#which is really fucked up and i acknowledge that but nothing really ever fills the massive pit of loneliness

[freshwaterecosystemenjoyer]

wuh woh bed time, wondering if my friends still like me as a person or if they miss the niche i fulfilled in their lives by playing video games with them and if im inheritly worthless now that i dont interact with them as often

[natailiatulls07]

your charles x sister! reader fics are so cute! i love them so so so so so so much!! i was wondering if you could write one where charles and his teen! sister get in an argument (mostly his fault) and she’s ignoring him and he has to leave for a race before he can apologise and she still supports him but won’t talk to him and him making it up to her eventually pretty please! i love your work so much !!!

Charles Leclerc x Sister!reader

Summary - The request above :3

Warnings - Arguing and swearing

A/n - Thank you lovie! I feel like I haven't done Leclerc Sister fic in a long while so it's great to be back <3

Masterlist

-

Usually the week before a triple header, Charles likes to spend his free time around family. He feels like it gives him that chance to relax and get back into the right mindset. During this time the family would play board games, catch up on favourite tv shows and catch up on life. 

Charles loves this time. With his formula one schedule and Arthur's schedule, it’s not often that the two brothers can hang out with their older brother and younger sister. They all come together to spend this time as they did before he and Arthur started karting.

However this week something was off. Everyone in the family could see how indifferent Charles was acting. It wasn’t like no one knew why, it was pretty clear why he was acting like this. 

From the start of the season, Ferrari wasn’t having a good time. At least once every race, something went wrong. And Charles was getting the shorter end of the stick, he felt like he was getting totally screwed off in every possible way.

He really tried to not let it affect him but this was his career, without this he’d be nothing. So naturally this was going to crush his self-esteem, his confidence and his calmed headspace.

-

'Charles?' Y/n’s voice broke through the quietness of his stream, everyone watching could see how tense Charles was. The chat, which was going unnoticed by the pair, was speeding down the screen with fans welcoming the younger one of the two. 

username my fav leclerc!! username Y/n I love you username hi Y/nnn username the best leclerc is here yayyy

He stayed silent, barely acknowledging Y/n. 'Charles? Maman made dinner, she told me to come get you' Everyone could see how Charles just rolled his eyes and how he grumbled when she wouldn’t leave. 

There was a beat of silence, the only noise filling the room was the occasional sound coming from his game. 'Charles?' Y/n asked again, confused as to why he wasn't replying.

And then, finally he spoke up. 'God Y/n, can you not see?! I’m busy, fuck off!' It wasn’t often that Y/n saw Charles in this light; heck this was the first time his fans were seeing him in this light. It was as if he had forgotten about all of them having front row seats to his interaction with Y/n.

They could all see the annoyance on Y/n’s face, she wasn’t going to back down just because of one fuck off thrown her way. 'What’s up with you?' She snapped back, her mother raised her not to take shit from anyone - Espercially not her brothers. 'Whatever it is, don’t take it out on me cause I did fuck all to piss you off'

Even after her argument, Charles still couldn’t back down. Funnily enough they have the same mother, so this meant they were taught the same exact thing. He wasn’t going to take shit from her either. 'Do you ever consider that maybe, just maybe, that you are the problem? I come home in the middle of an exhausting season, only for you to come and annoy me just like a fucking child.' He pauses the game and turns in his seat, completely forgetting again that he’s on stream. 'Grow the fuck up.'

The chat is practically flying by now, all the comments shouting at Charles for being so rude.

username what the fuck Charles! username better than any reality tv omfg username don't be rude to my fav leclerc like thattt username this isn't Charles, what is going on???

Y/n bursts into a sarcastic laughter, only infuriating her older brother more. 'Haha you’re so fucking funny! Even you, after being the one who helped me come out of your shadow, can make me feel so shit..'

The way she spat out her words scared Charles, he knew he fucked up. Everyone watching the stream could see how his face paled and how, with a deep frown and tears clouding her eyes, Y/n walked out of the room angerily before vigorously slamming the door.

Chat could see a grimace on his face as Charles' face fell in his hands. A deep sigh could be heard through the mic and then the stream turned black. It ended - Understandable.

-

The days following was icy cold in the Leclerc family, everyone but Y/n had been walking on eggshells. Charles felt like shit, he knew about the shadow behind himself and how it really effected the people around him (Espercially his siblings).

He knew he had to leave for the triple header soon but the thing is he has never left on a bad foot with any of his family and espercially for a long time. His anxiety was riding high.

The evening before his flight to spain, he was sat on the sofa at his childhood home with his mother and Alexandra. 'Fuck..I messed up' Infront of him, Leo was rolling around on the carpet.

Pascale just sighed, she was silently agreeing with her son because she had seen first hand the effects of fame had on Lorenzo, Arthur and Y/n. However on the other hand, she knew that it was harder for him - She just wished he handled the argument better.

'Where is she now?' Alexandras soft voice spoke up, her hand relaxing on top of her partners.

Looking over to the clock, the older women answered. 'Her friends place, I think her friendship group are having a little party you know..' That'd explain the almost eerie silence through the house. 'She'll come around, this won't last long.' A chuckle left the older womens lips. 'Never does..'

If only she knew, Pascale would be eating her words.

-

The next couple of weeks were long and hard for Charles. It seemed like everything had been going incredibly wrong for the guy. Almost every race he was finishing outside of points, the days were long and every time he'd message his little sister, he wouldn't get a reply.

You see Y/n was active on social media and Charles could see this, he could see how she was continuing to attend to her usual activities. Going to her University lectures, doing her little side influencer job and hanging out with friends.

He had heard from both his older brother and his mother how they could tell how the argument effected the youngest Leclerc. Much like Charles, this space between them was hard. Yet, she'd watch the races for him and support him. That being some sort of reassurance for Charles.

Luckily for him, he had some time between the end of the triple header at Silverstone and the next race in Hungary so the evening after the race he was on a flight back to Nice.

It didn't take long for Charles and Alexandra to arrive back to Monaco, popping to his childhood home once again. Walking in they could tell that immediately that Pascale wasn't home but then again someone was home, which only meant one person was here.

Placing her bag down on the kitchen counter, Alexandra made her way over to the stairs. 'Y/n are you home?' There was several patters of footsteps above the couple as she made her way to the living room where Charles was sat anxiously waiting. His knee was continuously bouncing up and down before Alexandra's soft hand came rest just over his kneecap. 'You'll be fine..' She whispered gently.

It didn't take long for his baby sister to reveal herself, dressed in her work out gear. Y/n tried her best to hide her anxiety and hesitation, much like her brother she hated the past weeks. 'Salut..' (Hi) She breathed out.

Charles' eye lit up when he saw her, a small smile on his face. 'Hé, où est maman?' (Hey, where's mum?) It was safe to say that small talk wasn't going to be the best thing right now but they both knew it'd help.

He watched her as she moved to sit on the opposite sofa in her usual seat. 'Elle déjeune avec une amie…Marie' (She is having lunch with a friend…Marie) Both the Ferrari driver and his girlfirnd nodded slowly and understandingly.

There was a few seconds of a surprisingly comfortable silence, no one knowing what to say until Charles felt Alexandra sharply nudge him. Looking at her in shock, she quietly urged him to apologize. 'Look I'm sorry princesse..'

Almost giving herself whip lash, Y/n looked up from she was nervously checking her nails. And then there was a moment of quiet again, she didn't know what to say. Part of wanted to be cheeky and the other wanted to be sentimental. Suddenly her lips screwed into a small smirk, and Charles would be lying if it didn't scare him.

'You know it was pretty shitty what you did.' She let out a laugh and the pair followed in suit, Charles nodding knowingly. 'But you're my big brother, you're pretty shitty in general..' He was glad she was joking about, and he allowed her joke about him.

A smile had taken its shape on his face. 'Yeah I know, forgive me?' He asked, needing to satify that last bit of anxiety in him. To which he got a quick nod in return and immediately he was up, pulling her in a long over due hug.

At first it was sweet but immediately ruined when Charles heard Y/n mumble. 'Make me a dedicated instagram post and then I'll forgive you properly..' He just sighed knowingly as a laugh escaped Alexandras lips. Of course he was being blackmailed.

'Fine.' A grumble left his lips. 'You're lucky..'

-

1.6k

[myspacebrat]

˗ˏˋ𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ˎˊ˗

bar-back e.m. x fem reader

blurb request: barback!eddie who let’s you try his newest concoctions on the house🤭 by @bcyhoods

authors note: thank you for participating in my little celebration and sending in your request(s), love. This was such a fun one to write and totally got away from me. Anyway, hope you like! <3

✷ ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+

A fog of smoke greets you as you walk through the double doors of the hideout, some run down dive bar in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, surrounded by cows and cornfields. You can’t help but grimace as each step you take is met with sticky resistance under the soles of your brand new loafers.

You take a seat at the bar, running your fingers over the skirt of your dress while you wait for the bartender to notice you and while you do, you take in every inch of him; in his black leather jacket, long brown waves and rings galore. He’s not like anything you’d ever seen outside of an MTV music video.

You’d spent your whole life around preppy assholes who thought polos and boat shoes were cool. They’d never be caught dead in that bad boy attire or much less in a sketchy place like this. That thought made your heart race with excitement, you set your sights on him and prayed your sweet charm and flirty banter would work in your favor.

“Uh, what can I get ya, sweetheart?” The smoothness of his voice instantly makes you want to clench your thighs, but you decide against it as your eyes meet his.

“Mmm, got anything sweet?” You ask with a flirty smile, you don’t want to lay it on thick too soon, just little by little for now.

“Sure, I can whip somethin’ up for you.” He says proudly, bending down to grab a whisky glass and a bottle of some fruity liquor. “Sorry, we don’t have anythin’ more fancy, we really only get beer and whisky orders here, if you can believe it.” He says sarcastically as he looks around the smoke filled bar, met with older working men and bikers who were, to no surprise holding an aforementioned beer or whisky.

“It’s fine.” You say, waving off his apology with a small swat to the smoky air. “So… aren’t you a little young to be bartending?” You ask curiously, also as an attempt to keep the conversation flowing.

“Ah, well you’d be right. I’m not quite a bartender yet, more of a bartenders assistant if you will. But…” he looks around with dramatic flare, making you giggle. “She’s not around at the moment, so looks like you’re stuck with me, princess.” The pet name sends a thrilling swoop straight to your stomach.

“Maybe I wanna be stuck with you.” The words are out of your mouth before you have a chance to fully process them and you immediately want nothing more than to swallow them back down. Your face heats up with humiliation when he raises an eyebrow that gets lost somewhere underneath his shaggy bangs.

He doesn’t even acknowledge your little slip up, instead he shakes his head as a smirk forms on his pretty lips, all the while pouring some red liquor and pineapple juice concoction into your glass. You both let the awkward silence flow around you, although the bar is anything but silent.

“So, tell me what ya’ think?” He beams, scooting the half filled glass closer towards you. The silver of his rings glint off of the yellow lighting and you can’t help but want to do some very shameful things to those fingers while he’s wearing those rings.

After the third concoction of his amazing fruity cocktails, you begin feeling that familiar burn in your chest. You’re nowhere near drunk just feeling loose, which was never good for the people around you.

“So, why haven’t I ever seen you around?” The metalhead asks as he takes a seat next to you at the bar, the bartender had since come back and told him he was off the hook for the rest of the night.

“Well, I was on my way to Loch Nora to visit family…but, well I got a flat and pulled into the parking lot and thought why the hell not? I could use a drink before I go see my uptight aunt and asshole cousin.” You ramble, before stopping yourself with another sip of your coconut cocktail.

“Uptight and asshole seems to be the theme in this shit town.” Eddie chuckles as he watches you between sips of his cheap beer.

“Uptight and asshole also seems to be the theme in my family.” You quip back with a small smile.

“Well I don’t know about uptight but asshole is definitely the theme in mine.” He smirks as he playfully pushes into you with his leather clad shoulder.

“Yeah, well you haven’t met assholes until you met the Harringtons.” You say back with a playful push of your own.

“Harrington? As in S-Steve Harrington?” He stammers, turning towards you in his bar stool as his eyes bore into yours, awaiting your answer.

“Oh, so you’re acquainted with king asshole?” A smile radiates across your face that makes Eddie noticeably gulp.

“Y-yeah, I guess you could say that. But, yeesh I think you might have me beat, sweetheart.” His laugh is boisterous and loud over whatever metal song is playing through the old speakers.

“Tell ya what, how bout I call you a tow truck and cab…and uh, these drinks are on the house since you were nice enough to be my taste tester.” The look on his face tells you he’s anything but ready to see you go. So of course, in your loose as a goose but extremely coherent state, you say something you never would’ve just an hour ago.

“Well, since you gave me something to taste, it’s only right if I do the same, no?” You throw in a flirty wink in a desperate plea to stick the landing of your intended innuendo.

What you didn’t realize was that he was in the midst of taking a sip of his beer and once those words slipped past your lips he immediately went into a violent coughing attack, his eyes wide as if in complete and utter disbelief while you swat at his back, trying to help him catch his breath.

Once his coughing died down, his eyes met yours again and the apples of cheeks bloomed a pretty pink, embarrassment clearly overtaking him.

“W-were you serious?” He asks, as if he was contemplating your proposal and that had the thrilling swoop vehemently returning to your stomach but now it traveled down towards your core as you clenched around nothing.

“Very.” Is all you say, but your eyebrow lifts in question before you begin to stand from your barstool.

Your hips sway seductively as you make your way to the dingy bathrooms, a smile overtaking your futures when you hear sneakers squeak behind you. You push the door open and are immediately met with graffiti riddled walls; it’s filthy, disgusting and so fucking thrilling!

You hear the door shut and lock behind you, and when you slowly turn you’re met with those warm brown eyes that you’ve been fawning over all night.

You don’t say another word, instead you take a few calculated steps over towards him before pushing him up against the graffitied door and smashing your lips into his, in an intense and desperate kiss. He moans into your mouth when your tongue sloppily glides against his, the kiss is all consuming and has you weak in the knees.

His lips pull away and you chase them with a whimper that has him smirking down at you with a cock sure grin.

“Up on the counter, princess. I want that taste you promised me.”

✷ LIKES, COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SO APPRECIATED, LIKE YOU’D SERIOUSLY MAKE MY DAY (:

[swanscript]

in which you're aegon's legally-wedded and never-bedded wife - who cares so little for him that even he's noticed.

It is the hour of the bat, deep into the velvety night, and you'd had it all planned out. Your sheets are fresh. You've bathed in lavender scented water, and spent half the day drying your hair carefully by the fireside so it won't become ruffled. You've just slipped on a rose-coloured robe of the finest Dornish silk, and wriggled delightedly into bed when it happens.

The door to your bedchambers explodes open, and Aegon staggers in, roaring a drunken sea shanty.

Oh, how you hate men.

"So hey, the bonny sailors go

To Sothoryos with a rising 'ho'!"

"Aegon," you start, pushing yourself up on your pillows with the air of someone explaining something to a very stupid child. "It's late. I'm tired."

Aegon stops dead when he sees you, sitting prettily in his bed with your arms folded in bemusement. You don't think he expected to see you here. You often sleep in a different room, and when sharing his bedchambers you make it a point to keep him firmly on the other side of the mattress.

Aegon and you both know the castle staff whispers rumours of your strange and sex-less relationship. You don't care.

Aegon might, but you've decided not to care about him either. He's aware of your cold indifference - which is why he's so surprised to see you here.

"....well," he says, swaying where he stands. "If it isn't...my frigid lady-wife. Here to ice me out again?"

You don't rise to the bait. "I'm here to sleep. You're welcome to do the same."

"Oh, I'm welcome, am I? Welcome in my own bed?" Aegon hiccoughs, slowly undoing the clasps on his velvet jerkin. He lets it thud to the floor (you can bet a hundred gold dragons he'll trip over it first thing tomorrow) and begins to traipse your way. "Am I permitted to finally lay a finger on my lawful wife, or will she only let me hold her hand for appearance's sake at banquets?"

Hackles rising, you bite back at once. "Am I permitted to have a husband who doesn't fuck a different whore every night? Who doesn't reek of of alcohol? Am I permitted to not be abandoned each day for taverns and brothels? Am I permitted to sleep or must I take your leave for that too, lord-husband?"

If Aegon were sober, he might have a scalding remark in response. But the ale has filled his mind with mush, and all he can do is scowl and sulk. It doesn't please you to see him so miserable. Your heart isn't in the fight either.

Your husband thuds onto the bed with a heavy sigh, narrowly missing squashing you.

"...help me with the clasp then, if nothing else," he mutters, pointing at his bejeweled belt buckle.

Sighing, you concede, reaching forward and undoing the cool metal. It clicks apart under your deft hand, and you steal a glance up at your supposed husband.

Months of marriage, and the times when you've ever really looked at him are few and far in between. After a disasterous bedding ceremony and so many days of neglect, the two of you have learnt to not acknowledge each other's presence. As a result, Aegon's face never fails to stand out as unique to you.

Soft cloud of wispy silver hair. Eyes of pale amethyst. The classic Targaryen look - striking colour palette, ghostly shades of old Valayria. The hint of feminine features from his mother softens him. He looks lost now, his pouty mouth softly sagging with defeat. A little verbal joust with you has leeched all the revelry out of him. Right, now, soundly beaten as he is, Aegon is difficult to despise.

You tug the belt out of its loops and he mutters his slurred gratitudes.

"Can you do the rest on your own?"

He grunts in affirmative. You retreat back to your side. Both of you feel the invisible wall being drawn up between once more.

You know, when you really think about it, you suppose Aegon is a handsome man. When he's not drunk. Or bothering you just before you sleep with sappy, obnoxious questions.

"Do you love me?"

You stop in the middle of adjusting your coverlet. "What?"

Aegon is looking at you with not a hint of a joke in his eyes. He repeats the impossible possibility. "Do you love me?"

In daylight, you would have sneered at his question and swept off in a swirl of silk skirts to resume your royal day. Now, with moonshine softening the need for sharp exteriors, you decide to humour his question. No one is around to use your words against you, at least. You feel your guard lift an inch.

"Love you?" you ponder, leaning back against your richly embroidered pillows. "...I think I would be...distressed, if you died. But love you- I don't even like you." You glance his way, contemplating. "Yet."

Aegon looks at you with doubtful lilac eyes. "So there's hope?"

"Don't be too optimistic."

His face, already miserable with the weight of alcohol and fractured familial relationships, turns slightly more sour. You're not foolish. Aegon's agonies don't have much to do with you. His mother, hell-bent on making him king, and his brother, hell-bent on undermining and embarrassing him at every opportunity are his chief worries. You've never seeked to hurt him politically. But you've always remained distant, watching him carefully like a narrow-eyed cat and hissing if he gets too close. There's only so much your pride can allow after being man-handled into a strategic marriage so roughly.

But right now, weak and addled as he is, you can afford some kindness.

"Don't look so down, Aegon," you say softly. "Perhaps I'm Dorne. Eternally un-won by Targaryens."

The gentleness works - Aegon unticks like a clam and lets words come pouring out.

"I keep thinking... really feeling as though you would prefer my brother Aemond over me. Or that he would like you, at the very least. And that grasping bastard, Jacaerys." A flash of anger splits Aegon's face. "I see how he moons over you across the dinner table. Like he'd like you lay you out on his dinner plate and take bites out your skin. Take what's mine. My wife, by law if not by her own will. Mine. My skin. My soft, soft skin. I should kill him. Cunt."

Weak, you think, watching his messy torrent of emotions. Your father would have flayed you living for such risky honesty in a world so tightly controlled by reputation. Always say less than necessary. Never trust anyone, ever.

As it is, you carefully file this new information away in your head. Aemond desiring you in a marriage seems in line with his ambitious nature - your family's legendary wealth would serve him well. You doubt he cares for you as a person.

And Jacaerys.... you've seen him ogling at you a couple of times when you're really dressed to the nines, but you doubt it's anything worth thinking about. Men have always watched you in that hungry way. You have genetics to thank for that, nothing more. It doesn't aid you, ultimately.

Aegon is still muttering away darkly. "I should kill him. Cut off his riding chains so he goes screaming into the sea the next time he mounts his dragon. I think that'll fix him-"

"Don't think," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You're not particularly excellent at it, from what I've heard. I heard you thought Sir Arryk was a particularly buxom woman from behind."

Aegon sniffs. "An engraved band in his hair. What was he prettying up for, the flagstones in the corridors? I don't fancy a preening peacock guarding me."

"See, Aegon, you're lying again. And it's unneeded and strange. You were only drunk and made a wine-swayed misjudgement," you say wearily. "And you don't think he's a peacock. You think you're a peacock. You've been matching your socks with your shoes since the day I knew you."

Aegon laughs, soft and bitter.

"If you know me so well, why do you pretend your dislike is only from distance? ...you hate me because you know me. You've always...always hated me."

In sulking speech, Aegon has slowly tipped in your direction, his head inches from yours. He's too drunk and too non-commital to rearrange himself. You allow his hair to touch your silk sleeve. Pink fabric, his ash white hair fanning across it.

Then, without even really thinking or caring, you sigh and pull him onto your chest to hold him there like a babe.

"I've already said, I don't hate you."

Aegon is too drunk to jab or pull back. He lays there. You run fingers through his hair, smoothening the scattered strands into place, sorting his thoughts into neat furrows. Sleepy tears spread a wet spot onto your robe. You allow it, even through fuzzled bafflement at such weakness. What does he want, to suck on your teat? He's older than you, yet you're centuries harder. Aegon - too soft a boy for his over-reaching mother - falls asleep in barely sated turmoil, on your chest like a barely grown child.

You allow it.

[slutt4ellie]

Hearts Over Hierarchy

Loser!Ellie x Popular!Reader

masterslist

PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Do opposites really attract?

Summery : When you run into a girl who rarely makes acknowledgment she even exists, there’s something that undoubtedly draws you to her..and a spark is created.

Warnings -> / Weed usage / Reader is confused about her feelings? / Ellie’s also confused about her feelings (ig?) / Just full loser Ellie / Really brief Skater!Ellie / eventual smut (probably) / fluff / tension / Little bits of smau / Toxic friendship / (Lmk if I missed anything else!)

WC: 4.8k (longest fic i’ve ever wrote!)

(Not proofread!)

DAILY CLICK 🇵🇸 - (takes like 2 seconds 🩷)

(Ellie)

The loud buzzing of Ellie’s alarm shoots her eyes open and her body halfway up. “F-fuck” She grumbles under her muffled voice. Running her right hand down her face.

Ellie grabs the alarm rested on her left bedside table and she’s finally met with the time 9:36am. “Oh fuck” Ellie says quickly stands up out of her single bed, planted in the corner of her single bedroom dorm. Classes start at 9:45. She has a total of 9 minutes to get dressed, leave her dorm, and run onto campus. Which has her leading to the fact there’s almost 0 fucking way she’s making it on time.

Since Ellie’s already up and out of her bed she runs to her dresser to throw on a pair of boxers and a sports bra which is almost instantly covered by “clean” sweat pants and a nike hoodie. It didn’t smell bad so it was fine!

4 minutes, it only took Ellie 4 minutes to get changed and grabbed her skateboard. She also glances over at the time as it now reads now reads 9:40. So this means her time isn’t “horrible” I mean getting ready in 4 minutes is sorta impressive, at least in her mind? Plus campus shouldn’t take that long, as long as she’s fast.

Ellie grabs her skateboard and leaves her dorm quickly running down the stairs, having basically 0 time to wait around and sit there like a duck for the elevator. And as soon as she’s met with concrete she’s off.

The reason why Ellie being late is such a fucking hassle is because she’s already been late a fair share of times building a reputation for it, when she walks into class and shit it doesn’t go without dirty looks. But it’s a new school year, so she’s tryna live by the corny ass saying “new year new me!” and actually not miss half the classes like last term.

(You)

You’re up early, 8:00 to be exact. You quietly leave your bedroom trying not to wake up the rest of your sorority sisters as you tiptoe through the halls. And just as you thought you were clear, a pair of blue eyes are met with yours.

Emily your best friend since freshman year. You two were like glue through high school, nothing could separate the two of you, sure you had fights and disagreements but nothing seemed like it could break the bond between you two..

As you meet her blue eyes you quickly notice her lips turning into a light smirk. “Why the fuck are you tiptoeing like we’re in a fucking Tom and Jerry episode?” You let out a pity laugh and smile “Oh ha ha…! Maybe because i’m nice and I didn’t wanna wake up all you guys?”

Emily smiles right back at you. “Why are you up so fucking early, thought your class started at 9:45?” You nod your head agreeing with her statement. “It does. I just wanted to be on top of it you know!” Emily shakes her head. “No I don’t fucking know? I don’t wake up a full hour and 45 minutes before my classes.”

You smile, you could ask her why she’s up but you already know her class starts at 8:30 (ew.) so going through more questions seems unethical. “Well!” You trail off then pick back up where you ended. “I need to have a shower sooo” Emily nods and goes back to her room “Yeah yeah!”

꧁✵★✵꧂

The steam fills your bathroom and the air is still warm from your lingering shower.

It was weird today. You don’t usually feel nervous for school, I mean you knew people, people knew you. There was literally nothing for you to feel even the slightest bit of tenseness. Yet it was still just there.?

Your just blaming it on basic nerves, you’re not really “excited” to get back into the grove of school, get a ton of work in before due dates which are are way to fucking fast. But either way you knew you had to suck it up so you pushed yourself out those doors and into your car.

Right on time 9:30. It should only take 10 minutes to drive onto campus and that leaves you with about 5 minutes before the lecture starts. At least that’s what you fucking planned.

But just to your luck. There was an incident, nothing serious. Just ending up backing up the roads. And any fucking other day you wouldn’t have really cared. But you really could not afford to be late on your first day back. You wanted to make sure you’re on top of everything, and the walk of shame into the classroom is probably one of the worst things person could every fucking experience.

Once you make it on campus you speed walk through the halls cutting through people just trying to get to your door. Then everything will be fine and normal, you won’t have to worry about how stup-

A hard thud goes straight into your back

You heard about 3 things fall flat on the ground none of the things being yours. And as shitty as it seems, you were genuinely considering walking away just to get to fucking class..

You’re not a complete dick and you were raised better. So this leads you to reluctantly turn around and your met with? Well you don’t exactly know, she looks familiar but maybe she’s a year younger so you don’t often see her. She has brunet- no, auburn hair, green eyes, and freckles that go all around her face. She looks familiar but you can’t put your finger on it.

You look down and notice a binder, a now slightly cracked phone and skateboard which finally you make the decision to crouch down. The auburn hair girl is mumbling a bunch of sorry’s “F-fuck that’s on me. I-i’m like super late? So I was looking down and sh-“ You cut her off and shake your head picking up her phone and binder as she picks up her skateboard. “You’re good..Fuck I’m late too.” You chuckle looking at her as you stand up, quickly handing her the items she dropped on the ground.

You give out your hand to shake “I’m-“ and as your about to say your name, you’re cut off by her voice “N-no I know you, you sat in front of me last term” You don’t know what really led you to say the next part but what else were you going to say?? You didn’t notice her once, lying seemed like a better approach. “Right! Um what was it…A- no H?” You notices how her eyebrows furrow, the fact you definitely don’t know her name is becoming apparent.

“I-uh Ellie” She shakes your hand.

“Yeah! I was getting there!” You smile looking back at her before talking again.

“We’re you?” She tilts her head talking in a tone laced with a joking sound..just from her demeanour alone you can tell she was kidding.

“I was..” You shift your gaze down to her lips then back up. You weren’t trying to be weird or anything, you just did it on instinct which now on the contrary seems a tad bit creepy since this is literally your first time even talking to her.

Once you meet her eyes again you nervously cleared your throat and starting talking once again. “Well what room are you!”

Ellie notices the quick change of subject and she nervously shakes her head “U-uhh fuck 217 I think…?” You nod and look at her “Fuck, okay shit me too?” Your voice stops then picks back up “Want to walk?”

Ellie perks up and nods. It kept playing in the back of her mind why the fuck you were talking to her. Ellie wasn’t popular, not your level of popularity. Everyone knew you. So the fact you were standing in front of her, talking to her. She was almost confused. Yet she wasn’t complaining..

It only took a few minutes before you reached the classroom door, as you check your phone you see you’re a bit late. Nothing to complain about, it’s only 9:47 so who cares..?

When opening the doors your eyes lock with the seats in the back left corner, there open, and no one is sitting in them. You look at Ellie who seems nervous.

Little do you know in her mind she’s wondering where the fuck she’s going to sit.

The only single seats are in the middle of like 5 fucking people.

Once you notices her eyes are scanning the room and her whole face is plastered with a nervous expression you nudge her lightly.

“Wanna sit over there” You point your finger and her eyes quickly follow it.

She seems confused. Like her brain just did a 360 but she stutters over her words when talking back to you. “Y-you wanna s-sit together?”

“Yeah?” You smile and let out a chuckle.

“R-right! Yeah- Yeah we can sit over there.” She smiles and nods looking at you.

As you sit down your phone buzzes in your left pocket not wasting much time to pull it out. There’s one message Emily. Asking if you made it okay and stuff. Which leads to a mini conversation.

You couldn’t help but feel almost icked out? Emily’s not usually rude so her response was weird, and out of character. You wanted to believe maybe she was making a statement or something but you replied regardless.

She was being so strange, like not her usual self. Which lead your eyebrows to furrow and you were abo-

“You okay?” Ellie’s voice says softly probably noticing the fact your eyebrows are furrowed and your face now showing clear signs of annoyance.

“O-oh yeah!” you reply now embarrassed as you feel blood rush to your cheeks. “Just one of my friends, i’m good though!”

Ellie nods and smiles. “Okay, just wanted to make sure?”

You haven’t really met anyone like Ellie. I guess other then Emily? But it still took months to feel comfortable with her. With Ellie it seems almost easy? Like fast?

Your whole friend group is popular. Which wasn’t horrible? The benefits of being popular is nice? Sorta.. But unfortunately half of your “friend group” is fake.

Talking behind peoples back kinda fake.

You tried not to let it bug you though, you had people in your friend group you obviously loved, so you would just stick in that crowd.

But there was always some anxiety which came with it. Like you didn’t know if things you said would get passed around, so when talking to Ellie, knowing nothing had the chance of somehow going to anyone, else it was refreshing.

The class was finally fucking over and you packed up your laptop and papers.

As you were about to leave you said a quick bye to Ellie trying to be respectful. You didn’t wanna ask for her number because you didn’t want to come across as weird, you two just met? So that could wait?

As you turned around there was a quick “wait!” which was clearly from Ellie.

You just turned around trying to read her expression but as you were she cut off your train of thought. “C-can I uh get your number! I was thinking we could maybe study or something. This math s-shit is like kicking my ass” After her sentence there was a dry awkward chuckle. The fact you didn’t immediately respond worried her

Did she come off as weird?

To pushy?

You’re popular why the fuck-

“Yeah!” You smile walking back over to her.

“Are you busy right now? We can go back to my place and study if you want” You say not breaking eye contact.

Ellie quickly breaks the eye contact handing you her phone before she clears her throat. “W-no! no i’m not busy, right now is good actually” Her voice cracks in the middle of the sentence leading her to clear her throat once again.

You grab her slightly cracked phone and nod..

“K cool, it’s not a long drive and my cars out in the front lot.”

In a car

With you.

Great!

꧁✵★✵꧂

Saying the car ride is awkward is an understatement? Reason number one, you don’t know what to say because you literally just met Ellie.

I mean you’re alright on small talk but what the fuck do you say to someone you met a solid 2 hours ago?

And on the other hand Ellie is Ellie.

She can’t pick up on small talk for the life of her. So when you finally speak it almost feels like a blessing and a curse.

“Sorry about you phone?” You say, both hands still on the steering wheel as you drive.

“Huh?” Fuck this is awkward.

“Your phone, it’s cracked. Sorry?” You say a smile cracking.

“I ran head first into your bag I’m pretty sure that’s on me” Ellie chuckles looking at you as you drive.

“I guess, but maybe if I was walking faster it wouldn’t have happened!” You say glancing over at her before you turn your eyes back to the road.

Ellie’s face turns a light pink as soon as you made split eye contact with her. She’s silently now thanking ever fucking god in the universe that you turned your head before you could notice.

“Maybe but I think that was a sign I shouldn’t walk with my head down” Ellie let’s out a slight laugh.

The silence falls once again neither of you knowing what to says.

“D-“

“Sor-“

Both of speak at the same time a dry chuckle coming from both your lips.

“You go.” Ellie says nodding.

“I was just going to say sorry for not noticing you?” You say clearing your throat anxiously.

“What do you mean?” Ellie says tilting her head still looking at your side profile.

“Like- I sat in front of you for months you know?.. just the fact I didn’t noticed you makes me feel like an egotistical prick?” You say rubbing the back of your neck with your left hand.

Ellie shakes her head at your response. “No! Fuck I barley talked, trust me, you not noticing doesn’t make me have hard feelings” Ellie says quickly, she doesn’t want you to feel guilty for anything.

You just smile at her response and nod. “What we’re you going to say?” She quickly talks “Just gonna ask do you get what the fuck is going on in class”

You quickly laugh and shake your head “Fuck no! I’m actually so ass at math your gonna have to walk me through it.” Ellie smiles and nods. “What makes you think i’m gonna be good at it!” She says with a chuckle.

“Well you have to be good at it because we’re official study partners!” You say before nodding your head. “Official??” Ellie smiles

“Oh yeah, official” You nod and continue nervously. “We’re uh here!” You park the car in front of your sorority.

“I never been to a fucking sorority” Ellie says getting out of the car with her backpack in hand. “No?” You say looking at her. “Nah” She shakes her head “They feel cult-ish?” She laughs causing you to smile and look at her “So you’re joining my cult then?”

“Guess soo” She drags out her ‘so’ dramatically before walking to the two big white doors which leads into the sorority house.

You and Ellie studied for a few hours. Looking outside the sky was now dark. Rather then the bright blue it shined before.

You guys studying was basically just an excuse to talk, you got to know a lot about each other. Ellie opened up to you, you opened up to her.

You haven’t ever had a friendship where you got so comfortable so fast. It’s like the fact you guys met a solid few hours ago, it was completely disregarded. It’s like you connected so fucking fast.

You learned Ellie had two close friends Dina and Jesse. They didn’t go to the same school as you and her, instead they went to one about 30 minutes out. You “learned” she’s painfully shy, which you already got the message as soon as she ran into you.

She let it slip she actually debated talking to you last term but you seemed extremely intimidating which you laughed at. But she was standing her ground, saying like you gave off a bit of scary vibes.

“Okay scary?” You replied laughing

“Scary!” She says looking at you. Both of your guys studying papers are far from filled out, almost completely empty. But to be fair that’s the last thing on your mind.

“I need one fucking example from when I was being ‘scary’” You say defensively looking at her. The two of you are crisscrossed on your queen bed a bit to close considering how much space the both of you had. Both of your knees touching.

“K well- I don’t have a fucking time list of all the times I thought you seemed scary!” Ellie says shaking her head looking at you.

Your hand instinctively falls on her knee “I’m asking for ONE example!” You made sure to emphasize the word one. To point out it was really fucking easy.

Ellie’s whole face heats up and she feels like her body’s on fire causing her to stutter over almost ever other word “I-I d-don’t know l-like one t-time I heard you talking about h-how you were ‘gonna murder him’” She says chuckling to mask the nervousness that’s coursing through her veins.

You try to recall when you said this, it suddenly clicking “Okay wait! No there’s context!” You chuckle and now both of you are closer. It’s like each time a sentence is said, you’re moving further in.

“What fucking context could there be!” Ellie spits out laughing, which causes you to laugh harder.

“I was talking about some dick who used one of my friends!” You laugh your head falling onto Ellie’s shoulder.

“I guess that’s fair?” Ellie’s voice gets quieter. You can her heart beat which to say it’s fast. That’s would be an understatement.

You pull your head off her shoulder and look at her. Her face is pretty pink and you feel like you can ever little detail that revolves around her face. One thing about seeing ever detail, it had a result of your faces being mere inches from each others.

You don’t even know what the fuck led you to do this but you slowly guided your left hand to cuff Ellie’s cheek which now has the both of you to instinctively lean in.

Ellie does the same, manly following your lead as her hand also goes onto your cheek and now your noses brush against each other.

And just as your lips were about to touch a knock hits right against your door.

You and Ellie both quickly flinch back clearing your throat nervously.

You get up faster then her and the person behind the door is no other then Emily. You hadn’t texted her since the whole weird ass messages she sent a few hours ago.

Ellie’s thoughts are now going all over the place. Because you two almost just kissed, a knock breaks it up..and now there’s a girl who in her mind, is way better looking!

Ellie doesn’t wanna think it, but the fact you might have a girlfriend is lurking in the back of her mind. She wouldn’t be surprised to say the least.

“Hey” Emily says eyeing Ellie who is now putting her papers back into her backpack nervously, her hands fumbling over each sheet..

“Hi..?” You say looking at Emily. She’s eyeing Ellie with a look you haven’t noticed before. And as you were going to say something along the lines of “Do you need something” but Emily’s voice talks over your thoughts.

“Can we talk” She says now meeting your eyes.

“I mean I have someone ove-“ But before you can finish your sentence Ellie intervenes. “It’s- It’s fine i’m heading out anyway. You know it’s dark..? So?”

“I- uh, alright. You want me to drive you?” You say looking at Ellie which she almost instantly shakes her head “I’m not tryna be a burden i’ll just skate back, my dorms on campus…so i’ll uh, i’ll be chill..” Ellie says grabbing her skateboard which was planted in your room. Right after Ellie grabs her skateboard she already is almost out of the door. But you quickly talk.

“Just text me when you get to your dorm, so I know you got back safe and shit.” You say softly.

And just like that she’s gone, and your standing awkwardly in a room with Emily. When the front door finally shuts she got the sudden urge to talk. “Ellie?”

You nod confused. “Uh- yeah..? We were just studying…”

Emily nods looking at you. “Why though?”

“Sorry..?” You say now even more confused then you were previously.

“Like why hang out with her?” Emily says looking at you.

You think she’s joking so you laugh sarcastically “Fuck off?”

“I’m being for real, Williams, she’s like weird dude... That’s literally all anyone talked about when she was in my class.” Emily now chuckles and you shake your head.

“She’s not even weird?” You say defensively. “Have you talked to her?”

Emily shakes her head fast “I don’t wanna fucking talk to her?? Like I said she’s weird.”

You’ve never seen Emily act so blatantly rude, like she had her own opinions but she knew whether or not she should announce them. Plus! She’s never even met Ellie yet she’s judging her so easily with no second thought. You tried to push it behind you, trying to end the conversation with a quick “I gotta go to bed so. We can talk later.”

Emily scoffs “Great! Now you’re fucking being weird!”

“Im not even being weird! You’re just being rude, i’m not gonna listen you talk shit about someone you haven’t even had a conversation with!”

Emily just shakes her head “I’m hardly talking shit shit. I’m just saying what I heard, fuck.” The fact she’s trying to justify her shitty behaviour and actions just makes you more annoyed.

“K great talk Emily. I gotta get sleep” You say before shutting the door with a hard slam as Emily gets out of your room.

It’s been a few weeks since that whole situation, Emily’s been okay? She apologized and shit but everything is still a bit tense?.. Like she lets out mini sighs when you say your going to hang out with Ellie.

You assumed this was because maybe she felt left out, but every time you even attempted to ask her she always shook her head and replied with “Eh sorta busy with homework”

So you dropped in, she was clearly going through some weird ass phase with you new friendship and you just wanted her to push through with it. You didn’t feel like guiding Emily through it all.

And then on the other hand

Ellie

neither of you mentioned what happened in your room that night, or what almost happened? It wasn’t relevant, some friends almost kiss! You two almost kissed…? And it was nothing important.

Not something to jeopardize your new friendship. So you dropped it. And you internally prayed she would too.

Ellie on the other hand. She was thinking about the moment constantly, like it was a virus infiltrating every single free fucking thought she had. She doesn’t know if the blue eyed girl was your girlfriend, but at the end of the day she didn’t wanna push the subject. You hadn’t talked about it so it wasn’t something she was willing to bring up. Seemed better to drop it!

And here you are, laying down on your bed extremely bored with nothing to fucking do. Your mind was just wondering, thinking about class, school, Elli-

There’s buzzing coming from your bedside table and you quickly grab you phone.

Ellie.

You laughed at your phone. Ellie’s jokes were actually so bad it made them funny. You kept texting her no plan of stopping, but then she tells you she has a little something!

You smile at her messages quickly following up by closing your phone. You didn’t waste time to grab you car keys quickly leaving your sorority house.

꧁✵★✵꧂

The car ride wasn’t all that bad, it was nice knowing that you’ll get to be with Ellie again. Plus it was literally only 10 minutes so when you get there you quickly park and rush to the campus dorms.

As you go into the building you take the left to the elevators, shortly entering before you click floor 2.

As it stops and the doors open and you lead yourself to Ellie’s dorm which you’ve now been in a few times.

After knocking it literally doesn’t take long before she answers..her hairs messy, a few strands down her face and she gives you a quick smile. One thing you instantly noticed was the strong scent of weed that exits her room. “You’ve been busy” you say sarcastically giving her a quick smile.

Her eyes are red and she’s clearly faded. “Soooo busy!” She says sarcastically before it’s followed by yet another smile.

You go into her room and sit on her little single bed that’s planted right in the corner of her bedroom.

She passes you an already lit joint which you take a drag from.

“I wanna ask you something?” Ellie says as she takes the joint back.

You nod letting out a short “hm?”

“You obviously don’t have to say yes” she starts dragging her words a mix of nervousness and being high.

“Okay..?” You say nodding, you don’t know what she’s gonna ask but either way you’re nervous.

“Jesse and Dina, they rent cabin every year. And like my not tryna really third wheel so I was wondering…if maybe like-?” Ellie says shifting her gaze down into her lap.

“When is it?” You ask looking at her.

Ellie’s almost surprised you didn’t immediately turn it down so she quickly clears her throat. “Fuck sorry- It’s in a week. You don’t have to com-“

“Yeah I’ll come?” You say, the high now finally clicking in. Ellie’s heart is skipping right now but she quickly pushes it down.

You two are fucking friends. Just friends.

“Sick. O-okay cool. I’ll just like text you everything you’ll need and shit. And it’s like an hour drive so me, you, Jesse and Dina can all just like fucking drive together.”

“Okay cool!” You smile.

You and Ellie. Are going to a cabin together.

Nothing to be nervous about…!

———————————————————

A/N -> Hii! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I already have a full plot layout for the second one.

This might only be two parts simply because I might be able to fit everything I want with enough detail in just a singular part.

I plan on adding some angst in the next chapter ☹️ (so ig be ready for that!)

I also wanna really emphasize Emily is not homophobic! 😭

I was reading some of this chapter and it sorta seemed implied she was at least a little homophobic, calling Ellie “Weird” and shit, but it’s not because Ellie gay! I’m pretty sure most people might be able to clue on why she’s not to fond of Reader and Ellie’s ‘friendship’ but that’ll be for the next chapter.

I hope you enjoyed!

Taglist : @bready101 @onlinelesbo @amberputh @seraphicsentences @a-little-bit-of-everybody @zoehxnji @cyb3rd0nguh @graviewaviee

[actual-changeling]

See, but there's something about the first fight in episode 1 that just doesn't really. fit. It very much feels like we are missing information here.

I have been thinking about this show all day, as one does, but in particular why Crowley gets angry enough to shoot literal lightning at a nearby building. We have experienced him upset before, but never to that specific degree, and their disagreement over Gabriel just does not explain it for me.

My hypothesis: a big, important fight happened right before season 2 picks up that left Crowley feeling rejected and Aziraphale neglected.

The biggest clue is the snippet of conversation about myself vs. ourselves.

"I thought we had carved it out for ourselves"

He almost sounds offended when he says that, yet Crowley reacts with equal parts hurt and anger, like he is referencing something that we, the viewer, do not have any knowledge of.

"So did I"

However, Aziraphale seems to understand whatever Crowley is referring to and does not respond with anything in return. Yet whatever wound they just opened keeps bleeding, and when Aziraphale tells him, packaged nicely, to fuck off, Crowley seems more sad than upset to me.

The to go? is almost said softly and with an initial confusion that hides a LOT of unspoken pain. Plus the HAND MOTION? The gesturing between the two of them while saying "oh, so this is how you wanna do this?" - call me insane, but to me that very much sounds like "oh so this is how you want to break up?"

The funny part is, if Aziraphale had simply shut up after saying "I want you to help me take care of him", I can GUARANTEE YOU that Crowley would have begrudgingly agreed. But he doesn't. He keeps going and this is the first moment this season where he is genuinely and truly bitchy.

"But if you won't, you won't" with the demonstrative sit-down and turning away from him, eyes forward. It pokes at whatever wound is still open and bleeding between them. Aziraphale wants Crowley to jump over his shadow and come help him, ignoring his boundaries. Meanwhile Crowley feels fundamentally misunderstood and rejected and wants Aziraphale to SHOW that he cares about Crowley more than he cares about fucking Gabriel of all people.

That he cares about them more than about heaven.

And now we have finally reached Crowley's breaking-point. he is so deeply hurt by what Aziraphale just said and did, choosing heaven over them, that the pain turns into anger because he has no other way of expressing or feeling it in the first place.

You're on your own with this one.

That last look is filled with such disappointed heartbreak, he turns around simply to give Aziraphale a chance to ask him to stay, to apologize, something. Yet again, he does not. He doesn't even meet his gaze, he is looking away.

To me, he seems almost spiteful, like this entire argument is only superficially about Gabriel but about something entirely else deeper down.

Which - that's the point, isn't it?

Crowley comes back and apologizes because Aziraphale matters more to him than stupid arguments or choosing sides, keeping him safe is the only thing he cares about when it comes down to it. He swallows down his hurt and betrayal and does what Aziraphale wants: ignoring the entire argument and pretending nothing ever happened so they can continue like before.

Only that they can't. The entire season shows just how much they cannot go back to their arrangement, no matter how hard Crowley tries to mold himself to Aziraphale's will. Their final argument simply reflects all of that and more. The same wound that first one was about gets reopened very violently and they're bleeding all over each other with no way to stop it because they're too fucking stubborn to admit that it exists in the first place.

Aziraphale and Crowley can only fix their relationship when they acknowledge the reason the rift between them opened up. Until then, Crowley feels truly rejected and Aziraphale feels entirely neglected, and there is nothing anyone can do to make them confront that.

[novthewolf]

Two's company, three's a family - Part one

Summary: As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn't get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn't bring yourself to give them up, not oblivious to the reason.

Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).

Masterlist : Here

Warnings: foul language, alcohol use, slow burn, english isn't my first language.

Words : +3k word

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You were mopping around, wondering how the fuck you still hadn't managed to get those two sugar-rotten bird brains to get together ! You ran your hands through your hair and went down to rub your face. You reached for your glass and drank down every last drop.

6,000 bloody years you spent with them, and nothing !

So much work for no true result.

And, just for the record, you wanted to insist that you are really good at your job.

No, you weren't bragging; you really were ! A lot of cupids were cruel little things, and it had to do with the fact that you feed on the love a person feels for another. And since it didn't have to be reciprocated, most preferred to work less—well, smarter—rather than harder. But you just loved love stories. Of any kind, really ! Motherly, fatherly, between siblings, friends... Nevertheless, being able to form a perfect match and seeing the joy you brought to others always filled you with joy.

A cupid is just a specific type of angel meant to spread love all over the world. Which included humans, animals, and supernatural beings such as demons and angels. However, your peers weren't your favourites. They were too focused on their jobs, being either neutral towards each other or straight-up hateful. And hate tasted too bitter to your liking.

Which was probably the reason why you were so interested in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship to begin with. They were so friendly and caring that something inside you just clicked. Even if their love story was the slowest burn you ever encountered, you couldn't bring yourself to give up.

Hell no ! Mmh, no. You were too stubborn to accept your failure. Yes, failure. Because despite spending every moment with them (well, when they were together) and using so many arrows, those two just wouldn't come together ! And to make sure your bow and arrows worked, you almost paired up every goddamn duck at St. James Park.

Nothing worked ! Nothing !

Ugh, so annoying...

In your case, the only connection you seem to have in this vast universe is with the pub and your drink... And to the generations of barmen you complained to.

"How can someone be so oblivious ?" Your drunken words slipping out of your mouth without anyone to talk to.

"Tell me about it." A voice said next to you.

Oh, you recognised the voice alright; you just didn't feel like engaging in a conversation with anyone right now. Still, you were polite enough to acknowledge their presence.

"Hi Mihael." You mumbled.

"Good evening to you too, Y/N !" She chirped, her voice too positive for you to appreciate right now. You groaned and rested your head on your arms.

"What do you want ? It's not your type to be staying down there once your shift's over," you said before looking up at her.

Her dark pink eyes were scanning the pub warily. You rolled your eyes, her attitude reminding you how atypical you've become. Being among humans, eating food, or even walking on earth was something Cupid didn't do. Flying around was the most common attitude, as was having really limited contact with humans, or "clients," as Archangel Chamuel calls them. But you loved your time on earth with every creature, though eating ex-living animals isn't your thing. And being a freak was actually something you were doomed to be. You knew you were different from other mystical beings, and it was really fucking lonely.

"You're right ; I don't know how you can stand all the smells and, ugh, sensations." She shuddered.

You sighed, waiting as patiently as you could in that moment.

"But I guess you should enjoy as much as you can while you can."

What ? Why would she say that ? Did you do something wrong ? Did they realize you... No. And they never noticed that you spent your time with a demon (angels were obliviously okay) and tried to match up said demon with Aziraphale. Did they finally catch up ? Or were they upset that you mostly lived with humans ? No, you are almost the best cupid, producing so much love, as proved by how many ducks you shot.

"M-Mh.. sure.. but, mmh.. I didn't know my time on earth was on a timer." You tried to joke lightly, which was heavily ineffective in calming your nerves.

"Of course not silly," she beamed. "Armageddon is coming !"

"Wha-" you sat up, almost tumbleling down. "Already ? Are you sure ?"

"Affirmative ! The anti-Christ is being delivered as we speak."

"Oh, great..."

You just wanted to cry right here and now, but you really couldn't afford to. It would be crossing a line.

It wasn't fair. You still had so much to experience on earth and so many love stories to create, and you wanted to spend so much more time with Crowley and Aziraphale. They still needed to be together ! You couldn't let the End begin before you even saw the beginning of their love story. No, uh-hu! You will go down with this ship!

"How long before Armageddon ?" you asked.

"Oh, I would say around ten years."

Alright, you could do it. You just had to help two opposite beings, who spend almost all their existence together without technically being a couple, become one. Because how thing should be. And you had ten years to do so, even if you hadn't succeeded in the last 6,000 years. It could work ! You knew them and their love for humankind and their world. They would certainly team up to prevent the war and apocalypse from happening. And you were there to help. In every way. You scratched your itchy right arm.

"Right, sure... well, thanks, Mihael. Send my regards to Adriel."

"I will, thank you ! Oh, and Chamuel ordered that we lay off all the workers during the last week before the war, so we could be ready to fight."

"Mmh-hm." You nodded. Alcohol was messing up your communication skills.

"Great ! See you at the war."

When you turned, she was gone, leaving you wondering how you'd end up like this.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

(4004 av-JC)

In the beginning, you were in the Garden of Eden. You were here to supervise Adam and Eve's love development; you didn't shoot the arrow, though. They would have never let you do it anyway. Actually, every creature in the Garden had been paired up, but you didn't get the chance to create any of them. As disappointed as you were, you were not the type to overstep and you couldn't express anything. So you decided to be patient and walk around the garden discretely.

You suddenly came to a stop when you spotted something unusual slithering around the diversity of plants. You walked up to a 'lilac' tree, which looked more like a bush than anything else, and you saw an animal that was crawling on the trunk among the beautiful purple flowers. The creature was so long yet flexible that it didn't have any problem staying on such a small platform. His colours intrigued you too—mostly black with touches of red—and you had never seen anything like this quite yet. Your eyes widen, and you slightly rush to observe it further. The snake, while taken aback, didn't move and instead glared at you. His eyes were so beautiful and golden, and his scales were spotless and sleek, but touching the poor thing would certainly scare him away.

"What a beautiful thing you are... I'm glad God decided to make you !"

The creature started to retreat as soon as your words passed your lips, looking flustered. Declining his embarrassment, you chirped hapily. And with a glimmering smile, you resumed roaming around the paradise.

The wall was growing bigger and bigger as I approached one of the gates of Eden, curious to see the border and maybe get a peek on the other side—a glimpse of the barren and dry land. You were an inquisitive thing; your curiosity was way stronger than your fear. Despite anyone says or believe. But as you gently approached the door, someone called you.

"Mh, excuse me ! Little cupid ?"

Oh ! You weren't that small ! Pff, guardian angels could be so strict sometimes.

You rolled your eyes, soared up in the sky, and let yourself turn upside down to see who was interrupting your investigation.

"Yes ?" you sighed. "Mh !"

You weren't acquainted with lots of angels outside your group, but you were sure that you had already seen him before. His appearance was so welcoming, despite the raging, flaming sword that carefully remained in his firm grip. His hair was white and as fluffy as a cloud. You couldn't quite grasp his eye colour, though, which was always changing between blue, brown, and green. His human body was round and large, a body type you'd never seen before. Yet you smiled at his soft appearance. His tunic seemed to be slightly covered with bright purple petals here and there. You turned over, lying on your stomach in midair, looking at him expectantly.

"Hello." He smiled, then took a ragged breath, looking for words. "Mh, I'm afraid I must request that you not go closer to that gate."

You looked away, apologetic.

"Oh, I see... Sorry."

You were conscious of how leaving your station could get you in trouble, and being so close to the door could bring him problems as well. You sensed how agitated he was and went on to leave him in peace.

"Well, mh, good luck with, huh, guarding the door," you said, trying to look less churlish than the way you acted merely seconds ago.

"Oh well, that's kind of you." He smiled, touched by your words. "Good luck with all the love."

Seeing how thrilled he seemed made you happy. Your body was taken over by the intense emotion in your heart, and you began to fly while looping and spinning vigorously.

Suddenly, you stopped. You've never experienced anything like it. Your primary role as a cupid was to make matches between creatures by shooting them with arrows. Your vision allowed you to perceive the chances of happiness and love each creature could produce while bound by the other. There were hundreds of possibilities, and your job is to make sure your "client" finds the perfect match. In order to do so, you had to be able to identify each emotion with clarity and precision. Minimising your own emotions to work in the most efficient way possible Thus, you shouldn't feel too much emotion despite the satisfaction of your good job and all the love you could eat. And in your case, anything...

Feeling such a rush of emotion shouldn't be something you're capable of doing. You shouldn’t be feeling anything. You observed your right hand, confused and visibly shaking. Closing your eyes, feeling irrated at yourself, you marched back to where you came, hoping to find new animals to shoot to occupy your mind.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Adam and Eve were gone. Apparently, a snake—well, a demon—tempted the first human, and now they had to leave the garden. Just because they wanted answers to their questions. Needless to say, you weren't very keen to try and look beyond the wall without permission.

So you were simply floating in the air right next to the wall, waiting for an order from your Boss. Gazing up at the sky, you noticed how its blue colour darkened as the first rain approached. You sighed and decided to just go back to Heaven, hoping you'd finally get the chance to shoot at someone. Some may call you obsessive; you prefer the term persistent.

As you were sitting up and flying up. And the moment you saw the tall structure disappearing in the corner of your eye, you kept going up. But, afraid you might regret not gazing back, you dared to dart your eyes down to the rest of the world.

"Huh?" you softly gasped.

You saw the desert spreading from your heart to the horizon, arid and lonely, with the clouds darkening the land. Your heart ached as you watched what lay ahead. And as you felt your eyes water, you lowered your gaze. And the sight that welcomed me was so out of this world yet felt so... right.

An angel and a demon stood next to each other, talking and fraternising. You didn't really fight the war, but you knew how both sides hated each other. The metallic taste was already way too familiar in your mouth. But the premise of their relationship already smelled so sweet, despite a wisp of sourness.

A wave of euphoria struck you in the most unexpected way, and the sensations it brought you were simply too delightful to feel queer. You saw their bound, so precise and distinct, that you nearly thought you were a part of it. It just felt so real. So good.

You were so excited ! You beamed with all your might as you desperately tried to manifest your bow and arrows as quickly as possible.

As a novice in archery, you wanted to correctly seal the bound, so you decided to place three arrows because, like no one has said yet, "Three times' the charm". You aimed leisurely, breathing deeply and checking the quality of your multi-coloured arrows. The grey head of it is silently hurrying you to shoot.

And so you did. With a faint whistle, the arrows raced towards their target. The first one landed right in the back of the demon, on his left side. The second was pierced lower, in the calf of the angel. It didn't even hurt them; it was a great shot, really.

You retracted your arm, proud of yourself.

Then, you simply went straight back to Heaven. Still, the sky looked so dark, and the rain started to pour down on your cheeks.

And you don’t know why, but a profound need to seek comfort made you look down one last time. The guardian had stretched out his wing for the demon to hide under. So thoughtful, so caring, so warm...

You left after your first match was a success.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

(Present days)

You later learned that matching an angel and a demon was strictly forbidden. You blushed at the thought, embarrassed. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to abandon the relationship. Well, now you had to be super efficient if you wanted that ship to sail at all.

You drank down your last glass of your favourite alcohol, paid for your decent amount of beverages, and wobbled yourself towards the Aziraphale bookshop.

You weren't always invisible when you dealt with them; you gave yourself plenty of time with them along the way. They were aware that you were an angel, just not the exact type. You don't think they mind your company, but you prefer to limit your interactions.

However, you were running out of time, and you really didn't want to miss a thing. You hummed the song that sneaked into your head on your way. Once you arrived in front of the door, you tried to stabilise yourself by resting your whole weight on it. And you tumbled down into the shop. In your defence, the door was always closed !

Aziraphale and Crowley both looked towards you, shocked. Well, Crowley was more amused than anything. You rasped into the carpet and pivoted your head to greet them profusely.

"Hellooo !" you exclaimed, your tone drowsy.

"Y/N ? Why, dear, what are you doing here ?" Aziraphale promptly came to your side, helping you up.

"On the floor ? Well, I obviously just fell," you jested. You felt weightless as Crowley joined you two to carry you somewhere other than the dusty floor.

"So, you heard about the End of the world, I presume?" Crowley asked. They both let you down slowly on your assigned divan. You felt a hand brush a lock of hair out of your eye.

"Mmh." You rolled on your side to face them as they sat down on the opposite side. You'll have to work on that too.

"Yeah, someone mentioned it..." you waved. A few moments passed in silence. You guffawed when you noticed the bottle settled on the table.

"Sorry, it seems I had a bit of a head start, but go on!" You laid down on your back. "I'll wait for you to catch up"

Aziraphale shot a slight disapproving look in your direction, pouting a little, while Crowley reached eagerly for the bottle.

"Don't mind if I do," he said as he poured himself a large drink.

Shortly after, the angel followed you two. Alright, setting up the mood... This silly matter is going to be settled in a matter of hours now! You were perfectly capable of doing so. Aziraphale raised his glass to you, and you flashed your teeth. They don't know what's going their way.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

And they didn't, because your smartass decided to evacuate all the liquor from your body by sleeping.

Now, as you wake up, they're talking about dolphins. Oh, sure, what adorable and romantic sociopaths they are. It's obviously the best choice of conversation !

"Everything will just turn into bouillaba-bouil... bouilla..."

You sat up, pushing away a blanket, and listened to those dorks trying to pronounce bloody "Boui-...llabai...." Well, that dish !

"Fish stew," you concluded.

"Anyway," Crowley said with a weary tone. "It's not their fault. And that's the same with gorillas! They'll say : 'Woop, the sky's gone red! Stars crashing down ! What do they put in bananas these days ?!'" His drunkenness struck you, and you realised what Armagadon really meant.

"All the creatures..." you started.

"Whether they'd be great or small..." Aziraphale ended.

You both looked distraught. You loved all those little things; you spent countless hours discovering every one of them. The first time you saw a whale, you got so emotional that you cried. Thankfully, you were underwater, so Aziraphale, who came with you that day, didn't see your unusual sensitivity.

"And there's worse ! When it's all over, we're going to have to deal with eternity !" he yelled, his voice squeaking like that of a chipmunk.

"Eternity ?" Aziraphale wondered, disoriented. He didn't quite understand why on earth Eternity would be worse than the End itself.

"You're just upset you won't be able to listen to musicals, while we will," you teased.

"And you'll miss my very constructive critics, especially on The Phantom Of The Opera !"

"You utterly roasted it !"

You were ready to argue your arse off, but Aziraphale had his own things to say.

"I don't like it more than you do. I can't disobey... I've got to do what I'm told... right Y/N ?" He asked for your support.

"Mmh nh.. Yes, sure, but I don't think they pay attention to these sorts of things." You suddenly gagged. You weren't sure that giving back the liquor to the bartender was such an idea, but you couldn't afford to throw up.

"Maybe we should sober up."

They both agreed and quickly got sober.

"Listen, even if I wanted to help you, we just can't." Aziraphale explained while glancing at you, once again to encourage him.

"It's true, Crowley, we're angels. We cannot interfere with God's plan," you said, lying back on the couch.

"But what about Satan's plan, mh ?" His red hair framed his head, and your eyes focused on his, snake-like and wide. His whole face was encouraging you to listen further.

"It's your job, right ? Thwarting the demonic plan. Encouraging humans to be "good", mmh ?"

"No need to quote..." you sulked.

"That's broadly what we do, indeed." Aziraphale conceeded.

"With that in mind, it would be totally reasonable for you to act on the birth of the Anti-Christ. To thwart my demonic influence on the child while he grows up. I'm the only one managing his evil upbringing. Against two angels with such pure hearts, I would highly struggle to stand my ground."

Wait up, two angels ? Uh, you were getting way too involved for the two of them to easily seal the deal. You needed a way out. Aziraphale was considering the idea, giving you enough time to hastily prepare a counterargument.

"M-mh, so much good energy would change the boy too much. Everyone will realise it. I think it's too much of a risk. No, it would be best if the two of you took care of him. You know, like, uh, godfathers !"

The pleased and hopeful look on the fluffy angel's face caused you to sigh in relief. Crowley, however, was frowning. You just grinned, gathering all your charm to erase any suspicion.

"Still, he's made to be evil; surely the influence of two angels wouldn't hurt."

Think of something. You had to get those two together !

"I'll be your safety net ! Assuring the Heavens that Aziraphale is doing an excellent job !" You gestured towards him, nervous and frantic. The angel flinched slightly but didn't say anything. You nodded and smiled before turning to Crowley.

"And ! I'll mess with other people's demon jobs ! Giving them plenty of things to keep their minds off the Anti-Christ's childhood." You clapped your hands and tied your lips together, praying it would be enough.

The demon was scanning your face, taking in what you just said and your attitude. Aziraphale then faced his friend and supported your plan by taking a place beside you.

"It would be safer and less noticeable." He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him. When he noticed, he smiled in his reassuring way.

Meanwhile, Crowley had closed his eyes tightly, exhaling more air than normal humans actually had in their bodies. The dude's a balloon, apparently. His eyelids opened abruptly, and he offered his response.

"Ngh... fine."

Yay, victory.

"I can't believe I have to convince you to agree to a plan you created," you teased him.

"Er."

"It might work !" said Aziraphale happily. You hoped everything would go smoothly and that you could prevent the Earth from boiling, causing the destruction of either Hell or Heaven. You felt the angel almost wriggle next to you, and the demon smirked his way. Maybe it would be easier than you thought.

"Well, I'll be damned !" he exclaimed quietly. His brighting up the room.

"It's not so bad when you get used to it," Crowley answered mischievously.

And there it is. Hardships. Aziraphale lost his smile and looked at him with a warning. It really stuck in his craw.

"Crowley, don't they say thingz like that !" he scolded vigoursly.

"It's just a joke; don't make a big deal out of it." Crowley finally sat back, waving off Aziraphale's arguments. The angel took a step towards Crowley, standing in front of you. While he continued his rambling, the red head peeked your way and winked, obviously amused.

You rubbed your face with your hand but grinned as well. Easy ? Yeah, right.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

This is the first chapter of this series : "Two’s company, three’s a family"

I hope you enjoyed it and will stay around to see how all of this will play out.

Bye !

Parts : Next

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve's night is made when his barista ends up sharing a class with him. But Steve's paranoia gets the best of him– can he really trust his gut?

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.66k

warnings: flirting, fluff, hand holding, closeness, steve is adorable when he's nervous, paranoia, unease, cursing, barista lore™

a/n: had fun writing this one as we build up to friday! i might be switching the days/chapters around in the next few, but we'll see. depends on the depravity of my brain 😈

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Thursday.

Learning how to draw, when he already knows how to draw, makes Steve feel bad at drawing.

Sitting in the lecture hall of the art school, he doodles over the half-assed notes he manages to take during the first thirty minutes of class. Usually, he loves Drawing 101; it’s his easiest, only late-night class each week and one of the only times he can relax without worrying about one of the brothers barging in with another stupid homework question. Usually, it's just him, his earbuds turned up a touch too high, and whatever subjects the instructor places in front of him. On Thursday nights, nothing stands between him, an easel, and two straight hours of sketching pots and people. 

Except when a said-Thursday night happens to fall on ‘mandatory lecture’ day.

It hasn’t been an hour when Steve gives up trying to force himself to focus, instead choosing to mindlessly doodle over and around the page. The Drawing 101 guest professor continues to drone on about different types of graphite in the pencils kits Steve and twenty-odd other kids in the course were forced to buy. Steve doesn’t understand– nor does he particularly give a shit– as to why a 3H pencil is better over a 3B pencil, or how using an 8B pencil isn’t preferred over a 7B pencil.

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

Steve sighs, failing to stifle a yawn. No amount of coffee– not even the triple espresso concoction his barista had him try earlier that day– could save him from falling asleep in this godforsaken, decades-old room with dimmed lights and sporadically-filled seats scattered amongst the vast sea of empty ones. Honestly, nobody ever came to monthly lectures, save for when their usual professor mentioned the material would be part of their written midterms. Guest lecturers result in a lesser turnout, too, and Steve partially wishes he’d chosen to spend it back at the café or in the library. As the professor continues on to the next type of pencil, the double doors at the back of the room creak open. Still dazed in a bored stupor, Steve cranes his neck over his shoulder to see which unlucky bastard is almost an hour late to the snoozefest. 

He immediately wakes up, shooting up in his seat as if a bucket of ice water were splashed on him. He can’t believe what he sees: it’s her. Her. His barista. 

Mouth agape, he stares as she slowly closes the doors, careful not to draw too much attention to her late arrival. When nobody bothers to acknowledge her, she makes her way down the carpeted steps of the lecture hall in search of refuge in an empty seat. Her eyes dart across the aisles, desperate for just one, inconspicuous place that will draw the least attention. 

As she combs the rows with a furrowed brow and bottom lip slipping adorably between her teeth, Steve realizes he’s got some sort of a chance. Eyes dart to the professor, then back to her. Steve subtly raises a hand, waving to get her attention. Locking eyes, she finally sees him. Relief and surprise replace her bitten lip with a beaming smile. Steve’s heart soars, skipping far more than several beats. He doesn’t– he can’t– take his eyes off her as she quickly shuffles through the row of seats, plopping down next to him and dropping a tote bag at her feet. She pulls out a purple notebook and pen, slouching back into her seat with a relieved sigh, knee brushing gently against Steve’s. A ghost of the sweetest-smelling perfume drifts into his nostrils and he has the urge to replace his oxygen supply with it.

Steve feels like he’s dreaming. Cloud nine, light as a feather, the whole fucking nine yards. He skims over her features in the dim light of the lecture hall– the curve of her lips as she whispers to herself, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find a blank spot; her eyelashes that flick up and down as she copies down the date and class number. He trails down her neck, crossing over the gold bar necklace she wears every day, to her shoulders and arms, her hands. When his eyes drift back up to her face, she’s staring back. Heat blooms in his cheeks and nerves constrict his chest in embarrassment. She smirks, shaking her head and turning her attention to the professor’s current ramblings on B and HB pencils. Steve opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it.

What would he even say? How would he get away with trying to talk to her in the middle of the lecture? The professor would hear him, he’d get called out, everyone would see him–

She huffs, turning to another blank notebook page. Steve side-eyes her as she quietly tears the page out and scribbles something on the first line. Side-eyeing Steve, a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she discreetly slides the paper over to him.

hi stranger.

Steve can’t help but grin. It spills across his lips as more heat blooms, trailing up his ears and down his neck. Trying not to seem too eager, he clicks his own pen and scrawls a response. The professor’s voice fades into background noise, going through one ear and out the other. He’s a goner and so is Steve.

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

He slides the paper back to her. She scoffs a laugh, smile growing wider. 

last minute class drop + switch. u know how it is.

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

She shakes her head, quickly scribbling when Steve cocks his head, mouthing a ‘what?’

film kid. have to take art class for credit. only one available.

Steve’s surprised at her response, nodding once he thinks it over. It makes sense. 

She makes sense.

It fits her. It fits the way she moves, the way she carries herself, the ease in which she comes up with witty comebacks. It’s then and there Steve really thinks about the contrast between the two of them– the way he’s perceived versus how he perceives her. He’s a frat brother, a six-foot-two guy with muscles he doesn’t know how to use yet, and a lifelong artist who doesn’t fit in– no matter how much he tries to claw and fight his way out of the hole people dig and throw him in.

If anything, he doesn’t make sense. 

Brow furrowing and jaw set, Steve’s caught in the downward spiral he’s been fighting to keep at bay since coming to Richards– since he pledged his life away to Sigma Theta Beta and the never-ending identity crisis the brothers force upon him every waking moment. But, it’s with her that he feels more like himself than anywhere else in the goddamned world. It’s with her he wants to– willingly– be himself. He wants to be himself with her.

He, however, doesn’t realize the hack job he’s performing on his poor cheek tissue until a soft hand covers his, squeezing lightly. Warmth spreads like wildfire across Steve’s skin, breaking him free and bringing him back to the real world. Concern veils over his barista’s expression; her soft, searching gaze jumps between his baby blues.

‘You okay?’ she mouths, studying him, hand still on his. Her brow twitches upwards when he still doesn’t respond. Steve holds up an index finger and goes back to responding on the paper. 

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement. 

same. pencildick up there is putting me to sleep. how do you even do it?

Steve bites a laugh back. 

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

Her smile is bright enough to light up the darkened lecture hall. 

Two whole pages are filled by the time class lets out. Front and back. 

Steve allows his barista to take the lead in following other students out of the lecture hall. Buzzing conversations reveal a shared eagerness to get the hell out of there and go spend the rest of their Thursday night doing something else more worthy of their precious time. Steve slings his bag over his shoulder as he follows close behind, verbally continuing their written conversation about her shift from earlier in the day and swapping ridiculous ways on how they’ll manage to work every type of pencil into their midterm.

As he plods next to her, Steve fights an innate urge to place a light hand on her lower back to guide her out on their way to the parking lot. Instead, he gets the door, jokingly half-bowing with an outstretched arm to the second set of double doors. Continuing out of the building, Steve takes a breath, deciding now is the perfect time to ask if she’s busy tonight. Instead, though, she stops abruptly. Steve runs directly into her, arms jutting out instinctively to steady both of them out of sheer instinct. Grabbing her shoulders, she spins around to face him, closer to his chest than either realized.

Steve feels his ears turn red again. She looks up at him, blinking before taking a step back, lips parting slightly. An awkward beat hangs in the air before Steve clears his throat and rubs his neck.

"You, uh,” he swallows, preparing himself for the inevitable, “You maybe wanna go grab a bite t’eat, or somethin’?" 

Her eyes widen, lips twitching at the corners. She looks like she’s about to answer before quickly realizing something, as if internally scolding herself for even looking excited. Pressing her lips together, her eyes dart back to her phone.

"Shit, I–" she quickly types a response and shoves it back in her pocket, exhaling in frustration. 

"What is it?"

"I would love to, Steve. I really would, but," she closes her eyes and sighs, "I can't. My sisters need me back at the house. They said it’s an ‘emergency.’" She adds sarcastic air quotes, rolling her eyes. 

"Oh!” Relief fills Steve’s chest, thankful she’s not purposefully blowing him off with some shitty excuse. “Okay, no yeah, I–I totally get it, family can be-"

She smiles softly, shaking her head and taking his hand to run a thumb over his knuckles. The gesture is so casual, so soft, yet it sends goosebumps up Steve’s arm. 

"Oh, no. No, they're not my actual sisters. They're, um, my sorority sisters." She flinches as 'sorority' leaves her lips.

Steve blanches, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. He can't help the lopsided smile spreading across his face. He can’t help taking both her hands in his and holding them in excitement. The odds of it– all of it– all the things, of all the people, she’s the one to make him feel less alone. She’s the one that understands everything.

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

"No, I– I completely get it. My frat brothers are insufferable and I'm the newest pledge, so–"

It’s her turn to blanche. "You? You’re a new pledge, too?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I’m required by my scholarship–"

"Oh thank God it's not just me!"

"There's one for sisters, too?" Steve gawks. He’s truly in shock at the audacity of Richards to make any student required to endure the circle of Hell that is Greek life. He squeezes her hands. She matches him.

"Of course there is, meathead,” she snorts. “Title nine, or whatever the hell."

Steve nods. "I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone in this. It's fucked up, but maybe not as much now that I know you're in the same boat as me."

He pulls her ever-so-slightly closer. She lets him.

"Guess that makes you the Jack to my Rose."

Steve furrows his bro, cocking his head like a confused puppy. 

"Oh God– Don't tell me you've never seen Titanic," she gasps, feigning offense and sending Steve off course, thinking he’s fucked up somehow.

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

"I, uh– no, not that I know of. I–I mean I've heard of the Titanic, but I don't remember the– well I know there's a movie, but I–" 

She laughs, full and genuine, stepping forward as her hands leave his, placing one on his shoulder. Her touch is soft, gentle, more comforting than anything he’s ever felt. 

"I'll show ya some time. Don't worry."

Squeezing his bicep, her fingertips glide down to his hand, grazing his fingers for the slightest moment before slipping between them, lacing them together. Electricity shoots up Steve's arm. Without another word she leads him out of the building, walking down the sidewalk lit by the moon rising overhead and scattered street lamps illuminating the parking lot. 

Steve decides then and there he’ll go wherever she takes him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She stops at the edge of the parking lot and turns to him. "This is where I leave ya, my car’s over yonder.” She nods to a blue sedan with a Richards sticker on the back windshield sitting underneath one of the street lamps. “Plus, I’d like to save you walkin’ me to my car for another night.”

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

“Text me, meathead. I'll see ya tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow.”

She releases his hand in slow motion and Steve hopes she’s relishing every bit of physical contact with him as he is with her. He heads to his own car parked in the darker side of the lot under the shadows of the perimeter trees and dimmer lamps, swaying languidly and ambling across the pavement in a trance. Steve makes a note to himself: watch more movies, because he sure feels like he's in one. 

The trance is broken when a split second of what sounds like a scream echoes over the lot and is snuffed out just as abruptly as it started. 

Steve freezes, key halfway into unlocking the driver’s side door. Ears prick up, breath held firm in his chest. Turning over his shoulder, he gasps, startled as a blue car– her car– slowly backs out from under the streetlamp and exits onto the road casually. Steve watches it disappear from view. The sound of the engine gunning it down the road leaves Steve alone in the dark, a sick uneasiness pooling in his gut.

He gets in his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone.

You okay? Did you hear that?

Steve turns the engine over and throws the car into drive, foot hard on the brake before checking her text back. 

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

The uneasiness doesn’t leave him. She doesn’t usually text like that. 

“Fuck, get a grip, Steve,” he mutters to himself, resting his head against the steering wheel. He takes a second to gather himself and calm his nerves. The paranoia he’s been trained to feel thanks to his brothers, in combination with the fear of fucking everything up with his barista tonight, must be mixing together and clashing against every active nerve in his body. He’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s obviously driving right now, of course she wouldn’t fucking text how she normally does. She’s probably using voice text. Calm. Down.

Steve sends another text before tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat, the unease refusing to dissipate. He turns on the radio, turning up the song blasting from the speakers in a sorry attempt to silence his racing thoughts. 

No big deal. Get home safe.

His phone stays silent the rest of the night. It stays silent as he gets home, as he throws a bowl of ramen together, as he throws himself onto his bed and flips open his laptop to watch some random brainrot he finds on Netflix. 

He nods off, letting himself be taken by exhaustion as the uneaten bowl of ramen sits on his desk, growing colder, while the dim computer light and hum of dialogue pull Steve further and further into a dreamless sleep.

His phone dies silently in his hand. 

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Getting Yourself Wet for Me

ONE SHOT

•••

Summary: Harry is out, but you want to play, so the two of you find an alternative way to still get what you want.

AN: I got inspired, wrote this in one day, let's just leave it at that.

Warnings: Some explicit language, remote controlled sex toy, sexting, clitoral stimulation, edging/mild orgasm denial

•••

Harry left that morning for the studio, leaving you aching for his touch. He didn't have much time between the both of you waking up to when he truly needed to leave the house. So when the morning cuddles turned into him hovering over your body, with his lips on your neck, you knew it wasn't the best idea. But damn did it feel too good to stop. Until he had to.

"M'sorry, love. I really don't want to go…"

"It's alright, H." You replied with sincerity, though your body was screaming otherwise.

"I'll see you tonight, yeah?" He asked, a mischievous smirk on his face, knowing full well you have no specific plans for the evening.

"Of course."

With a quick kiss on the forehead, as to not make the throbbing any worse for the either of you, he pushed himself off the bed, did a quick change into some comfortable clothes, and made his way out the door.

Usually, you don't care. You can go on with your day and just look forward to when he comes back. But today is different. You are yearning for him more than ever before and nothing seems to be working.

Eating breakfast, taking a shower, starting laundry. Nothing. Nothing is working.

You do your best not to let your body take over you, but you can't stop thinking about his broad shoulders. You can't stop thinking about his toned arms, and the muscles that ripple down his back. You can't stop thinking about the way his hands feel when they roam all over your body, the way his warm lips feel on your skin, or the way his cock feels sliding into you, stretching you out every single time he pushes deep. It's not as if you can't take care of it yourself. But right now you just want him to be the one to give you that release.

"Oh for fucks sake." You mumble, grabbing your phone from beside you, not knowing what you want to say, just that you wish he was there. That you really wish he was there.

The bubbles to acknowledge that he is typing appear quickly, then disappear, then reappear again. You smile at the realization that he knows exactly what you mean and doesn't quite know what to say, which most likely means he has gotten a little flustered.

Suddenly, your phone vibrates again and you look down to see his new message.

You practically skip into the bedroom and over to your dresser drawer, reaching into a black silk bag and pulling out a bright pink sex toy. Harry had purchased it a while back, for when he would be traveling but still wanted to stay intimate with you in some way. He can control it from an app on his phone, so it doesn't matter where he is, he can participate. You have only used it once before, mainly to test it out, but you already knew you'd enjoy using it, and if Harry can't be there to take care of you himself, this is the next best thing. Especially because he still gets to be in charge. Completely in charge.

Suddenly, the vibration begins, and you are instantly overcome by the sensation. The rhythm he has chosen is slow to start, with the intensity peaking every 30 seconds, before lowering back down.

Not wasting another second, your core begins to shake again, and with the new speed of the toy felt inside of you, the desire to buck your hips up cannot be contained.

Thoughts of Harry's body on yours come flooding in, motivating your body to react with even more arousal. He is gorgeous, every inch of him can turn you on, and every inch of him can please you. Even his smell starts to give you a tingle. You turn your head to the side, and a wave of his scent fills your senses.

You close your eyes and take it all in, your free hand moving down your body and rubbing over your center, feeling the moisture already accumulating.

As the toy continues to pulsate inside of you, your fingers quickly find your clit, and begin to move in the circular motion that never fails to peak your pleasure.

The added sensation is tantalizing, and you didn't expect to feel this good this fast. You continue your movements, and as if Harry were right there in the room, knowing exactly what you need at the moment, he switches up the pattern of vibration and it hits you in exactly the right way.

You groan out in frustration. Harry is good at many things, especially in the bedroom, and edging is definitely at the top of the list, which can be most unfortunate for you. Pleasure is building quickly as your fingers work faster, your hips continuing to buck, and you ache for release. As if Harry knows your struggle, the pace of the toy is raised even higher. If you weren't completely at his mercy, you'd scold him for this. But you have to admit, it feels so good.

Tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes, so ready and now so desperate for that rush to take over you.

And just like that, your body tenses and ecstasy floods down your entire body, releasing ever tight muscle as your orgasm pulses your core, drenching the toy in the evidence of your pleasure.

You smile at how generous he always wants to be with you, always wanting to make sure you get the enjoyment you're seeking, even if he does deny you momentarily. Your breathing begins to regulate and you feel another text notification buzz on your phone.

•••

Main Masterlist

•••

Overall Taglist: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @harrystylesrecs @vickiii17 @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @jessitpwk @sunshinemoonsposts @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran @one-sweet-gubler @jerseygirlinca @carey86 @lomlhstyles @vrittivsanghavi @fdl305

[methoughtsphantom]

Wine Aunt Fright Knight Au

Have me a Fright Knight mistaking bby ghost Jason for the halfa child and kidnapping him, leaving him alone for a moment only to find the bby ghost freed himself in seconds and hid to grab him from behind and backflip him so fast he send him crashing to the window of which the kid stole the black curtain of to hide the makeshift of a mess his robin suit was.

hearing as he gets his bearings “sorry guy i already filled my quota in being kidnapped by tall black and broody shadow cryptids.” and watching the little dude disappear in a dramatic cape (curtain) sweep.

having the child pull up sometimes to the place he kidnapped him to to, in his words, eye some books he saw the first time. threaten to pull out the big guns (his sword) and make the kid live his worst nightmare only to get as a reply how unoriginal he is, like been there done that dude, rip off a new one, scarecrow did it better

literally having a bby ghost dodge every single attempt you make at slashing them with your sword without ever having to rely on his ghost powers, the kid is just like part acrobat and martial artist and escape artist and knows to pinpoint every fear tactic he uses and is just snark personified except when he throws at the older ghost references of books he doesn’t have in his lair to make him have them the next time he comes by

Jason the first time he knocks the bucket head of the Fright Knight: i thought you were the black knight not the headless horse, what the fuck really, did your mom just put all the legends in a blender and called it a day??

just a newborn ghost that apparently doesn’t even know how to ghost (nothing can convince Fright Knight that that isn’t why he doesn’t use his powers) and that he always tell to scurrie off nevermind he reminds him of someone, the kid just got quiet the one time he didn’t answer with a grunt and asked who.

just a lil teenager reminiscent of the fighting, a kid so obviously made out to be a weapon that it slowly tears at the Fright Knight how clear it always was.

just a big scary knight of terror ghost at first frustrating over this menace of a child he doesn’t want to acknowledge he’s getting fond of so he continues to attempt to slash him with his sword knowing the second the kid disappeared he would bring him back, and to who he glowers to when he sits next to him to read a book and talk about it. infinitely confused on why the kid seeks out his presence like there’s something familiar of it. begrudgingly coming to the realization he doesn’t want the kid to hurt. hesitantly making peace that’s it’s just jason projecting a safe figure of his past on him.

[sweet-dreams-internal-screams]

Anniversary💕

EthanxFemreader

Y’all are fiends💀 (it’s me I’m y’all)

Warnings⚠️ swearing mean/insecure!reader kinda, oral (fem receiving) dirty talk sub!ethan, praise

Ethan followed Y/N into her apartment as she stormed into her bedroom not saying a word to the curly haired boy. He grimaced as a shut the door behind him, still unsure of what he did wrong but by tension that filled the room as Y/N walked back in her Pjs Ethan didn’t want to know.

He tried to recall his day to the best of his abilities. He’d texted Y/N when he first woke up, gone to his classes for the day and then back to his dorm to hang with Chad. Ethan was stumped and he hated nothing more than to see her upset with him.

Y/n however was a silent as a rock, making little movements around her apartment. She had cleaned up out of frustration, not wanting to look Ethan in the eyes. She then stepped into the kitchen and made herself a bowl of popcorn and plopped onto the couch, turning on the television, still not acknowledging the boy.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Ethan asked gently sitting close to her, he was in fear that she’d get up and leave but she stayed still focused on the TV as her arm extended out to the calendar on the wall, today’s date marked in a Purple Heart: 3 month anniversary w E.

Oh god

Ethan groaned at this sight knowing he’d forgotten the date they were planned to go on. He could almost kick himself as he turned back to Y/n, whose eyes were still glued to the screen. Ethan turned to face her and placed his hand on her knee. “It’s our anniversary.” “Sure is! How’d you know?” “Y/n, baby I’m so sorry it slipped my mind completely!” “That’s what every girl LOVES to hear Ethan!” She said rolling her eyes. Ethan sputtered out more apologies then Y/N turned to face him. “I’m not trying to be insecure but how am I not supposed to feel like that if you forget things like this? I really care about you and to not hear from you all day and because you forgot about something really important to me…E, it fucking sucks.” She said turning away from the boy. Ethan sighed as she stood and announced to was going to bed. Y/n walked into the bedroom and shut the door quietly. Ethan stuck his head in his hands as he stood, knowing he’d fucked up.

Y/n was opening up the blankets as Ethan walked in, he grabbed her hands and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her against his chest. “M’ so so sorry baby, there’s no excuse but I really am, I love you Y/n and never want you to feel like this ever again.” He murmured into her chest. Y/n looked up at him with softened gaze and nodded. “I love you baby I really do.” He said. Y/n stood on her tiptoes to reach the tall boy and softly pecked his lips. “I love you too Eth.” She said. Ethan wrapped his hands around her face and began placing longing kisses on her lips. His hands sliding down to her hips, gripping them tightly. He the hoisted Y/N up, as her legs wrapped around his midsection as they continued to kiss, slightly pulling on her lower lip to open her mouth up to him.

Ethan moaned ever so slightly as he kissed Y/n, backing up onto the bed he moved his hands onto Y/Ns ass as he attacked her neck, sucking on the patch right behind her ear, causing her hips to buck up into him. He continued to mark her until he turned so Y/N on the bed now and he was in front of her. “Please let me make it up to you baby.” He whispered, playing with the waistband of her pants. She nodded and began to remove her pants, earning a small push from Ethan as he did it himself, then using his teeth to remove her underwear. The cold hitting Y/N’s middle section as Ethan traced her body with a finger. He muttered small praises to her. Ethan trailed all they way right before the opening of Y/n stopping to hold her knees open. He then began to kiss and suck on her thighs leaving marks that would only be visible to someone with access to Y/Ns lower half, which no one did, except Ethan.

After his explicit teasing, which was not necessary in said situation, Ethan finally aligned his mouth with Y/n, sucking and licking lines as moans leave her lips. Keeping his eyes hooked on Y/n as he continues to rave across her, taking any opportunity to lick inside her. “M’sorry, m’so sorry my perfect girl, I love you, so pretty and wet for me baby.” He hummed into her as Y/Ns hips bucked into Ethan, his nose aligning with her clit. “Fuck Ethan!” She yelled, her legs locking around Ethan’s shoulders as she gripped the bedsheets in any attempt to hold onto her anticipation. Just as the familiar feeling started to burning in her stomach, Ethan slid two fingers into Y/n as he locked his lips onto her clit, flicking his tongue against her. Y/Ns back arched as her moans got louder and more aggressive mixed with pants, finally coming and falling back into the pile of pillows behind her.

“Fuck baby, forget our anniversary more often.” “Absolutely not, I’ll be gray and old and celebrate our 100th.” “If it makes you feel any better I forgive you.” “Im glad, but if I ever fuck up again, I’ll know what to do.”

Ethan kissed up her thighs again, reminiscing about the marks he’d left on her earlier while he licked up the mess he made on Y/n. He then went into her bathroom and let the faucet run while he wet a washcloth, returning to clean Y/n a bit more before sliding a new pair of underwear he’d gotten from her drawer. She stared at this boy who just looked back at her with the sweetest smile and soft eyes. Ethan the crawled up into bed spooning his girl.

“You’re telling me you’re not going feral right now?” “I never said that but tonight and tomorrow are about you baby.”

Ethan then rested his face in the crook of her neck wrapping his arms around her and falling asleep.

A/N: I’m so kind for releasing this early since it’s my birthday but here it is! Charlie will be out on Thursday and Chad on Next Tuesday !!

[writeouswriter]

pls no anti ai art demagogy on my dash, thx

(X) in reference to this reblog I assume.

This is the wildest ask I’ve ever gotten.

“Please no love for the humanity of creation on my dash, please. Please no acknowledgement that art and the human experience behind those making it is inherently and fundamentally intertwined. Please no shoving the fact in my face that art is meant to connect rather than consume.

And please no pointing out the basic truth that most AI engines are built off the stolen work of others.”

Demagogy, noun: political activity or practices that seek support by appealing to the desires and prejudices of ordinary people rather than by using rational argument.

You come into MY house, you tell me what not to reblog on MY blog, and you what? Call me “irrational” and insult my understanding of the topic in the process?

Political activity, political activity... fuck off. Actors, writers, artists, those most affected by this ARE the ordinary people, and their concerns and fears surrounding this are perfectly rational.

And you know, nothing hits it home more for me than when I thought about my favourite show at the moment, the one that makes me lose my mind a thousand times over, I thought about everything in it that makes me tick, thought about both strong points and weak points, because it is flawed, god, is it flawed because people inherently are, and that’s the beauty, but mostly, I thought about the sheer amount of care/thought and depth put into it in a way I've never really seen before and in a medium/genre/whatever you'd absolutely never expect to find that thought put into, especially if taken completely at a surface level. Thought about the levels of metaphor and symbolism layered in beneath the silliness, thought about the callbacks and clever timing, thought about the behind the scenes arguments about what direction worked best for the narrative and the audience, arguments that took place because of how much they cared not just about telling a good story, but about telling one that really means something to them.

Thought about the love, the time, the excitement and the flair and personality and background and intent of each and every person behind the team bleeding its way into the scripts, into the acting, into the heart of what makes it truly what it is, and how that love bleeds into the audience as well, how that love and human connection is what prompts people to write full page essays and analyses on it, draw fanart for it, create the most beautiful fics for it, that love is what prompts them to laugh and cry and vibrate at the speed of sound thinking about it, and what prompts thousands upon thousands to come together in their appreciation for and relation to it, rallying around it like a group of cavemen around a campfire when they had never before seen the flame.

And then.... then I thought about the idea of that same show being written by an AI and genuinely felt physically ill. Because no real care will have been put into that beyond "If it looks like a TV show, sounds like a TV show, it must be a TV show." And on the surface, maybe it’d look fine, I’m sure some people wouldn’t notice. But it’d not only be made without thought, but consumed without thought. And, sure, maybe that'll fill you up in the short term, but it's gonna leave you feeling hollow and sick eventually. Because stories are not a thing to be mass produced with a random assortment of the cheapest quality materials on a conveyor belt that shovels them directly into people's throats at the most efficient speed possible, stories are not a thing meant to just be consumed! They are a thing made with intent in every aspect, even when accidental because our lives shape it subconsciously, they are a thing made with love, a thing to be savoured! And yes, for that to happen, they will take a lot of time and hard work and dedication, all of which deserve fair compensation and respect, all of which cannot just be replaced by a sham amalgamation of these things, and they will be all the better for it.

And on some level, corporations know this, and they want you to blame their shortcomings on the writers, on the artists, they want you to look at things like the strikes and those rallying against AI and get mad that they’re keeping art from the common people, or forcing them to come to this, or they want you to think they’re simply trying to make art more accessible, all the while building their conveyor belts in the background with the blood of those they’re kicking down, taking away jobs and shoving the humanity out of the picture.

Art is made to communicate, and sometimes it’s frustrating when we can’t get that communication across, when the image we want to convey is out of our skill level, our capability, when our words get tangled up, jumbled together and we need a helping hand to find the right ones again, and on this level, maybe AI could be a useful supplemental tool, or a fun little thing to mess around with, if ethically sourced, if used for good, if taking into account and graciously acknowledging exactly how it’s being used as a tool, rather than trying to pass it off as something it’s not.

But is it political, is it irrational, to merely state that the human condition cannot be replaced?

——

The unfollow button is free, I don’t work for you.

[reorientation]

okay nothing in this world has ever made me flood with need the way seeing my asks linked and tagged as 'respect anon' did. little update - ive been getting railed so often (11 times total now since mid november) that i have a bruised cervix. it hurts in such a delicious way, makes me hyperaware of what i am, almost feels reminiscent of cramps.

my original hookup ive now seen six times, and he wants to see me once a week minimum. the way he murmurs "good girl" so encouragingly to me, his strength, and the insanely erotic feeling of him breeding me, have all bewitched me. the texture of semen exploding into a wet cunt is so unique and im obsessed, its a different consistency from my own wetness, so i can always feel the exact moment hes fucking his sperm into my fertile body, even when i dont feel him throbbing through it (which i usually can).

other than him, ive fucked four other guys in the last month. each and every one of them came in me bare. i hoped a few times would sate me but if anything its fanning the flames. on my neediest day i had three guys come over one after another to fill me, the first was my original guy, and the other two were completely random, and they all treated me so perfectly honestly.

the third one in particular fulfilled my need to have a real man coax me into admitting my real name, he fucked me hard and fast and used his filthy tongue to slip into my subconscious mind and loosen my inhibitions until he got it out of me. then he used it over and over again while he fucked a baby into me, slapped my well-bred pussy till i begged him to stop, then held me so tightly. i felt so dazed and safe and feminine in his arms.

it feels so good to have a man respect me enough to give me what i really need, especially when im being brave enough to ask for something i was so afraid to even acknowledge about myself. and it especially feels good when he looks right into my eyes while pounding me and reminding me of the truth.

fuck sorry for multiple asks i literally just cannot stop thinking about being dubbed 'respect anon' its driving me crazy. i can feel my pulse everywhere, but it seems to pool in the places that make me a woman: my clit, my pussy lips, my aching dripping vagina, and my breasts. i can feel my pulse in my fucking nipples. and also usually my temples but thats off theme.

i cant get over how good it feels to be fucked. i never in a million years expected how endlessly perfect it would be, ive found partners that emanate joy together with me and its so much fun and so erotic. the original guy in particular, just takes so much joy in fixing me and in enjoying my cunt, i often end up watching the filthy reactions on his face as he watches my pussy clench around him. he watches us join together as one, my cunt singing with pleasure, i always ask him if theres anything else i can do for him and he almost always says "lay back and take it." like, yes sir!

once i was riding him and his hands were clenching my hips tight, i love riding because it makes my breasts bounce and heave so deliciously. he was staring at them, i was moaning like a bitch in heat feeling him stretch me out in an angle we dont normally do, and suddenly he looked me in the eye and said "you have a womans body." swear if id been on my back i would have orgasmed right then and there. he sometimes goes back and forth in what gendered terms he uses and it keeps my mind spinning with confusion and desperation. we are both bi and im pretty sure our current dynamic is heaven for us both.

there are so many filthy details i want to share with you. feels like i could babble all day about the things that have happened, but it all boils down to this: im a woman, obsessed with taking cock, finally letting herself enjoy some wonderful company, and it wont be long until im the sluttiest pregnant girl grindr has ever seen, hahahah.

respect anon back with one last thought because ive been obsessively rereading your two responses to me so far. when i begged him to refeminize me, "it doesn't even sound like he was surprised." nope! in fact he laughed at me, he laughed and said "fuuck yes." in that moment, i knew that he had already known, and was waiting to see if id admit it. with him, i have this manic energy where i come off completely insane over text, and his steady energy only serves to wind me up more. i think he knew id cave and beg to be detransitioned, my pics are all pretty high femme and lets just say im not ever subtle about my femininity.

the weird thing is, i only have that manic energy with him. i dont know if its because hes genuinely the hottest guy ive ever met, or because he took my virginity, or because he succeeded in breaking my mind. but the other guys ive slept with, while they blow my mind and show me what im for, i dont make such a fool of myself to them.

genuinely with him i have lost all semblance of self-respect and it proves right everything he has ever whispered into my ear.

(Previously)

All that fun you've been having, going from being a virgin to getting inseminated by five different men within a couple months - and nothing ever made you flood like my tagging system? I'm very flattered, Anon! A bit bemused, but flattered.

So much to speak to here, but one part I truly love is that your new life as a woman started with the first man to use your pussy laughing at you. Like your whole identity as a man had been one long joke you were telling, and you'd finally gotten to the punchline.

That's what real respect looks like for you, isn't it, Anon? A man who'll wait for you to finish telling the joke before he laughs.

And the man who made you tell him your real name while he fucked you full of cum... There's a pleasing symmetry to that. He got something out of you and put something into you. He learned what they called you when you were born, and maybe gave you a baby to call your own.

Which is what you're made for, after all. Your body never stops reminding you of that, whether it's with the pain of a bruised cervix or your blood pulsing in your swollen nipples or the unstoppable pleasure of taking a man's cum in your womb. It's little wonder that you've come so far since getting fucked for the first time, little lady: your body was just waiting for the chance to start.

[vee6lolz]

part 3: Krasivaya.

summary; There's a war in her mind, and she's fighting herself. Everything is getting to her, she can't handle it anymore. She's slowly dying inside and no one seems to notice... except one person.

cw!!; +18 content, minors dni!, mini smut scene (not between valley and spencer), angst, emotional reader, mother!reader, toxic relationship, emotional cheating. established name (YOU CAN SELF INSERT!), cheating on reader implied, slow burn, implied protective spence, implied overstimulation + stress . </3

we love u valley we scream out in unison

a/n: this is part 3 of the hidden valley series ! you can find the official masterlist here. --

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE !

- DONT FORGET TO LIKE + REBLOG PLS ! + REQ OPEN

w/c: 6.7k ( ill NEVER give yall short fics i love yall tm)

His lips felt so rushed, it overwhelmed her. His breathing had become more ridged; his muscles tensed. He clawed at her hips as if he was drowning and she was the life line, sweet nothings being whispered through the air.

His mind went blank, only being filled with intense ecstasy.

While her mind was only filled with thoughts of her colleague.

She was being thrusted into by her boyfriend of almost 16 months and all she could think about was a man who she's interacted with once -- cliche. It was like a really bad porno.

Every chance she got to look down at Nick, all she could see was Spencer. His voice, calling out for her in a fit of pornographic moans. His perfectly sculpted jaw. Brown doe eyes staring back at her as he consumed her tits; licking up and down her buds.

She imagined his fingers dripping towards her most sensitive, teasing her body as he hesitantly rubbed. He would make sure that she felt pleasure with even the lightest touch; if she didn't, he wasn't doing it right. Her back would arch, and he would dip his neck to kiss in between her breasts, leaving soft kisses to her intermammary line to sooth her.

Her breathe hitched with his every thrust almost in a rhythm, her walls clenching around his sex.

“I can't--” She would moan out, throwing her head forward, finding peace in the crevice of his neck, digging her nails deep into him to the point of pain.

“You will.”. He would, almost beggingly. He would need her to finish on him, he wouldn't be able to feel complete without it. He would've been in look. The pit started to boil within her lower stomach. Looking down at how full she was, full of him at that would've sent her over the edge. “Agh, Mm...” She'd moan out as the feeling began to rise.

“Yeah, you gonna come?” Was asked. Yet, it wasn't Spencer's voice. It wasn't the soft, begging and welcoming voice she fantasied of. It was Nick's.

Just like that; Pit came crashing down, and not in a good way.

Realizing what she had been doing, she thought quickly. His hands wrapped around her waist and she nodded quickly, “Yes, Nick, fuck.”, She lied. Fake mewls and mumbles flew through her mouth as she forced a clench around him, which sent him over the edge. His face flew in between her breasts and his nose hit her chest, causing a wince of pain. He showed no care. Nick pulled out of her warmth and emptied himself onto her stomach, gasping out for air as she reached to kiss him and he dodged it,

“You know I don't--” “Right,” She acknowledged. He doesn't kiss her after she gives him head. He sat up on the bed and threw her her shirt, groaning as he walked towards the bathroom to go shower. She sat there frustrated, and edged. And usually, she'd be into that type of thing if it were voluntary. Most of all -- she was confused. She denied that it was Spencer, she thought of. She convinced herself that she was getting people mixed up. Maybe she wasn't thinking of anyone at all, because she had Nick.

She couldn't think of anyone at all. She would never hurt Nick like that, and Nick would never ever even think of hurting her like that.

She pushed any guilt she had incredibly far down, essentially gaslighting herself.

It was a weekend off for the team, and the more she thought about it the more frustrating it became.

**buzz buzz**

She stared blankly at the text message, breathing out through her nose as she shut her eyes; she figured if she ignore it -- it would go away. And when her eyes opened again, it was still there. A groan fell from her lips, probably the first real one all night.

Valley struts into the D.C Station after and forty-nine minute drive, being met with the faces of Jennifer, Aaron.

"SSA Aaron, SSA Valley, Vic Barnes." The blonde spoke, she gave a soft nod. He reached his hand for a handshake; she waved instead.

Looking at the bulletin board, Valley's eyes move quickly around the notes and pictures. She notices the hesitation marks on the second victim, "He isn't sure he wants to be killing." She speaks out,

"He's asking police to find him," Hotch adds. "Matches your kid," he speaks behind Valley to which she turns around and is met to face with Dr. Reid. Her eyes meet with his not for long, before his inlock with Hotch's. His eyebags are heavy, his hair is messy, and he looks like he's on his third cup of caffeine. Spencer didn't get any rest, and she can tell. If he could he probably wouldn't let himself blink.

As she looks down at his hands gripping the coffee mug, her thoughts wander back to her early morning rendezvous. The way his hands fit perfectly around her neck, the prettiest necklace she ever wore. She snapped out of it when she heard him speak, her mind racing with confusion and frustration once again. She didn't get her rocks off, and right now really wasn't the time to think about it. Not while they're discussing a trail of prostitutes getting left on the streets.

"I let him go, I'm sorry." He said, genuine disappointment evident in his voice. It was obvious he was beating himself up about it, and if he could without being written off as crazy -- he'd do it in a literal sense.

"We'll catch him," Hotch added.

Around two or three hours later, Gideon and Spencer sought out the unsub for his arrest.

Valley sat at the department, zoned out while sipping on bad coffee, and it felt way more overwhelmed then usual. She felt like he had been making no progress with the team, she had done nothing to help, the officers are desperate to spark up conversation with the team.

Everything is going profoundly wrong. Not to mention, she was about to experience the best orgasm of her life before the sound of her boyfriends voice ruined it.

And in the midst of all of this, Valley had been experiencing incredibly bad flashbacks.

It's the same thing, over, and over again. She's stuck in the same position as blood drips from the rounded oak table to her feet.

The assailants were faceless, like wraiths in the night, their identities shrouded in mystery. They moved with an eerie grace, their bodies gliding across the room as they ransacked the house.

One of them turned towards her hiding spot, his eyes glowing like twin embers in the darkness. You could almost make his eyes out his appearance effortlessly; if it wasn't for the mask he wore.

He was a brunette with long greasy thin hair, his eyes where a soulless dirty blue which were surrounded by a black eyeshadow. A shudder of terror coursed through her as he moved towards her, his steps echoing ominously in the silence.

She exhaled through her nose, thinking of ways to focus. But she couldn't. She didn't know why, her mind was telling her to do one thing while her body was doing three others.

'Should I put the cup down? No, pick the marker up. Don't forget to highlight important details within the case--'. The voices inside her head were so continuous, vexing, and loud.

"Uh, okay okay..." She said under her breathe while squeezing her eyes shut, repeating everything she had to do out loud while scrambling all over the place. It didn't help when Morgan walked through the door, another presence she had to deal with.

Her iris met with his and all she could do was roll them, not purposefully but it was defintely noticeable. And it defintely concerned Morgan to the highest extent. "Baby," He spoke. She ignored him, and continued to scramble around.

Smile.

She smiled.

The inner monologue got even louder, don't forget... no wait... you need to--- she was trying so hard to breathe in and out. She was trying so hard to calm down. But she couldn't, so how she reacted wasn't ideal. She didn't want to be touched, she didn't mean to she just didn't want to be touched. But she thought Morgan put a hand on her shoulder, and,

"Can you fucking move?" She blurted between her grated teeth, nostrils flared and her hands in the air. Her face dropped quickly after she realized what she just said. Her expressions softened, and Derek looked at her. Not normally, not concerned. He didn't look at her like he knew something was wrong with her, or like he knew she needed space. He felt bad for her. He pitied her.

And that only set her off more. "Don't give me that look, please. Not you Derek out of all people do not give me that look." She pleaded with him, her head rocking back and forth. "Look, I'm sorry there's just-- I need you to back away from me. For a moment, please. I need you, to back away. Anything you need to said can be said without touching me.". And that's when he looked at her with even more pity,

"Val."

"No, Morgan. I'm serious. I'm not made of braille you can understand me without having to touch me,"

"Val--" She cut him off, clearly agitated. "Anything you need you can say from--" "Valley,"

"What?" She asked aggressively, turning her head once again. No one was there.

"I'm standing over here.". She looked across the room Morgan never made it in. He had been at the entry way this whole time, alongside Gideon.

Alongside Spencer. She never felt more a fool in her life, her eyes shot back and forth between Gideon and Derek. They didn't betray her, they didn't think of locking with Spencer. She was so, humiliated, so how could they? She looked down once again, shaking her head out of pure embarrassment.

"I could've sworn you were right here. I thought,". At lost for words, she refused to make any further eye contact. "I apologize." she blurted out.  

"Brown," Gideon called. "Sir?" - "Morgan will take over on the profile building,". Her head shot up, and before any refusal could be made, she was interrupted. "I want you to take a walk.". Her nostrils flared once again, "I don't need a walk, Gideon."

Hearing his name being said in such a manner, he glared at her. "Yes, you do.". Valley nodded softly, not wanting to make a bigger deal of things than she already has. She walked towards the shining glass doors, her presence causing both Morgan and Reid to make way. Incoherent mumbles escaping through her lips. She had no clue where she was going to go, but she wanted to go somewhere were she couldn't be bothered. That was going to be insanely hard to do, seeing as even the slightest breeze of wing could very much bother her at this point. She wasn't going to let that stop her though.

It took her fifteen minutes to find a park, where no one was. She could be alone with her thoughts, ones that were free of any task that sent them into overdrive. She didn't know what kept her mind captative, she couldn't pinpoint what her problem was, she couldn't even pin point what her main problem was. Her mind was constantly on go, and she felt like an idiot because she couldn't keep up with it. It was frustrating and it made her feel stupid. And she never feels stupid. She stared into the water fountain, watching as the Koi fish swam in sync with one another. So free, so beautiful.

One reflection became two, and she was greeted with a familiar face. Her eyes felt like they could pop out of her head, and her cheeks stung so badly once she noticed his presence.

 “You know, PTSD can cause intense emotional outbursts, like anger or irritability, due to an overactive stress response system. This reaction happens when the brain's amygdala becomes overactive, especially when triggered by reminders of past trauma.” Spencer spoke, trying his hardest to do whatever it takes to make sure she felt more sane, she was craving silence, believing it would bring her the solace she needed. Yet, despite her desire for quiet, his voice proved to be a greater comfort than any peace could offer. His words reached her in a way that silence never could, filling the void with a warmth and reassurance that transcended mere tranquility. 

 “Statistics show that about 7-8% of people will experience PTSD, and a significant portion, around 51% of veterans, report significant anger issues. These outbursts can strain relationships and affect overall well-being.”, she laughed, unable to hold back the sound. All she could manage was a laugh as she asked, “So, you’re saying you think my friendship with Derek is doomed?”. Spencer shook his head and smiled. “I think that if you try to hide how you feel from someone you care about, it already is, Krasivaya.”. Her ears peaked up, his eyes averted her gaze. "Valley. It means Valley in Russian.".  Valley stared up at him, the sun casting a warm shadow over the two. She stared at him with longing; he stared at her with compassion. “You were not spiraling. You were overstimulated,” he reassures her. “I uh- I know how it feels.”. He added, fixing the glasses that sat perfectly on his face. Perfectly on the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes glistened, his hands in his jacket pockets and his scarf almost hiding his defined jaw, leaving everything to the imagination. And that only lead her back to this morning. The morning where she felt herself most calmed. The morning where she felt herself unravel, she felt herself release all build up she had. And the worst part is, she feels so terrible about it.

“Do you ever feel like, your trapped in your mind? Like your thoughts are clawing at you from the inside and you're scared that one day, you're gonna be to tired to fight them. And you're going to give in?”

“Am I scared of my own mind?”. She nods in response to his question, her feet moving away from the fountain as she makes her way towards the gateway of the park. 

“How could I not be,” He simply replies. They walked in silence for a while, just allowing each others presence to speak more than words ever possibly could. She begun to profile spencer quite a bit, looking up at him for a moment and letting that mental image do the work.

“Krasivaya,” she whispers softly. Spencer refuses to look down at her, just hummed in response. “What does it really mean,”, now he looked down at her. He thought for a little and just shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno,”

“You can't lie to a profiler,” she joked while giggling. “I mean it took you approximately 5 minutes to figure out I did, so I'm pretty sure I can,”. Valley shook her head, nudging him softly.

The park is enveloped in a serene stillness. Streetlights cast pools of warm, golden light on the deserted paths, their glow creating long shadows on the dewy grass. The trees, heavy with leaves rustling in the light breeze, stand as silent sentinels in the dimness.

The two walk along a winding path, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath them. The air is crisp, tinged with the faint scent of pine and damp soil. The occasional chirp of a distant cricket is the only sound that punctuates the quiet.

The park’s fountain, dormant for the season, is surrounded by a ring of frost-covered benches, their once-vibrant colors muted. A nearby playground, with its swings swaying gently, adds a ghostly touch to the scene, the metal structures gleaming faintly.

As Valley walked beside Spencer, the vibrant hues of autumn leaves danced in the gentle breeze around them. She focused on the rhythmic crinkle beneath her boots, each step a small distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind. The air was crisp, smelling faintly of earth and decay, but it felt alive, contrasting sharply with the heaviness she felt inside.

She cast her gaze away, attempting to push aside the memory of her outburst, the way her voice had shaken with raw emotions she thought she had under control. Instead, she silently watched the squirrels scurry about, busying themselves with acorns and nuts, seemingly oblivious to the world’s chaos. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of her mouth; even the wildlife was thriving, while she felt as if she was struggling just to keep her head above water.

Spencer walked beside her, his presence a steady, calming force amidst her inner turbulence. There was something reassuring about his quiet demeanor, his gentle intelligence that always seemed to shine through in moments of uncertainty. Yet, Valley’s mind flickered constantly, wrangling with self-doubt and guilt. How could she have lost control like that? She had promised herself she wouldn’t let her emotions overwhelm her again, not after everything.

The park was alive, but she felt strangely detached, as if she were watching it all unfold through a glass window. Laughter from nearby children echoed in the backdrop, but it felt distant—like a sound meant for someone else, not for her. Valley glanced sideways at Spencer, who was quietly observing her, his brow slightly furrowed in concern. Even in her turmoil, his eyes were warm and inviting, an anchor she didn’t know she desperately needed.

A few minutes passed in amiable silence, the peaceful sounds of the park mingling with their footsteps. Valley felt a twinge of warmth at the thought of Spencer simply being here. It was absurd how much his presence meant; he had a way of making her feel seen without pressuring her to share what she wasn’t ready to reveal.

After an eternity wrapped in minutes, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for earlier…” The words escaped her and hung in the air between them like a delicate thread.

Spencer shrugged lightly, the corners of his mouth curving into a soft smile—one that spoke volumes, reassuring her without the need for excessive words. “It’s okay to have feelings, Valley. You don’t have to apologize for being human.”

His words wrapped around her heart, easing the grip of anxiety that had tightened within. As they continued walking, a warmth blossomed in her chest, melting away the initial chill of shame. Maybe it was okay to let her guard down occasionally, to accept that everyone wrestles with their emotions.

Spencer glanced over at her and suggested, “How about we grab some coffee?” His eyes sparkled with a gentleness that felt like an invitation to take a break from her thoughts. “I can really go for some caffeine right now. What do you say?”

Valley nodded slowly, the idea of a warm cup in her hands appealing like a cozy blanket against the chill of her lingering worries. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

As they walked towards the nearby café, her heart felt a little lighter. Each passing moment was no longer overshadowed by her earlier despair. Instead, it was filled with the promise of a cozy corner, the rich aroma of coffee, and the comfort of shared silence alongside Spencer.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped them as they entered the café, the warmth of the space wrapping around Valley like a comforting embrace. She took a moment to soak in the vibrant chatter and soft music filling the room while Spencer sauntered to the counter, casually scanning the menu with a focused look. It was both comforting and chaotic—a stark contrast to her tangled thoughts, which felt more like a storm raging within.

She chose a cozy corner table, watching as Spencer interacted with the barista, his genuine smile easily disarming. There was an odd comfort in seeing him in this setting, the slight frizz of his hair from the morning breeze framing his face perfectly. It was a breath of fresh air, a welcome distraction, but as soon as she allowed herself to relax, the weight of her earlier outburst crept back in, wrapping around her shoulders like a heavy cloak.

When Spencer returned, two steaming cups in hand, he slid one across the table. “I hope you like vanilla lattes,” he said, his eyes intent on hers, as if he were searching for something deeper in her gaze.

“Yeah, they’re great,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. She wrapped her fingers around the warmth of the cup, although the heat couldn’t quite shake the chill burdening her heart. “Thanks for getting this.”

Silence fell comfortably between them for a moment as both took sips, but Valley could feel the words swirling inside her, fighting to escape. How to explain the mess of emotions she was grappling with? The looming shadows of guilt and confusion felt too heavy to put into words. She looked down, playing with the rim of her cup, hesitating as the tension within her began to swell again.

The café bustled around them, but it felt like they were in their own little world. She gathered her resolve and steered the conversation back into a more palatable territory. “It’s… been a rough few days,” Valley confessed, gaze flickering up to meet Spencer's. “Probably more than I realized.”

Spencer nodded, his expression softening in understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said, sipping thoughtfully. But his sincerity nudged her, inviting her to share more.

“I just… I don’t know,” she continued, the words spilling out before she had the chance to stop herself. “Everything feels so overwhelming all the time. Like I’m this awful monster for feeling everything that I do.” Her voice was pained, thick with restraint. She felt like she was ripping open old wounds, exposing her vulnerability, but somehow she needed to say it. “I’m not supposed to feel this way.”

She met his gaze again, hoping to gauge his response. The kindness on his face was palpable, and it spurred her to dig deeper. “I shouldn’t be feeling…” She faltered, grasping for the right words, knowing she couldn’t bare her entire story—not yet, anyway.

Spencer leaned back in his chair, observing her with an intensity that lent the moment heavy significance. “Yes, you are,” he replied, his tone thoughtful yet firm. “You’re feeling that way because you’re human, Valley. You just don’t want to let yourself experience it.”

The earnestness in his voice struck her, and she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of uncertainty. Was he right? She felt so isolated in her struggle; had she been avoiding the very emotions that needed to surface?

“It’s tough, especially when you’ve been on your own for so long,” he continued, setting his cup down and resting his hands on the table. “When you finally start to feel things, it can be… disorienting. You want to shut it all down because you’re not used to having anyone around to help you carry that load.”

Valley felt her chest tighten. What did he know of her struggles? But as she listened, there was a sincerity in his words that struck a different chord. Spencer continued, his voice gentle yet steady. “You have people around you who care. Hotch, Derek, Penelope…” He paused, his gaze softening. “And me.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine—both surprising and warming at the same time. It felt so odd to hear someone like him, a guy she barely knew, quietly affirm her place within their team. Yet, the reality of those connections started to settle within her like a cup of warm cocoa—comforting yet rich, with the potential to carry the burden of her emotions.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you along, Valley,” he added softly, his eyes earnest. “It’s okay to let it in—whatever it is you’re feeling.”

In that moment, amidst the bustle of the café, Valley felt a flicker of hope forming—a fragile yet resilient flame in the face of her emotional storm. Maybe the world wouldn’t fall apart if she let herself feel, if she allowed the warmth of connections to seep through her guarded armor. She offered him a small, hesitant smile, recognition blooming within.

The ambiance of the café buzzed with laughter and the comforting sound of clinking dishes. Valley and Spencer shared a cozy corner table, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they recounted humorous stories from previous cases and slight mishaps on the team. She felt lighter, their laughter weaving a temporary escape from her tangled thoughts.

After sipping her vanilla latte, Valley leaned back in her chair, a grin spreading across her face. “Okay, but can we seriously talk about the time Derek tried to impress JJ by cooking?” she chuckled, barely able to contain her laughter.

“It was a terrible idea,” Spencer replied, shaking his head, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. “I think he almost started a small fire in the kitchen.”

“Exactly! And it took weeks for him to live that down,” Valley said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. The joy between them felt palpable, a warm moment that contrasted starkly with the confusion that had plagued her mind for days.

But soon, the laughter dwindled, and Valley felt a sudden wave of necessity. “I’ll be right back,” she said, rising from her seat. “Just need to use the bathroom.” As she excused herself and made her way to the back of the café, she absentmindedly left her phone on the table.

Spencer, still caught up in the lightness of their moment, momentarily lost track of time. He glanced around the bustling café, appreciating the ambiance. But soon, his gaze fell on Valley’s phone. The screen lit up with a notification, its buzz cutting through the festive noise.

Curiosity piqued, he hesitated for just a moment before reaching over to glance at her phone. The text message illuminated the screen, revealing a message from her boyfriend.

He read aloud in a low voice, a puzzled expression crossing his features. That phrase hung in the air, gnawing at him with an unsettling feeling. he muttered under his breath, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. The tone felt dismissive, almost rehearsed, like the words of someone trying to calm a storm they weren't willing to acknowledge.

Valley's absence seemed extended just then, and as the message sunk in, Spencer knew something wasn't right. As she approached, he quickly put her phone in the exact position it was in.

He returned to the light-hearted banter they had been sharing, trying to keep the atmosphere relaxed. As she slid back into her seat, a wave of warmth washed over him, grateful for the moments of laughter they had shared.

Valley glanced at her phone, her brow furrowing slightly as she noticed the notification still glowing on the screen. She quickly unlocked it, her heart dropping as she read her boyfriend’s message again. The words echoed in her mind, a reminder of the tension gnawing at the edges of her contentment.

Spencer, sensing the change in her demeanor, leaned in just a bit closer. “Hey, is something wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with genuine concern.

Her gaze flicked up from the screen, and just for a moment, vulnerability flickered in her eyes. “No, it’s fine,” she replied, her smile strained. It was a lie, but one she hoped would suffice for the moment.

The words might’ve come out easily enough, a practiced response she had become accustomed to giving. After all, she didn’t want to burden him with the complications of her life, especially when they had just managed to find this brief oasis of joy amidst their busy lives.

But underneath that response, the truth lingered— got caught up at work?

He works from home.

Spencer studied her closely, noting the way her eyes darted back to her phone as if it wielded some kind of gravitational pull, making it difficult to shake off the worry tightening around her chest.

“Okay, but if anything’s bothering you…” he started, wanting her to know he was there for her, regardless of whether she elected to share her feelings or not.

“Really, I’m fine!” she insisted, her tone almost too bright. A tiny part of her wished it was true, wished she could brush off the unease that lurked just beneath the surface.

The moment hung between them, a fragile facade of normalcy masking the swirling storm of confusion and doubt that had settled into her heart. Spencer nodded, not entirely convinced, but willing to let it go, sensing that she’d reveal more when she was ready.

Moments later, Valley glanced at her watch. “Ugh, look at the time! I can’t believe how long we’ve been here,” she said, her heart lightening as she gathered her things. “Should we head out?”

“Sure, let me grab the check,” Spencer said, rising from his chair.

Once outside, the evening sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow across the bustling street. Valley shivered slightly as a cool breeze brushed past, the air hinting at the rain that was forecasted to arrive later.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Spencer asked, gesturing toward his car parked nearby. “I wouldn’t want you out in the rain.”

She hesitated for a moment. It felt nice, being with him, yet there was a wariness that tugged at her. “Sure, that would be great,” she replied, glancing at the darkening sky.

As they settled into the car, she felt a strange comfort in their shared quiet. The engine hummed to life as Spencer pulled away from the curb, navigating the winding streets back towards Virginia. The flow of traffic seemed heavier than usual, but the atmosphere inside the vehicle was relaxed. They exchanged playful remarks and laughed over silly observations about other drivers, the ride becoming a safe foothold for their bubbling connection.

“Did you see that guy?” Spencer laughed, pointing to a driver who seemed to be oblivious to the traffic light change. “He’s been sitting there, just staring off into space!”

“Oh my god,” Valley chuckled. “I love how every once in a while, someone forgets what they’re doing in the middle of traffic.”

“It seriously makes me wanna do things that could cost me my badge and my track record,” Spencer joked, kind of.

The drive stretched forty-nine long minutes, giving them time to share even more laughter, weaving confused anecdotes and moments from their lives. Valley talked about her love for concocting bizarre recipes, recounting an unfortunate incident where she added way too much salt to her mother’s famous macaroni and cheese.

“Your family must’ve loved that,” Spencer teased, turning to her with a grin.

“Oh, they were not pleased,” she said, feigning an offended tone. “I practically made everyone drink, like, three gallons of water afterward!”

Spencer laughed heartily, and a surge of warmth washed over her. A part of her wished the drive would never end, that they’d just keep talking in this easy, flowing manner. As they crossed the Potomac River into Virginia, the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air, and the first few raindrops began to patter softly against the windshield.

Valley’s heart sank a little as the cityscape turned into the suburban familiarity of her neighborhood. The conversation had been so refreshing, and she dreaded the impending silence that would come with parting ways. It struck her that she was hesitant about the moment they would reach her driveway—the reality of the rain and the fact that they were both about to step back into their individual lives.

Spencer pulled up to her house, the comforting glow of the lights illuminating her porch. Raindrops began to fall more steadily, sending rhythmic whispers against the rooftop. As she sat in the passenger seat, she debated inviting him in. The stormy weather was a perfect excuse; it could lead to shared warmth and strolls through further conversations.

But deep down, she knew inviting him inside could complicate things further, layering the confusion that had already begun to unfurl. She didn’t want to cross a line she wasn’t ready for, nor did she want to engage in a conversation that seemed inevitable. Instead, she felt the tugging lingering doubt in her mind.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Of course,” he replied, glancing at her with those kind, patient eyes that had been listening so earnestly. “It was really good to see you today. I had fun.”

“Me too,” she said, letting a brief smile curl her lips. In that moment, their gazes locked, and she could feel an unspoken connection crackle between them, a delicate tension layered with possibility.

“Okay, well…” she hesitated, the instinct to invite him in nearly slipping out. But instead, she swallowed her feelings down, deciding on caution instead of impulse. “Get home safe, alright?”

Spencer’s brow raised slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “You too, Valley.”

“Definitely,” she said, and in that moment, part of her didn’t want to look away. But she broke the tension, unbuckling her seatbelt and grabbing her bag. The rain began to pour, cascading down in thick sheets, but she felt compelled to keep her composure as she opened the door.

“See you soon!” she managed to call over the sound of the rain before stepping out into the downpour.

“See you!” Spencer replied, his voice steady as she closed the door. He watched her squeeze her bag to her chest, her hurried footsteps splashing through puddles as she darted toward the porch.

Valley turned back briefly, giving him a fleeting smile that felt heavy with meaning, but then she pushed forward into her home, shutting the door with a soft click. Inside her house, Valley felt the familiar warmth embrace her as she closed the door against the storm outside. The murmurs of rain against the roof became a comforting backdrop, displacing the weight of the day with a snug sense of home. She stepped into the cozy living room, where her sister, Jess, sat on the couch, flipping through a magazine. Kahalani, her daughter, had already fallen asleep, curled up in a blanket, the soft rise and fall of her little chest bringing a smile to Valley’s face.

As the gentle light from the lamp nearby cast a golden hue over the room, Valley felt grateful that Jess had stepped in to help. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” she said softly, glancing at her sleeping daughter.

“Of course,” Jess replied, offering a warm smile. “I’ll always be here when you need a break. Plus, it was nice to have some quiet time with her.”

Valley joined her sister on the couch, and they shared a moment of quiet camaraderie. Valley sipped the lukewarm cup of coffee left over from earlier, staring thoughtfully at the wall where photos of Kahalani’s milestones hung. Each image captured a moment in time—the first steps, her first day of school, silly faces between smiles. Each picture was a reminder of the fleeting nature of life and how quickly these moments could pass.

"I should really get my act together," Valley murmured after a beat, her gaze focused on the images.

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Jess said, sensing her sister’s underlying tension. “You’re doing an amazing job balancing everything. Work, Kahalani, life… Dick,” “Nick?”

“We both know he's only Dick,” Valley stared at her. Hard, mostly because she knew she was right -- so she let it slide.

“Maybe I’m just feeling a little lost lately,” Valley confessed. “It seems like everything keeps changing, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

“You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed mama,” Jess reassured her. “Just take it one day at a time. It’s okay to need help sometimes.”

As the rain drummed softly on the roof, Jess and Valley cleaned up the remnants of Kahalani’s earlier craft session. They stacked colored paper and crayons, each item a testament to the creativity and chaos of childhood. After a while, Jess glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run,” she said, gathering her things. “But I’ll check in later this week, okay? If you need me tomorrow you just call me.”

“Sounds perfect,” Valley replied, grateful for Jess’s support. She watched as her sister waved goodbye and slipped out into the rain, leaving Valley alone in the hushed home.

Once the door closed behind Jess, the stillness enveloped her. Kahalani was peacefully asleep, her small body cocooned in the blanket on the couch. Valley tiptoed over, brushing a stray hair from Kahalani’s face, and felt a familiar rush of love wash over her. She couldn’t help but smile; moments like these were what made everything worthwhile.

Deciding she needed to wash away the remnants of the day, she moved to her bathroom, the cool tiles underfoot a stark contrast to the warmth of her earlier laughter with Jess. She turned on the shower, and the sound of running water blended with the rain outside, creating a soothing melody that eased her mind.

The warmth enveloped her as she stepped under the cascading water, the droplets feeling like tiny kisses against her skin. The sensation was intoxicating, a silky embrace washing over her shoulders and trickling down her back. Valley closed her eyes, letting the water envelop her in a cloud of warmth. It washed away the heaviness of the day, releasing the stress that had built up like a barricade around her heart.

She took a moment to breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of the lavender body wash that filled the air before pouring a generous amount into her palm. As she lathered it across her skin, the rich foam glided over her arms and legs, each stroke a soothing caress that melted away her unease. The heat of the water against her skin was an intoxicating balm, washing away the day’s tensions and fears. She felt herself slip deeper into a state of relaxation, the world outside fading away.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, allowing the water to cascade over her hair and down her back. The warmth seeped into her muscles, loosening the knots that had formed throughout the day. She felt a sense of peace wrap around her, cocooning her in tranquility as the water ran down her body, pooling around her feet.

After several blissful minutes, she turned off the faucet, shaking her hair slightly before reaching for a fluffy towel. The soft fabric felt divine against her skin as she dried off, the warmth lingering even when the water was gone.

Stepping into her room, Valley switched on the bedside lamp, the soft glow illuminating the space around her. She took a moment to appreciate the quiet, stillness wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. The rain continued its gentle rhythm outside, creating a sense of serenity that contrasted with her thoughts swirling through her mind.

She crawled into bed, adjusting the pillows and sinking into the comfort of the sheets. The familiar feeling enveloped her as she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling and letting her thoughts drift. She replayed the evening’s moments, from Jess’s laughter to Kahalani’s sleepy smile. As she lay there, however, her thoughts turned toward Spencer.

Just as she settled into the tranquility of the night, she felt something unusual against the surface of the pillow on Nick's side—the pillow he usually occupied when he stayed over. Curiosity hitting her like a flash, she turned toward it, reaching out instinctively.

As her fingers grazed the fabric, she froze. A cold rush flooded her as she pulled the item free.

It was a bra—definitely not hers.

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART EIGHT: INSOMNIA 

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Fluff, Smut

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

Several hours later…

A few hours had passed and, as expected, you could not sleep. You were laying in an empty bed which was much larger than the one you slept in at home.

The room you were in was lacking décor and you felt rather out of place in Cillian’s home, although you appreciated his offer of letting you stay.

Clearly, he cared for you and your wellbeing, which was more than James ever did but, if Cillian had known that you were still really attracted to him, would he have felt the same way about you sleeping in the room right next to his?

Probably not and, luckily for you, he seemed oblivious to the fact that you wanted to be with him. Right now, he was probably fast asleep, in the bed you shared that very first night you met and this, itself, made you wonder whether you would ever get a chance to repeat your sexual encounter with him.

You knew that you had to stop thinking that way though. He was much older than you. He was twice your age to be exact, although he did not know this yet. You had lied to him and, whilst you made several attempts to reveal the truth, you never got there in the end.

You felt guilty about it, of course, but your want and need to be with him outweighed those feelings of guilt which, at least for now, were just one of those many things that kept you awake.

Thus, until one o’clock, you tossed and turned and, in the end, you decided to get up to get yourself a glass of water and, since you did not know the location of the many light switches in Cillian’s apartment, you relied on the flashlight of your phone to find your way to the kitchen.

Barefooted, you tippy toad through the hallway and across the living until, eventually, you approached the kitchen aisle only to find Cillian standing there as well.

He had the same idea. He was getting himself a glass of water straight from the tap and clearly did not notice you until you stammered out a reluctant “hi” from behind where he was standing.

“Jesus” was what he spat in response. You startled him and, just when he turned around abruptly , you dropped your phone to the ground which, luckily for you, did not crack.

“You scared the hell out of me” Cillian then said while, in the process of his sudden movement, spilling his water onto your shirt.  

“Fuck that’s cold” you gasped almost instantly before lifting the wet fabric up slightly.

“I am so sorry. Let me get you a dry shirt” Cillian then told you and, just as he did, you shook your head.

“It’s fine. It’s just water. It will dry off” you responded before asking him what he was doing up so late.

“I couldn’t sleep” he said. “How about you?” he then wanted to know while looking at his watch and realising that it was one o’clock already.

“Neither could I” you told him before reaching for one of the clean glasses on the side of the sink and filling it up with water.

“Well, you’ve got a lot on so that’s understandable” Cillian acknowledged but your troubles were not what was on your mind right now.

“I wasn’t thinking about James or the picture he shared. In fact, I’ve put my mind at ease about it now. There is not much more that he can do. I am safe here and I’ll go to the police tomorrow and hopefully that will be the end of it” you explained, causing Cillian to enquire further.

“So, if not James, what is keeping you up then?” Cillian wanted to know and, if it wasn’t so dark, he would have seen you blush by now.

“You are” you stammered in response causing Cillian’s chin to drop.

“I am? How?” he asked. He was oblivious to the fact that you still had a mad crush on him ever since your one-night stand together.

“I just can’t forget about the night we shared and knowing that you are in the room next to mine, like this, drives me a little crazy to be honest” you swallowed harshly in response while looking at him. He was wearing nothing but a black pair of Calvin Klein briefs and this, in itself, was a huge turn on for you and you knew that, now or never, you had to take your chance with him.

“Y/N, we talked about this. You know we can’t…” was all that, eventually, escaped from his lips in a stammer while his eyes were fixated on your mouth as you spoke.

“Tell me that you don’t want me too, Cillian” you interrupted mid sentence. “ I can see the way you look at me every day” you then told him while Cillian tried to move his eyes away from your lips which, by now, you knew he wanted to kiss.

“I am more than fifteen years older than you and I am your lecturer now, so it doesn’t matter what I want. Despite, you are probably just emotional right now and the last thing I want is to take advantage of you in the state you are in” Cillian told you while you continued to stare at him almost seductively. Even despite the lack of light in Cillian’s kitchen now, you were noticing that those wide pools of shimmering blue were definitely more wanting now than they were a little while ago and this gave you the courage to say what you were going to say next.

“I know that you are older than me and I know that you are my teacher. It is inconvenient, yes, but it is not illegal. I am not going to tell anyone” you said with your breath short and fast now, and when your eyes dropped to his mouth, you bit down on your lip.

“Y/N…” Cillian immediately attempted to say but you were not finished with your argument just yet, so you cut him off once again.

“You are not taking advantage of me Cillian. I am emotional, yes, but I also know what I want” you told him and, just like that, you both snapped.

Simultaneously, you leaned into each other and your lips collided almost painfully.

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Cillian’s hands grabbed your hips, holding you closer and feeling your breathing hitch by the sudden motion until, suddenly, you he pulled away again slightly.

“I am not ready for another relationship Y/N. I am not even divorced yet and I…” Cillian then began to say almost reluctantly, causing you to smile.

“Neither am I, trust me. I just want to have a little fun and we already slept with each other, so…” you chuckled before your mouths collided again almost desperately again although, this time, it was Cillian who cut you off with his lips while your arms went up and around his neck, clinging on to him.

“This can be our little secret” you then moaned and giggled against his lips while he eagerly slid his hands down your body to your arse, lifting you up slightly.

“No one can know about this Y/N. Absolutely no one!” Cillian then murmured against your lips, causing you to smile and, then your legs tied around his waist.

“My lips are sealed” you gasped just as you brought your hands around to hold his head before pushing your mouth further into his, exploring and tasting his tongue.

The soft moan you released from your throat made Cillian’s body tremble. His knees were weakening and his cock began to harden and lengthen.

“I need you Cillian” you then gasped as you kissed your way down Cillian’s face, to his neck and his throat, inhaling deeply once you got there.

You felt perfect in his arms, so perfect, in fact, that he almost wanted to walk in circles with you for hours, just to prolong the feeling of having you in his arms like this, your face cradled in the crook of his neck, your fingers deep in his hair.

Eventually, Cillian dropped his mouth to your shoulder and bit there softly, which caused you to moan louder. Then, bringing his mouth back to yours, he moved you to one of the concrete pillars inside his apartment, which is where he settled your back against it.

“You are so fucking perfect” Cillian whispered as he reached for your ass in order to massage it softly and, in response, you pulled his mouth towards yours once again before resting your head back against the wall. You moaned and gave into the pleasure, breathing fast, cheeks flushed, eyes on fire.

“Tell me to stop” Cillian then said as he moved his hand over the cotton shorts you were wearing. They were his and too big on you, but somehow he thought that you wearing his clothes was incredibly sexy.

Then, since you said nothing, Cillian’s hand slipped under the waist band by your hip and brought them down to your knees with one movement while, all at the same time, you discarded your wet t-shirt in a haste.

“If you want me to stop…” he then repeated once more, knowing deep down inside that he should not proceed with this. He had second thoughts and knew that he should not pursue you but he wanted you nonetheless.

“Do you want to stop?” you cut him off in response, with your breath soft and shallow before your tongue darted out to spread wetness along your bottom lip.

“No and, even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. You have been driving me crazy Y/N” Cillian said gently before leaning in to kiss you again, biting your lip gently, which is when your hands gripped his shoulders hard as he finally ripped the shorts off your body.

You gasped in shock, tensing slightly, but when Cillian placed his hand between your legs, your whole body relaxed, surrendering to him.

You were hot, wet and soft and you Cillian’s name fell from your lips before your head dropped back against the wall and your eyes closed over.

“Cillian, please. I need you inside of me” you moaned as heat was running through your belly, urgent, painful, like a steady electric current, radiating out from your core, already slick with want and need.

‘Needy, are we?’ Cillian chuckled and you nodded.

“Very” you moaned while grinding your naked body against his.

‘Perhaps I should teach you some patience” Cillian said teasingly as his lips moved to your throat again while you desperately tried to reach for his briefs.

“Or perhaps you could just give me what I want” you teased as you began biting Cillian’s ear all the whilst he buried his face in to your chest.

‘Should I just?” Cillian then groaned while lifting you up again until he could bite at your breast gently.

‘Yes…please…stop teasing and fuck me already’ you moaned out breath heavy like a horse at the races, sweat already dripping from you both. By this point, you could also already feel the head of Cillian’s cock pushing against you and a sense of electricity shot upward through your belly and into your chest.  He was ready and had pushed his briefs down without you noticing, just wanting to tease you now.

‘As you wish” Cillian chuckled as then, all so suddenly, he pushed his entire length into you with one firm stroke.

You gasped and shrieked with surprise before you tightened your legs around him and he pulled out slightly and started the steady rhythm, muscles flexing under your touch. He gave you no time to adjust and the way you made love that night was primal and animalistic to say the least.

‘Fuck you are tight’ Cillian groaned as he kept on thrusting into you while kissing your neck.

‘Oh god. Fuck. That feels so good’ you moaned in response as you pulled his head back harshly, using the fingers that were already tangled up in his hair, causing him to hiss in discomfort.

‘But I want you to fuck me harder’ you then smirked before lowering your legs forcefully against his grip and pushing him away from you with ease, teasing him. Seeing that you were a dancer, you had great physical strength and, yet, he knew how to use his in a whole different way than you.

‘Harder, huh?’ Cillian chuckled before reaching for your hips again and spinning you around.

‘Yes. Harder’ you gasped as your hands landed flat on the concrete in front of you and Cillian pulled you back towards him again before entering you from behind.

“Alright, harder it is” Cillian said with determination. He was dominant, but not forceful like James. He was passionate and caring, full of lust and desire for you, telling you over and over again how fucking perfect you were as he took from you behind.

‘Oh god, yes” you moaned helplessly as he thrusted into you faster now, hitting that very sweet spot of yours which he had already discovered during the first time you had sex with him.

‘You feel so fucking incredible’ Cillian groaned before his hand slipped around your waist and his long fingers soon found your clit. Gently, he circled your soft spot while thrusting in and out of you, hard and deep, making your legs quiver.

“God, yes! Cillian! Fuck” you wailed and the sound of your voice screaming his name sounded alien to you. Not inhuman, just like an entirely different person. It did not sound like you.

And then there was everything else. The sound he made as he thrusted into you, the scent of him, so utterly, unlike James in every way, made you feel, apart from the moment. But incredible and desired nonetheless.

It was an out of body experience for you and you felt dizzy and faint, your brain about ready to break apart.

Pushing you against the cold concrete wall, he continued to move in deep, long strokes inside you, powerful thrusts which threatened to split you wide open.

He felt so warm and comfortable, like a deep, deep itch that is finally being scratched.

It felt soothing. He felt soothing and, eventually, he whispered into your ear again.

“I want to see your beautiful face when you cum” Cillian then told you nonetheless, knowing that you were close. You were contracting and shivering, moaning louder and louder.

Thus, you span around and found his mouth again, kissing him passionately before, slowly, you felt your insides begin to throb and vibrate, and as though he was responding to it, he quickened his pace faster and deeper, harder, rougher.

Deep male groans were ripping from Cillian’s throat on each inward push, your inside scattering a little more.

His teeth scraped at your lips, his tongue was licking your mouth, fighting, setting, growling.

Greedy, desperate motions that tell you that, he too, was on the verge of losing control of this.

And then, suddenly, and shockingly, you felt your own orgasm hit you hard like freight train.

There was no warning for it. It was quick and unexpected, and you pushed against him, but it was not to push him away. It was to intensify the friction between your bodies, the delicious agony that was his cock deep inside you, overwhelming you.

“Cillian! Oh god!” you moaned as the white, hot pleasure washed over you and you gripped onto his shoulders. Your nails were digging into the flesh and you pushed against him harder.

Then, you opened your eyes to find him watching you transfixed, his body still moving rhythmically into and against your own, but completely focused on your climax and then, you finally felt it.

His entire body tensed and began to shudder, trembling with the rise of his own orgasm.

With one hand wrapped almost possessiveness around your neck, you felt a shudder run through his whole body.

“Fuck” Cillian groaned as he pulled your head towards him and smashed his mouth against you to kiss you again all while he emptied himself inside your body.

For a moment, you were panting against each other's mouth, licking each other's tongues, fighting each others' lips. His orgasm seemed to have lasted hours. Hours of him saying no words, hours of you moaning to the feel it of it all.  Hours of him throbbing inside you, comfortable and warm.

Then, he settled so deeply inside you, so snugly that it scared you a little, thinking about how empty you would feel when he leaves you.

As his body and breathing slowed, he broke away from your mouth and let his eyes to meet yours.

His blue eyes glittered with lust and satisfaction, but almost instantly, his expression changed. The look that comes over his face, then was horror.

“Fuck Y/N, what’s the matter?” he then asked, afraid. “Why are you crying?” he wanted to know, thinking that he had hurt you.

He then went to withdraw from you, but you tightened your thighs around his body to hold him inside you.

“No don’t” you told him, still crying. Crying? What the hell. Why were you crying anyway?

Without saying anything else, you leaned forward and pressed your mouth gently to his, hoping that he would know that you enjoyed every moment of this.

“I am fine Cillian” you then reassured him before trying a weak smile and lowering your head to bury your face in his neck. His intoxicating scent seemed to be the strongest there, cleanliness and cotton with a masculine, sweet undertone. Just fucking perfect, until…

“Did I hurt you?” Cillian wanted to know with his voice scratchy and raw with fear. ”Fuck Y/N, please tell me I didn't hurt you” he went on to say in panic and you quickly shook your head.

“No, you did not hurt me. In fact, I never felt less hurt in my life. I feel safe with you, safer than I ever felt before and what we just shared was amazing” you told him with watery eyes as you well and truly felt soothed, especially with him still inside you, large and warm.

“Then why are you crying?” he asked with worry still on his mind. His voice was soft against the skin on your neck and his Irish accent was always that little bit stronger when his voice was in the lowest decibels.

“I suppose because I feel incredible right now” you told him before you kissed the side of his neck, delighting in the warm spread of his salty skin across your tongue.

“So these are happy tears then?” he ought to clarify and you nodded with a smile.

“Defiantly” you chuckled and Cillian let out a deep breath and then stepped away from the wall, shifting his grip on you to give him a better, more secure hold of your body.

Then still buried inside you, Cillian stepped carefully out of his discarded briefs and walked with you in his arms toward his bedroom, taking the three steps with a strong, easy grace.

As you got to his bed you were wondering what he was going to do now, not quite ready for him to leave your body.

To your relief, he angled you both down onto his bed, you on your back and him on his knees above you.

As he did this, you opened your eyes, taking this moment to look at Cillian’s face. His flawless, beautiful, perfect face. Each feature, seemingly constructed to be worshipped, a mouth so beautiful and inviting that you had no real chance against it.

And then there were his eyes, which had haunted you every waking moment since you first looked into them. Large, inviting pools of intensity that made you feel like the only woman he had ever been remotely interested in looking out with them.

You truly never seen a man as beautiful before. Beauty, he seems to be mainly unaware of. A fact which only serves to make him even more beautiful, in your opinion.

“You are something else Cillian. Fuck. I need you” you whispered as he pulled the hem of his t-shirt to lift it over his head and then he stopped moving and smiled down at you.

‘Is that your line to get me into bed’ he joked and you both broke out in laughter.

“Maybe it is” you joked before covering your mouth with the back of your hand before nodding up at him.

“I suppose I am so fucking easy then” he chuckled before slowly releasing himself from your body and ,immediately, you felt cold and a little lost from the absence of him.

The sight of his naked form above you helped make up for it somewhat, but not enough until, suddenly, Cillian lifts your left leg and proceeds to kiss his way from the instep of your foot to your upper thigh.

When he reached the apex, he glanced down at you with an intense look on his face.

“You are so incredibly beautiful Y/N” he then said before he proceeds to tackle the top of your father, skimming his cheek over it before planting a kiss on it, his mouth dangerously close to where you needed it.

“I need to know what we taste like, together” he then told you and your eyes shot open wide.

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[visenyaism]

i'm desperately interested in your lannister in the walls symbolism essay if that's something you would like to share

you know what i would. like all my summer 2022 notes app archival material it is both deranged and very informal. but i had just read cersei i affc for the very first time and i was convinced i was cooking something up. Here’s the intro the rest of it is under the cut so it’s not a scrolling nightmare:

so my like big tinfoil theory ab this so far is that the walls and tunnels of kings landing represent like the cataclysmic institutional rot that will destroy the city because said rot is also the truth of it. The little birds who convey the truth to varys while also representing how fucked up this place is because they’re child servants with their tongues cut out. Also like how the doom of valyria was in its walls because the enslaved were literally in there and bc that evil was institutional. Also like the rot that consumed tywin lannister whole cause he’s kings landing in microcosm or whatever. the doom of kings landing is quite literally in the walls cause of the wildfire, and because it’s wildfire it is also LITERALLY the doom of valyria. Just like the Doom was a lot of fireworks but it’s real downfall was the true extent of its rot filling every space in the walls and under the empire, the walls and tunnels of KL are also the Lannister Cognitive Dissonance Basement.

Tywin’s Hypocrite Tunnel reveals the truth of who he was the entire time. Tyrion learns the worst truth of his life in the tunnels, and then comes up thru the Hypocrite tunnel to kill his dad and also he decides to be evil while he’s down there because he thinks that’s the truth about himself, that the rot is also his. But that’s like our mini doom of valyria, that everything tywin hated about himself as well as the people he wronged he shoved underneath the city until it came up and explosively killed him.

Cersei starts her flop for crows arc by in tandem refusing to go into the tunnel or think abt its purpose while refusing to acknowledge any of her father’s flaws. The Tyrion in her head that’s taunting her about being in the walls is the same voice that’s confronting her abt the truth she is repressing abt her father. She knows her doom is in the walls and under the city, but she thinks it’s tyrion when actually it’s the threat of every single truth she has ever repressed to form her delusional worldview coming back to destroy her (the truth that the rot is hollow and pursuit of tywin’s kind of power means nothing but self destruction and also that her mirror was the one who might kill her and not the brother she thinks is different from her in every way). I dont think shes going into the walls until it’s time for her to blow the city up tbh. apocalypse!!!!

Side note: the tyrion in her head being cersei especially is so. like for the past three books we have been told that cersei lannister’s main trait is her pride and vanity. and then you get to her first POV and it’s immediately clear that everything she hates about herself, her father, and the world she attributes to tyrion and everything she likes about herself she assigns to something she inherited from her father, something jaime should be, or both. queenhood and womanhood and her own body are just coffins her family has stuffed her in to fit their own needs. For cersei, the body is a construct just like the Red Keep is, and it is a prison!!! it’s the cage they kept the lions in under Casterly!!! The power she’s constantly chasing after is just the ability to be taken seriously in her own right, respected as a person and not a woman (which to her are antonyms). What presents as her pride and vanity from the outside is actually just a constant battle against the reality that cersei lannister doesn’t really exist because she has absolutely no stable sense of identity and is just as empty as the rest of her family!!!!

Back to the walls: Jaime has a running theme where he can only speak or think the truth if he’s underground, like harrenhal bath moment or taunting catelyn abt bran and the incest in the riverrun dungeon or telling tyrion about tysha in the black cells or his dream in the cave with brienne where he’s like it’s dark out so i can tell the truth abt her being a beauty and a knight. It’s the same with the tunnels. He starts HIS flop for crows arc going in first to the Tywin Hypocrite Tunnel, and has to confront the truth that he doesn’t actually know his brother like he thought he did, or his sister, or his father, or himself really. Also that he’s kind of responsible for their father’s murder. ALSO he finds a dragon mosaic that he thinks is rhaegar, telling him “I know you, kingslayer.” He has SO many repressed truths come up in this tunnel, but he just comes out and is like lol who knows what’s down there not me whoever did this could still be down there look out.

Not that it would’ve been smart to tell Cersei the truth, but it definitely indicates that during Jaime’s feast arc he will not be confronting anything unpleasant because he doesn’t want to. Pushing the truth of yourself away and into the walls and under the city means you can be somewhere (the red keep) without really being there at all, which I think is the connection to Jaime’s dependence on dissociation and going away inside and his relationship to institutions. The details of why he didn’t say anything about the wildfire aren’t super clear but I think him hunting the pyromancers but leaving wildfire in the walls is representative of the fact that on some level deep down he believes in false knighthood, that you really can solve institutional rot if you are Good, if you do enough Heroic Sword Violence to the right people. Lady Stoneheart is in a cave or something I think so that’s his big underground inability to repress anymore-related downfall looming.

So anyway TLDR: Cersei’s right, there’s something those walls and under the city that’s going to destroy them all. It’s not tyrion lurking, but like the irrepressible truth that the rot and evil at the heart of the red keep has eaten it whole, and that the Lannister legacy and conception of power propped up by violence and intimidation is just hollow. That’ll get them because that singular truth is enough to crumple everyone’s self-concept and is too much to overcome even with the Lannister dedication to cognitive dissonance. Which is why I think Cersei blows it up when she gets to the point where she cannot lie to herself abt shit anymore. If twow drops and actually joncon ends up starting the Great King’s Landing BBQ of 301 AC i actually didn’t say any of this😌