#LOOK AT THEIR FACES INSTEAD THAT WAS THE POINT

[girlygguk]

CRAZY IN HAWAII ⋆ JJK

the one where a waitress tries to ogle your mans on vacation and your foot accidentally slips

PAIRING crazy au [ ceo ! jk x employee gf ! reader ]

GENRE fluff & suggestive [ mdni / 2.2k ]

CONTENT out-of-timeline drabble, can be read as a standalone, hawaii vacay with yoonmin, kissing, drinking, cursing, bitchy oc, i need her, down bad jk, i need him, possessive tendencies, pda, yoongi and jimin get freaky, some semi-public pussy touching

the soft strum of ukuleles and scattered dinner chatter curled up into the warm, hawaiian sky. and next to you, your boyfriend was linen-shirted and absolutely scrumptious, scowling like a sin you’d like to commit - and have, multiple times already…

“fuckin old perv,” jungkook muttered under his breath, waiting until the elderly bald man two generations your senior caught his glare. when he did, said old man made the smart decision to stop ogling your tits before he got buried in the sand on vacation - redirecting his focus back to dinner with what was most definitely his wife and grown kids.

your fingers just kept up the soft scratchy motions in the hair at the nape of jungkook’s neck. you sipped your pineapple and rum, tilting your head toward him. his jaw flexed, hand resting on your thigh under the long, white tablecloth, thumb rubbing over the fabric that covered his tattoo.

you leaned up to kiss the pretty pout off his lips when the drums in the background suddenly picked up. your group’s table faced the beach where a line of big, beautiful dancers now moved in sync with the music, hips swaying, leis in hand as they started the resort dinner performance. you leaned back with a gasp of excitement, both you and jimin giving little claps in delight.

then, one of them - male, shirtless, tall and slippery - broke the line and walked straight toward you.

“nope.” jungkook muttered immediately.

you giggled, sipping your drink as the dancer grinned at you, spun a bright pink lei around his fingers, and with a flourish, laid it gently around your neck. he winked before his hands slid slow and showy right to your waist.

as you were about to adjust his paws, jungkook reached out and swatted the guy’s hand off your hip. the dancer blinked, you bit your lip to keep from laughing, your boyfriend’s jaw ticked.

“all good, brother?” the dancer asked with a cheeky, performative smile.

you laughed under your breath before reaching up and tugging the flower garland off your neck. “wrong girl,” you hummed, spinning and looping it around jungkook’s neck. “have this one instead.”

you winked at your boyfriend and then reached for one of the female dancers nearby, grabbing her hand with a pretty smile. she blinked at you, eyes falling to your lips for a moment, then smiled back slowly as she tugged you toward the dance circle.

you paused, turning back to the guy dancer. “grab him,” you said sweetly, pointing at your broody boyfriend, whiskey glass halfway to his lips. “he needs to loosen up.”

the dancer beamed and looked back down at your hunk of a man with an approving nod. “with pleasure.”

jungkook blinked. “not a fucking chance—”

you squinted at him.

his mouth snapped shut, but not before he let out a low string of curses, downing the rest of his drink without a wince and letting the dancer tug him by the pink lei.

jimin was already whistling from the other side of the table, yoongi chuckling under his breath while holding the recording phone as per his boyfriend’s request.

“let’s go, big guy,” the dancer teased as he led your brute into the circle with you and the rest of the cheering dancers.

you giggled at his reluctance and turned to your new dance partner, letting her twirl you under her arm and slip a red lei around your neck. the drums picked up again, the pretty harmonies of the performers and the haze of your pina coladas making everything warmer and sweeter. you and jungkook were both led into a hip-sway by the gorgeous dancers, cheered on loudly by half the resort staff and guests.

when the drums faded with a final crash of cymbals and hips, you tipsily turned to your boyfriend who gave you his pretty, crooked smile. he leaned down to press a kiss to your grinning lips just as the beach erupted into claps and whoops, the sound of chairs scraping in the sand as guests rose to join in the cheers.

you were breathless as you pressed another soft kiss to his mouth before turning back to the girl you were still laced-hands with. you gave her one final spin and she laughed, pulling you into a warm hug. you kissed her softly on the cheek with a thank you before slipping your painted toes back into your sandals.

jungkook pulled his dancer into a bro shake, clapping him on the back and laughing at something he said. you almost fucking cooed when your brood of a boyfriend gave him a smile. a real one. one of those elusive, bunny toothed smiles that were really only reserved for you and little puppy dogs.

when you both naturally gravitated back toward each other, his hand went straight to your waist. the heel of his palm pressed right over your ribs, big inky fingers splaying against the dip between your tube top and long flowery skirt.

you smiled, swaying into him as you both walked back toward yoongi and jimin who were already seated again, fresh drinks in hand and ones ordered for you and jungkook resting on the table. yoongi had his arm slung over the blonde’s chair, sunglasses still perched on his nose despite the sun having long set. jimin looked freshly wrecked from laughter, cheeks flushed and cat eyes purring.

“why was jungkook soo much better at that than i expected,” the drunk park beamed as you both moved to take your seats, his fourth chilled cocktail finally freezing off the senior honorific you’d told him to drop during the trip.

you smiled with a little nod. “jungkook’s really good with his hips.”

jimin choked on his mouthful of drink, swallowing just before it could spill back into the cup while yoongi chuckled under his breath. jungkook sat first, tongue running over his pierced lip as he bit back a laugh, then pulled you into his lap like you were carry-on he was refusing to check.

a beat of quiet passed as the breeze picked up again, making your skirt flutter over his laplike a ribbon. jungkook nuzzled into your neck. “you’re beautiful in maui.”

you hummed, turning slightly to kiss the corner of his mouth. “does that mean i’m ugly back home?”

he nipped your throat, the dazy scent of whisky and bvlgari seeping into your skin. “don’t ask stupid questions.”

you smiled, leaning back into his warm chest as you picked a piece of cheese and grape from his plate and chewed while he pressed slow kisses into your neck.

a few more minutes passed in chatters between you and the lovebirds opposite, until the resort waitress approached with her brown eyes, red lips, and long limbs. she stopped at the head of the table with a pretty smile.

“aloha ahiahi. everything to your liking?”

you nodded with a smile, brushing a loose strand behind your ear. “it was amazing, thank you.”

she smiled for a beat too long before her gaze slid an inch too far. right past you, and straight to your boyfriend. her lashes dropped, her smile turned sultry, your mood fucking shifted.

she picked up the thick tip jungkook had tucked under the edge of the wine bucket, her hand lingering beside his arm like you weren’t sitting right there on his fucking lap.

then she smiled again, a little slower, then a little lower. “wow, thank you so much… enjoy the rest of your evening,” she purred by his ear.

jungkook didn’t look at her. just took another slow sip of his scotch, eyes fixed on the ocean as he moved away from her breath. you felt his hand on your thigh give a little squeeze as he swallowed, and while it felt good, your eyes didn’t leave the waitress or the capitalised RUBY on her name tag.

the moment she turned to leave, your foot slid forward.

ruby caught the edge of your sandal and stumbled, letting out a squealy little yelp. the four fifty-dalla notes flew from her fingers and scattered like confetti, kissing the sand right next to her.

yoongi sucked in a cough to hide his laugh while jimin choked, red wine spraying from the blonde’s mouth back into his glass. “oh my shitt—”

jungkook didn’t even flinch. just watched, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly as the waitress scrambled to collect the fallen cash, her cheeks Ruby red, eyes darting around in embarrassment.

“sorry,” you offered insincerely, slipping the glass from jungkook’s fingers and turning just enough to nudge the ground with your sandal. “missed one.”

she paused. then slowly shifted her gaze to the lone fifty half-buried in the sand, wedged right under your foot.

you lifted your sandal, and like the good girl she was, she picked it up with trembling fingers and scrambled to her feet without another word.

jimin was red-faced and wheezing while his boyfriend tried to feed him water to calm him down. jungkook turned his head slowly from the retreating server to his evil girlfriend and leaned in to kiss your neck. “you’re a bitch,” he murmured fondly against your skin.

you hummed, leaning back into his mouth. “acting like you don’t love it.”

his lips dragged slowly up your neck to your ear, voice dropping low. “i love you.”

you set his glass on the table, hands sliding up and down the thick arms wrapped around your waist. “yeah?” you breathed. “how much?”

his fingers drummed lazily along your bare side before slipping lower. and lower. until the pads dipped beneath the waistband of your skirt. “lots.”

you arched subtly into his hold, but your hand shot out to catch his wrist, nails lightly denting the pretty veins that fed into his tattooed forearm. “don’t,” you murmured amusedly. “you’ll scar your poor assistant, baby.”

across the table, jimin was mid laugh at something his boyfriend said, too caught up in his own tipsy joy to notice jungkook’s fingers halfway to your pussy. if yoongi suspected anything, he didn’t mention it, just adjusted the glasses perched on his pretty nose.

your evil boyfriend hummed low against your ear. “m’sure it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.”

you didn’t quite get the chance to dwell on how unfortunately right he was, because without warning, he dug his blunt nails into the plush skin of your inner thigh, right over the inking of his name.

you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, shooting him a little glare over your shoulder. “baby,” you warned.

he didn’t stop. his fingers moved slow and unhurried as they slid into the seam of your already wet thong. you choked on a laugh - a breathhy, scandalous little noise that barely slipped out around a moan.

his fingertips slid between your soft folds, tracing devilishly and gentle like he had all the time in the world and absolutely no morals. you grabbed his hand.

“stop it,” you hissed through a breath and flushed cheeks. you yanked the thing from under your skirt and brought it to your lap, turning to smush a messy kiss to his pout before he could complain. he immediately tried to deepen it, tongue brushing your bottom lip to get inside.

“be patient,” you whispered around a nibble of his plush lower lip. “we have the whole night, my love.”

he grunted lowly, like he was absolutely suffering and hadn’t already taken you twice this morning before leaving the suite. and once more at the secluded waterfall when you went for a dip before dinner. his fingers flexed in your lap, thumb dragging down your covered thigh like he was trying to remember what it felt like... the little sookie.

but he didn’t argue. so you gave your grump one more kiss before turning back to the boys across the table, who were now so deep in their bubble it was like you weren’t even there.

yoongi was slowly wiping a streak of wine from the corner of jimin’s mouth with his thumb before quickly sucking it off. and jimin - drunk, glowing, lovesick jimin - blinked up at him like he’d hung every single star in the sky. then he surged forward and smashed his lips to the elder’s.

there was tongue, there was wetness, there was a smothered sound of surprise that yoongi swallowed whole before adjusting and tilting his head to let jimin deepen the kiss. jimin let out a soft moan, his whole upper body curling into yoongi’s hold.

you shook your head with a quiet laugh. “okay, looks like we’ll be getting out of here sooner than i thought,” you murmured, head tilting at the very public makeout sesh across from you.

jungkook hummed behind you, his head now tucked into the crook of your neck, breath warm and ticklish as you continued.

“they’re one tongue suck away from fucking right in fr—oh. oop, yep. wow. okay-”

you blinked as jimin’s tongue buried itself deeper into yoongi’s mouth, hands tangled in his hair. yoongi’s palms had found his boyfriend’s tiny waist, and the short distance between their chairs was clearly too much because jimin was now fully straddling his lap.

“jiminie,” you laughed, lobbing a grape at his back as he wrapped his arms around yoongi’s neck and started a quick grind. “oh my god, baby, stop him! they’re drunk and he’s gonna be so embarrassed- oh for fuck’s sak—jimin!”

perm taglist #1 @4noirre @aalisiyahxstar @alessioayla @angeljmnie @apobangpogirlyyy @babigriin @canarystwin @crazy-eight17 @crisle19 @cuntessaiii @dna-black-and-blue @dutifullybeautifulperson @elinaki92 @epsilonx1 @fangirl1994 @fr0ggieth1nk @futuristicenemychaos @gaebestie @granataepfelchen @jaebae420 @jenniebyrubies @joonwater @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @junecat18 @kimjennie @kissyfacekoo @kooeuphoria @leire-mia @lizzikoo @lllucere @lovieku @mar-lo-pap @matt122806 @mellyyyyyyx @mila-williamsblog @mimi1097 @mochibites00 @morosisxx @myjungkookthighs @nen-nyy @nikidream24 @nikkinikj @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @rjsmochii @rpwprpwprpwprw

[wosospacegirl]

Enjoy your treat - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Something about Alexia being a provider makes my legs weak.

a/n: Not really a fic-fic--more like a soft rant because I needed a break from studying virology (send help). It’s messy, unpolished, but full of love for the idea of Alexia casually spoiling you <3

..

Alexia isn’t loud about the fact that she makes bank.

She’s quiet about it, almost casual–like the way she slips a shopping bag onto the table without a word. You’ll be doing something totally normal, studying on the sofa, reading, journaling, and she just… walks by. 

Drops it. Kisses the top of your head.

And then leaves.

No announcement. No explanation.

The first time it happened, you stared at the sleek black bag like it was going to explode.

“Alexia Putellas,” you called, squinting suspiciously. “What is this?”

She appeared in the doorway, hair damp from a shower, brow raised like you’re like she is oh so innocent. 

“You said your sneakers were getting uncomfortable.”

You looked inside.

They weren’t just new sneakers. 

They were handcrafted, limited-edition, in the exact colour you said you liked to wear.

A colour you mentioned once. Half-asleep. Two weeks ago. Sage green.

Alexia shrugged again like it was nothing. It’s never nothing.

She listens. Stores it all somewhere behind that pretty face of hers, waiting for the right moment to use it against you, with love, of course. She just goes around buying stuff and hides them away until she’s ready to give them to you.

It starts to become a thing.

The surprise bags. The quiet kisses. 

The no-comment luxury dropped into your everyday like it doesn’t mean anything.

Until one day, you snap.

You’re tired, high-strung from back-to-back classes, your laptop balanced on your knees and flashcards falling everywhere, when she sets another box down in front of you.

You don’t even look up.

“Alexia,” you say, voice tight. “You don’t have to keep buying me things.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Just watches you with that maddening calm of hers, hands in her pockets like she’s done nothing but breathe.

“I have a job, Ale”, you say, sharper this time. “A real one. That pays me, I can buy my own stuff.”

Did you work part-time on an internship that paid you half a living wage? Yes. Could you really buy your own stuff? No. But you didn’t want Alexia to actually know that.

Alexia tilts her head slightly, then speaks, very softly, completely unfazed.

“I know,” she says. “You work because you want to. Not because you need to.”

She leans down, kisses your cheek, and walks out of the room.

You look at the box.

It’s a watch. Sleek, elegant, and, when you look up the model later, worth more than your rent.

 Which you haven’t paid in six months. Because Alexia bought you the flat.

Yes. She bought a whole flat once she learned about the whole rent situation

You tried to argue about that, too. You lost.

Alexia’s love language is acts of service. Providing. Protecting.

If you are getting sick, she’s already called your doctor, moved your meetings, tucked you into bed, and, somehow, gotten your mom on FaceTime even though you definitely didn’t give her that number??

Your period starts? She’s already next to you with painkillers, the most expensive chocolate on the market, and her big warm hands pressed gently to your lower stomach. Like she could draw the pain out of you if she just loved hard enough.

You’re cold? She doesn’t say “go get a hoodie.”

She leaves and comes back with the hoodie—the one you pointed at online and didn’t buy because you were trying to be smart, trying to be careful.

You let her dress you in silence.

And she never, ever asks for anything in return.

You tried to talk her out of it. The gifts. The money.

You argued. You begged. Damn you even cried once.

And so she stopped, kind of.

Instead of new things appearing every day, you started getting silent deposits into your account. Small at first. Then not-so-small.

You didn’t ask for them. You didn’t use them.

You lasted two months. You didn’t use Alexia’s money for two whole months.

“Teimona,” she muttered every time she checked your untouched balance. “Dios mío, you’re so stubborn.”

But then it happened. 

The coffee shop happened. :) 

It was sunny. Warm enough for a jacket but not quite coat weather. You were both in sunglasses, fingers laced, laughing about something dumb when you stepped into the café.

You ordered (Alexia was the one who talked to the man on the counter actually)

Then you sat down and waited.

Alexia reached for her bag, then froze.

“Shit,” she muttered, eyes wide. “I forgot my wallet.”

You blinked. “Oh?”

“I’m going back to get it, I’ll be quick.” She said, already getting up.

“No,” you said, stopping her with a hand on her arm. “Stay.”

She frowned.

And you smiled.

A slow, smug thing.

You reached into your bag. Opened your wallet like it was a grand reveal. 

Slowly. Deliberately.

Alexia narrowed her eyes like she knew she was being played but couldn’t stop it.

“Don’t worry, amor,” you said, too sweet. “It’s on me. Enjoy your treat.”

Her coffee suddenly didn’t taste quite right.

You watched her sip it anyway, expression murderous.

You sat back in your chair, victorious.

And yes, you used her deposit to pay for it. And no, you did not feel bad. 

At least this time.

[kanonakin]

LADS Men if they were in reverse tropes

I saw a tiktok with a whole list of book tropes but in reverse and I just had to assign it to them.

Pairings: Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Caleb, and Zayne x Reader (separate)

─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉ ─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉ ─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉ ─┉

Sylus

Reverse trope: Accidentally kidnapped the mafia boss

The one time you decided to get out of your comfort zone and do something crazy, you somehow end up in your storage unit with the city’s most dangerous man tied up in a chair.

“Just so you know, I didn’t mean to do this.” You had an awkward smile plastered on your face which quickly faltered when you remembered that you had also blinded folded him.

“Hmm, are you planning on letting me go anytime soon or do you have something planned for me?”

Thoughts raced through your head as you stared at him. He had this almost unnoticeable smirk on his face, like he was enjoying this.

Xavier

Reverse trope: Too many beds

“This is ridiculous.”

You had been sent on a far away mission and had randomly ran into Xavier who heading to the same city. Deciding to tag along, you both headed to the place the hunter’s association had booked for you.

It’s a hostel… and there’s no one else there but you and Xavier.

Since having brought Xavier on a whim, you couldn’t tell if you were lucky or not getting a hostel with multiple beds instead of having to share one bed.

You called Jenna to see if there was some sort of mix-up. There was, but having only needed to stay one night you decided to go against having to move to a different place and just stayed in the Hostel.

Despite there being almost 20 different beds, Xavier decides to sleep at the bunk bed right above you.

“You really don’t want to go to a different bed? That spot over there has more moonlight.” You say pointing to the other area.

“I’m good here.”

Rafayel

Reverse Trope: Meet-Ugly

Your living room needed a cute little something, and you decided that something would be a big beautifully decorated fish tank. You hadn’t had a fish in years since your last one died, so getting a new pet was basically part of new transformation into adulthood.. and getting an apartment too, of course.

You found this cute little family owned local pet store nearby with a big collection of beautiful fish.

Unfortunately for you, you weren’t the only one looking for beautiful fish.

“Are you serious right now? You can’t claim dibs on a fish!”

“I just did, that Angelfish wants me to take him home!”

Arguing with some purple haired guy over the last Angelfish in the store wasn’t on your to-do list today.

Caleb

Reverse Trope: Unrequited Rivalry (you have a one sided rivalry against Caleb)

You worked so hard to be the best in the academy, yet within only a month of transferring a prodigy overtakes quickly makes his way to #2 place, right behind you.

He’s tried talking to you multiple times, “Hey, I was thinking we should work on our end of the year research project together, since we’re both the best.” But you would walk away every time.

He’s probably trying to sabotage your final scores so he push me down, that gotta be it, right?

Yet he keeps coming back to you every time there’s a project involving partners and you turn him down every time.

“You know you’re not gonna win by sabotaging me right?” You said finally confronting him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re gonna stay in 2nd place because I’m gonna stay in 1st place for the rest of the time i’m at this school and no prodigy is gonna overtake me.”

Caleb had an annoyingly confused look on his face, “I’m rank 2 in the whole academy?”

What?? He didn’t even know? But he’s trying to take your place? Right?

Zayne

Reverse Trope: He’s hurt and you’re a doctor but not the right kind. (Opposite of savior romance trope)

It was a long day, you had just finished up your last client and you could not wait to get into a warm bath and comfy bed.

Of course something has to go wrong and throw your plans off. The universe hates you.

Which is why instead of at home, you’re sitting next to a man who’d just gotten hit by a car.

“Stop moving please, I think it’ll make your injuries worse.” You informed him.

But he noticed your name tag on your shirt with your Dr. status right beside your name, “Aren’t you a doctor, what do you mean you think?”

“I’m a clinical psychologist.”

“Oh great, that’ll help me a lot.”

Oh he’s one of those sarcastic ones.

[alchemistc]

Consider this the emotional sibling of the Eddie Makes It Worse series.

"I have thought about it, you know," Eddie says, and Tommy nearly inhales the straw of his stupidly sweet cocktail. That's what he gets for always accepting the drinks Buck decides a sip in aren't to his taste.

Eddie gives him a hearty slap on the back, and continues before Tommy's done more than wheeze.

"I had to recontextualize like, seven years of my life after Buck met you. After you turned him into an insane person and also somehow a teenage girl with her first crush and no control or understanding of her emotions."

Tommy's too busy trying to stretch the knot out of his neck and breathe through his nose to call him out on gendering his comparisons. In his experience, boys are the ones committing violence for attention. Not the point. So not the point, and he breathed half an ounce of vodka on top of that.

"I'm - sorry, what did you have to think about?"

Tommy absolutely knows what he's talking about. Eddie absolutely knows he knows. It's not quite out of left field, but definitely center field facing a righty before the shift got banned.

"About Buck. Me and Buck. Us and our... thing."

The shock of Eddie being introspective about this enough to be able to articulate it is enough to keep him quiet. He's not a dumb man. Far from it. It's just - in Tommy's experience Eddie tends to avoid looking internally with the same fervor you try to avoid latrine duty.

Eddie's watching him. Waiting for a reaction. They've already done this song and dance, so Tommy's not entirely sure what to do with this. What reaction Eddie's looking for.

"Okay?" Tommy prods, and Eddie rolls his eyes like the diva he is.

"Okay so, I'm saying. I am 100% sure I'm very straight. Because after Buck came out I thought about it."

"What are you saying?" That's his uncontrollably bitchy tone, right there. His eyebrows are probably putting in work. Eddie seems...incredibly nonplussed.

"I'm saying I thought about it."

Tommy rewinds. Considers the context that got them here, at the bar top, gathering a round for the table...Russo, Hen and Karen, Evan... Karen had made some offhand comment about Eddie and Evan that had made Eddie's eyes dart to his like he was looking for signs that Tommy was wearing Nike Zooms.

"Sorry, are you taking this opportunity, in this moment, to tell me you're definitely straight because you fantasized about fucking my boyfriend?"

Two stools down, a woman wearing a pair of neon suspenders and steel toe boots flicks her eyes away from them in the mirror over the bar.

Eddie's eye roll is always a marvel to behold, but this one might take the cake as far as disdainful energy rolling off him like an aura goes.

"Yeah, like you were worried about the physical attraction."

"Are you saying there is physical attraction?" What the fuck. What the fuck. Where the hell is he going with this?

"I'm saying we're each other's next of kin and he's in my will and I may be more subtle about it but I'm just as weird about him as he is about me. It's, like, contagious, man."

Tommy has to give him that point. His insanity levels have increased exponentially since meeting Evan Buckley. Realizing that taking the lid off of that actually made them stronger as a couple had really opened things up.

"I was having a nice night," Tommy says, and tries to wrangle this conversation back into some semblance of order. "What, exactly, are you trying to tell me?" Eddie opens his mouth and Tommy has to stop himself from smacking his hand across his lips to prevent him from speaking. He points a finger, instead. "If you say you thought about it, I swear to Christ, Diaz..."

"I think Buck probably had a crush on me when we first met. You know - pulling the pigtails, desperate to know way too much about me, that kind of thing."

Great. Cool. Tommy's feeling really good about where this is going.

"And I think I fucking desperately needed someone to love me, no strings attached. And Buck - he did that. No question. Almost from the jump."

Tommy downs the rest of the cocktail in one go. Yep. Still as bad as he remembered.

"So. After you guys got together, I... added some context. You weren't the only one who thought he was pissed at me for finding a second friend."

"What was your conclusion, exactly?"

"He's my best friend, Tommy. Family, in a way no one else will ever come close to. If he called and asked if I had a shovel, I'd be researching endangered plant species before we even got off the phone."

Getting Eddie into true crime podcasts was a mistake. "Ride or die, yeah, we all know."

"See, I don't think you do, Tommy. I really don't think you do."

If they could get to the point, already, Tommy might not have to gouge his own eye out with the cocktail straw poking temptingly out of the empty glass in front of him.

"Because as much as I care about him, as much as he cares about me - we'd never be what the other needed. I'm too in my own head all the time. He's - way too needy." Tommy wants to contest this assassination of his boyfriends character, but Eddie seems like he might actually be meandering somewhere near the point. "And, yeah, sure, I did once attempt to figure out if I was attracted to him."

Jesus fucking Christ. They're in a bar. They have an audience, at this point, even if it is just the lesbian couple two stools over and the bartender who's either needs to tap a new keg or learn how to pour without creating a drink that's mostly head.

"My point is the only reason you should be concerned about me is if you ever piss Buck off bad enough for him to need an alibi."

The words come out before he's had time to filter them through his brain. "Did you get off?"

Yeah. The cocktail was mostly vodka, but there's no way in hell he can blame that entirely on alcohol. He'd had a wallowing jack-off or two featuring more than just Evan, in the months he'd drive past Evan's loft hoping for some rain and for Sia to organically pop up on his Spotify station.

Eddie slides a shot of tequila in Tommy's direction. He doesn't remember ordering those. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Edmundo."

"Thomathan."

Tommy takes the shot without bothering to cheers him. He doesn't deserve the time it would take for his mouth to form the "Salute". Hell, he's not even worthy of a "Cin Cin", not with his face doing whatever it's doing right now.

"Tell Buck he's welcome from me," Eddie says, and before Tommy can do much more than blink he's gathering up all but Tommy and Evan's drinks to take them back to their table.

This feels like a mind game. He isn't sure whether he's meant to be grateful, or murderous. Two stools down, Suspenders swivels to stare at him. "You look like you just got slapped in the face with a fish," she says. The bartender eyes him like she might be thinking of pouring him another shot.

"Hi," Evan says, directly into his ear, and Tommy jolts. "Eddie said you were right behind him. Did your arms stop working?"

"Just his brain, honey," Suspenders chimes in. The woman to her left titters into her hand.

"Give it to me straight," Tommy says, and Suspenders snorts into her drink. "Has Eddie told you about his Thinking About It process?"

"Oh, with the trying to picture enjoying me naked?"

Tommy pinches his nose and makes a valiant effort to ignore the hand slapping down on the bar top to his left, the canned attempt at hiding a choked laugh. "Sure. That. Normal best friend things."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think I got even less enjoyment out of it than he did."

Suspenders wheezes.

"You did it together?"

"Gross, Tommy."

"Oh, sure, I'm the one reacting weirdly to this."

"If it makes you feel any better, we were broken up. And the only reason I even thought of it was - you know. Tech- technically your fault. You were the one wining and dining my straight best friend while I was trying to get your attention."

Suspenders girlfriend is having a conveniently timed coughing fit.

"Am I having a stroke?" Tommy asks, but it comes out perfectly coherent, so knock that off the list.

"Do you wanna go home?" Evan has the ability to switch moods on a dime. Tommy's really never seen someone so good at it. "I can settle the tab. I - are you okay? Do you need - water, or - " he's reaching for a stool " - or we can sit."

Tommy's been resistant to being taken care of since he can remember. There's something to the way Evan approaches it - purposeful, the opposite of effortless - that makes Tommy want to crumble like a house of cards. He snags Evan's wrist in his hand. "Evan."

As usual, that's all it takes to still him, for a moment. The cheeks rise, the dimples grow more prominent, his eyes alight on Tommy's like he's seeing something worth looking at.

"I love you. Your best friend is insane and you're half a step behind him, and I love you."

It's not the first time. Thank fuck, that would be a terrible way to drop that bomb. But it's still new enough not to be casual. New enough to make Evan's cheeks burn a rosy pink.

Evan smirks. "You wanna get out of here?"

He'd been enjoying a conversation with Karen, twenty minutes ago, but he doubts he'd be able to form a single coherent thought anymore. The green demon he's kept under wraps for forever now has somehow both gone dormant and is currently trying to convince him to toss Evan over his shoulder and make a break for it.

Tommy makes eye contact with the bartender. Raps his knuckles against the bar top.

Evan's grin goes a little feral.

[moku-youbi]

I think I commented on this before, IDK, but I'm not going to shut up about it, because no. NO. You didn't WANT to know. Gaiman showed this side of him self *ages* ago. How do I know? 'Cause it was at least 10+ years ago that he encouraged his fans to dox my friend, on twitter, because she had the audacity to speak up about his disgusting, misogynistic comments about an actress at a con. (Basically some gross dude made a comment to her face about how he jerked off to her, and she was trying to be polite but also clearly uncomfortable and Gaiman told her she should take it as a compliment and not get her panties in a bunch, look it's been a minute, I don't remember all the details anymore)

I screamed about this on many of his posts, told people directly when they praised him on here, and never got so much as a peep of a reply. And this was easily confirmable. At least at the time, the tweets were still there, of her (very non-confrontationally calling him out like "hey, this isn't okay." and him going rabid and siccing his fanbase on her). A rich, famous, influential man with an army of fans on twitter went after a random nobody for pointing out this problematic encounter, and NO ONE CARED. Everyone straight up ignored me.

And okay, fine, maybe you didn't see my reblogs or comments, maybe you weren't one of the people I messaged directly. I'm hardly a name on here. BUT, the thing is, he showed this same behaviour ON THIS FUCKING SITE, all the damn time. The way he belittled people who sent him asks was truly disgusting. Ya know, it's fine to not like the questions you're being asked, especially when they feel repetitive, or if they feel intrusive. But the problem is, Gaiman fostered this parasocial relationship with his fans here, and as long as they were appropriately worshipful, he treated them kindly. But the contempt he showed to the socially awkward, and the way he encouraged his huge fanbase on here to dogpile onto his rude, aggressive replies to their asks, is very telling of what sort of person he is. He could have answered those asks privately. He could have ignored and deleted them. He could have give a very simple "I've already answered this" or "I'm not going to answer these sorts of questions." Instead, he chose to regularly excoriate random nobodies who were FANS OF HIS WORK for not interacting with it in the way he wanted, or asking questions that annoyed him. He made himself accessible on this platform and then behaved very irresponsibly with his fame.

And you all don't get to pretend like this is somehow a revelation. Plenty of you reblogged those disgusting answers he gave to asks--that's how I saw them, because I sure as fuck didn't *follow* him, yet people I did follow would reblog them with a gleeful sort of schadenfreude, a "look at this idiot he's tearing apart," instead of "look at this powerful man using his platform to demean and belittle a fan."

You wanted your gay Angel and Demon (and don't EVEN get me started on Good Omens, dear fucking christ, and how that man RUINED my favourite book, and how everything that was good about it, and lovely about Aziraphale/Crowely came from Pratchett), you wanted your emo boy Dream, you wanted to preen at the famous guy who deigned to walk among us on tumblr, all "Notice me, Senpai!" so you chose to ignore all the ugly stuff and the voices quietly railing against him, until there were too many voices, on too large a platform for you to ignore anymore.

I'm not saying there aren't predators who fly below the radar, because sadly there definitely are, and it's scary. But I'm also not about to let the people who sat idly by while Gaiman bullied fans on the regular clutch their pearls and gasp "how could we have ever known?"

(and because I've legit got people come in my messages before about "why are you attacking me personally about this" the 'you' in this is the collective, not a specific individual, and if you're getting defensive, maybe examine why you feel that way...)

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out ��� I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[littlcdarlin]

Who Will Love A Little Sparrow?

summary: Joel turns sixty.

warnings: girthy age gap (60 & mid 20s), Joel feels guilty about age gap, I cried while writing this, emotional fluff

note: it took one ask to convince me to actually write this lol hope you like it, anon! Title is from the Simon & Garfunkel song

Joel hasn't quite realized he's turning sixty – sure, he knows he looks it, feels it in his cracking joints, aching back and wheezing lungs, sees it in the stares the two of you get walking through Jackson hand in hand, but your company keeps him young. Three and a half decades between you will do that to a man.

He's never liked a big fuss on his birthday; even when he was half his age all the singing and balloons embarrassed him more than anything, so he didn't mention it was coming up during the weeks beforehand. You knew, of course, and so did Tommy, but he figured patrols would keep the two of you busy enough to prevent anything more than an extra kiss from you and a teasing comment from his brother – maybe birthday sex when you were done with your work for the day.

When he wakes up, it's his first thought, though not in excitement, but resignation. Sixty. The number feels like a chasm between the two of you. It makes him feel dirty for having touched you the night before, and he wishes humanity hadn't decided on the decimal numeral system.

You're scheduled for the morning patrol, so he doesn't expect you home before noon, which for the first time in his life feels like a relief. It gives him a couple of hours to bury the guilt about your age somewhere deep and secure, under vague childhood memories and the first thirteen decimals of Pi, where it won't come bubbling up while you're laughing your sunshine-laugh. He doesn't want to dim your spark, not when you seem to just have found it again.

He scuffles downstairs, dragging his feet as if he's turning ninety instead of sixty, just to wallow in his self-pity while nobody is around to see it. If he's lucky, he'll have two more decades, maybe even three, though that kind of hope is practically brazen.

He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen, thinking that if he makes his coffee strong enough, it might make him feel fifty again.

"Happy Birthday."

His head snaps up, and he's staring at you instead of his toes, your youthful face a little blotchy from the excitement.

"Here," you say, and thrust a cupcake in his direction. There is a single purple candle on it, and the frosting isn't draped across the dough in artful swirls the way they did it before the outbreak – still, it's the best cupcake he has ever seen.

"I couldn't fit sixty candles on this thing, so you get one."

Your smile is a little lopsided, a little too understanding, and Joel swallows.

"Thanks," he mutters quietly, staring at the blue part of the flame. "Geez."

"Blow it out," you say, "and make a wish."

He doesn't believe in that, but he obliges because you somehow found him a cupcake in the middle of the apocalypse at the crack of dawn.

"Now," you say, almost business-like, as if the first bullet point of one of your little lists has been crossed off, "I got Tommy and Maria to cover us on patrols today. What do you wanna do first, drink outrageously bitter coffee, or carve a wooden sparrow?"

He stares at you. You must have found the little bird he made during his many sleepless hours – he put it on the very top shelf in the living room where it wouldn't attract attention. It's not that he's embarrassed about it, he's just not sure it's a part of himself he wants to share with the world.

You put the cupcake on the kitchen counter and turn back around, that same knowing smile on your lips.

"I got you something," you say, and Joel frowns.

"You shouldn't trade for–"

"I didn't."

You hand him a small package, wrapped in some old newspaper you decorated with tiny, drawn-on hearts.

"Tommy said you used to wrap presents in colorful paper just to throw it away," you explain, that sense of wonder in your voice, as always when you talk about the before, "I didn't have paint, but I found a pen that works."

Joel stares at the package. He remembers the last birthday present he unwrapped perfectly, can see it catch the morning sunlight on his wrist.

"I–Geez," he just says, again, and starts to carefully peel away the newspaper without creasing your little artwork too much. His thumb traces one of the hearts. There is a hint of red inside the paper, and then he's holding something small.

"Where did you get this?", he asks, voice quiet with awe and something else that seems to thicken his throat.

"I found it in an abandoned raider's lair," you say softly, "I know I should have handed it to Maria, but I thought you could use it for your sparrow. Give him a face, you know, some feathers."

Joel traces the little cross on the Swiss army knife, and feels his chest tighten.

"Don't tell on me," you say teasingly, but with a hint of self-consciousness at his lack of a response. Joel swallows, and drags his eyes away from his present and to your face.

"Thank you," he says quietly, unsure of how to voice the thoughts rushing through his head, "I– thank you.

"Yeah," you say gently, "'course."

You accept his gratitude, understand what he means by it. You don't make a fuss with your un-swirly cupcake and single candle and no singing. All of a sudden, Joel feels his eyes prick and burn, and he rubs them quickly, wipes away the wetness. You touch his shoulder, make him look at you, and he clenches his jaw in embarrassment.

"Sorry," he mutters, "you just...know me so well."

There it is, your sunshine-smile, and you press a kiss to his naked chest, as high as you can reach.

"Sixty isn't that old, Joel. Don't even think about using it as an excuse to stop chopping firewood."

He chuckles and cups your face in one of his massive palms.

"No ma'am."

[pukefactory]

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I loved the idea that @the-void-via submitted to me so much that I couldn’t help but write some headcanons about it. Shoutout to them for such a unique prompt. Happy reading!

- COMET

•☽────✧˖°˖ PHANTOM PSALMS ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA X War Medic Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ ENA meets you on a Tuesday. She says it’s a lucky day because Tuesdays are for strategic repositioning and shiny discounts. You tell her you’re not buying anything. She stares. Doesn’t say a word. Her cap tips forward slightly, and you can hear the subtle click-click-click of bullets sliding somewhere unseen, just beneath her hairline. You offer her a bandage instead of a handshake. She takes it. Her fingers twitch like they want to wrap around something tighter.

☆ “I’m not that anymore,” she says, as her shadow glows red with crosshairs. You hadn’t accused her of anything. All you did was say, you look tired. And maybe, just maybe, she is. Maybe ENA was programmed to obliterate entire populations and can no longer remember the difference between routine and remorse. You hand her a coffee instead of a confession. She gulps it like it’s blood.

☆ She doesn’t know what to do with your softness. You speak in triage terms: Here. Let me check. You’re not bleeding, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. ENA hears you and glitches. Her Salesperson side smiles, her Meanie side crumbles. “No one has ever offered me gauze before,” she says. “Usually, they offer…retaliation.” You offer her a blanket. She asks if it’s a trap.

☆ There’s an instance where ENA panics. Real panic, the kind where her claws shake and her mittened hand begins typing something in the air you can’t read. “I’M NOT DOING IT,” she screams, the bullets fall again. You step in front of her. Not to fight. But to triage. “It’s okay,” you say. “If this is what you did…you don’t have to do it anymore.” She looks at you like you just handed her a reason to live. Or maybe just a reason to not die.

☆ You become the only one she listens to. The only one who doesn’t speak in orders. “You have the face of a sergeant,” she tells you one day. “But the heart of mercy.” It’s supposed to be an insult, probably. Her voice glitches halfway through. She looks away. You touch her shoulder and say, “Good. I’ve seen enough of what happens when soldiers forget mercy.” She doesn’t respond. But the megaphones don’t spin that day.

☆ Sometimes you catch her staring at her own hands. Not in awe. Not in vanity. In disgust. Her left palm opens to reveal a cracked metal chamber. Her right fingers are sharp. “I was made to point and eliminate. You were made to stitch.” She says this and doesn’t finish the sentence. You finish it for her: “Then maybe we’re supposed to meet halfway.” She looks at you like you just gave her a new job title: Healer in Training.

☆ She dreams in crosshairs and you dream in tourniquets. One night, the two dreams overlap and she wakes up tangled in a fever. “You were there,” she says. “On the battlefield. But you didn’t shoot me. You…you pressed your hands to my chest and told me to breathe.” You didn’t have the heart to tell her you’ve never been to war. Maybe she just pulled that memory from herself.

☆ “I keep trying to do better,” she tells you once, quiet as a wind-up toy losing momentum. “I aim for the target. I follow protocol. But everyone still looks at me like I killed their world.” You sit beside her on the dusty casino floor and whisper, “That’s because you probably did.” She flinches. “But you’re here now. You didn’t run from the wreckage. That means something.” She doesn’t speak for five whole minutes. Her hat slips down her brow like a salute.

☆ You see it, one day. The flash of her other form. Green cracks. No arms. Jagged mouth leaking color that doesn’t exist in any medical manual. “They made me into a god of endings,” she says. “But you…” She leans in, wild-eyed, “You always begin things. Even now. Look at you—bandages and tea and dumb questions about feelings.” You laugh. She winces like it’s a bullet wound. But doesn’t move away.

☆ When she finally asks what your role was, you hesitate. “I kept people alive,” you say. Not proudly. Just honestly. ENA turns away. “And I kept people from continuing,” she replies. And for a moment, there’s nothing but static. Until you say: “Then maybe it’s time we learn from each other.” She doesn’t reply. But she stops dropping bullets for the rest of the week.

[ghelullu]

Okay so Frankfurt skeletour ritual!!

I probably forgot a lot, because it WAS a lot. Tldr: fucking amazing. They're all so good. The long version is under the cut

The bass was on 90000, felt in your entire body

No Swiss (and no, papa didn't mention it at all)

Peacefieeeeeeeeeld 😭😭😭😭🤌🏽 it's SO so so so good live with the added synths

papa sounds absolutely fucking amazing

During spirit he lasciviously rubbed up his thigh while looking me into the eye and I perished

We got Faith again (instead of Pinnacle) and he said Dummkopf

He got rid of the teleprompter, which makes total sense - he wasn't looking at it ever because he's way too busy interacting with his crowd (aka killing us)

Majesty got replaced this time by CMLS (Swiss vocals were missed a lot here)

Germans were germanly clapping and he channeled his inner Terzo and gave me a tiny stamp of approval for clapping correctly (years of playing jazz on the saxophone finally paid off, my teacher would be so proud)

He thanked us for our patience after the post cmls change, very polite man

Rain is an excellent bass player and he's getting more and more sassy

At one point papa ran behind the stage and seemed to stumble over the drum stage thingy step, bless him

He wanted us to not be gentle but rough with him despite being new again, slut

No jacket for TFIAL, only the silky shirt, I died again

The mitre with the wings seemed more stable, I guess they fixed it to the mask or something

Holding eye contact with him when he bends over with the red light in his face during a Hell Satan is FINE

The backdrop Deflation worked mostly fine this time, only a bit got stuck on the edge. No close calls for any ghoulettes

Speaking of ghoulettes: at one point aurora and the new one joined dew at his side of the stage and it was very cute

Dew was hobbling around with his big boot, poor guy, but he did well!! Got a big shout out from papa before squammer

He also didn't seem to lose his pants as much, but jesus christ are they tailored to the crotch (not a complaint)

When umbra started no one visibly knew the song but me in the area and he looked into my eyes and, while starting singing, fixed his collar and I died yet again (if you know the song already, then you understand even more why)

With no Swiss there, new ghoulette was playing the cowbell

The guitar/keyboard bit in umbra is so incredibly sexy

He fucking ciriced Jesus (a cosplayer in a jesus costume, not their stage manager) at least it looked like that from where I was standing, please correct me if you were near there and I'm wrong. Also the sparkly mask is SO sparkly

Mummy dust. He did the Copia butt grab thing and stuck his tongue out (slut), choked himself with the ascot (slut) and for the thrusting bit put a leg on a box and went low for some very biblical hip movement (slut)

The mummy dust amount and coverage was... Not very good, mightve been bc of the odd shape of the venue (I think they usually have more cannons)

Bouncy papa in KTGG. Also his shirt rode all the way up, full stomach.

Made a not bad face at our singing participation esp during dathoml but we did fail the ch ch ch but badly, tbf

He seemed less smiley than in Manchester and what others described during the last few rituals. Not sure if that's bc of the ✨things✨ or because he's trying to keep himself from grinning the whole time (sometimes he squeezes his lips together in a way that looks like he's doing that), was more smiley during the encore though

He mentioned ghost. Like. As the name of the band. On stage??? I was shook bc I've never heard him do that in character!!?

For the anon who asked if cirrus does her sexy solo thing in monstrance clock: yes she does, everyone bow to the queen

After monstrance clock the Germans germaned again and shouted zugabe, zugabe, Which he pretended not to understand upon returning to the stage

"Do you think we are cheesy? Do you like cheese(y)?? (loud German cheer because we do love cheese) Then we are the right band for you, I give you Käse!!!"

Papa also said that he doesn't know much German, only a little bit "ungefähr" he always knows the most random words

Bouncy papa for Dance Macabre again. No wobble wobble though, sad.

Papa and phantom twirl!!!! Also papa twirling at the front of the stage and the behind the stage walking area

Squammer rocks always

Phantom is an absolutely amazing guitar player, it can't be said enough, and he's also becoming more and more of an entertainer too

One of rains picks bounced off my forehead and someone picked it up and kept it :((( (I didn't see it incoming bc of dude in front of me and his hat)

Other notes

Security was good (at least what I saw), especially ghosts own security crew is excellent, very fun and friendly, handing out water, joking around with fans, a+++ guys

The vip items are an insult there's no other words for this lmao

The org for leaving the venue was bad with a stream of people walking to their jackets crossing the stream of people leaving, it took forever

I had an amazing spot in the 3rd/4th row and everytime you make eye contact with Papa you die, it's like a superpower of his

Eye contact with the ghouls is extremely cool due to their mask making their eyes only barely visible

If you are wearing a big hat to a concert and don't take it off during the concert you're a fucking asshole and deserve to be punched in your face 5 times

The whole stage setup is still so cool. As far as I could tell the THE spotlight situation got mostly solved, at least I didn't encounter it (if you know you know). The lights from the big grucifix lighting rig are incredibly bright if they hit you in the face though, like I was so close to putting on my sunglasses at one point 😂but they're never on like this for long!

Edit: added thoughts that I forgot previously

He didn't miss the start of dathoml this time

Still doesn't know lyrics to faith and many other songs (I say lovingly, bc same)

They soundchecked nocturnal me (I didn't hear much and only realised it was that after someone posted this) and if they play this and I don't get any recordings of that I will die (according to twitter they also soundchecked depth of Satan's eyes!)

Phantom mvp, again.

Germans germaning vs the poor ghoulbangers lady; most of us FLEE when there's an interview person, but luckily there's always a Rampensau (affectionate) ready to save the rest of us

His vocals are so good, god.

Papa is really going through it during satanized, protecting his head and crouching down suffering on the stairs during the guitar solp

Peeeaaacefieeeeld

[groundcontroltopossum]

Well, the good thing was that I didn’t lose consciousness. That can make a real difference in a fall, you know, whether or not your body takes the brunt of it or your head. So while I may have tumbled ass over tits down the steep embankment and not only bruised and battered myself but thoroughly fell off course, at least I was aware. That was nature’s favorite way to find people: unaware.

That was probably what happened to Sarah.

One minute I’m walking along the trails, calling out her name, looking for signs of disturbances in the brush and the next, the ground is giving way and I’m wondering if I’m about to become another statistic. The actual landing was softer than I deserved to be honest. The heavy rain and recent storms made the collapse of the trail more of a landslide and while I got summarily dinged up, I was lucky to settle on top of the disturbed soil instead of plummeting over a cliff face and hitting some rocks below.

Briar Point has a reputation of claiming both hikers and rangers alike and I can honestly say I’m probably the first in a long time that had a trail give way beneath her and lived to tell the tale.

Unless I don’t get out of this. That brings today's consumption to a total of two.

The mountain range was well known as an experienced hikers paradise. The trails aren't easy and budget cuts meant that our team was small but the outlooks were gorgeous, the terrain exciting, and only the most experienced could make it to the top.

Howerever, this challenge also meant that we saw more than our fair share of missing, injured, and dead civilians. The guys at the station were already on the line with the rescue helicopter when my boss asked me to go walk the ridge to Briar Point where Sarah was supposed to be heading.

Two days ago, that is.

Her boyfriend had been found with a broken ankle on a trail off the West Caves, delirious from dehydration, and covered in stings from a hornets nest he had stepped on. He had also been reported missing two days ago but he insisted that Sarah wasn’t with him. He said they had been heading towards the Eagle’s Nest outlook just past the caves when he had gotten separated from her. Unable to locate her, he had turned back but lost his footing and managed to ground himself with the injury until we had located him. He couldn’t account for the hornet stings.

Bruce and Hannah were the more experienced rangers so they had been assigned to search the area the boyfriend had reported they’d been headed to. However, when the pair had checked in at the station, Sarah had signed in at the visitor desk and indicated they were heading up to Briar Point. The boyfriend insisted she had changed her mind on the hike but with no signs of her showing up, I had been sent up to scout the area out.

“Get some of that green out of you” Phill had teased.

Oh, I was never going to hear the end of this.

Failing to notice an unstable part of the trail, taking a hell of a slide down on top of an outcrop, and probably needing my own rescue party would earn me the greenie monaker for the rest of my days.

To add insult on top of injury, I could hear the chirping of the radio, sitting up on the newly emptied trail. No ability to call for help, just have to wait till they find me.

Great.

Although I had been very lucky not to fall off a more substantial cliff, I could feel a building twinge in my ankle that belied nothing good. I could also feel a breeze through my socks which means at some point in my fall, Briar Point had eaten my hiking boots.

My very expensive hiking boots.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I muttered, knocking my head back into the dirt and resigning myself to my humiliating fate.

“Karma, huh?”

Shooting up, I whipped around towards the sound of the voice causing pain to shoot up my spine and a headache to roar to the forefront of my mind but the sudden discomfort mattered little because I had been on the mountain alone.

And suddenly I wasn’t.

Sitting behind me was Sarah. At least, someone that looked like the picture the boyfriend had shown us. The woman sat on the ground, leaning up against a tree that was desperately trying not to have its own fall off the edge of the cliff. She had the same red bandana tied around her forehead and tie dye tank top that the ranger at checker remembered her wear. When she smiled, I noticed a missing incisor which we had been told was the result of an aggressive ex boyfriend that she had never gotten fixed.

It has to be her but why would she be here?

“What do you think you did to deserve the fall?” She absent mindedly licked over the gap in her unwavering smile.

“Sarah?” My body protested as I tried to turn more towards her “Sarah Stovall?”

“That’s the problem with Karma” she continued as though she hadn’t heard me “it always takes too long. It’s not like you get an immediate smack on the hand for a wrong doing. It could take months, years even! You could have just fallen in punishment for a crime you committed as a toddler. What a messed up system”

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you” I felt a sudden desperation to get to her. Like if I didn’t move fast enough, she would disappear like smoke.

“Can we really consider those events even related? If a punishment arrives too late after an act then it can hardly teach a lesson. Also, if Karma is some cosmic force then why should it care about human laws? It probably works off its own system of right and wrong. Maybe that’s why we think it takes so long? We don’t actually know what the universe considered a punishable offense”

“Are you injured…”I broke off in a hiss as I went to stand up and the sudden pressure on my ankle sent pain ricocheting through it. Rolling onto my side, I hiked my leg up and tried to feel around the bone to see if it was broken. My mind conjured images of bones sticking through skin. Squeezing my eyes shut, I huffed through the pain and I gently brushed my fingers over the area to confirm my worst fears.

��Seems like you messed yourself up good” Sarah’s voice was suddenly closer and when I opened my teary eyes, I found her now kneeling in front of me.

“Think I broke my ankle” I confessed, still tenderly tracing it with my fingers. Although I was trained in survival first aid, I suddenly couldn't stomach the thought of feeling my own injuries.

“Broken or sprained?” She inquired, arching an eyebrow “you’re a ranger, right?”

She mimicked the flicking of a hat and I suddenly realized that while my boots had been stolen, my ponytail had kept my cap snug on my head.

“See? You’re trained for this” her smile was blinding as she saw me gently touch my hat in awe. The pain and uncanny appearance of someone who had gone missing two days ago but seemed as fresh as the day she entered the trail made everything feel slow and out of focus. Like I was watching it happen to someone else.

“Ranger…?” She tilted her head as though looking for a name badge on the front of my muddy and torn shirt.

“Greene”

“Ranger Greene!” She clapped her hands and while I thought I should feel condescended to, it ended up making me feel like I had done a good thing. Like a child receiving a gold star.

“So, Ranger Greene” she waved her hand to indicate the ankle I was currently cradling like a landmine “how do we tell the difference between a sprain and a break?”

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling wholly out of my depth. This was basically my entire life of training, as short as it had been so far, and yet in the exact moment when I was the voice of authority, it was the missing hiker who was taking charge. The ache of the various bruises and scrapes echoed on top of the way my ankle had started to throb loudly and I wanted nothing more than to lay in my pile of leaf litter and brush until I faded from existence. Meanwhile, the very person I was set out to find seemed in top shape with only a small bloody scrap on the knee closest to me to show for her misadventure.

“Come one, Ranger Greene” she encouraged when my lack of response dragged past the polite threshold “you know this? Remember from Smokey Scouts?”

“Smokey Scouts?” I jolted as the memories of badges, campfires, and trail mix sales ran through my mind. Not unlike the Girl and Boy Scouts of America, Smokey Scouts had been a smaller contingent created specifically to shape future Forest rangers and eco enthusiasts. I had been wholly consumed by it as a kid. I had struggled so much to fit in. A terrible stutter, frequent family moves, and smothering social anxiety didn’t lend to friendship making. It was my uncle who suggested Smokey Scouts and it was there that I finally found my stride. There was always a work around in the woods. Spending all of our time not only learning to enjoy sitting in silence of nature but also to adapt to the present challenges made it an ideal environment. I thrived and it was the thing that led to me becoming a ranger.

If I was so good as a scout, why wouldn’t I be as good actually getting paid to do it?

Reality was different from fantasy though. I loved my job but I was a long way off from being considered knowledgeable. While I had the Smokey Scouts handbook memorized, real ranger work was vastly different.

Honestly, I was having a hard time coping. It was like excelling in football only to move continents and find a completely different sport. You knew the fundamentals and could adapt but it always left you feeling out of step.

“Chapter Two: First Aid and Survival” Sarah’s voice broke through my reverie “of the Smokey Scouts Guide. How to tell the difference between a sprain and a break in three easy steps. Swelling, pain, and movement”

“Wait, you know the Smokey Scouts Guide?” I was shocked at the near perfect recitation.

“Both injuries swell but breaks swell rapidly while sprains swell slower” the way her eyes settled on me reminded me of my scout master “so, how swollen is it?”

Following the unspoken command of the random lost hiker, I pressed gingerly into the protesting flesh.

“Some but not severe” I carefully suspended my ankle straight into the air as I rolled onto my back. Sitting up but crossing my injured leg over the other in order to keep it off the ground, I slid my fingers beneath my sock and gently rolled it down “light bruising, no discoloration that would be unexpected”.

“And you’ve been able to hold it straight while moving it” she chirped “a broken ankle tends to flop or move in an uncontrolled manner”

“It hurts but not severely” I pressed firmly into the knob of bone “broken ankles hurt on the bone while sprains hurt on either side. The pain seems to be in the musculature not the bone itself”

“So that means..?” She prompted.

“It’s a sprain” I exhaled in relief as she once again clapped.

“Good! Well, not good but better” Sarah laughed “you can walk on a sprain, a break would have left you stranded. Now we just need to secure it”

“I have an ace bandage in my medical bag” I answered mindlessly as I rolled the sock back down. The minimal pressure it provided was soothing.

“Well, that’s great except that you seem to have left that with you radio” she stood, pointing up to the trail I had gracefully fallen from moments earlier “all the way up there”

“Oh crap” I groaned taking in the almost vertical climb to get back to the trail from my area of landing “oh, crap, crap, crap”

“Yeah, something like that” she laughed cheerily. Like we weren't facing a hell of a wait for someone to find us, if they did. Something wasn't right about her. I knew that dehydration and the sun could play absolute havoc on people out here. I tried to reassure myself that she had been missing for two days which meant two days of exposure. She looked relatively ok, aside from the banged up knee and she still had the light backpack on her so her supplies were still accounted for. However, the sunshine barbie personality was starting to grate in a way that I did not appreciate.

“How did you get down here?” It came out more aggressive than I intended.

“I’d worry less about the getting down than the getting out” she shaded her eyes with her hand even though we were well covered by the surrounding foliage “now, I’ve hiked here plenty of times so I know the area pretty well. This outcrop is pretty large but it ends in a straight drop which is a no go. If we go left, we will be stuck walking for miles under the same trail path before hitting another drop off and if we go right we only have about thirty feet before we hit the ledge. The quickest way to get down off the mountain is to get back up on the trail, call for help, and wait for rescue.”

“So” I threw my hands up in exasperation “we’re in trouble”

"Oh no. No, no, no! You're in trouble." She kicked out a leg to show off her boot with the laces tight and double wrapped around the top “I still have my boots on. Somehow, you are going to have to figure out how to climb back up sans boots and on a busted ankle”

“Where are my boots?” I looked around, desperately hoping they would appear in the leaves around me but with the amount of earth and soil and the height that I had fallen, there was a good chance they had flown far.

“Don’t know” she shrugged, still facing away from me “didn’t see them when you fell”

“Hell” I rubbed my hand over my face, mourning the next couple paychecks that would have to be forfeit to replace them.

“Yeah it seems like it” she giggled, kicking out at some of the loose rubble and sending it rolling.

“Wait, hold on, back up” the sharpness of my tone pulled her attention back to me. “Before we do anything, I need answers”

“Ok” she squatted down and sat on her haunches, bringing us closer to eye level “shoot”

“You’re Sarah Stovall”

“Last I checked” I felt my face scrunch at the deflection but soldiered on.

“You’ve been missing for two days”

“Missing to you, maybe” she shrugged “I’ve been out here. I know where I am”

I screwed up my face in annoyance but didn’t ask anything further. Why did it seem like she was enjoying this? Like she didn’t have a care in the world? Joking around and giving cryptic responses when we were stranded up on an outcrop of a mountain with no way to contact anyone and, without looking at her supplies which she had not offered up, no food or water. Giving her the benefit of the doubt that two days up here had left her a hysterical, manic, or fractured individual still didn’t explain the nonchalance she displayed,

“I like this game. Ask better questions” She smirked, tilting her head like a dog.

“Look…I’m just..please…” the childhood stutter loved to come out when I was flustered. It made me feel small and frustrated. I tried to take a deep breath. Speaking slowly and evenly, as I tried to navigate this directionless conversation

“I’m a ranger. Sent after a missing hiker. This is my job. To help people and get them back to safety. That’s what I’m trying to do. If you are Sarah Stovall, you’ve been missing for two days and we need to get you to ranger station. However, I’ve managed to hurt myself in the fall. I can’t do my job if I’m injured like this so we need help.”

“But you found me!” She brought up her wrists and did an approximation of jazz hands that just confirmed my belief in deliriousness “so you know. Job well done”

“Can you just…” I groaned, quietly in frustration. Sarah didn’t seem to be in a rush to escape our current predicament. I had never been good at getting people to listen to me. It was one of the things that I was constantly critiqued about.

‘You speak so quiet’ Phill liked to say, at our monthly check ins ‘how are you going to get people to trust you? To listen in an emergency, if you squeak like a mouse?’

“I need you to listen to me” I tried to be forceful, to push the command into my voice that had never been comfortable there “I can help you. I just need some answers. Why are you on Briar Point?”

“Where else would I be?”

“But your boyfriend was down at the West Caves trail”

“Not too far away then” she arched an eyebrow “if you continue up the path and take the split that curves down towards the Devil's Kettle, you can make good time to the West Caves”

“Yes I know” the flustered feelings were quickly getting eaten by frustration “why weren’t you with him? You look completely fine but he has a broken ankle. He got hurt trying to find you so where…”

“That’s not how he broke his ankle” the reply was cool and smooth. Instead of her bubbly self, she suddenly looked exhausted and a little…angry.

“What?”

“That’s not how he broke his ankle” she rose to her full height and turned her back to me to survey the area around us. It was a decent sized ledge on an outcrop that boasted a few clinging trees. It would be a beautiful picnic spot if not for the means to get to it.

“Then how…”

“Does it matter?” She replied, fiddling with the straps of her backpack “he’s not coming to help. If you want out of this situation, you are going to have to get yourself out. Can you stand on the ankle”

Wanting to argue about the way she had once again avoided answering my questions, I instead resigned myself to the logic of her argument. Without the radio, the choice for rescue was to wait to be found and with the strange way that Sarah was acting, medical help was probably more dire than my dignity. Rolling onto my hands and knees, it took me a second to figure out how to stand up with the ache in my ankle. Letting out a pained yelp, I resolved to bite the bullet and quickly stand up. The pain was less than I thought it would be, but the structural integrity of the joint was shot. I barely had a moment of being upright before my ankle gave out and painfully rolled. Stumbling, I crashed to my knees in the dirt and hissed as I pressed down on the rapidly darkening bruise.

“Well, nothing for it. We will have to splint” She shrugged and I felt that flair of agitation kick back up in my stomach. Watching her near pristine boots walk around me sent a tinge of jealousy that the one time I didn’t double knot mine, they were sent south for the winter “come on, Scout, how do we splint a sprain in the wilderness? It was the same chapter as before”

“How do you know about the Smokey Scouts?” I gingerly rocked onto my bottom, carefully pulling the injured ankle in front of me “how did you know I was one of them”

“You seem like the type” she shrugged, our eyes meeting again at her gentle teasing “am I wrong?”

“No” I sulked “but the guidebook? You know it by heart it seems. Were you a Smokey Scout too?”

“Oh, no” she waved off the comment like an irritating fly “I’m from Jacksonville. We don’t have those there. Seems more like a regional thing in the northwest areas”

“Then how…”

“Chapter Two: First Aid and Survival” her voice rang out to cut me off “when a limb becomes sprained in the wilderness, supplies can be found for a splint all around you. First you must stabilize the joint, using padding like clothing, both above and and below the injury.”

She paused, looking at me pointedly. A feeling of urgency enveloped me and finding my options limited, I tugged off my jacket.

“Make a splint using two study, straight objects. Being careful not to lay them on the bone” she continued as I began to bundle the jacket around the entirety of the foot. Hearing her words, I quickly snagged two broken branches and layered them in the folds of the jacket. “Make sure the splint is tied tight but not so tight that it cuts off circulation. Then began the slow hike back to medical care”

“Finished” I exclaimed as I tied the sleeves tight and secured my injury. My foot might now resemble the stay puft marshmallow man but the pressure did feel eons better.

“Well, look at that, Ranger Greene” Sarah smiled down at my work, her demeanor wiping out the remaining tension “looks like you haven’t forgotten your training after all”

“Help me up” I held out a hand but she walked past, heading straight toward the collapsed face of the outlook as though she hadn’t even seen me.

“Come on, up and at em” She called and I tamped down the growing resentment as I managed to gently albeit clumsily rise to my feet. Mentally muttering about self centered people and poor manners, I reined in my emotions.

I was a professional. A Ranger. A good Ranger does not yell at a park guest no matter how much of a pain in the ass they were being.

My ankle throbbed with every step but the splint held and soon I joined her at the wall.

“Well, good news” I ventured, although my charitable mood was affected by the recent snub “it’s only about 15 or so feet. Not a terrible climb.”

“True but we should avoid the part of the wall near the collapse by a wide margin. It’s obviously weakened and unreliable. Let’s limp down and climb there.” She pointed past the collapse and gingerly I followed her, stabilizing myself on the wall.

“We need to get to the radio, call for help” I huffed as we finally settled on a spot “maybe it's best you go up. I might not be able to climb. Use the radio, tell them we are on Briar Point trail and that the ranger is injured. They can send someone to help”

“Oh, just love it so much, you wanna stay down here?” She gingerly reached out and pawed at different sections of the rock face, checking the possible handholds.

“Look it’s just not safe to climb in a splint, I can barely move it. We would never advise climb without safety ropes anyway”

“Don’t worry, I won’t report you” she laughed, turning to me with her hands on her hips “sorry, Scout, no lay-abouts allowed here. You are going up that wall”

“Why are you being so pushy about this” I leaned against the wall, taking the weight off my ankle. “I’m the ranger here. You said it yourself, I have the training. And I am telling you in my professional capacity to climb the wall and get the radio. Drop it down to me if you don’t feel up to using it but I can’t climb on this leg”

“No”

“The fuck you mean ‘no’” I roared, my professional composure gone. The flippancy, the playfulness had finally pushed me to my limit. This was ridiculous. I may not be the most experienced Ranger but damn it, I knew better than some hiker no matter how often she came out here.

“You aren't staying down here” her voice was gentle, patient. She spoke the way you would to a child in the midst of a temper tantrum. However, I could hear the exasperation underneath. Not only was I being treated like a child but an annoying one. Which just infuriated me more.

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes, you are!” Her voice ripped through the air with enough force to echo “you are giving up. You always do this when the going gets tough! As soon as something gets a little uncomfortable, you pull back and play it easy. Meek. Mild. Afraid. There is no scout guide in life! No rules that everyone has to play by and badges when you accomplish goals.” She was stalking forward as she continued her tyrad, forcing me back into the rock face until the jagged edges dug into my back. “You wanna be the Ranger? Then be the Ranger! Stop letting Bruce leave you with clean up duties. He has two hands, he can pick up the campers mess as well as everyone else. Why do you let Hannah overrun you at the talks? You know just as much about tracks as she does but you always stand there like a prop while she blathers on. Hell, you are months out of your beginner phase and yet the new guy gets to go by his name while you are still called the Greenie. STAND UP FOR YOURSELF GREENE” she towered over me, my body locked up as she stripped these words directly from my mind “You are the only one that is going to give a damn about you in this world. You have to step up, you have to demand respect, and you have to get yourself out of this situation. If you want to lay down here and die, that’s fine but quit expecting everyone else to make it easy on you to do so. You have to do it, Ranger Greene. You have to save yourself!”

The air was tense and still. Not even the sound of birds or other wildlife to break the stillness that surrounded us. She stared down at me, hard and unblinking as if she hadn’t just ripped me open on one side and out the other. My hands shook where they were clinched at my side. Nausea rolled in my stomach as I forced myself to meet her gaze. I felt like I should have been caught on how she knew the other rangers and how they treat me. How she seemed to spear me apart so intimately, like she could see in my head and pick out the fears.

“How…I…” I tried to speak but I felt like a child. Abashed and too afraid to push back. Begging the world not to look at me yet dying for attention all the same.

“What do you want, Ranger Greene?” Her voice was smooth, straight. She wasn’t yelling but she was still firm.

“I…”

“You won’t stutter” she assured, her shoulders relaxing as she crossed her arms and leaned back, giving me a modecrum of space.

“I want you to respect me” my voice was small but it didn’t waver “I’m the Ranger. I want you to trust me”

“I’ve walked all over you the entire time you’ve been up here” She raised an eyebrow but the rest of her face remained neutral “you either earn respect or command it. You seem to expect to be given it without needing to do the work”

“No, I…”

“You want my respect?” She leaned closer, nearly forcing eye contact “the respect of Phill? Bruce? Hannah?”

“Yes”

“Get on the wall” she pointed upward “get yourself out of your situation and earn it”

She didn’t touch me but I felt compelled to turn around and stare up at the rock face. It wasn’t terribly far and I’d done my fair share of rock climbing in my day. I had the skill to get up there but…

“What if I fall?”

“Then you fall” she hadn’t moved from behind me but her voice sounded kinder, more indulgent “that doesn’t mean you failed. Better to do so because you tried to get out than to never try in the first place.”

Reaching up, I gripped first with my left hand and then with my right and began to climb the wall. The pain in my ankle burned, the bulk of the splint slowed me down by constantly forcing me to readjust my foot hold, but slowly, I began to move up. Puffing out shallow breaths, I focused on keeping my body close to the wall as I inched up.

“Good job, you’re doing well” the proximity of her voice made me believe that Sarah was scaling the wall as well but the blood rushing through my ears and my own intense concentration prevented me from glancing back at her. “When you get to the radio, tell the rescue team to come up the Briar Point trail not to cut across like we talked earlier from the West Caves”

“Why?” I bit out, inching up further and keeping my eyes fixed on the slowly approaching ledge at the top “that’s where they were when I left. It would be quicker”

“Because of the hornets” she sounded like she was right next to me “the little split trail between Briar and Devil's Kettle doesn’t get used much anymore. So when the hornets built their nests there, nobody was there to notice and they infested the area. If you rush through like the rescue team would, you’ll stir them up and get attacked”

“Hornets” I grunted, throwing my arm up over the top, sweat stinging my eyes “how do you know about that? Didn’t you get separated before then?”

“It’s really easy to agitate them” she continued, not even the barest bit of strain in her voice. As though we were taking a stroll, not scrambling up a rock wall without any safety equipment “they can chase their prey for miles. Nothing will stop them, not even a broken ankle”

“Wait” I panted, pulling myself up and onto the trail. Letting out a groan and breathless laugh, I rolled over into my back, letting my legs dangle over the edge as I fought to get my breath back “is that…what happened…to him?”

“He must have stomped on their nest when he was running through the trail” I had closed my eyes in the glare of the sun but I felt her standing over me “he wasn’t being careful when he ran away”

“Ran away?” Sitting up, I tried to meet her gave but the glare of the sun forced me to look away.

“You got lucky” she huffed out a laugh and I felt I was missing the joke “you landed soft. If it had been your neck or head instead of the ankle, you probably wouldn’t have made it out. Even a distance as short as fifteen feet can be deadly if you land wrong”

“Is that what happened?” I crawled away from the edge and limped my way to the radio “did you fall off the trail?”

“It was a stupid argument” she continued as if she hadn’t heard me “we had never been physical before but maybe it was the heat or the moment. Maybe I finally said something just a little too far.”

“Greene…come in…Greene” the radio crackled to life in my hands. I dragged my attention away from her for the sake of rescue.

“Phill, can you hear me?” I eased myself down to sitting at the side of the trail. My busted ankle finally gave up the ghost.

“Greene, where the hell have you been?” he barked back but even I could pick up a note of relief in his voice.

“I found Sarah, up on Briar point, there was an accident. I'm injured. We need medics” I knew I was completely off on radio etiquette but frankly I couldn’t care less at the moment.

“Greene, you’re breaking up” his response crackled and I wished I could be surprised that the radios were acting up.

“Sarah, Sarah, I found Sarah” I hissed, trying to get it to go through.

“I wasn’t lucky” the crunch of her boots sounded to my left as I continued to fiddle with the radio, trying to find better reception “maybe this was my Karma”.

“Sarah? Yeah, Greene, we found her” I froze, focusing on the radio as his voice finally started to come through clearly “helicopter spotted her body about a half hour ago. Son of a bitch boyfriend came clean, said they had an argument, and pushed her up near the peak of Briar Point. Claimed he didn’t mean to kill her but she was closer to the edge than he thought she was. Hell of a fall. Knocked her boots off”

An eerie feeling came over me. In the corner of my vision, I could still see Sarah’s boots. The ones that she supposedly didn’t have anymore.

“Sarah is dead” my voice was flat as I fought the compulsion to turn towards the person at my side. This not-Sarah, whoever this was.

“Affirmative. Nobody survives a fall like that, Greene. Likely didn’t happen too far from you if you are still up on that trail. You might have heard the heli”

Slowly, I turned. Ready to face whoever had been on the trail with me. The person who had teased and torn me open. Whoever, it was that had goaded me to climb a wall with a busted ankle and get myself out of trouble.

But the trial was empty.

Sarah was gone. The radio chirped and chattered in my hands as I stared down at the only thing on the trail with me.

An empty pair of double knotted hiking boots.

Prompt #1175

"We're in trouble."

"Oh no. No, no, no! You're in trouble."

[setmeatopthepyre]

♠ for Bucktommy pls?

coming right up!

♠ One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/etc. [bucktommy | 944 words]

“Evan?”

Buck looked over his shoulder, caught sight of Tommy’s puzzled frown, gave the sauce another stir and then turned down the heat. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“What are you wearing?”

Buck glanced down at his apron. It was… just an apron. One of the aprons he usually wore when cooking. “An apron?”

“No, I mean-” Tommy stepped in close and Buck’s hands automatically drifted down to Tommy’s hips, settling there, warm and familiar, feeling the muscle below shift with each breath. Tommy’s hands came up and Buck leaned in, ready for those big hands to cradle his face, drag him into a kiss. Maybe this was some pick-up line from a movie Buck didn’t know and, honestly, he didn’t care as long as he got kisses out of it.

But Tommy didn’t kiss him. Instead, his fingers traced along Buck’s throat, sending goosebumps down his arms and spine, and that’s when Buck remembered.

“Oh! Right. I, uh, washed your flight suit? This was in the pocket and I didn’t want to forget where I put it-”

He fumbled the silver chain out from under the collar of his shirt, the tag dangling from it still skin-warm. Scrunching his chin down to look at the embossed letters, he wondered if they’d left their mirror-image mark on his skin, wondered if he’d been temporarily branded with Kinard, Thomas somewhere on his chest. He was tempted to check. “So, you’re O positive, huh?” he said instead, deciding that was probably a little less weird.

“Yep,” Tommy said, popping the ‘p’. He tapped the metal tag. “And now you know my Social Security number, too.”

“And that you’re, uh-” he angled the tag. “NO PREF? What's that?”

“No religious preference.”

“Why? I get blood type, but...”

“Same reason it’s got my name. In case I can’t tell them and arrangements need to be made.”

“Arrangements?” Then it dawned on Buck. Right. Oh. “Like-- Like for a funeral?” Just thinking about it made him want to grab hold of Tommy again and never let go.

“H-hm,” Tommy hummed, apparently not as bothered by the thought as Buck was, and that just wouldn’t do. Buck let the tag fall back against his chest to free up his hands so that he could tangle his fingers into Tommy’s shirt, his sides, pulling him closer. Tommy went easily, squirming just a little when Buck’s fingers traced over his ribs. “Menace,” he chided with a soft little smile.

“That’s me,” Buck grinned. Then glanced down again. “So you wear this when you’re flying? I don’t remember seeing it before.”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t really wear it. Never did, honestly.” He frowned a little, thoughtful, and Buck wondered if this was one of those army things he didn’t want to talk about, but he seemed OK for now and Buck would happily take whatever Tommy facts he could get. After a moment of Tommy tracing his thumb over the letters of his name, he continued, “I laced them into my boots most of the time, back then. Don’t want the chain getting caught in anything when you’re doing maintenance.” He said it with a little what can you do?-shrug that felt like an understatement to the gruesome mental images Buck’s mind was helpfully conjuring up for him from a sprawling selection of calls. People got jewelry caught in spectacularly stupid ways sometimes.

“Yeah, makes sense,” Buck said, blinking away the memory of the guy with all the pendants who’d gotten himself stuck in a rotary saw. “And now?”

“I just keep it in my pocket,” Tommy says. “Right where you found it. Though I usually remember to take it out, too.”

“You also usually don’t wash your flight suits at home, so...”

“That’s a great point,” Tommy said, eyes scrunching at the way Buck knew his face was lighting up with the praise. He knew it was kind of stupid, but it was the way Tommy complimented him, like it was the most natural thing in the world, that really did it for him.

Still, a thought nagged at him.

“S-So you have it on you in case you, uh, crash?”

Tommy shrugged again. “No, it’s more of a…” He looked a little embarrassed, all of a sudden, and Buck was immediately intrigued. Tommy didn’t really get embarrassed much. He knew what he liked and what he wanted and if anything, he got defensive instead of embarrassed about his guilty pleasures if he felt like he was being judged. But this didn’t feel like that. Buck desperately wanted to know more. If he could, he'd open up Tommy's brain and examine every last cell of it under a microscope. But he couldn't, at least not in a way that would be at all good for anyone.

“More of a…?” he prompted instead.

Tommy sighed, met his eyes with an exasperated look. “I just figured, I survived the army with it on me, so, I might as well have it on me now.”

Buck grinned, absolutely delighted, and draped his arms over Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him closer still. “Kinard comma Thomas, are you telling me you have a good luck charm?”

“No. Maybe. Fine.” Tommy huffed a laugh and pulled him in by the waist. “What, jealous?”

Buck pulled back a little. “Why would I be jealous?”

Tommy wasted no time closing the distance, said into his ear, “Well, because that would mean you’re not my only good luck charm, Evan.”

Warmth bloomed in his face, across his chest, where the tag was pressed between them now, and Buck laughed.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous. I’d maim its ankles if it had any.”

[callikari]

𝓎our my ───── 𝒻avorite place

。 the way you hold him feels like home

西村力 x fem!reader · fluff soft romance 🍒 684 wc 、 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ established relationship heavy fluff kisses slight teasing skinship

• more like this 🗑️

"you’re so annoying.”

you say it with a sigh, dramatic on purpose—but it doesn’t land the way you hoped. not when riki’s standing there, looking at you with those wide eyes like he might actually fall apart if you don’t give in.

“am i?” he says, voice low and almost teasing, but there’s that edge of softness he only uses with you. his fingers drift up your arm lazily, and before you can say anything else, he’s already pulling you closer, bottom lip jutting out just enough to make a point.

“yes,” you mutter, but it’s barely convincing. your voice wavers, and riki knows exactly what that means.

he glances up at you, still holding onto your sleeve like it’s going to change your mind. “you don’t mean that.”

“you’re impossible,” you sigh, but you’re already wrapping your arms around him, giving him exactly what he wants.

“just one hug?” he asks quietly, like he doesn’t want to push it—but he’s definitely going to.

you roll your eyes, but the second he leans into you, you stop pretending. he fits against you too easily, his face pressed into the side of your neck, arms around your waist like he’s been missing this all day.

“you’re so needy,” you mumble, hand finding the back of his shirt.

“i know,” he says without hesitation, his voice muffled. “but it’s fine. it’s you.”

he relaxes against you completely, and you don’t even try to pull away. his fingers hook into the hem of your shirt absentmindedly, just holding on. for a while, neither of you says anything.

then, quietly: “can i have a kiss now?”

you tilt your head slightly, pulling back just enough to look at him. his eyes are on yours, a little too hopeful. his lips hover near yours, not quite touching.

“please,” he adds, softer this time. “just one.”

you shake your head like you’re annoyed, but you’re smiling, and he knows he’s won already.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“but you like me,” he says, smug but not pushing it.

you don’t reply. instead, you lean in and kiss him, slow and familiar. the kind that doesn’t need to prove anything. he melts into it, like he’s been holding his breath.

he doesn’t let go when you pull back. still clinging, still looking at you like you hung the stars.

“another one?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

you laugh under your breath, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “you’re a handful.”

“you’re stuck with me,” he murmurs, completely unbothered.

this time, when he pulls you down onto the couch with him, you go willingly. he curls into you without a second thought—head resting against your chest, arms wrapped tight around you like he’s never letting go.

“can we just stay like this?” he says, quieter now. “you. me. like this.”

you press a kiss to the top of his head, fingers threading through his hair.

“fine. one more minute.”

riki doesn’t say anything, just squeezes you a little tighter, and in that moment, it’s enough.

enhypen taglist :: @ash-engen @cheruphic @chrrific @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read @ijustwannareadstuff20

© callikari — all rights reserved

[machinemonstrosity]

HATRED'S EMBRACE | betrayed!1x1x1x1 x reader

WARNINGS - NONE , brief mentions of blood , fluff , comfort but 1x probably needs it more , he/she/they used interchangeably for 1x , 1x with wings truther

a/n - i promise i will get to requests at one point! writing has been difficult for me recently, hence why this one is a little short and maybe sloppy. this radioactive glowstick has been rotating in my head recently.........

She growled any time you attempted to wriggle away.

You never expected 1x1x1x1 to be so… cuddly.

Huge clawed hands grappled at the fabric of your shirt, the surprisingly delicate touch leaving sharp fingertips to lightly graze your stomach. Large wings enveloped you in a dark cocoon, obsidian feathers rustling in sync to the steady rise and fall of her chest. Their breath — in which you never knew he had — ghosted the back of your neck in warm gusts. Each exhale was rumbly, creating a quiet “hnngh” that eventually served as your rhythmic reassurance.

Despite how you initially tensed, bracing for impact and the sickeningly familiar heat of fresh blood trickling down flesh, nothing ever came. Her claws never pierced you. The cold press of the chains entangling their arms somehow never reached you. He caressed you as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

As if he didn't want to hurt you.

You were both shielded in your own little world. And he wasn't going to let you leave anytime soon.

Truthfully, you were afraid of the expression she was currently wearing. You expected some sort of disgusted scowl, a mocking sneer at your dependency towards such a beast, perhaps. No one in their right mind goes to the manifestation of hatred and malice for comfort, after all. Much less have said manifestation humor your desperate pleas.

The strange benefits of your existence being tolerated by 1x, you presumed.

Limbs interlocked with yours, you finally dared to contort your head behind your shoulder. Yet when your eyes caught the rough features of her face, you found nothing of what you feared.

They looked calm. Peaceful, almost.

He’s taken to burying his face in the top of your head, disheveled white hair falling over your shoulders. It was only after pestering 1x to the point you swore smoke was going to billow from their nostrils that she begrudgingly tore out her hair tie. Not to mention having to coax it out of his hand after — or the last few threads remaining of it.

Admittedly, he looked nice with their hair down. You swore their eyes softened a fraction when you complimented him, even if you were immediately brushed off with a dismissive click of her tongue and a snarl. Your kind words and gestures had an effect on him, whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not.

You would've maneuvered your body to face them if you knew it wasn't going to startle them. So instead, you settled, simply melting into their careful touch. Accepting his form of affection, knowing they were trying their best. After all, none of this would've been happening if 1x1x1x1 didn't care enough to comfort you.

Letting a walking glowstick snuggle you like a teddy bear made you smile, anyway.

And maybe she was desperate for some comfort, too.

[jaylaxies]

TEASER: CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, mentions of fighting, blood, more to be added!

WC: 15k words (estimated).

TEASER WC: 1654 words.

SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! i'm back with a jeno fic (oh finally) i was and still am too invested in writing this, i hope you guys will enjoy it! send an ask or comment to be added! <33 (make sure to have your age visible on your blog! blank blogs will not be added to the tl). ps. happy jeno day <3

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[81pastrys]

Morning Song

Summary— Lila doesn’t know the lyrics to their song until Lando leads while making dinner

Warnings— shy Lila

A/N— so cute 🥺

Dad Lando List

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— hii, so, do you remember that mclaren video where lando and oscar had to guess and sing songs? i just remembered the part where lando sang along "the climb" from hannah montana and thought of him and his daughter singing it while having breakfast in their house or maybe after he picks her up from kindergarten, during the car ride. just something sweet between them both and the song itself or the series and movies. thanksss

Lando and Lila had a beautiful father-daughter relationship. Lila’s mum adored the small things they would do. One day Lila was humming a song and she was confused on what song it was.

“Lila what song is that?” She asked, Lila was working on some coloring sheets assigned as ‘homework’ for kindergarten.

“Me and daddy’s song.” Lila said, her face lighting up with a smile and soft giggles erupting. Her mum had never heard Lando talk about him and Lila’s ‘song’ so she asked Lila to sing the words.

Lila went shy and red, putting her colors down and sighing. “It’s okay if you don’t remember them sweetheart, I just don’t know the song.” Lila looked nervous or anxious when she looked up to her mum.

“I don’t know all the words, daddy does.” She admitted. Her mum left it at that and Lila finished coloring. Lando got home from working and was greeted by his girls.

“Hey sweetheart.” He said and kissed the little girl on the head. Her fluffy curls bouncing as she did, excited to see Lando. It was nearing dinner and his wife took a shower, leaving them in charge of an easy dinner.

“Daddy can we play that song?” Lila asked, looking up as Lando watched over the food on the stove. Lando giggled and connected his phone to a speaker and searching for the song.

The climb by Miley Cyrus, her favorite song since he went all out on a McLaren media video in Austin. She hummed the beginning and then Lando started the song off. “That dream, I’m dreaming.” Lila completed the line with a giggle, Lando using the spatula as a microphone now instead of a cooking utensil.

Lando continued the mellow verses until it got to the good part and Lila giggled trying to sing with him. He was dancing around and making silly faces as he did so, her giggles replacing the singing completely. “There’s always gonna be another mountain!” Lando sang the lyric and then pointed the ‘microphone’ to Lila.

“I’m always gonna wanna make it move.” She giggled with the song. Lando followed giggling with her. They sang a lyric together and her mum emerged from the corner, adoring the sight in front of her.

“Look at you two singers.” She smiled big. Lila shied away and Lando kept singing to her. Her mum giggled as Lila’s face showed clear embarrassment.

“Come on Lila it’s your favorite part!” Lando encouraged her to continue singing. “Waiting on the other side!” Lando dragged out with his daughter. “There you go!” He smiled. The music died to a lower volume for background music and her mum took over dinner.

Lando put Lila on the counter and they watched dinner being made by the ‘professional’ now. “That’s our song.” Lila said under her breath. Lando whipped his head to her and his face showed a bit of confusion.

“What do you mean sweetheart?” He asked. His wife shrugged and gave him a look of confusion as well. “Do you mean you didn’t want mama to hear us?” He asked her quietly, for his wife not to hear. Lila nodded at him and he fake pouted. “But then she wouldn’t hear your beautiful singing voice.”

Lila looked at him with adoration, she didn’t think she was good at singing. “Really?” Lila asked. Lando nodded. “You sing better than me.” She cowered again.

“Oh Lila, don’t say that.” Lando said. “You sing beautifully and I sing horribly.” She giggled and her mum also smiled. Dinner was ready and played, all Lila’s worries washed away when they ate dinner.

No words, speechless. Lando would do this.

@il0vereadingstuff @kallanfiona @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @justaf1girl @chertik-007vvv

[rollinouttahere-writes]

One of the mind-only fics I’ve had rolling around in my head is kinda similar to the Strays AU, but whatever, might as well.

Reader is Akainu’s kid and by some series of misadventures ends up being collected by Whitebeard. Kinda shifts between whether the Reader is a marine like their dad wants them to be, or if they ran away because they don’t like their dad. I typically imagine them as an older teenager, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

Maybe a bit much on detail, but if they ran away, Akainu reports them as missing, either because he won’t publicly admit that his child ran away, or he’s delusional and doesn’t realize how much they hate him, so marines are actively searching for them and when they show up with Whitebeard people think that the pirates kidnapped them, (which may or may not be true, not like the old man wouldn’t).

Breaking Point

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

3.6k words

Summary: An espionage mission gives you the perfect cover to get away from your Admiral father and the life he forced you into. Everything seems to be going according to plan until some pirates corner you.

Warnings: unhealthy parent-child relationship, akainu being akainu, reader being in a terrible mental state, hopelessness, suicide attempt, blood, drugging

I did tweak the prompt a little bit, so I hope you don't mind. I also hope you aren't opposed to darker themes. If it bothers you, I'll write an alternate version of the scene where the reader snaps.

Clothes? Check. First aid kit? Check. Matches and firestarter? Check. Food and water? Check. Hygiene supplies? Check. Emergency shelter? Check. Money? Check.

Looks like you’re all set. Time to head out.

With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you march out of the barracks so you can begin your mission. At least, that’s what everyone thinks you’re doing. You’ll let them keep believing that.

A sharp call of your name brings you to a halt, and you instinctively stand at attention. The empty halls allow for the sound of his footsteps to echo all around you. It’s debatable which is louder. The Admiral’s footsteps, or your own heartbeat. 

Akainu comes to a stop in front of you, glowering down at your form. His piercing eyes scrutinize your appearance. Instead of your usual uniform, you’re in civilian clothing for the mission. Spying in a Marine’s uniform would obviously not go well.

“At ease.” You relax your posture at his command. “I trust that you don’t need any further briefing on your mission?”

“No, sir.” Despite the man in front of you being your biological father, this is the only way you referred to him. Both in and out of work. “I understand the assignment in full.”

“As you should. I expect you to come back with results.”

“I will, sir.”

The Admiral stares at you a moment longer, then nods sharply, “You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” With that, you take your leave, stepping down the halls of the base to leave. Just as you’re about to pass the threshold, you hear your name spoken again.

Akainu’s expression is as terse as ever as he stares a hole into you. He then sighs and turns away, “Don’t disappoint me.”

Of course those are his last words to you. Resentment twists inside you like a knife. Fuck this. You can’t wait to never have to see this bastard’s face again. You don’t respond to him, and you know that he doesn’t expect you to.

You march out of the base and toward the docks where a privateer vessel is waiting for you. It was a small, inboard paddlewheeler with an enclosed helm that doubled as a sleeping quarters. A nice ship. Shame you’re going to have to ditch it soon.

“(Y/N)!” There was a call of your name yet again, but this time it didn’t leave you in a worse mood for it. Koby sets down a couple of boxes of provisions on the boat, then leaps onto the docks, “We’ve got her all ready to go!”

A wisp of a smile graces your typically stern features, “Thanks, Koby. I appreciate it.”

“Hey!” Helmeppo jumps from the ship to the docks as well, landing with noticeably less grace than the former, “I- whoa- I helped too, don’t give him all the credit!”

His moody outburst makes you chuckle. Almost no one dared to speak to you in such a way given who your “father” is. You’ll miss these two. “Sorry, sorry. Thank you, Helmeppo. The Marines would be lost without you.” The new recruit beamed with pride, seemingly not picking up on the sarcasm. 

Koby was looking at you with awe. He’d never once tried to hide his admiration for your strength and rank, and he wasn’t about to start now. “It’s amazing that you get to go on a solo mission! I can’t wait until we get to do something like this!”

Helmeppo has a whole body reaction to the statement, recoiling away from his comrade as if the very words would harm him, “Speak for yourself! Did you miss the part about them having to spy on Red Haired Shanks?!”

“I know! Imagine being entrusted to go after an Emperor!” Koby’s eyes had turned to stars as he fantasized about his own missions some day resembling yours. 

“I’d rather imagine literally anything else.” Helmeppo shudders at the thought, “I mean, really? Why are they sending some kid to do this? Shouldn’t an Admiral like your dad be taking on missions of this caliber?”

Hearing Akainu getting referred to in such a cozy term of endearment makes you want to punch Helmeppo in the face, but you refrain. Barely. Hoping that your schooled expression doesn’t bely your true emotions, you answer him curtly, “Because they need to send someone that won’t be instantly identifiable. Do you think there’s a single pirate in the world that wouldn’t recognize an Admiral immediately?”

“I guess that’s true, but it’s still kinda messed up to be sending a kid. There are plenty of no-name Marines that are actually adults. I don’t see why they’re sacrificing you.”

Okay, the twenty questions game was starting to get old. You wanted to get out of here, not linger and explain your mission in excessive detail to a newbie. If you don’t leave soon, you run the risk of Akainu coming over here and asking what the delay is. You shoulder past the two recruits and leap onto the boat, “I’m not a sacrifice. The rank of Commodore wasn’t handed to me, I earned it. I’ve been trained for this for as long as I can remember.”

Koby ducked down to untie your boat with haste, then tossed the rope to you. He’s still starry eyed, and waves excitedly at you as your boat begins to drift away, “Good luck! I can’t wait to hear about everything when you’re back!”

Instead of answering, you just hit him with the good old smile and nod maneuver, then slip inside the cabin. You won’t be back. Never. You’d rather die than ever set foot on a Marine base again.

—

Several weeks have passed since your departure and covert runaway. At this point, they still believe you to be on assignment, and if everything continues as planned, it should be several months until your absence becomes known. Due to the high risk nature of spying on an Emperor, there would be zero communications until you got back. Sengoku wasn’t willing to risk you being found out if the Red Haired Pirates had a black transponder snail on them. Not only would it jeopardize your safety seeing as that you were alone and didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell against an Emperor’s crew, but the discovery would likely make them much harder to tail going forward since they would now know to be wary of this tactic.

Of course, you were nowhere near where that crew had been sighted lurking about. Your end goal was to get out of the Grand Line entirely and start life anew on some remote island where no one would ever think to look for you. Ideally, you would be assumed dead. Killed in action while stalking a predator you had no hopes against. 

If anyone knew you were still alive and just deserted the marines… Well, you’ve seen what Akainu does to people like that, and you aren’t naive enough to think that you’ll get special treatment because you’re his child. If anything, that would incentivize him more to make an example out of you. To prove that he would never go easy on anyone.

All in the name of his precious Absolute Justice. 

Currently, your biggest hurdle was the calm belt. Even if you hadn’t ditched- and burned- your original vessel, it would have done little to help you cross it. Sure, the absence of wind and ocean currents wouldn’t have slowed it down, but its wooden structure never would have stood a chance against the dense population of sea kings lurking in the depths of that part of the sea.

What you needed was something sturdy and fast. A high powered engine in a preferably metal boat that could take a few hits if need be. On top of that, you needed some weapons to assist you in fending off the beasts. As powerful as you were, even you could only do so much against the likes of such a creature.

Despite all of the risks, you feel relatively confident in your plan. All that you need to do is make it at least halfway through. After that, you think you’ll be able to fly the rest of the way out or at least island hop to the North Blue. Of course, you being a zoan devil fruit user came with risks, but hopefully the fear of drowning if your wings grow too tired will motivate you to persevere through exhaustion.

As long as you can pull this off, and do so without calling attention to yourself, you’ll finally have the freedom you’ve yearned after for so long. It’s so close that you can taste it.

“Commodore (Y/N)! Fancy seeing you here.”

W h a t ?

Once hot blood runs cold as ice through your veins. Who the fuck said that? You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder to see who just recognized you. This could ruin everything. You can’t risk a sighting. You’ll have to kill whoever saw you.

“Whoa! If looks could kill, I don’t think I’d survive that one!” The man laughs and jumps down from the rooftop he’d been perched upon. Oh, fuck. That’s Fire Fist Ace. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

Another person drops down in front of you, prompting you to whip your head back around only to see Marco the Phoenix blocking the other exit to this alleyway. Oh, this couldn’t get any worse! What’s next?! Is fucking Whitebeard himself going to appear, too?!

More Whitebeard Pirates filter into the alley, but Ace and Marco appear to be the only big name members here. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Marco holds up his hands in a placating manner, though it’s anything but. “Nothing much,” he steps closer, “I promise that none of us want to hurt you, but we’re in a bit of a bind.”

“And? How’s that my problem?”

“We need to pick up some medicine for pops, but the only island that has enough of it right now has a Marine base on it. This medicine is really important, we can’t risk it getting destroyed in an attack, so that’s where you come in. In order to guarantee its safety, we’ll let them know that we have an Admiral’s kid in our custody, and that you won’t be released unless we get what we need.” Marco smirks, “Now are you going to make this easy or difficult? Because I can promise you, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”

No. No, no, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening! This can’t be fucking happening! You were so close, and now everything is going to be ruined because of some fucking pirates! Your hands are shaking- no, your whole body is! Your heart is pounding, adrenaline is spiking, your nerves are on fire. No. You aren’t about to give up and let them take you and ruin your life.

“No… you can’t do this to me.” You shake your head and meet Marco’s lax eyes, “I won’t let you!”

In a split second, your arms transform into wings, and you shoot yourself up into the air. Your legs turn next, shifting into clawed talons that you use to send an attack at Fire Fist and the people clustered around him. Everyone but him dives out of the way as the strike slashes through the cobblestones and walls. Ace tanks the hit directly, but all it does is go right through the logia devil fruit user.

“Not bad, but you’re going to need to do better than that to actually hurt me!” Ace erupts into a column of flames and directs it right at you. Just what you wanted. You flap your wings hard, blasting the fire right back at him- but more importantly- the people around him. They all scream as their clothes catch to fire, making Ace immediately panic and focus on them rather than you.

Not wanting to waste a single precious second, you take off, cutting through the air with remarkable speed. That much is to be expected of someone with the Tori Tori no Mi Model: Peregrine Falcon. As one of the fastest animals on the planet, your speed was generally unmatched. Kizaru was the only person that could ever really challenge you in terms of speed. Escaping these pirates should be a breeze.

“You’re pretty good! I wouldn’t expect anything less from an Admiral’s kid!” The voice of Marco comes from above.

You look up just in time to dodge him swooping down to try and grab you. Fuck, he’s fast! It’s time to engage in some real evasive maneuvers. You rip off your backpack and chuck it at him, then shift into your full beast form.

With your body shrunk down to the size of the bird your devil fruit is modeled after, taking the backpack with you would be impossible. You’ll have to come back for it later, or maybe not at all depending on how poorly this goes. 

In your true form, you’re able to take full advantage of the speed the peregrine falcon is known for. Buildings all meld into a blur as you rocket through and around them. A family shrieks as you speed through one open window and out the other, then you’re weaving through lines upon lines of laundry, and next you’re in an open market.

As quickly as you shot off, you stop and slip under a table, the cloth on it easily concealing your presence. Your heart is pounding and you’re panting hard as you wait in silence. The tablecloth doesn’t get ripped off by your pursuer or anyone else, so you’re cautiously optimistic that you succeeded in losing him. Now you just had to figure out how to get out of here without being spotted again. All of those pirates saw what you look like in all of your forms, which was going to be a major problem. The second you leave this sanctuary, you’re going to be at risk.

There isn’t a clear, easy option. You’re just going to have to take a gamble and hope that your beast form will be unassuming enough to not catch their eyes again. You peek under the tablecloth to see if any of the Whitebeard Pirates are lurking nearby. It doesn’t look like any of them are here.

Okay, here goes nothing. You fly out from your hiding spot and high into the air at what should look like a normal speed for a bird. Flying as fast as you can would just draw attention to you. So long as you look like a normal bird at a glance, you should be able to get away unnoticed.

“There you are.”

Before you can even blink, a taloned foot closes around your small form. You squawk in surprise, then immediately shift into a half-bird form to try and break Marco’s hold. Something cold snaps around your wrist, and all of your energy is sapped away in an instant, right along with your powers.

Sea stone cuffs. They came prepared. You fall through the air, but only briefly before Marco catches you. He lands hard on a rooftop, but remains upright and doesn’t drop you. He grins, but his eyes have an odd gleam to them that you don’t recognize, “You’re good. I didn’t think they still made Marines like you anymore.” Why is he complimenting you? Weird.

You start to struggle in his hold, but he’s faster than you and locks the other cuff around your free hand. Now you’re completely at their mercy. This is awful. This is a worst case scenario.

“Now then, let’s get you back to the ship.”

—

The journey from the small seaside town to the Whitebeards’ ship was lost on you. You weren’t processing any of it. As soon as reality sank in, you went completely numb. Every word said by the pirates around you bounced right off you.

They were going to know. You’re nowhere near where Shanks and his crew are. They’re going to know you deserted. He’s going to know you deserted. It’s over. Your life is over. These pirates signed your death certificate as soon as they locked those cuffs on you.

Distantly, you glance at your surroundings. You’re chained to a cot in what looks to be the ship’s infirmary. Only one of your hands is cuffed, the other is free again. They aren’t concerned about a devil fruit user being dangerous while sea stone cuffs are eating away at your strength. What a disaster. Years of training, and this is how it ends.

Fingers snap in front of your face, and you look up sluggishly at the person disturbing you. Twin Blade Thatch is at your bedside, looking… confused? Sad? This is another expression that you don’t recognize.

He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “You okay there, kid?” When you don’t answer, he looks over his shoulder, “Did you give them something?”

“No,” the voice belongs to Marco. “They’ve been out of it since we caught them. They’re… really upset about getting captured, it seems.”

Thatch lightly claps you on the shoulder, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid. It’s not like you got caught by a weak crew. There are plenty of Marines well above your rank that wouldn’t have won this fight either.”

“Yeah, you actually gave us some real trouble there at the start.” Ace was in here too, apparently. “Not many people are able to use my own powers against me, that was pretty smart.”

“Before I forget to ask, do you have any allergies? I don’t want to accidentally kill you with my cooking.” Thatch stares at you expectantly, but his smile fades as you neglect to answer his question. “Is that a… no? Come on, I’m just trying to help you out here, you don’t need to be so guarded. I can even make you your favorite meal to make up for the situation we put you in.”

“It doesn’t matter…” Nothing does.

“Don’t say that. We’ve gotta feed you, kid.” That weird expression is on his face again. You wish he’d stop making it. “It won’t take long to get the medicine we need. You’ll be back with your old man before you know it.”

No! “I won’t go back!” Hot tears start to drip down your face, then pour as the last thread of sanity within you snaps, “I’m not going back! You can’t make me go back there! I won’t let you!”

Ace is standing close enough that you’re able to lunge at him and rip the dagger from his belt with your free hand. He tries to snatch it back, but your frantic state gives you the speed you usually only have with your devil fruit’s help. You aren’t going back, you’ll make sure of it! Marco might be able to heal, but he isn’t a necromancer. Even he won’t be able to do anything about a corpse. Dying by your own hands will be better than being burnt alive by the magma Akainu will use on you.

You raise the knife high, then plunge it down at your stomach. Blood splatters all over your torso… but you don’t feel any pain. You blink once, then twice. Your eyes finally focus on the sight in front of you. The knife is stabbed into a hand. It then closes around the hilt and snatches the weapon from your hands. Ace lets out a string of curses as he rips his own dagger from his hand.

All you can do is stare at him. W… What? Why did he do that? That shouldn’t have hurt him. Why would a logia devil fruit user let themselves get hurt like that?

Nurses rush toward him, but also you. All of your limbs are pinned down by them. Not that there was any need. The fight had left your body as your mind grew hazy again. You didn’t get it. You couldn’t comprehend what just happened or why.

A prick to your neck snaps you out of it. Your head was being held down, but your eyes flit to the side and see that Marco had a needle pressed into your neck and was injecting you with something. In an instant, a warmth spreads through you, and your body goes completely slack.

Marco heaves a sigh and sets the syringe aside. His hand gently strokes your hair for reasons you couldn’t understand. He speaks softly, “There we go, just calm down. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

On the other side of the room, Nurses are fretting over Ace’s wound. One even goes so far as to scold him, “What were you thinking? You have logia powers! Why would you let yourself get hurt like this?” Even in your sluggish state, your ears perk at the interrogation. You wanted to know this, too.

Ace looked almost offended by the question. “What do you mean “why”? If I’d let that go through me, it would have gone through them instead. Better my hand, than their guts.”

His answer did nothing but spawn more questions. What did he mean by that? Why would it be better for him to get hurt than for you to die? Your life was of no real significance to him. All that you were was a bargaining chip, and you didn’t even need to be alive for that. They just had to make the Marines believe that you were.

None of this makes sense. What is wrong with these people? You’re an enemy. Your death should be celebrated, not prevented. You don’t get it, and your mind growing more and more foggy by the second isn’t helping.

Your eyes are so heavy. Sleep… Sleep sounds good. Just for a little bit. You’ll figure this out after. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.

[sangwookisser]

P୨୧RNSTAR | RAFE CAMERON

cw: somno, ab riding, brief recording, riding, smut, unprotected sex, sloppy sex, soft! rafe, established relationship, smut, MDNI

synopsis: trying new thing with rafe and making a sex tape out of it

a/n: someone sent me an ask about this, i originally had it but this is a repost so not linked with this post

The sun streams in through the bedroom window, casting a warm, golden glow over the rumpled sheets and Rafe's chiseled naked form sprawled out on the bed.

You stir, blinking awake and immediately looking over at your boyfriend, who's lying on his back, a muscular arm draped over his face to block the morning light. His chest is on full display, defined ridges rippling ever so slightly with each slow, lazy breath he intakes as he sleeps.

Feeling a sudden urge, you sit up slowly, the soft cotton of Rafe's t-shirt on you slipping off one of your shoulders, which is the only thing you have on. Silently, you swing a leg over Rafe's waist, straddling him as you settle your thighs on either side of his broad torso. You tug the top of your shirt up and push it off your lower half, exposing most of your ass and the plush globes of your pussy.

Gently, you place your delicate hands on his torso, tracing the sharp lines and defined edges of his muscles with your fingertips. Though you love Rafe's dedication to his physique and his athleticism, you do take a minute to focus on the little cuter things that make him him, like the birthmark on his neck, or the little freckles spanning along his collarbone.

As you continue your explorations, your hips begin to sway and rut slowly on him, grinding your bare pussy against the firm surface of his abs. The light friction sends pleasant sparks through your body, and you find yourself moving with more intent, rolling and circling your hips lazily above him. Your juices begin to coat his abs as you grind down against his chiseled physique, leaving sticky trails of arousal on his skin.

Rafe's breathing remains steady and even, his eyes still closed as he sleeps on, blissfully unaware of your sensual movements. You take advantage of his slumbering state, continuing to grind and undulate above him, lost in your own little world of pleasure and desire.

With each slow, sensual roll of your hips, you feel your pussy growing warmer and wetter, your arousal building as you use Rafe's abs for your own pleasure, a soft whine leaving your lips. Perhaps he'll wake up and punish you for using him like this, even if you're getting him back for waking you up a couple days ago with his head between your legs.

Rafe stirs from his slumber as you continue your grinding, his eyes fluttering open to take in the sight above him. As he focuses on you, his sleepy gaze turns hungry, drinking in every detail of you. One hand comes down to rest on your hip, his long, thick fingers splaying across your skin while the other hand snakes behind you to squeeze the supple flesh of your ass.

"Mmmh... fuck, baby. Keep doing that," Rafe rasps, his voice gravelly from sleep. He squeezes your ass harder as you continue moaning above him, his half-hard cock starting to stir and thicken between your thighs. "Look so fuckin' cute, grinding on me like a lil' slut."

You blush at his crude words, but don't let it stop your movements. Instead, spurred on by the awe and want in his eyes, you begin to move more enthusiastically above him. Your hips rock and circle, feeling the bumps and ridges of his torso brushing over your clit deliciously while rubbing over your soft folds. 

Rafe licks his lips as he watches you, his cock now fully erect and throbbing against your inner thigh. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand beside the bed, tapping the screen a few times before pointing the camera at you. "Come on, baby, give me a good shot," Rafe encourages, panning the camera up and down your body. "You’re doing this for me, hm? Gonna replay this over and over... watching you grind on me, you look like you own me."

Rafe groans, zooming in closer to get a better shot of your glistening pussy lips kissing his abs. "Mhm… fuck…" He pans the camera back up to capture your flushed face, an expression of aroused concentration etched into your delicate features as you lose yourself in the pleasure of grinding on him. Your full lips part slightly as you pant softly from your exertions.

You moan, head tilting back a little as he takes one hand off his phone to reach down and give your ass a little slap, before using the hand that’s not holding his phone to guide your hips to rock you harder on him. "Shit… Doin' so good for me. Lemme see you get sloppier."

Rafe's cock throbs and pulses against your thigh, leaking precum that smears across your soft skin. Each time your ass brushes up against his cock, he groans softly. "Ra-rafe, need a bit more please," You cry out, back arched. He already knows how to help you. Lifting off your top, he tosses it to the ground and plays with your pretty breasts, nipples already swollen for him.

Rafe grunts and lets his grip tighten on your hips as he starts to grind up against you, meeting your downward thrusts with his own rolling hips. "Gonna fuckin' ruin you…"

Your heart pounds in your chest, eyes fluttering shut and body tensing as you feel that familiar pit form in your tummy. Your whole body tenses as your climax builds, your pussy clenching and fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled. With a strangled cry, you come undone, your pussy spasming and gushing as a massive orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave.

"Ahn, Rafe!" you cry out, hips jerking and twitching as you ride out your release. Your arousal gushes out of you, coating Rafe's abs as he just lets out a low, fascinated curse, turning the phone to catch your face as you come, your expression contorted in bliss. "That's it, baby… fuckin' gorgeous…" he praises.

He sets his phone down so he can focus on you now, making sure the video's safe in his phone for later.

He sighs lowly, watching how you're all shaky like a little fawn after your orgasm. "Come here, pretty girl," he murmurs, voice thick with want, reaching out and guiding you forward by your waist. "C'mere, lemme help you," He shifts slightly beneath you, dragging the heavy weight of his cock along your inner thigh. It’s flushed and leaking a lot more steadily now and twitching eagerly against your skin. "Wanna feel you wrapped around me now. No more playtime."

You let him help you up, dizzy and weak from your climax, and his other hand comes up to steady your waist as you lift your hips. He lines himself up with you, groaning at how slick and puffy your folds are as they nudge his fat mushroom tip, sloppily sucking him every time he slides some of himself inside.

He groans again, louder now, when your hips start to sink, the tip of his cock breaching your tight pussy. "That's it… slow, baby, I wanna feel all of it. You feel so fuckin' good already...shit." His head drops back for a second, a raw sound tearing from his throat as your slick lips stretch around him nice and slow.

You brace your hands on his chest as you sink down further, the stretch of his fat cock filling you the more he pushes inside you, filling your tummy. "That's it, baby. Nice and slow… fuck, look at how tight you are around me," he breathes, voice full of awe as you finally bottom out, his cock buried to the hilt inside your soaked pussy.

His jaw is clenched hard, the muscles in his thighs twitching from the restraint it's taking to not flip you over and fuck you stupid, because he wants you to have your moment. "You takin' all of me, pretty baby? Yeah, you are. Just like that."

You sit still for a second, trying to adjust to his cock filling you to the hilt and nudging your womb, your fingers digging into the ridges of his abs, still sticky with your slick. Then he starts guiding your hips, slow at first, rocking you on his cock, your soaked pussy making obscene, wet sounds every time you slide up and back down. Your moans pick up again, higher and breathier.

Rafe's hips thrust up suddenly, deep and sharp, and your whole body jolts with pleasure. You cry out, nails scraping down his chest as your walls clench around him. "Rafe! oh my gosh...feels so good, you feel so good!" Your eyes roll back as he pounds into that spot inside you that makes your legs shake.

You're making a mess all over him, leaking and oversensitive from your recent orgasm and dripping down his balls. Your hands scramble at his chest for leverage, trying to ride him through the overstimulation, but Rafe sees how close you are, how spent your body is. "You're gonna give me one more," he whispers, lacing his hands through yours to guide you. "C'mon, I wanna feel you soak me. You can do it."

Your breathing is more rapid and unsteady now as you ride him harder, hips rolling with more desperation, the obscene sound of your slick echoing between your bodies with every wet slide of his cock deep inside you.

You're a mess above him but Rafe can’t stop looking at you like you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. You're moaning louder and so desperate, your body tightening again as that pressure in your belly coils hot and heavy. You're so close it hurts, chasing that edge while Rafe just keeps guiding you through it.

Your second orgasm hits like a slap to the spine, entire body locking up as you cum around him. Your pussy clamps down so tight he loses it right then, moaning shamelessly loud as his orgasm hits right after yours. Rafe slams into you one last time and spills deep, hips stuttering and cock throbbing inside you as he fills you to the brim, dumping thick and heavy load after load inside you.

His arms wrap around you tight, locking you against him while his body jerks with every wave of his release. When it’s over, he lets out a long, shaky breath and drags you down so you're chest to chest, pressing quick, soft little kisses to your temple and keeping you snug against him as his hands roam lazily over your back, then around to your front, palming your tits with fascination. You smile lazily, already tired again despite a long night's rest, but happy to be with Rafe.