#they can't get a high five right that's for sure

[lyricwritesprose]

So I've known Winter since she was a weird little goth egg who borrowed my jewelry, but she's never asked for my expertise as a large animal veterinarian before. Winter doesn't have large animals. Winter has three cats, brothers, named Sauce, High Fructose Corn Syrup, and Bobby. (Bobby is the ginger one.)

So I wasn't sure what was up when she told me to bring my "hoof stuff" and not to tell anyone, but you know, she's my friend. An hour's drive and a little secrecy is nothing.

She met me at the door and escorted me upstairs and into her bedroom, and there was a demon lying on the bed. Red. Horns. Tail. Winter's grandma's quilt over him. Very confused expression.

"He says he hasn't had hoof care for a long time," Winter explained. "Apparently conditions in Pandemonium kind of suck."

Well, that, at least, was straightforward. "Yeah, I'll take a look at them. You owe me an explanation or five."

"Not really much to explain," Winter said apologetically. "I needed help with biochem."

"There are about ten thousand ways that statement does not lead to this situation."

"Oh, come on, like you've never tried to summon a demon to do your homework."

"No, as a matter of fact, I haven't, because that's academic cheating and as a vet, it could be a life or death matter for me to actually know stuff. Also demons aren't—" You can't exactly say demons aren't real with one watching you. "Necessarily any better at biochem than I am. So you tried some spell and—oh. Ouch. Yeah, that's a gnarly looking hoof, you're going to need some treatment on that. Looks like maybe you haven't been walking around much?" That was to the demon. "Because the edges should wear down if you have proper room to move."

"I don't." His voice was softer than I expected. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Hoof trim," I said, "first of all. Have you had anything to eat? Do you need anything to eat?"

"I ordered door dash from the Indian place half an hour ago," Winter said. "Should be any minute. It's the only decent vegetarian place around here and I really don't want to deal with the whole question of which critters are acceptable to eat across cultural differences, so—yeah. See, the problem is, Asgrvanisaghl has been through a lot since some asshole 'higher demon' put his name in a grimoire, which means that we've got to find a way to block summonings as necessary or at least keep him from getting controlled when they happen."

"I don't do magic," I said, laying out my bag of tools, "I do comfortable hooves. Although, you know, you could call in Shawn. He's got that mythology special interest going on."

"I texted him. He can come by tomorrow but he's doing a thing."

I nodded. "You are probably," I told the demon, "going to have to repeat the name you want me to use for you several times before I get it. I'm not great with pronunciation. Right, so hoof trimming tools probably look different where you're from, but the principles should be the same. This is—"

"Why are you doing this?"

I shrugged. "I mean. We're humans."

"But—no. Humans want great wealth, or they want their rivals removed, or they want the love of the most beautiful woman in the land, or they want—other things—"

"Humans are bastards sometimes and they should not have treated you like that."

He didn't seem to know what to do with that statement.

"But the main thing about humans is that we clump up in groups. You wanna guess what group me and Winter were in, in high school?"

He shook his head wordlessly.

"The group of kids that didn't fit in. Queer, autistic, whatever. And believe me I'm going to call in all of us until we can make sure you're safe."

"But. I'm not one of you."

I shrugged again. "You are now."

The demon collapsed onto your bed. A vacant stare in his eye as he uttered “this is the 10,000th time I’ve been summoned. can we make it easy? Please?”

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

chapter tags: discussions of a burn victim (nothing graphic), discussions of suicide and mental health, very brief mentions of things that happened in past chapters (Tommy's mom, military, red handkerchief, implied noncon), anxiety, depression, background character death, Tommy calls the crisis hotline

read below or on ao3

Day 10: 2022

“I'm calling Roberts in early, you can go home.”

“Captain Marks-”

“No, Kinard! What you did out there was careless. You could've gotten yourself killed.”

“And if I'd done nothing, that man would be dead.”

“He's gonna wish he were dead if he ever wakes up! He's got third degree burns on over seventy percent of his body! I don't mean to be harsh, Tommy, but you risked your life for a dead man walking!”

“So?” 

Marks took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair. “I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear you say that. I know emotions are high right now, but you know as well as I do I can't have a pilot that isn't concerned about whether they live or die.”

“That's not-”

“Stop talking, Kinard,” Marks warned. “You're on the ground for five shifts, I'll reevaluate things myself after that. If I have any hesitation, for even a moment, about your intentions here, you're getting a psych eval. That'll put you on the ground forever. You understand me?”

Tommy pursed his lips, nodding his head. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, go home, enjoy the rest of your Christmas, come back next shift with a clear head.”

*****

By the time Tommy got home, it was nearing ten o'clock at night. His brain was a jumbled mess. It didn't seem to matter how many times he hit the punching bag in his garage, it was never enough.

After a quick shower, he thought about laying down.

But even the idea of that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

So, he began to pace.

He paced, and paced, and paced, with his hands on his hips. From the living room, to the kitchen, down the hall, and back again.

It all felt like too much. He wasn't just thinking about today. He was thinking about his mom. He was thinking about the military. He was thinking about the red handkerchief. He was thinking about waking up in a stranger's apartment with no clue what happened the night before.

He was thinking, thinking, thinking, pacing, pacing, pacing, and he needed it all to stop.

Just stop!

So he did something he never thought he'd do.

He wasn't even sure what made him do it.

All he remembered was pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing the number.

988.

“988 crisis lifeline, this is Penny. How can I help you today?”

He froze.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

He swallowed. Closed his eyes.

“I'm here.”

“Oh, good. May I ask who I'm speaking with?”

“Tommy,” no attempt to try for a fake name.

“Hi, Tommy! I'm Penny. I know I said it before, but I like to make sure the people I speak to heard me. Tommy, ca-”

“I'm not... I don't wanna kill myself,” Tommy interrupted, needing to make it clear. “I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Okay.” Her voice was soothing, familiar almost. A voice that Tommy hadn't heard in years. “That's what I'm here for, Tommy. What's on your mind?”

He tried to think of what to say. Tried to figure out the perfect way to start the conversation.

He was usually so put together.

But everything felt off.

“I hate Christmas.”

He wasn't sure why that was the first thing that popped into his brain at this moment, but it was out there now.

“A lot of people have complex feelings about holidays. It can be tough sometimes, no doubt about it.”

The tiny admission seemed to open a floodgate for Tommy. “My mom was thirty-eight when she died, and I'm thirty-eight now,” he explained. He was sure the words coming out of his mouth were just as jumbled as the thoughts in his head. “And she- she didn't die around Christmas. She actually died in June, so I don't know why I keep thinking about her today of all days, but I do. Not just her; I'm thinking about a lot of things. But it all sort of leads back to her at the end, I guess.”

“Was Christmas important to her?” Penny asked.

“She loved it when I was really little. Always liked looking at the lights and taking me to the mall to pick out things I wanted. I think my dad ruined Christmas for her though.”

“He wasn't big on the holiday?”

“He wasn't big on family. Looking back, I can see how being with him changed her. I didn't recognize it back then.”

“You were young. She probably didn't want you to recognize it.”

Tommy sighed, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. “She didn't get thirty-nine Christmases, you know? And that doesn't really seem fair. Because I'm here for my thirty-ninth Christmas and I don't even like the damn day. She deserved more. She deserved better.”

“It's never easy to understand why the people we love get taken from us too soon. It can be especially difficult when we lose them as a child.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “She didn't get taken from me,” he bit out, “she left me.”

There was a pause on the line, then, “I'm sorry?”

“Yeah, she uh, she made that choice to leave herself. Stuck me with my dad, who never really gave a crap about me in the first place, and she... she was just gone.”

“I'm sorry about that, Tommy. That's a lot to have to deal with as a kid.”

“I don't ever talk about it, about her. I don't really have anyone to talk about it with. My dad never cared for emotions, so I just plaster a smile on my face and put my shoulders back and keep going.” Tommy shook his head, clearing his throat and wiping away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. “That's not why I called though. Not because of her.”

“Okay,” Penny replied. “Tell me why you called, Tommy.”

Tommy rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension running through his body. “I did something stupid at work today, and I knew better. I just didn't care.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I work for the fire department. I'm a firefighter pilot, but today I was on the ground. We were called to a fire at this house- well, more like a mansion- and we thought we had the place cleared. Then the daughter started yelling for her dad. I headed back inside and found him, um,” Tommy paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It's okay, Tommy. Take your time.”

“He- He was at the source of the fire. A fairly large space heater exploded and the fire had spread quickly. The house was about to collapse, and I was being told to get out, but I stayed. Long story short, I was able to get the man out right before the structure collapsed. He was severely burned though. If he makes it, and it's a big if, he's going to wish he hadn't. My captain won't let me fly for a while now. Sent me home early.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I wasn't even supposed to work today. I took the shift because I hate this damn holiday.”

“You've mentioned that three times now,” Penny noted.

“What?”

“How much you dislike Christmas. Tommy, do you think that maybe the risk you took today had something to do with the fact it's Christmas? Emotions were already high, making you take risks you wouldn't usually take?”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Maybe? I don't really know though, because I feel like I'm ready to take those same risks any day, anytime. I said it before, and I meant it, I'm not trying to die. I just... I don't think I care if I do. It didn't matter to me if I didn't make it out. We're all gonna die someday, you know? That's what I always figure. What's it matter if it's now?”

“I think it would matter to the people who love you. The people who care about you.”

“I don't think I know anyone well enough for them to be affected by my death.”

“Well, it would matter to me,” Penny replied matter-of-factly, and Tommy couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“I dunno, I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.”

“Thank God for that, I'd hate it if you were too perfect.”

“Well, I never said I wasn't perfect. Perfect and bitch can go together, right?”

“I think it's a great pairing.”

A smile lingered on Tommy's face. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to someone so openly. “Penny?”

“I'm here.”

“Would you stay on the phone with me until Christmas is over?”

“Honey,” she answered, Tommy softening at the name, “I can honestly say there's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

Penny stayed on the phone with him until 12:01. She was willing to stay on the line longer, but by the time Tommy had watched the clock strike midnight, he was ready to go to bed.

He felt better. A little lighter than he had in a while.

He'd been in bed for about fifteen minutes, and was just dozing off when his phone buzzed.

It was Captain Marks.

The man from the house fire died on the operating table.

I know you wanted to save him, Tommy.

Unfortunately we can't save them all.

Tommy stared at the texts for a good ten minutes before switching over to the phone app and dialing 988 again.

[zivazivc]

floyd has big brother flavored mommy/daddy issues you can't convince me otherwise, sorry, i've spent too much time thinking about it. he is crushing on a troll too old for him and he doesn't know how to deal except to use his adorable baby brother charm. he thinks it's working (question mark)

these images were drawn in three sessions over a longer period so i'm no longer that happy with les's look in the first part since I was still figuring him out, but man do i find this idea entertaining and cute and want to share it even though i also feel really weird about it skdjbvkbfc 🙈🙊😳

the pillars of their relationship if you even care:

one of them is going to lose

[medicinemane]

Saw a poll asking which fast food I'd give up for a week for a million dollars, and it's like I'd give up fucking food for a week for that price, there's literally nothing that wouldn't be on the chopping block when it's giving it up for a week

Not to mention I already barely have fast food once a month, and that's only if you count the costco pizza or burgers from the general store (which are more like backyard bbq style... like... the not great but not bad kind from a grill, you know?)

So... money please, I already won, pay me

[theothin]

Exactly. If you ask someone about the commonality of something in a language they speak, and it's not something they've tracked or something where they've already heard the answer, they can't reliably give the right answer, but they'll probably have a gut feeling about some answers being more plausible than others. And all feelings are rooted in subconscious statistical analysis, regardless of the quality of the statistics and analysis.

Now, how do statistics factor into learning facts from a Wikipedia article? For one thing, if you're forming a strong belief that a thing is true because you read it on Wikipedia, you form that belief because you trust Wikipedia to provide reliable information on that topic. What does it mean to trust something? Trusting a source to provide reliable information is rooted in predicting that information it reports is highly likely to be true. Our brains form those predictions through statistical analysis, and they express those predictions through the feeling that a given source is (or is not) trustworthy.

Those predictions are, of course, not always correct. We can get bad data, by getting incorrect information on whether or not something a source reported was in fact true, or we can do bad analysis on the data we do have. If someone sees five claims from a source, and ultimately learns five of those claims to be true and five of them to be false, but they spend five hours thinking about the true claims and only five minutes thinking about the false claims, they could end up giving their brain 60 times as many thoughts associated with the true claims as with the false claims, and end up with the feeling that the source is significantly more likely to provide true claims than false ones despite that not being the case. But as flawed as it is, that is statistical analysis.

Brain-time ties nicely into another point where statistical analysis plays into learning a fact from a Wikipedia article: the act of reading. When we look at a set of words in front of us, what we're doing is taking in visual input data and assessing that the shapes we're looking at are likely to correspond to the words we interpret them. Sometimes, those words are very familiar shapes that we can assess with extremely high confidence. But we can also guess with less confidence about the words represented by unfamiliar fonts, handwriting, or spelling.

Now, when we look at that sentence...

Herbert S. Zim, in his classic introductory cryptography text Codes and Secret Writing, gives the English letter frequency sequence as "ETAON RISHD LFCMU GYPWB VKJXZQ"... different ways of counting can produce somewhat different orders.

...we don't give our brain just one data point represented. The human eye sees about 75 frames per second, so if you look at the sentence for one second, you're getting about 75 frames worth of visual data on it. Is that enough to memorize all the relevant information? Probably not. But the more you look at it, the more memory data you get. You can train your brain to predict that a thought of "the most common letters" will be followed by E, then T, then A, then O, then N, for however many you focus on teaching yourself. Personally I found it easier for the sections that look more like words, sequences where my brain attaches greater likelihood to subsequent letters following ones before it. ETAON? Sure. RISHD? Tougher, but manageable. LFCMU? What the hell is that?

It's all statistical analysis, so many layers of it. It's not always good statistical analysis, but bad statistical analysis is still statistical analysis.

I read a post about AI about how "oh it's just doing statistics on patterns so it's not really intelligent, look at this type of error it makes" and I thought it would be rude to reblog directly so I'm making my own post:

AI makes mistakes in the ways humans do. The way humans, like, create abstract thoughts, and weird bias and prejudice get into those thoughts, and this is why AI training needs to be very careful to not replicate human bias and frequently stumbles in this pursuit.

Like, yes it doesn't do everything humans do but it does some of the things, and isn't that wild? That we can create a machine that can create abstractions like humans can? That's incredible to me, like we have figured out how to make abstraction machines, and what is thinking if not abstracting!

This kind of error, of assuming that "object A must belong in category X because it is seen in the same kinds of contexts that I have learned things in category X belong in" is a very human mistake! AI falls for optical illusions, it often makes mistakes similar to the ones freshmen get wrong in exams, it is able to capture vibes and that's unsettling and weird and wonderful!

We have a machine that can probe a form of human pattern recognition that we've never been able to see before! And humans are masters of pattern recognition, it's our greatest quality. And we're being crept on by computers in this one aspect, like we were in so many others at different points in history.

[engagemythrusters]

domino twins

[july-19th-club]

one thing about getting sick for me is that before covid (the first time) my colds and flus and whatnot all went in a very specific pattern: i would get a sore throat for a day or two, then violently congested for three or four days, then a runny nose/drainage for three or four days after that, and finally a cough, which was my favorite part of the cold (if a person can be said to have a favorite part of a cold) because it meant it was almost over AND that the problem was largely not in my face and neck anymore. but any illness i've had since that first covid has been all over the map - either i don't get the sore throat at all, just straight into the congestion, or the sore throat happens at a different time, or longer, or worse, or i have to spit a lot because otherwise i get so nauseous from sinus drainage that i throw up, or the congestion and the runny nose happen concurrently with not just each other but ALSO the sore throat (which is what's happening right now and i hate it) and like. because it doesn't follow the pattern i spent twenty-six years of my life getting used to, i'm always freaked out. which i would be anyway because ever since i had the first covid getting sick freaks me out. and it should freak more people out if im being honest. but this is a weird one bc like. i dont know how it did that but it disrupted MY trusty sick pattern

[neverendingford]

.

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, but after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[szqnxi]

|| Make...Love?

Shoto Todoroki x reader

Tsuyu hosted a sleep over at her room and all of Class 3-A girls are invited.  Obviously, a sleep over won't be complete without fluffy cushions, games, gossips and a special mention of Yaoyorozu's tea.

You guys have been playing truth or dare for a while, it's just you and Uraraka that hasn't got their turns which makes you uneasy. You honestly don't know what Mina would ask you to do and you've already seen the things the girls did. One thing's for sure, this woman is scary.

"So...... Izuku right?" Mina asked as she turned to Uraraka who's face is now turning bright red.

"I don't like where this is going" Uraraka replied, trying to hide her flushed face in the palm of her hands, which activated her quirk, causing her to float around the room.

Mina giggled a little maniacally at Ochaco's words. In her head, she's thinking of all the things she would have her do, but you know she won't torment the poor girl that much. The pink haired removed "truth" as a choice because according to her, that's no fun at all. The girls agreed, including you, which you kind of regret now.

"So the dare is--" she paused, thinking for a second. "You need to send Midoriya a selfie. You can't tell him it's for a dare tho" this made Uraraka groan as she sat back beside Jirou. 

"Oh! You need to ask his opinion about your new necklace as well" Hagakure added and Yaoyorozu agreed. The girls gave each other a high five while Uraraka let out a defeated sigh.

She opened her front camera and positioned the phone above her head, tugging on the chain slightly. She showed us the picture before sending it to Izuku. The picture was rather suggestive in your opinion; the angle made her necklace pop up, but the top part of her bossom is visible in the background, it didn't help that her face is a little red in the photo as well.  

Uraraka:    *Sent a photo* 

                   Deku-kun, what do you think of new my necklace? 

                                                                   message delivered

 

"Now we wait" Mina cheerfully said and turned to you "You've been awfully quiet y/n" you can't help but to notice that grin plastered on her face and you know damn well she's up to no good.

"Let's get this over with" you told her with a sigh. You just wanted to quickly finish whatever suffering she's going to put you through.

Jirou pulled out her phone, searched for something before handing it to Mina. While they were busy discussing something, you nervously turned to Momo who's currently adjusting the eyeglasses he took from Iida "Can I back out?"  but she just gave you a cheeky smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Goodluck" 

Momo was the first one to be dared; her dare was to walk up to Iida, grab his glasses, wear it in front of him and walk away without saying anything. Tsuyu was dared to sit on Shoji's lap for 20 minutes. Hagakure had to confess on her long time crush, Ojiro, and lastly, Jirou was dared to shower Denki with praises for 10 minutes straight. Mina, on the other hand, was dared to kiss Bakugo on the cheeks, and you can already guess what happened next.                                                         

A phone was shoved into your line of sight. "You need to do this" Mina said while she pointed at the phone with a video playing. You look at her horrified but she just laughed at your face. 

"But with who?" Tsuyu asked.

"Todoroki" Uraraka grinned. 

"Yep. Definitely Todoroki." Jirou crossed her arms and nodded while her eyes are closed. 

You looked at them confused.  Although you do have a  crush on Shoto, you have never told anyone about it nor show even a slight interest at him. You can feel your face heat up at the sudden realization that your friends knows about your little crush on him all along. 

You sighed in defeat and just accepted the dare. What can possibly go wrong, right?

"We'll be watching" Mina winked at you as you guys marched towards the common area where the boys are hanging out. The girls stopped by the stairs, peeking a little. You made your way towards the couch where Kirishima and Shoto are sitting.  

"Yo, y/n" Kiri greeted you and you just replied with a nod.

You sat beside Shoto who was munching on a chocolate chip cookie. He offered you a piece which you happily took and ate beside him. 

"Oh this is good! Who made this?" you asked.

"I made it" Shoto turned to you. "I asked Kirishima and Bakugo to teach me" you nodded and quickly look away. You quietly scanned the whole room; Kiri and Shoto are minding their own business eating the cookies Shoto made, the Baku-squad are playing a video game while Izuku and the others are playing a monopoly game, though Izuku isn't really playing, he's just staring at the screen of his phone, looking very red. 

You can't help but to chuckle to yourself. You quickly glanced towards the girls and Mina mouthed "now". Unbeknownst to you, Kiri was also looking at the girls direction, when your eyes landed on him, he gave you a confused look and you just replied with an apologetic look. His mouth turned into a circle when realization hits him.

'A game huh' he mouthed and you answered with a nod.

"Shoto" you turned to him.

"Yes?" 

"Can we--" here goes nothing "make...love?" You can see Kirishima choke on his cookie in your peripheral vision.

"Make love?" he asked, confused. 

You nodded. You can feel your face heat up. You looked away, not wanting to see the look on Shoto's face, you mentally wished that the couch would swallow you up because of the embarassment you feel.

You don't know what Shoto's response will be, but knowing him, you're sure he'll be nice at least. You mentally braced yourself for a rejection you're about to face. Or so you thought.

"Sure, but do we even have the ingredients for that?" 

"What?" You and Kirishima said in unison. 

Shoto looked at you two, confusion visible on his face. 

"This is the first time I've heard about that dish" he stated. Kirishima snorted and finally let out the laugh he's been holding for so long, while you bit your inner cheek to hold back yours. Shoto on the other hand, ignored the red head and called Bakugo instead.

"Bakugo, can you send me the ingredients for love?" he asked as he pulled out his phone and started searching for the dish called love. 

"What the fuck, Icy-Hot?!" Bakugo yelled, his eyes landed on Shoto, his face looking like he just heard the stupidest thing in the world. This took the attention of your other classmates as well.

His gaze left his phone, he quickly looked at you then at Bakugo "Y/n said they wanted to make lov-" you hurriedly jumped from your seat to cover Shoto's mouth. 

"Ah! Oh my gosh don't mind him! It's a dare!" You half shouted.  Your classmates just laughed at you, you can feel your face heat up due to embarrassment. 

'Screw you Mina' you thought to yourself.

"Didn't know you're freaky like that y/n" Denki teased you. The others gave you a teasing look as well.

"It's a dare!" You shouted in horror. 

"Sure, if you say so" he and the others laughed and get back to playing again. Kirishima, who's laughing with the others, stood up and bid farewell to the both of you. "I'll leave you guys to your own business" he said with a wink. 

You just sighed. You're pretty sure all of your classmates will be teasing you for the next few days. 

"Y/n" Shoto mumbled under your hand. 

You quickly removed your hand from his mouth and apologized. "Sorry" you said awkwardly as you sat back on your spot again.

He just hummed. Silence took over the both of you. You quietly glanced towards the stairs and the girls are nowhere to be seen. They must've gone back to Tsuyu's room. You contemplated whether to go back to her room or not. 

You let your eyes wander and it stopped at his phone, a search tab was open and it was an article about "make love". You turned to face Shoto, you opened your mouth to explain about the dare, but before you can say something, he pulled you by the collar of your shirt and gave you a peck on the lips. 

You stared at him, wide eyed.

"I can't exactly give you what you want right now but I'm pretty sure a kiss will suffice?" he said.

"Wha-" he kissed you again. This time it was longer, until it was interrupted when a throw pillow hit the back of his head. 

"Get a room you fucking dumbasses!!" it was Bakugo. 

Great.

You gave him a middle finger and was about to talk back when Shoto pulled you away from the scene and lead you towards the second floor. 

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Getting a room" he opened the door to his room and shoved you inside.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to give you what you want after all" he smiled at you and locked the door.

|| Masterlist

Note:Request box is open, pls pls pls drop someeeeee. I'd also appreciate anon comments/interactions so don't hesitate to reach out!!

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (2)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : aaand I just couldn't let this storyline go. Typical. Best to read part one before this one :)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan have gotten a lot closer since the press tour for season two, but neither one has made a move. The reader is spotted with another costar, giving rise to rumours of romance.

The press tour came and went like a fever dream. From Paris to New York to London, everyone had been highly anticipating your upcoming show.

Albeit you had a minor role, it all seemed like everything you could ever wish for.

A blossoming career. Lifelong friends made from your peers. The overwhelming support from audiences.

Only two episodes have since been released to the public, and already your character has become a fan-favourite.

Sadly, you and Ewan only had that one press day together, after which you were paired with other cast members. That didn't stop the onslaught of comments under your interviews with him, fans stating how good you looked together. Speculating whether there was something going on between you two.

You are good friends, but that's all.

He calls you often, mostly in the evenings after you're both finished with work. He sticks close to you during premiere after-parties. Now and again, you would catch him looking at you from across the room.

But... well... that's all there is to that.

Maybe he's just being nice. Maybe he only sees you as a good friend, and this is just how he is. With his effortless charm and cheeky remarks that can be mistaken as flirting, you think that maybe you're reading too much into it all.

"Ewan likes you, you know," Phia looks at you over her shoulder, as she does her makeup in front of your dresser.

The cast is having a private get-together in Fabien's apartment for a night, and yourself and Phia decide to prep together, her own place only being five minutes away from yours.

"He's just being nice," you shake your head at her observation, as you sift through your closet looking for a top.

"He's not that nice to everyone," Phia laughs. "Trust me, that lad fancies you and it's plain as day. Ask anyone, I mean, Tom even pointed it out the other day."

"And Ewan was there with you guys?"

"Uh-huh," Phia swivels her chair around, all done, nodding at you, "Poor sod just about turned red as a beet."

"What did he say?" you ask, not even bothering to hide your curiosity. Phia's got your back, after all.

"Well..." Phia glanced away, weighing just how much she is at liberty to say. Ewan's her friend just as much as you are, and she doesn't know how deep she can meddle in this.

"How bad is it?"

"Nothing bad, promise," Phia walks over, then takes over the task of sorting through your closet, "He likes you. A lot. But it seems like he's apprehensive about jumping into a relationship right now."

You plop down on your bed in a huff, "I guess that makes sense."

"Chin up, darling," Phia turns around, arms folded behind her, concealing her chosen top for you. "You're both rising stars, with great careers ahead of you. If you're going to commit to each other, you're gonna have to do it right."

You smile, because you can't help it, the high from landing your dream career not yet subsiding.

"And," Phia continues, "even if he's too chicken to make a move, that doesn't mean you can't torture him with this." She grins, presenting a green satin top, the material weightless and shimmering.

"This? Are you sure?" It was definitely revealing, and it would have your back exposed, only tied together by two strings.

"Ewan loves green," she hands it to you, and you hold it up with concern etched in your features.

"I guess I could wear this," you mumble.

"Oh, you will wear it," Phia smirks, pushing you over to your bathroom so you can get changed.

Already wearing your trusty pair of bootcut jeans, you shimmy into the slinky top, calling out to Phia so she can assist with securing the strings at your back.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," she beams at you in your bathroom mirror. "Ewan is going to melt at the sight of you, doll."

"Huh," you say, checking yourself out in the reflection. "Okay then, I think we're ready - "

Your phone rings, cutting you off. Phia beats you to it, and her face is scandalous when she raises your phone up like it's precious evidence.

Ewan's name flashes bright on the screen.

"Oh, look who it is!" Phia practically sings, "Lover boy."

"Give me that," you demand, reaching for your phone, but Phia quickly sidesteps you and presses the screen to answer the call.

You gasp, and the both of you struggle to keep down an incoming fit of giggles. Phia then clicks on the speaker mode, and Ewan can be heard saying your name, his tone a bit confused.

"Are you there?" Ewan asks.

"Yeah, I'm here," you take the phone, waving to Phia so she doesn't make a fuss.

"Hmm," he says. "I hope I'll be seeing you tonight. The party won't be as good without you."

"Well, Phia and I just finished getting ready," you glance at her, and she makes a kissy face at you.

"Hello, Mr. Whipped," she playfully cuts in with this greeting, effectively letting Ewan know he's on speaker.

You hear Ewan snort on the other end, before he says, "Hello to you too, Phi."

"We should be heading out in 15 minutes, and we'll be there on time," you let him know.

"Okay, I suppose I'll see you guys there," he replies.

"Okay." A beat of silence passes, and Phia just shrugs at you.

"I, uh - " he finally speaks up again, but hesitates.

"Yeah?"

He clears his throat, having decided on saying, "Nevermind. See you soon, darling."

The line cuts off. You slowly let your hand fall to the side, sighing at how it abruptly ended. Shaking off your worries, you look at Phia once more, and she already has her line all prepared. "See you soon, darling," she recites in a low voice, imitating Ewan.

"Oh, shush," you shove her playfully, and she shoves you right back.

"I can't wait to see you, darling," she continues teasing you, laughing, and you can't help but blush and smile, finding her endearing.

"Well, let's go," she says, picking up her things, "your darling boy of Derby awaits."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Fabien greets you at the door with that perfect smile of his, arms outstretched to pull you and Phia into a hug.

"Welcome, welcome," he greets, leading you into his apartment, where most of the cast is already assembled, including Ewan.

You happily exchange pleasantries with everyone. Chatting with Emma and Olivia. Profusely thanking Matt when he gushes over your outfit. Catching up with Harry and Bethany. All the while sensing that Ewan watches you from somewhere in the room.

You're eventually directed by Tom to the corner table where Ewan and Phia share a loveseat, drinks in hand.

"I'll get you a drink," Tom kindly declares, heading to the kitchen.

"Thanks, Tom," you say. You sit next to Phia, leaving her between yourself and Ewan. You finally say to him, "Hey, you. How are you doing? Got here early?"

Ewan's jaw clenches and loosens, and you catch his eyes quickly drift down to rake over your figure. When he meets your eyes again, his pupils are considerably dilated.

The boy just shamelessly checked you out.

"Ewan," you hear Phia say, elbowing Ewan from beside him. "She just asked you a question, be polite." She wags her eyebrows at you, mouthing the words lover boy.

Ewan hears that, astute as he is, and it snaps him out of whatever haze he seemed to be stuck in.

He shakes his head at himself, offering a smile to you. "I got here just before you guys," he answers. His voice lowers when he adds, "You look really good, darling."

You smile in return. "Thanks. So do you."

Phia beams at the exchange, then makes some excuse of having to catch up with the others. The look she gives you before sliding off the seat reveals that she just wanted to give her two lovebirds some privacy.

"So," Ewan inches closer to you, his arm outstretched on the back of the seat, "how did the script turn out?"

"It was better than expected," you say. He refers to a script you told him about a week ago, for a potential project which will shoot in Atlanta in the fall. "I'm supposed to meet with the director pretty soon to discuss it further, but I think it might be the right fit."

"That's amazing," he expresses sincerely. "Rian Johnson's a brilliant director and they would be lucky to have you as their lead."

"Thanks, Ewan! Yeah, I'm really excited for it, it's a lot different from House of the Dragon, but I'm all in for the challenge, you know."

"Is it a drama film, or thriller, or - "

"Oh, it's a rom-com, actually."

"Oh," he nods, leaning back a little, like that needed a bit of processing. "And you'll have a romantic co-lead..."

"That's right, and - " you confirm.

He smirks, like he just thought of something amusing. "Well, maybe I could - "

But you finish your statement then, " - I think Jacob Elordi has just been selected as my partner in the film."

His face scrunches in apparent distaste, "Has he now?"

"Mhmm." You note the switches in his expression, how his face fell when you mentioned your upcoming co-star. He can't have something against Jacob; they already did a film together and it seemed like it went well on set.

That thing nags at you, that little spring of vanity and desire creating warmth in your stomach. That Ewan might be jealous.

Which is ridiculous, given your shared line of work. Besides, you were not together. What could he possibly be jealous over?

"You've worked with him, right? What's he like?" you continue the topic, keeping watch for the minutiae of his reactions.

"He's... he's a good actor, I guess. Dedicated and all that. Pleasant on set." His answer is curt, not giving away any details, tone flat like he's disinterested.

"Riiight," you nod slowly, smiling impishly at him to get him to lighten up, "I'm sure he'll be just as pleasant on our set then. Good to know."

He catches the look you're giving him, causing the corner of his lips to pull in a soft crooked smile. "Hmm, be that as it may... I think I'll do a much better job as your love interest, don't you?"

"Oh, will you now?" you lean forward, and he does the same.

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" he whispers conspiratorially, like there's a secret to be shared. "According to the internet, we have a lot of chemistry. Practically oozing with it, based on some comments I read."

"You've been lurking on comments? You? The last crusader against all social media?" you joke, fully knowing that he keeps a few shadow accounts just to keep up with how his work is being received by the public.

"Sure," he shrugs his shouders dramatically, " that, and also to stalk your page, of course."

"Oh, of course," you quip, "I wouldn't expect anything less."

You share another laugh, feeling light all over, and even lighter when his fingertips brush against your arm for a few seconds. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you sneakily rub your arms to cover the effect he had on you.

Tom reappears from the side, handing you a drink as promised, "What are you kids giggling about over here?"

"Nothing," you share, "just that Ewan is planning to join Instagram."

"A damn miracle, that!" Tom exclaims, lightly punching Ewan in the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Ewan looks at you warmly, playing along, "you can be in charge of keeping my account running."

"Tough job. All those fan messages I'll have to answer."

"Yeah, you'll have to quit your day job," Tom adds jokingly. "It was fun while it lasted. The industry will miss you."

You feel a pressure by your shoulders, and notice that it's Ewan's arm snug behind you on the seat. In the midst of conversation, he must have drawn even closer. You glance down briefly and see his knees touching yours.

You nervously take a huge gulp of your drink. There is no hiding the effect he has on you now.

"Don't you two look cute?" Tom comments, then he stands right in front of the loveseat and puts his phone up. Before you can say anything, a clicking sound makes it clear that he has taken a photo of you and Ewan.

"Awww, I ship it," Tom gushes afterward as he looks at the photo. He then reaches over and passes his phone to you.

The image betrays what the both of you are probably struggling to hide - it's there, clear as day. The attraction, the tension, the chemistry. Ewan practically has his arm around you, looking at you intensely with the inscrutable spark in his eyes. His teeth lightly clamping down on his lip in desire.

There's a subtle scrunch between your eyebrows as you return Ewan's look, a result of trying to maintain composure when he is so close. But your posture is relaxed, almost cozying right up against him, showing just how comfortable you feel around him.

As Tom just said, you ship it.

If only.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Two weeks after the party at Fabien's, the main cast members of House of the Dragon are engaged in an additional round of promo work. Season two is at its peak, and the media is just clamoring to get more from the cast.

Some are booked for photoshoots, others for interviews.

While a minor character in the show, they also wanted you to take part in engaging with the press, but you are already busy with your upcoming film with Jacob. You're currently out in LA, doing rehearsals in preparation for the actual shoot.

Ewan is yet again lounging in a hotel suite, about to do an interview with Vanity Fair.

He sends you a text, in response to your complaint about a difficult scene.

You had shared, It's a pretty dramatic scene. What if I can't cry on command?

He easily texts back, You can do it, darling. Trust me, you're one of the most talented young actors I know.

- Thanks, Ewan. Good luck with your interview!

- Thank you, good luck with rehearsal. I miss --

Ewan pauses typing. I miss you, he aches to send. He does miss you so much. Why can't he just commit to it?

He ends up sending, I'll see you soon, in its place.

He knows he wants to do everything with you. Take you out on dates. Sweep you off your feet. Travel to wherever you will be filming just to see you. Confess how much he wants you.

Why can't he? It's terrifying to him, being with someone, in danger of falling in love - truly falling in love - with a fellow actor, and that relationship exposed to much public scrutiny.

He's always been a private person, so will he be able to handle all of that? Acting is his first love, and he's devoted to the craft. If he succumbs to his desire for you, will that cause him to go off track?

What if the relationship is not well-received? He is aware of how passionate fans can be. What if they cruelly decide to make you the object of their ire as a result? He can't possibly put you through that.

But... but fuck it.

The Aemond in him turns proud and defiant. Why can't he? Why shouldn't he?

He types another message in a second, then clicks send.

And I miss you.

His publicist walks over to him, giving him a few last-minute instructions. In a few minutes, the room is all composed and the interview is ready to begin.

The line of questioning has almost become routine-like for him, a far cry from when he first started giving shorter interviews for previous projects.

The answers flow from him smoothly, stemming from his care for Aemond and the show.

Near the end of the interview, he is asked about the remaining normalcy of his life. Surely it has all changed ever since he landed the show?

"Well, I try to go back to my hometown as much as possible. Just, you know, spending time where I grew up really helps maintain a sense of normal, for me," he responds. "It keeps my feet planted on the ground, that is, when I'm not on dragonback flying high up in the clouds."

The interviewer promptly laughs at his last remark, then asks, "What's next for you? Your fans are just eagerly awaiting your next project. Maybe a film like your new costar? Everyone is excited for her film with Jacob Elordi."

Ewan can't hide the way he perks up at the mention of you, never mind how Jacob is included too. "Ah, yes, well there are some things down the line for me. More than anything, I want to choose a project that I am passionate about, with a story and a character that is rich and complex. Whichever that is, I guess you'll find out soon!"

"Yes, yes, we will!"

"And about her project, I mean, I'm just so proud of her. We've become really close and I think she's a fantastic actress and person. She's going to smash it in this film, that's for sure."

The interviewer nods enthusiastically, smirking as he adds, "Apparently a bit of romance on the cards for her as well!"

"You mean in the movie?" Ewan replies, half-smiling in confusion. But he spies his publicist gesturing to the interviewer from behind the camera, a signal that private affairs are off-limits.

After a final question, the interview wraps up.

His publicist grumbles to him afterward, as they prepare to leave the room. "It was clear that no private questions are allowed. Sorry about that, Ewan."

"It's alright, that was... well, what was he on about? Did he mean romance between the two of us?"

"I believe he's talking about Jacob and her. They were spotted out in LA today. The interviewer probably just wanted you to spill some dirt on your costar."

Ewan frowns, "What do mean they were spotted?"

His publicist appears surprised at his question, and his obvious interest. "They've been papped walking arm in arm in LA. Seemed pretty close, not that it's any of that interviewer's business."

As they walk out of the hotel, Ewan can't help but do an immediate Google search of your name, and sure enough, the headlines about your walk with Jacob are abound.

He can't pinpoint how he feels as he sees the photos, the statuesque Jacob with his arm around you as you beam up at him. He notices that his grip on his phone has tightened, so he turns it off quickly and shoves it in his pocket.

Whatever this is, and how it makes him feel, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit.

His phone vibrates from his pocket, but he ignores it.

So he doesn't yet see your reply.

I miss you too.

💌 next chapter

Ewaaaan! Make a move, my guy!

As much as we'd like to see them make declarations of love or get into the passion quick, I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. How would two young actors begin dating? Reader, kudos to you for keeping it cool as a cucumber thus far - it's up to Ewan to make the big move.

Part three may be the last. What'll they be? Just friends? PR relationship? Notorious fling? Or new celebrity power couple?

MASSIVE thanks for all the lovely feedback for part one! 💙

Update: if you wish to be tagged in part three, let me know in the comments 💌

[leighsartworks216]

Kiss-Proof

Sylus x implied fem!Reader

Inspired by this fic by @peachlynnie

Also inspired by an Archie comic lol

Warnings: fluff, kissing, established relationship, lipstick, implied sexual content at the end

Word Count: 948

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (fill this out to be tagged in future fics)

How he got roped into this situation, he has no idea. Not that he's complaining. What could be better than his partner straddling his lap, kissing him over and over again?

You plant a kiss at a bare spot on his cheek without ceremony. You pull away, hopeful, only to deflate when the vibrant imprint of your lips are left behind. "Ugh, this one transfers, too." The tube of lipstick is tossed off to the side with the other failures.

Sylus grabs the makeup wipe from the previous attempts (almost completely covered in various shades of pink and red). His hand holds your jaw warmly, thumb on your chin, as his other thumb brushes the wipe over your lips.

He could suggest taking you shopping to the high end stores that would most certainly have lipstick proven not to smudge or transfer, but then you'd have to get up and stop testing it. His lips still have some red staining them, and his cheeks, neck and forehead are almost completely covered. He'd hate to stop now.

"How many more do you have to test?" he asks.

You shift in his lap, forcing him to stop his ministrations in favor of holding your hip to support you. You grab another lipstick tube from a pile andshift the remaining ones around. "Like, five more? At least one of these has to work."

He shifts his legs, settling you back into place, and draws your attention back to him so he can wipe away the last smidge of tint at the corners of your mouth. "If none of these work, I'll buy you some more," he promises. He nods slightly as he sets the wipe aside. "Go ahead, try this one."

You use a little compact mirror to help you get the shade on right. It's a warm red, bloody and tempting. It’s the same shade as his eyes after a couple glasses of Gin Fizz, when he looks at you with unbridled affection, enhanced with his slight intoxication.

Sylus would be the first to admit how much he loves watching this. He loves the comfort you have to propose this silly idea, to crawl into his lap with a bag of lipsticks and makeup wipes and the intensity of an executive making a pitch to a board room. He loves getting to watch the concentration on your face as you glide the applicator over your top lip, following the natural line to ensure it's perfect. Loves the mild frustration when you mess up the corner. Loves that you trust him to fix it with the wipe wrapped over his thumb nail. Loves the quiet thanks you mutter before you get back to work.

Fully applied, you hum impatiently as you turn the tube over to read the directions. "'Wait two minutes.' Damn."

"The best results take time," Sylus teases.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. "Fine. What should we talk about for two minutes?"

He hums as he taps a finger on your hip. "I don't think I ever asked: Why are you so eager to find a lipstick that doesn't transfer?"

"Well," you wipe your thumb along his lip, dragging the lingering color with it, "it's embarrassing to drink from a glass and leave a big smudge behind."

He chuckles. "That's what's got you so worried, sweetie?"

You trace the rouge up to his prominent cupid's bow. "Mm, not completely." You wonder what he'd look like with lipstick on him properly. You're sure he'd look amazing. Hell, even like this, covered with all your kisses, he looks good. You're damn near convinced he can pull any look off.

He squeezes your sides. "Tell me," he implores, voice soft and tender.

You sigh. "When we go to auctions, I feel like I can't kiss you," you admit quietly. "Everyone there is so... imposing. I don't want to, well, do this to you," you gesture at all the lipstick stains, "and ruin your reputation."

"Sweetie." He cups your cheek in his large hand. It holds you perfectly, always. You lean into it without a second thought. He smiles. "My reputation isn't that fragile. Besides..."

His voice gets lower as he draws you in. You could get high on the way his eyes flicker to your mouth. His nose brushes yours, hot breath shared in the centimeters of space left between you.

"How else will they know who I belong to?"

Your breath hitches. His mouth is on yours, seeking, claiming, drawing you deeper into him. You feel the creamy texture of smudged lipstick as you hold his face, slide your fingers along his neck into his hair. It streaks along his perfect skin.

His tongue licks the seam of your lips, begs for entrance. You tug at his hair as you let him in. He groans into your mouth, sighs a wanton rendition of your name. Your shirt slips up your waist as he dives a hand below the fabric to press against your bare skin.

You pull away sharply. "The lipstick!"

His eyes look murderous for being disturbed, by you of all people. Still, he contains himself enough not to dive right back in. Just barely. What he can’t contain is the furrow in his brow and the frown he wears.

You ignore the smudges of color on his skin, matching stains on your hands, as you tilt his head up to better look at his lips. They're still stained with that light red from before, but-

"Sy! It worked! This one didn't smudge!"

"Perfect." He pulls you roughly back down to him, biting your colored lip before licking it sinfully. "Let's take it for a test run, shall we?"

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Ok, I don't really post here, but there's a Merlin AU idea that's been rattling around in my skull like it's a pinball machine and I need to get it out, so here we go:

Imagine an AU where Balinor doesn't die and banishes Kilgarrah before sneaking away so Uther doesn't catch him and can't put his newfound son in danger. Of course, both he and Merlin are heartbroken about having to be separated again after just finding each other, but they work out a way to keep in touch and occasionally meet in secret.

And this is all well and good, and everything in the show just kinda proceeds as normal up until about season 4, where we have the knights of the round table well-established in Camelot.

It'd make sense that after a few years of travelling around with Kilgarrah, Balinor would be pretty well-known and well-feared throughout all the five kingdoms as "that dragonlord who escaped the purge and now travels around on the back of a giant dragon", and people all over Albion are kinda terrified of the guy.

Rumors say that he never smiles, that he can kill a man in a split second without even utterring a spell, and can decimate kingdoms with the dragon under his total command. That makes for a formidable figure!

And then one day, Balinor is trying to sneak into Camelot to visit his son (he heard Merlin got hit by a dorocha and wants to make sure he's ok!), and the knights see him and freak out because holy shit that's one of the deadliest guys in Albion!

They're in a tense standoff, with Balinor threatening to call down the dragon on them if they don't let him through. The knights are all ready to give their lives to at least buy the people in the castle time to evacuate, when suddenly Merlin and Arthur make it to the standoff. Arthur immediately starts strategizing with his knights on how they're going to negociate with the sorcerer in an attempt to make sure that they aren't all slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Merlin just laughs and pushes through the rows of knights blocking Balinor's path to the castle. The knights, being very fond of Merlin and not wanting to see their kind little friend be brutally murdered by one of the most terrifying men in exsistence, are trying to grab Merlin and pull him back to safety or shouting at him to get back, but Merlin manages to avoid them as he walks up to Balinor.

For a horrifying moment, the knights and Arthur think that Merlin is about to sacrifice himself for them, but Merlin breaks into a huge grin, yells "Dad!", and runs right into Balinor's arms.

(Merlin and Balinor reason that now that Arthur's king, they might as well start easing him into some of Merlin's less shocking secrets)

And even more shockingly to the knights, Balinor hugs him back, asking Merlin all about how he's been doing, how are his studies under Gaius, etc etc.

And all of the knights just bluescreen. Because the math isn't mathing on this one. Hunith + Balinor = MERLIN?! Does not compute.

They're all pondering how could someone as joyful, friendly, and kind as Merlin be the spawn of a terrifying man like Balinor?? They just cannot comprehend it. The manservant who they all know and love came from this sorcerer who's name is synonymous with the threat of death and destruction??

They're all jolted back to reality however when Balinor asks Merlin if he wants to come back to Balinor's newly-renovated stronghold in the mountains (that's only accessable by riding a dragon) to learn more about one day becoming a dragonlord. And suddenly, the knight understand why Balinor's here. He wants to kidnap Merlin from them and twist him into a terrifying sorcerer to carry on Balinor's legacy!

It all basically dissolves into a long game of high-stakes tug-of-war between Balinor and the knights + Arthur, and Merlin's just enjoying spending time with his father and his friends.

Balinor will just casually crash one of their quests while riding Kilgarrah and "kidnap" Merlin while the knights fight to keep Merlin with them.

Balinor eventually gives Merlin Aithusa so he can get practice raising dragons, and the knights see it as some evil scheme to make Merlin betray Camelot and attack it from within, but damn it Merlin's already adopted the damn thing so now they're stuck with a baby dragon.

IDK if I'd ever write a fic about it since I'm pretty busy writing another fic rn, but I thought that it was a funny idea to throw out there!

PS: if anyone wants to read my current project, where I'm giving Sir Leon more anxiety with each chapter after a kinda-botched magic reveal on Merlin's part (and Merlin may or may not be an eldritch god), feel free to check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54027337/chapters/136771564

Thank you all for sticking with my incoherent rambling! :D I hope you have a great day/night!

Also, please let me know if you guys wants to hear more of the ideas that pinball around in my head!

[lucidfairies]

you-know-who [a.a]

pairing: dad's business partner abby anderson x f!reader

summary: abby has been your dad's loyal business partner for quite some time, and she's totally off limits, but that doesn't stop her from appearing in your wet dreams every night. tonight they just happened to come true.

warnings: mdni 18+, dom!abby, sub!reader, virgin!reader, experienced!abby, fingering [r] face riding [r], strap usage [r], strap referred to as cock, pet names, praise, bondage, age gap, slight overstim, breeding kink brrrr

word count: 3.7k

Your dad is good at a lot of things. He's good at business, making deals, and negotiating. But being a dad? Not so much. Sure, you got to go to banquets and beautiful galas, but it wasn't worth the expense of no father figure. The worst part of it all is when he pretends to be present but, in reality, knows nothing about you.

Your best friend, Dina, sat on the end of the bed while you rummaged through your wardrobe, trying to find something nice to wear. "It's just dinner." She said lazily, not looking up from her phone. "Why don't you wear that blue dress with the slit? You look really good in that one." You groaned, turning to face her.

"I wore that one last time, remember? I can't wear it twice in a row. Plus, this is a really big brand deal for my dad. I need to look my absolute best." You continued to contemplate dresses until you finally decided on one. It was black, with a square neckline that always made your cleavage look phenomenal. It hardly came to the middle of your thigh, but sitting at a dinner table, you were sure no one would notice.

"Is you-know-who gonna be there?" Dina asked, setting her phone down as she was suddenly intrigued. She smirked as your face reddened a little.

"Yes, she's going to be there. Gotta look my best. Tonight could be the night." I winked at her.

One good thing about having a dad who's a multi-million dollar CEO is that he tends to have the finest employees of all time working for him - especially Abigail Anderson. You and Dina have a running joke that sometimes you and Abby will hook up because she always eyes you the same way you do her.

Tonight definitely wasn't going to be the night for a multitude of reasons. First, she's 33, and you're 21, which basically throws you out of the competition. Second, your dad was going to be home tonight, which meant you were home tonight. Dina promised that she could cover for you, but you've never taken her up on that opportunity. And last but certainly not least, if your father found out you slept around with his right-hand woman, you would probably be disowned, and she would probably get beheaded.

You held your head high, though, as you began to do your makeup and curl your hair. Once you finished, you slipped the dress over your head and zipped it up with assistance from Dina. "You know, if you throw on and dress and do your makeup, you could come with me. My dad probably wouldn't notice."

"Nah, I'll leave you and your soon to be wife alone for the night. Have fun, baby girl." She kissed your cheek and started collecting her things. You walked her down to the front door, bid her a good bye, then shut the door.

Mere minutes later, a black car pulled up outside the door, and you knew that meant it was time to go. You grabbed a black handbag and heels, then rushed out the door.

When you arrived, you took note of the fact that all of your dad's colleagues' cars were parked together, and there was Abby's black Porsche, looking sleek as ever. You grinned, then remembered where you were and dropped your face back into a neutral position.

As you walked toward their private room, you spotted your father and approached him. "Hey sweetheart," you hugged awkwardly, "grab a seat. We're waiting on five more people." You smiled and nodded, entering the room and analyzing it. There was Abby, with a glorious open seat next to her. You claimed it, placing your handbag on the floor and your napkin in your lap.

Abby looked at you briefly, smirking when you met her eye. She knew she looked hot. You knew it, too. She made a basic white button-down, and gray slacks look so good. You could hardly imagine what she'd look like naked. All that muscle, the veins that popped from her arm. She was a walking wet dream if you'd ever seen one.

"You look good tonight," she whispered, and even over the commotion of the table, you could hear her. "Maybe even better than last time."

"Likewise, Ms. Anderson." You complimented, using the sluttiest voice you could muster. Her cheeks got red and she turned away, jumping into a conversation with the table of people. Your eyes jumped from her sharp jaw to her full lips, thinking about how good she would look between your legs.

This happens every time.

But tonight – tonight was different. Tonight, you decided that you were going to do something about it. I mean, the worst she could do is turn you down, right? You stood, brushing your hand against her thigh as you excused yourself to the bathroom. Once there, you fixed your makeup and pulled your dress down and little at the top, just to make your tits look better.

You left the bathroom, putting a hand on her shoulder as you stepped into and took your seat. "Ms. Anderson," you asked, getting her attention. She immediately looked over to you, eyes dropping to the top of your dress before quickly snapping back up. "Could you pass the water?"

"Yes ma'am," her voice was low and her eyes were dark. She grabbed the pitcher and refilled your glass for you, smiling as she placed it on the table.

Your dad asked you a question about something, but all you could think about was Abby's hand, which was now curiously dragging along your thigh. Your breath hitched, but you played it off with a cough and continued talking.

Suddenly her large, warm hand was under your dress, tracing circles on the inside of your thigh. Your conversation with you dad had come to an end at this point, thank God, because you were seconds away whining and begging her to continue.

Once she was sure that your pussy was aching, she pulled her hand away and cut into her food, taking a bite. Your head was a little dizzy, and you tried to comprehend if that actually happened or not. You needed some way of making this go further. If you went to the bathroom again it would look suspicious, but it seemed like the best plan right now.

"You're going to follow me." You said to her, standing up and walking out of the room. You went into the single bathroom, waiting patiently. Two minutes passed and you got slightly irritated, considering going back. But the door opened, and there was Abby's brooding figure.

"What are you doing, y/n?" She asked, leaning against the bathroom wall. "'Cause it seems a lot like you're trying to get my attention." Your mind was blank. Why did you think this was a good idea? "Do you want my attention, sweetheart?" Abby took a step forward, causing your ass to press gently against the bathroom sink.

"Yes, Ms. Anderson." You ran a hand down her chest and abs, feeling them contrast under your hand. "I want you." You pulled her further into you by her waist, so that her thigh was slotted between your legs.

"Here's what we're gonna do, sugar," she dipped her head so that her hot breath hit your neck, "You're gonna come to my house after dinner in this dress," she kissed your neck lightly, "and I'm gonna fuck you until you know no name but mine." You practically whimpered under her touch. "Yes?"

"Yes." Abby backed up, fixed her shirt, then left the bathroom. You followed minutes later, taking your seat next to her.

The dinner droned on and on, to the point that you wanted to just get up and walk out with Abby on your hip. But you didn't. You suffered through having to listen to brand deals while also thinking about the ache between your legs and everything she's going to do to you.

You wanted her to tie you to her headboard and fuck you with her strap until you came three times, maybe spank you. You wanted her to do bad things to you ‐ but the worst part was that you hadn't actually done anything before.

Finally, finally, your dad closed the deal and the dinner began to come to an end. You shot up, grabbed your bag and rushed to your father. "I'm sleeping at Dina's tonight," you told him. He kissed your head and whisked you away, too high on the feeling of making a new deal that he didn't have time to pay attention to you. "Take me to Abby Anderson's house." You told the driver, who nodded and pulled out of the lot.

You got there before her, awkwardly, and stood outside. She arrived 5 minutes after you, striding toward you with an absolute purpose. "Someone's eager." She said, smirking. She let you in and you sat your bag down, then kicked off your heels. You were so much shorter than her without your heels, and it was oddly hot. "Can I get you anything?" She knew you wanted to fuck, and you weren't having it.

You grabbed her and kissed her roughly, groaning when she grabbed your waist and pinned you to the counter. Her warm tongue breached your lips and massaged yours, with nothing sweet about it. She grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the island. "I'm so much older than you baby," She mumbled into your neck. "We probably shouldn't do this."

"It turns me on, Ms. Anderson." You moaned as her teeth came into contact with your favorite spot on your neck. You ground your hips into the air, looking for anything with friction.

"Oh, you want me so bad, princess." She mocked, cupping your cunt. You cried out, grinding into her palm. "Have you ever been with a woman?" She asked, grabbing your hips to grind them against her palm.

"N-no one," you whimpered, "I've never been with anyone." You expected her to remove her hand and tell you to leave, that she wouldn't do it, but she didn't. She swiftly lifted you off the island and placed you on the floor.

"I'm gonna ruin you, baby. Now follow me." You took her hand as she led you up the steps and down the hall to her bedroom, where she locked the door. "Take your dress off and lay down." You did as she said, but she disappeared into a room off of her bedroom. You heard the water running while you laid down, and she came back out moments later.

Her hands were washed and she had a strap in one of them that she sat down on the nightstand. She shed her shoes and buttoned down, tossing them in a pile with your dress, then climbed over you. She pushed your knees up around her hips and began kissing your neck lightly. "How many times do you wanna come tonight, honey?"

"Um.." you were practically braindead by that question. "One?" That's all you needed. Not like you had ever done this before. She groaned softly.

"How's three?" You gasped, rolling your hips into hers. "Three’s good then, sugar?" You nodded quickly, running your hands down her torso. She reached behind you and unclasped your bra, pulling it off and tossing it somewhere. You whined as the cold air of her room hit your nipples. Everything suddenly became very real, and it finally clicked that you were laying half naked in your dad's partner's bed while she kneaded your tits and took them in her mouth.

"Oh Abby," you moaned as she bit gently on your nipple. Your head fell back, and you grabbed at her hair to keep her going.

Abby almost came in her boxers after hearing you moan her name. She had wanted this since the day she met you, but never made a move. Her cunt was throbbing, and she was just about ready to hump her bed like she was some kind of high schooler giving head for the first time.

Abby ran her thumb down your pussy over your underwear, moaning at the way you squirmed under her. She ran her finger over your heat again, flicking your clit gently this time.

There was slick surely running down your thighs, but you couldn't focus on that. The thought of making a mess in Abby's bed sounded amazing to you, though.

She kept going with that motion, stopping if you squirmed too much. "Abby.. fuck, I-I need it, please." You begged as she circled your clit rather roughly.

"Need what, princess?" You wanted to pretend like you were sick of the teasing, but you weren't. You liked how desperate she was making you, you wanted to beg for her to touch you. You wanted her to praise you for everything that you did right.

"Need you," you groaned.

"Atta girl," she kissed your thigh as she started dragging your underwear off. "You're doing so well, baby." Her eyes went wide as she realized actually how wet you were, basking in the idea that it was all for her.

Abby started sucking a hickey into your thigh as you whined under her, grabbing at her braid. "Abby," you pulled her up. "Take out your braid." She did as told, pulling the ponytail out and putting it around your wrist. She looked impossibly better with her blonde hair down.

After many more moments of teasing, she finally licked a strip up your cunt, making you throw your head back and groan. She sucked and flicked your clit, finding a perfect rhythm that you loved. It didn't take long for your stomach to tighten, but when she slowly pushed her middle finger into you, you knew you were gone.

She pumped it lightly, making sure you could take it, before adding her ring finger. She curled them, hitting something that was too much, but felt so good at the same time. "T-too much, Abby," I moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to squirm away from her fingers. She didn't stop, though, with every pump of her fingers she hit that spot, making your head spin. "Abs, ah, I'm gonna- fuck,"

"That's it, baby. Cum on my fingers." Your back arched off the bed, and your vision went white as you did as told, coming on her fingers. It felt like hours of her coaxing you through it, but in reality it had only been a couple seconds. "You did so well, princess."

You were sure you looked blatantly unattractive, covered in sweat with your hair all messed up, but Abby was looking at you like you were the only woman in the world. Like she wanted to fuck the everlasting shit out of you.

Abby, on the other hand, looked phenomenal. You wanted to take a picture of her right now and keep it forever. Make it your wallpaper, print it, fuck yourself to it. Her hair was frizzy from you yanking on it, her eyes were dark. But probably the hottest thing was the spit that was covering her chin, and it was obviously from you, which made everything so much better.

She wiped her face on the back of her hand, then laid next to you. "I want you to ride my face, pretty girl." You sat up on your knees, looking at her with wide eyes.

"But.." you wanted to, you truly did. But you knew nothing about how to do it. "What if I suffocate you?" She shrugged.

"Worth it." She sat up, tugging you forward by your hips until you were sitting in her lap. "It's easy. You won't even have to do anything but sit. I'll do the rest." She smirked as you pushed up, moving towards her face until your cunt was right over her mouth. You were suddenly conscious of everything, wondering if she would be weirded out with anything you had going on, even though she already ate you out once.

She grabbed your hips and pulled you down, making you squeak a little. You could've sworn the world stopped when she started moving her tongue. The angle was better than when you were laying down, and you could watch her. You reached down and grabbed her hair, forcing her head up. You were moaning louder than you had ever, head back with your eyes squeezed shut.

Abby was sure she was going to pass out. Not from lack of air, but from the fact that she had an absolutely gorgeous girl on her face, whining her name and begging for her to continue everything she was doing.

Abby moved one of her hands from your hip to her belt, unclipping it single handedly, and unzipping her pants. She was going to wait, rub one off after you had already left, but she couldn't anymore. She teased herself briefly before slipping two of her fingers between her folds, bucking up into her hand.

She was moaning into your pussy, using one of her hands to rub your clit. You wished she could talk because you loved her praise, but if this is what you got in return for not talking, you were fine with it.

"I'm gonna cum, baby," you ground your hips into her face as your stomach came undone and you came for the second time. You were so exhausted, so ready to curl up in her arms and go to sleep, but at the same time, you wanted to keep going, wanted to see what she'd do to you.

She tapped your thigh a few times and you wobbled up, falling into the bed next to her. "I'm tired," You tell her, fingers tracing circles on her chest. "But I want you to tie me up." You looked up at her, putting on an innocent expression, even though your thoughts were absolutely not innocent.

Abby's eyes widened. She hasn't tied someone up since she was like 20, but she was trying to take into account that you were young and still trying to figure out what you were into. And, I mean, tying you up definitely wasn't the worst thing someone could ask for.

So she did. With rope. You loved the way it felt around your wrists, loved the way you were bound to her headboard.

Abby slid her pants off, leaving her boxers and sports bra, which both fit her phenomenally. Your stomach flipped as she grabbed the strap from her nightstand and slipped it up to her hips. She came back over you, sitting up on her knees briefly while she pushed one of your legs up so that it was pressed against your chest.

She looked up at you and you gave her a nod. She gently ran the tip of the strap across your clit and down your folds, making you shiver. “Hurry up, Abs.” You groaned, pushing your hips into the air, trying to take her.

“Patience, darling.” She pushed the tip of her strap into your cunt, and the intrusion burned a little. It was as if your body wanted to push it out and keep it in at the same time. Once you could handle that, she pushed another inch in, waiting for your okay. She went inch by inch until her cock was bottomed out, all of it stretching you open and making you feel amazing.

Abby groaned, head lolling back as the strap pressed perfectly onto her clit. She pushed your other leg up to your chest, holding it softly as she started moving, pulling out just a little before thrusting back in. She wanted to go slow for you, gentle, but she could barely stop herself from fucking into you as hard and fast as she could.

The more comfortable you got, the less easy it was to contain herself. She moved faster, watching your eyes squeeze shut as you moaned. You liked her being rough, you loved how her cock rubbed against your little bundle of nerves every time she fucked into you, everything about it.

"Gonna put a baby in you, sugar," she groaned into your neck as her head fell. "What would your daddy think of that, hm?" Your moans filled the room and the headboard slamming against the wall filled the thick air of the room.

She pushed your legs apart, pressing herself farther onto you as she started sucking hickeys into your neck. She knew she was close, but she wanted to finish with you, so she held it back for as long as she could. That didn’t work very well - she came moments later, moaning into your neck as her thrusts got sloppy. You hardly noticed, too caught up with your own satisfaction.

She kept going, every roll of her hips bring both you and herself closer to your peaks. Again. Your stomach tightened and you threw your head back, screaming her name as you came around her cock. She practically collapsed on top of you as her orgasm hit her hard and fast.

She laid on you for a second before pulling out and rolling off, taking the strap off and tossing it off the bed. “Was that everything you wanted it to be, pretty girl?” She asked, still panting as she wiped a thin layer of sweat off of her forehead.

“Even better.” You said, throwing your arm over your arms. “What do we do now?” You asked lazily, praying to god that she wouldn’t kick you out. That would be extremely embarrassing.

“All you have to do is lay there and look pretty, hun.” She purred. She could make you wet again just from her words, even though you had absolutely nothing left in you. The bed shifted as she got up, walking into the bathroom. The water ran and you sat up, watching as she came back with a cloth hand towel.

Wordlessly, she grabbed your legs and spread them, wiping you off everywhere. You hummed as the warm water washed everything off of you, relaxing into her touch. She massaged your legs and even went as far as giving you a pair of boxers and a t-shirt so that you could sleep over. “Do you do this for all the girls you have over?” You asked. Your back was pressed to her front, her arm thrown over your waist.

“Nah,” she kissed your neck. “Only you, baby. Only you.”

a/n: thanks for reading <333 requests are open

[apartmentsmoke]

Evan tells Tommy that he's babysitting Jee, but he still really wants to spend time with Tommy, if Tommy doesn't mind - and Tommy accepts. Jee's part of Evan's family, and Howie's family, and how bad can hanging out with a three-year-old - almost four, he is told by her in the car - be anyway? What he's expecting is a night on the couch watching Frozen. (Kids still like that, right?) Maybe tea parties. What he does not expect is that Evan already has an outing planned to Chuck-E-Cheese. Surprise - Chuck-E-Cheese still exists. He would've sworn they went bankrupt back in 2020.

He's not sure what Jee is going to think of him, but she remembers him from the hospital as "Uncle Buck's dirty friend" and accepts his presence easily enough. She keeps her hand in Evan's as they walk into Chuck-E-Cheese. It's one of the cutest things Tommy's ever seen. There's a thousand kids around, laughing and crying and shouting. He only has to focus on one, he tells himself, and lets Jee lead him and Evan through the maze of games. She stops at a claw machine and demands that her Uncle Buck win her a rabbit toy. After ten minutes, fifteen dollars, and Tommy tagging in, they finally succeed. The next two hours are filled with more exploitative games, the greasiest fucking pizza Tommy's ever had, and Jee spending five minutes deliberating between two similarly-colored bouncy balls to exchange for her tickets. Throughout it all, Evan's patience never wavers, even when they lose Jee for five minutes in the crowd and have to search for her. She's hiding under the air hockey table.

Tommy's doing his best to keep up. He's led all over the place, recruited to help with games, and tries to make sense of Jee's non-sequiturs. While they're standing in line for the bouncy ball, Evan nudges him. There's a big smile on his face. "I know this isn't an ideal date. Thanks for being here." "Of course," Tommy says, and he nudges Evan back. "I like getting to know your family, Evan." It's not what he expected, but seeing first-hand how full of love Evan's family is, how much love he has for them - he wouldn't trade it. Not even for the bluest bouncy ball. Evan's smile grows even wider. They're almost out the door when Jee spots a photo booth and hones in. "I wanna photo," she says, tugging at Evan's hand, and Tommy dutifully follows along. He'll - wait out here, he guesses, while Evan and Jee take their photo. They wouldn't all fit, anyway. It's a little awkward, hanging around the photo booth, but it's fine. They disappear behind the curtain for a moment and Tommy can hear Jee's high, insistent voice and Evan chuckling and responding, though he can't make out the words. Jee and Evan poke their heads out a second later. "You too!" Jee says, and Evan echoes her with a grin. "Yeah, you too. Get in here." They quickly learn there is no way the photo booth is going to fit them all. Tommy fits maybe a third of his body in. Evan frowns, then lights up again. "Hey, Jee, why don't we get out for a second? Then Tommy can sit down and I can sit on his lap and you can sit on my lap. Okay?" "Okay," she says, so Tommy squeezes in, and a second later Evan plops all two hundred pounds of himself and thirty pounds of Jee onto his lap.

"Evan," he hisses, and Evan grins at him, unrepentant. "Smile for the camera, Tommy," he says, and Tommy finds that his smile comes easily, especially when Evan turns to kiss his cheek on the last photo. After they scrabble out of the photo booth, Evan looks down at the strip of photos and their wide, grinning faces. "Oh, yeah. That's going on the fridge for sure." "For sure," Jee repeats for emphasis, and looks up at Tommy expectantly. "For sure," he says, and he's met with twin smiles.

[this fic has matching art by @aringofsalt! it's adorable and you should definitely go take a look]