#written works of gab

[altschmerzes]

LEARNING THAT THE HOMOPHOBIA ABUSE-FETISHIZATION MISOGYNY TERRIBLE 'SPORTS FICTION' BOOKS ARE STILL BEING WRITTEN/PUT OUT???? PLEASE FREE ME

[capitanooos]

the voice of an angel // dmitri kravinoff x reader

-`♡´- pairing : dmitri kravinoff x reader

-`♡´- summary : when dmitri sees reader up on stage of a local restaurant, its love at first sight. he’s captivated by her and invites her to sing at his club…

-`♡´- warnings : alcohol consumption. nsfw. p in v, oral (male receiving), slight overstim, slight age gab, petnames, idk what else lmk if i should add something

-`♡´- notes : this actually sucks. i hate it more day after day. sorry this took so long. kind of got overwhelmed w projects, one part and uhh the last bit was written in kind of a rush so its not really proofread. also havent written filth like this in a while. DMITRI MY BABY UGGHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

-`♡´- word count : 5400

songs mentioned: heavy, no one noticed, over the moon

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission. not my gif

As the lights shone on the stage and the music slowly started one last time, the audience cheered. Up on the stage stood a young woman, no older than twenty as she shyly approached the microphone again. It wouldn’t matter how often she stood on this, or any stage really, it would always be a little intimidating. Having all the people listen, some look at her as she sung.

Eventually, once she’d get lost in her element, she’d loosen up. Her voice ringing through the room quietly as the guests of the local pub or restaurant had their drinks or dinner.

Today she stood on the stage at the fine-dining restaurant that belonged to one of her fathers best friends. It was a busy Friday night and the place was stacked, filled with low conversation as couples had dinners, businessmen held meetings, and families celebrated birthdays.

The Ledbury had a high reputation here in London, and with the Christmas days coming up, the place was decorated to cozy up for the holidays.

The lyrics slowly came from her mouth as she held her hands on top of the microphone, eyes scanning the crowd and smiling brightly.

“It’s not right, ‘cause I’m so over being lonely.”

She noticed her fathers best friend at the bar and nodded at him. Her eyes once more looking over the guests that all had their conversations going on, or at least busing themselves with something.

“Make you mine, I need a virtual connection, take our time, be my video obsession.”

That’s when she locked eyes with a young gentleman. He was sitting in one of the booths with two other men but he paid no mind to them as he stared at her with big eyes, lips slightly parted as he tilted his head in adoration.

“Come on, don’t leave me, it can’t be that easy, babe. If you believe me, I guess I’ll get on a plane.”

His blonde hair seemed to glow a bit orange under the lights as he shifted his body to face her more. He let his gaze fall over her form, from the jewelry around her neck, to her dark blue velvet dress that fit her like a glove, to the bell sleeves that fell back on her arms as she shyly held on to the microphone, never breaking eye contact as she continued to sing.

“Fly to your city, excited to see your face. Hold me, console me, and then I’ll leave without a trace.”

The lyrics repeated themselves and she finally broke eye contact after offering him a shy smile, which he returned after she looked away. His brother shoved his shoulder in a playful manner, pulling his attention away from the singing girl and back to the important business meeting at hand.

Disappointment was evident all over Dmitri’s face when he looked back to see you gone. He had never heard a voice so angelic before, and that was a lot coming from someone who could mimic anyone. From your soft voice, to your sweet smile to the shy look in your eyes as you had held his gaze. His brother, Sergei, seemed to almost smell his disappointment as he sat back down after seeing their new business partner off.

“She’s at the bar.” That was all Dmitri needed to jump up from his seat and move towards said bar.

[Name] sat at the bar, taking small sips of her drink as she looked out the window. Snow was falling slowly on the already white streets of London. Louis, her fathers friend, had just handed her the envelope with her money and the tips customers had left her. It would always be insane to her how people left her tips, left her anything at all, just because they loved her singing so much. She was honoured and always made sure to thank the people would she see them again, most she did, seeing they were regulars.

She looked over to where that gentleman had sat before, seeing him nowhere in sight as she took another sip of her drink. The sweetness of it had her close her eyes as she savoured the drink.

“Excuse me, miss.” A voice besides her spoke up as she opened her eyes, smiling when she saw the handsome man before her. “Hi, I’m Dmitri Kravinoff.” he returned her smile as he held out his hand.

“[Name]. What can I help you with, mister Kravinoff?” he took her hand and to her surprise he didn’t shake it, no, he brought it up to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles.

Dmitri his mind went a hundred miles an hour as he heard her say his name, smiling at him politely as she set down her drink on the bar. She was an angel sent down from heaven, he swore.

“I had a question, if you have the time.” he smiled as he shook his head, trying to get back to reality. She was even more beautiful up close, her voice even purer without the microphone.

He swore he could feel his knees get weak when he heard her giggle, such a beautiful and honest sound. Never before had he felt this feeling that he was feeling right now. It spread all across his body, from the tips of his ears to the tip of his dick as he felt his pants tighten.

“You have my full attention, mister Kravinoff.” she smiled at him, turning her body to face him as he smiled a toothy smile.

“You have an amazing voice, unlike anything I have ever heard before. I, um, I run a club, and I was wondering if you’d like to perform. I’d- the people would love you. Of course you’d be well compensated.” he was rambling as he looked her in the eye, hoping she’d accept his offer.

She tilted her head with a small frown before it turned into a smile, as if to think about it. Dmitri was staring at her with no shame as he watched her every move, never had he thought love at first sight was a real thing, until he laid eyes on this woman, [Name].

“Alright, what price are we talking?” she said, grinning at him as she caught him staring. She watched him stumble over his words as an assortment of random words fell out of his mouth. “I’m kidding, mister Kravinoff, for someone like you I’d do it for free.”

Dmitri stared at her with his eyes wide and mouth agape before the corners of his lips twisted upwards. He smiled so brightly his cheeks hurt as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. She took it from him and quickly took in the words.

Chameleon and the Hunter.

She swallowed. That was the most well known, most difficult to get into club in possibly all of Europe. She didn’t know the boss was such a young man.

He watched her reaction as she read the card. He watched her bite her lip as she swallowed before looking back up to meet his eyes and smiling.

“It would be an honor to perform at your club, mister Kravinoff.”

He grabbed her free hand again, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing it again. A sign of respect, a thank you, a promise.

She’d call him tomorrow, she said and he nodded before bidding her farewell and returning to the table he was at before, this time with a slight jump in his step as his brother grinned at him, having seen the entire interaction.

It was two weeks later when the day finally rolled around. [Name] entered the club and was immediately met with the man she saw at the table with Dmitri two weeks prior.

“Sergei Kravinoff.” he introduced himself as he shook her hand. He was one unit of a man and he towered over her as she nodded and followed him to the stage. She’d have given Dmitri a list of songs a week prior once they had set a date. “The stage is yours whenever you’re ready.” Sergei said as the pianist came up to her with a smile. She quickly discussed what to start with, having a small conversation as she took off her coat before rushing to the restroom to make sure she appeared well and not like she just came out of the snowstorm outside.

Thankfully it wasn't too bad and before she knew it she was up on the stage of the club. It was busy and her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the handsome face she couldn’t wait to see again. It was filled with rich looking people, sipping their drinks and wearing clothes that cost more than her rent.

“I’m heavy. I’m by your side. Forget me. ‘Cause I know what I need. Like a loser like me could be fine.”

As she started singing, she noticed a few people turn their heads, smiling as her voice reached their ears.

“Is someone telling me don’t get in the water? What have I done? I don’t wanna get lost inside the color under my tongue.”

Her gaze continued to sweep over the many faces, some looking back at her, some swaying their heads to the beat of the music, some completely endorsed in conversation, too busy to hear her sing. Still no sign of Dmitri. Maybe he wasn’t even here, but she wasn’t about to let his absence ruin this magnificent chance at performing at this establishment.

“Cause I don’t wanna be in love with another, even in another life.”

As she continued to sing, she captured the eyes and ears of more and more people. Receiving the occasional cheer as she finished song after song. It had been nearly an hour since she got up on stage, and once a gentleman put up his hat in front of the stage and tossing money in it, it didn’t stop. Men and women threw in more and more bills and coins worth more than she would make in a week. She smiled brightly everytime someone new came up to the stage, she felt like she was dreaming.

Eventually she stopped, taking a break and resting her voice as the pianist took over again. He smiled at her as she made her way down the bar.

The bartender offered her a smile to match her own as he complimented her singing before taking her order.

“My brother sure has an eye for talent, you are magnificent.” Sergei Kravinoff stood beside her as she quietly sipped at her drink, feeling the welcome cold drink drip down her throat.

“Thank you, mister Kravinoff. It is truly an honor and a dream come true to perform on your stage.” [Name] stated as she cracked her neck to look at the older man. She’d have to guess him in his late twenties, incredibly handsome, immensely tall too. “Speaking of your brother, I haven’t seen him tonight.”

Sergei laughed softly as he dipped his head. “Ah, Dima had some business to take care of, had him on the phone a minute ago so he should be here in about ten minutes or so. He has been looking forward to seeing you up on that stage.”

“I’ll be your baby. There’s nothing better I’d rather do.”

Those were the first Dmitri heard when he entered his club. His eyes darted to the stage where you stood, eyes closed as you sang, hips slowly swaying with the music as you were concentrating on the words coming out of your mouth.

The dark red dress that adored your figure made you look beautiful as the warm lights shone down on you.

“This momentary ride, this fire by my side. Are you gonna be here with me? You know that I’ll be your baby.”

Dmitri ignored the stare of his brother as he moved to take a seat at the bar, never taking his eyes off you. He noticed the hat that sat in front of the stage, nearly spilling over with cash and he smiled. Well deserved, he thought.

“There’s nothing better I’d rather do. I’m lost completely.”

Your eyes opened and he watched as you searched the crowds eagerly. It took you a second but when your beautiful eyes met his own, a smile brighter than any he’d seen on you before spread over your face.

“I might as well be over the moon.”

A smile danced on his own features as you once again held his gaze like that one night. Seeing you here, in his club, smiling brightly and having the crowd, including himself, wrapped around your finger, Dmitri couldn’t help but fall in love with you more.

He knew his brother would call him silly, he barely knew you, if he knew anything about you at all besides your name that was. But gods, you looked like an angel, so beautiful and so at home on that stage. It made Dmitri lose his mind a little. A woman so beautiful, so talented, who’d accepted his offer without hesitation and question, before even knowing exactly who he was.

“For someone like you, I’d do it for free.” Those words had followed him for the last two weeks, along with the way his name fell off your lips. Someone like him, whatever you had meant with that.

Not for a second did he take his gaze off you. He remained fixated on you, a look in his eyes that even his brother had never seen before. You really had him wrapped around your finger, and he loved it. Dmitri couldn’t get enough of you, and when you finished your final song of the night, he stood up and clapped loudly, the crowd following suit as you smiled brightly, bowing a little before making your way down the stage.

Dmitri was in front of you before you realized, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles as he looked you in the eyes.

“Thank you, mister Kravinoff.” you said as you took him in from up close. The top buttons of his black dress shirt unbuttoned, the black suit jacket also unbuttoned and his hair slightly messy by the rough weather conditions outside. He looked so incredibly handsome it actually had you at a loss for words as you let him guide you towards the bar.

“It’s an honor to have you here, I should be thanking you, [Name].” he smiled as he gestured towards the bartender. “I am truly so happy you could make it.”

He looked like a little boy who just met his favorite superhero in a theme park as he looked at you.

You shook your head. You’d had many men and women in awe of your singing in the last few years, many offering you compliments, some giving you chances that you could only dream of but Dmitri? Dmitri was different. He was more than in awe, he was enthralled by you, he looked at you with such adoration that made your heart melt. Along with that he was a very handsome man, it was undeniable, it was a fact.

“I thank you for having me.” you said as you grabbed your drink, he did the same and he looked at you again.

“A toast, to you, and your magnificence.”

You giggled as you toasted with him, he was special, he had something that had you longing for more and so the start of a very long night began.

The two of you talked until deep in the night, about anything that came to mind, from schooldays to everyday life, from favorite foods to biggest fears. Eventually the club ran dry and you stood up from your chair, the clock had struck past three and it would be about time you headed home.

“I should get home, it’s late and I kind of have work tomorrow.” you smiled at Dmitri as he also stood up, helping you put on her coat with a boyish grin on his face.

He nodded at you, it was late indeed, and time seemed to have flown by. He watched you as you zipped up your coat, pulling your hair out of the back before throwing on your scarf. You looked adorable.

“Let me take you home, I wouldn’t want you wandering London at this time of the night and in this weather. I’d blame myself if something were to happen to you.” Dmitri offered, his driver had been waiting outside all this time for him, and the last thing he wanted was for you to walk through the snowstorm outside and get sick, or worse. London wasn’t safe at night.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. It’s only a twenty minute walk home, it’s fine, mister Kravinoff.” you began to decline his offer, genuinely not wanting to be a burden to the man.

You’d found out he turned twenty-six not too long ago, twenty-six and already having succeeded so much in life. You admired that, envied it even. You were right to assume that his brother, Sergei, was three years older than him, and the co-owner of the establishment. Somehow you also discovered he was oddly good at doing impressions, it was almost scary how spot on they were and it brought tears to your eyes from laughter as the two of you goofed around.

“Please, it wouldn’t be a bother. Count it as a thank you, for tonight.” you couldn’t explain the look in his eyes as anything other than hot as he awaited your reply.

Dmitri simply couldn’t get enough of you, the more the two of you talked the more enthralled he became. As you talked about your past and present, your dreams, everything that came out of your mouth made him want you more. He couldn’t give a damn about the people around him, for once he didn’t even seem to notice his brother's stares, he was so focused on you that everything else fell away.

Finally you nodded, agreeing and Dmitri’s excitement nearly shot through the sky as he told you to wait here for a minute before disappearing into a back door of the club. You’d expected him to come out with a jacket or something but nope, nothing seemed to be different as he came back out and wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you out into the cold winds. Once he sat down next to you in the car you turned to face him, he turned his head to look back at you and grinned.

“Didn’t know gentlemen still existed here in London.” you said, eyes falling over his figure with no shame, taking in what sat in front of you. From the gold chain peeking out from around his neck, to the way his hands laid idly in his lap as they fidgeted with his rings, to the way you noticed the bulge in his pants. You smirked and looked back up to meet his eyes.

“Rare sight to get a man to treat you well these days, huh?” one of his arms moved to rest on the back part of the chairs and you felt his fingers entangle in your hair, playfully testing the waters as he softly tugged on a lock of hair. Dmitri watched as your eyes closed, breath hitching in your throat as you let him pull your head backwards in the slightest.

“Yeah…” your words came out in a breath, more high pitched than you initially realized. You bit your lip when you looked at him again, eyes dropping down to his lips and lingering there before meeting his blue eyes again. You swallowed thickly as you felt his grip on your hair tighten.

Before you knew it you were straddling his lap and your lips were on his. His hands gripped your hips as he kissed you like a man who’d been starved. You felt the bulge in his pants grow more as you grinded your hips down on him, the only thing separating your core and his hard cock being the fabric of his pants and your panties, which you were sure were soaked in your juices already. You moaned into the kiss, your fingers lost in his hair as he pulled your hips closer.

“Gods,” He whispered as you leaned your forehead against his, pupils dilated, lips puffy as you gazed into his eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he brushed a lock of your hair back behind your ear before slowly kissing along your jaw, down your neck, finding that sweet spot that had you moaning softly. Slowly more and more lovebites and marks made its way onto your skin.

Your head was reeling by the time the car stopped in front of your apartment. Quickly looking out of the window before letting your eyes search Dmitri’s, you gave him a look, as if to ask him if he wanted to continue this. He caught on and brought his lips back to yours while he threw your coat back around your shoulders before opening the car door.

You fiddled with your keys, unable to stop them from shaking due to the cold and anticipation of what was about to happen. Dmitri’s hand closed around yours as he helped you unlock the door before the two of you rushed in, not sparing a moment before you were all over each other again. Your coat fell onto the floor of the hall and your heels and his shoes were discarded on the way as you made your way to your bedroom.

Before you could enter the room however, Dmitri had you pinned up against the door, hands groping at your breasts as he buried his face in your neck. “You sure you want to do this?” he mumbled, placing soft kisses on your warm skin.

“Wouldn’t have invited you in if I didn’t want this.” you moaned softly as he sucked on your skin, his hands moving to your back to find the zipper of your dress. Your hands were reaching for anything you could find, his chest, biceps, eventually ending back up in his curls.

“That’s my girl,” he said as you opened the bedroom door, stumbling in and taking him towards the bed. He finally managed to get your dress off and he watched in awe as it fell to the ground, smiling like crazy as he took in your body. Time seemed to slow down as you manoeuvred your hands into his suit jacket and took it off his shoulders, followed by your hands eagerly messing with the buttons of his dress shirt.

Once you had him shirtless you turned the both of you around as you pushed him down on the bed carefully, smirking at the surprise on his face by you taking the lead. He propped himself up on his elbows as he watched you unbuckle his belt, fidgeting with the button of his pants and his zipper before looking into his eyes as you took off his pants and boxers in one go. His eyes were hungry as he watched you lick your lips, eyeing his rock hard cock in front of you.

You gave him a devilish smile as you wrapped one of your hands around his length, slowly stroking him, watching as he already threw his head back at the feeling. He had dreamt of this ever since he first saw you, you had plagued his dreams and his waking life, you had him thinking of the filthiest things imaginable on the work floor but nothing he had imagined compared to the real thing.

Low whimpers changed to moans as you started sucking on his tip. Dmitri swore that he was in heaven when he felt your lips around his cock, all the while still stroking him with your hand. Almost out of reflex he brought his hand to your head, grabbing a fist full of your hair as your head bopped down on his length, tasting his precum on your tongue. You moaned at the feeling of him slightly pushing your mouth back onto his cock while he cursed under his breath. If your mouth alone already felt this heavenly, Dmitri couldn’t even begin to imagine how your cunt would feel.

“F-fuck,” Dmitri cursed as he watched you take his cock into your mouth, down to his base. You were a sight to look at, holding eye contact with him as you sucked his dick. The closer he got, the less control he had over his body, eventually his hips buckled, bringing tears to your eyes as your gag reflex was tested. “Jesus.” Dmitri was so lost in it, and seeing you there, tears mixed with your eye makeup dripping down your cheeks, it did things to him.

“Baby, f-fuck, I’m gonna-” Dmitri’s sentence was cut short as you suddenly pulled off, drool dripping down your chin, saliva strands hanging between you and his still very hard cock as you grinned at him. “You wanna kill me, pretty girl?” The giggle you let out had his dick twitching as he pulled you up on the bed between his legs, hands moving to undo your bra as you leaned your head against his shoulder, looking at him with those eyes that drove him absolutely crazy.

“Dmitri!” you gasped as he quite literally ripped off your panties, throwing them to the side before his fingers found their way to your clit. You didn’t have much time to protest more because before you knew it he had you moaning on his fingers. His head dipped back down to the crook of your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as his fingers absolutely destroyed your cunt.

“Say that again, pretty, say my name.” It drove him crazy. The way his name fell off your lips might be his new favorite sound. His thumb came up to draw circles on your clit and you moaned loudly. “Thaaat’s it, sing for me, baby.” he spoke in such a tone that had you clenching your walls around his fingers, he grinned at the feeling, picking up his pace as he watched your face, scrunched up in pleasure as you made the prettiest sounds for him.

“So wet for me, doing so good for me, baby, such a good girl.” you moaned at his words, throwing your head back against his shoulder as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Dmi- Dmitri I’m- Please,” you gasped, not being able to think straight and form coherent sentences.

“I know, pretty girl. You wanna cum?” You nodded at his words, he had you at his mercy completely. “Go on then, let go for me.”

That was all you needed to hear as your orgasm washed over you, Dmitri’s pace never slowing down as he rode you through your orgasm. His fingers reached places that had your toes curling in pleasure as he curled them up in your velvety walls.

“Dmitri, god-” you hiccuped as he continued to finger your cunt, the overstimulation was building up as you gripped his wrist, trying to get him to slow down. You heard him laugh slowly before retracting his hand. “N-not nice.” you leaned your head against his shoulder, watching his face as he brought his hand up to his face and licking his fingers clean off your juices.

God that’s hot.

You turned around, bringing your lips back to his, moaning softly as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“I need you, Dmitri.” You said, your kisses going down to his jaw, gently sucking and biting here and there as you went, feeling him grip at your hips, moving you to lay down.

Your head rested on your pillows as you watched him settle between your legs, smiling when he leaned over to press a kiss to your lips.

“You ready, baby?” his voice was low, and soft and he was oh so gentle as he guided his dick towards your clit. You heard him sigh in contentment once he bottomed out inside of you, and your fingers moved to intertwine into his hair.

You moaned when you felt him move slightly. “Please, please, please, Dima please.” you buried your face in his neck, feeling a soft laugh run through him.

“Begging already, are we pretty girl?” you nodded shamelessly. Your previous orgasm had you sensitive yet you couldn’t help but want more. Want him. “Whatever you wish.” he said with a kiss to the side of your head.

You moaned loudly as you felt him pull out and immediately thrust back in, setting a comfortable pace as he placed soft kisses on your shoulder while you scratched up his with your nails.

Dmitri was engulfed by it all, he was surrounded by you fully. Your moans, whimpers, your still slightly teary eyes, the look you gave him before kissing him with such passion he didn’t know was possible.

“You feel so good, baby. So so good.” he muttered against your lips as he pulled back from the kiss. He felt you slightly nod, looking at him with adoration when his hand groped at your breast again. It was so overwhelming, it was so good.

His hands slowly moved lower, and lower, reaching between the two of you to draw circles on your clit, watching how your eyes immediately rolled back in pleasure as your back arched.

“Dima, oh. You,” There wasn’t a single right word coming out of your mouth as you looked at the smiling man above you. “So handsome.” you managed between heavy breaths, looking how his smile somehow got even brighter as you reached up and held his face with one of your hands, adoring him.

You felt him picking up the pace as he lifted one of your legs up over his shoulder, your hand falling back on the duvet cover, which you gripped tightly. He reached so much deeper inside of you now. Dmitri felt it too, how your walls clenched around him and how you pressed your eyes closed in pleasure. A string of words came out of you, and neither of you could tell you what you said. The only clear thing being his name.

He reached places inside of you that you were sure of no one had ever touched before.

“Dima. I- Close-” your words were cut short as his fingers came back to your clit, rubbing circles as he groaned.

“I know, baby, me too.” he breathed out, his face scrunched up in pleasure. “Are you on anything?”

You nodded, “Y-yeah, pill. Ah. Please, Dima. Please.”

He nodded, looking you in the eye and giving you a small smile.

“Gonna cum, pretty girl?” he watched you nod, “C’mon then, let go for me.”

That was all you needed to hear before your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, moaning out his name as you did. You felt him put your leg down as he leaned over, gently kissing you as he chased his own high.

“Dima, oh god, Dima, please inside,”

You definitely knew how to kill him, Dmitri thought, those two words drove him crazy.

“Thank you- Fuck fuck fuck, [Name]” he cursed before you heard him moan and letting his head fall on your shoulder. “Gods, my, so good.” You moaned softly as you felt him fill you up, painting your walls white.

He softly lowered himself on top of you, catching his breath as he rested for a second.

“That was…”

“Perfect.” You finished for him before he could say something else and you felt him nod against your chest, his soft curls tickling your chin. One of your hands moved to them, gently swiping some of the curls away from his sweaty forehead.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep right there and then, but you did and Dmitri noticed as soon as your fingers stilled in his hair, so he looked up to you, only to see your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, indicating your sleeping state.

Slowly but surely he pulled out of you, slightly aweing at the way his seed dripped out of your pussy before looking around the room. He spotted the bathroom and walked over as quietly as he could to not wake you. He came back with a glass of water and a towel to clean you up.

You looked so soft, so adorable as you slept, and Dmitri couldn’t help himself to gently kiss your forehead as he pulled the blanket over you.

“Mmh…?” you stirred from your sleep and your eyes met Dmitri’s blue ones once again. “Come, please.” You murmured as you opened your arms, welcoming him back.

Dmitri smiled as he got under the blanket with you. wrapping his arms around you and gently caressing your back as you cuddled up to him.

“Dmitri?” you questioned, cracking your neck to look at him. You heard him hum in reply, “I think I might start to like you a lot.”

He laughed, smiling at you and your complete honesty. “Oh, baby.” he brought his lips down to yours before speaking softly “I know I loved you ever since you got up on that stage in The Ledbury.”

You giggled and buried your face back into his chest, feeling it vibrate with laughter before his adorable laugh echoed through the room.

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

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[mostly-marvel-musings]

Silver-tongued Lover

A/N: Written for @fandom-free-bingo . I do miss writing for Loki. Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story!

Pairing: Loki x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ strictly smut, bit of choking and hair pulling.

Word count: 1.9k +

Square filled: Dominant lover & Pulled onto their lap

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

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Trays of exquisite champagne and hors d'oeuvres were being passed around, an air of general merriment floated in the huge ballroom that was filled with the who’s who of the society. The party was in honor of yet another successful mission carried out by the Avengers, it was also just an excuse to get together, wear fancy clothes and mingle.

You certainly weren’t complaining.

Not when you had a wicked plan brewing in your mind about teaching a certain silver-tongued lover of yours a lesson. Or get him to teach you one. Either way, you were winning. That little spat you had earlier would be forgotten the moment he would lay eyes on you.

The dress you chose for the event was particular, forest green satin that fell over your curves, accentuating them in all the right ways while exposing just the right amount of skin. Underneath you wore matching lace lingerie, one you hoped would end up on your bedroom floor by the end of the night. Your hair fell down your back in loose curls, curtaining what was mostly a backless gown.

Everybody gathered where Tony Stark was making his famous speech, entertaining the crowd and making them laugh at his anecdotes. Blending with the crowd, you felt his presence before his cool, slender hand slipped around your waist, his lips pressed against your ear.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, my lady.”

That voice. You were never getting immune to that, you had to accept it. The honey-dripping voice that could bring anybody down on their knees. A shiver went down your spine as he teased the shell of your ear ever so lightly with his tongue, smirking to himself.

“I mean, it’s the dress, isn’t it?” you teased, composing yourself enough to bring your hair over one shoulder, showing off the sexy, open back of the dress. It was your turn to smirk now that his sapphire eyes had darkened. Like a brooding storm on gray night. Instinctively, he covered you to avoid unwanted prying eyes. He wouldn’t want any other man besides himself to lay eyes on what was his and his alone.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered, his grip on your waist tightening while you blinked up innocently.

“Enjoying the party, that’s all.” you murmured before walking away from the demi-God, adding an extra swing to your hips as you did, knowing he was watching you.

Weeks ago you had walked in on Loki working his charm over an intern to get information he needed, he had the nerve to brush it off simply by stating he had the gift of the gab and you were overreacting. Tonight you were prepared to show him what an overreaction truly was.

As the evening drew by you found yourself surrounded by men who weren’t subtle with their eyes, letting their gaze shamelessly drop to your cleavage as you chatted. From the corner of your eye, you found Loki glowering, ready to rip the men into shreds.

Around midnight, people found themselves sitting around the tables, conversations now turned into smaller groups.

“Ah there you are, Y/N! Do join us.” Thor’s baritone boomed over from one of the tables, offering you a kind smile as he sat opposite your favorite God of Mischief who looked over his shoulder, as if challenging you to join them.

Naturally, you had to.

Loki pulled you onto his lap just as you were about to pull a chair for yourself, securing you on one thigh with your legs on either side. You knew it was a deliberate move, he now had easy access to your heated core, one little brush and he’d know you were sans underwear.

“Might I say you look beautiful tonight, Lady Y/N.” Thor smiled at you, raising his glass in toast which you reciprocated.

“Loki, you’re awfully quiet today. Anything on your mind, brother?”

Clicking his tongue, Loki shifted underneath you, his slender fingers teasing the edge of the glass of mead he was having before picking it up.

“Not particularly. Lady Y/N might have an idea, although she spent half the evening conversing with other gentlemen.” His tone held light accusation, eyes holding a darkness that stirred something carnal within you.

“Ah! Green with jealousy.” Thor chuckled at his own joke drunkenly, going on about how trust is such an important factor in any relationship; meanwhile your little eye tennis match with Loki continued, each challenging the other to make the next move.

Shifting a little, you made sure to brush your core against his thigh, allowing a little gasp to leave your lips as it brushed against your clit ever so slightly. A smirk on your face grew wider as Loki’s fingers soon discovered your little secret, his eyes darkening further before he abruptly stood, taking you with him.

Without much as an excuse, he gripped your bicep and dragged you away from the party and towards the elevators. Once he had you caged between his arms, he didn’t mince his words as you’d awoken the monster that rested within him.

“What do you think you are playing at, pet?”

His breath was hot against your own, his face mere inches from yours, eyes boring into yours for answers.

“I don’t know what you mean..”

Wrong answer. That made him tug on your hair, gently but with enough force to elicit a gasp. With a knee wedged between your legs, Loki made sure to tease your core that was covered only by the thin fabric of your dress, all while the elevator traveled up to take you to your quarters.

“You are testing my patience, aren’t you love?”

Boldly, your hands found their way around his neck as you stood on your toes, lips reaching his ears to whisper the answer he was waiting for.

“I got what I wanted. You. Jealous.”

He released a breath against your cheek, chuckling upon hearing your words as the elevator promptly dinged to a halt. Straightening his robes, Loki stepped away from you and began taking long strides towards your shared room, leaving you no option but to follow.

His intentions were pretty clear when the doors were shut. To teach you a lesson.

Like a predator stalking its prey, he took deliberate steps towards you, eyes raking your form.

“Kneel.”

Even if you had planned to defy the demi-God earlier, you knew well enough to not do it after hearing that from him. Dropping to your knees with your hands on your thighs, you waited, pulse quickening as you heard him undo his pants, freeing his semi-hard length for you.

“You know what happens to pets who disobey?” Loki’s sultry voice sent tingles down your spine, a rush of excitement gathering between your legs as you looked up at him, shaking your head even though you knew the answer to that question.

His fingers traced the side of your face, ever so tenderly, admiring you at his mercy before he made you open your mouth and guided you towards his cock.

“Allow me to show you.”

Not that you assumed he’d be gentle, but as his length met with your warm mouth, Loki’s grip on your hair tightened and he bottomed out with a satisfied grunt.

With only a second to adjust, he began driving his hips back and forth, nudging the end of your throat with his sizeable length, until you gagged.

“You willingly chose to defy me. Allowed all those vile men to ogle at what’s mine.”

But you were being taught a lesson, so when your eyes met through your lashes, you saw a villainous glint that informed you that you were in for a long night.

Tears gathered in your eyes as he continued to drive his now hard cock in and out, the salty taste of precum evident on your tongue. It was torture but you endured, being rewarded with the most sinful grunts that reached your ears ever so often.

Abruptly, Loki pulled out, making you stand before pushing you against a wall.

“You played with fire today, pet.” He growled, invading your senses with all that was him once again.

“Only because I knew the fire liked to be played with.”

Your eyes flashed a hint of mischief, one you were certain he loved, but tonight wasn’t the night for it. This time your expensive dress bore the cost of your words. It was ripped until all of your legs were exposed to him.

“Another bad decision.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Now semi-naked and vulnerable, Loki pushed your legs apart before snaking his hand between them to run his thumb along your slit. When he was met with your glistening arousal, he smirked.

“Look at you, soaked and yearning for me, my darling.”

That was his first term of endearment for you, you smiled to yourself before your mouth fell open; having Loki’s cool, slender fingers breach your entrance without warning came out in a soft gasp.

He pulled them out just as quickly as he had pushed in, feeding them to you where you could taste your eagerness.

Hiking your leg up around his hips, he entered you in one swift motion, forehead touching yours as you both sighed. The room was then filled with your needy moans as Loki’s cock dragged on your walls only to impale you until he was buried to the hilt. The continued assault made you cry out loud as your fingers dug in his shoulders, desperate for an anchor.

With your eyes shut in pleasure, you felt the fingers of his free hand wrap themselves around your throat, putting just enough pressure to add to the delectable passion unfurling between you.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He grunted between his bruising thrusts, each one sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

“You. I belong to you, my prince.” You breathed, sounding needier than usual. You didn’t want this to end, the lesson you were being taught felt like a reward.

Your walls began clamping around his length, making him twitch and groan as his lips descended towards your neck, claiming your body as his property.

Carrying you to bed, he laid you down, a little gently this time, cock slipping into your tight heat once again as he pinned your hands above your head, holding you captive. This time, his pace resumed the same brutality, your climax approaching hard and fast as he continued.

Reveling in the way your skin bloomed and flushed under his touch, Loki’s sense of dominance only grew. He’d never admit but he secretly loved the way you defied him in your ways and challenged him, it only always led to stimulating arguments and explosive sex.

The way you fell apart under him only drove him to chase his own release, his cock had been begging for it since he laid eyes on you that evening.

A few moments later while you basked in your high, his hips lost rhythm and he spilled his seed deep within your sopping cunt.

As breaths came slowed down to a normal pace, Loki found himself grinning against your warm skin, finally enveloping you in a kiss that conveyed all that words could never.

[fuck1ng-queen]

Linda

Noah Sebastian x Brazilian!Reader

Rating: free for all

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: new feelings, a bit of alcohol, fluffy

Author comments: first of all: happy new year everyone! i'm here to tell none of this is my fault, blame it on @concretejunglefm for making me think about teaching portuguese (my mother language) for Noah! this became a shameless self insertion, i'm sorry, but i also hope you enjoy it! (and if you never tried pão de queijo before, what are you waiting for?)

It had been a while since you moved to the US. Who would tell you that when you started at a São Paulo’s Bureau of Musical Production, your work would take you so far? You remembered well one of your first big jobs, an international one, making you contact the Americans. That was the way you met for the first time some of the legends of musical production behind hits everyone used to listen to. Furthermore, you were so glad to meet people you admired for defying the conservative concept of people who say that rock and roll is dying. 

You showed yourself as a professional, capable person, and soon a proposal was made to you. The payment was way better compared to your job in Brazil, and you had no one there to make you feel forced to stay. Without overthinking, or you would probably give up, you said yes, and now there you were, at the land of Uncle Sam, facing a new language, new habits, and new companions. You missed your job partners and even your difficult boss to deal with, but now you had no one but Bad Omens to work with. Their vocal, Noah Sebastian, was relentless at his work, focused, and with the gift of the gab to conquer what he wanted. And, face the fact, he conquered you too. He was a great work partner, making you feel welcome and accepted. 

It was a hot summer night, although the autumn was already on the corner. Every time you and your partners were successful, you celebrated at the same pub, and tonight it wasn’t going to be different. After weeks of crossing nights wide awake, the team could finally show the new project with efficiency. 

You were already drinking your third beer and everyone wasn’t there yet. The weirdest thing was that everyone was always very punctual and once you worked in a stressful job, when they were late you just couldn’t help feeling worried. Impatiently you stood up. The only one there besides you was Noah. 

“Gotta call’em, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Noah nodded, agreeing. It didn’t take too long for you to come back, with a way better gaze than you were before. 

“They're not coming yet, still have some things to sort out in the studio. I’ve no idea what.” 

“Neither. Want to let it go for another day?” 

You sat taking the glass with your beer and looking at the lipstick mark you had left on it. 

“No, we can wait for them a little. For now, it seems like it’s just the two of us tonight, Noah Sebastian.” 

“Just the two of us, babe.” He winked at you. 

You remembered the moment you started working with him… Damn, he was good with words. Noah’s answer wasn’t a big thing, but he always knew how to use the right, and sharp, words, in the most opportune moments. The way Noah used to choose his words lit something up inside you, and that wasn’t the first time. Every time it happened you made sure to hide it the most quickly you could from him, and from you too. Lucky you, even before you could feel ashamed to think something different from literal, you jumped on the chair, remembering something. You took a tiny notebook that used to live in your pocket and wrote “ligar para a mamãe ainda hoje!” On the page there were also other things written, all in Portuguese, catching Noah’s attention. 

“Your English is so good I always forget you’re not from here.” He gave a muffled chuckle. 

“Just remembered I have to call my mom so I wrote to not forget. Did you know even I forget it sometimes? But always happens something who remembers me I’m not from here. For example, every time I go to the bakery to buy us some donuts, I wish I could buy a huge bag of pão de queijo or a few coxinhas.” You made a pause. “I miss home sometimes.” 

Noah's eyes sparkled with interest. It was fascinating to see the way you talked about your country every time. About food, about people… Noah couldn’t even imagine how somebody could spend Christmas Eve in a more than 86ºF heat. But the thing he liked the most was seeing you when you were by yourself at your table at the office, concentrated and grumbling something in Portuguese. He knew that merda was something bad and arrasei was when you were proud of something you had done well, but maybe only now, by the effect of a few alcohols, or by being alone with you, he figured out he just knew all of that because he noticed you more than he should when you were speaking your mother language. He sipped his beer and looked deeply at you with that warm pair of brown eyes. 

“You could teach me a few Portuguese, what do you think?” 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to act the most normal you could, but on the inside, you were in a mix of feelings and thoughts. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was because you were alone with him, but you never felt so into him like this moment. 

“I think it’s great. What do you want to learn?” 

“I don’t know… Maybe you could translate what you see now.” 

You looked around, thinking about what to choose. 

“Let’s see… We’re drinking cerveja, we’re in a bar, just like in English, I'm a produtora, and… I don’t know what to say anymore” you laughed. 

Noah listened to all your words with attention, hypnotized. 

“And how do I say you’re beautiful?” When he figured out, it was too late, he had already asked. 

“Você é lindo” you answered, with an accomplishment tone. 

“So… Did you know você é lindo?” Noah told you, seeming more serious than before. 

“No” you giggled, that was really cute. “When you talk to a girl you have to say linda. Lindo is for the boys.” 

“So you told me I’m lindo?” 

“Maybe…” You winked an eye at him. 

“Oh, thank you, I wasn’t expecting that. You’re linda too.” He got closer, putting his elbow on the table and resting his cheeks on his hand, without taking his eyes off of yours. 

“Hm, obrigada…” You thanked. That was starting to be funny. 

“De nada…?” Noah tried to respond to you. 

“Yes! You remembered!” You answered excitedly, putting your hand on his arm. 

It took a second for you to figure out where your hand was, and instead of removing it, it just felt right not to take it off. You looked at each other in a moment that looked like an eternity. His eyes didn’t help looking at yours, and then at your lips, returning to your eyes again. 

“Can I ask you something?” he finally answered. 

“Yes.” 

“How can I say can I kiss you?” 

He was too serious to be joking, and you felt your stomach trembling with anxiety. You were nervous, but damn… You wanted to kiss him right now. 

“Posso te beijar?” You finally translated. 

“Yes, you can.” He answered. 

And then it happened. When you realized, you were already lost on his lips, feeling tickles on your mouth because of a few stubble on his face, and letting your body heat up. 

(…) 

You showed up at the bureau the day after feeling kind of weird. You didn’t know why the others didn’t show up but to be honest, you were glad they didn’t. You and Noah spent an incredible night at the bar the day before, sharing kisses and caresses, talking and flirting with each other. Both of you agreed not to spend the night together, you were kind of drunk and you wanted to enjoy, and discover, each other as you deserved. But now you thought it was just a drunk conversation between the two of you, he would probably not even remember anything that happened the night before anymore. 

You entered the corridor of your level and noticed a package on your table. You approached, smelling a nostalgic scent. On the package it had a small post-it, saying “Good morning, linda.” 

You opened the paper bag, finding a lot of fresh pão de queijo inside. You smelled those tiny breads and felt at home again, smiling. You lifted your eyes excitedly, looking for him. He was in front of the coffee machine, trying to disguise himself, but you knew he was paying attention to you when he looked at you and winked one eye, smiling. You smiled back, feeling your heart heating up. 

He remembered the night before, after all. And you couldn’t wait for the two of you to have other nights to remember. 

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masterlist | send me an ask to join my taglist <3

taglist: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard |

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for those who are curious: this is pão de queijo, and this is coxinha

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: memories flood back of when you were younger, Eddie wants to talk but silence holds merit.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: cold before the warm

masterlist

The nub end of graphite scrawls against a crinkled back page of paper. Ripped haphazardly from a composition book labeled: Language Arts—E.M.

The yellow pencil was pocked with teeth marks, having been between a pair of teeth that weren’t yours, mind not even gathering the germs that could be harbored in the pressed wood. 

Your tongue had been poked out for nearly three minutes according to the watch on Eddie’s wrist. Your brain working overtime trying to find the best phrase that would stump your friend in the game of Hangman. 

The alphabet was written in a hurry on the left side of the page, parallel to the hanging post. Beneath that were evenly scratched dashes on the blue printed line, waiting for their companion of letters to be filled by Eddie’s correct guesses. 

Putting the pencil down with a satisfying smack, you look up from your masterpiece confidently.

“Okay, I’m ready!” 

Eddie chomps a piece of Big Red loud between his teeth, unhooking his tangled feet from underneath himself and stretching out his skinny legs, jeans from the previous school year hacked into shorts for the summer, “took long enough.”

You make a face and flip him a suggestive finger, the nail chipped and painted pink from the last time your neighbor Michelle let you play with her nail polish, and in return you listened to her gab about her boyfriend while she combed her hair like Marcia Brady. 

“Don’t be a poor loser because you’ve lost the last four games, Clove.” 

He laughs when your eyebrows turn into a pout, the heel of your worn sneaker kicking into his. The same black pair of converse, yours a few sizes smaller, faded and tattered, fitting your feet in a way that was uncomfortable for the arch of your foot, years of wear accustomed to another’s foot print that belonged to the boy across from you. 

Letters are guessed and lines filled in. Eddie insists that you make the hangman have a face complete with nose, mouth and eyes realizing that he is close to eating his words from earlier. 

“Would you like the hangman to be wearing socks and a hat?” You ask honestly, hiding a smirk behind the paper. 

Eddie scoffs, working a bite mark into his bottom lip as he racks his brain for what kind of dumb phrase you conjured up, “I quit on terms that you’re a cheater.” 

The insult was harsh, not worse than the words that you heard around your kitchen table or ones that ricocheted off the thin walls when you were on the cusp of dreaming. No, this word hurt. Stung into your skin like a wasp, repeating its terror until you were swollen and skin ached of heat. 

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging to your lashes ready to drop. The paper clenched in your fist as you shoved it under Eddie’s nose, proving your innocence. 

“I am not!” 

“Sure you are,” he takes the paper from you, folding it roughly into an uneven shape and shoving it between the couch cushions behind him, “Cheatin’ Clove. Has a nice little ring to it doesn’t it?” 

Before Eddie can say anymore, a can of Coca Cola is thrown at his head hitting him with a thud, followed by your whimpers and the sound of your feet clapping against the dirty linoleum. 

“Clove! ow! Wait!” 

The screen door scratched your palms as you twisted it open. Jumping from the stairs and landing hard in the dirt, you didn’t bother bringing your bike home. Choosing to run the short distance instance instead, shutting the front door with a heavy slam. 

Tears soaked your pillowcase before you drifted to sleep, curled up on top of the patchwork quilt on your bed. 

Eddie. 

His name was trapped in your mouth, dry along your tongue, unable to force its way out. 

He was a ghost to you, memories that were buried and dormant were now flooding back at full speed, pinging around your brain firing each nerve tucked away deep, landing you a migraine behind your eyes. 

Seven years. 

Seven fucking years, since you had seen those doe shaped eyes, brown muddied colors still lost in a child’s innocence and wonderment— barely aged from the last time you had seen him. That memory burned into your retinas, like fuel to a pained flame. 

His hair was longer, well past his shoulders now, fringe of his bangs still thick on his forehead. His knuckles were covered in tattoos, the little you can see of his neck is also full of dark wisps of ink.

He says your nickname, the one only he knew. A joke between best friends. 

You try to open your mouth, fighting like hell to will anything to come out, but nothing does, the words choke against your throat, caught against each other in a tangled string of sharp edges.

“uh— I—E..”  

His eyes grew bigger than they already were, waiting for you to say something, anything. It was as if time stood still, all the pain from years prior coming back.

Images of Eddie, his smile, the bloody gash on his knee from his longboard, small memories, painful ones that could bring someone less strong to their knees: all flash behind your eyes.  

The pain from all those years ago was searing through you like a knife. Memories that you kept buried away were suddenly throttling you like they had just happened, the wounds that were licked clean were now fresh and open, blood flowing freely.

Before hot tears can spill down your face, you spin wildly on your heel, walking fast and turning back to the bar. The tray slamming onto the back counter with a loud bang, snapping.  

Your breath was erratic, heart racing. Whatever lingering high you had was gone. Emotions you hadn’t felt in years coursing through you demanding to be felt. 

Why was he back? 

You didn’t know the purpose of his return to Hawkins, only registering how hurt you felt that he was. The day he left still stung your spine, sending shivers all over your body. 

Did he ever think of you? In the seven years he had been gone did you bleep on his radar even once?

Hanging your head your fingers tap nervously on the lacquered wood, trying to calm yourself down before you work yourself up anymore than you already were. 

“Be right back,” you called over your shoulder to Jolene, head down walking fast to the cooler. 

The chilled air made your skin prick with goosebumps but you couldn’t care, the only thing you could feel was your heart shattering to pieces all over again. 

The floor was cold under your body, shelves and beer boxes held you up as you fell apart. Deep shuddering breaths in and winded ones out, you don’t wipe the tears as they free fall down the apples of your cheeks—dragging black eyeliner and mascara with them til they trickle from your chin. 

The callus of your life made it hard to feel, even harder to cry. But once the gate was open, it was challenging to close. A dam of pent up emotions broke free out of you like an angry flood, full of irreparable damage, forgotten feelings and an exploding heart. Taking with it years of questions, hopes and dreams. 

Scenery wasn’t the only thing that was altered in his time away. You evolved, having to peel off layers of naivety and fear. Would he care if he knew? 

Wiping another sludge of wet makeup from under your eyes you catch the tattoo on your hand. 

It burned on your skin. Prickling like it hadn’t been ten years since you’d gotten it.  Years that seemed like a different lifetime ago.

It practically was.

The boy who did them was long gone, and the man in his place was someone you didn’t even know. 

—

It was you. 

The only person in all of Hawkins who made it bearable. What should have been a joyful reunion was clouded over with painful memories. Of course there were good ones, but mostly the bad out weighed anything happy. 

You had always been the little bit of sunshine that broke through on a cloudy day, the only person he trusted with silly secrets, trusted with anything.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that you were here. Not just in Hawkins. But working here. 

A surge of rage filled his stomach but was quickly washed out by pain as you stomped away, looking as if you had seen a ghost, a part of your past that you didn’t want to remember. 

Was that what he was to you? A painful memory, one that was more sour than everything else that happened? 

Jeff’s voice is muffled in his ears, as if he’s trying to speak underwater. He can’t wrap his head around this whole thing. The guilt eating him alive. 

Eddie clears his throat and takes a generous sip of beer, trying to stop his hands from shaking, chilled sweat creeping down his back. He fiddles with a napkin, ripping the end into small shreds and rolling them up like a kid would for a spit wad. 

He could map out every scar on your arms and legs, tell anyone the exact color of your eyes, in sunlight and in a dark room. He knew your favorite song, that you were afraid of the dark and that your front teeth didn’t come in for almost three months after he had helped you pull them out.

You had taught him how to hang upside down on the monkey bars behind the trailer park. He taught you how to play his guitar, and if he thought hard enough he could remember the smell of your shampoo. 

You were everything to him.

Bestfriends since the cradle, made up handshakes and secrets sworn to the grave. But years, tear spilled miles and the guilt of broken promises wedged a distance between you. 

One that couldn’t be made better by the letters he sent that went unanswered. And it definitely wouldn’t get fixed in one random night when fate lead him to this fucking dump, back under your nose.

It hurt not seeing the sparkle in your eyes, but he could only blame himself. 

“Sorry, what was that?” 

Jeff motions for Eddie to lean in, doing so he jerks his head to the bar where you are standing stone-still hovering over a counter with your back turned to them. “She looked familiar, right? Did she go to school with us?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted, trying to shove down his emotions with another gulp of beer, “she did.” 

Jeff leans back, “Chloe? Cassie, Chasity… no. Claire? Shit what was her name?” 

Eddie’s eyes fell to the smudgy tattoo, he rubs his thumb over the ink, “Clove.”

“That’s right!” clapping his hands together, “knew it was something weird.” 

Eddie let himself smile. Small and weak, his lip ticking up on one side. He rubbed the tattoo again, remembering that day like it was yesterday. 

—

The summer breeze blows hotly through the makeshift curtains, sending the loose paper on the dresser scattering like desert tumbleweeds across Eddie’s bedroom floor, joining the litter of car magazines and unwashed clothes taking up space in the tiny room. 

“gotta sit still Slick, or this won’t work.” 

You were biting through your lip, trying to muffle a cry from breaking out, “ow..it hurts!” 

It was your idea to get matching tattoos with your best friend, and it was Eddie who said he could do them no problem. He had already tattooed a heart on Dave with his girlfriend's name through the center last month—never mind that she dumped him a week later. The sobs coming from trailer 11 didn’t ever seem to end. 

“Well yeah,” Eddie chuckles, clearing his throat and puffing behind a cigarette, “what did you expect it would be done with? A marker?”

Your right hand rested on his bent knee for precision. The other was clamped tight over your eyes in hopes that if you didn’t see how it was done, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. 

The warmth of your sweaty nervous palm on his jeans felt hot, as if you were being burnt alive. But, despite the pain from the needle going in and out of your skin, Eddie was gentle. 

His shoulder provided comfort as you leaned your head onto it, slowly wetting his shirt with your tears. You curl your body into his side, knees stabbing into his ribs, head pressed tight to the side of his neck, hand fisting the sleeve of his shirt for support as you intake a sharp breath when he finishes the curve of the dainty heart. 

“Need a break?” he asks, setting the needle down on the carpet, rubbing a pattern with his thumb on your hand. “I made some Kool-Aid yesterday, your favorite kind.” 

Lynyrd Skynyrd plays softly in the background and Eddie strums along on your palm to the guitar solo. 

Muffled against his cotton shirt, your voice is hoarse from the tears, “orange?” 

He chuckles around a cloud of smoke, “hell yeah, picked some up yesterday morning before my shift, got a few packets for your place too, I know how much Lolly likes it.” 

“Speaking of,” you uncross your legs to stand, “I gotta go check on her.” 

Eddie stands up with you, a whole head taller than you were, you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and slot it into your own, inhaling the tobacco expertly into your lungs as you examine the small tattoo on your skin.

“‘m not done yet, but what do ya think?” 

Blood and ink were smeared around it messily, but it looked identical to the one he had on his left hand, yours only missing the clover. 

A smile stretches across your lips and you feel the burn of tears from in your eyes, “it’s perfect, Eddie.”  

He opens his bedroom door, grabbing the cigarette from your mouth and squishing it into the heaping ashtray on his nightstand. “you really think so?” he whispers.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” 

He blows his lips in a raspberry, long legs walking down the dingy carpet hallway to the kitchen, “let those prissy bitches try to pick on you now… nobody wants to fight someone with tattoos.” 

The girls at school weren’t nice in elementary school and they somehow got nastier with every year. You went from being “stinky girl” to “trailer skank” overnight. 

A far cry from any sort of originality, but that’s how Hawkins was, ruled by the dim and dumb, daddy’s bank account used as a hierarchy status. 

You always brushed them off, keeping mostly to yourself and to your best friend. Eddie took it upon himself to conjure up a frenzied retort that would have them scoffing in disgust. 

With Eddie, nothing else mattered, he didn’t care if your clothes didn’t fit right, or if your ponytail looked scraggly. He didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. You were just two neglected trailer park kids, but to him, you were important. 

“You're an artist Eddie, could probably make a lot of money doing this someday.” 

The idea fell silent between you, both knowing in your hearts what path your life would lead you down. Stuck in the nightmare of what went on behind the thin walls in the trailer park.

Peering over the counter you can see Lolly. Sleeping just as soundly as she had when you laid her down. The stolen playpen from the yard sale on Cornwalis turned out to be worth the uncomfortable bike ride back to Forest Hills with Eddie standing on his pedals and you on the handlebars holding onto dear life as he raced back home. 

Her chubby cheeks were pressed against the yellow floral sheet, little curls twisted into two tiny pigtails, milk dribbling slow from her puckered lips. 

You smile at the sight of such innocence, wishing that you too were unaware of what life was actually like, and knowing that you would do anything to keep your little sister safe from this reality for as long as possible. 

“Can’t believe she cried that long, usually she loves pb&j’s..” Eddie points to your head, trying not to laugh, “you still have peanut butter in your hair by the way.” 

Lolly had thrown every last bit of her sandwich in a temper tantrum fueled by a lack of sleep. Her aim being perfect with you as her target. 

Twenty minutes with your head under the bathroom sink and Eddie cackling as he squeezed shampoo on your head apparently wasn’t enough to get the sticky treat out.  

“Little shit,” you huff, a smirk on your lips, turning to the fridge, and reaching for the sugary orange drink from the shelf, shutting the door with your hip, “think she might be cuttin’ some teeth at least that’s what Patty said last time she babysat.” 

Eddie reached for the plastic cups that were nabbed from Benny’s after one of his busboy shifts, holding them steady as you poured the juice.

Only spilling a little, you lifted the end of your shirt to mop the counter up. “Kids are weird,” Eddie says, smacking his lips with an orange mustache after a long swig, “remind me never to have ‘em.” 

Snorting through your nose you swallow harshly, a quirk to your eyebrow, “having kids is totally normal, all of our neighbors do.”

He thought quietly before speaking again, “yeah, and nobody is ever around..” he shakes his head. “We’re gonna leave here someday, you and me.” 

You roll your eyes, “sure thing, Slim.” 

Eddie talked crazy like this sometimes. Always dreaming bigger than you could even fathom. Head permanently stuck in the clouds, wishing, hoping for something better than the cards you were both dealt. But you on the other hand, your feet, in hand-me-down shoes, never left the ground. 

His voice was stern when he spoke to you, eyes pleading, and you had never heard him like that before. 

“I’m serious, I’ll die before I stay here,” he moves forward, holding your biceps as he looks down at you, dark eyes wide, almost wild, “I promise you, we won’t end up like this...okay?” 

—

He couldn’t blame you for the way you reacted when your eyes met his. Seeing you tonight hurt more than he could have ever imagined it too. To be honest, he didn’t expect you to still be in Hawkins, but then again— where would you have gone? 

“…you still there dude?” 

Eddie’s eyes shift to Jeff, plastering a smirk to his lips to hide the pain etched so evidently on his face, “yeah, I just uh— tired I guess.” 

He scanned the bar for you, still seeing your frame behind the counter, this time turned around handing a round of beers to a couple of college punks. 

“How far is the drive?” 

Bless Jeff for trying to keep this conversation alive, but Eddie’s mind was anywhere but here at this table. 

Questions he never thought to ask, suddenly poured into his mind. Did you finish high school? Where were you living? How’s Lolly? How old is she now? How have you been? 

He felt sick that he didn’t know the answer to any of them. Guilt devouring away at him like a flesh eating amoeba. 

“Six—no, probably seven hundred miles.. give or take.” 

Had you applied to college? Were you still living in the trailer park?  

“Damn,” Jeff said, scrubbing his hands down his face, “gonna have to visit you sometime, show me around all the cool places… you ever been out to LA? My girlfriend, well ex now, we went a year ago around Christmas time she really loved...”

Although Eddie didn’t know the answers, he figured maybe Jeff would. 

He shakes his head, interrupting his friend, hand raised in apology, “hey, uh wh— whatever happened to her?” He hooks a thumb in your direction in the most nonchalant way he could, even though his entire body was fidgeting in anticipation. 

Jeff raises an eyebrow, “Clove? Oh umm, shit… well I think, no.. yeah no, she didn’t graduate. I remember hearing that she had dropped out, and now she works here apparently.” 

A smirk forms on his lips and he points behind him to the back corner, “forgot to tell you, rumor has it this place is more than just a strip joint,” his dark eyebrows wiggle, “if y'know what I mean.” 

For the first time tonight, Eddie noticed girls coming and going from the beaded doorway, vacant expressions on their smudged faces. Trailing behind were drunk men with glazed eyes and sweaty foreheads, readjusting the threads of their belts and slacks. 

He scans the bar with wild eyes in search of you. Hoping and praying to whoever would listen that you weren’t a part of this. You couldn’t be. 

Who is he kidding? 

If you were still in Hawkins, still under the weight and scrutiny of the inner dealings that started in the trailer park, you were very much involved. 

Realization hit him like a freight train. His stomach clenched and warped with the dreaded grief and guilt he still carried. Deep down he had figured this was what your life had come to. Lying to himself in thinking that you had gotten away from all of this. But seeing it firsthand, in the flesh—he couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

Choking back vomit, he slides from the booth hastily, practically spilling his beer all over the table in his desperate attempt to find you. 

“shit!” Jeff shouted, “dude, you alright?” 

He wasn’t. 

He stumbles from the table, tripping over his own boots and knocking into one of the burly bearded men at the bar, sending his drink tumbling to the ground. Glass and liquor covering the floor like the sparkle of a fresh snow. 

“What’s your problem asshole!?” 

His fiery red hair matched his temper, and the weathered roughness of his cheeks, “ever been inside a bar, tough guy?”  

Before Eddie can whip up a witty retort, Mr. Big Red comes back for more, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him into the high counter of the bar, “hey honey, better stop serving this prick, he can’t handle his liquor like a real man.” 

The swinging doors open and there you are again, struggling beneath the keg you’re carrying. He wanted to jump up and grab it from you, but Eddie was still pinned to the bar by the guy's hand on his bicep, tightening more and more. 

Your eyes reach his and it’s like you don’t even see him. 

“Agh, c’mon Mick,” you say, a warm smile on your lips, “I like ‘em nice and drunk, that’s when they tip the best.”

You set the keg down with a metallic thud on the floor, grabbing a bottle of Jameson and two shot glasses. The mahogany liquid pours smoothly, much like the dark eyes watching you, and heat crawls up your neck. 

Sliding one towards Mick, you hold the other up by your black painted fingers, Clinking them together with a ‘cheers’ and bringing the glass to your lips, allowing your eyes to finally glance towards Eddie. 

He was taller now. His shoulders, more broad, filling in the teenage lithe muscles that fit his frame then. His baby face disappeared entirely, now his chin was stretched with a sharp jaw, which was currently clenched like he was holding back anger, his throat bobbing in a dance of tattooed skin. 

You swallow the liquor in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slips down your throat, the same fire that’s staring from across the counter. Eddie hadn’t taken his eyes from yours.

A twitch forms in your eyelid and you blink it away, setting the glass down hard on the wooden countertop.

You lean your body across the bar, collecting the glassware that’s accumulated since you had been hiding in the cooler. Placing them gently into the warm sudsy sink to wash before filling the small dishwasher below. 

Mickey was already turned back around, talking loudly to Wendy and trying to get her to sit on his lap for five bucks. His grip on Eddie’s arm turns limp when you slide him another shot, just for good measure. 

The bar is chaotic, loud and boisterous, but the air between you and Eddie is quiet, stagnant, no warmth from you. Icicles could form from your frigid silence. 

He knocks his knuckles against the bar, big gaudy rings clacking along, keeping in rhythm to the music playing overhead, but you don’t give in. Don’t humor him by asking how or why he knew Rock Me Amadeus.

“Hey V,” you call out to your work partner, “get this stranger a drink before he gets a parking ticket.” 

Swiveling away from him, you squat down to maneuver the keg to where it needed to go, rocking it on its rounded edge and swiveling it into place. 

Veronica’s voice is cheery and dripping with sex appeal as she asks Eddie what he wants to drink, and you can’t misplace the deepness of his voice, and the polite way he tells her that he’s fine for the evening. 

Cracking the top of the keg, you hook it up to the correct tap, shoving with all your might to get it in under the cabinet and slotted in properly. 

Spending more time than necessary below the bar, you avoid the warm chocolate eyes waiting for you up above. 

What were you supposed to say to him? Thank God you’re home? What the hell did he even want?  

An ant is huddled around a spilled drop of grenadine, you watch as it collects the sticky treat—what you wouldn’t give to switch places with the insect for a few hours. 

If one thing was certain you would need a little encouragement to make it through tonight and the haunting memories that shuddered through you every time you looked at Eddie.

Your purse was in the cubby over to the right, nimble fingers find the familiar plastic of the bottle, screwing off the top and clicking three pills into your hand. 

A greedy palm finds your lips, your eager tongue accepting the drugged gift. Swallowing without any liquid, your spit was more than enough to coat the tablets, watering upon knowing the relief you’ll be met with. 

More shouts and hollers boom through your ears, this time in celebration. 

“Where’d you go sweet cheeks? Need a round, Bobby just found out his girl isn’t pregnant!” 

Duty called, and you knew those dark eyes were still waiting for you, hide and seek was done for now, and in a few short minutes, you’d feel like you were flying. 

Boots planted firm on the sticky tiles, you push yourself up, fully expecting a litter of questions. But when you face him, he’s quiet. Silently watching your every move. 

Not in a way you’re watched by every other slimeball in this town, his eyes never once flicking over your curves or the deep v of your shirt. 

Eddie was admiring the woman you’d become. The shy girl he once knew was replaced by a force to be reckoned with. Did you become that way because he left? No longer having him around to stick up for you?

He pushed out those thoughts, thoughts of you alone. 

The way you fleetingly moved from drunk to drunk, collecting tips and pouring drinks, you were a natural. no longer the girl that was afraid of spiders and slept with a nightlight. What should have been a comfort in his heart stretched into an angry bruise against his soul. 

Warmth riddled your face into a smirk as you dug jabs back at the guys, making them pay up front before they tried to slink away to the back rooms. 

Eddie couldn’t miss how the smile never reached your eyes, that glassy lost look couldn’t fool him, another ping of guilt cutting through him like a knife. 

You were elbow deep in the warm water now, fingers pruned and slicked with soap when he finally speaks. The counter had cleared up enough that he wasn’t squashed between some greasy assholes, the regulars fighting to get to the best seats closest to the stage.  Tiffany on her second set of the night, her shiny heels spinning in the air to Girls, Girls, Girls. 

“So I’m a stranger now?”

Your fingers slip on the smooth surface of a glass and it hits the bottom of the sink with a thud at the sound of his voice, thankfully not breaking. Looking up, the smile fades as you stare back at him, fully allowing yourself to take him all in.  “what else would you be?” 

“Gee, I don’t know, Slick,” his hands twirl the rings on his left hand, “a friend.” 

Your laugh is filled without humor, sheer mockery as you shake your hands above the sink ridding them of suds and water. 

“Friend…” the scoff is thick in your throat, swallowing a ball of vomit before you continue, “that’s rich isn’t it?” 

“Clove..”

“…y’know…I had one of those once,” you say, eyes dead behind your irises, moving to the spouts of the draft beer, “at least I thought he was.” 

“Can we talk?” he pleads. 

“..think I’ve heard more than enough…” slapping down two heavy beers in front of him, you glare into muddy brown eyes, trying not to let yourself feel the pain in your chest, “these two are on the house.” 

Without a second glance or even a fuck you, you stomp towards the dressing room, leaving him sitting alone to sit alone at the bar, and for a split second you allow yourself to feel good it. His turn to be left in the dust this time. 

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani i @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler @succubusmunson @hereforshmut @alyisdead

[aggro-my-beloved]

Trash Polka (AsherxBabe)

note: this hasn’t been fully looked over/edited so if you notice my mistakes just pretend you don’t. k thx.

summary: *doodles that a person draws on themselves will appear on their soulmate’s skin* [babe is tired of wearing hoodies in summer, and leggings in the spring. but their soulmate seems too caught up in his career to mind leaving little notes and drawings on their skin, rather than revealing himself. babe DOESN’T take matters into their own hands, but they soon won’t be covered by a mod-podge of their soulmate’s scribbles. one can hope, at least.]

pairing(s): AsherxBabe (romantic), AsherxDavid (platonic)

warning(s): none

word count: 1.4k

estimated reading time: 7 mins

taglist: @ther3alsweetheart @darlin-collins @professionallyyappinabtangst @elles-roses @ashertickler mwah

“GLOVES AGAIN? IT’S A HUNDRED degrees outside.” Katherine quips from her desk. As usual, Babe’s morning is all swearing and stumbles through the office building as they don a more than modest collection of clothing.

“I think it’s a hundred and one, actually.” Vinny chortles from his cubicle. Since turning down his invitation to be his plus one at the office holiday party the year prior, he’s been more prone to poke fun at them. Babe illustrates the smirk tugging at his lips and fantasizes ripping it clean off his visage while preparing for another busy morning. Bag strap on the back of their chair. The largest iced coffee Starbucks could provide them on the ceramic coaster gifted by Katherine, which reads some motivational slogan Babe would be caught dead uttering in any unironic fashion.

“I still don’t know how you manage to work like that.” Their colleague’s tone is the perfect balance of judgment and concern; a siren song can draw the most taboo answers from anyone she crosses paths with. Babe is aware of this, and yet they still respond. Katherine is approachable, but isn’t as prone to flapping her lips compared to others who lurk in the office.

“I told you before, Kat, I get cold easily. Low iron, and stuff.” Babe clears their throat and wiggles their chair closer to the computer before them. A few minutes pass, and they flicker their eyes between the two cubicles on either side of them, harboring a yapping Vinny on his phone, and Katherine engrossed in her bookkeeping tasks. Babe’s movement is subtle as they sink lower in their chair, and stretch their arms beneath their desktop to flick on the fan to its highest setting. Another glance back and forth. More nonsense gabs from Vinny. Even more sounds of filing papers from Katherine. They are sandwiched in a personal hell, but the heavy dress pants and turtleneck strangling their figure may be to blame for that.

Relieving wool gloves from their hands has grown to be an orgasmic experience for Babe. One of the few things they miss about working remotely is the pleasure of joining video meetings half-naked, and feel content with the fact that their colleagues are none the wiser about what their lower half is lacking. In this office full of prying eyes and passive-aggressive chatter, though, the simple act of baring their hands fills them with equal amounts of pleasure and shame of a lambasted stripper.

Babe’s eyes cascade over the swoops and strikes of black ink on skin, written in their spoken language but still holding no significant meaning—the lines embedded in their palm act as lines on ruled paper.

Sm Tourn @ Davey’s Fri 8

Buy milk, almost out

DO NOT DRINK MILK IN FRIDGE!

For whatever reason, the person who left these notes for themself also found it apropos to doodle a smiley face below the crease of their thumb. Babe stiffens at the tickling sensation on their opposite hand and draws their attention toward the writing slowly appearing on it. It’s messier than chicken scratch with some typos, like every other message this person leaves for them to discover, but Babe’s witnessed these messages long enough to decode them, or at the very least, try to.

The first time their parents discovered the writing on their skin, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. They were freshly tween, overflowing with naivety and curiosity, and they assumed their anonymous messenger was too. Babe’s father clocked them at the dinner table and demanded they show him their hand, where a “naughty” word written in bold lettering was spelled out on four out of five of their knuckles. Any excuse Babe mustered in that moment would have been a lie because they were still clueless as to how random notes appeared on their skin, or who the person writing them was.

They chalked it off as a word they heard from their classmates, but it didn’t satisfy their parents in the slightest. Babe missed a whole week's worth of Pokémon and Spongebob on the family television and held that grudge for as long as they could remember. But with no face or name to target their anger towards, they learned that stewing was pointless. Soapy water was the obvious solution in Babe’s mind. Just scrub hard enough and there would be no proof, right? Wrong. Whatever mystical power is embedded in this ink, or Babe’s skin, allows it to last twenty-four hours when fighting against soap, stain sticks, or even concealer. From that point on, Babe wrestled themselves into floor-length bottoms and long-sleeves up until high school graduation.

They’ve struggled falling asleep at night, trying to view this anomaly as a “gift”. Nobody else they’ve come across has poorly drawn Star Trek characters or names of midwest emo bands littering their epidermis like a composition notebook. Not to mention the person distributing these excerpts of their life–who are they? Do they know they’re capable of something like this? Do they even know Babe exists, and ponders the consequences of this condition in their life, and cries at the reminder that they can never purchase that crop top on sale or be stared at walking down the beach with a sweatshirt on?

Babe is broken out of their spiraling thoughts by Madelyn’s request to fetch the mail from the lobby. They didn’t catch the particular reason, but their ears perked up at the words “big check we need to run.” Babe feels invisible strings urging their eyes to roll and fights them, seizing the pair of gloves and bustling towards the nearest elevator. Once upon a time, Babe would take any excuse to waltz down the seventeen flights of stairs to dilly dally. But that was before their thoughts became consumed with dying of heat stroke between concrete walls and cotton layers.

Babe finds solace in the empty elevator, and decides to savor the feeling of bare hands in every way imaginable by cracking their knuckles, reaching them up to the fluorescent lights of the lift and drenching their skin in the gleam. In seconds, they become clenched fists, clammy and unresponsive at the sound of quickly approaching steps and voice growing in volume.

“Look, I know I left the stove on. I’m sorry, buddy. It was just a little flare up...” In a panic, Babe reaches forward to jab the button to close the doors, and halts at the sight of their hand, covered in more scribbles than before. They reduce themself into the corner, hastily cloaking their hands with the gloves. Amidst putting on the second one, the voice introduces its body in the picture as it squeezes through the elevator doors right before they shut. His phone is situated between his ear and shoulder, as he shuffles through the large stack of paperwork between his hands.

His hands…

Look just like…

“Bye buddy, love you!” His blonde hair swishes against his forehead as he cranes his neck down to end the call. “He’s really trying to turn me into that guy who’s being super loud on their phone in the elevator.” While pocketing his phone, Babe’s eyes follow his hands, scribbled in black. He retrieves a pen from behind his ear, uncaps it with his mouth and lets the ballpoint make contact with his skin before he begins writing. Babe feels the familiar tickle, but is too in shock to respond. Halfway through his latest entry, he shakes the pen violently with a grunt. “Damn, this thing’s getting low on ink.”

Through his peripheral vision, the blonde peeks over at the second set of hands in the elevator, and notices some writing peeking out from the half-worn glove overtaking Babe’s left hand. “Another avid notetaker, I see. My friends can’t stand it when I write on my skin. They say it's a one way trip to ink poisoning. But it’s saving the trees, right?” Again, the nervous chuckle floats through the space, and then awkward silence. Babe’s lips remain parted in awe, too caught up in the current revelation to grab hold of anything as the elevator’s motor stutters and comes to a sudden halt. Before they could tumble to the floor, his coated hands caught them amidst their teetering. Blue eyes pooling with an intimidating level of concern, stare them down.

“Aw man, I think the elevator got stuck. Hey, are you alright?” The eyes flicker down, and the man appears to harbor the same revelation as Babe when he further inspects the writing on their hand. At least, they thought…

“No way! You like Star Trek too?”

soulmate september schedule | main masterlist | abt author

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Three

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: Have another one because I can’t stand not posting chapters when I have them written. Thanks for all the love, seriously! Absolutely insane that this has blown up so fast. I’ve written 30k in a week. God damn. 

Word Count: 7.7k+

Chapter Three

“Fast and painless, right?” you said, looking at Roy. The two of you stood at the end of the red carpet, before the entrance to the charity ball. Paparazzi yelled at players on the carpet, snapping pictures incessantly.

“That’s the plan. I’ve been doing this for too fucking long. Trust me,” he replied, and just for that brief moment, you found that you trusted Roy Kent wholeheartedly. He stuck his arm out for you. “Come on.”

You laid your hand on his forearm, slinking it together with his own, until you were secure. Roy peered down at you subtly, just for a second, before he started walking. You had no choice but to follow him and match his pace. The two of you booked it down the red carpet, ignoring the sudden flashes of cameras, and the way they were practically begging Roy for a photo.

“No, no, no, no,” he whittled off, and when that didn’t work, he transitioned to, “Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off!”

Inside, it was much more subdued. You were thankful for Roy’s support beforehand, even if you felt so fucking silly now that you’d made it. People mingled happily, shaking each other’s hands in introduction. It was easier than you expected. You sat at a table with the guys, alongside Ted and Keeley. Roy placed two beers in front of you, before he dropped down into the seat next to yours with a sigh.

“Made it in one piece,” he said, picking up a beer and bringing it to his lips.

“I’ll definitely be using that method in future,” you replied.

“What, when you become a professional footballer?”

You scoffed. “Exactly.”

You all quietened when Rebecca took the stage. She looked positively frazzled, but you couldn’t deny that she still held such a presence over a room. You admired her, truthfully. Taking over the football club, ignoring whatever shit the tabloids wrote about her, still taking charge where she could.

As she welcomed everyone to the charity ball, a sinking feeling hit your gut in the form of a man in a white fucking suit. He waltzed into the room like he owned it, whispered hello’s to people who recognised him. Suddenly, it was as if no one was listening to Rebecca, instead replacing their gazes onto the man in white, who chose to stand directly in the centre of the room.

“Rebecca, darling!” he announced suddenly, and that’s when your face soured.

Rebecca stopped, frozen. “Rupert,” she said, gobsmacked.

As they kept up their back and forth, you leaned closer to Roy. He shot you a side-eyed glance, taking in the utter confusion on your face. “Who the fuck is that?” you asked him in a whisper.

“Fucking hell,” Roy whispered in reply. “You don’t even know who that is?”

You shrugged, catching his eye. “I told you, I know fuck all.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Roy let out. “That’s Rupert bloody Mannion. Ex-owner of Richmond, and–”

“Rebecca’s ex-husband,” you finished his sentence, before grimacing to oblivion. You’d never seen his face until now, and you silently thanked some god out there that you hadn’t. “I think he’s the biggest sleaze I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Roy choked on his drink loudly, alerting the room to his presence suddenly. Rupert stopped gabbing over Rebecca’s speech to look at his old team Captain, and let out a sickening chuckle. You elbowed Roy in his ribs abruptly, and he looked up instantly.

“Is that Roy Kent?” Rupert asked, projecting his voice around the room. He spread his arms out in welcome. “Oh, how good it is to see your face! And the rest of you boys, too.” He addressed the rest of the table, strolling closer to all of you.

The guys stayed where they were, silent and glued to their seats. You, however, wished you could leave immediately.

“I swear, Roy,” you whispered frantically, as Rupert continued to approach. “If this man so much as looks at me I’m going to whack him in the–”

“And do my eyes deceive me, Roy, or is that a lovely lady that you’ve brought with you?” Rupert continued. You wanted to vomit.

Quickly, you looked to Rebecca on stage. She was utterly frozen, dealing with both the shock and anger of having Rupert arrive out of the blue, only to upstage her in the middle of her welcome speech. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Rupert was a narcissistic piece of shit, just from one bloody look. You’d been around men enough to spot a red flag in a sea of blue and red Richmond shirts.

Roy straightened himself out, as Rupert placed his hand on the top of his chair. He peered down at the pair of you, smiling in a way that could only be described as utterly disgusting.

“Rupert,” Roy said plainly, ignoring his prior question. You kept your eyes forward, ignoring the sickening look that Rupert was flicking between yourself and Roy.

“Nice to see you again, Captain.” He slammed his hand down on Roy’s shoulder once, before he went back to addressing the entire room.

You let out a pent up breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding. Beside you, Roy relaxed back into his seat the further Rupert walked from your table. At the same time, the both of you reached for your beers. You both downed the remainder of your bottles, dropping them, utterly empty, back onto the tabletop afterwards.

“Another beer?” Roy asked, and you got his message immediately. He was saying let’s get the fuck out of here.

“Please.” You stood immediately, not giving a shit when you sauntered past Rupert, with Roy on your tail.

The two of you stayed at the bar until things had died down, which by all accounts, was a long fucking time. The room had gone back to its normal level of stardom, and Rebecca had managed to finish the rest of her welcome address. A few empty bottles covered the bar where you and Roy stood, gabbing away as if you were at the fucking pub, instead of at a prestigious charity event.

You clutched your fingers over your mouth, trying to hold in a colossal laugh. In front of you, Roy kept digging deeper into the story he was telling you, and it was only making it worse. You were laughing so hard that you were sure you’d burst, and when you got a few seconds of peace to glimpse at him, you were happy to see the smallest curl of a smile on his lips, too. You’d been talking about boy bands for an hour and found yourself thinking– if it stayed like this for the rest of the night, then you’d be happy.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you burst finally, letting the last of your agonising chuckles trickle from your mouth. You clutched your middle, feeling the welcomed pain of too much laughter. “I used to be a massive fan of them growing up, you know?”

“One Direction?” Roy questioned, almost like he was offended, until he skidded his eyes down you quickly. “Oh, well, that makes sense. You were a teenage girl at one point, surely?”

You scoffed, actually offended. “What do you mean surely?” you let out. “Incase you forgot already, Roy, I do happen to be a woman.”

“No fucking waaaay,” he breathed out, faking amazement. “That’s insane.”

A few trickles of laughter erupted between the two of you, but were abruptly cut off by a flustered Rebecca. She bombarded towards the bar, as if on a warpath. “The auction is in a minute, Roy. Back to your seats,” she directed, leaving both of you with a scolded look upon your faces.

“The auction?” you asked. “I had no idea you were such an… art curator.”

Roy picked up two new beer bottles, as the two of you started heading back to your table. “It’s not a bloody art auction.”

“What kind of auction is it, then?”

As if on cue, Rupert emerged onto the stage to a round of applause from the audience. You couldn’t help your scowl, but you perked up when you saw Jamie follow him onto the stage. “Now, now, it’s time for the best event of the night– the auction! And first up, we have none other than Richmond striker, number nine, Jamie Tartt!” Rupert announced, and your quizzical look turned into full on disgust.

As you and Roy sat back down, you erupted. “Are you fucking kidding me? They’re auctioning off you guys?”

“It’s a tradition,” Keeley said, though she didn’t look any more impressed as you.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just when someone says charity that doesn’t usually bring trafficking to mind.” You leaned back in your chair and crossed your legs. Roy handed you a beer, but you were so annoyed that you didn’t even think to thank him.

“Shall we start the bidding off at one thousand pounds?” Rupert continued, and an all-out bidding war began– just not with Keeley.

For a moment, it was only an older woman who was interested, but when a different woman- younger, blonder, fitter– got involved, Keeley could barely contain her anger. She cleared her throat, looking at you sternly. “Not fucking today,” she said, before she raised her own paddle. “Five thousand pounds!” she bid.

“Eight thousand!” the blonde behind her said, and all it did was piss Keeley off further.

“Ten!” Keeley said.

“Eleven,” the other woman said.

It was constant, and as stressful as it was sat next to Keeley herself, Jamie was lapping up the fight for himself on stage. He stuck his tongue out arrogantly, taking in the bidding war with nothing less than the smile that he wore on the pitch, right after scoring a goal.

“This is vile,” you commented, and Roy perked his brow at you.

“Even worse when you think about her,” Roy added, pointing to the older woman who had been adamant to snag Jamie for herself. “She wins me every year, and each date has been worse than the fucking last. I had to leave her on the street in Hammersmith last time, ‘cause she’d booked us a cab to go back to hers for dessert.”

You grimaced. “You’re footballers, not fucking escorts.” For a second, Roy casually contemplated a career as an escort. He shrugged, almost like he didn’t mind. You scowled immediately. “I hate this.”

When Jamie’s bidding war finally ended, going to Keeley for a steep fifteen thousand, Roy readied himself to go on stage. He did up the middle button of his jacket and cleared his throat, before he stood. You had the strangest urge to protest, to stand up and say that this was all fucking weird, but you kept your mouth shut.

When Jamie returned to the table, Keeley was sharp with him. The blonde sat behind you had obviously got to her, and for good reason. You didn’t know the extent of Keeley and Jamie’s relationship, but you knew them individually, and that was enough to know that Keeley definitely deserved more. You could appreciate his talent, his skill, his work ethic, but the way Jamie Tartt treated people didn’t match up.

You peered back at the older woman; she licked her lips as Roy made his way onstage. It made you feel somewhere between sick and angry. “Next up is Richmond’s Captain, number six, you all know and love him– Roy Kent!” Rupert announced, and Roy reluctantly took the stage.

“God, don’t let her bloody win,” you muttered, and Keeley let out a small laugh beside you.

“She’s always on a rampage,” she said, smiling, but you saw a glint in her eyes– she was hurt, and Jamie had done fuck all to make her feel any better.

“Shall we start the bidding off at–?”

“Five thousand pounds!” the older woman interrupted Rupert, booming her shrill voice over the room.

Onstage, Roy mouthed fucks sake. On Keeley’s other side, Jamie started laughing. You wanted to whack him because of his overly obnoxious behaviour, but instead settled on rolling your eyes. Keeley froze next to you, and you felt like something was brewing within her.

“Five thousand going once,” Rupert said. “Going twice!”

“Six thousand!” Keeley erupted suddenly, and you snapped your gaze onto her.

You weren’t naive. As Keeley and the older woman got into another bidding war, you knew exactly why she was getting involved with Roy’s auction. It was to piss off Jamie. She wanted to spite him by bidding on Roy– his obvious fucking enemy. You let out a silent groan, sending up a prayer to whoever was listening for this shit to end. It was like you’d been sat at a table for secondary school kids instead of professional athletes.

“Eight thousand!” the older woman said.

“Ten thousand pounds!” Keeley yelled louder, and that was your last straw.

Quickly, you grabbed her by her bicep. “Keeley,” you whispered harshly. “Stop it. This is childish. And this isn’t fucking fair on Roy.”

Keeley turned to you, looking thoroughly chastised. It took her a moment, but when she breathed out, you saw her true nature return. “Yeah,” she said sullenly. “You’re right.” She sighed, and put her paddle down. Sending an angry look at Jamie, she got up and left the table.

“Eleven thousand!” the older woman countered.

Rupert perked his brow. “Oh? Is that it, then? Eleven thousand going once…”

You peered over at Jamie, who didn’t look happy at all. The atmosphere on the table had dropped significantly, but you were just glad that it was almost over.

“Eleven thousand going twice!” Rupert continued, and you looked towards Roy onstage.

He caught your eye as you looked towards him, and there was something that switched within you. Almost instantly, you held the determination of your whole table– all of whom were tired of being paraded around and bought, even if it was for fucking charity. You weren’t going to let the old bat win another year in a row.

You stood up quickly, grabbing your paddle and raising it to the sky. “Twelve thousand pounds!”

Rupert’s grin was practically off the charts. “Oh, we have a new bidder! Twelve thousand for the Richmond Captain!”

“Thirteen thousand!” the oldie hit back.

“Fourteen!” You peered back at her, shooting her a death stare.

“Fifteen!”

“Sixteen!”

She stood up, her knees creaking as she did so. “Eighteen thousand!”

“Eighteen thousand for Richmond’s Captain!” Rupert exclaimed over the mic.

You hesitated just for a moment, before taking another look at Roy. He must know you didn’t actually have eighteen fucking grand to give away. He must know that you were only doing this to save him from another god awful date with that geriatric nymphomaniac.

You smacked your hand on the tabletop suddenly, scaring Jamie out of his skin. “Twenty-five thousand!” you practically screamed it, and in response garnered a huge round of applause and cheers from the other guests.

“Twenty-five going once!” Rupert said, and the oldie behind you finally started to falter. “Going twice!” he added, as tension stuck itself to every corner of the fucking room. “Gone!”

The crowds erupted even further, with a few actually coming up to shake you by the hand afterwards. Rupert’s laughter reverberated around the entire hall, and when you looked at Roy, you were happy to see relief all over his face.

Rupert whacked a hand down on Roy’s shoulder. “Well, well, well, Mr. Kent,” he began. “It seems to me that you’ve found yourself a real keeper.”

As the hall died down to a better level, Roy returned to the table. Ted and Rebecca had disappeared off somewhere, and you were biting back the adrenaline that coursed throughout your whole body. You could see now why people got hooked on gambling.

Roy sank into the seat next to yours, picked up his beer and downed the contents. When he put the empty bottle back on the table, he leaned closer to you. “I’m assuming that I’m forking up twenty-five grand, right?”

“Yep,” you said immediately. You gulped back your own beer, copying him by placing your empty bottle next to his.

“Another beer?” he asked, and you sent him a surprised look. You’d just forced him into giving up twenty-five grand, all to avoid a bad date, and he didn’t seem angry in any way.

“Why aren’t you pissed at me?” you asked.

Roy draped his arm over the back of your chair and crossed his legs comfortably. He leaned towards you, looking so relaxed now that you wouldn’t have been able to recognise the man he was on stage. “Do you want me to be pissed?”

“No,” you said, crossing your arms. “I was just wondering why not.”

“Because you just saved my fucking skin, that’s why,” Roy said.

“Yeah, and lost you twenty-five fucking grand, Roy,” you whispered harshly.

Roy scoffed. “I’m a fucking footballer.”

You shrugged. “Fair enough.” The two of you rose together, headed for the bar again, leaving Jamie and Keeley to their awkward silence.

The rest of the evening seemed to run smoothly, until the abrupt announcement that Robbie Williams was sadly not performing. You frowned from the bar, while Roy silently rejoiced by downing another beer. The atmosphere had mellowed to something you were better suited for, but that all went to shit when Jamie approached the bar. Keeley was nowhere to be found, but the immediate daggers that shot between Jamie and Roy were more than noticeable.

You tapped your nails against your beer bottle, waiting for either of them to speak first. It seemed to be a running theme, you noticed, that Jamie and Roy fucking hated one another. You could understand why– Jamie was overly arrogant, on and off the pitch. Roy had dealt with all kinds of people throughout his career, and simply didn’t have the tether to put up with them anymore.

“So,” Jamie broke the silence. “Twenty-five grand.”

Roy growled in reply. You took that as the perfect time to leave them to it. You headed to the bathroom, just from the sheer lack of where else to fucking go. You weren’t in the mood to mingle in the main hall, too afraid that Rupert would do the rounds once more. Opening the door to the bathrooms, you immediately found Rebecca and Keeley by the sinks.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Sorry. I was wondering where you’d both gone off to.”

Keeley turned to you first, and you instantly knew something was wrong. One glance at Rebecca confirmed the fact– something had definitely happened. “What’s wrong?” You placed a gentle hand on Keeley’s shoulder. “Jamie?” Keeley nodded sullenly. “You deserve more, Keeley. So much more.”

She smiled at you sadly, but there was a finality within her glistening eyes. She looked almost relieved, even though she hadn’t pulled the bandaid off yet. Secretly, you knew this would be a reality call for Jamie, too. Just because he was young and successful didn’t give him the right to treat others like dirt. Outside at the bar, you hoped Roy was saying the same, just not in a way that would start a fucking fight between them.

You headed to a stall, but stopped before you could shut the door. “For the record,” you said, turning back to the ladies. “Rebecca, you deserve more, too.” Rebecca’s face softened into something warm. “Even looking at Rupert made me feel like I needed to take a fucking shower.” Rebecca scoffed abruptly. She raised her martini to you, and you finally shut the stall door.

You had always been good at Irish goodbyes. It was one of your top skills, and had a close to one hundred percent success rate. At an event like this, you didn’t doubt it would also work wonders. After the bathroom, you glanced at the bar to find it empty of any footballers. That was a good enough cue to finally call it a night.

You left the venue, only to be hit by a crisp Richmond breeze. Immediately, you regretted not bringing a jacket. You knew it was a matter of time before it came to bite you in the arse, but you hadn’t been thinking before you’d jumped into Roy’s Jeep earlier. Another breeze rushed past you, making goosebumps prickle against your skin. “Fuuucking hell,” you muttered, descending the steps outside and trying to remember the way home.

You stood on the pavement, looking left and right, trying to gauge where in Richmond you actually were. Your bare arms shook as another breeze hit you, but they were relieved when something warm draped over them without warning.

Peering behind you, you caught the sight of Roy’s strong jawline. He finished draping his jacket over you, before he stuck his hands in his pockets and stood next to you.

“You just ruined it,” you let out, sighing. “I was trying to sneak out without anyone noticing.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “You fucking failed, then. And, by the looks of it, would have frozen to death on the fucking spot if it weren’t for me.”

“And I saved you from a borderline unethical date with a geriatric millionaire, who only wanted to jump your fucking bones,” you hit back with.

“Yeah, you did,” Roy acknowledged. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

You shrugged. “I figured it was better me, over her or Keeley.”

“You can fucking say that again.” Roy scuffed his feet on the pavement.

“I told her to knock it off,” you said. “It’s not fun when you get unwillingly involved in someone else’s relationship problems.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience, there.” Roy peered down at you questioningly.

You scoffed, looking back at him playfully. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Oh, really? Care to tell me on the walk home?” he asked, sneaking in a quick ask about walking home together in the process.

A wall of caution sprung up within you. It dawned on you then that you’d spent the entire evening with Roy, tied at the fucking hip. He’d bought all your drinks, comforted you before arriving, driven you here, and was the very reason you’d been invited in the first place. Sure, you were a bit drunk, but not too drunk to realise that this wasn’t exactly casual.

You felt like you knew Roy well enough to know he wasn’t anything but decent, but he was also a professional footballer. His face was present in tabloids twice a week, with stories ranging from women, to messy nights out that people had somehow photographed without him knowing. There was a fine line between colleagues and friends, and an even finer line between colleagues and whoops, we just fell into bed together, didn’t we? You didn’t want to cross that line to oblivion.

That’s what you kept in mind as the two of you stumbled home. Roy’s jacket did make a world of difference, and when you slotted your arms through the sleeves they went past your fingertips. The two of you navigated Richmond neighbourhoods, commenting on the big fucking houses down Roy’s road.

“That one is far too bougie,” you said, pointing at a mansion that was entirely glass-fronted. “It’s literally a stalker's dream. From a high up window you’d be able to see every fucking thing that went on inside.”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience about that, too,” Roy said, smiling at his own dig subtly.

“Oh, you caught me,” you said, melodramatically clutching a hand to your chest. “I’m Richmond’s biggest mansion stalker. I see a house made completely from glass and orgasm on the spot.”

Roy huffed through his nose, amused. “Who are your targets? Billionaires? Lawyers? Footballers?”

“Depends,” you said. “Is your house made completely out of glass?”

“Fuck no,” Roy said. “I do have a skylight above my bed, though.”

“Damn,” you said. “I’ll have to expand my stalking to drone footage, too.”

“Sounds like a good investment,” Roy added, before he peered down at you. You took a moment to look up at him, too, and shared a smile with one another. Inside your head, you were screaming at yourself about the wall you’d erected earlier.

Roy stopped walking suddenly, and you let out a small squeak as you tried to stop at the same time as him. It was clear you’d both drunk a lot, but it was all in good fun. “This is me,” Roy said then, pointing to the house before you.

Your eyes widened immediately. Before you stood a huge house, decorated with bushes and a large blossom tree out front. You felt the absence of his Jeep in the driveway, but it allowed for you to see the massive front door– made from solid oak, with a shining knocker right in the centre. It was easily three storeys high, and through one of the large windows, you caught a glimpse of a framed football shirt. This was definitely Roy Kent’s house.

“Fuck me,” you said involuntarily. Roy actually scoffed, which was a different kind of shock entirely. “You weren’t kidding about it being one of the big, fuck off houses, then.”

“Why would I lie about having a great fucking house?”

“No, no. I’m not judging here,” you said, keeping your gaze on the building before you. “You’re right. That’s a great fucking house.”

There was a moment of silence that settled over the two of you, only made more intense by the light of the moon, and the utter lack of stars that graced the sky in London. You sucked in a deep breath as you looked back at Roy, only to find his gaze on you already. You smiled, he smiled back subtly, and your gut lurched within you.

Roy shuffled on his spot, before clearing his throat. “Wanna come in for a drink?”

There was a feeling that descended upon you, one that was not at all mature and one hundred percent giddy. You’d been in this position multiple times, but with Roy it felt different. He was your work colleague, for starters, and that wall that you’d forced yourself to build was still erected, as much as a part of you was trying to knock it down with a fucking sledgehammer.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s waaay past ten-thirty,” you let out.

“Ah,” Roy said, catching on immediately. “I forgot you were a boring uni student.”

“Boring masters student. But, yes.” You took a small step back, fully cementing that you wouldn’t be joining him for another drink this evening. “Another time,” you added, simply because you wanted to grab a drink with Roy in future. You didn’t want to ward him off, or make him feel like you were rejecting him, as much as that would be okay, too.

Roy shot you an expression he’d never shown you before. It wasn’t blunt, so to say, but it wasn’t sweet, either. It was some form of middle ground. It told you that he understood, but also reassured you that this wasn’t a big deal. It was crazy how much of an expression interpreter you became when you weren’t bloody sober.

“Another time,” Roy repeated after a moment. Gently, you started taking off his jacket, but he waved at you in dismissal. “Keep it for the walk home,” he said.

You huffed at him, but did as you were told. “Thank you,” you let out.

Roy nodded, as you took another step back. “See you on Monday?” you asked rhetorically.

“See you on Monday,” he confirmed.

You took another step back, almost stumbling into the road. Roy lurched forward quickly, just in case he needed to grab you and stop you from falling flat on your face, but you stabilised yourself. Flustered, you let out a breathy chuckle. Laughter echoed down his fancy as fuck road, before disappearing into the crisp night.

You sent one final smile Roy’s way, before you finally swivelled on your heels, headed for your road a bit further down. Roy slowly stepped towards his front door, keeping a watchful eye on you as you tread further down the road.

“Goodnight,” he let out, raising his voice a bit to reach you down the street.

You turned back to him, walking backwards for a few paces. “Goodnight!” you replied, waving your arm wildly in the air at him.

When you faced forward again, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Nothing would come from this, you told yourself, but it didn’t stop it from feeling nice. Having a genuinely pleasant night with someone that you’d never– in a million fucking years– thought you’d gel with, was oddly fulfilling. When you thought back to the month before, it made you want to cackle maniacally to yourself. It was funny, wasn’t it? How things could change so fast, how they could evolve into you having a really great fucking evening with someone you previously couldn’t stand to be around, let alone talk to.

You pulled off your shoes when you arrived home, ready to utterly collapse into bed. Your phone dinged in your clutch before you could. You picked it up, utterly surprised to see a text from Roy waiting for you.

Get home safe.

You replied simply.

I did.

Roy replied instantly.

Good.

You thought that would be it, dropping your phone onto your bed as you went to strip off your clothes. Heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed, you shut the door behind you. Roy texted you again, one that you wouldn’t see until you woke up in the morning.

Sleep well.

A week later, as you sat in the owners box next to Keeley and Rebecca, your heart was in your throat. As Ted bombarded down the steps back to the field, you were in the same boat as everyone in wondering why– Ted had decided to bench Jamie Tartt for the rest of the game, despite him scoring a goal for Richmond not two minutes before.

Rebecca looked slightly shaken, but there was also an underlying happiness to her mood. You noticed that she acted odd, sometimes. Such as when Richmond were doing well, she would join in with fake enthusiasm. When they were doing terribly, it was customary to find her with a smile stamped all over her face. It was the same one she showed now, as Ted made a show of benching Jamie, and the home crowd at the Dogtrack exploded.

Jamie Tartt was pissed off. He was seething as he went to sit down, and went as far as kicking one of the chairs for the rest of the team reserves. You winced when you saw it, alongside hundreds of other fans, but that’s when you chose to look over to Roy.

He was on the pitch with his hands on his hips, and an oddly calm expression stamped on his face. Within you, you silently relaxed. You knew that if Roy wasn’t freaking out, then he understood Lasso’s reasons for what he’d done. You leaned back in your seat casually, causing a flustered Keeley to peer at you.

“What are you so bloody relaxed for? Jamie’s going to burn this place to the fucking ground.” She turned back to the pitch, watching the remaining two minutes of extra time before half time. Despite breaking up with the ace at the charity ball, Keeley still knew Jamie through and through.

You leaned forward and pointed to the pitch. “There,” you said, and Keeley followed your finger. “Look at Roy. He’s the calmest I’ve ever seen him on the pitch.”

“Yeah, because his arch nemesis has just been benched,” Keeley said.

“No, no. As much as Roy hates him, I know he’d be equally as fucked off and confused if Lasso had pulled Jamie for no reason. But, look, he’s absolutely fine.”

Keeley turned to you. “So, you think it was the right decision?”

You shrugged. “I don’t fucking know. All that I know is that, when I’m confused, I look at Roy’s reaction. I go with whatever emotion he’s sending into the void, and somehow it all just works out fine.”

Keeley leaned back slightly, looking at you in confusion. “It’s like you guys are telepathic, or something.” She snapped her head towards Roy again. “That’s fucking amazing.”

Over the next few weeks, things start feeling like home to you. Two months down the line and it was as if you’d known the guys for years. It was normal for you to join them for team nights out, and normal for them to poke their heads around your office door from time to time. Every time you passed the gym, or the locker room, or the pitch, there would always be at least one lad who spotted you. He’d wave, and that would alert everyone else to your presence, until all of them had waved at you in greeting.

Roy was the same, but in his own way. Since the charity ball, it was clear that there was something there, no matter how small. There was a shared understanding between the two of you that was larger than what you had with the rest of the team. You couldn’t explain it, not even when you dedicated time to try and work out what it was.

You still had his jacket at home, up on the peg by your door, just waiting to be returned. There was something that halted you from dropping it around to him, however, and Roy hadn’t brought it up since the month before, either. There was some unspoken thing about it, you felt, that travelled back to when you’d both said another time.

Maybe that was it, hm? When that inevitable another time happened, you’d return the jacket then. But for now, it offered you a gentle reminder of Roy fucking Kent everytime you entered or left your flat. It was odd to think about it, but you saw everyone at Richmond most days of the week. Weekends were reserved for friends and family, naturally, but on a dull Saturday night you often found yourself with the urge to call one of the guys and see what they were up to.

Was this what having attachment issues felt like? You fucking hoped not.

Jamie had been off with everyone since Ted benched him. He was ruder, and more disrespectful, often showing up late for practice or leaving early without warning. To the team, he was still arrogant and self-serving; even more so towards Roy. Ted’s attempts at laying a stable groundwork with Tartt hadn’t seemed to stick, and everyone had been feeling it.

That was made worse by the arrival of a new striker by the name of Dani Rojas. Jamie had already been pushed into the proverbial corner, and when Dani showed off his moves on the pitch for the first time, it was clear that they were on par with each other. You spent those first few days confined to your office, trying to avoid the lot of them and miss being within firing range of Tartt’s next tantrum.

Later on, after Jamie ditched another practice session, you checked your inbox to find an intriguing email. It was forwarded from the university, but originally from the Independent. You read it silently, and after you were done, you immediately went to find Keeley. Rebecca had recently set her up with a job doing PR for the club, which made your life exponentially easier. She was better at social media, at getting brand deals and the like. You were a writer, not a publicist. You entered the press room and found her sitting at her temporary desk.

She turned to you and smiled. “Hey, babe,” she said sweetly. “You okay?”

You sighed, taking a seat opposite her, on the front row. “The Independent is running a competition for all MA students in London. Writers, journalists, sports students, all of that,” you explained. “If we write an article about a sportsman or woman, it could get published in the paper, on the front page of the sports section.” You dragged your hands down your face when you’d finished, and Keeley let out a huff at her desk.

“Babes, that’s an amazing opportunity!” she exclaimed.

“I know,” you whined, and dropped your hands into your lap.

Keeley straightened in her chair, looking at you softly. “Is there any reason why you don’t seem particularly excited about it?”

You peered at her, and it clicked instantly. She returned your stare with a knowing look, one that was warm and gentle, one that understood. After that, she furrowed her brows and sent you a soft smile. It wasn’t often that people could read you so easily, and when Keeley did it, it only made you feel more connected to her.

She let out a sigh. “There’s no harm in asking him.” Roy. She meant Roy.

“No,” you said immediately. “I said I wouldn’t ask him about any of this shit anymore, even if it is a great opportunity for me. You know how much he hates it,” you said. “I suppose I could do it about Ted, but Trent Crimm wrote a great article for him last month. And the boys, I mean– Richmond are always in the paper and the tabloids. I feel like I wouldn’t be adding to their stories.”

“That’s why you want to write about Roy,” Keeley stated.

You leant forward, finally bursting. “Yes! I do! Roy’s career has been explosive and intriguing and heart-warming. His Chelsea days were legendary, and the way he’s captained Richmond has been second to none. Why would anyone not want to write about him?”

Keeley stood up slowly, rounding her desk to sit in the chair next to you. Gently, she placed her hands over your knuckles. “Just ask him.”

“I don’t know how to,” you let out.

“Tell him the truth,” she said. “Say this is a great opportunity for you, and you can make it as painless as humanly possible for him.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to shadow him, or anything. I thought we’d go to the pub and talk for a few hours, really. It wasn’t going to be a proper interview.”

“That’s good,” Keeley said, squeezing your hands in approval. “Tell him that, too.”

“And if it all goes tits up?” you asked.

Keeley shrugged her shoulders, and let out a small laugh. “No one can know which way it’ll go with Roy. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you’re thinking right now, though.”

It was then that the anxious pit in your stomach started to clear. You looked at Keeley with your eyes large and glassy. You wondered if she knew all the thoughts that were rushing through your brain about you and Roy– how the main reason for not wanting to ask him was about not wanting to fuck up the friendship you’d both stumbled into. Especially after how things had started, you didn’t want it all to revert to that hostile environment.

“Babes,” Keeley whispered, leaning closer to you. “I don’t think you realise how likeable you are. The guys love you, and the coaches. Roy fits into that box, too.” Her reassuring words sunk into your skin, until you finally felt at ease. “And me, obviously,” she added quickly.

You huffed. “Thanks, Keeley,” you whispered. She draped her arms around you then, and you rested your head on her shoulder. Sometimes, a hug was all you needed to feel grounded.

You went back to your office to find another book from Sam, on your desk. He wrote small post-its for you and stuck them on the covers of each one he gave, and you secretly kept them all in the bottom drawer of your desk. You sat down and huffed to yourself, picking up his newest pick. The post-it read– Truthfully, this one did make me cry. Tell me if you do, too.

You stuck the post-it onto the pile of others in your bottom drawer, before you placed the book on a small shelf to your right. Shuffling in your bag, you found your next book for him. It was like clockwork, and you loved that this was something you’d started up with him. You left your office and headed for the gym, knowing it was time for the guys to do their second work-out of the day.

When you arrived, you sent a quick wave to all the guys, before seeking out Sam. He was on the bike, pumping his legs hard as he kept up his heart rate. You approached him, and draped your arms over the top of the stationary handle-bars. He smiled at you hugely, and you hovered the book out before him. “Fantastic,” he said softly, taking it from your grasp. “I was waiting for the day you would share your favourite classics with me.” It was a copy of The Great Gatsby.

“Am I that predictable?” you asked.

“Very,” Sam let out.

You huffed, amused. “Well, enjoy it. I look forward to reading yours, too.”

Sam clutched the book to his heart in thanks, before you swivelled on your heels and headed back towards the door. On the way, you noticed Roy on the treadmill, doing his normal incline walk. Keeley’s words surged within you, and you told yourself not to chicken out. Now was as good a time as any to ask. It would save you the time it took to worry beforehand.

You let out a deep breath, before walking towards him. He peered down at you, as you turned yourself round to face him, and leaned against the windowsill before him. He perked one of his black, bushy brows at you. “Can I help you?” he asked. There was a running theme between you. Most of your conversations started with that same question.

“The Independent is running a competition for MA students in London. It’ll result in one of us having an article published, and run on the first page of the sports section.” You laid it all out for him, expecting him to shut you down immediately, but he stayed silent. “I know how you feel about this sort of thing, which is why I’d never force you into doing this for me, again. But…” You looked up at him strongly, almost pleadingly. “This is a great opportunity for me, Roy. I can’t just write about anyone, either.”

“Why not?” he asked. His voice croaked, like he was struggling to get them out.

“Because.” You shuffled on your spot, something that you did when you knew you were being openly vulnerable. “I want to write about you.”

Roy looked to his feet, rhythmically stomping upon the treadmill beneath him. You could hear the cogs in his brain turning and whining, and you instantly felt guilty. You didn’t want to put him on the spot, and you’d seen what he could be like when he was. You half expected him to tell you to fuck off, but he didn’t. He just kept looking at his feet, walking to nowhere.

You inhaled deeply, taking matters into your own hands. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, and Roy looked at you once more. “I just thought I’d ask. This isn’t compulsory, so don’t worry.” You smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back. Instead, his mouth dropped open like he wanted to say something, but simply couldn’t get the words out. “See you around, Roy.”

You made to leave quickly, not wanting to stick around. Innately, you cursed at yourself for even asking in the first place. Keeley was right about it not doing any harm, but all it had done was make you feel bad.

“Hold it!” Roy boomed suddenly, and you turned back to him abruptly. The guys in the gym stopped working out, and you felt your stomach drop once more. Roy switched off the treadmill and jumped to the floor. “Just the one article?” he asked.

You nodded, gaining back some of your composure. “Only one.”

“How many people compete in this thing?” he asked.

“Um.” You wracked your brain, trying to figure out the average. “A few hundred, at least.”

“So, there’s a high probability that you won’t win,” Roy said, and you widened your eyes. He didn’t mean it offensively, but it still stung a bit.

“Yes. Very high probability, actually,” you said smally, feeling a tad embarrassed now that he’d explained it that way.

Roy looked at the ground, before he caught your eye strongly. “Okay. I’ll do it.” You sucked in a sharp breath.

“Really?” you asked, taking a few steps towards him.

He nodded, letting out a small growl. You let out an excited squeal, before you rushed at him. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an impromptu hug, muttering thank you over and over again. To the rest of the guys, all they saw was the shocked expression on Roy’s face, and the way his arms were tense at his sides from surprise. He didn’t know what to do with himself, didn’t know whether to wrap his arms around you in response. You pulled away too fast for him to come to a conclusion, and he peered down at you as you started towards the door again.

In the door frame, you turned back to him one last time. “Seriously, Roy,” you let out. “Thank you.” You tried to fit as much genuine feeling within your words as you possibly could.

Roy’s face softened subtly. You sent a final smile at him, before you left and headed back to your office. The gym stayed awkwardly silent as the guys laid their eyes over a statuesque Roy. He balled his fists when it all got to be too much, and let out a guff “Fucking get back to work!” to break open the tension.

The lads restarted their work-outs immediately, acting as if nothing had happened whatsoever. Roy jumped back onto the treadmill and started his walk once more. Through the window in front of him, he saw the open door to your office. If he moved slightly to the left, he could catch a glimpse of you, sitting at your desk, writing frantically on your laptop– utterly beaming.  

CHAPTER FOUR

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @royalestrellas​ @weakmoony-stuff​ @ironmanmagnetfridge​ @lemonpiegurll​ @hellomagicalsouls​ @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld​ @old-enough-to-know-better73​ @djarindroid​ @afraidofshrimp​ @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses​ @sogoodtoheritsvicious​ @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke​ @onceuponaoneshot​ @jamieolivia27​

[errornonamegiven]

Introducing: All For 12 Days

A fan event dedicated to All For One to spice up this holiday season!

All For One needs some Christmas cheer this season and what better way to invite the holidays in than to kick it off with an event!

Event Details

As stated in the intro, this event is All For One centric!

This is an event, NOT a contest. There will be no winners selected; this is just for funsies you can participate if you would like.

The event will run from December 1 to December 31.

Can submit art or writings or both! You can submit as many works as your heart desires.

Rules

All works must center around All For One. These are his holiday gifts, after all.

Christmas (the holiday itself) does not need to be a main theme, but winter themes (snowy landscapes, cold weather, hot cocoa, etc. etc.) are preferred.

No explicit content will be allowed. Gore is allowed, but please appropriately tag your works. All other NSFW content will not be allowed.

Shipping is allowed, however, any and all underage, incestuous, or nonconsensual pairings will not be allowed.

AI is not allowed.

A minimum of at least 200 words for written submissions.

The event will officially start at 12:00 AM (UTC) on December 1 and end at 11:59 PM (UTC) on December 31.

Submissions

To submit your work, just @ me and tag it as your All For 12 Days entry. Can also send it straight to my inbox if you prefer. Writers, if you would like to post on AO3 as well feel free to, please just give me a link so I can view your work.

Final Gab

I think that covers just about everything. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask!

And just as a heads up I will be posting some prompts for you guys to use. It's not required, I just want to give you guys some ideas that you are more than welcome to use!

And finally, huge thank you to @fractiflos for helping me come up with the name of this event! Am very excited to see how this all turns out and can’t wait to see all your guys lovely submissions! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[midnight-mourning]

Hii!! I read your fic on ao3 its absolitely gripping!! I adore the way Sun and Moon are written, and I'm gettinf attached to the human characters (a rarity), specifically Bri, Y/N, and Dave (He's weird and needs to learn boundaries and I love watching him fail miserably at stuff). Monty is such a sweet heart so far, omgg,,,, Wait don't get me started on Michael, he's just a guy! a guy woth problems but still!!

Ahhhh I look forward to wherever you take the story next Author! I'll make sure to ramble about it to my family at least twice (they tune me out now but still!! I might convince my sister to read who knows)

Ahhhhhh this is so sweet thank you!!!!

I've said it many times before but I really do just try my best with writing the boys and I'm glad it works out haha

As for the human characters, that is also so kind thank you!! I know there's a lot of side characters (esp for an x reader fic lol) so I'm glad they've left a good impression (minus David but I agree watching him be miserable is a treat)

For Y/N I was also pretty nervous bc I know some people are iffy about 'giving your reader insert character a personality' so again, I'm glad ^-^

Monty and Michael are two that I've also really enjoyed writing bc of how I've planned out their stories (same goes for the others lol but you get the point) and I'm excited to get to them in more detail

Also AHHHHH that is like??? so flattering and sweet like you have no idea 😭😭

I'm also excited for where I take things next, we're coming up on some really, interesting things and gahh I wanna gab about it SO BAD but I'll hold my tongue for now, thank you for the lovely ask!!

[hellsfryingpan]

30dtsc - Day 1 - Lieblingsepisode

-> Das fleißige Lieschen

Nachdem ich jetzt schon ein paar Posts von anderen zu ihrer Lieblings-Spatort-Folge gelesen habe, dachte ich mir, ich verliere auch mal ein paar Worte zu "Das fleißige Lieschen".

Meiner Meinung nach ist die einzige Sünde dieser Folge, dass der Titel nicht ins Titelschema passt, aber das bin ich angesichts der Tatsache, dass es zum Zeitpunkt der ersten Folge noch kein Titelschema gab, gewillt zu verzeihen.

"Das fleißige Lieschen" hat es mir wirklich angetan. Von "Was bist du denn für'n Schlappschwanz?" bis hin zu "Vater ist aufgewacht" ist einfach jede Zeile Dialog in ihrer herrlich-hölzemännischen Art ikonisch und lebt mietfrei in meinem Kopf.

Außerdem liebe ich die Neben-/Krimiplotfiguren sehr. Die Hofers und ihre Kaputte-Dynastie-Vibes, besonders aber Konrad und Rosa, Schwarzer-wie-Weißer und seine etwas lächerliche, klischeebehaftete Art (das Mittelfingertattoo???) und allen voran natürlich Lida (they could never make me hate you). Und DfL ist die einzige Episode, in der wir Caro sehen! Bring back Caro 2025!

Am Ende der Folge kriege ich auch immer Gänsehaut, wenn Lidas Geschichte gezeigt wird und man Mytros Flehen im Hintergrund hört. Und natürlich auch, wenn der Spaten-reveal kommt. (Die Musik in der Szene ist auch so *chef's kiss*, wenn jemand da die Noten hat, immer her damit!)

Und dann gibt es einfach noch so viele andere Dinge, die mir so viel Freude bereiten, weil sie einfach auch so ein bisschen "was zur Hölle hat Hendrik sich dabei gedacht?" sind. Random beef mit dem Pförtner, my beloved. Nicht ganz so random beef mit Esther, der uns "Halt einfach mal deine Fresse" bescheert hat, Pias merkwürdige Kalendersprüche, die ganze Verhörszene mit Schwarzer-wie-Weißer (Schnatterentchen?, Rainer von der Steurfahndung? Da wird auf ganz hohem Niveau gearbeitet, ich sag's euch!).

DfL war nach "Kälte der Erde" die zweite Spatort-Folge, die ich gesehen habe, und auch die, die mich so richtig gehookt hat. Wie könnte sie nicht? Und deswegen wird sie einfach immer einen ganz besonderen Platz in meinem Herz haben.

-english version under the cut-

After having read a couple of posts by other people about their favourite spatort-episodes, I thought, I should lose a couple words about "Das fleißige Lieschen".

In my opinion, is the only sin this episode commits not fitting the title pattern, but I am willing to forgive the offense, by virtue of this episode most likely being written, before the title pattern even existed.

"Das fleißige Lieschen" really resonates with me. From "What kind of wimp are you?" to "Father woke up", every line of dialog is iconic in that delightfully-hölzemann way and lives rentfree in my head.

Furthermore, I love the side-/crime-plot-characters dearly. The Hofers and their broken-dynastie-vibes, but especially Konrad and Rosa, Schwarzer-like-Weißer and his slightly ridiculous, clichee-riddled state of being (the middle-finger-tattoo???) and above all Lida of course (they could never make me hate you). And DfL is the only episode where we see Caro! Bring back Caro 2025!

At the end of the episode I also always get goosebumps, when Lida's story is revealed and you hear her brother's pleas in the background. And of course, when the spade-reveal is happening (The music in that scene is also *chef's kiss", if anybody has the score, feel free to share them with me!)

And then there are still so many other things, that bring me so much joy, because they are also a little bit "what the hell was Hendrik thinking writing this?" Random beef with the doorman, my beloved, not nearly as random beef with Esther, which gave us one of the most iconic lines, Pias weird calendar sayings, the entire scene where they question Schwarzer-wie-Weißer (Schnatterentchen?, Rainer von der Steurfahndung? (no clue how to translate these. gadwall-duckie? Rainer from tax investigations?) They are working on the highest of levels, I'm telling you!)

DfL was after "Kälte der Erde" the second episode I watched and it was also the one that really got me hooked. How could it not be? And therefore, this episode will always have a special place in my heart.

[leeflagoon]

The meet-cute: Tiana x Nanami

Heyyy guys so this is the Tanami fic LMFAOOO. Uhhh this fic was written for a close friend that loves jjk. Gab on top fr!!! I don't know much about jjk but I will try my best!! I hope you guys like it!!

Tiana spent most, if not all, of her days working at Duke's Cafe. It was all to achieve her and her dad's dream, to buy that old sugar mill and make a restaurant. Tiana was well known across the city for her 'man catching' beignets, as Charlotte puts it. So well known, in fact, that she even started getting customers from outside New Orleans.

That includes Nanami, who adores sweets. He heard about a specific little cafe that sells amazing beignets, from a coworker who went on vacation.

What even is a beignet? New Orleans sounds like a nice trip, though.... Nanami thought to himself.

Unfortunately for Nanami, he unknowingly made the trip during Mardi Gras.

The bustling streets, bright colors, cars and floats and train cars passing through large crowds of partying people in the humid southern city was definitely not what Kento Nanami was prepared for.

Tiana is working hard on a Mardi Gras noon in Duke’s Cafe. She’s mainly focused on her work and juggling her tables’ orders when she notices a tall blonde man walk in and take off his glasses, waiting to be sat.

“Just sit anywhere and I’ll be right there with you, sir!” Tiana calls out as she carries a mountain of plates on her.

Suddenly Charlotte squeals and bursts into the soft atmosphere with sparkling excitement, clutching a newspaper and bouncing into a booth. Mr. LaBouff cheerily greets Tiana and sits down across from his estatic daughter.

"Tia! Tia! You'll never believe it!-" Charlotte starts with her excited rambling. Tiana listens as she walks toward the table Nanami is sitting at, serving him some coffee.

Nanami looks at his cup of coffee and the beautiful woman who served him, flowing through her work unbothered by the noise around her. She didn’t actually take his order, but he was going to ask for coffee anyway. Additionally, Nanami saw that the (mostly) graceful waitress was already working hard and decided not to make a problem of it.

Eventually Tiana did get to Nanami's table to take his order. Nanami didn't mind the wait, enjoying the atmosphere of the homey and friendly cafe.

"I'm so sorry sir, did you want to order anything?" Tiana hugged her notepad close to her apron, worried and intimidated by the stoic man.

Nanami notices Tiana's nervousness and puts on a soft smile to ease her stress, "I'll have an order of beignets, I heard they're very famous."

The pretty brown-skinned waitress smiled back at Nanami, causing him to blush just a little.

"They sure are. I'll make sure to get them to you right quick, sir!" Tiana's worries of a rude customer washed away.

My god this man is fiiine... Tiana thought to herself while striding away to tend to her other customers, a smirk coming across her face once she was out of Nanami's sight. This customer had a chiseled face and a stoic expression, making him look like a hot actor Tiana can't exactly put a name on. Nanami’s suit and sophisticated, tiny glasses made him look very elegant compared to the other customers in casual clothes; with the exception of Miss pink over there… (Charlotte)

Nanami's eyes follow Tiana as she talks to Charlotte, admiring the working girl. Tiana laughs for a moment after trading a few quick jokes with her, then goes off to serve other tables. Once the pretty waitress is done with that, Nanami sees Tiana walk over to the bakery section of the counter.

Tiana is in a flow now, taking out the warm, fluffy beignets that were in a warmer out onto the counter. Then she gets her two final ingredients. She swoops the honey onto the beignets as if she was waving a magic wand, then spins the whole tray and dances a little while topping the beignets with powdered sugar. Boom. Done. Tiana smirks while looking at her creation that smells so good.

Nanami watched all of this from his table, seeing how other customers are also looking at the beignets with anticipation.

She is really beautiful…. Nanami throught to himself as he tried to peel his eyes away from her in vain. A few of her tight black curls have fallen out of her messy ponytail, the collar of her dress was uneven and disheveled, and her dark brown skin glistened with a light sweat she was putting up; nonetheless, it’s undeniable how beautiful Tiana is. Nanami hides his expression—he hides it well—and looks at his newspaper to distract himself, but before he knew it, he was served his beignets! Unfortunately, Tiana was busy and a bus boy helped her out, so Nanami couldn’t speak to her again.

Nanami smiles with contentment as he takes a sip of his coffee before trying the beignets for the first time. He overheard the pink, princess-like lady growl about how the beignets were ‘man catching’, and he snickers a little.

If they do draw men in…I’m in for a long ride.. Nanami thinks to himself as he takes the first bite. His stoicness prevents him from making any real reaction, but in his head he is dancing, singing Wonder Girls, moaning, and in utter bliss over the amazing and fluffy taste of the beignets. Before he knows it one of the beignets were already eaten by him.

Fuck…I’m in love.. Nanami sighs and looks at Tiana, the woman who made these beignets. He even starts to drool a little before shaking his head to catch his composure.

After Tiana's shift Nanami decides to be bold and approach her. Tiana takes off her work apron and rubs her temples as she sees the blond hunk that she served start to approach her, getting a little anxious and giddy at the same time.

Oh my god he's tall, what does he want? Is he mad? Is he happy? Oh my god he's actually approaching me...hey sexy, my god.. Tiana's mind raced and geeked, like any girl would.

"..May I help you with something, sir?" Tiana asked while taking in the sight of the tall man.

Nanami builds up his confidence in his head and takes off his glasses, looking Tiana in the eye. "Excuse me, miss, but are you single?"

Tiana's lips curl into a smile, her dark complexion develops a pink blush across her face, and she tucks in a loose curl behind her ear. She looks up at Nanami before she answers his question.

[pixelatedraindrops]

About my Illness Whump Guilty Passion:

I really enjoy it ^-^

The only whump content I enjoy is illness whump. (no others) Why? Because content around it is usually super fluffy and wholesome. (plus anime characters specifically look really cute when they're sick. The flushed faces, the messy hair and the cozy pjs... and the weak tired voices… gah its all so cute!! >w<)

My personal favorite trope to play with is high fevers, migraines, and exhaustion/fainting 🌡️

Colds/Flus are super fun too (tho I'm not too graphic on it as some people are) 🤧I'm not too into snz (its fine) but I do like coughing a lot.

I'm not into emeto as an actual emetophobic with irl people…💦 However, sometimes I can write it in an implied sense with little graphic detail. And at times I do enjoy reading it if its not TOO graphic. 🤢 (I'm better with it in fictional media and art, but if it's irl emeto with real people vomiting, then nope THAT triggers me.)

Reasons illness/caretaking hurt/comfort tropes are my favorite

I love when a usually strong, serious, stoic (or asshole) character becomes more vulnerable when they're taken down by illness (bonus points if they become super needy >w<)

Really great fluff fodder for a Parent/Guardian and Child type of relationship. Or even a found-family situation.

Super wholesome and sweet for shipping, siblings, or close friendships. In sickness and in health as they say :3

~

It is not in any way a kink for me. It's just a trope I really enjoy and fangirl over, but I never get off on it. It just makes me genuinely happy. Its a comfort of sorts to me💜

Its my favorite type of genre to read and watch. And I even write/draw/edit it myself sometimes c: And I usually have my favorite character as the victim of it :3c

It's also made me really like nurse-aesthetics. Especially masks and thermometers >w<

Just wanted to gab a bit about this.

Here's my AO3 if you wanna read my few fics I have written~

And this is my prime whumpee~🌡️💊

(note this is an EDIT I wish it was real ;w;)

Rain Code Whump Tag

Art Tag

Thanks for listening!

Fluffy sickies ftw~ <3

[muffy-official]

I haven't fully developed Gabbys parents and I feel ashamed aaa

Her mother is Joanna Kamiński, Henrys sweet Joanna

Her father is Henry Theodore Garland(fine with being called both names, he's used to that)

Haven't really thought of their full looks nor designs yet, might try to develop that

I had ideas for further lore:

I lowkey forget names I have written down tbh

But her dad mayhaps worked at a newspaper office for a while

Unhappy with the censoring that happened there

Eventually stumbling upon a cleaning lady who seemed to never want to speak, being Gabs future mother

From using gestures he tried to speak for her until her English got better, shielding her from possible discrimination and eventually it clicked between the two

Him perhaps even quitting his old job to pursue journalism as a job rather than a hobby, with her mom she maybe waited a bit or went for simple jobs when she felt the employers were somewhat immigrant friendly

Eventually deciding they wanted a child together

Being nervous, but loving first time parents, probably that's why Babri was so sour when seeing a 6yo Gabby run to her worrying sick father. She had what he never got.

Joanna was also aware of the dangers Henrys job might bring and Henry himself feels awful about said dangers that could happen when he isn't careful

Even if they were loving, they grew more protective over eachother and especially their child due to Henrys semi freelance journalism he's been conducting on Murkoff and hoping, praying even the mob family that did caught up a journalist was here in New Orleans undercover in 46 won't find his families location in Colorado. Unaware it's Murkoff that will take both him and Joanna forcefully from their home in 1950 while Gabby was away. Henry getting beaten unconscious by masked men in the process while Joanna was injected with a anesthetic as she was about to hit one of the many men with a bust she picked up from a little table. The house was left in a mess, somehow nobody caught wind of what happened or perhaps people were forced to look away who knows...

Henrys love language to Joanna was trying to find polish vinyls they could listen and dance to together. Even learning words, backing her up and always being there for her. He loves her dearly, he loves his child, she loves her child. Helping her around the house and with the baby as much as he could, comforting Joanna when news struck that part if not most of their family has been captured, killed or gotten in trouble in Poland. Just unfortunate that Murkoff took them. Even if they didn't, the alternative wouldn't be any better.. who knows what Salvatore Barbi would've done to or with Joanna and little Gabby if he did get his hands on Henry himself if he ever discovered their house in Colorado one way or another.

Henry also has a birthmark under his right eye, Joanna on the lower left corner of her mouth which Gabby ends up having both visible on her face

Henry also tried to avoid serving as much as he could. He couldn't handle thinking about how Joanna feels or leaving their not yet born daughter without a father

Henrys father, Albert hated that his son fell in love and slept with a Polish immigrant, being in that hateful mindset. He decided to just not allow his father to show up ever again, not even to Gabbys birthdays. The kid was only at his place a few times when her grandma Mary Ann was still alive, which she was a sweet woman, embarrassed of her husbands hateful views, but would feel guilty leaving his son behind like this.

Gabby as a child was a very alive and happy little girl, kinda reminding me of Bioshocks little sisters

Even though she still had to deal with mean things due to her hair colour and generally acting a bit different than other kids around her and be careful to not make it shown her mother's a immigrant

Listening to her dads rules to not trust most suited men upfront that may be trying talking to her etc

Her mother telling her to stay away from cops. There was one instance where a 3yo Gabby quietly wandered off from her mother, almost leaving the store as she saw something colourful outside that peaked the toddlers interest, her path getting blocked by a police officer who looked at the child and asked where her parents are, but before he could take further action her mother quickly picked her up seeing this, pointed at herself and left, leaving the man quite confused. Joanna doesn't like speaking in public due to her accent.

And what messes with her years since the disappearance her parents happened is that she eventually accepted they're probably dead, but something feels off about this. Something feels like they may be still here, but she doesn't know where or its just her still staying in denial, not wanting to believe if they're truly long gone.

Ngl I do hope this makes at least some sense and I also hope it's interesting and not bad to read

Update: tried to do a idea sketch for Joanna, not sure if this is the one

It's kinda hard to design parents that resemble their child enough

[highmach]

˗ˏˋ 𓂃 ( seo in guk. male. he/him ). meet SeonHo Han, a 36 year old, who has been in cloyne for most of his life. they are a pharmacist at cloyne pharmacy, known for being persuasive and traitorous. they are often heard humming along to dancing with the devil by isbanky. residents would describe them as the troublemaker.

I. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋

name : seonho han — nickname(s) : seon/zeon/xeon — gender : cis male — birthday : DEC02.86' — age : 36 — zodiac : sagittarius — occupation : pharmacist — relationship status : single

II. 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋

height : 5'11 — build : athletic — eye color : dark brown — hair color : black — piercings : ear lobes, left nipple — tattoos : none — characteristics : has a beauty mark under his right eye

III. 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓

tw: drugs?

Rumours followed him like bees to honey. SeonHo never knew what a life without whispers following even his shadow was like.

‘He ate my snack’ the kids said in elementary school, “he beat me up in the alley” his high school classmates accused him to the teacher, “the bastard stole my girlfriend” was written in the urinals of the university.

He denied all charges against him until security cameras recorded how 80% of what he was accused of was real (the other 20% was a blind spot). His mother was just grateful that no crime brought him to the sheriff's office. Mrs. Han didn't know about his misdeeds in the next town, and hopefully it will stay that way.

Seon had the gift of the gab and the smile to back him up. He liked to think he had everything and everyone in the palm of his hand until expired medicines began to disappear from the warehouse into his work. He denied it was him, cameras caught him red-handed but he denied it to the point where his boss believed his words and not the footage. The sheriff heard rumors, as always, but no 911 call was made. After the incident, he thought himself untouchable.

IV. 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍

Family — Friends — People he bullied during school years — Someone who holds a big grudge against him — Love perhaps? — Clients for his expired meds business.

[teatimebeliever]

Of the Shadows and Blood.

(Azriel X OC)

Zene and her band of misfits have only one purpose in their lives. Save as many innocent women and children from illyrian camps and punish as many illyrian males for their crimes and bring them to justice, something clearly the authorities in power won't do.

She will get her friends and family to safety on one of the islands across the sea, where they can finally live a life of peace and safety and comfort.

But when their actions draw the attention of the illustrious Inner Circle of the Night Court, Zene finds herself face to face with the mysterious spymaster, Azriel.

Mother, however, has different plans for them, as an unfortunate mating bond snaps in place, and a new threat is simmering in the horizon, forcing Zene to work with those she despises. And forcing her even closer to a certain shadowsinger and a mating bond she doesn't want.

AO3 link -

(I did end up posting on both lmao)

Part one of a fanfic based on this scene I came up with -

Enjoyyy

Chapter 1

"Do you have eyes on the armory? That's where they hide most of their loot."

"Of course, I also have eyes on the Winery," 

"Gabs, I swear to fucking gods-"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, Zene. Gods, Relax." Gabrielle rolled her shoulder, adjusting her grip on the railing of their makeshift watchtower. The moon rained a silvery glow over the landscape below, illuminating the sprawling camp of their enemies. The wind rustled through the trees that hid them from the camp. 

"I can't believe they fell for it again, aren't most of these men married?" She crinkled her nose in distaste. "Yet they opt to attend this event. It's literally borderline cheating."

Her eyes narrowed as she focused back towards the pub, a couple men with giant black wings entering.

"That's all of them. They are all in the pub." Her eyes gleamed with a predatory glint, feral sadism shining in her blue eyes as she watched, before her attention turned to the other side of the camp. Angling her neck to get a better view, she continued, "The Angels have started their rounds in the residential cottages looking for victims, and Nox should be at the armory in 5 minutes. They can hold the information off for 30 minutes, tops. The triplets will be waiting inside, lets hope they did their job well. You sure we are enough to take out 60 Illyrian warriors in that pub?"

"Don't make me laugh." Zene scoffed, her lips turning up into a smirk. "We have dealt with worse. Let's get this over with."

The watchtower creaked softly as a gust of wind swept through, carrying the scent of pine and distant fires. Below, torches flickered, casting dancing shadows on the ground.

They approached the pub, winnowing their way through the broken wards, the sound of muffled laughter and clanking tankards drifting out into the night air. Zene flicked her head towards the small cottage in front of the pub as a gesture for Gabrielle while she circled around to the back entrance, ensuring they had every angle covered, only to freeze and immediately take cover when she almost ran into a guard.

With a small movement of her wrist, Zene hurled one of her glowing cobalt daggers, embedding it in the wooden wall beside the unsuspecting guard. His eyes flickered to the left towards the dagger now glinting in the moonlight, but before he could raise any alarm, she was upon him, her second dagger finding its mark in his neck with lethal precision. The guard collapsed silently, his body crumpling to the ground, and Zene entered the pub with a push to the backdoor and the glowing dagger in the wall misted away.

Meanwhile, Gabrielle moved with the grace of a hunting cat, her bow drawn taut as she perched on the rooftop of the adjacent cottage. With a keen eye towards the giant open window at the front of the pub, she targeted the Illyrians inside, and focused on one of them. The man near the window was laughing, guffawing really, as he looked at someone just out of sight. A slight smile curved on her lips, as she lets the arrow fly, just as he throws his head back into another laugh, landing precisely on his pulsepoint.

His eyes widened as he choked, the goblet clattering to the ground. His hands ghost over his neck, before his body fell to the ground. 

Gabrielle could almost hear the silence that was now perpetuating in the room. She hid behind the chimney taking cover as she loaded another arrow and giggled to herself, before closing her eyes as she disappeared. 

Her bow and arrow also vanished with her, yet she was there, unseen and unheard, skipping to different parts of the rooftop, soft laughter of pure and utter mirth escaping her lips as each arrow, seemingly appearing out of thin air, found its mark with deadly accuracy. The soft thud of bodies hitting the ground felt like a reward, the air smelled like beer and fear, anger and vengeance.

Inside, chaos erupted as the Illyrians scrambled to defend themselves against the unseen assailants. 

Zene, with her short stature, effortlessly weaved through the crowd of towering illyrians, unnoticed towards the back of the small makeshift stage as the men scrambled to ready their weapons. Their focus was fixated on the window, where arrows materialized, seemingly out of nowhere.

She quickly surveyed the people backstage, her eyes landing finally on a pair of ocean blue with midnight black hair, and the delicate and pale face of a young girl, looking intently at her. The girl's face was calm, waiting.

Zene tilted her head in silent inquiry, a wordless question hanging in the air.

The girl nodded.

Zene smiled to herself and watched as the girl turned to the other two girls flanking her. A brunette and a ginger, both just as beautiful, bordering on surreal. They exchanged hushed words amongst themselves before gliding towards the backstage exit, their graceful movements captivating even in the midst of urgency.

After making sure that the triplets had left, Zene turned back towards the pub, a slight grimace on her lips. With a graceful gesture, she extended her palms and summoned two orbs of radiant blue light, which coalesced into gleaming daggers.  Gripping their hilts firmly, she raised her gaze, a quick whispered apology to the mother leaving her lips as she swiftly plunged one of the shimmering blades into the nearest Illyrian's neck, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The glow of the blades casting an eerie illumination upon the chaotic scene.

As Zene swiftly killed another Illyrian with her glowing daggers, chaos erupted in the pub. The remaining warriors scrambled to defend themselves against the unexpected attack, their shouts and the clash of weapons filling the air. 

But they were slow, far too slow against the two nimble females.

Perhaps they should have thought twice before accepting faerie wine from the pretty nymphs, when their wives waited at home.

The thought rid Zene of any guilt in her heart, her mind closing off all emotions as she brutalised the illyrians. Most of them, she only injured enough to knock them out, some of them fainted all because of the wine the nymph triplets had seduced into their systems and the other, the ones she remembered specifically from their earlier observation rounds in this camp as being specifically terrible to women and children, she murdered in cold blood. 

Zene's movements were a blur of calculated strikes and swift dodges as she danced through the chaos, her glowing daggers made swirls of light in the dimly lit pub. With each precise motion, another Illyrian fell, leaving a trail of fallen warriors in her wake, until the pub was littered with bodies and the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat and beer.

Meanwhile, Gabrielle continued her unseen assault from the rooftop, her laughter echoing through the night as she picked off her targets with lethal accuracy. With each arrow she released, another enemy met their demise, adding to the growing tally of casualties inflicted by the duo.

With the majority of their foes incapacitated, severely injured or knocked out, Gabrielle quickly winnowed into the scene, eyes just a little too wild with mirth to be considered sane.

Zene and Gabrielle quickly moved to secure the pub, ensuring that any others still watching were dealt with swiftly and decisively. Bloodied but unbowed, they stood amidst the aftermath of their handiwork, their breaths coming in steady rhythms as they surveyed the scene before them.

"That was not nearly as fun as I thought it would be." Gabrielle's laughter tinkled through the air, a stark contrast to the bloody silence around her, as she playfully nudged the head of one of the fallen Illyrians with her foot, a wry grin forming on her lips at the snort that escaped the unconscious man.  "They really are just pea brained warriors, accepting wine from nymphs." She scoffed.

"You seem particularly happy for someone who didn't think this was fun enough." Zene points out, eyes scanning the room and counting the number of bodies. 

"I have a bit of a history with this camp. I remember being beaten to a pulp for forgetting to heat up water for my lovely husband here. Pity he died in the Hybern war, I would have taken my time with him." Gabrielle's eyes were dark, no amusement left in her icy blue eyes.

The women are out and team angels is halfway back already, the guards have been alerted. Leave.

As Nox's voice echoed in her head, Zene silently thanked her before reinforcing her mental shields. She then turned to Gabrielle, who now held a goblet filled with faerie wine.

"Let me just finish counting up and then we can-" Zene paused as she noticed that Gabrielle had gone quiet. Her eyes were wide, her red lips open in horror as she stared at one specific spot near the sofas.

Zene's eyes followed Gabrielle's line of vision, jaw tensing as she noticed the unconscious man. 

It shouldn't have been surprising to see just another giant illyrian man with huge wings splayed out on the couch, absolutely drunk on faerie wine. Nothing out of place for what Gabrielle and Zene had just done. 

No, it should have been a normal sight, just another man, the last one really, with which Zene could have been done counting the number of people in the pub, and gone home arm and arm after another successful raid.

After all, there was nothing abnormal about his towering physique and fairly long dark hair, put up in a bun, some of the hair falling into his face, nothing abnormal about his illyrian leathers, nothing abnormal at all.

Nothing except, the seven shining siphons, placed strategically on his impressive body.

Gabrielle and Zene exchanged nervous glances. 

"We have to run." 

Authors note

Disclaimer: This is just random brain stuff okay? Do not take this too seriously idk what im doing. There WILL BE GLARINGLY OBVIOUS PLOTHOLES I HAVE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE

Updates Schedule : Sporadic until May 5 and then I will probably go like once a week maybe.

I am going to post on AO3 too, linked at the top of the chapter. Also english is NOT my native language so expect mistakes.

I am open to suggestions and stuff, I only have like I basic idea where I want to take things, please leave comments if u want to see certain things or dynamics! Reblogs are appreciated.

Have a great rest of the day! Leave a comment if you want to be tagged. The ones in red could not be tagged, I really don't know why someone help-

I would love to discuss more with you in the comments 🫶���

@thelov3lybookworm @moony-loves-books @maribelpj @stardustcrusadingcherry @thisiskaylin @cleverzonkwombatsludge @asilverraven @mich0731

@impossibellesliteraryloves @marvelouslovely-barnes @kksbookstuff @ineedafreeblog @tomanyfandomsnotenoughtime

[marimayscarlett]

Thank you so much for recommending Immer und Uberall. It is so good! Sometimes you want an easy, no deep plot but feel good story and this was it! And even translating it into English was still very good.

Do you have any more recommendations as such? X

Hi 😊

Glad you like that fanfic! I really binge-read it over the Christmas days and really enjoyed the lighthearted (and steamy) atmosphere of it 💜 Here are some more german fanfictions which I also quite enjoyed - (somehow, I love reading blithe, romantic and happy ending-stories in german and can endure real drama/angst only in english ones). They do involve some heartbreak but ultimatively have happy endings and are all in all just feel-good stories:

Für immer (in english: Forever), the sequel to Immer und überall:

Du, ich, wir (in english: You, me, us)

Weihnachten in Berlin (in english: Christmas in Berlin)

Der Sturm (in english: The storm)

The following two fanfics do involve some topics regarding mental health issues (heavily referencing Richard's depressive episode in 2019) but are SO well written and ultimatively are so romantic and do have a happy ending, I couldn't leave them out. They're essentially the same story, first from Richard's POV, then from Paul's POV:

Schlafende Hunde (english: Sleeping dogs), from Richard's POV:

Sehnsucht (english: longing), from Paul's POV:

All of them should work fine in english (well, maybe apart of some dialect phrasing). Thank you to the wonderful @m---e---l for recommending most of these to me, these fanfictions got me into reading german fanfictions more regularly again (after I haven't touched german ones in almost two years after reading a particularly heartwrenching one 🤧).