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ellemj · 1 month

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Off-Limits: Ch. 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Summary: Bucky Barnes wants the one thing he can't have, and he'll go to great lengths to get what he wants. The tension between the two of you makes it impossible for him to think rationally.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I've been thinking about writing something like this for a few weeks but I'm typically not an AU kinda girl so stick with me. Bucky is intentionally out of character in this but hopefully a few of you will like him this way. Also, THANK YOU ILY for the little bullets and foliage art for my timeskips @littlemiss-yeehaw. She is an angel, an inspiration, I love her.

Off-limits. Nothing has ever pissed James Bucky Barnes off more than the phrase off-limits. The fact that it’s you who’s been labeled off-limits only adds to the fiery rage that’s steadily growing inside of him.

Bucky leans back in his desk chair, running his flesh hand through his hair while he goes over his options in his mind. He could just take you. He could give a few orders and have you in front of him by nightfall, though he isn’t quite sure how he feels about starting a war simply because he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. He could have a sit-down meeting with the man he detests most in this world, the man who currently has total control over your future. He could make an offer, bargain for the right to have you to himself. No, that sounds too polite.

The sound of a fist rapping against the heavy wooden door of his office breaks Bucky out of his thoughts.

“You told me to come back at eight, so here I am. What did you decide?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind him after entering. He’s itching to do something, anything. His life has been hell ever since Bucky first laid eyes on you. It’s as if the entire fucking operation dropped to the bottom of the totem pole while you rose to the top. It would be great if he could bash a few heads in, fire a few rounds, and deliver you to his boss tonight so he could fuck away whatever this newfound obsession is and get back to being the cunning, ruthless mob boss he’s meant to be.

“We’re paying my least favorite lowlife a visit.”

Just like that, James Bucky Barnes and his entourage of over-eager gunmen are on their way to your house, to see your father.

As you tiptoe down the mahogany stairs of your childhood home, your bare feet just barely gracing each step, you forget for a moment that you’re not a little girl anymore. You can hear the distant sound of low voices and tense discussion coming from your father’s home office near the bottom of the staircase. When you were younger, those sounds would’ve had the hair on the back of your neck standing up and you would’ve been hightailing it right back to your bedroom. You’re not so timid anymore. The man already holds your entire life in the palm of his hand, molding and shaping it however he sees fit. What’s the point in trying to abide by his rules when it’ll never get you anything other than exactly what he wants for you? So, you continue your daring trip to the kitchen, with the hem of your oversized t-shirt skimming along the skin beneath the curve of your ass and your heart set on a late-night snack.

Bucky sits across from your father’s desk, his jaw aching due to the number of times he’s caught himself clenching his teeth together during the past hour of deliberations. As he lifts his hand to massage the sore muscle along the side of his face, he hears the sound of a wooden floorboard creaking somewhere outside of the room that he currently sits in. He shifts his gaze around the room, noting the way his own men, your father, and your father’s men all seem oblivious to the miniscule noise that came from somewhere in the house.

“It doesn’t matter how long we sit here and go through this. My daughter is not getting married, she isn’t on the table.” Your father’s tone, though resolved and sure, doesn’t match the look in his eye. It’s a look that lets Bucky know you’re not actually off the table, he just hasn’t made the right offer yet. The words echo in his head for a moment: on the table.

Fuck. If he sits here for another second, picturing you physically on top of a damn table, he might make an unreasonable offer just to turn that fantasy into a reality. It’s what prompts Bucky to rise to his feet suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his black suit pants to retrieve his phone and act as if he’s going to make a call, maybe a call to check on things within his business to see what else he can offer the piece of shit who sits in front of him. In reality, he’s making up an excuse to get the hell out of that stuffy office and clear his mind just enough to close the deal.

“Let me make a call.” Bucky says evenly, shooting your father a steely look. Your father leans back in his desk chair, relaxing for the first time since his rival showed up on your doorstep an hour ago. When Sam and Torres make moves to follow Bucky out of the office, Bucky holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Stay, I won’t be long.”

Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the armchair he had been sitting in, Bucky steps out of the office and guides the door to shut as quietly as possible. It’s fucked up, what he’s doing here. He knows that good and well. Offering large sums of money, offering obscene amounts of quality product, offering a damn near eternal truce in the streets…all to have a woman he barely knows. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his enemy’s home, he casts a glance up the staircase by the office door, wondering if you’re awake up there. Are you sitting in your posh bedroom without a single worry plaguing your pretty little mind? Are you sleeping soundly as he barters with your father for the right to have you all to himself? Or are you thinking about him too, about the handful of times you’ve run into each other over the past two months?

Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts of you, Bucky takes a few steps to his left and turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen soundlessly. That’s where he finds you, hidden behind the open refrigerator door as you rummage around for a snack. He sees your bare legs first, peeking out beneath the half-door. He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the phone in his right hand simultaneously. It fucking hurts just to look at you.

“Your father lets you walk around like that with guests in the house?” He seethes. Startled, you shove the refrigerator door shut just before dropping the container of blueberries in your hand. As the plastic container goes crashing to the kitchen floor, blueberries scatter around your feet. James. When your eyes land on him, you can see the look of disdain all over his face. He despises you, you’re sure of it. Never one to take shit from a man, you narrow your eyes at him before crouching down and positioning yourself on your knees. Bucky watches intently as you pick up the blueberries one by one, placing them back into the plastic container.

“I don’t think my father considers you a guest.” You whisper the insult just loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for your voice to carry over to your father’s office. Bucky’s squeezing his phone so tightly in his hand that he’s already thinking about having to send someone out to pick up a new one for him tomorrow, because surely, he’s shattering the screen of it. It isn’t your cute little attempt at a comeback that’s irking him. It’s the fact that you’re still on your knees, with your t-shirt riding up your thighs and your eyes lifting to meet his gaze as if you have no idea what effect you’re having on him. He’s sure you aren’t that naïve, which means you’re doing this shit on purpose.

“Get up.” He says through his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him before cocking your head to the side and picking up another fallen berry. It’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll listen to him. The way Bucky sees it, if you listen to his command and stand up, he’ll feel a bit better about going to all of this trouble to have you. It would tell him that although you’re defiant and like to talk back, you still know how to do what you’re told. But if you don’t listen? He can think of a few enjoyable ways to break you of that bad habit.

“What would my father do if he knew you were in here telling me what to do?” The question leaves your lips with the intention of being threatening, but Bucky’s hard stare and cold expression melds into a look of mild amusement. You pick up one of the last few remaining blueberries and drop it into the plastic container, keeping your gaze steady on the cold-blooded man a few feet in front of you. You watch with masked curiosity as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit pants and begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He notices the way your eyes fixate on his black and gold arm, the way you almost seem fascinated by it. When he uses his metal hand to roll up the sleeve on his right arm, your focus shifts to the tattoos covering the majority of his flesh forearm. It isn’t your eyes that tell Bucky you like what you see. It’s the way you subtly clench your thighs together as you drop another berry into the container. You don’t shy away, you don’t move even an inch as he begins walking toward you. Even when he comes to a stop in front of you, close enough that the toes of his dress shoes are nearly touching your knees, you stay where you are. You look up at him through your lashes without tilting your head upward, refusing to move any more than just your eyes for a man that you know would take a mile if you gave him an inch.

“What would your father do if he knew you were on your knees in front of me?” He lifts his flesh hand toward your face, expecting you to flinch away or refuse his touch, but you don’t even blink as he lets his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw. He drags his fingers downward, until he’s in the right spot to curl them beneath your chin and force you to tilt your head up for him. Again, you don’t resist him. “Get out of here before someone else sees you like this.”

It isn’t at all what Bucky wanted to say to you, not even close. But it was what needed to be said. If anyone else had walked out of your father’s office and stolen the privilege of seeing you looking so pretty on your knees like that, he would’ve shot them dead right there in the kitchen. Whether it was one of your father’s men or his own, he wouldn’t have given a shit. So, Bucky lets his hand fall away from your chin, but he doesn’t step away. You reach down for the container of blueberries and grasp it in your right hand as you move to stand, keeping your eyes locked on Bucky’s the entire time. You want to shove him, to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do, especially not in your father’s home. At the same time, you wouldn’t be opposed to tracing the tattoos on his flesh forearm with your lips. What is it about this man that makes your rational mind war with the rest of your body?

When you step around Bucky a second later, setting the container of blueberries on the island in the center of the kitchen before heading toward the stairs, he has to fight the urge to reach out and grab you. Not now, not yet. You’re not his yet. When you round the corner of the kitchen and begin tiptoeing up to your room, Bucky makes his way to the bottom of the stairs and watches you silently as you take each step. You don’t look back as you make it to the landing and turn right, disappearing behind a wall. When he hears the faint sound of your bedroom door closing, he reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieves a small silver cylinder. It sits heavy in his hand as he pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants. As Bucky screws the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, a distant voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to be rational about this. Don’t do it. Don’t go to such insane lengths for a woman you don’t even know. Don’t spill blood on these nice mahogany floors.

When he enters the office a few seconds later, he fires two shots. The first into the shoulder of your father’s righthand man, and the second into the thigh of the other hired gun. His face is emotionless as he steps over their bloody, writhing bodies and presses the cool metal of the silencer against your father’s temple. Bucky only has to speak one sentence to let the man know that he isn’t to be fucked with.

“We make a deal tonight, or I make your daughter an orphan.”

TAG LIST:

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#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier #winter soldier #mafia bucky x you #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes

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neil-gaiman · 9 months

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Hello, Mr. Gaiman! I’m sure you get a ton of messages like this, but I still wanted to say thank you for the amazing representation in Good Omens. The show really helped me come to terms with my asexuality. For most of my life I knew I wasn’t straight, but I’d always had trouble with labels as nothing felt quite right. I felt like I didn’t fit in with anyone, and after taking a few poorly constructed internet quizzes I had come to the conclusion that I was asexual. This wasn’t exactly thrilling news for me. Practically all the ace characters I’d been exposed had been portrayed as cold, distant, and emotionless. All that “representation” did was make me feel more like an outsider. Asexuality was usually treated as something unnatural and practically inhuman.

A few weeks ago, I finally watched Good Omens after putting it off for a few years, and wow I really should have watched it sooner. For the first time ever, I saw a love story that I could truly relate to. Here were Crowley and Aziraphale, two asexual supernatural beings who were in love with each other. Seeing that made me feel like I could be asexual and that it could be just as beautiful, romantic, and real as any other relationship. Not only did I (and many other queer people) feel seen, but Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship also touched the heart of my mostly homophobic mother lol. So thank you for all that you do Neil! You’ve quickly become one of my favourite authors! Representation matters.

I'm so glad.

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neochan · 8 months

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RULE BREAKER (M)

PAIRING: rockstar!mark lee & fem!reader

GENRE: rockstar au! band au! pwop

SUMMARY: another city, another girl, another broken rule.

WC: 3.3k

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol & drugs, cursing, explicit sexual content, fingering, pretty tame smut ngl, spanking, choking, hair pulling

NOTE: this was just to get me back in the groove of smut writing since it's been a couple months. this is also a submission for @nctpromptmeme . this is prompt 1 of this list!

mark lee knows it’s against the rules to take a fan backstage.

it’s not the venues rules. staff members barely spare a glance when he tangles his fingers in yours and pulls you down the nearly abandoned hallways just left of the stage. he doesn’t get a second look from a wandering sound engineer when he escorts you through the jungle of metal rails supporting the stage from beneath. and no one bats an eye when he slips past security to an empty green room nearing the back of the building.

it’s not his own personal rule either. mark has done this plenty of times; choosing someone within the first few rows at his concert, playing up the eye contact, having a security guard slip them a note telling them to wait up after the concert — and it almost never fails. after the band bids goodnight, and fans filter out on the street, mark hops back on stage to greet his lucky winner.

and they’re always there, eyes aglow with excitement and shock when they realize that yes, this was real. mark lee wants them for the night. leader of pop punk band parasocial wants to meet…y/n.

the taste of your name rolls off his tongue so beautifully, so intoxicatingly, he has to repeat it a few more times once the green room door is locked and the curtains are drawn — not too loudly though.

because while it might not be the venues rules, and it certainly isn’t his own, he promised his band mates this couldn’t happen. he swore up and down they wouldn’t become those kinds of rockstars. everyone knows the type — scandal starters, excessive partiers, seen with a bottle of alcohol or tightly wrapped blunt in hand, escorting fans backstage at every show to....well, to do exactly what he was doing right now.

but mark isn't stupid, so he hides it from his bandmates; despite them breaking the rules so brazenly. jaemin stacks up scandals like spare drum sticks, jeno gets off on the attention & fame, renjun self medicates with alcohol, and haechan couldn't be labeled as anything other than a junkie. but he can't be like that, because mark is the leader. the one that has to walk a straight line — at least in public.

so when he's finally locked away in private with his lucky hit, he let's go. there's no need to be an upstanding, careful leader — he can shake off the tension, relax his shoulders, and focus on what's right in front of him.

which, at the moment, just so happened to be you.

"you're gorgeous, you know that?" a tender hand tucks stray strands of hair behind your ear, "couldn't keep my eyes off you tonight."

you can't believe mark lee is right in front of you, touching you, praising you. it's every fantasy you've had of him rolled into one. so when his hands wash over your top, fitting themselves so perfectly on your waist, you giggle and take a little step forward. his body is warm, and he smells smoky with a tinge of bourbon, but what's catching you off guard is how much prettier he is up close. eyeliner is smudged underneath his lashes, and there's blue hair dye running down the side of his neck, on par with rivulets of sweat. the metal bar through his eyebrow is real, and when he flicks his tongue out to lick at his lips, you find a matching tongue piercing.

he loves this.

the wide eyes, taking him all in. the giddiness. the oh my god mark lee is touching me; and while he might not get off on it as much as jeno, he can't help the feeling rushing straight to his cock.

after a few beats of becoming completely starstruck by him, you respond, clasping tightly onto the front of his shirt, "i mean i'm not all that special, but you...." a blush warms your cheeks, "you're out of this world."

it's a reference to one of the songs he sang tonight, so he let's out a forced chuckle and mumbles the rest of the line, "if galileo could see you, he would fall to his knees." he catches himself by surprise when he slowly sinks down onto the floor, the cold tile seeping through the rips in his jeans. his fist curls around the waistband of your skirt, eyes raking your figure. hunger clouds his eyes, but you don't care.

you want this.

he almost thinks you're backing out when you clamp a hand around his arm, but then you say something that makes his head spin on it's shoulders, "you don't have to be gentle...."

it's the desire in your eye, the same glint that matches his own, that permisses him to yank the flimsy skirt down around your ankles, nearly throwing you off balance in the process. "pretty girl wants it rough, huh?" mark pulls himself back up to his feet, one hand winding through your hair, the other knocking your thighs apart, "don't worry, i'll make you scream." his fingers open you up, just the tips of them pushing into you. already you're stretched on your tip toes, trying to run from the warming sensation below your navel. but mark catches this and gives a harsh tug on the roots of your hair, "feet down."

you're basically sinking down on his fingers when you settle on the balls of your feet, the stretch welcoming yet too intense for your body, "f-fuck." you curse.

"baby," he coos, "if you're drooling over two fingers, i don't think you'll be able to take my cock."

"i can, i promise." you mumble, face burning with embarrassment. not because you were under the rough hand of your favorite singer, not because he was teasing you about how tight you were, but because he was peering so fucking deep into your eyes, like he was searching for your soul.

"oh she promises," he mocks, pushing his fingers deeper. he can feel your walls fluttering around his digits; pulsing when they curl and brush the sweet spot he knows all too well.

you're out of breath, eyelids drooping with the weight of having to keep them open, "s-stop toying with me." you plead, nails raking the arm that's holding your body against the cinder block walls.

theres no snarky comment that follows. instead, he leans forward and captures your trembling lips with his own, and you see stars. it's exactly like you imagined it be — feverish, rough and demanding, exhausting every bit of willpower from you. his tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and his piercing clacks against your teeth, forcing a shiver down your spine. he smirks, that much you register, before bullying his tongue into your mouth, the hand between your legs matching.

too many sensations cloud your head — his hot tongue swirling around your own, forcing you to open up and taste each other, the metal ball on his tongue sticking against your teeth, and his fingers culling you into a head high. your eyes drift shut and you push your hips into his hands, all but grinding down.

mark lee might not have been a guitarist, but he sure did know how to use those hands of his. he sets back and licks his lips, letting out a shaky breath. the wet heat of you was drawing him in; he eases two fingers back inside until his knuckles pressed against your folds, and you sighed his name again. he was hard and aching now; listening to the soft pants that fell heavy as he thrust his fingers in and out. the hand that was threaded through your hair finds home on the sides of your throat, squeezing just enough to get your eyes fluttering open.

"whaddya doing sweetheart? sleeping?" he teases, his voice a drawn out purr in the quiet room, "i can't be that boring now, can i?"

when you try to shake your head no, this was far from boring, you find yourself stuck in his grip.

"maybe you want my cock instead?" marks eyes go soft, melting with the way you try to squeak out a response, "what was that?"

"p-please," you cry out hoarsely, his fingers finding that sweet spot again — but, only for the last time. just as fast as he was in you, he was pulling out.

"look at how wet you were for me," he groans, showing off your arousal that dripped from his fingers. he doesn't hesitate when he sticks them both between his lips, the most vulgar sound emanating from his throat, "you taste good as fuck."

warmth returns to your face at his remark, and it's only then that you realize your state. he was still covered head to toe in his stage outfit; metal chains and dark black alt pieces of clothing hung off his body, but you....you only had your top on. from the waist down, you were completely exposed.

mark seems to realize this too. "take this off for me?" he asks, fingering the strap of your top. "don't worry, i'll do the same." the grin you'd seen splashed across magazines and album covers lights up his face when you do as he asked. and true to his word, his shirt was on the ground in a matter of seconds - right next to yours. dark spills of ink swirl up and around his torso, nearly becoming a second shirt, but you see the muscles. the abs everyone goes crazy for, and with a tentative hand, you reach out to touch them.

"aw, don't be shy baby, i won't bite." he grabs your wrist and makes contact for you. another wave of arousal rushes down your spine when the hard lines of his stomach flex in response to your graze. "you like that, huh?" furiously nodding your head, he chuckles,

"alright, let me give you what you want," he says it like his cock wasn't nearly bursting from his pants, swiftly aching at the mere thought of sinking into you. his gaze darts from yours to the couch to the wall to the table shoved in the corner of the room. where did he want to fuck tonight... "come here," his hand tugs you away from the cinder block walls, over to the soft looking leather couch, "let me see you bend that pretty body over...." he purrs, a wide sweeping gesture to indicate that he knew exactly how he wanted you.

face down, ass up...wasn't that the saying?

and you don't mind, gleefully shimmying across the arm of the couch, cold leather nipping at your skin.

"fuck, man...look at you," you can't see him, but you bet his gaze is hungry again, soft, but visibly desperate, "you really are out of this world."

a chuckle passes your lips at the joke, and for a fleeting second you wonder if you weren't the first girl to hear the phrase. but the thought is swept clean from your mind once you hear his pants slipping on the ground, his metal pocket chains scraping the linoleum.

"stop taking your time and fuck me."

he cocks his head to the side...did he just hear that right? a harsh smack lands on your ass cheek, the throbbing, searing pain causing you to lurch forward and cry out. marks hand rubs over the spot immediately, trying to soothe the sting.

"now come on baby, i just need you to be patient with me." you mewl out an incoherent acknowledgment. "here," he grins, "is this what you want?"

a gasp is pulled from your chest at the feeling of him dragging the head of his cock between your folds. "mark please, fuck." slowly, he pushes into you. one hand guides himself, the other is lazily wrapped around your hip. but you can't even think of that right now, because he was filling you to the brim. you've never felt this type of stretch before. it was mind-numbingly delicious,"you're so big."

both of you share a shuddered breath of air when he pulls out and pushes back into you, "damn." he swats at your ass again, this time not bothering to rub his hand over the sting, "you just keep getting tighter...."

his eyes flutter close for a second, lost in the wet heat of you. he's never felt this before — the mutuality of getting off. every other time it's felt forced from the other end; the overdramatic moans were always a turn off but you... you take it like it's real. like it's truly the best cock you'd ever sat on.

mark loves that the most.

"feel good?" the question is drawn out, too focused on keeping his pace even and sharp so that you wouldn't go face first into the couch cushions. you babble out some sort of response that mark can't quiet understand, "words baby..use your words."

"so f-fucking good," you choke on a gasp, "oh god, please don't stop." each word feels like it's ripped from your throat as mark works behind you, thrusting so deep you're left on your tiptoes again.

mark lets out a dark chuckle, fingers digging into your side so he can keep leverage, "be careful what you pray for baby, the devil might hear." it's another musical reference, one that you catch immediately, but you're too cock drunk to form a coherent thought much less a sentence. he feels the way your pussy clenches at his words though, "you liked that, hm?"

you shake your head, arms stretching out in front of you to keep yourself from slipping further down the arm of the couch before a squeal is wrenched from your throat. "you're so deep!"

before he can tease you about going deeper, a loud buzzing sound goes off on the coffee table next to you. it's his phone, lit up with someones caller ID. your eyes are glazed over and blurry, too unfocused to see who the hell was interrupting this. but it didn't matter, because mark ignores it and keeps fucking into you — a little more enthusiastic than before. his fingers still dig into your waist, yet this time, they pull you back to meet his cock. essentially you were bouncing on him without having to do most of the work, "look at that ass bounce."

the buzzing finally stops, replaced with another harsh smack to your ass. you cry out in pain, quickly drowned out by a moan as mark swivels his hips so that he was hitting your sweet spot. white hot pleasure courses through your entire body, and you all but thrash against the leather. "almost there, fuck, keep going. gonna c-cum."

the words are like music to his ears. "just a little longer," mark typically had great stamina, but after the performance tonight, and the way your pussy was sucking him in right now, his willpower was melting away. he was edging himself within your walls at this very second. he needed release. "you're so fucking wet, i can't... oh fuck." his phone starts buzzing again, and this time he glances at the name flashing across the screen and groans, "be quiet okay baby? i need to take this."

furiously, mark jabs the green button on the screen of his phone, "what do you want." through gritted teeth, he keeps his pace, thrusting into your warm cunt. it's difficult, but you manage to stuff your fist in your mouth and bite down, stifling any sound that threatened to come out. hot electricity was still running through every nerve in your body, but as mark mindlessly slows to concentrate on not moaning into the phones receiver, it slowly dwindles.

"i'm..." he glances down at the way your waist curved in, the jiggle of your ass when his hips met yours, "i'm outside. why."

you can't hear who's on the other end of the line. maybe it was his manager, or another member of the band. the only thing you knew for certain was they wanted to know where the fuck he was at.

"don't you dare talk sideways to me." the warning in his voice nearly makes you moan out loud. this side of mark lee was something to marvel at. but you don't. you just push your hips backwards onto him.

a breath of air rushes past his lips, "shit." he mumbles.

"i wasn't-" he grits his teeth, "i wasn't cursing at you......because i dropped my cig on the ground, i don't know jaemin."

ah so it was na jaemin - drummer of parasocial. hot head. scandal starter. covered in more ink than you thought possible.

"okay..." mark sighs, his pace slowing, "okay, i'm coming....yeah whatever." he presses the end call button on the screen and tosses the phone on to the couch in front of you.

"baby..." he warns, now lazily fucking you, "i gotta go..."

"why?" you whine, hips pushing back against him in an attempt to get his pace started again. you so desperately wanted him to keep bullying his cock into you.

"they said the vans packed up... if i don't go now, they're gonna leave me behind." he pulls out and helps you flip over to face him, hands instinctively come up to cover your chest, "i'm sorry," he breathes.

"it's okay."

maybe you didn't get to orgasm, but mark lee between your thighs was enough of a treat. as long as he felt good, it didn't matter. so it doesn't irk you when he says, "i'm sorry this couldn't be more..i'm worn out from the show, and...." his voice trails off into a sheepish shrug, his wrist flicking towards his phone.

"i know." it wasn't your job to reassure him, but you knew what this was. what his life entailed, even if it was from an outsiders perspective.

mark sighs, settling back against the couch while he watches you hurriedly throw your clothes on. there's something different about you.

"i can walk you to your car if you want," he offered, his voice tinged with a mix of earnestness and hesitation. he knew he couldn't, not really. the risk of being seen outside the venue with a fan was far too great — jaemin learned that the hard way. but still, there was something about your presence, something that made him want to break the rules just a bit more.

you responded with a wry smile, "nah, i'm good. appreciate it though."

he returned the smile, though a hint of disappointment flickered across his features, swiftly masked by indifference. "alright then, take care."

as you turned to walk away, his gaze lingered, a mixture of longing and apprehension in his eyes. the echo of the performance still reverberated in the air, and the cacophony of the crowd faded into the background. the isolation that often accompanied the applause and adoration settled around him—a sense of detachment despite the proximity to his admirers; to you.

"hey, wait up!" his voice rings out, more desperate than he intends. you stop and turn back to him, a questioning look on your face. "here." he thrusts a piece of paper into your hand, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. in messy scrawl, a ten-digit number is scratched across the paper. he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, the stage persona melting away to reveal the vulnerability underneath. "call me when you get where you're headed."

you take the paper, feeling surprise and curiosity bloom in your chest. "sure, i will." a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips as you tuck the slip of paper into the pocket of your skirt, a secret kept close to your heart. "have a good night, rockstar."

his eyes meet yours, a silent exchange that speaks volumes. in that moment, no other words are needed to understand that this is a fleeting connection, a chapter in a story that will continue for him in different cities, with different faces. another show, another night, another girl.

another fake number.

A. NOTE: this can be read as a standalone, but it is also part of a bigger series i've yet to release. so if you like this one shot, please let me know! you can send in an ask, or comment, reblog, or like <3

TAGLIST: @peachjaem00 @mrkis @downtonbabyah @vangoes @cutiepeas @yujuvly @nuttie-nv-blog @seuomo @mrkleelvr @kazuhateez @chardonnayyyy @hyuckiegirlfriend @jwijii @meowniee @leep0ems @hibye02 @girlwholoveslpreppyattire

#nct dream smut #mark lee smut #nct mark lee x reader #mark lee x reader #nct mark lee smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream band au #nct dream fic #mark lee fic #nctpromptmemedone #nct dream mark

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luciddownloading · 6 months

Text

Astrology Observations: Aquarius Edition 👽

🧠 Aquarius Suns, Aquarius Moons and Aquarius Risings are all specific embodiments of the Aquarius energy, but kind of go against other traits of the sign (This makes sense as Aquarians hate being stereotyped/put in a box).

Aquarius Risings are the most individualistic. NOT afraid to be different or go against the grain. Very unique energies and personalities. However, the "unemotional" stereotype does not apply here. We may appear detached, just through our face/body language, or even act a bit aloof as a defense mechanism. But, in truth, Aquarius Risings are very passionate and expressive and can also be very sensitive to others.

Aquarius Suns are the most social and people-oriented. They make all kinds of friends, wherever they go, and sacrifice a lot of their personal needs for others. Though they aren't necessarily followers, they are very happy to do whatever their friends want to do. As a result, Aquarius Suns aren't quite so nonconforming. Their weirdness is mostly in their sense of humor or life motto. Otherwise, they care a lot about social acceptance (which creates a certain inner conflict because they also feel like they shouldn't care).

Aquarius Moons are the most emotionally detached. Their feelings are often treated like a silly inconvenience to them. So, they either just brush them off or deal with them as if they are the emotions of someone else who needs good advice. As a result, their feelings continually "sneak up" on them and cause them to go a little wild/crazy and not know why. However, in contrast to the "social butterfly" description, Aquarius Moons are often very introverted or even shy. Not terribly social, very much loners, though they are good one-on-one and learn to "perform" extroversion well.

🧠 Aquarius' intuitive/psychic skills are seriously slept on. It can rival the Water signs, sometimes, especially when the Aquarius isn't too in their head. The ability to "just know" things about people and situations is unmatched. Receiving messages and insights through dreams or visions is also common.

🧠 Mars in Aquarius people typically are cool as a cucumber in situations that would make others livid and then flip OUT about things most people wouldn't even react to. Or they specialize in pissing others off, knowing the exact buttons to push, while they remain calm and collected.

🧠 The "ahead of your time" thing for Aquarius placements can manifest differently. It can mean being an artist/creative who takes a particularly long time to finally find success or recognition. It can mean telling the truth about someone or a situation and not being believed or vindicated until a few years later. Or it can just mean understanding things much more quickly than others.

In any case, you have to get used to the fact that it takes some time for others to "catch up" to you and not take it personally.

🧠 Venus in Aquarius individuals can have a polarizing effect. Those who are attracted to them adore their quirky appeal or the fact that they don't fit conventional standards. But, this is the very reason their haters feel the need to criticize them and label them unattractive.

🧠 Aquarius Moons might not exactly like children or see themselves becoming a parent (especially women with this placement) but then, out of nowhere, feel an undeniable draw toward parenthood. It truly turns their world upside down and can really help heal their inner child, which they don't have the best or most natural connection to.

🧠 Aquarius Risings always feel out of place but feel it the most among their family of origin. Either their personality or their appearance (or both) is wildly different than their other immediate relatives. They may also be the only child of their gender or the only tall one.

🧠 Those with Mercury in Aquarius tend to surprise people with their high intellect. They are unpretentious so people can underestimate their intelligence until they get going in a conversation or on a special interest. They can easily switch from being very quiet to very talkative and eloquent.

🧠 Aquarius Suns are much less flighty or flaky, socially, than their Gemini and Libra counterparts. They are a Fixed sign so they are too loyal to ghost or bail. They are still chaotic, though, and may not get back to you when you want them to. But, they eventually come through.

🧠 Although you can't label us too easily, people with Aquarius placements basically fall into one or more of these four categories: "magical, whimsical, otherworldly being", "brilliant yet scatterbrained and occasionally controversial professor", "maniac that everyone thinks is chill" and "chill person who everyone thinks is crazy".

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #aquarius #aquarius placements #aquarius energy #aquarius sun #aquarius moon #aquarius rising #aquarius mercury #aquarius venus #aquarius mars #aquarius stellium

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turcott3 · 2 months

Text

pov

juraj slafkovský x fem! reader

warnings?: angst, sadness, unprotected sex, p in v, and fluff

positions fics masterlist

~oh, ‘cause nobody ever loved me like you do, i’d love to see me from your point of view~

you sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at your bare nails. one of the wives invited you to go with all of them to get your nails done, to which you hesitantly said yes. though it wasn’t exactly in your budget, you still agreed to go and bond with them.

“so what are your plans today baby?” juraj asks stepping out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth.

“the girls invited me to go get my nails done, i’m going but i won’t get anything i haven’t gotten paid yet.” you say making broken eye contact with the boy.

“one second.” he says re-entering the bathroom so finish brushing his teeth before exiting the bedroom. in your previous relationship, your boyfriend never helped you. he would poke and tease at things that weren’t funny, comment on your body and you weight, tell you how to act and went so far as to hit you from time to time. truth be told, getting back into a relationship scared you because you thought all those things would happen once again no matter who you were with. the last 4 months with juraj had been hard for you. he made you happy and was always kind but the voice in the back of your head always told you to keep him at arms length, no matter your label.

“here, take my card and get whatever you want.” he said re-entering the room, holding his card out for you to take.

“are you sure?” you replied softly.

“yes baby, get whatever you want. it’s on me i promise.” he says again, shutting his wallet and tossing it on his nightstand.

“thank you.”

“of course, i don’t want you to sit there and be left out.” he says kissing you on the head while he collected his clean clothes off the bed next to you. the way he made your heart dance was an all new feeling to you. every time he touched you it was like a butterfly sanctuary busted loose in your abdomen, every time he spoke highly of you, you felt like it wasn’t real.

“i better go, i don’t wanna be late.” you say checking the clock and standing up off the bed, grabbing your purse from the dresser.

“have fun, text me when you get there safe.” he calls from the room as you exit the apartment.

“so how’s everything with slaf?” arber’s girlfriend asks.

“oh he’s been great, he’s such a sweetheart.”

“he is, me and arber are very glad he has someone to love. he has such a big heart he deserves someone as beautiful as you.” she smiles at you.

“awe thank you steph.” you smile lightly, not being able to even accept the compliment in your mind. you’d never felt beautiful, you felt cute from time to time, but never beautiful. after two long hours, you were finally able to leave which relieved you. you didn’t feel like you fit in. all the wives and girlfriends were so beautiful and kind and radiant. none of those things fit you, or so you thought. you entered your apartment to see slaf still in bed watching tv.

“i’m home.” you say catching his attention. he gets up and shuffles into the entryway.

“let me see let me see.” he says asking to see your nails. you picked a simple red design on nude nails, considering it was now february it felt right.

“do you like?” you ask.

“they’re gorgeous. i love them.” he smiles widely at you kissing your hands before placing two gentle fingers under your chin pressing a short kiss to your lips, which you gladly accepted.

“thank you.” you blush, a full smile never cracking your face.

“what’s wrong?” he says noticing your shift in demeanor.

“it’s nothing.” you say pushing past him to enter the bedroom, grabbing your pajamas.

“it’s not nothing.” he says following hot on your heels.

“j, it’s fine.”

“baby tell me.” he says grabbing onto your biceps and pulling you closer.

“i don’t deserve you.”

“what do you mean?” he says, a look of confusion taking over.

“all the other girlfriends and wives, they’re so beautiful and funny and kind, i don’t feel like i fit in with them. it’s like they always are put together, have money, happiness and like they just do everything so effortlessly.” you say, failing to hold back the waterfall behind your eyes.

“no my love.” he says wrapping you up in his arms tightly, rocking you back and forth.

“i don’t deserve you.” you repeat.

“you deserve more than me actually. i feel every emotion you feel everyday. i know you’re scared, i know you don’t feel any of these things about yourself but you don’t see yourself from my point of view.” he states.

“what?”

“you’re so gorgeous and sweet and smart and thoughtful. you make everyday so much brighter for me. i was so lonely when i first came to montreal and you’ve flipped my world upside down. you make everything better y/n.” he says and all you can do it cry. you have no response.

“i don’t know what to say j.”

“you don’t need to say anything, let’s run us a shower and get into our pajamas for a movie night okay?”

“okay.” you simply replied smiling lightly. the two of you stepped into the bathroom, him turning the knob of the shower to warm. you slowly stripped down, suddenly feeling very aware of your body. you hugged yourself hiding your chest and stomach while slaf stripped down in front of you. he finally looks up at you, eyes showing the sadness he felt at you stance.

“stop hiding, you’re beautiful.” he says pulling your arms away from your body. he reaches into the shower to feel the water finally warm. he steps in, lending you a hand in assistance. he pulls you under the water with him as you laid your head on his chest and arms wrapped around his waist. his hands wandering their way down your back, landing firmly on your ass.

“juraj?”

“yes?” he replies as the two of you lock eyes. you say nothing and simply reach a hand to the back of his neck pulling his lips to yours anxiously. his hands moved up your back as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. you pulled away, placing your hands on his chest as your body is flush against his. the look in his eyes read far more than lust.

“let me love you y/n.” he says, running a delicate thumb across your cheekbone, his eyes locked on yours. your hand found his way on top of his as you smiled.

“i will.” you reply quietly. he reattaches your lips hastily, giving you a light tap on the ass. you jump, latching your legs around his hips, not once losing contact. the sexual tension in the room rising quickly. lifting your hips, he pushes himself inside you, burying his face in your neck. you moan out in pleasure as his tip hit the sweet spot deep inside you. he used his arms to guide you as you moved up and down on his dick at a consistent pace, losing your breath quickly. you wrapped your arms around his neck placing your head in his shoulder, trying not to deafen the brunette with your moans. at this rate it wouldn’t take you long to finish. noticing you clenching around him, he picks up his pace.

“so beautiful y/n.” he says breathlessly as you slap a hand on the wall for better stability as your skin slapped against each other. he made you feel things you’d never experienced. your eyes squeeze shut as you begin to see stars, knowing you were nearing your witts end. you feel all of your muscles relax suddenly, your legs becoming shaky at the sensation as he buries his own climax deep inside you. the two of you slowly come to a stop, him not placing you back on the ground just yet. you lift your head off his shoulder dazily and he kisses you lovingly.

“that was amazing.” you giggle, pulling him out of you.

“yeah it was.” he laughs setting you back down.

“i love you so much.” he simply says causing your heart to flutter.

“i love you too slaf.” you smile finally grabbing some kind of soap.

“might as well make use of the shower.” you giggle, pouring shampoo into both of your hands. once the two of you are out of the shower and changed you’re found nowhere other than your bed, wrapped up in each other.

“so how do you feel now?” he asks, his thumb lightly stroking your side.

“i feel a little better.” you say.

“how so?” he pries.

“i feel beautiful and i feel wanted.”

“that’s because both are true my love. if you ever don’t feel okay please come to me. i’m here for you always.”

“okay.” you say, fighting sleep to the sound of his rhythmic heartbeat.

#juraj slafkovsky #juraj slafkovsky imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky smut #go habs go #turcs’ talk

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kalims · 8 months

Text

ㅤamongst other things

premise. kisses w/ them, and random things?

featuring. dan heng, blade, jing yuan.

content. gender neutral.

cw. mentions of blood, murder for blade lol. he's just down bad for reader in a weird, blade way ig

note. this is ironic since my first genshin post was also about kisses (AKA me getting bored so I wondered why not get into star rail)

will add others soon ig.. I didn't compile all of them here cuz I honestly lack the characterization for them so woop

dan heng

short, abrupt kisses that rarely ever come by goes as quickly as it came. you'd assume that he's doing it on purpose, giving you the kiss that you've been waiting for all day. it shouldn't even be considered a kiss at all from how fleeting his apparent 'peck' is.

in short it's torture.

keyword: assume. cause as convinced as you are that this is just some form of twisted amusement dan heng gains, that's exactly the problem that it entails. as a person wholly, he's so serious to the point you doubt there's nothing that would entertain him besides books.

you learn he isn't much of a fan of those really long kisses, once you both bore witness to a couple eating each other's face in broad daylight and you spotted his weekly shift of expression, a quirk of few centimeters. in this case, a grimace and he looks away.

he, does not really give kisses a lot. as upset as you are, you do agree that when he does give you a kiss, albeit short. it makes it all the more.. amazing? such a mediocre word wouldn't be able to describe it.

basically when you're both left trying to fit in his small cushion (he could've atleast gotten a bed in all this space.) you also learn that he's a really private man.

you've only ever shared kisses in his room, embraces, everything else for that matter. when the door is locked he quite literally melts into you. if you happen to be sitting together he just leans on to you.

dan heng in public: 😶

dan heng in private: 😊

just doesn't show any affection in public, especially if march is around. that girl would make fun of him for hours end and even drag the trailblazer in on her antics of poking fun.

dan heng is indeed a private man.

march isn't the only factor as to why there hasn't been a lot of kisses out in public. if anything he probably wants to kiss you more than you would like.

he'd be lying if he said he wanted to just kiss you as long as those weird main characters of the romance shows march watches cause even though you might want that as well, dan heng won't ever do it.

cause it isn't him, what he is. is the type to get kisses done as soon as he can not because he doesn't enjoy them. it's because he can take a good look at you once he leans back, just like he does any other day.

to admire you.

and cause dan heng isn't the romantic type to kiss you senseless, but the one to give you looks you'd die for.

blade

if dan heng only gives you kisses a few times a day and you'd consider it torture, better get ready to lose your sanity cause you're lucky if blade even crumples at your hand to give you one.

it's not that he doesn't love you. he feels as though it's wrong to label whatever emotion in his chest as something as strong as love, he won't go that far. but he won't label you as something worthy of hatred either, you're.. tolerable?

if anything blade doesn't outright seek to give you his affection through the form of a kiss. his love language is in fact, not physical affection but destroying your enemies :). (if you have one, if not. then whoever bothers you will suffice.)

but if he does, when he does it's the most blade thing he can do. just grabbing your face with one hand as he gives you one of those rough, deep kisses. it's not really desperate or out of need, despite such a wordless action you could feel some emotion he's pouring into it.

better pray it's not hate cause.. 💀

funny thing cause as much as he hates being piled in the same sentence as dan heng, in a way they're rather similar. both just preferring to witness, given their life span.. maybe it's some type of response they're used to.

blade doesn't really do the 'oh I love you' or the random hugs. the fact that he'd even stand so close to you instead of isolating himself and looking all mysterious leaning on a pillar already spoke volumes of his fondness (if not admitted.)

he just.. watches you?

silver wolf comments about it when she's caught his eyes on you many times midst a conversation, behind your back, staring. "better watch out." she says, but even with her disturbed gaze never does he tear his eyes away.

well.

kafka does take it in more stride than her. as someone who's spent a hefty time with blade, even someone as analytical as her can't tell which things he likes, and hates. besides all the blood and pain (well usually for his opponents.)

she for one, tells you that he does indeed like you. cause she can control who blade murders 'for her own good'. but if there's even a single glimpse of drop from a wound he's going feral, and not even kafka or her spirit whisper can tame his rage.

AKA... just lots of murder?

'for your own good :)'.

blade wholly believes that he doesn't need to shower you in affection, or kisses at all. but if you're really so insistent on them he'll give into you, which is surprising cause he's a pretty stubborn man.

most affection you'd get in physical means is when he completely collapses into you, perhaps a sign of weakness. but also trust. one of the rare times he's exhausted himself in his mind to the point where he can't even do anything.

#icanfixhim.

jing yuan

a cheeky man, this one.

jing yuan could give you a load, barriage, arrows, whatever describes the endless assault of pecks he attacks your face with. emphasis on 'could', he has the ability, and the freedom but it doesn't mean he's going to :)

in short you have to work for it, he says.

you can't tell if he's trying to give you one of those motivational, slapping you back to reality lessons or messing with you. you're going to go for the latter since someone as bold as he is lazy.. even jing yuan would relate enough to not hit you with the lesson card.

in a way he's always dragging the time you've gone by without a kiss from him as long as he can just for the sole reason he can see your attempts to conceal your bothered face, even better when the expression of content is all but displayed to him once he gives in.

what? he can't resist you, you know?

you have a feeling he's teasing you again when he says that but it's better to not ponder upon it.

for someone who prefers to 'conserve' his energy. he's got a lot to spare when it comes to the repeated kisses pressed upon your lips, cheeks, eyelids, forehead.. whatever his own mouth can reach. (his favorite is the edges of your eyes..)

just for some reason, one he can't exactly name he ends up giving that particular area more love compared to the others. sometimes more lighter, feathery pecks when he's feeling playful. or the occasional longer, deep press of his lips when he's feeling rather sentimental about his feelings.

he doesn't deserve you.. but if not him, who else? ;)

gets mimi to help him into trapping you inside his office, jing yuan 'calls for your presence' but once you're inside rather than the pressing matters he apparently had to discuss with you (present in his message.) you're met with the man practically snuggling into you as he keeps you in his arms.

rather effortlessly if you might add!

and if you somehow managed to wriggle out his grip. you swore you saw him give the... big... cat a look and suddenly mimi is choosing to sleep right in front of the doors..

come back or you will not get kisses for two days (he's scamming u)

note. NOT PR... hi hsr fandom 🕳 posting in a new fandom makes me so nerviosity

#. . . (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #blade x reader #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan x reader #star rail x reader #dan heng #blade #jing yuan #x gn reader

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kquil · 7 months

Note

hello! I'm here to request a 🍪 with poly marauders, where they ask the reader if they would like to be their partener and they're nervous and stuff

-thank you, have a lovely day !!

A/N : this is the finally cookie requested from my 1k milestone event, thank you so much for the request, darling and im so sorry for taking such a long time to deliver it, i really hope you enjoy the read, my lovely!

They had never been so nervous or anxious before. You were the one and only person to accept their unconventional relationship over everyone else when they first revealed that they were in a poly relationship with each other. What makes the situation even more anxiety-inducing is the fact that you were one of their closest friends, long before they even got into a relationship with one another, therefore, if they really followed through with this, they’d be risking their long-time friendship with you as well. Looking into each other’s eyes, it’s clear that they share the same anxieties for the decision they wanted to ultimately make.

Having understood and supported their relationship more than most, you were their common confidant and dearest friend… no… being around you didn’t feel like being around a friend, nor were you like any type of sibling to them. You didn’t fit into any comfortable category or label anymore. That line and distinction was blurred a long time ago, maybe even before they got together as a trio.

You felt more than a friend when you helped Remus through his thoughts on a daily basis, speaking to him softly and laying out his thoughts with much more clarity than he could ever imagine. You’re always there to help him go through his problems no matter how minute they may be and the tall brunette is incredibly grateful — he never wants to take you for granted. You don’t feel like a friend when you know exactly what Remus needs after a long and hard day. And, especially not when you allow him to hold you tenderly from behind as you help cook the boys their dinner, especially when they all feel lazy and tuckered out from a long day’s work. Remus would often press his face into the slopes of your neck and shoulder, breathing in your familiar fragrance and would sigh in relief, your scent giving him comfort. His arms wanting to hold you longer than what was appropriate for ‘just friends’, oftentimes, you’d let him without any complaints of discomfort.

“Are you feeling good, Rem?” you’d muse, your voice like sweet honey and warm milk to his ears, cosy and ever so comforting.

“Mmmm…yeah,” he’d reply, appreciating the hand you would reach up to briefly comb through his hair and massage his scalp with.

You felt more than a friend when you knew exactly what to say to Sirius if he was ever acting up. He had a horrible habit of acting first and thinking later, however, you were the only one who seemed to calm him down enough to temper his fury and instinctual need to act first, giving him clarity with your words and gentle touch. He’d be on the ground, back against the wall and burying his face into the plush warmth of your stomach as you kneel between his legs. He’d hold you desperately, clinging onto the fabric of your clothes as you soothe him by petting his hair and saying everything he needed to hear in that moment. Somehow, you always knew what to say. You don’t feel like a friend when he’s spooning you from behind, seeking comfort and warmth as you read a book. Your book wouldn’t hold your attention for long, however, as you would eventually deem Sirius’ comfort and needs more important than your need to finish a book. So, like clockwork, you’d turn around in his arms and he could finally feel the reciprocated action of your arms winding around his figure and pulling him close. Naturally, he buries his smiling face into your chest and you’d soon begin humming a soft tune to fill the already comforting silence.

“Don’t leave when I’m asleep…” Sirius whispers pleadingly, whining almost.

“Never, Siri,” and that was all he needed to fall into a deep slumber, smiling and always finding the sweetest dreams that often featured you as well as a great amount of kisses.

You felt more than a friend whenever you’d let James sit in the kitchen with you and ‘help’ you cook breakfast, lunch or dinner, whatever it may be. He’d watch you with such fond eyes, he was surprised that you never noticed his more than friendly appreciation of you. Every once in a while, you would turn to him with a spoonful of the dish in your hand and ask him to have a taste — it was his turn to contribute to the cooking. It made him feel important and involved and like he was sharing a special moment with you.

“How is it, James?”

“As perfect and delicious as always!” he replies happily, licking his lips and grinning even wider when he hears your melodious giggle follow straight after.

“I couldn’t have done it without your immaculate taste in food,” you would humbly reply, cupping his cheek and staring into his eyes with what he wants to deem as love and affection from someone who’s more than a friend. That small moment of joy, however, is quickly broken as soon as you turn your attention away from him. James fights the urge to turn you back to him, lean forward and capture your lips in a heated kiss, a plea and desperate attempt at convincing you to love him, Sirius and Remus as official partners.

You don’t feel like a friend when you would go out of your way to be there for James whenever something was happening in his life, big or small — you were there for him when he was getting ready for his job interview, when he got the job, got his first promotion, when he wanted to eat lunch with someone because he felt lonelier than usual; you were there for everything and so much more.

It only felt natural for them to take that final step with you but, just like how nerve wracking it was for them to confess to one another, it was the same apprehension that clogged up their throats and made it difficult to form the words.

“What’s wrong, you guys?” your soft voice pulls them out of their concentrated apprehension. It was the usual Saturday lunch you spent at their flat except, this time, they cooked the meal for you — it was a pleasant surprise, especially when their cooking turned out better than it typically did. For a while, you were the only eating the food, ignorant to their spiralling thoughts. However, when you finally did notice, the concern was evident in your eyes, largely because James wasn’t hoovering up his food like he usually was, nor was Remus engaging in conversation with you about the book you were both reading together, nor was Sirius subconsciously expressing his deeply learned table etiquette and reprimanding James of his lack of manners like a mother hen. Today, they shared the same daunting expression and it was contagious, rubbing off on you like the plague.

“We uhhh…” Remus begins, gulping with difficulty as he shares a look with the others, “we have something to ask you…”

“What is it?” your question is filled with caution, a direct response to their strange unease around you, “You guys are acting very stra—”

“We love you!” James blurts out which immediately diminishes your worries and draws an adorable giggle from you, one that they all melt over.

“I love you guys too,” with a smile, you happily continue your meal and completely miss their intentions.

“No,” Remus says, “not like that…” his statement makes your brows raise in shock, you search their eyes for answers as your heart begins to race — both from fear and a hint of hope.

“More than that type of love, dollface,” Sirius clarifies, hoping that it was enough for you to understand them.

James reaches over and touches your hand, caressing your knuckles tenderly with his thumb, “we don’t just love you, we want to love you,” it was a little saying between you and James, one that made you fall in love with him and eventually Sirius and Remus too.

With happy tears welling up in your eyes, you look into James’ hazel pools and finally finally see the abundance of love swimming in them, only for you, “like the verb?” you ask in a tear-filled, weak voice.

James laughs and nods eagerly as Remus and Sirius smile fondly at you, the latter of the two reaching out to gently wipe your face of the tears spilling past your waterline, “like the verb, love,” James brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them lovingly.

Your answering nod was all they needed to round the table and pull you into an embrace, their lips eager to meet yours in a passionate and loving embrace.

1K MILESTONE EVENT : CLOSED | NAVI.

#☀︎ : 1k milestone #☀︎ : 1k #🍪 : cookie 1k #james potter x reader #james potter #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius x reader #james potter x you #remus x reader #poly marauders #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders imagine #hp marauders #marauders fluff #marauders x reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 days

Text

is that tax fraud?

for @corrodedcoffinfest warm-up round prompt ‘taxes’

rated t | 671 words | cw: language | tags: they’re just so stupid, and I love them, look Steve is here!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never filed taxes?” Jeff asked Gareth as they sat around trying to write a song.

Keyword: trying.

Now it looked like they were gonna be figuring out how to keep Gareth out of fucking prison for tax fraud.

“I thought our band accountant handled it!” Gareth exclaimed.

“We don’t have a band accountant! The label just handles our money!” Jeff exclaimed back.

“Okay, let’s calm down.” Eddie, the voice of reason at this moment, held his hands up towards them. “Technically, Gareth only turned 18 two years ago. That’s only two years of back taxes. And if he’s honest, it’ll be fine! He probably didn’t even make enough the first year for them to care.”

“Well, I did get an inheritance from my grandpa who died,” Gareth said unhelpfully. “Does that count as income?”

Everyone stared at him in shock.

“This is a joke,” Freak said from his spot on the couch. “Has to be.”

“Oh my god, our drummer is actively committing tax fraud,” Jeff put his head in his hands.

“Guys, it’s fine! I’ll just file it all this year,” Gareth assured them.

“We should call someone. Right? Someone should be told about this,” Eddie started pacing the floor, wearing a trail into the shag carpet.

Who even put shag carpet in here? Shag was terrible.

The door swung open and Steve walked in holding three large pizzas and a grocery bag full of sodas.

“They didn’t have any Mountain Dew, but that’s probably for the best. You guys have a conference call in an hour so eat up,” he said as he started setting everything on the coffee table. He looked around when he realized it was way too quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Stevie. I fear our drummer may be going to prison.”

Steve paled. “What? Why?”

“He forgot to tell the government he has money. For two years.”

“He what?” Steve looked at Gareth to explain.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to file my own taxes! I thought we had a guy!”

Steve looked between all of them. He looked at Gareth.

“You do have a guy. The label provides a guy. I think his name is Sam? Maybe Shane.” Steve shook his head. “Either way. You have a tax guy. He filed for all of you last year.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

“What do you mean? We all filed for ourselves last year. Except Gareth, apparently,” Jeff was frowning at the floor.

“Uh, well, you may have given double the money, then,” Steve laughed, though this wasn’t exactly funny.

“So let me get this straight: the label provided a guy to do our taxes without telling us. We all file our own taxes after this guy already did. No one caught it. Gareth’s the only one who hasn’t double paid into the fucking government?” Eddie asked, face red with shame or anger, it was hard to say which.

“Yeah, appears so.”

“Fuck you guys. Had me worried I was going to prison and I’m the only one who’s done shit right!” Gareth laughed. He reached for a slice of pizza and sat back in his chair, smug smile on his face. “Feels good to have my taxes paid.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Freak rolled his eyes. “So how do we get money back if we double filed?”

“Not sure we can,” Jeff sighed. “Probably isn’t worth figuring it out anyway. It’s not like we were rolling in for last year’s taxes.”

“But this year…” Eddie started.

They all looked at each other and nodded.

Yeah. This year would be different. They’d skyrocketed after the release of their first album and their first tour. Money was…pretty fucking great.

“So…pizza?” Steve asked.

They all nodded and started grabbing for their food.

“If you guys want, I’m sure Nancy can try to find a way to get money back. She’s good at that stuff,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, she’d call us idiots.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Hey!”

#corroded coffin #eddie munson #gareth emerson #jeff #freak #steve harrington #corrodedcoffinfest #drabble

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itoshi-s · 1 year

Text

@marycorn requested: rin + bathing with him // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wc: 1.7k. cw: fem reader (referred to as woman like, once), fluff, rin isn't all that used to love :,3

"you're feeling more like oat milk and vanilla, or.." you pause, twisting the jar so you can read the label properly, "oh, you like this one- lavender and lemon?"

you hold up the candles, lifting them respectively as you speak, only to find rin - the very one your question is directed at - still staring at his phone intently as he rubs the back of his neck. the little frown etched between his brows and tense stance of his broad shoulders make him seem entirely too stressed for your liking.

"rin?" you ask again, putting one of the jars down on the counter. "you okay?"

it's only the lighter flicking that makes him snap out of his stupor. he glances over, teal eyes a bit confused until they settle on the candle you lit up - his favorite.

(it's hard to call it a favorite when it's actually the only scent he enjoys among all your other gourmand and flowery ones.)

"hm? yeah, sorry." rin sighs and locks his phone, setting it down before reaching to pull his hoodie off. "just some press shit before the season starts. had to catch up." he explains, voice muffled by the thick cotton over his mouth before he fully peels the garment off.

"'s alright." you hum softly, hand dipping into the bath water to check temperature. "i just don't like seeing you all pent up like that."

now, rin doesn't like how it feels, either. perhaps that's why he values his routine so much - the daily schedule he's been following ever since he realized how serious he is about football. morning stretch, breakfast, practice, lunch, gym, going home, dinner, evening yoga, then some meditation to finish the day. sounds like a lot — and it definitely is — but surprisingly so, it doesn’t feel as tiring as it might seem.

rin’s never really thought this tight schedule of his lacked anything, either — at least not until you crawled your way right into his heart, albeit a little too cold but oh, so aching for love still, and made yourself home in the long abandoned space. it's only natural you came with a whole package - all your silly candles, drawers full of various bath bombs and salts, and far too many masks to count, which you always looked so ecstatic to put on his face.

you came with your own little routine - one that fit so perfectly into his, it's almost as if it was fate's doing.

perhaps, this is exactly what he needed at the end of his day - your skin on his, head tilted back to rest on his shoulder as you listen to him speak, so intently and calmly as always. maybe, the feel of your fingers in his hair, tenderly pushing the bangs out of his face as you grin upon the sight - here's my handsome boy - is the little piece he longed for everyday.

(love, he thinks is the right word for it. he needed your love - but despite getting better at voicing out his feelings over the years, it's still far too sappy to admit to out loud.)

snapping out of thought, rin shakes his head. “yeah, me neither.” the man mumbles under his breath, and you need to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s just teasing — voice far too tired to make out the tone. “if they end up calling again, it's better cause someone's dead or some shit. not picking up otherwise.”

you laugh, and rin’s mouth curls into a rare smile.

“wow," you mumble, "that’s not very captain of you." you tease, to which he snorts.

"not very teammate of them to be such idiots either." you'd suppose there would be more of a bite to his tone as he retorts, but it's surprisingly gentle as he allows his gaze to rest on your silhouette, taking in the image of you slipping the silk robes off your shoulders and exposing the soft skin underneath. he sniffs shortly, "whatever. let's not talk about 'em anymore."

you only give a slight chuckle in reply as you slip into the bathtub, followed by a content sigh. the bubbles have grown thick and luscious, nearly covering most of your body once you’re fully submerged in the glittery lilac water, and rin’s cheeks grow warm in time with your own. yours, because the water is indeed just a bit too hot even for your liking; his, because you look so fucking sweet, a sight for his sore eyes.

pulling your knees chose to your chest, you squirm forward to make space behind you. "c'mon, it's gonna run cold-"

"shut up, woman," rin mutters under his breath as he steps in behind your back, lowering himself and pulling you flush against his chest once he's fully seated. the water sloshes over the edges at his sudden motion and you gasp - both at the mess and his jab.

"hey!" you try to turn in his grasp, but the way it tightens keeps you locked in place. rin laughs by your ear as you lean your head back with a pout. "it's the first time in, like, forever that we have time for this, and that's the treatment i get?"

rin gives your frame a squeeze again, paired with a chaste kiss pressed to the crook of your neck. you lean your head to the side, allowing more space, and it's almost muscle memory by this point - merely an instinct and unconscious thought that makes rin's heart jolt.

it has been a while, indeed, rin figures. you've been both way too busy with work to make way for the small things, pieces of your daily routines that in the end made the day feel this much better. now, he's not exactly sure how did all of... this become a regular routine for you two, but it has quickly turned out to be the very thing both his mind and body long for whenever it's time for a break.

maybe the lack of time was the cause of his annoyance spiking these past few days, eyes rolling upon the most minor inconveniences. he's never been the calmest type around the team, but it was truly best to keep your mouth around him lately. (if there has to be one person to ask about it, it's ryusei. as always.)

as rin inhales your scent, mixing with the faint citrus of the bubblebath and calming lavender the candle diffuses, he realizes that he's missed you.

long eyelashes flutter against your shoulder as he closes his eyes, hands starting to roam down your waist and grope their way to your hips where they finally settle.

"i missed you." rin admits, albeit to his own surprise - and it seems like yours, too, if the way your fingers flex on his knee is anything to go by. he noses at your neck and feels his shoulders finally loosen up. "missed this, i mean."

you shift in your seat slightly, back pressing against the firm planes of his chest even further, until you can nearly feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"me too." you say softly, one hand slipping to rest on his bicep instead while the other guides his other arm to wrap around your chest again. you squeeze it tight and turn your head to get a better look of rin's face. "it's not as fun without you anymore, yanno?"

rin must sense your gaze on him, cause as soon as you're done speaking, his head lifts from it's spot on your shoulder and turquoise eyes lock with yours. a small smile breaks across your face as you reach a hand up, pushing back the bangs that already start to stick to his forehead.

"you're telling me i'm fun?" the ravenette mumbles, corners of his lips pulling upwards when you go to mess with his hair.

your chest squeezes with adoration upon the sight - handsome, refined features on show, paired with the dearest look anyone could ever grace you with. sheepishly, you nuzzle your face against rin's neck and nod. "well- sometimes." you murmur and feel his throat vibrate with a laugh.

"took you long enough t' admit." rin snickers, straightening his legs a tad more as he leans back, until the water reaches shy past your collarbones. "you wanna tell me something else while we're at it, baby?" he taunts, head tipping down just slightly to steal a look at your face, still snugly fit in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

"mmhm, i just might." you hum, "i love you, dummy," you sigh, holding back an amused smile as you push yourself up. sitting up straight, you look back over your shoulder just in time to spot the very sight you've longed after for the past few days - teal eyes just barely hooded yet sparkling with so much affection, and a content smile to pair with.

you watch silently as rin rolls his shoulders back, arms moving to rest over the edge of the tub. it's been a little while since you've last seen his body this relaxed, lean muscles all loosened up and frame seemingly even more broad now as he rests.

"i love you, too," the man replies, feeling his smile widen upon noticing your lips curl up in a grin of your own as well. perhaps it's just these silly essential oils you've loaded the bath water with, or maybe it's the temperature and steam in general, cause there's a giddy feeling gnawing away at his chest and a loop pulling at his heart that makes it just a tad harder to breathe properly.

(it's the same sensation that only ever creeps up on him when he looks at you. love, rin thinks. he can voice it out all he wants, bare his heart for you countless times - but he's never getting used to how dizzy it makes him, searing hot in his veins and cotton-like in his head.)

a sense of serenity swirls around the room and mixes with the delicate lavender as silence falls over the both of you, other than the gentle fizz of bubbles and flicker of the candle. you hold rin's gaze as he breathes, chest in a steady rise and fall until he opens his mouth to speak - and you're surprised he's only ever asking for it now.

"wash my hair, please?" rin speaks - quietly and meekly so, as if you ever denied him the thing - and you roll your eyes, hand already reaching towards the stand to fetch the shampoo bottle as you smile, feeling so lovesick your chest hollows.

"thought you'd never ask."

#୨୧ 𝑁𝑂 𝐿𝑈𝐾𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 #✧.* zaria writes #thank you for requesting luv !! & for your kind words as well < 3 #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #bllk x you #itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock imagines #itoshi rin #blue lock

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c-h-i-m-es · 4 months

Text

fushiguro megumi

might be a bit ooc? but anyways enjoy😋

"i hate winter sometimes." your friend, kugisaki says as she links her arm with yours, in attempt to get some of your warmth. "but like, it's so fun dressing in winter, you know?"

"so true. dressing up in winter clothes just feels fancy and all." you chuckle, finally reaching the cafe and pushing the door open. you hold the door for your friend and get a table for two. right beside the window so you can see the snow falling and piling up on the ground.

"the usual?" kugisaki asks, putting her bag on the table. you nod and watch her walk to the counter to place your order. there are a few people in front of her in the counter. out of which you see the guy that has caught your eyes.

the first time you've seen him was at the same cafe while you were ordering your drinks and since then you find him the the same cafe quite a few times. you always notice his beautiful face structure. and the prettiest lashes you've seen on anyone.

you're so not complaining though. your eyes stay on him, watching him place his order and finding an empty table. he takes out his laptop and a notebook and starts doing his work. you look away before he could feel your eyes on him and label you as a creep.

you take your own phone out of your bag and check the new messages on your class group. kugisaki joins you, sitting in front of you with a grin, "your man's here." she says as she points to the man's table with her eyes.

you chuckle, "i know, i saw him. it's like.. fate." you laugh and joke about you seeing him in the cafe everytime before you go back to shit-talking about people. then justifying it, "it's not like we're doing anything wrong."

"right! we're just talking about the stupid things they did. and that's just the truth. we're not even making it up."

your friend nods at you with energy, "exactly, if you don't want people to talk about you, then just stop doing such dumb things."

you take a sip of your drink, leaning in towards the table, getting close to kugisaki, "and like how could she talk about," you fake cough, "sugar being flirty with the class representative in our group chat and then do the same herself?"

"ew i know, she's really getting on my nerves. everytime i see her or even her messages, i just feel the energy leaving my body." you groan, shaking your head and taking a piece of your tart.

"everything here is so good." you munch on your sweet treat, "i recommend this place to do our project."

kugisaki nods at you, taking a sip of her drink, "sure but what if salt or sugar see your man and start flirty with him? we're in the same group as them anyway."

you gasp, putting the spoon down, "don't jinx it, you dummy. i won't let them set an eye on him." she laughs and you wander your eyes to his table, seeing him already looking at you with an amused look on his face.

you quickly turn back to kugisaki, "he's looking at me." you try to look as normal as possible, thinking he could still be looking at you, "shit, was i talking loud?"

you see your friend, trying to hold in her laughter, "i'm sorry i think we were." you sigh, hiding your face in your palms, "see? these kind of things always happen when we're together. i blame it all on you."

"geez girl calm down. if he heard us, then at least he now knows about your little crush on him."

that was last week. and finally after a whole week of not visiting the place, you enter the place, which surprise surprise is where you'll be doing your group project. you're the first one to arrive so you order yourself a drink, paying for it before looking for a table that could fit all other four members of your group.

just then your eyes meet his. he isn't alone today though. he is with someone, probably his friend. you don't care since he is all you could focus on.

you quickly snap out of it, clearing your throat before walking to a table. you quickly take out your phone and keep yourself, busy just so you don't land your eyes on him again.

you feel someone pass by your table, you know it him. how? you just do. the washroom is down the hallway, for which one needs to pass your table. before you could dwell on it more, your drink arrived and you try to keep your mind on your phone and your drink.

just a few seconds later, you feel him stand besides your chair. "hi." you take a quick breath in and out before looking up to meet his eyes. you try and smile at him, "hey."

"i'm sorry for approaching you like this. i'm fushiguro megumi. uhm-" he moves his eye to his table, probably looking at his friend before looking back at you.

you finally got his name. "oh yeah no, uhm i'm y/n. hi." in the back of your mind you're debating what you should do or say. do you offer him a seat? do you get up as well? what do you say next?

"yeah i know." you look at him, surprised before he chuckles a little, "you aren't very quiet when you're with your friend." you could feel your face heat up, your hands automatically come up to cup your own face, "wow that's really embarrassing. i'm so sorry."

"no no, that's kinda nice actually. not you being loud but- seeing you and your friend enjoying your time. is that weird?"

"i.. don't know." you chuckle, gulping as you look back at him, "so.. you heard us? talking weird?"

"uh huh, pretty loud and clear, since i wouldn't be far from your table anyways." he lets out a deep breath, "what i wanted to tell you was.. i think you're really nice and i'd like to get to know you."

"oh." that wasn't a disappointed 'oh', that was a surprised 'oh'. because never would you have expected your "man", as you and kugisaki refer to him as, to come and talk to you. and definitely not asking to get to know you.

"wow, yeah of course. i'd love that very much." you smile at him, finally seeing his shoulders relax after hearing your reply. he takes his phone out of his pocket, "so can i get you number?"

"of course." you type in your number and hand him his phone back. he calls your number, you getting his number as well. "well then y/n, have a great time. i'll text you later, yeah?"

"sure thing. bye." you keep your eyes on him as he walks back to his table. his friend immediately wrapping his arm around his shoulders, teasing him. they seem to be done since they get their belongings and walk to the door.

fushiguro looks back at you, waving with a small smile on his lips. his energetic friend besides him showing you his wide grin and waving at you as well before fushiguro drags him out.

you save his number on you phone, quickly calling kugisaki. a couple of rings later, you hear the cafe door open, seeing kugisaki. you signal her to get to you quick, which she does, "what is it?"

"you won't believe what just happened."

#megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months

Text

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Two

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Word count: ~2.8k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Alicent's birthday dinner proves to be eventful in more ways than one.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

She flops down onto the sofa next to her flatmate, once safely back inside, huffing a dramatic sigh and replaying in her mind the mortifying moment that Aemond refused her kiss.

Mysaria takes out her earphones and closes her laptop, turning to her with a smirk. “So, sugar baby, how was your evening?”

“Shit.” She shoots back, dipping a hand into the open crisp bag that sits between them and taking a few.

“Let me guess, didn’t look anything like his picture?”

She shakes her head, speaking around a mouthful of crisps. “Exactly like his picture. I tried to kiss him and he said no.”

“Sounds like a win to me.” Mysaria says with a shrug. “If you can get away with not doing that sorta stuff and still get the money then you absolutely should.”

She sighs. Therein lies the problem, with Aemond she wants to do that sort of stuff.

The rest of the weekend passes by uneventfully, with no further word from Aemond, no matter how hard she wills for it as she stares at their existing text chain.

She has to suppress a strangled sounding squeal on Monday when he texts her while she’s at work. Her hand flies to her phone the moment she sees his name light up her screen with a buzz.

Are you working today?

She is almost embarrassed at the speed with which she replies.

I am. Why?

She feels her breath hitch as his response comes instantly.

I’ll swing by at lunch time.

She’s unable to concentrate for the rest of the morning, too nervous to focus on anything other than the fact that she’ll be seeing Aemond in a few hours. The time passes painfully slowly and she feels as though she’s anxiously drummed her fingers on every available surface until finally it’s noon.

She spots him in the foyer as she heads downstairs. He is instantly recognisable; taller than almost everyone, the top half of his pale hair is pulled back from his face in a bun, while the rest hangs loose around his shoulders. His fitted black shirt is rolled up to the elbows and paired with a well tailored pair of suit trousers and expensive looking dress shoes.

He gives her his subtle trademark smirk when he sees her and she immediately feels self conscious under the intensity of his gaze.

“Thanks for giving up your lunch break for me.” He says after she’s greeted him. “I figured it would make our story more believable if I’d actually seen you at work. We’re bound to get asked questions at dinner on Wednesday.”

“Oh…sure, no problem.” She feels herself deflate a little upon hearing that this isn’t a visit because he simply wants to see her.

“I brought you a little something, guessing you haven’t had lunch yet?”

He hands her a thick, white box that has ‘Cédric Grolet’ inscribed in gold lettering. It’s a bakery she’s read about in Time Out Magazine, but never visited. In her opinion, anyone willing to spend six pounds on a croissant has more money than sense. She opens the box, her eyebrows raising in surprise as she looks at the delicate pastry inside.

“You brought me a custard tart.” She meets his eye with a grin.

Aemond scoffs. “Parisian flan, actually.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks heat up as she holds his gaze. “I’ll eat this later. Don’t want to risk it around the exhibits.”

He nods, a mixture of amusement and something she can’t quite place evident in his eye as he looks at her. “Shall we then?” He gestures for her to lead the way.

She guides him around the museum and she is impressed with the depth of his knowledge as he tells her what he knows regarding Ancient Egypt and Greek history. Likewise, he pays rapt attention when she explains the timeline of the Vikings and Saxons, asking relevant questions and nodding enthusiastically as she answers.

For the first time in a long time she feels genuinely listened to when she speaks about the subject she’s so fiercely passionate about. It’s nice to have someone take an interest. The conversation flows easily and all too quickly an hour slips by.

“I should let you get back to work.” Aemond tells her, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the time. “I need to get back to Vhagar anyway.”

“Vhagar?”

“Yeah.” Aemond says, and for the first time since they met, his face lights up with genuine happiness. “She’s my doberman. She’s getting on a bit, so I try not to leave her with the dog walker for too long if I can help it.”

She feels herself melt a little at this admission. As if he wasn’t already perfect, he was an animal lover to top it all off.

He’s quick to compose himself, clearing his throat and returning to his stoic demeanour. “Anyway, I’ll pick you up at six on Wednesday, okay?”

She nods and they wave goodbye to each other. She heads back to work, a slight spring in her step for having seen Aemond. She can’t believe how much they have in common, smiling to herself as she wonders when she’ll get to meet Vhagar.

She’s brought crashing back to reality when her phone buzzes with a text from Aemond.

For working through your lunch break.

It’s immediately followed by a notification from her banking app. A one thousand pound deposit from A. Targaryen.

She knows she should feel elated by the money, but it’s a sobering reality check. He’s not your boyfriend, this is transactional.

When she arrives home from work on Wednesday afternoon, she is overwhelmed by the idea of having to get ready for Alicent’s birthday dinner. There is no way she can reuse the dress from Jace and Baela’s engagement party, and everything else in her wardrobe feels far too casual for a family as high end as the Targaryens.

She’s distracted momentarily when she catches sight of a package sitting on the kitchen side.

“Parcel on the side for you!” Mysaria calls out from her bedroom.

“I see it, thanks!” She shouts back, working to remove the packaging.

Inside is a Cartier box, with a note; ‘Would really like you to wear this to dinner - A.’

“Well, then, what is it?” Mysaria asks, creeping up behind her and resting her head on her shoulder. “It arrived this morning and I’ve resisted the temptation to open it all day!”

She gasps as she opens the box. A white gold necklace inlaid with diamonds, and a single sapphire at its center, rests inside.

Mysaria lets out a low whistle. “You could sell that and put down a deposit on a bloody house!”

She rolls her eyes. “I think he intends for me to wear it, not sell it. But what the fuck am I going to put it with? It’s going to look like I’ve put tinsel on shit!”

An hour later, having rummaged through Mysaria’s wardrobe, she’s finally ready, having paired a long sleeved, silky button down top with a faux leather skirt. Simple enough for a casual dinner, yet dressy enough to compliment the completely over the top jewelry that now sits around her neck.

Aemond arrives and is ever the gentleman, opening the passenger side door for her as she climbs into his car. Her eyes linger a little too long on the way his expertly tailored suit hugs his body. Thankfully, his attention is focused entirely on her throat, so he doesn’t notice.

“Necklace looks good.” He says buckling his seatbelt. “We’ll have to do something at some point about the rest of it though.”

Her mouth gapes open in shock. “What’s wrong with my outfit?!”

He reaches across, rubbing the material of her top between his thumb and forefinger. “Polyester.”

The touch of his fingers in such close proximity to her skin makes her feel so light headed that she can’t find it in herself to be offended. Wordlessly, he starts the car.

“So, I should brief you on what you’re getting into before we arrive.” Aemond glances over at her as he drives. “It's my mother's birthday. She won’t have cooked, she never does; she’ll have ordered Thai food. Her partner, Criston, will be there, so will my brother, Aegon, and my sister, Helaena. There’ll also be my half sister, Rhaenyra.”

She doesn’t miss how Aemond tenses up as he speaks of Rhaenyra. She can’t help but feel panicked at how intimate of an affair this will be, especially as this is only her second date with Aemond, if date is even the right word for it.

“What about the rest of your family that were at the engagement party?”

“Most of the people there were not anyone I’d consider family. My grandfather’s away on business and ‘Nyra knows better than to bring her boys. Mum won’t want them there. None of us do.”

The grip that Aemond has on the steering wheel tightens and his jaw clenches. She decides not to push the subject any further, it’s clearly a touchy one and she simply doesn’t know him well enough to pry. The rest of the drive passes in silence.

The townhouse they pull up outside of is lavish, a blanket of green ivy covers the outside. Aemond is quick to take her hand as they walk up the path to the front door. Her heart races at the feel of it, and she has to battle to remind herself that it’s all for show.

Alicent gives them both a warm welcome, pulling them into a tight hug with a kiss on both cheeks. She looks radiant as ever as she leads them through to a large dining room, with a long mahogany table at the center of it.

Helaena jumps up as soon as she sees them, giving them both a hug, while Aegon opts to remain seated, making a mock salute as he takes a swig from his beer bottle.

Aemond was right about the Thai food, as Criston enters shortly after they arrive, carrying several paper bags from a place called Patara and places them in the middle of the table.

Aemond pulls out a chair for her and she takes a seat, her eyes fluttering closed involuntarily as he presses his lips to her temple. A shiver runs through her.

“Get me a fork, would you, Hel? I’ll be here all fucking night trying to eat with chopsticks.” Aegon says, leaning forward to rummage in a bag.

“It’s Thai food, you eat it with a spoon, not chopsticks!” Helaena shoots back.

“That’s not a fork though, is it?” He rolls his eyes exasperatedly, pulling out tubs and setting them down. “Get me a fork!”

“Get your own fork, dick.” She fires back.

“Will you two stop it?!” Alicent hisses. “I just want one family dinner without an argument. Rhaenyra isn’t even here yet, stop opening the food. Aegon!”

She hurries from the room as the doorbell rings.

The mood around the table shifts. She notices Aemond rubbing his fingers together absentmindedly, his teeth grinding ever so slightly. Without thinking, she reaches over and takes his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, shooting her an appreciative look.

Rhaenyra sweeps into the room, looking glamorous. Her long, light hair is pulled into an intricate braid and a pair of teardrop ruby earrings hang delicately from her lobes.

“Apologies for my lateness.” She says with a tight smile. “Difficult to be on time when you have to make separate dinner plans for the side of the family that aren’t welcome.”

“Oh god, she’s started already.” Drawls Aegon. “Come on, who had ‘as soon as she arrives’ in the sweepstake for when ‘Nyra would start her bitching?”

“Aegon!” Alicent scolds him, her brown eyes widened with anger. Her face softens as she turns back to Rhaenyra. “Ignore him, I’m so pleased you could make it.”

The two women exchange a warm embrace before taking their seats.

The meal passes in relative high spirits, in spite of its awkward start. Expensive red wine is shared around the table, as they all dig into dishes of soft shell crab mango salad, chicken massaman and vegetable pad thai.

Alicent asks her more about her line of work, while Aemond interjects that he’d dropped by to surprise her with lunch. This little anecdote is met with excited coos from both his mother and sister.

He plays the part of attentive boyfriend perfectly. Dishing out food onto her plate, feeding her from his fork and placing his hand on her knee at regular intervals. The longer it goes on for, the more difficult it becomes for her to remember that it’s all an act. The way her body responds to his touch is certainly not for show, however; there is no pretending when it comes to the gooseflesh left in the wake of his hand on her skin.

As the meal is drawing to its end, Rhaenyra sits back in her chair, running her fingers along the stem of her wine glass. “So, I was planning on making a gift of Dragonstone Cottage to Jace and Baela, since they’ll be needing a place to live together once they’re married.”

“That’s not yours to give away.” Aemond tells her, staring at her with an intensity that’s almost frightening.

“Father didn’t name an owner in his will. Technically, as first born, everything goes to me.” She says with an offhand shrug.

“That’s such bullshit!” Aegon seethes, over the rim of his glass.

“Don’t.” Criston warns. “You’ll upset your mother.”

“Maybe this is best talked about another time.” Alicent says, shooting an apologetic look around the table.

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it, Mum? You never want to talk about it and she always gets her own way, just like when Dad was alive.” Aegon says, his voice raising an octave with every word.

“Oh, I think you’ve gotten far more than what is owed to you.” Rhaenyra glares at him.

Aemond slams his fist on the table, causing everyone to startle. He stands abruptly, storming from the room.

She isn’t sure of where to look, she has never felt more uncomfortable in her entire life than she does right now. The atmosphere around the dinner table is horribly strained and she is suddenly glad of the opportunity to play up to her part of concerned girlfriend in order to get away from it.

“I’ll…um…I’ll just go and see where he’s gone.” She says shakily, eager to get away from the sour, sullen faces that now surround her.

She finds Aemond stood outside in the back garden, leaning against the railing of the patio decking as he smokes a cigarette.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t.” He responds, taking another drag.

“Anything in there that you wanted to talk about?” She offers meekly.

“I don’t pay you enough for that.” He sighs.

Her face falls slightly at this. Each reminder of what their relationship really is is like a punch to the gut. She leans against the railing, placing her hand next to his.

“Whatever it is, I’m sorry. If you ever do need to talk though, I’m happy to listen.”

Aemond flicks the cigarette away, crushing it under foot. “I just…just once it would be nice to feel appreciated.”

“I appreciate you.” She tells him honestly, her little finger stroking over his as she stares up at him.

His face softens as he looks down at her and for the first time since she stepped outside she feels like he is seeing her, really seeing her. His hand moves from the railing to brush her hair away from her face and as his eye moves from hers to her lips, she leans up and presses them to his. This time he doesn’t stop her.

He tastes of cigarettes and red wine, it’s a heady combination, intensified by the plushness of his lips. All too soon, he is pulling away, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that.” He admits.

“But I wanted to.” She pleads earnestly.

He wraps his arms around her then, one hand clutching desperately between her shoulder blades, as the other buries itself in her hair. He kisses her like he is a man starved of oxygen and he needs her to breathe. She whimpers as she feels his tongue work itself against her own. Nobody has ever kissed her like this before, it makes her head swim and heat lick at her lower belly.

“Go to dinner with me on Friday.” He says breathlessly, once their lips part. “Just me and you.”

“I’d love to.” She whispers.

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yournowheregirl · 10 months

Text

part 1 [part 2 - coming soon]

Robin is panicking.

She’s standing in the middle of Lovelace Lingerie and she’s panicking.

There are two reasons why she has always avoided this place like the plague. The first and obvious one being the whole ‘I'm gay and if I stare at this model wearing nothing but a lace bodysuit for a second too long, everyone is going to know exactly how gay I am’ bit. The second reason is just a plain habit. She bought her first bra at the department store, she knows what brand she likes, she knows her size and she knows that she doesn’t want all the frills and the bows and the lace. Just a plain black or white bra (maybe blue if she’s feeling fancy), nothing more, nothing less.

That is until Vickie said something when she stayed over the other day.

“Why are all your bras so boring, Robin?”

Robin never thought her bras were boring. Sure, they were plain and nothing like the colorful lace bras Vickie likes to wear, but they were just there to serve one purpose - to hold her boobs in place while she goes about her day. Plus, before Vickie, she was the only one looking at her bra and she was doing just fine, thank you very much.

But Vickie’s words got stuck in her head, as they often do, which made Robin decide to take matters into her own hands and buy something that’ll make Vickie happy. A final hail Mary to make up for all the arguments they’ve been having these last few weeks.

Though she’s beginning to regret her decision as the sheer amount of choice start to overwhelm her. There’s just so much lace. So many straps. So many colorful bows and flower designs. So many things that say they’re bras, but look more like a flimsy piece of fabric tied together with two strings of floss.

In her state of outright panic, Robin rushes through the store and grabs one of each pair of lingerie that she thinks Vickie will like. She doesn’t even bother to look at the sizing - honestly, what good is a size anyway when this bra is just a bunch of straps and two hearts cut out of red fabric - she just grabs them all and heads straight to the fitting rooms.

As it turns out, she should’ve been looking at the label because nothing seems to fit or suit her. The fabric of the lilac one is scratchy and the green one is just plain ugly. The black one makes her boobs look saggy, while the yellow one is too tight and make her boobs spill out. And don’t even get her started on the neon pink one - that one isn’t even a bra, it’s a torture device.

Oh God, she’s never gonna make it out of this alive. She’s gonna die, right here in this pink and red monstrosity of a fitting room, choked to death by satin straps, and, and- are those walls closing in on her or is she just imagining things?

A knock on the door of the fitting room snaps Robin out of her downwards spiral but her mouth still runs faster than the brain when she calls out, “Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s... it’s Nancy? I work here?” A woman responds from the other side of the door. “You were taking a long time and I was wondering if you were okay, if you needed any help.”

Help. Yes, that’s exactly what she needs. Someone who knows their way around all these lace-y things, who knows what she needs to buy to keep Vickie happy and get out of here as fast as she can.

“Yes.” Robin croaks out. “Yes, please. I definitely needs some help.”

Robin immediately regrets her decision when an actual angel steps into the dressing room rather than an employee. And Robin’s not over-exaggerating, the warm light of the hallway does make it seem like there’s a halo around her brown curls, but it’s Nancy’s smile that makes Robin grow weak in the knees. It might be a customer service smile that she knows all too well, but Nancy makes it look genuinely sweet.

Focus, Robin. She tells herself. You’re here for your girlfriend don’t get distracted by Nancy’s blue eyes or rosy pink lips or-

“Wow.” Nancy breathes, looking around the mess that Robin made of the fitting room.

“I’m sorry! I just got overwhelmed and I just grabbed everything and then I just panicked and then- then this happened.” Robin rambles apologetically.

“Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse.” Nancy smiles politely. “How can I help?”

“Is this sexy?” Robin blurts out and Jesus Christ, can the ground open up and swallow her whole right now? Why would she say something like that?

But Nancy doesn’t seem all that bothered with her question. She just blinks and cocks her head to the side, examining Robin with precision in her eyes.

“It is from our Super Sexy line, so it’s literally designed to be sexy.” Nancy says. “But the most important question is, do you feel sexy in it?”

Robin turns around and takes a good look at herself in the mirror. The color of the bra is nice and the flower and butterflies that are stitched into the fabric are pretty, but she still feels the need to wrap her arms around her body and shield it from prying eyes. It looks like something Vickie would like, it’s similar to what she owns and wears, but Robin feels that it’s just not her.

“Not really.” Robin says softly. “I’m not... all of this. I don’t wear all this complicated lace-y, girly junk and- oh shit, I’m totally insulting your job right in front of you.”

Nancy chuckles and shakes her head. “Oh believe me, you’re fine. We have a lot of things that are a bit... out there, so to say. But if you tell me what it is you’re looking for, I can see if we have something you feel more comfortable in?”

There’s something in Nancy’s eyes that Robin can’t put her finger on, but all she knows is that she’s suddenly telling Nancy everything. From her bra shopping at the department store to Vickie (Robin’s just in time to call Vickie her partner instead of girlfriend) telling her the bras she wears are boring and how she’s here in the hopes of finding something that will make her partner happy.

Nancy listens and nods along to the story, asking her questions about her preferences for colors and styles and even though Robin has know clue what she wants or what she’s talking about, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles and explains things into further detail with no further judgement and that somehow puts Robin’s mind at ease.

Maybe things will be alright after all

“I think I have just the thing for you.” Nancy says. “What’s your size?”

“Uh, I- I think it’s this one?” Robin grabs at the price tag on her back, but she has to twist her way like a contortionist to be able to see it. Nancy’s at her side at a split second, looking back and forth between the price tag and Robin’s cleavage.

“I don’t think this is the right fit. Do you mind if I measure you?” She asks, grabbing the yellow tape measurer from where it was hanging around her neck, a stark contrast to the black dress she’s wearing.

And yeah, Robin does mind, actually. If the satin straps aren’t the ones that are gonna kill her, a pretty girl touching her boobs just might do the trick. Still, Robin finds herself nodding and lifting her arms above her head so Nancy can easily measure her.

The tape measure is surprisingly cold when it hits her skin and instead of focusing on Nancy and her lovely petite hands, Robin starts reciting conjugations of French verbs in her head. It does little to distract her, mostly because Nancy is standing so close that Robin can swell the sweet flowery perfume she has on. Nancy’s touches are light and of course, totally professional, but Robin still feels a goosebumps spreading across her skin when Nancy’s fingertips ghost over her skin.

Christ, get a grip Buckley.

“Be right back.” Nancy smiles as soon as she’s done and disappears out of the fitting room, grabbing the bras that Robin threw on the floor earlier on her way out.

Robin leans against the wall and sighs deeply once she knows Nancy’s out of earshot. She really hopes that Nancy wasn’t able to feel the way her heart sped up just now, but the flimsy fabric of the bra she’s wearing probably did shit at hiding that. Her hand reaches up to check and yup, Nancy was definitely able to feel that.

Oh God, why can’t she just be normal for once? She has a girlfriend for crying out loud! Vickie’s the whole damn reason she’s in this pink boudoir hell-hole in the first place! She just has to keep her eyes on the prize and not let Nancy derail her from the process.

Which is easier said than done when Nancy reappears with a new bra in hand. This one is black and looks plain at first, but Robin is quick to notice the mesh detailing and cut-outs, as well as the silver decorative thread in the straps. It’s simple, yet still more exciting than any of the bras Robin currently has in her closet.

“Just let me know when you tried it on, okay?” Nancy says and with another sweet smile, she disappears again.

Robin shimmies out of the blush pink monstrosity she still had on and puts the black bra on instead. She can feel the difference almost immediately - the fabric is soft and doesn’t itch, the mesh detailing isn’t overtly sexy but just suggestive enough and it must be made of magic because her boobs have never looked this good.

Giddy with excitement, she knocks on the door and lets Nancy back inside.

“And?”

“You’re a bra wizard!” Robin beams, gesturing to herself. “Seriously, look at this! I’ve never looked this good!”

“Just doing my job.” Nancy chuckles, a faint pink blush appearing on her cheeks as she looks Robin up and down. “Uh, how’s the fit? Nothing too tight or anything?”

“Fits like a glove.”

“Good.” Nancy says. Her eyes dart between Robin’s face and her cleavage again, her gaze lingering for a beat too long, before promptly looking away, almost as if she’d been burnt. “Uh, if you decide to buy it, come find me in the store and I’ll ring it up for you, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Robin replies softly.

Nancy nods and quickly walks out of the fitting room, shutting the door behind her with a loud bang.

As Robin puts her clothes back on again, she can’t help but wonder what all of that was about. She knows she’s not the best with social cues but even she can recognize that there was something going on there.

Could it be-

No, no, Nancy is just a good saleswoman and Robin is just a customer in her eyes. Nothing more.

Still, Robin can’t help but feel guilty when she feels her heart skip a beat at the mere thought of not just being a customer to Nancy. With a loud sigh, she zips her jacket back up, grabs her bra and heads back into the store.

She manages to find a pair of black panties that match the bra and armed with both of those in hand, she’s able to find Nancy on the other side of the store. Nancy immediately smiles when Robin waves at her and it does nothing to slow down Robin’s already rapid heartbeat.

“Were you able to find everything?”

“Yeah, got something to match as well.” Robin nods, awkwardly holding up the pair of satin black panties.

“Oh, I know from experience that those are very comfortable. Good choice.” Nancy says, and yeah Robin’s not going to stop thinking about that one, isn’t she?

She follows Nancy to the register and her mind is still a bit hazy as she pays and watches Nancy neatly wrap her new items. She even spritzes some sugary sweet perfume onto the bag before she hands it to Robin with a bright smile. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much for your help, honestly.” Robin says. “I mean, you saw what a mess I made back there, I was so overwhelmed and you- well, you saved me, actually.”

“I was happy to help, really.” Nancy replies. She pauses for a moment, a frown appearing on her face as if she’s thinking about what to say next. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I really hope you’re also buying and wearing this set for yourself, not just your partner. You should wear something that makes you feel good, not just because your partner wants it. ” Nancy says firmly. “And frankly, your partner is an idiot if they think you’re boring without a fancy-looking garment. Trust me, you don’t need all the extra frills and ruffles.”

That... That sounds suspiciously like a compliment, maybe even a flirty compliment and Robin’s brain does not know how to deal with that right now. Not after her meltdown from earlier, not after feeling Nancy’s kind eyes and cold hands on her, not while Nancy still has that twinkle in her eyes that makes Robin go just a little insane.

“Th- thank you.” Robin stammers. She grabs the bag a bit tighter, as if that’ll help her get back to reality. It’s still pretty hard though because Nancy looks even prettier in the daylight and- “I gotta gay. Go! I mean- I gotta go. Bye!”

“Have a nice day!” Nancy calls out after her, but Robin’s blood is pumping so loudly in her ears that it mostly gets drowned out.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is happening to her?

A firm hand on her shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and Robin turns around with a loud yelp.

“Jesus, it’s just me.” Steve says defensively. “Did you buy the whole store or something? You were in there for a while.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I’m good.” Robin nods a little too obviously, making Steve frown at her. Dammit, why can he always see right through her? But that doesn’t stop her from lying through her teeth. “I’m fine, Steve. Really. I promise.”

Steve hums, still unimpressed. “Alright. If you say so. Glad you got everything you need to woo her right off her feet.”

“Wha- what? Woo who?” Robin panics. How did Steve already know about that weird thing between her and Nancy? Did he have supersonic hearing or something? X-ray eyes? (which, gross, don’t use those eyes in a lingerie store, Steven)

“Ha, you sound like an owl.” Steve snorts. “But I’m talking wooing Vickie, idiot. That’s why you went in there, right?”

Right. Vickie.

brought to you by: me going bra shopping earlier today. also sorry to the vickie stans, i’m sure she’s lovely but she’s not gonna be lovely in this series. stay tuned for part 2! (kudos if you can spot an iconic line from glee that i just had to add in for funsies)

#ronance #ronance fic #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things ficlet #stranger things #ronance ficlet #am i turning into a ronance blog? maybe #but the girls deserve some love too!!#okay going to bed now bye bye

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