#why am i shouting...? to clear my head ^^

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian pressed an ice pack to his swollen eye, the aftermath of a dodgeball incident at school earlier that day. The gym teacher had thrown the ball at him for "asking too many questions"—except they weren't even playing dodgeball! Frustrated, he stewed over his options, realizing he couldn’t handle this alone; if he involved his brothers, they might end up getting arrested.

Damian (talking to himself, realization dawning): Wait a minute, my parents don’t even know how awful this gym teacher is! I’ve never told them, but that’s… not right. They should know, or this failed track star nut case will keep getting away with it. I can’t let this swollen eye be for nothing!

With a sigh, Damian removed the ice pack and pulled out his phone.

Damian (while snapping a picture of his injury): I hope they’re not disappointed in me for not fighting back.

He quickly sent the picture to both his mother and father in separate texts, captioned: Look what the gym teacher, Coach Marley did to me.

Talia, upon seeing the picture, spluttered tea all over her living room couch in shock. Her face turned an irate shade of red as she trembled with rage.

Talia: Oh, hell no!

Without a moment’s hesitation, she bolted from her seat, hopped onto a jet, and flew toward Gotham. Meanwhile, Bruce’s reaction was more restrained, though he nearly crushed his phone with his grip.

Tim (calmly, carefully taking the phone from Bruce): Bruce… Bruce, you need to breathe. Give me the phone; let’s keep this evidence.

Bruce growled in frustration but managed to take a deep breath, clearing his throat to contain his fury. School was closed, and it was too soon to go storming in.

Bruce: I need a night to work through this rage. If I go to the school now, I am going to shout a lot of hurtful things in her face because I can't hit a them!

Tim: That’s probably for the best. Do you need any of us to step in?

Bruce: No, I’ll handle this… but I have to call Talia. Damn it.

Tim: Do what you gotta do.

The next morning in her office, Principal Lynn sipped her coffee, reviewing reports, when she heard the sharp clacking of heels approaching. Suddenly, her door was kicked in, and Talia stormed inside, dragging the gym teacher along with her and tossing her onto the floor. The teacher barely appeared conscious and was crying heavily, bruised and battered.

Talia (pointing fiercely at the gym teacher): Explain to me why this harlot has been abusing my child and getting away with it!

Principal Lynn: I—

Talia (raising her voice): I paid you a significant amount to keep my son at this school, and you allowed her to throw dodgeballs at my child for talking?! Explain yourself, knavess!

Principal Lynn: Um, I can explain—

Just then, Bruce arrived, catching his breath as he took in the chaotic scene before him: the gym teacher on the floor, Talia standing over her, and Principal Lynn looking terrified.

Bruce: That… that harlot needs to be fired and arrested!

Talia: Thank you!

Principal Lynn: Right, on it. I’ll call the cops. Just don’t hurt me like you hurt her!

Talia: Call the cops, then!

Nervously, Principal Lynn grabbed the landline phone and dialed 911 while the gym teacher attempted to scramble to her feet. Talia, quick as a flash, delivered a punch to the teacher’s head, sending her crashing down again.

[charleslee-valentine]

Save Some Christmas Cheer

warnings: physical and emotional abuse, hitting, cruelty, drayton sawyer as a warning, one very mild sex joke.

~~~~~~~

Every December, Drayton drives a dinky evergreen out to the gas station and ties it to the sign post, lets the twins come down and fancy it up with some thrifted ornaments and tinsel. Gotta make the place lively.

Thought that would appease their appetite for the festivity afterall. They wasn’t raised with it, not even he had experienced it when they still had Grandpa’s income to throw a holiday off of, so he never figured the boys would be all that interested. Their grandparents thought it best to raise ‘em without that kind of luxury, too much of makin’ spoilt ‘n greedy kids all over. But, them younger brothers of his been growin’ up in the age of radio and now seein’ the rise of television. No hidin’ the spirit from them now.

It’s Nubbins, crouched by the annual gas station tree as he digs through what little they got to adorn it with, evidently disappointed by it, that asks him first, “W-Why can’t we does Chrim-sis a-at home?”

“Used to. Can’t afford it.” Is the simplified brunt Drayton gives him. He’s busy puffin’ on a cigarette and attemptin’ to contain the mess his brothers is makin’ ‘fore it might affect the station’s appearance.

That ain’t satisfactory. Them boys is curious as cats, but with even less sense. Nubbins tilts his head sideways, “How come?”

Drayton flicks the cigarette butt at him and watches it bounce off of Nubbins bony back, leavin’ little glowin’ ashes in its wake. It’s himself who brushes it off ‘fore those can leave burn puckers on the boy’s good jacket, despite the paint and mud on it. But that quick act of caution turns to a whack on the back of his head and a scold quickly, “‘Cause you lot are expensive enough without gettin’ presents or some big fancy meal!!”

“But y-you does it here.” Bobby chimes in for his silenced twin from the other side of the tree. Ornery bastards finishin’ each other’s complaints even.

Drayton straightens himself out when a car drives past, in the case it’d stop, but it whips right past so he marches over to Bobby, “Can’t have my customers thinkin’ I ain’t an honest Christian business man!”

‘Course, Bobby ain’t as punched down as his brothers, or just ain’t well behaved. He snorts at Drayton’s remark, “You ain’t one.”

“I am!” Drayton draws his hand back to swing at Bobby’s face, but Nubbins interrupts with a shout.

“Since when! Y-You doesn’t go to church!”

Now he’s caught in between them and just frozen up with balled fists. Can’t beat ‘em both at once, so he concedes, somewhat, “Don’t need to. The Lord and I handle our business privately.”

Bobby cackles a laugh at somethin’ that ain’t immediately clear, ‘til he shares the joke that lived in his flighty head, “‘Way you said that m-makes it sound like you and J-Jesus is been bumpin’ nasties!”

A year in the service was plenty enough to break down the values Drayton instilled in his kid brothers, exposin’ horrible nerves he hoped would never have to be plucked with ‘em. They was all to be kept in the dark of certain ways, but then them military boys taught Robert all the sins in the book, and he just had to come home and share the news. Lucky they don’t got a clue what the hell he's talkin’ when he starts up, but as Drayton would like to keep it that way, despite the hiccups, that’s one matter that ain’t never go unpunished.

Bobby gets a sharp whack across his face, and another to his back when he hunches over, “Watch your mouth around your brother, damn it!!”

“Owww!” He whines all overplayed and obnoxious. Givin’ Drayton a damned headache already. So he gets a kick to his calf and falls to that knee.

“Then behave yourself!” Drayton warns, looming over, “Actin’ like none of you ever grew up! If there were such a thing as Christmas in this family, you boys wouldn’t deserve a damn thing!”

Nubbins scrunches his face, confusion and judgement and frustration tied together, “Why would we b-be good if we ain’t go-gonna get presents a-anyway?”

Bobby, rubbin’ the hand mark that’s making its way to his pale cheek, slowly rising to his feet again, agrees, always agrees with Nubbins, “Yeah! I-I-If you was ever nice to us, we'd be- be good!”

That one sentence sits heavy in Drayton’s bones all day and night. For the next week it just plays over and over in his head, thinkin’ ‘bout how he’d failed them kids. Christmas be damned, all year round, for the last forty some years they been here, he ain’t never been kind. Their mama was his lousy mama and their papa walked out. He had to be the parent all along.

To his knowledge, it wasn’t natural to be soft on ‘em. Gotta raise ‘em with a firm hand and all. And Bobby’s right he ain’t no church goin’ man, but he knows you ain’t s’posed to spare the rod. Nobody ever spared him none, pickin’ switches out the bushes and takin’ his beatins.

So then, why’s guilt stickin’ to him so bad just cause the boys said they act out ‘cause of his choices. Why’s he know it’s right, that they ain’t been showed enough mercy and kindness to practice it.

They cut into another corpse at supper, and he knows this is all his fault, and suddenly the meat tastes a lot less like pork, and a lot more like an elderly couple or a mother down the road. Lord, he’s damned them all to Hell. No guardin’ them from sin could change that, ‘cause they was born to it, raised with blood under their nails before they even knew what love was. Somethin’ they prob’ly still don’t know.

He’s gone quiet again, though he tries to focus on workin’ ‘stead of thinkin’, peelin’ potatoes to go with roast school teacher out in the kitchen, when he gets ambushed. Confronted again by the reality he caused.

“Hey! H-Hey cook, what’chya cook?” It’s an innocent question from Bobby, but Drayton’s so deep in his own remorse he can’t gather an intelligible response.

With Drayton being so tense lately, the boys have caught on. Nubbins catches up to his twin and immediately scolds him for bein’ a bother, “Bobby, ya stupid, d-don’t call ‘im cook no more!”

“Oh yeh. F-Forgot he won’t feed us n-no more ‘til we p-‘preciate ‘im.” Bobby repeats Drayton’s reasoning for the last beating they got, with monotone sarcasm, and a whispered comment tacked on the end, rolls his eyes and pouts, “Stupid rule if ya ask me.”

“N-Nobody did asked you!!” Nubbins counters, the hunch of his shoulders anxious but the crone of his voice angry. All on edge.

They make to start a slapping fight, drawing back and all, Bobby yelling after a second to stew on his answer, “Shut up!”

All the ruckus is more than familiar in this house, but when the boys accidentally smash into the kitchen door, banging the brass knob into the plaster, it causes Drayton to startle. The knife in his hand slips across his fingertips and suddenly he’s bleedin’ all over the potatoes m.

“That’s enough!” He shouts his throat raw on just the one command, both twins whipping their heads around to stare with wide eyes. With their attention, he gives them another order. A heavy sigh out of his nose and he’s able to speak a little more clearly to bark the next order, “Go set the damn table.”

Both boys are trippin’ over each other to get the dishes and glasses for supper, before splittin’ up to do different tasks. Drayton meanwhile has to either salvage what’s left of the non-bloody potatoes or forget about it entirely. Guess it wouldn’t be such a big deal to feed ‘em contaminated food, but lord only knows what’s in his blood after all these years. Might end up givin’ the boys a nicotine addiction like himself.

He scraps it all instead. Trashes good food. If he weren’t so out of his mind with regret he’d be beatin’ them twins within an inch of their lives. Lord knows they deserve it.

And yet, he sits down to half a supper and murmurs in good spirits, “Been thinkin’.”

The twins, Nubbins next to him and Bobby at the end of the table, exchange a look. Nubbins snickers, “Th-That ain’t n-never good.”

Drayton does his best not to boil over with anger already, glaring with disappointment at them, “Guess you don’t wanna hear the good news then?”

“You lyin’. You don’t never got g-good news.” Bobby snarks, givin’ another heavy eye roll.

“Since y’all was askin’ up on Christmas I just thought- but oh, no.. no. You’re right, this cain’t possibly be good news.” Giving a dramatic sigh, Drayton plays the manipulation game to get them on their best behavior, in part so his frustration can cool off.

“What?” Nubbins probes, but Drayton stays firm and just shakes his head. So he presses again, fiddling with his hands, “W-What? Tell us!”

Both twins start chanting asking to be told, rallying their little brother into their obnoxious repetition,

“Bubba you tell ‘im too!”

Now Bubba is squealing like a downright hog, too much noise at the supper table that ain’t caused by some wailing stranger. Drayton covers his ears.

“I’ll change my mind!” That threat makes them all go quiet, so dead set on hearing the good news they aren’t willing to risk the chance. Drayton sighs and shrinks down, “Figured there wouldn’t be no hurt in ‘llowin’ y’all to make pretend like it’s Christmas. Don’t think y’all gonna get nothin’ special now, but I ain’t past lettin’ y’all put up a tree or two in the fields.”

“And l-let us watch a Christmas movie?” Bobby demands.

Drayton is skeptical, narrowing his eyes, “How the hell you gonna do that when we ain’t got a television? You fixin’ to pay for it?”

Bobby shakes his head, long wig hairs flying side to side over his face, “Nah. B-But I still knows how to drive. I-I can take us to a real theater.”

That sounds like his own worst nightmare. Drayton scolds the thought, slamming a hand down, “Hell no! I ain’t lettin’ you run off in charge of your brothers!”

That seems to have been counted on, actually, ‘cause Bobby elbows Nubbins next to him enthusiastically, and smiles all wide, “Then y-you gotta take us. And we get to- to bake stuff and wear funny outfits.”

“How the hell you know so much ‘bout this holiday anyhow?” Drayton narrows his eyes at his brother, don’t see why he’s demandin’ so much.

“Uh, I listen to the radio. D-Duh!” Bobby’s tone implies all kinds of things he ain’t ‘llowed to think, mostly that he finds his older brother dumb and annoying.

He does get punished for that outburst. Might’ve got off easy for the mess in the kitchen, but Drayton won’t ‘llow that kind of back talk ‘round the house. Gave up enough control to let them have a holiday at all, can’t just abandon all order ‘n let the boys behave however they’d like. Would be livin’ in ruin.

And it’s a damn good thing, ‘cause then they’re all three on their best behavior ‘til the 25th, goin’ through Bobby’s informed checklists about how to go along with the big day. Ain’t acted out majorly once.

Only he don’t know that’s ‘cause they’re savin’ up for one big mess up.

In the upstairs hallway, hunched together by the window that starts the nook where Drayton’s room hides, the twins conspire on Christmas morning.

“Who’s gonna do it?” Bobby whispers it, catching up on the plan they made, but maybe just a little nervous.

Nubbins looks at his brother like he said somethin’ in gibberish, “Ain’t you?”

Dragging his brother by the sleeve of his shirt down away from Drayton’s room, Bobby raises his voice, “Hell no, man! H-He gonna kick my ass if I do it!”

“I don’t want b-beat up neither!” Nubbins squeaks back in equal defense.

“You won’t, h-he ain’t mad a-at you yet!” Bobby counters, but his tone ain’t so sure. Can’t hide a thing from his twin.

For all the fighting they do, lookin’ out for each other is the half of it. Pushin’ when the other don’t think it’s a good idea, back ‘n forth ‘til they come up with somethin’ better. Their plan usually ends up shoulderin’ the blame onto someone else.

It’s Nubbins that puts it into motion, “Bubba could- he could do it.”

Bobby thinks hard on it, passing his tongue over his teeth a few times in thought, “That- That’s good. Yeh, cook don’t get m-mad at Bubba so much ‘less he’s really bad.”

His brother agreein’ to his plan makes Nubbins smile big, but it falls fast when a thought occurs to him, “Is wakin’ big brother up counts as r-really bad?”

“We gonna find out!” Bobby slaps his twins’ shoulder excitedly, bolting down to the half-way point on the nearest set of steps and calling down, more than adjusted by now to the amount of noise he can get away with makin’, “Hey, Leatherface! G-Get up here!”

They hear him comin’ ‘fore they see ‘im, bumbling steps creaking each floorboard and stair. Bubba tries to walk on his toes to be quiet, but he’s so big and the house so old there ain’t much hope. Lucky their big brother can sleep through at least some volume.

Nubbins coaxes him up closer, so they can talk quiet, “Bubba, hey, y-you like Chrim-sis too, right?”

‘Course Bubba gets a crooked smile and shakes his head up and down. Been excited as hell every night since big brother announced they was allowed, the only one that ain’t participated in fancyin’ up the gas station for Christmas. Can’t really bring him ‘round there with his masks and all.

They take advantage of that excitement to get him to go along with their scheme, Bobby coaxing, “Right. S-So you wants to give big brother th-the presents we made ‘im?”

Bubba nods again, but it’s less excited. No matter what the twins think, he knows they’re putting him up to somethin’. It’s just a matter of what they’re gonna make him do. But he still doesn’t make a peep when the twins walk him down the hall, though the closer they get to Drayton’s shut door, the fidgetier he gets with his hands.

Right outside, Nubbins yanks the door open and Bobby gives Bubba a hearty shove and an order, “Then get on in there!”

They weren’t strong enough to move their baby brother an inch further into that room with a push, but their persuasion and the Christmas spirit alone could do the task.

Ain’t sure exactly how Bubba chooses to do it, but the twins hear all hell start to break loose and take off running. That’s a part of their plan too. Didn’t figure the old man would wake up too peacefully, so they’s gonna let Bubba lead chase for their little Christmas morning surprise.

Admittedly, they do feel kinda bad ‘bout the few whacks they hear impacting their baby brother on the way, but that’s how it goes. At least Bubba’s size means he’s a hell of a lot faster’n Drayton in stride, makin’ it to the back sittin’ room where they got permission to put the tree up and hidin’ behind the twins long before their red-faced, heavin’ big brother makes it ‘round the corner.

Seeing them all three huddled together, Drayton knows they’re up to something, skidding to a sudden stop, “What the hell is all this now?”

“It’s y-your merry Chrim-sis!” Nubbins informs him while his brothers produce their gift and hand it over.

Drayton turns the gift over and over in his hands but doesn’t say a word. Starts gettin’ the boys a little nervous.

Bobby prompts, sorta anxious and mostly bubbling with excitement, “Ya like it?”

Looking up from the gift like he’s just remembered there’s somebody who give it to him, Drayton’s face shifts from surprise to frustration. “Well let’s see now. It’s a uh… You boys gonna hafta give me a hint here-“

Bobby snatches their gift out of Drayton’s hands so he can hold it out the right way and show Drayton. He explains, “It’s a new suit jacket!! B-Bubba sewded it, ‘an Nubbins got its fabric ‘and buttons and s-stuffs, ‘a-‘an I picked the pattern!”

Understanding, Drayton snatches it back and holds it out for himself, considering the homemade garment plenty before he decides to slip it on. It’s bulky and stiff and one sleeve is a little longer than the other, but once he wears it a few times, it’ll get better. Though he does have one concern, “This made of someone?”

“O-On the inside yeh, b-b-but the outside is a-all sheepy yarn so.. s-so nobody gonna know!” Nubbins explains with all the excitement in the world.

Can’t take the suspense anymore, Bobby asks him again, more loudly, “You-You like it?”

“S’pose I do.” Drayton answers this time, a look of pride in his face as he smoothes the buttons on his new jacket down, “You boys done good.”

Both twins bounce up on the balls of their feet and spin in celebratory circles. One of ‘em or maybe both is gigglin’ their head off, the noise inspiring Bubba to do some excited whining too. They all three clasp hands for a second, confirming their idea was a good one and they did a good job.

It’s Nubbins that pulls away from the celebration because he remembers, “We ain’t in t-trouble for wakin’ you up?”

Drayton gives a sigh, and knows better. Can’t crush their spirits already, on their very first holiday. He lets them off the hook with a false warning, barely any bite to his words, “Not this time- But just this once, now. Y’all know better’n that.”

Maybe it’s old age changin’ him, or maybe the revelation that the boys have so much interest outside of the home these days, in a world so different from the technology void he grew up in. Now they’re full grown and it ain’t the same keepin’ them on a short leash, cain't barely get them to listen. Got him extra quick to beat any kind of acting out clean out of ‘em, knowin’ he can’t handle their rebellion if it grew, but that’s the issue, ain’t it. Outright said themselves that they was actin’ so bad ‘cause he’s been extra cruel to them. Things is gonna change.

Drayton wears the present they made him and lets them have their merry Christmas. Would be a shame to punish ‘em when they already ran to open presents they made or found for one another now, wrapped in tidy little animal hides under the tree. It feels disturbingly normal, to sit on a bone sofa and watch them unveil a skull bone with a watch face stuck in the eye, or a new leather mask painted to resemble an iconic prefered blonde.

There’s no changin’ their ways or the damage of violence he sowed over the last few decades in them, but maybe he can give up a little bit of control to let ‘em have their fun. Just enough. Won’t live in no lawless household, but a happy one wouldn’t be so bad.

[jajna]

Earth, Kingdom Hearts, Fantasia, Megamind City, Home The more Alixon looked through her past. The more come of course forth. People especially... In Fantasia she meet up with an old friend, now grown and so capable she passed as threatening. Being a portal jumper had it's perks. Suppose she could thank Organization Xlll for that... But a centaurs ways? Yeah, no, that was all Fanatias ladies.

[dangoulains-devotion]

every time I have to wade through inane ship wars where people are willfully ignorant to the depth and facets of cloud strife's character, circumstance, and story just so I can find some cool screenshots or fanart my 'cloud is ace' agenda simply grows more potent out of spite

[rileyslibrary]

After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.

A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!

———————————————————————

A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.

“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”

You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.

You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.

“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”

“Pardon?” he asks.

“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”

The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.

“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”

“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”

“Where am I?” You ask.

“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”

Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.

“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”

“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”

“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”

“Several.” He nods.

“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”

“It’s your job, love.” He replies.

“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”

“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”

“I was really worr—”

“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”

“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.

“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”

“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”

“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”

“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”

“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”

“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”

“Can he?”

“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”

“Is he that good?” He asks.

“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”

“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”

“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.

The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.

“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”

“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”

“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”

“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”

“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”

“Even then.” You confirm.

“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”

“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”

“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”

“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”

“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”

“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”

“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”

“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.

“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.

“What did he lie about?”

“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”

“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”

“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”

“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.

“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”

“I do,” he confirms.

“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”

“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”

“How is she?” You ask.

“Perfect.” He states.

“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”

“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.

“Do you love her?” You ask.

“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”

———————————————————————

[nebulaafterdark]

A Tale Of Two Dragons

Summary: After suffering a head injury, Princess Y/N forgets the past two years of her life, including her marriage to Aegon. Who will do anything to win her back.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, Smut, Cheesy, Medieval Romcom

Y/N wakes terribly hot, her head throbs and there is something wrapped round her waist. She peels open her eyes…an arm. She flicks it away.

“What is the matter, my dearest love?” A voice grumbles, from behind her. “The maester says you should remain abed for several days.

“Why?” The word is past her lips before she can stop it.

“You hit your head.”

Y/N reaches up toward her throbbing temple, scraping against the forming scab beneath the bandage. Her fingers come away wet.

“You mustn’t touch,” Aegon chides, “let me see.”

Aegon?

Y/N screams at the top of her lungs, rolling onto the floor.

“What is the matter?” Aegon peers over the edge of the mattress. “Does your head hurt?” He springs from the bed, grabbing a cup off the bedside table. “Here, milk of the poppy.” He attempts to bring the chalice to her lips.

Y/N slaps his hand away, the glass shattering over the floor. “Surely poison.”

“What?” Aegon breathes. “Why in the seven hells would it be poison, my heart?”

“Do not call me that.” Y/N snaps, feeling almost sorry for it as his face falls.

“Look at me,” he crouches down to her, cowering in the corner. “What’s happened?”

“I should be asking you! Why are you being kind to me? Why are you sleeping in my bed? Plotting to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill you.” He huffs a laugh. Back are the sad, crestfallen eyes.

Y/N forces down the urge to punch him. “Why were you in my bed?”

“To be clear,” Aegon says, motioning behind him, “this is my bedchamber.”

Y/N searches the space behind him, he speaks true. This is not her room. “Why would I be in your bedchamber?”

Aegon’s upper lip twitches, “because you are my wife.”

Y/N laughs, “I am your wife.”

Aegon joins in, anxiously.

“You jest.” She wags a finger at him, “that is the Aegon I know. You have outdone yourself this time.”

Aegon’s eyes search hers for a moment more before he hollers, “guards!”

The doors fly open, “your grace?”

“We must have the grand maester.”

Y/N’s eyes track his movements. Pacing and pacing until the maester appears.

“Is your head troubling you, your grace?” He kneels before her. “I left you with milk of the poppy.”

“She needs more.” Aegon insists.

“She can have no more until the morrow.”

“She did not drink it.” Aegon shouts, “she tossed it away because she thought it poisoned.”

“I would never harm you, your grace. Surely you know that.” The maester addresses the princess directly.

“Not you, me.” Aegon throws up a hand. “She does not know who I am.”

“I know who you are and I do not like you.” Y/N argues.

“That is worse.” Aegon laments, “she does not remember our marriage or our-”

“Your grace,” the maester stops him. “Your lady wife has suffered an injury. It is best not to push the recollection of years past.”

“She will heal then?”

“I cannot say, the mind is unpredictable.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at the maester, “am I truly married to Aegon?”

“Yes, princess. For some two years now.”

“Nearly three,” Aegon corrects him, with a hand to his head.

Y/N’s breathing picks up, unable to calm herself.

“Princess, you must breathe slowly now.”

“I want my mother,” Y/N chokes out.

“I will get your mother,” Aegon offers, “just breathe.”

His command is foreign to her. That he would care. The maester fusses about her as they wait. “All is well, your grace, all is well.”

“I may faint.” She warns.

The maester begins fanning her with his hands.

Rhaenyra appears moments later, with Aegon hot on her heels. “What’s happened, my darling?”

“Mother,” Y/N reaches for her, sobbing against her shoulder.

“Hush now.” Rhaenyra cradles the back of her head, smoothing down her hair.

“I do not know how such a thing could h-happen.”

“What?” Rhaenyra begins swaying her like a babe.

“I woke up beside my sworn enemy, claiming to be my husband.” Y/N tells her, “and worst of all, everyone insists that it’s true. Am I truly married?”

“Yes.”

“To Aegon.”

“Yes.”

“And I am happy about it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Rhaenyra smiles. “You are quite taken with him.”

“To what degree is he hung?” Y/N scoffs. He must be-

Rhaenyra throws her head back with laughter, “I would not know, sweet girl.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “he speaks true then?”

Rhaenyra nods.

“And we are in…” Y/N forces out the word, “love?”

“Very much so.”

Without warning, the princess faints in her mother’s arms.

————————————————————————

“And though all the realm wished for the princess to deliver a son, she blessed the prince with two daughters.”

Y/N comes to, blinking up at the ceiling. Pleased to find that she is in her own bed this time. She nearly finds herself comforted by the voice beside her, before looking over to realize it is Aegon. Seated in the arm chair with a brown leather book in his lap. She sits up, staring him down.

“Don’t,” he slowly closes the book, holding up both hands, “don’t scream.”

“What do you want?” Y/N groans. “I’ve already told you I don’t remember.”

“I’d like to court you.” His lips twitch, nervously.

“Really?” She huffs a laugh. “You, Aegon Targaryen, would rather court me than go find another well suited lady, of high status, to marry you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me?”

“Very much so.”

“More than anyone else?”

Aegon twists his wedding band around his finger. “Yes, more than anyone.”

“Well…what would we do together?” She crosses both arms over her chest, “I can’t imagine we have much in common.”

“Talk, stroll the gardens, fly together on dragon back, whatever you’d like.”

“You told me this morning, I am to remain abed for several days.”

“That’s why I’ve brought this,” he waves the book at her, “thought it might keep you occupied. That or I could dance for you.”

“How well do you dance?”

“Not very,” Aegon admits, “that’s what makes it entertaining.”

Y/N leans up, trying to catch a glimpse of the book’s title. “What book is that?”

“A tale of two dragons.” Aegon pulls it away, “do you want to hear the story or not?”

“I suppose,” Y/N sighs, sinking back into the pillows. “I’ve nothing better to do.”

————————————————————————

For four days he reads to her from that silly book. With each day that passes Y/N finds herself more invested.

“But if a son is expected of the prince, why does he not want for a son?”

Aegon smiles as he closes the book. “That’s all for today, you must rest.”

“I am not tired,” Y/N argues.

“Your eyes tell a different story.”

“Truly, I’m not tired.” She tells him, toying with her marriage ring. “My head hurts is all.”

“Might I try something?”

Y/N scowls, reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His hands cup her face, moving up to her throbbing skull, running his fingertips over her scalp.

It feels nice, though Y/N will never admit it.

“It will help if you stop making such sour faces, Y/N.” Aegon remarks, smoothing his thumb over the furrow between her brows. “My head aches just watching you.”

“You might wear a similar expression after being dealt my hand.” It is odd, her name on his lips. As though he rarely speaks it, save for when he’s angry with her.

“Yes, how devastating it must be; doted on by the man who loves you.” Aegon muses.

“You used to call me a bastard at family gatherings.” Y/N remembers that clearly.

“I used to do a great many things I am not proud of.” Aegon admits. “But the man I am now, the man I am with you…I take great pride in.”

“It will take time, if I’m to trust you again.”

“I have time.” Aegon assures her, “though at present, there is somewhere else I need be.” He presses his lips to her forehead in parting. “Good night.”

Y/N cups his wrist, at the side of her face, for just a moment. “Good night.”

————————————————————————

On the fifth day, the grand maester allows Y/N to leave her apartments, and by the tenth day, she is cleared to fly. Being amongst the clouds always helps clear her mind, mayhaps she will recall something.

“Good morrow, your grace.” Marcello, the dragon keeper greets her.

“Good morrow,” Y/N smiles. “Might you saddle Stormborn for me?”

“At once, Princess. I’m glad you are well.”

Marcello returns a few moments later with the lilac dragon, whining as she nuzzles into Y/N’s hands.

“Issi ao daor biare naejot ūndegon issa, uēpa raqiros?” Are you not happy to see me, old friend? Has something happened between them that she’s forgotten?

Stormborn hums, nudging at Y/N with her head.

“What is the matter with her?” Y/N turns to Marcello.

The dragon keeper lowers his eyes, “she wants for Sunfyre, your grace.”

“She wants-” Y/N breaks off, clunking a fist to her head, “she wants Aegon’s dragon?”

“They are quite close these days.” The man in question says, stalking up behind her. “I heard you were flying out. I thought I might join you.” Aegon explains his presence.

“This is preposterous.” Y/N scoffs, “you mean to tell me we have become so deeply entwined that even our dragons cannot be parted?”

Aegon’s lips turn downward as his brows rise, “yes.”

“What can be done about it?”

“You loved me once, my hope is, you will love me again.” Aegon brushes past her, resting a hand on her dragon’s snout. “There’s naught to be done about it.”

To add further insult, Stormborn leans into his touch, cooing happily.

“I suppose I should pet your dragon.” It’s meant to be a threat, a means to get even.

“Go on,” Aegon encourages, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sunfyre?”

The golden boy begins to serenade her with a low melody. Y/N rests her temple against his head, glaring at Aegon. It is not the dragon’s fault.

“Your dragon understands English?”

“As does yours.” Aegon informs her, “they are highly intelligent creatures.”

“Pōnta issi mēre rūsīr īlva.” They are one with us.

Aegon smiles, “indeed.”

“Do you not speak-”

“Nyke kostagon emagon naejot…vestragon mirrī.” I can have to…say a little.

Y/N bites back a grin, “I could teach you.”

He starts to say something else, but she covers his mouth with her hand.

“Later,” she leans in, pressing a kiss to the back of her own hand. Had it not been there…it would’ve been his lips. Which means nothing, muscle memory, surely. “I’m sorry.”

He catches her wrist, bringing her hand away.“Don’t be.”

————————————————————————-

Y/N enjoys evening strolls with Aegon in the garden, but on occasion she walks alone, outside the walls, wandering near the woods.

“Wait!”

Y/N whips her head around to see Aegon charging at her, knocking her backwards before the steel trap snaps closed near their feet. Two rows of long, jagged teeth, meant to catch animals. She stares at him, in disbelief.

“They doubled the number of traps round the castle in these past years. I did not know if you’d recall.” Aegon explains, still holding her in the safety of his arms.

“You…imbecile!” Y/N returns the awkward embrace.

“Please, call me husband.” Aegon smirks.

“You could’ve been maimed.”

“Better me than you.”

Y/N groans in frustration, “quit doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Charming me.” She pulls away enough to see him.

No, not the sad eyes.

“I should like to know you better first.” Imbecile, she curses herself.

“What do you say we go back to your rooms and I will read to you?” Aegon suggests, “I’ll even bring cake.”

There it is, that tugging in her chest. “I do love cake.”

“When you were-” Aegon trails off, “there was a time all you would eat was cake.”

Y/N presses a hand to her head, “when I was what?”

“In due time, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles, sadly. “The grand maester says we mustn’t push, you’ve made great progress already.”

————————————————————————

She recalls a great many things over the next weeks. Trying and failing to teach Aegon High Valryian, eating cake with him and laughing until their sides ache. But there are a number of things she cannot recall.

“Where is it you go?” She wonders, “when you are not with me? You said,” Y/N closes her eyes until the words come to her, “you said you want always to be with me.”

Aegon’s eyes widen, “yes, I did say that. You remember?”

“Not nearly enough, just silly things.” Y/N admits, “sometimes…I think I might’ve been with child.”

Oh.

“That’s it, isn’t it? We’ve a child.”

“Two actually, daughters.”

“One after another like clockwork, then?” She arches a brow, resting a hand over her empty womb, “you’re late.”

Aegon grins, “both at once.”

“Efficient.”

“Well, we are nothing if not thorough.”

“With the way you look at me, I’m surprised there are only two children.”

“The birthing bed was not kind to you. I would love any child of ours, but I would not inflict such suffering upon you again.”

Y/N sighs, “you are so in love. I wish desperately to remember.”

“You could love me again.”

“What if it is different than what we shared? What if it does not please you as much?”

Aegon shakes his head, “then it will be different and I will be glad for it all the same.”

“Might I come with you to see them?” Y/N asks, wringing her hands.

“They should like that very much, they’ve been asking for you.”

“What are their names?”

“Dahlia and Visera.” Aegon tells her, “it might be difficult for you to tell them apart at first.”

“Dahlia is a Strong name.” Y/N whispers.

“And Visera was named for Viserys. If we would’ve had a son, we might’ve named him-”

“Laenor.” She breathes, recalling the smile on Aegon’s face as they’d discussed it, over the prominent swell of her belly. Subsequently leading his kisses to trail lower…her cheeks heats up.

“Yes,” Aegon swallows. Mayhaps he is recalling the same conversation.

The twins are playing happily on the floor, with their maids when Y/N enters the room behind Aegon.

“Papa!” They race to him, waiting to be taken into his arms.

“Hello, my darlings.” He holds one in each arm, kissing their little silver heads.

The child on the left sees Y/N first, blinking at her twice, to be sure. “Mama.”

The little girl on the right follows her gaze. “Mama!”

Y/N reaches for them out of instinct, hugging them to her as they are transferred into her arms from Aegon’s. “My girls.”

————————————————————————

Time passes, Aegon and Y/N have long since accepted she will never remember everything. What they share now is different, but wonderful, nonetheless.

Aegon and their children fill Y/N’s days with joy, though she still feels a bit guilty for the life she forgot.

She and her husband sneak out of their daughters’ rooms once they’ve found sleep. Walking back towards Y/N’s apartments with their arms linked.

Aegon bids her good night at the door, with a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Stay,” Y/N insists, turning her face enough to catch his lips.

“What are you-” Aegon smiles against her mouth.

“It hurts to look at you and not touch you.” Y/N murmurs, reeling him back in and burying her hands in his hair. “If you mean what you say, and you will be happy with me even if I am different, I want to be happy with you.”

“It pleases me to hear you say this, my darling. But are you certain?”

“I want you in my bed, always,” Y/N whispers. “Or to lie with you in yours. To wake with you each morning and spend each night at your side. Though right now there is nothing I want more than your cock in me. Is that certain enough for you?”

Aegon chuckles into her mouth, “that’ll do it.” He pushes open the door, leading her deep into her rooms, until they reach her bed chamber. He unlaces her gown with practiced hands. “Gevie.”Beautiful.

She works him out of his robes, kissing the underside of his jaw. “Gevie.”

He smirks, moving her to the bed. Positioning her sweet head against the pillows, stroking wayward hair from her face. Taking a long moment to look upon her, their gazes locked. Aegon kisses the tip of her nose. “Let us see if you remember this, shall we?”

His lips trail down her neck, across her collarbones to her breasts. Licking and suckling at the entirety of them before bringing a sensitive peak into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Y/N holds him to her.

“Mmm,” he hums, in approval as her hips buck up against his. “Anything coming to mind?”

“I’m afraid not, husband.” Y/N whines as he pulls away, “you’ll need to keep going.”

“Of course,” Aegon latches happily to the opposite nipple, flicking the first between his fingers. Lower and lower his mouth goes, swirling her navel, skating over the skin of her sex.

Y/N nearly faints as he parts her with his thumbs, exposing her pearl to his starved tongue. “Oh!” Her memory of this particular act, does it no justice.

He sighs against her, as though he’s waited the whole of his life to be in this moment with her.

She does not know how to be loved that way, or to give such love in return. But she wants to learn.

Aegon coaxes her through one peak to the next, relishing her breathless giggles as she shoves at his head.

“Enough,” she covers her face with both hands, “enough.”

Aegon chuckles, pressing a feather light kiss to her cunt before retreating, back up to her face. Caging her head between his elbows, hovering over her. “Still nothing?”

“Not a thing, perhaps if you continue.” Y/N reaches between them, taking his cock in hand and stroking, lightly.

Aegon shakes his head, “of course.”

She positions him at her entrance, feeling him slide into her with ease. As though he belongs there. Her hands find his face, stroking his cheeks, reeling him in for sweet kisses or to pant against his mouth. Committing him to memory.

“I love you,” he says, pressing kisses to her fingers, “we’re going to make new memories together, you and I.”

“I love you.” The words fall from her lips, without hesitation. “I love you.”

“I have gone too long without your touch, I will not last.” He warns.

“That’s alright.” Y/N assures him, “I’m nearly there.” Still sensitive from his tongue.

It’s all he can do to hold off until he feels her walls pulse around him, “good girl.” He groans, emptying his spend.

Y/N nuzzles her nose against his. “Aegon?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

His eyes open wide, meeting her gaze. “You remember?

Y/N nods, feeling tears prickle at the back of her eyes. “I am so sorry, I’ve no idea how I could forget you…us, our daughters, this life together is the world to me.”

“It was not by choice.” He rests his forehead against hers. “If I ever sustain a head injury, I’ll expect you to court me in return.”

“Mayhaps I will court you now, just because.” Y/N wants nothing more than to shower him with affection. “That story you read to me was ours, how did you get it?”

“I wrote it.” Aegon tells her, “to share one day with our children and their children’s children, their children’s children after that.”

Taglist: @21-princess @ladyriverasafepace @oh-you-mean-me @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @donalesaa @cookiesnfeesh @barnes70stark

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP: Travel Buddy

"I already told you I'm not going to another country! I'm going to New Mexico!" The shout echoes with frustration across the airport. Dick looks up from his phone to where a man is arguing with a woman behind a counter. She has a pinched grimace on her face, an expression only those who have worked in customer service are familiar with.

It's the look of someone who dances on the line of "I don't need to up with this bullshit. I don't need this job" and "Think of your bills, think of your check, stay calm."

There is a long line behind him, where everyone is making faces at the delay.

Dick often preferred to travel with Justice League tech, as nothing beat the speed of instant teleportation, but he needed to have some records of traveling the normal for his civilian identity. It would be suspicious if he was seen worldwide with no signs of how he got there.

It was a necessary evil to have his loveable wanderlust persona that was Dick Grayson-Wayne. He had taken a few aspects of Brucie Wayne but replaced the playboy reputation with a restlessness that couldn't stand being in one place for too long.

Growing up with people constantly pointing out how attractive he was, which would have been fine were it not for the rich old men and women who leered at him through his teen years. He could not stomach being a playboy, allowing those who objectified him to think he enjoyed their attention.

It was easier to be the easily distracted, pretty son who was always away from home instead. It helped that Bruce had plenty of private jets to gift his son for whatever whimsy urge to move hit him. That was why he was in Illinois today.

Dick's jet had needed to stop for some fuel, and like most commercial airlines, they were told that they needed to wait before heading up again. They may have enough money to afford their own planes, but commercial planes have the right of way.

Then a storm was reported at Gotham Airlines, and his pilot told Dick they were grounded until it cleared up. It could be a delay of six hours.

Dick didn't mind, having told his staff to take a break. If it got too bad, he would buy everyone a hotel room to try again tomorrow. His private jet staff seemed stunned by the offer, insisting they could wait to see if it was clear enough to fly in a few hours.

He had decided he wanted to have some crappy airport snacks, as it was part of the experience, and walked around the airport munching on his chocolate donut. He found a little booth selling local coffee, prompting him to find a seat near the welcome counter and scroll through his phone.

He still had three hours to kill, so he considered exploring the area a little. I suggest finding some hotels just in case. There was little in this place. The closest city was Amity Park, but it was only beside the mall and a decent burger joint; there was little to do.

It was one of those small towns that, despite not having many people, was well spread out due to all the open spaces. The people who lived there either raised a family, retired or had bloodlines traced generations back to the town's founding.

"Sir, as I stated before, you need a passport, and you have to pay for an international ticket to go to Mexico," The woman hissed. Some people in line began muttering about how annoying the man was for arguing.

"All I have is my driver's license. I could go home for my passport. That's no issue, but I am not paying for an international ticket to Mexico when I am not going there! I'm staying in the US! New Mexico is a state!" the man shouts, flailing his long black trenchcoat. It makes the black ponytail swing side to side as he leans on the counter. "How do you work in travel and not know that!?"

"What is going on here?" A man demands, stepping beside the gumming woman. Dick can tell he is the manager just by the way his uniform looks different.

"This man is refusing to listen." The counter lady practically spits and is now leaning well over the "I don't need this job" side of the customer service line. Dick finds himself standing up as the manager gets a quick rundown of the problem.

The crowd was getting impatient, even with the two other representatives slowly calling up the next customer. Curious by the outcome, Dick drifts closer, listening to the man explain that he wants to go to New Mexico to study the enormous reports of violent paranormal sightings.

He was apparently visiting all highly haunted states in the US to write a book about the history of the hauntings, but when he was attempting to get his ticket, the woman had been convinced he was leaving the country. Dick watched in real-time as the manager also seemed to think New Mexico was in Mexico because he began to explain the international policy to the fuming man.

They threatened to put him on the no-fly list if he continued causing them trouble. That angered the traveler even more, and he raised his voice and waved his arms as he insisted the location be within the country.

Dick pulls out his phone, typing with one thumb quickly and pulling up a map of the country. He slid right next to the trio, standing at the stranger's left with an easy smile.

"Excuse me, can I have a moment of your time?" He asks

The woman's frustration is now nearing its tipping point, but the manager must have recognized him, for he hastily scrambles to make his expression more pleasant.

"Mr. Grayson-Wayne! Please give me one moment to sort this out. I can help you if that's okay with you. I'm sorry for the delay. Karen, call security to have this man escorted out."

"What!?" Demands the guy as the woman grins.

"With pleasure."

"New Mexico is a US state, " Dick cuts in, displaying his screen. "It's been one since 1912, I'm afraid."

The airline employees are pale as they stare at his phone before the manager pulls it out of his pocket and types rapidly on it. A few seconds later, his already white face goes even whiter.

Dick considers the man next to him, who has a grin starting to bloom on his face. It's a pretty handsome face if he's honest. A dig has him looking away towards his phone.

It's a message from his pilot. It seems the storm was due to Mr. Freeze, and they weren't expecting it to clear for at least four days. He was asking if there was anywhere else Dick wanted to fly to.

"I'm so sorry. I'll bump you up to first class." The manager says to the stranger, who is looking rather smug now. Dick considers his pilot's question before thinking, why not.

He does have an image to uphold, after all.

"Would you like a ride in my private jet? " Dick turns to the man, who blinks at him while cutting off the rambling of the woman and the manger. "I can drop you off wherever you want in New Mexico. Where were you headed?"

"Ugh, I wanted to visit Dawnson Cemetry, " the man stammers. "I-do you really have a private jet?"

"Yeah. Would you like to go with me?"

There is a moment of hesitation before the man grabs his wallet off the counter and nods. "If it's not too much trouble," he responds cautiously.

"It's not. I'm Dick Grayson-Wayne, by the way."

"Danny Fenton."

Dick waves the two employees away, winking at them as they slump in relief that Danny doesn't seem to want to make this into an incident. Likely, he had just been upset they weren't listening.

"Most haunted places in the US, huh?" Dick asks while sending a text to his crew. He gets confirmation that they can head over to the southwest post haste. "Aren't you scared of ghosts?"

Danny gives an odd little smirk. "I haven't been afraid of ghosts since I was fourteen."

Dick stares at his mouth a little too long, swinging his gaze back to his phone when he gets a message from Bruce. His dad had been informed of the flight change and was using the coded message to confirm Dick being the one to change it.

He types out a response, ignoring the fluttering of his heart. If he checks to see what other states are highly haunted as Danny looks around his jet with a fallen jaw, that's only because he has four days to kill.

[ellecdc]

wait professor remus…… elle you opened the Gates

hehehehehe.... 😈 big shout out to @maladaptiveescapism for daydreaming and yapping about this with me - some of the 'ratings' are courtesy of her!

Professor!Remus Lupin x Professor!reader: 5/5 chilli peppers [1.7k words]

CW: fem!reader, flirty/sexual comments made about both professors by students [indirectly], suggestive content but nothing explicit and SFW

You were sitting cross legged on Remus’ desk; heels discarded on the floor as you used one hand to scroll through your phone whilst the other brought your glass of wine to your lips. 

Remus probably shouldn’t think you look adorable, but Remus thought you looked adorable.

You hummed excitedly as you quickly swallowed your sip and pointed at your phone. “Listen to this one!” You enthused, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter as though you were about to deliver one of your lectures. “Professor Lupin should be banned from wearing those khaki slacks - you know the ones - how can anyone pay attention to the migration of Germanic peoples through Western Europe when that perfect arse is *right there*?” 

Remus’ face felt like it was probably five shades darker on account of his furious blush as he topped up his own glass of wine and let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan.

“They’re just trousers!” 

“Oh but they are so not.” You drawled salaciously, smirking into your glass. 

“Knock it off, you minx.”

“Shan’t.” You replied as you squinted at your phone again. “Oh! This one’s good: when he starts rolling up his sleeves and then leans on the desk, it’s suddenly worth waking up at seven AM for a morning class.”

“Stop-”

“And someone responded with ‘I didn't believe in god when I was forced to take an eight AM lecture, but I did believe in god when she blessed us with Professor Lupin as an apology’. You’re a hit, Lupin.” 

“I’m horrified.”

“You’re an icon.”

“Did these student’s even learn anything in my classes?” Remus let out with a laugh.

“Sure.” You agreed quickly. “This one says you guys spoke about Freud?”

“I- what?” Remus asked, wondering when the hell Freud came up during his Early Medieval Europe course. 

“‘We were discussing Freud and made a daddy joke. Professor Daddy.’” 

“Alright.” Remus gruffed as repositioned himself on the loveseat in the office. “That’s enough out of you.”

“Hey,” You placated, raising your hands - still holding your phone and a glass of wine - in mock surrender, “I’m just the messenger.”

“What is this site called again?” He asked as he pulled out his own phone.

“Rate my professor. Oh, this one’s boring.”

“What’s it say?” He asked with a snort.

“Says you’re a harsh grader but fair, and you allow people to resubmit their assignments to bring their grades up.”

“Finally, an accurate and reasonable review.”

“All in all, you’ve gotten 5/5 chilli peppers.” You sing-songed, looking up and smirking at him. “My my; do office hours run long, Professor Lupin?” 

Remus swallowed thickly and ignored the subtle tightening of his pants. “You think mine are bad?” 

“No, I think yours are great.” You corrected. 

Remus hummed as he smirked at you before reading from his screen. “Took the class because it was the only one available and now I’m wondering if I can retake it because this might be the hottest woman I have ever seen. BRB booking an appointment to change my major.”

“No way!” You squealed with laughter; Remus’ smile grew exponentially as a result.

“Did Plato come up this semester?” He asked you then; you nodded your head yes. “I don’t know why she thinks I can focus on platonic ideals of things when she is in the room? Platonic ideal of hot.”

“Oh my god!” 

“This one simply reads ‘someone call Victoria’s Secret. One of their angels is posing as a university professor.”

You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling at that one.

“Looks like you’ve got 5/5 chilli peppers too, Professor.” He quipped.

“That’s just because I’m only one of two Professors at this university under 50 years old.” You chuckled, Remus cocking an unimpressed brow in response.

“Wouldn’t that be my excuse too?”

You quickly hummed in the negative.

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Uhm…because you’re hot, Remus.” 

“Is that so?”

“That is my professional, academic opinion, yes.” You agreed resolutely. 

“I think there might be some flaws in your assessment, dove.” 

“Is that so?” You drawled slowly, parroting his earlier comment earning you a challenging hum of affirmation.

Remus watched your eyes narrow slightly before you lifted your phone back up.

“You did receive one ⅘ rating.” You commented solemnly.

“Bastard.” Remus scoffed with no real heat, running his tongue along his teeth as you repositioned yourself on his desk; shifting closer to the edge and leaning over your own legs as though trying to subconsciously inch closer to Remus. “I hope they failed my course.” 

You let out a roaring laugh, throwing your head back into it and exposing the length of your neck. 

“They said,” you continued loudly once you collected yourself as though scolding him for having interrupted you, “minus one chilli because I’m pretty sure he’s shagging that other hot professor in the department.”

“Now why would they think that?” He asked innocently, though he knew exactly why they would think that. 

The two of you were new to the university faculty this year; you were close in age, by far the youngest professors on the payroll, and both part of the history department. The two of you had picked up a quasi-antagonistic yet relatively genial relationship; rumours that the department would be letting go of one professor at the end of the school year what with the two of you being the lowest in terms of seniority didn’t bode well, resulting in a slight rivalry that saw no real animosity. 

But regardless of the semi-competitive nature of your relationship, the two of you were the youngest professors at the school, meaning you weren’t always taken very seriously and were often each other’s only allies. 

This meant the two of you became fast frenemies. 

It started in the first term when he went to reserve a book for the class, only to find you had put it on hold first. 

“Oh? Did you need this book, Lupin? Sorry about that….you’ll have to be faster next time.” You’d offered him with nothing more than a wink, leaving him standing there, gaping in your office as you walked away. 

Then it turned into him letting himself into the lecture room 26 minutes past the hour whilst your class was finishing up even though your class only finished 25 minutes past the hour and his class didn’t start until 35 minutes past the hour, just so he could enjoy the way your nose scrunched up in frustration as your students started giggling through your concluding remarks. 

You showed up to one of his lectures once - he’d somehow missed you sneaking in and taking a seat in the back row - when you began volleying questions in an attempt to fluster him. You’d teased him once about his need for structure and scripts for his classes, and you’d gone to prove him right by asking him hard hitting questions slightly beyond the scope of this particular class that he was not prepared to have to answer. The class ended with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up as he scowled at you and you smiled sweetly at him. 

Once he had fucked around with your powerpoint lecture without your knowledge, so as you opened up the first slide, everyone read: blimey, sorry to everyone stuck with Professor Y/N for the next hour or so. You really ought to try one of Professor Lupin’s courses instead - they’re way better!

You sticky-noted his entire office for that one. 

Friendly and not so friendly comments were passed in the corridors as the two of you passed one another, some heard by students and others not. Remus had guest lectured for a course of yours and you had offered a talk in one of his. 

Ultimately, the school had seen the two of you interacting. Remus probably should have been more mindful of the way his gaze often lingered on you. 

But it couldn’t be helped, really. You were maddeningly intelligent, engaging in the way you spoke in an academic sense and a personal sense, you were funny and quick, and fuck him if you weren’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.

So yeah, he knew exactly where those rumours had come from. He’d probably been caught a few too many times ogling you. 

Much like he was being caught ogling you now, though you were the only one present to catch him in his faux pas.

Your eyes were glassy from the amount of wine the two of you had shared to celebrate the official end of exam season, the top few buttons of your blouse seem to have come undone at some point in the evening exposing a beautiful expanse of skin, if you asked Remus. He noticed you swallow thickly as your legs fell over the edge of the desk, bare feet dangling well above the carpeted floor as you watched him watch you. 

“Beats me.” You murmured in response to his question.

“We’ve been drinking.” He commented, seemingly apropos of nothing.

“We have.”

“And we’re technically at work.” He continued.

“We are.” 

“One of us could be getting let go.”

“We could.” You agreed again. 

The two of you stared at one another as you teetered this liminal space between friendly and decidedly not, between professional and inappropriate, between surrendering and resisting.

And then the corner of your mouth turned up in a smirk.

“Fuck it.” Remus let out with an exhale, and in two quick strides he was standing between your legs, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you soundly as you hummed into the kiss and fisted the back of his shirt with an iron grip.

He couldn’t believe he’d waited an entire academic year to do this. 

[verstappen-cult]

Teasing lestappen by dodging their kisses would be fun don't you think? * wink wink *

Charles would be pouting all the time because “Why wouldn’t you want to kiss me?” He asks, looking like a kicked puppy on the side of the road.

“I always want to kiss you.” You answer, trying to hide your smirk. For a moment Charles’ face lights up and then he’s leaning closer again, chasing after your lips. But you move your head to the side and Charles ends up kissing your cheek.

“Max!” He shouts your boyfriend’s name, irritated.

Your Dutch boyfriend appears from the corner of the room, raised brows in question.

“She doesn’t want to kiss me.”

“What did you do?” Max immediately asks, walking to the couch and sitting at the other side of you.

“I didn’t do anything!”

Max laughs at his boyfriend and leans in to kiss you, to make him jealous. But when he is almost touching your lips, you move your head and he ends up kissing your chin.

“What was that?” Max asks with furrowed brows. “I am trying to kiss you.”

“You did kiss me.”

His expression changes and, just like Charles a few moments before, Max pouts. “A proper kiss.” He argues back which makes Charles laugh.

“Not so funny anymore, uh?” The Monégasque says and Max sticks his tongue out. “So you’re not gonna kiss us?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes at them but leaning closer to Max. His blue eyes follow every movement as he patiently waits to finally feel your lips, but you take too much time so he takes matter into his own hands and meets you halfway. But, once again, you dodge his kiss and he barely touches your cheek.

“That is not fair.” You laugh, kissing his cheek and turning around to kiss Charles’ cheek too.

“Happy?”

“Of course I’m not happy!” Charles’ irritation is clear on his face and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well,” You get up from the couch, walking towards your room. “What are you willing to do in exchange for my kisses?”

Your boyfriends look at each other for a moment, a silent conversation happening just in front of your eyes, and then they’re standing up and chasing you to your room.

gwen’s message. don’t know if this is what you wanted but i just wanted a little fluffy thing to start the day. 🥺

[reidmarieprentiss]

Unauthorized Documentary 0.5

Summary: Matthew Gray Gubler is filming his untitled documentary, you hate it (not really).

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: fake arguing, fake fighting, mean reader (it's fake)

Word count: 1.6k

a/n: i am rewatching the documentaries right now and i need this man so bad

main masterlist

“I am not Matthew’s girlfriend,” you sighed heavily, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I have no idea why he keeps telling people that.”

The camera panned slightly, focusing on your expression as the cameraman shrugged nonchalantly. His lack of input only seemed to fuel your irritation.

Turning sharply to face the lens, you stared directly into it with a deadly serious expression. With an intense tone, you declared, “Let me make this absolutely clear for anyone dumb enough to be watching anything about Matthew Garbler — I have never, and will never, date that pathetic freak.”

The silence that followed hung in the air, your words ringing with unapologetic finality.

The camera pulled back slightly, catching more of the chaotic surroundings: a cluttered dressing room filled with mismatched furniture, half-empty coffee cups, and a life-size cardboard cutout of Matthew Gray Gubler in a pirate hat.

From behind the camera, a voice asked, dripping with sarcasm, “So you’re saying there’s no chance for a romantic subplot?”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Romantic subplot? This isn’t some trashy rom-com. This is real life! And in real life, I wouldn’t date Matthew if he was the last human being on this planet. I’d rather marry the cardboard cutout.” You gestured dramatically at the pirate Matthew, who seemed to smirk mockingly at you.

The cameraman snorted. “Right. But you’re still his assistant?”

“I’m his manager,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “And don’t you dare forget it. I keep that lunatic’s life from imploding every single day. And what do I get in return? A stupid title on this dumb documentary and people thinking I’m his girlfriend? Unbelievable.”

—

Later, the camera turns on Matthew, his brow furrowed and his expression caught somewhere between confusion and mild panic. “She said what?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

From behind the camera, a voice awkwardly clarified, “Uh, she said she’s not your girlfriend.”

Matthew’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing slightly. He made a quick hand motion, his tone turning sharp. “Show me the footage.”

The screen jumps back to Matthew as he watches the clip. He forces an uncomfortable laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s so funny,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “That’s just how Y/N is… she likes to joke around like that.”

The camera slowly pans away, catching you in the background, deep in conversation with one of the producers. Your body language is animated, your irritation still evident as you gestured emphatically.

“Fuck,” Matthew mutters under his breath, the nervousness in his voice escalating. He whirls around, shouting over his shoulder, “Cut that, cut all that!”

Before anyone can respond, he bolts from the set, his hurried footsteps fading as the shot lingers awkwardly on the empty doorway he’s just fled through.

—

While you were giving another uncomfortable interview for the cameraman, the door burst open, and Matthew himself waltzed in, juggling three cups of coffee. “Guess what, everyone! I’ve decided to legally change my name to ‘Gublé,’ like the singer, but with pizzazz. Thoughts? Be honest but supportive.”

You turned to the camera, your mouth slightly agape as if asking the audience for strength. “This is my life.”

“Wait,” Matthew cut in, setting the coffee cups precariously on a stack of scripts. “Did you tell them about us?” His eyes sparkled mischievously.

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of your head. “For the hundredth time, there is no ‘us.’ There never was and never will be!”

“Ah, denial,” Matthew said wistfully, draping himself across the nearest chair like a Victorian maiden. “It’s the first stage of acceptance, you know.”

The cameraman’s voice chimed in again, amused. “That’s grief.”

“Well, I’m grieving her lack of enthusiasm for our undeniable chemistry!” Matthew quipped, pointing dramatically at you before turning to the camera. “Did you catch that? That’s good TV, folks. Make sure you zoom in on her frustration—it’s practically Shakespearean.”

You threw up your hands in defeat. “I’m quitting,” you declared, marching toward the door. “I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back.”

“Wait!” Matthew leaped up, his tin foil cape trailing behind him. “Before you go, do you want one of these coffees? I got your favorite!”

You stopped, turning slowly. “No.”

—

You stormed into Matthew’s trailer, not bothering to knock. He was sitting on the edge of a couch, exaggeratedly flipping through a script as he was recorded, but the moment he saw your expression, his face fell.

“Stop,” you said sharply, pointing a finger at him. “Stop telling people I’m your girlfriend. It’s weird as fuck, Matthew.”

He blinked, momentarily stunned, before awkwardly laughing and setting the script aside. “Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s just for the bit—it makes the show more, you know, engaging.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Engaging for who? Because I don’t think the fake audience gives a shit about your fake relationship narrative. And I’m certainly not here for it.”

Matthew shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze. “I mean, technically, it’s not really fake—”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Well,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, “we’ve spent a lot of time together. People see that and, you know, assume things. I just… lean into it.”

“You lean into it?” you repeated incredulously. “Matthew, no one is assuming anything. You’re making it up and then selling it like a damn tabloid story!”

He held up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’ll stop. I swear. I’ll—” He paused, his eyes darting to the camera peeking through the crack in the door. “Is this… are we filming right now?”

You turned your head sharply to catch the lens disappearing behind the door frame. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Matthew grimaced. “It’s for the show?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Matthew. Fix it. Now.”

“I will!” he promised, scrambling to his feet. “I’ll tell them it was all a misunderstanding. Like, tomorrow. Maybe.”

“Today,” you snapped, pointing at him one last time before turning on your heel to leave. “Or I’m moving to another continent, got it?”

Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. I promise. No more telling people we’re together.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your arms still crossed. “You’d better,” you said firmly. “Because if I hear one more person ask me what our anniversary is or how you proposed, I’m going to lose it.”

“Got it,” he said quickly, nodding like a chastised child. “No more fake girlfriend stories. Swear on my vintage ghost-hunting equipment.”

“Good,” you said, heading for the door. But just as you reached for the handle, you turned back one last time. “And for the record? If you ever pull this stunt again, I’ll leak the footage of you crying at craft services over them being out of grape soda.”

Matthew gasped, clutching his chest in mock horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” you deadpanned before slamming the door behind you.

Inside the trailer, Matthew let out a long, defeated sigh before muttering under his breath, “She totally loves me.”

—

After the cameras had been packed up for the day and the set was finally quiet, you made your way to Matthew’s trailer. The door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly before stepping inside. He was mid-way through changing out of his Spencer Reid clothes, tugging off the familiar cardigan with his back turned to you.

“Hey,” you greeted, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Matthew spun around quickly, his face lighting up with a matching smile the moment he saw you. “Hi, love,” he said warmly, walking over to you without hesitation. His hands found your waist as he pulled you closer. His expression softened as he asked, “Are we okay?” There was a hint of hesitation in his voice, like he was bracing for a blow.

You tilted your head, confusion flickering across your face. “Of course, baby,” you replied, your hand instinctively reaching up to cup his cheek. Your thumb brushed against the slight stubble there as you searched his eyes. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Matthew let out an awkward laugh, his grip tightening slightly as if to ground himself. “You were just... really convincing today,” he admitted, his words tumbling out with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, that?” you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes. “Matthew, you know I have to sell it, or the bit doesn’t land. That’s the whole point, right? It’s supposed to be funny.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, though the nervous edge in his laugh hadn’t quite disappeared. “But for a second there, I thought you actually hated me.”

Your expression softened at his words, and you leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I could never hate you,” you murmured against his mouth. “You’re ridiculous, sure. Annoying sometimes? Definitely. But I love you, even when you make up insane fake-girlfriend narratives.”

A relieved grin spread across his face as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I really don’t want to get in trouble with my real girlfriend.”

You laughed, your fingers threading through his hair. “Well, you’re not off the hook just yet,” you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye. “You owe me dinner for all the grief you caused today.”

“Done,” Matthew replied instantly, his smile turning playful. “But only if you promise not to leak that grape soda footage. My reputation depends on it.”

“Depends on how good the dinner is,” you shot back with a smirk.

“Challenge accepted,” he said, his lips capturing yours again in a kiss that promised he’d make it up to you.

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

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[wileys-russo]

Alessia Russo, "i want you, nobody else" at a party

prized cow II a.russo

"what about her? or him? or her? or her? or him?" you rolled your eyes at the younger girls insistent pointing, smacking her hand down and shaking your head.

"none of them?" vic gasped in shock, two drinks too many having her squinting up at you as you couldn't help but chuckle. "no shock you're single mate, standards are too high." kyra added on with a tut as you shoved her where you were stuck sat between them.

"its not them-" "-its you!" kyra and vic chimed out in sync, sharing a look and bursting out laughing causing your cheeks to heat up bright red. "shut up! i'm not that predictable. am i?" you mumbled, necking your drink as the dutch beside you patted your leg.

"you are." both of them spoke in sync again, their loud rambunctious laughter having you wince, thankfully drowned out by the thundering bass pumping in the club you'd all met up at for katies birthday.

thing one and thing two still continuing on their mission to hook you up with a stranger, something you'd long given up begging them to stop, you caught lia's eye across the room as she glanced over, giving her a pleading look which had her lips curling in amusement.

"you two!" the girls beside you fell silent as the swiss appeared, giving them a stern look and pointing her thumb behind her, how quickly vic and kyra cleared off making you grin as lia replaced them sitting beside you.

"what is wrong hm? you have been sat here all night!" lia questioned as you snaked a mouthful of her drink before she snatched it away. "i have not! i was dancing with your girlfriend and laia just ten minutes ago. the girlfriend you haven't even told half the team about!" you teased as she gave you a look.

"stop deflecting." "i am not!"

another look.

"fine. i'm just sick of everyone trying to set me up with someone, why won't they just mind their own business and leave my love life to me?" you huffed moodily, crossing one leg over the other and exhaling.

"they're just trying to help-" "i don't need help! i'm happy, i am." you pushed with a frown, lia slinging an arm over you as you sighed and leaned into her.

"i will have a word to the girls about backing off." the older girl murmured, pinching your cheek as a small smile crept back onto your face. "thank you." you gave her a side hug, a sense of relief beginning to settle in.

"besides. i already told you, ana is single!" you leapt away from the swiss with a grimace on your face. "lia!" you huffed in betrayal as she grinned, downing the last of her drink.

"only joking." she assured patting your knee and starting to stand to head over to the bar. "you are not her type anyway!" the swiss winked, disappearing to grab another drink as you shouted after her and flipped her off.

catching kyra and vic speaking to rosa you noticed all three seemed to be trying to sneak glances over to you, and not wanting to wait around and see what they were plotting you quickly stood and made a beeline toward the bathroom.

once inside you exhaled heavily, the moment the door slammed behind you the quiet that followed much needed to help you clear your head as you started toward the sink.

before you could even take another breath the door banged open again, a blonde blur zooming through and slamming it closed after herself as bright blue eyes met yours.

"hi." "hi."

you couldn't help but smile as you noticed the slight blush on her cheeks, the same you could feel creeping up the back of your neck as she stepped closer.

"i feel like i haven't seen you all night." alessia pondered, her fingers nudging yours where your arm by your side and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the bolts of electricity which shot up at your arm at her touch.

"i've been avoiding you." you spoke bluntly, her face falling before she noticed your grin and her eyes rolled. "hilarious." she muttered sarcastically, shoving you and smiling down at the floor as the pair of you stood side by side leant against the sink.

"has kyra been bothering you?" alessia questioned softly, and you could feel her concerned gaze pan over the side of your face but as soon as you turned to look back at her it was trained to the floor again.

"jealous?" you smiled softly, bumping your shoulder gently into hers, your fingers now brushing against hers where your hands hung side by side, pinkies slowly intertwining making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"no!" alessia answered quickly, the two of you finally sharing a look and a grin before returning your gazes to the tiled floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"she's been trying to sell me off like a prized cow, vic too." you chuckled, the electricity bolts returning as alessia now properly took your hand in hers.

"well now i'm jealous." alessia admitted quietly though you didn't miss the way her lips curled upward. "should be, i'm worth a fair bit of money russo." you teased softly, squeezing her hand and bumping your hip into hers again.

"oh i know. who went shopping with you yesterday?" alessia challenged looking up as you scoffed. "i told you i would pay for my own stuff! but you-" you started to argue, a laugh and a pair of very familiar lips shutting you up as they pressed against yours.

"we could just tell them about us." you were again caught off guard by the words that followed, alessia's taller form caging you in against the counter you were pressed against, pulling away and speaking up.

"i thought you weren't ready yet? there's no pressure less, i know i said that stuff about kyra but-" again, cut off with pale pink lips moving against yours.

"well i've been thinking about it and we could start with just a few of our close friends, our parents have kept it hush." your girlfriend mused making you smile, her hand dropping yours as they both settled on your hips, yours winding around her neck.

"our friends mouths are much bigger than our families." you reminded with a snicker of amusement making the blonde chuckle. "well we have to start somewhere, and i think i'm ready. if you are!" alessia clarified quickly, worry flickering momentarily through her eyes as you nodded.

"i am. this is still...new, but i like it." you assured with a nod, pecking her lips twice and enjoying the way the tips of her ears reddened.

"new? babe its been two months!" alessia laughed as you rolled your eyes which flickered to the door as you thought you heard it open but it stayed closed.

"maybe, but its your first time dating a girl!" you reminded poking her nose as she rolled her eyes but nodded, unable to argue the fact that all of this had indeed been something new for the pair of you.

"well i am ready, at least for a few of the girls to know. i want you, nobody else." alessia assured as you blushed and she beamed, kissing your flushed cheeks.

"and then maybe they'll stop trying to sell you off like a prized cow." your girlfriend teased as you gasped, opening your mouth to tell her off but once more your words were swallowed by her lips locking with yours.

"you can't just kiss me to shut me up whenever you want you know?" "oh no? watch me."

[starjaeyun]

gatekeeper — tsukishima kei !

— tsukishima assures that he is not embarrassed of dating you, you think otherwise

warning/s : fem! reader, misunderstanding 😁 & a small fight at the beginning, profane language, tinsy bit of angst, fluff & crack from the second half ‘til it ends

note : had this little idea while writing a kageyama drabble so they might be quite similar

“just give up already”

y/n’s tip-toeing came to a stop. seriously? this was the 4th time this week! with an annoyed groan, she turns around, fists clenched, brows furrowed, and it looks as though a tick mark was formed on her forehead. behind her stood her oh so loving boyfriend, tsukishima kei, who somehow always catches her trying to sneak in the volleyball gym.

“oh c’mon kei! why won’t you let me watch your practice?!” tsukishima sighed, “we’ve talked about this” he grumbled, why does she have to be so stubborn?

“don’t talk like those romanticized, toxic boyfriends on wattpad!” y/n hits his arm, which barely does any damage to him, “and don’t act like them as well!”

tsukishima raises a hand to fix his glasses, “are you saying i’m toxic?”

“i never said that! i just said don’t talk and act like—”

“so you’re implying it?”

“well, you’re going to be if you carry on with that bullshit!” tsukishima grows silent and stares at y/n, who had seemed to be reaching the highest point of her annoyed meter, which would then slowly escalate into anger.

after a few seconds of silence, he spoke, “take these, don’t wait for me and go home. cool your head” in each of his hands were his hoodie and an umbrella, which he brought with him on the way to the gym incase it might rain before they’re able to go back to the locker rooms. with y/n giving no sign of taking it, he placed it on her foot and carried on walking past her.

“i don’t understand you” tsukishima comes to a halt, looking back almost immediately upon noticing y/n’s change of tone. crap, was i too harsh?

“why are you acting like that if you’re embarrassed of me?” he couldn’t tell whether she’s sad or angry.

“acting? acting like what? and what do you mean embarrassed?!” his tone immediately gave away his nervousness.

“in school or when you’re with someone else, you avoid and act like you don’t know me but when we’re alone, suddenly you’re taking care of me! make it clear whether you love me or not to save both our time because i am not about to start losing myself for a boy who can’t love me the way i deserve!” it’s clear that she wanted to say more so tsukishima stayed silent. “if you’re going to love me, at least be honest with me! am i embarrassing or not?!”

“of course not!”

“then why?!” it was a miracle that y/n was not crying nor shouting at the moment.

tsukishima fully turns his body this time, “what’s embarrassing is my explanation…” and the mood suddenly lightens.

“TSUKISHIMA, YOU BASTARD!” tanaka and nishinoya’s yelling made tsukishima sigh.

“you call me selfish but keep shimizu-senpai’s sister all to yourself” kageyama grumbles

tsukishima stands still. hands clasped together behind his back and head bowed down. he looks like a child getting a scolding, or how the the freak duo looks whenever daichi catches their slip ups.

nishinoya and tanaka kneels in front of the first year. head bowed down as if they were praising him, and that they are.

“on this day, we honor you. congratulations on getting a shimizu!” they say in unison.

“you’re overreacting” tsukishima simply says.

“nope, i, too, would congratulate you tsukki. no offense, but you’re not exactly the ideal boyfriend” yamaguchi says with a finger under his chin.

“mhm! so you better treat her right tsukishima! she’s like our little sister” sugawara’s smile does not look comforting at all.

“call me if you need help in buying gifts!” daichi volunteers happily.

“and me if you need advice!” asahi adds.

“why are you guys taking my job?” shimizu comments while giggling. “but, i do think that tsukishima is just right for my little sister” she turns to look at her sister who was now playing around with kageyama and hinata, “she’s as chaotic as those two, he’ll be able to handle her. so i trust that i won’t have to worry much?”

“of course” tsukishima didn’t seem like himself at the moment. his eyes seemed to have soften at the sight of his girlfriend. he smiled, though not too obvious.

“why are you smiling like a male lead in a drama?” tanaka teased. and though tsukishima hates expressing his emotions to his teammates, he certainly loves poking their annoyance scale, “because this is what it’s like to love and be loved”

“Why are you making it seem like kiyoko does not love me back! she does love me! right? right?” tanaka gave kiyoko hopeful eyes and received no response aside from her turning around.

“I’m not talking about platonic love”

“WHY YOU—“

“KEI!” apparently, while he successfully annoyed the second year, his girlfriend heard what he said and would definitely never let it go.

“when have you been so sweet?! love and be loved? seriously?!” she bounced up and down, hands on tsukishima’s shoulder for support.

“she’s no different from the freak duo, i’m afraid” sugawara comments and laughs along with the third years.

“but am i really that beautiful that you had to gatekeep me from your entire team?” she laughed, still bouncing, and tsukishima only stood there with his smile never seeming to fade.

“if that were me i’d be receiving his train of insults by now” hinata says, joining the rest of the team as they watched how tsukishima seemed to be a lot softer around y/n.

“you’re such a gatekeeper kei!” she teased, this time, she stopped bouncing and have started poking her boyfriend’s sides.

“that he is! how dare he gatekeep kiyoko-san’s sister?!” tanaka kneeled back down on one knee with a hand on his chest.

nishinoya followed suit, “and what’s annoying is that she reciprocated his love!”

© starjaeyun on tumblr | do not steal, copy, translate or repost

[sinofwriting]

Protective - Max Verstappen ( I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 910 Word Prompt: Protective (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse) Note(s): Takes place during the Baku 2024 race weekend. Also I hate James Vowles

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse | Sin’s Sept. Blurbs

Logan is a momma’s boy. It’s something he’s known for as long as he can remember. It’s something that has been thrown in his face, a taunt, a tease, as if he’s supposed to be ashamed that he loves his mom. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his mom and that includes ending what was supposed to be a good month of silence from him other than a short interview he did just after the news broke and the quickly deleted statement he put out.

He’s no longer an F1 driver for the 2024 season, but he still is traveling with the calendar. He hadn’t used the hotel room Williams booked for him since Australia, not when Red Bull always gives Max a suite and there’s always a little envelope with Logan’s name on it that holds a key.

He had stayed completely in the hotel during Monza. He loves the amount of support Charles gets, loves how passionate they are, but it’s a lot to be around, to walk around. He also doesn’t need to hear another drunk Italian man shout about wanting desperately to have Charles’ babies.

He had planned to do the same in Baku just because he didn’t feel like exploring Baku. But then a video gets leaked.

And that’s the end of Logan’s silence.

He shows up on Friday by himself. His parents are already in the Red Bull garage, waiting for him, but they know that he’ll be awhile.

He smiles at fans when they cheer and greet him, taking his time to sign stuff and take pictures, ignoring the hungry photographers and reporters that are watching. He squeezes the hands of fans who despite what happened are wearing his number and telling them how much they love him.

He takes a few more photos before finally pulling away from the fans and beginning to walk. It doesn’t take long before someone finally pounces. A microphone being handed to him, that he easily takes and a camera trained on him and oh great, he wants to roll his eyes a bit, Will Buxton.

“Logan, how are you doing?”

Logan smiles, nodding at some of the people he recognizes from other teams as they pass by. “I’m good. Enjoying the weather.”

Will laughs and it’s so fake it grates on Logan’s ears. “And are you here for duties with Williams?”

His eyes are hungry, his whole expression is. He clearly wants to press and dig deep but is trying to be patient.

He shakes his head, “Here to support my dad. I no longer am associated with Williams.” He knows fans had speculated after seeing his name cleared from their website, but the dissociation had only become official just three hours ago.

“Really? Not even development.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “Ties have been cut, man.” He laughs.

“And Logan, the video that has been circulating these past twelve hours, have you seen it? What are your thoughts?”

“I have seen it. And it’s disgusting really. James has never been shy about sharing his feelings about me and that’s fine, I was a driver on his team, I was a driver. But there’s no reason to bring up and say things about someone who isn’t a part of the team or any of the teams, but is just part of the driver’s staff and a parent. I could see why if they were disruptive or causing a mess, making a scene, but that isn’t the case.”

Will nods, “I couldn’t agree more, Logan.”

“I also want to say thank you to all the people who have been talking about this and talking about the words he said about my mom. I haven’t yet seen a statement put out, but I hope that what he said isn’t brushed aside.”

“I hope so as well.”

“I still say I should get to punch him.” Max comments after they finish watching Logan’s interviews and Logan can’t help but hum in agreement.

“Max.” Christian sighs, though he looks more amused than anything.

“If he wants to call someone a whore, he should call himself that. He has a wife and baby at home and yet is talking about meeting with Carlos in hotel rooms. And calling Pan a bitch just because she supported Logan? Fuck him.”

“We know, Max.” GP nearly looks bored, but there’s a glint in his eyes that Logan just knows means trouble for the Williams team principal.

A throat clears and everyone looks at his mom. “I think we all need to calm down. Especially you,” she gently pokes Logan’s forehead, before running her fingers through his hair. “The protective thing is nice, but it’s not the first time I’ve been called those things and it won’t be the last. We need to be adults about it.”

Logan frowns at her words. “You’ve been called a whore before?”

Max is frowning as well and something churns in Logan’s gut.

“Yes.” She says simply.

“Momma.”

She shakes her head, “No more interviews, Logan. Not about this at least. You didn’t say anything wrong, but I don’t want people thinking that it’s okay for them to just ask and talk about.”

She then turns to Max and Logan watches as she stares at him. “Do I even bother asking you to not say anything?”

Max shrugs. “You could.”

She sighs. “Just don’t threaten him. The FIA is already looking closely at you.”

“No threats.” He agrees.

[oimitocat]

TAKE ME UP | OS

park sunghoon x gn!reader

non idol au + 7 minutes in heaven + exes to situationship + angst + light fluff + college au + oral sex (giving) + blow job + implied unrequited love (hehe)

a/n; technically could be read as male reader

sunghoon didn’t want you. he made it very clear that he didn’t want to have you, just desire you. the words he had said that day “we’re better at wanting each other than having each other” rang through your head for weeks. it made sense, how he’s only want you to show off, to have fun but never to actually have soft moments with.

it was always you yearning for gentle love. you weren’t exactly all soft, you were like a current of water— calm and steady but overflowing and aggressive when pushed …but he was fire. consuming and evaporating. he drained you.

at some point you agreed. you two are better as anything but lovers. as much as it hurt.

he’s always around. you have mutual friends. it’s… painful. you always yearn for what could’ve, but you wish desperately to move on just like he has. you wish it didn’t bother you despite how little you think of him. still… your heart naturally yearns.

“seven what?” you ask as you take a sip of your drink.

“seven minutes in heaven!” ni-ki exclaims, grinning sadistically.

“what’s that?” you ask, genuinely.

sunoo and jay turn to you. “you being for real?”

“yes,” you raise a brow, “okay, call me stupid then.”

“no one is calling you stupid,” jay defends.

“i am,” ni-ki snorts. you narrow your eyes at him, “seven minutes in heaven is basically whoever is paired has to be in a room or closet for seven minutes or however long and do some freaky stuff.”

you blink, “oh.”

“let’s go play!” ni-ki shouts to the people that attended the party.

it was a total of 12 people. the bottle spun. cheers. boos. if anyone wanted to skip, they had to take a shot of lemon juice. you weren’t certain if you’d skip or anything, depended on who you were paired with. still, you wondered — what if you were paired with sunghoon?

the boy is clearly having fun with jay, who’s next to him. they chat between themselves, they laugh. why does it bother you? is it because clearly you’re not even worth acknowledging? not even a glance? you feel so alone.

“sunghoon aaandd…. y/n!”

you blink out of your thoughts, snapping your head towards ni-ki. “i’ll take the lemon shot.”

“what?” everyone gasps, disappointed and shocked.

sunghoon huffs, “what? you’re not over me? scared you’ll spill out your feelings?”

“you’re not worth my time,” you say as casual as possible and take the shot.

it’s bitter. sour. you make a face but you won’t show them you’re affected. sunghoon is saying something. you don’t know what. it’s not worth it. you mean nothing to him. so… why do you keep making him something for yourself? heesung is next to you, he puts a hand over yours while everyone continues the game.

“you good?” he asks softly, covered by the shouts of enthusiasm from everyone when the next pair is chosen.

you shrug, “i guess i am. i just like to keep clinging onto things that stopped having meaning long ago.”

heesung’s eyes soften, “y/n… if you want to leave i’ll leave with you.”

“for what? i’m not… upset.” you look around, unsure what to stare at. everyone looks happy. “i just… i don’t know.”

“you wish things were different?”

you shake your head, “i wish i was different. why do i feel like….”

“like you’re not moving on?” his thumb rubs over your knuckles. you nod. “everyone goes through it differently.”

you look at him.

“don’t feel bad because he’s indifferent and you can’t do the same. that just shows you’re real with your process…“ he stares at you lovingly, “y/n-“

“y/n anddddddd,” ni-ki spins the bottle again, “sunghoon again!”

everyone is quiet. this is awkward. again? heesung’s fingers twitch over your hand.

“lemon shot?” ni-ki offers, shifting his sight between you and sunghoon.

“i’m down,” you say.

sunghoon doesn’t smirk. his expression is neutral. “me too.”

still, the tension doesn’t dissipate from the atmosphere. jay and heesung glance at each other. you take your hand out from under heesung’s and pat his hand with tender appreciation. heesung watches as you stand and go to the room with sunghoon. ni-ki had stated before hand that there’s no closet big enough for two people. a room had to do.

sunghoon walks into the room first, you follow suit. the door isn’t even closed behind you fully when he slams you into it. the lock clicking, your eyes strain on sunghoon’a glaring eyes.

“the hell-“ your mouth is suddenly attacked him his lips.

he’s kissing you. you almost push him off, but your body goes lax as he opens his mouth and starts to makeout with you. your can’t help it, he’s always been your guilty pleasure. you pant when he pulls away, his warm, moist breath on your lips.

“that it? nothing more in mind?” you ask, challenging despite how frantic your heart is beating inside your chest.

he grins, “i have a couple of ideas….” he said, glancing down at your lips again.

you hum back, his cockiness giving you an idea. you kneel down in front of him, bringing you eye level with his crotch, “let’s see what you can take for the remaining five minutes.”

“one way to find out.” he said, immediately excited at the sight of you on your knees in front of him. you reached up and unbuttoned his pants, shimmying them down slightly, “y/n are you really..?” he asked, suddenly there’s doubt in his eyes.

“backing out on me?” you ask, snickering at him. you palmed him through his boxers and he let out a low groan, his head falling back against the door with a thud.

you smirked and reached into his boxers, wrapping your hand around his dick and pulling it out. you kitten licked the tip and his hips twitch. he lets out a soft whine.

“quiet. or do you want them to hear how whiney you get for me?" you warned.

you hardly gave him a chance to think about it before taking him into your mouth, he let out a low moan for a second before he remembered what you said and held it back. you sank down as far as you could, slightly gagging as he hit the back of your throat, the sensation making his dick twitch in your mouth. still, you’re a trooper, it doesn’t faze you after a second.

you took your time sucking him off, keeping your actions slow and teasing. he bucks his hips up into your mouth and you bring a hand up to his hips, pushing him back into the door and holding him in place. he whines, pushing up against your hand. you pull back and he falls out of your mouth.

he whines out of frustration, “y/n- please i was so close. felt good-“

“cum when i tap your hip, not before. not after.”

he whines, not liking the order but still, he nods.

"that’s better." you say before guiding him back into your mouth.

you go back to your slow pace, trying to keep him from getting to the edge too quickly. his hips twitch, hinting at how close he was. you lap at the underside of his dick, his breath hitches. you hear footsteps coming from the hall, your time is almost up. yet you bob your head, you move your tongue and he can’t keep his noises to himself. they knock on the door — you tap — he cums in you mouth with a gasp.

“uh, time’s up,” someone says, you pull off of sunghoon.

he’s slump against the door, breathing uneven. you tuck him on lazily, coming up and being at eye level again. you grin, “the only one that spilled anything here was you baby,” you peck his lips, taking in his hot, heavy breaths.

he grabs you by the back of your head and kisses you again.

“guys-?”

“i’m sorry-“ sunghoon pants between kisses, “gives us a minute!”

“uh- sure?” and then there’s giggles from the living room.

“another minute?” you question, eyeing sunghoon with that tenderness you wish you didn’t have for him.

sunghoon nods, breathing normal now. “i just… i need one more minute with you. even if it’s the last.”

you close your eyes and your head falls forward into his neck. “don’t.”

“y/n…”

“you broke up with me. you left me.” you whisper, scared to break down into tears at the memory.

“i know,” he whispers, “i’m sorry… i just… feel so undeserving of you.”

“me too…”

you stay there in his embrace. he doesn’t want to let go…. neither do you. just one more minute… you two allow yourselves to love just one more minute…

[iamasimperyk]

Gold Digger

Summary: Someone told your stepson you would be a gold digger.

Warnings: Age gap, fluff, kid being a little brat, not proof read, English is not my first language

Pairing: Older!Rafe x Younger!reader

You married Rafe when you were 21 while he was 31. Before you came into his life, he was already married once and had a six-year-old son.

It was a big step for you to be with someone who had his life all sorted out, but it didn't stop you from being with Rafe in the first place.

The two of you met a few years ago in a cute little Café where you worked to get some extra money. You lived in a small flat, trying your best to pay your bills.

Since you were Rafe Cameron's wife now, you never had to pay for anything anymore. Your husband always made sure to provide you with everything you needed.

You were on your way to pick up Lucas, Rafe's son, from school.

The little boy was as charming as Rafe and saw you as his mother. His biological mother left the moment Rafe decided to divorce and never thought about her son ever again.

You remembered the day Lucas turned four. It was his first birthday without his mother. He didn't stop crying, asking constantly about his mother and why she couldn't be here on his special day. Rafe tried his best to calm his son, but nothing worked.

That moment broke your heart, and after it, you made sure to provide Lucas with all the love you could give him. That was also something Rafe noticed, and unknowingly to you, it made him fall in love with you even more.

"Mommy!" Lucas shouted as he came running out of the school entrance.

One day after he came home from kindergarten, he started calling you 'mom' all of a sudden. You looked at Rafe, who seemed as surprised as you before he started grinning.

That memory will always have a special place in your heart.

"Hey, buddy, how was your day?" You asked, leaning down a little to hug him.

"I learned a new word today." He smiled proudly.

"Oh really ?" You asked, a little confused.

Lucas nodded, "My friend, Marc, told me."

Marc. Rafe and you didn't like that boy one a bit. He was quite good at manipulating and often responsible for all sorts of trouble.

"He said you are a golddigger." Lucas smiled at you.

You were aware of the fact of what the word meant, but it seemed like Lucas wasn't.

"Oh, and why am I a gold digger?" You asked him calmly.

"Because you always look so beautiful, like gold." He gave you a grin that looked similar to your husband's.

It was clear to you that the little boy had no clue about what the word actually meant. You let out a sigh, "Sweetie, a gold digger is someone who is in a relationship because of money. Do you think I am with your dad because of money?"

He quickly shook his head, "Marc said you are a gold digger, but he didn't explain why. I just thought he said it because he thought you are beautiful."

"Sometimes people will say things you don't understand, but it's important to ask about the meaning of the words," You told him, "Also, I want you to know that Marc maybe is not a real friend if he calls someone in your family a gold digger."

"I am sorry, mom." He apologized immediately and hugged you.

"Don't worry. I just want you to know that I am no gold digger. I love you and your dad a lot." You smiled brightly and took his hand to lead him to your car.

As you told Rafe later that night about the incident, he had enough of this Marc kid and made sure your son never had to deal with him again.

[amourane]

love notes in music

pairing: drummer!theodore nott x rich girl!reader

genre: fluff, modern au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: you always got what you wanted and the extremely hot drummer was no exception.

warnings: none

a/n: i am here to push forward the drummer theo agenda because yes yes and yes

Trouble was coming. You could feel it in your bones. Maybe it was the extra shot of espresso you had today or the wild predictions in your horoscope, but you definitely sensed something brewing. It didn’t help that Enzo had interrupted your lunch and dragged you back to campus for god knows what reason.

"Enzo if this is another one of your tricks to get me to dance with you it's not going to work. Remember what happened last time?" 

You dug your heels into the grass as your best friend continued to drag you across the field. The campus auditorium came into view and you frowned. There was no reason for you to even be there today so why was Enzo tugging you along like bait?

“Yes Y/n I remember what happened last time.”

"I fractured my ankle and I do not want to wear a cast ever again. I couldn't match the darn thing with any of my clothes." You huffed out a breath at the memory of the ugly accessory that the doctors had insisted on your wearing despite your protests. 

Admittedly you were a bit of a spoiled brat but at least you knew that you were. Going to a normal university was one of your father’s choices. You would have never gone somewhere so shabby on a daily basis. Truth be told on the first day, you were actually planning to ditch and go grab a chai latte. Then you bumped into Enzo accidentally and the two of you seemed to click. 

It was a good friendship. He’d always be able to tell you when you were being a tad bit annoying because of your rich girl behaviour and you’d be able to join him in his multiple activities. One which led to the infamous ankle incident. 

“Don’t worry Y/n, you’ll still be able to wear that Gucci jacket-”

“It was an Armani jacket.”

“Yeah yeah.” Enzo pushed open the door to the auditorium, and you were immediately greeted by the sound of drums pounding heavily. The amplified sound hurt your ears. “Welcome to the band.” 

“Um...Enzo, do I need to remind you of the time when I broke a guitar?” You nervously watched the live band on stage. Technically it wasn’t your fault that the guitar broke. Enzo never did tell you how to properly use it. “And when did you join a band?”

“Please don’t remind me Y/n also I didn’t actually join the band I’m more of a-”

“Hey Enzo!” 

The music stopped. Your head whipped around and your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the absolute hunk that had just shouted. His dark hair seemed to glow under the spotlight making him look like some sort of angel. Your mouth ran dry when he waved a drumstick at you. His fingers looked as if they’d been carved out of stone. And his biceps. God his biceps. The guy was ripped. He was a drummer as well. What was more sexy than a drummer?! 

“Hey Theo!” Enzo, your backstabbing friend who knew your weakness for hot boys with dark hair that played the drums, embraced him in a tight hug. “The practice is going well.”

“I know!” 

Good god, his eyes were like beautiful whirlpools of love. The two boys started talking animatedly about something to do with music. There were a few words thrown here and there that you recognised but other than that you stood watching wide-eyed at the conversation in front of you. 

“Who’s the pretty lady?”

Theo turned to face you and seeing his face up close only made you want to kiss him more. He really was gorgeous. You cleared your throat, straightening your skirt. “I’m Y/n, Enzo’s best friend, and you are?”

“Theo.” He offered you his hand, which you shook. Wow, his hands were soft. You were almost jealous. Time to buy new hand cream. “Hey, I’ve heard of you. You’re that girl who nearly broke her foot when dancing.”

Your cheeks flushed. Was this your legacy now? The girl that nearly broke her foot while dancing? How horrible. You would much rather be known for your stunning looks or incredible fashion sense. 

“Actually I twisted my ankle but who’s keeping track?” 

“Y/n isn’t the best dancer or guitarist.” Enzo chimed in. “She’s really good at maths though, she’s my second brain.” He said it as if you were simply another organ in his body, but you let it slide, trying to make a good impression on the drummer boy.

Theo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, it's good to know Enzo has a brain to rely on."

You giggled at his remark, feeling the tension ease a bit. "Yeah, he needs all the help he can get."

"Hey!" Enzo protested, a small pout forming. "I'll have you know I'm quite capable on my own."

"Sure you are." You teased, nudging him playfully. Then, turning back to Theo, you asked, "So, what kind of music do you guys play?"

Theo's face lit up with enthusiasm. "We're a rock band, mostly. Some original stuff, a few covers. We're actually looking for a new guitarist. Interested?" He winked, clearly joking.

You shook your head, laughing. "After what happened last time? I think I'll pass. I'm more of an appreciator of talent than a participant. But I might be persuaded to attend a private concert."

Theo laughed, a rich, warm sound that made your heart flutter. "A private concert, huh? I think we can arrange that."

Enzo rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go."

Ignoring Enzo, you leaned a bit closer to Theo, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "So, Theo, do you always look this good while playing the drums, or is today a special occasion?"

Theo raised an eyebrow, his smile turning into a smirk. "I guess you'll have to come to more practices to find out."

You gave him a once-over, pretending to think it over. "Maybe. I do have a very busy schedule, you know.”

“Sounds like a yes to me. We’ve got a gig this weekend, free up some space in that glamorous life of yours and come.

You tried your best to conceal your excitement at the fact you had just scored yourself a date with a very hot drummer. Forget about trouble today was definitely the best day of your life. 

"Alright, I'll be there." You agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "But only if you promise me a private drum lesson afterward."

"It's a deal. I'll make sure you get the VIP treatment." Theo’s grin only widened and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. He really was handsome and if you didn’t know how he was single but that was good news for you.

“I’ve got some studying to catch up on but I’ll hold you to that.” You offered him a wave goodbye as you made your way out of the auditorium with Enzo. Theo simply smiled, reciprocating your action. 

A giddy feeling overtook your body as the sun shone down on you. There were millions and millions of butterflies soaring in your stomach and you could only squeal at the idea of seeing Theo in the next few days. Before your best friend could say anything you spun on your heels, this time dragging him along with you.

“We need to go shopping right now, I need a new outfit for the weekend.” 

Enzo could only groan as his feet automatically moved. It was going to be a long day.