#tomorrow i will send out all the prompts still left in my inbox

[scorpioriesling]

Hii, hope you are having a good week! I saw your prompt list and that your requests are open👉👈🥹 I was wondering if I could request number 4.Make up sex with Tamlin x reader where they are mates??? I love himmm

Discussions in … Strategy

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Pairing(s): Tamlin x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, nsfw, p in v, oral, semi-public sex, slight angst

Summary: While in the Winter Court for a meeting with your mate, a simple discussion of strategy gets out of hand. After a heated argument, and words said out of anger -- your husband knows just how to make it up to you.

SR’s Note: This one has been in my inbox / WIPs for SO LONG, and I'm so excited to finally finish it and share it with all of you lovely people. (: This uses prompt #4 from my prompt masterlist -- please feel free to send me an ask/idea/request at any time! There are a few unused prompts from the list that I would still love to incorporate.

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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The wind was cold as it whipped against your face -- you hadn't enjoyed the Winter Court much for that. It was rarely warm in this court, no sun, no humidity... it almost made you miss the Summer Court.

Perhaps I'll just go back there, you thought.

Shaking your head, you let the angry feelings recede a bit. As you closed the open window and made to look in the mirror instead, you let out a long sigh.

Is the Spring Court High Lady supposed to look so... blue?

You reached for the jewelry you'd laid out for today's meeting; a pair of pearl earrings your mother had once given you, and a golden necklace with a heart-shaped pearl hanging from it.

That one was from your mate.

Your mate. Your husband. Your Tamlin. Your brows furrowed as the sinking feeling in your heart returned, one that made its debut the night prior. The night prior, when, being so stubborn as usual, you and your mate got into a tiff. More of an argument, really. It was the worst one you'd ever had.

You glance at yourself in the mirror again, frustration reddening your face as you try to clasp the jewelry around your neck. Usually, your husband would be there to help you out with that -- but, he had left early this morning, after a long night with not so much as a cuddle from you.

Maybe he was rethinking his original proclaimation to make you his High Lady...

Last night's argument was rough, sure. But the Tamlin you knew, one so changed after his falling out with Feyre, wouldn't think twice about you being his equal. You knew that -- but the feeling still lingered.

He was so upset last night, so worked up by the things you were saying. You'd never so much as heard him raise his voice before, let alone gripe at you so loudly during the disagreement. But, last night was different.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying, Y/N," he started.

"I don't need to! I already told you, the best course of action was to ally with Kallias, and-"

"Is that much not already clear? By the Cauldron, Y/N, we've travelled all this way to meet with him in his palace-"

"Exactly!" Your voice rose one octave, the knitting of your brows only making him frown.

"So why aren't we focusing more on our alliances with-"

"I swear to the Cauldron, Tamlin, you don't listen to a word I say." You huffed, tossing your worn gown into the closet and slamming the door. You pulled your sleeping top over your head, continuing on.

"We already have the Autumn Court on our side. The only other party here right now, for this meeting tomorrow, is the Night Court-"

"Right, the Night Court that we still need to forge an alliance with."

You glared at him hard.

"You really think Rhysand is going to hear a word either of us have to say? After all this time, how blinded are you-"

"For the record, I've been doing this a lot longer than you have, High Lady. I think I know what I'm doing." He glared back at you.

That's when your heart sunk, and a few beats of silence passed between you.

"That was low, even for you."

His face softened at your words, his eyes downcast as you slid into the cozy, winter-white sheets.

He let out a small, saddened sigh as he changed, and slid in behind you.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Don't." Even with your back turned, you could still hear every word he said, and sense he had reached out to embrace you.

You didn't care. Your feelings had been hurt -- and your heart felt as cold as the snow gathering on the windowsill.

Standing before the closet once more, you ruffled through the gowns you'd packed, not quite sure which one was best fit for the meeting. Originally, you thought the pale blue would be best, as you were in the Winter Court after all -- but, you were the High Lady of the Spring Court. You didn't want your potential allies for this upcoming battle to feel as though you were trying to be somebody that you weren't.

You bent at the waist, picking up the discarded gossimer from last night and hanging it straight on a hanger. That one was a rather expensive one, one your mate had bought you for your anniversary; you'd have to consult with Alis about the wrinkles.

Thumbing through the dresses once more, your eye caught on the moss green gown, one you hadn't worn often, but one that surely got other's attention. The last time you'd worn it, you took your honeymoon with Tamlin in the Dawn Court... oh, what a lovely trip that had been.

You tried to ignore the growing pulse between your legs at the memory.

Snatching it from the closet, you put it on, fixing your hair once before giving yourself a confident smile in the mirror.

You'd make things right today, you thought. Just after you got through this meeting.

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"My Gods Y/N -- you're ravishing as ever!"

Vivianne greets you with a warm embrace, and you chuckle as some of the fur on her long, white coat tickled your nose.

"It's good to see you again, Viv."

You pulled away, smiling politely before she pulled you close conspiratorally.

"Hey -- we really need girl's weekend again, don't you think?"

You smiled, the memory of the last weekend spent in the Summer Court a happy one.

"Oh, I most certainly agree. Tamlin's been..." you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe, but not insult your husband.

"...Tamlin?" She finishes, and the two of you chuckle. Your stomach drops a little as you see the familiar head of blonde hair waltzing over to the two of you, one that didn't particularly like you or your husband.

"Morrigan!" Vivianne cheered, embracing her long-time friend as she'd just done to you. "I missed you so much!"

Morrigan flashed her a beaming smile, her attention solely focused on her friend. Your cheeks heated in that moment. Of course they were closer than you and Vivianne were -- they'd both been doing this for a lot longer.

Maybe, you should've trusted your husband's judgement, instead of snapping at him like you did.

"Mor, I'm sure you've met-"

"Yes, I have. The, High Lady, of... the Spring Court." Her words are punctuated, but she extends a hand to you nonetheless. You take it, plastering the most confident smile on your face as possible. "Your name was...?"

"Y/N," you fill the silence, Vivianne's eyes switching between the two of you. "It's Y/N." She only nods, dropping your hand as she subtly glances at your necklace.

"Yes, Y/N and I were actually just talking about another ladie's weekend!" Vivianne chirps excitedly. "Do you think you'll be able to come this time?" Morrigan's gaze returns to her friend.

"It depends -- Rhys always has something for me to do, we have more of an army than we know what to do with, and..." she glances sidelong at you. "I suppose it depends on how this meeting goes today, doesn't it?"

Vivianne bites her lip, trying to feign nonchalance as she offers a simple shrug. "I... I suppose, so."

Morrigan takes in a breath, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "It'd be so much easier if the men here could get off their high horses; if we started working together years ago, we would already be prepared for something like this." She lets out a short laugh, and you can't help but crack a smile.

You definitely should have heard Tamlin out. An alliance with the Night Court? That was absolutely the move.

Vivianne and Morrigan shatter on as you reflect on how wrong you were, shouting at your mate like that last night, what were you thinking? You were already friends with Vivianne, which meant Kallias was willing to work with your court-

"Hello, everyone! So glad you could all make it." Kallias' voice rang out through the room, his voice bouncing off the ice-walls. "Please -- join me at the table, everyone, as we discuss this upcoming war."

Morrigan tutted, and Viv muttered a "men, right?", which caused you to chuckle as you made your way to your seat. Your heart caught in your chest as you observed Tamlin in the chair beside yours, his chosen outfit for the day was green, fitting, and... attractive.

You began to pull out your chair, only stopping when his large palm covered yours atop the wood.

"Allow me."

The quiet offer was all you needed, as you moved to sit, allowing your husband to push you closer to the table. He sat quietly next to you, and it took everything in you to not lean over and kiss his cheek.

"Alright -- at our last meeting, I believe we were discussing the matter of battle origin," Kallias begins. He droned on, and on, and on, discussing various maps of each court as he earned input from the other two High Lords in attendance. Beron, though he was your ally, didn't know how to say anything respectful; you opted to sneak a glance at your husband instead of listening to his opinion.

Boy, what a mistake that was.

You felt silly, foolish for the thoughts running through your head. Your mate's jawline was clean shaven, his silky golden hair flowing to his shoulders. The way his cream-colored pants fit him... Gods, you only could imagine the way his strong thigh muscle would feel against your aching clit, his strong hands guiding your waist back and forth as you made a mess on his-

"And, what do you have to say about this?"

You were so wrapped up in your dizzying thoughts that the question came as a shock to you. While you were trying to come up with an answer, something to say to that -- Tamlin spoke up.

"I believe we will have to agree with Kallias on this one."

His answer washed over you like a bucket of ice water. Kallias? The Winter Court? Examining the maps laid upon the table, one thing was clear -- the decision of where to camp for battle was very divided.

All it took was one look to the High Lady of the Night Court's face to realize the grave mistake your husband just made -- they'd never align properly with you, given that you'd taken the side of the court in the minority over their plan that made much more sense.

Even Beron frowned.

"I... I think, what Tamlin meant," you spoke up. "Was that while the Winter Court would be ideal..." you could feel the nerves creeping in. Everyone's eye was on you. Public speaking wasn't a comfortable skill you'd taken on, usually opting for your husband to do most of the talking -- after all, he was much better at it than he had been.

"I think that, while your Court is ideal," you repeated, looking to Kallias and then to Rhysand. "The weather for said activity, is not. From my understanding, the Night Court is much better suited-"

"We think the Night Court is a good idea, but it may be better to lie in wait here where invading armies are less likely to look." Tamlin interrupts, trying to steer the conversation in favor of the Winter Court. You huff, only trying to show your change of heart from the night before.

Kallias' satisfied expression changes when Rhysand opens his mouth.

"Let the lady speak, Tamlin... she is your High Lady, after all." He offers you a polite smile, and you clear your throat once more.

"I think... we have to agree with the Night Court, on this one." Tamlin shakes his head beside you, his knuckles white as he clasps his hands together atop the table.

"No no, we are aligning our judgement with the Winter Court." He half-smiles at Kallias. Beron raises an eyebrow.

You look at him, brows knit. "I think my husband is... confused, as we already talked about our allegiance with the Night Court," you punctuate, hoping to get the memo across that yes, he was right, and yes, aligning with the Night Court would be best.

He stares blankly. "I'm not confused. About any of it." The two of you stare eachother down, only interrupted when Beron claps his hands loudly.

"Well, as it seems the two of you don't have your court's beliefs in order quite yet," he looks to Kallias. "How about an intermission?"

The High Lord of Winter nods. "An intermission -- meet back here after dinner?" Many attendees nod, moving to stand from their chairs. You catch a small wink from Morrigan, clearly pleased with your interest in her native court. But before you can make to stand, your husband's hand braces your thigh.

"You're not going, anywhere." He growls. You sit still, watching as every other member filters out, and Kallias closes the door behind him. Turning to Tamlin, you take a steadying breath as his eyes meet yours.

"Tamlin, I-"

He rushes toward you, his free hand bracing the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours. His other hand squeezes your leg, feeling up and down as he rumples your dress. Lips moving against one another, you let out a soft groan at the feeling of his tongue slipping between your lips, tasting you and fighting for control against yours.

You pull back breathless, your eyes meeting his once more. The dark green irises are filled with pure hunger.

"What are you playing at, Y/N?" He growls, and you have squeeze your legs together.

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, already longing to be on his again. "I... I realized, you were right, last night, and um-"

"And, you thought leaving your mind open to me, during this crucial meeting was a good idea?" His brows lower, while yours furrow in confusion.

"What? I..." Oh.

"You think I can't hear what you're thinking? See what you're fantasizing about, while I'm trying to focus on the plan you suggested-"

"Woah woah woah," you held your hands up, chuckling humorlessly. "How did you miss that I was trying to follow your plan?" He glowered at you. "Tamlin, I know what was said last night was in anger, but you were right-"

"Do not apologize to me." He says lowly. "I had no right to speak to you that way. Speak to my mate that way." Your heart aches at his wors, his mouth mere inches from yours as he maintains eye contact. "And I don't want you ever, thinking I'd want you in any court than mine. With me. Leading, with me."

Your bottom lip quivers. He must have heard your negativity this morning, too.

Before the tears well up too much in your eyes, you pull him in, kissing him again. Your fingers grip his emerald jacket collar, holding on as his mouth devoured yours at once. His hands, Gods his hands... he hoised you out of your chair, placing you on his lap to straddle him instead. You moaned into the kiss, his cock throbbing beneath the restraints of his pants and sending waves of desire straight to your core.

His hands roved all over you, sliding down your back and across your covered thighs before settling on your hips, moving you back and forth across his hardening length. You only break the kiss to gasp when he leans you back, splaying you flat on the table while he pushes up your dress.

"T-Tamlin, we're..." you suck in a breath, his eyes meeting yours as he slides his tongue flat against your clothed pussy. "We could... someone could..."

He reaches out a hand, the small click of the door locking behind him all the assurance you need. His gaze returns to the masterpiece before him, his mouth practically watering as he slides your panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

"Oh... OH Gods," you groan, his tongue returning to your quivering hole at once. You write beneath him, every lick and soft bite around your pussy pure torture. He lays one hand on your lower stomach, pressing down as he inserts two of his fingers inside, curling them deep inside of you.

"T-Tamlin, oh Gods...yes, yes," you chant, feeling the tightening in your lower stomach as his mouth continues eating you out deliciously. At once, the lewd sounds stop -- and you lift your head off the table for only an instant before his hand wraps around your throat, pushing you down to lay flat again.

"You want to tease me during an important meeting, hm?" He smirks, shoving down the waistpant of those well-fitting pants at once. His shoulder muscles flex, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gazes into your eyes while jerking himself off. "This dress? Your attitude?" He tuts, and you clench around nothing as he presses the head against your awaiting hole.

"You're getting what you wanted, my love -- I'll always, give you exactly what you want."

A gasp breaks free as he pushes into you, his girthy length stretching you in the best way. His hand grips your ass, pulling you to the edge of the table. Your hair lays splayed beneath you, your beauty only more captivating to him as he squeezes your throat slightly.

Breathy pants escape with every thrust he gives you, every vein and ridge felt against your sensitive walls. He groans in pleasure, licking his lips as he speeds up, pounding mercilessly into you.

"I... oh, Tamlin, oh... fuck," you moan, and he chuckles slyly at you.

"What a dirty mouth you've got for a High Lady," you suck in a gasp as his hand leaves your throat, opting to slide along your jawline as his thumb runs over your bottom lip. You open your mouth, sticking out your tongue as he slips his finger inside.

"Mmm... good girl," he grunts, watching as you squeak in pleasure beneath him. His hips slap against your thighs, the angle at which his dick is thrusting into you bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You open your mouth, gasping for a single breath. "Tamlin, I'm gonna... oh Gods!" You squeeze your eyes shut as you cry out in pleasure, the pressure in your belly finally releasing as your orgasm rolls through you. He continues fucking you, only slowing when he drains himself inside of you. Pulling out, he offers a small laugh as you make eye contact.

"I think... we need to clean up, before the others return." You giggle, taking his offerring hand and hopping off the table. The both of you work to re-arrange the maps as they'd been before your activities, and you smooth your dress down once you're satisfied with the room's presentation.

"I'll keep these," Tamlin reaches for your undies, pocketing them for later. You blush as the two of you approach the door, unlocking and opening it to reveal a shocking scene.

Kallias stands before you, a brow raised in amusement.

No words are exchanged, until your husband clears his throat.

"We were just discussing-"

"Oh, don't worry. I heard your discussing." He chuckles, and your face reddens. How long had he been waiting there?

Tamlin coughs, opening his mouth again to speak. Kallias only raises a hand.

"No need to explain, friend -- I've already called off the meeting for tonight." Tamlin's brow furrows, and you exchange a look of confusion.

"But, we haven't even discussed our final decision yet-"

"You both... discussed, rather loudly. Assuming you'll give your wife exactly what she wants..."

Your face deepens more in color.

"...you'll be in favor of the Night Court's plan. That's 3 votes to 1." He glances to you, smirking as he turns on his heel. "Seems as though the High Lady of Spring is going to get exactly what she wants."

He begins ascending the stairs, and Tamlin takes your hand in his. The rosiness on his cheeks is cute, but you can tell he's embarassed too as he calls after his ally.

"Kallias, wait-"

The white-haired male turns, looking at you two with an amused grin.

"Maybe, next time, don't use my round table for your...discussions."

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[its-time-to-write]

Can you write a Jamie Tartt request where he and the reader are in the "between lovers and friends stage" and they finally get together when he has her sleepover at his place after finding out her ex was loitering by her apartment?

I’m alive (mostly!) and I’m starting to go through the asks in my inbox again! Sorry to all y’all who have been waiting. I love you!😇😍

p.s. I’ve been obsessed with the song “Margaret” by LDR, which is where the title comes from

(oh also I barely responded to this prompt so that I could write this dumb fic that’s been on my brain forever. so. apologies for that too)

maybe tomorrow you’ll know

It goes like this: boy meets girl, they go to the same primary school, girl kicks around football with boy and sneaks into his room to hug him when his dad’s a prick, boy moves away to become a Premier League footballer and girl cries her heart out because they’re best friends.

Fucking typical.

And yet, he still picks up every phone call. Still answers every text you send. He’ll never say the word “love,” especially not when he’s with Keeley Jones and their faces are all over tabloids and instagram. But you’ll feel it in the way he’s a prick to everyone but you. It’s in the way his voice goes soft when you call him at 2am crying about being dumped by your first boyfriend.

He doesn’t visit, doesn’t phone his mum, but he’ll send you a quick voice message when he can. Usually not saying much, just a snip about training. First it’s all about Pep and the lads at Man City, then it’s about some gaffer named Cartrick and the fact that he’s teammates with Roy fucking Kent.

Jamie never tells you that Roy absolutely fucking hates him, but you know anyway.

Jamie also doesn’t call you when Keeley breaks up with him. In fact, you don’t even find out about it until pictures of Roy and Keeley surface online. You call him as soon as you can, and in typical Jamie fashion, he picks up on the second ring. 

You don’t ask him about Keeley, just let him talk about football and the new manager from America, and the fact that maybe Richmond isn’t so bad and maybe he can let his armor down just a little bit.

He’s sent back to Manchester the next day.

The bonds of childhood friendship run strong, because he’s on your doorstep in no time at all, and though it’s been years since you’ve seen him in person, there’s a part of you that feels like he never left. 

It never goes beyond friendship with you two. You don’t allow yourself to consider him in any other light because this friendship is special and important and neither of you will let anything ruin it.

It’s so strange sometimes to see him on tv or in an interview, eyes sharp and mouth full of barbs. Always on the offensive, always cutting others down before they have a chance to do the same to him. You have a hard time believing it’s the same boy who’s on your couch staring at the ceiling as he fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt.

He’s never spoken that way to you, and you have a hard time believing he ever will.

So you feed him and make him smile and go to as many matches as you can (he leaves tickets on your kitchen table so you won’t protest) and give him a house key so he can come and go as he pleases.

But then he’s gone again, it’s the off-season and he’s on some tv show and you’re watching him flirt and seduce and pull at people’s heartstrings like they’re marionettes, and you realize (perhaps for the first time) how deep the damage has gone.

He gets absolutely shredded online, called all sorts of names by fans of the show and football alike, and you wonder if you’re the only one who can see what’s happening. That it’s all a show and that person, that Jamie Tartt on the screen is not the Jamie Tartt who used to throw pebbles at your window to come see if you wanted to ride bikes together.

It’s different than when he went to the Premier League. He doesn’t answer your texts.

It’s fine though, because your life doesn’t revolve around him. You have other, real friends and a boyfriend and a nice little flat and a good job. So he can go do what he wants and when he needs someone to pick up the pieces, you’ll go because you understand that sometimes this friendship is a one-way street. 

You miss him, though.

You don’t watch his season of Lust Conquers All until your boyfriend calls you and says, “Hey, it’s been fun, but I’m just not feeling it anymore, thanks for understanding,” and then you binge every episode right up to the current one. 

So now you don’t have a boyfriend. You’re glad it hadn’t gone too far, but his words still stung. But you drown your feelings in ice cream and shitty tv and it’s alright because another episode airs in an hour, so you can see more of Jamie and hope he’s doing okay.

He’s not. He gets voted off and you think that’s stupid but also maybe a little bit good.

—

Jamie just thinks it’s stupid. He’s kicked off his only lifeline, and then Man City flat-out refuses to take him back and he has to find out on live television for fuck’s sake. And then he has the brilliant idea to ask Ted Lasso to come back, because of course Ted will take him, what with his yeehaw can-do bullshit. Except Ted tells him no, and now he has nothing.

He’s cut out every friend, every family member and is resigned to life as a has-been before he’s even twenty-five years old.

Now, he’s at home with the blinds pulled. He’s not even sure what time it is anymore because it’s all meaningless, innit? So when there’s a knock at the door, he has to blink a couple times from his place on the couch before turning off FIFA and going to see who it could possibly be.

He hopes it’s you, even though he knows there’s no way. Not after he ghosted you for months. He ignores the uncomfortable flip-flop in his stomach at the thought of seeing you, and the way his heart beats a little faster when he thinks of holding you. 

He won’t cross that line. Your friendship (if it still exists) is too important. 

So he opens the door, ready to see who the fuck is bothering him. 

It’s Ted.

Ted asks, “Can I come in?” but he’s obviously not going to accept no as an answer, so Jamie steps back to let him inside.

Ted’s just standing awkwardly in Jamie’s kitchen, not even pretending that he isn’t shocked by Jamie’s decor. 

Jamie isn’t going to defend his choices to Ted of all people. Nor is he going to do anything to lessen his awkwardness. Finally, Ted clears his throat and says, “Well Jamie, it seems we need to revisit our last conversation.”

Jamie stares at him, refusing to speak until he’s sure what Ted is saying, so Ted continues. 

“I think I was a little bit too hasty when I said you couldn’t come back to Richmond. I’ve been giving it some thought, and we’d love to have you back.”

Jamie looks at Ted, all rumpled in his sweatshirt and shorts, hair as undone as it’s ever been, and is supremely unsure of what he’s supposed to say. 

Yeah, I’ll come back to Richmond. 

Fuck off, you’re too late.

He’s saved from saying something stupid by the sound of the front door rattling as someone punches in the code. 

“You expectin’ someone?” Ted asks. 

Jamie shakes his head, equally puzzled. “No one has the code, except-”

The door is shoved open and you burst through in a flurry of motion. You call, “Jamie?” but you can already see him in the kitchen so you make a beeline to his location and launch yourself into his arms. 

He’s solid as always, smelling like day-old Lynx. His arms are tight wrapped around you, body warm as you press your cheek against his. 

He sets you down after a moment, and brushes away a stray strand of hair from your face. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asks softly, still not quite letting you go. Ted notes that this is a new tone for Jamie. Or at least, the Jamie he’s interacted with. It’s not a performance, not something designed to make people love or hate him, it’s what Ted suspects is the most authentic version of Jamie. Whoever you are, you must be important. 

“Wanted to make sure you were ok. I saw your interview.”

Jamie makes a face. “Fuck’s sake, has everyone seen that shit?”

You shrug. “Hard to miss it. Your mum sent it to me. She’s kind of why I’m here, actually.”

“You know Jamie’s mom?” Ted asks, surprised. It’s only then that you notice he’s in the room. Your face heats up because you wouldn’t have been that grabby with Jamie had you known he weren’t alone.

“Hi, I’m Ted,” he says reaching out to shake your hand, “Seems to me like you know this one from a while back.”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply. “Which is why I figured something was wrong when he ghosted me for fucking ever.”

Jamie winces and Ted takes his cue. 

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” he says. He points a finger at Jamie. “You let me know what you decide, son.”

“It’s a yes, Coach,” Jamie calls as Ted heads out the door. You crane your neck in time to see Ted pump his fist in the air before the door shuts behind him. 

“So,” you say, arms crossed, “you have a big fucking excuse for not answering my calls. But you better never fucking do it again, or I’m showing back up here with Georgie and she’ll kick your ass.” 

Jamie grimaces. Sure, Georgie was never violent with him, but there’s something particularly terrifying about the way she says Jamie Tartt you have got some explaining to do, while her eyes do that thing where they flash and stare straight into his soul. 

“Right, yeah, I’m really sorry,” he says and he’s lucky that his tone backs up his words because if he had one ounce of prick in his voice, you’d make him really sorry. I mean come on, who ignores their family?

The thought passes through your mind just long enough for it to freak you out before Jamie’s tentatively reaching out to hug you again. 

You let him rest his head on your shoulder as you scratch his the back of his head. 

—

You’ve been on Jamie’s couch for the better part of two hours, talking and letting him pretend like he’s not on the verge of tears because at least he’s being open and honest for once, when he shoots up and says, “Jesus Christ, fucking Kyle.”

He turns to you, eyes wide as he asks, “Isn’t he gonna wonder where you are? Shit, and you’re with me. He’s not gonna like that shit at all.”

You shrug infinitesimally while you examine a spot on the wall. 

“We’re not together anymore,” you answer as casually as possible. 

Jamie sighs and settles back onto the couch. “Shit. Glad you finally dumped that prick.”

You glare at him. “I didn’t. He dumped me. And then I found him lurking in my fucking bushes yesterday like a total creeper.”

Jamie’s up again off the couch, this time heading for his car keys as he yells, “For fuck’s sake, love, you should’ve called me.”

“I did!” you shout back. “I did, and you didn’t pick up, did you? Anyway, it’s probably not going to be an issue anymore.”

Jamie returns to the living room, face ashen. “Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. I’m so sorry.”

You shrug and say, “It’s not a big deal. He decided that he liked certain body parts he owned more than he liked intimidating me. 

Jamie grips his keys so hard that his knuckles turn white as he says, “Right, you’re sleeping over tonight because no one fucking treats my girl that way.”

Then he freezes. 

You’re not frozen, because a single shiver has worked its way up your spine. 

My girl.

It came out so naturally. 

And it implied ownership? But of the mutual sort? And in a way that two best friends simply did notbelong together. 

The entire house is so silent, you swear you can hear Jamie blink. Well, that is, if either of you actually moved a muscle as opposed to staring at each other across the room. 

“What-” you start, but your throat is all weird and tight, so you clear it and try again. “What did you say?”

It still comes out much lower than you anticipated and Jamie has a split second to assess your body language and make a choice. 

You’re fully angled toward him, eyes wide. You’re not giving him a look that says, shut the fuck up right now, Jamie Tartt, so he takes it as permission. 

Permission to take one step closer, then another, then another until he’s standing right next to you. He slowly sinks down on the couch next to you as his says in a low, gravely voice, “I said, ‘no one fucking treats my girl that way.’”

Ah. So this is where over a decade of friendship has gotten you. On Jamie Tartt’s couch as your lips crash against his, both wondering why you hadn’t made a move sooner. 

But it doesn’t matter, you’re here now and you’re sure you won’t waste a single second. 

[avonne-writes]

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

#21 for Gale? Pretty please? 🥹🙏🏻

Again, sorry that I took so long! I'm trying to fill all the pending prompts in my inbox now. Thank you for sending this one! 🩷 I wrote a quick drabble tonight, I hope it's okay.

21. Fear poison/gas

A fist swings towards Crank's face, but it ends up colliding with the arm he raises in defence. Buck groans in pain as Hambone and Jefferson jump in to intervene and tackle him to the floor of their crowded room in the stalag. The three of them start wrestling on the floor accompanied by curses, grunts and Buck's panicked wheezing.

"What the fuck did they give him?" Hambone yells as one of the chairs is knocked over by Buck's legs kicking out.

"No idea." Crank replies, deep lines on his forehead. He throws himself down to trap Buck's shins and keep him from breaking someone's ribs with his feet. "Buck, calm down! It's just us!"

"Let me go!" Buck cries out. His pupils are blown wide, and his gaze darts around the room like a trapped, feral animal's. Cold sweat peppers his sallow, sickly face.

The Krauts took him away this morning and only just brought him back a few minutes ago. No explanation, nothing. They just dumped him on one of the beds unconscious, then left without a word. Brady ran out to get Bucky, but in the meantime, Gale woke up, and the first thing he did was attack anyone who touched him. They're all going to sport bruises tomorrow, no doubt. The familiarity of their voices doesn't seem to register in his mind, and the wide-eyed terror on his face suggests he doesn’t recognize their faces either.

Even with three men holding him down, Buck doesn’t stop trashing to get free, but the noises he’s making take an increasingly desperate edge. Crank doesn’t know how to help him when he's in this state of mind. You can’t reason with him.

Thankfully, the door swings open, and Bucky rushes inside, kicking the toppled over chair out of the way to get to Buck's side.

"Gale!" Bucky drops to his knees and cradles Buck's face with his large hands. Crank raises an eyebrow at the name, but he doesn’t say anything. "What happened? What did they do to him?"

Fear-stricken blue eyes go abnormally wide before Buck redoubles his efforts to escape their hold. More footsteps approach from the doorway, Brady and one of the camp surgeons. The sight eases the tight worry in Crank's chest just enough that he can breathe again. Bucky nudges Hambone aside to take over holding Buck's right arm himself and to give the doc space to examine Buck.

The man takes a good look at Buck's pupils, then measures his pulse at the juncture of his neck before reaching into his coat for a small box of pills. Despite Buck's ferocious protests, the four of them somehow manage to hold him still enough for the doc to pry open his jaw and force him to swallow a pill. Immediately after, tears start falling from Buck's eyes.

Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t seem to have the same struggle. As the fight goes out of Buck's body, his limbs go limp in their hold. Bucky moves Buck's arm from the floor to press it to his chest and reaches for Buck's face again. Gently, he starts wiping the wetness there even as more continues to fall. The tears glisten on Buck's freckled cheek.

It's a shock. Crank has never seen Buck Cleven cry. Through the loss of friends, through pain, cold and hunger, even on the bleakest days they’ve had as POWs so far, Buck's composure hardly ever wavered. He remained the pillar of their strength and hope through everything. It makes Crank feel guilty and selfish, but his first feeling upon seeing the fat teardrops rolling down Buck's scarred cheeks is despair, not compassion. His natural instinct of self-preservation makes it difficult for a moment to see past the crumbling Major and see the person instead. Because if the Krauts can break Buck Cleven like this, they can break anyone. They're all puppets to their cruel whim. Crank doesn’t know what to do anymore.

"Fear gas." The doc says, making a disgusted face. "Bastards are testing it on us. My guess is they picked him for his reputation."

The doc clears his throat awkwardly and moves to stand. "Gave him a sedative. We don’t have much left, but... We need the Major back on his feet, I figure."

That makes Crank feel even worse. He watches numbly as Buck opens his eyes again and blinks up at Bucky slowly. The stream of his tears starts drying out. When Bucky gives him a small, forced smile of reassurance, Buck turns his face into Bucky’s palm. As if it was the only safe spot in his world. Crank averts his eyes, and he sees Hambone and Brady do the same.

None of them wants to see. They've never asked. They don’t want to know.

Only Jefferson stares, likely not used to it yet, still trying to figure it out.

After a reassuring squeeze, Bucky lays Buck's arm back on the floor and stands up to offer his hand for the doc to shake. The doc starts talking about side effects he has seen in other men who received this so-called fear gas, but after a moment, Crank turns away from them and back to Buck again.

"Give me a hand, boys." He glances at Brady and Hambone. "We gotta move him."

No one talks. They all feel Bucky's helpless fury, but there’s nothing they can do. Crank rights the chair, sits on it and starts sanding the small wooden B-17 he’s been working on. He keeps his focus on his work and tries not to listen in when Bucky starts whispering to Buck. He knows it's not for his ears.

Together, they lift Buck's barely conscious body and put him on a bed. It doesn't matter whose. They can switch for one night. Buck doesn’t fight it anymore, dazed by the sedative. When the doc leaves, Bucky's back by his side in an instant. He sits on the edge of the bunk and puts a hand on Buck's chest to feel it rise and fall. His other hand curls into a fist on his thigh. Buck watches him with half-lidded eyes.

Tomorrow, he hopes Buck will be back on his feet. Then, they can go back to pretending that everything will be okay.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hello, hello, my lovely readers. So, as all of you noticed, I've been gone for quite a bit. I am so sorry for disappearing on all of you. Life got really, really hard for me. Work was pulling me in and out, then unemployment kicked my ass, all while I found myself all consumed in a new relationship that quickly turned very toxic and damaging to me, emotionally and mentally, to the point I had fallen back into self-harm as he lied to me about the six other women he had on the go, and then ended up having a bit of a mental break. I know I left a commission undone and I promise the reader that I will reach out to them in the next couple of days and figure out things with them.

For now, I am back. I cannot promise, guys, that I'll be on every single day and be super super active. I'm going to do the best I can and actually look forward to writing and answering requests, even if I'm sorely out of practice and won't be as good as I used to be. I look forward to the bit of a break from reality but truth is I'm still healing, so please be understanding and gentle with me guys. I know I have a lot of asks in the inbox. I took some fandoms off my list, so check that out for the updated version. I'll work on the requests I have slowly but, to be honest, a lot of the requests I have are for very detailed or big asks with multiple characters so they might take a bit.

For tonight and tomorrow, early into next week, I'd really love to ease back into the writing with some fun prompts! Please only send one character and one letter/number per ask. You can send in unlimited asks but one character and one letter/number means I can write the requests a lot quicker, which makes me feel productive and happier and more satisfied and makes me eager to write and answer more things! I'll be accepting from the following prompts:

This fandom prompt

This character prompt

This reaction prompt

This polyship prompt

Character prompt #2

Smutty prompt

[lovelynim]

Thank you guys so f*cking much ❤️

Today we reached the 500 followers milestone and I, honestly, couldn't be happier. Day by day, I still question myself if people actually like my content or not, if I should keep going or not, but there is always that little note you guys left when you reblog my stuff that cheers me up and gives me the boost to keep going.

I don't mean to get emotional or anything, but I'm honestly surprised I made this far, specially when I'm surrounded by such amazing creators - which, thanks to this trashy blog, I could become friends with.

This is halfway through my life-time goal (which is 1k, heheh, maybe one day ~) and I really wanted to do something nice to play and celebrate with you guys, but the question is: what should I do?

I have asked a few people around what would be a good day and I'm not quite sure, so... could you guys help me out on this one? I plan to make this quick so we can jump into the celebrations, heheh

A little context in what each of this options mean:

3 sentences fic

I'm pretty sure everyone here is familiar with this concept already, since Ginny's game got pretty popular, buuut: basically, you guys send me a pairing + a spot and I write a 3 sentences fic based on it. If this options win, I plan to do, like, a LOT of them heheh

Speed writing drabbles

I already did this one once, but it's basically as the name goes: I'll have my inbox open for requests and try to write as many drabbles as I can. Might not take as many prompts as the option above, but they might be a little longer (and some might even turn into fics if the prompt really inspires me ~)

Public's choice

The same as my 400 milestone event: you send me a pairing and a starter prompt and I will write roughly half of it and open a poll at the end, with the second half being up to you guys decide ~

5 special fics

This probably won't be the final name, but bear it with me just while we decide, hehe. Heavily inspired on Mia's 2000 followers event, I'll prepare 5 themes (which I'll think of later if this option wins) and you guys can leave suggestions for one of them. Each theme will get its own fic later on, wrote with all the passion from the bottom of my heart ~ (why 5? because it's 500 followers, duh)

I hope it's all clear enough to understand, because it's almost 1 am here where I live and I have to wake up early tomorrow to work hahaha *gets shot*

Again, thank you guys so much for all the support (I'll go through all this rant again in the official post, but anyway) and please vote for you favorite options because I really wanna do something nice to you all ❤️

[florbexter]

Between the years - Prompt Extravaganza

Send a fandom and a pairing for

💃🏻 - Fake dating

🕺 - Accidentally crashing into each other

🐷 - Getting frisky

🦄 - „What do you mean you like me, too?“

🐞 - Only one bed

🍀 - Best friends to lovers

🍾 - Drunk confession

🎆 - Kiss at midnight

🎉 - Anniversary

[hereforhalstead]

Prove it

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Yes.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me walk you home/ If i asked you to stay, would you?”

• Warnings: swearing/ mention of drugs

• Summary: Jay insists on walking you home after a night in Molly’s but after seeing you with Adam he decides to tell you how he feels.

• Words: 2893.

• A/N :  Hope you enjoyed! Thanks so much for the request, I’m feeling motivated to get writing again due to all of the lovely messages and chats I’ve had over the past few days. Please feel free to send across any requests or prompts that you would and as always my inbox is always open :)

***

 “Cheers to no one getting injured on a drug bust for the first time” Adam announces as you all raise your glasses in amusement “Not even you Halstead, gotta be a first. Right?” he adds but Jay rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his drink “Listen, It’s not me you should be congratulating. Y/N is always the one who does something without thinking and gets herself hurt, you should be directing this at her” he tips his glass towards you and you give him a menacing look “Talk about beat around the bush” you mumble but Jay’s chuckle is enough to break your facade as you mirror his grin “Just saying” he shrugs and winks.

The team had just finished up on what felt like a month long operation, in reality you had been planning it a week or so but the observations and scoping out the area made it feel so much longer.  You managed to get the guy you were after and as Adam said, miraculously all of you had avoided injury which was definitely a first. His speech was clearly aimed towards you and Jay out of anyone, Jay was known for getting far too attached and close to cases which often blinded his awareness of danger. You were very similar in that if you saw an opportunity to help someone out you would take it, not weighing up the situation and resulting in you taking risks you probably shouldn’t. 

Because of this, you and Jay had each others backs. Of course everyone had everyones back but not in this way. You’d seemed to have grown a close bond due to you both being very similar in the way you work and think, often knowing what the other is going to do before they even think it. As much of this being a good thing, it has often not panned out as the other will take the first step to try and protect the other and things going south, you’d probably put yourself in more danger trying to prevent Jay getting hurt rather than a result of your own misjudgment. Jay was the same, not thinking about himself and would rather put himself in a compromising position instead of you - sounds twisted but that’s just the way your partnership worked. 

By this point, you’d had a few drinks but was cutting yourself off. You had an early shift in the morning and the thought of the pile of paperwork on your desk reminded you it was not something you wanted to tackle with a hangover. No one else seemed to think the same way, this was soon proved as Hailey made her way back from the bar with another tray of shots. “Oh none for me, I’m having a quiet one tonight” you excused yourself and carried on sipping the remainder of your drink.

“Yeah, I’m also out. Don’t want to be feeling rough with all that paperwork tomorrow” Jay winced and you laughed to yourself at how similar your thoughts always were. “Something you two aren’t telling us?” Hailey downs one of the shots and you almost choke on your drink “Are you being serious?” you question and she shrugs her shoulders with a click of her tounge “I don’t think it’s just me that thinks it, I overheard Kev and Adam gossiping the other day” you dart your attention over to a stunned Kevin who simply purses his lips and turns to Adam for him to defend “I-I.. Don’t know what she’s talking about” he stutters out “You couldn’t come up with something better?” Kevin mumbles under his breath and you shake your head “Nothing to report, right Jay?” you hand over to Jay who was quietly sipping on his nearly finished drink “What? Oh.. right” 

You smile back at Hailey but she doesn’t seem satisfied “I’m just saying, I don’t think he would run into a burning building for much but if you were on the top floor he would be sprinting up them stairs” Kim widens her eyes at Hailey who seems so casual about everything she is saying but you weren’t taking it as lightly and were now feeling slightly uncomfortable “Well on that note, I think I’m gonna head out” you place your empty glass back on the bar and hear them continue to bicker being you “Good one” Adam curses at Hailey who again doesn’t seem fazed “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. You can’t tell me they’re both so oblivious to it as well”. Adam runs his hand along his jawline and stands to pick your jacket up which had fallen on the floor, you hear him mutter a soft ‘sorry’ which you acknowledge with a forced smile “I’ll see you tomorrow”. 

You shrug your jacket on and head for the door, slightly underestimating how cold Chicago can be and regretting not picking up a thicker coat. You start the traitorous walk down the road but feel your phone buzz in your pocket 

‘Stop walking and wait for me’

You squint to see who it was from and your heart slightly picks up speed when you say Jay’s name at the top of the screen, you come to a stop and turn to look over your shoulder. Not seeing anyone there you carry on walking but keep your phone in your grasp when it vibrates again

‘What did I just say Y/N..’

 You chuckle at the message and take another look behind you but this time seeing Jay a few steps away “you really don’t listen for shit do you” he greets and you scoff “Well, nice to see you too”. You carry on walking and Jay jogs to catch up and walks closely alongside you “Early night for you as well then?” you break the silence and he just nods with his hands stuffed in his pockets “Not as good when you’re partners not there” he remains with his eyes pinned to the path ahead and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks and are suddenly grateful for the darkness so he can’t see. You come to a stop and Jay turns back to look at you confused “You don’t live this way? In fact that way” you point in the opposite direction you’re walking and his eyes quickly dart back to you “You think I’d let you walk home alone?” he almost chuckles to himself but you don’t match his amusement “Jay, it’s not even 8pm and I’ve only had a few drinks. Thank you but I’m fine” you pat him on the shoulder and continue walking, you barely get a step away when he’s back by your side.

“I get that, but  I’d feel better if you let me walk you home “. You’re reminded that you still have your phone in your hand when you feel it vibrate, you look down to see Adam’s name flash up on the screen. You show Jay the screen and you can’t help but notice the way he seems to straighten up when he reads the name, you ignore this and answer the phone “Hey Adam” you chime and Jay vaguely hears him respond on the other end “Hold on a minute” you put the phone to your shoulder to muffle the speaker and so Adam can’t hear “Look, if I stay on the phone with Adam and walk home alone. Will that make you feel better?” you whisper to Jay who clears his throat and nods “Do whatever you want” he responds in a harsh but quiet tone before heading back towards the bar. “Sorry, as you were saying..” you turn your attention back to the phone call and carry on your journey home. 

**

The phone call only last a few minutes after Jay left but you made a note to tell Jay it was the full length of your journey home if he ever asks.. You step in the elevator to your apartment block and click the button for your floor, you grasp at the hand rail behind you and lean your head back on the mirror, you were shattered and just ready for bed. The elevator chimes and the doors open, as you exit and head for your apartment you find yourself rummaging around your pockets to find your key, you turn the corner and nearly jump out of your skin as you see Jay stood outside your door, leaning on the wall with his knee bent and foot resting below him. 

He sees your reaction and turns to face you walking towards him “sorry I didn’t mean to make you jump” he softly whispers as you turn the key in the lock “Maybe don’t wait outside my front door when I’m not expecting anyone to be there smart ass” you hit back, still not sure on his attitude when he left you earlier. 

You walk in the apartment and hang your jacket on the hook but turn back to see Jay still hadn’t moved “You coming in or did you come all this way to stand in the hall?” you question but head further in, leaving the door open. You pour yourself a glass of water and hear the door close and the floorboards creak as Jay walks over to join you “What’s going on Jay?” you ask as he leans on the doorframe and therefore making it difficult for you to get past “What did Adam want?” he tilts his head to question but you can tell he isn’t feeling as confident as he wants you to think. You exhale in a laugh and take a step towards him, you expect him to move but he stands his ground and remains in his spot. This forces you to step sideways out of the door, your body glides closely with his. So much so that if you had looked up as you passed him your faces would’ve been inches apart as he looked down at you. You huff and place your glass of water on the side and begin to take your shoes off by the sofa “Just wanted to apologize again for Hailey, I don’t know I wasn’t really listening” you trail off as you find your attention is now more on Jay’s actions and what he’s doing. 

It takes him a minute to turn from where he is standing and face you, you walk in front of him and lean the back of your legs on the sofa to examine him, his eyes flick up and down your body and you reach for your drink to try and act like you didn’t notice “So you’d rather have him keep you company on your walk home than me, I see” he confidentially takes a stride towards you and folds his arms across his chest. You can’t help but notice the way his arms bulge through the tightness of his shirt and struggle to keep your eyes on him and not roaming to admire them “Grow up Jay” you scoff but see him take another step towards you “what are you even doing here anyway?” you add but he remains silent. 

“If you’re just gonna stand and not say anything I’m gonna leave you here and go to bed” you stand from your spot and step away from him and towards your room. You’re stopped in your tracks when his arm latches onto your wrist to stop you “Hailey was right you know” he keeps his grasp on you tight, not in a way that it hurts but almost as if he was worried that otherwise you would walk off.

You open your mouth to speak but he soon cuts you off “I mean not about the fact there isn’t much I would run into a burning building for, as we know from past experiences that isn’t true” you laugh at the memory from when he darted back into an old house that had just caught alight because he had left his phone on the side but he seems to regain your attention “You know what, It’s late I should probably go” he releases his hold on you and you can’t ignore the emptiness you feel from loosing the tiniest bit of contact from him “You can’t be serious Jay. You can’t say that and then leave?” you both fall silent as you wait for the other to speak but you weren’t going to crack first.

“I didn’t plan on coming here Y/N. I didn’t think I would be standing here saying this to you but you were on the phone to Adam and instead of me heading home I found myself coming here to make sure you got home safe. I wish I didn’t care if you were on the phone to him when you walked home, but I do Y/N. I care that it’s me that you choose to keep you company and I’m the one to make sure you’re safe because quite frankly I don’t trust anyone else and especially you to make sure that you are. You’re the most caring person I know and honestly it terrifies me because I know you won’t stop at anything to make sure everyone around you is fine, even if it means that you aren’t and I’m sorry but it’s true”. The way his chest is quickly rising and falling from his outburst stuns you, you’d seen him loose control of his emotions before but not like this. He always struggles to hide his true feelings and shows alot of emotion, but in more actions than words and you never thought you’d see him act this way towards you. 

“That’s great Jay, just great. Here you are turning up at my door because you don’t trust me to keep myself safe. You’re my partner Jay you’re supposed to trust me an-” you begin to retaliate but yet again he is there to cut you off “I do trust you Y/N. I trust you with my life and I trust you a fuck tonne more than anyone else I know but I know you won’t stop at anything to make sure everyone else is okay, so is it so bad that I wanted to make sure you got home safe?” you find him now stood inches from you and you had absentmindedly mirrored his actions but tensely hanging your arms by your side, so rigid that you can’t bring yourself to move them “So what, if I asked you to stay. Would you?” you half heartedly laugh as you almost expect him to shrug if off and give you some funny look.

“Of course I would Y/N. Are you not listening to me? I would stay tonight, I would stay tomorrow. I would stay every god damn day if I could. I don’t wait you on the phone to another guy when it should be me, I should be the one making you feel safe and not anyone else” his tone and volume picks up again just when he seemed to be calming down and you curse yourself for making him react this way again. You take another step towards him as he tries to say something else, you raise your finger to his lip to stop him. His eyes flicker between your fingertip and then back to you in confusion but he doesn’t say another word. The desperation in his eyes as he scans your face makes your heart ache and you feel it alight something within you “Just don’t say another word” you bring your face towards him and place a quick kiss onto his skin “Take your anger out on me”. You run your fingertip along his jawline run your thumb along his bottom lip to place another kiss to the side of his neck “Y/N” he warns, his voice now in a low and much more serious tone.

“I mean it Jay, everything you just said. Prove it to me” you continue to trail light pecks along his skin and leading up the the corner of his mouth “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish” the way he grips at your hips makes you edge them towards him, earning a low moan to escape from his lips “Prove it to me Jay, prove why it should be you and no one else” you taunt as he locks his eyes with yours, he nudges at your legs which are positioned together so his knee slips between them “you have no idea what you’ve just let yourself in for”.

***

[zuluc]

summary: time away and time apart justify your actions, you tell him, but you can’t see how red his face is nor how he’s itching to hold you even tighter

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

style & genre: 

warnings: none

notes: ❄️ anon is carrying me right now 🥺the short prompts really help me get my writer’s brain actually start working so tyty,, also for manifesting diluc may this fic bring all of us good luck ☺️✨

and with more motivation to do the 40+ requests in my inbox haha

It’s been weeks since he’s gone away for business and it only took you hours to start missing his presence. As much as Diluc would have loved to stay home with you and not deal with the stress of negotation and interrogating, done to specific people and entities respectively, he has a job to do and so do you.

Adelinde never minds when you stop by while Hillie and Moco appreciate it whenever they find you sweeping away the leaf piles from the outside of the winery. They did, however, notice your sudden shift in mood after the pyro user left for his work. Even the bar attendees would try and lift your mood for a moment when you’d sit at the tavern. 

You’ve counted down the days until he would return but it was always fruitiless since he never gave you a set time he’d be back. 

“I’ll be gone for a bit,” Diluc tells you as he holds your head to his chest. This was the last night he had before setting off yet again. “Do be careful while I’m gone, my love.”

He says variations of those words to you as a reminder of his care and worry for your wellbeing, in a roundabout type of way. It gives you a warm feeling in your chest.

Your eyes look around the tavern at the loud, cheerful, and flushed faces of the patreons, sighing while flicking at your glass of grape juice.

You wish he’d come back now.

--

Did they understand the premise of the meeting? I guess I’ll have Elzer send them a message for extra confirmation. And that camp was new. The Abyss Mages were cleared out that area last week by...him, but there might be more coming.

Diluc cracks his neck in exasperation and as his thoughts clear he realizes that  he’s already at the entrance of the Dawn Winery. His persistent thinking tires him out and he is more than happy to be resting at the comfort of his own home. Maybe he’ll have a bit of time with you if you aren’t busy tonight.

“Welcome back, Master Diluc.” Adelinde greets him and he nods at her, looking around the winery without thinking about it. The head housemaid gives him a knowing look and grin sets on her face. “Are you looking for something? Or, someone?” Diluc doesn’t answer but he turns his face away. It was a long night so he might as well head to bed and try to find you tomorrow if you weren’t here after all.

He shrugs off his coat as he hears the doors open but before he can place it over a chair, he drops the article of clothing and his arms are suddenly occupied. 

Right when you caught the red color of his hair all reason was thrown out the window as you rushed forward and jumped into his arms, him carrying you.

Diluc steps back a bit but is able to balance himself quickly as he is aware that it is you that suddenly tackled him and not some random stranger. Not many people were this bold to come within a close proximity to him anyways.

“Y/n,” he calls your name and you lift your head from his neck and see his stoic face. Had you been anyone else he might have looked mad, but he in fact wasn’t. You knew the looks he gave when he was mad and the blush on his cheeks didn’t help his current predicament. 

“Ah...” you say slowly upon seeing that you were in the winery with the workers seeing the entire scene. Contrary to what he expected you to do, your arms tighten around his neck and you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care. You were gone for too long so I think I should be able to do this.” He gives you an “are you serious” look but doesn’t make a move to let you go. 

“Master Diluc?” Elzer clears his throat and the winery owner turns around while still holding onto you. Hillie and Moco are trying their best to silence their quiet giggling seeing him look less intimidating with a very special person attached to him. “I should be able to send the letter tomorrow morning and I am aware of what you would like written inside. I suggest you get some rest, it has been a long trip.”

In agreement with the statement you nuzzle further into his neck and Diluc stiffens at the extra affection you are giving him considering who can see you both. You were already in his arms so what more, you reason.

Diluc clears his throat before excusing himself to head to his bedroom. He can feel you smile against him and feel the small kisses you are scattering along the areas of him you can reach. Once the door closes, he throws you on the bed before hovering over you.

“What was that?” He asks you, voice low. He’s a tad bit annoyed but the face you’re giving him satiates that annoyance. 

“I missed you,” you say happily, taking a loose strand of his long hair to press a kiss to it. Diluc sighs and leans down to press his forehead against yours. You gasp in feeling how warm his face was and how close his face was to yours.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispers against you and kisses the corner of your lips. You pout and make a notion to tell him that he missed, but he silences you with a single look. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the attention you deserve.”

[henrys-little-princess]

Can I get #2 in angst? Uhm.... I just... yeah. Really wanna read that. Thank you in advance. ><

of course anon! I tried to make it angsty but it just ended up being sad (but still soft!) instead, i hope you still like it!! -xo poppet :)

insecure!henry x reader, rated g!

tag list (inbox to be added!): @thereisa8ella @myloveforhenrycavill @lharrietg @little-brattyangel @nerra75

prompt from this list - send me one!!

It's Not Like That

Henry had been acting weird for the past few days. Admittedly you hadn't seen much of him because he had been on set for The Witcher for hours on end most days. He usually came home after you had gone to sleep and left before you woke up. You did always try to wake up enough to give him a hug and a kiss when he came home though. And you always left out food for him. But he still seemed sad and you couldn't figure out why.

His texts to you were only a few words long instead of the long paragraphs he had been sending you a few weeks prior. When you did manage to FaceTime with him it was usually only for a few minutes and he didn't seem interested in talking.

You hated to think that he thought that he couldn't talk to you about whatever it was. So tonight you decided that you would get to the bottom of it. You made yourself some tea and sat down at the kitchen counter, determined to stay up until Henry got back.

It was after midnight when he walked through the door. He saw you sitting at the counter and you visibly saw his shoulders sag as he turned his back to you to toe off his shoes. Your heart sank. Usually he would wrap you up in a hug and plant a kiss on your lips.

"Hi Henry," you called, putting down your phone. "How was set?"

"Okay," he responded, his voice small.

You frowned and stood up, going to stand next to him. "What's wrong, babe?" you asked. You wanted to place a reassuring hand on his arm but you didn't know how he would react.

"You should be asleep," he said, ignoring your question all together.

"Henry," you sighed. "You've been acting down all week, I know that something is wrong. If you tell me what it is then I can help you."

Henry sighed, closing his eyes. You frowned at the deep circles under his eyes. When was the last time he had slept?

"Am I not enough for you?" he asked in a very small voice. "I know I work weird hours and I'm not always home and our relationship isn't the most conventional because of that but I-"

"Hey, hey, no," you reassured, this time placing a hand on his arm. He tensed but didn't flinch and you counted that as a win. "I love you, and I won't ever stop loving you. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Henry hung his head, staring at the floor. He looked so small and vulnerable and you wanted to wrap him up in your arms.

"Where is this coming from, babe?" you whispered.

"I just...I usually reach this point in a relationship with someone and they break it off because they can't deal with my schedule," his voice caught in his throat, "and I'm just waiting for you to do the same. I'm off tomorrow but I can stay out of the house if you want to move your stuff out and-"

"No, Henry, listen to me," you cut him off, placing a finger under his chin so that you could see his face. His big blue orbs were shiny with unshed tears and your heart broke for what felt like the millionth time that night. "It's not like that, baby. Did you not hear what I said? I love you and I won't ever stop loving you. And yes, you work a lot and I miss you when you're gone but it just makes our time together so much sweeter."

Henry once again said nothing.

"Babe," you asked cautiously, almost dreading the answer. "Do you want to break up?"

"No," he said immediately. "I love you. I love you so much Y/N. More than I probably should."

"I'm glad we got that sorted then," you said. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips which he returned after a second. His arms came up around you and he squeezed you tightly against his chest.

"You promise you want to be with me?" he whispered against your hair.

"I promise," you whispered. "There isn't anything that I want more than to be with you."

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, just holding eachother. You rubbed gentle circles into Henry's broad back as he breathed in the scent of your hair.

"You said you have off tomorrow?" you asked eventually.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Would you like to have a lazy day?" you asked. "We can cuddle and stay in our pajamas and order takeaway."

For the first time that night Henry smiled and you felt your heart warm. "I'd love that."

[blossom-hwa]

hi lina! congrats on 4 years! i had a dream that kevin had a youtube page and posted vlogs asdfbhbgs may i perhaps request youtuber!kevin?

youtuber kevin is such a concept??? thank you for putting it into my inbox katie <3 I hope you enjoy this!!!

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Reminder: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

~

Title: Happy (?) Birthday!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 804

Triggers: cursing, like one sex joke

~

“Is it live?” Kevin whispers, eyeing Jacob above the camera. When his friend nods a silent yes, he grins. “Awesome! Okay, hi guys - I’ll wait a few minutes so more people can come in, but if you’re already here, try and guess what this live is about!” 

People begin to pour into the comments, a steady trickle turning into a flood as more join the stream. Kevin squints at his phone, reading a few - “A prank? Nah, that’s Changmin’s thing. No late night Target runs, no, no late night snacks either... Why is everything so dark? You’ll see in a minute. Oh, you think it’s for a surprise?” He looks up at the camera again, the smile widening on his face. “You’re getting closer.”

Finally, when Kevin thinks enough people have joined the Youtube live, he decides to put his viewers out of their misery. “Okay,” he whispers. “You guys have made a lot of good guesses, but only a few were right. But today - well, tomorrow...” He grins. “It’s Y/N’s birthday!”

People start all-capsing in the comments as they finally understand. “Yep, it’s Y/N’s birthday in a few minutes, so we’re going to wake them up to wish them happy birthday!” Kevin grins up at Jacob behind the camera. “Oh, yeah. We. Jacob’s here too. As well as all of you guys. We’ll make a video about the birthday party later tomorrow, but I wanted to give you guys the chance to wish them happy birthday at midnight.” He peers into the camera. “Ready?”

A chorus of all capital letters and exclamation marks greets him in the comments, so Kevin gets up. “Y/N’s asleep,” he says, padding softly to your room, “so I won’t talk for a bit. I don’t want to wake them up. Oh god, wish me luck in opening the door.”

Jacob takes the camera when Kevin extends a hand to your doorknob, slowly, slowly twisting it to the right until it feels like he’s opened it enough. Heart in his throat, he pushes the door inside, his hand trembling - 

It creaks. Softly, but Kevin still freezes and he can hear Jacob’s breath catching behind the camera. The comments have to be blowing up, now, but Kevin refuses to let himself focus on that. Instead, he keeps easing the door open, bit by bit, until the crack is wide enough for him to slip inside. 

You lie on your bed in the dark, fully curled into your blankets as your chest rises and falls in sleep. Kevin wants to coo - you look so cute - but he can’t for fear of waking you up before time, so he bites his tongue. He checks his phone. Only one minute left. 

He turns back to the camera and lifts up one finger. “One minute,” he mouths. 

You shift in your sleep. Kevin holds his breath. Please stay asleep, please stay asleep, please stay asleep...

The time on his phone changes, and Kevin has just enough time to grin at Jacob before he yells, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Jolting up, you blink once, twice, three times into the now-glaring light that Jacob has just turned on in your room. “Huh?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. Then - “What the fuck?”

“Hey, no cursing on broadcast.” Kevin covers your mouth. “My channel is family friendly, thank you very much.”

“Bullshit,” you mumble, swatting his hand off. The blankets are still wrapped around you in a little cocoon. “Family friendly left the day Eric slapped you on live.”

“See? Even sleepy and on their birthday, Y/N still refuses to be nice to me, the boyfriend.” Kevin makes a face at the camera. “I'm taking applications for a new significant other.”

“Good luck finding anyone else who’ll deal with your dumb ass.” You rub your eyes before groaning and burying yourself back in bed. “Oh my god, you’re filming me in my pajamas.”

“It’s all part of the plan.” Kevin kisses the top of your head. “Happy birthday, by the way. I don’t think you registered it the first time.”

Your eyes peek out of the pillow. “Thanks. I think. Even though you definitely could’ve done this without filming me in bed.”

“That sounds so wrong,” Jacob mutters. 

“Family friendly channel,” Kevin snaps. 

“Give up on it.” A hand reaches out of the blankets to pat his head. “Thank you for the happy birthday. Oh, and thank you to all of your followers.” You yawn. “Can I go back to sleep?”

“Of course.” Kevin smiles. “Sweet dreams.”

“Thanks.” You bury your face back into the pillow. “Don’t do this again or I’ll dump your body in uncharted waters.”

Kevin laughs. “Duly noted. Love you.”

He hears the grudging smile in your voice when you reply. “Love you too.”

[harryskalechips]

Illicit affairs

A/N Hellooooo! I haven’t written in a while but enjoy this little sad piece inspired by Taylor Swift! Thank you for all the love! I hope you guys are doing well! Feel free to leave a kind message in my inbox ❤️

Y/N was a new intern at Colombia records when she met Harry Styles. Their relationship takes a turn however, when they start an affair.

Tw: Cheating

Thank you @harrysleftchelseaboot for letting me participate in your writing challenge! For any writers out there who want to give it a go make sure to check it out! I would love to read some new work. 

Prompts:

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

“I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Leave.”

Note: I do not condone cheating whatsoever! Please mind that this story is fictional! As much as it makes me sad to paint Harry as a cheater, it’s part of this storyline I thought of as I listened to Taylor’s album, Folklore.

Word count: 5k / Masterlist

Y/N never knew she was going to be in this type of predicament. Falling asleep every night in a man’s arms, only to wake up alone in her cold sheets at dawn. For some odd reason, his vanilla scent smothered her atmosphere every time, leaving her in a subspace-like condition. She found her thoughts easily shifting to him or feeling the need to touch him. She’s whipped but sadly also clingy. 

Does she have an excuse to feel this way? She was only 21 when she began working as an intern at this man’s record label. He was her first serious relationship and although he was married -there always seemed to be a weird tension between them.

It all started when she was assigned to follow Rob Stringer through his meetings in 2017...nonetheless she met Mr. Harry Styles. One of the members of the biggest boy band, One Direction. She knew exactly who he was, especially since he was sexualized by the media too often at an early stage of his career. She knew his first solo album was a hit and that in her job description, she had to be present at every interview he had. She also knew that the ring on his finger was a symbol of love for his wife that he married a year ago. 

Months on end, she barely spoke to him. She was shy -feeling as if her personality would bore Mr.Styles. One night however as the team went out to celebrate his last show for live on tour, he himself invited her. 

They were at a club in New York -A very private one to be exact when Harry found himself too interested in the quiet intern. To be honest, his life at home (when he was there) wasn’t what he planned for. His wife was too busy, only fighting him whenever he stepped foot inside. She barely had any more interests in his music or his life -and suddenly, it felt like two strangers living in that mansion. It wasn’t an excuse for him to keep glancing at the girl as she danced with her co-workers nor was it an excuse for him to buy her a drink. Funny enough, he always thought of himself as a hopeless romantic since he was waiting for that particular someone to love him back once again and save his marriage. But before he could stop himself, he was already walking towards the girls dancing on the floor and getting to know them.

After that night at the club, Y/N felt different towards Mr. Styles. Of course, she was still intimidated but she now knew him on a more personal level, leading her to call him Harry instead. That night as they sat in one the booth upstairs, she listened to his jokes and stories and it made her start to have a little crush on him. But hey, he was married and she would never want to ruin a relationship. 

As her days became busier at Columbia -sorting papers and running for Coffee, She always glanced at the elevator hoping Harry Styles would come out and was in need of a conversation with Rob in person. She knew he probably called her boss though the phone but her brain was rummaging for ideas why he would start appearing in her life once again. That was until one day she heard Gina and Louise in the staff room during break talking about Harry coming in tomorrow. Boy, did her heart began to beat fast. Maybe, it was manifestation but she was a bit too excited to see him again as it’s been a couple of months since she last saw him. 

~

“Y/N,” Rob calls out for her as he plays with a pen in his hand. “Meet me in the main conference room in five minutes. I need you to note down my meeting today.” He gives her a small smile and quickly walks off. She knew full well that this meeting was about Harry Styles. 

As she sat beside Rob at the long table, she realized that the whole table was filled with people from publicity and other departments. Right in front of her was the man she’s been thinking of, beside him was his manager. It’s not like she was deeply infatuated with him but she did love thinking about his pretty eyes. 

Matter of fact, as she first glanced at him, her eyes already met his. He was smiling and staying quiet as the meeting immediately began but his fingers played with his pen as he watched her. She was too focused on the shittier details of what they were discussing. He wanted to tell her so badly that she didn’t need to write some things down but he was having fun watching her bite her lip in stress. He wasn’t smooth though. Since she was already feeling his gaze burning through her. 

As the meeting went on, Harry became a bit more serious about why he came into the office. They were in the talks of his new second album and now, they had to plan publicity and tour. Some of the staff even asked how his trip to Japan was and although he was so excited to share his fantastic experiences, it was sad to mention how his wife didn’t even bother coming along. 

“Are you not going to say hi to me?” Harry teases Y/N as they’re the last ones to leave the conference room after their long meeting. She had to clean up the table while he chose to sit in his chair, pretending to do important things on his phone. When he waved bye to everyone as they left the room, he pointed at his phone, explaining he needed a few minutes to send “important emails” -he just wanted to catch up with his new friend, Y/N.

“Hi.” She tries her best to act normal and unaffected by his presence. “Sorry, I couldn’t say hi earlier. When Rob said five minutes, I didn’t know the meeting was already taking place.” Harry laughs at her apology since he wasn’t petty at all for her lack of greeting today. 

“I was just teasing. How are you?”

“I’ve been good.” She smiles back at him as she tosses the last remainder of paper cups in the bin. “I think the last time I saw you was last year. Where have you been?”

“Why did you miss me?” He raises his brow as he spins his chair a bit. He gives her a smirk as he watches her lean herself on the table. 

“Just a bit. I loved watching your interviews.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms against her chest. “At first I wanted to sleep through them but now I rather go through those back and forth instead of, filling random sheets out for Rob.”

“Heyy, I think I’m pretty interesting during interviews.”

“Oh no! Don’t get me wrong you are! It’s just you have such a raspy voice and you talk so slow! You can literally put me to bed anytime.”

“Am I talking slowly right now?”

“Just a bit. I haven’t seen you in a while. I kind of forgot!” She laughs. “ What else did you do other than Japan? Spent some time with your wife?” Y/N wasn’t going to lie… bringing up his wife kind of made her uncomfortable but she knew this was a good way to get to know him in a friendly way. 

Harry couldn’t help but give out a humourless scoff as he rests his head back on the chair. His eyes, however, meet her’s again. She couldn’t help but watch his adam’s apple bob up and down. 

“Marriage is hard you know. If I’m being honest with you, I haven’t spoken to her in a week. She’s been on vacation, travelling in Europe I think with her best friends.”

“She’s a model, right? She must have a lot of free time. I’m sure she can make space for you.” Harry slaps his knee in sarcastic humour as he shakes his head at Y/N’s innocent idea of who his wife truly is now. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s more complex than I thought. I haven’t really been in a relationship at least a long term one.”

“Are you free tonight?” Harry asks her out of the blue.

“Yes.” 

“Can I come over? We don’t need to do anything but I would love to hang out with you and I don’t know... forget I have all these responsibilities.”

“Sure.” What Y/N didn’t know that this night would forever change her relationship with Harry.

~

It was late in the night as Harry sat on Y/N’s couch talking to her about everything. His life, his career, his marriage. Usually, it wasn’t easy for him to open up so quickly to a stranger but for some odd feeling, his gut was telling him that he could trust this pretty girl beside him. It’s like he knew she was trustworthy and non-judgemental. 

Ever since he first noticed her during his meetings, he found himself involuntarily glancing at her. That was until he grew some balls and invited her to his after-party. Maybe, He did find her pretty and a bit too hot but even if his marriage is going through the rocks, he did not want to cheat. He didn’t want to be that type of guy. Yet during his time in Japan, he found himself thinking of what would happen if he was single right now? Would he actually make a move on her?

“What are you thinking of?” The same woman calls him out as she takes a swing of the wine bottle into her mouth. 

Yes, the found themselves enjoying Harry’s expensive red wine so now they’re passing the bottle. 

“You.” He was a bit tipsy and so was she but they were still sober enough to choose their words properly. 

“Me? Why me? Why not that hot model you call your wife.”

“She left my mind before I even met you.”

“Yet you’re still with her. Why?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at her as he takes a sip of wine. 

“Okay, so why are you thinking of me? Are you happy you have a new friend?” Her cheeks were very red at his confession but she was trying to make herself believe it was because of the alcohol. 

“I’m happy that I finally got to know the girl who sat quietly in the corner during my interviews.” He smirks at her as he watches her try to hide a smile. 

“I was intimidated by you!” 

“Why was that, love?” Y/N was not expecting him to call her that. She places the almost empty wine bottle on her coffee table and sits back in her same position as she’s wrapped in the same blanket Harry is.  

“You’re Harry Styles. Every woman is head over heels for you and Every man wants to be you.”

“Are you head over heels for me?” Harry squints his eyes as he says the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It wasn’t his intention to flirt with her but they both knew they had overpowering chemistry. The only thing holding them back is well… Harry’s marriage. 

“No.” She bluffs. He continues to look at her. “Fine, a bit but you’re married so I know how to control myself.” 

“What happens If I can’t?” his tone drops as he mumbles to himself. “I’m sorry what?” Y/N chokes as she looks at him. 

“I know I’m married fuck.” He sits up and rubs his face in frustration. “It’s just I never wanted a girl so bad after my marriage. I shouldn’t! I should be happily married but for some shit reason, I can’t get my mind off of you.”

“Harry, there’s consequences about what we’re talking about right now.” Y/N sits up as well as she watches him. Does it still count as cheating if his wife is barely in his life anymore? 

“I know. I’m sorry. I know you aren’t that type of girl. I would never disrespect you like this. I should leave.” He begins to stand up immediately. Y/N says nothing as she follows him to the front door of her apartment. 

“Thank you for coming, Harry.” She opens the door to let him out. He simply nods as he walks past her through the door. As she watches him walk down her hallway, she closes the door. How was she feeling? Well, she was trying her best to not feel regret but instead relief. She leans her body on the wooden surface, trying to make herself feel happy that nothing happened between them -Yet her heart was beating too fast for a guy she had just met.

The loud pounding on her door, however, makes her head shut up. She immediately opens it to find no one other than the curly-haired man who had just left her apartment a minute ago.

He immediately grasps her face into his hands as he kisses her eagerly, making her shut the door behind him. His body quickly pushing her’s against the wall, as his lips attack her jaw down to her neck. Her hands resting on his shoulders as she leans her head back to give him more area to leave his soft licks and kisses. 

“Shit Y/N. You’re making me go crazy.” 

“Harry.” She moans as he rubs himself against her centre. He whispers a command to her, making her jump and wrap her legs around his waist and he carries her to the first surface in his line of sight, which is her dining table. It was a dark wood wooden table that was meant only for eating purposes.

He helps her take off the sweater she was wearing as she throws it behind it her without a care. With her hand, she guides his mouth back to hers, making them both moan as this sexual tension is finally being relieved. Her nipples became hard in an instant as they felt the cold temperature. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” He pulls away as he’s unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth was open a little bit from their heated makeout and his lips were juicy pink after kissing her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

“You want to fuck me right here?” Y/N blurts. She wasn’t the type to have sex with a new partner for the first time on her dining table but her room was a mess and she was a bit shy letting him in there. 

“Are you that eager baby?” A smirk plays on his lips as he tosses his shirt. “Well If you’re that needy, why won’t you take off my pants?” Y/N’s cheeks turn red as she reaches forward to unbuckle his jeans. “You know, how fucking long I’ve been jerking off with my right hand?” Harry asks as his hand runs through her soft hair, letting his thumb rub against her pink plump lips. 

“For a long time, Daddy?” She murmurs against the pad of his thumb as she lets his thumb enter her wet mouth. 

“Look at you, you’re a little devil.” Harry pushes his pants off until they reach mid-thigh. He quickly helps her out of her tights, pulling them off her almost instantly that she had to hold onto him. “Should I get a condom?” He pants as his hands involuntarily run themselves against her soft thighs.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too.” He looks down at her closed legs as he pumps himself a bit. “I promise.” Y/N nods as her hands guide his body back closer towards her.

 “Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.” He whispers as he watches her show him her wet needy sex. “Fuck, you look so good right now.” He leans in to kiss her more. His mouth going south as they reach her breast. His mouth sucks on her nipple as the other grabs and rolls her the other one.

“Fuck stop teasing me. I need you.”

“Beg for me, Y/N. I know you want to.”

“Harry please!” She feels his hand directing his wet cock to her centre. Teasing her and playfully slapping her entrance. “Daddy!” His eyes immediately stop looking down as he grabs her hair, making her look at him. 

“You okay with this love? Do you like it rough?” Y/N nods her head as she stares into his eyes. 

“I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes, I want it rough.” 

“What did you call me earlier?” A cheeky smile forms on his face as he watches this little girl about to crumble in his hand. 

“Daddy.”

“You’re going to keep calling me that or what?”

“Only if you want me-” Harry inserts himself in her, making her choke on her sentence. 

“What do you call me?” He leans a bit further downs so their bodies rub against each other as his arm supports her back while the other hand chokes her neck. 

“Daddy! Fuck, I call you daddy!” 

“I know I’ve been deprived of some good sex but you feel so fucking tight! Do guys not know how to fuck you?”

“Only you can.” Harry pulls his hand away from her neck and instead grasps her face so she can watch their centres connecting. 

“You like that view? Is it turning you on? You’re fucking clenching me, baby!”

“Harder, daddy.” Her arm wraps around his shoulder as he pulls away and turns around, making her bend on the table.

“You want it harder baby? I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll never be able to sit at this table without remembering how I fucked you so good.”

~ The day after their first time sleeping with each other scared Y/N. As much as she tried to avoid letting Harry see her messy room, they ended up in there anyway. They participated in a couple more rounds and a deep conversation too until they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. 

What Y/N was scared of was how Harry would react when he woke up in her sheets. Of course, they weren’t too drunk last night but the alcohol did give them a confidence boost. Now it’s the day time and they have to deal with this new boundary they had just crossed. 

“Good morning.” A raspy voice speaks up as she sets her head on her hand. Her elbow putting all its pressure on her pillow while she watches the man who’s laying on his stomach smile at her.

“Hi.” She gives a soft smile back. Harry immediately notices the hickeys on her neck, making him not guilty but a bit more proud.

“I marked you.” Y/N’s eyes widen as she sits up and wraps her hands around her neck. “Why you don’t like them?” Harry fixes his position too so he can rest his back against the headrest. He rubs his eyes for a few seconds before helping her straddle his waist. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

“You’re married.” Her finger mindlessly traces one of the sparrows on his chest. 

“I know.”

“You think she’ll get mad?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she cares.”

~ Y/N and Harry’s affair went on for months that they even reached his tour and new album reveal. Although they never said the three most important words, Y/N already knew it was there.

What she loved the most these past months with Harry was their privacy.  The secret hookups in changing rooms, the knowing glances in a room full of strangers, and their affectionate touches when they had to pass things to one another in front of her boss. 

She knows he’s married and there was no doubt, they fought about his relationship status. But Harry explained that divorces in Hollywood were more complex than for a regular couple. And while Y/N pretended to understand, she truly didn’t. She didn’t understand why he had to keep up this act of being in a happy relationship when he can simply leave his wife -not for her benefit but for his own happiness. Still, every time this fight occurred, they chose to sweep it under the rug. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to lose him. He had always been so persistent on his reasoning why he’s been delaying that action. She was scared that he would leave her during another fight only to run back to his wife. What she didn’t know was that she may be a bit too right, after all, he wasn’t ready to admit that his marriage was over. 

“Hi, Baby!” Y/N opens her door to find her “boyfriend” with a bouquet of flowers. 

“Hi!” She wraps her arms around him in a hug as she lets him enter her apartment that they know too well. If she had to be truly honest... despite having so much alone time with Harry, she’s never been on a date with him but you know -that’s something she had to let go when she decided to get involved with a famous married man. Yet it still didn’t stop her heart from feeling envious when she would be in the restaurant with her friends watching a random couple have dinner together.

Harry takes his hood off and hands her the flowers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t text you this past couple of days. You know that woman who lives with me.” He sighs and gives her a kiss on the lips before continuing on, “We were having lunch together and she noticed I wasn’t wearing my ring anymore so we fought.”

“So you’re wearing it.” Y/N places the flowers on the table and crosses her arms.

“I have too.”

“No, you don’t Harry. She’s only wearing her’s for show. You’ve been cheating on her for seven months!” Y/N snaps at him. She hated it when he wore his ring. It was just a real sign that maybe he was lying to her during the times, he said he was over their marriage and he was going to leave her when things become less complicated.

“Baby, hey stop yelling.” He walks towards her so he can wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry. You know I care so much about you. Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t stand that you’re married to another woman. Please leave her Harry.” Y/N pulls away as she holds onto his shoulders, begging him. “Please.”

“I’ll try.” He breathes out.

“You’ll try?” She pulls away immediately looking at him. “What do you mean? Have you not been trying to do that these past few months!” He rubs his face in frustration. 

“It’s hard Y/N. I told you countless times.” “I know it’s hard but what’s stopping you from doing it! You told me that you don’t want to lose me but for some odd reason, it seems like you don’t want to lose her!”

“She was my first love Goddammit!” He finally yells back at her. 

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie and they lie and they lie

A million little times

 They both found themselves caught off guard as the silence screamed in their ears. How could this safe space where they spent their nights rolling in the sheets feel so… indifferent? “Harry please be 100 percent honest with me.” Y/N backs away slowly as she reaches a few feet apart from Harry. “Do you want to leave her?” 

Silence.

“You told me you did? Did you change your mind?” Her eyes widen as she watches the man in front of her absolutely speechless. “I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours.” She lets out a sarcastic laugh. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”  He stares at the ground with his hands in his jeans. “Of course, I want to leave her! It’s just-”

“Leave.”

“What Baby no!” He quickly looks up and tries to make his way towards her. 

“Harry, stop. What we have is over! I’m not going to let you use me until your stupid sick marriage fixes itself!”

“Y/N that wasn’t my intention I swear! You know what marriage means to me! I can’t simply-”

“Fuck what you think of marriage! You don’t want to leave her but you rather continuously hide me while you go to awards with her -While you go on fucking dates with her!”

“It’s for publicity-”

“I don’t care!” She screams. “I realized that this isn’t working out and we should stop!” The pressure in her chest was making her hyperventilate. “We should have stopped months ago!”

“Fuck I don’t want to lose you, please. You’re the only thing that’s been making me so happy.” He reaches out to take her hands but she simply pulls away.

“Harry! Listen to yourself! You’re married! I’m starting to think you have a fear of having a failed marriage like your mom and dad! But please for the love of God, don’t drag me around because I won’t let you!” Harry’s faces change into anger as he gives her a cold look.

 “Well don’t drag my parents’ marriage into this! I told you that because I trusted you not so you can use it against me!”

“That’s not what I was trying to do!” Y/N pleads. “You won’t lever her Harry! You won’t!” 

“How do you think people will react!” He gestures with his hands. “ After three years of marriage, Harry Styles is getting divorced!” He mimics a random news reporter.

“So-” “I’m not going to let myself be categorized under Hollywood’s failed marriages!” “It was already failing before you met me! Can’t you see I just want you to be happy!”

“I am happy when you’re with me!”

“Well, I’m not!”

“You don’t mean that.” Harry scoffs as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration. 

“How can I not? I’m hearing stories every day about your fights at home. This isn’t even a relationship Harry! It’s an affair! An illicit one! And I-I’m a secret!”

“I don’t want to share you with the public! They will judge us and they’re going to ruin you as they ruined me!” He rambles on. “I’ve been stalked and judged for things I didn’t know matter!” 

“I would rather go through that with you -than to watch you from far away and only have you with me when we’re here inside this apartment.” She points at the floor. 

“I can’t Y/N. I can’t let that happen and I won’t.”

“Then this is over then.” She quickly wipes her tears as she notices Harry doing the same. The yelling seemed to die down as they finally realized that this problem they tried to ignore wasn’t going anywhere.

“You know… for some reason, you taught me a lot of things.” Harry clears his throat as he wipes his wet palms on his pants. “Despite only letting you have one half of me. You somehow took over my whole mind. God, I would love to fight for you Y/N.” He looks at her as he feels tears forming in his again. “I do - I truly would.” A pause happens before he continues, “ For you, I ‘d ruin myself a million times but I would never let you do the same.” He emphasizes to her. “ I don’t want to let you go but I know I should because even if I go get that divorce, I’d still want to keep you as my secret -and that’s not what you want.” 

“I-” Y/N stops herself. She wanted to tell him that she loves him but she knew it wouldn’t help them at all. “I’ll still see you for a while. After my internship though, I’ll be gone.”

“Do you think we’ll stay in touch.”

“I don’t think we should.” She blurts it out as her eyes glance at the fresh bouquet sitting on her table. 

“Alright. I guess that’s it.” Harry sniffles a bit before walking to the door. “I’ll see you.”

“Goodbye.”

And Y/N thought she wouldn’t have to see him again after her internship. Although her heart was broken, she found herself counting the days until she can find a new job. After their unexpected ending, she no longer found herself lonely in the mornings but during the nights too. 

The days he came by the office were more difficult than she thought. She would still feel his gaze on her during their meetings but he no longer greeted her nor gave her any attention. He would walk right past her desk when he visited the office but he would act as if he never knew her in the first place - Not a glance or a wave. 

And that was fine with Y/N, at least she tried her best to think it was. Until her meeting with Rob a week before Harry’s album release. 

~

“Y/N, I would love to offer you a job here at the company. I  will give you a position in Marketing for Harry Styles.” Rob hands her a manila folder across the table. “ You know a few months ago, he spoke about your hard work and how much potential you have and he’s right. This would look great on your resume and the pay will be better here than if you were to start off at another company.” 

Days of thinking and non-stop anxiety flooded Y/N’s mind. She knew her plan was to cut all ties with the pop star but the career that had just been handed to her had so much potential. Potentiality can help her with her student loans and give her a more comfortable life. She would be stupid if she passed the offer because of him. So with no more hesitation, she took her phone and called Rob.

“I’ll take the job offer.”

Part two here!!

[sailorshadzter]

Hiii! Welcome back!!! If you are still taking requests, how about an one shot where Cersei kind of notices the tension between Jon and Sansa and comments on it? Maybe in a "We are not so different" way? Or she straight up encourages them bc she's a horrible person and thinks if there are rumors about the Starks, they'll forget about the Lannisters?

ANON. whew this has been in my ask box for a while! but i opened my inbox to find some inspiration to write and yours was the one that clicked first! so i hope you see this, anon, wherever you are, and know that i FINALLY got to your prompt request!!!

as always, you're always welcome to drop a prompt request in my inbox.

enjoy!

The ball is grand and glittering.

Cersei has ensured that this night would be perfect, putting far more coin into it than Robert ever would have allowed. But there is little else she can do, what with the trouble brewing all around them. She's lost one son already, she will not lose another- and so she has gone to great expense and trouble to make sure that this room was full of loyal nobles and fearsome knights. This wedding would not end the way the last one had, even if the bride was the same.

From where she sits, she watches as the young Sansa Stark dances with her half brother, the bastard born Jon Snow. The young man had been intended for the Night's Watch, but Tyrion had developed a fondness for the boy during their visit North, and so, he'd come along with the Stark's. They are close together, the dance bringing them so, but the smile that lights up the redhead's face is one that Cersei swears she's worn herself, but when she looks upon Jaime. And the usually stoic Snow looks just as delighted to spin his sister out and back in, hands at her waist to lift her high into the air as the music swells. Cersei chuckles, wondering how's she's not noticed it ever before. The wheels in her brain are suddenly spinning, whirling several thoughts throughout that bring yet another smile to her face.

As if her thoughts have conjured him, she feels Jaime's presence at her elbow; he bows over his arm, ever the courtier, but she knows it's more for show than anything else. "What has you so cheery?" He asks, his green eyes scanning the dance floor, where sure enough his gaze falls upon the Stark siblings as they finish their dance among all the others, though it quite seems they've forgotten they aren't alone. "They make a handsome pair, do they not?" Turning back to face his lover, he sees he's right, for she's staring down at them with a look he's seen before. "What are you thinking?"

"That proud Ned Stark's children are falling in love right before our very eyes." They both knew what the world would say about two siblings, albeit half, falling in love. Was it not why they themselves took every precaution? Cersei shudders to think what would happen if the truth was ever discovered... The rumors were bad enough. But this... Two Stark children in love? It would cease the rumors about her and Jaime, that she was certain of. She watches as Sansa dips a quick curtsy to Jon before he offers her his arm, which she readily takes, and they disappear into the crowd.

"See that Lady Stark is brought to me tomorrow morning, won't you?" She says to the nearest lady, who nods, curtsying before she scurries away to do as she's been bid. Cersei turns back to face the dance floor, but it's suddenly become far less interesting.

And so she must wait until morning.

[ x x x ]

It's late, yet she cannot bring herself to leave his arms.

Jon holds fast to her, kissing the top of her head, her silk gown soft beneath his touch as his hands span the length of her spine. "I should go..." She whispers for the tenth time, though his grip does not relent, nor does she make any attempt to pull away. He smells of spice and smoke, comforting and strong; she buries her face deeper into his chest, wishing she could sink into him. "Jon..."

His name is soft on her lips.

Their gazes meet and he's lost, as he always is, in the depth of her blue eyes. "I know," is all he can say, knowing as well as she that it was best for her to go. They both knew where this moment would lead- after all, how many times had they been here before? But more than anything, they both knew what would happen if they were discovered in such an embrace. And yet... There's a part of him that doesn't care. There's a part of him that wishes with all of his might that they could be together in the way that they wanted. No more secret midnight rendezvous that only left them both feeling more strained than being without the other. "I'll walk you to your rooms..." He begins, but she shakes her head.

"Shae is waiting," she says softly, finally freeing herself from his grip. She feels cold without his touch and that is almost enough to send her back into his arms. "I will see you in the morning," she goes on, reaching out her hand to tenderly touch his. Jon nods, catching her hand so he might bring it to his lips to kiss. The brush of his lips to her knuckles steals the breath from her lungs and time is suspended as they stand there, the only sound in the room that of the fire burning in the hearth. "Until the morning..."

"Until the morning," he parrots back as he let's go of her hand. "Good night, Sansa."

The way he says her name sends shivers down her spine. "Good night, Jon." She says instead of every other thing she wants to say.

[ x x x ]

In the morning, a lady arrives at her door to inform her she's been summoned to see the queen.

Though no longer truly queen, Cersei Lannister runs the Seven Kingdoms through her youngest son, the now King Tommen. Just a boy, he's been married to Margaery Tyrell, who only several weeks before had instead been married to Joffrey. Poison had taken care of him, but Margaery and her family, ever the schemers, ensured that she would take her place as queen. Sansa was certain that it would not be long before a new power struggle would emerge. Soon, it would be Margaery and the Tyrell's fighting for control of poor, young Tommen.

Once she's dressed, Sansa, with Shae beside her, makes her way down to Cersei's office.

When she's been announced, she steps into the room, one which she has spent much time in over her years in King's Landing. Once she had been thrilled to be invited into this room, to spend private time with Queen Cersei... But things have changed. Though she dips her the curtsy due to her rank, Sansa does not return the smile offered to her by the golden haired woman behind her oak desk. "Lady Stark, tell me, how did you enjoy the ball last night?" Cersei asks, gesturing for Sansa to take the empty chair across from her. The young woman frowns, but does as she's bid, clearly surprised by the question. Cersei notices she wears a new gown of pale blue damask, made from a bolt of fabric she was given by Jon Snow a few short weeks ago; though it is fashioned in the Southern style, Cersei sees that the trailing sleeves are stitched with falling leaves, weirwood leaves, like those that grow in the North. Even her hair, which once she wore in styles that mirrored her own, is fastened into braids in a way that reminds Cersei of Catelyn Stark. It is Sansa's way of breaking with the Lannister's entirely; she is no longer theirs to control.

"It was wonderful, your grace," Sansa answers honestly, shifting slightly in the chair, brushing a lock of red hair across a shoulder before she accepts the goblet of wine being offered to her. "Very grand." She goes on, though she's no longer thinking of the ball, but of the last dance she and Jon had shared together.

"Your brother is quite the elegant dancer, I must say I'm surprised." Cersei's voice breaks into her thoughts and Sansa blinks in surprise. This certainly was not the topic of conversation she expected to have upon being summoned to this room. "The two of you make quite the couple." At this, Sansa chokes on the sip of wine she's just taken, her stare wild and frantic as it rises up to meet the queen. Inside, Cersei is laughing- she's been right there was Sansa was before, so many years ago. Back when her feelings for Jaime had first begun to grow into what they were now. She could recall their dance lessons, when a compliment on how well they fit together would leave her blushing and stammering, just as Sansa Stark was now. "You needn't hide it from me, Lady Stark," she goes on, taking advantage of the young woman's silence. "I see how you look at him... And how he looks at you."

Sansa's heart was beating fast within her chest, so fast she can barely catch her breath. Was she and Jon truly so obvious? They had painstakingly tried to keep what was brimming between them beneath the surface... But had last night been their very downfall? "I-I do not know what you mean, your grace," she says, adopting a cheery but confused tone, cursing herself for being a terrible liar. From the way Cersei is smiling, Sansa knows she does not believe her, not even for a moment.

"You know, Lady Stark, if there is one thing in my life I regret... It is not ever being with the one I truly loved." Cersei speaks from total honesty, saying aloud the words she's never spoken before to anyone. Not even to Jaime. She knows what it will take to sway proud Ned's child into something such as diving head first into an incestual relationship. But she knows the way to sway the young woman, for it was the same way she swayed herself all those years ago. "Someday you will be married to a man who you likely do not love," they are both reminded of a similar conversation, one they had shared before her marriage to Joffrey was to take place. "You should experience true love, even just once in your life." These words resonate with her and Cersei knows it. Her blue eyes widen and she opens her mouth as if she means to speak, but cannot find the words. "We cannot help who we love," Cersei says, though now she wonders if she's still speaking to Sansa, but rather to herself. "But if any love was so truly wrong, why would the Gods allow us to feel it in the first place?"

Sansa's heart beat has not ceased in it's pace, but a slow realization is dawning upon her as she listens to Cersei's words. There is meaning behind them and she knows, those words are not meant only for her. She recalls the rumors spread just before her father was beheaded, rumors about the truth of Joffrey and his siblings parentage. The truth about Cersei and her brother, Jaime. There is a part of her that worries this is just a trap, a set up to catch her and Jon in the act, something that would earn them the scorn and disgust of all of King's Landing and likely the North.

And yet...

You should experience true love, even just once in your life... Those are the words she's replaying in her brain, over and over again, knowing that Cersei was right. It would not be long before a marriage was made for her, one that would likely be loveless and political, one that would do nothing for her but everything for the Lannister's. Without her father or mother or even Robb to protect her from such a fate, she would be doomed to marry a man of Cersei's choosing.

When she's dismissed a few minutes later, Sansa wastes no time.

Shae, who has waited for her outside Cersei's room for her, rises up from where she sits on the windowsill. "Find Jon for me, won't you?" She asks in an undertone, to which her lady stares back at her for a long moment before she nods. If there was anyone she could trust with what she was about to do, it would be Shae.

Once she's back within her own chamber, she brings herself to stand before the looking glass, staring at her own reflection. She knows that doing what she's about to do will change everything, but she knows she cannot go on in life without knowing what it will feel like to be held by a man that truly loves her. If she can only taste his love this one time, then she will go willingly into any marriage presented to her, for Jon's love she will carry with her for the rest of her life.

A knock on the door comes.

By the time she's turned around, the door has opened and it's Jon standing there. He's staring at her, taking her in as he always does, those Stark colored eyes enough to bring her to her knees. "Sansa," he greets, feeling just as she does, the shift in what lays between them. She crosses the room as he does and so they meet at the center, a minimal distance between them. The blue damask gown suits her in a way he cannot describe and he's, as always, struck by her beauty. Somewhere behind them, Shae quietly ducks into the antechamber, out of sight, out of mind- but there all the same.

There's so many things she wants to say, so many things she needs for him to hear. But the words do not come, no matter how hard she wills them to. And so, instead, she does the only other thing that makes any sense; she kisses him. She kisses him with as much passion as she can muster and he falls into it, his arms winding around her only so he might pull her closer. When he breaks free moments later, it's to stare into her eyes, to ask her one single thing. "Are you certain?" She nods.

That's all he needs.

This time, he's the one to kiss her, leaning in to capture her mouth with his. One hand remains perched at the small of her back, though the other one slides into her hair, uncaring of the pins he knocks loose. She's kissing him back, meeting his tongue with her own, the sensations rushing through her body unlike anything she's ever felt before.

It does not take long before they stand at the side of her bed, the canopy hangings pushed aside so Jon might sit upon the edge. He beckons her closer and she comes to stand between his knees, allowing him to turn her around so her back instead faces him. Then, she feels his hands as they begin to loosen the laces of her blue gown until it begins to slip over her shoulders. That is when she turns back around to face him and she allows the gown to fall to the floor at her feet, all so she might stand there in nothing but her chemise.

And then, Jon draws her down into the bed, and into his arms.

[hypmic-writings]

Congrats on your 2nd year! So glad I came across your account. Your fics truly inspire me to write again. I’m the one who asked for the father-daughter bits but that could defo wait. For now, a 73 for Doppo, pretty please with a female colleague who’s slightly his opposite. Thank you so much! 🥰

73. “How did they…how are they doing that?”

Thank you, and I’m glad I was able to inspire you a bit! Yes, once the askbox is open again, definitely send in that request, it was super cute!

I’m so sorry, I don’t know what this is. You don’t know what this is. Your cat doesn’t know what this is. I know this was a suggestive prompt, but I just had this idea and decided to run with it. There’s definitely more suggestive Doppo in the inbox though, so don’t worry, you’ll get some NSFW with him, I promise! Hope this is okay and that you enjoy this regardless~

Word Count: 1,867

Genre: NSFW (PG-13); Fluff

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You walked through the empty hall of the art museum, tapping your pen against the clipboard and going over the itinerary once more. This was the 10th anniversary for the annual gala that your company put on and you were easily chosen to be on the planning committee due to your friendly demeanor. You had taken on the duties with a smile and grace only you possessed.

“Should this go here?” Doppo asked, pulling you attention away from your clipboard of action items and towards a box of party favors.

“Yea, that’s perfect, you can leave them right there. The others will be back tomorrow morning so they can finish up before the evening,” you said, shooting him a smile. You watched him closely as he nodded and shuffled off to grab the rest of the boxes before sighing to yourself.

How could a grown man be so…cute?

You had been working with Doppo for over a year now and you still weren’t sure if he considered you a friend, although if you had it your way, you would be much more than friends. What had started as admiration for your colleague’s work ethic quickly into a small crush which then quickly turned into wanting more.

But you had only ever had conversations in passing with Doppo before this. Maybe that was why you had chosen him to be a part of the planning committee for the gala. You remembered back to when you had first asked him to join you and how stressed and flustered, he had reacted. You had immediately retracted your invitation, but for some reason or another he insisted that he had time for it.

Unbeknownst to you, Doppo felt quite the same way.

Whenever he was constantly under the stress and pressures of work, you were his saving grace. If coworkers were trying to chat him up in the break room and he was becoming anxious, you were always there to turn the attention elsewhere. Whenever he didn’t know how to respond to his boss or a client, you were somehow there with a solution or answer.

Your happy-go-lucky personality mixed with your hard-work and determination made you someone that Doppo admired. Well…he admired you in other ways too. Your eyes were always sparkling with happiness or excitement and it made him feel comfortable around you. Along with thinking you were absolutely stunning, he would always watch the way that you smiled and laughed around other colleagues, and would feel a little jealous.

There was no way someone as perfect as you could ever love a useless nobody like him…right?

“Okay, that should be it,” you said, marking off the last box on your To-Do list. “Thanks for all your help, Doppo!” you exclaimed enthusiastically. Doppo nodded and walked over to you.

“It’s kind of late…were you going to take the bus back? We can get a cab if you want. That might be safer…” he offered, his voice small, but echoing in the large room. You hummed a little as you looked around.

“Actually, I wanted to take a look at some of the paintings before heading home,” you mentioned, glancing around the room. “Do you want to look at them with me?” you offered sweetly.

Doppo felt his heart race in his chest at the prospect of spending more time alone with you as he nodded slowly.

“Yes, I wouldn’t mind that at all,” he said, rather quickly, feeling the heat rise to his ears as he turned his gaze away from you. Your smile faltered a bit at his reaction and you wondered if he was feeling burdened by your ask. Was he only staying because he felt obligated?

“O-okay! Let’s start here then!” you said, pushing away your doubts and walking over to the closest wall.

The paintings lining the walls were all complex, abstract pieces. This was the modern wing of the museum and most had been donated by wealthy individuals. You gazed over each one, taking your time to look at them, fascinated by what you thought you could see and what the artist was trying to portray.

Doppo was silently watching your intensely focused face from beside you and noted the way that you mindlessly bit into your lip when you were concentrating hard. It was something he had noticed when you were working on projects together and something he had found extremely adorable.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, preparing to ask you the question he had been preparing all night.

“Y/N – ”

“Hey Doppo – ”

You both glanced at each other in surprise as you spoke simultaneously. You smiled a bit and offered him to speak first but he insisted that you continue.

“I was just going to ask what you think this painting is,” you said, turning towards the painting and tilting your head slightly. “It’s called Lovebug but I can’t really make out anything,” you added, bringing a finger to your chin.

Doppo followed your gaze to the painting and took a step closer to you as he looked into the bright, vibrant red hues that covered a white canvas. He followed your lead and tilted his head, trying to make out any shapes.

“Oh wait…that kind of looks like a man,” you said, pointing towards the left side of the canvas. Doppo imagined the outline of a man and squinted ever so slightly.

“Ah, yes…it kind of does,” he said, nodding a bit. He was still nervous from moments before, but the painting was a good distraction and he was now interested to figure out what it was.

“Oh, that also kind of looks like…” you mentioned, trailing off a bit. Doppo raised eyebrows as he looked over at you. To his surprise your face was flushed and your eyes had widened a bit.

“What?” he asked, suddenly confused as he looked back at the painting.

“Nothing…uh…,” you began. You feared having to explain exactly what it was you saw, but by the look in his eyes you knew he was concerned.

“Y/N, are you okay? W-what did you see in the painting?” he asked, hurriedly, his voice filled with worry. You shook your head, feeling the heat rise to your face as you pointed back to it slowly. The picture that was blurry was now clear as day and you found yourself embarrassed when looking at it.

Especially when the man you were interested in was standing right next to you.

“Nothing…just…” you began before sighing a bit. “It’s…um…it also has an outline of a woman in the middle,” you explained, trying to get Doppo to see what you were seeing. Now it was Doppo who was intensely staring at the canvas as you watched him closely.

“I don’t…” Doppo began, before the imagine in front of him suddenly became clear. There was a moment of silence as he stared at the painting before he tilted his head slightly. “Oh…how did they…how are they doing that?” he mumbled, his face also flushing a bit.

His mind was screaming at him to say something, anything, to make the situation less awkward. But the idea of commenting on such a sexual, lewd painting when the current center of his affections was right next to him seemed cruel and impossible.

You glanced back at the painting, clearing your throat quickly. This was ridiculous, there was not reason to be this nervous in front of a colleague. It was a painting in a museum, not some picture on a shady internet website.

“I’m…not sure…” you stated, plainly. “But, I’m sure the artist meant to convey strong meanings of lust and passion or something like that…red as a color is used that way a lot,” you explained, trying to lighten the tension of the room. Doppo nodded along in agreement.

“Yes, I’ve heard that as well,” he added, actively avoiding glancing back at the painting.

“Like this one!” you exclaimed, quickly pointing to the next painting. “Look at how the red is used to convey passion, but as anger instead of lust,” you explained, already feeling less awkward.

You and Doppo finished looking at the paintings rather quickly and before you knew it you were back where you started.

“That was nice!” you exclaimed, you usual exuberance returned. “Thanks for looking at them with me. I think tomorrow is going to be a complete success,” you added, giving Doppo a thumbs up.

“Yes, I agree. Thank you for letting me join you…” he said, his voice a bit softer than usual. “Ah, and yes! The gala tomorrow is going to be good. You worked really hard on it, so I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” he added, more strongly.

You were about to mention that you were going to take a cab home when you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh hey,” you began, turning to face Doppo. “What were you going to tell me before? I cut you off and you never told me,” you said, smiling kindly at him, trying not to think of the awkward moment with the painting that had taken place after that conversation.

Doppo felt his heart skip a beat at your words. He knew exactly what he was going to ask you, he just needed to do it.

‘What if she says no? What if I ask her and she shoots me down? Will she hate me forever? Would she laugh at me? There’s no way, right? What if she thinks it’s harassment? Will she tell my boss and everyone at work? Oh god, am I going to get fired? But I need this job for the money for rent! Am I going to get kicked out of the apartment if I don’t have it in time? And what if I get put on a list and then I can never have another job and I won’t have any money and I won’t – ’

“Doppo?” you asked, as the man in front of you seemed to snap back to reality. You frowned a bit and looked at him was worry. “Are you okay? You were kind of mumbling something but it sounded like you were in pain,” you explained, reaching out, but stopping before you put a hand on his arm.

“Ah, no, it’s nothing like that!” he exclaimed quickly. He took a deep breath and tried to remember what Jakurai had told him to do whenever he felt a mild panic attack.

You waited patiently for Doppo to compose himself and once he did, you were surprised to see an unusual look of resolve and confidence in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice strong. “Will you accompany me to the gala tomorrow night?”

As soon as his words left his lips you felt your heart rate speed up. You were surprised, of course, but you were also beginning to feel ecstatic. You bit back a grin as you discovered that Doppo in fact did return your feelings and you quickly nodded at him.

“Yes, I would really like that,” you said, nodding happily.

You watched as a smile of relief covered Doppo’s lips as he excitedly asked you what time you wanted to meet and where.

[beetlebitchywitch]

52 with Incubus!Beej sounds so made for eachother

52: “I’m not jealous! It’s just...you’re mine!”

HAX I’M SO SORRY this has been sitting in my inbox for A G E S but hey, we’re gonna give some more Incubus!Beej a shot!

Note: this was supposed to be a smut prompt. But I took it to real soft places. Whoops. 

Where the fuck are you?

Beetlejuice was pacing, his body unable to stand still for longer than three seconds before the anxiety simmering in his belly threatened to explode into a rolling boil. The jagged sound of his forked tail dragging across the hardwood floor felt like the perfect soundtrack to the racing thoughts and images clouding his mind as he frantically scanned the street below your apartment. Six hours ago, you’d left in a cloud of perfume, hairspray, and nervous energy, promising to be home in four hours, and with each passing second a new possibility assaulted his tired mind. You, sprawled out on the concrete stained wet with blood and tears. You, bound and gagged in some freak’s basement with a gun to your head. You, bound and gagged in some freak’s basement because you asked to be…while the first two thoughts were frightening, the last was simply enraging. His fear and his anger swirled like a violent maelstrom in his stomach, bitter tears biting at his eyes at the feeling of the storm brewing inside of him. He didn’t want to yell, he didn’t want to cry, he just wanted you home and safe in his arms where you belonged...but you were his feeder. Nothing more. Demons don’t deserve love. Demons don’t deserve love. Demons don’t deserve love. 

It was this mantra repeated daily that kept him from pouring out his heart to you from day one. 

Before he could even attempt to unpack the terrifying, poisonous concoction that was his emotions, his ears perked up at the sound of a key in the lock. The simmer in his stomach fell to a weak bubble as the door flung open to reveal you, safe and sound and as gorgeous as ever, a smile on your face and completely impractical shoes in hand. No blood, no rope, no bruises- you were ok. You were home. 

And then his nose twitched and burned as the smell of breather punched him in the face like a heavyweight boxer. And not his breather- male breather. The scent was pouring off of you like a heavy smoke billowing from every pore on your body, the acrid stench bringing the bubble of emotions back to the edge of a boil in seconds. 

“Hey, Beej,” you greeted casually, tossing your heels onto the floor before falling into his arms. He held you close, of course, trying his best not to gag. “I’m home.”

“I can see that, snack,” he said slowly, fighting valiantly to keep his disgust hidden. “You’re two hours late.”

“I know, I know, I would’ve called but my phone was dead. I’m sorry, Beej, but we were just having so much fun,” you groaned happily, eyes sliding shut at the thought of your late-night activities. He bit back a snarl as he let his fingers run through your hair. 

“I was worried, kitten,” he replied, the calm evenness of his words underpinned with a dark, foreboding tone. “Not like I knew what you were up to. It’s easy to get taken advantage of when you’re drunk.”

“Please, I had one beer the whole night,” you countered, wrapping your arms around his neck. It was true, he figured, he could only barely smell the alcohol on your breath underneath the overwhelming, enraging stench of men. God, he’d had enough. 

“Oh yeah? And what else did you have tonight, feeder?” he finally asked. You went stiff in his arms. Your eyes were downcast, afraid of the quiet anger you knew you’d find in his. “Or is it better if I ask who?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, wriggling out of his arms and escaping into the kitchen- he was hot on your tail, though, toes nearly clipping the back of your heel as he pursued you. “I was just out with my frie-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Beetlejuice interjected suddenly, pounding his fist on the counter and sending a few pieces of silverware clattering to the floor. You jolted with a yelp and pressed your back against the wall, your posture reading only fear and God, he didn’t want to scare you, he never wanted to scare you, but the pot had boiled over and now there was no stopping him. “I can smell them on you. How many men touched you tonight, hmm? How many fucking disgusting breathers got their fingerprints all over you? Tell me, I’ll have their hands sliced off and mounted on my goddamn wall!” he growled, eyes and hair flaring a brilliant, blistering red. 

“None, Beej, baby, listen to me,” you said desperately, refusing to take a step closer to him with his claws dug so dangerously into the counter. “It’s a club, you’re constantly pressed up against other people, of course I’d come home smelling like someone else! Are you seriously telling me you don’t believe me?”

“Why should I? Why should I when you’re two hours late and smelling like a goddamn brothel-“

“God, do you fucking hear yourself?” you cried, finally meeting his gaze with ire of your own bubbling out of you. “I wouldn’t have gone out at all if I knew you were gonna be a jealous brat when I came home!” 

“I’m not jealous! It’s just...you’re mine!” he retorted, seemingly desperate for the words to describe how he felt and frustrated when he couldn’t find them. 

“Maybe here I am,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to calm your growing frustration. “But tonight...tonight I got to be mine, Beetlejuice. My whole life can’t just be defined by belonging to you...I have to do what I want too. And tonight I wanted to go out, so you’re just going to have to live with it.”

You expected rage. If anything you were more prepared for it, the yelling, the fighting, the inevitable bout of make-up sex that would leave Beetlejuice satisfied in more ways than one...that, you could handle. What nearly knocked you off your center of gravity, however, was how his shoulders slowly but surely slumped, his entire posture bowing under a feeling of defeat as a deep purple crawled its way through his hair. It was silent- you didn’t break it even to take a breath. 

“I...I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, his voice thickened with unspoken sorrow. “I should’ve known better. I...I’m just gonna go.” 

No. God, no, this isn’t what you wanted. The shade of purple tainting his hair nearly made you sick, because you knew exactly which emotions that color represented. You wanted to reach out, to pet his hair and hold him close and tell him it would be ok, but it looked as though he might shatter underneath your fingers. His usual light, his mirth, and his infectious rambunctiousness were gone, replaced with soul-crushing sorrow- he’d argue that he didn’t have a soul, but in your eyes, that was impossible. His soul shone so brightly in your life that you suspect the sun could disappear tomorrow and yet you’d feel no less warm, no less alive. Him leaving would be a solar eclipse that never ended, a blanket of darkness that covered you absolutely, drowning you in nothing but nothingness. No, that simply could not happen. 

“Bug, don’t go,” you pleaded, bringing out the name you only used on rare occasions. It seemed to get his attentioned, his tail flicking more insistently across the tiled floor. “I...I don’t want you to leave. Please.”

“Why?” he asked. God, his voice was utterly broken, despondent beyond belief and it killed you. “You have a life, Y/N. I can’t have one. It’s like you said, you belong to yourself- it’d be wrong to keep you shackled to being a feeder when there’s so much more you can be. Let me go, snack. Let me go so you can live.” 

You didn’t realize you were crying until the tears dropped from your chin to the floor below. By now, Beej’s hair was nearly black, the purple sheen only visible when he turned his head towards the light. Each word out of his mouth felt like a death sentence, each step towards the door like the lowering of the guillotine. Tonight was the night he knew had been coming for months- the night he’d be forced to realize that you were too good for him, that demons truly don’t deserve love, and his eternity was always meant to be spent alone. This would play out like he always knew it would, and there was nothing to be done about it. 

“No.”

...Well. That was certainly a wrench in the gears. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, feeder,” he sighed, moving back into the living room to prepare for his departure. “A month from now you’ll thank me.”

“I said no, Lawrence.” He gulped- you only used his first name when you meant business. “If you leave...I...goddammitdoIhavetodoeverythingmyself-” 

Before he could even ask what you meant, you were in front of him, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes to crash your lips into his. You tangled your fingers in his hair, trying to show him what you’d been dying for him to realize for months, but you knew that you’d have to say it. You were afraid of putting yourself out on a limb, but you knew that even if you fell, somehow, he’d catch you. He always did. 

“God, Beetlejuice, I fucking love you,” you murmured against his lips, pressing your body as close to his as you could. He wrapped his arms around you, keeping you steady- a good sign. “I’ve loved you for so long and if you left nothing would be right. I belong to myself, but I belong to you too, and I never want you to go away because if you did I think a little part of me would die.”

You were rambling, you knew you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out- you’d kept yourself silent for far too long and now all of it was spilling out of you with nowhere to go but directly to Beetlejuice’s heart. He cradled you close, pressing your face to his chest while you continued to mumble and murmur your love for him into his skin. You were trembling, and he steadied you. You were terrified, and he comforted you. You were lost, and he guided you. And you loved him, and he-

“I love you too,” he whispered into your hair, his words fluttering like a feather through your body until they settled deep into your soul, finding their permanent home there. “God, do I love you, snack. I love you more than life and death themselves, but I’m a demon- and demons don’t deserve love.” 

“Says who?”

“Says...says…”

“...If you’re about to say your mother, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

He laughed and your heart skipped a beat; you lifted your head from its place against his chest and saw a soft pink had crawled its way through Beej’s hair, mingling with the purple that still lingered at the tips. 

“I guess you have a point,” he admitted with a soft sigh. “She drilled that shit in my head from day one. Didn’t need me wondering why mommy dearest would choose booze over me, right?” The sadness mellowed his rough voice, but you simply buried your face in his chest again, breathing in his comforting scent. 

“Some demons don’t deserve love, like certain bitchy mothers whose names shall not be spoken,” you breathed, drawing another little chuckle from his lips. “But some do. You do. All you have to do is let me.” 

...Could he? The one truth he ever knew was that love was out of the question. His existence was about feeding- satiating his desire for warm flesh against his until he got hungry again. Feeding didn’t require love, his existence didn’t require love, so could he let you love him when it seemed so alien to him? But when he looked down at you...your eyes pleaded for him, glistening softly with unshed tears and framed by long, dark eyelashes. Your lips parted with each breath, reddened and swollen from his kisses. Your hair framed your face so gorgeously, tousled locks cascading down your shoulder and just brushing his hand where it laid splayed across your back. You looked at him with admiration, like if you so much as blinked he may vanish so you wished to take him in while you could. It frightened him. It excited him. He had no choice, he realized, but to give in to the inevitability of you. There was nowhere else for him to go- this was where he belonged. 

“...Ok.”

[akechicrimes]

Prompt 37? Futaba and Akechi platonic/Futago siblings?

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

after akira leaves tokyo, futaba does just fine without her key item, except for when she doesnt.

(one of them AUs were goro survives the engine room and rejoins the phantom thieves. no i will not explain. persona 5 canon AND persona 5 royal do not interact. for reference in this universe futaba and akechi are half siblings but only akechi knows that)

*

“Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person,” Futaba tells Akira excitedly on his second-to-last day in Tokyo. “I’m going back to school, I’m out and about by myself—oh! Oh! Did I tell you I said yes to Kosei? I told Kosei I wanted to go to Shujin and they offered me scholarship! And I went to the subway station by myself yesterday!”

They’re crammed into Akira’s Leblanc attic, sitting around a cake that literally none of them were capable of baking themselves, so they’d bought the thing from a bakery and decorated it with little black and red hearts. Ryuji is passing around his gross soda, while Ann is recounting some story that doesn’t matter with incredible enthusiasm. Makoto looks like she’s determined to enjoy herself and will hear no argument.

The whole thing is incredibly morbid, if you ask Futaba. It feels less like they’re waiting for Akira to leave Tokyo and more like they’re attending Akira’s funeral. Akechi in particular looks like he’s regretting attending, which honestly tickles Futaba more than it should, that the most dishonest Phantom Thief seems to be the only one looking as honestly put-off by the entire affair as everyone else is determined not to be.

That’s everyone else’s problem. Futaba might not be happy Akira has to leave, but she’s proud. She’s sad that Akira has to leave, but also she promised Akira that by the time that he had to leave, she’d be able to get around on her own, without clinging to him for support. And she is able. She kept her promise.

Tomorrow might be the day that Akira has to go, but today is the day that Futaba is Officially Recovered.

Akira does that annoying thing he does where he puts his hand on her head and messes up all her hair, like he’s a human cat showing affection by pissing everyone off. Futaba yelps. “Look at you. You don’t need me at all.”

“I told you that I’d be ready to say goodbye by the time you had to go back to your hometown,” says Futaba. “I haven’t broken my promises yet, have I?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Haru over something Yusuke said, who looks rather surprised to discover that he said anything funny. Both Makoto and Akechi snicker at him, and then stop immediately to glare at each other the second they realize they’ve accidentally wound up sharing an opinion.

Akira ignores them. “Well, you can still text me if you need me. Or call.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m getting better and I don’t need you,” Futaba grumbles. “Also, what kind of psychopath do you think I am to call someone on the phone?”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“Calling people is scary.”

“I thought you were getting better?” Akira teases.

“I am!” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I am! Just you watch, Akira. I’m getting better every day.”

*

Six months after joining Kosei, Futaba locks herself in her room and does not reemerge for seven days straight.

*

She tells Sojiro that she’s sick. Sojiro tells the school that Futaba told him that she’s sick. She definitely fakes a hell of a good cough, and the school lets Yusuke send her her all the homework that she was supposed to be doing in the first place, but Futaba already knows it’s only a matter of time before Sojiro rats on her, and she won’t even blame him because it’ll be for her own good.

In the meantime, she has stashes of crackers and peanut butter from back when she was a full-time hermit. She hates the taste of peanut butter within three days. Her bed is a relief, soft like a home she never left, up until it isn’t anymore. It’s too soft. No matter how she lies on it, no matter how soft it is, a mattress just isn’t comfortable when you’ve been lying on it for seventy-four hours. It’s hot. Smothering. She feels like she’s going to drown in the blankets and they’ll have to fish her moldy, sweaty corpse out of the bottomless quicksand pit of her too-soft mattress.

The thing about being a shut-in is that you don’t actually like your room very much. It’s not a relief, or an oasis, or even a place you enjoy. You’re just terrified of everywhere else more.

She plays a lot of video games that she doesn’t even like. She watches a lot of Twitch streamers she doesn’t even like. She doesn’t do her homework. She ignores Sojiro. She pretends she’s alright to everyone who texts. She wakes up and goes to sleep and thinks about going outside and goes to sleep and wakes up and wonders if the whole last year and her cautious baby steps back into the world outside was all just a hazy dream.

*

There aren’t a lot of Thieves left in Tokyo, weirdly. Haru and Makoto both graduated, off doing business and law junk that honestly makes Futaba’s brains want to crawl out her ears, but all the numbers check out and Haru’s not in the red yet, and Futaba’s looked at enough people’s dirty laundry to appreciate Haru’s clean ledger. Akira’s back in his dinky hicktown, where there’s barely anything electronic connected to Wifi worth breaking into for surveillance, which is really boring.

Ann’s been doing so many modeling gigs that she might as well not be attending Shujin anymore. She’s practically surrounded by electronics, and all of them are connected to the internet. On any given day, Futaba can snoop through the internet trail of electronic file cabinets full of images of her face, emails about her face, paychecks for her face. Futaba sends Ann more than one email about creepy old dudes making gross comments about her, along with a bunch of other illegal shit they’ve done, plus their offshore accounts full of cash if Ann wants Futaba to sic a lawyer on them.

Ann looks like she’s having fun. Ann looks different on the other side of the computer screen, like she’s less real. Like she’s not someone Futaba really knows. Like Ann’s not someone Futaba’s literally cried on at one point in her life.

Ryuji is definitely attending Shujin, but between physical therapy, catching up on a whole year of track, athletic scholarship hunting, and studying for college admissions tests, Ryuji seems to have been swallowed whole by Shujin, really. Out of boredom, one day, Futaba went down that rabbit hole of researching what it takes to get recruited for track in college, and holy shit–apparently Ryuji’s coach was supposed to be helping him with that whole process, but of course Ryuji barely has a proper coach ever since Kamoshida left Shujin’s track program in pieces. The amount of networking he’s doing is insane, especially for one teenaged boy who barely remembers his homework every night.

Sometimes, when Ryuji’s forgotten to check his email in a while and there’s a message from a coach sitting in his inbox, Futaba will send him a text to make him check it. And then it’s all, What were you doing looking at my emails, Futaba and Which of my other passwords do you know, Futaba, as if Ryuji doesn’t just use the same password over and over and has literally nobody but himself to blame.

So it’s really just Futaba, Yusuke, and–weirdly–Akechi, who’s off doing his gap year and said he was going to go abroad, but then he never did. Not to be a huge snoop, but Futaba went digging through his junk for about five seconds and then she never did it again, because she felt really weird about finding out that the guy that killed her mom is looking into social work, volunteerism, and reforming the justice system.

Like. The man who killed the Thieves’ leader is now literally out there saving orphans. It’s wild.

She might’ve been the one to tell Akechi that he can start over again and do better, but she reserves the right to at least feel weird about it.

She does not call Akira. She talks to Yusuke at school, but she refuses to ask him to accompany her on the subway. She should be recovered by now, shouldn’t she? She was supposed to have gotten over all that when Akira left Tokyo. She’s doing fine. She’s just looking out for her friends. Her, living vicariously through her friends, who’re growing up and growing away, flourishing into young adults? Never.

*

Everything is the same.

*

Didn’t she help kill a god last year?

Didn’t she work so hard to get out of her room, to make friends, to reconnect with Kana-chan?

Didn’t she work so hard to change herself?

Didn’t she help change the world?

*

Everything is the same.

*

Tuesday, 1:43 PM

YUSUKE: Futaba?

FUTABA: yo inari

FUTABA: u got more homework for me or what

YUSUKE: Ah, no.

YUSUKE: I think your teacher finds it suspicious that I’m sending you homework when I’m not in your grade, as it is.

FUTABA: oh no

FUTABA: what a shame that we didn’t have an entire year of experience with getting away with wildly illegal magic brain crimes without raising any suspicion

FUTABA: truly emailing me like four pieces of paper a day is far too difficult

YUSUKE: Well, I can’t get your homework from your teacher, but I can give you more homework if you’d like.

FUTABA: ok bucko that wasn’t a challenge

YUSUKE: There’s a math problem set that’s been incredibly dull to get through when I have more important pieces I could be working on…

FUTABA: inari im sorry to say but

FUTABA: me literally doing your homework for you is about a thousand times more illegal than you giving me my homework when ur not in my grade

YUSUKE: Oh, is it?

FUTABA: wh

FUTABA: are y

FUTABA: what do you mean OH IS IT

FUTABA: did you not KNOW ur not allowed to have other ppl do ur hw????

FUTABA: inari have u been making other people do ur hw for u so u can have more time to do art?????????

FUTABA: no shut up i dont want to know

FUTABA: i will not be ur accomplice

FUTABA: i see ur little speech bubble thingamajig yusuke i said stop typing forever and ever

YUSUKE: I can’t invite you to the art gallery tomorrow if I can’t type.

YUSUKE: It also seems impractical for you to outlaw me from texting forever.

FUTABA: i literally did not say that

YUSUKE: You said, and I quote,

YUSUKE: “Yusuke, I said stop typing forever and ever.”

FUTABA: ok i know it looks like i said that but please im begging u it’s literally just an exaggeration

YUSUKE: As Makoto would say, it’s hardly an enforceable law.

FUTABA: u literally texted my sick and crusty ass just to give me a hard time

YUSUKE: Are you about recovered from your cold?

FUTABA: and now u have the nerve to ask me to go to ur art show thing

YUSUKE: I didn’t say that.

FUTABA: oh really

FUTABA: what were u gonna ask me about then

YUSUKE: The art show, naturally.

YUSUKE: But you could have done me the courtesy of letting me ask.

FUTABA: all that on the day of my daughter’s wedding and now u want me to do u a solid

FUTABA: well i have news for u

FUTABA: the answer

FUTABA: is yeah

FUTABA: sure why not

YUSUKE: Oh, excellent.

YUSUKE: I thought that you might decline on account of your illness.

FUTABA: i’m not a punk bitch

FUTABA: i’m going

FUTABA: u were only working all those paintings for like two months i wanna see their oily faces in person

YUSUKE: Just because they were made with oil paints does not mean that they are oily.

FUTABA: cant wait to see my oily boys

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, I have to set up the event beforehand, so I will not be able to accompany you on the way here.

YUSUKE: Will you be alright by yourself?

FUTABA: uh

FUTABA: hmm

FUTABA: how oily are these boys in case i need to call a rain check

YUSUKE: Hmm.

YUSUKE: Perhaps someone else can go with you.

YUSUKE: Let me see if I can find someone.

FUTABA: what like one of ur art friends

FUTABA: i’m not going with anyone i dont know sry

YUSUKE: I’ll keep it in mind.

Tuesday, 1:59 PM

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, Ann and Ryuji were not available. Both of them will be coming late to the art show.

YUSUKE: Fortunately, Goro is.

FUTABA: whomst

YUSUKE: Goro Akechi?

YUSUKE: Crow, in case you know multiple Goro Akechis.

FUTABA: no like why u callin him goro

YUSUKE: I asked him if I could and he said yes.

YUSUKE: There’s not many people left in Tokyo who were part of the Thieves.

YUSUKE: I’m not exactly popular at school myself, so I thought it prudent to hold onto the connections I already had.

FUTABA: hhhhhhhhhhhhh

FUTABA: but why him……………………………………….

YUSUKE: Has he done something wrong?

YUSUKE: Well.

YUSUKE: Besides the obvious.

YUSUKE: Last I heard, you were quite vocally supportive of Goro making a change for the better,but have you prehaps reconsidered?

FUTABA: i mean he’s always been nice to me

FUTABA: like even before he was on the team as crow

FUTABA: and then later after he like lost his shit and tried to kill us

FUTABA: he was also like weirdly nice

FUTABA: even if he was dressed as a tokusatsu villain

FUTABA: but

FUTABA: i

FUTABA: ok this is gonna sound really weird but like

FUTABA: you know how i said that the person to take me to the art show has to be someone that i know

YUSUKE: Yes.

FUTABA: even though akechi was one of the thieves at the end

FUTABA: i feel like i dont really know him

FUTABA: he like had that whole breakdown where he spilled all his kylo ren sadstuck junk and then he peeled his dumb ass up off the floor and then we beat up his dad in a dark alley

FUTABA: and then i guess akira likes him a bunch and hangs out with him and i guess probably talked to him about all that stuff that happened

FUTABA: and also i think ann talks to him

FUTABA: and also haru i think for some reason……………………..

FUTABA: but like i feel like. we as a group. never really uhhhhhhh

FUTABA: got to know him very well i guess

FUTABA: because he spent like the whole year being a fake ass bitch

FUTABA: and then by the time he wasnt, the thieves were busy literally fighting god, and it was all business business business

FUTABA: ughghfhg i guess this is just a really long way of saying that like yeah ok i guess i do know him but i dont think i really do

FUTABA: even when he was off the shits in the engine room it was like

FUTABA: somehow that was not……………………………….. really him

FUTABA: idk maybe this is just my Thoughts but like

FUTABA: idk some people are like “your true self is who you are at your worst” and

FUTABA: yeah maybe you are some PART of urself when youre at your worst but like

FUTABA: also not???

FUTABA: that can’t be it

FUTABA: that’s not ALL of you

FUTABA: so all i ever saw was him when he was being a fake ass barbie prince and then when he was like actively losing his shit

FUTABA: and both of those were like. two types of fake ass barbie prince

FUTABA: except obviously the one where he started screamin about murder and trying to kill joker was like, fake ass serial killer barbie prince

FUTABA: anyway i dont buy it for a second that seeing akechi at his worst means that i know the first thing about his “”“”“”“”“true self”“”“”“”“”“”“

FUTABA: like i know that i technically met him but also at the same time i dont think ive ever really actually met this dude

FUTABA: uh tldr what’s the truth crowboy

FUTABA: second tldr do you got anyone else i can go to the art show with because im not unpackin all that junk in the trunk while also trying to fend off a panic attack in the subway

YUSUKE: Well, to speak to "what’s the truth, crowboy,” I’d say he’s actually really funny.

FUTABA: WHAT

YUSUKE: Yes, actually.

FUTABA: YOU TRYNA TELL ME YOU SHARE A SENSE OF HUMOR W AKECHI

YUSUKE: As everyone knows, I don’t have a sense of humor.

YUSUKE: But if I did, that might not be inaccurate to say.

YUSUKE: Either way, we could ask Boss if he’ll take you to school.

FUTABA: no

FUTABA: im not makin him shut down leblanc for the day just cause i cant get my shit together

FUTABA: and i go to school by myself all the time now i dont need to be walked there by my dad like a four yr old

FUTABA: r u sure u dont have anyone else who can take me

YUSUKE: You said it had to be someone you know.

YUSUKE: I can take you.

YUSUKE: But I’ll be getting to Kosei early to prepare.

FUTABA: how early is early

YUSUKE: Four in the morning.

FUTABA: PLEASE INARI

YUSUKE: The people you know is a quite limited pool, Futaba.

FUTABA: shut the hell ur face i dont need u tellin me to make kosei friends too

FUTABA: i get my butt to school every day i’m already a hero

FUTABA: ok alright

FUTABA: crow-san it is

FUTABA: hhh

FUTABA: no shut up stop typing i’m fine

FUTABA: i already saw his dumb ass get inflicted with Horny from Yaldy God Himself i ain’t afraid of no crows

FUTABA: actually now that i remember that that was pretty funny mwehehehehehehe

FUTABA: OKAY send me the who what when where why

YUSUKE: There’s a PDF flier. I’ll send it to you.

YUSUKE: But I will have to type the email to send it to you.

FUTABA: oh my GOD inari

FUTABA: i swear to god ur not actually this dense and youre just pretending u dont know what an exaggeration is just to drive me up the wall

YUSUKE: Oh, that is a possibility, isn’t it?

FUTABA: WH

YUSUKE: Ah, last period is starting. I’ll have to talk to you later.

FUTABA: WHAT

FUTABA: NO WAIT

FUTABA: HELLO????

FUTABA: YUSUKE NO COME BACK

Tuesday, 2:53 PM

FUTABA: YUSUKE HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING AKECHI DO UR HW FOR U SO YOU CAN DO MORE ART??

FUTABA: IS THAT WHY UR ON A FIRST NAME BASIS W HIM

FUTABA: ANSWER ME STRINGBEAN

*

In Futaba’s opinion, there’s an infinite amount of more embarrassing reasons to pull yourself out of your depression pit than “I needed to yell at my friend for being a snotty bastard,“ and there’s worse escorts to have than the weird guy who went from being a professional murderer to their weird awkward friend. Firstly, if there’s anything that can motivate Futaba Sakura, it’s the primal urge to dunk on her friends for spite and memes. Secondly, there’s no chance in hell Futaba’s going to have a breakdown in front of Akechi.

She can do this. She got herself out of this grave once; she can do it again. Even if Akira isn’t here. She’s getting better. She promised him.

On the eighth day of her almost-return to hermithood, Akechi texts her:

AKECHI: I’m here.

AKECHI: Are you ready to go?

Futaba is wearing only an old shirt, no bra, sweats, and vaguely greasy hair from all the showers she’s skipped.

FUTABA: i’m SO ready

FUTABA: the readiest

FUTABA: ultra mega super ready

FUTABA: featherman ranger code name Ready

AKECHI: Oh.

AKECHI: Alright.

Hell yes alright. Time for Futaba to save her own life from her gravesite of a room.

With… Goro Akechi. Wow, life is weird, huh?

She drags on her Kosei uniform like a skin discarded long ago. It feels stiff. Maybe because it feels wrong to wear school clothes like a functioning human; maybe because she just hasn’t washed it in a week. The very idea of explaining herself to Sojiro stresses her out, so she doesn’t do it. The idea of not explaining herself to Sojiro, when he deserves an explanation and also would probably have a heart attack if he realized that she’d disappeared from her room without his knowing, also stresses her out, so she still doesn’t explain herself to Sojiro.

I told Akira I’m better now. I can do this. I did this for more than six months. I was out of my room in the real world, I went to the school festival, I changed my own heart…

She creeps down the stairs like a thief in her own house and pokes her head out the door. Goro Akechi is fiddling with his phone in the sun outside her house, looking like he, too, has only just managed to pull on his Human Suit and look like a guy who didn’t make shadows beg for mercy for fun, so it looks like this whole expedition is going to be a lot of fun.

"Futaba-chan?” says Akechi, only just noticing her lurking in her own doorway. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are you?”

Futaba opens her mouth. No noise comes out.

Akechi’s eyebrows slowly begin to knit together.

“I’m good,” she says squeakily. Clears her throat. Holy shit, she’s not afraid of Akechi after all that junk they went through in the Metaverse. She saw him as a rat. She saw him visibly want to break his father’s face when Shido tried to apologize to him on live TV. Once, Makoto and Akechi got into an unironic, passionate, hour-long argument about whether or not it’s beneficial to color code your notes.

“I’m alright!” Futaba announces louder, maybe a little loudly, considering the way he looks only more concerned. “L-Let’s hurry up and get this sidequest over with!”

She pulls her hoodie over her head and jams her hands into the pockets and makes herself as small as possible and inches out of the doorway. “If you… say so,” says Akechi, and eventually matches her incredibly slow pace as she shuffles her way towards the main street.

When the noise of Yongen-Jaya’s street hits her, her heart rate (already high as hell) spikes even higher like the first day she’d come out of her room, but the old coping mechanisms come back like second nature: Breathe slower, avoid eye contact, remember her mission, stick to the sides of the streets. Breathe slower. She’s still got it. It’s still hard, but she’s got a whole arsenal of ways to deal. She can do this. She will kick Yusuke’s ass for being a dick, if only out of sheer spite.

If Akira were here, I could hide behind him and…

No, shut up, shut up. All she has is her hoodie and Goro Akechi. Akira’s not here. She can do this by herself.

Akechi makes precisely two attempts at small talk (“How has Kosei been?” “Have you seen the pieces Yusuke submitted to the art show before?”) before he realizes that Futaba isn’t going to respond by virtue of barely holding onto her shit by her fingernails. He shuts up and sticks close by. Futaba makes her way down the streets towards the subway like walking on a tightrope. The subway station isn’t busy, but she puts every step in front of her like she’s going to fall. Getting on the subway might as well be a highwire. Futaba and Akechi wait for the train in mutual silence to the sound of other commuters murmuring amongst themselves, like a toothless echo of Mementos’s depths.

When they get on the train, people around her are quiet, thank god, but all of a sudden she’s convinced that she smells because she hasn’t taken a shower in literal days, and she tries to pack herself into her seat as tightly as possible. The guy in front of her is scrolling through something at a ferocious pace and his thumbnail keeps hitting the screen with this incessant clack, clack, clack noise. The subway voice announces their next station as the doors begin to close, and a girl suddenly sits bolt upright, having realized that this is her station after all, and bangs Futaba’s knees hard as she passes. Futaba wants to curl her legs to her chest, but she’s wearing Kosei’s uniform skirt and it’d just make everyone stare at her if she did that on the subway. She curls her fingers into the skirt hem. She stares down at her knees and lets her hair drape around her like a curtain. She can do this. She can do this. Breathe slower. Even slower. I did this for more than six months, I told Akira I’m better now, I changed my own heart…

Akechi pulls out his phone. Futaba’s phone buzzes.

AKECHI: Are you alright?

FUTABA: i said i was ready dude

Akechi types and retypes an answer, which technically Futaba could just look over his arm and read, but instead Futaba flips through apps on her phone and pulls up a shitty mobile dungeon crawler. She dies four times before Akechi puts his phone away without sending anything.

They pass multiple stations like that. Futaba sure as hell hopes that Akechi’s watching which station they’re on, because she isn’t. After the millionth time she dies, Futaba just closes the app altogether. Concentration’s shot. Can’t focus on anything. Heartbeat’s too loud. Breathing’s too loud. The guy next to her is breathing too loud. Everything is too loud.

New text:

AKECHI: Yusuke said you’d recovered from your cold, but you still look a little unwell.

Futaba doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t need Negative Nancy over here telling her she’s gonna crack. Because she isn’t gonna. The subway starts to slow, and the voice announces the station for Yusuke’s school. She’s literally almost there, she’s right there, she might die in three seconds because her heart is going to pound of her chest but at least she’s going to make it, she promised Akira that she was alright—

The subway doors open. Passengers stand to get off. Akechi stands up. Futaba drops like a rock.

“I can’t,” Futaba’s voice says. She sounds like she’s crying. “I can’t, I can’t do it, I—”

“Futaba—”

“I’m can’t do it, I—”

She buries her face in her knees on the dirty subway floor. Oh, she really is crying. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”

Around her, people’s feet stop moving. They’re staring at her. She’s crying on the subway and everyone is staring at her. “Shh,” says Akechi, like Futaba doesn’t know she’s being a loud and irritating pest, but then he takes off his winter coat and covers her with it. Suddenly everything goes dark. It’s a huge coat, too; it wraps around her whole torso with enough room to spare to cover her entire head. Inside, it’s like she’s back in her room, only listening to the sounds of real life somewhere on the other side of a computer monitor, where it can’t hurt her. It’s so surprising she hiccups to a stop. Two hands pull her up by the shoulders and guide her to stand. “Up. Let’s go.”

“Is she okay?” says a voice.

Futaba’s entire body seizes with fear. She ducks into her own knees, trying to disappear.

“Hey, little girl, are you alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” says Akechi’s friendly, super fake ass barbie prince voice. “My sister just had a hard day. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“A hard day?” Now the stranger’s voice is accusatory.

“For your information, our dog was recently brutally run over in front of her eyes.”

“Young man, are you serious right now?”

“Oh, yes. There was blood everywhere. Its intestines squelched horribly under the tires less than six feet away from her,” Akechi goes on. Futaba chokes, and then hiccups in what she realizes is almost a laugh. “Please excuse her. Thank you.” And before the literal complete stranger can follow up on that awful statement, Akechi takes her hand and pulls her up.

Futaba stumbles to her feet. If she has to take the coat off right now, she will actually die.

“It’s okay. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Blindly, she lets him lead her out of the subway, weaving through people with only minimal contact with other people’s shoulders. There’s a whole awkward period where Akechi has to walk her up the stairs out of the subway station while she can’t see anything, but eventually the noise and bustle of other people around her seems to die away, and the air grows cooler in the way it does in the shadows between city buildings. Then they stop walking altogether. When Akechi lets go of her hand, she almost tries to grab it back before she catches herself.

“Okay. There’s nobody else around, now. It’s safe.”

Futaba doesn’t come out of the jacket. In the dark, her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see even as she blinds herself.

“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly like that,” Akechi’s voice goes on after it becomes obvious she’s not going to come out.

Futaba wipes snottily at her own face. Oh, this is so gross, she’s got snot and tears on top of five days worth of grime and body juice because she hadn’t taken a shower. She’s disgusting. She really actually wants to die right now. She can’t show her face like this.

“Er,” says Akechi. “Do you want…. water, or…?”

Futaba folds up right there on the city pavement, probably dragging Akechi’s nice coat all over a dirty alleyway. She tucks her face into her knees, where she feels safest, and pulls the coat flaps even tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry for not being okay,” she mumbles.

There’s a short silence. “You really don’t have to be.”

“I do,” Futaba says. She feels like she’s nine years old again, a petulant kid who needs to hold people’s hands and be escorted around Tokyo. “This is—it’s stupid, and I can’t believe I-I’m still doing this, a-and even a-after everything that h-happened last year, I’m still just a… I’m still…”

“It’s fine,” says Akechi. Even he sounds overwhelmed, and at the first sound of weakness, she pulls the coat off her head and glares at him furiously, red-faced and covered in tears and snot and gross depression juice crust and all.

“I’m not supposed to be this way anymore!” she says miserably. “I’m supposed to be better! Moved on! Doing literally a-anything else but crying over t-taking a subway! It’s stupid and nobody else is like this and I just want to be over this already and I just want to be better already and—!“

She covers her face with her hands again. God, even when she says that, it sounds pathetic.

After a moment or two, she hears Akechi moving again. She peeks at him. He’s crouching in almost the exact same pose as her, looking like he’s resigning himself to neither getting his coat back, nor moving from this spot any time soon, nor getting to Yusuke’s art show on time, but also looking archly and entirely unperturbed about it. Actually, it looks like he’s writing a work email on his phone.

Futaba was right about being in an alleyway, but it’s so cold because they’re shielded by a trio of vending machines selling canned coffee and wrapped sandwiches. "Our dog was recently run over?” she says.

“People can mind their own damn business,” says Akechi in his Pleasant Boy Voice, without looking up from his email.

“He was just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, let’s help the crying girl by crowding her and suffocating her in a crush of public transit.”

Futaba snorts. “That was really mean of you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Akechi.

Futaba sucks a truly disgusting gob of snot into her nose. “Ugh. I wish I could’ve seen the guy’s face when you told him that.”

“It was like I’d spat on his shoes. I should’ve kept going. Or had a camera.”

“Futaba giggles wetly into her forearms. "Like one of those—those prank videos online… Get Yusuke to film it.”

“Yusuke, as the cameraman? I’m not trying to make a documentary.” Akechi flips to a different screen on his phone. “I already texted Yusuke about our poor dead dog, by the way, so don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly Futaba feels like literal garbage again. “Why are you always so nice to me?” she mumbles.

Akechi makes a weird face, like he’s trying to do his old Pleasant Boy shtick while having swallowed a lemon whole. “You say that like me being nice is somehow unusual.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it is. You literally were just being a huge asshole to a guy you’d never met over a fictional dog.”

Akechi has this increasingly disgruntled look on his face like he kind of wants to punt Futaba down some stairs, which, frankly, is the best sort of reward, in Futaba’s opinion. “I’m working on it,” he says grumpily.

“How’s that been?” says Futaba.

“Which part?”

Futaba has one whole moment of self reflection on this idea as maybe not a good course of action before she barrels on anyway: “The part where you’re turning your life around. Starting over. Trying again.”

“It sucks dick,” says Akechi.

“Oh, right on,” says Futaba, and then before she can stop herself: “Wait, I thought you liked dick?”

Akechi makes a noise like a strangled cat.

Futaba cackles. “Dude, incognito mode when you’re browsing for porn does not save you from people like me.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, yes? Obviously?”

“You know you could get arrested for that sort of breach in privacy.”

“Oh, boo hoo, so sorry I know all about your weird orphan-saving night job and your smutty Featherman doujinshi collection. You’re not gonna narc on me.” Futaba stops. “Are you?”

“Stop looking at my internet history.”

“No. You better not narc on me.”

“Then stop looking at my internet history.”

“You had to google how to change a SIM card last week, crow-boy; you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I will narc on you.”

“No you won’t. You’re the one trying to not be an asshole.”

Akechi makes a face like a cat being slowly submerged in cold water. Futaba laughs in his face.

“If you’re quite done,” says Akechi grouchily.

“No, never. You’re made for being made fun of,” says Futaba. “I’m gonna be making fun of you for years and years, crow-boy; you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Great.”

“Gonna be creeping on your weird orphan-saving night job until the day you die.”

“Wonderful,” says Akechi without inflection whatsoever.

“Mwehehehehehehehehehe.”

“If you’re quite done.”

“I will take a well-deserved break from my endless duty to troll you both on and offline,” says Futaba. “Because I really really really wanna go to the art show.”

Akechi has the nerve to look relieved that he no longer has to squat in a dirty alleyway listening to a high school freshman bully him. “Then let’s go.”

Futaba hugs her knees tight. “But I wanna keep your coat.”

“Aren’t you wearing your own coat?” says Akechi, trying to look like he isn’t shivering. “Aren’t you getting hot?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“It’s my coat.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then. Keep it. It’s dry clean only.”

“Oh, ew. No, take it back, gross, gross,” and Futaba peels the snotty, tear-stained, dirty winter coat off and dumps it back in Akechi’s arms, who looks at it with the expression of someone long-suffering and without hope of escape.

“And,” says Futaba, “I wanna see it if you tell anyone else that our dog got run over.”

Akechi smirks. “You’ll have to film it, then.”

“Oh my god, like I wouldn’t.”

Futaba scrubs her face one last time. She still feels like she’s covered in a grimy layer of slime, but maybe she can wash her face at Kosei. When she gets there. Because she’s gonna get there.

“Uh, one more thing,” says Futaba.

“Not like you’ve bullied me into doing literally everything else you’ve wanted,” says Akechi.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

“Good thing I don’t have a sense of humor,” says Akechi, which horrifyingly confirms to Futaba that Akechi and Yusuke, of all people, really do share a sense of humor.

Futaba hesitates. “Please, um… please don’t tell Akira about this.”

“Why would I tell Akira?“

"Nice. Good answer.” She smooths her hair down, trying to make herself presentable, or just have something to do with her hands. “I… told him I was gonna be okay without him and all that, so… I don’t wanna let him down, you know?”

Slowly, almost shyly, Akechi smiles. “Oh, yes. I know.”

“Our secret. Secret-keepers.”

“Secret-keepers. Are you ready?”

Futaba takes another deep breath. Pushes herself up, brushes herself off, and sighs. “Absolutely not. This is gonna suck so much dick,” says Futaba. “Let’s go anyway.”

[thevikingwoman]

AU-gust 2020 - Prompt 1: Coffee Shop AU*

*Joker pick, instead of Fantasy AU

I love AUs, so I will fill some of the prompts for the @augustwritingchallenge​. Most of these will be short stories in my typical style. 

AU-gust masterpost.

I decided with a joker pick for day one, as Fantasy is not much of an AU for Dragon Age. I’ve never done a proper coffee shop AU, and I don’t know if this isn’t more of a pastry AU, but here it is. 

Fandom: Dragon Age Words: 862

Solas x Iwyn Lavellan | Coffee shop AU | romance Rating: Teen (low T). Flirting, cuteness, pre-relationship, kissing, pastries.

“Tall mocha and a brownie for – Iwyn.” The barista’s voice is deep and warm, and he’s new. She would have noticed him if she’d seen him before. He has sharp cheekbones, a defined chin, and blue eyes. And he’s bald, which somehow accentuates all his features into something intense.

“Thanks,” she says, and grab her items.

“You should try to brownie from the bakery across the street. The ones here are just thawed from the factory.”

“I don’t think you should be telling me, but thanks.”

Iwyn wonders how long he will last here. He looks too old to work here, or not old enough. He looks like someone who would work at a hipster place downtown, one that roasts their own beans, not a chain like this.

The barista shrugs, and smiles, and it’s a nice smile.

She can’t help smiling back.

-

He doesn’t get fired, he’s there every morning when she stops by on her way to work. Solas works every weekday, except Friday, and in very short time he has her drink started as soon as she walks through the door. She sometimes picks up a treat for her afternoon break, and he keeps suggesting pastries from the bakery. She has to admit he is probably right, but they don’t serve coffee, and she doesn’t have time to stop by two places on her way to work.

They also talk about other things, and she learns that Solas is both opinionated and curious, and that he has very nice hands to go with his vey nice eyes and his very nice smile.

-

Iwyn is just finishing up and sending an email she had no desire to write, when she notices the unread email in her inbox.

FRONT DESK: Your visitor has checked in and is waiting you.

Visitor: Solas Wolfe

Here to see: Iwyn Lavellan

Check-in time: 15:07

~

Regards, reception at Millenium Park A

Solas? What is he doing here? Maybe she left something in the coffeeshop this morning? She has talked about her work, so it’s not surprise he knows to find her here. She can’t imagine what she could have forgotten that can’t wait until tomorrow. Her house has a keypad, she can’t even loose her keys.

She looks at her watch. 15:15. He might have left, and handed her stuff to Lace, the receptionist. Iwyn hurries to the stairs, she hopes he has stuck around. She enjoys seeing him in the morning, and the thought of seeing him again today makes her smile. Her heart beats a little faster.

He is still there when she comes down, and she nods at Lace, then turns to Solas.

“Hi Iwyn,” he says.

“Hi.”

“I thought it was a shame you never got to taste anything from Hill’s. The local bakery. I went to pick something up after my shift, and decided to bring you something too. I won’t take much of your time, I do know you are busy.”

Solas holds out a small bag, and she takes it with a thank you. Inside the bag are two tiny tarts, a lemon with a bit of meringue on top, and a raspberry one decorated with fresh berries and chocolate. They look delicious.

“They do look good,” she says. “I – you didn’t have to. Thank you, Solas.” No one has ever thought to bring her treats, just because. She’s used to doing things on her own. “I appreciate it, a lot,” she adds.

Solas shakes his head, and smiles.

“It was not any trouble.”

She doesn’t want to say goodbye, and she already thanked him, and Lace is scrambling with some papers behind her, and suddenly it’s awkward and too long time has passed. Solas is blushing a little, and fuck it, she really hopes she hasn’t misread him.

Iwyn steps forward and kisses him on the cheek.

He stiffens, and she panics, about to apologize, when he lets out a quiet sigh. He pulls her close, and kisses her on the mouth, hard and then softer. She kisses him back, and his lips are as wonderful as she imagined, and she opens her mouth easily, seeking more of him as he seeks her. His long body presses into her, hard and hot.

They’re interrupted by a low whistle from Lace, and they pull back, both of them out of breath. Solas is so close and she wants to kiss him again, and bite his lips.

“I have to go back to work,” she says.  

“I understand,” he says. “I apologize, that was very rash of me. I –”

“Maybe we can meet on Saturday, and share some cakes from that bakery, and talk?”

“I’d like that,” Solas says. “I’d like that very much.”

They exchange phone numbers, and say their goodbyes. Iwyn wonders what kind of person kisses someone before they even know each other’s contact information, but she decides not to dwell on it.

She walks Solas out of the lobby, and when she returns, Lace has raised her eyebrows, her freckled face full of smiles and questions. She’ll have to share the cakes, she supposes, though Lace is not someone to spread gossip.