#thread: was I supposed to swipe right or left

[jxrmngxndr]

Liyue’s famous Pearl Galley invites everyone on board for a true treat for ears and minds: a storytelling contest! In the finest company, to the smell and taste of the highest quality snacks and tea, you may choose the category you like best. A traditional folktale? A comedy? A ghost story? There’s even an amateur class competition if you’d like to try to tell a tale or two yourself! And remember to bring a friend along so that you can engage in a refined discussion of the story’s merits afterwards. It’s only proper. (starter for @cisoriaseams)

They kept handing him little plates.

Kevin was fairly certain that it was not the same waitstaff over and over, but a rotation of them, plucking the plate from his hands and replacing it with something else. It did not, entirely, seem to matter whether he had eaten (completely, or at all) what the plate contained, neither did it appear to be on a schedule that he could discern.

And he had been counting. The seconds, minutes, hours – the rotation of shifts, noticing when each staff member moved through the room, in and out of the crashing wave of the gathered guests, marking details of each one either through facial features or dissimilarities in dress (harder to do with a uniform, but there was enough individuality that he could keep a record in his head).

But regardless of all of this, no matter where in the room he milled or what he had in his hands, every so often someone would come by, smile politely and expectantly at him, and swap out the plate in his hand with something new.

He had known that it was to be a social event when he had arrived – neither in particular gravitating to the conceit, nor disconnected – but he had mostly expected for there to be a sea of the entirely unfamiliar to blend into, to float freely amongst those gathered and immerse himself in something new, for the first time in what felt like a very long time.

The amber eyes pinned him from meters away and Kevin, for the second time in what felt like a very short amount of time, could only blink at the approach.

He watched her, eyes flicking over the planes of her face in consideration, the set of her shoulders as she wove about the crowd, and there was a beat of silence wherein they simply stared at one another.

Then, he extended the plate, newly refreshed. "Meatball?"

I’m new to this was I supposed to swipe right or left sorry

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye. 

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app. 

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened. 

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever. 

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself. 

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent. 

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message. 

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot. 

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner. 

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”. 

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste. 

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out.  She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on. 

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place. 

Finally, you knock. 

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest. 

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer. 

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.  

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him. 

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.” 

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.” 

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.” 

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him. 

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.” 

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.” 

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen. 

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals. 

“Water is fine,” you tell him. 

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf. 

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed. 

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close. 

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence. 

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension. 

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.” 

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.” 

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.” 

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully. 

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now. 

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it. 

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering. 

It’s good. Better than most. 

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile. 

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin. 

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side. 

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.” 

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?” 

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.” 

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts. 

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. 

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands. 

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name. 

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you. 

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair. 

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom. 

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak. 

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow. 

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat. 

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment. 

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer. 

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest. 

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!” 

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen. 

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.” 

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

[reyalvr]

RUMORS!

I KNOW YOU HEARD THE RUMORS, YOU MUST GET OVER TO IT RIGHT AWAY!

synopsis ┊ ken sato- a remarkable name in the world of modern baseball- has graced japan with not only his presence, but also his skills as a key player for the yomiuri giants. from press conferences to media endorsements, it’s clear that his stardom has only intensified from his recent move. but what happens when you, his personal assistant, are left to deal with some more… serious rumors?

genre ┊ chaotic fluff, oneshot

pairing ┊ ken sato x gn-PA!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, ami is not the reporter depicted!

word count ┊ 2.2k

author’s note ┊ hiya! i recently found time to watch ultraman: rising and this fic was just writing itself in my head hehe… happy reading! (p.s. yes… the title was inspired from the new minions song)

THREE MONTHS. That was how long you had known baseball’s darling, Ken Sato. And in those three months, you had undergone every single PR nightmare you had ever conjured up in your mind prior to pursuing your career. You had worked with celebrities before- doing God knows what ‘til the waking hour on their every beck and call. But Ken, despite presenting himself as a laid back man, was an entirely new… experience. 

From the Kaiju attack at his first game under the Giants, to the continuous streak of losses throughout the first half of the season, it seemed like the Gods were against you as you did your damndest to handle the damage control on his reputation. His ego didn’t aid you either- having to spin and twist multiple incidents to get reporters and media outlets off his back. You weren’t exactly sure what it was that kept you from quitting all in all, but the longer you worked under him, the thinner your thread seemed to snap. 

You huffed an annoyed sigh into the cold air, picking up the pace as you jogged along the designated path by the bay. Your days off were scarce- not because of Ken’s schedule, but because of your own decision to be up to date with his spontaneous actions. Despite the rarity of solitude, you always managed to savor your time off. The music played at a mellow volume in your ears, the morning sun starting to warm your surroundings as you watched its rays splash hues of orange across the sky. 

Your felt your watch beep against your skin, signaling the end of your morning run. Pausing by the railing, you leaned against the old metal bars as you checked your stats. You swiped absent-mindedly on the screen of your smartwatch, scrolling once you were sure that everything was in order. There was one thing that caught your eye, though, as you noticed the red notification bubbles on your message app were continuously going up. It was odd, yes, but not odd enough to be out of the ordinary- at least in your line of work. 

Deciding not to bombard yourself this early in the morning, you opted to give everything a once-over once you made it back to your apartment. Whatever it was could wait- you were on your time and your pace. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad. Could it now?

IT DEFINITELY COULD, AND IT DEFINITELY WAS. You pushed on the gas as hard as you could, your tongue poking into your cheek as you continued to drive to Ken’s house. Of all the days that he decided to make perhaps the stupidest decision in his career, he chose today. Doing your best not to see red, you dialed his phone once more. The ringing played throughout your car as you maneuvered through the roads, and you swore for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning when you heard the tone of his voice message. 

Hey, it’s Ken. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll be more than happy to ignore it! Said his usual arrogant tone playing before the generic beep. You gripped the steering wheel harder, huffing angrily as you sharply turned a corner. 

“Kenji Sato answer your goddamn phone right now! I’m ten minutes away from your house and when I get there, I better not be greeted with your supposed secret love child!” You yelled, pushing the red button once you finished your message. 

Ah yes. The centerpoint of your current rage: Ken’s “leaked” one-on-one with a reporter about juggling baseball and his homelife. Someone on Ken’s staff had sent the article in your shared work group chat, and nearly all of his personnel had directly messaged you about the issue. It was inevitable for celebrities to get into a scandal once or twice, but one on this level would not be an easy fit to overcome. 

You don’t exactly remember what you were doing prior to receiving the messages- all you knew was that you needed to get to Ken as soon as possible. Of course it just be a misunderstanding, hell it could even be a hoax! But knowing Kenji, anything could be possible. You neared the hill of his private property, driving past the gates as the security recognized your car.

You parked haphazardly at the front of his house, your feet stomping into the gravel as you made your way to his front door. His estate had numerous smart tech installed throughout his home, so you knew that each and every one of your moves were either being recorded or observed. You crouched slightly to be in frame with the doorbell’s camera, your anger slightly toned down.

“Ken.” You paused to narrow your eyes. “Open the door.”

For the next minute and a half you swore you could hear some sort of clash and bang from inside the house. You kept your arms crossed, raising your eyebrow from time to time when the clashing seemed to grow louder. After what felt like an eternity, the front door opened slightly. Not all the way, but just enough for Ken to peek out and smile at you- albeit nervously cocky.

The nerve.

“Hey, [Y/N]! What uh- what are you doing here?” He manages to cough out, roughly combing a hand through his hair. “I thought it was your day o-”

“Save it.” You reply, your gaze sharp enough to slice through whatever excuse he had at the ready. You held up your phone then, the article’s headline prominently bolded:

OUT OF LEFT FIELD: Ken Sato Strikeout? Nope! Love Child Home Run!

Ken���s head bent down to get a good look at what you were showing him, and you watched carefully as his eyes scanned over the article not once, but thrice. You let out an impatient hum, your mouth forming into a slight scowl as the both of you stood in silence. With your head tilted to the side, you dropped your hand back down and crossed your arms. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to start explaining to me what the hell you’ve been up to these past twenty-four hours?” You question, moving past him as you enter the house. 

Usually you would wait for Ken to let you in, but stalling would only hinder you from coming up with what to do next. The article had already been up for two hours, and you halted any statements from being made before you could get an explanation from Ken himself. He quickly tailed after you, nearly stumbling over himself as you stopped at his kitchen. You gripped the marble countertop, closing your eyes momentarily before you turned to face him once more. 

“[Y/N] I swear, it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Ken says as he tries to add reassurance to his tone, but it doesn't mask the lingering tinge of falsehood.

“Oh, really?” You say, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Because in the span of two hours I have had thirty news outlets blowing up my- your management team for a response!”

He opens his mouth to speak, but stops again midway when you continue. “The headline I showed you was local. I want you to tell me exactly how and why you were on the phone with a reporter talking about your private life at God knows what hour. Now.”

You can see him swallow, licking his lips after as he tries to form the right words. He blinks a bit before pinching the bridge of his nose, tilting his head up as he lets out a deep sigh. When he opens his eyes he’s still greeted with your restive stance. Still he remains slightly hesitant, but he does end up recalling the remnants of his conversation with a reporter he had met at one of the parties he attended. Ken goes on to explain that he had only seeked out advice. His schedule, his personal life- he needed an outlet. You can feel yourself slowly untense, though you continued to listen to make sure all your facts were straight.

When he finishes his retelling, he puts his hands up slightly- as if he were trying to put you at ease. “I swear, that’s all I said. I thought,” He pauses, his brows furrowing in a way that made you slightly mad at yourself from blowing up at him. “I just thought I could have a normal conversation for once. ‘Guess I was wrong.”

The warm lights cast a sombre shadow on his features, and from this angle you notice the worn out expression painted on his face. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual, not to mention the fading bruises from his latest altercation with one of players from his opposing team. In front of you was not Ken Sato, this was Kenji; Simply a man who was thrust into a new life without the needed support. 

“Well, no shit.” You say, finally breaking the silence, you fix your posture against the counter as you tone down the anger in your voice. “Jesus Ken, sometimes I wonder how you were able to maintain your career before me.”

At that he lets out a soft laugh, his dull expression slowly fading. “Yeah, I do too.”

You give him a puzzled look before you reply. “Are you mocking me?”

“No! No, I was being serious.” He says, his smile dropping slightly. “I know I haven’t been an easy task, hell you’re here on your day off for Christ’s sake.” 

You hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly as you push yourself off the counter with another awkward cough. In all ninety days of working under Ken Sato, never has the man gotten this sentimental with you. You decide not to linger on his words, your attention going back to the problem at hand. 

“Right, well,” You sigh, whipping your phone out in the process. “I need you to give me the name of that reporter. I’ll get the legal team to draft an NDA breach.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows then, looking at you as if you’d said something odd. “I didn’t make him sign an NDA though?”

You only give him a smile, a hint of confidence plastered on your lips. “I know. I have my ways, Sato.”

“You’re a pretty good assistant, then.” He replies, the corners of his lips going up slightly as he keeps his arms crossed. 

“I’m an excellent assistant.” You correct without looking at him, your fingers tapping away at your phone as you prepare the next steps of your plan. 

Ken can only chuckle in agreement, tapping his fingers on his forearm as he awaits your next set of instructions. Within the next twenty minutes you’ve sent out the necessary details to your team, your legs kicking as you sit on one of his bar stools. He’s stood across from you, leaning on the countertop looking at you intently as you explain the response plan. 

“And lastly,” You say, sliding out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

 His head tilts, the same confused expression on his face. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Your hand curls, motioning for him to hand his phone over. “No, I am not installing a monitor.” You add when you see his mouth open to interrogate you. 

He slides his phone over with a defeated huff, and you open a new contact page on his contacts. “If you need to talk, do it with someone who won’t leak your shit.” You say, sliding back his phone when all your details are settled.

“I have your number though, don’t I?” Ken questions, looking over at the number you inputted. 

“You had my work number. Now you have my personal phone.” You point your finger at him before continuing. “Don’t abuse it. I’m still your assistant.” “Wasn’t gonna, sweetheart.” He says, an amused smirk mixing in with his addled look. 

You quirk your eyebrow at the nickname. You shake your head, hopping off the stool as you make your way back to the front door. Ken follows behind you, hands in his pockets as he watches you leave. Before you can open the door though, you look back at him one last time. 

“I mean it, Ken.” You say, making sure it gets through his head. “You have a problem, tell me. You need a solution, you tell me.”

“I know, I know.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the door. “Go enjoy the rest of your day off before I start thinking you care about me.”

“I do. It’s my job to care about you, Ken.” You reply, giving him a look before you open the door. “Whether you like it or not, I’m your lifeline. At least until you get rid of me, which won’t be happening for a good while.”

“Oh yeah?” He jests, his cocky demeanor slowly coming back. “‘You so sure about that?”

“Extremely sure.” You’re standing outside now, slowly walking backwards. “Twenty minutes ago people thought you had a secret love child and that you were a terrible father. Now you’re back on the face of KFC as baseball’s darling.” 

He’s taken aback. Was he actually booted off of his collaborations? He hastily checked his phone, scrolling through all his platforms. To his surprise, he was greeted with… his usual feeds. No sight of the article, no lingering gossip. His ads had doubled, his partnerships boosted on the products he had endorsed. He looked back up to say something, but you had already started your car. You backed out his estate, giving him a smile through the tinted glass of your windshield. 

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. You were right. But who was he kidding?

You always were.

[pinkyqily]

IT'S OKAY, WE'RE OKAY, WE ARE DEFINITELY NOT OKAY JUJU WATKINS x READER

Summary: After the losing game against Iowa, you and juju get into a nasty argument that leads to your teammates separating the both of you.

Warning: Angst Angst Angst, swearing, throwing shit around, bad juju and reader

Authors note: The match was something, so that is why we get angst for times like this, anyways happy reading feedback and requests are always appreciated 💕.

Tension within the team was high no one said a word as everyone entered inside the bus. All you wanted to do was sit down next to your girl and comfort each other, but that was a no brainer as she passed by and ignored you.

Her ignoring you kinda hurt but you weren't gonna push past it. You tried sending her texts only for her to swipe them each time, you saw her groan turning off her phone.

A pit was forming down your stomach but you ignored the feeling like a fool.

You knew the type of player juju was when things don't go the way they were supposed to. Right now with the loss she was definitely beating herself up over it. no one likes to lose, especially to a team that wears the ugliest shade of yellow.

Arriving at the hotel felt like you were about to step into a battle zone. Once again you tried getting juju's attention by grabbing her hands, but all she did was yank her hands away from yours like you were some insects coming to disturb her.

You tried one last time by tapping her shoulder until she finally snapped at you, raising her voice, something that she's never does always trying her best to be calm with you.

"Bro what the fuck do you want can you not get the hint that maybe I do not want to deal with your shit tonight". You heard her say which was shocking. Because she never had an outburst likes this not even infront of your teammates or others, so her doing this just made you feel like an attention seeker which made you embarrassed.

"First off, watch how you're talking to me because I do not curse at you whatsoever and all I was trying to do was comfort my teammate who thinks the whole world is on her shoulders when the team has a few bad games but it fuck me right?." You said to her.

a few of your teammates who hadn't head upstairs came to where you and juju trying to calm things down, but that only made things escalate.

"Wow this coming from the player that left the 3 pointer line all wide fucking open and probably cost us the game". The moments those words came out of juju mouth she insanely regretted them but it was to late because you already heard them.

"I'm so sorry that not everyone can be there own fucking Judea watkins that's oh so prefect". You threw back at her tears clearly streaming down your face

It was too late for juju to say anything as kiki and Ray came separating the both of you.

The looks from your coaches were equally heartbreaking because no one wants to witness their best players tearing each other to threads.

A wave of guilt filled juju as everything she said to you hit her like a brick stone she was obviously in her head and wasn't thinking at all but the damage was already done. She made you cry and hurt you're feelings what type of girlfriend and teammate was she?. Was all she wondered now.

You we're already walking off with kiki.

She tried saying something but was cut off by one of the coaches who told her not to.

"It not worth it juju just head back upstairs, we'll be having a serious talking about both of your behaviors ray please help juju up to her room". she heard coach say, heading back the other way with ray, head facing down has she pulled her hoodie strings ashamed of how she acted.

What she didn't see was the way you turned around, hoping for her to say something at all it could've been anything but she didn't.

Only leaving both of you to sleep with heavy hearts having a thin wall separating you once more, you guys were definitely not okay and no one was okay.

[fullofbees]

@pompeiisystem requested: #135 With Beel and a easily flustered mc? Please I'm begging I love the big himbo man with every inch of my heart lol

CW: Talking about masturbation

»»----------► GN!Reader

“Beel, look how many likes your devilgram photo got!” You cheer, showing the gluttonous demon your phone screen.

The post was meant to be inspirational, in a cheesy influencer way, at Asmo’s suggestion. The first showed Beelzebub before Fangol practice, sitting on a bench in the locker room. One hand is slipping on his cleats while the other shovels chips into his mouth. Swipe left, and you’ll find the after photo; Beel grinning in his sweat-drenched jersey, cheeks rosy from exercise, a towel slung across his shoulders. Nobody knows that he’s smiling because, behind the camera, you’re bribing him with food so he’ll stay still for the picture.

“We eatin’ good tonight, chat. Everyone say thank you Beel for the meal?” He reads aloud, head tilted in confusion.

Your eyes widen as you look back to the screen, noticing the top comment under the post. The replies are filled with equally thirsty comments and very suggestive emojis.

The heat of embarrassment starts at the tip of your ears, making its way down your face and neck. Of course, you agree wholeheartedly with the commenters. Beelzebub has no business being as attractive as he is; solid muscle that could hold you like it was nothing, large hands that are used to stuffing-

The demon interrupts your runaway thoughts, “Wait, what does that one say?” He points to another comment with a crumb-riddled finger.

“Oh! Um,” you hum, willing your eyes to focus on the text, “New... masturbation material...”

When you look at the demon, he is already distracted by the TV - an ad for a local restaurant. He doesn’t seem bothered at all.

“Sorry, are these not... weird to you?”

“Not really,” he says as he opens his next snack, “Everyone needs something to fantasize about.”

Don’t remind me. Too many nights have you spent alone in your bed, hand between your legs, fantasizing about the demon just down the hall from you. Would he be fast and rough, or would he take his time? Would he savor you like a delicacy, or would he devour you whole in his hunger? Why did the image of bruises in the shape of his bite excite you so damn much?

“I suppose you’re right,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. This is not a conversation you ever imagined having, nor did you expect Beel to be so nonchalant about it. Compared to your flustered state - if this were one of Levi’s manga, then blood would be dripping out of your nose right now - Beel is almost statuesque in his composure.

“I’ll be honest: I get off to the thought of you.”

Scratch that; blood would be pouring.

You’d bury your face in your hands if it weren’t for the fact that you’re frozen in shock. Beel’s calm demeanor cracks slightly; a faint blush blossoms on his face as he fidgets, one hand nervously clutching the other’s wrist.

Lips part to break the awkward silence, but your mind is blank, and any words mustered die in your throat. Excitement, lust, and anxiety overwhelm you in waves. The crash comes when your phone clatters to the floor, having slipped from your increasingly sweaty grip.

Both of you react, reaching for the device at your feet. Your fingers brush together, and you must bite your lip to keep yourself in check.

Beel doesn’t move, eyes fixed on the sight of his hand easily dwarfing yours. It isn’t until you clear your throat that he returns to wringing his wrist in worry.

Neither of you speak, yet neither of you leave. You begin to mirror Beel, fingers nervously picking at loose threads hanging from your sleeves. It takes a moment for your heart to settle, for your sinful curiosity to outweigh your apprehension.

Your voice is quiet, but not hesitant when you ask, “What do you think I taste like?”

Beel’s stomach roars in its familiar hunger.

“Will you let me find out?”

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

A/N: Sorry there's no actual smut TvT but I love flirty dialogue that allows your mind to wander ;3

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi 😊

From crab dance prompt list 57.Love letters written in the dead of night for Terry and Georgia please 💞

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @mia1653 @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989

I can not believe how quickly this turned NSFW - it is the curse if Terry Silver.

Companion piece to:

Colic - Terry steps in when he realises you're struggling with Sebastian.

It’s three in the morning and Terry is standing in the kitchen with Sebastian tucked into the crook of his arm, guzzling the bottle of formula when he spies the pink heart-shaped post-it stuck to tiny cardboard box on the counter.

“What has mommy left for us little one?” He murmurs to his son as he tilts his head to read the note you’ve written.

For all of those 3am feeds, the post it reads, and for saving my sanity.

He hooks his finger on the lid of the cardboard box, lifting it to see a cupcake.  Not just any cupcake, but a red velvet one from the Hummingbird Bakery, Terry’s favourite patisserie in LA. There’s tiny red hearts sprinkled on top of cream cheese frosting. He swipes his finger through it and the way it tastes on his tongue is utterly divine.

It’s a such a thoughtful token of appreciation, he can’t help but smile as he flicks the post it over so he can write his own note.

Wake me up at the 6am feed and I’ll lick the icing off you. This is an order! X

He wakes up to the sensation of your mouth on him, that wet, hot heat enclosing around his cock as his fingers thread through your hair, hips arching.

“This is not what I had in mind.” He mumbles into the pillow as his dick kisses the back of your throat. Your eyes flicker up to meet his and that doe eyed innocence has him erupting on your tongue, his release spilling into your mouth as you swallow every single drop. He’s breathless as you kiss a heated trail up his chest, draping yourself over his spent form. His palm slips under the elastic of your silk pyjama shorts, smoothing over your ass as you nuzzle into the curve of his throat.

“You’re a bad girl.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over your temple. “I was supposed to fuck you stupid this morning.”

“I’m sure you can get it up again for me.” You tease, your breath ghosting in his ear as his hand slips between your thighs, coating his fingertips with your wetness. You sigh contently as he dips inside of you, fingers lightly pumping.

“I think you were right.” He whispers, using his free hand to guide yours to his stiffening cock. “You’ll be getting that fucking after all.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[hippolotamus]

Sentence Sunday ✨

I can show you lies 'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did Lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die I was grinning like I'm winning, I was hitting my marks 'Cause I can do it with a broken heart

Beloved mutuals and pocket pals... I honestly don't know what to say for myself. This is a case of 'I listened to a song too much, I had an idea I knew I was never gonna write' turned 'I'll just throw it out as a prompt' --> 'I'll just make a moodboard' --> 'Oh god, I've written over 1k words in place of a summary'. SO. Have... whatever this is, T Swift influenced Buddie actor au. Under the cut to save your dash.

Honestly, if the world still exists in the morning, Eddie Diaz doesn't really give a fuck. His girlfriend left, claiming he's still not over his late wife, and his teenage son, the last thread connecting him to said wife, went to go live with his grandparents. After, of course, blaming Eddie for pushing 'yet another one' away. Christopher wouldn't even look at him before he went.

Then there's Anita Mills, his agent, who is probably a few blood pressure points away from a stroke at this point. Assuming she doesn't fire him first.

Let her, he thinks, grabbing a bottle of Maker's Mark from the cabinet. He has a string of blockbuster films to his name, not to mention a commendable collection of Oscar's and Emmy's. Not that they made his parents proud or kept his wife from leaving him before she died. But they exist as proof that he's had a successful career. Between investments and liquid assets he has more money than he would know what to do with in a hundred lifetimes. So, fuck it.

Eddie breaks the wax seal and twists off the red cap. He doesn't even bother with a glass, not really seeing a need. He's never been a big drinker, but lately his tolerance has grown considerably. Indulging until he passes out seems like an ideal use of his time right now anyway. If he wakes up after? Well, he'll consider that a success.

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

"Hey! What the hell?!" Eddie manages, coughing and trying not to choke on the ice cold water hitting his body. He opens his eyes to see Mills towering over him, glowering and holding an empty vase. He swipes a hand across his face. "Seriously, Anita, what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know, Eddie, you tell me." She disappears for less than a minute, returning with a hand towel she unceremoniously drops on his chest. "Help me out here. What's today?"

He wriggles himself to something resembling sitting and leans back against the coffee table. "What's today?" He parrots back dumbly.

Anita crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow. "I asked you first."

Today, today, today. Where was he supposed to be- "Shit! The interview with, uh, fuck." He snaps his fingers and racks his brain trying to remember a name or a face. All he knows is they're important.

"Claudette Collins. Very good, Eddie, you got it part way."

"Give me ten minutes, I'll put myself together and we can go," he says, fighting the violent wave of nausea that hits as he scrambles to stand up.

"Save your poor carpet from getting puked on and sit the hell down."

"What? No, I can-"

"Eddie," Anita interjects, "the interview was five hours ago. The interview with the Claudette Collins. The one that took me months of phone calls, groveling and cashing in favors to get for you."

Fuck. "Anita, I'm so sorry. How-"

"Save it." Anita holds her hand up, effectively silencing him. It takes him back to being seven years old and having to explain why his dad's truck had an enormous dent in it. She rests her hands on her hips, pacing back and forth as she purses her lips. Eventually she sits in the leather armchair situated in the corner. "Eddie, you and I have known each other a long time. A long time. I've been your agent since you walked into my shitty office back in Dallas. Given your impressive display of awards, I'd say we've done pretty well together."

She inhales sharply, rubbing at her temple. Anita doesn't mince words, it's part of why he's always liked her. He never has to question where he stands. She says 'jump' and he knows exactly how high. It's not difficult to guess what's coming next.

"Eddie, I know you're going through a rough patch. What you're dealing with is hard enough without seeing it splashed on every tabloid and trashy website. Not to mention none of those places knows the real story, so it's all a bunch of 'she said he might have said' bullshit. But you've made it through tougher things." Anita doesn't need to clarify that she's talking about Shannon's death and how his parents tried to take Christopher. "I don't know what's happening this time, but I need to take a step back. My wife has made it very clear that all of my attempts at stress management are not working and that if I can't get it under control I shouldn't be surprised when I come home to an empty house. So."

Eddie swallows, waiting for the inevitable and cursing himself for pretending he wouldn't care.

"I've talked to a few friends in the business and found someone willing to take you on."

What?

"What? You're not firing me?"

Anita's features soften. "Technically, yes. I am very much dropping you like a scorpion I found in my boots. However, like I said, I found someone willing to work with you. The name is Bobby Nash. He runs a smallish agency but don't let that throw you. He's cobbled together some pretty impressive talent. I assume you've heard of Evan Buckley?"

Eddie scoffs. "Of course I have. Who hasn't? Christ, he's everywhere you look. I can't pass a damn bus stop without seeing his face." A few details begin to click into place within Eddie's muddled brain. "Bobby Nash is his agent?"

"Sure is. And we all know the stories about Evan's past aren't the type you trot out at parties. My advice is that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, go with Nash and do whatever he tells you to do. He even has a role in mind for you, costarring with Buckley. What do you say?"

What else was there to say? If Eddie didn't want to get blacklisted or wind up as some washed up tragic Hollywood story, being gossiped about where everyone - including his son - could see what a failure he was...

"I guess I say- when can I meet him?"

"Good answer." Anita clasps her hands together and gives him her signature smirk that tells him she approves. "Just leave everything to me."

Up to this point, Eddie has trusted Anita implicitly with all the messy business that comes with having him for a client. Why stop now?

tagged by @loveyouanyway @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @tizniz

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@daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

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@steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes

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@thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

[thatgirlonstage]

mermay prompt: JamiKali + gold?

I'm not entirely happy with the way I ended this one but if I keep picking at it I will run out of time to work on other prompts so I'm calling it good. Keep an eye on the Ao3 collection next year, I might put a revised version up once I've had longer to sit on it. I really like the worldbuilding concept I'm playing with, anyway :3

(also I hope you see this, nonny — sorry for taking most of the month to get to it!!!)

———

Mermaids cry pearls and their scales are made of gold.

Those are the kinds of myths that Jamil grows up hearing, circulating in whispers through the bazaar, repeated like a dreamy incantation by traders in their cups, posted in hashtags below visibly photoshopped images of supposed beachside treasures.

“If only they knew, huh Jamil?” Kalim giggles by his side, letting silk run over his hands like water. When his fingers lift away, there’s an embroidered pattern of fish leaping along the edge of the headscarf, flashing in the sunlight. Kalim’s smile is brighter than the pure silver of the thread, a searing thing, white teeth a slash in his brown skin. “I don’t think these people even believe mermaids really exist.”

Jamil bites down hard on the urge to tell him to shut up. Drawing any attention will only make Kalim’s remarks seem significant to anyone who already overheard them. He bites down so hard that his lip splits. He tastes iron. Kalim, brow furrowing, reaches up and swipes a thumb over Jamil’s mouth.

When mermaid blood is spilled on sand, it turns into rubies.

“Are you all right?” Kalim asks, popping his bloodied thumb back out of his mouth. “You’ve been so quiet today.” He spits a shard of something glittering and red into his palm, considers it, and discards it on the ground. A moment later, Jamil hears a muffled exclamation from behind them. He does not look back. Looking back will only draw attention. People exclaim in bazaars all the time.

“It’s too hot,” he says by way of excuse. “It’s making me tired.”

Kalim pokes him in the shoulder, a friendly reproach. “You should have said! I would’ve come on my own. It’s only the groceries.”

“Last time I let you go on your own, you left an entire frieze of the legend of Sinbad carved over the entrance of the fish merchant’s stall.”

Mermaids have sea silk for hair. I bet if you plucked a mermaid’s eyelashes they’d be made of saffron.

Kalim laughs, the sound high and bright and as bubbly as a stream. “I forgot about that! The poor man was so confused.” He trails just the edge of his pinky finger along a piece of pottery, and the mosaic pattern gains a thin golden outline. “I’m sorry I make you worry, but it’s just that your magic is so abundant, I’m overflowing all the time.” He leans up and presses his lips to Jamil’s cheek. “Take a little back, okay? It’ll help me behave.”

When a mermaid kisses you, forever after, every time you speak, gems will fall from your lips.

Jamil feels his own magic surge backward into his skin, electricity racing up and down his spine. It sits there, crouching in his nerves, making every hair on the back of his neck stand up, locked in his blood. He inhales sharply and lets the breath hiss back out between his teeth.

“Warn me when you’re about to do that,” he says. “It’s not exactly comfortable.”

“Oops.” Kalim looks contrite. “Sorry, I gave you back a little more than I meant to!” He reaches as if to take some of it again, but Jamil jerks his head away.

“It’s fine.” The magic pulls at his tendons, crackling with unreleased potential. He grits his teeth against the scraping, scrabbling, screaming need for release, the way it hits a wall at every turn. Kalim is at least no longer quietly turning every pebble he steps on into sea glass.

“Your magic really is just that potent,” Kalim tells him, settling back into his place next to Jamil, grin diamond-white in the afternoon sun. “I can make anything you want, Jamil.” He slides his hand into Jamil’s, interlocking their fingers. “Just ask. Whenever you want anything, just ask and it’s all yours.”

Jamil hopes the smile he gives in return looks less forced than it feels. He can’t bring himself to speak, to tell Kalim the truth. He only breathes and lets himself imagine the contact of their palms makes his magic trickle back into Kalim a little faster, that the pounding desperation in his skull to let the magic out of his skin is a little lessened, that the tightness of his jaw is due to sun and stress and hours spent with Kalim as company, and not a curse weaving its prohibition into his tongue and teeth, stopping any spell from passing his lips.

If someone asked Jamil Viper to tell them a story about mermaids, this is what he would have said:

It’s true, mermaids can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.

But they can’t do it alone. They have to borrow your magic.

If you wish, you can promise them magic in return for jewels, for gold, for pearls, for anything your heart could desire.

So go to the river if you want, trail a finger in the water under the full moon, and send out a spark to let one of them know you want to talk.

But be careful.

Once you’ve made a pact with one it cannot be undone.

They will stay bound to your bloodline forever.

———

Mermay prompts are open until May 31st!

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.5

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which you are days away from starting your program and anakin gets used to tour life without you by befriending the sometimes overly-flirty photographer.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4K FOLLOWERS MWAH

You throw your bag onto your twin sized bed with a huff. 

After sitting through a two and a half hour seminar about your program, you left that building knowing nothing more about it than you did a week ago. You didn’t even get to meet your instructor, despite being informed that he would try and make it to the orientation day. 

Alas, he was a no show, and you really hope he is more professional than this first impression of him. 

You sit next to your bag and play with the zipper for a bit as you glance around the room. It was nice, sure, but you quickly discovered that nothing compared to the room you shared with Anakin back in your apartment. Having just your things on one side of the room looked wrong. Your books on the shelf looked wrong without having his sheet music next to them. Your cardigan that was hung up in the wardrobe looked wrong without one of Anakin’s leather jackets next to it. Even your bed looked wrong since it wasn’t big enough to hold more than one person comfortably. 

Sure, Anakin’s bunk on the bus was a lot smaller, but it still felt more right than sleeping by yourself does. 

You bite down on your lip as you pull out your phone and check the time.

Since it had been a few days since you last saw him, the time zone difference between you and Anakin was going to be a bit difficult to figure out. He was in Norway now, so thankfully there was only an hour difference, and you were able to figure out what he could possibly be doing right now. 

It was nearing six PM now, and he and the guys would be set to be on stage within another hour or so, and you really wanted to talk to him. 

Your fingers play with the thread on your blanket as your free hand types out a quick message. 

Ani, I miss you. Are you able to talk for a second? 

And you were barely able to swipe out of the text app before he was calling you. Bringing your phone up to your ear, you greet him with a dumb smile painted on your lips, “Hi, Ani,”

You hear him sigh quietly as you pull at the thread some more. “Hi, baby,” he says back and your smile only grows. “I miss you, too. So fucking much, I’m going insane.”

You laugh and move to sit further back on your bed, bringing your knees up to your chest with a shake of your head. “No, you’re out touring the world. You’ll forget all about me soon enough,”

Anakin laughed and the sound had your body tingling. “Yeah, and I’ll also become the next president. Add that to the list of things that will never happen,” he says and you blush a bit as you lean back against your pillow. “How was that orientation thing? Is your instructor nice?”

You chew on your chapped lip as you debate on whether or not you should tell him that you had a pretty bad day now or after he was done with the show. You didn’t want him worrying about you before he was supposed to go on stage, and you also didn’t want to come off as some sad girl who had a shitty day just because she wasn’t able to spend it with her boyfriend. 

“It was fine,” you answer and pull the blanket up from its spot at the end of the bed. You loosely throw it over your legs and resume pulling at the threads. “A bit boring, but that was to be expected, I guess. I met this guy who is in the same program as me and we made plans to get coffee at some point. His name is Evan. And my instructor was a no show, so I didn’t get to meet him.”

You hear muffled sounds coming from his end before he was mumbling an, “Oh, that’s….professional,” 

You laugh quietly, looking over at the curtain covered window with a soft sigh. “I really do miss you, Ani,” 

He had only been gone a few days, but you couldn’t remember a time you felt this fucking lonely. You felt a bit pathetic, but could you really be blamed?

“I miss you, too, princess,” he said just as quietly, and it felt like the two of you fell into your own little world. “It’s weird not having my cheerleader waiting backstage for me.” 

You groan and lean back  against the headboard. “Don’t remind me,” you mumble. “I can only imagine all the girls who would swap places with me right now to be your cheerleader, and how many think I’m fucking stupid for being here and not with you.”

“Hey,” he scolded. “You are not stupid. I’ve said it so many times now, but I’ll gladly say it again; I’m fucking proud of you. You deserve to be there rather than stuck backstage while I’m off living my life. Think of all that will come from this, all the opportunities that will be thrown at you. You should be excited, ‘cause I know I am.”

“I’m excited,” you promised, bringing your hand up to chew on your fingernail. “I’m just lonely and missing you. I’ll be fine.”

“You just need to find something to do,” he suggested. “Your classes start in a few days, right? Go sightseeing or meet up with your classmates. Oh, I know, go see that big fucking clock.”

You laugh loudly, and you knew he was probably smiling right now at his successful attempt to cheer you up. “The Big Ben?”

“Whatever its name is,” 

You laugh again and drop your hand. “Ani, that’s like a two and a half hour drive from me,”

“Take one of those fancy trains,” 

“You’re too much,”

“You love me,” 

“I do,” you agree. “I love you a lot.”

He laughed and the sweet sound had you smiling. “I love you a lot more,”

-

Another location officially crossed off the list. 

Anakin was a sweaty mess as he handed his guitar off to one of the stage guys before making his way to the exit. Before he could make it very far he felt a hand wrap around his forearm and pull him off to the side to where the speakers were. “Hey!” Liz beamed, grinning up at him and holding her camera close to her chest. “You were amazing!” 

This was the second night in a row that she had stopped him from leaving to congratulate him, and the second time he was instantly reminded of you. 

Liz’s skin was slightly sweaty but it was nothing compared to his own, and Anakin smiled at her as he put a few feet of distance between them. “Thanks,” he said. “You got some nice shots?”

“Of course I did,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “All my shots of you are nice.”

Anakin’s smile faded a bit as he took a hand towel from one of the stage guys and wiped away the sweat from the back of his neck. There was that weird feeling again. Was she being flirty or just trying to hype up someone she considered a client? “Is that right?” He asked, watching as she nodded and bit down on her lip. His eyes instinctively flickered to her mouth and he straightened up once he caught himself. “Well, I can’t wait to see them.” 

When he turned to leave again, her hand reached out and grasped his bicep, her palm fully covering your initial as she moved to stand in front of him again. “I can show you some now, if you want?” She offered, making him hold back a cringe as he tried to think of a way to nicely reject her. 

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and his face relaxes slightly when he reads your text.

Princess: I miss you already. Can we facetime after your show?

His heart skipped a beat at the fact that, despite you not even being here, you were able to save him from this interaction. “I can’t,” he said and looked up at her. “I’m gonna call Y/n as soon as I get back to the bus.”

Her face fell a bit as she backed away. “Oh, right,” she mumbled. “You and your girlfriend are so cute. How long have you two been together?”

“Five years in a few weeks,” he answered, fighting off a dumb grin as he thought about his milestone with you. 

“Wow,” she lifted both brows as she gave him a forced grin. “You were just kids when you met then.”

Anakin furrowed his brows as he pocketed his phone again. “I guess,” 

He hadn’t really given it much thought. Yeah, you two met when you were super young, and you still are young now and have lasted longer than most couples in their thirties, so he wasn’t really seeing the point she was trying to get at. 

“Anyway, I don’t want to keep her waiting,” he trailed off, watching as she nodded. 

“Oh, sure,”’ she shrugged. “Have a good night, Anakin.”

“You too,” he replied, already walking away and towards the parking lot door. 

He was barely inside the bus before he was calling you, his tired eyes staring back at him as he waited for you to pick up. “Ani,” you nearly gasped when you did answer, your big smile making his own form.

“Baby,” he murmured, walking past the couch and heading straight towards his bunk. “You look so pretty.”

You look down at yourself and laugh before shaking your head. “I’m wearing pajamas, Anakin,”

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he pointed out. “You look so fucking hot.”

You blush a bit and he wants nothing more than to be with you right now. He wants to see that pretty blush of yours in person. “Don’t say that to me,” you begged, scrunching your brow cutely. “I refuse to be turned on when you’re not here.”

Anakin smirks as he passes his bunk and enters the bathroom. “Have you had to touch yourself yet?” He shamelessly asked as he locked the door and leaned against the sink. 

“Anakin,” you blush even more as you sit up against your headboard. “I have a roommate.”

“Is she there with you right now?” 

“No,”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asked as he used one hand to strip himself of his shirt. “Come on, princess, imagine how good I’d be making you feel if I was there right now.”

He watches as you bite down harshly on your bottom lip. “Ani,”

“Imagine how good my fingers make you feel,” he continued, watching the way your eyes filled with lust. 

“Anakin,” you warned. “I swear.”

He smirked a bit, dropping his shirt to the floor. “I miss you, baby,” he murmured, his eyes following the curve of your jaw as you turned to hide your face in your pillow. “It’s not the same without you here.”

You whined a bit as you lifted your head. “London is fucking boring without you. Imagine all the fun we’d be having right now,”

“I’m sure we’d be having a lot of fun,” came his dirty remark and you quickly broke eye contact again. “Quit looking away, baby, I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I can’t look at you when you say those things to me,” you confessed, turning back to face him with a blush covering your cheeks. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Tell me about your day,” he says as he unzips his jeans with his free hand. 

You light up at that. “I ended up texting that guy I told you about, Evan? We did the campus tour together and got drinks from this really cute coffee shop that’s right next to my dorm. You’d love it, Ani, they had so many flavors,” 

Anakin smiled at that, happy you had already made a friend and found a place to go to in between classes. “That’s awesome,” he said. “I wish I was there with you. Maybe we’ll go to London together one day and you can show me the shop.”

“Yes,” came your immediate response. “Absolutely, let’s do that.” 

He shook his head as he rids himself of his jeans. You’re cute,”

“I know,” you beam. “How was the show? I’m so sad I missed it.”

Anakin kicked his clothing into a pile in the corner of the small room. “It was good. Liz said she got some good shots of us that she’ll send later. You wanna see them too?”

“Always,” you scoff then smile. “How is everyone? How’s Theo?”

“Everyone’s doing well,” he answered. “Theo is…honestly doing a really bad job at hiding how nervous he is about his mom. Vin and I told him that we’re here if he needs anything, but he always just brushes us off. He’s distant whenever we’re not on stage together.” 

Your brows furrow a bit as you slouch back against your headboard. “His mom is sick, Ani…and he’s not with her. Yeah, his sister is, but he’s the oldest and has been with her the longest. I can’t imagine what he’s going through,” 

“Yeah, but I just wish he would talk to me, you know? I’ve known him since I was sixteen. It feels like he’s slipping away from us,” he vented as he propped his phone up on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. 

“Maybe being on stage is his escape,” you offer. “He’s going through a lot right now, Ani. Give him time, he’ll come around.” 

Anakin tore his eyes away from the mirror and looked back at you. You were always so kind and rational and always thought about everyone else’s feelings before you spoke. You really are too sweet for your own good. “What would I do without you?” He honestly asked and you smiled at him.

“You’d probably be as miserable as I would be without you,” 

And he knew you were right.

-

“Hey, Anakin!” Liz greeted and pulled him into a hug, surprising him with the sudden display of affection. He stumbled back a bit, nearly bumping into one of the stage crew members as he did so.

“Hey,” he said back, returning the hug briefly before placing his hands on her hips and gently pushing her away from him. 

She kept her hands on his shoulders as she asked, “Did you get the photos from last night? I didn’t even need to edit these ones, they came out perfect,”

They really did look great. And you made sure to let him know just how good he looked in your message back to him when he forwarded the email to you before he went to bed last night. 

“Yeah, they look awesome,” he said as he stepped away from her. “Though I’m sure that has more to do with the camera and the person behind it.”

Liz rolled her eyes as she pulled out her phone. “When will you learn how to take a compliment?” Then she lifted her phone and pointed it right at him, and he had no time at all to realize what she was doing before he heard the sound of a picture being taken. She clicked on the image and showed it to him, “See? You can’t take a bad photo, even when you don’t realize one is being taken.”

Anakin laughed and shook his head a bit. “Okay, point taken, you can delete that now,”

But she just turned off her phone and pocketed it without deleting the photo. “We should do something together soon,” she suggested and he was about to gently turn her down when she added, “You, me, Vinny and Theo. I want to get to know my clients. Maybe we’ll work together more in the future, you know, after the tour.”

That wouldn’t be a bad idea, right? It might be nice to have a friendship with someone who knows how to work a camera, and Liz really did. Her work was amazing and she never failed to make Anakin feel as desired as he supposedly was by millions of people. 

“Yeah, for sure,” he agreed, then thought about another way she could take photos for him. “Maybe Y/n and I will hire you for our wedding.” It was a joke, the photographer part, definitely not the wedding part. He knew he will be marrying you someday, and he honestly couldn’t fucking for the day you become his wife, but there is also lots of time for that later, when you are both ready. 

The joke definitely went over her head. “Oh, you two are engaged?” 

He fucking wished. 

“No, we’re not,” he said, somewhat disappointedly. Just because you were waiting to get married doesn’t mean you were waiting to be engaged. Anakin also knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold off on asking you that question for much longer. “Not yet, anyway.”

She gave him a smile that looked a little forced. “You two are serious then, huh?”

He furrowed his brows as he leaned against the speaker backstage. This was always your spot, and he was missing you a little extra right now. God, he had no idea how he was supposed to make it another two weeks without you, then two months without you after that. 

“Yeah,” he trailed off. He thought she would’ve known by now how serious you and he are. Sure, you were basically kids when you met, but he knew from that first day that you were the only girl for him, and that fact was still true to this day. “Four years in, you get to be pretty serious.”

She nodded and moved closer to him, her natural flirty personality coming out in full swing as she smirked up at him. “That’s too bad,” she hummed, running a red painted nail up his sleeve of tattoos. “I’d say I’m happy for you, but then I’d be lying. You seem like a great guy, Anakin. It’s too bad you were taken off the market when you were so young.” 

He had no idea how to respond to that. She was definitely flirting with him, but he didn’t see the harm in it as long as he didn’t flirt back, and he had no intention in doing that anyway. Physically he was here, but his heart and mind were back in London with you. 

You were probably pacing around your dorm room right, nervous and scared about starting the program tomorrow. He hadn’t spoken to you since last night, where he ranted about how much he missed you, then listened to the way you talked dirty to him until he had no choice but to get himself off while he was still on FaceTime with you.

You told him that you would’ve helped him clean up the mess he made if you were there with him, and he had to wrap the call up pretty quickly after that as he could feel himself getting hard again and didn’t want the guys to get annoyed with him for being in the bathroom for too long. 

While his hand didn’t feel even close to how you did, he’d definitely be calling you again after tonight’s show. 

“Thanks, Liz, but I was a massive band geek back then and Y/n was this perfect, straight A student who I had no business asking out, let alone talking to,” he reminisced back to his high school days with you. 

“But you did,” she sounded almost bored, but he wasn’t really paying much attention to her tone at this point. He never focused on much else when the topic of the conversation was you. 

“Yeah, I did,” he confirmed, looking down at her with a dumb, love-struck grin. “Best decision of my life.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped away from him. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I was convinced there were no more good guys left in the world, and now here you are, so in love with your high school sweetheart it’s almost disgusting,” 

He laughed and crossed his arms. “You’re not the first person to call me and my relationship that,” 

Liz sighed as she gazed up at him. “I can only hope that I find a guy as nice as you soon,” she mumbled. “I mean, I’m twenty seven, I should be married by now. I’m so far behind.”

Anakin felt bad for her, and he supposed that was what she was trying to do after bringing up the topic of relationships. “You’ll find someone,” he assured her. “And you’re not behind. You’re a successful photographer, you’re nice, you’re pretty…anyone would be lucky to have you.”

She looked up at him with slightly darker eyes and he stood up a bit straighter, afraid he went too far with that one. “You think I’m pretty?”

He definitely went too far with that one, but he also didn’t want to ruin her newfound confidence. “Yeah,” he answered with a nod, wanting to either escape this conversation or change the subject entirely. “I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you that.”

Liz shook her head and bit down on her lip. “No, but you’re the first person I believe,” 

She reached out to him and only got to trace the newer ink on his wrist before he was pulling away. “Really?” He laughed and backed away. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anyway, I should help set up for tonight. Apparently all the tickets were sold for this venue, so it’ll be packed. You think you can keep up with everyone?”

Liz smirked as she nodded, “I think I can manage,”

[gravehags]

whatever she wants (whatever you want)

Pairing: Cumulus x f!Reader (x Cirrus, kind of)

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: ghoulette in heat, vibrating dildo, dewdrop is a little shit, cirrus likes to watch, squirting

Words: 2,581

Summary: You really wish there was a manual for this kind of thing.

a/n: wow it only took me 2 months to write something new lol my bad

Tagging: @anamelessfool !

divider by @ghuleh-recs

You are dreaming.

Below you shimmers an expanse of clear blue water as the wind blows through your hair. Your hands thread through the long white mane of the winged horse you are currently sitting astride as you glide through the air. When your steed dips down, allowing her wing to skim along the water’s surface, you feel the cool flecks of water upon your cheeks.

You are completely oblivious to the storm that roils in bed beside you. That is, until, a soft and trembling hand finds its way to your thigh. Slowly, you are pulled from your dream, feeling the warm and wet touch of lips to your shoulder.

“Mmm…hey love,” you murmur, voice rusty. The ghoulette behind you, your brand new girlfriend, whimpers and squeezes your leg. The two of you had only just started to sleep in the same bed after deciding to take your relationship slow and you are slightly stunned at this new wakeup technique.

“Fuck, baby,” Cumulus whines in your ear before swiping her tongue along the length of your neck. It knocks the breath from your lungs and you remain paralyzed on your side, waiting for her next move. Her tail moves beneath the duvet to curl around your thigh, replacing her hand, the spade sliding along the soft inner skin. 

“Cumul–” your words are cut off from the way her hand slips under your sleep shirt, fingertips brushing at the underside of your breast. “Cumulus, what are you doing?”

“Need you,” she breathes and your thighs clench together as she thumbs at your nipple. “Need to be filled up. I-I tried taking care of it while you were asleep. Got off three times and everything but,” briefly she takes your earlobe in between her teeth before relinquishing it, “I need more.”

Oh. You had heard about the ghouls having these cycles and Cumulus briefly mentioned it - what she called her heat - in passing. But Satanas, what were you supposed to do? The two of you had barely made it to second base before this. How were you going to give your love what she needed?

Cirrus.

“Lus,” you say, carefully turning to face her. What you see takes your breath away - her pupils are blown, face flushed, and lips bleeding. You briefly entertain the image of her biting at her bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet as she fucked herself with her own fingers in bed next to you. Now you’re the one blushing and when your tongue runs along your own bottom lip as if to taste what was on hers, Cumulus’ eyes widen and a soft whine leaves her. Fucking hell, you think. Yeah, the two of you wanted to be romantic and take this whole thing slow but you’ve never wanted her more than in this moment.

Focus.

“Lus,” you start again, voice more firm. “I’m going to get Cirrus to help.”

She nods, although you’re not sure if she’s even realizing what you’re saying. Gently, and trying not to touch her and incite anything, you pry yourself from her grip and slide out of bed. Being able to fully see your form - the tattered and soft Ghost shirt you wore to bed last night and the underwear beneath it - causes Cumulus’ breathing to become heavier and you can see her hips flexing forwards underneath the covers.

“Don’t go,” she cries out, looking desperate, “please I need you.”

Your heart clenches.

“I know, love. But I can’t do this on my own okay? I promise I’ll be right back.”

You can’t look at her as you walk to the door and exit her quarters. When you shut the door behind you, you take a heaving breath.

“Oh ho ho, someone’s in for a wild ride,”

To your left, Dewdrop saunters down the hall in his pajama pants carrying a mug of coffee, smirk twisting his face.

“Wha-”

“You stink of her. Thought you two were being all cutesy and Victorian and not seeing each other naked until the wedding night.”

“Ha ha,” you growl, running your hand over your face. “Listen, which room is Cirrus’?”

His eyebrows rocket upwards as he takes a sip of his drink.

“One ghoulette not enough for you?”

“No,” you say emphatically, “I need…help.”

Dew tips his head back and laughs, a couple strands of blonde hair escaping from his bun.

“Oh man you’re really in for it. Down the hall and around the corner, first door on the left. I’ll keep you in my thoughts,” he says, winking as he passes. “Nice bloomers,” he throws over his shoulder before disappearing.

Shithead.

Tugging the hem of your shirt down over your ass, you skitter over to the necessary door and take a deep breath before knocking. Please, please, please, you plead, hands wringing, please open the door.

Satanas, it appears, does answer prayers.

When Cirrus opens the door you choke on your own spit inelegantly. She’s wearing a pair of silky black sleep shorts and a lacy bralette that hides…well…nothing. 

“Hey doll,” her voice is low and she reaches up to throw her dark hair over her shoulder and stifle a yawn. “You’re up early.”

“Cumulus is in heat,” you blurt out.

“Oh?” Cirrus’ lips curl into the same grin Dewdrop had but when she sees the clear panic on your face the smile drops. “Oh.”

“She’s…I don’t know what to do. She wants me to…is she in pain?”

Silently, Cirrus ushers you backwards and exits her room, shutting the door behind her. She’s already striding down the hall on long legs and you trail behind her nervously. When she opens the door to Cumulus’ room she nearly doubles over and takes a heaving deep breath.

“Goddamn yeah that’s a heat,” Cirrus exhales, shaking her head. “Lulu? Honey?”

Cumulus makes a sad little noise from the bed and your heart clenches. How the fuck were you going to help her?

“Here,” she peeps. She’s no longer under the covers and no longer wearing anything. Your hand jerks at your side as if you should cover your gaze and when Cirrus sees you flinch, she smiles.

“You two haven’t fucked yet have you?”

Cumulus keens and writhes on the bed, causing your jaw to fall open.

“No. We were…we were taking it slow. But I want to help her. I need to help her, I can’t leave her like this.”

“Good girl,” Cirrus purrs, and you gasp at the gush of wetness that comes out of you. Cirrus’ eyes dart to the juncture of your thighs and she grins. Walking further into the room, she goes over to Cumulus’ nightstand and opens it, rifling through the contents of the drawer. She makes a triumphant noise and slaps a large, a very large dildo with an interesting bulbous hook on the end onto the bed.

“Now where the fuck did she put the remote,” you hear her growl under her breath as she continues to sift through what you now know is Cumulus’ toy drawer. Cumulus groans, and immediately you’re by her side, hand gently on her calf. You knew she was beautiful, fuck, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen but like this she’s…radiant. Her curves undulate with her movements, breasts bouncing. Between her legs, her white curls are sopping wet as she drips onto the duvet. Your mouth goes dry and suddenly you really wish Cirrus would hurry the fuck up.

“Got it,” Cirrus says a few seconds later and you let out an exhale of relief. “Alright you. Strip.”

Dumbly, you point your finger to your chest and she gives you a look.

“Yes you.”

The eyes of both ghoulettes are on you as you tentatively slip your shirt up and over your head, flinging it to the floor. When you slide your underwear down both Cumulus and Cirrus inhale sharply, with the latter closing her eyes as if to regain her composure.

“Baby you’re beautiful,” Cumulus sighs, fingers cupping her breast and teasing the nipple, hips working in little circles. “So beautiful.”

You blush and look at your feet. This isn’t how you wanted this to go, you wanted to give Cumulus the romance she deserved but. Well. Here you are.

“Sit on the bed for me?” Cirrus says, jerking you back into the present. “And spread your legs.”

You hop on the end of the bed and with some hesitation spread your legs. Cirrus has the toy in her hand and smiles, causing your clit to throb.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, a single clawed finger tracing down your belly and through the curls between your legs. “She’s nice and wet for you Lulu.”

Cumulus lets out something between a giggle and a shriek.

“That’s…that’s my girl,” she breathes, and you don’t have to be looking at her to know she’s beaming. Cirrus, in the meantime, is idly applying lube to the bulbous end of the dildo as she stares between your legs. Finally she reaches down, spreading you apart and taking the rounded end, and presses it against your cunt. You jump at her touch and your jaw hangs as she slowly pushes your end of the dildo in. The thick intrusion has drool pooling in the corners of your mouth.

“Pretty little pussy, too,” Cirrus says with a grin. “Maybe you’ll be nice and share her afterwards.”

“Mmm…yes,” Cumulus practically sings, “would you like that, baby?”

You barely have time to let out an affirmative moan before Cirrus pulls you up and arranges you on your knees in between your lover’s legs. When Cumulus sees the thick length jutting out from you she lets out a euphoric laugh. She looks so…so…divine. So fucking gorgeous. Breaking from Cirrus’ grip you push forwards to slot your lips against Cumulus’. Her hands are in your hair instantly as you lick into her, one hand cupping her inflamed cheek. You don’t even notice as Cirrus settles into a chair in the corner, watching the two of you with narrowed, intrigued eyes. Cumulus pulls you from her lips for a moment and you take the opportunity to latch onto her neck, littering her decolletage with purple bruises. The dildo is stretching you wonderfully as your lips trail down to her breasts.

“Mmm fuck honey, you gonna suck my tits?”

You’ve never heard Cumulus be so vulgar before and you clench around the toy inside you. Rather than answer, you swipe your tongue over her nipple and suckle at the bud while her claws scratch at your scalp. She whines when you pull off one but when you latch onto the other breast, teeth grazing her nipple she’s purring again. Your hips jerk upwards, the tip of the dildo brushing at her entrance and she cries out.

“Need you, need you, need you,” she chants, pulling your face back up to her until your mouths are a breath away. “Need you inside me, fuck, wanna watch you cum.”

“This isn’t about me,” you breathe with a smile, kissing her gently.

“No,” Cirrus says from her corner, causing you to jump. You had forgotten she was even in the room. “It’s not, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to forget about you.”

In her right hand she holds something up.

The remote.

With a flick of her thumb you choke out a whine. The end of the dildo inside of you begins vibrating steadily, reverberating against your clit and suddenly you’re filled with the need to fuck your girlfriend now. Shaking, you pull back onto your knees and spread Cumulus apart, making her keen beneath you, murmuring something over and over you can’t hear. She’s so fucking wet and you can’t bring yourself to tease her any longer. Slowly you fill her, the tension in her body slipping away as you bury yourself to the hilt inside her. You pause with a heavy exhale, hunched over her and hair hanging in your face when the vibrations inside you increase.

“Go on, pretty girl,” Cirrus commands from her throne, “fuck her.”

You nod vigorously, not needing to be told twice as you pull out and slam back into her. Cumulus’ hands are on you, fingers clawing at your hips as you rut into her dripping cunt, driving yourself deeper and deeper every time. Suddenly inspired, you sit back and pick Cumulus’ legs up to place them heavy on your shoulders. Cirrus actually lets out a laugh and claps as you pump into the ghoulette beneath you. To award you for your initiative, Cirrus ratchets up the vibrations to the highest they’ll go and you’re panting as you grip your lover’s ankles. When Cumulus’ moans become pitchy, you know you’ve hit the right spot and a smile cracks your face even as sweat drips down your temples. 

“Gonna make you cum,” you say, looking at Cumulus with a cocky grin, “gonna make you fucking soak the sheets.”

Cirrus is saying something to you, something lewd you think, but when the vibrations hit your swollen clit just right you cum with a shout, hips continuing to jerk violently. When Cumulus cums her scream is exaltant, meeting you thrust for thrust as she drenches the bedcovers. You don’t even notice the vibrations have stopped as you continue to push into her until firm hands on your shoulders still you. With something between a sigh and a sob, you pull out and lean back into Cirrus’ embrace, eyes sliding shut.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, pushing your sweaty hair aside to place a kiss on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “You did so well. Look at her. You both look so beautiful.”

Cumulus is beneath you, looking up at you as if you hung the moon. Weakly, she reaches up to beckon you to her, a beatific expression on her face. Angelic, you would say if you didn’t know any better. Gently, Cirrus reaches around you and eases the dildo out of you before guiding you backwards and off the bed.

“Come on, pet,” Cirrus brings you to the side of the bed and pulls the covers back. Cumulus shifts over and finagles herself under the sheets, welcoming you into her embrace. Her temperature is back to being blissfully cool and she pulls you in.

“How do you feel?” you ask, still slightly out of breath, fingers toying with one of her white curls.

“Better. For now. Thank you, my love.”

Cirrus watches the two of you silently before lightly clearing her throat.

“Rest well, lovebirds,” she says with a smile, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, then Cumulus before whispering in your ear, “You’re a keeper.”

“Thanks, coach,” you grin sleepily and she briefly scratches at your scalp with fondness.

She slips out the door and the two of you are left to catch your breath. When you sigh contentedly, your girlfriend turns to you.

“You didn’t hear what I said earlier, did you?”

You frown slightly and open your eyes.

“No I…I don’t think so. I was kind of caught up in the uh…moment.”

She giggles and reaches a hand up to trace your features.

“I’ll repeat myself then. I love you.”

She loves you. She loves you.

“You what?” you say stupidly, and she snorts and places her thumb firm on your bottom lip.

“You heard me. Now be a lamb and say it back.”

You don’t need to be told twice. When you dream of the water again, she is with you.

[twstinginthewind]

"I usually stick to jazz piano, but I think I can handle playing synesthesia instead!"

Octavinelle's favorite musical himbo has rolled onstage for NRC Music Fest, almost as if by accident. Sometimes being in the wrong place at the right time can be pretty rewarding, after all!

"Go get changed, Ibsen-sempai," groaned Azul, shaking his head. He waved a gloved hand in the direction of his tall upperclassman. "I can't have you representing the Mostro Lounge looking like that."

That was, as Lorne would miserably and uncharacteristically accurately put it, completely coated in the sauce. The caramel sauce that the Mostro employees were using to top off the coffee drinks they were selling at the music festival, specifically. And his dorm uniform was sticky, sweet, and drenched with the stuff. "Understood, housewarden. I'll be back ay-sappy." He gave Azul a pathetic, thankful look, murmured his apologies, and went on his way, leaving little puddles of caramel behind him.

(Vignette continues below the cut! Along with the song he's playing!)

He ducked into a dressing room inside the stadium, not far from where they were set up. Fortunately, there was no one there, and even more fortunate for him, there was a shower in the room. Desperate to deglaze himself, Lorne stepped into the little stall fully-clothed and began to rinse the caramel sauce off of his clothes. It didn't take very long, but he knew that Azul would be upset if he returned sopping wet, too. He wasn't about to test the octopus's patience. But what to change into....?

Wrapped in a towel, he began to look around the room. There wasn't much to choose from, he thought. A rack of costumes left behind by the film studies club were all smaller than what he could wear, and he wasn't about to swipe anyone else's school uniform. But then, he spotted it. The Janitor's closet. He stepped inside, and came back out wearing one of the additional jumpsuits that always seemed to populate these supply areas. A quick materials spell to have the colors complement his dorm outfit, and it was ready to go.

And then the dressing room door slammed open, letting in a few panicking underclassmen that Lorne had never met. "Jimothy's sick?" whined one, flinging himself onto one of the chairs.

"Yup," groaned another, clutching his guitar case like a life raft. "And we go on in twenty minutes. How are we supposed to do this without our keyboard player?"

".... uh, guys? The room's occupied," said the third, wide-eyed and quiet.

Lorne smiled weakly. "Uh, hi. I'm not here to... um. I just needed the shower, and..."

The guitarist looked at him, recognition slowly dawning in his eyes. "Rog, Biff, I think we have a solution. This is that guy who plays piano at Mostro, remember?"

"Kinda." The whiner looked at Lorne skeptically. "So what, Freddy?"

"Yeah, I don't follow, either," Lorne admitted.

Freddy put his guitar case down, and put an overly familiar hand onto Lorne's shoulder. "You can improvise, right, buddy? We need someone on synthesizer, like, immediately, and you're technically trespassing right now, AND, in stolen threads, to boot."

Lorne looked down at the borrowed jumpsuit and rubber boots and swallowed hard. He wished Jade were there, he could be clever and talk him out of this. Or Floyd, who would send these guys flying. But alone, he crumpled like a house of cards, despite that metaphor's appropriation from a different dormitory. Maybe collapsing like a deflated pufferfish? Disappearing like seafoam? He shook his head. "I'm sorry. What are you asking?"

"Will you play with our act, please?" asked the quiet kid, less menacingly than Freddy. "You can even use Jimothy's keyboard. We're kinda desperate."

Lorne blinked. "Oh, you want me to play music? I can do that, easy." He took a look at the offered keytar and slipped the strap over his shoulders. "I usually stick to jazz piano, but I think I can handle playing synesthesia instead!"

"Bro, what?"

"Dude, he said yes. Don't jinx it."

"So!" Lorne tapped out a few chords, suddenly much more cheerful. "What songs are we doing?"

[cupidk1ss]

“You’ve got color in your cheeks”

The music lowers as you push your way through the bodies mingling in the living room. Careful not to spill the clear liquid in the plastic cup.

The cool night air hits your exposed skin as you find an empty balcony to settle on.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket the screen lights up and a small frown pulls at your lips at the lack of messages.

“Do I wanna know?”

Sighing you lift your head and look at the stars above taking a sip of your drink. Tonight was supposed to get him off your mind but clearly that’s failing.

It’s so stupid,feeling this worked up over a guy.

“If this feeling goes both ways”

A soft ding sounds out from your phone and you pull it up to your face checking the notification. Only to find it’s a random notification from some game.

Disappointment settles in your throat

Against your better judgment you open your phone and click the green message icon.

Scrolling thought text conversations you stop when you see his name and open the text thread.

The small gray word “Read” staring back at you, taunting you like some sick joke.

“Sad to see you go”

Your finger scrolls further up the text thread. Eyes scanning the previous conversations, picking apart every word, punctuation and emoji. Trying to understand where you went wrong.

What could you have said different to make him respond, to make him stay.

“Sorta hoping that you’d stay”

It’s been months since he last texted you. You never thought you’d be this attached.

You know you’re not the ideal girl. Timid. Awkward and inexperienced, but he didn’t seem to mind. He carried the conversations while you tired to reciprocate.

He said he didn’t care.

He told you how sweet you were.

How down to earth you were.

It’s so stupid.

“Crawling back to you”

Suddenly the phone dings and your pulled back to the present. You blink staring down at the device.

Another notification.

This time it’s a message from a dating app. Scoffing you swipe it away. You’re not in the mood to deny some guy inviting you to his hotel room.

“I’m too busy being yours”

You should’ve deleted the app a long time ago, but you know what they say. To get over someone, get under someone else.

It’s clearly not working, you’ve never been one for random hook ups and he wasn’t some random hook up anyway.

You actually felt a connection with him.

It’s hard on dating apps. Swiping left and right. Trying to find someone who gives the same feeling he did.

Who makes you giggle like a school girl, who gets you without having to give a step by step explanation

“To fall for somebody new”

You stare down at the text thread. Finger hovering over the text box.

You want to reach out. Rebuild the bridge he keeps burning, but you know you shouldn’t.

It’s a cycle that won’t stop unless you make it, but you can’t bring yourself to stop it.

Against your better judgment your finger lowers and hits the box. The keyboard popping up. You type out a simple “hey :)” and press send

You look at the remaining liquid in your plastic cup. Bringing up to your lips and finishing it.

Push comes from to shove you blame the alcohol.

No one needs to know you’ve never touched a drop of alcohol in your life.

“Crawling back to you”

[en-geneisaxx]

Back with another song lol. Dw, this time, it's a happy love song (compared to heartbroken lovers lmao)

Like, reblogs and/or following me will be much appreciated!! ♥️

Dear lover,

By Isa.

I stare at the phone screen day and night;

Swiping left, swiping right,

Thinking, 'Is there a love for me...?'

I am lost in this love maze,

The thoughts in my mind are having a race,

I drift off to sleep, where I have a man for my own.

Then, fate hired

A another ball of red thread that connected you to me,

It was only a matter of time before we could finally meet.

Then, I lie there,

On my bed,

Floating in my dreams

And you suddenly appearing there so casually

Got me wondering, 'What is this supposed to mean?'

But I accept it,

Because the more I see us

Got my heart beating faster than it already was.

Oh, you may be a stranger in my conscious head

But my inner self is saying, 'Girl, he's the one you gotta get.'

Finally,

Early afternoon,

I saw you there,

Looking like a bride gaping at her groom,

Because, honestly, you looked too good

When I say, 'Girl dinner', he ticks all the rules

Boy, what am I gonna do?

It's amazing, I can't believe this is true,

After many months, with so much bonding time made with you,

You're on one knee, eyes gleaming with sparkles that captivates

Asking, 'Baby, will you take my hand as we continue life

Professing our love forever, Guinness might be suprised,'

Oh, and it's a dream come true, as he says:

"Dear lover, I don't care if you're from the suburbs,

You make my stomach do turns,

In my eyes, you're the only one who shines.

Don't matter how you look,

You're always my 'beautiful' that I took as

Mine, mine, mine, I claimed it all for me."

A couple years later,

With a ring on my finger,

We made a whole family.

Lying on our bed,

My chest on your head,

Your fingers interlocked with the chubby little ones of mine,

I start our precious late night talk, '𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓...'

A/n: It's literally almost 1am so forgive me if it's bad 😭🙏

© en-geneisaxx 2024. All rights reserved.

[sorinethemastermind]

Fluffcember 2024: Snowed In | Rayllum & Sorvus & Clauderry Callum is determined to ask Rayla to be his girlfriend this Winter Break. But if he can't even start a fire, how is he supposed to create the perfect moment? Soren has decided to stay on campus this Christmas, but with Rayla and Callum as his only company, he's starting to feel like a third wheel. Except maybe it's not just the three of them left on campus after all. Meanwhile Claudia is trying to have a nice Christmas with her family, but maybe her family isn't at home...

 Usually Terry would have loved to be snowed in with his girlfriend. He still loved to be snowed in with his girlfriend. His girlfriend’s family… not quite so much. 

 But what was a bad situation but a chance to make things better? Nowhere to go but up! That’s what he told himself, anyway, when Claudia suggested they all gather in the living room after dinner for a board game night.

 Viren had said he was busy and Lissa had muttered that he was always conveniently busy when it was time to spend time with his family, after which Viren had cheerily decided that he did, in fact, have time to play boardgames with them. In fact, he was going to take the rest of the day off from work to do just that.

 Claudia had beamed at them both and jumped up, clapping her hands together as she rushed around to gather various games from across the house and compile them in the living room.

 Now it was time. Dinner had been eaten (silently, except for Claudia) and the two girls were gathering some snacks from the kitchen before they began. Terry glanced out of the corner of his eye at Viren. He was scowling at his phone, swiping through messages as though each had personally wronged him. Terry did not want to be whoever he was texting. 

 He considered waiting for the man’s mood to brighten, but it rarely did. Here goes nothing, Terry thought. Or everything.

 “Ahem. Uh, Sir, uhm, Claudia’s dad?”

 Viren took a moment to finish what he’d been typing, exit out of the text thread, and turn off his phone before turning to face him. “Yes?”

 Terry shot a quick glance towards the kitchen, making sure that the others were still distracted. “I wanted to talk to you about Claudia.”

 “Oh? And what about her?”

 Terry swallowed, and then it all came out in a single breath. “Spending the holidays with the both of you really matters a lot to her. It’s all she’s been talking about for months and months! And I won’t pretend to understand what happened between you and your ex-wife, and Claudia is strong and resilient, but I think that it would mean a lot to her if she could feel like you’re all a happy family, for just a little bit. Especially with her brother not being here.”

 Viren stared at him for a moment, forehead creasing into a scowl. “You’re right. You do not understand what happened between Lissa and I.” Then he sighed, the scowl fading. “But I will think about what you said.”

 “Thank you, Sir.”

 “I’m not some noble lord, Terry. Call me Viren.”

 “Yes, sorry. Viren.” Terry corrected himself, giving the man a smile.

 Viren glanced at him for a moment, then directed his gaze to the kitchen, where Terry could see Claudia spinning about as she pulled things down from the shelves before passing them to her mother.

 “You care about my daughter very much, don’t you?” Viren said, more a statement than a question. Terry answered it anyway.

 “How could I not? Just look at her.” he sighed, smile widening. “She’s perfect.”

 “I agree.”

 Terry glanced over at him, a little surprised. He thought it might have been the first nice thing he’d said since they’d arrived at the cabin.

 Viren let out a small chuckle upon spotting his expression. “Claudia is my daughter, I realized she was wonderful long before you did, Terry.” He let out a long sigh then, expression darkening. “I have always been willing to do anything for my family. I try to push them to be the best versions of themselves they can be. The strongest and greatest. But sometimes I can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, I’ve also pushed them away.”

 “You’re talking about Soren.”

 “Yes.”

 Terry wasn’t sure what to say to that, and they both fell silent for a moment. Finally, he asked; “What did you think was the strongest and greatest version of him?”

 “I’m not sure I know anymore.” Viren admitted. “I think maybe… it was too different from who he was. Who he is.” He sighed. “He reminds me a lot of his mother.”

 “And that is… hard for you?”

 “Sometimes.”

 “Have you ever told him that?”

 Viren scoffed. “Of course not.”

 “Maybe you should.”

 Whatever moment they’d been having ended abruptly as Viren got up, tone sharpening again. “You know less about these things than you act like you do.”

 “I’m sorry.” Terry said hurriedly, not entirely sure what had changed. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

 Slowly, Viren sank back down onto the couch. “I suppose you are a part of this family as well, now. Aren’t you, Terrestrius?”

 Terry gave him a nervous smile. “I think that’s up to you.”

 “It’s up to her.” Viren jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And she likes you. So I will trust my daughter’s judgement. If you make her happy, then I suppose you are here to stay.”

 Terry’s smile widened. “Well, thank you.”

 “Do not thank me. I had no choice in the matter.”

 “You had a little bit of a choice.” Terry offered.

 “Then don’t make me change my mind.” Viren said, picking up his phone again and returning to tapping at it.

 “Yes, Sir. I mean, uh, Viren.”

 The man rolled his eyes, smiling almost imperceptibly, but Terry caught it.

[lollytea]

Chanting POST THE DRAGON POST THE DRAGON POST THE DRAGON POST THE DRAGON!!!!!

So Willow is out on dragon patrol and it was supposed to be a pretty standard night. But she gets tangled up in some business that it's kinda way too much for her to handle and she has to fight a creature that no dragon in training should be fighting.

So Willow ends up gravely injured. Like. A gnarly slash torn across her abdomen. The creature doesn't bother to finish her off and just leaves her to bleed out right there on the forest floor.

Willow is angry. She's scared. She's in so much pain that she's hysterical. She's gonna die and she can barely think straight. But it hurts too much to pull herself up so she can only lay there. She's lost control of her dragon powers and can't even shift back into her human form. She's hyperventilating. She's gonna die. She doesn't want to die.

And then, there's a sheet of red light blinding her. Willow would know the obnoxious harshness of that light anywhere and she's already hissing and growling before she even sees him.

"Get away from me!" She snarls, using what remains of her energy to writhe and make threats, but she knows deep down its not gonna DO anything. "Get away!!"

"Calm down" He snaps, an almost desperate edge to his voice.

Willow doesn't.

The Golden Guard tries to get closer to her wound but the vicious swipe of her claws and the gnashing of her teeth won't allow for that. He hears him growl impatiently, sees the blur of motion out of the corner of her eye and suddenly there's a sharp spike of pain behind her ear. Willow's fury extinguishes from that touch and she is subdued to a soft whimper.

"Don't....move." He hisses in her ear. His hold on her ear is not nearly as painful as it could be, if he put a little more pressure on it. It's a threat. Move and she'll experience pain beyond her imagination. Nobody's ever severely hurt her there before but all her dragon instincts are screaming at her to co-operate.

Willow doesn't move.

"Thanks" He says in a way that sounds habitual. Willow does not believe he meant to say it. "You'll only bleed out faster if you keep squirming around. Now stay still until I say so."

"You want me to take orders from you?" Willow asks through her ragged breaths. "I'd rather you just hurry up and slay me."

"You're not dying tonight, Dragon."

Willow's brain skips over itself and she can't hide the blatant shock in her voice. "What?"

He's already knelt down by her wound and is rummaging in his belt pouch. He fishes out a small kit and pops the lid open. Thread that gleams silver being pushed through a nondescript needle that Willow suspects are also the magical kind.

Eda has some back at the shop. Thread that never snaps. Needles that can pierce through anything. Perfect for stitching up the thick, leathery skin of a dragon.

There is no other alternative explanation for what is currently happening. The Golden Guard is preparing to stitch her up.

"Why...?" She asks.

She feels the first incision of the needle.

"I did not make it this far just to slay my first dragon like THIS." He answers. "It"d be pathetic. I'd be pathetic."

"Nobody would know...." Willow finds herself saying. The pain might be getting to her head.

"I'd know."

A silence falls between them as the Guard continues his stitch work. "It's gonna scar."

"Aw, man...."

"Hey, it's a scar or death. Take it or leave it."

"Your bedside manner sucks."

He makes a noise. If she didn't know better it might have been a snort. Or maybe it was a scoff. Or maybe he just makes weird noises when he sews.

"This is humiliating...." She mutters.

"For you and me both..."

She opens her mouth. She wants to say that it doesn't have to be humiliating for him. Because there is no reason to be doing this.

He doesn't have to slay her. But he could have left her here. So long as Amity Blight is alive, there's a worthy trophy for him. It never had to be her.

"Magic thread or no magic thread," He says. "You're still gonna need proper treatment. Do you....have somewhere you can go....?"

Willow's mind swims with options. Home to Gilbert. Eda's place. Luz...or Gus...

"Yeah. My family."

There's a prolonged pause and she doesn't know why. But then he says "Okay. Go to your family."

The word family sounds strange on his tongue.

"Listen" He mutters and Willow can hear the venom leaking back into his tone. "I don't want to see you again until you've recovered. You aren't going to turn me into the laughing stock whose first kill was an incapacitated dragon."

"Should I say Thank You?"

"If you do I'll swallow all my pride and slice you through right now."

"Phew," She manages to joke in spite of her exhaustion. "Thank God you're not expecting anything. I was dreading giving you a little thanksies kiss."

He makes that noise again. "Shut up."

She can't describe the way his voice sounded then. Soft. Like there was a smile hidden away. But then again, she might still be delirious from the pain.

He doesn't say goodbye. One moment he was there and the next he wasn't.

And Willow has now has a new scar.

ANYWAY. Several weeks later. Or maybe it's months. Who cares. The point is Luz and Gus have been informed by Willow of just how much Hunter has been missing out on. So they've been determined to drag him places. It's the beach this time.

Hunter was not prepared for Willow Park in a swimsuit. Tho tbf he hasn't been prepared for Willow Park in anything but the world literally does not give a shit about what he's prepared for. And now she's hanging around in a bikini and it's got cute little flowers on it because Willow Park loves cute little flowers. And also...it is showing parts of her that he's never seen before. Her whole arms are on display holy shit!!!!

And there's a stomach too. And maybe, if she were anyone else, if he were anyone else, he wouldn't have paid much notice. But because he was Hunter and she was Willow, his eyes are all over her stomach.

It started off as just teen hormones but once he saw it, there was a non-hormonal explanation for his lingering eyes.

Something in him shifts.

The scar is jagged and peculiar looking. The stitch work was a hasty job.

There's no reason for his instincts to be ringing alarm bells right now. Its likely a surgery scar or something. Tons of people have scars on their belly

But Hunter has instincts, whether he likes them or not.

He doesn't like them by the way. Because a lot of the time they're wrong. They scream at him a lot about Belos and the Emperor's Clan and other things that are safe to him.

And also....he can't do it. He can't think about this. Because he can't bear to accept it. She's Willow Park. He can't....if she was then....he can't. No. They're surgery scars.

He makes his brain shut up and believe what it wants to believe. Like he does all the time.

But still, he can't stop staring at that scar. Even when he tries to ignore it....something inside of him is rioting.

Willow is standing in front of him and she's babbling away about something. But for once, Hunter isn't paying attention.

He doesn't know what possessed him to do it. But before he even realizes what's happening, his palm is settled over Willow's tummy scar, unwilling to accept the possibility of what it could be, but unable to not be inexplicably drawn to it.

A second passes. Then two.

Then the inner turmoil shatters as Hunter realizes what the FUCK he's doing.

It hits him like a truck. His hand. Her belly. His gaze travels upwards, afraid of what he'll see, and she finds her slackjawed expression, fluorescent pink splashed across her cheeks.

Hunter's whole face boils worse than any sunburn could give him.

And suddenly the focus of Willow's tummy revolves entirely around hormones again.

[haeseolar]

[thread fic] 02.

romance, introspection, kinnporsche: post ep 7, porsche spends the night for the first time in kinn’s room and what happens.

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They stumble into Kinn’s bedroom, laughing and swaying, clinging so tightly around each other that he’s unsure of where Porsche starts and he finishes. They just about managed to avoid all the bodyguards on duty on their way up, courtesy of Porsche’s knowledge of the rotations, but they’re finally here - alone, in each other’s arms, giddy with anticipation of the night to come.

Everything feels so gentle, everything from the way Porsche is cupping his jaw, stroking across his cheekbones like he’s cherishing him, savouring each press of lips and swipe of tongue they trade between them. The atmosphere in the air is completely opposite to what he felt in the minor family’s bathroom earlier - gone is the panic that claws at his throat, squeezing his heart in his chest until he can barely breathe, and gone is the worry that Porsche will walk away from him in the next second. He can’t - Kinn won’t let him, not now, not ever - and he pulls him in closer, winding his arms securely around Porsche’s waist, remembering how tiny it is beneath his palms.

Kinn’s fingers catch underneath the hem of Porsche’s shirt, a suggestion that he immediately gets, and he pulls back only enough so he can pull it off. A waft of stale alcohol infiltrates his senses then, his lips pulling downwards into a frown at the reminder of why it’s even there in the first place.

“You’re not getting in my bed reeking like that,” Kinn mumbles, placating Porsche with one, two, three rapid kisses.

Porsche laughs, swaying on his feet from what he can only imagine is what he’s feeling too - a mixture of happiness and exhaustion.

“You gonna take care of me in the shower then?” Porsche asks, waggling his eyebrows. 

Kinn scoffs, trying to hide his laugh but miserably failing, “If you can stay awake that long.”

That expression - the one that sets Kinn’s heart alight, the one that fuels the stirring behind his navel, the one that tugs at his heartstrings - appears on Porsche’s face, promising mischief and assurance that Kinn will soon be eating his words.

He supposes he should be less surprised when a hand cups over his crotch, squeezing his cock teasingly. It’s enough to make it stir once more, twitching under Porsche’s grip.

“I think you should be asking if you can get it up again,” Porsche’s eyes are shining, curved up into beautiful half-moon crescents that make his stomach somersault under his gaze. Even this feels gentler than he assumed it’d be, that as much as he wants to press Porsche up against the nearest flat surface, he also wants to look after him too. He wants to scrub him clean, wash the stench of the minor family off of him, remove every ache and pain that he caused him with his nasty words in the bathroom, and rewrite his wrongs and tell him that he’ll do his best from now on.

It pains him that he’ll never be able to promise Porsche that he’ll never hurt him again, but he wants to at least try.

“I don’t think that’ll be the problem, baby,” Kinn grins, sliding his palms down to grope over Porsche’s ass, digging his nails into the muscle there. There’s still so much left uncovered by his hands that he can’t fit in, and that just makes the little control he has left snap.

“Let me take care of you,” Kinn says, a question, a suggestion, and a promise all wrapped into one.

“Lead the way, boss,” Porsche jokes, his laughter echoing around Kinn’s previously cold and lonely bedroom, filling up all the crevices that he thought would remain empty and frozen in time from when he always believed he’d never move on from Tawan.

He will, though - he already has, how could he not have? How can he even consider his past when his present and future is right in front of him, dragging him by his hand to the shower where they’ll kiss until their lips are sore and bruised, where they’ll touch each other until they know the other’s body better than their own, where they’ll whisper sweet nothings into the humid steam of the hot water.

Kinn has so much he wants to say, the words right on the tip of his tongue as he lathers shampoo into Porsche’s hair and watches him tilt his head back in contentment, eyes closed and lips parted in a sigh as he carefully works his fingers through each strand, cleaning off the day’s grime and sweat.

Porsche’s eyes crack open a sliver then, the bliss clear even from only the tiny bit available to him, and in that moment Kinn feels like everything he wants to say has already been heard - every apology, every promise, and every love confession he has within him.