#the beginning of an awesome ride

[hawleywilby]

[threadmonster]

I am gonna have an unfun end to pride month so if anyone wants to wish my luck in formally coming out to my mother feel free to do so! (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

[ace-king]

I am not the original artist. The person up top is. Also, I just wanted to spread this around because I love it. 

FIN. thats a wrap guys!

START | PREVIOUS

Speedrun/Timetravel AU masterlist

[fastandcarlos]

Since Day One : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: since the very beginning you’ve been by lando’s side supporting his career

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 3,850 others

landonorris: goodbye karting, thank you for everything. looking forward to getting into the world of formula racing next year ❤️

382 comments

username1: can’t believe you’re moving on from karting, big things are coming!

ynusername: so proud of you, even if I’m gutted not to be riding around in a go kart every week from now on 💔

landonorris: @/ynusername you haven’t seen nothing yet, just wait for those f1 hot laps 😘

username2: only a matter of time until we see you line up on that f1 grid now ☺️

charles_leclerc: end of a karting era, but hopefully many more races for us to come!

landonorris: @/charles_leclerc we’ll both be on that podium one day…I’m sure of it!!

username3: so deserving of the new things coming your way ❤️

georgerussell63: hopefully be lining up on the grid with you very soon 🤞🏻

olivernorris1: congrats bro, looking forward to the free trips to some more hot destinations 😂☀️

landonorris: @/olivernorris1 and here i was thinking you were flying out to support me…

username4: still gonna be your biggest fan!!

maxverstappen1: about time you gave someone else a go at winning a karting race 😂

username5: can’t wait to see where you go from here 🫶🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, charles_leclerc and 13,968 others

landonorris: buzzing to get my first formula 2 win, thanks to the whole team for all your support so far this season. hopefully the first of many 💪🏻🏆

1,840 comments

ynusername: you’re incredible, my race winner 🥺

landonorris: @/ynusername can’t wait to show this trophy off to you when I get home 💞

username6: first win of many gotta good feeling for this season ❤️

charles_leclerc: turns out you’re just as good at karting as you are formula 2 😂👏🏻

username7: so deserved lando, hope you celebrate hard tonight!

georgerussell63: yes lando!! a jolly good race indeed my friend 🏆

username8: a white race suit and champagne, someone in the team needs speaking to 🤦🏻‍♀️

alex_albon: someone get zak brown on speed dial asap 📞

landonorris: @/alex_albon let’s not get too excited, it’s only one race…so far!

alex_albon: @/landonorris the first of many my friend!

username9: if driver of the day was a thing, you’d get my vote 🤩

username10: that smile is my new favourite thing in the world!!

adam_norris_pure_electric: good job son, so proud of you back over here at home 🤍

username11: can’t wait to see how many more wins you get this year 🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon and 58,402 others

landonorris: first couple of weeks with mclaren done, safe to say carlando is off to a good start 😝🧡

9,497 comments

username12: carlando are officially my otp btw 🧡🫶🏻

charles_leclerc: it’s a miracle you two get anything done when you’re in the same room!

username13: i can already tell this pairing is gonna be trouble!!

alex_albon: looks like you don’t need me anymore 😭

landonorris: @/alex_albon team rookies forever 💯

username14: whoever decided that these two should be on the same team deserves a pay rise immediately 😂

mclaren: admin thanks you both for constantly giving her such a headache 🧡

username15: have you ever met two more well paired drivers in your life??

ynusername: *currently googling what to do when you feel like the third wheel in your own relationship…*

carlossainz55: @/ynusername he’s mine now 😘

landonorris: @/ynusername ignore him, I promise you’re still my number one 💞

username16: forever refreshing my feed in search of carlando content 🥺

username17: can we get these two to sign lifetime contracts at all!?

zbrownceo: you’ve been awesome so far and ik you’ll continue to be too!

username18: i love how carlos us taken lando completely under his wing in f1 😭

carlossainz55: couldn’t imagine my life without you sweetie ❤️

landonorris: @/carlossainz55 stop otherwise you’ll make yn jealous again!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 28,048 others

ynusername: finally managed to get to my first f1 race, so proud to see you do your thing in person lan 💞

2,960 comments

landonorris: so glad you were able to come and cheer me on, you’re definitely a good luck charm now 🫶🏻

username19: you looked stunning in the paddock, lando is one lucky guy!!

alex_albon: you’re not allowed to leave it so long next time, I didn’t realise how much i missed you!!

carmenmmundt: so happy to finally meet you, hopefully see you again soon girlie!

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt who cares what the boys say, we’re double dating asap 🫶🏻

username20: you two are just beyond stunning together 🤩

charles_leclerc: i still remember you being one of a handful of people watching us in karts all those years ago 💭

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc so proud of all you guys 💕

username21: silently praying for a yn appearance at every race from here on in 🙏🏻

carlossainz55: still secretly think you were coming to spy on me 👀

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 gotta find a way to stop you stealing my boyfriend somehow…

username22: from karting to f1, she’s really been by his side through it all!

mclaren: thank you for helping us keep lando under control for the weekend - admin 🧡

username23: hope you had the best time yn 💞

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 174,494 others

landonorris: first podium baby 🏆🥳

thank you to everyone in austria and back at the mtc for all your hard work. fans, friends, family and yn for always cheering me on and reminding me that i can do this 💕🧡

38,508 comments

username24: I don’t think I’ve ever been this proud in my entire life 🥺

alex_albon: the little go karter on an f1 podium 🤧

username25: idk how you did it but that was incredible, fastest lap too!!

carlossainz55: I feel like a proud father rn 🥺

username26: thank you for reminding us that mclaren can achieve podiums again 🧡

maxverstappen1: gutted I couldn’t be up there with you today

landonorris: @/maxverstappen1 next time we’ll be up there together like the old days!

mclaren: everyone at mclaren is so proud of you lando 🧡🏎️

username27: only got the podium thanks to a time penalty anyway 🙄

username28: @/username27 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

ynusername: have I mentioned yet just how proud I am of you?? 💞

username29: love how he gave a special mention to yn too 🥺

zbrownceo: the perfect stepping stone to get you to p1, I know we can do it 💪🏻

username30: hope you get used to being up on that podium, you’re gonna be there often!

georgerussell63: super drive buddy!!

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liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 38,497 others

ynusername: turns out monaco is the life after all, a whole new world but absolutely loving it 🥺

4,969 comments

username31: just goes to show just how much lando means to you remember!

landonorris: thank you for making such a huge sacrifice for me, i promise we’ll have the best time living out here together 😘

ynusername: @/landonorris anything to help make your dreams come true ✨

username32: look at them out here living their best lives

carmenmmundt: our next coffee date is when??? ☕️

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt I’m omw to you rn 🏃🏻‍♀️

alexandrasaintmleux: @/ynusername @/carmenmmundt make that three 🫶🏻

username33: the muscles in that first photo, yn you can’t do that to us without warning…

georgerussell63: thank you for finally giving me some proper competition playing padel 🏸

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 I did try to warn you that lando was rubbish

username34: yn always happy to satisfy the boyfriend lando fans ✨

adam_norris_pure_electric: we are so relieved that you’re out there with him 😂

ynusername: @/adam_norris_pure_electric this apartment would not still be standing without me 😂

username35: I cannot stress how obsessed I am with these two!!

maxverstappen1: I love that you’re now on our doorstep so I can constantly annoy you 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 42,950 others

ynusername: first holiday in a while with you 🛥️🏝️

7,597 comments

carlossainz55: missing my two favourite people right now

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 thank you honorary third wheel 😘

username36: no one deserves this rest more than you two 💞

danielricciardo: it’s not a true holiday cause I’m not there 🤷🏻‍♂️

landonorris: @/danielricciardo that’s what makes it such a good holiday

username37: summer break looks good on you two!!

maxverstappen1: so glad you guys are enjoying that place!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 thanks for such a great reccomendation! ☺️

username38: remember when everyone was obsessed with these two as karting teens, now look at them… 😭

oscarpiastri: shame he doesn’t look like he’s missing me at all 💔

iamrebeccad: wishing that I could look as good as you rn 🥺

username39: it’s not fair how good two people can look…

landonorris: the best time away with you 💕

username40: forever refreshing my feed for another gorgeous update of these two

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 2,968,573 others

landonorris: the moment I’ve dreamt of for so many years, officially a race winner! thank you to every single person who has contributed to my career over the years, this one’s for you 🏎️🧡🏆

458,360 comments

username41: apologies to my neighbours for screaming so loud the entire street could hear

ynusername: wish I could’ve been there more than anything, can’t wait to celebrate with you when you’re home 💞

landonorris: @/ynusername I still felt you here cheering me on 🫶🏻

oscarpiastri: awesome drive, the only way for us right now is up

↗️

landonorris: @/oscarpiastri we’re chasing them down brother 💪🏻

carlossainz55: I always knew this moment would come one day for you 👏🏻

username42: asking for a friend…is it acceptable to cry when it’s not even you on the podium???

danielricciardo: about damn time 😂 super race today brother!!

username43: words can’t begin to explain how proud I am to be your fan lando norris

alex_albon: who’d have thought those two kids almost a decade ago would end up here 🥺

username44: so proud of how far you’ve come since the beginning lando!

zbrownceo: could barely contain myself on the pit lane, congratulations lando 🧡

charles_leclerc: such an honour to be up there with you 🏎️

username45: it’s been a long time coming, hopefully the platform for many more wins now ☺️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 60,597 others

ynusername: second time’s the charm! so proud of you lando and so proud to be there this time cheering you on with all your family. you’re so deserving of this moment…I couldn’t be any prouder of you ✨💕

14,974 comments

landonorris: I could never have got this far without you, thank you for always loving me angel since day one 🧡

georgerussell63: he’s not stopped telling people all weekend how happy he is to have you here btw 😂

username46: how do you two still manage to melt my heart like this!?

lilyzneimer: so happy for lan 👏🏻 and so happy you got to be there to see him win this time too!!

lilymhe: you looked so cute during those celebrations bby

username47: only yn and cisca would stand out in that crowd to surprise him 😂

oscarpiastri: at least I didn’t have to listen to him mope about how much he wanted you there this time

username48: I love the relationship yn has with all his family 🥺

mclaren: admin would also like to reiterate what oscar had to say too 😂

username49: I can’t begin to imagine how excited lando must’ve been to have his whole family there

danielricciardo: was it ever in doubt??

ynusername: @/danielricciardo that’s cause he learnt from the best 😉

username50: you must be so proud yn seeing his hard work firsthand ☺️

carlossainz55: so good to see you and catch up under such awesome circumstances 🧡

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[princegaza]

🚨🚨🚨Save us quickly we are dying

🍉🍉🍉 Hey, 🌹 awesome Tumblr community, 🇵🇸

Everyone must participate and repost so that the voice of This little boy from the midst of the destruction in Gaza City reaches Ayana, her followers, and all donors and supporters.

Thank you, Ayana, @2spirit-0spoons her fans, and her followers for their continued support of the donation campaign for Amjad Al-Shaltawi’s family, and we call on them to continue supporting and re-participating until the campaign achieves its goal and we are able to reunite the family, evacuate them from under the bombing, reach a safe place, and escape genocide.

Thank you, Ayana, @2spirit-0spoons her fans, and her followers for their continued support of the donation campaign for Amjad Al-Shaltawi’s family, and we call on them to continue supporting and re-participating until the campaign achieves its goal and we are able to reunite the family, evacuate them from under the bombing, reach a safe place, and escape genocide.

@2spirit-0spoons

they have been verified on @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi list of vetted fundraisers here (#250, line 254)

@heba-20 @soon-palestine @ibtisams-blog @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl ا @northgazaupdates2 @fallahifag @fairuzfan @sar-soor @90-ghost @hellspawnen @aroacekittywrites @ttohrus @proheromidoriyashouto @quagsiredoesnotfuck @turian @iamjustthinkin @genera1kenobi @fireyfobbitmedicine @tasteofyourblood @lesbianmaxevans @chimney-begins @ratmanwalking @aleksstroud @shellofashadow @ibtisams-blog @buttercuparry @wlwaerith @vetted-gaza-funds @sayruq @ripe @straycatj @thunderstruck9 @haflacky @catasters @northgazaupdates2 @northwezt @northernsiberiawinds @el-shab-hussein

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Manly Guard Dog

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: You've been asking your husband for a dachshund, but he tells you that you need a manly dog. When the K9 unit gets a new recruit, Tim reevaluates his view of dachshunds.

Warnings: teasing/banter, pure fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Tim?” you whisper over your dimmed phone screen. “Are you asleep?”

“That depends,” your husband Tim answers. “Why?”

“Look at this.”

“I’m asleep.”

You roll your eyes at his poor attempt to avoid talking to you, even though it is the middle of the night and he has to be at the station in the morning. Despite feeling bad for waking him up, you know he’s awake and need to ask him something important.

“Tim, it hurts,” you add.

“What hurts?” he asks as he sits up quickly. After he pushes up onto his hands, Tim leans toward you and reaches over you to turn on the lamp on your nightstand.

“Look,” you repeat, extending your phone toward Tim so he can see the dog on the screen. “It hurts because I don’t have one of my own.”

“A dachshund? We’re back to this again?” Tim asks incredulously.

“Tim, I want a dog.” Your words are emphasized by your pout, but Tim only grunts as he turns the light off and lies down again.

“If we ever get a dog - big if,” Tim murmurs, “it has to be a manly dog. One that can protect you when I’m not here.”

“We can train a dachshund to be a guard dog,” you argue. “They’re vigilant, loyal, vocal, and easy to train. Tim, it would be perfect and so cute!”

Tim tosses an arm over your waist and kisses your temple before he responds, “Go to sleep.”

As you move closer to him to do just that, he whispers, “I love you, but we’re not getting a wiener dog.”

“Tim, Tim, Tim!” Lucy calls as Tim exits the locker room the following morning. “Oh, you’re not going to believe this.”

“Then don’t tell me,” Tim deadpans.

“So, there’s a new K9, right?” Lucy begins as they walk toward the bullpen.

“And you’re telling me.”

“The trainer brought Officer Fuzz over. Cutest name ever, I know. But when we heard that they were working with a new breed we thought it would be a husky or something. It’s not. It’s so much better. Guess what it is, Tim!”

Tim stops in the middle of the bullpen. A crowd of officers surrounds the K9 trainer, and between two cops, Tim can barely make out the shape of…

“A dachshund?” Tim asks loudly.

“Yes!” Lucy cheers. “Isn’t it awesome?!”

“I can’t believe this.”

“C’mon,” Lucy urges, pulling Tim along by his arm. “Meet Officer Fuzz.”

Tim squats to pet the friendly dog and shakes his head at the tiny K9 vest he’s wearing.

“Nice to meet you, Fuzz,” Tim mumbles. “My wife’s never going to let me hear the end of this, pal.”

“Bradford,” Wade calls from the other side of the circle. “How would you like to take them out for a ride along?”

Tim stands as the trainer adds, “I’d love to join one of the best officers in the field to test Officer Fuzz’s progress.”

“Sure,” Tim answers through gritted teeth. “But are dachshunds really worth anything in a job like this?”

The trainer and Officer Fuzz follow Tim toward his shop, and Tim can’t help but watch the small dog walk happily through the station on his first day.

“If they’re trained right, they certainly can. They’re bred to hunt badgers by tracking scents and entering their burrows. A lot of those skills translate to police dog responsibilities. Basically, because of their intimidating bark, alertness, devotion, braveness and stubbornness - courtesy of their hunting instincts - they’re perfect. Fuzz here can scare a suspect or locate bombs, drugs, you name it.”

“Scare suspects until they see him, you mean,” Tim points out.

“Well, Bradford. Let’s test your theory.”

“LAPD!” Tim yells. “On the ground!”

Behind him, Officer Fuzz barks.

“Is that a dog?” the suspect attempting to steal a sports car asks. “Your car doesn’t say K9.”

“Show me your hands and drop to your knees!” Tim repeats. “Or I can call my K9 partner over here.”

The man seems to weigh his options, then drops his tool and raises his hands over his head.

“Scared of dogs?” Tim asks.

“Police dogs are crazy dangerous, man. Scared is smart, that’s what my-“

“I don’t care who said it,” Tim interjects before he begins reciting the Miranda rights.

When Tim opens the back door of his car, Officer Fuzz growls lowly before barking once.

“Whoa! I’m not sitting by that thing!”

“See the barrier? That’s for your safety, not ours,” Tim says. “Now get in.”

At lunch, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and begins to type. He hesitates, however, and looks away before he can finish the search.

“Chen!” he calls, waving for Lucy to join him. “Where can I adopt a dachshund?”

Lucy’s eyes widen in excitement before she asks, “You’re getting a dog?!”

“I’m getting my wife a dog.”

“Because of Officer Fuzz,” Lucy states (not asks).

“No,” Tim defends. “No, I just… Dachshunds are a good option for family pets and protection.”

“Which you know because of Officer-“

“Fine, yes,” Tim admits quickly. “Do you know where I can adopt one or not?”

“Maybe you should ask the K9 trainers,” Lucy suggests. “They’ll know where to get a good one.”

“Thanks, Lucy.”

“Sure thing.” Lucy stands to return to her partner, but not before she says, “And I’m glad you’re finally listening to your wife.”

“No, quiet,” Tim commands. “Good. Now, sit.”

“Tim?” you call from the front door.

“Uh, one second!” Tim calls.

He sounds frazzled, and you walk toward his voice before you stop. Tim is whispering to someone, but you can’t make out what he’s saying before the bedroom door opens.

“Hi,” you greet. “Are you okay?”

“You’re home early,” he replies, gripping the doorknob tightly.

You glance at the time on your phone and say, “No, I’m not.”

Tim’s brows furrow as he looks at his watch. He nods, then laughs and locks eyes with you.

“Am I interrupting something?” you ask.

“No, well, yes, but no.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Tim sighs and reaches toward you. You don’t hesitate to step forward and lay your hand on his. With his hand wrapped around yours, Tim leads you into the bedroom, and inside, a brown blur races toward you.

“Tim!” you exclaim as the long-haired dachshund puts its front paws on your leg and wags its tail happily. “A dachshund!”

“Canis lupus familiarias. The K9 trainer that helped me out told me all about them,” he explains.

“Is he…” You trail off, unprepared to hear a negative answer.

“He’s ours,” Tim answers happily. “He’s already been obedience trained and I’m going to work with him to create the smallest but mightiest guard dog you’ve ever seen.”

You pull the dog into your arms and hug him kindly before you lean against Tim’s chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper, looking into Tim’s eyes.

“Sorry I said no for so long.”

“What changed your mind?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and you turn your attention to your new pet, or guard dog as Tim introduced him to you.

“Was it Lucy? I bet it was Lucy,” you whisper to the dog.

“It was Officer Fuzz,” Tim grumbles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Officer who?”

“New K9 who I’m sure you’ll meet next time you visit the station.”

“I love you.”

Tim kisses your head before he asks, “Wait, me or the dog?”

[deantfwinchester]

Neighborhood Walgreens

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader like always

This one takes place before the other two timeline-wise, I guess - just a few months into knowing each other. No established relationship, and some ridiculous flirting.

Summary: A busy, sick Joel gets a little care from the people in his life - including the neighbor and friend he's been crushing on for the past few months.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff-fluffity-fluff. Bout to get a standing root canal appointment, tbh.

A/N: The bulleted fics are piling up in the notes app, but boy are the well-crafted girlies a bit of a trek. More to come, if the functioning part of my brain has anything to say about it.

Word Count: 5.9k. absolute unit.

——————————————————————————————

Joel wakes up feeling like shit. He’d felt a bit of a scratch in his throat the night before, but tried to write it off as allergies or something - until he woke himself up coughing before his alarm could even go off. He knows he has a cold the second he tries to breathe through his nose - no dice. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it’s pounding before he can open his eyes. He shivers when he moves the blankets aside to get up, and each muscle in his body begs him to crawl back into bed.

Ever the trooper, he rises anyway, heading to the bathroom and checking the medicine cabinet to find what he’d feared - no cold medicine. Awesome. Resigning himself to trucking through the day, he blows his nose, pops a couple tylenol, and gets ready. His respiratory system isn’t too fond of the assault, however, and he’s coughing up a lung before he can finish. Today should be fun. He’ll need to stop by the drugstore on his way home. 

Once he’s dressed for the day (trying his best to look alive), Joel trudges down the stairs to see Sarah at the kitchen table, half-eaten bowl of cereal in one hand and a pencil in the other as she finishes the last of her homework. She hears him shuffle in and looks up just as he sniffles, locking eyes right before he can still his features into a facade of rested wellness. The  look on her face tells him he’s not getting away without worrying her, and he hates that. She doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to the coffee pot, she just watches him, only speaking up when he shivers at the mug’s warmth in his hands. The weather’s typical for an early autumn morning, but nowhere near chilly. Though the temperature should drop today with rain in the forecast, Sarah knows her dad and he’s never cold. 

“You know, I could just head next door. I guarantee she’d be happy to drive me,” she says smiling into her textbook, trying to be nonchalant with her concern. She was referring to you, their neighbor of a few months now, who’d given Sarah rides, helped her with homework, or checked in on her when Joel needed. You’d been around since the day you moved in, and neither of them could complain — certainly not Joel. Maybe she was hoping to fluster him a bit as well, suspecting his feelings for you were a bit more than the friendship he insists they are. 

He chokes on his coffee and coughs a little, shaking his head as she closes her book and begins leafing through her notes. Joel’s been worried enough lately that he’s taking advantage of your kindness too much — afraid he’s inconveniencing you and you’re too nice to say no, despite your insistence to help on more than one occasion. Besides, he already feels crappy, the last thing he wants today is for you to see him like this, hardly able to keep himself together. Or worse, to get you sick as well. Absolutely not. He opens his mouth to respond, but she speaks first. “It’s not like she hasn’t before. Maybe just one day? You need…,” she trails off, losing the battle with her expression as her eyebrows knit together and she notes the pallor and exhaustion on his own.

He takes a swig of his coffee hoping it will soothe the growing soreness in his throat before responding, “That’s alright kiddo, I-,” but the words catch in his throat before he can finish, and he cuts himself off coughing harshly into his elbow. Sarah grabs a glass and fills it with water while he coughs, longer than he has all morning, and hands it to him when he catches his breath. The look on her face is challenging now — she knows she won’t win this game, but she’ll still put up a fight. Predictably, Joel continues his previous thought as though unfazed by the fit, though his voice tells another story. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, babygirl,” he says hoarsely, waving her off with a sniffle. “You got a science test today, worry about that. You feelin’ ready?,” he asks, subverting talk of both his illness and mentions of you.

Sarah relents with a sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, gesturing to the textbook and notes on the table. He’s more confident than she is, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You’ve got it down, not a doubt in my mind. Now finish getting your stuff together before we’re late. I’ll get the car runnin’,” he says, moving his coffee to a travel thermos before grabbing her lunch from the refrigerator and getting it packed up. She looks back at him hesitantly before leaving the room to gather the last of her school stuff. 

Joel’s got his coffee in hand and Sarah’s lunch in the seat next to him as he waits in the truck. It’s nice enough outside, but he’s still chilly, and wonders if he should run back in and grab a jacket. He forgoes this idea when he realizes Sarah’d put up more of a fight if he did, knowing he’s warm-blooded as all hell, and vocally hot until at least November. Not to mention Tommy’d see right through him the second he shows up to work. No, it’s just early in the morning. The day will warm as the sun climbs to its apex for sure. He’ll be alright. 

While he’s thinking too hard through the fog in his head, Sarah climbs into the car with her backpack on, pulling it off to throw into the seat next to her. But not before she’s placed two additions in the seat between them - a box of tissues and a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything to him, just gives him a knowing look before loading her lunch into her backpack. Joel stills a moment — he’s not surprised by her care, but softens at the gesture. As Sarah shuts the passenger door, Joel wonders how the hell she turned out so sweet, and kisses the top of her head in silent thanks before pushing the truck into drive.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel gets to work, his headache has bloomed into pain behind his eyes, leaving him squinting hard in the bright morning sun. He’s also used quite a few tissues since he dropped Sarah off at school. He’s definitely grateful she thought to grab them, but unfortunately, his congestion won’t budge. He’s not naive enough to think he can hide from Tommy, but hopeful that his brother might at least leave him be today. He can muscle through if he’s just working and not being nagged by his brother for hours. He’s sure of it.

—--------------------

Tommy’s not an idiot, but he lets him slide for the first few hours. It’s clear he knows something’s wrong. Joel’s a quiet enough guy, but never this silent, only speaking up when the work demands. He noticed when Joel got out of the truck this morning looking particularly drained - both in face and demeanor - and had checked in as casually as possible, hoping to avoid his brother’s evident and exceptional irritability. Joel, of course, had promptly brushed him off and clammed up for the remainder of the morning. Speaking only when spoken to hadn’t stopped Joel from making noise, though, much to his brother’s dismay. Tommy had seen him all morning, breaking into intermittent fits of coughing he’d attempt to mask beneath the racket of power tools. Tommy’s just about as good at hiding his concern, and Joel catches him looking in his direction in the thick of it on more than one occasion. After which Joel would rip his eyes from his brother’s fretful gaze, hoping to deter him from moving forward to give him a once-over. 

Despite his many efforts otherwise, Tommy knows Joel’s sick - too sick to be working like he is today. It’s when the guys break for lunch around noon and Joel just quietly nurses a bottle of water (which he only has because Sarah made sure of it, no less), that Tommy decides he’s got all the evidence he needs. Tommy sidles up next to his brother who’s leaning against his truck bed, and by the looks of it, allowing it to hold most of his weight, too weary to do so himself. Tommy sighs next to him, and Joel braces for what’s coming.

“You know, we’ve pretty much got it covered over here today, not a lot left to do before we pour anyhow. Probably a good thing, bottom looks like it’s gonna fall out before long,” he says, gesturing to the darkening sky above them. “We can manage for the day if you wanna head on home, maybe take a nap? Hate to tell ya, but you look like hell.” Tommy nudges his brother’s shoulder with his own playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. Joel rolls his eyes at Tommy, sniffing and clearing his throat to talk.

“Nah. ‘S just a cold. I’ll be alright,” Joel says, hoping to end the discussion with his curt response, but failing when his throat catches on the last word. Tommy’s face is etched in worry at the sound of the cough tearing up his brother’s throat. 

While Joel attempts to catch his breath, Tommy takes in the reddened flush on Joel’s otherwise pale face, and the distant glassiness in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Tommy places the back of his hand against Joel’s forehead. He’s barely there long enough to get a read on his temp before Joel swats his hand away, but it’s enough. No wonder he’s caught Joel shivering more than once today. 

“Dammit Joel, you know better. We’ve sent guys home for less and you know it,” says Tommy, face twisting in frustration and concern. 

“Tommy it’s fine I-“ Joel attempts to reply, but Tommy cuts him off. 

“Did you even bother to check it before ya left? You know this is a fuckin’ hazard on the job. Damn accident waitin’ to happen,” his tone is grave, but his expression is worried and achingly sincere. Joel pushes the thought from his mind and shapes up - not his little brother’s job, he can take care of himself. 

“No. I’m fine to keep workin. That’s it. We got stuff to do,” Joel says with finality, turning on his heel and promptly returning to his tasks. Tommy’s not happy about it, but he could spend all day arguing with his bullheaded brother, tiring him out more without making any headway. No, he’ll just keep a closer eye on him while they work. That’ll have to do.

—--------------------

It’s when the rain starts coming down a little after two that Tommy hits his limit. Once he notices a couple drops beginning to fall, he looks to Joel, just in time to see his brother shivering when the drops make contact with his overheated skin. That’s enough of that. Tommy stalks over to his brother, whose reaction time is significantly slowed, and Joel turns to look at him a bit dazed. 

“Alright, that’s it. Rain’s coming down, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ leaf. Go home.” It’s Tommy’s turn to remain steadfast in his convictions. Joel looks over at him with tired eyes and Tommy can’t help but soften. 

Only when a few chilled drops hit Joel’s face and neck making him colder than he’s felt all day that he concedes. “Yeah, alright.” It’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight, especially when Tommy pats his shoulder comfortingly and he slumps a bit. Joel’s shivering again as Tommy ushers him back toward his truck. 

“We’re heading out soon as we get cleaned up anyway. How ‘bout I pick up Sarah? Just go home and get some sleep?” Tommy asks, hopeful now that his brother’s folding. 

“Okay,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face before trying in vain to rub out the pain behind his eyes. Joel stops just outside the driver’s side door and looks to Tommy to thank him. 

“‘Course. Now head home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Tommy responds, to which Joel nods, then climbs into the truck. Tommy takes another look back to find his brother sitting in the driver’s seat gathering himself, mildly satisfied with this result 

_____________________________________________________________

For once you actually make your way to the parking lot right after school on a Friday. You're notorious for staying too late, grading, planning, or straight up yapping, but today you’d made a rookie mistake. You’d showed up to work on Day 2 of your period without checking your advil stash. Fuck. 

After a day of cramping, crabbiness, and guilty apologies after being kind of a bitch to your students a couple of times, you head to your car as soon as the bell rings. You’ll stop in the Walgreens around the corner from your neighborhood for a quick supply run, then head home to be comfortably horizontal for the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon.

—--------------------

Truth be told, Joel is relieved to be done for the day by the time Tommy makes him leave. The last of his resolve had crumbled and fallen with the first raindrops and the chill they set in his bones. He turns the heat on in his truck and settles in, letting the air warm him up and willing the pounding in his head to subside just long enough to focus on the road. A few minutes and a bout of coughing later, he finally works up the strength to drive home, only to realize he’s still horrifically unmedicated. Shit. Guess he’s stopping at the drugstore on his way home if he wants even a little relief.

—--------------------

Joel’s standing in the cold and flu aisle of his neighborhood Walgreens, sniffling miserably and squinting heavy-lidded at different cold medicine boxes in each of his hands. He remembers one particular medicine helping at least a bit more than others last time he was sick, but for the life of him he can’t remember which one it was. Dammit, he really just wants to get out of here. He’d much rather keep this cold to himself than be hacking in public, but he needs something if he’s ever gonna stop coughing long enough to get the sleep he desperately needs. 

The tiny white letters on the back of these orange and green boxes are starting to run together, and the pain behind his eyes digs its heels into his frontal lobe. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses a little louder than he realizes, triggering a coughing fit in the middle of the store. Great. Now everyone in the store knows he’s carrying a respiratory plague. He’s sniffling and feeling like a walking germ when he hears his name called.

“Joel?” you call from the end of the aisle, having heard his voice from a few lanes over. Joel turns his head to see - oh no. Jesus. Boy did he wish you weren’t the one seeing him look so gross right now. As you come closer to find him squinting under the clinical brightness of the drugstore, you get a good look at him. He looks… rough. His hair’s a bit damp, and more disheveled than usual - not the fresh, styled damp you see when he leaves the house after a shower, but a clammier mix of sweat and rain. His posture is far from the typical confidence and swagger he typically wields with each step, and is more evidently haggard. You notice his eyes first though, with dark circles and brows creased in confused exhaustion. They’re half-closed too, like he’s fighting to keep them open. 

He tries to open them wider and stand up straighter as you approach, clearing his throat to speak, but he’s coughing again before he can get a word out. He’s shaking with the force of it and you notice his shirt is damp in places as well - must have gotten caught in the rain. Just minutes ago, he’d have been uncomfortable under your scrutiny, but he’s too wrapped up in catching his breath to be embarrassed at this point. You draw nearer with pure concern in your eyes as his coughing subsides, and his resolve melts a bit more.

“Whoa, hey, you okay over there? That sounded painful,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. He notices the fretful tone in your voice — it’s gentler than his brother’s but carries the same intention. 

“Yeah, can’t say it feels great,” Joel says hoarsely before attempting to clear his throat once again, hoping his lungs will cooperate this time. “Can’t seem to remember which of these damn pills will give me a hand though.”

“Didn’t I just see you on Wednesday? When did you start feeling bad?” you ask, leaning against his side to take a closer look at one of the boxes from his hands. Maybe with some details you can help figure something out to get him feeling better, or at least let him rest.

“Last night, I guess. Came on pretty quick. Was workin’ okay this morning, but once the rain started, Tommy sent me packin’.”

“You went to work like this, Joel?! Isn’t that like, dangerous? You could really hurt yourself,” you chastise, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly while staring up at him looking utterly devastated. Christ he may melt into a puddle right here. He’s seen this look before, and though he doesn’t want you close enough to catch this, he doesn’t have the heart to shove you away like he did Tommy. He bothers to look at least a little guilty, and you sigh before continuing: “Bad idea. And you know it. Now, let’s figure this out. You’ve got the cough down for sure - what are your other symptoms?”

Before Joel can respond, he looks down into the small basket hanging over your arm and notices its contents: a box of pads, tampons, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a resealable bag of bite-sized chocolates, sour gummy worms, two different pain medications, and a box of peppermint tea. Pain relief, pads, and candy salad. Caught. This is not a conversation you want to have with Joel — men get weird about periods for some childish reason, and you’re really not in the mood. You glance down and move the basket behind you a bit, ready to brush him off and keep the conversation on him, but when you meet his eyes they’re wider and his brows are furrowed above you, drinking you in.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?,” he asks, gesturing to the contents of your little black basket. His tone mirrors the worry you’ve been bleeding since you turned onto the aisle. You’re taken aback by the question at all, given the obvious nature of today’s dilemma — one most men you know wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. His voice doesn’t waver, and his expression doesn’t falter, or express an ounce of discomfort. It’s interesting, but you’d rather not dwell on it, and laugh him off anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before of course,” you smile and wave your hand in the air to brush off his concern, but his eyebrows inch closer to one another, and his head tilts slightly to the side. You’re the one growing warm under his perusal now, so you turn the subject back to him. “Anyway, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Joel stares a moment longer, but begins to rattle off a list of fairly standard cold symptoms. You’re glad it isn’t anything too serious, he’ll probably just feel crappy for a couple of days while his immune system does the heavy lifting. Now to figure out what can be done to make him more comfortable in the meantime. One thing you know for certain after hearing the growing congestion in his voice and the rasp in his throat — he’s gonna need the stronger stuff. You take the boxes from his hands and return them to the shelf. He looks at you perplexed, struggling to sniffle against the congestion that — according to the pained squinting he’s still doing beneath the fluorescent lights — is giving him a hell of a sinus headache, and keeping him from breathing through his nose. Fine as he may be in a few days, at the moment he looks devastatingly uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, this crap on the shelf isn’t gonna work. Let’s get ya some of the stronger stuff,” you say, patting his shoulder before tugging him along to the pharmacy. He doesn’t ask any questions, just quietly follows your lead. Along the way, you explain the useless nature of the phenylephrine in the easy stuff, and how the good stuff requires you to show your ID. You tell him why the drugs with the pseudoephedrine are more helpful, and he nods and snuffles in understanding. Sounds good to him, he’ll let you take the lead on that one. As smart as he knows you are, he more than trusts your judgment.

You approach the counter and begin perusing the options, talking with the pharmacist about what you need, when Joel starts coughing again. You can’t help but rub his back and whisper soft words in comfort when his face twists in pain from the fit wreaking havoc in his chest. As your hand moves in soothing circles across his back, you can feel the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Shit, he didn’t say anything about a fever. You need to get him home as soon as possible. 

When he’s composed a bit, you wrap up with the pharmacist, and she asks for your ID. You pull yours from your bag and hand it to her, but pause. Should you show her your own? Does she need to see Joel’s too?

“Oh, for sure. Uhm, do you need to see his too, since he’s the patient?” you ask, wanting to get done with this as quickly and smoothly as possible so you can get him out of here. She’s looking at the card in her hand intently and entering your information into the computer, busy with the transaction.

“No ma’am. We don’t need your husband’s ID since you’re the one purchasing,” she responds, not lifting her eyes from the computer. You blush at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice until Joel’s eyes go wide and he chokes, forcing him into another bout of harsh coughing. Jesus, his throat must be torn up. You reach for him with one hand and place your own basket and a few other sick day supplies on the counter with the other before she finalizes the transaction. 

“Thanks for all your help!,” you say a bit frantically as you begin to usher him toward the exit. You walk out of the store in silence, neither one of you looking at the other, each of you trying to keep a nervous smirk at bay. Only when the automatic doors shut behind you do you turn to look at each other and laugh heartily, extremely entertained by the pharmacist’s assumption. The laughter only ceases when it sends Joel coughing again — you need a read on that fever he’s sporting. Once he’s mostly caught his breath, you move closer and place a gentle hand on his forehead, then move it down toward his cheek. Joel closes his eyes and without realizing, leans forward into your soft touch. When your hand leaves his face, his eyes open to find that look again, and he muses that you may make him sweat before the fever gets the chance. 

“You didn’t mention this earlier. Did you know you’re running a fever, Joel?” you ask him, and he looks guilty toward the asphalt. 

“Tommy mighta mentioned somethin’ about it earlier, but I’ll be alright,” he responds, but fails to suppress a shiver when the breeze kicks up. Your heart breaks a little seeing him shaking — how did you miss that earlier? You sigh deeply before telling him you’re hesitant to let him drive home. He insists it’ll be fine, and you understand it’d be more of a hassle to come get his truck later on. You concede since it’s such a short trip back, but you’ll follow him back to your adjacent homes. 

—--------------------

After parking your car in the driveway next to his own, you meet Joel at his truck. You bat his hand away when he attempts to grab the bags from yours, and tell him to go unlock the door. Ever the gentleman, he’s a little perturbed, but follows your instructions anyway. Once you’re both inside the house, you set the items on the table and sit him down next to it before heading for the cabinet and filling a glass with water. After passing him the glass and watching as he slowly sips, you unload the bags, and begin reading the back of the box from the pharmacy. 

“Have you eaten anything today? It’s probably not a great idea to take this on an empty stomach,” you say. He goes a little green at the thought of eating anything before swallowing and huffing a response.

“No, haven’t really felt like it. Don’t think it’d sit well right now, to be honest. I’ll be alright with just the medicine, I bet.” You sigh in response, a little anxious it’ll make him feel worse, but either option could do that at this point. At least the thought of the medicine isn’t nauseating for him at the moment. You’ll let it slide, for now. 

“Fine. But you’ll definitely need to eat something substantial later,” you tell him, giving him a once-over, taking advantage of the single instance he’s below you to get a good look at him. You’re already thinking through take-out options that might help tonight. Another day, you’d make some soup for him — get him full and warm him up. Hell, tomorrow you might. But today you’re exhausted, with the period fatigue and the cramps that won’t let up, you’re definitely ready to get into some more comfy Friday Afternoon Clothes. 

“Alright, you get changed and get comfy on the couch. I’m just gonna run home and get outta these work clothes, then I’ll be right back.” 

“You’ve done plenty already today, darlin’, really. Helped me out more than you know. And I’d hate for you to catch this too,” he explains, looking guiltier than you’d like. You’re plenty aware of the risk here but at the moment you couldn’t care less. You don’t really feel like sitting by yourself in your house right now anyway. No reason both of you should feel crappy alone. 

“Uh, Joel, did you forget that we’re ‘married’ now? I’ll be back in just a minute to check on you,” you insist, smiling at him. He looks at you admonishingly and smiles back, shaking his head. You have no idea how happy that makes him — his stomach flutters at the joke, and it isn’t from his illness. You hesitate on the way out the door, and turn to check with him once again. “If having me hovering is gonna keep you up though, I can totally leave you be. I don’t want to keep you from getting the rest you need.” Your voice and expression are apprehensive, afraid to be a bother. 

He probably doesn’t still his face well enough, and he’s certain you can see desperation in his eyes when he shakes his head. He can’t tell you quite yet, but he’s over the moon you want to stick around. All semblance of nobility is dropped - having you near him could never be unwelcome. “You don’t hover, sweetheart. Nothing about you is bothersome. I’d love the company, actually,” he tells you in earnest.

Your expression settles at the reassurance, and you smile back at him. “Good. I’ll just be a few minutes,” you begin, but your smile turns to a grimace with the last few words as you feel a sharp twisting in your stomach and lower back. Your hand instinctively grips your stomach, hoping to ease the pain. There’s definitely no escaping that one. Joel’s eyes widen, but you cut him off before he can ask if you’re okay. “Yep, I'm gonna get out of these pants and into something loose before my uterus tries to kill me,” you joke, reaching for the knob. 

Joel chuckles in response but he’s frowning a bit. The look from the drugstore is back, and you don’t know what to do with his sympathy. You can’t look long before heading out. 

He hates seeing the pain you’re in, but what upsets him most is the way you brush it off. Like your pain is smaller, or insignificant by comparison — one he wouldn’t draw anyway. It sticks with him more than it probably should, but he can’t seem to shake it. He needs to act, somehow. Once he’s changed, he grabs a few blankets from the closet and the heating pad they keep around for his back and for Sarah’s own cycles. He knows how much it can help her, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to offer, at least. 

He sets up a spot on the couch for you both — a little nest for staring at the tv and, (he hopes), cozying up just a bit for extra comfort. He’s still not hungry, but he microwaves a bag of popcorn and grabs some other assorted salty snacks to join the candy you’d picked up. He’s seen how snacky you can get after school sometimes, and wants to make sure you have an array of options, prepped for any craving. 

You return as he’s placing the last of these items down on the coffee table — he’s rather proud of his little presentation — and sees your hair up and a comfy set of sweats that are just a little too long in the arms and legs. Lord help him, you look fucking adorable. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face when you walk toward him. 

“Well don’t you look cozy,” he says with eyes shining at your improved expression. You give him an exaggerated little twirl to show off the baggy outfit you’ve adorned yourself in for this evening’s activities. 

“Damn right! I’m ready for anything now,” you say, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. He’s laughing in response before it catches in his throat again and he starts coughing. 

“That makes one of us,” he jokes once he’s caught his breath. 

“Yep, I want you on the couch. Right now. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll get the medicine. We gotta get you drugged up enough if you’re gonna get any sleep.” You’re ushering him to the couch when you stop in your tracks. When you catch sight of the coffee table snacks and the heating pad set up on one side of the couch, already plugged in and waiting, you nearly tear up. You’re speechless for a moment — no one’s ever done anything like this for you before. This little thoughtful gesture means the world, and you’re not sure what to say. 

“Joel! You didn’t need to do all this. You’re sick, I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you insist, nudging his arm with your own, leaning lightly into his side. 

“Wasn’t hardly anything, darlin’, just some stuff I know helps Sarah when she gets to feelin’ like you do. She likes her snacks salty, and always feels better with this little fire hazard next to ��er,” he says, gesturing to the heating pad on the couch. His grin turns mischievous before he starts again: “Besides, you said it yourself, we’re ‘married’ now, huh? I oughta know what my wife needs just as well,” he finishes, voice too satisfied, and eyebrows raised in jest. 

You’re giggling when you grab his hand and squeeze it, thanking him. “This goofy little bit we’re doin’ ends the second Sarah and your brother walk through the door, by the way. Not looking to scare her, that’s the last thing I wanna do,” you instruct.

“‘Course, but fuckin’ with Tommy sure woulda been fun,” he says to you, and you laugh in agreement. Once you see he’s settled, you make tea for the both of you, hoping it’ll work magic with the medicine to get him resting comfortably and — with any luck — napping before long. He’ll probably protest, but with a little coaxing, you’ll get it into him. 

When you return with the tea, he takes it from you with both hands, before using one to pull you down on the couch next to him. He’s pulled you a little closer than you may have sat yourself, and he’s pleased when you don’t pull away or readjust. You just grab the heating pad, crank it up, and stick it behind your lower back while leaning forward to grab the medicine. You check his temperature again with the back of your hand while he’s preoccupied taking the medicine you’d doled out to him. He’s a little warmer than he was outside the drug store. 

“Maybe we should get a number on that. Where do you keep your thermometer?” you ask, worry written on your face all over again. You attempt to rise from the couch to go hunting, but he grips your hand again, keeping you in place.

“Nope, nope, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You need to get some rest too. Sit,” he directs, his tone leaving no room for discussion. You roll your eyes, but wriggle back against the couch again before pulling a blanket into your lap. Joel fiddles with the cord of the heating pad and readjusts it behind your back, making sure it isn’t folded or sitting uncomfortably against you. You sigh in relief and fall a bit toward him as you settle in, and he inches you way as well. You arbitrarily turn on a movie you’ve both seen, fully aware neither of you will be making it to the end, and snuggle closer. The fevered heat humming beneath his skin is pleasantly warm against you as he settles deeper, and he’s slipping in and out of conversation within minutes. 

_____________________________________________________________

Sarah walks through the door with Tommy in tow while end credits roll across the tv. They head into the den to check on Joel, but conversation falls silent and they stop in their tracks at the sight they discover. You’re sleeping peacefully, legs tucked up under you and head lolled against the back of the couch. Joel’s head has somehow found its way into your lap, and he’s resting warmly on your stomach, no doubt alleviating some of the pain with his warmth and weight. Your hand rests on his shoulder, holding him securely.

Tommy’s face goes slack, but Sarah’s smiling ear to ear, and turns to her uncle, trying to quiet her laughter. He looks at her wide-eyed, but says nothing, and she holds her hand out between them, fingers curling toward her palm.

“Pay up,” she says, way too satisfied for Tommy’s liking, and far too much like her father. He rolls his eyes, and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He really thought his brother would be too chicken to do anything about this — at least for a little while longer.

[enemiestolovershoe]

JJ & Reader going night surfing and falling asleep in a hammock together, only for John b to find them in the morning and tease tf out of them about it?

More than just friends

JJ Maybank x bsf!reader

Summary: After a night of surfing and stargazing, JJ and the reader share a quiet moment that doesn’t go unnoticed the next morning.

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Not proofread, minor drug use (smoking a joint)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the Pogues’ little setup by the bonfire outside the Chateau. The night was calm, almost hypnotic, and the waves lapped softly in the distance as the fire crackled. You, JJ, John B, Pope, and Kiara sat around, laughing and recounting stories, the kind of simple, perfect night that only really happened with this crew.

Kiara stretched, yawning, as the night wore on. “Alright, I’m calling it. I’ve got to get some sleep if we’re hitting the water tomorrow.”

Pope yawned as well, rubbing his eyes. “Same. I’m wiped out.”

John B gave you and JJ a lazy wave as he and the others trudged inside. “Don’t stay up too late, you two,” he called, smirking.

JJ just chuckled, kicking back against the log he was leaning on. “As if you can tell us what to do, JB.”

Soon, it was just you and JJ, sitting by the fire, watching as the embers glowed red-orange against the night sky. There was something peaceful about it—just the two of you, the soft crash of waves, and the dim glow of the fire.

After a few minutes, you got an idea. You nudged JJ, your eyes bright with mischief. “Hey. Wanna make this night even better?”

JJ raised an eyebrow, already grinning. “What, you got something up your sleeve?”

“Night surfing,” you said, practically bouncing with excitement. “The waves have been perfect all evening. Let’s hit them before they die down.”

He laughed, eyes lighting up at the idea. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied, challenging him. “Unless you’re too tired, of course.”

JJ gave you an exaggerated scoff. “Me, too tired? Never.” He jumped up, pulling you with him. “Come on, let’s grab the boards.”

With a shared, excited look, you ran to get your surfboards, adrenaline already beginning to pulse through you both. The ocean looked almost mysterious in the dim moonlight, dark yet welcoming, as if it was inviting you two to take on one more adventure.

Once you waded into the water, JJ looked over at you, his grin barely visible in the dim light. “Ready to get smoked?”

“Please,” you said with a smirk, paddling out past him. “Let’s see if you can even keep up.”

The waves were just right—big enough to give you a challenge, but soft enough to make it fun. You rode wave after wave, the two of you laughing and occasionally shouting as you tried to one-up each other, the sound echoing over the water.

After a particularly good ride, JJ turned to you, still out of breath, his hair wet and clinging to his face. “I have to hand it to you, you didn’t wipe out as much as I thought you would,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. I was waiting for you to keep up.”

He shot you a lopsided grin. “Guess you’ll have to wait forever then, ‘cause I’m untouchable out here.”

As the waves finally began to die down, you both paddled back to shore, breathing heavily and grinning from ear to ear. Back on the sand, you stretched out, laughing as you both tried to catch your breath.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“That was…awesome,” JJ said, staring up at the stars.

“Right?” you replied, lying back on the cool sand beside him.

After a few moments of quiet, JJ sat up, brushing sand from his board shorts. “Come on, let’s head back.”

Back at the Chateau, you both paused on the porch, feeling the night wind down. You looked over at JJ, and he held up the joint he’d pulled from his pocket with a grin. “One last thing to top off the night?”

“Only if you’re sharing,” you teased.

“Always,” he said, and motioned to the hammock. “Best seat in the house.”

You climbed into the hammock beside him, finding your balance as it swung gently with both of your weights. You took the joint from him, inhaling deeply, and watched as JJ lit up, the flame flickering in his face.

“Sometimes I think this is what I’d do forever if I could,” JJ murmured, looking up at the stars through the trees.

You exhaled, passing the joint back to him. “What, get high in a hammock every night?”

“No,” he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. “I mean… just this. Just chilling out here with you guys, like this is all that matters.”

You looked over at him, seeing a side of JJ you didn’t always get to see. “You know… you’re kind of a sap,” you teased, though your voice was soft.

“Don’t let it get around,” he muttered, looking at you, his eyes softened. “Can’t have everyone knowing I actually have feelings.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you said, smiling, a warmth in your chest that you couldn’t quite place.

He took another hit, handing the joint back to you. “You’re not too bad yourself, you know that?”

You gave him a look. “Wow, what a compliment.”

“Hey,” he said, laughing, his hand resting just beside yours, close enough that you could feel his warmth. “I don’t just give those out to anyone.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. It felt so easy, lying there with him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The two of you drifted into quiet conversation, talking about anything and everything until the night started to blur around the edges. Before you knew it, the world was growing hazy, your eyes beginning to close as you felt the gentle sway of the hammock.

At some point, you felt JJ’s arm around you, his breathing deep and steady as he fell asleep beside you. You leaned into him, the warmth of his presence making you feel safe and content as you drifted off.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the trees, slowly waking up the Pogues inside the Chateau. John B was the first to stir, stretching and blinking as he got up, wandering outside to see what mischief you and JJ had gotten into.

What he found made him pause—and then grin.

You and JJ were still tangled up in the hammock, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm securely around you, both fast asleep and oblivious to the world. John B stifled a laugh, fishing his phone out of his pocket to snap a few quick pictures.

“Too good to pass up,” he muttered, trying not to laugh too loudly. With one last amused glance at you both, he slipped back inside, shaking his head with a smirk.

An hour later, you stirred awake, blinking against the bright sunlight. It took a moment for you to realize where you were—and that JJ was still beside you, his arm comfortably around your shoulders, your hand resting on his chest. Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could move, JJ’s eyes blinked open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

“Morning, surfer girl,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, feeling your cheeks warm, though you made no move to pull away.

Eventually, the two of you untangled yourselves, reluctantly climbing out of the hammock and making your way back inside. As you entered, John B was leaning against the counter, watching you both with an obnoxiously smug grin.

“Well, well, look who’s up,” he greeted, his tone thick with amusement. “Good morning, lovebirds.���

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “Shut up, John B.”

JJ just grinned, trying to brush it off. “Real funny, man. Keep it up.”

“Oh, I will,” John B said, laughing. He folded his arms, giving you both a knowing look. “So… how’d you two sleep?”

JJ narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. “What’s with the interrogation?”

Without a word, John B pulled out his phone and held up the pictures he’d taken. “I don’t need to interrogate you when the evidence speaks for itself.”

Your jaw dropped. “John B, what the hell?”

John B raised his hands innocently, grinning. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying, the proof is in the photos.”

JJ rubbed the back of his neck, laughing it off. “Dude, come on. We were just…you know, we were tired. It was a long night.”

“Right,” John B said, his tone laced with sarcasm. He gave you both a serious look, his voice dropping slightly. “I don’t know if you’re really that blind, but you two are clearly more than just friends.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A/n: I hope you like it. :)

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 4: You claim a dragon! But as luck would have it, you are found and dragged back to Rhaenyra's court, where Jace is assigned as your mentor in dragon riding.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Dragonseed (f) reader

The weeks had slipped by, and you found yourself settling into your new life in the Reach. The tavern was busy, townsfolk were generous enough, and the pastor's lessons had become a happy spot in your days. The books he lent you filled your mind with new knowledge— of dragons and their riders.

And yet, no matter how content you tried to be, there was a part of you that always seemed to drift back to Dragonstone, back to the sharp blue eyes of a certain prince.

One afternoon, while running an errand for the tavern, you ventured further than usual, the path winding through a dense forest.

There was a shift in the air that made you stop in your tracks. The forest had gone eerily silent. No birds, no wind, nothing.

You took a careful step forward, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. And that’s when you saw it.

A massive, scaled form lay in a clearing just off the path, hidden among the tall grass and trees. Its body was the color of the night sky, dark blue. The dragon was still, its great head resting on its wings, its eyes closed as if in deep sleep.

You stepped on a pebble, and the sound was too loud. The dragon’s eyes snapped open—huge, molten gold orbs that fixed on you.

You froze, unsure whether to run or stand your ground. Every tale you had read, every nightmare about Vermithor came rushing back.

But the dragon did not roar or take to the skies. Instead, it watched you, its gaze unblinking and oddly calm.

Slowly, you took a step forward, your hand reaching out. The dragon’s eyes followed your every movement, but it remained still, almost... curious. You were close enough now to feel the heat radiating off its body, to see the intricate patterns of scales, each as large as your hand.

"You're beautiful," you whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of the wind in the trees. The dragon's eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, you could have sworn it understood.

You knelt in the grass, your heart still hammering, and for a moment, it was just you and the dragon in the world. You felt its bond in your veins.

After what felt like an eternity, you slowly stood, your gaze never leaving the dragon’s. It didn’t move, didn’t make a sound as you backed away, your footsteps careful and measured. Only when you were well out of sight did you finally turn and run, your heart racing not from fear, but from exhilaration.

As you made your way back to the tavern, the encounter played over and over in your mind. You couldn’t help but feel that the dragon had recognized you.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The visits continued, each one bringing you closer, the bond between the two of you growing stronger. You would bring food, a fish you'd stash away from your own rations from that day's batch and the dragon would accept it, allowing you to sit by its side, to pet it, to feel the heat of its breath. Occasionally, the dragon would growl, below, or hum. It was as if the dragon was trying to communicate, to reciprocate to you.

You returned to the familiar spot in the forest, a small basket of fruit in hand. Each time you visited the dragon, it felt like entering another world, one where you weren't just a lowly servant but something more—something awesome.

But today, the clearing was empty.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees. You looked around the area, waiting for the familiar rush of wind, the shadow that signaled the dragon’s arrival. But none came. The clearing remained still and silent.

You walked around the perimeter, softly calling “zaldrīzes” the High Valyrian word for dragon you had read in the pastor's books. But there was no answer, only the rustling of leaves from your scraped up boots. You waited for hours, growing more anxious with each passing minute.

Eventually, as the light began to fade, you sighed in defeat. Perhaps the dragon had found better hunting grounds, or maybe it had simply tired of your company. You picked up your basket and turned to leave, feeling a pang of disappointment as you made your way back through the woods.

The journey home was uneventful, your thoughts lost in worry over the dragon’s absence. The town was quiet when you arrived, the streets nearly empty as the sun had set. As you walked down a narrow alley toward the tavern where you worked, a sense of unease crept up your spine.

You tried to walk faster, but it was too late. A group of men stepped into your path. They were rough-looking, with dirty faces and the smell of ale on their breath. Bandits.

“Where’re you off to in such a hurry, pretty girl?” one of them asked, his eyes raking over you with an ugly grin.

You clutched your basket to your chest. “I have no money,”

Another one, taller than the first, chuckled. “We’re not interested in your money, pretty girl. But you... now, you’re a different story.”

They closed in around you, their hands reaching out to grab at you. Panic surged through you as you tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but all you could think to do was scream.

“Help!” You screamed desperately.

The men laughed, mocking your fear. “Scream all you want, little girl. No one’s coming for you.”

A deafening roar split the air. The sound was so powerful that it shook the ground beneath your feet, sending the bandits stumbling in shock. You looked up just in time to see a massive shadow descending from the sky—a dragon, your dragon.

With a mighty sweep of its wings, the dragon landed on the two rooftops framing the alleyway, its jaws snapping with a terrifying snarl. The bandits cried in terror, scrambling to get away as the dragon unleashed a strong of flames.

The men tried to run, but the dragon was on them in an instant, its claws tearing through them with ease. You stood frozen, unable to look away as the beast defended you with a ferocity you had never imagined.

The dragon turned to you, its eyes glowing with an intense, primal light. You trembled under its gaze, your heart racing as it lowered its head to meet your eyes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The dragon huffed, a puff of smoke escaping its nostrils as if to say it was nothing. You couldn’t help but smile, a sense of awe and gratitude swelling in your chest. You reached out to touch the dragon’s snout, your fingers brushing against its warm, leathery skin.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears. You turned to see a figure emerging from the trees—a knight, his armor gleaming shining in the light of the fire.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him, the dragon and you standing together. He didn’t speak, but the look on his face told you everything—you had been found, and there would be no hiding now.

He drew his sword. “You are to return to Dragonstone,” he said, his voice commanding. “By order of the Queen.”

The knight hesitated before answering, “The dragon will be cared for. But you must come with me. Now.”

Your heart sank, but you knew there was no arguing. You nodded, glancing back at the dragon. “Will my friend be safe?” you asked quietly.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jacaerys stood at the top of the stairs leading to the Great Hall, a frown etched on his face. He had been in the middle of a strategy meeting when the commotion outside the castle had caught his attention. Now, as he looked down into the courtyard, his breath caught in his throat.

You were there. Your once neat servant’s attire was torn and dirty, your hair disheveled, and your face pale with exhaustion. But it was the dragon standing beside you that seized his focus. The questions in his mind were staggering.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. You were surrounded by guards, led by Ser Robert, one of his mother’s trusted knights. The knight spoke to you in hushed tones, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walked you toward the Great Hall. Even from this distance, Jace could see the way you trembled.

His thoughts twisted with jealousy as he imagined what might have happened to bring you to this state. Had someone hurt you? The thought of another man laying a hand on you filled him with anger.

But he buried those feelings deep as you were brought into the hall, forced to stand before his mother.

Her eyes were sharp as they fell upon you. She motioned for you to come closer, and you hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, your head bowed.

“Who are you?” Rhaenyra’s voice was cold and demanding. “And how did you come to claim this dragon?”

“M- my name is y/n, your grace.” You struggled to respond, your voice shaky. You spoke of your journey, leaving out Vermithor's claiming and your fear of Rhaenyra, your time in the Reach, and how you had come across the dragon by chance.

Rhaenyra’s follow up questions were relentless, pressing you for details, for proof of your bloodline.

But it tore at him to see you like this, to see the fear in your eyes and know that you were searching for him, hoping for his protection. It was ironic that he, a prince, was powerless to help you in this moment.

Jace stood nearby, his hands clenched at his sides. He could see the way you looked toward him, your eyes pleading for some kind of help. But he knew better than to intervene in his mother’s questioning.

Rhaenyra’s gaze went to him briefly, as if gauging his reaction. He kept his face impassive, giving nothing away. And he hated that he cared as much as he did.

He turned away from the hall, the echo of your voice still ringing in his ears.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The warm water felt amazing as it soaked into your skin, washing away the grime of the road. The servants—girls you had once worked alongside—moved around you, scrubbing your skin and washing your hair the way you once had.

You struggled to sit still as they worked. The sensation of being on the receiving end of servitude did not sit well.

You tried to catch their gaze but they were cast the the floor.

“Alys, Katelynn.” You wispered their names. “Please look at me.”

Your old friends' eyes widened, and they obediently glanced up at you before exchanging sideways glances.

You took a relieved sigh, admitting, “I've missed you.”

“We missed you too!” Alys spoke first.

Katelyn was more timid, and slowly opened her mouth to ask. “Is it true you claimed a dragon?”

Finding no use in hiding information from them, you told the whole story, leaving out a few parts. You had been brought before the Queen, forced to answer for something you didn’t fully understand yourself. The dragon had come to your aid, and now you were bound to it.

“I knew it!” Alys flashed a smile. “It's those purple eyes of yours. You have to have been one of them."

You cast down your eyes, resenting the idea that that was how your friends now saw you now, as “them”.

As they helped you out of the bath and began dressing you in a new gown, your hands trembled slightly. The fabric of the corset was rich and luxurious, a deep black that clung to your body in a way that made you feel exposed. You had never worn anything like this before.

You cought a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The person staring back at you was unfamiliar—she was beautiful, but there was a hardness in her eyes, a reflection of the fear and uncertainty you had been carrying.

When they were finished, you looked down at the gown, running your fingers over the material.

The girls left, leaving you alone in your chamber. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it wasn't easy. The pressure made your temples hurt, and you let out a frustrated groan, taking off the bracelets decorating your arms and discarding them on the table, then pulling your hair out of its intricate braids. You walked towards your window, the gown rustling as you leaned out to look down. Breathing heavily, you tried to measure the distance going down from your window to the dragon pit.

Someone cleared their throat behind you. You tensed and turned to the entrance of your chamber.

Jace stood at the door, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He looked as composed as ever, but there was an accusation in his gaze—making you feel guilty for being caught on your second attempt to escape.

He didn’t speak as he approached you slowly, but the silence between you was heavy with unspoken words.

The gown had its intended effect. You felt both beautiful and vulnerable, aware of the way it accentuated your figure and the way Jace’s eyes lingered on you. The room was dimly lit, the torches casting long shadows along the stone walls.

Before you could react, you were pressed against the cold stone wall, Jace’s body pinning you in place. The breath was knocked out of you, your heart racing as you craned your neck to look up into his face.

“Leaving again, are we?” His expression was unreadable, a storm of emotions that you couldn’t begin to decipher.

“Jace,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It isn't what—”

“Do not address me so casually,” he interrupted, his tone sharp, commanding. “I'm not a fool, Dragonseed." Sneering the cruel title.

His words stung, and you flinched, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I apologize, my prince. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

He didn’t release you, his grip firm as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. His voice was low, almost a growl. “You may have a dragon now, but do not mistake that for power. You are still beneath us, and I will not tolerate any illusions you may have of free will. That includes escape, y/n.”

You swallowed hard. The proximity of his body, the force of his presence, sent a shiver down your spine.

“I never asked for any of this.” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “I never wanted to be anything other than what I was.”

“Then you are a fool,” he snapped, his hand tightening on your arm. “You don’t get to choose your fate. The blood in your veins, the dragon that saved you—they’ve chosen for you.”

His words cut deep, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t show weakness, not now, not to him. “And what do you want from me, Jacaerys? To obey? To bow down and accept whatever fate you and your family decide for me?”

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. “I want you to know your place,” he hissed, his voice like ice. “The queen has deemed it so that you are to train under my guidance. You belong to me now. Your loyalty, your obedience—you, are all mine to command.”

You were silent, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as you processed his words. His dominance was overwhelming, and yet, there was something in his eyes—a flicker that hinted at the turmoil raging inside him.

Finally, he released you, stepping back but still blocking your path. “You will report to me in the morning,” he said, his tone hard and unyielding. “We will begin your training. And you will learn what it means to serve House Targaryen.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you trembling against the wall, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. You had wanted to be close to him, to learn from him, but not like this.

And as you lay in bed that night, your mind replayed the moment over and over again, the warmth of his body against yours, the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words, the heat of his breath against your skin...

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list:

@staarflowerr

@zizouu23

@alessiaparigim

@ericasabe

@jacaeryvardaddy

@dracaryxzs

@rav9n-16

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

[moonshynecybin]

I’ve only been into/started following MotoGP for a few months. Can I ask how exactly did Marc getting the Ducati seat go down? I’ve seen references of it being jorge messing up/rejecting the seat and that somehow leading to Marc masterminding his way to it but don’t fully get it. Thank you :))))

lmao it was awesome. under the cut shes crazy shes long shes the war of the roses shes game of thrones shes ducati being fucking STUPID !!!!!

okay so the beginning of this season going towards the middle was like. genuinely dominated by discussion of who would end up with the second factory ducati seat, and there were 3 main candidates for the position: 1. enea bastianini, who had the seat but who had had a spotty 2023 marred by injury and was delivering inconsistent results in the early part of 2024, 2. jorge martin, who had been basically promised the seat ahead of them uno reversing and signing enea, and who had contended for the title the year before/was leading the world championship early in 2024, and 3. marc marquez, 8 time world champion and arguable GOAT of the sport, who was doing insane comeback rides on a year old bike that he had very little time to adapt to. on pure results, you would have to go with martin (it was p clear it wasnt going to be my girl enea....), but marc looked uh. very promising and very dangerous (apparently his data, ESPECIALLY in the left handers, was like. bonkers), and who was also undeniably a better business asset to ducati as a company trying to sell motorbikes. and as we all knowwwwww, ducati had BY FARRRR the most dominant bike on the grid, so they are staring down the barrel of like. deciding between three excellent riders for one, extremely coveted seat. they think they hold all the cards here, and after a bit of rampant speculation the ducati bosses say everybody calm the fuck down we will make a decision about the gp25 seat at MUGELLO. forza. and with that the stage is set.

but again. ducati had basically promised jorge martin that seat. in fact, there was a provision in his contract that said if he won the world title in 2023, he would automatically be promoted to the factory team. like if marc doesnt come in on his merry way essentially doing a year long AUDITION for that seat up-to and including crowd-commanding theatrics, then it is undeniably martin's bike to have. and it looks like ducati kinda thought they should honor that too! because it was reported (unofficially but through a multitude of reliable sources) on the thursday before mugello that jorge martin WOULD be signing with the factory ducati team to be in red for 2025 IMMINENTLY. and he shows up to the presscon with the moon shinging out of his ass and we didnt rlly have a reason to doubt him so things are looking pretty locked up tbh

so another piece of the puzzle. for the last few years one cog in the wheel of ducati's dominance has been them having EIGHT bikes on the grid, and as such having insane amounts of data to comb through and synthesize while developing the bike. at the time, the team with the most factory support is pramac racing. but YAMAHA have made a promise to a young shirtless man named fabio quartararo that they will get a satellite team for 2024 to help with THEIR efforts, and pramac's contract with ducati is expiring so theyre the top choice. yamaha offers them a fuck you amount of cash and full factory support to leave ducati and come run the M1s with them. and the thing is, it is EXPENSIVE to run an independent team and this sugar daddy style deal would essentially lock down their immediate future quite nicely, so they are thinking HARD about this— because if they lose jorge martin like. what the fuck are they doing not taking that deal. and YOU are asking me girl what the fuck does this had to do with marc marquez WELLLLL. ducati know that marc wants a gp25. and pramac has the factory spec bikes. and marc's famous ass is a VERY valuable little bargaining chip in their eyes. so ducati APPARENTLY wanted marc on the same deal jorge martin was on (complete with the promise of factory promotion if he won the championship) at PRAMAC in order to keep marc, jorge martin, and pramac all under the umbrella of ducati racing. they think problem solved :) we get to keep everything and everyone :) marc gets a current spec bike, jorge gets to be on the factory team, and we can still run eight bikes :) awesome.

WELL! marc catches wind of all of this and goes. fuck you i want to be a factory rider on a gp25. like why on earth would he move from busted satellite team to busted satellite team that doesnt even have his BROTHER ? so instead of keeping all of these negotiations behind closed doors he trots right the fuck up to the press at mugello and says hello yes i have ABSOLUTELY no intention of riding for pramac, in fact i only have the intention of riding with factory teams. big smile. fuck you. press run wild. domino tipped. pramac pissed off. ducati SWEATING.

AND i guess the ducati CEO (claudioooooo) was there. and some big sponsorship guys (audiiiiiii) were there. and it has been LONG been reported that gigi daligna really wanted marc for that seat (and that pecco REALLY didnt lmao). like bad. some would say carnally. and then i guess they looked at his data. and thought about how well he had already adapted to the gp23. and how badly he was beating bez and company. and i suppose the idea of actually losing marc and him going to a KTM or an aprilia scared the actual genuine NIPS off of these guys and literally by sunday night they had apparently called jorge martin to let him know that it wasnt going to be him and he went over to aleix and got that aprilia contract signed genuinely immediately (and enea later signed with ktm and pramac with yamaha). so the aprilia news was announced on monday and we knew marc was the choice from that, and then they announced it officially in the dumbest smuggest little video of all time a lil while after. but not before marc took a selfie in a shirt that said FACTORY PILOT that he later lied about and said wasnt on purpose. king. done and dusted. insanity.

so to recap: in the course of four days, marc essentially pulled a coup out of thin air by just. deciding to exercise some muscle with the press, which caused ducati to lose two bikes, secured the best seat on the grid for himself, and made sure that two of the riders that finished top four in this year's championship (including the CHAMPION) are on much worse machines going into next year. like he literally created the best possible outcome for himself by virtue of his reputation, media savvy, and sheer force of will. it was absolute crazy shit and SO much fun to watch play out live

[keeheauxtales]

We can just keep talkin' 'bout the last time

You were here, what we did

No sleep till morning

Only bubble baths and back rubs 🔞

— “So Anxious” - Ginuwine

pairing: soft!dom!Keeho x fem!bodied!reader (with switch vibes)

genre: tub sex :) established relationship smut with minimal plot, y’all know the vibes?

word count: ~1.8k

content warnings: dirty talk, cunnilingus, nipple play + underwater handjob!, dick riding, edging, multiple orgasms (fem receiving), a bit of breeding 🫢 (& thus ‘daddy’ is used, among other nicknames)

author’s notes: I’m kinda making this a prologue of a new project of sorts titled my “S.I.S (Self-Indulgent Series).” A bit of excuse for me to start writing more of what I wanna write – for me, but y’all get the pleasure of reading it! 😅 also: guess who just finally figured out how to make the text smaller like I’ve seen so many other awesome writers do?! 🙌🏾😂

—————————————————————————

9:38pm

Attachments: 3 Images

“wanna join me? 😉🛀”

Your phone lights up with these lovely invitations masquerading as text messages as you sit in the hotel room across the hall from your boyfriend. A smirk creeps along your face as you rise up from your bed to discard of whatever clothes you have on. Throwing on a robe that typically rests in the room’s closet, you grab your phone and room key, and briskly make your way to your lover.

When you open the bathroom door, you’re greeted with the same thing those pictures were alluding to, along with a more delighted expression on the face of its sender. Keeho spots your bare shoulders as you had positioned your robe lower the moment you entered his room. “Well,” Keeho starts, “glad you decided to come over.” He hovers his phone over the bathroom floor before you take it into your own hands to bring it over to the counter with your items. “There’s only a couple things keeping you from where I want you to be,” he states, dragging a finger along your height in the air.

You gradually peel the robe (thing #1) off of your body before beginning to close the distance (thing #2) between you and the warm water that has already been enveloping your boyfriend, eventually stepping in to join him.

Soap-covered hands immediately emerge from the aforementioned water the moment that second leg is inside of the tub, caressing and pushing your thighs as far apart as can be allowed. You’re briefly stunned before catching Keeho’s wanton gaze trailing up every inch of you before his eyes finally meet yours.

“Don’t sit yet, babe, wanna taste you…” And just like that, Keeho spits on your pussy like it hadn’t already been wet since before he sent those pictures. He drags his tongue leisurely along your entrance, and as you set a foot up along the edge of the tub, you let out a long, loud moan you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you blurt out, feeling Keeho’s tongue enter your dripping folds with incredible efficiency. You feel intense vibrations from beneath you as Keeho journeys up and down your inner cavern, moaning at how good you taste. You admire his consistency, how he enjoys you every single time like it’s your first time all over again. “Don’t stop…” you moan out, “until I cum in that f-filthy mouth of yours…”

Keeho only has it in himself to hum against you in compliance before beginning to make out with your cunt. You start to feel your legs shake as his big hands inadvertently lather your thighs with soap, caressing them while he sucks sweet juices – and even sweeter sounds – out of you. He raises his hands behind you to your lower back, giving you full reign to grind against his face, roping your fingers into his wet hair for some sort of leverage before throwing a leg over his shoulder.

The reality of him being the source of your evident pleasure riles him up further as his own moans match the magnitude of yours. Drowning out the wetness of the water itself is Keeho’s mouth unabashedly pervading your wetness, and by the time you regain consciousness you didn’t know you had lost, that knot in your stomach begins to tighten.

“Yes, Kee… Oh shit… Yeah… Fuck!” Before you could even warn him like you tend to do, you cry out as your legs quiver, exploding into his mouth just like you had wanted. You whimper at Keeho as he slurps as much of your essence as he possibly can, moaning lustily into your heat. Big hands grip your ass before he pulls away from you completely, licking his lips as he resumes his position in the tub.

Then I fill the tub up halfway, then ride it with my surfboard…

— “Drunk In Love” – Beyoncé

As you do your best to slowly enter more of your body into the water, you notice it rise by default. With your partner’s permission, you raise the nozzle to empty a small portion of the water before fully submerging yourself into some much needed relaxation.

All the while, Keeho’s hands have been caressing his own thighs underwater in an effort to calm himself down a bit. However, he achieves quite the opposite as your legs land on top of his. Your thighs act like magnets as far as Keeho’s concerned, the way his hands are back on top of them, caressing them just like when you were upright minutes ago.

The both of you cautiously work to close the distance before officially colliding toward the middle of the tub. With Keeho’s hands now going up and down your legs, one of your arms snake their way around his neck. As the other arm trails up and down his back, Keeho leans forward until his lips meld with yours.

Melting into the kiss, you feel yourself settle into the warmth of Keeho’s embrace, his hands now rubbing against your back with the soap lingering atop the water. After a few moments, you guide your hands to his chest, resting along his pecs. Your fingers maneuver around his nipples, thumbs treating them like gears on game controllers before your index fingers join in to pinch them. You hear your boyfriend begin to moan rather loudly, breaking the kiss to callously grunt into your gaping mouth.

“My dick is already so fucking hard for you, and you wanna play with my tits…” Keeho spits out provocatively. “Okay then,” he concludes before mirroring your exact fingering motions on your breasts, eliciting whimpers loud enough to overtake the sound of any wetness beneath you.

Keeho latches his thick lips onto your neck, and subconsciously, your hands leap into the water in search of this ‘hard dick’ he spoke of. You find it in no time, mere seconds after Keeho lowered his mouth onto one of your nipples. You lean back for comfort, and his brain short circuits feeling hands that aren’t his grip his cock underwater. He flicks his tongue rapidly before nipping at your areola as a response.

You release a deep groan from the back of your throat, your hands overworking to win the fight with buoyancy as they aggressively stroke Keeho’s bricked shaft in between the two of you. You feel a bit disgusted, knowing that your leftover arousal is dripping out of your pussy into soapy waters, especially with your thirsty partner shooting doe-eyed glances into your glazed-over stares at any given moment. Miraculously, you feel precum each time your thumb rolls along his tip.

Eventually, Keeho leans back like you did earlier, resting his flexed arms along the tub. You’d be lying your ass off to say that the sight of his toned chest heaving wasn’t turning your legs into mush. His entire stance was inviting you to just pounce on that dick your hands were wrapped around, and you knew it.

You carefully follow that thought, begrudgingly releasing Keeho’s cock from one of your hands for leverage. As a result, his deep moans halt momentarily while you position yourself on his soaking and loaded dick. One of Keeho’s veiny arms assist on your hip before you lower yourself back down, this time boarding the solid member that’s been heavily anticipating your warm cavern of a cunt this entire time.

In a fit of instantaneous weakness, you feel yourself shake once Keeho has entered you, your hands back caressing his neck. His hands slide down your back before they dive beneath your ass, kneading your cheeks. The both of you exhale a slew of obscenities at one another before you start to grind on his lap.

Once you both adjust to one another in this different environment, Keeho wills himself to fuck up into you as slowly as he can allow himself to. All the while, you can’t seem to stop your pelvis from moving, causing the water to splash a bit wildly. Neither of you could care to exercise caution, instead you both grow more and more careless the more you get lost in the lust of it all.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Keeho grunts, sweating around the wet bangs covering his forehead.

“Shit… Fuck, make me cum, baby!” You cry out as Keeho’s throbbing cock reaches your spot in those gummy walls he keeps pulsing deeper into.

“Call me ‘baby’ like that again…” Keeho spits out, already reduced to just sitting back and letting you ride, but not before one particularly deep thrust aimed directly at your clit unlocks another nickname in its stead.

“D-daddy!”

“Oh shit,” Keeho breathed out, feeling like he was drowning in that tub (and would’ve been okay with it after hearing something so rare leave your mouth like that). “You’re gonna fuck around and make me wanna become one for real, keep playing.”

And just like that, you feel a knot tighten deep in your stomach for a second time tonight, almost like it came into contact with your boyfriend’s cock drilled into your hole. “Then cum inside me, Steph,” you breathe in his ear seductively, “no sense causing such a sticky mess in this tub for housekeeping to have to clean up.”

“It may not matter once you’re cumming with me, sweetheart,” Keeho challenges in almost a whisper before he resumes rolling his hips up in time with your body damn near bucking against him.

You accept the challenge with so much composure as you grip the tub with your hand, your pussy gripping every bit of Keeho’s girth. Sensing a climax approaching from the both of you, he lowers himself back into the water with one of his hands clamping your waist, the other starting to squeeze your neck in that freaky progression that teeters between slight discomfort and alarming danger, and you could usually give a fuck… Keeho quite literally couldn’t stand to give a few fucks now.

“Is my baby gonna cum all on daddy’s dick like the good slut she is?”

You hum and nod in response, whimpering over his words.

“And are you gonna let daddy cum inside that tight… little pussy like you said?”

“Fuck, please!” you yell out, briefly realizing that he paused while awaiting your answer.

“‘Please,’ what?” he inquires as his voice drops a notch for an added edge.

“Please cum for me, baby! I want to feel your hot cum inside me, for fucks sake!”

Maybe it was the fact that the water was getting colder around you, or the way Keeho’s cock kept twitching inside of your swollen cunny, while denying himself of his own orgasm in the process, but damn, y’all were desperately determined to find release before leaving this bathtub.

After moaning your name, and lustily reiterating how good your pussy feels around him with his eyes rolling back, he gaspingly asks one more question. “Are you ready for this load, babygirl?”

“Oh god, yes, Kee– I’m cumming,” you exhale, vibrating around your lover as warm semen oozes out of the both of you. Keeho claws at your back as he fucks his own orgasm out, causing a chill to run down your spine as you fall forward onto his chest.

“Aww,” Keeho coos in your ear, smiling as you both unwind like you were planning to in the beginning of this impromptu date, “you did so good, mama.”

[colossalsquidz]

I think my favourite piece of symbolism in rgu will always and forever be the carousel in episode 39. In the intro, you get this awesome shot of Utena and Anthy riding on horses through the sky, and throughout the whole show you’re waiting for that moment to come to fruition.

Horses, of course, are heavily linked to the idea of the prince. Dios is described as a “prince on a white horse,” Touga explicitly states that horses are part of the “prince” persona, Akio and Touga both ride with Utena on a horse when they’re trying to be her prince. And as the protagonist, most viewers will be rooting for Utena to get her own moment of heroism. To break away from Akio’s abuse and become the gallant prince she’s always dreamed of being.

However, when Anthy stabs Utena, this dream is shattered. She says, “You remind me so much of Dios when I loved him. But you can never be my prince, because you’re a girl.” An intentionally cruel jab, rubbing salt in the wound. But also showing Anthy’s mindset, fear of being abused again by someone who wants to trap her in a power dynamic. She loves Utena and believes she is genuinely trying to help her, but still can’t trust her.

This is when the carousel appears. The same motif of the white horse, but this time a crude plastic simulacrum, going around and around in circles. Utena has been sold the idea of the prince as a way to claim autonomy in a patriarchal society, but in the end the “prince” in power only wants to keep everything in eternal stasis. The flying horses in the sky were always a pipe dream, because that’s not what it means to claim power within the framework of this system. A carousel can never advance. A prince can never truly smash the world’s shell, just accumulate power within it.

The nature of the carnival ride and the children’s laughter in the background are also important here, almost mocking Utena in her lowest moment. It reminds me of Akio’s statement that she was merely “playing” at the duelling game, like all this was some childish power fantasy. But we know that’s not true. That’s why Utena is able to pull herself up and make her way to Anthy’s coffin. Dios is the one riding the carousel here, offering Utena false platitudes and beckoning her to accept the way things are, join him in going around and around for eternity. However, Utena’s desire to help her friend trumps her desire to be a hero. To help Anthy has always been her main driving force, and Akio is so cynical that he can’t understand that someone might want to help for purely selfless reasons. Ultimately, this is his downfall.

When the curtain falls and the prince is revealed to be a child on a plastic horse, Utena is disgusted by the farce and accepts the painful reality of her identity being ripped from her and discarded. Because being the prince was never Utena’s goal, it was a means to an end to help Anthy from the very beginning.

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * please, please, please

warnings: set during that one scene from ttc, reader is a minor goddess of music/singing (to fit the sabrina carpenter vibe ykwim?), a bunch of quotes are not mine they are direct from the book so credits to uncle rick!! there’s also a lorelai gilmore reference at the end

pairing: apollo x goddess! daughter of aphrodite and ares

“absolutely not”

you give the sun god a look of pleading and he laughs at your desperation

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

you hit his head “yes you do”

“she’s my dear old sister-” apollo begins

“exactly. along with her hunters and others”

“I don’t see the problem”

“the problem is that you can’t control yourself”

“well when I’m around you…”

“oh my gods!” you hit him twice this time “this is what I’m talking about. you’re an idiot”

apollo ignores your comment and drives (??) the sun chariot to the snowy ground

“I beg you do not embarrass motherfucker” you warn

when you step out onto the wet grass and before you have the chance to greet everyone apollo speaks,

"little sister!" he calls "what's up? you never call. you never write. I was getting worried!"

artemis sighs "I'm fine, apollo. and I am not your little sister"

"hey, I was born first."

"we're twins! how many millennia do we have to argue?"

"so what's up?" he interrupted. "got the girls with you, I see. you all need some tips on archery?”

“I need a favor. I have some hunting to do, alone. I need you to take my companions to camp half-blood”

"sure, sis" he then raised his hands in a stop everything gesture “I feel a haiku coming”

the hunters groaned but nonetheless he held up a dramatic hand and began to speak,

‘green grass breaks through snow

artemis pleads for my help

I am so cool’

he grinned waiting for an applause

“last line was four syllables” you point out

apollo frowns "was it?"

"yes” artemis agrees “what about I am so big-headed?"

"no, no, that's six syllables” he starts to mutter to himself but you ignore it, you could be here for days

one of the hunters, zoe you recognized turned to the demigods and explained how apollo had been into haikus since he got back from japan, and said god interrupted her soon after

"I've got it!" he announced "I am so awesome. that's five syllables!" he bowed feeling pleased with himself

"and now, sis” he continues “transportation for the hunters, you say? good timing. I was just about ready to roll”

"these demigods will also need a ride," artemis points to them

"no problem!" apollo checked them out "let's see... thalia, right? I've heard all about you."

thalia blushes "hi, lord apollo"

‘isn’t that his sister?’ you think

"zeus's girl, yes? makes you my half sister. used to be a tree, didn't you? glad you're back. I hate it when pretty girls turn into trees. man, I remember one time-”

you cut him off with an elbow to his stomach, he winces in pain. a black haired demigod- with sea green eyes to differentiate him from the others, he must be poseidon’s- eyes you before asking,

“are you a goddess? how come I don’t recognize you?”

“minor goddess” you confirm “of music. my parents are ares and aphrodite, and unfortunately I am married to this idiot” you give apollo an angry look but he throws an arm around your shoulder

the daughter of zeus chokes on nearly nothing “married?!”

you nod “twelve years”

artemis speaks again “how she can put up with him is a mystery”

“well we should get going” apollo interrupts

“yes, I agree” you say and pull the sun god’s arm off of you, he frowns at the loss of contact

the hunters and demigods pack up their belongings and you pull apollo to the side, he prepares himself for whatever you’re going to say, which he’s sure will be a scolding because he ignored the one thing you asked of him

“listen-” he starts

“how about I talk you listen?” you cross your arms

this was going to be a long scolding…

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

omfg i’m so in love w your writing 😭 i’d like to request a harvey fic, maybe where they j have a secret relationship, but really everyone knows cause he j goes so soft around the reader (and maybe they get caught making out too, any spice you can add is awesome) tysm!!<3

Thanks, buddy! Here you go :)

Warnings: Smooches?

"Harvey."

"Mm?"

“Are you going to make yourself useful, or are you just going to stand there?”

“I may just stand here. I’m enjoying the view.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head as you shove a box back into its place on the shelf and draw the next out. You pop the top, beginning to finger through the files.

“There’s nothing else that you could be doing right now?” You press.

“Jessica told me to stop hanging around her office.”

“See, that’s strange to me, Mr. Specter.”

“I know, it’s ridiculous. Who wouldn’t want me around?”

“Can’t exactly say you’re being particularly helpful hanging around here right now.”

“I’m not going to help an associate.”

“But you are going to nag me until I’m finished in here? For what? Just to slow me down?”

“How else am I supposed to get my kicks?”

You roll your eyes, drawing a file out of the box and replacing the lid before you push it back into place. You turn, starting past Harvey, only to slow, then still as he grasps your wrist.

“Harvey,” You warn softly, glancing between the shelves. There’s no one else from what you can see, but that doesn’t mean that other people won’t come in.

“Just wait a minute,” He murmurs. His hand slides from your wrist to smooth over your waist. You bite your lip, allowing yourself to lean back against him.

“I have work to do.”

“I’ll let you get back to it in a minute.”

“What’s gonna happen in that minute?”

“You tell me.”

You can’t help but smile as he turns you to face him. His gaze skates your face for a moment before he leans in, pressing his lips gently to yours. For a moment, you let yourself forget how much trouble you could be if anyone walked in right now.

If it were Louis, he’d nail you to the wall—he’d make your life hell, try to goad you into quitting for being Harvey’s little girlfriend—you can practically hear him sneering it now.

If it were Jessica, you’re almost certain you could be let off with a warning, and Harvey would be given a hell of slap on the wrist. She’s already given you curious looks, sidelong gazes when Harvey has openly watched you as you leave a room. She’s asked you about your workload, and the cases tangentially involving Harvey have always had far more pointed questions.

If it were Mike, you’d get a hell of a lot of teasing. He has his suspicions about you and Harvey, sure. He’s asked joking questions, but there’s always been a thread of truth in them. You’re certain that Harvey has confirmed it to him, but maybe Mike thinks that Harvey is taking him for a ride, that there’s no way you’re gotten together with a senior associate when you’ve only just arrived at the firm.

If it were Rachel, you’re certain that you would be teased mercilessly. You know that she knows—that Donna found out, and that the fact has almost certainly been shared with Rachel. Rachel’s never asked you about Harvey outright, but she’s given you sly smiles and winks.

Donna hasn’t asked you about Harvey so much as offered tips—when he’s in a good mood, a bad mood; when he’s hangry; when he’s got his nose to the grindstone and is up against a deadline.

You can’t help but giggle as Harvey steers you back toward a shelving. He grasps the folder in your hand, shoving it onto the shelf behind your head before he takes your face in his hands. You moan softly, reveling in the feeling of his suit jacket as you slide your arms around his shoulders. You really ought to go, but as Harvey teases his tongue between your lips, you’re almost certain that you won’t be leaving anywhere any time soon—

“Ahem.”

You jolt, nearly biting Harvey’s tongue as you draw back from him. Your face goes hot as you spot Donna at the end of the aisle, her arms crossed around her chest as she cocks a brow at the two of you.

“Louis is looking for that file," She nods toward it, "And he’s on the warpath.”

“Oh, shit.” You turn, straightening your clothing and turning, grabbing the file and hurrying toward the door. “Thanks, Donna!”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t get a thank you?” Harvey calls after you as you reach the door.

“Absolutely not!”

[frost-queen]

The moment I knew // part 7 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cayt0123, @powwowsworld, @yomamacrusty, @mileyy22, @omgsuperstarg, @helen06dreamer, @misscaller06, @l4venderia, @dracoflaco, @loliakeoghan23, @emotionaldamageemotionaldamage, @reallysparklychaos, @ok-boke, @the-fifth-marauder7, @asgards-princess-of-mischief, @cherrysxuya

Summary: The social season goes on continuing with another ball. Yet this ball holds some surprises. Will it make a change for the better? [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3& part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10 ]

Tap

Tap

Tap

Tewkesbury tapped his finger mindlessly against the hard glass. His mind somewhere else, vision unclear. The upmost bored expression on his face. He heard his grandmother tsk loud for him to change his posture. – “Sit up straight boy!” – she called out as the carriage took a turn, riding on a gravely road. When Tewkesbury wouldn’t move she revealed her fan, giving him a hard slap against the hand with it.

“Au!” – Tewkesbury snapped awake, startled by the sudden whip on his fingers. His grandmother hummed loudly with a glance that it was his own fault. He exhaled deep rubbing his poor fingers. He straightened his posture, leaning back against the fabric as the carriage toggled a bit. His grandmother gave him a look for off judgement. Tsking her tongue again.

Tewkesbury tilted his head slightly knowing she just had a comment burning on her tongue. – “It’s the third ball already. When are you going to show any REAL interest in a young woman.” – she emphasized on the matter of real. – “I sure hope you don’t thinking to form an alliance with that wild girl.”

Tewkesbury knew she was referring to Enola. – “She was quite nice to return my child back to me, but good heavens her features aren’t standard. She has a heart too wild. Marrying a girl like that will only give you trouble, I’ll give you that.” – she spoke glancing out of the window. The skies light dimming out. A greyness colouring all that was bright away for the night to take over.

Tewkesbury turned to look out of the window. Watching the street lights being lighted up with their bright fires. Two men standing on a ladder to give the lantern light. A couple walking arm in arm just passing them by. – “What about the season’s diamond? She isn’t the fairest…” – his grandmother brushed her skirt with her gloves.

“Whatever possessed the queen to chose her. No foul words to her majesty.” – she quickly added as if speaking ill of the queen would cause her harm. – “Yet, she would be a good match. Marrying the season’s diamond always hyphen’s up once’s status.”

Tewkesbury sighed deep as a sign of protest. He wasn’t at all interested in the season’s diamond. There was only one calling his heart, yet she no longer wishes to commit herself to him. Perhaps it was partly his fault. He still didn’t know what possessed him that faithful night at the first ball. He had been exciting all day eager to see you again. A year. An entire year he hadn’t seen you. Only making him yearn for your presence more. It was nice to have you around. His feelings still a bit unclear at that moment. In the beginning it was merely out of boredom.

That was how it all started at the opera. The moment he found a willingly victim to laugh with him. To make the dreadful opera bearable. At first he teased a lot. Playing in on the signals you were sending him. A young girl gushing over a boy. Probably the first boy around her age she had met. As girls at that age were, falling hopelessly in love with each boy that flashed them a smile. Then he started to get to know you better. See more sides of you.

It was perhaps then that he had already started to fall for you, yet it wasn’t known to him yet. A bundle of feelings he couldn’t name yet, tumbling in his stomach. Spiralling and tumbling. It became clear to him the moment you returned the acorn to him. That stupid thing he foolishly had given to you in exchange for his ring. His father’s ring he should’ve never parted from.

Holding the acorn in his hand and watching you dance with someone else made him realize what he was losing. How much nights he had wasted with not being near you. It had created a drift between the two of you. – “No foolish sauntering this time. I expect you to be married off by the end of the season. It is my dying wish.” – she had clasped her hands together, looking up to the ceiling. Tewkesbury scoffed silently.

“To have me out of the house.” – he mumbled to himself. – “What was that boy?” – she snapped at him. – “Nothing grandmother.” – he responded quickly avoiding her stern eyes. – “Thought so.” – she flapped out needing to have the last word. Tewkesbury turned to look out of the window again seeing how much the sky had darkened already. The blinding estate of the next ball coming up in sight.

You had followed your siblings inside. Hand on Anthony’s arm. He sighed loud upon entering. You quirked your lips teasingly up. – “Oh how dreadful it is.” – you acted out dramatically with the back of your hand against your forehead. Your little act made Anthony look at you, puzzled. – “Another ball I have to keep my sisters save from. God forbid they find a match and leave from under my wings.” – you added sounding as silly as you could.

Anthony stared in shock at you as Francesca laughed loud. – “It isn’t funny.” – Anthony told you sternly. It made you press your lips together to withhold yourself from laughing at him. – “Oh come on Anthony.” – Benedict pitched in grabbing him by the shoulder. – “I thought Y/n did a great performance of you.” – he chuckled afterwards squeezing his fingers in Anthony’s shoulder. You let go of him arm, standing in front of him to curtsy as if being applauded.

Anthony brushed Benedict’s hand off him with annoyance. – “Poor Anthony being so teased by his younger siblings.” – Colin interfered wanting to have a say in it. Anthony turned to look at Mother. Violet tried her best to hide her smile, yet failed miserably. To Anthony’s annoyance as he stormed off. – “Oh Anthony don’t be so… it was a mere tease.” – Violet called out going after him.

Benedict came to your side, holding his palm up to you. You pressed your palm against him, snickering at your own tease. Arms locked in you followed mother who tried to reach Anthony. Anthony took halt by a set of vases. Half filled with flowers and peacock feathers. Francesca came running up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. – “You are so easily teased.” – she said with a smile. Anthony looked up to the ceiling not wanting to give in, but when you joined her.

Wrapping your arms around him at his other side, he couldn’t withhold himself anymore. Holding both of you for a warmful hug. The moment was ruined when Benedict decided to join in from behind, giving him a good squeeze. Nearly making him fall forwards. He nudged his elbow back at Benedict to get him off his back. Benedict let go of him, winking at you. Benedict stretched out making Anthony roll his eyes at him.

“I thought you had learned manner yet.” – Anthony spoke. Benedict lowered his arms from stretching up. – “Oh brother you must know me.” – he chuckled out giving him a hard slap against his back. A gentleman came over around Colin’s age. He invited him for a game of cards. Colin accepted dragging Benedict with him.

You stood with Francesca and mama, watching the dancers. A girl you had met before once came running over. – “They have peacocks in the garden!” – she called out unable to control her enthusiasm. Francesca and you looked at each other with delight and shock. – “Girls!” – Mama called out the moment the two of you started to run. Wanting to get to the gardens and see a peacock for real. – “Oh I wish it would open it’s feathers.” – Francesca huffed out pressing herself between people to get across.

Holding onto her hand tightly, you were behind her, trying to squeeze through those your sister just went passed. You were near the glass doors that lead up to the stone pedestal with steps downwards into the gardens. Many people wished to gaze upon the peacocks to be found in the garden. Francesca and you came to a brief halt as you locked eyes with a certain girl on your right.

The one who had danced with Tewkesbury. Her expression neutral. She went on going through the glass doors as Francesca followed taking the doors on the left. You had remained still, allowing your hand to slip out of hers as she got swept up in the crowd. Somehow the moment seemed ruined. No longer you contained any excitement for the animals. Moving a bit backwards, you went back further in.

Yet you didn’t wish to return to your mother who was clearly searching for Francesca and you. Neither did you wish to return to your brothers. Not even being allowed in the rooms where they played cards and gambled on the side. It was a secret, a hush-hush but everybody knew about it anyways. You decided to leave the ballroom for what it was. The music fading out when you went into the corridor. Most of the doors were closed. Others were open.

A group of people chattering and laughing loud with drinks in their hands. You passed them all feeling no need of entering a room full of strangers without the presence of your brothers. By the end of the corridor you were intrigued by a door partly opened. Not enough to peer inside, but wide enough to see a warmth glow come from inside of it. You neared the door staring through the creak to have a look inside.

Eyes widening at the sight of Tewkesbury. You gasped loud when he suddenly turned around spotting you. It had startled you, making you bump your shoulder against the door and trying to make a run for it. Tewkesbury hastened himself to the door, opening it more. – “Y/n!” – he called out. It made you stop. – “I mean Miss Y/n.” – he corrected himself. You took a step forwards not sure if you wanted to be around him. A second step was impossible as you felt a force keep you in place by your skirt.

Looking over your shoulder down, you saw Tewkesbury’s grip on your skirt. Your gaze went up to meet his. Full of sadness his eyes were. Perhaps yours were too. – “Please…” – he whispered, a hush almost unheard. Taking a deep breath, your shoulders slouched down. Unspoken you followed him back into the room, not sure why you did. The room was not that grand. Rather small. An armchair and small table positioned in the room.

White curtains with patterns on them. Here and there some trinkets. You went to sit down on the armchair, hands folded in your skirt. Tewkesbury stood up straight looking down at a small table. It contained a perfume bottle and a fan. It felt weird. Awkward to say the least. As if you were strangers again. Tewkesbury cleared his throat picking up the perfume bottle. You turned your head to look around the room.

Tewkesbury leaned forwards trying to sniff the smell. Accidently spraying in his face. He coughed loud, waving a hand in front of his face. Setting the perfume bottle back. – “I saw that girl head outside to see the peacocks.” – you said having the urge to cut through the silence. – “Enola.” – Tewkesbury replied as it made you hum confused.

“Oh…” – hearing him say her name made you turn your head away. It felt strange. Strange how your heart still yearned for him. Even in this moment. You wanted to run over to him, leap in his arms and hear him say how much he wants you. Tewkesbury understood the notion of your reaction, looking down at the table. He picked up the fan to occupy himself. – “Where is your suitor?” – he asked. You hummed confused looking up to him. Tewkesbury looked back at you opening the fan with a smooth movement.

It made you blink startled. – “That boy you danced with.” – Tewkesbury flapped the fan at himself keeping his eyes on you. – “I’m sure he has proposed by now.” – He went on unable to stop himself from yearning for you. For hoping you’d contradict his words. As a response you snorted loud. It made him curl up a smile not fully understanding what was this amusingly. – “I’ve danced with him once. Let’s not get too far ahead.” – you responded with a smile.

Tewkesbury’s smile got brighter feeling the tense atmosphere from before falter. – “Besides he’s not a prince.” – you added with a smile. – “Or a Viscount.” – Tewkesbury whispered out of ears reach. – “Enola seems nice.” – you told him. Tewkesbury flashed the fan in front of him again near his cheek. To you unknown, but to him full of words.

“She’s a terrible dancer.” – he commented making you laugh. – “Laugh all you want, I have the bruised toes to speak for me.” – he added as you started to laugh even harder. Hearing your laugh made him smile widely. In this moment it felt like heaven to him. He drew the fan down his cheek again to you. – “What are you doing?” – you questioned seeing it was the third time he had performed it. – “Fanning.” – he responded with a cheeky smile. – “It is hardly warm here… unless you are doing something else…” – you answered.

“Nothing else.” – he muttered out, looking away. Having a sense of time, you got up. Tewkesbury hasting him to your side. – “My siblings must wonder where I am.” – you spoke hearing your heart thump louder in his presence. – “Of course.” – he answered staring smitten down at you. You wanted to open the door as Tewkesbury was ahead of you. Opening it for you and allowing you to walk out. You went on, looking briefly over your shoulder back to him.

Unable to hide the fact you still much desired him. Your plans of marrying him still present, never buried away. You entered the ballroom once more. You watched a few more dances with mama at your side. Then there was a sudden announcement. Maken everyone hasten outside. The sky full dark now. Starless and cloudless. A blank canvas ready to be painted in with delights.

You neared the already standing crowd. Mama spotted Francesca going over to her. Not far from her you noticed Enola. Getting on the tips of your toes, you couldn’t help but see if Tewkesbury was near her. A part of you hoping he wasn’t. Your brothers were coming outside too, laughing loud. Colin holding a little sack in his hands. Probably the coins he had won with gambling.

They were getting behind some people to wait for what was to come. Setting your heels back down, you felt a presence near your right. Slowly letting your gaze go to your right to see who it was. Your heart leaped, expression softening when he stood beside you. Tewkesbury. Staring right back at you. Half a smile on his lips.

A whistle went off followed by a loud blow. It startled you and Tewkesbury as the night sky busted with colours. First a bright red. Then a bright blue. Tewkesbury and you looked up to the sky as the fireworks exploded. Bright yellow, green and red filled the night sky. Colours popping in the air. People were pointing and reacting startled with laughter.

You were amazed by the colours, watching them with excitement. A gentle nudge against your knuckles made you dim your enthusiasm. Trying to figure out what it was doing to you. Another nudge against the back of your hand. Pressing gently against your hand. A tingle went up your spine as you continued to watch the fireworks.

Slowly turning your palm and stretching your fingers out. Fingers glided over yours as they caught your hand. Another firework popped as the green colours reflected on your faces. Two hands intertwined for no one to see. Standing together in a heaven of bright colours.

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