#why does god need to be real when you can walk outside and feel the breeze and look at the moon isn't that what it's all about?

[swedehole]

God is basically a cryptid

[neonvqmpire]

vent in the tags

[screamlet]

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

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Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.           

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

[bluejutdae]

• best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Jisung x you

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

genre: friends to lovers, romance

warnings: none

The guy is boring, misogynistic and keeps talking about his job like it’s the best thing in the world. He’s a banker, for fuck’s sake. How exciting can it be?

What did Hannie mean with “play along”? You smile thinking about your best friend. You have been friends for years now, and you’re convinced he’s your soulmate. Maybe he feels the same, but he’s unyielding in his idea of needing to be alone, to only focus on his career and not let romance distract him. You love him, but who are you to try to convince him he’s wrong? So you keep your feelings in line and don’t let them overflow.

“Oh, my love, please forgive me! I know I made a mistake but take me back!” A loud voice interrupts the umpteenth story about bankers. Jisung is in the restaurant now, hands clasping over his heart and his big boba eyes on you. “I can’t lose you, you’re the best thing in my life.”

Oh, so this is what he meant by “play along”?

“Sung”, you start. In a very dramatic manner, he interrupts you, a finger on your lips and unshed tears in his eyes.

“No, don’t talk. Hear me for a moment, I have to ask you this, even if it’s the last thing I get to say to you”.

You repress the instinct to roll your eyes. To your right you can hear a confused “what the fuck is happening?”. Jisung’s voice is loud again, tho, and he’s suddenly on his knee, looking up at you with a teary smile. “My love, would you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” He has a ring in his hand. Where the fuck did he find a ring? Does he go around with an engagement ring in his pockets? Well, this is your best friend. And he’s fucking crazy.

You almost throw the napkin on the plate and get on your knees in front of Jisung. “Yes, yes, of course!” The smile on your lips is one of amusement, but for everyone is the smile of a newly engaged girl.

A round of applause fills the room and soon there’s a chanting of ‘kiss, kiss, kiss’.

The thing is: Han didn’t think this through. Did he stop at a street vendor's stall to buy the prettiest (fake) ring for this? Yes. Did he plan this whole farce in his head to have fun? Also yes. Did he put his fingers in his eyes so he would tear up? Sadly, yes. Did he stop for a second thinking about the fact that newly engaged couples kiss? No.

Jisung looks at you with comically large eyes and his mouth slightly agape and you take pity on him. Suppressing your laughter, you cradle his face into your hand and kiss him. It’s just a simple peck: your lips on his soft, pretty lips; your hand covers the most of the kiss from the guy you had a date with, but it’s the least of your worries now.

It’s just a simple kiss, chaste and functional to the farce, but it’s something you’ve dreamt for a while. The minutes following are a blur in your mind: you left your share of money on the table, apologized quickly to your date and grabbed your coat, leaving the restaurant hand in hand with Jisung.

You’re running on the empty sidewalk, still holding hands, laughing loudly when it starts to snow. It’s so intense and so beautiful, you both go quiet and stop. You love the snow falling: it’s so peaceful and beautiful, the snowflakes dancing in the hair, light and frozen. Seen from the outside, you’re just another couple holding hands in the streets, looking at the snow falling. For a moment alone, you let yourself daydream.

You let yourself imagine it’s real, that you’re a couple holding hands and walking home where you’ll get cozy on the couch, under a blanket, to watch the snow from the window. You’ll kiss again, you’ll make love, you’ll live your lives together and you’ll love each other forever. God, you’re so dumb. Why are you hurting yourself like this, now? It was just a fake kiss.

“So… we kissed.” Han says in a low voice. You can sense he’s looking at you, but you’re not ready yet to look at him and break the calm bubble you created around yourself.

“It wasn’t a real kiss.” It can’t be. Otherwise you kissed your best friend, who you’re in love with, and if it’s true then you can already see the floodgates crack under the pressure.

“It was for me.” The air is cold and it’s freezing your nose, but the shock of his words makes you forget all that.

“Uh- what?”

“The kiss. It was real for me. I know it wasn’t a big kiss but it was real. And I’ve thought about kissing you millions of times but this time it wasn’t a dream and it was real and I don’t think I can go back to when we hadn’t kiss and I don’t wanna ruin our friendship but now I know how your lips feel on mine and-“ he stops and takes a deep breath, looking down at his shoes.

“I’m sorry. I- I don’t really know what to say.”

“Do you really think it wasn't a real kiss? Does it… does it really mean nothing to you?” He asks, and you’re not sure why but you can feel your heart aching. Why does it feel like you’re rejecting him? He’s the one who doesn’t want a relationship, he’s the one who banned love from his life. And you tell him so.

“You said there was no place for anything that wasn’t work in your life.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

He turns completely towards you and you can barely see the redness on his round cheeks, but it’s there. “Before you kissed me and suddenly I realized how stupid I’ve been all this time. I know you’re the perfect girl for me, but I was too convinced I couldn’t handle a relationship. But why do I have to deprive myself of something I know would be good?”

“Don’t do that, Hannie. Don’t say this if you’re gonna change your mind later. You’ve repeated the same thing for years, and now suddenly you want more?” You can endure the idea of just being friends even if you’re in love with him, but you won’t let yourself get too hurt. And you’ll get hurt if he wants something now that he’ll change his mind about later.

“I’ve always wanted more. But I didn’t realize exactly how much I was giving up!”

“Tomorrow, you’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t.” Jisung lounges and grabs your hand. When did you let go of each other’s hand?

“You say that now, but tomorrow or in a week, you’ll be tired and stressed over work and you’ll decide you don’t want another commitment…” You feel like an asshole, but you’re just trying to protect yourself from an even worse heartbreak. His face shifts, and you remember that it’s your best friend the one you’re talking to, that no matter what he’ll always love and protect you from harm.

“Do you trust me?” You nod, fingers squeezing his.

“Then trust me I won’t change my mind. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” You bite the inside of your cheek, considering his words.

“I want more. I want to be able to kiss you everyday, I want to be able to call you my girlfriend. I want to be by your side on the days I’m stressed and on those I’m happy. I want to be by your side anytime you’ll let me.”

“Promise me you won’t regret it.” How can you say no to him? You’re scared he’ll break your heart, but it’s true he never broke a promise.

“I won’t regret it.” Again, it’s you who kisses him. This kiss is nothing like the previous: it’s hot and his lips are immediately moving under yours. You can feel his breath on your lips and it’s a heady feeling and you want more and more and more.

You want to know what he tastes like and how his tongue feels on yours, so you’re quick to prod at his lips, demanding entrance and licking into his mouth. The sounds Jisung makes are the best sounds you’ve ever heard, and all your worries dissipate.

Kissing your best friend under the snow wasn’t how you expected the night to go, but you’re not gonna complain…

[bunnys-kisses]

side switcher

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, wolff!reader, driver!max, unprotected sex, rough sex, degrading language, unprotected sex and its consequences, hot stuff (!!!), missionary sex

bunny says: thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! feel free to suggest your own ideas for future fics!!

you sighed as you walked down the busy monza street the night after the grand prix. you had to calm yourself down, this was just a meeting.

"bärchen." your father had said, his hands on your shoulders, "you talk to verstappen to consider the offer from mercedes. i think he needs to talk to someone who is... closer in age. not some old man like me." he laughed. his voice was tinged with a softness that was only reserved for his daughter.

you looked at him, "i don't know how to negotiate the way you can."

"that is fine, bärchen. we need an unconventional approach to get verstappen to consider. he is too tied up with red bull, a younger face might be just what we need."

you father wasn't pimping you out. god no, he didn't want you to have sex with max verstappen. the idea of a driver like max with a toto's daughter made the head principal sick.

you stood outside the restaurant and adjusted your blouse before you stepped inside. the place was lavish, high ceilings and low lighting. the food smelt delicious even from a distance. it was the kind of place to make a deal like the one your father was attempting to secure.

he was impressed with max verstappen and you were going to help him make sure that max considered his options. the driver was seated near the back and you gave him a little wave.

"ms. wolff." you said as you reached over across the table to shake max's hand, "i'm toto wolff's daughter, he arranged for us to have a little... talk."

"i didn't know that toto was sending his daughter now. i thought he had a team for that kind of stuff."

you smiled, "well, this is just an informal meeting. the real guns will come out when you agree to talk to my father." you sat down across from him.

you tried not being starstruck, you knew that you had to do this for your father. but you couldn't help but feel a little flushed under max's gaze.

"what would mercedes be willing to give me that red bull won't?" max asked as he looked at you, "must be a pretty hefty deal."

you had the wine menu in your hand, "well. more money." you chuckled, "the numbers won't be finalized until your team meets their team. but i think you could do a lot better there. aren't you tired of being under horner's thumb?"

max raised his eyebrows, "what is be the difference between horner and wolff?"

"my father will make sure that you... shine on the track."

max pushed further, "right, right. i've been winning with red bull, why would i change now?"

you replied, "have you? you're slipping between their fingers. you potential is wasted with them. with mercedes you could have it all."

max smirked, "does the head principal's daughter come with the deal too? or does toto keep you under lock and key and out of the paddock?"

"who i am with is not my father's concern." you were trying to deflect, this was about the deal not you basically being used as a tool to entice the driver.

max chuckled, "i'm sure. if you showed up to the paddock with a mclaren boy or worse a red bull one, i'm sure he'd be quite happy."

not if it was you, you thought.

the dinner was alright, the entire time you felt like you were playing a mental chess that you were unable to really enjoy the meal. whatever pieces max put down as he ate and drank wine, you had a comeback.

it wasn't until the check came and he snatched it out of your hands before you could read the full price.

"my treat." he said, "it's impolite for a man to make the woman pay. even if she's trying to manipulate him."

"i'm not trying to manipulate you, i'm showing you options."

he laughed, "right, right. your foot rubbing against my leg and the cute little faces you keep making are only for buisness purposes."

you looked away, not denying him. he found it endearing. he'd give toto wolff credit, using his daughter to seduce him into signing a contract was a bold move. but max was less interested in a mercedes ride, but rather how did the head prinicpal's daughter ride herself.

"do you want to go back to my hotel?" he asked boldly after he paid the hefty bill, "iron out more of the details without so many people possibly hearing us." you weren't going to be doing much talking when you got back to his hotel room.

you smiled and reached across the table for him, you ran a manicured nail down his wrist, "i was just thinking the same thing."

the hotel room was nice, but not as nice as max's hands on you as he unbuttoned your blouse, his lips on your neck. it felt hot being in the room with him.

you got the belt off his pants and pressed yourself further up against him as you stuck your hand down his pants. his lips found yours and you whined into the kiss.

clothes were not an option for the evening, max wanted to see it all. what toto wolff had been hiding this whole time, his precious daughter about to be fucked by a driver for red bull. that would make quite the story.

max undressed you and you in turn undressed him. you got on the large bed and had him pushing you down fully onto it and climbing on top of you. you moaned into the next kiss as you felt max's heavy erection rub against you.

"intimidated?" he asked.

"of you? no." you replied.

he chuckled and got back on his heels between your legs. he grabbed you by the hips quickly and got your bottom half closer to him. his cock threatening to sink into your sweet pussy.

you held onto the bed as he slipped his cock into you. then wrapped your arms around him afterwards when he leaned in for a searing kiss. you wrapped your legs around him and he started to thrust into you. you gasped, "holy shit." close to his ear.

he looked at you once more, those blue eyes clouded with lust as he pulled you in for a hot kiss and moved against you. the heat in the room thickened as the two of you rutted against one another on the bed.

the kisses were sloppy, the sound of fucking was woven in with the sounds of your heavy breathing. max's thrusts took the wind out of you as you held onto him. it felt painfully intimate for a one night stand.

but in the back of your mind, you knew you'd be tumbling in the sheets with max verstappen more than once. his lips trailed down your neck as he held you by the shoulders for leverage, moving you up and down his cock with each heavy thrust.

"you look good." he said.

you chuckled, "you're not too bad yourself. usually drivers i bed are bad at sex."

he smirked, "i guess you do have the full paddock at your disposal." he didn't know if you were saying it to strike jealousy in him. he added, "but i have a feeling that they'll be less than when i'm done with you."

you looked him in the eyes, as you met his pace with the roll of your hips, "don't get a big head there, verstappen. if you do your helmet won't fit anymore."

he pulled you into another hot kiss and continued to move against you. you could feel your heartbeat in your chest as he pushed up against you.

"i bet your father would have a fit if he saw you like this. under me, like a good girl." he remarked when he broke the kiss, "he expected for you to get me drunk and sign some papers. not end up in bed with me, with my cock deep inside of you."

you tangled your fingers in his short hair and lined your mouth up with his. you said to him, "can you shut up about my father?"

"why?" he asked, "want a daddy then."

"calm the ego, verstappen."

he leaned in a little closer, his thrusts were getting sloppier, "can't, not when i'm balls deep in you, wolff." then pressed his lips against yours. he felt a shudder through his body as he felt you tighten around him.

in the kiss you clung onto him and moaned as you came. your thighs tightened around his waist as you felt the rush of euphoria through your body. when you started to come down, you maintained the kiss and kept your grip on him.

when max broke the kiss, you could see the sexual haze in his eyes as he gave you a few more hard thrusts before he shoved every last centimeter inside of you and finished.

it wouldn't dawn on you till the next morning that neither of you used protection.

"good girl." he said between pants.

you looked at him, arm still around his shoulders and your other hand in his hair, "not too bad yourself, max."

he pulled out and kissed you once more. his soaked, softening cock was pressed against your slit. he pulled away from the kiss and held your face for a moment, "will your father be worried if you're back late?"

you looked at him dead in the eyes and said, "i honestly don't care about him right now. i have my eye on the prize and that's to cum again. i need you, max."

"that kind of attitude might make me come to mercedes." he chuckled before he kissed you once more.

-

toto wolff was the type of man to get what he wanted. he was good that way, he knew exactly how to move the pieces. but sometimes the pieces surprised him.

like how his only daughter ended up in bed with max verstappen. and while you claimed that it was a one time thing for the benefit of mercedes! the timelines didn't add up when you told your father over dinner close to four months after that you were four weeks pregnant.

and the father was the current champion.

toto may have spat out his wine during dinner at the news. but little did he know that verstappen was a lot more willing to join mercedes if it meant being closer to his new woman. the head principal of the mercedes team believed that his future grandson would look a lot nicer in a black, silver and white onesie rather than the garish colours of red bull.

maybe the conditions that led to champion signing to a new team were unconventional and most likely to never be repeated. but as he watched you meet max at the paddock and grin as you pressed your forehead against his helmet, toto couldn't be too angry. business is messy and sacrifices had to be made. for toto that meant accepting max as a future son-in-law.

he did however believe he was far too young to be a grandfather. <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Touch of Sweetness 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that's not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“So I thought we could go berry picking,” you suggest. “I saw it on the news. They’re going to be having a whole strawberry fest on this farm--” 

Estelle, Candy, and Jada sit at the table with you, sipping their fancy lattes as you nurse a hot chocolate. Caffeine always makes you so jumpy. Still, you could’ve got a tea and felt a little less childish. They always tend to make you feel a bit simple. Especially your sister, Jada. 

“Oh, look who just walked in,” Estelle raises her filled in brows. 

Candy cranes next to you and turns back with a gasp. You peer over your shoulder and see the large blond man as he joins the queue, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets casually. You squint as the person in front of him peeks back and moves frantically out of his way. You’re curious as the line scatters before him and he steps up to the counter without wait. 

You face the table again as the girls gape, “about the berries...” you begin. 

“Oh be quiet. You’re always talking about such stupid things,” Jada says. “What do you think he’s doing here?” 

“Well, he can go wherever he wants, can’t he?” Estelle intones. 

You don’t get the big deal. That man is huge, sure, but why are they so concerned. 

“It’s not stupid,” you argue. “We can bake after--” 

“Oh my god, grow up,” Candy barks. “Look at him...” 

You harrumph. You were nice enough to buy their drinks and once again, you’re pushed into the corner. You’re a nice person but they make you have un-nice thoughts. 

“Who cares?” You pout. 

“Whatever. Don’t be a baby because no one wants to go to a farm and get attacked by bees,” Jada snips. 

“Fine, I’ll go alone,” you stand and gather up your bag and cup. 

“Please, do.” Your sister chirps. 

“Ha, you are always so dramatic,” Candy cackles. 

You feel like crying. They’re always laughing at you. You tell your parents as much but they just come back with the same old excuse. ‘She’s your sister.’ 

Yes, well you’re an adult and so is Jada and she doesn’t need to be such a bully. You go up to the counter to hand over your used mug to the barista. 

“Thank you, it was very good,” you say. “Is it real cocoa?” 

“Um, I think so,” the girl behind the counter says. “Have a good day.” 

“You too,” you smile. Well, you don’t feel so bad now. 

You turn and head for the door. As you get there, that big blond man does too. He’s right ahead of you. And aware of you. He pulls the door inward and nods you outside. He has a bright pink box under his arm with the cafe’s logo on it. 

“Oh, thank you,” you duck your head and scurry out, sending one last look to your sister and her friends as they squint back at you. No, not at you, at that man. 

As you step outside, so does he. 

“Excuse me,” he calls after you before you can flee back home to mope. 

“Yes,” you stop and spin back so your ankles twist. 

“I suppose it’s not my place but I overheard you talking about berry picking? It sounds like a fun time and my... partner, she’s in need of distraction. Would you be able to tell me exactly where I can find this farm?” He asks. 

You’re shocked. He must have very good hearing. Or maybe you really are dramatic. 

You smile. His voice is deep and warm. Cozy, just like his beard. 

“Yes, it’s called Ulster’s Ridge,” you explain. “I’m not sure where exactly, I haven’t looked it up, but it’s all next week.” 

“Mm,” he nods thoughtfully. “It seems you don’t have anyone to go with.” 

“You... heard all that?” You look away bashfully. 

“Not very nice. Those are friends?” He wonders. 

“My sister. They’re her friends. Not mine, I guess,” you bat your lashes at the admittance stings in your eyes. “I’ll go by myself.” 

“That’s brave but if it isn’t too forward, my partner, she could use a friend. I’m not sure she’d like to be stuck with only me much longer.” He laughs lightly, “I’m afraid I can be a bit much myself.” 

“Oh, I... if she doesn’t mind, I guess,” you say. “I wouldn’t want to crash a date.” 

“Not at all,” he insists. “Might I have a name to give her? I don’t think she’d handle a ‘I met a strange woman today and chatted her up’ without more detail.” 

You giggle. He’s funny. “Sure,” you give your name. 

“Ah, lovely,” he praises. “My name is Thor. Odinson.” 

“It’s nice to meet--” you raise your hand and pause as the name strikes a familiar chord. Oh. Thor. When you pictured the infamous mafioso, you didn’t imagine a teddy bear of a man. 

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he grins and shakes your hand, his large one swallowing it up. “I promise, I’m not so vicious as they say I am. And how could anyone be so to a sweetheart like you?” 

“I... thanks, sir,” you say. 

“Thor, please. Only my men call me sir,” he squeezes and lets go of your hand. “I will see you for berry picking.” He takes his phone out. “I only need your number and I will have my lady choose a date.” 

“Oh, sure,” you accept his cell with a slight tremble. 

You bow your head as you focus on entering your number. You sense movement nearby and turn your head to the cafe window. You only realise then you’re standing right in front of your sister’s table. 

You sniff and hand the phone back with a smile, “thanks. I can’t wait.” 

“I look forward to it,” he says. He gets closer and leans in, “I know family can be tough. Don’t let your sister dull your shine, sweetness.” He winks and sidesteps you, “I hope your day gets brighter, little one.” 

“You too, Mr. Odinson,” you call after him and wave. 

“Thor,” he booms back over his shoulder as he struts away. 

You turn to look at your sister. Her and the others look gobsmacked. You smile wide and drop your hand. You don’t need them. More berries for you and your new friend. Whoever she is. 

[starsofjewels]

GREETINGS!! was wondering if you feel up for it if you could do a tyrion x autistic reader? idk how you could make autism fit into the GoT world but I always feel like an outsider even in the real world and i feel tyrion would be one of the few who'd actually be accepting and not judgemental

A Kitty Cat in the Lion’s Den

Tyrion Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

(Feat.) Tywin Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

CONTENT: Autistic meltdown, small! Mention of blood/ injury, self-deprecation, the Lannisters are their own warning

Word count: 1.5k (lil pookie bear)

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hi, beautiful. I absolutely loved this request !! This was only semi triggering to write, and I hope you like it. <3

I’ve just started back at college, so the drip might be dry (not that it wasn’t to begin with). I may or may not have published this during a Free Study period…

This is proof I don’t just write Gregor Clegane fics. But I do love big squishy man and his cock.

I think I probably need to make a masterlist..

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

(A teeny PSA before we begin- I, unsurprisingly given the shit I upload on here, am autistic. I’ve struggled with it my whole life, and this is an interpretation of my own experience with autism. ASD is, as the name suggests, a spectrum, so this can’t really be a generalised fic. I put my own personal experiences with my condition into this, so if you’re also autistic/ otherwise neurodivergent and this doesn’t fit your vibes, that’s why. I can’t really explain it any other way, so yeah, here you go.)

Your entire life has served as a reminder that, whether by your own fault or some cruel will of the Gods, you are not wanted. You are the outsider, the youngest Lannister, not beautiful enough to marry off young and, decidedly, not male. Lord Tywin is consistently busy with his duties as the Hand, Tyrion hides with his wines and his whores, and Jaime has his own place in the Red Keep. You are forced to sit with your sister and her ladies, who talk too loudly and prattle on about nonsense.

Cersei, you have long established, does not like you. You aren’t really sure anyone likes you, in the traditional sense, but you know that your sister only keeps you around for fear of Tywin’s wrath. There is something in the back of your mind that remembers a younger, softer Cersei putting you in her lap, of brushing your hair and putting it in gold bows. But, that was before. Before you could walk or talk properly, before you spouted random facts on unasked for topics, before she realised you were different.

Everyone knows you are different, and no one can explain why. Not even you. All they know is to stay away from you, all they know is they’ll never understand how your little mind works.

So, you sit as nicely as you can on the outside of Cersei’s circle of ladies, and you try to focus on your sewing. You don’t like sewing, but it’s what all of the noblewomen do to pass the time, and all you want is to fit in.

“Your sewing is coming on well, my lady.”

The septa tilts your sewing slightly to look at it just a little more. It’s supposed to be a gift for your father, and it is not good. You see every uneven stitch, all of the oddities and bumps in your work that make it so you can hardly look at it. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t even sew properly.

“The stitching is all wrong…”

She takes your hands as you try, again, to pick out your newest stitch, a learned behaviour with you. Despite being with you near your whole life, since you weaned off of your nurse, you aren’t sure the septa completely understands your fascination of perfection,

“It is fine,” Her voice is soft, but you can feel her disappointment, “you are still learning, my lady, some mistakes are natural. You do not need to pull it apart- again.”

You jump when Cersei’s ladies giggle at some joke you haven’t heard, the woman beside you takes your hand, and you are reminded why you keep her so close. At least, in some way, she understands what you like and what upsets you.

Tea is served for the ladies. They give you what Cersei likes, what her ladies eat, green and red things that squish and squelch in your mouth and taste like you’ve eaten rags. And the queen sees you push them around your plate, and scoffs.

“At least try it, sister,” She sips from her wine. You feel each of her noblewomen shift, in turn, to look at you, “a Lannister lady can’t just survive off of the children’s food you eat, we can’t all eat nothing but cakes and plain bread all day.”

But you don’t, and you starve. Tywin will get you something later, you’re sure of it, as he sighs, and gently suggests you’ll need a more varied diet if you’re to marry a good husband.

The women’s giggles practically turn to cackles, which do not stop for what feels like hours. You wish they’d stop, or that you could understand what they find so utterly hilarious, so at least you may join their hysteria. You’ve put your sewing down in your lap, and you fiddle with your hair. The sept doesn’t like that, she guides your work back into your hands.

“Your father doesn’t like it if you mess your hair, sweet girl, you know that,” Her hands find your hair, carefully untangling the knots you’ve made, “try a few more stitches.”

And then, inevitably, it happens. You prick your finger on your needle, and a soft ruby comes from your noble, incomprehensible skin.

Throwing your project to the ground, you rush off as fast as your legs can manage. No one comes to find you.

You are long practised with the subtle art of trying not to cry. You pace back and forth, away from anything and everything, your hands in your hair as you do. The tears in your eyes hurt, they make you tired, and only add to your humiliation. You can do nothing right, why can you do nothing right?

You think of your sister, of perfect, beautiful, poised Cersei- She has a gaggle of women to do her bidding she is loved, and desires and you doubt she paces the halls trying not to cry. She is the lion queen, and you are her kitty-cat of a sister.

And then, you hear your name called. Followed by hurried footsteps toward you. Tyrion takes your hands in his, but you cannot even look at him.

“Has someone upset you? Cersei?”

All you can do is give him whines in response. You feel a sob bubbling in your throat, and you cannot give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Tell me.”

So you look down, you watch his eyes change from confusion, to the pity you are so used to seeing. But he is your older brother, and you know he won’t run back to Cersei, like Jaime would.

It comes in one, huge splurge, as tears fall against your skin and ruin the pretty powders your maids spent so long putting on you this morning,

“I- Was making a gift for Father-” You gasp, “And they didn’t give me anything to eat, and- and the sewing was terrible, but Septa is lying and saying it’s good and-” Another. “And I cut myself!”

His arms wrap around you, and he puts his head against you. Though much smaller than you, it offers greater comfort than he knows it does. All you can do is sob. You feel like a child.

No words are spoken as he takes you down to the kitchens, and puts you at the staff table. You are given something you eat with relish, and get a plate of pudding for your effort. There is no need for you to have any medical attention for your injury, but he has it wrapped anyway. A psychological comfort, if nothing else.

Tyrion helps you into bed, letting you reach out for the rag dolls your sister claims you’re too old for. You want your father, you want him to go and tell off Cersei, but you have your brother instead, and he at least semi-understands what it’s like to be different.

“I’m sorry,” you turn and look up at him,

“Sorry?”

He stands, walking to your window to look out at the courtyard below.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

Tyrion is going somewhere with this, you know that much, but what, you are left wondering,

“I see… my brother.”

“Yes, you do. But the world? What does the world see? They see a drunk, lustful little man with a lion on his chest he doesn’t deserve.”

Something in you knows that it’s true. Tyrion is nothing more than his condition to the eyes of most in the Keep, most of the kingdom.

“You, you look like a Lannister. Your brokenness is inside. And I wish I could understand it.”

“It’s alright-” You sit up, clutching your doll, “It’s just… what it is. I have you, I have Father.”

Tyrion almost scoffs, he comes back from the window, passing you your water,

“Yes, you get Father, but that’s because you are utterly adorable.”

“I am adorable, aren’t I?”

“And humble, it appears.”

When Tyrion leaves, he kisses your forehead, and you know he is going to tell Father. You are the one thing they share something of a common interest in, and you suspect Tywin will make an appearance at some point. You’re right, of course.

It is Tywin’s heartbeat you listen to to calm yourself down for sleep. Your father strokes your hair, half-dozing himself. A soft, sweet moment that you are reminded Tyrion doesn’t have the privilege of.

Cersei is no longer allowed to be your main caretaker, you spend your afternoons out in the gardens, or sit entertaining yourself in Tywin’s solar. Tyrion takes you on walks, and there is something of a peaceful normality brought about.

You are still terribly disappointed in how Tywin’s gift turns out, it looks like a child made it, and when you become obviously quite upset over the manner, you have the Old Lion and his younger son to calm you. He loves it, he assures you, and Tyrion is so enamoured by it he requests his own. You know they are simply making you feel better, but you let it happen anyway.

And, perhaps, life is not so bad after all.

[babydollmarauders]

OURS — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n and Trevor’s relationship is constantly being criticized by outsiders but they know their love is real.

warnings: references to nsfw activities, hate from outsiders, dialogue heavy, not proofread

notes: written semi-quickly, shorter than my other recent works, idk how i feel about this one, but it’s done and i hope y’all like it. ending is kinda iffy but oh well.

it seems like there’s always someone who disapproves of Trevor and i’s relationship.

my parents don’t like his carefree and confident demeanor. his younger brother didn’t trust me because i was someone new. his friends didn’t like that i write songs about exes and my relationships.

but most of all his fans and the media, judge us like they know us personally.

mostly judging me.

as a singer, my every move was criticized and picked apart. what i wore was either too homely or too dressed up. i was too skinny or too big. my heels were too tall, but then my nike’s were too ‘tom-boyish’. but the judgement had only seemed to get worse once i started dating Trevor.

suddenly his fans were saying i wasn’t good enough for him. analyzing our body language in photos and claiming that i didn’t act like i liked him. saying i was using him to further my fame.

but on the other side, i had my fans commenting that i was too good for him. citing his previous playboy ways and saying that he wasn’t smart enough or mature enough for me. claiming his bad boy attitude drew me in and that i would ‘come to my senses’ soon.

***

y/nofficial

liked by trevorzegras, gracieabrams, and 151,308 others

y/nofficial summer with my boy toy <3

tagged trevorzegras

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trevorzegras my beautiful girl, you were off to a great start in the beginning and then you added the last photo

y/nofficial wdym? i think that ones my favorite!

trevorzegras whatever floats your boat mamas

gracieabrams cutest couple in the world ♥️

y/nofficial you’re the real loml <3

gracieabrams shhh i thought we weren’t telling trevor?

user26 NEW MUSIC COMING SOON?!

user81 i wonder if it’s about Trevor

jackhughes was i cut out of the last pic?! i thought you loved me, y/n 😪

y/nofficial in the wise words of Ariana Grande “you ain’t my boyfriend”

user40 the way she’s leaning away from him in the 5th pic? oh she’s over him

user95 she’s finally over the bad boy thing, i guess

user02 thank god! i don’t want her to get hurt!

user73 @/user02 HER to get hurt?! she’s gonna end up writing a slandering song about my baby Trevor and painting him to be an asshole

user02 @/user73 lmao yeah, well the shoe fits. why shouldn’t she write a song showcasing his true colors?

user73 @/user02 i’m not about to fight with a Y/N stan of all people— have fun supporting your famefucker

user02 @/user73 oh please, she doesnt need to use your little hockey asshole for fame when she’s already more well known than him

user12 we love a PR relationship 🫶

***

my converse squeak against the marble floors as i leave my execs meeting, catching the attention of many up and coming artists that are waiting in the lobby. i can feel their gazes following my every move, from when i stop in front of the elevator to when i press the down button, and i can’t help but laugh in my head; reminiscing of when i was the same way. star-struck and in awe whenever i saw any artists leaving the same doors i just walked out of.

but now, having been in the business for two years, that feeling has come and gone, replaced by small talk with those very same people that i once looked up to.

“hi.” i smile politely at a redheaded girl that sits close to the elevators, a notebook in her hand and stars in her eyes.

she looks around, as if searching, before she lets out an awkward chuckle. “oh- hi!”

the elevator dings twice before the doors open to another crowd of wannabe pop stars, and i step aside to let them out before waving a goodbye to the doe-eyed redhead and stepping into the elevator.

i’m excited to get back to my boyfriend, but that excitement vanishes when i scroll through twitter on my uber home.

—

—

oh- that was fast.

i can’t help but scroll through the replies and quote tweets, and by the time i arrive back home, i’m disheartened to say the least.

i thought i was being nice by greeting her? even if i couldn’t stay and talk. but apparently i should take this as a lesson for the future, don’t say hi to anyone unless i can stay and chat.

and my mood only worsens when i make it into the house, calling out my boyfriend’s name, to which i get no response.

“Trev?” my voice echoes off the walls of our home as i step into our bedroom, in search of the six foot tall hockey player. but i come up empty, finding that he still isn’t home from training camp.

i slide my phone from my pocket, drafting up a text before ultimately trying my luck at a phone call instead.

the outgoing ring reaches my ear twice before it stops, the call picking up.

“hey babe, what’s up?” Trevor’s tone is light and airy, painting an immediate smile across my lips.

“hey, i was just checking in.” i sit upon the fuzzy white blanket that’s folded along the foot of our bed, running my hands over the soft fabric. “i thought training was supposed to end at noon?”

“oh, yeah, it did.” he confirms, and i can hear someone else talking in the background. “Jimbo and i decided to grab lunch and catch up a bit.”

“oh, okay.” i nod, despite the fact that he can’t see me, and i can hear him conversing with someone.

“shh. hold on.” he tells someone. “he wants to say hi.”

i laugh as Jamie’s voice comes through the line. “HEY Y/N!!!”

“hi Jame!” i reply, listening as he grunts, wrestling the phone from Trevor, i assume.

“i’ve missed you!” he sounds closer now, while Trevor sounds farther away, calling out for his phone back, confirming my suspicions. “when do i get to see you again?”

“i’ve missed you too. if it’s alright with Trevor, and if you’re free, you can come over for dinner tonight?” i tell him. “i can go to the store and grab stuff to make my garlic and basil chicken pasta.”

“oh my favorite! i’m in! i don’t care what Trevor has to say about it, to be honest.” his response causes me to laugh, while my boyfriends calls out an offended ‘hey!’

“see you later!” Jamie yells, as i assume Trevor gets his phone back.

“did you need anything else, babe?” Trevor asks distractedly.

“no, nothin’ else.” i stand, gathering my car keys from my nightstand. “actually, i’m gonna go grocery shopping, can you think of anything we need?”

“condoms,” he replies unabashed, and i blush at the thought that Jamie heard him. “and frosted flakes. i finished ‘em off this morning.”

i roll my eyes before teasing, “the condoms or the frosted flakes?”

“both.” my skin heats up at the reminder of our morning activities, Trevor having woken me up before the sun even came up.

“oh- uh- okay.” Trevor laughs as i stumble over my words. “i’ll grab some more…of both.”

“thanks, love you!” he waits for my reply before hanging up, and i pad out of the bedroom, slipping my shoes back on by the front door before heading out to my car. i wasn’t big on driving, usually letting Trevor take that responsibility, and avoiding it when possible, so i only really used it when i had to go grocery shopping, relying on ubers to go anywhere else.

i slip into the drivers seat, huffing when i find that Trevor messed with my seat again. a harmless prank he likes to pull, just to see when i drive again and if i’ll notice. i adjust my seat before i pull out of the driveway, the radio playing faintly to fill the silence.

*

i’m nearly done with my shopping trip when it happens.

“he still uses those?” i’m mid-tossing the family size box of Frosted Flakes in the cart when the words reach my ears, and at first, i don’t even notice they’re being spoken to me. “he always said it felt like he was wearing nothing.”

i glance over to find a tall blonde standing next to my cart, staring down at my items.

“i’m sorry?” my brows furrow in confusion.

“oh- the condoms. Skyn Elite? Trevor used them back when he and i used to hook up a couple years ago.” the girl smiles, the supermarket lights reflecting off her sparkly lip gloss. “you’re his new conquest, right? y/n?”

“i’m his girlfriend, yes.” i nod, pursing my lips together in a straight line.

“right,” she nods. “girlfriend. you got the envied title.”

“i guess so.”

she gives another falsely innocent smile. “good luck keeping it! he’s insatiable, is he not? seemed like he was always keeping an eye out for the next girl.”

i’ve never particularly cared about the ghosts of Trevor’s hookup past. why would i be? i had them too, so who was i to be bothered by his? besides, right now, he’s mine. i’m the one he comes home to; the one he loves and talks about a future with.

“well, i should get going.” i tell her, already beginning to push the cart towards the end of the aisle, in route to check out. “it was nice to meet you.”

i was lying, sure, but i wasn’t going to let her get to me.

she bids me goodbye as i walk away, and when i glance back, i see her faux smile drop, her eyes rolling as she sneers, turning the other way.

yeah, i pretty much expected that.

*

i’ve just made it into the kitchen, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter, when my phone begins to ring, buzzing in my pocket with an incoming call.

i do an awkward dance of trying to free my hand from a twisted bag handle, before retrieving the vibrating device from my pocket, my fathers contact taking up the screen. pressing accept, i hold the phone up to my ear.

“hey, dad!” i chirp, opening the refrigerator to begin unloading the food.

“hey, pumpkin. what are you up to?” his voice drifts in my ear as i put away a gallon of milk.

“just unloading groceries.” i inform him. “what are you and mom doing?”

“oh, nothing.” he sighs. “just missing our little girl.”

i laugh at his dramatics.

“i know, i need to come visit.” i stuff a few cartons of berries and a bag of grapes into the fruit drawer before shutting the fridge.

“so catch me up, honey. what’s new?”

“nothing really. i’m working on some new music, and i had an exec meeting this morning to discuss how the album is coming. but other than that it’s same old same old.”

i open the cupboard, taking care of the box of cereal and a couple bags of chips as i speak.

“and you’re still dating the uh…” he trails off. “the one with the tattoos?”

i can hear the disapproval oozing from his voice and my eyes roll in my head.

“Trevor, yes.” i confirm, walking down the hallway to our bedroom and placing a few things on Trevor’s nightstand before setting a new bottle of shampoo on our bathroom counter.

“yeah, him.” he sneers, and it’s then that i hear the front door open, two sets of footsteps reaching my ears. a smile spreads across my face as Trevor calls out my name. “i don’t understand why anyone would do that to their body. that’s permanent, ya know.”

“mhm.” i hum in disinterest. “hey, dad, i gotta go. i’ll call you later.”

“oh alright, honey. love you!”

“love you too.” i hang up the phone as Trevor steps into the room, smiling at the sight of me.

“there you are.” he beams. his arms snake around my waist, pulling me against him, and his head dips down to bring his lips to mine.

“here i am.” i mumble against his lips, causing a chuckle to arise from his throat.

“Jamie is in the living room. followed me home claiming that he had to see you.” he tells me, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his close friend.

“yeah, i invited him over for dinner.” i inform him. my hands cup the back of his neck, pulling him back down for another kiss.

my whole body relaxes, any tension disappearing when his lips meet mine. his eyes scan my face as he pulls away, and his faces falls, his lips forming an exaggerated frown.

“what’s wrong?” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear before pulling my head to his chest.

his heartbeat echoes in my head, calming me immensely.

“nothing.” i mutter, my eyes falling shut when he begins rubbing circles on my back.

“i don’t believe you.”

“it’s nothing, really.” i insist. “nothing that’s actually bothering me. just a little annoyed.”

“what annoyed you, baby?” he sways us back and forth and his hand on my back trails down to tickle at my side, making me giggle.

“well,” i sigh and he pushes me back to look into my face. “i said hi to a girl at warner today-”

he hums, encouraging me to keep talking.

“but it was just a quick ‘hi’. apparently she’s a fan of yours, and she thought it was rude of me to greet her and then not stay and chat.” i explain. “so she took to twitter to say so.”

Trevor huffs, his nose scrunching in annoyance. “well that’s just stupid. you don’t owe anyone a conversation…. except me. because you love me, obviously.”

i laugh at his joke, making his face light up at his successful attempt to cheer me up.

“what else, baby?”

“well then, at the store, i ran into one of your ex-hookups.” i continue, and his brows thread together in confusion.

“which, ya know, doesn’t bother me.” i clarify. “but she made a comment on the condoms we use and implied that our relationship wouldn’t last long.”

“our love is not hers to speculate on.” he gruffs out in annoyance, and i nod along.

“i know. so i walked away.”

“i’m proud of you, love.” he presses a kiss to my forehead, a smile resting upon my face as he does. “is that all?”

“almost.” i breathe out. “then i got home, and my dad called as i was putting away the groceries.”

“okay.” he nods, obviously confused why i would be annoyed about my father calling.

“and he made some snide remarks about your tattoos.” Trevor barks out a laugh at that, quite used to people commenting on the art that adorns his skin.

“i ignored them, and hung up pretty much right after, because you got home. but, i just wish he could look past them, because then maybe he’d see the kind, funny guy that you are and understand why i’ve given my heart to you.”

his eyes squint as he grins at my words, bending his neck to pepper kisses across my nose and cheeks. i squeal at the affection and he pulls back to look me in the eyes.

“baby, i don’t care what your dad thinks of me. only that you like me. and i’m pretty sure that you love me just the way i am.”

i nod, biting my lip and holding back a smile. my cheeks turn hot, a blush settling over them, and he smirks at the sight.

“i don’t want you to worry your pretty little mind, baby.” he coos. “so someone was wrongfully upset that you didn’t take time out of your day to talk to them— who cares? people like to throw rocks at things that shine. and you, my darling, shine so beautifully bright. they’re just jealous.”

i roll my eyes at his cheesy statement, but the sentiment warms my heart. “thank you, Trev.”

“any time, baby.” he pulls me in for another hug, my head resting on his chest again. “our love is ours. nobody else’s. what other people have to say about it, and about us, doesn’t matter.

“you hands belong in mine, my heart belongs to yours, and no matter what life throws at us, i’m by your side.”

i open my mouth to respond, but i’m cut off by another voice.

“aww, that was sweet.”

i lift my head from Trevor’s chest, our heads both turning towards the entrance to our bedroom to find Jamie standing there with a cheesy smile.

“Jimmy, what are you doing in here?” Trevor lets out a wheezy laugh at his friend, his head dropping back and his shoulders shaking. the sound is like music to my ears.

this man.

i am so irrevocably in love with him.

“i got bored.” Jamie shrugs. “you guys were taking forever.”

[lowkeyrobin]

MONTY FINCH ; just kiss

summary ; basically the edwin & monty swing set scene

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; reader doesn't know shit about astrology, word vomit

track ; like real people do, hozier

word count ; 951

masterlist

Monty slowly swings himself on the swingset, the metal chain links creaking at every slight movement. He stays low to the ground, feet inches from the dirt below.

You swing beside him, a wired earbud hanging from your right ear, the left open so you could hear him if he spoke. The metal creaking enters your left ear, your music entering the right.

"How do you know so much about astrology?" You ask him, leaning your head against the metal chainlinks on the left. "Like, I obviously don't get it. How and why, like... how does it work?"

He smiles, looking up at you. He rests his hands on the right side's chain link, cozy fingerless gloves protecting him from the cold metal. "Basically, the way the stars align kind of predict fate in people, the way they act and think," He shrugs, trying to give you a basic definition.

"How do zodiac signs work then?" You ask

"Well, it's not like... science-confirmed, actually disproven, but believe what you will. But the constellations in the stars change per every month, aligning to its matching sign. Like, take Edwin for example" He speaks. "He's a Capricorn. They're usually described as ambitious, practical and focused"

"Sounds a lot like him" You shrug. "So it's just kind of a coincidence that you act a certain way with when you were born?"

"Yeah, basically."

You hum.

You're both silent for a moment, trying to find something to turn the conversation too.

"What's it like being a ghost?" He asks. "I know you've been with Charles and Edwin for God knows how long, but, like, what's it like?"

You shrug. "Solving mysteries and supernatural stuff. It's what it sounds like. But being dead is a lot like being alive. Most people just can't see you, you can't feel things, like your sensory skills are broken" You wiggle your fingers, aware that your fingerpads were basically broken. "You don't need to sleep or eat, but you have free will to change clothes"

He nods, following along.

"It doesn't feel the way you'd think it would. You don't know when you die, you just keep on going before you realize no one can see you or you see you're walking outside your body" You continue, "It's like everything always feels like TV static, but after a while you get used to it and it feels like it less and less. But when you're really down and lost, it comes back stronger than ever."

"Sounds like shit"

"It is" You chuckle. "Wish I got to say goodbyes to the people I love. Death is so unexpected but... it's the only thing everyone, everything, on Earth has in common. Death is after us all"

He nods, eyes softened. "You speak very wisely. Not in an Edwin way because you've been dead since the early 1900s. But you know a lot, you're very knowledgeable, you know how to speak your mind"

You softly smile. "Thanks, Monty"

Your faces stand inches apart between the swings, your eyes just examining each other's faces.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have nice hair?" You ask him.

He airily giggles. "No, actually. Thank you. You have nice hair too, for being dead"

"Well, it doesn't grow, so I never have to book an appointment at the ghost barber's," you joke with a giggle. "Another pro of being dead. Less people, more me"

He smiles. "You have a very attractive smile, y'know that?"

You glance away, a little flustered. "Oh, thanks"

He glances between your lips and your eyes, admiring your harmonious features, the way everything you owned made you special and unique. He couldn't imagine you looking any different, you were perfect to him.

That look in his eyes killed you, that smile, God, it was to die for. You'd do anything to just pause time and stare at his little smile, to stare at his infatuated gaze.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before? Or like, before you died?" He asks quietly.

You shake your head no. "Charles said kissing when you're dead is a lot different than when you're alive. I dunno what he meant by it though"

"Wanna figure it out?"

Your lips curl into a smile, which you'd failed to keep contained. You snicker, looking away for a moment.

"You seem very desperate, Monty"

"I am," He admits. "You're very attractive. We should just kiss, like normal people do."

You roll your eyes before quickly leaning toward him, pulling yourself closer. You place your hands on the sides of his face, your thumbs and index fingers against the sides of his ears. He rests his left hand against your neck, his right hand on top of your left hand.

His lips tasted like oranges. He smelled like cucumbers and eucalyptus leaves. He was soft and warm, like fresh baked cookies. You didn't know if kissing was like this when you were alive, but when you were dead, you noticed every small thing, you could feel him, like his aura was rolling off his skin and burying itself inside you. It did so like it was trying to make sure you couldn't pull away, so you'd just fall in love with him on the spot.

He pulls away to breathe, something you didn't need. He looks up at you, scanning your face like he was attempting to read your expression.

"You taste like oranges," you comment. "But, like... do you feel every single thing when you kiss me? Like I could feel your feelings, if that makes sense"

He shakes his head no. "That's cool" He smiles. "Being dead sounds really cool"

"Don't say that"

"Oh, sorry"

"I'm fucking with you. C'mere"

[artificialbreezy]

Hey let's imagine Jolly chasing you down with a mask on and holding a knife to you while he fucks you hard and makes you cry(cause the crying turns him on)

i’ll never know peace with you, god fucking dammit. sorry i switched up a teeny tiny bit i got so mf carried away.

This blurb may contain content that is unsettling to some, please continue with caution. your mental health matters.

TW: a game of cat and mouse (he chases her), masks, crying, mean!jolly, knife play, a teeny tiny bit of blood, no actual p in v, mentions of breeding

it’s his favorite game. before he leaves for tour he sends you up the cabin, just so you can relax and decompress and he’ll join you when he gets home. he’ll go straight there from the airport.

and you never hear his car pull up, you’re too invested in the book you’re reading when the lights just go out. the panic is only a little at the moment, you’ll go outside, down by the tree line and check the box. quick and easy fix right? wrong.

something in your gut told you not to go down there, stay right in that cabin. go find your phone and call Jolly. he should’ve landed by now. you decided against your better judgement you were fine, nothing bad has ever happened here before.

when you hear the snaps of the branches, and the breathing of someone else behind you that’s when the panic fully set in. no shoes, no phone, just run.

you’d never been in the woods before, Jolly always told you there was no need. he’d take you eventually. you didn’t know where you were going and how you ended up thinking that the woods was the place to hide but fuck it.

seeing what you thought to be a tree, you ran off to the side a little hoping you could catch your breath before you went any further.

what did i get myself into? Jolly’s gonna get home and see my car and not me in the cabin, my phones there and i’m not. oh my god, he’s gonna find me dead. thoughts were running rapid in your brain. this can’t be real. crouching down next to the tree trunk, you set your hand out to balance yourself to met with a shoe, and a dark chuckle.

you didn’t have time to scream before his hand was over your mouth. tears falling at a rapid pace, panic flooding your veins. all you could do was cry.

“missed you a lot, can’t believe you ran from me, pet.” voice was muffled by whatever was covering his face. “promise i won’t hurt you too bad, just wanna play a little game.”

“i’ll give you a head start. i catch you, i ruin you.” his voice was just above a whisper. “run, little lamb.”

my feet were moving faster than my brain. just go. get inside. hide.

i hit the cement outside the front door, a wave of safety rushed over me. taking a breath, i reached for the door knob when a hand much larger than mine pushed itself against the door. “caught you.”

no sounds came out of my mouth, just freezing in time. unable to process fully what was happening, why i was excited, what was gonna happen to me, why was he chasing me?

he stepped forward, placing his hands against my hips. “remember the safe word?” he spoke. “yes,”

that’s all he needed. he picked up, putting half my body over his shoulder. his one hand opening the door, the other creeping up the back of my thigh.

Jolly didn’t have to walk far since the cabin was pretty small. i was falling onto the bed before i had a moment to think. “Jolly, lights”

“no. you trust me yeah?” you nodded up at him. “then you don’t get to see. you’ll feel what i give you, and you’ll say thank you. read that little book i over heard you talking about. does all that dirty, fucked up stuff turn your little brain into mush?”

his hand disappeared from my body. listening to the sound of rustling next the bed. “been thinking about all that gross, mean things huh?” there was a piece of cold metal against my ankle, slowly dragging it closer to my center.

he pressed the point into the flesh of my thigh harder, a sharp pain shooting up your leg. “pain is pleasure, pet. always remember that.” the metal no longer cold, and unwelcoming.

“thank you, Jolly.” breathless words leaving my lips.

he chuckled, dragging the blade up the front of my thighs. stopping once he reached the lace of my panties. “think if i were to press this against your cunt, you make it shine?” the back of the blade worked its way against the clothed part of my center. pushing against the damp spot that’s been building since i felt his breath at the tree line.

“would you look at that? think you really are pathetic. this turning you on that much? don’t even need to get you prepped huh? could just slip right in there. listen to the sweet whine that you make when i stretch out your cunt after a while.”

rolling my hips against the blade, a whine rolling out of my throat. his big hand pressed firmly on my lower stomach, pushing me back against the bed. “stay. still.” he grumbled.

his fingers pushed the lace away from my slit, soft touch against my skin. “mmm, knew you’d be ready. you’re fucking soaked, already making such a mess.” finger slowly slipping into my hole, “she’s just sucking me in, pet. think she needs more? bet you do, greedy fucking cunt.” his other hand pressing a smack against my thigh.

“feel you squeezing, you close already? fucking pathetic.” his finger curled slightly, lips pressing soft kisses against my mound. “she just needs to be filled up, huh? needs to have my cum leaking out of her just for me to push right back in, can’t waste any of it. wanna see you nice and round. bet you’d like that, walking around showing everyone who you belong to.”

“fucking, shit. Jolly, please.” begging the man to let you have it.

“yeah, come on. let me feel you, baby. ohh, atta girl. there is she.”

his fingers stilled, head laying against my leg. “did so good, thank you for trusting me.”

“always, love you tons.”

i felt his cheeks move, telling me he was smiling.

“i love you too, let’s get this light on and you cleaned up.”

[jenosbliss]

congratulations on 100 followers!! for the event, can I request 17, 18, and 24 for e2l renjun please? thanks and i hope that you have a great 2024! 🩷

pairing. gn!reader x renjun | genre. enemies to lovers | wc. 1.3k | warnings. mentions of stalking and a fight scene

a/n. hii anon, tysm! I’m really sorry for the delay and believe me the fic was much better in my head T-T

“Are you sure you wanna submit this for the final assessment?” Renjun, the vice president of the writing club, tossed a bunch of papers in front of you.

The sky had turned into a pretty shade of red and pink, the kind beauty which appealed to you, heaving a dreamy sigh you were softly gazing at the calming evening view outside the window when Renjun’s monotonous voice was heard, turning the calmness of the moment into annoyance.

“Yes, you got an issue with that?” frowning, you looked up at him and the papers. “No, not at all…” raising his hands in defence he smirked before leaning close to your face “...it’s just that a high schooler could’ve written better than this.” you scoffed at his words, is he for real?

“And who asked your opinion? Who are you… Shakespeare?” standing up you snatched your thesis from his hands and started packing your bags “Shakespeare? Nah. Your project partner? Bingo!” you wondered if he could be any more annoying every time you were together and to your bad luck he was every time. “For Psychology not Literature.” he tsked “Thought you might need some help.”

“I would rather die than seek help from you Renjun.” you hissed before walking out of the room, away from him. “Wait y/n-” God, I can’t stand him.

–

“Fuck him, what does he even think of himself?” cursing you walked out of the cafe holding your iced americano, the only which can get your mind off Renjun. Why am I even thinking about him?

You were walking down the lonely street back to your apartment trying to focus on the delicious taste of your americano when someone called your name in a slurry voice from behind.

“Y/n… good to see you.” Chaeho slurred, stumbling on his way to you. He was drunk, and the look in his eyes made a shiver run down your spine. “Hi Chaeho, how can I help you today?” you asked moving backwards into the alleyway, he kept closing the distance between you both. “Be mine.” he had you now backed up against the wall, leaning down to face you. “I told you I’m not interested, please leave me alone Chaeho” all efforts to get past him went in vain he harshly pushed you into the wall, hovering above you.

“I told you don’t push me to my limits, what are you so proud of? This pretty face?" Everything happened so quickly that your brain stopped working, your body going limp and a feeling of helplessness settled within you.

He lifted his hand, his fingers about to your face when a voice reverberated in that quiet alley “Touch her and you're dead” Renjun hissed walking towards Chaeho and pushing him off you harshly. He fell down and grunted in pain while Renjun carefully held you by your shoulders, eyes checking your face for any injury.

“Fucking hell…” Chaeho stood up letting out a humourless chuckle, stumbling on his feet to reach both of you. “Get behind me.” Renjun moved in front of you to deal with the drunk man standing in front of him. “Leave before I do something you won’t like, Chaeho.” he said angrily, fisting his hands.

“This is the reason huh? You fucking around with this idiot? Choose him over me? You fucking bitch!” Chaeho had completely ignored Renjun’s warning but what happened next left you shaking in fear.

It happened so quickly that you just stood there for a good five seconds processing the scene in front of you. Chaeho had grabbed a brick lying on the road and lunged at you and Renjun tried to protect you which resulted in him getting hit on his arm by that brick. He kicked Chaeho in the stomach, making him fall to the ground, curling his body in pain.

“Fuck” Renjun groaned in pain garbbing his and turning to you “Are you okay?” Is he for real? He’s the one who got hit and still asking you, tears brimmed once again as you rushed towards him gently grabbing his arms “Are you okay? Let’s go please, let's leave.” you cried pulling at the hem of his sleeve gently.

“Let me first make sure he doesn’t bother you again.” he turned towards Chaeho who was on the ground grunting in pain. “Don’t you ever take her name with this filthy mouth of yours…” Renjun yanked his head up, grabbing him by his hair to face him “... and if i ever see you near her again, I’ll not think twice before beating the fucking lights out of you.” he stood up holding your hand and walking out of the alley towards your apartment.

“Can I walk you home?” Renjun asked once both of you were out in a busy street. “Please.” You still cannot get the image of what happened earlier out of your mind and also the thoughts of what could’ve happened if Renjun hadn’t shown up on time.

“Thank you for saving me.” whispering you shifted closer to him when a group of men passed by you. Noticing this Renjun took your hand in his and pulled you to his side. “Don’t thank me for that… also please stop using such dangerous streets especially when you are alone.”

“I’ll never take that route from now… I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.” tears streamed down your cheeks. Renjun for you was someone you had hated with all your heart and now that he protected you, a feeling of guilt settled within you. The day he yelled at you for touching his belongings, you had liked him and were just helping him manage his stuff, you have always assumed the worst of him. Whatever he did always made you loathe him more. But now you reflect back on how wrong you’ve always been, how Renjun has never done anything wrong to you and how he saved you.

“Y/n what happened wasn’t your fault, it’s that jerk who does not what a no means. And you did not drag me into anything, I had to show him his place, he should be thankful I only punched him once.” Renjun chuckled trying to lighten the mood but it only made you think about the worst scenarios.

“You could’ve died Renjun! What if that brick had hit you head instead of your arm? Why did you even save me?” If he hates you then he could’ve just walked past by the whole situation, why did he stop? Why did he help you? Why was he even there on that street?

“It's my life over yours, don't you get that?” He had stopped in his tracks, holding your shoulders firmly. “But why? Don’t you hate me? Hate me so much that you won’t even let me touch your belongings? That you’ll point out my flaws? That I’m an unworthy person in your eyes?” All the questions and feelings you’ve been ignoring since years of knowing him just flew past your lips. How can you think straight in a moment of such raw emotions?

“How could I hate you? Each time I see you or am with you I just fall for you deeper… I like you y/n.” He gently held your face in between his palms, wiping the tears cascading down your cheeks as he looked in your eyes “I love you.” He confessed.

“Then why-” would he pretend to hate you all this time? “The day I yelled at you was because I was so in love with you that the sketchbook you were about to pick up was filled with your sketches and I got nervous and just yelled… I’m really sorry.” He smiled, thumb gently tracing over the softness of your cheeks.

“You’re the most perfect person in my eyes, and I always just wanted to help you achieve what you deserve. I had corrected your essay and was going to give it to you when I saw Chaeho and you. I’m sorry that I hurt you, that weren’t my intentions-”

“I love you Renjun.” Pulling him down, you kissed him softly. “Are you serious? You can’t be joking.” Smiling, you kissed him once again, “I love you. And thank you for the essay but mine’s better.”

“No way, It’s so poorly written!” Renjun fake winced, pulling you in a tight hug and confessing again “I love you.”

navigation.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 follower event 🌷

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

(roger taylor x y/n)

No lock in the studio

tw: NSFW and explicit language!

word count: 2,790

tags: fem! reader, big age gap, unprotected sex, sex in the work place, dirty talk, sassy roger, quickie, oral sex (giving), penetrative sex, nipple pay, aftersex care

You're 24, you work as a sound engineer for a famous label but you didn't realise today would be the day you'd be left alone in a studio with Roger Taylor.

Peter. I need to find Peter, you think to yourself. You're frustrated and it shows. I'm not a fricking secretary. You're walking through the hallways of the studio looking for the sign S-16 on the door. It's the best studio in the building, which makes sense because Peter is very respected here. It's also the furthest and the longer you're walking, the more annoyed you are. You're really hoping he's alone in there right now. The whole reason why you're walking in the first place is because he cut his phone line off. He really hates to be disturbed.

After hopping for a good 5 minutes through the endless hallways, you finally find the said S-16 door. If he was recording right now, the big red sign above the door would be on. You still discreetly check though the small round window and only see him sitting on his chair, his back turned to you, so you knock.

"Come on in.

- Peter, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Carl is out there fuming about god knows what and obviously he sends ME because I've got nothing better to do than run around like his secretary."

He looks amused, which is reassuring for Peter, but you quickly understand when you hear someone coughing behind you. This day isn't getting any better. You sigh and turn around only to find a familiar face smoking a cigarette on the couch behind the door. It takes you a minute to realise who's standing up to greet you and you feel embarrassed for showing your bad temper in front of a client, especially this one.

You know you should get used to meeting artists and act professional but you weren't expecting to meet Roger freakin Taylor.

He smiles at you and you proceed to shake hands.

"Y/N, please meet Roger, Roger, this is Y/N, our very promising sound engineer.

- Very promising, you say? Nice to meet you, Roger greets you.

- Well, I wouldn't go that far, but it's a pleasure to meet you Sir, you smile back trying to keep it cool.

- Sir? God, don't ever call me Sir, I'm not that old, am I?"

Roger and Peter laugh while you stare in disbelief. You stutter and try to take it back but they seem to forget about it when Roger sits next to your colleague. It took you only two minutes to embarrass myself and insult the greatest drummer of all times, great.

"Y/N, what does Carl want that is so urgent?

- A client is freaking out up there and he thinks it's your fault, but this is all I could understand before he sent me off to fetch you like his little pet."

Now, Peter looks pissed. He gets up from his seat with little to no conviction and says:

"I think I know what this is about.. Rog, let me go check on him really quickly. I'm sorry but Carl can be a real pain in the ass sometimes and he won't let it go unless I come find him."

Roger nods and looks understanding. Peter proceeds to go out, so you start following him outside, eager to watch him put Carl back in his place, but a voice stops you.

"Y/N, can I ask for your opinion?"

The drummer looks at you from his seat, waiting for an answer, but all you can think about is how Roger Taylor wants your opinion.

"I'm sorry, he adds sarcastically, I should have called you Miss, I knew I was moving too fast."

Your laugh lights up the room and the tension your previously felt vanishes.

"Much better, thank you, Sir."

Gosh, he looks handsome when he smiles. And when he doesn't smile. Or when he laughs. Of course, you know who Roger Taylor is, you've seen him before on pictures and on the telly, but now that you're face to face with him, you only have one word on your mind and it's gorgeous.

He doesn't look like he needs much to look good. He's wearing a plain white shirt and somehow looks like the most beautiful man on earth. Although, you have to admit that the way he's wearing it, rolled up sleeves, not fitted, with a button that shows a little more than it should, is very suggestive.

"I would like you to hear this demo I recorded with Peter. I think it's missing something but I don't know what."

The music resonates in the studio and you carefully listen to the arrangement. It's got a rock vibe, with a bit of grunge. For a full two minutes, you're focused on the song, so much that you forget about Roger's presence. The music stops but you hit play again.

"Listen here. Great beginning. But how about you take out some of the guitar harmonies to have a much clearer sound in the first verse to build it up towards the end."

Roger frowns and nods, he is focused on what you're saying. You go on about rhythms, musicality, what adjustments he should make to your opinion. He looks surprised, like he didn’t expect you to be invested like this. When you're finally finished, he gives you an impressed look.

"Now I get what Peter meant when he said promising."

You're flattered but can’t hide your smile.

"How long have you been a sound engineer?

- Well, I'd say for about two years.

- Two years and you talk just like Peter.

- That's because he's kinda my mentor and he's the reason why I came here.

- Wait, hold on, how old are you?

- I'm 24, you were not expecting him to get personal with you this quickly which makes you smile.

- Shit, I'm way out of your league then."

You both look at each other with a hint of challenge in your eyes.

"And you're like what? 40? you tease him.

- Try 36, he takes out a cigarette and stares at you while he breathes in.

- I don't mind, you say, looking straight in his eyes with a smirk.

- You don't mind?

- I don't mind, no, you say with a softer voice, never breaking the eye contact."

You don't understand how the mood shifted so quickly, but the room is now filled with an invisible tension. His eyes linger on your body and lurk you up and down. You love how he doesn't even try to hide his attraction to you. He fully looks like he could devour you right now.

You stand up from your seat to come closer to him and sit on the corner of the control table. You're only inches away from each other. His leg is slightly touching yours and this simple friction is almost too much to endure.

You're looking at him from above but his stare makes it so hard to maintain. His gaze is burning your skin. He’s sitting down, full of his cocky attitude, looking up with his doe eyes.

"I think that Peter, you pause, might be coming back, you almost whisper.”

He stands up and slowly pulls you closer with every word he says, his eyes locked into yours at all times.

“Yeah, he says, I think he’ll be back soon.

- We shouldn’t stand so close to each other, then.

- No, you’re right, we shouldn’t.”

But he doesn’t move. If anything, the tension makes it hard for you to not get any closer. His face is only a moment away from touching yours. His eyes, his piercing blue eyes, move between the tip of your nose and your eyes because you’re so close that he can’t even see your lips anymore.

A warm feeling arises from your lower back. It’s his hand, placed on your Venus dimples. It tickles you, very slightly, and the feeling grows on your stomach. The warmth climbs to your chest and shrouds your bosom.

Roger’s raspy voice suddenly brings you back from wherever you were mentally. You almost forgot about where you were.

“What should we do? his hand slowly lingers on your body.

- Maybe, lock the door? you ask with a smile.

- Or maybe not, says Roger.”

He loves the surprised look on your face. There’s something in his eyes - he’s provoking you. It’s impossible to look away, you are entirely focused on him and start to feel dizzy from the heat. His hand, previously placed on your lower-back, embraces your hip while finding a way under your tee-shirt. You shiver. His hands feel so cold on your burning skin.

With his other hand, he lifts your chin up then cups your face to get a good look at you. He tucks his fingers between your ear which makes you feel the need to gently rub your cheek against his palm. The scent of his perfume mixed with cigarettes completely takes over your analytical judgement; you give him one last look before you lose yourself and lean in, gently placing your lips on his.

Your hands find a way to bury in his neck while his right palm brings your hips together. The kiss is slow, very slow, so slow but so wet. It didn’t take you long to find the way to his pink muscle and yours are now dancing in each other’s mouth. Fingers buried in your hair, tongue caressing yours, pelvis pressed against his very tight pants; it’s almost too much to bare, you want more. No, you need more, you need him whole.

The kiss escalates quickly, making you whimper at how well he explores your mouth. His hands linger around your body, teasing you by caressing your sensitive breast, although he doesn’t yield to your moaning; he seems to like to torment you by grabbing you everywhere else. The feeling gets too overwhelming. You find your way to his shirt and start unbuttoning it until his chest is bare. You sense him smile against your lips. He must like your initiative.

He pulls you out. You instantly feel the need to reconnect with his lips.

“I want you so bad, doll.

- Do you want my mouth too? you say with your doe eyes.

- It’s already mine.”

The heat in your lower stomach migrates to your inner thighs and you can’t ignore the wetness anymore. Your hands brush his chest until they find a way to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. When you look down, you wonder how his pants did not explode. It’s so big you can’t wait to feel it inside of your drenched walls. But you’ve got something else in mind for him.

You kneel. He stares at you from above which makes him sexier than ever. He grabs your hair into an improvised ponytail. You take his member with your hand, slowly lick every inch of it, bottom to its wet tip, before shoving it in your mouth. Roger groans and lets go of the tension. You start moving a little bit, your hand follows your movement and you let your tongue play with it. It feels so freaking good. How can it feel so good? It’s unreal.

You look up to find him already looking down on you, mouth open, eyebrows frowned, wild blonde hair that he keeps pushing from his face. You want to hear his voice again, so you really shove it, deeper, until you feel it in your throat. The most beautiful sound comes to your ear while you’re trying to stay still. You would be moaning so loudly if he wasn’t in your mouth.

“Love, may I help you with my hand?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to because the grip on your hair gets tighter. You nod obviously, eager to see a glimpse of dom Roger.

You resume your sucking and moaning. You’re so dirty, he says, and with that, he thrusts his hard cock deep into your throat. You’ve never been taken care of like this. He’s intense, but not too quick, enjoying your wet mouth between each thrust. You can’t ignore it anymore; you’re drenched.

He gives it a little more strength before he finally pulls out. You can finally breathe. You hadn’t realised you couldn’t, you were too focused on the way he filled your mouth. You’re both panting - not for the same reason though.

“Come here, Y/N.”

He helps you back up, but doesn’t spare a second to pick you up and place you on the edge of the control table. He undresses your lower body, throwing your underwear in the room, and you lift your shirt to unravel your perfect tits, as he says.

“Roger, please, I need you in me, you whine. - Fuck, Y/N…”

He brings his hard cock towards your entrance and moans at the wetness of it. Slowly, he goes in while leaning in to kiss you, but you can't stop moaning, even against his lips. For a second, he intensifies the kiss and goes as deep as he can inside of you. You grab him by the shoulders, by his neck, ready to exhale due to the pleasure but he surprises you when he starts going faster, deeper, and groans while he fills you in really good. He grabs you by the back of your neck and goes faster. He doesn’t miss one opportunity to make you scream.

He slows down and locks his eyes into yours. His movements are like torture. So slow. The wet sounds fill the air and mix with your heavy breaths. He resumes kissing your lips then slowly goes down your neck. Oh my God, he's so hard. You're so hard, Roger. His lips go down and finally find their way to your breast. He licks your hard nipples and you let out the loudest moan while he's fucking you good. He licks them again and grabs your tits in his hand before whispering in your ear:

“You're such a little cunt…”

You don't think you've ever been this wet at the sound of someone's voice. Roger just knows how to make you horny for him and the thought of being his little cunt makes you so aroused that you forget how to breathe properly. The thrusts fill you again, and again, and again before you eventually feel it coming; your hands grab tightly onto him and you desperately look for his eyes before you manage to say:

“I'm coming, Rog…”

The world stops turning for a second. But he doesn’t stop. He’s harder than ever and your mind is completely empty. Your stomach tightens as well as your inner walls The air has left your lungs and your heart just might come out of your chest. 

And then the tension just explodes in a loud moan. He's still going hard, frowning his eyebrows and you suspect he's not too far either. Every movement he gives you is like an electric choc that makes the pleasure last longer. It's like a wave of relief that takes over your whole body. You take his hand and place it on your tit before locking eyes with him.

“Don't stop looking at me, you tell him.”

He doesn't. In fact, he's as deep in your eyes as in your pussy and he feels like he's losing control over his own body. He’s going fucking crazy. Absolutely feral for you. He gives you a few more powerful thrusts before he pulls out and spits his thick semen on your stomach. You hear again his raspy voice groaning and he finally stops moving.

His forehead is pressed against yours and for some reason you both can't stop smiling. He leans in and kisses you, softly this time. His lips are so soft, gosh.

Roger helps you clean up and picks up your clothes on the floor to help you with that too. How was this man a literal beast moments ago and acts like the sweetest man alive?

You're both fully clothed now, cheeks still pink, and he takes it upon himself to make your hair look presentable. Roger grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him.

“I wish I had more time to actually taste you. You were so wet for me.”

But you don't have time to answer because you both hear footsteps approaching, and the door opens with Peter. A little bit disappointed, you let go of each other but not without a shy smile.

“Y/N? You're still here? Don't you have work to do?”

You hurry to the door, worried he might notice the state of your hair and make-up. 

“I asked her to stay so I wouldn’t get bored.”

You don’t need to see him to picture the smirk on his face. Although, before you go, you look back and catch him already smiling at you. 

[nyx-thedragon]

EVEN MORE NEWSIES THOUGHTS RAAHHHHH

noted down a bunch of things while watching again, so strap in for a bit of a long post!

1- reiterating that i love mr kloppman so much omg

2- mush has his fucking hat on before a shirt what's wrong with him /silly

3- "get the lead outta your pants" is such a fun phrase why don't we use it anymore

4- choreo for "carrying the banner" looks so fun

5- jack mocking davey's scoff i love them so bad

6- young christian bale as jack kelly is so charming

7- why is there just a boxing match going on?

8- medda complimenting les's acting skills <33

9- why is there a trolley on fire? why did they set one on fire?

10- "you can meet my folks" this is literally the first day you met him ???

11- esther jacobs is so pretty wow

12- second hand embarrassment/cringing when jack is telling sarah about what words make a headline good

13- les sleep singing and sounding good, i see you kid

14- "why don't you stay here tonight?" bro put the heart eyes away for a second my god

15- "when i dream on my own / i'm alone but i ain't lonely" <333333 love these lyrics

16- will forever be mad about livesies taking away jack's whole cowboy shtick it's so fun why would they take that away

17- how does jack just know how to ride a horse?? was he taught by someone when he was younger??

18- race & jack siblingism real !!

19- johnathon why do you work for pulitzer he doesn't appreciate you like he should

20- i love how natural the dialogue feels in the entire movie. it doesn't feel or sound like they memorized a script

21- "give him some room, let him think" les jacobs you precious little boy

22- jack and davey just make a great team to lead the strike. davey has the words and jack has the confidence and loud voice

23- "no! we can't beat up kids in the street, it'll give us a bad name!" "can't get any worse"

24- davey going from "i was joking" about the strike to helping organize and getting so into it i love him

25- davey wandering through the other newsies during "the world will know" love him (i have no clue why this stood out to me enough that i felt i had to note it down)

26- davey, again with the heart eyes. you're staring longingly at jack. please have some decorum

27- shoutout to denton for helping the boys. love our man denton

28- boots putting his ear up to the door trying to hear something i love him that's so silly

29- the look jack gives davey when he laughs at jack and les being kicked out of The World building

30- "no pictures" "sure" and then there ends up being a picture

31- spot conlon calling jack "jackie boy" oh i feel like they have some history. like friends when they were younger or something. or they've just known each other for a long time

32- mush and race little dance moment during "sieze the day" <3

now would be a great time to take a breather, drink some water, look somewhere other than the screen for a bit to give your eyes a rest

33- jack and davey are always so touchy with each other my god boys can you keep your hands to yourselves for five seconds please (/affectionate)

34- jack already trusts davey enough to let him hold the rope while he dangles like 50 feet in the air. they've barely known each other for two days these boys are lowkey down bad

35- jack and crutchy are brothers for real !!! i love them !!!!

36- snyder hitting the side of the bed to get that one kid to take his hat off why did he do that why did the hat need to be off ??

37- love how the brooklyn newsies' thing is slingshots it's so fun and cool

38- where did these boys learn how to tap dance

39- crutchy you gotta get better at lying, man

40- dude kloppman really is like these boys' father i just love him so much he seems so sweet

41- sarah jacobs why do you not find it a little weird for jack to sleep right outside your window all night?? i know you know him, but that's still a bit odd

42- "this rabble he's roused" pulitzer that's a great line, i gotta hand it to ya

43- love spot conlon's little walking stick/cane

44- the way the boys all love medda and hype her up <333

45- i need warden snyder dead and i need to be the one to do it oh my god i hate him so much!!!!

46- dutchy and specs are always around each other, as far as i remember seeing. they are a pair, do not separate

47- are davey and sarah twins? i've seen people online and in fics say that they are but it's not said in the movie and i am very curious if this is canon or a fanon thing that everyone has agreed on?

48- pulitzer gesticulates a lot. he's a hand-talker

49- "i don't understand" "i don't understand either but just get outta here!"

50- haven't said this before but i love davey's curly hair

51- weasel actually says "tisk tisk" (tsk tsk) he's such a weirdo for that

52- i also need weasel and the delanceys dead and i need to be the one to do it

53- roosevelt calling denton "denty" they're besties bro that's so fun

54- kloppman taking over weasel's job (edit: upon rewatching the movie again, i have realized that it is, in fact, not kloppman who takes over weasel’s job at the end of the movie. my apologies)

whoo. okay. less than the last one. that's good. i hope y'all enjoyed reading my thoughts and getting a little glimpse into my brain. and if someone could tell me the answer to my "are sarah and davey twins" question i will love you forever please i am very curious.

anyway, drink water, get some rest, and i will see you all later. stay cool

[silverynight]

Underworld

<---Previous

Part XXI

They walk around in the castle for a while as Katsuki tells him how everyone has been doing since Izuku left.

"How about you?" The demigod asks, mostly to tease his friend. "Did you miss me?"

He already knows his friend did actually miss him; they had talked about it, but Izuku is just having fun at the moment, so he doesn't expect an actual response from anyone...

"Are you kidding me?" Kaminari rolls his eyes, turning his head towards Izuku like he can't quite believe he just said that. "He was so grumpy and sad all the time! Not to mention how bad he felt at first for lying to you!"

"Dunce face!"

Before the king of the dead can get dangerously closer to Kaminari, Izuku puts a hand on Katsuki's shoulder to stop him. As usual, he relaxes immediately and turns around.

Katsuki is blushing. Izuku finds it absolutely adorable; he's so happy he doesn't have his flower crown and he's not carrying any at the moment because he's sure all of them would bloom under his touch.

He knows he should be working on getting rid of his crush, but now it's not the time. Izuku takes one of Katsuki's hands and pulls him slightly closer only to touch the god's cheek.

"I'm here now and I'll be returning here often... if that's alright–"

"There's nothing I want more," Katsuki cuts him off and Izuku honestly doesn't notice, but suddenly they are completely alone. "You'll always be welcome here. I... I just want to be with you, Izuku. Nothing is the same without you."

Oh, no. This is really bad for Izuku's heart; his heart gets his hopes up easily, especially after such beautiful words... No, Izuku shouldn't think about this in any other way than Katsuki just being a good friend to him.

Of course, he missed him; they're friends, besides... it also has to do with the fact that he probably still feels bad about taking Izuku to the underworld and lying to him.

This is not going to help with Izuku's crush.

"Come. Let me show you something," Katsuki smiles before taking Izuku's hand and leading towards a new part of the palace. One Izuku hadn't seen before.

There's a room with huge crystal doors that lead to a backyard... and then when they both step outside Izuku finally realizes that it's actually a huge garden.

"It's beautiful!" Izuku beams, walking among the flowers and touching them with his fingertips; they also seem to react to him even though they're from the underworld. "Why didn't you show this to me before?"

Katsuki starts rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turn slightly pink again.

"Because this wasn't here before. I... made this for you."

Izuku's heart beats in a funny way inside his chest, he feels warm inside, happy, like he can't contain all that happiness inside him.

"Does this mean you like it?" Katsuki chuckles, making a gesture with his hand towards the flowers around them.

They're blooming.

Izuku blushes to the tip of his ears; he's so glad Katsuki doesn't know the real reason for that.

"Yes, it means I like it," Izuku mumbles, feeling bad for not saying the truth, but his friend can't know he has a crush; it'd make things awkward between them. "Thank you, Kacchan. This means a lot to me."

For some reason, the King of the underworld starts smiling and doesn't stop even after they meet their other friends outside.

Ashido starts laughing at his expression and both Kirishima and Kaminari look at him like they can't quite believe what's going on.

Izuku chuckles, feeling his chest warm and fuzzy; a tiny part of him telling him to stay with them permanently.

But he knows he can't.

***

When he comes back to the mortal realm, he gets surprised when he sees Aizawa and All Might himself walking around in his field.

Izuku squeaks in delight and rushes towards them to give them both a hug.

"What are you doing here? Do you need anything from me?"

"Of course not!" All Might chuckles; his voice is loud, but not in an annoying way. Izuku finds himself looking up at him until his neck hurts a little and is suddenly reminded of how tall and huge the god is. "We just wanted to see you again, Midoriya! Shota is always worried about you!"

Izuku smiles at the god with the dark tunic only to find him looking away, almost like he's slightly embarrassed.

"You're prone to get in trouble, I'm just trying to avoid another conflict," Aizawa says, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. All Might laughs again, to which Aizawa glares at him in response.

"We wanted to make sure you're alright," All Might says, ignoring the other god.

Izuku hugs them both again, purposely trying not to notice the way Aizawa rolls his eyes, although Aizawa still hugs the demigod back.

He tells them both about his friends, his visit to the Todoroki family and his quick trip to the underworld.

Aizawa tenses a bit during Izuku's story, but relaxes when the young demigod smiles at him. All Might even puts a hand on the gloomy god's shoulder.

"It's fine. You know they care about him."

"I think that's part of the problem, Toshinori." Aizawa mumbles, confusing Izuku a bit. When he turns around, he looks even more serious than a couple of minutes ago. "You let me know if Enji gives you any trouble, alright?"

"You mean Endeavor?" Izuku blinks. When they both nod, he adds: "Why would he–"

"He doesn't like you getting close to his son," Aizawa explains simply.

"But don't mind that," All Might says, grinning at Izuku. "You just tell us if he ever comes here."

"Thank you for taking care of me!" Izuku says then and before Aizawa can say anything else, he takes them by the arms and leads them to his house.

His mother is more than happy to invite them in and make dinner for them. Izuku tries not to chuckle when he notices that they both act shy around his mother.

Izuku looks around and for a moment he's overwhelmed by strong emotions; he realizes that in a relative short period of time he went from living with his mother and taking care of his field to having so many friends.

He's so grateful for that; it almost feels like he's part of a huge family and he hopes it stays that way for a long time.

***

Next--->

Patreon

[pourcap]

thoughts: kr chapter 15 (pt. 1)

'If they come this way—’ said Nikandros in a low voice. ‘Hey!’ Laurent called out. (...) i bet this will make nikandors love laurent even more :)

(...) Brief visions of strangling Laurent weren’t helpful. (...) damen is the best protagonist ever

(...) Damen judged the distance between himself and the nearest of the approaching soldiers, his chances of killing them, of killing enough of them to even the odds for the others. (...) also does damen's mind ever not immediately go this route? imagine constantly being so on edge because you feel like you have to fight and protect because that's all you've ever known, and because you're the best at it so everyone's survival depends on how quickly you eliminate threat. so exhausting.

(...) ‘You are Charls the renowned Veretian cloth merchant?’ said the officer sceptically, as if this was a name well known to him. ‘No,’ said Laurent, as if this was the most foolish thing in the world. ‘I am Charls the renowned Veretian cloth merchant. This is my assistant. Lamen.' ummmm. okay. 'as if it was the most foolish thing in the world' made me laugh. laurent's brashness lol. also i absolutely love how laurent just went for the ship name, which is of course veeery far off from damen's actual name so they totally won't risk being found out at all

'I don’t suppose your men could aid us in our repairs?’ said Laurent. Damen stared at him. They were encircled by fifty mounted Akielon soldiers. Jokaste was inside that wagon. no way that's why laurent stopped them. is he insane???? i can 100% picture the way damen's staring at him.

just remembered "it's the game i like" so i'm guessing this turn of event makes sense

The officer said, ‘We’re patrolling for Damianos of Akielos.’ ‘Who’s Damianos of Akielos?’ said Laurent. His face was utterly open, his blue eyes unblinking, upturned to the officer on his horse. ahhhhh!!! oh god. also i looove when laurent puts on this faux-innocent look he used so much in book one. it's just so amusing to me bc he's such an asshole and i mean this very lovingly

(...) Nikandros had the slightly stupefied look that Damen remembered from several of his own adventures with Laurent. (...) can you believe i'm getting emotional over this? because damen knows laurent now. because laurent is known. for probably the first time in his life except for by auguste he has someone who really actually genuinely knows him and appreciates him for the way his mind works. i just love laurent and damen so much <3

Damen followed him in, acutely aware that he was being separated from his men. Laurent simply walked into the inn. such an interesting nod to how damen feels more comfortable in the presence of his men (whether that's because he feels the need to protect them or because there's safety in numbers in general) whereas laurent had to rely on only himself for the past years

(...) Perhaps he could overwhelm Stavos. He could negotiate some kind of exchange, Stavos’s life for their freedom. his brain just won't stop omg. imagine constantly thinking about how to get out of situation that could end in your death (also imagine how intimidating damen must look to an outsider since he's basically just always coming up with battle plans in his head lol)

'I can assure you. Charls the renowned merchant is already here.' noooooooo

'That is impossible. Call him out here.' ohh the audacity. laurent can be such a prince

Charls took one look at the unmistakable blue eyes and blond hair of his Prince, who he had last seen in Damen’s lap dressed as a pet in a tavern at Nesson. His eyes widened. Then, with a truly heroic effort: ‘Charls!’ said Charls. hahhaaha no way. bless the real charls <3

they're all charls :')

'Thank you, Charls, this man believes I am the King of Akielos,’ said Laurent. god he's soooo annoying i love him so much

'An agent of the King when he has raised taxes and threatens to bankrupt the entire cloth industry?’ said Laurent. Damen put his eyes somewhere where they wouldn’t meet Laurent’s, (...) i repeat: he's so annoying and i love him so much. also a fed up damen is so funny to me

'You speak very good Akielon,’ he said, loudly and slowly. ‘Thank you,’ said Damen. ohh that reminds me of that scene in book one when laurent had damen drugged and this guy told damen that laurent had an eye for detail or something lol

'(...) Nikandros is completely useless as the Kyros,’ Laurent said, loudly enough for Nikandros to hear him. ‘He doesn’t know the first thing about cloth.' oh my god laurent stop antagonizing your boyfriend's best friend!!!

Damen looked over at Laurent, who was deep in conversation, letting his eyes pass slowly over every familiar feature, the cool expression tipped with gold in the firelight. He said, ‘Did he?’ ‘Charls said, think of the most expensive pet you’ve ever seen, then double it.’ ‘Really?’ said Damen. damen stop getting horny pt. 34972387

'Of course, Charls knew who he was right away, because he couldn’t hide his princely style, and nobility of spirit.’ ‘Of course,’ said Damen. hahahhahaha awww i love charls and i'm happy that in the future he'll have some new tales to tell about this moment right now

'Maybe you could encourage Akielons to wear sleeves. You’d sell more cloth,’ said Laurent. Everyone laughed politely at the joke, and then speculative looks crossed one or two faces, as if this young cousin of Charls’s might have stumbled by accident onto a good idea. you can always count on laurent to find a new way to be a nuisance to akielos <3

ahhhh did laurent push their mattress together to sleep next to damen????? i'm crying. sobbing, actually <3

they're kissing !!! i love them soooo much i can't even put it into words anymore, my heart just goes "!!!" every time they're close to each other

Laurent didn’t seem to care, even seemed to like it. Damen pressed him into the wall, and took his mouth. Laurent smelled of soap and fresh cotton. Damen’s thumbs pushed into his waist. laurent being turned on by damen's sweat... honestly if we got laurent's pov, he'd probably be just as intense about damen as damen is about him. they're truly a match made in heaven.

(...) They had not before had the luxury of extended lovemaking, deliberate and unhurried as a First Night. His thoughts ribboned with all the things they had yet to do. damen is such a softie!!! he's seriously just thinking about all the things he still wants to experience with laurent. he's so cute :')

(...) It was charming, because it was clear that Laurent was unsure exactly what to do, yet, typically, had acted to take control of everything. again: he knows laurent so well by now! i'm so emotional.

'First time to entertain a lover?’ Just saying the word made him flush, and he saw Laurent flush too. god. goooood. godddddd.

(...) He watched Laurent react to his body. Virgins and the inexperienced tended to get nervous, which he enjoyed as a challenge to be overcome, hesitancy turned into eagerness and pleasure. It pleased some deep part of him to see in Laurent the flickering of a similar reaction. (...) hmmmmm. :)))))))) i mean, he's wrong obviously, but i am super happy that laurent gets to experience sex with a good man who he finds attractive and who he likes and who is, on top of all that, great at sex <3

And dropped to his knees on the floor of the inn. i'm getting teary-eyed over a blowjob. seriously. i'm just so proud of laurent and of him taking initiative because he wants to do this with and for damen !!!!

that description of the contrast between laurent's internal struggle and practiced skill makes me sick

[sibylsleaves]

i really liked your take on the buddie apology and it not being shown on screen.

ive also been thinking about how even though the basketball game may be upsetting to watch from an audience perspective, its perfectly in character for eddie to not be upset about it. this is a man who once joined an illeagle fight ring and nearly killed a man rather then deal with his emotions asdfgjhk. if ANYONE understands processing your feelings through physical violence, its eddie.

is this a healthy way to handle jealousy? god no. does buck need to do some self work on this? yeah probably. but a Fictional Character in FICTION forgiving someone is not the same as giving a stamp of approval on the behavior in real life.

I mean, I also think there's a world of difference between "knocked someone a little too hard at the pick-up game" and like. if Buck had walked over to Eddie and just shoved him to the ground for no reason.

Sports get rough sometimes, even if it's supposed to be a friendly pick-up game, once the adrenaline starts going and people get competitive, yeah a bad foul like that can happen. Idk if it's just because I watch a lot of basketball (where fouling like that is commonplace) but I honestly didn't think it was this huge deal everyone was making it out to be. Like yeah, they're not playing in the NBA and it's a dick move to get THAT worked up at a pick-up game (and if I was the guy organizing it I might hesitate to invite him back or at least give him a talking to about sportsmanship 😂) but it's the kind of thing that can happen sometimes. And we as the audience obviously know why Buck's worked up and feeling competitive.

I do understand people getting more upset about it once Buck tells Maddie he "doesn't know" if he meant to hurt Eddie, but I think we also have to take into account that Buck is not necessarily a reliable narrator about his own motives. I don't think he ever on ANY level meant to hurt Eddie/cause him pain, but he certainly recognized something had gotten him worked up to the point where he fouled him like that. He registered that he was taking out some of his frustration on Eddie, and in typical Buck fashion he's guilt-spiraling about it and thinking like oh my god did I hurt Eddie ON PURPOSE am I a terrible person do I need to be put down like a rabid dog??? We've seen this from Buck before (ie in s5 when he decides to quit the team because it's "his fault" Chimney left, telling Eddie in s3 that maybe his fight club stuff was because of Buck, etc.)

I honestly was pretty surprised to come to tumblr and see people freaking out in all directions (either saying it was OOC for Buck or that he should like, go grovel on his knees to Eddie for 40 days and 40 nights).

Idk typing this out makes me feel like maybe it IS just people not understanding the sport of basketball--in a lot of sports, shoving someone like that would be totally out of pocket. But if you ever watch an NBA game, you'll see dudes getting slammed in the paint like that all the time and sometimes it won't even get called as a foul. It's certainly bad behavior in a fun little friendly game, but it's not like. Completely outside the bounds of how the sport is played. And does not, in MY opinion, rise to the level of intentional physical violence.