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#I'll add more later if I have any more down time tonight
jessicanjpa · 4 months
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Twilight Advent Calendar 2023 Event
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Dec. 24 - What Christmas/holiday gifts are your favorite characters exchanging this year?
-Alice is forever coming up with new ways to dress up Rosalie. (She still does a lot of shopping/designing for Esme, Bella, and Renesmee, but Rosalie is the only family member who really enjoys getting into it with her.) So this year Alice teamed up with Jasper to design Rosalie a custom app. It helps her track what's in her closet and match those items either with each other or with outfits and accessories available around the world. So basically Pantrify, but for her (global) closet. Alice is constantly uploading her digital "Maybe this with the navy blue skirt?" ideas into the app for Rosalie to assess.
-Emmett: here
-Every now and then, Carlisle makes a heroic effort to create something artistic for Esme. This year he painted (from memory) the little chapel where they got married. Esme always displays these random creations in her studio or their bedroom with the indulgent (slightly overdone) pride of a mother hanging her two-year-old's drawings on the fridge. (His work isn't actually bad at all; it's more about his profound lack of confidence.)
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You can find all of the #twilightadvent23 prompts here!
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ellemj · 5 months
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Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 2
Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Please read part 1 first if you haven't!
Summary: Living with Bucky Barnes just keeps getting more difficult, and it's been less than 24 hours. Now, he's unexpectedly sent out as backup on what was supposed to be your solo mission. What happens when you insist on putting yourself in danger, as you always do?
Warnings: profanity, mention of wet dream from part 1, teasing, strip club, mention of weapons (firearms), use of firearms, drive-by shooting, gunshot wound, jealous!Bucky, protective!Bucky, some use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.
Word Count: 4.9k
A/N: I'm sorry for the long pause since posting part 1 of this series! I got caught up with life and had a lack of inspiration for writing this, but I found some motivation/inspiration the last two days so here it is, finally. I'll be better about pushing out the next few parts of this in a more timely manner. If you'd like to be added to the taglist you can add yourself using this Google doc. Please use it responsibly.
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        You really thought an early morning run was going to clear your mind. You thought you could drown the details of the wet dream in sweat and pain and never think about it again. So, you were especially pissed off when the make-believe sound of Bucky making you ask for what you want began replaying in your mind with every step that you took down the chilly trails. Tell me what you need. As you continue along the dirt path, you can almost feel his hands on your thighs. Fuck. You know it means nothing. It was just a stupid dream. It probably only came about because you ran into him in the kitchen last night. If you’d run into a big, purple, infinity stone-wielding cretin in the kitchen you would’ve been just as likely to have a wet dream about that, right? Well, maybe not. But you can tell yourself that in hopes that it’ll ease your internal rage over having a wet dream about your new roommate.
         An hour later, you’re catching your breath in the elevator on the way back up to your floor. You tug your hair out of its snug ponytail and run your hands through it, massaging your scalp with your fingertips. You’re planning to take a nice, long shower, lock yourself in your room and do a little prep for the solo mission you have later tonight, and then meet up with Sharon for lunch. You repeat the plan in your head over and over as the elevator slowly carries you upward. It seems like a solid enough plan to help you avoid Bucky for at least half the day. Or so you thought.
         You’re as quiet as possible when you unlock the front door, unsure if Bucky may still be asleep or if he’s even home at all. Of course, the first thing you see when you step inside is Bucky, shirtless and in the kitchen yet again. He seems to love that little space beside the kitchen sink. The sigh that leaves your lips is a little more audible than you’d intended it to be, and the way Bucky lifts his gaze to your direction and raises an eyebrow at you lets you know that he not only heard it, but he wants to know what it was about. You didn’t mean to blurt the words out, you really didn’t. But the way he stood there both last night and this morning, looking so fucking hot that it makes your head spin and your cheeks feel warm…you just had to speak up.
         “Do you ever wear a shirt?” You ask exasperatedly. You push the door shut behind you and lock the deadbolt with a resounding click. When you look back at Bucky once more, he’s fucking smirking. You’re simultaneously annoyed and turned on, and all you want is a cold shower.
         “About as often as you wear pants.” He retorts. You don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure, taking in your slightly disheveled post-run look. He takes a sip from the glass of water in his hand as he wonders how the hell you still look so put together after a run. Your hair is down and somehow looks perfectly windswept, your cheeks and nose have the slightest pink tint to them from both the cold weather outside and the heavy exercise, and your leggings are hugging your legs and ass so tightly that you may as well be wearing nothing at all. His gaze makes you feel like your skin is on fire and it sets off alarm bells in your head. You need to get out of here. You make a beeline for the fridge, pulling it open and retrieving a cold bottle of water before quickly exiting the kitchen again, refusing to give Bucky a second look. Once you’re in the bathroom, you waste no time stepping into a cold shower as fast as possible.
         Bucky remains in the kitchen for another minute, almost laughing at his current living situation. The man has had only the most minimal associations with women outside of a professional setting for years now, and he sure as hell doesn’t remember any pleasurable interactions with women during his time as the Winter Soldier. Now, he lives with one. And not even just that, but he’s fucking attracted to the one he lives with. He created his own personal hell by suggesting you and Vision switch rooms, and now he has to deal with it. He tries to tell himself that you’re just physically attractive. He’d never like you on all of the levels needed for a relationship. He can’t stand the way you work in the field, you’re too unpredictable and too willing to put yourself at risk. It’s beyond frustrating. He could never like someone who doesn’t seem to give a damn if they live or die. So, he’ll focus on that. He’ll focus on that one thing until he finds enough things to dislike about you to make his cock start listening to his brain again.
         You shut off your cold shower and quickly towel yourself dry before wrapping the towel snugly around your body. You didn’t last more than three minutes under the icy stream of water, but it definitely did its job. Your stupidly attractive roommate is the last thing on your mind now. Or at least he was until you realize you were so rushed to get away from him in the kitchen a few minutes ago that you forgot to grab a clean change of clothes to put on after your shower. Shit. You’re freezing your ass off so you sure as hell aren’t going to wait around until you hear his bedroom door shut. Without giving it a second thought, you glance in the mirror to make sure that the towel at least covers your ass before pulling the bathroom door open and stepping out into the hall.
         Fucking hell. As Bucky stands in the hallway staring at you, he can’t seem to remember the one thing that he was focusing on to help dissuade his attraction to you. All he can focus on now is the way the skin of your neck looks so smooth and soft, the way your neck transitions seamlessly down to your collarbones, and the way your collarbones draw his eyes further down to your chest. He doesn’t let himself look any further once his eyes land on the cleavage that’s just barely peeking out over the top of the towel. His eyes flit back up to your face and suddenly, you don’t feel like the powerless one here. You’d think you would be feeling like the powerless one, given that you’re standing here in a towel and he’s between you and your bedroom door, but you don’t. You noticed the way he froze when he saw you, the way he couldn’t stop his eyes from tracing the curve of your neck and shoulders, and the way his eyes lingered on your chest a little longer than you would’ve expected. You have the power here. You straighten up a little and take a few slow, small steps closer to Bucky. He’s frozen right in between your two bedroom doors, so he’ll have to move out of your way or you’ll have to squeeze past him to get into your room. You’re sure he’ll move. You can feel your towel riding up your thighs and nearly exposing the curve of your ass with every step you take, but you fight the urge to tug it down, worried that the action would make you look insecure. Bucky stands firm in front of you, the eye contact between you two so intense that you wonder if he can see straight through you. God, you see why Sam calls him the bionic staring machine sometimes.
         Just as you expected, Bucky turns and walks up to his own bedroom door once you’re just a foot in front of him. What you didn’t expect was for him to say something to you as you wrapped your hand around your own bedroom door handle.
         “That’s twice now that you’ve tried showing me your ass in the past twenty-four hours.” His tone is calm and even but his words are taunting. You turn on your heel to see him standing in his doorway, facing you, and his blue eyes meeting yours instantly. You’re acutely aware of how short your towel is as it barely covers the curve of your ass, leaving little to the imagination. Apparently, Bucky’s well aware of it too.
         “If you were nicer to me, you might’ve made it to three times, James.” You tease, pushing your bedroom door open and walking through it, refusing to look over your shoulder at him. It’s safe to assume he stole one last look at your towel-clad form before you shut your bedroom door and left him standing there with his cock as hard as it’s ever been.
---
         Ah, fuck. Bucky rests his flesh arm on the inner wall of the shower and his forehead on his forearm, watching the water run into the shower drain at his feet. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you in that damn towel. Every time you took a breath, your chest would pull the towel up your thighs in the slightest bit. It was practically torture standing in front of you when you looked like that. He shakes his head and turns his chin up with closed eyes, letting the warm water splash into his face, trying but failing to wash the image of you away. He clenches his jaw and looks back down at his cock. Fully erect, and from what? Nothing. You barely did a damn thing. You just happened to be walking down the hallway in a towel, surely not even intentionally. You just forgot your clothes. But shit, the view from where Bucky stood is forever ingrained in his memory. The view and the way you said his first name like you liked the sound of it. He’d never heard you say his first name before. Hell, he liked the sound of it. But your fucking teasing? He didn’t like the sound of that. The way you insinuated, jokingly of course, that you would’ve continued finding ways to nearly show him your ass if he was nicer to you? Bullshit. This is all bullshit. Bucky desperately needs either a new place to live or a fan-fucking-tastic new method of letting off steam, before he says or does something stupid.
         He wills himself to ignore his cock in the shower, and once he gets out and towels dry, he pulls on a clean pair of boxers and sweats. He utilizes the ages-old trick of tucking his boner beneath the waistband of his boxers so it won’t be as obvious when he inevitably runs into you again in the tiny apartment that you share. This time, he’s also sure to put on a t-shirt. Maybe him being fully clothed will inspire you to start wearing some pants. As he pulls the bathroom door open and heads straight for his bedroom, he thinks that maybe he should head out for the day, get away from here before he runs into you again and you have the chance to call him by his first name or nearly show him your ass for a third time.
         You’re sitting on your bed, scanning dutifully over a few electronic files that Fury sent you regarding tonight’s solo op, when you hear Bucky finish up in the shower and quickly shut himself up in his room. Your mind starts to drift away from the task at hand as you replay his words from earlier in your head. That’s twice now that you’ve tried showing me your ass in the past twenty-four hours. Of course the little shit was keeping count. And the best response you could come up with was a tease. You scrunch your eyes shut and shake your head, attempting to clear your mind so you can focus on the mission details before you. This is not the time to be getting distracted. Tonight’s op is serious, and you’re going in with only two backup agents strategically placed in the club’s staff, so you need to be as prepared as possible and as on your game as you’ve ever been.
---
         A not-so-innocent little black lingerie set adorns your figure, hugging your body in all of the right ways and accentuating all of your best features. You give yourself one last look in the tall mirror in your bedroom, making sure everything looks perfect, before pulling on a pair of black jeans, a black sweater, and then a black leather jacket over the top. You pull on a pair of sneakers before double-checking that your bag for the night is packed and ready. It holds a pair of black ankle-strap heels, body glitter, your most complimented perfume, your makeup bag, and a couple of choice weapons tucked away from prying eyes. You have everything you need to gain the attention of one particularly nasty underground vibranium dealer, Elias Leveaux.
         In less than an hour, you’re downtown at the most high-end strip club in northern New York. It’s known for wealthy clientele, and it’s on SHIELD’s radar specifically because Elias is known to drop in at least once or twice a month. You’ve read enough about the guy to wonder why someone with so much money and such an illegal, secretive day job would choose to go to a strip club that’s more or less open to the public. You’d think he’d hire a few girls privately and enjoy his free time that way, but it’s like he gets off on the experience of being the richest, scariest guy in the place. So he goes, at least once a month, always sometime during the second week of the month, like clockwork.
         The last thing you expected to see when you walk in the back staff entrance of the club is a text from Fury, letting you know that the plan for tonight has changed. It’s nonspecific and gives you absolutely no clue as to what might’ve changed, but you don’t have time to text him back and ask for clarification before you’re being directed to the dressing room and told that you’re supposed to be on the floor in less than five minutes. What the hell is Fury thinking?
         Bucky initially thought that being called out for a last-minute op was a blessing. He thought it was exactly what he needed to get out of the apartment for a few hours and get his mind off of you. At least until he found out that the entire op centered around you. He breathes a heavy sigh as he stands outside the club, adjusting his black gloves and glancing at his watch impatiently. Sam is never late. Walker, however, doesn’t know how to be anything but late. Of course, Sam wasn’t going to be the one to wait around outside for Walker’s arrival, so he’s already in the club, seated somewhere at a table near the back wall to keep an eye on things. As Bucky continues to wait in the cold, he begins to wonder what kind of role you’re playing here tonight. Are you a cocktail waitress? A bartender? Fury didn’t give him much information when he called earlier, he simply said that the possibility of something going sideways tonight had escalated enough that he wanted extra hands on deck. Specifically, the undercover hands of the new Captain America, a super soldier, and America’s most hated: John Walker. 
         “I’ve got eyes on Leveaux, he came in through the private entrance on the west side of the building.” Sam’s voice reaches Bucky through his in-ear monitor, right as Walker is approaching.
         “Sorry I’m late. Fury really doesn’t like to give us a heads up, does he?” Walker asks, clapping Bucky on the shoulder in greeting. Bucky shoots him a death glare and Walker quickly drops his smile and hand, remembering who he’s talking to. This is going to be a long fucking night.
---
         When the lights go off and the crowd in the club gets quieter than it’s been for the last forty-five minutes, Bucky follows the turning of everyone’s heads to the stage. A few dancers have come and gone so far, a couple had the crowd going wild for sure, but whatever it is that’s coming next seems to have sucked the breath out of everyone’s chests as they sit on the edge of their seats with anticipation. Even Elias Leveaux has waved his henchmen away and he sits at his table close to the stage with all of his focus trained on the dark platform. When the lights on the stage turn on, they have a deep red hue to them. The low notes of a sultry song begin rumbling through the speakers in the club and as soon as the first bit of skin is visible on stage, Bucky’s mouth goes dry and his heart begins slamming against his ribcage.
         Holy fucking shit. It’s you. You’re the girl that has the attention of every single man and woman in the club right now. You’re the girl dressed in the skimpiest little outfit that Bucky has ever seen. Even the bartenders across the room have their eyes on you. Bucky can’t breathe, he can’t move, he can’t think. You make it to centerstage and begin your routine seamlessly, transitioning from a suggestive dance in your heels to an all-out Magic Mike-level move that involves you crawling across the stage, perfectly in time with the music. When your eyes land on Elias, you maintain eye contact with him as you crawl forward, arching your back and flipping your hair over one shoulder. You watch as he adjusts himself in his seat and rests his right hand high up on his thigh, a tell-tale sign that he’s hard as a rock and it’s all because of you. You flash him an innocent smile before continuing your routine and scanning the rest of the club for his henchmen. You count two near the bar, and one near the main entrance. You’re two minutes in and nearly finishing up your routine, dragging your hands down your chest, over the see-through black lace corset that wraps around your ribcage, when your eyes land on the last person you need to be thinking about. Bucky Barnes. He sits at a table in the far back corner. You can’t even drag your gaze away from him long enough to see who else is at his table. Your eyes are locked on his as your skin heats up and the music fades away. He’s too far away for you to notice the way his jaw is clenched or the way a tent is forming in the front of his tactical pants. As soon as you’ve disappeared from the stage, Bucky stealthily adjusts his pants and composes himself before turning to Sam and Walker.
         “What the hell? If this is what she does on all of those solo ops Fury sends her on, sign me up. I’ll be back-up for every single one.” Walker says, clearly not caring to hide his own arousal. Bucky imagines his fist colliding with the side of John’s face and it calms him a little before he speaks up.
         “Say something like that again and watch where it gets you.” Bucky’s tone is like ice, sending a nervous chill through John Walker’s bloodstream and effectively softening the hard-on in his pants. Unfortunately, Bucky’s own hard-on isn’t going away. Sam isn’t paying any attention to the two men on his team, he’s instead focused on Elias Leveaux, who’s waving over one of his henchmen and whispering something to him. Bucky follows Sam’s line of sight and sees the same thing. The henchman quickly disappears backstage, going through a door labeled “staff-only.” This is either going to be exactly what you and Fury planned for or something that’s going to end badly, there’s really no in between. Your goal was to have Leveaux ask for a private dance, or at least approach you and make contact in some way. You need an in with him.
         You’re just stepping into the dressing room backstage when a tall man dressed in all black, one that you recognize as an employee of Leveaux that was standing near the bar earlier, approaches you in a surprisingly professional manner. He keeps is eyes on your face, even though you’re still wearing an outfit that bares nearly your entire body for everyone to see.
         “Miss, my employer would like a moment with you in private.” The man’s voice is low, and he keeps his tone hushed so the other girls in the dressing room can’t fully make out his words.
         “Your employer?” You ask, easily playing dumb.
         “Mr. Leveaux. He’s in attendance tonight and would like a moment of your time, if you’re free to meet with him now.” You pretend like you’re mulling over his words as you examine your makeup in the mirror.
         “Should I change clothes?” You inquire, meeting the man’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. He gives you a small smile and shakes his head.
         “I don’t think that will be necessary.” His answer gives you plenty of information. Elias Leveaux is interested.
         Ten minutes later, you’re in one of the private rooms upstairs with the most ruthless vibranium dealer sitting on a couch in front of you. You’ve just walked in and already, his gaze is ravaging your body. He’s basically removing every little piece of your lingerie ensemble with his eyes alone.
         “Mr. Leveaux…” His name leaving your lips brings his gaze up to your face. You study him for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of surveillance pictures in SHIELD files. He’s characteristically attractive, with a chiseled jawline and perfectly manicured stubble decorating it. His hair is black, so black that it matches the tattoos you can see peeking out from the collar of his button-up shirt. Your job is always easier when the bad guys are hot as fuck. “What can I do for you tonight?” You ask, an air of confidence surrounding you as you play with your hair and lean against the wall across from him.
         “Come closer.” He says, cocking his head and spreading his legs slightly on the couch. He oozes confidence and masculinity, in a way that nearly makes you blush. You obey his command, and as soon as you’re within his reach, he grasps your hand and pulls you down to sit on his knee. “Tell me your name.” You’re learning very quickly that he never ends anything with a question mark.
         “I don’t get your first name?” You ask, letting your left hand rest on his shoulder as his comes to rest on your bare thigh. He studies you in silence for a moment, ghosting his hand back and forth along your thigh as you stare back at him. The dim lights in the room and sultry music playing through the speakers only add to the tension.
         “Come home with me tonight and you get anything you want.”
         You made the decision on a whim. Knowing that Fury not only has an entire surveillance team watching everything that’s happening in the club right now, but that he also has Bucky and whoever is with him on site, you’re not very worried about what might happen. So, this wasn’t part of the original plan, so what? You were supposed to do whatever you needed to do to gain Elias’s attention because you needed an in with him. You needed to become someone he trusted so that you could eventually gain access to his phone. The original plan involved him noticing you tonight, maybe paying for a private dance the next time he sees you at the club, where you’d have the chance to drug him and access his phone to get the names and phone numbers of a few of his contacts. But as soon as he invited you back to his place, you knew that you could knock out the entire possibly months-long op in one night. So, you decided to take the chance. You stand on the curb now, with his long black coat wrapped tightly around your frame since Elias didn’t give you time to go back and put your clothes on over your lingerie. You didn’t want to risk bringing your bag anyway, not with your gun in it. Though you feel naked while not having a firearm within arm’s reach, you imagine this night would take a turn for the worse if he or one of his henchmen went through your bag and found a government-issued one.
         Bucky stands with Sam and Walker inside the club, near the exit, as Sam tries to decide what to do in this moment. Sam sure as hell doesn’t want to let you leave with this guy, but no one has come up with a good way to stop you yet, not without breaking your cover. Everyone knows how stubborn you are, but they also know how good you are at your job. If you’ve decided to go home with Elias Leveaux, it’s unlikely that anyone will be able to stop you, while simultaneously being likely that you’ll successfully finish the mission on your own tonight. However, by leaving with him, you’re going to be taking yourself far away from any backup, from any chance of rescue should anything go awry.
         After a few more seconds listening to Sam and Walker argue about a plan, Bucky sees the glint of a black car pulling up to the curb in the moonlight, and watches with silent rage as Leveaux’s hand dips down dangerously close to your ass before he reaches to open the back door for you. Fuck it.
         “Y/n!” Bucky’s voice reaches your ears so unexpectedly that you freeze. You hope that he knows that your cover name utilizes your real first name, otherwise he just attempted to blow your cover. What a fucking ass. You and Elias turn around at the same time, with Elias taking one look at Bucky and then immediately looking over at you, raising one eyebrow in question.
         “Ex-boyfriend.” You mutter to Elias, thinking on the fly. “Just give me a minute with him, then I’m all yours.” Elias glances back at Bucky one more time before nodding at you and sliding into the back seat of the car. You stalk over to Bucky, doing your best to mask some of your anger, stopping just a few inches in front of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Barnes?”
         “Keeping you from getting yourself killed. You’re not leaving with him.”
         “You might be a sergeant, but this isn’t the army and I’m not under your umbrella of authority.” You pair the words with a contemptuous stare, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. Bucky smirks at you and licks his bottom lip before shaking his head slightly.
         “So, what then? You’re going to sleep with him, drug him, steal the info you need, and somehow get out of his house unscathed? With no backup?” Bucky asks. When he puts it like that, you have to admit that your plan does sound a bit foolish. But still, you won’t back down.
         “Yeah, and you’re going to go back into the club and find someone else to take your orders, because it sure as hell isn’t going to be me taking them.” You spit back. You’re waiting for his next retort when his eyes flit away from your face, to the road behind you and a little to the left. He sees something. You’re about to turn your head to follow his gaze when suddenly his hands are on your hips and he’s spinning you around, slamming your back against the brick wall of the club. The long coat that Leveaux gave you earlier falls open just as Bucky presses his body firmly against yours, shielding you from the ricochet of bullets flying around the street.
         You’re holding your breath. Bucky hasn’t felt your chest rise or fall even once in the last three seconds since he slammed you against the wall. He glances down at you and sees your eyes scrunched shut and your cheeks flushed.
         “Breathe.” He whispers gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. You draw in a harsh breath at his reminder, and he feels your chest rise and push against his own. You both turn your head to the side as the dark car speeds off down the street, each of you quickly memorizing the make, model, and license plate number. Within a second after the first car has passed, Leveaux’s own car takes off after it. There goes your villainous one-night stand. “Are you hurt?” Bucky asks, still keeping you pinned against the wall. You shake your head, but feel something warm and wet against your right abdomen. When you look down, you realize it’s not your own blood turning your skin red, but Bucky’s, seeping through his shirt.
He’s been shot.
Next Part
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noahsresources · 1 year
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more cringy dirty & flirty pick-up lines sentence starters
this is extremely self-indulgent, don't mind me lmfao. feel free to use these for whatever you want and change any details that need to be.
❝ you're so hot, my zipper is falling for you. ❞ ❝ i love my bed, but i'd rather be in yours. ❞ ❝ nice outfit. it'd look even better if it were on my bedroom floor. ❞ ❝ roses are red, violets are fine. you be the six, and i'll be the nine. ❞ ❝ do you have any room for an extra tongue in your mouth? ❞ ❝ if you're feeling down, i can feel you up. ❞ ❝ my ideal body weight is yours on mine. ❞ ❝ your belt looks really tight. can i loosen it for you? ❞ ❝ there are 206 bones in your body. think you can handle another one? ❞ ❝ let's play carpenter so i can nail you. ❞ ❝ i'd tell you a joke about my dick, but ... it's too long. ❞ ❝ hey, i might be wasted, but the condom in my pocket doesn't have to be. ❞ ❝ i may not go down in history, but i'll go down on you. ❞ ❝ you must be a chicken farmer because you know exactly how to raise my cock. ❞ ❝ sorry, what's your name again? i want to get it right when i shout it later. ❞ ❝ you must be an elevator because i want to go up and down on you all day. ❞ ❝ i'd love to kiss those beautiful, luscious lips. and the ones on your face. ❞ ❝ if you were a toe, i'd bang you on every wall, table, and chair in this bar. ❞ ❝ sit on my lap, and let's talk about the first thing that pops up. ❞ ❝ do you work for UPS? 'cause you've got a fantastic package. ❞ ❝ want to play a game? i'll be the squirrel, you be the tree, and i'll bust a nut in your hole. ❞ ❝ your legs are like an oreo cookie. i wanna split them and eat all the good stuff in the middle. ❞ ❝ i bet i can touch your belly button ... from the inside. ❞ ❝ how do you feel about doing some math in the bedroom? all you need to do is add me, subtract your clothes, divide your legs, and we can multiply. ❞ ❝ remember my name, because you'll be screaming it later. ❞ ❝ my doctor told me i have a vitamin d deficiency. wanna go back to my place and save me? ❞ ❝ if i flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head? ❞ ❝ my dick's been feeling a little dead lately. wanna give it some mouth-to-mouth? ❞ ❝ i'm no weather man, but you can expect more than a few inches tonight. ❞ ❝ is your name medusa? because the moment you look at me, i get rock hard. ❞ ❝ can you tell me what time your legs open, please? ❞ ❝ are you a rubix cube? because the more i play with you the harder you get. ❞ ❝ you look too god for a pickup line, so let's cut to the chase — wanna fuck? ❞
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pinkroseblooms · 2 months
Text
Boy Toy, Pt.2
Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader
Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!
Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?
Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex. 
“You smell so good.” 
“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”
After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?” 
“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”
“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”
“You hate going out more than I do.”
“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”
“That’s my girl.”
One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with. 
“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”
“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”
“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”
“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”
“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”
“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”
“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”
You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”
“Which dress would you wear?”
“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”
“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”
“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”
“We’re meeting at his place.”
“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.
“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”
You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle. 
“How long have you known him?”
You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”
“Good looking?”
“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”
Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile. 
“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”
“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”
“Sure sounds like you know him well.”
“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”
Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.
When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze. 
It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.
Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.
“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”
“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”
“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”
“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”
You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”
“No.”
You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”
“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”
“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”
“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”
“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”
Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.
“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”
Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.
“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”
Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.
Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone? 
“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”
“Now you’re exaggerating.”
“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different. 
“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”
“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.” 
“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”
“Toji, I just got this!”
“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”
You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.
“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”
“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”
“Guess you need to train me better.” 
Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties. 
“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”
“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”
“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”
“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”
“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”
You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.
“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”
But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall. 
“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”
“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”
“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”
“Wha-what are you…?”
“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”
“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”
“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”
“No!”
“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”
“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”
“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”
“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”
“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”
“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”
Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought. 
You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act? 
“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”
“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”
“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”
“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”
Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.
“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”
“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”
Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile. 
“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”
Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop. 
“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.” 
Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.  
“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”
“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”
“Good…good boy…”
With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first. 
It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.
“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you.  “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”
187 notes · View notes
etherealyoungk · 6 months
Text
birthday blues no more - joshua hong
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pairing: joshua x reader
warnings: none, fluff
wordcount: 940
a/n: also @fairyhaos this is also a little bday gift from me to you bub, hope you like it <3
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you reach your apartment and step into the elevator, pressing the button and standing as the door is about to close. your eyes flutter shut and you let off a small sigh. today was exhausting like every other day, but today felt even more tiring. and today wasn't any normal day - it was your birthday.
you hear the whoosh of the elevator door opening and your eyes flutter open and you see a familiar face in front of you, joshua, your coworker. you both coincidently lived in the same apartment building, just a floor apart. he steps in, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement as he stands beside you.
the elevator ride is quiet until joshua speaks, his voice filling the space. "any birthday plans?", he asks, looking over at you. you meet his eyes and shake your head. "no, not really", you say. all your friends were busy and your family stayed out of town, so no plans, no one to celebrate with. but you were used to it, spending your birthday alone, not really doing much. you whisper a small bye as you leave, walking towards your apartment door, the keys jangling as you unlock the door and step in.
30 minutes later, you've changed and you're sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone as you try to decide what you are feeling like eating for dinner when you hear the doorbell ring. you furrow your brows as you get up and open the door slightly, only to see joshua standing outside. you immediately straighten up and greet him with a small smile. in all the time you knew him, he'd never come up to your house, so seeing him at your door tonight was a surprise.
"oh hi!", you tell, opening the door wider.
"hi", he replies, giving you a small smile back.
"have you had dinner yet?", he asks, a hopeful look on his face. "no, i was just about to order something", you respond and he nods, a smile playing on his face.
"will you let me take you out to dinner?", he prompts and you open your mouth to say something but close it, words not forming. he must've seen the confusion on your face and speaks up in a rush. "that's the least i can do. i wouldn't want you to spend your birthday alone", he adds, running a nervous hand through his hair. he looks at you, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.
"yeah, okay", you say softly and he smiles. "great! i'll meet you at 8?", he asks and you nod as you watch him walk away and you close the door, resting your back against it, and you found yourself smiling.
as you get ready, you think about joshua. he was your co-worker but it wouldn't hurt to say that he was cute. you put on a the best outfit you can match in the given time and check your appearance in the mirror one last time before you hear the doorbell ring again. it must be joshua.
you hurry out, slipping into a pair of boots and you open the door. you're almost caught staring too long at joshua, because wow, he looked really good. the car ride is quiet and to be honest, you were nervous. would it seem weird that your co-worker was taking you out to dinner? did this mean this was a date or just a friendly dinner? your mind was racing.
joshua was an absolute gentleman the entire night, engaging in conversation and you both talked about things you'd never talked about before. you got to know each other more than just as co-workers but as friends. the more you got to know him, the more charming you found him.
"how come no special plans for your special day?", he asks, sitting opposite you as you both wait for the food to arrive. you shrug, eyes looking down at the glass of water in front of you. "friends are busy", you mumble out, looking back up. "i don't know, i don't really feel the need to celebrate my birthday", you add and he nods, contemplating.
"but it does need celebration! you've made it through another year around the sun, that's a big feat", he says, giving you a smile, a smile that almost melts your heart. you chuckle at his words. "well, i'm happy to be celebrating with you right now", you tell and this makes him smile wider. "i'm glad you feel that way", he says. he surprises you even more with a cake that also happens to be your favourite flavour - fresh cream and strawberries. he softly sings for you as you make a wish and blow out the candles, feeling content and delighted. "what did you wish for?", he asks and you give him a look, titling your head to the side. "if i tell you it won't come true", you reply and he chuckles. "wouldn't want that now do we", he adds as he helps you take off the candles from the cake before the wax drips onto it.
that night, after dinner, you're lying in bed thinking about joshua. you giggle and smile to yourself, burying your face in the pillow. that's when you realise that this was the first time in a while that you had opened up to someone, that this had been the best birthday in a while and you wished it wouldn't end. you hoped your newfound friendship with joshua would continue to blossom and grow. that was what you had wished for.
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taglist: @daisycheols @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @idubiluv @qaramu @n4mj00nvq @joshuaahong @itsveronicaxxx @fallingforshua29 @frankenstein852 @lvlystars
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03/20/2024 Daily OFMD Recap
TLDR; Rhys; Samba BTS; Con; YouWear50Well; AdoptOurCrew; RhysRadness; FanSpotlights; Articles; LoveNotes; DailyDarby/Tonight's Taika
== Rhys Darby ==
Rhys Darby turns 50 today (the 21st, so technically tomorrow for those of us in the US)!! He graced us with some new Selfie's in Aotearoa!
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== Samba Schutte BTS ==
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Good Calypso Samba put a lot of videos up today. I made posts for them, so I'll link them here. Literally only 1 picture and 14 videos. The man is a lunatic and I love it.
Video 1: Dream Sequence BTS!
Video 2: "Any other burning questions?"
Video 3: Samba & Madeleine & Vico BTS!
Video 4: Leslie & Nat BTS
Video 5: Zheng Plank Scene Takes
Video 6: Explosion Explanation - Earplugs In!
Video 7: Zheng Planking Stede BTS
Video 8: Samba on the Zipline BTS
Video 9: Revenge Crew Running on the Beach
Video 10: Canons BTS: "Let's try doing away with the pull line, cause I think that's just going to be a fucking disaster"
Video 11: Canon Fire: No sound
Video 12: What Explosions Felt Like
Video 13: "That's How The Pros Do It"
Video 14: More Canon Fire / Plank Walking Stede BTS
= Con O'Neill =
Con's show, Happy Valey haws been nominated for a BAFTA! Bafta TV Awards 2024: The List of Nominations
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== You Wear 50 Well ==
Rhys Darby's 50th! There were so many well wishes going around for our lovely captain's birthday! Several crewmates were kind enough to allow me to add their dedications to our captain to the recap tonight! @wanderingnomad @lucybluetiful @PaulineKnip @ourflagmeansfanfiction @eros_the_artist @kaddele
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= Tumblr Highlights! =
Our tumblr crewmates had lots of dedications as well!
= @brainfugk =
= @bizarrelittlemew =
= @kiwistede =
= @snejpowa =
= @stjernegaupe =
== Adopt Our Crew ==
The votes are in! Anton vs Louise was darn close! Now it's the final round! Stede Vs Anton! looks like Stede's in the lead!
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== Fan Spotlight ==
Our darling crewmate @iamadequate1's #MaxMadness replacement is down to the final round! We're down to Our Flag Means Death vs Coyote Vs Acme!
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= Cast Cards =
Thank you our dear @melvisik for tonight's new cast card! Christopher Corbin, while only in the show for a very small amount of time, he made a huge impact! "I'm no prostitute, mate!"
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== Articles ==
Coyote vs ACME Interview
= Love Notes =
Hey lovelies! Today's been amazing! Definitely been a lot of engagement and we're getting to celebrate our lovely captain! Soooo many people signed the 50th birthday Kudoboard that ended tonight ( and the Taika Kudoboard that ended yesterday). So many crewmates stepped out of their comfort zone and put themselves out there, and I just want to say how proud of you I am. I know it's hard to put yourself out there in case you can get hurt, but you still did it for the good of something / someone you love, and you should be proud of that! I hope you're getting some joy out of these days. I know it can be a bit of a double edged sword because we miss Stede and Ed and the whole Revenge crew so much. It's reminding a lot of folks of the gravy basket. Just a gentle reminder that things aren't over. Even if we're not fighting full force right now-- it's not over. It'll never be over. So many people are behind us, and so many other shows have gotten renewed later, sometimes years laters. I know you've heard it all before, but this isn't the end. If you feel up for it, take these days that are for celebrating, and even if you do it just with yourself, do something to celebrate the things and people you love. If you're feeling alone and have discord, feel free to join us on the #RhysDarbyFaction server tomorrow. We'll be doing a lot of group stuff to try and keep some of the love going. If you're not-- reach out to any of your crew. We're here, and we care and we want you all to be okay. Remember to lean on each other, you're all such kind, resilient, and wonderful people and kindness is what keeps this world moving in the right direction. Our crewmate @ourflagmeansfanfiction made a lovely picture that felt appropriate for tonight. You are strong, and beautiful, and we're all gonna get through this together. Night crew <3
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= Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika =
Tonight's theme is microphones!
Daily Darby Courtesy of @celluloidbroomcloset Tonight's Taika Courtesy of @agaywithcoffee
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melanieph321 · 6 months
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Ruben Dias x Reader - Remember You and Me Part 3/8
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Summary - After a traffic accident reader is left with no memory of her life with Ruben, who desperately tries to get her to remember him.
Enjoy!
You spent most days inside because your recovery required it. You still had some aches and pain in your body, let alone in your head, so taking things easy was highly recommended by your doctors. You couldn't stand it though, being trapped in the house like an animal. On top of that Ruben was leaving you. He had previously made the choice to put his career on pause. He told you that he couldn't possibly play football knowing you were in the hospital. Now that you were out it was time for him to return. Back to his old life, hoping that you would do the same.
"My assistant will come by around three o'clock to check on you. If you need something,  anything, don't be afraid to tell him and he'll get it for you."
"Okay." You nodded.
"Alright, I'll see you later tonight."
"Tonight." You confirmed.
Ruben lingered in the doorway, watching you.
"What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing, it's just..."
"What?"
"It's nothing." He muttered on his way to shut the front door.
You crossed your arms. "Ruben, if there is something you wish for me to know you should tell me."
He scratched his beard. "Fine. Usually when we say goodbye..."
"Yes?"
"Well, usually when we say goodbye you also kiss me."
You batted your eyes. "Oh."
"Obviously we won't do that now." He was quick to add. "But it's something that we usually do, like on a regular."
"I see....okay."
"Okay?"
You nodded. "If it's something that we usually do....the doctors say that old habits might help with my memory and..."
"Of course..." Ruben coughed. "Your memory."
Silence fell. It was awkward. You took a step forward. Ruben seemed hesitant at first but removed his gym bag that hung across his shoulder.
"You sure about this?" He asked, tilting his head down to look at you.
"I'm sure." You nodded. Ruben wasn't the type of guy you would usually go for, but you could definitely see the appeal in him. He was typically handsome. Well built, charming and gentle. Any girl would want to be kissed by a man like him, maybe even you.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, his breath warm against the side of your face. Ruben had gone for the kiss and to your suprise he wasn't shy about it. He sort of got lost in it and so did you. There was even some tounge in there, more from Ruben than yourself.
"I get it." You smiled. "You haven't kissed your wife in a while, no?"
He shook his head, his forhead resting against yours. "No."
You remained like that, foreheads resting against each other.
"Did you um...did you feel...or remember anything?"
You stepped back. "No. I'm sorry Ruben."
He shook his head. "It's okay. The doctors said it would come to you sooner or later."
"Right."
"I should probably..." Ruben backed away, searching for his gym bag on the floor. He draped it over his shoulder and returned to the door. "I'll see you later tonight."
"See you." You waved.
He nodded and disappeared through the door. The house fell silent as you were left behind.
What now, you asked. Whatever the doctors recommended you weren't having it. You were no animal. You were not staying at home.
You had always been a sharp and independent woman as young. Beetje stront (Little shit) your dad used to call you. The many books in your room indicated that you were even sharper than you thought. They all came from the same place, the library of the University of Manchester. Maybe that is where you were supposed to be? Maybe that's where you would find yourself again?
By foot you got as far as to the city. For some reason you remembered how to get there, but then all the traffic and busy pedestrians seemed to throw you off. You suddenly found yourself in a part of town that you didn't recognize. You tried to use your phone to navigate your way home, but the streets all looked unfamiliar and you couldn't remember the name of the street that you lived on.
"Shit."
Panicked and disoriented, you wandered the streets for hours, unsure of where you were or how to get back home. Just when you were about to give up hope, somone called your name.
"Y/N! Is that you?"
It was a woman, waving to you from across the street.
"Y/N! Oh my god, it's so good to see you!" The woman exclaimed, rushing across the traffic to hug you. "What are you doing here? Why are you all alone?"
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
The woman's expression faltered, her red lips parting in astonishment.
"I'm sorry I....Ruben told me you were out of the hospital and so I thought..."
"You know Ruben?" You asked.
"Of course I do. He and I used to...never mind. What are you doing here, are you shopping?"
"No, I'm lost and I can't find my way back home."
"I see." The woman observed you skeptically. She wore a blue dress, a long coat and a pair of high heels to go with it. She was really beautiful, you thought.
"Well let's get you back home then." She said and raised her hand to alert a taxi.
"Thank you." You said, feeling obligated to explain the situation with your memory.
The woman, who's name was Rachel, told you not to worry, or be embarrassed. "I'm a friend of Ruben's." She reassured.
"Fuck Y/N!" 
It was arpund six o'clock in the afternoon when the taxi reached the house. Ruben had already returned home from training by then.
"Where were you?" He asked. "Didn't I tell you to stay inside?" Ruben was both relieved and angry to see you. Apprently his assistant had been quick to alert him of your disappearance, forcing Ruben to leave training early. He hugged you tightly, tears of relief streaming down his face. "I was so worried about you," He said, voice shaking.
"I'm, sorry."
You didn't really understand his intense reaction to your brief disappearance.
"Rachel, I don't know how to thank you." He said, moving on to kiss the red haired woman on the cheeks.
"Well firstly you can stop being such a stranger Ruben. If I would have known that Y/N was in need of getting out more I would have taken her out myself."
"Thank you, that's very kind of you. But the doctors say that she needs to rest."
You rolled your eyes hearing Ruben talk about you, making life decisions for you.
"If you say so. Just know that I'm one call away." Rachel waved goodbye. Once she left it was just the two of you again, you, Ruben and your big house.
"I'm going to bed." You announced and disappeared upstairs.
Ruben seemed like he needed time alone to cool off. You understood his concern for you but why did he feel the need to keep you locked up? A trip to the city wouldn't kill you.
Later there was a knock on your door. It was Ruben, looking ready for bed himself.
"We need to talk." He said.
You stepped aside for him to enter what used to be his bedroom too.
"What happened today can't happen again." He said.
"What do you mean?"
"Y/N, you left the house without telling me. How was I supposed to know where you went, if you were even alright."
"I'm alright Ruben, I can take care of myself."
"No you can't." He said, raising a finger for you to stay silent and just listen to him. "You still have no memory, of me or us. You couldn't even remember the adress back to our house. I can't let you go outside knowing you might be lost somewhere, wandering the streets of Manchester. That much you must understand?"
You nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry."
He sighed, running a hand down his face. "I just don't know what I would do if somthing happened to you again."
"It won't." You reassured. Seeing him like this, all shook up. It did somthing to you. Inside.
"Come here." He said, but it was more him coming to you, holding you tight, afraid of letting go.
"I did remember something." You mumbled, from beneath the pit of his strong arms.
"You what?" Ruben let go, holding arms length instead.
You smiled. "I remembered something."
"You did, well w...what was it?"
You sat down on the foot of your bed, recalling the day. "I remember wanting to go somewhere, somewhere in the city."
Ruben knelt down before you. "Okay, do you remember where or what this place looked like?"
"Yes, I think it was a school. The school you told me where I did my research. I saw myself in a lab, measuring things."
"That's great Y/N. You're starting to get memories of your life back."
"Yes, but I think what triggered it was going outside, facing the world, you know?"
"Y/N." Ruben looked worried. "The doctors said..."
"I know what the doctors said, I was there. But what if I could leave the house two or even once a week. Would it be that bad?"
Ruben looked to contemplate. If the choice was his alone he wouldn't recommend it, but somehow he knew that the choice was yours and that he shouldn't stop you.
"Okay." He nodded. "I'll call the doctors tomorrow, ask them if it's possible. If it is, then I'll arrange for someone to take you to the University twice a...."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you." You rushed to hug him, his frame too solid to be moved by your sudden ambush. It felt good, hugging Ruben.
"You should get some sleep." He whispered, a hand stroking your head.
You tilted up to look at him. He was already looking down at you. Neither of you said anything although there was something you felt drawn to do. You rose to stand on your toes. Ruben caught you with a hand between your shoulder blades. The kiss was rushed but sensed long after your lips parted.
"Goodnight Ruben."
He smiled and backed away towards the door. "Goodnight Y/N. Sleep tight."
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benedictscanvas · 11 months
Note
omggg in my fluffy needing comfort era and i LOVE how you write jamie tartt x reader- could i make a request for jamie x chronically ill reader where he is just really supportive and loving with someone who is long-term sick? ♥️♥️
of course, my love. thank you for the kind words. i tried to make this as vague as possible so people can relate in their own ways. sending you love! <3 | gn!reader, 1.2k words, tw chronic illness & pain, language
You'd just about managed to get your hair how you wanted it to look for the evening, with minimal swearing for once. Jamie was sat on the bed waiting for you, he'd been ready for a good few minutes now, but you were still reluctant to emerge. There was a wave of pain undulating through you that you were trying to ride out in silence without alerting your boyfriend.
"Y' alright, love? No rush, I wanna be fashionably late anyways," he said from the next room, raising his voice so that it reached you through the closed door. You hardly ever closed doors around each other, so you should have known he'd be worried.
The pain wasn't dissipating, so you took a few deep breaths before stepping out into the bedroom with a smile that you hoped was normal.
"Sorry, my hair wasn't co-operating," you say, tilting your head as you take him in. Navy trousers, white shirt, brown jacket. He looked effortlessly gorgeous, even if he had one more button undone than you would have suggested. Some things didn't change, "You look so good, Jamie."
"Me?" he said incredulously, standing up and huffing out a breath of disbelief, "You look...fuck. I'm not good enough with me words for this."
His hands gesture aimlessly down your outfit and you feel a real smile blossoming under his attention. You take his hands in yours and place them on your waist, stopping his flapping from going further.
"I like your words just fine. And your face," you add with a grin that he returns, curling his fingers into the fabric he's found. A new wave of pain crests and you try your hardest to keep it off your face, but don't think about how your body must tense under his touch. His whole face crumples.
"Ah shit," he murmurs, running his hands down your arms to interlace your fingers together as he takes a step closer, "Why didn't y' say anythin' babe?"
"About what?" you ask pathetically, watching him fix you with a look that said 'cut the shit'.
"Cut the shit," he said, clearly deciding the look wasn't enough, "We agreed, babe, you tell me if it's a bad day so I can help. Or at least try to. Thought we were in a good place with it."
Your heart aches. He really does hate it when you keep your pain to yourself, even though you're not sure he yet understands just how much pain you would be sharing if you shared all of it. You'd been dating for six months, but still wanted to be careful not to scare him off.
"I am. I promise, Jamie, I do tell you it's just..." you struggle for a good explanation that doesn't create any pity in him, "Tonight's big, you know? I want to be a proper girlfriend and I want to burst into tears and kiss you stupid when they call your name for that award."
There is a little bit of pity in his eyes when you've finished, so you can't have done a very good job of it. He squeezes your hands tightly in his.
"Can't say it many more ways," he says softly, "But y' gotta believe that you are me priority, gorgeous. Jus' wanna look after you, y' know. I wanna be a proper boyfriend too."
You'd never thought about it that way. Another wave of pain hits and Jamie's instantly stroking your temple when your eyes clench shut. You feel his lips on the opposite side of your head as he whispers sweet little comforts in your ear.
If it wasn't so painful, maybe you'd be more willing to argue the point with him. It would have to be a battle saved for later, because lying down was the only option for the moment. You could feel the sting of tears; it couldn't have been a worse time for a flare up.
"I'll be there for every other award you win," you say forcefully, but you can't bring yourself to promise. Sometimes you worry you can't promise him enough, but then you see the way he looks at you as he leans backwards again and a lot of that worry falls away.
"You're way too sure that I'm winnin' this award, by the way," he says, a little bashful. It was one of your favourite versions of him, "I'm up against quality."
"None of that. The most creative player in the league this season was you. Hands down. I think you know that really."
He nods, but doesn't look sure still. Then he's stepping away from you as he shrugs off his jacket, throwing it onto the back of a chair and flopping down on the bed.
"Come on then, love. We can fit in a quick episode of whatever you want before the ceremony's on TV."
You stare at him.
"What?"
"Well I'm not fuckin' going without you," he laughs, like that was never an option, "Duh. I'd be bored shitless. I know you need to lie down, babe, come on."
He holds out a hand to you. You take it, still dazed by the sudden turn of events, let him pull you onto the bed and into his arms on top of the covers.
"There we are," he breathes, pressing kisses into the top of your head, "Perfect. We'll have a much better evening bein' able to laugh at Roy makin' a fool of himself for the cameras from 'ere, right?"
Coming back to your senses, you pull yourself out of his arms for a moment so you can look at him properly. He's been acting normal up until now, but when he sees the tears in your eyes, his whole face softens.
"Let's not argue right now, love, please," he begs, "Wanna take care of you, so jus' let me. We can talk about it tomorrow."
"Your award..." you choke out, but he shushes you.
"Will be waitin' for me at the club tomorrow. Me speech would have been fucked anyway, so there's nothin' to miss out on."
There's no room for argument in his voice. It's as firm as it is comforting. Relenting as the pain hits once again, you snuggle back into his arms, kissing whatever parts of him you can reach.
"Like my guardian angel," you say, trying not to sound so teary, "So grateful for you, Jamie. Love you so so much."
"Yeah, yeah, love you too," he says, brushing you off as you expected but with fondness in his tone as he pulls you even closer.
"Hey...you just said the award would be waiting. You're finally admitting that you're definitely getting it?"
He chuckles.
"Course I'm getting it. That award's mine, babe," he says, cocky smirk firmly on his face that you can only see in the reflection of the TV. Then he gasps, comically, "Do y' think they'll make Roy do me speech?"
You gasp right back, already feeling better.
"Yes! If you put it on now, we might be able to see him flip people off on the red carpet beforehand."
Jamie grins as he struggles to reach the remote and turns the TV on.
"Fuckin' genius, you are."
---
please see this post if you would like to request your own roy/jamie drabble!! closing soon <3
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toomuchracket · 7 months
Text
stress relief (sweetheart!george x reader fluff)
first george fic, who cheered?! day 8 of promptober. a weird little (well, long) fluffy end of high school moment about exam stress, and hitting things and smoking weed and kissing your new boyfriend to make you feel better. i've absolutely not a clue what came over me while i wrote this. but i think it's fun. and i hope you lot do too! <3
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you're stomping down the street towards your house when your phone rings. digging it out of your bag, your grumpiness ebbs slightly when you see it's george on the other end of the line. "hiya."
"hi, baby," comes the gravelly reply. george's voice is enough to send you into a fit of enamoured giggles anyway, but hearing him address you with the pet name - a recent development, a free add-on that came with the "girlfriend" title during the summer - has you practically skipping down the street. "how'd it go?"
the reminder of the horrible mock exam almost threatens to block out the enjoyment of talking to george, a black cloud over the sun. "fucking awful."
"doubt that," george replies. there's a shuffling sound in the background on his end; you know, even without seeing him, that he's moved to lean his elbow on something so he can adjust the phone and listen to you better. "but tell me all about it."
"it was just… bad. the questions were all worded so weirdly. felt so fucking thick trying to read them, g," you sigh, kicking at a stone on the pavement. "so obviously i've no idea if i answered anything correctly, because i couldn't fucking understand what they were actually asking, and if i don't pass this then i don't get to sit the actual exam, and then i've got no bloody chance of getting into uni."
your voice breaks on the final word, and so does the invisible dam keeping your tears in. despite doing your best to keep any sobs at bay, george immediately clocks that you're crying and goes into reassurance mode. "baby…"
"it's fine, i'm fine," you sniffle. "sorry, i know i'm being silly. how are you?"
"worried about you, angel. i don't like how stressed out this exam's made you feel, recently," george admits. "and i'm not letting you dwell on it from this point on, alright?"
"babe…"
"you answered every question, i take it?"
you frown. "i mean, yeah, but-"
"no buts, baby," george's voice is firm; it does something weird to your brain. that's new. "you answered every question in the paper to the best of your ability. don't try and argue with me on that one, angel. i know you did, because you never half-arse anything, and it's one of the things i lo-like most about you. and there's nothing more you can do about the exam, so there's no point dwelling on it, even if it was as shit as you say. yeah?"
you sigh. "yeah. you're right."
"i know i am," george's voice is smug, but it softens as he continues. "wish i was there to give you a hug right now, though, make you feel better."
"me too," you say wistfully, unlocking your front door and shrugging off your jacket before heading upstairs. "but i'll get one off you at the party tonight. or several. actually, i might not even let go of you the whole time."
you flop onto your bed, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs in the air as george laughs and says "i'm not gonna complain about that, babe. speaking of the party, what d'you want? matty's picking up in a bit."
"are you smoking?"
"was gonna, yeah. want some?"
"please."
"sweet. he says he's already got wine if you want it, too, but he'll get you vodka if you'd rather have that."
"no, wine's good," you say. "thank him for me, please, and tell him i'll pay him back later."
george laughs. "i've got you covered, babe."
you facepalm. "george."
"what? you've had a hard day. let me treat you."
there’s silence for a brief moment, as you ponder and then decide against debating with your boyfriend (even thinking about calling george that makes you smile); as stubborn as you are, george is ten times worse. if this was an in-person debate, a strategically-timed pout would give you the upper hand, but you'll never wear him down via phone.
"fine," you sigh dramatically. "thank you, babe. but you have to accept petrol money from me tonight."
"not a fucking chance. i have to drive past your house to get to matty's, anyway. he should be the one paying me."
you laugh. "if you're sure, babe. i'll get you back sometime, though."
"actually, there is something you could do for me tonight, if you wouldn't mind," george says slowly, voice deepening even more than usual. it sends goosebumps down your arms, and any and all sanity out of your head. "you could wear that top you bought at the weekend."
"the black one?"
"yeah," george's voice changes again; you can hear him blushing. "you looked really beautiful in it."
(his reaction when you'd opened the fitting room door last week had made you aware of that thought of his, but it's far nicer hearing him say it.)
"consider it done," you smile. "what time should i be ready for?"
"six? then we have time to get a maccies on the way."
"you do know the way to a girl's heart, george daniel."
george laughs. your heart flutters. "alright, baby. i'll see you in a couple of hours."
"looking forward to it," you smile, clicking your phone off. the goodbye feels unfinished, you think; the three other words you're too nervous to say to george seem to linger expectantly in your throat every time you talk to him, just waiting to be released from your lips to his ears. it's only been three months since you started labelling the relationship, but there were three of "dating" beforehand (following a two-sided drunken confession at matty's eighteenth), and another eight of crushing and pining preceding that - you know exactly how you feel about him. you just don't know when to tell him.
you nearly do, though, when he picks you up for the party later that night. after chucking your overnight bag in the backseat, you climb into the passenger seat and are immediately pulled into an absolute head-melter of a kiss.
george smiles as he pulls back from you. "hi, baby. you wore the top, i see."
"course i did," you grin in response. "have to keep up with you, don't i, gorgeous?"
"oh, shush," george shakes his head, cheeks pink. "right, let's get you some nuggets."
you clap, and your boyfriend laughs, a sound that continues from both of you as you make your way through the drive-thru and then to matty's. in between giggles and singalongs to the blink-182 album in the cd player, you feed george chips and chicken nuggets, the friday evening traffic stopping the two of you from being able to park and eat your dinner and still make it to the party on time. the vibe is in total contrast to your frustrated tears from earlier; now, doing shitty tom delonge impressions with your favourite boy in the world, you're ridiculously happy.
after parking outside matty's house, george turns to you before either of you can get out of the car. "listen, baby," he says softly, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. "i know it's been a bit of a day for you, and i just want you to be alright - if you wanna go home at any point, tell me, yeah?"
your heart swells a little at his tenderness. you nod, pouting your lips slightly. "kiss?"
"gladly," george grins, lips on yours within seconds. like earlier, this kiss makes your head spin. 
unlike earlier, however, it isn't ended by either you or george pulling away; the two of you are so distracted by each other that you don't hear adam walking across the gravel towards the car. it isn't until he opens the passenger door that you pull away from george in fright, and then he speaks. "matty says no snogging in the driveway."
"tell him i'll do it in his fucking bedroom and see what he says then," george snaps. he kisses your hand. "sorry, baby."
"s'fine. hi, adam," you say, turning to your friend. "how are you?"
"betrayed, actually - you got a maccies and didn't ask if i wanted anything?"
"leave her alone, hann," george says, walking round to grab your bag and usher you out of the car. "she's had a stressful day."
"well, you're in luck, mate - oh, cheers," adam pulls you into a half hug as you pass him your final chicken nugget, and the boys lead you into the house. "matty found an unused piñata in the garage, so you can beat the shit out of that if it'll make you feel better."
"he just… found a piñata? just happened across it?" you ask, mildly bewildered (it's matty, after all), at the exact same time george ponders "what's he put in it?"
"he just found it, yeah. i don't know either," adam shrugs. "and he's literally put joints in it. no sweets. just weed."
interesting.
george nearly pisses himself laughing, while you, as is your wont, ask a sensible question. "won't the force of the hits knock the joints apart, though? like, genius idea to put them there in theory, but will it work?"
"only one way to find out, i s'pose, baby" george says. "here, let me put your bag upstairs. i'll meet you in the garden in a minute, yeah?"
your boyfriend kisses you quickly and hurries upstairs, while you follow adam out to the garden, stopping briefly to hug some of your friends hello. only ross and matty are outside, the former reaching up to attach a unicorn piñata to a tree branch while the latter shouts orders at him. "fucksake, ross, that's far too high!"
"he's right, unfortunately, ross," you chip in, wandering over towards them and slinging an arm round matty's shoulders. "do you really want either of us jumping with a potential weapon in our hands?"
"he already is a potential weapon," comes the grumbling from under the branch.
"taking that as a compliment, actually," matty shouts, steering you away from the tree and hugging you. "hi, darling. where's g?"
"stashing my handbag for me."
"ok, good, because i have news and you're the only person i can tell," matty spins to face you, inhaling deeply and clasping his hands together. "i think i'm in love."
"ok?" you put your hands on your hips, underwhelmed. "you've already told me this, remember? last month?"
"different person. that wasn't real, this is."
"right. and you're only telling me because…?"
"well, it's someone like you i think i'm in love with."
"a girl?" you smirk. "i guessed as much, mate."
"smartarse," matty huffs. "no. i mean, like, she's proper smart. and serious about it. she wants to study law at uni. i'm totally intimidated by her, but i fancy her so much."
he stares at you expectantly. you stare just as blankly back. "and?"
"and i need your help," matty all but wails. "how do i make her like me?"
bless him. you smile. "well, you're in a band. that helps."
"really? even for pulling geniuses like you and her?"
"not to be dramatic, but that day i walked into the music room to tell you lot to shut up and saw george drumming to brianstorm? life-changing," you blush. matty smiles, genuinely. "but also, just don't be a gobshite, yeah? you actually being quite sensitive is unexpected, and it's nice. really."
"ok. thanks, mate," matty pulls you into a quick hug. "i wish she was coming tonight. be a lot more fun."
"we literally have a weed-filled piñata. we're peaking with fun."
he laughs. "true. and i did only meet her today."
you raise your eyebrows. "wait - on the set of your mum's show? have you told denise?"
"do i look like an idiot? actually," matty shakes his head. "don't answer that. no need to tell me."
"tell you what?" george wanders over to the pair of you, hugging matty and pecking you on the lips. "what are you two gossiping about?"
"what we're buying you for christmas," you say smoothly. "and how amazing a gift i'm now obligated to get you, because you won't let me pay for my own bloody weed."
the boys laugh, and george kisses you on the head. "speaking of, ross thinks he's perfected the piñata height. fancy a bit of stress relief?"
"ew, george, not in my house," matty faux-retches, then grins. "kidding. come on, lovebirds, let's beat the shit out of a unicorn and get stoned."
"and other normal sentences he's said today," george murmurs in your ear, making you giggle as you follow your friend towards the tree.
as you near it, ross holds a cricket bat out to you. "heard you were feeling stressed. have at it, mate."
"thanks, ross," you take the wooden stick, turning it over in your hands before turning to look at the host incredulously. "who the fuck in your family plays cricket?"
"how should i know?" comes matty’s equally-incredulous reply. "just hit the horse, please, i need a fucking zoot."
"fine. here goes," you say. "actually, shouldn't we put something on the ground to catch the joints?"
"good point. here," george pulls off his hoodie and throws it on the grass; you're momentarily distracted by his biceps through his long-sleeved t-shirt. "give it hell, baby."
you smirk, closing your eyes and thinking of the awful exam paper from earlier. all the frustration and stress hits your nervous system like a tidal wave; practically vibrating with rage, you swing the bat and hit the papier-mache before you with a satisfying thwack, denting it. the boys cheer, and it spurs you on even more - within minutes, you've beaten the unicorn to a pulp, its contraband insides (mostly) intact on your boyfriend's hoodie, and your insides the most stress-free they've been in a long time.
breathless, you hand the bat back to a wide-eyed ross, who claps you on the back. "impressive, actually."
"thank you," you bow, the boys laughing as they scramble to pick up the joints. george grabs two for each of you and your hand simultaneously, leading you towards the cushioned loungers near the kitchen window.
he sits first, settling you gently on his lap before pulling a lighter from his pocket. you're suddenly extremely aware of the chilly october evening air, and shuffle around so you can half-lean against george's hard chest; you gaze up at him, all sharp jaw and heavy eyes with the joint between his lips. "is this ok?"
"s'perfect, baby," george smiles, hand tracing patterns against the outside of your thigh. he lifts it, though, to take the joint out of his mouth. "you wanna go first?"
you shake your head. george smoking is an incredibly sexy sight; you want a clear head the first time you see it tonight. the flickering flame sharpens his cheekbones in the most beautiful way as he lights the joint, and the way he draws them in as he inhales it is nothing short of stunning. but nothing compares to the way he exhales the smoke, head thrown back in pleasure and faint moans escaping his lips - your thighs clench ever so slightly as he does, which isn't helped by the way he looks at you as he passes you the weed.
he doesn't seem to fare any better while you smoke, though; your eyes close in contentment when the inhale hits your airways (and a little groan of satisfaction involuntarily leaves you), but you open them to find george biting his lip while he watches yours.
it gives you an idea. passing the joint back, you ask a favour of your boyfriend. "will you shotgun me, please?"
george hums happily. "absolutely, baby."
you shuffle so you're sitting directly on his lap, facing him. whether it's the crispness of the night or the weed or just george himself, you don't know, but you're more aware of this particular bodily position than ever before. there's an energy you can't quite describe crackling in the night air - anticipation, maybe.
whatever it is, you like it.
"ready?" george asks, joint halfway to his lips. you nod, loosely clasping your hands at the nape of his neck and leaning forward. he inhales, your mouth opens, he exhales, and you do your best to take in as much of the smoke as you can. 
even though you've been smoking properly for a little while now, the best highs are always the ones you share with george; he seems to intoxicate you more than the drug does. given how much longer he's been smoking, you'd be forgiven for thinking that he doesn't feel the same way, but the speed with which he quickly lays the joint in a nearby ashtray (thank fuck the healys are a family of smokers, by the way) and crashes his lips to yours suggests otherwise. the crackling in the air ceases, but seems to find a new home in your body; sparks seem to fly from your lips to your brain, overloading the organ until all you can think is george, george, george.
yeah, you love him all right.
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ghostykapi · 1 year
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lover’s rock
chou tzuyu & fem!reader // fluff
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it's no secret that you like someone for a while. the paper cuts on your hands were always evident, your eyes straying to a certain direction during a very particular class, the flushed face you sport every time you're asked who this mystery person is.
"it's someone" you cheekily reply each time despite the red hue on your face "someone lovely"
only a few people know who it is, considering they see the flowers right outside their apartment each day. going through every flower you can think of that relates to her in different colors. frankly it's even a bit bold of you to do that, knowing it could be directed to any of them, but you don't fail to let those flowers come by with a note every time. each note having her initials on the upper right on each scented note
even on weekends where exams loom by, you add in small snacks with the flowers with extra notes that you leave your special stamps in. it's even more puzzling on how you aren't caught yet when you're one of the few people who take up that business course that has an avid obsessions with stamps and wax seals. they kill your wallet enough that you sometimes resort to cup noodles on some nights.
tonight is no different, your hands familiar with the folding of paper and your eyes focused in on your work. the pens and paper for the note set aside for later, and the flowery sent of your perfume lingering already on the papers.
it barely takes you 15 minutes and your done with all of it, only having to wait for the stamp of the butterfly to dry out on the paper. a classic violet donned in different shades, accompanied with a lavender colored note.
satisfied, you tuck it in neatly in your bag for tomorrow and get ready for bed. it's only halfway through your nightly routine that your dormmate barges in with the loudest voice she can, startling you out of your mind
"YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT SOMEONE JUST HANDED TO ME" your certified best friend of a roommate, shin ryuin, is someone who you trust with your life. maybe just not tonight
"i would if you can calm down" you look at her hands, eyes stilling at the box she's holding "what's that?"
"i don't know" ryu grins, like she's found the greatest answer to how to do that project that's been burning her braincells to dust "but it was just outside our room. in a box full of goodies. just for you"
"just for me?" you ask, confused to why it would be to you
"duh, i mean just look at it" she turns the box around, showing the neat handwriting of 'to my sweetheart, y/n'. "it literally says your name"
inside the box is a bunch of books you were eyeing for months and those snacks you've been craving for so long, leaving you shocked at how personal and well thought of these gifts were
"wait" you look up at her shit eating grin, baffled by the situation "you said someone just handed it over to you?"
"yeah nayeon unnie just gave it to me, whining about how she's become the delivery person" ryujin laughs as your brain tries to connect the dots "i mean, sure she's old but if she starts complaining about that more then i'm sure her back must be sad"
"if she hears you then you're dead" you sigh, a bit dejectedly but mostly out of fondness "well i have to sleep early tonight, got another essay to cram at the library"
"sure you do" ryujin knows your route every morning by now, and all the reasons behind it
before you sleep however, you stare at the box for a good while, along with the note accompanied with it. her neat handwriting starting to burn into your eyes as you reread every word that it has.
‘come early sometime. i'll make you that coffee you always like’
you think about it on the way to her apartment. you think about it as you hold the package on your hands. you think about it as you hold the flower, standing right in front of the apartment door
and yet, even if the note is burnt into your mind, you can’t help but not knock on the door. you just can’t go though with it. everyday you go though this same routine and yet
you can’t go through with it. you can’t break it off and confess to her
why?
is it the fear? the fear that plagues your mind when you see her reflect every person in campus? is it the fear that drinks your soul every night when you see her look somewhere else, maybe at someone you refuse to even see
is it the fear of not being chosen?
"wait!"
the door open before you can even walk away. standing there in all of her glory is chou tzuyu, still dressed in her cute pajamas, her doggies beside her.
"wait" she calls out to you and suddenly you're shy, you didn't think that it would be this soon that she catches you
let's face it though if she wanted to, she could have confronted you after a week of that.
"don't go" tzuyu whispers, holding onto your hands, even if you’re holding all the things she’s been looking for “i just got to you”
“well” you start, even if you don’t trust your own voice, because you don’t trust that you can talk to her after you leave “i was just about to knock”
“sure” she knows better, and you know she knows “and i know you’re just in time for coffee”
your eyes stare back at hers and maybe you wonder if you really do trust yourself not to be a fool
“i don’t know” you look down, shoes pointing to each other despite your straight posture “do you really want to have a morning with me?”
“of course i do” she says, shocked and a bit offended with the way “is what you think of yourself?”
“no!” you blurt out, ready to let the earth swallow you whole “i mean-like-i just think that-well i always think about this-that you deserve the best and i’m not the best but i want to give you the best-because then again i’m not the best-“
“you don’t have to be” she grabs you by the shoulders, cutting you off. you can see how she’s getting closer to you, and how you’re immobilized to your sport as her fur babies circle around you
“you always give me paper flowers every morning” tzuyu looks down at the flower you’re holding “paper flowers that never left my room, paper flowers that can mean something, paper flowers that you never fail to deliver since we became classmates since the start of this semester”
you’re breathless as she gently takes it away from you. the sparks dancing around you both finally meet at her fingers that brush against yours, making you feel electrified with butterflies
“you don’t ask for a lot too even if i’m running out of places to put your flowers” she continues “just always a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ and it’s never ever anything that makes me feel uncomfortable. you always smile and encourage me in class, never asking because i know it’s hard. i know it’s scary to ever even try to ask a simple question”
“tzuyu” you wonder how much you can take it anymore, but it seems you don’t even have to ever take the plunge that drives you crazy when someone you always love asks-
“so i’ll do it” tzuyu softly confesses to you, as the red string of your hearts pull together, as the timer on your wrists ticks down to zero, as the color seeps in back into the world around you, as the petals stop flowing out of your mouths, as the scribbles on your arms match forever and ever
“i’ve loved you since you gave me that first flower, so be my girlfriend?”
maybe it’s everything that finally clicks together but chou tzuyu can confidently say that she was over the whole galaxy when you give up and give her the kiss that truly wakes her up that morning.
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spenzitz · 1 year
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VALENTINE'S DAY (chuya edition)
chuya takes valentine's day very seriously. chuya x gn!reader, established relationship, chuya spoils reader,
a/n ~ my first time writing for chuya i'm so sorry... words ~ 1.8k second post for my valentine's day collection ( ๑>ᴗ<๑ )
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chuya absolutely loves valentine's day. he loves having any excuse to spoil you rotten. by the time february 1st rolls around, he already has everything planned and dinner reserved at 3 restaurants in case anything were to go wrong.
unfortunately for him, his schedule as a mafia executive stops him from being able to spend the whole day with you. but don't worry, he'll more than makeup for it this evening.
9 am, february 14th, you find yourself strolling through port mafia hq, on your way to meet up with the black lizard for the day. seemingly by coincidence, you run into your lovely boyfriend, chuya. well... it's more that he runs into you.
"y/n! you're not even gonna say hello?" you hear his iconic, smug voice call out from behind you. you must have walked right past him. you turn around and scan your eyes through the crowd of nameless pawns until your eyes land on that stupid fucking hat. everyone moves aside as chuya makes his way to you, making you aware of all the eyes staring directly at you and him as he comes closer.
"hello," you say, giggling, unable to contain your wide smile. he comes much closer than he should need to and grabs your right hand, encasing it with both of his. "happy valentine's day, love." he says, barely audible, just loud enough for you to hear it.
chuya has this way of looking at you that makes you feel like you're the finest treasure in yokohama. you look away from him, still smiling uncontrollably, and start pulling on your clothes with your left hand. the butterflies he gives you, doing no favors to help your nerves.
most people have looked away by now, taking chuya's low tone as a sign of desired privacy. the exception, of course, is the black lizard who has all huddled together, everyone either cooing or scoffing at their boss's public display.
"yes, well, happy valentine's day, chuya..." you say, whispering. he finds it cute how bashful you are even after being with him for so long. you still have pride, he supposes.
"i've gotta run, and i think you do too..." he starts, nodding at your team, staring at the two of you. you turn to face them and feel the blood rush to your face upon seeing their mixed reactions, immediately looking back at chuya. "but i'll pick you up tonight at 6, how's that sound?" he asks, but it's not really a question, so you don't answer. you simply nod your head and look down at your hand as he removes one of his.
"see ya later, hun," he adds as he brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses it. he's still smiling as he turns around and walks away, leaving you dizzy, and light-headed like you've worked a night shift. every moment with him feel like a fantasy.
a fantasy that is swiftly broken by the sound of tachihara's boyish voice. "you done swooning over mr. nakahara, or should we give you more time?" the thought of all your closest colleges watching that unfold makes you cringe. you roll your eyes and turn around, facing them all, just watching you.
"yeah, yeah, i'm ready. let's get on with it." today was going to be a long day.
you all get done for the day around 4:30. that leaves you with an hour and a half to get ready. around an hour of that time is spent on and off scrolling on your phone, and picking out what to wear. after much deliberation you go with red accents, his favorite. the last thirty minutes are spent scrambling to take a shower and get ready.
you suppose you look alright, you conclude as you look in the full-length mirror. you start fidgeting with your clothes when you hear your doorbell ring through your flat. you rush to put on your shoes and turn out the lights as you make your way to the door.
"hey!" you say, leaning on the door, cramming your shoe onto your foot. when you get your shoe on, you finally look at him, regaining your balance. he has on his nicest suit, and, no doubt, shoes. he's brought his hat to his chest as he looks at you with a smug grin and pure adoration.
"well, you clean up nice, don't ya, hun?" you chuckle as you shuffle out your door, locking it behind you. "and i suppose the same can be said for you, executive." you can't help but smile back at him.
putting his hat back on, he holds out his arm as you walk side by side. you instinctually loop your arm through his. it just feels like home. he likes how possessive you seem when you grip his arm as if it belongs to you. it does, he thinks. he belongs to you.
he walks you down to the street side where a car is waiting for you and him. a port mafia driver, no doubt. chuya strides ahead of you and opens the car door. "no bike?" you ask, somewhat relieved as you climb in the car.
chuya steps in behind you, "yeah, i know how nervous you get when i'm riding after dark." he says, laughing a little as he closes the car door. you smile and let out a sigh. in this moment, you are content.
the car starts moving, and he grabs your hand absentmindedly, playing with your fingers as he stares out the window, looking at nothing in particular. his nerves must finally be kicking in.
you notice his sudden fidgeting, but you know if you ask now, in front of the driver, he'll deny it. "so, where are we going?" you ask, squeezing his hand to grab his attention. he looks at you and just smirks. "you know what?" he starts, looking back out the window. "i think i'll let it be a surprise." he chuckles as you groan, impatiently wondering where he was taking you.
you don't have to wait long as it's barely a 5-minute drive to your destination. the driver pulls up to the front of a restaurant, and the valet opens chuya's door. once chuya is out, he ducks down and extends his hand to you, helping you out of the car.
when you get out of the car and see the entrance, it seems... familiar? you've definitely been here before, you think. chuya takes your hand and leads you through the glass doors held open by employees.
as chuya speaks to the hostess, you observe the beautiful chandeliers and baby grand piano accompanied by a live band playing smooth jazz. it hits you.
chuya is still holding your hand as he tugs you along, following the hostess to your table. "oh my god, chu!" you say, trying to keep your voice down through your excitement. "we had our first date here!"
"took you long enough," he says, glancing back at you and rolling his eyes with a smile.
the hostess leads you out to a table on the balcony, and chuya pulls out your chair for you. as you both sit down and look at the menu, you take in how serene it is outside. everyone seated on the balcony is speaking in a low voice, and you can still hear the soft music playing over idle chatter from inside.
dinner goes well as you both order steaks (chuya's favorite) and slowly nurse some red wine. he tells you about his day, annoyed by all his executive responsibilities. you tell him about how busy you were, and how the black lizard always left you tired and feeling like just another cog in the port mafia machine. a glorified pawn. you start to think how chuya is probably the biggest reason you stay anyway. although you admit, the pay is pretty good, but the work is hard.
your conversation pauses as the waiter comes up and asks if you two would like anything else. you expect chuya to say, "no, we're all done." as he always does. but tonight, chuya actually adds dessert to your order. a slice of cheesecake to share between the two of you. odd, you think. but, mayb chuya was left hungry from his meal, it wouldn't be the first time.
as you continue your conversation, droning on and on about your busy day, you notice chuya is fidgeting again, bouncing his leg under the table, thrumming his fingers. you know he's listening, but he's looking off into the background of the city lights. there's something bothering him. maybe something about work he can't tell you about?
you decide to keep talking, but you grab his hands with yours, grounding him. he looks up at you. now, he's definitely not listening to a word you say. just watching you with a dumb, probably tipsy smile. he can do it, he tells himself.
after a bit, the cheesecake comes, looking amazing. you suddenly feel you have all the room in the world for dessert as you quickly grab your fork and go to take a piece of it. however, before you can, chuya pulls the plate towards him, making you miss it entirely. you look up at him, confused and kinda annoyed.
"actually," he starts, smirking at you with a tint of pink on his face. "i thought we could have this to celebrate," he says.
"celebrate... what?" you ask, slightly scared you missed some big win of his. he sees the panic on your face and decides not to tease you. he stands up from his seat and places his hat on the table.
"well.... hopefully..." he murmurs as he stands beside the table, facing you. he slowly reaches into his pocket and takes out a little velvet box. your eyes widen as he gets on one knee and opens the box, looking up at you.
"our engagement?" he bites the inside of his lip, smiling at you. the whole balcony is silent as everyone watches you and him. your eyes dart around, from his face to the classy ring on display in front of you.
you honestly have no idea what to say. you sit there for a moment before getting out of your chair to kneel down with him. you bring both your hands up to cradle his face and lightly caress his cheek with your thumb. you nod your head, and the whole balcony erupts into quiet applause.
you pull him towards you and kiss him, long and hard. you can still taste the wine even on his lips, plain as day. you pull back only to drop your hands to his shoulders and embrace him. you hold him. he's not shaking anymore. in this moment, he's content.
"is that a yes?" he whispers, still cocky as ever.
you let him slip the ring onto your finger and sigh, gazing at it.
"i suppose it is."
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god i want chuya to be my fiancé. fiancé chuya headcanons anyone? (-_-)ゞ
masterlist
requests are open!
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sissylittlefeather · 9 months
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Would you do like a soulmate au between Elvis x fem!reader? Like maybe where the reader dreams of a man who plays her music and would sing to her, but would not reveal his name or where he is located. The two end up meeting when the reader ends up at one of Elvis’ shows. He looks out to the audience and their eyes meet. Both the reader and Elvis start crying since they finally found each other. After the show, the reader is in shock after what she just witnessed. Then Elvis comes out to see her and just envelopes her in a hug. Then from there it can end in a smut, but a fluffy and very romantic one (if that makes sense 😂). Then they just fall in love and end up together. Sorry this was long I just thought this would be an interesting take on a romance story.
Hey! I'm sorry this one took me so long. I think I rewrote the ending like 15 times 🤪. I hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing this one, even though it's a little different for me. Enjoy!
Warnings: 18+ no minors, oral sex (f & m receiving), f/m p in v sex, unprotected sex, kissing, fingering, cussing, etc
A/N: I used an AB!Elvis gif because it's the right scene and an Elvis gif because he's just delicious.
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Dream a Little Dream of Me
You sit straight up in bed and look at the clock on your nightstand. 2am. You're exhausted, but going back to sleep will be difficult. You had the dream again. You've been having the same dream every night for weeks. Each time it's a little longer and you learn something new about him. The first dream was all flashes of pink and black. Since then, you've added blue eyes, full lips, strong hands, a guitar, and him singing to you, among other things. You don't know who he is, but you know he's someone important to you. The feeling you get in your stomach and chest when you wake up makes it abundantly clear that this is more than just a regular dream. Still, you've never gotten any indication of who he is or where you could find him. You're pretty confident he exists. You're not sure why, but you seem to know he's real. Still, you've never encountered anyone or anything that could point you to him.
"Did you have that weird dream again?" Your roommate asks sleepily. She's the only person you've told about the dreams, mainly because she's in the room when you wake up in the night.
"Yeah, but I'm okay. Go back to sleep, Janet." She rolls over and grunts. Must be nice to sleep so easily. You lay back down on your pillow, but every time you close your eyes, all you see are the flashes of him. You're starting to get very tired of this weird longing that you have for him, like you're incomplete without him. Part of you wants to go back to sleep to see more of him in the dream and another part of you wishes you'd never have the dream again. Still, if you could find him, then it would all make sense. You drift off to sleep with his voice in your head...
******
The next day, you drag yourself out of bed and groggily get ready for class. Every time you close your eyes you get another flash of the dream: white teeth, black hair, a microphone, more music, and always his voice. Once you've gotten yourself presentable in a pink and white striped cotton dress and cardigan, you grab your books and bag and head out the door. Janet stops you before you can get all the way through it by yelling from her side of the room, "Don't forget we're going to that show tonight at the carnival!"
Oh yeah, that. "I didn't forget! I'll see you later!"
You head to class and spend the rest of the day trying to focus on anything other than his voice in your head. Why do you miss him when you're awake? It doesn't make any sense...
******
"You can't just wear that. You at least need to take off the cardigan and add some lipstick or something." Janet pleads as you get ready for the carnival together. You don't know why it matters what you're wearing, but you oblige and toss the cardigan on your bed. You're not going to mess with lipstick, though. It's too hot and you don't want to have to reapply it.
"There. Can we go now?" Janet nods her head up and down excitedly. You really would rather stay home and think about the dream. If you could just see his whole face all at once, maybe you could find him somewhere. Something in you tells you that he's close right now. Like if you walked around a bit, you might run into him. But that feels ridiculous. It's just a dream, right?
******
You're sitting next to Janet, sweat from the warm evening making your skin sticky, when they announce the next act will be someone called Elvis Presley. Some of the girls start screaming and run towards the stage. You and Janet look at each other and decide to make your way to the front together. Whoever this guy is, he must be a big deal, and you're not one to miss out on an experience, especially when it comes to music. You press in against the crowd so that you can see the stage from where you're standing. This "Elvis" finally makes his way to the mic in the middle of the stage and your heart absolutely stops.
It's him.
The pink jacket, the guitar, the black hair and blue eyes and full lips and big hands. You feel like you might hyperventilate and the pressure of the crowd around you doesn't help. Your heart is beating so fast you feel like it might jump right out of your chest.
As you watch him, it seems like he's nervous and a little disoriented too. For the first time, you wonder if maybe he's dreamed about you. No. That's just silly. But here he is. He's real and he's right in front of you. And he looks like he could use a little reassurance. You're filled with the urge to go to him, but he's on stage in front of all these screaming girls.
He takes a deep breath and starts to sing. If there were any doubts before about whether or not he was the one, they're gone now. You'd recognize that voice even if you were half dead. Something inside you feels like it's taken flight and the joy and excitement are overwhelming. He keeps singing and the sound of his voice hits you in places you didn't expect. As he's singing, he looks out at the crowd. His eyes seem to be searching for something. Your heart skips, thinking that maybe he's looking for you. And then it happens.
His eyes lock onto yours.
A deep contentment settles in your chest like a sigh and you feel a lump form in your throat. The tears gather in your eyes and start to slide down your face. He tries to look away but he always comes back to you and you notice his eyes seem a little watery too. He looks up at the ceiling and tries to refocus on what he's doing. You know he's feeling what you're feeling.
"Y/n, are you crying? Are you okay?" You hear Janet holler at you. You sniff and wipe your face.
"Yeah, I'm just... it's just... Janet, it's him." At first Janet has a blank look, then it turns to shock, and then relief.
"Oh! That makes so much sense! You probably saw him on a poster or something somewhere and started dreaming about him! I mean, I'll probably dream about him too after this!" You know that's not what happened; it's so much more than that. But it's not worth it to try to explain it to her, so you just nod your head and look back up to the stage. He catches your eye again and this time he winks playfully. Your whole body turns hot and you're filled with a need for him to touch you. The show continues and you spend most of it bouncing between figuring out how to get to him afterwards and trying not to cry when you make eye contact while he sings. Every girl around you shrieks that he's looking at her, but you know better. That look is just for you. You have to find a way to get backstage...
******
After the show ends, you walk out with Janet, but you want to find a way to ditch her. Your body feels like it's in shock from what just happened while he was on stage. It still doesn't seem quite real that you actually found the man you've been seeing in your dreams all this time. But how do you get to him?
"Are you ready to go?" Janet asks. She can tell you're lingering.
"Umm, no, I think I want to stick around for a bit. You can go ahead. I'll be fine." The carnival is within walking distance of campus, so you know you can get home okay. Walking alone at night makes you a little nervous, but nothing is going to stop you from finding him. Janet nods and joins another group of girls that you both know from school. She's trusting; you have to give her that.
The crowd outside the performance area is thinning as you stand there without a clue about what to do next. Then, there's a light tap on your shoulder. Your heart skips several beats and you turn around to find him standing there behind you.
"Hey, baby."
He's taller than you thought and being this close, you can really see the details of him. You recognize the pieces and seeing them all put together is a little overwhelming. Suddenly, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. You stand there in shock for a second before you throw your arms around his neck. You hold onto each other like this for a while, neither of you wanting to let go. Connecting with him feels like a cosmic miracle. There could be a hurricane around you and you wouldn't notice because of the calm that settles inside you when you're in his arms. Finally, he pulls back from the hug and puts his hands on either side of your face.
"Come with me."
He takes your hand and starts to walk towards the back of the stage. You make your way together to a dressing room with his name on the door. It's small, but there's a wide couch and a vanity with lights around it. He closes the door behind you and turns to face you.
"How is this possible?" He asks.
"I don't know. Have you had--"
"Dreams? Yes. About you. For weeks." He moves a piece of your hair off of your forehead and gently tucks it behind your ear. He brings his hand back to your cheek.
You're suddenly filled with an overwhelming need for him to kiss you and you feel like you could cry again. As a tear escapes your eye and makes its way down your cheek, he catches it with his thumb and wipes it away. Then, he leans in and kisses your cheek where the tear was. He lingers on your cheek for a bit before he moves his lips down to your mouth, hovering there just above you. With the hand that was on your cheek, he tips your chin up. Your heart is beating so fast that you feel like it might jump right out of your chest. Finally, his lips touch yours. He kisses you softly, but everything inside of you is exploding. Just when you think you're the only one feeling anything, you realize that his hands are trembling slightly. He pulls back out of the kiss and puts his hands on your hips to steady himself.
"Darlin' I-I I'm sorry, I don't know what's got into me." You smile up at him reassuringly.
"I'm a little thrown off too. I just can't believe you're real."
"I'm as real as it gets, honey." He moves his hands around to your back, pulling you closer to him. You put your arms around his neck again and press your body up against his. Something in your stomach tenses up as the shock of finding him wears off, only to be replaced by something else. You need him. You need his big, strong hands on every inch of your body. You need his full lips kissing the parts of you that no one sees. You need to hear his voice moaning with the pleasure of being inside you. He seems to experience the same thing, because now he's kissing you again. But not soft like before. No, now he's kissing you with the full pressure of his tongue moving in your mouth, pausing only to nibble on your bottom lip periodically. He has one hand on the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair, and the other on your lower back pulling your hips into his. You absolutely melt into his kiss, returning his passion with your own. He walks you backwards a little and pins you up against the door, both hands on your hips as he grinds into you. You feel his hardness through his pants and the place between your legs becomes warm and wet. He needs you too, needs to feel you around him, needs to taste you, needs to be deeper inside you than either of you ever thought possible. He picks you up easily and carries you over to the plush couch, his lips never leaving yours. You lay on your back with him on top of you, both legs wrapped around his waist. He moves his kisses down your cheek to your neck, stopping only to softly bite your earlobe. You've never had a man do that, but always wished one would. It's like he can read your mind and your body and knows exactly what to do with you. You moan at the feeling of his erection pressed against you. In one move, he unzips your dress and has it off of you and on the floor. His jacket and shirt hit the floor as well. You take in the sight of him while his eyes roam over your body as well. The dream flashes didn't prepare either of you for this depth of attraction. In a second, he's on top of you again. The places where your skin meets his are on fire with electricity and heat. His hands reach behind you as he unhooks your bra and tosses it to the side. The feeling of his skin against your nipples makes you weak with desire. You want more.
"Scoot up, honey." The sound of his voice catches you off guard. It's breathy and deep.
"Huh?" He puts his hands under your arms and moves you backwards to the edge of the couch. Then he positions himself between your legs and pulls on your panties, sliding them down to your ankles and off. You arch your back and throw your head back as he slips his index and middle fingers into you. He groans when he feels how tight and wet you are. He pushes his fingers into you several times, kissing the inside of your thighs. Then he uses his tongue to make circles on you exactly where you want him to be.
"Oh fuckkkk," you moan. He's reading your body so well that you almost pass out from the pleasure of his mouth on you. You can feel your release building as he continues what he's doing with his tongue and his fingers. This isn't the first time you've experienced this, but you've never had a man be so careful and specific with you before. There's nothing sloppy or unintentional about the way he moves. Every little motion is perfectly calculated to push you over the edge. He alternates between fingers and circles and pushing his tongue into you as the rush continues to build inside you. When you do climax, it's all you can do to keep from screaming and clamping your thighs around his face. You lay there shuddering and trembling as wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure wash over you. When he smiles at you from between your legs, you're overcome with the need to give him what he's given you. He tries to climb back on top of you, but you find your voice.
"No, sit up." He looks at you with a mischievous grin and obeys. You get on your knees on the floor between his thighs and go to unbutton his pants. Your hands are still shaking from your orgasm, though, so he helps you free himself. You use one hand to hold him and run your tongue in a circle around his tip.
"Oh, shit, baby." His voice is still deep and his breathing is heavier. You seem to be reading his body pretty well too.
You take all of him into your mouth and he cusses again and leans his head back, eyes rolling. You continue to work with your tongue and lips, licking and sucking him while he moans and grunts periodically. You get him just to the edge of his climax and stop. He looks at you abruptly, but you just smile playfully. You aren't finished with him yet. You help him pull his pants the rest of the way down and off until you're both completely naked. He's still in a sitting position, so you straddle him, placing one knee on the side of each of his hips. Then, you lower yourself onto him slowly and let him fill you up. He moans again and his hands automatically go to your rib cage, where he begins to control the pace of you sliding up and down on him. You ride him like this for a while, him pausing every few minutes to kiss and tease your chest. You bounce up and down quickly, reveling in the feeling of him hitting all of the right places inside you. Eventually, he stops you.
"Honey, I'm close." He whispers softly.
You put a hand on either side of his face and look into his eyes. You kiss him passionately before you whisper back, "I'm ready."
He flips you over and lays you down on the couch without pulling out of you. You keep your legs wrapped around his waist as he pumps into you deeply, the change in angle driving you both crazy. The sound of your bodies moving together mixes with the sweat of your mutual heat. You dig your fingernails into his back and he cries out as he slams into you as hard as he can, sending you over the edge again too. You feel his warmth fill you up as he collapses on top of you twitching with pleasure, your legs shaking as the waves continue to crash through you. He lays with his head on your chest, both of you breathing heavily and sweating.
"Fuck, baby, that was..."
"Incredible."
He looks up at you through the black hair that has fallen into his eyes.
"That wasn't in my dream."
You laugh. "It wasn't in mine either." You run your fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. There's something deeper in this moment than simple intimacy. There's a feeling of destiny between you, like a prophecy being fulfilled or a purpose being met.
He lays his head back down on your chest with one of your hands in the back of his hair and the other drawing lazy circles on his back. For a moment, you're afraid he's fallen asleep. You know you could in the stillness of being with him.
"I need you to stay with me." His voice cuts through the dream-like haze you were in.
"Stay with you?"
"Don't ever leave me." He mumbles it quietly, like he's afraid of what your answer might be. He pulls you into a sitting position on the couch and puts his forehead against yours.
"I don't think I could stand missing you again." You know exactly what he means.
"I'm not going anywhere." You belong to each other. He knows it and you know it. He kisses you softly on the cheek again.
"My dream girl."
It should be a cheesy line, but in this case, it's absolutely true.
******
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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year
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rowaelin // 5.2k words // masterlist an: i'll add tags later tonight after work, but I wanted to get this posted before i leave <;3 tw: brief mentions of abortion, language
The bathroom counter was entirely covered with various types of pregnancy tests. After the first four showed positive, Aelin had gone back to the pharmacy and bought every type they had available. HCG tests that were no more than skinny bits of paper, typical plastic ones, digital ones. Not a single one had given her the negative she was looking for. Paper results from an emergency room visit yesterday morning showed the same thing, only this time it was there in her blood. 
She hadn’t gone to the ER for pregnancy results— that would have been silly. She went at the urging of Lysandra because since finding out a few days ago, her anxiety made her symptoms even worse. Aelin hadn’t been able to keep down liquids of any sort and dehydration quickly set in. A quick prick of a needle had fluids and anti-nausea medication flowing into her bloodstream. Discharge paperwork referred her to an OBGYN and had a script written for Zofran, a stronger nausea medication so she could keep food and water down. It had become her best friend.
The thought of an abortion had crossed her mind, even in the moments before Lysandra had asked if she wanted to keep it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be a mother— she did. But it was a dream that happened after she was more settled in her career and in a fully committed relationship. Not while she was opening the second office and had so much hard work ahead of her, not when she barely knew the father. 
It wasn’t an idea she could fully entertain without talking to Rowan first, to see where he stood on it. But she already knew what her choice was, even if he didn’t want the responsibility. She would keep it. As much as her anxiety felt like walking on the wooden slats of a rickety rope bridge over a gaping canyon, a deep love was already blooming in her heart the size of a sesame seed. It would only get bigger with each passing day, that what-ifs of it all dancing behind her eyelids while she slept. 
What are you up to tonight? I’m in Doranelle and if you can swing it, I want to see you
She shot off the text and stared out her office window while she waited for a reply. It had been a lie, she wasn’t in Doranelle. But she needed to see Rowan and talk to him about everything as soon as possible. With a mind full of racing thoughts and unanswered questions, of the half truths she’d given him about her life… the only thing that could truly calm her nerves was talking it through with him. 
All yours after 6. 
A heavy sigh fell from her lips as she glanced at the time— 4:30– then rubbed at her temples. It was going to be a long night. 
~*~ 
It was the first time Aelin had been to Rowan’s house in Doranelle. All of their time had been spent at her apartment so far. In fact, she had only been over to his apartment in Varese a single time, just long enough for him to grab something before they went out on their downtown adventure. 
The apartment was nice, of course, but didn’t seem to hold a candle to the house she was parked in front of. When pulling down the long and winding driveway, her eyes darted between the numbers on the house as soon as it appeared and what she had entered into her GPS. Rowan’s SUV in the driveway assured her it was the correct home, but… 
How the hell did a man on a coach’s salary afford this house plus a luxury apartment in another major city? 
It was new construction, a contemporary home made of dark wood and ebony stone. It was nestled back off the road and surrounded by towering oak trees in every direction. Long curtains were drawn inside, hiding which rooms had walls of floor to ceiling windows. She imagined him laying on his couch after a long day with the curtains open, gazing out at the setting sun beyond the trees. 
It was beautiful. The tranquility of it was amped up to a thousand when she opened her door and stepped out. Somewhere in the tree line a stream trickled along, the soft sound of moving water enough to calm her nerves if only a little. 
Almost as soon as her toes touched the bottom step that led up to the porch, the front door swung open. Rowan grinned at her, a dish towel in his hands while he dried them. Scents of garlic, onion, rosemary, and other spices wafted out the front door. Thankfully her stomach only growled in response and didn’t have her bent  over the railing to empty her stomach into the bushes. 
“Hey, you,” he said softly, meeting her halfway across the porch. Long fingers tilted her head back so he could press a sweet kiss to her lips. 
“Hi,” she whispered back, standing on her toes to kiss him again. Rowan took her hand and led her through the door and toward the kitchen. Even though she offered, he insisted she sit at the bar while he finished dinner. 
“Wine?”
“Water, please.” Thankfully it didn’t raise any questions about why. He filled a tall glass with ice water and slid it over the counter to her before turning to resume dinner. 
“How was your day?”
“Long,” she sighed, nervous fingers drumming against her stomach. One of her legs had taken to bouncing on the wooden footrest and her breaths became shorter, more frequent. Nausea swirled in the pit of her belly but this, she knew, wasn’t morning sickness. Aelin didn’t realize she was biting her lip until she tasted metal, nor did she realize Rowan had moved to her side. 
“Hey,” his bent forefinger guided her face to look at his, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk.” Those four words, four measly syllables were all it took to douse the room in cold tension. 
“Okay.” Rowan nodded, taking a moment to turn the burners on the stove down. He guided her into the living room where he sat her down on a plush gray couch that she seemed to sink into. 
“Can I just—” Aelin leaned forward and kissed him softly, then sat back with her legs folded beneath her. As if on instinct, her hands folded in front of her stomach protectively. 
“You’re starting to frighten me.” He murmured, hand resting on her knee to give her a comforting squeeze.  Aelin wanted to laugh, and almost did. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up one of several images of her bathroom counter and handed him the device. “I’m pregnant.” 
Rowan was silent while she swallowed down her emotions, forcing everything to stay buried under an exterior mask of calm. His green eyes stared, and stared, and stared at the picture, fingers zooming in on the dozens of tests on her counter. 
“Is it mine?”
“I–” Aelin tempered her frustration. It was a valid question. If she were in his shoes, she would have been asking the same thing. “Yes. You’re the only man I’ve been with in the last year.”
It was a little embarrassing to say out loud. The last few years had been busy and she’d seldom made time for a personal life. It was exactly the kind of thing her mother was referring to when she meant that Aelin had a knack for having absolutely no work-life balance.
“How? We used protection. You’ve told me before you’re on birth control.” More valid questions that she herself had voiced to Lysandra in the minutes after taking the first few tests.
“My guess is that it broke? The condom, I mean.  I haven’t missed a single dose of my birth control. I triple checked.” Aelin’s knee began to bounce, that anxious ocean ready to swallow her up whole from not knowing the outcome of this situation. She hated not knowing things, not being able to predict how a person might respond. 
Locking the phone, he placed it on the sofa between them, a muscle feathering in his clenched jaw. Rowan didn’t meet her eyes as he stared forward and tensely asked, “Are you doing it for money.” 
“What?” She sputtered, immediately standing and crossing the room from whatever bullshit that question had been. Of all the ways she had anticipated him reacting, this had not been on the list. All of the nervous energy roiling through her quickly turned to something hot. Like some struck a match and threw it on a puddle of kerosene. 
“Are you doing it for my money?” He repeated, voice flat as he finally looked up at her. Rowan didn’t move from the couch as he stared at her, all the softness she was used to on his face gone. Any of the mirth and joy in his eyes she’d become accustomed to was gone. 
The butterflies he usually filled her stomach with had turned into white-hot rage pouring through every vein of her body. Aelin’s face was hot, eyes stinging as she did her best to force her tears away. It had been a long while since she’d become so angry that she jumped immediately to crying about it. 
Something had changed in Rowan’s face, too, as he looked at everything written across her face as plainly as if she had shouted at him. His eyes softened a little, his hands clenching against his thighs. 
“Why the fuck would I want your money?” She didn’t let him finish before saying, “Ask me what my last names are.” 
“You have more than one?” Confusion had his brows pulled together and wrinkles stacked up his forehead. Rowan stood, taking a handful of steps toward her. Aelin retreated with her fingers pressed against her stomach. “Are you married or something?”
“Ask. Me.” She demanded of him, voice and hands shaking. Tears started to fill her eyes and spill over, her skin so warm they were cool as they ran down her cheeks. Even the tips of her ears had gone crimson, evident in the way they burned beneath her hair. It was the exact opposite of how she had felt the first time she saw those two pink lines on that pregnancy test. A sea of wild, unchecked flame lived within her, pumped through her heart, burned the back of her throat, her cheeks, her ears. 
“What are your—”
“Ashryver Galathynius. My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” Each of her names was punctuated with that fire, her entire body trembling with so many emotions at once. As much as he was into the stupid fucking sport, he would understand what it meant.
And he did. Rowan’s entire face went slack, those wrinkles disappearing from his brows, his jaw popping open. Even his arms fell motionless to his sides. 
“As in— shit.” 
“My grandfather and my father,” she added for extra clarification, so that he knew it wasn’t a distant connection. It was direct. “Ask me again if I want your fucking money,” she spit the word at him like it burned her mouth to say it. It kind of did. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that his reaction would be so callous and cold, that he would accuse her of getting knocked up for money. What fucking money? Why the fuck would she go after a teacher’s salary when her own checking account was so loaded she, and her child, would ever want for anything? 
“Aelin–” Rowan took a step forward, hand raised as he reached for her. Aelin held up a single finger and shook her head, recoiling from him.
“Don’t.”
“I need to–”
“You need to go fuck yourself, Rowan.” Her footsteps chased her like thunder rolling in for a storm, punctuated by the window-shaking slam of the front door. To give him one ounce of credit, he did follow her, but by the time he made it outside, she was already in her car, pulling a u-turn in his yard, and speeding down the driveway. Nothing but a cloud of dust remained in her wake.
In the rearview, Rowan’s form was blurry from her tears, his arms on top of his head while he watched her leave. 
~*~
It was late. Like, the bar had been closed for an hour already, late. The Neon Moon was empty, save for Rowan, Fenrys, Connall, Vaughan, and Lorcan. They had an off weekend, and a drink was desperately needed by all. When Rowan arrived at the bar half an hour before closing and pounded back enough drinks that it was almost alarming, everyone decided to linger until he started to talk. 
“Dude.” Fenrys poked his arm with an outstretched hand. The response was a slurred grumble in the old language that not even Lorcan managed to pick up.
“What’d you do?” Connall asked, bracing his arms on the counter. Rowan lifted his head, room spinning like he’d just finished doing ballerina turns. Aelin liked to dance. He hadn’t ever seen it but he could imagine her in tights and a leotard, a tutu around her waist. She probably didn’t get dizzy when doing turns. 
Nausea hit him in a wave and he took a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. Closing his eyes made it even worse, so he kept them open and fixed on Connall’s face. Ballerinas did that, didn’t they? Focused on one spot so they didn’t get dizzy or fall out of their tight spins? 
As the nausea abated, he remembered holding Aelin’s hair back for her while she was sick a couple weeks ago. Neither of them knew it then, but she was pregnant. He wondered if she was still feeling sick all the time or if it was getting better every week. A frown took over his whole face, eyes dropping to focus on a dent in the counter. Someone had carved a heart there, and he wanted to scribble over it. 
“She’s pregnant.” Was all he managed to get out, trying his hardest to enunciate his words. Everyone went utterly still and silent, Lorcan moving to sit in the chair beside him. 
“Did she fucking–” he started, leaning his head down to try to look at Rowan’s face. The silver-haired man waved his friend off, shaking his head like an indignant child.
“I’m not drinking because of the baby. Or the woman.” It was true. Rowan had always wanted to be a father, it was a dream of his. Sure, it would have been nice if it happened in a more ideal way, but that wasn’t why he took so many shots as soon as he walked through the door. No, it was the look on her face when he coldly asked if she wanted money. The betrayal that slowly leached over her features, the way she bit back tears until she couldn’t anymore. “I monumentally fucked up.”
“That does usually lead to a baby,” Fen quipped, a sly smirk starting to appear on his lips. As quickly as it started to form, though, it vanished after a hard smack! against the side of his head, courtesy of Lorcan. The fair side to Connall’s dark coin groaned, blindly slapping his hand against his attacker’s shoulder. Another searing look from Lorcan had Fen’s hands falling back into his lap. 
“In what way?” Vaughan had leaned forward to see around Lorcan’s head while he spoke. The wood was cool against Rowan’s cheek as he laid his head on the bar, desperate to stop the spinning of the room. 
“She told me she was pregnant, showed me all the tests from a photo on her phone,” Rowan waved his hand toward his phone that he frowned at, “And then I asked her if she did it for money.”
“Oh, you bloody wanker,” Fenrys mumbled, shaking his head. The man in question was sitting up on the counter, legs dangling over the edge. His foot twitched like he debated kicking him in the knee. Rowan wouldn’t have blamed him. He deserved worse than that. 
“It’s a valid question.” Lorcan’s voice was sharp enough that Fenrys twisted his mouth to the side, eyes narrowed like he might disagree with him, but wouldn’t to avoid further physical injury. Instead, he offered a shrug of his shoulders and kept his mouth firmly shut as Rowan laid his head back down. Something was damp beneath his cheek, cooling his whiskey-hot skin. 
“It really wasn’t. Not when she told me that Ciaran Ashryver is her grandfather and Rhoe Galathynius is her godsdamn father,” Rowan growled. His anger and irritation was pointed to no one but himself. “She doesn’t need my money. I’m pretty sure she still thinks I’m a soccer coach because she was absolutely mind boggled that I’d even ask her such a thing. I don’t even know why I asked, either. The fear of it all, of–”
“Her father is Rhoe Galathynius?” Lorcan cut in, and Rowan wanted to kiss his forehead for cutting off that spiral. 
“Yep,” he replied, the p sound popping more than it normally would. And her cousin is Aedion bloody Ashryver! How did I not see it? They look nearly like twins! They have the same face!” Rowan shouted, palm slapping against the counter between each revelation. Fenrys jolted, eyes widening as he slipped off the bar and an entire seat away. Rowan was too drunk to shoot him an apologetic look for coming so close to his leg. 
“I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out,” Connall said smoothly, grabbing an empty glass and filling it with water. 
“Are you telling me you fucking knew?” Rowan said through clenched teeth, lifting his head so he felt like he was seeing the room through a kaleidoscope. Despite the whirling of the world, he met his friend's gaze. A bit of mirth twinkled in Connall’s eyes, a match for the anger in Rowan’s own head on. Clearly Connall only had loyalty to his brother and himself, if he just threw Rowan to the wolves like that.
“I didn’t know her exact relation, I just assumed. They look too much alike to be anything else. Did I know she was a football princess? No, but she knew too much about the sport when you talked, I figured she was involved in some way.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Connall slid the water toward Rowan. “And she definitely doesn’t know who you are. Earlier this week she was asking me if the boys had any games this weekend because she wanted to see you but didn’t want to interfere with your coaching. She’s never pried about what you do for a living, always took it at face value and assumed you were being honest.”
“I want another drink,” Rowan grumbled.
That was the other thing, wasn’t it? Sure, she had been lying. But so had he. In that initial moment of shock, where he felt like history could be repeating all over again, he’d lost it. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case. How timid and nervous she was, how sick she had been, the evidence in the picture of dozens of tests covering her bathroom counter. Rowan had seen it all with his own two eyes and still taken the shitty, cold, asshole route. 
If he was being honest, at the time it felt like the easier road to take. Aelin clearly had a temper hiding under her skin, though. Those remarkable eyes of hers had glowed with the anger he sparked. It had been fire in her eyes, white hot and raging. Maybe it had been the light playing off the tears that welled in her eyes, making her eyes glitter, but he had never seen anyone quite so angry, or quite so devastatingly beautiful. 
That was the mother of his child. A stunning, spit-fire of a woman that it was all too easy to imagine a future with. A life with. Even before finding out about the baby Rowan had imagined ways he could make the long distance work when she went back to Orynth in a few months. Now, it felt stupid. A bomb had been detonated and it was entirely his fault. Because he was the bomb. Ruining everything good that touched him. 
Perhaps he should have been drunk when she delivered the news. Drunk Rowan would never have said that to her. 
“She’s so pretty,” he mumbled aloud, finger dipping into the puddle his ice glass made and beginning to write her name across the bar. Lorcan nudged his shoulder, shaking his head. Right. That was pathetic. Rowan Whitethorn was not pathetic. To prove it, he picked up the glass of whiskey Connall handed him and downed it in one go. 
“I can’t believe you asked Aelin Galathynius if she wanted money.” It seemed that Fen could no longer  restrain his smart mouth. His chest shook with suppressed laughter. “Hate to break it you, mate, but I’m pretty sure–”
“Fenrys,” Lorcan growled, immediately shutting the pup up. Even the laughter in his face was quick to die off. Drunk Rowan was grateful for it. Right now he was toeing the line of punch first, ask questions later. “Let’s get you home. We’ll start to figure this out tomorrow.”
Despite his words, Lorcan still sounded tense. Like he, too, was clenching his jaw with frustration. Rowan imagined it had to do with him not believing Aelin, thinking she knew and was chasing his money or fame. That didn’t make sense, though. Drunk or sober, it didn’t make sense for her to want his money or his fame.
Rowan’s mind wandered on the drive home. If she wanted the fame, it would be easy enough for her to get it on her own. Rowan had learned in the hours after she left that if she had wanted to, she could have been a socialite. She certainly didn’t need Rowan’s help.
Back when she attended matches there were hundreds of pictures of her cheering in her family’s suite, of her on the field offering the players high fives, of her family out to dinner. If it was fame she wanted, she already had a clear shot at it. Besides, she was already a national treasure to Terrasen. The following she on the Fireheart social media pages and her personal instagram alone was more than some of his teammates had. 
Money didn’t make sense either. She was on good terms with her parents and after minimal digging he discovered she wasn’t teaching dance and piano. Maybe she did sometimes, but recently her name and picture had been scattered through the headlines because she was opening a new office for her foundation that she founded, the Fireheart Foundation. There were already multiple locations throughout Terrasen targeting underprivileged youth, to enhance the art programs both in and out of school. Now she was doing it in Varese, her mother’s home city. 
Aelin didn’t need money. She didn’t need fame. It wasn’t about any of that, and he fucking blew it by being a coldhearted bastard.
“Thank you for the ride,” Rowan slurred to Lorcan, who was probably his best friend all things considered. Maybe he should tell him that. Of all the people in the world, Lorcan was usually easiest for Rowan to talk to. He seemed to understand him a little better than the others, even if they were all pretty close. Rowan decided then that if he ever got married, if he could fix this thing with Aelin, Lorcan would be his best man. Yes. That was an excellent decision. 
Rowan hauled himself out of Lorcan’s car, feet stumbling on the street. He barely caught himself from face-planting on the sidewalk, recovering by swinging himself around a street sign and throwing a mock salute toward Lorcan to indicate that he might have stumbled, but he was good. He didn’t need help. Rowan had this.
 His best friend looked at him drily, quirking an eyebrow as Rowan turned to walk to the door and–
Walked directly into the marble exterior of his apartment building. Double over, Rowan rubbed at his stinging face to ease the pain. A glance at his fingers told them there was no blood. Thank the gods he didn’t break his nose.
“For fucks sake,” Lorcan’s voice was suddenly a hiss in his ear, throwing Rowan’s limp arm around his shoulders.
“You’re really fast, y’know that? And tall. You’re gonna dislocate my shoulder,” He slurred, eyes focused on the ground so he could get one foot in front of the other. Lorcan told him to shut the fuck up and walk. Wisely, Rowan did. 
By the time Lorcan half-carried him up to his apartment and dropped him unceremoniously into bed, he was saying silent prayers to whatever god that would listen for him to be able to fix what he had so easily shattered.
~*~
“I know we’re anti-Rowan right now, but I want to know what my niece or nephew is going to look like.” Aelin gave her bestfriend flat look through the camera, but Lys merely shrugged her shoulders. The angle of her phone changed and Aelin knew she was on the hunt. Honestly, she should work for government security. The woman could find anything on anybody. “What’s his last name?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t ever find the right moment to tell him what mine were, and his just never came up. I never asked.” Aelin rolled onto her side in her bed, frowning at just how puffy her eyes were from crying the last several days. It was ridiculous. If he wanted to be a prick about it, fine. Aelin didn’t need him. It would have been nice, but… 
No. That thought was quickly tucked away elsewhere, somewhere at the back of her mind where it wouldn’t pick and poke at her sensitive emotions until she cried. 
“What did you say he does? A teacher?”
“Soccer coach in Doranelle. He doesn’t have social media as far as I’m aware. I’ve never seen the apps or anything on his phone.” Rowan didn’t give off social media vibes, either. It was hard to imagine him coming up with a witty caption for a vacation photo, or having the desire to post pictures of his life at all. 
“Rowan, Soccer, Doranelle. Lets see what that gives us,” Lys hummed, fingers flying furiously across the screen. From this point of view, Aelin had a great shot up her nose. If she wasn’t feeling so morose she would screenshot it and save it for a rainy day. “Oh my– Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”
At her full name, Aelin propped herself up on an elbow, frowning down into her phone as she said, “What?” 
“Rowan Whitethorn. Google that and tell me if that’s him.”
“Why does Whitethorn sound familiar?” It both was and wasn’t a question for Lysandra. It was definitely tinkling a bell somewhere in her brain, the name. And as soon as she typed it in and pressed search, she understood why. “No fucking way.”
“That might be why he asked if you wanted money,” Lys said. Millions of search results came back. Photos, articles, interviews, the works. Thousands upon thousands of pictures loaded when she hit the images tab, and her jaw nearly hit the floor. 
Pictures of Rowan in a dark blue uniform with Doranelle’s logo across the chest, a number seven and his name across the back. Images of him from the side, his silver hair french braided with the rest pulled into a bun. There were pictures of him held on his teammates shoulders, of Rowan making a match-ending goal, Rowan squirting water into his mouth on the sidelines. 
“He’s got personal interest in the game, is all,” Connall had told her that first night. A vague memory of Rowan giving the bartender a flat look entered her mind briefly as she closed the tabs and looked back at her best friend’s face. 
“Why is the soccer world so incestuous?” Lys asked her, laughter in her voice.
“It’s not funny,” she hissed back, but there was no bite to it. Maybe it would be a little funny in a few days. There was no doubt in her mind that Aedion and her parents would find it absolutely hilarious. 
“The money thing makes sense now, though.”
“It does,” Aelin agreed, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eye. “But I thought what we had was different. Regardless… even if I had known about all of this I wouldn’t have thought he would react that way.”
“Maybe it’s happened before. Maybe you need to hear him out and let him explain.” 
She did and she knew it. The shift in his behavior happened so suddenly, had blindsided her entirely. It had to mean there was a reason for him to snap like that. It still pained her heart and soul, though. Even if he had the best reason in the world, it didn’t take away the betrayal and hurt she had felt. 
At the same time, she felt silly for feeling so upset. They barely knew each other. Of course he would be cautious of her motivations. It made sense. If it had been going on for longer, would his reaction have been more mild? Would it have been sweet kisses and promises that things would be okay? Did Rowan even want kids? Probably not, given the status he currently held in the soccer world. The man showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. A baby would just complicate that. 
“That baby is going to be the most beautiful fucking thing.” Lys may have been mostly talking to herself, but Aelin found her lips tipping up at the corners because it was true. It would be. 
Almost against her own will, her fingers pulled up Rowan’s text thread. He sent dozens of messages throughout the week. Most of them were begging for a conversation, asking if he could call her. Some of them from last night made no sense whatsoever, words strung together in a way that made her believe he was drunk. There were six in a row from last night in the old language. If she had been able to read around the typos, maybe she could figure out what they said. The spelling was so badly butchered, though, that some were different words altogether. Complete gibberish, utter word salad. 
Then there was the single one he sent her today that simply read: I’m sorry. For all of it.
There had been other apologies that requested the chance for him to explain, but none of them felt quite as barren and hopeless as this one did. Almost like he was ready to throw in the towel if she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. Though she was angry, it didn’t sit well with her. Maybe she felt a flicker of anger in her chest because he hadn’t been willing to fight for her for more than a few days, or maybe it was because she was frustrated he would stop because he believed it was what she wanted. Either way, she didn’t like it. 
It was then that she decided she would give herself a few more days. A few days to process the pregnancy, his reaction, her counter-reaction, all of it. And then maybe… maybe she would be ready to talk. 
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Note
I love selkies. Can you do a horror based story with selkie rook from twisted wonderland please!!
The Selkie's Chosen Bride
The content below the read more is Yandere content and is part of a Halloween Event. You have been warned.
He was knocking at the door again.
Every night for the past month, without fail he would be at your door, hoping to be let inside. And every night you've huddled up on your bed, praying for him to just go away until sleep finally claimed you. Then he'd be gone in the morning, but you knew if you strayed too close to the shore when the sun was out he'd be waiting for you.
You'd heard tales of selkies growing up here in this coastal town, mostly from your grandfather as he regaled you with stories from his sailing days. He'd fill your head with images of sunken treasures, underwater cities that were home to mermaids, and of course of those strange creatures who could take on the form of a seal using a coat. You hadn't put much stock in them of course, they just seemed like the stories any loving grandparent would tell their grandchild that you could look back on fondly as an adult.
The stories had even come to mind when you freed that seal tangled up in that fishing net a month ago. But you didn't think much of it at the time. All you saw was an animal in need of help, and you didn't hesitate to take out your pocket knife and cut the poor thing loose. A small act of kindness to add a little more good to the world, and then you went about your business after making sure the animal wasn't injured.
It was later in the day, as you started to walk home from the pier with the fish you caught for dinner in hand, did you run into a man you had never seen before. Short blonde hair with fringed bangs, pale skin, sharp green eyes, and a very pleased grin on his face at the sight of you. In his hands was what looked to be a seal's skin, much to your hidden disgust.
"Mon amour, there you are! I was hoping to run into you!" He exclaimed as he stopped you right in your tracks. You only gave the man a confused look as he held the seal skin out to you.
"Um...What are you doing?"
"Giving you my coat of course. It's only customary that I do so for the one I've chosen to marry."
"WHAT?!" You shrieked as you jumped back in shock, causing him to chuckle a bit.
"You saved my life Ma Cherie, so it is only right that I give it to you in return. I promise I'll be a wonderful husband to you. I will happily provide for you, and make sure you never want for anything."
Saved his life...
You took another look at the seal skin, realizing that it looked like it belong to the seal that you had rescued that morning, and your thoughts drifted back to your grandfather's stories. Mainly, about how those who wanted to take a selkie as a spouse would steal their coat. And now one was handing you his willingly after you detangled him from a net.
You quickly gave him a no before running to your home and locking the door. You had no interest in taking a supernatural creature as a husband. You had heard countless times of how badly those ended, and you were not going to be added to the list. But of course, he had followed you home, bringing to what had become a part of your daily life.
Him knocking at the door, trying to persuade you to let him in every night. You avoiding the shore, knowing that he was there waiting for you with his coat in hand. There was no end in sight for this nightmare for you, it seemed like this cycle wouldn't end.
But he decided to end it tonight it seems, as you heard him start breaking down the old wooden door that kept him at bay for so long, and heavy footfalls began to make their way towards your bedroom.
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octuscle · 2 months
Text
Business trip (Day one)
I am a counsellor. I analyse customer processes and try to optimise them. Optimising this planet is my goal in life. Some people think I'm a nerd. But I also have another side… Is it wrong that it's 11 o'clock in the morning and I'm feeling horny…? While I'm sitting at a client's desk in a suit and tie, analysing work instructions…? That's actually not that sexy. Maybe it's just hunger. Maybe I should go to lunch earlier today.
The place where I'm currently working is a medium-sized town with maybe 100,000 inhabitants. Could be a few more. Could be a few less. My customer is on the edge of the city centre, and the choice of restaurants in the immediate vicinity is rather limited. My customer recommended a snack bar for my lunch break. Better than nothing.
At 11.30 a.m., the snack bar is still very quiet. The guy who works there is really hot. He's wearing a black T-shirt under his black shooter that shows off his well-defined upper arms. He seems to have noticed you checking him out. He looks at you with a grin. You swear that he's taken a good look at your bum.
We start chatting… I'm a stranger here. Far away from home. Apart from the customer I'm visiting, I don't know anyone here. I ask if there are any good bars in the neighbourhood. He recommends one and says he's going there later….. "Maybe you could meet me there," he says. I have to tell him I don't have any casual clothes with me. Maybe he can help me out…. Yes, he says, he's about the same size as me. But he's only wearing skinny jeans and trainers. I wonder if that's my style. I laugh. Definitely for going to a bar. I reckon we're both 32 in the waist… My thighs are probably a bit more muscular than his. But it's worth a try.
He reckons if they're a bit too tight, squeezing into them would help me. Do I need underwear too? I suspect I won't be able to fit much in a really tight pair of jeans other than a jockstrap. In that case, I'd really have to hope for his help. Sure thing, he replies. That's all he wears!!! He has a black one and a white one. Which would I prefer, unless of course I want a dirty one from his hamper….. The thought makes me lick even more precum. Seriously, it's for a night out in a bar. I'll also happily take a worn jockstrap. Gladly in white. What kind of bar is this, I ask. I mean, can I keep the white button-down shirt on? For the start of the evening, yes, he replies. A lot of the guys there take strip off when the evening gets warmer. And about the pants: he has a white jockstrap in his hamper, but he admits it might be a little stained with his cum from last night. I wonder if that bothers me?
I don't think it's any worse than the precum soaked white boxer shorts I'm wearing now. And I add that it's because of him. I grab my crotch. He does too. About the shirt, I ask him if he has a plain white T-shirt or something. Then I would certainly feel more comfortable in it with jeans and trainers… He has a plain white T-shirt that I'm happily invited to wear.
I arrange to meet him at his house at 20:00. I go straight there. No diversions via the hotel. The afternoon is extremely unproductive. All I can think about is the hot guy and the evening with him. I try to remember the name of the bar. But I can't find it. And everything I find on Google Maps doesn't match the description the guy in the café gave me at all… Maybe I misunderstood him too. And it's not really a bar at all.
Damn, I can't wait to be in this guy's jeans tonight. I'm so annoyed that I travelled to my business meeting this time without sportswear. Otherwise I could have worked out at the gym beforehand.
It's almost eight o'clock in the evening. I'm standing in front of the house of the hunk from the snack bar. It doesn't look like a house at all. More like a warehouse. But there is actually an entrance door to the right of the large garage door. Just a single doorbell. No name… But the address and the house number seem to be correct… I press the doorbell. There is no sound, but obviously there are visual signals. I can see flashes of light through a window. And shortly afterwards I hear footsteps.
I have to take a deep breath when the door opens. The hunk is wearing jeans, probably the same ones he was wearing in the snack bar. But he's taken off his T-shirt. Above the belt, he's only wearing a flashy gold chain. In between, a slim, well-trained upper body covered with well-trimmed body hair. He greets me with a fist bump. "Sick that you actually came. I wasn't sure if I hadn't been too pushy." I swallow briefly. And then I smile "We haven't even introduced ourselves yet. My name is Marcus." He's grinning. Perfect teeth. Bright blue eyes. "Call me Liam. Everyone calls me Liam." He gestures for me to follow him and we enter the building.
It looks as if the offices of the warehouse have been converted into a makeshift flat. Some of the furniture is clearly from an office. Moving boxes are standing around. Not untidy, but not cosy either.
Liam opens a door and we enter a warehouse. Empty except for a food truck, an old Ford Mustang and a Ducati racing bike. I look at him questioningly. "You'll have to excuse me. The whole property was a bargain. But a lot of it is still very improvised." He strokes the motorbike. "My great love," he says with a grin. He asks if I ride a motorbike too. I shake my head. "Big mistake, mate! You should change that!" Liam strides briskly through the hall, opening a steel door at the end opposite the gate. Behind it is obviously his laundry room. Liam points to a laundry basket and says with a grin that I should help myself. He doesn't even pretend to be discreet as I undress. He stops in the doorway and kneads his bump. Naked except for my boxer shorts, I rummage through his dirty underwear. Shit, my boner is building such an obvious tent in my shorts that I might as well not bother. I reach for the first available jockstrap, take off my boxer shorts and put on the urine-yellow, cum-encrusted jockstrap. An unmistakable wet spot forms. Liam has pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his trouser pocket, takes a fag, lights a cigarette and hands it to me. I gave up smoking three years ago. Never mind.
The jeans are stained. The white T-shirt smells as if Liam had worn it several days in a row on hot summer days while cooking in the snack bar. It takes me a while to find two socks that match. Liam goes to a cupboard, takes a pair of worn-out trainers and throws them to me. I can't help but press a shoe to my face and take a deep breath. It smells of many kilometres walked. Liam scrutinises me. He nods appreciatively. And asks me to throw him a vest. "Let's go," he says and stubs out his fag on the concrete floor. He walks towards the garage door. I follow him.
I've had this job as a management consultant for a year and a half. After graduating, I started at a bank, but that was boring. I like travelling around, I like the variety. And I actually like the anonymity. At home, I would never have dared to leave the house in this lift. Here it just doesn't matter. Nobody knows me here. And looking like a redneck makes me horny. With the hot redneck next to me, even more so. It's one of the first warm evenings of the year. We walk through the streets in silence. Liam gives me a second cigarette. Shit, why did I ever stop?
No wonder Google couldn't find the pub. The pub to which the door we're standing in front of belongs seems to have been closed for a long time. The windows are boarded up. The old door has been replaced by a metal building door. Nevertheless, there is a doorbell. Liam presses it. It doesn't take long for a muscular guy with a naked, heavily tattooed torso to open the door. He first greets Liam with a firm handshake. And then he scrutinises me. "Mack, a friend," says Liam. The guy shakes my hand too. God knows I'm no pushover. But he almost crushes my hand. And then he waves me in.
Despite the fact that the building looks completely deserted from the outside, there's a lot going on inside. A good dozen men are hanging around a bar, smoking and drinking beer. Most of them around Liam's and my age. Late 20s, early 30s, sporty types. Jeans, T-shirt. We fit in perfectly. Liam takes off his vest and tucks it into his trousers. Without warning, his right hand goes under my shirt and pinches my nipple. "Bit of a prude, mate?" he asks. Grinning, I take my shirt off. A bloke arrives with three bottles of beer. He scrutinises Liam's chest first, then mine. He hands us each a bottle and says to Liam that it wouldn't be clever of him to bring his own competition. I'm not a bodybuilder… But I am indeed a bit more muscular than Liam. I grin at the guy "Mack, nice to meet you. Always nice to meet Liam's friends." "Mason. Nice to meet you. And I didn't realise Liam had friends." I don't see the icy stare Liam gives Mason. I just laugh and take a sip of beer.
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The place is getting fuller and fuller. Liam knows God and the world. He introduces me to a dozen horny blokes. Everyone invites me for a beer. Thank God, because I have my mobile phone and wallet in my suit in Liam's laundry room. I'm practically at the mercy of the guys here. And they take advantage of it. I remember pissing in my trousers at some point. I vaguely remember throwing up in a totally filthy toilet at some point. And then I don't remember anything else…
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ladychota · 9 months
Note
Can i request loki and the reader on their first date??
A/N - Of course!! Thanks for the request anon, hope you like this :)
All Good Things
Pairing - Loki x Female Reader
Warnings - I don't think there's anything, just a fluffy oneshot (lmk if there's anything you want me to add)
Summary - Loki invites Y/n to his place for a date.
Word Count - 1.3k
Masterlist
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Butterflies dance in your stomach as you swipe your lipstick over your lips. It's almost time. Almost. And you're incredibly nervous. You'd hoped that Nat hyping you up earlier would settle the torment of crashing waves, but it seems not.
Loki invited you to his apartment for dinner tonight. He was so calm when he asked, while you had trouble getting a single syllable out to say yes. You've been best friends for a while, so there's a lot riding on this... if it doesn't work out then you could lose your friendship. But, then again, you're not sure how much longer your little crush could've stayed a secret - this has come at the right time, for better or for worse.
You take a deep breath, smoothing out the knee-length dress you wear (it's Loki's green - you're hoping he'll like it) and slipping your feet into some heels. Checking yourself in the mirror once more and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you ready yourself to leave.
It'll be fine.
The walk to Loki's place is a short one - no more than five minutes at most; you spend the entire time running over possible conversations in your head, wringing your hands together anxiously.
You reach his door and knock tentatively; the door opens almost instantly.
"Hey!" You greet, you face lighting up as you see him. Your heart flutters as you notice he's wearing a tuxedo, his hear gelled back neatly behind his ears. He looks... hotter than ever.
"Uh... I- hi," He stutters, a huge grin on his face. "You look stunning,"
You feel your cheeks grow warm. "Thank you... you don't look too bad yourself,"
He chuckles nervously, holding out a bouquet of red roses. "These are for you,"
You take them, admiring the scarlet petals and the lovely smell. "They're beautiful, thank you," You gasp, suddenly remembering something. "I'm so sorry! I meant to bring some wine but I completely forgot,"
"Do not fret, I have wine here. But thank you for the thought," He moves to the side. "Would you like to come in?"
You nod and step inside, thanking him as he takes your bag and puts it on the coat rack. He walks you through his apartment and into his living room, where he's set up a gorgeous table for two; it's covered in a pure white cloth, a single red rose in a vase in the centre of the table and two glasses of red wine and cutlery at each place. The only lighting in the room comes from a few lit candles, each one varying in size and smelling amazing.
Loki pulls out one of the chairs and gestures for you to sit down, taking the bouquet from you and placing it in an empty vase nearby (he said it's to 'keep them fresh and beautiful for you'). You're lost for words: he really has thought of everything.
"Make yourself comfortable," He says. "I'll go get the dinner,"
"Do you need any help?" You ask.
"No thank you. I want it to be perfect, so you don't have to do anything," He grins and walks out before you even have a chance to protest. 
Mere moments later, Loki comes back holding two plates loaded with food. He places them down on the table carefully.
"This looks amazing! Smells amazing too," You exclaim, knowing he made this himself. Even in the dim light, you can tell his cheeks have flushed red.
"Well, I hope you enjoy it,"
The conversation starts to flow easily after this, the both of you devouring your delicious meals - and it really is delicious; you'd never thought Loki could cook so well. But then again, he is good at most things, especially at making you happy. You don't think you've ever been this happy.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end: after hours, it's time for you to leave.
"Thank you so much for this," You say as you walk towards Loki's front door, your bouquet of roses clutched tightly in your hand. "It's been the best night of my life,"
Loki beams. "And mine too, thank you for coming,"
You wonder then if you should move in for a kiss. It's usual that most people kiss on their first date, right? But what if he doesn't want to? You don't want to make him uncomfortable...
The door opens, revealing cold droplets of water falling from the dark sky and landing in rippling puddles. You shiver as the cold of the night shudders down your spine. You sigh, not looking forward to the walk home.
"I suppose I shall see you soon," You say, turning to Loki - he seems to be searching for something.
"Wait," He runs back into the living room and returns holding a green zip-up hoodie and a black umbrella. He helps you put the jumper on and hands you the umbrella. "Hopefully that will help,"
He smiles a smile that melts your heart. "Thank you so much," You say.
"It's no problem at all! Have a good night,"
"And you," You step out and open the umbrella, turning to wave before starting your journey home.
It's quiet - the only sound is the calming patter of rain and the clack of your heels against the concrete. You feel extremely... contented; the smile hasn't left your lips for a single moment.
But it does disappear when you realise something's missing. Your bag. You freeze, wondering if you picked it up and dropped it, or just left it at Loki's... did you even bring it in the first place? Yes, you remember picking it up... then when you got to Loki's he put it on the coat rack and you didn't pick it up on the way out.
You mentally scold yourself for your forgetfulness, debating whether you should run back and grab it. You are closer to your place, but his is only a few minutes away... although it is rather late and you know Loki will look after it if you do leave it there.
"Y/n!" You turn around at the shout, your gaze meeting with a pair of piercing green eyes.
"Loki," You breathe, your heart beginning to hammer in your chest as he comes to a stop in front of you. You lift the umbrella so it covers him as well, although he's already soaked so you're not sure it'll do much. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, you forgot your bag," He takes the umbrella and hands it to you - it's somehow completely dry.
You sigh with relief. "Thank you so much, I was just wondering if I should run back to get it,"
"It's no problem at all," He wears a small smile, raindrops slipping slowly down his cheeks. His hair hangs in thick, wet strands in front of his face - before you realise what you're doing, you're slinging your bag over your shoulder and reaching up to tuck them behind his ears.
You smile involuntarily, your heart fluttering. He's so lovely and kind... how could anyone not love him? He ran through the rain to catch up with you, purely to give your bag back. There can't be many men out there who would willingly do that. 
He brings his hand up to softly caress your cheek, his eyes shining in the moonlight. Your heart hammers harder as he tilts your head up, leaning down so his soft lips meet your own. The kiss is tender and gentle - it's beautiful.
You pull away slightly after a while, your nose brushing against his. "You know, we're closer to my place than we are yours. How 'bout you come home with me?"
He grins, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "I'd like that,"
He interlocks his hand with yours, holding the umbrella above you both as you begin to walk back to your home.
Maybe not all good things have to come to an end...
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