#this was very well overdue but hope you guys enjoy !!!

[bunnies-and-blues]

Hi~ your post on study session headcanons was so relatable for me, because I’m preparing for exams right now! Wish Kogure-sempai could keep me company while I revise… Sigh

Would you do headcanons for Mitsui, Rukawa, Kogure, and how they’d make up with their s/o after an fight?

Thank you so much! Keep up the good work!

─꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱─ slam dunk : kiss & make up ☆

⸝⸝ tl;dr : fights are always the worst thing to have with your partner. work features mitsui, rukawa, kogure, and you !

⸝⸝ note : not really hurt/comfort, but more so just the comfort after talking it out with the sd boys ! and thank u sm, peach, wishing you the best on exams ! (even though its vv late) =DD

you don't even remember what you fought about . was it a conflict on schedules ? were you being too clingy ? or lack thereof ? whatever it was, it felt awful .

mitsui hisashi . . .

look, i love the guy, but he's not the best at communication

chances are, he'll be giving you the cold shoulder for a couple of days, even though his heart yearns for your presence and his eyes automatically search for your name whenever his phone lights up with a notification

i feel like he'd be a bit prideful, not replying for hours on end and giving you terse replies whenever you speak — like i said, awful communication skills !!

secretly though, he'd be asking his friends for advice — kogure, specifically. and to some extent akagi as well; he knows that both of them are level-headed enough to hear both yours and his side of the story.

eventually, he breaks ; he misses being around you : (

mitsui stops you just as you were about to leave the room. it was late afternoon, the sun's rays slanting through the classroom windows. dust motes swirl lazily in the light as mitsui steps towards you once, twice, three times, until eventually you two are facing each other. his eyes are downcast, his feet shuffling on the worn wooden floors. "look, i - uh -" he starts, and he curses. why the hell can't he talk ? even when you're not doing anything, you can still render him speechless. he stops, takes a deep breath, starts again. "i just wanted to say that i'm sorry, for you know, not answering your messages and not calling you back. ignoring you. i - i have no excuse for that; and i'm not proud of it, either. but i just wanna say that, whatever we fought about, we- we can talk it out, if you're okay with that. i wanna make this right. i don't like being in fights with you, and it feels weird, not talking to you. and the thing is, i-" he sighs again, his gaze finally coming up to meet yours. his words come out in a whisper, his statement meant for you and you only. "- i missed you."

kogure kiminobu . . .

easily the best communicator out of the three !!

he's the type of person that strives to end any miscommunication before it could even begin, so fights and arguments with him are infrequent, if not completely rare

the only scenario i can see wherein you'd get in a fight with him is about how maybe you're working too hard -- studying from the time you get home to the early hours of morning with no breaks in-between

kogure hates seeing you suffer, so often times he tries to offer advice, even if you don't want or need it

eitherway, an argument would happen ; maybe some hurtful words were thrown around, words that neither of you meant

regardless of who instigated, kogure would always be the one to first make amends

all around you, the world goes on -- students chatting excitedly over lunch, footsteps echoing all across the campus, birds and cars and people all just trying to move forward. but in this corner of the school, the one with the flowering cherry tree behind the cafeteria, the world only consisted of you and him. you fidget with the water bottle in your hands, the condensation making your palms wet. the sweltering noontime heat makes you dizzy. (or was it from your lack of sleep?) you raise your handkerchief to swipe at your sweat, but kogure beats you to it -- gently, he dabs his at your forehead, then your cheeks, then your neck. his hands are cool despite the heat. "i'm sorry for what i said the other day," he says as he cools you down. "i ... i just don't want to see you having a hard time. i know that your deadlines were near and you have so much to do but i just really don't like seeing you so ... tired. you haven't been talking much lately and i haven't seen you smile all week so i - i just --" "kiminobu." you cut him off, leaning your cheek into his palm. kogure's heart pounds in his chest ; you say his name so sweetly, so softly. "it's okay." "are you sure?" he stammers, leaning forward to caress your face better. "it's just that i know i said some things that i shouldn't have said and it's --" "kiminobu," you repeat again, your tone firm but gentle at the same time. you rest the weight of your head on his palms (along with the weight you've been feeling all week) and you smile at him. "it's okay." kogure stares at you for a moment, then he smiles back, his eyes crinkling and a laugh spilling from his lips. "okay," he repeats, nodding his head. "okay." he laughs, and it feels like he's weightless, floating on cloud nine.

rukawa kaede . . .

not much to say for rukawa tbh

but in all seriousness, the aftermath of your fights with rukawa would be silent and cold. much like mitsui, he tends to prioritize his pride and sore heart over actually making amends with you.

but that doesn't mean he doesn't care !

more often than not, he ends up with his fingers hovering over his phone's keyboard, trying desperately to think of a way to apologize to you, before sighing and just turning his phone off

he plays basketball to let off the steam, and also to occupy his mind from the lack of your presence : (

the sounds of rukawa's basketball hitting the floor echoes throughout the empty gym, mixing in with the sounds of cicadas chirping in the trees. moths gather under lamplights, their wings silvery in the night. bam-bam-bam goes the ball, before his pace stuttersto a halt. he wipes the sweat off his forehead and checks the time -- 7 pm. that's enough practice for one day. the cold night air greets him as he walks out the gym. as he swings his leg over his bike, he sees a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. "you're still here," he states, deadpan. he still hasn't figured out how to apologize to you, and his stiffness shows in his voice. "yeah," you reply, clutching your bag tighter. you had been in the library with your classmates up until that point, working hard to finish a group project before tomorrow's deadline. silence between the two of you. you walk on, and so does he, the click-click-click of his bike wheels the only sound disrupting the quiet turmoil of each other's thoughts. the two of you exit the school campus, and for a moment you both falter on the concrete sidewalk, shoes scuffling the grit underfoot. "i'll- i'll go this way, then," you mutter. what the hell, he hates this! everything feels so ... stilted. before rukawa could reply, you turn on your heel and start walking in the direction of the train station. you barely manage three steps before rukawa cycles by, blocking you with his bike. he takes your bag and puts it in the front basket. pats the passenger seat of his bike with a determined gaze. "i'll take you home," he says. his voice is softer now. there wasn't much else to do except to sit on the backseat of his bike and let him pedal you home, the night air causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. "wrap your arms around me," rukawa instructs. the wind carries his words, lifts it to your ear. you swear his breath hitches just the tinest bit when you do what he says, adding in a small nuzzle to his side for good measure. "i'm sorry," you whisper after a while, voice half-muffled by the fabric of his coat. your fingers toy with the zipper of his jacket. rukawa is silent for a bit, then he takes one hand off the handlebar and puts it atop yours. he intertwines your fingers with his, squeezing. his pulse vaguely thumps through his skin, sending beats vibrating through your palm. "i'm sorry, too."

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

@joaquinwhorres

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@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

[pupyuj]

→ “long overdue.” || kim jiwon (liz) x reader.

— jiwon reunites with you, her old fling, at her brother’s bachelor party and with the sparks still in the air, you don’t waste any time to get familiar with her once more…

word count: 5.2k.

dynamic: dom!bottom!liz x sub!top!reader.

warnings: age gap (it's not much!), unnie kink, fwb to lovers, nipple play, oral fixation, cunnilingus, fingering, thigh riding, orgasm denial, edging.

a/n: FINALLY! a jiwon fic from moi 😭😭 this was supposed to be posted earlier on valentine's day but alas 💀 i really do wish i could've dropped something for feb 14th but back then i was bitter, lonely, sad, and angry so trying to write something cute and lovey-dovey was just not ideal LMAO but anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this fic 💚 only one more member and i will have officially written a fic for each of the ive unnies! WE CAN DO IT!! 😤✨ also i'm pretty sure i'm missing some warnings/tags but i'm too sleepy to remember them so...

jiwon doesn’t know why she agreed to chaperone her grown brother to his stupid bachelor party. as far as she knew, it was a boy thing. according to her brother, however, she was an exception and so, jiwon finds herself seated at the farthest corner of the bar in what might be the most expensive nightclub she has ever set foot in. she hasn’t even downed her first drink yet—she merely made a tiny tornado with the small umbrella while keeping an eye on her little brother and his ridiculous group of friends.

some of them were familiar to her, some weren’t. and some have repeatedly asked for her number in the past two and a half hours they’ve been in the place. it was after the eleventh time it happened that jiwon decided to go on her lonesome and sat on that one corner of the bar, silently waiting for the little party to end so she could get her nice, long and certainly well-deserved, sleep. jiwon really wished that she came up with some boring excuse to avoid this event. unfortunately, she couldn’t say no to her brother who was so kind to include her! 

perhaps he knew that jiwon needed to look at something that wasn’t the view from the big windows of that fancy condominium where she lives. on top of all that, jiwon has been working harder than usual. but that’s only because she quite literally has nothing else to do in her life. all of her friends were busy, she was busy, and it’s not like she can just hit up her coworkers for a quick drink after work when she barely knew them. in hindsight, jiwon sort of needed this!

jiwon raises her glass to her lips, but stops midway when something curious catches her attention. a girl, a bit younger than jiwon herself, confidently marches up towards her brother and does a very familiar handshake with him before hugging him tightly. jiwon watches as the girl and her brother chat a bit. they exchanged a few jokes here and there, the girl hands him a small bag (a gift to his soon-to-be wife, possibly), then her brother whispers in the girl’s ear as he exchanges glances with jiwon, and suddenly both of them were looking at her from across the nightclub.

jiwon nearly drops her glass when she sees the girl’s face clearly. it was you—(y/n) (l/n), her brother’s former roommate and best friend all throughout college! jiwon has met you before! back when her life was a goddamn mess and her entire family thought that you were her brother’s girlfriend. but then it turns out you were more like… his sister from a different family and so that was when you and jiwon started getting to know each other.

perhaps you got to know each other a bit too well… because jiwon remembers all those times when the two of you would hang out in her room for hours and f—

��jiwon-unnie!”

the blonde haired girl springs up from her seat and waved as you squeezed through multiple crowds of people until you got to her. wow, you were beautiful. taller, older, and obviously so much prettier than the last time jiwon saw you.

which was in between her le—

“i missed you so much!” you engulfed jiwon in a crushing bear-hug which she awkwardly returned. “oh wow, unnie, you’re gorgeous! blonde fits you so well.” you were saying as you pulled away, taking in all of jiwon’s features and even threading her soft hair from behind. jiwon got goosebumps under your touch—how the fuck was she supposed to act normal in this situation?

“i am so glad you’re here because as much as i love him, i’m not as much of a boys girl anymore.” you pulled jiwon back to her seat, taking the empty one right beside hers and immediately telling the bartender about your favorite drink. jiwon finds herself completely speechless. literally. you were vibrant, you were chatty, you were so charming—everything jiwon remembers that you were all those years ago.

“mmm. never gets old.” you said after taking the first sip of your drink. you then turned to jiwon who flinched upon making eye contact with you. “what have you been doing these days, unnie? i know you’re like, some kind of big deal at this rich-people company you work for but you know… what else?” you eyed jiwon up and down before smiling at her. not even the darkness and the nearly seizure-inducing lights of the nightclub could hide that familiar glint in your eyes, but jiwon chose to ignore them.

she couldn’t help but glance at how your skirt is hiked up after you’ve put one leg over the other though.

“um, i haven’t been doing much, really. just… work and making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” jiwon said, nodding her head to her brother who was pretty buzzed at this time.

you laughed, “you guys never really changed, huh? glad to see it.” you took another sip of your drink.

“only this time i’m helping him with his road to being a husband instead of a project due in thirty minutes.” jiwon shakes her head at the memory, and she likes the way it makes you smile brightly.

“right… and are you still with wonyoung-ssi?” you asked with caution. yet you stared at jiwon as you did so, making sure she sees your ulterior motive through your eyes. jiwon feels herself crumbling under the weight of your stare, as much as she tries to put up a fight of her own.

“no… no, that’s been over for a while now.” it was a good breakup. one that ended with laughter rather than tears and anger. jiwon still talks with wonyoung to this day. why, only a week ago, wonyoung had called jiwon about her brother’s wedding! she expressed her regret about not being able to attend it due to scheduling conflicts—the life of an acclaimed supermodel was busy after all!

you looked significantly happier with the news, now gulping down your drink with a smile on your face. “h-how about you? he never told me what you did after you guys graduated…” jiwon attempts to have some control of the situation—sitting up straight, staring back at you with the same intensity, and all. was she successful? no. jiwon’s blushes as you held your stare with hers, an amused smirk now on your lips before you flipped your hair over your shoulder.

shiiit, jiwon remembers how perfect your neck looks while covered with marks left by her… oh gods, what is wrong with her?!

“well, after college, i did try getting my career started… but that didn’t work out. i ended up going back to my hometown to get back in touch with my heart and all that sentimental bullshit, and it actually worked,” you giggled, your hand brushing across your hair. “i know what i want to do in my life, but for now, i’m just…” you trailed off, raising your drink as well as quirking your eyebrow. “having fun before i can’t.” now your glass is finally empty.

“that’s good. and i’m glad the two of you are still friends. i was worried you’d grow apart.” it always made jiwon smile when she came home after a rough day at her old job and seeing you and her brother in the house, chatting and fooling around as if you weren’t burdened by all your commitments and responsibilities. it had always been refreshing seeing you, and it still is.

you propped your elbow on the table and put your chin on your palm, flashing jiwon a teasing smile, “did you miss me, unnie?”

and just like that, every ounce of confidence jiwon built up evaporates into nothing. she laughs awkwardly, hiding behind her drink, “o-of course! it was weird not seeing you guys together all the time, you know!” another awkward laugh. jiwon felt ridiculous and childish.

“no, unnie,” you moved closer, putting your hand on jiwon’s arm. she turned her head to look at you again and there you were, staring at her with clouded eyes. you then leaned closer and put your other arm behind her, your lips ghosting above her ear. shitshitshit, that’s too close. “did you miss me?”

what happened moments later isn’t exactly what jiwon would say was… a mistake. hell, it was far from it.

being trapped between the door of your hotel room and yourself while getting her neck marked up and her clothes slowly stripped down is the most eventful jiwon’s night has been.

jiwon could feel her brother’s worry all the way from here… well, it’s mainly because she knew that all the buzzing that her phone was doing in her pocket was because of him mass texting her about her whereabouts. she couldn’t be bothered to text him back right now though, not when you were already trailing your hand up her thigh and sliding it underneath her skirt. this felt familiar, and it felt good. feeling you gently rub her wet cunt through her panties felt good, feeling you softly biting on her collarbone felt good, seeing those cute eyes of yours asking for permission while you tugged on her panties felt good.

how long has it been since jiwon felt this kind of rush in her life? too long, she’d say. so why not make the most out of it?

jiwon cups your cheeks and crashes her lips into yours for the first time that night. your lips tasted like blueberries (from whatever you were drinking earlier), and jiwon loved the way you kissed her rather clumsily as if you didn’t expect her to do it first. jiwon couldn’t get enough. she pushes you further inside the room, discarding you of your jacket while doing so. she sits you down on the edge of the bed before separating from your lips and suddenly walking off, leaving you confused and slightly light-headed.

turns out, jiwon only went away to turn the lampshade on, illuminating the room with a warm orange glow before going back to you. she stared you down with hooded eyes, lust replacing the kind look in her irises that you knew and loved, and then she gently grabs your jaw, tilting your head up. you squeezed your thighs together, trying to soothe that ache in your core. god, you missed her.

“make this worth it, (y/n).” jiwon says coldly. even jiwon herself was surprised at her tone, but something in her brain liked how you crumbled under her stare. compared to the timid, nervous jiwon from earlier, bossy and demanding and… kind of harsh jiwon just did something right to you.

“you’ve always been worth it.” you pulled jiwon towards you by her hips, making her sit down on your lap. you feel her brushing your hair with her fingers, allowing you to release the tension on your shoulders and just melt into her. you’ve missed her warmth, and she’s missed yours. jiwon didn’t understand why you left when you did… but that was a question you were going to answer for her later.

much, much later.

jiwon moans softly as you start kissing her neck. your hands get busy with the remaining buttons on her shirt, revealing more of her skin for you to mark up throughout the night. you’ve already left some earlier, and they were starting to show across her chest but that wasn’t enough. you slowly pull off her shirt and let it drop to the ground, then your hands travel lower on jiwon’s body, stopping at the waistband of her skirt.

you were eager to touch her—unzipping her skirt and whining to get her to stand up and let it fall at her feet before you pulled her back into you. jiwon couldn’t help but laugh while you kissed her hungrily, and then she giggled even more when you rolled around and made her lay on her back on the bed.

you pouted cutely as you observed her and her baby pink lingerie, “hmm… were you expecting to sleep with someone in that club, unnie? you looked prepared.”

jiwon thought it was the perfect time to tease such a normally confident girl like you. so she nodded with a shit-eating grin, “the lady bartender was cute actually.” she laughs when you suddenly hop off of her abdomen, choosing to sit on the side of the bed instead. you were taking off your shoes, setting them aside before starting to discard yourself of your jewelry and putting them on the bedside table. jiwon watches you intently, her desire for you only growing by the second.

“come on, get in here already.”  jiwon tugged on your sleeve, more than ready to feel your lips on her skin once again. she decided to sit up and help you with your dress though, reaching for the zipper and slowly pulling it down. she didn’t waste the opportunity to leave kisses on the back of your neck, all the way down to the middle of your back, making sure that her lipstick sticks on your skin and smiling satisfied once she sees that it did.

finally, jiwon could see all of you after all these years, and you were just as beautiful as the last time she saw you. jiwon couldn’t resist immediately grabbing your face and kissing you as you climbed into the bed—she longed to feel your skin against hers again and now that you were here, she doesn’t think she ever wants to let you go like she did back then. so, jiwon holds onto you tightly, letting you settle yourself on top of her once again while your hands impatiently explore her perfect body. your hands reach behind jiwon, unclasping her bra and throwing it aside, your hands quickly finding themselves busy fondling her soft breasts.

it was cute to see that you still adored her tits as much as you did back then. you did that thing you always did when you were intimate with jiwon, kissing all over her chest, making sure to cover every inch of skin while still massaging her tits. jiwon caresses your hair as you did your job, laughing softly in an adoring way, her smile only widening when you look up at her with your own grin.

“you’re so pretty, jiwon-unnie.” you gave the older girl one last quick kiss on the lips before leaning down and taking her nipple in your mouth. jiwon gasps at the feeling of your warm tongue slowly swirling around her nipple. it was familiar, like all of the other things you’ve done to her so far, but it also felt new at the same time. because this time, the two of you were much older, and you were doing this purely out of your true feelings for each other rather than a decision made on a whim. jiwon moans loudly when you softly and carefully bite on the hard bud, but she was quick to regain composure when she notices something quite… well, interesting.

jiwon sees how you humped the mattress slightly, trying your best to soothe that buzzing in your core on your own. jiwon decides to swiftly slide her thigh in between your legs and press it against your wet cunt, feeling all satisfied when you whine and start slowly grinding on her thigh for further stimulation. your hand that was pinching her other nipple was now gripping the sheets as you started riding jiwon’s thigh faster, whining even more as you feverishly sucked and nipped on her tit. jiwon grins, loving how she hasn’t lost her special little talent of reducing you to her obedient pet. she starts meeting your little thrusts by raising her thigh—somehow, the sight of you like this had her soaked, but you haven’t noticed at all. you were too busy trying to get yourself off!

you had to let go of jiwon’s nipple eventually, now hugging her close and whining at her chest because you were feeling so good. you’ve started shaking and your moans were shorter and higher—it only meant one thing! jiwon takes a fistful of your hair and pulls your face up to make you look at her, ignoring how you winced at the pain.

“don’t cum.” she says strictly, her grip on your hair tightening by the second the more you thrust into her thigh.

“b-but..! hnng.. i’m s-so close…! so close…” the pout, the tears, that desperate tone in your voice… jiwon almost wanted to fold, but she wasn’t in the mood for that.

“you don’t get to cum before me ever, remember? be good.”

as much as it upset you, you slowly decreased your pace until you were merely sitting on her thigh. jiwon smiles—she was happy to know that she still had some sort of hold over you. she knew she always did! why, you were always clingy towards jiwon whenever her brother invited you over, and that was even before the two of you started sleeping with each other. she always used it to her advantage, mostly in bed, of course. something else jiwon always liked: that pitiful look on your cute face when she denies you of your release. you’d always look so timid after, afraid that if you spoke incorrectly, jiwon might stop the whole thing entirely.

but jiwon was never that cruel. she’d tease you, sure, but she would always make sure to give you what you want. just as long as she gets hers first.

“look,” you watched as jiwon’s hand traveled down from her stomach to her panties. she was drenched; your fault. “do something.” she demands. shit. the dark tone in her voice and the stern look on her face was enough to get you to move lower. you pulled off jiwon’s panties, your heart beating so fast for no goddamn reason. it has been a very long time since you have seen jiwon, let alone like this. acting like this, looking at you like this. it’s got you weak.

you stared at jiwon’s pussy. soaked, tight, perfect, and most importantly, all for you.

“how cute. you’re practically drooling.” jiwon impatiently puts her hand atop your head and brings your face closer to her needy cunt. you hoisted her legs over your shoulder, then you started leaving kisses along her inner thighs—deep and sensual kisses, slow and careful right up until your lips barely ghosted above her pussy. jiwon stares at you with anticipation, you stare back at her; your eyes now dark and hungry. you keep eye contact as you licked up her cunt once, smirking while you felt jiwon’s entire body shiver at the feeling. she pushes your head a little closer, so fucking desperate that you almost wanted to be petty and tease her, but she would probably hit you for that.

and so, you give her what she wants. within seconds of your lips touching her cunt once more, you were practically making out with it. goosebumps appeared along your skin as your tongue slowly got familiar with jiwon’s taste again. it felt right, like the stars have finally realigned themselves after years of floating about the expansive universe, lost. you put your hands to use, spreading her lips apart and pleasuring her clit.

“g-good…! there… mmhn.. (y/n)-ah…!” jiwon grabs a fistful of your hair again, pushing you impossibly closer to her cunt, practically grinding it against your face. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, sucking softly and moaning at jiwon’s sheer taste. fuck, it was all too good. you use one hand to grip one of her thighs, sinking your nails down to her skin, and spreading it further so you could have room.

“fuck..! i want to cum, (y/n)… m-more, more..! please…” jiwon’s back arches right as you flick the sensitive bud. you slipped your tongue inside her cunt, making jiwon moan just a tad bit louder than the hotel room walls would recommend her to. the next rooms most likely heard that—good. everyone needs to know how amazing you make her feel. how you’re the only one who can make her feel this way. and everyone’s going to know it again; you used your free hand to rub jiwon’s clit since your tongue was too busy inside her.

normally, this would’ve made jiwon cum. but she was strong this time around. “fucking—god, (y/n)…! more.. more…” jiwon pleads while on the verge of tears. you free her thigh of your grip and hold her hand instead, at least it helped her ground herself at least. the more you used your tongue inside her, the more you felt her clench. her grip gets tighter, both on your hand and on your hair. you briefly glanced upwards and saw her closing her eyes shut—she was close. but you found yourself being torn between letting her reach her climax now, stall a bit longer, or… make her orgasm just a lot stronger.

you pulled out your tongue from her cunt. jiwon hisses and nearly hits you on the head for slowing down and going back to sucking on her clit as you previously did. she glared at you, but was immediately back to being at your mercy when you unexpectedly inserted two of your fingers inside her. god, she was still tight. you stared in awe as you fucked jiwon in an excrutiatingly slow pace, merely watching as her pussy clenches around your digits. you pushed further, now knuckle-deep inside jiwon. you could cum from the sensation of her spongy walls brushing against your fingertips alone but you had to keep her rule in mind.

“m-mouth… use your mouth, (y/n).. ah!” and happily you did! your mouth and fingers worked in unison on jiwon’s pussy—every time you pulled out, you’d suck and lick her clit, the routine now going back to you. you’re remembering all the things she liked done to her, even down to the tiniest details. like eye contact. your eyes fluttered open, peering at jiwon through your fringe. she was already staring at you, her face contorted to show much pleasure you were bringing to her. jiwon has never once tried to conceal her noises and she wasn’t going to ask you to slow down or anything either. you both needed this, and unfortunately for this entire damn hotel, they were going to know just how much.

jiwon loosens her grip on your head once she realizes just how tight she was holding it, now threading your hair and only gently nudging you closer whenever she thinks your mouth isn’t doing enough. you curled your fingers inside her, making her tense up once more and bring her to that familiar edge. “please, please, please…!” jiwon whispers desperately like a prayer with a single tear running down her cheek. you increased your pace and buried your face in her cunt, not caring about making a mess of your face. all you cared about was satisfying your jiwon-unnie, and that you were successful when you brought her to a mind-blanking orgasm with a single flick of your tongue.

a long moan escapes jiwon’s lips as you continue to eat her out through her climax. god, she was delectable. you were determined to not waste a single drop of her cum, lapping her up like a dog and once more relishing at the taste of her juices on your tongue. you pull out your fingers as well, making sure jiwon sees you sucking on it to show her just how much you enjoy how she tastes. jiwon was beyond flustered and she was feeling all sorts of things—overwhelmed, weak, and perhaps most importantly of all, so fucking desperate to make you feel just as good.

you don’t hear her at first. jiwon was speaking in a small voice since she was still weak from everything you did, but you do hear her later on. “come here, baby,” the nickname practically sends you scurrying over on top of her again. jiwon wipes your chin clean with her hand, smiling brightly at you as she pulls you in for a sweet kiss. she can taste herself on your lips and your tongue, and a part of her understands why you’re so addicted. “unnie’s turn, hm?” she whispers against your lips… but her kisses have sent your brain elsewhere, hence your surprised gasp when you felt her gently rub your clit through your panties.

“hah… you’re still super sensitive here?” jiwon asked.

“t-that’s my clit, unnie.. of course, i’m—ahh—sensitive there…” cheeky. even when you’re the one at her mercy now. you pulled your panties off, throwing over to the pile of clothes on the carpeted floor. jiwon was teasing you: tracing your lips with her fingers, barely letting her fingertips touch your entrance, and not even giving your clit the attention it needs now. you whine as you grind down on jiwon’s hand, desperate for more contact but she refuses to touch you.

“aww, what’s with that face?” jiwon coos, laughing slightly. you had a mix of desperation and irritation on your face. it was annoying how she was being annoying, especially at such a crucial time but you knew the exact thing you had to do to get her going.

“unnie. please. i need you…” you pleaded. jiwon leans back on the pillow behind her, finding it so amusing to watch you slowly lose every ounce of self-respect just so you can cum. fuck, if jiwon wanted to be cruel, she could! she could make you beg all night, see those pretty eyes of yours shine with tears as you cry… the sick part of jiwon really wanted it all to come true, but she’s missed you too much to prolong this any further. and so, she pushes your face closer to her by the back of your neck, kissing you passionately just to get you to calm down.

one word jiwon would use to describe how she felt for the events that followed? relieving.

it was relieving to feel your warmth around the three fingers she inserted in your pussy at once, to feel your tongue inside her mouth, to bleed slightly from the way you held onto her arms so tightly, and it was most relieving to hear you say her name so sweetly. you can have such a dirty mouth with so many vulgar words to say, especially from years before when you were younger, but whenever you were with jiwon, you were a different person. jiwon was one of the only people who you allowed to see you like this: soft, weak, and so endearing. it seems like you haven’t changed that aspect about you, and that fact within itself was relieving to jiwon.

“unnie…!” you buried your head on the crook of jiwon’s neck as you felt every inch of her fingers brush against all of your sweet spots. as expected, things were always different when it came to jiwon. being so vulnerable to other people terrified you to the point where it was almost impossible to let your heart open to them, but jiwon made it so simple. but now that you were right here, looking at jiwon and feeling her everywhere, maybe it wasn’t just simply her that made it possible for you to let yourself fall.

wait… fall?

yes. fall. all this time—you’ve fallen for jiwon but too many things made it complicated for you to fully embrace it. but now you are ready.

“i’m so happy, (y/n),” jiwon’s voice felt like a dream. you almost couldn’t hear her properly due to how much her fingers overwhelmed you. the older girl used her free hand to lift your chin, making you look at her, before kissing your lips—it has always been her favorite thing to do. “i’m so happy you came back to me. i don’t know how to express how much i missed you… surely not with words, not even with this…” jiwon plunges her fingers deep, shushing you while you moan loudly. god, she knew you too well. knew which spot to hit to get you to lose your mind, knew the exact words to whisper in your ear when she notices you were slipping away from reality, and knew exactly how to make your heart beat like it never has before.

jiwon pulls her index finger out, now fucking you faster than she ever has with the only fingers she has inside you. “good girl. god, baby… you’re getting me wet again.” jiwon locks one of her legs around yours, keeping you in place. her palm slams against your sensitive clit, bringing tears to your eyes even though you grinded on her hand desperately to feel it over and over again. part of the reason why jiwon always needed to be the one to be fucked first is because you get so tired after your turn that you just pass out, and you never got out of that habit it seems. jiwon sees how the light was escaping your eyes, it was only a matter of time before you were too exhausted to keep yourself awake.

“hm, we have to be careful, huh? can you handle it, love?”

you nodded frantically, afraid that she’d slow down had you answered otherwise, “y-yes..! ahh, yes, i can. i can, unnie.. i can—mmhn..! i can take it…” you started moving your hips, riding jiwon’s fingers just to get closer and closer for that climax you’ve been chasing after the entire night. jiwon was thoroughly amused at how determined you were. normally, you’d give up or tap out if you found it all too much, but jiwon knows you want to be good for her. especially after all this time.

“you’re so cute… but don’t worry, baby,” jiwon places a sweet, deep kiss on your damp forehead. “we have all the time in the world now.”

a curl of her fingers later and you were cumming on jiwon’s hand. the older girl stopped her movements, afraid of overstimulating you. she whispers sweet words into your ears as you let yourself go, at least that's what you think she’s doing. you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone hear. but despite your consciousness slowly slipping away from you, you still felt jiwon gently lay you down on the spot next to her. she holds you close enough that she is within kissing distance.

she was so perfect—how could you have left her?

“unnie…” you tucked a piece of her behind her ear. her laugh makes your ears tingle. you faintly hear her ask if you’re feeling okay, to which you nodded weakly at. you can see her lips move, she was saying a few things, but you can’t hear her over the sound of your heartbeat. you cup her cheek, lean close, and kiss her. maybe it was your favorite thing to do, just like her. and then, words that have always been expected to be unsaid leave your lips. some feelings that have been kept hidden, secrets that you were afraid of letting slip.

“i love you, jiwon-unnie.”

long overdue, sure. even jiwon felt it before you ever said it to her. but she thinks that your bashful smile, the way you shyly looked away from her, and your precious reaction to her saying it back made it all worth the wait.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

BBYG PART TWO OF GUILTY AS SIN PLEASE I LUV UR WORKSSSS

i hope you guys enjoy this!! i had a lot of fun with it. it’s technically part two but i gave it a different title sorry :)

~~~

Fresh Out The Slammer

James Potter x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, fingering, slight oral (f receiving), very slight underage alcohol but barely, morally idk how good this is, lmk if i missed any

summary: after you and Remus finally split, you and James finally come together…

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another taylor fanfic hahaha (i love this) lmk what you guys think of the end i thought it was really clever but maybe that’s just me being overconfident…

part one is here!!

~~~

I did my time

Now pretty baby I’m running back home to you

Fresh out the slammer

I know who my first call will be to...

~~~

When you look back on your days at Hogwarts, you always wonder why you and Remus stayed together so long.

It was a week after your monumental conversation with James on the grass that your overdue breakup occurred. You had tried your hardest to give your relationship one last try, you really did. But one night as you laid next to the tall lanky boy, all you could think about was a certain pair of hazel eyes. A pair that didn’t belong to the boy next to you.

That was the final straw.

“Rem,” you said, your voice cool. “I think it’s best we break up.”

You kept your eyes on the canopy above, but you could feel him shift beside you. “Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I think this is overdue. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose so...” he replied.

You turned to look at him. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting calmly as could be with a book in one of his hands. A sigh escaped your lips, but you didn’t say anything else. Instead, you simply stood and began to dress yourself. He was the one to speak again.

“Would it be all right if we remained friends?” He asked his eyes on you for what felt like the first time in a while.

“Of course. Let’s not make it odd for everyone else,” you answered.

He looked back down at his book. “Right. Good night then.”

On the walk back to your dorm you named every reason in your head why you broke up with Remus. He was distant. He didn’t know how to treat you like a true girlfriend. The spark had died between the two of you. The relationship had truly just run its course. But as you stepped into the common room your eyes found the most significant reason.

You refused to put him on your mental list.

~~~

You didn’t know if it was out of respect for Remus or if it was intentional at all, but James waited a few weeks before making any sort of move on you. You were glad. Adjusting to a single life was strange. You no longer spent time alone with Remus, you no longer cried or had fits because of his behavior. He was simply another one of your friends. You liked him better that way.

When James did give you a sign, it was far from subtle.

It came during Charms in the form of a small piece of paper. Of course, Charms happened to be the only class the two of you had together that Remus was not in as well. In fact, the only other member of your friend group who was in the class was Peter and he never paid much attention to anything. So, when you felt the piece of paper hit your lap, you didn’t hesitate to open it.

How’s the single life treating you so far? -J

You turned your head to look at James, a smile on your lips. He was already looking at you, a similar smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up as you scribbled your reply and threw it back to him.

It’s better than I expected, most things are the same.

He was quick to throw it back.

That’s true except now you’re free to do whatever you’d like..

You held in a breath.

More like whomever I’d like

You let out a shaky breath at his reply.

Yeah? Well, you know where my bed is

For a few seconds, you stared at the note, not sure if you should write anything more. You turned back to look at him and your eyes instantly met his. He looked at you with a gleam that you hadn’t seen in a boy's eyes in a long time, at least not one directed toward you. So, you picked up your quill and wrote back, not a single guilty thought crossing your mind.

I suppose I’m going to know what it feels like soon too

~~~

Another long week passed before anything happened between you and him. And each day that passed only filled you with more desire. You felt almost giddy at the thoughts. A secret hookup with James Potter. It was something you’d imagined for a long time, but for so many reasons you never imagined it would actually be brought to life.

But it was.

One night, there was a party in the Ravenclaw common room that everyone was attending. Everyone except you. Or so you thought.

“Are you sure y/n/n? It’ll be so much fun,” Lily questioned. You were all in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else was getting ready to leave, but you sat on the couch in your bedclothes.

“Yeah, I’m not really in the party mood tonight. Plus, I have some work that still needs to be done,” you answered honestly.

“Boring!” Sirius exclaimed. “Don’t worry lovely I’ll make sure to save some alcohol for you.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” you said with a laugh.

“Let’s go, Wormtail, Moony, Prongs.”

“Actually, you lot can go without me. I’m not feeling the greatest.”

Your eyes shot to James. What was he doing? You noticed what he was wearing. A wifebeater and flannel pants. You swore you never wanted to shag him more than at that moment.

“Are you serious?” Sirius groaned. “Whatever mate you’re no fun. We’ll be back later.”

“All right, have fun,” James replied.

“Bye, y/n/n!” The girls sang as they left.

You waved them all goodbye before getting up and turning to the staircase. You could feel James’s eyes burning into you from behind.

“Seems it’s just the two of us for once,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

Your stomach filled with butterflies. “Yeah, it seems that way.”

“I was wondering if you could help me with some Charms work, I know you have the homework as well perhaps we can do it together...” From the tone of his voice, you knew it wasn’t true. But still, you turned and gave him a slight nod. “It’s all in my dorm, let’s just go up there to do it.”

Deep down, you knew you should’ve felt bad. James was your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. If any of them knew about your sinful thoughts, you’d surely be thrown out of the group and shunned. However, while that knowledge made you feel uneasy, it didn’t stop you from following him up to the dorm.

The second the door closed behind the two of you, James’s lips were on yours. Though it came as a surprise, you didn’t hesitate for even a second to kiss him back. His lips were warm and soft, just how you had always imagined. It was messy and quick and when he broke it you found yourself breathless. All you could do was stare at him, your cheeks pink.

“James I-”

“We can take our time if you’d like, I’m sorry I’ve just wanted to do that for so fucking long,” he replied as if he could read your mind.

“Me too, you don’t understand.” You inhaled deeply and took a few steps deeper into the dorm you were all too familiar with. Only this time, you sat on a different bed. “This doesn’t feel real.”

He sat down next to you on his bed, his glowing hazel eyes locked on yours. “Believe me, I understand everything.”

“I just... want you,” you mumbled. It felt so good to finally say it. You placed one of your hands on his thigh. “I want you a lot.”

He smiled in a way that practically sent shivers down your spine. “I want you too.”

“So, take me. You don’t... you don’t have to be gentle,” you whispered with a confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Instead of answering you with words, James leaned closer and caught your lips in another kiss. This time though, it wasn’t messy and rushed. No. It was passionate, it was a kiss that would leave you giggling on your bed when you looked back on it. As your lips moved against his you followed his lead and laid back on the mattress with your legs parted for him to slip in between.

His hands were far bigger than yours. When he slid one of them up your thigh you almost couldn’t remember how to breathe. You kissed him harder and weaved your fingers through his soft curly hair. He toyed with your shorts for a moment before carefully slipping his hand beneath the fabric. It would be an understatement to say you were wet. You were soaked. And you could feel James’s smirk on your mouth when he discovered this.

“Are you always like this?” He mumbled.

You shook your head. “Only when it comes to you.”

“Good.”

He wasted no more time and moved his fingers under your knickers, finding your clit almost instantly. You gasped, one of your hands gripped his strong shoulder tightly, and your eyes squeezed shut.

“James,” you moaned.

He began to trail wet kisses down your neck as he continued to rub soft circles on your clit. Never mind thinking straight, you couldn’t think at all. Your stomach was warm, and waves of pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. You swore you’d never felt anything as good in your life. But when your hand brushed against his shirt you sighed.

“Take it off, take everything off. Please,” you whispered frantically.

You opened your eyes to see James’s bright smile. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without another word, he leaned back and pulled his shirt off. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring. His muscles were toned, yet he was still skinny. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but you settled on dragging your fingers up and down his chest for a few seconds.

“Your turn,” he said.

You silently sat up and lifted your tank top over your head and threw it down to the floor. Perhaps it was the amount of lust that consumed you, or perhaps it was the amount of comfort you felt with James. Either way, you didn’t cower or feel insecure as his eyes moved across your naked breasts. In fact, you felt confident. So, you laid back down on his bed and began to pull your shorts and knickers down, your eyes not leaving his.

Only when you were fully naked did you feel a slight feeling of insecurity. James must’ve noticed this though because he leaned over you and pressed a sincere kiss to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He brushed a hand over one of your breasts. “So perfect.”

“Fuck me, James, please I can’t bear it any longer,” you replied quickly. It was true, you’d already waited so many months in silence. How were you expected to wait even a second longer?

“I think you can afford to bear it for a few more minutes. I want to have my way with you first.”

You were going to protest, but before you could he slid his hand between your thighs. He swirled his fingers over you, collecting your wetness before eventually carefully moving one of his fingers inside of you. You threw your head back and gripped his sheets hard. It was an even better feeling than you’d imagined. He kissed you hungrily as he slowly started finger fucking you.

As if that wasn’t enough, he kissed down your body minutes later before ending with his face between your thighs. You couldn’t contain your whimpers and moans. If anyone was near the Gryffindor boy's dorm, they’d surely hear you. The fact neither of you thought enough to cast a silencing charm only made it more thrilling.

By the time you reached your first orgasm, you were quite sure you’d never felt anything nearly as good in your life. Remus never cared enough to spend his time pleasuring you, at least not after the first few months. But James cared a whole lot. He touched you with his tongue and his fingers till you were shaking and panting for a break.

When he did stop you watched through heavy lids as he wiped his mouth on your thigh and began to pull down his last remaining articles of clothing. His eyes were glowing, and his glasses were almost falling off his face. You decided then that he was by far the most attractive boy you’d ever seen. And when your eyes trailed down his naked body you found yourself an even bigger reason as to why that statement was true.

“Are you on the potion?” He asked as he began to move over you.

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice weak.

He smirked. “You’re a dirty girl hm?”

“For you yes.”

“How so?”

You smiled sweetly and reached up to remove James’s glasses. “Truthfully? Sometimes I touch myself when I think of you.”

“You’ll have to show me next time.” He shifted and you felt his tip brush against your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. “Is this what you think about?”

“S-Sometimes yes,” you said with a shaky voice.

All you could do as he slowly began to thrust into you was gasp and wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his skin. He was big and you were still sensitive from how hard you previously came. Those factors only amplified how good he felt. Once he was fully in, he leaned down to connect your lips in another heated kiss before truly starting the shag.

Though Remus would fuck you hard, he never fucked you the way James did. James went hard, he went fast, but he also showed he still cared. At one point, he removed one of your hands from his back and pressed it against the mattress, lacing his fingers through yours. And his lips were either on yours, on your neck, or whispering sweet praises. Even the way he said your name was enough to tell you how much he cared about you.

You didn’t know how long it went on, but it was long enough that he started to grow tired. At that point, you’d already reached your second orgasm, so you decided he deserved a break. With all your strength, you flipped your positions and took some control. You lowered yourself onto him and nearly came a third time from the sounds he made.

When everything was done and over, the two of you laid next to each other out of breath and shocked at what had transpired. You felt your heart pound in your chest and a sticky feeling between your thighs. You turned your head to look at the boy next to you. He, of course, was already looking at you, his glasses back on.

“That was...”

“Better than any of my fantasies,” you told him.

“Mine too,” he agreed with a smile.

You bit down on your lip. “So now what?”

“Perhaps another go?”

That was an offer you could never refuse.

~~~

Hours later, past midnight at least, the door to the boy's dorm opened and the other three Marauders stumbled in. Sirius was far too drunk; he could barely stand up straight. That left Remus and Peter to stand on either side of him with their arms wrapped around his back protectively. All their eyes found you and James after a few seconds. The two of you sat on his bed, a foot of papers between the two of you.

“Oh, hello y/n,” Peter greeted you.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Remus questioned.

Sirius only gasped overdramatically. “They’re shagging! Prongsie and Lovely are shagging!”

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Why don’t we get you to bed?”

“Can I have a go first? Before bed? Please! Is that all right Moony?” Sirius stumbled over his words as his friends dropped him into his bed.

“Nobody’s having a go unless it is Moony,” James said.

Remus turned toward you, a questioning expression on his face. “What are you doing up here?”

You pointed at the many papers on James’s bed. “Charms homework, I told you lot that’s why I wasn’t going to the party. James felt a bit better, so we just decided to work on it together.”

“Will I be allowed to use that work?” Peter asked innocently.

“Of course, Pete,” you replied. You turned back to James’s bed where he still sat, and you began to gather your work. “I should be going then.”

You held your papers close to your chest and tried your hardest not to look at James. You knew if you did, something on your face would clearly show what had really gone on. So, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could to their door.

“Same time next week then?” James’s voice caught your attention as you were about to leave.

You looked over your shoulder and nodded, trying your hardest not to blush. “Or sooner, I’m very eager to get this work done.”

“All right, sooner, goodnight then,” James replied with a knowing look.

The last thing you heard before leaving was the innocent voice of Peter asking if he could join in and the loud laugh that James let out.

[egcdeath]

sealing the deal

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: you and patrick make a few unique business proposals to each other.

word count: 7k

warnings: succession au – tomshiv dynamic (pre-failmarriage), proposals (business and romantic), fluff, a little angst, mentions of a dad being very sick/almost dying, lots of exposition/background on the relationship, art cameo, a little domesticity, established relationship

author’s note: you don’t have to know anything about succession to enjoy this fic! i’ll explain everything that you need to know. if you’re a diehard succession fan i can’t promise that everything will be completely faithful to the source material but it definitely takes a lot of inspiration from tom and shiv’s dynamic.

i wanted to give a HUGE thank you to my succession anon who gave me so much help and guidance for this fic and basically ended up being my co-author for this fic! i hope you all enjoy :)

It wasn’t always easy loving the youngest son of the owner of a multi-billion dollar media conglomerate. 

In fact, most of the time, it was quite the opposite. 

Even without Patrick working in his family’s business, it always felt a little bit like you were in a competition for brain space and time with his family and career, and you were losing. Badly. 

You weren’t exactly sure that you knew what you signed up for when you first met Patrick—connected to each other by a mutual friend you went to business school with, whom you’d begged to try to set you two up for career advancement purposes more than anything else. 

“You know that guy you keep asking me about?” your friend asked you after taking a hefty sip from the drink the bartender just passed her. 

“Patrick Zweig?” you asked, not bothering to pretend like you didn’t know who she was talking about. 

“Yeah!” she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You weren’t sure where she was going with this subject, but you were intrigued by her mention of the man and her apparent entertainment at the situation. 

“What about him?” you asked, perversely curious as to why she was bringing him up now. 

“I invited him to come out with us tonight!” she laughed once more as she divulged this information, as if it wasn’t shocking news to you.  

“What? What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me before!” you practically yelled at her over the sound of loud music and other bar patrons. You suddenly felt very self conscious. If you’d known you were going to meet Patrick Zweig tonight, you would’ve put yourself together, rather than coming straight from work to the bar. 

“I wanted to surprise you!” she continued with her giggling at a situation that you did not find nearly as humorous. “Oh my god. I wish you could see your face right now.”

“I hate you!” you laughed, thinking that maybe this was some sort of prank. “You’re joking, then?”

“No, he’s really coming. He just got back from D.C. and wanted to meet with me. I asked if my hot friend could come along and he was like, ‘Obviously!’”

You groaned aloud. This wasn’t how you intended to make your first impression on him.

“Okay, well, what’s his type?” you asked her, hoping to get a bit of insight before you were launched right into what might end up being your first date. You were sure that you would make a good impression if you showed up as you were, but you wanted to be better than good. You didn’t want to be just another forgettable notch on his bedpost.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, taking a sip from her drink. “Hot? A nice ass? A little mean? Isn’t that every guy’s type?”

“You’re not taking this seriously enough for me,” you replied. You wanted to have a strategy going into this. You would’ve appreciated at least a small briefing before meeting someone so intimidating. 

“I am, you just check all the boxes already. Just be yourself and I’m sure things will work out fine,” she assured you. 

Her assurance was well warranted, considering that things worked out far better than fine. In fact, your friend was overdue for a fruit basket—one that you would be paying for with Patrick’s credit card as you sat in the dining room of your shared penthouse apartment, after you wrapped up a day of work in the skyscraper that was his father’s corporate headquarters. 

At the time, you had a slight idea of who he was, but you had an even better idea of who his family was. Anyone who owned a television would be familiar with his family’s corporation—from the causal channel surfers who passed one of their many news channels during their search for the newest episode of The Bachelor, to the thousands of people with their logo burned into their device screen from the hours they spent with their eyes locked on the 24-hour stream of borderline propaganda. 

Beyond his impressive family, you’d heard whispers and rumors about Patrick for a long time. Between headlines in gossip magazines and stories from your mutual friend, you learned that he’d entered the political world as an attempt to make a name for himself outside of his family name, but struggled to be taken seriously for many years due to the less than stellar reputation that came with being a Zweig.

Although, rumors about his career were just the tip of the iceberg. Gossip about his tumultuous relationships—if they could even be called that—and history of partying far too hard often ran wild, making you believe that your initial meetings with Patrick would be nothing more than a few hookups and sweet talking yourself into a new job. After all, there was no better pillow talk than an elevator pitch. 

At first, your plan seemed like it was right on track. You ended your first night together in the early morning, finding yourself in Patrick’s apartment for hours. Your night hadn’t really ever ended, with the two of you leaving the bar together, having some of the best sex of your life in a bed that felt a little bit like laying on a cloud, then proceeding to talk for hours until it was time for you to go back to work. You smiled to yourself as you sat in the backseat of Patrick’s car, exhausted from the long night and a little uncomfortable in yesterday’s clothes, but mostly enthusiastic after your surprisingly eventful night with the man. 

It was a strange turn of events from what you initially expected. While you couldn’t be too sure what you were getting yourself into when you learned you were being set up on a date, you assumed that Patrick would be like any other rich asshole you’d gone out on dates with, who got what they wanted from you, sent you off on your merry way, then never spoke to you again. You quickly discovered that he was unlike anyone you’d ever been with before. 

Patrick seemed to be full of surprises, and the fact that you were going on multiple dates with him in the first place was one of those very surprises. You hadn’t expected to go on any more than three dates before you asked about working for his family, securing yourself a job, then leaving him alone. 

What took you by even greater surprise were the dates themselves. What started as an intimate dinner in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city ended with you at a terrible 24-hour diner, treating Patrick to his first slice of cherry pie as you talked into the wee hours of the morning. 

Your subsequent dates went similarly, with the two of you talking endlessly about anything and everything. Patrick was someone full of surprises—he was far from the rich asshole you expected him to be, and more like a knowledgeable politics nerd with a lot of money. 

You talked for hours about big things, like why Patrick decided to pursue a career as a political strategist and what brought you to New York City, but you also found it easy to discuss small random things with him, spending an extended period of time discussing how you named your cat, and debating on the best restaurant in the city. 

You always thought of yourself as being somewhat agreeable and friendly when it came to conversation, but your discussions with Patrick took you by surprise. You weren’t sure you’d ever clicked with someone the way you clicked with him, and it made you as excited as it made you nervous. 

By the time you worked up the nerve to ask Patrick about working for his family, you were already beat to the punch. The two of you were tucked into the booth that you’d recently declared as yours in the same diner that you seemed to be spending all of your all-nighters in, reclining comfortably in the particularly uncomfortable seats. 

“Do you like the business side of things?” Patrick asked you, stirring a flattening Diet Coke with a straw. 

“It’s fun,” you dismissed. “It’s less fun going to work on a half-hour of sleep.”

“Shut up. You love it,” the man across from you laughed, an admittedly very handsome half-smile on his face. “I mean it though. Do you like what you’re doing?”

“It pays the bills, I guess. I like the work, but I’m not huge on the company. All the politics and the instability with layoffs lately… It isn’t exactly ideal.”

“Would you ever work for my family?” he asked. “I mean, you’re just wasting potential elsewhere. I really think they could use someone like you on their team.”

“Seriously?” you asked, partially surprised at the proposition, but mostly surprised that you weren’t the one to ask in the first place. Across the table, Patrick listened to you intently. “I mean, If they’d have me, I’d love to work for them.”

“My dad mentioned something about them looking for some new blood. I can put in a good word for you, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Is this because I showed you the joys of a slice of diner cherry pie?” you joked, trying not to let on just how overjoyed you were about this opportunity. 

“You got me. And now that you mention it, we should probably order another slice,” he suggested, going along with your joke. “You’re smart and you clearly know your shit. Besides, I’m mostly doing it for myself. It’ll be nice to have someone around at company Christmas parties who can actually keep up with me.”

“Well, thank you,” you replied calmly, though you were doing somersaults in your mind. “I look forward to drinking eggnog and singing Mariah Carey songs with you.”

In retrospect, you recognized this action as the first of his many wordless declarations of love. You later learned that Patrick did everything he could to avoid talking business with his family, as it was clearly a sore spot for everyone involved. Realizing that he’d gone out of his way to get you a job had been an even more kind gesture than you knew at the time. 

While you initially expected your fling to taper off after Patrick fulfilled his end of the business deal he didn’t even know he was facilitating, your relationship did nothing of the sort. In fact, his favor seemed to have the opposite effect on your bond. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were courting each other like lovesick Jane Austen protagonists. In another shocking turn of events, Patrick ordered flowers to your doorstep each morning and took you on lavish dates, while you began to take four-hour long train rides to and from D.C. each weekend to visit him, and frequently sent him rambling love letters. 

While you hadn’t expected for your relationship to unfold the way that it did, you genuinely loved Patrick. You loved the way his eyes crinkled when you told him something stupid that he’d laugh at, or how he leaned in to whisper something judgmental in your ear about someone you mutually disliked during family events. You loved the way his hand felt in yours and the way his mind worked, which he frequently displayed to you while discussing his latest political strategy. You even loved when he minced words to describe how he felt about you, knowing that though the word ‘love’ might never leave his lips, his actions spoke far louder than his voice ever could. 

It just so happened that you loved his proximity to power, too. 

While his money and power might have piqued your interest initially, it didn’t change the fact that the two of you quickly clicked. You had a natural chemistry, with you matching Patrick’s flirty words and actions with ease. It also just so happened that you entered each other's lives at the perfect time, with you in dire need of a career upgrade, and Patrick in need of someone unafraid to show him more affection and care than he was willing to give. 

Though he wasn’t the best at communicating his feelings, you quickly became a tenured professor in Patrick-ology. You were certain that this played a role in why Patrick liked you so much in the first place—being somewhat emotionally stunted, he needed someone who could understand his thoughts without him having to explicitly say every detail, and you did exactly that. 

This skill worked out surprisingly well for you. You gave him the love and understanding that he’d been looking for and missing for all of his adult life, and you got to reap the benefits that came with being in a relationship with someone in one of the most powerful families in the world. 

Despite your more humble beginnings, you quickly became familiar with luxurious items and activities. You also quickly learned that no matter how prepared you thought you were for that level of wealth—you weren’t. You couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times your unfamiliarity with certain norms left you as the laughing stock of the family. 

But it wasn’t all corner offices in skyscrapers and helicopter rides. During the honeymoon phase of your relationship, it certainly felt like it, but the cracks in your foundation became more and more evident every day. 

The thing was, as much as you two cared about each other, there was a family shaped shadow that loomed over everything that you did. It was clear that you were an outsider in Patrick’s family. Coming from an upper-middle class Midwestern background, you were often made to feel like you were a stupid gold-digger, only staying around your boyfriend for power, rather than love. At times, you wondered if his family knew what love was at all. 

The love, or lack thereof in Patrick’s family was what shocked you most of all. It was no secret that his father was unnecessarily cruel to all of his children, but particularly to his siblings trying to work their way into more serious positions in the company. Patrick somehow managed to dodge that particular flavor of cruelty, with him very obviously being his father’s favorite and working outside of the family business, but the emotional scars his father left still lingered. 

But his father’s presence didn’t just loom over him, it was beginning to loom over you, too. Not only in the extreme intimidation you felt when having to interact with him, but in the small acts of callousness Patrick showed you throughout the course of your relationship. 

It began as small things, things that bothered you less the more you got used to them. Like how he always seemed to unconsciously belittle your work, not even bothering to seem interested in the recaps you gave of your day before he launched into a story of his own about the candidate he was working with. Though you tried your hardest to fight through your smaller pet peeves with him, Patrick’s inability to be straightforward about his emotions felt like the cherry on top of an already painful sundae.

Regardless of all of the flaws, bumps, and roadblocks in your relationship, you promised to yourself that you would be in Patrick’s corner, no matter how ugly things got or how poorly he treated you. Not only out of your own self-interest, but out of your love for the man, and the knowledge of how difficult his upbringing made certain things for him. 

Which was why when you got the call from Patrick that something had gone terribly wrong with his father while coming back from his birthday celebration, you didn’t hesitate to rush to the hospital, encouraging your driver to speed all the way to the building. 

When you arrived, he and his siblings were in disarray in a way you’d never seen before. His father, who was typically a presence that towered over everyone in the room, was reduced to an old man hooked up to a number of machines. His older sisters, who were always either waiting for the moment to swoop in and make a crude joke or waiting in the wings to discuss the next business strategy, paced back and forth endlessly, clearly feeling the pressure of their sick father.

Patrick sat alone on an uncomfortable chair, peering helplessly into the observation room. It was rare for you to see him with his feelings written so openly across his face, even after years of being in a relationship with him. That concerned you.

You made quick work of walking over to Patrick, whose tensed-up shoulders slightly dropped as you took a seat next to him. Though he wouldn’t ever tell you this, you knew that your presence made him feel more supported and a little more safe, though you being or not being in the hospital clearly wouldn’t have an impact on if his father lived or died. 

“Hey,” he greeted you, immediately squeezing your hand. “Thanks for coming,” he said weakly, as if he was fighting off a new round of tears. In that moment, you so desperately wanted to take some of his emotions for yourself, knowing that Patrick hated feeling any feeling, let alone such negative feelings to such a serious degree. 

“Of course, honey,” you reassured him, running what you hoped would be a grounding hand up and down his arm. “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Water? A snack? I saw that burger place you like on my way over.”

“No, nothing right now,” he sighed. You inspected him cautiously, knowing that he wasn’t exactly one to always say what he meant. “Really,” he assured you, though you didn’t completely buy it. 

Since he wasn’t in the mood for more material items, you decided that the best course of action was a little affection. He wasn’t always the biggest fan of receiving affection in front of his family, but you figured that in a time where he was uncertain if his father would live or die, he would appreciate a little outward support. 

You laid your head on his shoulder and angled your body closer to his. Not expecting any response, you were surprised when Patrick kissed the top of your head. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told you quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’d be in trouble if someone overheard him. 

You held his hand as the two of you sat for hours, only getting up to stretch your legs or take phone calls from friends with insight on other high-end medical facilities that might be able to better accommodate Patrick’s father. 

You did your best to give Patrick his space when he needed it, as he floated between two of his siblings—one of which was focused mainly on the future of the company, and the other in a state of denial about the state of her father—then back to you when he could no longer stand the chaos of his sisters. 

It was a stressful scene, and one that was clearly too much for your boyfriend, who went back and forth between wanting to be glued at your hip, and wanting to be left completely alone. You’d seen Patrick stressed in the past, with him chatting your ear off as he waited for his candidate’s election results, or as he prepared to give a speech at an event, but you’d never seen him like this. 

He almost seemed fragile, like one wrong word or action might break him. It frightened you to see him in such a state. Again, you lamented not being able to take some of his pain for yourself. 

In the time that you waited without any word from any doctors, a few gears began to turn in your mind. Life was so fleeting, which was proven by Patrick’s mighty father falling so seemingly easily. Really, it could’ve been any of you sitting on that table with tubes and monitors attached to you. If it were Patrick who was sitting on that gurney, you would be an absolute wreck. If he somehow died, you also wouldn’t technically be a widow, despite your long-term relationship with the man. 

All of it made you wonder if you should just bite the bullet and propose to Patrick.

Sure, it wasn’t the best timing ever. Sure, you’d always imagined yourself being on the receiving end of a grand proposal, especially from someone like Patrick. But maybe he would appreciate the gesture—giving him a distraction to take away some of his pain, and giving him one final grand milestone with you while his dad was still alive. 

To a lesser extent, being married would provide you with certain protections you didn’t have while you were only his long-term girlfriend. Obviously, you didn’t want to think of anything bad happening to your boyfriend, but accidents and tragedies could happen at any point, and it was better to be prepared than to be sorry. 

It felt right that you might be able to join his family during a time where he was losing a family member. Not only for his sake, but because losing their patriarch meant unprecedented instability in his family. You wanted to be sure of your spot amongst them, after you’d grown used to the privileges that came with being Patrick’s girlfriend. 

You fidgeted with the ring on your middle finger, a family heirloom passed from generation to generation onto you. It was no expensive piece of jewelry, and it certainly wasn’t an engagement ring, but it was incredibly meaningful to you—a symbol of your family, which was extremely important to you. Patrick knew just how much you valued the ring and exactly what it represented to you, so in turn, you hoped that if you gave it to him, he would understand how much he meant to you. 

Getting up from where you’d been sitting for far too long, you began to pace the hallways of the hospital, wondering about the timing of your now imminent proposal. As you shuffled through the sterile building, you surprised yourself as you came across your partner. 

“Patrick!” you said with a start after unexpectedly catching a glimpse of him. 

“Hey,” he greeted unenthusiastically before beginning to walk right past you. 

“Wait,” you grabbed onto his arm before he could fully walk away, encouraging him to look right at you. It was now or never, and the words were on the tip of your tongue. 

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time for this right now,” he dismissed, his voice monotone and listless. 

“You do, though. Patrick, listen,” he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, but was prepared to listen to you anyway. You knew you only had a few seconds to pitch your proposition before you lost him, so you spat out your words rather than beating around the bush. “Let’s get married.”

“What?” he looked at you with brows drawn in confusion. It wasn’t exactly the ideal reaction to your proposal, but then again it wasn’t much of a proposal. “Right now?”

“Obviously not now, but… soon?” as you spoke, you began the process of slipping the ring off your middle finger and attempting to present it to him in the palm of your hand. Sure, it wasn’t the most romantic or put together proposal, but it felt right to be offering him such a grand and personal gesture while everything else was going sideways in his life. 

“I know it’s probably not the best time, but I thought that maybe I could make things a little better with your dad and… I don’t know. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If something ever happened to you, I wouldn’t want to wonder about what we could’ve been and-” you rambled on before you were interrupted with a sigh. 

“Honey, you can’t just make my dad dying better,” he rubbed his temple exasperatedly, then looked between you and the ring you were presenting him with. “If you wanted to make me feel better, you should’ve just brought me coffee.”

You frowned at him, knowing that you’d offered him that very thing earlier and he turned you down. You wondered if your communication would ever improve—or if it even needed to improve, since this proposal was going so poorly that you’d probably leave the hospital single. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you closed your palm and put your hand in the pocket of your jacket, fully prepared for Patrick to tell you to fuck all the way off. It had been stupid for you to think that Patrick would appreciate such a grand gesture during such a terrible time. 

“Wait,” Patrick stopped you, now reaching for your arm. “My answer isn’t a no, it’s just… I don’t want this to be the memory. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Doing all the work of getting your hand out of your pocket, he grabbed the ring you presented him with to further prove his words and slipped it on his ringer. It only fit halfway down his finger, but he kept it on regardless. 

“Really?” you said, suddenly perking up.

“Duh,” he replied, looking a little shy as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he briefly looked away from you, as if his feelings were so strong that he couldn’t even manage to look you in the eye. 

You couldn’t contain your excitement at his answer, jumping and squealing a little bit as you pulled him into an overly enthusiastic hug. You heard the familiar sound of Patrick laughing quietly in your ear as you squeezed him. Though he always seemed to hold back his emotions, you knew that he was just as excited as you were to be promised to one another.

You pulled him into a soft kiss, draping your arms around his neck, holding him as close as you could until he inevitably pushed you away. 

Patrick surprised you with how long he was willing to embrace you, clearly in need of a little bit of comfort after such an emotionally exhausting night. You surprised yourself when you ended up being the person to pull away. 

“Should we go check on our family?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement around finally being in. 

“I just need a second,” he told you, glancing down the hallway before pulling you into yet another embrace. He pressed his face into your hair, soothing himself with your scent and presence. You rubbed circles into his back and muttered something about him taking all the time he needed.

You were interrupted by one of Patrick’s sisters, whose voice called out your names down the hallway. “When you two are finished with your snuggle-fest, the doctor has news for us.”

“Wait, what?” Patrick pushed you away quickly, his tune changing in an instant.

“Good news, I think. But move your asses. C’mon,” she directed, already turning away and Patrick quickly following her. 

If you were experiencing an emotional rollercoaster, you couldn’t even begin to understand how Patrick was feeling. Finding out his dad was sick, being proposed to, and immediately hearing more news about his father in the span of just a few hours must’ve felt unreal. 

You sat quietly and observed from the sidelines as a doctor took them into their father’s room and filled in the siblings on the state of him. They all seemed to share a collective sigh of relief, and though you couldn’t hear the exact news from where you were sitting, you knew that it must’ve been good. 

When Patrick came back to you, he had a hint of a sad smile on his face. “Ready to go?” he asked you. 

He didn’t need you to ask twice. You were more than prepared to escape the too-bright lights, sickeningly sterile scent, and the feeling of sadness that seemed to be hanging in the air of the hospital. 

Your driver was a welcome sight, with him giving you a quiet greeting as the two of you got in the backseat of the car. As he drove, Patrick reached for your hand, which you gladly gave up to him. 

In the following minutes, Patrick crept over further into your space until he sat directly beside you, leaning his head on you with his eyes closed. The long day was surely taking its toll, with the anxiety of his dad being in such dire straits, and the excitement and confusion of you proposing to him. 

His sleep was well earned. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then closed your own eyes, letting the soft sound of the early morning city traffic lull you to sleep. 

In the following days, you could tell that something wasn’t quite right with Patrick. At first, you chalked it up to nerves around his father’s health, but that didn’t seem to be it. Typically, when Patrick was really anxious about something, his silence on the elephant-sized topic gave him away. While you’d heard quite a bit about the state of his father from him—whether it was an update sent to him by his step-mother or an actual visit to the man—you hadn’t heard a peep about your engagement since the day after you got engaged. 

On the other hand, you were struggling to keep the news to yourself, despite the request of Patrick. You wanted to scream the announcement from the rooftops, but in the early morning after you returned from the hospital, Patrick made his position very clear: Wait a little while for things to blow over before you started telling people– your friends and family included. 

Despite the fact that he wore your ring every day since the day that you’d given it to him, something about his behavior told you that it was that very ring that was giving him so much internal conflict. 

In the past few years of knowing Patrick, you learned that he was a bit of a control freak. You wondered how out of control it made him feel for you to be the person to propose to him. Part of you wondered if you should’ve even proposed in the first place if it was going to be an issue. Maybe you should’ve let him do things on his own timeline, rather than making him feel nervous or insecure in your relationship.

But at the same time, Patrick initially seemed rather entertained by the idea of you getting married. In the morning after your engagement, he couldn’t stop referring to you as Mrs. Zweig. At the desk of your brand new office, given to you after a serious promotion, you found a box of expensive chocolates with a note fondly referring to you as his fiancé. As you laid next to him in bed that night, he pulled up the profiles of three separate wedding planners and asked you about your preference in people. 

It almost felt like his feelings on your engagement were constantly fluctuating between being excited to be with you forever, and being terrified of that very commitment. Things weren’t made any better by Patrick’s professional-level ability to dodge questions, especially questions related to how he genuinely felt. 

“C’mon, you know how I feel,” he replied to you after you directly asked him over breakfast. He lifted his mug casually, subconsciously putting space between the two of you. 

“Pat, I don’t. That’s why I asked,” you forced out a laugh, though the situation wasn’t exactly funny to you. If Patrick didn’t want to marry you, you didn’t want to force him to do so. 

“But you always know how I feel,” he said with a bit of a pout and a whine—what you called his ‘let me get away with it’ demeanor that he often used with his family—before setting down his coffee and standing up. 

“Not this time,” you explained, standing up as well and abandoning the plate of half-eaten eggs in front of you. 

“You’ll figure it out,” he dismissed your concerns and stepped close enough to you to hold your face in both of his hands. 

“Love you?” you asked, hoping that if he could confirm that at the very least, you might have a better understanding of what was going through his head. 

“Of course,” he said genuinely, though he didn’t offer you any parroting of those words. Instead, he dropped his hands from your cheeks and kissed one of them. “Have a good day at work, okay?” 

“Yeah. Thanks,” you tried not to look as annoyed as you actually felt as you made quick work of grabbing your work bag and leaving. You needed some time to make sense of it all. 

The situation only became more complicated as you sat down in a conference room, mentally preparing yourself to make your first big presentation as the newly vetted Head of Parks and Cruises division. You cared greatly about what your peers thought about you, so you couldn’t deny the nerves running through your veins. 

These nerves only increased when you caught a glimpse of Patrick from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the conference room, shaking hands with people on your floor and clearly making cordial small talk. 

You desperately hoped that he was there to wish you luck on your presentation, and not to pick your conversation from the morning back up. You bitterly thought about how he couldn’t have picked a worse time as he waved at you from the window. You stiffly waved back, not exactly in the mood to be interrupted right before a big presentation. 

“Hey, if I don’t make it back for whatever reason, you can do this presentation, right?” you asked quietly, leaning into your newly-hired assistant’s ear. 

“Wait, what?” he asked you, brows furrowing. “I don’t know, I haven’t practiced or anything, and-“

“Perfect,” you replied, not listening to a single word he was rambling out. “Just read off the slides. You’ll be okay.”

You didn’t bother staying to listen to Art ramble in your ear about how he didn’t know what he was doing. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be the one presenting, and if he absolutely had to, he’d probably be fine. 

You shut the door behind you, politely waving at one of your co-workers as they entered the conference room. You made your way to Patrick and stood with your arms crossed against your chest, trying to strike a good balance between showing him how agitated you were, and not trying to further agitate your fiancé, who seemed to be in a particularly fragile mental state lately. 

“Hi honey, is anything important going on?” Patrick asked once you stood across from him. 

“Actually, yeah. Is there any way we could chat a little later? Like maybe an hour or two?” you suggested. “I can block some time off on my calendar for you and everything.”

“I’m sure whatever it is isn’t more important than this,” he glanced over at the conference room as he spoke to demonstrate his point. You wished you could explain to him how far that was from the truth.

“What is it?” you asked, your patience beginning to grow thin.

“You’ll have to see. Come with me?” he offered. 

“Patrick, I’m in the middle of a meeting!” you whisper-shouted, trying to keep your voice down and your body language mostly neutral, so your colleagues couldn’t observe how much you were freaking out as you talked to your partner. 

“It hasn’t started yet,” he dismissed casually. “They’ll be fine without you. I won’t be fine without you.”

You eyed him suspiciously. 

“Please,” he added, as if you’d ever be able to say no to him—though you were pretty tempted to do so. 

“Fine,” you gave in with a small, soft sigh. That didn’t deter Patrick at all, who seemed uncharacteristically excited as the two of you sat in the backseat of his car. 

“So where are we going? Or, what are we doing?” you asked, trying to ignore the terrible feeling in your gut that you felt about leaving your meeting. 

“It’s a surprise,” Patrick said coyly. “It’ll be more fun than that meeting, though.”

“I’m sure,” you replied, looking out the window. You hoped that whatever romantic gesture Patrick planned would be worth losing the respect of all of your peers. You wondered what you could tell them that would make your absence seem acceptable. Family emergency? It wasn’t exactly a lie. It wasn’t quite the truth either. 

When your ride stopped and you stepped out of the vehicle, you were surprised to find yourself at the diner that you spent the majority of your first few dates at, splitting pieces of pie and talking each other’s ears off for hours. 

“Craving some cherry pie?” you asked him curiously. Obviously, this seemed like a task he could’ve handled on his own, coming to the diner himself or having his driver buy and deliver him a whole pie, but you figured that maybe he was simply in the mood for some nostalgic comfort. In the midst of such chaos, you would be happy to give that to him. 

“It’s been too long,” he shrugged before grabbing your hand.

Patrick led you to the booth that you declared as yours all those years ago, and began to chat your ear off like normal. While you wanted to think about work, it was surprisingly easy to forget about the real world when you were in such a nostalgic place with him. 

The two of you ordered your old usual order, only enhancing the feeling of nostalgia as you shared a plate of painfully average pancakes and a slice of cherry pie.

“Ew, what is that?” you laughed after you bit into something hard and gross. “This fucking place,” you muttered, looking for a napkin that you could spit out whatever it was that you almost just consumed. 

When you glanced down at the napkin, you were shocked to find what looked like a metal ring covered in cherry syrup. “Oh shit. Do you think this belonged to someone?” 

Once you looked up, you were shocked to find Patrick holding a black velvet box, one that you’d seen before nearly a year ago as you deep-cleaned your shared bedroom, one that you chalked up as a gift for his mother or a friend. 

“Patrick?” you asked, clearly confused. He parroted your name right back to you and opened up the box, showing you one of the most beautiful rings you ever laid your eyes on. 

Suddenly, it made sense why he asked you to come out with him, interrupting you in the middle of the day to take you to a diner where you shared so many memories. Sure, he could’ve waited until you got off work, but you figured he was thinking about your conversation from the morning and wanted to do something that would show you how much he truly cared about you. He’d always been better at bigger gestures than verbally sharing his feelings, so part of you remained unsurprised. 

“I first fell in love with you here, so it only felt right to bring you back here to ask you to marry me?” he explained, not breaking eye contact with you. He was never one for a soapbox when it came to sharing his feelings, so his proposal was short and straight to the point. Though, you wondered if he had more words prepared that he simply couldn’t get out. Based on the speed of his leg bouncing under the table, you knew that Patrick was nervous out of his mind—despite him already knowing what your answer was. 

You recalled what Patrick told you in the hospital about not wanting your proposal to be the memory—the memory you told others about when you shared the news, or fondly recalled to your kids in ten years when you reminisced on your love story. 

If accepting his proposal now, and acting like his proposal was the only proposal made him feel better, you didn’t see any reason why you wouldn’t fully lean into it.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, genuinely being surprised at the offer, but playing up your excitement for the sake of your nervous fiancé. “Of course I’ll marry you, Pat.”

Patrick broke into a toothy grin, his excitement contagious to you. “Give me your hand,” he directed, taking the ring out of the box. 

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and it somehow looked even better on your finger than it did in the box. You looked at it in amazement curling and uncurling your hand to look at the ring from all of its angles. 

“It’s gorgeous, Patrick. Thank you,” you told him earnestly as you looked from your hand to him. You weren’t surprised by the quality of the ring or even that he found something that you liked so much. Growing up with lavish gifts constantly being given as an expression of ‘love’ made Patrick pretty damn good at giving you gifts. As for the other expressions of love… he wasn’t the best. But he was very obviously trying his best for you, and you loved that about him. 

In some ways, your proposals felt like the perfect encapsulation of your roles in your relationship. While you offered Patrick a ring with little monetary, but high emotional value, he gave you a ring that was probably more expensive than you could ever fathom, that didn’t have the same emotional ties that your family heirloom of a ring did. 

Beyond the appearance or symbolism behind your rings, and despite your very different proposals, you were ecstatic to be engaged to Patrick. It only felt right that after years of loving the man, you two were finally making things official in the legal sense. 

As you peered at your shyly smiling fiancé, you couldn’t help but break out into a grin yourself. You underestimated just how exciting it would be for you to be starting a new chapter of your relationship. 

[yangcherie]

play chase

pairing: ascended!astarion / spawn!tav (reader.)

content warnings: female reader, dubcon, briefest references to age gap (c’mon, he’s 200 years old), power imbalance, forced dependency, abuse. cunnilingus. mentions of death. references to cannibalism. abuse. ascended astarion things, except he’s a bit nicer.

sypnosis: astarion has been having an immensely difficult time taming you; his newly-turned bride-to-be. he believes a lesson about obedience is well overdue. so he fucks you before the honeymoon.

author’s note: ugh. this was messy. like immensely messy im so sorry i just lost interest in this fandom but thought id still finish this up. hope you guys enjoy btw tav is feral here like Kinda i guess? ignore the plotholes or i rob ur house angry face emoji here

“Little one.” Astarion carolled, hoping he sounded just genuine enough to coax you out of wherever you’ve tucked yourself into like a feral animal. You’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar, after all. “Sweet thing. Whatever you’re playing at, it’s time to put an end to it.”

He hopes the restlessness doesn’t bleed through his voice; having walked and stalked through what felt like the very entirety of his former master’s palace – now claimed by none other than himself. It only felt right to do so after his ascension, in the same vein he claimed you as his own. The manor is a wretched thing – but so were you. He would come to love it in time; as he had with you.

He felt like a fool right now with the way he was practically just going to rot away waiting for you to either crawl out or hiding spot (which was never) or to hear you slip up, shuffle around or screech just loud enough that he could catch the sound in his fingers and hunt you down.

You’ve fallen into much troublesome, teasing habits, including hiding away from him or viciously teething and ripping at whatever caught your eye — and Astarion doesn’t have the slightest idea on why or how — but he could excuse it. Decades of cruelty have also taught him mercy, despite having lacked it.

All the furniture you would violently break apart into splinters? You must’ve been teething, and this hideous manor desperately needs a renovation, anyway. The troublesome amount of tear and rip and fray of fabric in curtains, clotheswear and sheets alike? You’re simply due for a trimming on your claws, and again, the manor needs a renovation. Your incessant disturbances of racket and noise during the occasions he’d bring nobles over? His poor, needy wife must’ve been feeling neglected – and that alone is a perfect reason for him to usher away any unwanted guests.

(It honestly did him more good than you knew.)

Astarion could not only excuse and enjoy it, all your petty, feral little acts of disobedience – but he’s also dedicated nearly half his time to provide you gratification. You needed teething? Fine, expect to be fed with ambrosian blood; be it by kegs of it at your bedside, or drunkards thrown at your feet, paralyzed with alcohol and terror, all but open for you to forcefully dig and tear out their throats and drink in their dwindling life. He’d even dab at your face with a handkerchief after.

Couldn’t control your claws? He’s provided you toys to rough up and chew into — himself included, of course; if the never-bite marks beneath his collar were anything to go by. And if you were good enough, willing to paw at and prop your chin on his clothed thigh to prettily stare at him with roseate, cherub eyes; he’d take you hunting with the given main course or prey being deers, goats or nobles who couldn’t be swayed to his upcoming reign.

And if his other efforts to be of no avail, he could always do with his last but favorite method of calming you down; exerting his dominance with his own fangs wounding the muted skin of your throat to keep you still as he gives you a good fucking – just hard enough to keep you content from acting out for the next few days.

Astarion had done his utmost to be considerate. You were a fledgling; still adjusting to the intricacies that came with your newly-gifted vampirism. He was all but destructive during his first years as a spawn, as well. He could excuse it, all this disrespect, this ingratitude to his affections. Really! It just had to be a good day.

And to the fucking Nines, today was not a good day.

Right now, he was nothing short of frustrated. Frustrated with his idiotic thralls, with having to deal with posh aristocrat fools to establish his reign over the Gate, with the fabric of his shirt – all of it! And now he has to be frustrated with you, as well? All he yearnt for was to be soothed by none other than you, but even this you would pettily keep out from his reach?

The manor is stretched far and wide, generous; much unlike the fraying thread that is his patience. He licks his teeth, brows furrowing – legs aching just the slightest. You couldn’t behave for just today, could you? Always needing to test him to keep you in line.

You could’ve simply drained and massacred the enthralled nobles in his dungeons, or lay waste to yet another room in the palace and he wouldn’t have given much of a damn, but no, instead, you’ve decided to play hard to get and hide yourself away from him when he needs you most.

“Dearest.” Astarion grits out, an exasperated groan stuck in his throat. The heel of his boots thudding against the cobble is all he’s heard for hours, in his search of you. He might just raze down the entire manor if it meant you’d come out. “I am in no mood to be entertaining your tantrums.”

A wearisome ache begins to swarm his temples, coaxing a sigh from him. He can just envision it, in whatever hole you’ve tucked yourself in lays the ripped ivory tulle fabric of yet another gown alongside the vast amount you’ve already ravaged. It’s all you’ve been tearing at since he’s arranged your bethrothment with him – and his enthralled tailors aren’t very willing to oblige him and sew another.

He swears on the fucking ragdoll he will make out of you once he finds you that this time, you will not go unpunished. He has been lenient, and he was no fool; he could tell instinct and intent apart. Whatever game you were playing at, Astarion would let you know he didn’t like it in the slightest. First, you deny him of your presence and then you deny him of his right to wed you. What a little demon you are.

But it seems even you were getting restless in your own petty little game, he thought so smugly, as a hiss so unmistakably yours laden with offense and the impact of ceramic against the ground bounced off the opulent hallway making him sharply turn his body around to follow the sound. You never quite had the knack to keep quiet as a rogue like himself could, even before the feral inanity that clouds you now. It’s not long before he’s behind yet another bedroom out of hundreds in the palace and twisting the rusted doorknob.

It creaks open, Astarion pursing his lips as he steps inside – just to be hit with the pungent stench of blood and a mess littered that told him you indeed were in the room. A good hint; the hint being a gutted body of what he could only assume was a servant crumpled on the floor, who with no doubt you hurled actoss the room once you had forcefully drained your fill of.

His nose wrinkled at the sight. He ought to teach you something about manners on not playing with your food, after he catches you.

“Little pup?” He stalks through the room, briefly kicking the body aside and glancing at the two puncture holes on its neck. If you were hungry, you simply could’ve asked.

It’s a dreary scene, the room a relic of neglect worth centuries. Moth-eaten curtains spotted with fresh blood, rusted chandeliers rickety with dust. Dreary as it was, he had no doubt this is one of the rooms he’s used to bed many a victim.

He briefly wonders if you even bedded the servant before draining him.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...”

There’s a subtle shuffle, a little, pathetic bleat of a hiss to his call, just below the old, yellowed canopy bed in the very center of the room. The space between his brows pinch as he approaches the dingy canopy and drops to his knees to peer below, batting at the dust that assaults his senses.

Craning his neck downwards, peering below the bed, he’s fixed with your beady, red stare – and it startles Astarion more than he’d like to admit.

Something weary between a growl and a sigh comes out of him when he wills himself to tear his gaze away from your unnerving eyes and across the entirety of your body; you’re filthy, with flaky remains of gore and scratches, cobwebs stuck to your hair and soot stuck to your skin. He quietly groans, filled with just enough irritation that your beady eyes bat him a blink so innocent and faultless that he’s rather tempted to bend you over his lap and paddle you —

But it was futile to scold you. He knows it, that you wouldn’t understand – had made sure your senses would dwindle, like a honed knife being whittled to dullness. Slowly but surely being to forced to rely on base instincts. He always thought you to be too smart for your own good, and he couldn’t have you thinking you could leave him in the dust, no, no.

(And, well, if you ever did, he doubt the ghouls that follow his word like law would let you through any door out, anyway.)

Futile as it is it to scold you, it’s easier to let his irritation roll over him in waves sear him like boiling water.

“You insolent brat, you.” Astarion hisses, batting his hand in a motion that tells you to get out and up. It’s with an infuriating obedience that you follow, one that casts something bitter to brew in him. Where was that earlier? He roughly wrenches you out by your wrist, dragging you up to your feet to meet his infuriated eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you, you fucking–?”

You hiss at the touch, nose scrunched and teeth bared enough to show gums – your free hand flying out to grip his wrist to dig your untrimmed nails into his skin just as he did with you. He raises a brow, unamused. Perhaps he should have felt offended the way you thought you could just behave like an animal and disrespect him like that. Perhaps he really should go and dig the heel in, let you sink in the fall from pride to humiliation of being paddled.

“You think you’re hilarious, hm? Quit acting like an animal.” Astarion huffs indignantly, disregarding a small part of him wanting to croon at you in the same manner one would with a feral thing. You need discipline and gods damn him if he did not provide that. He wrenches his wrist out of your clawed fingers, glaring. If you were some stranger, he’d feel inclined to spit on you. “Or I’ll drain you like one.”

It’s a lie, a petty one at that, and you seem to know it as it only pulls another one of those sounds out you; one more grating and animalistic than the last, one that makes him bare his own teeth at you. The threat is as petty as it is tragic, a reminder of what you’ve given up to him beyond your blood – your soul, your mortality.

He’s had his fill of you since the night you turned, since he sunk his teeth into the very marrow of your being and drained you for all you were worth. He swallowed you with a hunger that could burn out even the sun itself. You could not believe that on that night, the night he had killed you, the soft, benign hands keeping your head from hitting the hard floor were of the same body with the mouth and teeth that snuffed your light straight out.

(You died being held in his arms; whether it was to keep you still, keep you there unable to jerk away from death or to keep you comforted, you never found out. You didn’t want to.)

When you awoke, it was no longer his teeth that speared through you next but loss and hunger, a mind-numbing, mingling pit in your stomach. You woke up with grief knowing you were no longer who you once were.

Astarion has an intimate relationship with hunger, true and daunting hunger. And no nobles’ blood, no sheep, bear, boar nor lamb can fix it.

It will not leave him, and it will not leave you.

“I’ll have you know you look delectable right now.” He hisses through his teeth, something burning all hot, ugly and hungry in his stomach. It’s the way he says it that has you backing down, meeting his eyes with a glare of your own before tentatively softening; allowing him to touch you. In a time before now, he would have said it teasingly, as your lover, your man. Near a warm fire, pinned to the ground with your hair splayed and a summer solstice grin.

But now, he is more hunger than man.

(You suppose you are too.)

He stares you down, the dip of your collarbones, the slope of your hips, the slightest cinch of your waist, your lips, all doused in some servant’s blood. The scent of it with yours wafts out and beckons to him. Spanning his fingers over the stiffened slopes of your bare shoulders, he finds the knots he’ll have to work and ease over with floral oils later on during bedtime.

In your feral head, it feels as if he’s fondling the meat on your shoulder. Prodding at the softest spots, finding which would taste best.

His fingers leave your shoulder in favor of returning to your wrist, pulling taut at it to lead you out the dryrotting room and into those intricate halls, turning left, right, right, left, straight until you’re stumbling into his personal chambers, his soft canopy bed and sinking into his mattress with enough space between your parted legs that he takes the chance to crawl towards and tuck himself in.

He pushes his lips to yours, kisses you dizzy, tongue fighting a battle with yours. The bed is downy soft beneath you when you melt into it and dig your nails in, heeded by instinct as he pins you against them with ease. The air feels hotter, when he pulls away with silken strands of spit between you two, splitting when he dips back downwards to lay his head on your stomach, circling his arms around your hips to keep you still as he noses around the softness of your stomach.

“Stay still.” He rasps, throaty enough you feel inclined to begrudingly listen and settle down with a growl stuck behind your teeth. “This is just something to make you relax.”

It’s not entirely a lie, he thinks to himself. Nowadays, he only ever beds you if he sees you need to be put into your place or to be sedated. You’re not exactly as smart as you used to be.

He kisses his way down; trails little licks and bites over your stomach, lowering to the jolting of your hips, to the swell of your thighs. Moves a hand to fondle your calves and returning it to join the arms still locked around your hips, using his head to gently nudge your legs a bit wider and teeth to lift up the chiffon dress pillowing around your legs, lingering on your calf; to settle his lips on your clothed mound.

A protestant, breathy noise comes out of you when his mouth ghosts your clothed clit, and he grumbles at it; tugging at the flimsy fabric until it delicately finds its place on the floor.

The cold, dusty, evening air wraps around your clit, the muscles in your legs tightening with the amount of whatever strength you have to use to avoid clamping around his head when he kisses it briefly but so sweetly that an uneasy expression makes home on your face.

A dreadful shiver shoots an arrow straight through your spine then, when that one intimate kiss at your bundle of nerves turns into two, then three, until all that fight and spark in you has been stomped out and worn out into the dirt. Despite that senseless fog that clouds your head, you remain soft and still, legs open and unclamping around his head with the indomitable fear he’d do something less... gratifying than this.

That kiss turns into stripe licked up your clit, a shaky breath forced out of you once again. He gently pulls you closer, just a breathswidth from your fluttering entrance.

You wonder if he feels the way you stiffen under his hands, if he mistakes the way your hips rock as wanting more instead of trying to run away.

“Be good,” he murmurs, breath hot and voice lazy. “and everything else will follow...”

A spawn’s desire to follow their master is something even the likes of you cannot help but submit to, and so with a rough grunt, you finally let loose your tense muscles just enough to let Astarion pull you gently down, to fully ease you on his mouth — so he can really give you that relaxation.

He runs the tip of his tongue over your clit, laving around it and allowing himself a lazy glance up when you abruptly sit up and thread a hand through his hair, chest stuck in a growling air you struggle to take in. Rough as it is, it also sounds lewd – and it’s music pretty enough that he hums and closes his eyes shut, rewarding you with flicks and sucks on the sensitive little thing that only makes you tighten your grip around his perfect curls and dig into his scalp.

A moan can’t be stopped from slithering its way out your mouth, your shoulders working itself lower and the crease between your eyebrows letting up. He wasn’t lying, it feels good, you begrudingly think and huffing in an effort to hide your moan and keep the current of anger from diminishing under pleasure. You find it easy to keep grappling onto it when you feel him crookededly smile against the flesh of you, as if the idea of you adamantly resisting was theatrical and hilarious.

His tongue leaves your clit, delving into your hole and squirming against your walls in a way that has your ears ringing, hand still in his hair. Your eyes shut tight.

You hate him, you think. Hate how he makes you feel this way, makes you feel so alive despite being anything but. And you especially hate yourself for the sharp heat that tugs at your stomach, a thinly-veiled frenzy arching over you.

Ever since the undeath of you, you’ve lacked control; and it’s no easy feat to defy the oncoming slaught of pleasure about to wash over you. Not when his tongue laves around your slick clit in such a way that it makes you throw your head back and dig your heels into his back. So with a moan caged low behind your throat, you convulse, coming in his mouth when you wished for anything but.

“See what being good gets you?” He pulls away and coos at you with his teeth and lips shining, savoring you as if you were just the sweetest pomegranate out there. Your chest heaves as you come down from the high, so weakly throwing him a glare that attests to your damaged pride.

Your eyes flicker around his face and his hands, expecting him to move back and let up, having had his fill of you. But he doesn’t move back, no, he stays smiling at you, lets himself be busied by the frantic pattern of rise and fall by your chest — by the fact you breathe by habit even when you no longer need to.

Your throat bobs; his eyes are quick to narrow and trace the movement.

“You,” you rasp, you speak, the conciousness you fight to grapple on a rope so quickly fraying. Astarion’s smile stretches into a mean, mean grin that makes your skin crawl. “You’re done.”

Your head tricks you into thinking you lack the breath to make the questioning lilt in your words, so it comes out as a demand. One you’re not very sure he takes to kindly.

“Adorable!” He giggles, tapping the tip of your nose. “Silly. No, we aren’t.”

“And you,” Astarion coos again, meaner, reaching out with slick fingers to dig into your cheeks whilst ignoring your flinch and bared teeth. He squeezes your face and patronizingly moves it around as if afflicted with cuteness aggression, like an owner unable to believe his pet wants him to stop giving it pets. “You don’t get to make the demands around here. I–”

He pulls your face closer, his breath fanning your face.

“I do.” He snarls. You give him one back twice as malicious, sharp fingers flying to grip the hand that holds your face captive. “I make the fucking demands around here and you– you listen, and you do what I tell you to do because I—”

He inhales a sharp intake of breath, the fingers on your face digging in just further enough it starts to hurt.

“Honestly, dear.” He laughs like the idea of you having command over him is the funniest thing in the world, but the sound is so taut and forced. A display of theatrics. “If there’s anyone out here worth listening to, it’s me!”

Astarion doesn’t let go much to your dismay, watching you so keenly, drinking in your pain – and you start to hiss when his fingers don’t cease the tightening grip on your face, forcing you back into that instinctive, protective shell. It’s all a blur when you plant your two feet on his chest and kicking him with all your force, knocking him back just a mere distance away, still on the bed but further. He merely scoffs, moreso annoyed than pained, quick to get back on his knees and crawling towards you yet again. His hands grip the comforter, fingertips digging into the softness as he grits his teeth.

“No– no, no, don’t you dare.” Astarion brattily tugs at you, like you’re his favorite toy, until you’re situated beneath him once more, scratching and squirming about. “You will not not run away from me!”

“Not when I’ve been so kind to you,” he spat. It’s between a grit and tease when he says it, and now that he’s between your legs again, he grinds his clothed hips against your cunt. “And I’ve been busy making dresses for you, you know, when really I should be making leashes.”

He offhandedly mentions with a sneer and as if to help visualize the collar, his strong hand goes to wrap around your throat – squeezing just hard enough your breath leaves you all at once. Your mouth gapes open then, floundering to claw at his wrist.

“What do you think?” Astarion laughs, mean, mean, mean. Another hand goes to unbuckle his belt, the leather of his pants sliding off and making brief but chilling contact with your thighs. “Would you prefer it with a chain?”

Black dots around the edges of your vision, with the hand on your throat and the dwindling air in your chest, you cannot muster any disapproving sound to his words – and as if to punish you for your silence, he tightens his grip until you’re sure that the skin would be bruised purple and pretty underneath for days. And he watches you, like you’re some form of entertainment, floundering and wincing about for merciful air, distracted enough you don’t notice the heat of his cockhead pressing against your pulsing opening.

Distracted enough you don’t notice with how you’re squirming about for air, you’re grinding yourself against his cockhead.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

Whilst you’re busy thinking if this is it, this is the fucking end of it all; you’ll be found dead on the master’s bed in the morning, indecent, monstrous even without a stake in your heart but with blue and purple around your neck instead, Astarion’s attention was charmed like a moth to flame with how you don’t seem to notice you’re still so alive despite having sunken his teeth into your neck and given you his blood.

How you don’t seem to notice that in being undead, you do not even need to breathe anymore. How still you look for the air even unneeded.

Entertained, Astarion hums and releases your throat, settling his hands on your knees as he watches you sputter and cough as the air hits you like debris. The pain in your chest as you take in the missing air is pure catharsis.

“Yes...” He whispers moreso to himself than you, nudging his cockhead against your opening – slick with his spit. “Perhaps a chain would look better than jewelry.”

And with that, he pushes into you with a low hiss, moving slowly enough that you feel the veins and the pulsing of him even as you focus on gasping for air, the pit in your stomach dreadful and the crawl up your spine pleasured. When it feels like he’s snug inside your guts all buried inside, he leans forward and catches your lips into a terribly one-sided kiss. It makes his cock nudge further inside and you flinch from the dull, familiar ache of it all.

“Fuck,” Astarion gasps hot against your mouth and pulls away with a string of spit, slowly dragging his hips and pulling back to watch his length move out your cunt. He slams it back in and you want to shriek but you bite your tongue instead, hating how he deep he is inside of you and how slow he is – like he’s trying to get your walls to take his shape. “—I wish you were always this good for me, little mouse.”

Pleasure is so cruel to you, bowing heavy against your spine as it forces you to arch, forces your legs to spread and take in his cock deeper. Something groaning guttural crawls its way out your throat as you clench your eyes tight and twist the sheets in your fist as you’re thrown gracelessly into the ever-tightening jaw of ecstasy. Your legs shake with a tremor to it, feeling his hand ghost over your hip.

He pulls back again; and slams back inside. Over and over and over again until you feel like you’re turning mad yet again, sweat beading at your forehead and sounds not so easily beckoned now tumbling out your mouth.

You once foolishly thought that with being undead comes the death of sensation in your body – the way your body flinches and burns so alive with every strong nudge of his cockhead into you just proves you so wrong. Sparks fly across your body like rocks trying to make fire when with every collision of his hips against yours, the base of his cock grinds so deliciously against your sensitive, reddened clit.

One particularly rough slam of his hips has you keening; the soft curls on his base bumping your bundle of nerves in a way that has you keening into him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down, closer and closer until you feel so utterly consumed by him in the same way you did that wretched night.

Another sound, one so feral and from the heart is forced out of you when his hips stutter teasingly, a moan so out of place from a voice unused and locked away when your stomach all but tightens when that thrust forces your hole to slacken and his cock to nudge at something so soft and delicate inside your walls. And you shriek like a murdered woman when he laughs so mean and thrusts even meaner.

He continues to thrust, thrust and thrust like some bully to that one little spongy spot, groaning st your little moan-shrieks. Your mouth stretches into a scowl as your teeth mash together in an effort to sweat through the pure pleasure that swarms your head and makes you see dots, only vaguely aware of the slick foam that runs down your thighs. All purely and humilatingly your arousal.

“A-Astarion,” You raspily grit out, locking your bruised knees around his hips and feeling a pleasant soreness bloom amongst yours when he gives you a response by driving in harder, tracing your throat as you throw your head back. “Astarion.”

Smooth fingers trace your neck before running up your cheek, dragging at the chub of it until your lips are apart and no longer are you scowling nor your teeth gnawing. “What?” Astarion murmurs, slurred and drunkenly kissing away the sweat that’s gathered like freshwater rain on your throat.

You open your eyes, blinking away the sting of tears and sweat mingling – and Astarion looks so godsent, romantic with his own teeth gritted and sweat down his arms as he piledrives into you.

You won’t last – you feel it the way your body is twitching with the exhaustion it takes to build up an orgasm, core burning even with the friction of slick inside. Astarion doesn’t need to be told, so very familiar with your body even in its death; so he dutifully lifts a hand from your hip and gently snakes it towards the in-between, towards your warm pussy until he finds your sensitive little button, circling the pulsing bud immediately and fondly laughing when your legs uncoil around his hips, and you shriek, squirming like you’re about to get murdered a second time. Your mind is fucking melting.

“Astarion,” you choke out, again, this time, more desperately, hand flinging out to grip at his wrist between your legs. His thrusting stutters as your voice breaks and your pretty eyes roll behind your head. “Y-you’re gonna fucking kill me, oh—”

“Don’t be a c-coward, darling.” Astarion is breathless, brows furrowing. He’s close too.

You pant.

You’re about to pop at the seams.

Your tongue lolls with every breath that heaves your chest, the ring of your entrance so tight around his cock as your body trembles with every feverish snap of hips and rub of his fingers against your red, abused bundle of nerves. The sound of slick flesh on flesh so obscene, you feel your body trembling as you throw your head back to the undercurrent of an orgasm — so strong it has white flashing hot behind your eyelids and a final, ragged whimper coming from you.

It only takes a few moments for him to catch up, his hips chasing your clenching as he throbs, pulsing once, twice against your walls until he’s spilling into them with his own warmth, contentedly sighing into the crook of your neck whilst you wince and whine lowly with satisfaction.

You both stay there, unmoving, until the warm semen that runs down your thighs turns cold enough that Astarion feels he should move, slipping out your hole and letting his member hit the cold air as he hisses, sensitive. And apparently, you’re rudely startled awake out of your pliancy with the sound, tensing up like you’re about to run again. He notices before you can and kisses you stupid, lips smacking noisily with yours in a way teasing lovers would do so, before pulling away with a grin and setting you still on the bed with the weight of a blanket on you.

“Oh, no, no, none of that tonight.” You try to wrack a hiss out your scratchy throat – but it comes out as a humiliatingly feeble cough. Astarion, endeared, smiles at it and pecks your forehead, bringing the blanket up to your chin by habit as he once used to when you were sleeping in tents, under nights and by fires. “You’re always running away, you little hellion, you.”

He’s tucking you in.

He’s tucking you in.

He’s an asshole, you think. He must be teasing you. With being undead comes the inability to sleep a wink – only being able to go as far as meditation. And by the gods, you do not want to be stuck thinking of how you just let the man you despise drive his cock and seed into you – and how he’ll do it over and over again if it means you’ll stop acting out for a night or two.

Astarion eyes you, giving you a once-over as if to size up if you’d take your chances and run away. You don’t budge, narrowing your heavy eyes at him and blinking blearily, shifting in the sheets, unwilling to admit to yourself how you like the molten warmth you feel when he looks at you attentively, the warmth that runs down your inner thigh and the warmth of the blankets tucked so nicely around you. He smiles again, smoothing a hand over your hair and lowly murmuring something about cleaning you up later at night where you’re more awake and hopefully, preferably not a bat hanging off the ceiling staring at him with beady eyes.

He hums then – reassured, standing up from the bed with a creak and reaching into the drawer beside his bed for a flimsy pair of thin, reading glasses he wears.

“Be good, and stay here, okay?” He lowly coos, like a husband leaving for war wishing his ill wife goodbye, walking towards the old mahogany door and twisting the knob open. You twist your fingers and clench your eyes shut, enraged and fulfilled all the same. “I’ll see you later, I have work to do, sewing your wedding dress and all.”

The door closes, gently, and you turn to bite the pillow and scream into it.

[flippinpancakes64]

The Cullens with a reader who is afraid of needles but has tattoos and piercings?

The Cullens with a Reader who has tattoos and piercings but is afraid of Needles

Again, you guys manage to clock me perfectly. It’s kinda freaky. I just got a new tattoo the other day but I’m still putting off getting some of my vaccines because I’m scared of them.

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He thinks you’re funny

He so fascinated by how your mind works

He went with you once while you got a new tattoo

He was supposed to be there to hold your hand

But you didn’t need it

You just sat there peacefully making small-talk

But then

Carlisle called you into the clinic because you were overdue for a vaccine

Edward thought you were gonna take his hand clean off

He’s tried to talk to you a couple times about how they’re not so different

But you don’t wanna hear it

So he just settles with being there to comfort you every time you need a shot ❤️

Alice:

She finds it hilarious

Definitely tells you that you’re overreacting

But she will still comfort you

She loves your tattoos and piercings so much

But she just cannot wrap her mind around why you seem to be petrified of other needles

Oh well

She teases you for it all the time

But that doesn’t stop her from going with you and holding your hand and telling you how brave you’re being

She still tries to convey how weird you’re being

And how they’re not that different

But even she can see that that won’t work

So she just lets you be you

Jasper:

He may be a vampire

But honestly he gets it

No one particularly enjoys the feeling of something punching into your skin

But it’s easier to cope when you know that you’re getting something cool out of it

Aka a piercing or a tattoo

He understands

So he goes with you whenever you have to get a shot and he uses his ability to calm you down

It makes it easier for everyone

He also may or may not have taken to just asking Carlisle to give you your vaccines when you’re asleep

He can use his ability to keep you asleep

Bada bing bada boom problem solved

Rosalie:

She understands a little bit

But also not really

She remembers getting her ears pierced when she was alive and she absolutely hated it

So she hates needles too

She understands you there

But she doesn’t understand your love for tattoos and piercings

Like obviously she loves her ear piercings and sort of wishes she’d gotten second lobe ones

But the pain is way too much for her

Also she is very reluctant to go with you

She can stomach a lot

But something about needles is a no for her

Don’t get me wrong she will hold your hand and let you squeeze

But her head will be turned the other way

Emmett:

He thinks you’re hilarious

He teases you for it all the time

Likely won’t let up even if you tell him to stop

He just thinks it’s the funniest shit

That doesn’t mean he won’t go with you to be your emotional support and personal stress ball

It just means that he’ll bully you relentlessly afterwards

He doesn’t actually mean any malice behind it

He’s just a jokester at heart

And if you really, really tell him you don’t like when he teases you about it

He might let up every once in a while

Esme:

If she was human, she would honestly be the opposite

In her human life, she could take a vaccine needle like a champ

But even the thought of a tattoo or piercing makes her queasy

She does her best to reassure you of that

Trying to convince you that needles aren’t that bad

But you’re hard to get through to

So she just settles for being there for you

She goes with you every time you need to get a shot

But she stays home from the piercers or the tattoo parlor

Best scenario

Carlisle:

He has a bit of a different approach to this

He knows many people who are afraid of needles

He’s a doctor, it’s bound to happen

Thinks that exposure therapy is the best

He takes you to the clinic with him all the time

Has you sit in on a couple of his patients

And watch them get vaccines

Maybe it works maybe it doesn’t

Can’t say he didn’t try

But he never judges you for your fear

It’s real, it’s valid, and he will never make fun of you for it

Vampire! Bella:

Honestly

She understands

I have a feeling she was really in to getting piercings at some point

But I also have a feeling she never took good enough care of the piercings for them to stick around

So when she was human she had a bunch of scarred holes on her ears

But she gets it

She hated needles

But she loved piercings

Honestly wishes she could get some now

But either way, she doesn’t judge

She understands completely

Supportive queen

[almondmilkcleanser]

𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 - O4

■ ` ♡ characters / fandom ; f!reader x sebastian michaelis - kuroshitsuji + in a binding agreement

■ ` ♡ tw ; begging ; dominance ; dirty talk ; cumming inside + more ; MINORS DNI

main menu | one-shots menu | chapter one | masterlist

■ ` ♡ VIP GUESTS TO THE MEAL ↷@preciousamethyst @crow-like-shiny-things @chrollohearttags @muvaginger @justaproudslytherpuff @kookie-vuitton @starstarbinks @flxxrence @urbunniebaby @nocturessa @neko-michaelis @maidensblessing @aiyaaayei

■ ` ♡ A/N → long overdue I KNOWWW! If you guys aren't following my personal posts im a traveling sonographer now so life has been a little jumbled. But slowly but surely we're coming back! Until further notice I'm uploading MICRO chapters only (1-2.5k words.) I hope you guys understand and still enjoy my works ~

“Oh Sebas-Chan, how could you ever be so disastrously cruel to me? After all we've done together~”

Sebastian’s eyebrow twitched. You remained behind him, peeking shyly over his shoulder. His large hands firmly gripped at your waist, keeping you still.

Sigh.. Sebastian took a breath, cleared his throat, and turned around, fastening his collar in remorse.

“I assure you we have no business of the sort. Now if you don't mind, Y/N and I have business to-”

“I dont think caressing eachother into the night can be considered business, Sebastian. The red haired woman kept her cheshire grin. It made you weirdly uncomfortable, Vespecially when she showed her sharp teeth.

Sebastian was the king of neutrality but that seemed to really get under his skin.

“My apologies, Y/N.” He loosened his grip and turned around to face this.. Grell, person.

“What exactly does your business entail tonight, Grell? As you can see we’re quite busy.” Grell didnt like that at all.

“If you must know, there’s a rise of dead bodies circulating in this immediate area. We’re suspecting a serial killer of some sorts. Is that any of your doing, Sebastian?”

He paused for a moment before replying. “I couldn't be bothered to get my hands that dirty.” That statement made you tense up. Hard.

“Well,” Grell paused, biting the tip of her finger in thought. By the looks of it she was trying to be seductive but it looked downright.. Uncomfortable.

“If your innocence is in fact true, then i'll be on my way. Oh by the way,” Grell leaned over to look directly at you, a glowering smile sending chills up your spine.

You made eye contact with her, only to be frozen in place by the words that left her mouth.

“You be careful running through the night with demons. They are very selfish beings”. She laughed as if she knew the premise of the joke. And with a light grunt, she disappeared into the clouds as mysteriously as she came.

You looked at Sebastian who returned your worried gaze with a disgruntled one.

“What was that about?” you quizzed.

“Who ever knows with that one.” He sighed, helping you off the barrel you practically made an indentation on. You could even feel small splints of wood under your fingertips by how hard you were gripping the edge.

“Shall we proceed onward?” it wasn't like he waited for you to decline or accept, he began his stride out of the backstreets and back onto civilization.

You weren't too sure, but if you were not mistaken you could tell that statement Grell made had him a little more stiff than what he previously was.

-

You two walked for what felt like another hour. Eventually you two stumbled upon a tailor shop. You gawked at the fine craftsmanship bestowed upon the multiple suits and dresses that were on display. The stitching, the hem, everything drew your attention in multiple directions.

“Right this way, Y/N.” He opened the door for you, a small smile on his lips at your childlike fascination.

“What are we doing here?” The outside paled in comparison to the inside of the shop. Just what were you two doing here?

“If you're going to be accompanying me and the Master”, the bell above the door sprang to life, signaling you and sebastian’s entrance, “Then we have to upgrade your wardrobe.”

“Upgrade my war- Sebastian, what do you mean? Im just a maid, theres no way i could affor-”

“Affordability isn't a subject of conversation for the Phantomhive. If the Master sees fit, he will make due. It never hurts to redeem a credit here and there.”

Your shoulders slumped and you sighed. Why do you even bother fighting with him.

“And besides,” he snaked a hand around your waist pulling you closer towards him. You yelped, swallowing hard as he slowly made his motion from your waist, to your breasts up to your jaw before finally tracing your bottom lip with his thumb.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t accept the paperwork of my contract with stains. I’m a higher class demon. I like my ink,” his fangs subtly poked from his upper lip, making your stomach drop in anticipation. “To shine atop of crisp parchment paper. Dont you agree?”

He tilted your jaw to the side, eyes lowering to focus in on a spot to suckle on. You tried to pull your head away, but your body melted under his touch, his gaze, his charm. If you weren’t mistaken you would have sworn your lower half dissolved into water.

“I cant wait to take you back to the carriage.” he whispered in your ear, his other hand snaking around your waist.

“Who goes there?!” A shrill voice cried out in the backroom. When you finally came to your senses, sebastian stood straight up, fastening his tie. You could even see the flush in his cheeks.

Does he want to prolong the contract or was it poor timing?

“Hello?! Speak up!

“Now Nina,” Sebastian chuckled, “I think the young Master made the right phone calls to let you know you were coming.”

“Oh! Sebastian, is that you!” In an instant, a busty brunette with glasses and a high side ponytail practically sprinted out of the room.

She had multitudes of fabrics and measuring tapes across her shoulder but the excitement in her eyes never faltered.

“It’s always a pleasure, Nina.” sebastian lowered his torso into a polite informal bow, his eyes darting to you, making you do the same.

“Oh nonsense! Up you two!” Nina dropped the garments on a large oak table and planted her hands on her hips.

“My!” She exclaimed. “She’s pretty, is she new? Is she the masters’ msitress?” You choked on your words. Mistress?! To a child?!

“Oh wait, I get it! She’s your girlfriend!” Now Sebastian broke out into a nervous fidget.

“Nothing of the sort, Nina.” Well, shit.

“We’re just here because she needs a change of clothes. The Master finally realizes that even I cannot tackle all of the household tasks alone.”

“Eh? Thats pretty bold of you to say, Sebastian. You must really like her skills”.

Sebastian chuckled to himself, his eyes dancing your way as the double meaning paraded across his mind.

“She’s talented. I’ll say that.”

There was a brief silence. Then Nina cleared her throat. “Well, alrighty then, arms up miss…”

“Y/N.” Sebastian spoke up before you could, throwing off you and Nina.

“Her name is Y/N.”

[munsonthings86]

we've been celestial even before this

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after she has a particularly rough day, steve takes his girl stargazing

warnings: cursing, fluff, soft!steve, established relationship (but still fairly new), oversimplified summary, reader depicted to be nineteen, these two being the biggest lovesick idiots for each other

an: i've been having a lot of fun writing about these two. they own my entire heart. hope you guys enjoy this one * don't copy my work *

wc: 6.1k

steve and sunshine's timeline

The trembling flame of the Coffee House scented candle illuminated your messy bedroom in a flickering, warm, honey light. The smell of the candle resembled nothing of coffee, more like hot cocoa or caramel you thought, but it did its job of calming your rattled nerves, nonetheless. Most of your wooden floor was hidden beneath neglected pieces of clothing that you'd pulled from your closet in a hopeless attempt to string together a decent outfit that morning. I'll tidy up tomorrow, you shrugged, though knowing you, there was a high possibility that "tomorrow" would turn into next week.

Procrastination was a terrible habit of yours, and the tension that the day left you with was doing very little to diminish it. Your early morning shift at Family Video was borderline torturous; Keith saw to that when he scheduled you sans Steve and Robin and had two inept new hires shadow you. Sure they were nice and all, from what you can recall anyway, but you were too out of it to bestow on them the patience you typically had.

Once the stint came to its much desired end, a dreadful date at the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles awaited you. In your venture to become more of an independent and responsible "adult" (being merely nineteen, the word made your blood run cold), the goal of obtaining your permit was set in stone. The written test was passed with flying colors, but like any classic BMV nightmare, you'd forgotten a required document to actually get the damn permit.

Nearly plunging to your knees, you begged the grumpy old woman behind the counter to let you run back to your apartment that was “just down the street”. Truthfully, it was a thirty minute trip on foot, but she didn't need to know that. If you ran, you could make it back in twenty.

But, again, like any classic BMV nightmare, all she left you with was a hardly sympathetic, "Sorry ma'am, but if you don't have all the required documents, I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow. The office closes in fifteen minutes." Through clenched teeth, you thanked her for her time, though she neglected to return the gesture, squawking "Next in line!" in a tone that was poles apart from her customer service voice.

Mercifully, your day wasn't all terrible. On the way back home, you stopped by the library to return a week's long overdue book and, instead of crucifying you for it, the lovely librarian recommended a novel she thought you'd appreciate. Rose in Splendor by Laura Parker. Unbeknownst to her, you'd been dying to read it ever since it was published last year. The grouch over at the BMV could definitely take a page out of her book. No pun intended.

Curled into bed and tucked under your beloved ivory crotched blanket, you thumbed along the pages through gravelly, blurry eyes. You kept promising yourself "one more page", but that was well over ten pages ago.

The male love interest was recounted having perfectly tousled brown hair with a body to die for, and you couldn't help but to think of your Steve. You missed him terribly in that moment and the one thing that kept your woe at bay was the anticipation of you two's nightly phone call. It was the selling point of all your days spent without him, truth be told.

The chime of the landline in the hallway between your kitchen and bedroom pierced through the otherwise silence of your apartment, prompting you to glance at the clock on your wall. 9:32 p.m.

Speak of the devil.

Folding a little doggy ear onto the page to preserve your place, the blanket keeping your legs warm was tossed among your strewn out clothes as you nearly slipped, scurrying to answer the phone. You couldn't bite back your smile as you pressed the receiving end against your ear, hearing the music that was Steve's voice, fill your mind.

"Hi, sunshine."

A breath that was unknowingly caged, freed itself at the sound. "You're nearly on time," you teased, referring to earlier today when Steve promised to call you at 9:30 sharp tonight. Usually, he called you earlier than this, but he was jammed with babysitting duties for the six kids you were considering adopting for yourself at this point.

"I know, I'm sorry," he chuckled. "They finally fixed that game at the arcade that's been down for the past few weeks. Gaga, I think it's called."

"Galaga," you corrected, giggling to yourself. It wasn't a rare occurrence whenever the kids would drag you along on one of their many hangouts, so you were rather well-versed in their nerdy recreations. "Yeah, that's the one. I could barely pry their grubby little hands off the thing. Especially Dustin."

Based on his tone, the roll of Steve's eyes as he spoke was nearly audible. As much as he complained about constantly having to be the one to look after the party, there was a part of him that covertly loved the fact that they depended on him so much. Not only was it somewhat of an ego boost, but he's always dreamed of having little nuggets of his own to protect and guide and treasure.

The daydream of Steve being the ideal father, unlike his own dad ever was, reeled your bottom lip between your teeth as the cord of the landline fell into the trap of your twirling fingers. It was so vivid; a shirtless Steve wearing blue jeans that hugged his bottom so perfectly, driving a rackety lawn mower along the wild grass of the front yard to the house you may or may not have pictured the pair of you living in.

In that utopia, the children that you may or may not have pictured parenting with Steve, sat behind the lemonade stand that was built by their father, giggling and toying with a leaky hose as they awaited customers. You'd be watching your little family from the boxy window of the kitchen, fixing them an afternoon snack, unable to contain your laugh when the hose goes haywire, soaking your lover from head to toe.

The imagery made you giggle out loud, head falling against the wall as your stomach cramped. "What?" Steve asked, laughing along with you though it's purely out of instinct, because of course he didn't know what you were laughing about. But hearing your audible delight was contagious. He couldn't help it.

"It's nothing," you assured, smiling softly before continuing, "just hoping your day was better than mine was."

"Well I don't like the sound of that," he frowned, sneakers squeaking against his floor as he shifted his weight onto his other leg. He watched as the days worth of dirt that'd found solace on his shoes, abandon patterned scuffs on the wood. Memories of the pointed sound of his mothers voice demanding no shoes in the house rang through his head like a siren at the sight. He would've ditched his footwear at the door, but he knew he was running late for his phone date.

"What happened?"

Commencing your response with a weary sigh, you shrugged, laughing dryly, "A lot. It's not even funny how exhausted I am right now."

Steve's chest tightened. He hated when you had a bad day; it left a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse, whenever Steve would make an effort to get to the bottom of what ailed his girl, he had a less than impressive success rate, seeing as vulnerability was one of your shortcomings. Steve knew better than to pry. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make these final hours of the day your best.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he lowered his head, offering a comforting smile that though you couldn't see, you could hear in his voice. "'S alright," he heard you murmur.

It fell silent for a beat before Steve inquired, "When are you comin' home?", to which you furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a confused chuckle. "Uh, I am home."

Jokingly, the boy scanned his apartment and though he saw some of your forgotten belongings from previous visits, he couldn't seem to pinpoint you. "That's weird, I don't see ya. You hiding somewhere?"

The laugh that erupts from your core at your sappy boyfriend is inescapable. Your shoulders quake as you snicker and Steve's never heard a sound so sweet. Mission accomplished. For now, anyway. "You're an idiot."

"For you, yeah," he retorts, "thought we already established that." The apples of your cheeks are growing sore as Steve's honeyed words denies your smile the chance to falter. Any inconvenience that was precedent to this very moment was long forgotten by virtue of the prince charming that was your boyfriend.

"I'll come see you soon, lover boy," you quipped.

"You makin' fun of me?" He was completely unoffended. Prior to the few weeks of you dating, Steve spent the better part of the past decade containing his cascading love for you behind the dire dam of the friendzone. Despite delay, the dam was broken and there was no playing "Mr. Cool Guy". Steve was crazy about you. And he'd be even crazier to not show it.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," you teased. "I'm gonna head to bed, though. I have another shift in the mornin'. That damn Keith," you rolled your eyes, groaning as Steve laughed through his nose.

"Alright, sunshine, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," you glowed. "G'night, Stevie." You waited for him to respond with a "goodnight" of his own before returning the phone back to its base, already pining for your boyfriend's presence again. Though you poked fun at it, what Steve said about you not being "home" wasn't just him being sappy. You were feeling the same way.

No matter where you were, whether it was school, work, the arcade, shit, you could be in the Upside Down, but as long as Steve was there, you felt at home. It made you reflect on the times where you'd be lying in bed, unable to slip into a slumber as you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to go home, though geographically, that's exactly where you were. It was because you missed Steve. And any place where he was absent, was no home of yours.

Sauntering back into your bedroom and kicking away garments to clear a path, you cocooned your body into the blanket that was now stained with the scent of your burning candle, and continued from where you left off in your book. You figured you'd make some decent progress to hopefully avoid another late fee at the library.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It'd been forty minutes later, give or take, when you stood on sore legs, cleansing and moisturizing your face before calling it a night. Your dull eyes wore dark and heavy circles like a hideous skirt, a clear manifestation of the fatigue you were weathering. You rubbed at them unkindly with the hopes of looking even a little more lively, but to no avail.

The bulb of the bathroom went out like a flame once you flicked the switch off, and you abandoned the journey back to your room at the sound of a series of knocks to the front door. Clasping the opening of your robe with shaky hands, you wondered who could be here at this hour. You weren't expecting any visitors. Approaching the door with hushed footsteps, a miniscule view of none other than Steve Harrington could be seen through the peephole of your door.

The tension in your shoulders dissipated, ribs doing their best to cage your fluttering heart. You squealed, fingers fumbling with the lock and you could swear the metal thing had something against you, the way it stalled to unlatch. Steve smiled from the other side of the door as he watched the knob twist and jangle, warmed to know that you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you.

The brown lettering that labeled the white entryway '2F' swung out of view and Steve made eye contact with you for a split second before stumbling back a bit when you threw yourself into him.

Elevating yourself with the tips of your toes to reach him, you trapped his neck between your arms as he returned your hug with one arm, the other remaining properly tucked behind his back. "Hello to you too," he laughed breathlessly before briefly stamping a kiss to your shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" you buzzed, pressing little pecks to as much of his dotted skin as you could. You were suddenly a ball of energy. Finally at home. "When you said later, I thought you meant, like, tomorrow or something."

"Well, I missed you," a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Wanted to come see ya."

The smile he wore carved thin lines into his cheeks as he spoke, walking your tangled bodies back into the quietude of your apartment. He stopped at your cutesy welcome mat, kicking his shoes off before revealing his arm that held a bouquet of just about the prettiest flowers you'd ever seen.

"Steve," you pouted, releasing your hold on his shoulders, "they're gorgeous." Cradling the peach hued roses dressed in a newspaper-style wrapping paper, your eyebrows scrunched together as you reminded yourself of the time. "What florist is open at 10 p.m.?"

The boy chuckled, locking the door behind him. The plaid pajama pants he wore swung loosely on his legs as he approached you. "There isn't," he ran fingers through his disheveled hair that was long overdue for a trim, "I saw them while I was out with the kids and I thought of you, so I got 'em." He shrugged like it was nothing.

"I was gonna surprise you with them at work tomorrow, but I figured I'd just give 'em to you now, ya' know, all things considered."

Heat rushed to your chest and face as you ogled him, filled with an overwhelming sense of luck to be his. Your feelings toward him felt so immense that at times, you could barely articulate yourself. Words of love and adoration raced through your mind a million miles a second yet you always found yourself terribly speechless.

Steve was so open with his affection for you. It’s a love people pray to experience at least once in their lifetime. And what a heaven-sent gift it was to earn that kind of love from Steve.

These would look perfect by the living room, you thought, turning to the kitchen to retrieve a vase after slipping him a fleeting kiss.

Scouring the white cabinets, you almost failed to remember that you didn't particularly own a vase, given the fact that you'd never actually received flowers before. The realization dejected you a bit.

Steve trailed behind you mindlessly, a frown weighing on his lips as he watched your shoulders droop. Leaning against the space on the counter next to you, he slid down a little, leveling with you, "What's wrong, honey?"

A mumbled, "I've never gotten flowers before," left a pang in his chest, your eyes never leaving the shelves of your cluttered cupboard. "Never needed a vase before."

It was now Steve's turn to slump his shoulders while he gazed at you with sad eyes. How could someone so lovely, so divine as you, not be treated the way you deserved? He would buy you flowers every day if you wanted and he had to bite his tongue when he almost cursed himself for not doing it already. But it's okay. He was here now.

Luring your waist into his body with those burly hands of his, he spoke with assurance laced in his voice, "Well, that's okay," he cooed. "Here, use one of these for now," he pulled a mug that you would've otherwise had trouble reaching, as it sat on the very top shelf, "and tomorrow we'll pick out a nice pretty vase for ya'."

Filling the black cup with water, he planted the roses down as neatly as he could. The flowers sat in the mug awkwardly, all splayed out with the stems way too long for your liking. But somehow, it still managed to be nothing short of perfect. "Cute, a little weird," you shrugged, a smile teasing your mouth, "but cute."

Steve chuckled lowly, situating himself between your legs once you sat on the surface of the tile countertop. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"I said the same about you when I first met you," he laughed, unable to contain his smile before getting the joke out. The face you made didn't help. "Shut up, Harrington," you jab at his shoulder softly, cracking a smile of your own.

Though there was a newfound romance, the typical banter that was mutually exchanged wasn't going anywhere. You were glad that nothing changed between you when you started dating.

Toying with the drawstrings on Steve's Gap hoodie, you began zoning out, the thought of going to bed while cuddled up with your boyfriend, sounding all too alluring. Looking up at him, he was already intently staring at you with painfully adoring eyes and you couldn't help but melt under his heated gaze. "Hi," you muttered, shyness clouding you.

"Hi, sunshine," he smiled, adjusting the collar of your robe with careful fingers. "I'm sorry your day sucked."

"It doesn't, anymore," you replied, sincerely. Steve's eyes lit up at that. It wasn't a secret to anyone that his presence alone seemed to be the antidote for some of your worst days. You'd even admitted it yourself, once or twice. But it never failed to ignite the nerves in Steve's body with fervor.

Although you were completely honest that your mood had gone up about ten octaves since he'd been there, Steve didn't want to just be there. He wanted to do more. It was what you deserved.

"You up for a little adventure?"

"Depends," you squinted. "What kinda adventure are we talking about?" He shifted his weight onto his other leg as his eyes veered off to the ceiling, thinking.

Steve happened to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

"There's somewhere I wanna take you," he drummed a rhythmless beat on your thigh with his fingers. The sneaky expression on Steve's face told you everything you needed to know. He was up to no good. As much as you wanted to go on a late night escapade with your boyfriend, you had to be somewhat, even a little, responsible.

"Steve, it's late and we both have work in the morning," you huffed, losing your grip on the strings you'd been distracting yourself with.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, flinging his body out of your clutches dramatically. He was going to get you to cave. Whether you already knew it or not. "Alright, grandma, I promise to have you back home at a reasonable hour. Deal?"

The internal battle on whether you should stay or go was evident in your features, though, realistically you had already come to the conclusion that you'd humor him. The "grandma" bit is what really did it for you.

"This is a dumb idea."

"I'll be waiting by the car," he smiled an accomplished smile before leaving the kitchen. Letting out another sharp exhale, you hauled your body off the counter and headed towards your bedroom, discerning that a robe probably wasn't the dress code for wherever it was Steve was taking you.

Concealing your underlying tank top with a hoodie almost similar to Steve's, you threw on some sneakers before snuffing out the diminishing candle. Giving your appearance a once-over in the mirror, you wondered what you'd just gotten yourself into. Though any time with Steve was time well spent, you couldn't help but to look at your bed longingly as you shut off the lights to your apartment, meeting Steve outside.

He stood by the passenger side of the car, fiddling with a loose thread by the end of his sleeve. The fall season brought a night frigid breeze that blew his hair over his eyes like a curtain, making him pout. You hugged your body as you neared him, brushing his brown tresses from his face, though the wind reversed your efforts in no time.

He pressed a kiss to your palm as he became a puddle under your touch, appreciating the way your toasty hand felt against his icy skin. Steve took his own turn rubbing at your arms when he saw you visibly shiver, teeth nearly chattering. "You wanna tell me where we're goin'?" Misty clouds left short-lived trails in the air between the two of you when you spoke.

"Now where's the fun in spoiling the surprise now?" He opened the car door to punctuate his sentence, gesturing you inside. You could only rebut with a roll of your eyes as you entered, though you and Steve both knew you were loving every bit of this. It warmed your heart knowing he was so keen on saving your day from the horror it started it out to be.

Digging through the glove compartment, you sifted through old receipts and other rubbish that really needed to be thrown away, searching for the mixtape you and Steve made for little times like these. Moments that may now seem small, but would soon become memories that you'd cherish for years to come. It served as a little time capsule; hearing the songs you two carefully picked, easily transporting you to these times even when you'd become gray and old.

As Steve began driving off, your fingers found the sneaky cassette that was scribbled with yours and Steve's initials along with doodles of suns, to represent you, and poorly drawn anchors in honor of Steve's Scoop Ahoy era, to represent him.

Regardless of Steve's slight disdain for that period of time, it was one of your favorites and obviously that was due to the fact that the uniform he wore, showed off his legs in the best way possible. It was the perfect eye candy that summer.

The low sound of Bob Marley singing Could You Be Loved floated through the quietness of the car, easing away any tension within you that might've still been trapped. You admired the way the town was so still. The time was hardly 11 p.m., yet there wasn't a soul to be seen; only lonely litter that drifted through the breeze, aimlessly. It was a stark difference from just a few hours ago when you had to dodge shoulders as you cut through the crowded streets on your way home.

The sky was dark and empty apart from the glowing crescent moon that seemed to be chasing you as you drove. It was the only light source you had aside from the street lights that lined the sidewalks. You started counting them and even got to as far as nineteen, but soon lost count once Steve picked up his speed a bit.

Your eyelids threatened to close as the calming drive coupled with the music, fought to lull you to sleep. But instead, bright neon lights stung your sensitive eyes that grew accustomed to the darkness. Squinting, you read the colorful sign labeled "Darling's Diner", and nostalgia strikes you. It had been years. Too many years since you and Steve had been here last.

"Holy shit," you glimmered, hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt. Steve's hand that found comfort on your thigh during the ride gave it a squeeze before he put the car in park, rushing over to open your car door. He took your hand in his, adoring the way your stunned face gleamed under the glow of the pink and blue neon bulbs. "Surprise," he cheered in a low tone, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours.

The smile you had burned your cheeks but the elation you felt made it all too easy to ignore. The feeling you got whenever you came to Darling's was something indescribable. There were countless fond memories attached to this place and it left you all soft and gooey inside to know that Steve planned on making more with you here. Instinctively, you practically dragged Steve behind you as you rushed inside, the homey scent of burgers, fries, and shakes wafting to your nose.

The floors were still the black and white checkered tiles you remembered them to be; stained with drops of grease and sprinkled with deserted fries. Walls were not much neater, though they were messy with posters and vinyl records instead.

"Want the usual?" Your nod was immediate and shortly after, Steve approached the busy woman impatiently pressing buttons on the register. Wisps of hair fell out of her ponytail and clung onto the film of sweat developing across her forehead. She visibly shrunk into herself as she heard the bell above the door ring, signaling new customers. It was a much busier night than usual.

Regardless of the surge of patrons, the booth you and Steve usually sat in once upon a time, wasn't occupied. The wears and tears corroding the red leather almost served as a name tag, assigning the seat for you two. It was impossible to forget the days Steve came here with you after school, carelessly doing homework while listening to whatever song played on the jukebox.

The table was tidy apart from laminated menus and coloring sheets scattered across the surface. You smirked thinking of the times you and Steve swore you could be the next Picassos, the way you took those things so seriously. As if they'd be hung in museums, you did your best to color them, but not without the added challenge of switching papers with Steve every few minutes. A fun little game you played.

Colored pencils sat by the condiments and you made yourself busy adding hue to the Back to the Future poster, sliding Steve a sheet with some random sports car you didn't know the name of, when he made his way over. He traded you with a cup of hot cocoa with jumbo marshmallows that threatened to abandon ship. "Thanks, Stevie."

"Anytime," he smiled, biting at the cherry that was kissed with a touch of the whipped cream that sat atop of his strawberry milkshake. His long legs brushed against yours as he sat next to you, knees finding mutual rest against each other.

A waitress on pink roller skates offered a kind smile as she brought over a basket of fries that Steve and you snacked on while you chatted and giggled, coloring your own and each other's papers as time seemingly flew by.

"How long has it been since we've last been here?"

"I couldn't tell you. Anything before senior year is such a blur," you responded, adding finishing touches to Steve's car before taking the last sip of your now barely hot, hot chocolate. "I'm just sad we stopped coming here."

"Me too," he swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for an apologetic kiss to your temple. "But I promise to bring you a little more often. It was our spot when we were kids and it'll be our spot now."

You looked at him with bright eyes while hugging his torso, despite the awkward position. Trying to understand what you did to deserve someone like Steve was a dead mission, as you could never fully wrap your head around it. How does one try to understand why they've gotten so lucky?

He kissed away the marshmallow mustache idling on your upper lip before tapping your leg twice, "C'mon, we've got one more stop to make."

The spot he sat in was quickly losing its fever as he stood, holding a hand out for you to take, but you just stared at him with a face that was an odd marriage of scolding and amusement. "Steve," you warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you can yell at me about it later. But I promise you'll love it." Waving his hand to urge yours into his, you accepted it with little hesitation at his grin. You wished the woman at the front a good night as you left the bistro, while Steve dropped a tip in the jar next to her.

He didn't let your hand go until you were sat in the passenger seat, subsequently getting behind the steering wheel, inserting the key in the ignition. You could tell Steve was tired too, the way he full-body stretched as he yawned, rubbing at his eyes that were getting a bit red from fatigue. He wanted to go to bed and cuddle and forget about the world just as much as you did. So why were you still out there?

"What's all this for, Harrington?"

He answered your question with another one of his own, "What's all of what for?"

"Tonight. Everything. The flowers, the diner, and now something else. I'm really grateful for it, don't get me wrong," you warmed his hand when you held it, "but why so much?"

Steve shrugged, averting his gaze to the gear shift sitting between you two. He softly rubbed at your knuckles while he gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you told me that you had a shit day. Just wanted to change that. I like when you're happy."

Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself and your chest stung when tears pricked at your eyes. Steve looked back at you affectionately, the voice of his eyes telling you just how much he cared for you. It made your heart so full. It was too much to handle sometimes.

"I like when you're happy too, Stevie," you beamed, blinking away the pool by your bottom eyelashes. Cupping his cheek, you pushed your plump lips against his that were a little chapped, though you didn't seem to mind at all. Reluctantly, you pull away and Steve doesn't think it was nearly long enough as he sneaks in a few extra pecks.

The drive to wherever on Earth it was that Steve was taking you, was much different compared to the one prior. It almost didn't look like Hawkins. For the past couple miles, Steve's burgundy BMW had been the only car on the road. The trees were taller, a darker green and stronger in numbers than the ones you were used to. The street lamps were less abundant and dimmer than usual, and the animal crossing signs told you that you were more than just a little ways from home.

You had almost said something until Steve pulled off to the side, parking the car on an empty hill just off the road that overlooked Hawkins and the neighboring city. It looked so small from here. Steve smirked at the puzzled expression you threw his way as you removed your seatbelt.

"Before you ask, just come outside. There's something I wanna show you."

You didn't bother waiting for Steve to open the door for you, as you stepped out, attempting to conjure up what he could possibly be wanting to show you out here. There was nothing to be seen but dirt and fallen leaves and branches. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look up," he responded, leaning against the hood of the car.

Your furrowed eyebrows relaxed as a gasp fell from your lips at the sight of the cloudless sky, lighting up with numerous twinkling stars, an image you could only dream of seeing for yourself since you were a little girl. The mighty city that sat so close to Hawkins fostered light pollution that made it nearly impossible to see the stars at night. If you were lucky, you were only able to make out about one or two, though you weren't sure if they had been stars or planets, instead. Either way, it ignited your soul to be able to see such a bright and beautiful piece of the universe, making you feel so small in the best way possible.

That didn't nearly amount to this very moment though, where there were more stars that you could count, sitting so prettily in the midnight sky.

Mouth still agape, you utter, "Steve, it's beautiful," and other than that, you were rendered speechless. You couldn't dare to tear your eyes from it, worried that if you did, it would all disappear, proving to be a mere hallucination from your tiredness. Steve adored the way you stared at the heavens, noticing the way it was the same way you looked at him. All he could see was a clear reflection of the stars in your eyes, and it perfectly spoke to the way he felt about you.

He saw everything when he looked at you. The sun, the moon, the stars, the universe, even the galaxy. His past, his present, his future. All of it. To him, you encompassed everything beautiful and divine. He was convinced you were too good for this planet. Too extraordinary. How did he get so lucky?

"Look," you pointed at two stars that sat close to one another, shining impossibly brighter than the others, "do you think that's us in another universe?"

Steve smiled at your question, cherishing how whimsical you could be sometimes. Your voice was soft and full of wonder and he couldn't be more content in this moment. "Yeah," he nodded at you, "I'm yours in every universe, sunshine." He kissed the back of your hand, holding your intertwined hands against his chest.

"Y'know I was thinking to myself the other day about how weird relationships are," he stated, looking down at his feet. You peeled your eyes away from the sky, gazing at your boyfriend for the first time since you stepped out of the car. "Weird, how?"

"I don't know, like how you randomly meet someone and get to know them really well and one day just decide, 'I like this human. I'm gonna spend all my time with them and take care of them.' Maybe weird isn't the word, but it's definitely interesting," he rambled, talking with his hands, even the one that was still laced through yours.

You nodded along, understanding where he was coming from. It was something you'd thought about yourself. He continued, "Like, I look at us and how far we've come and it scares me a little 'cause I see how my parents are now. They were best friends before they got married and now I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've seen them hug or kiss. Freaks me out."

This was one of the few times Steve spilled what was weighing on his mind. You could always tell when something bothered him and though he'd give you bits and pieces when you asked what was wrong, it was never anything as nuanced as this. It made you proud to see him develop so much.

"We're not them, Steve. It's like you said, I'm yours in every universe. Maybe they aren't each others every universe," you sighed, "We won't end up like them, I promise"

You always knew how to reassure him. It was one of the things Steve loved so much about you; your way with words. Nothing sort of a poet, he thought. He engulfed your face with his palms, kissing you with every ounce of passion he had.

Lowly in the background, you could hear the song Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington, as the mixtape was still playing in his car. "It's our song," you smiled against his lips when you pulled away. You took his hands from your face, grasping them when you asked him, "Dance with me?"

He nodded, holding your body against his as your head fell against his chest, looking down at the sleeping town that felt so far away. You swayed back and forth, finding comfort in the near silence, listening to the rhythmic beating of Steve's heart. "Thank you for this, Steve," you whispered. "I'm lucky to be yours."

"Even if you weren't, I'd still do it for you," he admitted, running hand across your back, tenderly.

The little sentence made you think. Steve has been in your life for well over a decade now and he never failed to be there for you even when you didn't know how to ask for it. He was the one who took care of you whenever you found it a little difficult to take care of yourself. The one who never dared to leave your side.

You and Steve were in love even before you were. You'd been celestial even before this.

"I love you, sunshine," he murmured, head resting on top of yours.

"I love you back, Stevie."

💌 1 new message from jojo: pls pls pls comment/reblog (or both teehee) if you enjoyed, it means a lot! inbox is open!

[russellsppttemplates]

Sharing is caring (George Russell)

A long weekend with the Russells

Note: english is not my first language. I know this is very very very overdue, but hopefully it's still enjoyable!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Are you guys doing well back there?", you asked the kids as George drove the four of you up to his parents' house. According to the screen display, you still had a little over an hour until you arrived at George's parents house where you would be staying for the long weekend to enjoy some family time before the season picked up again.

"Does anyone need a bathroom break?", George asked, looking at Olivia and Arthur through the rear view mirror, "I'm fine", Olivia chirped in, "me too, I'm okay", Arthur added.

"You're doing okay, too?", George asked you, hand on your thigh as he drove, "I'm fine. I never want to say it too loud, but I think morning sickness stopped two weeks ago", you added.

"Little one has had enough causing raucous", George whispered, turning his attention back to the road ahead.

"We're nearly there, right, daddy?", Arthur asked as he recognised the streets as the car approached his grandparents' house, "yes, we just turn here and at the end there", George replied as you texted your mother in-law, letting her know to open the big gate so no one had to get out of the car.

"Guys, you're here! Did you have a good trip?", Allison welcomed you into the house, hugging the kids who immediately ran and hugged her legs, "grandma!!", they excitedly said.

"We did, it was fine. There was a little traffic at the end, but we were so close I think it barely bothered us", you said as you greeted Steve, walking inside the house and making sure the kids left their shoes by the door.

"I'm going to take the bags upstairs", George said, kissing your forehead, "I'll be right back", he smiled as you ushered Olivia and Arthur to the bathroom, "Y/N, here, darling, our some slippers on!", Allison offered.

Since Allison and Steve lived on their own again, as every child had now fled the nest, they updated the bedrooms, you and George staying in the guest bedroom with a double bed and the kids occupying the room they had for whenever the grandchildren stayed over.

"Lunch is ready, so when you can come down, we're waiting for you", George's mother called him as he helped you sort out the room for your children, "we'll be down in a little, thanks!".

After eating and helping tidying the kitchen, George took the kids out to the garden, hoping to use up their energy since they spent the whole morning inside a car.

"Is the swing alright, dad?", George questioned, "yes, me and Benjy sorted it out a few weeks ago. It's good as new", he answered, prompting George to take the kids to the renovated swing set.

When he was younger, he didn't spend too much time at home since racing required him to spend a lot of time away, but the times he did spend back home were filled with memories os this swing.

"Is this the old swing you told us about?", Arthur said, unsure of the whole apparatus since he heard stories from when his father and his uncle and aunt were much younger.

"Yes, me and uncle Benjy used to spend a lot of time here with auntie Cara, too! Who wants to go first?", he said as Olivia volunteered.

"It's safe, Arthur, see?", she said as she balanced her body back and forth, making her brother feel a little more comfortable with the whole thing, "I'll share it with you later, okay?".

"Sharing is important", George began, "and the fact that you guys always share is very nice, me and mummy are very proud of you", he said as Arthur picked some flowers from the grass and gave some to Olivia.

"We're siblings, of course we share everything", Arthur said naturally. It was true. For him, even if Olivia picked on his buttons a few times, he wouldn't ever not want to share something with her.

"Would you want to share your things with somebody else?", George tried as the kiss both looked at him like they didn't know what he was on about, "what I means is, would you mind having to share your things with someone else?", he clarified.

The pregnancy news were still between you and George, excluding your doctor. Because the kids could easily spill the news to somebody else and you had been specially careful so the news would stay between the people you wanted to until the doctor considered it was okay.

"I always share with my friends, too. But yesterday I had all the grapes mummy cut up for me because they were really good and I really wanted them", Arthur admitted as Olivia quirked a brow, "I think we could, yes. Even our toys, we share them too", Olivia added.

George seemed satisfied enough with the answers, hoping that when you broke the news they wouldn't have a complete meltdown.

"C'mon, Liv, it's Arthur's turn", George requested gently, the girl hopping off so her brother could have a go.

"What is mummy doing?", your son asked, "she was helping grandma with tonight's dinner when I asked if she wanted to come with us", George offered.

When they arrived back in time to have a quick shower and get ready for family dinner, you and George dressed them in comfortable clothes since it was just close family. Once they started arriving, the kids found their spot on the floor of the living room, playing with toys and colouring books while the adults caught up with eachother.

"Y/N! I haven't seen you in so long!", Cara said as she came up to you for a hug, "we've been busy, but we managed to sort some time out to come up here", you smiled, offering her the little pastries you had been working on with your mother in-law, "these are delicious!".

Excusing yourself from the group, you went to check on the kids, sitting on the sofa and getting a few cuddles from your nieces and nephews, "auntie Y/N!", one of them gasped, "you almost fell asleep while I was showing you my drawing", he said as Arthur snickered, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, you can show me again, please", you offered, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

"Darling, do you want some wine? We found your favourite in the shops the other day, Steve bought a couple of bottles", your mother in-law smiled as she stretched her arm to receive your glass when you were all in the dining room, "I don't, thank you for thinking of me, though", you smiled, exchanging a look with George that wasn't missed by his sister.

"I saw that!", Cara pointed out, "what was that?!", she questioned her brother, knowing he would break under her stare.

"Y/N has something to tell you", he quickly offered, passing the ball to your court as you felt everyone's eyes on you.

"This is not how it was supposed to go, but there wasn't a proper plan either, so... we are having a baby!", you announced, unfolding your leggings and letting your small baby bump show.

"Oh my goodness, another baby!", Allison cooed as your children looked at George for confirmation, "you're going to have a little brother, guys!", he said as they ran to hug you baby bump.

"I noticed your tummy was bigger, but I just thought you had a big lunch!", Arthur said, delighting everyone as they laughed, George watching everyone congratulate you before also congratulating him, "congratulations, darling", his mother kissed his cheek.

"We've been a little more careful this time around, did all the tests and in the blood test, the doctor told us were having a little boy", you smiled, kissing the top of your kids' heads as they latched onto your sides.

"Well, we can celebrate with the wine still! Some juice for you, Y/N", Steve poured in your cup.

When it came to bedtime, the kids didn't want to sleep in a separate room from you, and since the bed was big enough, you allowed them to sleep with you and George.

"That's what I'm saying, guys. It doesn't mean mummy is sick, but it means she needs our help more, she won't be able to do all things at once and it's our job to make sure she rests, as well", you heard your husband tell the kids while you brushed your teeth in the en suite bathroom.

"Time for sleep, kids", you said, lying down on the mattress, you and George brushing each of their hairs as they switched off, almost like a button, "they used up all their energy today", George began, "Did you know these two were wondering how they could help you, because they were worried that you are tired. You even fell asleep on the sofa..!", George tried his best to mimick his nephew shocked expression, earning one of your beautiful laughs.

"I love them so much", you sighed, "and I love you", you kissed his lips.

Kissing your forehead, George's hand managed to reach your bump despite the little boy latching on you like a koala and your daughter lying on top of him, drawing random shapes on it, "not as much as I love all of you".

[mrsjjongstby]

Written notes

P: Stranger!Heeseung x Fem!Reader Warnings: teasing? (if squint hard enough), exchange between strangers (let me know if I missed any!) WC: 445 Synopsis: You end up sitting next to a stranger at the library, and they keep passing you cheesy notes while you're trying to work.

---------------------------------------------- Entering the library, rows and rows of books come into your view, the smell of books prominent as ever, the same old place you got habituated to go to daily to finish your works.

You take your books and go to your favourite corner of the library to start your work, you saw a person already sitting there, that particular person looked familiar of course why wont he? he's also a regular visitor of the library. So it makes sense that you recognize him almost immediately even though you guys never actually talked. Without thinking much you sat infront of him and started doing your work in peace.

But the peace was short-lived.

A folded piece of paper slid towards you.

You blinked, glancing up. The guy sitting at the table across from youa tall, sharp-featured stranger with dark hair peeking from under his cap—pretended to be engrossed in his laptop. He didn’t even glance your way.

Curious, you opened the note.

“What are you working on? You look very focused, too focused! its really sus :0”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to suppress a smile. Grabbing your pen, you scribbled a quick response and slid the note back to him.

“None of your business how about you try working on your work?”

It didn’t take long for his reply.

“Rude. I am working! I’m working on talking to you ;) How am I doing so far?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. The audacity.

“Terrible. Please stop.”

He smirked when he read it. And instead of stopping, he leaned forward and passed another note your way.

“Terrible? Ouch. Can I at least get a name so I know who’s crushing my dreams of bagging a baddie?”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored him and turned back to your book. But the next note landed within seconds.

“Still no name? :( Fine. I’ll guess! You look like a… book detective. Solving the mystery of your overdue assignments?”

This time, you couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped you, soft and barely audible, but loud enough to catch his attention. When you glanced up, he was grinning, triumphant and passed another note

“Thought so. I’m Heeseung ;) Nice to meet you, book detective!”

You sighed, realizing you weren’t going to get any work done today. Sliding the note back, you finally wrote:

“[Y/N]. And for the record, you’re still terrible at this.”

His replies:

“Terrible? I’m aiming for unforgettable. but I’ll take it meet me at the café next door? I’ll buy you a coffee as an apology for distracting you ;)

Well keeping your work aside for a few more hours wouldn't hurt, now would it?

........................................................

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

A/N: hey all! how have u been? its been a hot min since ive written a fic lol! hope u enjoy it! likes nd reblogs are always appreciated! stay hydrated loves!

[heraldofpassion]

Annabeth's Joy

Hi folks!

This here is my first ever birth fic that I write and share!

I’d love your honest opinion and criticism, but please keep in mind I’m new at this, that English isn’t my first language, and that I’m a virgin who knows nothing of sex.

That said, I sincerely hope you all enjoy, and hope it will make you feel hot and bothered ;).

Take care

Herald of Passion

Tags: Pregnancy kink, labor kink, birth kink, sex, sex in labor, orgasmic birth, threesome

-------------

Annabeth was the sexiest girl of our year in college. It became even more true when she got pregnant.

No one knew who knocked her up, but everyone had their own theory. The football captain, the English teacher, pretty much anyone with looks and charisma. But I was going to learn two very important things about Annabeth: she didn’t care about status, and I didn’t care who got her pregnant; I only wished it was me.

We had biology together, and soon got to talking. She and her friend Melanie were inseparable but made place for me at their table. I was the new guy in this college, and they wanted to learn more about me.

How to describe Annabeth? Well, she was stunning, with long flowing brown hair falling down her back, a perfectly chiseled face and piercing eyes. She had pretty big breasts, barely covered by her crop top, her nipples sometimes pointing out. That girl wasn’t afraid of her body and sexuality and encouraged others to do the same.

Every time we were sitting next to each other, she would laugh and touch my arm, and look at me with interest when asking me about my girlfriends and experiences. She almost couldn’t believe I was a virgin.

“Aww sweetie. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a girl to fuck you soon.” She told me with a wink, while my cheeks started to burn. I was already imagining bending her over the desk, caressing her growing belly and kissing her neck, our moans mixing as we reach climax.

…

A few months later, she invited me to a fun evening with her friends. We were maybe a dozen, chatting, partying, having fun, and soon, most of them left or were too drunk to stay awake, leaving only me, Annabeth, and Mel who didn’t drink (Anna for obvious reason).

Speaking of obvious, Anna came back to us in a short bikini, clearly dating from before getting pregnant. Her belly was coming out so large in front of her, and her breasts were barely contained by her bra. She told us to get into our swimwear and to join her in the pool, turning around to go outside, my eyes fixed on her perfect ass and rolling hips. Mel gave me an amused look, before taking off her clothes, leaving herself in her bra and panties, before jumping in the water. A bit more self-conscious, but not wanting to miss this opportunity, I got into my underwear too and got into the pool.

There, we chatted and swam for most of the night. I hoped my erection wasn’t too apparent, but the girls’ cheeky look and shared laughs told me it probably wasn’t. I decided to follow Anna’s lack of shame, and simply took off my swimsuit, leaving myself naked. Anna whistled and winked and didn’t make a joke about it. She really was the best girl ever.

…

People were following Anna’s growth and development, and she wasn’t shy with telling everyone about her progress, which meant everyone knew she had been overdue for a week at the point of our last biology session.

“Great news everyone!” exclaimed miss Berkeley as she stood in front of us, a large couch covered with soft covers between us and her. “This year, for our final project, you will assist to a live birth and then write an essay about what the experience. For this, we are very lucky to have Annabeth with us, who graciously offered her birth as a class project.”

Anna smiled and waddled to the front of the room while everyone looked at her. She finally let out a sigh and groan, probably having held them all day at this point. She turned toward Mel and me.

“Will you help send me into actual labor, and then birth my baby?” She asked in her sweet tone as a contraction took her, gripping onto the desk.

We didn’t answer, but I looked at Mel, and we were in harmony. We joined her in front of everyone and started kissing her. Mel and she exchanged a deep and passionate kiss, while I was caressing her big overdue belly. My cock was already making a bulge in my pants, but I wanted to focus on Anna for now. I freed Anna’s breasts from her tank top and placed my lips around her nipple, while Mel took the other. Anna had already started lactating, as she had showed us before, but drinking her milk was ten times better then I could have imagined. Annabeth was moaning and panting, caressing my hair and pulling us closer.

She sat on the desk and spread her legs, revealing her lack of panties. Her pussy lips, wet and puffy, were already soaked with her pleasure. “Lick me, please….” She almost whispered, as she threw her head back to endure another contraction.

I smiled and obliged, my tongue gently sliding between her folds as she moaned, before exchanging a steamy kiss with Mel. They were clearly both liking it, since they took off their clothes and started to caress their breasts, rubbing their nipples between kisses.

While that was happening, I was licking Anna’s lips and circling her clit with my fingers. I could feel her shake from pleasure, but also the pressure and pain building inside of her. My cock was throbbing in my pants, and I just wanted to fuck her and feel her water breaks all over me.

Anna placed her legs over my shoulders and pulled me closer. Mel was gently pulling on her nipples, milk leaking out like faucets over Anna’s contracting belly.

“Ah… Ah… God please… please fuck me… both of you… Ah… make me cum!” Anna panted, jerking her hips to find my mouth.

I placed the tip of my cock between her pussy lips while Mel sat over her face, her hands fondling Anna’s heavy milk-filled breasts. We exchanged a look, and I slid all the way inside in one stroke, sharing a moan with the girls. My first time having sex, with the sexiest girl, actively in labor! I started to move in and out, while Mel and Anna were teasing and touching each other like there was no tomorrow. I could feel Annas contractions as I fucked her, her birth canal pulsing around me as she was slowly dilating, her cervix opening to let her give birth.

Anna was moaning, grunting, and panting, not caring about our classmates watching her at her most vulnerable which, in my mind, was also at her peak of beauty and sensuality.

“You’re so bea… fuck… beautiful Anna!” I groan, before jerking my hips forward again, grinding against her clit, both of us seeking our pleasure.

“…Gonna cum… gonna cum…” she whispered back as both Mel and I caress her large pregnant belly, covered by a sheen of sweat and milk.

“Cum for us darling, let that pregnant pussy of yours gush for all to see…” Mel moaned in Anna’s ear, loud enough for me to understand. Those words were enough to push us all over the edge, cumming and screaming our respective orgasm. Mel grabbed onto Anna’s tits and tried to close her legs, shaking from head to toe, while I was emptying the biggest load of my life deep in our pregnant friend’s pussy, my body jerking on its own, seemingly trying to impregnate the girl actively giving birth. As for Annabeth, she was screaming her heart out, not caring about volume, her cries of pain, discomfort, and sheer pleasure mixing together as her water broke like a floodgate, drenching me in squirt and amniotic fluid.

“Oh god… oh god… my water broke… did my water really break?” She asked, still a bit out of breath, trying to look at me over her pregnant belly, Mel having jumped off her face.

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow with humor, my waist and torso still wet, cock softening slowly, but staying aloft for now.

“Yeah, I think your water broke. Do you need to change position?”

“Maybe… I’ll try standing UPPP!” She shouted, her legs wanting to give out, but Mel and I were quick enough to grab her arms. Anna dropped to a squat, her slit starting to bulge out and part.

“I feel like pushing… fuck! Fuck I need to push!” She shouted, her belly hardening as a contraction wracked her body. Her face scrunched up and she pushed, her lips moving further and further apart under the amazed looks of me and the rest of the class. With me not actively fucking Anna, I was able to split my focus and look at my classmates. Those that weren’t fucking each other or touching themselves were among the minority. The room was filled with shed clothes and moans of pleasure. Anna’s moaning brought me back to the present as she squatted lower, the head peaking out of her pussy. Her nipples were still leaking, ready to feed her baby, but Mel latched onto one of them, while I took the other into my mouth. We drank her sweet-tasting milk as she pushed her baby out, the head now crowning between her legs.

“Fuck it feels good! Keep going… keep going I’m gonna… cuuuuuuuum!” Anna groaned as she squirted the head out, a gush of fluid following her baby making its appearance into the world.

“You’re so hot mama, you’re doing so good. Almost there, ok?” Mel whispered while stroking the future mother’s hair and kissing her neck.

Anna almost purred at the touch, and wrapped her arms around me, squatting low, forcing me down with her. My arms were massaging her hips and offering counterpressure, her belly moving against me.

“Need to push… need to push… need to push…” She was repeating, almost in a trance. Even with her body covered in sweat and her hair sticking to her face, she was the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

“Do it love, push your baby out. We all believe in you. I know you can.” I told her, kissing her neck and shoulder, before she pressed her lips against mine.

We kissed for what felt like an eternity, before she moaned louder into my mouth, her body shook again, and she finally gave birth into my waiting hands, who started to cry. Mel supported and helped Anna sit down, and I gave her the baby she pushed out with so much effort and grace. She started to nurse, exhausted, but beaming. Motherhood suited her so well.

Miss Bekerley, trying to readjust her skirt, soaked through with her juices, cleared her throat.

“Good job Anna, and congratulations on your bundle of joy! That was… quite a presentation. How will you call her?”

She turned to look at Mel and I, smiling softly, before turning to our newborn daughter.

“Like you said… Joy.”

[alphajocklover]

What about a G2S story about greasers? There's so few of those.

Imagine: A very lonely gay guy meets a rockabilly, greaser gang. They take him under their wing, which gay guy appreciates because of his loneliness. But slowly they start changing him, making him just like them.

In the end the lonely gay guy becomes a James Dean, Danny Zuco-wannabe with the gang becoming his new found family.

A lot of people think that Alphas and Betas are a relatively new thing. It makes sense to assume so in a way. Alphas as we know them are pretty new, but that’s only because Alpha culture has changed over time, just like ours. There were Alphas in the old west, in the ancient world, and even going back to the beginning of civilization as we know it. Recently I discovered an old book where someone had written down a number of stories about Alphas from the past. I guess I’m not the first person to document their behavior. One story in particular stuck with me though, so I’ve transcribed it here. Hope you enjoy.

Caleb Sparrow was a complete and utter nerd. An unhip clyde with a reputation for being a bit of a spaz. The kind of goof all the cool cats completely ignored. He was only really good at one thing: not standing out. A part of him hated that he was the way he was, that he was a loser with no friends. But a part of him was grateful. For a secretly queer man living in 1955, he was actually pretty lucky. No one bullied him (mainly because no one noticed him), his secret desires hadn’t been found out, and he had a good future ahead of him. He knew that eventually he’d land a steady job, find a swell gal who he could get along with well enough to marry, and live the traditional life his parents had always wanted of him. A part of him was grateful. But a part of him still hated it all. Hated how lonely he was, how he’d never find someone he’d really love, how his entire life was always going to be a lie. But he was resigned to it. Until… he met an Alpha named Biff.

Biff was everything Caleb wasn’t. He was the hippest greaser in town, with a handsome face, manly muscles, a souped up rag top and a gang of fellow greasers to hang with. Biff had it all. Sure all the squares all said he was bad news, but he didn’t care. He had it made in the shade. He had a different betty with him every night. That’s what made it so weird to everyone when Biff suddenly started being so friendly with Caleb. Caleb didn’t know what to make of it at first, and was pretty sure he was going to end up getting beat, but Biff was… well he was dreamy, so Caleb let himself believe that he really wanted to be his friend. He had no idea that Biff was just looking for a new Beta. Turning Caleb into the perfect Beta took less time than you’d expect. Caleb integrated into the gang with surprising ease, all of the other members treating him like they had been friends for life, and as he began to grow closer to the group and Biff, he began to change.

At first it was a slight change in style and lingo, trying to keep up with his new crew. Then he shot up several inches and began to pack on muscle, which the 19 year old brushed off as an overdue growth spurt. But over time the style changes became more and more drastic and his body grew at an even faster rate. Soon he wasn’t just the new kid, he was the second in command, right after Biff. That’s why everyone started calling him Deuce. Just like everyone else in the gang Deuce was muscular, cool, loved cars and was obsessed with Biff. Deuce eventually even came out to Biff and confessed his love, but Biff didn’t wanna deal with all the issues that came with having a queer beta, so he ‘suggested’ that Deuce was actually a pussy hound like him. Considering how many gals Deuce has played backseat bingo with I think Biff might have overdone it, but just like always he got what he wanted. Another manly, muscular, straight greaser for his gang.

**hey there guys! Never done anything with Greasers before, so it’s probably not as good as my usual stuff, but I had fun with it. Hope you all enjoy. Might revisit the idea of Alphas throughout history sometime**

[goatcheesecak3]

I hate you too Pt.3

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x reader

Warnings: alcohol, brief mentions of nsfw

Fic type: angst, fluff

Summary: both trying to wrap your heads around the situation, you and Adam each reach out to your friends.

A/n: hello!! Probably the last part to this short series, I've had fun writing it though! Maybe I'll try a Lawrence fic next??? Who knows. Anyways, enjoy! :^)

Your heart sank. What the hell kind of sick game was Adam playing with you? Hooking up was one thing, but you'd both poured your hearts out to eachother, you though you had a real connection. You wiped tears from your eyes and gritted your teeth in anger. You needed a friend, a distraction. You called Mark.

"H- hey Mark" you spoke into the phone, sniffling a little and hoping it didn't sound like you'd been crying.

"What's up, y/n?" His voice sounded cheery.

"Look, I don't wanna put you on the spot or anything, man, but I uh... I'm having kinda a bad day, I was wondering if I could come over?"

"Hey, you know you're welcome anytime. Scott's coming over later to watch this lame slasher movie I picked up, it's gonna be a hoot. You should join us!"

His kindness was so jarring I'm contrast to the cold, unfeeling text you'd just recieved from Adam. It almost made you tear up again, but you held it together long enough to set a time, before hanging the phone up.

You made yourself a rather exquisite breakfast consisting of a cigarette, a beer, and several more cigarettes. Following this, you drifted in and out of sleep on the couch while watching episodes of beavis and butthead, and trying your hardest not to think about Adam.

When 6pm rolled around, you finally got yourself dressed and headed out to Mark's apartment.

...

After sending you that awful text, Adam had fallen asleep for a few hours. When he awoke, it was the evening. Despite a full day's rest, he didn't feel any better, in fact, he felt much worse. He knew he'd fucked up, he'd let himself step too far and now he was pretty sure your entire friendship was out the window, let alone any chance at a relationship. He knew deep down this was for the best, or at least he thought so? His head was swimming and he really couldn't make much sense of the whole situation. He had to bite the bullet, and call in for reinforcements in the form of his friend Scott. Adam knew full well that revealing the events that had transpired to Scott would come with a barrage of jokes and teasing, but at the end of it all, Scott was his friend and he'd help him make sense of it all.

...

"Yeah, I can meet you bro. I'm going to Mark's to watch this lame movie, I'll come pick you up and we can talk on the way. We're long overdue for a guy's night"

"Thanks, Man. Yeah, a guy's night sounds good"

Adam was beyond relieved that it would just be the three of them, he couldn't bear to face you right now.

At half six, Scott's beat up old Ford pulled up outside Adam's building, to find him already waiting on the curb, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"You got one of them for me?" Scott grinned as Adam climbed in.

"Always" Adam obliged, handing Scott a cigarette.

"So," Scott pulled off with a screech, "What did you wanna talk about?"

"It's about y/n"

"What, you hittin that or something?" Scott teased.

Adam's unexpected silence answered that question, as he shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"No. Way. No fuckin WAY dude. Mark totally owes me 50 bucks" Scott gave Adam an affectionate punch in the arm, briefly averting his gaze from the road to see what he expected to be a smug grin plastered across Adam's face. Instead, however, Adam's face told a story of guilt and confliction.

"What? You didn't her pregnant did you?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

"Nah man, nothing like that. It's just... ugh, I don't know, I think I like her? But like, I'd just break her heart if I went there" Adam stared straight ahead as he spoke.

"You don't know that, man just tell her how you feel. At the very least you'll get to see her naked a couple more times before you completely fuck it up." It seemed that Scott possessed the incredible ability to never take anything seriously.

"Yeah... I don't think i can do that. Like, I think I've pretty much nailed that coffin shut"

"Well you certainly nailed something," Scott held out his fist to Adam and grinned to himself.

"Dude, I'm serious"

"So am I! Dude, emotional bullshit aside, y/n's a fuckin smokeshow, and I'm proud of my boy for his achievements"

Adam bit the insides of his cheeks, but couldn't help the smile from creeping across his face. He knew the whole macho bullshit thing was gross and childish, but admittedly, he was kinda proud of himself for sleeping with you. He bumped Scott's fist.

"There he is" Scott chuckled, "so, now that we've got all this acting like a pussy out the way, you're gonna pick up your phone, call y/n and tell her 'I'll be at your place later with condoms and viagra, chug a couple energy drinks 'cause we're gonna go all night'" he joked.

"You know, I think that approach might be a little full on" Adam laughed. "But you're right, I gotta stop being a little bitch about this and tell her how I feel"

"Awesome. Me and Mark can help you plan how you're gonna do it tonight, but you owe us another guy's night if we do"

"How come?"

"Because you're totally acting like a chick"

"Shut up, man. You're an asshole, you know that?"

...

You'd been at Mark's apartment for a little while already, drinking beer and waiting for Scott to arrive.

"Does he know I'm gonna be here?" You asked casually

"You know, totally slipped my mind to tell him. Hell be here any minute, so I guess he'll find out when he arrives" Mark smiled.

As if to punctuate that sentence, the unmistakable sound of Scott's loud footsteps approached the apartment door, followed by a hefty knock.

Mark opened the door, to see both Scott and Adam waiting.

"Oh hey! Guess the whole gang's here" Mark smiled.

The two men entered the apartment, Adam's expression slowly turning to one of dread when he saw you sat on the couch.

"What the hell is he doing here?!"

"What the hell is she doing here?!" The pair of you exclaimed at the same time.

"Oh come on, not this again. Guys, just sit down, relax, have a few beers. I'm too tired to watch you two fight all night" Mark rolled his eyes.

"Won't be necessary" you said coldly, rising to your feet and attempting to barge your way past the men and out of the apartment.

"Ohhhh I don't think so, little lady" Scott scoffed, blocking your exit.

"Scott, I'm warning you, you know I could kick your ass" you bit.

"Be that as it may, you and Adam got a lot to talk about. Now Mark and I are gonna leave for a while, give you two some privacy, and you're gonna solve this" Scott said. Seeing Scott be the voice of reason was like seeing a unicorn, you couldn't believe your eyes.

"Why should I leave? This is my apartment?" Mark argued as Scott ushered him out

"Because you're gonna head down to the ATM and withdraw that 50 bucks you owe me"

"What?" The realisation set in and he turned to face you and Adam, "you two? No WAY!"

"Have funnnnn" Scott mocked in a sing-song voice as he guided a gobsmacked Mark out of the apartment, closing the door behind them on their way out.

The apartment was silent now, you and Adam both stood, stunned, staring blankly at eachother. You would have kept this stand off going on forever, if you weren't so drained. You threw yourself down onto the couch and sighed exasperatedly.

"This is so fucking humiliating" you muttered under your breath.

Adam sat beside you. You held your head in your hands, eyes glued to the floor, but you could feel Adam's gaze burning into you.

"Y/n, I-"

"No, it's fine, like I get it. Last night was a mistake, it didn't mean anything. You don't have to tell me again." You snapped, not wanting to relive the heartbreak.

Adam exhaled

"I didn't mean that" he said quietly, his voice sounding shameful.

Suddenly, something inside you snapped. You were furious, he'd completely devasted you, and now he'd changed his mind?

"Then what the fuck do you mean?!" You blurted angrily, "you hate me one minute, you like me the next. What the actual fuck is your problem, Adam? What is it you want? Because in case you hadn't realised, you've given me some pretty mixed signals in the last 24 hours!"

"I want you!" He yelled "I mean.. I want to be able to want you" his voice was soft, gentle even.

Yours was not.

"Oh my fucking GOD. Do you only talk in riddles or something? What next, do I need to solve a fucking treasure hunt to find your missing brain?!"

"Y/n, no, please just listen.. okay? I just- man I thought I'd have time to plan this" he exclaimed to himself, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Look, if I don't get a straight answer in the next five minutes I'm walking out that door" you said, calmer now.

"Okay.. okay.." Adam breathed slowly, he seemed to be trying to find the words.

"Look," he began, "I'm in the weirdest place emotionally right now, I've always struggled with being vulnerable, but I mean, I'm so much worse these days. Ever since... well, you know..." he bit the inside of his lip and looked ahead, his eyes filled with sadness.

"I'm still trying to get myself back, and I don't know if the part of me that can let people in is ready.

If I let you in right now, I'm scared that I'll only hurt you further down the line, and I could never ask you to just wait around for me to get better."

He stared at the floor and sighed, feeling quite sorry for himself.

You considered what he had said for a moment, before finally speaking, much gentler this time.

"So get better now"

"What? Y/n, it's mot that simple"

"Yes, Adam, it is that simple" you said, your tone kind, but firm. "You say you're trying to get better at letting people in, and in the last 24 hours you've been more emotionally honest with your arch nemesis than you would ever imagine. Sure, it doesn't exactly scream stability, but that's part of the process. You're making progress" you took Adam's hand and brushed your thumb across his skin reassuringly.

"It's not gonna be easy, but if you don't take this chance and let me in then you're not moving forward".

Adam let out a half hearted chuckle, and wiped a few tears he hoped you hadn't seen from his eyes.

"I hate the fact that you're always right"

"Get used to it" you smiled warmly, giving him a playful nudge.

"Okay... so in the spirit of moving forward" he gulped, "would you uhh... be free for date sometime?"

He smiled sheepishly, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket. You noticed that his eyes seemed to look extra sparkly, as if there was hope and excitement in them for the first time in a while.

"I'm free right now" you giggled, placing your hand on Adam's cheek and leaning in to kiss him.

Adam's hands held onto your waist as he leaned into the kiss, gradually pushing you back onto the sofa. He kissed you deeper now, more hungrily, his fingertips were just brimming the hem of your shirt, when...

"Aaaand the two of you can go continue that "date" literally anywhere but my sofa" Mark exclaimed, bursting into the apartment, Scott following giggling like a schoolboy.

"Were you assholes listening through the door?!" You squealed, jumping up and adjusting your shirt.

"Hey, I didn't wanna, but Mark needed proof that he lost the bet!" Scott laughed, barely able to contain himself.

"Dude! Come on, that was priv- wait.. what bet?" You asked, more curious than annoyed by this point.

"I bet Mark that you and Adam secretly liked eachother, and now I'm 50 bucks richer" Scott said proudly.

"Never would've imagined you guys together" Mark admitted, "but you know what, I like this little dynamic. It's sweet, or at least it is when you're not tryna bang on my couch" he teased.

"Sorry about that, man" Adam chuckled, his cheeks reddening.

"Now, come on you crazy kids," Scott said, in a slightly patronising, but good natured tone, "get your asses down to some restaurant or something where you can sit and make googly eyes at eachother before me and Mark throw up"

...

You and Adam walked down the street after leaving Mark's apartment. Your hands brushed against eachother, and without words they were interlinked. Just to think, a couple days ago you would have thrown up at the thought of holding Adam's hand, but now it was all you wanted to do.

"So... a restaurant, huh?" Adam said, swinging your arms slightly.

"Hm" you tilted your head, "orrrrr... we could head back to mine, crack open a bottle of wine on the balcony... maybe fool around a little?" You looked at Adam with a cheeky grin.

"God, you just get me" Adam laughed, placing his free hand on your waist and planting a soft kiss onto your lips.

And it was indeed, a perfect date.

[kiritila]

Are you still gonna be updating no one saw me?

this is such a long time overdue, but since ive been away so long i figured this would be a good way to address everything, like whats been happening in my life and my future plans for no1sm for everyones clarity.

to put it shortly, i work full-time, and have done for nearly 2 years now. i am a product designer and i work monday-friday, 9-5. i attend a full day of college classes once a week, this day being even longer than a work day, and on top of that i have a personal work-based tutor that i have to complete work for as well. so in terms of professional obligations, im extremely busy. in my personal life, ive been seeing friends a lot, running errands, planning for weddings, parties, buying a car, SO MANY THINGS. my life has been so hectic.

ive also been suffering some health problems recently. my earliest or readers that are close friends probably know i began writing no1sm to vent my feelings about trauma i underwent, and this obviously still affects me quite greatly alongside depression and anxiety. ive also been suffering quite badly with insomnia and fatigue problems, as well as, embarrassingly, moderately bad eczema.

perhaps the most ridiculous development of all: I AM NOT CURRENTLY HYPERFIXATED ON SOUTH PARK. SHOCK HORROR. BUT PLEASE DONT PANIC: it is still my spin, stan and kyle are still my most favourite characters ever, and most of all i still ENJOY south park and enjoy thinking about, planning, and writing no1sm (when im not completely utterly knackered). ive actually recently gotten majorly into formula 1 as a result of my friends, so if there are any f1 fans following me PLEASE SAY HI!!!!! i plan to do art for it but i have been busy and im also very much a perfectionist. (FYI: my favourite driver is max verstappen. no questions asked. i also love charles daniel lando oscar and honestly most drivers on the grid. i love niki lauda james hunt seb vettel and jenson button. i had a brief mclaren tooned hyperfixation. I AM CURRENTLY INCREDIBLY DEPRESSED OVER DANIEL RICCIARDO LOSING HIS SEAT)

anyway.. getting back on track.

AM I STILL GOING TO BE UPDATING NO1SM?

YES. YES YES A MILLION TIMES YES. i dont know when, but this story is something i have to complete for myself and for you guys. i realised i was putting myself under so much pressure for it to be perfect that it sapped the love i felt for it from me. now that i no longer have visible eyes on me waiting for updates on twitter, i feel much freer and relaxed with it. i dont know how or when, but yes, the story will be completed. do not ask me about the kyle prequel ive planned though DONT DO IT.

i also dont plan on posting about updates anywhere other than tumblr going forwards. ive since moved on from the twitter south park fandom where i was most active, as i felt like i was too old to be in a fandom of minors and the discourse was simply too much. so i decided to move to a fan space and sport that is a million times worse but still somehow has been better for me. so if you still want to follow me on twitter even though i dont south park post anymore, you can follow me at @vrstappns :)

WILL NO1SM HAVE AN UPDATE SCHEDULE?

NO. sorry, my mental health and my career comes first. i want to try and find a better balance that leaves me time to write but im afraid i need time to ease myself back in after so long off and theres no guarantee how long that will take me.

WILL YOU STILL BE MAKING ART FOR NO1SM?

YES. I HOPE. who knows when though cause i havent been able to draw in a long time and im still pissed off that i cant draw max verstappen as easily as i could ever draw kyle broflovski.

AM I ALLOWED TO USE YOUR STORY AND WRITE THE ENDING FOR MYSELF?

NO. PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS. as much as other authors may encourage this I REALLY DO NOT LIKE THIS. you dont know how much work i have put into this fic as well as how much of my own life and traumas are embedded between the lines of writing. this fic is practically half of me in the same way my parents’ DNA is a part of my make-up. not to sound rude but to even think you could possibly imagine how i intend for this fic to resolve and end when you dont even know me is laughable.

HOW WILL THE INTENSE HOMOSEXUAL RIVALRIES OF FORMULA ONE INFLUENCE THE INTENSE HOMOSEXUAL RIVALRY OF STAN AND KYLE GOING FORWARDS?

im sure 2019 charles leclerc and max verstappen guided carefully by brocedes and james hunt and niki lauda will figure something out. maybe not brocedes actually i am unsure if i want stan marsh to end up like nico rosberg. but i guess he is a good youtuber too and has great hair which is two things stan is NOT. gay loser. also david coulthard and sebastian vettel are there somewhere. GAY RED BULL RACING WILL LEAD US TO WORLD PEACE

thank you so much for reading, i know youve all probably moved on with your life but its a weight off my chest to finally write this out. i love this fic and i love that you all love this fic, if you are still here. i can only apologise for how long ive made you all wait.

please just have patience with me,

thanks muchly,

mike (formerly marshplaylist) vrstappns

[justabigassnerd]

Summer of Love pt. 3

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

Word count - 6,041

Warnings - mentions of injuries and medication, little pinch of angst, fluff, mentions of Goose and Carole

Summary - while in the final stages of recovery after a mission gone wrong, Bradley signs himself up to work at a summer camp just for something to do since Maverick has barred him from Navy work for the time being. meanwhile, you're in between jobs and figure working at a summer camp is some good experience. you meet Bradley and experience a romance you could've never expected (along with some very nosy kids)

Summer of Love masterlist

A/N - wow I'm back with a new part of Summer of Love?? this was long overdue and I kinda went off on one here so I really hope I did this series some justice with the newest part. there's actually a part in here based off something that legitimately happened to me when I worked at a summer camp in America so there's a fun fact for ya :). anyway I won't ramble, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

Waking up to the sound of your alarm would normally fill you with a sense of dread at having to face a day of work, but since arriving at camp your excitement levels had been climbing with each waking moment. Today it felt like they were at an all-time high because today was finally the day that the children would arrive and camp would begin properly. You get up and change before making your way over to the dining hall to have some breakfast, greeting all your friends as you join them at the table.

“How are you guys feeling about the fact camp is going to be in full swing by tonight?” Ella asks, a clear excitement in her voice as she glances at each of you in turn, all of you nodding with wide smiles.

“I can’t wait for it to get started!” You reply, practically grinning ear to ear with excitement.

“It’s going to be one hell of an experience.” Bradley then says, his smile matching yours as the group of you continue to talk, trying to predict what the next two months could hold for you all until Kerry stands at the front of the room and addresses you all.

“Alright, you guys! As you are all aware, the kids will be arriving this afternoon so take the morning to make sure your cabins are spotless and welcoming for when the children and their parents arrive so they can feel settled the moment they arrive.” Kerry announces, looking around the room at all the excited members of staff who were eagerly anticipating the official start of the camp session.

After Kerry had finished explaining what would transpire when the children began to arrive as well as telling you what time they were due to arrive, you were all dismissed to go and finish preparing your cabins for the arrival of the kids.

You arrive back at your cabin and quickly get to work, writing out little notes for each girl assigned to your cabin and placing one on each of the beds in the cabin so the girls have a bed assigned but you weren’t going to be upset if they wanted to swap with someone else. As long as it was agreed upon and caused no arguments, you were happy for the girls to make their experience as good as possible in their own way.

Once you’ve placed the notes down on the beds, you do a sweep of the whole cabin, getting rid of any outside dirt that may have snuck its way in before wiping down all the bedside tables to rid them of dust that had settled over time. When you were satisfied that your cabin was completely tidy and looked welcoming enough, you got changed into the correct uniform you needed to be wearing for when the children arrived and made your way over to the staff lounge to relax and hang out with your friends before lunch.

Meanwhile, across the camp, Bradley was making similar preparations for his cabin. Unlike you, Bradley had not made any notes or anything similar to put on the beds. He had chosen to roughly sketch out a layout of the cabin and write names on each of the four beds in the cabin but he wasn’t going to put up much of a fight if they wanted to switch around. All Bradley could hope for was that none of the boys in his cabin had heavy gear that they would ask for a hand with. While Bradley had remembered to take his medication this time, his back was still not up to any heavy lifting tasks just yet. When Bradley was satisfied the cabin was clean after thoroughly cleaning as if he were back in the naval academy awaiting a room inspection, he changed into the appropriate uniform. He then made his way to the staff lounge as you had done.

“Hey, Bradley.” You greet him warmly the moment you notice him enter the room, smiling up at him as he crosses the room to sit on the sofa with you.

“Hey, y/n. Cabin all sorted?” Bradley asks with a smile, easing himself back against the sofa cushions as you nod your head.

“I think so. All it needs now is some campers. Are you all sorted?” You reply, smiling softly at Bradley as he mirrors your nod.

“Yeah, all sorted.” He says, smiling as you begin to talk about how excited you were for camp to start properly. Bradley thought you had the cutest smile, and that it was so cute seeing you so excited for this.

Before Bradley could continue his conversation with you, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he tilted his head slightly in confusion when he saw Maverick’s name displayed across his phone for a Facetime call.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve got to take this really quick.” Bradley excuses himself apologetically, grabbing his headphones from his locker and plugging them into his phone before sitting out on the porch and picking up the call.

“Hey, Mav.” He greets his godfather with a small smile.

“Hey, kid. I remembered you saying that camp officially starts this afternoon so I figured I’d get a last-minute call in before you’re too busy.” Maverick starts before Penny crosses to stand behind him, leaning over his shoulder so Bradley can see her.

“He means I reminded him.” She says, eliciting a chuckle from Bradley as she moves off camera again to continue with what she is doing.

“How’s things back home?” Bradley asks, partially curious as to how things at Top Gun have been, and partially trying to deal with his fear of missing out.

“It’s good. Pretty quiet without you and Hangman butting heads that’s for sure. But you know the Daggers, they’re able to keep me on my toes.” Maverick admits with a soft chuckle as he thinks back to all the shenanigans he’s had to put up with since becoming Captain of the Dagger Squadron.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I sort of miss butting heads with Jake. But don’t tell him I said that, his ego doesn’t need any more boosts, he gets enough from the women at the Hard Deck.” Bradley says, finding himself admitting something he thought he’d die before saying out loud.

“Your secret is safe with me Bradley. I will be honest, we do all miss you here. I wish nothing more than for you to be flying with us but I know I need to stick to my guns and let you finish up your recovery before you come back.” Maverick says, a solemn expression crossing his face as Bradley nods his head sadly.

“I understand, Mav.” Bradley says, sadness tugging lightly at his heart as he thinks of everything he is missing back in San Diego. He knew coming to work at a summer camp was his idea, and he was yet to have any regrets about it. But his heart still longed to be up in the air, flying with his friends and doing his duty.

“Your back isn’t giving you too much trouble is it?” Maverick asks quietly as if people were potentially listening in to their conversation. Bradley could only bring himself to shake his head at Maverick’s question, not trusting his voice enough to convince his godfather that his back wasn’t troubling him.

“Hey, Bradley. I just thought I’d let you know we’re heading over for lunch so you can come and join us whenever you’re ready. But don’t rush though. Finish your call whenever.” Bradley is shaken out of his pity party thoughts by your soft voice and gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning down and speaking softly so as not to cause too much of a ruckus while he’s on the phone before offering him a small smile when he looked up at you and then leaving the porch and crossing to the dining hall, Bradley’s gaze following you the whole way.

“Who was that?” Maverick’s voice snaps Bradley back to reality, feeling a slight blush cover his cheeks at being caught out.

“It was… uh- y/n.” Bradley stumbles over his words, only serving to deepen his blush as he watches Maverick raise an eyebrow.

“I see. Is y/n your girlfriend?” Maverick asks, watching and fighting back a laugh when Bradley’s eyes widen.

“No. She’s a friend who happens to be a girl. That’s it.” Bradley defends himself, trying to hide his feelings as Maverick hums in amusement, clearly not believing Bradley’s adamant denial of his feelings.

“Pete, leave Bradley alone.” Penny scolds in the background, shooting Maverick a look when he glances away from his phone to look at her, warning him to behave.

“Look Mav, I should get going if I want to get lunch before the kids arrive.” Bradley says, glancing over at the dining hall as he feels his stomach grumble at the thought of food.

“Yes, of course. Have a good time, kid. Message us when you can and I’ll keep you up to date on what the Daggers get up to.” Maverick says, smiling as he and Bradley bid each other goodbye before ending the call. Bradley pulls his headphones out with a sigh and moves to stand up, wincing when his back twinges in pain before shoving his phone back in his locker and crossing to the dining hall. He quickly plates up some food once he enters before scanning the room, unable to stop the smile from covering his face when he sees you sat with your friends, one seat free for him.

“Hey guys.” Bradley greets everyone at the table as he sits down, placing his plate down in front of him and digging in.

“Oh, Bradley you didn’t need to rush your call if you weren’t done I could’ve plated some stuff up for you.” You say apologetically, feeling bad that he ended his call so soon after you and the others came up for lunch.

“Don’t worry about it, Mav isn’t one for long calls anyway so we probably would’ve finished the call by now anyway.” Bradley says with a shrug, placing his fork down and lifting the cup of water to his lips.

“Mav? Who names their kid that?” Cameron asks, confused, glancing over at Bradley who quickly realises his slight error.

“My godfather is in the Navy, same as me. Mav is short for Maverick. That’s his callsign.” Bradley clarifies, receiving nods of understanding in response.

“Wait so if you’re in the Navy too, that means you must have a fancy callsign too. What is it then?” Nathan asks, causing a clamour of people wanting to know Bradley’s callsign as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“I’ve got enough people calling me by my callsign in my day-to-day life I don’t need to add you guys into it as well. It’s staying a secret sorry guys.” Bradley shrugs with a grin as everyone jokingly groans at the lack of a callsign reveal. As you finish up your lunch together, you are suddenly aware that it’s only a matter of time before the children start to arrive so with one last good luck to each other, you leave the dining hall and head your separate ways to your cabins to await the arrival of your campers.

You wait with a smile inside your cabin, you had the door propped open so parents and children alike could see that you were inside as you busied yourself with last-minute adjustments so you didn’t look like you were just sitting around bored.

“Hello?” You hear a voice come from behind you, making you turn to face the owner of the voice, seeing two parents and their daughter between them.

“Hello, it’s so nice to meet you! What’s your name?” You greet the three happily, welcoming them into the cabin and addressing the young girl who glances down at the floor, clearly shy.

“I’m Zoe.” She says quietly, fidgeting with the hair tie on her wrist.

“Hi Zoe, I’m y/n and I’m going to be your counsellor for the summer. Would you like to find the bed with your name on it?” You introduce yourself with a gentle smile before offering her something to do as she nods, creeping towards each of the beds in turn until she eventually points out the bed with her name card on it.

“Look at that Zo, you’ve got a great view of the lake isn’t that amazing?” Her dad states, glancing out the window that sat beside her bed, wrapping his arm around his daughter and looking at the view with her.

“It’s Zoe’s first time here so she’s a little nervous since it’s her first time spending a good chunk of time away from home.” Zoe’s mother sidles up alongside you to mumble and you turn to face her.

“That is completely understandable. My job is to make sure she has a great time here.” You say with a nod, understanding her potential homesickness and shyness in a new place. You then help get her bags in before Zoe’s parents bid her goodbye, leaving you to help her unpack her things with the space she has. You made small talk with Zoe, asking her about some of the activities she had signed up for and told her about how friendly the counsellors running those activities were so she felt less nervous about them. Soon another girl entered the cabin with her parents trailing behind.

“Hi, I’m Julia!” The girl introduces herself to both you and Zoe, leading her parents into the cabin and quickly locating the bed with her name on it as if she’d done it before.

“Wow, you knew to look for the name card, guess I’m not the first one to have tried it, huh?” You joke with a laugh as Julia’s parents set her bags down by her bed.

“This is my second summer here, and my last counsellor did the same thing so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check.” Julia says with a smile as she instantly starts to unpack her belongings.

“Well, I’m y/n and I’ll be your counsellor for the summer.” You introduce yourself to the young girl as she grins over at you. Julia’s parents mingle for a few more minutes, talking to you as Julia starts to make conversation with Zoe, helping her to break out of her shell a little as she shares some of her spare fabrics to make curtains for the windows as you smile at the interactions. Julia’s parents then said goodbye to their daughter who quickly hugged them goodbye before returning to her conversation with Zoe. Soon your last two girls arrived at the same time with their parents in tow.

“You two must be Louisa and Megan. I’m y/n, your counsellor.” You introduce yourself to the girls as you help their parents bring their bags into the cabin.

“It’s nice to meet you.” The two girls chirp in tandem, smiling and crossing to their beds and starting to unpack, introducing themselves to the others as their parents join you.

“These two have been best friends since birth. And they’ve been coming here since we found out about this camp so they definitely know how it works around here.” The woman who introduces herself as Louisa’s mother says as she watches her daughter happily interacting with her new cabinmates.

“They definitely look like they know what they’re doing.” You muse as you watch the two girls giving advice and helping Zoe and Julia set up their makeshift curtains before doing the same with the window nearest their beds before turning to you.

“Hey, y/n. Do you want some fabric for this little window here? That way you can have some privacy when you’re in your area of the cabin.” Megan asks, holding up some fabric as you glance from it to the little window that sits in the wall separating your cabin area from the girls.

“That’s a great idea, Megan. We can make them into little curtains so whenever we’re in here during the day I can have them open to keep an eye on you all.” You joke, eliciting giggles from all the girls as the parents chuckle too.

“Well, I guess we should be off then.” Both Megan and Louisa’s parents say, getting hugs from their children before bidding everyone goodbye and then heading out of the cabin to begin their journey home.

After they leave, you turn to your campers, a smile on your face as you watch them helping each other unpack and decorate the cabin.

“Alright girls, how about we get to know each other a little while we decorate? I know Megan and Louisa know each other but there’s no harm in being friends with your whole cabin is there? Why don’t we go around and everyone can introduce themself with their name and an activity they’re excited for.” You say, addressing each of the girls as they all nod glancing around each other, introducing themselves by name and naming an activity they’re excited for. Zoe was excited to learn how to waterski, Louisa was excited to horse ride, Megan was excited to audition for the camp musical, and Julia was excited to do some arts and crafts. It made you happy to hear how excited these girls were for the various activities the camp had to offer. You sat with the girls as they helped you make curtains out of the fabric Megan gave to you and once they were made you entered your part of the cabin and hung it up in the window, pulling them back and tying them back so they were open and you could see into the girls area of the cabin.

“I don’t know about you guys but I think we have the best cabin ever.”

Meanwhile, over in Bradley’s cabin he was just greeting the parents of the last boy to arrive in his cabin, he had already greeted Nick, Tom, and Alex so by process of elimination it was Lucas who had just arrived. He greeted the parents with a shake of the hand before introducing himself to Lucas and pointed out his bed so he could start to unpack.

“I hate to be a bother but Lucas’ trunk is a little heavy, we had to cart it down here. Do you think you could give me a hand bringing it into the cabin?” Lucas’ dad asks, looking very apologetic for having to ask in the first place. Bradley knew he should say no, he could picture his doctor and Maverick screaming at him to not help but Bradley couldn’t bring himself to turn down the ask for help.

“Of course, we’ll take a handle each.” Bradley says with a smile, stepping outside the cabin to where the small wooden cart with the trunk on was sitting. Bradley took one of the handles in his hand while Lucas’ dad took the other. Upon lifting it, Bradley was relieved to find out it was nowhere near as heavy as he had anticipated it to be, in fact, he was sure he could’ve carried it himself, but he couldn’t ignore the throbbing pain in his back when he lifted it so he did his best to get it into the cabin as quickly as possible.

“There we go.” Lucas’ dad says as he and Bradley put the trunk down on the floor for Lucas to begin unpacking.

“That hardly seemed like a problem for you.” Lucas’ mum praises Bradley, smiling as Bradley shakes his head with a chuckle.

“I’m pretty sure the bag I brought was heavier than that.” Bradley says with a laugh as Lucas’ parents exchange a look and laugh.

“Well, we’ll leave Lucas in your capable hands then. Have a good time son.” Lucas’ dad says, bidding goodbye to his son who says a goodbye in response before focusing on unpacking and making his bed while chatting with the other three boys in his cabin. Bradley then decides to make the effort to get to know the boys who very clearly all knew each other already and so strikes up a conversation asking what they’re looking forward to doing. Unsurprisingly, Bradley soon found out that most of the boys were excited to work on their sports skills, mostly in soccer, which meant Bradley had to make sure he was the best instructor he could be to help the boys get to the skill level they’d like to. Bradley continues to chat with his campers for a while, helping them set up their areas until he clocks the time on his watch.

“Alright guys, we should head out to the assembly point.” He says, remembering that there was a meeting to welcome everyone to camp before everyone was given the assigned table that they had to sit at for breakfast and dinner while at lunch they could sit wherever they wanted. Bradley ushers his campers out of the cabin once they’re ready and they make their way to the assembly point, finding a place to sit and waiting as more and more people arrive and find somewhere to sit. Bradley saw you arrive with your campers in tow, you had brief eye contact and you offered him a small wave before one of your campers pointed out a place you could all sit so you then followed her to the free spot.

Soon, Kerry stood before you all and welcomed all the campers to the beginning of camp, which was met with excited cheers from the campers as some began to murmur excitedly amongst each other until Kerry quietened them down, her smile still wide and welcoming. When everyone is calmed down again, Kerry explains that she’s going to call out the table number, and then the people who are sitting at that table. After she says the names, the people who were called out can go and sit at their assigned table and wait for everyone else. You all wait patiently as Kerry calls out the numbers and names.

“On table twelve we have Bradley, y/n, Molly, Jamie, Sophia, Seb, Eve, and Kevin.” Kerry calls out your name and you stand up, making your way towards the dining hall with the other people at your table, unable to suppress your smile as Bradley walks up alongside you.

“Guess we’re tablemates now.” Bradley jokes, smiling as the eight of you enter the dining hall, locating the table displaying the number twelve.

“I suppose there are worse people to be grouped with.” You say with a smile, giggling as Bradley jokingly scoffs and rolls his eyes as you all sit down at your table, waiting for the rest of the camp to go to their tables.

When everyone is sat at their tables, Kerry announces how breakfast and dinner will function. Everyone will sit at their tables after the morning and afternoon meetings and will wait as the tables are released to get their food by row, and every table is responsible for cleaning up after themselves. With the rules now established, the tables are released row by row to go and plate up their meals. When your table is released, you make your way up to the hot food bar and plate up some dinner before returning to your table and digging into your food as the rest of your table slowly returns.

“All I’m saying is the Daggers would be so jealous of the food we have here. The food in the canteen isn’t nearly as good as this.” Bradley says after a mouthful of food, glancing over at you as you nod in agreement. Knowing your friends from back home would be jealous of the food you were being served.

“What is the Daggers?” Jamie asks, looking at Bradley curiously as he exchanges a look with you, clearly unprepared for such a question.

“I’m a naval aviator and the Daggers is the name of my squadron.” Bradley explains with a small smile, seeing how the kid's eyes light up when he reveals his job to them. He is then bombarded with questions from curious kids who want to know more. They all seem to love hearing some of Bradley’s stories, he made sure to only pick the appropriate ones, mostly about his training and teammates.

“My dad used to be an aviator, his callsign was Diesel. What’s your callsign?” Sophia asks, which once again has all eyes on Bradley as he chuckles.

“That’s staying a secret from everyone. Not even the other counsellors know my callsign. I get called it enough to earn a little break.” Bradley says, earning a wave of groans and pleads with the promise it would stay a secret between the table but Bradley sticks to his guns.

“Sorry guys, some things just stay secret.” Bradley grins as he lifts his cup of water to his lips before taking a sip as there’s yet another ripple of groans from the children. You then effortlessly switch the subject and ask the kids what kinds of activities they’ve signed up for and Bradley can’t help but admire how good you are with the children and how you hold conversation with them, listening to them as if their thoughts and opinions were the most important thing to you.

Before you knew it, dinner was over and everyone made their way into the hall that functioned as a small theatre and a gymnasium to watch some of the counsellors take part in the counsellor variety show, some singing, some doing silly dances with their friends, and more. You were happy to sit at the back of the room along with the other counsellors to watch and enjoy the show. When the show was finished Kerry took to the stage to dismiss you all to head back to your cabins for the night and you gathered up your four campers and walked back up to the cabin with them while Bradley found his four.

“Are you guys good to head back to the cabin yourselves? I have something I need to do.” Bradley says and once they nod he sends them off to the cabin, instructing them to get ready for bed before he gets back, as they leave, Bradley heads in the direction of the nurse’s lodge, grabbing his medication from the bag with his name on and taking it with a swig of water before shoving it away and making his way back to the cabin where he enters his area of the cabin and changes into a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms and one of his shirts from his Navy training days before throwing on his beloved Eagles sweatshirt over the top to counter the chill he felt in the cabin. Once he was ready and checked with the boys that they had gotten changed, he entered their area of the cabin and leaned up against the wall asking how they all were.

“We’re good. Hey, what’s going on with you and y/n? You two looked really close.” Nick asks, getting a murmur of agreement from the rest of the boys while Bradley fights back a blush he knows is coming.

“We’re friends. We’ve been friendly since we met at the start of counsellor orientation.” Bradley says, not missing how the campers exchange a knowing look.

“Sure… well, Louisa from y/n’s cabin was at my table and she noticed it too so I bet she’s going to ask her as well.” Alex says, making Bradley let out a soft sigh.

“Look, don’t drag y/n into anything. We’re just here to do our jobs and make sure you guys have a good summer. It’s hard to do that when kids are bugging you about things that aren’t true.” Bradley says, an overwhelming urge to protect you from the pestering campers leaping out without a second thought.

“You sound pretty protective there, Bradley. Sure it’s because y/n is just a friend?” Tom says making Bradley roll his eyes biting his tongue so he wouldn’t seem so defensive and add fuel to their fire. All he could hope was that your campers weren’t putting you through the same interrogation.

“y/n, we saw you and Bradley laughing and chatting during dinner. Do you have a crush on him?” Louisa asks as you’re perched on the end of Zoe’s bed, book in hand to read to them as per their request.

“What?” You ask with a laugh, feeling your cheeks growing hot at the sudden question.

“All of us saw it. You were laughing and chatting with him. You totally have a crush on him.” Julia pipes up, making you let out a breathy laugh.

“We’re just friends girls. Friends laugh and talk together, especially when you’re the only two adults at the table. Bradley’s a nice guy to talk with.” You defend yourself, picking what you believe to be the most believable excuses to say as your cheeks grow hotter. 

“Okay.” Megan says, all four girls exchanging a look as you open the book to the first chapter, focusing on the page to calm down before looking back up at the girls.

“Are you ready for me to start reading now?”

About forty-five minutes later, you were quietly sneaking out of your cabin after lights out. Usually, you’d be granted from ten to midnight to have off while a few other counsellors were on patrol to make sure the cabins were covered. But since it was the first night of camp, you only got an hour instead of two but you were more than okay with that. You just wanted to stargaze for a while. You made your way to a small slope in the ground near the dining hall, sitting down on the grass and looking up at the stars, a soft smile on your face as you searched for constellations.

“Room for one more?” You hear about five minutes into stargazing and you look up to see Bradley smiling down at you.

“Of course.” You say with a smile, patting the grass next to you and waiting for Bradley to sit down, fighting the urge to raise your eyebrow at the smallest hiss of pain that escaped his lips as he sat down. Once he’s sat down, you both focus your gaze on the stars, watching them shine up in the darkened sky. You felt slightly awkward with Bradley sat alongside you after the questioning you received from your campers. They had hit the nail on the head with your crush on the tall aviator, but you had no clue how he felt about you and you treasured the newfound friendship with Bradley that you were more than willing to lock your feelings away to prevent heartbreak. After a brief silence, you clear your throat slightly and speak up.

“So you’re really not going to tell anyone your callsign? Not even the kids?” You ask with a smile as you glance over at Bradley who lets out a small breathy chuckle.

“I don’t think my ego could handle my callsign being public knowledge among the campers. It’s not exactly a callsign that strikes fear into the hearts of people.” Bradley says, explaining his reasoning and you nod in understanding.

“That’s okay. I didn’t mean to make it seem like you had to tell anyone if you didn’t want to.” You apologise, shifting your gaze back to the night sky as Bradley mirrors your actions before a comfortable silence falls over the two of you.

“Rooster.” Bradley says quietly after a brief silence.

“What was that?” You ask, turning to look at Bradley who somehow seemed perfectly illuminated under the moonlight.

“My callsign, it’s Rooster.” Bradley then says, shifting his gaze to meet yours, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“Rooster… I like it. What earned you that callsign?” You ask curiously, immediately wondering if you overstepped judging by Bradley’s expression and were prepping an apology before he spoke up.

“My dad’s callsign was Goose so I wanted to keep my callsign avian. Duck or Chicken probably weren’t the best choices so I ended up with Rooster. It’s not the most terrifying of callsigns but it’s good enough for me.” Bradley explains, glancing back up at the stars, wondering if his parents were up there together watching down on him as you listen carefully to his words.

“I think it’s lovely you wanted a callsign that could connect to your dad’s. Honestly, anyone who thinks that Rooster isn’t a scary callsign clearly has never been around a rooster because those things are scary.” You say, letting out a small laugh at the end of your sentence as Bradley cracks a smile of his own.

“So, is that why you didn’t want anyone to know? Because you’re worried it’s not considered cool enough?” You ask softly, curious as to whether that’s the only reason he won’t tell anyone.

“Well, there’s that. Then there’s the fact that more people in my life call me by my callsign instead of my actual name. I just want time to be Bradley.” He admits, gaze briefly flicking over to lock eyes with you once more before focusing back on the stars.

“You’re always going to be Bradley to all of us here. Even after we all head our own ways, everyone here is going to refer to you as Bradley.” You say with a smile, making Bradley nod slightly, his soft smile returning. Bradley was trying not to give away any of his supposedly obvious feelings towards you after the boys in his cabin grilled him about his feelings. He couldn’t keep lying to himself about his feelings anymore, but he didn’t want to risk the friendship he had with you. He didn’t want to scare you away. But you listened to him. You looked past Rooster and focused on Bradley. He realised then and there that he didn’t want anyone else but you.

“That will be nice. Just please don’t tell anyone my callsign.” Bradley asks, bringing himself back to reality and shifting to look over at you as you nod with a smile, moving to rest a comforting hand on top of Bradley’s entirely missing how his breath hitched at the contact because of how focused you were on the warmth of Bradley’s hand.

“Your secret is safe with me, Bradley.” You say, your voice no louder than a whisper, before removing your hand from atop Bradley’s, fighting back a frown at how cold you got the moment you moved your hand away while Bradley fought a frown of his own at the loss of the comforting feeling. The two of you look back up at the stars and continue to sit in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a yawn slips past your lips without warning.

“I think that’s my cue to go and get some rest. You should do the same. We’re going to need all the rest we can get.” You say, beginning to get to your feet as Bradley mirrors your actions, standing face to face with you as you smile up at him under the moonlight.

“Goodnight Bradley.” You mutter with a shy smile, getting the sudden confidence to wrap him in a quick hug that took him aback at how gentle your hold was, able to wrap his arms around you for a brief second before you pulled away.

“Goodnight y/n.” Bradley replies, his soft smile never fading as he watches you turn around and make your way to the girl's line and disappear into the darkness before finally turning around himself and making his way back to his cabin.

When you reached your cabin, you snuck into your area of the cabin quietly, pulling your hoodie off and hanging it on a peg before taking your shoes off and climbing into bed, tugging the covers over yourself as you lie down, thinking about the first full day of camp tomorrow, and the tall aviator with a moustache on the other side of camp.

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