid eats pussy)

Who? — Dr. Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

18+ content — MDNI

small drabble post bcs pussy drunk Spencer is on the brain <3

"Spencer," you whine, "no more, please,"

"C'mon, baby," his voice is desperate and pained, as if he's the one who's been mercilessly toyed with this past hour or so. "One for more for me, sweetheart," he licks a long strip along your cunt, "one more."

But it was one more an orgasm ago. In fact, it was one more three, four, five orgasms ago.

Distantly, somewhere in the back of your frazzled and half-mush brain, you wonder if his jaw is sore – if he's really enjoying it as much as his humping and moaning seem to be giving away. Does he really get this much pleasure out of something as simple as eating you out?

But it's not that simple, no– not to Spencer.

For Spencer, it's the concept of your pleasure, the show you unawaredly put on: the hitches in your breath each time he puts his tongue on your clit again, the low moan when he sucks, the breathy please as you beg him to go faster. The way your hips circle and stutter beneath the hold his arms have on them, it's the way you sigh his name – low and dreamy as your back arches of the sheets when he makes you cum.

Spencer enjoys it all – craves it all, always. He's barely even lucid at this point. Your slick a most sweet elixir, throwing him deeper and deeper into a lust-filled haze till he's mindlessly rutting into the mattress and moaning into your core.

He wants to taste you again, taste your sweet liquor as you cum for him, again.

How can he not when your so pretty like this? taste as addictive as you do? make him feel half-insane as you moan out his name and grind your hips down onto his tongue – greedily asking for more, always wanting more, just as he so desperately does. You're the same as him, you want more, more, more – and he'll always so oh, so eagerly provide.

Your thighs are wet and sticky and Spencer seems to revel gleefully in the fact – he's made them like this, he's why your cunt is wet with slick, why your face is covered in tears and few smudges of mascara.

Spencer's mouth is hot on your pussy as he continues his work. He plunges two long and slender fingers inside of your, hooking them up as he moves them in-and-out, all the while sucking on your swollen clit.

"fuck," your back bows off the mattress. You're already so close – was close the moment he put his tongue on you again not even a second after your last orgasm.

"Spencer, please–" you don't know what you plea for – don't know if it's for mercy or for damnation. You're not sure if you should pull his head closer by the hand in his hair, or move away to stave off your orgasm. You're not sure you can handle more, even if you want it, you can't guarantee that another orgasm won't break you. But it doesn't matter, Spencer's movements are relentless, and either way he'll get you there – he needs to make you cum. Your hand in his hair remains neutral.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you can already feel the familiar sweet, honeyed sensation fill you up. Warmth moving through your nerves and seeping deep into your bones. Your eyes are already closed, eyes sightlessly moving around beneath your lids as if caught in a restless dream — and you almost feel like you are in one: some feverish, psychosomatic sex dream.

Spencer efforts double, almost like he can notice the proximity of your orgasm, telepathically able to predict when the sensation is about to flood you even before you've been made aware yourself. His hips grind down harder against the mattress as he, seemingly unaware, tries to make himself cum to the sweet sounds of your pleasure.

His fingers move deeper, motions precise. The pads of his fingers nudge that soft spot deep in your cervix, and your legs are clamping closed, only held open by his bobbing head.

"Spencer!" you moan, "too much, fuck– please, honey, please," soft words bubble from your lips, your brain too pleasure-frazzled to form any other, more coherent requests.

Spencer's fingers continue their movements, his tongue moves up and down your cunt, before he rips out his fingers to stuff his face right in the centre of you to get a good taste, his nose brushing against your clit as he does so. You reward him with a cry, and he gifts you back his own moans. His sounds pressed deep into your cunt, making vibrations reverberate from your core to your chest, wrecking your body tremors as they flow through you.

He sucks and sucks, drinking your juices like a man depraved and dying of thirst. Spencer's always been an eager lover.

The coil begs to snap, stretched far too taught. His tongue plunges deep inside you, tasting along the spongy walls of your cunt.

All it takes is one simple movement from Spencer. His thumb circles your clit once, twice, his nose nudges your clit closer to his thumb – and you're screaming.

"Spencer!" you cry out as your back arches off the mattress completely. Your hips still held down by Spencer's strong arms intertwined around them, holding you hostage to his pleasure.

Moan after moan releases from your throat, mindlessly spoken words mixing in the middle: some please, some Spencers, a few cuss words in the bundle.

Despite the intensity you feel, the electricity that increases second by second, your hips act on a mind of their own. As every alarm in your friend brain goes off, telling you to stop the stimulation before you go insane, your hips yet continue to move, jerky circles following Spencer's still ongoing torment.

And Spencer's doesn't deprive you of any pleasure – his tongue still rapidly laps at your juices. The movements of his thumb on your clit are gentle, however. Slow, deliberate and soft circles.

Spencer doesn't fully slow down though, and before you can consider pulling him away with your weakened grip on his hair, Spencer's movements stutter. His body wracks with tremors, the movements of his mouth on you spasmodic. His hips thrash against the sheets. Spencer's movements are sporadic and shaky as his own cum erupts through his aching, hard cock.

Spencer's eyes roll far back into his skull, and you lean your head down to watch as his back bows while he whimpers and mewls against your pussy as he ruins the fabric of his boxers.

His hips continue to jerk, and he lays some soft, open-mouthed kisses on you as he rides out the high of a most divine feeling.

When his hips still, and sounds come back into focus, Spencer's hands loosen on you as he begins his ascent up your body, too eager to share the sweet taste of you on your tongue.

"mhmm," he hums against your pubic mound, laying a wet kiss as his handa move up to caress your body.

"you made me cum, pretty girl," he whispers against your stomach, you feel the curve of his lips around every word. "fuck, your sweet cunt and pretty sounds made me cum," another kiss laid higher up, "made me feel so good,"

You hum back in reply, unable to fully form a sentence yet.

"Didn't even need to try," he murmurs, and it's true. Spencer can cum from just looking at you, from your soft sounds and breathy whimpers. It's happened before, and it almost happened tonight when you moaned out his name all dreamy and dainty as he made you cum that first time.

"You sounded so pretty, too," his words carry on as his kisses move higher. He lays a wet kiss on your sternum, quickly darting out his tongue to lick a drop of sweat of your skin.

His big hands move all over you, from your hip to around your waist, then up to caress your chest, thumbs running over your nipples, before Spencer decides to taste them instead.

His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he settles himself between your legs.

His takes one breast into his mouth, sucking at the plump skin, head bobbing as he kisses and licks at your chest. His tongue swipes over your nipple, once, twice, three, five times till your hoarse voice whimpers out your pleasure – much to his satisfaction. He moves to repeat the same movements on the other breast.

Once he's satisfied, he releases you with a pop, the sound obscene and loud, contrasting your soft pants.

"Did you feel good, baby?" he speaks the words now against the side of your neck. You nod in response, your jaw softly meeting the side of his face as you do. Spencer chuckles at the contact, and moves out of the cervix of your neck to properly look at you instead.

His brown eyes meet yours. This close, you can make each individual flick of gold in his eyes, each green strand the decorates the brown.

"Tell me," he requests, soft and gentle. He kisses you tenderly on the lips. "tell me how good it felt,"

"So good, Spence," you reply, voice rough with use, whilst you wrap your hands around his neck, one burrowing into his soft curls. His eyes flutter as your nails lightly scrape his skull, and he feels a low buzz at the contact.

"Good," he kisses you again, satiated and satisfied with your answer.

It seems to you like Spencer's gotten his fill, for now. He's only made you cum, what? 5 or 6 times?

He kisses you softly, and you hope that Spencer's settling to rest with you.

He kisses you slow and soft, humming gently against your lips. He lays one kiss on your temple, another on your forehead, and one on each of your closed eyelids as you begin to settle and relax against the pillows, your brain wandering off as you lose time between each kiss and the next; your brain dozes off for half-seconds as the atmosphere quiets.

so calm....so quiet

Your grip on Spencer loosens, the entrancing, post-euphoria haze thickens and stretches time as sounds around you mute and an exhausted smile settles across your face as you give into that weightless feeling and finally rest.

—

Spencer's hands wander downwards, yet again, his fingers settling on your clit as he aligs his once more hard cock with your entrance.

Liked reading this? >> Give this a go

A/N — some late night Spencer thoughts. Been wanting to right for dr. pretty boy for a while now.

+ experimenting with shorter fics now, hopefully I'll write more like this? also it's not properly edited if u can't tell ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

Feedback is always wanted & appreciated!

Requests are open!!

[thecameronchronicles]

Lessons With Mister Cameron

TW: sex without a condom, "public" sex, surrender of virtue, manipulative behavior, dirty talk, vulgarity, rafe is a warning all himself, isn't he?

SUMMARY: You always thought it was a fantasy until he calls you after class to discuss your paper and decides you need a more hands-on approach.

Lessons With Mister Cameron

"Y/N?"

Your eyes rise in a swift snap that stabilize where you actively evade every day in your second class of the day.

Cool blue eyes appearing ready above a smirk widen your own to the particular focus he leaves for you to discern. But it is the particular fullness of those tempting lips on topics that should bore you to death that make you the avid scholar. Only now, the sudden attention from him makes you question the last five minutes of class as you were busy in a daydream of his touch.

In what would be your first touch.

"Once the hour is over, come see me...yeah?" His gold pinky ring catches the light as he rubs his lips, drawing an unfair attention. You can only nod as any words feel jumped on the tip of your tongue. A sheen of something mirroring pride cast in his eyes and it leaves you going over everything you have done for his class.

You wonder if you made a mistake where he will offer extra credit, your mind drifting to a more illicit way your inexperienced body was willing to give it. You fidget in the worry of your lip and fingers in rush through your hair before ultimately coming to the dreaded final moment of the class.

"Remember that my office is closed on Tuesday." He calls to the class, most in a rush to carry on with whatever collegiate party is already beginning across campus. Meanwhile, you wait until the room clears until finally standing.

Your legs feel unstable as you come to his desk as he has his back turned but a smirk in the tilt of of his head as he pulls up a paper.

Your paper.

Of those you have aced, you understand precisely why it is that he holds it with such regard.

"I dont want to have to fail you..." Your breath squeezes only the gasp of an exhale.

"Please Mister Cameron-" His brows knit and his jaw clenches in anger.

"Mister," he unwinds his fists at the title and pulls tension from his neck with a cock of it. "Cameron was my father..." He issues a step forward, expensive cologne awakens your want to humor whatever mischief dances behind his eyes.

"You can call me sir." The swallow is heavy as you nod.

"Y-yes sir."

"You're an innocent little thing aren't you?" He asks in a turn around his desk, the words almost unbelievable if not for the grin lifting half of his mouth in amusement.

"I-"

"You would have to be to misunderstanding the subject. Almost like you haven't...been intimate." You swallow and it meets somewhere against the attempt to breathe until you are rigid.

You wonder if it is obvious.

How can be possibly know you're a virgin from the lacking detail of a paper? Why not just assuming you're a prude?

"Now I can't send you into the world," he extends his hand before leading it back in and loose at his side as if exhausted, "with such a misunderstanding. I need you to sit for me." You begin to step in the direction of the front lecture chair before he makes some call between a whistle and distaste. You see him tapping the edge of his desk.

"Here." There is no honey in his tone. It's more like whiskey and you have an overwhelming pull to be intoxicated by it.

You place your silhouette on that which he summoned before he turns away and begins to write. He could have written the answers to an upcoming test and all you could focus on was the muscles working against the tight fabric of his shirt.

A snap of his fingers tore you from a vision of the fabric around you as you climbed the length of him as he lay outstretched in bed. Maybe this desk-

"Where is that mind running off to? Hmm?" He asks using his pinky to force a look from you. His touch is limited but enough to send sparks instead of blood through your veins.

"I'm...nervous, Mister-" his brow flexes, "sir..."

He seems pleased. Deeply, sinfully, pleased.

"Let us begin with the act itself as you seemed to glaze over the necessary details..." A diagram stands before you; a man and a woman.

"Have you ever been aroused, Miss Y/LN?" You slowly nod. A moment of silence lay between you as if he wants details. A fire behind his eyes validates this before he moves on.

"It happens as the body's response to stimulation. Foreplay can heighten the response-"

"Foreplay?" You almost whisper, the word somehow dirty.

"Yes. What a boy-or girl does to turn you on..." His expression shifts from contentment to intrigue, almost astonishment.

"A kiss, if done right...a caress..." His head cocks as he steps just against the skin of your legs. "Dirty words for innocent minds needing it to get, in your case...wet." You struggle to breathe. His scene, his proximity, the tension, it's all too much.

"It can be anything tender or vulgar, up to the taste of the person. In my experience, it's the gentle stimulation of a girl that makes her the most ready..."

"L-like what s-sir?"

"Like... rubbing her nipples....kissing her neck....juuust tracing her clit." The images flash for all but the last.

"You've never had anyone touch you there before have you, Miss Y/LN." He is impossibly close, the features you managed to fantasize over are amplified until you're breathless.

You can only shake your head, too embarrassed.

"Mmm...There are different kinds of people. Some who like to rush. Some who prefer to take their time. Me, I'm a proactive type of person, but I digress...I prefer to show...not tell...May I?" He motions for your thighs and you nod, your body alive by its own ambition as you can only wait in awe.

Your first touch. From HIM.

"Take your hand and feel." You shouldn't. Someone could come in. Someone could report you or him. He could lose his job. You could get kicked off campus. But the heat behind his eyes makes you tempt the reasons and worries until you're obeying.

"There's so many sensitive little parts there, but my favorite is that little button-" When your eyes are heavy he grins. "There...." His hand is over yours, not touching more than the skin of your fingers and yet it is erotic beyond that of your own touch.

"Do exactly what feels good..." He leans over you, dragging his nose along your shoulder as he inhales.

"Dammit..." You whimper as he looks with lustful eyes narrowed in need.

"Foreplay for a man?" He unbuckles himself, the sound of buckle and stretched vinyl resonate through you.

"To stroke..." He gently escorts your hand, giving plenty of time to pull away, but you only feel beckoned. Only it isn't to wrap around him, he holds your palm upright.

"Spit on it. Get it really wet." You pause before he uses his other hand to your jaw, his thumb guiding your mouth open.

"Tongue out." He spits and you are tempted to swallow the taste of him. You obey instead, as he motions exactly where he wants it. You then lubricate his hand in your dual spittle until he drives it against him.

"Oh yeah...." His head comes back, eyes closed, apple of his throat bobbing in unkempt pleasure. "Rub your thumb over the head-ohhh yeah...yeah yeah yeah..." His brows clench and his jaw falls slack as his eyes open to you, unrecognizable of the man who taught you since early fall.

"Did I say to stop touching that sweet little pussy?" You heat to his words, never heard them towards you, or at all for that matter.

"Keep. Fucking. Rubbing." He issues his order, falling victim to the novice touch sending him into orbit. Such a soft hand on his hard velvet and you feel high knowing you're causing this to him.

"Wh-what else can I do for a man?" He has you standing in a second.

"Your mouth." He pushes you onto your knees, his thick cock dripping and glistening for you.

"And not just a man. Me. Only me. Now open that pretty little throat." He is gentle with your hair in a pet before sliding over your tongue.

"Fuck! How do you know to do that with your tongue?" His eyes turn into slits as he has you against his desk, a cautious hand around your throat.

"Fuck, yes, baby." He manages, the grip worsening but for guidance.

"Just breathe through your nose." The feel of him is madness. You should feel degraded and dirty but you feel empowered and confident, enough to test him. You wrap your tongue around him, using it to taste the veins struggling in pulse against your devoted muscle. You claw at his thighs as he struggles to keep his moans silent and yet neither of you bother to care.

"You lying to me? You let someone between those perfect little thighs? Hmm?"

"N-no!"

He scoffs.

"I bet not even your little fingers know how tight you are. But you're gonna let me know, aren't you?" You nod, hesitation lasting only the duration of doubt silenced by his fingers pushing aside your panties and sheathing inside.

"Oh fuck's sake." He sighs.

"Is it...okay?"

"Okay?! You're so fucking tight I need to get you close or I'm not bust the second I get inside."

"You're gonna..."

"Say it."

"You're gonna fuck me?"

"Just like I've imagined since you first walked into my class. But first. I'm getting you ready because I don't wanna hurt you. At least not yet..." He lowers himself and uses two fingers to beckon you to the edge of the desk. Sitting in his chair as it screams beneath him, he pulls you dependent on his arms as he keeps his eyes on you.

"Another way to stimulate a woman..." He uses the tip of his tongue as his finger holds the panties aside. It's explorative at first until purpose comes when he meets your clit.

"Do not fight it. I need it." He pulls you against his face. "I fucking need it." He proves it in the starvation of his taste. He savors and attacks in equal measure, his mouth never leaving as his hot breath only amplifies the sensation.

"Ohhh yeah baby...ride my fucking tongue." Your body obeys that which you struggle to rein in. He forces your hips when you still, until your body buckles.

"Come! Now!" He growls, vibrations from his order pull you to the edge as his two fingers inside stroke a patch of nerves send you over.

"Oh!" You cry out, his name burning in your throat. "Sir" feels too distant for the way you feel so vulnerable to him.

"I need to be inside you right fucking now." You nod viciously as he stands, not caring to wipe his mouth, as you see yourself having wet him. Curious and looking for an excuse, you pull him to you and kiss him.

"A way to please a girl...kiss." You manage as he growls.

"Fuck!" He takes you against his mouth, pushing himself inside you at the same time to cause a distraction. Immediate pressure stills you as pain lingers in the horizon.

"Fucking is meant to be for procreation but we have fun trying." He scoffs. "You. Nobody else fucking gets to try with you. Got it? You need it, you come to me! Shit!" He recants, pulling out enough to see you coat his cock. "Say it."

"You."

"Good girl." He thrusts, your breath taken as a stinging pain surprises you from the pleasure he brought you.

"That was your hymen. You're gonna be sore and you're still gonna fucking take it." You grip onto his shoulders and feel him take you as he pleases. Your body is wound tight until he kisses your neck, your collarbone, and up around to your ear. You can't adjust to anything as he leads a hand to your throat and guides you backwards until you meet the desk. Papers shove beneath you as he moves with fluid abandon.

Like waves to a shore, if the waves were turbulent from a storm that was Rafe Cameron.

His weight pins you flat in the thrashing you wish to make freely, your thighs shake, and he continues. You try to speak but feel compressed in the need to hear his grunts, so eager and delicious. You wish to taste them but in the try see him reach over you and to the rim of the desk, gripping it tightly.

"Mine. Fucking mine. Pussy-ass, lips, say it. Say you won't leave." There's something sad behind his eyes, former neglect bleeding from his desperations that still come out more as orders.

"I ..I won't."

"Good-ah girl." He hoists your leg over his hip and dives into you.

"That pressure building is an orgasm. Since you already got one...you're gonna wait until I come before you get your next one." He stands between your legs, the sight of him inside you making you gape. His grin should be illegal as he licks his lips and drags his thumb along the swollen bottom half.

He takes your ankles and leads them beside his ears as he uses his forearm to pin your calves to his chest.

"Deeper is always better. You can change angles."

"How many?"

"Don't worry, baby, you're gonna know them all." He leans forward, constricting your breath as he pounds.

"Oh fuck yes..." He seethes behind clenched teeth, such passion masked in vulgarities.

"You feel me? My cum wants to fill you up until it drops down your thighs. Gonna take it? You can also let me...ahh shit ...you can let me fill your mouth or just cover you ..."

"Wherever you want, Sir."

"Ugh fuck-you need to tell me. I need to hear you say it." He grips your neck again, slowly teasing you with slow depth and shallow speed. "I need to see your innocent little lips dirty for me."

"Come inside me!"

"Yeah? You want it inside?"

"Please!"

"Ohhh you're gonna fucking get it...so...fucking...deep." He becomes unhinged, his muscles tightening as he pounds you into the desk. Reports and essays crinkle in ruin beneath you as he burrows into your neck, kissing only to bruise your skin.

"Say it again."

"C-come inside me, sir. Please."

"Take it." He growls. "You're gonna feel it and you're gonna come because I fucking said so. So...come!" He growls, a pressure building from your toes now surges through you completely. The tight coil in your stomach unwinds between your legs and you coat him as he spills inside you.

"Fuck!" He erupts, the tremors of release coursing through you both.

"And now... you have me inside you. And since I didn't use a condom..." Your eyes widen.

"Sir..."

"Naive little Y/N, you're mine now.."

You struggle to rise, half in astonishment and half in fear. Your body aches in the pull he made to your virtue, in smithereens at his hands and beneath his devilish grin.

"You will come back on Tuesday..." You remember him telling the class his office was closed that day.

"But you said..."

"Tuesdays are for us." He kisses your lips, leaving behind a softness unexpected and almost forbidden. He doesn't even bother to look over your shoulder as he leaves but you long to follow him. If not for his words you may have assumed this was a one-time thing. Thankfully in the promise of a few days, you won't have to wait long.

But you know it will slowly chip away at you.

Consume you.

And you look forward to Tuesday above all else just to be touched by Mister Cameron.

MASTERLIST

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.  

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though... 

“Next lad!”  

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.  

“Next lad!” 

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.  

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”  

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”  

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”  

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”  

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.” 

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.  

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.  

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.  

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”  

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”  

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?” 

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”  

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.  

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”  

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.  

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.” 

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.  

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”  

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”  

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”  

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”  

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.  

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.  

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”  

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.  

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes. 

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.” 

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.  

[slayfics]

Katsuki makes you tea.

800 words~

You dropped the bag of tea leaves into your mug watching as the leaves slowly turned the water a different color. Today was filled with long classes and even longer training. It didn't help that you still weren't fully healed from an exceptionally challenging spar with your classmates earlier in the week.

You were excited to bring the tea up to your dorm and finally rest. Suddenly a loud explosion went off startling you and causing you to drop your mug. Your mug dropped and shattered, spilling hot tea and pieces of the mug all over the floor.

You looked up to see Katsuki booming with laughter, "Damn I got you good!" He exclaimed in between his laughs.

You rolled your eyes and bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the mug. Once his laughter subsided, Katsuki bent down and began helping you.

"Can't believe that I scared you that bad," He said mockingly.

You scoffed but ignored his comment, feeling irritated at the delay he caused to you finally getting back to your dorm to relax. Katsuki looked up from the mess to analyze your expression. You usually weren't so curt with him, that was when Katsuki noticed the burn on your arm that was still healing from your spar with him earlier in the week.

"Hey, what the hell? Why don't you have the burn ointment Recovery Girl gave you on that?" He asked.

You shrugged your shoulders as you walked over to the trash to toss the broken pieces of the mug, "It stings when I put it on," you explained.

"Tch- you're such a damn baby. How do you expect to be a pro hero someday if you can't even take care of yourself?" Katsuki barked at you.

Usually, Katsuki's words didn't get to you. You understood his harshness was just his way of caring, but today you were too exhausted to put in the extra effort it took to be patient with him.

"I don't know, I guess I just won't be a pro hero then," You said exhaustedly, grabbing another mug from the kitchen cabinet.

"Hu?" Katsuki grumbled, taken off guard by your defeated response. Your lack of initiative to engage in your usual banter with him made him realize how exhausted you actually were. Ignoring the guilt that bubbled up in his stomach Katsuki yelled at you, "Hey, step aside. I'll do that."

"It's fine I'll make another one, Bakugo," you said stubbornly, heating more water.

"Don't be a brat, give that to me," He said, grabbing the mug out of your hand. "Besides, you were making it wrong. If you're not feeling so well you should add some lemon and honey too," He said as he began to re-make your tea.

“How can you tell I’m not feeling well?” You asked surprised by his accurate observation

“Tch- it’s obvious, it’s all over your damn face. So just- let me make this for you alright,” he said stubbornly.

You couldn't help but giggle and feel your mood begin to shift. While Katsuki's demeanor was harsh as he made your tea, he was extraordinarily detailed. He was careful to make the water not too hot and was particular with the precise amount of lemon and honey he added to the cup.

"The hell are you laughing about?" He asked.

"It's just- you're such a tsundere it's cute," you replied.

"THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!" He yelled.

His strong reaction only caused you to laugh more, "Being mad at being called a tsundere is soooo something a tsundere would do," You teased him.

"Tch whatever- you're just tired as hell and your brain is not working right or something," he complained.

You laughed and went to grab the finished tea from his hand but he pulled it back from you.

"No- I'm walking you to your dorm to make sure you don't drop this one too, you damn klutz," He barked.

"What?! I only dropped it because you scared me!" You argued.

"Make all the excuses you want, I'm still coming up there to make sure you put on that damn burn ointment you baby. I'll do it for you, but I don't want to hear you whining about how much it stings!" He said beginning to make his way to your dorm.

"Tsundere," You whispered under your breath.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY!?" He yelled, turning around the pupils, vanishing in his eyes from anger.

"I said thank you Bakugo," You lied.

"Hmpf- whatever let's go it's late as hell," He said, as you two made your way up to your dorm.

Tags: @derangedmango @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Hey! I hope you're doing well!

I was wondering if you could do a little something with the reader being Gil Galad sister and falling for Celebrimbor everytime they meet (Gil galad teasing his sister about it👀).

Fluff or angst, I let you choose 🫣❤️‍🔥

This was so fun to write!! It might be a bit ooc from Gil Galad but I love the idea of him being an absolute menace to those he's close to.

The Princess of Lindon

The first time you met Celebrimbor, you couldn’t understand why your brother held him in such high regard. Standing in the gilded halls of Lindon, he seemed a touch too serious, his golden hair catching the sunlight in sharp lines that matched the geometric precision of his voice. His words, though, carried weight: precise, deliberate, but never unkind.

“You must be Ereinion’s sister,” he said, bowing his head slightly, though his eyes—bright as polished mithril—never left yours. “He speaks of you often.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, flicking a glance at your brother, who stood at Celebrimbor’s side, his mouth twitching in a barely restrained grin. “I hope only good things.”

Gil-galad didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “I told him you’re stubborn as a dwarf and twice as likely to quarrel.”

“Charming,” you shot back, your tone sweet as honeyed wine, though your gaze lingered a moment too long on Celebrimbor’s face. He was watching you, amused.

In the days that followed, you found yourself seeking his company more than you intended, drawn to his quiet passion for his craft. Each visit to his workshop was another step into a world of firelight and molten beauty. You marveled at the works he created, from delicately wrought circlets to great armaments destined for Elven lords.

“What do you think?” he asked one evening, holding up an unfinished pendant. Its design was intricate, almost fragile—a series of interwoven vines encircling a starburst.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended. When his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you, the heat from the forge wasn’t the only thing warming your cheeks.

+++++++++++

The afternoon sun poured through Lindon’s archways as you descended the steps leading to Celebrimbor’s forge. You had intended to slip away unnoticed, but your brother, as always, had other plans. Ereinion appeared out of nowhere, his long strides carrying him into your path with a smirk that could melt glaciers.

“Off to the forges again, are you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The crown of Lindon glittered faintly in the light, but his expression was anything but regal. Mischief radiated from him like heat from a forge.

You sighed, stepping around him. “Yes, brother, I am. Kindly move.”

“What gift have you for him this time? A poem? Another rare flower?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or are you simply going to gaze at him longingly until he notices?”

Your pace quickened, but he matched you step for step. “Perhaps you should write him a letter, sister. Something heartfelt. I can help! How about—‘Oh, Celebrimbor, your hands of steel and heart of fire have utterly captured me—’”

You stopped abruptly, spinning to face him with a glare sharp enough to rival any blade in Celebrimbor’s workshop. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He grinned unabashedly. “Not when I’m having this much fun.”

“I’ll have you know,” you began, jabbing a finger at his chest, “that your meddling will get you nowhere. Celebrimbor and I are merely—”

“Friends? Colleagues? Acquaintances?” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Sister, even the trees know how you feel. You could outshine the Two Trees with the way you look at him.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but no words came. The accusation struck closer to home than you cared to admit.

Taking your silence as victory, Ereinion leaned down, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Listen, all I’m saying is, if you’re going to keep this up, I expect an invitation to the wedding. I’ll even officiate, if you like.”

You shoved him—gently, though it didn’t stop him from stumbling back a step, laughing as though he’d won some great battle.

“Go bother someone else,” you snapped, marching off toward the forge.

“Don’t keep him waiting!” he called after you, his voice still laced with amusement.

++++++++++

Years passed, and your visits became a quiet ritual. Sometimes you brought small gifts—a poem you’d written, a rare flower you’d found during a walk through Lindon’s forests. Other times, you simply sat in the corner of his workshop, content to watch him work, the rhythmic hammering of metal a soothing cadence.

Gil-galad noticed, of course. He noticed everything.

“Planning on making him a crown, sister?” he teased one afternoon, catching you on your way to Celebrimbor’s forge.

You glared at him. “Planning on minding your own business?”

He feigned a look of shock. “Oh, but it is my business! The sister of the High King consorting with Eregion’s lord? What will people think?”

“They’ll think you’re insufferable.”

“I am insufferable.” He grinned, leaning in. “But at least I’m not pining.”

Your glare could have felled an Orc, but Ereinion only laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting.”

++++++++++

It wasn’t just your brother who noticed. Galadriel, with her piercing gaze and sharp tongue, was impossible to fool. She cornered you one evening after a feast, her eyes gleaming with something dangerously close to amusement.

“Celebrimbor?” she asked bluntly, swirling her wine.

“What about him?” you replied, feigning ignorance.

Her lips curved in a knowing smile. “You watch him as though he’s a riddle you’re trying to solve.”

“And you watch everyone as though you know the answer,” you shot back, though your face betrayed you, the faintest flush creeping up your neck.

She laughed—a rare, musical sound. “He’s a good man. Just be careful. His heart is tied to his craft as much as it could ever be tied to you.”

++++++++++

The moments you shared with Celebrimbor were often quiet, but each one built upon the last, weaving a bond as delicate and strong as mithril. He never spoke openly of his feelings, but his actions spoke for him. He listened when you spoke of your dreams and fears, crafting small trinkets to match your words—a silver leaf when you told him of your favorite tree, a delicate sunburst when you mentioned longing for the warmth of Valinor’s light.

One night, as you stood beneath the stars, he handed you a simple ring, its design understated but flawless.

“For you,” he said, his voice almost hesitant. “A reminder that even the smallest things can endure.”

You slipped it onto your finger, the cool metal warming almost instantly. “It’s beautiful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He hesitated, then added, “Not everything I make is for kings.”

++++++++++

By the time Elrond began visiting Lindon more frequently, the dynamic between you and Celebrimbor had become a favorite subject of teasing.

“Have you told him yet?” Elrond asked, his expression far too innocent for someone meddling in your affairs.

“Told who what?” you replied, pretending to be oblivious.

He only smiled. “You’ll know when you’re ready.”

++++++++++

Ereinion wasn’t often in Celebrimbor’s forge. The High King had little need to concern himself with the intricacies of smithing, but today he’d come with a purpose—a commission he needed to discuss. Yet as he pushed open the heavy doors, he paused, one hand still on the iron handle.

The scene before him was not what he’d expected.

His sister and Celebrimbor stood close together, the soft glow of the forge casting golden light over their faces. Celebrimbor’s hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek, while she held onto his tunic as if afraid he might vanish. They were locked in a kiss—tentative at first but growing deeper, the unspoken feelings between them finally laid bare.

A sly grin grew on his lips.

“Am I interrupting?” he called, loud enough to startle them apart.

His sister turned first, her face a picture of mortified surprise. Celebrimbor, ever composed, cleared his throat and took a step back, though the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Ereinion!” she exclaimed, her tone sharp enough to cut. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he replied, striding further into the room. “But I suppose I don’t need to.”

She glared at him, arms crossing defensively. Celebrimbor, meanwhile, was very pointedly looking anywhere but at the High King.

“It’s about time, really,” Gil-galad continued, his grin widening. “I was beginning to think I’d have to forge an alliance contract just to get the two of you to admit it.”

“Brother, dearest,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “go away.”

He ignored her, addressing Celebrimbor instead. “Welcome to the family, old friend. About time you made it official.”

Celebrimbor opened his mouth as if to respond, but your glare cut him off. “Don’t encourage him,” you hissed.

“Encourage me? I’m practically overjoyed!” Ereinion raised his hands in mock surrender. “But fine, I’ll leave you to your…moment. Just remember—dinner tonight. And don’t be late.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out, laughing under his breath. Behind him, he heard his sister mutter something about his insufferable nature, but it only made him smile more.

He had waited years to see her happy, and now she was. That, to him, was worth every ounce of teasing.

[simplyxsinned]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐅𝐅

• summary; you came back home tired and extremely late with your makeup still on, how will your partner react?

• genre; fluff, comfort

• characters; alhaitham, kaveh x reader

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

✧ The candle almost burning out as ALHAITHAM couldn't resist but let his mind wander about your whereabouts, he raised an eyebrow when he catches a glimpse of you standing right at the doorframe leading to his office, his palm propped up his chin, pretending that he's had his head buried in his books, putting on an act like he did not expect you to be here, especially when soaked from head to toe

Based on his calculations, you must’ve left the house in a rush as you overslept and forgot to bring an umbrella to work, thus increasing your possibility on getting a cold the next day, it’s not a big deal though, alhaitham trusts himself to take care of you well

“You’re making the floor wet” he stood up and made his way to you, catching you off guard when he swept your feet of the ground, easily lifting you as if it’s a simple gesture

He sets you down on the closed toilet seat, filling up the bathtub, he reached his hand in the water to check the temperature, making sure that it’s just right

Subsequently, he returned to your side, kneeling down “Alright how do I do this” one of his hand holding a makeup wipe and the other grabbing a cleanser

It’s funny watching him follow your instructions precisely, the beads of sweat rolling down his drop dead gorgeous face, you’re so sure that’s god’s most finest living piece of art on his knees in front of you, ugh what an honour

After successfully removing your makeup, the calming scent of fresh tropical lemongrass essential oil fills your scents, helping you clear your mind along plus easing your tense muscles after a long day

Al-Haitham being the caring lover he is, never leaves your side, he helps you dry your hair after showering, shhhh no need to tire yourself out anymore habibi let me take care of you <3

✧ KAVEH doesn’t have time for this, its already 11pm. Why are you not back? He intended to complete his projects that are occupying wayy too much space on his desk but instead ended up anxiously pacing back and forth around the living room, nibbling on his thumb as it was his habit when nervous, eyes occasionally darting to the entrance of your shared house, hoping to see you miraculously appear through the door

You promised to spend time with him and have a skincare night which is a weekly ritual you two had planned because he said quote “oh my god we should totally treat ourselves cause we totally deserve it”

And well, after a few moments which felt like an eternity for him he heard your grumble outside the door

You were fumbling with your keys, frustrated and angry, blaming your anger towards the poor keys

“Honey you’re back!” he exclaimed while running to you with open arms with a large smile plastered on his face, you paused infront of him. He doesn’t fail to notice your furrowed brows and reddened cheeks, upon realising what’s the situation his mouth immediately turned into a thin line

It wasn’t your fault that you were tired after a day of work as you turned away and walked past him, dismissing his enthusiasm

In response he pouted at your dismissal, if you were to turn around right there right now, you’d see a sulking golden retriever. Of course kaveh being himself, he pestered you for a bit asking about your day

With your head on his lap, both of you already had your clay masks on, you couldn’t help but pour your heart out into ranting to your caring partner. As you went on a verbal onslaught, his fingertips threading through your hair whilst occasionally humming, showing that he’s actually paying attention to you

It was times like these where you felt thankful to have a loving partner like kaveh, well he might not be perfect but he’ll give in his best efforts for your comfort

thanks for reading <33

[daisiesinvienna]

Sharpshooter

Title: Sharpshooter 

Pairing: Billy The Kid (2022) x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Billy can’t always be there to keep you safe, so he teaches you how to protect yourself.

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Billy if you shot me in the head I would thank you then apologize for wasting a bullet just one chance plz

The sound of Billy’s gun firing rings out once again, the rusty old can he’d placed on a wooden post flying into the air upon impact. Billy points and shoots the can a second time before it can hit the ground, sending it up again. He shoots it once more as it begins its descent, before allowing it to hit the ground with a hollow thunk.

You had been sitting off to the side under a tree, mending a tear in one of Billy’s shirts and watching as he practiced his shooting. You paused your sewing to watch as he shot every target he’d set up on the fence with exact precision. You’d watched him shoot countless times, but not once had you seen him miss.

Billy glanced over at you, smiling fondly at the sight of you under your tree, fixing up his shirt. He walked over to the wooden fence, picking up each bullet-ridden can and placing it back on its respective post.

Billy walks back to where he was shooting, reloading his pistol as he does so. He looks back over at you, catching your eye.

“Why don’t you come ‘ere, honey,” Billy says to you, sliding the last bullet in the chamber. You carefully fold his freshly mended shirt and place it back in your basket before curiously standing up and walking over to stand beside him. To your surprise, he grips his gun by the barrel and holds the handle out to you.

“You want me to shoot?” You ask inquisitively, raising your eyebrows as you carefully take his pistol from him. The heavy piece of metal feels foreign in your hand.

“You should learn. I’m away more than i’d like to be, baby, it’s best you know how to defend yourself,” He muses, gently adjusting your grip on the weapon so that you’re holding it correctly. 

Billy doesn’t ever want for you to be in a situation where you’d need to fire a gun. Just seeing one in your hand feels wrong, he hated the sight of someone so sweet and innocent holding a deadly weapon. But he knows that a woman living alone with no male protection is a danger in itself, and his line of work makes it so he can’t be home all the time to watch over you.

Billy moves you so that you’re standing in front of him. His large hand covers your smaller one as he lifts the gun to point at the target.

“Now, when you’re ready, you put your finger on the trigger and squeeze. Squeeze, don’t pull,” He says quietly in your ear, taking his hand off of the gun and placing it at your hip.

“This is gonna send me flying backwards,” You state, closing one eye and pointing the gun at the tin can in front of you. 

“I’m right here, honey, you’ll be fine,” Billy says reassuringly, watching as you slowly move your finger to the trigger.

You hesitate for a moment, full of nerves, before you gather your courage and squeeze the trigger. 

The sound of the gunshot echoes, but the bullet itself flies over the tin can. You were right, though, the kickback sends you knocking into Billy. He steadies you with his hands at your hips.

“That was good, baby, real good,” He says, grinning as you scoff.

“How can it be? I missed by at least three feet!” You laugh, gesturing at the can which was very much still there.

“For your first time ever shootin’ a gun, it was great,” Billy responds. “Now try it again.”

You sigh, pointing his gun at the can again. You focus on the can, willing it to fly up in the air like it did when Billy shot it. You stare at it for a moment before firing.

This time, you hit the fence post itself, just under the can. You don’t wait before firing again, this time sending the can into oblivion. 

“Atta girl,” Billy says, planting a celebratory kiss on your cheek. “Knew you’d be a natural.”

You argued that missing twice wasn’t exactly a natural, but Billy wouldn’t hear it. He deemed you his little sharp shooter, even though you’d only hit one can.

Billy went on to show you how the safety worked, as well as how to load and unload the weapon. After about twenty minutes of shooting, you had managed to knock all three cans down in a row without missing. 

“Good job, baby,” Billy told you, pecking you on the forehead as you handed him back his gun. “So proud of my girl.”

“Well, I learnt from the fastest draw in the west,” You joke, and Billy rolls his eyes, walking you back up to the house with his arm around your waist.

[namfinessed]

what i see, what you see (1) - k.th.

genre: fluff, angst (9.5k)

summary: how you see taehyung, has changed too much over the years and how he sees you, hasn’t changed at all. 

part 2 of the story.

all works in the series can be real individually.  

masterlist    series masterlist

-

perhaps waking up to such a beautiful man should have pleased you, excited you even that your night was indulgent and filled with the intimacy you craved, but perhaps having to leave his bed in just minutes threw that happiness into thin air.

you stare with hands wrung tight around the blanket that protected your dignity, you stare with awe in your eyes at the man lying beside you. the sunlight gracefully blinked on his face as he tossed and turned before settling again and something about his delicate features made you want to run your fingers across his face.

you can’t believe you are here, in this bed, with him.

after staring at him for a few more silent minutes, you decide you must leave before the handsome man wakes up and discovers you in his bed.

there are certain rules to a one-night stand that need to be followed, at least you follow them carefully.

one, leave in the morning as soon as you can. no one wants a clingy one-night stand partner and the last thing you wanted was to humiliate yourself in front of this god-like man by overstaying your welcome.

two, don’t leave any trace of you behind, including clothes, phones, and other personal belongings that would be a hassle to retrieve from them.

three, don’t have any expectations and this one is rough, especially with how passionate-filled some nights can be, but one-night stands are not expected to make you a cup of coffee or a pleasant breakfast, it would be nice of them but it’s better to just head home and do that for yourself.

and all of these apply, no matter what the situation is.

now, you strongly believe in those rules, knowing well your way in the world of temporary strings, and no matter how beautiful this man was, or how beautiful he made you feel, you cannot stay any longer even if your hands ache to touch him one last time.

you roll off the bed with a small groan, all your muscles tightening at once as you slowly pad around for your dress and your purse. you sigh in relief when you spot them disposed of in a corner, blushing at the memory of how hasty you’d been to remove your dress last night or how hasty both of you had been, to be more precise.

just as you are about to leave, you hear a shuffle in the bed and freeze momentarily. you desperately hope he goes back to sleep so you can go without hiccups.

“leaving me already, heart?”

he remembers.

your breath stutters and your hands tighten around the doorknob at the low, rough voice that uttered the nickname you dreaded to hear but you don’t dare to turn around, your skin raises in goosebumps and your heart pounds exaggeratedly just at the sound of him which is why you do the wisest thing you can do at the moment.

you leave.

-

the coffee sitting in front continues to grow cold as you stare into nothing, you had another sleepless night, you kept tossing and turning and your work life being as hectic as it was, didn’t help at all

you think of him, you wonder how he’s doing, you wonder who he’s charming right at the moment with his honey-like voice. you wonder if he remembered everything or just pieces of what you had been.

you really shouldn’t if you were being honest, you have forgotten all your one-night stands the following morning with ease but it’s been weeks since you have been with him, and your mind doesn’t seem to shut up about him.

and you hate that.

you hate that your body grows cold and warm as memories come back to you faintly, you remember how soft his hair felt between your fingers but you can’t remember the color of his shirt or the color of his home. but you remember what you felt, you remember flashes of how your eyes met his, how his lips curved to say your name, how his hands never stopped touching you, and how you fell asleep in his arms feeling nothing but warmth. how it felt so good to be in his warmth again after all this time.

and worst of all, you remember utterly clearly what he said to you just before you left.

how did you ever find the heart to leave him after he called out to you like that?

“i must say, you look even better during the day.” you jerk in your seat, your knee hitting loudly under the wooden table as you glance up hurriedly to meet his eyes.

the object of your restless nights.

you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

he shouldn’t be here.

“is that how you usually respond to compliments?.” he chuckled breathily and takes a seat right across you, and you are yet to say a word to him, your eyes too wide and your heart too loud for you to reply to him.

“not usually, no.” you manage to say and he smiles graciously. “i was hoping i would run into you at some point” he confessed with a lop-sided grin and your brows furrow involuntarily.

“what for?” you ask with your heart in your throat. your mind betrays you as everything he did to you comes rushing back and you have to swallow the dryness in your throat away.

“you left without saying goodbye, i was hoping you would stay” his voice is soft and you could tell he was being genuine. “why would i stay? it was a one-night thing” you shrugged, looking away from him because it killed you to leave that morning.

you really did believe you didn’t have to stay because again, it was a one-night stand and nothing else, not even with the history that apparently you two are adamant to ignore. but you wanted to know why he assumed you would.

“well, it doesn’t have to be.” he shrugs back and you want to sink under the table, there is no way that he, of all people, was insinuating what you thought he was.

did he really forget you altogether? and all the years you spent with him?

“on that note, can i join you for the rest of your meal, heart? unless you are meeting someone, of course.” there it was again, that ridiculous nickname that made your mouth dry. and now, you knew that he remembered.

taehyung had some inkling that you weren’t going to push him away, there was no way he was letting you slip again.

“nope, not meeting anyone” you confirm and he nods, evidently very pleased with your answer. “then, you wouldn’t mind if i grab us something to eat, right?”  once you shake your head in reply, “i would like-“ and you are cut off with a finger to your lips.

“i remember, heart.” your lips tingle where he leaves his touch and as if nothing happened, he merrily skips away to order for you two. you sink in your seat as you place your hand over your rapidly pounding heart.

this was bad.

you two were never supposed to cross paths again. you felt like an idiot playing whatever shitty version of role-play this was.

though you can’t say you are entirely upset with seeing taehyung again.

but you were irritated with how flustered he still made you with few sentences, how he didn’t even try to make you feel that way but here you are, flushed and jittery.

a plate with quiche, some cinnamon rolls, and a can of peach soda enters your vision, you barely register him coming back to the table with your mind being so occupied by him.

and you purse your lips in the realization that this is exactly what you always got.

“your memory is quite good.” you hum while pulling your food closer to you and you can see how content he looks as he sits down. “so, i was hoping to get to know you better, we didn’t get to talk much that night, you can ask me whatever you would like.”

“what makes you think i want to keep talking to you?” you lean back with raised eyes, you wanted to see if he could handle some bruising to his intelligence, to see if he had changed at all.

he quirks his eyebrow but smiles nonetheless. if you wanted to play like that, so could he, “you would’ve told me to fuck off the second i sat down if you didn’t want to talk. i don’t see any benefit in beating around the bush when i know what i want and i just assumed that our good time together would naturally make you feel interested, correct me if i’m wrong though.”

he wasn’t wrong, you haven’t thought of anything but him for the past few weeks so he was safe to assume everything he did.

but you try to maintain composure, clearing your throat and sitting upright, you reply “you think too highly of yourself”, and he grins easily with a shrug, “if i don’t, who will?”

even though he said it playfully, he was right (once again), if we don’t value ourselves the way we want to be valued by others, it would be futile to ever wish for a value to be bestowed on us.

“so heart, you are free to ask me anything your pretty mind is curious about” he digs into his food and you nod your head, you have things to ask him if he’s so eager to answer.

“how long will you keep pretending that we don’t already know everything about each other, taehyung?”

the playful environment vanishes like a fog that gets chased away by the heat. sure, it was nice to pretend that you two were strangers and that this was all new, you were both new but the only truth you believed in, was the old, almost vintage kind of love that you lived through him.

until it all burnt to ashes and here you two were, acting like strangers to dull your longing for each other.

he pauses, setting down his fork and looking at you with pursed lips, taehyung was really hoping this wouldn’t be brought up, he was hoping that he could have you, a fresh start to your otherwise wilted story. his shoulders fall as a frown starts to appear on his brows.

“heart, can i ask you something now?” taehyung’s words are slow and they come out with a light shakiness to them.

“i guess, it’s only fair, so go ahead.” you nod and the tapping of your foot against the floor starts rapidly, it had always been one of those habits you couldn’t break.

your mind goes through every possible question he could ask you, you are not sure you could answer most of them, and you don’t want to answer most of them because you know taehyung, and you know he won’t ask you something simple.

“truthfully and i want the sincerest answer from you.” you hold your breath as taehyung levels his gaze with you.

“how have you been, y/n?” was not what you expected.

“it’s been too long.” not what you expected at all.

a simple question.

but it knocked the breath out of you, taehyung’s concern weaved around his words, his teary eyes indicated he had wondered about this before, about how you’ve been, about how long it’s been since he’s had the chance to ask you this. you wonder if it kept him up for as many nights as it did you because you have wondered endlessly about how he’s been too.

you couldn’t answer.

the night that entangled you two once again comes back to you.

he saw you dancing alone under the flashing lights.

he kept his gaze on you as you locked yours with his, urging your body to move in a way you never did before, throwing your head back and putting on a show.

show him what he’s been missing.

you don’t understand why you would ever act like you didn’t know him; you knew him more than you know yourself. you don’t know if you actually didn’t recognize him or chose to just forget your history for those few hours.

“what are you doing here?” you want to know, you want to know so badly so many other things that you can’t ask now so you settle to dodge the question as you lean back and away from him.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“you are not answering mine.”

“i have an exhibition here, i was hoping to get to that after we talk a little more.”

so, he ended up pursuing photography in the end.

now, this was something you totally expected from taehyung.

“i would love for you to come and see it, y/n. there’s no one i want to show it more to.” those words would have made you swoon but now, they just irritated you and you willed your frustration away. you don’t speak a word, you don’t give a single indication of your thoughts, of your brewing anger.

but taehyung had always been stubborn.

“how have you been, y/n? i’ve waited years to ask you this.” the question hits you like a truck once again but this time, you force yourself to look away from the abyss of his eyes that held so much of the emotions you were scared of acknowledging.

it was absurd.

seeing him after all the time was absurd, and having this conversation with him was absurd.

taehyung’s grip on you, even now, was absurd. your throat starts to close up at the sheer weight of his return in your life.

“what do you do? how is your sister? please, say something.” you don’t miss how his tone begs you to speak but you could’ve never prepared yourself enough to see taehyung after this long, let alone sit down and talk to him like nothing happened.

“i’m sorry, taehyung” and before he could let another word out, you were running out of the café.

-

sometimes, you hated social obligations and you hated it even more when they were on saturday’s that you hoped to spend drinking and journalling.

you absentmindedly glance over the photographs hung in the museum your friend forced you to come to as a plus one. she promised good food and good-looking men, but so far only the food was satisfactory. the champagne flute clutched tightly in your hands had long lost its bubbles and you found yourself getting bored for the fifth time in the past hour.

usually, you loved exhibitions and you wouldn’t admit to another person that you had secretly hoped to find taehyung’s name somewhere among the sea of photos, maybe get some closure from how he left, and that grew into a casual affection for exhibitions.

but your mind was somewhere else entirely.

you turned around with a sigh, knowing that you didn’t have it in you to appreciate the photos today. and you do a double-take when you see taehyung’s face buried in crowds around the far corner of the room.

the closure you needed, two years ago, was standing a few feet away and not just the name, but also the face that glittered under the neon lights.

you thought closure would bring you comfort and some peace, but your ankles buckled underneath you as all color drained away from your face, and the champagne flute in your hand whined under your grip.

closure didn’t bring you comfort or peace, just a longing you couldn’t refuse or accept.

did he feel it too?

had he ever tried searching for you as you had so desperately for him?

he was already looking at you and you didn’t like that one bit, you didn’t like that he knew of your presence because now, you couldn’t just run away.

taehyung smiled his beautiful smile after you met his eyes, raising his glass to you. you blink once, twice, and whip your head back around.

what was he even doing here?

your ears picked up on the tell-tale sound of boots beelining towards your direction and it took every nerve in you to not gallop towards the door. your feet curled to move, to loosen their grip on the ground and sprint but you stayed stuck.

“find anything you like?” his smooth voice invades your space and you suck in a breath when he appears beside you with a jolly smile.

seems like your previous exchange hadn’t affected him at all. you don’t know if you find that stupid or admirable yet.

“sure, many actually” you shrug, trying to appear casual, trying to appear as if his presence here didn’t deter you at all, as if it didn’t make you want to curl into yourself and you gulp more of your warm champagne, the sour bubbles making you grimace immediately.

god, that tasted like a horse’s foot.

without a word, he takes the glass out of your hands and replaces it with his own.

“it’s better when it’s cold.” your lips part involuntarily at that and your heart hammers in your ears as you take in how he looks.

taehyung was wearing this beautiful crimson satin shirt, paired with trousers that hugged his long legs perfectly, a thin chain disappeared behind his shirt and his hair was pushed back, he looked extremely attractive and he knew it.

that didn’t change, you noted. taehyung had always been well aware of the effect he had on other people and he often took pride in his ability to make a person turn twice to see him. you used to find that arrogant but if you had his face, you would be the same.

taehyung, on the other hand, has to hide his smile behind his glass because he can’t believe that you, of all people in the world, ended up at his exhibit and he would be the biggest liar if he said your emerald, flowy dress didn’t drive him insane. he didn’t even try to peel his eyes off you when he saw you, just kept looking, enjoying his view and hoped you would look back.

the jewel-toned outfits you two matched, didn’t slip his attention.

“so, which ones did you like?” he pried his eyes away from you for the first time since he saw you and pointed towards the photographs. you could sense the urgency in his tone, he really wanted to know which caught your eye. “i haven’t looked at a photo long enough to pick a favorite, i’ve been…distracted.” you finally admitted.

taehyung’s lips split into the widest grin, he had always loved how honest you were and he knew this meant you didn’t know it was his exhibition.

“for me, can you please take a look?” his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly in fleeting concentration at the frames surrounding you two and your own eyebrows come together in confusion.

why did he look at the pictures with so much affection?

“uh, sure.” you mutter and turn to look at the photo, it was a close-up of the empty space inside a heart locket and the thin chain of the necklace was sprawled messily around it.

it looked familiar.

too familiar.

and then it dawns on you that it was the same chain and locket you had gifted taehyung around four years ago.

the world around you goes mute for a second.

your eyes hurriedly searched for the name of the photographer because it couldn’t be him, anyone but him, and anything but that necklace you had given him foolishly, thinking you would spend the rest of your life with him. in the middle of your frantic search, your eyes finally catch the name at the bottom right of the frame.

kim taehyung (v).

sea of photos.

his face.

his name.

it was everything you wanted.

just not now.

you spun as your eyes darted into every corner, to look at the other frames sprawled on the white walls around you two; sure enough, all of them had his name under them.

his exhibit.

the one he told you about.

god, you are so stupid.

of course, it’s the exhibition that he tried to get you to come to but you didn’t want to hear anything about it and you’re here anyway. by some shitty wrench in your fate, you ended up right where he wanted you.

“this is all yours” you mumble out breathlessly and taehyung’s lip is caught in his teeth as his eyes zero in on your reaction. you don’t look at him anymore as your back stands straight and you are stiffer with tension than ever and his face falls. he wishes it wasn’t his, just to erase the frown on your face.

“yes, it is,” he can’t bring himself to sound proud about the exhibition after he sees how uncomfortable you look.

ever since taehyung left you the way he did, you have gotten very good at one thing.

leaving.

a trait, you liked to joke to your friends now, that you picked up from him.

“i can’t be here” you whisper more to yourself than anyone else but taehyung’s ears pick up on your soft whisper and he further deflates. but he can’t let you leave, not again, not after you’ve seen the part of him that he’s desperately been waiting to show you.

so, as you turn to leave like you’ve trained yourself to in any situation that made it difficult for you to breathe, taehyung’s hand wrap around your wrist.

his touch is gentle, and his fingers are a little cold from the champagne flute he’s been holding since the beginning of the evening, but his touch crashes you into reality, a reality where taehyung was somehow back in your life and you couldn’t bring yourself to like that.

would it have been the same if he didn’t let you go that morning?

would you have paused and regretted every thought that made you leave?

“please, heart. for me, stay till the end.” you don’t miss the pleading in his tone and you don’t dare to look at his face, you know yourself enough to know that one look at him would have you crumbling on the floor with no resolve.

suddenly, you feel just the way the ‘university student’ you felt when everything blew away gently but surely like a dandelion.

you won’t stay.

you will leave, just like he did and you will not turn back, you will not think of kim taehyung ever again and you will do everything you can to avoid meeting him again. he was never supposed to show up in your life.

you will definitely not stay.

but the fluorescent lights in the museum continue to hurt your eyes and your fingers hurt from holding the flute of champagne which had long grown warm once again.

you stayed, after telling taehyung that you would rather burn in hell.

you stayed, after walking out into the cold night and promising to yourself that this is where it ends with kim taehyung.

you stayed, foolishly, but with a sick sense of owing this to taehyung.

the last visitor to the museum bows to taehyung and leaves, which left you and taehyung to be the last ones in the museum. he turns to you with amused eyes and his lips pulled up to one side.

he found it hilarious that you were the same person who was hell-bent on leaving just an hour ago and he can’t bring himself to wipe the smile off his face even if it sharply contrasts the deep scowl on your face.

“didn’t really think you’d still be here” taehyung walks up to you with breezy steps, and you scoffed, more at yourself than him, “i can still leave.”

he hums, dropping himself on a bench and looks up at you with the same smile that you used to love so much, “sit down, no funny business, i promise. i just want to talk, heart.” he tilts his head back with raised eyebrows, there is warmth in his voice and familiarity that you’ve grown to hate since he’s started using that nickname again.

but you sit down anyway.

at the end of the bench.

far away from him.

it isn’t lost on either of you that the bench is only big enough for two people so half your ass is hanging in the air and taehyung has to bite back a laugh at the way you seem to hover in the open air.

“this exhibition has been in the works for about a year now” he tells you and you cock an eyebrow at that. so, he’s known he was coming back for a year and that information sits bitterly in your mind.

“it seems to be a success” you mutter in an unbothered tone, your eyes flying over your nails in an attempt to look unbothered too but oh, your heart was practically singing with pride at the crowd that showed up.

“i was a nervous wreck, i really thought it would be just me and my assistant today.” he lets out a small laugh, laced with disbelief and you wanted to fight him at how little confidence taehyung carried regarding his craft.

you may hate him now but even you couldn’t deny that the exhibition was a huge achievement for him.

“well, if it makes you feel any better, i had a hard time finding space to walk around.” your heels click noisily, anxiously against the granite in your attempt to compliment taehyung. it felt strange, supporting him, talking to him, even sitting with him under dimmed lights felt strange and new.

somehow, you hated that taehyung seemed to have moved on to bigger and better things, you had wished that he was miserable, that he was crying every day, that he was lost in life with no direction.

“you wouldn’t have had that problem if you were walking around with the photographer himself, you know.” he cheekily remarks and you have to fight the smile on your face.

“the photographer looked a little too busy.” you let yourself relax a little, your back leans on the wall behind you and you suck in a breath at how much closer taehyung was. taehyung, on the other hand, is delighted and scoots further reducing the distance between you two. your eyebrows further reach your hairline but you don’t make an attempt to move.

you already fucked him, this was nothing.

“i’m never too busy for you.”

“it didn’t seem that way years ago.”

why did you just say that?

taehyung’s body jerks back at your harsh words and you, yourself are not sure where it comes from but it does, and you can’t bring yourself to take it back because that was how it felt then, like taehyung wanted to fly and you didn’t let his feet leave solid ground.

he looks away with a gulp, he has nothing to say to that, because he knows it’s true, he had been avoiding bringing up anything about the past but that just made you feel worse than the hell that the last few years put you through.

the fact that he was ready to flirt with you and make plans with you but never acknowledge the history you two shared, hurt you more than you would ever admit to another living soul.

“it’s not fair.” he declares with a hardened gaze and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. you felt taehyung should be the last one to talk about fairness.

“what isn’t?”

“how we ended, it wasn’t fair to either of us.” taehyung dares to look up at you as he says that, and even if he says it gently, him mentioning how you ended didn’t sit well in your mind and the developing knot in your throat made it hard for you to keep your eyes on him.

it really wasn’t fair, but not for the reasons he thought so.

“you know what actually isn’t fair at all?” you force yourself to speak, your voice laced with emotions that you thought you had buried but all of it bubbles over. you are seeing the person you loved during your entire youth, innocently, devotionally, and after they left you without an explanation or goodbye.

nothing in the world could’ve prepared you for this, nothing could’ve prepared you for taehyung again.

and you hated being unprepared, you hated how out of control everything felt.

taehyung knows what you’re going to say, he knows exactly what wasn’t fair and he’s struggled with the guilt of that knowledge for too long, so he keeps quiet, he doesn’t want to hear what it was. he’s tired of the hollowness that’s consumed him, body and soul, for the time he spent apart from you.

“how you left. how you left wasn’t fair to us, how you left wasn’t fair to me.” your eyes gather tears at the corners and you are close to yelling at the end. it wasn’t fair that you never knew why he left and why he never felt the need to give you the goodbye you deserved.

you thought you did something, that you were at fault, that taehyung couldn’t possibly leave you the way he did, and you are overcome with frustration about how hard you’ve been on yourself because of him.

but what frustrates you most is that even after all this time, you have not moved on.

he has but you haven’t.

“i don’t know what to say.” taehyung’s voice comes out tight and it’s barely above a whisper and your irritation only increases.

“seems like not much has changed for you then” he never bothered telling you he was leaving, so to you, your anger was more than justified. taehyung breathed out heavily, his entire body language screamed how uncomfortable he was and you wanted to leave, again.

“i don’t want to fight. i just want to enjoy this minute that you are here with me, in my exhibit, in my presence, after way too long.”

‘and who’s to blame for that?’ it lies at the tip of your tongue but you don’t say it, you don’t want to bother yourself with him anymore.

you sink in your seat in a silent acceptance that you will let him have his minute, just this minute.

just this one minute.

taehyung relaxes too, his body sliding down the bench as a long breath leaves him and his eyes drift to your feet, how they stay pointed away from him, his eyes fall shut as the exhaustion from the day catches up to him, from seeing you again with the knowledge that you hated his every fiber.

but taehyung was stubborn.

“can we, at least, be friends?” you almost bark out a burst of laughter at his request, he must have gone completely insane if he thought you would even consider that.

“hear me out” you hear him say and your eyes are already rolling to the back of your head, but his soft tone stutters your thoughts. “we were friends, before everything” he takes a shaky breath, not wanting to specify what ‘everything’ was. you didn’t want him to specify what it was, either.

“before things happened, we were the best of friends, we had each other backs. i have a journey i want to share with you, as a friend and i want you to be able to confide in me like you used to.”  

now, that makes you pause.

because it was true, you were really good friends, all through high school and almost till the end of college, you never lost that ‘friendship’ element even when you got together.

memories that you buried over the years, crawled up your spine until they curled around your neck and painted taehyung in the light that you shone on him then.

it had actually pained you more that you lost taehyung as a friend than as a boyfriend.

it would be stupid for you and taehyung to gloss over your issues, to pretend that the years haven't passed without longing and much missing.

nevertheless, you could no longer vehemently throw away his suggestion. a strong, foolish tugging at your heart wanted to give taehyung another chance with your trust.

it was foolish, very foolish but you found that with taehyung, you had always been a little bit foolish.

“okay.”

taehyung’s head snaps in your direction as a smile starts to bloom on his face and you force your own twitching lips down, you had no idea why the urge to smile took over your face.

“no funny business” you pointed at him with your polished acrylic and he jokingly lifts his hands in surrender, his hands reaching up to put an invisible zip on his lips that made you giggle.

“none at all, ma’am, none at all” he sang as he scooted impossibly closer to you and this time, you don’t move, you just stare at him with a dopey grin and faltering heart.

you knew this wouldn’t end well for you; this would end exactly as it did then.

nevertheless, when his smile reaches full bloom, you can’t bring yourself to care about any of that.

it was okay, you would be hurt again and that would be okay.

-

when you said you wanted to be friends with taehyung, this wasn’t what you expected.

everyone around you stopped and stared at the large bouquet of orchids and petunias laying on your cabin’s table, most were gaping at the sheer enormity of it and you stood there with burning cheeks, both from the huge grin you couldn’t shake off and also the attention it garnered at your workplace.

that wasn’t even the worst part.

as you flipped the card that was tucked gently in the middle, you could only shake your head at the message he sent it with.

‘with love, from thv. (as a friend)’

“you need to learn to be more subtle, this isn’t very friend-like of you.” you half-heartedly complained to him, his proud chuckle came from the other side of the phone, and even with the device separating you two, your heart thawed at a little at the sound.

it felt strange to have access to his number, access to him whenever, it felt strange to just casually call him up and talk.

but it also didn’t feel forced, almost like a jerk in the road before its smooth again.

“subtlety isn’t exactly my forte so excuse me for that and as for the friend part, i did write ‘as friends’, didn’t i?”

he did, but friends don’t send bouquets the size of your head to your workplace, especially if it was friends that had an undeniable history with you.

but you couldn’t bring yourself to be as mad as you wanted to and you hated that, you were already melting at his words after vowing to yourself that you would never see his face again.

you hated it. not completely, just enough to know you hated it but not feel it so much.

“you can’t do this, taehyung” you weren’t sure if you were talking about the flowers anymore as your fingers lightly traced the petals.

orchids and petunias had always been your favorite and your skin tingled from the fact that he still remembered.

“you’ll get used to this, don’t worry.” his tone was teasing, certain, and oh, so confident, you couldn’t detach your phone from your ear even after the call ended and all that was left on the line was an incessant beeping sound.

you were right.

letting him back into your life would be a mistake.

but the petunias staring back at you, made you throw all caution out the window.

-

“where are you?” his voice stops you from turning to another page of your work file. “at work, where else?” you chuckled as you threw the file away from you.

this had become a regular thing for you two over the past few weeks, talking on the phone at random times of the day, talking about nothing significant but enough to know what was going on in each other’s lives.

it was some of the most mundane conversations you’ve ever had, you still didn’t look forward to anything more than his call now.

“and when will you be done?” you turned to look at the emerald clock in your office, that taehyung had gifted you years ago but you would rather he not know that you still kept it.

you should’ve thrown it away, a long long time ago.

“in like two hours, why are you asking me?” you bit your lip in anticipation.

you won’t get your hopes up, you will not wait for him to ask to spend time with you-

“okay, text me when you get home.” then, the call goes dead and you are left with your mouth dropped open.

what a fucking asshole.

you drag your file closer to you with increased irritation as you flip angrily through the pages. how dare he? how dare he come back into your life, completely muddle everything that helped you survive in the years he left you and then fucking have the audacity to cut your call?

you were never ever, and you mean it when you cement this to yourself, you will never pick up another call from that man.

you kept going through work like water, your anger boosting your productivity significantly and you don’t even turn to look at the time again, you had nowhere to be so you would rather just work.

“thought i would bring these to you myself, this time” your pen pauses its scribbling on the pages laid out in front of you and you don’t want to look up, you don’t need to, you know exactly who is standing by your door with another bouquet of petunias.

“you didn’t have-“ your words get swallowed down your throat when you look up to see him.

loose shirt.

ruby pants.

petunia bouquet.

and that smile on his face.

no one could blame you for not having anything to say.

“we have a dress code around here” you point at his flashy outfit but he shrugs, closing the door to your cabin and placing the bouquet right in front of you.

“i promise i’ll follow it next time, heart” he winks at you as he takes a seat across from you, leaving you to deal with your hot cheeks. taehyung’s eyes dart around your office, the pictures sitting on your desk with people he didn’t recognize, the papers that were arranged neatly in a corner, the color-coded folders, and finally, the coffee mug with multiple Brooklyn-99 stickers on it, you had always loved that show and he’s glad that hasn’t changed.

he had noticed so many changes around you, in you as well. you never painted your nails before, now you always had a fresh set of bright acrylics. you used to always have your phone on silent and he had to wait for hours for you to call back, now you were instantaneous in picking up calls. you even started nursing small succulents from what he’s told.

you no longer were the insecure person who didn’t know whether you would achieve anything in life, you didn’t mumble your words anymore, they were clear and confident and he fell half-in-love again with just that.

not that he ever fell out.

then, he sees the clock.

the clock that twenty-year-old him had thought was a perfect gift for his girlfriend, you had pouted then, you asked him what would you even do with a clock but now, it was hung where you worked.

the coldness that filled taehyung’s heart in that minute was palpable, now he knew that you had held onto some belief that he would come back, he couldn’t bring himself to imagine how cruel that waiting must’ve been.

he really fucked up.

“what are you doing here, taehyung?” you sigh in faux exasperation, seemingly none the wiser to his glance towards the clock, as you lean back in your seat. taehyung didn’t want you to know either, he would rather not bring up wounds that seared the two of you.

what was important to him was that you were in front of him, and he had only this one chance at making things right.

“picking you up from work and taking you to a picnic if you have nothing else planned.” your eyes widen on their own, you had never been good at hiding your reactions and taehyung had always found it amusing.

“it’s just a picnic, y/n. some wine, cheese, and pastries, i have it all ready, you just need to come along” taehyung smiles sweetly, and you almost smile back before shaking your head and sitting up straighter, “what if i have other plans?” you challenge him but both of you know you don’t have anything planned. again, you never were good at hiding how you felt and that automatically led to you being a terrible liar.

but he plays along.

“i will try to convince you that my plan is better” he shrugs, sitting up straight with you. his confidence. you both missed it and can do without it at the moment.

“and how is that?”

“well, it’s got me” he gives you a lopsided grin and you roll your eyes though a smile now dances on your lips too.

“somehow, i’m not convinced, kim taehyung.” you act unaffected, putting your files away and he chuckles at that, throwing his head back on his seat. you keep your head down, you want him to give you a good reason, you want him to not give you any option but follow him out this door.

then, he gets up from his seat, presumably to leave and your heart deflates but you don’t say a word, you don’t dare to look his way again and before you know it, your chair is spun and you yelp as your eyes meet his.

he didn’t leave.

oh.

that was…interesting.

taehyung has that small smile on his face, one that shows his security in himself, in his own skin, and one that infuriates you because it’s hard to hate a man when he doesn’t secretly hate some part of himself.

taehyung’s always been him, just him, very secure in his delicate but angled features, he’s long embraced himself wholly.

you’re so lost in admiring him, admiring his long eyelashes that frame his eyes just right, his unsymmetrical eyes which blink back drunken stars, admiring his beauty like you used to.

you don’t notice how he leans to your ear until his breath against your skin makes you shiver and grip your chair tightly.

“we can get chocolate cake and hot chocolate on the way” he whispers so seriously about the sweets, for obvious dramatic effect and you hold back your giggles, no longer feeling too aware of his presence. “have i convinced you?” he tilts his head at you, his own amusement growing at your curled lips.

“don’t say anything else and we’re good to go” you push him back with the pads of your palms, grabbing your bag and coat, turning to see his baffled face with a sly smile.

you forgot how taehyung wasn’t used to this version of you, you no longer were the bubbly university student in love, you hardened over the years, in both a good and bad way.

if you had to get used to his spontaneous bouquets, he had to get used to this version of you.

“i don’t think friends do this, kim taehyung but i’ll make an exception for this one time.” you tease, sauntering out the door and he’s left gaping in your cabin.

-

“not going to lie, when you said wine, i really didn’t think it was the kind that gets you drunk” you giggle as you pour another glass for yourself, and taehyung laughs at your slurred speech. “but i’m not complaining” you shrug and swig the glass all the way and to put it in a simple way, taehyung’s mildly shocked. you used to have the highest tolerance among all your friends in college, often being the sober one who made sure everyone got home even if you drank a lot but now, you were getting drunk on three glasses of wine.

he would’ve stopped you from drinking more but you looked totally relaxed for the first time since he met you again and you weren’t fighting him either, it’s a win-win situation for him. he’s already decided that you will drink as much as you want and he’ll take care of it.

“i really didn’t think that i’d see you again.” you sighed, an emotion behind that simple motion that taehyung didn’t recognize but it was enough to make him stop from pouring more wine into your cup, and look up at you.

you weren’t looking at him. you were looking at anything but him, your gaze was empty, the flush on your cheeks was now a faint dash of color, and your eyes were once again widened in caution.

he felt a fight coming.

he didn’t know what to do.

“why did you come back, taehyung?” you can’t help the question that tumbles out of your mouth, but you still hold yourself back from asking one that has plagued your mind for months.

say it’s for me, say you couldn’t live without me, say it was hell for you too, say it was to see me one more time.

taehyung has the answer, he knows why he’s back but he can’t tell you now, he can’t pop up in your life and make it all about him again, but taehyung doesn’t realize that’s all he’s been doing.

“just…for the exhibition” he says instead, clearing his throat uncomfortably and your hand pauses mid-air from taking another swig, you were stupid to think otherwise. “of course, that’s fair.” you force yourself to tell him and he doesn’t do anything but nod.

then, why did you find me?

why did you wake up next to me again?

why did you come back to me, with flowers and quiet apologies?

“exhibition’s over, why aren’t you going back to wherever you came from?” taehyung forces himself to breathe normally at the next question that leaves your lips, he almost laughs at how smart you are even when intoxicated but the stars tonight weighed down on his shoulders, they didn’t shine, they burned him.

he knows you’ll make him say it anyway, he knows you’re smarter than to take whatever bullshit answer he will give you otherwise.

so, he gathers his courage to tell you that the only reason why he ever planned for an exhibition here, was for you. why he ever felt himself get tethered to this place, was you. why everything he built from the ground up, was to show you.

but before his words fully prepare to fall from his lips, your head falls on his shoulder, your hands going limp on your side as your wine glass rolls away. the wine must have caught up to you, your eyes are shut and you stir as you settle into the curve of his body.

taehyung sucks in a breath as his body stays rigid for a few minutes.

taehyung is reminded of the many days that he woke up just to feel you.

then, he settles too, and lets his body fall around you in a familiar fashion.

taehyung will tell you one day, he will tell you everything. he promises to himself that he’s going to let you know of all the things he’s seen without you, how much it hurt to not see them with you, to feel all the things he did, without you.

but for now, he will just savor this night, he will just feel you.

-

“a what?” you almost spit out the orange juice taehyung had so generously prepared for you as soon as you woke up with a throbbing head.

thank god for weekends.

“a trip, i need to gather information about the location so that i can plan my shoot and theme around it” he shrugs and goes back to the sizzling bacon on the pan in front of him. you stare with a dropped jaw, the shock of waking up in his apartment this morning was enough for you to digest in one day, the shock of him making you breakfast and you watching him cook in his kitchen, was too much but you could handle it. you needed a separate day for whatever he was suggesting now.

“and why will i come to this shoot?” you were beyond confused; you were flabbergasted that he would even bring this up with you. there was nothing you could contribute to the shoot and you weren't enthusiastic about spending long, lonely hours with him.

taehyung thought you forgot everything about last night, he was extra gentle with you throughout the night, when he was shifting the blanket around you, when his hands hesitated to remove your scarf and coat, and when he clicked the door shut as lightly as he could. as if, if he moved too quick, you would wake up and fight him again, that you would hate him again.

you remember everything, especially the part where he didn’t give you an answer.

but that just wasn’t a conversation for the near future.

“because i have a feeling you will really love the location” taehyung turns around, crossing his arms across his chest with a broad smile and you force your eyes from the apron straining on his hips as he moves. “no offense but your feelings almost always end up meaning trash, taehyung” you roll your eyes and plop down on the bar stool near the counter as he gasps.

“i take full offense to that actually, what do you even mean?” he argues and you cock an eyebrow, “remember when you got me a cat as a gift for our anniversary because you had a feeling i would love it?” taehyung’s face turns red as he tries to defend himself, “that was an honest mistake.”

“i was fucking allergic to the poor thing, taehyung.”

“that was an unexpected complication, it was a one-time thing! besides, i’m so sure this time.” he continued to argue and you sighed, leaning back.

“where is it then?”

“i won’t tell you.”

your jaw drops again, “are you crazy? why do you think i’ll go if you don’t even tell me where we’re going?”

“because it’s with me?”

“that goes in the list of reasons of why i shouldn’t go, actually.” you give him a bright, sarcastic grin and he glares back.

“it’s going to be your loss” he feigns nonchalance as he turns around and continues to cook. you hate to admit it but you really do need a trip, work has been killing you and nothing exciting has been happening (except random flower bouquets and wine with someone), you can’t deny how curious you are.

and taehyung knows.

taehyung knows how it kills you when you don’t know something, he knows that you’ll love this place, it takes all of him to keep his smile from growing too big because he enjoys how you’re squirming in your seat, fighting the urge to just ask him.

you might have changed but taehyung knows you enough to know this much.

“taehyung.” you call out after deciding that you’ve tortured yourself enough and he hums, “yes, heart?” you roll your eyes yet again at the dreadful nickname.

“where is it?”

“not telling you.”

“seriously?” your face starts getting red from the frustration that bubbles in you and your fists tighten on the counter.

“yes.”

“okay, then i won’t come” you say with much reluctance, you want to go so badly and taehyung has to bite back a chuckle, “okay, heart, whatever you wish” he shrugs with that irritating smile, placing a plate of food in front of you and you glare at it.

you start eating slowly before raising your fork at him, “i mean it, i will not be coming, i do not care about whatever stupid place you’re going to.” taehyung nods along, “of course, why would you?” he continues to tease you and you narrow your eyes at him.

his tone suggested that he knew of your feigned ignorance and that irritated you to the core.

nevertheless, you give up, if he wanted to be a dick, you were going to let him be a dick.

but right before you left his apartment that day, he planted another seed in your head that kept you up for days.

“we leave in two weeks, whether you come or not, your ticket will be booked, all you have to do is show up at the airport, so it’s really up to you.”

“i’m not coming, taehyung” you repeat unsurely but outwardly, you maintained a firm stance and he tuts at you, knowing your act was slipping, and pulls you in for a short hug under his doorway.

a short hug that you dreamed about for days.

“surprise me, heart. you always do.” he whispers with a smirk, pulling away and slipping inside his room.

two weeks.                    

surprise him?

you scoffed, he was crazy to think that you would even think of coming.

-

you did think about it.

you thought about it so much that you ended up with two full suitcases in the airport that taehyung had texted you the details about. you had left the message on seen, not bothering to reply because you weren’t going, right?

well, your suitcases said otherwise.

you see taehyung’s figure somewhere in the distance, he wasn’t too hard to find, his satin shirt at a freaking airport baffled you but at least you found him. he was looking for someone in the crowd around him, and you wonder who. you really have no clue, none at all.

you look off in the other direction, it was bad enough that you showed up after swearing on your life that you wouldn’t, it would be worse if you walked up to him with your suitcases.

you had thought of not coming, you really did but curiosity plucked at your every nerve until you gave in and started packing. you didn’t know what you were packing for, but you figured a good mix of everything was safe.

“heart?” his gentle tone which wasn’t filled with as much shock as you would’ve liked, broke the chaos around you. you didn’t have to see him to know he was grinning ear-to-ear.

“i thought you said you weren’t coming?” taehyung continues, circling around you to stand right in front of your embarrassed face and he bites his cheeks to stop himself from grinning.

“i came to wish you a safe journey” you answer unconvincingly, you know that he knows but you are going to at least try to save your dignity, “you always bring suitcases to wish someone that?” he furrows his eyebrows to act as if he believed what you said.

“always.” he laughs out loud and you no longer fight your own smile, you almost forgot the warmth that spread through you whenever you made him laugh.

“i’m doing what you told me to” you finally answer him after both of you calm down and he tilts his head, urging you to continue.

“surprising you” he wasn’t surprised, not even close, he had known the second you squirmed in his house that you would come, but he lets you have this one, “i’m beyond surprised, heart. now let’s go, we’ve got a flight to catch” he takes your suitcases and holds them along with his, to his right and with his left hand, tugs on your sleeve till you give your hand to him.

when you place your hand in his, it felt like no time has passed at all, and even if uncertainty filled you about the trip, about whatever you two were doing, about where you were heading, holding his hand seemed to put all of that behind you.

“are you going to at least tell me now?” you ask him as you two wait at the security line.

“you’re going to find out anyway, just a couple of hours. relax, heart.” his hands come to press on your shoulders and you lean back at him. this felt good, this felt great even. you couldn’t bring yourself to push away or start a fight or question how his arms now snaked across your waist.

you don’t say a thing and you do what he tells you to, yet again.

you just relax.

[sintiva]

HOUSEHUSBAND!NANAMI (hc’s and regular text format)

contents: established relationship, gn!reader, fem!bodied reader, nanami’s a baker essentially, oral sex (r!receiving), hair pulling….. i wrote this in like 15 minutes so bate with me 🥹 and i haven’t wrote for nanami in forever 😭

૮ • ﻌ - ა

and here we are…

househusband!nanami is the type of man who comes to rub your feet after you’ve been on them all day. he just got finished putting a homemade kneaded loaf of rosemary parm flour in the oven (it’s your absolute favorite). it’s friday and he makes sure he puts it in the oven at 3:45 pm on the dot. by the time it’s finished your pulling into the driveway and further stepping in through the garage door.

househusband!nanami greets you with a hug and warm kiss to the cheek. he can tell you had a rough day when you slouch and whine as you hang your jacket on the coat rack. “rough day?” he’ll ask with his hands cupping your waist, and a bit of flour of on his arms. “you could say that.” you sigh and get on your tippy toes to wrap your arms over his shoulders. he’d give you a loving kiss and hoist you up on his body. you wrap your legs around his waist and nestle your face into the crook of his neck

househusband!nanami walks you into the kitchen and places you on the island; in perfect view of the freshly baked bread. your eyes light up immediately, but it’s no suprise you’ve grown accustom to this routine, but it still makes your heart ache with love and admiration. “what did i do deserve you?” you hum in delight and dangle your feet as you watch him cut you a slice. it’s so fresh the steam floats up from the precise cut he made, he opens the fridge and pulls out his tub of homemade butter; parsely, garlic and gouda have all somehow been manipulated together to make the spread. he spreads it across the bread with a shiny butter knife and walks over to feed it to you.

househusband!nanami who views it as a ritual, he makes you do absolutely no work when you get home from doing work. you nearly moan at the way the bread and butter melt into your mouth, and you offer many words of praise to nanami’s baking skills. “it taste so good, babe. how do you manage to make it better and better each time.”

“you know if you had just proposed to me with bread i would’ve said yes.”

“i bet you would’ve.” he chuckles and feeds you another piece and you can’t grasp how it taste so good. your eyes roll back into your head, it’s almost — almost better than sex, and that quite happens to be another thing househusband!nanami is good at. when you finish eating every bit he’s given you, you plead for more. “just one more slice, ken, please.” and he’s smiling giving himself a mental pat on the back, “just one more, honey?”

househusband!nanami didn’t even need you to beg for more because he was gonna give it to you one way or the other. not only because it makes him feel good when you like his treats, but it’s a turn on. a massive one. your words of praise and how you enjoy the bread turn him on more than it should, and he’s instantly dropping to his knees as he guides your calves over his shoulders. you’re used to it honestly, whenever ken gets like this he’s persistent.

househusband!nanami loves the way you enjoy his bread so much that your moans and praises of approval towards it; gets his dick hard. so hard that he’s pulling you to the edge of the counter and positioning your hips to hang off the edge so he can pull your panties off with ease. he’s so greedy he doesn’t even pay mind to the way it hooks around your ankle. he has his eyes set on one thing, and he’ll get it.

househusband!nanami gets embarrassed so easily, and you think that’s why he decides on eating you out as much as possible. it hides the blush on his cheeks and he gets to slurp and lap at your pussy without being embarrassed about it. he holds onto you tight, basically hoisting his arms over your thighs so you can’t snap ‘em shut. he’d lick and lick until his jaw grew numb and locked. but feeling you tremble from his tongue pleased him.

househusband!nanami is such a pleaser that he doesn’t mind when you start to rock your hips against his face and tighten your fingers in the blonde strands of his hair; it just makes his dick incredibly harder. you can’t even be upset because househusband nanami is such a pleasure dom. he’ll do anything, and i mean anything in his power to see you happy, stress free and feeling good, and all he needs is you cumming all over his face.

househusband!nanami twirls and nips at your clit eith his tongue and mouth, and soon enough thr breads long forgotten, and it’s nanami who’s enjoying his home fed meal. feeling your cunt throb and gush around his tongue is elating, tasting how good you are is even better. he’ll lick and take as much as you give him, and sometimes he’ll use his fingers to get a little bit more on his tongue.

[helianskies]

4 for engport please!

chapter 69 is upon us! there is the tiniest hint of suggestive-ness in this bc it's port, so have a cookie anon and settle in! 🍪

Ignite

João is cold. He wakes up feeling like his toes have been bitten off, like the duvet is in fact made of snow, like the window has been left open all night. 

None of the above is true, of course. But it might as well be!

João is cold. He wakes up to the bitter chill of an English winter and, to his absolute dismay, his husband is not there in bed with him to greet him with the usual warmth he holds. 

It’s a mystery how he does it, to be honest. Arthur will be cold during the day, and usually has to fight João in order to get to hold his hand (because João naturally doesn’t like the cold!). But in the mornings, when they wake together, he is fire. He is so warm that João never wants to let him go, and Arthur actually has to fend him off so he can get out of bed and make breakfast and go to work and so on. 

That is why, when João finds himself alone that morning, it feels like betrayal. It is betrayal. And what is perhaps even worse is that he knows—he knows precisely where Arthur is, and precisely what Arthur is doing. And that only makes him all the more conflicted about his current predicament.

It takes him about ten minutes to work up the courage to get out of bed. He hurries to find his bed socks (they have a bunny design on them, courtesy of Arthur’s taste). He wraps himself up tightly in his bathrobe—it makes a small difference—and he reluctantly trudges down the stairs.

As expected, Arthur is in the living room. He is knitting away in his own merry world in his armchair, glasses hanging off the end of his nose, brow slightly creased as he focuses on the intricate work he is trying to complete. 

What he is knitting is a jumper. For João, actually. Apparently he was tired of João pinching them from his wardrobe, so he has insisted on making his husband a thick and cosy jumper of his own to keep him warm. It is a very sweet, very Arthur gesture. 

Right now, though, he needs warming up a bit faster than Arthur’s hands can work. Or, faster than they work with knitting needles, that is.

Arthur—rightly so—greets João with a smile and a soft, “Morning, sweetheart,” which might as well have been a trickle of warmed honey down his throat. But he needs more. It simply isn’t enough on its own, as loved as it makes him feel.

He greets him back of course, and approaches his husband in search of what he lacks. Only, as João stands in front of Arthur, lips slightly pursed and hands tucked up the fuzzy sleeves of his bathrobe, his husband’s eyes are once more glued to his knitting. The conflicted feeling returns.

“Arthur…?”

“Mmh? Everything okay?” the other asks as his needles flick and dip and turn. 

João takes a slow breath. “‘M cold,” he says. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, the heating should be on,” Arthur tuts. He seems disappointed in himself, but still, his eyes are on the damn— “Do you want me to put the fire on? Would that help?”

He hasn’t the words. His mouth refuses to move, his tongue refuses to speak. Instead, impulse takes over. 

With a move that startles Arthur, João plucks away the knitting from the other’s grasp. He holds it tight. His face remains neutral when met by the other’s confusion. He then (because he is not a monster!) sets down Arthur’s hard work on the sofa, making sure the needles don’t slip, and proceeds to ignore his husband when he asks what he’s doing. Because words, frankly, aren’t needed. 

Taking a slow breath, João clambers up onto Arthur’s lap, straddling him and relishing silently at how the other’s face seemed to turn a bit more pink. But to finish him off, João pries the glasses from his face, puts them onto the side table, and says, “Maybe you could warm me up…?”

Arthur swallows. His hands fall onto João’s waist, and he looks up at his husband with a sort of incredulity, as if looking at a dream, an angel, an unspeakable treasure. 

(Well, João is, isn’t he?)

“Y-You want me to warm you?” Arthur repeats, cogs still turning away in his brain.

“Yes,” João replies. He brushes fingers through Arthur’s short bangs, and gives a gentle sigh. “Unless you… don’t think you can…”

“Oh, I— I can,” the blond affirms, however, much to João’s delight. “I can do that. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

João can’t help but smile at him with thanks and appreciation. “When you’re ready then, Kirkland.”

“He— Here?”

“Where else?”

“Bed?” Arthur suggests. 

“But I’m comfy!”

“But—”

“Arthurrr…”

“Joãooo…”

“Please?” the brunet pouts and prods and pleads. “Pretty please?”

He doesn’t necessarily intend for them to do anything too intense, bear in mind. A really good, long cuddle would honestly suffice. But there is something about teasing Arthur like this that certainly helps João warm in the meantime (in more ways than one) and it is hard to resist. He’s just so adorable when his cheeks start to change colour and he goes a bit awkward and then suddenly becomes overthrown by bravado and confidence in a bid to impress!

The truth is, though, Arthur will always impress Joao regardless. He’s the sweetest man alive. I mean, he’s knitting him a jumper, for crying out loud! A handmade jumper! It will be like wearing a hug and he can’t fucking wait, but— but for now, João needs his husband in his entirety. He needs his warmth, his love, his time, more than the knitting does.

So when Arthur gives in to his request, a relieved João thanks him and gives him a kiss. A full, hearty, grateful kiss. Arthur is the Sun to his Moon—the wind in his sails—his alma gêmea. He loves him. He loves him so much, it burns inside of him. And so he realises… that warmth he seeks is something he already has buried deep. João just needs Arthur to help him find it. He counts himself lucky he has Arthur to help him feel it.

[ ficlet collection on ao3! ] [ prompt list here! ]

[gleefulpoppet]

For the prompt game: 6 - 8 - 27. Coffee shop - exes - “that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”

For this ask/prompt game [X]

Kurt sits at a small table near the window of the bustling coffee shop, engrossed in a book, enjoying the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and a rare lunch break from his unbelievably stressful job. Unbeknownst to him, a stranger walked in and took a seat at the counter having an incredibly difficult time keeping his eyes to himself; his thoughts running wild: Damn, if that man isn’t the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen! Be still my heart! Is he reading about Gene Kelly? 

As Kurt turned a page, he looked up, met the man’s gaze, and smiled when the other man looked flustered and blushed, biting his lip shyly but didn’t look away. Kurt could swear he was saying, “Hi. How’s your morning?” with his eyes alone, and when he nodded at Kurt with that head of perfect curls, Kurt took it as confirmation that was precisely what he was asking. So he said, “Hi. I’m doing well. Come here often?” with his own, adding an infinitesimal wink, and felt a blush race against his cheeks.

The bell chimed, and they both looked toward the door. Kurt’s heart dreadfully skipped a beat when he spotted his ex-sort of-boyfriend, Fisher, entering the coffee shop. Of course! Of course, he’d show up now! Panic set in as he realized Fisher hadn’t seen him yet. Desperate to avoid an encounter, Kurt frantically looked around, searching for an escape route. Damn! Fisher was headed for him. He looked back at Blaine, who scrunched his eyes in concern, clearly picking up on Kurt’s distress. “He’s a jerk! You wanna help me here?” Kurt said with his eyes and a slight shake of his head, having absolutely no idea what he meant by that or how he thought a stranger could help.

“Kurt,” Fisher sneered much too loudly, towering over him. “Shocking. You’re not working?”

“You smell like desperation,” Kurt says as calmly as he can, turning a page in his book he hasn’t read.

“What the hell is your problem? What? We can’t even be civil in a coffee shop?”

Kurt’s head snaps up. “Civil?” 

“Hello, love,” The stranger says, kissing Kurt on the top of his head and squeezing his hand. As he moves a chair closer, he says, “They were out of your favorite, so I ordered our backup.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says wide-eyed. He should be surprised by the whole interaction, but mostly, he’s wondering how his entire body can tingle from a stranger kissing his head and brushing his fingertips over his hand. 

The stranger looks over at the man who is seething at him. “Hey! I’m Blaine. And you are?” He offers his hand. 

“Fisher.” He shakes it, gripping Blaine’s hand, not in a friendly way.

“Ah! Fisher. That explains a lot.” Blaine laughs and shakes his head. “Quite a grip you have there. Trying to prove something?” He asks as he finally sits down, his shoulder touching Kurt’s and intertwining their hands.

Fisher huffs. “Since when have you two been together?”

“Can’t figure how that is any of your business. Unless…” Blaine turns to Kurt. “Is it any of his business?”

“Absolutely not, honey.”

“Thought not.” He kisses Kurt’s cheek and then looks up. “Can we help you? You’re blocking the precious sunshine.”

Fisher studies them, scrutinizing their hands.

“I’m not going to tell you again to leave me alone,” Kurt says.

“Kurt! I said I was sorry. I don’t understand why you’re being such an ass about all this.”

“Sorry?” Kurt laughs in disbelief. “Like that changes anything about the way you treat me.” He huffs an exhausted sigh and instinctually turns toward Blaine, getting lost in the warm, golden-brown hues that seem to hold a universe of emotions, creating an irresistible magnetic pull. Kurt is sure it would take a lifetime—maybe more—to explore the profound depth of Blaine’s soul staring back at him. He realizes he’s leaning forward, and his eyes dart to Blaine’s lips and then back up again. “Blaine…”

Blaine’s hand, not holding Kurt’s, reaches up to cradle his jaw, brushes his thumb over his cheek a few times, and nods, telling Kurt with his eyes, I feel it, too. “Want to go somewhere else where there isn’t a dark cloud hanging over us, and you can tell me all about your book?”

“Yeah.” Kurt nods and then gasps, surprised when Blaine leans over and gives him a peck on the lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.” He leans in and kisses Blaine again, grins spreading across their faces. Without a word, they’re standing, still holding hands.

“Disgusting saps,” Fisher growls and turns on his heel to order his coffee.

“That,” he tilts his head toward Fisher as they walk out, “was a very bad idea. Zero out of ten. Would not recommend!” 

Blaine chuckles as he opens the door for Kurt. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Before you have to ask, he was one of those blind date situations. Perfect gentleman. Wined and dined me for a few weeks. And then… Well, his true colors showed up all too soon, and he didn’t take it well that I wanted nothing to do with him.”

“Ugh. I dislike him more by the second.”

“Good. That’s good. It should be a nice oozing loathing soon.”

Blaine laughs and squeezes Kurt’s hand.

“Thank you,” Kurt says. “You know, for all that back there.”

“Mmm...” Blaine simply hums and then looks at him with a mischievous grin, bumping into his shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“I have no idea. I thought maybe you knew.”

“Not a clue,” Blaine teases. “I only know I’m not ready to let go of your hand.”

“Well, that’s good because I’m pretty sure I’m never saying goodbye to you.”

Blaine beams and notices how the sunshine feels as warm as his heart. 

[mrs-johansson]

Chapter 5: Avengers: Age of Ultron - Two Ghosts

Part 10:

“I found something crazy. I have sent the scans to everyone I know and they all agreed with my theory,” Dad paced around his lab as I went to pick up Katarina from him. I was sitting in front of him with my daughter in my lap. “Just tell me already,” I sighed and he pressed his watch. Holograms hovered above us, scans of a brain to be specific. “Who’s brain is this?” I asked and he pointed at Katarina. “Am I supposed to see something?” “Do you see this lump here?” He pointed at the scans. “Yeah.” He pressed his watch again and other scans came up too. “This is my brain. This part is responsible for our speech and hearing. You see no lump here. And on her scans you see it.” He explained. “Okay, you just proved why she can’t talk.” “But that’s the tricky part. My tests said that it was formed after her birth. And it was not natural. I’ve found super soldier serum in her veins, but there was way too much for a half-blood. I think they injected her with the super soldier serum and once they found out it made her death mute, they gave up on her. And with the right treatment, I think Katarina would be able to hear without the hearing aid and she could speak,” he said with so much enthusiasm and the scans and tests just showed up in front of me. “This… this is crazy.”

***

For the next week, we visited different kinds of doctors and everyone said that it was a very hard procedure. This is how we ended up in Seattle. I’ve been doing my research also, and I’ve found Dr. Shepherd, a neurosurgeon who is known for his risky surgeries.

Natasha was kind enough to come with me and Katarina to Seattle. We were already settled into the room when Dr. Shepherd arrived with a smaller crew of interns I guess. “Good morning, Ms. Stark, and Ms. Romanoff, a pleasure to meet you both,” we shook hands and greeted him before turning his attention to Katarina. One of the interns presented the case then he got to work. “Hey, you. I’m gonna examine you real quick, okay?” He spoke to her gently. He was a kind-looking man so I think she will be just fine. “I’ve reviewed the scans and tests that you sent over and we’ve already come up with a plan. It’s a long procedure since it’s a very precise process. I would have to access her brain from the back of her head. It’s never been done. I can’t promise you 100% success but I’m the best at what I do and I wouldn’t try this if it wasn’t possible.” “What if the procedure doesn’t work?” Asked Natasha. “She could lose her hearing and her voice permanently.” “So you’re saying you can do this,” I spoke and he nodded. “Okay, let’s do it. If there’s a small chance then that’s her.” I said hopefully. “Thank you for your trust, we’ll be back shortly to prep her for the surgery.”

They left the room and it was just the two of us. “Don’t you think you should take some time to consider this? It’s very risky,” said Natasha, and I shook my head. “He’s the best and he says he can do it, then he will do it. I read him. He seems confident. Katarina has proven over time and time again that she’s a miracle, I don’t think this is any different.”

“Dr. Shepherd will try to help you speak. He’s gonna put you to sleep and the next thing you’ll know is we’re back here. Do you want me to bring you anything after?” I asked Katarina. She thought about it for a second before smiling at me. “A cheeseburger,” she said and I nodded. “With fries? Maybeee… a milkshake?” I smirked and she excitedly nodded. “Okay, it’ll be here when you wake up.” “We’re ready Ms. Stark,” came in an intern. “Alright, I love you, honey.” I let out a deep sigh as I pulled my daughter into a tight hug. “You’ll be okay, дорогая(darling),” I kissed her head and she sat back on the bed. Natasha stepped up to the bed and to my surprise, she started speaking Russian. “Ты самая сильная маленькая девочка, которую я знаю. Надеюсь, когда ты проснешься, ты сможешь рассказать мне, что дядя Клинт сделал с моей курткой.(You’re the strongest little girl I know. When you wake up I hope you can tell me what Uncle Clint did to my jacket.)” She said and Katarina put her pinky up and they shook on it.

Once they rolled her out of the room, I couldn’t think. I just wanted her to have this, to be able to speak.

***

14 hours. 14 hours since the surgery started. With updates from the OR, we knew Katarina was fine and that they were working. “It has to work,” I said while staring at the wall. “It will. You said it, he wouldn’t do it if couldn’t,” Nat said, now believing what I thought about the situation.

The next moment, the door opened, and Dr. Shepherd walked in with two other doctors. I shot up from my seat and stopped breathing. “How was it?” I asked. “Katarina is doing well. She’s resting still, but she’s okay. I got to the right part of the brain and it seems she will be able to speak but we’ll have to wait for her to wake up,” he said with a big smile and I just had to hug him. “Thank you!” I said and he chuckled. “My pleasure, but we still have to do some tests to make sure she will speak.”

We were able to sit by Katarina’s bed and I just couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I looked for any signs of her waking up. Natasha finally dozed off in the chair in the corner. I think she hasn’t slept since we got to Seattle so I’m glad she’s finally getting a nap.

A doctor came in to check on my daughter every 30 minutes and about two hours later she finally started to move her hands. “Rina, baby,” I called out and reached for her small hand. “Romanoff, wake up,” threw my sweatshirt on her and she was quick to sit up straight. “I’ll get the nurse,” she stood up and rushed out of the room.

Katarina gently held onto my hand and my heart just calmed down really fast. She looked alright and that’s all that matters to me at the moment.

Moments passed and she was smiling in no time. A little loopy but she was awake and responsive which is definitely a good sign.

“Heard Katarina is awake,” Dr. Shepherd walked in with Natasha following behind. “Yes, she seems okay,” I said and smiled at my smiley little girl.

Dr. Shepherd did some basic tests before he finally got to the important part. “Okay now… Katarina, can you make the sound that a cow does? Moo,” he asked. Rina looked at me and I know she was very unsure about this. “Come on baby, you can do it,” I caressed her hand. She looked back at Shepherd and opened her mouth. “Mo-o,” she said kind of slowly but she said.

Tears filled my eyes and I just couldn’t believe what was happening. “Let’s try your name, Katari-“ “Katarina Stark!” She said smoothly and the tears just ran down my cheeks.

***

“Yeah, she’s speaking. We’re gonna get home tonight so maybe we can meet tomorrow,” I spoke on the phone with Dad. “That would be great. Tell her grandpa loves her,” he said and I smiled at his words. “I will. Talk to you later then. Love you.” “Love you, darling.”

“Natalia, your clothes are everywhere. My false three-year-old is more organized than you.” I packed all of my clothes into my suitcase. Natasha and Katarina were currently running around the hotel room. The sound of Katarina’s laughter filled the whole suit and how could anyone be mad about that? Putting away the last piece of clothing, I made my way to the living room, perfect timing to catch Katarina as she made her way to the bedroom.

“Okay, we need to get going missy. Natalia, the next time I have to pack for you, I’ll throw your clothes out the window,” I pointed at her and she laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll get the bags, let's go.”

***

After a couple of weeks without missions and only training the new members of the Avengers, it was finally time to get missions. It was a mission for Clint and me, nothing big but we could finally get out of the base.

“I’m ready to kick some ass if you ask me,” walked into the weaponry. “Oh, same. Sparing with Steve is just boring now,” I sighed as I picked knives from a drawer. “I feel you, dude. No offense but all Nat talks about is you and Katarina these days, and I understand that she’s happy again but damn…” I chuckled at his response and nodded my head. “Yeah, sorry about that.” “It’s fine. I’m glad you two are getting better,” he patted my shoulder before we made our way to the Quinjet.

Successfully taking off we went over the plan once more. “Right, so, it’s a smaller warehouse but we know that they keep weapons here. We still don’t know the name of the terrorist group’s name but we know that they have been operating weapon sales and multiple terror attacks. Our main goal is to retrieve as much information as possible and clear out the warehouse. The information is that there are about 15 guards around so we should be fine. Clint, you take the ground floor and I enter through the roof. We’ll call if we need backup but I think we’ll handle it. Any questions?” I turned around to look at the few people on board. “No, ma’am,” Clint said as a joke but there weren't any questions so we just waited to get to Juneau, Alaska.

Once we safely landed a couple miles away from the warehouse we started to move fast since it was really cold. “Drew, activate heating pads,” I spoke out as we walked in the snow. “Heating pads activated.” As soon as the warmth filled my body I could feel my powers flowing in my veins. “That’s totally not fair,” Clint grumbled as he walked beside me. “Oh don’t be a baby, I got you a vest,” I reached into my pocket and got the small device which I then placed on his back and pressed the button. It built itself around Clint’s torso and immediately activated the heating pads. “Oh my god! It’s like a blanket,” he hugged himself like he just got into the warmth of his home. “Just don’t melt.”

Dealing with these guys wasn’t any trouble. We had an easy way in and retrieved all the information we needed. After we took care of the guards we looked through the weapons. Clint found some cool arrows and I saw some crazy bombs. There was a big variety of ammunition but I just wanted to make sure I looked through the office once more before we left.

Went through every drawer, every shelf but then I saw a weird book on one of them. I tried to pick it up but then suddenly the shelf moved to the side and it revealed a vault. With ease, I melted the door off and what I saw was shocking. Dozens of tubes filled with glowing metal. “Clint you gotta come up here,” I said in the comms. “What’s up?” “I think we just found a Vibranium dealer.”

****************************************************

That would be the end of Chapter 5. I haven’t had much time to write so it took a while to finish but it’s here, so thank you for the patience.

Chapter 6 - Dark Phoenix 2: Emergence of conflagration is the next era and I’ll try to update that more frequently. It’s gonna be a fun chapter I think so I’ll hope you’ll like it. Until then enjoy what’s out and pray that Natasha will come back into the MCU.🕷️

[gojo-mochi]

OOOOO BESTIE !! Can I give Law a treat ?! 🍬🍬🍬🍬💖💖💖 🤭🤭🤭🤭 you're so precious AA

Geez, Law, How come Softy let you have two treats?! (See law other treat here hehe)

And HII SWEETIE MWAH MWAH THANK YOU &lt;3

“That’s salt not sugar, sweetie. Now, I know just because you’re usually grumpy and salty that you like things on the more salty side, but no one is going to eat these cakes if we add in 2 cups of salt.” You grab the container of white powder out of Law’s hand and replace it with a different container also containing a white powder. Law exhales out, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he whips the bowl of ingredients together. “That's why I said you should label these, they all look the same to me.” Law voices call out to you as you go to set the oven temperature. 

“Then you know how I feel when you ask me to help out in the lab.” You retorted back with a smile. “Oy! At least I label my items.” “Yeah, but I can’t tell the differences between ‘Aripiprazole’ and ‘Anastrozole’ when they sound the same.” You bend down to grab some trays when you hear Law mutter under his breath; “They don’t sound the same..” You roll your eyes at him, setting down the tray as Law finishes whipping the batter together. 

You were thankful that Law had a keen eye for measuring out ingredients even if he couldn't tell the difference between them, after working in the lab and measuring precise measurements for pills and liquids. He was quite useful when it came to baking just as long as he followed your directions to the letter, that is, with some grumbles here and there, your confectionery creations were always a big hit with the crew. Today was a special kind of bake day as you were making red velvet cake with ‘bloodied’ raspberries sauce on top and in the filling, in honor of the holiday spirit. 

The cake batter was ready and whipped to perfection by law, as you ogled his biceps for a bit, wanting to take a bite of it as well. He looks over at you with a knowing smirk but you said nothing as you took the bowl from him and started to pour it in the cake trays. Around four of them to be precise, two double layered cakes for the whole crew to enjoy later. Law helped you pop them in the oven as you get another bowl ready for the raspberries filling. 

The raspberries were already diced and simmered down and cooled so you just unceremoniously dumped them in the bowl with the rest of the things you needed and began to whip them together yourself while Law watches. “You sure, you don’t need help with that, Y/N-ya?” He leans down to your level, propping an elbow up on the table. You bump your elbow into his side; “I think I can handle some raspberries by myself.” You made a show of turning the whisk extra hard to show off but whiffing it and causing some of the filling to splatter out onto Law’s face. 

A smear of red and fruity sauce painted itself across Law’s nose and cheek. You gasp out, holding a hand over your mouth as you struggle not to laugh at the sight. “Sorry, honey, let me get that for you.” You took some paper towels and went to wipe the sauce off while Law stared down at you, when your hand got close to his face, he grabbed your wrist and tenderly bit down on your finger. “Hey! What was that for?!” You shivered and almost moaned as Law swiped his tongue around your finger, 

Draggin you forward to meet with him, chest to face, as he tilts his head down, his lips hovering over yours. “Close your eyes..” He whispers, voice husky and flowy. You followed his command, closing your eyes down and waiting for his lips to meet with yours. When you felt an odd, wet, and sticky feeling on your lips instead, opening them to find Law swiping some of the raspberries sauce on your lips, “He-mmph!” As you part your lips to yell at him, he shoves his finger in, coating your tongue in the sugary flavoring. 

This time, moans came out freely as Law took his finger out, soaked in your spit and replaced it with his tongue. Catching a few licks of the remaining sauce on your tongue. Wet slurping noises filled the kitchen air as you two stayed in this moment for a while, only breaking apart to catch some air. Law licks his lips as he takes the bowl away from you and starts whisking it himself.

 “The sauce tasted good but a little lumpy. I told you, you needed my help.” The kitchen was later covered in a strange red liquid as you took the bowl back and threw it at Law. The both of you disappear to ‘help clean each other up’, forgetting about the sweet treats you planned to bake and indulging in a different kind of treat for the night…

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #114

Today is another zombie brain day. Up too late. But that's all right. I still managed to be a little productive today.

I discovered that I can scrape off any inconsistencies of the dried UV spray from the amethyst tree orb with a precision knife. From there, I can reapply the spray and it looks good. It's certainly not perfect, but good enough is good enough, methinks (wow, am I actually writing that out loud? who am I and what have I done with myself?).

Nonetheless, I'm starting to wonder if the thing to do for future applications is to apply some other kind of UV-resistant gloss onto the sphere with a paintbrush. This sphere should be done in a couple days - just enough time to allow the current layer of UV spray to dry and all that. Then I'll send it off to its intended recipient.

I made a bowl of yesterday's fried rice for breakfast; as it turns out, the results did, in fact, taste as good as it smelled when I was making it! Goodness, but I wish I could give you a bowl...

I also made myself some of the biscuit-flavored tea. This tea on its own mostly just tastes like ordinary tea, but I discovered that if you add a little molasses and honey to it, the result tastes pretty much exactly like Biscoff cookies, and Biscoff cookies are pretty good! I'll show you some pictures of how it turned out; I love to watch the fluid dynamics in action as the cold cream swirls into the hot tea:

I made an appointment to get 4 of my teeth yanked so that I can get braces. That'll happen in June, I guess. I really don't wanna have teeth removed, but there really is no other way to get the rest of the inside of my face in alignment; apparently the crowding is bad enough that if we wanted to pull my molars back to where my wisdom teeth used to be, we would have to put screws in my mouth as an anchor point, and even then, it likely won't work out in the way we'd hope. Having screws just randomly hanging out in my face seems thoroughly unpleasant, so… whatever. Maybe I'll ask if I can keep the removed teeth. Maybe I'll make something cool out of 'em, even if I dunno what it is yet.

M, J, and I went out to a place called Galleria 7 for lunch. It's got a variety of shops where you can get all different kinds of food; it's the same place where M and I got those awesome empanadas and the not-quite-pasta-pescatore. Somehow, I failed to notice last time that the empanada shop sells handmade Ecuadorean trinkets; I got a woven bracelet and a floral pendant, but not for the purpose you might think…

The colorful bracelet and the floral pendant go nicely with the kerchief, I think. I got the kerchief for you a while ago. I have long hair, too, so I use them to help keep my hair out of my face sometimes. I'll show you a picture of me wearing one so that you get the idea:

Kerchiefs are handy and colorful things suit you nicely. But it's not as though I can tie a kerchief around your head. It's not as though I can tuck pretty flowers behind your ear. It's not as though I can tie a ribbon in your hair, or gift you a colorful top to wear. I can't give you the locket of your mother that I made for you. So this little bit will have to do. It's not much, I know. But… still… you deserve nice things and nurturing things, no matter how small. I have to hope that what little I can do is enough.

Anyway, I somehow managed to engage the kindly shopkeep from whom I bought the trinkets in lively conversation. I showed her some of the handicrafts I've made, and she expressed an interest in displaying any of my works at her shop. What a fascinating concept. Suppose I'm gonna hafta get on making more orbs…

…Aside from that, I've not done much else today. I'm struggling a little bit to avoid succumbing to old thoughts, given a few things going on in my immediate vicinity, and a few not-so-small insecurities I'm dealing with (long story; I'm not gonna get into it). But I'll be all right. Most of it's just growing pains. They'll pass as I level up. Don't you worry about me, okay? I've got this. I promise.

…I'm gonna try to actually go to bed on time today. In the meantime, I'm gonna try to rest, though I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with myself; at the moment, even Salting some Sanctuaries seems hard… Oh well.

Hey, you - you're loved. You're wanted. You're needed. And not because of what you can do or because of what you look like, but because of who you are. There are people here who wanna tie kerchiefs in your hair to make things a little easier for you. There are people who wanna tuck flowers behind your ear in hopes that it will make you feel good about yourself. There are people who wanna tie ribbons in your hair so that way when you look in the mirror, you can see someone who shines with the care that is given to you. There are people who would try to return to you sentimental items that you've lost.

Sephiroth. You're not alone. And no amount of telling yourself that you're alone will ever make it true. So please come back to us soon; we're waiting for you with open arms and joyful voices, ready to welcome you back home.

I love you. I'll write again very soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 15, Part 2 (Lost and Found, Aka The One Where Rory Loses Dean's Shitty Bracelet)

Part 1 and all previous commentary here. I should start renaming these things "Gilmore Girls 10 Minutes At A Time" because right now that's about all I can get through per day before Lorelai has me grinding my teeth into a fine powder. Luke and Jess are checking out some houses because Luke is totally going to move out to a new house in the middle of season 2. Luke and Jess have looked at about a half dozen apartments and they squabble over minor imperfections of each one, whether it be pink paint on the walls or an excess amount of windows. To both Jess and Luke: I would implore you both to be a little less stubborn and just take anything with two bedrooms. Your lives will drastically improve with any two bedroom apartment. Better yet, keep turning down every apartment in Stars Hollow until you've reached the next town. Continue this process until you're both living in another state completely. Jess eventually whatevers- I dont cares- you pick the place out of the situation because he's due at Lorelai's in 20 minutes to get treated like used gum on the bottom of her shoe and get paid in stale jelly beans. And we get a SadBaby™ quote.

Let's play another game of "What the hell is that: early 2000's gadget edition"

What the hell is that? VHS rewinder thingymabob.

Oh. It's just a clock. A clock that plays cds and makes barnyard noises. Would you look at that. Another one of my favorite mini games to play while watching gilmore girls is "Determining how an object is going to be integral to the plot of the episode". This is Gilmore GIrls so we are seeing this clock for a reason. This clock won't just show up and disappear with no further explanation. It always means something. Please say Lorelai hides her squealing State of the Art CD player pig clock when Jess arrives because she thinks he is going to steal it. PLEASE. I promise it's been long enough since I've seen the show that I don't know if that actually happens but I put nothing past her. Nothing. Let's take a break to Admire The Baby:

Although he may flake out on dates with Rory and skip school, our little Employee of the Month is always on time for work.

Narrator: He would not be getting his own room.

#AdmireTheBaby #Quick #BeforeLorelaiShowsUp

Narrator: Lorelai Gilmore did not find Jess Mariano's arrival to be all that terrific.

Nevermind moving down the street in Stars Hollow, he's hoping for that Male Gilmore Characters California Wormhole to suck him up and transport him to the opposite end of the country to get away from this hell. He still has to suffer for another season and a half before that'll happen. Jess is this emoji: 😐

Narrator: She was not trying. Rory gives Jess the ol Razzle Dazzle: "Why don't you talk more?" or more precisely "Why don't you talk around my mother"?

Why is Jess supposed to trust and adore and respect this random woman he doesn't know, who he sees pawing at his uncle he also doesn't know, a random strange woman who is very transparent in her feelings about him, who is transparently suspicious of him for no reason, someone so full of shit that he can see right through her when no one else can or will admit to it. WHAT I'M GETTING AT IT IS: Is he supposed to be happy to be in her presence or something? Why should he have anything to say? He's only doing this because of a rock solid work ethic, and I’d say because he hopes to earn some money. But I’d hate to dash poor Baby’s hopes about making any money and inform him that his uncle and his uncle’s weird friend agreed he could be paid subpar wages.

I think everyone in Stars Hollow is two faced anyway. They act like they like her but you know Patty and Babette talk shit nonstop about Lorelai when she's not around. Kinda like me.

Honey, you can just keep your pretty little mouth quiet around her and let me do all the shit talking.

Why? Even Rory is still more or less a stranger to him at this point, an acquaintance or loose friend at best (we know this because minutes earlier, Lorelai had Lorelai Thoughts about Rory saying Jess was a casual friend). Why does he have to please her mom? Rory says she went out on a limb to try to convince her mother that Jess was a good person. This is true. But why is she even wasting her breath trying to convince Lorelai when her mother clearly refuses to listen. It’s a hopeless endeavor. Jess does not even owe Lorelai the time of day so stop asking him to be nice to her.

#AdmireTheBaby Rory: It wouldn't hurt you to be nice to my mom. Jess: Why? Rory: Because she's my mom and a friend of Luke's. Jess: So? Just because she's your Mom or Luke's friend doesn't mean I automatically have to get along with her. Thank you for doing the work for me, babes. Mwah.

Fixed it with some flawless editing. Rory: If you care about me at all you'll be mildly polite to my mother.

GOT HER! :) #SharpAsATack

Mmm. Do go on.

I just skipped ahead to see what was happening at the 20 minute mark and it's Dean and I can't complain because yesterday I was literally begging for him to show up to divert the plot away from Lorelai even for a minute. Thank you Dean. Thank you. I am eagerly anticipating your whining and sulking at the book fair.

#AdmireTheBaby

We have been blessed with another Milo Ventimiglia Okuh. An okuh is like a soothing balm that makes everything better.

#AdmireTheBaby.

YAYYYY ITS DEAN! HOORAY FOR DEAN! DEAN DEAN DEAN DEAN.

Taylor's back on his bullshit I see. What are we raising money for, err should I say what cause is Taylor stealing money from? Please tell me it's the Bridge so I can divert my Lorelai Rage into Bridge Rage and Dean Rage. I'm a bit delirious right now. Amy Sherman Palladino: This character Dean likes to read books. No, sports. No, books again. No, he rides a motorcycle. Wait, books again. Softball? Dean hates to read. HOCKEY. Here is Dean early in season 1 contrasted with Dean halfway into season 2 (still wearing that smelly leather coat too):

I am particularly delighted whenever the 3 Dean Forrester fans in existence try to use Dean telling Rory "I watched you browse for books for two hours" as an example of his devotion to Rory. As you can see by this display of unbridled enthusiasm, he clearly wants to be here with her. When Rory disputes that it’s been that long and feels guilty for boring him, he shows her his watch to prove to her its been two hours. Dean Forrester is a stale chicken nugget that's been laying on the floor for 4 days. You know what would make everyone happy? Jess and Dean switching places. Dean could go over to Lorelai's and spend some time "cleaning her gutters" and Jess and Rory could enjoy the book fair. God, in what universe is it fucking fair that DEAN is the one who gets to accompany Rory to a book sale and he just acts like a miserable turd. While Jess is missing the book fair to work for Lorelai? UGH. I hear Rory's voice screaming "WHAT'S UP QUIPPY! WHY SO SILENT!" at Paris but my inner monologue is screaming "WHAT'S UP AMY! WHY COULDN'T JESS GO TO THE BOOK FAIR? HUH? WHY SO SILENT?! AMY!" Literally the only thing to ever happen in Stars Hollow that he would enjoy and voluntarily attend and instead he's slopping some bitch's gutters. I maxed out my 30 screen shots and I can't delete any of Baby so this three ring shit circus will spill into a part 3. See ya soon.