#the answer to that is of course that yesterday i was looking at pictures of baby spiders on instagram and one of them was bright yellow

[biblicalhorror]

Had a dream last night that I got bit by a yellow garden spider and I was so worried I was gonna die but then I woke up and googled it and it turns out they have paralyzing venom but it's not harmful to humans. so today I will be dressing in yellow to honor the dream spider I think

[nicka-nell]

How they act when they have a crush on you

Pairing: Atsumu x, Suna x, Kuroo x, Ushijima x, Daichi x, Hinata x, Iwaizumi x, Oikawa x reader

Warning: fluff, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 (end)

A total bully. Constantly in teasing mode.

Whether it’s in class and he throws little paper balls at your head, pulls your hair while you’re tying your shoes in the gym, or “borrows” your homework to copy it and give you your notebook back with a scrabbly drawing next to your exercises.

Atsumu takes every free opportunity to pick on you, thinking that you take it as a form of pleasant affection.

You’re chatting with some friends in sports class when you get hit in the back of the head with a ball. It wasn’t a powerful throw. In fact, you barely felt it, but you know immediately who the ball came from when you turn around with a grim expression and see the wide-grinning blond Miya brother running towards you. “Sorry sweetheart. But ya were standing in my throwing lane.” he grins and picks up the ball. Oh, how you’d love to hit him in the face with the ball.

After school you just want to go home, the umbrella is already open as it is pouring like hell, when you feel two strong hands snatching the umbrella from your hands. “Hey sweetheart, I’m sure ya won’t have a problem if I borrow the umbrella, will ya?” Atsumu smirks at you again, already holding the umbrella in his hands so that he doesn’t get wet. You’re next to him, but half your body still gets wet as you try to take the umbrella away from him. “Hey, I’m a damn superb athlete. Can’t risk it to get sick,” he complains, putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you towards him so that you don’t get completely wet. You walk home together for quite a while until Atsumu leads in the opposite direction to his own home. With your umbrella, of course. You can prepare yourself to arrive home soaked and chilled. Awesome.

Atsumu would never think of telling you that he has a crush on you. He assumes that you already know this and that you also have feelings for him, but are too shy to tell him.

When a guy invited you out for ice cream and you agreed, Atsumu complained to Osamu. Osamu first had to make it clear to him that you two are definitely not a couple and that you certainly don’t assume that he has feelings for you, because Atsumu is also just an asshole towards you.

Atsumu interrupts you sulking while you’re eating ice cream with the guy, completely ignores this dude and tells you that you shouldn’t eat ice cream with other guys because he likes you and it annoys him when you do things with other guys who aren’t him.

Suna is probably more of a secret, very laid-back admirer who takes things rather slowly.

He doesn’t behave any differently towards you in everyday life. That’s why it’s not obvious to outsiders that he has feelings for you. Even for you.

You’re in the same circle of friends. He’s not particularly jealous when you talk to other men. Possibly also because he knows exactly what he has to offer and is convinced of himself to a healthy degree.

But after a while, you notice that he’s more interested in you. He always likes your pictures on social media. Sometimes he comments on them with emojis. A fiery heart, or a smiley looking mischievously to the side, or even a smiley with heart eyes. Sometimes he also speaks to you directly about your pictures.

Rarely does he tease you.

“Saw your picture yesterday. Looked good,” he says calmly, his legs up against the wall as he lies on his back on the bed, his head hanging off the edge of it as he looks at his phone in his hands. You’re sitting on the floor with your back against his bed, still finishing up a few things for your group work for school, when you look sideways at him. “Thank you, that was with Tsumu. We played CoD,” you answer him. “A game date?” he replies with an almost arrogant look, still scanning you from his casual position as you shake your head and roll your eyes. Suna wouldn’t admit it, but deep down, he’s glad you denied his question.

Your free classes are for learning. But sometimes you use them to just relax, chat or do nothing. While one or two of you are studying in the school's common room, you approach Suna, who is sitting on a bench with Atsumu and Osamu. Both boys are looking at Suna’s phone, who’s playing a game, when you approach him and ask curiously what he’s doing. All three boys look at you before Suna grabs your hand and casually pulls you onto his lap while resting his head on your shoulder. His hands are around your waist while his phone is in his hands in front of you. “It’s a new mobile game that came out. It’s based on a webtoon,” he answers, still focused on his phone.

Suna would probably confess his feelings to you first. However, his confession is rather spontaneous.

For example, in a store when you buy some fruit sticks on the way back home and he also pays for your stick. Outside, you tell him that he didn’t have to do that and that you can pay for it yourself, but out of the blue, he just tells you that he did it because he likes you. “So what does it matter? I did it because I like you. So bad?”

Like Atsumu, Kuroo is someone who would tease you to get your attention. But not in that childish way with paper balls in your hair.

But at the same time, Kuroo would also help you and is very attentive.

In sports class, you are currently learning the basics of basketball - how to dribble, make a lay-up and so on - before your sports teacher tells you to practice on your own for the next 30 minutes. Kuroo grins at you and throws you the ball. “Do you think you can beat me in a one-on-one?” he smirks, knowing full well that you can’t. Nevertheless, you accept his challenge, start to play and quickly lose the ball. “You need to be less stiff. Try to move with the ball. And... try to keep the ball at about waist height when you dribble,” Kuroo says as he dribbles past you to make a smooth 3-pointer. 

You’re sitting on a bench in the shadows during your break. It’s a hot summer day and you just want to get somewhere where there’s air conditioning. “You should drink more. It’s pretty hot today and you’re not an oryx antelope that can go without water for long,” says Kuroo, who suddenly stands next to you at the bench and holds out a small bottle of water.

He always acts so tough around others, but he cares about the people who are important to him.

Would he tell you that he has feelings for you? Probably not, but at some point you would notice it yourself and ask him casually. 

If you asked him about it, he’d start off by rambling and beating around the bush, but then eventually admit to having feelings for you.

Ushijima would probably behave the same way towards you as he usually does. At least that’s what he thinks.

But you can actually see him looking in your direction from time to time and subconsciously observing you.

He also subconsciously thinks of you, asking Tendou, for example, whether he could imagine that you might also like certain things.

In class, you are all already in the classroom waiting for the teacher, while you talk to Semi about the new shop next to the school and Tendou tries to tell Ushijima about the latest manga he has read. Tendou quickly realizes that Ushijima isn’t paying any attention to him, but that his gaze is instead wandering toward you and Semi. “Wakatoshi? Were you even listening to me?” Ushijima barely visibly flinches, noticing that his thoughts were somewhere else when he looks over at Tendou again. “Can you lend me the magazine? They always have such interesting promotions on the last page,” he says, completely forgotten that his attention was still on you earlier. Unlike Tendou, who purses his lips and narrows his eyes.

“Uhhh, tell me, did you watch the new K-Drama series? The one with the lawyers and the forensic scientist? Mmmh, the lawyer’s secretary is sooo cute!” Tendou chants as he walks with Ushijima towards the gym for training. “No. Do you think Y/n would like the series? She likes watching these things, doesn’t she?” Ushijima asks dryly, not realizing that he’s only thinking about you again. “Mmm, I don’t know, maybe you two should watch the series,” Tendou replies, hoping to finally get a little more out of Ushijima, but he doesn’t respond to his statement anymore.

It would take so long for Ushijima to realize that he has feelings for you. Whether he finds out on his own, because he realizes that this rapid heartbeat is not because of his “suddenly worsening condition”, or because Tendou gives him a few clues to think about his feelings for you.

However, Ushijima would tell you as soon as he recognized it for himself. But not with a bouquet of flowers and a romantic dinner.

No, he would simply ask you at the next opportunity, if you were interested in him, because he is pretty sure that his interest in you goes beyond friendship. Not caring if you were alone or around friends during his confession.

Sawamura is a little gentleman. He would show his kind of affection through small things. The typical “act of kindness”.

Whether it’s opening the door, holding your school bag while you put on your jacket, or simply walking home together, even if it means a ten-minute diversions for him.

“Ah damn...” you curse quietly as you sit in your seat in the classroom and realise that you’ve forgotten your pencil case at home. “Dai-“ you’re turning around to ask Sawamura if he can lend you a pencil only to see him holding one out to you already, with a slight smile on his face. “Thank you.” You whisper quietly and turn back to the front.

You’re on your way home after a pretty exhausting day at school. All of you stayed a little longer in the school library today to study for your final exams. So it’s already dark when you go home and you’re upset about not bringing a jacket. “Here. Next time you should remember to pack something warm. You never know when it might rain and the temperature could drop,” Sawamura says calmly, holding out the jacket he wears for volleyball training. He himself is still wearing his school uniform jacket. After all, he doesn’t want to catch a cold. You gratefully accept the sports jacket and put it over your shoulders. Sawamura wouldn’t admit it, but he wouldn’t mind if you forgot your jacket next time as well, and wore his instead, because seeing you in his way too big jacket somehow makes his heart beat faster.

Sawamura would think long and hard about whether to confess his feelings to you, because he wouldn’t want to ruin the friendship between you. But in the end, he would be the one to confess his feelings to you first, in the hope that you would return them.

Unlike Ushijima, however, he would do it at a moment that suits him. For example, when the two of you are alone, on the way home together, in a quiet and laid-back environment and a relaxed atmosphere.

Hinata is so clumsy and although he tries to hide his feelings a little bit and keep them under control, even a blind man would understand how much he has a crush on you.

As soon as you enter the room, he gets all nervous and his vocabulary suddenly shrinks so much that it feels like it only consists of 30 words.

Even if Hinata appeared nervous towards you, he would never be someone who would tease you or have a cheeky remark on his lips. Nor would he ignore you. He would also be the cheerful and friendly whirlwind towards you, just a little awkward. He would try to support you, even if it was just carrying the bench in the gym together with you.

“H-hi,” Hinata stutters and turns away, glowing red in the face, as you smile at him and greet him too. “I’ve brought water for myself,” he says with a smile and holds out a water bottle to you. You give him an irritated look, but then giggle. “For you? Yes, that’s nice, but why are you giving it to me?” you ask and notice Hinata blushing again. He’s probably embarrassed right now. But you think it’s cute. “Eh, I mean for you. You. I’ve got my bottle here! See? It’s even full!” he says and reaches for the bottle in the side of his bag, wanting to shake it to show you that it’s full. But instead, he presses down on the bottle and splashes the water on his face. You giggle, but reach into your own gym bag and pull out a small towel to put on Hinata’s wet head so he can dry off. A gesture that is probably too much for his nerves right now.

Tired after his hard and long volleyball training with Kageyama, Hinata is just about to get on his bike and ride home when he sees you sitting at the bus stop in the dark. A little confused, he asks you what you are still doing here at this time of night when you tell him that you missed your bus."Then come on, I’ll drive you home!" he says with a cheerful smile and you don’t even have the chance to say no. Because you’re already sitting on the front of his handlebars while he pedals his bike and takes you home. He doesn’t seem to care that you live in the opposite direction to him and that it will take him even longer to get home, thanks to you. “Hold on tight, the Shouyou taxi is fast as lightning,” he says with a grin and drives you home.

With Hinata, it’s a fifty-fifty chance whether he confesses his feelings to you or not. Either he confesses them to you, but then because he babbles and the words just fall out of him with nervousness, or you tell him at some point that you have feelings for him.

If you are the one who confesses his feelings first, you can literally watch a fuse burn out in his head and how he is completely overwhelmed until he realizes what you have just told him.

Iwaizumi is similar to Sawamura. He would also shine through his act of kindness. Even if he would try to hide it coolly.

However, Iwaizumi also has a protective and slightly jealous side, especially when Oikawa gets the idea to flirt with you. He doesn’t like it when you feel uncomfortable or when other guys get too close to you.

“You shouldn’t carry such heavy things. You’ll damage your back,” Iwaizumi grumbles, before taking the bag with all the water bottles for the volleyball team from you and hanging it over his shoulder. “Hajime... I’m not five anymore... I can carry the bag by myself.” You answer him with a sigh. He’s a bit like your mum... far too caring. The only thing missing now is that he shouts after you in the morning to always bring a jacket so that you don’t freeze in the summer when it’s thirty degrees… “Never mind, I’ll carry the bag now...” he replies casually and turns his head away from you, but the tips of his reddish ears betray his coolness.

“Uuuhh my favorite manager is back” grins Oikawa, who runs up to you and hugs you as if you were best friends, but quickly lets go of you when he is hit in the back of the head with a ball. “Hey Shittykawa, leave her alone. We’re here to train, not to flirt with women. Especially not with our manager, you idiot!” Iwaizumi yells annoyed and approaches you both, while Oikawa tries to hide behind you. “Not my face, not my face!” Oikawa begs from behind you, leaning his head against your back. Iwaizumi tries to pull him away from you as the coach calls everyone together and demands their attention.

Iwaizumi would definitely be the first to tell you that he has feelings for you. But also alone, not in front of all your friends.

He would pull you aside, casually ask if you had a moment and just before he confessed his feelings to you. His tough determination would leave him and he would scratch the back of his neck until he got the words out almost sulkily, not looking you in the eye at first, before repeating his words with more determination, this time looking at you.

Oikawa would try to win your attention with every second.

Whether it’s in class because he offers to answer difficult questions and flaunts the answer to make himself look smart and strong in front of you, or whether it’s in training when he scores 5 points only with his serves.

Even your teacher doesn’t call you by name as often as Oikawa does when he wants your attention.

He also doesn’t like it when he sees you with other guys. He always pushes his way in between your conversations and tries to be close to you.

“Oh hey, Y/n-chan, what are you talking about right now?” he asks with feigned curiosity, his arms draped over your shoulders as he stares darkly into the eyes of the young guy in front of you. “Oh eh, we were talking about the new movie that airs tomorrow,” you reply, looking back over your shoulder at Oikawa, who suddenly looks at you with a smile, the dark expression completely gone. “A movie? Shall we go together?” He’s not really in the mood for the cinema, but if it means this guy leaves and Oikawa can spend more time with you, it’s a win-win.

Oikawa walks out of the changing room with a big grin on his face. Freshly showered and in everyday clothes after his team won the game against a neighboring team. “Did you see how many points I scored in that game? It’s amazing, isn’t it?” he asks, totally full of himself, as he puts his arm over your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. “Yes... you really scored a lot of points. But Hajime was also really-“, ”Iwa-chan could only score so many points because I’m the best setter. Right? You saw that, didn’t you? How I pass the ball into Iwa-chan’s hand?" he interrupts you, almost as if it annoys him that you were about to praise his best friend. With a sigh, you just chuckle. “Mhh yes, that’s right. You’re really great.” you answer him and watch as his eyes sparkle even brighter and he happily presses you against his chest. “I knew you only had eyes for me, little birdy.”

Since Oikawa assumes that every woman likes him anyway, he also expects you to like him. Would he tell you that he has feelings for you? Maybe.

The fact that you two are always doing so much together and that he’s like a clingy puppy somehow blurs the line between friendship and relationship.

At some point, when a guy had asked for your number, Oikawa had then shouted loudly that the guy should leave his girlfriend alone. You looked at him in confusion and there was a brief, awkward silence until you asked him if by any chance he had feelings for you.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Jaehyun ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Jaehyun x f!famous!reader

summary: you and Jaehyun are paired up for an interview. You should know what texting your boyfriend is like, right?

(cw: f!reader, famous!reader)

"Hi," Jaehyun greets the camera, "this is the perfect opportunity to catch up on some music." He settles into the plush pink chair while he fits the headphones over his ears.

His music begins to play while you enter the set and greet the camera which prevents him from hearing who his mystery partner might be. You pop your earbuds in and explain your screen name, "I chose Cupid because I like to set my friends up and help them in their relationships."

The camera cuts to Jaehyun who stares blankly at the camera, "I choose Valentine, because I was born on Valentine's day."

You settle into the chair and make yourself comfortable while your partner for the video begins messaging you. Whoever it is is very proper, uses all the right punctuation and is straightforward. Your eyes widen at the camera, speaking through the music playing through your earbuds, "is this an old man? Am I texting someone's grandpa?"

The staff bursts out laughing and you decide to text your exact question. Jaehyun's eyes widen and he can feel his ears heat in embarrassment beneath the head phones. He texts back with a slight pout on his face, "No, I'm not a grandpa."

You text back and forth for a while, talking about your hobbies, your MBTI, and just trying to make small talk. When you make a joke he doesn't respond with any laughs or emojis, when you try to make more conversation, he responds with short answers. You lean back in your chair, with a huff, "this person is not very fun. It has to be an old man. He doesn’t get any of my jokes!”

The staff prompts you both to send a picture of your home screens. You had recently updated it knowing that you were doing the interview and you and Jaehyun liked to keep your relationship private. Yes, it was known and public, but that didn't mean you were both open to sharing every little aspect, or really any details. Maybe one day you would both be open to sharing everything, but that day was not today.

You quickly take a screenshot of your screen which happens to be a couple folders of your apps and a widget of some picture you had found on Pinterest against the background of some flowers outside your favorite cafe.

Jaehyun perks up a little bit, "I think this looks familiar. I recognize the chairs and words on the wall, even though I can't really see it. Maybe it's one of the members?"

You study the picture sent to you with your brows furrowed as you zoom in and study the apps and the picture, "this looks so familiar to me. It looks like a restaurant in Jeju I was at a few weeks ago, I could be wrong. Let me ask."

The staff struggles to muffle their laughs at yours and Jaehyun's joint confusion. Of course, the pictures looked familiar to each of you, you were together, and had been to these places together.

You continue to text back and forth for a while, finally getting somewhere when he starts to show a little more personality and send some memes in response to your texts. He seemed to be a pretty funny guy, ultimately making you decide it was not an old man you were texting, just someone more proper and maybe old-er.

When it comes time to have you both send your recent food orders, Jaehyun pouts and furrows his brows as he studies the recent orders you'd sent him. There were 3 recent orders, 2 were for 2 people, and the last one was for a larger group. The orders looked familiar, one order for pizza and the other for ramen. It was food he had recently eaten and as hard as he tried to remember he couldn't remember who he had eaten the food with. His schedule had been so packed lately, everything was jumbled up in his head. "It has to be one of my members," he decides out loud.

You study the screenshot sent by "Valentine" while biting your lip, one of the orders was what you had eaten yesterday. A small voice in the back of your head was telling you it was your boyfriend, but he told you he was doing talk shows and variety shows today. This wasn't considered either right? Does he really text like this and you’ve never noticed? Surely, you know what your own boyfriend texts like, right?

You both continue chatting and whoever it is makes you laugh pretty hard at some points when your partner says something stupid or sends a dumb meme. You laugh especially loud, choking on your spit when he sends you a drawing of what he thinks you look like.

You have tears in your eyes and warm cheeks as you stare at a poor drawing of what looks like a boy, freckles, huge eyes, big smile. Your eyes dart from the screen of your phone to the lens of the camera, “wh- he thinks I’m a boy? This doesn’t even look like a person who actually exists!”

Jaehyun on his own side bursts out laughing after zooming in and looking at every detail of the picture, “there are wrinkles on this drawings face. And it’s bald. He thinks I’m an old man, so weird.”

As the time winds to an end you look at the staff behind the camera, somewhat shocked and saddened by the end. "Time flew by!" you scrunch up your face as you think, "I don't think I have a really good read on who it is. I think it's a man that's older than me and probably someone in the music industry since he related to so much. Maybe he's a dancer or producer of some kind."

On the other side Jaehyun is set on who he thinks it is, "it's one of my members, I know it. I think it's Jungwoo or Haechan."

You both stand and turn to face your partners. Upon catching sight of Jaehyun, you immediately scream and run behind the set laughing while screaming, "you told me you had variety shows today! Go home!"

Jaehyun bursts out laughing, hunched over as his cheeks flush, "you didn't tell me either! Get back here!"

Your voice comes out loudly paired with your surprised and embarrassed laughter, "No! I'm so humilated!"

The staff manages to get you both together for the ending conversation. The cameras start filming and you smack Jaehyun's forearm lightly, "you are a horrible texter."

"What did I even say?" He laughs in shock.

"I never realized how boring you are through words, you text like an old man."

Jaehyun answers the staff as they ask how you both possible couldn't pick up on each other through the texts. Jaehyun looks at the camera while he answers, his hand holding yours beneath the tall table, "I think texting is so boring and annoying. We call each other or video call. If we open our messages we use voice notes, we very rarely actually text each other.

You squeeze his hand under the table, eyeing him with a mischievous look, “who did you think I was? You thought I was a boy, who did you have in mind?”

Jaehyun rubs his free hand over his face, already regretting his guess, “before I tell you, you have to understand my thinking. Jeno and Chenle did one of these interviews together so I just figured it could be another member. I thought you were Jungwoo or Haechan.”

You guffaw, a shocked laugh leaving you as you pull your phone out and pull up the drawing he had sent you, “this is what Jungwoo or Haechan look like to you?”

“I’m not an artist! Well, not that kind of artist, but I think it’s pretty good. I even added teeth in the smile.”

“Babe, that’s creepy.”

“Who knew you were such an art critic all of a sudden?” He playfully asks with a bobble of his head.

The staff subtly tell you both to wrap it up, reminding you to take a selfie before ending the video. You catch the cues and smile at Jaehyun, “we’ve been together for a while now but I feel like I learned a lot about you today. You text like an old man, you can’t draw, and you have a horrible memory.”

“Hey! You didn’t know who I was either! The food orders didn’t give anything away?”

“We’re talking about this later,” you decide to reply as you lift your phone to take a selfie.

“Wait, lift it to this angle,” Jaehyun instructs as he gently moves your arm.

“Wow, so bossy,” you mumble jokingly as you snap the picture.

The screen goes black with the selfie of you and Jaehyun with matching bright smiles on your faces as yours and Jaehyun’s laugh transition into the ending of the video.

[iceunhie]

voicelines about you: as their lover !

featuring: imbibitor lunae, jing yuan, gepard. (+ jingliu and kafka)

notes: headcanons! some might be ooc HELP. i couldn't resist writing for hsr man… also jingliu and kafka sneak bc mmm i love morally questionable women 🤩. gn!reader. reader is not trailblazer. some fluff, some angst (?) kinda. reblogs are very much appreciated!

Imbibitor Lunae (Danheng IL)

About [Name]: They're one of the few people who's never condemned me for Danfeng's sins, nor ever tried to get me to own up to them. Their presence is very comforting to me. My lover? *coughs* Y-yes, they are.

About [Name]: Selfies Aside from March, [Name] always seems to ask me to take photos with their camera. Hm? No, I don't really mind. If it makes them feel happy, then that's enough reason for me to agree.

About [Name]: Photo Albums [Name] made an Express photo album with March yesterday. Yeah, pictures of our adventures and memories, according to them. It's in the Data Bank, so just ask me if you want to take a look at it.

Gepard Landau

About [Name]: [Name] is the most amazing individual I've met. Their determination and their will to pursue their goals to the fullest… I'm proud to call them my lover. Oh, ah… Was that too forward?

About [Name]: Lending a Hand Oftentimes, Serval asks [Name] to help her carry some things for her workshop. Although the times I get to personally help out are rare due to my duties, I still make it a point to support them by asking the Silvermane Guards to keep an eye out for them and help carry my sister's things for them if it's too heavy. Of course. They're always my top priority.

About Serval: Nagging Every time Serval stops by my post, it usually means [Name]'s run into some difficulties, which I try to help them out in. While her telling me about my lover's state is greatly appreciated, she always nags and teases me being a fool for them and… *sigh* No, it's alright, really. I'm thankful that my sister cares about [Name] and goes out of her way to talk to them for me. Still, I do hope her nagging would decrease next time.

Jing Yuan

About [Name]: Hm? [Name]? Yes, they're indeed my lover. Hehe, now that you've brought them up, I should go look for them. I'm afraid I've grown so used to the feeling of laying my head on their lap that no other pillow can suffice. Ah, what a predicament…

About [Name]: Spending Time Together While I do enjoy dozing off, [Name] makes a point to let me rest at a more appropriate place, instead of at the Seat of The Divine Foresight, buried under a mountain of paperwork. Oftentimes, I do as they say, but when I'm not and just craving their presence… Heh, now that's another matter entirely.

(BONUS! - Yanqing's Voiceline) About [Name]: Oh, [Name]? They always give me some extra allowance for buying swords, buying me sweets and food I like… Of course I won't say no to that! Sometimes, them being with me when I'm being scolded by the General for my expenses helps a lot. Probably because they're the only one the General can't say no to.

Jingliu

About [Name]: ….Do you really think you have the right to know about them? This is a warning. Try to ask again and perhaps you'll be faced with the end of my blade as my answer.

About [Name]: Soothed The whispers of the marastruck, succumbing to the Abundance… They are the only one able to calm the storm of my thoughts. For that, I am grateful for their patience and their kindness.

(BONUS 2! - Jing Yuan's Voiceline) About Name: While Master's current state is one of irreparable damage, at the very least… She has someone to hold onto while she grapples with the curse of mara. Even if I don't quite believe she's the Jingliu I knew from before, I know that her feelings for [Name] are sincere. I just hope she doesn't end up hurting them in the process.

Kafka

About [Name]: Aha, now thats a question I didn't expect to hear from you. My lover? Yes, [Name] is that to me. I very much enjoy their love and affection, you know. Even if it isn't on the script, I'd still mention them. Quite romantic of me, no?

About [Name]: Trophy They always, always chide me about me ruining my velvet coats when we finish up a script. What's wrong with a little blood? I keep most of them as trophies. There's one I'm especially fond of, too. They think it's rather embarassing that I keep the coat from the time they got injured on the job. Although the stains have long since turnt black, there's still a faint scent of iron in it. Hm? What do I mean by that? Heh, let's just say I don't take any harm coming to [Name] lightly. While they call it a reminder of their lack of caution, I'd rather call it a little show of my affection~

About [Name]: Destiny's Course Elio refused to tell me about what my future with them would be, saying that the path in that choice is quite difficult to discern, and I think it's for the best. I suppose if [Name] decided to leave the Stellaron Hunters, hm, would locking them up till they can't leave me anymore suffice….? Haha, just kidding. I wouldn't let them leave in the first place.

© 𝐌𝐇𝐈𝐈𝐄𝐄𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[outerbankies]

congrats bby, can you pls do Try to eat something." and light peck kisses,

new light: wondering why

rafe x reader

summary: fresh off of making things official, rafe is bummed to miss out on a boat day with you when he gets sick.

a/n: happy obx 4 week! lovely going back to the new light summer in this one for the prompt celly that still very much exists and i will complete if it kills me :-)

masterlist

Rafe thought that if he did his best to ignore it, it might just go away on its own.

He thought that if he pretended his throat wasn’t getting progressively sorer throughout the day, if he ignored the way his entire body was beginning to ache, if he acted oblivious when he pressed his own hand into the back of his forehead to find a steady warmth, none of it would actually amount to anything.

But he wakes up on the Fourth of July and just knows, knows he’s completely fucked — seeing you, seeing his friends, any of his other plans for the day immediately put on the shelf when he wakes up in the state he’s in.

He’d woken up to the sound of his ringtone chiming, and if the way the sunlight filtering through his curtains was any indication, he was waking much later than he normally would be.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answers, phone smushed into the side of his face, after cracking one eye open to check that it was in fact you calling. He had an inkling.

“Rafe?” you return.

“Hm?” he grunts, finding the wherewithal to roll out of bed, standing on shaky legs and making his way down the hall and to the bathroom.

“You sound sick,” you accuse.

“Yeah…” he says, voice catching on a cough that sneaks up his throat. “Yeah — um. Fuck, Wheez came home from camp with something last week. I think I caught it.”

“Rafe,” you say, and Rafe can almost see your pout through the connection. “Oh no.”

“I know, I know,” he says, checking his complexion in the mirror. He looks even worse than he feels, and he’s almost grateful he won’t be seeing you today sporting this grayish tint to his face and splotches of red around his nose and eyes. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it today.”

“No, definitely not. Fuck. I thought you were acting weird yesterday.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning forward to rest a hand on the counter. He switches the call to speaker, placing it on the counter so he can rifle through his bathroom drawers for anything that could help.

After a beat, he hears, “You wouldn’t kiss me. Not on the lips, anyway.”

Rafe feels a smile pulling at his lips, as ill as he feels. “Shit, baby. You notice that kinda stuff?”

Maybe Rafe hadn’t been ignoring the feelings as much as he thought he’d been, if withholding kisses from you is something he was doing voluntarily, even subconsciously. 

“Of course I do,” comes your reply. He can picture the sheepish look on your face right now, and the way you’d be ducking your head from his view the second you’d been caught out.

“Probably didn’t want you sick,” he says, trying to pinpoint anything weird from your date yesterday. It was nothing fancy, tacos on the beach after work, but he didn’t even consider cancelling while he was slogging through his day, and he didn’t regret it as soon as he saw you running down your parents’ driveway and to his truck.

“My hero. Is it just your throat?” you ask. 

“Hm,” he considers, blinking away thoughts of the shorts you’d been wearing under the sweatshirt he’d given you once the beach got cold, closing the drawer in his bathroom, suddenly frustrated at its emptiness. He might have to raid the girls’ bathroom and the kitchen cabinet above the microwave. “I’m gonna be real, baby. I just feel like shit. All-around.”

“Head?”

“Yep.”

“Are you warm?”

He feels the back of his neck with a clammy hand, already knowing the answer as he ambles back into his room, unsuccessful. “Very.”

“Achy, too?” you ask, and Rafe has to crack another smile at how doting you are, treating him like one of your nanny kids who caught the flu at pre-k. God, Rafe hopes he doesn’t have the flu.

“Big time. Gonna lay down,” Rafe decides, burrowing back under his covers, phone placed beside his head on his pillow. “M’sorry about today, Y/n/n.”

“Don’t be, Rafe,” you say sweetly.

It was nothing too special, just your group of friends out on Kelce’s boat for the day. But you’d made Rafe promise to make an appearance at your mom’s party before you all got too drunk, and you’d even helped him pick out an outfit for it. The navy polo he was gonna pair with his striped swim shorts hangs on the back of his closet door, mocking him.

“Did you find meds?”

“Yes,” he lies. “Think they’ll kick in when I wake back up.”

“Good. Stay hydrated, too. Lots of fluids. And try to eat something when you get up, alright?”

Rafe looks at the empty water glass on his night stand, another empty promise falling from his lips immediately. “Yeah, I can scrounge something up later.”

“Okay,” you say, sounding slightly assuaged, but still skeptical. “Are you home alone?”

Rafe feels his eyelids getting heavier at the way your tone goes soft. “Mm. Parade starting soon, probably. They took Wheez. Sarah’s at her boyfriend’s.”

“Right. Okay,” you sigh. “Well hang in there, okay? I’ll check in on you in a bit.”

“Don’t,” Rafe says. “Go have fun with everyone. If anyone gets too drunk to get you home, I’ll come. Take it easy, baby. For me.”

He makes a mental note to text Kelce as soon as he can stand to open his eyes and look at his phone again, just so he knows someone’s keeping an eye on you. He trusts all of your friends, but the sun’ll be out and he knows how you all get about day drinking. Plus, he’s got boyfriend duties now.

It’s been barely a week since he’d made it official, so his stomach still swoops when he remembers that you’re his. And not in a queasy way, from whatever malady he’s fighting today. In a way that he can’t believe it — can’t believe he landed you. That you like him, that you’re giving him a try, that you might feel even a fraction of the same way he does for you. 

Your friends don’t even know yet; today might have been the day to let them know, but not anymore.

“Don’t worry after me,” you say indignantly.

Rafe’s eyes finally flutter shut, your voice luring them closed. “I will.”

“Dork,” you giggle. “I’m hanging up now. Feel better.”

“Bye, baby,” he says, drifting off before he even hears the dial tone.

—

You already had the cute, red bathing suit you’d been planning to wear all day on when Rafe fell sick this morning. Purchased at a boutique on the mainland with him in mind last week, of course, but only bought and paid for when Gretchen and Margot had stepped out of the dressing rooms in their own new suits, assuring you you had to buy it.

You’d thrown a long sleeve and the shorts Rafe really liked on over it before getting in your Jeep, heading off to the south side of the island for one of the only restaurants in town open on the holiday.

And now you stand outside of Tanneyhill, nervous as can be, wondering if this was the right move.

Rafe did divulge that his entire family was out, so you summon the courage to lift a hand to use the door knocker. Of course, Tanneyhill had a door knocker, god — you don’t know why you didn’t notice until now. Maybe it’s because you’d always rolled up in a group, or to an open door, or filtered in through the side. But this was the first time you’d ever really—

The door creaks open, a head of pillow-messy hair hidden under a navy blue hoodie appearing in the gap.

“Y/n/n?” 

“Hi,” you say, your voice shaking.

“Baby,” Rafe sighs, pulling the door open completely. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re sick.”

“You’re supposed to be…” he begins lamely, letting you breeze past him over the threshold into his empty home, shutting the door after you. He pushes his sleeve up his arm to check his watch, and you notice a tremor. “Weren’t you guys meeting up around now? You know Top isn’t gonna wait around on the dock.”

“I know. I texted him I wasn’t coming,” you say. “All the delis up here are closed. The co-op, too. But there’s this pho place down past the marina that’s so good.”

He smiles. “I’ve heard of it.”

“I made sure to get a ton of sriracha packets — I know you like stuff really spicy,” you continue, setting the bag with the styrofoam containers on the kitchen counter while he trails behind you. “So even if you don’t like it, maybe you can—”

“I’m sure it’s great.”

You walk into his arms, slipping your hands up to rub his back. “I’m so sorry you’re sick, Rafe.”

He encloses you in a tentative embrace, his head leaning away with intent. “You brought me soup?”

He sounds disbelieving, and he looks it even more, digging into the bag. You rifle through the tote bag on your shoulder at that point, too, placing the other things you’d brought on the counter. “And some decongestants, cold and flu. I forget that literally everything closes here on holidays so it’s just what I had at home, but maybe someone at Heyward’s is—”

Rafe interrupts. “You brought meds, too? I told you I took some.”

You assess his pallor, your hand holding the side of his face. “I don’t think I believe you.”

When he sags into your hold, your thumb brushes his cheekbone. You pull him down until he bows, pecking his forehead. “Do you wanna go shower up? If you get it real hot, the steam might open your sinuses. I’ll keep the soup warm while you’re up there.”

He presses a tentative kiss into your hair, distancing himself from you to head back up the stairs. “I’ll go do that. Um, stay down here? We can hang on the couch, or whatever. Just — m’room’s a mess,” he says bashfully, one hand on the banister and another behind his neck.

When Rafe heads up, you briefly consider following defiantly a few minutes later to clear up his space and make up his bed for him — but it’s fresh, you two are fresh — it’s barely been a week. Eight days, if you were counting.

You keep good on your promise to keep the pho warm, portioning out some meds too. He’d been warm to the touch, and you’d make sure he had food in his stomach, and that he actually took something. Because you were beginning to suspect that he didn’t take care of himself at all like he promised he would on the phone.

He comes back downstairs looking maybe five times better, in a clean t-shirt and sweats, his wet hair falling over his face. 

“Better?”

“Better.” 

You eat side by side at his parents’ kitchen counter, Rafe taking breaks to lean his head on your shoulder, his hair smelling of him in a way that, until now, you hadn’t come to recognize was his shampoo. You try to hide the quirk on your lips when watch him dump two packets of hot sauce into the broth immediately, reveling in the fact that you remembered to grab extras.

When he starts pushing the noodles around aimlessly, you grasp the container gently, setting it on the counter before him. “Wanna go lay down?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching as you pack everything up, saving his leftovers in the fridge. 

You make a mental note to text him later about reheating and how long it’ll keep while you get ready to leave him be, already sad you won’t be parting with a kiss. “I’ll still be calling you later, okay?”

“You’re leaving?” he asks, one arm crossing over his body so he can scratch at his bicep.

“Yeah,” you say, confused. “You didn’t want me to see your room.”

He laughs, but it catches on a cough and your heart breaks at his pink and watery eyes. He clears his throat. “No… but we could — well. If you don’t wanna leave, we could… the couch, maybe? I don’t... you don't have to leave.”

Which is how you find yourself the most relaxed you’ve ever been in Tanneyhill, a blanket over your legs with your boyfriend’s head in your lap, some action movie droning quietly in the background.

“You can turn on one of your shows,” he says sleepily, rolling over until his lips are brushing the strip of skin between your shirt and the top of your shorts. “The housewives or whatever.”

His arm circles around your back, pulling you in, and you can’t understand how he still ties your stomach up in excited knots with a raw, pink nose and the smell of vaporub coming from his chest.

“This is fine,” you say, nodding to a buddy comedy with a title you don’t know, your eyes following a plot you don’t care about.

“I’m kinda invested in that one you had on the other night,” he confesses, cracking an eye open for you. He suddenly grins mischievously, and you feel the hand that’d wrapped around you suddenly digging into your side. “What’s this?”

His finger traces the strap of your bikini bottoms, and your skin flushes at the touch. “You got sick and now you’ll never know.”

“No,” he groans dramatically. “Please.”

You play ball, retracting your hand from his hair to lift the edge of your shirt obligingly. Rafe groans again, his face buried into your lap even further. “Fuck. I’m so mad we’re missing today.”

“I’m kinda not,” you admit. “I hate that you’re sick, but I was nervous about… I haven’t seen anyone since last week.”

“You tell any of them?” he asks softly, his head tipping back for your answer.

“Not yet. You?” you ask even softer. 

“Not a soul,” he says. “I just… It’s nice having it just us for a bit.” 

“I’m not ready for all the shit Kelce is gonna tell you about high school. And the girls. Probably Top, too,” you sigh, feeling your cheeks warm while you tip your head back to the couch.

“We’ll at least be even,” he promises. “Or I’ll be worse. Guaranteed.”

You aren’t immune to his insinuation, rushing to further the subject. “I was thinking maybe today.”

“Today,” he agrees. “I definitely wanted to do today. And I don’t think I would’ve been able to keep my hands off you, anyway.” 

“Made yourself sick over it,” you tease.

“That was probably just from asking you out,” he teases back, his hand squeezing your knee where he’s back to facing the TV.

You can’t find it in yourself to be worried about his family coming home and finding the two of you, or about anything, really, as Rafe dozes in your lap, his grip never faltering or becoming any less warm and captivating. Not even when your phone buzzes with a FaceTime from Margot, and you opt to answer it while keeping the volume as low as possible. 

“Where the fuck are you?” she demands. “There’s coasties everywhere.”

“I’m at Rafe’s,” you answer boldly.

She lowers her sunglasses through the glitchy connection, the ocean behind her a sea of pixelated blues and whites. “Why are you at Rafe’s?”

“He’s sick,” you say simply.

“That’s girlfriend behavior, Y/n,” she claims.

You say nothing, just giving an innocent shrug before you bid her goodbye, wondering how long it’ll be before she blows your phone up. 

[azriels-human]

In Your Dreams: II ☁️🌙☁️

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Heyy😖 sorry for the long delay. Lowkey, I don’t like using Y/n but since it’s more Azriel’s POV we just have to put up with it. God gives his strongest battles to his strongest warriors😔✊🏽

Summary: Az isn’t very fond of the newest member of the Night Court so much so that you even plague his dreams.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI.

Part I

Azriel could help but let his mind wander to that dream. To the way you looked at his mercy and how his name sounded coming from your lips. Those lush rosy lips.

THUMP

Azriel hits the ground forcefully, his sword flying out of sight.

Cassian rolls his eyes and extends a hand to his brother. “What the hells is it? You’re distracted this morning.”

Azriel takes his hand, standing to his feet. “Nothing.”

Cassian tugs Azriel’s hand and gives him a knowing look. “Is it the stuff with Elain?”

Azriel’s brow pinches in confusion for just a second before he answers. “No. There is no ‘stuff’ with Elain.”

As Rhysand had made it very clear to him.

For a moment he’d forgotten of the incident he shared with the Archeron sister. Of course, he has thought of her many times since but she is not what plagued his thoughts this morning.

It was you, quite the opposite, in fact.

While Elain is the picture of innocent loveliness and blooming roses, you are the essence of grim allure. The thorns of those roses.

Shit, he even forgot that he promised to take Elain to her favorite bakery as soon as he returned from his mission. He’d been so focused on not focusing on you that he hadn’t even tried to find her at all yesterday.

Another thing he adds to the mental list of reasons not to like you.

“Then what is it?” Cassian asks, readying his blade for more action while Azriel picks up his own.

Though his distaste for you is apparent, he hasn’t spoken of you to anyone but Rhysand. The only reason he ever does is to get him to do something about you. What that something is, he’s not too sure but anything works at this point.

“I have to take…Y/N with me on a mission tomorrow.” Your name feels so foreign on his tongue, chilling, as if speaking it would summon you.

Cassian shrugs, gesturing for Azriel to strike him first in their new round of training and he does. The two begin to spar once more.

“What of it?” Cassian asks dodging Azriel’s attacks.

“Only that I cannot stand the sight or smell or idea of her.” Az grunts.

“Yeah, I kind of got that.” Cass chuckles between blows. “Remind me why? is it because she out sneaked you?”

“She did not out sneak me!” Azriel growls. “Something is just off about her.”

“Like?”

“Like how bleak and foreboding she is.”

Cassian laughs, “I can’t argue with that. She’s definitely intimidating at first.”

“At first?”

“Well once I got to know her, I discovered that’s she’s actually pretty interesting.” Cassian swings his sword.

“Got to know her?” Cassians attack misses.

“Yeah. Shes kind of like you in that sense.”

Az staggers back, not from Cassian’s attacks but from utter shock. The accusation of being anything like you. “What do you mean by that? I’m not like her at all.”

“Just that some people aren’t as scary as they look.” Cassian doesn’t bother to strike Azriel in his baffled state.

Azriel really didn’t know what to make of it all, couldn’t picture you smiling and chatting away with Cassian. You’re all but a stonewall whenever he’s seen you. But Cassian wouldn’t just lie for the fun of it. Unless…

“Did Rhysand tell you to say that?” Azriel runs his hands through his hair, wiping the sweat that drips from his curled tips.

He doesn’t wait for an answer before returning his training sword to its proper area, Cassian in suit.

“Why would he?”

“Well he seems quite adamant on me getting along with her.”

“Maybe you should. She’s-”

“I get it Cass. Shes your new best friend but that certainly does not mean she has to be mine.” Azriel rolls his eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a promise to keep.”

.☁️🌙☁️.

Thankfully, Elain wasn’t upset with Azriel’s forgetfulness, allowing him to escort her to her favorite bakery and even stopping by a jewelry shop for some new earrings.

“What do you think of these?” Elain asks pointing to a pair of small pearls.

Azriel leans forward, inspecting the timeless jewelry. “They’re very nice.”

Elain nods at the shop owner who adds them to the small pile of jewels she’s picked. “Maybe one more pair?” Elain sheepishly smiles.

Azriel nods. “Take your time.”

“How about you pick them?” Elain suggests. “They’re all so beautiful, I can’t choose.”

The idea makes Azriel smile at the middle Archeron sister. That she might like to wear something he chose for her.

Azriel scratched his chin examining the rows of elegant and extravagant jewelry. Gold, silver, diamonds, all kinds of jewelry that he knows she would appreciate but there is one piece that calls to him.

A unique piece for sure, nothing like he’d ever seen before. A silver pair of earrings with a stone so black it’s like looking into a void and the tiniest diamonds scattered across it like stars.

However, Elain is not who came to mind upon seeing them. It’s you.

The earrings would go flawlessly with your usual pure black attire but it’s the way they make him feel like he’s looking right at you.

His chest tightens. Daunting yet fascinating.

He hates himself for letting you distract him from Elain again. You, who could not be anymore different, should be far from his thoughts right now.

You steal his siphon, his thoughts, his dreams and he detests it. He just wants to return to the life he had before he knew of your existence.

“You seem to like those.” Elain’s tranquil voice brings Azriel out of his thoughts. “I’ll take them.”

The shop owner reaches for the unnerving jewels but Azriel stops him. “No, not those. The ones next to it.”

Azriel hadn’t even taken notice in the plain, diamond studs beside them and mentally cursed you for keeping him from finding a beautiful pair for Elain.

Elain nods and the owner rings her up.

The walk back to the house is silent. Azriel’s thoughts consisting of half trying not to replay his dream of you grinding on his cock and half wondering where the tension between he and Elain is coming from.

Did she know he was thinking of you when he saw the earrings? Was she upset that he’d chosen something so boring for her?

Whatever the reason, it’s your fault for being a parasite in his brain.

“You seem distracted lately.” Elain breaks the silence between them.

Distracted. The same thing Cassian had said this morning and what he is trying so hard not to let you do to him.

“It’s nothing. Just thinking about my assignment tomorrow.” It wasn’t a lie. You are the most troubling part of his work now too.

“Right, you’re going to the Hewn City with Y/n.”

Azriel’s eyes almost leave his skull at Elain’s comment. You are not a topic he EVER needs to speak of with Elain.

Elain giggles, “She told me about it.”

“You…talk to her?” Azriel asks incredulously. It’s one thing to hear that Cassian has spoken to her but Elain? Sweet, sunshine Elain?

Elain nods, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Azriel shakes his head. It felt like worlds colliding. World’s he didn’t want to mix at all.

It was foolish of him to believe Elain wouldn’t talk to you though. Despite her months of casting everyone out, Elain is kind hearted.

Even before the cauldron, when she was afraid of him, she still did her best to be polite.

“I just assumed she didn’t speak to anyone.”

Again, Elain laughs. “She gets along quite well with everyone.”

Another piece of shocking information. “Everyone?”

Elain nods. “I won’t lie, she’s a bit scary when she’s quiet, but one day she asked to join me while baking and I got to know her a bit.”

You approached her? Azriel didn’t think he could be anymore shocked but there he was his jaw practically on the floor.

That isn’t at all like what he imagined you to be like. With your cold and strange disposition, he couldn’t even imagine you and Elain in the same room, let alone baking together.

Now, Azriel by no means believes Elain to be a liar but the thought of you actually getting along with his family is so…bizarre. He needs to know for himself to believe it. So he set forth on his own personal mission.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Upon his departure from Elain at the House, Azriel begins the search for his first witness, Mor.

He beelines for her room, knocking on her door a bit too urgently.

She’ll tell me him the truth.

Mor opens her door, brow pinched in slight annoyance. “Want to knock a bit louder?”

“Have you spoken to Y/n?” Azriel wastes no time on formalities or her mood.

“About?” Mor shrugs.

“Anything. Anything at all.” Azriel sighs, growing impatient. He needs answers now, before he’s stuck with you for Gods know how long tomorrow.

“Uh…yes?” Mor’s irritation turning into confusion.

“And?”

She shakes her head, her confusion only furthering. “And what? I don’t know what you’re asking me, Az.”

“What do you think of her? What did you talk about?” Azriel runs a hand through his hair trying to calm his edge as he realizes how frantic he is coming off.

Mor taps her finger against her chin. “She’s great! We talk about clothes, we talk about clubs, we talk about boys.” Mor wiggles her eyebrows.

Boys? He didn’t care about that. He wants to know what she knows about you.

Yet he couldn’t help himself.

“What ‘boys’?” Azriel glances down the hallway, as if you’d appear there, staring him down as you always do. “Anyone I should be concerned about?”

Mor chuckles and rolls her eyes. “None. Unless you’re concerned with who she may share a bed with.”

Something like nausea twist in his gut. He did not need to know that. He will absolutely never need to know that.

“I am most definitely not. I mean, is there anything suspicious about her? Anything I should know?” Azriel shakes the thought from his head.

“Nope. She seems alright to me. Anymore questions that you can find out for yourself?”

Azriel resists the urge to learn every detail she knows and shakes his head, bidding her a good evening and setting off to search for the next subject to his questions. If there’s anyone that will tell him what he wants to hear, it’s Nesta.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel finds Nesta lounging in the den, a book (that she obviously is very concentrated on) in hand.

Nesta isn’t fond of being interrupted while reading but this is important and time sensitive. He needs to know who it is he’s going to be stuck with.

Azriel clears his throat, stepping into the den. Nesta continues to read.

He clears his throat again, a bit louder this time.

“I’m busy.” Her eyes remain in the book.

“What do you think of Y/n.” Azriel decides it’s might be worse to try and ease her into conversation.

To his surprise, she actually looks up. A smirk stretches across her lips as she puts her book down and crosses her arms. “Why the sudden interest? I didn’t think you liked the poor girl.”

Poor girl? Nesta thinks you’re the victim here? He’s the one you stole from.

“That doesn’t matter. Do you like her or do you not?” Azriel asks, doubt begins to fill the hope he held out for anyone else to feel what he feels.

Nesta waves him off. “If you’re not going to tell me, then I’m not going to have answers.”

Azriel’s patience is worn thin at this point. He has a feeling he knows her answer. He just wants to rip the band aid off.

“My only interest is making sure she isn’t going to stab me in my sleep when I take her with me on my assignment tomorrow.” His hands rest on his hips, awaiting Nesta’s response.

Nesta scoffs. “I doubt that. Though it seems you might be the one doing the stabbing. You look like you’re going insane.”

“I feel like I am.” Azriel slumps onto the sofa across from Nesta and burries his face into his palms.

He doesn’t know what to think and he has yet to see any of this ‘great’ personality as Mor had described you. Anytime he has been around you, you’ve always been tucked away in a corner, languishing in your own mysterious presence.

“Stop being so stubborn and talk to her. Maybe then you won’t run away like a scared child when you see her.” Nesta pokes fun at him but he couldn’t deny that he mostly feels the need to flee when you are around.

Speaking to you does not sound appealing, not only because you seem as interesting as watching paint dry, but mostly because of how you make him feel.

Being face to face with you always results in his every nerve being on fire and a gripping ache in his abdomen that won’t go away. He’s on high alert, anxious that you’ll break from your spine chilling stillness and put your cunning skills to use.

You are a source of stress that he does not know how to relieve. Even after learning that you’ve earned his family’s affection, he can’t settle the unease that you stir in him.

But he’s afraid everyone is right. Maybe it’s best for him to grow a pair and face the discomfort to try and alleviate some it at least.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel hesitantly searches for you throughout the rest of the evening and night, occasionally gathering the courage to peak into a room to see if you are there.

He has faced beasts and armies and kings yet facing you is what terrifies him?

The walk to the library felt long in the dead silent house. Not even Cassian’s snores can be heard from here and it only makes Azriel more nervous.

Since he could not find you anywhere else, the library seems to be where you hide at night.

He silently creeps into the library. The illumination of moonlight from the back of the room proves him right as he slips past the row of bookcases until he reaches the now open balcony.

There you were lying on the bench, eyes closed, hands tucked tightly to your chest.

Now he’s sure you are insane. Sleeping on a hard bench in the cold night.

Azriel stalks towards you, unsure if he should wake you or let you freeze the death. Maybe that’ll solve this whole thing.

But once again he just can’t walk away.

Your skin seems to glow in the moonlight and each strand of your hair glitters in the gentle night breeze. Peace replaces your usual stone features.

Heat pulses through his veins and his every nerve begins to vibrate with alarm just as he knew they would. Except there was something more.

It’s not only that he can’t leave but its as if once he gets close enough to smell you, to notice the details of your being and to be able to reach out and touch you, he is lost to an unseen enchantment that only draws him closer.

Azriel looks down over your sleeping form. His eyes roam over your nightgown clad figure. The hem, riding dangerously up your thigh, would do absolutely nothing to cover your center if you move half an inch.

Visions of his degenerate dream flit through his mind, the lewd things he did to you. The sound of your breathless moans and the feeling of your tight pussy contracting around his fingers as you came.

Unwelcomed desire pinches deep in his stomach. Despite his best attempt to push down the carnal feeling, all is for not when his eyes lock onto your lips.

Pink and plump and parted in your slumber, he cannot look away, can’t stop the vulgar thoughts flooding his mind. Hypnotized, his fingers twitch with the need to touch, to feel, to know.

Cauldron, he needs to know.

“Do you enjoy watching people sleep?”

Azriel jumps back as his heartbeat sky rockets. What the hells is wrong with you!?

You look up at him through your lashes. “Well?”

What is he even supposed to say? There is no way to make staring at someone while they sleep sound normal.

Azriel swallows, “I was making sure you weren’t up to anything.” Turning the tables of accusations is one way.

Your brow quirks up. “Oh? And what exactly do you think I’d be up to?”

Azriel shakes his head as if it should be obvious. “Stealing.”

“Stealing? With my eyes closed?” You scratch your chin. “Though I probably could from you.”

Lightning strikes his pride. “You could not. Even the worst of the worst get lucky from time to time.”

The corner of your tempting lips curl into a smirk and a chuckle escapes them. You laughed. He made you laugh. Not at all intentional but still the sound weaves its way into the deepest corner of his mind, engraving its melody for what he knows will be eternity.

He wants to hear it again.

“Okay. So what would I be stealing?” You sit up. Azriel doesn’t miss the way your soft thighs glide against each other as you cross your legs.

“Whatever you can get your little hands on.” Azriel sneers, already regretting letting everyone influence him to speak with you.

“Hm. Well, I can get these ‘little hands’ wrapped around just about anything. Sounds like you’ve got trouble then.” The smirk on your lips turns devious, like a cat toying with a mouse.

Your choice of words incite that thrill in him again. The same one when he retrieved his siphon. The same one he felt fucking you with his fingers in his dream.

“Say I was stealing, what would you do to me?” You blink once, twice.

Azriel couldn’t ignore the thrum of his heart. Just as you had in his dream, you feign innocence. Chin tilted down as you watch him behind long fluttering lashes. “I’d…”

You did not want to know what he’d do to you. What he had done to you.

For stealing he’d send you somewhere as dark and cold as you. For your arrogant attitude, it would involve three fingers in your soaking cunt and your ass grinding on his throbbing cock.

“Rhysand would lock you away.” Azriel keeps himself out of the scenario completely. He’ll be damned if he shows you just how much your provocative choice of words affect him.

“He already didn’t do that.” You pout. His frown must be more apparent than he thought it to be because your vacant eyes fill with a devilish amusement.

It’s blow after blow at his dignity as a spy master. Azriel’s ego was never high to begin with but your words get under his skin. “Yeah, instead he decided to give a very important job to a less than impressive thief.”

You chuckle again.

Azriel scoffs. Why are you laughing at his jabs at you? Why aren’t you as annoyed and desperate to end this conversation as he is?

“I beg to differ. I did impress the High Lord.” You lean forward just an inch. An inch that seems like a mile to Azriel. “And I think I impressed you too.”

“Impressed by a common thief from the slums of the Hewn City?” Azriel wanted to hit where it hurt, to knock you off your high horse.

“Where I’m from you’re either a thief or a whore.” You shrug, brushing your hair over your shoulder. “I chose thief.”

The persistent ache deepens within him as he recalls the noises you made in his dream. The way you begged to feel his fingers and make a mess of you. The way he had made you his whore.

“Maybe you would have been better at the latter.” Azriel steadies his breaths, unsure if he truly meant offense. He wanted to mean it that way but his crude memories begin to blur that line between hate and desire.

You stand from the bench, eyes never leaving his with their crushing weight. “You think I’d make a good whore?”

You take a step towards him only this time he did not step back. You tilt your chin up, a knowing look dances across your expression.

“More than a thief.”

“Why?” You ask.

Why not? Is what he wanted to say. How could you not when you made such tempting noises and felt so fucking good against him.

Upon his lack of response, your sultry smirk returns. “Is it my body? My face?”

Both. Your figure is one thing but your face is a whole other. Your darkened eyes stare into his soul, cheeks tinted pink from the pinch of the cold air and your pretty lips just waiting to be kissed.

Gods, you’re incredibly beautiful. Every time he sees you, he notices something new. More and more beautiful each time.

Azriel can’t help but stare, unable to say the words he wished to say. All he could focus on is how badly he wants your hand on his chest. For it to travel lower and lower until he stops you. For his all consuming dream to become a reality.

“Tell me what would make me a good whore.” You challenge.

He couldn’t think. With you standing so close he can feel the warmth of your skin through his leathers. He could touch you, the real you, only inches apart.

He could know how soft your kiss is in a split second.

His eyes flit to your lips then back to your magnetic eyes.

Suddenly you burst into laughter. Full blown laughter as you clutch your chest from the hysterics.

Azriel steps back in surprise.

“Don’t tell me you want a kiss, spy master?” Your lips curled back in a full grin, perfect teeth gleaming back at him.

A mix of humiliation and awe swirl through his every sense. Cruel splendor you are.

You chuckle once more and wink at him as you make your way out. “In your dreams.”

If only you knew. He doesn’t know if he’s furious or turned on but either way, he’ll make sure you pay for it tomorrow.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel plops down onto his bed, running his hands over his face, a deep sigh following.

What was he to do about you? That conversation went far worse than he anticipated. Instead of finding some kind of relief to his assumptions, he found that he wants to fuck you senseless. The attitude mixed with that silver tongue of yours is a lethal combination, cracking down on his hard exterior.

He only hopes you’ll stay silent so he can focus on the assignment instead of your lips.

His pants tighten at the thought of them. How your lips would look so good around him.

Azriel couldn’t help but squirm, the friction of his pants against his cock making him even harder inside them.

His hands don’t leave his face, embarrassment and desire flood his senses.

His hips move in slow, deep circles. The soft fabric of his briefs caressing him.

“Having fun by yourself, Shadowsinger?” Azriel silently gasps, sitting up to see you stood in the center of his bedroom. Nightgown clinging to your body, loose hair swaying at you tilt your head to the side.

“Get out.” Azriel growls. As much as he tries to avoid you, one conversation has you following him around like a lost puppy?

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You pout.

“Leave.” Azriel points to his door. Heart racing, from surprise or lust he doesn’t know.

You shake your head, silky thighs brushing against each other as you move towards him. “You don’t want me to leave.”

“Leave.” Azriel repeats hardly over a whisper, chest visibly rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“You don’t want me to leave.” You match his volume. Your condescending tone mocking his decaying self control as you come to a halt right between his thighs.

You look down at him with those dark eyes. Words, thoughts, air all elude him as you lower yourself.

Azriel’s eyes never leave yours, his lips part slightly in fascination at the sight you kneeled before him.

“Do you?” You ask virtuously.

Azriel subtly shakes his head

Your pouted lips morph into a wicked smirk. “Then tell me I’m better.”

Azriel blinks. Confusion trickling into his intoxicating lust. “What?”

“Tell me that I’m better.”

“A better what? Whore?”

You scoff a laugh. “Spy. Everyone thinks it already, just admit I’m better.”

The haze of infatuation decomposes into disdain. For only a second he forgot about that arrogance, that you aren’t this innocent, amazing person everyone thinks you to be. You’re rotten and he’ll make sure you know it. Tonight he’ll teach you.

Azriel roughly grips your jaw in his hand, jerking you closer to him. An inaudible squeak leaving your puckered lips as your eyes widen at the unexpected movement.

“You will never be a better spy than me. You’re hardly a good thief.” Azriel’s grip tightens, pushing your lips even more together. His index finger brushes over them before he presses it down hard to keep you silent. “I still think you’d make a better whore.”

Your muffled response is lost on him as he squeezes even harder. You flinch at the ache forming in your cheeks.

“You’re going to show me just how good of a whore you can be.” Azriel’s thumb caresses your jaw. You glare at him but it only earns you a wry smile. Seeing you start to become irate just as you make him every second of the day is so satisfying.

“Show me.” Azriel releases you with a shove of your face. He leans back slightly on his palm, it’s his turn to wear the arrogant smirk.

And it’s your turn to be speechless. You only sit there, jaw clenched and red with his finger prints, debating your next move. “Not until you give me what I want.”

Azriel’s smirk widens. “I don’t think you understand. You are going to give me everything that I want and you are going to take everything I give you. Every last inch.”

You sneer up at him, eye glaring with animosity. Yet you stay there on your knees for him.

“Come here.” He coos, gesturing you to lean closer. Hesitantly, you come closer. His eyes fixate on your mouth again as he brings his index and pointer finger to rest on your bottom lip. “Open.”

You don’t open. You only glare at him as his fingers play with your lips. Moving them side to side trying to find an entrance into your mouth.

“I said open.” Azriel growls growing impatient with your attitude.

You take a second, another before parting your lips slightly. Letting him slide his long jagged fingers into your mouth. They slide across your tongue, reaching even further until they touch the back of your throat. Knuckles pressed to your lips.

Your eyes squeeze shut holding back a gag, his fingers curling deep in your throat. “This is where I want my cock. All the way back here, baby.”

He pulls his drenched fingers from your throat, sending you into a coughing fit as you try catching your breath.

Azriel chuckles, completely taking pleasure in assaulting your pride. “Good whore. Now show me where it goes.”

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as you glare up at him. “Fuck you.”

Azriel frees himself from the confinement of his pants. His throbbing member eaking with need. You bite the inside of your cheek, contemplation in your stare.

You roll your eyes with a grimace before sticking out your tongue and dragging in from his base to his cum beaded tip.

Azriel takes in a sharp breath.

You roll your eyes again, taking his head into your mouth. Lazily and indifferent you bob your head around his tip.

Azriel scoffs, lacing his fingers through your hair and tugging you off of him. He leers down at you. “Don’t be a fucking brat. Suck my cock.”

He pulls you back down into him. Your soft whimper duly noted.

You wrap your mouth around his shaft, slowly sinking, throat stretching as he guides you further.

A strangled moan leaves Azriel when his head hits the back of your throat. You gag around him, clamping his stiffness.

His stomach tightens at the euphoric feeling. He can’t imagine you anywhere but here with his cock down your throat forever.

You go to pull away but his hand holds you down tightly.

“Not yet. Stay right there.” Azriel moans, grinding his hips into your face, wanting every inch of himself to be covered in your warm saliva. “Stay right fucking there.”

You gag again, reaching up and digging your nails into his thighs as his cock pulses in your throat. He groans pulling off of him again.

Your coughs are replaced by whines as you struggle to regain your breath. “Asshole.”

Azriel laughs at the image before him. Your cheeks pink from the pressure, drool dripping from your lips and eyes glossy. He reaches out, swiping his thumb over your tantalizing lips, spreading your spit across them.

You turn your head away, glaring daggers he knows you wish to impale him with at this very second. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Bullshit.” Azriel smirks. You raise a brow in question. “I think you’re bullshitting. You want my cock in your mouth. You want me to stretch that little throat of yours.”

Azriel gently caresses your jaw. Your eyes fluttering shut. “You want me to fuck your face until you’re covered in my cum.”

You open your half lidded eyes, chewing on your bottom lip. Unadulterated lust filling your gaze.

He could cum at this sight alone.

Azriel pushes your loose strands behind your ear and his hand slides to the back of your head, cradling you with affection. “Now suck it and make it yours, angel.”

You waste no time, taking him as far as you can, bobbing your head up and down, sucking and twisting and drooling all over him.

“Oh shit.” Azriel’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He grips your hair, not needing to guide you anymore. You devour him with an insatiable hunger, gagging and choking around him.

Azriel brings both hands to cup your face and hold it still. “F-fuck, look at me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, tears streaking your cheeks. His hips thrust up into your tight throat, wanting to be impossibly deeper in your warmth. “You look so good choking on my cock.”

Your nose crinkles as you smile and what he assumes is your muffled attempt at giggling vibrates around him. “So fucking beautiful.”

Azriel continues to drive himself into your mouth. Tension begins to build inside him, hips bucking as he starts to lose his pace in the heightening feeling.

“I’m close. Fuck!” Azriel pulls your mouth off of him. You whine at the sudden loss but quickly open wide and stick your tongue out with excitement.

Azriel groans taking his cock in his hand and stroking desperately as he tilts your head back. His tip brushing your tongue earning even more moans from the Shadowsinger.

Azriel lets out a long, breathy moan, feeling himself start to come undone. Shockwaves grip his entire body as hot white ribbons shoot across your tongue and face. A smile graces your lips as you hum in content.

Azriel gawks at his masterpiece in admiration.

You swipe your fingers over your cheek, gathering his seed and toying with it. You chuckle and he can’t help but do the same.

“I do make a good whore.” You smirk before leaning forward. Your eyes closing gently as you slowly tilt your head and come closer.

You were going to kiss him. Azriel’s heart beats even more rapidly. You were going to kiss him and he would finally know.

Azriel closes his own eyes, awaiting your lips.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel opens his eyes to see the ceiling. He sits up finding himself in the same position he had upon returning to his room last night.

Another dream? How? You were right there, making him cum.

Azriel sighs, making his way to the bathroom to clean up the mess he’d made of himself.

This is going to be the longest day ever.

Tag list:

@quinzzelx @mybestfriendmademe @quiettuba @kksbookstuff @bloodicka @lilah-asteria @honk4emoboyz

[milfjuulpod]

five times melissa is possessive

content warnings: mentions of alcohol

I.

   “You get locked out of your computer again?” You asked with a smile as you entered Melissa’s classroom. She had texted you that she needed help with something, so here you were within a minute. “No, I can't find the worksheets I downloaded and I don’t even know what to search for. I’m so frustrated I wanna rip the computer off the desk and chuck it out the window,” The older teacher responded, getting out of her chair to make room for you and leaning against the desk she threatened to do damage to. 

   Sitting down, you began combing through her files in her downloads folder. You found them immediately, but didn’t wanna bruise her ego by telling her straight away. You leaned back, and a small but ornate picture frame caught your eye. Inside, it held a photo of you and Melissa, standing outside of a restaurant downtown. 

   You remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was the first time you had hung out with the redhead outside of work, the two of you arrived together meeting everyone to watch a game. 

“C’mon hon, I’ll drive you home.”

“Wait! I need a picture, of us.”

Melissa’s laugh was like music to your ears, a symphony of happiness and warmth. “A picture? For what? Proof that I didn’t kidnap ya?”

“No silly, proof that we hung out and had a good time. You know, for the memories.”

She chuckled but accepted, wrapping her arm around your waist as she pulled you in and leaned in close for the picture. 

“Perfect. I’ll send it to you.”

   “Whatcha lookin’ at over there?” Melissa’s voice pulled you from the memory. “This picture of us, cute that you have it up here,” You told her, tracing your fingers over the details on the frame. She smiled before responding, “Yeah, I like to look at it throughout the day, it reminds me that I still have good things in the world.”

II. 

     The gym was full of bustling bodies getting ready to hear the announcement Abbott’s fun-loving principal had prepared for the day. Of course right next to each other were Melissa and Barbara, but Melissa’s purse held the seat to her right. Countless times she denied teachers and staff the chair, despite how full the room was getting. She was running out of excuses at this point, even Barbara had to ask. “Who are you holding that seat for?”

     As if on cue, you finally came through the double doors. Janine waved you over to her, somehow she saved and scored seats close enough to the front, but a low voice stopped you from continuing in that direction. 

     “Hey, kid,” Melissa hollered for you and motioned you towards her. Silently, you stood for a second, torn between the better seat and Melissa. Not to mention if you ignored Janine, you’d have to spend the next week making up for it. Upsetting Melissa, you’d have to spend the next...

     Quickly you made up your mind and walked towards the redhead, and she moved her purse just in time for you to sit down. You mouthed an apology to your other friend just in time.

     “Finally, what took you so long?” Melissa asked you quietly, as Ava could now be seen on stage. 

     “Sorry, I was trying to finish up the last batch of test grading for the week.” You answered, honestly. Trying to keep your voices down, Melissa and you scooted closer together, leaning into each other’s spaces. Although, you noticed the older woman had stuck her heeled boot around the leg of your chair and you realized you couldn’t move it if you tried. 

      Despite Ava starting her announcement, Melissa kept talking to you. “It’s okay, hon. I just had to fight off a couple of vultures to keep this seat for ya.” You blushed at the idea of Melissa shooing people away from the chair you currently occupied. 

      “You didn’t have to do that, y’know. Save the seat for me and all. I’m sure I would’ve found space somewhere. But thank you.” Melissa huffed at your response and tried (barely) to not roll her eyes. “I know, but I like sitting here. I always sit here.”

      You squinted at her for a moment, trying to connect the dots between your statement and hers. What did it matter that she liked sitting here? Nonetheless, you started paying attention to whatever the principal was talking about now, in hopes that it had been enough time for her beginning rambles to have subsided. 

      As the presentation came to an end, slowly everyone shuffled out of the gym and to their respective rooms, and quietly the three of you waited in your chairs for the masses to leave. While people-watching the room, you picked up on the conversation to your left. 

     “I should’ve known,” Barbara muttered to her friend. You assumed Melissa gave her a confused look, because Barbara not-so-subtly gestured to you and your seat. Melissa just rolled her eyes once again, but turned her attention to you. Her green eyes made you feel a rush of emotions as they met your own. “Hi,” she said quietly, as if she was worried about scaring you off. “Hi,” you replied. “Ready to go?” She asked, grabbing both of your bags off the floor as the two of you stood up. 

      The walk back to everyone’s classrooms was quiet, but you didn’t miss the look Barbara gave her friend again as she made her way into her own room. “Here’s your bag, hon. I’ll see you at lunch?” Melissa asked, handing you your belongings as she leaned against the doorframe of your classroom. “Yes you will, and thank you.” You replied, trying to hide the blush with your hair as you took your bag from Melissa and finally found peace inside your own classroom. 

III. 

      You walked with your favorite redhead up and down the aisles of the grocery store, picking up ingredients for dinner tonight. After having a rough day, Melissa offered to make you dinner. You agreed, but only if she’d let you be there for every part, including the store. Usually the Italian liked keeping every part of cooking to herself, but she found herself enjoying sharing it with you. Even the mundane aspects like the grocery store were turned into such a lovely time between the two of you. 

      “I’ll go pick out the onions for the sauce, last time I left the job to someone else I regretted it. Would you mind picking out the wine hon? I’ll meet ya over there and then we can check out.” Melissa asked before leaving the aisle the two of you were in. 

      “Sure, see you over there,” You replied, and the two of you split ways momentarily. Taking your time, you slowly went down the first aisle of wines, reading each label carefully. Even though Melissa always trusted you with the wine, you were nervous every time. Down the second aisle, a gentleman approached you. 

      “Need help finding anything ma’am?” He asked. You took a step back from the wines before replying. 

      “Oh, no, thank you. My friend will be here in just a moment.” You went back to scanning the bottles, but the employee continued talking.                   

      “I see you’re looking at our Bogle merlot! You know there’s a great winery with a merlot that has a very similar palette.” 

      “That’s nice, is it close by?” You asked to be nice, but didn’t bother looking at the man. 

       “It is, I know this area very well. Grew up here my whole life.” He replied. A couple minutes passed like this, him grasping at straws to continue the conversation and you completely disinterested. Finally, you grabbed a bottle and started walking away. 

       “Y’know if that’s all you’re getting I can check you out over here!” He offered. Before you could deny him yourself, a familiar voice spoke up from behind the two of you. 

        “She’s with me actually, we were just leaving,” Melissa announced her presence and began walking towards the two of you. You hoped the employee couldn’t read her as well as you could, but based on his wide eyes, your hope fell flat. It was clear the redhead was annoyed, and annoyed at him no less. She refused to break eye contact with him, glaring the entire time. When she caught up to you, she didn’t bother slowing down as she looped her arm with yours and continued to the checkout line. 

       “Took long enough Mel,” You teased, hoping to calm her down. Her lack of response told you it didn’t work. “I’m excited for dinner tonight, and I hope you liked the wine I picked out.”

        “I’m sure I will, and I hope that guy loses his job here so he can stop preying on pretty girls that come by to get wine for their dinner plans,” She spat, but not at you. She was good at never making it at you. 

        “Oh calm down, babe. He was just doing his job,” You lied. You knew he was being a little too nice to you, but Melissa didn’t need to know those details. 

         “Well he was doing it too well for my liking.”

          “I’ll make sure to never leave your side at the grocery store again, that way if another too good employee comes by you can stop them for me,” You joked. Melissa smiled again, and it was a beautiful sight to see. 

         “Good, I don’t like getting mean in front of ya.”

           “Yes, you do!” You laughed. Melissa loved getting an attitude in front of you. She knew you liked it just as much as she did. 

          “Yeah, I guess I do.”

IV. 

     Melissa knew she had a jealous streak, and when it came to you, a possessive streak as well. Most of the time neither of you minded, it made you feel special and the redhead feel wanted. Occasionally, Melissa had a hard time containing her emotions, especially the feelings she has towards you. She hated when those came to the surface. 

      So she sat, filled with jealousy and self-pity, as she watched you ignore her existence throughout the entire lunch period. Usually, you sat right next to her, she could talk about her morning and you would listen, occasionally offer advice. She loved getting to hear your version of your morning, since it was usually very dramatic and made her giggle, always. 

     Not today, though. Today, you were too occupied with the new librarian. Instead of listening to Melissa rambling, you were listening to him. She knew you didn’t like men very much, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you didn’t even greet her and there was only ten minutes left of lunch was enough to ruin her mood. Before the bell rang, Melissa sighed and packed up her things as quickly as she could. She said goodbye to Barbara, but not to you. If you weren’t going to say hello, she wasn’t going to say goodbye. She did, however, give you a dirty look at the last second before the door shut behind her. 

     You froze, it had been a long, long time since Melissa has given you a look like that one. Usually it was reserved for serious issues or people she didn’t care for too much, so you started going over the day in your head wondering what was going on with her. This morning you hadn’t seen her, and you hadn’t stopped by to chat with her for lunch yet, so-

     There it was. With a sigh of relief you ended your conversations and made your way to the feisty redhead’s classroom. Instead of knocking, you slowly opened the door and allowed yourself in. 

     “Hi lovely, how was your lunch? I didn’t get a chance to talk to you so I wanted to stop by before grabbing the kiddos,” You announced your presence to the other woman, which went almost ignored. It wasn’t until you made it all the way to her desk that she spoke to you. 

    “Lunch was fine, I noticed you were busy with the fresh new hire so I kept my distance. Seemed like you needed it,” She responded shortly. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted your attention desperately, even if it was negative. 

    “Melissa...” You started, waiting for her to meet your gaze before continuing. She looked at you with anger, but you knew her, you knew that look. The only other time it happened was when you ditched your plans with her for an impromptu tinder date that went poorly. (She never let you live that mistake down, by the way). She was hurt, her feelings were hurt and she didn’t want to tell you. 

    “Why are you yelling at me? Is it because I didn’t talk to you all day?” You asked with a hint of teasing in your voice, enough to let Melissa know you were serious but not upset with her. She nodded, still having trouble admitting exactly what was going on inside the beautiful mind of hers. 

    “You know just because I’m friends with other people doesn’t mean I love you any less. And if you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve done so.”

   Melissa sat there for a moment, digesting your words slowly. She looked away before responding. “I know, I just-It’s hard. I want your attention but I don’t want to ask for it. If you’re not giving it to me then I just think you don’t want to anymore.”

   “Mel, no, no.” You stepped closer into her bubble and leaned against her desk. “I’ll stop anything I’m doing for you. Just ask, if I’m not showering you with enough love and affection already.” She smiled at that, thankful to realize you weren’t that mad at her. 

   “Okay, sorry for snapping at you hon. I won’t do it again,” Melissa looked up at you through her eyelashes and pouted out her bottom lip. You knew it would probably happen again, but you didn’t care. After a few months of nonstop flirting and teasing, you figured out Melissa returned some sort of feelings for you. However, it was just as clear that she was scared of whatever this was. Every time the two of you got close to having that conversation, she backed away. You could practically see the words falling off her lips before she would swallow them again. So you remained patient with her, she was worth waiting for. That much you knew. 

    “It’s okay my love, just save the glare for the other guy next time, yeah?” You playfully shoved her shoulder to punctuate your sentence, which got you an eye roll from the Italian. “Yeah, yeah, you’re fine.” You gave her one more sincere smile and hopped off the desk to go back to your own classroom. 

“Hon?” Melissa’s voice stopped you at the door. 

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

V.

     It had been a few weeks since Melissa’s last “outburst,” if you would even call it that. But the “days since last incident” counter was about to go down to zero. 

     Melissa sat at the bar, waiting for your drink and hers, as she watched you float between your friends. She let her green eyes roam over your figure, the way your dress hugged your skin so tightly, she wished it was her own hands. The way you so effortlessly swayed your hips to the music, like you didn’t even realize it was happening. The older woman was so mesmerized, she almost missed the bartender setting down the two drinks beside her. As soon as she got sight though, she grabbed them and made her way over to you. 

      Out of the corner of your eye, there she was, beautiful as ever. It didn’t matter if it was the alcohol or Melissa, but you felt incredible. 

      “Thank you beautiful, what do I owe ya?” You asked as you grabbed your drink from your friend’s hand. 

       “How about a dance?” She answered your question with a question. Melissa let you take a couple sips before taking the drink back and dropping them off with your friends. As she turned around, the woman was about as red as her hair when she saw a man coming up behind you getting ready to try and dance. 

      You don’t know whose hands were on you first, but very quickly you were behind Melissa as she was staring down a much taller man. 

      “Can we help you?” She yelled more than she asked, keeping an arm over your side as she kept you behind her. You knew what was about to happen, the stranger was going to say something sly, Melissa would say something worse, and you’d calm her down before getting her on the dance floor again. Something in you decided to change that routine though, usually you stayed quiet when she got this way, stayed clear from the path of Schemmenti rage and watched thoroughly entertained. 

    Instead of staying out of her way this time and waiting for her, you leaned into it. How could you not when Melissa was getting ready to fight someone over you? You placed your hand gently over hers and rested your chin on her shoulder, immediately noticing her eyes flash over to you. Her grip tightened around your thigh in response. 

      “I was just trying to dance with a pretty girl, didn’t know that was a problem,” The stranger spoke and took a few steps back, throwing his hands up in false surrender. 

      “It is.” Melissa said, about to take a step forward, unwilling to let him get away. You felt her body shift against you and quickly wrapped your left arm around her, holding her against you. 

       “Baby, should we step outside for a second?” You asked Melissa, making a point to let her feel your breath linger for a second. She might get onto you for making her so flustered later, but that would be better than getting kicked out for a bar fight. 

       Without answering, she took your hand in hers and led you to the back exit, ignoring the questioning looks from your friends behind you. The cold wind felt sobering against your hot skin, although your hand was kept warm by Melissa’s. She was gripping it so tightly still, you wondered why she was still so frustrated. 

      “Mel? Are you okay?” You asked. Letting go of her hand you stood in front of her, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind her ear. Her cheeks were still so red, hands clammy, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look at you so wide-eyed before. 

     “I...” She started. Melissa looked at your lips for a moment before returning to your gaze. “He can’t touch you like that.”

    “I don’t even think he got a chance before you were back over there. Besides, why can’t he?” You challenged her. It was risky, hopefully with a reward. 

    She tightened her grip on your hand and pulled you close so your bodies were flush together. Sure, you knew a couple tricks to make Melissa blush or get flustered, but she was exceptionally good at it. Her fingers against your lower back started moving back and forth, sending chills up your spine. Her other hand let go of yours and found itself getting tangled in your hair. 

      “Because dolcezza, can he touch you like this? Hm? Would you be this needy for anyone else? You’re mine, you know you are.” The older woman’s words sent heat through your body. 

     “Prove it then.”

      As quickly as the words were out of your mouth, Melissa’s lips were on yours. She was gentle at first, giving you an opportunity to stop if you want. When your own hands found themselves reaching to touch her more, she knew she got you. Her hand in your hair tugged a bit, and when you moaned in response Melissa took the opportunity to taste you. Feeling her groans against you, because of you, was a new high you would forever be chasing. Her grip on you was tight, she was unrelenting, not wanting to let you out of her sight again. 

      It was like the past few weeks of Melissa keeping her mouth shut had built up inside of her, she needed you, and she needed you to know that. Feeling herself getting too worked up, she gave you a few more kisses before pulling away. You couldn’t help but whine when she did so, missing her lips already. 

     “Yknow, I might keep letting people flirt with me if it means you kiss me like that every time,” You softly spoke. Melissa couldn’t help but laugh at that, even though the both of you knew she would not put up with that. Certainly not anymore. You were finally hers. 

[ekingston]

A chef!AU, maybe? In any case, a story in which Kara and Lena meet through one of them preparing/serving/etc food for the other and build their relationship based on that.

(also on ao3.)

“I’m telling you, Alex. It’s her.”

At three pm on a Tuesday their restaurant is characteristically dead, save for the one lone customer Kara is spying on from behind the kitchen doors. The woman is perched, a little perilously, on a barstool at the counter. It’s the one that’s closest to their register, the one with the wobbly leg that Alex keeps telling Kara to fix. One of her red-soled heels is dangling from an impatiently bouncing left foot.

“This is the fourth time this week she’s come in here,” Kara says. “You don’t think that’s just a little bit suspicious?”

Alex shrugs, fully committed to her task of mincing onions. “Maybe she’s just a big fan of Italian food.”

“No way,” Kara says. “No woman who looks like that would put something in her mouth that wasn’t clearly marked gluten-free and vegan. Give me your phone.”

Alex rolls her eyes dramatically as she elbows it over. “Tell me again how you’re totally over Siobhan.”

“Oral sex isn’t a moral issue!” Kara takes a decisive breath while she unlocks her sister’s phone with practiced ease. “Whatever. Water under the bridge.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A love for pasta also doesn't explain why I heard this woman answer a call yesterday with a different name than the one that’s on her credit card,” Kara points out, before snapping a quick picture through the porthole window.

“Okay, now you’re being creepy,” Alex says.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her. “I’m texting Winn.”

Kara eyes the woman at the counter while she waits for his reply. The subject of her suspicion—Lena, she’d called herself on the phone; Tess Mercer, it had said on her mastercard—twists a soft-looking lock of dark hair around her finger as she studies their menu. The way the sunlight sets it ablaze almost makes Kara take a second picture, purely for its artistic merit.

Alex dabs at her onion-induced tears with the cuff of her sleeve. “Let it go, Kara,” she sighs.

“Let it go? Let it—” Kara whirls back to face her, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Do you want The Tower to end up like Winn and James’ steakhouse? Or are you fine with getting swindled by this—this… villain?”

“Of course not.” Alex looks at her like she’s stupid. “But even if this woman is your so-called ‘food influencer’, what do you suggest we do about it? It’s not as if we can bully her into giving us a fair review.”

Kara squares her jaw and sets her fists firmly on her hips. “No,” she declares, her tone grim. “But we can teach her a little about journalistic integrity.” She blows at a lock of hair that’s fallen in her face. “And also, possibly, credit card fraud.”

Alex narrows her eyes at her. “Kara,” she warns, putting down her knife. Her voice is low and cautious, as if she’s talking to the rowdy raccoon that moved into their dumpster three weeks ago instead of to her baby sister. “Let’s just take a breath and think about this for a m—”

Kara is already gone, the doors to the kitchen swinging closed behind her. Sliding into the cluttered space behind the counter, she crosses her arms and then drops her elbows on the bar, leaning what she belatedly realizes is probably a little too close to her adversary. She’s close enough to make out the individual downy hairs on her chin and the lines in her painted lips, which are still pursed thoughtfully in what Kara is sure would look like an attractive pout to someone who didn’t know any better.

But Kara knows so much better.

“Let me guess,” she remembers to get out, much less biting than originally intended. “Today you’ll be having the fifth entrée down the list.”

As soon as their eyes meet over the miniscule amount of space left between them, Kara knows leaning in was a fatal mistake. Her nemesis blinks up at her with wide, startled eyes that remind Kara of the glass pebbles she finds on the beach on her morning walks, not-quite-blue and not-quite-green, and for a moment Kara’s brain sputters out as if someone abruptly turned off the flames that kept it cooking.

But the woman recovers fast, like the scheming scoundrel that she is. She guiltily shutters her eyes behind thick, charcoal lashes, and Kara’s temper revives at the observation that her enemy isn’t as good of an actress as she thinks she is.

“I’ve actually been thinking of breaking my own rule,” she says, with a smile that lands somewhere between self-deprecating and apologetic. “I may give in and order the same thing you served me yesterday.” Kara goes hot all over with righteous indignation at the rich timbre of the woman’s voice, the almost flirtatious lilt it takes on when she adds, “I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about it.”

Kara pulls back a little in an effort to escape that curious gaze, the enticing scent of the woman’s perfume. It’s sweet enough to drown out even Alex’s mountain of onions. “I know what you’re doing,” she blusters.

The—frankly unfairly beautiful—soulless grifter stares at her, stricken. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Kara says. “I know who you are.” And then, as if she’s putting down the last card in a game of Uno, “Lena.”

The woman goes very still for a moment, and then the corners of her lips tug down in a bitter semblance of a smile. “I see,” she says. She’s rigid, regal; she’s royalty perched on a wobbly wooden stool. “And am I to assume that’s enough for you to turn down my patronage?”

Kara’s resolve wobbles, too. She hadn’t expected her adversary—Lena, she now knows—to roll over so easily. “Well, yeah, obviously,” she flusters, her energy suddenly too large and lumbering in the face of Lena’s deference. “Winn and James are family.”

“Family.” There’s a flicker of wistfulness in Lena’s voice, before confusion colors her features. “So the cold shoulder,” she says. “It’s personal?”

Kara scoffs. The fraudster doesn’t even remember the names of her latest victims. Typical. “It was their steakhouse that you razed to the ground last month,” Kara reminds her.

Lena blinks at her. “The establishment just up the road?” She raises a critical eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they set themselves up for failure when they decided to name their restaurant Misteak.”

Kara huffs. Her air quotes are appropriately vicious when she says, “They were doing just fine before your slanderous ‘review’ went viral.”

Lena does a remarkably convincing impression of someone who is genuinely flabbergasted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Liar.”

Lena’s shocked laughter is bright but brief. It’s the first time Kara has heard her laugh. It’s maddeningly attractive and deeply annoying.

“Okay,” Lena says. She folds her arms in front of her chest and leans back a little in her seat, unaware of its delicate disposition. A smirk tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Tell me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”

Kara leans in close again, refusing to allow Lena to get the upper hand. She’d like to wipe that smirk from Lena’s face—manually, if need be—preferably, even, if it means she’d get to smudge that infuriatingly immaculate lipstick with her thumb—

“You,” Kara charges, in an effort to drown out that unhelpful thought, “are a fraud. You call yourself a ‘mystery food critic’ on TikTok, but really you’re blackmailing businesses into buying a favorable review.”

“Hey, um.” Alex has followed her out of the kitchen, holding her phone. “So. Winn texted back, and he says—”

But Lena laughs again, her guarded posture melting down to unmistakable relief. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice a high warble. “That sounds awful. And also extremely illegal. Have you reported this person to the authorities? I can get you in touch with an excellent lawyer, if you’d like.”

Kara doesn’t know if she feels more outraged or confused.

…Or possibly some secret third thing.

“So you’re telling me—” Kara barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re saying you’re not her.”

“This, ehm— Tic Tac person?” When Lena’s dark lashes flutter, something in Kara’s chest flutters too. “No.”

Impossible. “Then why have you been in here every day this week?” Kara interrogates, the full force of evidence she’s collected behind it. “When neither one of us has seen you here even once, since we opened?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen her here before,” she points out. “Also, Winn says—”

“Oh please,” Kara scoffs, her eyes fixed on Lena, who has propped her elbows on the counter again, closer now than she’d been the last time their eyes met. “As if you could forget a woman as beautiful as—” Kara’s gaze drops to Lena’s mouth, unbidden, when Lena parts those rude, ruby lips. “...You.”

Alex stares.

Kara swallows.

Lena blinks; two times fast, and then again, after a beat, slow and sticky, her eyes darkening.

“So you may as well come out with it,” Kara croaks out what little remains of her anger. “There’s something you want more than our fettuccine.”

Lena’s cheeks have turned a treacherously charming shade of pink. “I suppose you’re right about that one, at least,” she admits after a beat.

In Kara’s peripheral vision, Alex frantically slides her hand across her throat. Kara frowns at her, telegraphing a wordless what is your problem but finding no satisfactory answer in the crimson shade her sister’s face has taken on.

“Yeah, well,” she says, almost disappointed, fumbling to fill the space left by Lena’s confession. “I’m telling you right now that it’s never going to happen.”

Alex clears her throat with startling force. “Winn wants to know,” she says, reading from her phone, “Who’s the hot chick?”

When Kara returns her gaze to the woman on the other side of the counter, she gulps. Lena is somehow even closer than she was before. She’s also fully propping herself up now on the laminate surface between them, granting Kara a glimpse of freckled cleavage that in no possible universe could be interpreted as unintentional.

“So,” Lena drawls. “What you’re saying is you’re not going to give me your number?”

Kara’s throat is suddenly very dry.

“Huh?” she manages, but only just barely.

“I was hoping,” Lena says slowly, that maddening smirk once again tugging up the corner of her mouth, “that you’d maybe like to—”

Lena shifts in her seat, crossing her legs in what is bound to become a devastatingly seductive pose, but the barstool decides in exactly that moment that's it’s finally had enough. Lena yelps as it gives out beneath her with a dramatic snap, one of its rickety limps flying across the floor as if celebrating its first taste of freedom, and Kara’s never considered herself to be very quick, but here she is anyway, on the other side of the counter in what feels like less than a second, one hand gripping Lena’s forearm, the other slipping smoothly around her waist.

“—fuck,” Lena gasps up at her. She feels good, in Kara’s hands, slight but pleasantly heavy, like the santoku knife Alex has forbidden Kara from touching ever again. “Well,” Lena says. “That’s. Perhaps not the way I would have phrased it, especially in front of your friend—”

They both glance over at Alex, but she’s disappeared, the swaying of the kitchen doors the only indication she was ever there.

“O-kay,” Kara says.

Lena grins. “Okay?”

Kara mentally rewinds the conversation and feels her ears burn at the realization of what she just agreed to. “I mean,” she amends. “We could, maybe, grab something to eat first?”

Something devious sparks in Lena’s terrifyingly gorgeous face. She glances down at Kara’s arms before blinking back up at her again and smirking. “I thought you already had.”

And, goodness gracious.

Kara is about to be in so much trouble.

[honeygrahambitch]

"Where did this come from?" Hannibal asked. His hands were busy washing Will's hair. A bruise on his temple drew his attention, making him brush away the foam to get a better look. "It wasn't here yesterday."

"A guy we arrested showed some resistance. He hit me with the barrel of his gun." Will explained. His eyes were closed and he was almost purring in Hannibal's hands.

Hannibal made a disapproving sound.

"Shame you arrested him. I can't go after him now."

"You do realize you can't chase down every guy who touches me, right?"

"One can always try." Hannibal answered honestly and continued massaging Will's scalp.

"I never hear about stuff like that from you." Will suddenly said and opened his eyes.

"What kind of stuff?"

"About the people that do anything to you."

"That's because the people who do anything to me don't get to live too much, darling. I take care of them myself."

"Of that much I am aware." Will said and pictured the way the Ripper case file kept getting thicker and thicker on his desk. "It would be nice if you didn't. At least sometimes."

"Are you implying that you want to play the knight in shining armour? For me?"

"You're stupid." Will concluded. "But yes. Sometimes you are too elegant with these individuals. And I get it, that's your thing."

Hannibal hummed thoughtfully.

"You got me curious. I might take your offer."

"Do that."

*

"Alright. Now, let's discuss what the victims have in common." Jack said, looking through a few pictures.

Will's phone rang just when he was about to reply.

"Sorry." He apologized and was about to reject the call. Hannibal's name flashing on the screen made him do the opposite.

"Hey." Will greeted him.

"My dearest." Hannibal started. "There is a gentleman here at Walmart who left his shopping cart in the parking lot. Right in front of my Bentley."

"That... sounds annoying?"

"And agonizingly rude."

Will smiled thinking of the funny choice of words. He found it adorable that Hannibal had called to share that with him. Then it sunk in. He remembered about their discussion last night.

"You're at Walmart where exactly?"

"In Quantico. I wanted to pick you up later."

"I'm on my way. Don't let that son of a bitch go." Will said and hung up.

That was it. His knight in shining armour moment. The looks he earned from everyone in the room were mixed and confused.

"Sorry, I need to go. It's important."

"Of course. The serial killer can wait." Jack concluded as Will was already leaving the room.

*

"Hey." Will said as soon as he parked his car. "You."

"Huh?" The man who was already very bored with the conversation he was having with Hannibal turned his head towards Will.

"Yes, you. Grab your shopping cart quickly and put it where it should be."

"And who exactly are you? The shopping cart police?"

"I will be your worst nightmare if you don't do as I say. Trust me, this is me being nice."

"I'm not doing anything." He said and started walking towards his car. Will did not quickened his pace. He memorized the car plate and watched the man leave with a content smile on his face.

"That was me being nice." Will told Hannibal who looked like he was watching his favorite movie.

"I am looking forward to what will happen."

"Good." Will said, then kept on his shining armour. "Are you alright?"

"Bothered by this incident but I am slowly becoming more and more enthusiastic."

*

"I hope you understand why I also asked Dr. Lecter to consult on this case." Jack said as soon as Will and Hannibal arrived at the crime scene. "It's quite peculiar."

"The man was found dead in a shopping cart at Walmart. His liver is missing. The cut is quite sloppy so definitely not the Ripper." Jimmy explained.

"Was it really that sloppy?" Will asked unamused by the feedback.

"I mean, it shows that our killer has no medical training whatsoever. But he's good enough. Meticulous."

"What do you think, doctor?" Will asked, ignoring Jimmy.

"The crime scene shows high class. Power. It has something sensual to it. I would say that the killer must have been quite disturbed by a very specific behavior caused by the victim."

"What exactly?" Jack asked confused by the specific choice of words. He knew better than to question Hannibal.

"Maybe the victim left his shopping cart in the parking lot?" Brian suggested making Jack roll his eyes.

"I'm sure it's deeper than that."

[rkvriki]

— things they only share with you !

hey everyone, new post here !

make sure to leave feedback . my asks are open and so is my inbox so let's talk!!

WARNINGS ! mentions of taking a shower together, but that it; might contain grammar error.

word count: 1.9k

LEE HEESEUNG !

— his gaming pc

you were over at enha’s dorm since you were spending a few day’s there.

you and heeseung were currently in the living room, while he played with niki and jake on the tv and you were sitting besides him scrolling through your phone.

you have been like that for a while and you started getting bored and since you didn’t wanna disturb the game you tried to think of something to do.

something came to your mind and you asked something that seemed to shock the other guys.

“hee, can i play for a little bit on your pc?” 

“yeah of course angel!”

jake and niki turned their heads to you, their eyes widening.

“...what?” you asked, looking at them.

“i literally asked heeseung to play league on his pc yesterday and he almost ripped my head off.” niki told you making you smile.

“yeah, because you’re not her.” heeseung said, rolling his eyes.

“girlfriend privilege is real after all.” jake 

PARK JONGSEONG !

— his clothes

all the guys planned a dinner where they all took their partners.

so you and jay were now walking down the street towards the restaurant they had booked a table.

“i think this is it.” jay said, opening the door for you.

“ladies first!” he said acting like a gentleman making you laugh and playfully rolling your eyes at his silliness.

as you entered you spotted the boys and started walking towards them, sitting on the two seats that were left.

“you’re late. again.” jungwon told you guys, making you wince.

“yep, sorry bout that, won.” you told the younger boy smiling at him apologetically. 

“wait a minute…” heeseung started. all people at the table looked at him.

“is that… jay’s prada jacket?”

“um… yeah?” you said confused at his puzzled expression. heeseung playfully scoffed.

“oh my god, heeseung. don't even start.” jay said and you looked at him not understanding.

“so you let your girlfriend borrow it but not your dear bandmate? unbelievable!" you started laughing at heeseung.

“yeah but she’s my girl and you, thankfully, are not.”

“word!”

SIM JAEYUN !

— layla

ok obviously you can’t borrow an animal but you’ll see what i mean.

you woke up this morning and saw the weather was sunny and warm so an idea popped in your mind.

you texted jake and asked if you could take layla on a walk, to which he agreed right away.

he trusted you with layla alone and that meant a lot to you.

you went to pick her up at his house while he was at practice and started walking without a destination in mind.

you decided to go to han river and stay there for a while with her and watch as she played with other dogs.

you picked up her toy ball and started playing with her.

“layla, catch!” you threw the ball watching and she ran following it and jumping to catch it. you smiled at the view, enjoying the sunny weather and flowery scenery, picking up your phone to take a picture of the wholesome moment.

when the sun started to set, you decided to take her back to jake’s house, knowing he was there along with jungwon.

arriving at his house you rang the bell wrong for him to answer.

“hey, baby.” jake said, greeting you with a long peck, making layla bark.

you unleashed layla and got in, going to the kitchen where the boys were.

jungwon looked at you with layla by your side, you smiled and greeted him.

“were you with layla today?” he asked, raising a brow.

“yeah, why? went on a walk with her.” you said petting her head.

“i can’t believe you jake. i feel so betrayed.” jungwon said dramatically.

“what? i’m not catching.” jake said, confused.

“i literally asked you two days ago if i could take layla on a play date with maeum and you refused and almost blocked my number.” jungwon said, making jake shrug.

“it’s not fair! we are bros!” jungwon said.

“and she’s my girlfriend.” jake said and went to do something else in his room.

jungwon looked at you and you just shrugged apologetically.

PARK SUNGHOON !

— his jewelry

sunghoon and you were just hanging out in his room at the dorm talking about random things.

jay came into the room and you both looked at him.

“hey sunghoon, you know that dior ring you bought back in LA?”

“yeah, what about it?” sunghoon said, sitting up in the bed, already annoyed at him for ruining your precious time.

“ i was wondering if you could maybe let me borrow it for today’s dinner?” jay said, giving him a toothy smile and attempting to give him puppy eyes.

“yeah, no.”

“why not?”

“because… um no.”

“oh come on, just this once, hoon.” jay said, begging him, making you hold back your laugh.

“i said no, jay.”

“give me a valid reason then.”

“y/n’s already gonna wear it for the dinner.” sunghoon said and you stopped smiling, turning your head to him with a confused expression, making him kick you under the blankets. 

“sorry jay, i already claimed it.” you told him, smiling at him with a pitiful look.

jay rolled his eyes and turned to go away.

“whatever.”

“sunghoon, why did you do that?” you said, hitting his arm, scolding him.

“i have my priorities straight, princess.” sunghoon told you, smirking at you while you rolled your eyes, but still smiled.

KIM SUNOO !

— his skin care products

you and sunoo were having your weekly sleepover and you just finished taking a shower together. 

you put on your matching pajama sets and sunoo went into the kitchen to grab some snacks while you started doing your skin care routine using sunoo’s products.

before starting, you grabbed sunoo’s small speaker and connected it to your phone playing a random playlist.

you put on a headband sunoo had gifted you with bunny ears, using it to keep all the hairs away from your face.

you started your routine doing all the steps carefully, making sure to not use too much product since they were your boyfriend’s.

as you were moisturizing your face, sunghoon came into the room.

“ hey have you seen sun- what are you doing?” sunghoon said, looking at you with wide eyes as if you were gonna die.

“im… doing my skin care?” you told him with a puzzled expression, starting to get worried you did something wrong.

“you know what happens when you touch sunoo’s skin care right?” 

“i mean i’ve always used it since I come over often.” as you said that sunoo came into the room.

“sunghoon stop being jealous that i let my girlfriend use my forbidden possessions.” sunoo said, patting the older boy on the back.

“you almost punch us when we come close to touching your products, but she can do it?” sunghoon said, putting his hand on his chest, faking betrayal.

“go away before i break your pretty nose, please.” 

sunghoon sighed and went away.

“what was that?” you asked sunoo laughing at what just happened.

“you would never understand.”

YANG JUNGWON !

— his phone

you were at the boys dorm and you were all hanging out in the living room, just talking and playing around with each other.

the boys were just talking about random things that happened while they were away for tour, telling all the funny stories, making everyone laugh.

“i need to go to the bathroom.” jungwon said, getting up to leave.

“then there was this time where niki was doing a really funny impression of jay. it was so accurate.” jake said, making everyone laugh as they remembered the moment.

“i think jungwon recorded it on his phone, not sure tho.” heeseung said, making you get up and grabbing jungwon’s phone that was sitting in the table.

“i can check it here quickly.” as you said that, everyone suddenly went quiet and started looking at you shocked.

you unlocked jungwon’s phone and went through his gallery.

“wha. how did you even-” jay said, not believing what he saw.

“what?” you said looking at them and seeing their faces.

“you know his password. no, wait, you can pick up his phone?”

“yeah? why couldn't i?" you asked them, confusion covering your face.

“because won never let’s anyone touch his phone, let alone go through his gallery.” heeseung explained but you still didn’t understand.

“does he? i mean he even put my face recognition on his phone and asks me to send anyone texts, so i don’t think there’s a problem?” you told them trying to take away their confusion.

“oh god, i can’t- i mean it was kinda predictable.” jake said, not as surprised as before.

jungwon came back and saw everyone silent and looking at you.

“did i miss anything?” he asked, getting as confused as everyone.

“no, not really.” heeseung said. “just thought no one could touch your phone.”

jungwon looked at you and saw you with his phone.

“yeah, you can’t, she can, not a big deal.” he said sitting back next to you, as everyone scoffed and rolled their eyes.

“anyways jungwon.”

NISHIMURA RIKI !

— his choreographies

niki called you today, telling you he had something he had to show you at the dance studio, so you were heading to hybe’s building.

you got in and greeted the receptionist that was already familiar to you, so she let you up.

“he’s at the studio on the 5th floor.” she informed you, smiling tightly at you as you silently thanked her while bowing.

you went on the elevator and clicked the button to the 5th floor.

the ride was familiar, since niki always showed you and only you the choreographies he was working on, trusting your feedback the most, even if you didn’t understand anything about dancing.

you walked the corridor, greeting staff you were already familiar with.

you reached the dance studio and opened the door, hearing music loudly blasting from the speakers, which just meant he was dancing and working on the choreography.

you quietly entered the room, trying not to bother him.

you put your things down and sat on the floor, watching niki, as he performed the moves smoothly.

you loved watching dance niki, you thought nobody did it like he did. it was visible how passionate he was while dancing, specially if he was dancing something he created himself.

the song ended and you started clapping and he finally noticed you, running to you with open arms. you got up and embraced him, pecking his lips, letting yours linger for a while.

“you were doing so well, baby.” you told him with a proud smile, making his cheeks get a soft pink tint. he hides his face in your neck, mumbling a small thank you.

he pulled away and looked at you in the eyes.

“you know i only show you my choreographies. not even the boys know about them until they are finished. i trust you that much.” you smiled at him pecking his cheeks, feeling butterflies in your tummy and your heart doing flips.

“i know, riki. thank you for trusting me. i love you.”

“ i love you too, angel.”

a/n: how did you like this one? hope you enjoued it as much as i did !! give me your feedback, my inbox is open !!

[upat4amwiththemoon]

amelia shepherd x fem!reader that’s an intern or resident who keeps logging in hours on neuro when they aren’t really interested in it just to see amelia. and eventually amelia noticed and asked why. i don’t really have an idea for an ending but like fluff

girls

Summary: They’re so pretty it hurts.

Pairing: Amelia Shepherd x female!reader

Warnings: my medical knowledge is zero, Scout doesn’t exist

Word count: 911

a/n: Amelia is keeping the whole show together

masterlists | guidelines

“Y/N.” Amelia smiles as she sees the woman she has gotten to know well these past months. “More neuro hours, huh? Should I feel threatened you’ll take my spot as the head of neuro one day?” She grins, holding onto the tablet with all of her patients’ information.

Y/N laughs, following Amelia as they start walking. “No way. I don’t think you should be threatened by anyone.”

“I agree.” Handing the tablet to Y/N, Amelia opens the door to a room full of MRI scan images. They stand there for a moment, watching the images. “What do you see?”

Straightening her posture, she clears her throat and stares at the pictures more closely. “Uhm…a brain tumor?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head quickly, turning her gaze to Amelia. “It’s a brain tumor.”

“It is.” Amelia takes down the pictures. “What do we have to do?”

“Do a biopsy to figure out what type of tumor it is.”

Nodding, she puts the pictures aside and gestures for Y/N to follow her. They walk through the hospital hallways, all the way to the patient’s room. “Good morning, Mrs Noceda”. Amelia smiles as they settle into the room. She gives Y/N a look, giving her the moment to present the patient.

“Mrs Noceda, 53 years old, came to the hospital yesterday due to multiple complications, a MRI scan was made and a tumor was found.” Y/N lists, her eyes staying on the patient and Amelia. “Today’s agenda will be biopsy, which will tell us how to proceed.”

“Does that sound good?”

“Of course, you know best, Doctor Shepherd.” Mrs Noceda has a gentle smile on her face despite everything going on.

“Then we will get you into biopsy right away. Y/N will come and prepare you in just a moment.” Amelia takes the tablet from Y/N after they walk out of the room. “Make sure we have an OR ready soon, then prepare Mrs Noceda for the biopsy.” She writes the new information down on Mrs Noceda’s file.

“Yes, Doctor Shepherd.”

“You’ll join me on the biopsy.”

Y/N’s eyes widen momentarily, but she manages to keep herself in check. “If you wish so, Doctor Shepherd.”

“If you wish so?” With furrowed brows and a confused grin, Amelia turns her attention to Y/N. “A little more excitement would be great.”

“Sorry, I truly am very excited to be in this with you.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but there’s no time to dwell on the details. “Alright. Go get everything ready.”

“Yes, Doctor Shepherd.” With that, Y/N is off to book an OR and prepare Mrs Noceda for her biopsy.

After the biopsy, Y/N and Amelia are waiting to hear back from the lab to get the results. The latter is tapping her fingers against a table as she moves back and forth on the chair. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Y/N is sorting through papers. They’re cases from different branches, ortho, peds, general, cardio, and so on.

“Don’t take this as an attack,” now Y/N’s attention moves to Amelia, “why do you keep logging hours in neuro? You don’t seem too interested in it. Which I don’t get, neuro is easily the best and you’re really good at it.”

”Oh.” Y/N avoids eye contact. She didn’t think Amelia would notice her lack of interest to neuro despite the many hours she spends with the doctor. “Well…” she searches for words, though it’s clear she isn’t finding any.

“Are you here because of me?” Amelia has a playful grin on her face, which changes immediately as she notices Y/N somehow becoming even more uncomfortable. “You are?”

She lets out a breath, her cheeks puffing as she nods. “Maybe.” Her voice is a quiet mumble.

Amelia doesn’t know how to answer, not expecting this to be the actual reason for Y/N’s decision to spend time in neuro. She sits up straighter, pulling the chair closer to Y/N with her legs.

“I understand if you wish me to stop doing neuro.” Y/N says quickly.

She shakes her head. “I want you to do neuro if you enjoy it. I don’t want you to be here while wishing to log more hours into something else.” Her voice is gentle and comforting. “You are an intern, and I am in a position of power,” Y/N opens her mouth, but Amelia raises her hand to stop her, “however, I would be lying if I said I haven’t gotten…attached.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Amelia smiles when Y/N’s whole face brightens. “Don’t get too excited. All of this, whatever it is, has to happen slowly and discreetly, preferably out of the hospital.”

“I understand.”

“And you have to start logging hours into the branches you’re actually interested in.”

Y/N’s face falls momentarily, but she smiles quickly. She knows it’s for the better, she won’t become a good doctor by pining after someone while doing something she isn’t interested in. “Okay. I’ll start logging hours on other things too.”

“Good.”

“So…” Y/N fidgets with her fingers. “Does that mean we could go on a date?”

“We’ll go on a date. After we help Mrs Noceda with her tumor.”

She giggles in excitement. “Yes, Doctor Shepherd.” Amelia rolls her eyes with a grin, patting her arm before moving her chair right next to Y/N, curious with the other cases she’s studying.

[bosbas]

Chapter 8: this is falling in love in the cruelest way

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, heavily going off of book canon, me stirring the pot (im sorry)(no im not), PINING!!!!!!!, anthony being very much in love with his wife

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: guys i'm sorry but this picture is INSANE. the THIGHS??? HELLO? i am looking respectfully.......👁️👁️

June 5, 1816 – And yesterday, much to this author’s surprise, Lord Barlow reportedly proposed to Lady Montclair! This proposal comes unexpectedly after the Duke’s promiscuity with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball a few weeks ago. Given the fact that Miss Barrington has been compromised, it is incredibly shocking that Lord Arthur Barlow would do something like this in polite society. Luckily, Lady Montclair remains a single woman and swiftly rejected her former beau’s proposal. But this only begs the question: why did the Duke propose? Is Lady Montclair simply too alluring to pass up, or is something else amiss between Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington? 

“Oh, thank God,” muttered Colin under his breath, his eyes quickly scanning Lady Whistledown’s column as he sat on a bench in the garden. 

“What’s that you’re reading, brother?” asked Anthony, ears perking up at Colin’s scandalous language, even if it was just between brothers. 

Colin felt a slight blush forming on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud, having been too caught up in the news that you had finally received a proposal from Lord Barlow. It was a lovely day out, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were in the gardens of Number 5 Bruton Street after a round of fencing. 

Of course, once Francesca had come outside holding a copy of Whistledown to read in the gazebo, Colin had stolen it out of her hands and abandoned his brothers in favor of catching up on the ton’s happenings. Though no one should have been surprised by his interest, really, given that you were the main topic of most of the gossip sheets nowadays. 

“Nothing,” Colin answered quickly, trying to recover from his blunder. “It’s bizarre how invested one becomes in Whistledown while living here. Is this what every summer is like when one isn’t traveling for half the time?”

“In essence, yes,” answered Benedict, still jabbing at the air with his épée as Anthony stared at him amusedly. “What does she have to say today?”

“Lord Barlow proposed to Lady Montclair yesterday,” said Colin, a slight edge to his voice. “And he looked a sight while doing it, too, apparently.”

Benedict dropped his foil, turning around to fully face Colin with a shocked look on his face. “And what did she say?” he pressed, intrigued about the outcome of this curious development. It was practically unimaginable that the Duke had proposed to you after defiling another lady in the ton, and Benedict hadn't considered him capable. 

Anthony clapped him on the back, smirking at Colin as he did so. “Well, did you not hear the man say, ‘thank God’? Obviously, she said no.”

Colin crossed his arms, immediately defensive. “It wasn’t that obvious! She could have said yes, and my ‘thank God’ could have been because she would’ve finally left me alone. Duchesses have a lot to do; I doubt she’d find the time to be irritating while attending to her duties in the country.”

Benedict and Anthony gave their brother unimpressed looks, watching amusedly as he squirmed under their gaze. 

“I assure you, brother, that there was absolutely no possibility of that being the case,” said Benedict jovially, earning a snort from Anthony. 

But before Benedict could laugh, too, Colin lunged at him, épée in hand as he glared playfully at his brother. Finding himself unarmed, Benedict yelped and ran toward the house, citing a very important painting to attend to before sprinting back inside. 

Turning to Colin, Anthony smiled curiously. “So, it’s true, then? What Daphne said?”

“What did Daphne say?” asked Colin innocently, dreading the conversation that would follow.

“Don’t be daft. That you love Y/N.”

Colin rolled his eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. “I don’t love her; that’s ridiculous, Anthony! A mere two weeks ago, we absolutely despised each other. I hardly think I could love her now.”

But even as he said those words, Colin questioned whether he actually meant them. Could he love you? He hadn’t ever felt this way about anyone, but then again, no one had ever vexed him quite like you. Though lately, he had been finding the line between irritation and fascination to be quite blurred. So blurry, in fact, that he was having trouble seeing a line at all. 

Having clearly overheard part of the conversation, Gregory ran up to his brothers, laughing hysterically as Hyacinth chased him. He stopped and let his sister catch up, smiling evilly at the older Bridgertons “Colin loves who, now?” 

Hyacinth arrived a few moments later, panting heavily. “Y/N, of course,” she stated while trying to catch her breath, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What? What do you mean? Why do say that?” pressed Colin. Why did everyone in his family seem to think that he loved you? Surely they saw the two of you bickering incessantly, right? Your feud was so famous it had even made it to Lady Whistledown’s column. Colin couldn’t understand how anyone could think he had so much affection for you. 

Hyacinth raised an eyebrow at her older brother, unamused. “Colin, I am not an idiot. Though perhaps you might be,” she added brightly. And before Colin could respond, she quickly turned to her eldest brother. “Now, Anthony, could you please tell Gregory to give me back my quill?” she begged.

Gregory, scoffed, glaring at his sister. “I’d only borrowed it for a moment! And I only did so because Hyacinth hid mine! Anthony, she’s being unreasonable,” he whined.

Anthony affectionately patted them both on the head and flashed a faux sympathetic smile. “I rather think both of you are being quite the nuisance right now.” 

At times, Anthony found himself slipping into the role of a father figure to his youngest siblings. It was an unspoken duty he assumed after their father's passing. Yet, it was important to occasionally remind them that he was still their brother.

Hyacinth responded with a frustrated groan, her teeth grinding audibly, thoroughly vexed with her brother. However, the sight of Gregory's smug smile reignited her fury, and she immediately charged at him. Despite being older than Hyacinth, Gregory wasn't foolish enough to underestimate her, and he took off in a panic, screaming as he tried to outpace his deceptively quick sister.

Colin shook his head in amusement as he watched the antics of his youngest siblings. “Were Daphne and I truly like that?”

“Worse,” said Anthony flatly, but he couldn’t mask the warmth and fondness interlaced in his words.

At that, Anthony began to turn back toward the house. “Well, I must be-”

“Wait!” interrupted Colin. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had stopped his brother, other than the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility that he could love you. You, the person he supposedly hated. The person who certainly hated him. 

But, as always, Anthony was the right person to talk to about this. He would know what to say. Though it was well known that Anthony was completely smitten with his wife, Colin remembered a time when the pair seemed to dislike each other fairly intensely.

After a few moments of charged silence, Colin met Anthony’s expectant gaze. Swallowing his pride, he spoke up. “Purely hypothetically, and simply out of curiosity, when did you fall in love with Kate?”

Anthony smiled, amused. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand to his chin. “As long as it's purely out of curiosity,” he teased. “It wasn’t like I simply fell in love with her one day, Colin.”

“Yes, but if you had to pinpoint a moment?” pressed Colin, slightly exasperated. If anything, he needed to know if he had experienced that moment himself.

Anthony’s gaze softened, and he suddenly saw a lot of himself in Colin’s uncertainty and pause when it came to a woman who profusely vexed him. “I found Kate in the library the night after we played Pall Mall for the first time,” he recalled fondly. “We were at Aubrey Hall for the country party and it was raining outside quite loudly, a terrible storm. She was huddled underneath a desk because she was scared of the storm. I very quickly realized I couldn’t hate her anymore. Not properly, anyway. Not when I just wanted to sit on the floor with her and protect her from the storm, and anything else that might come her way.”

His voice had softened as he spoke about his wife, recalling the moment he truly knew there was no way out. Anthony had tried to deny it to himself after, but his protests simply held no conviction after that night. 

“You never told me that,” said Colin thoughtfully, not missing the glint of emotion in his brother’s eyes as he talked about his now-wife. 

“Yes, well, the real challenge was getting her to love me back,” he said, coming out of his musings. “And that didn’t happen for quite some time after that. It was rather premature of me to declare my love for this woman while I supposedly hated her and was still technically courting her sister.”

It was truly a wonder that he and Kate were married now. But when it was meant to be, it was meant to be, Anthony supposed. Something that was proving to be particularly true of you and his brother. If Colin, who had a deep-seated need to be liked by anyone and everyone, could fall in love with you, the only person who didn’t actually like him, then surely it was meant to be.

Colin, still deep in thought, chewed his lip nervously. “And how did you get her to fall in love with you?”

“We were caught in a… compromising position. She had been stung by a bee and I… Well, I’m sure you recall,” said Anthony, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy as he remembered the circumstances that allowed him to marry his wife. “It’s far easier to get a woman to love you when she’s already your wife,” he finished sympathetically. 

Colin choked back a laugh. “Unfortunately, I can’t very well put Lady Montclair in a compromising position, can I?” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But Colin, I thought this was all hypothetical,” teased Anthony, playfully punching his brother on the shoulder. 

Colin cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance as Anthony continued laughing at him. “Never mind. I’m off to find Eloise,” he muttered, patting the eldest Bridgerton on the back and leaving him free to go dote on his wife. 

After speaking with Anthony, Colin had a renewed sense of purpose. He had to find out why you hated him. He was so utterly exhausted of hating you and of having this tiresome charade of fighting with each other at every available moment. At this point, he didn’t particularly care who in the ton liked him or not. Colin knew he would happily take the entire ton’s wrath for the rest of his life if it meant you loved him.

But he needed to know just how unrealistic his hopes were. Eloise would be the best–and perhaps only­–person who would know. 

Colin found his sister practicing needlepoint in the sitting room, focused intensely on the material in front of her. It was unclear whether she was trying to sew the fabric or her finger, given how often she was pricking herself as she attempted to thread the needle. 

“El!” he called by the doorway, pausing when he saw his sister grimace after pricking herself once again. “I can return later if you’re busy.”

“No! No, please interrupt. Thank heavens,” gasped Eloise, grateful to be able to do something other than draw her blood. 

Colin laughed, amused, and suddenly felt a tad sheepish. Was he truly about to ask about you? To ask about you to Eloise, who would no doubt hold this over his head for the rest of eternity? But he had to know. He had to ask, at the very least. 

“I was just…I was wondering if you knew why Lady Montclair hates me,” he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Eloise let out a snort. “Well, I can’t imagine she’d be hard-pressed to find a reason why, given how you treat her.”

Seeing her brother’s crestfallen face, Eloise immediately sobered. Standing up and walking toward him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I thought you disliked her as well,” she said in a questioning tone.

“Of course I do,” clarified Colin quickly. “But she hated me first and I still don’t know why. I thought she might have said something to you, given how close the two of you are. Do you know at all?”

Eloise clicked her tongue in sympathy, looking at Colin with concern. Perhaps his feelings did run deeper than anyone thought, and the recent dancing and promenading were more than just Colin being his usual charming self around you. “I’m sure I have no idea, Col. But you could always just talk to her.”

Colin shook his head, smiling sadly at his sister. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? She doesn’t usually seem very eager to speak with me.”

Sure, the two of you had been getting along recently. But that had only been twice. And was that really enough to undo the weeks of hatred?

---

It was a particularly delightful Wednesday afternoon, and you found yourself feeding the ducks at Hyde Park as you watched Isabelle and Charlotte skip rocks across the pond. Though you loved Louis to bits, it was a lovely feeling to have both of your sisters home with you. There was simply something about being out in society that he could never quite understand like them, though not for lack of trying. 

After lunch, you, Charlotte, and Isabelle had managed to sneak out of the house just as the post-meal discussion grew rowdy. It was not unheard of to have such lively discussions in the Montclair household, and you frequently even enjoyed them. But there were some days, like today, that you frankly just wanted to have a quiet afternoon with a baguette and about a dozen ducks. Luckily, your sisters had decided to join you, and the three of you had set off toward the park in search of a flock of birds to feed.

It seemed that the ducks had taken much more of a liking to you than to your sisters, and they had grown disinterested in the endeavor. Charlotte and Isabelle had opted to give you their remaining bread and take a stroll around the mostly empty park, and you couldn’t say that you were complaining. Coming from such a large family, it was a rare luxury to have an afternoon largely to yourself. 

A while later, after most of the ducks found themselves happily full, you spotted a stumbling figure making its way toward you. As you turned to your sisters with a questioning look, you were disappointed to find them in deep conversation facing away from you, neither one of them noticing you. 

As the figure neared, you realized who it was: Nigel Berbrooke. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your stomach drop, unpleasant memories of him and his disgusting words flooding your brain. You had no desire to speak to this man, and you looked around for anyone you could speak with instead. But you had not brought a lady’s maid, and everyone else was too far to intervene.

“Lady Montclair,” said Nigel, with what looked to be an attempt at a seductive smile on his face. 

You stood up from your crouching position rigidly and turned to face him. You were unable to form any words, discomfort far outweighing any other emotion you were feeling. This had to be his first time back this season after his absence, you thought. You hadn’t seen him at any events since the Danbury ball, and you rather thought you would have noticed him, looking as vile as he did now.

His nose was a tad more crooked than on the night you had met him, and the bags under his eyes were ghastly. But perhaps it was just your perception of him, knowing what you did about who he was.

“Mr. Berbrooke,” you settled for saying, nose crinkling as you caught a whiff of the pungent smell of alcohol emanating off of him.

“A promenade?” he asked roughly, reaching for your hand without permission. “It’s a lovely afternoon, it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Oh, Mr. Berbrooke, we were just about to head home,” you pointed your head toward your sisters, panicked. 

Isabelle and Charlotte were far too immersed in their conversation to look like they were ready to head home, but you prayed that Nigel’s inebriated state would distract him from this.

He growled at you, clearly displeased at your rejection. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Montclair. Your dowry, as well as your other…assets, are far too good to pass up,” he slurred, very obviously staring at your chest. “It’s a shame Colin’s gotten to you first.”

You were scandalized, opening your mouth to chastise him, or to scream for help, or anything that could get you out of this situation, really, but he cut you off before you could say anything. 

"I've heard Lord Barlow abandoned you, and truth be told, it's hardly shocking," he taunted, his voice laced with disdain as he regarded you with a sneer. "You insist on playing the coy maiden, denying every man what he craves. It's the only reason they’re after you now, you see? They want what you didn't give Arthur. And it appears Colin has taken the lead in the chase, the lucky bastard."

His words brought you crashing back down to reality. Of course, he was colluding with Colin. You had conveniently overlooked that fact as you found yourself becoming bashful in his presence, feeling secure, even desiring his company after these recent days. A surge of bile rose in your throat.

You felt tears prickling in your eyes, and you were impossibly angry with yourself for forgetting the very reason you despised Colin Bridgerton. How could you have let yourself forget? He was still the same man you overheard at the Danbury ball, and you were too embarrassed to admit that his charm had worked on you. 

You were disgusted with Nigel and Colin, but also with yourself. You were more than this, you chided. How could you have let this happen? The two men were clearly no good, and you had unwittingly allowed yourself to be ensnared, much like you had with Lord Barlow.

“Excuse me,” you said roughly, dodging Mr. Berbrooke’s outstretched hand as you ran toward where Isabelle and Charlotte were standing, propriety be damned. 

“On va chez nous. Tout de suite,” you said to them urgently, practically begging as you tugged on Isabelle’s hand (We’re going home. Right now). 

Charlotte looked at you, confused, and then noticed you glancing nervously at Nigel as he approached, angrily staggering over to you as his face contorted into an ugly scowl. 

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry Mr. Berbrooke,” Isabelle said firmly, “but it seems we have to go.” 

Not waiting for a response, your sisters hooked their arms in yours and hurriedly walked back from where you came. They’d be damned if he let anything else happen to you after what happened with Lord Barlow, and they were not about to waste any time.

Nigel only grunted, displeased, but let the three of you go without protest. Both of your sisters’ husbands were very powerful men, and Nigel was not so deluded as to forget his place in society.

“Y/N?” Charlotte questioned softly once you were sufficiently far away enough. 

But you were too embarrassed, tears streaming down your face as you choked back sobs. How could you have let yourself fall for Colin’s charm? You knew exactly who he was, and you had ignored it anyway. It didn’t matter that he made you feel safe and that the two of you had more in common than you cared to admit. He would never respect you, and you could never love him. 

Nigel had come at just the right time, you thought sullenly. Right as you were thinking you could finally overlook your rivalry with Colin, right as the memory of why you disliked him in the first place was fading. And thank heavens he did. You would not be taken for a fool again, by Colin or by Lord Barlow or by anyone. 

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (get added here):

@marvelspogue @5sosmakesmelaugh5 @maddiebaddie1 @livingthatprovinciallife @willieoo @jessica-1120 @dreadity @h0eforwadewilson @ziarah @wordsgodeep @mrs-c-bridgerton @dianxiaxiexie @like-gabriel-and-castiel @snapeeballsack @sosasi521-blog @saturnssunflower @indecisive-empanada @invisible-dreamers-world @angerpearl @ssexsellls @smugrogerina @cherrysxuya @theonekaysstuff @idkwhatimdoing6 @ella33 @tiger1357890 @mswwvaleska @bozoqt @unadulteratedwolfcrown @anthonylockwoodandco111 @beamuont @adxrekyun @stevenwithav01 @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @patty2191 @expensiveinnocentgurl @erysione @hockeybabestars @inkwriter122 @nighttimemoonlover @chamomiletea-beforebed @alexendria-rose @watersevn @funalpaca @babypink224221 @littlecoffeeadict @agoldenwoe @sydneygal3107

[tavolgisvist]

Once upon a time…

JOHN: [Paul] even recorded that all by himself in the other room, that’s how it was getting in those days. We came in and he’d – he’d made the whole record. Him drumming, him playing the piano, him singing. Just because – it was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that, but he couldn’t – couldn’t – maybe he couldn’t make the break from The Beatles, I don’t know what it was…. But we’re all, I’m sure – I can’t speak for George, but I was always hurt when he’d knock something off without… involving us, you know? But that’s just the way it was then.

(August, 1980: interview for Playboy with David Sheff)

‘More than anything,’ he says, ‘I would love the Beatles to be on top of their form and for them to be as productive as they were. But things have changed. … I would have liked to have sung harmony with John, and I think he would have liked me to. But I was too embarrassed to ask him. And I don’t work to the best of my abilities in that situation.’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

PAUL: On 'Hey Jude', when we first sat down and I sang 'Hey Jude…', George went 'nanu nanu' on his guitar. I continued, 'Don't make it bad…' and he replied 'nanu nanu'. He was answering every line - and I said, 'Whoa! Wait a minute now. I don't think we want that. Maybe you'd come in with answering lines later. For now I think I should start it simply first.' He was going, 'Oh yeah, OK, fine, fine.' But it was getting a bit like that. He wasn't into what I was saying. In a group it's democratic and he didn't have to listen to me, so I think he got pissed off with me coming on with ideas all the time. I think to his mind it was probably me trying to dominate. It wasn't what I was trying to do - but that was how it seemed. This, for me, was eventually what was going to break The Beatles up. I started to feel it wasn't a good idea to have ideas, whereas in the past I'd always done that in total innocence, even though I was maybe riding roughshod.

I did want to insist that there shouldn't be an answering guitar phrase in 'Hey Jude' - and that was important to me - but of course if you tell a guitarist that, and he's not as keen on the idea as you are, it looks as if you're knocking him out of the picture. I think George felt that: it was like, 'Since when are you going to tell me what to play? I' in The Beatles too.' So I can see his point of view. But it burned me, and I then couldn't come up with ideas freely, so I started to have to think twice about anything I'd say - 'Wait a minute, is this going to be seen to be pushy?' - whereas in the past it had just been a case of, 'Well, the hell, this would be a good idea. Let's do this song called "Yesterday". It'll be all right.'

( The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

‘There’s no one who’s to blame. We were fools to get ourselves into this situation in the first place. But it’s not a comfortable situation for me to work in as an artist.’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

‘It simply became very difficult for me to write with Yoko sitting there. If I had to think of a line I started getting very nervous. I might want to say something like “I love you, girl”, but with Yoko watching I always felt that I had to come out with something clever and avant-garde. She would probably have loved the simple stuff, but I was scared.’ ‘I’m not blaming her, I’m blaming me. You can’t blame John for falling in love with Yoko any more than you can blame me for falling in love with Linda. We tried writing together a few more times, but I think we both decided it would be easier to work separately.’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

JOHN: "I was always waiting for a reason to get out of the Beatles from the day I filmed 'How I Won The War' (in 1966). I just didn't have the guts to do it. The seed was planted when the Beatles stopped touring and I couldn't deal with not being onstage. But I was too frightened to step out of the palace."

(John Lennon, Newsweek, September 29, 1980)

PAUL: As far as I was concerned, yeah, I would have liked the Beatles never to have broken up. I wanted to get us back on the road doing small places, then move up to our previous form and then go and play. Just make music, and whatever else there was would be secondary. But it was John who didn’t want to. He had told Allen Klein the new manager he and Yoko had picked late one night that he didn’t want to continue.

(Paul and Linda McCartney, interview for Playboy, December 1984)

PAUL: I must admit we'd known it was coming at some point because of his intense involvement with Yoko. John needed to give space to his and Yoke's thing. Someone like John would want to end The Beatles period and start the Yoko period; and he wouldn't like either to interfere with the other.

(The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

PAUL: I think, largely looking back on it, I think it was mainly John [who] needed a new direction – that he then went into, headlong, helter skelter, you know, he went right in there, doing all sorts of stuff he’d never done before, with Yoko. And you can’t blame him. Because he was that kind of guy, [the kind who] really wanted to live life and do stuff, you know. There was just no holding back with John. And it was what we’d all admired him for. So you couldn’t really say, “Oh, we don’t want you to do that, John. You should just stay with us.” We felt so wimpy, you know. So it had to happen like that.

(Paul McCartney, November, 1983, interview with DJ Roger Scott)

The Beatles split up? It just depends how much we all want to record together. I don’t know if I want to record together again. I go off and on it. I really do. The problem is that in the old days, when we needed an album, Paul and I got together and produced enough songs for it. Nowadays there’s three if us writing prolifically and trying to fit it all onto one album. Or we have to think of a double album every time, which takes six months. That’s the hang-up we have… I don’t want to spend six months making an album I have two tracks on. And neither do Paul or George probably. That’s the problem. If we can overcome that, maybe it’ll sort itself out. None of us want to be background musicians most of the time. It’s a waste. We didn’t spend ten years ‘making it’ to have the freedom in the recording studios, to be able to have two tracks on an album. This is why I’ve started with the Plastic Ono and working with Yoko… to have more outlet. There isn’t enough outlet for me in the Beatles. The Ono Band is my escape valve. And how important that gets, as compared to the Beatles for me, I’ll have to wait and see.

(John Lennon, New Musical Express December 13, 1969)

PLAYBOY: In most of his interviews, John said he never missed the Beatles. Did you believe him? PAUL: I don’t know. My theory is that he didn’t. Someone like John would want to end the Beatle period and start the Yoko period. And he wouldn’t like either to interfere with the other. As he was with Yoko, anything about the Beatles tended inevitably to be an intrusion. So I think he was interested enough in his new life to genuinely not miss us.

(Paul and Linda McCartney, interview for Playboy, December 1984)

Yoko: Paul began complaining that I was sitting too close to them when they were recording, and that I should be in the background. John: Paul was always gently coming up to Yoko and saying: "Why don't you keep in the background a bit more?" I didn't know what was going on. It was going on behind my back. Yoko: And I wasn't uttering a word. It wasn't a matter of my being aggressive. It was just the fact that I was sitting near to John. And we stood up to it. We just said, "No. It's simply that we just have to come together." They were trying to discourage me from attending meetings, et cetera. And I was always there. And Linda actually said that she admired that we were doing that. John: Paul even said that to me.

(John Lennon interviewed by Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld at the St. Regis Hotel, September 5, 1971)

Paul: They’re onto that thing. They just want to be near to each other. So I just think it’s just silly of me, or of anyone, to try and say to him, “No, you can’t,” you know. It’s like, ‘cause – okay, they’re – they’re going overboard about it, but John always does! And Yoko probably always does. So that’s their scene. You can’t go saying – you know, “Don’t go overboard about this thing. Be sensible about it. Don’t bring it to meetings.” It’s his decision, that. It’s – it’s none of our business, to start interfering in that. Even when it comes into our business, you still can’t really say much, unless – except, “Look, I don’t like it, John.” And then he can say, well, “Screw you,” or, “I like it,” or, “Well, I won’t do it so much,” or blablabla. Like, that’s the only way, you know. To tell John about that. Michael Lindsay-Hogg: Have you done that already? Paul: Well, I told him I didn’t like writing songs… with him and Yoko. Michael Lindsay-Hogg: Were you writing much more before she came around—? Paul: Oh yeah, sure. Michael Lindsay-Hogg: Or had you – cooled it a bit, then? Before her. Ringo: Before Yoko got there. Paul: Yeah, cooled it, cooled it. Sure. We’d cooled it because… not playing together. Ever since we didn’t play together… Michael Lindsay-Hogg: Onstage, you mean? Paul: Yes. With the band. Because we lived together, and we played together. We were in the same hotel, up at the same time every morning, doing this all day. And this – I mean, this, you know, it doesn’t matter what you do, [but] just as long as you’re this close all day, something grows, you know. In some ways. And when you’re not this close, only, just physically… something goes. Michael Lindsay-Hogg: Right. Paul: So then you can come together to record, and stuff, but you still sort of lose the… Actually, musically, you know, we really – we can play better than we’ve ever been able to play, you know. Like, I really think that. I think, like – we’re – we’re alright on that. It’s just that – being together thing, you know.

(Paul McCartney, Get Back sessions, 13 January, 1969)

What actually happened was, the group was getting very tense, it was looking like we were breaking up. One day, I came in and we had a meeting, and it was all Apple and business and Allen Klein, and it was getting very hairy, and no one was realy enjoying themselves. It was – we’d forgotten the music bit. It was just business. I came in one day and I said, “I think we should get back on the road, a bit like what you and I were talking about before, small band, go and do the clubs, sod it. Let’s get back to square one, let’s remember what we’re all about. Let’s get back.” And John’s actual words were, “I think you’re daft. And I wasn’t gonna tell you, but – we’re breaking the group up. I’m breaking the group up. It feels good. It feels like a divorce.” And he just sort of sat there, and all our jaws dropped.

(Paul McCartney, November, 1983, interview with DJ Roger Scott)

Wenner: You said you quit the Beatles first. John: Yes. Wenner: How? John: I said to Paul “I’m leaving.” John: I knew on the flight over to Toronto or before we went to Toronto: I told Allen I was leaving, I told Eric Clapton and Klaus that I was leaving then, but that I would probably like to use them as a group. I hadn’t decided how to do it – to have a permanent new group or what – then later on, I thought fuck, I’m not going to get stuck with another set of people, whoever they are. I announced it to myself and the people around me on the way to Toronto a few days before. And on the plane – Klein came with me – I told Allen, “It’s over.” When I got back, there were a few meetings, and Allen said well, cool it, cool it, there was a lot to do, businesswise you know, and it would not have been suitable at the time. Then we were discussing something in the office with Paul, and Paul said something or other about the Beatles doing something, and I kept saying “No, no, no” to everything he said. So it came to a point where I had to say something, of course, and Paul said, “What do you mean?” I said, “I mean the group is over, I’m leaving.” … So that’s what happened. So, like anybody when you say divorce, their face goes all sorts of colors. It’s like he knew really that this was the final thing…

(John Lennon, December 1970, interview with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone)

PAUL: But what wasn't too clever was this idea of: 'I wasn't going to tell you till after we signed the new contract.' Good old John – he had to blurt it out. And that was it. There's not a lot you can say to, 'I'm leaving the group,' from a key member. I didn't really know what to say. We had to react to him doing it; he had control of the situation.

(The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

Allen was there, and he will remember exactly and Yoko will, but this is exactly how I see it. Allen was saying don’t tell. He didn’t want me to tell Paul even. So I said, “It’s out,” I couldn’t stop it, it came out. Paul and Allen both said that they were glad that I wasn’t going to announce it, that I wasn’t going to make an event out of it. I don’t know whether Paul said “Don’t tell anybody,” but he was darned pleased that I wasn’t going to. He said, “Oh, that means nothing really happened if you’re not going to say anything.”

(John Lennon, December 1970, interview with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone)

And – that was it, really. And nobody quite knew what to say, and we sort of then, after that statement, we then thought, “Well… give it a couple of months. We may decide. I mean, it’s a little bit of a big act, to just break up like that. Let’s give it a couple of months. We might all just come back together.” And we talked for a couple of months, but it just was never going to be on.

(Paul McCartney, November, 1983, interview with DJ Roger Scott)

Postcard from John and Yoko to Paul from Danmark January 1970

John: George was on the session for Instant Karma, Ringo’s away and Paul’s – I dunno what he’s doing at the moment, I haven’t a clue. Interviewer: When did you last see him? John: Uh, before Toronto. I’ll see him this week actually, yeah. If you’re listening, I’m coming round.

(John Lennon interview 6th February, 1970)

Interviewer: What about the Beatles all together as a group? John: …You can’t pin me down because I haven’t got- there’s no- it’s completely open, whether we do it or not. Life is like that, whether I make another Plastic Ono album or Lennon album or anything is open you know, I don’t like to prejudge it. And I have no idea if the Beatles are working together again or not, I never did have, it was always open. If someone didn’t feel like it, that’s it. And maybe if one of us starts it off, the others will all come round and make an album you know.

(John Lennon interview 6th February, 1970)

Interviewer: Why do you think he [Paul] has lost interest in Apple? John: That’s what I want to ask him! We had a heavy scene last year as far as business was concerned and Paul got a bit fed-up with all the effort of business. I think that’s all it is. I hope so.

(John Lennon interviewed by Roy Shipston for Disc and Music Echo, February 28, 1970)

‘Anyway, I hung on for all these months wondering whether the Beatles would ever come back together again…and let’s face it I’ve been as vague as anyone, hoping that John might come around and say, “All right lads, I’m ready to go back to work…”

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

PAUL: For about three or four months, George, Ringo and I rang each other to ask: 'Well, is this it then?' It wasn't that the record company had dumped us. It was still a case of: we might get back together again. Nobody quite knew if it was just one of John's little flings, and that maybe he was going to feel the pinch in a week's time and say, 'I was only kidding.' I think John did kind of leave the door open. He'd said: 'I'm pretty much leaving the group, but…' So we held on to that thread for a few months, and then eventually we realised, 'Oh well, we're not in the band any more. That's it. It's definitely over.'

(The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

PAUL: I started thinking, 'Well, if that's the case, I had better get myself together. I can't just let John control the situation and dump us as if we're the jilted girlfriends.'

(The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

‘John’s in love with Yoko, and he’s no longer in love with the other three of us. And let’s face it, we were in love with the Beatles as much as anyone. We’re still like brothers and we have enormous emotional ties because we were the only four that it all happened to…who went right through those ten years. I think the other three are the most honest, sincere men I have ever met. I love them. I really do.’ ‘I don’t mind being bound to them as a friend. I like that idea. I don’t mind being bound to them musically, because I like the others as musical partners. I like being in their band. But for my own sanity, we must change the business arrangements we have…’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

‘Last year John said he wanted a divorce. All right, so do I. I want to give him that divorce. I hate this trial separation because it’s just not working. Personally, I don’t think John could do the Beatles thing now. I don’t think it would be good for him.’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

‘I told John on the phone the other day that at the beginning of last year I was annoyed with him. I was jealous because of Yoko, and afraid about the break-up of a great musical partnership. It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me.’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

John: Well, Paul rang me up. He didn't actually tell me he'd split, he said he was putting out an album [McCartney]. He said, "I'm now doing what you and Yoko were doing last year. I understand what you were doing." All that shit. So I said, "Good luck to yer."

(John Lennon interviewed by Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld at the St. Regis Hotel, September 5, 1971)

I think he claims that he didn’t mean that to happen but that’s bullshit. He called me in the afternoon of that day and said, “I’m doing what you and Yoko were doing last year.” I said good, you know, because that time last year they were all looking at Yoko and me as if we were strange trying to make our life together instead of being fab, fat myths. So he rang me up that day and said I’m doing what you and Yoko are doing, I’m putting out an album, and I’m leaving the group too, he said. I said good. I was feeling a little strange, because he was saying it this time, although it was a year later, and I said “good,” because he was the one that wanted the Beatles most, and then the midnight papers came out.

(John Lennon, December 1970, interview with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone)

Q: "Why did you decide to make a solo album?" PAUL: "Because I got a Studer four-track recording machine at home - practiced on it (playing all instruments) - liked the results, and decided to make it into an album." Q: "Were you influenced by John's adventures with the Plastic Ono Band, and Ringo's solo LP?" PAUL: "Sort of, but not really." Q: "Are all songs by Paul McCartney alone?" PAUL: "Yes sir." Q: "Will they be so credited: McCartney?" PAUL: "It's a bit daft for them to be Lennon/McCartney credited, so 'McCartney' it is." Q: "Did you enjoy working as a solo?" PAUL: "Very much. I only had me to ask for a decision, and I agreed with me. Remember Linda's on it too, so it's really a double act." … Q: "What has recording alone taught you?" PAUL: "That to make your own decisions about what you do is easy, and playing with yourself is very difficult, but satisfying." … Q: "Is this album a rest away from the Beatles or the start of a solo career?" PAUL: "Time will tell. Being a solo album means it's 'the start of a solo career…' and not being done with the Beatles means it's just a rest. So it's both." Q: "Is your break with the Beatles temporary or permanent, due to personal differences or musical ones?" PAUL: "Personal differences, business differences, musical differences, but most of all because I have a better time with my family. Temporary or permanent? I don't really know." Q: "Do you foresee a time when Lennon-McCartney becomes an active songwriting partnership again?" PAUL: "No." Q: "What do you feel about John's peace effort? The Plastic Ono Band? Giving back the MBE? Yoko's influence? Yoko?" PAUL: "I love John, and respect what he does - it doesn't really give me any pleasure." … Q: "What are your plans now? A holiday? A musical? A movie? Retirement?" PAUL: "My only plan is to grow up!"

(Paul McCartney, April 9th 1970, press release 'McCartney')

SCOTT: Did you not realize that this was going to happen to you after you’d been the one to actually do it, and say, “Right, that’s it”? PAUL: No – it’s – wrong. Wrong. Sorry. It wasn’t me, it was John. SCOTT: Well, he said it first, but he said it quietly, he didn’t let everybody know. PAUL: No no no no, but the point – what I’m talking about is, see, this is – see, I love this legend stuff, god, you know, you have to actually live with this stuff…

(Paul McCartney, November, 1983, interview with DJ Roger Scott)

Int: I asked Lee Eastman for his view of the split, and what it was that prompted Paul to file suit to dissolve the Beatles' partnership, and he said it was because John asked for a divorce. John Lennon: Because I asked for a divorce? That's a childish reason for going into court, isn't it?

(John Lennon interviewed by Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld at the St. Regis Hotel, September 5, 1971)

"And I've changed. The funny thing about it is that I think alot of my change has been helped by John Lennon. I sort of picked up on his lead. John had said, 'Look, I don't want to be that anymore. I'm going to be this.' And I thought, 'That's great.' I liked the fact he'd done it, and so I'll do it with my thing. He's given the okay. In England, if a partnership isn't rolling along and working -- like a marriage that isn't working-- then you have reasonable grounds to break it off. It's great! Good old British justice!

(Paul McCartney, Life Magazine, April 16, 1971)

‘… So, as a natural turn of events from looking for something to do, I found that I was enjoying working alone as much as I’d enjoyed the early days of the Beatles. I haven’t really enjoyed the Beatles in the last two years.’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

'Eventually,' McCartney recalled, 'I went and said, "I want to leave. You can all get on with Klein and everything, just let me out." Having not spoken to Lennon for several weeks, he sent him a letter that summer, pleading that the former partners 'let each other out of the trap'. As McCartney testified, Lennon 'replied with a photograph of himself and Yoko, with a balloon coming out of his mouth in which was written, "How and Why?" I replied by letter saying, "How by signing a paper which says we hereby dissolve our partnership. Why because there is no partnership." John replied on a card which said, "Get well soon. Get the other signatures and I will think about it.” Communication was at an end.’

(Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money, 2009 - P.88)

John phoned me once to try and get the Beatles back together again, after we’d broken up. And I wasn’t for it, because I thought that we’d come too far and I was too deeply hurt by it all. I thought, “Nah, what’ll happen is that we’ll get together for another three days and all hell will break loose again. Maybe we just should leave it alone.”

(Paul McCartney, November 1995 Club Sandwich interview)

Int.: … What else was Klein doing to try and lure Paul back? John Lennon: [laughs] One of his reasons for trying to get Paul back was that Paul would have forfeited his right to split by joining us again. We tried to con him into recording with us too. Allen came up with this plan. He said, "Just ring Paul and say, 'We're recording next Friday, are you coming?' " So it nearly happened. It got around that the Beatles were getting together again, because EMI heard that the Beatles had booked recording time again. But Paul would never, never do it, for anything, and now I would never do it.

(John Lennon interviewed by Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld at the St. Regis Hotel, September 5, 1971)

There’s no hard feelings or anything, but you just don’t hang around with your ex-wife. We’ve completely finished. ’Cos, you know, I’m just not that keen on John after all he’s done. I mean, you can be friendly with someone, and they can shit on you, and you’re just a fool if you keep friends with them. I’m not just going to lie down and let him shit on me again. I think he’s a bit daft, to tell you the truth. I talked to him about the Klein thing, and he’s so misinformed it’s ridiculous.

(Paul McCartney interviewed by student journalist Ian McNulty for the Hull University Torch, May 1972 [From The McCartney Legacy, Volume 1: 1969 – 1973 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2022)

JOHN: We’re not – we’re not fighting too much. It’s silly. You know I always remember watching the film with, uh – who was it? Not Rogers and Hammerstein. Those British people that wrote those silly operas years ago, who are they? WIGG: Gilbert and Sullivan? JOHN: Yeah, Gilbert and Sullivan. I always remember watching the film with Robert Morley and thinking, “We’ll never get to that.” [pause] And we did, which really upset me. But I never really thought we’d be so stupid. But we did. WIGG: What, like splitting like they did? JOHN: Like splitting and arguing, you know, and then they come back, and one’s in a wheelchair twenty years later— YOKO: [laughs] Yes, yes. JOHN: —and all that. [laughs; bleak] I never thought we’d come to that, because I didn’t think we were that stupid. But we were naive enough to let people come between us. And I think that’s what happened. [pause] But it was happening anyway. I don’t mean Yoko, I mean businessmen, you know. All of them. WIGG: What, do you think they were – do you think businessmen were responsible for the breakup? JOHN: Well, no, it’s like anything. When people decide to get divorced, you know, you just – quite often you decide amicably. But then when you get your lawyers and they say, “Don’t talk to the other party unless there’s another lawyer present,” then that’s when the drift really starts happening, and then when you can’t speak to each other without a lawyer, then there’s no communication. And it’s really lawyers that make… divorces nasty. You know, if there was a nice ceremony like getting married, for divorce, then it would be much better. Even divorce of business partners. Because it wouldn’t be so nasty. But it always gets nasty because you’re never allowed to speak your own mind, you have to talk in double-dutch, you have to spend all your time with a lawyer, and you get frustrated, and you end up saying and doing things that you wouldn’t really do under normal circumstances.

(John Lennon, Yoko Ono, October, 1971, St Regis Hotel, New York, interview with David Wigg)

Q: "If you got, I don't know what the right phrase is… 'back together' now, what would be the nature of it?" JOHN: "Well, it's like saying, if you were back in your mother's womb… I don't fucking know. What can I answer? It will never happen, so there's no use contemplating it. Even is I became friends with Paul again, I'd never write with him again. There's no point. I write with Yoko because she's in the same room with me." YOKO: "And we're living together." JOHN: "So it's natural. I was living with Paul then, so I wrote with him. It's whoever you're living with. He writes with Linda. He's living with her. It's just natural."

(John Lennon, Yoko Ono, St. Regis Hotel, New York, September 5th, 1971, interview with Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld)

'Dear Mailbag, In order to put out of its misery the limping dog of a news story which has been dragging itself across your pages for the past year, my answer to the question, “Will The Beatles get together again?” … is no.’

(Paul McCartney, Melody Maker, August 29, 1970)

‘Just tell the people I’ve found someone I like enough to want to spend all my time with. That’s me…the home, the kids and the fireplace.’

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

+ this

+ this

+ this

+ this

[ericshoney]

Baker ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: To celebrate your brothers' birthday you put your baking skills to the test.

Warnings: swearing, nicknames, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick, Matt and Chris were about to turn twenty-one. They had planned to have a special birthday in LA with their friends there before coming home to celebrate with you, your parents, Justin and Nate.

You wanted to do something special and had recently got into baking, something you found you were pretty good at. But you didn't want to make the guys just a regular cake, no, you went full force and worked on not one but three cakes. One for each triplet.

You had spent hours picking the perfect designs for each cake, making sure the flavours and colours matched each brother. Your mum helped you bake the cakes and pick some toppings but when it came to the overall finish, you worked all through the night before they landed.

When the triplets arrived in Boston, Justin went to greet them, sharing a brotherly handshake before getting in the car and driving home. Justin had told them how the house was decorated with twenty-first banners and balloons, making the guys laugh.

"Y/n has also been busy but that's a surprise." He added.

The trio shared a look, wondering what you had gotten up to. They knew you like to bake but that didn't cross their minds until they walked in and saw the three massive cakes with their names on.

Chris' was orange with mini Pepsi cans and Fresh Love all over it.

Matt's was blue with a massive Pokemon logo on top along with an Eeyore.

The Nick's was purple and had mini Space Camp lip balms on it along with different coloured Power Rangers on it.

Each cake also had a small gift bag in their designated colour next to it. When you came down from your room, the three smiled, hugging you tightly.

"This is fucking amazing kid!" Chris exclaimed.

"I'm glad you like them." You said with a wide smile.

"You just know what we like, don't you." Nick said, ruffling your hair as he checked out the cake.

"Of course, I'm your sister and pay attention." You replied with a giggle.

"What's with the bags, sweetheart?" Matt asked.

"A present for each of you." You answered.

"You didn't have to kid, the cakes are enough." Chris mentioned.

"Just open them you goofs." You said, making Justin laugh from the back.

They each opened their bag and smiled when they pulled out a framed photo with a special picture of them with you.

"Aww this is so cute!" Nick exclaimed, hugging you again.

"I remember this day as if it was yesterday." Chris said, holding the photo.

"We were boss." Matt said, laughing at his photo of you and him.

"Happy birthday you identical goofs." You said, being brought into another group hug.

"Thanks kid."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist

@mattsfavbigtitties @lgbtq-girl @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[save-the-villainous-cat]

may I request a really really really smart villain. but somehow the hero manages to outsmart them, and even though villain is completely dumbfounded, they find it incredibly hot???

gl, if you wish, but im fine with anything !!

“You’re scared,” the villain whispered. “I know what that feels like. I know what it can do to a person.”

Their fingertips traced the hero’s clavicle gently, as if they attempted to calm a startled deer by stoking it.

“It’s not a pleasant emotion. It certainly isn’t one anyone should be used to. So I’m curious, do you need my help?” the villain said. Their eyes scanned the hero curiously. Almost as if they could absorb everything about them just by looking at them.

Something about the hero seemed to pull them in, something seemed to fascinate them on a grand scale and the hero couldn’t tell if they loved the challenge or the attention.

“Would you mind?” the hero asked. They nodded towards the villain’s fingers on their body and clearly, the villain received their message. They pulled away and smiled. Curiosity seemed to be their big weakness.

“I apologise, of course. I’m fond of pretty things.”

“As every crow is.”

“That’s a compliment.” The hero didn’t answer. They knew the villain was toying with them; they were fully aware of their sweet words and their kind smile.

The villain wasn’t easy to understand and that was a big problem in this whole mess. Incompetent people proposed a threat to the city because of their lack of intelligence. They weren’t easy to understand, they were unpredictable.

Usually, the hero could argue with smart people, could get into their minds and understand their motives but the villain was a complete minefield. Their unpredictability came from several unrelated plans that intertwined and altogether made up a whole picture.

They were ten steps ahead. Always.

Suddenly, a missing professor, a burning bakery, a sick child and a stolen book were parts of a chain that would make sense to the hero much, much later. Ordinary things could play huge parts in these reaction chains, something they liked to call “controlled butterfly effect”. It made the hero think of all the details, all the little crimes in the city. It made them overanalyse every little conversation they had with the villain.

Was the villain giving them clues?

Was there a way to decipher these riddles?

How could anyone be at ten different places at the same time?

How was it possible to get information you’d have to torture out of people without actually talking to anyone at all?

“I’ll have to change my address for the third time this month,” the hero said. “You should apologise for that as well.”

“It’s not my fault you make it so easy for me.” The villain looked around the hero’s living room and in some weird and strange way, the hero felt superior to them, now that everything was done. It would’ve been foolish to say they were relieved. In fact, the villain was right. They were terrified. “New choice of plants, I see. You like orchids?”

“Why exactly are you here?” the hero asked. They assumed the villain knew about yesterday. They also assumed the villain was here to talk about that. “So you can make fun of me? Humiliate me in my own home?”

“Without an audience? Please, I thought you knew me.” The villain’s eyes found the hero’s again after what they deemed to be enough observation.

“You like it more intimate. You like it when it’s just us.” Now, the villain looked intrigued.

“Touché,” they said, almost as if the hero had defeated them with a single word. The hero wished it had been that easy.

“Again. Why are you here?” The hero crossed their arms in front of their chest. It was getting quite chilly in just a shirt and underwear.

In response, the villain took in a deep breath and sat down on the hero’s couch. They lounged.

“When Hannibal crossed the Alps, do you think he was scared? I mean, all that responsibility on his shoulders? It was dangerous, he could’ve lost his entire army.”

“Is this supposed to be some metaphor for me being Hannibal and you being…what? The Roman Republic?” the hero asked. Sometimes, it was laughable where the villain’s mind went. It was hard enough to keep up with them already but the amount of knowledge the hero acquired from talking to them alone was insane.

It was the type of learning experience that required failing repeatedly to get to the answer. The hero didn’t enjoy it.

But the villain only chuckled.

“I was trying to say that being determined and scared can coexist. You did something that demands great courage.” They tilted their head. “And yet, it is a very scary thing.”

With slow steps, the hero approached them until they were close enough. They sat down on the villain’s lap. Unsurprisingly, their nemesis didn’t protest.

They weren’t proud of what had happened, they weren’t proud of what they’d done.

“How can a person obtain information no one dares to whisper?” the hero asked. “How can that person receive it within seconds?”

“You tell me,” the villain said. An invitation. It would’ve been illogical to decline.

“You had two helpers. Someone who can teleport. Someone who can turn invisible. I don’t know how you convinced them but they were heroes once.”

The villain nodded.

“The Romans had to learn the hard way how important spies are. They learnt it from the Carthaginian. Like I learnt from you years ago,” the villain said. It was difficult to imagine that all this was the hero’s fault. “Now, tell me what you did when you found out.”

The hero was quiet until the villain’s palm brushed their thigh softly. The villain seemed unfittingly euphoric.

“I knew they wouldn’t be easy to keep in a cell.”

“So?”

“So I killed them.” The villain nodded.

“You killed them,” the villain agreed. “Did you know crows wait for other predators to tear open their prey?”

The hero waited. The villain wasn’t angry. They were fascinated. It hadn’t even occurred to the hero that this was the solution up until yesterday.

And still, even though this was a major success when it came to stopping the villain, it wasn’t satisfactory. Killing two of their own people hadn’t been pretty.

“Did you know curiosity killed the cat?” the hero asked back. Behind their back, they clenched their fist to stop their hand from shaking.

Within seconds, several red laser dots pointed at the villain. With the hero on their lap, pressing them into the couch, there wasn’t anywhere to go. The sharpshooters wouldn’t let the villain move a muscle.

And behind the shocked expression, the hero saw something they weren’t sure if they loathed or liked: a certain admiration for only them.

[awearywritersworld]

stay as long as you need

fushiguro toji x reader summary: toji can't stop hanging around his new neighbor, even though she has a boyfriend. oh well, he knows he's better for her anyway. w/c: 1.2k tags/warnings: hurt/comfort. angst to fluff. domestic violence perpetrated by reader's boyfriend, but nothing terribly graphic; the incident is discussed after the fact, not depicted. implied age gap. protective!toji. toji actually being nice. cliche "who did this to you" moment. fem!reader a/n: WHY IS HE SO HOT??????? I JUST WANT HIM TO TAKE CARE OF MEEEEEEEEE (OR CRUSH ME WITH HIS THIGHS, IM NOT PICKY) on a less unhinged note, thanks for reading!! masterlist

"need some help?"

you nearly jump upon hearing the words, having been lost in your own little world. when you turn around, you're met with a dark haired, well built man and just the sight of him makes your cheeks feel hot.

"oh, i- um," you glance between him and the heavy box in your hands.

he's already taking it from you though, effortlessly balancing it in one hand before opening the door for you with the other.

"thanks," you squeak out, stepping inside your new apartment building.

he smirks down at you, eyes raking over your body. toji isn't exactly the good samaritan type, but for a pretty little thing like you, he can certainly make an exception.

the elevator button lights up when he presses it. "just moving in?"

"yup! third floor. getting everything up there has been quite the ordeal, so i appreciate your help," you explain sweetly.

when the metal doors slide open, he lets you step inside first.

"hm, all by yourself? no boyfriend in the picture?" well, the sorcerer killer has never been one for subtly.

"yeah, actually," you return sheepishly. "he's just out with his friends at the moment."

"that so?" you don't see the look of judgement that crosses his face, though it isn't at all directed toward you.

once you emerge on your floor, toji follows along just a step behind you. he can't help his amusement when you stop at your door. "would you look at that. i guess we're neighbors now."

his head nods toward his own apartment, just two doors down from yours. "oh good! i'm glad this wasn't too far out of your way."

"don't worry about it, wouldn't have been any trouble either way."

you offer him a bashful smile before your door clicks open, revealing quite a few boxes just inside. "you can just put that anywhere, don't mind the mess.. i'm (y/n), by the way."

"toji." he places it on top of one of the other boxes, honestly impressed that you managed to get so many upstairs by yourself. "can i have your car keys?"

he thinks the look of confusion that crosses your features is just too cute. "what for?"

he chuckles because it should be obvious, but clearly you aren't used to being taken care of. "to get the rest of your boxes, princess."

~~~

the next afternoon, toji answers a knock at his door and finds you on the other side. you've got a plate of fresh cookies in your hand, which you shyly offer to the tall man. "these are for you. thank you so much for all your help yesterday! i couldn't have done it without you."

"thanks, you didn't have to," he tells you, although he's happy you did. when he pulls them from your grasp, his hands brush yours. he invites you in, insisting he can't enjoy them alone, but really he just wants to get to know you.

and he does. over the next few weeks, you spend a surprising amount of time in one another's company. whenever he bumps into you in the hall, he'll chat with you for a while, even (or, especially) when he's running late to a job.

one day you mention that a shelf you ordered came disassembled, so he offers to come over and put it together for you. of course you show up at his door the next day with a new plate of cookies.

another morning, toji groans when he discovers that he's out of tea, but quickly realizes it's the perfect excuse to knock on your door. when it swings open, he swallows thickly, taking in your tiny shorts and thin tank top. it was obvious you'd just woken up.

you're no better than he is with the way your eyes trail over his fitted tshirt, then down to the sweatpants that hang loosely around his waist. you're both too preoccupied staring to notice the other doing the same.

"mornin', sleepy beauty," he says with a lopsided grin.

"good morning, toji." you return his smile, your greeting a saccharine melody to his ears. oh, the things he'd do to have you all to himself.

he explains his predicament and you're more than happy to invite him inside. you both sit at your kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and chatting about your day. the domesticity off it all leaves a pleasant taste in his mouth, which is bizarre seeing as up until a few weeks ago, he'd have found the thought down right repulsive.

but he just can't get you out of his head. you're too sweet for your own good, too young to know what you deserve in a man, and he's more than willing to show you.

he knows you're not available, but makes no attempt to stifle his growing fondness toward you. after all, he'd only ever seen your boyfriend once.

you were returning from a rare afternoon out just as he was leaving to pick up something for lunch. you looked so good in your cute little dress that he hardly even noticed your boyfriend at first.

"hey, (y/n)," toji greeted you. "who's this?"

he didn't give you a chance to speak, just pulled you into his side. "her boyfriend."

"ah," he leered, his nose crinkled. "i wasn't sure since i never see you around."

your eyes flickered between the two men somewhat nervously. toji towered over your boyfriend, a feat he took great satisfaction in.

a humorless laugh came from your left. "prefer to have her over at my place."

toji didn't respond right away, just looked down at you, taking note of your quietness. he briefly recalled the time you mentioned how much it bothered you that your boyfriend never came to visit, that you always had to make the effort.

"right.. well, you're a lucky man." he looked much more smug by then, his head falling to the side. "your girl has the best cookies around."

toji moves past both of you without waiting for a reply, roughly clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder. "see you around, (y/n)."

~~~

nearly two weeks later, toji's leaving his apartment late in the evening, as his current job can really only be taken care of during the nighttime hours. he doesn't expect to see many people in the halls, so he's surprised to find you at your apartment door.

the hood of your sweatshirt is pulled over your head, obscuring your face from his view. "(y/n)?"

you don't respond, so he takes a step toward you. it's only then he notices the way your hands are trembling, struggling with the lock. he reaches out, but when his fingers brush your arm, you jump back as if you'd been completely oblivious to his presence.

"hey-" he begins to say, but stops once he sees your face. his eyes darken and his jaw tenses, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as a result.

your cheekbone is bright red, a small cut stretching across the center of the mark. your eyes watch him, wide and fearful, and you're all but frozen in place.

"who did this to you?"

he's struggling to keep his composure, the sight of your bruised face enough to have his heart hammering away angrily in his chest. you look away, tears forming in your eyes, and you can't bring yourself to respond.

"was it him?" he presses.

you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to keep from crying. "i-it's okay, though. he didn't mean it, really, and-"

"look me in the face and try that again."

you meet his gaze, somewhat unwillingly, and whimper. "i.. i can't."

he sighs quietly, his job already forgotten for the night, and moves toward you. he remembers how you flinched away from him just moments ago. "..can i touch you?"

you nod once more and he hesitantly pulls you against his chest. it's getting harder and harder to keep your emotions in check, especially with the slow circles his hand is drawing on your back.

"i was so scared, toji," you finally admit, voice barely above a whisper.

"i know, but you're safe now. won't let 'im touch you ever again," he promises, fully intent on keeping it.

his words push you over the edge and you grab at his shirt as you begin to weep, your knees buckling beneath you. he supports your weight, rocking you back and forth. "you're okay. it's going to be okay."

after a minute or two, he finally hears you take a shaky breath and relief fills his chest at the sound. "see? just like that, baby. in and out."

you do as he says and after a few more breaths, he pulls away from you and takes your hand. "c'mon. let's get you cleaned up."

leading you into his apartment, he goes straight to the bathroom. you gasp when he grabs you by the hips and hoists you up onto the counter before searching for his first aid kit. when he pulls it down from the cabinet, he moves to stand between your legs.

grabbing you by the chin, he tilts your head to get a better look your injury. the redness is already transitioning to a darker hue and he knows it'll look even worse tomorrow.

"gonna clean the cut, okay? it might sting."

"okay," you sniffle.

he rips open an alcohol wipe, dabbing it gently against your cheekbone. when you wince in pain, he offers a quiet apology, but he's finished before long, having applied a bit of ointment as well.

"thank you," you murmur.

both of his hands find your thighs, resting on the area just above your knees. "don't thank me. not for this."

there's an edge to his voice, but you know it's not directed toward you. your hands settle on top of his own, quelling his anger for the time being.

"you know," he grunts, his gaze lingering on your cheek before it shifts toward your eyes. "i could never lay a hand on you."

his expression is much softer now than it was in the hallway and he savors the small smile that tugs at your lips. "i know, toji."

as he looks down at you, he knows he's done for. hell, he's known it for a while now. you deserve to be adored. taken care of. made to feel good... and toji is more than confident in his ability to do so.

for a fleeting moment, he considers the fact it wouldn't be hard to find out where your boyfriend lives, to make sure he never raises a hand to you again, but your gentle voice pulls him from his thoughts.

"can i stay with you tonight?" you ask meekly.

"yeah, 'course.. you can stay as long as you need."

jjk taglist: @torusmochi