#I never finish anything. I need this to me the one thing I do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whowrotethenote · 3 days ago

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𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: What starts off as a regular Spring Break attending Wrestlemania for Alana, takes an unexpected turn, landing her in a fantasy come to life. The Tribal Chief is in need of unwinding after his victory and he chose her.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Age gap // Profanity // Adultery

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

A/N: This took way longer than it should've, but I'm actually proud of myself for finishing. Y'all don't know how many times I've started writing something in the past and never finish. There's drafts of unfinished everything on my laptop.

This is my first time posting my writing on any platform. I hope y'all like it. I tried to proofread as much as I can, but I'm honestly tired of reading it lol. I feel like I'm going to realize its shit and delete it all.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

“Yeah, probably,” I respond to my roommate Demi, only half as concerned as she is. The Usos are the last thing on my mind. They’re her choice of poison. I’m here for one man and one man only.

I survey the crowd of strangers surrounding us. All in Bloodline gear waiting for the same thing. The Main Event. They all probably spent a fortune months ago just to be in the very same spot she and I stole tickets for.

It wasn’t on purpose. We originally had nosebleeds. We were lucky to even have those, seeing as we snagged them just days ago. The frail older man outside the doors waving a chunk of tickets in his hand, was an angel in disguise. He waved and waved until two tickets went flying into the thick crowd of people all pushing to just get into the main doors of the building.

Demi and I searched on hands and feet for those tickets that no one else seemed to be looking for. Imagine our disbelief seeing them all dirtied and stepped on by the door and they read floor seats. Not just any floor seats. The ones located directly next to the entrance ramp with a clear shot of the ring. Fucking jackpot.

don’t be acting all fanned out when he walks by either

I smirk reading the text my brother sent. Yeah, right. Maybe three years ago, a young Alana would’ve woke up tomorrow morning with no voice from losing my shit, watching the Roman Reigns walk by me. But it's not five years ago. I’m not a teenager in my room waiting at the TV with my golden glove on, throwing my one’s up and giving an acknowledgment he couldn’t even see.

Who am I fooling? That teenage girl, although buried deep, still lives within me. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t have spent the two thousand my dad gave me to enjoy my spring break on a plane ticket to LA, a hotel and tickets to Wrestle-mania 39. I’d be like the rest of the Juniors at my university. Bar hopping in Mexico or in Miami half naked strutting down Collins Ave.

I go back and forth between scrolling on my phone, daydreaming, and loosely watching the matches that come. Before I know it, the moment I’ve been waiting for all night and damn near all my life rises to the forefront.

The lights dim and the first beats of the drums ring loud throughout the stadium, matching the acceleration of my heartbeat. This is really happening. He’s about to come out and walk right past me. Everyone around me pulls their phones out on the ready, accompanied by a roar of screams just as loud as the orchestra performing his music.

Too concentred on the entry way anticipating his figure, I forget I even have a phone. No, I need to feel this thoroughly. No middle man between me and this unforgettable experience.

We all wait in collaborative angst until his tall figure emerges and my breath gets caught in my throat. The aura and the energy he carries is all consuming, demanding the attention of every person present, even his haters. Solo and Paul flank behind him following his slow and steady pace until he comes to a hard stop.

The cameraman is dangerously close as he kneels to catch him from an angle down below. This is so surreal. On cue his pyro lights fire, upping the excitement from the crowd if even possible. Everyone is already losing their minds. Even Demi’s screams threatened to take out my right eardrum despite her main infatuation resting with the Usos.

His mesmerizing eyes scan the crowd with a slight nod of approval and then they land on…me? Time stills and I can’t hear the noise around me. Was he staring at me?

As much as I want to look around for confirmation that his eyes are indeed locked on me, I’m hypnotized. The slight scrunch of his brows and his dark pupils paralyze me in place. Jesus, Lana. Move. Smile. Wave. Shit, do something.

He’s fucking beautiful. Carved from stone. Kissed by the sun. Hair wet and hanging. Ula Fala draping perfectly around his neck. Full beard with a hint of greying. And his chest. God, his chest. His abs rippled perfectly. I’m scared to even blink, at the risk that I’ll miss something.

A thick pink tongue slithers out over his lips and I heat up from the inside out. My god.

In a flash he looks onward to the ring on the move again and the world returns to its original state.

I turn to face Demi whose eyes are wide like a saucer. “Biiiitch,” she drags out and we break into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, so I’m not bugging?” My brows dent.

“No. No, I saw it too,” she assures me. “That man was definitely eye fucking you.” My face heats replaying the scene back in my head. “That was so surreal. He’s so much bigger in person…” Her voice trails off once I get lost in my thoughts watching him hold his titles up in the center of the ring. He moves like a king. Like everywhere he goes he expects everyone to bow gracefully and fall at his feet. It makes him even more attractive than just what the eyes can reach. Fuck me. This is going to be a long night.

Demi got her wish. The Usos came out but their stunt didn’t last too long due to an appearance from Sami and Kevin. Somehow, Roman still took home the win. Still the champion. Still on top. Still the man.

The whole match, I could only half way focus on him and his god-like figure moving about in the ring. The other half of me was still stuck in the moment we shared during his entrance. Was he really staring at me?

Call me delusional, but I swear he looked at me two more times. Once during the match, when he kicked out at the last second of Cody’s pin. He struggled to his knees and rested back on his heels to scan the crowd. He stumbled to his feet, but not before those eyes bore a hole into mine for a quick second. Then again, when he won. He held up his titles, chest heaving up and down, then he looked my way with a squint.

“I can’t believe he still won,” Demi practically has to yell as we ease our way through the crowd to leave. “I was sure it was game over when Sami gave him the boot.”

Simultaneously we push through the back entrance doors and let them slam behind us. The slightly chilly night air of April hitting. No more screams. No more crowds. But the rush and aura of the night still lingers on us.

“My man doesn’t take L’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly with my chin up.

“I see,” she laughs.

We were smart. We took an Uber and told him to let us out from almost three blocks away. We follow that same pattern now to avoid the rush and traffic of everybody trying to leave at once. Towards the opposite way of the parking lot, away from the crowds, we start our journey to a quiet block to call the Uber.

“Wanna hit it?” Demi extends her hand that holds a lit blunt in between her fingers. I shake my head.

“How the hell did you even get that thing in?”

“Tampon,” she informs before pulling from it. Of course. She’s been sneaking weed into parties that way since we were freshmen.

“Excuse me! Ladies!” An authoritative calls from behind causing us both to stop in our tracks. I know that voice. “Excuse me!”

Demi and I lock eyes and at once we do a complete one-eighty to find him practically chasing us down.

“What the fuck?” I hear Demi murmur before he stops in front of us winded.

“Ladies,” he offers one firm nod. “My name is—’’

“Paul Heyman,” we finish for him in unison.

A smug smile adorns his chubby face. “That’s right.” He holds a hand out and we both just stare at it for a while. After several seconds of an awkward and shocking silence, Demi abruptly shakes his hand and I follow her lead, still trying to make sense of this moment.

“I’ve been sent to relay a message. The Tribal Chief has requested your services for tonight.”

“Services?” The line between Demi’s thoughts and what comes out of her mouth has always been very blurred.

“Yes,” he confirms. In unison we turn just our heads to each other with equal expressions of confusion and disbelief. “You see, The Tribal Chief likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road from time to time.”

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

“Especially on nights like tonight. You know?” I raise a brow. “All the adrenaline, excitement, and energy from tonight’s match. It's good for him to uh… blow off some steam and unwind.”

I lose count of how many times Demi and I have to exchange looks tonight. Since I’ve met her we’ve always spoke a nonverbal language only we understand. A subtle head nod in the direction of a cute boy in the room, an eye roll when somebody says something problematic, or wide eyes when someone spills tea that we know we’ll have to debrief about later. Tonight, our eyes dance in a mutual agreement that can’t be any clearer. “Hell yeah,” I speak for the first time.

Demi tosses the lit blunt and we both advance to follow him. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Just you.”

“Me?” I ask with a finger to my chest. He grins slyly nodding.

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

“I’ll need an answer now. Gotta get you to his bus before the real crowd emerges. There’s a few things you need to sign.” Sign? Oh god. This is getting serious.

“M—maybe this is a mix up. Are you sure he asked for me—”

“Bitch.” I’m interrupted by a firm push from Demi toward Paul. My eyes meet her wide ones that scream, “go.”

I look between the both of them. “You’ll be fine getting to the hotel?” I’m not all the way certain how tonight will go, but I have a feeling I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow.

“Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ll always get where I’m going. I should be the last thing on your mind.”

“We can wait until her Uber comes?” I eye Paul who eyes his watch briefly.

“Sure.”

So we wait in silence. The whole time, I bounce the idea of just saying never mind and pussying out, back and forth like tennis. Reading my mind, Demi would eye me and mouth “don’t you dare.” So many things can go wrong. I’m not even entirely sure I know what the hell Paul is talking about. Company? Services? It could mean so many things. Does he want to talk? A massage? Am I going to just sit there on his lap while he watches TV? What if he’s one of those foot guys? Is he going to touch himself while I sit there barefoot? Oh god, please don’t have a foot fetish.

With the exception of tonight, I’ve only ever seen him through a screen. Playing a character. I don’t know him. That’s the reality of it. Am I really about to follow a stranger, Paul Heyman, to accompany another strange man?

After checking that she has the right Uber and sensing she will be safe alone with him, I let her hand go. She gives me one final look before I let her shut the car door. “Make him remember you, bitch.”

Like a farmer leading its cattle to slaughter, I follow him as he leads me up the steep steps of the bus. A pit of something stirs in my stomach the deeper we walk. Equal parts angst and doom. Like the end of something and the beginning at the same time. We pass the driver’s seat. The floors are a shiny mahogany wood, matching the cabinets of the kitchen area we end up in. Although small, it feels grand. Definitely doesn’t seem like a space this chic belongs in a bus trailer. I guess only the best for the best.

In the midst of admiring the space, I look over to see Paul shuffling some papers around.

“Alright! So I’ll need you to sign this.” He separates one stack from the main one and slides a pen out for me. “Just something that says we’re not responsible for any items lost, damaged, or anything like that.” Everything in me screams to read the thick stack thoroughly before I dare sign my name on the dotted line. I do it anyway, because who even has time for that? Paul is already moving about like he has somewhere to be.

“And this here,” he pushes the signed paper out the way and slides another stack in its place. This one much thicker than the former. I raise a brow. “Don’t worry. It's just a non-disclosure. Nothing discussed, seen, or heard after you sign can be shared with any other persons.”

I look for the expiration date of the legal document and don’t find one. I search and my eyes land on the word indefinitely.

“Indefinitely, huh?” I think deeply about what I am about to agree to. I would only even want to tell Demi and a few other girls from our bookclub maybe that watch WWE. My eyes land on the seven figure lawsuit terms if the NDA is breached. I weigh my options. Spill tea and get fined or secretly get intimate with the man of my dreams…

The pen is smooth as it glides along the dotted line and I cap it before handing it back over to Paul. “Perfect.” He takes it and reorganizes the papers. I blow out a breath looking around again. There’s a grey curtain blocking off the rest of the bus, which I assume holds a bedroom of some sort and a bathroom.

“Is he already here?” I lean to try and get a peak of whats beyond the curtain.

“Nope. He’s doing a bit of press and wrapping some things up backstage. You’ll wait for him here. The driver is inside the building. Probably won’t be back until late tonight. Roman should be back soon.”

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

“Totally up to you. I’m sure you and him will figure it out. It’s not like him to spend the night alone though.”

In that moment it becomes clear what I am here to do. My heart lurches at the thought of just sharing a bed and possibly cuddling with him. His big muscular arms wrapped around me. The heat of his breath on the back of my neck and the hardness of his di—

“This wasn’t on the NDA you just signed, but,” he held his hand out between us. “I’m gonna need that phone before I leave.” Of course. I almost change my mind. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back as soon as it's all over. Definitely before you leave.”

Fuck it. I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and he gladly takes it. I don’t need it anyhow. I can’t imagine being in the presence of him anyway and my phone stealing the show. I would forget I even had one.

It's not long before he’s packing everything up, preparing to leave me. A small part doesn’t want him to go. He served as sort of a comfort. Truth be told, my heart is in my ass.

He pulls the curtain back to reveal a chic bedroom set up. If I didn't know any better, I would think we are in a five star hotel and not a bus trailer.

Everything is a sleek grey with undertones of black. Glossy black wood dresser chest and a matching nightstand. Black wood bed frame and headboard. I run my hand along the dark grey duvet thats just as soft as it looks.

“I’ll be on my way. You’ll probably see me tomorrow or later tonight. If not someone else will give the phone back.” He waves my phone and turns, but not before pulling the curtain back to close.

I’m all alone now. Theres a flat screen mounted opposite the bed, but the noise won’t do anything but make me more anxious. I want to be able to hear everything going on.

I have the weird urge to go through his suitcase I see sitting upright by the wall. I shake the thought away knowing it's an invasion of privacy. I opt to go through the dresser chest instead. Its empty. I guess he didn’t get a chance to unpack.

I turn and rest my butt on it, crossing my arms. Minutes go by, and what seems like an hour passes before I hear movement outside the bus. Deep voices talking and then I hear heavy steps heading my way. I straighten up. No, too formal. I sit on the bed legs crossed. No, what am I? An escort?

I stand again and take my original place leaning on the edge of the dresser, just in time for the curtain to pull back. The sight of his large stature so much closer to me than he was in the arena takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me and walks right by me to his suitcase. Then he’s in the bathroom. The sound of him peeing is loud followed by water running.

Big, tan and burly, he emerges again. He moves with power just oozing off of him, with an authority that just screamed, “I’m in charge.” It's not just a ring persona. Thats just him.

My eyes never leave his tall frame maneuvering around the small space as if I’m not even standing here. He kicks the Jordans off his feet to slip into his slides. His Nike hoodie comes off next and he tosses it on the small loveseat in the corner. His big and cut arms now in full view.

He relieves himself of the contents in his pants pockets. Wallet, keys, some loose change, and a small folded paper all fall on the dresser. He stops for a moment holding out his left hand. He twists the black band off his ring finger and places it in the drawer instead of on top of the dresser with the rest of his things.

Our eyes snag and I immediately shift my attention to my fingers. Twisting and untwisting. Picking at the acrylic on my nails. Anything but looking him in the eye after witnessing that. It's not too late to change my mind. I can stop this. I should, but do I really want to?

The sound of his slides lets me know he’s on the move again. I find him by a minibar area I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Is it cold in here?” His deep voice cuts through the silence. It's then I notice I was holding and rubbing my arms as if I was cold. So, he is paying me some kind of attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to keep the goosebumps from a slight panic attack at bay.

“No, it's fine.”

“You feeling alright?” He twists slightly with a raised brow. Probably trying to figure out why I haven’t moved an inch since he walked in here. He’s so calm and cool. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the calmer he is, the more anxious I grow.

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

“Yeah—yes,” I correct myself and clear my throat. I don’t know when it became so damn dry.

I was speaking to his back. The muscles still making themselves known even through the fabric of his black tee. Hair sleeked back into his signature bun. My eyes trail down to his ass. For a man, he has a nice one. I image how he’d look with nothing. The intimacy of him walking around with absolutely nothing on. The afterglow of sex on him. Rock hard abs and tribal tattoo as his only decoration. His manhood swinging freely, semi-hard even after just laying serious wood—

“Then I assume you know why you’re here,” his deep voice cuts my nasty daydream short.

I can hear him maneuvering glass, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing over his big frame. I was too shell shocked to move too much, afraid I might wake up from this fever dream.

“I do,” I answer him.

If my father knew when he gave his only daughter, his princess, money to enjoy her spring break, that she’d end up alone in the bus of a man who was over ten years her senior, the money would’ve never made it into my hand in the first place. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but truly this was the best way a young girl could enjoy spring break. An unexpected encounter with an older and wealthier man. My idol. I watched him on TV for years. Gawked at the screen. Liked thousands of edits on Tiktok and Instagram. Dreams of this very moment knowing it couldn’t possibly ever come true. And now here he was. Big in stature and energy right here in front of me. Talking to me.

Hell yeah, I know what I’m here to do. Even if he didn’t utter a single word and just stripped and nodded to the bed, I’d still get the job done with no shame. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t?

I can hear them now. But he’s married. He has a family. He’s old enough to be your father. They just won’t understand. Demi would. Demi would get it. She always gets it and she always gets me. Having lost her father and sister in a car crash just weeks before moving into the dorms for college, taught her that life was indeed too short. Live freely and take risk, because you don’t know when you won’t be able to. Shit, we’re all gonna die anyway. That’s the mantra she lives by. She’s different and that’s why I attached myself to her. She’s not like everybody else who lives like they’ve already walked the steps to heaven.

This was a more than seldom, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d think about this night when I’m grey and depleting on my deathbed. I won’t let my head play tricks on me with the opinions of anyone who would do the same thing put in my position.

It's silent again. I hear liquid being poured for a second. I wonder if Demi made it back to the hotel okay. She’s probably blowing up my phone with a thousand texts trying to figure out whats going on.

So deep in my thoughts I don’t realize he’s making his way to me until he’s right here already. I have to look up to meet his gaze as he stares down at me over the bridge of his nose. He’s so big. He smells divine. It's a masculine type of musk with a cleanliness to it. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing exactly how close we are. Our shoes were just shy of an inch from touching. My chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move.

Without any words, he holds a glass filled with brown liquid out closer to me. I look down at it with just my eyes. I’ve only been twenty-one for two weeks. Didn’t even get the opportunity to sit at a bar so a man could offer me a drink before trying to sleep with me. Who would’ve thought the first offering would come from him. Roman Reigns. Just at that thought, something in me ignited.

I took it, with the intention meaning more than just accepting the drink. I’m accepting the situation. Drawing a line in the sand and disposing of any doubt if there even was any left. I’m doing this. All complications pushed to the back. Tonight he’s not Joe Anoa’i, the married man with five kids. He’s Roman Reigns, undisputed WWE Universal Champion, The Tribal Chief, Main Eventer, Head of the Table…And I’m his biggest fan.

I throw the contents of the glass back, trying my hardest not to make a face from the burning sensation. He gets it down in one big gulp, putting me to shame, as I can’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. He’s still just inches from me. I can see every hair on his beard. The slight greying ones are my favorite.

It's so weird seeing him in this state. So lax in his own space. No ring gear. No mean scowl. No Ula Fala around his neck. No championship belt around his waist. Just him. Black tee and sweats to match.

He takes the glass back and places them both behind me on the dresser top. Without warning, he’s on me. His tongue shoves past my lips saying to hell with formalities. No warm up. Straight to business.

“Mm,” I groan from shock. My natural instinct from being so caught off guard is to create some space, but a firm hand gripping the base of my neck keeps me in place.

He immediately asserts dominance, caressing every part of my body his hands can reach like he owns it. My neck, my shoulders, my back, and all the way down to my ass with a firm squeeze that separates my pussy lips. All the while still assaulting my mouth with his warm tongue. The tang of the alcohol still lingering. I fight for some control in the kiss but it's no use. He’s too much for me.

Everywhere his strong hands make contact, it leaves a spark until my whole body feels like it's on fire. Damn, that drink was strong. He pulls away from the kiss completely after one last soft, open mouthed peck. Like a magnet, my eyes find the thick bulge in his black sweats and I grow even more excited.

He drops to his knees in front of me and my breath hitches when his cold fingertips find their way up my shirt. A trail of kisses with a slight tickle from his beard follow up and up until I raise my arms for him to take the shirt off completely.

He’s back on his feet, turning me so my back is facing him. My breathing grows erratic. This is really happening.

“Lights,” his voice rumbles behind me. The bright lights turn off but there's little lamps set up in the small space allowing a cast bright enough to see still.

The black lace bra I wear is unhooked in a matter of seconds. Who knew when I put it on this morning, that Roman Reigns himself would be taking it off come night. With a firm grip on my hips he turns me back to face him.

Being well endowed up top from such a young age, my natural instinct is to cover myself. I always thought they were a bit big for my body. Standing at five foot seven, I was only one hundred and fifty pounds. A lot of my weight being carried up top from these double D’s. When all the girls in middle school were just filling in, I was a full D cup. I noticed how boys would stare. Older men too. It would make me uncomfortable. Always thinking of ways to cover them or make them appear smaller.

Avoiding eye contact is useless. His eyes are like magnets. Like the sun. Just beaming down on me, making them impossible to evade. So I stare back at him. We stay like this for a while. Just watching one another in silence. The air is smoky with lust and pure ecstasy.

His hands cover mine and slowly drag them down to reveal my breast. Round, surprisingly perky, with fully erect chocolate nipples, creating a contrast to my caramel complexion. They steal the show as his eyes shoot to them immediately while he breathes deep from his nose.

I can feel his energy shift from passionate to pure animalistic. When his entire mouth covers one nipple, I lose all my sense. My head rolls back and instinctively I bring a hand to the back of his head. A rough hand cups and caresses my breast while he’s still latched on. I watch in awe as his thick tongue sticks out to flick and play with it before sucking again.

He’s expertly unbuttoning my jeans with his other hand as I feel the snag of him trying to pull them down. I step out of my shoes to help him and reveal the black thong I am not even accustomed to wearing. I’m more of a a boy shorts or Walmart pack panties kind of girl. I just so happen to have forgotten to pack them and had to borrow a pair from Demi.

Bending down must be uncomfortable, since he grips the back of my knees to hike me up like I weigh absolutely nothing. He gives more attention to my chest, sucking until my nipples are sore, before his tongue is in my mouth exploring again. We’re moving now, I assume towards the bed. With every step, his erection rubs against me leaving me clenching and needy.

My back meets the unbelievably soft bed. I practically sink into it, watching him rear back to remove his shirt and show off that god-like body. Mountains and valleys of muscle in his abdomen placed perfectly like someone sculpted him with their bare hands. His bun hangs a little looser now.

His long fingers loop the waistband of my panties and we lock eyes. His stare is intense saying what his lips didn’t. I nod once. I’m doing this.

Almost in slow motion he pulls them down my legs, his eyes not leaving mine until the very last second. His attention is stolen by the sight of me down there.

“You’re soaking.” He uses the butt of his thumb to circle my clit. I jump slightly at the sudden contact. “That’s all for me?” He locks eyes with me again, expecting an answer and all I can do is nod frantically while biting down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t keep still. My body is on fire under his touch and his gaze. Eyes dark with passion, he squints watching me squirm every time he speeds the rhythm of his thumb up or down.

“Fuck,” I move my hips to the rhythm of his hand and grab one of my breast.

His thick tongue snakes out to lick his pink lips like he did earlier in the arena and I almost cum on sight. I look on in shock watching how he licks his thumb clean like he just ate Doritos and he’s discarding the remnants of them. A small groan of pleasure leaves his throat. I must be dreaming.

Climbing off the bed hastily, he tugs his pants and red briefs down at once and his dick pops up on recoil. My pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for her next guest. Long, thick and tanned just like the rest of him. Mouthwatering. I never had the urge to taste something so bad in my life.

I can tell there’s no time for that though. He’s anxious now. I can feel the heat and need radiating off his body as if his stiff, vein-filled dick didn’t already tell on him.

With a tight grip on my ankle, he flips me over abruptly. Of course. Missionary would’ve been way too intimate for the circumstances.

On instinct I get up on all fours, deepening the arch to an almost painful degree so the view is nice for him. A smack so hard I jerk forward a bit, lets me know he’s satisfied with what he sees.

“All this ass,” he mumbles rubbing my behind in circles and even giving it a little shake.

He runs his long fingers up and down the slickness with ease. A groan leaves my throat as I grow impatient. I know I should want this to last as long as humanly possible, but I can’t fight this storm inside of me. I’ve wondered too long about it, daydreamed about it, and even touched myself in imagination before at the thought of this man I only knew through a TV screen.

I sway back and forth slightly waiting and listening to the sound of a wrapper and a slight pop. I have no time to prepare. The bed dips with the weight of him back on it. His thick head is at my opening, rubbing from my clit to almost my asshole. He only does this three good times before I’m practically ripped apart.

“Ouu!” A mix of a moan and something I’ve never heard from myself fills the room. He roughly takes the hand I thought I would use to push him and pins it behind me.

My throat goes dry. God damn. He’s fucking huge and unforgiving. Even with the slow pace he’s pushing into me combined with my wetness, it still feels like he’s breaking me apart from the inside out.

“Breathe,” he coaches. If possible a gush of wetness rushes out from the sound of his voice, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I have to make it work for him.

I bite down on the expensive grey covers as he pulls completely out and then back in. “Mm!”

He finds his rhythm, as he’s able to glide in and out. I try to match him once the pain subsides. I glance back to catch his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. The muscles in his chest working as a sheen of sweat starts to form.

I work harder now. The sight of him turning me on more than ever, opening me up like a wildflower.

“Let me hear you. I wanna hear you,” he grunts out almost desperately. The vulnerability in his rough voice drawing more heat and wetness from my core. I moan louder than I intended and shock myself. I’m not usually verbal in bed. Maybe a little cry or whimper here and there. This shit feels too good to be demure and delicate about.

I obey his order and release the moan that I didn’t even know I’m suppressing. It's not forced or fabricated. I genuinely feel so good in this moment I can only moan in response.

His strokes are primal. Animalistic like a lion in the wild taking whats his. And he’s so fucking big. In aura and size. The ways his body envelopes mine makes me feel smaller than I really am. His thickness stretching me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Oh, fuck!” I yell out. His hand tangles in my hair and stretches my gaze up, giving him full view of my desperate face.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he demands.

“Oh my god,” I pant. “It's so fucking good,” I struggle to get out. Every thrust steals my breath. He aims for the perfect spot every time and doesn’t miss. The smack of our bodies colliding ring loud in the silent space.

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere. You feel so good! Unh!”

“Atta girl.” The rumble of his voice sends a vibration straight to my core. My pussy clenches down from his words. To add insult to injury, a large and slightly calloused hand finds its way up my stomach to cup my breast. He pinches, twists and rolls my nipple around like he’s playing with a toy. As if my pussy isn’t becoming dangerously wetter already.

He removes the hold in my hair, trailing to my hip. His thumb presses down hard while guiding me back and forth on him. He gives me his all and I return the favor, using the unstable grip I have on the duvet to leverage me as I throw my ass back on him to catch.

The friction of his balls slapping sloppily against my clit built up enough pressure for a pending orgasm. With one strong hand still on my hip, he uses his free one to shove my face down to the bed making me lose any power I had in this fight.

His front collides with my ass, causing a consistent slapping. Anyone walking on the bus could easily tell whats going on now. His grunts, my pants, the consistent slapping. These were sounds of fucking.

“Fuck me! Yesss!” I don’t recognize myself. He’s awakening something in me. A familiar tinging stirs in the pit of my stomach. If he keeps on, it won’t be long until I explode all over his thick dick.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

He goes harder than ever before, his strokes less uniform and more wild. My mouth falls wide open at the intensity and perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

His hips continue to snap against me and if possible I feel him grow harder inside me. His fingertips dig into me so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow.

“Urghh!” A guttural moan erupts from him, urging me to fuck him through his release even as his movements slow. I study his facial expressions and record them in my brain to take home with me as a souvenir. He stretches his neck with eyes shut tightly. That fucking tongue. Whisking out to flatten over his top lip before he bites down on his bottom one. Chest heaving up and down with the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath.

“So fucking good,” he says more to himself. He delivers another hard spank to my ass before I feel him ease out of me, hissing slightly at the sudden disconnect and absence of him. The pit of my stomach heavy still with the lingering orgasm that was cut short.

I’ve had sex with guys before and never got to finish. I’d leave unsatisfied and almost regretting the encounter completely. This is different. I’m here for him. I’d fulfill his needs and drain him even if it meant I left with nothing but a wet ass.

The bed creaks a little, letting me know he got up completely. Just when I think the night is over, my mouth falls open at the sensation of his hot mouth covering my entire pussy. His tongue slithers out to graze my distended clit.

“Mm, shit,” I cry out, shaking. I’m so sensitive. Any little sensation sends my body into overdrive. Every lick draws a mini release. When I finally get to the edge I know I’ll fall completely apart. The hair from his beard tickles me, only heightening the sensations. I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

A strong hand comes down on my left ass cheek and I whimper on impact. He squeezes it in a firm gip to move me up and down in a steady rhythm on his flattened tongue.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I cry. I let my head hang down unable to keep it up any longer. All I can do, feel, and think about in this moments is how good he feels to me. Guys my age always need a crash course on how to eat pussy. Always too much spit, they couldn’t find my clit, or the torturous shaking of the head like a rabid dog.

Roman is eating me like I’m his last meal. Touching spots I didn’t even know a tongue could reach. With the way he’s grabbing me and rocking me on his stiff tongue, he’s damn near fucking me with it. We’re two complete strangers. The power dynamic is completely off. He’s the billionaire WWE superstar and I’m the underpaid and overworked fan in college. Somehow he’s still taking the time to worship my body and give me his all as if he’s the one who has something to prove.

The dick was mind-blowing. Oh, but the head will be the death of me. That same tongue he wags and flicks on live television, exploring me. Tonight is an absolute fairytale. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he could read my mind. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it.

In only a matter of seconds a tornado of heat swirls in my core. I rock back and forth on his mouth before he sucks relentlessly on my sensitive bud nonstop.

“Unnhh!” An uncontrollable shake erupts from me as I see stars. The world goes completely blank for a while as I relish in the ecstasy of my orgasm granted by the Tribal Chief himself. Tonight, I acknowledge him and his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in between pants coming to my senses. A small laugh leaves my throat at the way I just lost myself in front of him.

I turn to find him in the middle of snatching the cream covered condom off. His big dick bobs up and down from the snatch, fully erect again.

We got one night only.

Like a lioness on the prowl in the jungle, I eye him, crawling to the edge of the king bed where he stands. I stop just in front where my mouth aligns to his thickness, still eyeing him, making sure it's okay. He nods giving me the green light and even holds the base in his strong hand to bring it closer to my lips.

I let a glob of spit form and fall freely on his thick mushroom tip. Before it can drip, I catch it on the underside and lick from tip to base, to the tip again. His hips push forward impatiently.

“Open.” It's not a question so I don’t test him. His face is hard, but his eyes are desperate. As soon as my lips part he shoves himself all the way in like he owns my entire mouth. He draws out and I hallow my cheeks to keep it in as long as possible until I release him with a pop.

“Stick your tongue out for me.” I oblige and he slides his heavy dick across it gathering spit before pushing back down my mouth. A pulse grows in my clit again. A revival from seeing the remains of the mess I made in his thick beard.

“It's so good,” I tell him while slapping it on my tongue for him, earning a groan. The skin of him is soft as he stretches my mouth. I can taste the salty precum and I cant wait for the rest of it. I never trusted a man to release his bodily fluids in me in any way. It kind of grossed me out. Oh, but not tonight. He can release wherever he chooses.

Using one hand to twist in tandem with sucking him, I study every change in his expression, every pattern of his breath to record what feels the best to him.

“Go ‘head,” he urges in a low guttural tone. “Just like that. Take it all the way down. Don’t stop, babygirl.” That’s all I need to hear.

The eye contact is so deep it puts me in a trance. In a constant and fluid motion I take him in and out, making sure he reaches the back of my throat every time. In and out. In and out. In and out. The sounds of spit and his heavy breathing take charge of the room.

His body stiffens a bit and I can feel him get harder on my tongue. Deliberately I take him as far as possible and stay there until I make myself choke. The contracting of my throat around his thick head sends him completely off the rails. He breaks our bubble, throwing his head back to the ceiling.

“Mmm. Aw fuck!” A strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair, making it impossible for me to move. Thick ropes of his warm cum shoot down my throat and all around my mouth. “Ahh,” he groans out with a hiss jerking his hips forward a few good times. “Oh my god,” he blows out a heavy breath and lets his hands rest on his hips.

I’ve made dean’s list, honor roll all throughout high school, medals of all kind from track decorate the walls of my bedroom in my parents’ house. None of those accomplishments compare to the sight I just witnessed. The Roman Reign’s spent and sexually exhausted because of little ole me.

“Let me see,” he whispers while watching me suck the last of it out. I open wide and stick my tongue out so he can see his cum on it. His massive dick jumps at the sight. I feel the warmth of some of it seeping out and running down my chin.

“Don’t move,” he instructs. Like his obedient soldier I stay put, only looking around with one good eye. The other shut tight so none of his cum could invade it.

When he emerges again, he has a wet cloth in hand. Gently but still firm he wipes my face clean of him and my tears that slipped from the intensity of choking. Who knew the Tribal Chief is into aftercare?

A squeal escapes me from being lifted into the air and over his broad shoulder. I’m hanging as he moves us about. There’s no way that any of this is happening.

The shower starts to run. Even upside down I can see the marble walls and waterfall shower head raining down.

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

“No,” I strain to get out with his shoulder digging into my stomach. He chuckles so softly, I would’ve missed it if I couldn’t feel it from being on him.

He fucks me for hours in the shower. My back against the wall. In the air. Face against the tiles. On all fours again. I guess older men carry more stamina. The water cascaded from up top on us both while we locked tongues passionately, breathing in each other’s air.

He was in control the whole time. He flipped me every way he wanted me to go. Told me what to do, never asking. I’m left a wet, quivering mess at the end of it all.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until he asks if I want to stay the night. I think about getting dressed and leaving, but the bed is impossibly plush and the sight of him naked still is impossibly sexy. Even better than I imagined.

I threw cuddling out the window once I seen his stoic nature and how he moved about earlier like this was just a business deal. He lays in the bed, still naked on his back with muscular arms slightly stretched. I lay on my stomach beside him trying to get comfortable. My heart thumps out my chest knowing he’s still here with me and so accessible. We literally just violated each other in the nastiest way possible and now we lay in bed not even touching.

His heavy breaths and light snore fill the room in no time creating a sort of white noise for me descend to.

Some time in the middle of the night, I don know how, but those light snores ended up right in my ear. His breath hot on top of my head, accompanied by a very heavy arm over my hip.

My heart smiled and my face caught fire. It was so intimate. Undeniably my favorite part of the night. I shifted as quietly as I possibly could, inch by inch, until I was facing him. His bun fell completely apart, leaving his dried and fluffy curls cascading over his shoulders and the plush pillows. I make out what I can in the dark of his sharp features. I never seen him so relaxed. In the ring he’s always tense, always painted with tyranny and stress, but not right now. He almost looked like an angel.

I make a mental image of him. This is exactly how I want to remember him— how I want to remember this unpredictable night. This is the part that even if I could tell it, I don’t think anyone would even believe me. Burying my face into his chest, I breathe deep, trying to imprint his smell into my brain like ink on the skin.

The loud voices of men I don’t recognize, serve as my alarm clock. Eyes still shut, flashes of the night before and the soreness of my body, warp me back to reality. Oh, shit.

I shoot up from the pillow to scan the room, keeping the covers close to my naked chest. His suitcase still stood in the corner, but there’s no trace of him. No water running. His slides are gone. The thick curtain shields me from the rest of the bus.

6:07 AM flashes on the digital clock of the now cleared nightstand.

It's not like I was expecting this grand goodbye. The man didn’t even say hello to begin with. I thought I could at least see him one last good time before I leave LA for good.

I attempt to rise up, but something crinkling under my palm stops me. I grab the sheet of notepad paper and rub my eyes before reading the contents of it.

Thanks for last night. Joe.

Short and simple. In the corner, two cursive R’s as a signature. I neatly fold the paper and drop it into the pocket of my jeans I find folded on the chest dresser. I want that paper with me everywhere I go. A small piece of the whole experience. A subtle reminder of the best night of my life.

Every part of me wants to feel bad. How could I let him just use me for his needs for a night and then discard me like it was nothing? I should feel low. Cheap. But thats not even the kind of girl I am. The glass is always half full to me. Last night was arguably the best night of my young life. I’ve never known such adventure. I never felt more free—more like a woman.

I flop down in my bed still in a daze from the events of last weekend. Demi had a million and one questions. The NDA kept me from spilling. Even if I could’ve given her a play by play of how the night went, I don’t think I would’ve. Demi and I have the kind of bond thats void of any secrets. But that night with him was so special to me, I want to keep it for myself. Something for just me and him. It makes it more magical when only we know what happened. I just want to soak and bathe in it all.

Light as a feather I stare at my ceiling, letting the flashbacks corrupt me. The feel of his soft skin. The smell of him. His grunts and pants. His hands caressing and gripping my ass. The warmth of his tongue filling my mouth. I blow out a breath getting worked up again. I’ve touched myself countless times since that night to the memory of his voice and his energy. He was just so damn good. So much man and dominance, but still gentle and cautious.

After we touched back down in New York, it was back to reality. But that didn’t stop me from walking on a cloud. You can’t tell me shit. I fucked the Roman Reigns. Drained him and swallowed the aftermath. How’s that for a spring break?

It's currently Thursday. Almost a week has passed since the greatest night of my young life. I just got back from the gym with Demi. She’s pressed me every single day since that night, but I won’t budge. The confines of the NDA keeping me stronger than I normally would be.

Tomorrow is Smackdown at the Garden, but it's unclear if Roman will even be in attendance. He takes so many hiatuses it's really a hit or miss with him. Demi asked if we should go, but I declined not wanting to spend the money I didn’t have just for him not to even show.

A sudden dread came over me knowing that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of me even half as much as I’ve thought of him. He’s overridden my mind. I’ve obsessed over every little detail and played it back a thousand times, while he doesn’t even know my name.

Paul said it himself. He likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road. All the times he has to travel for work, cameras in his face nonstop, and body aching from all the physical exhaustion, I’m sure he always has to release the tension somehow. I’m just one of many.

I knew that going into it. I know I’m not special, but I tried my hardest to be. I did what I could to make him remember me. Constant eye contact, carrying out his every command, throwing this ass back as hard as I could and sucking the soul out of him.

A violent buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. I feel for it on the covers. My eyebrows dent at the message notification from a number I don’t recognize, causing me to unlock it.

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again.

Sorry for that long ass disclaimer lol. It’s a shame I even have to include that, but I literally watched a girl argue with an author on here about promoting adultery and cheating simply because a character was cheating. Like, it’s a story?? It’s a fictional character?? Don't read it??

If you read it or even just parts of it, I really am appreciative. Pls like or reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please remember I am an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit lol 💋

banner credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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yaoiification · 23 hours ago

Note

Pathetic Caleb who is desperate for ur pussy, there's not a day that goes by without his face between your thighs,Reader giving him a pussy ban and he's doing his best to not dive in whenever reader is doing basic domestic things,like make him cry and beg for it

Thank you anon let’s fucking go

It’s getting to the point where you can’t go a day without Caleb begging for your pussy. Even after a hard day of work, you come home and he’s practically salivating at the idea of drowning in your juices. Barely a step through the door to his apartment and he’s trying to tear off your clothes, guiding you to relax on the couch or the bed, it doesn’t matter as long as he can get between those soft thighs of yours. But it’s too much, it’s like he’s sucked your clit raw from eating you out day after day without break. You feel your overstimulated bud rubbing against your panties during the workday and you decide it’s time for a break.

“Caleb, wait-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before he’s using his evol to close the door behind you, pushing you against it and shoving his lips against yours.

“We need to talk.” You finally manage to speak when he pulls away to breathe. He looks at you with those classic puppy eyes and you almost relent, but you need to set this boundary, even if it’s only temporary.

“Can we do something else tonight? I love when you eat me out it’s just..” you trail off as you see his face fall, knowing his mind is reeling.

Was he not making you feel good enough? There’s no way you were faking your orgasms, he was sure of that, but was there something he was doing wrong?

You cup his cheek with your palm, reassuring his nerves.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Caleb. I …” you sigh, realizing you’re going to have to put it bluntly.

“My clit hurts from you sucking on it nightly..”

His immediate relief is clear before he furrows his brows once again.

“You’re saying we need to stop? But-“ he cuts himself off. He’d never want to hurt you, but he craves your taste. He’d gone the whole day dreaming about drinking in your sweet slick, now you’re telling him he has to go without?

“I understand, I’m sorry, pipsqueak.” He smiles, but you can tell it’s not genuine.

***

You’re once again throwing your head back against the pillows, your back arching as he brings you close to your second orgasm of the night. There’s no doubt he loves the sight of your pleasure, but he can feel his mouth grow dry with desire. Caleb’s eyes dart downward, longingly gazing at where your bodies become one. You’re drenched in a combination of both of your liquids and he’s desperate for a taste. That’s all he needs. A taste.

He can’t control himself. You’re still riding out your high as he pulls out, giving one long kiss to your sopping cunt, desperately drinking it in as much as he can before you realize what’s happening.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles between your thighs, the movement of his lips only causing your orgasm to be drawn out further. He’ll take a break from it tomorrow, but tonight he needs his fill.

#lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #lads fic #lnds caleb #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace smut

177 notes · View notes

b3ach-bunn7 · 1 day ago

Text

STEPHANIE

Gojo is your physics tutor and you’re sort of in love with him

Textfic, fluff, Highschool!au

(art Creds to @/eldritcheaven on twitter!)

—————————————————————————-

September 16th

5:38 pm

You: hiyaaa :D

You: is this Gojos number? Shoko says u can tutor me 😙

Gojo: whats the tutoring for

You: uh school?

Gojo: I mean what subject..?

You: OH LMAO

You: physics :((

Gojo: okay

Gojo: who r u again

You: Y/N

Gojo: okay meet me at the library Thursday after school

You: okayyy see u there 😁

September 18th

6:40 pm

You: gojo how am I gonna finish all this work BY MONDAY

Gojo: that’s three days

Gojo: this is easy stuff

You: FOR YOU

You: I have cheerleading until seven tomorrow night and Saturday

Gojo: okay..

Gojo: that’s my problem how?

You: okay just say u hate me

Gojo: I hate you

You: whatever

September 21st

1:06 am

You: IM DONE!

You: r u impressed

Gojo: no

You: wtf

Gojo: bring it to me at lunch so I can grade it

You: okayyyy

You: goodnight 🩷

Seen

September 21st

1:40 pm

You: GOJO WHERE R U

Gojo: in the library

You: why aren’t u in the cafeteria

Gojo: because it’s too noisy

Gojo: I can’t read in there

You: ha ha nerddd

Gojo: shut up and hurry up.

You: Okayyyy okay

You: Can u see me 🤔

Gojo: no the bright orange cheerleading costume is really hard to miss

You: 😒

You: So is the bone white hair and glasses

Gojo: hurry up

September 21st

8:12 pm

Gojo: ur so shit at physics

You: Uhm okay

You: thanks? 😭

Gojo: im sorry that was rude

Gojo: fear not that’s why I’m here

You: okay

Gojo: don’t worry it’s nothing my genius can’t fix

You: try not brag challenge fail

Gojo: you free tomorrow?

You: I should be yeah

Gojo: okay come to the library after school

You: can’t wait… 😔

September 22nd

4:06pm

You: Gojo

You: GOJO

Gojo: you are literally in front of me speak

You: nk the librarian is looking at me 😓

Gojo: okay so what

You: don’t look so annoyed at me

Gojo: im not annoyed at u

You: okay fine

You: do u have a highlighter

Gojo: …

You: DONT ROLL UR EYES AT ME

Gojo: there is LITERALLY ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF U

You: omg ur first caps lock 🙁🩷 I’m so proud

Gojo: stop laughing

You: I’m sorry u look so angry over a highlighter..

You: and I can see you smiling too 😒

Gojo: shut up.

September 23rd

7:06 pm

You: Nerdjo I have a question

Gojo: never call me that

You: 😒😒okay.. can I ask u a question now

Gojo: if it’s about the work I gave u just wait until Friday

You: UTS NOT

Gojo: oh

Gojo: okay what

You: would you rather only drink water for the rest of ur life or be allowed to drink anything you like but it always has to have a drop of pee in it

Gojo: where is the pee coming from

You: You don’t know..

Gojo: is it healthy pee

Gojo: because if not then idk what’s in it and I could contract a disease like typhoid or smth

Gojo: and also utis and that’s painful enough as is without me drinking to catch it

Gojo: also how much is a drop

Gojo: is it a ratio thing? So every 1% of any drink I drink is pee or is it always a drop

Gojo: because in that case I can just drink a lot of smth and the pee will cancelled out

You: wtf

Gojo: sorry I’m rambling

You: No.. don’t apologise.. U have opened my eyes

You: I never thought of it like that

You: Also do u think it would like make my drink yellow..

You: Cause that’s GEROOSS

You: voice note elapsed: 00:40

Gojo: voice note elapsed 1:02

September 24th

2:06 pm

You: IM SO EMBARASSED

You: Walk of shame to my seat in my cheerleading outfit god TAKE ME

Gojo: ha ha ha

Gojo: don’t be late next time

You: Shut up

You: I hate Yaga and he hates me

Gojo: he loves me

You: yeah cause ur good at physics and I’m poo at it

Gojo: better focus then

You: okay

September 24th

2:20pm

You: Gojo

You: NERDJO!!

Gojo: stop texting me

You: move u bag from the chair next to u

Gojo: what???

You: MOVE IT

You: I’m coming to sit next to you

Gojo: tf why

You: the guy next to me won’t shut up

You: and I need ur nerd aura to make me smarter

Gojo: ur so stupid

Gojo: hurry up then

You: WOPPEE OMW

September 25th

1:06 am

You: Gojo r u awake

Gojo: we have school tmrw go to sleep

You: U R 😏

Gojo: freak

Gojo: what do u want

You: I’m bored

You: And I’m confused on question three on the history hw 😓

Gojo: okay..

Gojo: ask me tomorrow

You: Or I can call u rn an u can help me..?

Gojo: .

You: PLEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASE 🙏

Gojo: you have ten minutes

You: YAY

Gojo and Y/N

25/9/2024 Time elapsed: 30:07

September 25th

11:05 am

You: GOJOOOO

You: Can I sit with u in econ today 😏

Gojo: what do u need help with now

You: Uhmmm I don’t need help

You: I just wanna sit with u..

Gojo: oh

Gojo: okay

You: YIPPEEEE

September 26th

12:21 pm

Gojo: YOU WATCH ANIME??????

You: WHY R U YELLING 😭😭

You: Yes… it’s my deep dark secret don’t tell anyone 😔

Gojo: okay with the sasuke keyring on ur bag…

You: LOL

You: how did you even see it where r u..

Gojo: stalking you in the corridors watch out

You: Okay Joe from you

Gojo: ur living ur own Netflix series rn 🩷

You: EMOJIS???

You: Who r u and where’s Gojo gone??!?££?

You: Whats ur favourite anime

Gojo: voice note elapsed: 1:34

September 28th

2:06 am

Gojo: do u think time travel is real

Gojo: or like will be real in the future

Gojo: I feel it could be because like we just advance in technology more and more as time goes by

Gojo: like if u said FaceTime would be a think in 1920 they’d probably hang u

Gojo: there was that Stephen hawking thing he did with like the party invite but

Gojo: if I was from the future I wouldn’t time travel just to prove him right like u just have an ego now

Gojo: food for thought 🩷

September 28th

7:21 am

You: SORRY I WAS AT PRAVTISE and U messaged me at like one am?)

You: But I thinking about you the whole time

Gojo: awwwww youre making me blush

You: SHURRUP

You: i was thinking about ur question not u

Gojo: same thing kinda

You: enough

You: voice note elapsed: 00:54

Gojo: girl u r not Snow White dinosaurs will eat u

You: We will find out when I time travel to the Jurassic era and kiss one

September 29th

3:37 PM

Gojo: why do u keep staring at me do ur work

You: Cause i have a question for u but im shy..🥺🥺

Gojo: EW cringe

Gojo: just ask me

You: You keep looking at me with those bombastic blue eyes im nervous

Gojo: ur so dramatic

You: DONT LAUGH AT ME

Gojo: so text me then

You: okay….

You: We have a pep rally soon can u come

Gojo: was that it..

You: YES

Gojo: girl im coming anyway geto is playing

You: UR FRIENDS WITH GETO???

Gojo: hes my best friend

You: Wait thats true ur always together

You: You know allll the girls on my team have a phat crush on him🤧

Gojo: mhm

Gojo: and are you one of those girls?

You: Nah hes not my type

Gojo: and what is ur type

You: Boys with bombastic blue eyes😏

You: R U BLUSHINGGGG

Gojo: shut up and do ur work

September 30th

9:45 pm

Gojo: ar eu home

You: Yeah why..

Gojo: play roblox with me

You: LOL

You: How’d u know im a gaymer..

Gojo: hoe u is not a gaymer

You: HEY

You: ill have u know im plat on overwatch..?

Gojo: wait actually

You: Actually

Gojo: ….

Gojo: HOP ON OW

You: Uhm sorry i cant im doing the hw my annoying tutor sent me

Gojo: im sure ur sexy smoking hot tutor will let u off this time

You: YAY

Gojo and Y/N

30/9/2024 Time elapsed: 3:46:07

October 1st

12:34 pm

Gojo: pep rally in five days

Gojo: r u nervous

You: Gojo texting me in school..?

Gojo: dont change the subject sweetheart

You: POO

You: Im scared yeah

You: I always am before a game tho

You: Like what if my shirt slips when I’m flipping and i flash my bra

Gojo: the game will get ten times better?

You: HEY

Gojo: JOKUNG IM JOKING

You: As an apology take me out for lunch today 😙

Gojo: ugh fine

You: XD

October 2nd:

2:07 pm

You: WHERE R U

You: GOJO

Gojo: me and geto went out for lunch

You: COME BACK NOW

Gojo: are you okay????

You: YES I WANNA GIVE U A HUG AND A KISS

Gojo: are you having a stroke??

You: SHOKO GAVE ME THE KEYRING

You: A LITTLE NARUTO TO MATCH MY SASUKEEE

You: THANK U SM

Gojo: ur welcome

You: 😁😁😁

You: Bring me back a coke

Gojo: ugh fine

Gojo: do i still get that hug and kiss

You: hmmm I’ll see

October 3rd:

10:21 am

You: image attachment

You: LOOK LOOK LOOK

Gojo: WELL DONE

You: A BBBBBB

You: IN PHYSICSS WHO AM I

Gojo: WELL DONE

You: Thanks for the tutoring🤤

Gojo: wait im the goat

You: hoe EYE am the goat..?

Gojo: i guess it was a team effort

You: Yeah duh

Gojo: good job sweetheart

You: 😁😁😁😁

October 3rd:

9:06 pm

You: ik we had plans but let me come home then we can play

You: Practise ran so late sorry pookie

Gojo: wait ur at school rn??

You: Yes….. kms shortly😔

Gojo: how r u getting home?

You: Walking

Gojo: girl..?

You: My parents r working and i cant drive leave me ALONE

Gojo: wait im coming to get u

You: You dont need to do that gojo

Gojo: i do im omw

You: OKay

You: Btw i like ur new glasses

Gojo: u noticed?

Gojo: stop staring at me all the time omg..

You: I cant help it

You: i love u and all four of ur bombastic blue eys

Gojo: not picking u up anymore

You: IM SORRRY🙏🙏🙏🙏

You: PLZ COME MY KNIGHT IN SHINING GLASSES

You: PLEASEEEE

Gojo: ughhh fineee

Gojo: just because u begged so nicely

You: ahahahah SHUT UP

October 3rd

10:15 pm

Gojo: r u home

You: u literally just watched me walk through my door

Gojo: so..

Gojo: what if someone took u from inside

You: Ur right hoe…

Gojo: im always right

You: Yeah yeah freaking nerd

Gojo: dont hate me cause u aint me

Gojo: ima graduate cum laude in the future

You: Why u talkign about cum u freak

Gojo: shut up

You: cum laude more like cum load 🤣🤣

Gojo: i hate u

You: LMAOOO

You: Ik ur laughng rn

You: Call me

Gojo: say please

You: Please call me four eyes🤞

Gojo and Y/N

03/10/2024 Time elapsed: 4:20:07

October 4th

3:47 am

Gojo: omg did I tell you

Gojo: I was reading this essay on behavioural psychology and it was talking about how like the concept of territoriality in humans it’s so interesting

Gojo: it’s related to how primates make their space

Gojo: not like actually of course nobody is peeing anywhere

Gojo: it’s also related to quantum physics in an weird way

Gojo: voice note elapsed: 2:12

October 4th

7:54 am

You: Whatever you say gorgeous 🙏🙏🙏

You: THATS COOL THO A

You: I got like a quarter of what u said but icloveee psychology

You: I wanna study it at university

You: my fav part is attachment and like child development and stuff

You: so ur next rant topic is going to be about that thanks 🩷

Gojo: did u actually listen to all that

Gojo: sorry I get carried away

You: Duh I listened and don’t apologise or ill shoot u

Gojo: thanks 🩷

Gojo: i bought u a coffee

You: YAYY

You: I’ll meet u at the entrance

October 5th

1:07 am

Gojo and Y/N

05/10/2024 Time elapsed: 2:39:07

Gojo: good luck for tomorrow

You: Thank u 😁

You: I’m gonna need it…

Gojo: shut up ur gonna do fine

Gojo: I’ll cheer u on from the stands

You: YAY

October 6th

3:54 pm

Gojo: get off ur phone and lock in

You: I CANT FIND U

Gojo: I’m like the third row from the bottom

Gojo: next to Shoko

You: I SEE U

You: I recognise those bombastic blue eyes anywhere🩷🩷🩷🩷

Gojo: awww is that big smile all for me

You: Shut it

You: Are those big flowers all for me??? 😁

Gojo: no they’re for the huzz

You: What if I kill you?

Gojo: plz don’t

Gojo: they are for u

You: Ur such a nerd

You: Thank u 😏

You: Ur coming to getos after right??

Gojo: yes

You: Good

Gojo: but

You: Butbwhat

Gojo: we could hang out instead

Gojo: just me and you

You: Are u asking me out on a date gojo????

Gojo: yeah kinda

You: I can see u blushing from over here

You: DONT TURN AROUJD

You: Ofc I’d rather hang out with u

You: See u after the rally😙😙😙😙

Gojo: good luck

Gojo: u look pretty in ur uniform

You: Thwnk u 😁😁😁

—————————————————————————

NERDJJO ONE CHANCE PLEASEEEE 🤞🤞🤞😓🥺 these text fics r so fun to write oh my sigma..

guys I know Gojo was kinda mean at first but he thought u were using him for his smarts… also idk I headcanon that he’s not as energetic as he is canonically.. like u think hes always bragging and dry but hes actually just itching to tell u facts about quantum physics

I HOOE U ALL ENJOYED 🩷 as always drop any asks in my inbox !!!!

#b3ach bunn7 #oneshot #fluff #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo my beloved #jjk fanfic #jjk oneshot #jjk satoru #jjk smau #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n

138 notes · View notes

seitmai · 7 hours ago

Text

Omg finally making my way through my drafts and finishing the comments to all of the chapters so far, better late than never, I guess 😬🤦🏻‍♀️

Steve needed what Bucky had in his life. At first he thought he was jealous. His best friend had an extremely desirable woman who made him drop the player lifestyle the instant he saw her. It took Steve a minute, but he realized he wasn’t jealous of either Bucky or his girl; Steve was jealous of the feeling.

Of course he is

“Bucky, I get it. Believe me I do. But we’ve already tripled the rate of divestiture. Are we to quadruple it? Is it really worth the money we’ll lose?” “I don’t think you get it at all, Steve. But you will one day.“

Maybe soon 👀

“Billionaires shouldn’t exist anyway.” Steve sighed.

“Calm down. I will finance little Amina Rickard’s monthly tuition before you cuss me out. You know I love you. And you knew sending me that picture of her was gonna work. Making my ovaries explode.” You smiled, almost choked up.

That's a marketing strategy for sure 🤷🏻‍♀️

Steve was convinced that the strip of stomach showing between your hoodie and your sweats was more alluring than any stripper outfit could be, because at the sight of it he broke out in a sweat. Your body was calling him to touch, but he didn’t even know who you were.

🤭🤭🤭

“Did you see the new bartender? Just put him on stage, I’ll climb him like the pole.” "Dat azzz tho."

Some would say that it's America's ass 🤭🤷🏻‍♀️👀

Your skin glowed everywhere,and he noticed that you didn’t seem to have augmented anatomy, not that there was anything wrong with that. He just knew that if he had a handful of that ass, it would be real. He stepped behind the bar to watch you, a convenient barrier between you and Steve’s stiffening cock.

He probably was never happier to be mistaken for a bartender 😅

Next, you straightened up and walked around until the pole was nestled in between your asscheeks, widened your legs and undulated on it. Never in Steve’s life had he wanted to be an inanimate object until now.

🤭🤭🤭

His body was lithe, but muscular, and you sensed his power. You bet he could pick you up and hold you upside down as that beard scratched the inside of your thighs to lick your… Wait. Where did that thought come from? You were objectifying your new co-worker.

Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get through a work day 🤷🏻‍♀️

‘Dont beg here,’ is what you wanted to say. You don’t know why the vision of this man on his knees for you flashed in your mind. Maybe it was his velvet baritone, or maybe it was the feel of his rough hand on yours that got you all bothered, as if his smile hadn’t already made you wet.

I get it 😮‍💨

“There’s a stack in here.” “Whoa! Cool.” Steve tried to look as if he didn’t know there were exactly 10 hundred dollar bills that he’d put in there.

He's like: "yeah totally no clue how much is in there " 👀

You turned and walked out of Regine, a certain warmth in your chest. Must the $1700 in your bag. Or the chicken wings. Nothing to do with the beautiful man you knew was watching until you got into your car.

How can you not feel great with the combination of all three things?

Peach, Part I

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' fest friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. You are a struggling dance teacher in Atlanta. And what is the quickest way for a dancer to make money in the A? When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet.

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Bartender/ Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: Okay. I can explain. Yes, I got carried away with this one too, but have you met me? It's what I do. I feel like we're gonna get a little more angsty with these two, but the payoff might be good. Idk, I just hope that you like it!

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and comes a couple of months before the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part is coming by the end of the week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, angst, financial difficulties, cute tiny dancers, familial feelings, feelings about besties being in love (third wheel?), Steve the businessman, shady people, Steve lying, Steve using an alias, a lil bit of voyuerism (involving dancing) exotic dance life; pole dancing, wild thoughts, flirting, hand holding. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Late October

Steve Rogers was frustrated.

His best friend Bucky had recently fallen in love, and instantly Steve’s life became an urgent race to divest their Art business of illegal ties so that Bucky could begin his life with her.

Together with Sam and Natasha, Bucky and Steve ran an art import business in New York which was extremely lucrative.

Except that it wasn’t really.

“Just wait until I see you tonight, Frumoasă….”

Steve glanced over at his bestie, who was turned away and whispering into the phone with a giant grin on his face. Steve shook his head and looked out of the window of the car that Nico was driving uptown to a meeting. He rolled his eyes.

More phone sex with Bucky and his girl. Great.

“Behave. Or I will make you…”

Steve cleared his throat as he listened to the suggestive chatter and shifted in his seat. Bucky and his girl were burning hot.

All of the time.

It seemed impossible.

“I love you too, Frumoasă.”

When Bucky ended the call, Steve tried to continue the conversation they were having.

“Everything good?”

Bucky smirked, a look on his face that Steve hadn’t seen before his best friend met the love of his life just weeks earlier. It was an amazing transformation.

“Everything is great.”

Then Bucky frowned.

“Except this timeline. We need to get clean, Steve. Faster. We’re going to have to travel a little more before the end of the year.”

The blond raked his hand over his face.

“Bucky, I get it. Believe me I do. But we’ve already tripled the rate of divestiture. Are we to quadruple it? Is it really worth the money we’ll lose?”

“I don’t think you get it at all, Steve. But you will one day. “

Bucky gave Steve a look that made him roll his eyes again.

“I’ll take the losses, Steve. You and Sam and Nat will get the agreed upon cut.”

Bucky gazed out of the window.

“Billionaires shouldn’t exist anyway.”

Steve sighed.

“We all agreed to speed up, and we all agreed to an equal split of the profits. And losses.”

The two men shared a knowing look. Steve assented.

“Okay, Buck. Let’s get Sam and Nat on the phone; I just want it all to be square. You know they want this just as much as you and I do.”

Bucky smiled at his friend, the oldest he had in the world.

—--

Early November

You smiled at little Amina, who was trying her best on her pliés. Although she was only four years old she had a determination like no other. Her little tongue was poked out and there was a scowl on her adorable little face.

You came over and smooth her brow and took her tiny chin in your hand.

“Relax, Mina. If you’re not having any fun, it’s not worth it. Don’t force it, sweetie.”

Amina smiled back at you and began to giggle, relaxing into the poses.

“See there! It’s better already!”

You widened your smile and spoke to the entire class of 12 little 4-6 year olds. They were adorable in their uniform black leotards and pink tights.

“Remember dancers, hard work and lots of fun, that’s our motto. And one, two, three….”

Amina’s mom, Michelle, came up to you after class.

“Here’s what I have Ms. YLN.”

She deposited half of what monthly tuition was into your hand and held it for a beat. Her eyes were watery but she had a brave smile on as she glanced over at Amina giggling with her classmates. Then, she lowered her voice.

“I’m afraid this will have to be her last class. I just can’t come up with the funds… She loves it so much… We’ll miss seeing you every week.”

Your heart shredded. You made a knee jerk decision.

“It doesn’t have to be her last class. I will send you the paperwork for the scholarship. I’ll see you both next week.”

You smiled and gave both her and Amina a hug as she skipped over to you.

“Thank you, Ms. YLN. So much!”

You smiled and nodded as they left the dance studio that you rented for your weekly classes. The tuition you collected barely allowed you to pay the rent, much less compensate you for your time and preparation.

But you were determined to help these little ones with their dreams. And to see your own to fruition.

—--

“You can’t keep letting these people put dance classes on layaway, Cousin.”

Heat bloomed in your chest. Your favorite cousin, who had everything she ever wanted, whenever she wanted, growing up was joking about layaway. Even now, she had an insanely hot, wealthy guy eating her up. Literally.

“Okay, you know what…”

You smiled, almost choked up.This was your cousin’s second scholarship student and your family’s 8th overall. You were really blessed, even though things hadn’t come easy for you.

“I think the guy who is trying to breed you all over the place is making your ovaries explode, but okay.”

“Y/N, YLN! I am a demure, respectable–”

“You’re a whore for that man and we both know it.”

“Girl, you ain’t lyingggg! Shit, he’s calling me now…”

“Go get that nut video.”

Your cousin laughed at you.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, and thanks, Sistercuz.”

“Bye Sweetie. Have a good night.”

Easy for her to say.

—---

The jet was delayed in New York because of snow and Steve was late getting started. After he landed and was sat in Atlanta traffic, he was reminded that he wanted to be in and out of the city, preferably in two days, and on to Kansas City as soon as possible.

Atlanta could be a fun time, with many many beautiful women, but he was on demon time. He needed to get rid of the criminal enterprises in the company. Quickly.

The holdings in Atlanta consisted of a handful of exotic dancing establishments. And the strip clubs in Atlanta were known to be dens of considerable iniquity. He was sure it would be easy to make a decision to offload the five clubs in the area.

On the second day, Steve had quickly turned a profit on the first four clubs, borderline dives with mid-level girls. The drugs and prostitution levels were off the charts and there were plenty of shady characters who wanted a chance at those businesses.

He’d saved ‘the best for last,’ a supposedly upscale club called Regine in midtown.

It was supposed to be a classy place, so Steve decided to just drop in to check it out before making a decision. He arrived a little over an hour before opening, stepping into the kitchen from the back alley where he parked his rental car.

“Hey, yo! You the new bartender? I told you to be here at 2, not 2:45.”

The salutation came from a huge guy with a large belly and lots of teeth. He’d be scary to anyone else. This must be Sully. Steve recognized him from the file. He decided to play along, glad that he’d dressed down in a flannel and jeans.

“Yeah, well. Traffic.”

Steve thought it best to say as little as possible. That way he would get the most information.

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me. I have to drive here from Alpharetta every day. The 400 is hell every morning.”

“We need someone with some experience. Someone willing to be paid in cash tips, nothing on the books. You look like you’d prefer that.

Steve stared Sully down, not debunking the myths the latter was making up in his mind. Sully kept talking.

“Also may need to do some security. We get into some… situations up in here.”

Sully took in Steve’s stature and unwavering stare.

“A man of few words I see, Looks like you’ll do. Can you start tonight?”

Steve couldn’t believe this joker, hiring someone off the street.

“Sure.”

This place was not looking like a keeper, Steve thought as he followed Sully for a tour. In daylight, it was passable; in the dark with the right lighting, he was sure it looked swank. Sully told him how to water down the liquor and where the firearms were kept. When his 30 minute orientation was over, Sully left Steve to set up the bar on his own.

“Cory just called in, but Mike will be in later. You should make a lot of tips, our girls are top notch.

Steve just nodded, his hands on his hips as he calculated how much Sully must be skimming off the liquor alone as the latter walked away. Sully came back to the bar and asked a pertinent question.

“Oh yeah. What's ya name?”

“Grant Stevens.”

A little white lie would never hurt anyone, especially if this situation got sticky.

“Aight. Nice to meet you Grant. Tips are not the only perks of this job, if you know what I mean.”

Steve shuddered as Sully lumbered away. He wanted no parts of perks.

—-

A couple of hours later, the girls started arriving, most of them greeting Steve with a polite hello, some skipping it with a grimace, some in their phones, and one, you, listening to music and vibing out. You were different than the weary women who’d passed by ahead of you.

Steve was struck at the serene look on your face as you entered the establishment, braids in a bun on top of your head, eyes closed and your mouth pursed as you hummed and bopped your head to the music, bag slung across your back.

Your skin was dewey, free of make up and those lips, well those lips was what made him do a double take. Your neck was graceful and the cropped hoodie you were wearing did not do a thing to hide your full curves, smooth skin, round tits, long legs, and all that ass. Steve’s palms began to itch.

He was about to find out however.

Steve stepped to the edge of the bar, ready to give a greeting, but you just bopped on by, oblivious and making your way to the dressing room. It bruised his ego, but the sting was soothed by the sight of you walking away. He stood there for a full minute in shock, but then he shook his head and went behind the bar to drink some water.

“Get it together old man,” Steve grumbled to himself as he tried to cool down. He set about talking to the employees in the kitchen to get more intel on this establishment. The sooner he had enough info, the sooner he could put this one to bed and get away from distractions.

Like you.

—--

“Did you see the new bartender? Just put him on stage, I’ll climb him like the pole.”

"Dat azzz tho."

“Right? And did you see those eyes, those lips? Pretty fly for a…”

You frowned at the chatter around you. You really had to pay more attention to your surroundings. You didn’t notice any new bartender. But knowing these ladies’ taste in romantic partners, you’d bet he was overrated.

You sighed and put your earbuds back in; there was no time for nonsense. You had to warm up properly to protect your instrument: your body.

You looked down at your watch and saw that the doors would open in 45 minutes. You had 20 minutes to go and warm up and still have time to get changed. You sat down to trade your Jordans for your stilettos and make your way out to the pole.

—-

When Steve walked back to the bar from the kitchen, there you were on stage under the lights in a crop top and short shorts.

Again, you were oblivious to him.

Steve, on the other hand, was undone.

As he watched, you moved slowly, the motion elegant and mesmerizing in the six-inch heels you were wearing which elongated your beautiful legs.

Lost in your own world under the lights, you looked ethereal, a goddess.

You approached the pole and held on with one hand, walking around and around it seductively, hopping a few times in the heels, making your ass shake with the impact. It was hypnotizing, watching your strong arms and legs, especially those legs, grip the pole as you worked your body around it.

Then, you let your hands slide down the pole, causing you to bend over and showcase your luscious ass and thighs. Steve imagined that they tasted delicious.

When you turned around and body rolled on the pole was when Steve had to grip the bar. And when you slowly twirled down to the floor and went spread eagle, beautiful legs in the air, was when he felt like vaulting over the marble bar to get to you.

You rolled over onto your knees and started undulating, then started crawling toward the end of the stage closest to him.

Steve knew the exact moment you noticed him.

You froze, looking like a startled feline. Squinting, you moved your hand over your eyes so you could see beyond the lights, then pulled out your earbuds and got to your feet effortlessly.

—--

You thought you were alone with your music and your fantasy of dance that got you in the headspace to strip for strangers. You didn’t notice anyone out in the club until you were almost done with your warm up routine, when, as you looked up from the floor you saw a large figure behind the bar.

You froze, a moment of something like fear, but more like a thrill, passing through you.

As your eyes adjusted to the area beyond the lights, you saw a tall, muscular body and longish hair. This must be the new bartender. You got up and approached him, trying to analyze your feelings about the situation before you addressed the man.

As you got closer, your temperature seemed to rise. Must’ve been the workout.

His warm denim blue eyes were gorgeous and that dark blond hair and reddish beard were thick and lustrous. Although the beard was a bit wild and wooly, there was no hiding the pink, full lips under that straight, masculine nose.

His body was lithe, but muscular, and you sensed his power. You bet he could pick you up and hold you upside down as that beard scratched the inside of your thighs to lick your…

Wait. Where did that thought come from?

You were objectifying your new co-worker.

That would never, never do. You vowed to be professional.

—-

Steve straightened up as you came near. The look on your face was hard to read. Whatever it was you were feeling, Steve felt like an intruder.

Even though he had the deed to this building in his bag.

“Hi.”

It was all he could think of to say as you stood before him because his mind was empty. With you up close, the only thing he could do was stare. Your scent was like a drug and our eyes were…everything. He gazed into them, a myriad of colors that holding him captive.

Then that mouth started moving.

“Hello. You the new barback?”

“What?”

Steve leaned closer, pretending he couldn’t hear you, just to get closer. It wasn’t entirely game; he was quite distracted by you.

The side of your mouth curled up in a sardonic smile and a sudden, funny feeling spread throughout his stomach. He gave you a side grin in response to your side eye.

“Are… you… new… here?”

“Yes, I am working in the bar. I’m Steve…ns. Grant Stevens.”

You extended your hand to him.

“Nice to meet you Grant. I’m Peach.”

“Peach?”

The word gave Steve visions. He stared at your lips, thought of your ass, imagined your juices dripping down his chin.

“Yes,” You smirked. “Peach.”

Steve was speechless.

“It’s nice to meet you. Since you’re new here and probably haven’t gotten paid yet, I won’t charge you for the private dance.”

Steve’s mind was moving slowly. Like he was drugged.

“That’s a stage name, right?”

Peach. It had to be a stage name. Yet it suited you so perfectly. Suddenly he wanted a taste test.

Steve licked his lips and your eyes followed his movement as you proceeded to not answer him. He unconsciously started stroking the back of your hand with his thumb and gave you his full smile.

You grew even warmer, from the friction of course, and blinked at him as if you were facing sunlight as you pulled your hand from his.

“Forgive me. I’m sorry for eavesdropping? Spying? Watching you dance without you knowing? Don’t know what to call it. But beg your pardon.”

—--

“Don’t beg.”

‘Dont beg here,’ is what you wanted to say.

You don’t know why the vision of this man on his knees for you flashed in your mind. Maybe it was his velvet baritone, or maybe it was the feel of his rough hand on yours that got you all bothered, as if his smile hadn’t already made you wet.

He was tall, a good head taller than you, even in your heels, and a looming presence. In a good way. You wanted to be enveloped by him. But you didn’t even know him.

You had to get it together, but the scent of his cologne was making your mouth water to taste him. You were weak for this man.

You hated this feeling, didn’t have time for it, yet you weren’t ready to end the conversation just yet.

“I mean, I felt some kinda way when I first saw you here, but hell, I don’t own this place. And neither do you.”

For some reason, Grant’s face did a thing. A weird frowny sad thing, but you barrelled ahead.

“You’re a worker, just like me, and you were just getting your work station ready, just like me. Solidarity, man.”

“Yeah. Solidarity.”

Grant cleared his throat.

“Great moves up there.”

—---

You grinned, blinding him this time. Steve’s discomfort that his ‘little white lie’ was spreading to you dissipated when you smiled at him.

He just knew that your smile could heal any ailment, if he were allowed regular doses of it for the rest of his life.

“Thanks, friend. They make me a lot of money three nights a week.”

You pushed off the bar and started walking back to the locker room as Steve chuckled at your immediate friend zoning.

“And if you like that, stick around for the show.”

You threw a look over your shoulder that made him want to follow you anywhere.

As he watched you leave again, Steve Rogers knew that he needed a little more time to figure this place out.

—----

Steve was concluding that Regine wasn’t the worst, but nothing extraordinary. The women in makeup and costume looked good and the tips were flowing; he could see how this was a money maker.

He had his suspicions about Sully, but he still had little evidence about the quality of the place. He needed to see all of the dancers.

Steve wanted to see you dance. For research purposes.

He was busy at the bar all night, so much so that Sully had to come by and made four money drops. This place made much more profit than was being reported, that much was clear as Steve’s eyes followed Sully back to his office with the cash.

He was about to follow him when you brushed by him, ensconced all in white.

“Excuse me. Gotta get to the stage, Comrade.”

Your wink distracted him from the fact that you were wearing a ten gallon cowboy hat and boots.

Wait.

Were those spurs?

Mesmerized, Steve leaned on the bar to watch your show.

The stage went dark while the guitars started. There were whistles and stomps from the floor, cries of Yesss! Peach! Go Peach! Ride me Cowgirl, and Pour some liquor on me honey tooooo! reverberated in the room.

These were grown men and women.

And by the time the first line of the song played, “This ain’t Texas…”, the crowd was in a frenzy and in the palm of your hand.

Steve suddenly understood the customer’s enthusiasm.

The way you moved on the stage, your props, the way your body captivated everyone in the place was astounding.

You were brilliant.

You were what made Regine extra ordinary.

—---

You were bone tired by the time 3 am rolled around and the club closed after two full sets. You’d made $700 dollars in tips, not bad for a Tuesday, considering that you didn’t do any private dances. You were yawning as you passed the bar and Steve stopped you to say goodnight.

“Hey Peach. You were fantastic tonight.”

He shook his head.

“It was the first time I’ve seen that prop used on a dance club stage…”

Steve’s eyes glazed over as he replayed the image of you spinning on the pole with the stick of the hobby horse between your legs.

You spared the handsome blond an appreciative glance and a tired laugh.

“Thanks, Grant. I try to be original. Hope you did well tonight.”

“I did pretty good.”

Steve smiled as he would if $500 dollars would excite him.

“Hey, one of the customers at the bar told me to give you this. Said he was shy?”

You looked at him warily as you took the envelope. Inside was $1000.

“Holy Shit!”

You looked up and covered your mouth, your girlish piety endearing to Steve, who chuckled at you.

“There’s a stack in here.”

“Whoa! Cool.”

Steve tried to look as if he didn’t know there were exactly 10 hundred dollar bills that he’d put in there.

“Guy must really like you. Could it be a regular? A special friend? An ex perhaps?”

Steve was not being very subtle, but he didn’t have much time. You were smirking at him in that way again.

“My regulars are regular shmegular degular, and cannot afford to tip me one thousand dollars. Must be a high roller rolling through the A.”

You smiled, but decided you needed to be tough. You straightened and gave the most menacing glare you could manage.

Steve thought you were adorable.

“I don’t know who would have done this. I don’t have any special friends or exes in this city. I’m all work. NO play. In any way. Especially at work.”

You hoped your hard look worked. Grant was certainly watching your mouth as you spoke, so he must have caught what you meant, right? When his eyes flicked up to yours, your knees got weak so you decided you should go.

“‘Night, Grant.”

Steve made sure that you drove off safely, and then followed you home as he thought about how efficiently you’d curved him.

Once you went into your apartment, Steve called Bucky and told him that he needed a little more time on this enterprise.

This one was a peach.

-----

Okay. I hope that you liked it! Let me know by reblogging please!

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ifitsnotmethenwhothefuck · 23 hours ago

Text

Vil Schoenheit x Reader

So imagine this: Vil has been working really hard for this new product launch for his makeup brand.

The whole thing is this huge lip set of over 20 lipsticks, lip glosses, lip liners, lip stains, and lip plumper, all of them are standing from different shades and colors that he personally picked out.

Now the product should release on Feb 14, but before that he plans on doing a photo shoot to showcase all the different shades and colors, but he’s having some trouble deciding on what makeup look to do for the shoot.

So he asks you to come by and help him with his makeup, which nearly shocks you to death because you never thought he would ask you for help regarding makeup.

Story, type: one shot

Warning: Kissing, fluff, pet names

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x Reader (surprise character at the end)

AN: I didn’t plan on this being a story, but it kind of turned into one I’ve never written for Vil before, but I tried 😅.

You got a text message from Vil early in the morning saying he needs help with his makeup. You’re dumbfounded. Shocked even, Vil Schoenheit needs help with his makeup, and he’s coming to you of all people to ask for it.

Well, if anyone wants the bragging rights saying that they helped Vil with their makeup, it’s you of all people. Wasting no time and rushing over to his room, you find him already with a full face of makeup. He looked amazing, a little bit more glamorous than normal with a smoky red eyes and dark red lips. You were confused; how exactly did he need your help if he looked this good?

“Oh, you’re here. Come inside,” Vil says as he closes the door behind you and makes his way back to his vanity, where he sits down. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted my help with your makeup.” You asked slightly confused. He turns around to look at you.

“Oh, I do,” he says, looking at you like you’ve just asked him the most stupid question ever, as he proceeds to wipe his makeup off with a cotton pad soaked in makeup remover, wiping away his hard work with each stroke of his hand, leaving you speechless. That had to have taken hours. Why is he just wiping it away?

“I don’t get it; your makeup already looked amazing. How could I possibly help?” you asked as Vil finished removing the last bit of makeup from his face; you didn’t notice how his eyes averted from yours when you asked that question, “Don’t worry, sweet potato. I’m not asking you to do anything outside your skill set; just help me decide on a look for my product shoot.” He said with a small smirk as he turned back around and started applying new makeup to his face.

You both sat in a comfortable silence as you watched him apply new makeup; you noticed he was going for a more natural look than what he normally did. It didn’t look bad or anything; he could definitely pull it off. He could practically pull off anything, but you were a little surprised, ever since you’ve gotten to know him. You’ve never seen him. Try to go for this kind of look before.

“If you keep on staring at me like that, you’ll burn a hole in my clothes, and I don’t think you can afford to have these tailored.” Vil said as he looked at you through his vanity mirror, a blush forming on your cheeks as you looked down, realizing what you were doing. “Sorry,” you said softly, slightly embarrassed.

“No need to apologize, sweet potato; I was actually about to ask you for your help,” he says with a small smirk as he turns around to look at you. “You were?” You say slightly shocked you had kind of suspected you weren’t really going to help him with his makeup rather just help him pick out what look to do for his shoot?

“That is why I asked you to come over, isn’t it?” He says to you as if stating the most obvious thing in the world, which he probably was. “That’s true,” you say softly, mostly to yourself. “Anyway, if you’re going to help me, grab a chair and come over here.” You do as you’re told and sit across from him.

Several of his new lipsticks are lined up on his vanity in front of him as you both look at them. “Which one do you think we should start with?” Vil asks as he looks up at you. “I really like the dark red one,” you say, pointing to one of the tubes of lipstick. A small sigh escapes from Vil’s lips. “You mean the burgundy one?” Vil says, picking up the lipstick you pointed to. “Yeah, that one,” you say with a small smile.

“Okay, so all I need to do is put it on you.” You ask a little hesitantly as Vil has yet to hand the lipstick over to you. “Not quite,” Vil says as he looks down, avoiding your eyes. You tilt your head and look at him in confusion. “I actually need to put this on you.” Vil says, staring back up at you, “I don’t understand. Aren’t I supposed to be helping you with YOUR makeup?” you ask, confused.

“Patient sweet potato, you’ll get to do my makeup soon enough, but for now, can I please put this on you?” Vil asked as he took the lid off of the lipstick and gently placed it on his vanity. “Okay I guess there’s no harm in it” you say as Vil gives you a approving smile “that’s great to hear if you don’t mind I need you to come a little closer” Vil says as he grabs the bottom of your chair and pulls you closer to him your legs in between one another now “do I really have to be this close” you ask slightly embarrassed as a small blush forms on your cheeks, “unfortunately yes” Vil says as he gently grab your face. “Now please don’t move.” He says as he fully focuses on your lips as you stare at him, he gently applies his lipstick to you.

After a moment or two, Vil finally pulled away and gently placed the lipstick on the vanity. He stared at you, well, your lips at least, admiring his handiwork. “Alright, I think that’s good,” he says, looking up at you. “What exactly do you want me to do now?” You ask, not sure how this was supposed to help with his makeup.

“Well, you kiss me, of course,” he said, looking into your eyes to see if he could read your emotions; meanwhile, you felt like your heart had stopped beating as your face began to heat up. “Y-you want me to k-kiss you?” you said instantly, wondering if you had misheard him. “Only if you feel comfortable with it,” he said with a small sigh.

“Oh no, I don’t feel uncomfortable or anything. This is just a bit surprising,“ you say, avoiding his eyes “Well then, can you start off by giving me two right here?” he says, and as you look up at him, seeing him point his long, slender finger to his temple, you feel a little more relaxed, knowing you didn’t have to give him a ‘normal kiss,’ but there was also a part of you that was slightly disappointed. “Umm, okay,“ you said before leaning in closer to him and softly placing a kiss onto his temple and another one underneath it on his cheekbone, you pulled away just enough so he could turn his face so you could do the same thing to the other side.

When you were done, you quickly leaned away from him. “What now?” you ask, trying to sound confident. “Now we change the color,” Vil said dismissively as he grabbed a cotton pad and soaked it in makeup remover before looking over at you. “Do you want me to help you take that off?” He asked as his eyes lingered on your lips. You felt like your mind was going blank. What was he asking? He wanted you to take something off your face, instantly heating up. “Oh, umm, sure,” you said with a small mark.

Before you knew it, he was leaning in closer to you, one of his hands gently cupping your face while his other carefully rubbed the cotton pad against your lips. Taking off the lipstick when he was done, he picked up a brighter red lipstick and applied it to you. ”Okay, I need one right here and here,“ he said, pointing to two new spots, one below the arch of his brow on his eyelid and the other on the corner of his eye.

You gently placed the new kiss marks on each eye before leading away from him; a small thank you left his lips before he looked at himself in his vanity mirror. He made a few touch-ups, putting blush on the high of his cheekbones, then he handed you his phone. You looked at him confused for a moment before he spoke. “I need you to take some photos of me.” He said, casually, “Right,” you said softly as you snapped a couple of photos of him, as he give you his best model face.

You handed him back his phone as he looked at all the photos with a very serious expression. “Well, I guess my work here is done” you say awkwardly as he puts his phone down looking at you with a confused look, “not quite I still have a few more looks I want to try on” he said as he landed in closer to you, wiping your lips, clean with a cotton path,

He then wiped off the kiss marks from his face and touched up the rest of his makeup, giving himself a smoky purple eye that matched one of the dark violet lipsticks he picked it loo up, and started to apply it to your lips, carefully. “Okay, love, I need you to kiss me right here,” he said, pointing to his cheek.

You did as you were told, leaning closer to him and closing your eyes as you placed a kiss on his cheek. It was quick and simple, but it still left you feeling flustered as you pulled away. “Thanks, love, I just need to take a few more photos, and then we can move onto the final look,” he said, giving you a small smile as he handed you his phone. You nodded your head in understanding as you took his phone.

You proceeded to take several photos of him. Your favorite one was of him looking over his shoulder at you when you were done; you handed him back his phone, and he looked through all the photos. Deleting the ones that weren’t up to his taste. “What lipstick do you think we should try out for the final look?” he asked, as he started to wipe off his makeup before removing your lipstick.

“What about this one?” You asked as you pointed to a rosy pink lipstick. Vil didn’t really say anything in response; rather, he just picked it up and started applying it to you. “I have to touch up my makeup, and then we can start,” Vil said as he set the lipstick back down on the vanity. He then proceeded to touch up his makeup. Putting on a soft pink eyeshadow with a sharp black cat liner, when he was done, he traced one of his slender fingers along his jaw, down his neck, and across his collarbone as the words “from here to here” fell off his lips ever so gently. You felt a warm blush creep up again as you tried to stop yourself from feeling flustered, but it was getting hard to do so.

You leaned into him, your hands resting on his chest as your legs intertwined with one another’s, taking your time in between each kiss, your lips ghosting over his skin as you traveled to the next place you would mark with your kiss, your hot breath heating up his cold skin, sending goosebumps up his neck.

You placed random kisses along his jawline, leaning back for a second only to admire your work before traveling down his neck. As you kissed along his Adam's apple, you had to stop yourself from jumping from shock as you felt his hands grab your waist. “Was—was he enjoying this?” you thought to yourself as you placed more kiss marks down his neck and along his collarbone.

It helped that his shirt had a low V neckline, making it easy to access his chest as you placed random kisses onto him. You could have sworn you heard him make a low noise as you kissed his collarbone, but perhaps it was just your imagination. You slowly pulled away as you looked up at him. You both were just inches apart as you softly spoke, “I think that’s good,” you said, as you felt your voice get trapped in your throat. You hoped he didn’t notice how flushed you were.

He looked into your eyes as if they were his own choice of poison. “You did a great job. love, I’ll have to reward you for helping me.” He said, giving you a small smile, his hands still laced on your hips; you felt your body betray you. As your voice got stuck in your throat, your face heating up, “Well, thank you for thinking of me, but I think helping you was enough of a reward,” you said, not realizing you were leaning closer to him, the corners of his lips curling up into a smirk. “Oh, did you perhaps enjoy kissing me a bit too much?” he said in a teasing tone as his hand slid up your back.

“And if I did?” You asked, leaning in closer, your lips only inches apart from each other. His eyes lingered on your lips that were painted in his pink lipstick, and before you knew it, he closed the distance. Your lips met in a soft and delicate kiss. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for enjoying myself,” he said softly as his lips ghosted over yours.

A small smile played on your lips before you closed the distance again. Your lips met in a slightly more hungry kiss as his hands slid up your body and your own hands slid up into his hair, deepening the kiss, the taste of lipstick and roses, as your tongues danced with each other, soft gasps filled the room as you moaned into each other’s kiss, only pulling away to catch your breath.

You lean away from Vil as he takes a quick look in the mirror. Surprisingly, none of your earlier kiss marks were messed up, although he did have lipstick smudged around his mouth that he needed to wipe off after he touched up his makeup. He grabbed his phone. “Do you mind, love?” He said, giving you a small smile as he handed you his phone.

You were still blushing from what just happened, your whole body feeling hot. You were honestly a little jealous how he seemed to be handling it so perfectly. Not wanting to seem immature, you took his phone, and an awkward laugh left your lips before you spoke. “Not at all,” you said, hoping this won’t be the last time you get to kiss Vil Schoenheit, but you didn’t want to tell him that.

He gave you a thankful smile before you started to take more photos of him, some of which were him looking away from the camera and others of him leaning in to it. You thought each photo was breathtaking in your own opinion, but he looked at all of them with the eyes of a critic, deleting the ones that he didn’t deem worthy. “What are you planning on doing with these photos? anyway?” you asked curiously, hoping this whole thing won’t turn into something awkward.

“I’m going to send them to my makeup artist and manager to see what they think if this would be a good look for the product shoot,” Vil said, as he continued to look through the photos on his phone, sending the ones he liked off to his makeup artist and manager. When he was done, he finally looked up at you. “Thanks for helping me.” He said as he gave you a small smirk, You’re blushing now, creeping back up on you. “Anytime,” you say softly.

And then Rook busted in through the door the three of you just stared at each other awkwardly as you and Vil were sitting so close your legs were intertwined with each other. kiss marks, traveling down Vil‘s body that matched your snatched lipstick, perfectly a mischievous grin, forming on Rook��s lips as he watched you panic for an excuse.

Inspiration photos for this post, I found these photos on Google. Happy early Valentine’s Day. 😘🥰

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gyubakeries · 3 days ago

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𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘂𝘀 | k.mg [TEASER]

a/n: this fic has been in the works ever since mingyu dropped the cover, and im finally getting around to posting it! writing it was no easy task, and when the idea of the angst olympics collab came around, i felt like it was the perfect time. this fic is very precious to me, and i hope you like reading it too!

shout-out to ally ( @lovetaroandtaemin ) for making this pretty banner for the fic!! also thanking all my beta-readers (tagged in main fic) for helping me out <3

lastly, i wanna thank the angst olympics collab for motivating me to finish this fic. i hope you guys like this one <3

word count (for teaser): 361 contents (for teaser): mingyu x f!reader , post-break up , mentioned drinking , angst

FULL FIC IS OUT! read the full fic -- here!

check out the angst olympics collab -- here! and don't forget to support all the other writers too <3

summary: both you and mingyu know that your relationship ended a year ago. it was clear from the way you left and he never chased after you. then why do you still see glimpses of each other every time you’re trying to move on?

it's all wrong.

when mingyu wakes up, a white ceiling presses down on him, the scent of oranges suffocates him, and skin that is brushing against his isn't warm.

he feels uneasy, his skin prickling at all these foreign sensations.

it's all wrong.

he should have been looking up at tattered glow-in-the-dark stickers on a pale blue ceiling. he should have been in the embrace of sweet roses that always managed to make him feel at home. he should have been touching skin that keeps him warm through the coldest winter nights.

he should have done a lot of other things too.

he didn't.

—

"y/n, i know you're in there," comes your best friend's voice. he's teetering on the edge of exasperation, but you can only laugh to yourself.

it's a pathetic sound, and you can only think of when it used to be much happier.

"you better be decent," seungkwan warns, before he's punching in the code to your apartment and letting himself in. the stench of alcohol hits him first, and then his eyes land on you—slumped against the couch, hand clutching an empty bottle of alcohol, and a hazy look in your red-rimmed eyes.

"you promised you wouldn't do this to yourself anymore," seungkwan whispers, biting back all the nagging and scolding when he sees your blank, regretful smile.

"promises aren't a real concept anymore, kwan," you croak out, voice hoarse from all the crying. "they're never real."

you repeat the words like a mantra, sometimes in your head, and sometimes out loud. seungkwan bites his tongue to stop himself from crying in front of you as he helps you get off the floor, drink some water, and sleep in your bed.

"i'll stay the night," seungkwan tells you, already pulling out the air mattress he bought for himself ever since you started drinking to the brink of alcohol poisoning. "tell me if you need anything."

him, you think. i need him. kim mingyu. he's all i’ve ever needed.

seungkwan can read your mind, and he stays silent after that.

you fall asleep without saying anything, and old glow-in-the-dark stars and real laughter haunt your dreams again.

fill this form to be added to the taglist <3

head to the masterlist for more!

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drgnflyteabox · 12 hours ago

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Simon x gn!reader. Simon gives you a neck massage<3 some body horror imagery (like just description of pain), migraine, shame about chronic pain / having to take a break, soft, abrupt ending (sry)

Your neck pops, shoulders stiffening, little crackles dancing up your spine and to the base of your skull. Straightening doesn't help, no matter how much you try. You roll your shoulders back, lifting them, breathing deeply to try and relieve the pressure.

Nothing.

You stay unbearably stiff, hearing the inner machinations of your overwrought musculature with each breath, feeling it pulling at your scalp.

God, your skin pulls back while your eyes are pulled forward, pulsing, barely hanging on in your head.

You sit up again, eyes blurring, squinting to see the words on your laptop screen. They jumble together, frying your sensitive eyes, taunting you as your neck pops once again.

They should call you rice krispie, or at least make you one of the mascots. You could be snap or pop. That almost makes you laugh, but the heavier breaths send pulses of pain to your head and you stop yourself.

But your writing.

You know there's gonna be a phone call tomorrow at 11, that it's going to expect words on pape, words you just don't have.

You know you could just... send an email and explain. Offer to attach a doctors note, even though they've given you accommodations. You could delay, and probably nobody would say a thing. They haven't yet at least.

Yet you feel that coil of dread in your stomach at the thought. That poisonous little snake sinking it's longfanged teeth in you.

How many times have you had to delay? It feels like too many - too many to be normal, functional, surely.

That venom tells you you'll be fired, ostracized, that a big red stamp will be stuck onto some permanent database and you'll never be hired again.

You don't know how long you sit there, in pain, despairing your job when Simon walks quietly into your home office and lays heavy hands on your shoulders.

"It's late," he murmurs. His thumbs find your traps, digging in, and you moan softly.

"I gotta finish this," you mumble.

"It's late," he says again, "and you're tense. How's your head?"

He can probably feel how rock hard your muscles are, how the long line of your back is as rigid as a board.

"I just need to take another advil," you murmur, rolling your shoulders against his hands.

"You could," he slips on palm to your front, gliding over your collar, then gently holding your neck right below your jaw, "or you could let me give you a rub and go to sleep."

"I really need to finish this," you try, though you know it's weak. That you'll give in. You aren't accepting it- you're resigned to it.

Simon can tell.

"I'm not asking, honey," his hands move again, gliding, slipping under your armpits to nudge you up and out of your chair.

You stand, dizzy for just a moment before you let yourself lean back into him. He's a good sport about it, always is, half-dragging you to the bathroom.

"Brush your teeth," he puts the toothbrush in your hand, already tooth paste-ed, and leaves you in the bathroom for a moment.

He comes back with your pyjama's. The flannel ones you'd gotten last Christmas, worn in now and comforting. Your eyes tear up at his consideration, and you sniffle while he undresses you.

"Thank you," you mumble around the toothbrush, "my head really hurts."

"I know, honey," he says back. His voice is soft, still gravelly, but purposefully soft. That's enough to make you cry, though you can only let tears fall out of your eyes. Anything else would make your head worse.

"Do you need any advil?" he finishes buttoning your pyjama top as you spit your rinse into the sink.

"Yeah, I think so," he gives you four, which you swallow with water, "can you still rub my neck?"

He hums yes, guiding you by the elbow to the bedroom. You lay flat on your back, trying to relax, feeling his weight shift the mattress as he climbs in behind you.

His hands are perfect for this. Strong, thick, turning the muscles of your neck and shoulders into mash potatoes. You groan, grateful tears soaking into the pillow.

His thumbs find the base of your head, pushing, pushing, until the tension wrapping your skull gradually lessens. You begin to sink into the mattress, breathing deeply, hands twitching.

"Thank you," you sniffle.

"I should'a stopped your earlier," he digs into a tense spot, making you gasp for just a moment before you relax again, "know how you are."

"Mm'workaholic," you mumble.

"Ridiculous is what you are," he says. It's gruff, but it's fond. If you hadn't known him so long you'd have maybe been hurt.

That's how you fall asleep. Thinking of calling your supervisor tomorrow, apologizing, feeling better now that you aren't totally overwhelmed with pain.

Simon stays behind you as you drift, never relenting, moving his hands across your back and unknotting your stubborn muscles one by one.

"Love you," you mumble, half coherent.

"Love you too, honey," Simon murmurs. His lips find the nape of your neck, enveloping you with his body and his warmth, as your energy peters out.

#drgnfly writes #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley/reader #ghost/reader #my weekly migraine is here so wooo #here we go

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pomefioredove · 2 days ago

Note

I kinda wanted to be a little different with this one—

May I request a sugar cookie #5 with dried fruit and chestnuts please? Thank you very much!

this is the most ridiculous thing I've ever written /positive I hope you guys enjoy

order #5, sugar with dry fruit, chestnuts

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ sickness and kisses

summary: kalim wants to be a part of everything- including your cold. what better way to share germs than getting close? tropes: sick fic, first kiss characters: kalim additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, a little gross

"It should have been me!"

Jamil winces and takes a step away from the bed. You hold out a hand to him, as if to say "take me with you."

"Kalim, they're not dying. It's nothing but a cold,"

The boy peels himself off bed at your feet, which he's been attached to all afternoon.

"You don't get it, Jamil! They're going to miss my birthday party- the desserts, the music, the games! Who knows if the Prefect will be here for my birthday next year!"

"Kalim," you pat his head to comfort him, though, if anyone needs comfort, it's you. "I'll be fine. We can have another party when I'm better."

He sighs, leaning into your touch. "It's not the same..."

Jamil looks more sick than you now.

"Ahem. I've brought soup and tea, and there are extra blankets in the foyer. Kalim, we should be going,"

Kalim pouts and clings to your blankets. "Just a moment..."

"I'll be waiting outside,"

Jamil doesn't need to be excused twice, leaving the room and closing the door on his way out.

Kalim sighs. "I just hate when my friends are sick... I wish there was a way I could share some of your pain,"

"That's nice, but you don't have to- ack," you cough into your fist.

Kalim's sympathetic pat would be comforting, if not for that look. You can tell he's thinking something.

He waits for you to finish hacking and coughing, at least. Then:

"I have an idea," he says. "You can get me sick. That way, we can still spend my birthday together, and you won't be alone!"

Thinking something, alright. You're surprised Jamil couldn't feel that on his "Kalim's bad ideas" radar and come running before anything more happened.

"I appreciate that, Kalim, but this kinda sucks," you smile. "I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy."

He smiles back and sits beside you on the bed, closer now.

"But you and Jamil said it's just a cold! I've been poisoned, you know- I think I could handle it!"

You blink. "Well... yeah, but it's still sucky,"

"But we'll be together!" he insists. "Now, how should we do this? I've never gotten sick on purpose before, so I don't- oh, I know!"

"Huh?"

He comes a little closer, leaning over you. "I'll kiss you!"

Your eyes widen, and again, you're surprised Jamil didn't feel that and burst through the door like the room was on fire.

"Like... seriously?"

"Why not? It's the fastest way. But I could figure something else out if you don't want to," he eyes your hands. "Maybe you could-"

"Alright! I concede! Just... one kiss,"

Kalim beams. "One is all I need!"

With no further warning, questioning, or thought, he dips in and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. It doesn't last for more than a second, but it still leaves you a little flustered.

He hums, licks his lips, and then hops off the bed. "Thanks, Prefect! I'll be back in no time, don't worry!"

He leaves the door open behind him. You're honestly the last person he should worry about, now.

You wonder, for a moment, what he was thinking- Kalim is ditzy, not dense. He had to have known what he was...

Your eyes widen as you remember something else. Oh, crap.

If this works, Jamil is going to kill you.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #kalim al asim x reader #queued

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alittlegiraffe · 2 days ago

Text

Title: The Fight

The night was supposed to be quiet, simple—just the two of you and some takeout on the couch. But it had escalated so fast, neither of you saw it coming. What started as a casual disagreement had turned into a full-blown fight, voices raised, words thrown like daggers, all of it spiraling out of control.

“You don’t get it, Marshall!” you shouted, your hands trembling with frustration. “You never listen! I’m always the one making compromises while you just do whatever the hell you want!”

Marshall was pacing, his face flushed with anger, his jaw clenched tight. “Oh, so now I’m the bad guy? You think I don’t try? You think I don’t care about you, about us? You’ve been distant for weeks, and every time I try to talk to you, you shut me out!”

You threw your hands up, the last bit of patience you had evaporating. “I’m trying! But you—You’re always too busy! It’s like I don’t even matter anymore! Maybe I don’t matter to you at all!”

His eyes narrowed, hurt flashing across his face. The words stung more than he wanted to admit, but he refused to let it show. “You matter to me more than anything. But you keep pushing me away! What do you want from me, huh?”

“I want you to hear me,” you yelled back. “I want you to care about what I need too, not just what you need!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Both of you were breathing hard, emotions running high. For a long moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath.

You could see it in his eyes—the hurt, the confusion. But even then, something inside you snapped. You couldn’t stay in this suffocating atmosphere anymore. Without saying a word, you turned and grabbed your jacket from the chair, making a beeline for the door.

Marshall watched in shock as you stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind you. For a brief second, he stood frozen, unsure of what just happened. Then, his heart dropped.

“No,” he muttered under his breath, the panic beginning to set in. He quickly ran to the door, throwing it open to find you standing at the foot of the driveway, your back to him, your posture stiff.

“Wait!” He called out, his voice desperate. “Where the hell are you going? We need to talk about this!”

But you didn’t stop. You just kept walking, your footsteps echoing in the cold night air.

“Stop, damn it!” Marshall’s voice cracked, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t letting you leave. Not like this. Not after everything. You weren’t going to walk out of his life when it felt like his whole world was crumbling apart.

He moved faster, his long strides closing the distance between you in seconds. As you reached for the car door, he grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his frustration and fear mixing with something else—something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered, his voice strained. His grip softened just enough to let you know he wasn’t trying to control you—he was just scared. “Please... we can work this out. I need you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Your anger was still there, but underneath it, you felt that familiar pull of love, the connection you shared with him.

“I can’t keep doing this, Marshall,” you said, your voice breaking. “I can’t keep feeling like I’m invisible to you.”

“You’re not invisible,” he pleaded, his hand reaching for yours. “I see you. I see everything you do. I know I mess up. I know I don’t always get it right, but I’m not giving up on us. You’re my everything.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you didn’t move.

Marshall took a deep breath, looking down at your trembling form. He couldn’t lose you—not like this. Not when things had already been tough enough.

Before you could even react, he stepped forward, his hands gently but firmly wrapping around your waist. “I’m not letting you walk away from me.”

“What are you—” you gasped, but Marshall didn’t give you a chance to finish your sentence.

In one swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet dangling in the air, and he started walking back toward the house.

“Put me down!” you protested, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he tightened his hold, not allowing you to break free.

“Not until you listen,” he said, his tone soft but insistent, his voice thick with emotion. He wasn’t going to let you go, not when you were both this close to fixing things.

He carried you back inside the house, shutting the door behind him with a force that echoed through the quiet night. He didn’t put you down until you were back in the living room, sitting on the couch. He kneeled in front of you, his hands resting on your knees, his eyes desperate.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “I’m not perfect. Hell, I fuck up a lot. But I need you here. I need you in my life, and I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. Just don’t leave me, please.”

You looked at him, the fire in your chest starting to die down. His words, his raw honesty, hit you harder than you expected. And for the first time that night, you didn’t feel so angry anymore. Instead, you just felt… exhausted.

“I don’t want to leave,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just... I don’t know how to make things better.”

Marshall’s gaze softened as he stood up, sitting next to you and pulling you close, his arm around your shoulders. “We’ll figure it out together,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I promise, we’ll work through it. I’m not letting you go.”

You leaned your head against his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace sink in, the tears you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back finally falling. But in that moment, you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t alone. And neither was he.

#eminem #marshall mathers #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader

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thezombieprostitute · 15 hours ago

Text

Your Champion: Changes

Summary: Steve takes you somewhere safe.

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Implied violence, Manipulation. Please let me know if I missed any!

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Steve did end up taking you out of the apartment, but not as payment for your father's debts. He tells you it's because he wants to keep you safe, to get you away from such a dangerous man.

You fight the urge to laugh at the absurdity. Steve literally burst into your life and started hitting your father. From what he's told you, he hurts a lot of people, even enjoys it! But sure, he's "rescued" you. If there's one good thing your father taught you it's that you don't argue with people who can hurt you.

So when he told you to pack your things, all you could think to do was comply. All of your clothes and your only photo of your mother fit into a single garbage bag with room to spare.

Your face burned with embarrassment when he asked, "is that really all you have?" But when he followed it by grumbling, "should have finished him off," you go cold. Your best option is the same as always: be quiet, be good.

"I'm gonna take you somewhere safe," Steve informs you in the car. "It's a halfway house, but it's still safer than living with your old man." You nod, relieved he isn't taking you back to his place.

"I'll also be driving you to and from work from now on."

Your eyes widen as you turn to look at him.

"I'm going to worry about you otherwise," he explains. "It'll be a longer trip to work than you're used to and I'd rather give you a ride than put you on the bus with a bunch of strangers."

Your eyebrows furrow on confusion. Does he not realize he's also a stranger?

"You are not to leave the house or the grocery store until I pick you up," he orders. "Do you understand?"

No, you think. But you nod your head yes, trying to placate him.

"If I had things my way you wouldn't even be going to work," he continues. "You'd be kept somewhere safe while you healed up from living with that monster for so long. But I've been told that routines can help and having a job can help your sense of worth. So I'll abide by Boss's rules and take you to Nat. But so help me, you need anything you tell me, ok?"

Again you nod. You don't understand much of what he's talking about, but you know what he wants from you. He's just like your father, he talks you listen.

"If your dad is smart he'll stay away from you. But I'll do some security checks around the halfway house and the grocery store from time to time. Just to make sure he's not lurking."

There's a long silence before he shakes his head at you. "Too in shock to even say 'thank you.' What the hell did he to you?"

"I'm sorry, sir," you blurt. "I didn't know you wanted verbal responses."

He huffs through his nose and places a hand on your knee. "No need to be so formal. Just call me Steve."

"Yes, Steve," you quickly reply. Anything to keep him happy, calm, placated.

When you finally reach your destination your somewhat grateful for Steve's insistence on driving you. You have no idea where you are in relation to Pete's Grocery, let alone where the bus stops are. You'd never had need to know any routes outside your normal ones. You've never been so far away from the familiar buildings.

A redheaded woman steps out the front door and she smiles at you.

"Hello there! Steve texted me that he was bringing another rescue."

Your shoulders relax a little. Maybe he does this a lot. Maybe he's just overly helpful to new "rescues". In any case, this woman seems to be used to him so maybe she can help you with him.

"She's agreed to let me take her to and from work," Steve interjects. "That should make things easier for you."

"Is that true?" Nat gives you a meaningful look.

You should tell the truth, that you didn't know you had other options. But it's also the truth that you agreed to his escorting you. And you were just thinking about how grateful you were to not have to ride the buses.

"Yes, ma'am, it's true."

"Okay then," she smiles. "Let's get you set up here, ok?"

Steve tries to follow into house but Nat stops him.

"Don't you need to report to Barnes?"

He sighs angrily and you freeze up. You wish you were strong like Nat clearly is. You can't imagine standing up to anyone like Steve but she's acting like it's not a big deal.

"I'll make sure she calls you before her next shift," Nat reassures him. "But I need to get her feeling safe and you can be quite intimidating."

Steve looks hurt. "I would never!"

Nat raises her hands in a placating gesture. "I know." She points to the house, "they probably know." She points to you, "she probably knows, too. But you can't always control yourself and I don't need you accidentally triggering these poor people."

He looks at you, "you know I'd never hurt you, right?"

"Yes, Steve," you quickly reassure him.

The response seems to soften his look from angry to grumpy.

"Ok. I'll be back to take her to work around 6 tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Champ," Nat smiles.

As Steve gets in his car he smiles and waves to you. You wave back but your brain keeps thinking, how does he know when my shift starts?

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #soft dark!steve rogers #soft dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mafia!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader

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demigodsanswer · 2 days ago

Note

What's the new au???

It's another modern/non-demigod au, with Tattoo Artist! Annabeth, who is also a single mom working hard to coparent her five year-old. The story starts when she meets her friend/mentor's cousin, who's only just moved back the New York City after getting Ph.D. out in California.

Here's a bit of the draft. Not sure if this will ever actually be something I finish though.

There were already a few people lined up on the sidewalk when Annabeth stepped through the door. Sundays were walk-in days at Electric Tattoo, but it was first come, first serve. She still had half an hour before she needed to serve anyone though.

Electric was a basic street shop that boasted artists who could probably work somewhere more impressive, but didn’t have the energy to deal with the Instagram of it all. Annabeth herself had a decent following, and her books were usually full, but she still appreciated the spontaneity of a walk-in. And Sunday’s were good money. Sophia spent the day with her father, and Annabeth spent the day sticking needles in strangers.

She’d built a pretty robust portfolio in the last few years; she could do just about anything. Geographic tattoos and linework were her favorite though; it was the closest she got to using the architecture degree she finished mostly out of spite in the end. But she’d always like the drafting process, even if she couldn't stand her internships or the industry in the end.

At least, as a tattoo artist, she got to stab the shitty men she dealt with with needles.

“I booked your six o’clock spot already,” Thalia said to her before anything else.

“Good morning,” Annabeth said back. “Who is it?”

“My cousin. I’d do it, but you know how I feel about doing family,” Thalia said. Annabeth didn’t know why she phrased it like that, but she wasn’t in the mood to tease her about it. “I’ve told you about him, I think? Percy? Lived out in Berkeley?”

Annabeth shrugged. “Probably, but I don’t remember,” she said as she walked over to their shitty coffee maker -- the machine and the coffee it produced were sub-par, but it would do.

“You’ll like him,” Thalia promised.

“Last time you set me up with someone you thought I’d really like, I didn’t fall in love, and I got pregnant,” Annabeth reminded her.

“I told you to abort the little crotch goblin,” Thalia teased.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “That crotch goblin is your goddaughter.”

“And I love her very much,” Thalia promised.

Thalia had been her mentor through her tattoo apprenticeship, and then, a fast friend. And for all of her jokes, she was a reliable aunt and baby sitter for Annabeth’s now-five year-old.

Really, Annabeth needed the distraction of a Sunday walk-in day. Sophia spent Saturdays with her father, slept at his house, and didn’t get dropped off to her again until six thirty Sunday night. It wasn’t even a full forty-eight hours, but Annabeth spent just about every Saturday night missing her, whether she stayed home or went out.

She wiped down her station, got her ink, tools, and stencils ready. And then she checked her phone again. Nothing from Luke. Not that she was worried. He was a good and responsible father. But she appreciated a photo here and there, an update.

Annabeth decided to just text him instead: “I have a 6pm, bring her to electric”

Luke just thumbs up reacted.

Things between them had never been particularly romantic. A few okay dates, and some decent sex had really been the extent of it. Until Sophia made herself known to Annabeth a few weeks later.

Annabeth knew she didn’t exactly look like a mom, with arms and legs covered in tattoos, a piercing in her eyebrow, and an undercut (really, her hair was simply too thick to deal with in its entirety), but she had always wanted a baby. And this one was hers. She didn’t expect Luke to want to coparent or be around at all. He made things easier -- financially especially -- but …

Well, there wasn’t really a but. That was what annoyed her so deeply. They could be the perfect family. Mom and Dad just didn’t love each other. Luke had proposed to her when she told him. But Annabeth had just laughed and turned him down. It was more stable for Sophia this way. The less time they spent together, the less likely they were to hate each other in the end.

But Annabeth still looked forward to six thirty.

Thankfully, no one asked her to tattoo any genitals today. Closest she got was some side boob -- laurel wreaths, one on each tit. They came out pretty nice. She might have stolen the idea for herself if her tits still sat up like her client’s did. Breastfeeding had left her flatter than she was used to. But at least she could usually go braless these days.

Annabeth cleared off her bench, disinfecting the surfaces and the equipment as Thalia’s voice got louder and closer to her.

“I can have Hazel re-pierce your ear, if you want,” Thalia offered, tugging on some man’s ear.

“Ow,” he complained. Annabeth stood still and looked at him. He must have been the cousin. Percy, she remembered. He looked more like Thalia than her brother did -- dark hair, strong jaw, just a few inches taller than her, and devastating green eyes.

“This is Annabeth,” Thalia said, gesturing towards her. Annabeth gave a small wave. “She’ll be ruining your arm today.”

Annabeth laughed, insulted. “You taught me. If you think my work is that bad, it’s your fault.”

“It’s not about your work,” Thalia promised. “This idiot,” she pointed to the man, “lost a bet and now gets whatever dumb tattoo my brother picks out.”

“I’m hoping he’s kind to me,” Percy said.

Annabeth forced a smile and looked at Thalia. “I really don’t want to give you a tattoo you don’t want,” she said.

“Bets a bet,” Thalia said.

“It’s really no worries,” Percy said.

“Is it your first tattoo?” Annabeth asked.

“Nope,” he promised her. Then he rolled up his tee shirt sleeve to reveal his shoulder. It was covered in dark linework of waves, with a ship on the sea. The lines were incredibly clean, but for a moment, Annabeth panicked. It was shaded in with reds and purples that for a moment made her think it was painfully infected.

It didn’t take long for her to realize it wasn’t infected at all. It was a very well-healed image of --

“The wine dark sea?” She guessed.

“Yeah!” Percy said. “Thalia told me you were smart.”

“She went to Harvard,” Thalia offered for her.

“Smart enough not to bet on a tattoo,” Annabeth said to him. Well, anymore.

Thalia walked back to her station, leaving Annabeth and Percy relatively alone. Frank had a man on his bench next to her, but they weren’t talking.

“It’s really okay,” Percy promised her. “I knew I was going to lose.”

“What was the bet?” She asked, inviting Percy to sit on the bench while they waited for Jason to make up his mind.

“I’m working on my first book, he just finished his dissertation. Race to the finish. He was way ahead of me, though, just needed a final push to finish before his funding ran out. So, I figured I could sacrifice my forearm to keep him on track,” Percy explained.

Annabeth asked a few more questions and Percy offered answers. He and his cousin were both classicists, he was Greek, Jason was Roman. Jason was at NYU, Percy had been out at UCLA, but then did a postdoc at UC Berkeley. But he’d finally gotten a job at Hunter College. He’d only just moved last week.

“Are you from California?” Annabeth asked. Jason had finally made up his mind, they’d gotten the paperwork signed, and now Annabeth was applying the stencil. SPQR. Easy enough.

“No, no, from New York, although,” he pointed to the New York Yankees logo she’d tattooed on herself just above the knee, “a Mets fan.”

“I really don’t have strong allegiances. I just did this to piss off my Bostonian family more,” Annabeth said.

“Rebellious,” Percy teased. “Thalia told me you’re from San Francisco?”

Annabeth nodded. “Well, sort of. The family is from Boston, but my dad is also a professor. I grew up near West Point, then we moved to Berkeley when I was thirteen.” She pulled the stencil paper away. It looked straight. “There, check out if you like the placement.”

Percy examined it in the mirror, twisting his arm in different positions to make sure he liked it.

“Yeah, looks great!” He said, laying back down. “So, wait, your dad teaches at Berkeley?”

Annabeth nodded. “History department. Twentieth century military stuff, though, you probably wouldn’t have --”

“Is your dad Fred Chase?”

Annabeth pressed her lips together to hold back a sigh before saying, “the one and only.”

“He’s a …” Percy paused, studying her face to see what he should say about him, “very boring man,” Percy said. Annabeth laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, all research, no fun,” Annabeth confirmed.

Percy was looking at her in a new way, like he was trying to piece something together. “You’re his only daughter?”

“Yep,” Annabeth confirmed. His eyes glanced at her chest, and Annabeth knew he figured it out. Her daughter’s name, the first three letters at least, poked through the V neck of her black tee shirt. “He’s mentioned me?” She asked.

“Oh yeah. I mean, I haven’t talked to him a lot, but I mentioned I was from New York. He said he had a daughter and grandkid in the city.”

Annabeth nodded. “Sophia.”

“Where is Sophia today?” Percy asked.

“With her father,” Annabeth said, trying to communicate through tone that Sophia’s father was not someone Annabeth was romantically attached to. “He’ll bring her around later,” and then for good measure, “he gets her on weekends.”

Percy nodded, and then got comfortable, offering her his arm. “He gets her all weekend? Nights too?”

Annabeth turned on the tattoo gun and picked up some ink. “Yeah, why?”

“Just … if you’re single --” the needle made contact and shut him up.

“You’ll still need to pay for the tattoo even if you ask me out,” she said with a teasing smile.

Percy relaxed a bit as he got used to the sensation. Annabeth had it on good authority that she was a very gentle tattooer, actually. Men were just babies.

“Yeah, I assumed,” Percy assured her. “Do you date? I mean, are you single?”

“Am single, and I guess I date.” Truth be told, she didn’t date often. But she wasn’t opposed. Her arrangement with Luke would easily allow for a date here and there, she just … hadn’t dated much. Even before Sophia. Thirty in one month, she wasn’t exactly itching to join dating apps.

“Cool,” Percy said as she finished the first pass on the S. “Are you free next weekend?”

Annabeth smiled. “Let me finish this tattoo and then you can decide if you ever want to see me again,” she said.

As always, her linework was clean, and the tattoo sat straight on his forearm.

“How much?” Percy asked, after it was sanitized and wrapped.

“One hundred,” Annabeth said. It should have been closer to $120, but she’d give him a friends and family discount. Percy handed her his card.

Annabeth turned to the register.

“So your daughter --” Percy started. Annabeth didn’t look up from what she was doing, worried about what he might say or what her face might reveal. “She’s what? Five?”

“Yeah, she turned five in April.”

“Blonde?”

“So, so blonde,” Annabeth said with a faint smile.

“Big fan of Beauty and the Beast?”

Annabeth looked at him. “Did my dad talk about her that much or are you psychic?” She asked.

Percy just pointed to the window. Six thirty.

Luke was holding their daughter as Sophia waved her arms around, trying to get Annabeth’s attention. She was in a new Belle dress up dress. Annabeth had to appreciate that Luke doted on their daughter, but it was hard not to resent him. He got to be the fun gift-giving weekend parent, while Annabeth was stuck with the bath time, nap time, daycare, chores parent. Sophia was starting Kindergarten in the fall. Soon Annabeth would be the homework parent too.

But her building resentments fled her for a moment. She put Percy’s card down and walked quickly towards the front door. Thalia had locked it at six after the last clients had come in for the day.

“Hello beautiful,” Annabeth said as Luke handed Sophia over. She was starting to get too big to be picked up, but Annabeth was still doing her best. “I’m just finishing up,” she said to both of them, letting them inside.

Percy and Luke seemed to recognize each other, and offered some warm words.

“It’s been a while,” Percy said, glancing at Sophia, then back at Luke.

“What? They don’t have Facebook out in California?” Luke asked him, as if to say this wasn’t a secret.

“You know I don’t bother with all that,” Percy said. But Annabeth thought he looked a bit guilty and apologetic for missing … all of this.

“Can I see your tattoo?” Sophia said, pulling on Percy’s shorts leg. Percy squatted down to her height and held out his arm. Sophia stared at it for a second before announcing: “That’s not a word!”

Percy just laughed as Annabeth told her daughter to be polite, before adding, “really good reading, though.” Sophia beamed.

“It’s Latin,” Percy explained, offering her the meaning in Latin then English. Sophia seemed genuinely inspired by the new information, and Annabeth wondered if she’d, despite it all, birthed a tiny scholar.

When he finished his explanation, though, there was a long awkward silence between the three adults as Sophia ran off to find Hazel.

Percy started to excuse himself, realizing that he was the odd man out now. He signed his name on the receipt, leaving Annabeth a more than generous tip. She watched him try to shield the receipt from Luke as he wrote his phone number for her. She hoped this wasn’t some bro code nonsense. Legally, Luke had partial custody of their daughter; he did not have authority over her Saturday nights.

“See you next Saturday?” Annabeth asked as Percy started to leave.

He looked sheepishly at her, but his smile betrayed him. “Yeah, let me know what works?” He said before leaving her alone with Luke.

“You’re going out with him?” Luke asked as he handed over Sophia’s bag.

“Maybe,” Annabeth said, tucking the receipt into her pocket.

“I mean, I’m fine with it. It just … he’s a college professor,” Luke said.

“What, you think I’m not smart enough for a college professor?”

“No, I think your dad is a college professor,” Luke said.

“Don’t be an asshole,” she warned. “How was she this weekend?”

“Great,” Luke said. “She read a bunch of books to me, we watched Beauty and the Beast twice, and we went to the park. No accidents, no injuries, no melt downs.”

That was her girl. She was a bit injury-prone, as she inherited some of Annabeth’s impulsive fearlessness, but otherwise she was a smart, well-behaved girl. She was more than Annabeth thought she deserved.

“Great, and the dress?” Annabeth asked.

“Couldn’t help it. It was too cute,” Luke said. “It makes her happy.”

“I’m not mad about it,” Annabeth promised. “Thank you. It’s sweet. I’ll be in touch about next week. Her Pre-K graduation is on Thursday, don’t forget,” Annabeth said.

“Don’t worry, we also practiced singing ‘God Bless America,’” Luke said. The Pre-K kids were all singing that during the ceremony.

“Well, I still need to clean up here. Feel free to hang out, or take off, whatever,” Annabeth said.

Luke said hi to Thalia, goodbye to Sophia, and goodbye to Annabeth and was gone within a few minutes. “I need to talk to you about something this week,” Luke said. “An idea I had. A surprise for Sophie.”

Annabeth nodded. “Alright, call me whenever,” she said, waving him off.

“Tell Percy I said hello,” were his last words to her before leaving the shop.

Annabeth found Sophia in the back with Hazel, who was marking where Sophia would get her ears pierced with a marker. Annabeth told her she had to be seven to get her ears pierced, but she still insisted on getting the little purple dots on her ears every time she saw Hazel.

“Ready to go, nugget?” Annabeth asked. Sophia nodded and got Hazel’s help getting out of the big chair. “Say thank you,” Annabeth reminded her.

Bay Ridge was decently close to the shop, and not too far from Park Slope where Luke lived, but it was still a long way on the R train. Sophia spent the entire ride asking Annabeth a series of ear-piercing related questions that Annabeth answered honestly, logically, and with as little audible annoyance as she could manage.

But three stops from home, Annabeth suggested they play the quiet game. Her daughter was as competitive as she was smart, and stayed quiet the rest of the ride.

Annabeth’s first words were: “Come on,” when the subway pulled into their stop, and Sophia’s first words were a boastful: “Ha! I win!”

“Princesses don’t brag,” Annabeth said, taking her hand. That might have been a lie. She had no idea what princesses did or didn’t do.

When they finally got back home, Annabeth popped some chicken nuggets in the airfryer, got some steam-in-bag veggies out of the freezer, and wrestled a tiny human out of her new princess dress.

“Come on, you don’t want to get food on it,” Annabeth said as Sophia pouted.

After many chicken nuggets, and a reluctant forkful of vegetables came the bath. Then the bedtime story. Then tucking her in. And kissing her goodnight.

“Love you to the moon and back, sweetie,” Annabeth told her.

“Can I wear my Belle dress to school tomorrow?” Sophia asked.

“No, but I promise you can put it on as soon as you get home, okay?” Annabeth offered.

“Okay.”

“Good night,” Annabeth said.

“Night night,” Sophia offered back.

Annabeth shut her door. It was only nine. A bit late for her bedtime, but Sophia wanted a few extra chapters of The Hobbit, and Annabeth did love that book.

Annabeth unpacked her weekend bag. Sophia’s favorite toys had already come out of it, and her favorite blanket. All that was left were the dirty clothes. One outfit was shoved in a plastic bag, covered in brown goo. Annabeth groaned.

“For fucks sake, Luke --” He’d told her no accidents. Sophia had never even had a poopy accident before. She barely had accidents at all. How long had he ignored her for her to --

Mud, it was mud, she realized when she opened the bag. Sophia had somehow gotten covered in mud. She took a deep breath and let her shoulders relax.

Annabeth took out her phone and texted him anyway.

Annabeth

You could have told me about the muddy clothes

Luke

Shit, sorry, I forgot.

Happened this morning.

She jumped off the swings and landed in a puddle

I keep telling her not to do that

She typed out: no reason to leave it for me to clean but deleted it, in no mood to start a fight.

Annabeth

I know, I keep telling her too.

Maybe we take swings away from her until she stops next time

Luke

I don’t want to be the bad guy

Annabeth

You think I do? I’m proposing a united effort here. I just need to know you’ll back me up.

Luke

Alright, I will.

She just went to the bathroom and dropped the dirty clothes in the shower and started to rinse them out. Her apartment had a washer and dryer, one of two blessings in her life (Sophia, of course, the first one), but she didn’t need it getting covered in Brooklyn mud. She let that wash down the drain.

With the clothes rinsed she started the wash, stripping off her own clothes from the day to throw in with them.

Her hand slipped into her pockets, checking to make sure she didn’t wash another pair of headphones. She found Percy's receipt. She smiled. She typed the phone number into her contacts, before putting the receipt in her bag. The shop would actually need that to charge him and make sure she got her tip.

Annabeth

Hey, it’s Annabeth

He’d texted back by the time she got out of the shower.

Percy

Hey!

Annabeth

I’ll be honest, I was hoping for a better pick up line

Percy

Shit, okay hold on let me think of one

How about: you are an SPQ-T?

Annabeth

It’ll do

They didn’t talk much. She asked about his tattoo; he confirmed their dinner plans. He asked about Sophia, if she had a good weekend, that sort of thing.

Percy

She’s adorable. Looks just like you

Except blank

Annabeth laughed.

Annabeth

She’s constantly in trouble at school for drawing on her arms and her friends’ arms.

Percy

She’ll be a great artist one day I’m sure

Annabeth

Her dream career is artist princess mommy

That’s exactly what she’ll tell you if you ask

Percy

Not a bad collection of jobs

Annabeth finally asked the question she did need an answer for before anything else went forward.

Annabeth

Do you like kids?

Percy

I love kids

Can’t wait for my own honestly

Annabeth

So you’re alright with me having a kid?

Percy

Yeah for sure

It’s not like she’s going anywhere anyway. Wouldn’t have asked you out if it wasn’t okay.

Annabeth

Were you and Luke close growing up?

Percy

Eh, he was always Thalia’s friend. He mostly tried to pressure me into stealing candy and shit.

Us going out wouldn’t be weird to me

Is it weird for him?

Annabeth

He hasn’t really said anything about it

Percy

Is it weird for you?

Annabeth

Percy

Good, that’s all that matters to me 😁

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #luke castellan #percabeth #thalia grace #admittedly light on the percabeth #tattoo au #my writing

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seamany · 2 days ago

Text

The post that solved it all for me PART 1

NOT MY POST, THIS IS MOBILEBLACKSMITH2535 VIA REDDIT

(It might sound like I'm yelling at you in this paragraph but these are just things I wish someone told me like years ago) Here is where I talk about everything law of assumption that helped me ACTUALLY become a master manifestor. The law of assumption, as I see it, is the law of being. You cannot experience what you are not being. Coming from a person that used to cry myself to sleep every night feeling frustrated, hopeless, and extremely tired of putting all this effort into something and getting absolutely nothing back, this shit is real. Please do not take this post with a grain of salt. Please do not toss my story in with the probably hundreds of other "I have shifted" threads/videos you have witnessed. If you want to shift listen to every word that I say. I can't explain why we have this power I just know that from November of 2020 to July of 2023 I have been working my ass of to get somewhere, anywhere. In between those 3 years I had an on and off behavior towards shifting. I used to force myself to forget about shifting for a few weeks because it hurt too much to think about it. I felt like I won the lottery and I couldn't cash in the money. It was awful and I wouldn't wish that feeling of hopelessness on any other conscious being. Sometimes I would watch shifting tik tok compilation videos on YouTube and get a surge of motivation that would soon die out along with any semblance of dignity and self-esteem I had left. I'm telling you not asking you to see me as a real completely sane person because that is exactly what I am. Even though I'm creative and spiritual (not religious, spiritual), I can't help but see things logically. It's just my nature. I like patterns, formulas, structured systems, explanations, science, etc. I knew the probability of hundreds upon thousands of people describing in detail their experience of shifting couldn't be a phenomenon but a real...thing. I, for some reason, never doubted the possibility of shifting, more my capability to do it. Along my journey I've had my moments of distrust surrounding shifting in itself, and as I rounded onto the 3rd year of attempts I had increasing feelings of dread and anger. I was angry at the world that I live in, feeling dreadful that I couldn't escape it all. Then on one fateful fateful day, specifically July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am, I shifted. It was easy and it was effortless. Just as everyone says, but that's not something I'd like to focus on in today's post. I'm not making this post to tell you how simple shifting is or to "let go" (whatever the fuck that means) or to change your mindset. Those things are all useless compared to the thing that just clicked for me on July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am. What I am going to tell you is going to be so stupidly straightforward that your mind isn't going to want to believe me at first. You are going to try to make it more complicated than it is, just like you probably did with shifting when you first learned about it. But assure you that you should take what I am about to say at face-value. You don't need to let go, you don't need to change anything about yourself, you don't need to "release blockages", you don't need to reprogram your subconscious mind. You are done. You have your desire already. You are finished and there is nothing left for you to do.

LOOK AT MY PAGE FOR PART TWO

#reality shifter #law of assumption #loa tumblr #reality shifting #shifting #shifting blog #loa #loassblog #loassumption #loa blog #itsreallymine #voidstate #pure consciousness #voidmethod #void #desired reality #shifting community

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hannahbarberra162 · 2 days ago

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A Negative Outcome, Part 4

Infinite thank you to @gouraminnow who helped me so very very much with this chapter.

The other chapters | on Ao3

TW: angst and not much comfort here but there will be a lot in the next chapter.

Thatch POV

It had been a long time since Marco had been in trouble with Pops. Thatch remembered a time when he first joined the Whitebeard Pirates where Marco had killed someone they wanted for information and Pops had been mad about it. But that was decades ago and Thatch hadn’t seen a repeat performance since. Marco was always doing the right thing, making correct judgements, and trying his best to guide the crew under the supervision of Pops. Which is why nearly half the crew was on deck pretending to be working while listening in, himself included. You were resting in his room, exhausted after the long day and donating so much blood. Thatch had heard Marco’s statements that you shouldn’t be so tired but Thatch had been around long enough to know there was more to a person than just their body.

“My son, it was the wrong choice,” Pops chided Marco lightly. Pops didn’t need to use a harsh tone or to yell, the effect on Marco was devastating. He looked like he was wilting under Pops’ softly spoken words even as he looked directly at their Captain. Thatch had been in Marco’s position before and it was undeniably worse when Pops was disappointed rather than angry .

“She was harmed under our care, she needed time to recuperate,” Pops continued.

“But chemotherapy doesn’t work like that, I can’t just suddenly -” Marco tried to interrupt and throw his weight as the doctor on the crew. Whitebeard stopped him with a glance.

“I’ve lived a long time, Marco. One day would not have mattered,” was all Whitebeard had to say in order for Marco to hang his head. The quiet across the deck was louder than any argument could ever be. Holding himself high once more, Marco looked his Captain in the eye.

“But I… - of course. I’ll…make amends,” Marco replied. Thatch wondered how he would do so given the tension that radiated from you any time Marco came near. Thatch had to spend the majority of his time in the infirmary that afternoon calming and soothing you after Marco had chased you down in the kitchens. Thatch had heard Marco apologize many times but he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard it after Marco had fucked up. Maybe it would be good for the doctor to be humbled slightly, maybe you’d get better treatment from Marco or at least be allowed to live a little more. Thatch finished clearing Pop’s dishes and left to bring them back to the galley. He wanted to be in the room when Marco sought you out to make sure the interaction went as smoothly as possible.

Marco POV

Marco shifted into his Phoenix form as he took his leave from Pops and launched himself into the air, soaring high above the ship. He wanted a few moments of privacy to gather himself before he went to go find you. He needed to center and control his emotions before he talked to you lest he make the relationship between you worse. Which…he wasn’t sure was possible right now. When you told him how you fucking hated him and your facial expression held more emotion during that declaration than he’d seen in weeks.

Marco had tried to empathize with you as best he could but he never got very far. His devotion to Whitebeard was so strong, he’d do anything to make his Captain’s health improve. He already had by betraying his oath to do no harm and keeping you aboard the ship. Marco would gladly have traded six hours of his day for Whitebeard, it wasn’t like you were working hard. All you had to do was sit in a chair with your arm on an arm rest and relax. And yes, he knew that you missed your family and friends but it wasn’t like he had murdered you. You’d eventually make your way back to them - Marco knew that even with his assistance Whitebeard was mortal and would eventually pass away. It was a temporary adventure in your life, and frankly, most people would go gaga for the opportunity to sail with Whitebeard. You could be having the time of your life but you chose to spend it moping about the ship.

What really ruffled Marco’s feathers was everyone was acting like he was the villain, like Marco was the one who was responsible for your torment and despair. Yes, it had been his plan, but everyone commented on how well Pops has been doing, how healthy he looked, how lively Pops was lately. It didn’t go unnoticed by the crew how vigorously Pops crushed Teach’s lifeless body once the traitor had finally been defeated. Everyone was pleased with the outcome but they didn’t want to get their own hands dirty by taking care of you. It was easy to accuse Marco of being unsympathetic and cold but no one was helping you escape, were they? Everyone wanted you to remain and to use your blood but they didn’t want to have to feel bad about it. Marco shook his head trying to clear the negative thoughts. He needed to figure out some way to apologize for making you give blood without causing further deterioration to your relationship. He lazily tightened the circles he was flying in and flew down to land on the deck. He went below deck after shifting back into his human form, finally ready to speak to you. He had to remain sensitive, this was probably the first time you’d had a near death experience. Even before he ate his Devil Fruit, being a pirate came with a certain level of risk. Marco was used to the danger of the high seas but that would be foreign to you as a civilian. Keeping that in mind, Marco headed towards Thatch’s cabin where he assumed you were. You’d hardly left the Commander’s side since Teach had tried to murder you, likely in an attempt to make yourself feel more secure. Listening from outside the cabin, he heard Thatch speaking to you in his deep voice and you responding occasionally to his questions.

Your POV

There was no other way to say it - you were hiding in Thatch’s room after your time in the infirmary. You felt completely depleted in mind, body, and spirit as you looked through the assorted books Thatch had in his room. Turned out he liked poetry and once upon a time you had too. But since you’d been brought on the ship your interest had dwindled. You ran your finger down the spine of a familiar book, a popular volume of romantic poems. At some point you thought all you ever wanted out of life was someone to care for you and love you like the people in the poems but it turned out you craved more important things - like freedom and autonomy. Even so, you plucked the slim book off the shelf and turned it over in your hands, opening it to the bookmarked spot Thatch had left.

A knock at the door had you whimpering in distress. You were never so jumpy before coming on the ship but now you startled at the tiniest noise. The door opened to reveal a concerned looking Thatch on the other side. Your cheeks heated as the chef came closer to check on you again. Thatch had been practically babysitting you since the events of the previous day and you felt awful for taking up so much of his precious time. You didn’t want to be a burden on the one person who seemed to care how you were feeling and maybe gave a shit about you.

“How ya doin’ Baby Pie?” Thatch asked, approaching you slowly. You tried to put on a cheery front so he didn’t come home to a dour loser every time he wanted to rest in his room.

“I’m good. I’m just, um, relaxing. I’m gonna go though, sorry. You can have your room back, I’m sure you want some alone time,” you said apologetically, closing the book and moving to replace it on the shelf near the couch before you left.

“I don’t want alone time, I came to see you. And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. You don’t have to go back to that other room,” Thatch said quietly. You hadn’t actually thought about where you’d go if Thatch wanted his room back. The thought of going back to the room where you nearly died wasn’t in the realm of possibility for you. Maybe you could find a room in the infirmary that was far from the phlebotomy room? But Marco wouldn’t go for that, you didn’t even have to ask. Beds were scarce and needed to injured crew, not frightened civilians.

“What’re you thinkin’ about Porkchop?” Thatch asked, plopping down on the small couch in his cabin. He held out his arms and spread his legs, a silent call for you to come sit on his lap. It felt childish to constantly seek out touch but you feet were propelling themselves towards the chef anyway. As you neared he scooped you up and placed you in his lap, wrapping his warm arms around you. You leaned into him, even the smell of oil imbued his chef’s coat not ruining your moment.

“Porkchop?” you asked lightly, nuzzling into him. You felt there was something building between the two of you but you didn’t want to address it right now. You were a little vulnerable and wanted some leeway in case your growing feelings weren’t reciprocated. You’d live in delusion land for just a bit longer before you brought yourself back to reality and talked to Thatch about your crush.

“Mm. Guess that wasn’t one of my better ones, eh? You can go back to being Sugar,” Thatch teased, squishing you between his muscled arms. He gently took the book from your hands, turning it over so the cover was showing. “You like poetry?” he asked softly, the fingers of his other hand drawing circles on your thigh.

“Yeah, guess so,” you answered, eyes already closing. You hadn’t been able to truly rest without Thatch around, feeling too unsafe and anxious to fall asleep. Eventually you would have to get over it and be an adult again but the chef was too comforting for your own good. A knock at the door had you stiffening up immediately. Thatch’s arms tightened around you as he beckoned to whoever was behind the door. You bristled as you saw Marco pushing in the door, his face sour like he’d eaten a crate of lemons. If Thatch wasn’t there you would have tried to take your chances by running again but you knew there was no way that you’d be able to escape the two of them together. But maybe Marco wasn’t there to talk to you, maybe he needed more from you, more time in the phlebotomy room, more blood coming out of your arm -

“I did six hours! I promise! I can’t - please -” you went straight to begging, trying to push Thatch’s arms off of you.

“No no. It’s not that yoi. You did fine today. I came to apologize to you,” Marco stated plainly. You didn’t respond, unsure what Marco was playing at. He’d never apologized to you before, why was he starting now? Sure he made you give blood the day after you were almost murdered but that was practically par for the course. You knew he didn’t feel bad about kidnapping you or using you but you were curious what he would say.

“I’m going to give the two of you privacy but I won’t be far,” Thatch said, taking you off his lap and placing you on the small couch. You made a small sound of protest and looked up at him with doleful eyes. You didn’t want to be left alone with Marco, especially not after you told him off not too long prior. Marco didn’t seem to take anything you said too personally but you also hadn’t told him to fuck off before either. After Thatch left the room it became awkward and quiet as you waited for Marco to continue his thought. Marco came inside and shut the door, leaving just the sound of the waves against the sides of the ship.

“I came to apologize for making you donate -”

“Give,” you corrected Marco. You’d never been so bold before but maybe almost dying would do that to a person.

“Pardon?” Marco asked, now crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“I don’t donate my blood. You take it,” you replied. You wished that your voice had held out for the whole sentence - you squeaked out the end. Marco bristled and you scooted backwards, putting more distance between the two of you.

“Yes, I suppose that's true yoi,” Marco conceded as he set his jaw. You regretted saying anything - if Marco was in the mood to play nice you shouldn't have spoiled it. Marco closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath before he continued, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers along his bicep, as if this entire conversation was irritating him.

“As I was saying, I am sorry for taking your blood today. I should have listened to you and let you rest. As a doctor, I know the importance of mental health as it affects the body and it was an oversight in my error to not let you recover yoi. You can have tomorrow off even though it does affect Whitebeard’s chemotherapy schedule,” Marco finished waving his hand in your direction. He paused as if he was waiting for something.

“Thank you,” you gritted out through your teeth. Marco didn’t seem to notice your tone but did give you a curt nod as if he was expecting your thanks, like he was granting you a huge favor for not forcibly taking your blood for one single fucking day. You wanted to roll your eyes and kick him out but it wasn’t your room in the first place.

“I hope you understand how much this affects everyone else yoi,” Marco said coldly. You wanted to retort back that being nearly murdered affected you badly when the door creaked open again.

“Marco, your apology sucks,” Thatch said, folding his arms across his chest. Marco bristled but didn’t say anything further. “No man, come on. Say something real,” Thatch prodded Marco as he blocked the door with his wide frame and tacitly prevented Marco from leaving. Marco looked at his brother, shifting his weight onto one foot. He exhaled and walked over, sitting down near you on the couch. You’d been near Marco many many times but never in a casual setting like this. You almost gave him your arm out of reflex but were able to stifle the impulse at the last moment. Marco considered you with his blue eyes, like he was really seeing you as a person for the first time. He put his hands on his knees and began speaking to you softly.

“I am sorry you were almost killed. I truly am. That shouldn’t have happened and you’re not used to anything remotely like that. I’m not going to say I understand because I don’t and I can’t imagine how terrified you must have been yoi. I know you didn’t choose to be here with us and that you’d rather be home. I know. So for what it’s worth, I am sorry that you almost died. It wasn’t your fault and I’m not sure how much my promise to keep you safe is worth anymore yoi.” Marco gazed at you intensely while he spoke. You didn’t know where to look so you kept your eyes trained on your lap. Marco continued in the same calm tone.

“That being said, no, I’m not sorry for what I did today. You’re not the most important person on the ship. I’m not the most important person on the ship - it has always been and will always be Whitebeard. So yes, you get tomorrow off to recover but after that you have to go back yoi. None of us have a choice. I wish things were different, that I could drop you off on the next island, but life isn’t that simple. There’s a lot hanging in the balance, a lot more than you know. There are so many people, islands, territories that need Whitebeard’s protection. Even though you don’t want to be here, you play an important role in the fate of the world and I can’t let you go. Not yet. Can you understand that? Or at least try?”

You blinked rapidly at Marco’s statements, this the most raw emotion you’d ever heard from Marco since you’d met him. He always kept his true feelings guarded, crafting each sentence carefully to construct a meaning that didn’t necessarily match his own opinions. You preferred this real Marco to the palatable version he presented to you - at least you knew where you stood now. You looked at him as he waited for you to respond, his half lidded eyes still studying you.

“O-okay. I understand,” you said quietly, turning over Marco’s words in your mind. Thatch stood up and moved in the room giving Marco space to leave. Marco nodded at you and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and looked over at a gently smiling Thatch.

“Seems like we have a day to plan,” he said, clapping his hands together.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t think - you still have to work though, right? It’s just me, I wasn’t expecting -” Thatch crossed the room and sat back down right next to you on the couch. Reaching onto the bookshelf he pulled off a large thesaurus and opened it, revealing a bottle of rum hidden inside. Uncorking it, he took a swig and offered it to you as well. You must have looked surprised because Thatch furrowed his brow in mock confusion.

“What? It’s the least likely book for anyone to pick up. They’d have to first use the dictionary to find out what a thesaurus is. Anyway I got good crew under me, they can handle everything for a day. We’re celebrating starting tonight, take a sip,” he said, pushing the bottle into your hands. You hadn’t had alcohol since Marco had banned you after catching you drinking three beers. The hard liquor burned your throat as it went down, warming you all the way.

“What’re we celebrating?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“You,” he said, laying a muscled arm across your back, his hand hooking around your upper arm. He pulled you into his own body, your head now leaning against his own shoulder. You snorted but didn’t object as you handed back the bottle to Thatch.

A few hours later you stumbled out of Thatch’s room. You really didn’t have all that much to drink but your tolerance was low from abstaining for so long. You wanted to catch a shower in the women’s bathroom before you went to bed - you hadn’t had a proper one since before the…event. Walking down the now dark hallway towards the women’s quarters, you heard a conversation in progress. You thought you heard your name so you waited before turning the corner, curious to hear what the crew was saying about you.

“Tough break for that Bloodbag, eh?” you heard someone say around the corner. They called you - Bloodbag…? Is that what everyone referred to you as when you weren’t around? You waited where you were, you wanted to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation even though you were already on the verge of tears.

“Yeah, I mean who knew Teach had it in him? Not the killing, killing her would be easy. I’m saying the betrayal part -”

“I know, to hurt your own crew -”

“Well, she’s not crew exactly, she’s more like -”

“Like Marco’s pet, or medicine for Pops or whatever. Still would suck to be murdered by Teach though. Nasty bastard had to be put down by Captain himself. But yeah, I get you, it’s like stabbing Pops yourself. Good thing she lived,” someone continued.

“Yeah, then we would have had to find another Bloodbag. It took so long to find that one in the first place, we’d have to start all over again…” the second man trailed off as their voices and footsteps receded while they walked down the hall towards the infirmary.

Oh.

Your mind went blank as you processed what you heard, standing in the hallway unmoving for a few moments. Being tipsy didn’t help as you replayed their words in your mind over and over. You began to move robotically towards the bathrooms again, gripping your towel tightly in your hands. You didn’t really know how to feel at that moment - in some ways you were happy that the bandage had been ripped off your wound. You always suspected that the crew didn’t care about you and this had confirmed it. At least these two were being honest as opposed to Marco and Thatch and Whitebeard or anyone else who was kind of nice to you.

You spaced out for some time while your body continued to move. Your brain was consumed with going over the overheard conversation and you later found yourself in the women’s bathrooms. You were sitting in the communal bath, staring at the tiled floor wringing a washcloth between your hands. Your fingers, toes and palms were wrinkly, clueing you to the fact that you’d been in there for a while and the soreness in your fingers meant you’d been wringing the cloth for a while. None of that really mattered though. Even though the water was now cool you remained in the bath, sinking down to your neck. A firm knock resounded on the door, breaking you from your trance and making the water slosh as you sat up quickly.

“Who - who is it?” you called out. Any of the nurses wouldn’t have knocked and you guessed a killer would have just come right in.

“It’s Marco,” a familiar but muffled voice said through the thick wood. Drying yourself in a towel and covering your body in a fluffy robe, you padded towards the door. Cracking it open you saw it was indeed Marco and you pushed it open more widely.

“S-sorry, was I in here too long?” you asked, tucking your wet hair behind your ear.

“Yes, and now you’re cold but that’s not why I’m here yoi. I think we both overheard a conversation earlier that wasn’t ideal,” he said, his earlier casualness forgotten.

“You mean the bloodbag thing? I mean it wasn’t great but -” you started, minimizing your feelings. Maybe you’d journal or something later but now that you knew how things really were you didn’t feel like pouring your heart out to Marco again.

“It wasn’t appropriate and those involved are being punished -”

“Not appropriate? I - you're gonna try and deny it? Gonna try and tell me I'm anything else? I don’t care and I don’t have the energy for this. Thanks for the day off tomorrow, I’ll see you the day after," you said, shrugging your shoulders. You sidled past Marco, walking out of the bathroom. Marco extended his arm but retracted his hand, letting you pass without further incident.

You didn't know where to go now that you were tired and ready for bed - in your foolish heart you wanted to go back to Thatch’s room. But after that blood bag conversation you weren't sure if he actually enjoyed your presence or just spent time with you out of obligation to his captain. It would certainly make sense for Marco and Thatch to work together, you were much more compliant for Thatch than you were for Marco. Maybe they were playing you off one another to get you more amicable to the situation you were in. You passed the turn to Thatch's hall but kept going, avoiding the now familiar room.

You plodded on until you reached your old room, the one that - you pushed that memory out of your head as you opened the door and looked around. Someone had cleaned your walls and brought in new furniture to replace the broken furnishings. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the room and shut the door.

#blood bag au #op x y/n #marco the phoenix #x reader #marco op #whitebeard crew #thatch one piece #reader x thatch #thatch x reader

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veritas-scribblings · 2 days ago

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4. home | words: 1945 | [out of control <- previous part | next part -> mirror]

(December, 1975)

Regulus is fourteen when Sirius leaves home. He wants to say it he didn’t see it coming, but he did. Sirius has been rebelling for years. Not folding in on himself, but projecting out into the world around. Sirius, with his loud music and his muggle posters. Sirius, who sasses their parents and hides away in his room. Sirius, who came home one day with a tattoo and a piercing.

Regulus has seen this coming for years, so he doesn’t know why it takes him off guard. Why it upsets him. Why it enrages him.

And why it makes him afraid.

When James Potter finds Regulus, Regulus is pulling his trunk off the train. Almost ten minutes has passed since the train arrived at the platform and he has already waved off Barty, Evan and Pandora. And now he’s just waiting: impatient, annoyed, and very much ready to ditch his brother and leave for home alone.

James barricades the train door nervously, awkwardly, his glasses on the end of his nose and his hair more ruffled and windswept than usual. Like he’s been running his fingers through it.

Regulus doesn’t have anything against James. He never has, because honestly, he’s never had that much to do with James. James is a typical quidditch player: bold and cocky, performative and aggressive in the way that boys are typically aggressive. He’s clever, Regulus knows. Things come easily to James. He’s never had to try.. And yet, there’s something really stupid and simple about the boy, because of course James has to be an enigma.

He has a whole lot of intelligence and yet missed out on the basic common sense.

James shifts in front Regulus, gives him a smile that is not very convincing. “Can we talk?” he asks. The butterflies in Regulus’s stomach are drunk, battering and tumbling inside him. And Regulus is weak.

“Where’s your shadow?” Regulus says sceptically. “Tell him he’s late and we have to go. I don’t care what shag-of-the-week he’s saying farewell to.”

James pauses, bites his lip, and says so earnestly, in a single, hurried, tangled breath, “You can come too. You should come too.”

And that’s when Regulus knows. He doesn’t need to hear anything else. Because Sirius has been talking about it for years. He’s been threatening it for years. That he’ll leave. That he’s “out of here as soon as he can”. Saying, “this place is fucked”. Saying that they’re fucked. Telling Regulus, “they can only hurt you if you let them,” disdainfully. Like he’s better than that.

Like he’s more than that, and Regulus isn’t. For letting it hurt him. For letting it happen. For caring.

James has been speaking, but Regulus hasn’t heard him. The world in his head is silence, and the world outside silent. “I mean it,” James says. “Come home with me. My parents, they’ll love to have you too.” And he does mean it, Regulus knows. James is so sincere, on the outside and the inside. All performative facades of his quidditch player-ness have been dropped.

“You’re taking him home with you, then,” Regulus says flatly.

“Well, yes. You’ll come home with me. Sirius is…”

That’s when the silence disappears and all Regulus hears is noise and rage. And if James finishes the sentence, Regulus doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. Because he knows Sirius is gone. He’s left. He didn’t wait. And he will not ask. “And why would I do that?”

“Reg…”

“It’s Regulus.”

“Regulus, I know how things are. No—no, really. I do. I know. And, well, it doesn’t have to be that way. You shouldn’t have to live that way. Come home with me. Us. Me and Sirius.”

Regulus sneers. He twirls his wand which is tethered to his trunk and pulls his trunk fully off the train. “I’m not Sirius. I’ve never given our parents a reason to hate me.” He says this coldly. Icily. Into the silence and the rage and the noise of the world around them.

“You shouldn’t have to earn your parents love. They should love because you’re you. In spite of you being you. Just because, you know, they’re your parents.”

Regulus leaves James standing at the mouth of the train and makes his way across the platform, through the crowd that has started to disperse. What world does James live in in? Love is always conditional. And Regulus isn’t fool enough to believe he has his parents love. But he knows he doesn’t have their contempt. Their hostility. Not the way that Sirius does.

He’s made sure of that.

Sirius is sixteen when he leaves Grimmauld Place. He feels sick: nauseated and dizzy. His stomach has been flip-flopping. He wants to throw up. He wants to scream. He wants to run circles through the streets around the Potters house. He wants to do cartwheels. He wants to do backflips.

He doesn’t want to ring the doorbell or enter the house. Because what if they turn him away? What if they hate him, or what if they come to hate him? If they decide he’s no longer welcome. That he’s bothersome. That he is a burden.

Because he won’t be able to bear that. He’ll die a sad and lonely little death.

Rationally, Sirius knows that this isn’t true. James has reassured him that he’s welcome. That they’ll love to have him. They’ll be thrilled to have a new son. That he can stay as long as he wishes. That they actually won’t want him to leave. Ever.

But there’s a niggling little voice in his head, bitter and hateful and sinister. Telling him that this is not true. That it is a lie. That he’s not enough. He’ll never be enough.

Sirius paces the doorstep of the Potter house. Back and forth. Back and forth. Hands wringing. He kicks his trunk angrily, swears angrily when he stubs his toe. Kicks the trunk again in revenge. Curses. Wonders if he hexes it, will the ministry know now he’s no longer at Grimmauld Place?

Maybe his parents will come for him. Maybe they’ll drag him back kicking and screaming and cursing. Or maybe they won’t, because maybe they’re glad his gone. That the Black family disappointment is no longer their problem. Farewell. Sayonara. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

And then the door swings open. James stands before him, a vision of smiles and messy hair and smudged glasses. He grabs Sirius’s trunk and lugs it inside as Sirius stands rooted to the spot. Unable to move. Just staring, mouth open. Does he come inside? Does he wait outside? Does he help James with the trunk? Is it rude not to?

“Dad thinks I should leave you out here. He wants to see how long it takes you to decide to come inside,” James says with a grunt, hefting the trunk along the carpet. “Mum thought that was mean, said to bring you inside, you’re going to catch your death, apparently. I told her you’re invincible. She doesn’t believe me.”

Sirius’s anxiety is like a thousand little snitches racing through his blood. James grabs his arm and pulls him inside so suddenly, Sirius almost trips on the doorframe and falls flat on his face. James has abandoned Sirius’s trunk by the wall. It’s askew, blocking the hallway. For the briefest of moments, Sirius panics, because his parents would have a fit.

And then he remembers: he’s no longer at Grimmauld Place. James’s parents are different. Normal. They don’t yell. They don’t get mad the way his parents get mad at things like leaving trunks in the middle of the hallway. They won’t call James useless, lacking in common sense.

And maybe James will fall over it later. Honestly, he probably will. He falls over things in their dormitory all the time.

Will James’s parents complain? Perhaps. Sirius doesn’t know, he just knows his parents don’t act the way normal parents act.

Suddenly, James wraps Sirius in a hug and Sirius almost jumps out of his skin. But the warmth of James makes something inside Sirius uncoil and Sirius finds himself melting into James arms. It feels like home.

The Potter house smells sweet like honey with undertones of incense. Effie and Fleamont are sitting in the kitchen, Fleamont with books open strewn across the dinner table, Effie with a pot of tea and the more recent edition of the Daily Prophet.

“Mum made…well, these little pancake things, they’re stuffed with…sugar,” James says. “They’re really good.”

Fleamont and Effie smile at Sirius, who can’t help but feel like an intruder, for all the warmth and welcome in their smiles. They don’t look at all surprised that he’s here, so maybe James warned them. Or they’re the kind of people to just take things in their stead.

“Would you like some tea?” Fleamont says. His voice is gentle, like he doesn’t want to startle Sirius, who already feels rather like a horse primed to bolt.

“No thank you, sir.”

Fleamont chuckles. “It’s just Flea,” he says.

Effie stands and crosses the room to wrap him in a hug that feels like a James-hug. Because apparently the Potters hug. It’s their thing, James says, like this is perfectly normal for a family. And it very well could be, but Sirius wouldn’t know anything about that.

“We’re very glad you’re here with us,” Effie whispers by his ear, a secret just for him. And then louder, “You must be tired then. James, take him upstairs. Make a room for him.”

James grabs Sirius’s hand and tugs him out of the kitchen, up the staircase, Effie’s yell of, “There’s fresh linen in the cupboard!” following after them. He deposits Sirius in a room nearby his own. The room is smaller than the one Sirius had back at Grimmauld Place and significantly less elaborate. There is a double bed in the middle of the room, an old free-standing wardrobe, shelves lined with old books.

“This is going to be great,” James says with a grin. He’s watching Sirius cautiously as though he’s worried that Sirius will break.

It’s a valid concern, because Sirius is sure he’s already broken beyond repair. And there it is, the tiny voice inside his head, all sinister and hateful, whispering that they’ll find this out about him.

Something doesn’t feel right. His stomach churns, a sensation of guilt. He’s unsure whether he feels guilty that he’s burdening them or he feels guilty that he’s left his parents or if he feels guilty that…

“I asked him,” James says. “To come.”

There it is. The whisper is a roaring in his head. “And I asked you not to,” Sirius says. He can’t help how dark and angry it comes out. “I take it he said no. I told you he’d say no.”

Of course Regulus would say no. Why would he agree to come? They’ve never been close. If anything, they’ve always been combative. Competitive. Resentful of one another. There are times when Sirius regrets this; wants more for them. There are times when he knows that this is through no fault of their own.

That their parents have been pitting them against each other since they were old enough to acknowledge each other’s presence.

But these times are far and few between.

There is no way that Regulus would come. Because their parents don’t hate him they way they hate Sirius, and Sirius knows that this is in part his fault. Perhaps mostly his fault. Or all his fault.

They do not have any reason to hate Regulus the way they hate him.

So of course Regulus would not come.

He has no reason to.

#harry potter #fanfiction #myfanfiction #microfics #sirius black #James potter #regulus black #marauders era #jegulus

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kpopimaginings · 3 days ago

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Intense - Seonghwa (NSFW)

A/N: This was a bit inspired by the clip of Seonghwa talking about how much Atiny seem to like pictures of him with things in his mouth.

CW: strap-on, dom/sub vibes, sub!seonghwa, use of safeword

You had a weird love of your boyfriends lips and he had become aware of the fact. He would comment on the great reception from fans if he posed touching his lips or with something in his mouth. This sparked the conversation that led to the purchase of a strap-on.

Arriving home one day, Seonghwa greeted you at the door with a rather sheepish expression on his face.

"Hi, jagi."

"Why do you sound guilty?" you questioned immediately.

"I was a bit excited and I opened the post without you," he explained, producing the strap-on from behind his back.

You felt an instant shift in your demeanor as the air thickened.

"Now?" you asked.

Seonghwa simply nodded, handing you the toy and heading to the bedroom. With a smile on your face you followed your boyfriend, watching as he pulled off his shirt and grabbed a pillow to kneel on so that he was ready for you. Following suit, you got yourself ready, positioning the toy around your hips. Even just the sight of your beautiful boyfriend kneeling on the floor, watching you attentively with his wide eyes was enough to turn you on.

As you finally took your place in front of him you checked in one last time.

"Are you sure you're ok with this?" you asked. As excited as you were to explore this new kink, you needed to make sure he was comfortable with it and not just indulging you.

He nodded again. "Yeah, I want to try this."

It was your turn to nod now as you stepped closer to him. He reached out to stroke the length of the toy. You stayed still for a while, allowing him to familiarise himself with it, slowly starting to kiss, lick and suck at the strap-on at his own pace.

The moment you watched his plush lips delicately envelop the tip, you knew this toy was going to be a great investment. As you noticed him getting more and more comfortable, you threaded your fingers through his hair, gently encouraging him to take more of it into his mouth. You heard yourself let out an involuntary moan at the sight in front of you.

The grip you had on his hair tightened as you felt a new sensation wash over you. The urge to push Seonghwa's face further down the length of the toy grew as you started to lose yourself. You imagined how hot it would be to hear him gagging around it, to push your hips forwards. Your thoughts ran away with you as you lost yourself to the images in your mind.

Managing to see through the haze that was now clouding your brain, you knew that would be a lot to put Seonghwa through on your first session with this new dynamic. You quickly managed to use your grip on his hair to pull him away and take a few steps back before you froze, a distant, far off gaze in your eyes.

"Jagi?" Seonghwa asked, wiping the drool from his chin and climbing to his feet. "Hey, is everything ok?" he spoke again, placing his hands on your shoulders, clearly concerned.

You simply hummed in acknowledgment of his words and took hold of his wrists as you took some deep breaths, trying to ground yourself.

"I just... I-I felt..." you couldn't manage to finish a sentence, your eyes flicking about but still not quite focusing on anything.

"It's ok angel, can you look at me?" Seonghwa asked, moving his hands to cup your face, your grip on his wrists never faltering as he moved.

As calm as he was appearing for you, your boyfriend couldn't help but worry, he'd never seen you like this. He simply stayed in front of you, watching and waiting for your gaze to focus on him.

The gentle strokes of his thumbs along your cheek bones helped to slowly pull you back to him.

"I'm sorry," you told him.

"It's ok," he assured you, looking at you with eyes full of affection. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I just kind of felt myself slipping way, losing control. I was worried I'd get carried away and hurt you if I didn't stop."

"But you stopped and I'm not hurt, just worried about you."

You finally moved then, pulling him closer and nuzzling into him as you hugged him tight.

"Thank you," you mumbled. "Thank you for looking after me."

"You don't need to thank me. It's my job as your boyfriend," he said as he began to stroke your hair. "Why don't we get that off you and just snuggle for a bit?"

"Sounds perfect," you told him, pulling back to smile up at him. "But I would like to try this again sometime. I was actually really enjoying it."

Seonghwa helped you out of the strap as he continued the conversation. "Yeah, we definitely can. I got more into it than I thought I would."

"Good," you said as he pulled his top back on.

"Come on then, angel," he said, taking your hand before leading you to the sofa for all the cuddles and soft kisses you could possibly need.

NAVIGATION | ATEEZ MASTERLIST

#seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa ateez #seonghwa smut #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa oneshot #ateez #ateez fanfic #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez oneshot

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t00tsmcgee · 1 day ago

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Rook as a companion fic, scene excerpt: Spite learns how to paint

Scene written with my Rook Calais as the eight companion. Read more about him here!

Scene is a takeout of a larger Rookanis fic that I'm writing so this is a bit of an experiment. If this does well I'll post a few more scenes on here!

Cal was a few minutes into his painting exercise when the door of the pantry opened and a sleepy Lucanis came out. “Oh, hello. You’re back already.” he said, surprised. “Yeah.” Cal said, a little short. Lucanis frowned, cocked his head, but didn’t inquire further, walking over to the kitchen counter for coffee first. Of course. “Here, looks like you need it.” he said, coming over after finishing brewing coffee for both of them and putting the cup next to Cal. Cal couldn’t hold on to his anger in the face of such a kind gesture, smiling gratefully at Lucanis. “Thank you, Lucanis.” “You’re welcome.” Lucanis smiled and took a seat on the table next to Cal. “I thought painting was supposed to be relaxing.” he pointed vaguely at Cal’s tense frown. “Usually it is. Today I’m just trying to keep the demons at bay.” Cal sighed, deflating a little. “What?” Spite chimed in. “I’m not doing anything!” Cal chuckled. “Sorry, Spite, I didn’t mean you. I more meant my personal demons. Bad thoughts.” “What bad thoughts?” Lucanis asked. “Did you not have fun last night with Emmrich?” “Oh no, it was great. I had a lovely time.” Cal said. “Perhaps too lovely.” “Talk to me.” Lucanis said, openly looking at Cal.

“Everything was perfect, Lucanis. Exactly as it should be. But I ruined it with my feelings.” Cal sighed. “Emmrich was very clear on the arrangement. It was going to be one night only.” “Right. But.. you felt different.” Lucanis said. “I foolishly thought we had something special. He and I always talk so easily, make each other laugh, understand each other in a way no one else does.” Cal sighed. “And I guess I was dumb enough to think maybe he felt like that too. So when we got back this morning I asked him if he really was set on it being a one time thing. That I was open to it being more than that.” he took a sip of his coffee, letting the hot liquid settle his nerves a bit. “And he rejected you.” Lucanis concluded. There was a little contempt in his frown, but it quickly disappeared. “I’m sorry.” “Thank you. I suppose it’s my own stupid fault though.” Cal said. “I knew the terms.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself. What you said is true, you and Emmrich are usually like butter and toast. I can’t begin to guess why he would reject you, but I know that what you feel isn’t stupid.” Lucanis assured him with a gentle smile. “Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.” “I guess. But the rejection hurt more than I like to admit. It made me feel.. small. Like I wasn’t enough. That’s why I’m here, painting the feelings out. That’s why I was frowning so hard.” Cal smiled sadly. “It’s hard to feel useless when you’re creating something.”

Lucanis looked a little lost on what to say, but Spite had a word of wisdom as usual. “Useless? No, never useless! Create in spite of what he said. Prove your worth. But you are already enough. Like pennies in a jar.” Cal laughed a little. “Thanks Spite.” “He has such a way with words.” Lucanis smiled when he saw Cal smile as well. “He’s right though. You’re never useless. Always enough. You bring joy with your presence, your smile.” “Thank you. Both of you.” Cal smiled warmly. “I really appreciate the support. I’ll be fine. Just need to get over myself for a bit.” “And painting helps?” Lucanis asked. “It does. It’s calming. I like the feeling of the brush on the canvas, thinking of what colours to use and mix, plan out a painting step by step.” Cal explained. “You can try, if you want?” “Yes, try!” Spite was clearly excited. “Sure, why not?” Lucanis said, indulging him. “I should warn you though, I don’t have an inch of artistic talent.” “It’s not about talent, or about what you make. Its about expression. As long as you’re conveying what you’re feeling, it doesn’t matter how ‘good’ it is. If its worth doing, then its worth doing badly, too.” Cal smiled, Lucanis surprised by that little bit of wisdom at the end. “I suppose you’re right.” he said. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to try.” “What do you want to paint, you think?” Cal asked. “You.” Lucanis said, honestly. “How I see you. Well, I mean, I’ll try.” “Oh, okay.” Cal said. “Then I’ll paint you, if that’s alright?” “Yours will be better.” Lucanis smirked. “But it’s the thought that counts right?” “It is.” Cal agreed. “Can Spite use objects in his latent shape?�� “Yes, I can if you are near! I want to paint too!” Spite proclaimed with his usual smirk. “Hold on, I’ll get you set up.” Cal said, grabbing a canvas and putting it on the table for Spite to use. He put his older brushes there for him, the ones that wouldn’t suffer much for a bit of abuse, the hairs already starting to split. “There you go. Just dip your brush in water first before you grab paint.” he said, Spite eager to do so. It must have looked strange for anyone walking in, Cal and Lucanis painting, and a third canvas being assaulted by a floating brush. But Cal actually found a sense of peace in it, and the bad thoughts left him as he kept looking at Lucanis’ face for reference. The portrait was turning out quite nicely, and he couldn’t help but feel curious as to how Lucanis’ painting was going. Lucanis kept looking at him too, Cal smiling whenever their eyes met. There was something to it, he found, feeling the stirrings of something beneath the surface at Lucanis’ slow smile. Or was that just because he was still emotional from this morning? He probably couldn’t really trust his own feelings right now, but it was nice to take his mind off of this with someone he liked and trusted. Even Spite seemed to be having a good time, happily painting away. At first the strokes were big and aggressive but he seemed to hone in now, scribbling with a smaller brush. “What are you painting, Spite?” Cal said, seeing him so focused on his canvas. “Home.” Spite said, and the longing in his voice was clear. “Can I see?” Cal asked. “If you want, yes.” Spite said. He still seemed a little awkward but Cal was glad for the trust that was clearly returning after their earlier mishap. He came over to look at Spite’s painting, surprised to see how well he’d managed to represent the fade with colours and shapes, even if they were more abstract than how a humanoid would have done. “Spite, that’s beautiful.” Cal said, taking in the painting. Lucanis joined him, curious to see it as well. He seemed surprised, eyebrows rising. “I had no idea he could do this.” “I love the colours you used, very expressive.” Cal smiled when he saw Spite’s giddy grin. “I like painting!” Spite proclaimed with enthusiasm. “Giving shapes and colours to feelings and thoughts!” he wiggled excitedly. “I want to paint more!”

“Of course, here I have another canvas you can use.” Cal said, giving it to Spite, who was as happy as a child with a new toy. “I’ve never seen him like this.” Lucanis said, almost in awe as they returned to their own canvasses. “He’s so happy, so calm.” “We all need a hobby to express ourself.” Cal smiled. “Even spirits.”

“I wonder what he did before to express himself.” Lucanis said. “Can I see how you’re doing?” “Sure. It’s not finished by a long shot, though.” Cal said, standing aside to show Lucanis his painting. Lucanis took it in with a quiet look, smiling when he looked at Cal again after. “You’re very talented.” “Nah, I just practised a lot.” Cal said. “And you don’t even have a face yet.” “But I can already see it’s going to be me. The shapes, the stance, the essence is already there.” Lucanis said. “It’s going to be beautiful, I can tell.” “Thank you.” Cal smiled, flattered. “Can I see yours?” “No.” Lucanis said, quickly. “It’s.. nowhere near as good as yours. I am.. a little ashamed.” he admitted. Cal chuckled. “How many times have you painted in your life?” “The last time I painted was as a young boy.” Lucanis said. "It was with fingerpaint, and me and Illario started a war with it instead of painting our canvasses."

“Right, and I've painted every day, since I was four years old. So don’t put that pressure on yourself. Just have a good time.” Cal smiled. “Comparison is the thief of joy.” “You are just full of wisdom today.” Lucanis said, smiling.

Cal focused on his own painting for a bit, seeing Lucanis do the same, but he gradually seemed to smile wider, Cal curiously looking over. “What is it?” “It’s a mess. I don’t think I can salvage this.” Lucanis gave in. “It’s like a child made it.” “You’re too hard on yourself.” Cal said. “No, it’s fine. I’m just going to have to accept that I’m not an artist.” Lucanis sighed with acceptance. “I tried.” “Come on, just let me see.” Cal said, Lucanis stepping aside to let him look. Cal didn’t want to laugh, but he had a hard time keeping his grin contained when he saw what Lucanis had made. There was something of a face there, he had to give him that. The colours were unmixed, primary only, so his skin was red, his eyes blue and his hair yellow, a little orange where it touched his skin and making it look like spaghetti. He put his hand in front of his mouth to hide his smirk. “This..” he said, taking the canvas and presenting it to Lucanis formally, holding it in front of his chest. “Is modern art.” he saw Lucanis start to grin, finally breaking his own composure and laughing as well. Their joined laughter filled the kitchen, Cal having to wipe a little tear once they calmed down.

“It really is a disaster, isn’t it?” Lucanis sighed, chuckling and shaking his head. “No, no, it’s not a disaster.” Cal said, hiccuping. “I can see the shapes. That’s definitely a face. Everything is kind of in the right place, too.” “You’re being kind.” Lucanis said. “It’s ugly.” “It makes me smile.” Cal said. “And I love it for that.”

“You’re sweet.” Lucanis said, his eyes warm. “But I think painting is definitely your thing. Not mine.” he gave Cal the canvas he’d been working on. “Here, a gift. If it makes you happy, you should keep it.” “I will. I’ll look at it every day and remind myself that this is how you see me.” Cal smiled.

“Well, don’t do that.” Lucanis chuckled. “I didn’t even get your hair colour right. I don’t know why I didn’t just use white.” he subconsciously touched Cal’s hair, Cal looking at him with surprise at the familiarity. Lucanis seemed to realize his mistake after a moment or two, taking his hand back to himself. “Forgive me.” he mumbled. Cal smiled when he saw Lucanis fumble slightly.

“You’re okay.” he said. “Do you want to try again? The painting I mean.”

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #lucanis dellamorte #rookanis #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age veilguard #lucanis dragon age #Rook as a companion

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