#‘⠀WEARING MY HEART ON MY SLEEVE ( PROMPTS )

[seithr]

top 5 blazblue character designs

YIPPEE BLAZBLUE

I feel like my tastes are known but I still will take this chance to gush a bit about the characters and design philosophy of em that Ive always been real fond of :)

No particular order here or else I'll be here all night formatting on mobile. More under the cut!

HAKUMEN it goes without saying I LOVE HAKUMEN'S DESIGN SO MUCH. The taloned tabi, the silhouette of wide pants and closefitted shinguards/torso. The faces/eyes scattered across his armour while the face is totally blank—made more unreadable and inhuman by the slats of neck guard. Fox-ears built into the helm shape to feel both animal and mechanical like antennae...and obviously the longass hair to sell the "tailed" look.

I remember reading really early on into liking BlazBlue—I can't remember the source, come maul me if I'm wrong—I read that Hakumen as a character and design was made when Mori was in middle or highschool, the idea of "what is really cool," and much of those ideas stayed. I not only really respect that and think its charming as someone who still likes MY own designs from that time, but, as it turns out, middle schoolers are still right. Hakumen is very cool. Augh. Fucking? Time travelling fox-robot samurai who's here to kill his brother to save him and also himself because his old self wanted to do the same thing for the wrong reason and thay thought disgusts him. Also him and Tsubaki in general make me start to choke (positive). God ok I have four more guys to discuss. Yes i also like Susanoo but I feel like thats a copout, I like that he's both animalistic and brutal martial arts as the God of War. Anyways CONTINUING

VALKENHAYN R HELLSING I will admit that he is an old man in a suit and that speaks to me but that he's one of the strongest beings alive as a old man in a suit ohh. And he's a werewolf ohhhh. Shifting just his body parts to kick and rip with his claws, quickly leaping back and forth between a normal bone-breaking jab or knee or biting and snarling—the dance between raw force and refined precision and a brutal tear's always been sooo cool to see and think about. I also think his ribbon in his hair moving to his wolfy tail is very cute. A man of sharp extremes from refined to flashing his fangs, human and wolf, cool and very cute. I like him :)

TSUBAKI YAYOI her uniform is so nice uruururururugh. Big cape and the way it drapes around her in combat like wings... Her sword and buckler/Izayoi looking so unique for being a "basic sword and shield for the hero"-type of deal! The eye on her hat's always been really striking too—the only "cold" colours being her and her uniforms eyes.....................Sparing a glance at Hakumen's recurring red eyes for no reason here. Knightly angel women and her flower-like "tassets" hanging off her clothes. Its a uniform which plausibly feels like it could be a uniform—she doesn't have anything uniquely "hers" or "for this female character" while still being really standout and clean. Her design's just really good guys. You can do so much.

Really want to mention her masked look too at least really quick here. my girllllll...

RAGNA THE BLOODEDGE well of course I really like his design. Yeah him being here is partially obligation because I love his character a lot but both things inform each other in the end. Mr Grim Reaper, Enemy of the World, red-and-black with a demon's arm on one side and a rebuilt one on the other. His big red coat and the oversize shoulders! The massive baggy pants—I love the silhouette he has. Blood Scythe/Aramasa/His sword transforming and able to clack around and shift's just. Always been such a cool design. Seithr-powered man, devil-smoke powered man, ashes of your own old dead self-powered man. Ragna is fucking cool auauauuuaghrhg.

And it DOES only make it more charming that he has a good heart, has a bit of a Kicked Puppy charm about him if you can pardon uhh that implication. He is just some fucking guy and he likes barbecues. He is sweet and cares for stray cats. His dad is a cat. He blows up the government regularly. He's a rebel who visually looks really clean if "intentionally trying to look like someone you should think is cool", which is both dork-charming and cute and also actually yeah cool because it's not a visual mess.

I like that his arm underneath is all belts and bandaged—Bloodedge only wearing half his coat for example is such a good look and it shows his clean black shirt underneath, which feels a lot like... Under that big eyecatching rebel coat of his (personality), Ragna's... Ragna, I don't know. I hope that makes sense. Knowing his personality makes me like his design a lot more than if I didn't I think.

As mentionned in Hakumen's block of text however: I already really like chuuni-ass designs, so combined in Ragna he makes me unwell entirely.

And last (I am running out of images allowed per post :((((( )

Kitty peepaw. I am cheating slightly here. I like the Kaka Kittens' big hoods too and think they're very cute and very eyecatching and I adore them always—the kittens especially being stompy little things that travel in packs are really cute. I love that Jubei, actual strongest thing in the world, has the oversized paw sleeves too. There's cat claws bigger than his body stored in what looks like emo kids' oversize hoodie sleeves. He's so simple and still the imagery of that coat gets reused several times over and it looks good every time. Orange kitty peepaw. AND he has an eyepatch, how can I not like eyepatches.

There are my 5 favourite BlazBlue designs :> Sorry if them all being C series or smth is boring wauh. I can spend as long as I want thinkinh about it but I do always seem to come back to these guys, give or take one change depending on the mood. Unchanging faves are Hakumen and Tsubaki for sure and forever though.

[demolitionloversleftalive]

Not to be weird because I hate when people are weird about celebrities because I am fully aware we don't know these people but. Ever since Tom Hiddleston became a dad it's SO obvious he's SO much happier and that in turn makes me feel warm fuzzies. I'm just like awww isn't that cute he's so happy I'm so happy for him :3

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@umbrx​ asked: ❛ look at that pretty expression. i always knew you could make one. ❜ / here to enable Hawkins x Ikkaku, so this is from Hawkins!

& more smut sentence starters (still accepting!)

Ikkaku moaned in response to his purred statement, not resisting as she felt long fingers wrap around her jaw, turning her head to face the full-length mirror Hawkins kept in his quarters. She had to admit, she did look quite pretty; cheeks flushed bright red, full lips swollen, eyes half-lidded and glazed with pleasure. She looked like a wet dream; a woman who’d already been brought to orgasm twice by her partner’s talented fingers and mouth. She watched as said partner leaned in to gaze at their reflections in the mirror, lips turned up in a smirk as he made eye contact.

“You have such an expressive face, don’t you? I can always tell what you’re thinking,” Hawkins chuckled, nipping at the sensitive shell of the engineer’s ear. The length of his naked body pressed against hers, and she could feel his erect cock cradled between her legs, pulsing hotly against her wet cunt, but remaining outside. A testament to his self-control and determination to put her pleasure first.

“Ah! Think I’m…that easy to read?” she replied breathlessly, arching her back as his long, blonde locks brushed against the soft skin of her bare breasts and nipples.

“You are, but I like that about you. Means I can easily determine if I’m properly pleasing my goddess,” Hawkins cooed. He shifted his grip to press two long fingers against the seam of her mouth, coaxing them open so he could thrust inside. Ikkaku could still taste her own essence on them, and her tongue stroked along the calloused digits as she sucked. This earned her a husky moan in response, and as Hawkins looked away from their reflections to pay tribute to her breasts, Ikkaku allowed herself to smirk, watching him worship her body in the mirror while reveling in the pleasure he bestowed on her sensitive breasts.

Yeah, she had an expressive face, but that didn’t mean he could read her all the time. Especially when it was so damn obvious this man had untoward intentions besides defiling his rival’s engineer. Really, even with his poker face, his words and actions were too seductive, too reverent, to be anything but insincere. Ikkaku was no fool. His interest in her had to be a front. It was obvious he planned on using her to get to Law somehow.

Too bad she’d been playing him too. She’d already figured out the schematics of his ship, taken note of the main weapons, and even managed to gauge which members of his crew were his top fighters. All of this intel could be useful to Law once the game was over.

For now, though, she was content to bide her time and enjoy the pleasure Hawkins offered. And if it happened to be good enough that it showed on her face so prettily, well, all the better to stroke the Magician’s ego and bring his own guard down.

Her back arched again as his mouth suckled her breasts. Damn, he did have a talented mouth. The way his tongue and teeth teased her nipples sent shivers and heat down to her dripping core. Ikkaku teasingly mimicked his pace with her own mouth. Her hands threaded through his hair while her nails scratched along his scalp. She felt his hips buck against her, and Hawkins released her nipple with one last lick, once more looking up at her. The glint in his eye told her he was both highly aroused but also slightly displeased at being caught off-guard by her teasing.

“Enough of that. Otherwise I’ll be tempted to replace my fingers with something longer and thicker. And those thrusts might not be so gentle.”

In response, Ikkaku ran her teeth along the underside of his fingers before releasing them with an audible pop. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Hawkins,” she purred, licking her lips enticingly.

His face twisted, and Ikkaku knew that expression all too well. The face of a man filled with desire, wanting to put a defiant bedmate in her place. A man who was inches away from snapping and discarding his polite façade to display a hungry beast within. He managed to reign in his expression, but his eyes still glinted and burned as they bored into her. “I have no wish to hurt you.”

Liar, she immediately thought, though she carefully hid it with a sultry smirk. “Then what do you wish? You call me your goddess; since you worship my body so well, maybe I could grant you a boon. Maybe I could get on my knees and worship your cock instead.”

Something flashed in his eyes, more intense than the lust from before. It was gone before Ikkaku could fully decipher it, but it sent a different kind of shiver down her spine. Before she could put any more thought into it, she found herself flipped over and repositioned onto her hands and knees on the king-sized bed, ass cradling Hawkins’ 8in long cock as she faced the mirror. His left him gripped her hip with a surprising amount of strength, the indents certain to leave bruises. Meanwhile, his right hand pulled at her hair like midnight reigns, keeping the thick locks away from her face. Their eyes once again met in the reflection.

“Tempting as that sounds, I want to watch that pretty face of yours while I fuck you,” he rasped, pulling back his hips and slowly thrusting into Ikkaku’s wet, waiting cunt. The woman beneath him gasped and moaned as his girth stretched and filled her, setting a steady pace when he sheathed himself within her to the hilt. “I want you on your knees, but my wish is to watch you fall apart on my cock. To watch you watch yourself fall apart. That’s a boon fit for a king.”

With that, he began thrusting in earnest, and despite his hold Ikkaku’s hips matched his pace, rolling back to meet his thrusts. In the mirror, she watched him watching her, noting how his own cheeks had some color in them, how his brow furrowed, how his jaw tightened as he observed her with predatory focus.

In normal circumstances, he was such an expressionless man. With her, he wore a mask of emotions. But right there and then, Ikkaku felt she was seeing behind the mask and catching a glimpse of the real Basil Hawkins.

He was a beautiful man, but there was no doubt that he was a sinister one. That dark, possessive look in his eyes told her that if it were up to him, she’d never leave his quarters. That she’d never go back to the safety of her captain and her crew. That for all he called her his “goddess,” his devotion was self-serving. That the moment he got what he was truly after, she’d be on her knees for him far more frequently.

Despite this, Ikkaku couldn’t help but whimper and keen in pleasure as he repeatedly hit her G-spot, the pain of him tugging her hair mixing beautifully with the pleasure of his thrusts. Her mouth fell open a bit and her eyes rolled back slightly as she came around his cock, her inner walls clenching and milking him as she cried out his name.

“Hawkins!”

It was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly Ikkaku was no longer held up to watch in the mirror, but instead her face was pressed into the silk sheets of the bed. She was forced to lay prostrate as Hawkins fucked her with all of his might, the sounds of his heavy breathing and flesh hitting flesh filling Ikkaku’s ears along with her own pounding heartbeat. Yet wasn’t enough to down out the whispers that left his lips.

“Yes! Fuck, yes! That’s it! You’re mine!”

With those words, he came inside her, his hot seed filling her as he rode out his own orgasm. Ikkaku took it all, her legs trembling as she waited for him to finish. Finally Hawkins’ thrusts stopped, but he didn’t pull out right away. Ikkaku got the sense that he was admiring the picture they made in the mirror – his naked lover, bowed and submissive, while he loomed above her, proud and dominant. She felt his hands stroke her sweat-covered body as he slowly pulled out, guiding her to lay on her side with a gentleness that was in direct contrast with the harsh fucking he’d just given her.

Curtains of thick black hair covered Ikkaku’s face, shielding her from Hawkins’ scrutiny. A few locks drifted away from her eyes, however, and through the parted strands Ikkaku watched him in the mirror, his expression self-satisfied and eyes possessive as he took in his handiwork. Then it shifted, a benign smile curling his lips as he delicately moved the hair out of her face.

“You look exhausted, lovely. Rest a bit. I’ll draw us both a bath so we can get cleaned up,” he murmured, pressing a reverent kiss to her lips.

“Yeah. Ok,” she replied breathlessly, laying still to give the illusion that he’d exhausted her too much to even get up. She did make herself return his kiss, closing her eyes so he couldn’t read her thoughts. They only opened when she felt the bed shift, and she watched him leave the room towards his private bath.

Though her legs trembled and she could feel a bit of cum drip down her thigh, Ikkaku knew she had no time to waste. Now was the time to investigate the Magician’s quarters while he drew her bath. Whatever he was planning, she’d figure it out.

Whatever game he was playing, Ikkaku was determined to beat him at it.

[hamadacare-xoxo]

tag dump! because tumblr is not saving my tags anymore and I hope this helps and if not, well ... idk :')

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny can you make me a chocolate cake with champagne served by mr.toto wolff please. Thank you for taking the order

bakery menu

if you want to submit your own order feel free! i've added additional items (prompts) so please take a look. as for this time, i've been waiting for a toto request. he's simply so dreamy, hahaha. but thank you for the prompt!!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by toto wolff (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, daddy kink (duh), size difference/kink (also duh), couch sex, lap sex, naked female/clothed male

toto noticed you in the kitchen, while that wasn't outside the realm of the usual. what he noticed was what you were wearing. what was white with logos all over, and what didn't fit you given your size difference?

yep, the jacket that toto wore to the track.

and you looked like you were about to get peanut butter all over it. silly little thing. you were currently in the kitchen trying to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to sate your sweet tooth.

you had stayed at home while he was at the track, it was far too hot today in monaco to sit around while a bunch of technical guys blabbered about upcoming races and what not. you preferred to face time your parents to see how they were doing. it had been a few months since you moved to monaco to be with toto.

it was quite the shock to your friends and family.

but now months later, you were in a routine with your (much) older boyfriend, happily going back to him on the couch with two sandwiches on your plate.

he chuckled and put an arm around you once you sat down, before he could say anything he was met with a half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich being put in his face. "schatzi." he said, "i know i'm young at heart, but i think i'm a little too old for these."

"did you eat today, hübscher?"

he couldn't deny you, he replied, "i had breakfast."

"it's dinnertime, toto." you said as you continued to wave the sandwich in his face. that was what he liked about you. the spoiling with gifts was nice, but you cared for him.

you wanted what was best for him, as much as he wanted what was best for you. and while he could pay for nice clothes and a university education. you made him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

he would say that the relationship was about equal.

"thank you, my love." he said as he took the half and took a bite into it.

you smiled at him and continued to eat happily. your legs draped over his. you loved being close to him. even acts like eating together felt intimate.

you soon finished one half of your sandwich before you leaned against him, the plate still in your hand "i missed you." you said, "i know that it's unfair for me to do so. one of us needs to work, but still."

he chuckled and took the plate out of your hands and put it on the table"i understand, my love. i've been thinking about you all day." he took one of your hands and led it down to his slacks. "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." he said softly. his voice in your ear. he had put your hand on the front of his pants.

"you missed me that much, daddy?" you asked.

he nodded, "i think you forget how much i think about you. every second you're not in my arms. i am wondering how you're doing." he reached for you and pulled down the zipper of the jacket, "i wonder how much peanut butter you're getting on my clothes."

your eyebrows knitted together before you looked at the sleeves, "see. nothing. don't lie, toto." you scolded a little bit, which only made him laugh.

he chuckled and took the jacket off of you. then it was followed by the rest of your clothes. he however simply got his cock out of his slacks. he was fully dressed while you were pretty and naked.

such a special prize for him. he groaned softly when you sank on his impressive size. everything about toto was just simply so much bigger than you. he was well over a hear taller than you, his hands were big against your smaller body and his cock hit against all the right places!

and he loved how tiny you were. so easy to move around to his liking. a perfect little pet.

you moved your hips a little and made sweet noises. it was cute. but soon toto's hands were on your hips and he was starting to move you up and down his cock.

you liked when he took full control. it felt right for him to do so. you could feel the heart leaping in your chest as you were moved up and down his cock.

you felt warm all over as you clung to your sugar daddy and lover. you kissed him passionately as you moved against him. your noises were so sweet, even down to your heavy pants.

his cock rubbed up against the furthest parts of you. it made your gut grow hot as you felt the buzz of pleasure in your brain. this felt amazing, it made it hot all over.

"toto... daddy." you panted.

"i know, good girl. you do so good for me. always." he kissed you once more as he started to pick up the pace with you. his cock was snug in between your legs.

he felt like home, all the way to the laundry detergent he used.

"i'll always be good for you." you whimpered.

he sighed contently, "good, good. i love to hear that." he picked up the pace of his hands on your hips. he bullied his cock into your sweet, gummy cunt. he loved the feeling of it around him.

he whispered sweet praises in german, you could only pick up on the tone he carried in his voice rather than the words. you managed to pick up a string of praise about how perfect you were.

"daddy, ah!" you gasped.

"good girl, such a good girl. all mine." he purred.

you came first. you held onto your daddy and let toto move your hips up and down his cock. you rested against him and let him move you to his liking.

he cursed under his breath in a language you couldn't make out before he spurted his cum into you. you felt warm all over at the thought of him marking your insides. you still held onto him and panted.

"toto... daddy." you moaned. it all felt so good through your body.

he slowed down until he got to a full stop. you rested against his broad chest and let him relax into the couch and wrap his arms around. he kissed your sweaty hair and let his cock rest in for a moment.

you placed a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat, "maybe tomorrow i'll come to the track with you. so you don't miss me too much."

he chuckled and said, "yes, it's almost race day and i need my good luck charm. my little schatzi." he said with a tinge of affection. he kissed your head lovingly.

you felt safe in his arms, however the activity made your stomach grumble. you looked up at him and he looked down at you. you said softly, "can you get me the other half of the sandwich, please."<3

[onsomenewsht]

from the vault:

she's unpredictable, unforgettable

》 Beautiful Crazy, Luke Combs

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 wear one's heart on one's sleeve [idiom]: to show one's emotions very openly

“My love, just one more”

“Don’t my love me, Williamson!”

“Use my full name if you want to make it believable”, she smirks as she comes closer to you.

After years together, the blonde footballer still manages to amaze you with that effortless charming attitude.

Whipped around her finger, that’s who you are.

“I’m still on time to call the wedding off”

“Jokes on you, we already signed the papers”

The work you’re trying to finish is forgotten on the kitchen island as soon as she slots herself between your legs, hands on your thighs too strategically placed to be casual.

Leah closes the distance, kissing first your forehead to then carefully graze her favourite features of your face – the tip of your nose, your cheeks, even the hidden space behind your ears.

When she finds your lips, the kiss is soft and tastes a lot like the comfort of home.

“Nice try, we’re still not adding another one”, you whisper with your eyes still closed.

“Oh, come on!”

“You’re turning it into a country concert”

“And how could that possibly be a bad thing?”, she genuinely asks, folding her arms in the stubborn way you learned to love.

A child-like behaviour that, despite her frown, always gets a loud laugh out of you. One more proof you actually just married a tall, blonde, stubborn toddler.

You prompt her to sit on the kitchen island top, holding her waist in your hands - work long forgotten.

“I want to renegotiate”

“Let me hear your terms”

You realised pretty soon in your relationship with the English skipper that the best way to deal with her in a mood to get what she wants is letting her think she can have her way.

The fact that you usually end up giving her anything she wants regardless is a completely different story.

“You let me add one more country song on the reception’s playlist and I’ll take that cooking course with you”

“You promised that three one-more-songs ago”

Leah’s frown grows in contemplation. You can’t tell if she forgot or she just hoped you did. Either way, she needs to find something else to bribe you with.

“I’ll dedicate my next goal to you”

“You’re a defender”, giggles escape you as a finger traces the deep line between her eyebrows, “and you already do”

“Ohi, I will stop buying those big boy shorts you hate”

“You promised that on our first anniversary and I can’t even remember how many times you broke that promise at this point!”

“I never promised that, I said I would try for you”

Another country song is not gonna ruin the party you two are planning to celebrate your marriage, you know that. But the curiosity to see how much she’s willing to put on the line to win this little game of yours is just too much fun.

“You could let me add it just ‘cause you love me”

“Already done that one Taylor’s Version ago”

“My love, please!”

The athlete’s blonde head drops dramatically on your shoulder, her arms enveloping you and holding you firmly. The calm lasts a second, though. Your hands barely reach the back of her neck when she sprints away with a new determination on her face.

“Just listen to it, you will like this one”

Laughs fill your home as she runs to find her phone, almost tripping on her own feet, to come back in the kitchen with a cocky smile and two country hats.

“Don’t even try–”

The acoustic version of a familiar song resonates in the room. Leah carefully places one hat on your head before finding the right key to join the singer in an quite impressive duet.

And here you were, thinking you couldn’t fall in love with her more.

When she offers you her hand, lovingly guiding the two of you in a slow dance in the middle of your kitchen, you’re sure she is more than the love of your life.

The song stops, and you don’t even realise. Her lips and hands fade the world around.

“Just one more”

[emilys-bangs]

congrats on 200! for the celebration prompts number 12 and 19 pls 😋 with emily giving r her jacket <3

Thank you! I changed the dialogue a tiny bit to make it smoother, hope you like it <3

Part of the 200 celebration

Word count: 0.9k

When you and Emily were tasked with grabbing food for the team back at the precinct, you hadn’t thought to take a jacket. It’s a ten minute walking distance at most to the one diner in town, so at your insistence you’d left the car behind—you thought walking for a while in the crisp air would help clear your mind of the case a bit, but you’re so frozen you suddenly regret your decision. The roads are slick with rain, the temperature dropping significantly after a continuous drizzle that you’d been protected from inside the precinct.

Emily’s shoulder bumps into yours. “What way should we go again?” She asks as you approach a crossing.

“Right,” you shudder, your voice briefly shaking. It’s not that cold, you try to reason to your brain. You slip your cold hands into the pockets of your pants. Useless. “Two rights and a left, then straight.”

Emily hums. When you turn to look at her, you find she’s illuminated by the lights of streetside lamps, her outline gently gilded with gold. Warmth licks at your insides and you turn away, curling your cold fingertips inside your pockets. It’s fall, you think grumpily, taking your hands out and crossing them tightly over your chest. It shouldn’t be this cold already; the thin long-sleeve you’re in hardly does much.

“Here,” Emily says suddenly, “take my jacket.”

You turn, surprised to see her shrugging off her blazer. Right under the lamps now, a sea of gold spills over her ink black hair.

Oh, Jesus. 

“Why?” You ask stupidly. Crossing your arms tighter against your chest, you feel your heart jump against your ribs.

Emily rolls her eyes. “Because it’s cold. And you’re shivering.” She holds out the blazer. “Take it.”

“Won’t you be cold, though?” Your eyes cling to the shirt she’s wearing; a v-neck, black and woolen, hugging her body in a way you only dream of doing. A pale triangle of her skin is exposed, and you silently fuss about the cold nipping at it.

“Don’t worry about it.” Emily says. When you hesitate, she swings the jacket over your shoulders with a small smile. “You need it more,” she murmurs, her warm breath hitting the shell of your ear, “I saw the way you were shivering.”

The scent of her perfume hits, doubled from the jacket around your shoulders, which also smells like her. Heat suddenly slicks your palms, and your pulse beats in your throat.

Emily gives you a smile, small and teasing. “Hotch wouldn’t like it if I went back with a frost-bitten agent and no food.”

The mention of your boss breaks you out of your daze. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, slipping your arms properly through the sleeves. Warmth encompasses you, along with another gentle cloud of Emily’s perfume. God, she smells good. “So this is all just an attempt to save your own skin, Prentiss?”

“Maybe.” She bumps your shoulder again, this time to get you walking. You obey, the fleeting thought that you’d follow her anywhere surfacing suddenly in your mind.

The two of you go quiet again as you round the left corner. The diner comes into view, a warm haven nestled between various other shops. You flex your cold fingers, silently wondering if you’d be stepping over some unknown boundary if you slipped your hands into Emily’s pockets.

“Can I hold your hand?”

Her voice, while sudden, is soft.

You’re momentarily struck dumb. Which causes you to say, “Why?”

Emily chews on her lip, and you instantly want to slap yourself. She recovers quickly, but a hesitant look lingers in her dark eyes. “Y’know,” she shrugs, “it’s cold out. Figured you might want to warm them up.”

It’s a lousy excuse, because when you quickly grab her hand before she can sink into her head, linking your fingers through hers, you find that her skin is ice cold.

Which only makes you grin. “Oh yeah, much warmth you’re providing me with.” You tease, fireworks sparking under your ribs when her cheeks bloom red. You want to kiss her so much it hurts, but a nagging voice in your head says not now.

“How about,” you say quietly, “we make a trade?” Emily’s eyes widen with interest and she shuffles a tiny bit closer. A smile begs to spread over your mouth, but you try to hold firm. “I keep wearing your jacket to keep me warm, and in return I hold your hand to keep you warm?”

It’s so palpable, what the two of you want, but it’ll have to wait just a little bit.

Emily smiles softly, her cold fingers squeezing around yours. “I’d like that.”

A passing car breaks you both out of your small bubble of warmth. Emily starts walking, her hand pulling yours to the diner. It’s warm in there, almost stiflingly so, but still none of you let go.

“Just so you know,” she says after you’ve ordered, leaning against the counter, “my hands are always cold.” Her brown eyes peer at you through thick lashes, and you have to force yourself to breathe.

“Then I’ll always hold them.” You reply.

Emily smiles and turns away, but not before you catch the blush spreading over her cheek. Her fingers squeeze yours and you squeeze back, a silent game until the food is ready for you to take to the team.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[cross-crye]

𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰

summary: twst & hsr charas with different soulmate au prompts that i think would fit them

incl: azul ashengrotto, idia shroud, malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, aventurine, blade, jing yuan, sunday

wc: 0.9k

a/n: after an absolutely horrific year i'm finally back to writing!! got half a lifetime's worth of lore in what is essentially 2/3 of a school year lol. but hey at least i got some new lore, so what better way to celebrate that then writing abt my fave au?

monochrome vision

Even the most powerful of beings weren't immune to the effects of the passage of time. After spending such a longevous existence in solitude, enduring loss after loss at every step of the way, he becomes resigned to the notion of forever living in a grey-scale world. Perhaps he wasn’t meant for such luxuries. Perhaps he was one of the unlucky few who was condemned to a live barren of companionship and deeper meaning. He could only wonder in the late hours of the night, or in the lonely moments trapped within his own mind while sitting at his desk: ‘Just what sins have I committed in a past life in order to earn this karma?’ Imagine his surprise upon upon realising that perhaps he wasn’t fated for eternal despair and desolation, and that perhaps, he himself had a chance to experience true joy. As colours bloomed in front of his eyes for the first time in his life, one so long others would struggle to count it, all he could think was that perhaps it had truly all been worth it as he gazed at you, forever ingraining the details of your visage deep inside his memory, to be forever treasured as the face of his saviour.

lilia vanrogue; jing yuan

matching tattoos

Wearing long sleeves, covering up despite the less than optimal weather for such attire, developing and maintaining a preference for the indoors as soon as the temperatures start to rise; anything to keep that damned mark hidden away. If nobody sees it, it doesn’t exist. If nobody can spot it and remark a similarity, then its not there. As long as he can keep hiding the mark, he can keep denying the existence of his soulmate. To bear a curse such as his is an already horrific fate, he couldn’t allow himself burden anyone else with it. It was like a plague, it would only continue to spread and affect others, drag them down to the depths of despair; and for what? He couldn’t let his feeble desire for companionship be the reason somebody else lost their humanity. Yet when he found himself doubting his philosophy after bandaging your cut shoulder blades (curtsy of having fallen into a thorny thicket on your earlier walk that he begrudgingly joined you on) Spotting the familiar mark on you was something he hadn’t ever expected. His companion and dear friend had been his soulmate all along, a shocking revelation which had caused him to impulsively lift his own sleeves and point to the matching pair.

blade, idia shroud

interacting within dreams

That’s what you were to him, a dream. Something he could only long for and yearn with the entirety of his soul yet fail to reach every time he tried. Despite not having even see your face due to the dream’s magic, your presence was deeply ingrained in his heart. He had envisioned you so many times, imagined what you’d look like, wondering if you’d look as beautiful as you sounded. You would overtake every waking moment, for his dreams were no longer enough, he would daydream about you, and play your voice in his mind on loop, all he desired was to suffocate in your presence and truly surround him in a way his dreams of you never could. He memorised everything about you, from what you mentioned to eat for breakfast to your aspirations and moral philosophy. If simply thinking of you hard enough would have brought you to life, you would have been born anew countless times. He could only live on in a prison of longing of his own making, every moment increasing his desperation to finally meet you and escape his mediocre existence. His obsession ran so deep he could perfectly render your voice in his head and hear you talk to him of thinks you hadn’t yet said. He thought he’d finally driven himself mad with yearning, hearing your voice while awake even when he hadn’t been the one to picture it, only to turn to see you for the first time, the image of perfection that even he couldn’t have dreamt, finally complete.

malleus draconia, sunday

countdown until first meeting

The little wristwatch was what kept him going, seeing the numbers go down was his motivation to go on, giving himself a purpose despite his lack of one in others’ eyes. Knowing that out there there was somebody who could truly understand him, who could see his worth and achievements in light of his struggle. Early on he had been victim of the critique and ridicule, but the hope of one person’s existence in contrary to this fuelled him to keep going. To strive to be better, to do something better with the unfortunate cards he was dealt. What worth other’s pinned on him no longer mattered, and as long as the ever-changing numbers on his wrist would continue to decrease he’d continue to prove the world wrong about their initial perception of him. All his life’s work amounted to this, the fateful meeting with who was supposed to be his one true love. As he continued down the winding streets of the town he could only anxiously stare at his wrist, taking note of the handful of hours left. His distracted state however, lead to him making the wrong turn and the counter adjust itself, not even letting him take in the shock of seeing that it had now only read a couple of seconds as he immediately collided into somebody, gripping the stranger’s shoulders to maintain his stability. Neither of you processed the beeping sound of your timers as you gazed in each other eye’s awestruck at finally meeting your soulmate.

aventurine, azul ashengrotto

cross-crye © 2024.

no reposting, stealing, copying, translating my works or feeding them to AI

reblogs, comments and likes are all highly appreciated

[007reid]

sub spence returning from prison :( hasn’t been inside for way too long and he’s extra whiny and sensitive </3 and reader is usually more teasing but after being so long she’s just soft and giving to everything he desires

FERAAALLLL!!! enjoy hun🤍

dreams. spencer reid (18+)

spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k (it got a bit out of control...)

summary: exactly what the prompt says😻 tiny bit of angst cuz it’s post prison spencer, cmon

warnings: sub spencer x dom fem!reader, masturbating (fem), unprotected sex, p in v, handjob, fingering, riding, creampie, cum play kinda. just spencer being a pathetic lil boy. tell me if i missed anything!

spencer’s been more closed off, and you get it. you do. you had expected more excitement, more of the banter and things to go back like normal like it was before it happened but you know it’s all wishful thinking. it hurts, to accept that your spencer isn’t really your spencer anymore, it’s that damned prison’s spencer; not your sweet spencer who wears scarves and has christmas lights in his eyes all year long but the prison’s spencer who looks half dead and trudging through everyday miserable.

you know he’s trying his best too, and that part hurts the most. he tries to smile for you, tries to replace all the pieces and put it back but no piece fits. you keep reassuring yourself. baby steps. you’ll make it work. you’ll have to.

today has been your favorite day yet, and the day has barely even started. instead of being on the other side of the bed, curling up into himself and staying as far away from you as possible, you wake up to find his head buried in your neck with his arm thrown over your stomach, curls tickling your jaw.

“im afraid to touch you, y/n,” spencer had admitted, his first week back. he looked guilty and ashamed. “you’re too clean for me to touch. my hands are dirty. they’re always dirty.”

still sleepy, you reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers, tracing the skin of his wrist. at the touch, spencer immediately jolts awake and backs himself up before the sleepiness even clears from his face. your boy used to be able to sleep through turbulence on the plane and your heart breaks at the anxiety in his eyes.

his breathing is rushed as he settles down, unconsciously scooting further away from you as you try latching onto the sleeve of his shirt. "sorry, i'm sorry," you whisper over and over. "i'm sorry honey, i didn't mean to--"

"i know you didn't," spencer snaps and you backtrack. his face crumbles and he hides his head in his hands. the table turns and sorry's falls out his mouth like rain drops during a storm. "i don't mean to snap, i just got scared, in the cell i..." he trails off, frowning at himself. ever since he's got back he refuses to tell you about anything that's happened in there, stopping and cutting himself off whenever he accidentally does and you guess it's for the better. "'m sorry." he brush away the sheets and gets off the bed. "i'll be right back."

you know better than to follow as he heads to the bathroom, door closing shut and locked behind him. you stare at the dent in the mattress that's finally there after sleeping alone for three months and hops off the bed yourself, going to make coffee.

***

spencer starts relaxing as the day goes on, not by much but you notice it. he probably feels bad for what happened in the morning and just wants to make it up to you by being what you want him to be; soft and affectionate like he used to and finally letting himself to touch you, linger his fingers over your arm as he passes you while you make breakfast and sitting close enough to where you both touch.

it's night, and you're in a simple tank, ready for bed. spencer's head is in your lap and the tv plays a random show but your attention is on smoothing out the spencer's curls, tugging and pulling until you get a purring spencer reid in your lap, eyes closed and humming contently to himself.

"you tired yet?" you ask, eyes on the tv. spencer nuzzles his head closer to your stomach.

"mhm. no."

"kay," you dip your head down, sparing a kiss on the pouting boy's lips, aiming for a light, sweet peck because spencer's not really ready for anything else otherwise but you're surprised when he starts to deepen it, teeth nagging at your bottom lip, asking. out of breath, you pull back and he sits up from your lap, crashing into you again and he's insistent, needy as little pants fall from his lips as you press him against the couch, climbing on top of him.

"missed you so much," spencer breathe, hands closing around your hips and tugging you closer. legs positioned outwards from either side of his torso, he moans into your mouth when the heat of your clothed pussy rub gently against his hardening cock and you miss this almost as much as you miss him, spending all three months either too depressed to do anything or cumming from your fingers and then hugging his pillow later.

you run your thumb over the spit on his lip, crooning. "look so pretty," you whisper, rutting against his hips. spencer whines, soft and desperate, a hand hesitantly coming up to grope at your breast, sandwiching your hardening nipple between his fingers. "been so long, spence, you forgot how to touch me?" you tease at the unsureness and awkwardness in the way he moves to touch you. spencer shakes his head frantically.

"dreamt about you," he says eagerly, pressing his lips on the side of your mouth and then all over your face. "every night. missed you so so bad. fuck, y/n," he gasps as you start grinding on him, impatient.

you kiss him hard, pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing as you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, just having him like this, pliant and here and not away. "what," you say, between kisses, each one messier and rushed than the last. "what did you dream about?" spencer whines. "hm?"

he falters, face getting visibly red under the dim lighting. he mumbles something under his breath, and you sneak a hand between your pressed bodies, palming him through his navy owl pajamas. "speak up, honey," you say, and spencer squirms, bucking his hips forward into your palm.

"i dreamed a lot of dreams," he says in a rush, breathing heavily, cheeks rosy. it's not the answer you're looking for. you tut.

"you know that's not what i asked, spence," you say, hand on his jaw as you push his face up to look at you. his eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated and lips red and parted, looking the spitting image of what you've been fingerfucking yourself to for months.

he whimpers, words stuck to his throat, embarrassed. you press your hand harder against his dick and his head knocks into your shoulder, burying his face in your neck, too humiliated to look at you in the eyes. "i dreamed you touched yourself and rode me and said i couldn't touch and couldn't cum but i did anyway 'cause i'm fucking pathetic," he confesses against your skin. "woke up and couldn't even touch myself cause of my cellmates and i--" your hands slip under his shirt and spencer does a full body shiver, your fingers hot against his skin.

"does that mean you haven't cum since you've been in there baby?" spencer ignores you, too distracted as you sway your hips against his rock hard cock. "spencer,"

he whines, and that's enough of an answer for you. "my poor baby," you coo, digging your fingers into his hair. "so wind up."

"need you," he whimpers, hands frantically clawing at your side, trying to touch as much of you as possible. "needa be in you, please. please,"

"in bed baby," you kiss him sweetly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he stands, supporting you with only one arm. you leave hickies on his neck while you wait for him to reach the bedroom, running your tongue over his skin to soothe them.

he lays you on the bed gently, tall frame towering over you as he sets you down but spencer still cowers under you despite it all. you remove your shirt and shorts as he settles down and when you turn around, he's staring, unabashedly, cock making an obvious dent in his thin pajamas, and the opportunity basically presented itself.

you start to slowly spread your legs, propping yourself up with your elbows and trailing a hand between your legs to rest at your lace panties. a devilish smirk on your face as spencer’s adam’s apple bobs visibly, brown eyes hungry and waiting as you press slight pressure on your clothed clit, knocking your head back.

spencer scrambles up to a sitting position, anxiously looking at you. “y/n,” he says, voice unusually high, flustered. “don’t—“ his voice breaks off as you start moving your fingers in circle-eights, sighing to yourself. “don’t—come here.”

you shoot him a warning look when he starts coming closer. spencer freezes. “thought this was what you wanted, pretty boy,” you purr. there is already a patch of wetness in your panties, and you linger your fingers at the waistband.

“not now,” spencer whines, insistent. “i’m so hard, wanna be in you so bad, please,” and despite how much prison had hardened him up, turned him into an entirely different person, spencer is still luckily the same in bed; easy to wind up and begs to get what he wants. too often it doesn’t work in his favor. tonight it might.

“you know what to do, baby boy,” you tell him, nudging your underwear off and tossing it somewhere in the room. spencer backs off, curling up into himself as his eyes remain pasted on you, watching. staring. you’re soaked, rubbing slowly at your clit, the air cool against your pussy. you keep an eye open, watching spencer for his ticks and reactions and it turns you on even more, seeing how desperate and needy he is, trying to rut against the sheets as you dip a finger inside yourself.

“none of that spence,” you tut. “you know that’s not the rules.”

he sighs frustratedly, stopping in his tracks, ever the good and obedient boy for you. you continue to play with yourself, slowly working up to two fingers and pressing down on your clit with your thumb, hearing spencer’s indiscreet panting from the other side of the bed as he watches, puppy eyes in full effect as he silently begs to have you closer. you whine as you curl your fingers inside yourself, and spencer’s just about had it.

“y/n,” he pleas, sounding like he’s about to cry. “i—it’s hurts, i wanna…”

you take pity on him. you’re all stripped naked and he’s still fully clothed, down to the halloween themed socks. “what do you want honey?”

“i—“ spencer gasps, squirming on the sheets. “uuhhgg…gonna cum i—“

“you gonna cum just from watching me touch myself?” you ask, amused. fair enough, he hasn’t cum in three months and you’re surprised he’s not permanently hard at this point. “gonna cum in your pants like a teenager spence? how pathetic are you?”

“y/n!” his voice trembles and he sounds so sweet, so needy for you and you give in. it’s hard not to, and you keep up at the act but at the end of the day spencer always gets what he wants. the begging strategy does do him some good.

you crawl over to him, placing yourself on his lap and he’s extremely hard beneath you, cock curving up from the thinness of his pajamas, getting a real good look at him. his eyes are rimmed red and tears are threatening to spill out and you lift his shirt over his head. “god youre so fucking beautiful,” you throw his shirt off the bed, tilting his head up to look at you. spencer groans at your words, hands immediately going to touch you, roaming your bare skin and nails digging into your waist.

“missed you,” he whimpers, lips at your neck as you get his bottoms off. “want this everyday, think of you everyday, fuck—“

“so hard for me honey,” you coo, stroking him through his underwear and then getting that off too. his cock, finally naked presses against his stomach, is a raging red, beads of precum leaking at the tip. “prettiest boy,” you whisper in his ear, taking his cock in your hand, smearing the precum over his cock as soft whimpers falls out of his mouth, inching closer to your touch.

“y/n,” he says, and it seems like it’s the only thing he can say. “y/n, y/n—“ you start to grind on him, sliding your pussy against his cock and spencer turns delirious, squeezing at your hips and wanton sounds coming out of his mouth, begging and cursing for nothing at all. the head of his cock rubs against the entrance of your pussy and the both of you moan, hips collapsing into each other.

his fingers finds their way to your entrance and begins prodding, and you whine as his middle finger slides in, thick and just right and it’s the feeling you’ve been trying to replicate but can’t get. “you’re so tight yn, fuck,”

“add another finger, spence,” you demand. spencer does, and the stretch burns only temporarily and you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and reeling yourself in so you can be as close to him as possible. lifting your hips, you start to fuck yourself on his fingers, impatient and horny and spencer is looking at you with fucking stars in his eyes, awed.

you never get too emotional or whiny during sex, that’s mostly all spencer but you can’t help bury your face in the dip of his shoulder blades and muffle your high moans against his skin, just glad that your spencer is back and this isn’t a cruel dream. spencer pulls his fingers out and you let out a displeased sigh. reaching down, you take spencer’s cock in your hands, smeared all over the tip with his precum and your wetness and spencer’s breath hitches in this throat, nearly jumping away at your touch.

you slowly guide his dick to your entrance, lifting your hips and all spencer does is watch, getting special treatment as you do all the work, slapping his dick against your pussy, eliciting a filthy sound from the both of you before rubbing the head of his cock against your open pussy. before he’s even in, spencer is already making these ridiculous noises, begging and panting and whimpering, hair falling into his eyes and sweat beading on his nose.

you quickly swoop down in a brave motion, bottoming out and it hurts, only temporarily before the stretch eases into pleasure and you miss it, miss him, so damn much and spencer’s already in another fucking world, nails digging at your hips.

“fuck, fuck, y/n—“ he whimpers weakly, chanting your name like a mantra as you start to move your hips, riding yourself on his cock. you know he can’t last any longer and you’re surprised he’s even managed to last this long so far, pulling out until your pussy is clenching at the tip of his cock and slamming yourself into his hips, and everytime time you do this spencer makes the prettiest noises, coughing up the moans struggling to come out of his mouth and tear tracks staining his cheeks, begging to cum.

“please, please yn don’t do that,” you do it again. “i…i—pull off, i’m gonna cum i’m not gonna last!” he cries, cock pulsing inside you and you know he’s not lying. you can read spencer’s body in the dark or light like it’s your own and you can feel your orgasm steadfastly approaching too, the heat building gradually at the pit of your stomach.

you start going faster, dropping yourself down to his cock and bottoming out at every thrust, his cock finding the tip of your spot every time. “yn,” spencer repeats. “gonna cum, stop please i—hnnnggg—“

“cum in me, sweet boy,” you press a kiss on his jaw, locking your fingers on his curls to pull his head back by his hair, making him look at you in the eye. spencer arguably looks the prettiest when he cums, and you never miss the show.

“i…what?” debaunched and fucked-dumb, it takes a second for spencer to understand what you mean. “you sure?”

“shut the hell up spence,” you groan, bringing him closer, chests flat against each other. you keep going at your thrusts, slipping a hand to rub at your soaked, swollen clit as spencer’s moans get higher and higher until his entire body is trembling, his eyes squeezed shut. “fucking—cum in me, honey.”

you know the exact moment when he cums because you did too, his face scrunching up in what almost looks like pain as you start to feel something warm bleed inside you and it feels like fucking heaven. your walls spasm around his cock, milking him as you orgasm, squeezing your intertwined fingers for dear life.

when you’ve both gained back your breaths, spencer lightly stroking the skin of your stomach where he can press and feel himself beneath of and you pressing more hickies on his chest and neck, you speak. “was that as good as your dream?”

your voice comes out more distorted than you thought, raspy and your throat is slightly sore. spencer laughs quietly.

“a hundred times better,” he’s quick to respond, earnest. “no brainer.” when you pull off of him and collapses by his side, he leaks out of you, wetting and trailing down your inner thighs.

spencer slides a hand there and slowly starts to finger his cum back into you lazily and you open up your legs for him, loose and wet from the orgasm. “you’re so full of me,” he says, sounding pleased with himself. his fingers scissors you open wider, patiently fucking you with them. you hold his other hand as spencer kisses you. “mine. all mine.” he presses down on your clit and you shake, your second orgasm hitting you like a soft wave. he keeps the pressure there despite you trying to close your legs, shivering all over, nipples hard and stomach rising. “all mine.”

[lxndonorris]

kisses and stubbles - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Smutish, Teasing, Touching prompt: "why are you looking at me like that? Are you planning to kiss me?" You're with Lando before qualifying begins, and he won't stop teasing you x word count: 1500+

It's always a pleasure to accompany Lando, your boyfriend, during race weekends, especially after he's been performing very well. This year has been a steady up and down, like an actual rollercoaster, but for a few races now, the Mclaren is pretty competitive, leading to more and more podiums for both Lando and his teammate Oscar.

Right now, it's Friday, testing day, and you're sitting inside Lando's private motorhome, a place you've learned to appreciate. You're wearing your boyfriend's merchandise—actually, his worn clothes; they're a bit too large for you, but you don't mind. After all, he loves you in those clothes.

With a coy smile, you're watching him put his racing gear on. One leg at a time, he slides into the lower half of the fireproofs. Its fabric flatters his body perfectly—tight yet flexible.

Lando's back is turned toward you, exposing his firm back, with all of its muscles tensing more and more. He runs both of his hands along his thighs, down to his toes, as he bends down. It is not only an easy exercise to stretch, preparing his body for the upcoming session, but also an excellent way to show off his beautiful physique.

Without turning around and looking at you, he knows that you're enjoying the show. Licking your lips, you watch him grab the upper half of his undergarments. In one swift movement, he slips inside it and adjusts himself and his body to the tight fabric.

You stare, transfixed, as he lunges, stretching his legs, his arms, and his back. He grunts barely, and as he exhales, he lets out a long sigh.

Before putting on his racing suit, however, he runs both of his hands across his entire body, including his chest, arms, thighs, and waist. Lando purrs happily as he touches himself gently. A shy smirk forms in the corner of your lips as you hold back a soft, breathless giggle. However, it seems like he might have heard you.

Letting out a low grunt, Lando turns around, running both of his hands across his firm chest. Again, on the one hand, it's to simply straighten his clothes, but he wouldn't deny teasing you at the same time.

With one eyebrow raised, he studies you. With the feeling of his burning gaze on your skin, you shudder, but try to keep a straight face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He bites his lower lip and subconsciously brushes over his crotch with one of his hands, while the other strokes his chest again and again.

Blushing slightly, you just admire his well-formed body and that he is willingly showing off again. Your eyes wander across his chest—his abs are slightly visible through the white fabric, as are his pecs and nipples—down to his thighs and right back to his gorgeous face.

Lando tilts his head slightly, still waiting for the answer he already knows. He's still trying to read you, knowing very well the effect that wearing his racing gear has on you.

"Why? Can't I look at my beautiful man?" You smirk, crossing your arms in front of your chest as your entire body starts to heat up.

He runs a hand through his hair and lets his eyes wander all over your body again, looking for anything that could give you away.

There is that special kind of tingling spreading through your chest. Any time he looks at you like that, it feels like your heart is accelerating at an immense speed, and your breath is barely able to keep up.

Mirroring you, he crosses his arms as well. Your eyes can't help straying to the strong flex of his biceps straining under the sleeves of his shirt before you pull away, meeting his gaze once more.

"I guess that's fair." He growls, but there is that spark hidden beneath his beautiful eyes that you know all too well. Your face heats as you imagine him pressing his bare chest against yours every time you lie in bed with one another.

Lando opens his mouth slightly and approaches you. When he stands right in front of you, he bends down so that your faces are just inches apart.

"I was just wondering." He lets out a guttural growl. "Are you planning to kiss me, or what?"

As he breathes into your mouth, your face flushes with color, and you feel drawn toward him, drawn to his soft lips. Your lips meet, and it's giving you goosebumps right away.

It's a mixture of his familiar sweet scent, the feeling of his soft lips on yours, and the excitement of being here in the paddock with him. Enjoying his light stubble as well, a smile forms on your lips.

You steady yourself against his firm chest and feel his firm body through the thin fabric of his clothes. Your thumb brushes over his nipple, causing him to take a deep breath before purring right into your mouth.

Once, then twice, you kiss him back, craving much more, but yet he pulls away.

"Mhmmm." He growls, one hand on his chest, the other gently on your thighs.

"That felt good." You smile shyly, feeling his hand gently pet your thighs.

"Just give me a moment." He smiles warmly. "Let me put on that suit, and we can go for another."

Leaning in, he breathes down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "Many more."

Straightening your back, you take in a deep breath, enjyoing the scent of his cologne tingling in your nose.

With anticipation building up inside your chest, you watch him put on his racing suit. He looks so good in his racing gear, and he knows it.

His suit is still unzipped, exposing the dark fireproofs underenath, but he turns his attention back toward you and sits down right next to you on the sofa.

Lando puts his arm around you, pulling you into him. You can feel the heat radiating from his body through his clothes, and right away, you let one of your hands slide inside his open suit, stroking his firm chest once more.

Enjoying this, he tilts his head again, biting his lower lip.

"I'm glad you could come this weekend." He growls and lets his fingers run down your arm, and even though his fingertips just barely brush over your skin, it feels so good.

"Me too." You say it softly and lean into him again.

His intense gaze ignites a spark in you. You can't explain it, but you know you want more. Lando's entire body is drawing you in, and it doesn't take long for you to give in to the tug.

Right away, he embraces your lips on his own, and as he opens his mouth to let out a soft moan, he breathes right down your throat. Waves of shivers run down your entire back, and you give in to him.

With a little help from him, you climb on top of him. He holds you close with both of his hands on your waist while you steady yourself against his strong chest.

Using both of your hands, you touch him and feel all of his muscles tense more and more, causing Lando to turn his head slightly to catch his breath.

"Y/N." He moans audibly and starts to stroke the small of your back, feeling your hands run down his chest, further down inside his suit.

Bending his back, he tries to make room for his ever-growing excitement inside his trousers.

"Lando. Fuck." You breathe deeply.

As you grind on him, he easily matches your pace and intensity. With one hand still inside his suit, stroking his chest and focusing on his pecs and nipples, you let the other hand slide right between the two of you, feeling a tent building up underneath his clothes.

Lando chuckles a low, husky sound that echoes through every fiber of your body, sending heat flaring in

your belly. His hips roll against your own as he adjusts to the rhythm of your hand now stroking his bulge through his suit.

"Mhmm." Drawing an unsteady breath, you lean closer to him, fitting the curves of your body against his.

You can feel the shudder of his own breath speeding up and the tightening of his body against yours as he desires you so much more.

"Fuck." He growls, leaning his head back against the sofa, giving in to your firm touch.

You begin to place kisses all over his neck and his jaw, enjoying how his light stubble tingles your skin.

Then, however, the alarm on his phone goes off, catching both of you off guard.

You pull away to let him check his phone, and with a huge sigh, he shows you the screen. It's time for them to join the others inside the Mclaren garage; it's training day after all.

"Two more minutes." You pout, and a wicked smile spreads across his face.

"Two more minutes." He growls and leans in to you, kissing you again.

---

[loungeact-143]

Soft Channie

Just some soft bf Bang Chan prompts. 🥹

• Soft Channie's love language is physical touch. Rather if it's holding your hand in public places, randomly hugging you from behind, or cuddling in bed. He always feels at peace when his body is touching yours. You've always been curious about his clinginess. Is it just his love language or does it stem from something? You've never questioned him directly, though.

• Soft Channie is always there to listen to you. He's made it very clear in the beginning of y'all's relationship that if you needed to talk, he would be there. He adores listening to you talk about anything. Your hobbies, things about work, or just babbling about this and that.

• Soft Channie who will do everything in his power to make sure that you're always okay. If he notices that you're feeling down, he'll have no problem making a fool of himself, just to make you laugh. (We all know that this is true, that man has done so much goofy shit on camera). If you were sick or dealing with menstrual pains, he would buy you medicine and nurse you back to health.

• Soft Channie's hoodies are basically yours. He's accepted it a long time ago. His heart melts when he sees you drowning in his hoodies, the sleeves being way too long. You love when his sweet scent lingers on his hoodies. You would wear his hoodies when he was away, feeling less lonely if his scent was on the hoodie.

• Soft Channie loves nothing more than to spend time with you. He'll always make plans for y'all to go out, he especially enjoys seeing what pretty dress you would pick out for date night. He loves seeing your excitement at amusement parks. He loves seeing your curiosity while being on road trips, exploring new places.

• Soft Channie who gets jealous and defensive if he sees another man staring at you for a few seconds too long. Even though Chan has many attractive Women coming at him on a daily basis, he's still wants your love and your love only. He still gets nervous around you, despite being with him for years now. It's like you have this spell on him. Chan is in denial about being a bit overprotective, his intentions are good. He just wants to protect you, and he will.

An: So this is my first time writing fluff. I’m trying to chill on the smut and focus on other genres. I hope this is good, uh...yeah that’s it.

[peanut-butter-parkerxx]

Summary: A baking adventure which includes a hot make-out sesh, a food fight and a whole lotta fluff and banter Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!reader Prompt(s): Friends to lovers, "i can't believe you talked me into this.", "Stop moving and let me braid your hair." Warning: food fight, kissing, making out, sensual touching 

REQUEST FORM II NAVIGATION

The kitchen is suffused with the delightful aroma of freshly baked cookies, and warmth  from the oven as Y/n bustles about humming a tune whilst preparing batches of chocolate chip cookies. 

Elijah grins mischievously as he spots Y/n carefully measuring out the ingredients for the cookies. With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he reaches for the bag of chocolate chips, skillfully snagging it from the counter.

Y/n's attire exudes a cozy charm, with a white long-sleeved cropped top complementing her figure. Paired with grey shorts, her outfit strikes the perfect balance between comfort and style. A cute bow adorns her cascading hair, which is styled in a playful half-up, half-down fashion, framing her face with effortless grace. 

Elijah: "Need these, Y/n?" Y/n looks up, surprised, but a smile spreads across her face at Elijah's playful antics.

"Hey, those are for the cookies!" 

Elijah chuckles, winking at her before handing over the bag of chocolate chips. He's clad in black pants and a cuffed white shirt, which he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows. Y/n can't help but feel a warm flutter in her chest as she watches him, appreciating the subtle gesture of charm.

"You look good with your sleeves rolled up like that, Elijah." Y/n remarks as Elijah grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement at her comment. He then adds with a playful smirk, stepping closer to her.

"Need me to carry you over there so you can reach the ingredients?"

Y/n rolls her eyes, laughing softly at his teasing. "Very funny, Elijah. I think I can manage on my own, thank you." 

As Y/n reaches for the baking soda on the highest shelf, her fingertips barely brush against it, and she sighs in frustration.

Before she can react, Elijah scoops her up into his arms effortlessly, surprising her. Y/n's heart skips a beat as she finds herself being carried, her feet leaving the ground.

Y/n: "Elijah, I—"

But her words trail off as she realizes the close proximity, feeling the warmth of his touch against her bare skin. The cropped top she's wearing allows Elijah's to use the opportunity to touch and caress her in a way that makes the moment feel intimate and sensual. His hand grazing her stomach and sending shivers down her spine. 

Elijah chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling her ear as he carries her closer to the shelf.

"Just helping you out, Y/n. Thought you could use a lift." He speaks as if carrying an entire person was child's play. 

After retrieving the baking soda with Elijah's help, Y/n holds onto the item as he gently sets her down on the kitchen counter. She watches him with a mixture of surprise and affection as he positions himself between her legs, a playful glint in his eyes.

"What are you up to now?"

"I thought I'd surprise you," he whispers, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. His fingers start to trace delicate patterns on her inner thighs, slowly inching closer to where she craves his touch the most.

Y/n's heart races as anticipation builds within her, her body instinctively arching towards him. His hands, both gentle and possessive, cradle her face as he leans in, his gaze ablaze with unwavering intensity, conveying both reverence and longing. With a delicate touch, he traces the contours of her jawline and collarbone, savoring the warmth of her skin against his fingertips. his expertise leaving her breathless. There's a softness to his expression, a tenderness that belies the intensity of his desire.  As their breaths mingle in the intimate space between them, Elijah's voice, a low, husky murmur, whispers words of adoration and desire, punctuated by the confession, 

"I crave the taste of your lips, the feel of your skin against mine, the sound of your breath mingling with mine." With a gentle yet purposeful motion, Elijah leans closer, time seems to slow to a standstill as he hovers just inches away, his lips tantalizingly close to hers, teasing and tempting with the promise of sweet surrender. In that moment, there's nothing else in the world but the pull of their connection, the longing that pulses between them, as Elijah leans closer still, closing the gap between them until their lips finally meet in a tender, passionate kiss.

Elijah holds Y/N tightly by the waist, pulling her closer to him with an unwavering determination. Y/N responds to his touch with a soft gasp of pleasure, her body instinctively leaning into his embrace, seeking warmth and security in his arms. his embrace is both protective and possessive, drawing her closer to him with a strength that leaves no room for doubt about the depth of his desire. Their chests rise and fall in unison, each breath mingling with the other's in a rhythm that echoes the pounding of their hearts. 

Y/N's fingers thread through Elijah's hair, a low rumbling sound escapes his throat, a mixture of pleasure and desire, as he instinctively leans into her touch, savoring the sensation of her fingertips against his scalp. His own breath catches in his throat as he draws her closer, his senses overwhelmed by the heady scent of her skin and the taste of her lips lingering on his own.

The moment is suddenly interrupted as Kol and Rebekah enter the room, catching them in their intimate embrace. There's a fleeting moment of surprise before Elijah, ever the epitome of composure, swiftly composes himself, though the flicker of desire still lingers in his eyes. 

As Kol saunters into the room, his eyes twinkling mischievously, he can't resist adding his signature flair, "Well, well, what do we have simmering here, lovebirds?" His teasing remark punctuates the moment, eliciting a chuckle from Elijah and a playful roll of the eyes from Y/n

Rebekah arches an amused eyebrow and offers a sly smile, her tone teasing yet affectionate, "Seems like we've interrupted quite the cozy scene here. Do I even want to know what you two have been up to?" She winks.

Elijah's lips quirk into a subtle smile, amusement dancing in his eyes as he adds, "Y/n was just indulging in her latest culinary experiment." 

Y/n, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks at being caught in such a moment with Elijah by her friends, chuckles nervously, "Yeah, I thought I'd give baking a try. Turns out, it's a bit more eventful than I anticipated." She shoots Elijah a playful look.

"Well, I must say, Y/n, your baking skills certainly have the power to surprise." Elijah gently gripped Y/N's waist as they stood together, his touch tender yet firm. With a subtle squeeze, he conveyed a sense of intimacy and affection, his fingers lightly embracing Y/N's form.

But out of nowhere, from the corner of Rebekah's eye, Rebekah spots the bowl of flour on the counter, calling her name.

"I call dibs on the flour!" With a grin, she grabs a handful and throws it at Kol, who retaliates with a handful of chocolate chips. In the chaos that ensues, flour fills the air like a soft snowfall, and chocolate smears decorate their faces and clothes. 

Elijah steps in front of Y/n, shielding her from the impending mess. His stance protective as he creates a barrier between Y/N and the flurry of flour as Y/N continues with her baking, unfazed by the flour flying past them.

Y/N lets out a playful laugh, nudging Elijah's side with a grin. "Well, that was a close call, wasn't it? Almost got caught in the crossfire there," she jokes, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Elijah turns to her, his expression softening as he leans in closer, his hand finding its place gently on her waist. With a subtle smile, he murmurs, "Indeed, my dear, but I believe we have some unfinished business," his voice laced with a hint of playful mischief as he draws her into another tender kiss, their surroundings fading into the background as they savor the moment together.

Kol, in the midst of the flour fight frenzy, accidentally flings a dollop of food that lands squarely on the back of Elijah's shirt. The unexpected impact catches Elijah's attention, causing him to turn around with a bemused expression, only to find himself face to face with the mischievous grins of Kol and Rebekah.

With a chuckle, Elijah shakes his head in mock exasperation, but his gaze quickly returns to Y/N, a fond smile gracing his lips. "Seems you’re not the only one in need of protection," he teases, his hand still resting on her waist as he leans in closer.

Kol seizes the opportunity to launch a handful of flour in Y/N's direction. The powdery substance catches her by surprise, dusting her shoulders and hair with a fine white layer.

Y/N lets out a surprised laugh, brushing off the flour with a playful swat at Kol. "Oh, you're asking for it now, Kol!" she warns, her eyes dancing with mischief.

As the flour fight reaches its peak, Elijah can't help but chuckle as he watches Y/N fully immersed in the playful chaos, her laughter contagious. 

"Alright, that's enough, children," Elijah calls out with mock sternness, his tone laced with amusement. "Let's save some flour for the actual baking, shall we?"

Rebekah and Kol exchange knowing glances, their laughter still bubbling just beneath the surface. Kol chuckles, wiping flour off his face. "Aw, come on, Elijah! Where's your sense of fun?" 

"I thought you enjoyed a little messiness now and then." Rebekah quipped, eyeing him and y/n as if to mock the intimate moment they've had a few minutes prior.

Elijah rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, a fond smile playing on his lips. "There's fun, and then there's flour all over the kitchen," he retorts, unable to hide his amusement at his siblings antics. 

"Look what you've done, you two!" Elijah add as he gestures toward Y/N, who is now adorned in a cloud of flour. "Y/N's covered in flour!"

"Well, it seems Elijah's gone all soft when it comes to you, Y/N. Watch out, he might try to put you in bubble wrap next!" Y/n blushes, feeling a warmth spreading through her cheeks at Kol's teasing. 

Rolling his eyes at their teasing once again, Elijah adopts a mock stern expression. "Enough with the teasing, you two," he chides, "If you're quite finished turning my kitchen into a battleground, I suggest you clean up this mess."

Turning his attention back to Y/N, his expression softening as he gazes at her amidst the floury chaos. "Come, love," he says gently, offering her a hand. "Let's leave these two to clean up while we wash up upstairs. You can return to a clean kitchen to finish your culinary pursuits." Y/N's eyes light up with gratitude as she takes Elijah's hand, a smile playing on her lips. 

[themillsdaughter]

a privilege I deprive myself of

Synopsis: you would rather chew glass than see Melissa yearn for something and not have it delivered to her. the thing, however, is that your life is a shitshow, and what was meant to be an act of kindness upends any effort you've made throughout the years to keep your feelings hidden.

or slightly insecure! Melissa and traumatized! reader in a Valentine's Day au inspired by this prompt.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Talks of body image.

Also, my first time dabbling in this fandom and character, so... Hope you like it!

This isn’t ideal.

Valentine's Day has never been your favorite. Truthfully, you think it’s only yet another excuse for Capitalism to suck some extra cash out of millions of pockets.

You’ve thought this your entire life, regardless of being in a relationship or not. The thing, however, is that you live in a capitalist society and escaping the emotional reliance on the holiday is damn near impossible. So, throughout the years, you’ve come to terms with at least doing something for partners on the day.

Well, that is, until you’d walked in your apartment one day and found your girlfriend straddling a woman you’d never seen before.

This year, you’re single, so the whole thing had just slipped into the background, a red and pink festival more than anything else, really.

“You’re not doing anything?” Janine had asked a few days before in the teachers' lounge, brow furrowed, pity shining in her eyes. Dear God. “You know, Galentine’s Day is really popular now.”

“Honey, I barely want to celebrate the day when I have someone. Why would I make a fuss now that I have an out?” You’d gone back to grading, trying your damnest not to roll your eyes.

“Well, Tariq used to be like that, too. Even though we were together. Sometimes he would forget and go on trips, and those times were pretty lonely… You know, with all the hearts and chocolate and candles and couples around. Not that that’s the case this year, you know. I’m with Maurice, and he’s super attentive.” Her uncomfortable fidgeting had made her chair squeak. As sweet as she is, she should really learn how to stop projecting. “Anyways, I just worry about you. I don’t want you to feel lonely.”

“I don’t.”

“She doesn’t.” Melissa had said, at the same time as you. Looking up from the papers, you’d shared a grin with her. “She has enough wondering thoughts to keep her company.”

Finally, you’d given into your urge and rolled your eyes.

So this really isn’t ideal.

“I think this one is too tight, though.” The voice coming from your phone said. You turned the heat from the stove down, placed a half-lid over the pan, and picked up the device from the counter. On the screen, you saw something that made you pull out a stool from your island and thank God that the woman on the other side of the line was too busy looking at herself in the mirror, brows furiously furrowed, to notice.

Melissa had her hair up in a messy bun, her old pair of glasses hanging in the middle of her nose, and a dark red dress on that stole the breath from your lungs.

The material was soft, with satin-like finish, puffy long sleeves, a square neckline that showed her cleavage to perfection and a skirt that hit her a few inches above her knees.

Nervously, her hands tried to smooth over the creases formed on the dress by her belly.

“Maybe I could wear some spanks” she sighed. “It’s too tight, right?” She turned back to where the phone was, asking you directly.

For a few seconds, you struggled to think of something other than ‘uh’ to say. Melissa is stunning and, in those moments, you wished you’d been braver back when you’d had the chance. Maybe, she’d be asking Barbara this, getting ready as a surprise for you, not for somebody else. 

In a breath, you swallowed that feeling, locking it away with all the ones of its kind, somewhere deep, deep in your soul.

“Hun? It’s too tight, isn’t it? Who the fuck do I think I am trying on something like this.” She’d taken your silence as disapproval, and if she only knew you’d only want to see that off of her if you’d taken it out yourself…

“Shut up, will you?” You finally said. “It’s gorgeous, it looks awesome on you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the nicest one of the bunch.”

“I don’t know if I have spanks short enough for it, though. And I need something to get this under control.” She pushed her belly in again, and it enraged you.

“Anyone who doesn’t find that hot is not someone you should listen to.” You said, holding back the rant that always appeared on the tip of your tongue when she said shit like this.

Honestly, the struggle of straight men to like women is mind-boggling.

“You might just be too gay for this.” Melissa snorted, going into her drawer in search of the spanks.

“Well, fuck you very much.”

She barked out a laugh, and you let go of your phone to stir the food you were cooking, glad for a break from the glory of the woman you did not love like that.

Which is yet another reason why this isn’t ideal.

You don’t really care for Valentine's Day, but on the morning of the 14th, Melissa had seemed off. You tried touching on the subject while you two got coffee, as weak as Abbott’s brew always was, however, Gary walked in in all of his mustached glory and her attention immediately shifted to him.

He’s her boyfriend, it’s Valentine's Day, it was only logical.

She gave him hint after hint, pushed her shoulders a bit back, highlighting her breasts just slightly, cocked her hips some while leaning against the sink, licked her lips more than usual, everything to get an ounce of attention back. The absolute idiot fussed over the vending machine, mumbled a few words to her, eyes not even moving in her direction, before leaving with a “see ya later” tossed behind him.

The look that had taken over her face then had made your heart sink.

“He’s been like this all week.” She said during lunch break in your car. “Barbara thinks he might be planning something, says he’s not cheating, but I don’t know… I tried fooling myself with getting the perfect outfit, getting my hair and my nails done, but he hasn’t mentioned any plans, and he’s been so fucking distant, he doesn’t even seem like himself. And I really can’t handle another Joe situation.” Taking the last bite of the Shepard’s pie you’d brought her, she leaned her head against the rest.

To nearly everybody else here, she shows her angry, reactive, gray side. It’s easier for her, something that still makes her an outcast, but firmly protects her inner-self. But some magical, all-powerful, incredible being out there had made it so you were the one she chose to show her other side to, the one that is not always confident, not in her worth or her looks or her ability as a teacher.

The one that loves so intensely it scares her, and the one that has so many scars she spends half her time trying to heal them, or, at the very least, stop them from bleeding all over the place and being visible to the outside world.

“What do you think?” She said, bringing you back to the inside of your 2010s Honda. “You’ve always been better at these things.”

“Do I think he’s cheating on you?”

She nodded.

“Well, first of all, if he is, he is an absolute deepshit who doesn’t know how to count his blessing for you even giving him the time of day.”

You looked into her eyes while you said it, and she turned her head after, staring at the Tupperware in her hands. You thought you saw a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“But I don’t think he is. Hey, maybe he’s just seen Valentine’s Day for what it is!” You nudged her arm with the back of your hand. “Maybe you’re the one who has to get on board.”

She relented a smile then, but it didn’t last.

“Mel, I think you’ll just have to ride this one out. Wait until the end of the day, so then you can actually have a conversation with him. If he really forgot or if there’s really something wrong, you’ll find out, but, honestly, me? I think he might just have some goofy-ass surprise planned.”

Melissa nodded while keeping her gaze out the window.

There’s a beat, then another, and you thought perhaps you’d convinced her, and she was only taking some time to absorb it.

“You know, you may not feel lonely with this kind of stuff, but…” She paused, voice tired, heart bearing all those tender scars, “I think I’m more like Janine than I’d thought.”

So, hm, this isn’t ideal.

You’d be damned if you let a man who didn’t realize the one in a million he had found ruin Melissa’s day.

Even if Valentine’s Day was traumatic for you, even if it was silly and forced and the world would be better off without it, Melissa was Melissa, and she deserved everything she wanted out of life. You’d thought Gary would see it, but if he didn’t, it’s up to you, even with all your emotional limitations.

So you wrote a little card. Nothing much, just made out of a fancier piece of purple paper you’d had lying around the classroom, with a heart-sticker you’d found at the bottom of your purse decorating the front page. Inside, the note wasn’t all that special, just enough for her to know she would never be alone. That you loved her. That she’d always have you, even if one day she didn’t have anyone else. That she’s your favorite, and if she wanted to, you’d take her out for dinner yourself.

As a friend, of course. Truly.

The fact she made your chest inflate and your pressure drop and a flock of butterflies run a full marathon in your stomach were not things that were included.

After sending the students home, saying goodbye to everyone else (Gregory and his Legos, Janine and her designer bag she knew nothing about, Ava and her many flings and Jacob and his slam poetry), you’d walked to the lounge, where you’d seen Barb and Mel walking towards only a few minutes earlier.

On the way there, you’d seen a bouquet of gerberas discarded on the hallway floor. You’d wondered if a poor kid had gotten broken up with on that day of all days, or if the bouquet held any card of its own. You’d picked it up, deciding to bring it to the compost pile later.

You hadn’t realized how it looked until it had been too late.

“Hey, Mel, I have something for…” You’d started, rounding the corner to enter the room.

“I love you too.” She’d said, looking into Gary’s eyes. In a split second, you’d registered there was something off about her voice, something lacking.

And now here you are, in this less than ideal situation.

All three look at you, standing in the doorway with a card and flowers, calling after another person’s girlfriend. Shit.

“What do you have for her?” Gary’s hand tightens on her waist just so.

So, yeah. Not fucking ideal.

“Hey, look at that. I uh…actually forgot the… ah… The book I was lending you.” You mumble. Spinning on your heels, you walk as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a sprint.

Stupid-ass, invented, asinine holiday.

******

You’re more than half-way through a bottle of Merlot when your doorbell rings.

“Fucking finally!” You shout, jumping from your couch, your belly clenching painfully. Opening up your front door, though, your shoulders drop. “You’re not Postmates.”

“No, I am not. You know what else I also am not? Enjoying this beautiful night with my husband.” Barbara floods you with words, walking past you into the living room.

“Why is that, exactly?” And maybe you’re starting to get drunk, because she seems furious with you, and you can’t remember the last time that ever happened.

“Because I cannot possibly enjoy what was supposed to be a romantic moment with Gerald when I get a desperate phone call from my best friend’s partner asking me if I know where she is.”

It’s too many words too fast, so you sit back down and blink hard, trying to focus.

“What are you talking about?”

“Gary called me. He doesn’t know where Melissa is.”

Melissa. Suddenly, the reason you’d started drinking comes back to you. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Have you seen her?” Barbara seems to take pity on you, be it for your drunkenness or the way your face scrunches up at the name.

“Not since this afternoon, no. What happened?”

“Gary says she went after you, came back in a different mood. Then they got into an argument in the middle of dinner, because she didn’t seem to be enjoying it, which is strange considering she spent the day worrying he wouldn’t do anything special, as we both know.” She sits down on the futon in front of you. “He says she broke up with him right then and there, and left.”

What?

“What?”

“I don’t understand it either. What did you say to her in the hallway?”

“Nothing, I didn’t talk to her in the hallway, or at all.”

Barbara looks away, shaking her head with an incredulous smile on her lips.

“You two are… God forgive me, but infuriating.” She turns back, sighing. “Did she text you? I’ve called and called, but she hasn’t picked up. She’s not at her house, either.”

“I don’t know.” You pull your phone from the middle of the cushions. “It’s been on focus mode the whole night, I only got notifications for my food.”

“Can you try her? Maybe she’ll pick up if it’s you.”

“You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Yes, well, at least we’ll be on the same page.”

The line rings three times before going to voicemail. Then, there’s someone pressing your doorbell again. Your stomach aches.

Again, not Postmates.

“You’re an asshole!” It’s the first thing out of Melissa’s mouth. As the second person today pushes her way into your home, Barbara jumps up from her seat.

“You’re alive, you’re whole?” She turns Melissa over, taking advantage of the woman’s confusion at seeing her here. “Are you stupidly drunk?”

“Uh… No. Why…”

“Are you going to make any decisions that might land you in jail?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Barbara shouts, letting go of the redhead, lifting her hands in praise, and walking to the door. “Please, resolve your issues and let me have my steak in peace. I’ll call your boy-“ She looks Melissa over. “I’ll call Gary, let him know you’re okay. Goodbye. Also, you’re both on probation until further notice.”

She closes the door behind her with a bang, and the two of you are left alone, staring at each other.

Her make-up is smudged, as if she’d been crying, and that beautiful, beautiful red dress shines under the light. The vision worries you at the same time it sets the butterflies off.

Once more, with feeling: this is not ideal.

It feels like forever goes by, just like this, with neither of you moving or speaking or looking away.

Until she unclenches her fist, and you see your card, the one you’d lost on your rush to leave.

“You couldn’t have picked a better moment?” Melissa asks, placing the piece of paper on your entrance table. Her anger, so explosive moments ago, is low and dangerous now, simmering with the hurt in her eyes.

“Listen, I know how it looked-“

“Any other moment.” She keeps going, incapable of stopping now that she’s started. “Maybe one of the endless times when we sat on that fucking couch watching those boring movies you like. Or… Or maybe one of the nights when we spent hours pouring over project ideas or education strategies. Or really any other time before I made the decision to move on.”

Her heart is there, right in front of you, in the tears that drown the gorgeous green of her irises. Somehow, you feel like this is the cataclysm of thoughts and words and feelings you had both held back for years. 

“What?” You mumble for the second time tonight.

“I found every excuse in the book to avoid this, to avoid looking for someone else. And some of it was true, really. Joe did a number on me, which you know – which is why that just hurt worse.” She points to the card, bent in half and slightly crumbled. “But most of it was crap, and I knew it was crap, but I convinced myself it wasn’t because you weren’t ready, but you are amazing, and maybe it was better to wait just a little longer to see if you ever got your shit together, if you ever got over what that ex of yours did. But you never, ever did.”

“Melissa, the flowers…”

“Yeah, gerberas, my favorites, I know. That was a nice touch. You probably knew he wouldn’t remember that detail.”

“No, Mel, I didn’t buy them.” You step forward, past the table, close enough to reach out and touch her arm, if you were brave enough. You never are.

“What, are you gonna tell me you grew them too?” She snorts, humorlessly. “You know, the worst part is that you encouraged me. You told me to go after him, to let him woo me. Even this morning! You told me to wait for him, just to pull this crap.”

She raises her hand, wipes her eyes, and Christ, what the hell have you done?

She breathes in, and it would be wondrous if it weren’t terrifying, how she puts her heart away, takes the part reserved just for you to see and hides it from view.

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know, and this whole time you’ve been leading me on, never really letting me go, no, but still pushing me away.”

In love you with you. In love you with you.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

It reverberates inside your brain as if an echo in a museum. In love with you.

The person who lights up your days without a fail, the woman who’s made every single potential partner pale in comparison, a staple in your life so important that the mere thought of risking something that could make you lose her had forced you to bury all warm and fuzzy feelings. That woman. This woman. Melissa. Your Melissa. In love with you.

You feel your past is too broken to believe her, but still the thought of her being this hurt is unacceptable.

“Mel, I didn’t write the card to steal you away.”

You risk it now, because you feel her slipping through your fingers, and not seeing her heart when she looks into your eyes makes you feel the loneliest you ever have. You risk reaching over, placing one hand on each of her upper arms. The fabric there is so soft it surprises you.

She flinches, but allows it.

“Just to keep me from giving up, right?”

“You know me better than that.” You try, throat tight. You damn sure hope she does. “I wrote it because you seemed really hurt, and just in case Gary messed up, I wanted you to know you at least had me. You’ll always have me.”

She shakes her head, eyes welling up again.

“What a great pal you are.” Melissa whispers.

“I found the fucking flowers on the floor, I was gonna take them to the trash.” You lose your patience for a split second, because maybe you were tactless, but this is a bit too far, even for such a stubborn woman.

She raises a brow.

“I’m not trying to cover my ass.”

“’You’re the person I think about the most’” She quotes the card. “Did you mean that?”

“Of course.” You say without a thought.

“As a friend?” She challenges.

No. Yes. Maybe. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

If you risk this next step, will you lose her eventually? Like you have every other woman you have loved like this? Will you lose yet another person, yet another soul you feel you can rest beside?

You let your hands travel down slightly.

“Mostly.” She breaks eye contact, frowning. “I cherish our friendship so much, Melissa. But part of me wanted to say more. To say things that weren’t purely platonic. I didn’t mean to steer you around.” You sigh. This is… a lot. “I want to see you happy, Mel. More than anything in the world, you deserve that. And I just felt like allowing myself to feel all those things for you would jeopardize that. You’re an explosive, hot-headed, weird, outlaw Italian with a great mind and a huge, huge heart, and you’re definitely too good for me.”

She shakes her head again, but looking at those amazing, gorgeous, breathtaking green orbs, you find a glimpse of that other side of hers, even if the tears are still there, hiding underneath the surface.

“Today, I only wanted to make sure you would be okay. And I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. I truly didn’t want to ruin that moment for you.” Finally, you reach her hands, and she holds yours back. You fit. “And I have only ever encouraged you to go out there because I really believe you deserve to have the fullest life you can possibly have, and that’s probably with someone… less damaged. Someone good and kind. Someone like Gary.”

Melissa mumbles to herself in Italian.

Forse sarebbe più facile.

“But I don’t love Gary.” She says simply, in English, relaxing into your touch, sending your blood pressure through the roof.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

“I know.” You say.

You had seen it in her eyes when she’d returned his declaration earlier, the emptiness, the masking, the guilt for lying. She wanted to love him so badly.

She’d looked at you back then and, for a split second, before the confusion and embarrassment that had followed, she’d seemed relieved, as if saying there’s the one who sees me. And something more.

Now, the something more is clearer.

“I know you’re scared.” She whispers again. “And you always, always try to protect me from these things. Never when I get myself mixed up with family business or get into fights…”

“Well, I trust your right hook for that.” You can’t help yourself. She snorts very, very softly, and maybe there’s hope yet.

“But you always try to keep me safe from this, even from you.” Melissa lets go of one your hands, placing a palm against your cheek. Oh, so that’s what it means to have a heart attack. “But I have never, ever, been afraid of your baggage, you jackass.” The spark of defiance that flashes through her expression pulls a smile from you.

If someone had asked you yesterday if this happening was something you thought possible, you’d have laugh them out of the room.

“I just wish you’d given me that god-damn card before I’d wasted this dress on somebody else and had broken a man’s heart for nothing.”

“Poor Gary,” you whisper.

“Yeah… Poor Gary.”

So, perhaps it’s not ideal, with the tears and heartache and being on Barb’s bad side, but she leans up on her tip toes, squeezing your hand, palm migrating down to hold your neck, and despite not being ideal, it does feel oddly right.

“I don’t give a fuck if you hate Valentine’s Day and you think this is corny. You better kiss me before I lose my nerve, or I swear to…”

For the first time in your adult life, you forgo your mind, trying something with risks that may far outweigh the good. With a tug, you pull her in, leaning down, breath catching in your throat when your lips connect, and you find you don’t give two shits about the risks.

Heaven.

Of course, your doorbell rings not five seconds later. Fucking Postmates.

[wave2tyun]

cherry wine | ☆

pairing: taehyun x reader

genre: college!au, chef!tyun, fluff, suggestive (it gets steamy towards the end?!)

prompts: - "i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now"

- "here- let me help you"

warnings: none<3

word count: 2.8k

a/n: special dedication to the anon who sent me an ask about this fic, hope you'll enjoy reading this again :D💓💞💘💖💓

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

there were many things that you were good that. cooking, however, was not one of them. when you first got one of your friends to come over and taste one of your dishes, they could barely hold back tears as they tried to chew the food and make it slide down their throat. knowing that you’re not a big fan of takeout, they could barely comprehend how you’ve managed to survive up until now.

the minute your uni opened up a cooking course held by the culinary arts students, your friend made sure that your name would be the first one to appear on that list- without telling you about it, of course. you had a big ego, and you most likely wouldn’t have accepted to sign up for the course yourself. therefore, so as not to risk anything, they only told you about the secret they’ve been keeping away from you one hour before the first class started.

‘stupid course’ you mumbled, putting on the apron that the chef’s assistant handed you. was it really necessary to wear it? you were thankful that at least there weren’t any other familiar faces in the room, otherwise you would have died of embarrassment. everybody else seemed to have, in one way or another, some sort of knowledge in the cooking field. meanwhile, you lacked the skills, and the blue apron you were dressed up in made you feel goofy. you glanced over at your watch: 11:02. if you were fast enough maybe there was still time for you to sneak out of there-

“good morning, everybody” a male voice was heard.

great. your one and only chance to escape slipped away from your hands. the course was officially starting, and there was no way you could back out now. you lifted your head, eyes searching for the source of the voice, and once your eyes landed on him- you couldn’t help but inhale sharply.

you were screwed.

the student that was assigned as the ‘head chef’ was cute- so much cuter than you thought. he was somehow the perfect combination of cute and hot: big shiny eyes that resembled two tapioca pearls, a soft smile that revealed his cat-like fangs, as well as broad shoulders and toned arms, which were exposed by his rolled up sleeves.

“i’m taehyun, a 3rd year culinary arts major” he introduced himself “i will be the one leading you throughout this course. thank you to everyone who has signed up, i hope you will find these lessons useful”

taehyun’s words were met with a round of applause from the other people in the room. he smiled brightly, clasping his hands together “without further ado- let’s get started. we’ll start of easy, with a basic soup recipe”

you glared at the vegetables in front of you. it seemed like your definition of easy didn’t exactly match his. making a sandwich was easy. cutting vegetables? absolutely not. you clumsily tried to follow along as taehyun demonstrated each step, paying close attention to not cut or stab your finger with the knife. these poor vegetables- your cutting board resembled a crime scene. you sighed, looking at the potatoes and carrots that you had yet to handle.

taehyun started roaming around the kitchen counters, making sure that everyone was carrying out the task well. you sensed him stopping right next to your place, and you resisted the urge to hide the mess you created with your hands. knowing that his eyes were on you, you were now feeling even more nervous than before. your hands were now starting to shake as you continued using the knife.

“can you give me your knife for a second?” taehyun asked, interrupting your actions.

 “s-sure” you stuttered, handing him the sharp object. taehyun moved closer to you, grabbing one of the carrots from the basket.

“when you cut these- make sure you get rid of the ends first” he spoke as his hands followed the instructions “this makes it a bit easier to hold the rest of the carrot. then- hold the knife straight, and push it down, separating it into smaller pieces” you watched as taehyun chopped up the rest of the carrot flawlessly, in probably less than 10 second “give it another go” he offered you the knife back, making you gulp.

you breathed in deeply, trying to calm yourself down as you reached out for your own carrot. however, your attempt was in vain. no matter how many times you tried, the pieces you were cutting ended up looking uneven. you could feel your cheeks burning intensely. “i’m so sorry-“ turning to look at taehyun in pity, you were expecting him to start laughing in your face, but you were only met with another one of his sweet smiles.

“you’re holding the knife at an angle. here- let me help you” taehyun walked behind you, his hands hovering right above yours “is this okay?” he spoke softly, waiting for your confirmation to go on.

you nodded, and taehyun took hold of your hands guiding them as he explained again “like this” he whispered, pressing down the knife gently. he was just correcting your mistakes- just doing his job, but god, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

“think you’ve got it now?” he chuckled.

you almost forgot to reply, too caught up in the moment “yeah- thank you”

“you’re welcome-“ taehyun sneaked a glance at your name tag “-y/n” the words rolled off his tongue softly.

taehyun removed his hands from you, going back to his place at the front to go on with the lesson. perhaps this course wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

the next time you had to attend the cooking course, you put in a little bit more effort in your appearance. for taehyun? maybe. only something subtle though. you did want it to be noticeable, just not too much. he wasn’t supposed to catch on to the fact that he was the cause of this.

the thought of doing mistakes didn’t seem as taunting anymore- not if it meant that taehyun would be the one helping you out again.

no matter how many times you were struggling, taehyun came over to you with a smile, fondness taking over his eyes as you furrowed your brows, paying close attention to his words.

one day, he called your name out at the end of the lesson- asking you to remain for a bit. you waited next to him as the class emptied, and taehyun shily pulled his phone out once it was just the two of you there “if you ever have questions or need help with anything- you can always text me”

and so you did. you used any excuse to talk to him, asking small questions like “how should i prepare this?” “what can i add to this?” “does this look right?” and taehyun seemed to reply with enthusiasm every time. you looked forward to seeing him every saturday at the course. any kind of stress created by college disappeared the moment you were in his warm presence, and felt his soft touch. you couldn’t help but sulk a little bit whenever he helped out other students, even though that was simply what he was supposed to do. maybe you just wanted to have all of his focus on you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

walking out after your last course of the day, you received a new message:

taehyun :)

[6:34 pm] are you free tonight? there’s something i want you to try

you typed in a quick reply, an almost immediate raise in heartbeat taking place at the thought of seeing him that evening.

you got back to your dorm as fast as possible to drop off your bag, as well as to get changed into something a tad bit more special than just some jeans and a hoodie.

once you reached taehyun’s door, you took a moment to rearrange the flyaway hairs and to make sure that your outfit looked in good condition. ringing up the doorbell, taehyun didn’t take long before opening the door, the smell of freshly-sprayed on cologne enveloping your senses, a breathless ‘hi’ escaping past both your lips at the exact same time.

the only source of light in taehyun’s apartment was the small candles sitting on the elegantly decorated dining table. it seemed like he had everything prepared, except for one single thing: the dish itself. all the ingredients were neatly prepared on the counter, as if waiting for your arrival. those were, indeed, taehyun’s intentions. he did have a special dish in mind that he wanted you to try, but the though of having you in his presence while preparing it just seemed to make his heart flutter a bit longer.

even though you were definitely not as skilled as taehyun when it came to cooking, you still offered to help him in any way you could, not wishing to simply sit around waiting to be served. for your first task, you were chopping some tomatoes for the pasta sauce. taehyun came up behind you, putting his hands on top of yours like he did during your first course with him.

“don’t worry- i know how to do this now” you said.

“really?” taehyun quirked an eyebrow, the tone of his voice both amusing yet also incredulous.

you hummed, proud of your small progress. taehyun didn’t separate himself from you “maybe i just want to stay close to you” he admitted, voice low as if he didn’t know whether it was right to confess his thoughts out loud.

“i wouldn’t mind that” you spoke quietly, letting out a confession of your own as well.

you could hear taehyun softly exhale in relief at your response. his warm chest came into contact with your back, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. it was intimate- way too intimate for those feelings of love to be clouding your heart only. his warm breath on your neck was starting to make you feel almost light-headed, to make you lose focus, and in a moment where your attention had completely dissipated into thin air, you almost let the knife cut your finger.

“are you okay? did you get hurt?” taehyun asked in worry. he brought your finger to his face upon closer inspection “it’s all good, don’t worry” you replied hurriedly, embarrassed by your lack of concentration at the task at hand “i just got lost in thought that’s all” you babbled on further. taehyun nodded as he started guiding you, holding your hand and the knife with slightly tighter grip than before to ensure that there wouldn’t be any more slip-ups “do it this way” he said.

“like this?” you repeated, trying it out yourself. you turned your head slightly to face him. there was a soft pink dusting taehyun’s cheeks.

“yeah, just like this” he answered back in a daze. you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes sneaked a glance at your lips. the thought too tempting and inviting- especially when he was holding you so close. but he had to wait- he couldn’t give in yet. the tension and lingering touches were consuming you whole as you continued to prepare the dish together.

the wine taehyun placed down the table seemed to be the perfect solution to loosen things up, to get rid of all the worries of your unspoken feelings.

“i bought this especially for tonight- it goes well with the dish” taehyun looked down as he smiled shily “i hope you’ll like it” he said as he poured each of you a glass of the sweet cherry wine.

“swirl it around first- then let the liquid touch your lips for a bit to get a small taste” he explained. taehyun already had an interest in alcohol, and the culinary arts programme had only expanded his knowledge in the field further. although it was necessary for him to learn- you found it attractive how he paid attention to even the smallest details.

the wine was more of a sweet kind than dry, intense- yet not overwhelming, and just as intoxicating as him. the pasta didn’t let down your expectations either. you had never tasted pasta with a sauce so creamy and full of flavour before, you couldn’t believe that you had assisted in the preparation and didn’t somehow ruin it.

“this tasted so good” you complimented him hurriedly between bites. taehyun couldn’t control his face at the sound of your words- a cocky grin taking over which he tried to hide subtly by having another sip of wine.

“only the best for you” he replied brazenly, reaching out his glass towards you. meeting him half-way, you clinked your glasses together, giggling at his words.

the wine glasses were filled right after another without a moment of waiting as you got through your dinner. and before you knew it, the expensive bottle was already sitting on the floor underneath the table, not a singular drop remaining in it. to you, taehyun’s eyes seemed to sparkle a bit more now, his smile at least ten times more endearing. and to taehyun? he could barely hold himself back from confessing out of the blue just so that he could finally give your lips a kiss

you clumsily gathered the dishes, bringing them over to the sink. you both agreed that washing them should be a problem for later, since you were quite (very) tipsy and didn’t want to risk flooding the apartment.

turning around after you placed the last plate in the sink, you were taken aback to see taehyun so close to you. he put his hands on the counter behind you, trapping you between it and his own body. his eyes were firmly placed on yours and you noticed how the blush on his cheeks had never disappeared. was it because of you? or just the alcohol?

his head fell on your shoulder, his hands were now on the small of your back as he tried to keep his balance.

“tae- is everything okay?” you asked worriedly. you didn’t know what his alcohol tolerance was, and you didn’t want him passing out on the floor in front of you.

taehyun hummed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his soft black hair tickled your skin, and you wished you could run your hands through it “can we just stay like this for a bit?” he mumbled.

you opened your mouth to speak, but taehyun interrupted you before you could do so “i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now” he lightly chuckled.

“you’re probably the cause of that...” you replied, the alcohol giving you the slight push to admit it. “is that so?” taehyun lifted his head up slightly, peering into your eyes “every time i get close to you- my heart beats just the same”

your face burned instantly, locking eyes with him for just one moment, before you noticed the way his travelled down to your lips once again. taehyun licked his lips before resting his forehead against yours. his warm breath tickled your lips, and your body trembled in anticipation for him to close the gap. pulling him in by softly grabbing the collar of his shirt, your lips captured taehyun’s in a tender kiss.

taehyun melted into your touch, letting out a small gasp once he promptly parted away from you, only to come back to taste you with even more passion than before. warmth consumed you, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together in a frenzy “your lips taste so sweet” taehyun breathed out “even sweeter than the cherry wine”. taehyun clumsily moved any leftover ingredients out of the way before lifting you up on the counter, his hands trailing underneath your shirt, touching your bare back as he continued to kiss you, the desire flowing through your veins was making it unable for you to stop. it made a chill run down your spine, and you parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. your fingers got lost through the strands of his hair, pulling at them slightly and emitting a deep hum from him; hot, passionate kisses sending a rush through your whole body as you tasted him. his lips were so soft- so warm, and so incredibly addictive.

in need of oxygen, you parted away for him for a moment, his glistening lips trailing back almost immediately.

“please- will you let me have another taste?”

[mochinomnoms]

Hiii! For the Hanahaki event can I request Vil (romantic) with prompt #7? A gender neutral reader would be appreciated, thanks!!

Also if youre up for it maybe prompt #12 with Ace (Platonic) with the reader’s object of affection still being Vil? This prompt with Ace is too funny for me to ignore I just HAVE to sneak him in 😭😭

vil schoenheit, platonic!ace trappola x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, humor, semi enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, sickenly sweet [wc} – 3,458 prompt 7: “I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.” prompt 12: "No, I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. Why would you even ask that?!” note - writing this was surprisingly hard. but i got it and i think it's very cute, i just hope Vil is mostly in character :skull: also i don't know german so idk if the nickname is an accurate translation! comments loved and appreciated! a floral inconvenience

Marigold: often used during festivals like Diwali and Navratri, marigolds symbolize purity, auspiciousness, and the divine.

You were going to murder him. 

“Heyyyyyy Prefect!” Ace gave you a cheeky grin as he held your glass bottle of very expensive salicylic acid serum, balancing it precariously between his fingers. “What about this? Can I take this—whoops!”

“ACE!”

You shrieked as the bottle slipped from his fingers, only to be caught by his other hand, an infuriating grin still on his hand. 

“Hehe, relax! I’m just messing around—oh shit!” The bottle slipped again from his fingers as a now panicked Ace scrambled to capture it. “Oop. Got it. It’s fine.”

“Oh my gooooooooood, Ace, I’m going to fucking kill you, give that back!” You snatched the bottle from his hands, giving him a good kick behind the knees as you walked past him. 

“Owwwww, Prefect, why are you so mean to me?” Ace pouted as you put your serum back on your desk with the rest of the skincare Vil had gifted everyone at the start of the SDC training. Ace continued whining as he packed his bags to go back to Heartslabyul, being left behind by Deuce who went to get snacks from Sam’s with Epel. 

He felt bad that all the food you had was cursed by Vil at the beginning. 

“It’s almost like you want me out of your dorm, kinda rude, you know.”

“You know what’s rude?” You smacked down the pillow Ace threw your way as you huffed, “Your face. Ugly ass, you know you had a room next door, how’d all your stuff end up in my room?”

Ace shrugged as he shoved his wrapped up sweater into the now bulky backpack he’d brought over, throwing himself onto your bed and grunting as he bounced on the squeaky frame. 

“I don’t know, how’d you burn the Queen of Hearts’s statue—”

“That was you—”

“—the world will never know.” 

You rolled you eyes as you laid on your stomach next to him, hugging a spare pillow to your face. Closing your eyes, you sighed as the events of the last few weeks replayed in your head. Between acting as manager for the SDC group, to barely keeping up with classes, to Vil’s overblot, you were utterly exhausted. Speaking of Vil…

“Ah, that’s right, I should check on Vil before he leaves. I wonder if he’s doing okay?”

“With you at his beck and call? Perfectly fine, I guarantee you.” Ace yelped as you smacked his side, giving him a red-faced glare. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ace turned on his side with a teasing smirk. The kind of smirk he gave you whenever he wanted to fluster and embarrass you in front of your friends and teachers. 

“It means whatever you want it to mean. Maybe someone should consider not acting like a little kid with a crush whenever they’re around Vil—owowowowowow—stop hitting me!”

You pounded your fists onto Ace’s sides and back as he tried to roll away from your reach, arms cradling his head in meek protection. He managed to roll off the bed, turning over to look at you briefly to stick his tongue out and politely flip you off. Ace let out a small shriek as you launched off the bed after him, running out of the room into the hall and turning into a goosechase. You could practically hear the yakety sax song playing in your head as the two of you pushed past Jamil and Kalim, the former crying out at you in annoyance. 

“Watch it!”

Ace practically threw himself down the stairs, jumping past four whole steps, using the banister to whip him around into the main hallway where he ran into the living room. Finally catching up to him, Ace positioned the coffee table between you two as he continued egging you on. 

“Ayeeeeeee, embarrassed Prefect? Gonna throw a fit?” Ace let out a low cackle as you both shifted around the table. 

“Gonna throw your ass into the fucking sun, little bitch ass! You got something to say then fucking say it!” 

Ace snorted as he pointed behind you. “You’re one to talk, you wanna talk about the marigolds coming from behind you? It’s like you’re growing a garden out of your ass, wanna talk about that?”

“The fuck? I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. The hell you’re talking about,” You turned your head to look behind you, still growling at him now with confusion. “Why would you even ask that—WHAT THE FUCK!?”

You hissed as you jumped backwards into the table, the edges jamming into your skin. Behind you had been a long trail of beautiful, shimmering orange flowers. Upon closer inspection, you were pretty sure they were marigolds. 

“...Ace, this is your fault.” 

“What! Nuh-uh, I’m not the only with flower sickness—”

“The fuck is flower sickness?”

“You know, hanahaki? The love disease? How do you not know what flower sickness is, it’s like basic 8th grade bio—”

“I didn’t go to school here, dumbass!”

Ace’s mouth formed an ‘oh’ shape as he remembered. “Oooooh yeah, I forgot.”

“Forgot what? You little potatoes are acting awfully rowdy so early in the morning.”

You looked up to see Vil standing in the hallway, a bemused Rook behind him inspecting the flowers on the ground. Vil briefly made eye contact with you, both of your sharing a small smile before an irritating, itchy feeling made its way in your throat. 

You felt a hand pack your back as you started roughly coughing up several bunches of marigolds into your hands as Ace grimaced. 

“I forgot that they’re not from here, so they got no clue about hanahaki…or any other illness…huh it’s kinda a miracle they haven’t gotten sick from something else yet.” Ace hummed, as he leaned down to look at your face. 

You made eye contact with your peripheral vision, motioning Ace to lean closer into you and horasely whispered, “Come… closer…”

Confused, Ace obliged, ear up to your lips, giving you the perfect opportunity to sock him straight in the gut. Your dear, beloved friend gagged from the pressure, hands cradling his stomach as he fell to his knees, groaning in pain. 

“Y/N…” Vil sighed in exasperation, walking over to give you a gentle flick in your forehead as he chastised you. 

“It’s unbecoming of a friend of mine to be so belligerent, do you really have to be so crass with all your friends?”

You clicked your tongue, licking the spit from your lips. “I’m not with you, besides Ace deserves it, you know how he is.”

“Mm-hmm, and how long have you been coughing out the flowers, meine Süße?”

A pleasant warmth flooded your cheeks at the nickname. You choose to ignore the tickling sensation of marigolds growing from the tops of your head, which instead formed into sneezing fits. 

“I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.” He remarked, leaning down to observe the blooms. “Now, answer my question, meine Süße.”

“Achooo! Ugh,” You sniffled as you replied, “Um, not that long—achoo!—ago, ugh. Just today—”

“Ah! The little trickster started expelling the belles fleurs approximately a month and a half ago!” Rook chirped, a little too happily for your tastes. “Two weeks after we began training for the SDC.” 

Vil let out another sigh as you whipped your head to glare at Rook, hissing out, “What. The. Fuck.”

“Excuse me?! Language Y/N!” Vil barked at you, making you flinch and burst into another coughing fit. Noticing this, he softened his voice, though the blonde still sounded angry.

“That’s nearly two months with the flower sickness, have you been taking potions to help with the symptoms?” 

You shook your head, clearing your throat. “Ahem, no, uh. I didn’t know that there was medicine for this kinda thing, haaaaa I just figured I was being pranked by someone.”

You heard a snort behind you as Ace stood back up, grumbling, “Of course you would, dumbass.” 

“I will actually kill you—”

“You will actually not.” Vil placed a gentle hand on your upper back, guiding you to the front door. “Rook, ensure everyone packs up and cleans their mess by the time we get back, I believe Kalim may still need help packing up.”

“Oui! How kind of you Vil to escort our lovely Trickster to get them a remedy for their affliction!” 

Rolling your eyes, you let Vil guide you out of the dorm, calling out to Ace, “Don’t forget to grab the rest of your stuff, it’s still in my room!” 

“Okayyy!” 

With that, the door shut behind you two as you began a pleasant walk over to what you assumed would be Sam’s shop. A pregnant silence fell over you two as you walked down the pathway leading to main street, having to maneuver past the alchemy building and botanical gardens. You were hyper conscious about his hand that remained on your back, which is when you started another coughing fit. 

“Oh you poor dear, did you really have no clue what was going on all this time?” Vil spoke to you in that soft tone that he’d been reserving for you since you first became friends, a few months ago. You’d gone into the Film Research Club interested in working as a stagehand, plus you had a good working knowledge costume design and general clothes repair, which was sorely needed. 

It’d been an incredibly rocky acquaintanceship at first, as Vil made subtle, snide remarks on your disheveled appearance, while you shot back with loud, brass comments on his ‘Regina George wannabe’ act. Now, he didn’t know who Regina George was back then, but took offense that a ‘dirty, lumpy potato would have the audacity to insult him’. 

He only kept you on in the club because no one ever willingly signed up for backstage work, and you only requested free access to spare cloth and sewing materials to fix your clothes. Vil was also more than happy to point out how scruffy the patches all over your uniforms made you look: 

“You certainly fix the part of the ramshackle Prefect, now don’t you?”

Though, looking back on it now, you’re pretty sure he wasn’t aware that everything of yours was either found in Ramshackle’s attic or bought with the meager allowance Crowley gave you. Shortly before finals, Vil found you crying in an isolated part of backstage because another first-year permanently bleached your only jacket during a botched potions class.

“What’s going on back here, practice your scenes upfront with the rest of us, I don’t care how ugly you look crying—Prefect?”

You jumped, scrambling to get back up from the dusty corner you’d shoved yourself into. You awkwardly wiped the tears from your face, wrapping your arms around yourself as you gave Vil a feeble glare.

“What do you want Vil, I already told the others that their costumes wouldn’t be ready yet, if you want me to get stuff done, you gotta stop annoying me—”

“You’ve been crying.” His simple statement shut you up, as he approached you with a firm look on his face.

“…Yeah, stating the obvious much?” you muttered back, finding the scuff marks on the ground very interesting. Vil let out a sigh, reaching into his jacket to take out an off-white, embroidered handkerchief.

“I’m trying to be sympathetic. Ugh, you’re all red and puffy, let me see.” Vil tipped your chin up with his fingertips, gently patting at the tear streaks on your cheeks. “You look worse than normal…is the red bleach stain on your uniform meant to be a fashion statement?”

Pausing at the stuttering breath you took, sniffling, you answered, “No, some dumba—”

“Language”

“—Some jerk,” you drawled, “from my last class messed up his potion, and it got all over me. Stained my only jacket, right when it starts snowing, too.”

Vil raised a brow at you, leaning back once he was satisfied with your dried cheek.

“Only one? Even Ruggie has a few spare uniform jackets from Leona, did you seriously not think ahead to purchase a spare?”

You half-laughed, half-scoffed at his statement.

“You think Crowley gives me enough money to buy another jacket for his bougie ass—I mean, fancy, school? I barely have enough to feed myself and Grim between the roof caving in and the water pipes breaking. The bathroom flooded again last week.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you felt a migraine coming in, unaware of Vil’s growing horror.

“I was lucky enough to find my uniform in the attic, it waaay too big and makes me look homeless, but at least it keeps me warm…now it just looks even more like shit.”

You finally looked up at the blonde, expecting him to lecture you on your foul language. Instead, you were surprised to see Vil’s horrified expression.

“What do you mean, you barely have enough for food?”

It was then that you discovered that no one outside your group of friends were really aware that you were stuck on campus, victim to Crowley’s whims and needs. You know the others in Heartslabyul were faintly aware of your predicament, being from another world and stuck until Crowley found you a way home. Ace and Deuce did their best to help repair things around the dorm, but could only do so much. Savanaclaw and Octavinelle knew of the disarray of your dorm, but based on comments from Leona and Floyd, weren’t aware of just how much you were struggling just to eat and sleep. 

Ruggie definitely was, seeing as he occasionally slipped you a spare meat bun or snack that he happened to buy extra of when running errands for Leona. Ruggie was a real one, as long as you didn’t point it out. 

Since that day, Vil had sort of taken you under his wing, along with Epel who you hadn’t met yet at the time. You had to give him credit, he wasn’t the villain you’d made him out to be in your head. And Vil admitted, he enjoyed that you were quick on your feet and enjoyed your banter, as long as it was unique to him. 

He spared you his previous uniforms that he’d grown out of his freshman and sophomore year, minus the band and vest, watching as you mended the waist and ends to fix your stature. More often than not, especially after hearing that you’d be stuck by yourself during winter break, Vil was sending you care packages with personal hygiene products from brand deals he never took. He’d send fabrics and sewing supplies with sewing patterns. Vil even started buying you breakfast and lunch once back to school, though you refrained from joining him for dinner in Pomefiore. 

In exchange, you managed to replicate, with his help, some of the scripts for the more famous musicals from your world. You even told him who Regina George was! He still wasn't fond of the comparison, but did find the musical intriguing. Vil was fascinated by the works of art your world produced, and just slightly enamored in the way you described them with glee and fondness. Still, the exchanges still felt a bit uneven.

You’d once made the joke that he was practically a sugar daddy, just without the sugar. He snapped back, “Well, I’m not stopping you, now am I? I’ve never had a sweet tooth, but you’re more than welcome to give me thanks, meine Süße.” 

(You spent that night screaming into your pillow with a red-hot blush while Grim looked on with concern.)

Truly, you two had developed an unlikely friendship, one where you both spoke your minds to the other with no hesitation or fear. Which is why the lack of conversation at the moment was slowly driving you insane. 

You sneaked a peek at Vil, taking a sharp breath as your eyes met his own. It seemed that he was watching you with his very lovely, sharp purple eyes. The thought sent a hot flash through you as you sneezed a flurry of petals and pollen. 

“Ooof, ugh, this is gonna make my allergies go haywire.”

“Sam will have some potions that will help with the symptoms, though you will have to confront the root of the cause.” Vil slid his hand down to rest in your mid-back, rubbing his thumb against you in a soothing motion, though it cause you to shiver and flush. 

“Yeah, okay.” you managed to squeak out, groaning as you felt the tickle of glowing marigolds pop up on your skin and in your hair. “Ummmm, so how do you get rid of, uh, Ace called it hanahaki?”

Vil nodded and opened his mouth to speak before being interrupted by the faint screaming of your name. Both of you looked down the path, where you saw Deuce running over to you two, followed by a confused Epel chasing after him. 

“PREFECT! PREFECTPREFECTPREFECTPREFECT—” 

Yelping as Deuce skidded to a half and grabbed you by your arms, shaking you with intense concern, you managed to reply a stuttered, “W-w-what?” 

Deuce paused his shaking to give you a concerned lecture, “You didn’t tell us you had the flower sickness!? Why didn’t you say something, you’ve been running around for SDC all this time—”

“You too—”

“But I’m not sick!” Deuce dug through the paperbag you’d just notice he was holding and shoved a pale pink potion in your hands. “Here! Take this!”

Before you could even touch the bottle, Vil plucked it from a confused Deuce’s hands, studying it with scrutiny. 

“Hmm…This is an average allergy relief potion for hay fever, did you actually ask Sam for a hanahaki symptom relief potion, or did you just grab the first thing you saw off the shelf?”

Deuce visibly deflated, opening his mouth to sheepishly reply before Epel interrupted him with a harsh, “I told him to ask, but he got all riled up and started yammerin’—I mean, uh, talking about getting the Prefect help immediately.”

Vil sighed, handing Deuce the potion back and shooed the two away with a wave of his hand. 

“Just go back, I’ll handle it, just make sure your messes are all cleaned up before we get back.”

The two replied, “Yes sir!” and continued on their path, waving goodbye to you. Though you could hear Epel mumble to Deuce, “Those are marigolds, right? I think Vil’s favorite flowers are those, you don’t think…”

You slowed down to ponder Epel’s words, remembering what Ace initially called the illness. 

“Vil…Ace called it a love sickness…would these flowers related toooo, I don’t know, a hypothetical crush somehow?” 

Vil briefly opened his mouth, closing it as he hesitated to speak. You think you could make out a soft blush on his cheeks. 

“Yes. Your hypothetical crush must favor marigolds. Can’t say I blame him, I’m fond of them myself…” 

The two of you made eye contact, a knowing look in his eye and tone making your heart skip a beat and you look down in embarrassment. 

“Oh…I see…” You coughed awkwardly, a few petals flying from your mouth. “So you said there was a way to get to the root cause?”

Vil hummed, stopping at the entrance of Sam’s shop to turn to you with an unreadable expression. 

“Yes, as an illness based on love, appropriately the cure is to confess your feelings to the one you’ve found yourself fancying.”

A cold flash went through your body as your stomach dropped. Again. “Oh.” The thought of confessing to Vil made you sick, like you could puke at a drop of a coin at any moment.

“I wish you’d mentioned something sooner, I could’ve helped you…ease into it.” Vil murmured,  his hand moving to cradle your cheek. He squished your cheek with a fond look in his eye. 

“I know it’s a daunting task…I won’t rush you into it.” Vil moved his hand to brush your hair away, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “When you’re ready to say something, just let me know.”

Leaning back, VIl covered his mouth to hide his amused smirk. Your face was a blazing red as the marigolds grew a trail down your neck and chest. He motioned for you to follow him into the shop, holding the door open as he held a hand out to you. At the moment, you’re having a hard time imagining why he’d only ever been typecast in villain roles, he looked more like an enchanting love interest catered for you specifically. 

“For now, I’ll be by your side. I will wait for you, meine Süße.”

[blossom-sims]

Elemental Legacy Challenge for TS3

Hi all, this is my first Sims 3 legacy challenge I've made myself, it is a result of my boredom on a Saturday evening but it was a lot of fun, so I'll throw this at you ☺

This elemental legacy challenge is for The Sims 3 and spans 9 Generations. It is inspired by the Chinese Zodaic Elements and also inspiration from my favourite JRPG's which utlise a lot of elemental themed magic. It has guided ideas and generational requirements with story themes throughout. Feel free to tag me if you have a go at this ✨

Rules:

I have listed the intended requirements for each generation, move on to the next generation once the requirements are complete or the next heir becomes a young adult

I have listed some guidance on careers, lifetime wishes and traits. I recommend taking 2-3 of the traits listed but they aren't mandatory

You can use money cheats if you wish, I've tried to write the generational order to put you in the desired financial spot for storytelling, but please just have fun with it

Please do alter and play this how you wish & how your stories pan out, the guidance is just there for ideas and isn't meant to limit you

Generation 1 - Earth

Child of earth, you are grounded and resillient. Your goal is to provide your family with solid foundations for the generations to come. You are selfless, stubborn and driven. You know what you want and will work your upmost to achieve it. Your ambitious and frugal nature can get on other's nerves and prompts the question: with so much planning for the future, are you really taking time to enjoy your own life?

Traits: Ambitious, Frugal, Natural Cook, Snob, Workaholic

Job: Medical Career

LTW: World Renowned Surgeon

Requirments:

Begin in a starter house. You should not move lots or houses this Generation and instead add extensions onto your house when needed

Master the cooking and nectar making skills

Fall in love and marry one person in your lifetime

Do not have children until you reach level 8 of your career

Save 20,000 for the next generation

Generation 2 - Water

Child of water, thanks to your parents hardwork, you had a carefree childhood and now plenty of savings behind you. You are a calm free spirit that lets the oceans currents carry you to your next adventure. You are in no rush to settle in one place just yet, why rush when you are having such fun? Your time for settling down will come evetually. Whatever will be will be.

Traits: Adventurous, Loves to swim, Commitment Issues, Easily Impressed, Athletic

LTW: Seaside Saviour/Seasoned Traveler/Deep Sea Diver

Job: Lifeguard

Requirements:

Travel to 3 different destinations

Do not get married and settle down until adulthood

Have at least 3 children with 3 different people you meet in your travels

Master the diving skill

Own a boat or live in a houseboat

Generation 3 - Fire

Child of fire, you are passionate and hot-headed, throwing yourself headfirst into your work and relationships with a grandeur flair. You wear your heart on your sleeve, making many flock to you for friendship or more. Your self-awareness around your temper certainly helps your popularity as you channel your temper into your physical fitness. You certainly aren't burning out anytime soon!

Traits: Social Butterfly, Hot-Headed, Artistic, Loves the Heat, Flirty

LTW: Super Popular

Job: Self-employed Painter

Requirements:

Master the painting and martial arts skills

Have at least 20 friends and maintain friendships until you are an elder or the next generation takes over

Have 3 passionate lovers in your lifetime

Throw a party once per week

Woohoo once per week

Generation 4 - Grass

Child of grass, you just can't get enough of babies, especially your own! Your family and their wellbeing are your whole world. You live to nourish, protect and teach your loved ones. However, you have been told on one or more occasions that you can be overbearing...a helicopter parent perhaps? Don't they know you only want what is best for them?

Traits: Nurturing, Perfectionist, Loves the Outdoors, Family Orientated, Green Thumb,

LTW: Surrounded by Family/The Perfect Garden

Job: Daycare

Requirements:

Have a garden and live off the land, using your grown produce for meals

Max the gardening skill

Fall in love and marry your childhood sweetheart

Have 5 children and a bad relationship with at least one

Teach all of your children their toddler skills

Live within your means in a small-medium house - never have more than 10,000 in household funds

Generation 5 - Ice

Child of ice, your parents doting nature only added onto your pressure. You never felt like you fit in with your family, never felt understood. They were all so extroverted and loud whilst you much preferred your quiet isolation. Perhaps that's why you prefer animals over people. You have a lot of love to give, I can only hope you will find someone to share that with (who is not one of your many pets).

Traits: Shy, Animal Lover, Hates the Outdoors, Savvy Sculptor, Loves the cold

LTW: Descendant of Da Vinci

Jobs: Self employed Sculptor/Painter/Inventor

Requirements:

Have a poor relatioship with your parents and siblings, you will leave your childhood family home as soon as you age into a young adult

Have 3 pets at one time

Only leave your house when necessary

Meet your lover through online dating

Master the sculpting and inventing skills

Have a child through the time machine

Generation 6 - Electricity

Child of electricity, you sure are a shocker! You thrive in the spotlight and want all eyes on you, for better or worse. You would never miss an opportunity to make a good story for the headlines. Rumours have been circulating that your appearances are a rouse: you're broke, narcissistic and even miserable! They're just jealous of your fame and fortune...right?

Traits: Inappropriate, Star Quality, Charismatic, Daredevil, Irresistible

LTW: Superstar Actor/Rock Star/Vocal Legend

Job: Actor/Musician/Singer

Requirements:

Reach Celebrity Level 5

Reach Level 10 of your chosen career

Have 3 negative scandals in your lifetime

Act inappropriately once per week

Live beyond your means - live in a large mansion and keep your household funds below 5,000. Spend any additional income on items, spa treatments and activities

Have a fall from grace and leave your children with nothing

Generation 7 - Metal

Child of metal, you know what it's like to be at rock bottom. Due to your parents neglect and carelessness, you taught yourself all you know to get by and find your next meal, even if you aren't proud of it. You are stubborn, self-reliant and one hell of an evil genius. You won't hit rock bottom again. Ever.

Traits: Evil, Kleptomaniac, Genius, Night Owl, Rebellious

LTW: Become a Master Thief

Job: Criminal Career

Requirements:

As a teen: consistently maintain D's at school, skip school, pull pranks and steal from neighbours

Work for tips as a mixologist in your young adulthood

Master the mixologist skill and learn every drink recipe

Have a found family

Steal an item every week

Never fall below 2,000 simoleons when you are independant. If you do or are about to, start doing whatever is necessary. We will never hit rock bottom

Marry a rich sim, have a child with them and kill your partner off

Generation 8 - Air

Child of air, your life so far has been turbulent and chaotic. Your parents death has scarred you and you have floated through life lost. You try to travel on the right path for your late parent, but you can't help but feel there is more to life than what meets the eye. There are sounds at night that wake you, unexplained foresight into future events and a pull to the paranormal. Perhaps it is time to stop fighting this unknown path and instead let the winds carry you to where you are meant to be.

Traits: Good, Light Sleeper, Unlucky, Over-Emotional, Neurotic

LTW: Master of Mysticism/Paranormal Profiteer

Job: Fortune Teller/Ghost Hunter

Requirements:

Join a base game job in young adulthood. Quit once you reach level 3

Reach level 10 of your chosen career

Donate money to charity every week to honour your late parent

Marry a supernatural or one of your clients

Do one exceptionally good thing in your lifetime (examples include: cure a supernatural, adopt a child, revive a dead sim)

Have a close relationship with your children

Generation 9 - Space

Child of space, you certainly are special. With your parents holding a unique view on the world and the afterlife, you grew up with an open mind and childlike awe of life's wonders and mysteries. Your parents advocated for you to question the world, and question you did! You excelled in your studies and took a particular interest in space. Is it true you become a star if you die?

Traits: Genius, Childish, Athletic, Slob, Ambitious

LTW: Perfect Student

Job: Military

Requirements:

Keep straight A's throughout school

Go to university and achieve a perfect GPA

Master the logic skill

Reach space by becoming an astronaut (Reach level 10 of the military career)

Have an alien baby