#there were barely moments to focus on between them which i really like writing to expand on them but

[taylor-titmouse]

2024 Book Retrospective

i did this last year for all the books i released in 2023, and i've been looking forward to doing it again for this year because it was Such a wonky ride. i released 3 new novellas, collected 3 old ones in a new illustrated release, put out a new freebie, and dipped my toes into artbooks for the first time. that's not even including the multiple extra things i wrote this year but will release next year. it felt to me like i barely got anything out in 2024, but looking back i really did plenty.

anyway let's get into it! these will probably contain spoilers for the books because i want to talk about them openly. if you haven't read them yet... they're on sale for 40% off until the new year!

The Masson Circle Collection (1-3), released in January

so! we started out the year with this updated version of some of my earlier works. daffodils, carnations, and laurels were among my first forays into publishing novellas, and were the last of my romances before i transitioned more deliberately into erotica. the distinction is practically arbitrary since i do still write about people in love, but it's not the focus so much as the sexual titillation.

but anyway. because these were romances and not Porn (despite having explicit sex in them), and because they came out before i'd really hit my stride as an erotic author/illustrator in 2021/2022, they never got the attention i'd have liked for them! they were the last before i made the switch to properly illustrating my books; they had sketchbook sections at the back instead. i started the roger crenshaw series shortly afterward, which is when my work really took off. so it's like these stories just missed their window.

but i wanted people to read them! these stories and characters are dear to my heart and i felt like they deserved a fair shake, so i spent a month or so at the end of 2023 revising the text to be closer to my standards (though they were pretty good to start with!) and made 30 new illustrations for it. i kept myself Busy getting this ready. it would be a huge release to kick off the new year!

.... and then it didn't do very well anyway. lmao. maybe i priced it too high, maybe i didn't hype it enough, maybe it's because as much as i love all the characters, they're hard to draw and not as exciting as a monster of the day. who knows! but i'm glad i did it, if only for myself. as i've said, these stories were important to me and my growth as an author. if you like historical queer romance with a crime thriller edge, something like kj charles (because she was my biggest inspiration at the time) you should check these out! i promise they're really good despite being on the older side.

The Long Road, released in May

boy that's a big gap between january and may. so what happened there is i actually wrote the night guest first in january-february, and then the long road in march-april. but IMPORTANTLY, i learned my editor @petitemortality was going to become available for work again in april. it'd been probably a year since i'd had his hands on my work and i was Gasping for it. i've compared it to receiving the sponge treatment--just being put through the wringer and coming out So much better for it after a year of bad habits and complacency building up. so basically i put all publishing on hold until he could Fix Me.

and then i ended up rewriting both of those books practically from scratch based on his advice and godddd they really Were so much better for it. it's AGONY in the moment, but the work is worth it. anyway let's talk about the actual work huh.

the genesis of these characters is So funny, because i don't think a single one of them was created for the purpose of this story, rather they all existed as various mobs/nobodies to draw. the goblins and bandits beside vanesse were just designs i used a few times when i wanted to draw characters getting gangbanged. vanesse and angre were created Just for a patreon suggestion of "trans femme bandit queen fucking a trans masc knight". and tourmaline only exists because i wanted to draw a princess getting gangbanged and eveline didn't feel "right" for it anymore. and i ended up with this perfect mishmash of characters that slotted together into a story so naturally that i remember waking up in the middle of the night and banging out the outline in the notes app before falling back asleep and starting to write it the next day.

and it was received pretty well! it had a ton of buildup from me drawing the characters constantly for the duration of the writing and doing a ton of public worldbuilding for dwarves. god i love the worldbuilding for the dwarves. i'm desperate to get deeper into it, i just need to find the story for it. and the goblins. everybody loves the goblins and so do i. and vanesse. ahhhhh.... i'm just so fond of everybody in this book lol. just a big confluence of Toys.

oh yeah and since last year i picked favorite scenes, i think my favorite is angre's internal monologue at the start of his chapter. we get a lot of the worldbuilding there (so of course i like it) but also the Point of the book comes together. i'd struggled a lot with that whole bit in the first draft, but the final draft really just *chefs kiss* it works, for me.

The Night Guest, released in July

as i mentioned before i actually wrote this one much earlier into the year! and immediately had known it wasn't ready, and so backburnered it for months until my editor could essentially fix it. and he fixed the hell out of it. it was a directionless mess in the first draft because i hadn't figured out the characters' voices, what they actually wanted, why they behaved how they did, none of it. it was his idea to structure it more deliberately like an old folktale of a woman outwitting a best, and it snapped into place. of course it was a nearly total rewrite that added like 7000 words (and to this day i'm still not sure how) but it was completely worth it. i feel like i've said that multiple times in this post but it's always true. i cannot stress enough how much i was gasping for a good editing. it's like a cleanse.

this is another story that just sort of Happened out of nowhere. mrs. arakawa was a side character in the dragon double feature 2, and people liked her, and asked about her getting her own monster boyfriend, and so toru was born. partially to get practice drawing that bodytype, partially because i think onis are hot, and then the general shape of a story came to me and i started writing it. without a perfectly clear vision of what it would be. and that's how we got to where we were at the start of this. oops.

i have two favorite parts, the first being this illustration:

when toru is describing the oni woman he was supposed to marry. his entire narrative arc and personal struggle was constructed for the purpose of this joke. i agonized for DAYS, maybe weeks, trying to make his motivation of "i didn't want to get married" work with mrs. arakawa's own feelings about marriage and him having to leave at the end and come back and all of that. it was killing me. but it worked out in the end and i'm so happy it did because i still think the joke that he didn't want to marry a shoujo nadeshiko archetype because he thinks she's ugly is fucking hilarious.

my actual favorite scene is him and mrs. arakawa telling each other stories about themselves. i had a lot of fun trying to ape the rhythms of kabuki performance and rakugo with it.

Spring with the Unicorns, released in June

technically this ought to go before the night guest because it came out first but considering i wrote the first draft of the night guest in january *waves hands* it's all loosey goosey anyway

so this came about because i had the idea to do a book called Season's Breedings (so many of my books happen because i thought of a title and worked backwards from there) and it was literally just going to be the breeding habits of fantasy fuckworld creatures arranged by season. i wrote this one first because it seemed the easiest and then it was less than 4k words, and every other story i had in mind was going to be Much More than that and also didn't come together as easily. so on a very last minute whim i illustrated this and threw it out for free on the last day of pride.

it's me at my loftiest because i was going for a sort of third person omniscient fable type beat, because that's what unicorns deserve. i like it, and it's a good little treat to give out for free. especially because everybody loves the unicorns and loves asking me the same four lore questions and i can just say 'go read the free story' lmao.

it's too short to really have a favorite Scene but barberry is my favorite unicorn. just love everything about that guy. angry little bastard.

Poker Night with the Arizona Dogs, released September

it's not prose but it counts! this is the first artbook i've ever released, though technically not the first i ever made. the unicorn stockades series came before it but will be released sometime next year. it's a bit more spring-seasony. but anyway.

these are a lot of fun to make! i am, at my heart, a comic artist (my day job is graphic novels, buy my graphic novel it comes out in february) so telling a single story in multiple illustrations is kind of my bread and butter. and free use/gangbang stuff is like. perfect for it. everybody has to get a turn! and on top of that it lets me play in a space in a way prose doesn't. prose feels so much more official, more canon (which is how i think of the difference between my drawings and my books--books are canon, drawings are not). but with something like this it's easier to say it was just for fun. because it was! it was a lot of fun.

my favorite illustrations were the jackie-ralph licking ones (because i think i did a good job with the mouths and the folds and all) and the one with johnny with his hand over roger's face and hiding his own. jackie-ralph is probably my favorite of the dogs to draw because he's easiest but johnny is certainly my favorite of the Boys.

Objects of Affection, released in December

boy, this one huh! there is so much to say about this one. this one has like three separate catalysts that blasted together at the end of the summer and it just Happened all at once. there was a person requesting variations on "a mechanic taking advantage of an android they're repairing" for a few months on patreon that i kept meaning to do because it kept winning second place. there was another story i wrote that was too short to publish alone that i was like "okay what if i make a sci-fi anthology and one of the stories is robots..." and then i started rereading chobits for inspiration and it Pissed Me Off So Much how little it wants to engage with its own ideas.

and then the sci-fi anthology idea became only about the robots and i never published the original little short (which will come out next year as a freebie). and then my editor's computer Exploded for two months and he wasn't able to edit it ; ; the wait was Agony because this was one i really, Really did not want to release without proper feedback. something fucking Possessed me with this book and what it says about women and consent and masculinity and all the shit. like those are themes i've already touched in my other works, but in this one it was like turning the knob on a pressure cooker.

it's tough to think of what to say about it that i didn't say in the days after it was released. i've always been frustrated with robot stories that preoccupy themselves with the Theory of rights for artificial life and not the reality of rights for the people we already have. i'd watched astro boy 2003 and pluto shortly before starting (so i guess that's actually 4 things that came together) so Robot Rights!! stories were fresh in my mind and i'd found astro boy particularly frustrating with its insistence on pacifism from the oppressed robots as the government and populace kept abusing them. it is very hard to watch something that says "violence is never the answer! don't fight back, choose peace!" while your own country is aiding and abetting a genocide and obsessing over retribution for a single attack born of decades of settler violence as if they are in any way equivalent.

breathes out

so anyway that's why i chose to write about robots who undeniably do not have sapience, humanity, or rights. because we haven't come even close to solving the issue of rights for ourselves, particularly women (an admittedly easier topic to approach in an erotic work than the horrors of racially motivated war). and between chobits, which suggests a world obsessed with androids but doesn't deeply explore the social ramifications of a female-shaped servant class, and my research into real dolls, the closest thing we already have to fuckable brainless androids, there is a lot of material to draw inspiration from. how a person treats an unperson, particularly one shaped like a woman, will reflect upon how they treat a real person, a real woman.

to be less of a bummer and talk about the Stories, ratna's was the first i wrote, and went through the most revisions between drafts as i tried to figure out her whole deal. she was always going to be a stone butch dyke mechanic, so how would that sort of person feel in her line of work? would she be a stereotype of man-hating lesbian, and sympathetic to the android girls she has to send home with them? or would she be an unrepentant sleeze, just as bad as everyone she works for? i think i ended up somewhere in the middle. she doesn't like men, but doesn't think of herself as better for not being one. she thinks she's better because she isn't better, but at least acknowledges it. and figuring that out was important to figuring out the character. and also going in way harder on the beauty of the mechanism. that was mainly for You Guys, but it was crucial to her character working.

touma and shima's story came to me like a lightning bolt as i was leaving for a vacation. it was going to be, if you can believe it, Even More toxic yaoi. touma ws going to jerk shima off from behind as he fucked mari-ko, it was going to be way more explicit that he was mainly attracted to shima. but ultimately none of that served the actual purpose of the book, about treating people as objects and tools, so i dialed it back. but don't get it twisted touma is still insane and obsessed with shima and wants to touch his cock. but the story as it exists is a more realistic place for him to be at.

and samart and marinette's story was pretty much unchanged from first to final draft. the concept waffled a bit before i started writing, where my first idea had been that he makes her participate in taboo fantasies (calling him big brother, telling him no etc) and the narrative basically asking the question--is this wrong? is it better because she's not real, because he's doing it with her and not a real woman? does her 'no' matter if it's a 'no' she was ordered to say? is it worse because she can't meaningfully consent to the play either way? does any of it matter beyond the effect it has on him?

but as much as i'm interested in unpacking those concepts, i decided they would be too difficult for the audience and potentially open me up to scrutiny and abuse, because you can't even breathe the word "incest" without having your doors beaten down. the book as a whole is difficult, and i want it to be difficult, but i didn't want it to become about That. so instead i went with exploring the sort of loneliness and misanthropy of a person who lives the way he does, and i'm satisfied with it. i think it's the sharpest of the three stories.

wow i had nearly twice as much to say about that one than the rest. lol.

but that's it! that's everything i released! as i hinted throughout there were several other things i wrote this year that will see release next year. i have a free short, a $3 short, a novella awaiting editing, and at least two more artbooks to release. there'll be plenty for me to write about in next year's retrospective.

my writing goal for 2025 is to finish a novel. i did actually reach a finished draft with starbuster, the novel i've been pecking at for the past two years, but having done so and mapped out all the work it needs to be submission-ready, i've put it down semi-permanently. it simply needs too much and it's a bit too niche for traditional publishing, and it's in a genre (contemporary) i don't really want to write more of. so the best use of my time is on something else. it's a shame, but it's for the best! hopefully something will crack me upside the head with inspiration and it'll just Happen like all my best work seems to, lmao.

but if you've read all of this, or just read some of it, thank you!! thank you for supporting me for another year, or the first year if you just got here. if you haven't read everything i put out in 2024, it's on sale until jan 1st! go pick it up for cheap!!

[bendarius]

benrius fic idea post s2....ben avoiding darius specifically knowing that he would immediately crack under darius' eyes because he knows him so well....and now that darius knows what hes been hiding darius just. doesn't know how to feel. his supposed crush on brooklynn (that im still writing as comphet) vs ben keeping that from him. a mix of "how could you" and trying to see why he did it, getting into his mindset

this resulting in a cold shoulder as he tries to figure out his emotions (like when kenji came back) and ben just floundering and only having yaz and sammy supporting him since kenji is still so so hurt about everything that he will keep a grudge and darius? does not know how to feel. as always. he feels too much so he puts that on the back burner.

[whiskeyghoul]

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid X Goth!reader]

A/N: self indulgent little fic here. I have been in a writing slump for a few weeks and needed to do something just a little self indulgent. So we have this which has been on my mind for ever. I love Abby Sciuto from NCIS and thought how fun it would be to see our little nerd fall in love with the alternative lab rat of the FBI. This is not proof read or anything so it might not be the absolute best but I just wanted to put something out here again.

WC: 1737

Tags: fluff, crush, first meeting, love at first sight possibly, multiple parts, opposites attract, self indulgent fic, reader is described as female, reader is alternative

Warnings: Mention of human remains.

Read part 2 here, read part 3 here

The music coming from the lab was muffled. Even through the closed door Spencer could hear the barely legible lyrics as he got closer and closer. As he reached the door and knocked there seemed to be no answer. Certain his knocking wouldn’t be heard over the noise that he now recognized as Siouxsie and the banshees. He opened the door. As soon as the barrier between him and the music was lifted it sounded so clear. It was turned up to 11 and he wondered how anyone could even focus with music that loud.

That was until he saw you, swaying along to the music, the white coat exaggerated the movements. Swishing from side to side as you reach for a pasteur pipette while bobbing your head along to the music. You seemed absorbed in the music, focussed on your work leaning over the bench and carefully dripping a clear substance on a piece of paper while still perfectly on beat with the music. Spencer cleared his throat loudly, hoping to make himself known before he interrupted you in whatever you seemed to be doing. Though it didn’t quite reach the decibel level to alert you. “L/N” he called out your last name but once again no response. So he took a few steps closer. Once Spencer was close enough he reached out and softly tapped your shoulder. You jumped in response, whirling around in shock with the pipette in your hands raised like a weapon. Like somehow you would be able to defend yourself with the lab instrument. A yelp falling from your lips. 

“Oh my god! Can’t you knock!” You accused, eyes wide as you placed your free hand on the top of your chest, taking a deep breath. “I did. I also tried to clear my throat to not scare you.” Spencer retorted, his voice raised a little louder so you could hear him over the music. You twirled around, placing the pipette in the holder. “I’m Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He continued loudly. You turned, holding your left hand up to shush him. Your right fishing the remote from your coat pocket. It gave Spencer some time to look you over. 

Your lab coat was about the only light thing you wore. The outfit underneath was black on black on black. A band tee with illegible writing that peeked over a corset, layered with a ripped fishnet top underneath. The abundance of necklaces of all different lengths, cascading down your neck like silver waterfalls. Ripped jeans he wasn’t quite sure were safe for the lab environment, but the skin of your thigh caught his attention. Something inside of him stirring. He fidgeted with his hands in front of his body.

“So… you were saying?” You spoke. Spencer’s eyes snapped back to your face. You looked up at him with big eyes, a small smile accompanying them. The music was turned down now giving him room to think. Though your eyes still made it difficult to really focus. “Oh, I am Doctor Reid, from the BAU.”  He answered after swallowing for a moment. “Ah! You are here for the clothing analysis, right? Penelope mentioned one of the team would come pick it up. Normally it's her or Derek, though I think Derek has complained about hearing loss.” You whirled around while rambling on, pony tail waving behind as you turned, bounding over to a table with scattered papers. Spencer followed close behind, not focussing on the words rather just the tone of your voice, a slight intrigue towards you. He didn’t even know your first name, yet somehow your mannerisms, your unconventional style, it made him want to know more. “Right.” He said, realizing he hadn’t technically answered your questions. 

Spencer looked over your shoulder as you picked up a stack of papers neatly stapled together. He thought he might be a bit too close as he could smell the subtle perfume wafting off of you. Though he also strangely enjoyed it. It was sweet but not overly so. A hint of cherry that was fitting in his eyes. The color of the fruit matching that of your lipstick. As you looked over the paper and began to talk again, “So, the substance that was on the clothes seems to be turpentine. Commonly used in oil painting. The vapors can already cause irritation to the eyes, skin, and airways if exposed to them for longer periods of time.” you rambled off the words as you read them. “There were some other things found on the clothes that coincide with the oil painting. Different pigments and paint residue.” You turned, eyes still on the paper nearly bumping into Spencer as he had been standing so close. When you looked up at him surprised he could feel a tightening in his chest. “Oops, sorry.” You apologized, a small smile on your lips.

You apologized to him while he was the one in your way. “Oh it was my fault. Shouldn’t have stood so close. Sorry.” He muttered. The words falling from his lips unceremoniously. He felt like half of his intelligence had up and left his brain as he talked to you. Not really knowing what to say at that moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides again. His left hand playing with the hem of his cardigan sleeve. He cursed himself internally for being reduced to a stumbling mess in front of you. You kept standing there though. Clearly you had turned around to go somewhere and Spencer had been in your way. Yet he was nailed in place and so, it seemed to him, were you. “Did you know they used to make oil paints with human remains?” You spoke excitedly. Like you had been waiting to tell someone, anyone, that little fact. He knew that. He knew that for a long time yet seeing you, tell him a fact with such delight, made him want to lie. “Now I do.” He answered, his smile matching yours.

“It was called mummy brown. They ground up mummies, both human and animal, and put it in the paint.” You continued. Your voice trailing off slightly after the word animal. You held up the stack of papers to him. “Everything you need is in there. If you need me to clarify something just give me a call. Or stop by whenever you want.” Spencer nods after your sentence. Taking the papers from you his hand touched yours ever so slightly. His brain short circuited for a moment before the neurons started firing accordingly again. “I eh- I don’t have your number.” he stumbled over the words.

As if you realized that in that moment you took a step aside and walked past him. Walking over to a desk and rummaging through a drawer. Spencer walked a bit closer to your desk. No longer being nailed in place by some unspeakable force. You pulled out a thin sharpie, and Spencer raised a brow ever so slightly at that. You walked back over, holding out your hand to grasp his. Spencer placed his hand in yours. His mouth felt incredibly dry for a moment. His tongue was uncomfortable in his mouth. His heartbeat raced faster. Nothing like he had ever really felt before. You could have done it on the papers, or maybe even a sticky note. Yet you decided that his hand would be the perfect place to write down your number. He thought about it for a moment, your hand was soft and warm. You twisted his hand, writing down your phone number along with your name. Once you finished you let go off his hand. Spencer looked at the black numbers, committing them to memory, and your name. God your name would be bouncing around his head for days. “Y/N.” He said, testing the name. It felt right.

“That’s me, you better put that in your phone. These markers are not nearly as permanent on skin. It’s the oils.” You went on, capping the marker as you spoke. “I will. Thank you.” Spencer said and smiled. He stayed standing in place for another moment. Trying to commit you to memory just in case his eidetic memory failed him. He realized he was staring a little and cleared his throat. “I eh… I have to go.” pointing his thumb to the door. You giggled a little, a sound that made Spencer’s cheek heat up a little. “Right, pretty boy, head on out. I need to get back to work too.” You smiled casually. Spencer’s face was only heating up more. He swallowed. The nickname the others used for him sounded so much better when it came from you. He turned around to hide his ever heating face from your sight, walking over to the door quickly. Once in the opening he quickly looked back, giving an awkward wave that you returned with a smile. 

When Spencer entered the bullpen his face had calmed down a little. Not feeling nearly as hot as before. He was able to think clearly again, but when he looked at your number and name on his hand he felt giddy inside. Reaching his desk he sat down, placing the analysis file on his desk. “That took you long enough, pretty boy.” Derek called out from his desk, humor in his voice. The nickname had no effect when he said it. “Sorry, the lab tech… she was explaining some things to me.” Spencer quickly lied. “Alright, can I get the file?” Derek had his hand already out. Spencer gave him the file and Derek’s brows raised at the number scribbled on his hand. “You got her number?” He smirked. Spencer pulled his hand back covering the numbers and your name with his other hand. “If something needed more clearing up.” He retorted. Derek merely chuckled at his awkwardness, “She’s friends with Garcia, you wouldn’t have needed her phone number.” He added with a smirk. Spencer felt his face heat up a little again, embarrassed. He knew that. He knew that he had known that. But in that moment he couldn’t think.

He looked back at his hand. Your name on his skin. A little flutter in his chest kicked up when he did. Derek cleared his throat, making Spencer look up again. Derek pointed at him with his pen, before opening his mouth. “You better call her soon.”

[grapejuicenharry]

HI, could you write a blurb where Harry is a rich businessman and he is really busy with his work etc etc and is really stressed with something so yn goes to him and gives him a blowjob so that he feels good. Something like that?

a/n: sorry it took me a while! but i hope u enjoy it <33

warnings: blowjob, smut, 18+, kissing.

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

It was that time of the month again, the most stressful time for Harry. Mid-November had arrived, and with it, an overwhelming workload. He'd recently fired a few employees, which only added to his responsibilities. Between catching up on finances, preparing presentations, and attending client meetings, the pressure was taking a toll on his health. The air outside was chilly, snow was starting to form, and Harry, running on low energy, desperately needed rest.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company, just at the age of 28, he had his name appearing in Forbes several times. He owned homes in London, Los Angeles, Italy, and New York. But after getting married, he and Y/N chose to live in a luxurious penthouse—Y/N loved the city life and feeling like a spoiled kitten. 

They first met at a business conference, where Y/N was there with her clients, managing a project. The moment Harry laid his eyes on her, he felt a connection. He instantly knew she was the one he wanted as a life partner, the mother of his children.

After their wedding, Y/N decided to leave her job. The constant stress and long hours had been wearing her down. Harry supported her choice completely, happy to see her take a break and enjoy life. Now she could relax at home, focus on their relationship, and indulge in the luxury that Harry’s success provided.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Throughout it all, Y/N had been his rock. She supported him at every turn, stepping in whenever he was overwhelmed. She made sure he was taken care of—preparing healthy soups, ensuring he took his medicines on time, and giving him massages whenever his body felt sore and achy. She understood when he was too drained to talk or spend time with her, simply letting him rest his head in her lap, where she would gently scratch his scalp until he fell asleep.

Despite his gratefulness, Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew he wasn't spending enough time with Y/N. There were days when they barely exchanged a word, and even when she asked if he was okay, all he could muster was a tired nod. He tried-he really did— setting aside at least an hour from his hectic schedule to be with her, but his heavy eyelids, sunken eyes, and pounding headaches often got the better of him. Still, he knew Y/N understood; she stayed by his side, making sure he didn't collapse under the weight of his responsibilities. He felt blessed to have her as his wife.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Today, Harry was working from home. He had been in online meetings since seven in the morning, and it was now eleven. Y/N had brought him coffee and breakfast earlier, giving him a quick peck on the cheek, like the good wife she was. But after five straight hours of him being hold up in his study, she decided he needed to take a break. He needed to rest, and she had an idea she'd been wanting to try for a while.

Entering the room quietly, she was dressed in one of Harry's old T-shirts that said safe sex and a pair of tiny shorts. Her sock-clad feet tapped softly against the hardwood floor as she approached. Harry's eyes were glued to his laptop, his hair messy atop his head, glasses slipping down his nose, like he hasn’t gotten the time to push them. Hearing her, he looked up, a tired but soft smile curving his lips. "Hi, baby," he greeted.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his gentle tone. His voice never fails to excite her. She circled around the table and settled onto his lap. "Hi," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and inhaling his scent. "I miss you."

"Mmm," Harry hummed as she threaded her fingers through his hair, the gesture immediately easing some of the tension in his head. She pulled back slightly, adjusting his glasses and gazing into his tired eyes.

"You need a break, Harry. You've been working non-stop for hours. You deserve to relax," she insisted, ending her words with a kiss near the corner of his lips.

Harry's smile widened in amusement. He knew she was right—his body was sore from sitting in one place all morning. "And how do I relax, baby?" he asked, lacing their fingers together and kissing her knuckles. "Are you here to help me unwind?"

"Y-yes," she whispered, surprised he didn't need convincing. Her confidence wavered for a moment, but she pushed her nerves aside, determined to follow through with her plan. "Let me help you relax, Harry. I want to." 

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his jaw, trailing wet kisses down his neck, nibbling his earlobe—a spot she knew he loved. Harry's head tipped back slightly, giving her better access, his eyes fluttering shut. Her nails lightly grazed his toned abs under his shirt, making him shiver. "Fuck," he muttered, voice low.

He pulled her close and kissed her deeply;the kiss was a heated mess of tongues, teeth, and moans. His hand slipped under the hem of her shirt to get rid of it—but she pulled back with a teasing shake of her head. Sliding off his lap, she kneeled before him, his eyes widening as he realized what she had in mind.

"What are you doing, baby?" he asked, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

"Helping you relax," she whispered, parting her lips and taking his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice husky. "Yes, I'm sure.” that all the encouragement he needed. He withdrew his thumb, smirking.

 "Filthy girl, my filthy girl," he murmured while shaking his head, his words sending a jolt of arousal straight to her core. "This was just an excuse, wasn't it? You just wanted my cock in your mouth."

A whimper escaped her lips at his words, her panties already damp with arousal. "Take me out," he ordered. Without hesitation, she fumbled with his shorts, pulling down the zipper and freeing his hard length. She swipes her thumb on his tip, and licking it off, Harry’s eyes darken with lust, eager to see what she does next.

Y/N licked a slow, deliberate path from the base to the tip. She kissed the tip before taking it into her mouth, sucking it gently. She starts prepping kisses along the length before taking it in her mouth. "Fuck, baby. Just like that," Harry groaned, his head falling back as he tangled his hand in her hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail without pushing her down, letting her set the pace.

"My good girl," He breathes out praise, encouraging her, while running his hand through her hair. In response, she moans out, the vibrations bringing him close, making him grip her hair tighter. The praises made her pussy clenching around nothing. Her own arousal pooled between her thighs, and she squeezed her legs together in a desperate attempt to relieve some pressure.

She popped his cock out of her mouth briefly, taking a deep breath before returning to him, this time taking one of his balls into her mouth, licking and sucking gently. Harry's hips bucked involuntarily, hitting the back of her throat. "Sorry," he panted.

"Don't hold back. Fuck my mouth," she whispered, looking up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Harry smirked, "Yeah? You think you can handle it, baby?"

She nodded, unable to respond with her mouth full. That was all the confirmation he needed.  He gripped her hair and began thrusting gently, fucking her face at a steady pace. Y/N focused on breathing through her nose, taking him deeper in her throat, her hands stroking what she couldn't fit into her mouth. His breathing grew heavier, moans escaping his lips. Y/N knew he was close, so she starts fondling with his balls, squeezing them in her palm. The sound of his moans and her gagging filled the study. Y/N, thank heavens the housekeepers went off early today. 

"I'm gonna cum, baby." he warned, his thrusts growing sloppy.

"Cum," she urged, her voice muffled. With a groan, he released into her mouth, “Y/N,Y/N—fuck, so good, so good baby.” He pants with a loud cry.  warm spurts filling her. She keeps sucking him until he's completely dry, making sure to take every drop. She swallows without hesitation, the familiar salty taste not bothering her at all. His eyes softened as he looked down at her, her teary eyes, lips glistening with him. He wiped the drool from her chin.

"Are you relaxed now?" she asked with a small smile.

Harry chuckled, pulling her up onto his lap. He kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "So relaxed," he murmured, pecking her lips again. "So relaxed."

They both laughed, his silliness lightening the room's heavy air.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

[finalgirllx]

thought you hated me | mattheo riddle entry 1 of a little anthology series i am starting with mattheo. as a way to practice writing without committing to a long series, i'll be writing a few blurbs for him based on the 'enemies to lovers' trope. 1.1k words | nsfw | minors dni | f!reader this is also a thank you for 2000 followers, like holy cow. that's insane. thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has supported my nonsense.

"Hey, hey! Watch it! The recipe calls for a scoop of rose petals, not the entire bloody jar," you scold the curly-haired prick. He abided by your warning, much to your surprise, but not without tilting the jar above the cauldron a few extra times just to savor your irritation. You can't help but wonder what past mistakes led you to be doomed by fate to be partnered with Mattheo Riddle for potions class.

The whole school was aware of your mutual hatred, and neither of you made any effort to conceal it. It had been this way for so long that you couldn't even pinpoint why you hated him. Well, besides his utterly insufferable personality and a pisspoor attitude that not even his stellar good looks could redeem.

"He's an arrogant prick." "What a wretched tart." "A hotheaded muppet." "An absolute menace to civil society."

These were just a few recent jabs exchanged between you, either spoken directly or whispered through the grapevine. As long as everyone knows how much you despise each other, it suffices.

After your taunt over the rose petals, Mattheo's gaze bore into you beneath impossibly full eyelashes before he released a huff of pure disdain at your rigidity.

"You can piss off with that attitude. I say the one of us who didn't cause an explosion in class last week gets the bigger say over our potion-making," Mattheo countered, to which you promptly stood at attention and turned to face him, hands planted firmly on your hips.

"If that's the qualification, then I've had the upper hand practically every week this entire term! I cause one explosion, and you think you're all that," you argued back, to which Mattheo responded with a tired eye roll before he fixed his spiteful gaze fully on you.

"Well, I do have the right. Especially when you caused the explosion by staring at Cormac fucking McLaggen while biting your lip like an idiot," he grumbled, his voice lowered but the intensity still sending a shiver down your spine. You knew the implications of his words and that the facade could crumble under the man's temper in moments if you didn't tread forward lightly.

"Yeah, well, I don't see why you'd care, but I'll keep my eyes off of him," you begrudgingly relented with a shrug. You would have given him an earful with just about any other provocation, but what he could risk revealing over this wasn't worth continuing to bicker over.

"Good girl," Mattheo purrs the next time he leans closer to grab an ingredient, quiet enough so only you could hear, causing the heat rising between you to stay put. "Guess I'll need to find another reason to cave the bloke's face in," he adds, much to your dismay. You wanted to say something then, but the professor's perfectly timed interjection to order you both to focus on your work momentarily set the matter aside. -----------------

"Are you really going to make an arse of yourself and beat up Cormac if he and I so much as exchange a glance?" You questioned Mattheo incredulously as he hastily pulled you into a nearby empty broom closet with little resistance from yourself. The door had barely clicked shut before he tore off his robe and moved on to remove yours.

"You want to fucking try something? See how that works out for you, I'll make your ass red for weeks," Mattheo growled into your ear as his hands roamed your still-clothed torso, finding purchase on your breasts as he began to knead them, growing desperate for skin-to-skin contact. Your insolence had gotten him painfully turned on, urging him to handle your attitude with touches he knew would render you pliant. The whimpers his groping solicited from you had become the answer to his prayers.

This little arrangement had become second nature to you by now. You give Mattheo lip, which gets him riled up, so you both seek a release for your pent-up frustrations by way of you taking his dick. Each time, without fail, you two agree that this would be the last time. But having 'hated' each other for so long, you know just how to test the other's patience, him becoming as weak to your taunts as you are to his touch.

"Care so much about who I'm looking at, huh?" you mocked Mattheo as he attempted to undo the buttons on your top, his thought capacity overridden by lust. "I thought you hated me," you continued to bait him with a hint of amusement to mask the genuine curiosity for what he might say. A gasp escaped you when Mattheo removed one hand from your chest to take your chin in between two fingers, lifting your head to meet his eyes that were already ruining you in his mind. He pressed his body against yours, letting you feel his hardness through his trousers.

"You know I fucking hate you," Mattheo replied through gritted teeth, his ferocity laced with arousal. "Doesn't mean anyone gets a glimpse of what's mine."

Your lips pulled into a smirk contentedly in response, not the least bit intimidated by him. In fact, you were pretty proud to have evoked such a reaction out of him. Sure, maybe you felt afraid for Cormac, but after witnessing Mattheo Riddle get on his knees to beg for your pussy, it had become difficult to take his threats seriously. The man was down bad, and you relished in the way you could reduce him to a needy mess, though he probably felt similar when you turned into a babbling slut every time he made you cum on his cock. If anything, the rage made you just as greedy for him as he was for you.

You took the lead in removing the rest of your top, freeing Mattheo so he could bury his face in your neck, latching on and sucking the skin to leave noticeable, possessive marks. He proceeded to cover you with hot kisses that trailed further down your chest, with each unclasped button giving him more space to work with until your top was fully removed and strewn on the floor with abandon. He sunk to his knees before you, letting you ensnare one hand in his hair to brace yourself as he took the peak of one of your breasts in his mouth, which brought a moan from your lips. Forgetting the animosity and allowing pleasure to take over, you've all but given up on believing that this time would be the last.

[atydblack]

"hands"

professor remus lupin x reader

masterlist (requests are open!)

heres an older remus x reader fic! pls send in some requests like give me a character and a kink or an idea and ill try my best to write it <3 warnings: smut, age gap, professorxstudent (consenual) MDNI

Professor Lupin sat at his desk in his office as you approached him. Your cheeks were blushed red at the sight of him staring intently at your papers in his hands.

"Hi, Professor." You spoke quietly as you took a seat next to him. You had been failing miserably at his classes to the point he's had to give you extra tutoring... not that you could complain.

"Y/N." He gives you a small smile as he places your classwork on his desk. "I understand that you've been having some difficulties understanding the material in my class?"

You nod obediently, ignoring the burning sensation between your legs as you took in his every detail. You used to be top of the class at Defence Against The Dark Arts, alongside every other class. However, since he because your teacher... you could no longer focus on your classwork.

"I see," Remus' eyebrows furrowed as he sat back in his chair, manspreading. "Which chapters have caused you the most trouble?"

Your mind grew hazy as you basically drooled at the sight of him, wanting nothing more than to place yourself on his lap and let him fuck you senseless.

"I-" You stuttered, squeezing your thighs together to relieve some sort of tension. Remus noticed this, his eyes travelling down to your skirt and bare legs. "All of it."

"Even the basic chapters?" His face hardened as you nodded. "I've been looking through your papers from previous years, Y/N... it seems to be a recent issue."

Remus shifted slightly, leaning forwards in his seat. His eyes remained fixed on yours as your cheeks grew red.

"Can I ask you a question, Y/N?" Remus said softly, one hand resting on the arm of your chair making you almost whimper. You glanced at his hand for a moment, visualising all the things he could do with it. Your eyes return to his and you nod obediently.

"Is it really the course material that you're struggling with? Or are there other reasons for your poor performance?" His expression held a hint of curiosity.

"I-I guess I've been a little distracted." You almost mumble, feeling yourself get wet at having his undivided attention.

"Oh," His eyebrows raised curiosity flashing across his face for a second. He spoke almost innocently, his eyes scanning your body once more, taking in your appearance. "Distracted by what?"

"You, Professor." You whimper, feeling completely transfixed under his gaze.

Remus took a quick breath as his chest raised and lowered again.

"Me?" You could tell he was holding back a smirk as he continued to pry and his voice darkened. "What is it exactly that you find distracting about me?"

"Y-you've just been causing some... dark thoughts." You respond quietly.

"Dark thoughts?" He couldn't hold back his smirk anymore. Your breath caught in your through as his hand moved from the arm of your chair to your bare thigh. "Can you specify?"

"Y-your hands." You moan out, opening your legs ever so slightly absentmindedly. You looked down at his hands, they wrapped round your small legs perfectly.

"What about my hands?" As he spoke, his hands travelled inch by inch up your thigh.

"W-when I see them... all I can think about is having them round my throat." You whine, his eyes widening at your words.

"Your throat?" He questioned further, squeezing your thigh.

"And other places." Your eyes returned to his and you realised just how close he was to you.

"Other places?" Remus was now inches from your face.

"My wrists... my waist... my mouth..." You noticed his eyes darken as a subtle grin crept into his features.

"Is that it?" He spoke in a dark voice and you shook your head no obedienty.

"My pussy." You finally let out and in that second he snapped, his mouth attaching itself to yours desperately.

You moaned against his lips as his tongue quickly found yours. His harsh grip on your thigh was replaced with your throat and you felt your brain grow foggy at the lack of oxygen.

Your fantasy was coming true, all those lessons sat with a puddle between your legs imagining Remus fucking you dumb was about to happen.

"Bend over my desk." Remus instructed, breaking away from the kiss.

"Y-yes, Professor." You whimpered, bending over in front of him so your abdomen was placed against the oak and your ass was facing him.

All you could do is whimper as he lifts your skirt to reveal your panties soaked in your own pleasure.

"Fucking hell, kitten." He chuckles, bringing his fingers up to your clothed cunt and rubbing small circles. "Are you always this wet for me?"

You nodded submissively and let out a yelp as he smacked you harshly on your bare cheek.

"Words, kitten." Remus spoke agressively.

"Yes, Professor." You spoke quietly. "I-I'm always wet for you."

He pulled your panties down slowly and you heard his own buckle being undone.

"You didn't think I was gonna reward you, did you?" You can hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks. "Dumb kittens don't deserve rewards."

Remus aligned himself with your pussy, not bothering to touch you beforehand to ease you into it. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up slightly so he could whisper in your ear.

"You want this, kitten?" He whispered. "Tell me you want your Professors cock in your sweet little pussy."

"I want your cock, Professor." You cry, desperate for any kind of stimulation. "Please."

Without a second thought he pushed himself into you, giving you no time to ease into things before thrusting into you.

You tightened around him as he let out a low groan, his cock filled you perfectly.

"Fuck" He muttered, not used to how tight your pussy is. He let go of your hair and grabbed your throat.

"Look how pathetic you are for me, baby." He groaned, quickening his pace. "Open your mouth."

You comply and feel two of his fingers down your throat. You try your best not to cough and choke around them but fail miserable.

"Aw, baby can't you handle it? I thought this is what you wanted?" He speaks sarcastically as suddenly he removes himself from you. You whimper at the loss of contact but he quickly turns you around so you're on your back.

"I-I can handle it." You whine, your brain foggy as he looks at you with a dark grin.

He pushes his cock into you again, this time thrusting into you at a ridiculously slow rate.

"You want me to fuck you properly, huh?" His voice belittling as you nod desperately.

"Yes, Professor."

"Then promise me you'll get your grades up," He smirks. "I don't want a dumb kitten."

"I-I'm not dumb." You whine, raising your hips to his but he quickly forces you down with his big hands.

"Then promise me."

"I-I promise, Professor." You don't have the chance to think twice as he begins fucking you relentlessly.

His mouth finds your neck as he sucks harshly, leaving bite marks all over you. You quickly reach your high, clenching around him as he finishes too, his cum spreading inside your tight cunt.

Remus removes himself from you all too quickly, pulling his trousers back up and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

You stand to your feet, your legs weak as his cum runs down your bare thighs.

"I'll see you in class, Y/N" He smirks, grabbing your underwear from the floor and putting it in his pocket. "Get your grades up and maybe I'll think about that reward."

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

The Lark Ascending: Chapter Four (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: The working relationship between a conductor and their soloist was supposed to be seamless. But what happens when you're dealing with the notoriously fickle (and your ex to boot) Agatha Harkness?

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Hello! Here's chapter four of my conductor!Agatha sequel. Updates unfortunately depend on my schedule, but I always try to write when I can :) I've updated my tag list for Lark, so if you'd like to be added feel free to let me know! This is my favorite chapter yet, and I've linked the main piece I listened to while writing, Rachmaninov's 14 Romances: Op. 34: No 14 (Vocalise) . As always I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know your thoughts!

Tag List: @fanficreadinglistandarchieve @chiar4anna @marisacoulterswife @getlostsquidward @rigglemethat @aquvr1us @dazzlinghahn

Previous Chapter

The relationship between a conductor and a soloist was special, as you had learned throughout your various performances. There was a certain level of trust that was required on the soloist’s end; to have no doubt that the conductor would follow their lead and guide the rest of the ensemble along with them. 

The conductor needed to hold the same belief, only that the soloist was confident enough in their music to make it through the selected concerto without faltering. One missed entrance or unsteady tempo change could send the entire orchestra falling off the cliff with them.

It was a push and pull dynamic, with the temperament of the conductor and potential ego of the soloist threatening to throw everything off balance. You had never experienced any issues with past conductors you had worked with, but none of them were Agatha.

You had scarcely seen the conductor since your intimate conversation at the gala the week prior. While her words of encouragement had been giving you the boost of confidence you had been lacking, it was hard to focus on any of that when your brain had been so fixated on what happened right after. Or rather, what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. 

It didn’t help that you failed to catch Agatha alone in the days after. She was usually with Tony going over (rejecting) his new marketing ideas, or being trailed by a frazzled looking Scott frantically writing down whatever instructions Agatha would bark at him from over her shoulder. 

The more you thought about it, you really didn’t understand how that particular arrangement was working out.

You had been trying to work up the nerve to approach Agatha all week, which was why you decided to come in earlier than was needed. There wasn’t a rehearsal you needed to attend and no meetings until the afternoon, so you were hoping to catch the conductor when she came in.

It was strange, feeling this conflicted. To not really know where you stood with her after all this time. You believed her when she said you were friends, and maybe that was all you were supposed to be. 

You didn’t want to linger on why that thought made you as upset as it did.

However, it appeared luck was on your side this morning, as Agatha was rounding a corner, engrossed in reading something on her phone. Her dark brown hair fell over her shoulders, and your eyes focused on her white dress shirt that was tucked into her purple dress slacks. You couldn’t help but notice her bare skin, as she had left a few of the buttons undone. 

She noticed you after a moment, and her face lit up.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha asked curiously, pocketing her phone and removing her glasses. “I don’t have you scheduled for rehearsal until Friday.”

“I know,” you said suddenly, craning your neck to look over at her. “I was hoping we could talk about the other night.”

“Hm?” Agatha responded as she glanced at you, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. “Whatever do you mean?”

You averted your gaze at the sight of her toned arms and her lithe fingers securing the sleeves stayed in place. If Agatha noticed the faint blush on her cheeks she didn’t comment on it.

Clearing your throat, you gave her a pointed look. “After the gala?”

The conductor had a blank expression on her face, before she nodded. “Oh, you mean my assistant? It’s so hard to find good help nowadays.”

“No, I don’t mean Scott,” you dismissed her, frowning as you tried to get her attention. “Agatha, come on, are we really not going to talk about what almost happened?”

Agatha feigned innocence, giving your arm a quick gentle squeeze . “You’ve been under so much stress these past few weeks, dear. Consider it all forgotten.”

“What?”

As the conductor went to open her mouth, she shook her head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an assistant to reprimand.”

Whipping your head around, you found Scott struggling to carry three huge cardboard boxes down the hallway. 

“Lang! I know I asked to have those delivered to my hotel. What are they doing here?” Agatha seethed as she stormed off.

As Scott started to explain, he dropped one of the boxes in the process and you watched as it comically fell to the ground. Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, not assisting him in picking it up, merely instructing him to take them one by one to her office. 

“Believe me, none of us get it either,” Monica said as she came to stand next to you, observing Scott and Agatha. 

“How long has Scott been working for her?” You asked, as you couldn’t help but wonder if he had just started.

Agatha wasn’t known for her patience, or for giving second chances. The multiple assistants she had apparently fired before you, and dozens of interns after, serving as proof to the high standards she tended to live by. 

“I think he’s been her assistant for over a year now,” Monica explained, looking puzzled as Scott tried pushing all three boxes stacked up on top of each other. “It’s funny, it’s the longest she’s kept someone around since…”

It took you a moment to realize she trailed off, and you forced yourself to look away as Agatha told Scott to stop, insisting that she would take care of it herself.

“Since what?” You prompted, and Monica uncomfortably looked to the ground.

“Well, since you,” Monica said, keeping her voice low enough so none of the other musicians could hear her. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. She had to have kept someone around for a while, right?” You asked, thinking back on if your former stand partner ever mentioned any of your replacements, until you came short. 

Out of all the things you and Monica would discuss whenever you both had time to catch up you realized she never once brought up Agatha.

Monica grimaced, shooting another quick glance in Agatha’s direction as she was shooing Scott away from trying to help her. “Not really, no. It was pretty bad after you left.”

“Bad how?” 

Monica sighed, and it seemed like to you she was torn between telling you or not. She tugged on your arm, leading you away from the concert hall to a deserted corner.

“None of us thought anything of it at first. You know how she can be,” Monica said quietly, and you nodded because you did know how difficult Agatha could be to work with. “A few people thought she was trying to annoy Hayward by firing them so quickly, but then he was arrested.”

“Yeah, you could have mentioned that before,” you said, remembering Agatha dropping that bomb on you last week.

Monica shifted then, an uneasy expression on her face. 

“What?” You questioned, not liking the way she was looking at you.

“Nothing,” Monica insisted, but she refused to meet your eyes. “Hayward was gone, and she seemed to get along better with the new guy, but she was still going through a new assistant every few weeks.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” you commented, but Monica looked at you then and shook her head. “So what changed?”

“No one knows,” Monica admitted. “She hired Scott on and it’s been that way for around a year, maybe a little longer. To be fair she’s been gone a lot of the time, but still.”

Right, you thought to yourself, Agatha had been traveling a lot. Not that you knew where she was going.

Unfortunately that was the moment the conductor in question came traipsing back around the corner, more agitated than before, and you could just barely hear her telling Scott to go feed Scratchy after rehearsal. 

“Orchestra,” Agatha called out, roughly running her fingers through her hair as she strolled past you. “As much as I’d love to sit around a campfire with all of you and join hands as we go around sharing stories on our past traumas and various metaphorical battle scars, I believe it would benefit all of us to be on stage for rehearsal, yes?”

“I’ll see you later,” Monica said reassuringly, before taking off in the same direction as the rest of the orchestra. 

Later that afternoon, you were getting ready to go home for the day. You had a rather productive meeting with Pepper over any changes you wanted for promotional materials going into opening night.

Unfortunately, you spent most of the time stewing over Agatha’s typical elusiveness. You were used to it by now, but you couldn’t help but feel frustrated over her hot and cold behavior. It was just how she was with everyone, and if Agatha hated anything it was being inconsistent.

As you prepared to leave, you noticed someone entering the building. It was a woman you had never seen before.

She was beautiful, you noted, and wore an expensive looking pale pink pantsuit. Holding a matching clutch in her hand, she took off her designer sunglasses and she appeared to be lost. When she noticed you, her face lit up, heels click-clacking on the floor as she walked over to you. 

“Excuse me,” the woman said, lowering her clutch to her side as she looked at you. “Do you know where Tony Stark’s office is?”

“Oh, yeah it’s right down that hallway. First door on your left,” you answered, pointing in the correct direction. 

“Thank you,” the woman replied politely, sticking out her hand to shake yours. “I’m Jennifer Kale, but I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

The name sounded relatively familiar, but you failed to place how you knew of her. Giving her an apologetic smile, you shook your head.

Jennifer raised her eyebrows, surprise coloring her features. “Well, I’m the founder of Kale Kare. We focus on providing musicians with holistic health and wellness.”

Kale Kare…you had heard of that once or twice, but you still couldn’t remember how. Maybe a social media ad?

“Oh cool,” you said sincerely, blushing slightly at the small smile Jennifer gave you in return. “I’m-”

“I already know who you are,” Jennifer said, and laughed at the dumbfounded look on your face. “I mean, how could I not? Half the city is plastered with posters of your face.”

Oh right, the LA Symphony promotional posters, you had actually passed a few on your way into rehearsal earlier.

“I keep forgetting about those,” you quietly admitted, and Jennifer laughed again.

“Besides, even if I hadn’t seen those, you certainly look like her type,” Jennifer added conversationally, and you froze.

“I’m sorry?”

“Agatha is a lot of things, but she’s always been predictable,” Jennifer sighed, looking you up and down. “You’re not the first soloist she’s been with.”

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you looked down at the ground. “I’m not with Agatha. You must have confused me with someone else.”

“Oh?” Jennifer asked, tilting her head to the side as she regarded you. “Are you not the assistant she was sleeping with back in New York? The one who left for Vienna?”

Oh.

“That’s not…” you trailed off, wondering if maybe you somehow hit your head earlier and were actually dreaming this entire interaction from a concussed state. “That’s not how I’d describe it.”

“I must have it wrong then,” Jennifer shrugged, but gave you a look that suggested she didn’t believe you. “That’s just what I had heard.”

“Heard from who?” You hesitantly questioned, as you had been under the impression you and Agatha had been rather discreet during the time you spent together.

“You know how musicians are, always gossiping,” Jennifer offered, giving you a wink. “But I guess they were mistaken.” 

There had been a few instances in which you had wondered if you and Agatha weren’t as careful as you once thought. But, replaying the conversation you just shared with Monica, you wondered if there was truth to what Jennifer was suggesting. Both that you were less discrete than you thought, and more troubling- that Agatha actually cared when you left. 

No, that can’t be it. You were sure Agatha’s attitude after you left didn’t have anything to do with you, she didn’t strike you as the type to pine. 

If only you had been as lucky in that department.

“Yeah, they must have been,” you insisted, trying to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind.

Maybe you should talk to Monica later, get some peace of mind.

“I thought I smelled the faint stench of desperation and fraud,” Agatha’s voice cut through the awkward silence that had filled the hallway, and you jumped at the sound. 

The conductor approached you and Jennifer, hands in her purple dress slacks as she sauntered over, a hesitant Scott closely following her. “What pray tell have we lowly peasants done to deserve such a pleasant surprise, Jen?”

“I’d say it’s nice to see you again Agatha, but lying is more your specialty than mine,” Jennifer greeted the conductor, a smile tugging on her lips. “I’ve heard you’ve been keeping busy.”

Agatha sniffed, tossing her bag at Scott, nearly taking him down to the ground. “No more than usual. What are you doing here?”

“I’m expanding my business to the LA Symphony,” Jennifer announced, her eyes locked on Agatha’s. “I have a meeting with Tony to go over our upcoming partnership.”

“Oh good, another potential lawsuit to add to your ever growing collection,” Agatha quipped, raising her left hand as her index finger tapped against her cheek, a contemplative expression on her face. “By the way, how are your legal woes faring?”

It was then you remembered how you knew of Kale Kare…Agatha. The conductor had once briefly ranted about the company and its founder, Jennifer. It was unsurprising that Agatha wasn’t sold on the holistic remedies that the company swore by, but you never asked what had happened between the two of them that made the conductor as sour as she appeared to be.

“Funny, Agatha, but almost all of those were thrown out by the judge,” Jennifer fired back, and you wondered what ‘almost all of those’ meant. “Besides, based on what I’ve been told, you could actually benefit from some of our treatments.”

Agatha pursed her lips, the frown lines on her forehead becoming more prominent as she arched an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that, I’d be surprised if any of that goop you sell is actually organic.” Turning to Scott, she tossed her keys at him, shaking her head as he fumbled attempting to catch them. “Lang, why don’t you make yourself useful and go lock up my office.”

Scott looked thankful to be excused from the conversation, as he scurried away. You had to admit, you were slightly jealous he was able to leave, as you were currently stuck between Agatha and Jennifer.

“Well Stephen certainly seems to think differently,” Jennifer continued, taking a step closer to the conductor, folding her arms across her chest.

“Of course he’s one of your clients. That man has been living in LA for far too long,” Agatha deadpanned, shooting Jennifer a nasty glare. 

“Typical Agatha, hiding behind some biting insults,” Jennifer observed, giving you a quick once over. “Besides, there’s no need to be so humble. I’m sure your…soloist was flattered by it.”

“Flattered by what?” You questioned, looking back and forth between the conductor and Jennifer, confusion growing.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Jennifer guessed, poorly attempting to stifle a laugh whilst Agatha balled her hands into fists at her side. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed, Agatha.”

“Didn’t tell me what?” You asked, focusing on Agatha who shrugged in response.

“That’s my cue,” Jennifer said, brushing her hand against your arm as she started to walk away. “It was nice to meet you, good luck with your concerts.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, waiting until the woman was out of earshot before narrowing your eyes at Agatha. “Agatha, what was she talking about?”

“Ignore her, all of those wellness treatments and supplements have made her more delusional than normal,” Agatha insisted, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to turn you around in the opposite direction.

Your breath hitched at the physical contact, but attempted to remain your composure. “I thought we were done with the games. What aren’t you telling me?”

Agatha froze for a moment, eyes shifting around before refocusing, not removing her arm from where it was wrapped around your shoulders. “It’s nothing to worry about, dear. Jen just enjoys getting under my skin.”

Only, the more you thought about it the more you realized you didn’t believe her. There were far too many inconsistencies in the conductor’s stories, but what you were failing to grasp was why she wasn’t just telling you the truth. 

What she was doing in LA. What happened to Stephen, because that particular question had more bad possibilities than good. Where she had been traveling to so secretly for the past year. 

Why she refused to talk about your almost kiss.

Shaking her arm off, you shook your head. “No. This isn’t like before, Agatha. I’m not just some assistant you can boss around and belittle.”

“I don’t think I ever belittled you,” Agatha lightly corrected you, and you let out a deep sigh. 

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh? Is there a point to this little temper tantrum?” Agatha questioned as she crossed her arms across her chest. “I was worried you were breaking barriers and rising above the diva allegations most soloists succumb to. It’s nice to see that isn’t the case.”

“That’s really nice,” you said sarcastically, attempting to keep your temper in check. “What did Jennifer mean when she brought up Stephen?”

There was a flash of displeasure on the conductor’s face before she masked it. 

Giving you a sly grin, she winked. “Are you interrogating me, dear? Should we take this somewhere more private?”

“Stop it,” you said dismissively, growing more irritated with every word she spoke. “Why can’t you just give me a straight answer.” 

“Well I think we both know the answer to that,” Agatha teased, leaning in closer until her breath was warm against your face. “But if you need a reminder, I’d be more than happy to provide one.”

“Stop it,” you repeated, patience wearing thin. 

Agatha always enjoyed having the upper hand, and as easy as it felt to slip back into a role you were once very comfortable with, things had changed. You changed. Deciding to switch up your line of questioning, you thought back to what Monica had just shared with you.

“Why did you go through so many assistants after I left?”

Agatha noticeably tensed at that, her eyebrows furrowing and she took a step back, putting her hands in her pockets. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Of course you don’t,” you said, letting out a bitter laugh as Agatha’s expression hardened. 

“Whatever it is you’re implying, I suggest you stop. Maybe spend more time focusing on your upcoming performance,” Agatha suggested, lips curling upwards to form a smirk. “After all, we wouldn’t want a repeat of last week’s…incident, would we?”

The memory of your anxiety attack and conversation that had followed with Agatha came rushing back to you. You bowed your head, feeling your cheeks warm at the humiliating reminder. 

“I should have known better,” you mumbled, each second you chose to stay in this conversation proving to be a mistake. “I thought maybe you missed me, but you aren’t capable of feeling that way towards anyone, are you?”

Agatha’s eyes flashed menacingly, and she recoiled as if you struck her. Turning on her heel she stormed off without another word, leaving you alone once again.

The regret hit as soon as she was out of sight, you knew you shouldn’t have said that to her. But then again, maybe if she was more forthcoming and honest with you, then you wouldn’t have snapped. 

Agatha had a special talent to make you lose your mind, in more ways than one. She was unlike anyone you had ever met, and as many positives as that held there was the occasional reminder of her darker side. 

You sometimes questioned if any of her feelings for you back then were real, or if she just got off on the power trip. 

It was hard, being this torn, and as much as you still cared for her you were starting to get the feeling that it wasn’t reciprocated. At least, not in the way you wanted it to be. You didn’t just want to go back to how things were before. You weren’t just an assistant anymore, you had made a name for yourself.

It was foolish to think you’d ever be as well-known or talented as Agatha, but you liked to believe that you were on a more equal footing this time around.

But it appeared Agatha didn’t feel the same way.

As you finally left for the day, one of the interns came running up with a bag addressed to you. Apparently Jennifer Kale had left some of her products for you to try, along with a note suggesting the two of you talk about a possible PR partnership for the brand.

You spent the rest of your afternoon and evening the way you typically did when you needed to unwind and not spend too much time practicing. Setting your violin in the sitting room, you spent a few hours curled up on the couch reading a book. You would periodically check your phone, some part of you secretly waiting for a text or message from Agatha, but there was nothing.

It did cross your mind that maybe you should apologize, but knew it was moot. You both needed time to cool off.

Deciding to look at the products Jennifer gifted you, it wasn’t a surprise that everything looked and smelled nice enough. Her company certainly seemed to spend enough time with the presentation, as the bottles were all beautiful and almost looked like potion vials. You decided to try out one of the face masks, and you briefly read a few of the ingredients. 

A small voice did question how 100% natural it was, but it smelled nice and it was free so you weren’t going to complain.

You were so wrapped up in applying the face mask you barely heard your doorbell ring. It took you a moment to register the noise, and you checked the time on your phone to reveal it was half past ten. You weren’t expecting company, so you ignored it, spreading the mask evenly over your face. 

The buzzing of your phone caused you to pause, rinsing your hands in the sink before grabbing the device to reveal you had a new text message.

Agatha: Knock knock

After your last conversation with the conductor she was the last person you wanted to see right now, but if there was one thing Agatha was, it was persistent. The doorbell rang again and you huffed, she really had some nerve. 

Storming out of the bathroom, you whipped the front door open, revealing Agatha with her finger pressed against the doorbell. The conductor’s dark brown hair was pulled back with a hair tie, loose strands flying everywhere. You did a double take at her casual attire, the baggy black sweatpants and tight fitting t-shirt that read ‘What’s The Difference Between A Conductor And God? God Doesn’t Think He’s A Conductor’. 

“Took you long enough,” Agatha mused, nose scrunching in disgust when she saw what you had on your face. “Didn’t realize you were interested in having hives break out across your face.”

“What do you want, Agatha?” You questioned, ignoring her jab.

The conductor paused, appearing to realize how irritated you were. Her bright blue eyes were locked on your own, and she took a small step forward, placing her hands against yours. “Can I come in?”

“You’re joking,” you retorted, the earlier argument still ringing in your ears. “You have to be joking. No, you cannot come in. Goodnight, Agatha.”

As you went to slam the door in her face, she stuck her foot in, blocking it. She gave you a rare pleading glance. “Please?”

You could count on one hand the number of times she had ever said that word to you, or to anyone for that matter. Feeling your annoyance fade slightly, you relented. Moving to the side to allow her to come in, trying to restrain the shiver of feeling her body brush against yours. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, folding your arms across your chest after you shut the door, locking it.

The conductor was looking at you with an unreadable expression, as her tongue slowly licked her lips. Your eyes were fixated on the gesture, unable to look away until you finally cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look at her with a newfound sense of confidence.

“If you don’t have anything to say I think you should be going,” you asserted, something that surprised both you and the conductor as she raised her eyebrows. 

“You’re wrong,” the conductor said, so quietly you could barely hear her.

“What?” 

“You’re wrong,” Agatha repeated, louder this time.

“If you came here to insult me, you can leave,” you stated, going to open the door.

It was hard to say how it happened, really. Agatha was a lot faster than she looked, and she had your back pressed against the wall, hands pinned at your sides before you could blink. She towered over you, chest heaving as you felt her breath hot against your neck. 

“Agatha…” 

“I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as you,” Agatha breathed out, releasing one hand to gently cup your chin, forcing you to look up at her. “Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

You blinked, feeling your head spin as you wondered if this was really happening. Agatha had made countless appearances in your dreams over the years, each feeling more real than the last. It felt like she was haunting you, a cruel shadow you could never escape from. 

But this was real, you noted as you breathed in the subtle but rich scent of her floral shampoo. After all this time, she was really here.

“Agatha,” you whispered again, heart pounding against your chest as blood rushed in your ears. 

The conductor released your other hand, raising her own to tangle in your hair as she pulled you impossibly closer to her, lips ghosting over your own. 

Before you could form a coherent thought, Agatha finally did the one thing you had been yearning for since you left her all those years ago, closing the distance as she smashed her lips against yours. 

All of the times you had reminisced on this, the random bodies you had used as replacements over the years, nothing could ever come close to the real thing. The very real feeling of Agatha’s mouth moving fervently against your own, as she hungrily drank from you like a woman dying of thirst. Her tongue darted out, seeking entrance to your mouth and you could only let out a small whimper as she deepened the kiss.

Agatha let out a muffled groan at that, growing more desperate in her attempts to unravel you, which is why you let out a disappointed whine as she broke away, fingers still woven in your hair.

Panting, the conductor closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath, and you were thankful she had you pressed against the wall because you doubt you’d be able to stand on your own. When she reopened them, her pupils were fully blown out. Her hand caressed your cheek, and you leaned into the tender gesture. 

“I missed you,” Agatha murmured, and she was holding you so delicately, like she was afraid you would break if she pushed too far. 

“I missed you too,” you echoed, feeling tears begin to swell in your eyes.

You thought getting your big break as a soloist would fix the giant hole leaving Agatha had created. But despite all you had accomplished, it still felt like something was missing. You had tried everything, but it wasn’t until this very moment, feeling Agatha’s body flush against your own, with her bright blue eyes searing into your soul, did you come to the startling revelation of what you had been missing. 

Agatha. 

It was always Agatha.

[charmercharm3r]

YOU WILL WRITE THIS

SO IMAGING ABT how your a 9th skz member (who always wears baggy street wear or just the really cutsie member who does aegyo and isnt rlly sexual and lit has never showed any skin )and you all go boxing for fun - you decide to wear a baggy white shirt and a white bra under it and once you arrive to the gym your acc really good at boxing like your sweatiinggg and its showing your skin and clinging onto u - thowing jabs at minho like your life DEPENDS ON IT!! the members admire you from the side of the ring with a good view; after that tiring session you or your member dump water on you to quench your thirst but end up dumping wayy more than intended which causes you all to laugh but iykyk white clothes + water = see through jit going thru your shirt and kinda your bra so the members are just staring at your bare boobs (you can also write the baddie moment where you take off your shirt bc your agitated at it clinging onto ur skin)

i’m such a sucker for 9th member fics

Masterlist

warning: gn!reader, 9th member, suggestive

next: two

☆ﾟ

“That’s it, Y/N’ie! Now I can actually feel your punches. Put a little more weight behind it.”

Minho had you dancing around the elevated boxing ring like it was rehearsed. Your couldn’t feel your hands or arms anymore from how long you’d been chasing him in circles to hit the padded target he always held just a little out of reach. Honestly, sports weren’t really your thing, dancing was the only thing you truly tried to do well in front of and behind the cameras. You had no idea what possessed you to tag along with Minho to his boxing session.

The news of your outing traveled fast within the group and before you knew it, everyone was piling into the two cars together. Minho and Chan had been giving you pointers the whole car ride and even tried to show you how to wrap the bandage around your wrist for support until you shooed them away and told them to stop hovering.

Felix was giggling watching the whole preparation take place, only when he said your full name did you realize he was narrating with a mini vlogging camera pointed your way.

Maybe promotions and practices and life in general were starting to take an emotional toll on you, every ounce of your frustrations from the week you took it out on Minho.

You couldn’t feel your feet now, too. The numbness let you move a little faster, only able to feel the sweat dripping down your temple and chest. As you picked up the pace and threw your punches harder, Minho stumbled slightly from the sudden burst of energy. You couldn’t hear the other members whooping and cheering your name, all focus pinpointed on the black target.

Harder, quicker, more than enough weight behind the punches that forced Minho to misstep and trip into the rope. The others rushed to hold their hands out in case he slipped through them, while also torn between being in awe or laughing at the older boy literally falling for you.

You tried to catch your breath and aggravatedly unwrapped the boxing glove from your hand as Minho stood and looked at you with surprise.

“Was that enough weight?!” You huffed, throwing the glove at him with almost no power now that you expended most of it trying to hit the target.

Giggling from the side of the ring made your head snap in its direction, “you want some, too, Kim Seungmin? I’ll come down there and—“

Just as you were about to throw the other glove at him, Changbin stepped into the ring and stole it from you, physically picking you up and waltzing you backwards with your rubbery limbs not putting up much of a fight. “You can beat him up later. Drink water first, you sweat like a fucking fountain.”

“Y/N’ie!” Felix and Hyunjin ran around to help you out of the ring, water bottles at the ready. You let Hyunjin tip your chin up and place the open bottle to your lips, it was gone in under a minute. “Slow down, you’ll drown,” he chuckled.

“Lix, you’re staring again,” Changbin threw his hand over his eyes until he realized what the younger was ogling.

The baggy white shirt you’d worn was completely soaked and sticking to your body like a second skin, showing through the sports bra that kept you safe. You were never one to show much skin at all, but right now, you didn’t have the energy to care. In fact, it was suddenly feeling suffocating. When you started to strip away the drenched shirt was when the rest of the members made their way over to you, all with mouths dropped slightly at the view of their adorable member suddenly shining in a new light.

“Hyung, maybe you should get Y/N’ie mad more often,” Jeongin whispered to Minho, who had a stupidly smug smirk on his face.

“I’ll take—“ huff, “—every one—“ puff, “of you fuc—“

“Hey now! No swearing in my vlog!” Felix rushed to stop you mid sentence.

“But they’re cute when they’re mad! Look,” Jisung pinched your cheek lightly and you frowned, raising your fist, “oh, so scary!” He feigned fright and stepped back with his hands up in surrender.

“You looked really cool, though. Who knew you could actually do physical activity!” Seungmin patted you on the back a little too harshly and you slumped forward with a wince.

“I hate all of you.”

“You love us!” Chan rung out your wet shirt and all of you stopped to watch how much of it was squeezed onto the floor. “That’s disgusting.”

Felix laughed menacingly and turned the camera towards himself, “I think Y/N’ie needs a shower.”

The eight of them made eye contact and smiled deviously. You spotted the bottles of water they each had and moved a second too late. Minho grabbed you by the waist before you could run, and suddenly you were being blinded by water running down your face and getting covered from head to toe. Minho was nice enough to wipe your strayed hair from your eyes so you could see the glee in your member’s eyes as if they’d accomplished an important task.

“Are you cooled off now?” Minho asked, peaking over your shoulder and brushing more hair from your cheek.

“Ice cold.”

“Oh, they’re definitely mad at us!” Felix kept laughing along with Hyunjin and Jisung.

“You all owe me one meal each. Dessert included.”

“I’ll even throw in a dry towel.” Chan handed you a itty bitty hand towel that you snatched away.

You patted down your exposed skin starting with your arms, your face, and when you got to your neck and chest was when you realized they’d all gone quiet. “Have none of you seen a chest before?! Virgins, all of you.”

None of them moved, unabashedly and unashamed that they were still staring.

“It’s just—“ Hyunjin said softly and pointed at your chest again. You looked down to see your nipples hard, and you lost any patience you had left.

There was almost no force behind your fists slamming into his chest, but Hyunjin cowered away and pretended to be hurt just for sympathy’s sake. Minho cheered you on while Chan was pulling out a spare shirt from his gym bag, sneakily slipping it onto you as your adrenaline drained back down to zero.

“Two. Meals. Each. And I’ll be keeping track.” You breathed heavily, finally giving up on being upset.

“Dessert included,” they repeated back.

When you’d finally calmed down, Felix threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you in close, “how was your first time boxing with Minho hyung? Care to share with sunshine vlog?”

“Next time, it’ll be you and me in that ring, Lixie.” You cheerfully threaded with a tap of your finger to the tip of his nose and smiled.

The seven of them trailed behind you as you leaned on Felix for some support. Not even an ounce of annoyance left in you, the sleep was wanting to take over before you could make it to the car. You climbed into the back seat and made yourself comfortable before the rest of them could file in, careful not to raise their voices too loud. You could tell it was Changbin next to you just by the smell of his cologne, still strongly lasting after a decent work out.

Entirely passed out, you didn’t get to hear Felix end his vlog with, “look how cute they are, already asleep. Stay, shhh, don’t tell Y/N’ie that Minho hyung only tripped cus his shoe was untied. See you next time!”

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

[worth-the-chaos]

Not sure if you're still taking requests or not, but I'd love to hear what the moments between getting out of the upside down and the end scene were like between Steve and MC in the Adventures in Baby Sitting Series. I adore these two, and your writing is so awesome 🥰

Hi Tiffany! I hope you enjoy this blurb and I really appreciate your kind words! I chose to focus on the end of season two and the “will they won’t they” tension before they got together! I’m not sure which season you wanted me to focus on, so if you have any additional requests, feel free to send them in! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you have a good time reading it!

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Blurb!

Summary: After making your way out of the tunnels under Hawkins, you and Steve take care of each other’s injuries sustained during your scuffle with Billy Hargrove.

Content Warning: blood, swearing, injuries, angst

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: This takes place within Chapter 5 of the main series! Please feel free to send in any requests you have for Steve and the reader within the context of Adventures in Babysitting!

Series Masterlist | Associated Chapter

***

“Hey lovebirds! We need to get out of here!” Dustin’s voice rang out from above the two of you.

You couldn’t quite believe that the demodogs just passed right by you and Steve without attacking. You were confident you were going to get ripped to shreds, and your mind drifted to the scars that littered your left arm. You couldn’t imagine what it would feel like if the supernatural creatures got the opportunity to finish the job.

You were still pressed tight up against Steve, his hand at the nape of your neck as you swayed together, your head buried against his chest. You peeled yourself apart from Steve and looked up into his eyes. You could barely see them past the goggles he was wearing, but you could feel the relief in the way he breathed deeply. His hands were wrapped around your upper arms as he held you, taking in the sight of you, whole and okay.

“I guess we should get out of here,” he finally spoke up, his voice sounding far away.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you agreed. He rested one of his large hands on the small of your back as he guided you to the rope that the kids had just ascended. You thought back to the P.E. class the two of you shared and you blushed at the fact that you weren’t nearly as athletic as he was, and you sure weren’t going to be able to climb this rope without a little bit of help. You were grateful for the bandana over your face to hide your reddened cheeks as you grabbed hold of the rope and hoisted yourself up.

You were clearly struggling as you wrapped your ankles around the rope to get a better grip. Suddenly you felt Steve’s hands against your frame, one on your waist and the other right below your ass as he helped push you up. You again thanked your lucky stars that no one could see your face as you finally got high enough for Dustin and Lucas to grab your hands and help pull you out of the hole.

To your complete non surprise, Steve quickly climbed the rope without assistance, dusting off his pants and snatching the keys from an irritated Max Mayfield.

“Hey!” She shouted as she tried to grab them back but Steve was quick to hold them above his head, wildly out of the young girl’s reach.

“There is absolutely no way in hell you are driving that car again. No way,” Steve said plainly, making his way back towards Billy’s car parked haphazardly a few yards away from the gaping hole in the earth. “The fact that you even drove it in the first place is completely fucking ridiculous.”

“You probably have a concussion! You shouldn’t be driving either!” She argued.

“I’ll take my chances, thank you,” Steve rolled his eyes, spinning the keys around his index finger before opening the passenger door for you as he gently guided you inside the vehicle.

The car was pretty quiet as you dropped the rest of the kids off, everyone silently taking in all that had just transpired. They had all decided that Mike’s house was their best bet, seeing as Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler were absolutely oblivious when it came to the otherworldly shit the majority of their kids were facing on a remarkably consistent basis. You and Steve then returned Billy’s car to the Byers’ house, leaving the key on the dash and quickly switching to Steve’s BMW.

Steve started the car but he turned to face you before he put it in gear.

“That was kind of a lot,” he began, his eyes not faltering from yours, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel like being alone right now, so do you want to stay at my house tonight?”

You couldn’t muster up the words to respond, so you just nodded and his hand found the back of your headrest as he put the car in reverse and backed out of the Byers’ driveway. You hummed to the music playing softly on the radio as you fidgeted with your hands, nervous about being alone with Steve considering all that had happened.

Nancy and him had just officially, officially ended things, and you knew you were developing feelings for the brown eyed boy that was so endlessly kind to you. Hell, if you were being honest, you’d had feelings for him since a year ago when he came back to save you from certain doom in your fight against the demogorgon in Jonathan’s living room. You didn’t want to be a rebound or to make things weird between you and Nancy. You didn’t have enough friends to lose the few that you had made in your less than desirable circumstances.

Before you knew it, Steve was pulling into his empty driveway, his parents nowhere to be found per usual. You felt a pang in your chest as you considered how lonely it must feel sometimes to be Steve Harrington. But you didn’t have a lot of time to think about that as he was opening your car door for you and gently guiding you inside.

“Steve—“ you began, stopping in the foyer of his house feeling the need to express the anxiety sitting in your chest surrounding the weird, in-between relationship you seemed to be entering together, but Steve just walked right past you, leaving you alone in the expansive entryway of his even more unbelievably expansive home. You messed with the hem of your shirt, your eyes darting around the room, still afraid of monsters lurking in the dark.

Steve quickly returned and you could see the absolute focus on his face as he gently grabbed your wrist and led you to the kitchen. He sat you down in a kitchen chair before kneeling down in front of you, carefully setting a first-aid kit on the floor.

“What hurts?” He asked, his eyes kind and his voice dripping with a sincerity that could make you melt into the ground.

His mind had been racing too. He had been upset about him and Nancy’s split, but not as upset as he anticipated. He almost felt a little….relieved? He was conflicted, but all that mattered to him right now was the pretty girl sitting in his kitchen, ash and dirt on her pants and blood on her face as she sat, still jittery from the conflict.

You didn’t really know if it was the compassion in his voice or the adrenaline crash from the sheer terror of trying to survive, but your eyes began welling up with tears as you choked out a sob that wracked your sore and tired frame. Your hands darted to cover your face, embarrassed by the way you were falling apart in front of Steve.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Steve gently pulled at your wrists, desperately trying to gauge if you were okay. Alarm bells started ringing in his head, his thoughts going to the worst case scenario. His mind flashed back to your wobbly gait and blood soaked sleeve from the year prior, to the way he ran with your limp body as you began to drift in and out of consciousness. “Y/n, what’s wrong? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

You didn’t respond, sobbing harder into your hands, still unable to speak.

“Please y/n, you’re scaring me,” Steve begged you to say something, anything. “I need you to be okay.”

“It’s…it’s just,” you choked out as you looked him in the eyes, “we could have died.”

The words came out in a whisper, like speaking the words would will fate to change the past. Steve didn’t say anything. Instead he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you forward off of the chair and into his lap on the floor of his kitchen. You buried your face in his neck as he rubbed circles on your back, hugging you close to him.

After several minutes, you began to calm down and you pulled away from him a bit, your face flushing as you realized you were straddling him. You began to try and move away, but his hand dropped to your lower back and held you there as his brown eyes searched your face, awestruck by just how beautiful you were. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, and you hissed in pain as his fingers grazed across a cut on your cheek.

“Let me fix it,” he whispered, grabbing supplies from the first-aid kit and cleaning up the cuts and scratches on your face. You winced as he removed the blood-soaked, multicolored bandages the kids had placed haphazardly across the worst of your cuts, replacing them with butterfly stitches. He hated the way your eye was starting to bruise, and his jaw set as he thought about the man that did this to you.

“I’m gonna kill him, you know,” Steve assured you and you just shook your head.

“It’s okay Steve,” he didn’t seem to relent with your assurance, so you continued. “Really, I promise. He’s just an asshole and I doubt he’ll lay a hand on any of us again.”

“You don’t know that though,” Steve pushed, “that was fucking insane, y/n. He had you pinned against the wall and bleeding in the minute it took me to get back inside!”

Steve sounded exasperated and you couldn’t say it wasn’t warranted. Your gaze drifted to your hands in your lap as you anxiously fiddled with your fingers. Your voice was quiet when you spoke up. “Why do you care so much?”

“Why do I care so much?” He repeated your question incredulously. “Y/n, we’ve quite literally been through hell together. And….and I-I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened to you. I watched you nearly get ripped to shreds last year, and I think about that all the damn time—that…that I barely even met you, like really met you, and you were going to be gone and out of my life just like that,” he snapped his fingers, and you jumped a bit at the sudden sound. “So to think that some shit for brains, asshole lunatic beat you half to death on my watch absolutely kills me. I care so much because he shouldn’t have gotten a chance to lay a finger on you in the first place. Not on Halloween, and certainly not tonight, and that’s on me.”

The admission made your chest hurt, knowing that he was carrying that emotional weight. You looked up and met his gaze and you could tell he meant every damn word. As your eyes traced the cuts and bruises scattered across his battered and beaten face, you thought back to the first time you’d reached out to the boy; showing up at his doorstep looking for help.

And he hadn’t stopped helping you since then.

“Steve, this isn’t your fault. You can’t carry that,” you shook your head, as your eye contact remained unwavering, your voice carrying such conviction that Steve held his breath in his throat.

“But you have to. All the time,” he whispered, his fingers ghosting across a cut on the bridge of your nose before his hand trailed down to your left arm. He knew the scars were there despite the fact that you were never vulnerable enough around him to let him see them. He thought about all the times he’d see you, miserable in the sweltering heat of spring and summer, suffocating in your long sleeves.

You were surprised by the way you didn’t jump at his touch, instead, taking a deep breath, you gently grabbed his hand and held it in both of yours.

“It just reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life,” you whispered, “that you saved my life.” You wiped a tear that began to roll down his cheek, grabbing some of the first aid supplies and silently going to work at cleaning and bandaging his wounds properly (no shade against the kids, but the neon band aids just simply weren’t cutting it).

“There. All better,” you announced with a smirk as you placed the last bandage over a shallow cut along his jawline. “Now, how about we go to bed? It’s been a long day.”

“That is the understatement of the century,” Steve chuckled.

And just like that, the two of you made your way up to his bedroom and you changed into another pair of his pajamas, swimming in the fabric that was too big for your frame. Unlike the night before when you spent the night, neither of you were shy about it. Instead of facing away from each other, you fell asleep nestled into the crook of his arm, resting your head against his chest. You quickly drifted off to sleep as Steve ran his fingers through your hair.

When he was sure you were asleep, he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and took a deep breath. Maybe you were right. Maybe it wasn’t his fault.

But he’d be damned if he didn’t fight like hell to make sure you never got so much as a damn scratch on you again.

***

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed! If you wanted to make my whole day, leave a comment or reblog! I love to hear what you guys think!

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @palachannie @keeryverse @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @aheadfullofsteverogers @quinnsadilla @chervbs @sheisjoeschateau @goosy-goose @frtfvthg @criesinlies @cycat4077 @kachelleee @killerqueenfan @newyorkangelbaby @spaghetittied @anxfl @huffledor-able541 @mikariell95 @nothergoaway @angie2274 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles

[hitomisuzuya]

I know we talk about gamer Scara but I need to suck him off till he’s overstimulated while he plays

Fuck or make him rail us while we try to play

Gamer!Scaramouche x fem! reader. Smut. Overstimulation. Scara receiving.

Freddy is back at it again, guys❤️ I'm not sure if this was a request or not, but I wanted to write something for it anyways.

Scaramouche was starting to have a problem focusing, his fingers shaking as they hovered over the keys on his keyboard. He wasn't signed into Discord, thankfully. He didn't need shitheads chattering in his ear while he was trying to listen and look for Freddy. That fucker was on the move again.

All he needed was his your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. He'd cummed twice down your throat by the time he got to Night 3. He was on Night 5 now, and you hadn't stopped sucking.

"Fucking hell," He groaned, his fingers shaking as they found the back of your head. His cock throbbed in your mouth, making him hiss as she pushed it down onto his cock.

You coughed on purpose, wanting him to feel your throat spasming around his cock. You kept your eyes focused on him, watching literal tears well into his eyes from over stimulation.

Scaramouche hastily brushed them away, cursing because he had taken his other hand away from the keyboard. You slurped loudly on his cock, curling your tongue around it as you sucked. His thighs trembled when you trapped his cock against the roof of your mouth with your tongue, grinding it against the roof of your mouth.

"I'm gonna cum down your throat again if you keep sucking like that, slut," He said in a shaky voice. You bobbed your head up to suck on the head of his cock.

That was what you wanted. This boy had some payback coming, after all. You'd even removed your panties so he could look down to see you stroking and rubbing yourself.

The kitten licks you flicked over the tip of his aching cock made him push your mouth back down on his cock again, thrusting into your mouth until cum spilled into your throat.

"Tag out..I tag out.." He moaned, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He could barely focus enough to bring up the security camera screens for you to look and see where those fuckers were, shakily guiding you to sit in his lap.

Scaramouche rested his head in the dip of your shoulder, watching you evade Foxy closing in at the last second. You were already poised to catch Freddy. Which was so hot of you, by the way.

As much as it frustrated him when you did better than he did at a game, especially when you were so shy about actually playing them yourself, it also really turned him on.

He nearly moaned when you shut Freddy down, sending him back with his top hat between his legs to try again. You took a deep breath, leaning back against Scaramouche's chest.

"Fuck, I want you so bad right now," His hands found your hips, moving you back in his lap. He lifted you so that the head of his cock pressed up against your clit.

Let's see how well you would do while he bounced you on his cock, fucking you senseless while you tried to play. He wanted to see you struggle like he did.

When you started to try and grind down against his cock, he abruptly lowered you down onto his cock. "Don't you dare pause the game," He hissed in your ear, bouncing you on his cock as he thrust up to bottom out inside of you.

He almost could breathe for a moment, your cunt felt so good clenching around his cock. You gasped in pleasure, trying to squirm as he held you still in his lap.

As overstimulated as Scaramouche was, he couldn't stop grunting and pounding into you. One of his hand squeezed around your breast, pinching your nipples to ground himself as his cock throbbed strong from overstimulation.

Now you could barely concentrate. His cock was kissing deep into your cervix, making you quake in pleasure. Your orgasm was building up to toe curling intensity. You could only try to struggle to bounce on his cock while he held you still, moaning high pitched the stronger your orgasm built up inside you.

Scaramouche's fingers feverishly rubbed your clit, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your finger smacked on the keys to bring the cameras up on the screen again. Opening your eyes, you focused your vision through blurry tears of pleasure. "G-Gotcha," You exclaimed, it sounded more like a moan of bliss instead of victory.

You stopped Freddy again.

Right as you squirted all over his cock, your thighs trembling and your body twitching. His grip tightened on your hip, his thrusting turning sloppy before his cock throbbed cum inside of you.

"Don't you even move off of my cock," He sighed happily, resting his chin in the dip of your shoulder again. He wanted to watch the rest of Night 5 while his fingers stroked over your clit.

[violettduchess]

A/N: This year, as I deal with a far more limited amount of free time, I want to focus on writing things that really spark something for me. These headcanons, which I started almost 6 months ago, recently came roaring back into my imagination and I decided to go for it.

This is imagining how these suitors would react to their small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night.

Leon, Sariel, Jin, Keith and Gilbert

WC: 2.2 k

The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.

The hall is empty.

Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.

One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.

Leon

He is awake the moment the door opens. A light sleeper, he never fails to hear when his daughter enters your bedroom, no matter how quietly she tries to. Even now, he pushes himself up, running a hand through his cacophony of dark hair, watching his offspring step as quietly as possible as she makes her way towards the bed. She’s so concentrated on not making noise that she doesn’t notice he’s already up and watching her until she arrives at the foot of the bed.

“Papa!” Her gasp is half surprise, half disappointment when she realizes he has, as always, heard her. Leon laughs softly, the sound still rough with sleep as he motions for her to come over to his side of the bed. 

“I was trying to be extra, extra quiet.” He offers her his hand and she takes it, climbing into the bed and then into the circle of his arms where he cuddles her close. “You were, peanut. You were very quiet but your father has very, very good ears. Especially at night.” 

Perhaps someday she’ll learn why. How good hearing and light sleeping could mean the difference between life and death in the slave pens. But not tonight. Tonight she snuggles into his embrace, clutching her brown bear with his black and red cape to her chest. 

“Shall I bring you back to your bed?” He brushes several dark locks of hair that have escaped her braid away from her plump cheek, his golden eyes warm with affection. His daughter stifles a yawn. “Can I stay here tonight, with you and Mama?” 

How can he say no? “Of course.” He shifts her, tucking her in close against his side where she curls up like a kitten, warm and content. Leon sighs, his heart fuller than he ever imagined it could be, before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Sariel

He looks up from the paperwork on his lap when the bedroom door slowly opens. One glance at the clock on his nightstand and he knows exactly who dares enter his room, unannounced, in the middle of the night.

His son, hair dark as onyx, eyes as bright as violets, peeks around the door to see his father sitting up in bed, reading by the soft light of an oil lamp. 

“I see you, little one.” The child gives up stealth and hurries into his parents’ room, climbing up the foot of the bed and crawling his way across the velvety covers up to Sariel, careful not to jostle you while you are sleeping. He settles in next to his father, peering at the sheaf of papers still in his hands. “Why are you still up, Papa? It’s so late.”

Sariel glances down at his son, his lips curved in a soft shadow of a smile. “You know what? You are correct. It is very late.” He carefully removes his glasses, placing them in a safe spot on his nightstand and then sets the missives and letters and parchments beside them. He extends his arms and his son happily accepts the silent invitation, burrowing into his father’s embrace, clutching his soft, stuffed snake with the onyx eyes close to his little chest. “We’ll go to sleep together, ok Papa?”

Sariel reaches out, extinguishing the warm light and then shifts, dipping his head to press a kiss to his son’s midnight hair. “A sound plan, son.” He closes his eyes, contentment flowing through him like the soft waves of the ocean. “A very sound plan.”

Jin

He freezes, lifting his head from your neck, his large hand going still on the sensitive skin of your hip. As involved as he may be with you, he has excellent hearing and the opening of the door is as loud in its whisper as a gust of howling wind. He feels the soft huff of air against his cheek as you reign in your galloping heart. Things were just getting good.... With a groan, a mixture of disappointment and the dying embers of desire, he sits up as you adjust your nightgown and tilts his head at the small outline in the doorway.

“Yes, Princess? What is it?”

“I heard a noise. In my wardrobe. I think there’s a monster in there.” Her voice is small, almost tentative as it floats through the darkened bedroom. Jin pushes back his covers, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He reaches back, squeezing your hand, a gesture that says I’ve got this, before getting up and walking toward his daughter. "Alright little lady, let's go investigate." She slips her small hand in his, clutching her stuffed baby eagle close as they make their way back to her bedroom.

Stepping inside, she pulls her hand away from his and points to the white and lavender closet. “In there, Papa.” Her garnet-colored eyes are wide as Jin clears his throat, fixing a scowl on his face as he faces the wooden doors.

“Listen up. This is Prince Jin speaking and any and all monsters hiding in this wardrobe better leave RIGHT now or else you’ll have to answer to me!”

“Yeah!”, she adds helpfully, eyes narrowing as she glares at the wardrobe, a mirror image of her father.

Jin reaches forward and flings open one door, then the other. Inside are all her dresses and coats. Her shoes all lined up neatly along the bottom. A few stockings peek out of small drawers and her wooden training sword and shield with Jin's crest lean against the side, askew. Jin searches through the clothing, stands on his toes to check the top shelves. He makes a show of it, incredibly thorough and yet serious. Then he turns around to face his daughter. “Looks like any monsters are long gone. And they won’t be coming back.”

A smile like the dawn breaks over her face and she rushes towards him. He leans down and catches her in his arms, holding her tightly against his broad chest. “Thank you, Papa. No monster would ever be stupid enough to come back now!” 

Jin carries her back to her white four-poster bed, grinning as he lays her down amongst her fluffy pillows and pulls the soft covers up to her chest. “Nope, not when they know they have to deal with me.” He glances over his shoulder at the wardrobe. “But how about tomorrow, we go to the knights training grounds and you bring your sword and shield. We can work on your swordsmanship so any monster knows to be just as afraid of you too.”

She grins, nodding eagerly. “Good idea!”

Her enthusiasm has him returning her grin and he leans down, running a large hand over the soft chestnut of her hair. “Alright then. Get some sleep so you’re ready for tomorrow.” She snuggles down into the warmth of her blankets, stifling a yawn even as she rolls over. “I love you, Papa.” He swallows for a moment at the lump of emotion that suddenly swells his throat. “I love you too. Princess. So much.”

Keith

Little feet whisper across dark green carpeting, continuing their journey to his side of the bed. “Papa,” she whispers, tugging on his covers, her stuffed deer dangling from her grip on its antlers. Keith inhales, his handsome face frowning in his sleep as her voice cuts through the fog of dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up yet. However, his daughter is nothing but insistent. She pats his upper arm, clearing her throat and speaking again, this time louder. “Papa. Wake up.”

His golden eyes open slowly and he blinks as he returns to the here and now. The sight of her, with her ashen blond hair and your intelligent eyes, has him sitting up in bed, the last misty tendrils of dreaming vanishing like fog in the sunlight.

“Yes, darling? What’s wrong? Is everything ok?” 

She glances to your empty side of the bed. “I miss Mama.” Those words send his heart spinning, leaving a trail of ache inside his chest as he nods slowly. “I do too. But you remember how she had to go back to Rhodolite. I promise, she’ll be home again soon. Just a few more days.” He reaches for her hand, his thumb running soothingly over her knuckles, marveling at the tininess of her fingers, the softness of her skin. She speaks again, her voice compressed by sadness. “I still miss her.”

He sighs as she hangs her small head, curls covering her face. Then he has an idea. Slowly he gets out of bed and leads her by the hand across the room to the heavy glass doors of the balcony off of the bedroom, his favorite place in the palace to stargaze. Keeping a secure hold of her hand, he slides open one heavy glass door and then walks with her to the large brass telescope. “Take a look in there,” he murmurs, kneeling as he adjusts the eyepiece for her. He wraps one arm around her middle, holding her close. “Can you see it?”

She leans forward slightly. “It’s blurry.” Carefully he adjusts the focuser until he hears her breath catch. “Oh it’s so pretty!” She stares through the telescope in wonder at the bright star, brilliant in its silvery-blue light. 

“That,” he says softly, almost dreamlike, “is your mother’s favorite star.” Gently he pulls her away from the telescope and points upwards. “You can see it without the telescope just there, see the three stars just in a row?” She nods emphatically. “It’s the one all the way to the right.” He pauses, resting his chin tenderly on her small shoulder. “When you miss Mama at night, like you do now, you can look up at the sky and find her favorite star. It may make you feel better.”

She turns around and wraps her arms around Keith’s neck, hugging him with all her might. “Thank you, Papa.” He hugs her close, this walking embodiment of his heart, and smiles.

Gilbert

He is already sitting up when his daughter approaches the bed, her stuffed tiger tucked under her arm. He heard the opening of the door and knew who it was immediately. No one else would ever dare to enter his bedroom in the middle of the night without fearing for their life.

“It’s past midnight, Mäuschen. Why are you wandering through the shadows?” His voice is a gentle that only you and those very close to Gilbert have ever heard. A genuine softness like the blanket of dusk as it falls over the land, the protective moon whispering as it cradles a favorite star. His daughter sighs, pushing away a stray lock of dark hair. “I’m hungry.”

He laughs quietly, his chin tilting down as he regards her. He speaks quietly, not wanting to wake you. You need rest after all, so close to the birth of your second child. He gets up, slipping on his black silk robe and then holds out his hand. She takes hold of it, wrapping her cool little fingers tightly around him and then pauses. “Wait a moment, Papa.” Turning back to the bed, she carefully places her stuffed tiger next to you where you sleep. “Watch out for Mama,” she orders sternly and doesn’t notice the bright gleam in Gilbert’s eyes as he smiles at her protective gesture. She turns, grabbing his hand and nods. “Ok Papa, fertig.” Ready.

He leads her out of the bedroom and a short walk down the hall to his office. Once inside, he walks over to his massive wooden desk, made of the finest dark walnut, and leans forward, turning on the desk lamp. He settles into his chair, into the crimson velvet cushioned seat and motions for her to join him. The Obsidian princess climbs into his lap, eyes bright as she looks at him expectantly. “Shh…this is our secret,” he murmurs, tapping his finger on the end of her nose. She grins slowly and nods. “Versprochen, Papa.” I promise. One arm holds her close as he leans down and opens a bottom drawer. Inside is a small round tin which he takes out and sets on his desk, next to the missives and parchments waiting for him come morning light.

“Go ahead,” he says encouragingly and she leans forward, carefully working the lid off with chubby fingers and then he feels her straighten up in excitement when its contents are revealed. She reaches in and pulls out a hearty oatmeal and raisin biscuit. The cookie is nearly at her lips when she pauses, thoughtfully. Shifting in his lap, she turns to face him and then holds it up. “Do you want a bite, Papa?” Her generosity has him smiling, a warmth like no other brightening his heart as he pretends to consider. “You don’t mind sharing?” She shakes her head, several loose, dark curls framing a face that is the youthful echo of yours. He leans forward and bites off a tiny corner, then leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Mama makes the best biscuits.” 

She bites into the same cookie with much less restraint and then smiles, chewing happily. “Mm hm.” She leans back against his chest and he wraps his arms around her as she continues munching. “Just this one and then it's back to bed with you, little mouse.” She nods, mouth too full to answer and focus far too lost in the pleasure of her treat to respond verbally. Gilbert sighs, turning to rest his cheek against the top of her head. He is utterly and completely at peace.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381

For Leon content: @leonscape

For Gilbert and Leon: @ozalysss

For Keith: @drewadoodle-dandy

[apollos-boyfriend]

anyways this session has really solidified the reason quackity chose the people he did for me. because i remember connor getting an ask a while back complaining about how they wanted quackity to add people who would actually play instead of his friends (ie wilbur) who may not be active as often and. it rubbed me the wrong way for a lot of reasons, but mainly because it's clear quackity didn't choose just his friends. sure, it was a bonus that he was close to them, but quackity's first priority has never been "who can minmax the server and stream every day?" it's been "who is a good storyteller/who can tell a good story?"

because that's the core of it. the qsmp isn't about streaming or playtime, not necessarily. it's about the story. during the first announcement, people were surprised to see dantdm and jaidenanimations on the cast, because dan isn't really in quackity's circle and jaiden is barely an mcyt even if you push it. but you know what they were? storytellers. dan was a part of so many people's childhoods with his mod showcases and miscellaneous videos, all of which had lore. jaiden creates entire stories from video games! games with pre-determined stories that she has to spin into something new, something of her own.

and then the brazilians were added. some of them still did minecraft content, sure, but not all of them. but they were still storytellers. cellbit has his entire rpg. pac and mike have multiple roleplay series. and when you get to the french, the pattern repeats. baghera, for example, with her gta roleplay. not all of them are minecrafters at their core, but they are storytellers, and for most of them, improvisational ones at that. the same, of course, goes for the newest batch. pol is a filmmaker. vshojo has insane, deeply complex lore for all their vtubers. bagi is adept at ttrpg. sure, people being able to log on often is a necessity, but what good would that be if it ended up sacrificing quality for quantity?

this session really nailed it for me because you could see their expertise shine through. i feel like, even still, a lot of mcrp is seen as "lesser" because of its medium, or because of how it can switch between roleplay and just creators hanging out. roleplay is only typically praised and called to attention when it's highly emotional, and the same goes for the storytelling, with a heavier focus on how well creators can utilize angst as opposed to other moments. but this was treated differently. the silliness of minecraft was gone. what was previously disregarded came into light, like how fucking smart foolish is when writing characters and how well quackity is able to play into the story while staying true to his character, among other things! i just think quackity's brilliance in selecting his server members isn't talked about enough, because holy shit has he done a fantastic job

[pinkslipxox]

Could you write something about reader and Billie having a very natural home birth and Billie being so supportive and attentive

hey mami! Omg yes! Hope you like it 💞

——————————————————————————

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun spilled softly through the windows, casting a golden hue across the cozy living room. Y/N leaned against the plush cushions of their bed, her heart racing with both excitement and nervousness. She was ready, really ready, to welcome their little miracle into the world. This home birth was exactly what she wanted, surrounded by love, comfort, and the familiar warmth of her own space.

Billie, her wife, moved around the room with a mix of excitement and anxiety, her vibrant green hair caught in a messy bun. She had planned this day meticulously, ensuring everything was in place for Y/N’s comfort. Every now and then, Y/N would catch Billie glancing at her with wide eyes, a mix of awe and concern etched across her face.

“Hey, my love,” Y/N said, her voice gentle as she sat on the edge of their bed. “You okay?”

Billie stopped in her tracks, her eyes softening. “I’m just… You’re so amazing,” she replied, her voice laced with admiration. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Y/N chuckled softly, feeling a wave of warmth wash over her. “We’re doing this together, remember?”

Billie nodded, taking Y/N’s hand and squeezing it tightly, as if to ground herself in this moment. “Yeah, together,” she repeated, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Billie's hands were gentle as they intertwined with Y/N's, the warmth of their touch grounding. She looked into Y/N's eyes, which shimmered with a mix of anticipation and determination. "You’re doing amazing, my love," she continued, kissing Y/N’s forehead softly. It was just the two of them, with their midwife quietly preparing in the background, ensuring everything was perfect for the home birth they had envisioned together.

As the first contraction hit, Y/N felt a wave of pressure ripple through her body. She took a deep breath, focusing on the soothing rhythm of her breath, the way Billie’s hand stayed firmly in hers. “Just breathe with me,” Y/N whispered, closing her eyes for a moment of focus.

Billie knelt beside Y/N, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You got this, love. Breathe in… and out. That’s it,” she encouraged, her voice a soft melody. “I’m right here.”

Y/N felt calmer, her mind anchored by Billie’s unwavering presence. As another contraction came, Y/N squeezed Billie’s hand tightly, and Billie winced slightly but didn’t let go. Instead, she leaned in closer, her forehead resting against Y/N’s, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. “You’re incredible. Look at you, my beautiful warrior. Just a little bit longer, and we’ll have our baby.”

The words wrapped around Y/N like a warm blanket, filling her with strength. She focused on Billie’s voice, allowing it to guide her through each wave of pain that came and went.

“You’re doing amazing, Y/N,” Billie said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just think of holding our little one in your arms. I can’t wait to see you as a mom.”

Y/N smiled through the discomfort, imagining the moment when they would finally meet their baby, the culmination of their love. “Me too, Billie,” she replied between breaths, feeling the reassurance wash over her.

As the contractions continued, Billie stayed close, constantly checking in with Y/N, brushing her hands against her belly and whispering love-filled affirmations. “You’re so strong, my love. Everything is going to be perfect.”

With each contraction, Y/N felt power coursing through her body, a primal instinct that was both thrilling and terrifying. Yet through it all, Billie was by her side, unwavering in her support. She brought a cool cloth to Y/N’s forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that formed, and the simple act brought another wave of peace.

Hours passed, and the effort was evident on Y/N’s face, but Billie remained there, unmoved and devoted, and Y/N couldn’t have imagined a better partner to share this moment with.

Finally, when the moment approached more swiftly than Y/N had anticipated, she found herself gripping the bed, breathing through the intensity. “Billie, I—I think it’s time,” she panted, her heart racing with the realization.

Billie’s eyes widened, a mixture of excitement and concern flaring in her chest. “Okay, okay! Just keep breathing. I’m here. You can do this. Remember, you’re my goddess.”

Y/N nodded, feeling empowered by Billie’s words even as the contractions peaked. “I love you, Billie,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Billie replied, her voice filled with pure affection. “You’re my everything.”

With Billie’s and the midwife’s encouragement keeping her grounded, Y/N summoned all her strength, embracing each wave, guiding her body as she prepared to bring their baby into the world.

As the incredible moment approached, Y/N was engulfed by a mix of sensations—pain, excitement, and overwhelming love. Billie held Y/N’s hand tightly, never leaving her side, whispering constant reassurances and reminders of the joy that awaited them. “You’re almost there, love. Just one more push.”

With a final surge of determination, Y/N pushed through the pain, and Billie’s voice became a symphony of praise, urging her on. “That’s it! You’re doing it! Just a little more!”

And then, in a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, it happened. A beautiful cry filled the room, and Billie’s face lit up with joy. “We did it! Oh my god, Y/N, look!”

Y/N blinked through tears of relief and happiness, her heart swelling as Billie cradled their newborn, bringing the tiny bundle closer. “You did this, Y/N! Our baby is here!”

With shaky hands, Y/N reached out, gently touching her baby’s cheek, feeling the warmth between them. “Hi, little one,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Billie leaned in, kissing Y/N tenderly on the forehead. “You’re incredible, princess. I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

In that moment, as they gazed upon their newborn, Y/N knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—two devoted wives, now proud parents, forever united by their love and this beautiful journey they had shared.

[thinkingboute]

would you? | harry styles x model!oc

summary: The show goes off without a hitch, but Lina's interaction with Harry before clouds her mind. At the after party, she takes one for the team when Gigi tries to get in with other One Direction member, Zayn Malik. Ironic meetings lead to a first date. Part 3 of the Masks series.

part 1 here! part 2 here!

warnings: mentions of drugs, disordered eating, vomit, anxiety, alcohol, allusions to sex

a/n: This one was so much fun to write! The parts are getting longer from here.I hope you like it!

word count: about 2.4k

Holy shit these were some high heels. 

Lina danced in place, shaking the nerves that wracked her body as she prepared to walk the stage. Sweat accumulated beneath the bra and underwear---if you could even call them that. Gilded Angels was the theme this year and, goddamn, did Lina feel absolutely gilded. 

The set she wore was less fabric and more faux metal. It appeared that gold had been molded to cup her breasts, pushing them up beyond what she ever thought possible. Her wings were white, like Biblical angel wings, with gold dusted tips. Gold heels wove their way up her calves like Greek sandals. She felt holy. And really fucking hot---in both ways. 

Taylor Hill, who was opening the show, shimmied behind the curtains, lost in the heavy fabric. It was clearly go time, which usually spurred Lina to focus and quit her nervous movement. Today, she couldn’t calm herself down. Pictures of that messy haired Brit flooded her mind. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little excited to walk past him in this outfit. 

You look good. 

That’s what he said to her just an hour ago. Her head was covered in curlers, robe disheveled, eyes closed. She was giddy at the thought of him seeing her all done up. I look better than good now.

Lina squealed as two strong hands shook her shoulders from behind. “Let’s fucking go, Li!” Gigi shrieked, smacking a kiss to her cheek. The girls laughed, jumping up and down. Gigi had a way of making everything seem like just a game.

“Don’t fuck up my hair, Gi,” Lina said, giggling. Gigi’s hands spun Lina to face her. 

Ignoring her comment, Gigi grabbed her face. “I don’t walk until Taylor’s on stage,” she said, clearly excited to walk while her friend performed. Lina had become quite used to being surrounded by stars, but she was a little too excited at the thought of talking to Taylor Swift. She and Gigi had become close since the Oscars earlier that year, and Lina was hoping that would give her and in.

“I walk in…” Lina searched the room for a clock. “Four minutes.”

“I saw you talking to Harry Styles earlier,” Gigi whispered, wiggling her brows. “You seemed to be laughinggg and smilinggg and…” she lowered her voice even more, “flirtinggg…”

“Ugh, leave me alone,” Lina rolled her eyes. “We met at that masquerade thing in October.” Gigi covered her mouth with a hand.

“Why didn’t you te---”

“Because there’s nothing to tell.” Gigi started again but Lina put a hand up. “Really, it wasn’t my best moment. He was just teasing me about it earlier.” Gigi wiggled her brows again. “I was puking in the men’s bathroom, Gi. If there was ever a chance in hell he would be into me, it’s long gone.”

“I’m going to pretend that’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard today,” Gigi said, a crease appearing between her brows. “Anyway, if he really thought you were that weird, he probably would’ve stayed far away from you today. But he didn’t.” Her laugh was more of a hehe.

“I can barely look him in the eye. God, that was terrible, I---” Lina was interrupted by her name being called by the show’s producers. “Time to go. I talk to you later, baby.”

Lina’s hand was pulled towards the curtains. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to center herself as hand flew all around her, adjusting her wings, tousling her hair, and freshening her gloss. 

Lina recognized the song she was set to walk out to. Rock Me. She didn’t think One Direction would have songs that would fit a VS show. They were so…teenage girl. But this song was a bit dirtier, and it had a nice beat. She put on her super sexy and poised model mask and stepped out from behind the curtain. 

The band members were scattered about the runway. Her eyes found Harry at the end immediately. Her shoulders thrown back, she began her walk, smiling and winking at the boys she passed by. She thought one of her wings may have wacked Niall in the face, but she tried not to think much about it. 

She reached Harry after what seemed like a decade of walking. She was too nervous to look him in the eye. She wondered if, when he looked at her now, he still saw the puking corpse he saw a few months ago. 

Harry was certainly not hurting for confidence. He grabbed her hand and spun her around, leading her to walk back down the runway. Lina, as hard as it was, kept up her flirty persona, looking back over her shoulder to wink at him before slowly letting go of his hand. The walk back felt a bit like flying. 

The rest of the show went by in a blur. It was Gigi’s first time walking the show, but no one would’ve been able to tell. Her confidence oozed through every pore of her perfect face. When she got off the stage, she was bouncing off the walls, ready to find some sort of shit food to consume ASAP.

But there was an after party to attend. Lina peeled herself out of her outfit, carefully handing it to the women who surrounded her, ready to rip it from her hands. It wasn’t strange to be naked in front of so many people anymore. She’d been doing it since she was 16. She tried not to think about that part too much. 

Her new outfit consisted of a vintage VS slip, of course, with some artfully ripped tights, and heeled boots that cut off just below the knee. With her hair thrown back loosely into a pony, she felt sufficiently prepared to face her first celebrity party since the ball. 

Darren congratulated her on (his words) another fantastic show. She smiled, mind elsewhere, and got into the car, whose door he held open. 

The ride to the venue was not more than 15 minutes, but for all Lina knew, it could’ve been hours. Her mind was set on exactly what she would say to Harry when she saw him, because she knew she’d see him. His band was full of a bunch of 20 something boys. They would not pass up the opportunity to go to a party full of drinks and models. 

Darren noticed her not-quite-on-Earth-ness and waved a hand in front of her face. She swatted at it, rolling her eyes.

“Thinking about that One Way kid?” he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Darren?” Lina snorted. 

“Whatever, the British kid with the hair. I don’t care to know more about him that I have to.”

“You don’t have to know anything.”

“When he comes to your room tonight, or you go to his, it will be my job to know about him.”

Lina blushed and buried her face in her hands. “Darren, you perv!”

“Trust me, I wish I didn’t have to think about these things. But I saw him leaning on that table earlier, like he’s some sort of Elvis. It was embarrassing how hard he was trying, honestly.”

“I told you about our…run in in October, right? He was just making fun of me,” She said still not looking at him. “And, not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t make it a habit of going to any guys room before I’ve been taken on a proper date.”

It was Darren’s turn to cover his face. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can we please stop talking about this? It feels like discussing my sex life with my father.”

Darren winced. “I’d love nothing more.”

The car pulled up to the hotel the party was taking place in. Although it was dark, it was hard not to spot it. A massive crowd of paparazzi was piled on the steps to the entrance. 

“Fucking perfect.”

Darren slid out of the car, opening the door for Lina. She stepped out, careful not to let any of them snap a picture underneath her dress. She smiled and waved, but didn’t stop for pictures. Darren cut through the crowd, leading her to the door. 

The bar and room surrounding it was strangely reminiscent of the hall that held the masquerade ball. This time, thankfully, Lina was sure she was not going to puke on anyone. She was sure to stop Darren from grabbing her bag before she stepped closer to the bar. She wanted a Cosmo. 

“Liiiiinaaaaaa,” a singsong voice called from behind her. Gigi appeared at her side, face flushed. She seemed to be a few drinks in already. Lina was excited to catch up. “We’re gonna be sisters-in-law!”

Lina’s eyes widened at that. “My brother is 14, Gi. That’s a little gross.”

Gigi snorted, limply swatting at her shoulder. “I didn’t even know you had a brother, idiot. I mean that I have my eye,” she used two fingers to gesture at her eyes, “on tall, dark, and handsome.” She pointed at Zayn Malik, who chatted with a couple guys across the room. 

Lina laughed, “Oh, do you?” 

“Yes, I do. And you’re gonna get with the other one, right? Then, we’ll be sisters! Metaphorically, anyway.” Lina didn’t bother dismissing Gigi’s suggestion; she just laughed. “C’mon, c’mon!” 

“My drink---” Gigi pulled Lina across the room before she could finish her protest, not too close to Zayn, but near enough that they could see him. They leaned against the corner of a wall, observing. “Do you plan to summon him with your mind?”

“No, no, I’m just waiting for my moment,” Gigi whispered. Lina laughed, glancing around the other corner of the wall. There were a few doors lining the walls, but it was otherwise pretty empty. A gasp had her turning her head back to her friend. “He’s walking this way! Go, go, go!” Gigi pushed Lina around the other side of the wall and followed her. “Wait, wait, you can’t be here! Get in there, just for a minute before I get him to come with me somewhere else.” Lina didn’t have a second to say anything before she was shoved into one of the rooms. 

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Lina turned around, taking in the room around her, her eyes catching on the pearly urinals. 

Harry was looking at her, paper towel clasped in his hands as he dried them. He laughed at Lina’s widened eyes. 

“Are you planning to keep your head out of the toilet,” he asked, tossing the paper towel into the bin. “The sink too, I supposed.”

Lina groaned turning to brace herself on the cool, wooden door. “I swear, this was not my idea.”

Harry laughed from behind her. “I should hope not.” He made to move towards the door to leave, but Lina whipped around, placing a hand on his chest.

“We can’t leave,” she whispered. 

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, this isn’t the most sanitary place, and I don’t have a condom but---”

Lina made an ‘ack’ sound before lightly pushing him away from her. “Don’t be weird.” Harry put his hands up in defense. “My friend is out there…with your friend.”

“I’m sure we can come up with a reason other than sex to explain us leaving the bathroom together.”

“Harry, I’m being serious!” Lina said, exasperated. “She pushed me in here because she wants to…talk to your friend.”

“Which friend?”

“Zayn.”

“He doesn’t say much, so that conversation should be over now.” He moved towards the door once again, but Lina grabbed his wrist this time. “She’s pretty drunk, and she’d be pretty pissed if I interrupted her shot. She said she’ll try to get him to go somewhere else as soon as she can.” Harry stifled a laugh. “We can leave soon. Just, I don’t know, be quiet and don’t, like, do anything weird.”

“Me? Do something weird?” he exclaimed, faux defensiveness causing Lina to roll her eyes. “I’m not sure I’m the one to worry about here, woman in the men’s bathroom.”

Lina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Not on purpose.”

“Last time, sure it wasn’t,” Harry said lowly. Lina was keenly aware of her grip that remained on Harry’s wrist. “This time…I think you just wanted to get me alone.” He was closer now, breath fanning her face, alcohol and mint filling her nose. 

“I could get you alone in a less…strange way if I wanted to.” Lina couldn’t look at him, so she examined the holes in her tights. 

“Would you, though?” His voice lowered even more. She wasn’t sure how much lower it could get before it was more of a growl. 

Wow, these tights really were artfully ripped. The perfect place for a tear really is just above the knee. She liked her knees, she supposed, but knees were a little weird overall---

“Carolina.”

“Lina.”

“What?”

“I prefer Lina.”

“Alright, Lina. Wanna answer my question?”

Lina’s breath hitched in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She would not sleep with him tonight, especially not in this bathroom. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about it. She was starting to feel a little warm. 

Harry made to ask her again, but the door banged open, causing the both of them to stumble back and away from one another. Gigi’s eyes widened before she smiled mischievously.

“I am leeeaving, LiLi!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Gi.” She was maybe a little too drunk to go anywhere with any man. 

“No, no, I don’t mean like that,” she giggled. “Zayn said that if I got some rest tonight, he would see me tomorrow.” Lina was a bit surprised at that. “So! I’m leaving!” 

“Why don’t I go with you? Just to be sure you’re alright,” Lina asked, hopeful it would get her  out of answering anymore questions tonight. 

She felt Harry’s eyes on her as Gigi replied, “Oh, sure. Only…” her eyes flitted between the two of them, “If you want to.”

“It’s no problem, really, honey.” Lina felt a little guilty for leaving like this, but really, she was nervous. She’d had a few flings here and there after her rise to fame, but she never had the time to pursue them further. She was a bit rusty, now.

“Alright!” Gigi turned to leave the bathroom as Lina looked in the opposite direction, towards the man behind her.

“I’ll answer your question after dinner, Styles.”

He smiled a small, amused smile. “It’s a date.” 

[uglypastels]

Too Sweet - Hozier x Anthony Bridgerton 🤭🤭🤭

oh my god, my first Anthony fic. So, I really hope I do this justice, though, disclaimer, it is probably not what we were expecting with this prompt combo. I for sure didn't think this is where I would take it, but that's just how it goes with writing, I suppose.

Anyway, thank you for also being my first 2024 Spotify Blurb aaahh it's so good to be back haha. ok, but anyway enjoy

word count: 1.1k warning: mention of commitment issues. 3rd POV. workaholic anthony

Spotify Blurb Event ~ Masterlist TBA

#2 Too Sweet - Hozier

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

The candlelight flickered, announcing its last minutes of life. Though the measly attempt for attention was hardly noticed by the man sitting at his large oak desk. Overfilled with dictations of family accounts, investments, and other correspondence, there was barely enough space for him to let his hands rest. As the little fires around him dimmed into darkness, it was his eyes that began to burn with fatigue and his throat as he downed the last of his whiskey. It numbed everything around him, not that there was much more besides the work that occupied his mind for the entire day. 

He was so taken up in the documents, in fact, that he had not heard the footsteps outside in the halls that softly treaded their way to the heavy doors separating him from the rest of the world. Not even the creaking of door hinges pulled him out of his focus. Only the soft sound of her voice calling his name. 

‘Anthony?’ 

Startled, as if woken up from a deep sleep or perhaps a curse, Anthony looked up. Just like that, he grew aware of his surroundings: the pure darkness outside the windows that had encapsulated his office now as well, the ache in his back and neck from hunching over the parchments, and, specifically, the beautiful figure standing in the doorway. 

‘Are you coming to bed?’ She asked.

‘Yes, just—’

‘We both know it is never just one more account, my lord.’ She said, and even in the darkness, Anthony could tell a small smile adorned her lips. One of bemusement but also sadness. It was, after all, not the first time she had caught him working into the late hours of the night. On the contrary, it was a rare occasion for him to fall asleep at a moderate time. As with most things in life, the natural motions of the sun were merely a suggestion for Anthony Bridgerton. 

‘You’re right,’ he chuckled at her comment, finally putting down the quill and immediately it was like a weight was released off his wrist. He twisted his hand and let the joint crack in satisfaction. ‘But know, I do not expect you to fetch me every evening. It is not your duty to put me to bed.’ 

‘It is my duty to care for the man that cares for me.’ She stated matter-of-factly, if not simply sternly. ‘Especially when he does not seem to take much care of himself.’ As Anthony had reached her side by the door, she halted him with a gentle placement of her palm to his chest, observing the uneven state of his shirt buttons, which he must have adorned for the entirety of the day. As it was far past any regular bedtime, and with no use in closing the shirt once more, she undid the buttons, freeing Anthony from the material. He could not help but glance down as her hands moved down his body so elegantly. 

Perhaps it was his weary state, but he could not help his wandering mind travel to the memories of the first time this interaction between them had occurred—the discarding of clothes, though much rougher in procedure than what it had become over time. A truth far derived from Anthony’s chivalrous manner, and one which would never leave his lips til the day he passes, is that he had imagined the occurrence the moment he had laid his eyes on her. A ridiculous, primitive notion only to suit the needs of the rake that he truly was. 

The hours after their first meeting, Anthony’s mind was riddled with two contradicting thoughts, both prodigious in conception. For one, he had never before felt such a desire for a woman. With her beauty and kindness, this softness in physicality and temperament, a sweetness to fulfil and satisfy all the senses. A softness that his rigidness would do nothing upon but harm, which is why he also felt the strong obligation to distance himself from her as much as possible. 

He knew himself well enough to know that though she may be the woman filling his dreams each late night, he was not the man for her to spend her waking days with. Pursuing her affection would be a selfish act on his part. When he saw her dancing, he felt no right to her hand, let alone her lips or any other fragment of her body. 

Time was meant to be the answer. Anthony supposed that as the months went by, this silly infatuation would pass, that things would change, and, whichever way fate would take him, the frustrations would ease. 

Whichever way, but surely Lady Fortuna would never bring her to him. Not so explicitly as a frustrated–exasperated– march across the gardens, her hand in a tight grip over his wrist, and a pull away from the onlookers and their evergrowing murmurs. 

With the many things running through his mind, Anthony was still unsure how his first direct words to her managed to be a scoff of, ‘This is highly improper.’

‘As improper as you having evaded my existence for the past half year?’ 

‘I–’ Those who knew him knew Anthony to be rarely found at a loss for words, but staring at her at this very moment, as the peonies were in full bloom, he had nothing to say for him. All logic escaped him, or rather, he had freed himself from reason. The rationale behind his past actions felt foolish, only to be confirmed with her kind laugh. 

‘Anthony Bridgerton, you are the most ridiculous man I have ever met.’ And again, Anthony was found silent, but this once, it was not for a lack of words, but rather that she had not gifted him with an opportunity to speak, to begin with. 

With her lips pressed passionately against his, the world faded away. A feeling so new that still never seemed to age or dim with any future kiss that followed. Even now, years later, even when Anthony’s worries about their match resurfaced on such late nights. Where he wondered if he was ever good enough for her or if he could ever live up to the love he promised her, it all dwindled away into a distant whisper until it vanished for good. There was nothing else but him and her. 

Anthony felt his entire body release the tensions of hours past. With a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of his wife’s nearly washed-off perfume, he let go of everything but her. As the lovers kissed in each other's arms, far off in the distance of the ton, the tower clock struck, and the church bells rang in echoes of their final chord of the day. 

the end.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, please consider to like and especially reblog but also I would love to know what you thought of the story so please feel free to leave behind a comment anywhere around the post. all forms are appreciated :] and anon asks are always open if you're not about that public life.

and if you want to send in a prompt yourself, remember to check out the Spotify Blurb challenge, linked on top!

ok, that's all. yap sesh over.

[spxllcxstxr]

Fair Winds and Following Seas • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: That Roman soulmate fic was sooo good 😭😭😭 argfhh biting my pillow rn. May I request a scene rewrite of your choice of them already in an established relationship? They’d have cute bickering and lots of casual physical contact all the time. Maybe theyre on a yacht together like that one episode and theyre just so intertwined all the time that its hard to tell where roman ends and reader starts 😣-- anon

Summary: Roman seems to like casual intimacy, even in front of his family

Warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), based on 2x10 “this is not for tears,” established relationship, alcohol, ken suicide joke (one line, nbd), roman jokingly calls something 'domestic abuse' it certainly is NOT that, normal Roman shenanigans

Word Count: 1.1k

A.N: guys, I usually write fantasy so this dialogue may just suck ass im SORRY LMAO, lemme know what you think!!! Hope you guys enjoy! Roman is so bbg

•

The Mediterranean sun warms your exposed skin while the sea breeze keeps you from getting uncomfortably hot. The Roy's certainly knew how to take a vacation.

Roman lazily drapes his arm over your shoulders, the small act of casual intimacy in front of his siblings something you still can't really get used to just yet. The family, you learned pretty quickly, was not a clingy one, so Roman's constant need to be touching you in some way in front of them was unexpected.

You sigh happily at his side, ignoring the boring work talk the siblings had already immersed themselves in.

The weather was just too divine for you to focus on anything other than the free vacation and your boyfriend.

Shiv's piercing blue eyes peer curiously over her dark sunglasses. Her gaze causes you to straighten your back and shift ever so slightly away from Roman. You've noticed that her and Tom were never exactly touchy, but then again her and Tom were barely a loving couple.

The harsh scrutiny of her stare doesn't go unnoticed by Roman, who immediately pulls you back closer to him. Your cheeks flush at his blatant display of affection.

"Something the matter, Siobhan?" Roman asks, his voice slightly higher than usual with a British twang to it. His fingers absentmindedly trace odd shapes across your back. He sips at his cocktail, eyebrows raised waiting for her retort.

Shiv’s intense gaze slowly slides over to Kendall. Their older brother offers your group a half-assed shrug.

"Nothing at all, Roman." She offers you both a tight-lipped smile, swirling her white wine in front of her.

Awkwardly you lean back into him as he sarcastically grumbles something under his breath, unconvinced. Roman’s body in tense beside you, but stays firmly pressed next to your own.

Sounds of waves crashing against the yacht and distant conversations almost lure you to sleep though the three sibling’s chatter keeps you just conscious enough that you don’t completely drift off.

You hear Kendall get up from his seat, his joints popping.

"I'm gunna go check on dad," He says, voice low though he knows you're not actually asleep. "I'll catch you guys later."

"Just don't jump off the boat, Ken. We're not turning the ship around just for your old-ass." Roman jokes before yelping at Shiv's slap to the shoulder.

You hide your tiny grin with a fake yawn.

"Very funny, Rome," Ken mutters before leaving the three of you.

It's awkward, just the three of you alone; the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Shiv clears her throat and you can only imagine the patronizing look she has on her face. Roman shifts, and most likely flips her off, but otherwise he's silent.

Moments later you hear the thud of expensive yet tacky yachting shoes against the floorboards, which could only mean Tom.

"Shiv, uh," The man stutters, obviously distracted by something. Slowly you open an eye, peering over at the man. "Why don't we go and uh, discuss that thing from before, huh?"

Tom's eyes can barely settle on one thing, he looks between you and Roman before only briefly settling on his wife. His cheeks are a little red, but with a man that pasty, it's sure to be a light sunburn.

"Oh yeah?" She asks, almost seductively, blue eyes twinkling with some hidden secret.

Tom's lips tilt down into a frown, now no longer even looking in your direction. He's jealous, you figure, you've never seen him and Shiv cuddled up like this, at least not comfortably so. Someone is always tense and irritated.

After sparing her husband a glance, you see her eyes narrow and her lips drawing into a tight line.

You offer them a smile while Roman once again gives a rude gesture.

Swiftly, Shiv rises from her seat, empty wine glass in hand. She barely gestures a simple goodbye before walking away with Tom. You watch as she says something to him, which makes him recoil from her.

You could only imagine what that was about, but you figure it was you and Roman.

You press your cheek even harder against Roman's chest, almost like you're trying to burrow your way under his skin. The fresh white linen shirt he's wearing is soft underneath you. His uncalloused fingertips continue to dance across your exposed arm.

He's no longer tense, you notice; his muscles are more relaxed now that his siblings are nowhere to be seen. Logan wasn't around either, which eased the thick and looming tension that usually hung around the family.

Roman chuckles, tangling his feet around yours.

"What's got you all giggly today?" You ask, closing your eyes as you soak in more of the warmth.

"I'm not giggly, thank you very much. Giggling is for school girls and wine drunk single moms."

"Yeah, ok," You snort, smiling.

"You're just all over me like a fucking uh--"

"Koala?"

"Nah, more like one of those bigass fucking boa constrictors, y'know the ones I'm talking about?"

"A boa constrictor?" You gasp, jokingly offended at his words. Shifting from your position you eye your boyfriend. "You asshole!" Grabbing a small pillow from beside you, you hit him square in the chest repeatedly.

You're hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips, pinning him to the couch below him.

"Hey, hey!" He laughs, attempting to grab your wrists. "This is domestic abuse! ABUSE! ABUSE! Greg call the cops, she's beating me!"

Somewhere in the distance you can only faintly hear Greg stutter something, but your laughter is too loud to actually make it out.

Roman finally grabs the decorative pillow out of your hands and flings it somewhere.

His brown hair is messy, strands dangle in front of his eyes, no longer slicked back and proper. The laughter dies down but his bright smile remains, melting your heart.

"You're an absolute prick, Roman Roy, y'know that?" You whisper, lips lingering right over his.

"Oh I know," He smirks, irritatingly handsome like usual, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. "And you fucking love it."

Surging up, his lips connect with yours, traces of coconut and pineapple left on his tongue. The sweetness of rum mingles with the fruity aftertaste.

Humming in satisfaction, you close your eyes and place your hands on either side of his face, leaning into the kiss. Roman's light scruff rubs against your palms.

Eventually you pull back in order to breathe in the salty Mediterranean air. Roman's lips chase after your own, hoping to continue and subsequently never stop again.

"Yeah, I do." You sigh, gazing at his eyes as they turn into a molten shimmering gold hue in the afternoon sun.

•