#I am definitely missing some but I am too lazy

[hanakou-often]

Compilation of Hanako's bad habit of doing the most uncomfortable poses for the sake of being flamboyantly extra

[monzamash]

easy to please lando norris x you rating – mature (sexual themes, coarse language) blurb for ✨monzamusings✨

thinking about u, the text read. above it, there was a photo – dark, a little bit blurry, possibly a figment of your weary imagination. a hand pressing down on black cotton, tanned and veiny – a hand you immediately recognised. fingers too, gripping the thin material and an outline that had you sitting up in bed, lazy smile slipping across your flushed cheeks as the picture came into focus. lip bitten. baby, was all you sent in reply. your eyelids fluttered shut momentarily, loosing the battle to sleep until you felt your phone buzzing, resting in your slack hand. they were coming thick and fast and bringing you back into the present. your fingers tingled from the sensation when you held it up and nearly dropped the bright screen on your squinting forehead. don’t baby me i miss u can i call please???? winky face emoji.

you sighed sharply into the plush pillow beside your head, wondering whether or not you had the energy for it. the appetite was always there. hell – all you could think about was him; even in the mundane moments, he was everywhere you looked – your work, your friends, the cheesy rom com that made you cry before wrapping yourself up in a blanket and falling asleep. you missed him. the back and forth, the will they won’t they bullshit nearly sending you into a spiral of complete and utter confusion. the future was uncertain; the distance between where you were and wherever he was in the world unbearable but what you did know was that you loved him, missed him. and he was yours.

heartbreakingly so. alright romeo but make it quick always am hehe. dickhead.

the phone call connected after one, maybe half a ring – there was no pretence anymore with you and lando. this was routine now, the late night calls across oceans, and it was always the same. whispered, i miss you's and i love you's, strangled moans, hands frantically chasing the high of what you knew felt like heaven together, by whatever means necessary, the best dirty talk you could ever imagine, barely tiding you over until you could be close enough to feel each other again.

“hi pretty girl.”

“hi boyfriend”

“ugh, i love it when you call me that. say it again…”

and you did, over and over until the late night giggles took hold and lando couldn’t breathe – the goofy smile scrunching the corners of his dry eyes, fatigue and exhaustion lingering in his hoarse voice.

“you should be sleeping.”

“i would be if you were here,” he stated matter of fact, not even a blinking, “i think i got used to having you with me over winter break… spoiled me too much and now i'm ruined for life.”

“so dramatic.”

“i’m being so real,” he yawned and by the soft grumble on the other end, he was definitely stretching out his sore, weary muscles like cat. there was a beat and a click of the tongue before lando spoke again, the ominous silence already making your eyes playfully roll.

“so… what are you wearing right now?”

“unbelievable…”

“you cant blame a man for asking, especially in my hour of need… show me pleeeeease” lando whined, toothy smile no doubt lining his chapped lips.

“what if I’m not wearing anything?” you taunted, snapping a quick photo and sending it through without a second thought.

lando quickly peaked, side-eyeing the screen sneakily and sighed when he realised you were pulling his chain, “i'm wearing some shirt you left behind because it’s hotter than satan's asshole here in london at the moment.”

he groaned more to himself than to you, eyes scanning your curves under the thin material, fixated on how unconstricted you were under the shirt he recognised, breasts pert. lando was restless and you really did deserve more than the desperado ‘what are you wearing’ pick up line but god, he wanted to know, no, he needed to know because if he didn't find out, he feared he may never recover.

after all, it was you that had him sick in love. and perpetually horny.

“think i might like you in my clothes more than naked…"

“you’re a sicko.”

“mmm you make me like this… and no bra, like are you trying to kill me?”

“always.”

you cupped your chest over his shirt and took another photo, teasing the gorgeous man waiting for your every move with bated breath. he’d sucked in his bottom lip, you could hear by how shallow his breathing had become, reminiscent of a panting dog – the sound alone quickened your heart rate. the image of him sitting in a hotel room alone, hand pressed to his aching cock thinking about you, parched to the point of a sleepless night was dizzying.

and it was easy with lando, the familiarity of his voice and the rhythm you effortlessly fell into. all remnants of consciousness melted away with him.

“wish i was there with you baby,” he whispered and you nodded, smiling, even though he couldn’t see how happy it made you to hear him say it.

“me too,” you sighed, relaxing into the stillness until your loud, obnoxious doorbell shook you from the peaceful silence.

“fuck!” you cursed, frozen in place.

“what?” 

“someones at the door…”

“what time is it there?”

“like 11pm… should i ignore it?” you were already grabbing the cardigan you'd thrown over the end of your bed and halfway to the door, curiosity winning out.

“nah, nah. you’re on the phone with me – answer it,” he encouraged, “i wanna make sure it isn’t your side piece coming ‘round when i’m not there.”

“ha-ha, actually my other boyfriend is already here, i've been trying to get you off the phone this whole time...”

"hmm, lucky cunt." he mumbled.

lando made you brave, stupidly brave so you swung the door open without hesitation, locked and loaded with a line of interrogating questions for the person interrupting the precious time you had with the man you love.

but you were hearing double as you held the phone to your ear and looked up – you knew that mess of frazzled curls and tired eyes anywhere, peering back with a smile the size of the moon curling at the corners of his lips. he was bundled up in a hoodie, one you knew would feel warm to the touch and smelled like him.

you had to be dreaming.

“better go tell your other boyfriend to pack his shit and get the fuck out of our house.”

“lando…” tears welled in your eyes as you lunged into his open arms.

“hi pretty girl…” he chuckled, picking you up without hesitation and hooked your legs around his waist, carrying you over the threshold.

“why didn’t you say you were coming home?”

“surprises are sexy, no?” he asked, voice deliciously low. he knew your answer.

“very sexy.” you moaned and pressed firm, fiery kisses into his strong neck, “you’re so sexy – all of this is sexy… god, i love you.”

“love you too sweetheart – let’s go to bed.”

“to sleep?” you asked, with doe-eyes and a devilish grin.

“yeah, i flew eleven fuckin' hours to just sleep… oh and by the way," lando narrowed his eyes and pointed to the crinkled shirt hanging from your shoulders, you looked a mess.

"i want my shirt back right now.”

you hummed and twirled down the hallway, “you’re gonna have to pry it off my cold, horny body, norris…”

“mission accepted,” lando confidently stated, chest puffed as he started stripping his hoodie from his body and inched closer and closer to where you were stood and all you could do was admire the gorgeous man stalking towards you.

oh, and blink a few times to make sure you definitely weren't dreaming, "i can't believe you were sexting me in the back of a cab."

“i know," he chuckled, "it was getting a bit much by the end there, so i walked the last couple of blocks to calm myself down."

you couldn't suppress the moan building in your throat at his touch and his confession – your mind was running wild, "that's so hot."

"you are." he quipped, hands slowly tracing your sides and cupping your chest in his warm palms.

"this is way better than phone sex.”

lando shrugged as you ran your hands down his toned stomach, thumbs circling the indents just above his hips, “i’ll take anything with you – it’s all good to me.”

“you’re easy to please.”

“well, you make it easy – god, look at you,” he exhaled, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face and all you could do was smile.

“i’m glad you’re home, ya goof. it doesn't feel right without you here."

“me too, baby. meee too.” lando smiled and planted a longing kiss to your pouty lips.

more writing...

bit of backstory with this blurb; it was originally going to be a follow up to another fic i wrote called lost in japan and then got buried in the wip graveyard. somehow it resurfaced in my doc folder right when i needed it and i feel like it still kinda fits in the lost in japan universe - selfishly i love those characters. anyways, i hope you enjoyed it 💋

[cherry-leclerc]

needy ☆ cl16

genre: humor, fluff, jealous/possessive!charles, smut, established relationship

word count: 2.3k

A certain dislike bubbles deep inside of the Monegasque when you attend your first race and continue praising his teammate.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, doggy position, m!receiving, blowjob, elevator sexxxx, choking

req!...aghhh i wish men existedddd

You’re smiling wide, face flustered with genuine happiness as you beam up at the podium from afar. The lights, fireworks, music, and environment fill you with pure adrenaline, and suddenly, you get it. Why a lot of people enjoy the sport, you mean. It was an exciting thing to witness.

But from the garage, where your boyfriend is getting weighed after a tiring race, Charles glares at you and then at Carlos who he can’t quite see but can hear the applause for as they announce his name. He can see the way you clap, the way your eyes crinkle up at his teammate. 

It should’ve been him. 

“You were amazing, baby!” you cheer as you skip towards him, arms flying over his broad shoulders. He grimaces. I’m sweaty, he protests as he lightly nudges you away. “Oh.” You take a wary step back at his odd behavior that had never taken place before. “I- um…Carlos and Rebecca invited us out for dinner to celebrate. Do you want to go?”

He could tell you wanted to and he hates how much it bothered him. The way it tugged at his heart like a painful needle. “I’m sweaty,” he simply states again. 

“You can shower first, I’m sure they won’t mind if we’re a bit late-”

“Or you can go without me.”

You frown, shoulders drooping. “But I don’t want to go without you…”

He blinks. Just as he’s able to speak again, Carlos proudly makes his way over with a shiteating grin. “Charles! Great race, man, I’ve missed driving like that.” They share a fierce hug before the Monegasque sheepishly smiles.

“Yeah, I did too.” A beat. “We’ll probably be a bit late to your dinner.”

The Spaniard waves him off. “That’s alright, as long as you make it. I want to celebrate something like this with my team. Especially since this is our last season together.”

Charles can feel a wave of annoyance towards himself for envying the 29 year old. He did enjoy the race, he was extremely happy for his friend, but it didn’t quite click why it nicked him how you wore a bright smile. He nods, a lazy arm pulling you in towards him. Your brows pinch with confusion. “We’ll be there.”

-

“I’m glad I was able to make it,” you ponder as you reapply with a fresh coat of lipstick. Charles dries his brown locks with a white towel as he stands close by. Me too. You hum, eyes trained on your reflection. “It didn’t seem like it.” 

His stomach churns at your sad tone. “I swear I am. Why would you say that?”

A tint of red colors your cheeks as you purse your lips. “For starters, you wouldn’t even let me get close to you. You pushed me away, remember?” He winces at the reminder. 

“I d-didn’t want to cover you with my gross sweat,” he tries as you shake your head.

“Like that’s ever been an issue. You’ve played soccer and kissed me. You’ve had a round of basketball and hugged me after an hour of attempting to make a hoop. Or when you played golf under the blazing sun and kept me close no matter what.” You grab your purse as you make your way towards the door. “Don’t make up some stupid excuse, Charles.”

Guilt slithers all around the green eyed boy as he watches you converse with the Scottish model. He feels like an old grump around the most colorful flower, and he’s ruining it. He was determined to make it up to you. “I’m glad you were here to witness my first podium of the season considering it’s your first time attending a race. That way you remember me as your boyfriend's best teammate,” Carlos gloats as you laugh.

“Oh, for sure.”

Jealousy pangs Charles once again as you continue. “I don’t know how you did it…it was a close one. But definitely a great race, you live up to your last name,” you salute as he winks as a thank you. Rebecca agrees besides her boyfriend. “You got me though because - no offense - I thought Charles had it in the bag.”

You’re getting back at him now. He can hear it in your voice as his eye slightly twitches. The Spaniard chuckles. I thought so too. Placing a warm hand over the Monegasque, you swiftly kiss his stubble. “But you were great nonetheless, Cha. My favorite driver without a doubt. My number one…Ooops. Four.”

“Ah, shit,” Lando hisses from down the table as he nibbles on a piece of cake. 

Charles fumes. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing, amour? Thank you, thank you very much.” 

You giggle. “No problem.”

Coughing awkwardly, Carlos diverts the conversation from the sudden tension as a new topic comes up. You simply jump in with ease as the Monegasque keeps to himself.

He could’ve gotten a podium if it weren’t for his front brake locking. He could’ve been the one celebrating right now with all his friends. He was simply better.

“I’m really going to miss this,” a deep voice rips him away from his thoughts. Carlos sighs. “It’s a struggle, but I will miss it when I’m gone. Especially you,” he says as he points to his teammate. “A sore loser, but you gotta love him.”

Charles scoffs. “I am not a sore loser.”

“He’s right,” you muse. “But trust me, it's incurable. For God's sake, he pouted when I beat his time on the stimulator.”

Pierre gapes. “She beat you? As in her?” Kika laughs, pulling him back by his linen shirt. “That’s actually pretty impressive.”

The Monegasque blushes. “It happened one time. It was probably broken that day.”

“Ahh,” Daniel says as he clicks his tongue. “I totally see it.”

“Would you stop it?” Charles deadpans as the table laughs at his defensive behavior. “I’m honestly happy for Carlos. I am.” 

The Spaniard wiggles his dark brows in a teasing manner. “You hate me a little bit though, no?”

He squints his eyes before aiming a napkin at the brown haired driver. “In the very moment, yeah. Maybe a little.” Carlos raises his hands up before smiling. As the night grows older, the more you lean into your boyfriend's touch, eyes fluttering tiredly. “Wanna leave?”

“Not yet,” you murmur against his chest. “One more round of drinks.”

He snickers. “I think you’ve had enough. Here.” He hands you a glass of water. “Drink it all.” Rolling your eyes, you oblige before it actually sobers you up enough to call it a night. 

“Congrats again, Carlos!” you chirp as your boyfriend drags you away, swinging Charles’ hand like a glass of champagne. “Here’s to more podiums!”

“More podiums, my ass,” he growls as tugs you out. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” you hum as you sloppily kiss his lips. “You look so pretty, Cha, you know? Your eyes, your lips, your hair.” You lean in closer to his ear, whispering. “Your cock.”

“Pretty?” he retorts, trying his best to hide his hard on. You giggle. You’re also so fucking hot when you get territorial. It’s sickening, but I love it. His breath hitches.

“Oh, that was fast,” you cutely muse when his car rolls in by the valet. “Ready?”

“Y-yeah.”

As soon as you step foot inside the wide room, you jump onto him, lips clinging onto his neck, hands rushing through his hair frantically. I’m sorry for all I said. I love you, you’re my favorite driver, my number one. You’re-

“Oh,” you sigh as he kneels down in front of you, kissing your legs all the way from bottom to top, worshiping you until his head is beneath your dress, nose brushing against your panties. You shudder. He nips as you leap up in surprise. His teeth wrap around the thin material before sliding down and looking up at you like a dog. 

“Go to the bed. On all fours. Your favorite number, isn’t that right?” 

It’s a lame joke, but it still strikes you with shock as you carefully make your way over, following his clear instruction. And you think he’s going to fuck you, the way you were waiting for, but instead unzips his jeans and takes his boxers off, and stands in front of you. Open. “I thought we were-”

“Well you thought wrong, now open,” he grunts, hands grabbing your chin as he forces your mouth wide. Following along, you stick your tongue out eagerly. Like a dog. You should be ashamed, but can’t find the strength when he slips down your throat. You gag as he groans. “That's it, baby. Work your jaw f’me.”

Deepthroating him, you hum around his length as you take him all. He growls when your teeth graze his skin for a second, harshly pushing you back. “And you’re still being mean to me?” He tsks. “What did I do to you today for you to ignore me?”

Your brows arch. “I wasn’t ignoring you. You were ignoring me.” Fixing your dress, you climb off the bed, but not before he grabs your hand, dark eyes staring back at you. Where are you going? “Far away from you.” He fixes himself before marching after you. Just as the elevator is about to close, he manages to slip in. “I’m not talking to you,” you promise, arms crossed.

“Great.” The elevator comes to a halt. “Because this doesn’t require talking.”

Pushing you against the glass, he kisses you hungrily, greedy hands squeezing your ass as you squeal, attempting to push him off. This only makes him take a step back, rubbing his jaw. Seriously? You debate with yourself for a while before biting down on your lip and pulling him back towards you. 

There’s no sound other than moans and groans as he fucks your against the elevator. The angle causes his tip to hit your g-spot at a mindblowing pace as your head rolls back with pleasure. He’s the first to break the silence as he places a hand next to your head and the other secure around your waist as he pounds into you, loopy eyes admiring the way your breasts bounce. 

“I want you to know that despite my attitude, I’m happy for him, I am.” You don’t need to ask to know who he’s referring to as you hastily nod. I know, Charles. Leaning down to kiss him, you pout when he turns his head, leaving you to peck his jawline. “But you’re mine, all mine.” He sucks on your breasts that spill out in front of him as you whimper. “Repeat it back to me.”

“I’m all y-yours, you doofus,” you grin, tangled hair flying into your mouth as you squirm. “I didn’t even think I’d have to say it.” Squealing in shock, you hurry to grab the metal bar as he places you down and spins you around, leaving you mushed up against the tinted glass. “Oh shit.”

“Pretty view, no?” he quietly questions behind you, lustful eyes laser focused on the way you take him like no other. He grunts, head rolling back, messy hair following along. There’s no room to worry about the possibility that there could be a camera in the tiny space, or that help may be on the way despite the red button being pushed on purpose. And then he wraps his large hand around your throat and your breath hitches, tiny hole enveloping around him even harder. “S-so good, chérie.” He kisses you shoulder sloppily, mouth hanging a tad bit open as he tries to push back his fierce sense to come inside of you. 

I think it’s stuck, a familiar voice clarifies from outside. 

It is, you dimwit, another retorts as a group of mumbles follow with agreement. 

“Oh shit,” Charles whispers as he rapidly pulls out of you, fixing you dress and hair to the best of his ability before focusing on his equally fucked out appearance. A soft wail escapes your lips at the sensitivity that remains in between your legs as Charles apologetically pecks your temple and the door finally slides open.

“Charles?” Pierre squeaks as soon as he spots his friend. “Holy shit, are you guys okay?”

“Completely fine!”

“It was so scary,” you add, shivering with theatrical fear to emphasize your words. “Thank God they were able to help us,” you say as you signal to the hotel staff members who stand by with a skeptical smile. “I don’t know what we would have done.”

“I have a theory,” Lando whispers to Carlos as they snicker, taking in your sweaty state. The way your zipper isn’t all the way up, showing off a bit of humid skin. The way the Mongasque keeps his hands adamantly in front of his hard on. It’d be stupid not to know what had been taking place prior seconds.

“Well thank God you guys are okay,” Pierre breathes, already making his way to hug you and the 26 year old. Kika grimaces while you two cringe at the fact that the Frenchman was getting a good look and feel of the forbidden afterglow. Patting his shoulder away awkwardly, Charles hums enthusiastically.

“It’s been quite an eventful day... Charles?”

Dark brows fly up before nodding hastily. “Yeah! We should go to sleep…Take care guys! Au revoir!” 

Pierre smiles happily as he watches you two scurry away, Charles almost tripping as you grab onto his shoulder to level him up. “That’s actually really scary, I think I would cry if I were in their situation,” he admits, wide eyes blinking towards his friend group.

“Oh, honey,” Kika sighs, leaning up to pat her boyfriend's chest with empathy for his naiveness. What? Wouldn’t you? 

Lando can’t help but let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands with amusement. 

“Open up your eyes, Pierre. Those two totally fucked.”

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

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[javierpena-inatacvest]

Sunday Naps

Summary: It's Sunday, which means it's time for your favorite weekend activity- an afternoon nap with Frankie. But when Frankie finds himself awake before you with an interesting problem, he knows just the way to wake you up, too.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Word Count: 2.6K (The self restraint on this was UNREAL)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do this irl), VERY CONSENSUAL Somnophilia, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, this is porn with no plot, reader has no physical descriptions (but pls let me know if I missed any!!)Frankie being a menace but also literally the sweetest man alive, Frankie's a Tampa Bay Buc's fan (idk, if he lives in Florida, this makes the most sense to me, I will not elaborate), napping during football bc me too, girl

A/N: This is my first time writing somno so pls be nice, I am NERVY😭 I hope y'all enjoy, Frankie Morales is forever making me swoon, and I just know in my heart that this man absolutely loves to nap and is the world's biggest snuggler 🥺💕 not beta'd bc that's just how I roll

Before you had met Frankie, Sunday was arguably the worst of the weekend days- looming stress of the work week ahead, mettled with to-do’s and other chores before Monday got the best of you. There were very few times that you had found yourself anxiously awaiting a Sunday, but since Frankie? Sundays had easily become one of your favorite days of the week.  

Slow and easy going mornings where Frankie brought you coffee as the sun rose before tangling your bodies between the sheets in a mess of soft and unrushed sex, followed by cuddling and leisurely making your way out of bed for breakfast, awaiting a relaxing day ahead of you. 

Now that it was fall, it also meant football season, and while you didn’t really care either way about the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, you enjoyed any time that you got to spend cuddled up next to Frankie on the couch, considering more often than not, it normally resulted in the two of you fucking during half-time, followed by you promptly napping wrapped in Frankie’s arms for the better part of the 2nd half.  

This Sunday was no different, you and Frankie had found yourself happily snuggled on your couch under your favorite fluffy blanket, Buccaneers game on in the background, Frankie’s arm draped around you as you leaned against his chest, soaking in the familiar warmth and scent of him radiating from the worn cotton of his t-shirt as you felt your eyelids slowly begin to droop heavier and heavier. With the way Frankie had been mindlessly rubbing soft, gentle circles against your back, his thumb dancing in swirling patterns across your skin, it wasn’t long before the comfort of being held in Frankie’s arms had completely washed over you, and you had found yourself fast asleep well before the start of the second quarter. 

What you hadn’t realized, was that Frankie had fallen asleep not long after you, the weight of your body pressed against his, along with the long week he’d had from work and the symphony of melodic snores now roaring from your parted lips and knocked him out almost equally as fast, leaving the two of you in a blissfully happy pile of nap on another lazy Sunday afternoon. 

That was, until, Frankie found himself wide awake well before you with a very curious problem. 

He was hard as a fucking rock. 

Some way or another in your sleepy, napping state, the both of you had rolled over on your sides, Frankie now spooning you with his arm draped over your middle and your ass pressed firmly against his crotch, quickly solving the mystery to the hardon straining at the fabric of his sweatpants. 

But if just your ass nestled against your dick wasn’t enough, Frankie looked over to see that you were definitely also dreaming, and the type of dream you were having wasn’t hard to decipher based on the way you were quietly moaning in your sleep and subtly grinding your hips into Frankie’s lap. 

“Mmmmmmm… Frankie…..” You quietly whimpered, your voice groggy with sleep as you stirred in Frankie’s arms, now finding himself almost unbearably hard at the sight that he’d awoken to, especially now knowing that the dream you were having was definitely about him. Frankie let out a deep, shaky exhale, now more awake than ever as you continued to gently squirmed your bottom half against him, biting down at his bottom lip as you moaned again. 

“Frankie… Oh fuck…..”  

“Fuck…” Frankie whispered, now raging an internal war in his head as he debated what to do next, knowing you were clearly turned on by whatever was happening in your slumber, his cock aching with each second that passed with you spooned against him. 

Should he just try to get up and jerk off before you woke up? Wake you up and then ask if you wanted to fuck? Or maybe… Maybe, he’d wake you up a different way. 

Although he hadn’t done it often, you had made it abundantly clear to Frankie that it had been more than okay to wake you up to sex, and every time he had, you’d absolutely loved it. Frankie had been hesitant at first, never wanting to do anything without your consent, or do anything that would ever make you feel even remotely uncomfortable, but after you had insisted and he had worked up the courage, he knew he had the green light from that point on- And given the state that you were in right now, Frankie was about to make good on your outstanding offer. 

Carefully shifting his body out from behind you, Frankie let you gently fall so your back was resting against the couch, caging his broad body over yours as he worked his way down to the waistband of your pants, gently sliding them off your hips before tugging at your underwear and leaving your bottom half bare for him. 

Frankie sat back on his knees, in shock and awe of the glistening, wet mess your pussy had already become in your sleep just dreaming of him, arousal coating your folds and inside of your thighs as you lazily shifted in your sleep, your legs seeming to instinctually fall open, just for him. 

“Fuck me, baby girl…” He whispered to himself under his breath, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he audibly gulped, his eyes going wide as he locked on to your cunt, already dripping and aching for him. Settling down to lay on his stomach, he carefully lifted up your legs to rest over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your waist, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hips while he settled himself face to face with your heat. 

With one long, flat press of his tongue, Frankie dragged himself across your clit, savoring the sweet tang of the juices that had been dripping from your hole, lapping them up with one more lengthy lick, before pulling his mouth away just enough to see how you’d react to the new presence between your legs. 

As if Frankie wasn’t already turned on enough, your reaction was clearly aiding his cause. 

After just one lick of his tongue through your folds, you were already incredibly responsive, your hips instinctively jerking towards his face as a breathy whine escaped from your lips, as if you were already begging for more without having to say a word. A slight smirk began to spread across Frankie’s face as he dove back in again, this time, working himself along your cunt in easy, languid strokes, feeling your body begin to twitch even more with the way he was working his mouth. 

“Mmmmmmm…. Yeah…..” You muttered, still sleeping as you kept bucking your bottom half against his face, only encouraging Frankie to give you more with his tongue, beginning to change his pattern to swirl deliberate, steady circles around your clit, putting more and more pressure into each movement. 

“Frankie….” 

“That’s it, sweet girl…” Frankie hummed, his words rumbling in his chest as his hot breath danced against your core, continuing to coax you out of your slumber, working through your folds and at your sensitive bud with intensifying pace. 

It wasn’t long until Frankie’s careful and meticulous work slowly began to turn more sloppy and desperate, feeling the wet mess you were becoming under his tongue driving him insane, wanting, no needing, to make you cum, to wake you up with pleasure flowing through your veins, turning your sleepy mumbles into cries of his name over and over again. 

Letting one arm untangle around your leg, he brought the hand to your pussy, gently slipping one finger into your aching core, sucking him in with your warm, wet walls, only giving it a few pumps before realizing you could easily take a second, slipping it in to meet the first and curling the pair to brush against the soft and spongy spot inside you he knew drove you absolutely mad. Almost instantly, he could feel your cunt beginning to clench in response, your tell tale sign that you were getting closer and closer to reaching your high and completely coming undone around him. 

“C’mon, querida, I’ve got you, baby.”

Suddenly, your eyes shot open, your heart racing as you felt a familiar feeling building in your belly, the coil inside you already wound so tightly as you let out a ragged moan, lifting your head up to see Frankie nestled between your legs, drinking you up like a man starved. 

“Oh fuck, Frankie, fuck- baby, fuck, don’t stop” You whimpered, shooting your hand down to burry it in the messy, dark curls of his hair, tugging at his locks for any sort of relief as you had awoken to the savory sensation shooting down your spine and through your core from Frankie’s lips latched around your clit and fingers pulsing in and out of your cunt. 

Frankie had barely any time to register that you were now awake, but as you grasped firmer at his hair and let out a ragged moan as you came, clenching around his fingers and gushing with your arousal, it had become very clear to Frankie that he had done his job, and done it well. 

“There’s my good girl. Damelo (Give it to me), Hermosa, fucking soak my face.” Frankie smirked, pulling away to reveal the shiny slick covering his beard, still gently rocking his fingers in the warm, wet walls of your heat as you came down from your high, you chest heaving in low, shallow breaths, mouth hanging open as you let a moan of pure ecstasy fall from your lips. 

“Frankie… Holy Fuck…” 

“Good morning.” Frankie mewled, pulling his fingers out of your pussy, making you hiss at the loss as he laid himself on top of you, swallowing your whimpers in an electric kiss, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips as his tongue swiped across your mouth, silently begging for more. “Must have been some good dreams you were having, querida. You were so fucking wet for me, baby. I couldn’t help myself.” 

“Frankie, please, I need you. Fuck- Fuck, I need you to fuck me, Frankie, please. Need you inside me.” 

“Needy girl. I’ve got you, Hermosa. Don’t worry. Woke up so fucking hard for you, baby. Didn’t stand a fucking chance with that pretty ass all pressed up against me. Fuck, you’re so perfect.” Frankie sighed, reaching down to shuffle his sweatpants and boxers down off his hips, revealing his painfully hard cock, his tip red and weeping with precum, aching to be buried inside you from the moment he had woken up. 

Wrapping his hand around his length, he stroked himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, the two of you letting out a heavy sigh of relief as Frankie pushed inside you, slowly filling you up inch by inch until his tip was kissing your cervix, taking a few moments to let you adjust to the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness. 

His forehead dropped to rest against yours, the shimmering sheen of his sweat making his dark curls stick to him and brush against your skin, his broad palm cupping your cheek as he let your lips lock onto yours again for another tender kiss as he slowly began to thrust in and out of you, taking his sweet time with each stroke. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet and tight, queirda.” Frankie grunted, gritting his teeth as his hips rutted into you, the weight of his body draped overtop of you sending your mind reeling, loving every second of being engulfed in his broadness. “What were you dreaming about, baby, hmm? What were you dreaming about that had you all worked up?” 

Suddenly, Frankie’s arm was wrapping under your legs, pressing your knees to your chest to stretch you open even further, the new position making you breathless as he began to pound into you with more intensity, the room now filling with a mix of your moans and skin slapping against each other. 

“I was dreaming- oh fuck- Fuck, I was dreaming about you, Frankie. Shit- dreaming about you fucking me like this, how good you make me feel.” You whined, Frankie’s grip in the soft flesh of your thighs growing tighter as you locked eyes with him, the dark, chocolate brown pooling with lust watching the wrecked mess you were quickly becoming as your cunt began to clench tighter, and the all too familiar tingle in your spine once again began to creep through your body. 

Your response elicited a low hum in Frankie’s chest, rutting his hips into you with more intensity as he felt your pussy starting to flutter around his cock, freeing one of his hands to snake between your legs, the pads of his fingers putting just the right amount of pressure on your clit to have you screaming out his name as you felt yourself creep closer and closer to your second orgasm. 

“Fuck me. That’s all I want baby, just wanna make you feel good. You gonna be a good girl and give me one more, Hermosa? Cum all over my cock before I fill you up?” 

Frankie could feel his own high slowly approaching now too, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and frantic as he pounded against your g-spot and circled your clit, determined to make sure you came again before he did. 

“Mmmmmhhhmmmm.” You whimpered, your brain barely even able to form a coherent thought, let alone a complete sentence, given how your eyes were practically rolling in the back of your head as Frankie’s punishing pace split you open in the best way possible, your legs beginning to tremble while you could feel the knot tightening in your core quickly building up to the point of snapping. “Oh fuck, fuck, Frankie, fuckfuckfuckfuck I’m so close, fuck, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” 

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm crashed through you, euphoria flowing through your veins as you came, every inch of you filling with pleasure as your cunt clamped around Frankie’s length, soaking him in your arousal. Watching you cum was all Frankie needed to follow suit, gritting his teeth as a ragged groan rumbled deep in his chest, pumping a few more times into your heat before burying himself in your warm, wet walls, and milking himself of every last drop as he came, the mix of his spend and your slick leaking and coating the inside of your thighs

Letting his body collapse into yours, he draped himself on top of you, your chests rising and falling in sync with heavy, heaving breaths, the both of you trying your best to regain your composure before Frankie gently pulled himself out, making you hiss at the loss of his fullness as he flopped over next to you, planting a soft kiss on your lips as lay his arm across your stomach, pulling you into him. 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie… That’s one way to wake up from a nap.” You giggled softly, raising your eyebrows at him, softly biting down on your lip. 

“Was that okay?” Frankie asked, shifting his hand up to gently cup your face, stroking his thumb in lazy circles around your cheek, staring back at you with his sweet puppy dog gaze. “I know I’ve done it before but I just always wanna make sure you feel good and-” 

You caught the rest of his sentence in your mouth, swallowing his words in another long, and tender kiss, pulling away from his plush lips to peck a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose, giggling once again. 

“God, I love you. What did I ever do to deserve you, Fransisco Morales? Yes, baby it was more than okay. So okay that in fact,” You huffed, wrapping your arm around Frankie’s waist and letting your head fall to lay on his chest, “I think I need another nap.”

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @ilovepedro @itsokbbygrl

[fuckitupfelix]

ANON. LET ME COOK WITH THIS ANON.

third time's the charm !?

miya atsumu x male reader

word count: 1.8k

atsumu's self proclaimed "flirting" doesn't get him very far when the guy he's crushing on is absolutely clueless.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

atsumu miya is a fairly popular student. he’s quite well known among his classmates, and generally well liked. as a result, he’s grown a bit cocky. he considered himself a chick magnet— osamu jokes that he’s actually just a manwhore, to atsumu’s dismay— but the fact remains that he was attractive and he knew it, even if he never really acted on it. sure, he liked the attention, but when it came down to it, and osamu or suna ever prodded on why he didn’t get with any of the countless people leaving love letters in his locker, he would simply say they were ‘distractions’. his main focus was volleyball! he’d mess around here and there, but he would never take any of his little flings seriously. that’s what he’s been telling himself. he knows he could get with anyone, and he prides himself on that. it gives him a sense of power; a sense of control— until a certain (name) (surname) joined his class.

the teen had transferred into inarizaki in the middle of second year, and while he knew of the ‘wonder twins’ (he so aptly nicknamed them in his head) through friends and bits he’d seen online, he didn’t care much for them. as far as he was concerned, they were just teenagers. athletes with admirable skill, sure, but teenagers nonetheless. just the same as he was.

atsumu’s been pulling his hair out over the past few weeks because of (name)— his previous logic going straight out the window with the new transfer student. any and all attempts that the setter made to drop hints were futile. the guy was, to put it simply, far too dense.

ATTEMPT ONE: HOMEROOM.

upon (name’s) initial arrival, atsumu’s hooked immediately. it’s not like his introduction was anything crazy; the teacher called him in, he introduced himself, and sat down in the free seat next to suna and behind atsumu. but there’s something so appealing about the teen that draws atsumu in. the setter turns around in his seat, his usual lazy grin sprawled across his face.

“hey there. name’s miya atsumu,” he hums, before jutting a thumb towards the seat to (name’s) left. “that there’s suna rintaro.”

the expected reaction, if you know who he is— and he’s offended at the notion someone at his school potentially wouldn’t— would be absolute joy and surprise. instead, the new student responds with a, “oh. you’re the volleyball guys, right? nice to meet you two.”

suna has to bite back a snort at atsumu’s expression— his jaw dropped, his eye twitching. that’s it? “ya know who i am, yeah?” he asks, regaining his composure immediately. “ain’t i impressive?” he drawls.

“i guess? yeah. you’ve got impressive skill.” (name) responds, seemingly missing the way atsumu bristles at the lack of praise. he decides to flirt a little, wanting to throw this guy off his game.

“since ya missed some of the curriculum already, i can help ya study. get ya caught up.” atsumu says. he catches the way (name’s) face lights up and feels the pride bubbling in his chest. “really? that’d be such a big help! where should we meet up?”

“i was thinkin’ we could study at my place,” atsumu hums, voice a bit lower.

“. . . wouldn’t it be more productive if we went to a library or cafe? i also don’t wanna disturb your parents at all.” (name) replies. suna barks out a laugh, and atsumu shoves his shoulder. “shut it, suna!” he sputters.

“i’m definitely tellin’ ‘samu this later,” the teen snickers, leaning back in his chair. “‘n turn around, ‘tsumu, the lesson’s startin’.”

with a grumble, atsumu turns back to face the front, his arms crossed. there’s no way he just got blown off like that . .

ATTEMPT TWO: VENDING MACHINE.

atsumu refused to give up, even after the relentless nagging from suna to ‘quit being a pussy’ lasted for weeks on end. the two of them sat together with osamu and ginjima on their lunch, a figure slumped over the table, groaning dramatically; the person being atsumu, of course.

“could ya whine a lil quieter? i’ve gotta finish my history assignment and yer bein’ distractin’,” suna says, prodding at atsumu’s crunchy hair— which only prompted another, longer, louder groan.

“i don’t get it! how oblivious is this guy gonna be?!” atsumu whines, his cheek pressed against the cool table. his teammates were going to comment on how none of his attempts were straightforward in the slightest, but decided to let him wallow a bit longer. with a sigh, atsumu stands from his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets. he just needs to clear his head.

“d’you guys want anything from the vending machine?” he asks. they tell him their respective requests, and he exits the cafeteria to find a free vending machine. as he’s wandering about, mind filled with thoughts and plans to get (name) to give in to his ‘flirting’, lo and behold, he’s right there, crouched in front of the vending machine. a pretty face contorted into a hardened expression, eyebrows furrowed as he scans the contents, before letting out a sigh and standing. he turns in the direction of atsumu, and he jumps a little.

“oh! miya-san, hey.” he hums. atsumu scoffs lightly at that, walking closer and leaning an arm against the edge of the vending machine. at this angle, he can see (name’s) face perfectly, the light from the window on the other wall shining beautifully against his skin. it makes him feel giddy.

“i told ya, you can jus’ call me atsumu. drop the honorifics already, (name),” he drawls, his signature smirk on his face. “ya grabbin’ a drink?” (name) nods. he frowns slightly, turning back to look at the vending machine. “i can’t decide what to get, though. any suggestions?”

it’s almost like a lightbulb sparks above atsumu’s head. he has a perfect idea. leaning over (name), he comes closer to the glass dividing them and the drinks, purposefully drawing his face inches away from (name).

“hm,” he narrows his eyes, pretending to think about it, before pointing to a peach tea can, letting that same arm loosely wrap above the other teen’s shoulder. “this peach tea’s pretty good. it’s sweet, just like you,” he says, adding that last part a little quieter.

this has to be it. (name) has to hear that and take the hint, atsumu thinks to himself. so when (name) turns, his face lighting up with joy, and he responds with, “that sounds perfect, man! thank you!” he gawks at the teen's obliviousness as he punches in ‘D-3’ on the keypad, sliding the coins in. the can falls down with a thud, and he takes it, walking off as he cracks it open and takes a sip.

atsumu really cannot catch a break.

ATTEMPT THREE: NATIONALS.

atsumu's been going at it in the gym for the entirety of his lunch break, practicing his serves, sending ball after ball over the net.

“i’m done!” atsumu sputters, his shoes squeaking as he jumps up, arms stretched out as he slams another volleyball across the court. it lands out, and he grits his teeth. “he's impossible! he keeps actin' all buddy-buddy with me!”

osamu snorts at his brother's pouting. “so you'd rather (name) hate yer guts?” “that's not what i meant!” he huffs childishly, kicking at the floor. “fuck it. i’m tellin’ ‘im! ‘samu,” he whirls around to face his twin, jostling him by the shoulders.

“where would (name) be right now?” “why would i know that? it's lunch, check the classrooms.” osamu says dryly, shoving atsumu off of himself.

atsumu just nods, ignoring the action. like his life depends on it, he sprints out of the gym and towards the main building. through the side doors, past the lockers, up the stairs, to the very end of the hall, until he reaches their classroom.

“(name)!” he all but yells, sliding the door open with too much force. students whisper and murmur around the room, girls huddled up in the corners, eyes wide and hands cupped over their cheeks as they practically marvel at the sight of atsumu. (name), however, looks a bit concerned. placing his lunchbox onto his desk, his fork laid gently beside it, he stands and walks over to the door, not noticing the stares from all over the classroom. as he steps out, he shuts the door behind him.

“atsumu? are you alright?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. “you look like you just ran a marathon—”

“we're goin’ to nationals tomorrow,” atsumu pants. (name) knew that— he's heard him and the others on the team talk about it in the halls, or when they have lunch at atsumu's desk.

“right, yeah. goodluck with that. you guys are gonna do amazing, obviously,” (name) chuckles. god, the sound makes atsumu's heart ache. he needs to get it out already, he's wasted far too much time dawdling.

“right, yeah. words don't mean much, though,” atsumu leans an arm against the wall, right next to (name). “a goodluck kiss would work wonders, though.” he says smoothly. this was his final attempt for (name).

the teen stiffens up at that. “what?” he laughs, wondering if he even heard atsumu correctly. “ya heard me. it’d be pretty motivatin’ if the pretty boy i’ve been likin’ gave me a lil goodluck kiss. just a lil peck.”

what?

“. . . you like me?” (name) asks. “since when?” atsumu huffs at that. “since forever! yer just too dense, i’ve been tryna hint at it for months now!” at that, the realization dawns on him. oh. “i thought you were just being nice!” (name) sputters, clearly trying to defend himself. atsumu lets out a choked noise.

“am i that bad at flirting?” he asks weakly. “no! i don't think so? i didn't realize you liked me at all! you should have said something!”

yes. he should have. he knows that, god knows osamu does as well. he just leans in a little closer. “so, how about that goodluck kiss, hm?” he asks after a beat of silence.

with a light scoff, (name) plants his hands on atsumu's shoulders, gripping at the fabric of his uniform shirt. it’s crumpled and smells slightly like sweat, but he decides to overlook that detail. he leans in, capturing atsumu's lips with his own. the kiss was brief, but atsumu's hands had already flown to cup the back of (name's) neck, gently tugging him forward. (name) lets out a startled noise, but doesn't move back until a few seconds later.

“so. you'll be watchin’ me at nationals, yeah?” atsumu drawls, his fingers carding through (name's) hair, idly twisting a strand.

“of course i will.”

this was so fun to write omg!!! also my reqs are open if you wanna drop any ideas for any fics !!

divider by @/plutism !!

[vanya-evergreen]

Quick blurb- batfam x civilian sibling

This was an idea that has been rattling around in my empty shell brain for about the past two days now. Anyways, basically, Sibling was adopted after tim before Damian in classic fanfic fashion, but you decided that you wanted nothing to do with Vigilante activities, if it is because of trauma or pure laziness is up to you. What you need to know is that you maintain a very public appearance with the Wayne name and all.

This means that you are lying your ass off every time one of the batfam members miss an event that they were expected to be at. So you decided to have some fun with it.

"Excuse! Where might your father be?" A reporter, covered by the crowd, shouted interrupting you mid speech.

You stop almost immediately and look out into the direction you heard the voice come from. This was the third time that you had been interrupted. And it was all about the same topic. Bruce Wayne.

This was meant to be a grand opening of a new building Wayne Enterprises had built for a small charity that was for treating childhood cancer, and the only thing I cared about was some rich guy? You didn't like this at all, and it didn't help Bruce's case that you were already pissed at him too.

"I am sorry to say but he couldn't make it..." This is typically where you left it, but out of pure spite you couldn't help but add more "he's resting in bed currently, I think he got a bad burn from last night's activities."

There are multiple rumors you could've been referring. It could've the one about him trying to grab a muffin tray out of the oven, or maybe one about him trying to slide down a pole... in his underwear. The options were endless, and you definitely weren't going to specify.

you continued on with your speech as crowd sat stunned in silence for a few seconds before people began to write once again. Even if their mind was still lingering back to what you implied..

Bruce was pissed, but everyone else thought it was hilarious. Until it started happening to them..

Some took your last snack or stole your phone charger? So what do you do? Make up an embarrassing cover story.

"Oh poor {batfam member}, I heard that he couldn't come today because they were injured. But I could have sworn that they were in the mansion playing around with some suction cups on their face."

The possibilities are really endless! Everyone would try to avoid pissing you off because of these rumors that you created. Hell, some of them even stopped skipping out on public event because of this. Your family began to fear you, you could monopolize the entirety of their public image just because you had more time to attend public events, then them.

Social media absolutely loved you though- everyone got a kick out of how you over shared Wayne's lives (even if it wasn't true). You were the prime source of Wayne gossip, a reporter needed to write something on the waynes they would just go to an event you're speaking at and ask what where your family members are and you would give them the most ridiculous stories. But they ate that shit up.

[thementalshawty]

PAC Who Is Your FS? Pt.1

Hey I am back with another PAC but I’m going to do something a little different this time. I will be doing 6 piles but they will be in a 2 parter because I want the energy of the 6 to be separated. So at the end of the day you can read this one and get the gist and the sec on part is confirmation or even extra information, the others can and will find their answers in one of the piles in either part one or two. This is a general reading so with that you know the deal, take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. So Picc an Emoji and let’s begin now.

Disclaimer: Tarot is not final but is a mere suggestion, don’t you depend on the opinion or suggestions of anyone to make your own decisions and judgement calls.

P1: 🍩

P2: 🍉

P3: 🥘

🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩

FS 1:

Animal that represents your FS: Crow Spirit. I feel like your FS off top is taboo, well for some of you here I’m hearing witches and warlocks as spouses in this pile, or maybe some of you are? Something about counting crows idk if they do that but I know that they definitely associate with crows in some way? They Cocreate with their spirit guides whether it’s aware to them or not. I told you some of them are witches and warlocks or are very powerful manifesters. They’re hella creative and they may have a Loud yell or call. They may have bird like features some of them. Something in them is Sharp? Like a sharp nose or a sharp stare??? Numbers: 1,7,8 & 17 may have some importance

Auset describing Your FS: Hapi Water Spirit. Numbers 1,3,4 and 13 could be of importance. I feel for some of you, your FS are water signs, mainly Scorpio and Pisces. They’re the type of person that needs to work energetically and with thought before making any moves. They’re definitely a planner and I’m hearing analyzer. This person wants nooooooo fuck ups! NONE HONEY!!! Baboons may have something to do with them too?? They need to visualize the moves for themselves before they do it. I’m telling you this is my alchemical pile right here, very very magical spouses, maybe you guys delve in magic too or should try it. If not you definitely them!

Describing Your FS (Oracle): Here & Now. Numbers 3,2,5 & 32 could have some significance. Some of your spouses are 32, I heard that not all but for some. They are not one to worry about the future or worry about the past, I heard they gotta plan for that already, they are just worried about executing the plan for today. They’re a very live in the moment and present kind of people. I see that they’re the type of person to get caught up sometimes and forget that though, cos being the planner that they are they do have worries about the future I feel in the past they weren’t as prepared and that shit caused them so much struggle and so from that day they wanna be prepared. This is a person who has plan b-Z if A doesn’t work. They are always present though, even when they worry about the future or the past they manage to always bring themselves back to the present cos they don’t wanna miss a thing. (Ha now I’m hearing that song by Aerosmith).

Your FS (Tarot): 9oPentacles, 6oSwords,Justice. You already know numbers 9,6,11,& 2 may have some importance to them. I feel that your FS are very accomplished, I feel it’s fairly new, they just acquired their success and blessings, they worked their goddamn asses for it! They aren’t a lazy person, they hate procrastinating but I feel they may do it sometimes which is why I feel they worked their asses off to get where and what they needed and it’s finally starting to pay off for them, matter of fact every single one of these cards sort of represent that, instead of telling me who they are it’s almost telling me what they’re going through, or what they’ve been going through and I think it’s because it’s a transformative time for them, they will be ascending and a lot of things that could describe them may be falling off so maybe your guides don’t want to fully share their personality because they’re experiencing their own experiences that’s showing them who they really are. I feel like they may like birds, crows, hawks Ravens etc. spiritually and materially they have just been blessed and they are enjoying every minute of it! They’re not missing a single second for the world! They have gone through way too much shit for them to not be anything other than present for this. They are FINALLY coming out of a dark place in their lives, they were in some drama mama! Some straight up chaos and that shit was so unhealthy it began to shut them down I’m hearing for some the others sort of just reacted angrily and it was so toxic they became spiritually and physically sick. I feel that they got some help to come in, and they were helped out by someone who moved them away from their toxic environment. I feel your FS are like that and I feel it’s cos they are compassionate, they know and understand struggle and they hate to see it. They could be a Libra due to the justice card of have Libra placements. They are the mediators of their group, I don’t see them having many friends, a selective few maybe some acquaintances that they laugh and joke around with but other than that nobody really close to them, I’m getting Lone Wolf and ranger type of vibes from this pile. They are someone who’s going to stand up for what they feel is true and fair and equal! They cherish and crave mutuality, if it’s imbalanced they not a fan. They honor equality and respect for all! They see everyone the same they don’t do favoritism and hatred towards anyone. They suffered. Some of your FS are Black, White, Some Asian/Korean/ Hispanic even too. I feel especially if you’re looking for women those ethnic backgrounds apply. Your FS has an ugly side tho, when unfairness or anything they feel is wrong or unjust comes out they are unmerciful. They can be ruthless if needed. Long hair for some, curly fros for others, black and brown hair colors I’m seeing. Gentleman and gentlewomen. Very soft but sharp features. True knights. Diplomatic and tactful, Hella charming. Playboys and women, they know how to bag a person! They’re very good looking, handsome, stunning, I’m even seeing gorgeous to some of you. It’s a very classy kind of beauty. Innocent and beautiful. They are quick to help out anyone they feel needs them and they’re not the type to swoop in and save the day assuming that needs to happen, they will always approach and ask “you need some help?” “Can I help you?” Perfect customer service representative honestly. They’re very sweet and kindhearted. Great smiles. They may be gardeners some of them, they like organic shit, they may not eat meat, or anything that has chemicals and toxic ingredients in food. They are very sensitive about what they put into their bodies. Smokers for some? (Weed not cigarettes or anything else). This person is a catch, a true victorious winner and they will treat you amazingly. Earth and Air placements especially Libra and Taurus! This person is Venus personified! Congrats! They’re hella seductive! I’m trying to find something bad on them honestly but it’s not working. They just fuccin rocc! Acts of Service is their love language.

I feel that. Congrats p1 you deserve it.

🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

FS II

Animal that represents your FS: Bee Spirit. So I’m seeing that 7 could have some significance, as well as the colors Yellow and Black, which leads me to think that some of your FS are mixed races. They’re very hardworking and some of them are the queen bees lol. They have been striving towards something and sweet results are about to roll in for them. I feel like they’re very goal oriented, tunnel vision. This is my workaholic pile I feel, they are workhorses some of them, others are spoiled by others. They have stingers but only use them if they absolutely must. They work like a well oiled machine, no rest. They are around the clock nonstop movers and shakers and they’re about to be rewarded if they aren’t already.

Auset Describing Your FS: Set. Numbers 3,7, 10, 1 & 37 could have some importance to your FS. Set is the god of chaos and war, dirt and sandstorms. I feel your FS have dealt with a lot of challenges and they have some negative traits that you will not like, I’m getting Aries vibes from this. The color red is coming to my head, something about rage. They may have anger issues, they are a jealous person. Some of your FS are bitter from all the challenges they went through, life gave them shit and they kind of internalized it and became dreadful, survival mode on lock, they are so paranoid, they may have or had beef with a sibling. They could have jealous family members. Some of them could have just been dealing with some shit. They can be the youngest sibling or the issue is with the younger sibling. People are intimidated by them. Their demeanor is don’t fucc with me and people heed that shit. They could be 37 some of them, or 10 years older or younger than some of you? They’ve seen some ugly shit in their lives in love, family, career etc. I’m seeing drug addiction for either them or someone they loved and they dealt with that shit. This person is strong but it tainted them in the process I feel.

Describing Your FS (Oracle): Treasure Island. The number 9 could be of some importance to your FS. I feel like they’re the type to see the beauty in things others may not. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, they may have that mindset. They’re beginning to see the results of their own actions, they’ve been moving slow towards this goal that they’re about to receive. This person is a treasure and you’ll definitely see them that way! Great at manifesting, they’re right now working with the law of attraction. They just received a financial windfall from out of nowhere to them. They’re very abundant right now or they’re definitely about to be.

Your FS (Tarot): The Empress, 3oSwordsRx, & The HermitRx. I see that the number 3, 9, & 7 are frequent in this reading so I feel like those numbers in particular are very important to your FS. They can be a Virgo or a Pisces. They’re very intelligent and intuitive. Your FS is beautiful you’ll be blown away by their beauty. Especially if it’s a woman too! They can have braids or locs some of them. They’re very sweet and loving, nurturing and parental. They could have kids. They may love moon bathing some of them, or they should. They are of the world; hella creative and open to whatever the universe/god is bringing them. They are always coming up with new ideas and projects they are the type of people to have plenty of hobbies, a jack of all trades. They are very blended in their energies, and elements. I feel whatever they went through shaped them and helped them become whole but I just think that they can’t see it. They are the type to not know the magnitude of how much they rule!! They may shit on themselves heavily! They are the type to be there for everyone except themselves. They put themselves on the backburner. They are so amazing but they are the type to wallow in their pain and own ignorance. They don’t want to face what happened to them or they don’t want to take accountability for their part in it, so maybe they had an outburst but they will always come up with excuses for it. They are jaded over this pain, I feel it makes so much impact with how they live, move and make decisions. They are so strong but they are so blinded by this pain or by this anger, they really see nothing but that. It overpowers everything that they are and do. They need to do some shadow work. They procrastinate when it comes to it, they may avoid those feelings because they don’t want to relive that hurt but what they don’t realize is that they’re replaying this pain on a loop subliminally in their minds so they’re technically always reliving that pain! That’s why they’re so jaded, it’s like getting sick of a song but you’re leaving it on replay. They need to get out of their head. They’re in isolation, this person I feel has little to absolutely no friends. They were in some kind of abusive relationship. I don’t really wanna get into that. If they don’t have kids, they’re very fertile!! They barely go out, a homebody and I feel to a scary point and I don’t wanna get deeper into that cos it’s reminding me of myself and what I am having to break out of and baby that shit is no joke and putting that business on here without knowing them personally is just fucked up so I won’t. They have been through some shit but they are beautiful person, their heart is being pulled in so many directions and it’s so hard for them to catch a break and they are dealing with it in a toxic way for them and they need to face their demons. I feel they just need someone to talk too, but I have a feeling this person is locked tighter than a bank vault after a robbery. They aren’t into letting anyone see them, not even themselves, Ugh my heart goes out to them. Words of affirmation I feel is their love language. Fear avoidant attachment style, they’re Virgo like, the highs and lows of the sign honestly, I feel like some are Pisces and some are Virgos. Very feminine energy. They want love but they’re afraid of rejection and getting hurt cos that’s all they know, so they’re afraid to dream bigger and want better for themselves.

🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘

FS III

Animal that represents your FS: Pig Spirit🐽: The numbers 4,7,11,2,& 47 may have some importance. This is the kind of person who is quick on their feet, they give me air energy. They’re very intelligent. They’re not a messy person even tho they have messy moments. They’re fun loving and just want to enjoy themselves while they’re still on this earth. Happy go lucky type of people. They believe that pigs can fly, they dream big but they’re not delusional they understand the concept between reality and fantasy but they have a great imagination and they have big goals and aspirations for themselves. They wanna own the moon one day. They wanna fly the highest they can possibly get. They live on cloud 9!

Auset Describing your FS: Anubis. 3. He’s one of my guides!!!! I love Anubis he’s amazing! Your FS is such a great person! They’re very wise and give amazing advice. They take care of everyone, no favoritism with them, they treat everyone fairly, they judge by action, they feel like your hearts intention is based on how you move. You can protect on them to guide you whenever you need it, anyone who needs help, they are the one to call. So reliable and trustworthy, they may have a lot of people depend on them. Helping them transition from one state to the next. They can even be a therapist some of them, or the dr Phil/oprah of their group. They stand up for what they believe in and who they believe in. They’re a great protector. You will feel so safe, they feel like everyone should feel that way, “has the RIGHT to feel safe.” I heard that. Guard dog lover, they aren’t jealous but they won’t let just anyone get near you. They could’ve been abandoned by their parents (maternal esp if you’re looking for guy). They believe in healing of the soul by living out their passions. They believe that freedom to be yourselves is the best medicine. They want to get to know people for who they are at a soul core level. I feel they have GREAT FRIENDS. Certain LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 energy here, they created their own family! They love caring for others, they feel it’s part of their purpose, some nurses and doctors here. Therapist just doctors or medicators of some kind.

Describing your FS (oracle): A Leg Up. 3,4,7, & 34 could have some significance to your FS. They can be 34 some of them. I feel like they are the type of person to definitely lift others up, they aren’t selfish or greedy about shit, they will share their plate, cos they’re confident in their position. They themselves have received leg ups in life from people and they’re just passing on that energy. They’re not a jealous person at all they’re about progression. Sagittarius energy HEAVY! Sag and Aqua energy HEAVY! They’re very free loving. They’re very authoritative and they know how to delegate, they know how to both give and receive help. They’re not hyper independent they believe in teamwork! I love your FS! They’re my favorite! Shhhhhh don’t tell!

Describing your FS (Tarot): PageoSwords, 6oWands,& Judgement. They’re hella inquisitive and always asking about everything, they love to learn, very Gemini energy. They love to gossip with their friends, I also think that they’re the topic of gossip. Reading is everything to them. You’ll always catch their face in a book. Great conversationalist. Young at heart. Playful. They know how to multitask and juggle many things at a time. Their mind is always racing and they can’t turn it off. They’re a student of the world! They want to learn everything. The type who’s learning how to speak different languages. 6,2,& 20 may have some importance to them, some of your FS in this pile is 20. Some of you????? If that’s the case this is confirmation that you chose the right pile! I am seeing that your FS for some 2-3 maybe are celebrities like well known celebrities! No K-pop I don’t sense that here but I’m seeing some notoriety and some household names being here. The rest your FS is known in their field. Wildly successful and part of that has to do with their success story, how they came up and what they went through their hustle to mask it out of the “hood” or bad circumstances so to speak, they have brown hair, long, wavy, curly and straight, it varies I’m seeing. They are hella influential and inspirational to a lot of people, they’re extremely popular. An important person I’m hearing VIP. The it boy/girl. Everyone wants them, everyone wants to be them. They’re not cocky though, they’re all smiles and laughs, very joyous, I’m hearing for the celebrities, once you meet them and get to know them a little you’ll understand why they got fame. They’re so fun to be around. Fun and bubbly personality. They have loud voice. They’re very in demand. They know how to control a room. How to perform. They’re hella entertaining and I think they’re funny cos I’m feeling the urge to laugh and giggle. They may laugh a lot or giggle. You will find that cute. They’re not all about themselves, I see confidence but I also see that they’re a bit insecure too. They dress nice. They dress and look expensive. This is my glam and glitzy but humble pile. They’re such a fuccin joy. And they’re themselves regardless of what’s happening or who’s around. They are the essence of them and that shit is untouchable. They feel like people should see who they are, to love them and experience them to a full extent. They do enjoy the spotlight on them but I’m hearing they deserve it. They’re so litty. They remind me of me! I’m still feeling giggly and giddy, I feel this is how people feel around them (especially them celebs.). They are accepting too, they don’t judge, they’ve faced a lot of backlash and judgement from being who they are so this is the smack in their faces to your FS, their whole image can be about fuck society and their standards etc. I’m getting rocker energy from this pile so some of them can be famous rockers? I was getting the older numbers like 47, so some of you may have a FS in their 40’s, so what??? You’re all over 18 & you will know this person is your person, I feel this connection between you guys is that of a spiritual one. You can feel their spirit, it’s strong! Their presence is very powerful! This person is electric and everyone loves them! Nothing bad to say about this pile! Not really!

Alrighty my dearies! That’s it for part one of who’s your FS! Thank you for taking this ride with me and stay tuned for good ole part two coming soon!

Hope you have clarity!

Now Spread Love and Light!

EeeP Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 👋🏽

Heka 🕊️🏆

[skrrts]

Hey, are you busy right now? ft. YUNHO (drabble series)

✧ gn! reader x jeong yunho ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, fluff, dating, video call ✧ word count: 692

You tried your best, really, but after hours of studying, you can't read another page. Calling your boyfriend seems like a good idea for a small break: Yunho is always excited to see you, even if it is just for a few minutes and he always will make sure you know he appreciates your time, stopping whatever he is doing to talk to you, maybe admiring you a little.

You were getting comfortable in your bed while the call was going through, snuggling in your pillow until the most handsome face appeared. 

“It’s my favorite person in the world,” Yunho greeted you softly, chuckling when he saw you were in your bed and before you could say anything, the camera went black for a moment and your boyfriend was doing the same.

“Calling the most amazing boyfriend,” you agreed. 

“Hi there, I miss you,” Yunho replied, sighing softly while his eyes were scanning his screen, taking in all of your little details like he had not seen you in a while although the two of you only went on another amazing date last night. 

His soft smile always made you melt, almost shy, the way how his hand was covering half of his face while his eyes were all shining for you.

“Did I make you speechless?” he teased.

“When you look at me like that, what am I to do?”

His soft laugh made you grin a little, half of your face now hidden behind a pillow on purpose, because you knew it would make him pout a little: “Hey, now I can’t see you.”

His features were soft, it was always so obvious how he was never mad at you. Your arms hugged the pillow tightly: “Do you think maybe… you could come over?”

Yes, the plan was to finish this study session but now when you were looking at your boyfriend all soft and comfortable in his bed, you’d rather have him here with you.

Yunho laughed: “Somebody is being needy today but knowing you, you’ve worked all day without a break again and likely skipped dinner.”

He really knew you too well, there was no way to deny it while you glanced over to your books.

“Maybe…? I promise, I made good progress and I definitely qualify for spoiled times with my most amazing boyfriend,” you rolled on your back, legs comfortably spread as you held the phone far above your head.

“I am proud of you,” Yunho whispered. “You give your best and you do not give up. That is more than many do, I will always be here to support you. Then, I might also brag, Mingi says I won’t leave him alone with just how amazing you are.”

Your cheeks were heating up, rubbing a hand over them: “What’s with that? Ah, now you have to come over, no excuses. I need your shoulder to hide my blushy cheeks against.”

Yunho was slowly getting up, you could see how the phone was moving when he was obviously starting to collect his things, he always had a few that were never missing, from his wallet to keys and most of the time, he also brought snacks for you. He really was incredibly mindful and even remembered all the little things you were great at forgetting.

“Well, we cannot let that happen, can we?” 

His happy laugh made your heart jump and you slowly sat up: “Should I prepare anything? Are you hungry? Ah, I will make some space and clean up a little.”

Yunho sighed, looking in the camera: “You relax and wait for me to come over to your place, understood? Studying is a lot of work, besides… your chaos is always cute. It suits you.”

Your rolled your eyes and chuckled: “All right Mister Jeong, I shall behave nicely and embrace my laziness.”

He winked: “Good, I will be over in about half an hour and then we can just see what we want to do. Cooking, cuddling, and watching a movie. Anything will work.”

“And all of it sounds very tempting, as long as I get your attention,” you agreed and closed your books. Yunho took a moment to look at you again.

“I love you, I am looking forward to seeing you soon.”

You two were bad at not seeing each other daily now, it had become a habit and as much as you tried, spending time with him just was the best way to stay encouraged and remind yourself that you wanted to make Yunho proud.

“I love you too.” 

[sensei-venus]

i am more than happy to give you karate kid requests! i just thought you would rather write for the cobra kai characters, so i never sent anything in. with that, would you be down to write something young!daniel x female reader where the two of them sneak out of class to make out in the janitor's closet? a bit smutty but not too heavy, mostly just focused on the kissing? it's a concept i find so hot but there aren't any fics out there for it. 😫 let me know if you get this ask because i know tumblr likes to eat them sometimes. take care!

(Unedited) (Support the Writer🌺) (Young!Daniel being…Young!Daniel??,Kissing, Slight Make out, Slight Grouping, Kissing in a closet at school)

Reader narrowed as she looked across the crowded classroom. Eyes falling onto her boyfriend who sat only a row ahead of her. His head was down as he finished working on his class assignment. Daniel always had a thing for trying to finish every single piece of class work before the bell rang. Because he was to lazy to take it home and do it for homework.

She rolled her eyes out of love for the boy and briefly looked away. In that split second her eyes meet the teachers. The older women sat at the front of the class at her over populated desk. Folders and papers where scattered over the dark stained wood. A large stack of book sat on the very corner.

“Reader would you mind running these up to the front office for me? Someone requested them and seeing as we aren’t using them, they need to be returned.”

Reader nodded quickly and studs up from her seat. She walked down the aisle and row of desks and passed some of her peers, no one seemed to take notice. She picked up the stack of books and tried her best to balance them in her grasp. The large stack wobbled a bit in her hold making her jerk a little. For a moment she thought they would tip out of her hands and fall to the floor. Luckily they didn’t as a pair of strong hands held hers steady. She sighed out on relief as she regained her balance of the heavy books.

A few books where removed and she was finally able to see who the person was who helped her. It was Daniel, he grinned her way as he took some of the books.

“Daniel if you could help her to the office with those? They are quiet heavy.”

“Of course miss! Be right back.”

Daniel gave a cheeky smile to the women before leading the way out of the class room. Reader was slow to follow behind him. The books weighing her down a little. They walked side by side as they made their way to the office.

Daniel smirked at her saying “So did you really need help or did you just want to to rush in and save the day.” He wiggled his brows at her. Rolling her eyes she scoffed “Oh yeah because I needed mister save the day to come to my rescue for some text books falling.” She tried to play off the earlier events. He chuckled at her clearly embarrassed expression.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I love you I would have kicked you in the kneecaps.”

“Baby it’s to late in the day for that kind of violence.”

“Oh lover boy it’s definitely not.”

The trip to the office was quick to say the very least. The front office lady was to busy trying to organize returned piles of text books to even notice them. The two teens just stuffed to each other before setting the books down on the counter and leaving.

The wall back to class was more interesting then the walk up.

Daniel slowly inched closer to her until their shoulders touched. One of his hands snacking around her waist. He was lucky no one was in the hall way because he definitely would have gotten the two of them put into after school detention. He pulled her close, chucking a little and sucked hid front teeth. His lips where right by her ear when he said “How about we make a little detour for a minute. So we can have a little fun~”

Reader wanted to laugh as he tried to pull wool over her eyes. She knew what he wanted pretty clearly.

“We are not doing that in school today-“

“Not that, though I would be down for it. I mean a little kiss, or should I say a little kissing. Plural~”

They looked around for a split second to make sure the hall was still clear before taking off toward the closest janitor closet. Luck for them it was unlocked. Daniel quickly pulled her in and shut the door behind them, he flicked on a old dim light over head. It only brightened the room a bit and put a show of her face as he looked at her. The room was cramped, barely holding them.

Reader grew a little excited as they both tried to stay quiet. Hoping no one would hear them in the closet and get them caught. She had to cover her mouth to stop the small giggle that bubbled out as Daniel looked back at the door for a split second before back to her. He smirks as his hands find her waist again, running up her hips and sides. He bends down a little and moves closer to her. His eyes lidded as he looks down at her.

Their lips meet gently, soft and sweet. Daniel’s lips are soft and warm against hers. Pillowy and sweet and make her melt inside from just their very touch. She wished that she could lie and say he was a bad kisser, but he wasn’t.

Daniel LaRusso was a great kisser. He knew every trick in the book to make her knees week. He used his tricks to silence her every time their lips meet. Playing her like he knew every single button to make she swoon. She feel for it every single time.

Her breath hitched as he felt up her sides and ghosted over her breasts. He smirked into the kiss and swollowed every tiny noice she made. Moans bubbled up from her chest and passsed her lips.

Her eyes fluttering when his tongue slid along her bottom lip asking for entry. She allowed him to part her lips. Their tongues shyly meeting and playing together. Reader gripped onto the boys shoulders as things got more intense. Her nails digging into his shirt as they slam into each other. It’s only a matter of time before they half way part only to go back in. Lips meeting once again.

They are so caught up in each other they they barely register the sound of loud voices out inside the hallway. They jerk back from each other for a moment. Panting out they hold on to each other, a think layer of spit connecting them before it silently snaps. Ending their connection. They both stare at the door intently. Eyes never leaving the light stained wood door.

“Johnny that’s sick man! How did you score that?”

“Shit up man, don’t ask don’t tell. Now come on so we can go smoke this weed. That asshat principle almost caught us the last time we tried to light one up in the bathroom. I want to get one in before pe.”

The sound of Dutch and Johnny slowly faded down the hallway. Only the sound of their shoes lingered in the air.

Daniel coughed lightly, still flustered from the idea of possibly getting caught. Reader zipped her lips tight as she looked up to him. Eyes big and round. Blinking a few times to put on a little charm.

“Man you really try and act all innocent like I didn’t just have my tongue in your mouth.”

“Humm but I think you like that about me don’t you??”

She giggled as the boy sweeper down and smashed his lips to hers.

Starting a sloppy make out session all over again.

[nicomoon69]

since I am a timberkon truther they are canon in my RR au, so here’s a very VERY brief timeline

Tim along with Kon and Bart form YJ, they have their little homoerotic friendship but before either gets to fully process and realize said feelings Kon dies

shortly after that happens Tim starts going to high school where he meets Bernard and Darla and for a while he lives a normal life since Bruce decided to bench him (Cass becoming Robin for the first few months in his place)

during this period, Bernard definitely had mostly unexplored feelings towards Tim while Tim was feeling guilty because he not only felt like he was betraying his feelings towards Kon (which were still present at the time) but also that he shouldn’t pull some random high schooler into his messy life

around half way through the year when Tim gets unbenched and becomes Robin again he comes into contact with the Joker leading to him finally getting kidnapped, tortured and finally killed the last few weeks of school

around the time Tim is missing Kon returns and he ends up not being able to save Tim. at Tim’s funeral he meets Bernard, who he at first resents but is also inexplicably drawn to. after meeting a handful times they had an explosive fight that led to them making out

Kon and Bernard’s relationship starts of mostly like that. they didn’t talk about whatever dynamic they had created and just let it happen. that is until Bernard gets kidnapped or something like that and it makes both of them realize that life is too short for their messy shit and they get their shit together

when Tim does finally return it actually takes Kon and Bernard a very long time to let Tim back into their lives because of what he’s become, but after a lot of convincing from Jason (who Bernard loves dearly) they end up slowly letting him return and finally also end up getting with him

might go into more detail about some of these parts later cause I feel like I can explain more but I’m lazy rn soooo

[luveline]

For your kisses before dinner au, can I request a late night moment, not nsfw or anything just what their evenings are like? ty🧡

ty for ur request!! kisses before dinner ♡ pregnant!reader

You and Steve lie shoulder to shoulder in the dark. 

"You think they're sleeping?" you whisper. 

"I have no clue." 

You're both too terrified to move. Any noise at all risks waking up the girls. If you can avoid waking them up, there's a possibility that you and Steve might get some time alone. 

You have as many little ones as you do because you love them, everything about them, at all times of day. And sure, they exhaust you, but you wouldn't have had them if you couldn't handle it. If you couldn't manage the bad with the good.

You want to curl into a ball on top of him but the distension of your stomach makes it difficult. Baby bumps are made for homing and protection, they aren't super super fragile, but you've always been cautious and that isn't gonna change anytime soon. 

"I miss being able to lie on top of you," you confess. 

"You still could. Back to my chest," he offers. 

"Not the same." 

"If you loved me, you'd use me like a mattress topper." 

You fit together well when you're on top. Cheek to cheek, legs between his legs. Sometimes you hook a thigh up over one of his hips. It can't be comfortable for him and he's never complained, not once in all the years you've loved him. 

It's super Steve of him. He whines about all the wrong things. 

Case in point. "Are you gonna lie on me or am I dragging you?" 

"Can you? I'm too heavy." 

Steve scoffs. No matter what weight you are, pregnant or not, he insists that you're never 'too' anything. "Would you quit it?" 

"I don't want to lie on you like that. I miss being able to-" You shrug, tracing the barely illuminate line of his nose with loving eyes. "To cuddle like we're the same person." 

It's corny. Steve knows exactly what you mean. 

"We are the same person," he insists. He starts trying to turn your names into one, creating a hodgepodge of poorly strung syllables.

He has the unique ability to make you laugh at just about anything. He can get you giggling in the delivery room if he tries hard enough. 

You shift your arm where it's sandwiched so close to his and go searching for his outermost wrist, pulling it to your face for lazy kisses. His palm resting at your lips, you close your eyes and picture the face he's making. He's definitely turned his head to yours, giving you that "you're so crazy" expression he does, like he's startled you'd dote on him. 

"Wanna make out?" he asks. 

You're about to say yes when footsteps sound.

Steve eases up onto his elbow to kiss you sweetly, too quickly, before he takes the end of the blankets into his hand and pulls them over your heads. 

You know exactly who it is from the footsteps alone. Avery pushes open the door, and she sounds almost shy as she whispers, "Are you still awake?" 

"We're sleeping," Steve says back. You laugh as quietly as you're able to, tummy trembling under his hand with the motion. 

"I want to talk to you." 

That's not so funny. Steve moves the blankets back down. "About what, Avey-bear?" 

She's hard to make out in the dark, not with the light from the hallway at her back. You can see her hair, it's bed head frizz, and the ruffles of her nightie at her knees. 

"About anything." 

You snort. All your worry turns to amusement, and affection, and you make space between you and Steve immediately. You move too fast. 

"Be careful," Steve says to you softly, prompted by your little breathless sigh. Lately, your back has felt super sore, like somebody's taken to it with a meat tenderiser. 

"Come and sit with us," you tell Avery. 

She races around to your side and waits for you to pick her up. You would, of course, and you'd hug her to death as soon as she was in your arms, but you'd really hurt yourself somehow and you don't want to make it worse. 

"Come round to my side," Steve says. 

You smile at her unimpressed expression, "I can't move too much. Baby's kicking my spine." 

She gawps at you, tiny white teeth shining like pearls. "She's what?" 

It's important to note that you don't know the baby's gender. Avery says 'she' because her dad does. That, and it must make sense to her — Avery has felt the little kicking feet of two sisters before. It's sad, and silly, but for a split second you feel sorry that the only people who'd ever felt her kick were you and Steve. It had been one of the best (and then quickly one of the most agitating) feelings in the world. 

Avery, big sister extraordinaire, and biggest, bestest eldest daughter they ever made, climbs up onto the bed by herself and positions her face carefully over the hill of your baby bump. "You have to be nice," she whisper passionately, "you're hurting mom." 

You stroke her forehead. "Baby can't help it. She's growing." 

"You said 'she,'" Steve coos. 

"It's easier." You're not sure at all what the baby is. You have no premonitions. No inkling of one guess or another. 

"She," Steve says, "really can't help it Avery, but you're a good girl for trying to protect mom." 

"Thank you," you say, cupping her cheek. 

"You're welcome," she says. 

You're the kind of mom that some little kids can't abide — all you want, all the time, are hugs. You steal them at breakfast and lunch and dinner, in the car, in the garden, in the supermarket. You love to move in behind them and cuddle their unsuspecting shoulders. Lucky for you, they've all grown to return the same affection. Avery, amazingly careful of your stomach, crawls the rest of the way up the bed to the pillows and lays down curled toward you, pulling your arm to her chest for a hug. 

Steve moves onto his side and sidles up behind her. He moves his arm over your two bodies, his hand over your shoulder, his eyes glued to your face. 

"We've done this before," he murmurs. 

You and Steve and Avery and an unnamed baby. 

"Do you think your sisters are sleeping?" you ask. 

"Mm, Beth is snoring again," she complains. 

"Dove isn't this quiet when she's awake," Steve says. 

"Guess it's just you with us tonight, beautiful," you say, pulling the covers over Avery's shoulder. Swimming in bed sheets, she beams at you, really smiles, and her face seems like it's nearly too small to hold a happy that big. 

"What did you want to talk about?" you ask. 

"Everything." 

Steve closes his eyes and pushes his face into the back of her head. You wrap your arm over Avery to bracelet his arm with your fingers. If you're clinging too tight, he doesn't complain. 

[tropes-and-tales]

The Softest in the World

Day 15:  Fingering (Dave York x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event found here! Is it April? Yes. Am I that far behind in posting that it's April and I'm still working through Kinktober requests? Also yes.) 

CW:  Smut (Fingering; talk of masturbation; oblique talk of vague future sex acts); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4102

AN:  This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by an anon!

AN2: Never edited, never beta'ed. I live and die by my slopping typing.

The first Christmas without Carol goes far better for Dave than he ever thought it would.  Of course he misses his wife, nearly a year out from her sudden death.  Molly and Alice miss their mother too.  But the immediate grief—that sharp, cutting pain that left them breathless and stunned—has faded into a more mellow sorrow.  Ever-present, but it doesn’t take Dave out at the knees anymore.

He knows he owes much of his family’s collective healing to you, the nanny he hired months after Carol died.  You’re the one who stepped in and took charge of their lives.  You never tried to replace Carol, but you’ve managed their day-to-day moments and their larger healing.

This first Christmas was your idea too.  A month in Vermont, away from the family home where memories may have been too thick and pressing to allow for any joy.  It had proved out to be a great idea too:  long days sledding and snow-shoeing and building snow forts leave the girls exhausted by evening, too tired to ruminate about their missing mother.

And it allows Dave more time with you.

Usually you only live at the York home when he’s traveling.  You handle their lives at home—drive the girls to and from school, to and from activities.  You handle the maid who comes in twice a week to clean.  You keep the refrigerator full, get the girls bathed and put to bed with a story and a hug each night.  But Dave is never there to see it—when he returns home from his work trips, you leave for your own apartment.

This month in Vermont?  You sleep in the room just down the hallway from him.  You share a bathroom with him, leave behind the scent of your shampoo and soap after you shower.  He hears you each night when you, like clockwork, pad out into the kitchen for a glass of water that you gulp down until you’re breathless.

More than all of that, he has front row seats to how you care for his girls.  You’re tough but fair.  You cut them plenty of slack, grieving as they are, but you don’t allow them to run roughshod over you.  You play with them, you teach them, and you genuinely seem to love them…and they genuinely love you as well.

Him, though?  Dave can’t seem to get a bead on you when it comes to him.  Your ease with the girls disappears the moment the two of you are alone.  You can’t always meet his eye line.  You flinch away from him if he brushes against you.  Sometimes he wonders if you can sense his former double life—if you have some preternatural prey response to being so close to a predator.  But more than once, he’s caught you watching him on the sly.  He’s noticed your heavy-lidded eyes, the way you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

When he cornered you in the hallway a few days earlier, he definitely noticed how your breathing quickened.

Maybe you can sense his killer nature, but Dave would also guess that you are attracted to him.  And knowing what he does of your character, you probably feel conflicted about that.  Guilty.  Maybe even a cliché, the nanny falling for the widowed father of her charges.

If Dave has taken one lesson from Carol’s death, though, it’s this:  life is short, and life can end in a blink.  Why not live while you can?

-----

The day before Christmas is spent in a nearby town.  You plan it, of course, and you layer in fun stuff with all the errands you have to run and make it a family affair.  You take the girls ice skating at a nearby pond.  Dave stands along the rink’s edge and watches you take lazy circles on the ice, Molly’s and Alice’s mittened hands firmly in yours until they get comfortable on their own.  Then you skate over to him, and the two of you watch in silence.

Then there’s hot chocolate at a nearby café, last minute presents for the stockings, and the grocery store.  You return to the cabin laden with bags, and the evening flies by.  You and the girls make flat breads for dinner, and afterwards, you put on a Christmas movie while the girls put the finishing touches on the tree Dave bought earlier in the month.

Dave helps the girls with their evening baths.  He gets them tucked into bed, reads them a story.  He presses a kiss to each of their foreheads, and they are out like a light before he’s even quietly clicking their bedroom door shut behind him.

As he’s been tending to his daughters, you’ve tidied up in the kitchen and living room, and now you’re pulling the wrapped gifts from their hiding spot in the hallway closet to arrange them under the tree.

At the sound of his footfall, you glance up and offer him a smile.

“They out already?” you ask.

Dave chuckles.  “Before I even left the room.”

You smile, brush the back of your hand across your forehead, miming hard work.  “It’s exhausting work, trying to exhaust them.”

“And you manage to do it every time.”  He joins you near the tree, kneels down beside you.

“Sometimes I make them run laps at home,” you reply with a laugh, and maybe you don’t notice your casual use of the word home, but Dave notices.

Dave notices everything.

He noticed, for example, how you stood by him at the skating rink, perfect posture and a tension radiating off of you when Dave moved close enough for his coat to brush against yours.  He noticed the way you ducked your head at the café, how you pretended not to hear the women who sat nearby and remarked on the lovely little family that you, Dave, and the girls made.

He notices now how you lean away from him just a fraction, how you start when his fingers touch yours each time he hands you a wrapped gift to place.  He notices that you won’t look at him, that you keep your gaze carefully fixed on the presents or the tree.  He crowds you closer, plays dumb about it, and he notices when the pink tip of your tongue darts out and licks a wet line along your lower lip. 

Part of Dave—the dark part of him, the predator in him—wants to grip your face between his hand and force you to look at him.  He wants to hold your gaze until it’s too much for you; he wants to stare at you until you squirm and beg him to let you go.  And then he wants to not let you go, your begging futile—he wants to hold you tighter and lean in and draw his own tongue along that bitable lower lip of yours.

He keeps that part of him at bay.  He knows he has to go slow.  Slow movements.  You freeze around him, but if he comes on too strong or too fast, you’ll bolt.  He needs to quiet that prey instinct, make you feel safe.  Alleviate your guilt, if you have any, at being attracted to a widower.

So Dave decides to seduce you instead. 

When you reach for the next gift, he instead grasps your wrist lightly.  He can feel your pulse against his grip, and he hears the breath you draw in.  He holds you like that until you have the courage to look at him, and he smiles at you to put you at ease.

“I’ll finish up,” he tells you, his voice low.  “Why don’t you go get a bottle of wine and some glasses?  We can have a drink on the couch.”

You hesitate…then nod.  It shouldn’t be a turn-on, but Dave loves the hesitancy, then the obedient way you stand up and do exactly as he says.  It’s not hard for him to imagine other things he could order you to do, the same uncertainty before you obey him.

-----

The wine is Moscato-adjacent.  It’s one of those local vintages made with fruits other than grapes, and far too sweet for Dave’s taste, but you had picked it out at the grocery store, so he sips it carefully and hides his winces when the cloying sweetness burns against the back of his throat.

You?  You nearly gulp it down, and he realizes how nervous you are to be here:  alone on a couch beside him, the room dark except for the lit-up Christmas tree and the crackling fire in the fireplace.  It’s romantic, but you’re his employee, and he swears he can feel you flailing out of your depths to find yourself in this moment.

“Easy,” he says.  He stills your hand when you reach for the bottle.  You’ve bolted down the first glass so fast, and Dave doesn’t want you drunk.  He doesn’t even want you tipsy.  He wants just the barest bit of your nerves soothed, but he wants you fully in control of yourself. 

He wants you to be completely, stone sober when you beg him.

“Slow down,” he continues.  “You don’t want to overdo it.”

You laugh, a nervous giggle that spills out of your mouth, and you start to say, “I just…” but you trail off, don’t finish the sentence. 

What were you going to say, Dave wonders?

I just am nervous.

I just think this is too much.

I just think it’s wrong.  It’s too soon.  It’s too complicated.  It’s too unseemly.  What will people think, if anyone ever finds out?

“It’s okay.”  He says it soothingly.  He eases your empty glass out of your other hand, and he sets it down along with his own mostly-full glass, but he does it with one hand—his other, he keeps wrapped around your wrist, unwilling to break his hold on you.

“Mr. York…”  You start, and he hears the nerves in your voice.  He hears the wobble in your words, the faint tremor, but he also swears he can hear desire too—a huskiness to your voice, the slightest rough edge.  And you squirm in your seat, just a bit, but you don’t try to pull away from him.

“Mister York?  Since when did I become Mister?”  It shouldn’t be so hot, you calling him that, formal with the tremble in your words, but then you breathe out his first name—Dave—and you draw it out, and that’s even hotter.

His hand on your wrist, he pulls you to him, tugs your upper body towards him, and you let him.  You go willingly, but your eyes widen.  In shock?  Fear?  Lust?

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, his face inches from yours.  “If you don’t, say so now, and we’ll forget it ever happened.”

The tip of your tongue darts out, licks nervously against your lower lip.  “It’s just…”  You take a breath, try again.  “It’s just complicated.”

“That’s not a yes or a no, baby.”

You huff and offer him a tremulous smile at his use of a nickname, so he adds, “it’s a simple question.”

You hesitate, and Dave wonders if you’re really conflicted about it.  If you’re weighing how your life will change depending on how you answer…

…or if you just don’t want to seem eager, because you nod, then whisper “yes, I do want this,” and when he bridges the remaining distance between you, you’re right there, ready and eager to slot your mouth over his, to part your lips to his searching tongue, to cup his stubbled face with your free hand.

-----

Other men might take you then and there.  They might claim you right on the couch, in front of a dying fire and a Christmas tree sparkling with lights.  They might rush it, make it some sweaty, sad fumble, then parting to each slink to separate bedrooms.

Dave York has always enjoyed the long game.  If he were a game hunter, he would enjoy it better to sit in a tree stand for hours before dawn.  He would relish the cool planning, the stalking, the calculating and recalibrating as needed.

Dave York doesn’t fuck you just yet.  He wants to give you a taste, just a morsel, because he wants you slavering for it.  He wants you looking at him with those wide eyes, that lower lip caught between your teeth, as you beg him for more.

So this night, he only pushes you gently back against the couch as he kisses you.  He lowers himself onto you—lets you feel the weight and heft of his body against yours, lets you feel how he can press you into the couch with his weight.  He lets you feel the length of his growing erection where it presses against your hip, and each little whimper makes him harder.

He kisses you deeply—tastes the glass of Moscato you gulped down, tastes the sweetness of you beyond the tart, sweet wine.  He slides his tongue against yours, licks the inside of your mouth, and he smiles inwardly when you shyly try to do the same.  You are mostly led by him but there’s little movements—your tongue pressing back against his, say, or the upward press of your hips as you search for friction—where you try to lead too.

He braces himself with one hand, which allows the other to roam free.  He cups your flushed face, feels the heat of your blushing.  He draws his hand down, traces a path down your neck, circles his palm there, feels how much he can fit in the span of one palm.  Not because he likes choking—he’s never been into breathplay or anything so risky, but he does like the tame feel of his hand partially around your neck with the feel of your pulse and the ragged breaths you pull in.

Then lower.  He grasps the softness of your breast, and even through the sweater and bra, he can feel your pebbled nipple.  He brushes the pad of his thumb over it, back and forth, and it makes your hips lift up again…and then you groan when you find nothing to meet you, no friction and no touch.

“Be patient,” he whispers in your ear.  He nips at your lobe, darts his tongue against the whorl of your ear, and you whimper at the sensation of his hot breath fanning over you.

He moves his free hand lower still.  He finds the hem of your sweater, snakes his hand under it.  Then he finds the waistband of your leggings.  He sends up a silent prayer that he gets to live in a time and place where leggings are a thing—no tricky buttons or zippers, just an elastic waistband so easy to slip his hand under, and he cups your mound through the soft cotton of your panties.  Dave chuckles near your ear, then lifts his head to look at you because you’re already wet there, the damp cotton cleaving to you as he skates his fingers over you.

“Bad girl,” he whispers.  “Getting wet for your boss.”

He’s watching you as he says it, and he sees the flash of hurt that crosses your face before your pupils get wider and your lips part, as you breathe out a heavy breath.  You’re such a good girl; Dave obviously vetted you before ever letting you into his girls’ lives.  Straight A student, honors, full ride in college.  Not even a speeding ticket in your history.  He bets you’ve never been called bad, never been a bad girl, and it seems to hurt you for a beat before you embrace this tamest step outside of your erotic comfort zone.

Dave has so many more steps he wants to lead you on.  He wants to take your hand in his and lead you into darker, deeper waters.  He imagines spanking you, binding you, blindfolding you.  He imagines twisting your innate desire to please into something sensual; he imagines training you to greet him on your knees.  He imagines rewarding you, calling you a good girl instead, fucking you senseless until you are left overstimulated and weeping, ruined for any other cock but his.

“Is this just from right now?” he continues, and he strokes you through your soaked panties, feels how they are molded to your folds and cleft.  “Or have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t—”

“Tell me.”  He pinches you lightly—not enough to hurt, but the sensation pulls a gasp from you, and your hand flies up to grasp his bicep where his bracing arm is near your head.  “Tell me why you’re so wet.”

“I’ve been thinking about this.”  It comes out a whisper, barely audible.  Tinged in shame, and that’s the first thing Dave will burn out of you.  Guilt.  Shame.  He’ll break you down and tear those useless emotions out of you.

“When?”  Another light pinch, another gasp.  Your hand grips his arm harder, and Dave will see dusty little bruises there in the morning.

“Since….ah, since a while.”  Another pinch, and you add, “over the summer.”

The summer.  When Dave was around more due to his busy period at work dying off.  When Dave ran each morning and returned home to find you cleaning up the breakfast mess, when he shed his sweaty shirt and walked through the house on his way to shower.  When he pretended not to notice the way your eyes followed him each step, and when he pretended like he needed a glass of cold water, shirtless, that he drank down in your eye line.

Bad girl indeed.

“You touch yourself to the thought of me?”  Here he moves his hand, shifts it to slip under the lacy band of your panties, and he’s delighted to feel a strip of damp curls there, happy that you haven’t shaved or waxed yourself bare.  He drags his fingers through them, then finds your clit, slick and swollen, and he touches you lightly there.  Strums you with his thumb and chuckles at the keening whine that tears out of your throat.

“Answer me.  You touch yourself, thinking about me?”

“….yes.”

“Like this?”

“S-sometimes.”

“Not every time?”

You fix him with a pleading look, but you’re barely able to hold his gaze for long.  When he brushes his lips over your cheekbone, he can feel how hot your face is.  This is a challenge to you, possibly humiliating, but also arousing because you continue to lift your hips, chasing the touch you’re desperate for.  Such a soft little thing, the softest in the world, and yet you’ve been touching yourself to the thought of him.

Dave stills his hand, and he chuckles again at the groan of disappointment you make.  “Tell me or I stop.”

You swallow, nod.  “Sometimes I…I have a vi…a vibrator.”

He can imagine it; a sad little tucked-away piece of silicone or plastic.  You probably pull it out in the darkness of your room, ashamed at pleasuring yourself.  You probably bury it under your socks and blush when your hand brushes against it when you’re putting laundry away.

He hums, considers the mental image that rises to his mind.  Your legs spread under the covers, running the toy over your clit, maybe pushing it inside you.  Imagining it was him instead.

Not that different from the times he’s gripped his own cock, stroked himself in the shower or in his room and pretended it was you instead of his hand.

Dave could demand to know your fantasies.  He could make you tell him what scenarios you’ve used to get off to him.  Him bending you over the kitchen counter?  Him fucking you in the shower?  Him sneaking into your bedroom at night, sliding under the covers and slipping his already-hard cock into your tight little pussy?  He could make you blush harder and demand to know these things, but he wants to take this slow, so he kisses you instead, murmurs his thanks, calls you a good girl for answering his questions, and when your face lights up at the praise, Dave pushes one thick finger into you and draws the sweetest, throatiest groan from you.

Other men might take you then and there, but Dave only finger-fucks you.  He goes so slow, eases it out, pushes it back in so you feel every goddamned bit of him entering you.  He keeps his thumb firm on your clit, and just the pressure makes you whimper each time he presses a little harder.

He adds a second finger and feels the delicious stretch as your pussy cedes to him.  You’re unbelievably warm, slick, and your pussy twitches and pulses around him each time he breeches the confines of your body.  It’s tight, but you’re nervous, and each bit of praise—good girl, such a good fucking girl for me, just relax and let me make you feel good, baby—makes you unclench a bit more.  You relax, and you find the rhythm that he fingers you, and you lift your hips to meet his fingers.

When he adds a third finger, you hiss at the thickness of it, the tight fit.  He stills, watches your face for any pain, and when he doesn’t see any, he continues.

Three fingers is a good start to preparing you for his cock, he thinks.  He imagines the feel of pushing into you, mounting you, and he imagines your fingers digging into his shoulders as he bottoms out in you.

In due time.  Now he fingers you, he scissors his fingers inside you and feels the answering throb in his erection each time you whine or whimper or groan, the sweetest symphony of sounds he’s able to pull from you.  When he starts circling your clit with his thumb, when he crooks his fingers inside you, pressing gently until he finds the spot that makes you gasp out his name, but you call him Mister York again, and it unlocks something inside him, the power you’re letting him have over you.  He dips his head and sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, right at the pulse point, and you gasp again.  Your other hand flies up and cradles the back of his head, and you twist your fingers through his hair, but you don’t pull him away—you hold him there, and he licks against the dimpled marks he’s left in your skin, he breathes against the wet line on your neck, and he’ll see a lurid bruise there in the morning too that will make him instantly hard.

“You’re going to come for me,” he growls against your neck.  “You’re going to be a good girl and come when I tell you.”

And his mind boggles at the possibilities with you because you do exactly as he says.  You nod at his order, and you press your hips in time to his searching fingers, and he feels when your orgasm approaches because you lose much of your embarrassment.  You swear in a hoarse whisper against his head—oh fuck, D-Dave, fuck fuck fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna, oh, don’t stop—and you spread your legs wider to make room for his hand, and the lurid sound of his hand working against your wetness doesn’t seem to even register to you.  The entire living room smells like sex and you don’t care, and when you gasp and buck your hips up into his hand, he feels your orgasm break around you:  the pulse of your cunt gripping his fingers, the hot slick of cum that coats his hand, the way your body shakes under his.

He fingers you through it.  He draws out your pleasure until you shove at him lightly, tell him it’s too much, and he stops.  He feels the tension of your orgasm—the arching body, the trembling—leave you, and you lay underneath him, sated and heavy with your release.

Dave draws his hand out from under your clothing, and he straightens the hem of your sweater where it rode up a bit.  Then he fixes you with an unblinking stare and lifts his hand to his mouth, and he smiles at your shocked expression as he licks his fingers clean.  Then, with the taste of you on his lips, he lowers his head and kisses you again—deep and slow, so you can taste yourself too.

“Good girl,” he tells you when he breaks the kiss.  “You’re going to be such a good girl for me.”

[dawnoftime22]

sensory.

| T.S

Warnings: slight sensory problems, self soothing by wearing accessories (watch, bracelet), and sitting on the floor

Summary: It was a planned date day for you and Taylor, but you had seemed off the entire day, until a realization comes across that you were missing something.

Word Count: 2.7k

Category: fluff, comfort

A/N: I am once more, not a professional, I'm only writing this from my own experience :]

| Started on 29/04/2024, 2:10 PM |

| Finished on 06/07/2024, 11:40 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

seven days of comfort.

"To be loved is to be cared for."

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Sun streams into the room with the gentle look of the curtain lining, sending light in to illuminate the glass vases that held any flowers, a beautifully mixed bunch given from you to Taylor, or from her to you.

You let out an exhilarated sigh, staring up at the living room ceiling. Your arm hung off the side of the couch, and the other was on your stomach.

As you count the ceiling lights, you feel the air entering your lungs when you take a deep breath in, and you let it out as a slow exhale. Something was off. But you couldn't place on what it was. Yet, no amount of deep breaths could help you relax.

You felt too light. Almost...too free. The wind touching your skin was too cold, but if you covered yourself up with a blanket or jacket, it would be too warm.

Your hand ran over your face, bothered by it all. Even the urge to simply roll over the couch would not fix the problem. Oh well. You definitely did not do that, but you did roll to your side, your eyes searching the entire room.

The tv on the wall was on, playing an animal documentary. It showed videos of orcas, penguins, lions, and toucans. It got you transfixed upon it for a few minutes, but then you had started trailing off your gaze to your hands, or the small patterns on the wood of the coffee table.

You take a look to the windows, but then saw the absolute brightness of them from the sunlight, so you grimaced and squinted your eyes, quickly looking away from it.

The black spots that scattered on your vision from being blinded needed to be blinked away, and you focus on the floor instead, a small huff escaping you.

Once you got your vision back to normal, you were back in reality. It was then, you realized another thing. It was awfully quiet. The space was only filled up by the commentary on the tv, explaining the description and facts of a sea turtle.

Not that you hated it, you just couldn't focus on anything specific, and it frustrated you. You weren't even bored, it was just...like you were floating. In a bad way. Every position you change into on the couch wasn't enough to satisfy a comfortable feeling either.

Meanwhile, Taylor was in the bedroom, getting ready for your date, sincr it was getting nearer to the time you both had planned for. You already got ready after breakfast, so now you were only waiting for her.

One of the cats, Meredith, jumps up to the couch, curling up next to you. You raise your eyebrows curiously and props yourself up in a sitting position using your arm, seeing Benjamin over by the edge of the carpet, perhaps having been asking her to play with him. But Meredith craved some laziness more than playfulness, so she joins you.

Olivia? Olivia was nowhere to be seen, but she could very well possibly be in one of the other rooms, or in the bedroom with Taylor.

You reach out your hand, and the cat's nose goes near it, sniffing it lightly before you were accepted to pet her. The fur was soft. So soft. Now this, this could be something you can do forever without breaking focus, but that could be because it didn't really need any at all.

Since the couch was starting to make your body ache, you decided to switch to sitting down on the floor. Your back goes against the couch, and your legs moved into a comfortable position.

When you've settled yourself down, your hand reaches up to pet Meredith again, but now it was a stretch to reach her. The scottish fold also didn't seem to move from her current position, so you gave up on trying to pet her again.

In your luckiness though, Benjamin came to save you with his black brown-ish ears by padding over to you and flopping on the floor in front of you, his floof of a belly in visible view.

He gratefully took the way your hand gently ran through his soft fur, and he presses his head into your palm when you got closer to it. The action lightened your heart, and you smile softly, for once getting some type of relief from what you seemed to be missing.

As you were caught up with Benjamin and his fluffy body, over in the distance of your bedroom, Taylor had finished getting ready. Her steps were quiet as she went into the living room, in search for you.

Her eyebrows furrowed when she didn't see you on the couch or the kitchen, a little curiosity setting off in her, but just as she set her arms on the back of the couch, she finds you sitting on the floor, your hand in Benjamin's fur.

Finding such a sweet sight had warmed her heart, and her lips raise up as she gazes at you. You didn't know she was there at all, and you were utterly adoring the little cat, your touch gentle as it purred.

Taylor sees the tv being on, the animal documentary still present upon the screen. She blinks and trails her eyes back down to you, the smallest worry swelling in her heart. She knew you mostly only kept it on when you really needed it in the struggle of anxiety, or wanted comfort, but she decides to not question it for now.

The gentle rattle of some keys led you to turn and look behind you. In your vision, appears the blonde you were waiting for. You could see the softness her gaze holds, just the same as the one you held on the cat you're petting, which now had its eyes closed.

"You ready, or do we have to grab Benjamin with us?" Taylor asks, a giggle softly sounding out from her as she pushes herself away from the couch.

A bright smile quickly raises up on your face and you giggled too, moving to stand up, needing to reluctantly leave Benjamin laying on the floor, who was quite possibly descending slowly into a nap.

You bit your lip, taking one last look at Benjamin before going to your girlfriend. "...Buut...can we sneak him into the restaurant?" You ask, making your way to her. Taylor's eyes flicker from Benjamin's sleepy pose, then to you, a smile gracing her lips.

She shook her head gently, "No, baby," she chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer as she looks at the cat once more. "And he'd be more comfortable here."

You hum softly, your gaze lingering, before you bury your face in her shoulder and your arms wrap around her waist in a side hug. The nuzzle she felt was gentle, but it was one for comfort.

She stares down for a moment, unable to see your face. But her expression had faded into a gentle look of concern. A small somber hum from you like that wasn't something she could just ignore.

It couldn't be because of Benjamin, since you were usually fine with having the cats at home unless it was a big trip or vacation. But today was just a date out. And she couldn't help but let her eyes wander on the tv that showed the animals.

There were currently penguins on the screen, sliding across ice and waddling on the snow, and as much as she wanted to look at it or point it out to you, she can feel your pout in her shoulder, and she instinctively wraps her arms around you, looking down at you.

"...Hey...you okay?" she whispers softly just above your ear, her hand rubbing up and down your arm. You fiddle with her shirt, your fingers brushing across the fabric. Taylor's mind takes note of it, and she tilts her head, peeking at your eyes that didn't seem to make eye contact.

You start off in a hushed, quiet tone. "I don't know...I just feel so..." You trail off, trying to find the words to it. But there was not a single word that could describe it. You simply felt off.

Your shoulders tensed and you let out a breath. "I can't describe it." The slump in your stance against her was a clear sign of your defeat at trying to explain. Her eyes soften, and she smiles gently, her hand continuing its soothing motion.

Now, as her eyes trail over your appearance to figure out what was wrong, she starts to notice something. You were indeed missing something. Your hands were empty of any accessories you'd usually wear. Or any part of you, really.

It seems you had gotten entirely too focused on waking up and being on time for the date, that you had completely forgotten to grab your usual things. No wonder you couldn't see why you felt off. You hadn't even realized it yet.

Taylor thinks about it for a moment, but doesn't tell you just yet. Her hand on your arm goes down to your wrist, feeling it to be empty and seeing it being, yes, indeed bare of anything when she pulls back.

She breathes out a chuckle. It was simply a silly situation, but she leans down and kisses the top of your head as you look up at her, confused as to what made her huff out a laugh.

Your wireless headphones; She had seen you charge it last night, and your watch was left on the nightstand. She smiles softly, then led you to the front of the couch, having you sit down.

"Wait here," Taylor says, giving your hand a squeeze before walking off back to the bedroom, leaving you blinking at her vagueness.

You waited patiently, yet curiously, your eyes traveling to the doorway of your bedroom, but the wall was concealing what she was grabbing, so, instead you watched Benjamin sleeping until she came back.

The wooden floorboards of your home gently creaks when Taylor comes back, walking towards you with just a few footsteps, her heart light with love and care.

"Here, love," she said quietly, standing in front of you. In her hands, she reveals that she had brought you your watch, your headphones, and some...friendship bracelets?

She held your items carefully, making sure they don't fall. Your eyes widen in realization at the sight, and her smile grows wider, glad that the problem came to light easily.

"Oh...thank you," you whispered, looking up at her gratefully and grabbing them one by one, wearing your watch first, making sure it was on correctly. Not too loose, but not too tight.

She watches as you slide on the bracelets, and you notice each of them have a different tightness or heaviness to them, so you had a way of choosing which one you wanted on your wrist, or none at all, to which she didn't mind whichever you chose, only wanting you to be comfortable.

When you moved your hand, it made a light and quiet sound of the bracelets hitting each other, and you were in absolute awe, your mouth opening as you look at your wrist in surprise, then to Taylor, who giggled at the sight of you now moving your hand up and down to hear the light clinks. You had tried the bracelets before, but it was only one of them, so it wasn't much of a surprise.

She moves her hand up to the bracelets, hovering right over it as you pause your movements. She looks to you to see you smiling at her, and she continues on with her movement, her finger stretching one of the bracelets slightly, just enough so that the string keeping the beads together was visible, and she shows that you can slide the beads across the string; a small bonus fidget of sort with the accessory.

You, on the other hand gasped again. Taylor pulls her hands away, letting you try it out. The beads did slide across the string when you stretched the bracelet, and would go to whichever side you tilted it to.

Then, the headphones, she helped you by putting your hair back from your ears and placing it on your head. She makes sure it was connected to your phone afterwards, putting on some gentle music. Nothing too loud or upbeat in case it would interfere.

Taylor checks on your face, and sees how its grown brighter, your grounding items being rightfully back to where they belonged. You were adjusting things here and there, but she was happy you were feeling like yourself again.

She also had given you your earphones for a choice, just in case the headphones on your head felt like it was putting too much pressure. Your heart was almost about to burst at the amount of care and thought she gave to you.

"Feeling better?" she asks with a gentle gaze. Her hands were now on your shoulders as she smiles, hoping you can ease back into the world again.

You nodded gently, and relief flows into her that she was right. You always needed something to keep ahold of you, to steady you, and have you grounded for anything that could easily poke your nerves. Which is why you always took them off during nighttime; for the sake of letting go and to melt into being relaxed. But you forgot to put them back on this morning.

You smile back at her, speaking up again for once. "...I love you," you whispered, gently moving to pull her into a slow hug with your arms wrapped around her waist.

She feels the fuzzy loving feeling grow in herself, her arms going up to your shoulders to return the embrace. "I love you, too, sweetheart." She replied back, having just as much softness as you did. Her lips meet the top of your head in a loving kiss, hoping it'll help calm you down further.

"Are you ready to go, or do you wanna stay?" she asks softly, pulling back just slightly to look at you, her eyes searching yours in case you still felt like you needed to relax.

"It's okay if you wanna stay, love." She said quietly, caressing your cheek with the back of her hand. You were about to melt into a pool of puddle right in front of her with her touch and gentle voice.

"Of course, I'm going...its date day..." You say, and Taylor's eyes squeeze in happiness with her smile. You mirror her expression, moving up to kiss her on the cheek.

She smiles even wider and returns the gesture softly, her lips lingering before she gently pulls you up to stand next to her an lead you to the front door.

"Just tell me if you need anything else, okay?" She says, glancing back at you as you follow her. She holds the keys in her hand, ready to lock the front door once you were out and open the car.

"I will, baby," you whisper, your gaze on her gentle as you look at her with pure adoration, your heart full with love for her.

In the car, on the way to the date, You gently play with the bracelets in your passenger seat, seatbelt buckled in and Taylor driving steadily.

Taylor looks over to your side when she could, seeing the movement. She smiles softly, glad they could elicit some kind of comfort for you, especially since one of them was actually given by a fan, and one was made by her.

The date goes on without another problem, only with loving conversations and soft laughter.

---------------------

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[orion4ever]

qiu and tamarack with an mc that seemingly NEVER gets sick and then one day they are just in bed an entire day with the worst fever, they're loopy and dazed and more prone to crying just because they accidentally stubbed their toe or sneezed one to many times.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this, I am sort of like this. One day id feel fine and then the next day my stuffy nose basically suffocates me lol

I wrote this for Step 2 but if you wanted Step 1 then please do request again!

Pairing(s): Qiu Lin x MC and Tamarack Baumann x MC

🍂🗒️

QIU LIN🗒️

They always wondered how you never got sick.

I headcanon that Qiu gets colds often so they’re curious about what witchcraft or tricks your pulling that make you immune.

So when you do get sick, they are surprised, to say the least.

If you were feeling loopy and saying random gibberish then they can’t help but tease you a little.

“Do you think, If you road your bike..fast enough *sneeze* you could…*sniff* rewind time.”

“…Probably.”

When you do end up emotional maybe after leaving your chicken noddle soup to cool down for a bit and then eating it to realize it was cold

Or

Coughing hard enough that it hurts your throat and start crying. Then Qiu would be so doting and sad that you have to go through this.

They’re an angsty teenager but have the biggest soft spot for you and hates seeing you so miserable and ill.

They don’t try and invade your space when you’re sick since as I said, they are somewhat sick prone.

When your mom has to eventually ask Qiu to leave so that you can rest, Qiu will write notes and slide them under your door and talk to you from the other side.

Or maybe even, cup phones. They see them as childish but it’s just you and them anyway so who even cares?

Once you feel better or at least better enough to rejoin society, Qiu is definitely making sure you get some fresh air.

You owe them the time the two of you missed from being sick and they missed you!

You were sick.

You got caught in the rain yesterday and thought it was the best idea to tough it out after forgetting your umbrella.

Your dear mother had banished you to your bedroom, leaving a bowl of hot soup and some water on your bedside table.

You were miserable, today was such a nice day. The days after a rainy day were always the best so it sucked that you were stuck in your room. You had nothing to do and were spacing out while constantly readjusting your pillow.

You heard noise from downstairs and slumped out of bed and cracked your door open to see who it was.

“I am sorry, Qiu. MC is sick today. I don’t think it's best to have a hangout.” You heard your mother say, sympathetically to your crush.

“Really? They never get sick..” Qiu replied, a confused tone making an obvious appearance in their voice.

“MC got wet while it was raining yesterday-“ your mother explained, her voice becoming more muffled; like she was moving around.

“Aw, man. Ms. L/N, Could the two of us hang out, I promise to “ They’re voice also begun to be muffled up, like the walls were swallowing their words.

You had already assumed that your mother would be true to her word and keep you quarantined until you were feeling better and you hated how much she cared about you at that moment.

You were so drowsy from the medicine, the lights were too bright and you accidentally knocked your hand on the bedpost and everything just SUCKED.

You slowly closed the door and slid down it. Becoming too lazy to bother. You wanted to cry a little, You didn’t cry that often; I mean you were 14. What 14-year-olds cries because they’re sick? Like, please.

You brought a hand to your eye to wipe a stray tear from your eye, I guess you were the rare instance of crying teenagers. Contemplating crawling back to your bed, you suddenly felt the door open a little before something was thrown into your room like a grenade.

The door closing was barely noticed by you as you quickly turned to see what was thrown into your room.

A paper cup, with a string attached to it and leading out the door.

A small smile appeared on your face, your eyes glossing over at the gesture; You already knew who was the culprit behind it.

You picked the cup up from the floor and put it up to your ear.

“Hey. Sorry, you’re sick..” they apologized sincerely.

“It’s fine, really *sniff*” you replied, getting comfortable against the door and talking into the cup.

“I am not used to being sick.”

“I can tell. In the four years I've known you, You have NEVER gotten sick.” Qiu said, a little surprise in their voice.

“I know right, I hate it!”

And the conversation went from there, You two talked for what seemed like hours.

Debated about if you churned premade butter, would you get more butter or if it would turn to milk?

Played hangman with a shared paper that was pushed under the door multiple times.

They hated hearing you cough and suffer and hoped that you got better.

Qiu stayed with you until it was late, promising a fun day at the diner tomorrow.

TAMARACK BAUMANN🍂

She unintentionally babies you so hard when you get sick.

I have a headcanon that Tamarack barely gets sick, mostly due to her just being able to run around in just a scarf and no hats or jackets.

She believes that no one is immune to sickness but when you finally do get sick, she’s a little surprised but is ready to bring you her Omi’s soup and her company.

If you were feeling especially loopy or dazed then she would giggle A LITTLE, but then stop because she felt bad.

“pfft hehe- Oh no, that's not right. I am sorry!”

“…Do you think when you are born, that you’re the youngest person in the entire world?”

When you do get sad and emotional over small things and start bawling over it then Tamarack is so quick to try and help.

Accidentally slam your hand on a table? The table is now moved away for now. The water scratches your throat when you drink it? She’s getting you some tea, you like honey with yours; right?

When you are stuck in bed and have nothing to do, then count on Tamarack to give you some company. She doesn’t even really care if she’s potentially getting herself sick by being around.

She’s bringing stuff from outside and putting it on your table as a gift and chatting with you.

She understands not having someone around your age to talk to and she doesn’t want you feeling abandoned when you’re stuck in your room until you feel better.

And when she eventually has to be asked to leave from your mother, she will be writing you letters, drawing, and collecting forest finds to either wait to give you or give to your mother to send up to you.

She even gets a ‘Get well soon’ card and tries and get everyone to sign it for you.

Which admittedly isn’t all that hard.

You have lots of lovely people around in your life, Tamarack being a special one.

“MC, You are burning up..” Your mother said worriedly, laying the back of her hand on your forehead.

“*sneeze* this is the worst.” You groaned, regretting your past choices up to this point. This morning, you had forgotten to bring a jacket and it was much chillier than you were used to.

“That's why I always remind you to bring yourself a jacket.” Your mom sighed, getting up.

“I will start making you something to eat. I will make you some oatmeal, stay all cozied up in bed and take it easy.” She gave you a motherly smile, patting your knee before leaving with the door closing gently behind her.

You were now alone.

This did suck, You had promised you would go over to Tamarack’s and you hated flaking on your promises.

So you just sat in your bed, twiddling your thumbs. Maybe you could start on assignments right now..? Nah. That was boring, your body’s immune system was already torturing you; let's not add homework to it.

You could draw something? Reorganize? Watch a video online-

Before you could bore yourself to death, you heard a pebble being thrown at your window and moved your attention to that.

You got up from your bed and wrapped yourself in your blanket before stepping over to the small window to reveal...

Tamarack!

You opened the window and received another pebble, barely missing you; earning an apologetic gasp from the ginger girl outside.

"Sorry! I wasn't aiming for you!" she apologized, waving her hand side to side as a greeting. You smiled before moving your face away from the window to cough.

"It's okay, Tama! *wheeze*" You reassured her, leaning on the ajar window to hear her better.

"I wanted to come inside but your mom said you were sick and was quarantining you.." Tamarack sighed before pulling something from her pocket.

You could barely make out what it was, that's until Tamarack got into paper airplane position and aimed for it at the now open window.

You moved out of the way just in time for her to throw it and......

She sticks the landing! The paper airplane flew right into your room and onto the ground. You picked up the white and red lined paper and turned back to Tamarack to open it.

Inside the airplane were a few pressed flowers and a little note.

'Get Well Soon!' was written in big letters; little notes from other people were below it.

'I hope you feel better'-Ren

'Expect me to break into your house soon.'- Qiu

'Make sure to get lots of rest'-Vianca

'See you when you get better!!'-Serenity

and finally, the sweetest one.

'Thinking of you, always! I will keep you company until you feel better! :)'-Tamarack

You smiled big before yelling down from your window. “Tamarack?”

“Yeah?” She replied , looking up with a shy smile.

“You are a angel”

[die-mitri]

idk you have to consider that kabru is 5'6 and underweight. if anything, people who give him abs and muscles are wrong about him lol he canonically starves himself and he's too lazy to work out. from what i've noticed labru fans draw kabru with body hair and nice shoulders, and a couple of them make him trans. i really hope you're not talking about the people who give him a pre-op chest when you talk about those who "feminize" him lol...

No need to be condescending brother, we all love the same guy here!!! I just get annoyed that people seem to mess around with Kabru's masculinity all willy nilly so they can fit whatever ship they like into heteronormative roles.

My point was mostly that people seem to miss the mark and either hyper masculinize him or forcibly feminize him and it's a super weird way to interact with the character.

Idk if ur the person in my comments or someone else, but in case y'all are different ppl, I do wanna make it clear. I am literally a 5'6 poc trans man, who starves himself out of laziness/tunnel vision, is hyper-aware of the people around me, leading to me masking ALL of the time (partially to lead people towards my personal goals). He and I are pretty much the same dude. I'm not talking out of my ass or anything, I'm just projecting(?) my reality onto a character that resembles me in almost every way.

The truth is that Kabru is rather androgynous in both presentation and personality. And that switching it up for the convenience of a ship is strange.

He's not an accessory for the white men of the story. He shouldn't only be relegated to Mithrun's caretaker OR Laios's biggest fan/hater. He's very clearly his own character, with a complex and interesting past and motivations. And if he was with either of them, it would be for a good reason. (I'd like to write a meta on the context of his relationship with the both of them and how it changes throughout the story but that's for another day)

I'm just sick of people taking him (and me) at face value or making up some idea in their head of how he (and I) should be, while ignoring the parts that break the illusion.

We don't have to agree, but I'm definitely not incorrect.

[deakyjoe]

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 12

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her, British, backstory)

Category: coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: Can the two of you fix the damage that has been done? Or is it too late?

Warnings: angst, fluff, talks of injuries, British slang/terminology, strong language, mask is off

Word count: 1.4k (a baby in comparison to other parts)

A/N: Took a break from writing this series, mostly because I was burned out and had lots of uni work to be doing, but also because I needed time to think the ending through to give you all the best of what I’m capable of. It’s not as long as other parts but I feared that if I didn’t write it now then I would never write it. It’s pretty much where I always intended the story to go, just with a lot less conversation than originally planned. There will still be an epilogue after this but for now… enjoy!

When Ghost awoke, blinded by fluorescent hospital lights, and he saw Price standing at the foot of his bed with a deep-set frown... well, he knew things weren't good. It didn't help that you were nowhere to be seen. He didn't expect you to be fawning over him and nursing him back to health or anything. But no trace of you in the hospital room at all was not an encouraging sight.

"Am I dead?" Simon said gruffly, immediately coughing as his lungs clearly had something wrong with them.

Price scoffed. "You wish."

"Damn." He attempted to sit up straight, groaning when pain stabbed through his torso. "Ah, what the fuck?"

"I'd be careful if I were you. You were shot. Several times."

"Nothing new then." He sighed and looked at Price again, a grave look crossing his face. "Where is she?"

The captain hesitated for a moment before replying. "Home."

Shit, that definitely wasn't good.

"Why?" Simon didn't really want to know, too scared of the truth, but he needed to know.

"She was severely injured. Needed better medical attention than we could give her and then some time off once she recovers. She's home now but still in remission." Price checked his watch quickly, clearing his throat when he saw the time.

"Got somewhere to be?" Ghost asked, a sarcastic inflection in his voice.

The captain nodded. "Yes, actually. Already late from waiting for your lazy arse to wake up."

He only grunted in reply and waved his superior out of the room. "Go. I'll be fine.”

"You can go home to her once you've healed a bit more. For now, rest." And with that, Price walked out of the room leaving Simon in silence.

It was okay. He liked silence. Well, more he liked the lack of talking. People talked far too much about insignificant things. Strangely, he missed the sound of your voice chattering about insignificant things. He pushed that thought away and attempted to sleep for a while.

At home, in your flat, you were sick of friends coming over to visit you. Each one seemed to have some form of baked good or casserole and your refrigerator was full to the brim already. You hadn't even been home that long.

The sheer mass of people doting over you was becoming overwhelming in the most annoying way possible. You didn't need them constantly caring for you. Sure, the sentiment was nice enough but you were used to looking after yourself and healing independently. Usually you did it in the (un)comfort of a military hospital or medical tent. Unfortunately for you, you'd been sent home this time and had had no choice in informing your friends of your sudden return back. They just suddenly knew you were there and they were more than willing to help.

"I don't need you to give me a sponge bath." You'd told one with a roll of your eyes, still thinking about earlier in the day when you'd had to tell another that it was perfectly fine for you to drink apple juice and not stick to a strict diet of water.

Honestly, a part of you was enjoying being at home and having time to relax. Even though the cause of it was a little extreme, being able to sit on your sofa all day and watch reruns of old sitcoms as you made your way through every dish stacked in your fridge was nice. Almost... fun.

A part of you longed for something though. Simon. Obviously him. You craved to know how he was doing. When you'd first woken up, a nurse had simply told that he was alive and nothing else. Alive meant nothing. You didn't even know if his condition was stable.

You were worried, to say the least. And even Price wasn't willing to divulge any further information when you'd pressed him for it over the phone. He'd just mumbled something vague and moved on to asking you how you were doing.

It was frustrating. That was for sure.

The days passed and you grew restless, itching to get out of the house again. But you were sensible and followed the suggested instructions from the several doctors that had all agreed that you needed in order to heal properly. It was just a shame that it took so long to happen.

On day, what felt like, one billion of staying at home, there was a knock at the door. And after you'd taken a minute or two shuffling towards it, shouting out a stream of reassurances that you were on your way, you were utterly shocked to find your lieutenant on the doorstep.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before a ridiculous sentiment left your mouth.

"Jesus, is this like those hallucinations you get just before dying?"

Simon said nothing, just the twitch of the corner of his mouth indicated that he had even heard you, and outstretched his fist to you.

In his hand, was an apple.

Specifically, one of the good apples from the farmers' market.

You looked up at him in confusion.

"Peace offering."

That explained it. So, you took it from him and opened the door wider to let him in. You weren't about to turn down a good apple or a peace offering.

Once you'd both settled yourselves into comfortable positions on the sofa, you wincing a few times and growing jealous that he seemed to have healed so quickly, you really took your time to look at him.

You tilted your head to the side and raked your eyes over him. "You're nervous."

"Am I?" His eyebrows raised a fraction.

"Yes." You nodded.

"How can you tell?"

"You scratch at the scars on your face when something is making you anxious."

"Hm." His eyes squinted at that observation, obviously not previously aware that he had that tell.

You moved on, not willing to dwell on that. "Why are you here?"

"Visiting an old friend."

You laughed sarcastically. "Oh, really?"

He shrugged, still as frustrating as ever. "You should've left me behind."

You'd be shocked if he hadn't been so self-sacrificial in previous times.

"Why would I do that?" You asked, lacing your voice with a mock innocent tone.

"Would've been the smart decision." He snapped.

So you shot right back. "Maybe I'm not smart."

"Yes, you are. You're just stubborn."

The words he'd once told you came tumbling out of your mouth. "A stubborn brat you mean?"

"That too."

You laughed again, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're right. I am stubborn. And I couldn't let you die. The idea of you... I can't stand it. So I let you live for selfish reasons. Alright?"

"You should have let me die."

"Shut up, Simon. That was never going to happen." You rolled your eyes at him and grit your teeth when a shooting pain stabbed through your side as you adjusted your position on the sofa.

Simon's hands raised for a second as if about to help you before he lowered them again.

Instead, he asked a question.

"Why not?"

You looked at him to see if he was being serious. He was.

"You know why."

"Maybe I don't."

You sighed. He was so difficult sometimes. Yet, you gave in.

"I..." You trailed off into thought.

But Simon wasn't going to let it go so easily. "You what?"

"I, y'know, I feel..." Your hands waved around as if hoping to grip a coherent answer from the air.

"Feel what?" The slight raise of an eyebrow hinted that he knew exactly what you wanted to say.

You sighed in defeat. "You know what I'm trying to get across here, Simon."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I feel for you. Have feelings. More than platonic. I... care... for you." You cringed at your own clumsiness, wondering when you'd lost your ability to fully communicate with words.

"I know."

You punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Cocky shit."

"I also care for you."

"I know." You scoffed teasingly.

He just repeated your words back to you. "Cocky shit."

The smiles that broke out across both of your faces were indescribable.

Yeah, the two of you were being slightly more awkward about this than usual but it was never going to be easy to just jump right back in to what you used to have. Smaller steps would have to be taken. And you were fine with that. As was he. You’d get there eventually, it was only a matter of time. After all, some things were just meant to happen.

A/N: Thank you all so much for sticking with me through my hiatus! I’m sorry this is a quick resolution but the epilogue is still on the way.