#A Humming Way (India)

[eatmangoesnekkid]

The most valuable frequency for female body health is deep relaxation. When we try to build connections with people and there is ongoing anxiety or fear humming in the background where we are worried that something we said may be interpreted the wrong way or we think we are constantly doing the “wrong” thing according to the person’s perceptions, tip-toe-ing around and second-guessing our actions, whenever we relate to this particular person, our bodies will be in a pattern of fight or flight, wondering what we will do next to trigger the person. Women wonder why our bodies don’t work well. For the female body, it’s the smallest, subtlest details that have the largest impact on our nervous system, female health, natural beauty, quality of moon cycles, and ability to regenerate overtime. Building connections should be easeful, flowy, honest, communicative, and more relaxing than fight or flight, even in their learnings and imperfections. —India Ame’ye

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous. 

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded. 

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly. 

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket. 

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself. 

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom. 

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long. 

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support. 

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down. 

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company. 

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. 

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him. 

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. 

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious. 

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms. 

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense. 

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?” 

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head. 

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.” 

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him. 

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything,  he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.” 

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment. 

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission. 

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close. 

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding. 

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault. 

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional. 

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

[celandeline]

Not Your Boyfriend, Baby

Farleigh X Reader, SMUT - tw for cheating, reader both cheats and is cheated on

part two

Being Felix’s girlfriend comes with a set of rules. 

Always stand to his right, so that he can hand you whatever he’s holding without having to think about it. Let him pull you into his lap whenever he wants, even if you’d really rather just sit next to him - always sit next to him. Laugh at the jokes he makes, even if they aren’t funny. Help him with his coursework when he asks, pretend that you need help with things that you know he’s good at so he doesn’t feel stupid. Pretend that he can make you cum. Pretend you don’t know he’s cheating on you.

Being Felix’s girlfriend comes with a set of rules - but the perks are worth it. 

The necklace he got you for your birthday costs more than your first car, and if you ever sell it, will easily cover rent for at least a year. Designer clothes have a habit of appearing in your dorm room unannounced, always in your size - just because Felix likes when you look good next to him. No clubs are too exclusive to get into, there’s always a booth in the back of the pub reserved for you, people bend over backwards just for the chance of being in Felix’s vicinity - so naturally they’ll do anything for you. 

You’re using him as much as he’s using you - it’s mutually beneficial. You get to live within his innermost circle, he gets to have someone to bring home to his parents so they don’t start looking into arranged marriages after graduation. You have no intentions of actually marrying him, god no - you’ve heard him talk about how many kids he wants, there’s no way in hell you’re pushing out six - but you’ll take what you can get. Felix is a comfortable rung on the social ladder you’re trying to climb. 

“Right, love?” 

Felix’s voice drags you out of your thoughts and back into reality - the warm lighting of the pub casts everyone around your table in a warm golden glow. You’re pressed against Felix’s right side - always his right side - his arm perched on the back of the booth around your shoulders, casually possessive. It’s a little funny how possessive he is, considering how often he cheats on you. On his other side, Annabel nurses a pint, her overlined eyes locked on Felix, utterly enraptured. 

Across the table, India looks at him with the same hunger, even though her head rests on Farleigh’s shoulder. Farleigh looks how you feel - utterly bored, his eyes wandering the room as he idly smokes a cigarette. He’s always been prettier than Felix. More interesting too. If you weren’t trying to climb the social ladder high enough to marry rich and not have to work a day in your life, he’d be who you’re pressed against instead of Felix. There’s something about him that’s always given you the sense that he sees right through you, but it’s exciting. You know he knows why you’re here next to Felix, with a diamond he bought you around your neck. But Felix has no idea - he thinks you’re in love with him. 

It’s laughable, how in his own head he is. 

Still, you feed into the delusion, that practiced sugary-sweet smile playing at your lips as you look up at him. “Mhm.” You hum, picking up your pint and sipping at it. 

Felix grins wide, and turns back to Annabel. “See?”

Annabel rolls her eyes, leaning around Felix to pin a look at you. “You weren’t even paying attention.”

The animosity that every other girl within a fifty mile radius directs at you is the one drawback of being Felix’s main piece. Your smile turns a little sharper. “Yeah.” You admit easily, setting your pint back down. “But I know Felix enough to know that he was probably right.”

Across the table, Farleigh snorts. 

Your eyes slide over to him, and he meets your glance. Ever so slightly, he tilts his head, a dry smile playing at his lips - a silent, really?

You tilt your head in the same direction, mocking - yes, really.

Felix turns back to Annabel. “I’m always right, Anna - best get used to it.”

She rolls her eyes again, but this time it’s playful - flirty, even. You can already see how the rest of tonight is going to play out - Felix will make some excuse about drinking too much or not feeling well or whatever else his idiotic brain can come up with, and disappear back to his dorm room to fuck her. Tomorrow, of course, you’ll act like you’re none the wiser. In two weeks time, when the guilt starts to get at him, a new pair of heels or a Dior skirt will find its way into your closet. 

Simply the way of things. 

Pulling away from Felix’s hold, you make to get up. He glances at you, concerned, but you only smile, and kiss him on the cheek so that you can slide out of the booth. “Gotta use the loo.”

You brush your hands down your skirt as you stand up, and start towards the back of the pub, where the bathrooms are, tossing a look over your shoulder back at the table. You catch Farleigh’s eye, and hold it for a moment. His lips curl upward around his cigarette. With Felix likely going home with Annabel, your schedule for the night just opened up…

Maybe tonight’s the night you do something - someone - just for yourself. Set your plans for the future aside for once, and just have fun. After all, you’re confident Felix will be none the wiser - you know exactly what not to do after watching him fumble around with any and every other girl that’s caught his eye. 

You disappear into the bathroom, Farleigh’s gaze still on you. 

The noise from the pub is quieter here, just a dull hum seeping in through the walls. You lock the door behind you, and inspect yourself in the mirror. You smudge the dark eyeshadow around your eyes a little more, and fluff up your hair so that it doesn’t sit so lifelessly against your head. Your sex appeal back in place, you splash some water on your hands and pat them against your skirt before you leave, stepping back out into the pub. 

As expected, Farleigh is waiting for you, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, finishing off his cigarette. A quick glance back at the table lets you know that you were right - Annabel and Felix are gone. India’s moved onto Jack now, laughing a little too loud at something he says. 

“Felix said he wasn’t feeling well, all of a sudden.” Farleigh drawls, bringing your attention back to him. “Annabel’s walking him home.” There’s a touch of humor in his voice that you appreciate - he knows just as well as you do what they’re off to do.

“Shame.” You say, not bothering to try and sound actually sad at all. It wouldn’t fool Farleigh anyway. “Got tired of India?” You snatch the last of his cigarette from his fingers, finishing it off in one drag and dropping the butt to the floor, stamping it out with my boot. 

Farleigh watches you, his eyes half-lidded. “Is there such a thing as not being tired of India?”

“She’s not all bad.” You say. 

He tilts his head, that wry smile coming back to his face. “She’s not trying to fuck you.”

You can’t help but grin at that. “Touche.” You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of India’s flirting - but if Farleigh’s boredom is anything to judge by, she must not be very good at it. 

Silence falls between us, and you let yourself look at him, eyes tracing down the lines of his neck until you reach the hollow at the base, and then back up to his lips.

“So.” Farleigh says. 

You meet his eyes again. “So.”

He grins, foxlike and charming. “You wanna get out of here?”

The walk back to campus is short, but it feels longer with how much you talk about with Farleigh - school and America and family and money and Felix and a million other, less important, things. It’s the most intellectually stimulating conversation you’ve had in a long time, and the most you’ve genuinely laughed in a while too. It’s everything you’ve been missing with Felix - and it makes the war between your want for fortune and fame in the future and your want for genuine connection rage all the more. 

It comes to an end all too quickly for your liking, as you reach the steps to your dorm. 

You slow to a stop, and Farleigh stops as well, looking down at you, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Does it ever bother you?” He asks.

“What?” You reply. 

“That he cheats on you.” Farleigh clarifies. 

It’s a complicated question to answer, so instead you turn it around on him instead. “Does it ever bother you that he’s fucked India?”

Farleigh rolls his eyes. “That’s-”

“He does it to literally everyone.” You press on. “I stopped caring a while ago.”

Something contemplative washes over his face, and he just looks at you for a moment, eyes searching yours for something. His next question is quieter. “Who would you pick, if you weren’t stuck with him?”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m not stuck with him.”

Farleigh looks at you, obviously amused. “I can see you trying not to roll your eyes every time he opens his mouth.”

You shrug. “The pros outweigh the cons.”

“So cynical.” He taunts, stepping closer. “You still haven’t answered the question.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious who I would pick if I wasn’t with Felix.” You say, letting him back you up the steps until your back is against the door. You look up at him, and meet his eyes. 

He grins. “Yeah, but I want you to say it.”

“It’s you.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Like it would be anyone else-”

He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, a moan leaving him as you deepen the kiss without waiting, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and vodka and it’s made all the more delicious by the little noises that keep working up his throat, elicited when you grab him by the belt and pull him closer so that you’re chest to chest. He groans when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip and pull away, tugging him with you by the mouth. When you release him, he still follows after you anyway, chasing you for more. 

Fingers still dancing on his belt, you smile. “Come up to my dorm with me?”

“Yes, fuck, please.” He already sounds debauched, and it sends a spike of heat straight down to your core. Felix would never deign himself to beg. 

You push open the door to the dorm building, and start up the stairs, Farleigh trailing only a half step behind you. You fumble with your keys once you reach the door to your room, and Farleigh latches onto the back of your neck, trailing kisses across the sensitive skin that send a shiver up your spine.

Once you get the door open, you drag him inside and kick it back shut, locking it behind you. 

Farleigh’s back on you in an instant, mouthing under your jaw. You wind a hand into his curls, pulling his head back from your neck. “Don’t leave any marks or Felix-”

He rolls his eyes, and cuts you off. “Duh.”

Without any more preamble he dives back into your neck, kissing along the length of it until he makes his way back up to your lips. You meet him in a kiss greedily, pushing off the door behind you and walking him back towards your bed. He hits the bedframe and breaks the kiss to sit on the edge. With a grin, you’re climbing into his lap and gently pushing him down until his backs flat against the mattress. 

He’s so pretty like this - curls splayed out across your duvet cover, hands gripping onto your hips like you’ll float away if he lets go. You run a hand under his shirt, rucking it up so that you can see the way his stomach flexes when you touch him. Slowly, you dip your head down to lick a trail up his abdomen, never breaking eye contact. 

He tips his head back with a shaky groan. “Oh, fuck.”

You grin, shifting forward so that you can nose under his jaw, lips ghosting across the shell of his ear. “What about you? Will India get mad if I-”

“Don’t fucking care, I want you to do it anyway.” He says, a little breathless. He’s so responsive - every little groan and whine shoots heat straight to your core. If sex with Felix was like this, maybe you wouldn’t have to pretend to be in love with him. 

You sink your teeth into his neck just below his ear and he keens, his hips knocking up into yours. His fingers dig into your hips, bunching the fabric of your skirt into his fists like he’s holding on for dear life. You take the opportunity to start the slow roll of your hips as you work a chain of hickeys across his neck, scattering them artfully around his collarbone. 

Deft fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, pushing it up your spine until you get the message and pull it off yourself, flinging it somewhere in your room. Farleigh wiggles out of his own shirt underneath you, pushing the offending garment off the edge of the bed. Freed of your shirt, you reach behind you to unclasp your bra as well, tossing it in the same direction. 

Farleigh’s eyes fall to your tits immediately, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate. “I see why Felix keeps you around-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You say with a smile. Even when you have him in your bed, he’s the same old Farleigh. It’s a breath of fresh air after having to pretend you like when Felix calls himself ‘daddy’. 

Your skirt is next, and then the tights you’d had on underneath it as Farleigh works on his trousers, kicking them off the end of the bed. Only your underwear left, you resume grinding against him, watching as his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he uses his grip on your hips to work you over him harder. 

“How do you want me?” You ask, leaning down to press more kisses along the length of his neck. 

You expect him to respond - to tell you to turn over on all fours or ride him reverse cowgirl - but he only sighs in the back of his throat. “Whatever you like, baby.” 

You press your lips to his in another greedy kiss, licking into his mouth and swallowing up the moans that slip past his lips. He’s not making it easy to think about going back to Felix after this. Felix, who calls himself ‘daddy’ and manhandles you around however he likes and hasn’t made you cum a single time. You can feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your underwear from how malleable Farleigh is underneath you - how he looks at you like he’d gladly do anything you ask him to. 

You slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and shuck them down his legs. Your own underwear are next, and then you’re grinding on him again, spreading your wetness up and down his length. 

Farleigh’s grip tightens, and he tips his head back again. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he moans. “Mm.” He picks his head back up enough so that he can look at you. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to go down on you but - mm - I don’t think you need it- oh fuck!”

Rising up on your knees, you line him up and slide down him in one drop of your hips, lodging him inside of you. He’s longer than Felix is, but skinnier too so the stretch doesn’t sting as much. God, it’s like he was made for you, with how easily he reaches right where you need him to without even trying. You start to bounce, planting your hands on his chest for leverage and tossing your head back, losing yourself in the feeling. 

Farleigh whines, a high pitched breathy thing that sounds like it’s been forced out of him as you start to move. Gently, you pry his hands away from your hips and pin them down over his head, just because he lets you do it. It’s a rush - that he’ll let you do whatever you want and take it happily - and it goes to your head. He strains against your grip but you don’t let up, working yourself up and down his cock just to watch his eyes roll up into his head. 

“What- ahh, what are you doing?” Farleigh chokes out, straining against your grip again. 

“Whatever I want.” You croon, whispering against his lips. 

He snags you in a kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth hungrily as he plants his feet on the mattress, thrusting so that his hips meet yours on every downstroke. A sharp gasp forces its way out of your throat as the coil in your stomach starts to tighten, and you can’t help but smile at him. It’s almost a novelty, the way he works with you instead of against you like Felix often does. 

He grins back up at you, and tilts his chin upward to kiss you again. Breathy, he says, “Felix is an idiot.”

You choke on a moan as a particularly hard thrust jolts through you. “Why’s that?”

“He doesn’t know what he has.” Farleigh says. “I’ve fucked India and - fuck - Annabel and they’ve got nothing on you.”

You laugh and moan at the same time. “You don’t have to - mm - be nice just so I’ll let you cum in me.”

“I can be nice.” He breathes. 

You ghost your lips over his neck. “You’re never nice.”

“I can be nice.” He insists, turning his head so that you can litter kisses along the length of his neck. You trail upwards until you reach the lobe of his ear, biting gently at the skin. “To you.”

“Careful.” You say. “Better stop now or I might think you’re in love with me or something-”

Farleigh tenses up beneath you, as a long groan escapes from his lips as he throws his head back. He thrusts three more times before he stills, slumping back down to the mattress, panting hard. His eyes flutter open, blown wide as he looks up at you. 

You can feel a smirk playing on your lips. “Did you just cum?”

He has the decency to look a little ashamed. “Maybe.”

You laugh, and kiss him. “Well, what are we supposed to do now?”

“I’m good.” He insists, working his wrists free of your hold. “I can still- here, just-”

He pulls you to his chest and rolls on the mattress so that you’re underneath him now, and resumes fucking into you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. The change in position makes the feeling all the more potent, and a moan slips out from your lips. 

Winding your arms around his shoulders, you rake your nails up his back, and feel him shiver against you. “Farleigh…”

“Don’t fucking do that.” He laughs. “I’ll cum again.”

You toss your head back against the pillow as he speeds up his thrusts, obviously trying to get you to cum before he’s too spent to keep going. You let your eyes flutter shut and enjoy the feeling of him against you, the tickle of his curls against your neck, the breathy moans that slip from his lips into your ear, the feeling of his teeth against your neck as he sucks a hickey into your skin-

“Farleigh-” You start, only to cut yourself off as the coil finally snaps and pleasure shoots through you. “Oh fuck-”

He groans, and shoves his face deeper into your neck as his thrusts slow to a stop. He slumps again, flopping on top of you with a long sigh.

When you come back to your senses, you tug on his hair until he grumbles. “You are such a dick.” You say. “I said no marks.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles into your skin. 

“No you’re fucking not.” You retort. 

He lifts his head out of your neck, that foxlike grin on his face again. “No I’m not.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” You ask. 

He pulls out, and flops back down on the bed next to you, nosing back into the crook of your neck as he slings an arm over your chest. “Makeup. Wear your hair down.” He shrugs. “It’s Felix - he’ll probably think he did it.”

You rest your chin on the top of his head, the aftershocks of pleasure running through you. “‘M never having sex with you again.”

Farleigh snorts. “Yeah, okay.”

You smile into his hair, because he’s right. Of course he’s right. There’s no way in hell this isn’t going to become a regular occurrence. 

[raindropsofloev]

ANCIENT INDIA MEIN PADHAI WAS NOT JUST TO GET EMPLOYMENT, IT WAS A WAY OF LIFE UNLIKE NOW JAHAN HUM SIRF ROZGAR KE LIYE PADHTE HAI AUR HAMARA PADHAI SE KOI LENA DENA NAHI HAI

[gguk-n]

can you write lando norris x desi!reader!gf where they go back to celebrate ganesh chaturthi, and yn hosts ganapati bappa in her own house in india and its lando's first time pleaseee

Festive Hearts

Jalebi- dessert made of flour or flour and rice flour fried and dipped in sugar syrup. Kurta Pajama- Indian attire for men made of various material which includes a tunic and a loose fitting pant. Shalwar Kameez- Similar to Kurta Pajama but for women. Pooja- A Hindu ritual of worship.

I'm not an expert when it comes to this so please forgive me if there are any discrepancies

Lando and Y/N had been dating for a while now, long enough that her family knew about Lando, he was very well loved. That's how he ended up in India during Ganesh Chaturthi. Lando wasn't there on the day Ganapati Bappa was being brought into the house due to the race. He got there a few days before the immersion. Lando was like a kid in a candy store. Everything was bright and vibrant. The whole house was decorated in flowers and lights. There was always delicious and new food for him to eat. "Babe, my trainer's gonna hate me" he told his girlfriend while munching on his third jalebi. "These are delicious. Do you eat these every day?" he mumbled with food in his mouth. "No, Lan, no one eats these every day." she laughed. "Your mum keeps handing them to me, I don't know how to say no." he looked at her apologetically. Y/N called her mum out to stop feeding her boyfriend.

There were a lot of Formula One fans in Y/N's home town which meant Lando got recognised and asked for pictures and autographs. Y/N's family was the one hosting Ganapati Bappa this year in their community. So, there was always a crowd of people going in and out of the house, and now Lando brought another crowd along too. But he wasn't complaining, he wanted to get to know the people that got to see his love grow up.

On the day of the immersion, Lando was dressed in a white crisp Kurta Pajama and his girlfriend wore shalwar kameez. The family had woken up early and were busy in preparation since the auspicious time was during the mid-day. Lando could see his girlfriend running around trying to get the things ready for the ritual. Y/N's dad handed Lando some flowers and desserts for offering and asked him to put it away. There was this energy that was running through everyone's veins as the time drew closer. A sense of emotions over took them, it was like watching your family leave for some time.

There would a huge procession leaving with Ganapati Bappa after the Pooja. There would be songs and people would dance along the way from the house to the sea, where Ganapati Bappa would be immersed in the water. Y/N's siblings took Lando along with them to dance. Y/N had only seen Lando dance in clubs and now she could see him dance along with her siblings, learning as he went. It was a beautiful sight with Ganapati Bappa over looking everyone as they partook in the celebrations. "He's a keeper" her mother said. Y/N jumped from surprise. "When did you get here?" she asked. "Just now" her mother replied fondly looking at Lando. "He has really been trying since he got here" her mother spoke more to herself. "To get everyone to like him." she hummed. "Do you like him?" Y/N asked expectantly. "We liked him when you said you loved him" her mother replied. Y/N smiled at her mother and decided to join everyone in the celebrations.

After everything was done, and everyone returned; the house in disarray. Her mother started cleaning up while the others joined. Finally, Lando laid on the cot in the courtyard exhausted from the day's events. Y/N sat near his head playing with his hair. "Do you guys do this every year?" he asked looking up; "yup" she replied. "This is so much fun but I've never been more exhausted in my life and I've driven in Singapore." he chuckled. "You'll get used to it" she hummed, checking around before pressing a kiss to Lando's lips. "Spiderman kiss" Lando mumbled as he placed his hand on her neck pulled her closer. Y/N's mum coughed making the pair pull away, a blush visible on their cheeks. "I get you two love each other, but there's still some cleaning left" she said while the two whined and Y/N got up to help her mum. "Rest for some time and then join me" she told Lando before pecking his cheek and walking away.

Sorry this was short, I felt kind of lost.

[irisintheafterglow]

i'm having many thoughts about bf!satoru playing pretend with little megumi so bear with me.

"oh no, we've been hit by a sudden lightning storm! get down, buddy!"

"no, we haven't! your yelling is going to scare the tigers away."

"tigers? i thought we were in africa."

"we were in africa yesterday, but we took a ship to india and now we're looking at tigers."

"oh, you're right. sorry, i'm not good at keeping track of our travel itinerary."

"it's okay; that's why i write it all down in your passport."

the vague sounds of your boyfriend and your unofficial son ring out in the apartment. you shake out your umbrella and hang your coat by the door, the sounds of incessant rain pattering against your windows. your boys are nowhere to be found.

"megs? 'toru?"

"in here!" you follow your boyfriend's voice to the room that you've designated as megumi's room, a place for him to call his own whenever he wasn't staying with family. it was sparsely decorated because you'd only moved into the new space a few days ago, but it was already cozier than the stale dorms at jujutsu tech. "we've decided to adventure into the jungle," satoru says from within the tent pitched in the middle of the room.

"mhmm," you hum in amusement and slight confusion, "and where did you get the tent?"

"stole it," megumi pipes up, his face sticking out of the zippered door flap. he unzips the entrance all the way and you give your boyfriend an incredulous look. "satoru said it was okay."

"you stole it?" megumi snickers at your tone that makes satoru raise his hands defensively.

"you think yaga's gonna be camping in this weather, sweetheart?"

"you're teaching him that stealing is okay," you argue with a hand on your hip.

"if it's from yaga-"

"satoru," you chuckle, dragging a hand down your face. he really was an idiot when he tried to be. you can't say that megumi's smile wasn't making you happy, though. "look, just make sure he gets it back without him actually knowing it was gone."

"deal, now get in here," satoru says before grabbing your hand and tugging you into the tent. it's so small that his shoulders pull forward because he can't sit up straight and his hair brushes the top of the tent. it becomes even more cramped when you crash into the various pillows and blankets they'd pulled from the closet. "look at what we did." his finger points up at the string of lights they'd successfully strewn across the top perimeter of the tent, making your faces glow in soft hues of yellow and orange. "what time is it out there?"

"what, in the jungle?"

"in the real world," satoru corrects. "this explorer is getting a little hungry."

"it's almost 5:00, so we can grab something for dinner soon. but, first, i wanna see these tigers you're looking at." you run your hand through satoru's hair and he leans into your touch. megumi enthusiastically shows you his binoculars toy that changed pictures of different animals with the flick of a bright blue switch. as he plays, you lean back into satoru's chest and his arms wrap around your body. "what were you thinking for dinner, love?"

"i was thinking soup, but i'm good with whatever you're craving," he murmurs in your ear. "i'm just glad you're home."

"me too. maybe we can go furniture shopping tomorrow if the weather lets up," you suggest. his body is warm like a space heater and it's a nice contrast to the chilly winter storm raging on outside.

"i'm also just as happy to sleep in this tiny little tent with you and the kid."

"i love you, satoru."

"i love you more. also, we should get him more pictures for that little toy."

"or, i just portal us to see some actual tigers." you feel him laugh softly against your body. "i could portal us to africa, too. just depends on your itinerary."

"you're very funny," he deadpans lightheartedly.

"i know i am. it's why you love me so much."

"very true. i'll go anywhere as long as i'm with you."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[newtonsheffield]

Alright, alright. I won’t give the writers any credit bc they did our duo badly even in their own season, BUT I will will give you credit (Netflix should really hire you) and ask if you could write kathony returning with twins that would be priceless. I have given up on the show showing us their baby

Netflix, once again, I can fix this for you.

“Will you miss it?”

Anthony’s fingers were warm in hers as the carriage trundled along through the bustling city, bustling in a different way than she’d become reaccustomed to the last few months

Kate nodded a little, “I’ll always miss it. I’ll miss Edwina, and my Mama and India as well but… I’m glad to be going home with you. They’ll visit and I know you love being at home truly.”

Anthony squeezed her hand, “I’m happy to be home. I’m eager for my family to meet the children.”

Neither of them had expected it. She’d been so happy, and relieved when the midwife had hummed

“A healthy baby boy.”

His cries had cut the night and Anthony’s lips had pressed against her sweaty temple again and again. “Oh love he’s so beautiful! You did so well, love. He’s perfect.”

“The other will be along in a moment.”

Kate’s heart had stopped “I’m sorry.”

“The other baby, it won’t be long now.”

Anthony let out a squeak of surprise and Edwina and Mary had exchanged a look as Kate swallowed.

“Twins?”

“Yes, Lady Bridgerton. Twins. Now here comes the other. Push again.”

They’d stayed together, one baby in each of their arms, Anthony’s voice full of awe.

“Two babies. We’re good at making babies apparently.”

Kate chuckled, her fingers moving over the dark hair already on each of their heads. “Two very handsome boys. They take after their Papa obviously.”

“Hopefully they’ll be as clever as their Amma.”

The carriage trundled to a stop and the baby stirred in Kate’s arms. Edmund, Neddy’s eyes staring into hers for a moment.

“We’re home now, little one. You and your little brother are about to meet some very important people.”

The family was already spilling out onto the stairs, Violet rushing forward to greet Anthony, stopping when she caught sight of Miles in his arms.

“Is this my grandchild?!”

Anthony sighed, “Mama, you might want to wait a moment to get excited.”

He helped Kate down from the carriage, and the family fell silent as they caught sight of Edmund.

“Of course you had to have two children at once.” Benedict sighed, “You just couldn’t let Simon or Colin outdo you could you?”

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Eighteen

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Eighteen: Meeting Sao Feng

Summary: (Y/N) and their friends need a map to Davy Jones's locker, and that means venturing to Singapore.

Two months later…

            (Y/N) sat behind Elizabeth as she punted them downstream in the waters around Singapore. The song had recently reached the pirates, and the pair sang it quietly. (Y/N) sang it for all the people who had lost their lives as the East India Trading Company’s reign of terror began.

            “Some have died, and some are alive,” they hummed quietly. “Others sail on the sea. With the keys to the cage, and the devil to pay, we lay to the Fiddler’s Green. The bell has been raised from its watery grave. Hear its sepulchral tone.”

            (Y/N) watched as British soldiers stalked across bridges in search of more innocent lives to destroy. They caught pirates daily, yet they were the ones colonizing, pillaging, thieving.

            “A call to all, pay heed to the squall, turn your sails to home. Yo ho,” sang (Y/N). “Haul together. Hoist the colors high.”

            Elizabeth stopped the longboat and tied it.

            “Heave-ho.”

            They stepped out.

            “Thieve—”

            “Thief and beggar,” said the guard of the secret entrance to Soa Feng’s pirate lair.

            Sao Fang was the leader of the Singaporean pirates and the latest person they needed to contact in order to have a way to reach World’s End, the Black Pearl, and Jack.

            “Never shall we die,” finished the guard. “A dangerous song to be singing for any who are ignorant of its meaning. Particularly a woman and a child.” He smirked. “Particularly when they’re alone.”

            “What makes you think they’re alone?” Barbossa walked down to the canal.

            “You protect them?” snapped the guard.

            (Y/N) grabbed one guard, and Elizabeth grabbed another. They lifted knives to their throats.

            “We don’t need protecting,” said (Y/N).

            Barbossa grinned. After returning to life, he had worked with the crew of the Pearl to find it again. He had found that Elizabeth was a formidable pirate (especially after she threatened him with a sword to cut his throat if he tried to touch her, Will, or (Y/N) again). He had also discovered that (Y/N) was as dangerous as they had seemed fighting alongside Jack. In fact, he had become a little fond of (Y/N) (if only to hopefully piss of Jack a bit that his protégé could also be taught by Barbossa). All in all, he was enjoying the expert crew of the Black Pearl.

            “Your master’s expecting us,” said Barbossa. “And an unexpected death’d cast a slight pall on our meeting.”

            All the pirates looked at each other and hesitantly lowered their weapons warily.

            “Pick those feet up!” said a British soldier. “Eyes front.”

            The pirates retreated to the edge of the canal to avoid being spotted. Sao Feng’s guards led the way to the grate and into the underground tunnels of Singapore.

            “Have you heard anything from Will?” asked Elizabeth.

            “I trust young Turner to acquire the charts and you to remember your place in the presence of Captain Sao Feng,” warned Barbossa.

            “What’s he like?” asked (Y/N), not promising anything.

            “He’s much like myself, but absent my merciful nature and sense of fair play,” said Barbossa.

            Wonderful, thought (Y/N).

            The guards walked up to a lock door and spoke a password. It was unlocked and opened to reveal a new passageway. Several guards held out their hands, and Barbossa began handing over his weapons. (Y/N) grumbled but handed over their sword, pistol, and daggers. Elizabeth, on the other hand, somehow procured over a dozen weapons from her person, hidden in places no one would think of except for her (even some unsavory places).

            Finally, though, they were let into Sao Feng’s chambers. It was a sauna full of pirates being served by women with drinks and drugs. The heavy smoke of opium hung in the air, and (Y/N) wrinkled their nose.

            Sao Feng himself stood on a dais, clad in leather armor with ornate embellishments. A large scar extended across his face, and he looked down his nose at the group. While Barbossa enjoyed the riches and glory of captaining and Jack adored the very act of being on the sea, it was clear Sao Feng loved the power he commanded in a room.

            Barbossa bowed to appease his ego. He gestured to Elizabeth and (Y/N). Elizabeth bowed, and (Y/N) suppressed a roll of their eyes before bowing. Their skin itched. For two months now, every time they had to do something they didn’t wish to or had to obey another’s wishes that went against their own, the itch returned. The restless energy was deep in their body, in their heart.

            “Captain Barbossa, welcome to Singapore,” said Sao Feng. He glanced at his servant. “More steam.” Water vapor pumped into the air. “I understand that you have a request to make of me.”

            “More of a proposal to put to ye,” said Barbossa. “I’ve a venture underway, and I find myself in want of a ship and a crew.”

            “Hm. It’s an odd coincidence,” remarked Sao Feng. His tone, however, suggested he knew more than he had so far revealed.

            “Because you happen to have a ship and a crew you don’t need?” said Elizabeth, raising a brow.

            “No,” said Sao Feng. “Because earlier this day, not far from here, a thief broke into my most revered uncle’s temple and tried to make off with these.” He picked up a roll of maps. “The navigational charts. The route to the Farthest Gate.”

            Elizabeth, Barbossa, and (Y/N) exchanged looks. Those were what Will had been searching for.

            Sao Feng threw the charts to a guard. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if this venture of yours took you to the world beyond this one?”

            “It would strain credulity at that,” said Barbossa.

            (Y/N) nearly rolled their eyes, and they glanced warily around.

            Sao Feng nodded to a pair of guards by a steam bath. They raised a log to reveal arms tied to it. Will gasped for air as he was raised from the scalding water.

            “This is the thief,” said Sao Feng casually. “Is his face familiar to you?”

            All three shook their heads “no.”

            “Then I guess he has no further need for it,” said Sao Feng, rearing back to stab Will.

            “No, no,” gasped Elizabeth, unable to stop herself.

            Sao Feng stopped and turned around slowly. He had trapped them in their lie. “You come into my city, and you betray my hospitality.

            Barbossa stood straight. “I assure you I had no idea—”

            “That he would get caught!” interrupted Sao Feng.

            Around them, Singaporean pirates stood and surrounded the group.

            “You intend to attempt the voyage to Davy Jones’s locker,” said Sao Feng matter-of-factly. “But I cannot help but wonder…why?”

            (Y/N) shifted, and Barbossa and Elizabeth both put a hand out. If (Y/N) were to speak up, it wouldn’t be polite, which wouldn’t end well. (Y/N)’s skin itched, and they shifted with unused energy.

            Barbossa tossed a coin through the air in response to Sao Feng. He caught it, bit it to test it, and stared at it.

            “The song has been sung,” said Barbossa. “The time is upon us. We must convene the Brethren Court. As one of the nine pirate lords, you must honor the call.”

            Sao Feng narrowed his eyes. His hand curled into a fist. “More steam.” The words held all the frustration he wished to express. Nothing came, and he whirled on his servants. “More steam!” he bellowed. Still none.

            “There is a price on all our heads,” continued Barbossa, distracting Sao Feng from what was most likely their crew interfering.

            “Aye. It is true,” said Sao Feng. “It seems the only way a pirate can turn a profit anymore…is by betraying other pirates.”

            Oh, bloody hell, thought (Y/N). It was a suspicious turn of phrase, even if he seemed to be addressing Will’s predicament.

            Barbossa continued. “We must put our differences aside. The First Brethren Court gave us rule of the seas.”

            (Y/N)’s gaze flicked to him, and their hands clenched at their sides. The seas weren’t to be ruled by anyone. They were free, wild, untamable. Like m—

            “But now that rule is being challenged by Lord Cuter Beckett,” said Barbossa.

            “Against the East India Trading Company, what value is the Brethren Court?” said Sao Feng derisively. “What can any of us do?”

            “You can fight,” snapped (Y/N), their words breaking free. Sao Feng’s sharp gaze landed on them, but they did not cower. “You are Sao Feng, pirate lord of Singapore. You’re a commander in an age where brave captains still sail free waters, despite those waves being measure in fear and not feet.” Their stormy eyes flicked over Sao Feng, and it was as piercing as a needle. “And yet you would just watch such an era come to an end.” They met his eyes. “The most notorious pirates from around the world are uniting against our enemy. Their names will be remembered in legends.” A soft sneering smirk spread across their features. “Yours will be drowned in the bathwater you cower within.”

            Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and Barbossa closed his eyes and cursed Jack for teaching them to be so mouthy (not that it had come from him. It was natural to (Y/N), and their natural self broke free more and more every day).

            Sao Feng stared at them and stepped off the dais. (Y/N) refused to flinch or back away. Sao Feng circled them like a shark, gazing at them quizzically.

            “(Y/N) Swann,” said Sao Feng. “There is more to you than meets the eyes, isn’t there?”

            (Y/N) followed him with their eyes as he circled them and returned to the front.

            “But I cannot help but notice you have failed to answer my question,” continued Sao Feng. “What is it you seek in Davy Jones’s Locker?” Barbossa opened his mouth, but Sao Feng held up a hand. “I want the small one to answer.”

            That must be me since I’m the kid.

            “They seem to enjoy speaking.”

            I’d prefer fighting. Thankfully, (Y/N) kept that thought to themself. “A friend.”

            Sao Feng narrowed his eyes. “That is not an answer.”

            “It is,” said (Y/N).

            Elizabeth fought back a sigh as (Y/N) decided to be sarcastic and play tricks with the pirate lord of Singapore.

            “Jack Sparrow!” declared Will, breaking in. “We seek Jack Sparrow.”

            Laughter erupted throughout the sauna.

            “He’s one of the pirate lords,” said Will, speaking over the derision.

            (Y/N) watched Sao Feng run a hand over his head. They noted the slight tremble with curiosity.

            “The only reason I would want Jack Sparrow returned from the land of the dead is so I can send him back myself!” he hissed.

            It seems Jack left his usual impression on people on Sao Feng.

            “Jack Sparrow holds one of the nine pieces of eight,” said Barbossa. “He failed to pass it along to a successor before he died. So we must go and get him back.”

            “So you admit…you have deceived me,” said Sao Feng slowly. “Weapons!” He drew his sword.

            All the pirates let out a shout and grabbed their weapons.

            “Sao Feng, I assure you, our intentions are strictly honorable,” said Barbossa.

            Through the slatted boards, swords flew up into the air. Barbossa, (Y/N), and Elizabeth each caught one. Barbossa caught the extra for Will. He coughed as Sao Feng narrowed his eyes. Obviously, their intentions had been honorable with a heavy dose of “just in case” dishonesty.

            Sao Feng grabbed a Singapore man and held a sword to his throat. “Drop your weapons or I kill the man!”

            (Y/N), Elizabeth, Will, and Barbossa wore identical expressions of confusion.

            “Kill him,” said Barbossa. “He’s not our man.”

            Now it was Sao Feng’s turn to look confused as he stared at the nervous man.

            “If he’s not with you, and he’s not with us…who’s he with?” said Will.

            “Beckett,” breathed (Y/N).

            Bam!

            The doors broke open the moment the name left them. “Charge!” cried the British. Muskets fired, and the pirates ducked and attacked as best they could.

            Will used the pole he was tied to in order to rush into several men before they could fire. (Y/N) wove through the crowd and slashed through his bindings. Barbossa tossed him a sword. Elizabeth expertly dueled several soldiers at once, and (Y/N) handled their own crowd. They swept through the British, dancing through the attacks aimed at them. They flowed like water from one stab to another parry to a slash to a duck to a kick to a pivot to attack after attack.

            From within the platoon, a familiar face emerged. Mercer stepped out, clad in black, and looked across the room of fighting pirates with his sharp, cruel eyes. They landed on (Y/N), and he raised a gun. It was not a pistol, though. This one contained a small dart to incapacitate its target. Of course, Mercer had a proper pistol at his side. If the child resisted…Well, Beckett said controlled or killed.

            Bang!

            “(Y/N)!” Elizabeth tackled them as she saw the shot.

            It flew over their head and hit the wall. Will ran to their side and hauled Elizabeth and (Y/N) up. Barbossa and Sao Feng cut down several attacks, and the group found themselves fighting side by side. Unfortunately, the British were closing in and had their muskets ready once more.

            “Ready?” said Mercer, preparing another dart.

            (Y/N)’s gaze flicked to it, confused but frightened at what it meant for them.

            “Fire.”

            Boom!

            Instead of the crack of rifles, the floor exploded. The British collapsed back into the hole. The pirates shouted a war cry and stormed onward. Sao Feng grabbed the charts as they ran. The Black Pearl crew ran out from beneath the sauna, fired their pistols, and drew their swords. It was Singapore and Pearl pirates versus the East India Company.

            The fight spread into the streets of Singapore as the pirates fled the British, and shops and carts were overturned as their keepers joined the angry brawl—fists were as much weapons at this point as muskets or cutlasses.

            (Y/N) leapt over a table and slid under another. With a flick of their wrist, they cut through a soldier’s ankle, and he collapsed. Without being able to stand, (Y/N) ended him in another stab before jumping onto another table to gain the high ground. A soldier ran at them, and they jumped to avoid him. They grabbed the tent’s supporting pole, swung forward, and kicked him in the head. (Y/N) landed and darted towards the canals.

            Behind them, a group of soldiers aimed to fire, but the cart behind them exploded. They fell dead and hurtled into the river. (Y/N) grinned behind them, knowing Tia Dalma stood smirking at her plan working.

            They ran beside the canals, waiting to spot another friend to regroup.

            Boom!

            This time not according to plan, a building exploded with a hundred unplanned fireworks. It was right behind them, and (Y/N) flew through the air. Their vision spun between dark and light, and they splashed into the water. They submerged, and their mind cleared. They pushed to the surface and took a deep breath.

            Grumbling, they pulled themself to the walkway.

            “Goin’ for a swim at a time like this?”

            (Y/N) looked up, unamused, at Barbossa. “Putting on a firework show at a time like this?” they retorted.

            Barbossa chuckled and pulled (Y/N) out of the water. Tia Dalma stood next to him and gazed at (Y/N) with a smile.

            “How do you feel?” said Tia Dalma.

            “Wet,” said (Y/N). “But fine.” They had only been temporarily disoriented.

            “I’m sure,” said Tia Dalma.

            Will appeared from round the corner with a group of pirates.

            “You have the charts?” said Barbossa, eyes locking on the bundle in Will’s arms.

            “And better yet,” said Will. He tossed the charts to Barbossa and gestured to the Singaporean pirates behind him. “A ship and a crew.”

            “Where’s Sao Feng?” Elizabeth joined the rendezvous with the rest of the Black Pearl crew.

            “He’ll cover our escape and meet us at Shipwreck Cove,” said Will.

            Barbossa nodded. “This way. Be quick.”

l

            (Y/N) looked back at the fire still burning in Singapore as they sailed away. The water rippled around them as the ship moved smoothly over the water. They held the edge of the ship tightly. They had a way to Jack. They’d find him, the Pearl, and a way to stop Beckett. Freedom would win. It had to.

            “There seems to be a lot on your mind,” said Tia Dalma, joining them at the side of the ship.

            “I’m worried about Jack. What it must be like in the Locker,” said (Y/N).

            “Jack is a man of no constancy, coming and going with the tide. But he is also one of great passion for what he cares for—adventure, life, freedom…” Tia Dalma looked at (Y/N). “But the Locker cannot take his heart. He will lose nothing but his mind.”

            “Which was lost a long time ago,” said (Y/N) with a smile.

            “Then you have nothing to fear,” said Tia Dalma, reaching out and touching (Y/N)’s hand. It was clear (Y/N) was attached to Jack, though how deserving he was of it remained to be seen.

            (Y/N) hummed, and they glanced back at Singapore. “Do you think Sao Feng will answer the call now that it is clear he can be found wherever he hides?”

            Tia Dalma’s expression grew grim. “I cannot say. There is an evil on these seas that even the most staunch and bloodthirsty pirate have come to fear.”

            “We should hope someone will face it instead of fearing it, then,” said (Y/N).

            Tia Dalma looked at (Y/N) with a mysterious glint in her eye. “We should hope.”

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

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[ashsimpsalot]

Sushi in Tokyo (Kid X Sita X Reader)

Yes this is a poly fic, the tittle is based on

MY poly anthem

You entered the cracked up flat to find Kid watching the TV by himself, so deep in the Movie he didn't even realise you were home, a smile formed on your lips, fuck, even though you're hosting two fugitives in your home, the sight is too domestic to not melt your heart.

"I'm home," you announced, closing the door behind you. You turned around to see Kid with a big smile on his lips, standing and walking towards you, as excited as a puppy.

"jaanu, I missed you," he breathed before attaching hid lips to yours, hands wrapping around your waist. You hummed in the kiss.

Once you pulled back you stared into his eyes with a smile before looking at his hair, touching them.

"your curls feels fluffier than usual," you made a comment which earned a chuckle from Kid. He hummed and have your lips a final peck. "Sita put henna on my hair, she said she got bored being stuck in this house." he explained.

The mental image of your girl just running her hands into your man's curls makes you smile.

"where is she?" he lead you to sit you on the couch with him. "she's asleep," he whispered into your hair. The man's already clingy as it is, having you work much more than usual makes Kid crave having you in his arms even more.

You being the only face that is not all over the news for the murder of Rana, Queenie and Baba Shakti, you had decided, it's safer for the them to stay at home until it all die down, then all three of you could make a run to a different region of India, maybe even crossing borders. Anywhere people can't recognise them.

But until then you have to work to supply enough money, for three people, and it's not easy. It takes way much more time than you usually work.

You glance at the blanket that is on the sofa and frowned. "you're sleeping on the couch? Did you two fought?" you asked looking at Kid.

Kid barely loses his cool, Sita, being herself, is always clear on what she wants, what she likes and dislikes. For them to fight is very very rare.

"God, no. She kicked me out of the room because it was too hot, she said I'm a human heater," he said and lightly pouted. You let out a small laugh.

"she's right, you are a heater, and the heat of Mumbai isn't to play with. Plus your habit of hugging while you sleep isn't really helping your case." you teased, kissing his pout off. His eyebrows furrowed. "I can't even cuddle my girls without being rejected," he joked. You love it when Kid is comfortable. When it just the three of you, you get to see this side of him.

"baby?" a sleepy voice interrupted you two you turned around to see Sita with sleepy eyes standing in front of the room.

"hey, pretty girl, come here," you smiled at your girl, fuck even when she just woke up she's so incredibly beautiful. Sita sits herself between Kid and you, playfully pushing Kid away from you earning a small whine from Kid. He positione her so that she's sitting on his lap. On of her hand thrown over his shoulder she lazily kissed him

You smiled and softly placed your thumb on her chin, caressing before leading her in. She smiled and kissed you next.

"how was your nap?" Sita had thrown both her legs into your lap, you chuckled and brought her hand to kiss her palm.

"was good, without the heater bothering me." she joked, Kid tickled her side earning a yelp form her.

"Did I wake you up, sweetheart?" you asked softly, she just shook her head. Taking your hand in hers and begun her favourite pass time. Drawing random shapes on your palm.

"it's raining outside, it got cold," she replied, her fingers tracing letters in your palm. 'I <3 u` again and again and you smiled.

"is that why you came out? To be with the heater?" Kid asked, his arm thrown over your shoulder to pull you closer, you end up with your head on his chest while Sita's head on his neck.

Just what you need after a long day.

Sita didn't answer just let out a small laugh and yelp once again when he tickled her side. "Kidd!" she whined, now switching form drawing letters in your palm to kissing your fingers, almost even suckling on them.

Kid on the other hand has had his nose buried in your hair. Obviously sniffing the hell out of them.

"you two are awfully clingy today," you laughed into Kid's chest, eyes pinned on how pretty Sita's lips are kissing your fingers like that. You're glad that she's comfortable enough to let her oral fixation out and about. She used to say she's insecure about it and try not to do it in public.

"we missed you," Sita said softly before taking her head off of Kid's neck, tilting your chin and kissed your lips. You hummed into the kiss.

"hopefully this thing die down a little soon, I've got my contact for fake IDs already, even all the papers we need, just need this to die down and we can move on," Kid said and sighed. Sita though looked particularly interested. "what?" Kid asked confused. You just laughed because you know your girl all too well.

"you talking about all these matter makes her hot and bothered," you joked which made Sita blush. "hey!" she tried to defend herself before burying her face into Kid's neck, hiding from both of you.Kid chuckled and raised his hand to run it through her hair.

"hot and bothered hm?" he looked over to you with a smirk. You chucked. "such a tease," you laughed at him and kissed his lips, Sita turned her head again, pulling your hand towards her lips and kissed them again.

"i could fall asleep like this," you admitted, earning a him from Kid. A yawn escaped your lips. You looked over to Sita and chuckled when she's settled into placed your index finger into her mouth.

"I might fall asleep," you said again eyes now closed. Kid's hand that was resting on your arm softly move to pat you "sleep, I'll lift you later," you answer with a hum. You felt a kiss on your head and before you know it you're snoring like a baby.

[leeofthevoid]

Did we or Did we not?

Part Two of Not so Meet-Cute

Farleigh x Reader

a/n: I did think about adding SMUT. I really did. I just don't have the heart to make half-assed SMUT scenes that people would dislike anyways, and I kind of wanted a Fluffy Farleigh fic that still had his usual sass. I love you all so much!

Word Count: 3635

Warnings: Explicit content, Mature Content, Strong Language, 16+

Annabel and India never gave up on your dating life, but you sure have for months now. It's just the same damn thing over and over again, and it was stupid. The boys are all okay at first, but then they disappear from the area. Farleigh swoops in and asks you to make out again, and you just entertain him. It sucks having to bruise your ego every now and then. 

What's worse? Farleigh points that out whenever you two are on each other's nerves. 

"Annabel and India won't stop setting me up for dates." You passively say while lying on his bed, his head on your stomach. He had your shared cigarette in between his fingers while chuckling. "It's getting sadder and sadder by the minute. Are you that desperate?"

You smack him on the forehead, earning a pinch on your thigh. "Farleigh!"

"What? You did it first." You rolled your eyes and stole the cigarette, inhaling deeply to calm your nerves. "I mean, did you tell them you want to stop?" He asked, raising his head to make eye contact for a split second before settling on your stomach again. 

You puff out and sigh. "Well, that's the thing…I kind of don't want to stop? If you get to have sex, why can't I?"

"Because you don't want us to?" 

"And get all your diseases? Bitch, please." You hear a low chuckle from him, reminding you that he is still the same American bitch you dislike. "But be honest, why do you not want to take it up a notch? Am I just your designated boob sucker? Or am I not too English for you? Oh, oh, oh! Maybe you prefer ugly men." You scoff and push his head off, but he is pretty adamant about lying down on it. 

"Eugh, it's just weird, okay? You had your chance, but you blew it last year." You sat up and looked down at his stupid face. 

"And why can't I have a second?" He mockingly fluttered his eyelashes. "Because you dragged me to your bed just because one of your little toys can't come in this morning." He scrunched up his nose and groaned, "Touché." 

You push him off to stand and fix yourself in front of the mirror in his room, a burst of annoyance nagging at you when you see your reflection. "Farleigh! I said no fucking marks!" It was everywhere. On your neck, chest, back?! Not even a single place untouched by that little shit. 

Farleigh walks up to you with a grin, placing his chin on your shoulder, hands wrapped around your waist. "I know a place I could put them where no one can see." He hummed. You rolled your eyes and shoved him away from you. 

"You don't deserve it." He raised his eyebrows at you, leaning on the cabinet next to you and checking the time. "We have class, babes. Time for you to cover that up." He got a sweater from the cabinet, threw it at you, and fixed himself. 

Another day, another regret of wearing a strapless top you had to cover because of Farleigh. What a dreadful day for fashion. 

Walking down the hallway, India fell into step with you with another juicy gossip. She paused and looked at the sweater that clearly did not match the black pencil skirt and spiky boots you had going on. "Farleigh made you do his homework again?" You nodded and sighed. 

"Babes, this is a sign to sit next to that smart kid in our class. He could totally at least get homework out of your hands." She had this impressed look on her face and linked her arm around yours. "Imagine the power couple of the year!"

"No way. Do you not notice how he picks his nose?" Farleigh pointed that out when the guy walked past you a few weeks back. "Oh. Ew, alright, never mind." She scrunched up her face and started to talk about the other guy.

It was a few hours after classes, and India had this giddy smile. She separated from you when you went to class and quickly looked for you when you were dismissed. "India, hiding something from me?" She giggled and walked you to a table with Annabel, a boy beside her. Oh fuck.

"And he just threw it?"

"Yes! He had this whole speech about being able to afford another one!"

You and Farleigh laugh while sitting on the bed of another house party you were dragged to. "There's no way he could replace that. You know that kid got here because his mother was hot?"

Your eyes grew big, and a gasp came out of your mouth. "No way!"

"Yes, way. One of the board members had a huge crush on her, and when she begged him, he didn't think twice." You both laugh as you gossip about that guy you had a terrible 'date' with three weeks back.

"I still can't get over how he insulted your sweater and my ring. He went on and on about how cheap the fabric was, how it washed out my 'beauty,' and how my ring seemed to have a fake red diamond." He gasped, eyes in disbelief. He sat crossed leg with a pillow he clutched tightly when you told him more about the disastrous date. 

"Oh god, how dare he? That sweater probably costs more than his flat." He scoffs, clearly irritated by the dislike of his fashionable clothes. "I know right! You're horrible, but you at least have taste in clothes." You both burst out laughing, Farleigh shoving you while you tried to breathe.

"Fuuuuck! Annabel and India are such idiots. How could they not tell the fake Piaget he was flaunting." A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back on the headboard. "Trust me, I've been to worse. I just didn't appreciate the casual flaunting and the insulting." Farleigh raised an eyebrow and scooted next to you to sit back. "He told me, "What is that bloody junk doing on your delicate hand? Someone must really hate you for giving you a fake." Like, seriously?" 

Farleigh made an amused sound, and then a smirk followed. "The wicked witch and the fake ass bitch. Sounds meant to be." He smirked, earning him a ton of smacks and slaps. It ended up in you two play fighting, grunts, and victorious laughs tossed here and there. When you both settled, sprawled on the bed, heaving air, you got to thinking. "I need alcohol and a line or two…Maybe even a joint." Farleigh craned his neck to you and shuffled to stand up. "We're at a party for a reason; stand up, my dear! This party needs us!" You giggle and take the hand he outstretched to pull you up. 

You were totaled, and the amount of things you took was wild. And you sure as hell did suffer so severely the next day. You wake up in someone else's bed, your head pounding and your body sore. Fuck, this soreness was definitely not from partying too hard. "Fuck!" 

"Shut up." You shot your head to look at the space next to you, moving from under the covers to avoid the sun. You were too groggy to retaliate and can't even register your surroundings yet. It was just sore and not in a terrible way. Just the sore you get when you've spent the whole night having…Sex. 

Fuck! The panic set in, and you checked under the covers. Yup, that is your naked body under there. What a fucking idiot, how could this happen? There were a ton of drinks, but were you that shitfaced you couldn't even remember?

You wasted no time pulling the covers to wake the stranger, which might have made your blood run cold. 

"Ahhhhhh!" You couldn't stop screaming bloody murder when Farleigh shot up and looked around to check what the commotion was about. "What! What!" 

"You!" You clutched the cover to your chest and threw pillows at him. "Farleigh, what the fuck is happening!" 

He paused for a moment and then realized," Shit, how? When?" 

"I don't know!"

"Did we…"

"I'm fucking sore, so yeah, we definitely did." He groaned and quickly got up to run into the bathroom, snagging his clothes from the floor on the way. 

You huffed and pulled the covers up to look for your clothes, carefully picking them from the floor. Your legs were wobbly, but you could still wear your clothes again…Or what's left. There were weird tears on them, and you hated the party even more now. I guess you were glad to at least wake up in the familiar space of Farleigh's dorm room instead of the house where the party started. 

You sat down on the bed again when he came out. "So…"

"Do you remember anything, Farleigh?" He sat down on his study chair, creaking under his weight. "I don't remember much, to be honest. I just remembered playing many games with Felix, and we absolutely crushed that idiot's ego. I saw you making out with two guys at once, too. Uhm…” 

You choked, eyes widening, not believing the last thing you did. It may be best not to remember much. "I'm sore." He looked at you, and a slight smirk plastered his lips. 

"Well, I'm going to take that as a compliment." 

"Oh, shove off!" His face rested on the palm of his hand, looking as smug as ever. "As if you totally didn't imagine me as one of your gross professors, you weirdo."

"And you must have fantasized about being under one of Felix's blonde posh friends." Still triumphant as ever, this ass. "As if! Did you know Ellis didn't use deodorant until Felix gave him a spare? Or that Matthew doesn't bel-"

"Believe in condoms? Yes, I do. Little Matty wanted a piece of your man, but I refused." You can't help but crack a grin at his twisted form of acknowledgment that he was not an easy catch.

You wanted to look at him longer when his door suddenly opened, Felix crashing in, looking excited. "Holy fuck, Far. You guys were at it the whole night the fucking R.A. almost went in due to noise complaint." You sighed and sat up. "Felix, best to shut the door before telling your fun little story."

Felix chuckled and closed the door behind him, then sat on the floor, his body trying hard not to bombard you with gossip. "Holy shit, guys, one of the T.A.s went to the party, and the dude was a massive lightweight. Even dunked his head in the fountain on the way back just to wake him up." Farleigh barely listened, but you loved blackmail so much that you could not let it pass. 

"I'm actually kind of interested as to how we fucked?" Farleiigh pointed at you and himself, getting even more excited that he had to stand up. "Okay, okay. So basically, you two were just partying and playing some games with us when India told her," He pointed at you, "To chug like, what? A whole bottle of Vodka! By the way, I respect you so much for that." You chuckle at his boyish daftness that you can't even comment. 

"Then holy fuck! When we all got out of the party, Annabel and I were kind of doing our thing when Farleigh almost broke my door demanding for an extra condom!" Farleigh turned and massaged his temple. At the same time, he bit his lip in surprise. You could only cover your mouth to hide yours. "Holy shit! You guys went on for hours, and I had to switch locations because we could not get our thing going!" The annoying thing about Felix was that he was so passionate that even his arms could not stop moving to emphasize whatever he deemed interesting. 

"Stop, stop, stop," Farleigh said, eyes shut and index fingers plugged in his ears. He's right. This was a ton of information on a Sunday morning. 

"Felix, let's grab breakfast first. This is just a one-time thing; it won't happen again. Go and tell Annie we'll be at the café in a bit. "Alright, mate. See you later, wild ones." 

A beat of silence finally returned to the room when you and Farleigh looked at each other. "See you later." He nodded, and you went to who knows where to get fresh air. 

How did this happen? You guys promised to the one thing off-limits, and all crashed down in one night. Oh well, it won't happen again.

Right?

Farleigh was groaning beside you for the nth time while you gave him headache medication to ease up his pain. The class hasn't even started yet, but most of the students looked like they were about to pass out.

It was almost like the world hated you. You get your fix of sexual need, but the catch is you don't know how it went. The only thing you know is that you do it with Farleigh. Happens every two weeks. 

Compared to India and Annabel, who was passed out in last night's clothes, you at least had the decency to change into new ones that were more decent but still screamed 'Hot bitch’.

"Babes, this lecture is killing me." You shake your head as he grumbles more about how he probably did all the work last night that's why you were in less pain. Little shit. 

"Shut up, you little baby. We both know you're a whiney fuck that likes to be bottom." He shot you a glare and continued to silently nurse himself back to health. Silently whimpering while he basically put his whole body weight on you. 

It felt weird. It was like the night you two do it, you can't remember a thing. He doesn't either. In fact, that bitch sometimes blames you for 'touching his beautiful body' like a dramatic fucker he is. It happens every two weeks, and at this point, you don't mind anymore. 

From someone you hated so much, you two became closer friends than India ever was with you. Farleigh had all the gossip and snide remarks you never got from your girlfriends. You matched his energy and were very candor about the people he talks about. 

Class ended and you had to wake Farleigh up. "Farleigh, wake up." 

"No." He whined. 

"And if I pour water on your new velvet shirt?" 

His eyes shot up and sat back, glaring at you. "You'd never." 

"I would." A smug look on your face as you stood up and followed the wave of students walking out the class. 

Felix all texted you to meet up at the pub later that night. Farleigh decided to get ready together at your dorm, a decision you never had a chance to stop. 

"Hey, Farleigh, do you think I'm sometimes trying too hard to get a guy?" He looked at your reflection as he was fixing his hair. "Don't we all try too hard?" He used his hands to make his curls more prominent and kept. 

You creased your forehead, thinking too deeply enough to draw blood while biting down your bottom lip. "I mean…It just feels like I'm doing things to amuse you a lot. I feel like I gave up a long time ago."

He turned his head to look at you, stopping whatever he did and sighed. "Hey, not feeling like partying?" You nodded and sat on the bed, slumping your back. "No. I don't feel like doing anything much to be honest." 

Farleigh's eyes flashed recognition, and he sat next to you, placing his head on yours. "It's your time of the month, isn't it?" Confusion shot in your mind but you still nodded. How the fuck did he know? "...How?" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. '"You get all sentimental and overthink. I'd rather stay in too. If you're not there, what's the point of being in a boring party." You don't know what wave of emotion came over you, but you felt so nice that tears welled up in your eyes. 

In a twisted way, this idiot got to your heart in his own way. Without Felix or India to force you to be together in a room or a park date that they concocted just to play cupid. You liked seeing this side of him that was far from that asshole you met in first year. 

You appreciated him so much that you were afraid of the possibility that the asshole got his second chance of 'shooting his shot'. He was too good to be true, and you didn't want to lose that. He was too important just for your measly feelings to ruin what you had. 

Even after that whole ordeal, Farleigh became more attentive and he looked more beautiful in your eyes for some reason. He always makes time for you and was never shy to ask for your help in his essays and other things he knew you excelled at. 

The one time you knew you were disgustingly in love with him was when you were at your weakest during the year. When your grandfather died. 

He was so kind and so loving. He was the one who pushed you to still hangout with people so you won't die of loneliness in your dorm room. The one to lie next to you when you had to cry so much that you got sick at night. The one who took notes from your classes that you missed while you grieved. He was also kind enough to teach you about the rock tradition his family had, which helped you a ton. 

He was just so imperfectly perfect. 

When you finally got better, finished finals, and was in the time of the term to get ready for summer break, you had the courage to confess.

He lounged on your bed with that bitchy bored expression of his as you paced the room back and forth. "Baby, stop doing that and just tell me what's up. You're making me fucking dizzy, love." You stopped and rolled your eyes before sitting at the edge of the bed beside him. 

"Farleigh, I have to tell you something. It's really important that you don't fucking make fun of me or else I will kill your whole family and leave the country afterwards." He crossed his arms over his chest and breathed out. "Go on then, I'm listening."

You paused and took out a small bottle of tequila, downing it quickly to gain some liquid courage that you badly needed. "Woah morning drinks already." You glared at him as he stuck his tongue out at you. 

"So! Farleigh Start. You shitty bitch that replaced me with another person while we were on a date last year. The idiot that asks me to make-out with him that I can't say no because you're undeniably good. The asshole that I fight with all the time."

"Wow, it's like a proclamation of hate." You covered your hand on his running mouth while clearing your throat. "Farleigh…" He rolled his eyes and sat back. You removed your hand and slowly fidgeted with your sheets. 

"Farleigh, I think I like you." 

You ran all scenarios in your head for what reaction you will get but probably missed this one. He scoffed. The type of scoff that makes you think he knows for a long time now.

"Fucking finally." You gave him a confused look, he simply rolled his eyes keeping up with the bitchy act. 

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? You know you're such an oblivious prick sometimes it hurts my head." You gave him a look while he went on, "Um…What the fuck?"

"Babes, everything I did for you. It was my shot to try and redeem myself for a second chance. The moment you called me out in that bathroom I realized what I lost." You smirked, "My beautiful face and striking personality?" 

"That and… You're you. You don't try too hard. I did! I tried so fucking hard to actually get you to talk to me more. And you know what's worse? Kissing you makes it hard to kiss other people!"

You rolled your eyes yet again because it sounded way too condescending for someone who wants you to like them. Idiot. 

"No, listen. You don't get it. Kissing you felt like something that wasn't lust or boredom. You knew how to kiss well and I was bewitched!" 

"Exaggerating won't help your case after downplaying my confession." You crossed your leg over the other to add a bit more sass in your words. 

"I like you too, Y/N. I like you so much that I stopped doing my American slut façade and just wanted to be there for you. Unlike Felix and my supposed family, I felt like I was seen for who I was." 

It was touching and honest. You saw his eyes getting glossier while emphasizing his own twisted confession. You held his hand and kissed it. "You know. I'm not a jealous person, so I probably missed the part where you ask for forgiveness for doing the tango with other people." 

"How could I when I do it with a ninety-year-old by soul bitch who had sex with me multiple times when we were black-out drunk." You smiled and pinched his cheeks hard. 

"I hate you, Farleigh." 

"I love you too." He said with a genuine smile. 

You looked into his eyes and sighed. This asshole really made you do all that just to make you realize he liked you. What a prick. 

But he's your prick now.

a/n: What if Farleigh Racer AU next?

[osamusbigtits]

tananoya inspired by this art that immediately got my brain thinking.

~

nishinoya stares at the letter he wrote. a letter he might give to tanaka. a letter that could change everything.

he's spent too much time on it. many discarded, crumpled up sheets of paper surround him. he taps his eraser against his desk.

nishinoya frowns.

this is so unlike him. he doesn't know how to deal with these nerves that eat at his chest. he doesn't understand how he can be so flustered when he flirts with girls any chance he gets.

so why does it feel so different with tanaka?

nishinoya folds up the letter and places it in an envelope before he can crunch it up and throw it away. it's his best one yet. clear and concise.

he's not good with words. at all. and tanaka is aware, even teases him about it. but nishinoya wants this to be good. he wants it to make sense, no hidden meanings. he wants to have tanaka read it and understand him.

he seals it and write tanaka's name on it. he slips it into his bag and throws himself into bed.

nishinoya's chest aches. he wants to rid himself of this ache. but he doesn't know if tanaka feels the same way.

~

tanaka laughs at a dumb joke nishinoya made as he opens his locker. nishinoya's heart flutters between the laugh and the sight of that letter he wrote. the one that confesses everything. the one that could ruin everything.

"oh. uh. I almost forgot. I was gonna meet up with suga before practice. I should head out," nishinoya says quickly. he takes a few steps back when tanaka gives him a questioning look.

"you're not failing again, are you? we really need our libero." tanaka's concern makes nishinoya's heart sink.

"nah. it'll be fine. I'll tell you more later." nishinoya turns and jogs away before tanaka can further question him.

his heart pounds in his chest as he walks to the gym, a few other teammates filing in. hinata and kageyama are already on the court, arguing with each other. nishinoya would laugh if it didn't feel like he needed open heart surgery.

asahi and sugawara sit next to each other in the corner of the gym. nishinoya rushes over to them and falls to his knees. "I need you to let me go home. tell daichi I don't feel good. whatever it takes. please, just let me have this mercy for once," nishinoya begs.

sugawara raises an eyebrow. "did you annoy kiyoko one too many times today? you deserve whatever comes from that."

but asahi has a knowing look in his eyes. nishinoya silently pleads to asahi, eyes wide and pout evident.

asahi sighs. "you have to face it, noya."

nishinoya groans and dramatically falls back.

"do I need to call the police?" sugawara asks.

asahi laughs. "no. noya just has a crush. not on kiyoko."

sugawara hums in understanding. nishinoya wants to crawl into a hole. all the way to the center of the earth.

nishinoya doesn't see tanaka walk in, the letter crushed in one hand and his cheeks stained bright red.

asahi glances behind nishinoya. "I guess you are going to face it."

nishinoya whips his head around so fast, it makes s joint in his neck pop. he and tanaka make eye contact.

nishinoya wants to run away. so far and so fast. maybe he'll change his name and move to a different country. he's heard that india isn't so bad. maybe he could go to korea.

"can we talk?" tanaka asks.

his heart pounds against his ribs as he nods.

here it comes, he thinks as he follows tanaka out of the gym. here's the end. the rejection, right? because nishinoya hadn't even bothered to ask if tanaka was into boys.

"I'm sorry," nishinoya blurts as soon as they step outside. "I'm sorry. we can just pretend this never happened, yeah?" he laughs nervously. "we can just rip that up. and we go back to how we used to be. normal noya and tanaka-"

"I don't want things to be how we used to be," tanaka says. nishinoya's heart sinks. "I want..." tanaka squeezes his eyes shut. "I like you, too!"

the world stops.

no really, it seems to freeze in time. nishinoya stops feeling the wind, stops hearing voices and animals and the sounds of cars. everything pauses as nishinoya stares at his best friend in disbelief.

"you do?"

tanaka swallows. "I do."

nishinoya can't stop the nervous laugh that bubbles out of his chest. "I wasn't expecting that."

luckily, tanaka laughs as well. "you were acting so weird all day, I thought you were gonna tell me you were moving or something. I'm just glad its this not something horrible."

nishinoya clenches his fists together before releasing them. "so what now?"

tanaka hesitates. "well, we date, right?"

nishinoya's face heats up. "y-yeah."

tanka nods. "yeah. right. uh. um, yeah."

they stare at each other.

"let's go to practice and then we can talk more," nishinoya suggests.

tanaka relaxes. "oh. yeah. that sounds perfect."

nishinoya and tanaka walk into the gym with smiles plastered to their faces.

daichi asks if there's a prank he has to be worried about.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

Part 2 of "The Womb Requires Us to Be Non-Violent" !

Common Self-Inflicted Violent Acts in the Female Line

Working oneself to exhaustion, particularly if you are not at the survival level or at risk of being homeless/houseless if you do 2 less shows or work 2 less shifts, say "no" to a new project or new client, don't work extra hours, don't work at night, don't give all your life force to the company you work for, change your mind and say "no I can't go today"....etc. Holding an underlying fear of being disliked or disappointing people or power-hungry, money-hungry, overly-ambitious, or so overly-masculine and achievement-focused that you would be willing to hurt your body in the process then try to patch yourself up later....

Putting everyone and everything first before the wellness of your body, trying to do it all, mommy guilt when taking care of self, socially distracted in ways that provide less time for self-care, attempting to meet impossible deadlines....

Too much blue light e: scrolling social media, watching tv, reading google, or on your phone and computer in any other way right before bed time ....Not going to bed when tired and staying up late for no reason...not properly preparing one's body for deep rest...

Not building a relationship with one's body, including most intimate parts like pussy, breasts, deep throat area, belly/womb, hips, ass, scalp, pelvis, etc. Forgoing self-curiosity and self intimacy for a lover or relationship...

Limerence: Obsessing over someone who is not thinking about you or hasn't shown they care for you--using your life force to text that fool who hasn't called you back from your last text, settling for less in your relationships...

Not stretching or taking care of your body in other deeper ways and only focused on the superficial, what you look like on the outside, and not on how your body feels. Ignoring your body warnings....

Allowing stress and 'fight or flight' (the news, social media, celebrity culture....) into your brain chemistry (subconscious) and physiology first thing in the morning after you wake up, reaching for your phone rather than relaxing peaceful acts like music, meditation, chanting, humming, singing, stretching, lovemaking, going on a morning walk, , and the like....having a morning routine is helpful....

India Ame'ye, Author

[eastwindmlk]

For day 16 of @jilytoberfest we have an open ended piece (@siriuslychessi said it would be fine) Prompt: 🎶“My words are my faith, to hell with our good name”🎶 - Hum Hallelujah by Fall Out Boy. Word count: 748

James Potter had a tendency to get himself into situations that people believed only happened in films. Some people, particularly a handful of his colleagues, had started calling him ‘Big Fish’ and would make faces when he brought up stories that others simply found entertaining.

Like how he accidentally wandered onto the set of a TV commercial and replaced the poor kid not nailing his lines. Or, when he and his mates had started an actual food fight in the school cafeteria. To this day he swore they had not meant to start anything, they were just faffing about when a spoonful of apple sauce hit Benjy Fenwick, which made Gideon laugh and Fabian decided to add a smear of spag bol to his twin’s crisp uniform shirt.

It all escalated from there. James still firmly believed that he didn’t start it and the twins should have helped clean after, but that injustice was something he learned to live with.

The same Benjy who was there throughout medical school and the semester he brought a skeleton to class to not have to sit next to anyone. Bone-ita even had a picture ID and PPE said nothing when the haughty senior residents started the stupid nickname.

Then when James signed up for Doctors without Borders, Benjy was right there flying off to India with him where they were stationed at the same clinic. it was then that James learned that Benjy was more than happy to say nothing when their colleagues started calling him 'Big Fish'.

Around this time, it was that James started to believe that he might actually be the one who started it all.

Well, he supposed that Benjy would have a reason to revive it once more after he told them about this particular one. Which was an odd thought to have while running full tilt through Heathrow Airport trying to catch the love of his life before she left for god knows how long.

James supposed he was lucky he had only arrived home yesterday, after five long years, the layout of the airport still fresh in his mind.

He might need to leave out the fact that three security officers were lagging behind him while he jumped over the metal fences forming the queues at the gate. He could still see her auburn braid near the front, fumbling for her ticket as he shouted for her.

“Lily!” His voice is hoarse from the exertion, his hands grip the rapidly warming metal bar that separates him from the ticket desk at the gate. The braid whips around, emerald eyes wide with shock meet his. “Lily, please don’t go,” he pleads and slips under the final obstacle while she looks at him, horrified.

Lily approaches him with a cautious smile. “James, what on earth are you doing here?” she hisses at him, her face contorting into something unreadable for a moment before she schools her features into a calm mask.

“Don’t go,” he repeats stubbornly, his hands darting out to take hers. “Marry me instead.” At this the mask slips and he can see the pain flash through her eyes while she wrenches back her hand. “Please,” he pleads once more.

She glances over her shoulder at the passengers still waiting to board, the flight attendant's sideways glances. “James, I can’t. You’re too late,” she stammers and covers the grimace on her lips with her hand. “I-I-I need to go. I’m getting married in Paris tomorrow, James.”

"You hate Paris,"

"I love France."

"Paris isn't France." His eyebrows knit together, eyes still burning into hers. “Don’t go.” The words are now barely a whisper. “I love you, Evans. I know I’ve been gone for a bit. I… Work got in the way but… You said you would wait for me,” he said, too hurt to accuse her of anything.

“And I did,” Lily replies, the pain seeping into her voice now. “I waited for three years but you never came back to me, James. I…”

“I am here now.”

"I can’t. I won’t call this off. Not even for you.” She sighs, her hand brushing his shoulder before it dropped to her side once more. “I’m sorry.” The words are whispered against his cheek before she vanishes with only the lingering kiss and one last look over her shoulder.

Off to marry another man. Suddenly, James cannot find it in himself to care much if they believe him when he tells his colleagues this story.

[fishnets-fingers]

blossoms, big changes & blanket forts

a/n - @harry-on-broadway's short 'n sweet fic challenge inspired me to write a burb from the six months universe. this takes place in the future and hints at storyline(s) for future parts. it's been a while since i'd written anything, so i hope this turned out okay. word count: 2.5k (not proofread) happy reading :)

…

Every Saturday Harry’s alarm blares at five in the morning and every single Saturday he swiftly silences it before it disturbs the other occupant snoozing next to him. This morning was no different. He quietly slips out the bed and heads to the bathroom to change into his running gear. 

A dopey smile blooms across his face at the sight in front of him. A foot peeking out the sheet, a hand haphazardly dangling over the side of the bed, and a shock of dark hair obstructing her face. 

He smooths the raven locks away from her face and leans down to kiss her sleep warm cheek. A quiet grunt makes him chuckle. 

“What ungodly hour is it?” Layla asks, eyes still closed. 

“It’s the AM,” he answers diplomatically. 

She mumbles something incoherently, turning over on her stomach, face burying into the pillow. He knows better than to ask her to clarify and jolt her from the pull of slumber. He kisses the crown of her head, pulling the bed sheet in place. 

And off he goes, running down the same circuit he takes every Saturday. He enjoys this time where their neighbourhood is slowly setting up for the day - the scratches of produce filled pallets being hauled into the restaurants, the beeps of trucks pulling into the warehouses of the supermarkets, the hum of baristas as they begin to ready their spaces, and the soft grunts of runners they start with their stretches. 

He relishes this routine; the calm after five days of scrambling around with this Masters thesis, hours in the lab, typing away on his computer into the night. Saturday mornings were his reset. The hour and a half he spends running with no distractions is just what he needs to set the tone for his weekend. The same sights, smells, and sounds.  This Saturday however he spots a moving truck along with a couple carrying boxes into the lobby of a highrise apartment and is immediately transported to a wintery evening five months ago. He was lugging bags of groceries from the car when his phone chimed. Once. Twice. Thrice. Followed by a call from Layla all the way from Chennai.

“Hi bab-” He starts before getting interrupted. 

“You are speaking to the new assistant professor of San Diego State! Well not really. I still haven’t signed but I just got the email.”

“No fucking way! Really?”

“Really! I read the email three times to make sure my brain wasn’t playing tricks on me. I did just wake up, so there’s a big possibility that I’m dreaming.”

“Congratulations, Layla.”

“Aww, thanks,” she blew out a breath. “You know what this means, right?”

“No more long distance,” he smiled into the microphone.

“Can’t wait. I love you.”

“I love you too, Lails.” 

“Say it again,” she said, and he can picture her lips pulling up at the corners.

“I bloody love you, sweet girl.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that,” she added quietly.

He felt her conflicting feelings of anger and longing miles away. She did not want to go to India after what happened during their last visit. After weeks of trying, her cousins convinced her that she was long overdue for a sleepover, pointing out that a full time job would only make flying over more complicated. “Chennai will make me feel at home, my house is just a building,” she’d insisted but Harry had seen the hurt etched on her face on their video call from she hotel she checked into. She had forgone the invite from her relatives to stay at theirs, not wanting cause any conflicts between them and her parents. He’d wanted to go with her but his schedule wouldn’t allow him and which was convenient for her with wanting him far away from her mother. “Have you told your folks? Do you want to?” He’d asked after a pregnant pause.

She sighed. “Not my parents. I called my grandparents. They were overjoyed, obviously. They wanted to meet me for lunch but I told them I’m not coming home. So, I’m meeting them at the restaurant. I explicitly told them that I would leave if Amma and Appa (Mum and Dad) showed up.

“Anyway," she said after a while, "I think my grandparents are going to give me a fat stack of cash, like they did when I got into the PhD program.” She forced a chuckle, signaling that she was done talking about it.

So he changed the topic, “when do you have to get back to them?”

“They haven’t specified anything but sooner the better right. I’ll respond by tomorrow evening” she yawned. “I'm heading over to Chitti's (aunt - mother’s younger sister) for dinner. All the cousins are attending Carom night. I’ll ask her to help me go through the contract before I sign. I’ll have to tell them that I’ll only be coming to the US next week. I think I want to negotiate my salary a little or get more PTOs. I don't want to pass it up though. They are willing to sponsor my visa and I don't have any more offers to be in the same city, so…” She prattled on. 

He’s giddy at the thought of not having to resort to scheduling visits when their calendars permit them to. To not have their coursework making them unavailable during important moments. To not have to fit their belongings into a small cabin bag and rush to the gate to catch a flight to each other a few states away. To not have to tiptoe around Layla’s housemates, who barely tolerated each other. To not have to resort to FaceTimes when they wanted to see each other. To not be next to each other - when all they wanted was to wrap the their arms around the other - to help them wind down from an exhausting day. 

“Har,” her voice snapped him out of his reverie. “Are you paying attention?”

“Yeah yeah, contracts.”

“Not even close. I was talking about apartment hunting.”

“Why would you look for apartments?” His brows knitted together. 

“I’ll need a place to live in, won’t I?” 

“You already have a place to live in.”

“No, I don’t. What are you-,” her voice cuts off as she drew in a sharp breath in realisation. “Are you- Would you like for me to- Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I’m almost twenty six. You’re twenty seven. We’ve been together for two years now. I’m so in love with you, Layla Sathish. Never stopped for a second since I first laid eyes on you in your Uncle’s house in Apex. Never stopped in the two years we were apart. And I don’t want to waste another second. I want us together. I want to go to bed with you next to me. Kiss you goodbye when we both leave for university. I want to complain about your makeup and skincare taking up all the space in the bathroom cabinet. I want to buy you flowers when I come back home after a run. I want your paints and brushes scattered on the dining table. I want to make space in my closet for your clothes. I want your fingerprints smeared on my laptop screen. Move in with me.” 

It didn’t skip past her that he wasn’t asking her but telling her. “I mean I do have the spare key to your loft. Might as well put it to good use,” she teased. 

He laughed. “Exactly! You can be the breadwinner of the house and I can rest easy as a kept man and work on my thesis.”

She giggled. “I love it!”

Three weeks later, they were moving her belongings into the loft. He had to pinch himself every few hours to remind himself that he had unfettered access to the woman he loved. But living together posed a few adjustments, like the time she used his coffee grinder to make gunpowder from scratch and he was about ready to rip all his hair off telling her about cross-contamination of the flavour. Living together spotlighted their different cleaning ethos - he lets the mess accumulate and then do a deep clean but soon found out that Layla could not function when things piled up. The different towels and rags of Layla’s system he needed to keep track of: the ‘nice one’ for drying the dishes, the ‘yucky one’ for cleaning the kitchen countertops, the ‘microfiber’ for dusting that needed to be dampened, and the ‘soft one’ for electronic screens. They’d argued about finances and after weeks - much to Layla’s chagrin -  they’d settled on a compromise: Layla would take care of the utilities and date nights and Harry would pay for rent, and groceries. She put her foot down about being able to pay for the two of them on their future trips to India and he agreed with the condition that all other trips would be taken care of by him. Their grocery trips were different now, Layla was so focused on giving herself a spending limit since she wasn’t paying for it. This meant standing in the middle of the aisle and calculating down to the gram to figure out what brand gave her the best bang for her buck - whereas Harry just pulled things off the shelf that caught his eye. But all of their spats and differences melt away when he sees her smile up at him, from whatever she was doing, as he walked through the door after the end of the day. 

In the home stretch he slows down and walks into the florist. It was early in the day to have the pick of the freshest of flowers straight from the delivery truck. Every single week he would pick out random bunches - today it was different coloured sweet peas and tulips. He’d wake her up with the flowers held behind his back where she’d blink up at him with sleep laden eyes and gasp when he’d present them to her. She gasped every Saturday morning, even if it had become a ritual by now - watching her put together an impressive floral arrangement while he’d make breakfast for them.

He’s surprised when he keys into the loft, usually he’s met with the quiet hum of appliances, today peals of laughter bounce off the walls of the entryway. He smiles toeing off his shoes as he spots two sets of feet - one tiny and one large - sticking out. Their couch pushed back towards the wall and the four dining chairs stood in its place acting as pillars on either side with a fuzzy throw draped over the backs of the chair, cocooning the two. 

He tiptoes slowly towards their makeshift fort to find the two sprawled on a quilt on their tummies. Layla in her power rangers pyjamas, hair haphazardly thrown in a bun, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes, her head propped on her elbows, and a curly headed girl in a wrinkled nightgown giggling with her as she points at the book that’s propped against the a cushion. Vasanth and Abi had dropped Laya off with them for the fourth of July weekend and had driven up to Temecula Valley for their long overdue wedding anniversary getaway. She was a deadly combination of her parents, self-willed and mischievous.

“Your Tamil teacher has her work cut out for her,” Layla howls.

“Miss. Muga,” the four year old replies. 

“Who?”

“Miss. Muga. She’s my Tamil teacher.”

“You're going to be a pain in Miss. Muga’s bum,” Layla breaks into giggles.

Her little body twists around, eyes widening in alarm, hands coming to cover her open mouth. “You said bum!” She sputters into laughter. 

“Excuse me, ladies, where was my invite?” Harry asks, crouching down and sticking his head into the opening, making sure the flowers were concealed behind his back.

“Harry!” The girl screams in delight, crawling haphazardly towards him. 

“Someone decided to wake up at the crack of dawn with a determination to build a fort and finish her Tamil homework in it,” Layla sighs.

Harry gives their guest a sympathetic smile. “You did promise her a blanket fort last night, baby. It’s a miracle that she slept this long, reckon she might be in Eastern time.”

“What do you have?” Laya asks, pointing at the tulip sprig that peeked out from the side.

“It’s a gift,” he tells her, shuffling into their cosy cocoon. “Can you cover Akka’s (older sister) eyes and close eyes?” He whispers loudly.

With a nod she clambers onto Layla’s back, using her hands to shield Layla’s view while she scrunches her eyes shut. A collective gasp echoes when he tells them to open their eyes, presenting them with his colourful selection of the day. Harry's body permeates with warmth from the radiant smiles coming from the two; the type of light that could rival the sun’s. The warmth makes him smile, feeling content at the sight in front of him, chuffed at the approval of his floral pick, and the singe of tranquillity from being inside the fort.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Layla asks, bringing the bouquet to her nose. “Mmm…Smells good too.”

“Mmmm,” Laya copies her cousin, burying her nose and nodding in agreement. “For me?” She looks up at Harry. 

“For the two of you,” he replies, inching closer to them. He twists a purple bloom and tucks it behind Laya’s ear. “A sweet pea for my sweet pea.” He declares, chuckling at the way Laya cheeks tinge with pink and the way she blinks up at him with a shy smile.

“Manners, Laya. What do you say?” Layla prompts.

“Thank you,” she says in a singsong voice, reaching over Layla's head to kiss his cheek.

“You’re welcome, love.” He dramatically clears his throat before picking up a yellow tulip and swishes it around before tapping his girlfriend's nose with the bulb. “And a tulip for my tulip.”

“Thanks. Laya, do you want to help me arrange them in the vase? We can do that while Harry makes us pancakes, okay?”

The little girl nods, clambering off her sister and barrels in the direction of the kitchen, remembering the empty vase she’d seen on the kitchen counter. “I guess homework’s not a priority anymore,” Layla mumbles.

She sits up to follow her cousin before she wreaks havoc but Harry firmly holds her in place with a pointed look. “What?”

“Manners, Layla,” he echoes her statement from earlier. 

“I thanked you.”

“Not properly.”

“Huh?”

“Guess you could learn a thing or two from Laya. No thank you is complete without a kiss.”

“Since when?” She smirks.

“Did you not get the memo from the blanket fort etiquette committee?” He teases with a toothy grin.

She rolls her eyes, rocking up on her knees to kiss his cheek. “Happy?”

“Very.” He sears his mouth on her, tongue languidly sweeping her bottom lip, teasing her with a promise of what’s to come. When they pull away, she’s breathless, looking up at him with her tired eyes. And he cannot resist pulling her back in for another, this time his fingers curl around the back of her head, pulling her closer than before. It’s hurried - teeth clanging, noses knocking, tongues caressing, breaths stuttering - never faltering in passion. 

“Layla Akka!”

“I’ve been summoned," Layla murmurs against his swollen lips. “Thank you for this,” she picks up the bouquet from her lap and brings it close to her chest. “And all the others.” She presses a quick peck on his lips and they make their out the fort and towards the kitchen.

.....

MASTERPOST (if you wanna read more of Layla and Harry)

[solosikoasgf]

you know my body is yours , roman reigns (nsfw)

pairing: roman reigns x oc (afab / black reader) synopsis: vacations are rare, and so you make the most of the sun, the sand, and undivided time with each other. themes: it's nasty, that's all ik. oral (f receiving), light choking, a little dominance. word count: roughly 2.5k author's notes: i am not a smut writer so y'all need to be nice. i just wanted to write about roman being sweet on vacation before i go back to hating him this week. minors dni! taglist: @rez-luvs-hook — @southerngirl41 — @harmshake — @christinabae — @dreamsinfocus — @thesamoanqueen — @thewarlordsworld — @cyberdejos2 — let me know if you want to be added! song recommendations: no limit by tank ft alex isley, it's yours by destin conrad, yours by dixson ft india shawn

the sun is still high in the sky, despite the time ticking closer to evening hours. the two of them had spent all day there, in the rays of the sun, in the waves of the surf, and laying in the sand. a vacation for roman was rare, and jade didn't find herself entitled to his time - in fact, she had encouraged him to take the time to rest and get family affairs in order, or do whatever it was that would make him feel relaxed.

so she was utterly shocked when he showed up with a suitcase for her to pack up, and a flight for them to catch. so much so that he had to basically pack the bag for her just to usher her out so they could make the flight on time, with gentle assurances that if she needed more clothes, she could use his credit card at any store she desired once they reached their destination.

and so the past three days had been filled with nothing but bliss - his undivided attention.

day one spent lounging around their resort, a large suite with a swim up pool, so they didn't find the need to really go anywhere but just rest, enjoying each other's company. day two had been spent out, walking in town, eating everything. day three was for excursions - zip lining, hiking, boat rides, biking. all of the little sweet things that made memories. and jade couldn't help but ooh and ahh at everything, it had been a number of years since she had a vacation, so focused on her career and taking care of her parents as they got older in age.

but today was for the beach, and the beach only. they arrived early in the day, making their spot under a shady palm that was out of the way - so no matter how many people packed the beach, they were sure nobody would venture out where they were.

she watched now as roman made his way back to her, hair wet from the ocean, a tan settled into his skin, taking it to a tawny bronze that accentuated the freckles that hid in his face, to his chest and back. his smile is wide and hands are full with two plastic bowls full of fruit from the vendor who had just passed, and jade smiles, shielding her eyes and setting her book aside to make room for him on their array of beach towels.

"for me?" she beams, faking shock and astonishment as she takes the bowl from him and he eases down across from her. his shorts ride up on his thighs, and he spreads his legs, opening his arms and gesturing her forward. he sighs in contentment when she's face to face with him, her legs on top of his and behind his torso.

"you havin' a good time, babygirl?" he watches her ditch the fork with a smile, as she picks up a chunk of mango with her fingers and bites into it, the juice running down her hand and into her arm.

"mhmm." jade hums, feeding him the other half, which he accepts happily, letting his lips wrap around her fingers to suck the lingering juice off. her eyebrows shoot up a bit, but she gives him a knowing smile and goes back to picking fruit from the bowl. "best baecation ever. but you really didn't have to - like we could have stayed stateside."

he snorts. "best vacations are always out of the country. don't think i didn't see how stressed you've been recently. you're not as good at hiding it as you think you are." he taps her left temple with two fingers as admonishment, and she apologizes with the offering of a piece of kiwi, that he accepts.

"i didn't wanna bother you. you're always on the road or in meetings - the last thing you need to hear on our calls is about why deidre pissed me off again."

"nothing about you bothers me. i'm your man, it's my job to be here for you, and to take those burdens off you. i ain't say nothing, but don't do it again." he warns, letting his hands settle on her thighs, warmed from the sun. "i'm not playin' either, jade."

she rolls her eyes, but he catches her face with his hand, amused. "i'm not playin." he repeats, voice a little lower. she nods quietly, and he picks a strawberry out of her bowl, pressing it to her lips. and when she bites down and juice runs down the sides of her lips, he quickly moves forward to press his lips on hers, hand grabbing at the back of her neck to pull her closer while their lips move against each other's.

she can taste the saltwater on his lips and tongue when he deepens their kiss, and ocean water drips onto her chest from his hair, cold. this moment is one she wishes she could bottle up and live in forever.

jade sighs in contentment, using the heels of her feet to dig into the towel to scoot herself just a bit closer, hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. she can feel his length start to poke at her thigh, and she pulls back, holding his face in her hands with a smile - but his eyes are dark, and his hands have tight grip of her thighs. "joe," she warns.

"let's head back," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to hers.

"it's still early."

"i want to take some of that stress off you."

they barely make it in and out of the shower in one piece, with roman almost engulfing jade to the point where her mind can barely think. from the second they landed back in their room, his hands and lips made quick work of taking her over the edge - the push and pull of him teasing and coaxing, but never quite giving into her.

he had clearly meant it - there wouldn't be room for stress in her mind, because all she could think of was how much she wanted to feel him stretch her out, take her over the limit.

her back hits the bed, black locs fanning out, cowrie shells attached to the ends tingling together in a quiet song. roman's eyes drink her in, steam still rolling off his body from the shower. from her round eyes and soft features, to round supple breasts that dips into a soft midsection. his hands palm her thighs, kneading with added pressure. they roam up to her stomach, fingering the glittering waist beads stacked on her waist. "i ever tell you how sexy these are?"

she breathes hard, but still smiles, her hand sliding down on top of his. "i put on extra, just for you. i know you like to see 'em when you hit backstrokes. i even took the excess," she pauses, raising her right leg a little, revealing beads on her ankle, "and made little anklets. they'll look so good...on your shoulders."

he groans, leaning forward to take her breast into his mouth, making her gasp, back coming up off the mattress. his hand slide under her thigh, and her breaths come shallow when his tongue circles around her nipples, suckling gently, and then gradually growing rougher, while his other hand twisted her other nipple between skilled fingers. "fuck." she whispers harshly, pushing her hands down on his shoulders.

his lips find her neck next, and she can hear him breathing hard, leaving harsh open mouthed kisses, biting down near her ears enough to make her yelp, and then covering the area with kisses and swipes of his tongue, all the while his hand slips down her thighs, gently coaxing them apart, dancing up the warm and already sticky inner thigh, thumb pressing to her clit to start a slow rotation of circles.

it's deliberate, and it's agonizing. she moves her hips in time to his fingers, desperately trying to up the pace, when she hears him chuckle, low. "hold on a lil longer." he assures, slipping two fingers in deep. the addition makes her groan, inhaling hard.

with every quick and deliberate stroke, his fingers become slicker in her arousal, and her moans scale up in octave, grasping onto his wrist for some semblance of control. but the second he feels her hand, he pulls away, in smooth motion lowering himself between her thighs. he squeezes hard. "keep your eyes on me."

jade shifts up on her elbows, pushing locs out of her face to lock eyes with his - both of them silent in the heavy tension of the moment, while he lowers himself down, steady eyes when he gently attaches himself to her clit, suckling softly with a low groan. she instinctively grabs at the sheets, attempting to keep her eyes from closing and letting her back hit the mattress once again.

the warmth of his mouth and tongue running over her clit and lips are almost unbearable, and it doesn't take long before her breathing is labored and soft breaths become soft moans that gradually get louder - all the while he maintains eye contact. he grips harder on her thigh, sucks with more aggression, and the small amount of composure she had been holding falls.

"oooh-" she breathes, finally collapsing back onto the pillows, hands reaching to tangle themselves in his hair while her back arches. he doesn't stop - running the flat of his tongue up her slit, collecting the wetness that had accumulated from his teasing, coming back up to suck on her clit. he pushes her thighs up towards her chest, rising slightly to his knees to push his face into her sex.

for roman, there are no more thoughts to be had. her body at his disposal, the way she dripped and moaned for him, the way her body responded so easily at his touch, at his voice, was enough. and he wanted to see her crumble to nothing - to pleasure her until she was spent and her voice was hoarse. he moans into it, pushing his tongue in an area right under her clit - her grip on his hair tightens, and she pushes his head further in, grinding her hips against his face with gradual urgency.

"fuck. joe, i'm -" gasps for breath, "i don't think i can hold it-" there's a build in her lower abdomen, and her grinding becomes more frantic, hands holding her own thighs up to her chest to give him more room to flick her clit.

he doesn't bother to answer, pushing her legs further back, using a hand to grasp onto hers for encouragement.

let go. let me have it. let me taste it.

"oh my god, i'm cum-" a moan fills the rest of her sentence, her thighs shaking around his face. a build and a release of pleasure streams through her body, one hand clamped onto his, another gripping onto strands of his hair, coming down from her high with deep breaths and smiles.

he finally relents, sitting up on his knees, mouth and beard wet, webs of her arousal dotting various spots between dark brown and gray streaks of hair. roman watches her catch her breath, gently rubbing circles into her sides, hovering over her to capture her lips with his own. her arms circle his shoulders and pull him closer, her tongue slipping past his lips in a way that makes him a little crazy, hand gripping her neck. his dick is hard and rubbing against the wetness of her pussy, and he needs to feel her, be encompassed by her warmth when her legs pull him in deep.

"you good, baby?" brown eyes search hers in a moment of softness.

"yeah, i'm good." she brushes hair out of his face, twirling a piece around her finger.

"we can stop," he murmurs as her fingers trace over his face, and he leaves faint kisses on her fingers when they pass by his lips and into his beard.

she doesn't respond, pulling him in for a kiss, reaching down to guide his dick into her warmth, both exchanging a breath in a kiss. roman's teeth grit down, and the soft moment is gone - they lock eyes with brief understanding, and she relents.

and he takes over.

roman leans back, guiding her legs over his shoulders, pressing kisses on the insides of her thighs, knees, calves, arches of her foot, running his fingers across the glittering beads that adorn her ankles as he settles them on his shoulders. he leans over her, forearms on either side of her head, and starts to give slow but hard strokes. each one slow on the out, but pushing in quickly with enough force to make her cry out.

he relishes in her moans, burying his face into her neck and using his hands to hold her thighs open, bending her all the way back so he had full control of her pleasure as he picked up his pace, their skin slapping together with the sound of her moans.

"look at you," he murmurs into her ear between strokes. "taking this dick so well. i can feel you dripping all over it."

"no fuckin' shit-"

"yeah? tell me how it feels."

"so fucking good." she chokes out, scratching at his back.

"it's yours. it's all yours baby. and i'm gonna give it all to you." he groans, losing himself in the warmth of her pussy. his strokes get faster, keeping his head level enough to see her face contort in pleasure, crying out his name.

arousal so thick, the room feels hot, and he can feel fluids dripping down her thighs. it's getting harder to stay inside of her with how wet she is, and he locks his feet into the mattress to gain more leverage, gathering her up in his arms tightly to barrel deep inside of her - inhaling the scent of ocean water still lingering in her hair to try and anchor him down from finishing too soon.

"don't hold out, give it to me. let me feel you cum on me. claim this dick as yours." he growls.

her moans get louder, nails digging into her back with red marks left in their aftermath. between the high of her first orgasm, his weight pressing into her body leaving her unable to move, and his dick, pushing and pulling her until her brain could barely form thoughts, she was unraveling fast, biting down hard on her lip as she felt an orgasm barrleling towards her fast.

she slaps his shoulders, pushing against him with a shriek. "it's too much, i can't- i'm about to-"

roman doesn't let her finish, pressing her mouth into hers to absorb her protests, feeling her pussy clench down on him, forcing his own orgasm. they pant, foreheads touching while he strokes them both through their high, running his fingers down her thighs to sooth her while she whimpers, and her pussy squeezes out the last bit of cum from him. he stills, letting a moment or two pass, letting her legs down to lay on top of her, his weight settling down, forehead to her breasts.

"you good?" she whispers.

"mhm." this time it's him that needs the comfort, and he sighs at her fingers tracing designs over his back - most likely over the tattoos that adorned his upper half.

"that felt like you're the one who had stress."

"both things can be true."

"you feel more relaxed?"

he lifts his head with broad smile, and in return she laughs, carding a hand through his drying hair.

"i love you, joe."

"i love you too." sweet smiles, a pause. "let me eat a piece of fruit off your nipple real fast -"

"damn, you can't even wait three minutes?"

"i just wanna see sumn-"

her laughs fill their villa, and his smile spreads up through his face. this is what they both needed. each other.

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Inspired by Kathani Sharma’s hatred of English tea and the fact Anthony is absolutely WHIPPED for this woman. Here is my ficlet. Thank you a million times over to my incredible beta @tofanasmuse ilysm.

Let me know what you think, send requests anytime, and free Palestine.

–Grace Williams xo

Word Count: 562 | Rating: General | Vibe: Fluff

Chai Love You

Kate Bridgerton still had little desire for Anthony to splash around his money on expensive gifts, despite her change in title. She appreciated living comfortably, sure, she would not deny that, but spending the family fortune on lavish clothes and hats was not something that brought her a great deal of joy.

Of course, to every rule there is an exception. They had barely stepped off the boat in Bombay, but Anthony could already see how Kate was settled in a way she never was in England. More than anything else, the flavours of this city and country were refueling Kate’s soul. Anthony tried to appreciate them, but his English palate recoiled from the amount of chili.

Anthony, like any respectable doting husband, insisted on shipping whatever spices Kate desired back to England. Unlike most gifts proffered by her husband, Kate welcomed this one most happily.

Now here Kate stands, one week past her honeymoon, as the only Bridgerton who knows how to turn on a stove, making herself chai long after everyone else has gone to bed.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asks softly, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen.

“Oh,” Kate turns, slightly startled, “I didn’t mean to wake you when I got up. I’m making a pot of chai,” she looks back to the stove, lightly stirring the mixture of milk and spices.

“I’m most impressed you know how to,” he replies amusedly, pressing himself off the wall.

“You’re impressed I know how to make a drink native to my culture?” she raises an eyebrow.

“No, of course not,” he rushes to clarify, “that you know how to use the,” he spares a look combining embarrassment and disdain, “stove.”

“You cannot be serious,” she snorts unbecomingly, falling into uncontrollable laughter that is much too loud given the hour of night.

“Did the cook not make chai this afternoon?” Anthony huffs, resting against the table in the centre of the room.

“She did…” Kate says slowly.

“What is it, Viscountess? Lady of the household?”

“Evidently my written instructions were not clear enough. The chai the cook made was, for lack of a better descriptor, inadequate.”

“Would you like to hire a second cook? One who specialises in Indian cuisine?”

“That’s most thoughtful of you to offer,” Kate smiles, placing a terracotta cover over the flame once her chai finishes brewing. “If a household this large has always had only one cook, then I shall not change that. I will just have to teach the cook of my culture’s food.”

“And you will do a most excellent job, of that I am certain,” Anthony grins proudly.

“I will do my best, to teach a cook how to cook,” she hums bemusedly.

“Is your chai adequate, my love?” he asks fondly, watching each delicate movement of the cup to her lips.

“It is perfect,” she sighs happily, unsure how she went without it for so long during the last London season. The two months since they had left India was long enough.

“I shall see to it that we always have the ingredients you require on hand,” Anthony promises, bringing her empty hand to his lips.

“If the Bridgerton fortune is to go to a collection of spices you cannot pronounce, I will ensure it does not go to waste. I shall see to it that you learn to love chai.”