#talking about something that isn’t relationships

[gloomwitchwrites]

aftercare with the boys???

Okay, but I love this question. The wonderful thing about aftercare is that it doesn’t need to be complicated and intricate for it to be effective. Good aftercare is tailored to the couple (or multiples if there are more than two people engaging in sex). But also, not everyone is great at aftercare, and figuring out what works for you might take some trial and error. And let’s also be realistic here, not all of the 141 is going to knock it out of the park…they are human after all.

MDNI

written w/ gn!reader

John Price

Seasoned and experienced, Price understands that aftercare is the standard, not the exception.

Whether it’s just a casual one-night affair, or a long-term relationship, Price goes out his way to make sure aftercare happens.

Price doesn’t assume what your needs are. Instead, he presents options before sex happens. There are a few things that come standard like getting you a glass of water, but there are more specific things he wants to know like whether or not you want a shower afterward, and if you want to take that shower alone or with him.

His favorite form of aftercare involves physical touch. If you’re open to it, Price wants a good cuddle with lots of intimacy.

He’s more than happy to chat you up afterward if you need that. Or, if you just need to yap and for him to stay quiet, he can do that, too.

Affirmations, affirmations, affirmations.

Will follow up with you the next day via text or call to make sure you’re doing okay.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

A firm supporter of aftercare.

He’s not one to fuck and leave. Kyle prefers the long-term commitment. He likes the intimacy.

Won’t ask you before sex what you need for aftercare, but will ask after it’s all done. Kyle keeps a list of different options and will cycle through them depending on how intense the sex was. If the two of you engaged in rougher sex, he’s more likely to try and focus on taking care of you physically.

Will take the initiative on a few things like getting you a glass of water and providing snacks (or ordering delivery.)

Prefers giving massages instead of cuddling (but doesn’t hate the cuddling.)

Does enjoy watching a movie or television show after as a distraction.

Conversation and closeness post-sex is extremely important to him.

John “Soap” MacTavish

This goober doesn’t even know that aftercare is an important part of sex. It takes him a bit to figure it out y’all.

That being said, it’s not until Johnny becomes entangled in a serious relationship that the pieces start to fall into place for him.

While others may go for a more sensual approach, Johnny is all about comfort and having a laugh.

When he cuddles, he cuddles hard, and if you try to wiggle away, think again.

Lots of talking, chatting, and verbal affirmations. This man isn’t only telling you how much he loves you, or that he had a lot of fun, but also is doing his best to make you smile and even laugh.

He is the kind of aftercare partner that is absolutely looking up memes and funny videos for the two of you to watch together.

Would have edibles at the ready (if you want them) and endless snacks.

Open to watching something on television or a movie but make it low stakes. Needs to be a comedy or a trashy reality show.

If the two of you bathe or shower, it’s together. No exception.

Lots of touching.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Aftercare is a complicated topic when it comes to Simon.

If he’s only there to get his dick wet, don’t expect aftercare. He will get you off, and find his own release, but don’t expect too much after the fact. But he won’t be a brute or an asshole either.

Aftercare comes when you least expect it, when the casual starts to become serious.

It happens almost accidentally, or rather suddenly, and completely on Simon’s terms.

Perhaps the two of you were engaging in some rough sex—at least rougher than normal—and Simon notices some bruising/tender skin. Maybe when he bit down, he drew blood, even if he didn’t mean to.

He immediately starts cleaning you up, tending to any marks he finds. It’s not a quick dab of a cloth but a full onceover. Simon observers every inch of you, checking to make sure you’re fine.

He does a verbal check in as well, because he understands that a physical check isn’t always enough.

Afterwards, he’s taking you for a bath or shower.

Then, it’s an ice pack or heating pad if you need it.

Don’t expect an outpouring of affection, but he will provide a few affirmations to reassure you.

And he will cuddle. It won’t be anything tight or super close, but rather an arm around you to draw you closer to him.

main masterlist

[okwonyo]

THE COCKROACH──── ୨୧ 성훈𓈒

✶ 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝑜𝑛𝑒⠀ㅤ𓈒⠀ 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖻𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾. 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾.

neighbor!sunghoon & fem!rea 1OOO potential future relationship ㅇㅅㅇ skinship ⎯⎯ recue𝒾l

嘉 ܃ this is so silly and this isn’t my best work but .. i like it 🎀

reblogs ♡ feedbacks please + daily

being overdramatic has never been one of your characteristics. despite what some of your friends say, you think that you are rather rational when it comes to your emotions as well as the way you manage them.

you know how to control your fear especially. you swear, you are not the kind to get scared of the smallest things. fear doesn’t take over you easily at all.

however, if there was something that you could admit, it would be your dislike for certain creatures and your blood’s tendency to go cold at the sight of them.

it isn’t your fault, whenever you see one of those barely noticeable insects with multiple legs and arms, you can’t restrain disgust to get to you. and yes, seeing one of them always makes you scream at the top of your lungs. today is no different.

that scream is loud enough to make your throat hurt a tad. it keeps on getting worse the longer you look at the cockroach in front of you. when it moves on your not-so-brand-new apartment’s floor, you run out of your own home.

perhaps, you aren’t thinking straight or perhaps, it’s just the way you are— but you find yourself jumping in the arms of the first person you encounter, without taking a look at their face first.

your entire weight landing onto them without any warning doesn’t make them stumble, therefore you assume they are muscular.

under your fingertips, you feel their muscles, their broad shoulders are comfortable enough for your arm wrapped around them. it must be a man, you can tell at that.

as well as by his deep voice when he asks, “what’s going on?”

it is as if you are at a higher altitude than you were when you stand on your couch earlier. he is well built and tall, which is impressive. but it is not your main concern.

“i’m sorry, it’s just that—” you start, a little out of breath. you want to continue, but you turn your head towards the man and your breath catches. half of your voice dies in your chest, “there is a cockroach in my apartment.”

the man who lives in the apartment in front of yours looks right back at you. you observed him often since you moved in a few weeks ago, but you never caught his name.

it’s the first time you see him out of his work suit, including the first time you see him without the black tank top he wears at the gym. his long hair is quite messy, he isn’t wearing his glasses. on top of everything, he doesn't look bothered by your position in the slightest.

“do you need any help?” the handsome man offers. funnily enough, you are confused about what he is talking about.

however, he is too beautiful for you to refuse, “uh, yeah.”

your neighbor manages to make you stand back on the floor without you noticing. you are too absorbed in staring at him to see anything else. your eyes follow him while he gets into your apartment.

from behind him, you can see how broad his shoulders actually are, bigger than you thought they were, wider than when you see them from afar while you work out. he is even taller than you thought, taller than when you watch him get into the elevator on his way home.

you follow him like it’s not where you live, standing behind him and peeking at the paper cup that you used as jail for the ugly insect.

his big figure protects you so you feel safe enough to say, “it’s in that paper cup.”

the said paper cup moves slightly and you gasp. at the sound you let out, the man’s arm raises slightly beside him in a protective gesture.

“stay behind me,” he tone is soft as he starts speaking again. “i’ll take care of it.”

you don’t know him at all. yet, seeing him walking towards the spray on the table next to the trapped cockroach makes you understand what a wife feels when she sees her husband leaving for war.

attractiveness lays in his moves, how he rolls up his sleeves, how he squats down almost nonchalantly, how he sprays the cockroach in the paper cup. everything he does makes your heartbeats go faster.

you spend most of your time admiring the beauty in front of you than anything else. your gaze lingers on his exposed forearms, on his side profile, on his fingers. your heart burst in your chest when his voice reaches you:

with a reassuring and victorious grin, “i think it’s dead.”

you stare at him in pure admiration. with more admiration than when you see him lift seventy bench at the gym. “thank you so much, uh—”

your knight in shining armor begins to come back to you with his grin still plastered on his face. “sunghoon.”

“a–ah, right!” you say in an awkward laugh. “how can i repay you?”

sunghoon stops in the middle of his way back to you to put the spray on the tabe again, “there is no need,” he chuckles, in most beautiful way you have heard. “i didn’t do much.”

you want to protest but he gets well too close for you to think straight.

“it’s going to take a while before it dies properly, though,” he continues. “and you shouldn’t stay there. because of the toxic product you know?”

you didn’t know that. still, you nod at his words.

“so..” the tall man looks like he is waiting for you to understand something, where he is going. but you don’t— maybe it’s because of the said toxic product or the otherworldly guy in front of you.

he bites his lower lip when he realizes that you are still confused. he finishes his sentence with a huge smile that showcases all his teeth, fangs included.

“do you want to come to my apartment and wait?” it must be written all over your face, how you didn’t expect this outcome in the slightest. because his smile gets wider, “we’ll come back later to see if the cockroach is really dead.”

your stomach flutters, your tongue gets tangled. being so smooth and straight forward wasn’t what you expected him to be.

it’s hard but you manage to choke out, “s–sure.”

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[just-a-living-meat-thing]

L Lawliet:

- everyone assumes she’s a man until she actually stands up straight (better yet. she’s absolutely non-passing, only socially transitioned, and everyone assumes she’s a man until Watari refers to her with she/her pronouns. If anyone calls her by any other pronouns she pretends not to hear or just stares blankly until they get it right)

- honestly wouldn’t change that much; L is pretty disconnected from gender as it is

- probably started socially transitioning before she was in her preteens. I don’t think she put much thought into it or figuring out the labels for her gender, I think she just wanted to experiment a little and then found out that it actually fit so much better than her assigned gender

- the only physical difference would be that she allows her hair to grow out just a little bit longer than in canon, but only by like, an inch or two

- is most likely agender but prefers only she/her pronouns, especially when she’s talking in Japanese

Light Yagami:

- REPRESSED REPRESSED REPRESSED REPRESSED REPRESSED—

- probably is not actually a binary trans woman; I think she’d fluctuate between many pronouns. Light is transfemme genderfluid to me (but they would never know it)

- she’d never dive too deep into her own feelings of discomfort and shame regarding his body or their role in life; Light would probably chalk it up to her general malaise for life and simply ignore it. Plus, being genderfluid/genderqueer, they probably wouldn’t feel the Dysphoria™️ alllll the time, so she’d feel safe to just disregard any odd feelings of discontent and categorize them as normal growing up experiences

- she does get euphoria at being called “pretty” or “cute”. It’s why she has a 15 step skin routine—despite the clothes he wears and the otherwise masculine persona she keeps up, sometimes people struggle, just for a moment, to determine her gender. Light ultimately never transitions (he doesn’t have the self-aware capacity for that) but she does dream about it sometimes (they never tell anyone, not even Ryuk, and they die with more lies in her throat that even she isn’t aware of)

- L picks up on this and at one point tries to broach the subject but Light gets too defensive and they just end up fighting again. L never brings it up again, and by the time Light could’ve maybe been willing to listen, it’s too late

- Light allows Misa to paint his nails clear just twice a year. He hides the euphoria it gives her, acts annoyed and embarrassed every time, playing up the long-suffering dutiful boyfriend act, but doesn’t actually mind all that much

Matsuda:

- hidden disconnect from her actual gender identity exacerbates her constant feelings of failure, loneliness, and her inability to keep romantic relationships

- she likely doesn’t start figuring things out until after the Kira Case is over, and she has too much time to herself to drown in her grief

- I also doubt that Matsuda would be open with her gender until at least years later. And at that point, she might feel as if it were too late, that she might as well just be Matsuda, and nothing else (someone please show her I Saw The TV Glow)

- has a lot of internalized shame over her identity and feels as though she would be letting a lot of people down if she came out

- she also has butch vibes to me. More loser butch transfemmes with big sopping hearts please!!

Near:

- pretty much the same as L, but he doesn’t care what pronouns people use for her. Most people who meet her after she grows her hair out use she/her pronouns, and after a while they just stuck. Near doesn’t really care either way

- likes making people guess her gender and watching them squirm as they struggle to get the “right” answer

- like Matsuda, also probably transitioning a few years after the Kira case. Unlike Matsuda, she didn’t realize they were transitioning until one of her team said something awkwardly, clumsily, supportive and she was like “? Is that what I’ve been doing?”

- does not ever surgically transition or take estrogen; the process would be too tedious to her and she doesn’t mind the body she already has

Benoit Blanc:

- literally nothing changes she just starts going by she/her now whenever she’s on a case

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: What's Aligning For You Right Now ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

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I. II. III.

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Hey there! Welcome to another PAC reading on my blog page—I hope you all enjoy it! Comment down what you felt about the reading and if it resonated with you and show some love, Your support means everything to me!<3

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

Get your own personalized paid reading here! it would really help me out!😊🦋

My KO-FI link: HERE🫶🏻

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⋆｡𖦹°Pile I

This is BIG ENERGY. Like, "your life is lowkey about to pop off, and you don’t even see it yet" kind of energy. First up, we got The Empress—HELLO, divine feminine energy, abundance, and glowing-up-in-ways you don’t even realize vibes. This tells me that you are stepping into a MAJOR era of self-worth, creativity, and straight-up receiving what is meant for you. Whether you’re manifesting love, success, money, or just being THAT person, the Empress says, “It’s coming, babe, and it’s gonna be lush.” You might not even be actively trying to manifest these things—it’s just that your energy is aligning so well that the universe is like, yep, here you go! (No crumbs, full meal.) BUT THEN—BOOM—Judgement enters the chat. Now, THIS is the wake-up call. The clarity moment. The "oh sh*t, that’s why everything was happening that way" realization. A lot of you might be going through a phase where you’re looking back at your past and feeling like things are finally making sense—why certain relationships didn’t work, why you had to go through those L’s, why you’ve been feeling so drawn to new things lately. So if you’ve been feeling kinda introspective, maybe questioning your path, maybe getting random signs from the universe—this is why. And now we have 8 of Wands—aka, the "FAST FORWARD BUTTON." This tells me that whatever you’re manifesting is not creeping in slowly—it is COMING IN HOT. Some of y’all might have already been feeling this shift. Maybe things in your life suddenly started moving quicker, new opportunities popping up, sudden changes happening, people coming out of nowhere. The energy here is SPEED—things aligning rapidly. (Also, random, but some of y’all might be getting sudden travel opportunities or long-distance connections being activated 👀). Finally, 4 of Wands—THE CELEBRATION CARD. Whatever you’re manifesting, it is leading to joy, stability, and even a major milestone moment. Some of you are literally manifesting a life upgrade—this could be moving, getting into a dream school or job, entering a healthy and stable relationship, or finally feeling at home within yourself. This card is giving “you made it” energy. Some of y’all might not even realize you’re on the path to manifesting a dream life moment, but spirit is like, SURPRISEEEE! 🎉

If any of this is resonating, congrats—you are literally aligning with something huge, and you might not even be seeing the full picture yet. But trust me, it’s coming. 🚀

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

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⋆｡𖦹°Pile II

Alright, Pile 2, let’s talk. You might not even realize it yet, but you are literally aligning with a whole new chapter—one that’s about emotional renewal, deep self-discovery, and finally getting the support you deserve. Let’s break it down.

Starting with The Hermit, and WOW, okay—this is BIG reflection energy. Y’all have been in self-discovery mode, whether you meant to or not. You might be isolating more than usual, questioning everything, feeling detached from old connections, or just vibing alone a lot. But here’s the thing: this isn’t just about being introverted or withdrawing from people. This is about a major internal shift—your soul is literally calling you to go inward because you’re about to level TF up emotionally and spiritually. The Hermit isn’t about loneliness—it’s about elevation. You may not see it yet, but everything that’s falling away is making room for the right people, opportunities, and emotional experiences to enter. And that brings me to the Ace of Cups—because BABE. This is big heart chakra energy. You are manifesting an emotional reset. Whether it’s new love, renewed self-love, healing, or finally feeling emotionally safe, the Ace of Cups is telling me your heart is about to be FULL again. Some of you have been feeling empty or emotionally exhausted. i see a fresh start for you people.

(Also, random, but if some of y’all have been having crazy vivid dreams or getting random emotional downloads, that’s your intuition waking up—pay attention.)

Some of you keep looking back at something that was already meant to be left behind. You are manifesting forward movement, but your energy keeps glancing in the rearview mirror. Lastly, we got the 3 of Pentacles—and this is so interesting because it’s a very different vibe from the rest of the spread. While The Hermit is about being alone, and the Ace of Cups + 8 of Cups reversed are about emotional healing, this card is all about collaboration, teamwork, and building something with others.

Translation? You’re manifesting the right people. Whether that’s soul-aligned friendships, a healthy romantic partner, creative collabs, or just finally feeling like you have a support system—this is confirmation that you won’t have to do it all alone forever. Your people are coming, and they’re going to actually SHOW UP for you.

Your message? Trust the process, stop looking back, and be open to receiving. What’s ahead is 10x better than what’s behind you. 🚀

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

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⋆｡𖦹° Pile III

PILE 3, you’re out here casually shifting timelines without even realizing it. 😭✨

10 of Cups is THE dream card. It’s giving ultimate happiness, soul-aligned relationships, emotional security, “I made it” energy. This is what’s aligning for you RIGHT NOW. But here’s the catch—you might not even see it yet. The universe is literally trying to serve you your happy ending on a silver platter, but are you even at the table?? Listen, love—you’ve been standing at a crossroads for too long. There’s a decision you’re either avoiding or feeling super stuck on. You’re second-guessing, hesitating, maybe even self-sabotaging. You say you want new experiences, but when the opportunity actually presents itself, you freeze? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. You’re manifesting a big life shift, but hesitation is slowing down the delivery.

queen of pentacles is the card coming through like a concerned bestie who knows you’re not drinking enough water or getting enough rest. Be honest—are you neglecting your own needs?Your manifestations NEED you to be in alignment. If you’re burnt out, overworked, or neglecting your well-being, you’re basically slamming the brakes on your own blessings. Take care of yourself so your manifestations can actually land. knight of wands comes and here’s where it gets spicy. This card is a fireball of movement, passion, and bold energy. Whatever you’ve been lowkey craving—whether it’s a person, a career move, or a fresh adventure—it’s on its way FAST. This is not a slow-burn manifestation; this is “strap in, babe, it’s happening. The energy is here. The drive, the passion, the opportunity—it’s all aligning. The real question is: will you be ready to receive it?

Bestie, you’re on the verge of something major. Your manifestation is already here, but your energy needs to match it. Prioritize yourself, make the move you’ve been afraid to make, and let the show begin. 🚀✨

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[no-144444]

nothing to say- l.norris

summary: based off of harry and karen's story in love actually

pairing: cheating! lando norris x fem! girlfriend! reader

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Lando had been quiet all evening. Actually, he’d been quiet since the end of the season. You’d put up with it for months, being the ever-loving girlfriend and doting on him, leaving him alone when he asked you to, and everything else. But he was still quiet. He’d be his regular loud and happy self when you were around friends, but the moment it was just you two, or even you two were near each other remotely, he shut down. You felt like you were the problem, like you’d done something wrong, and he wasn’t happy. You didn’t talk anymore, barely kissed, hadn’t had sex in months. He was more like a roommate than a boyfriend, and the whole PR relationship he had going on with Rebecca (some model who worked for Quadrant) wasn’t helping. They had to be seen together, they had to spend Valentine’s together, they had to spend your birthday together. 

“Lan?” your voice was laced with nerves and questioning, wondering if you should even do this. 

He grunted in response, eating his lunch quickly. 

“Are you happy?” you asked and his head snapped up, his eyes wide. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, shocked at your words. 

“I mean are you happy in our relationship?” you questioned. 

“Where is this coming from?” He asked the question, but there was a glimmer in his eye that gave it away. He knew what you were talking about. 

“We’re not really… dating anymore, are we?” you chuckled sadly. “We’re more like roommates.”

He shook his head, trying to find something to say, but… he had nothing to say. 

“Did you buy that gold necklace for her?” you asked, straight up. 

He was quiet, and then he nodded. He knew what you were talking about, your dream necklace, the one you’d been saving for your entire adult life. He’d bought it, but he’d given it to her.  “Yes.” 

“How long has this been going on?” you asked, pushing past the lump in your throat that was building. You were crushed. The man you loved was having an affair. Great. 

He sighed. “A few months.” 

You scoffed, looking down at your lap. “Wow. Great,” you took a deep breath. “What would you do in my shoes?”

He couldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Would you wait around to find out if it was just a necklace? Or if it’s a necklace and sex? Or if it’s a necklace, and you’re actually fucking in love with someone else, someone who isn’t me, and then I have to deal with the fact that I was lovable enough to be loved by you, but not enough to have you keep loving me,” you gritted out as you willed yourself not to cry. “Would you stay, even though you knew your life would always be just that bit worse?” 

You stared at him, your eyes brimming with tears, and an angry look on your face. 

He stared back. “I’m so in love with her,” he admitted. “And it’s so stupid, I feel like an idiot,” he shook his head, placing his head in his hands. 

“Yes, but,” your voice broke. “You’ve also made me an idiot,” you whispered as one single tear fell down your cheek. “You’ve made my life idiotic too.” 

You both sat there, in that silence. 

“I gave up everything for you,” you whispered. “I followed you around the world like the good little girlfriend I was, all for you to drop me for someone else. Someone who doesn’t even love you back,” you spat. “I hope you find something good in that relationship Lando, and I hope I hear nothing about it,” you said before getting up from that table, and leaving him forever.

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navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[littlelamy]

Rafe x Girl next door type/Sweet!Pouge Reader: He sees her at a party and he sets his eyes on her, wanting to hook up with her for the night and ditch her the next day. He gets surprised thought when he actually talks to her, how kind, sweet and genuine she is # and to also find out that she is the relationship girlfriend type that would never have sex with someone random # but does not end it right there with him then trying to find someone else for the night but actually find himself drawn to her and wanting to take care of her/protect her and offers to drive her home (and whatever else you can think of, just a suggestion)

lamy's notes: i hope you like it, angel!

the party is in full swing, neon lights flickering against the walls, bodies packed tight with the heady scent of sweat and liquor thick in the air. rafe cameron leans against the kitchen counter, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, half-full of something he’d stopped tasting an hour ago. his sharp blue eyes scan the crowd, predatory, practiced, already picking out his next conquest.

then he sees��you.

it isn’t like the other girls he usually finds himself entangled with. no plunging neckline, no practiced sultry gaze or desperate attempt to get his attention. you’re different—sweet-looking, soft around the edges, the kind of girl who smiles at people like she means it. the kind of girl who doesn’t belong here.

and fuck, does that make him want you more.

you’re laughing, head tilted back just slightly, talking to a couple of your friends who don’t seem nearly as enthralled by you as they should be. you aren’t drinking, he notices. just standing there with some soda in your hand, cheeks flushed but not from alcohol. from joy. genuine, untainted joy.

rafe smirks. this will be easy. the sweet ones always melt in his hands, naive enough to believe whatever story he spins, desperate for that kind of attention from someone like him. he pushes off the counter and makes his way toward you, predatory confidence in every step.

“didn’t peg you as the party type,” he murmurs, sliding in beside you. your head turns, and when those warm, wide eyes meet his, something in his stomach twists.

you smile. actually smile at him. no coyness, no pretense. just a simple, friendly, fucking devastating smile. “yeah, i guess i’m not,” you admit, a little sheepish. “but my friends wanted to come, so here i am.”

rafe arches a brow. “and you’re not drinking?”

you shake your head. “not really my thing.”

his usual lines, the easy teases and flirtations, catch in his throat. there’s nothing to latch onto here, no feigned innocence waiting to be shattered. just…you. real. unaffected. completely unlike anyone else in this house.

“not your thing, huh?” he echoes, tilting his head. “so what is?”

you give a small shrug, your fingers curling around your soda cup, you begin to ramble about random things. “i don’t know. movie nights, bonfires on the beach, making pancakes at midnight just because. you know, wholesome stuff.”

wholesome.

jesus christ.

rafe hasn’t felt this off-kilter in years. he came here tonight looking for a quick fuck, someone to drag upstairs and forget about the next morning. and yet, here he is, utterly hooked on you talking about making pancakes at midnight.

“you’re not from around here, are you?”

you laugh, light and warm. “born and raised.”

“huh.” he studies you, trying to pinpoint exactly what makes you so different. maybe it’s the way you look at him, not like he’s some trophy to be won or some cautionary tale to be avoided, but just…like a person.

he doesn’t know what to do with that.

“so,” he tries again, leaning in slightly. “if you’re not into parties, what’s keeping you here?”

you tilt your head, studying him right back. “good company, i guess.”

rafe isn’t used to being caught off guard. isn’t used to having the script flipped on him like this. but instead of pissing him off, it just makes him more intrigued.

for a split second, he thinks about cutting his losses, about finding someone else who’d be easier, who wouldn’t make his chest feel tight in a way that has nothing to do with lust. but the thought of walking away from you right now?

doesn’t sit right.

“let me drive you home,” the words are out before he even realizes he’s said them.

your brows lift slightly, surprised but not suspicious. “you sure? i wouldn’t want to take you away from the party.”

he smirks. “believe me, sweetheart, nothing here’s worth sticking around for.”

you hesitate for a moment, then nod. “alright. that’d be nice.”

rafe has never been interested in nice before. nice doesn’t get you anywhere. nice is weak. but as you walk beside him out of the house, trusting him in a way he knows he hasn’t earned, he thinks—

maybe nice isn’t so bad.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[deathsmallcaps]

I’m autistic and despite growing up with a Black Stepdad and Black friends, and thinking the Civil Rights movement and the Civil War were cool, and even going to schools with pretty inclusive curriculums, I sometimes repeated mean things I heard (often from my Dad) or did not give thought to how certain lines of questioning/conversation may feel different towards different people. I was, and still occasionally am, racist. Among other things.

(I initially grew up in an almost exclusively Black and white town that was roughly half & half, and later moved to an area that was more half & half Indian and white. I have only ever lived in the east half of the USA)

Sure I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Sure I did believe that everyone should be treated well. Sure I loved the Black people around me. I’ve never said the n-word - I didn’t even know it existed until I read Roots by Alex Haley. But I didn’t consider nuance, I didn’t consider feelings in my thirst for knowledge, and frankly, I have a tendency to be obnoxious. ALL normal things for an autistic person. But ALL things that are quite hurtful. After all, don’t we get hurt when someone stereotypes us?

Looking back, I feel like my Stepdad should have been more active in my social education. He wouldn’t have been educating some random white person who walked up and hurt him, he’d have been teaching his daughter (he’s always treated me how his family treats daughters, for better and for worse).

But my mom, the white woman, stepped up as a good ally. SHE gave me Roots. SHE talked me through dealing with ‘white guilt’ and how that’s nobody’s problem but mine. SHE encouraged me to educate myself, and to consider what I say before I say it. SHE helped me realize my privilege. With help from a psychologist, we both learned how to handle my social issues. And now I’d say I’m a more conscious person. It doesn’t hurt that one of my English classes focused on the Harlem Renaissance and another taught Othello and Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. Since then, I’ve sought out media and information by and about creators of Color and my relationship with my Black family members and friends has definitely improved.

I’m lucky guy. My autism is not the most debilitating in the world, and I do think it gives me valuable insight into said world. Acknowledging it helped me gain insight into how I work.

But I’m still an upper-middle class Anglo-American culturally-Christian white adult whose worst personal interaction with the cops is getting a speeding ticket. The only things I could possibly be oppressed about here is my sex/gender and if someone clocks my neurodivergencies. Maybe my allyship if its a REALLY crazy situation. It’s my responsibility to be aware of my privilege, love my fellow humans, and educate myself on how to respect others. Loving does NOT equal respecting. They’re different things. Just like how your family may genuinely love you but do not respect or understand you.

All those things on the news, about children getting shot because they’re wearing their hoodies up, or having a panic attack, or whatever bullshit excuse a white person with a gun can dream up. Those are extreme and something to be worried about. That kind of behavior should be condemned. But that doesn’t cover every single angle of oppression. And oppression isn’t just perpetuated by the nebulous concept of The System! It’s also perpetuated by Our Common Man. AKA, you and me sometimes.

Sometimes, you’re going to reach out in ways that have worked before and it’s not going to be appropriate. That hurts! But if you do your best to incorporate that info into what you’ve learned, then that’s awesome! I’m proud of you! You’re going to have to keep doing it though!!! And that’s okay!!! That just means you’re getting to live life!!!

Apologize and/or change the subject and educate yourself soon after. Those are some of the best skills you can have. You can’t go back, you can only improve the future.

Another really good bunch is being honest and introspecting on why certain things make you uncomfortable. Once you know, own it and desensitize! Be a good friend!

This is getting very long. If you want some concrete examples,

Some of these things happened because I am autistic. Some may have happened because I was a white kid. But for whatever reason it occurred, as an autistic older teen and now adult, I needed to learn from these experiences so I can help make the future better :). You are capable of learning these things too.

Problem: I once asked a Black friend how it was to be Black. I was trying to educate myself! It wasn’t appropriate though. I kept asking repeatedly, and we were like 13. She was a child and shouldn’t have to have the answer.

Solution: My mom redirected me to Black literature so I could learn from adults willing to talk about it. She didn’t owe me information, nobody does, but especially not kids.

Problem: I was 16 (in 2017). I was talking to a Filipino American* girl who was just coming out of homeschool. I wanted to be nice and relate to her, and I loved Disney. Turns out so did she! I asked if Mulan was her favorite Disney Princess. My thinking was ‘I like Tiana best but I really liked seeing Anna because we have the same hair color -> I know representation is important because (at the very least) it’s nice to see people who look like you being heroes -> Mulan is cool and the Asian princess ™. I was trying to relate and be kind. But that wasn’t appropriate. I made a general assumption, and made her uncomfortable. Mulan was a favorite of hers, it turned out, but that does NOT matter. A person’s relationships with their demographic’s stereotypes are extremely private unless shared. And it’s THEIR right to close it up again.

*despite Filipino and Filipina being gendered, when saying demographic information, such as ‘Filipino American’ about a woman, the trend is towards -o. I couldn’t find a direct answer, but multiple sources said Filipino-American about ladies.

Solution: Remember everyone is an individual and may not want to talk about all aspects of their life. Let them offer information about aspects that you aren’t knowledgeable about, like being of Filipino descent, or being homeschooled, or how it is being a Disney fan of Color. If they bring it up, offer responses like ‘I didn’t know that. Cool!’ Or make encouraging noises like ‘huh!’ Or ‘neat!’ So they know it’s safe to keep talking to you about a subject that is important but sensitive to them. And they might not ever bring these things up! And that’s okay. It’s their business. Retrain your nosiness elsewhere, it’s hard but possible :)

I must reiterate: A person’s relationships with their demographic’s stereotypes are extremely private unless shared - and it’s THEIR right to close the subject. And for the record, just because there is a Southeast Asian Disney Princess now (Raya), it would NOT have been appropriate to ask if her favorite was Raya. That’s still stereotyping, it’s just updated for the 2020s.

Problem: I love name meanings. I couldn’t find my one Indian-American classmate’s name meaning online, so I went up to him and after starting a pointed conversation, I told him my name’s meaning in the hope he’d tell me his. He did, but he was uncomfortable. Because I didn’t really talk to that guy before, and in a roundabout way socially coerced him into giving up information to a relative stranger. Information he probably didn’t care that much about, but it was obvious I only wanted one thing from him. It was rude and showed that I hadn’t really cared about him before I wanted something from him. And people generally don’t like being treated like living wikipedias of their cultures!

Solution: sometimes you’re going to have to accept you aren’t owed information. This also applies to my first example. If you can’t find information online, even if you find the perfect subreddit that welcomes questions like these*, they might not give you an answer. And that’s okay. It might drive you a little mad about missing that bit of information, but it will not end your world. Trust me. I’m putting a lot of personal mess-ups on here, I’m not going to start lying to you now.

*people don’t like being treated like walking Wikipedias for their cultures in general, but sometimes the armor of online anonymity makes people more comfortable sharing. Not always though. Maybe check other questions from other people in that subreddit or tumblr or whatever to find an appropriate format, or get a general sense of what kind of questions are answered happily. You may just have to let it go.

Problem: when I was 17 my mom introduced me to two women, a Black woman and a white woman. She told me offhandedly that one played in an American football adult league for fun. Being a feminist, I was really excited by that, because American football is a very male sport. I didn’t end up talking to either of them about it, but I sure thought a lot about that during that encounter. Afterwards, I said something to my mom that made it clear I thought the Black woman was the football player. She corrected me and said “You thought it was [her] because she’s Black,”. She was correct, I felt terrible for stereoptyping, and I cried (I cry easily). I wanted to go apologize or something. My mom pointed out that the apology would be for me, not for her. Which is an issue (I still struggle with this in many different contexts)

Solution: if you want to apologize, ask yourself ‘Am I doing this because I want the person I hurt to know how apologetic I am? Am I doing this because I want to hear ‘it’s okay’?’. If either of those has a yes as the answer, then reconsider making the apology. If the person really does appreciate apologies, then offer one. But keep it simple. Don’t mention your feelings or why you messed up. That doesn’t matter, and can make them feel guilty for their own valid feelings. And regardless, focus more on not repeating the behavior. That’s the best apology, even if you never see the person you hurt again. You hurt someone, so *I must stress this* it is NOT about you.

Problem: I’m going to college in a very white town (it fits my budget). My first week there, a white friend E was talking about her friend P, who I was to meet later that day. She mentioned they are a minority (E is from that white college town and is still learning too. She’s improved quite a bit. She doesn’t lead with that kind of information anymore) who was also from the area. I was confused. I had pretty much only seen white or white-passing people the last few days. I asked, and she told me they were Indian* and from a local people (among others. Like many Indigenous people, P isn’t from just one Indigenous or only-Indigenous culture). I was shocked. I was under the impression that all the Indigenous people from [college] area were killed or forcibly removed or assimilated.

*P prefers the term Indian when talking about themself or their family, due to their multiculturalism and preference to older terms, but the most polite thing is to refer to an Indigenous person by their People. So if you’re talking about M, your Salish friend, and for some reason his ethnicity comes up, call him Salish - not Indian, not Native American, not Indigenous. Unless he prefers those terms. Though individuals generally prefer the more culture-specific name. If you’re talking about a group of different people or peoples who are original inhabitants of the Americas or Australia or the Pacific Islands (and sometimes Africa), then use Indigenous. That being said, always defer to personal preference.

Solution: I let P bring up info about their peoples when they wanted. I looked up some things later. I also did some research and found that the Indigenous people of my [home] area weren’t all gone either. I had been taught in my state history class who they were exactly, and then they were never never brought up again. Then I learned about things like the Trail of Tears and residential schools, and assumed their culture was effectively dead. I was wrong, thankfully!

Problem: This is not exactly racist but I feel that it’s relevant. I’m talking to this guy right now. A couple weeks ago, we went out and I brought up a question that I thought was pretty normal for dates/conversations where you get to know one another. “What do your parents do?” After all, parents’ occupations affect you! He told me that his mom is working as a fruit seller after being laid off and his dad was laid off (his parents are divorced like mine) and is currently unemployed. FAUX PAS! Yikes. Both of my dads have histories of unemployment (my Dad likes to quit, my Stepdad has gotten laid off multiple times*) but all are employed right now. And I know how awkward (at the very least!) it is to be in that situation, especially money-wise.

Solution: I looked up bad questions to ask on dates later and yup! That was on there. Don’t talk money until you you’re serious. Apparently doing it so early on is a very white/privileged thing. One website I read even said that explicitly.

*Once you get laid off once, you’re often a new hire at a company. And being a new hire, you’re more likely to be laid off, because companies value seniority. Thus, a self-perpetuating situation unfortunately. I wouldn’t be surprised if other factors came into play - reminder: my stepdad is Black, and employers may use that information when choosing which new hire to let go. But we know for sure that seniority is definitely part of the issue.

General Reminder 1: Don’t ask to touch or talk about Black people’s hair. No comments about getting it wet, how it’s different from yours, how working with it must be different, interesting little factoids you may have learned about their hair, weaves, wigs, and so on. If you genuinely have curly hair at 2c-ish or higher (see picture), then it’s a different story. You may have something in common that’s fun to talk about! Comments on how nice it looks are sometimes okay, but consider: are you only saying these complements when it’s straightened or braided? Or only when it’s natural? If you really are only complementing them when it’s on one side of the spectrum, then that’s an issue. Respect Black hair as an art form or even just a part of existence, in its entirety.

Also don’t say it’s kinky or wild hair. Black people can sometimes use those terms for themselves but it isn’t for us. There’s literally a ton of historical laws and economies that have oppressed Black people’s hair and those are some of the things that we should just listen to them about.

This can applied to other cultures’/races’ clearly visible differences from your own features, too.

General reminder 2: look at the kind of things you like to watch, or read, or even react with, like memes. Are they making fun of the minority people in those books? Would that meme be as funny to you if the person in the picture had facial features more like yours? Are the people who look like the person in that meme using that meme? Are People of Color getting to talk and have non-stereotypical storylines in your TV show? Are they even there?

Lastly: You’ve read all this advice from a white person. Go seek out advice, stories and more from other sources!!! It might hurt in the moment but that’s just called growing pains. You will still make mistakes but you have to look to the future! Learning from the sources themselves will be a lot more useful towards creating a pattern of information and behavior your autistic brains can utilize :). Let’s all go be better allies!

The books and authors I mentioned are great places to start and another really good one that I cannot recommend enough is the Levar Burton Reads podcast. But don’t just read fiction. Crack open some history books or podcasts or tv shows. Give yourself some context. Personally I adore Wikipedia when I want to find out more but I don’t have a book. Okay I’ll stop.

idgaf how autistic you are stop being racist😭😭

[nhlclover]

IF THESE WALLS COULD TALK WILL SMITH

pairing: will smith x celebrini!sister!reader

summary: you've been struggling to keep your relationship with will a secret, but when teasing escalates, your secret is unexpectedly exposed.

warnings: brother's best friend trope, mentions of drinking, secret relationship, you and mack are living together instead of him living with the thornton family

wc: 2.49k

notes: when done right, the brother's best friend trope is soooo delicious

As you pull up outside of the Toffoli’s house, the party is already in full swing as the Sharks let loose for the night. You can hear the steady hum of conversation and music flowing out from the open windows.

You’re used to this by now. Living in San Jose for school has meant becoming a regular fixture at these gatherings, thanks to your brother, Macklin. At first, you’d felt like an outsider, just the kid sibling tagging along, even though you’re older than him. But over time, the team had embraced you as one of their own. It’s hard not to get close when they’re constantly around, filling your nights with games or pre-match dinners with the girls.

You step inside, exchanging quick greetings with the players and their significant others. You sidestep through the crowded space, quickly taking in the familiar faces. And then, your eyes find him across the room, as they always do.

He’s standing near the kitchen, beer in hand, laughing at some story Nico is telling him. The dim lighting does nothing to dull the sharp angles of his face, the way his blonde hair curls slightly at the ends, a little dishevelled but in a way that only makes him look better. He’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt, sleeves stretched just enough over his biceps to make your stomach do that stupid little flip it always does when you see him.

God, he looks good. Too good. Unfairly good.

For a second, you forget yourself, caught in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins, how effortlessly he commands the space around him. But then reality snaps back into place, and you remind yourself that you’re not supposed to be looking at him like this. Not here. Not when your brother could walk past at any second.

Your relationship with Will has been a secret — a carefully kept one.

At first, Will was just your brother's teammate — another face in the endless cycle of players who drifted in and out of your life because of Macklin. But unlike the others, he stuck around. He and Mack had clicked instantly when they joined the Sharks, and from that point on, they were practically inseparable. If Macklin wasn’t at the rink, he was with Will. If Will wasn’t at the rink, he was at your and Macklins' place. They trained together, travelled together, and spent their downtime playing video games on your couch like overgrown kids.

And somewhere along the way, between all the nights spent at your apartment, things changed. The connection had been effortless, undeniable.

But it wasn’t supposed to turn into something more.

You hadn’t meant for the late-night conversations to get deeper, hadn’t planned for the stolen glances to linger too long. You definitely hadn’t expected the first time he kissed you, back when it was still something you could chalk up to bad decision-making and too much tequila consumed at a San Jose State frat party. But then it happened again — sober, intentional. And again. Until, eventually, neither of you could deny it anymore.

Now, months later, it’s something real. Something you don’t want to hide, but Will — he’s more cautious. Not because he isn’t sure about you. That much has always been clear. It’s Macklin he worries about.

Mack’s always been protective, always viewed you as his responsibility in a way that, while sweet, could also be incredibly frustrating. On one hand, he’s looking out for you and making sure his older sister is always happy. But he’s your younger brother. Your baby brother. He’s the one you should be worrying about, not the other way around.

And Will? He’s one of his closest friends, someone he trusts implicitly. The idea of telling him — of risking that dynamic — makes Will hesitate.

And so, you’ve kept it quiet.

It’s not always easy. Especially at moments like this, when you’re at the same party, standing in the same room, but you have to pretend you don’t want to be near him. That you don’t want to walk over there and run your fingers through his hair, tug him closer, and press your lips to the spot just below his jaw that always makes him shiver.

Instead, you force yourself to look away, to find a drink, to keep yourself busy. But the weight of his gaze finds you anyway, and when you glance up, Will is already watching.

His expression is unreadable to anyone else, just casual enough to seem normal, but you know better. You see the flicker of longing, the way his fingers tighten ever so slightly around the neck of his beer bottle.

You’re tired of this game — this careful balancing act of stolen glances and unspoken words. It’s not that you want to make some grand announcement, but there’s something about tonight, about the way Will looks at you like he’s barely holding himself back, that makes you want to push him just a little.

You take a sip of your drink, letting your gaze sweep the room before landing back on him. Then, deliberately, you tilt your head and let your eyes drop to his lips before flicking back up to his. It’s subtle — just enough for him to catch it.

Will straightens almost imperceptibly, his fingers flexing around his beer bottle.

You bite back a grin.

You turn on your heel and weave through the party, lingering in conversations just long enough to be seen. You laugh at something one of the girls says, throwing your head back slightly, knowing full well Will is watching.

And when you lean in to talk to Collin — just innocent conversation, nothing more — you don’t miss the way Will shifts where he stands. The way his jaw ticks.

You’re halfway to reaching Cat when Will suddenly steps in front of you.

“Hey,” Will says casually, too casually.

He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your face, the scent of his cologne completely enveloping you. “Hey yourself.”

His eyes flick over your shoulder to Collin, expression neutral but you don’t miss the way his eyes narrow and the way his shoulders stiffen. “Didn’t know you and Ryan were so close,” Will remarks, taking a slow sip of his beer.

“We’re not,” you reply, feigning innocence. “We were just talking.”

Will hums, unconvinced. “Sure.”

You tilt your head, leaning just a fraction closer, just to mess with him. “Why?” you ask, voice low, teasing. “Something wrong?”

He meets your gaze, and for a second, you think he’s going to cave — that he’s going to say screw it and kiss you right here, right now.

But then, instead of giving in, Will’s hand closes firmly around your wrist.

“Come with me,” he mutters under his breath, barely giving you time to react before he’s tugging you through the crowd.

You stumble slightly, caught off guard, but quickly regain your footing as he pulls you down a hallway. The noise from the party dims the farther you go until Will reaches the door to the bathroom and pushes it open, ushering you inside.

Before you can make a smart comment, the door clicks shut behind you, and Will turns to face you, his expression tight, controlled. “Are you having fun?” he asks, voice low, rough.

You blink, caught between amusement and curiosity. “Excuse me?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You know exactly what I mean.”

You cross your arms, tilting your head slightly. “If you’re asking if I’m enjoying the party, then yeah, it’s been great.”

“Cut the crap,” he says, stepping closer. “You’ve been teasing me all night.”

Your brows lift. “Teasing?” You scoff. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Will lets out a short, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Bullshit. The looks, the little smirks, leaning into Collin like that—” He stops himself, exhaling through his nose. “You’re trying to get a rise out of me.”

You shrug, biting back a grin. “I don’t know, Will. Sounds like you’re the one making a big deal out of nothing.”

His eyes darken, stepping closer and forcing your back against the counter. “You think this is funny?” he murmurs, voice dropping.

Your heart stutters, but you keep your expression neutral. “I think you’re overreacting.”

Will shakes his head, exhaling heavily. His hands press into the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “You can’t do that,” he mutters, eyes locked onto yours.

“Do what?” you challenge, tilting your chin up.

He leans in, lips barely an inch from yours, voice barely more than a whisper. “Make me want you when I can’t do anything about it.”

Your breath catches, but before you can say anything, he pulls back slightly, running a hand over his face. “Macklin can’t find out,” he reminds you, and there’s something almost desperate in his tone.

You exhale, shaking your head. “I don’t think he’d mind as much as you think.”

Will lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You’re kidding, right? He’s your little brother. He’s my teammate. He’s protective as hell.”

“I know my own brother, Will,” you counter. “And yeah, he might be a little weird about it at first, but once he sees how much you mean to me — how much we mean to each other — he’d get over it. He’d probably be happy for us.”

Will’s jaw tightens like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. He just stares at you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

You reach up, fingers grazing his forearm. “You’re the only one making this harder than it needs to be.”

He swallows, his hand lifting to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek. It’s so gentle, so at odds with the tension crackling in the air between you. His forehead drops to yours for a beat, and you can feel the unspoken words sitting heavy between you both.

And then, finally, he exhales, shaking his head with a reluctant smirk. “You drive me crazy.”

You grin. “Good.”

And then, before he can say anything else, you close the distance.

The second your lips meet, Will exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. His hands move down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kisses you, slow and deep, like he’s making up for all the times he’s had to hold back.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low groan from his throat. It sends a thrill down your spine, and you press closer, letting yourself get lost in him. The party outside fades away, nothing but muffled voices and music in the background.

It’s just you and Will, finally allowing yourselves this moment.

Will’s lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, Smitty, can you stop macking on my sister? I gotta take a piss.”

Macklin’s voice comes through clear as day, making the both of you freeze.

Will pulls back like he’s been electrocuted, eyes wide in panic. His grip on you loosens instantly, and he looks at you, then the door, like he’s calculating how fast he can escape.

You, on the other hand, are struggling to hold back laughter. Because of course this is how Macklin finds out. Not through some well-planned conversation where you gently break the news, but by catching Will mid-makeout session with his sister in a damn bathroom.

The knocking starts up again, more insistent this time.

“Come on, man,” Macklin groans. “Just open the damn door before I start thinking you two are doing more than just making out.”

Will lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a whimper, running a hand down his face. “I’m actually going to throw up.”

You bite your lip, reaching for the doorknob. “Well, there’s no getting out of this now.”

Will doesn’t move, still staring at the door like it’s a portal to his impending doom. You take pity on him, squeezing his hand quickly before turning the handle. The door swings open, revealing Macklin standing there, arms crossed, expression mostly unimpressed.

“Hey Mack!” you say brightly, like not a single thing is out of the ordinary. Will moves behind you, almost as if he’s using you as a barrier between him and Macklin.

Macklin’s eyes flick between the two of you before he just sighs, shaking his head like he’s already too exhausted to deal with this. “Are you guys done?” he deadpans. “Because, seriously, I really need to piss.”

Will blinks, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to form words but failing spectacularly. You, on the other hand, just fold your arms, tilting your head at your brother.

“That’s all you have to say?” Will blurts out, voice strangled.

“What do you want me to say? You want me to scream at you for making out with my sister? Beat the shit out of you?” Macklin snorts at his own comments. “Come on. I’m not an idiot. I’ve known something was up for a while.”

Will finally finds his voice, clearing his throat. “Wait—what?”

Macklin rolls his eyes, stepping past both of you and toward the toilet. “Dude, you’re not as slick as you think you are. The little looks across the room? The ‘accidental’ hand brushes? I mean seriously it makes me want to puke.”

Will is still standing there like he’s buffering, his brain trying to process this information in real time.

You bite back a laugh. “So, you don’t have a problem with the two of us?”

“I mean… why would I?” Macklin asks. “I know you. I know him. Do I love thinking about one of my best friends making out with my sister? No. But you’re both adults, and Will’s a good guy. As long as you’re happy, I don’t care.”

“I told you he wouldn’t care,” you say, smug.

Will doesn’t even bother responding to your comment, exhaling sharply and dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong — if you mess this up, I’ll have to kick your ass,” Macklin adds.

His gaze sharpens just enough that Will instinctively straightens. “Noted.”

Macklin nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, can you two please get out because I actually have to piss.”

You laugh, grabbing Will’s hand and pulling him out the door before Macklin kicks it shut behind the two of you. Will still looks mildly stunned, but you squeeze his fingers, shooting him a reassuring smile.

You nudge him. “See? Told you. Nothing to worry about.”

Will exhales, looking at you with something between relief and disbelief. “I think I need another beer.”

You grin, lacing your fingers through his. “Come on, then. Let’s go celebrate your survival.”

He lets you pull him back toward the party, still shaking his head, muttering under his breath, “I cannot believe I lost sleep over this.”

[daveth-isnt-dead]

RPF

Summary:

She had sent two hundred pages of unedited erotica directly to her colleague's printer and that isn’t even the worst part. The worst part. Is that she sent two hundred pages of unedited erotica to the very person it was written about. The hot professor in her manuscript, the man who fucks the main character on practically every surface, is Viktor in everything but name. His accent, his hair and eye colour, even the cane. If it was possible to plagiarise a person then she had done just that.

Contains: Third person POV, She/Her Pronouns for reader, Modern AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Professor Kink (kinda, reader isn't a student but viktor is a professor)

Word Count: 11,462

Read on AO3

He can’t know, she reasons, clutching tightly to her binder as she walks down the halls of the university. It’s early evening, so the walk is silent but for the sound of her heels clicking on the tiles. A few students with late classes will still be around, but other than that, the university is dead. She swallows nervously, heart racing in her chest as she rounds the final corner and comes face to face with Viktor’s office door. He asked to review the supply manifest for his class next semester, to review it in person which seemed very strange. The two of them have a largely friendly (albeit professional) relationship and if he just wanted a reason to talk he would have said so, which is what makes this situation so odd. 

“This definitely could have been an email.” She mutters to herself, dithering in front of his door.

There must be a reason, and it can't be the one she is catastrophising about. Because he can’t know. She takes a few quick breaths in through her nose and wipes her sweaty palm on her skirt before reaching out and grabbing the doorknob. She inches the door open, peering around the frame. Viktor is sitting at his desk where she had been expecting him, the setting sun casts an orange light in through an open window and the gentle breeze tangles around the curtains. He’s in the middle of writing something, grading papers, she assumes. One of his hands rests against his head, twirling his hair around his fingers. 

Her heart begins racing again, stomach churning. He can't know, she asserts and gains the confidence to clear her throat. 

Viktor doesn't startle, he takes a second to finish his sentence before slowly inclining his head up in her direction. She half suspects that he knew she was there the whole time. 

“Hi!” She says, a little too perky, “You wanted me?”

A smile crawls across his face, too self-satisfied for her liking, “Yes, I did. Thank you very much for coming.”

She steps into the room proper and holds her binder up with an awkward smile, “I’ve brought the manifest with me if you’d like to take a look?”

“That would be appreciated, yes.” He stands from his desk and she clutches tightly to the binder. He’s wearing a burgundy sweater and the crisp white collar of his shirt is several buttons undone, tie hanging loose. A very appropriate outfit for lecturing, despite the way it makes her eyes dart briefly down to his barely exposed collarbone. Viktor rounds the desk, leaning on his cane before inclining his head towards the door, “Close the door, would you?”

“Yep, no worries!” She replies quickly, gently pushing it shut behind her and trying to ignore the churning anxiety she feels at being alone in a closed room with him. A ridiculous feeling, because they know each other, she would even dare to call him her friend if someone were to ask and finally, because he can’t know. There’s no reason for this to be anything other than a meeting, a work meeting. So she ignores the nervous patter of her heart and steps over to the desk, opening the binder to the relevant page and waiting for Viktor to make his way over to her. 

It might just be her already hair-trigger nerves, but it feels like he stands a lot closer than is required. Her hands grip tight to the edge of the desk when his shoulder bumps against hers and she sucks a deep breath in through her nose. At this rate, he’s going to start wondering why she is behaving so strangely and that would likely be the death of her. She steadies herself, and gestures to the manifest on the desk, “Everything is all as you previously requested, I was worried about having trouble with one of the suppliers, but I managed to make it work, so no biggie there.”

Viktor hums and leans in closer to assess the manifest, running over the well-laid-out (if she may say so herself) spreadsheet with his pointer finger, “This does seem to be more than adequate.” He says evenly, tilting his head to meet her eyes, “And I appreciate your colour-coding.” Her cheeks flush and she feels immediately embarrassed at how flustered a compliment regarding her spreadsheet makes her. She chews on her lower lip a moment and then replies, “Thank you. Um, were there some changes you were looking to make, or am I free to go?” “I would like a moment to review it, if that is alright.” He inclines his head towards the chair usually reserved for guests to the office and says, “Have a seat, if you would like. I don't plan on being long.” “Oh, sure, thanks. I will.” She says quickly, stepping away from him and taking a slightly awkward seat in the chair. She gets that uncomfortable feeling again, that it is strange for him to want extra time to review a manifest that he just called ‘more than adequate’ and that it’s even stranger for her to wait around while he does so. But she is just being paranoid, and there is no reason for her to be, because he can’t-

“How are things at the administration office this time of year?” Viktor asks, still leaning over the desk. 

She braves a look in his direction and then quickly regrets it when she takes stock of how well-fitted his trousers are. She swallows and looks at his bookshelf instead, “Quiet, mostly. I’ve already gotten through most of the admissions work for next semester, so work won’t really pick up again until the new students start arriving after break.” her eyes unwittingly dart back in his direction, he has most of his weight on his right elbow where it rests on the desk and his sweater has rucked up just enough that she can see half an inch of his white shirt where it tucks into his slacks. She looks away again, “How are things for you? Finals just wrapped, didn’t they?”

“Busy, a lot of grading to do, as I’m sure you can imagine.” it sounds like he is smirking when he says, “I haven’t had much of a break since that faculty party last week.”

Her heart kicks into high gear, the faculty party is the last thing she wants to talk about. The real reason that she worries he might know something he shouldn't, that he can't know, is because she said something very stupid at that damn party. Wringing her hands in her lap, she forces herself to give a polite laugh and replies, “I was surprised to see you there, you’re not usually so…sociable.”

Viktor hums quietly, pushing back up off the desk and turning around to face her. Her eyes dart down to his hand on the grip of his cane and then quickly back up to his face. The shift of his eyes is appraising, almost curious and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile when he responds, “That is quite hypocritical of you, as I recall, neither are you.”

She laughs a little, he’s right. She usually tries to avoid faculty parties, they’re loud and full of people she doesn’t know, but she had heard from some of the other professors that Viktor was planning to make an appearance and that swiftly changed her mind, “You’ve got me there.” She replies, standing from her chair and smoothing down her skirt. She swallows, “Well, I hope you’re able to get some rest over the break. You’re um- You’re an incredibly hard worker, you deserve it.”

He shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I do what I can.” and then, more sincerely, “Thank you, though, you are very kind.”

Her toes suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room, “Oh, uh, well, I try to be.” her hands fidget at her sides a moment and then she adds, “If you’re finished reviewing the manifest, I can let you get back to your work for the evening.”

Viktor reaches behind himself, grabs her binder and snaps it shut, then he takes a deliberate step towards her and holds it out. Her hand shakes as she reaches out to grab it, clutching it tightly to her chest. Viktor is standing very close to her, she has to crane her head up to meet his eyes, “Th-Thank you.” she says quickly, already preparing to dash out into the hallway and catch her uneven breath, “Email me if you need anything else, okay?” “Before you go,” Viktor begins and she gets the sudden, disquieting feeling that she’s walked into some sort of trap, “I would be interested in eh picking your brain.” She laughs a little, “There’s not all that much to pick, unfortunately. That’s why some of us are working admin and not lecturing.” she shuffles her feet, aware that she’s laying the self-depreciation on a little too thick, “Sorry, how can I help?”

A slow smile crawls across Viktor’s face and he leans in just a bit closer, “Do you remember last month when I asked for the updated meeting timetable and you so kindly sent a copy directly to my printer?” he asks, voice low and even She has no idea where this is going, but her heart races at his close proximity regardless, “Yes, I do…” “Well…” he begins, voice quiet and even, “About an hour after that, something I had not requested came through on my printer. It was quite an inconvenience, I couldn’t print anything myself until the two hundred or so pages finished coming through.”

Her stomach drops like a rock, her hands grip white knuckle tight to the edges of her binder and her throat goes completely dry. Oh no. Oh nononononono.

“That’s um…That’s very strange…” She replies, trying to keep the nervous laugh building in her throat clamped behind her teeth, “Did something go wrong with your printer, maybe?”

He shakes his head, “No. No, I do not believe so. If anything, I presumed the error may have been on your end.”

The laugh escapes, a nervous little giggle that does her attempt at composure no favours, “My end?”

“Quite. The print order did come from your computer, after all.”

She isn't sure whether it would be a better idea to go sprinting out of the room right now or to try and find something heavy to knock Viktor out with first. He is right, of course. A month ago she did print him a copy of the meeting timetable and then an hour or so after that, she attempted to print the very thing he can’t know about. It comes back in a rush, remembering that when she first hit the print button, nothing happened, her printer didn't wake up. “Oh god…” She mutters, inching the binder up to hide the lower half of her face behind it, “I- I thought my printer wasn’t working, I didn’t realise.” 

She had sent two hundred pages of unedited erotica directly to her colleague's printer and that isn’t even the worst part.

“I have some more supplementary questions if you wouldn't mind,” Viktor says casually, too casually. 

She squeaks out a quiet little, “Okay.” and continues cowering behind her binder, preparing for the moment when he reveals this has all been an elaborate sting operation to get her disciplined by HR or fired. 

“I didn’t realise it was yours at first.” Viktor clarifies, “You use a pseudonym. Truthfully, I assumed that it was a PDF you had downloaded and decided to print for better reading. A wise idea, by the by, much better for your eyes.” He hums quietly to himself and readjusts briefly into a more comfortable stance for his leg, “Incorrectly surmising that it was a piece of already published literature, I presumed there would be no harm in me reading it-” A shocked gasp escapes her at him admitting that he read it. There’s no way out now, she finds herself praying that he lost interest a few pages in and then threw it out and that maybe he only asked her here to complain about the quality of her writing. The corner of Viktor’s mouth curls at her shocked expression, and she quickly darts her eyes away, heaving a shaky breath. 

“As I was saying,” Viktor continues, “I did not realise the work was yours for some time. At least not until I began noticing certain, shall we say, similarities.”

The worst part. Is that she sent two hundred pages of unedited erotica to the very person it was written about. The object of affection in her manuscript, the man who fucks the main character on practically every surface, Professor Novák, is Viktor in everything but name. His accent, his hair and eye colour, even the cane. ‘Similarities’ is putting it lightly, if it was possible to plagiarise a person then she had done just that.

At first, she hadn’t even realised she was doing it, she was just creating her vision of the ideal professor archetype and that just happened to be quite a bit like Viktor. It was harmless, nothing to be even slightly concerned about. Then the more she wrote, the more details she added, the more she rounded him out the more and more his features settled into a shape that looked exactly like Viktor. 

She briefly considers the likelihood of survival if she dives from his third-story window, and then wonders if it might actually make things easier if she dies on impact. As she is mulling this over, Viktor walks back over to his desk and she feels like she can finally breathe, at least until he lowers himself into his seat and pulls a heavy stack of paper out from one of his drawers. She mutters a quiet, “Oh no…” under her breath when she realises that the stack of paper isher manuscript.

“Would you mind telling the class why Professor Novák walks with a cane?” Viktor asks, cocking his head to the side.

The mix of emotions she is filled with hearing that, a combination of arousal at him using his lecturer voice and complete and utter terror at this line of questioning, is discombobulating. She panics, she can feel sweat beading at the nape of her neck and she just manages to stammer out,  “I write for a very specific audience of House MD fans.”

Viktor chuckles, “Not the most defensible argument, but I am willing to accept it.” He hums aloud, “The accent then, explain that.”

“Eastern European is in right now?” She defends weakly.

“No no no. You were hardly casting such a wide net.” Viktor picks the manuscript up in one hand and she realises with horror that he has it annotated. He flips deftly to a page marked with a blue tab, “Here on page seventy-two it’s specifically described as Czech.”

“You…” she collapses backwards into her chair, suddenly feeling like her legs can’t hold her weight any longer, “You read all the way to page seventy-two?”

He chuckles, “Oh, no no. I read the entire thing.”

She grips tightly to her binder, staring at Viktor with wide, blown-out eyes. Her whole body shakes with some horrific amalgamation of both dread and arousal. Clenching her thighs and shifting in her seat, she lets out a weak little breath, “You read it a month ago and you didn’t say anything?” another nervous laugh bubbles up and out of her, “And you acted so normal the whole time, I don’t-”

“I had dismissed it at first” Viktor clarifies, closing the manuscript and crossing his arms on the desk, “After all, what you write in your spare time is none of my business, even if you accidentally send it directly to my printer.” He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning forward just a little, “And then, last week at the faculty party, you said something very intriguing.”

This is the worst possible sequence of events. A scenario devised from her nightmares. She can’t even think of a single word to say, she just stares at him open-mouthed, hands clenched. She remembers exactly what she said that night, so innocuous, so easily defensible if not for the other mountain of evidence he has already provided. A few drinks deep, alcohol buzzing in her veins, she was watching Viktor speak with her chin in her palm, paying little attention to what he was actually saying, swaying side to side and just absorbing the way he gesticulated as he spoke. At some point, he asked her a question that she didn’t even hear and then, likely in jest, he sternly asked if she was paying attention and in her lust-drunk stupor she had replied: Yes, Professor.  

“D-Did I?” she responds, playing dumb even though she knows it won't save her.

“Yes, you did. You called me Professor.” Viktor says slowly, and the way his accent wraps around that word has warmth building in her stomach, “Normally, that sort of thing could be dismissed as a joke, a little eh playful mockery towards a man who’d just used his ‘teacher voice’ at a party, but no. I remember the tone of your voice far too well and there was not an ounce of sarcasm in it. In fact, and this may be presumptive of me, but I do believe you nearly moaned it.” he smiles, and then whispers, “How was I supposed to interpret that? Especially after those two hundred pages of highly descriptive erotica I already read. It is not so much a hypothesis as it is a conclusion. Even the way you greeted me when you entered the room this evening, points towards only one possible outcome.” he says quietly, “You wanted me?” he parrots, sending an ice-cold chill down her spine.

She hadn't even realised she’d said it like that, why had she said it like that?

“You seem to be wondering the same thing as me, hm?” Viktor continues, rising up from his chair and resting his palms flat on the desk, “Why on earth did you decide to word it that way? Unless of course, you wanted me, to want you.”

She did, god she did. For some time she tried to convince herself that what she wrote in her book and her personal feelings were not entangled. Illogically she had spent months on end writing and rewriting scenes of Viktor in every sexual position imaginable and clung to the idea that it was all just for the book, that there wasn’t any sort of emotional reason for her to choose Viktor as her incredibly vivid inspiration. Maybe it was because she hadn’t dated in years and the idea of confronting a real person was terrifying, or because part of her always thought that she was beneath him somehow. 

“Is that how it is, then?” Viktor breathes, grabbing his cane before rounding the desk and stepping towards her, “Do you want me to play the part of your professor, like in that book of yours?”

Her next exhale is shaky and wanton, her thighs press together in a fruitless attempt to calm the ache between them. She suddenly gets the sense that he has no plans of reporting her to HR. Her head tilts backwards to meet his gaze above her and she swallows thickly before whispering, “Would you be,” she cant believe this is happening, “opposed to that?”

“No. Not at all.” Viktor replies, reaching down and running his index finger along the cut of her jaw, a smile tugging at his lips when her breath hitches, “Do you think those fantasies of yours haven’t assimilated into my own? Do not be mistaken, I would not have pored over a novel’s worth of smut had I not found it so prepossessing.”

“Prepossessing?” She repeats timidly.

“Incredibly.” He responds, “You write very vividly.”

She mutters a quiet, “Thank you.” under her breath and musters up enough confidence to say, “That would be because my thoughts are very vivid too.”

He hums and he’s standing close enough that she can hear the sound rumble through his chest, “Are they, now?” He asks, gently grasping her chin in his hand and letting the pad of his thumb brush across her lower lip. She whimpers, inclining her head up towards him, desperate for him to touch her more.

“Allow me to be candid with you, for just a moment.” Viktor says, hand sliding away from her skin as he stands upright and takes a step backwards to lean against his desk, cane tucked into the crook of his elbow, “I do not usually do this. Intimacy between coworkers can be eh complicated-”

“W-We’re not technically coworkers.” She says quickly, “Different departments!”

Viktor chuckles, “There is no need to try and convince me, if that is what you are doing.” He looks her up and down, slowly, “I am already quite certain of what exactly I’d like from this encounter. I would just like to be sure that we are both on the same page, as it were. So, to be clear, if you change your mind at any time, you are free to leave and we maintain our professional relationship, no harm done.” He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and her eyes dart down to his bare forearms, “Do you understand?”

She nods, staring abashedly at his hands.

“Words, please.”

“Oh, sorry!” She exclaims, “Yes, I do, I’m good, I don’t uh-” she swallows, “I don’t want to leave.”

That smirk comes back and she feels it all the way down to her toes, “Good girl.”

Her breath catches in the back of her throat and her heart thumps hard and fast. She can feel herself growing wet already, the heat at the apex of her thighs is becoming unbearable and her professional work outfit feels tight and restrictive. Viktor notices, she sees his eyes dart down to her tightly pressed-together knees, to the way her chest swells with her heavy breath. She realises quickly that she likes being embarrassed like this and that her long drawn-out humiliation was practically foreplay. Then it hits her that Viktor already knew that, of course, he already knew that, he read two hundred pages littered with her own wants and desires, both subconscious and conscious. A little whine escapes her lips as she realises that he entered this encounter with ample ammunition and surely intends to make the most of it.

“Stand up for me,” Viktor says quickly and she practically leaps up out of the seat. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and then he adds, “Binder on the floor, please.”

She bends down just enough to drop it down onto the carpet, suddenly missing having an object to hold onto, realising she has no idea what to do with her shaky hands. Lacking something else to grab, she clutches to the fabric of her pencil skirt, bunching it up on either side of her thighs. She inhales sharply through her nose when Viktor takes a few slow steps towards her, stopping less than an arm's length away. At first, she tries to meet his gaze but quickly finds it too intimidating, too observant. So her eyes quickly dart back down to her toes, trying to find some way to slow her rapid breathing. 

Then she feels something under her chin, slowly inclining her head back to meet his eyes again. It’s the handle of his cane. She lets out a whimpering little sound at that knowledge, thighs clenching and hands gripping tighter to the fabric of her skirt. She remembers this. Chapter Seven, page twelve. Viktor must see the gears turning in her brain, because a satisfied smile crosses his face, “Eyes on me, please.” He says quietly, slowly returning his cane to its place at his side. 

“You paid attention,” she says in near disbelief, “To the book, I mean.”

He chuckles and she finds that she loves the sound of it, loves the easy, half-lidded set of his eyes and the almost boyish way his hair curls over his ears. Viktor takes another step forward and she has to tilt her head back even further to maintain their eye contact, “I did.” he replies easily, “I wanted to do this correctly and a little thorough research goes a long way, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” she answers, breathless and wanting. He must see it in her eyes, because his head tilts slightly and his free hand reaches out, sliding his fingers through the hair at her temple and then pressing tightly against the side of her head. 

He slowly leans over her, close enough that she can feel his breath on her face. Her eyes dart from his own, down to his lips and then quickly between both of his moles. His head inclines downward enough that their noses are almost touching and she can feel her heart pounding through her entire body, her knees grow weak and her palms sweat. Viktor’s thumb slowly rubs a comforting circle over her temple and he whispers, “May I?”

It’s embarrassing how quick the rush of, “God yes, please Viktor, please.” comes bursting forth from her mouth, but luckily the senseless ramble is quickly cut off by his lips pressing against her own, slow but hungry. She melts into him, restless hands gripping tightly to his shoulders, mewling at the sensation of his hand in her hair and the addictive softness of his lips. The kiss is languid, slow and wet. There is little urgency to it, even though his hand slides around to the back of her head and holds her firmly in place, any desperation on Viktor’s part is exhibited in his thorough exploration of her mouth, more so than in his vigour.

His kisses are explorative, testing a bite to her lower lip, testing how she might react to him sucking on it instead. She practically hangs off him, gasping out little moans in between each re-connection of their lips. Viktor lets out a pleased little hum when her mouth opens beneath his and her nails dig tight into the fabric of his sweater when their tongues meet in a brief, tentative flick. She allows one of her hands to slide up from his shoulder and into his hair, it’s soft and she is very pleased to find he makes a very pretty sound when she tugs on it. 

When he pulls back, Viktor is a vision with kiss swollen lips and wide eyes engulfed by the black of his pupil. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth and she watches enraptured at the bob of his throat when he swallows. 

“Forgive me for the interruption.” He breathes, “But I believe now would be a prudent time for me to lock the door, yes?”

She nods loosely, unsure she can even manage words at this point and when Viktor turns to move over to the door, she spins around so she can continue watching him, bringing two disbelieving fingers up to her lips to convince herself that what happened had really just happened. The click of the lock sends an entirely new shiver down her spine and Viktor must see it on her face when he turns around because he looks incredibly self-satisfied. Her heart begins to race as he makes his way back over to her, desperate to be touched again, only for her to blink down at him dumbly when he walks past her and takes a seat in the abandoned chair in the middle of the room. 

He tuts at her, leaning forward and resting an elbow on his knee, “There is no need to look so disappointed.” He says slowly, “I have many plans for you.”

She lets out a shaky breath and stammers out, “S-Such as?”

Viktor reclines back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, “I’d like to watch you touch yourself.”

Her breath hitches. Chapter Nine. Page Three. Her heart beats wildly in her chest, she feels lightheaded and cloudy. She swallows thickly and responds, “You…You would?”

“Yes.” Viktor confirms, hands lifting to loosen his tie some more, undoing enough buttons that she has a full view of his prominent collarbone, “If you would be willing to do that for me.”

“I would,” she replies after some time, willing, but timid and then because she has already gone this far, she adds a cautious little, “Professor”

Viktor moans at that, and the resulting zip up her spine at having said the right thing is addictive. His slouched posture in the chair makes her eyes widen, one of his arms flung over the side of the chair, the other gripping tightly to his thigh. She wants nothing more than to climb him, ride him, but she is aware there is a part she is playing and admittedly, the role had very much been written with her in mind. So she sucks in a nervous breath and averts her eyes to his bookcase as she begins unbuttoning her shirt. It’s difficult, her fingers shake on the buttons, but the way Viktor’s breath catches when the garment falls open and catches on her elbows has her desperate to continue. She is aware that her underwear is nothing to write home about, she had been anticipatinga slow, boring day at work, after all. Her bra is at least lacy even though it’s otherwise plain white (anything else would be visible through her shirt) and she almost wants to apologise for not offering a better show, but when her eyes cautiously dart back to Viktor she finds him watching with such rapt attention that she suddenly feels less inadequate. 

His eyes are blown wide, his cheeks dusted with pink and she can see the way his chest shifts with his heavy breath. It’s enough that she manages to feel a little confident, even. Deciding not to divert her eyes back to the bookcase and to peer shyly in his direction instead. The bob of his throat is what catches her eyes at first, keeping her attention as she finishes the buttons on her shirt and allows it to fall to the floor. Then the tight dig of his blunt fingernails into the fabric of his slacks, that keeps her occupied through the process of unzipping her skirt and letting it join her shirt with a quiet rustle. It’s the vision of Viktor’s teeth biting down on his lower lip that gives her the confidence to reach around and unclasp her bra, and then the sound of her name leaving his mouth in a teetering whine that allows her to drop it entirely. 

Viktor hums approvingly at the sight of her in nothing more than her underwear and sheer black stockings, “You are a vision.” He croons, eyes half-lidded and intense, “But I do believe I asked to watch you touch.”

She closes her eyes, nerves returning in a rush, but not strong enough to fight back the coiling heat of arousal, “Yes, Professor.” 

At first, she is too self-conscious to even open her eyes, chewing on her lower lip as one of her hands slides up from her hip and over the soft weight of her breast. Viktor makes a sound, something between a gasp and a moan, she takes that to mean she is doing well and so gently squeezes her breast in her palm. When she finds the confidence to circle her thumb over her nipple, she releases a keening moan that she quickly tries to silence with her other palm. She is already so unbelievably, shamefully sensitive, that even that one tentative touch of her own hand has her legs shaking beneath her. 

“Eyes on me, please.” Viktor says again and she grits out a whimper from between her teeth before doing as asked. 

The sight of him, has her moaning again. One of his hands is now tightly pressed to his chin, his teeth chewing on one of his prominent knuckles. His other hand remains on his thigh, gripping somehow even more tightly than before. Most significantly, he’s uncrossed his legs, thighs hanging wide open and making the strain of his slacks blatantly obvious between them. Her head lolls to the side and her next moan is more wanton, liberating. She pinches her nipple between finger and thumb, rolling it between them and lets her other hand fall from her mouth and rest instead at the waistband of her stockings. 

Viktor lets out a slow breath as her fingertips slowly edge down into her stockings and then further down into her conservative underwear. Black, not white. Maybe she would have put some effort into locating a matching set, if she had any inclination of this happening, though Viktor doesn't seem at all bothered by her mismatched undergarments. He hums, chewing on his knuckle some more as his eyes dart down to the shift of her hand inside her underwear and when she finally dares to run a finger up the length of her sex, her resounding whine has him biting down hard enough that she is sure it will leave a mark.

“Are you wet?” He asks, gaze shifting back up to her face.

She scrunches her eyes shut, embarrassed at the more than obvious answer to that question, “Uh, I-I” Her finger bumps against her clit and she loses her train of thought.

Viktor chuckles, “A more coherent response, please. If you can manage it.”

“I-I am.” she gulps a breath, feeling just how easily her finger slides between her folds, “very.”

It's hard for her to stay upright, every feather-light touch of a single finger has her suffering a full body shake. She's so wet that she can feel the gusset of both her underwear and stockings have been soaked through, clinging wetly to the back of her hand as she continues her tentative ministrations. She very nearly sobs when she adds a second finger and rubs a slow circle around her swollen clit, her legs quivering under her weight and hips stuttering out towards her hand.

"Look at you…" Viktor says breathlessly, hooded eyes darting between her hand between her thighs and the pinched expression on her face, "You're barely able to stand, aren't you?"

Her head lolls forward into a boneless nod, biting down on her lower lip as she slides her fingers backward to tease at her entrance, her insides fluttering at even the promise of penetration, "I'm sorry, I-"

"No no, do not apologise." Viktor insists, his voice thick and addictive, "It has been quite, hm, stimulating, observing the way your legs shake, but, I may have a suggestion to make this a little easier for you." He shoots her a smirk and pats his left thigh, “Take a seat.”

Chapter Five. Page Eleven. She gulps a breath, sliding her fingers out from beneath her stockings, shivering as they brush past her clit on the way up. Viktor regards her intently as she takes several shaky steps towards him, reclining further backward against his chair when she positions herself with his leg between her own, still a few inches away from contact. Then, without warning, Viktor takes her hand (the one that had just been down her stockings) and brings it to his mouth, opening his lips and taking her two slick-covered fingers inside. Chapter Seven. Page Fifteen. She moans at the warm wetness that is the inside of his mouth, whimpering at the feeling of his tongue sliding between both of her fingers, his head bobbing forward and then back just a little, encouraging her to fuck his mouth properly.

"F-Fuck…" She stammers, hips quivering, desperate for any sort of friction as she begins to slowly thrust her fingers in and out of Viktor's open mouth. He peers up at her, eyes hooded and releasing a moan that she can feel around her digits. She quickly grows more generous with her fingers, sliding them back out until barely her fingertips remain between his lips and then languidly pushing back in until they are hilted all the way to the final knuckle, deep enough that she can feel them at the back of his throat. Viktor moans again, and she curses under her breath at the sight of his red cheeks and the saliva accumulating at the corners of his mouth.

One of his hands slides up the side of her torso, coming to rest on her shoulder where it then presses down firm. Encouraging her to do as he asked earlier and take a seat. Her knees shake as she slowly lowers herself down, a gasp catching in the back of her throat the moment her aching clit presses down on his thigh, even through three layers of cloth. Viktor lets out a pleased sound around the intrusion of her fingers, lifting his leg just a little and grinding it up against her. She stutters out a moan, writhing impatiently on his thigh, so wanting that she spares only a brief thought for how her wetness must be ruining his slacks.

Viktor pulls back far enough that her fingers slip from his mouth with a perverse wet sound, he takes a few seconds to inhale some heavy, rasping breaths before grunting out the words, "That's it, good girl." and occupying himself with the side of her throat instead. She chokes on a whimper, grinding her hips desperately against his thigh, eyes nearly rolling back in her head with the white hot pleasure that lances through her. Her hands jump up to grip his shoulders, desperate for purchase as her legs shake under the relentless, rhythmless speed of her hips. All the while, Viktor is leaving wet and messy kisses the whole way down the length of her throat, sucking lavishly against the pulse point under her jaw before moving down to her shoulder where he bites. Her hips stutter at the feeling of his teeth, and then again at the soothing lathe of his tongue a moment after.

"God, Viktor!" She grits out from between her teeth when he sucks a purple mark on her collarbone and then his mouth moves down to capture one of her nipples between his lips and that makes her go nearly boneless against him. Her hips grind and rut and fuck almost without her permission and her head falls slack against his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his sweater as she feels her stomach coiling with an unbearable arousal. Having her head buried in his shoulder makes her take notice of just how good he smells and the endless grind of her clit against him is making her lose herself, unable to even think about being embarrassed anymore. Viktor nips at her breast and she mewls in response, moving faster, faster, her breath coming heavy, mind completely lost to the pleasure. The sounds escaping her mouth are unfettered and increasing with pitch and fervour with every passing second. Her pleasure is so intense that it nearly aches, she is so close but still so far and a grunt of frustration escapes her that she tries to hide by biting down on Viktor's sweater.

Then, his hands clamp down on her hips, tight enough to impede her writhing. She whimpers, lifting her head up from his shoulder and one of his hands instead moves to cup her cheek while the other works hard to keep her locked in place. Viktor tilts his head to the side and brushes his thumb across her cheekbone, "I apologise," He coos, kissing lightly against her collarbone, "but this is not how I wanted you to finish."

She whines, grinding against him as much as she can, which is no longer very much, "H-How, then?" she manages to force out between her rapid breaths.

"Do you recall the events of chapter six?” Viktor asks against the side of her throat, “I found them to be particularly enthralling.”

"God yes, so did I," She responds breathlessly.

He chuckles, pressing his lips to her jugular, “Would you like to get on the desk for me, then?”

"Yes"

Viktor leans back, tilting her chin to meet his eyes, "Yes, what?" He asks, a playful mirth shining in his eyes.

Her heart races behind her ribs and she forces herself to swallow before whispering, "yes, Professor."

Viktor sighs pleasantly, thumb tracing her well bitten lower lip, "Such a good girl." He breathes, pressing a quick kiss under her jaw and giving the side of her thigh a quick tap, "Up, please."

She does as asked, rising on her shaky legs and giggling shyly when she needs to rest a hand on his shoulder for balance. Once she is steady, Viktor takes that hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of her knuckles.

"Stockings off, if you would be so kind.” he whispers against her skin.

"Oh! Yes, of course, sorry!" She kicks off her shoes and scrambles to roll the offending pantyhose down her legs without tearing a hole in them, struggling a little when they get down to her ankles and she has to stand on one foot to yank each side off, “Sorry.” she mumbles, shaking the last bit of the offending garment off her toes, “That part is always much sexier in writing.”

Viktor laughs warmly, “Do not worry. I appreciate the touch of realism.” he inclines his head towards the desk, “Up you go.”

She feels her cheeks flushing but does as asked, taking a few steps backwards and hoisting herself upwards so her legs are dangling off the desk. Viktor smiles and then slowly stands so that he can push his chair forward until it is right between her thighs. He rounds the chair and leans his cane up against the desk just beside her leg and then returns to his seat.

The anxiety comes back in a sudden rush at the sight of him settled in between the open invitation of her thighs, her breath races away from her and she struggles to catch it. Viktor's expression shifts, eyebrows pulling together in a concerned furrow.

"Are you alright?" He asks, rubbing a comforting hand on her knee that feels far more platonic than anything else has this evening.

She nods loosely, "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just uh…overwhelmed?"

"Would you like to stop?"

"No!" She replies a bit too quickly and then let's out a nervous laugh before correcting, "I mean- No, I wouldn't. Thank you for asking, though."

He hums under his breath, "If you ever do need to stop or take a break, just let me know, alright?"

"I will, promise" She responds, managing what she hopes is a coy smile before adding, "So don't worry about me, do whatever you want to."

"Oh?" Viktor answers playfully, smirking up at her from between her legs, "I suppose I should pick up where I left off then, shouldn't I?" He inches in a little closer and she squeaks at the feeling of his lips pressing against the side of her knee and one of his hands sliding up and under, holding her leg slightly aloft. He hums against her skin, placing another kiss further up on her inner thigh and she grips tightly to the edge of the desk to ground herself somehow. A shocked little whine escapes her mouth when he nips gently at her thigh, and then a whimper follows as the feeling of his tongue lapping over the bite.

In between kisses, Viktor mumbles, “If would indulge me, I have some questions to ask.” against her skin.

“O-Okay.” She replies, a little too shocked at their positioning to really understand what is being asked of her. 

He makes a pleased sort of sound, his next kiss so far up her thigh that she can feel his warm breath through her underwear, “When you were writing this scene, the one in chapter six.” another kiss, on the opposite leg, “Did you have to take breaks?”

Her mind is so addled at the feeling of his mouth so close to her sex that she doesn't even manage to catch his implication,“W-What like to eat? I try to, but sometimes I get distracted and forget.”

Viktor chuckles into her thigh, “No.” he begins, sucking gently on the skin there before continuing, “Did the process of writing that scene, of committing it to paper, ever fluster you so much that you had to leave your desk to relieve yourself?”

Another swirling of aroused humiliation begins in the pit of her stomach, her thighs quivering on either side of Viktor's shoulders as she tries to maintain composure, “Yes.” She admits, voice shaking, “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes or often?” Viktor insists, the hand under her leg sliding upward and toying with the leg of her underwear.

She curses under her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, “Often.” She corrects.

"Good." He responds, his delicate finger running up and along the lacy hemline, gentle enough that she can just barely feel it, "Though I would prefer that I do not need to request clarification again." he bites at her innermost thigh, right at the join to her pelvis, "So please do try and be honest with your responses, yes?"

She nods loosely, still too overwhelmed to open her eyes, "O-Okay, I will, I promise."

"Good." Viktor answers, his voice low and utterly addictive, "Then allow me to ask my next question." He whispers and she feels his breath right at the apex of her thighs, "When you did this, when you took the time to…recuperate before returning to your writing. Was it him, Professor Novák,you were thinking about?”

Her hips stutter upward just a little and she bites down on her lower lip to silence a moan, “No.” She says unevenly.

“Who then?” He asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer.

“V-Viktor you’re embarrassing me.” She stammers, her heart climbing its way up her throat, her sex growing shamefully wet with each of his meticulous, prodding insinuations.

He laughs fondly, palm rubbing a warm circle on her inner thigh, “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I just want to hear you say it, that's all.”

"You." She whispers.

Something a little bit like a whine escapes Viktor's mouth and his hands move to either side of her underwear, "Open your eyes for me." He breathes and then adds, "Please."

She does, slowly and nervously, still chewing away on her lower lip. Viktor peers up at her with something almost like reverence, his summer-gold eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. His throat bobs and he slowly starts tugging her underwear down over her hips, she lifts herself up for him as they slide down her thighs, her knees, her calves and then catch on her left ankle where Viktor seems content to leave them.

He leans forward, close enough that she can feel his hot breath directly on her wetness. She twitches and Viktor lets out a soft groan, peering up at her from beneath his eyelashes, "Tell me again." He croons, lifting one of her legs up over his shoulder, "Tell me who you were thinking about."

She releases a shaky breath, unable to pull her eyes from his despite her nerves begging her to, “You, always you. Every single time.”

"Fuck, zlato" Viktor hisses out between his teeth, sucking a mark on the inside of her thigh as his free hand inches up the other leg, gripping to the uppermost part of her thigh, his thumb inching so close to where she really wants it, "Such a good girl." He drawls, the words rolling around delectably on his tongue, "So good for me."

She shifts her arms, hands flat on the desk behind her, head lolling backward at the duel sensations of his mouth on her thigh and his thumb lingering so close to her sex. When she suddenly feels the warmth of his breath brush her wetness again she mumbles a sudden, "Please." and rolls her hips up towards him.

"Please, what?" He asks, still fully committed to his role even as she hears his voice losing it's even tone.

An utterly pathetic whine escapes her and her hips roll again, "Please, Viktor. Your mouth, please, I-" his hand slides up the join between her thigh and pelvis and she whimpers, "I've been good, please!"

Viktor's next moan is low and deep, all the way in the back of his throat and her head shoots up at the sudden eruptive pleasure of his tongue against her swollen clit, gasping at the sight of his head buried between her thighs. She curses under her breath as he draws slow circles around her clit, his tongue is so wet and warm and the uncombed tips of his hair tickle her inner thighs. Her arms shake beneath her and it takes every ounce of energy to not collapse backwards onto the desk, but she doesn't, she refuses to, because it's Viktor between her legs and she can't bear to stop looking at him.

Then, his second hand joins his mouth between her legs, one of those devious fingers teasing at her entrance and she feels her insides clench involuntarily in anticipation. Viktor grunts against her, sucking on her clit as his finger slides all the way inside in one fluid motion. Her eyes nearly roll back in her head, her hips cant up to meet his ministrations, the whole room filled with the slick sounds of his fingers and mouth, she knew she was wet, but god she is wet. She's lets out a rasping gasp when a second finger joins the first, the both of them curling up in just the right spot to have her seeing stars and then Viktor has the gall to look at her, his eyes blown wide, peering up at her over the curve of her belly. A third finger, then, as his eyes are still locked with hers. The stretch is addictive, she can feel tears beading in the corners of her eyes and her teeth are grit, breath huffing desperately in and out through her nose. Viktor moans against her and the vibrations of that have her quivering, the effort of holding herself up is starting to take toll, she can feel her stomach muscles burning with the strain, but she can't stop looking at him.

She yelps at the feeling of another finger sliding inside of her, the protrusion obvious but still so easy and not at all painful. Viktor pulls his mouth from her for just a moment, just long enough for him to praise, "That's four fingers, zlato." he pumps them in and out of her, slowly enough that she feels the gravity of it, "And I barely even had to work for it."

She's close now, fuck she's so close. Her arms finally give way behind her and she manages to catch herself before she hits the desk, shakily lowering herself down onto the wood. With her hands free, the both of them quickly jump up to grab at Viktor's hair, tangling in it, holding him firmly against her as she grinds her hips into his face, her mind utterly lost, the very concept of shame vanishing as all four of his fingers fuck her and his tongue works its magic on her over sensitive clit. He grunts when both her legs hook up behind him, her feet locking behind his head, "Fuck fuck, please, m'close, so close, fuck please." she pleads, her moans beginning to sound like desperate sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks with exertion.

Viktor takes the hint, fingers moving faster, lips locking around her clit and suckling ravenously as she shakes and grinds above him. His fingers crook up just the way she needs them to and her back arches up off the desk as the pleasure coiling in the belly snaps and shoots from her centre all the way out to her fingers, leaving her quivering and wrecked. Viktor slows, carefully removing his fingers and gently lapping at her with the flat of his tongue, at first even that feels like too much, her hips twitching with every swipe of his tongue, but after a little bit the feeling starts settling warm in her stomach and she regains the energy to unhook her feet and sit back up.

Viktor lifts his head up, resting it on her thigh and giving her an utterly salacious smile. His fingers take the place of his tongue, not touching her clit directly, but slowly sliding up and down the full length of her sex, "Do you think you have another in you?" He asks.

She assesses for a moment, considering how the fingers between her thighs feel. Good, she surmises, "Yes. I think so." and then, a little boldly, "Chapter nine, then? Since I'm already on the desk."

Viktor practically purrs, nipping gently at her thigh before rising from the chair, "Ah, like you read my mind." he says, smirking and wiping the bottom of his face with the back of his free hand. His fingers continue their slow movements against her sex and she slides her hand up the side of his neck around to the back of his head.

She tastes little more than herself when their lips meet, but Viktor hums a moan into her mouth that tastes far sweeter. Her tongue runs behind his upper row of teeth and then she sucks gently on the tip of his tongue when it ventures into her mouth in return, he grunts in response adjusting his weight to rest further forward on the desk all while his fingers continue stroking up and down the length of her. She bites a moan, pulling back from him and drowning in his lax, lust drunk expression for just a moment before jumping her hands down to the hem of his sweater and yanking it up as best she can.

"A little help?" She says, struggling to get it past his arms.

Viktor laughs good naturally, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before leaning backward and pulling the sweater up over his head on one swift motion. She reaches up and quickly undoes a few more buttons on his shirt, enough that she can see down to his sternum and becomes suddenly distracted by the expanse of skin that she pauses in her effort of undoing the rest, instead latching her lips to his exposed collarbone, sucking and kissing the length of it. Her lips travel upward, licking at the side of his throat when her hands return to their task, undoing the rest of his buttons and then shoving the shirt down off his shoulders. Viktor quickly yanks his tie up over his head and she shuffles forward just a little on the desk, wrapping her arms around his middle and tugging him up against her, relishing in the feeling of her breasts pressing against his bare skin, leaving a trail of hot kisses from the protrusion of his shoulder all the way up to his jaw. Viktor releases a shaky sigh, two of his fingers between her legs tentatively dipping into her, just to the first knuckle to test her sensitivity. When she doesn't immediately recoil he inches them in a little further, all the way, at the sound of her breathless moan.

"It seems as if you are ready for me, don't you think?" He says against the side of her throat, sucking a mark beneath her jaw.

She moans a little at even the thought of it, "Yes, please, I want you so badly."

Viktor coos at her, the hand between her legs moving instead to his belt, quickly working to undo it as his other hand cups her cheek, "Oh, I know you do, zlato. I read all about it."

She laughs despite herself, the sound is easy and bubbles right up and out of her. She covers his hand on her cheek with her own, leaning into the warmth of his palm, "Viktor?" she asks cheekily, "When you were reading my manuscript," she cocks her head to the side, "did you ever have to take breaks?"

His responding laugh is warm and not at all embarrassed, instead he raises their interlinked hands to his lips and places a kiss on the back of her knuckles, "Not during the first perusal." he replies evenly, "I did not quite realise the gravity of what I was reading at that point." he releases her hand, needing two to undo his trousers and inch them just far enough down his thighs, "Ah, the second time however, that is a different matter entirely."

She can't resist quickly darting her eyes downward, hissing a breath through her teeth at the sight of his hand wrapping loosely around the base of his cock. It looks almost painfully hard, flushed red and dripping. Her breath hitches when he nudges against her, just barely, a minuscule pressure against her sensitive clit that sends a quiver through her legs. Viktor hums, watching her intently as he moves his right hand to balance his weight on the desk, compensating for his right leg, she assumes. His left hand remains somewhere between their legs, but he's now leaning in so close that it's difficult for her to see what is happening down there anymore.

"Would you like to hear some more about my second reading?" He asks smoothly, slowly running his tip up and down her slit, lathering it in the accumulation of wetness between her thighs.

She whimpers, nodding her head, "Please."

He sighs, a wide and loose smile playing around his lips, "My second reading, was a great deal more eventful, because by then I had more than a suspicion of just who you were writing about." the head of his cock stills at her entrance, the heat of him, the promise of penetration has her biting down on her lower lip. Viktor's eyes are wide and dark, he leans down to nip at her throat and continues, "It became increasingly difficult to maintain focus, as you might imagine, when I realised that I was reading about you, on your knees, sucking my cock." he grunts, his cool demeanour betrayed for just a moment as his hips stutter forward.

She wriggles her hips, a breathless sigh escaping her throat, "Chapter four?"

"Yes." He responds lowly, hand on the desk gripping tight as he inches himself inside her, connecting his lips to hers so he can swallow the sound of her resounding moan before pulling back with a heavy breath, "I did not survive chapter four, at least, not at first."

She curses under her breath as he continues pushing in, a few more inches, but she is already so sensitive from her last orgasm that even that has her desperately panting, grasping wildly at his hair, his shoulders.

Viktor still mostly maintains his composure, despite the fucked out mess of his hair and the way it clings to his sweaty brow, "Chapter four would not be the last time that I put your writing aside and-" he slides in the rest of the way, a grunt escaping his teeth when his hips slot against her, "-fucked my hand to the mere thought of what you had written." He leans in, his golden eyes broiling, so close that their noses touch and their breaths intermingle, "You, zlato. Are an outstanding writer."

She moans into his mouth when his lips collide with hers, looping both of her arms around his shoulders and tugging him closer to her. Viktor's left hand grabs tightly to her hip, his tongue meeting hers in an utterly filthy writhe and his hips finally start to move. Despite the intensity of his tongue in her mouth, the pump of his hips still remains slow and methodical, a gasp escaping her lungs each time he sheathes himself back inside, his tip grinding against that perfect spot inside of her. The feeling of his bare shoulders beneath her grasping hands, and the hitches in his breath with each thrust keep her grounded, solidifying that it really is Viktor inside of her. She pulls her mouth from his, admiring the focus in his eyes, the intense furrow of his brow, his kiss bruised lips. The sun in the window behind her has well begun to set, painting him in shades of pink and orange, catching in his tangled hair and the beads of sweat on his forehead. He is unfairly beautiful. So she fully wraps herself around him, clinging tightly to his shoulders and encircling his waist with her shaky legs, encouraging him to move faster with a nudge of her heels.

"Ha, impatient?" Viktor manages to say in between panting breaths, his voice is raspy and deep, accent curling delicately around the word.

She whimpers, burying her head in his shoulder, licking at the skin there, "Want you to finish, need you to."

Viktor let's out a shaky sigh, and his hand slides from her hip to down between her legs, rubbing a quick circle around her swollen clit, "Not without you."

Even that slight touch has her gritting her teeth, breathing in hard through her nose, hips twitching. It's so much, it's too much, but somehow it isn't nearly enough, "I-I don't know if I-"

"You can. You will." He responds, his thrusts growing faster, his fingers on her clit applying just the right amount of pressure to have her hissing and gasping into his shoulder.

"F-Fuck!" She exclaims, the heat is nearly unbearable, her legs shake with each circle of his fingers and it's like all of her joints have locked around him, she couldn't be pried from him if he tried. His next thrust has her nearly sobbing, gasping aloud at the feeling of herself clenching down on him and the again at the moan he releases at the sensation.

Viktor bites a curse in Czech, all sharp consonants, the pump of his cock increasing in speed, gradually losing rhythm, "That's it." He grunts, "Such a good girl, zlato. You can do it, I know you can."

She feels his praise deep inside her, it makes her walls flutter, her legs tighten around him. She releases an aching moan against the side of his throat, kissing, biting and tonguing at his skin in equal measure. Barely coherent, she just needs her mouth on him, any way possible, "I-I'm close." she nearly sobs, burying her head in his shoulder.

"Look at me." He grunts, and then again, softer, "Please, look at me."

Her head feels heavy and her lower lashes are wet with tears of exertion, but she manages to loll her head back upward, biting back a whine at the luxurious way Viktor's golden eyes dart around her face. She rests a hand on the desk for balance, inhaling a shaky breath as she lifts her other hand to his cheek. He huffs a breath through his nose and leans into her palm, eyes fluttering closed and then reopening with a pointed intensity that she could drown in.

She feels his fingers slip down to her entrance, sliding quickly inside and then back out in the gap between his thrusts, before gliding back up to her clit, newly wet with her arousal and circling faster and faster. Her teeth grit, her jaw so tight that she can feel it in the base of her skull. She struggles to keep her eyes open, barely able to gulp down enough air to keep her brain functioning as her hips twitch and stutter with each touch of his fingers, the knot in her stomach growing tighter and tighter with each of his thrusts.

A rising crescendo of moans starts forcing it's way out from behind her teeth and she sees Viktor's eyes blow even wider, his own breath going uneven, "Are you going to come for me?" he rasps

She barely manages a nod, whimpering as she teeters on the edge of her orgasm, hand on his cheek moving down to grip tightly at his shoulder for purchase, grinding her hips upward to meet his on each thrust, "F-Fuck, Viktor I-" she's cut off by a moan, struggling her way through a near incomprehensible sentence consisting nothing but curses and pleas of his name. It feels so good that it nearly hurts and with a few more desperate panting breaths and utterly wild writhes of her hips, she feels her climax taking over her body. She shakes, she quivers, her legs lock around him impossibly tight and somewhere amongst that she feels Viktor follow her, leaning his head in to cover her mouth with his own and swallow down her moans as he jerks against her, cock pulsing warmly deep within her sex.

Then she goes limp, head collapsing on his shoulder as she slowly starts catching her breath. Her body feels lethargic and weak, but incredibly good, warm and loose and soft. Remarkably, not at all sore - especially given the less than orthopaedic status of Viktor's desk. She lets out a little giggle into the side of his neck, feeling warm and affectionate.

Viktor laughs too, a warm chuckle that he follows with a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Are you ready for me to move, zlato?" he asks and she gives him a tired nod, wincing slightly at the feeling of him sliding out of her, even though he does it very carefully. She watches as he leans back from the desk and works on getting his trousers and underwear straightened.

"You don't have a sink in here?" She slurs, very tired.

"Ah, no." Viktor responds, almost sheepishly, "It is not ideal, but I will at least need my clothes back on so I can make a trip to the faculty bathroom across the hall and steal some towels."

He does an awkward sort of hop, adjusting his clothes but avoiding putting any weight on his right leg. She quickly realises that he probably overexerted it and either hadn't noticed or just trying his best to ignore it. She frowns, "Just hang out with me for a sec, don't go yet."

He smiles, "That is very kind of you, but there is little appropriate room for me to eh, 'hang out' as you put it."

"Wait, one second." She manages to shuffle herself to the side a little, tapping the free space on the desk with her hand, "Hop on up."

Viktor gives her a warm sort of look and takes her up on the offer, lifting himself up onto the desk and then letting his upper half lie flat. She does the same, laying back on the desk and staring up at the ceiling, an overjoyed smile tugs at her lips when his hand quickly finds hers, thumb tracing the back of her knuckles.

"Remind me to give you my number when we get back down." He says warmly, squeezing her hand once.

She turns her head and gives him a quizzical look, "I already have your number."

He levels his gaze with hers, smiling, "you have my business number."

"Oh…" she mutters, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"There is a lovely little cafe a few blocks away, I will have to show you sometime." his smile turns mischievous and he whispers, "You could always bring your laptop, if you intend on getting some more writing done."

She giggles and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, "So long as you promise to read it when I'm done," and then, because she suddenly feels hardly nervous at all, she winks playfully and adds, "Professor."

"You will not be able to call me that during office hours." Viktor answers with a telling flush on his cheekbones, "I like it too much."

She smiles warmly, "We should meet up outside of office hours more often, then." she chews her lower lip, "Not uh, not just for sex, I-I mean-"

Viktor reaches his hand out, running the backs of his knuckles down the length of her cheek, "I'll admit, I have done this all a bit out of order, but I would like to take you on a proper date sometime." his eyes crinkle when he smiles, "Maybe after I finish grading finals?"

"That sounds perfect." She replies, unable to stop smiling, "And then, after that…" she says coyly, shuffling a little closer to him, "We never made it to chapter Eleven, did we?"

"No." Viktor replies, eyes growing wide, "We did not."

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

“Yes! Tell me he’s spoiling you the way he’s spoiling us today.” You shrank back in your seat a bit. It wasn’t that it was the first time you were the center of attention with your friends, but it overwhelmed you specifically since it concerned Bucky. “Well, he bought me this outfit. And he has bought me a ton of books since I love to read,” you answered. You weren’t about to say that he transferred a ton of money into your account. “And on our first date he gave me a diamond necklace.”

Oh no being the center of attention is bad, but because of Bucky, the person that she wants to not really think or talk about? Arguably worse

“We all know you aren’t going to flaunt any gift he gets you, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at you. He had hearts in his eyes,” Gina smiled. You tried to smile back. There were hearts alright, along with some darkness that they weren’t aware of. “I’m surprised he even looked at us.” “Yeah, he’s… kind of intense like that,” you said. That was the word you’d go with. “Intense isn’t necessarily bad.” Addison scooted closer to you. “And you’re happy, right? He treats you well?”

Intense is one way to describe it...

If being treated like a doll, having you followed, and showering you with affection while messing with your head was meant to make you happy… “He thinks we’re soulmates. That we were meant to find each other and be together. It’s… a lot,” you said carefully. “I haven’t had anyone who seems to need me the way he does, especially so quickly.” “Soulmates? Wow,” Addison said. “I can see why you’d say it’s a lot.”

And with a lot she really means A LOT

“Ahh! You beautiful slut! Thigh riding is so hot!” If anyone ever needed a hype girl or enabler, Dana was the one to call. “And what are you waiting for?! Let him fuck you and eat your kitty. Do it for us.”

Do it for us lmao

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Addison promised. Of all of your friends, she’d snap if Bucky ever hurt you. “You wait as long as you want.”

Period

“I’m texting my man and telling him you got a diamond necklace.” Dana quickly typed something on her phone. “He needs to step up his game.”

Fair hahha this is the only way to use Buckys affection for good 😅

You were on the verge of tears. They were happy for you, but didn't seem to notice your discomfort. You didn’t blame them. Not at all. It was your fault for not being truthful about the true nature of your relationship. That wedge you imagined Bucky was trying to drive between you and your friends felt real and they didn't even know.

💔💔💔

“Wow. If you’re considering that it’s either because you’re going along with what he wants or you really care about him. I hope it’s the latter,” she said, her brows pinching in concern. “But, listen, if you aren’t ready for that, he has to understand you haven’t dated in some time and you should go at the pace that makes you feel comfortable. I’m sure he’ll understand and it shouldn’t change how he feels.”

She's a good friend 🫶🏻

Your words caught in your throat. The pace wasn’t yours to control, even if Natasha said you had power. There was no choice in moving in and you wish you could blurt out every single thing that transpired, but the words refused to come out. Because all you could think about was what would happen to Addison, and she didn’t deserve any kind of pain.

This just breaks my heart 💔

You blinked tears away before you hugged her. You were lucky to have a friend like her. “A frying pan? What happened to a shovel?” you teased. “Frying pan is more accessible,” she teased back, giving you a squeeze. “Now let’s go. We have some wine to try.”

Fair 😅

You inhaled. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. Everything went back to him, and you had to say something. “You know what I should tell her?” You smiled as they listened expectantly. “I should tell her that even though Bucky is rich and handsome and could have anyone he wants, he stalked me and coerced me into being his girlfriend. You think her head will still explode, or will she just laugh?” The table went silent as you sipped your wine before they burst out laughing. A few heads turned your way from the sound, and you didn’t crack a smile when Ray made eye contact with you. Had he heard what you said?

Iconic!! Let it out!!

“What?” Bucky growled. He could be angry all he wanted. You didn’t care. “This isn’t something to argue about or negotiate, I need you safe and-” “Safe? You need me to be safe?” you asked, trying to stay calm amidst the storm inside you. “Has it occurred to you that the entire reason I’m not safe is because of you? That the only reason Zemo even cares about following me is because I’m your girl?”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

“But you didn’t, Bucky. You didn’t let me know what I was getting into. One look at me and you made the decision for me and sealed my fate,” you continued, looking sadly at Ray. “So while I’m thinking of you today like you wanted, I want you to think of me and that target you painted on my back and my loved ones. And think about if you really love me the way you say you do.”

I love that she makes him rethink his choices! Not sure how useful it is but still!

“I’m finishing the day with my friends. Ray will stay here with me. I also need to go to my place before I go to the penthouse,” you said. If he wanted you there so badly, he could bend a bit since you were in no direct danger at the moment. “And don’t expect a happy conversation like we had this morning.”

Good for her!

You stared at your own glass, dread filling your stomach. You felt perfectly fine, but they looked tired. Was it possible that someone slipped something in their drinks or food? Did Ray do something or did Bucky set something up in order to make you leave? Or were you just being paranoid?

Oh no 🙈

You read the message twice. A flat tire? You were about to type back to Bucky that you already left the limo when you heard a familiar voice by the elevator. “It’s about time you got back.”

Not good😬

Hold You Tight: Part 19

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 18 | Series Masterlist | Part 20

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Summary: Your day out with your friends isn't as relaxing as you want it to be.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, drinking, suspected drugging, reference to stalking and violence, your friends are cheering you on, inner turmoil, stubborn reader, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you again for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You wished you could say you breathed easier as the limo pulled away, but you didn’t. You felt Bucky’s piercing eyes on you, watching until you were completely out of sight. He still wasn’t “out of sight, out of mind.” He made sure you’d think about him, and Ray was following in his vehicle. Even glancing quickly at the limo partition you could see that it was cracked. Was the driver one of Bucky’s men?

“Okay, so your new boyfriend is stupidly hot and loaded,” Dana said, her eyes darting around the limo. “You should be proud of yourself. Holy shit.”

“I should be proud of somehow snagging a hot and loaded guy?” you laughed a little. You always told yourself money wasn’t a factor as long as the love was there.

“Yes! Tell me he’s spoiling you the way he’s spoiling us today.”

You shrank back in your seat a bit. It wasn’t that it was the first time you were the center of attention with your friends, but it overwhelmed you specifically since it concerned Bucky. “Well, he bought me this outfit. And he has bought me a ton of books since I love to read,” you answered. You weren’t about to say that he transferred a ton of money into your account. “And on our first date he gave me a diamond necklace.”

The girls gasped. “Clothes, books, and a diamond necklace?! Yeah, be proud and fucking flaunt it,” Dana encouraged. She had to be half teasing since she knew that wasn’t your style. “Gina, Addison, back me up here.”

“We all know you aren’t going to flaunt any gift he gets you, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at you. He had hearts in his eyes,” Gina smiled. You tried to smile back. There were hearts alright, along with some darkness that they weren’t aware of. “I’m surprised he even looked at us.”

“Yeah, he’s… kind of intense like that,” you said. That was the word you’d go with.

“Intense isn’t necessarily bad.” Addison scooted closer to you. “And you’re happy, right? He treats you well?”

If being treated like a doll, having you followed, and showering you with affection while messing with your head was meant to make you happy… “He thinks we’re soulmates. That we were meant to find each other and be together. It’s… a lot,” you said carefully. “I haven’t had anyone who seems to need me the way he does, especially so quickly.”

“Soulmates? Wow,” Addison said. “I can see why you’d say it’s a lot.”

You could’ve hugged her. Maybe she saw through some of the charade. If she did, that could also put her in danger if she spoke out.

“Or maybe he just knows what he wants and he’s an all in kind of guy,” Dana commented. She had no idea. “Wait! Have you two had sex?!”

“No, we haven’t had sex yet,” you answered. Just him jerking off over the phone and some heavy petting and jerking off again with you nearby. “But he really wants to sleep with me and I did ride his thigh,” you mumbled.

It was still clear as day in your head, how he encouraged you to get off, his lips against yours. You didn’t want to think about it, but Bucky got his way and invaded your thoughts. It was inevitable.

“Ahh! You beautiful slut! Thigh riding is so hot!” If anyone ever needed a hype girl or enabler, Dana was the one to call. “And what are you waiting for?! Let him fuck you and eat your kitty. Do it for us.”

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Addison promised. Of all of your friends, she’d snap if Bucky ever hurt you. “You wait as long as you want.”

You were trying to wait, but it was only a matter of time before you had to sleep with him. “It’s just…”

“Are you worried that his feelings will fade once you two have sex?” Gina asked.

“I’m not worried about his feelings diminishing,” you said with complete sincerity. His feelings wouldn’t waver, even if his actions screamed love-bombing. “I just… I guess I never pictured myself dating someone who owns a nightclub. He just seems out of my league.”

And he was someone who had very dangerous ties.

“No, we don’t put ourselves down here. Every league is your league, and he should be honored to be your guy.” Dana clapped her hands together. “Ooh! What if we do a big date night at his club? We bring our guys, and we can all hang out?”

Your eyes widened. “I… Maybe,” you replied. It would just be another chance for Bucky to charm them, and it felt like you’d be asking him for a favor by letting your friends in. He’d probably love it.

“I’m texting my man and telling him you got a diamond necklace.” Dana quickly typed something on her phone. “He needs to step up his game.”

You were on the verge of tears. They were happy for you, but didn't seem to notice your discomfort. You didn’t blame them. Not at all. It was your fault for not being truthful about the true nature of your relationship. That wedge you imagined Bucky was trying to drive between you and your friends felt real and they didn't even know.

“As fun as it is talking about Bucky, maybe we can talk about something else?” you smiled, nudging Addison. You didn’t want this whole day to be about Bucky and your relationship. “Your big day is getting closer.”

“Yes, it is,” she smiled.

You relaxed in the seat when the conversation shifted to the wedding and found yourself smiling and laughing through the rest of the ride. Bucky still lingered in your mind since he’d be at the wedding. The nice part was that since you were in the bridal party, he couldn’t spend the entire day with you.

“We’re here!” Addison smiled as the limo eventually came to a stop.

You were the last to get out and you took a deep breath. The winery was the perfect mix of relaxation, beauty, and good vibes. The lush vineyard stretched across the hills, and you wished for a moment you could run through them and disappear. The sun on your face brought you back to the present and made you smile, and you couldn't wait to sample some wine with the girls. You had a right to enjoy your time.

“You coming?” Dana asked.

“You two go ahead. We’ll be right in,” Addison said, linking her arm with yours and leading you away from the limo. You tensed up only for a moment when you saw Ray’s vehicle in the distance. It didn’t look completely out of place though since there were other cars and people around. “Okay, what’s up? You seem on edge.”

“I do?” you asked. You thought she didn’t notice, and you should’ve known better.

“Yeah. Is it work? Or is it about Bucky?” You tensed up again. “Did you think we wouldn’t like him?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just a lot really fast, that’s all,” you said, leaning in to whisper, “I didn’t want to say it in the limo, but he wants me to move in with him.”

She stopped walking. “Whoa. Okay, that is fast, but some couples do move quickly in whirlwind romances, so I wouldn’t say it’s completely out of the ordinary. Brady and I knew right away that we wanted to be together,” she said. What she had with Brady was pure, and you could’ve possibly had that with Bucky in another life. “Maybe Dana’s right that he just knows what he wants and he wants to go all in.”

“He’s very much all in,” you agreed.

“Are you considering moving in with him?”

“Maybe,” you said. Bucky was going to force his hand either way.

“Wow. If you’re considering that it’s either because you’re going along with what he wants or you really care about him. I hope it’s the latter,” she said, her brows pinching in concern. “But, listen, if you aren’t ready for that, he has to understand you haven’t dated in some time and you should go at the pace that makes you feel comfortable. I’m sure he’ll understand and it shouldn’t change how he feels.”

Your words caught in your throat. The pace wasn’t yours to control, even if Natasha said you had power. There was no choice in moving in and you wish you could blurt out every single thing that transpired, but the words refused to come out. Because all you could think about was what would happen to Addison, and she didn’t deserve any kind of pain.

“And if I do care about him and want to move in?” you asked.

“You know we’ll support whatever you do, but think about it carefully because that’s a big step. And if things go south, you tell us right away so we can help,” she said, giving you a small smile. “He may be your boyfriend, but you’re still my best friend and I was here first. I’ll smack him with a frying pan if he messes up.”

You blinked tears away before you hugged her. You were lucky to have a friend like her. “A frying pan? What happened to a shovel?” you teased.

“Frying pan is more accessible,” she teased back, giving you a squeeze. “Now let’s go. We have some wine to try.”

Ray kept a respectable distance from your table and didn’t make eye contact as he pretended to read while sipping his drink. You were glad for that since your friends didn’t seem to take notice of him as you all ate and sampled various wines. Though you were having a great time, you hardly drank a drop. You wanted to stay on guard in case Bucky decided to crash the outing.

“Oh, we need to take a bottle of this home,” Dana said, pointing at her empty glass. “And where the hell is your cousin?!”

“She bailed.” Addison rolled her eyes. “That's exactly why she’s not in the wedding party. I can’t rely on her.”

“That and she’s a bitch,” Dana said unapologetically while pointing at you. “We know she would’ve said something shitty about you and Bucky, and we don’t need that bad energy.”

You scoffed. Addison’s cousin was the type who always had to one-up someone or try to tear them down so she felt better about herself. You tried to see the best in others, but you were admittedly glad she wasn’t there today. “I’m sure she’ll have something to say at the wedding.”

“If she does say anything, don’t listen to her,” Addison urged. “Or say something back to shut her down.”

“Rub it in her face how hot and rich Bucky is,” Dana grinned, nudging you with her elbow. “Her head will explode.”

You inhaled. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. Everything went back to him, and you had to say something. “You know what I should tell her?” You smiled as they listened expectantly. “I should tell her that even though Bucky is rich and handsome and could have anyone he wants, he stalked me and coerced me into being his girlfriend. You think her head will still explode, or will she just laugh?”

The table went silent as you sipped your wine before they burst out laughing. A few heads turned your way from the sound, and you didn’t crack a smile when Ray made eye contact with you. Had he heard what you said?

Dana laughed so hard she wheezed. “You don’t understand. I need you to tell her that just to see the look on her face. Please. I beg of you.”

“And make sure Bucky’s in on the joke, too,” Gina giggled.

Your heart sank. Their safety came first, but the reaction was another reason you didn’t say anything. Who would possibly believe you? He was a rich and powerful man and you were merely a florist. “Maybe I can say something that’s not quite so dark,” you smiled.

Addison stared at you curiously before she shook her head. “You and your sense of humor,” she teased, drinking the rest of her glass. “But if you could shut her up, I’ll be thankful.”

Your phone dinged before you could respond, and you almost spit up the little wine you had when you saw a message from Bucky.

“Call me. Now.”

Direct. No sweet words. Oh, no.

“Is that your loverboy?” Dana wiggled her eyebrows.

“As a matter of fact it is and he’s asking for me to call him. Do you mind if…”

“Go. We’ll be right here,” Addison smiled.

Your legs felt a bit rubbery as you walked outside and took a look around to make sure no one was nearby. What if he had a bug in your phone and he heard what you said? Oh, God. You were so stupid.

Pressing his name on your phone, you let out a shaky breath when he immediately picked up. “Kotyonok, I need you to come back,” he replied, his tone stern. Upset.

You swallowed. God, he did hear you. You could convince him it was a joke, right? No one had to get hurt. “Why, what’s wrong?” you asked, your tone remarkably calm. “We aren’t done with our samples.”

“You were followed to Addison’s this morning by one of Zemo’s men. Ray and I both spotted him.” There were muffled noises in the background. “I just finished… talking to him.”

“I was followed?” you whispered, your heart sinking for a completely different reason now. The day you went out with your friends someone followed you? “What did he want?”

“I can explain more later, but he had a ‘look, but don’t touch’ order. I broke his fingers anyway.” You closed your eyes. He sounded proud of himself. “I have some business to attend to for the rest of the day and I have to go to the club after, which is why I need you back at home.”

Ray appearing behind you almost made you drop your phone. “Jesus, Ray,” you gasped, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, briefly resting a hand on your shoulder. “Boss messaged me to bring you home.”

“Yeah, I’m talking to him right now,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “And I’m not going home right now. I'm not leaving.”

“What?” Bucky growled. He could be angry all he wanted. You didn’t care. “This isn’t something to argue about or negotiate, I need you safe and-”

“Safe? You need me to be safe?” you asked, trying to stay calm amidst the storm inside you. “Has it occurred to you that the entire reason I’m not safe is because of you? That the only reason Zemo even cares about following me is because I’m your girl?”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I painted the very target on your back by falling for you? I’m well aware of that fact, but I’m also the one who can keep you safe.” He sounded almost as vulnerable as he did when he talked about his mom. “So just… come home.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Home. “You know, there are a lot of dangerous people out there who have families and loved ones. And I’m sure some of them are blissfully unaware of what goes on behind the scenes, but not all of them are. Some are very well aware of what their partners do for a living because they were told what they were getting into.”

“Kotyonok-”

“But you didn’t, Bucky. You didn’t let me know what I was getting into. One look at me and you made the decision for me and sealed my fate,” you continued, looking sadly at Ray. “So while I’m thinking of you today like you wanted, I want you to think of me and that target you painted on my back and my loved ones. And think about if you really love me the way you say you do.”

“I do love you,” he breathed. It would be nice to believe that. “Come home, please, and we’ll talk when I get back from the club.”

“I’m finishing the day with my friends. Ray will stay here with me. I also need to go to my place before I go to the penthouse,” you said. If he wanted you there so badly, he could bend a bit since you were in no direct danger at the moment. “And don’t expect a happy conversation like we had this morning.”

One step forward, two steps back.

“I’ll just be happy that you’re safe,” he said, which only infuriated you more. You couldn’t make out what he ordered to someone else, but the muffled noises picked up again. “Leave in thirty minutes. The driver will drop your friends off and he’ll take you to the apartment. Ray will take you home from there.”

“Two hours,” you stated just to be stubborn.

“One hour,” he countered. “Or I’ll drive there myself.”

You huffed, but didn’t want to test him. “Fine. I’ll leave in one hour.” The girls would understand if you made some excuse.

“Thank you,” he exhaled. He really did sound relieved. “I love you. I’ll see you later this evening.”

You waited a beat. “Think about what I said.” Ray waited patiently as you hung up. “Have I told you that your boss is a pain in the ass?”

“He certainly is, but he is correct that your safety is important,” he agreed, gently stopping you before you went back inside. “If you aren’t in the limo in one hour, he will come after you.”

“I know,” you sighed. Bucky would be dramatic like that. And protective. “Someone was really following me?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky had no reason to lie unless he was trying to get you away from your friends.

Ray nodded solemnly. “It could’ve been to report your movements back to Zemo, but I’d have to ask the boss for more details since I didn’t get to interrogate him myself.”

“I do appreciate you both spotting him,” you complimented, even if Bucky violently handled it. You shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Of course.” There was a ghost of a smile on his face. “You were wrong, you know.”

Your brows pinched. “About what?”

“Your strength. You handled that well all things considered,” he answered.

“You’re only saying that because you can’t read my mind,” you said. It was a mess. But you hadn’t broken down or cried, so that was a plus.

For a moment you thought he’d laugh, but he merely nodded to the building. “Better go join your friends before they miss you.”

“Thanks, Ray,” you whispered, putting a smile back on your face as you walked back inside and headed back to the table.

Addison held up two fingers. “You missed two more rounds of samples.”

“I guess I'll have to catch up,” you teased. “And would anyone object to leaving in an hour? Bucky’s planning a romantic evening for the two of us, and I need to stop by my apartment before I head over to his place,” you said. It was partially true. “If you all want to stay, I’ll get an uber and you can take the limo.”

“An hour’s fine.” Dana blinked a few times. “Anyone else tired? I’m a little tired.”

Gina covered her mouth when she yawned. “Yeah, I am, too.”

“I feel fine,” you said, frowning when Addison yawned, too. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but a nap sounds good right about now,” she said, pushing her now empty glass away and checking the time. “It is kind of late. It’ll be night time when we get back.”

You stared at your own glass, dread filling your stomach. You felt perfectly fine, but they looked tired. Was it possible that someone slipped something in their drinks or food? Did Ray do something or did Bucky set something up in order to make you leave? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Is everyone okay?” you asked. It felt like too much of a coincidence that they all felt tired after you came back to the table. “Should we just leave right now?”

“I’m fine. I was just up really late last night,” Addison answered. Dana and Gina nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should cut back on the samples and stick with water,” you suggested.

“You’ve always been the sensible one,” Dana said, resting her chin in her hand. “But can we still buy some bottles?”

“Yeah. As many as we want,” you promised. Bucky did say he’d spoil you, so why not?

Exactly one hour later, you were back in the limo with the girls and plenty of bottles. Unlike the ride over, the ride back was much quieter. You thought Addison would fall asleep on your shoulder at one point and Dana actually did fall asleep at one point for a few minutes. They somehow didn’t stumble on the way to the limo, and it would’ve impressed you if you weren’t so worried.

“Are you sure you girls are okay? Should we go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Why would we do that? We drank more at my bachelorette party than we did today. We’re fine,” Addison assured you. “You worry too much.”

You had good reason to worry. “This sounds crazy, but did you drug my friends? I need to know if I should take them to the hospital.” you messaged Bucky. If he did something to them…

He typed something back right away. “How could I possibly drug your friends when I wasn’t there? Is everyone okay?”

Did he actually care? “I’m fine, but they’re very drowsy and I’m worried.”

“Ray kept me updated and he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. None of Zemo’s men were there. I didn't do anything either. Did any of them complain that they were dizzy? Nauseous? Did anyone pass out?”

“No, but it could've been something like Benadryl to make them drowsy and get me to possibly leave faster.” Or punish you by mentioning the stalking thing, if he knew, and show you that his reach expanded beyond the city.

“That’s a very creative method to get you to leave, but lots of wine can make anyone drowsy and I have no reason to do that to your friends. I think our conversation may have scared you a bit since Zemo had someone watching you and you’re understandably worried for your friends.”

You looked around at your friends. They did drink a lot more wine than you, and drugging people didn’t seem to be Bucky’s style. Zemo’s men weren’t there. Maybe you were being paranoid and the girls really were just tired. Being part of Bucky’s circle just made you question everything.

“Okay. I’m trusting you.” You had to.

“Thank you. Your worry aside, it sounds like you girls had fun though from what I heard. Maybe the next day out can be at my club. Could be fun.”

You gasped. Did he know what Dana suggested? No, no, no. You weren’t falling down that rabbit hole, and didn’t send any texts back for the rest of the drive.

Brady and the other guys were waiting on the curb when the limo stopped at Addison’s. You were the only one who didn’t get out, but you gave each of them hugs and helped hand out the wine to their significant others. They seemed a bit more awake, so maybe they were just fine. “Love you girls. And, guys, keep an eye on them. They had quite a few samples,” you said. You’d have to text each of them later to check on them.

“Love you,” the girls echoed before the door shut.

The driver headed in the direction of your place after a minute. What were you going to say to Bucky when you saw him? Would you scream at him for putting you in danger, or would you just accept that this was your life? It was a continuous losing battle the more you fought.

The morning you had with Bucky, minus the groping, had been somewhat nice. Could it be like that all the time if you tried? Could it be better if he loosened the reins?

“Thank you,” you said when the limo stopped and the partition rolled down a few inches. “How much do I owe you?”

“Mr. Barnes took care of that, miss, but if you’ll allow me-”

“Oh, no. Please don’t get out. I got it,” you smiled, letting yourself out. You scanned the street for Ray’s car, but didn’t see it. He was likely waiting for the limo to pull away.

Two steps into your building, your phone dinged. “What now?” you muttered when you opened a text from Bucky.

“Ray got a flat tire. Stay in the limo.”

You read the message twice. A flat tire? You were about to type back to Bucky that you already left the limo when you heard a familiar voice by the elevator. “It’s about time you got back.”

You couldn’t breathe when you found a pair of blue eyes staring at you. “Clark… what are you doing here?”

Oh, I hope you lovelies are prepared for the next part. And what do we think of your friends? And were they just drowsy or did something happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[valkyriexo]

When You Start Getting Distant Because You’re in a Relationship | Maknae Line

ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Headcannon, angst

ᑉ³warnings; none I think!

ᑉ³authors note; You guys seemed to like the hyung line! Here is the Maknae Version Hyung Line

╰┈➤ Han

Tries to act like nothing’s wrong, but it’s so obvious something is. He still jokes around, still sends you funny messages—but there’s hesitation now, a nervousness in his texts that wasn’t there before.

Overthinks everything. Did he say something weird? Is he being annoying? Are you ignoring him on purpose? His brain runs in circles, making up worst-case scenarios.

Writes songs about it. Instead of telling you how he feels, he pours it all into lyrics....verses full of confessions, frustration, and so much longing.

Tries to distract himself with food and games, but nothing feels the same. Even his favorite snacks taste bland when you’re not there to steal a bite. His high scores don’t feel like victories when you’re not there to celebrate.

Gets weirdly competitive with your S/O—even if they don’t know it. If they post a funny joke, he has to post something funnier. If they do something romantic, he mutters, “I could’ve done it better.”

Has a hard time Dealing with his emotions. Emotions and Han Jisung don’t mix well...so it explodes out of him all at once.

"You’re really just gonna leave me behind like this?"

The words come out sharper than he intended, but he can’t stop them. His usual playfulness is gone.

"I mean, seriously—what happened? One second, we’re fine, and the next, I barely exist to you."

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You don’t text first anymore. You cancel plans. And every time I try to talk to you, it’s like you’re already halfway out the door."

You try to explain, but he just throws his hands up.

"I get it, okay? You have someone now. But did that mean I had to lose you completely?"

His voice is quieter now, but his eyes, usually so full of light, are clouded with something else.

"I was supposed to be that person."

His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

"You think I didn’t notice? The way I felt whenever you were around? The way I’d drop everything just to see you smile?" He laughs bitterly. "I knew it before I even admitted it to myself."

Then, finally, his voice barely above a whisper—

"But I guess I was too late, huh?"

And for once, Jisung has no joke to cover up the pain.

╰┈➤ Felix

Tries to be supportive, even when it hurts. He forces a smile, tells you he’s happy for you, and pretends like his heart isn’t sinking every time you mention your S/O.

Still checks up on you, even if you don’t check up on him. Sends you little “Did you eat?” or “Get home safe” texts, even when you stop replying as fast as you used to.

Bakes way too much. His kitchen turns into an emotional war zone....cookies, brownies, cakes, anything to keep himself busy. But no matter how many sweets he makes, nothing takes away the bitter feeling in his chest.

Tries to keep up his usual affection, but it feels… different. He hesitates before reaching for a hug, pulls away too quickly, laughs a little softer when you ruffle his hair.

Plays video games as an escape. But even when he wins, it doesn’t feel as satisfying when you’re not there to celebrate with him.

Finally breaks when he realizes you’re truly slipping away. He wanted to be patient, wanted to be the good friend, but that didnt go as planned.

"You don’t need me anymore, do you?"

Felix’s voice is quiet, almost trembling, but his eyes are locked onto yours...searching, begging for an answer he’s afraid to hear.

"I mean… I get it," he laughs weakly, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "You have someone now. You’re happy. That’s all I ever wanted."

He pauses, swallows hard.

"But… was I ever that important to you?"

Your breath catches, and he takes a shaky step back, hands clenching at his sides.

"Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore." His voice wavers, his deep tone softer than ever. "I’m still here, you know? I still—" He stops himself, letting out a quiet sigh.

Then, almost too soft to hear—

"I still love you."

It’s out before he can take it back, and when he sees your eyes widen, he lets out a small, sad chuckle.

"I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was enough just to be near you. But then you started pulling away, and suddenly, I wasn’t even part of your life anymore."

His voice cracks, and he shakes his head, looking down.

"I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I?"

When he looks back up, his usual warmth is dimmer.

"But it’s too late now, isn’t it?"

╰┈➤ Seungmin

Acts like he doesn’t care—but oh, he cares. His usual teasing gets a little sharper, his sarcasm a little more pointed. He pretends everything is normal, but his eyes tell a different story.

Stops reaching out first. If you want to talk to him, you can text him. (Except he still waits for your messages, still checks his phone way too often, still hopes.)

Gets quieter around you. Normally, he always has a witty remark, a playful jab...but now, there are more pauses, more silences that stretch a little too long.

Starts staying late at practice, distracting himself with work. If he can’t talk to you, he’ll at least be productive about it.

Refuses to admit he’s jealous, even when it’s painfully obvious. If someone points it out, he scoffs, “Jealous? Of what? Please.” (Meanwhile, his grip on his water bottle tightens.)

Finally breaks when he catches you actively avoiding him. He was fine with being second place.....until he realizes he’s not even in the running anymore.

"Are you serious?"

Seungmin’s voice is steady.....too steady. He stares at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something burning behind his eyes.

"So this is how it is now?" He lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You don’t even bother pretending anymore, huh?"

You shift uncomfortably, and he shakes his head, jaw clenching.

"You didn’t even notice, did you?" His tone is sharp, but there’s something underneath it...something fragile, something aching.

"I stopped texting first. I stopped calling. I stopped everything just to see if you’d even care. And guess what?" He exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again.

"You didn’t."

The words hang in the air, heavier than either of you expected.

For a second, he looks like he wants to stop himself. Like he wants to shove the words back down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Do you even know how stupid I feel?" His voice drops lower, quieter. "Standing here, saying all this, when I already know how it ends?"

Then, almost as if the confession is being dragged out of him—

"I liked you, you know."

A bitter smile tugs at his lips.

"Maybe I still do."

His fingers curl into fists at his sides, but his voice stays painfully steady.

"But I’m not going to beg for your attention."

With one last glance...one that lingers just a second too long...he steps back.

"So if you’re going to keep pushing me away, then fine. I’ll stop trying."

╰┈➤ Jeongin

Tries to play it cool but completely fails. He acts like everything is fine, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

Laughs less around you. Normally, he lights up when you’re near, but now, his laughter feels forced...like he’s just going through the motions.

Overthinks everything. Did he do something wrong? Did he annoy you? Or are you just done with him? His thoughts spiral, but he never asks, too scared of the answer.

Becomes awkwardly formal. Where he used to call you cute nicknames or casually tease you, now it’s just “Oh, hey,” and “Yeah, sure.” Like he’s putting up a wall between you.

Starts avoiding you, even though you’re the one pulling away. If you don’t need him, maybe it’s better if he keeps his distance too. But it hurts more than he thought it would.

He sees you with your S/O and realizes he’s not the person you run to anymore. He wasn’t going to say anything, but his heart doesn’t listen.

"Do you even miss me?"

The question slips out before Jeongin can stop it, and when you turn to look at him, his lips press together like he already regrets saying it.

"Because it really doesn’t feel like you do."

His voice is soft, but there’s a rawness to it....like he’s been holding this in for way too long.

"I get it," he says, forcing a smile. "You’re happy. You have someone now. But..." His voice trails off, and he lets out a small, bitter laugh. "I guess I just didn’t think I’d lose you completely."

You start to say something, but he shakes his head.

"I used to be the one you told everything to. The one who could make you laugh even on your worst days." He swallows hard, voice growing quieter. "Now, I’m just someone you used to be close with, huh?"

He looks away, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s trying to keep himself together.

"I really liked you, you know."

The confession is barely above a whisper, like he doesn’t even want to hear himself say it.

"But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?"

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[warrioreowynofrohan]

Character Analysis – Edmund Bertram

I have a better opinion of Edmund Bertram than much of the Jane Austen fandom has, and I am going to try to explain why. It comes down to several things:

1) He probably makes more sacrifices for people other than a woman he is in love with than any other Jane Austen hero.

He has to sacrifice a great deal of the economic condition he would normally expect in order to enable Tom’s debts to be paid, and Tom doesn’t even care about this or feel guilty for it. At no point does Edmund show hostility to or resentment of his brother over this, nor does he ever bring it up to Tom to guilt him, not even when Tom is doing something Edmund considers immoral and disrespectful to their father; Edmund makes his arguments against the play on the merits, as best he can. Nor does he bring it up to Tom when the (relative to expectations) small income he can expect is one of the principal barriers to him marrying the woman he loves.

He goes out of his way to be kind to Fanny from the start (seriously, how few 16-year-old boys would take the time to listen and be kind to and help a ten-year-old girl? Most 16-year-old boys are dreadful, from my experience of high school.)

He sells one of his horses to buy one that Fanny can ride, when riding is recommended for her health. This is no small thing, given how frequently-used horses were in that time. This isn’t like, say, selling one of your three cars; it’s more like choosing to give up either your computer, tablet, or cell phone, and never (or, well, for many years) have a replacement again. Lending the horse to Mary Crawford for a couple days is a fault, but to me a fairly minor fault in light of this.

He is determined that he will live in his parsonage rather than – as would be done by many members of the clergy in that day – live at Mansfield Park and ride over once a week to preach. It is important to him that he do his job well and live among the people he is ministering to, and he is not tempted to try to modify his parsonage into a much fancier house when Henry Crawford tries to talk him into it. Nor is he willing to pursue a career that Mary Crawford would be more favourable to. He genuinely cares about his vocation as a pastor, and is willing to make sacrifices both of love and of comfort in order to do so. I don’t generally have a high opinion of the 19th-century Anglican clergy, Edmund is genuinely dedicated.

He tends to Tom gently and fairly continuously when Tom is sick, despite Edmund having plenty of worries of his own. The book says, “when able to talk, or be talked to, Edmund was the companion he preferred.” Edmund put off a proposal to the woman he loves in order to tend to Tom – and that tending is a duty that would, I think, usually have been considered as one for the women of the family. It really highlights how Edmund is the only Bertram with real feeling and care for his family members.

In light of this, I think that some of the things readers heavily criticize him for, like losing track of time one afternoon when he’s on an outing with his girlfriend, are comparatively minor and forgiveable. Edmund seems to me to put more concerted effort into doing the right thing than most other men in Jane Austen.

2) His ability to act is constrained relative to most other Austen heroes by the fact that he is a younger son, living at home, with two parents and an aunt still living. He does not have the authority to spend Sir Thomas’ money, and filial duty means he cannot outright denigrate Mrs. Norris to Fanny. The only other Jane Austen heroes who do not have their independence are Edward Ferrars and Henry Tilney (and both of them have rather different relationships with their family).

This means anything he does for Fanny, he has to do at his own expense – as when he sells one of his horses to buy one for her; as when he offers to stay with his mother while the others go to Sotherton so that Fanny can go. It’s the most effective way he has of addressing the way they treat her: oh, so you think it’s okay if this happens to Fanny? Well then, it’s happening to me instead. In the case of the Sotherton expedition, it quickly flips people to seeing that as unacceptable, making them bother to find another (fairly simple) solution that they hasn’t cared about finding before.

In a few ways, Edmund is placed in a more feminine role in the story than any other male leads: his principal good qualities are a strong moral sense and the provision of emotional support and care; he’s the bedrock of his family in the same way that Elinor Dashwood is for hers; he’s held back from the person he loves by economic precarity; and he seems to have a limited social circle outside his family (the drinking-and-gambling habits common in young male society among students of his class and time likely didn’t suit him).

In short, Henry Crawford does not care for and value Fanny Price more (or nearly as much) as Edmund does; his financial and familial position simply make it easy for him to do things, at insignificant cost to himself, that Edmund cannot do without behaving in a way that would, in his time, be deeply disrespectful to his parents and aunt. Edmund knows Fanny far better, understands her far better, and when he gives her gifts (like the necklace) it’s ones she likes and appreciates.

3) I don’t blame Edmund for being in love with Mary Crawford for much of the book because, frankly, she’s an appealing person, especially given Edmund’s narrow social circle. The combination of wit, liveliness, comsistent good humour, interesting conversation, and beauty (plus harp-playing) that she beings are not something the Bertrams encounter every day. He wants to think better of her than she is because her other characteristics are so appealing. I think that’s a very human reaction when in love. (Elizabeth Bennet falls for Wickham and makes excuses for him based on little more than good manners, good looks, flattery, and a mutual dislike of Darcy, and people don’t criticize her nearly as much.)

By the same token, I don’t blame him for being oblivious to Fanny’s love for him because absolutely everyone is and Fanny is very deliberately and determinedly concealing it. And given that, liking to spend somewhat more time with your girlfriend than your bestie is also, I think, quite forgivable in a young person.

4) On one area of frequent critique, that Edmund doesn’t listen to Fanny on several notable occasions (mainly about the Crawfords), I think their dynamic over several years is an important consideration. It’s somewhat a flipped version of Emma in that you’ve got a mentor-mentee relationship between the leads, but in this case it’s the mentor who is mistaken and the mentee who is right. Edmund has been supporting and advising and encouraging Fanny for many years, and many of those times he was right. For example, she was afraid of learning to ride when she first started with a pony, and Edmund encouraged her and comvinced her to do it, and she came to love it.

“Ah! cousin, when I remember how much I used to dread riding, what terrors it gave me to hear it talked of as likely to do me good; – (Oh! how I have trembled at my uncle’s opening his lips if horses were talked of) and then think of the kind pains you took to reason and persuade me out of my fears, and comvince me that I should like it after a littl while, and feel how right you proved to be, I am inclined to hope you may always prophesy as well.”

Fanny also, in another conversation, describes herself to Edmund as “foolish and awkward” and he insists “you have not a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly.” The narrative is clear about how consistent and important his care, sympathy, praise, and advoacy have been for her, for many years:

Edmund’s friendship never failed her: his leaving Eton for Oxford made no change in is kind dispositions, and only afforded more frequent opportunities of providing them. Without any display of doing more than the rest, or any fear of doing too much, he was always true to herinterests,and considerate of her feelings, trying to make her good qualities understood, and to conquer the diffidence which prevented their being more apparent; giving her advice, consolation, and encouragement.

Kept back as she was by every body else, his single support could not bring her forward, but his attentions were otherwise of the highest importance in assisting the improvement of her mind, and extending its pleasures. He knew her to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself…he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgement; he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.

The nature of this relationship also helps explain some of Edmund’s reaction to Henry Crawford’s proposal: while Edmund is very much at fault for disregarding her doubts about Henry Crawford’s morality, he is very used to Fanny being nervous and anxious about things that, once she is used to the and no longer afraid of them or uncertain of her abilities, she enjoys. (Such as riding.) So he is seeing her reaction in part through that frame.

The basic difficulty in Mansfield Park that affects perceptions of Edmund is that it is occurring at a moment of transition: the first time Fanny has been eclipsed in Edmund’s life, combined with a transition from him being a mentor and guide to them becoming equals, and her in fact surpassing him in perception and being willing to go against even his opinion in her choice to reject Henry Crawford. It’s the story of Fanny growing up, whereas Edmund (the mentor) is put in the place of Emma (the mentee) in Emma, in being mistaken in key assessments of people, and biased into seeing what he wants to see. This reversal is what allows them to be on equal footing, and for Edmund’s benefit from Fanny’s companionship to be as apparent or more apparent, to everyone, as his from her.

However, this means that for most of the novel we’re seeing Edmund and Famny’s relationship at the weakest point it’s ever been, which can’t help but affect readers’ attitudes to him; and I do think it’s a flaw that we don’t get an actual conversation at the end between Edmund and Fanny that deals with his recognition of his errors in judgement and the value of her perception and principle.

[16wolke11]

CRESTFALLEN - Lando Norris

A/N Tuesday is for the tears

Summary: The reader struggles with the emotional rollercoaster of her relationship with Lando, who has been increasingly distant, only returning when it's convenient for him. After a painful confrontation, where the reader tells him she can't continue in a relationship where her needs are unfulfilled, and despite Lando's pleas, she decides to leave, acknowledging that it's time to let go and move on.

Words: 2276

Warnings: Sad Ending __________

When I woke up this morning, I just wanted to go back to sleep, avoiding what would happen today and ignoring all my responsibilities forever. Lando is returning home today, and what usually would be a day of happiness for me is now something I await with dread. Today is the day I am going to end this relationship if you can even call it that.

Every time Lando leaves for a race, appointments at the headquarters, or anything else, I am crossed out of his life. It wasn’t like this when we first started seeing each other, but it turned into this miserable thing over time. Even though I’ve seen improvements, I can no longer do this without hurting myself over and over again.

So when he texts me, ignoring the one I sent him while he was away, I make my way to his apartment. Standing in front of the door, I didn’t even want to knock, when I was usually so ecstatic to meet him again. I take a deep breath before finally lifting my hand, and it doesn’t take long before the door flies open to reveal a grinning Lando.

“Hey love,” he greets me, pulling me into the hallway and lifting my chin to press his lips to mine. As much as I would like to sigh, kiss him back, and just snuggle into his embrace, this is not what I’m here for.

“Stop, Lando,” I mutter against his lips and manage to get out of his grip, leaving him with a confused look.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. But he does take a step back, letting me get rid of my coat, and I need to take a deep breath before speaking up.

“We need to talk.”

“That doesn’t sound fun,” Lando pouts, and I can feel some anger rising in my chest.

"This is serious, okay?" I snap and get a weird look in return. This isn’t a great start for a conversation, but since it isn’t going to be a good one, it might be okay.

"I just missed you. Can you at least give me a proper hug?" Lando mumbles, and I sigh. It feels like being guilt-trapped, but for him, it must be strange. Usually, I’m the first one to hug and kiss him when he’s back. Things have just changed without him noticing.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself,” I mutter to myself but do hug him, knowing that it’s probably the last time I’ll be close to him. Almost giving in to his familiar touch, I lean my head against his chest and wrap my arms around him. Lando did hear what I tried to only say to myself, and I can hear the confusion in his voice when he speaks up.

“What do you mean?”

I pull back from the hug and take a step back, trying to create some safe distance between us. “Me waiting for you to come back, waiting for this to become a real thing,” I begin, trying to find a starting point for this conversation that would make sense for Lando. He furrows his eyebrows, so I just keep rambling.

“Every time I think it might be different, you pull away again, leaving me behind like a convenient space-filler when you’re back home.” I try to stay strong, not wanting to cry at the beginning of the conversation, and calmly tell Lando my problem, but I know it’s going to be hard. Slowly, Lando’s eyes widen, and there’s concern on his face, like he’s slowly realizing which direction this conversation is going.

“It’s not like that. I don’t think you are…” He stutters, struggling to find his words, and ruffles his hands through his hair, messing it up slightly.

“Fuck, I never wanted to hurt you, you know that. Right?” Lando asks eyes fixated on me, and I lift one of my eyebrows at his question.

“Hurt me?” I ask him, thinking about what happened again and again during the last weeks. How my texts have been abandoned as soon as he left the country, and how he acted like nothing happened as soon as the plane touched down back here again.

“You’ve been doing that for months now,” I inform him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. A defensive move while trying to hold myself together and not fall apart.

“Acting like you care, and then just disappearing, acting like I never even existed.” I tell him what he did, at least from my perspective.

“I don’t know what to believe, what to think about you, and I need to figure out what you even want from me.” This is the reason for this conversation. Being with Lando was once my favourite thing, and now it’s something I fearfully look forward to. I can see that Lando gulps, fingers fiddling with each other. Good, at least he’s as nervous as I am about this topic.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lando admits, and I would love to believe him, but I just can’t. He desperately speaks up again, and I try to listen to his words.

“I don’t even know how to fix this, I try…” At this point, I already have to stop him.

“You try, really?” I scoff at his words because it felt like many things, but not like he tried to make this relationship work for us.

“It doesn’t feel like it. You come and go out of my life like I’m just a side character in your game of life. But I’m not.” There are many emotions on Lando’s face, trying to bubble up to the top, but I’m not finished. It’s finally time to tell him how I really feel about the whole thing we shouldn’t even call an “us.”

“I’m not here for you to just mess with me when it’s convenient and leave when it’s not.” My voice cracks, and I need to blink a couple of times, trying to get rid of the first tears prickling in my eyes. He uses me when he’s back home, and when he leaves, it’s like he pauses his life here and just continues playing when he’s interested in it again. But the world keeps spinning here, even though he isn’t here.

“That’s not my intention. Please, just listen.” Lando begs, trying to grab my wrist, holding onto me, but I snap my hand back, knowing I will fail to stay strong when his soft touch is on my skin. Lulling me back into the good times, but I need to keep a clear head now.

“I’ve listened to your excuses and promises for long enough. You’re no longer the person I fell for. You keep changing, and I don’t feel like I know you anymore.” I am no longer sounding as strong as I would like to, my voice rather thin, but I need to tell Lando how I felt during the last weeks. In the beginning, he was sweet, and I understood that his life was busy, but time passed, and he is no longer the one I fell in love with. The one who called me late at night just to talk for a bit, or even to keep each other company while watching a movie even though we were miles apart. Now he is the one who puts me away and just pulls me back out when it’s convenient for him.

“I never wanted that to happen,” Lando promises, now pacing up and down the room.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” He looks straight at me, and I try to listen to his words, maybe even to an explanation.

“I feel like I don’t even know how to be what you need.” Lando says, hesitating for a moment before continuing his speech. “You deserve someone who gives you everything, and I… I can’t do that.” He admits, and my heart aches. Even though I am angry at him, at the same time it hurts to see him broken. But for my own sanity, this needs to be done.

“Then why are you still here?” I ask him. When he is aware that he isn’t the right person for me, why didn’t he leave? Keeps torturing my feelings even though he tells me he knows better.

“I already gave you all of me, and you tell me it’s not enough? Is that the reason I’m not enough?” The tears flow now, but I don’t care. I could prepare myself for this conversation as much as I wanted, but some things just caught me off guard.

“It’s not about you not being enough. You are everything to me! But I don’t know how to let you be loved the way you deserve by me. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.” Lando tells me, and my heart breaks at the sight of him. His slumped shoulders and the absolutely broken look in his eyes. It does take me only a few seconds to realize the meaning behind his words.

“You’re afraid of love.” I whisper, a realization which does make sense, but makes everything just more painful than it already is.

I take a deep breath before coming to another hard point on my list. “And I can’t keep waiting for you to see me, really see me, without hurting myself.” Trying to keep my head up, I look into Lando’s face, wanting to see his reaction and if he is at least as hurt by this as I am. “How long do you think I was supposed to wait for you to figure this out?” I ask him, my voice trembling, I hate the hurtful feeling in my chest, but I know I need to break it fully now to slowly heal it later. “How long am I supposed to act like it’s okay while you keep breaking my heart?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Lando’s voice breaks, and I need to look twice to realize that he is crying as well. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable, and as cruel as it sounds, it’s almost good for me to see him hurt. That he can experience these feelings and not just brush them off as it felt for me every time he left before.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” he tells me, and I believe him.

“I love you, I really do, but I’m terrified of losing you and pushing you away.” I need to close my eyes at his confessions, warmth flooding my broken heart, but I have to let my head take over before my heart falls again for him.

“You already did this. You already pushed me away. And I don’t know if I have the strength to keep doing this. I don’t know if I can keep loving you like this when you pull away every time it gets too real.” I know it’s cruel to give him crumbs like telling him about the love, but I try to be honest. Put all my feelings into this, and this includes the hurtful things as well.

“Please don’t leave me.” Lando pleads, and he takes my hand in a desperate grip.

“I need you, and I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I’m scared. Scared of ruining everything, and I swear I…” He sniffles softly and takes a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I’ve tried too, you know.” I tell him and carefully start to remove his fingers from my hand. Fingers shaking, but I am determined to stay strong. “But it always felt like I was fighting this battle alone. I can’t be the only one trying anymore. I need someone who wants this, wants me.” I explain to him and take a step back, trying to bring back some distance between us.

“I want you, more than anything. I just need time.” Lando tells me, his fingers curling into his hoodie like he needs something to hold on to.

“I don’t have any time left. I can’t keep waiting for you to decide I’m worth it. Maybe I’m not, at least not for you.” This was something I thought about during Lando’s last trip. Maybe I am worthy of love, but not just of Lando’s.

“I just need to let go of the hope that one day everything will be perfect.” The little cry that comes with these words makes me sound even more miserable, but the truth has to be spoken. I need to let go of the perfect image of an “us” and try to go on with my life.

“Don’t say that.” Lando tells me, attempting again to grab my hand, and I let him, probably for the last time.

“Please don’t leave me.” His voice cracks, and I would like to hug him, tell him that everything is going to be okay, but that would be a lie.

“You are everything to me, and I will lose everything without you.” Lando pulls me closer, desperate, while we both just cry. He doesn’t stop me when I pull back my hands, his arms slumping down on the side of his body, and I can see the spirit breaking in his eyes when I step back.

“Maybe it’s already too late, Lando,” I whisper and turn around, finally leaving his apartment, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist him if I stayed any longer. This end is a beginning, and outside the building, I am finally able to breathe again for the first time in forever.

[yantao-enthusiast]

tumblr reading comprehension challenge impossible…. i literally said don’t give me discourse on this post. i don’t care about your opinion, scream it to the mountains. i’m just asking for you to stop putting it on my obvious silly post about my opinion (or anywhere in my notifs)

“age doesn’t matter in the wilderness” is crazy... ESPECIALLY in the context of him and misty like do you think all of a sudden his knowledge was nerfed out on the wilderness??? this isn’t even about the wilderness at this point, this is about ben’s inability to communicate with misty (even outside the wilderness) and letting it get worse to that boiling point. and… like even still a lot of the yellowjackets looked to ben for guidance even if he didn’t know anything like he did have power there. i’m not saying he’s a. “pdfile” but in the grand scheme of things i’m just saying i question his ability to be able to truly communicate and understand teenagers when he can’t communicate with one that’s done nothing wrong to him but annoys him anyways pre crash. and his great big solution to her behavior was… asking her to be in a secret relationship? like if that’s his solution…… well. forgive me if i at least think he shouldn’t be teaching and if i lowkey want a fictional character to die in a show where fictional characters die

i say “wasn’t the best” because in the context of misty’s pov, she thought she was doing what the both of them wanted even if it’s not what ben wanted (which if she thought it’s what ben wanted, she doesn’t see it as rape or breaking the law, especially with him engaging a relationship with her despite drugging him in her mind that must be fine, right? (even if it’s not)). but ben never gave any real indication against it, had in fact told her to ignore all signs of it because of their secret relationship. and this is all at 16, and the other party is…. i don’t have to say it

reading over this again i’m beginning to think this fandom isn’t for you…. like femcels…. okay….. and like i think there’s plenty of reasons to hate a lot of the men and especially in a women’s show, especially when you see most of the negative sides and less backstory and good moments from them. but i think travis is a great character, doesn’t mean anyone has to like him. same for any character of this show regardless of gender. it is just a show and it’s up to us what makes a character enjoyable or not. you can’t change everyone’s mind on this with your anger, even if you don’t like that. you ignore a lot of my explanation of misty’s actions in favor of your interpretation of her as ‘ben’s villain’, and you’re not obligated to but if you wanna debate about misty, you should probably try seeing her as a complex character….

i’m not replying to this anymore to keep my peace and because of my clear boundary to stop rbing MY post with discourse i don’t wanna see. MAKE YOUR OWN POST IF YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT IT. THAT’S LITERALLY ALL I’M ASKING.

but like i hope things get better for you whatever’s happening in your life. like get to the root of your problem on a session with your therapist or something. good luck

“omg poor coach ben someone save him from misty” i hope he meets his demise at her hands actually

[nmhdreamscape]

persistence is key ✧ l.mk (valentine's day series)

pairing | non-idol!mark x fem!reader

content | friends to ???, sorta angsty, fluff-ish, reader is insecure

word count | 804

request | mark + 15

notes | i don't know how i feel about this one, sorry if it's a little disjointed my brain is still set to academic writing mode 🫠

as you sat in the overly-decorated café you have chosen for the day, one thing was clear to you, you were not in the mood for valentine’s day this year. sure, you had been single during valentine’s day before, but this year was a little different. a little over a month ago you had been dumped, almost two years of your life down the drain. it had been a long time coming, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

cue mark and his goofy smile and unrelenting charm. you had met him through a friend toward the end of your relationship, mark always offering to be the one to listen to you talk about your relationship problems. you probably should have questioned his intent behind listening to you complain about your now ex-boyfriend. but that was far from the forefront of your mind when the break-up finally came, thoughts consumed with sadness and ice cream more than anything. 

now that you were single, it had become crystal clear where mark’s willingness to listen to you had come from. a crush, on you. you don’t know how you hadn’t noticed it before, but you were sure as hell anyone from a mile away could see it now. occasional possibly flirtatious comments had turned into blatant fawning. him sometimes picking you up a coffee when you met up had turned into a barrage of gifts you were struggling to keep track of. you just couldn’t take it all seriously, writing it off as a fleeting infatuation, not something serious.

he was persistent, you would give him that. but you just weren’t ready to go diving back into another relationship. and you had made that clear to mark when you had finally picked up on the shameless signals he was sending your way, expecting all the seriousness to drive him away. instead he would brush it off with a joke, still seeming to pop up at the most random of times, a silly pick-up line ready to use on you.

you just couldn’t wrap your head around why he was still sticking around when a romantic relationship was off the table. how had he not become disinterested? he’s extremely good-looking with a personality that would make any girl swoon, he could have any girl he wanted. and yet time after time he came back to you. 

which is why, even as he approached you with an egregious looking bouquet and that goofy smile he always seemed to wear around you on his face, you couldn’t seem to find it in you to be mad at him.

“12 roses? on valentine’s day? could you get any more cliché?” you mocked, putting down the book you head been reading to accept mark’s gift. he watched as you looked over the flowers, a small smile forming on your lips. he went ahead and sat down in the seat across from you.

“don’t act like that isn’t a romance novel you’re holding.” mark teased back, snatching the book from where you had put it down on the table to have a look. a feeling of guilt began to settle in your stomach. he should be doing all this for someone else, someone who’s emotionally available, someone who actually deserves it. 

“look mark, the flirting and the gifts and everything are super sweet and all, but that doesn’t change the fact i’m just not ready to be in a relationship right now.” you reiterated, the feeling over guilt worsening as your eyes shifted to all the happy couples around you. and yet despite this, mark’s smile never faltered, still looking at you as lovingly as he always did. he reached over to grab your hands to calm your nerves, knowing you only fidgeted with them when you were really nervous. 

“i know that. but i will never stop fighting for you. i’m not giving up on us. you’re worth waiting for.” it was like he was peering directly into your soul when uttering those words, fingers interlacing with yours. you had discussed this before, but he had always seemed to take the joking, flirty way out. this instead was genuine, reassuring, a side of him you hadn’t seen yet. it was as though he could hear the doubts swirling around in your head and knew just how to quell them. 

the charming, flirty mark was someone you could have seen yourself liking. this mark however, that was someone you could see yourself falling in love with, and you were starting to become a little more okay with the idea of that.

“keep talking like that, and maybe your wait will end sooner rather than later.” you smiled, finally meeting his gaze. his eyes widened at this, ears turning red at your suggestion. maybe valentine’s day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

valentine's gift masterlist

[charles-smith-pillow-princess]

Part 2 of @noshirdalal's answer to what Charles wishes he'd said to Arthur on their last ride together (requested by me [@rockscanfly] for @kaphzzz's birthday). Part 1 can be found here.

Yeah, I think this goes for Arthur as well, maybe. But for Charles I definitely think his love language is service. And so in the ‘Charthur’ realm of things when he says ‘Always’, that is, uh…In ‘Princess Bride’ it's ‘as you wish’, right? So its as close to ‘I love you’ as he’s ever gonna get.

Transcript:

I think Charles might ask if there are things that Arthur needs done that he may not have the time or the strength to do. And if there any of those obligations that Charles could take up for him. I think Charles would take the responsibility of being steward to his friend’s last wishes very, very seriously.

 [Noshir is quiet for a while] 

I think long parts of that ride would not be spoken, you know. Maybe just long periods of time where they’re riding closer together than you normally would. Just tryin’ to breathe in the moment, enjoy each other’s company. A brief moment of peace, even if they know that they’re goin’ off to do some heavy lifting. 

Charles—we all know Charles isn’t a talker, he’s a doer. And I think if he didn’t—[talking to Nala] out—I think if he didn’t…oh, maybe didn’t have fears is the wrong way to put it. If he had the courage to do so he may have even given him, like Charles may have even given Arthur, like, his necklace or the feather he wears. Like, things that Charles keeps with him. 

Charles isn’t necessarily superstitious so to speak, but he definitely believes in the power of totems. And I can see him giving a totem to Arthur to wear as a form of protection and also just as a sign of his affection. 

But doing so comes at a risk, right. Its becoming clear that there are some people in that camp that are not, that are not friends. And I think revealing any kind of relationship or care for another person in camp is also a vulnerability. And I think that's something that Charles would be heightendly aware of. And then there’s the completely other side of it which is you know, in that age, like, two men being affectionate, two men being in love—not something that you really talked about and certainly didn’t publicly express. And if Arthur chose to wear a totem from Charles openly I think there’d be a lot of talking in camp. So my guess would be that Charles would—

[loud bang as Nala knocks into something] Nala are you okay? Was that your head or your tail? Come here, out!

So my guess is that—I think that would be a sign of affection that Charles would love to do. And he wouldn’t tell Arthur like, how to be careful about it, or what not, because Arthur’s not stupid. I think he would give that totem to Arthur openly without any conditions. That’s how he’d show how much he cares for him. Trusting that Arthur’s care for him would mean that he’d be careful with how he wore or carried anything that Charles had given him. That he’d kind of make sure that in doing so he didn’t open either of them up to harm. 

That’d be a lot off—I think there’d be a lot of unspoken, unspoken gestures and just. You know, they’re on a long ride and Charles would have breakfast ready when Arthur woke up. Arthur would like lay out his bedroll and stuff and, you know, go to the river to wash up or whatever and come back to find that Charles had, like, pushed up his bedroll against something comfortable using like, Charles’ saddle as something that would support him but would be comfortable so that Arthur could sleep with his head and chest a little bit elevated so that he wouldn’t coughing so much at night. 

Like, little things that um—and you know Arthur probably wouldn’t say anything. At most he’d just share a look with him, and yeah. I think it would be a lot more about the things Charles would do. Overt signs of care that I think in his normally more careful state of being that he just wouldn’t dare to do. And I think, I think those things would mean the world to Arthur. And I think as, I think it would actually make Charles really nervous to do some of those things. And you know, like, Arthur being gracious and caring I think in his way would know not to rib Charles about it or put him on the spot. And that would give Charles the courage to, to do more. 

Yeah, I think this goes for Arthur as well, maybe. But for Charles I definitely think his love language is service. And so in the ‘Charthur’ realm of things when he says ‘Always’, that is, uh…In ‘Princess Bride’ it's ‘as you wish’, right? So its as close to ‘I love you’ as he’s ever gonna get.